The newly activated Chi Armour turns over me in gentle whirls, its appearance taking form similar to Gilgamesh's Gauntlets. I feel its protection suffuse my being, a total covering over myself, soaking inside and reinforcing my build. With a slow, appreciative turn of my hands, the current of the mine trying to breach my new defence, I eye the thickened gathering around my lower arms, scanning the shifting patterns.
Soft green, formed into unending lines and familiar runes, emanates from me in constant, dim glow, lightly lighting the area; a beacon of security and strength. A smile dons my lips as I regard the fruition of my work, a creation months in the making and years in conception, my hands clenching tight in success.
Taking a breath, my eyes narrowing, I enjoy the new strength in my blood and bone before reading over its intricacies displayed by ever-present omniscience,
[Power Learned – Chi Armour: A covering of Chi, both spiritual and physical, inspired by an Eternal champion of myth, made in hope of augmenting and strengthening. The call for greater use of current power, the subtleties of Taoism gifted by birthing totality, has led to the making of this second skin, a superimposing over flesh frame.
Born of time lived in this multiverse, its infinite breadth and endless dimensions pressing against every moment and experience, gradually grinding away until realisation, the armour was made with need in mind. A comprehensive technique of the Dao Child, containing your limited understanding of Chi and your own cultivation, Chi Armour is crafted from waiting, yet to be explored fundamentals.
Its acquainted runes bearing your power and abilities, wanting to be understood and studied by their wielder, this armour contains and casts all you know. From Healing and Enhancement, to Manipulation and Detection, they will require no activation while you stand adorned, the armour following your very will and acting in your place.
As standard, the armour acts as a basic shield against most physical harm, but currently provides minimal to no defence from the magical side of things. The augmented strength running through you is another inherent agent of this technique, building upon your knowledge of physical enhancement and taking it further.
The shell of the armour can also be controlled to a certain extent, its size and range able to both expand and retract, though at extra cost and exertion. Pushing it out to open a bubble or drawing it atop your skin in a coat, even sinking it under to hide its appearance, all is feasible. Howbeit not without leaving behind small, visible traces as evidence of its use, its light signifying activity.
With enough training and familiarity, the armour will grow more malleable and complete, its form increasingly shapeable and capable of so much more. From the creation of armaments, to a grand revealing of inner self made giant and the formation of additional appendages, there is nigh-endless applications for you to learn when you try.
A great showing of your growth as a cultivator; the Mother watches, knowing there is more to come.]
Even as I read, finishing in a matter of seconds, I felt an aspect of my new technique begin passive operation, my Healing permeating the seared and pierced flesh of my arm and torso. The cool, pleasantly soothing sensation bathes the wounds, fixing me up at steady pace, all the while I focus on tracking its consumption of my Chi and familiarising myself with its core functions.
I monitor the armours overall drain on my reserves and compare it against the rate of my generation, checking both my constant regen and induced gain, noting the difference. Finding them fluctuating between generally stable and outpacing the techniques usage, the quantity of my Chi remaining near-balanced, I shift tracks.
With the little time I've gained before my inevitable discovery by the searching Guardians, I try and conduct some small tests, studying what I can of its limits. I follow the words of the description, starting by pushing the power of the armour and increasing its density, monitoring as its draw on my Chi grows with every small boost and revolution.
Noting the expenditure and calculating how high and long I can push it, I cease the check and stabilise the armour, its intensity lessening back to normal. Taking heed from the panel, I set about controlling its size, first trying to expand it outwards, observing closely as its bounds slowly rise away from me.
Its clings to my presence liked stringed glue, sticking close and fighting back, a sense of struggle touching upon me and resistance gaining ground. Feeling it all, the strain of keeping it existing becoming apparent and the needed Chi accumulating, I tighten my grip and pull it back, tracing its lines and detailing the paths.
Following the figured way of expansion, I then inverse its channel and attempt to lower the shell, the loops of its lines shrinking and tightening by the second. They soon touch down and around me, the partnering runes hovering still a fraction from my skin; tiny, consistent streams of comforting warmth entering me.
My eyes close as I linger on the touches, my sight fading while my perception brushes a shallow probe of inspection over, defining their shape and investigating the facets they represent and embody. A vastness, incomprehensible and out of reach, indicates back, a blossom of promise tapping in return, a domain of knowledge knowing of my eventual arrival.
