Chapter Text
Nikita had come to be known as "The Stormbringer."
When asked, he would wave it off, recounting a time where, by sheer coincidence, it had begun to rain suddenly whenever his squad engaged with the Wild Hunt. Therefore, people had started to joke around with the title.
"The weather in Nod-Krai is unpredictable like that," he always said.
And yet, the members of his squad would swear by their leader's "good luck." Whenever they came to face a particularly vicious enemy, it was then that water would seem to surge at their feet, or in the air. And with the water came Dendro blooms, or Electro that arced off of the Wild Hunt enemies, or mud that would bog down the monsters but never seemed to hinder the ratniki.
Good fortune following their captain, they joked. Nikita would just offer a grimace of a smile and wave it off.
"Just the weather," he repeated.
Still, wherever it came from, it was typically a blessing. Within this land, the kuuvahki aided Hydro to create an enhanced power, power that the Lightkeepers sorely needed in their fight against the Wild Hunt.
So really, if a little extra rain happened here and there, if it allowed them to fight off the monsters a little easier, a little faster, with a few less casualties, what did it matter, where it came from?
It was a mantra Nikita found himself repeating in his mind, more and more often. There was a heavy weight in the inner pocket of his coat, but it wasn't so heavy he couldn't carry it.
His squad was assigned on another mission. In the dead of night, they set off, traveling out to where the Wild Hunt had been sighted. A line of bobbing lights, with Nikita, the squad leader, at the front. It was his responsibility to make sure they succeeded, his responsibility to make sure they all got back safe.
He would do everything in his power to make sure that happened.
That was a leader's role.
Cresting a hill, the group found a shadowy figure was waiting for them at the next fork in the path. With a tattered black coat and ghostly pale skin, they may have mistaken him for a spirit, but the lantern glowing in his hand assuaged any worries; Dead or alive, he was one of them.
Specifically, the pale blue glow of the lantern's flame was one that Nikita knew well.
"Flins?" He called out as soon as they were close enough. "What brings you here? It's not your usual route."
Flins inclined his head towards the group, a wan smile on his face, and the rest of him stone-still. "I was just finishing some business up nearby when I heard your squad was venturing out," he said. "If you'll have me, I would be honored to fight alongside you."
"Of course," Nikita answered. "An extra ratnik is always appreciated." Flins nodded once.
"Then I shall endeavor not to hold you back."
It was a laughable statement. Nikita had seen Flins fight enough times to know he could run circles around any of them.
"And what position should I take within the group, Captain?" Flins asked. Nikita frowned in thought, not because he wasn't sure where Flins should go; they both knew he would be at the front lines, but how should he maneuver the rest of the squad, then?
"…Join the vanguard," he finally said. "Janusz, can you move back to support?"
Janusz nodded, doing his best to hide the flash of relief across his face. Nikita had noticed the way his hands had been shaking earlier, as they prepared to set out. Another nightmare, perhaps? He would speak with him about it later, but for now they had to be strong.
"Very well," Nikita nodded to the rest of them. "Let's move."
The group set off again. Flins fell into step beside Nikita.
"A leader's role suits you," he commented. Nikita snorted.
"You can drop the praise, no one else is listening."
"Perhaps I am simply making observations, then."
It was interesting to watch the way his words changed when there was no one else around, courtesies and platitudes falling away to a far more direct way of speaking.
"I cannot help but notice, however," Fins went on. "Is the stress of responsibility weighing too heavy on you? You seem to have aged beyond your years, since we last spoke."
Maybe a little too direct.
"Being a ratnik will do that to you," his eyes flickered over to Flins, identical in appearance to when they had first met. "-humans, anyway."
"I am aware." Flins acknowledged with a nod. "But there is a weariness about you."
Nikita frowned.
"I have the strength to fight, if that's what you're asking."
"I was not."
"I'm fine," Nikita adjusted his lantern and scanned around the area. "Let's not dishearten ourselves right before the fight."
He could feel Flins' eyes on him, but kept his own on the surroundings. Eventually, he saw the other nod out of the corner of his vision.
"Very well."
After that, they walked in silence. After a while, Nikita glanced down at the lantern the other held. It swayed with every step, the blue flame within burning with an unnatural steadiness.
Even in the darkness, Flins must have caught his look, because he lifted the lantern ever so slightly, golden eyes crinkling.
Most would say that the glow in his eyes was because of the reflection of the lantern. Nikita knew otherwise.
Nikita knew Flins to be a man of many mysteries, a few of which he had managed to unravel. The source of the unearthly blue fire in his lantern, the power he wielded that had nothing to do with a Vision. And yet still many still remained: his knowledge of ages long past, his strange way of speaking, and the tales he spun, his insistence on remaining at his post in that far-off cemetery where few roamed.
