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rainsonata · 5 years

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Doppelgänger 5/15

Chapter 05: Smokes and Mirrors

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: M Word Count: 7,006

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —

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Class Notes:

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen

Alternative Path: Rune Slayer, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

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Knight Emperor

He was floating, fading in and out of consciousness in the depths of the mind. When Knight’s mind surfaced, the pain returned to his sense, tiny needles streaming pass his pores. Red flashed past his vision and his eyes snapped open. His hands reached for his chest, feeling for a heart pulsing through. Heavy audible breaths and the smell of moss greeted the knight.

Cave, Knight grasped to make form a cohesive thought. He was trapped in a demon-infested cavern. Demons stronger than the ones he and his friends have fought in the past. The biggest one had geodes growing from is back and its insides - no, the demon was a crystal monster. It could have broken his spine into two if not for…

The red-haired knight held his gaze at the man in front of him. A scar in the form of a pink jagged line slashing downward, lanky limbs dangling to the sides, and translucent skin thin as parchment paper. Who was he? Why did he share the same face as Bringer, who was nowhere as thin or gangly as this stranger?

“Add?” He backed into a wall.

“Elsword!” Mad Paradox exclaimed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Elsword!”

“Why do you keep saying my name?” Knight was frustrated.

“Elsword!” He feigned disapproval. “Is that how you greet an old friend? This is the part where you thank me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Or do you~?” Paradox sang.

Knight kept his lips sealed into a straight line. He knew Bringer, but he never met this man. This could be a trap. It was an attempt to get him to talk, that had to be the case. There was no hiding it that he was on his own and was vulnerable once cornered by multiple enemies. As the leader of the El Search Party, Knight was the perfect target because he had access to information about the El that any of their enemies would use to their advantage. If outsiders knew why they were in Demon Realm, that would put his friends in danger, a risk Knight wasn’t willing to test. Not after the effort they poured into rescuing him. He wasn’t going to put their efforts in vain without repaying them.

What was Paradox? He didn’t look like a Henir cultist with the purple and magenta color scheme in contrast to the black and electric blue monsters in Elrianode. Unlike Henir cultists, the time traveler acted by himself when the cultists always appeared in bigger groups with monsters in their wake. The black sclera reminded him of the demons in Lanox, but that couldn’t be it. His movements were too fluid to belong to those of a demon.

Ishtar was never going to let him off the hook if he was to ever suggest that demons lacked grace.

“Why the bleak face?” Paradox chuckled, “You can talk to me. I don’t bite.”

“Tell me what happened,” Knight wasn’t as convinced.

“Someone got lost and the cute monster said goodnight.”

“I fought demons and a bigger one,” Knight said with curtness.

“Avoidable battles if you weren’t running and screaming so much,” Paradox rolled his eyes, iridescence and mechanical in eerie uncanniness. “Why are Elbrats so loud?”

Jagged ridges graveled to the ceiling and the walls enclosing the cavern, paving uneven paths the Dark Agate left behind. Limestone lined the walls and peeled away. Crystals from the ground up and black ink blots painted the ground until coming to an abrupt halt midway to where Knight sat. His forearm was cracked with dry blood and scar tissue forming where it hurt the most, wincing when he stretched and pulled a tendon.

Crushed boulders trampled over, stalagmites and stalactites shattered into pieces and the ground weakened from the fight Knight had with the crystal monster. Pebbles crumbled under his boots into fine dust. The cave echoed with the sound of water dripping from the ceiling, sharp hisses from an unknown source unseen by the knight. He squinted for lines of purple amethysts, his gaze wandering to the ledge leading to the abyss below.

“Where’s the monster?”

“Gone.” Paradox teased, “Do you miss it already?”

Again with the all-knowing tone and shit-eating grin like they knew each other. This man was crazy acting like they were somehow connected. Calling himself an old friend and now commenting on his fighting style. How would Paradox know about why he preferred taking on his opponents first on first over sneaking around and avoiding fights? He was a knight, not an assassin.

Although… Paradox wasn’t wrong on pointing out the obvious. Hours of getting ambushed by demons placed a toll on Knight’s energy and resources. By the time he faced the Dark Agate, he was low on stamina and lacked the initial vitality he had at the beginning of his trek through the cave. Knight came in blind with the belief that it would fight like the smaller monsters, a beginner’s mistake that deserved much chastise. Perhaps he let his arrogance get into his head because a child was with him and Knight wanted to prove that everything would be okay.

