Chapter Text
Lucio was more tired than ever before.
Never mind tired, he was unimaginably exhausted. Just as and even more so than his supposed training sessions with Valencina, beaten and bloodied to pulp.
The nonexistent cuts and lacerations still pulsed like they were there. The odd skitters of… something, just crawling over his body, beneath his skin, gnawing until only bone – scratch that – not even bone was left.
His heart! He clutched his heart, the steady rhythm, fast in accordance to the adrenaline in his system, it was still there. It was still there.
It… was still there?
The body screamed at him, just as it did at that moment, when that… thing pierced his chest. The blood went everywhere it wasn’t supposed to be. Outside, on the floor. Inside, within his lungs.
Oddly enough, he was alive against all he knew.
Lucio could have sworn he’d died. Died, attacking the man who tried to convince him to halt. Died, never heeding his words. Died, heeding someone else’s. Died, when that man’s arm turned into something beyond human and pierced his heart.
The ringing subsided, along with the return of other senses. The screaming of men, women, and children outside this seemingly lackluster hut. Wails and shouts of violence and wrath flooded his world.
Clutching his hands on the floor and groaning, saliva welling in the back of the throat. Ought to get up, he knew he should, but he could not stop ruminating upon his last life.
The rally of men, the screams and shouts of brutality and ever-present greed welling in their souls.
Lucio breathed, letting the emotion in his chest be washed away.
Faintly, “Everyone on this street is gone, search the houses!”
He died. He died when he couldn’t avenge the injustices enacted upon him.
He should have been the one to kill her! Or at least see her struggle and beg for quarter just as much as he did! He wanted to live to see the day that she died by his hands and by the swordsmanship that she so very taught him!
Knocking, banging on the door, “Hurry it up! Just kick it down!”
Lucio let himself feel his gruesome death. Lucio let his resentment boil to its utmost extremes for that woman. Lucio, even hypocritically, let himself feel the utmost relief and gratefulness of when Valencina took him in – turning him from rat to someone stronger.
No longer indebted to her, no longer indebted to anyone, Lucio stood up from the pain, and let these emotions wash over his mind and soul.
How dare she order him to his death! After all he had taken - tolerated from her and done for her?
The door was knocked down, swinging with incredulous force as some, what it seems, to be some brutish looking gang-members. His best assumption was that he was in the backstreets in some village, somewhere, and this was a village raid.
These people will know of his own hatred. “Sh-shit!” one of the gang members stumbled back. He didn’t recognize the attire, he studied the hierarchy of every major syndicate, gang, corporation, company, and organization as per his affiliation with the Thumb, “A Huntsman!”
A rivaling gang, maybe?
No matter. They’ll be dead anyways.
Allowing the numbness to flood his body, he jumped forward with his rapier, piercing through the chest of one.
A couple were in a panic and started to run away. A brute to his right swung his club at him, but he cleaved through the remainder of the throat, and severed the head.
Lucio didn’t even need to parry and dodge. A testament to how pitifully weak these men were.
The other pair were fleeing. Gazing towards the huts and houses lined up outside, many were burst into flame.
If this were an operation to simply pillage, then they have done horribly, burning their own spoils.
Blitzing the remaining pair, the power in his legs shot them towards their backs, and steel met heart and windpipe.
Clean and quick deaths. He went for the heart, just as she said.
And thus, Lucio was alone for now. There might be more patrols later, but he used this time to wipe the blood off the Palermitan Rapier and indulge in the surroundings.
Not one civilian in sight around. Dead, kidnapped, or fled, he presumed.
Lucio indulged in the sight of the trees. Ignoring the warm glow of the fires ravaging the human structures, he’d never seen such a sight before as a rat in the Backstreets. Not even when under his apprenticeship, banished to four walls and a roof.
He turned his gaze to the sky. The stars, and the…
What happened to the moon?
So shocked by the sight of the complete shattering, he never noticed the yellow glow emanating from his body.
Unwieldy Shin (心) – Lucio
-Turn Start: At 35+ SP, gain Unwieldy Shin (心) – Lucio OR on when Lucio is at 30% max HP.
-Offense Level +2 for every instance of Clash Win in the last turn (max 4 Offense Level per turn)
- Gain 5% of max HP as shield for every activated Tremor Burst upon enemies (max 10% per turn)
-Turn End: Lose (# of turns spent with condition Unwieldy Shin (心) – Lucio x 5 SP) (Max SP loss: 25)
-Lose Unwieldy Shin (心) – Lucio if in a panicked state or if Lucio hasn’t killed an enemy in a turn or won a single clash.
“Swing your sword one-thousand times.” She ordered.
“Can you fucking swing it straight!?” She yelled, “I already told you this one-hundred times to swing it. Fucking! Straight!”
Muscles already aching, the microfractures within his bone pulsating pain with every degree swung.
“Yes, Master.” And so he swung as straight as he could.
“Piece of sh-“
It was never enough for her. Never enough. But Lucio swallowed it out of the kindness of his heart. Through the beatings, the bruises, bleedings, and fractures. Gratitude for his Nursefather, his master.
No more, not anymore. She won’t ever see his hatred, but that doesn’t mean that Lucio won’t spite her like she would see it.
If only he could fully control his hatred, but the resentment runs deep and deep, and the spiral of hatred may drive him to fail.
But as they say, hate is a great fuel.
For a time…
Will to Survive
Never lose Unwieldy Shin (心) – Lucio if below or at 15% HP.
There was always a certain penchance to him, as per his upbringing in the Backstreets, and to some potential that Valencina apparently saw in him. He was hardy, to say the least. Survived, even in the most destitute and brutal contexts, Lucio did: through the skin and grit of his teeth.
