A brisk walk brought the scumbags to the beach.
It was civil twilight in Baldia, and since the duo had sold all of their real estate besides their apartment, they couldn't think of a better place to test their abilities away from public eyes.
Clank!
"Haha, nailed it," Luka exclaimed after the rock he'd thrown split a metal sign with a three-headed monster and red lettering that read:
Danger! No Swimming!
Then he gestured across the calm sea. "I bet I can toss one closer to that Island."
The Island was situated about two kilometers from the shoreline and had sprouted from the ocean depths about a month ago. Damien was pretty sure that's where Darrel had gone to collect the rock that had transformed them into Raiders, because the Raider corps hadn't declared it a threat yet or captured it.
Though only captured Islands, having been cleared of monsters completely, had the distinction of being called safe and habitable for the settler movement, which was set to begin within the next year.
It was obvious to Damien why the settler movement hadn't taken place yet. There simply weren't enough Raiders to defend the captured Islands. But another reason was becoming clearer by the second.
What is this I'm seeing? No — feeling?
The moment his feet had touched the sand, something had felt off, like the ground itself was pacing.
No, not just the sand. The water brushing over his feet. The soil. The trees… the Island itself.
All of it was composed of Particles. Alive and moving. Raging. The Particles were angry, grinding against the chains that held them in check, mourning the loss of something. He could hear its wails.
If the Island's alive, fighting, and winning, how much longer until Baldia becomes uninhabitable?
"Do you not feel that?" Damien turned to Luka.
The blonde idiot just skipped his rock a couple of hundred meters across the sea, and Damien watched the splash with a faint unease he couldn't name.
Then Luka shrugged. "My amazingness? I do."
Damien rolled his eyes. Why can't he feel the Particles but I can? Does it have to do with our Particle counts? He shook his head and picked up a good skipping rock.
I can figure it out later. But the wailing didn't stop. It sat at the back of his skull like a splinter he couldn't reach, quiet enough to ignore, insistent enough that he couldn't quite forget it.
Still, he tried.
I need to prioritize my magical affinity so I can turn myself over to the Raider Corps tomorrow. I'm sure they'll have answers.
He threw his rock… and smiled as it landed well past where Luka's had sunk.
Then he clapped his hands.
"Alright… so how do we figure out our magical affinity?"
***
Crack!
Pop!
A long while later, the sun had set over Baldia, but the sky was still bright as fireworks exploded over the nation like stars. Loud music and laughter drifted in from the city on the other side of the beach.
"Can all of those drunk assholes stop shouting? I mean, seriously, why can't we get this!" Luka turned to Damien, who wore an annoyed expression.
But Luka was every bit as frustrated as both of them had made no progress in figuring out their magical affinities. They had assumed it would come naturally, like breathing. They couldn't have been more wrong.
The wailing didn't care that Damien was busy; it scraped at the edge of his concentration. Every time he reached inward for the Particles in his chest, the ones beneath his feet answered instead, restless and grieving, and he lost the thread.
Though that wasn't why he was biting his cheek until he drew blood.
The High God festival? He clenched his fist. What a shame... any Gods who sacrifice the world and let thousands starve aren't worth my worship.
Festivals were a luxury even in the capital of Baldia, and Damien had enjoyed every bit of them up until yesterday. He used to be a rich man. And the rich don't care for ants, just as the farmer doesn't care for his cows.
They raise them for slaughter.
Maybe that's why he felt so guilty and ashamed, watching from the shoreline as a child ate a slice of cake large enough to feed a family of four.
How many could that feed in the wastelands? He couldn't help but wonder.
Trying to shake his guilt and the deafening wails, he turned toward the far-off Island. Just past it, dark storm clouds made their presence known as thunder ruptured over the sea.
"Let's go," Damien sighed. The last thing he wanted after an emotional beating was to be drenched with rain.
"What? I almost have it figured out… I think we're trying to force it too much. It needs to be natural."
Luka inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
A second later, a yellow light shimmered in his palm, taking the shape of a sword. But before it could take shape completely, the idiot opened his eyes and shouted,
"See!"
It crumbled under his enthusiasm.
"Damn it!"
"We can figure it out tomorrow," Damien said, already halfway across the beach, chewing on another bottle cap he'd brought with him. "Who better to learn from than the Raider—"
The wailing stopped.
The silence where it had been was somehow louder than the noise.
And then suddenly, everything went cold, as if warmth had never existed.
His body screamed at him to do something. To run. But he froze, dripping with sweat.
Particles?
Behind him, he sensed a walking calamity. Dark and terrifying. These Particles were different from the ones burning in his chest and beneath his feet.
They didn't beat with the same rhythm. Didn't hum.
They only screeched with the warning of Death.
He turned slowly.
"Are you okay?" Luka raised an eyebrow.
His friend didn't say a word, eyes wide.
Luka followed his gaze to the storm clouds, which had drifted far closer than a moment ago.
"You really don't like rain, huh…"
Damien yanked Luka's arm and began hauling him across the sand.
"Those aren't storm clouds!"
The dark mass racing toward Baldia's shore was indeed not a storm cloud, but hundreds of flying beasts… and the thunder their battle cries.
"It's an Island break!"