The Bridge

(you used Miles again, are you sure you're not Miles)

Impromptu turned to the figure she had in her cloak. Weakly, he asked why she was helping him. In all honesty, she didn't really know either- but she couldn't really just leave him without an answer.

Her reply was cautiously put, but precise: "I am.. a Sorida. It would be a shame on the family name if I left you there for something as petty as theft."

A robed, distinctly asian man scooped up the injured puffball off of the floor and, after a nod of welcome to his niece, rushed off to one of the makeshift patient rooms upstairs. There, he and his daughter- a somewhat nervous looking teenaged girl in pure white priest's robes (who had been cleaning up there before he burst in)- set to work in removing the arrow.

The two wasted no time asking questions- rather, they hassled their patient with questions while swiftly doing their work. He was hardly conscious enough to answer any of them, and anyone observing would find that it'd be hard for even the most aware of people to reply at the speed they were going.

"Great Crystal, what happened to you?" Sora Benedixit, the young cleric, carefully gripped the arrow shaft and slid out the arrow, being sure not to disturb Stella Nutrix's effects. "I'm sure that shady looking guy who goes around has that magic pistol, not a bow... Who knows why he'd ever go after you though."

"I bet-" Kaito, Sora's father, sprinkled a strange powder mix over the newly exposed wound. It stung a little, but appeared to slow the bleeding to a mere trickle- as if it were a papercut. "He was unfortunate enough to walk by target practice for that archery competition going on downtown. My friend from Cor Fortuna- in all its irony- went there once, hehe."

"You said you didn't have any friends from Cor Fortuna though-"

"Precisely."

Downstairs, Impromptu tried to listen in on the chatter upstairs- it wasn't all that effective, considering her aunt was squeezing her like a plush doll. She worried though- if they accidentally shifted the angle of the arrow while removing it, that would have been bad... And she might have been a little rude earlier. But it was a little hard to think while she was being smothered by someone four times her height- the magus decided that perhaps it'd be better to put the idea to the side for the time being.

Kaito, after cleaning up the last traces of blood, patted his patient on the head.

"Hey there 'lil guy, you alright now?"

(I RP ON OTHERS SITES AS MILES)

The Kirby nodded slowly. "Y-yes...I feel better. Thank you so much..."

"All targets accounted for..." Deofol muttered to himself after looking around for a long enough time. "It's time to send her in."

Deofol raised up his hand and brought it down quickly summoning forth a sleek black ship which he dropped into. "I'll be back soon enough," Deofol thought. "Demini, let's get back to Graes Maroa, we have more business to attend to," Deofol said.

"You mean, you're just going to sit in your office looking important?" Demini asked.

"... You're joking..." Deofol said.

"Yeah... Yeah," Demini replied before flying off.

Jason only smirked as the swordsman could only stand back and raise his arms, putting on the face of a cold-blooded, remorseless murderer. In reality, though, he was mentally patting himself on the back; it wasn't often that he actually got to pull this trick. Ah well, at least he got to hear this guy try to talk him down.

Something was holding the swordsman's tongue down, though, of which Jason took note. He was about to say something, he knew, and he seemed like he had enough guts to spit out something, so why didn't he? Jason decided to bank on the prediction that hostage situations just outright scared this guy and capitalized on the moment.

In one swift movement, Jason pushed away his hostage towards the swordsman and jumped backwards, hoping that the hostage could distract the black-coated man and that he could disappear into the crowd quickly enough to make his getaway.

Or at least, he would have made it into the crowd, had not the exact same guy he was hunting crashed down right on him. He was just inches away from being outright crushed by the impact, but his side was grazed by a foot, causing him to roll in midair and make a hard landing on the ground, short of the edge between the clearing made by the crowd moving from the action. Though he was quickly able to recover into a combat-ready position, Equinox at ready, that didn't stop his side from hurting, and he wasn't as far or well-concealed from any of the three others as he would like. At the very least, he was the one with the gun.

Flint poised his left Baton towards the Assassin's face, meeting ends with his gun. He wasn't exactly at his mercy but the Gunman's position was only stronger than naught because of the gun. After a short moment Flint had taken a good glimpse of the man who'd tried to capture him earlier, almost succeeding.

"I never got a good look at you when I was running away- never realised my assailant actually looked pretty stylish!" Flint smirked, complimenting his near-killer, although it might be a little soon to say that, Flint wasn't out of the clear yet and still had a gun carefully poised towards him.

He looked at Ery behind him, in the Swordsman's care- only for a moment so that the Assailant wouldn't try anything, then returning his focus he placed the Batons back in their holsters.

"Alright then- let's strike a small deal and no one has to get themselves injured! If you tell me who sent you to "invite" me and where I'd be going then I'll come willingly, even if it is indeed KROSS like I'm expecting. If you refuse then I leave and you can bloomin' well sod off for all I care- try again and I won't be as merciful- I don't care what type of gun that is." He was careful in his mood to not mention his relationship to the girl he had taken hostage moments ago- besides it might be better for now if she stayed with the Swordsman rather than come with himself into what's most likely danger, despite how much he wanted her to tag along so he can be a show-off again.

Well, I'll be, remarked Jason internally as his target started up something cordial. Three against one wasn't exactly the best odds for him right now, even though he had the largest firepower; Jason figured that if this guy was giving him a chance to lower the tension a little bit, he might as well take it.

"Ain't nothin' special," Jason modestly noted about his outfit. "I don't have any real good clothes, so this is all I got." He briefly pulled off his cap and dusted it for good measure, but kept Equinox firmly in his hand.

"As for who's asking you over for tea and crumpets, I'm gonna be honest with you. I really don't know, either." He took out the request form he received the other day, the only fields filled being a sketch of the target and a monetary sum containing a several zeroes. After flashing it to the swordsman and his previous hostage, Jason handed it over to his target. "Hell, I don't even know your name. All I want is that big old cash sum, and man, I've been livin' out in the dumps long enough to do anythin' for that."

He then silently flipped a switch on Equinox before putting slight pressure on the trigger, a barely noticeable ball of crimson mana beginning to form at the barrel's end. "So like it or not, you're gonna have to come with me. Sorry buddy, but a guy's gotta have a decent meal every once in a while." Jason then motioned to the crowd behind him with a quick tilt of his head. "Though if you don't, I got a whole lot of bargaining power right behind me."

As an afterthought, he added, "What's that 'cross' thing you mentioned, anyway?"

Flint squinted behind that mask, it was a while since he'd been somewhere that wasn't knowledgable on KROSS's activity- but really they've only gotten as far as Limani, and even then they failed. Still with all the great Riot and Incineration of Downing Street it's surprising noone's at least heard of KROSS's name.

