Her footsteps were silent.

The jungle is loud with fever. Thumping to a rhythm that could only be perceived as unnatural. She took an inhale, but it too was mystical, it came through the jungle. The oaks of her eyes reflected life and its purity. A vibrant soul that danced through the very essence of this place. Her companions were here - in this decrepit feudal jungle. It was crisp with dew from last night’s rain and the sky, while pure aquarian in form. It was filled with bulging white congregations of raw daint. They wept heavily last night. Now, they shined brightly - conduiting the free sun’s rays. A sight that, if it had not been for so many powerful Ryuusei in one place, all within a mile radius. It was something that would never happen. Never gift those eyes with such a rich empyrean.

Wholly natural, the world’s heartbeat - all of them knew it well.

She just knew it the best.

Senko was five foot eight - even. Her figure was blemish free, no scars. Curved and yet, accented beautifully with athleticism. Her eyes were a vibrant chestnut. Occasionally, flickers of pink flame - nearly translucent opal lightning and waves of honeyed green danced across her irises. She was dressed…. casually. A pair of jean shorts cupped at mid-thigh, high top black and white converse and a black tank top that revealed a matching sports bra underneath. Her right arm and left leg interconnected an eastern dragon that was pure ivory.

The armor she wore came in two forms. Firstly, were her gauntlets. They were obvious, contrasting drastically to her apparel. Crimson in color, fashioned from segmented plates of meta-dense what appeared to be carapace. They were clawed and wielded the kettle with an unnatural grace, the steaming liquid flowing into the floral light. The cup was porcelain with soft, blue leaves dancing at its edges. They possessed the mightiest of blessings from the goddess Amaterasu. The sun’s mystical energy danced through their every sinew. This extended to her, arming its host with a powerful resistance to heat and its magykal variants. Simultaneously, pulsing this force into polymerization with her Chi. It extended the branch of ‘burning’ her life force did.

Their metal hummed with a near-divine durability, yet was light in the hands of the one chosen, carrying a weight fit for a mountain otherwise. Her strikes, especially her punches, became some of the worst instances of kinetic energy to be on the receiving end within her little sector.

The second armor was a translucent field. Dipped in Ether, synthesized through both her soul and the vitality drumming through her veins. Though thin in appearance, three inches from her flesh, it was stalwart. Multi- hexagonal and at several dynami points alight. Currently, it was inactive at its offensive constellations. Not even the wind pierced the uncanny array, nor did temperature. Everything was perfectly regulated within its bosom. The outside world acts as a filtered, unlimited resource. This field of hers, when active, was capable of defending against kinetic, Ethereal and magykal energies. It was innately designed to fend off even the most intimate of threats from the depths of a wizard's mind to the uncontrollable psychic storm within the mutants and monsters she's came across. Projected from her heart beat. It was primarily made up of Chi disguised as electrons and protons formulated perfectly in a meta-charged array.

The Ryuusei were natural-born martial artists, so it should have been no surprise she carried none on her person. Her ancestors, her lineage were her weapons. Shrouding every aspect of her person to her offensive cycles to the defensive ones. Their reinforcement came in the form of passive encouragement, gateguards to her already paramount will. If she was a rose, then they were the thorns. If she was a mighty tortoise, then they were each individual dense shell cells on her back. This blessing descended upon all of her blood, but her connection was the most potent. As the current head of her clan, they took the knee to her sovereign. Dictating a march that ran through the veins of life itself. One that she knew like her favorite song. They cheered her name consistently. Her mother, grandmother and grandmother's voices rang through her soul. Her powers eclipsed with theirs and evolved several times over. Refining the human spirit to something that was impassable, unbreakable and beyond anything the God's had foretold in their murals back in shiroki cave.

Though, in this particular fiction. Senko was a version of herself that was far more intune with the Ryuzhang and basic Chi control. She retained her blessings from Wukong; which refined her durability, agility and enchanted her hair too, to be magyk like her peer. Amaterasu sat within her chant comfortably, instructing - forever teaching as Senko journeyed through this multiversal battleground. She imbued Senko, innately, with many moderate traits that aided both the natural temperature of her Chi and her abilities with it. It also gave her further flat defense against both the arcane and aetheral spectrum of energies. From Longmu, Senko was granted a draconic granted her movements unrivaled fluidity. Which further stacked atop of her already heightened agility. Raijin forged her strength anew and made her hits resemble ferocious storms. And her family’s presence, her company’s presence simply made it impossible to be anything but powerful. It was a pride thing.

She could feel all of them.

But mainly, she could sense Akane and Shin. Their energies flourished wildly, battered against the dam of containment itself. Their scent in her wind. It gave her the utmost joy to be alongside her kin.

The abandoned feudal surrounding of temples was in a loose hexagonal shape. The edges, small - sandy breaches that drop off into a turbulent eternal of waves. There were three paths, roads into highways and in the middle ly a bridge. Those who accompanied her on the mission today were Shin, Totsu, Akane and Yuske.

Totsu and Akane were far east, in the deepest part of the island’s damp jungle. And yet, furthest from the sun - it was the coldest. Always wet. Always cold. There was a twenty feet pond at its center, Senko could sense them somewhere around there. Shin was just fifty feet in front of her. And they were in the centermost path. Where he cooked stew diligently. She could smell it. The small stream’s crystalline water enriched the aroma. Totsu was somewhere in these old buildings or perhaps, somewhere in the surrounding wilderness. He was tricky like that. While Yuske was west, his energy was unmistakable.

They were in positions.

“Don’t get too bored. Mynx said it would only be a few hours…” She com’d through their earpieces.

Darkness consumed the pathway he sat in, the humid hallways damp with the drip of water from flora that threatened to consume the building. This much he could tell, it wasn't hard for the master of deception to play his innate role. Masking himself, feeling the way the element around him ebbed and flowed - genuflecting to bless him as he masked himself entirely. Swallowed seemingly under shadow and the ambiance, enough to make even the best scouts have the hardest locating him. He hardly came to think that his partners could properly tell his exact location. He was somewhere near Akane, which was enough for them, though he was only a few meters to her right.

Totsuka was an enigmatic man, estranged from the entirety of the forefront of this world's understanding. This wasn't to say that anything he had couldn't be understood; it was hard to predict what the male could do because he was purely instinctual. He sat perfectly still within his perch, hidden within flora and stone walls. Fox-like gaze kept a unique level of watch for opportunity and chance. He was the most exploitative person on the battlefield, which would play into how he played his little lane.

The man wore simple black harem pants, bandages under a stylish turtleneck, and knee-length black and purple haori. Totsuka wore black tabi on his feet while bandages lined his features, clearly from his torso upwards and around his mouth. Ivory hair was held into two buns, messily strewn about as if hastily done. At the same time, he rotated stones between his right hand, one that carried the mirrored form of han kote on his forearm and knuckles. Lastly, the thing that could visibly be seen was his katana, which housed the chaos sprite within on his left hip.

He honestly didn't mind being here aside from the humidity and heat. It was an excellent time to be here with companions he hadn't seen in a long time. He was lost in thought of what they would do after this mission, as he had no doubt that their victory over whoever popped up would be swift. That's when he heard Senko speak, offering a playful, "Aye, Aye, Oyabun." Now, he was focused. Entirely so, as he kept his k.i hidden. A problem with his specific race of beings but absolved by their training.

Man, oh man, he was hungry.

She inhaled, and through her exhale did her frosted breath further crystallize the open air around her. Upon the center of a freezing pond Akane Ryuusei danced in meditation. A practice she learned in her journey to adulthood. A tribal dance of war that displayed many different martial arts stances. Eyes shut imprisoning golden irises not needed for their purpose. Her chi muddied her vicinity. By nature did its netheric touch bring disturbance to the natural order in a way that could easily be confused as natural effects. Beauty in the beast. Aether was its foundation through the might of her will. Her ancestors watched out in pride. Akane had come to a point in her journey throughout the cosmos where she truly understood her place. She was the sister to the greatest martial artist within their bloodline since their mother. By birthright was the title for the head of the family given, but that didn’t mean where she stood was any less important.

She listened to them all now.

The Devil Fist. A moniker that was passed down to her from her uncle. The nefarious style that brought fear to the hearts of her kin. Truly did she master its arts. A tranquil fury that brought devastating wraith to her hands. She danced to the beat her people drummed for them. It was rare to find them all in one place these days. Weightlessness was on full display as she slipped her bare sole across freezing waves. Fragile to the touch, a mere pebble could shatter its surface into being submerged.

Shinobi style pants hung tight to her ankles. A feather pendant ankle bracelet glistened in the light. A magical item that hid its true identity. Her torso was covered in pristine wrapped bandages that covered the entirety of her upper half to the neck. A mundane looking rope dart tied around her waist. Safe for the black crystal tip that reflected dying photons. She bore no chest plate. Only dark steel plated gauntlets. A pair of gauntlets fashioned in black metal brimming with an affinity for endurance. Blessed by the titan of strength, Kratos. They held the ability of hyper kinetic repulsion. Causing her strikes to be stacked in explosive layers of kinetic synergy. Running down to the tips of her fingers, and spiked at the knuckles. A simple design that sacrificed aesthetics for might.

Along with its offensive capabilities they held the ability to scatter kinetic impacts across medium vectors. Whilst filling its molecular structure with hyper vibrations that results in atomic “flooding” of the metal hardening it into a supernatural phenomena. An ability to drown out the force of anything from blades, to heavy rifle bullets with relative ease. The tips of her fingers were clawed, with a spike flowing out from the elbows making elbow strikes deadly. By their blessing did they passively enhance her already frightening strength.

Around her neck was that of her uncle’s tainted teardrop black diamond necklace. It was the physical and spiritual manifestation of what it meant to hold the title she now held. Pain. Sacrifice. Acknowledgment. The shadow to the sun’s light. The dark side of the moon. It was her key to the whispers that slid unheard within their chant. Venom that held high prices for those who tested their family product. Her right foot slid across the surface of the waves. Her right arm matched it in what resulted in a final stance before her body carried itself into a bow. Her crimson locks falling down her right shoulder in a perfectly woven single braid. A performance for her ancestors, and a warning to her foes.

