53 - Dead Night Tigers [Cherno]

“Washed-up former legend that runs a pawnshop and metes out aid to the new generation…” she uttered as they walked, summoning a fresh cigarette and lighting it, taking a drag. With a long sigh on the exhalation, she turned her eyes skyward. “Talk about cliché. Just need some rain and a gang war a couple streets away and I’ll feel at home.”

“You keep smoking, but Arrha is not addictive, and you should be perfectly rested at the moment. Why, then?”

“Neither is coffee; not really, anyway. You can still form a habit, it’s the ritual of it. The taste, the mild upsurge of energy, far as I’m concerned this is just coffee I can smoke… And it’s useful as a Thaumaturgy catalyst besides.”

“Huh? The smoke?”

“Yeah, I just draw in the smoke, dump Thauma into it in my lungs, and exhale the spell. Makes it around one-fifth more efficient. So far I’ve got a smoke screen and a sort of spray of volcanic glass; a lacerative burst beam. That second one feels like gargling sand, though.”

“Using external elemental matter to catalyze Thaumaturgies is a technique endemic to natives of the Wandering Islands. I think only the Dead Night Tiger Agency uses it in this city. They’re reputable if somewhat grim in the business they conduct; mostly assassinations. You may be able to join them.”

“Eh, I’ll consider it. Do they have an exclusivity clause like the Silversword chucklefucks?”

“I’ve no clue. Few people know how the Dead Night Tigers operate internally. They seem to run on some sort of honor system, resolving disputes between members via combat; that small part is known due to how destructive these duels are. Hard not to notice…”

Suddenly, the ground shook. Not a tremor, but something like a distant explosion. A split-second later, two figures darted across the rooftops far down the street, hundreds of purplish missiles darting to-and-fro as one spat them out and the other dodged as if they weren’t even there. Those which struck each did so with force comparable to one of Shiva’s yellow tendrils, smashing stone and kicking up debris.

“...That. Exactly that. The one with the purple missiles is Hassan Asadi, the other one’s Arash Noori, both Apostle-ranked contractors - that’s all three degrees of C-rank, their specific ranks aren’t known. Those two have been feuding for weeks, ever since Arash’s sister got killed and Hassan mocked him for mourning, in public no less. The agency must be footing the repair bill if they’re that brazen.”

Within the split-second gaps between barrages of projectiles, the one named Arash retaliated with his own. One crimson missile after the next, just like Shiva’s, but Arash just kept firing. They flew far faster than Shiva’s own, and unlike hers, they weren’t just masses of red; each one had a distinctly elongated shape, and even bent its course to try and hit Hassan, who defended by dodging, shooting down several, blocking others with his barrier, and just eating two or three head-on with his wards. Unlike his missiles, the barrier seemed to be formed from water or some other liquid. Arash bore two weirdly bulbous guns in his hands, and only after twenty of those bloody missiles did he cease his deluge, with Hassan once more becoming the hunter.

“One of Hashem’s people used guns that fired red explosives just like that. What are they called?”

“Those? Those are Bloody Reapers. What you saw were most likely Red Reapers, the lesser, much more common variant; Reds are the third most common type of Thaumshot, but not many people can boast of even owning a Bloody Reaper, let alone using dozens of them for a personal feud. Every single one takes thousands of DDs in materials to produce, and needs to be empowered by a Lesser Eidolon Vault. They say Arash has a whole harem of women who possess Eidolon Vaults to empower his ammo for him.”

“Eats up? As in the “vault” is spent?”

“Not… Really. How to explain… You sort of pluck a spirit from Kenoma, and it occupies the vault feeding off the passive emissions of your soul. When you need it, you can make the spirit possess the bullet, or any other fitting “Vessel”, and the spirit follows the instructions embedded in the vessel. Once the bullet is fired or the talisman is used or what have you, the spirit returns to its vault. Lesser, Greater, and Major Eidolon Vaults all work as means to contain non-sentient spirits which empower artifacts such as Thaumshot bullets. Then you have True Eidolon Vaults, which can contain truly autonomous spirits that can be given independent form and act out your will. They call them Familiars in some places, Summons in others, Demons, one country calls them Spirit Pets, you get it. Once an Eidolon is exhausted, it takes a while to recover before you can use it again.”

“Here I was thinking that the fact that Thaumaturgy comes instinctively to me would make things easy,” Krahe remarked half-seriously, still watching the spectacle.

“Naturally how?”

“It took me a couple hours to figure out how to form a smoke grenade.”

“That is… Not normal. But then, abnormal abilities are, themselves, normal. You will not make it far if you don’t stand out somehow. I myself possess abnormal resistance to anathema, even for a Banisher, which is why I am able to use the Silberblut Coupler to begin with… And why I was not alarmed by your arm.”

The two feuding contractors went out of sight before long, though the evidence of their ongoing battle still carried on the wind. Amidst the ruckus, Krahe also made out a nearby unarmed scuffle between a small group of people, drunks by the sound of it.

Continuing on with Casus’ guidance, they made their way through the city to another safe zone, this time a small Zaveshian shrine. The front end resembled a far smaller version of the great temple in the main square, but after a brief exchange with the janitor, they were led into the back. He was an evoy, as Krahe noticed by peering beneath the hood of the heavy robe that shrouded his body.

“May Zavesh guide you to perfection of self, sister,” he said to Krahe as she passed in Casus’ wake.