The Chronicles of a Scalebound Sage

WM [101] Cut At The Wrist

“We are almost there, I can see the monolith from here.” Ambroz said.

“Okay,” Isin said with an airy breath. “When we get back, remember I have to be the one that talks to Nuriel. While I do go to recruit more people for a second expedition. No chips, they can’t come with us.”

“What are we going to do about the miners, the children, they can’t go on expeditions, are we just going to abandon them?” Adolf asked.

Isin turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the sky bled a sickly crimson, fractured like shattered glass. The land ahead was nothing but jagged rocks and lifeless, cracked ground. The sparse trees that remained were twisted, gnarled things warped remnants of what they once were, twisted by the oppressive forces that had broken this world apart.

It stirred a memory of his childhood, what felt like a lifetime ago. Grass beneath his feet, soft and green. The distant hum of insects, birds chirping in a warm afternoon haze. Tall trees rustling with the whisper of a breeze. It had felt so real. A peaceful, simple world, but it had all been a lie. A carefully controlled vivarium, a cage built by his father for his experiments, for his Slave Race. 

The realization had once filled him with rage. It still did. It was not fair that children were brought into this broken world. Forced into Slavehood by uncaring and cruel Divines. What could he do? He couldn’t kill Nuriel, he wasn’t strong enough to make her bow. All he could do was buy time and save who he could, that was it. 

“You knew coming in that we couldn’t get more than twenty people out.” Isin said as his eyes drifted back to his group. “We will go for as mixed a group as we can, even number of men and women. We take only expedition members.”

Adolf’s hands curled into fists. “But—”

“No buts, Adolf.”

Isin met his eyes, holding them firm. He knew why Adolf wanted more, why he wanted an exception. His little sister was in the mines. She wasn’t an expedition member. If he tried to get her out, Nuriel would notice, and she wasn’t a fool. If she sensed something was wrong, it would all be over before it even began.

He wasn’t heartless though and he knew that they would one day save all of humanity but for this mission it was more important that they made it back safely. Before all of humanity was free Isin knew he was going to have to make decisions he wasn’t going to like. He was going to have to do things that he didn’t want to do. He clenched his fists.

“How are the connection nodes through the storm?” Isin questioned.

Martin was lining up a large machine that was essentially a pneumatic punch machine with a spiked rod. The rods were nodes that would tether back to the Alpha Extraction Site and allow them to follow as long as they had the correct frequency. The rods were thin but each was nearly five feet and several hundred pounds, they had to be to withstand the mana storm.

A deafening crack echoed through the wasteland. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, dust billowing into the air as the machine self-destructed, just as it was designed to. All that remained was the rod, now buried at least twenty feet deep, secure against the shifting terrain.

Martin coughed against the settling dust, waving it away with one hand. “That’s the last one,” he said, voice rough. “No matter what happens, we’ll be able to find our way back.”

“Let’s move then men,” Isin said.

Martin walked up to Isin and stopped him with a hand. “Let’s rest a bit first. Everyone’s nervous but you look… sick, brother.”

“We need to keep moving,” Isin said.

“We all know what is at stake here but we aren’t going to accomplish anything if you die of stress before we even make it to the facility,” Martin said. “Not asking for long but it is an order from your lieutenant otherwise we might have to organize a mutiny.”

 “Fine, we’ll take a breather.” Isin said.

“You heard him set up the table.” Martin patted Isin’s shoulder and pulled him into the group. “Set up the table and get out the cards.”

“I have the drinks,” Ambroz added. “That damn fabrication only lets you take out a little so savor it boys.”

“Wait, we don't have time for this.” Isin protested.

“You already gave the order commander. Sit.” Martin said.

Isin sat at the makeshift table, his shoulders tense as he watched his men eagerly set up the game. The battered metal table had seen better days, dented from rough transport and exposure to the mana storms that tore through the land. They didn’t have much metal at the new facility yet so most of their supplies were mundane steel. Good for transport but didn’t last long in mana storms but no one complained. This was normal for them.

Ambroz placed a small metal flask on the table, popping the lid with a flick of his thumb. The scent of sharp alcohol filled the air, and a few of the men gave exaggerated coughs. The mana in the air had definitely affected the alcohol as it didn’t usually smell that strong.

“Is that even safe to drink?” Isin asked, wrinkling his nose.

“No idea,” Ambroz said cheerfully. “But the fabricator made it, so it won’t kill us… probably.”

“Good enough for me,” Tibor, one of the older men, said as he grabbed the flask. He poured a small amount into a tin cup, passing it around. “We deserve this, don’t we?”

“We deserve a damn feast,” Ludvik, the team’s sharpshooter, muttered. “But I’ll settle for a drink and robbing you bastards blind in cards.”

