Ignition Broker: Chapter 43 A Proper Dialog

Chapter 43

A Proper Dialog

“Dialog, the ability to convey your thoughts to someone else, regardless of their ethnicity, biases, or languages being spoken. Realize that 80% of all communication is peripherals, the tone, inflection of your voice, and posture. The actual words being spoken only account for the remaining 20%.” -Marcon on the art of a dialog

To their credit they came out with a plan and stuck to it. To their deficit they chose the wrong plan.

Like sprinting ghosts they charged forward, a clear pattern to their movements, but seeing as they weren’t overtly hostile Arla waited. Then to her delight and surprise, she saw it, Cerusian combat magic being cast by true practitioners of the craft, and not just a self-taught hedge wizard who had to piece together the old texts and ways from the ancient training text she had received when she was eight, along with various other texts that she and Marcon had managed to find as part of their many scavenger hunts and expeditions.

For her first time seeing the words being used by a clear practitioner, one who had no doubt  been trained by a practitioner who knew the old ways, and ways to improve caused a moment of hesitation. This would be the equivalent of a person who worked out in their backyard going against a team of three trained soldiers from another nation. One would assume that the soldiers from the other nation would be better trained, better coordinated, and above all more dangerous.

Of the three noted criteria, the only one that Arla felt she could honestly give the trio was that they were in fact coordinated in their efforts.

Fire, heat, Ignite.

The Cerusian words of combat magic being spoken out loud caused something to awaken within Arla’s soul. For a moment it was almost as if she was feeling a deep connection to a part of her that had always existed.

Wind, gust, strike.

Of course, there was just one problem with what she was hearing and seeing before her.

Lightning, beam, pillar.

Namely, the issue that Arla saw with the ancient Cerusian magics being cast against her was that they were slow. No, not just slow, but almost as if they were done in a way to prove she was a Cerusian herself. Almost like an initiation to an ancient fraternity of magic users, they came at her in a slow, seemingly deliberate cadence. As if they were only moving at half pace of what Arla thought should be a true combat speed.

Realizing that these speeds would mean nothing in actual combat, Arla finally understood the purpose for this challenge. Clearly there was an objective, and as none of the spells being cast at her would be lethal, they would hurt yes, but her space suit would easily be able to protect her from the level of dangers she was seeing. At most a few of her suit’s seals might be broken, or if the gusts got particularly fast, a sign that she wasn’t acting quickly enough, then her suit could face serious damages.

At these thoughts, Arla realized that there were likely one of two possible conclusions. First, these Cerusian war chanters were exceptionally weak. That or this was a test to see if she had what it took to truly wield the craft. After all, she had clearly read the Cerusian text that told her of the exchange ratio for fixed parts. That was why she was here now, without triggering the corruption traps that were placed throughout the area. This was when Arla realized that this had to be a test.

Seeing their initial actions as a test, Arla reacted in kind. For every force, there was an equal and opposite force. Logic would dictate that Arla would use water to counteract the fire, earth to counteract the air, and finally lightning to counteract lightning. That is, if Arla could only match their powers, but Arla felt invigorated by the open challenge. The brazenness of such a test. Seeing this as her chance to finally prove herself, Arla found herself smiling before casting her answering spell.

The one thing Arla learned from Marcon was that skill, power, and precision were often more important than having the perfect counter. If you met an enemy with overwhelming force, then it didn’t matter if your plan of action was less refined or less perfect, as the kinetic movement of force would be enough to overcome most remaining obstacles.

Focusing her mind, Arla called forth the energies of the universe around her. Powers that she had never gotten to share or experience with anyone other than Marcon.

Just thinking about those times when she would spend all afternoon practicing her power and strikes, proudly calling out Marcon to stand and watch her. He would, standing there in his typical arms crossed, not excited attitude, and watch her cast new spell after spell. Then when Arla finally had to stop, she would turn and watch Marcon expectantly, panting.

“That all?” Marcon asked.

Those two words were shattering, causing her to try harder and harder until the time of her actual trial. Then once she failed, Marcon would never watch her forms.

“You aren’t a Cerusian, get over it, and don’t practice where people can see you.”

Those were Marcon’s final words on her magic. Not to stop, not to not keep improving, but to do so where no one could see her. That’s what she did, she would practice in secret.

In her mind, she knew her response if Marcon caught her practicing while conducting a survival exercise on an uninhabited planet. Her response would be, “you always need to have many tools in your bag, if you are going to make it in the universe. Having a blunted or dulled weapon is just asking for death.”

Yet, Marcon never asked. Either he never saw her practicing, a near impossibility with how violent she managed to get a few of her more powerful attack spells at the end. Or he was okay with her practicing in secret. Arla liked to think that it was this last part that Marcon secretly accepted her. This option made Arla feel alive even now as she knew it meant that Marcon accepted her for who she was.

Focusing her mind, she was back to the long forgotten battlefield planets. Planets that had signs of Cerusians fighting and dying side by side with Imperial forces. These were the planets that Arla saw and learned the most about her craft. While she never had a formal trainer, she could see the signs of battle performed by the most powerful of Cerusians.

