Aetheral Space

Dragan gulped as he watched Atoy Muzazi step off his sword and into the casino, the weapon flying back into his hand a moment later.

"I believed you to be dead for a short while there, Hadrien," Muzazi said as he stepped forwards, each footfall accompanied by the quiet cracking of glass. "I'm glad that's not the case. You are my burden to bear."

Dragan fumbled around him with his good hand, managed to pull out the stun pistol that had fallen from his jacket. He'd brought it along for protection, but compared to Atoy Muzazi’s obvious abilities it seemed more and more inadequate by the second.

Muzazi came to a halt a few meters away, staring at the pistol in Dragan's hand. "You want to fight me, Hadrien?" he said softly. "I think you'll find that difficult. My back isn't turned this time, and I haven't made the mistake of trusting you."

He was absolutely right - Dragan knew that better than anyone. Muzazi could charge forward and sever his head from his body in the same amount of time it would take Dragan to pull the trigger once.

All in all, the weapon in Dragan's hand was little more than a placebo - and not a very effective one at that.

Again, Dragan heard the sound of tinkling glass, but this time it was Bruno stepping forward instead of Muzazi. The other boy couldn't have been in a much better state than Dragan - they'd both fallen from the same height, after all, and Bruno had taken the brunt of the impact. Still, though, he stood in front of Dragan as if shielding him, purple Aether crackling around his hands.

Muzazi raised an eyebrow. "Your resolve is admirable, del Sed, but misplaced. This person is one who will betray you once it becomes convenient."

Bruno didn't say anything, just raised his hands up. Small fist-sized forcefields manifested over his palms, as if he were holding a small shield in each hand.

"You are an ally of my enemy," Muzazi went on, grip tightening just slightly on his sword's hilt. "But I have no quarrel with you yourself. Leave this place, and I will forget you. You have my word as a Special Officer of the Supremacy."

At the last word, Bruno's eyes narrowed, and the crackling of his Aether intensified just slightly. Clearly, he was no fan of Muzazi's government.

"What say you?" Even as Muzazi asked, he seemed aware what answer he would get. The cold intent to kill was still written all over his face.

"Bruno…" Dragan croaked. He wasn't really sure what he was going to say. Help? Don't? At any rate, he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

Bruno rushed forward, thrusting both his hands in an attempt to charge Muzazi. At the same time, Muzazi leapt upwards with a burst of twin thrusters from the soles of his feet, flying right out of Bruno's vision. The swordsman turned over in the air as he passed over Bruno's head - and, as he did, he slashed at his opponents unguarded neck.

This time, Dragan didn't say anything. He just squeezed one eye shut, aimed his stun pistol at Muzazi as quickly as he could, and fired off an Aether-infused bolt.

As Dragan had hoped, Muzazi could see the attack coming with ease from this angle. With only the slightest grunt of exertion, the swordsman abandoned his attack and slashed the stun-bolt out of the air with his sword before finally dropping back to the floor behind Bruno.

And in front of Dragan.

Before Bruno could turn back around, Muzazi rushed towards Dragan, sword pulled back in preparation for the killing thrust. Remnants of the stun-bolt still flickered across the blade, illuminating Muzazi's face in an eerie blue light as he approached.

Dragan did his best to stop the shaking of his hand and fired off another stun-bolt towards Muzazi. Unfortunately, this was as telegraphed as telegraphed could be, and Muzazi simply ducked to avoid the projectile that sailed over his head.

I'm dead.

It occurred to Dragan that this certainty had become a frequent presence in his headspace. That couldn't be a good sign. Maybe he should make some lifestyle changes.

Well, it seemed that Muzazi was going to make those changes for him right now, whether he wanted it or not. Muzazi thrust his sword forwards. Dragan squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the end.

It didn't come.

There was a peculiar clashing sound, like two pieces of metal striking each other - and then a strained grunt from Muzazi. Cautiously, expecting he'd be killed the moment he did, Dragan opened his eyes.

Muzazi's sword was frozen mid-thrust, inches from Dragan's face, and the swordsman himself was tugging on the weapon's hilt, as if trying to free it from some invisible grip. At first, Dragan didn't quite understand what he was seeing - and then he saw the rippling of the air around the sword, and everything fell into place.

The damn thing was caught inside one of Bruno's forcefields, stuck there like a rat in a trap.

Muzazi turned his head as Bruno, the man of the hour, charged towards him, hand-based forcefields raised over his head, ready to bring them down like a pair of invisible hammers. The swordsman's hand slipped free of the sword, leaving the weapon hovering there in empty space. And then …

And then Bruno went staggering backwards, one hand to his throat and the other nursing his stomach.