He wasn't sure why Flins had picked him out in particular, as someone to share his time and secrets with. Nikita sincerely doubted it was solely due to his own cleverness that he found out, though Flins liked to pretend that was the case.
One thing Nikita was sure of though, above all else, was his conviction against the Wild Hunt. And well, wasn't that enough, for any ratnik?
Flins stopped all of a sudden. "We're close." He stated. Nikita's head snapped up and around. Behind him, the other Lightkeepers followed his cue, taking on defensive stances and eying their surroundings.
They could feel it before they saw it. That prickling unease rising in their chests, the feeling of being watched, of prey that felt the eyes of a predator. The feeling of being hunted.
It wasn't long after that the first deathly glows appeared under their feet. They scrambled to move and reposition as cracks broke out from the earth.
"Three steps to the left," Flins murmured. Nikita didn't ask, he just moved, right before a a rather large split broke right where he had been. Nikita's eyes darted around, trying to guess where the first wave would form.
The stone beneath their feet exploded. Shouts of alarm rang out, but they remembered their training. Nikita stepped forward, and people rushed into formation around him.
Meanwhile, twisted figures were crawling out from the chasms, while more lumbered out from rifts that split themselves open out of thin air. Nikita hissed harshly through his teeth.
It was more than their information had expected (it always was). Stronger enemies (should have prepared more, idiot!). Nikita clenched his teeth, his grip tight on his staff.
In the split second, when spirits were vulnerable to falter, Flins charged. He leapt forward straight at the largest of the group, driving his spear into its chest. The monster roared in outrage, swinging at the man who had already leapt away, only to dart in again for another attack.
Now there was no time to falter, lest they leave a comrade in the lurch.
The rest of the vanguard charged, Nikita among them. He didn't go to assist Flins; he could handle himself. Instead, he faced off with another of the behemoths, a hulking figure with massive arms.
The creature swung at him, too wide a blow to dodge. Nikita wrenched his spear up to block.
It was a heavy blow, but Nikita stood firm, bracing his stance to catch the force of it. He had a brief memory, how a younger version of him was once tossed right off his feet by a similar attack. Now, years of training and experience had made him strong.
But he needed to be stronger.
He clenched his teeth. Focusing on the weight on the inside of his coat, he called on its power.
Condensation rose up like dew across his spear. He forced the monster back, then swung hard, harder than he should have been able to.
It wasn't much. Just enough to add a little extra force into his blow, just enough to leave some lingering Hydro across the monster's form as it staggered back, its color fading to gray. It wasn't a moment later that a nearby bolt of Electro sought it out, attracted by the water covering it.
Around him, he heard the sounds of battle. He kept an ear out for a cry of pain or call for help, hoping that any would carry over the rumbling whispers of the monsters around him.
He caught a glimpse of Flins, weaving through the crowd of monsters as if they were no more than statues. Electro crackled along his form, and when he struck, lightning caught on the damp air and thunderclouds exploded around their enemies. One by one they fell, bodies fading to gray, and just as quickly Flins was upon them, finishing them off with a blow from his spear, deadly and precise as a lightning bolt.
Nikita kept up his own pace, and with each swing and thrust of his spear, the air grew thicker with moisture. More and more Electro reactions tallied up. They even managed to get a few Blooms in from the surrounding nature. Briefly, Nikita had a fleeting notion they may get through this unscathed.
He should have known better than to have that thought.
A rift bloomed up out of the earth, and out crawled three massive beasts. Nikita grimaced and set his stance to meet them.
A comet of Electro rushed past the new enemies, knocking each one back with a flurry of blows. Flins skidded to a stop, already thrusting his spear forward into one monster's chest. Nikita saw an opening, and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. A torrent of water burst from the ground to rush towards them. The monsters stumbled, roaring in outrage, then pain as the onslaught of Electro met them.
Still, it wasn't enough to bring them down. They rose again, the color returning to their bodies. The sight of it was enough to make Nikita's stomach lurch, Flins stood before them, posture calm and composed.
They lunged for him. Flins held his lantern aloft, and for the briefest moment his form seemed to flicker. His eyes flashed pale blue. His long hair, for just a second, appeared to writhe as a flame.
A breath later, lightning crashed down onto the group, obliterating them into dust. Flins lowered his lantern, standing among the dissipating remains.
Something in the air cleared. It became easier to breath, the creeping dread that stuck to their lungs began to ease. Still, Nikita clutched his spear tight, eyes darting around for another pocket of sickly glowing light.
Flins planted the end of his spear into the ground. "That's the last of them," he reported, and only then did Nikita let himself lower his weapon as well. The Wild Hunt, insidious as it was, could just as easily play dead, then flare up with a second round as soon as people let their guard down.
