CLANG
An earth-shattering collision resounded as the swordsman executed the smoothest quick draw Vern had ever seen. The spinning spiral of radiant light seemed to bend, drawn to the edge of the swordsman's blade, altering its course to collide directly.
This must be his vision, right? Deflecting light isn't physically possible. That seemed like the only reasonable explanation.
Yet, Vern's job remained unchanged. The spiral drilled towards them, whirling with terrifying momentum. A single deflection wouldn't suffice against a continuous stream of light like this one that was poised to obliterate everything in its path.
Vern watched the spiral intently, aware that even a stray fragment from it could devastate the entire station.
CLANG!
RING!
Metal clashed upon metal as the swordsman sliced the energy into segments, flinging them aside where they dissipated quickly. All the while, he laughed, "Hahhahaha, my friend. You had me waiting eagerly for...this? I expected more. I know you have more. Show me what you've got! Unleash the sins your Asea so desired. Reveal your true strength!"
A thundering voice retorted, "KEEP HER NAME OFF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
And as if reacting to the swordsman's provocation, the lighting arrangement changed. A single giant spiral multiplied—first to five, then ten, and finally, an overwhelming barrage of a hundred spirals spun menacingly above.
"Ughh," Vern groaned under his breath. Madness seemed to be a common trait among everyone fighting in here.
He wanted to scold the swordsman for his reckless taunts as the weaker party, yet he couldn't deny the strategy's cunning. Forcing an enemy to play their hand prematurely was indeed clever. Handling this barrage would have been impossible if it had appeared when the massive spiral was closer to the station.
With a smirk, the swordsman moved with the speed of lightning, darting through the barrage and reflecting spirals into the void. He leaped from the cloth platform, defying gravity to stand at another similar platform suspended in midair —an odd yet seamless maneuver that helped him clear the spirals.
However, Vern, observing with a mix of awe and anxiety, knew it wouldn't be enough. The swordsman's speed was unmatched, but the spirals were relentless and far too numerous.
He observed the spectacle with bated breath, and it didn't take long before his fears materialized. A cluster of dozen or so spirals advanced together, heading straight for one of the whistles atop the station.
The swordsman intercepted them just in time, deflecting nine before he had to pivot to the next wave, allowing three to slip through his guard, lest it cause relatively more damage.
A white gleam sparked in Vern's eyes as he braced himself. Leaning against a pillar, he exuded calm, a stark contrast to his racing mind. Now's the time.
He couldn't see most of the upper floor clearly because his only window to the outer world was this gigantic hole that ran through all the floors of the station. To preserve the building's integrity, he had to extend his perception to its entirety.
His perception that was now observing the balance of Stability only assigned grays to the world in his line of sight. Anything beyond that, he only had one option—interpret it manually.
He recalled the upper floor's layout—the rooms, the piping network, the roofs, the pillars, and its structure in general. For their stability, he guessed at their current condition, inferring it by drawing parallels between similar structures down here.
He assigned darker shades of gray to the rooms and pillars that should be on the verge of collapse and lighter shades to those unharmed. And surprisingly, his perception was like a sponge that absorbed his ideas liberally, even assisting him in the process.
He was hoping this mental map of grays, even if just an estimation of reality right now, would update and reflect the effect those radiant whorls would have on the whole structure. That way he would have a far easier time reacting to the changes in the situation.
This whole process seemed like something he could have set up beforehand, but this increased range came with a cost he didn’t want to pay unless necessary. Who knew how long this fight would take?
He could feel the intensity of his thoughts within the Thought Space wane. It was a gradual drain right now, but he knew it would accumulate, possibly leading to his usual affliction—bleeding from the eyes.
He didn't want that.
BOOM
And here it comes. One of the spirals drilled through the roof of the station, and from its trajectory, it was evident that it would hit one of the pillars in the hall upstairs, causing massive damage. The other two would be crashing through mostly unimportant sections of the building.
