The Zombie Knight

These days, there were a lot of things that didn't make sense to Roman Fullister. Particularly about Hector. In fact, he'd almost given up hope of ever feeling like he would have a true grasp of what was going on with that kid, anymore. The sudden leaps in power and influence? The changes in Hector's general disposition and apparent knowledge base? And the leadership he'd been exhibiting with all these Rainlords?

It was all an ever-expanding enigma.

But what exactly was happening here and now, Roman wondered? He'd done as Hector had told them and returned to the Entry Tower, but with every second that passed, Roman questioned himself and his situation more and more.

He did trust in Hector's judgment, but still... as he thought back to that moment when the young Lord Darksteel had told them what to do, Roman realized that he hadn't questioned Hector's words or decisions at all. Even Voreese wasn't putting up a stink while they waited in here, which was more than a little odd, to say the least.

As he looked over their small group another time, he came to the conclusion that this wasn't right. Even if Hector himself was right, this wasn't. Even if this was the smartest play right now--to wait for Abbas Saqqaf to show up--Roman couldn't just keep sitting in here while Hector was out there fighting, alone.

For a moment, everything was suddenly clearer. And slower again, too. But this time, his thoughts didn't feel so sluggish, as if he could step out of the chaos of the battle and assess the entire situation anew, utilizing all of the information being provided to and expended by the other four thought processes.

An extra, heightened layer of both awareness and decision-making combined into one: that is what this seemed to be.

He could think. He was still being overwhelmed, but he could think. What did he need here?

The fifth process could be freed up for another layer of counterattacking, too. But what would that accomplish? What manner of counterattack would help him here? Banda was swarming him.

No. He didn't need an extra attack. He just needed to make his current attacks more precise. He needed them to actually hit and get the raptors off his ass.

So that's what the fifth process went towards. Aiming.

A raptor's claw scraped his shield and gouged out of a chunk of his leg armor. A beam of pure heat followed immediately, barely bouncing off the shield and searing the tip of his helmet. He had to clench his eyes shut in the desperate hope that they wouldn't be burned out of his skull.

But he had a lock. With the Scarf and aura combined, he didn't need his eyes. Plus, it helped that the closest raptor was very close.

The molten cube hit dead center, and the clone exploded into smoke and dropped away from him. Hector didn't hesitate to follow up, either. A second cube, a third. Both already locked on to the second and third raptors.

They hit, though neither was as clean as the first. The second was caught in the raptor's side, tearing a chunk out and leaving a trail of crimson smoke behind, but the monster was still flying. Still chasing. And the third was even better off.

Because it had actually swallowed the cube.

Granted, that raptor didn't look like it was enjoying itself after its meal as it thrashed and vomited up glowing iron, but it still wasn't slowing its pursuit very much at all.

And there was also the fourth, of course. That one was farther back but catching up quickly now.

Hector was tempted to let loose another flurry of cubes again, but no. Precision was the key here. While it might've been a stretch to say that this strategy was truly working, it was definitely doing something. Keeping the bastards off him, at least. Giving him much needed space. He just had to--

The world shuddered. Every thought process flickered at once, blacking out his entire mind for a second.

He had to do something. That much was obvious.

But his mind was already being stretched beyond its limit as he tried to keep track of everything. That much was also obvious, just from instinct alone. It was this tenuous feeling in his head, like his own grip on himself--on his Focus, perhaps--was slipping. If he continued trying to push even further, would it all collapse? Would his Focus break apart? Lose track of everything? Or just destroy his mind entirely?

There was no way to know. But it was a terrifying sensation, as if he were standing at the cusp of a bridge that led into a wall of complete black. A veil into something wholly unknown or even unknowable.

Beyond here, there was no knowledge for, nor hope of, a capacity to return. If he took another step forward, anything could happen to him. He could be changed horrifically forever. He could simply disappear. Be swallowed whole by oblivion.

He didn't fear Banda. He didn't fear the battle. He certainly didn't fear death.

But he did fear this. Whatever it was.

In his head, everything seemed to slow to a crawl as he deliberated. Even his own thoughts felt sluggish, just barely faster than everything else going on around him.

Just barely enough to make a decision.

This fear. It seemed built-in. Part of the deal. He couldn't take that step without acknowledging it. Without accepting it. Ignoring it or trying not to feel it--those things were somehow out of the question.

And a million questions wanted to be asked at once.

