Fell Champions

Otter’s fist cracked against Il-Su’s nose in a very satisfying crunch. It didn’t just flatten, it broke. Otter had never thrown a punch so well in her life, and this one felt so good that she was certain not even Sami at her most critical could find fault with its execution. 

Il-Su staggered back a few steps, and reflexively held a hand to his nose. He pulled it away, his hand coming away bloody. His nose looked a wreck, bent to the side and gushing crimson down his chin. 

“What the hell?” he said.

“I’m a fucking lesbian, you thundercock.”

“No, you’re just–”

“If you say I’m confused again, by Lord Cthulu’s hentai face, I will cut off your balls, whip you in the face with them, and then feed them to you.”

Il-Su made an angry, frustrated noise, and glared at her. She could see the heat in his eyes, the wrath. And then he closed them, visibly shuddered, and reopened them. He looked calm again, his gaze even kind of puppy-like. 

“You have to help me,” he said. 

“Oh, we’re way past that, bud.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not my fault, any of it, it’s Kir’s.”

“Best I’ve got for you is the Old Yeller treatment at this point. Sucks, but that’s where we’re at. You’ve crossed all the lines, shown zero remorse, and your only defense has been that it’s not your fault.”

“It isn’t! She made me do it!”

Otter pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache coming on. She really didn’t want to kill the idiot, but he wasn’t helping his case every time he opened his word hole. Or whenever he reminded her that the grappling hook lodged in her shoulder was his fault. Or really every time he did anything at all.

Something shifted in his stance, like a snake coiling and getting ready to strike. Otter readied her previously summoned Thread, but he wasn’t looking at her. She spared a quick glance behind her, terrified he’d try to take advantage, and saw Sunny shuffle-hopping down the ramp from Sureya’s home.

Sunny’s eyes widened on seeing Otter, a smile breaking out on her face, which faltered immediately on her spotting Il-Su. Otter understood. There was a lot of that going around.

Il-Su’s hand darted inside his cloak, and Otter positioned herself between him and Sunny. 

“You don’t want to do that,” Otter said.

“Like hell I don’t. Have you seen what she’s capable of?”

“Yeah, she makes amazing pancakes. It’s great.”

“You don’t know what she’s done.”

“Uh, engaged in some pretty epic hugs?”

“She tried to kill me!”

“Yeah, but… you probably deserved it.”

“He did!” Sunny called from somewhere behind Otter.

“See? Can’t be helped.”

“I only killed Juala because Kir ordered me to.”

“And I’m only defending Sunny because she is delightful and precious. Unlike some people I can name.”

Sunny shuffle-hopped to Otter’s side, who would’ve laughed at it if not for the tense feeling to the air, and that infernal beating in her veins. 

“I go by Vex now.”

Otter placed a hand on Vex’s curly mop of hair and ruffled it. She had to resist the urge to also give those fox-like ears of hers a good scritch. 

“It suits you.”

“It feels like me. Like what I want to be.”

“You don’t need to sell me on the change. I always figured ‘Sunny’ was just a placeholder.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Il-Su move. Just as she’d expected. Otter knew as soon as she appeared to let her guard down, he’d act. It was just his nature.

The tides came and receded. The scorpion stung. Il-Su looked after himself first.

He flicked a knife out in a sharp, short throw. Not too much power behind it, that would’ve telegraphed a bigger wind-up. He didn’t need to bury it to the hilt, he just needed to hit somewhere vital, and for that he just needed accuracy, which he had.

But so did Otter.

He was always a fan of the femoral artery at this range, especially with this kind of move. She knew the knife would come in low, and had the advantage.

She still barely caught the knife, the golden wire of her Thread of the Scourge wrapping around and snagging the blade. She spun the wire in an arc, a little more clumsily than she’d have liked, and sent it hurtling back at him. He got an arm up to defend against the blade, and it scored along a leather bracer. The blade sank in a few centimeters, but when Otter yanked the knife back, she caught it and appraised the blade. There were a few spots of crimson on it.

“Fuck off, Il-Su,” she said. “Final warning.”

He flicked his arm in annoyance, and then drew a pair of knives. The man was a genius at so many things, but he always was shit poor at life decisions.

“He can turn invisible,” Vex said. “I can see him if he does.”

Il-Su’s face flickered with annoyance, but his voice took on a taunting tone. “Caster versus Rogue, Mayumi.”

She frowned. She knew exactly what he meant. Especially since they’d enacted it in sparring a lot in the past. It was a bad matchup for her. A Rogue’s entire job was to get through to the backline and kill casters. It was what he specialized in. 

“Eh, I’m a hybrid caster,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Not gonna go down as easy as you’d think. Especially since we’re in the middle of a street. With a lot of people watching.”

“And?”

Time to make a story. One that included audience participation. She’d been looking forward to this.

She smirked. “And you murdered Juala Moseina!”

The look of dawning horror on his face felt worth every annoyance he’d laid at her feet since Fell Champions had begun. 