"KROSS: The King's Regiment of Superior Soldiers- once a Superhero group now a growing organisation with intentions of worldwide domination. Thankfully they didn't get very far last time but if they're trying again then I wouldn't be surprised if they already spotted me on my way here. They're the only party I can think of who'd want me in custody so it's more balance of probability I assume it's them- I doubt I'm of much interest to another group."

Flint looked again at the intimidating glare of the gun's barrel.

"oh do put that away you're drawing attention and embarrassing us all!" he said, sheathing his Batons.

-Rapier Forte-

A wavering breeze floated through the dock as a figure in a ragged cloak walks silently along.  There are strange objects jutting out from where his shoulders are, they move only slightly.  He darted and dodged along the crowd seemingly with a destination in mind.  As he turns round a corner after walking some distances he sees four figures which are marked red in his eyes only.

"Tch- too many of them together, even if they are fighting amongst each other... as it appears, I still won't have too much of an advantage over them... especially if they are already marked by someone from the Order..." he thought to himself before leaping up to the roofs and darting away.

"I'll need to find the others, so I can gauge who to eliminate first..."

-Lady Sophie Aurora-

"Warning: Unauthorized warping appeared in marked dimension, personnel should be dispatched to investigate," a monotonous voice announced quickly.

"Ugh... Sophie, you're up," a seemingly bored girl shouted as she looked up at a screen with a list of numbers and shapes.

"Understood, Normandy," Sophie, a tall woman in full armor, said as she got into a pod.

"Fasten your seatbelts, this one will be rough," Normandy said pulling levers and twisting knobs.

Sophie fastened various numbers of straps around her as the pod's door closed.

"Divergence in 3...2...1... Mark," Normandy said as the pod started sparking out electricity.

... A few moments later...

A quick breeze past through an alleyway as electric sparks sparked out of concrete.  Sophie appears and gets shot out at high speed across the alleyway.  She flips and lands softly on the ground.

"She wasn't kidding when she said rough landing," Sophie muttered looking around. A cloaked figure darted across her view.

"... That's definitely Rapier, it's best for me not to confront him yet, he's heading towards marked targets 112 and 113, they are together... it should be fine," Sophie thinks to herself.

Sophie turns out of the alleyway and walks towards a commotion. Moving around and pushing some people aside she walks right in-between a man holding a gun, a man putting away his batons, two people close together. She sees them all highlighted in yellow.

"... Oh, am I bothering a conversation?" she asked as she summoned out Huros (Sword) from thin air. She looked around not really looking at the people.

It was a cold Wednesday morning. With the shadows watching and a chill through the air, the day that gumshoe first strolled into the damned town was a dark one indeed...

Yeah, he liked the sound of that. A hardened man of the law, looking for his quarry, he was. Whether it was actually cold, or a Wednesday, or the morning, didn't really matter to him; it sounded better in his head like that.

Detective Darkmen stopped before the gates of the town, looking in; he wished he had counted the towns he had visited over the years. Would have been more interesting whenever he reached a new one. But alas, along with the rest of his long forgotten memories, he certainly couldn't count how many towns he'd passed through.

Oh, he doesn't have amnesia. A shame, too; that's a classic opening for the stranger in a new land. Nope, he didn't get so romantic a fate as that; he just kinda forgot where he came from as the years went by.

The Detective grabbed the bag attached to the end of his overcoat, whistling as he did so. The thing looked similar to a saddle bag (though the gumshoe's rather positive he's never owned a horse), maybe two feet wide and a foot deep. He reached into it, his arm disappearing into the black void that the bag contained, and reached around, feeling for his target. He pushed past several metal objects, a large stick, and perhaps a refrigerator of some sort, before making contact with the papery item he was searching for.

He had been out wandering for a long, long, time. Again, long enough he just sorta forgot why he started it in the first place, even the name of the guy he was sent to find. He kept going, though; didn't see any reason to stop doing what he's always done. Thankfully, he still knew what the outlaw looked like. Pulling the parchment from the innards of the bag, he unrolled it to see the picture of the criminal he was searching for, with the words WANTED emblazoned above it.

He sighed; the image was desperately worn out; despite having gotten the picture restored several times over his travels, it was still horribly faded and blurry in some places; the thing had even lost all color over time. Thankfully, the man he was searching for was quite distinctive, so the muddy picture served its purpose well enough.

Closing back up his bag and refastening it to his overcoat, the P.I. pulled down his hat a bit more, making sure to keep his face shaded from any onlooker. The investigator stopped whistling as he wondered why he'd always done that; did he used to be shy? Or maybe he was going for mysterious? Regardless, it was too well burned into his ways to do anything about now.

Checking over his back once to make sure no unwelcome guests had followed him, he stepped into the town. Yeah, his life got sort of boring sometimes, searching for a nameless man across the land over the years. That's why he enjoyed keeping up his inner monologue; it helped spice things up, made him feel like a real detective.

Pulling his overcoat in a bit tighter to shield him from the cold morning air, he walked into the dank town, a detective looking for answers. He searched the riff raff of the streets until he found the least criminal face he could find, a difficult task in such a backwater place. The street lights blazed as the silent detective approached the scruffy citizen. Raising his gloved hand, he held up the picture of the villainous scum he had been sent to find, his old nemesis across the years.

With the stone cold voice of a man of the law, Detective Darkmen asked, "Excuse me, have you seen this knight?"

In his hand, the picture of a large, armored man with a horned helmet was shown, the dastardly figure wielding a sword and shield and with the piercing eyes of a killer.

Seven walked about. It had been long since he left Lyrenstag, to which he had retreated to oversee the goals as the last of the Numbereds.

Nearby was a city. He knew he was heading there, and that trouble awaited him. With his nanotranser malfunctioning, much of his arsenal was unavailable. Nimbly turning a walnut between his fingers, Seven sighed, and turned towards Cor Lumina.

Reaching up and back, he tapped the device at the base of his neck, summoning his Battle Verge. Staff in hand, Seven hunched over slightly, putting his weight on it - selling his looks as an old man, weary from travel. He had no issue entering Cor Lumina.

Following instinct, he comes across something. A commotion being interrupted by a woman with swords.

"Mission acquired, I suppose. Protect."

The words were whispered. Still playing his illusion of a tired old man, he hobbled over to one who seemed to be summoning swords.

"I cannot be sure what business you have, but it would seem the one is putting his weapons away, young one. Are you quite sure you must summon such weapons?" Pitching a bit of quaver in to his voice, Seven calmly addressed the young-looking woman. "It would put a bad taste in my mouth to open hostilities so soon."

While his stance did not alter, Seven had shifted his weight from leaning on his Battle Verge. Though it could not be heard, there was a minor edge to his voice.