Where did this bridge lead? Was this another form of emergence? Was this Focus? Domain? Both? Something else? The Candle's influence? Would he be changed? For the better? For the worse? Did it even matter? Did he have any choice at all?

But he didn't have the mind for any of these questions. Not enough space or awareness left. He only had enough to decide.

And of course he had to do it. The raptors were closing in, practically chomping at his heels. If this meant an opportunity to keep fighting, to protect Warrenhold and Atreya and everyone else, then he had to push onward.

He felt it begin to form. A fifth thread in his mind. A fifth thought process. The first for flight, the second for managing his senses, the third for counterattacking, the fourth for decision-making. And this was the fifth.

Hector took aim again while flying backwards. He used precious seconds to focus in on the next clone. More attacks flew in his direction, enough so that he had to change course. With the Scarf, he could just barely sense the deadly red clouds ahead and avoid them.

He loosed another molten cube, but this time he missed. It sailed right passed the intended clone, and he grit his teeth in frustration. He didn't get even a brief reprieve from Banda's assault. If anything, Banda went harder. More lasers, more explosions, more gas.

And more clones. There were four Bandas again.

That wasn't good for his morale. Now it felt like he wasn't even making progress. Like everything he'd done up to now was pointless.

He put it out of his mind, though. How he felt about that didn't matter. Only the fight did. Only protecting Warrenhold.

He could feel Banda's aura more strongly than ever now. Its anger. Its domineering pressure. Its hunger.

Banda didn't just want to win the fight. He wanted to break Hector's spirit. Or put a different way, he wanted his aura to win over Hector's aura.

It was like a thousand invisible hands, all trying to strangle him or hold him. Trying to will him into giving up before the fight was even done.

He'd felt this before. Multiple times, in fact, and not just from Banda. So it didn't bother him.

But it was also more intense than he'd ever felt it before, too. The heat of the battle made it so. Banda's aura was growing feverish. Uncontrolled.

Animalistic.

And before his very eyes, Hector could see that same feeling making itself into a reality. Banda's clones were each shifting more solidly into that chaotic form from earlier, that dinosaur-looking thing. Their movements were becoming more unpredictable, too, as if instinct was taking over.

They weren't thinking and planning, anymore. Not strategizing. Just reacting. Just pursuing. Just trying to satisfy their appetite.

Perhaps these developments could've been good for Hector. If Banda wasn't thinking, then surely it would be easier to outsmart him.

But this deep into the fight, when he was already struggling to not be swarmed and overwhelmed, this might've been the worst possible thing to happen.

Because Banda was getting faster. The clones--the literal raptors--were getting closer. Hector had at least been able to keep ahead of them before with his barely-controlled flying ability, but now that wasn't the case. He could already tell.

Sooner or later, they were going to catch him.

Even with soul-empowerment, the decoy armors probably hadn't worked for the same reason that the walls from earlier hadn't. Because Banda wasn't just using vision and soul sense in order to track him.

It was aura, almost certainly. The armors had soul power added to them but not aura, and Banda could sense the difference.

So if he wanted such a tactic to work, he'd have to start pressing his aura into his work, as well.

If only he knew how to do that. Or if it was even possible to begin with. Pauline would probably know.

Agh, they were getting close to the city. To civilians. He couldn't keep going this way with Banda hot on his heels.

He swooped right, gradual and curving, aiming to turn back toward Warrenhold.

Red smoke began to materialize ahead of him in large pockets. They were simple enough to avoid, but they were getting closer each time. Hector understood. Banda was trying to predict where he would be and materialize a deadly cloud right on top of him.

He had to mix up his movements, then. Be unpredictable. Flying in a straight line wasn't smart, but zigzagging everywhere also meant that the four clones chasing after him could catch up more easily. If they just flew straight, they'd have less distance to travel, comparatively.

Not good. His own chaotic movements made it even harder for him to aim his counterattacks. And he very much needed to be more precise with those, not less. It seemed like Banda was barely hindered by the flurry of molten cubes.

Time to change it up, then. No more flurry. Just concentrate and aim. The Amir-10 was mostly regenerated now, so he could take this risk. The closest clone was the best target.

Hector focused. Zeroed in on what the Scarf and Banda's aura were telling him.

The laser beams, exploding javelins, and angry red clouds grew suddenly more furious during the few seconds he eased up on his counterattack. Hector had to spin around and fly backwards so that he could protect himself with the Amir-10.