She felt the presence of her kin, especially Senko. A beacon for her people. The horn had yet to be blown, and her mission partner was within her shadow. The damp jungle that surrounded the pond housed a plethora of abandoned sheds and outposts. Plus wet trees with mossy waters visually pretending to be grass. It was very much like her sister to say such childish things in a situation like this. It made her smile as her head bowed to her people. Akane would follow her into any battle, and it was crazy how much of an impact her elder sister had on her own personality. Returning her a reply through their connection.


“As long as Shin makes me a plate, this trip is bound to be worth it.”

He could not help it as his excitement flared on a battlefield that none could stand with him on. He disliked it. The knife bestowed upon him by his teacher was used to carefully slice up vegetables to transfer them to a pot that already had the pork belly inside. Placing the lid on top while resting the knife back into the sheath after a proper cleaning. Just an hour. That would be how long it would take for the pork to be soft enough to melt in the mouth. At the heat of the open flame, it would be easy enough, but then he'd have to fix up some rice as well to go as a nice side dish. “I'll worry about sides later,” Shin sighed while standing up and stretching his arms out behind his torso. He could feel tense muscles growing ever so slightly as he stretched in preparation for the scuffle. Despite his reputation as a chef, he was as well known for his cooking skills as his fighting skills.

It was something that he could not help but learn. Bouncing on the balls of his feet with the utmost silence. Those tailor-made tai chi slippers offered amazing grip as the voice of his mother echoed within his cranium. How long has it been since so many of them joined together? The only time he could remember was that joint training exercise that ended in a rather eventful moment. Who could have guessed that a pebble could end someone's life on a flight of stairs? Regardless, it did not matter. He had both his mother and aunt in his corner, but also those two who might as well be distant cousins. The amount of confidence that Shin felt in his bosom made him feel as if he had achieved enlightenment. Maybe that was why he was currently staring forward, in the direction where the supposed invasion was to come from.

His bouncing came to a halt as he cast his gaze down to his waistline, taking in the ten Heavy Bone that resided within holsters—five on his left and five on his right—snug in the belt that held tan martial arts slacks. These kunai were useful and a gift from his uncle—with this being their debut since he was bestowed the items. While returning his gaze forward he shook his arms ever so slightly and caused those silver bracelets to bounce with the motion. The green turtle ran up his right forearm ever so slightly due to the bracelet bounce, whilst the blue turtle barely got any height. But these bracelets, like everything else, were gifts that he could not help but take pride in. His family, no matter how they sliced it, would always be there at his side. Both physically and spiritually. It was only when he heard his aunt did Shin stopped his pre-fight check-in.

“No worries, I got more than enough pork belly for everyone. Just have to make sure no one eats it in the middle of this whole thing.” It would not be too much of a shock. The scent coming from it easily rode the currents of the wind. Already catching Shin in the sweet flavor that had his mouth-watering. Maybe he should have made some buns for this one. He thought to himself, bringing his left hand towards his lips for his index finger to lightly tap his lip. He also hoped that Totsu and Yuske had a taste for Chinese—and not that Americanized crap!

Why… Why do these realms tend to just offer up nothing but disappointment after disappointment? A question that never tended to have a solid answer, the newer gen of warriors tend to just amount to nothing more than experience points for this game we call life. A question that never fails to get pondered on, for a question like this? There was only one place to go, and it wasn’t so much that he wanted to go here, but the “Stars Aligned” and his destiny was already written. Senko had saw something in him, for was it his power or his attitude? Another question that failed to have answer, but what was given was a role to play in not just Vehemente but upon the greater universe. For what his father offered to the Stars is what Senko offered to her family and organization. Order. It was why he was here, worlds between his homeland but he still felt familiarity to the environment, the sentient life vibrated towards him and it was as if he one with it. His movements concealed , he was but a ghost pon nearly all radars, and he moved like one.

A commander within Vehemente, but for this mission it was simple to execute. He understood the assignment as he fully geared upon in his attire that resembled his lineage and loyalty to the Scarlet Moon Empire. His was fitted for the Crimson Knights, the elite of the kingdom. Such holds a blend of masterful craftsmanship and elegant design along with an infusion of Solizur. The armor is forged from a rare celestial alloy known as Sanguine Starsteel, and such is infused with the essence of the celestial trees of beginning, granting it a near indomitable resilience and a deep crimson hue that shimmers with celestial energy. The armor consists of perfectly designed plate mail, adorned with engravings depicting moons, stars, and symbols of the empire's rich history. The chest plate is emblazoned with the emblem of the Scarlet Moon, signifying the unity and strength of the empire. Such armor has sleek and slim form as it allows for ease of movement without compromising protection, enabling Yuske to swiftly navigate any battlefield.

Their helmets are sleek, yet formidable, featuring intricate designs that incorporate celestial motifs, with a visor that can be retracted. Such visor aids with blocking out toxins. Embedded within the helmets are specialized visors displaying an HUD, enhancing the knights' situational awareness during combat. His arms were coated in the similar material crafting the Luminous Gauntlets. These intricately designed gauntlets are etched with runes and feature a a built-in energy reservoir. On his back attached to the armor were his Aegis Cloaks. These lightweight yet resilient cloaks are woven from a unique blend of Sanguine Starsteel fibers and celestial silk. On his back was the stellar bow and his dawnshield was hinted with a baby blue runes on the back of his right hand. He was adorned with runes and celestial tablets that hinted at his metaphysical powers.

He arrived around the same time as his captain and leader Senko far west concealed neath the planetary ambiance of natural energies though he felt his companions, he remembered them all from the summit. He was on the second floor looking out the weapon where he held a full view of the environment, the jungle was wide but yet another playground for him personally. He reported to Senko and his companions “ Ima need a plate after this Shin”

[ .. EVERY DAY IS A NEW SORTIE ]

Another mission.

This time, it was to kill five "metahumans." An odd term employed by H.Q., implied to mean they weren't explicitly spell-casters or wizards, though he would assume they still had scrolls of some kind. Nevertheless, all current weapon systems had the green light, suggesting a relative category of power amongst the impending victims to that of a higher tier sorcerer. That is to say they weren't akin to a street magician, but less dissimilar to a city vanishing warlock of some sort. Troubling.

More troubling is Hayden Armstrong had not one or two but four allies in this mission. Friendlies that he was not permitted to terminate and bring the corpses back for examination until after the main objective was complete. Highly unusual. They weren't even affiliated with headquarters, but were outside contractors of some type. This meant each and every one of them were disclosure risks, and would typically require their termination by default after screening for volunteer status. Still, adaptability was part of the mission structure after all; Hayden had to come to terms with the facts not his preconceived notions. Five wizard-analogous hostiles, four witch-typical allies. Parameters were on lock.

wrrn WRRN WRRN rapidly emitted the rhythmic mechanized gears & gyros of a nightmarish robotic approximation of human form as it stepped across jungle brush. Lithe and smooth, it was a red machine standing at a mere 6'6", with enough weight to crush vegetation. There were many trees here; Brazil nut trees, rubber trees? Data was inconclusive. A six foot long "blade" composed of some red moving *matter* emitted from a handle base locked to the machine's right hand. There was no subtlety at play here, the code named Knight Model had been deployed for this mission. The cyborg within began to eloquently compute with his machine's Intel Core i27-39000J CPU optimized for gaming:

Mission re-analysis. Based on the probability of mage-like victims coupled with the surroundings, it should be assumed they intend to abuse the foliage for obscuring movements and launching attacks. Possibly able to manipulate the plant life into treants. Likely scrying on our location. Further noted there is no line of communication short of verbal within proximity of allied entities, while the opposition are likely utilizing speech magic. Database shows wizard spell [Message] exists, which will likely be employed before and during the spellcasters' ritualistic blood orgies for sating their deities in order to gain further magics. The scent of roasting meat can be detected on external sensors now, and is likely human in nature. Thus interrupting this ritual is advised.

However. Location and enemy means of information gathering are both well within expectations, and will be neutralized. Estimated chance of decapitation of hostile entities in face of Wizard Spell "Meteor Swarm" is 98%. "Time Stop" is dicier, but based on simulations sits at a respectable 52%.

Rather than trying to run the outside of the area, Hayden was definitely walking down the "center" of the region. There was precious little being done to obscure his presence, to the point one would have to assume he was making his presence well known intentionally. Despite medication to suppress the emotional inflections of volunteers, Hayden couldn't help but feel some of the adrenaline and regal nature of the swordsman whom his current movements were mapped around. Unnatural sword raised ahead of his helmet, left mechanized arm tucked behind his back; a pompous and refined posture for a machine that relentlessly crushed insects and split mud as it consistently moved ahead at an intentional pace.

Wizards were like pack animals. They wouldn't forgive his intrusion into their, he assumed, sex and feed den for very long and would also attempt the most cowardly assaults from as much reach as afforded to them and in highest number, giving them maximized safety. Thus, every passing second was like waving the red capote in front of the bull, or staring down an enemy gunman with finger on the trigger waiting for the signal; statistical noise that would suddenly solidify into destiny, stuffed to the brim with promises of peril .. and potential reward.

That burning question he the volunteer had subconsciously imprinted, then: would it be the red knight that drew blood this day, or the gold?

The jungle leaps with wicked heat and humidity— with the flickering shadows of predators. Even amongst the stench of muck and feral beasts, what cut through the rich stench of the tropics was the smell of fear. The din of Hayden's march through the decrepit earth was the first sign of danger that the jungle beasts knew to avoid the area; the big, red, metallic man stomping through the lush green like a bulldozer with the grace of a dancer. The other was the shadowless gait of another hunter. One less obvious than the first, but he— it— left behind the smell of burning wherever it passed. The song of exotic birds died in their throats, replaced with only the frantic flap of wings as they escaped from the burning smell of death's approach.

>Wake up, Reyes.

