Blood Magus Rising: Incompetence

Seemed somewhere amidst the commotion, Lexus and Hector lost themselves in the immersion of the text, practically blank to anything and everything that played out prior.

The speed at which they recorded the text was impressive even by a masterful reader's standard, having passed through a nigh dozen pages with what little may've occured-- Deep investment went into the read, but alas-- Curiousity of the outside world riveted Lexus' attention from the pages' enscriptions to note Amath still within proximity.

Turned out that the company of Tilandre's princess and the electromancer had excused themselves from the scene--
"Hm? Where'd everybody go?" The girl shook at Hector's shoulder, breaking his sifting gaze from the text, to turn for Amath, blank-faced.

"...Huh? Oh, you're here. Well, uuh.... Hi." He didn't know what more he could place in the intro-- He didn't feel as though he had obligations to lead on to anything else; The text left him enticed to finally achieve his goal, and such conversation seemed to only provide obstruction to such task.
(Hector Veris)

"They all started running off." He shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his hand. A murky black substance slowly absorbed into his skin, the remnants of what he'd cleansed, been able to anyway, before Alina had run off. A strange shock ran through him, and he smiled to himself. Oh, he liked this. Shaking his head, he looked back to Hector and smirked.

"You know, you won't learn anything from a book. Name me any famous mage who got started because he picked up a book. Most I've ever heard of is meditation, reaching your inner spirit and unlocking it. But that takes serenity. I can do it, sometimes, if it's real quiet. I just go out to the shore and sit in the water, and when I wake up, I'm floating. Really relaxing stuff."
(Amath)

Hearing such from Amath was slightly irritating, with the exception of a captured statement; One that was mentioned in the many chapters he managed to read upon placing fingers upon the tome.
"Meditation." He echoed, falling silent to ponder further on the text.
"You know... You're right." He turned for Amath, nodding him off. He stood to his feet, placing the book down upon the table, cover shrouding the pages within once more.

"Lexus, you can read up on the rest if you like." He offered, turning his eyes off for the horizon, westbound. "I'm going to meditate on this." He said with some enthusiasm, having taken the few steps deemed critical to the acclaim his achievement-- It was just beyond his grasp in his perception, he could just feel the giddy sensation of grasping the moment in his very metaphorical palms.

"Feel free to help me out, if you see it needed, Amath." He spoke unto him, heading down the cobblestone road for a place to find solace and tranquility--
"But Hector, what about your--" By time she got that far into her question, he was already passing into an exodus of citizenry, flowing in the opposing direction-- Towards the marketplace with few exceptions.

"....Dad's... tools." she finished, sighing at his sudden departure; She evidently wasn't pleased with his recent obsession with becoming a magi-- Falling short of quality time with his childhood friend.
"Amath, you comin' or what?"
(Hector Veris)

Amath shrugged his shoulders in Hectors direction, smiling that his suggestion went through. Meditation wasn't how he'd discovered his powers, but now he could hone in on them, though it was a difficult task to do. It never garnered any progress in his power, but it was enough for him to simply feel the inner waves of his mana, crashing against his form.

"I could guide you through the steps of entering meditation, but most of it is up to you. Let's go somewhere quiet, you lead the way." He stood up and dusted off the leather armor, also wiping the last of the corrupted gunk away from his hand. That was an... Interesting experience, to say the least. Waiting for Hector to lead, he'd follow behind, smiling.
(Amath)

Hector mised forth efforts to omit what he witnessed upon one's hands-- Forcing the mind to assume it to be the slight of hand, mayhaps even a misconception occurring with the blurring pivot of his head.

With that, he proceeded through the crowds, eyes scanning the horizon for suitable places...
As the duo parted from the exodus, vacant of the presence of any other pestersome interlopers, Hector came across a choice:

He could head left-- Southbound, where he'd come across islands linked via bridges; Perhaps there, he could concentrate on the sound of the flowing sea, crashing waves against a rocky shore, and relax to embrace the circuit that took flow within his physical stature...

