Chapter Text
–Somewhere in The City, ??? Years Ago–
The thick stench of blood permeated the air of the streets. Corpses were littered around every corner, enough to form small mountains here and there, accompanied by large gashes on the ground.
Normally, any reasonable Cityfolk passing by would immediately assume that a brutal, teeth-gritting battle between two factions had just occurred here.
However, they would quickly find their assumptions shut down the moment they glanced over at the man in blue attire, wielding his scythe like an instrument he had played for all his life.
Argalia stood over the last man standing of the Nachall Syndicate. From what he had heard in the briefing, they were a bunch of former feathers who once had a relatively great upbringing, only to find themselves chewed up and spat out by E-Corp. A pitiful bunch, really.
However, to call them ragtag would be a lie. They proved themselves quite capable in combat; their proficiency with technology gave them a significant upper hand.
Still, compared to the Blue Reverberation, it was like sending a group of middle-schoolers against a well-fed lion. The silver-haired Color Fixer started to doubt if this contract was really worth his time.
“D-Damn you… Blue Reverberation…” The bloodied and beaten form of the Nachall Syndicate’s leader—Sirius—cursed. His eyes glared daggers at Argalia’s carefree expression.
“Spare me the insults, will you?” Argalia responded playfully, his eyes not even bothering to return Sirius’ gaze.
“I’ve heard enough of them in my lifetime.”
Sirius could not help but cough up a few drops of blood thanks to his injuries.
“You… I’ll… kill- GHAK!”
‘A pitiful choice of last words.’ Argalia thought as he slammed the heel of his scythe deep into Sirius’ torso, sending a vibration into the air and ending his struggle immediately. A trail of blue followed his scythe’s trajectory, painting an abstract pattern into the air briefly before disappearing.
Here, the curtains fell for the Nachall Syndicate.
Argalia retracted his scythe, letting out a silent exhale as he admired the bloodshed of his own work.
Taking one last glance at the myriad of lifeless husks he had left in his wake, he finally made his way out of the scene of crime.
However, he halted right next to the entrance of an alleyway, raising and pointing the blade of his scythe towards the dark passage before him.
“It’s been months now, I assume? Yet we have not formally introduced ourselves to each other.”
Out of the shadows, a figure cloaked in white approached the famed Color Fixer deliberately. A man with short, white hair and yellow eyes.
Argalia could not help but chuckle once he set his eyes on his stalker’s outfit and complexion.
“I am aware I had many fans across District A to Y. Nonetheless, it is still jarring to see a Proxy of the Index to be one of them.” Argalia addressed. A glint appeared on the blade of his scythe as he did.
Yet, the man he was talking to held his tongue.
“Say, what kind of twisted order from those paper slips have you gotten that led you to trace my steps these past months?” questioned the Blue Reverberation.
He remained quiet.
“The silent type, is it? Very well, if you do not wish to spill…”
Bzzzzt!
Just when Argalia was about to commence his assault. A familiar vibration was felt coming from his pocket.
Keeping a careful gaze and the blade of his scythe on the odd Index Proxy that remained both unmoving and unspeaking, he reached towards his pouch and extracted his cellphone before giving it a single tap to answer the call.
“Yes, dear sister? Oh, I see... Mm, very well… Yes, yes, I shall be there in a moment… Farewell and much love…”
The call ended; the playful smile never left his face as he pocketed his phone.
“...Consider yourself lucky. I am needed elsewhere, it would seem.”
He retracted his scythe; the Index Proxy’s expression remained unchanging, still sporting that same emotionless look, much like his movements and lips for the past minute.
“Do be aware, the next time we meet again will not end well for you… and please take my advice and grow out your hair. You remind me of someone I’m not fond of.”
With that, Argalia finally strode off to wings-knows-where.
When the Index Proxy was sure the Blue Reverberation was out of sight, he allowed himself to take a sharp exhale. Cold beads of sweat made their way down his head.