But surviving and living are two very different things. There was survival in the Backstreets and survival under Valencina. Never a difference besides the material comforts.
But living meant choosing for yourself. Purposefully choosing to be hungry. Choosing to do this and that. To live is to choose, simple as that.
And he’ll show her how he will live. No longer to be the perfectly tailored Textbook to her, and from her.
He’ll show her how he will choose…
Devoid of wounds, even from the previous encounter that Lucio so wished to banish from the depths, there was but an ache in his heart.
Where was the moon?
Nevermind that, how was the moon, exactly? Lucio knew, definitively, that the moon did not look like that. Even through the murky, gutter sky of the City before rescue. Scattered to a thousand pieces, like ashes floating in the wind, seeking a new horizon.
Always, typically and always, things landed upon his lap both good and bad. The whims of the City’s Backstreets put upon Lucio’s plate. The abuses suffered from Valencina, to be dealt with by him and placed upon his lap.
But platitudes such as those ought to be reserved for later. For now, the top priority was his survival. To carve out a life completely his and his alone. That’s what feels the most right at this very moment, yes…
Honed over the miserable years, were ways to avoid violence. A spry body meant nothing without the calories and the nutrition to support the muscle. But spry? Agility? A dash and a sprint away was what often did the trick to steal from other Rats. They were slow, hungry. He was hungry like them, yes, but he ran fast while starving. Organs, knives, anything for the Ahn to fuel the next day or so.
The other gift that the Backstreets included was the gut. Valencina said that there was a sort of science to it. Pattern recognition. It was after the Smoke War where she truly found the rationale behind such.
It is that the mind has seen so much conflict, or has seen the preconditions of being in danger, that it subconsciously tells you that you will be in danger if you press forward, or that you will be in danger if you do a certain action.
That gut feeling is pointing towards the opposite direction of the gathering of people, what he presumed to be those hooligans.
As useful the gut feeling is, Lucio is infinitely more capable than he was nearly three years ago. What it might tell him to be dangerous - was nothing more than trivial.
And these delinquents? More or less so trivial. So if his gut is telling him to run one way, then should he not go the other to meet these hooligans?
“You need to improve your footing.”
A ruffian keeled over, clutching his stomach to staunch the bleeding caused by the two-sided sword hole.
“Keep your guard,” it was like sweeping dust away, considering how he simply waved their sword away from them when measuring his blade reach, “Don’t leave yourself exposed.”
A swipe to the throat. It opened, and they started to drown in their own blood.
Two to the left of him. Placing his two swords up, crossing them to defend, he parried one strike, sending them stumbling back. The other was about to thrust with their spear.
Sidestepping and twisting his body to avoid, the spear-fighter lurched forward too much, “You must keep your sense of balance,” he thrusted his rapier into his chest, “It allows the opponent to easily pressure you.”
The one left stumbling, started to sloppily retreat. And by sloppily retreat, he meant drop his weapon and run away, even as other teams and groups of these gang members approached behind and in front of him. Some… thirty of them, give or take?
The Palermitan Style’s primary strength was its excellence in one-on-one engagements and duels. But against thirty semi-organized fighters? Considering their fighting strength was similar to his before his… apprenticeship, he could manage.
Take the strongest or the easiest first, maneuver, and take the next. Thin the herd as much as he can into something manageable. It was just like cutting your food to bits to eat. Cut the steak and eat the piece sliced, and move on towards the next piece. Pair with asparagus, if you so desire.
The heel of Lucio’s shoe was on the last survivor’s chest. The raging fire caused upon the village roared around him. The crackle of wood and tumbling trees caused a certain melancholy upon his heart. The vibrancy of the forest surrounding the village should have been preserved, or at least, untouched by the sack and raze of the village. Vibrancy like this was rare in the Backstreets.
Besides that, Lucio dug in his heels further, causing the bandit to squeal under the pressure. Their hands were wrapped around his ankles trying to pry him off his chest. Punching and rustling as best as he could.
“Would you stop?”
Realizing the waste of his efforts, he quickly stopped, allowing his arms to collapse on the dusty ground, “What the fuck do you want?”
Vulgar. Expected, really, “First, our location. What district and where am I?”
“What are you an idi-” his hand met his sheathe, “God - fuck - Mistral! We’re in fucking Mistral!”
Leaning in his body and head to question, “Mistral? Was MDM Enterprise replaced? Is that why the moon is in such a state?”
The bandit responded by pressing himself into the ground, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Mistral. That didn’t ring a bell at all. From A to Y District, its various backstreets, rich neighborhoods, slums, Finger hubs. Mistral didn’t ring a bell at all.
“Raven,” they breathed out, “Raven will get back at you for this!”
“Raven? Who is this Raven?"
“She’ll hunt you down for what you did to the Branwen Tribe,” so that must be the name of the gang, “And once she finds you, you’re dead meat, Huntsman!"
“I want the location of the nearest town. Now, if you would.”
“That’s not going to save you-!” Lucio pressed down harder, enough to squeeze the breath out of him, “Ghrk!”
“You can either die by me or live if you answer my questions. I want the nearest town and how to get there.”
“She’ll kill me anyways for - FUCK!” and he pressed down hard enough to not only squeeze air, but enough to start to bend those ribs, “FINE, SHIT! JUST WALK OUT OF THE GATE AND FOLLOW THE ROAD!”
Satisfied, the shoe no longer compacted the gang members bone and lung. He, like Lucio himself earlier, grasped at his chest whilst struggling to breath. Writhing and squirming on the floor.
Arms crossed behind his back as Lucio started to leave the village, he wondered about something.
Wondering over the howls and cries of fast approaching wolves and animals in the distance, what Lucio got himself into this time.