The fireballs crashed into the ground beside Nick. Miniature suns ruptured the street and sent him flying. His trunk clambered free from his back.

               He landed hard against the cobblestones, rolling across the road while peppered with shattered rocks and dust.

               Nick blinked his eyes open, the world spun and his hearing was blurred. Someone was calling out his name.

               He was surrounded by emerald chunks, bright and flaring. Realization dawned on Nick, and he forced himself up.

               He managed to limp away before the chunks burst around him, dissolving into a black liquid. Fire spread from the initial blaze, ignited the liquid, turning scattered embers into a roaring inferno.   

               The way out the town was blocked by the fire, which blazed higher than the ancient stone walls themselves. He watched his trunk become tinder in the growing conflagration.

               “Nick!”

               He made out Ren’s flickering visage on the other side, outside the wall. His brother at least had made it out.

               “Go!” said Nick, although he had no idea if his brother could hear.

               Nick saw a linger of doubt on Ren’s face, then his brother turned and sped up the road. Another volley of cannon fire erupted along the stone walls. This time the gate caved in and sealed the way out for good.

               More emerald shards sprung out from the explosion, dissolving into oil which fed the inferno. The marble houses closest to the gates began to come undone from the heat, entire pieces of the wall falling to powder. Nick ran back up the streets into the town, wincing and biting back bruises. Trying to escape before he too was consumed.

               It was chaos. The roaring fire was mixed with screams alongside the crackle of muskets and boom of cannons. The three-deck Longwarder above shifted, giant emerald air-engine pivoting it around. Another volley shot out below the town walls, sending up explosions followed by a rising fire in its wake. The smaller sloops swerved around the central ship, spitting volleys of fire and lightning at any Nephilim who tried to fly to freedom.

               None of the ships seemed to be pursuing Ren, which gave Nick a small drop of relief.

               Still, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go.

               He knew pirate activity off the North Imperial coastlines had risen since the civil war. However, he did not expect them to come to Vislandan shores. In the past it was considered insanity to draw the ire of the Nephilim.

               However, the past was the past, and today was the present.

              

               The gemstone cannon shells used by that ship far exceeded the strength he knew of. They were dual-element as well, leaving behind shattered emeralds enchanted to dissolve into oil. It wasn’t just the cannons though. The muskets were far too accurate and far deadlier than the one’s Eric’s men used. They fired spells of at least the second and probably the third tier.

               Was this what Lara had been talking about?

               These also weren’t just any pirates. The Longwarder was of Northlander make, with modern adjustments and even more advanced weaponry. Were the Jarls declaring war? Were they responsible for the destruction which wrought the southern regiments?

               Nick kept moving. Now wasn’t the time to think of politics. He needed to get to safety.

               Lightning bolts and fireballs streamed up from various parts of the town towards the Longwarder and the sloops. However, it was to no avail. The wriggled texture of their blue hulls were strewn from Oakvallen timber, which only grew in the outskirts region of the old continent. An area dense in aether, which granted supernatural strength to its bark.

               Fire and lightning brushed against the hulls without much damage. The ships continued their course, bombarding the perimeter of the town, walls of enhanced fire rising in its wake.

               However, not a single shot was directed at the town proper.

               That meant only one thing. They intended not only to loot but also capture. The wall of flames was being made to hem them in, and the sloops kept anyone from escaping through the skies.

               Capture for what purpose, whether it be for the cross-ocean slave trade or something else, he did not know. However, he had no intention to be among that number.

               Fumes from the raging inferno swept past him, smoke choking his breathing. His hands were scraped raw, cut with shards of stone shrapnel sent out from the blast. The wound on his chest was on the verge of reopening.

               He needed to get to safety, and fast.  

               The Longwarder drew closer to the ground, landing in the one open spot in the town, the training fields. He could make out other noises, the gleeful yells of men and women looking to pillage an easy prey. There was a wolf-like howl among them as well. With the town wreathed in a wall of flames, and with the sloops flying above, there was no escape.

               He swerved into the closest alley, and leaned against a wall, out of sight of the main street.