A daring order it was, to remain unmoving and unspeaking when the Color Fixer provoked him. The air in those brief moments felt as if it was choking him alive. Beneath the guise of his cloak, he was gripping Caduceus more tightly than he ever had in his entire life. Ready to retaliate at any moment in case it went south.
Even though he may be a renowned Index Proxy, to pick a fight with a Color Fixer was still a death sentence.
Beep Beep Beep
He reached into his breast pocket the second those recognizable beeps resounded, pulling out a white pager and glancing at the blue text on the dark display. It was an impulse at this point.
.CLEAR._
Well, the will of the city knows best, it seems. It always does.
Doesn’t it?
🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊
–Sal Viento, Iberia–
That was the last time Rien had indulged himself in the act of stalking. If you were to tell him he would fall back on this habit in a different world, in a different time, he would dismiss it as a mere joke.
Look where he was now.
This time, instead of following the steps of a Color Fixer, he was tracing the steps of a priest and a boy he had met around a week ago… Without the guidance of his Oracle.
Something he did out of his own volition. His own choice.
He did not have to do this, yet he did so anyway. Had he really moved past the absence of his god this easily? Was his longing for cutting the strings that puppeted him for all his life finally taking effect?
Speaking of acts of his own choice, his mind drifted back to the incident last night. From battling a cult the night before to tailing a priest of a religious organization the day after.
Cults and religions, those terms spun around his mind for a while now, bringing back terrible feelings of Deja Vu.
The former Oracle’s Proxy could not help but laugh at his current predicament internally.
He really needed to get out of Iberia soon.
Ah, what are you doing, Rien? Focus on the task at hand. His own thoughts reminded him and snapped him back to the present.
He kept an eye on Gabriel and the Inquisitor. All the while, he kept himself hidden within the shadows of Sal Viento’s many structures and made sure no other patrolling inquisitors spotted him. This proved difficult since the particular Inquisitor he was trailing kept walking past a bunch of them; they called her Irene.
Nevertheless, his talents in stealth were far superior—one of the many boons he had picked up from imitating a certain fixer.
Soon, he witnessed Irene and Gabriel enter a sizable, dilapidated building; he saw two warrior priests stationed at the entrance they used. Must be one of the Inquisition’s many branches.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of the building. He heard many tales regarding it, most notably terrible ones. As to how the locals would mention that not one person has ever set foot outside the building once they were taken into the branch. Death, if Rien had to assume.
Despite being one of Iberia’s shields, the Inquisition didn’t seem to particularly care about the commonfolk.
Sounded all too familiar.
He stepped down from the rooftop of the house he situated himself in and walked towards a bench before sitting down; all the while, he kept a close eye on the Inquisition branch, collecting his thoughts.
If his assumptions were true—if death or imprisonment for life was what awaited poor Gabriel in there—they would most likely grill him for information regarding last night beforehand.
The mind of a young man could only go so far before reaching a breaking point.
What to do, what to do. Such thoughts bounced around Rien’s mind.
Entering forcefully was out of the question for sure. Despite his inconspicuous clothing, those priests would track him to the ends of Iberia even if he had gotten Gabriel out. Hm, wait a moment. Hypothetically, even if he did manage to break Gabriel out, where should he take him? He too would be hunted down by the Inquisition.
Just then, the former Index Nursefather felt as if someone had just taken a seat beside him to his right at the same bench.
A man with long, ashen navy hair, with the back tied in a ponytail. His face sported an amicable expression, with no wrinkles; though there was a noticeable line of stubble forming on his jaw. He must be around his thirties, if Rien had to guess. His eyes were light green in color, and he adorned the same kind of ragged outfit worn by every other Iberian in Sal Viento. His height seemed average at best. It was worth noting that his skin looked a little pale, too. Lastly, he had wings with feathers of his hair color attached to his hair. A Liberi.
“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, friend.” A soft-spoken voice notified Rien. This earned the man a slight nod.
