133. At Another Front

Just as the City of Vocals saw its own battles, so did the Triple Paw Complex. The kilometers that stretched along the stranded wastes between both settlements saw warfare wage.

Armaments were brandished over the heads of willing Adventurers and the bravest of denizens who took up their arms to fight for their right to live a life free of torment. Weaponry was sparse within their ruined homes, and the massive scimitars used by the Bloody Festival were too large for many to use.

But even so, they managed to get a hold onto weapons completely foreign to them. It was a curved, wooden branch with a twining string; a bow, as L.S called them as she coughed them out in the hundreds.

Literally.

“B-Bwaaaargh. O-Oh. Enjoying the view, Painter?” L.S laughed as she somehow vomited the bows alongside iron-tipped arrows for the volunteer fighters to pick up. A look of disgust washed upon the Adventures, but to the denizens it was no stranger than anything they’d seen before.

Not one, but two Golden Index personnel were required to stack upon each other just to be able to reach her height. They assisted the process by hugging her stomach, allowing for the weapons to shoot up her throat.

L.S’ ability as the Laughing Stock allowed her to store copious amounts of weapons within her body. The mechanisms were unknown even to L.S herself, not that she or anyone cared to understand its process.

“That Amalgam called us the same. I didn’t realize the level of insult she slapped me with. But don’t tell her I said that.” Ayel responded, sifting through the battle-capable masses that stood in line to gather their arms. “But I will say; what a humorous ability, Laughing Stock. I wonder how you came to be that way.”

“Too much laughing. Too much weapon-stock holding. Crashed and burned too hard. Ahahaha. O-Oh. So rough! Lower your arms.” L.S ordered the men. “What about you, Painter? Tell me now so I can put it on your epitaph.”

“Hilarious.” Ayel thought about dismissing her but seeing the woman’s pained face as she vomited the weapons caused him to reconsider.

Despite how crude she was, L.S put effort into helping these people. As did Broker who led the lines of mages and archers at their makeshift battlements; bombarding the approaching waves of enemies.

“TAKE AIM!” Broker’s incredibly deep voice cracked and the bow strings creaked. “RELEASE!”

Hundreds of arrows flew as the twangs filled the air. Broker was a man of conviction and battle; who led the Adventures at the forefront. The golden spears he fired joined the countless monsoon of magical projectiles, all of which were empowered beyond belief by the strange, beautiful power of the Amalgam.

“SECOND ROW! TAKE AIM! RELEASE!” Broker employed a system that benefited the untrained masses. Even a trained archer would have trouble repeatedly firing their bows at maximum power, and not to mention that these bows were massive war bows that spanned over a meter long.

Furthermore, he made large body movements since many of them couldn’t understand a word he said. In fact, Perla could be heard parroting his voice. As a Blessed, she had the unique ability to converse in all languages.

Ayel watched on in awe as the refracted lights of the giant diamond shone over them. Then, he finally replied to L.S.

“Too much dreaming. It’s why I dot down my fleeting emotions onto a canvas. I know myself that it is impossible to achieve my own dreams. But I paint in the hopes of helping others achieve theirs. That is my foundation.” His philosophies were melancholic, but there was a certain hope within his acknowledged futility.

L.S burst into a sudden fit of laughter. It was neither one of mockery or pity.

She understood where his heart laid.

“Hopes, hmm. You’d fit right in with the Golden Index. Maybe even the lunatics over at ImpulseWorks.” L.S whispered, her voice inaudible for all to hear.

Between each wave of attack was the shockwave that caused their hearts to lock. L.S, Broker and Ayel were oddly immune to this effect; an anomaly that did not go undiscovered by Broker who wondered why this was the case.

10 years ago, long before he became an Impuritas, he remembered the same shockwaves tamper with his heart. Yet now it could do nothing to him, or the other Impuritas. In that light, and depending on what Frost knew, it gave insight as to why she despised them.

Broker always knew that he and the Exalted were strange, but not to the degree that Frost perhaps knew. Although, being called strange when the Amalgam themself could conjure a doppelganger and an empowering diamond made her the greatest hypocrite.

Not that he could complain. His heart remained steadfast in the heat of battle as the Hired Arm fought within the thick of the enemy’s ranks. Every movement down to the fluttering of her military garbs carried a precise purpose. There were no wasted movements.

She was a soldier beyond any of this world, and she employed close quarter tactics and combat forms unseen by any of the Adventurers, not even the battle-hardened Broker. It was as if she carried knowledge from a distant land, or perhaps a different world entirely.

Not only that – But the way she used the Justica Arm was entirely unordinary. She mounted the back of the stick against her shoulder as if it possessed a form of kickback. The weapon was recoilless to begin with, so it struck them as strange.

Suffice to say, the Big Frost was almost as much of a spectacle as the real thing.

Almost, because it could not outshine the colossal, one hundred ray sun that orbited the city, bringing ruin to all it touched. Yet in spite of that; people still managed to flee from the city in the thousands, easily over ten thousand by now, scattered all over the barren wastes trying to desperately cross over towards the Triple Paw Complex.

As a result, some of the Suppressors turned back to snatch those escaping Instruments and abandon those that had already crossed into the Hired Arm’s buffer.

“BE CAREFUL OF YOUR SHOTS! FIRST ROW! AIM! RELEASE! MAGES – AIM, STEADY – RELEASE! Blessed Perla! Barriers!” Broker’s voice never rested; his voice reaching as far as the recesses of the complex where countless hid. “WE MUST HELP THEM! NO ONE WILL BE LEFT BEHIND! YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS JOIN US!”

It became a voice of comfort in their times of despair, even though they hardly understood a word.

Beautiful transparent barriers were flung like discs along the battlefield. With Perla’s increased stats, her barriers were granted double the range and durability. They were limited to only a few dozen, but they were enough to stave off any stray arrows. If someone was hit, then the Big Frost would instantly rush to their aid.

The combined effort was a beautiful composition that Ayel could not ever dream of replicating in his paintings. More than anything, he wished to be a part of it and help those fellow Instruments; the people he had grown up with in this subterranean hell.

A time well before Leitmotif and the Blood Festival arrived and brought ruin to their lives.

Suddenly, the creatures began to conjoin with the fleeing Instruments, transforming into hideous monstrosities that carried a swollen, exposed heart.

They lumbered forward, slurping all that they could as Ayel moved past the line of archers and mages. The terrain drastically changed as he found himself staring down at a small cliff face. There was no easy way for the Instruments to climb up to them, even if it was only one and a half meters in height. The outcropping rock and loose debris made it difficult, and he foresaw countless trampling over one another as a result.

Ayel knew he was weak when it came to combat. He was a Painter. An oil painter. But unlike any other ordinary painter, he could translate his art into reality.

A brush was drawn from his rugged sleeves as he prepared to conduct his work. Inspiration roused within as he stared off into the City of Vocals afar; watching the labeled destroyer liberate his people.

“You gain strength by devouring the living. A dreaded existence like that is bound to inspire nothing but fear.” Ayel monologued. “But I cannot help but to feel moved. That the very existence of dread seeks to help us… I never knew what the stars truly were until you explained them.”

A hammer and giant slabs of wood were painted with exaggerated brush strokes. Arrows flung above his head as he nailed the slabs down, creating ramps. Then, he composed a giant, spiral star which he flung into the air like a ball.

It floated only tens of meters high; but it was more than enough. An arrow was drawn on the face of the false star to help herd the people in. A small network of them were created, leading back into a secured section of the complex that housed thousands.

They were all waiting for this nightmare to end.