Anger flickered in his core. How stupid could he be? It was no better than cutting corners in training for the sake of flashiness. There was a flash of pain replaced by numbness and a period of timeless nothingness, but he was…

“Alive,” Knight held up his hands. Fingerless gloves steeped in iron red, a reeking metallic smell mixed with his sweat. Whispering to himself, “I’m alive. How?”

“Can’t let the main character die in a side story, now, can I?” Paradox cackled.

Knight realized. He was rescued by Paradox, not unlike the many times Bringer watched his back in Elrianode. An explanation he pieced together with the minimal informal he had, but it failed to answer more persisting questions. The time traveler spoke in rhetoric suggesting the impossible, an observer from another realm.

Perplexed, Knight naturally wanted to ask more but stopped himself in realizing that would only result in more cryptic answers from the noodle spaceman. His answers were as vague as to how or why the El Search Party kept fighting brainwashed enemies for the past few years. One would think half of Elrios was brainwashed from the number of unavoidable fights they had. ��

“And the child?” Knight asked. Surely there was something of them left if he was alive. When Paradox didn’t answer, he yanked on the time traveler’s collar, forcing the other to lean down at his eye level. “What happened to them?”

Still smiling, Paradox laughed. “What child?”

“There was a child,” Knight explained. “They were with me, they-”

“Were they, now?” Paradox snickered. “A dangerous place for children to wander into such as yourself.”

“I’m eighteen years old,” he growled.

“Hardly a difference.”

“They were defenseless and I was the only one who could fight.”

He told them to stay close to him, hang on and let him take care of the Dark Agate. Leaving a child alone would have made them into an easy target for the crystal monster to pray upon. What option did Knight have without risking another life? In the end, he wasn’t strong and he had no one else to rely on. Not even someone who was as elusive as the child could avoid those shards when the monster let the lights out.

The child pulled no strains with their weight when Knight lifted them up, less than what one would expect for a child of their height and age. Up close, a deep scar marked against one side of their cheek, a zigzag and a pair of asymmetrical eyes. Black sclera identical to ones looking into Knight’s field of vision with a devious expression.

Horror breached Knight’s thoughts. No. No, no, no, no, no, please no. He knew fate had a crude sense of humor and loved irony, but he didn’t want to deal with this again. Dread prickled his tanned skin when a pair of black gloves held his chin up. The undersides were hot pink, almost red.

“You’re the child?” Knight choked.

Paradox clapped his hands and beamed, “Congratulations! You’re faster than the last Elsword.”

“I’ve been protecting an old man?”

“Twenty-one, brat.” Paradox laughed, “Did you enjoy my gift?”

The greatsword in Knight’s hand suddenly felt heavier in his hands, the redhead aware that its original owner was not present. This belonged to Rune, his counterpart. They were the same, yet there were distinctive differences that made them separate people. If Rune was here, the rest of the El Search Party couldn’t be far behind.

The blade held a shine and a thicker build than what Knight was used to, a type of metal favored by battle mages to amplify their magic. Sparks flew from the blade when struck against boulders. His counterpart chose to compensate for their shared weakness of magic, why didn’t Knight think of that?

“This isn’t mine,” Knight said.

“A little mix-up,” Paradox was less concerned about the details. “That fight you had with the demon took longer than I anticipated. You’re not ready for Rosso.”

“Ready for who?” Knight demanded to know.

Sharp pain seized his chest, his insides twisted. Knight hugged his stomach, reminding himself to keep his breaths even, fanning himself with his hand and leaning forward with his sword for support. He wiped his forehead and hugged his sides. Colors blurred in a mess of tears as Knight applied pressure to his forehead. He may be alive, but experience told him that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The pain dulled into discomfort, persisting in his abdomens and chest. Knight lowered his head and wanted to throw up whatever Rage put into the dried meat.

Knight cursed.

“Oops, looks like the Time Sickness finally kicked in.” Paradox said with an unapologetic giggle.

Time what? Knight didn’t like the sound of that and turned pale, “What are you doing playing around with me? What did you do to me?”

“You still don’t get it?” Paradox feigned annoyance, lips curled up and showing his teeth. “Ah, right. It’s your first time. I’ll have to fix that.”

Lights went out.

Crystals glistened in the blackened space, magenta flashed in the form of Paradox’s suit and artificial eye. The sound of gravel and something cracking under pressure snapped Knight’s attention to the source, waving his sword in the uncomfortable darkness.

When the lights returned, the older man was no longer where he once was. Dark laughter flooded his eardrums in unison with unnerving cackling. Paradox emerged from the ceiling, head sticking out from a ripple in the dimension, torn into pieces for the time traveler to tinker with as he pleased. Below him was the Dark Agate holding the ominous lantern in its hand.

