Chapter 42 - Cryptids

Holly wasn’t going to hear any protests – this had to end. For that, she decided to go it alone. This battlefield was no place for a chef, it wasn’t even a place for the gentle seeds she cherished so dearly.

Cryptids were dangerous. The Director was dangerous. The Rene Group was dangerous. She couldn’t deal a death blow to an organization so large. That was outside of her capabilities, she was just one girl, after all. She knew nothing of corporate politics or the like. What she did know was how to fight.

“Natacha…” The plant stilled. She took in the night sky polluted by the light of the city – it wasn’t the same vista as the bird could behold; even so… “You’re probably worried about me. You’re not a bad person.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her apology would most likely never be heard by its intended audience, but she hoped the winds would carry it to its recipient.

Though perhaps she owed the same to the three she left behind. What she was about to do wasn’t for people so hurt already. This wasn’t a battlefield for the faint of heart. Even those who had steeled their souls would crumble at what she planned to do. She took in a breath and exhaled sharply. The air tasted good – crisp, fresh, peaceful.

Santa Cercido enjoyed quiet nights – another apology should have been extended to its residents for the chaos Holly was about to wrought.

“You know flowerpot,” jeered the Director. “I think you’ve tallied up quite the cost for this project. If you just did as you were told, we could spare ourselves both so much grief.”

Oh, how Holly wanted to wipe the smug grin off that man’s face. This routine had grown old and tired; their encounter began on an empty street at the edge of town, desolate, no witnesses – an arena meant for two.

It annoyed the plant that every confrontation started like this; the Director stepping out into the open by himself, only for his cryptid of choice to lunge out of the shadows to strike her down.

Not today.

An apple seed burned away.

Twelve left.

The grass on her head cringed as she could feel it dry from the pull of ultimate magic on her scale. Though in that same instant, the apple seed had blessed her body with Sage Lanvi’s abundant greenery as it spilled from her form with a call: “Artemis Arktoi, Ultrissimo!”

Three trees erupted from the ground; twisting, crunching, splintering as rooted flora became mobile fauna taking the shape of great brown bears carved of wood. Fearsome beasts answered only to the one who summoned them: “Attack!”

An annoyed click of the tongue met this ferocious force. “Stop wasting the product!” shouted the Director. To meet the savage ultimate level spell, the three cryptids all familiar in form leaped from the darkness and intercepted the summons.

The Not Deer fared the worst; not built for physical combat, it was thrown away like a ragdoll. Much to Holly’s annoyance the the Skeljaskrímsli and Grootslang not only held their ground, but threw away the bears that charged them without breaking a sweat. The bears hit the ground with enough force that their loud impact earned a flinch from Holly.

“Don’t attack them,” advised the Director. “Hit the girl.”

Either he was aware of the properties of Artemis Arktoi, or he just hated her that much. Given her adversary, it was a coin toss of possibilities. The more nuanced commands he gave the cryptids elevated the stakes; she wouldn’t be dealing with simple beasts tonight.

“Come on back!” Holly demanded of her own.

Seeing the sturdiness of nature’s ultimate attack pushed down the small unease in her heart. The bears scrambled back to their zalavan summoner and stood in a defensive formation around her. The trio of cryptids awaited further commands as they kept a careful gaze on their target.

“You fancy yourself a Maestro?” taunted the Director.

Eleven left.

Primordial heat welled up in her – this wasn’t a consuming blaze but the gentle knowledge stolen from the gods: “Fuoco di Prometeo, Ultrissimo!” A golden flame flickered to life behind Holly, and a glow wrapped around her and the bears she summoned – her rhythm warmed, flowing freer than ever, and her bears shared in this overwhelming power.

The Director shook his head. “The more of those you waste, the harsher your punishment is going to be.”

“Maybe that’ll drive me to the solar ultimate,” Holly snarked back.

A cold silence fell upon the battlefield; Holly almost relished in the fact. It was a shame it lasted but a fleeting moment.

“On second thought, I’ll be doing the world a favor by plucking your petals.” He regarded the three cryptids that were lined up in front of him. “Ignore the bears,” he spat a familiar command. “Tear off her limbs,” was the new addition.

The three cryptids charged again, with greater ferocity than before. While the Not Deer pivoted around the summons, the other two still held their previous orders and tossed the bears away. The summons so callously thrown met the pavement with enough might to crack the sturdy surface.

“Tch…” Holly ground her teeth, bracing herself as the three enemies all drew back to strike. She bent her knees and tensed, her line of sight focused not on her impending doom, but the prize at the end of it.

Ten left.