               Nick could do nothing. All he could do was hide.

               He slipped into one of the alleys, and snuck into one of the corners to catch his breath.

               As he leaned against the wall, he reflected upon the moment. In a single instance of fate all of his plans had gone astray.

               He looked down at his hands, marred with dust and scrapes. A bit of blood peered through. The noise of the town being pillaged.

               He had always meant to leave, that didn’t mean he was going to hide and watch everyone suffer. He looked at the spear around his hands. Miri could still be inside.

               “Take care of them…”

               He made a promise to Valdric and he intended to keep it. However, this went beyond that. Cedric, Felix, Vlara, Cianna, countless others who didn’t deserve the fate laid before them.

               Besides, it was but a matter of time before they found him. He’d prefer to die fighting than cowering in a hole. Even a rat would bite back when cornered, and Nick was no rat.

               He was better than that.

               Another volley of cannon fire screamed through the air.

               He knew he would go through worse and he would make it out alive again. Stronger and better.

               Nick picked himself up like so many times before.

               Home. If Miri, Vlara, or Cianna were still alive, home was probably the first place they would go. From the direction of the noise, the raiders were headed toward the garrison building near the center of the town. It was where the valuable mana repositories were. It made sense for these raiders to go for it.

               Home was the other way. He navigated through the alleys, rushing past the cries of victims and battle cries of the raiders. There were the clashing sounds of combat, spells being yelled out. However, judging by the laughter of the pursuers, the fight wasn’t going in the favor of the Vislandans. Nick couldn’t do anything for them.

               He was in the final turn before reaching the closest exit to home. Before he entered the main road, Nick peeked cautiously around the corner, checking both sides.

               The street was empty, but several houses had their doors wide open. A few had doors and windows hacked apart. Belongings and goods littered the street. He recognized a pile of dolls, dirty and strewn along the cobblestones. Handspun by a little old woman whose stall was smashed in half.

               His heart sunk; the raiders had already passed through. There were no corpses however, which gave him hope. Nick’s eyes zeroed in on his home, the wooden door caved inward to splinters.

               He ran through, and as he crept over the remnants, he came to what was left of the family dining room.

               Plant roots were splayed on the floor along with dirt, mixed with fragments of the clay pots which once held them. The dining table, the one they ate upon yesterday was slanted against the wall. Two of its legs hacked apart, with enormous chunks taken off from its glossed surface with some bladed weapon. The family painting which hung above was shredded in two. The lower half flopped forward; blood congealed over its edge.

               Ragged breaths were coming from the kitchen.

               “Miri?” Nick stepped over the rubble, fearing the worst. “Vlara?”

               As he crossed the corner, he found Cianna sitting against the kitchen floor. Her face was a deathly white and her gown was drenched in blood. Her sweat-soaked face looked up.

               “Nick…” she said.

               “Cianna? The shock on Nick’s face last but a moment before he moved to action, putting down the spear and kneeling before the woman who was the closest person he had to a mother. He grabbed a kitchen towel laid scrunched on the floor, spreading it out into a makeshift bandage. “Here, let me help.”

               “Nick… “Cianna coughed, her eyes drooping. “Please…”

               “You’re bleeding out. Bad. Here, let me wrap it up the wound.”

               “Vlara… My baby… They took her, please…”

               Her free hand grabbed his as he moved to place the bandage.

               “Please…”

               She didn’t need to say anything else. Her wish was splayed across her eyes. Just like Valdric on his deathbed. A question whose words lingered within the deepest recesses of his mind, slithered up to the surface.

               Why?

               Why was so much asked of him, when he was born so powerless to do anything?

               The question was always there, even though he knew the answer.

               “I promise,” said Nick.

               Cianna smiled. “I-I know you always keep your word…”

               She slumped; her eyes left open, with the light of life long gone.

               Nick closed his eyes and bit his lip. His hands shook. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. It wasn’t how anything was supposed to go. Today was a day of farewells but not like this.

               Nick let the bandage fall to the floor, and waved his hands down on Cianna’s face, closing her eyes as a final gesture of respect to the deceased.

