Dust, smoke and ashes are the aftermath left behind by N’Ïrk’s Bradderock. The explosion has dispersed the mist that was in the area with relative efficiency.
But is a temporary asure, the fog is quick in coming back, along the sporadic shots of carbines that continue to echo across the forest, a cruel reminder that they are under attack.
"Clear the path as you wished Å’Vría!".
Nieksi command is not questioned, the red skinned damsel obeys, glowing with golden light and emitting a powerful pulse of Empiric Energy, the ethereal translucent glow crashes down and lifts the ground in a wave tha gets taller and stronger the more distance it cross, like a tsunami, just one woman made and built out of mud instead of salt water.
Cables and mines are swayed away, causing more explosions to occur, splattering muck with no particular direction or focus, but simultaneously, a decent, and arguably, safe road is made for the students.
"Hubby. I’ll go and take care of our classmate’s legs".
"No Wifey". N’Ïrk stops Niveilia. "Let his teammate stop the bleeding however she can".
"But...".
"No «Buts». We’re in combat Wifey. You can’t waste Ens in liabilities until the threat has been exterminated. And healers are always targeted first, even above the Leaders, because a good chain of command cannot be easily destroyed. But if the troops see the healer dead, the morale collapse faster than a single snap. If you want to help him. Fight back. Erect Barriers. And don’t get injured. Understood?".
"Yes Hubby".
"Good. Because we are going into the tunnels. They may have more traps, but we can outlast the Rättens in close spaces".
The Trinities are reluctant, but because they are scared and disoriented, the students cling to the only thing that gives them a semblance of stability.
This feeling cos from two people, N’Ïrk and Ryavd’Yian Lujucssö.
The young lady has short litmus celest blue hair, dark peach skin covers her feminine sculpted silhouette, literally carved for battle, maximizing explosive speed, stamina and extre flexibility, dodging bullets with relative ease.
Yet. She has a natural cynical gaze with her black sclera eyeballs, and red glowing irises around her slit pupils.
"You do the honors?". Questions Ryavd’Yian, her madness just as high as her heart rate and libido.
"No, lets block the side entrances and go for the large in the middle".
"Bold and crazy. I like the idea. Let’s do it with fire. Rättens bloat and explode!".
"Indeed!".
""«Infarae BMournce»"".
Both youngsters cast at unison the sa ammunition with an additional function, creating in their palms silverish orange spheres, throwing them like hand grandes into four of the five hollowed trunks.
The spheres bounce and explode, igniting a blazing silver fire that tries to consu the wet wood, and manages to do so.
"Co down after !". Informs N’Ïrk, sprinting to the trunk and jumping into the hole, ignoring the stairs and falling with the barriers and blades that The Tyrant’s Grasp has.
Bullets are useless against him, the physical objects are stopped with his powerful Eneld, especially as he has augnted the Nullification thanks to his Wildcard attributes.
Landing at the base of the tunnel. The Rättens have no chance to fight back. The Carabines are not Rifles, but both weapons are not ant to be used in enclosed areas, hindering the maneuverability and overall mobility of the Marksn.
With a single spiral motion, the ethereal blades cut into pieces the scrawny Rättens.
Still, N’Ïrk is careful, ensuring he doesn’t endangers the equipnt, picking up a Carabine, and shooting down with it every Rätten he sees in the tunnel.
Ryavd’Yian has a similar ntality to N’Ïrk, grabbing a Carabine and fighting with old fashioned bullets to save up Ens.
By the ti the students go down using the stairs, the two youngsters had already eliminated the Rättens in the area.
Securing the underground facilities, a fort large enough for one hundred and fifty residents.
However, the safety is not granted. Further down, there is a large subterranean street that almost resemble a section of a highway.
Rudintary vehicles are parked there, and even well kept rails to allow the transit of trains.
Strangely, the tracks are incomplete, both ends stopping right before they reach smooth walls.
The discovery leaves N’Ïrk with a weird puzzlent that he can’t take out of his mind.
{The Rättens are not intelligent enough to pull off such complex and advanced headquarters. Nor they are this well nourished. One ter and a half of height is unheard of. And is not sothing unique or special of a single individual, if not a new standard, as all this Rättens are... , Better than average peers}
Fortunately for the students, the following hours are peaceful. Settling in the area that wasn’t the main scenario of the bloodshed, using the resources available within the Rätten’s warehouse, infirmary and kitchen, distributing the duties and responsibilities for the next two (Fake) days.
The discontent and tension of a new attack kept everyone alert, even when no assault occur. Yet, the ti passed, and the students were ready to leave, as soon as the exit vortex appear.
Two days have passed in the student’s minds, while in truth, only twenty hours of real ti they have spent inside of the Fake Zones.
But after seeing the state of the other four Triskelions, the spirit of joy for returning to Dhägna’Hür, is not at it’s peak.
Omitting N’Ïrk’s Triskelion, all the other groups had casualties and severe injuries.
Nevertheless. After learning what was the obstacles the other teams had to deal with, a slight breach was obliviously instigated.
The Triskelions face a few couple of small, ugly quadrupeds that looked like wingless eagles, which were no bigger than a cat, and only spat out so hallucinogenic gas.
This made clear that sothing had gone wrong with the vortex that N’Ïrk and his companions used.
Not to ntion how disgusted the Two Triskelions were. Because they had to endure the Rätten ambush, while the other teams couldn’t fight back a few dumb aningless pests.
Silently enraged. The sa thought growth in the people who accompanied N’Ïrk.
⟨ What a bunch of diocre idiots are the rest of our classmates... ⟩
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