Dragan blinked in disbelief. He was sure he'd seen something, some blurred movement of Muzazi, but it simply wasn't possible for someone to retaliate that quickly. The human body simply wasn't capable of it. And yet … and yet Muzazi had struck out twice with his fists in the same time it would take Dragan to blink.

Abandoning his pursuit of Dragan for the moment, Muzazi turned and began strolling casually towards the retreating Bruno. That retreat was an instinctual thing, not an actual attempt to abandon Dragan, but Muzazi seemed unimpressed all the same.

"You thought I'd be weak without my sword?" Muzazi mused. "That's unfortunate if so. A true warrior uses his entire body as a weapon."

As he spoke, Muzazi lashed out again and again - his fists winding like snakes to bypass any shields that Bruno put up, finding their mark in soft flesh almost every time. If anything, it seemed like Muzazi was faster without that sword of his, split-second thrusters appearing on his elbows to accelerate his strikes.

It wasn't as if Bruno was helpless, though. Whatever kind of training he'd had, it clearly covered some kind of martial arts - elbows and knees moving to impede the path of punches as much as possible. Bruno struck out with the occasional jab of his fingers, too, forcing Muzazi to abandon his assault for precious seconds to defend himself.

It was almost as if the two of them were dancing, a beautiful exchange of blows, the sheer dignity of which almost looked choreographed. Even though he'd grown up in the Supremacy, Dragan had never really been inclined to indulge the combat fetish that seemed to dominate the culture there - but here, watching this, he could understand it perfectly.

Even with Bruno's considerable efforts, however, there was a sheer disparity in ability that could not be overcome. One final strike from Muzazi wound through the gaps in Bruno's defense and struck him deep in the stomach. A second later, Bruno was on the ground just like Dragan, groaning softly.

"I can't blame you for your misinterpretation," Muzazi said, standing above Bruno, blocking out the light from the broken window like a silhouette from hell. "Judging by your present state, you are woefully lacking without those shields of yours. At this moment, I am superior to you, and I do not expect this to change. Please consider this a learning experience."

And with that last genuine piece of 'advice', Muzazi kicked Bruno with all his strength, sending him sliding over the smooth floor and slamming him into the far wall. As Bruno lay still, the purple Aether that had protected him dissipated.

Dragan stared at Bruno's limp form, mouth hanging open. He'd known Muzazi was strong, but … but he'd just dismantled Bruno as if he were nothing. Dragan stood absolutely no chance.

As Bruno's Aether dissipated, the sword that had been suspended in the air fell down limply - and with a burst of white light, it returned to Muzazi's waiting hand. Taking his time, he ran his eyes along the blade for any signs of damage, before nodding in apparent satisfaction. His eyes flicked towards Dragan.

"I think you should know that your other comrades are far away from here, and still moving further," he said, pointing his sword towards Dragan. "They will not be interfering with us. If you had agreed to a fair match from the beginning, I would have allowed you to procure a weapon of your choice - but you have proven you cannot be trusted with such lenience. Pick up that gun of yours, and then we shall decide whose decisions were correct."

Plan plan plan. Come up with a plan. Or at least say something, delay him as much as possible.

Still on the ground, Dragan opened his mouth. "What if I don't pick up the gun?"

It wasn't much, but it was all his brain could come up with in this kind of situation.

Muzazi's eyes narrowed. "Then you'll die empty-handed."

Dragan looked up at Muzazi, at his merciless eyes, before slowly reaching for his stun pistol. He moved at a speed just slow enough to give him time to think, but not so slow that Muzazi could spot the ploy.

Could he escape? Maybe, but it would be nearly impossible. Even if he somehow managed to get out of Muzazi's immediate range, he had basically no idea where he was - any escape route would have to be improvised.

Could he fight? Absolutely not. Not even worth considering the question.

Could he … was there anything else he could do? No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't see any options beyond fight or flight.

His fingers brushed against the pistol's handle, slowly curling around it to grip as tightly as his body would allow.

"Now," said Muzazi calmly, taking a step back and lowering his body - entering a stance where he could release a devastating slash at a moment's notice. "Stand up. Prepare yourself."

Slowly, this time from terror - and the shaking of his legs - rather than planning, Dragan rose to his feet. An unearthly calm settled over his heart - he was about to die. There was no longer any question about it. No action he took would prevent this.

Anxiety came from fear of making the wrong choices. When you realized that all possible choices were wrong, fear faded and left a hollow blank.

Limply, he raised the pistol to point in the direction of Muzazi's head. He wouldn't hit his mark, he knew that and Muzazi knew that, but he felt as if he had to make some token effort.

Muzazi twitched, just slightly, and Dragan accepted death.

"You hurt Bruno?" said a high-pitched voice from behind Atoy Muzazi.

Brow suddenly furrowing, Muzazi whirled around - and both he and Dragan were sent flying away by a sudden burst of air pressure and smashing debris, splinters of wood and steel raining down across the casino floor.

