@EstylwenFor the briefest of moments, Reina could see through the tears that other humans -mages, no doubt- were "down there" upon the unveiled streets of the Dark City, but just as soon as they had stepped into view so many yards away, they disappeared out of view again. Cygni and Erina too, seemed to notice the passerbys, but the sway of their emotions that Reina yet sensed indicated to her that they felt little beyond a fleeting curiosity.
"Understood," Cygni replied to Reina. Erina offered only an accompanying nod. The two continued to follow their head through Yusei's domain, approaching then at a brisker pace to the throne of their god. Beneath the crossing of two tilted skyscrapers a triangular opening invited the three into pitch darkness. It was here that the garden of Yusei's presence made itself most readily apparent. From the cracks and crushed concrete of the Labyrinth sprouted a grove of spider-lily flowers, eternally bloomed.
It was grey. And greyer. It progressed.
Erina bolted to one of the flowers and crouched beside it to inspect. Grey as it was, there was the barest hint of red in its leaves, but the color visibly melted away slowly, painfully. Even for those unchosen by the deity, the phenomenon was easily comprehended.
"As you feared," Cygni said plainly, eyes cast down upon a patch of lilies nearby, "We shall return for reinforcements. Yusei is in your hands." Cygni said nothing more and retreated with Erina at his side back the way they came. Cygni cast a glance over his shoulder upon Reina -one last look, more dire than his usual collected self. Even though she had demanded their attendance, she nevertheless found herself faced with this all alone.
The shadows of Yusei's throne lay before her. Within was a hall of ancient red stone, utterly anachronistic to the dilapidated but no less modern apocalypse of modernity storming outside. Her god yet breathed, but time seemed short. Venturing within, Reina could take nary one step into the black before a half-encouraging, half-disappointing presence made itself known. From the edge of the shadowed shelter extended tall forms which hugged the ground. Shadows cast from no light stretched on either side of Reina -one form of Yusei's guardians.
"Chosen. Uncalled," one shadow whispered.
"Master. Recovering," the other said.
"Begone," they said in unison.
----------------------
"Erina," Cygni spoke as he stopped in his tracks. The two had parted from Reina mere minutes ago, but now out of sight and earshot, Cygni paused their return to secure reinforcements, and turned fully to the young woman.
"Confident as Reina may be, and blessed by Yusei as she is, you and I both know that these events are beyond anything yet experienced. If Yusei should truly be grievously injured or indeed dead, then Reina's confidence would be the least outmatched aspect of her. I cannot in good conscience leave her unguarded."
Erina faced Cygni with crossed arms and scoffed. "Ha! You truly think I don't know your play here? If I'm the only one to return, and something happens to Reina, then I'm equally culpable. Regardless of who says or cares about what at the council, that still puts a great deal of bad faith upon my character. You don't think that knowing I'm willing to let you go would make even
you reconsider my character later on? Don't make me laugh. You're coming back with me. We're both seeing to it that this mess doesn't explode in our faces," Erina said. Cygni returned her rant with typical flatness.
"I think you lack imagination," Cygni said, eyes lidded and unamused. Erina turned and continued on.
"And I think you lack some foresight," she retorted.
The battle, if at all it could be called such, lasted only a half minute.
@ERodeVaulted ceilings and ribbed walls enclosed Amiya in near-darkness. An eerie glow of red suffused the very air, shining by the light of unseen sources. There was a few faint sensation that, though this place was dangerous and offensive to mortal-kind, it grew increasingly 'emptier' and devoid of looming threat with each passing moment. She knew not where in the Labyrinth she was, as was to be expected. Mages rarely found the same place twice if exploring randomly. The quietness and darkness was a common feature, to be sure, but a Dungeon was much more than its looks and Amaya sensed an intrinsic difference there that went beyond -a uniqueness that represented the nature of magical discovery well. Though a spell did not suddenly manifest within her mind, she felt as though such inspiration lay just around the corner here. "It" was dense.
There were two ways to go within the hall; three, if one counted retreat back into the rift she had just exited as an option. Instinct guided her down only one, tugged by the emanation of a heavier presence deeper within. Halls made into atriums, into more halls, into stairwells, into halls again. As she drew nearer, the presence grew stronger. Stronger? No... more 'understood'. It grew not stronger, but weaker, and yet nevertheless more easily hunted-down. Amaya felt as though a predator becoming accustomed to the scent of her wounded prey who legs were steadily giving out. Was she truly chasing something, and it was running?
The hundredth hall she strode through opened up into a circular room. The red glow of the Dungeon had dissipated, replaced then by the confined spotlight of a hole in the room's ceiling. In the center was a short mound of earth, upon which lay a shrouded figure. Thin, tousled cloth wrapped around an emaciated humanoid form that lay on its side. A soft red color was vaguely visible from beneath the translucent but multiply-layered wrapping, giving the impression of a bloodied corpse tied up by plastic. Wisps of the fabric drifted quietly in the non-existent breeze, shredded and still fraying moment by moment. Movement within the mummy suggested breathing, but Amaya knew this thing needed no air. What she was witnessing was emulating an act of dying, whatever it was.
"Ah... at last. Reprieve."
Amaya's ears made out a gurgling, pained sound. The mummy shifted almost imperceptibly. It could do naught but wiggle slightly upon the ground.
@OwOThe snake-eyed woman nodded sagely, a hand to her mouth as she watched Macaron showcase a semblance of magical ability. Contained as the magic was, she seemed content with knowing that Macaron could slice even her own toughened form.
"Walk with me, I'll explain," she said, already moving on. Everywhere on the streets of the Dark City was as nondescript as they come, and so wherever it was that she intended on leading Macaron, it was impossible to discern. It was only within the walls of the silent buildings that more unique and interesting locales made themselves known, even if many of them didn't remain in existence indefinitely.