But he had it. The clone was clear.

He loosed a molten cube right at it, as fast he could make it fly.

It clobbered the clone through the torso. Smoke and fire exploded on impact.

That looked good, but Hector didn't get the opportunity to assess the aftermath, because there were still three more clones to go. He focused on the next closest target as he readied another cube.

But the clones were changing up their tactics now, too. Serpentine movements. Making it harder to aim.

So they were wary of eating another attack like the last one, then. That was good, but this sure wasn't. Damn clones were weaving into each other's flight paths, trying to disorient him even more.

As he flew through the trees, he materialized a second copy of his own armor and dumped it behind him, making sure to empower it with his soul. It was just a rough decoy, not at all intricate or accurate, but it didn't need to impress. It only needed to distract. Even if for a split second, that would be enough. Because he intended to make more.

Making them move probably would've helped, but that felt like too much. His attention was already so divided, and he hadn't devoted any serious practice time to armored puppetry. And he didn't have time to mull it over now, either. The decisions were just flying. He had to trust his gut.

He dropped off more rough lumps of armor, all vaguely Hector-shaped, and kept going. The majority of his attention had to remain on the Bandas. Four of them. Still pursuing. Farther behind, sure, but not far enough for his liking.

And this forest wasn't that big, either. Gray Rock wasn't exactly known for its greenery.

Without warning, a massive bed of red spikes shot up from the ground, and Hector barely blocked it in time with the shield. Instead of being completely skewered, he was sent tumbling skyward, back above the canopy again.

Fuck. They were closing in again. All four at once. More attacks trying to smother him.

Still reeling, he didn't bother trying to stabilize again. He just launched himself in the opposite direction and loosed as many molten cubes behind him as he could. They were haphazard and inaccurate, but they just needed to provide some cover for him. To give Banda something to think about.

And he had plenty to spare. Even as he fired, he didn't stop loading new ones up.

These were bigger than the minigun-style bullets he'd shot earlier, but he wasn't trying to make them explode to disperse smoke. In that sense, at least, they were easier to process and churn out.

But something was wrong. Agh. Another laser had clipped his leg. Half of it was gone.

That wasn't the problem, though. That was just a nuisance. Another distraction. No, he had to concentrate. The real problem was that those decoy armors hadn't worked at all. Banda hadn't gotten distracted even a tiny bit.

Another background thought process tried to create itself and search for an answer, even as his mind was already pressed so hard between flight, counterattacking with bombardment, and managing all of his sensory input. Three entire thought processes, each operating with maximum urgency, was already pushing it. A fourth on top of all that, even at a lower intensity, was definitely beyond his limit.

But he needed that answer.

And thankfully, it didn't take him long to realize.

Hector struggled to stabilize. No time to think. Three Bandas were coming for him, he knew. Where were they all? He could still sense two but not the third.

He couldn't dwell on it. Had to act. If they were solid enough for him to sense this clearly, they would be more vulnerable to bombardment. He loaded up more cubes in his mind as twin assaults of lasers and exploding javelins pressed him down closer to the ground. He needed to keep track of his altitude on top of everything else.

More processing. More thinking. More concentration.

Ah. There was the third. Circling around to flank him. Not as solid as the other two. Much smokier. Harder to sense that way. Smart. Hector almost hadn't--

Oh shit, there was a fourth on the other side.

He needed distance. Speed. Couldn't let himself get surrounded. Even a few extra seconds would be useful for the Amir-10 to repair itself.

"Sagir!" said Hector.

And the Amir-10 shrunk back down to its usual size. The holes in it were now smaller as well. The regenerating factor was supposed to be faster than the Amir-9 version, and Hector had no doubt that it was, but goddamn if it didn't still feel like a lifetime was transpiring in the middle of this fight.

Hector swerved out of the way of another slew of lasers, one of which he caught with the shield, making it bounce off and hit into the thin canopy of trees below. One of the poor trees took the full force of it and burst apart, setting the others around it aflame as splintered wood splashed up toward Hector.

A thought struck him, and he didn't hesitate. He dove down lower, into the trees. They wouldn't provide much cover, but some was still better than none. And the forest wasn't too dense. Even going as fast as he was, he didn't worry about crashing.

He wanted to press his sensory advantage--assuming he did indeed have one. If trees made it even slightly more difficult for Banda to keep track of him with his aura sense or whatever the fuck he was using, then that would be enough.