Jackson's eyes snapped wide to reveal burgundy embers, echoing with some semblance of the man lying just beneath the veneer of what the Blacklight Project wanted him to be. A killing machine, devoid of humanity— of the human spirit upon which raised itself up upon the throne of the soul. It took him the fraction of a second to assess his situation subconsciously, glancing around to see Hayden on his left-hand side, 60 feet away/20ft behind his flank and soaking up the focus. It was something oppurtune for him, who remained squarely indistinct from the biome, and found all supernally related aspects of himself hidden from prying eyes. His psychically imprinted instructions rang inside of his skull, giving a brief pause as he put his boot to an old stump.

>Mission parameters: Kill or capture priority target 56X intact. The rest are to be disposed of. You are clear for Azimuth level force.

Jackson blinked once as the subliminals rose to his mind's forefront, leaving him to take brief inventory. His tac-gear was equipped, and his hands had already subconsciously taken hold of his custom-made pistol, and the meteoric iron of the straight-edged combat knife. His left hand held the knife, and his right, the pistol; his right hand crossing over his left wrist as he ducked below the brush-line. Jackson observed the situation ahead as the woman came to the forefront, and their mechanized pilot came to meet them. For now, he observed, feeling the weight of his additional magazines on the specialized armored holsters on the left side of his midsection and was mindful of his suicide drugs all the while.

A small boat arrives traveling from the east, coming to a stop at the western edge of the riverbank. It runs into the silt and slides to a slow creeping halt, and its sole occupant steps out. He was a large man, wide in the shoulders, standing few inches taller than the average man. His body was rippling with naked primeval force, and his strength and dexterity was clearly visible on his body. When his foot made contact with the river bank, his toes sank into it as he made no sound. Even his breath was hushed by breathing long and slow through his large nostrils.

The Killing King, Mosi Musesma, was needed for his unique talents. He had been summoned by a strange glowing tablet whose words could be slid up and down its smooth black glassy surface. The words meant very little to him, he did not care about the why, or the who. He was a prophet of death, and when death called, he answered. It was meant to be that is all that matters.

The two allies who had already arrived, were mechanical men. They were positioned further ahead, and he was by the river outlet presently. He reached into the boat, pulling his five spears out, he looped them into the leather thong that was at the small of his back. Keeping one in his hand, which his fingers squeezed gently. The feel of the wood grain against his palm was pleasant, these were freshly made spears. They felt young and new, they had not tasted blood yet.

He stepped away from the boat, and moved towards the brush, his body bent, his knees pulled him low to the ground. The deep bronze of his skin becoming of one tone with the natural tones of the forest as he slid into the tall foliage. The scent of cooking came from the Northwest, brushing his nostrils as he sniffed the wind. He could smell the individual ingredients, the chef was not to his standard. This was an unfair assessment, as he was once a king, but it was an honest one.

Surfing atop a matte black Dodge Magnum a fair distance behind Hayden, the suspension raised such that it could easily traverse the jungle floor, balanced that grease stain of a scoundrel, that slinking death’s shadow, ‘First-Degree’ Donny. Like a back alley goon from the 30’s, his trench coat, dress shoes, black gloves, fedora were all pitch black, in contrast to his pale, freckled corpse-like face and sunken green eyes. Ginger hair curled up beneath his hat like licks of autumn fire, hued the same as the feather mustache decking his upper lip. Slung over his back was a Tavor X95 bullpup and cradled in his arms was a rifle the size of a German shepherd.
Glancing at the barely lit iPhone strapped to his left bicep, he saw through his vehicle’s live thermal vision a distant spark of heat, a cooking fire, and through the flickering trunks of trees the small burning blips of a few unsheltered enemies.

Spotting an appropriately sized tree, he heaved his 85 pound .950 JDJ hunting rifle overhead and hooked it on a thick bough. As the car sped out from beneath him and into the jungle, he swung himself up with his forward momentum and smoothly transitioned to prone position with the barrel of the rifle cradled in the forked end of the bough, never taking his attention off what lay at the fore throughout this maneuver. As an ex-Green Beret used to carrying heavy packs over long distances, a mere 85 pound load was but a trifle. For the finishing touch he had cast a handkerchief over the scope earlier. The handkerchief itself had been smothered in dirt and stretched out so the mesh weave was wide enough to permit him clear visibility through the scope, but would prevent any glare from the lens giving him away at range.

Uncannily, the hitman had no ki, no numen, not even a soul to detect. He was but a mortal man, though how easy it is to forget what man really is. The culmination of billions of years of natural selection, the greatest living byproduct of the slaughter of the ages. In particular Donny’s mind was honed to an obsidian edge and not an ounce of pity graced his coal black heart, less so an idealistic being, moreso a machine of flesh and blood, purposed only to efficiently murder every opposing lifeform in this jungle and shovel them into candy-colored coffins for a paycheck.

By this point he was approximately 400 yards from where Shin was preparing a meal, and about 275 yards from Akane and Totsu, his position directly East of the small lake where they goofed about. About 150 yards frontwards Hayden marched, and through his scope Donny could also survey Akane, Shin, and Senko’s positions all at once. Through the screen of his iPhone he’d be able to ascertain Reyes’ and Danger’s progress as well, as he subtly directed the remote control armored car through the foliage towards the Northwest to see if he could swiftly arrange it about a hundred meters Northeast of Shin and Senko. The engine was electric, so the only noise the vehicle made emanated from the bulletproof wheels as they glided over shrubbery and bramble. In the backseat rolled a solitary grenade canister.

As the hitman studied his prey, specialized earbuds in either ear picked up muted words from ahead, but as far as he could tell they didn’t come from Akane. “Aye, aye, oyabun.” Given Totsuka was a mere several feet from Akane who danced at the center of the lake, yet he was still sheltered by walls, there must’ve been a small patch of ruins in the ice and Donny came to the immediate conclusion there was another target within them.
A wry smirk tugged at the corners of his pooched lips, his gaze the stoned veneer of a professional going through the motions. He saw only bodies still living and the alien shapes that encompassed them, strange in their temporality. Vines and trees, ruins and rocks... Before the dread oblivion that veiled reality, surrounded it as a sea of midnight, the only emotion the hitman felt was the usual dull anticipation of seeing the entrails expelled from his bipedal quarry as bullets tore them asunder, and laid them open to the warmth of the rising sun.

The message had come through his DynaTech v17 Pager. A simple message, as it had to be. It was just a fancy alternate future pager. He was to bisect the tempoverse he had been bumming about in at the ZK Axis at 2763 hours precisely and then recursively corpusclate counterspacewise until he reached well...here. And so here he was. Somewhere. Set to kill a few weirdos and then probably get a really cool reward. That probably should have been hashed out with whoever sent him that message, but he had just jumped at the chance to womp some randoms. Ah well. Next time.

The vantablack semipermeable membrane of spacetime folded into itself behind him, once he had sufficiently cleared the event horizon. Without delay Dangerrutito Fontainuixic got his Hexx Texx-Goggs both Hexxing and Texxing. Picking up life forms to the South and South West. Weebs it would seem. It was always weebs.

"Breaker Breaker One Niner I got like four bogies. All weebs. I repeat all weebs. Come in you guys. My call sign is Omnissiah. Over and out."

It was a reference to a guy from Warhammer. Which is a thing for nerds. But not weeb nerds, normal nerds, which are marginally less nerdy. But it was kind of a fitting reference. Omnissiah. That dude was like a magic technology dude. The rest of the squad would be able to hear his equally informative and nonsensical ramblings thanks to a particularly potent combination of "magic" and Future Russian technology. Called it a Thaumic VocoRecordoer, patent pending. The neat thing is worked both ways. Again magictech. Very technical, very magical.

Situation at hand. Temple thing. Lake dealie. Paths. Trees. Weebish Target rich environment He had seen this before. It was like a Dungeons and Dragons encounter. But with robots and weebs. Therefore it was superior to Dungeons and Dragons. He liked it.

A dumbshit grin spread fully across his dumbshit face in a split second. This was going to be fun.

Hexx-Texx Goggs self modulating their Muon Capacity and scanning through several different viewmodals to best optometrize the battlefields. Thaumic VocoRecordoer thaumically vocorecordoering for them all. Aromatic Polyamide Weave suit weaving all his polyamides very aromatically. Also it was hugging his every curve and crevice like a jilted lover finally reunited with her Romeo but for one night only and then never again until the next time her Romeo gets stood up.

In addition to that, the almost pornographic tightness of the suit I mean, it was adapting to Dangerrutito's environment to help him remain undetected. Not via some sort of Adaptive Camouflage system, although it probably maybe could do that too, but because it was tied in through some mysterious means (quite possibly Dangerrutito's ass) to his mind. Responding to his desire to be just stealthy as fuck. All kinds of sneaky.

Likewise the soul of his banished bastard boy B-Rad responded to the hum of blood and adrenaline through Dangerrutito's body. It couldn't respond much, being just a soul and a soul trapped in a sword at that, but that sword, Trilobieskni by name. Yes, yes that Trilobieskni, the very same. The Blade of Legend. The Sword of Myth. The Katana of Dread. The Loosener of Shackles. The Remover of Bras. The Sabre of the Downtrodden. The Zweihander of the Einhanded. Fucking Cool Sword Bro. That sword. It hummed, metaphorically, very much eager to be let loose upon a weeb or two. Also to get a body again instead of being trapped in a sword.

In summation, as Dangerrutito Fontaniuxic methodically moved through the brush and whispered his sightings to the others, through his Thaumic VocoRecordoer, he was ready. Very ready. To Rumble.

So ready was he, in fact, that he decided he ought to provide his battle brothers, or whatever, with a rousing vocal performance. Whispered of course, Thaumically, via his VocoRecordoer, into each of their brains or ears or some shit. Dangerrutito wasn't super clear on the details of magitech. What he was clear on was the general tune of "Where Did Our Love Go" by The Supremes. Released in 1964. Diana Ross and the Funk Brothers. Dangerrutito was pretty sure Smokey Robinson produced.

A very fitting soundtrack for the lovefest that was about to kick off.