Paradox had a fluid gait, crossing his legs one over the other with the skill of an acrobat walking over a wire with fear absent in his stance. He lacked the guarded tension hallmark of most adventurers in a cave home to demons and monsters. Hands over the wall, manipulating Dynamo with the same familiarity Knight had with his sword.

Crystal shards rained down on Paradox, thin needles penetrating him with the older male barking an ugly sob and guffawing in pain. His body shuddered and his limbs went limp without struggling as the Dark Agate scooped him up, claws curled at Paradox’s chest. A loud crunch broke from the darkness.

Knight looked away. He wanted to hurl. It crushed Paradox like grains of sand, no time for the older man to even cry or choke before his life was stolen. The redhead drew his sword with unsteady hands, dread and tranquil anger sending sparks at his fingertips. Knight’s eyes fluttered to discover that the traveler’s body missing.

A dimension ripped open from above, sliding to where the monster was for gravitational spheres to downpour with intensity shaking the ground from the bottom up. Rough crystal formed at the edges of the portal and a figure dressed in black appeared, phase shifting next to Knight.

His left shoulder blade shattered into diamond shards; Paradox’s body lost visibility in shape and electricity emitted from his core. There were no holes in his clothes or blood to suggest he had been injured in the fight. It was as if Paradox was never wounded.

Paradox ripped open a portal with his hands, clawing at the edges with his hands. Pulling his foot into the entrance, he stretched and widened the portal with his arms and legs until it was the size of the Dark Agate. He reappeared from behind, generating energy and shoving the monster into the abyss. The older male moved the portal to the ground level as the opening shrunk in size. An arm was torn off from sharp edges applying pressure to the Dark Agate’s arm reaching out for them. Paradox kicked the still twitching arm and stomped until it ceased its movements and fell silent.

Knight gawked at the other man dusting blood off his sleeves, “Your spine. It snapped. The monster, you-”

“Awww, look at you.” Paradox cooed, “Seal of Time reduced you to an infant.”

“What was that?”

He grinned, "can’t die if you undo time on yourself."

That’s why they were alive after fighting that monster. Paradox unwinded their injuries and restored their lives. With powers like that, Paradox had time and luxury to learn the enemies’ tactics and won otherwise impossible battles. But why would he have an interest in keeping Knight alive? The time traveler cheated death more than once, but how much would that unhinge a person?

“What do you want from me?” Knight asked weakly.

“What kind of popcorn do you like?” Paradox didn’t answer, as usual.

Knight blinked, “I’m sorry, what?”

Apsara

Sky blue eyes glaring with intensity directed only to her. Azure locks flowed over their flawless features, too clear and smooth to belong to a person whose posture was accustomed to the battlefield. Light flashed under the melancholic moon. Her opponent summoned a wide array of spears, clashing against hers and sending white sparks flying like the fireworks she lit up at the summer festivals as a child.

The man standing before the spear user held a stand hand over his weapons, pointed spears emerging from his palms with ease. White gloves gripped over the pair of weapons, the color of glass reminiscent to the stairs and platforms in the Hall of El. Iridescent and emitting a blinding light, forcing Apsara to shield her eyes.

Was this man really Ain? He wielded a white gold pendulum with gold trims at the edges. His white attire and demeanor reminded her more of a mercenary than the priest Bluhen was, charging towards Apsara with no mercy at his disposal. There was no hesitance, going for her blind spots if she failed to cover her bases and stand guard. Projecting one spear after another, it was a macabre dance of blades, furrowed brows deepening in time to his precise footwork. Right foot up, left foot back, holding his stance and unflinching when Apsara pulled back and forced her weight against his.

“Don’t let him heal!” Chevalier shouted.

A lotus flower formed as Apsara spun her spear in a figure eight, launching the ball of energy and shoving her opponent back. Knocking Richter off his feet, Apsara smacked the priest with the end of her spear. She leaped into the air, performing a somersault midair and diving in to slam her weight against the man. Air escaped from Richter, choking on his saliva and struggled to break free. Apsara missed him by a mere hair and charged with her spear in hand, audible gasps rippled through the cold air as she attacked.

Richter gritted his teeth, anger flickered in his features. A forced serene facade masked over a fury reaching through his attacks. He fought a losing battle against four, but he persisted. Static surged from his palms and wind picked surrounded the man, drawing more blades and launching himself several meters into the air, turning his head to face his other opponents.