"You ever wonder how it was that you survived that night years ago?" she asked suddenly before pausing. She clicked her tongue at nothing in particular, and added, "You're gonna have to ignore how I know about this for now. Just know that I do." The woman slipped her hands into jean pockets and kept forward with an agitated, leaning posture. She continued,
"Only the ones that happened to be out and about, too far. You would think that, right? No one ever thought to do some blood testing. The ones that were present too -underlings, nobodies. All alive. All sharing one common thing: they ain't Kataoka by a blood measure. Except... you. Why do you think that is? You really thought a little kid could hide from that... thing, didn't you?" The woman groaned, stretched her back, and looked to the empty sky as she walked.
"Let me know if this is all a bit much. But... you know, don't also be a pansy. Wait, do you hear that?" The woman lowered her lax stance and broke into a jog towards another row of buildings. Faintly at first -and then with better focus- Macaron made out the sounds of gunfire and heavy impacts. It echoed through the starless skies, but she could pinpoint it just as well as her werewolf friend.
"Keep up, we might be too late already!" she called out.
It didn't take long to intercept the source.
@Kronshi"Describing my methods is like detailing an encyclopedia," the woman said sharply. She lifted her right arm and pulled back the sleeve of her raincoat, revealing the arcane crest which wrapped around her forearm. Without a deeper scrutiny, the shape of it meant nothing, but the gesture was there. "Mine is one of Dynamicism. And I know yours is of Complexity. A difficult pair to make work. I'm also not quite yet about to reveal my style," she said with a tinge of enmity.
She seemed surprised by his suggestion, even behind the gas mask, her body shifting back. "Are you certain? Or... have you attempted this before?" she asked, "Given the night, I would be cautious of attempting anything unusual. I've no experience in the matter, but I can certainly hazard that opening a Dungeon in the Dark City is not something to be done lightly. I surmise you may be inviting an imprisonment within, however long. But... I'll keep watch."
As Ozymandias settled down to open the Dungeon, he was immediately struck by the sensation that this was not going to be easy, nor was it going to be quite like the door he had opened moments ago either. Within the Dark City, a manifestation of the Labyrinth taking on the form of the collective unconscious, everything was guided by the thoughts and feelings of even the mundane. Linking the Labyrinth itself -as a Dungeon- into this realm was like trying to neatly add amendments to a page already filled top to bottom by lines of law. In addition, as he persisted, there came the blunt force of "something", and he conceptualized the idea of a strand suddenly catching hold of him and tugging with a jolt.
The prospect of opening the Dungeon seemed more and more distant the more he tried. It was not a matter of difficulty, but a matter of 'distance'. The Dungeon he envisioned soared away onto the horizon, ever out of reach no matter the speed with which he himself flew. And then, a wave...
@Remram @Kronshi @OwOMathias was certain that his volley cracked into the 'bulk' of the manifestation, but even with the ammunition that had served him well so many other times against mere ghosts, the entity shrugged it off as if the very void of space. Even with something intangible, however, there was the potential to refit it into a more solid form -he just needed to 'grasp' it. Easier said than done.
Rafael affirmed Mathias's order, and kept in lock step with Emma as the two dove and retaliated against the incorporeal opponent. Just as fruitlessly as Mathias, however, their attacks seemed to do little more. Brief flashes of magic signaled the team as to Dirk's 'location', and given the shifting location it seemed as though even his diminished presence was still under threat by the phantom.
"Nothing's working!" Bel shouted out between a din of machinegun fire, "Can you solidify it yet, Mathias?"
Before a reply could even be made, there came a groaning to the air and a twisting to the gut. Amidst a flyby of another strike by the manifestation, the Dark City around them shuddered and rent as rapidly multiplying tears ripped stone and sky. Cracks wove between them, crawling across emptiness and street alike, linking together as a growing web of unreality.
Elsewhere, the tug which had bugged at Ozymandias's mind suddenly became a wrenching, and his body and mind were spirited along a conveyor of maddening images. He briefly caught sight of the woman who accompanied him similarly tumbling through frantic reality. All at once, a new location slammed upon his senses like a brick wall, and he found himself tossed onto rubble-strewn pavement. His gas-mask friend coughed and hacked next to him, afflicted not by dust or gas but by the rough experience that had just assaulted them in mind, body, and soul.
A team of militarily-kitted humans surrounded him -no, not quite. It seemed moreso that
he was the surprise, unceremoniously dumped into their presence unannounced. Mathias and his team were plagued not merely by a manifestation then, but by two unexpected mages. The party was only to grow, however.
Had the surrounding buildings always been this stilted? The gray features and yellow eyes of the Dark City had twisted and bent into one another. They clipped each other in unnatural, non-euclidean ways, and in many spaces formed uninviting holes leading on into darkness. From one such tunnel stepped forth a pair of young women, arriving on the scene by means of eldritch path.
Macaron and her compatriot found themselves faced with a colorful array of fellow mages, each one just as surprised by one another's presences as they themselves. Their confused gathering was spared no more moment to adjust before a low growl redirected any concerns elsewhere. Perched high upon the twisting towers surrounding them was Mathias's original dilemma. A bestial form, always half-unseen, clung to the walls as if weightless. What could be seen of it rippled across the surface of its black-furred body, and occasionally revealed a savage maw of teeth and triplet eyes. Whatever had just occurred to twist their battlefield so, it seemed not-wholly intangible then. It's shifting visibility still posed a problem nonetheless.
It dove upon the streets with a crash, and bristled its haunches. A wave of realness washed over its many eyes, and revealed their training upon every party.
None were spared.