Perchance he didn't betray it, but several options were ready.

While I have yet only stepped across her threshold, already the fruits of Cor Lumina seek combat. Will the young of the world not learn?

"Wha-?"

Utterly stricken, Aquinas rapidly extended a hand to check the scarred figure's neck. "No pulse... Dammit." Brimming with anger and annoyance, the would-be interrogator began to search the man's clothing. "Not amusing."

As if only just acknowledging the quizzical vicar, Aquinas waved a dismissive hand. "His crimes? Need-to-know basis, you know the rules. Well actually, no you don't - those are need-to-know too." After flashing a sarcastic smile, he seemed to find what he was looking for, because he slipped a pair of barely visible objects into his coat, stood with an air of showmanship, and addressed the crowd.

"Sorry to bother you fine folks. Just a little intertemporal justice - nothing to write home about. So uh," his voice lowered, taking on a subtle but unmistakable edge, "Don't write home about it." With a final, friendly grin, he flicked a small gray device onto the dead man. "Adios, amigos." And before anyone could comment on the lack of a convincing accent, both the corpse and the stranger had disappeared in a flash.


Aquinas flicked dust off his coat as he strolled down the city thoroughfare, taking in the sights. The unexpected demise of his target had left him in a sour mood, but the chipper time-traveler was quick to recover. There were places to go, drinks to be sampled, women to sweep off their-

"Excuse me, have you seen this knight?"

As Aquinas looked up from his ponderings, he could hardly suppress a smirk as he surveyed the speaker's features. Well, what he could see of the speaker's features - the man's wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow that obscured his face.

Everything else about the man just screamed "noir", almost to the point of parody. Aquinas valiantly fought the urge to make a pun about detecting a hint of Bogart influence as he answered the man's query.

"Hmmm, can't say I have. Then again, I'm just a traveler passing through. How 'bout yourself, fella?"

The two clerics left their injured visitor to rest after they had finished patching up his injuries, letting him know that he's free to leave whenever he's ready. Before she had closed the door though, Sora stopped and turned, wondering for a brief moment if he was going to do any harm to the house.

If something did happen, the whole family was there.. Even then, it was a little unsettling to house a thief.

"...In case we don't get to see you leave, um.. Take care."



Cor Lumina Central

7:00 PM, Winter Festival

A lanky figure tugs at the collar of his crisp suit as he surveys Cor Lumina from the rooftops. Finding it somewhat hard to observe the crowds at this time of day wearing shades, he pulls them down just an inch to be greeted by a wonderful display of lights. Lanterns were strung between buildings, leaving the stars somewhat difficult to see from down below- a myriad of kiosks lined the streets, selling a variety of exotic goods. The scents that wafted through the air brought tourists and citygoers alike out of their homes and into the streets, a low hum hovering overhead.

This was Cor Lumina's Winter Festival, an annual gathering celebrating the year's hard work as well as the good wishes for its endurance through the coming months; possibly the town's most anticipated event, it brought near hundreds in through the ports.

'And just enough to make the elixir...' A slender hand came up to pull the shades back up, just in time to hide the darkness about to cross his face. 'Here's hoping the population is dense enough for me to do this quickly.'

He didn't know how much time he had left... The body he found at the Cathedral was an omen, and more worrisome was that his Time Gears were not with it- he couldn't possibly have lost them beforehand, so someone must have looted his.. 'Egh. Either someone's running around with some very dangerous tools, or they've caught up with me... Wonder who they sent this time?'

He would have to work quickly. But.. quietly.

And he did just that; as he waved his hand in a wide arc, a slight chill came in from the far east. It wouldn't be noticable to those in central for a few hours, but he knew the east was feeling more immediate results...

A single, bright blue sphere appeared in front of him to prove it- slowly growing.


"Call them here... Don't worry, we can make room! Somewhere."

"Can we get an extra cot or something? We're running out of- ah, thank you.."

"Where's the... Mama! We need water for this one, he's..!"

The medical office on Oracle Avenue hadn't seen this many visitors in ages.. The clerics were rushing about, tending to an ever growing number of comatose patients- from what Impromptu had collected, people were dropping all over the place for no apparent reason. But there was a reason for everything, was there?

'There has to be...' She took a worried glance at the patient she had been treating- a number of spells have been cast on them, nothing really working. In a moment of frustration, she almost slammed her fist on their chest, but in doing so noticed an odd absence about them..


Forgetting to check on the patient she had taken in that morning, Impromptu pulled her cloak over her head and took off into the streets.  Only now did she notice the chill in the air, but she marched through, clutching her coat of arms in her right hand. The other hand was held out to her side, ready to snap into position and grab her trident if something came up.

'Souls! A soul, just.. gone! I hope I'm wrong about this, and that person was the only one... It's spreading fast, though..'

She decided it was time to look into this.



The Bridge: Night Phase

Spoiler:

If someone were gazing over the sea at that time, they'd see it; it was flying slowly over the calm waves under the limited light coming off the moon. That humanoid carrying the double-tipped spear. This was a new thing for Atmos Andrew Alae, flying over seas. His wings beat against the cold wind

"I'm here: Cor Lumina. I'm sure of it," said Atmos.

He heard festive sounds coming from ahead. That made him smile for a brief moment, but the smile was gone as soon as it came. With another solid swoop of the wings, he rose up into the air and prepared to land on docks of the Port Town. He carried his spear in a non-threatening manner (Which is difficult for spear-wielders) and started walking up the platform to the town.

A lack of reaction. Seven realized something was malfunctioning.

"Dammit, Ten. You could have escaped...You could have lived longer, and fixed this damn thing!"

Even as he spoke, nobody heard him. The figures were frozen around. Reaching in to the neck of his suit, Seven withdrew the Tenth Timepiece.

"Of course..."

The gem-built Hands of the Timepiece had stopped, and were quivering slightly.

"...I'm displaced."

Sighing, Seven left the area. The only cure for displacement like this was to wait it out....

An unknown amount of time passed. Or, perhaps, would pass.

"Damn. Is it ever going to end?" Seven spoke without really addressing anyone. There was little else he could do.

Time continued to pass around him. It must have been hours to those outside it. To such people, he had simply vanished in plain sight--

A glimmer at the edge of his vision.

"Finally..."

Seven rocked to his feet as the unnatural haze of Temporal Displacement ended. The Tenth Timepiece began to hum lightly, and the Hands aligned themselves with the proper time.

It was after dusk; Night had fallen..as had several people.

"An interesting case. Perhaps..."

Moving with the slow, careful grace of one who knows much, Seven checked a fallen woman for wounds. Nothing marked her skin. No blood trickled.