Aha, and the Banda clones were lagging behind now. Not losing track of him, necessarily, but definitely a bit slower to follow.

And he was getting another idea now.

Clones, huh?

Hector couldn't match that trick, but maybe he could pull off a bootleg version.

The next shift came suddenly enough that Hector barely had time to sense it. Through all the smoke and chaos and ear-splitting explosions, the change in Banda Toro's aura was almost lost on him.

No more curiosity. Just anger. But in a professional way, somehow. Respectfully furious, perhaps.

The next flurry of attacks were nothing like the last ones. They came from all sides, multiples jaws and slashing claws flying at him at once. And too fast. No way to get out unscathed, even as Hector saw them coming a split second before.

"Kabura!" said Hector.

The Amir-10 responded. In an instant, it was as tall as he was and wider. It completely covered his left side as he flung himself out of the coming onslaught's path.

But it was also thinner now, too. Multiple claws dug into it, leaving streaks and poking holes large enough to see through. It did its job, though. For his left side, at least.

His right side took all the slashing and tearing with nothing more than his iron armor for protection. The Raptor's fangs tore through that like tissue and drew a geyser of blood out of Hector.

A long, streaking trail of red followed Hector as he pushed himself to fly faster, but it wasn't just smoke this time. The blood wasn't stopping, he saw. A third of his torso was missing, and his right arm was shredded and twitching.

He still had feeling in it, though. Boy, did he still have feeling in it. He probably would've screamed in agony if he wasn't concentrating so hard on not getting killed.

Because Banda was pursuing. Another heat laser came for him. He sensed it in time to block it with the shield, but the Amir-10 was still thinner and needed time to regenerate. Fire poured through the holes, widening some of them and melting chunks of his armor.

He kept flying, just focusing on not getting disoriented. He'd been forced to let up his attack in order to get away, but he still knew where Banda was. The Scarf and aura together made it obvious. Plus, Banda wasn't as smoky as before. The guy had solidified more of himself, which thankfully made it easier to--

There were three of him now.

Hector sensed it just as a cluster of red spears flew toward him. He managed to avoid them, but they exploded and sent him veering off his intended course.

He'd already "loaded" up an onslaught of orbiting cubes in his mind for this. All tiny, no bigger than golf balls. All icy to the core. All soul-empowered.

From behind his shield, Hector thrusted his gauntleted hand toward the perceived center of Banda's smoke, and the barrage of frozen iron bullets flew forth as if they were being shot out of a minigun with the trigger taped down. Sustained, not stopping.

They pierced the smoke with no trouble, but of course that wasn't the goal. The molten coatings that made the bullets start exploding was.

Frankly, he knew he didn't have enough control to add coatings to every single bullet that he fired. They were way too many moving way too fast. But that was okay. He just needed to get most of them. And the gushing heat from the new iron would cause other, nearby bullets to explode anyway, even without coatings of their own.

And he didn't hold the power back at all. The bullets were as cold as he could possibly make them, and the coatings were as hot as he could possibly make them. The explosions might not have been huge like Melchor's against Xuan had been, but they didn't let up and piled on top of each other.

The result, therefore, was a continuous stream of white-hot fireworks tearing through Banda's red smoke and dispersing it with ease. Hector whipped the stream to and fro as he flew, cutting huge swaths through the smoke even as it slowed its pursuit of him.

He saw no reason to let up. He just kept going, trying to disperse as much of it as he could as quickly as he could.

Steam and black smoke mixed with the red, creating havoc in the storm and rendering it utterly impossible for Hector to tell where Banda's "center" was any longer.

He wasn't about to stop and try to reassess, though. The constant stream of explosions was certainly taxing on his mind, requiring two entire thought processes, but that didn't matter. As long as he could still see red, the bullets weren't going to stop flying.

He couldn't even tell if it was really working, but that didn't matter, either. Not yet, anyway. Because if it was working, he might not get a second chance to take Banda by surprise as he suspected that he had. He needed to go all the way here, providing no breathing room for this son of a bitch.

Banda was telegraphing everything--and not just with his movements. His aura, his intent, they made it clear as day.

The attack was coming from his right this time. He moved out the way with more time to spare than usual. The next cluster of long, red claws came faster, but Hector avoided those, too. With a second or two to spare, even.

Which felt like a lifetime in the middle of this fight.

Good. Great, even.