A tall Nasod dressed in white with a black helmet swung a chained sword, Oberon phase shifting and crossing blade with a heavy clang. Two drones floated midair, engaged in a transversal angle. Lasers blasted from the drones, spinning and converging energy aiming for their target.

“Tell us what happened to Elsword,” Esencia talked over the clashing blades.

Richter breathed heavy breathes, shoving Oberson’s head down and using his knee to hit the lower jaw, pushing the Nasod servant away. He fired deliberate projectiles to Esencia’s drones, hitting and shifting them at the base.

Apsara squeaked and ducked from a laser pointing to where her head once was. That was a close call! The spear user hung her head and sweated bullets. She was glad Esencia was on their side, but having the Nasod Queen’s attacks directed back was a terrifying thought for the young woman. Her hair remained frizzled from proximity to the energy beam, sinking her body and crawling over to Esencia to avoid another laser.

“Then you understand that he isn’t yours,” Richter spoke. A deep harsh echo carried in his voice, “Are you aware of the consequences for your actions?”

“He’s not with us,” Chevalier said. He and Ishtar circled the priest, keeping distance in a guarded stance, gun blades and soul spears ready for sudden movement.

“I wasn’t addressing you, Blue Demon.” Richter glared at the butler.

“How dare you talk to Ciel like that!” Ishtar pointed her soul spear at the priest, “What are you doing with a weapon you have no right to claim?”

Her wings wavered, a cyan blue membrane stretched over thin bone structures and beating the air with anger in the tiny demon’s features. Ishtar whined when her butler blocked her from lunging at Richter, fuming and crossing her arms.

“I apologize for that,” Chevalier said with equal iciness as the priest. “You must understand how important Elsword is to us. We just want to know how you came into possession of his sword.”

“Is that what this is about?” Richter pulled out the greatsword from his belt and sighed, “Humans and demons alike show unnecessary concern over materialistic things that hold no value. This weapon will not bring him back.”

Apsara protested, “Please, it’s important to him! If you’re Ain, why are you fighting us? Aren’t you friends with Elsword? I’m sure he wouldn’t want this!”

Recognition sparked from Richter’s expression, anger? Fear? Emotions alternating with one another before he settled for indifference and narrowed his eyes, “Ms. Fox in White. No, Devi. ”

Bluhen had abilities that garnered wariness from Eun’s end, but he was a patient man and did not judge when she asked him to explain something in simpler terms. He had a child-like wonder in everything that made him gained stares when they visited towns. After Bluhen nearly ran the team bank dry because he discovered cinnamon rolls, Apsara decided he was harmless. Anyone who had a sweet tooth couldn’t be all that bad, could they?

This stranger who responded to the name Ain… He stole Knight’s sword, gave them crude nicknames, and treated them like they were the enemy. Why did Richter call her by that name? Apsara wanted to believe there was a reason behind Richter’s behavior, but little emotions were revealed when Esencia asked what happened to Knight.

Be careful, Ara. A feminine voice whispered in the back of Apsara’s mind, I sense something about him.

What is it, Eun? Apsara asked, The Dark El?

No. The fox spirit paused, High levels of energy resonates from him, more than Ain. Let me take over.

Apsara shook her head, He must know something about Elsword if he has his greatsword.

Knight had to be nearby if his sword was found by someone else. There were others with Richter, their shapes unrecognizable in the shadows and concealed by the night. How many, she could not tell, but it was an impressive size, at least a dozen of them. Could they be humans the dark elves mentioned this morning?

Apsara quivered her lips, hard pressed in finding the positives in their situation. It felt like they were interrogating Richter instead of talking to an ally. Not unlike the shadows they have fought in Hamel and the Hall of El, Richter was averse to answering their questions, disdain was apparent in his brief and curt answers. But Richter was different. He held a will of his own and reason. Despite not drawing his weapons back, the priest had them lowered and was listening, even if reluctantly.

“If you know anything about what happened to Elsword, tell us!” Apsara pleaded, “We haven’t seen him in two days and we don’t know where he went!”

“I don’t know any of you.” Richter said with an even tone, “And I’ve never met this Elsword of yours. Elsword is with you-”

“Which one?” Esencia asked.

Ishtar mused. “Having more than one Elsword makes this conversation confusing.”

“Where did you find the sword?” Chevalier asked, “If I may ask.”

“In the forest,” Richter replied. “You have my duplicate with you, but he failed to find it before me? Are you done interrogating?”