"...Megid? No...no, I doubt that. Who could cast the ultimate Dark Technic? Surely, I am the only Hunter here..."

Speaking to himself, Seven stood. Something was amiss.

"Perhaps if I..."

Reaching up, he taps the base of his neck, several times. Multiple items fall, and Seven seizes a small capsule.

Tossing it in to the air, the capsule bursts. Golden-white rings descend from the breaking point, blanketing the fallen woman and a few others nearby. There is no reaction.

"Moon Atomizers don't work on them, then? Either the technology that made these is too far ahead to affect the biology present..."

Seven didn't speak the other possibility aloud...though he did think it. "...Or someone has done worse than merely kill these people."

Straightening, Seven looks about, attempting to locate a source - yet nothing was forthcoming. He shook his head and raised his voice...

"Ilmas, orna pra tyl sutu! Par lona, mit nelm! Perchance we might discuss why you would harm these people?"

As he spoke, a wind was sent to spread the words across the city. High on the winds, too - it would not do for every commonfolk in the street to hear his words. Seven had invoked the Tongue of the Numbereds as an extra measure to pique curiosity; While not inherently dangerous, he certainly did not need a crowd.

A person walked alone, on the dead streets of eastern Cor Lumina. Well, maybe less dead and more unconscious. Warps wasn't sure, and didn't particularly care, either. But if whatever was doing this could put up a decent fight, then they were pretty interested. So, this in mind, they didn't bother to cover their... demonocity, for lack of a better term. Their pointed black horns were fully visible, as were their bright golden irises, the whites of their eyes colored black. A stereotypical demon's tail twitched back and forth behind them in a natural manner, following the momentum of Warps's steps. A loose, silky white button-up shirt covered their upper torso and arms, while a sleek pair of black dress pants covered their lower torso and legs; a pair of also-black high-heels held it all together.

As Warps walked, the crystal clear goblet in their left hand refilled with wine, and was brought to their lips. Their boredom seemed palpable; if they didn't run into something soon, they'd probably just go back home. They turned one more corner, prepared to give up hope, when they saw some silver-haired dude standing around some unconscious people, and decided that hey, maybe they had found the villain after all. Completely ignoring whatever the dude was saying, mostly out of drunkenness - the first part was gibberish, so the rest probably would be, too - Warps stepped out of the metaphorical shadows, high heels clacking on hard ground. Their tail now took to a slower wag, like a cat about to pounce, and their grin bared frighteningly sharp teeth.

"Hey, now. I have... shero pershent undershtanding of what you jusht... shaid, but I am one hundred pershent sure that you were putting shome kinda cultisht shpell on theshe.... poor, innoshent... people. Yeah. Let'sh fight."

...It should also be noted that Warps was, at this point, incredibly and obviously drunk. Their cheeks were rosier than roses, for christsake. This was further made obvious by their immediate tripping upon attempting to adopt a fighting pose. Their wine glass somehow managed to not shatter, but the wine itself fared less well, spilling out of the goblet and onto the ground. Warps just groaned; rather than even attempting to get up, they just opted to wait for the alcohol to work its way out of their system. It might take a while.

-Lady Sophie Aurora-

"I apologize for interrupting this conversation... Perhaps it would be better if all of you could ignore me for a moment."

Lady Aurora scanned the surrounding area for any signs of Rapier. Seeing no signature that was similar to Rapier she looked at the situation she was actually in. She walked to the other side of the street with her sword in hand past people who moved aside from her.

"I lost him..." she said, though no one could hear her.

-Rapier Forte-

"Dimension and time disturbance detected."

"Tch- So an Order member has arrived... this time disturbance though... intriguing, the subject causing it is a target?"

"Yes."

"Hmph... I'll lay low until I can see everyone."

"They'll be together then, it'll give you a distinct disadvantage."

"We'll see doctor."

-Lady Sophie Aurora-

Sophie walked around for a while until she found a safe empty alleyway to lay low in.

"Beviorce... Activate."

The crystal that was attached to the armor in front of her chest shone slightly and floated out to the middle of the alleyway. It expanded until it had a large enough hole to fit Sophie in completely. She walked in to the hole and the crystal enclosed her completely.

"Begin direct communications and burrowing."

The crystal gleamed and sank down through the ground so that the alleyway was again empty.

"Lady Aurora reporting in, the time frame is going according to what it's suppose to... I accidentally ran into a few of the targets, but did not do too much to alter the frame. I will wait until a better time to find Rapier Forte."

"Understood," Deofol's voice came on.

-A few hours later-

Night has come along, and a chilling breeze swept across the "deserted" alleyway.

-Lady Sophie Aurora-

The crystal sprang back up and Sophie stepped out of it. The crystal shrank until it was the same size as it was before and floated back in place.

"I'll have to find him now... this is the critical point."

-Rapier Forte-

Rapier was eating some wafer and drinking some oil near the port when he saw people spontaneously falling down.

"It's time..." he muttered.

He scarfed down the last of his food and the strange humps behind his shoulder drop down to reveal two slightly curved blades. He stretches out and the worn out cloak is sliced apart.

"She'll be alone now."

He began running to a small round pinkish being that was highlighted in yellow in his vision.

"One," he muttered darkly closing the distance between him and the kirby.

With the words still leaving his lips, Seven caught the sound of someone walking on the brick roads. The distinctive clack of heels.

"One unaffected? Perchance...But I cannot toss the possibility it's a foe."

His thoughts stopped him from turning yet. If it were a combatant, his turning might trigger a fight he would otherwise have avoided.

On the other hand, if it were just a civilian who happened to be resistant to the effects of...whatever this was, it would do no good to look them in the eye. There would be questions.

A drunken, lisping voice reached Seven's hears. He turned when the sound of a body falling managed to follow this...

And was greeted with something clearly not quite human.

"I'd heard that demons and their spawn had a love of wine. It's made the job of killing a few quite easy - you see, your kin are much like humans, and cannot fight while drunk."

Seven looked at the demonic figure with disdain.

"As to casting any sort of spell on these people, only if they were to attack me first, and it would be something much more lethal than idle conversation. The Sage's Tongue is only a language, to itself. The only other thing I use it for is my singing."

He considered demonstrating, but there were too many innocent ears that might pick up his song. Unconscious or not, their bodies would recognize the pain.

"If you wish to fight me, I'd advise waiting until you can stand without assistance, and then checking if you're doing this out of revenge. You wouldn't be the first one to leave other planes to attack me over the demons that lie dead."

Reaching up, Seven tapped his Nanotranser again, materializing his Battle Verge and holding it with both hands.

"But if it's a fight you want, I can hardly stop you from trying your hand, nor prevent the risk that you might ignore my advice. I am here on business for the late Ninth Necromancer, but I have all the time in the world."