Or, he could right-- Northbound, into the ambigious depths of the Trystle caverns. There wasn't any Saffron Avis nearby, or any guards aside from some random sailor-looking personage idling by the towering wall of the Trystle mountain. From where they stood, looked nothing more than a simple plebian in conversation with others, rambling on about politics-- A common subject amongst Tilandrean folk, it seemed.

"Hey, perhaps I can meditate in here!" He suggested, nearing the treacherous maws of the triumphant grotto-- It's gullet as bleak as void itself. The hush of soft breeze seemed to roll into its likes, for an empty realm that knew not of sunlight's touch. The only disturbance one could note was the audable dripping song of earthen fluids raining in a steady succession off the stalactites upon the ceiling.

"I've never seen a cave before..." He admitted, "So I guess it'd kinda be like adventuring too!" He didn't take too much consideration into the risk-- As a socially inept child, having never left too far from home until now? He knew not of danger, nor the adventurous trek he was to undergo, should such provide an unfortunate conclusion.
(Hector Veris)

He followed until they reached the mouth of the cave, poking his head inside. He'd explored in here a little bit, checking it out. The inner caves were safe, until you reached the Saffron outpost. That's where the true Trystle began, and the Yokai began to appear. While he was confident in his ability to deal with a Yokai, Amath had no desire to test it out.

Instead, he simply grinned to Hector. As long as they didn't pass the outpost, they were safe. "Alright, we can go in. It should be quiet enough, Yokai can't get this far in. Only thing we have to worry about are bats, or a wild dog, and I can handle that easily." He grinned to his friend, gesturing with his hand for him to lead the way.
(Amath)

It was relatively 'serene' enough for one to condone to meditative measures. The overall atmosphere humid, thanks to the dripping fluids from above, keeping the earthen ground silky with a thin layer, reflective yet disrupted when observed directly, denying any mirror qualities to display a perfect reflection of those whom gazed down upon it.

A short trek through, eyes scanning over the ceiling, glazing one's gaze over the mesas within the more expansive sections of the cavern-- And, movement from a ledge? He wasn't sure; "Did you see that?" Hector queried, pointing up towards the duo's right, where one could've swore that a silhuoette idle in stature and unnoticiable burst to life, and vanished behind the ledge.

Hector glared at it for some time, mildly spooked, but eventually passing it off as a mere fabrication of one's childish mind. It was a common act, and perhaps a problematic mental block he had yet to overcome when it came to unnerving scenarios and sights.
A twinned series of dripping water and footsteps coincided nigh perfectly, echoing with every impact upon the solid rock they clashed against-- A relationship forged for treachery unto the children; Though, Hector remained oblivious, one with more awareness could come to realization: They were not alone.

"About here, should be fine." Hector proclaimed, halting in the midst of open, dry, flat-rock. It was a shame he did not remain defensive as personages such as Lumina proved to be in past encounters, but he was not a soldier, nor magi as far as he was concerned-- Infact, he had -no- concieveable or suitable skills to be of use to anyone. Thus, it didn't occur to him now, taking a seat upon the rock in the illustrated pretzel stance he glimpsed over earlier.
An uncomfortable transition from standing was rewarded with mild wincing-- And something else, scuffling in the growing distance, further north.

"Are those the bats you were talking about?" He questioned Amath, clueless as to what they were likely to have come across, or victimized -by-.
(Hector Veris)

Amath frowned at the sudden movement, pointed out by a keen eyed Hector, though he didn't know what it meant. Not that Amath knew any better, but it was knowledge he was confident he held superiority in over his friend. Glancing about, the shadows seemed full of moving things now, none of them small enough to be a bat. A frown crossed his lips.

He barely listened when Hector sat down, declaring his intentions along with it, instead focusing on his surroundings. Even Hector had realized something was afoot at this point, something that concerned Amath. Glancing about, he balled his fist up and allowed water to slowly curl around it, taking shape in a condensed form.