But this wasn't what he needed. He'd already been able to sense Banda's movements well enough with the Scarf and his own two eyes. This added an extra layer to things, sure--gave him some breathing room--but what he really needed was to find that point of vulnerability that Melchor mentioned.

If souls gave that information away, then aura probably could, too. Souls were a component of aura, after all.

He just had to concentrate. To look. To feel.

Melchor's attack had pierced Xuan's smoke at the center. Hector was looking as hard as he could, but he couldn't see, feel, or otherwise sense anything special at the center of Banda's smoke. Hell, it was hard enough to even tell where the center was most of the time. The way Banda's form shifted constantly in its pursuit. How was he even supposed to--

No, wait.

A glimpse. A glimmer. Hector thought he saw it. For a split second amid the chaos, just before taking another huge laser beam with the Amir-10, he thought that maybe it was there. As thousands of sparks and gushing flames jumped off his shield, Hector waited for another chance to see.

Yeah.

The fire dissipated around him. Banda was coming from the left, as subtle as a train, and Hector propelled himself out of the way. By now, he could feel multiple broken bones throughout his body from all this "flight." It was more like flinging himself through the air than actually flying, but that didn't matter. It was the furthest thing from his mind, right now.

Because he saw the center. The point around which all of Banda's smoke shifted and morphed. It wasn't always the actual center. That was the tricky thing about it.

It seemed to Hector that Banda's smoke was like a rubber band, and the center--the mind, perhaps--was like a nail around which the rubber band stretched and spun itself. At times, the nail was the farthest edge; at others, it was the closest part of the smoke to him.

In fact, it was coming closer more often than not.

Which made sense, Hector realized. Because Banda wanted him to do something. Dared him to.

So he did.

Zeff had gone on to lecture him about the importance of being able to intelligently evaluate one's opponent and determine whether victory or escape was the appropriate course of action. Which had been a very wise and important thing to bring up, of course.

If Zeff were able to read Hector's thoughts right now, the man probably would've been very disappointed in him.

Because escape wasn't even a consideration.

This was Warrenhold. It wasn't a place that you needed to escape from. It was a place you could escape to.

And there were dozens of non-combatants down there. They needed to be protected.

And right now, the so-called Lord Darksteel needed to come through for them.

In his mind, none of these thoughts were fully formed or articulated. They were just gut feelings at best, underlining every racing thought that passed through his head as he narrowly dodged or blocked every devastating blow from Banda Toro.

Hector knew that he needed to come up with something. And this aura shit was so overwhelming. As the fight drew out, he could feel it all the more intensely. In his mind. In his body. Everywhere.

Consuming everything around him. A suffocating and invigorating blanket.

It was a contradiction unto itself. Like struggling ferociously against an angry sea, yet also being able to breathe the very waters of that same sea, taking strength from the crashing waves even as they tried to batter him into pieces.

And in a different way, it was also familiar. When he'd talked to Rasalased and when he'd gone into the Candle--those experiences were both similar to this, albeit not entirely.

This felt more like a blend of those times with how he normally felt.

Like things were only half real, right now. Like reality itself was questionable but still present. Asleep and awake at the same time.

And Hector searched.

He didn't know for what. A solution to all his problems? Or to just this fight? For something helpful, at least.

There was definitely something here. In the middle of this fury. This storm. He could sense so many fleeting things. There was a fireworks show beneath everything else. A storm beneath the storm. It was there.

He just couldn't. Quite. Touch it.

But maybe he could see it. Just. Barely. In a way.

Banda's intent was part of it. The man's aura wasn't trying to hide that at all. If anything, it was like it wanted to be seen. To be acknowledged.

To be challenged. Yes, of course it did.

This was not a test he was prepared for. He'd known that when he decided to fly up here. But there was even more to the insanity of the situation than just that.

Because he already had a rather strong idea of how outclassed he was here. Thanks to Melchor Blackburn and the late Xuan Sebolt. And also Zeff, later on.

Hector had already witnessed a powerful smoke-based warrior in action once before. He'd had quite the front row seat, in fact. Xuan's fight with Melchor at the Blackburn fortress known as Marshrock had certainly been something to behold. And when Melchor gained the upper hand, Hector had been the one to carry and protect Xuan from him in order to give Xuan much needed time to recover.

That was the first time Hector had seen precisely how terrifying the gap in strength between servants could be. Melchor and Xuan were each one the deciding factor between victory and defeat for their side. Everything in that battle had revolved around them, around their clash.