It might have gone unnoticed, but Seven's voice caught slightly at the mention of Nine. His gaze, however, remained hard and steady, locked on the figure before him.

Warps's crystal glass disappeared in a flash of orange sparks, and they themselves stirred a bit as if to get up. Instead, they seemed to give up after a few seconds, content to speak into the ground.

"Mmhmhmph."

Well, that clearly didn't work. Their tail dug into the ground next to them, giving them the leverage to at least roll over. They wiped the dust off their face before proceeding:

Man, you're talkin', like, way too much for me to understand anything right now, sho I'm just gonna... yeah. Sh'all..."

The rest of whatever Warps was trying to say was reduced to mumbles and grumbles, until a vial of mint-green liquid appeared in their hand. This was, after a slight hesitation, poured down their throat, after which they made a somewhat disgusted face and rubbed their head a little.

"Bleugh. I need to stop drinking while I'm trying to actually do things...."

Suddenly, they began to harshly stare into Seven's eyes, almost as if Warps was looking down on him from the throne of their castle, despite their current position on the ground. Crossing their arms indignantly, they less 'asked' and more 'commanded':

"Right. Who are you, again?"

The stranger gave his reply to the gumshoe's query. It appeared the fella hadn't seen anyone of the kind, a not uncommon response. Still, this land needed justice, someone to take that armored scum off the city streets. And he was just the man for the job.

Grabbing a cigarette and lighter from his Bag, the P.I. had a smoke as he replied to the stranger, "Yup, I'm a travelling man myself. Name's Darkmen. Detective Darkmen, Private Eye. I've been travelling from town to town as long as I can remember. See a lot of stuff out there, walkin' those dusty trails. Kinda things that change a man." He took a drag from his cigarette, the light managing not to illuminate his face. He always told himself to quit these things, but in a life like his, sometimes he just needed a smoke.

The gumshoe reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, rusty pocketwatch, it immediately falling out of his hand and forcing him to unceremoniously scramble down to catch it. He just managed to snatch it before hitting the ground, though his cigarette went flying in the process. Muttering a silent curse as he dusted himself off, Darkmen looked back up at the stranger and sighed. "Heh heh, sorry about that, I'm uh, a bit clumsy at times," he said, his voice lacking its previous confidence, "Anyway, just arrived here myself. Heard about this place having some sort of Festival, so I figured it was as good a place as any to come check out."

He checked the watch. Seemed it was starting to get late, probably be a good idea to find somewhere to stay for the night after asking a few more people. Suddenly remembering his manners, Darkmen reached into his Bag of Void and began fumbling about, pulling out several random objects and throwing them behind him (including a rather large snowglobe, which proceed to burst into pieces upon hitting the ground), before finally retrieving a glass bottle filled with some fluid. Opening the bottle and giving the substance a whiff, he offered, "Here, want a drink? It's probably not poisonous."

Seven stared steadily back at the demon. He had heard his words, and noted the tonic, but the tone change afterwards was something he could hardly fail to notice.

"I am the Seventh Sage, here under business of the departed Ninth Necromancer."

Seven paused briefly.

"Usually, when I find myself running an errand pertaining to that title, something dead or demonic has found cause to bar my path. I asked you if you were only attempting so because of demons that now lie dead due to my actions - revenge of some variety."

His gaze became a glare in return.

"If not, I suggest you step out of my path. I have no need of violence when it may be avoided. If so, let's have it out now, so that I may get on with my business."

The fan-like edge of the Battle Verge shone with a little more intensity as Seven moved it to waist height, angling it forwards like a lance. He was quite prepared to skewer this man and be done with it, if need be.

"Word of advice, as well - mind your manners. Though it is possible I have slain ones related to you directly, it is also true that millions owe their continued existence on this planet to my actions. Rare is it that I demand one be polite, but I find my temper short of late."

The crimson-coated mercenary shoved his hostage abruptly towards the black swordsman, clearly expecting him to stop on the spot and catch her or some such nonsense. Instead, Meta took an instant to analyze his situation. Taking note of the rapidly-descending object at the top of his peripheral vision, he quickly estimated the time before the falling man could drive his weapons into the gunman's head.
He didn't even have to attack.
Not releasing his focus on the gunman, he stepped forward, stopping the ex-hostage's stumbling and pushing her behind him in one fluid move. At the same time, the swordsman's blade came up to an aggressive stance, leveled at the gunman as if Meta were about to lunge. The crimson-coated mercenary started to leap back, leveling his strange pistol...
Only to be clipped by his descending ex-target, a two-handed strike just barely avoiding crushing Redcoat's skull. In the time before the mercenary could right himself, Meta was beside the man in the overcoat, simultaneously keeping an eye on the mercenary, the ex-hostage, and Redcoat's ex-target. Leveling his black longsword, he prepared for hostilities to resume, again allowing a bit of blazing energy to run through the Circuit inside himself.
What the...
Rather than pressing his advantage as the swordsman had expected, the ex-target instead sheathed his weapons and started talking.
"I never got a good look at you when I was running away - never realised my assailant actually looked pretty stylish!" Overcoat said with a smirk. Meta groaned internally - of course the one he'd tried to save was a comedian.
"Alright then... let's strike a small deal, and no one has to get themselves injured! If you tell me who sent you to 'invite' me and where I'd be going, then I'll come willingly, even if it is indeed KROSS like I'm expecting. If you refuse, then I leave and you can bloomin' well sod off for all I care. Try again and I won't be as merciful - I don't care what type of gun that is."
"Ain't nothin' special," the mercenary replied, surprising the black swordsman. "I don't have any real good clothes, so this is all I got. As for who's asking you over for tea and crumpets, I'm gonna be honest with you. I really don't know, either."
Pulling out a half-completed request form, he flashed it around. Meta caught only a rough sketch of Overcoat's features and a large monetary sum before Redcoat flipped it around and handed it to his ex-target.
"Hell, I don't even know your name. All I want is that big old cash sum, and man, I've been livin' out in the dumps long enough to do anythin' for that."
Leveling his pistol again, the mercenary continued as a grim crimson light began to shine around the tip of the barrel.
"So like it or not, you're gonna have to come with me. Sorry buddy, but a guy's gotta have a decent meal every once in a while. Though if you don't -" here Redcoat gestured behind himself with his offhand, keeping his strange weapon leveled at Overcoat "- I got a whole lot of bargaining power right behind me."
He had almost been pulled into the joviality before, relaxing his stance ever so slightly, but now Meta tensed once again.
I won't let him. He won't - he can't - walk away after this...!
Even as he barely restrained himself from launching out of his stance to slice Redcoat's arm off, the mercenary's ex-target sheathed his batons and prepared to hand himself in. Meta prepared to speak up and stop the situation there -
"...Oh, am I bothering a conversation?"
Like that, a strange phrase from a strange new arrival brought the negotiations to a halt. Casually stepping directly in between Redcoat and his target as if she couldn't see the firearms pointed straight through her, the new arrival drew a sword seemingly from nowhere, glancing around the square.
The first thing Meta noticed was the armor. Multicolored armor with an almost crystalline texture plated the arrival's body from head to toe, somehow managing to avoid hindering the newcomer's movements in the process. As the black swordsman watched, the arrival pulled a gleaming blade from thin air, acting as if she hadn't a care in the world. Something about her (he thought the new arrival was a "her," at any rate) set him on edge, for some reason...
Meta did not relax his stance even slightly for the several tense seconds that the crystalline arrival stood there in silence. The tension was only broken by another voice, this one much more frail.
"I cannot be sure what business you have, but it would seem the one is putting his weapons away, young one. Are you quite sure you must summon such weapons?"
The latest voice quavered slightly as its owner hobbled out of the crowd, leaning on a staff. Bent over with age, the old man who approached continued to nonchalantly lecture the crystalline woman as if he in turn couldn't see the bared steel and leveled firearms.
"It would put a bad taste in my mouth to open hostilities so soon," the old man concluded, shifting his weight back a little. Shifting his focus so he could track everyone else in the situation, Meta found himself taking note of the old man's stance. For some reason, something in it suggested the quiet strength and willpower of a warrior sage - Meta wasn't sure, but he suspected that this man was more than he seemed.
His suspicion was more or less confirmed when the man vanished without warning or trace, exiting the scene in a much less mundane way than the one in which he'd entered. After repeated interruptions by seemingly random bystanders, Meta's only reaction to the sudden disappearance was a rapid blink. For the same reason, he was hardly any more surprised when the crystal-armored woman decided to take her leave as well mere moments later.
"I apologize for interrupting this conversation... Perhaps it would be better if all of you could ignore me for a moment."
All four remaining combatants seemed to be slightly dazed by the utterly confusing and nonsensical turn of events, as a long moment was spent in confused silence. Meta recovered first, stepping forward and interposing his sword between the leveled gun and his own body. The steel and fire were back in his eyes as he stared the gunman down, facing a firearm with only himself and his blade.
"You've risked the lives of innocents for no purpose but your own gain. Put the gun down and hand yourself in now."
Hardly expecting the man to comply, Meta opened his circuits and allowed power to flow...