"No... Too big to be bats. Not Yokai, Saffron would know about that..." His mind ran through possibilities before settling on one, finally. "I think we're being watched by bandits, Hector."
(Amath)

"Pffft-" Hector burst into laughter, completely shrugging aside the possibility. "Bandits? C'mon, we're not in the Sarab Desert." He assured, "Why would there be bandits all the way out here?" He questioned, with a doubtful smile upon his face-- It broke the concentration he was trying to implement for a while now. He was at-ease here, innocence leaving him without reason to fret--

Perhaps, it was this ignorance to what stalked them that allowed him to manifest a drowsy facade? With it, he slipped into meditation-- To the common person, falling asleep with skillful practice and devotion evident.
Sadly, it was short-lived; The origin of the scampering grew clear, spreading out to form a numerous quantity of silhuoettes.

Few of which encroached, turning out to be, not monsters of the cavernous depths-- But humans adorn in arbitrary segments of metallic garb, expanded amongst the dozens with a various arsenal. Armors and weapons purloined from a number of organizations including: the Saffron Avis, Viridian, and Aegis militaries, compensating missing pieces with lesser Blacksmithery.

Battleaxes, broadswords, scimitars, and curve blades were weilded, all of which pointed to their target-- Threatening to take hostage for their goals in mind.
"Heyo! Boss! It's just a couple of kids." called out amongst the group.
"Wait, I know that twerp!" Hector's eyes popped open, but body remained frozen in shock for his mistake in denying such possibility.
"That's the kid with the necklace from the marketplace!" Declared the familiar voice, prying the Veris' child attention.

Eyes widened, and azure pupils diated, with the reflection of the village bully captured upon the surface of his trembling pupils.
"Remember me? Took a while, but the medics were able to heal me up." The older teen wailed.
"-And when ma' crew here broke me out, I -KNEW- I'd have payback."

Hector rose to his feet, unarmed and backpedalling slowly for Amath, whom he hoped would have a viable plan to get them out of this scenario.
One whom took up count could notice, that even if none of them were magi, they outnumbered them hilariously-- Roughly 17 to 2.
"A- Amath... These guys are tough... And they have weapons." He warned rhetorically, but with worry.

"So, this is how things are goin' t' go." The town bully started, "Drop -all- of your stuff... Crowns, jewelry, even the damn clothes, and you can be on your way. Then, we don't have to force it off of ye', fair enough?" He asked, extremely impatient with any hiatus that may've carried underway, he persisted with raised volume.
"I said... -UNDER-, -STAAND-" He drawled, as though spelling it out to fools whom knew not of common vocabulary.
(Hector Veris)

Amath had sighed at Hectors given non-chalance. He'd grown up in some nobles house, and probably hadn't been outside for more than an hour at a time until he'd reached Tilandre, and only then had he encounterd anything worse than a simple thief once, and that was with guards nearby, allies to aid him. This was something different.

Amath had survived on the streets and alleys for about seven years now, since his mom had died. He'd survived on knowing his surroundings, being savvy in the area, and sticking to himself. It was a lesson Hector'd never learned. His eyes glanced around at the walls as Hector pushed himself into a trance, something that brought Amath to a sigh. He'd keep watch he supposed, becoming a bodyguard for his friend instead of a mentor.

The clacking of armor plates set off Amath first. Like the Saffron Avis on patrol, but they didn't try to sneak about. They would've come brazenly through, shining proudly in their plate. No, this was something else. When his eyes locked upon the approaching figures, he froze. He knew it, he had known it the entire time.

They spoke to the frozen teens, their leader apparently recognizing Hector from before. His lips curled into a snarl, an angry glint in his eyes. They wanted to rob them, strip them naked and send them on their way? "I understand completely clearly." His voice was smooth as a rivers current, betraying the deadly current underneath.

"Stay behind me." The water swirling around his fist suddenly shot out into a beam, blasting into two of the bandits with a concussive force, launching them backwards with a hefty thunk. No moans came from the two forms as he snarled at the bandits. "Want my valuables? Come get them."
(Amath)

The provoked attack was rewarded with merciless force, without intent on granting even the slightest degree of forbearance in their encroach--

The Epoch of everything up to moment and time felt so insignificant when placed in comparison with such a gargantuan threat afoot. He was active, on his feet, conscious-- Yet powerless, weak, defenseless. The only key advantage he'd have for escape would be Amath; Further spectation of his friend, however, withered away at his faith.