As Dragan rolled to a halt several meters away, he looked up to the source of that … that explosion - his eyes widening as they recognized what was before them.

Serena del Sed stood there, where Bruno had fallen, massive amounts of violet Aether swirling and striking around her like a miniature thunderstorm. In one hand, she held the surviving handle of the sword she'd just slashed at Muzazi - the blade had exploded on impact and sent them flying.

The weapon she held in her other hand was far too big to be called a sword.

When Dragan had seen her create that massive stone sword back in the temple on Yoslof, he'd assumed that was her upper limit - something extraordinary for her. That, however, did not seem to be the case. The sword she held was easily several times her size, formed from crushed wood and plastic - the remnants of one of the big patolli tables that they'd landed next to.

Serena didn't seem in the best shape, either - she still bore the wounds that Bruno had suffered, of course, but it seemed almost as if the Aether coursing through her body was harming her as well. With every bright violet spark, her body shuddered violently, and her eyes stared ahead blankly. It was as if she were sleepwalking.

Muzazi hadn't been sent flying as far as Dragan - he'd managed to partially block the blow with his own sword, so he'd remained in a standing position as he slid across the floor, glaring ahead at his new enemy.

He glanced back at Dragan, whose back was against the wall, but clearly decided that the greatest threat right now was Serena.

"I was under the impression I'd defeated you," Muzazi said cautiously, turning back to face Serena. "Your Aether has changed - and you clearly have no shortage of it now. Explain yourself, del Sed."

Serena's teeth were bared in a bestial scowl, her eyes still looking up at the ceiling rather than Muzazi. As Dragan watched, a thin line of blood trickled from her nose and dropped onto the floor. Even the blood sparkled with violet Aether.

When the words left her mouth, they were like the cracking of an iceberg. "You hurt Bruno," she rasped, hand holding the sword squeezing with such strength that splinters of wood went flying off the hilt. The sound was like that of a cannonball firing.

Muzazi narrowed his eyes, moved back into a defensive stance. Clearly, he didn't quite understand what he was dealing with here.

"Bruno?" he said. "I'm not familiar with that person."

Finally, Serena's eyes snapped to behold Muzazi - and those pupils were dilated to dots of utter fury.

"You hurt Bruno," she roared - and she swung her sword.

To call the resultant movement a 'blow' would be to downplay it beyond belief. It was a force of nature, like a hurricane made miniature, the sheer air pressure created by the slash sending slot machines flying this way and that, smashing into walls and narrowly avoiding smashing Dragan.

That was without even mentioning the actual object being swung, of course. Dragan had no doubt that, if that sword were to touch him at that kind of speed, he'd be reduced to mincemeat in a second. Hell, even Muzazi would probably be severely injured - and, as if to prove that hypothesis, the swordsman leapt above the blow with thrusters from his feet and sought shelter among the rafters high above, standing among them as if they were a forest.

Serena growled as Muzazi exited her significantly large range - and she reached out with her free hand, grabbing hold of the railing that encircled the entire section she was standing on. With awful sounds of warping and screeching metal, the railing pulled itself free of the floor and collected itself into a long, sharp blade in Serena's hand, violet Aether forcing it into a stable shape.

Unlike the previous weapon, which had been like a massive greatsword, this was more like a silver rapier designed for stabbing and impaling. It was still massive though - absurdly so.

Serena struck out with a series of savage stabs up towards the rafters, sending chunks of the ceiling raining down as Muzazi dodged and dodged like a monkey fleeing through the jungle, swinging from wooden beam to wooden beam. As he watched the inevitable process of the casino's demolition, it occurred to Dragan that this was probably a good time to run.

This was the perfect opportunity, after all - avoiding those lethal blows meant that Muzazi had no spare attention to waste on him. Hell, he could probably walk out and the idiot wouldn't even notice.

But … it felt wrong. Bruno had gotten hurt to save him - not that'd he'd been asked to - and now Serena was getting hurt doing the same thing. Well, she seemed to be almost killing him in the process, but it was the thought that counted.

Muzazi was strong. Dragan knew that. Even in this situation, there was every chance that the Special Officer could turn things around and land a killing blow. Besides, he didn't know how long Serena could perform on this level. Judging from her body language and obvious physical distress, this didn't seem to be a usual thing for her.

If he left them here, Bruno and Serena, and later found out that they'd … that the worst had happened, what would he do? What would he say to Skipper and Ruth?

The smart thing to do was walk away.

Dragan tapped the button to recharge his stun pistol, staggered to his feet, and let his bright-blue Aether flare around him. As he adopted an expression of resolve he didn't quite feel, he did his best to stop his legs from shaking.

Just this once, to hell with the smart thing to do. He'd always wondered what it was like to be an idiot.