Makun’s eyes darted between them. His breathing steadied slightly, though his heart still hamred in his chest.
Who the hell are these people?
We finally et? Like hell I wanted to et you.
These people ca out of nowhere speaking about "we finally et." Makun was angry. He was being tracked by people he had no idea about.
The chains, he thought. Are they related to that?
"Who are you guys?"
He asked only to be ignored by Bol and Cheryl who were busy analyzing him.
"First grade Apprentice. What is happening?" Bol assessed.
Why was he already a first grade Apprentice? Did they get the wrong guy?
That was impossible. Mark had said he was Makun. So was the information they received false? Was he already a practitioner?
That could not be the case. The higher ups never made mistakes.
"Suppress him," Bol said, and sprang forward.
WHOOSH!
He shot across the parking lot, dagger in hand, his speed blinding. The faster they did this, the less risk they ran.
If the VEB noticed anything wrong with Mark, they were going to act, and that was troubleso. They were not ant to attract attention from the Suppression Bureau.
SLASH!
Bol’s dagger carved a line through the air, aiming for Makun’s shoulder. Makun twisted his shoulder, the blade missing by inches.
Bol pivoted, his footwork clean and precise, dagger sweeping low toward Makun’s ribs. Makun jumped back, his feet skidding across the pavent.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
The attacks ca in rapid succession. Horizontal slash. Vertical cut. Diagonal thrust. Each strike was surgical, controlled, designed not to kill but to herd. Makun dodged left, then right, then back again. But every ti he moved, Bol was already there, closing angles and cutting off escape routes.
Makun’s breath quickened. This man is not going all out. He’s at the sa level as Zorak.
From the spiritual energy emanating from Bol, Makun knew he could have ended it quickly if he wanted to.
It was as if they did not want to kill him. Instead, Makun realized that every ti he escaped, he was pushed towards Cheryl, who had yet to move.
There’s a trap. He noticed.
Instead of dodging towards her, Makun sprang in the opposite direction.
THWACK!
An elegant back kick connected with his ribs. The force was imnse. Makun’s body lifted off the ground and flew backwards, straight towards Cheryl.
The world spun as Makun struggled to look at her waiting.
SLASH!
Her tiny hand shot out, her fingers extending like claws, as she cut across his neck. Blood sprayed. Makun gasped, choking.
She grabbed him by the collar and lifted him effortlessly into the air.
THUD!
She tossed the porcelain doll aside with her free hand, then reached for his hair with her now-empty hand.
RIP!
She pulled. Hard.
"AAAARGHHHH!" A scream tore from his throat.
His eyes whitened in pain. How could a girl her size be so strong? He felt a massive chunk of his hair tear free, roots and all. Blood beaded on his scalp.
BOOM!
She pushed him. Overwhelming force flowed from her small body. Blood sprayed from Makun’s mouth as he flew backwards towards Bol, tumbling through the air.
As he spun, he saw her.
She caught the porcelain doll mid-fall.
Placed his hair on its surface.
VOOOO!
The doll glowed.
His hair was swallowed.
Cheryl poured her Ashe into the doll as soon as the hair was swallowed by it. With this she was creating a channel with Makun.
A channel where she could impose her will.
As such they were going to take control of Makun and finish their mission.
Bol looked at Cheryl who had started the process of control, and looked at Makun who lay on the floor struggling.
It is finally over! He thought.
The task they received was easy. Observe him if he is disconnected. Capture him if he has awakened. And kill him if he beca a threat.
When Bol had seen Makun was now an Apprentice, he had hesitated on what to do. Should they have killed him? He had advanced too quickly. He could be considered a threat.
But he knew that even though Makun advanced, he was still no match for them. Now they were capturing him and their wishes of helping those kids might finally be given to them.
He looked as the dark energy circled around Makun, slowly taking control of him.
It circled around Makun’s body, from up to down, left to right.
It slowly took over his body as he was struggling, shouting, trembling.
Makun was angry. Why is it that there was soone always trying to control him? Why is it that he never had the opportunity to live calmly?
Different from the other tis, where him being a puppet was taphorical, Makun could feel the weight of being controlled right now.
He was becoming a puppet and he did not like that.
Badump! Badump!
His Route Core pulsed, expelling chaotic Ashe outward.
BOOM! The dark energy that wanted to gain control of him exploded. It had been corrupted by destructive information. And the channel that had been created by Cheryl through the porcelain doll exploded.
Splurt! Cheryl spat a mouthful of blood.
She was facing the worst type of enemy possible.
Makun slowly stood up, his eyes glowing a bright orangish fla. He looked at Cheryl. She had tried controlling him. She had to pay.
He turned to look at Bol. He knew as soon as he moved, this man was going after him. It was a battle against two Adept warriors, one he could not win.
Why not just destroy everything? Makun thought. If I lose, they lose as well.
He charged his Ashe, ready to enact destruction. If he could not beat them, he was going to make it so the Suppression Bureau hunted them.
And for that, he needed a huge discharge of Ashe.
Makun charged even more.
However, when he reached a point where his Ashe almost reached its limit, he heard it.
A clap?
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
"What do we have here?"
He turned to look at Orel, who just arrived, a foldable chair in his hand.
Orel slowly unfolded the chair and quietly sat on it. "Continue," he said.
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