"So the dastard just wants money..." Flint thought to himself, sadly this guy's blown up all his stuff, even the spare batteries for the treasured Gameboy Advance. The deal was if this guy knew then he'd go along with him to KROSS, but despite the Mercenary's little sob story this wasn't going to persuade him to give himself up after all. "Yeah I got to eat too, man. Life's tough but it doesn't mean you have to make a living off of other people's misfortunes." He complained in his mind. But seeing the ransom sheet he realised that this wasn't at all KROSS's plan.

Returning to the current events, what with the sudden appearance and disappearance of random people, and the Swordsman now weighing in, suddenly taking a higher role, attempting to apprehend the Crimson coated Mercenary, sword poised and hand glowy with unfamiliar powers.

Having already put away his batons he drew one of his forth again to side with the Swordsman against the mercenary, albeit somewhat awkwardly as if to impress someone and then muck it up on account of trying.

"Deal's a deal, and you don't know who they are, so to re-iterate the words of-" he looked over his shoulder holding the baton to glance at the swordsman next to him as if he'd learn his name all of a sudden- but this isn't fire Emblem or anything so he continued "-this guy... Yeah! um... You're nicked!" Which sounded better than it was going to actually work out. This Mercenary was hardened to pressure but so was Flint (and presumably the other guy.) Though Flint's slurred speech didn't exactly help add any pressure.

"What the hell, 15 minutes into Cor Lumina and already I'm about to be kidnapped... or make a fool of myself." he lamented. Once again, in his mind.

Warps was more than a little upset by the way this conversation was turning out. This type of arrogance annoyed them the most; demanding politeness and pointing weapons in the same breath, like they honestly had some kinda authority. Sure, they themselves could be kinda arrogant, sometimes, and sure, they pointed weapons and stuff. But only when they were offended. Which only happened on extreme occasions, like this. Warps's annoyance was made obvious by the transformation of their glare into an indignant sneer, as they crossed their arms in front of them.


"Am I supposed to feel threatened? You say you've slain my kin - really, as though all demons are family, as though our populations are so small that we all even know eachother. I could care less how many of my kind you've killed. Do you warn every human you come across that you've killed some of theirs? I doubt it."


Warps, as if by magic, flipped from their prone position on the ground backwards - their tail had pushed against the ground to perform this feat - and, whilst in the air, flashes of fire changed their clothes again. Once they landed, there was no clacking of heels, but the stomping of boots. Warps's ambiguously gendered body was covered by a red button-up shirt with black floral patterns, while their lower half was wrapped in tight salmon-colored jeans. Standing straight, their head tilted back as they spoke, still evoking a sense of superiority.


"Bite your tongue, knave. You speak to the heir to the throne of Pride; your voice has signed your death warrant. Cut it out of your throat, and perhaps I'll spare your life."


Okay, Warps might have been exaggerating. In a few ways. One, they were one of many possible heirs to the throne of Pride, and two, they probably wouldn't kill this dude if he didn't cut out his voice box or tongue or whatever. Really, an apology would probably be enough. Well, maybe they'd make him grovel a little. Or a lot. In the end, though, the old man (well, Warps was probably older, but whatever) could most likely leave without any injuries whatsoever, if he really, really wanted to. But Warps only grinned as they thought about how he probably didn't.

Seven's lips curled briefly at the scathing remark against all demons being kin, but waited for the man to finish before speaking.

"No, I do not greet all humans as kin. That would be difficult, as I am not fully human. However...I do share half my lineage with them. Just as you share some of yours with demons, I'd imagine."

The curling vanished, and his features hardened. His face appeared as tough and chiseled as stone.

"On the flipside of this, no matter what you are heir to, you are of no threat. Challenging to battle, perhaps...yet you will not be a threat. I also have no true interest in battling you - if you wish for a fight, then make your move."

Seven's hardened gaze once again became a full-on glare.

"Know this, however - I have no delusions of heroism. I would only fight you if absolutely necessary, and I will not mind if some fall around me. There is nothing this world has not already taken from me that a few more deaths may steal away. If you value having the number of limbs you do, I personally advise you to stand down. There are some fights you cannot win."