They swarmed in, refusing to take risk with an evident magi. Two were taken down, seemingly defeated, which left another 15 in total, 13 of which ganging up on him from all directions, even catching a paralyzed Hector by the face to heave him aside-- Ensuring no means of escape for even a magi with such aquamancing adeptive capability.

Thankfully, they seemed to come to their senses, not slaughtering them with weaponry, but rather wailing on Amath from all directions with crushing fists and kicks upon his physique, and personage. First, a duo of kicks aimed for his backside, aimed to direct him into the trajectory of a right hook, driving with a diagonal fashion to it, in expectation to juggle him over to other awaiting tormentors.

Meanwhile, only two would take their approach for Hector, one of which being the group leader, having a personal vendetta against the boy. The lack of numbers on him, in comparison to Amath was obvious in terms of reasoning-- Hector had yet to prove himself a magus, and now, he was paying for it.

"That girl back in th' maintown, cut my stomach open." The bully grit his teeth, right hand still tightly clutching his own personal dagger, unlike the flashy weaponry his friends and cohorts weilded, "How about I return the favor, an eye for an eye." He went on, closing it with a jab with his dagger, responded to with an evasive hop backwards. It was an intimidation tactic that was soon to carry through.

"Hold him still." He ordered, leaving the sole aid he designated to his side to charge for the apparent non-magus, grasping at his right arm, in an attempt to restrain him from attempting escape. Hector squirmed, jerked, and whined through grit teeth, but not even sweaty wrists could free him from this hold.

Eyes began to water, growing teary at the sight of a dagger played with in his adversary's grasp-- A gritty end, unforeseen and carried into motion due to his sorry luck and decision-making? It made his stomach queasy, hardly capable to shift his attention for his friend-- He was locked in a realm of terror and fear, wanting nothing other than the relinquishing of Amath and himself from such a scenario.

How Amath was doing as of now? Hector knew not... But he himself, was less than par.
(Hector Veris)

Amath was unable to look to those who went after his friend, surrounded by enemies on all sides. It was quite the dangerous situation, as they punched, kicked, and grabbed at him. He managed to avoid most of the blows, all of the ones that came at him initially, returning with precise strikes of water, flying at a high speed.

Finally, one of the blows landed, a punch that had him spinning to the ground. Six more of the bandits lay crumpled around Amath, but now they all pounced, leaping onto him to restrain his arms, while another threw a solid punch into his face, causing his nose to start bleeding profusely. They were angry at him for injuring, or possibly killing, some of their friends, he didn't really know.

More blows rained upon him, but Amath could hardly feel them. Instead, he felt his mana, roaring. No more... The blood that had poured from his nose suddenly solidified into a crystal spear, arcing forth to impale the man in front of him, as his eyes flashed darkly. A twist of his fingers, and it split into two, the throats of the men behind him suddenly pierced. Dropping to the ground, he frowned. Four more bandits, but now he was mad.

Blood continued to drip.
(Amath)

The feat pulled off by his comrade was rewarded with the panicked reaction of crowding figures, respositioning about him, stumbling over prior to fixating their stature-- Weapons, once casted aside were unsheathed, or picked back up from the earthen soil to their defense.

No longer were they taking chances with what conclusive evidence eyes laden upon-- Cavaders of once loved men, having sided for them for an unknown quantity of time, now extinguished of their lifeforce, if not brought to a struggling brim of what they once more, clinging on to life, as they drowned under their own oozing blood.

To the earth, they'd rest, with an uncontested intimacy; An occasional twitch of the nervous system sparking motion was all that. The sanguine fluids of the fallen scoured the air with a fine mist, likely to be manipulated by the Blood-bender at his volition should he choose.

Hector's scenario was far less favorable, restrained in a full-nelson armlock, an attacker wrapping his arms vertically over his shoulder region from beneath the armpits, arching behind his head, thrusting it forward to provide him with no leverage. Being a mere child straining against the likes of a young man, strength was not of a strongsuit. Legs kicked out to the Veris' child defense, eyes watery, and a moan escalating from his gullet--

"You know kid? I wasn't thinkin' I'd ever come t' find the snot that made this happen t' me, but now that I 'ave? I can't tell ye' how much I'm going to enjoy this."
The Bandit leader relished every juncture of it all, oblivious to the contingency of Amath's uproar; Pandemonium was manifested the moment such advanced artistry took shape before their perception.