Enlightenment. She - like the clan’s elders and her mother and mother’s mother - resided in absolute enlightenment. Atoned with a blink. She felt her muscles relax and decompress amongst the approaching tide. Though forgone for this engagement, battle still called to her in the most intimate of ways and she came to its heed. Everything about their opponents screamed sloppy. Loud, the lack of raid fire, the absence of any armies…

“Surely, they did not send five lone warriors to do their bidding.” Senko said in disbelief.

Her eyes wide, unblinking. The world had gone quiet and her ears twitched. Her hair began to dance at the ends as worldly power flowed through her.

“Ah, never mind. Happenstance. They lack a banner. Structure. A shame, really.”

Senko’s movements were phantomlike. Her speed - a zephyr.

Her energies coursed through both her Son and Twin sister. Their ancestors rejoicing in an act of magnificent refinement. Life force poured into them from the body they all fought upon. It swirled within their irises and flowed like a tide. A blend smeared upon the intricate spaces paved for sensory organs as pre-gaia filled their brimming wells more. She struggled to contain a sudden, but joyful outburst. All of their skills suddenly sky-rocketting. The innate ones and the edge to the martial abilities. This was known as paragon optimal finesse. Amongst many of her Chi abilities. This one proved to be entirely utility based. A heat-wave befell upon the forest - the language of the trees carried it forth, blanketing the battle in sweltering humidity. Where Akane reigned, however, was colder than ever. Non-blood unharmed, unaffected least by the benefits of this byproduct.

Additionally, Shin would find his affinity bolstered too. The density of his Chi warmed her heart and Akane’s everwinter gave her pleasant chills. Innately, their own individual Kōka sheru, Jinsei and Ryuzhang came alive. Harsh lessons, endless nights of training. Those memories freshened themselves in their homes, blooming their positive attributes through their chi; the antidote to butterflies. But none of them had any.

Instead she felt more alive than ever. She clasped her hands together and the ecosystem their opponents began to wander into came to life. The animals did not shy away from danger but collapsed into a frenzied state. Their calls filled the forest air, drumming against the morning sun’s rays.Tribal and raw. The trees stretched their limbs and the grass yawned toward the firmament. The winds grew volatile, screeching at the transgressors with an unseen fury. The vehicle was met as it ran from its master with a vicious wind blade. It was shaped like a sickle, aimed downwards with the wingspan of a few oscillating meters. Superheated with the gift of displacement. It whirled through the trees with deadly precision leaving a wake of pink embers in its wake shadowed by a translucent heat. This would spread rapidly, hardening the earth and migrating humidity North.

This would take no more than a few seconds to reach the car, but as it traveled it grew in size by a meter or so with every passing ten feet. Ripping a perfectly symmetrical line through the scalp of Gaia. It cast a magnificent shadow and as all parts of her detonation, it was cut from the same cloth. The scent of sweet fire accompanied it. This rotating blade of wind, if interrupted or it hit its target, exploded into fifty other blades that utilized the kinetic collapse for abrupt growth, all with a greater velocity and momentum. She could manipulate it at will, so the contingency was left up to her. Her shiryoku had already tethered itself to this particular arena. To everything and with ease. The usual battlefield for her had far more variables in play than this one and with her family at her side. There were far less circumstances to worry about.

All of them had been docked. Discerned through this scrying, protected eye. The forest told her. The insects did. The animals too. Ghosts of war unveiled themselves and the shadows parted their curtains for her stride of divination. Reinforced, anomalies were easily recognized and so the hunt began.

Her glory finally stood from where she had been sitting in meditation and stretched out. Her fists shadow boxed the air a few times. Far less flashy of her technique than her sister. Her private aura had solidified itself before the assailants began pouring in. It tugged against the atmosphere with its weight and yet, rebounded streaks of light in its translucence. Different poly and hexagonal shapes morphed amidst its covering of her flesh. A constant sign of its reinforcement.

“Race you to first blood!!!!!”

And her voice carried summer with it.

The individual piloting a lesser mech known as an "auto" "mobile" from the olden centuries had a projectile of expanding mass launched their way.. but that, frankly, was over there. Not over here. Enemy wizards had methods of scrying, so it was nothing surprising that an attack would be launched at the rear detachment.

Unfortunately, Hayden was between the source of this corrupted magic and its target. Thus, he would never know its true intended victim. Only that a problem lie ahead. Let us not get ahead of ourselves though: first the prelude.

The forest descended into unnatural summer, turning the once lush canopy into a sweltering oven. The air shimmered with heat, thick and heavy, as if it were resisting any attempt to breathe it in. That same air vibrated with the piercing cries of panicked animals, their voices carrying through the darkness ahead and abound like a haunting symphony of rage. In the business that was supernatural extermination, this was what often got called a "tell." Magic worked like that, sick, degenerate magic. Sure enough, any time you heard a queer noise or spotted a warped sight, you could be assured it was that arcane failure at work.

Hayden choked back the bile at the back of his throat, air conditioning inside the Knight Model working overtime to keep it a comfortable 69° Fahrenheit. Made him sick. Bet there were dark clerics nearby waiting with mac-

"!!"

The signal. We exited the prelude and entered the rising action phase. Oh sure, the forest bent to the sick sorcerer's whims, trees moaning and grass crying, but it was the pressure.. that undeniable pressure like when facing down the barrel of a gun and attempting to preempt the trigger pull. That was what gave Hayden the runner's alert. If it took three seconds to reach "the car," and Hayden was somewhere prior to those three seconds, certainly above one second, 1.5 seconds or perhaps we could generously grant 2 seconds..

That was more than enough.



Pressure regulators, gravity stabilizers (and destabilizers where appropriate), inertia dampeners, shock absorbers. These things and more engineered within the suits of Hayden were what separated his speed-ups from the rabble. A galloping horse or a marching army, a leaping athlete or an agile bird, they all shared flaws: dedicating time to adjust their movements, to turn. Many didn't even have thrusters. Frankly pathetic!

This was to say, the foliage and trees weren't impediments. Not because they were weak, but because to Hayden as he ping-ponged around them while maintaining top momentum in a blurred haze of mechanized nightmare, their "outline" was found wanting, insignificant in mass and their stillness. The red swordbot would exit this sudden acceleration having aimed itself at a 45 degree angle from off the ground, and though the "step" was only 10 feet in total distance, the machine would easily clear another twenty feet as its feet finally clapped onto the ground from momentum -- north from his original placement and with advanced notice provided by the entire landscape and all of its inhabitants, the time to make his distance from the expanding "scythe" was hard to argue insufficient.

Thus the druid spell Sunbeam, as Hayden has initially presumed was going to imminently strike him due to the heat signature detection and beast frenzies, had been avoided. All was well. For him. Exclusively for him.

Places everybody. Places.

‘ So this is how it begins? ‘

The thought crossed his mind at the oncoming of opponents, having been shrouded in the ever-clutching darkness and the worlds mysteries, he sunk deeper. There would be no relief for the eyes or anything comparative, the former shinobi and black operative knew how to maneuver or rather out-maneuver those with supernal gaze. It wasn't a hard task, whatever they did take notice of wasn't true. He'd naturally taken to the ebb and flow of this reality's energies and matter, making himself and his existence with them. His sclera turned a murky color, the color in his pools sputtering out of life and the childish wonder fled with haste. There was nothing, there never had been anything to sense from him. No killer intent. No bloodlust. No desire. No energy. No life.

There was just an absence of a fifth person entirely, the only ones who knew he was present could have only been his allies. As if he was bleeding into the backdrop, having his all immediately drained and broadcasted by the leylines as soon as the opponents arrived. His words were unheard as there was nothing really to hear — they hadn't arrived yet when he spoke, especially as the first immediate person to reply to the commander. Heat signatures, energy and other varying forms emitted by the normal person wouldn't register — there was no difference between that abyss and himself. The environment and himself. Shadow and himself. That much would remain as true as he sank deeper and deeper, hidden by the fervent bustle and march of his allies' perpetual buff. It was a shame. It was far too late too soon.

He was used to the cold, he felt it's kiss — finding that it was always pleasing to the eyes when watching The Ryuusei work. Their flawless coordination in the presence of one another could seldom be outmatched, especially when coupled with the dominating presence of Senko II. Even so he'd use that, all of them, to enact his swift execution of opponent after opponent. Poaching is what Senko would've called it, but his role called for it. Why appear if he didn't have to? Anyone who didn't tread lightly would unfortunately be killed. This wasn't war, he was bound to no whimsical code of honor these mongrels had. So, he moved, shifting via shadow, dancing within light and ambience. With no meta imprint to be found to subtle shift within the uproar caused by Senko.

His movements as swift as a dragon, domineering like Zeus' bolts - each leftward, backward, right and forward in simultaneity as he anchored himself spatially to each of his allies; one was real and the others would all be supplementary actions for rapid transfer to each of his allies. If anyone could truly track him, it would be like watching him split into multiple dense forms - each no different from the other as they traveled like that of light through chosen mediums. The leylines didn't react yet, they surged with Quintessence and mixed with his own; the backdrop of the forefront - actions masked by each of the Ryuusei's activated abilities.

Gaea was theirs and theirs alone on all aspects — yet what they didn't use, he had taken over immediately. A deep, rooting — deep seeded series of pulse would expand, meta-blades caught in spiral, and their form galvanized as they manifested with nearby fauna. These would form as dense coils that unraveled themselves as frenzied omnidirectional wavelengths that expanded outwards in chase following The Swallow in its race. Wood cracked, emerald leaves raced under his enchantment — sound chasing the current, expanding outwards in vicious booms that would be beneficial to his allies as they were caught in his slipstream, harmful to the opponents who were unused to the vibratory functions of his pending assault, lodging bits of tracking meta-shrapnel between bonds before detonation. All happening on mirroring planes, the hulking target was being scanned — dense armor structure would be used against him as the clash would be focused into a fine point. Bombarding integral structures, forcing them to vibrate, using each one to sink _deep_ — he was too close to Akane.

