It was ironic to Vir that the Chitrans’ own Calling System enabled this gambit. The captain understood Vir was someone high in the Warrior Calling social strata. Someone, perhaps, with connections that could get the captain fired. Or worse. Someone they could not afford to offend.
“Sir, please just take the food and leave. We are upholders of the law. We will not fight you.”
Vir sighed theatrically. “Well, then I suppose I shall. You won’t mind if I take my pick?”
“If you must,” the captain replied.
“You’re just letting him get away with this?” another monkey said.
“Stop, Javin. You do not yet understand our ways,” the captain said, now visibly sweating.
“Oh, no. I understand. I see what is going on here. And I will not stand for it!”
Vir couldn’t help but admire the demon’s sense of honor.
Too bad it’s so sorely misplaced.
“No! Stop! That is an order!” the captain bellowed, but it was too late. Javin rushed forth and slashed at Vir.
Vir spun, his talwar clanging with the guard’s. Under his mask, he smiled. The enemy had so graciously taken his bait.
18TO CRAFT A SYMBOL
Vir had several reasons for wanting to fight this band of Chitran soldiers. At the moment, it was the thrill of a fight that interested him most. What tattoos would he get to see? What Bloodline Arts? What techniques?
He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
The first attack was swift, but it was neither physical nor Chakra, as Vir expected.
Earth Affinity prana flared from the demon’s tattoo.
The guard bellowed, and the world shook. A good chunk of Prana Armor sheared off, and Vir Micro Leaped back.
Warlord’s Battlecry? Vir guessed. The Chitran Bloodline Art emboldened one’s courage and aggression while striking fear in their enemies. Vir had wondered how a pranic ability accomplished such a thing. Now he knew.
The shockwave washed over Vir, and without Prana Armor, he didn’t rightly know what would’ve happened to him. The battle might’ve ended right then and there.
“Come on!” the Chitran warrior roared. His voice was an octave lower, deeper. More primal. Even his stance lowered into something more feral.
The monkey man lunged at Vir with motions that mimicked an ape. After bounding left, then right, he threw a wide right hook.
Vir blocked then aborted, dodging at the last moment. The attack was heavy. Too heavy for a mere prana-Empowered blow. No, the hook was clad in Warrior Chakra.
Can’t let their attacks hit me!
No armor would protect him from a strike at his soul, and Prana Armor wouldn’t last long against attacks reinforced with prana. Besides, he needed to preserve it for any further prana-based attacks like Warlord’s Battlecry.
The guard leveraged the momentum from his punch to initiate a spinning slice of his talwar.
Once again, Vir sensed the heavy aura of Warrior Chakra coating his blade. Promising to slice his soul.
Though the danger was real—at least, once Prana Armor had been defeated—with Haste active, attacks of this level were no match for Vir. Not one-on-one.
“Movement arts, huh? Aspect of the Forsaken Skies? Or perhaps Crossroads…” his opponent snarled, licking his monkey lips. “Now, this ought to be fun.”
Vir once again thanked the gods that demonic tattoos had so much variety. It allowed him to pass off a lot under the guise of some Aspect tattoo.
“No! Stop,” the guard captain ordered—though it came off as more of a plea. He was overruled.
Once again, a shockwave of prana smashed into Vir, taking another chunk of Prana Armor with it. Another guard had activated Warlord’s Battlecry.
Current surged to its maximum strength, but he couldn’t take many more blows before the armor failed. With the surrounding lack of prana, Vir was unable to replenish much between attacks.
“Let’s get him!” the other guard roared. The captain, perhaps unable to resist his soldiers’ Warlord’s Battlecry, followed suit.
Now that’s interesting, Vir mused.
Whatever mental effects Warlord’s Battlecry had upon the caster affected their nearby allies as well. One wasn’t enough to overpower the commander’s instincts, but two did the trick.
The two warriors joined the fight, attacking Vir with Chakra-laden strikes, forcing him on the defensive.
Vir heard a snarl from somewhere.
“Stay out of this!” Vir ordered.
“What? Begging for mercy? You are far too late!” the guard hollered, thinking the words were intended for him.
It was as if they were drunk. Which was why they never noticed Shan’s jet-black form, only paces behind them. Ready to lop off their heads.
The Ashfire Wolf reluctantly backed away.
For Vir’s plan to work, Shan couldn’t be seen with him. Not yet, anyway.
Vir ducked and dodged the incoming punches, burning prana for speed. Haste gave him an unfair advantage—their strikes couldn’t land.
Unfortunately, it also consumed prana with reckless abandon.
Need to finish this fast.
Grabbing a guard’s arm, Vir slammed an Empowered fist into their wrist.
The guard’s talwar went flying, and before he could retreat, Vir tripped him, sending him to the ground.
Vir turned to his next foe—the captain—when he detected a prana surge from within their body.
Bracing himself, he jumped away… or tried to.
His movements suddenly slowed. Not only that, his adversaries’ speed doubled.
They were now even.
Warlord’s Domain! Vir belatedly realized. Another Chitran Bloodline art.
“Take him down!” the frenzied commander roared.
Clang!
For the first time in this fight, Vir was forced to block.
It was good that he did—the Chakra in his opponent’s sword had similarly grown. Both the commander and his guard’s eyes glowed red, and they moved so erratically, Vir was barely able to fend off their strikes.
Clang! Clang!
Only now did Vir understand the potential of the Chitran Bloodline Arts. One warrior could empower his comrades… and all of his comrades could in turn empower him.
For the duration of their art, they became, in essence, super soldiers. The more of them involved, the more pronounced the effect.
Where they might’ve been Balar 50 before, they were each easily over Balar 100 now.
Vir barely dodged a talwar, losing a few hairs in the process. He snuck low beneath the strike to drive an Empowered punch into his enemy’s solar plexus.
The weight carried the full might of his power, and his enemy was lifted cleanly off his feet and into the warehouse’s nearby wall.
The guard was unconscious before he even hit the ground. Vir silently thanked his demonic constitution—had they been human, they’d have surely died.
The attack hadn’t come without cost, however.
The commander’s sword eviscerated Vir’s Prana Armor, blowing it away entirely.
Now, Vir was exposed. The next strike that hit him would slash his soul, dealing permanent, crippling damage.
Vir cursed. Until now, he’d refrained from using any of his pranic powers, lest they be used to identify him.
He no longer had such luxury.
Prana Darts flew from his hand, colliding with the seric talwar the captain wielded, throwing him off-balance.