Hector clenched his eyelids shut, balling fingers into tight fists, bracing for the brunt of the punishing shortblade. All reality seemed to cast aside; Leaving only him, his restraint, and the judge-jury-and-executioner.
"Oh, no-no-no, I can't have your eyes closed. I didn't get to see how you cut my stomach, but I'll make sure you -do-."

A rugged hand grasped coursely at the right side of his face, tightly pinching at Hector's ear and shaking him to force him to cringe at the pain. "Open your eyes!" He demanded in a cold, odious tone-- Brief pause, subjected to the child's fearful disobedience aroused fury, bringing ascension to the repungnant attitude ployed by the Town-bully.
"I said, open the damn eyes, before I CUT YOUR EYES OUT INSTEAD!"

The threat was coincided with a brutal jolt against the boy's ear, soon after climbing his hold to his ashen hair, whipping it up, to expose his neck. The dagger was drawn forth, squelching the child with the frigid touch of against one's visage.

The transition of the blade across one's face was the advocating surface provided by tears, allowing it to slip over skin for the eye sooner. Though, even as one done such, it was slow-- Building tension and suspense to which, none other than Amath could intervene, but at the course such was going, it was skeptical.

The gruesome scene was taking a turn for the worse, leaving Hector to succumb to the morbid thoughts that haunted him prior-- Being powerless, vulnerable, incapable of protecting himself or his friends... It was depressing, and in this sole moment of isolation, etiolated mentally, he could only cave in to the emotions that'd govern him in the moment.

He dared not open his ears, inviting the darkness of the intricate mind, engulfing him to a submissive stature where consciousness was deemed into question-- Though, he went limp, seemingly fainting as the cruel deed was approaching its prelude, he was truly far from it, finally coming in tune with the subconsciousness that orchestrated the secondary circuitary system within his person: The Mana Circuit.

"I'm done talking." The blade parted from skin, angled for a dive into the right eye's socket, prepared for penetration of the flesh.

The eyes opened, baring witness to what would play out in decelerated animation. A sensation tingled beneath the skin, the rattle of one's willpower malleable to fabricate the very element his emotions would drive him to materialize. Fingers in his right arm parted, allowing beads of water to whip from the air, conjured by the humidity that idled within the atmosphere, originally invisible to the human eye until now--

It hushed across his fingers, trickling with constant motion, defying the lag of reality with its haste.
"You and me alike." Hector responded, no longer burdened by fear, having come to realize of his identity in a moment he needed it most: He was, hence this day forth, a magi!

Fingers stiffened, erected, and wrist pivoted--
All works to direct the ample quantity of water, hardly enough to clutch in open palms into a thin sting, piercing in a slashing motion-- Whip-like in quality, slicing above the nasal region of his attacker, spawning crimson mist into the air. The Town-bully, blinded, stumbled back some, evolving his grunt into a anguish-riddled cry.

The dagger was dropped, and hands cuffed offer his bleeding face, and as reward for this act, Hector was heaved to the ground, away, so that his captor may run to his comrade's aid. It would provide hiatus, but not for long...

"MY EYES!" The bully cried out, beckoning the attention of others to his aid.
Meanwhile, those that once surrounded Amath parted ways for the most part, all aside from the exceptional pair that managed to find spot behind him, raising their blades in unison to strike down upon his shoulders.

The only sound of their arrival, was the patter of their boots against solid earth.
(Hector Veris)

Perhaps Hector still referred to them as bullies, but to Amath, they were more than that. Deadlier, they had a threat about them, as the bruises on his form indicated, alongside the blood steadily flowing from his nose. He pushed himself steadily to his feet, watching as the remaining four split into groups, one heading off to aid their leader against Hector, though Amath was too out of it to see what had happened, and the other pulling out swords to face him. The gloves had come off, it seemed.