Akane would see him, if she looked. He doubted his opponents would notice the ripples and reflection changes on the surface of freezing pond whose depth knew no limit. He held his breath, feeling his energies augment his strength and resistances as a superfluous amount of energy surged through him. Tightened and surging with a likeness to lightning, each one of them would feel it. Above them and directly ahead of them — the tip of his blade aimed for the nip of their neck and heart. The entirety of the forest would feel it, all of it would express it. The demon was on the hunt, aiming to slip that blade into all of his opponent's throats and chests. His blade, its flow would allow the sharpness to split the structure through overbearing stimulation, forcing opposing structures away from them through chaotic charge as the gravina lance was imposed around it conjured via a shift between internal energy of the weapon and its user.

Kiai Technique: Thousand Catty Step + Origin Shadow Chasing Strike.

Initiative.

Like clockwork, the death rattle of this ecosystem mistook itself for life's first breath. Naturae's divine spark flowed freely through the leylines and in through Earth's Champion— the land yielded unto its herald the sweetest of its fruits. Senko's own apple of Eden. Against any man, tapping into this world's heart was a fearsome boon to wield, but Agent Reyes was a man no longer. No, he had been suppressed beneath psychological conditioning, and where the sun had once set beautifully over the horizon of his eyes, there were only pitiless chasms. Reyes was already aware of the opposition's positioning, try as they might to hide themselves energetically. From the top down, Reyes is a miracle of bioengineering. Not only were his cells ten times smaller than the average person, but they were that much more effective and numerous too. Consequently, Reyes could smell, hear, see and even taste them on the air. All mundane expressions of their presence that they apparently neglected to hide, and in the midst of a forest, Reyes has the discipline and refined senses to pick them out. It was a keen awareness that any telepathically gifted amongst them could share the conception of amongst them. The killing machine that he is briefly hefted his gun as Senko erected the forest itself against them, and envisioned scorched earth. Of desolation wrought upon nature, leaving not even salt to be picked from Gaea's carcass.

He became a demon core unto himself. The madness of mindfire radiated from him not in a brilliant flash, but with the insidiousness of a heatwave. A faint ripple in the air, which flows outwardly from the first firing of neurons in recognition of this. His mind flattened the fauna and splattered wildlife, scorching even the ground beneath his feet to a barren waste for 20 feet. Such were the machinations of industry, which choked Gaea's main artery through the brainpox of Reyes' makings and bonded to her boundless force to become neither psionic weght nor a thing of life, but a new thing— a poison to sup upon. An enfeebling thing that castrates the soul and brings low the fleshly blessings they once enjoyed. In that way, though the chaos of Reyes' mind spilled into the material for 20 feet, it was not to be understated. The weight of his mind was the sum total of the multitudes of supernal actions taken by Totsuka, a singular consolidation of exploding and burning energy that thwarted his much more spread out energy, and threatened to obliterate his mind's eye from exposure— though it was a shared punishment to his matriarch, who acted as a filter for him.

Reyes needn't aim to shoot from that point onward. Spatial awareness and a quick glance were sufficient enough to fire with dead-accuracy brought about by superfine motor controls and a superior nervous system. Senko mustered the winds about the time two shots of armor piercing depleted uranium reached an inch from both the center right and left of her chest, in eerily close coordination to each other, followed close by a third aimed for right between her eyes that accounted for the now changing direction of the wind. All accelerated by the outward emanation of his psychic force, shot and placed into the slipstream of deliberately projected power. Reyes rolled forward-right in a swift evasion of the initial wind blade if it proceeded still, and rolled right twice more in quick succession with the lift provided by his psychic aura to remain mobile to avoid any follow-up projectiles, including the gravina lances if any, then rose up back to his feet; shooting a fourth at Shin's upper right thigh, following the scheme of his third bullet; leaving his mind to wander about harsher interpretations of his psionic might. To visualize about how else he might destroy his enemies.

By the way of her people the mind was held brittle to their hand. Oh so wholly did they dance a mighty tone of triumph. His sole intention held no ground to their mighty chant. She danced again, danced continuously as distant artilleries would lay waste to freezing waves. Nothing but so foolish errors to believe what the eyes saw. She had hid herself with the jungle’s natural breathing of chi the moment they found themselves hiding amongst eyes. Her sister, the foundation of Gaia held no slippery slope. As Akane held her metaphysical hand, did she add her rage. She had seen her fair share of psychic individuals. One that nearly left her lifeless. An Etharian that spilled blood as if it was nothing but spilled milk. A true psychopath. As for what store before her now? Fodder.

His intention held no ground indeed. In fact, by the way of her chi did she kiss him with a hex. Her dance was not only for show. To drown one’s self in a foreign language was fool’s play. Even for the Ryuusei hands they knew not to drink too hastily from the well. Taxing. The Devil Fist. Her moniker held weight that gave light to her twisted style. No fair play. The very poisoning he attempted would be wholly turned against him. The moment he peered his mind into what he knew not did chaos reign supreme. Dark chi would be his greeting at the doorstep to their well. Shadows of the whole that lurked within the stream for those who were foolish enough to deem themselves godly. It hissed at his intrusion and told nightmares to his mental after eradicating his influence completely via nether gateways. A cleansing in the darkest ways.

Black lightning shook the horizon as what looked like a charging bull galvanized fabricated molecules. It stood at a size that tripled that of the largest bulls known to man. At speeds that mimicked its consumption. A sign of the cursed chi that attached itself to his signature in that moment he opened his door raging through his neurons. Its horns aimed at his heart as he rolled around the dirt. The skies would darken to his point of view. Creeping blackness. His war would now be on two fronts.

Her motions were swift. The dancing afterimage solidified by the way of her cold chi. Her sister’s blessing empowered her. Senko’s heat raged through the chant that shrouded their spirit. Reinforced by their lineage’s strength. There existed no one on one’s when dealing with their will. Akane would continue to play support. Her chi locked the leylines even further. Four against one. The oddest were against the psychopath. An “x” in her books. Her sister’s assault matched on as one of their foes attempted to maneuver. She knew better than to believe there wouldn’t be a follow up.

Onto the next.

Her speed was miraged by the multitude of dancing images, whilst her signature masked by the world chi that existed in everything around them. Including the likes of plants, rocks, and the animals that roamed about. The planet was alive, breathing, and supplying its protectors with its natural synergy. Like a flowing ocean she had made herself nothing but a wave. Any scope would be told a false dream. Her region dropped further in temperature. Freezing degrees that displayed frost on the evergreen. A sector that sectioned off the eastern side of the jungle into her frostbitten dominion. A sign of her building energy syncing with the buffs she was receiving. No longer upon the waves, she had moved prior to their engagement. Knowledge of their presence spoken through the world's language they protected.

Refraction would be the source of mockery. Bent light bouncing off the frosted air as she seemed to be in multiple places at once. All within the eastern division. Only twenty meters from where Donny thought he hid, to his left came a chi fist of true sable lighting. A single strike carried by the controlled rage she was currently building. Timed to strike once reactions to her partner's arcane constructs were made. A hawking strike that would fill his escape route as she marched closer. Snipers always needed to be dealt with head on. Her clearance would be swift from this point on as she bounced between tree branches. Her partner's presence held tight to her motions. He was savvy, that was for sure. She would make sure his intention was brought upon their enemies as he watched her six. The strike extended her reach and aimed for the sniper’s center mass. It would bring him more than just an electric shock.

Continuing westward away from the river, Mosi's nose tracked the smoke of cooking until he was fully outwards from being downwind. A considerable distance of dozens of meters away, there was some disturbance of wind between the other four of his allies and the prey they hunted as a pack. It was far too far from him to concern himself with it, they would manage their own games, and he would kill the others one after the other. The wind, however, was changed so he could only use his spatial awareness to continue navigating in relation to the assumed position.

If only Mosi could hear the thoughts of those he hunted. It would take an absurd abstract killing for him to gain that ability, and so it was truly unfortunate that he could not mock Senko for believing her sight protected. Certainly, her sight was protected from sensory overload. However, Mosi was not capable of overloading senses, instead he was capable of something much stranger.

As the strange awareness of the woman, Senko, extended into his region. Mosi bore witness to it, seeing it as a slithering film of mucous that crept across the landscape. Infiltrating that which could be, and granting her the strange sight necessary to detect them all. It was a very solid decision, observation of one's foes is certainly a valuable asset on the battlefield. With the expansion of the observational field of energy, the woman had exposed herself to Mosi.

He stood erect, stepping in match with the approaching energy, avoiding it as only he could. He danced westward, moving in a crescent to evade the groping, grasping, clawing extension of Senko's self for as long as was possible. By the time he was touched by the Chi sense, he was almost fully southwards of the central structure. He was just slightly off the southwards road, and could look down the road through the brush of the forest.

Crossing the road in two leaping strides, he continued along the edge of the road directly up towards the central structure. As far as he knew, there was no one along this path, the indicators all pointed towards his four allies engaging with the other targets. However, the goal of the wayfaring hunter was to circle around and find weaknesses in the enemy's positions. One such weakness became apparent as he came closer to the structure.

Mosi was low, one hand pressed against the ground as he made long crawling strides. From the brush he spotted the concealed armor clad being known as Yuske. He was on the second floor of the structure, Yuske was the only one around. Both parties, it seemed, had a single loner which had opted for the furthest position from their groups. The difference in personality and efficacy showed in where and how they did so.

The chi radiance did in fact continue up towards Yuske, as Mosi's eyes traced the line of it. There was only one logical course of action to follow, Mosi turned his spear towards the radiation of chi, and his eyes narrowed into slits. There, he saw the concepts, the fundamental makeup of the radiance that permitted the adversaries to see him and his allies. So too did he see a layer of protection, a strange thing. Conceptual protection, a shield between him and the chi that helped connect and empower his adversaries. It was novel, to be sure, little divinities playing at God. They thought they had power. Mosi smiled, his apish teeth peering through peeled back lips of glee.