               That was as much he allowed himself to indulge in grief. He learned long ago the world would not wait for him. There was only one-way to go, and it was forward.

               He picked up the spear, renewing his resolve as stepped back to the entrance. Initial and tentative plans and courses of action played out in his mind, cast out when he deemed them unfavorable. As he approached the broken door however, there was the rapid tatter of someone running.

               Nick hugged the wall, and through the slit in the window, he saw a brown-haired man fleeing down the street. His breath ragged with desperation. Nick was about to call out him when he heard a musket snap to life. Fire lanced through the man’s back. He gasped one before being flung down as a pyre.

               Nick shut his mouth, hugging the wall as two men stepped into view. Their clothes were a multi-colored mix of rags and patches than anything else, and a bandana gracing their heads. However, what caught Nick’s eyes was a silvery sheen around their right arms. These men were Bracers.

               They were Bracers, yet here they were. Using their powers to prey on innocents instead of using it for good.

               Nick fumed, and for a moment he welcomed the rising thoughts of murder and madness. He noted the two had but single gems on their gembraces. One green and one red.

               The silverite edge of the spear shifted.

               He could handle them.

               “Told you to stop old man,” said one of the men, giving the immolated corpse a kick.

               “Bah,” said the other as he knelt over the corpse. “Hopefully the shot didn’t burn up everything. Let’s see if he has anything on him.”

               Nick sensed opportunity as the men were distracted and charged through the doorway.

               By the time they turned their heads, he was already in striking range. The spear wasn’t a weapon he was too familiar with, but he knew how to thrust a sword for maximum leverage and impact. He trusted the mechanics of it to be the same, for he would need every bit of force he could muster.

               Nick twisted his right foot, lunging straight with both arms while heaving his hips to add momentum to the thrust. The silverite point sped through the air toward the neck of the closest assailant.

               The man opened his mouth as the blade plunged through. There was a flash of red as it punctured his aether-strengthened flesh, but as a single-gem Bracer, there wasn’t much resistance.

               Blood sprayed out as the metal cut through skin, muscle, bone, and out the other end. The man dropped his musket, shock splayed on his eyes. Nick wasted no time drawing the spear back, leaving the dying man to fall to the ground as a gurgling mess.

               One down and one to go.

               “What in the-!” said the other man as Nick took a step forward and lunged the spear-tip toward him.

               However, he managed to twist sideways, escaping the same fate as his partner. Before Nick could try again, the man dashed back powered by air.

               Nick noticed he missed the second emerald along the man’s bracer.

               “You’re going to pay for that you Vislandan whelp.” The man drew a sword, and looked closer at Nick. “You aren’t an Innatum or Nephilim either, this outta be easy.”

               “We’ll see,” said Nick, charging forward.

               The man smirked, raising a hand. Nick’s eyes widened as he dug his feet in to stop.

               “Ventus Vectis!”

               A bolt of compressed air billowed out, barely missing as Nick stepped sideways. Pain blossomed as the pressure cut past the side of his arm, slicing through cloth and drawing blood.

               Nick reacted on instinct as his opponent dashed forward, powered by the speed of air. He hacked away with the sword, ferocity making up for his lack of form and style. Nick dodged and parried, but skill alone could only bridge the fighting gap so much, especially when he was up against an aether-strengthened opponent.

               Nick was being forced back, his own efforts growing slower and weaker. His opponent, sensing blood in the water, gave him a wide smile, revealing a few missing teeth.

               “You’re good,” said the man. “But you messed with the wrong person.”

               The next blow sent Nick’s spear wide and his guard exposed. He wouldn’t be able to defend in time.

               As his opponent’s sword rose for the mortal blow, however, a ball of fire slammed into the man’s side.

               He shrieked as his clothes caught fire and his skin was seared. His affinity, instead of strengthening him, left him vulnerable to the flames.

               Nick followed up the unexpected help. He whipped the spear around, the blade shearing through the man’s neck. His shrieks turned to gurgles as he fell dead upon the street.

               Nick slammed the spear down to hold himself up. His other hand holding his chest to catch his breath.