No use, Apsara lowered her head in defeat. If only Knight was here…maybe Richter would have listened. The redhead was good with words and preventing situations from escalating like Empire, but neither of the Sieghart siblings was present. What would Empire do if she was here? Would she smile and reassure Richter or put her foot down and lay down what needed to be accomplished to make the discussion work? Empire made talking to people look easier than it actually was!

“Ain had a lot on his mind,” Apsara clutched her hands around her spear. “I’m sure you do too!”

“Your Elsword is not with me,” Richter tensed. “Where is Mr. Half-Nasod with no shirt?”

Rage Hearts? The mercenary escaped with the rest of the El Search Party because of the sudden appearance of their opposites. Were they really mirrors of themselves? From the few members Apsara had met, they were strong-willed, unwavering on their opinions and determined to retrieve Rune. It was true that Rune wasn’t their leader, but he was still Elsword, so maybe he could be helpful in helping them find Knight.

If Knight wasn’t with Richter, where could he be? Was he lost in the forest somewhere surrounded by demons, waiting for them to find him? Empire tried contacting him through their communicators for hours, but no one picked up. Were they too late that something happened to him? Or was he taken somewhere far and away from where the connection between them has weakened?

Knight had to be alive, she mumbled a prayer and pursed her lips. If something happened to him, Empire would be left with no family, just like her. Apsara couldn’t bare to see the knight captain suffer, not after everything they have gone together.

Apsara breathed, “You’ll have to catch up with our friends if you want to see Raven.”

“Noted.” Richter vanished from the crowd encircling him, appearing behind Apsara, “Then I understand that I must take on those that defy the goddess.”

With projectile weapons materializing in his palms, energy surged as Richter leaped. Six spears encircled the priest, casting them to where her spine was. Apsara turned and raised her spear, but Chevalier beat her to it, shielding the attack with a cross-shaped gunblade larger than the butler. Ishtar launched herself into the air, soul spears forming at her fingertips to counteract Richter’s. The priest backed away to the sight of Esencia and Oberson joining the demon sovereign in the fight, back to back with the Nasod Queen giving orders to her servants.

“What is he doing?” Ishtar growled.

“I think we angered him,” Chevalier ushered her to stand behind his gunblade. “Get ready for cover!”

Blue lines shone from above, a paradigm grid forming and crossing over in loops and lines into an array of magic circles. Raised in the air was Richter looking down and weapons materializing for the priest to grasp in his hands, more floating beside him. Spears and projective weapons showered down as the magic circles glowed.

Apsara twirled in a half-step, using her spear to leap away from the countless weapons crashing down her path, using her weight to pull herself from harm’s way. She nearly tripped over falling debris, scrambling to pull herself up and dodge a spear aiming for her foot. The earth shook in vibration to the intensity of their battle. Tucking her spear under her arms, Apsara curled her body into a tight ball and rolls away. She overheard Esencia throwing commands to Oberon and Ophelia to help Ishtar and Chevalier.

Her feet barely touching the ground, Esencia hovered with a raised arm. “Heaven’s Fist!”

The Nasod queen grabbed her roughly by the shirt, lifting and pushing Apsara away. She landed behind Ishtar and Chevalier. Clothes torn from the fight and suffered a few cuts, but the demon and butler were otherwise unharmed.

A Nasod arm raised in unison with Esencia, descending as she gave the command. The giant mechanical arm sent shockwaves as it crushed its sole target. Dust and debris clouded her vision and made Apsara gag, waving her hand and covering her mouth. Once things began to clear, she could make out the outline of a tall figure.

A swordsman in a white hooded jacket trimmed with black fur and a tan complexion emerged from the settled dust. His blade was of a blue metallic, its handle grip wrapped in black ribbons held by his left arm. Gold eyes hardened when they formed eye contact.

“Raven,” Esencia identified the man.

“Eve,” Blade lowered his blade. “I see you have found one of our comrades.”

Apsara gasped in seeing the older male. That look again; she was worried. It held the same disdain Richter gave her. Apsara wasn’t used to being at the receiving end of scorn and indifference. It took her a moment to recognize that Blade’s left jacket sleeve cut around the shoulder area to make room for a mechanical but sleeker Nasod arm. She had almost mistaken the arm for a human one with how smooth and fluid its movements were. Blade used his Nasod arm to wield his sword, a contrast to Rage.

Arm pulled over Blade’s shoulder, Richter limped in his walk. His hair lost its shine and returned to a darker shade of the sky. Cuts and bruises decorated his skin exposed to the elements.

“You took too long,” Richter said.

“We’re limited on members,” Blade replied. “Can you still walk?”

Richter nodded.

“Let’s go,” Blade pulled out a sphere from his jacket pocket and tossed it at their feet.