People perked up at that. Angry faces in windows, the odd person on the street that had been pretending to not notice what was going on suddenly became very interested in events. 

Il-Su puffed his chest out. “You think one shouted–”

Vex yelled, “This fucker killed Juala! I was there! I saw it all! He stabbed her with a dagger laced with the Faceless Oppressor!”

Otter wanted to hug that girl so badly. “Keep yelling, Vex. You’re all chained up, so take a break and just spread the news. I’ve got this.”

Il-Su got close. A little too close. But he made no threatening move, other than the daggers in his hands. She knew him well enough to know when he was going to use them. No, this was his emotions getting the better of him.

“Stop this, Mayumi,” Il-Su said. “You just need to–”

“Boop.”

She poked his nose a little harder than she normally would someone else’s. His broken nose. He winced in pain, his eyes watering, and he stumbled back a few steps reflexively. He rubbed at his face, and shook his head.

“I guess we’re doing this then,” he said.

“I’m only reacting to you, don’t try to make this sound like a group decision.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Otter shifted her wounded shoulder, and then wished she hadn’t. “Funny way of showing it.”

“Just remember, I tried to stop this.”

She wanted to throw a funny reply at him. Some clever witticism. Or maybe just a mom joke. But she didn’t bother, not this time. She spun her Thread in a wide arc, the dagger still tied to the end. Il-Su held out an arm, and the Thread whipped him. She sent a mental command for it to entwine his arm, wrap it up and…

And the Thread winked out of existence.

The dagger tied to its end went spinning through the air, as if suddenly released from a throw, and hurtled out of sight. A cold feeling of numbness surged up the arm Otter had been using to swing the Thread about. It was like her arm had nearly fallen asleep, the sensation of pins and needles permeating it for a moment before vanishing.

What in the name of almighty Thor’s crossdressing wardrobe had that been?

“Oops,” Il-Su said, looking insufferably smug as usual. “Don’t think those reinforcements are going to come fast enough. This is about to go very poorly for you.”

*-*-*

Rua slammed a her offhand sword as hard as she could at Kir’s thigh. Kir looked bored. Bored and kind of sad. She didn’t even bother to defend. The attack stopped once more three inches away from flesh. 

A problem, but Rua was always one to adapt quickly to adversity. She reversed her grip on her main hand, and then smashed the pommel down on the end of the attacking sword, like a hammer trying to drive in a nail. Her sword barely moved at all, but barely was all she needed. The point scraped across Kir’s thigh, cutting through the silk of her bodysuit and into skin.

Kir’s eyes widened and she took a reflexive step backwards. She raised her knee, looking down at it, and shook her head in disbelief.

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone try that before,” she said. “You actually pinked me. Well done.”

Rua shrugged, feeling a surge of pride she didn’t particularly enjoy and had no intention of showing. “Every Pact has a weakness. I just need to figure yours out.”

“Oh, the main ability has a big one. But even if I tell you, it won’t help.”

Rua stepped in, and gave a few testing swings at Kir. She tried aiming behind her, through her, around her. Kir still didn’t attempt a defense. It didn’t matter if Rua tried to stab at a point behind Kir, drilling into her own brain she wasn’t trying to hurt Kir herself, just hit the spot behind her and that her blade would just happen to have to pass through her. That defensive ability still came up and stopped the attack cold. 

Attacks that would naturally miss, but come close, wouldn’t trigger the shield. So it wasn’t a matter of proximity. It was attacking Kir herself, either intentionally or unintentionally, that activated it. 

But there had to be a way through it. The bruises on her face, delivered to her from her father, were proof she wasn’t invincible.

Was it the weapons that the Pact blocked? If Rua went in with fists only, would that help?

She slammed both swords into her scabbards, and fell into a hand-to-hand stance. Kir sighed dramatically, and then raised her arms up and to the sides, welcoming the attacks.

Rua’s punch, thrown half-heartedly, was stopped. It was an odd feeling. She didn’t hit anything, she wasn’t deflected or blocked. She couldn’t feel anything touching her. She was just being stopped from harming Kir. 

Rua kicked at Kir’s knee, then tried stomping down on her foot, and once again was stopped both times. Rua broke away, reconsidering.

Maybe she wasn’t throwing enough force into it? She had a lot of soul power invested into her physical strength these days. A lot more than most people ever got. Maybe she could overload whatever was protecting Kir if she tossed in enough force, similar to trying to hammer in the sword.

Throwing extra strength at a problem rarely actually helped, but it might here. She barreled a fist forward in a vicious haymaker. She didn’t have the body mass to make it look scary, but her soul power more than made up for it.

Her fist stopped, just like with everything else, but this time she could feel her arm quivering, threatening to push forward just a little more. It was like her hand was moving through thick air, something invisible resisting her, a natural law of the universe being defied but still demanding its due. 