Vern had resigned himself to the sacrifice of the roof and other non-essential structures. They were expendable. His focus had to be the fulcrums—the true supports of the station. With this in mind, he concentrated on the imperiled pillar, currently represented by a silver-gray shade in his mind, indicating its stability.
KRRRRR
The spirals pierced the roof effortlessly, their lengths diminishing as they penetrated deeper. Vern braced for the imminent change in the pillar's condition.
The moment the tip of the spiral touched the pillar, a dark aura spread around the point of impact, which soon turned into a sickening darkness. If left unchecked, it would break and shatter the whole thing in a second.
Narrowing his eyes, he whispered, "Stability Inducement."
For the first time, he understood what happened under the hood when his mind raced through ideas on the execution of a Vision. A particular thought in his Thought Space ignited, followed by another, then hundreds more, a chain reaction like lightning streaking through a nocturnal cityscape.
In his perception, however, the darkness that spread on the surface of the pillar-like some plague, retreated—replaced by a healthy white grow. Though, it didn't last long.
Because this was a continuous battle. He would have to defend against the spiral until it expended all its fuel. So, a path of lightning shone in his Thought Space, repeatedly activating all those thought nodes that could induce stability in a pillar.
WHIRRRR
The once fierce golden drill faded as its energy was consumed fruitlessly.
KRR
As the spiral's energy was finally depleted, Vern exhaled and allowed himself a moment of respite. The pillar stood mostly whole, save for a small section that had been eroded too swiftly for his power to restore.
But by all means, this was a win in his books.
"Hahhaha, my sinner friend, what's this? You can't breach the defenses of a literal child?" the swordsman taunted while effortlessly nullifying another spiral.
"You've yet to leave a mark on me, heathen. Your only skill is cowering, like a turtle in its shell. We'll see who has the last laugh," he retorted.
Amidst their caustic exchange, Ambrose added fuel to the fire with a taunt of his own, "Hahaha, mad because bad, eh? Sweet religious fool."
Vern pressed a hand to his forehead, fighting the urge to demand silence from both belligerents. Taunting the enemy seemed pointless—any psychological edge gained was not worth the risk of provoking a reckless and potentially devastating response. Fortunately, the enemy appeared preoccupied with the spirals, or they would have seized the opportunity for a deadly counterattack.
Tuning out the unhelpful jibes of his allies, Vern focused on the spirals' trajectories, relieved that the next wave was still some distance away. This gave him a moment to evaluate the damage caused by the other drills.
One had already punctured the basement roof and was now gouging the earth below—no mystery there. And, as he had hoped, even the areas outside his line of sight shifted in response to external forces turning grayer where there was more damage.
He checked the stability of the mail storage room's cabinets—they were a mess, but none of it compromised the structural fulcrums. To confirm, he visualized the fulcrums yet again.
This time, the upper floor was also included, and once he confirmed the tension points were unaffected, he swiftly dismissed the unnecessary visual aids.
The third spiral had unexpectedly met its end against a container of Cranksteel. Unsurprising, Vern thought, nothing gets through Cranksteel—not without a hell of a fight.
Nevertheless, this was great. This small victory quelled some of his day-long insecurities and guilt. His new Vision had proven itself, and though they weren't out of danger yet, he'd contributed to their survival.
It helped him assuage some of that built-up regret and gain some much-needed confidence. He didn't understand how everyone managed to survive the initial onslaught, but they had, and that's all that mattered right now.
Just then, the swordsman missed a pair of spirals, calling out, "Heads up, buddy! I'm passing these to you—no free meals on our watch, eh?"
Vern didn't respond. He wasn't going to participate in the taunting of their enemy, though he did appreciate the humor. It went a long way in calming him down.
The first will strike the arch, which could collapse the entire room if destroyed. The second... it won't impact anything above but will shatter the basement's retaining wall.
