When Mianju got closer, he heard a very peculiar voice, something of a mix of guttural speech of a tengu and krait’s hissing. He could swear he felt tickling at the back of his head at the very moment the sound reached his ears. As if it was familiar…
…but oh so unplaceable. Has he ever heard it before? Even he would remember, wouldn’t he?
With the full-body suit it was hard to tell who was behind the mask. Or perhaps the mask itself was responsible for the unique tone? Surely someone like that would imprint themselves on his brain, but he just couldn’t see anything in that tiny memory shard he was rotating in his brain.
He stopped barely a meter away from the stranger, quiet when he should speak up, his thoughts scattered. And he stared, trying to piece his broken mind to find the source of this familiar impression. To no avail. It was just beyond his desperate grasp.
And so the stranger spoke up first.
“Did you come to help too?”
It felt, for a moment, like his arrival was expected. Like he was waited for. Like he was special.
But why on Tyria would someone do that? No one ever did. No one ever would.
His own thoughts shut down the spark of hope in seconds. Sudden heaviness brought him back to reality for a moment, to realize that he perhaps should answer.
“I am a regular to…”, he started but stopped. Why would anyone want to listen to whatever he was up to? He was asked a question, wasn’t he?
“No. But I will. I am going. In. With them”, Mianju attempted again, in broken sentences, too focused on the thoughts running through his head, and glanced back towards his temporary team. Outside the reach of his voice, for the better.
The stranger tilted his head slightly, perhaps to look where the sylvari was looking.
“Curious. I did not take you for a team player. But if you wish to go with them, I will not stop you.”
Mesmer blinked, confused. The stranger spoke almost as if he knew him. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong about…?
“I will, however, try to lend a hand, when you find yourself in need of one. You and your team - enter here. Good luck. And see you in there.”
Since the very moment they entered this usually pretty simple fractal shard, it just kept going downhill like an avalanche. Not because their main objective was down below in the middle of a lava-filled cavern. And also not because there was a set of huge boulders chasing them down the corridor at one point.
No.
It was purely the lack of competence of his temporary team that was giving Mianju a headache.
…or perhaps it was sleep deprivation and that the hangover from last night was only catching up to him? He wasn’t so sure anymore. It didn't matter anyway. Even if the pain from his “companions” wasn't literal, it just might have been, such was how every second spent with them felt.
The first chamber already proved a challenge for the newbies and it only consisted of slaying some grawls, as their main target escaped to lower levels. He could accept a couple of missed swings and shots, sure, but then he felt a hot breeze from a fire bolt which flew a couple of centimeters from his face. Seeing as the other human of his party was the one to cast the spell, he gave him an uncomfortably long and empty stare in response. Perhaps it should’ve been filled with disappointment, but none could really read these two black voids he had for eyes anyway.
Didn’t the girl say that fighting was the one thing they were decent at? How annoying.
With the Mianju’s lead they managed to secure their way down the flaming boulders-infested corridor - though “secure” was definitely too big of a word with the asura burning his feet and the charr almost getting her tail crushed in the process. Later on the sylvari regretted that it didn't actually happen. It would’ve been simpler, quicker, since they had nothing of interest to him anyway. Not even an interesting trinket to claim after they go cold. Perhaps he would make it work without a soul shard too. What a waste.
Before the first strike at the grawl shaman Mianju stopped and actually assigned some roles to his team. Something he would never normally do. He would neither lead nor really care, the usuals would know this stuff. He was not in the mood for doing all the work. It was itching him to spill the blood but as of now, it would be one of the newbies rather than the target’s.
It went okay at best. If not for the weird slight magical push he felt from time to time, he would have tired himself more, having to deal with protecting the sacrifices and breaking the magma shield on their target. It's almost as if others did nothing, it pissed him off so bad.
Yet… Mianju said nothing, as usual. Except for short instructions on how to proceed further.
He was tempted to push the asura off the ledge right into the lava pit below as they ventured towards the last chamber. His squeaky voice was adding to his migraine. Despite that, along the way he explained what was waiting for them at the end, in case the party accidentally did something useful this time around.
Oh, how mistaken he was.
Seconds after he dropped from the shaky rail-bridge onto the hot rocky platform below, a loud crack sounded behind him. One of the bridge’s supports broke suddenly and the whole thing collapsed.
That was not the usual.
He immediately shot a glance at the quickly backing off team. They were cut off. He was cut off?