They charged him with bloodlust in their eyes, a fatal mistake. Amath was wounded, angry, and already tired of this encounter. More of the crimson liquid flowed up from the ground, crystalizing into shards and flying towards the bandits. One or two of the shards would have done little to their armored bodies, but many struck at unarmored skin, the face and hands.

The barrage ended when they finally dropped, more blood leaking out from them than had ever been thrown. His enemies dispatched, Amath walked over to pick of one of their swords. It fit finely in his hands, long enough to block an attack easily enough, and made from a seemingly study metal to his untrained eye. Finally, he realized the commotion behind him, turning about to help his friend, if he needed it.
(Amath)

The Veris child ascended to his feet, once mutable and metaphorrical putty in the opposition's gaze, but now? Transformed, Reborn-- The power that coursed through his vessel was realized, and no longer in need of growth that could come from the fundamental tomes he studied day in, and day out.
Once beguiled by the artistry he fancied to be fantasy to his personage, he stood tall, enveloped with a facade of stoicism.

The Town-bully rose to his feet, parting his open hands from his bloodied countenance, revealing eye sockets, once skewered by a piercing line of the atmosphere's water, now but fleshy remains, tainted with obscure formations of sanguine mass, indented with the strike made its mark.

There were only two now... He, and his partner, noted by the bully's aid--
"They're all down, man." He drew out the concluding syllables of his speech, uneased by the turn of events. "Both of them, they're magi, Rick!" warned the Bully's aid.

Rick, the former bandit leader, went still-- Paralyzed by the news.
"A- All of them?" The once-formiddible foe spoke with farcical tone, whimpering even--
The catastrophic event of loss captured one whom only knew a life of theft, of life, of possession, tainted by greed-- Constantly intent on mising grasping on more, to furfill his materialistic lust, but now? He learned firsthand of the victim's end of such plots.

He was beraeved of all of his friends, with the exception of one-- An individual that guided him out of the grotesque zone of the cavern, laden with corpses of transgressors; On that day, Sin, was repaid with sin. Though, albeit exchange upon the plain of blood, it remained far from equivelent.

". . . No more." Hector stated with summoned courage. "Leave me and my friends alone." The words he spoke, backed up by his former act, and visualization of Amath's capability, forced the two to flee into the cavern's darkness, vanishing into the ebony shade that engulfed the duo in its opacity.

With victory finally achieved, eyes turned to bare witness to Amath's condition--
To his surprise, far from defeated or worse, extinguished; He stood amongst a latter of bodies, drowning in their own internal fluids, vermillion pools crawling away from the cavader dune. The sight piked at Hector's chest, having never come to concieve the mere thought of death before-- It was terrifying to him.

A young mind was far too innocent to truly understand it, and thus earned the reaction of backpedalling. A triumphant moment was murdered, replaced by a lax doppelganger: Fear. It stuttered in his voice, "A- Amath! Th- Those people..." He was shaking, having never realizing the true potential of this encounter's outcome until now.

"Th- They're bleeding!" He cried out, "They n- need help." To many, this would be considered pathetic-- But as one whom wished to heal any and all, despite alignment, it was to-be expected.
However, such wouldn't persist, as the culprit to such an act was standing amongst their fallen remains.

"...W- Why did hurt them like that, Amath?"
(Hector Veris)

 He smiled at Hector, having apparently unlocked magical ability in the desperation of the moment, having ripped the eyes of the bandit out of their sockets. They'd driven off their enemies... The smile disappeared at Hectors apparent horror, as he scrambled away from his friend. The action caused Amath to look around cautiously, worried that there may be more enemies, until Hector spoke out again.

Then he understood. Hector had never had to fight, defend himself. What Amath had done was... Drastic, but necessary. They'd pulled out their swords and tried to take his belongings. Amath had just responded with what he believed to be equivalent force. "Hector... They're out of our help, if I wanted to help them."

He walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder. The blood had stopped flowing from his nose, but it was bruised with the tell-tale signs of atleast a black eye forming. "I defended myself. They were going to beat me, break me, cut you open... You don't think we were in the right? They drew their swords so I responded as such... Though, I'm not sure how I did what I did."