Standing taller, Vern drew a deep breath and prepared himself for the simultaneous onslaught. The archway was struck first, the darkness of instability spreading like spiderwebs, threatening collapse. But a single pulse of his Stability Inducement denied any such events from coming to pass.
Luckily, he just had to use the Vision in bursts, not continuously, or he would have faced immense trouble stabilizing multiple impact points.
However, something changed when the other spiral penetrated the basement roof. It shifted its course—heading straight for Vern. He's controlling them, he realized.
While repeatedly inducing stability in the archway upstairs, he dodged the divine attack with a wide leap—the spiral unable to change its course in time.
However, before he could revel in his own deftness, he noticed its trajectory. It didn't need to change its course, he thought as his heart sunk at the realization, Esther is the true target.
"Fuck!" He cursed out aloud and ran towards her with all his might. He knew it would be futile. Regardless, he didn't stop. He might be able to get her out of there alive, even if it meant a lost hand or a foot for her.
But that's when a mirthful bellow added itself to the mix from Vern's left, "Not so fast, you old fuck," yelled Ambrose with a hearty chuckle, whizzing past Vern in a blue flash, halting right in front of Esther.
There, he tapped his cane on the ground, which led to the emergence of subtle waves even in Vern's Stability sight. But that was just a side effect. As if utterly disrupted, the vigorously spinning spiral rushing towards Esther lost all its momentum and dissipated into nothingness.
Vern nodded solemnly at Ambrose and went back to ensuring that the other drill didn't play any tricks on them. He was delighted Ambrose jumped back in to help them, though he was still irked by their unnecessary taunting.
Fortunately, that gigantic singular spiral hadn't been under the radiant man's direct control, or it would have been a disaster. Or maybe the limitation was different in nature. Maybe it was even possible that he could only control a few at a time, and the rest had to be left to their own devices.
However, Vern soon found his assumptions challenged. Their enemy was adapting to the swordsman's tactic, and all the spirals moved closer to each other. Just enough so that the swordsman couldn't handle them with a single deflect, but it made his job relatively harder.
So, their foe could indeed move them, but there had to be limitations, or the first spiral wouldn't have stupidly continued drilling an impossible pillar.
However, he had a bigger problem than that right now. The swordsman tried his best, moving so fast it made it seem like he was disappearing and appearing at other spirals up in the sky. But there were too many this time.
Five of the spirals managed to sneak past the swordsman, and he chortled, "Get them, boys. I trust you," and moved on to another cluster. Vern didn't understand where the swordsman's confidence in them came from, but he had no intentions of failing anyway.
"By that, he meant you. I still have a rat to deal with. He's too fucking slippery if you ask me." Ambrose left these words in the air as he dashed back to where he'd come from.
Vern grunted and focused on the incoming barrage. It was going to be tough to stabilize five spots all at once, even when the spirals weren't actively finding targets. Now that there was a chance they could move? He would have to hope that he was better at adapting to changes than their foe in the air.
One was going to barrel through one end of the station out the other, but it would hit multiple beams in the process. He would have to stop this one no matter what.
Two were gunning for the odd edges of some random rooms. Fourth seemed like it wouldn't hit anything critical.
The last one, however, was primed to drill a hole in the engine room. That one was too risky to not be nullified pre-emptively. A little bit of friction on some odd chemicals could lead to a massive explosion in no time. Yeah, I will have to hold that one down on an earlier wall.
Just as Vern prepared to act, an anomaly in his perception caught his attention. It was very minor, even negligible—two ripples of a slightly darker shade in an otherwise uniform silver-gray patch of the floor above him. But he wouldn't have noticed it if that's all it was.
That pair of ripples…moved. Every moment that passed, they inched forward, almost as if step-by-step—heading straight towards Vern. There was no sound or any other clue, but he was more than sure his perception wasn't deceiving him.
A sharp glint appeared in his eyes as he arrived at the only logical conclusion, Someone's trying to sneak up on me.
They like to surprise people, eh? Vern thought, hope they like getting surprised, too.