Arla saw scorch marks that went for miles, as mixtures of gusts of wind were used to fuel and propel giant bursts of flames outward. She saw great fissures that were torn in the ground, where magma and earth collided to release jets of heat that melted the feet of enemy warriors that had the misfortune of standing on top of the pillars.

While Arla always felt that her powers were lacking compared to the desperate attacks she witnessed, she did feel that she had come close. Far closer than these three trial casters were, as these attacks would be nothing, if not done in concert with each other.

That’s when Arla reached deep down into her well of power, where she easily called upon the forces of the world. Not just calling the energies, but doing so faster, with more precision, and most importantly more power, the three components that Marcon always stressed for her to wield.

Freezing ice shard.

Instantly gusts of freezing rain first appeared, then began to freeze into tight floating diamonds of ice. Ice that were then directed with precision control to float horizontally along the ground, their paths and trajectories taking them to intercept the three spells that had been manifesting before her.

Her explosion of ice shards cut through the burst of fire that had been forming before her, the ice being able to withstand the minor increase of temperature that had been manifesting around the first caster. Similarly the shards cut through the gust of winds that threatened to tear into the seals on her spacesuit, causing her to be vulnerable to the alien atmosphere, and ultimately increase her chances of getting serious infections or worse. With their speed and resilience, the shards easily stood up to the gentle gusts of winds. Winds that required speed and distance to truly gain power and precision to their strikes. By forcing the attack away from her, meeting her attackers head on, she took away their spell’s greatest power, that of applied force.

Same with the lightning, being made up of frozen ice, the innate particles of the ice shards pierced through, and diverted the bolts of lightning down and around each shard. Causing the spell to break apart as its power was quickly drained from its core form. In each case, Arla’s shards flew forward, jagged edges facing out towards the casters who all looked nervous, as her spell was being held stationary by her will alone. This was another facet of her powers that she focused on.  Fortunately, Ice was one of the easiest powers to perform this feat of precision with. Flames and lightning both expanded and contracted wildly, while sharpened chunks of earth would be too heavy to hold in such a state. Worse, earth would require four times more energy to propel forward to be effective in stopping anyone. This was why Arla liked ice. Also, ice was great for when you were stranded on a desert planet that didn’t have raw access to water.

Thus, Arla proved one of two things. Either she was a strong enough candidate to pass whatever test this was. Or she proved that getting into a match of powers with her would be disadvantageous.

There was an awkward pause, as everyone just stared at each other. Arla had the benefit of not only having an immediate threat of spells ready to pierce her would be Cerusian attackers, but she also had her weapon.

For the moment everything was going as Arla had planned. She was clearly in command of this situation and would be able to control the way things would progress from here. Of course, this was when things went sideways in a hurry, as there was one factor that Arla’s mind had not accounted for. A factor that now posed a variable that she was not ready to action against.

“Um, Commander, what is happening?” The questioning voice of Rayalta called out, apparently able to communicate over the local channels, all but proving that one of these Cerusians, likely the lightning user was responsible for disabling the communications channels.

It was that cut off effect, that let Arla come out of her shell, and caused her to actually expose herself. Mentally she knew that this changed little with her overall plans as after this she would leave it all behind. Yet, Rayalta finding out right now would force her to move at a rate of speed she was not quite ready for.  Worse, she knew once she started down that particular path, she would need to do everything in a hurry, and as close to perfectly as possible.

“We are meeting the locals,” Arla declared, as she mentally let go of the three clusters of ice shards that had been pointing at the necks and bodies of her would be attackers.

“Okay, and why is your hair glowing blue?” Rayalta asked, her form coming close enough to see Arla. At that comment Arla found herself looking to the side, and noticed that somehow her black dye had been melted away, leaving her natural blue hair behind to shine and glow in the light. Not only was her hair now glowing, but it also took on a floating effect to it, something that was often associated with the strongest of Cerussian casters.

The one and only reason why Arla didn’t begin opening fire on everyone, Rayalta included, was the fact that even now, Rayalta had the decency to make sure her weapon was pointed in a way that let her have all three Cerusian casters in her sight. Seeing that there was no hesitation in her squad member, just open curiosity showing its head, that’s when Arla just smiled, realizing that the cat was already out of the bag, so she just went with it.

“Because, we are part of the Blue Devil Squad, and I am the Blue Devil Squad commander.”

Rayalta just nodded at that, as if that was enough of an excuse needed. For a moment, Arla wondered if that was it? Was it now over? Did she not have to hide her true identity anymore? Before Arla could get too deep in her thoughts, Rayalta asked the most important question that needed an immediate answer.

“So what do we do with the three morons?”

“Three morons?” Arla asked, wondering why that title of any was used for these three.

“Yeah, anyone dumb enough to attack you from the open has to be a moron.”

Chuckle.

With that Arla actually felt herself laugh at the absurdity of the statement and situation she now found herself in.

“Well, we should probably ask them what they think should happen.” Then as if a switch had been flicked, the smile that had appeared on Arla’s face was gone, replaced by an intense focus, one that caused her hair to rise even higher within the confines of her helmet.

Turning to the trio, she switched to Cerusian and began talking, “well…”