With this, he flourished his Battle Verge. Spikes of crystal erupted in a rough circle around his feet, angling outwards. A pair of floating flames began to orbit the inner perimeter of the crystal, while a trail of ice began to snake around the outer. Tendrils of wind began to stir around Seven himself, encasing him in a defensive pillar.

"Come then, you arrogant demon. Face my blade and magic."

Thoughts, reminiscent of days gone by, danced in his head. He had regressed mildly in to his war days.

At the same moment, a different strain of thoughts argued with the first.

"How unlike me. I cannot see the point in threatening this one, you know. It would be wiser to escape, go about my business, and leave..."

Despite the warring thoughts, Seven was prepared to dismember this one, should it come to a fight.

He really was quite ready.

The few steps Atmos took were enough for him. He didn't feel like taking another step. So he didn't. He unfurled his wings yet again and beat down against the wind. Then again, and then he was up in the air flapping up into the mast of a docked vessel. That's where he perched after balanced himself with a few more flaps of his wings... so he could rest his wings.

"Oh man," Huff...Huff... "that burns..." He groaned softly to himself between panting. That's when he heard the indecipherable words loudly cast on the wind. Or perhaps they were whispers that he picked up with his sharp senses. Whichever it was, he heard it clear as day.

Huff... "We'll go check it out when my wings aren't sore..." They'd be sore for days, and he knew that, but he would've gotten up in seconds if it weren't night.

The youth was silhouetted against the moonlight. His large wings made up most of the shape. To say the least, he wasn't invisible.

"And so I'm finally here in Cor Lumina," he said, looking around at the docks, "I can see no shortage of people in need of help." He frowned. There in the dark was a cloaked figure, or at least, he was cloaked until the figure diced it with his hidden blades. Then Atmos realized the potential danger he was in (being in sight of a seemingly hostile figure dual-wielding blades of doom).

"Don't mind me," whispered Atmos Alae as he scooted behind the main beam of the mast whilst using his wings for balance, "I'm only an avian humanoid trying to rest."

He didn't take into account that his wings were jutting out like flags as he balanced on the beam. At least until he was behind the mast, then he folded them until he was nearly invisible. Atmos then hoped that the potential threat didn't have a bow.

Then he heard more shouting. Someone else was shouting now and they sounded angry.

Huff... All Atmos did was cling to the mast with his spear vertically held in place, the pole of the arm pressed between his front and the mast.

"Suppose I'll go see whatever that was after this one departs."

Jason has originally thought it was a lack of sleep that was causing him to see things, like the woman with the sword teleporting from out of nowhere and the old dude walk by them. At that moment, though, he felt something was just off, like somebody had just set off a nuclear bomb of a magic spell nearby. It already felt to him like a big fat wave of mana just hit him in the face, and given how... weak he tended to be when it came to taking magic attacks, staying out in the open might not be the best of ideas.

Looking at the situation, Jason gave a small grimace. He did have one major objection to retreating, though, and that was that he still didn't have his target in cuffs yet. There wasn't any way in hell that he was going to let them get away just like that, at least not without taking advantage of the current situation. He'd have to do some improvisation here.

"You know what," Jason began, hoping the others would pause to ere what he had to say, "maybe next time." Immediately after finishing that sentence, Jason flipped backwards, pointing Equinox at the three others and releasing the trigger. A flash of pellets of mana, each only strong enough to inflict a punch's worth of force, fired from the gun's barrel and barraged the targets, several hitting the ground with each second. The point was to stop the three in their tracks, and maybe score an actual injury on one of them if two of the mana bullets hit the same spot. That way, he'd have ample time to escape and figure out a more permanent way to track the target. Such as, say, nailing him with actual lead and forcing him to get medical attention, where he could then abduct him. That actually might work, crazy as it is, he thought to himself.

Speaking of esape, that backfkip should have put him pretty neatly within the crowd, which was still relatively close to them. Instead of. Immediately turning his back and running, he simply waited for a chance to strike, keeping his head down to prevent his hat from standing out too much.

"You know what, maybe next time."
Anticipating the direction gunman's next action from the tone of his voice, Meta grimaced.
The instant Redcoat leapt backward, Meta launched forward as well, blasting straight into Redcoat's attacks with his sword at the ready.
I can definitely parry one bullet of that caliber with my sw - wait, what?
Instead of the single attack he was expecting, Meta found himself facing a barrage of energy blasts, all aimed directly his way. He faltered for an instant so short it was hardly noticeable, but forced himself to keep moving.
Stepping forward into his opponent's attacks, the man in the black coat swung his sword. Three tight, controlled slashes knocked aside or dispersed the majority of Redcoat's first barrage of attacks - despite his best efforts, however, Meta still took powerful blasts to the shoulder, hip, and thigh. He winced, expecting to be crippled after this was over, but the attacks weren't nearly as strong as actual lead.
Shrugging off the hits he'd taken despite the fact that his body protested, Meta kept moving forward, staying within melee range of the gunman. Before Redcoat could hit the ground or launch a second barrage of attacks, the black swordsman swung his sword, aiming to cleave limb or weapon free of its owner...!

A lone, green-clad figure walks through the streets on the western side of Cor Lumina, unaware of the horrible tragedy occurring in the very same city. Mirkwood had always loved wandering through the side streets of Cor Lumina during the Winter Festival. The decorations and lights always lifted his mood. Of course, due to his occupation, he couldn't be in the area every year, but he often made an effort to experience the mood that was unique to the city at that time. There was another reason for his being there, which was archery contest earlier that day. He hadn't quite won first place, but placed a close second. It was all for the better anyway. Where would he put a large trophy anyway? He traveled light, and it would slow him down until he could put it somewhere. The medal he received was much smaller, and more practical for traveling with.

It was as he was walking down these streets that he overheard the story of the unconscious- or possibly dead- citizens and tourists in the city. They were just going about their lives and they had suddenly fallen. At first Mirkwood ignored it, not really registering in his mind the message the words he heard carried. It was only when he understood the importance and urgency of the speech that he reacted.

"What did you just say? Repeat what you said about unconscious people."
"I said that people have been falling to the ground like there's some wave of invisible stuff knocking them out! It was crazy, and I probably barely got away in time. Maybe."
"Where did this happen?"
"Over to the western part of town, sorta by the port. Wait, where are ya going?"

Mirkwood had already left, running off along the street.
"I've got to see what this is. It could be a rumor told as a joke, or the ramblings of some confused tourist, but considering the man's attitude, I doubt it. But what could have caused this? I doubt it was some sort of knockout gas, so it is probably some sort of magic. But who could have enough power to knockout an entire city in a wave? Perhaps I'll find some answers soon."
It was as he was thinking this that he passed the first of the limp bodies. At first he almost didn't notice them, as they were few and often off to the side. It was only when there was one in his path that he fully realized that he was in an already affected area. He looked around. There were several bodies just lying around, as if they had suddenly collapsed in the middle of whatever they were doing, which in fact, they did.