And of course, in that fight Hector had further witnessed Xuan being nearly defeated by Melchor. So he knew now that smoke warriors could be defeated. They weren't simply invulnerable, thankfully.

How Melchor had done it, though, was the difficult part.

To Hector's eyes, the crippling blow from Melchor had appeared as essentially just a giant explosion. It pierced the smoke at its heart and then burst apart, dispersing it everywhere.

Not unlike the exploding javelins that Hector had been testing here. Just a lot more powerful.

However, Hector knew now that Melchor's technique on that occasion had involved more than making a really big boom.

Because he'd asked Melchor about it once, when the man happened to show up during one of his training sessions with Zeff.

"Ah, yeah, that was a pretty advanced little trick," Melchor had told him. "Smoke can be very troublesome to deal with. You can't just punch it. And if your opponent has enough control over the form, soul power won't do anything, either. Because they can manipulate their body around your attacks at will. So what you do is concentrate your soul power into a single attack and strike at the enemy's most vulnerable point with something that can disrupt their form. Such as an explosion. Because they can't warp their body around that kind of attack. It's omnidirectional."

But after he'd left, Zeff had more to add.

"First, you have to be able to sense soul power," the Lord Elroy had said. "Without that, you won't be able to tell where your opponent's most vulnerable point even is."

These attacks from Banda were certainly dangerous, but Hector couldn't help thinking there was something off about them, too. They were so straightforward. Not creative or sneaky at all. Banda wasn't throwing any feints at him or trying to distract him. The Raptor was just barreling headlong toward him like a rabid animal. Ferocious, perhaps, but mindless.

And yet, that didn't seem quite right, either. This feeling in his gut was telling Hector something else.

Banda wasn't mindless. That's what was so strange here.

Despite all appearances to the contrary, Banda was still in control of himself. Still thinking. Still rational.

Still testing him.

Banda wanted a clash. A direct conversation. For now, at least. He wasn't trying to kill him at any cost yet. He wanted to get to know Hector better, first.

This had to be the weirdest fucking thing that Hector had ever felt. He didn't even know if he should trust it. Reading his opponent's intent? Was this because of his own aura or Banda's? Perhaps all auras were like this.

Whatever the case, he had to come to a decision. He'd flown up here to have a "conversation" with Banda, but did this game of chase qualify as that? Were he and Banda learning about each other?

Somewhat. Definitely somewhat. Could Banda read his intent in the same way? Hector had a feeling that he could.

Which meant that the Raptor could perhaps sense his uncertainty. His hesitation. His struggle for solutions.

But not his fear.

No, not that. Because there was nothing to read. Hector was not afraid of this asshole. He was angry at him.

And learning more about Banda like this, about that calm mind beneath the storm of furious red...

It actually pissed Hector off more. Being able to sense that there was a real, thinking human being in there, that it wasn't just some crazed, psychotic animal devoid of all emotion and humanity fighting him right now--that made Hector begin to genuinely hate Banda.

Because Banda was choosing to do this. The Raptor of Kortan wasn't ruled by instinct and indulgence. Those things were there, of course--Hector could sense them, too. But the sentient control was stronger. Banda knew exactly was he was doing.

And to be honest, as much at it bothered him, things were probably better off this way. The apparent curiosity in Banda's aura was definitely making him hold back, which in turn was giving Hector time.

But Hector still had to answer. Banda was posing questions to him now.

Can you do anything to me? What are you really made of? How dangerous are you, Darksteel?

Hector could all but hear these things.

He cycled through all of his previous tactics and techniques, searching for anything that seemed useful. Nothing was really sticking in his mind, though. Bullets went right through the smoke. Coating didn't work on gases. Boxes were pointless. Walls would be torn through like tissue paper.

But they could still obstruct Banda's vision.

Maybe that would buy him some extra time to think, at least.

He went to work materializing giant slabs of iron between him and Banda. He made sure to soul-empower them as well, to aid with the blocking of reaper sight as well. It wouldn't be perfect for the latter unless he completely sealed himself in, which he obviously didn't want to do, but if it could just disorient Banda a little, then that would be enough. Hector just wanted to press the sensory advantage that the Scarf of Amordiin provided.

The chase grew even crazier. Hector had to be constantly aware of Banda's position relative to him and his own falling iron walls. He couldn't spare the time to worry about dematerializing them before they crashed down to the ground. They weren't directly over the decoy castle, so it should've been fine.