Mist evaporated, dense fog obscuring their vision. Apsara reached for where the two men once were, only to run her hands through nothing. Gone. Where have they disappeared? The young woman turned to see her friends following her.

“They’ll be back,” Esencia said. “Raven is not one to run away.”

“Diplomacy seems to be out of the question,” Chevalier rubbed his head. “Not ones to talk, are they?”

“Did you see the way Ain talked to us?” Ishtar fumed. “He looked down at us like we were inferiors!”

We need to be cautious, Eun warned her. They could be planning something.

I know, Apsara thought with sadness. Would things have worked differently if she was more cautious in her words?

Sensing her distress, Eun reassured the young woman. You did what you could. No time to regret what has been done.

Apsara looked into the mist with sadness.

Furious Blade

Blade rested his head against the base of a tree not too far to where they have encountered their friends’ counterparts. There were at least four of them when Blade found Richter cornered by them, weapons raised. Sweat patched over his forehead, the older male looked up to one of the Demon Realm’s numerous moons, clenching his Nasod arm into a tight fist and releasing. Wiggling his left digits left a tinge of an emotion Blade hasn’t felt since he last saw his father. Wonder and amazement to how human-like the motions were, no longer claws gripping over his palm.

Calibrated to be sensitive to the slightest touch, it processed information from its owner as quickly as a natural one would, maybe faster. It was one of Dominator’s better inventions that didn’t involve lasers, although the scientist proclaimed he was more than happy to change that. Mentions of an auto-tracking rocket arm were the last straw where Blade had to put his foot down. Ultimate’s suggestions for spears wasn’t helping things either. The swordsman let out an audible sigh on his teammates’ lack of tact. Let him use his arm for its intended purpose!

“What were you doing fighting four people at once?” Anemos applied pressured over Richter’s open wounds with a cotton ball.

“They had Elsword,” Richter replied.

“You should have ran away or called for backup!” She snapped, “One of us could have come and helped!”

The priest did not protest but kept his head lowered. Lips visibly quivering, his shoulders shook as Richter let out shallow gasps from the short sprint they endured. It was a rare event for the celestial to use his feet to run rather than using external forces to propel himself off the ground. There were limited magical sources for Richter to rely on, forcing him into making pragmatic decisions in saving his energy for more immediate matters.

Blue hair drenched in sweat and red dirt, he reminded Blade of a demon plant minus the deadly neurotoxins. His skin flushed pink and had glassy eyes, blinking rapidly and mumbling prayers to an unseen being Blade had lost faith to years ago. Richter was strong, but his unbreaking loyalty reminded him of the comrades he once worked with, before Owen…

“And they didn’t let you see the brat?” Dominator looked up from his screens. “Who did you see?”

“Elsword wasn’t with them,” Blade frowned.

Anemos and Dominator caught him up with the details of what happened when they came into contact with their counterparts. They caught Richter in possession of something that belonged to one of their friends. Pleads and excuses were lost amid the fighting and confusion. The swordsman rubbed his forehead in frustration when he caught sight of his alternate throwing Rune over their shoulder. Of course it had to be his counterpart, Blade looked up to see a dark sky. The universe seemed to enjoy pitting him against himself on more than one occasion. Hopefully, this Raven will be more open to reason than the previous ones.

“Both of the Demons were there.” Richter pressed his hand over another cotton ball over his opened wound as Anemos wrapped a bandage over. His lips tightened into a straight line, “and Ms. Fox.”

Lights flickered out from Dynamo, holographic screens dissipated into thin lines and Dominator stopped typing. The scientist turned to Richter, mumbling to himself and biting his lower lip in anger. Dynamo twitched in unison with their master, blinking purple light that made it distracting for Blade to watch without closing his eyes.

“She’s with them?” Dominator cursed, “Of all luck to deal with her.”

“Do we really have to fight her?” Anemos rested her hand over her brow.

“What else will it be?” Dominator growled, “That’s what she does. Have you seen what they’ve done to this guy?”

Richter leveraged his arm to test for pain, pressing his finger over the bandage with a light tap and twisting his wrists for movement. Potions and elixirs sped up the healing process, but it didn’t ease the tension between them in seeing the injuries on their teammate. If Blade hasn’t found Richter earlier, how long would the priest last in a fight? Richter was easily outnumbered by well-coordinated fighters with years of experience. Blade didn’t expect anything less from their alternates. Their numbers and adaptability were what made them strong. Close bonds only made that more so.