               “Are you okay Nick?!”

               Nick turned to see Felix running from the opposite end of the street, concern and worry draped across his face.

               “Felix.” Nick huffed. “Great timing.”

               “What is going on!” Felix sauntered to Nick’s side. “I was on leave at home when I heard the explosions.”

               Felix looked down at the corpses.

               “Who are they? Is that-?”

               “No idea,” said Nick. “They arrived on ships and attacked. No warning.”

               Felix’s brows furrowed and his gaze turned in the direction of the town garrison.

               “Oh heavens, I-I need to get to garrison headquarters immediately.”

               “Wait,” said Nick. “Let me go with you.”

               “You sure? You already look beat up.”

               What was left unsaid was that Felix didn’t think Nick would be of much help, even if he wasn’t beat up.

               “I’m okay.” Nick looked at the musket dropped by the first man he slew. The raider’s weapon was powerful, so he may as well use it against them.

               His hands brushed the wooden stock, and it was like a jolt was sent through his body. A blue screen littered with unintelligible words flickered in front of him.

            ᄂΛBΣᄂ: IMPЯӨVIƧΣD ЩΣΛPӨП (ЯIFᄂΣ- ƬYPΣ 2). ӨЩПΣЯ: ƬΛПΛK-20114111.  

            PӨЩΣЯ: 15  ЯΣᄃӨMMΣПDΣD ᄃᄂΛƧƧ: ЯIFᄂΣЯ.

            DΣƧᄃЯIPƬIӨП: ƧΣᄃӨПD-ΛƬƬΣMPƬ ΛƬ Λ ΉYBЯID ЩΣΛPӨП. BΛЯЯΣᄂ ΛПD ƬЯIGGΣЯ MΣᄃΉΛПIƧM ΛDΛPƬΛƬIӨП MӨЯΣ ЯΣᄂIΛBᄂΣ ƬΉΛП BΣFӨЯΣ. PӨЩΣЯ ᄂΣVΣᄂ ΣXᄃΣΣDƧ ΣXPΣᄃƬΣD ƬΉЯΣƧΉӨᄂD. ᄂӨӨK IПƬӨ IMPЯӨVIПG GΣMPΣᄂᄂΣƬ MЦПIƬIӨПƧ. ПӨƬΣ: ΉIGΉ DΣGЯΣΣ ӨF ƬΣᄃΉПIᄃΛᄂ MΛIПƬΣПΛПᄃΣ ПΣΣDΣD ƬӨ ЯΣƬΛIП ЯΣᄂIΛBIᄂIƬY. ᄂӨӨK IПƬӨ ƧIMPᄂIFYIПG DΣƧIGП.

           

               He flinched away, and the screen and the words vanished.

               “You sure you are okay?” said Felix.

               “Yes.” Nick had no idea what just happened. He gingerly touched the stock, but this time nothing happened. Maybe he was just seeing things.

               He unslung the band which held the gempellets from the bleeding corpse and whisked it over himself.

               He took a closer look at the aether-musket.

               It was different from any he had seen before. He only used them a few times. Eric let him use one once. Besides the odd visage, there wasn’t a rod to shove gempellets down the muzzle. The metal of the barrel looked odd, steel but with the texture of amber. Above the stock of the weapon was a knob and a small opening to the tube.

               The opening was large enough to fit a single gempellet. There was no quartz to ignite the weapon. Instead, there was a needle at one end of the opening, and the knob looked like it was intended to seal it to be fired. Was this a breechloader? He read there are hundreds of attempts to create breechloading rifles, but no metal in existence could withstand the force of a released spell.

               Yet here he was looking at one.

               “Do you know how to use that thing?” Felix fidgeted away from him. “Volkar always talks about how muskets are the work of the Fallen. I don’t believe him but…”

               “I’ll figure it out.” Nick stood up, spear in one hand and musket in the other. “Let’s get going. They took Vlara and her mother is dead. I’m not going to hide when I can make those bastards pay.”

               Felix gaze darkened. “Got it.”

               The two of them moved down the streets towards the sounds of combat.