Chronicles of the Exalted Sun Child

The thug’s fierce jabs proved no detriment to Heron’s defence. His mastery of the Ennoia of Winds allowed him to track each and every minute deviance to the punches’ trajectories, making it trivial to interpose his palm. It had only been the first strike that had startled him. The power behind the blow was far more than he had first thought. If he had not quickly enhanced his body with his Anima, he might have actually flown back from the blow. The man outweighed him at least two to one, considering that a large part of his body had been replaced with metal, after all. Or perhaps it was the man’s bulk that contributed to his immense mass. Despite the size of his fist, the thug was flailing it around as if it were nothing more than flesh and bone.

The shift caught him unprepared. Again. He caught a brief tinge of amusement from Yuriko, which translated to a bit of embarrassment for Heron. He had all the advantages, after all. He was an Ancient Squire, brought up to the heights of power by his beloved. It was only fair that he did not squander the gift.

The thug had strep back so smoothly that Heron had been caught with his hand mid-raise. His foe laughed loudly, though not mockingly. There was an edge of delight there, but he couldn’t help but feel the same, mirroring the delight of a nice, pulse-raising challenge. He wasn’t at all like Yuriko’s battle mania, which he hoped did not lead to her demise. The moment she died would probably mean that if he survived that moment, he would jump willingly to the Abyss to join her again. The depths of his devotion sometimes felt foreign, but only with such odd thoughts. He knew and acknowledged that he had changed, but he also knew that it was well worth it.

“Let’s see if you can keep up!”

Then the big lug moved twice as fast as he did. His jabs practically blurred in the air, leaving afterimages that lingered for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t just his hands and arms either, it was his entire body.

It took him by surprise, but only for a moment. Such a huge body moving at such speed…if he hadn’t seen high-tier Chaos Lords doing the same, then he might be out of his depth. All that happened after the big lug sped up his punches was that Heron now used both of his hands to defend. Not even to deflect, but simply to meet fist with open palm. The force of the man’s blows couldn’t affect the physical boosts his focused Anima gave him.

He remembered Yuriko telling him that his physique boosts were exceptional compared to hers when she had been in Actualisation. She admitted that he had been stronger physically then, but that was only in terms of Anima boosting his physique, he thought ruefully. Yuriko’s Radiant Body Refinement threw every calculation out of the water. He knew she was stronger overall, even discounting the fact that she was a level higher. But he took pride in the fact that in that sole facet of Anima boosts, he was clearly superior.

Of course, his Animakinesis was trash, and Gwendith always teased him about it. She wasn’t all that good with strengthening her body, which was why Yuriko was always gentle with her in bed, unlike when it was his turn. Not that he minded, ahahaha.

The space in the corridor wasn’t enough for his foe to dance around him, and he thought Yuriko would prefer that he completely dominate the encounter. Not moving from his spot any farther would help with that, right? Staying in his upright stance instead of lowering his centre of gravity was also kinda domineering. He secured his stance with his toes, actually. He was still wearing sandals since they were quite comfortable, and he had dug his digits into the tile. His robes concealed it too, heh.

His palms absorbed the kinetic impact, transferred it through his muscles, and then into the floor. Some of it was absorbed and vented by his Anima, which was infused heavily into his body. He could barely feel the impact, actually, just enough to tell that it was there. While the big man was moving fast enough to blur, his senses were attuned to the Wind, and no matter how fast he punched, the wind moved in response. This feedback allowed him to detect where and when the fists would go.

His eyes weren’t quite used to this speed though. Yuriko moved this fast when they sparred, and it was a delight to find someone else who could do so, even if he came off as having a weak Anima. He took a glance back at Yuriko and saw a thoughtful look rather than her casually haughty expression.

‘Having second thoughts?’ he sent through their mental link.

‘Hmm, yes. I guess I misjudged them. I also don’t sense much hostility, except from the thin man behind them.’

‘I see. What do you want me to do?’

Yuriko gave him a pointed look, ‘What I asked you to do. But don’t hurt them too badly, I guess. Unless they show lethal force.’

‘Objectively lethal or subjective?’

‘The former.’

‘By your whim,’ Heron sent with much amusement.

‘Hmph! Oh, that girl with silver and black hair… She's connected to something. REI-space? The connecting thread is pretty thick. I’m not sure what she’s doing though.’

‘You can ask her later.’

A couple of seconds had passed since the big thug sped up his attacks, but he’d already thrown nearly a hundred punches. The funny thing was that the thug didn’t try to move closer to Heron. His jabs were meant to keep him at a distance and probably as a rangefinder for his powerful right straight. Not that Heron was moving close anyway.

But apparently, the thug decided to change things up a bit. One moment he was throwing jabs, the next, he was right up Heron’s personal space. He couldn’t help but grin, though he took a moment to note the man’s weapons: a pistol and a knife.

Left hook, then right. Heron blocked both easily, but then, came a headbut, then a knee. And when he moved his hands to block those, the thug’s hands darted towards his collar in an attempt to grab. The fingers that were thrice as thick as his grasped the robe, and the attempted pull came.