Isin exhaled through his nose, trying to suppress his frustration. This wasn’t the time for drinking, for gambling, for pretending that what was coming wasn’t real. They were about to march back into Nuriel’s grasp, and all of them knew what awaited them. The situation that they were all about to step into. One wrong move, and she would know everything. She would kill them and leave those in the Alpha Extraction Site to die.

He stood up abruptly ready to yell at them to get serious. Then he noticed as he looked around the table, he saw something else beneath the laughter, beneath the teasing and bravado. The tight grips on their cups, the slight tremors in their fingers, the way their eyes darted toward the monolith on the horizon before quickly looking away. They all looked at him and he felt the weight of their gazes.

They were scared just like him. This wasn’t them being careless. This wasn’t them being reckless. This was how they coped. This was one last moment to breathe before they stepped into the Infernal gates again. He sat back down and grabbed his cup as everyone watched him carefully. Like they were seeing what he was going to do. If he told them to pack up and leave he knew they would. 

Isin sighed and put on a smile. “Fine. One game. One drink.”

The men erupted into cheers, slapping the table and clapping him on the back as the game began. The game was a mess of bad hands, curses, and accusations of cheating. Ludvik was winning, much to everyone’s dismay, and Martin kept laughing too hard to play properly. Isin watched his old friend, for the first time in a while he seemed like his old self. One that wasn’t ravaged by guilt and loss, he just looked like Martin again. 

“I swear on my ancestors, you’re stacking the deck,” Tibor accused, red in the face.

Ludvik smirked. “I’m just that good.”

“You’re just that lucky,” Ambroz countered.

“No luck, I skill, I skill,” Ludvik said.

Adolf leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He turned to Isin, swishing the last of the alcohol in his cup.

“So, Isin…” he started. “Have you thought about names yet?”

The table fell silent at the question. Isin’s mind blanked completely thrown off.

“W-what?” Isin stammered.

“For the baby,” Adolf said, grinning now. “Have you and Eliska picked any names?”

Isin’s heart lurched. He stared at them, feeling suddenly off-balance. How did they know? He hadn’t told anyone yet. His eyes flickered to Martin, who raised his hands in surrender.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t say a word.” Martin said.

“I accidentally overheard,” Adolf said after a moment. “She wasn’t exactly quiet when she’s scolding you, and, well… it's pretty obvious.”

The men laughed, and Isin sighed, rubbing his temple. 

“I swear, you people are worse than spies.” Isin said.

“So?” Ambroz pushed. “Names?”

Isin hesitated, but as he looked at their eager faces, he felt his resistance melt. They weren’t doing this to tease him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of names either. He wanted to be there for Eliska when his child was born. He had already told himself that he would be there no matter what. He took a breath and leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly.

“If it’s a boy, I was thinking… Milos or Ales.”

“Strong names,” Tibor said.

“And if it’s a girl?” Martin asked.

“Mara or Alica,” Isin answered.

“Good choices,” Ludvik said with a grin. “But you realize, now that you’ve told us, we’re going to make bets on what it’ll be.”

“Keep it quiet,” Isin warned, “I haven’t even told Eliska yet. I wanted to wait until things were settled,” Isin admitted.

Martin raised his cup. “Then let’s drink to the future. To a world where we don’t have to hide names. A world where we don’t have to run.”

The others raised their cups in agreement, the firelight flickering against their faces and for the first time that night, Isin didn’t feel quite so alone.

***

The group pressed on, moving with the sluggish weight of exhaustion. After a day and a half, they were finally close enough for the site to detect them. It didn’t take long after that before the air boiled. Aether churned like a living thing and it coiled around them like viper. A familiar, suffocating pressure gripped their bodies, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. It wasn’t by the facility’s automated systems, but by something far worse. 

Divine Sight, Nuriel was watching and she was not pleased. The weight of her gaze drove them to their knees as if their bodies no longer belonged to them. They kowtowed with foreheads pressed to the dirt, muscles locked in rigid fear. The scrutiny of a Divine burrowed into their very bones, as though peeling away their layers, dissecting their souls for judgment.

In an instant the feeling was gone but the danger was not over either. The aether detonated around them like a thunderclap, the sheer force nearly splitting their skulls open. A portal ripped into existence as if someone had just grabbed reality and pulled it apart at the seams. The air turned razor-sharp with power, the pressure making blood leak from their eyes, noses, and mouths. It was as if their very spirits were being burned.

Isin remained untouched. The energy passed through and around him, as if recognizing something in him, something familiar.The others struggled in strangled gasps as the pain was unyielding. None of them dared to look up.

The portal snapped shut. A silence stretched across the wasteland, heavy and endless. Seconds passed like hours. Then a flash of searing heat. Only for an instant. Isin risked a glance and his breath caught.

Ambroz was dead. His head was gone leaving only a stump of charred, blackened flesh remained where his neck had been. His body slumped forward, lifeless. Before Isin could react there was another flash. Another team member reduced to a smoldering corpse.