Mianju turned his gaze back towards the middle, where the shaman already took on the form of a fire elemental. And noticed his intrusion. Fucking hell.
It was obvious he couldn’t count on them, getting to him and helping out, based on what he saw. But he could kill it alone. He did it before. He just needed to focus. To focus when his mind was occupied with taming anger.
There was no time to think anyway, as the first barrage of fiery bolts flew towards him. He dodged. He dodged, and juked, and ran, keeping on the move at all times. The boss was easily tricked by mirrors and illusions - of Mianju, of human sacrifices, of lack of the latter. That gave him some windows to strike, but alone it was tiring, having such a close-range weapon as an axe. Maybe the migraine was getting the better of him. Every phase-in from the shattered mirror was like a fist to the face, after a sudden relief of temporal incorporeality. He could really use a competent hand right now…
Moments later his grip on the axe’s handle loosened a bit during a swing and it flew in a spiraling arc towards the edge of the platform, just to slide into the bubbling lava. Well, fuck. There went his only weapon. His means of ending this battle rather quickly. He dashed backwards, scrambling to form a plan. A cohesive thought, even. He instinctively reached into the bag, where his fingers wrapped around a familiar rough crystal, cold despite the overwhelming heat. Underworldly cold. It gave in easily as he crushed it in his palm and started siphoning the power of the trapped soul. Turned into a mere magical battery, lost forever, what a fate. Not that Mianju cared much.
An invigorating wave rushed through his sap-filled veins, like a flood barely contained in a river canal, threatening to burst out and devastate everything around. He loved it, the pain of feeling more alive than ever. Runes carved into his arm glowed up, a pink blazing symbol appeared on his forehead. And it all turned into a blur moments later, as the shards from shattered illusions flew about, illuminating the cavern in an array of colors. It was hard to tell which amongst the many phantasmal copies of the sylvari was the real mesmer and what was even going on. Could Mianju himself tell? For him his thoughts were close to being as blurry as the visuals for others.
Others. Mesmer glanced quickly towards his companions, still standing up there in the pathway, all useless. They were talking, watching. Smiling? He could have sworn that he saw a flash of the rouge’s white teeth. Was it really so entertaining, watching him fight for his life here, from safety?
The bridge. Perhaps it was her doing, their doing, that it broke, leaving him here, stranded, alone, facing this…
The flame on his forehead burst brighter, as if in response to the rising anger and sorrow. It was taking ages. He wanted to be done with this, to let out his rage on these deserving it…
His hand grasped the hot air, the lack of his tool of trade was slowing him down. If only… Mianju, drowning in his own head, realized with a delay that his fingers actually had wrapped around something tangible. Something else came into play and he didn’t notice it. It carried a feeling similar to the previous slight magical pushes he experienced since they stepped into this fractal shard, but this time it was stronger, more present. His surprised gaze landed on a dark purple spear. A set of intricate patterns on its shaft lit up with a pink glow, as if it attuned itself to the mesmer’s magic in an instant. He never wielded a spear before, yet it felt like an extension of his arm. It was light, long and deadly. Exactly what he needed to reach the annoying elemental. Wherever it came from, he was in no place to complain. After that, the fight lasted only a bit over a dozen seconds more. The transformed shaman fell to the ground, accompanied by an agonizing screech.
It was over. The mesmer stared at the corpse in front of him, breathing heavily after a long evasive dance he had to perform earlier. The crisis was averted, he managed-...
Behind him echoed a series of loud thuds and grinding sounds. Mianju turned and his sight landed on the party of newbies. An improvised rocky staircase led from the previously cut off pathway to the platform.
Right. The elementalist. The one that almost hit him with a ball of fire before. He could wield magic in a useful way, it seemed.
Useful for whom?
The battle was already over. He did it all by himself, while them, clearly capable of getting here earlier… And the smile he saw before. He turned his gaze at the rogue. The woman was talking, her lips were moving as she was approaching. He heard her, but it was as if the words were flying right past him. As if he didn’t understand them.
They didn’t matter anyway. Because they have abandoned him. Why would anything coming out from the mouth of a traitor matter? He felt the rage overwhelming him again, breaking the temporary dam formed by the shaman’s death.
The next thing he knew the tip of his spear was buried deep in the rogue's throat. The woman reached to her neck, eyes wide in shock. With a gurgling sound, she coughed a bunch of blood. It took her companions a couple more seconds to comprehend what had just happened.