The electrical pathways in her body surged to life as more and more power flooded into her. Every route through every neuron reached peak efficiency and beyond. “Scintilla di Saggezza, Ultrissimo!” The perception of time slowed as her mind began to race. She moved like guided lightning and broke sound itself with a thunderclap that signaled the start of her mad dash. Underneath her blistering speeds the dirt parted like mist. She easily passed the three cryptids, her own bears, and finally reached her target.

Nine left.

Water was a destructive force, and the pressure flooded her body, filling her to the brim with this knowledge. “Tagliatore di Diamanti, Ultrissimo!” She unleashed the might of Sage Marovo’s blessed oceans, the razor edges of their great pressure aimed to erase this member of the executive board.

...unfortunately as vast as the might of the seas were they could still be dodged. She wasn’t even sure how he managed the feat; his jump was too fast and too high for a mere human. The might of water couldn’t be stemmed once cast and a clean path was cleaved through the trees as vicious blades of salt rend the forest in twain. Holly only hoped no hunters happened to be in the path of that missed attack.

Her focus snapped back to battle upon hearing her enemy issue another command.

“Lanciafiamme, Fortissimo Staccato!” the Director shouted. Three streams of fire rapidly closed in on her. Both left and right were secured and the way the center pillar arced, the front and back would be covered. She had no way to dodge in incoming assault.

Eight left.

A calm washed through her mind and scale, as her muscles and adrenaline stilled. “L’oggetto Immobile, Ultrissimo!” Holly remained firmly rooted in place as fire washed all around her. The flames coiled around her like a deadly serpent. Yet she remained unbothered in the pool of heat, not even the grass atop her head wilted within such a maelstrom of hate. Unfortunately, invincibility had a price – by cutting herself off from harm, she secluded herself from support, which meant her previous ultimates faded away.

In the course of this extended tussle, the Director now stood where Holly herself had begun the battle, and she was in his spot. “Tch…” she spat off to the side as she broke the effects of L’oggetto Immobile herself.

“Again,” said the Maestro.

The three Resonators launched fire at the little zalavan. Holly wasn’t about to let herself get put into a loop, she moved faster this time.

Seven left.

She need not launch her next strike – from earth magic came the understanding of the crust which she stood, how solid it was, but in the grand scale of the cosmos how fragile it could be. From that fragility erupted immeasurable power: “Poseidone, Colui che Scuote la Terra, Ultrissimo!” The clouds were parted by a massive stone trident that struck the planet, tearing open the ground, and throwing the trio of Resonators off balance.

As the crust itself quaked from the impact of the vanishing trident, Holly stumbled, but remained upright like the proud little berry tree she was. Unfortunately, so did the director – she hated it. The formidable cryptids were strewn about and struggled to get to their feet – an opportunity.

Six left.

Lightning once more coursed through her. Where before it stayed within her body and her cells, this bolt was one of heavenly origin – handcrafted by the gods for her explicit use: “Fulmine di Zeus, Ultrissimo!” A bolt of lightning appeared in Holly’s hand, and she chucked it like a spear, aimed right at the Maestro. The Skeljaskrímsli made the noble sacrifice and took the bolt head on, being thrown backwards from the force of the blow, well out of view and the battle.

“Wait. They’re not immune to ultimates?” Holly breathed. She had only tried using one attack ultimate on them directly before. A being of myth wasn’t created by civilization? That made no sense. Then again cryptids as creatures didn’t make any sense.

Five left

She needed time to think. “Scintilla di Saggezza, Ultrissimo!”

The current that seized her body slowed the world around her again, but this time, she made distance while she racked her brain. Artemis Arktoi was good for buying time; he had to focus on being very careful not to hit them, lest they grow in intensity. Perhaps she could use them for zoning? Maybe.

Knowing the cryptids could be struck by the ultimates opened up new avenues for attack. She didn’t want to toy around with Scintilla di Civiltà – the Director’s mobility thus far had been so unnatural, so smooth.

She needed to deal with the cryptids plain and simple. They had been worn down from the intense battle. This would have killed most Resonators easily. But these weren’t most Resonators. Even the Skeljaskrímsli limped over to join its brethren for another round.

Four left.

“Artemis Arktoi, Ultrissimo.”

Sahji must have been feeling charitable as his number answered her summons: seven. A septuplet of bears sprouted from the soil and knew their mission immediately. As soon as they gained their mobility the crowd of mobile wood rushed their adversaries and piled onto the three cryptids. Their struggles were in vain as every blow made the wooden constructs fight even harder.

Holly had feared fire, and she’d guided water. She’d channeled lightning, she’d split the earth, and she’d been forged from nature. She’d gathered all that was solar and learned of all that was lunar.

Three left.