It didn't take Hector long to realize that these walls weren't doing much. Even his low expectations for them were not being met. The Raptor wasn't getting disoriented at all, even when Hector started trying to curve the walls to provide more cover for himself. Banda billowed and weaved around each one, only bothering to punch through on occasion.

And then Hector realized why.

Banda always saw the shortest path to Hector. Whether it meant breaking the wall or going around it, Banda knew.

He could sense Hector some other way, couldn't he? Through his aura, probably. Obscuring his vision didn't matter, did it?

Agh.

Hector's mind raced for another solution as Banda kept the chase up. Aura felt like his only hope now, but that might've just been because it was still so mysterious to him. That hope was created by uncertainty, not by any sort of clear plan or idea.

Shit. It was about all he had, though.

There was definitely more to this aura stuff. He knew that much, at least. It was the "product of his entire self." That was what Rasalased had said.

Which meant--wait a minute. That meant that emergence actually would help, didn't it? Because emergence affected his materialization, and his materialization affected his aura. So technically...

A man-sized claw came for him, and Hector only just slipped out of the way. The wind it left in its wake was enough to rattle his armor.

That was why he'd opened with those exploding javelins. As a proof of concept, they'd been successful. Explosive force could indeed displace the smoke. Now he needed to scale up the intensity. Would've certainly helped if he'd ever practiced this technique before, but oh well. Learning mid-combat was something he'd been doing since day one, it felt like.

Rather than trying to disperse the smoke with one big burst, he went with a flurry. More javelins. Dozens of them, flying all at once, followed by an immediate second and third wave.

Molten coatings for all of them as soon as they touched the smoke.

A stream of explosions, bursting the smoke apart in clusters, not unlike bubbles in boiling water.

It wasn't doing much, Hector saw. Banda was still plowing through it all, chasing after him relentlessly.

But it wasn't doing nothing, either. He followed up with fourth and fifth waves, and he could see the smoke dispersing more and more. Momentarily, he saw what he'd been waiting for.

A few whiffs of red, isolated from the rest of the smoke--and seemingly not of Banda's own volition this time.

Hector pounced on the opportunity, clapping thick iron orbs around the separated smoke.

This was how he'd defeated the worm in the Undercrust. Cutting it up into manageable chunks. Maybe Banda would--

No.

This was wrong, he realized. In the back of his mind, he could sense it with the Scarf. The volume of smoke wasn't like that of a worm. It was changing constantly, growing and shrinking as it pleased, whipping towards him, then slinking back to try to flank him.

Banda was in pan-rozum. Which meant he had access to materialization, too. His smoke couldn't run out until he reached his volume limit, which was probably gargantuan.

This wasn't going to work. Hector knew that much. Hell, the whole fight had obviously been hopeless from the start, but if he didn't think of something different to try, then Banda Toro was going to kill him soon.

And then everyone else, too.

And worse still, emergence wouldn't help. Even if he did achieve it again, what difference would it make? More powerful materialization wasn't the answer when he couldn't even touch this guy.

The problem was a fundamental one.

In background thought processes, while he concentrated on evading each deadly attack, these thoughts were stewing.

Hector barely got out of the way in time--and even that wasn't quite enough. The flame didn't actually touch him, but it still melted most of his breastplate. He could feel his chest burning as he rushed to annihilate and rematerialize the front plate.

His flight was chaotic. He didn't yet have the kind of well-practiced control that he needed to be fighting a battle in the sky like this. But he did have the power. The speed.

That would have to do.

He didn't hold back in his movements. Subtle and nuanced went out the window. When he needed to go right, he surged right. When he needed to go left, he burst left.

His body could barely take it. He could feel bones cracking with each explosive turn. He could feel blood pooling quickly to one side of his head and limbs before violently shifting to a different side. It would've certainly been enough to make him sick and disoriented to the point of delirium, if he hadn't been so focused.

On the fight. On Banda.

The Raptor's smoking form was so difficult to keep track of at this range. It moved so strangely and unpredictably. The Scarf of Amordiin helped, but not as much as usual. Air currents could pass right through Banda's body with only the faintest whiff of information being sent back to Hector's mind.

He had to pay closer attention than ever before. He couldn't let some little puff of red smoke sneak up on him, lest it turn suddenly into a blade through his helmet.