But when Flins gave the all clear, then they could relax.
Around them, the other Lightkeepers were lowering their weapons, looking around, checking for injuries. Nikita scanned the area and found everyone still standing. He breathed out a sigh of relief. Once again, it was over. For now.
A wave of vertigo crashed into him. He staggered, then grimaced as he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He steadied himself with his spear and focused on breathing in, then out, until his vision stopped swimming.
"I did not see you get injured."
He jumped and jerked his head to the left. Flins was standing beside him, despite Nikita hearing no footsteps, nor flicker of movement in his peripheral. Flins wore no polite smile, nor victorious glint in his eyes. Rather, his expression was perfectly neutral, but his gaze piercing as he looked Nikita over.
"I'm not," Nikita kept his face away from the other, waving a hand to assuage his concern. "Just a bit of exhaustion, adrenaline wearing off, you know."
There was a beat of silence, then Nikita felt a hand grip his arm, propping him up.
"Lean on me."
Nikita hesitated, then nodded. Smooth as a shadow, Flins slipped in under his arm, pulling it around his own shoulders, then began to lead him off to the side.
Nikita watched Flins out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to speak up, just as soon as they were far enough away from the ears of the other ratniki. However, Flins just stared straight ahead, his face unreadable.
They reached a rocky outcropping, and Flins carefully settled him down to sit against it. "Thanks," Nikita grunted.
"Mm." Flins stood up again, then looked down at the silver pocket watch that had appeared in his hand. "Now, what's this, then?"
Nikita's eyes bugged wide. "Wh-hey!" He shouted and reached to snatch it back, but Flins easily moved out of reach. Flins then held it out at him, not close enough to grab, but close enough that Nikita could see the blue gem set inside. In the dark of the night, it glowed faintly.
"What is this?" Flins repeated. Nikita scowled.
"What does it look like?"
"It looks like a Vision." Flins flipped it back around to study the gem. "Yet it is not. It is no Moon Wheel, either."
"What it is is mine." Nikita held one hand out. "And I'd appreciate having it back, or have you gone from a ratnik to a common thief?"
Flins' eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Nikita glared back at him.
"Captain!" A voice called out. They both turned to see Marushkin striding over. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Oh, no-" Nikita started to stand and raised one hand to assure him. "I'm fine-" Before he could react Flins had moved forward and grabbed his wrist. One swift motion and he was pulled to his feet, and the pocket watch was back in his hand.
"Ah, forgive me," Flins was back to his usual polite affect, one hand to his chest. "My worries got the better of me, but Captain Nikita has assured me he has taken no injuries from the fight." Flins looked to Nikita, prompting him to speak. Nikita huffed softly, shoving the pocket watch back into his coat.
"Just a bit of an after-battle crash. I'm fine now, after a rest. Were there any injuries?"
"None, despite the size of the attack," Marushkin crossed his arms. "Guess that's your good luck again, Captain." Nikita shook his head.
"No, it had nothing to do with me."
"I must object, Captain," Flins answered. "Though, I believe it was not luck, but your own skill that saw us through the battle safely." Even as he spoke his honeyed words, his eyes had gone piercing and hard again. "Perhaps, that is why people have come to call you the 'Stormbringer?'"
"It's nonsense," Nikita countered, perhaps a little too insistently. As he did, he shot Flins his own glare; If anyone was to thank for their miraculous win, it was him. Flins held his gaze for several long seconds, then turned back to Marushkin.
"It was truly an honor to fight alongside your team," Flins gave a warm smile, and yet his eyes were ice cold as they met Nikita's. "Captain Nikita's devotion to the cause is unparalleled. He fights with the strength of ten warriors, and the courage of one who does not fear death."
In that moment, Flins' usual flattery felt harsher than the most vicious barb.
"Damn straight!" Marushkin answered, oblivious to the underlying tension. "That's our captain." Flins nodded in agreement.
"Are there any wounded to bring back to camp?"
"None that need to be helped," Marushkin answered. "Olav got a slash on his arm but it's not too deep. I got a few bruises but I've fought with worse."
"A testament to your strength and determination," Flins said. "If that is the case, I will take my leave. My usual area is in the opposite direction, and I am anxious to return to patrol."
With that, he swept off, heading into the fog. Marushkin's face lit up in alarm.
"Wh- wait, alone?? That's too dangerous-!"
"Let him go," Nikita grunted. "That's just the way he is."
Marushkin hesitated, but Flins had already vanished into the mist and darkness. Marushkin scratched his head with a befuddled expression.
"Strange fellow."
"Mm." Nikita nodded. "Let's go report back."