Heron didn’t move. His robes didn’t tear, supported as they were by his condensed aura. Protecting clothes had been one of the first things Yuriko taught them after all, and it was also familiar because of the Protective Field Animus technique. The tile underneath his feet shattered as he dug his toes deeper into the concrete. He was just about to punch the other when the thug let go and jumped back. Four seconds.

Then, he lunged and delivered a crisp one-two punch. Heron deflected the jab, but when the right straight came, the man’s speed doubled again.

Boom!

A vapour cone materialised around the fist, and a sonic boom shattered the air and swept the dust and pieces of tile all across the corridor. The thug’s fist slipped over Heron’s palm and slammed against his cheek. His head moved to the right by about half an inch. The kinetic force of the blow channelled down to his feet and dispersed along with the shockwave. Cracks ran down his Anima, and there was a slight bit of pain as the blow travelled down his body.

“Nice punch,” Heron said casually.

Whatever the big man used to speed up his movements twice over must have run out because he staggered back at normal speed and he gave Heron an incredulous look. “You…how?”

Heron swept the dust off his shoulder, then said, “Shall I make my move now?” How would the man react, he wondered? Fear? Bravado? Would he run away or would he draw his weapon and escalate this fight?

“Heh! Hah ha ha ha!” the thug guffawed. “The name’s Big Waldo! You’re good!”

“Heron Muryh.” The winds parted before his lunge, giving no warning or indication of his intent. His fist slammed into Big Waldo’s gut, though it first deflected off a hastily interposed elbow. Heron’s fist skipped across the metallic arm, then struck the hardened abdominal muscles that were in clear display since Waldo clenched his stomach.

Perhaps Heron expected something else, but the gigantic man didn’t fold over. Instead, he staggered back, clearly in pain, but only for a short moment. While he had no doubt that the impact site would bruise, it was as if Waldo suddenly didn’t feel pain.

“It’ll take more than that to put me down!” he roared, though his voice grew breathless after a moment.

“Suit yourself,” Heron said, then he looked at the other big thug, a woman who was about his size and build. But had short hair that reminded him of a soldier’s cut. Unlike Big Waldo, she wore something under her vest, a strip of cloth that clung and contained her bosom. She has an impressive physique, though not as prominent as Waldo’s. She was also clutching a truncheon on her right hand. “Will you fight too?” he asked calmly.

The woman growled and stepped forward, but Big Waldo pushed her back, “Don’t ruin my fun!” he yelled, then launched himself at Heron. His speed was back to what it was at the beginning, hence, not much of a threat.

Heron ducked and weaved this time, instead of directly blocking the blows. He interspersed his dodging with sharp blows to the man’s body, but Waldo took the punishment easily. Impressive. Both of them refrained from using weapons, and Heron had no qualms about doing anything else. Despite what Yuriko said, her emotions bled through their connection even if she didn’t realise it. She was currently enjoying the fight, so he endeavoured to keep at it.

But all good things must come to an end. It wasn’t because of Yuriko growing bored, or the lanky man pulling out his gun. It was because Gwendith grew tired of waiting. Of them all, it was only Yuriko’s other lover who could push against his beloved’s vices. None of the rest could.

“Alright, enough of that,” Gwendith said sharply as she strode up next to Yuriko. “Why are you doing this?” Her sharp demand cut across the corridor, and jolted Big Waldo as well as the others of his gang.

“Us? You’re the ones invading our turf!” the lanky man yelled. The second woman, the one with silver and black hair, gestured sharply, and the others fell silent.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Unlike the Immigration Office, whose metallic eyes were surrounded by plates covering his cheeks and part of his forehead, and eyebrows, this woman’s metal eyes were limited to just that. It had a pretty orange glow, but there was also a blue light swirling around her pupils.

“And who are you to block our way?” Gwendith shot back. There was a tense silence, and this time, the five members of the gang slowly reached for their guns. Gwendith visibly rolled her eyes, “We’re headed to apartment 1023. 1021, and 1025 too.”

The dual-haired woman stared. She might have blinked, but Heron wasn’t sure if she could still do so, or if it was only necessary once or twice a minute instead of every few seconds. “Those apartments are empty, and in disrepair. Why would you even want to go there?”

“Disrepair?” Gwendith muttered in outrage. “Urk, no wonder they were so easy to book.”

“Wait…you rented the apartments down the hall?”

“What’s wrong with them?” Gwendith asked, “And you didn’t answer my question.”

The other woman shook her head, “No, I didn’t. Are you six cultists?” she asked bluntly.

“Cultists? Of what? Or whom?”

“Oh.” The other woman gestured to the rest of her group, “Then you aren’t enemies. Not yet, anyway.”

“Hah, maybe we fight again later, eh? In a roomier place?” Big Waldo laughed as he smacked Heron’s shoulder. Since he didn’t detect any hostility, he didn’t dodge or deflect.

And just like that, the thugs retreated and the way was clear.

Heron looked at Yuriko, who shrugged.

“Well, they’re gone, so let’s go,” she said simply.

“Meatheads,” Gwendith muttered, then pushed Yuriko’s back. “And you should stop making trouble!”

“What? They were in the way?” Yuriko said plaintively, and Heron snorted a laugh. Though he did hope the apartments weren’t as bad as the gang indicated.

Well, he was right. Heron decided when they arrived at the apartment that was just down the hallway. The apartments were actually worse than he expected.