Verdamona could feel the heavy ripple of multiple Xana signatures crawling through the smoke. They were ten, maybe more. They weren't even bothering to hide their presence. The bastards wanted her to feel their pressure.
She exhaled, straightening slowly amid the flaming debris of Heart's Boutique. The store's perfume and rose-scented air fresheners had turned into a suffocating stench of burnt sugar and iron. Verdamona cracked her neck once.
"Tch. Guess running's out of the question."
Out of the smog, silhouettes emerged. They were Fluxers in black armor and silver visors. Their movements were synchronized. Each one brandished a different weapon: blades, spears, guns, staves and such.
They all had the Combat Flux.
"Figures. They sent brawlers."
Combat Flux is the backbone of Altera Earth's warfare and the most instinctive form of battle Flux known to exist. 60% the Fluxer population possess it. Each Combat Fluxer is bound to a single weapon from birth that reflected their very soul. Some got swords, others scythes, hammers, spears or daggers. They didn't choose it. The weapon chose them. That was both their strength and their curse.
Their bodies evolved alongside their Flux. They had enhanced hearing, sight sharp enough to track bullets mid-flight and a physical strength that made them faster and deadlier than any unawakened soldier. As they awakened, they learned to manipulate Xana that amplified their weapon's true potential that would only be achieved in the Second Awakening.
Verdamona was at that threshold as an Ennèa of the Second Awakening.
"Stay close, Norphie," Verdamona said quietly, her eyes locked on the attackers fanning out around her.
"I can't fight you know."
"Then don't. Just breathe."
The Xana around her whip pulsed in rhythmic surges, each wave strong enough to distort the air around her arm. The Fluxers charged first with six from the front, three from above and two circling around her flanks. Verdamona's body relaxed. Her mind synced with the pulse of the whip.
The first wave hit.
A spear lunged for her chest. She twisted, her whip cracking across the weapon's shaft. It shattered instantly. A second attacker came with twin blades. Her whip spiraled around his wrist, yanking him forward before her boot met his face. Bone cracked like porcelain. She pivoted, lashing out in a wide golden arc. The whip blazed with Xana, cleaving through air so fast the shockwave alone toppled a nearby wall.
Three Fluxers were sent flying. The others hesitated.
"Come on, don't get shy now."
One screamed, drawing a heavy war axe, his Xana glowing crimson. He swung downward but Verdamona side stepped, catching the handle mid-air with her whip, twisting it around his weapon arm and slamming him into the pavement. Another charged with a dagger. She turned, grabbed her mid-swing, and flicked her whip so it wrapped around her neck like a serpent.
The whip flared gold. The force that hurled the dagger user backward so hard she tore through two burning walls before going still. Blood sprayed as black smoke danced in the air. Norphie's eyes turned from body to body as they fell, each hit sounding less like combat and more like an execution. However, Verdamona wasn't killing them. Every strike was measured to incapacitate, not kill. She could have ended them easily. That was the terrifying part.
A sniper took position on a fallen billboard. Verdamona didn't even look. She flicked her whip upward, catching the bullet mid-flight and sending it ricocheting straight back into his shoulder. The man screamed as he tumbled off the ledge.
A cluster of Fluxers switched tactics, forming a circle and syncing their Xana output. It condensed pressure into a singular radius meant to overwhelm anyone standing inside.
"You're joking."
They slammed their hands to the ground, compressing the surrounding air. The ground beneath Verdamona cracked, the gravity tripling. Her knees bent slightly. Then she exhaled, her golden Xana flaring brighter.
"You're trying to crush me? Seriously, you should try more."
The air exploded as she snapped her whip upward, tearing through the gravity field like it was paper. The zone ruptured, sending all nine attackers sprawling backward. One of them coughed blood, their armor fracturing under the shock.
"This is what happens when you corner someone who's tired of holding back."
She lashed once more. Her whip was an untraceable blur. When the smoke cleared, every enemy lay broken. Their weapons dissipated. Their armor was crushed. No one was dead but none of them getting up soon, either.
Verdamona rolled her shoulders, her golden Xana flickering before fading. The whip dissolved into embers that vanished in the wind. Behind her, Norphie scoffed.
"You didn't kill any of them."
Verdamona shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
"But they tried to—"
"Yeah, that's the thing about people like me. If we start killing, we don't stop. I killed once and... let's just say I don't like it when I do."
The golden light finally left her eyes, leaving behind only the exhaustion of someone who knew far too well the weight of restraint.
"Will you be okay? The store and your employees—"
Norphie watched the ruined ruins with an expression so calm that Verdamona was confused.
"I'll be fine. The employees who were here were my guards and the others had not arrived yet. That's not yours to fix, God-touched."
Verdamona flinched at the word, then pushed it down.
"They're dead, Norphie. There are bodies—"
"And I don't care about the officials of the Houses who came here today. My outfits are made from my Flux. I replicate patterns from memory. I can remake stock so I didn't really lose anything here. I only lost the building and not my designs."
The pragmatism in Norphie's voice had an edge that frightened Verdamona more than the explosion had.
"You talk as if lives don't matter. It's like they're just collateral."
"They are actually collateral to me. Most of the night staff were guards. They knew the risks and chose their post. I will not insist that choices I did not make should or should not have been made."
"How can you say that?"
"Because every life has context. My wife matters. My brand matters. The House of Phoenicia matters because it protects others with resources. I protect what I must. The boutique will be rebuilt. The dead will be accounted for. The problem to solve is who attacked us, and why."