CLANG
An earth-shattering collision resounded as the swordsman executed the smoothest quick draw Vern had ever seen. The spinning spiral of radiant light seemed to bend, drawn to the edge of the swordsman's blade, altering its course to collide directly.
This must be his vision, right? Deflecting light isn't physically possible. That seemed like the only reasonable explanation.
Yet, Vern's job remained unchanged. The spiral drilled towards them, whirling with terrifying momentum. A single deflection wouldn't suffice against a continuous stream of light like this one that was poised to obliterate everything in its path.
Vern watched the spiral intently, aware that even a stray fragment from it could devastate the entire station.
CLANG!
RING!
Metal clashed upon metal as the swordsman sliced the energy into segments, flinging them aside where they dissipated quickly. All the while, he laughed, "Hahhahaha, my friend. You had me waiting eagerly for...this? I expected more. I know you have more. Show me what you've got! Unleash the sins your Asea so desired. Reveal your true strength!"
A thundering voice retorted, "KEEP HER NAME OFF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"
And as if reacting to the swordsman's provocation, the lighting arrangement changed. A single giant spiral multiplied—first to five, then ten, and finally, an overwhelming barrage of a hundred spirals spun menacingly above.
"Ughh," Vern groaned under his breath. Madness seemed to be a common trait among everyone fighting in here.
He wanted to scold the swordsman for his reckless taunts as the weaker party, yet he couldn't deny the strategy's cunning. Forcing an enemy to play their hand prematurely was indeed clever. Handling this barrage would have been impossible if it had appeared when the massive spiral was closer to the station.
With a smirk, the swordsman moved with the speed of lightning, darting through the barrage and reflecting spirals into the void. He leaped from the cloth platform, defying gravity to stand at another similar platform suspended in midair —an odd yet seamless maneuver that helped him clear the spirals.
However, Vern, observing with a mix of awe and anxiety, knew it wouldn't be enough. The swordsman's speed was unmatched, but the spirals were relentless and far too numerous.
He observed the spectacle with bated breath, and it didn't take long before his fears materialized. A cluster of dozen or so spirals advanced together, heading straight for one of the whistles atop the station.
The swordsman intercepted them just in time, deflecting nine before he had to pivot to the next wave, allowing three to slip through his guard, lest it cause relatively more damage.
A white gleam sparked in Vern's eyes as he braced himself. Leaning against a pillar, he exuded calm, a stark contrast to his racing mind. Now's the time.
He couldn't see most of the upper floor clearly because his only window to the outer world was this gigantic hole that ran through all the floors of the station. To preserve the building's integrity, he had to extend his perception to its entirety.
His perception that was now observing the balance of Stability only assigned grays to the world in his line of sight. Anything beyond that, he only had one option—interpret it manually.
He recalled the upper floor's layout—the rooms, the piping network, the roofs, the pillars, and its structure in general. For their stability, he guessed at their current condition, inferring it by drawing parallels between similar structures down here.
He assigned darker shades of gray to the rooms and pillars that should be on the verge of collapse and lighter shades to those unharmed. And surprisingly, his perception was like a sponge that absorbed his ideas liberally, even assisting him in the process.
He was hoping this mental map of grays, even if just an estimation of reality right now, would update and reflect the effect those radiant whorls would have on the whole structure. That way he would have a far easier time reacting to the changes in the situation.
This whole process seemed like something he could have set up beforehand, but this increased range came with a cost he didn’t want to pay unless necessary. Who knew how long this fight would take?
He could feel the intensity of his thoughts within the Thought Space wane. It was a gradual drain right now, but he knew it would accumulate, possibly leading to his usual affliction—bleeding from the eyes.
He didn't want that.
BOOM
And here it comes. One of the spirals drilled through the roof of the station, and from its trajectory, it was evident that it would hit one of the pillars in the hall upstairs, causing massive damage. The other two would be crashing through mostly unimportant sections of the building.