The seven elements flooded into every individual molecule that made up her frame, and in that chaotic instant she became the truest form of harmony. Peace, balance, equilibrium was achieved in her small body. She became the catalyst to unleash the force of rhythm penned by a forgotten author.

“Il Ottavo Elemento, Ultrissimo!”

From a single pointed palm, a beam of rainbow-colored radiance tore through the air, the force of which took every bit of strength she could muster to remain standing. For how she braced from her own savage attack, it struck its intended target: the writhing pile of bears and cryptids. Rather than exploding in one massive payload, the attack continued skyward funneling into both the sky and the ruined crust below them in a massive cyclone of prismatic light. All colors of the visible spectrum expelled brilliance through the night sky.

If the devastation rocking the port city’s edge hadn’t already been obvious enough, the light show that split the skyline in two would draw curious crowds.

As chaos faded to eerie silence, Holly allowed herself a short reprieve. Her newly minted bears perished in the insanity of the null ultimate level spell. “Super effective against everything,” she let out a short laugh.

THWICK

She coughed, her mouth filled with the distinct taste of iron. A hand snapped to her mouth as if to stem the escaping life. Her shaken gaze fell to the knife stuck in her chest, and the warmth that radiated from it, along with the distinct red that slowly crept through her jacket.

“And you know what they say, an unruly bush needs to be trimmed,” spoke the Director. His fourth cryptid pushing the blade into her.

“But this one should be uprooted.”

No tears escaped, only the essence of her life. This really was it then? After all this fuss she was going to die from the secret fourth cryptid? At least she was a pain in the ass to the very end.

Her body felt cold all of a sudden, the pain from the twisting knife faded, and her eyes closed for one final time. As she surrendered to the abyss, the last thing she saw were red petals fluttering by on a gentle, familiar breeze. Their owner’s words kept aloft by Sage Ceilto's guiding gales, just barely perceivable on the edge of fantasy and reality.

“Oh no you don’t!”
“You’re not done yet!”
“After everything you’ve been through?”
“Open your eyes and fight!”
“Kick, scream, struggle!”
“Let them know what a real zalavan is capable of!”

Through strength not her own, Holly kicked away her attacker, the knife flying away with her blood sticking to it. Borrowed strength faded, her vision blurred, her head swam as she stumbled back. The blood loss was getting to her. She was hearing things.

“Hey, Holly? Make the world a better place – for me?”

Two left.

Through the blood that invaded her throat she spoke her saving grace. “Fontana Dell'eterna Giovinezza, Ultrissimo!”

Where life should have ended, instead water was found. A fountain erupted within the zalavan, youthful bliss filled her body as lost blood was replaced, tears were mended, damage was undone. Even with this impressive feat, the spell remained in her body – she’d gladly steal from the fountain of youth so promised by ultimate magic. And for that she ran, her muscles as satisfied as being motionless even with dashing at speeds she could never hope to match without.

The fourth cryptid was in hot pursuit, but Holly saw an opportunity – a building closing in. One covered by nature, reclaimed by Sage Lanvi’s greenery.

One left.

Gentle darkness took over her heart. This was not the fear of the unknown, but the warmth of a good sleep, the promise that upon opening one’s eyes next the day will shine full of life and potential. This energy coalesced within her, and she let it out at her new enemy.

“Luna Rossa, Ultrissimo!”

She cast her eyes over her shoulder, still in full sprint and fired out a ball of inky shadows that struck the pursuing cryptid and expanded like a virus, easily sucking it in.

Even so, she tarried not – she ran into the failing structure before her.

Long abandoned by its owners, Holly recognized this as a shopping mall, similar to the one she had spent the day at with Solana…

The Resonator stopped in the central atrium. She touched her torn jacket her fingertips and traced the smooth skin exposed by a knife. “Besides, I know what I want to do now,” she whispered.

Where she had begun with thirteen, none remained.

Holly turned to the darkened walkway ahead. The clack of the Director’s dress shoes echoed throughout the dilapidated building. Alone she stood under moonlight that leaked through the skylight not envisioned by the mall’s designers.

“Madness is not something you can inflict on a creature born in it,” jeered the Director – his Resonator ready and waiting. A creature as twisted as those who had come before it, in each hand it held a small blade, slashing each edge against one another as it readied itself for battle.

“I am going to raze this world to cleanse its evils… burn everything until only the truth remains,” Holly recited.

A golden flame appeared behind her as the brilliance of Fuoco di Prometeo wrapped her form in radiance. It’s knowledge a warm, comfortable whisper.

“There will be good people too, who may be caught in my blaze.”

She regarded the flame with a smile. “They’ll need someone to save them, both from me and everything else.”