Shouts and screams of terror rang in the sylvari’s ears. The squeaky asura was next. Before he even managed to react, a brightly colored phantom appeared in front of him and pierced his little body between collarbones, shutting off the air flow. The most annoying squeal turned into choking. Sweet release for the Mesmer’s hurting ears.
The other two attempted defense, denying themselves clean and easy death. Because death itself was inevitable, having been targeted by enraged Mianju. Someone's death, be it the target’s or the mesmer's. But these two didn't stand a chance. There sure were a lot of pleading, a lot of “why”s. But he didn’t answer. They tried to use him. They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve him. Nothing mattered but the blood to spill.
As he stood over the dead bodies, the rage subsided slowly. The overwhelming flow of the magic released from the shard was dying down too, slowly, but quicker than usual. It swirled around the spear as Mianju was leaning on it, resting, not thinking about extraction yet. Instead he reached for an empty soul shard into his bag, but a hissing voice coming from behind stopped him in his tracks.
"I see you've regained some clarity. Perhaps thanks to the spear. Good. I still need you."
The sylvari turned his head around to gaze towards the familiar stranger who appeared without a sound. A familiar scent of magic was emanating from him, like what he felt before during the fractal. Like what he felt from the spear.
The spear. Was it the reason why the enhancer wore off quicker than usual? Was it siphoning his own magic?
"Was it you? Did you summon it?"
The stranger nodded slowly. Someone more competent than his team has been watching, as promised, and lent a hand when it was needed.
"I did. Glad to be of help. Keep it and meet me at the Lion's Arch. I will be awaiting your arrival."
They turned his head slightly, as if looking around.
“Best not mention this. I won’t”, the stranger added. They bowed slightly and dissolved into a mist, vanishing as if a gentle breeze carried them away. Mianju stared at the spot for a couple more seconds, before he turned back around. He gazed at the spirit-capturing crystal in his hand and then at the lifeless body of the rogue in front of him. A weak soul not even worth wasting the stone on. What a mess. He sighed and stowed it, getting to gathering what resources he could, preparing for extraction before the heat gets too overbearing.
Mianju didn't expect the crowd gathered at the Mists portals. What was the reason for it? He thought himself hallucinating at first, but the chatter in his ears proved him otherwise. He must've missed something, worthless that he was. Amongst the plenty of strangers he spotted a couple of familiar faces. No one he would bother talking to. Nobody that would bother talking to him.
It didn't matter. He didn't need them. They were worth nothing to him. He was worth nothing...
"Hey, wanna team up?"
A human woman approached him. She looked young, adolescent almost. Donning leather armor, she carried two daggers at her hips. A rouge, he assumed. Never seen her before. Probably.
“Do we know each other?”
“Well, not really, but you look like an experienced guy and we could use someone who was in there before, you know?”, she gestured with her head towards a small group behind her. Another human, an asura and a charr. All of them emanated an aura of inexperience, despite the weapons they carried. He looked back at her, though she probably couldn’t tell, his irises barely visible in daylight.
“Why are you here?”
“Same as everyone else. I guess you haven’t heard about it yet. Parts of the Mists are spilling out there, so they need more folk to help clean it up. Close things or something. Not exactly sure, so we wouldn’t mind someone who knows how these things work. But we can fight!”, she patted one of the daggers. “Just need someone to point us in the right direction.”
Mianju stared at her, quiet. They were of no interest to him. But he was of interest to them. He was needed. If all fails, he was capable of getting through it by himself.
“Alright.”
The woman perked up at the positive response.
“Oh, great! Amazing!”, she clasped her hands, smiling. “Let me introduce you to everyone…”
She led him to her group and pointed at each of them and gave him their names. He forgot them five seconds later.
“So now all that’s left is to register ourselves at that guy and get sent out”, she pointed towards a figure in a full-body brownish armor, busy talking to some people. The moment Mianju turned his gaze at them, they turned their head towards him, as if they felt his stare. There was quite a distance between them and their face was masked, but he practically felt this gaze. It pulled him in, as if the Mists themselves grabbed him by his hand and nudged to approach.
“Wanna do that? Since you’re kind of our leader now”, the female rogue asked. There was a note of urgency in her tone. Or perhaps fear. As if she didn’t want to speak to them herself. He barely heard her. He meant to approach them anyway. He only gave her a slight nod and moved towards the mysterious person. Towards the pull.