Vern had resigned himself to the sacrifice of the roof and other non-essential structures. They were expendable. His focus had to be the fulcrums—the true supports of the station. With this in mind, he concentrated on the imperiled pillar, currently represented by a silver-gray shade in his mind, indicating its stability.
KRRRRR
The spirals pierced the roof effortlessly, their lengths diminishing as they penetrated deeper. Vern braced for the imminent change in the pillar's condition.
The moment the tip of the spiral touched the pillar, a dark aura spread around the point of impact, which soon turned into a sickening darkness. If left unchecked, it would break and shatter the whole thing in a second.
Narrowing his eyes, he whispered, "Stability Inducement."
For the first time, he understood what happened under the hood when his mind raced through ideas on the execution of a Vision. A particular thought in his Thought Space ignited, followed by another, then hundreds more, a chain reaction like lightning streaking through a nocturnal cityscape.
In his perception, however, the darkness that spread on the surface of the pillar-like some plague, retreated—replaced by a healthy white grow. Though, it didn't last long.
Because this was a continuous battle. He would have to defend against the spiral until it expended all its fuel. So, a path of lightning shone in his Thought Space, repeatedly activating all those thought nodes that could induce stability in a pillar.
WHIRRRR
The once fierce golden drill faded as its energy was consumed fruitlessly.
KRR
As the spiral's energy was finally depleted, Vern exhaled and allowed himself a moment of respite. The pillar stood mostly whole, save for a small section that had been eroded too swiftly for his power to restore.
But by all means, this was a win in his books.
"Hahhaha, my sinner friend, what's this? You can't breach the defenses of a literal child?" the swordsman taunted while effortlessly nullifying another spiral.
"You've yet to leave a mark on me, heathen. Your only skill is cowering, like a turtle in its shell. We'll see who has the last laugh," he retorted.
Amidst their caustic exchange, Ambrose added fuel to the fire with a taunt of his own, "Hahaha, mad because bad, eh? Sweet religious fool."
Vern pressed a hand to his forehead, fighting the urge to demand silence from both belligerents. Taunting the enemy seemed pointless—any psychological edge gained was not worth the risk of provoking a reckless and potentially devastating response. Fortunately, the enemy appeared preoccupied with the spirals, or they would have seized the opportunity for a deadly counterattack.
Tuning out the unhelpful jibes of his allies, Vern focused on the spirals' trajectories, relieved that the next wave was still some distance away. This gave him a moment to evaluate the damage caused by the other drills.
One had already punctured the basement roof and was now gouging the earth below—no mystery there. And, as he had hoped, even the areas outside his line of sight shifted in response to external forces turning grayer where there was more damage.
He checked the stability of the mail storage room's cabinets—they were a mess, but none of it compromised the structural fulcrums. To confirm, he visualized the fulcrums yet again.
This time, the upper floor was also included, and once he confirmed the tension points were unaffected, he swiftly dismissed the unnecessary visual aids.
The third spiral had unexpectedly met its end against a container of Cranksteel. Unsurprising, Vern thought, nothing gets through Cranksteel—not without a hell of a fight.
Nevertheless, this was great. This small victory quelled some of his day-long insecurities and guilt. His new Vision had proven itself, and though they weren't out of danger yet, he'd contributed to their survival.
It helped him assuage some of that built-up regret and gain some much-needed confidence. He didn't understand how everyone managed to survive the initial onslaught, but they had, and that's all that mattered right now.
Just then, the swordsman missed a pair of spirals, calling out, "Heads up, buddy! I'm passing these to you—no free meals on our watch, eh?"
Vern didn't respond. He wasn't going to participate in the taunting of their enemy, though he did appreciate the humor. It went a long way in calming him down.
The first will strike the arch, which could collapse the entire room if destroyed. The second... it won't impact anything above but will shatter the basement's retaining wall.