Mosi raised his spear overhead and plunged the leaf shaped blade into the concept of the Ryuusei Chant. Like some wicked blade plunging into the dreams of children, cleaving the goodness from them and leaving them in a nightmare, Mosi raised his spear again and plunged it back down into the Ryuusei Chant. The first layer of protection, the chant that was meant to guard against attack, was itself under attack by Mosi. If there were a being which was representative of, or solely responsible for, the Ryuusei chant it would be as if they were being stabbed by an unseen assailant.

Worse still, they could do little but retract their sense of him or have the protection stripped away. It was not as if the concept was capable of defending itself from being killed. As he raised his spear again for the killing stroke, it would be up to the woman to withdraw it.

“...” Confusion crossed his visage as he caught sight of what he assumed would be his opponent. A machine of some sort? He did not expect it. It might prove to be a challenge, but the vibrations produced with movement were happily lapped up into the martial artist. He had steeled himself for the fight to come. Three steps forward as his allies acted. It was fitting that two tanks were to come across one another in the middle lane. Yet this seemed to be nothing more than hopeful dreams. His mother moved with haste. Befitting as he knew her style and signature the best out of his other allies. Even should he lose sight of her, he'd be able to detect her presence with a bit of effort. But he was also not afraid that she would be fine running into the field ahead of him. She was strong and had far more experience than himself. He was confident that she was the vanguard that would serve best out of the five of them.

Of course, that did not mean he would not give her a loving touch as she raced off. Chi bestowed upon both mother and aunt in one fluid motion. A burst of chi that carried the unique characteristic of his pool. Supporting their actions with basic supplements of his vibrations. These vibrations would allow for ease in penetrating defenses in such a manner that one might question the nature of the strike. At the current level, it was not something to write home about, but it would be more than enough to get through base levels. He may not understand the full concepts of how their elements would mash together when placed, but he did have quite a bit of practice with utilizing vibrations. This was something his uncle came to understand firsthand. Even so, he did receive a bit from his mother. In turn, causing him to feel a warmth within his bosom.

As if she had passed the torch onto him. He could only imagine that this was a sensation his mother had felt when she was younger. He could feel it almost immediately. He felt like he was far sharper than previously and wanted to make use of it. Even as he witnessed his mother attempt to split the ground vehicle in one fluid motion. He wanted to see how his mother and aunt would react to the natural chi he had sent forth via vibrations. But he did not wish to wait around. He should be heading over to the team fight. His job had always been to absorb damage and make the most of things. But he handled it differently. As far as he understood, it seemed like a scuffle was bound to occur where his aunt originated. Though it had originally been two, it would seem that numbers currently played a factor in an advantage for them.

So he intended to travel in the direction where only one of his allies resided—west. Ready to race forward as the sound of a bullet struck a nearby tree. This caused his movements to pause and use another tree as cover within the jungle, and in turn, catch sight of something...odd. Physically. With sight alone. He took note of the other who traveled up the center lane—where Shin himself had been since this originated. Had he seen him racing off and that was what caused him to try and get closer to the temple? Maybe. But this being had gotten by where he hid. Seemingly unaware that Shin remained within the jungle itself. Was his focus on something else? Why was he moving so stealthy then? Had it been to try and play a mind trick upon the young male? Not that it mattered. Everything seemed to point that the other had been focused on something else.

In one fluid motion, the Shin flung forth his kunai aimed between the eyes of the other with the very gift bestowed upon him from his mother. The range was so close that he had easily seen the whites of his eyes. The other did detail getting close to the temple after all. It had only been when the other had sought to drive that spear downwards had Shin acted. In one fluid motion did he seek to strike the back of the neck of this being, Mosi. Shin held no information on who he was or what he intended to do, but it did look like he pushed a little too far. The kunai traveled swiftly, carrying with it more than enough force to dislodge the spinal column at the base of the skull. Of course, this was not the true purpose of the weapon. The sharp point was intended to pierce flesh using the increased gravity pull of the planet itself to rip apart flesh.

Using his right hand, the hand closest to Mosi, he sought to deliver a swift strike before the other could realize he was there. Should the strike land or not did not matter. This was because Shin was being careful to keep his senses in touch. Searching for disturbances in the air via vibrations to make the best choices. Despite this, should his assassination succeeded or not did not matter. If this turned into an isolated fight, it would be for the best. This was because this being was after something. Plotting a trap or maybe placing a curse of some sort. But if he could stop the other with an attack from his blindside, it would be for the best. He could feel it now. Those vibrations built up within his knuckles. Ready to be used.

It was true that Donny’s scope told a ‘false dream’ aside from his view of Shin taking his three steps in the background, beyond Totsu and with Senko off to the side. The wind whipped wildly about, billowing the hitman’s coat flaps, but his black gloved hands were rock steady, his concentration laser intense. He observed his primary targets and the way leaves flipped through the air. A mortal man such as he peering through the lens by itself wouldn’t see through the distortion of light camouflaging his enemies, however it wasn’t the scope alone that enabled Donny to spot his prey. It was also his expertise as a former Special Forces operative, his honed technique, and a little trick he’d pulled earlier in preparation for this conflict.

The handkerchief he’d smothered in dirt, stretched out into a mesh, and draped over his scope before the battle had clearly escaped the notice of his enemies, no doubt because the minute, latent chi in said dirt had obfuscated its presence. They could sense his lack of chi, but this subtle deception went a step further. If they’d known of it, they’d have tried to use it against him already, yet not a single one had had a thought or taken a step concerning the implement. They wouldn’t have guessed the true utility of this simple improvisation in a thousand years. It was something only a modern killer trained at the highest level would have understood the value of, and in this backwater podunk realm they didn’t have knowledge of cutting edge military equipment or tactics.

Certainly the man-made tools of war at his disposal were unnatural, apart from nature, so these foes wouldn’t be able to sense how his advanced technology functioned. They may intuit the purpose of a gun, the locomotion of a car, but the rest was a mystery of human engineering.

The handkerchief on his scope wasn’t only meant to serve as a ‘glare shield’, but as a means of enabling him to shoot opponents that normally would be considered 'invisible’. Since 2012 Canadian and U.S anti-terrorism units have employed the use of Quantum Stealth technology, a form of light bending camo. Donny had been trained to snipe out enemies through this ruse.
Recognizing the barely noticeable haze of distorted light streak out from the ruins near the pond and from Akane’s true position, Donny squinted one eye and refocused through the mesh on his scope, the minute saccadic twitches in his gaze utterly ceasing, the other eye wide open and staring inward at the lens.

In doing so he replicated the ‘double slit experiment’, an optical illusion wherein the shadow blister effect causes the silhouettes of multiple or unseen objects, in this case illusionary clones, to ‘blister’ towards the true source of origin. In effect it diffracts the distorted light particles with an interference pattern (the mesh on his scope), causing cloaked targets to reappear as vague black ellipses rising vertically from the ground.

He’d not be able to distinguish limbs nor heads but he’d plainly see the approximate positions of his prey as they attempted to escape notice. The shadows of Akane’s clones bent in towards her true body, and Totsu’s form appeared before the hitman as a blurry dark line zipping towards the pond.

The hitman lay in the classic 4-point prone sniper position, the crook of his right forearm bent below the rifle so his free hand could manipulate the iPhone on his bicep even as he aimed, a true master of multitasking. Indeed, he’d trained to be ambidextrous decades ago.
By the time Senko’s wind blade was nearly upon his vehicle it’d already made substantial progress to the Northeast due to her time spent prattling on, and hearing the attack coming, seeing its shadow through the dashcam, Donny simultaneously performed two actions.

He threw the Dodge Magnum into a sharp drift with a twist of his index finger and thumb on the screen, his thumb poised upon another input. The vehicle spun counter-clockwise to orient itself in the direction of the pond and the targets near it, coolly dodging the wind blade as it shot down. Donny had been able to tell where his vehicle was via the doppler effect, gauging distance by the faint sound it made moving away, and with his other eye wide open he could take advantage of pareidolia in his scope, refocusing on the faint inverted reflection of his iPhone in the lens to identify what lay ahead of his remote control vehicle, including the faint flare of heat briefly shrouding Akane’s spirit as she began to move behind Totsu’s relative position. Not that he needed this indicator, he had already triangulated her location.

As this occurred Donny exhaled, trigger finger suddenly tensing as his crosshairs locked onto a point just above Totsu’s center mass, his killing intent spiking towards them like the cold jolt of breathless terror one feels when they lose their footing on the edge of a steep precipice. Therein lay an imminent kill shot. Totsu’s supernatural perception might warn him in vague advance of his death, though odds are the premonition wouldn't change the result. Once Donny fired in the next oncoming instant it’d be too late for Totsu, too late for most of his team.

The .950 JDJ rifle could fire a bullet at Mach 2 with roughly 26,000 foot pounds of energy behind it. In particular the cartridge Donny used had a depleted uranium penetrator that could bore into a tank, the function of the bullet to self sharpen upon impact and reach temperatures of up to 1,000°C.

As for the deadly remnants of the wind scythe near the hitman’s car, the chi blades that may soon appear at his chest and throat, the thundershock fist hurtling at him from the flank, and the many other dangers to be… How these were precisely dealt with would all hinge explicitly upon Totsu’s reaction to the impending threat of Donny’s shot, as of yet to be seen since the timing of the lightning fist would depend upon Donny's reaction to the chi blades. Perhaps they’d land flush and obliterate the hitman on the spot, or maybe after he initiated his preemptive attack he’d find some way to evade and survive. It all depended upon what Totsu did in that very instant.

The hitman’s calculated move would take only a split second, and all of these other devastating blows were as of yet to come at that moment. Perhaps he was going to count on the support of his team, but at this early point in time before Totsu had reached the pond and before Akane had remotely closed in to initiate her own offensive, a pivotal stroke would take place that may drastically influence the rest of the fight; a devastating blast that could pierce through stone and steel, nullify solid barriers as if they were tissue paper and slay first the elusive demon. The defensive measures Totsu took to survive before that shot would determine if and how Donny survived the follow-up attacks launched by the enemy team.