“Elsword isn’t with them, so shouldn’t we reprioritize whether to fight them?” Richter asked. “It’s clear that their motive is to separate us from the others to reduce our number.”

“We can’t ignore the possibility of her going after our friends,” Blade said. “Our fight at the very least will slow her down.”

“That’s a bleak outlook,” Anemos commented. “Have more faith in us.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust our efforts,” Blade rubbed his neck. “It’s our luck.”

It couldn’t be helped that they would have to confront their counterparts, but that didn’t make it any easier for Blade to accept without thinking of the possibilities. Another unavoidable fight, he thought with bitterness. It was going to be troublesome sorting things out, especially with himself. The last time Blade tried to reason with himself ended with ruffled tail feathers and a one sided fight.

“Then what is our objective?” Richter asked.

“Slow down their progress,” Blade said. “Don’t let them catch up with the rest of their group. If you can take them down, do it. We don’t want to prolong a fight and waste our resources if it’s something that can be helped.”

Brutal words, but pragmatic in a situation such as theirs. They hardly had the luxury to adjust to their new environment before they encountered the other El Search Party. It was uncertain how long their alternates have stayed in the Demon Realm, but it was evident that they were more familiar with their environment from their strategic placement and movement. They were at a disadvantage going against a group that was more familiar with their surroundings than they were.

“Why are you looking at me for answers?” Blade gripped his blade, his fingers trembling over the handle.

Dominator scoffed, “you’re always bossing us around like we’re children.”

“So we leave as quickly as we come.” Anemos mused, “and what about Ara?”

Blade turned pale. Right… a strategy to combat the woman who shared Devi’s face. Luckily, the alternates wore different clothes, so they couldn’t mistake them as their own teammates, but it didn’t make fighting them any easier. Apsara was still a skilled fighter and would likely be as brutal as her counterpart if given a reason to be.

“Ms. Fox-in-White is the most dangerous in close combat,” Richter said. “The Demons are more synchronized.”

If Ultimate was here, Blade would have sent her to fight Apsara, but she was with Flame and Phantom. Splitting their party into smaller groups had the advantage of covering more ground, but it was important that there was at least one person with the ability or technology to detect Elsword. Dominator would be just as sufficient in keeping distance between himself and the martial artist. His drones could be meddlesome for close-range fighters.

“That sounds like our friends all right.” Anemos adjusted her gloves. “Is there anything else we should know about who we’re fighting?” Anemos asked.

The priest glanced at Dominator to the side, hesitant in his answer. “Ms. Empress is with them.”

“The Queen?” Dominator drawled, hands clasped and fingers crossed. “Tell me more.”

Confused by the scientist’s sudden eagerness, Richter threw a quizzical look to Dominator.

“Three more Nasods were with her,” he reported. “One is tall and carries a sword, another uses projectiles, and there was a little one with her.”

The Nasod Scout? The appearance of the smaller Nasod flashed in Blade’s mind. Hoisted by claw-like appendages, it crawled on its fours like a crab and used its size to attack unexpected enemies. Esencia having control over multiple Nasods was new, but the return of the Nasod Scout was relieving news. At least not everything about their alternates was completely different.

“They move on their own accord and wait for orders. They won’t fight unless she’s nearby,” the priest continued, “Ms. Empress has the most drastic change in how she fights.”

The description eerily resembled the Nasods under Adam’s command. They were weak, but their creator mass-produced them at an alarming rate. Ultimate didn’t have that ability, so Blade prayed that the same applied to this Eve. The swordsman was not as enthusiastic as Dominator about the possibility of fighting Nasods again.

“Lu, Ciel, Ara, and Eve.” Anemos murmured, “And they work well together from what Ain told us. Who will go after Elsword in the meantime?”

“Eve said she’ll run scans for him and Elsword.” Blade said, “Lu and Ciel might be further from them, but they’ll be on the lookout as well.”

“If this fight is too much for you, then allow me to take on the Queen.” Dominator grinned, “You can deal with the fox.”

Blade twitched at the transparent excuse. Using Esencia as an excuse to avoid fighting Apsara… No tact whatsoever, the older man covered his eyes with his Nasod hand. Although with the scientist’s extensive knowledge of Nasods, a fight against Esencia would reel positive results. They would be evenly matched because of Dominator’s drones and Nasods.

“I oppose,” Richter raised his hand.

“You haven’t even listened to my perfect plan yet!” Dominator jabbed a finger at the blue-haired man, “Is it your life objective to disagree with every statement I make?”

A faint line curled at the corner of Richter’s lips, subtle but distinctive for the otherwise stoic priest.