Mirkwood examined one of the collapsed figures, and checked for vital signs. To which he found... something. A faint pulse, but it was slowly fading into silence. This definitely wasn't good. He could try to revive the person through medical means, but what good would that do? He could maybe save or prolong a few lives, but what good would that do? There were many others who would die. There must be a source to this, and he was determined to find it. But first he had to go see some healers who could help.

As he was nearing Oracle Avenue, he noticed a small, round, cloaked figure running in the direction opposite him. Not only that, but they were running with purpose. His steps slowed to a stop. An intelligent creature that has a goal. Perhaps they know something about this. As the figure neared, he called out to them.
"You there! Would you mind telling me where you're going and what you know, if anything, about this situation that befallen Cor Lumina?"

Impromptu, in her hustle, didn't notice the ominous figure following her- normally she would, but her focus was on the path ahead. In fact, she almost considered ignoring the voice that had broken Eastern Cor Lumina's silent air; she wasn't the type to leave people in the dark if they asked for her knowledge, though- however rarely that may have occured. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to locate the source of the voice and pulled the Winter Veil out of her face so she could address them properly.

"Not at all..." The magus stepped into the light of a nearby lamppost. "I don't know very much about it myself, but farther east, people have been going unconscious rather frequently. Now, er.. I'm not entirely sure why, but I did a little inspection on a patient they had at the nearby infirmary, and..."

Now she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to divulge her discovery- if it was wrong, then the green-clad boy she was addressing might freak out and cause a ruckus. The last thing she wanted was to misguide anyone. But she was already in the middle of a sentence...

"I.. think they were missing their soul."

Expecting a hint of confusion, she began to elaborate. "See- I studied magic for many years, and I've learned how the soul attracts mana, supernatural energy, and also how it generates a sort of special warmth in the bodies of those who possess them." She took a nervous glance down a nearby alley, where she spotted a fallen figure on the other side- "The people here are starting to become unnaturally cold. The body itself produces warmth, but... the life-energy normally present in any body, no matter how healthy, is just.. gone."

"In simpler terms, I believe the cold wind washing over the town is taking human souls somewhere. Now, as for where I'm going-" She turned away from the boy, and pointed towards her destination, where the moon hovered close to the water.

"-I'm heading through the docks, towards a tower in the central area of town to see if I can get a better vantage point on the wind direction, perhaps locate an origin... end it, if need be. " After making this statement, Impromptu paused- she didn't really think about fighting again until just now.

"So what are you doing here? Considering the direction of the wind... The breeze is stronger in the port area, at the moment. I think it would be a good idea for you to head back West."

The Kirby sighed, laying back in his cot. He closed his eyes a bit.

He should be dead. That's all he could think of, that he should have died back there. Anyone else would have left him to die after that, just a petty thief that would be buried with a nameless grave. That was the last fate he expected when he was young...but it was the first fate he's recently expected.

He sat up. He wanted to talk to that girl. Maybe...she'd understand his plight.

-Rapier Forte-

"Two targets sighted."

"Doesn't matter, I'll take both of them on..."

Rapier leaped onto a wall of a building and jumped to the rooftops from there. He then looked around and saw, through a few houses, the round creature was still, talking to another figure highlighted in yellow. Rapier leaped forward once more and guided himself down to right behind the Kirby.

"Too easy..." Rapier muttered striking down with his left blade and up with his right blade.

-Lady Aurora-

"He's aiming at someone, probably...someone named Impromptu Sorida," Sophie thought to herself.

Sophie leaped up high into the sky and with a light pulse of energy dived towards the figure marked in red on the roof tops. As she landed, he leaped off and aimed himself towards a figure highlighted in yellow.

"Hm... I should warn her," Sophie thought to herself.

"Impromptu, look out behind you, a swordsman is going to attack you soon," Sophie said focusing her thought towards Impromptu.

Sophie saw Rapier diving down rapidly towards Impromptu. As he landed Sophie leaped up and aimed herself at Rapier's position. She drew out Procta from thin air and twisted herself to a smashing position.

"If you dodge forward, I can help you," Sophie said to Impromptu only.

As the pink puffball gave her explanation of what she knew of the unconscious people all over the place, Mirkwood was shocked by the statement she made.
"Their soul, gone? There must be a large group of powerful magi that pulled this off..." he whispered to himself.
After stating her question, and her suggestion, Mirkwood responded.
"Well, I was just seeing if some of my friends at the infirmary knew anything about it. But considering that you have just come from there, I doubt they have any information that you don't. To your suggestion, I respect your warning, but what would I do in the western part of the city? Cower in some room in an inn, or a dank alleyway? Even if I leave the city, who's to say the dark wind would stop there? How about I go with you? I'm quite the shot with this bow, and I do have some elemental magic abilities. What do you say?"

It was as he finished this that the two figures dived down from the sky.

Something prickled at his consciousness. Something other than memories and guilt.

His reason for being here had shown itself.

Summoning the winds again, Seven sprinted off. He'd know his mission when he reached it....

It didn't take him long. Two figures diving out of the sky, one of which he recognized from earlier. "It's her...I don't like this."

Seven then focused on the two being dived at, and realized he knew them.

"NEP MIT NELM, YI PEN NAQEN! QITEL!"

Dashing in front of Mirk and Impromptu, Seven focused his will, combining several spells in to one massive defense.

A wall of crystal shot up, out of the earth, and became laced with lines of fire and lightning. An air current rippled over it, building a screen. Light flashed, and the crystal, lightning, and fire all vanished, leaving behind a wall of solid light & air capable of withstanding the pressure of an ocean from its floor.

The effort had tired him...but surely the two would be safe.

Taking a handful of cashews from an inner pocket, Seven turned to the pair.

"That...should hold. I'm sorry, my friends. I was...slow. I should have sought you out before danger drew me."

As he spoke, he looked closer at the two.

"Wait. You are...not the same."

Seven gestured to Impromptu.

"You are Impromptu, yes? The cleric?

Then, to Mirk.

"And you are Mirkwood?"

His hands moved restlessly. Seven's agitation caused two of his old weapons - a Bravace and a Meteor Cudgel - to appear beside him, on the ground.

"Lanent! Can nothing work properly!?"

This entire exchange happened in under two minutes. Seven has registered, in the back of his mind, that spoke with extreme speed, leaving no real time for answers. Even his shielding was up in barely a second. Yet still, he was impatient, waiting for answers...