But it wasn't like all the other red smoke in front of him could just be ignored, either. Snapping maws and thrashing claws kept materializing from the smoke, lurching at him in a flurry of ceaseless attacks as the smoke billowed after him.

And the ranged attacks, too. Some of the mouths mixed in more beams of white fire, each one threatening to end him in an instant.

Hector had the Amir-10, though--the new version of Haqq's shield that Abbas had gifted him. The beams broke upon it like water upon rock, splashing out in all directions around him.

Still, this was far from an ideal situation. He had to hit back--and hard, too. As hard as possible.

But his most powerful technique would prove useless here, Hector felt. Orbiting cubes launched at high speeds would just pass right through Banda's smoke-based body. Soul-empowering them wouldn't matter, either, he was pretty sure.

"I need you all to stay here," said Hector. "If he makes it past me, retreat into the Entry Tower and bury the entrance as best you can."

"What're you--?"

"Abbas will be here soon," said Hector. "Just hold out until then."

'Hector, wait a--' Garovel tried to say.

Hector clapped an iron orb around the reaper. 'I'm really sorry,' he told him. He caught the orb with both hands and then tossed it over to Roman. "Take care of him for me, please."

More words were said in response. Some of them quite upset, from the sound of it. But Hector had already tuned them all out. Maybe that was a stupid thing to do. It was certainly rude, at least. But he had to. The auras demanded his full attention.

Banda Toro demanded it.

The man would not be dissuaded from this fight, Hector knew. He was coming for Darksteel, and nothing was going to get in his way.

In full armor, with his still-rather-haphazard ability to fly, Hector leapt away from the ground and soared up to meet him there in the sky.

For a moment, it crossed his mind that, perhaps, Banda would want to talk to him first. And Hector wouldn't have minded. It would've meant more time for Abbas to show up.

But no. That notion was destroyed as he grew closer to Banda's aura. The heat in it. The hostility and viciousness. It didn't want to talk. Not with words, anyway. It did want a dialogue, of sorts, yes. It wanted to know him through his actions.

And on some level, Hector could appreciate that. It was absolutely horrible for him, but he could appreciate it.

He decided to open with a volley of iron javelins. The first word of the conversation. It wouldn't do much, he knew, but he intended to put a little twist on it.

He made them icy cold, and when they pierced the red smoke of Banda's body, he added an instant molten coating to them. The sudden extreme temperature difference made them explode.

It wasn't doing any actual damage, Hector knew, but it was a way of testing the waters and dispersing some of the smoke. Pockets of Banda's red form burst apart, though not for long.

The return fire from Banda was far more deadly.

A giant, dagger-toothed maw formed out of the smoke, and from it, a white hot pillar of fire shot out like a laser beam.

Even his own aura was not harmless. It wanted to respond to the heat and fury that he sensed from Banda. It wanted to influence his thoughts, to urge him into a direct fight with the Raptor of Kortan as a challenger to be met.

Which was absurd. They were not equals. Not in the least.

But there was something so moving in it. So motivating. And convincing, too.

Because if he ran, if he stalled, if he failed to meet Banda’s challenge head on, then Banda would know.

Everything would be laid bare. The aura would give it away. How true and feeble the deception had been all this time. And then Banda would really attack Warrenhold. That wicked red smoke would go down into the Entry Tower and search all throughout the fortress, learning its shape and its secrets, devouring any of the defenseless residents that it could find. Sure, they should've all been gathered in the Tower of Night by now, and yeah, maybe its nightrock walls would be able to offer some protection against such an infiltration, but still.

That was no guarantee. Not at all. That was a hope and a prayer, at best.

In many ways, this flash of a feeling was impossible to articulate. The auras made it so.

Instead, Hector merely felt that he needed to be more than even he himself thought he could be, right now. He needed to be the thing that Banda’s aura was searching for. Testing for.

He needed to be Darksteel.

There was no avoiding it. Banda Toro would know if he tried. And then, not long after, Bloodeye would know. So even if Banda left them alone, the next assault would come very swiftly--and be much, much worse than this.

At best, it would be a true siege. At worst, a total slaughter.

Yes. Hector felt certain of these things. Beyond certain, even. As if he had lived through such experiences before.

And so, to everyone else, it probably made little sense, what he was about to do. There was no opportunity to explain his thought process to them. Hell, even if there had been, he probably wouldn't have been able to. So he didn't try. He just turned back to the others behind him, to Roman Fullister and Joana Cortes.

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