Kir eyed that fist, maybe an inch from her face, with a sideways glance, and shook her head. “Trying to overpower it? Really? I’ve seen that dozens of times. It’s never worked before. Although I have to say, you’re getting closer than most. Did you spend the whole year you were gone farming soul power?”

“You know, for someone who wants to kill my daughter–”

“I don’t need to kill her, as we’ve established.”

“For someone who wants to hurt my daughter,” Rua growled with annoyance, “you sure seem to not be trying to actually beat me.”

Kir shrugged. “We haven’t really talked in a year. I miss you. And it doesn’t really matter how much of a headstart the Fleshcrafter gets. After I’m done here, you’ll be helping me find her.”

Rua felt herself go cold. “So, that’s how it is then. You’ll strip me of my free will. Make me into a toy.”

“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll still have free will. You’ll just also want to do things I want you to do. I promise not to abuse it.”

No pain, no lie. That didn’t make Rua feel reassured in any way. 

“You know I won’t forgive you if you hurt her.”

Kir nodded. “I don’t deserve forgiveness even if I didn’t. I know what I am. I know the price I pay for duty.”

Rua drew her hatchet, tested its weight, and then threw it at Kir. It stopped in midair, once more just three inches from her, and then fell harmlessly to the floor. 

“And what about your duty to your family?”

 “Which family? My adopted one, or the one I was born into? I’m stuck, sister. Everyone has expectations of me. Even you.”

“All I want from you–”

“Please stop. I know how you feel. You’re even more obvious about it than Juala was.”

Even though Kir had yet to throw an actual attack, Rua felt like she’d just taken more damage than Kir had for all the steel and force that had been thrown at her so far.

“What… what do you mean?”

“Rua. Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t become you. We’ve known each other for eleven years, and you’re the person I love most in the world. Of course I know.”

Rua clung to those words. Kir loved her. She’d never really come out and said it before. She was honest and forthright and brave and so perfect at everything, but she was also closed off, remote, detached at times. So willing to go into a fight to defend a friend with a smile on her face, but also so determined not to really let someone in.

But still… Kir knew. She knew. Rua had always kept her feelings to herself. Mikovians didn’t like people of the same sex. They were weird prudes, only liking people of the opposite gender. Rua hadn’t wanted to impose, to have her feelings be yet another burden for Kir, something she had to worry about and ignore while still trying to be friends.

No. Rua shoved the thought away. It didn’t matter if Kir knew or not. For now, for this moment, they were enemies. And Rua had to protect Sunny. She had to make sure she won. Which meant she had to figure out how to beat this stupid Pact, or work out what its operational conditions were.

Maybe Kir’s Pact worked like Willcasting. Was she forming an impenetrable barrier of pure Will around herself?

That made sense. Which meant, Rua just had to get angry. Angry and focused. She had to mentally tear the defenses apart. She punched herself in the leg, let herself feel the pain, dredged up memories of Juala, of the Criobani, of Father.

She remembered a woman on a dock, marching towards a ship. A Criobani ship. Not looking back. She remembered shouting even as others cheered. The first real victory of the Occupation. Getting the traitor to leave the Islands in disgrace. 

So many people had been happy that day. Happy, and angry, but a pleasant kind of anger. One they reveled in. But not Rua. No. She’d been lonely, so lonely. And furious. 

Rua had screamed her anger at Father for betraying them all, and still having the audacity to leave her behind. 

Those memories always brought on tears, but they were righteous and furious ones. They were the salt of the ocean, the home of the Silayans, and nothing could hold back the pounding waves of her wrath. 

They stung at the corner of her eyes even as her heart beat a rhythm of vehement turbulence. She was going to do it. She was going to fight, and she was going to–

Kir stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Rua in a hug.

“Stop that,” she gently chided. “It’s not Willcasting. Working yourself up isn’t going to work. Stop thinking about her.”

“I have to try everything,” Rua said, struggling to hold onto her anger, but wanting to fall into Kir’s embrace. “I can’t trust what you’re saying.”

“You above all know I’m not lying.”

Rua grunted in annoyance and pulled away. Kir always had to be right. Not out of any desire to be, she just simply always ended up that way. Intelligent, talented, beautiful, it was a mystery to everyone why she’d even bothered to put soul power into her Allure at all. She’d hardly needed it beforehand, and she’d never been a vain person. 

It had always been weird. But no one ever questioned it. Because Kir was smart, and she always… did things… for a reason.

Something clicked in Rua’s head.

She looked at those bruises on Kir’s face. The ones her father had given her.

Her father.

Her father had gotten through her Pact, where no one else had. But it was a Pact that Kir said had one glaring weakness. A Pact Kir had said Rua in particular would be a bad matchup against.

Oh. Oh no.

Something must have shown on Rua’s face, because Kir’s face communicated understand, and she nodded along.

“You figured it out, I see,” Kir said. “Gracewarden. That’s my Pact. The primary ability being that no one can bring any harm to me, so long as they are in some way attracted to me.”

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