Without another word, it began – the cryptid charged at Holly, knives ready. It jumped, back mounted wings fluttering like a cape behind it. Two blades came down on the plant like sheers ready to prune the sprout.

Twofold steel was caught by one. Holly managed to hold the attack with her utility knife. An edge once meant for sewing was her final weapon.

She relaxed her hold and stepped back, allowing the cryptid to hit the ground. At that moment, she swung and struck true, a slash earned a squeal of pain from the cryptid. The Resonator flailed its weapons wildly, and Holly’s single blade defended its owner, clangs of steel meeting steel echoed through the capitalistic graveyard.

Holly jumped back, her glow following. The cryptid pursued, it lunged with one knife, holding the second in reserve. At the last second Holly side stepped, only her jacket suffering from the sharp edge. The wall claimed the first knife, but the second was held for this purpose; the cryptid swung again. Holly blocked. Her eyes glowed gold with radiant wisdom coursing through her.

It wasn’t that her reaction time was any faster than usual – this wasn’t like the lightning support ultimate.

No, she possessed ultimate knowledge; and in this one casting Holly was the best knife fighter on Riterra.

Every movement was deliberate, every twitch served a purpose, every flick and pivot of her wrist joints moved her towards her final goal.

Metal met metal time and time again. Though where the cryptid swung wildly, aiming for vital organs, Holly deflected each blow with practiced precision. She didn’t know it was possible to frustrate a cryptid – yet here she was, driving this creature of madness insane.

Their dance around the atrium pressed on, the moon bearing witness to their performance as they traded blows. Where the cryptid tried to stab her heart, it failed, only catching air and maybe a bit of cloth if she allowed it. Where the cryptid went for the jugular, if failed, a blade of grass tickled the vicious steel. Where the cryptid swept for femoral, it failed, and only a girl’s giggle followed.

“FOCUS!” the Director barked.

The cryptid’s wings extended out, and it took flight. As if moved by instinct, Holly threw her knife as if firing the blade like an arrow, cleaving straight through the ascending one’s wings like a clay target. Another scream of anguish echoed through the halls of the abandoned shopping center.

Holly darted under her descending adversary and retrieved her thrown knife. She spun and met the blade of the enraged beast once more. Steel whipped past her head as her weapon finally shattered under the intense pressure of battle. Yet she still moved as if she held a complete blade.
Again the cryptid thrust its blade forward, and she matched its intensity with a thrust handle. The tip slipped between the now vacant openings between the grip and with a flick of her wrist neither combatant carried a knife.

The cryptid locked up. Holly did not.

THWACK

Holly understood at that moment why Natacha always threw punches: it felt damn good to follow through.

The bat winged cryptid slammed into the hard tile and slid to a stop, unmoving. Holly breathed out hard, the glow from her spell fading along with all of its benefits. Her body felt like lead at the bottom of the ocean, but she knew it wasn’t over.

He still stood.

The Director clapped. He clapped for such a long time, as if he was an audience of thousands. And when his grand gesture was complete, he reached into his suit jacket and allowed it to remain for a moment.

“Well done. You’ve bested four cryptids, some of our best. But now, I need to tie up this loose end. We’ve spent too much money on this proof of concept.”

The zalavan found herself staring down the barrel of a weapon even she knew he shouldn’t have had. A gun.

A cold sight in both weapon and holder trained on her head, ready to snipe her in an instant. She had zero seeds, zero energy, zero hope for escape. Yet the fire in her stubborn heart refused to die. The Director relished in the moment, as his fingertip caressed the trigger of his weapon.

He could have ended it at any second – she had no seeds left, no blade left, her body was beyond useless, only keeping her conscious to watch its own demise.

“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly spoke. The attention of two snapped to a group of four: a Maestro and three Resonators stood on one of the crumbling walkways. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but my chat won’t shut up – was that a chupacabra?”

The Director stood frozen in horror at sudden appearance of the previous unseen actor. The gun fell from his hand, clattering to the ground as if he himself had been shot. After all he had been through, after all the trouble Holly had made for him, after all the money spent on this endeavor – this is what finally cracked the man’s calm demeanor.

The roar that followed was probably the most satisfying thing to ever grace Holly’s ears. “YOOOOOUUUU!”

“DID YOU PLAN THIS?!” snarled the executive.

Holly wore the widest toothy grin she could muster. Even with no strength left, she found enough to stoke his blazing wrath. “WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING?! I SET THE TRAP AND YOU WALKED RIGHT INTO IT! ALL OF THIS WENT DOWN LIKE CLOCKWORK!” She thrust a triumphant fist into the air.

“I just got lucky, but thinking I outsmarted him will drive him nuts.”