Dominator groaned, “Can’t even complete a sentence without Mr. Holy-Art-Thou over here to rain on my parade!”

“Have you finally caught up on modern language, Mr. Ancient?” Richter taunted the man in white.

“Do I need to separate you two?” Anemos walked between the two men and turned to Dominator. “You can fight Eve, but don’t forget why we’re here.”

Whether it was the strange gleam in Anemos eyes - usually reserved when the El Search Party trailed off-track, or because of the unsettling aura the elf gave off when her patience was wearing thin, she was effective in maintaining peace in their group. She didn’t have the charisma Rune had or the sternness Blade established from years of being in the army, but she always seemed to know the right words. A simple nudge or phrase from her was all it took to get them back on track and focus on their goal.

The scientist froze, blinking upon realization to who he was talking to. Dominator smiled and nodded, but a rare sign of timidness was there, not unlike one of a child caught red-handed with arms deep in the cookie jar. Blade snorted at the mental image and comparison.

Richter’s reaction was more subtle. There was less vanity in his expression, but it was hard to tell with the man who kept his emotions close to his chest.

“If Mr. Ancient fights Ms. Empress, then I’ll take the Demons.” Richter said.

“Are we fighting them individually?” Anemos asked, “We’ll be spreading ourselves too thinly.”

“It will weaken them as well,” Richter disagreed. “They’re strong because they’re together.”

“Wasn’t it the other you who ran off with the brat?” Dominator looked at the swordsman, chuckling to himself. “Almost didn't recognize the other you with all the white hair. It’s a shame we missed an opportunity to analyze a fascinating tool. The power readings Dynamo gave me are nothing like what I’ve seen.”

“We’re not fighting myself,” Blade said with curtness in his tone.

It wasn’t that he feared himself - Blade was past the point of being fearful after the mess they left behind in Elrianode, but it was irking to see a reflection of himself staring back at him. The same angular face painted with a tired expression, aged with years of fighting and traveling.

It was a brief moment, no less than maybe five or six seconds, but Blade’s eyes fell over to the arm. Black as a crow, crimson streaks bled over his alternate’s arm. Gold tips painted over Rage’s claws; spikes ripped out from the shoulder and forearm. The arm looked more demonic than Nasod, pulsating and contrasting rhythmically to its host’s breathes. It was alive .

“I gave our friends information about what to do if they have to face me.” Blade said, “Our goal is to save Elsword, not fight our counterparts to the bone.”

“Then I guess we have no choice but to follow your lead, huh, gramps?” Dominator cocked his head to the side with a sly grin.

Why was everyone insistent on giving him unnecessary nicknames? Each one was as ridiculous as the last, sometimes making no sense at all. Twenty-nine years was hardly old if he was comparing himself to Ultimate and Anemos, although one would think Richter was a century years old from how he talked.

“Do you really think this is our only option?” Anemos asked.

“I don’t know,” Blade admitted. “One of us just attacked them and are making demands they can’t give into. In their eyes, we’re the enemy and I might have to agree with them.”

The elf woman looked at him with sadness.

Blade knew he wasn’t wrong. Like many regretful decisions, there was no pulling back on what already happened. The swordsman wasn’t going to waste his time getting angry over Richter for initiating a fight with themselves. If Seris was still alive and was kidnapped instead of Rune, Blade would have done the same with worse repercussions. Unlike Richter, he wasn’t surrounded by good company when he was at his worse.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I think this fight will end differently than you anticipated.” Anemos giggled, “I’m sure Elsword will let the other Raven know what he thinks about our situation.”

He snorted. Rune was going to talk his kidnappers’ heads off until dawn broke if given the chance, but the imagery was enough to garner a faint smile from Blade.

“Are we leaving?” Richter asked.

“Yes,” he pulled his blade out. “Let’s go.”

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Author Notes: As you may have noticed, it has been a while since I uploaded a new chapter. Without going too much into detail about my life, my schedule has changed and I won't have a lot of time to work on fanfics. In addition, I no longer play Elsword as much because of new interests and due to CP restrictions in the newer dungeons. I will see what I can do to finish this fanfic, but future updates will come slower. Thank you for your patience and for all of your support!

#elsword #eltag #mywriting #my writing #elsword fanfiction #Elboy (Elsword)#Aisha (Elsword)#Rena (Elsword)#Raven (Elsword)#Eve (Elsword)#Chung (Elsword)#Ara (Elsword)#Elesis (Elsword)#Add (Elsword)#Lu (Elsword)#Ciel (Elsword)#Ain (Elsword)#doppelganger

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