Several minutes of silence passed by. The stranger sitting beside Rien was tapping his knees to a certain beat. Perhaps an effort to make the silence less weird? Rien thought that if that was his attempt, he could not make it any more awkward.
“...It’s been quite the day, has it not?” The stranger sitting beside Rien asked him, finally breaking the ice between the two.
“You could say that.” The former Oracle’s Proxy responded in a flat tone. The man beside him nodded several times, acknowledging his answer.
“With the rise of Inquisition presence and patrols, it has been a suffocating week for Sal Vientoans. Especially after that incident involving the Church weeks back.” The man beside him yammered on. “Makes you wonder, who else is next in line on the Inquisition’s chopping block?” He finally finished with a question.
A talkative one, that’s rare. Rien thought. During his time in Sal Viento so far, he’s never seen a citizen so eager to run their mouth off.
A minute of reticence passed; Rien could feel the stranger next to him staring at him intensely. This felt off. He should probably move.
“If you would excu-”
“You were eyeing that Inquisition post, weren’t you?”
The entire world froze.
Rien, who was just about to leave the area, found himself glued to the bench the moment this stranger called him out. The shadow of one of Sal Viento’s many tall structures towered over his entire being.
“Right on the mark, hm?” The stranger sitting beside Rien taunted smugly.
“Say, why were you eyeing that post in particular? It was just instated a week back. Do you have some sort of vendetta against our great nation’s sword and shield? Or…” He trailed off.
“You are searching for someone.”
A minute passed, yet it felt like an hour to the former Oracle’s Proxy.
…Shit.
Caduceus, which was hidden right under Rien’s forearms, started rattling. No, killing him in broad daylight would be a terrible idea. What was he thinking? This was his own mess at work; he should have watched his own back instead of blindly following Gabriel and Irene.
“Between you and me both, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” The stranger hunched forward, interlocking his fingers together as he rested his arms upon his knees.
Rien did not know why he chose to listen on; he should be on his way out of this place. Yet he merely acted like a sitting duck. Perhaps he was not used to this freedom he had been granted, as he thought he was? Maybe he still needed orders from above to determine his next move at a pinch like this? His hands flew towards his breast pocket, feeling the familiar weight of the pager.
It did not make a sliver of noise.
“The security around the posts moves around in rotations. Three warrior priests are guarding the backside. Around the peak of noon, they would move towards the frontside, use that gap to find a hatch on the backside. That should lead you straight into the underground system. There, you can navigate your way around the branch as a whole.” The stranger explained thoroughly.
Rien could only give the man a side-eye in response; his yellow eyes under the hood stared intensely at the man as he finished explaining the warrior priest’s rotation shifts. One question rang through his thoughts.
Who is he?
Rien smiled softly.
“A bit odd, isn’t it? A stranger like you, knowing all these things about the Inquisition. Perhaps I should be the one questioning you whether you have anything against the Inquisition or not.” Rien spoke his thoughts.
“Pray tell then, friend,” Rien emphasized the last word. “Who are you?”
“Hm, who am I indeed…” He parroted the question, leaning back from his hunched state to rest his back against the bench’s backrest. “Maybe we could take turns in introductions; how does it sound if you were to go first?” The stranger responded to Rien’s demand playfully, his smirk never once absent from his face.
Rien stayed his tongue.
“Getting cold feet? Come on, it’s the least you could do after I had willingly traded you all that information.”
Rien let out a light laugh; what a despicable man.
“Perhaps another time then.” Rien finally stood up from the bench.
A lie, that was. He hoped not to meet this stranger ever again.
“I’ll be counting on that.” The stubbled man responded.
As Rien slowly but surely made distance against him and the strange man, he took another glance at the worn-down building that had been remade as one of the Inquisition’s many bases of operations.
Perhaps the intel the stranger had told him could have been a complete lie; he could have been working in cahoots with the Inquisition. Maybe he was walking right into a well-made trap.
However, for a spider that has entangled himself within a web for all his life, being trapped felt more like a sanctuary for him.
Rien sighed.
“...Let’s get started.”