A third, He didn’t even know who it was that time. They were just dead. Without warning, without reason. His breath hitched. Why? Why was Nuriel killing them before they could even speak? Before he could explain themselves? The heat burned again and singed the air inches from his head. The ground beside him bubbled with heat as stone was reduced to vapor.

Isin slammed his forehead into the dirt, his heart hammering. “Divine Nuriel, I beseech you—please, spare us your wrath. Please, show us mercy.”

A soft, amused chuckle was what he heard in response. “Ah, so you can speak, love.”

Her voice was gentle, almost sweet. Like a mother cooing to a child. As if she hadn’t just slaughtered three people. As if their lives were nothing more than an afterthought. The air was thick with the smell of burnt flesh and hair. It clung to Isin acrid and sickening.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to take at least one more. I sent you to the Alpha Extraction Site,” Nuriel continued, “and you have returned with nothing. So tell me, love, why shouldn’t I just kill you all? Defective slaves should be recycled.”

Isin's body trembled with rage, but he forced his voice to remain steady. “We were attacked by a Category One Creation Beast. The team was wiped out, but we continued the mission.”

“Speak faster, love.”

“If I may, my Divine?” Isin motioned toward the body to his right.

“Quickly.”

Moving with careful precision, Isin rose to his feet, keeping his eyes downcast. He refused to look at her, not out of respect, but out of necessity. If he saw her face, if he saw that smile again, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from doing something reckless. He couldn’t afford to play into her game, there was too much on the line. Too much they had already lost.

He glanced at the carnage instead. Ambroz, Tibor and Ludvik were all dead in an instant. Gone before they had the chance to see their families again. Tibor had been so sure his brother would come along this time. Ludvik had promised to bring his sisters. Now all Isin could do was carry their stories.

He forced himself to move, kneeling beside Tibor’s corpse. His fingers worked quickly, unlatching the straps on his travel bag. He reached inside and pulled out a single metal canister, its surface humming with an unknown energy. This was their plan to get in, it was the thing that all the angels wanted, more than anything else. The reason for the mines for the Slave Race. 

Isin knew long ago that a shipment from the Alpha Extraction Site went missing before the facility went dark. The facility was still making these Creation canisters. All they needed to do was show it to Nuriel and lie about finding it before needing to turn back. They didn’t expect she would attack first.

Nuriel saw in and in an instant there was a green flash. Agony. Isin’s scream tore through the still air as both of his hands were severed clean at the wrist. Blood gushed from the stumps, hot and wet. He collapsed forward, his body wracked with pain, his severed hands landing limply on Tibor’s body before rolling onto the dirt.

The canister didn’t fall. It hovered, suspended in the air by the touch of an Angel Core. Shuddering, Isin forced himself to look up. Nuriel hovered over him with a wide toothy grin across her face. Her beauty was sickening, a perfection sculpted from something not mortal. Her halo burned bright behind her head, casting an ethereal glow over her sharp, elegant features. Her wings stretched wide, glimmering with divine radiance.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t looking at any of them. She didn’t care. The Angel Core gently placed the canister in her waiting hands, and she cradled it with the delicate touch of a mother holding a newborn. There were no further words, just a crackle of aether and portal reappeared behind her. The sheer force of it made Isin’s vision blur, his body seizing with vertigo. His team members convulsed, spitting up blood, their bodies barely able to withstand the Divine’s presence. It was just like that she vanished. The portal snapped shut, and silence returned. 

Isin collapsed onto his back, his breath ragged, his vision swimming. The pain was unbearable, his body shaking from shock and blood loss. It was there beneath the agony, beneath the horror there was only rage. It festered, boiling just beneath his skin, deeper than anything he had ever known.

His lips curled into a snarl, his chest heaving. He was going to kill them. Every single one of those damned things. Fuck the Divine. Fuck every single one of them.

“You're okay! You're okay! Fuck, we have to stop the bleeding!” Martin’s voice was frantic as he dropped to his knees beside Isin, already fumbling for anything to staunch the flow of blood.

Adolf stood frozen, eyes locked on the charred remains of their fallen comrades. “She just—just killed them. Just like that. She didn’t even give them a chance.”

“Adolf, Isin is bleeding out—we need to move!” Martin snapped.

“She did it on purpose,” Isin growled through gritted teeth, his breathing shallow but filled with venom. “She’s still playing her fucking games. Ambroz was our medic. Tibor had training. She knew that. She wants me crawling back to her. She wants me to beg. We have to move. Now! We burn the bodies fast, or something will smell them and come looking.”

“Isin, you’re barely holding on. We need to do something about your wounds—”

“Adolf, grab the tags and burn them,” Isin ordered, his voice sharp. “Martin, help me up. We're leaving.”