Standing taller, Vern drew a deep breath and prepared himself for the simultaneous onslaught. The archway was struck first, the darkness of instability spreading like spiderwebs, threatening collapse. But a single pulse of his Stability Inducement denied any such events from coming to pass.
Luckily, he just had to use the Vision in bursts, not continuously, or he would have faced immense trouble stabilizing multiple impact points.
However, something changed when the other spiral penetrated the basement roof. It shifted its course—heading straight for Vern. He's controlling them, he realized.
While repeatedly inducing stability in the archway upstairs, he dodged the divine attack with a wide leap—the spiral unable to change its course in time.
However, before he could revel in his own deftness, he noticed its trajectory. It didn't need to change its course, he thought as his heart sunk at the realization, Esther is the true target.
"Fuck!" He cursed out aloud and ran towards her with all his might. He knew it would be futile. Regardless, he didn't stop. He might be able to get her out of there alive, even if it meant a lost hand or a foot for her.
But that's when a mirthful bellow added itself to the mix from Vern's left, "Not so fast, you old fuck," yelled Ambrose with a hearty chuckle, whizzing past Vern in a blue flash, halting right in front of Esther.
There, he tapped his cane on the ground, which led to the emergence of subtle waves even in Vern's Stability sight. But that was just a side effect. As if utterly disrupted, the vigorously spinning spiral rushing towards Esther lost all its momentum and dissipated into nothingness.
Vern nodded solemnly at Ambrose and went back to ensuring that the other drill didn't play any tricks on them. He was delighted Ambrose jumped back in to help them, though he was still irked by their unnecessary taunting.
Fortunately, that gigantic singular spiral hadn't been under the radiant man's direct control, or it would have been a disaster. Or maybe the limitation was different in nature. Maybe it was even possible that he could only control a few at a time, and the rest had to be left to their own devices.
However, Vern soon found his assumptions challenged. Their enemy was adapting to the swordsman's tactic, and all the spirals moved closer to each other. Just enough so that the swordsman couldn't handle them with a single deflect, but it made his job relatively harder.
So, their foe could indeed move them, but there had to be limitations, or the first spiral wouldn't have stupidly continued drilling an impossible pillar.
However, he had a bigger problem than that right now. The swordsman tried his best, moving so fast it made it seem like he was disappearing and appearing at other spirals up in the sky. But there were too many this time.
Five of the spirals managed to sneak past the swordsman, and he chortled, "Get them, boys. I trust you," and moved on to another cluster. Vern didn't understand where the swordsman's confidence in them came from, but he had no intentions of failing anyway.
"By that, he meant you. I still have a rat to deal with. He's too fucking slippery if you ask me." Ambrose left these words in the air as he dashed back to where he'd come from.
Vern grunted and focused on the incoming barrage. It was going to be tough to stabilize five spots all at once, even when the spirals weren't actively finding targets. Now that there was a chance they could move? He would have to hope that he was better at adapting to changes than their foe in the air.
One was going to barrel through one end of the station out the other, but it would hit multiple beams in the process. He would have to stop this one no matter what.
Two were gunning for the odd edges of some random rooms. Fourth seemed like it wouldn't hit anything critical.
The last one, however, was primed to drill a hole in the engine room. That one was too risky to not be nullified pre-emptively. A little bit of friction on some odd chemicals could lead to a massive explosion in no time. Yeah, I will have to hold that one down on an earlier wall.
Just as Vern prepared to act, an anomaly in his perception caught his attention. It was very minor, even negligible—two ripples of a slightly darker shade in an otherwise uniform silver-gray patch of the floor above him. But he wouldn't have noticed it if that's all it was.
That pair of ripples…moved. Every moment that passed, they inched forward, almost as if step-by-step—heading straight towards Vern. There was no sound or any other clue, but he was more than sure his perception wasn't deceiving him.
A sharp glint appeared in his eyes as he arrived at the only logical conclusion, Someone's trying to sneak up on me.
They like to surprise people, eh? Vern thought, hope they like getting surprised, too.