Hexxin an' a Texxin, Dangerrutito Fontainuxic's Goggs were flooding his brain and unconscious and semiconscious and Id and Ego and Super Ego and (given his suit's unique method of interface) very possibly his butthole with multitudinous information. Like so much information. Probably too much really, but that was the benefit of having both all the magic and all the tech.

This could be, and indeed was, all contemplated collaborated and corroborated in an instant. Absolute minimal bureaucracy in his brain.
Future Magic Russian type shit. Super helpful. Only way to get access to this level of magic and tech and also the process by which neoborhilliumium can be manticulated not once, not twice, but indeed thrice into the form of a Q-Bramble Blade, cheekily referred to by those in the know as a Q-BramBlade. It was a deep cut. One lost on you if you weren't in the know about Russian Magic Future type shit. Your loss. It's an oldie but a goodie. A Magic Future Oldie but a goodie.

Only way to have access to a fucken Zord too. Some real Saban type shit, but not like the Saban type shit from when they hit it big and had to just keep making shows and gradually watered their shit down and got all redundant and lame and shit. Like the early Saban type shit when they were just dubbing over some crazy ass weird ass foreign show and replacing all the weird talk with American type shit. That type Saban shit. Speaking of.

Quantemporaneously, and with much alacrity too, Dangerrutitio references his VocoRecordoerings and the data compiled by his Hexx-Texx Goggos. Now, granted, for some weebs Naruto running around with bandages on their feet and hands and little headbands and shit, pretending to be a Street Shark or some shit, this might take ages. If they could even read Future Russian Magic type guy man script. Which was doubtful. Putting it all together, figuring out where it intersects and what that means. But with the help of both magic and technology and bluntness Dangerrutito is able to permeate the membrane of it all and determine the most bestest position for a Z.O.R.D., that is a Zord Orbital Rapid Deployment, and drop it precisely where he wanted it.

Extrapolating, or maybe interpolating, some word like that. Maybe both them words. Extrainterpolating. Some word meaning like inside thinking and combining of factors into one clear simple answer. Whichever word that means basically that, but also has the most letters and syllables and preferably the most complicated pronunciation. That was what the Hexx-Texx Goggs were doing. VocoRecordoer was helping out too. Picking up even the slightest of sound waves. Words sure, but also often just the slight reverberations of foot-steps, rustling leaves, cracking ice. Between the two a great many things that a simple mortal might miss were picked up and catalogued and their ramifications considered. Handy shit. Like some sort of fusion between magic and technology, which is what Dangerrutito was. So that was fitting.

Where to drop the Zord and what to do. A simple question but one with voluminous possible answers and untold potential ramifications. It may turn the tide of the battle. It may accidentally land on Dangerrutito and bring him to a rather ignoble end. If he were doing it on pen and paper he might forget to carry the zero or get confused about precisely how Long Division worked or he might confuse Calculus and Trigonometry and end up manifesting Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu inside this lame ass planet, likely resulting in one manner of horrific disaster or another. Maybe even a dreaded Muonnic Conclipse. There was so much to consider.

Dangerrutito's partners for one. That is those dudes over there and there and there and also over there. They were the ones he was not supposed to kill. At least not until after these other randos were giblets. His orders hadn't said anything about not killing his partners after these pests were paste. Or maybe they had. He hadn't read them.

The opponents and their locations was another thing. Some of them were tricksy little buggers. Or at least tried to be. Their methods may well be effective on this world, with this level of magic and apparent pronounced derth of technology. Somewhat akin to the card sharks of Kyivistanoslov's slums. Playing three card monty or that Find The Ball in the Cup game. Parlor tricks. Slight of hand. Spiritually sourced though they may well be they were mere contrivances. Attempts to mask one's presence were admirable but Dangerrutito wasn't relying on his 20/20 vision to detect them.

That was where the aforementioned Hexx-Texx Goggolos came in. They were able to scan through a variety of different viewmodals searching out disturbances and fluctuations. One might have a normal reading and thus be detected, or no reading and thus be detected, or an altered reading and thus be detected, but there was little hope of just remaining perfectly unseen. Granted one might perhaps maybe figure out a way to evade detection of one mode or another. Specialization was a miraculous thing, but with the Goggles flicking from one mode to another continuously it was likely a losing battle. Particularly for a world so wrapped up in Chi or Qi or Ki. Same shit.

Upon tagging any target or object/entity of interest the systems would track that target and, with that target now solidified conceptually, take a particular interest in obtaining that target in another targeting system. Thusly using each data set to build upon one another and, potentially, not just identify a target in a targeting system they had previously been able to elude or confuse, but in doing so improve the capacity of that system. It was pretty fucking neat all in all.

It allowed Dangerrutito to take note of a random bandaged figure running out, seemingly thinking it was completely hidden despite quite simply not being hidden. It was quick, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic would give it that, but running across open ground to the lake was not a particularly stealthy move. Not hard to ping that. Didn't even need some umpteen vision modes to latch on to some guy Naruto running through an open field, and once the target was identified, well, it wasn't likely to be lost. Less likely with each passing second. Even when Naruto Runner sent out a few illusory clones, like a small child scattering coins in the hopes that the coins would confuse their parents and save them from a time out, the targeting remained. Sure, there were additional potential targets now, but that wasn't going to undo the acquisition of the original targeting. Naruto Runner wasn't obfuscating any thing any more than the smattering of local flora and fauna were. The attacks he once thought decisively deadly would flail harmlessly as the surprise aspect of his surprise attack was but an illusion, his delusion.

They, the Hexx-Texx Goggs that is, also allowed Dangerrutito to spy something he enjoyed looking at much more than Naruto Runner over there. Dangerrutito had made out a strange silhouette. A most seductive silhouette, which was a strange thing for a silhouette to be but fuck it a man likes what a man likes. A woman's silhouette. Let's get that out of the way right now. It had like...womanly aspects. For a shadow. Or a silhouette. Like boobs. And long hair. And the proper like hip to waist ratio and smaller shoulders. All that type stuff. That was all pretty cool stuff. Dangerrutito liked that kind of stuff. He liked it a lot. A lot more than dude shadow or silhouette type stuff. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

A silhouette, black edged with blue yet somehow a fire in the eyes. Now that didn't come up on the sensors. Not even the Muonn gauge. Dangerrutito could just tell that was there because of like things. Metaphorical type things. The way that they are. Shit like that. Anyway back to the silhouette, quite a karada on that one. Probably. Again, the figure was black edged with a blue silhouette so it was hard to tell but dollars to donuts probably a hard karada. Probably. This one didn't Naruto run, for which Dangerrutito was eternally grateful because that was just silly. This one danced. Dangerrutito did not know the dances but he knew he liked them. She brought her own dancing partners too, like the Naruto Runner dude, though these too were not particularly hard to discern between. As she danced his Goggos had plenty of time to scan her in several viewmodals and iterate again and again until the image developed, creating a rather profound separation between the actual figure and her backup dancers.

These would be the focus of his attacks. At least for now, and they would receive the attention they were due.

The Naruto Runner, Inabikari Muigetsu Totsuka, also known as Komaeda “Azashiro” Seishi, also also known as Keiji Maeda. Dangerrutito didn't know the Naruto Runner's name or that he had been named after a samurai from the long distant past and a corny ass anime character from the less long but still pretty long distant past, but he'd probably get a giggle out of it if he had.

The Dancing Silhouette, Akane Ryuusei, also known as Hard Karada (at least to Dangerrutito). Dangerrutito didn't know that was her name either. He'd have to ask later. Also for her number. And if she liked dogs or not. God he hoped she did.

And maybe that other guy too. Maybe he should focus on that dude because like what the fuck was up with him?

Some Shiny Dude, Yuske Tenyu “X-Star of Vehemente,” Dangerrutito didn't know that was his name either. Or what a X-Star was.

Some Shiny Dude had been hard to see. A distance off and in an elevated position, showing up much like The Dancing Silhouette, aka Hard Karada, initially Dangerrutito had scarcely been able to see him. Had only picked him up as his Goggles started detecting another presence and trying to zero in on it, but now his Goggos had gotten a bead on him and focused in, running through viewmodals, until he could appreciate the shiny crimson metally armor type shit the dude was wearing. Pretty legit. He'd just been standing there for like the longest time. Surveying shit like some kind of surveyor. Dude liked to watch. That was alright. Time to put on a show.

That was exactly what he did. Put on a show. But then also drop a Z.O.R.D. precisely where he wanted it. Just along the edge of the lake so the resultant wave would wash right over where The Naruto Runner was trying his best to be a sneaky snake.

Just as it had been for his arrival, the vantablack membrane of spacetime was penetrated, this time at high speed. Spacetime was gonna be sore in the morning. It was gonna be vantablack and blue. Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu had been launched by the Fontainiuxiciccix 4 at ludicrous speed and point blank into a really quite small spacetime rip, allowing it to maintain much of it's momentum and just really tearing the shit out of that poor spacetime continuum. It might have to take a break. It probably couldn't continuum.

Double entendres and dumbshittery aside, the violation of spacetime and massive amount of energy pumping into the world immediately began to wreak havoc on the biome. Small happy little birds singing small happy little bird songs and carrying twigs and their young and candies and cards and shit for their spouses died by the hundreds. Incinerated or bisected or just exploded by the sudden change in air pressure. Hundreds more immediately dropping dead from the sheer quantity of plasmatic radioactive waste that Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu was venting from his rearward waste vent, located on his ass. Never knowing what cruel fate awaited them, or that they would never see their little bird wives and babies and friends and shit again. Never getting an opportunity to tell them they loved them and cherished their memories together and nice type shit like that. Certainly any who survived were traumatized for life. Probably scarred too. PETA, if it existed on this planet, was gonna be pissed. Ozone Layer would probably never recover. This little temple area was basically Australia now but without the hot blondes with cool accents.

At the speed it was travelling Dangerrutito hardly had time to turn toward The Dancing Silhouette before Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu blasted into the surface just on the edge of the lake. Luckily he did, have time that is. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to enjoy one of those cool guy moments. He bet he looked just cool as shit.