He held his hand up, looking at it blankly, as tiny globs of blood swirled into it, his own being pulled from his face. "They deserved it..."
(Amath)

The approach of his friend felt so foreign, and as such came to be-- He couldn't help but feel as though he was encroached upon by something much more malignant than what he witnessed months prior.
Amath's facade was tainted, not by the victory via bizarre means-- Rather, the sheer lethality condoned to in the act.

"B- But..." The hand upon his shoulder stiffened him up, too fearful to even cringe. "They didn't deserve..." Vision ran its focus upon the slaughtered fodder behind Amath, blurring out his friend that stood before him.
"T- To die.." He uttered, pupils trembling. He was the sole eyewitness to murder-- Could it be ruled out as manslaughter? How could such be concieved into such a possibility without the recurring doubt rolling back into his mind.

"Even if they were bad people, no one deserves to die." His gaze was outright fixated on a sole individual he swore to have taken up movement, irking somewhat despite the severe cuts into his flesh; Could such an individual still be alive? Hector had to make sure.

He broke away from Amath's resting arm to charge in for the man, even if he was once inimical, Hector found too much compassion for one in lesser stature than himself to simply sit back as they withered away. The discharge of aquamancy, even if it was minimal, granted him the confidence to persist in his personal mission.

He grasped at an available arm, prying at it with strain enough to part the moribund body, revealing the extent of his wounds to surprisingly be just that, perhaps even capable of being spared of such a damning fate.

Unfortunately for this man, he lacked the armor his comrades harbored, making him a prime target for a stray strike of blood-bending across his person, through another ally of his own, surprisingly enough, not clear through the body.

"If I did it once, I can do it again..." He spoke to himself, drowning his fears out with constant murmurations of hope-- An optimist, hoping to discover the greater conclusion to this strife.
Now, laid out across the floor, streaks of his own blood paving clear route from the mound he was dragged from tainting the scene with a grotesque facade.

He placed both hands upon the gaping wound, resulting in the gush of internal fluid, blemishing the skin with the pungent vermillion hue. He blanched at the sight, but forced himself to conquer the fear-- Mana from his personage surged beneath the surface of the skin, concentrated where flesh hugged broken flesh-- Albeit, incapable mending openings, empowered to perseverence via ambition.

Beads of water, whether it'd be from his own sweat, or the humidity captured by the cavernous atmosphere was siphoned, crafting a particular gelatinous form that left flesh asunder-- No longer slick with blood, but cushioned with a thin layer of soothing waters, constantly flowing in a rotary fashion to heal the body. Though, no matter his experience nor potence, not even aquamancy could spare this one from his fate.

More blood spawned from his parting lips, wan physique warning such such with the gurgling of rising substance-- He was too far gone, too severely injured, dying before the boy's eyes. He was attempting to heal a corpse, back to life to no avail-- Denial manipulated him, forced him to press onward...

"H- He's not waking up." He spoke feebly, incrementing from a breathy tone, trembling as he done so.
"H- He's..." Eyes watered, even for a foe, "He's dead.... I- .. I couldn't heal him...." The spell stopped, and hands rose to turn to bloodied palms.

"W- Why couldn't... Why couldn't I heal him?..." He asked on the verge of tears, feeling that even with such an accomplishment, he remained incompetent in his healing capability.
"W- Why couldn't I... Mend his wounds?" The innocence was shattered--
No longer was he a simpleminded kid whom sought out an all-saving magic, but one whom realized the world was not as one-laned as originally assumed.
Shoulders slumped, already on his knees, having failed the attempted procedure...
(Hector Veris)

Amath was at a loss for how to react to Hector. He was trying to have mercy for those that had attacked them! Perhaps some of them hadn't been terrible people, bullied into submission in one way or another, but that didn't make much of a difference when they were assaulting his form. He'd just done what he had to, to keep himself safe and intact. Survival of the fittest. The rule of the street.

When Hector failed, as Amath knew he would, it didn't snap him out of the delirium. It only saddened him, and a sigh passed through the teens lips. "Hector... Some did survive. The rest attacked me, what was I to do, let them? Would you rather it be you? Maybe they didn't deserve death, but we can't have remorse for something like this. Come on, let's get back to town, figure out what to do."
(Amath)