Down In Rain

Cracked Form In Mind (7)

The ash settled onto the grounds of the seventh floor as the saviors arced in a ball of fire out of the building. More chaotic strikes of struggle would teeter totter this city on the brink of destruction. It would topple itself inwards to bleed.

And to die.

Henwick began to move to the top floor to flag the Executive down into the chaos that now began to envelop the whole city, spreading like wildfire. Henwick recited a quick prayer:

"As I walk across the field of bones, let him walk with me as the master of all codes. His blade in my hand, ready to fall to the soil at his will."

Henwick had faced chaos before, but he was in the eye of the storm this time.

Krag, Day 1, 12:45 AM,
The searing light shone as I swear we bounced off the moon and the stars in the blink of an eye. Teleportation circles were the pinnacle of transportation in this day and age. Why should we run when we can fly?

I could see our location approaching, incoming fast, faster than the hailstorm of droplets that showered around us. Mud kicked up, shattering the ground as we arrived at our destination. The process had felt like fifteen seconds, maybe even less.

Trees lined our sides as far as the eye could see around us. I scanned the tree line side to side, looking to see if I could find any sort of landmark or...silhouette. There was nothing that I could see at a first glance.

Holding a finger up to my neck I pressed down hard on my flesh to track my pulse.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

My vitals were good. I had to check to see if I was undergoing any side effects of teleportation like Henwick mentioned.

I wasn't feeling any of the immediate bad ones, like hallucinations or mind splitting headaches. Those would be like a smack in the face. I'd know if they were occurring right away.

My eyes trailed to the other members of my group. Felix looked to be out of breath, looking ready to throw up. Tamantha held a hand to her head, topsy-turvy looking. Teleportation gives some nasty minor side effects due to the whiplash that can occur for some people.

Not me however. I was immune due to the hard lifestyle I keep with my training. The life of a martial artist was one of strength and survival.

Especially since I practice a form of martial arts called Tocka in my native tongue. Debatably one of the most grueling arts to practice due to the cuts you get during blade deflection.

I wonder if Dima would be immune. He is a knight after all.

Albeit a shoddy one.

Dima tried to seem assertive and stand tall but he immediately placed a hand on his sword, shakily.

Dima was weak. I could see it in his eyes when people spoke to him. He was always ready to shatter into pieces. He is not fit for knightdom. Dima would be better suited as common cannon fodder and that in itself was almost frighteningly pathetic.

Dima's voice strained as he drew out a sentence into the cold mist, almost whispered in tone,

"Everyone alright?"

I couldn't even muster a glance at his attempt at authority.

The others said that they were ok. Though they told Dima their current maladies. Both of which I had already predicted in 10 seconds tops.

Why do I have to suffer the weakness of these people? If I was in charge we'd already be moving. What was Henwick thinking?

Dima tensely surveyed the surroundings around us,