A giant ZORD, Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu, landing cacophonously, instantaneously sublimating a large quantity of the lakes water, melting the rest, splashing a large quantity of the melted water out, and creating a huge wave originating opposite the temple and heading toward it. Toward The Naruto Runner and the temple beyond him. That was to say nothing of what it did to the Earth there. Sublimating a good chunk of that too. Taking solid earth and advancing it straight past smaller solids or liquids and straight into gas. Not even a thick gas. Not a fog or even really a mist. It was as though it had just never been there.

Think of all the little squirrels and raccoons and shit. Or the whatever alien type fauna that lived on this weird ass world. The cute ones. All suddenly rendered homeless. And probably dead. Yeah mostly dead. If you can sublimate earthen rock you can sublimate a cute little family of four squirrels sitting around their little squirrel dinner table discussing the latest goings on in squirrel culture. But now they were all dead. And what's more, since Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic Mooora Beeeegaruuuuuu was still venting radioactive plasmatic waste out his ass mounted waste distributor vent so they probably wouldn't be able to return any time soon. Just annihilating the ecosystem like it wasn't anything that mattered. Because well it kinda didn't. It was a fucking travesty. A tragedy. A war crime. Abhorrent. The act had been done and now, like a silent fart in a small room, though the rest of the planet may not immediately notice it in time its spread was inevitable and undeniable. Resistance is futile. War, War Never Changes. Nanu nanu. Etc. It was fucked up. But man did it ever look cool. All behind him too, like he was too cool to watch it. Fuck that looks cool.

"Fuck that probably looks cool," Dangerrutitio Fontainuxic thought as he unholstered his blaster, blew the gunsmoke (which wasn't there since he hadn't fired yet and also because blasters shot blast bolts and therefore did not produce gunsmoke) from it's barrel, and began a dance of his own. There wasn't much to it. It wasn't really a dance. He just kinda shrugged his shoulders a little, did a hip thrust and charged up a blast.

The Naruto Runner would have to contend with the massive wave heading his way, if he hadn't been killed by the initial impact. Or boiled by the immediate change in temperature. Or drowned. Or just had a heart attack when he realized he wasn't hidden. Anyway he had teammates. Like the one guy, or that other guy, or the guy with the thing, or uh. That one other guy that was also there. Dangerrutito's blaster blast was charging up for The Dancing Silhouette.

Surely that big bada boom had gotten her attention, but if it hadn't this would. Probably maybe. The blaster was one of his Rangery type tech deal things. It didn't have a long name and history, and none of his illegitimate children's eternal souls were trapped inside of it, or at least not that he knew of, but it was pretty nifty just the same. A Chekhov Model 7 Master Blaster. A real work of art.



The Dancing Silhouette, Akane Ryuusei, aka Hard Karada, aka The Future Mrs. Fontainuixic, and her backup dancers sped off to the side toward where that one duder with the guns and the bitchin' ass car was. Not just that. She was fast. She was really fast. He could track her, but only barely, the indicator for her position moving across his viewscreen fast enough that he had to turn his head and pivot to keep her lined up, couldn't even keep her in his sights. He was no marksman.

Bouncing from tree to tree, Dangerrutito knew just well enough to not try and shoot her on one side of the other, to not try to outshoot his read out but to control his breathing, steady his hand, and focus on the center point, the middle point her tracking indicator kept jumping across. If he had more time he might be able to charge the blast more. To scour her out straight away. Score one for the good guys. Or at least his team. For now. But her hand had begun to crackle with energy and he didn't need to check his read out to know that that was no good.

Focusing in, breathing slow, and pulling the trigger methodically he sent blaster bolts down range to that center point as her indicator bobbed across that point over and over. It wouldn't be enough to fry her. He'd been trying to charge up a big ass blast but she had thrown him off with that little mad dash she'd done. She would survive an uncharged blast bolt, all but certainly. This first blast would be charged up a little but not enough to kill. Probably. He hoped she didn't get hit with the first one anyway. That wouldn't be a good icebreaker. He'd have to make it up to her later either way. Dangerrutito Fontainiuxic wondered what kind of chocolate a Dancing Silhouette would like. Probably caramel. Maybe carmel.

Senko was inspired, her protective aura reinforcing itself for the third time - completing its construction. Howbeit, even if it had not - the shots would have shattered helplessly against her stalwart life force. Barriered. Hexagonal, dense and yet, skin-tight and translucent giving opal streaks and radiance when viewed through unnatural means. Furthermore, she continued to direct powerful currents of chi through her bloodline. Her eyes alight with a fury they hadn’t known in sometime. The heat in the forest increased in response. A sign of accelerated chi signatures in the area. Wholly so. This type of conflict was her bread and butter. Her favorite rhythm, her most addictive vice. It resonated in her irises and breathed through the chi that comprised her so wholly. Everything about her had been tailored to war. And while this was a far cry beyond continental or even country-based warfare. It was a nice change of pace. She could feel the forest thundering on drill time. Her invaders were ignorant. Everything had Chi and it was that presence that flourished a Ryuusei's own abilities. It was not that their chi was one with everything around them, rather it was connected similar to a goddess to her acolytes. She could feel, hear, sense through that mysticism. As a result, not a single intruder, on grounds that had none before their simultaneous arrival, was veiled in any manner. She could, and by proxy her son and sister could, see them clearly. There is no stealth in invading private land.

The first to receive her attention was - all of them. Her wind blades had come and their reactions to such a simple display of her elemental prowess could be described as…. Deranged. The screech had garnered all of their attention and like puppets en masse, they danced to tune they made real. She wondered if they had their wits about them or if they had, all together, somehow stumbled upon this jungle just to forfeit their pathetic lives. As they conspired with the wind and it, conspired in response. Reyes had attempted to interrupt her, but his bullets hit air. His movements telegraphed and evaded in her monumental stride and clasp that went undisturbed. This was combat, the moment so much as an angle changed in variables, she was in motion. Things happened a bit quicker, however, since she had to adjust.

Moreover, the person who truly gave way to Senko’s movements was none other than the humanoid mech. His reaction prompted her in true motion as she raced to meet him. Death galloped behind her. The wind blade erupted amidst the propelling adjustments made by boosters. Senko did not doubt the hunter’s speed, she doubted its reach. Its detonation sent a flurry of blades whirling through the forest that descended on her opponents like carnivorous rain. Hayden would find himself eclipsed in this detonation that could not have been more than the radius of a hand grenade. Limbs would hit the forest floor in rapid succession. Bodies severed. Trees cut down with ease, it would have cut through any metal through the charge and construction of its mysticsm.

More so, the shadows of these detonations were merely colored emanations of her Chi. A once harmless trained echo of her elemental control, honed into a deadly aftershadow. It was everything, however that was her chi that began to translate her slashes, mimicking its devastation. And they all might have felt it. Especially, if they heard it. And lord help sensory organ or devices that picked it up visually. The ringing of slashes as if she had drawn a sword and cut them all down simultaneously. these deadly elemental scythes and the force of the explosion, as well as the sound of it, even the blanket of temperature concentrated on their area. And that of which propagated this - carried forth her sharp will.

Psychic energy was just that psychic energy, the very same logic applied to the mad man attempting to outrun something that was not there. Her senses saw him because he was in the forest, it had not been spreading. Less like a radar scan and more like induced sixth sense given visual stimuli by a mystical connection. A mystical connection that comes from consent of the world around her. As such, lord, Mosi was running from absolutely nothing and wasting precious time to save his teammates. His leaf shaped blade was incapable of breaching dimensions as he would need to find an alternate universe chi-user whose sensory technique worked how he implied in order for the speat to do anything. Just the same, it was incapable of disturbing the planet. It may have, however, done something to the ground in front of him but Senko was not sure. Weary of madmen.

Reyes, however, would find solace in a swift release. For he had sought to poison the well of earth around him but found the energy he dispersed canceled by an opposing detonation revered from one of the many defenders to the overarching sensory means the shiryoku utilized. This was not because he had struck the source of their powers, that was not Earth. It was because they were saturated in this forest. The defender would go silent forcing Reyes to try his hand again or give up. Akane also reinforced this, as Dark Chi greeted him as well. He suffered a multi-directional attack to the very center of his existence due to the means he used to do the initial attack. That seemingly did not matter, as he rolled anyway - but his movements were delayed to her. The explosion would have sent blades in every direction and with no concern with the pending shadows or the extension of her attack through every medium of both blade and explosion, the chances of him being in pieces before his roll could finish was high.

Dangerrutito was perhaps the only one who had the hardest time, who could have been very well sliced to pieces. Perhaps, he had been like his other teammate expecting something to crash out of the sky and save him, but that was not how these things went. Death followed swiftly. What had been a subtle jab bloomed into a devastating blow to the enemy side. Most of them had been focused on a ghost, a thing of the past that drew their attention like moths to flame but they had accounted for this - somehow. Senko was fluid.

If Hael had managed to survive the abrupt onslaught, he would be met by a straight jab. It was a simple attack but images of her flooded at its beginning, encircling them, mirroring her. Rebounding forces maintained by the Chi around her. As Akane’s speed mirages were more tangible, Senko’s were burning expressions of chi. Similar to the blast, every portion of their construction was her chi. The jab was just that a jab, but Senko was always taught to strike through her opponents - never at them. The Ryuzhang marital art a second nature, contact would not only disperse a surreal amount of chi enhanced strength into the centermass of Hael. It would also carry forth an unnatural density, one uncontained by this realm and solely maintained by the defensive nature of it. As if ramming forth with meta-lead. Afterwards and during, the kinetic disturbance from her and produced by her unmtained by him would become volatile, miniature shockwaves that carried forth absolutely devastating force. All centered in and homed in to blow a massive hole through his body. Even so, her stance was loose - as if it were just a feint and with the rush of combat around her. It may have been hard to tell.

Her family, her brothers were upon them like ravenous wolves, bounding through the forest and ensnaring them at every turn. Senko watched it all unfold.