I retreat from the expanse with reluctance, choosing not carry anything away, and concentrate anew, bringing my greater senses to bear and memorising the coming step. I start the draw, aiming to bridge the gap and connect to the armour on an intrinsic level, seeking to share equal space and join. The boundary of my physical body blurs, the difference between me and it of no importance and lessening in time, gradually occupying one another.
All tactile feel fades unhurriedly as the armour seeps in, the both of us merging by method beyond my discernment and outside my grasp. It flows inwards and through, playing under my skin and settling in, our beings overlapping and fusing in hug and suit. The wrapping of its blanket losing significance in my detection, two becoming one and combining in new form, my eyes open.
The obvious light of the armour now absent, the surrounding Nidavellir once again lit by its illuminating star, I run my sight over my arms and bare chest. My brows raise in slight surprise as the cracks upon me no longer display gold, but green, the currently internalised Chi Armour showing its traces as promised.
With my bloodsoaked back to the guarding Thor and scarred tits out for all to witness and appreciate, I run my hands down my sides in cast, the burns of the robe knitting quickly and mending. My assets covered and goosebumped skin protected from the stations slight chill, I perform my most thorough known cleaning spell with a small gesture, the blood and soot clearing from me by vanish and disappearing to destination unknown.
Refreshed in body while continuing to be unsettled in mind, I finally turn to the silent Thor, his lone eye patiently watching me go through the motions, and stare, hoping for something. We lock gazes, my pair gazing behind his open, horned helm to the visage greeting, no words spoken in the meantime, a passing of quiet taking hold of us, the thoughts and feeling of the god well kept and unknown.
His stature stands strong, his presence gaining depth and magnitude with every moment, a process happening by completion of ritual, the world around observing. The weight of his existence harmonises with the space around, the two blending with a sense of familiarity, differing aspects not rejecting but accepting, an acknowledgement of the step forward.
The distant Guardians, their hunt continuing without end, sounds in echo in our direction, bouncing along metal structure and over grounded wreckage. Their every shouted, anxious word, frustration particularly evident and increasing in the voice of Peter, wrap in accusation around me, ringing clear in my ears as ceaseless reminder of what's to come, what awaits me.
With nothing spoken from Thor, a wisp of pointless frustration growing inside me at his newfound, continued muteness, I turn my head from him to face nearing retribution. Eyeing the downed ship, I float my protected Ring from its place on my back and slide it back onto its finger, its shape pressing against the collapsed, Ennead-powered shield of Sobek.
My armour helping to resist its attraction, remaining steady and strong against its pull, I kneel down to the cold floor below and place a hand on the still active mine. Storing it away in my Ring, wondering what to do with it all the while, I push against the ground with new strength and stand. Straightening up and brushing down my robe, the beat of my heart quickening with small hesitation, I look out and on.
Running my sight over the path, what little distance there is daunting, the divide a seeming chasm, I gradually gather myself and start to move off. Beginning my walk onwards with first steps and no idea as to the coming result, my decision to be made as I attempt to balance fact and emotion, I find my way blocked by fallen branch, a length of wound wood lying unmoving before me.
I come to an instant stop, the sight of the still smoking limb scratching the wall of my mind, a hint of shame and regret trying to take hold and beg for recognition. My hand extends out slowly, internal magic passing beyond my palm and reaching out, the dismembered extremity gently rising up and floating closer.
It nears me, one end of its weaved wood flared and reaching, before coming to a stop by me, rotating over in display. I examine its structure quietly, the pained cry of its child owner playing back in memory, the feeling of cleaving through singing through my arm. My eyes fix on the limb, upset silently rising as scenes of my early life, the wails of confusion, of no idea as to why, creep back in flashes of recall.
I blink away the reminder with subtle ease, a lifetime of practice coming into play, as calm footfalls sound behind and shadows cross, a presence near my back. My gaze breaks from the arm to glance right at the figure just out of sight, remaining facing forward while offering it the attention it's earned.
I wait in the momentary silence, an inkling as the reason for its approach, when its voice rumbles over me with a composure I wish I had, "Sarah, sorceress and more," it starts, the faintest trace of constant storm in its words, a soundless whirl of eternal wind, "you are not a warrior."
Its statement settles inside me, falling into the mirrored sea of my consciousness, failing to ripple its still surface. I take it in, parsing and dismantling its myriad meanings, storing them away for future consideration and contemplation, feeling a resonance within. Still, I turn further, the face of Thor coming into sight as I stand perpendicular, a wordless request for him to continue in my eyes as I regard him.
He looks above me and out, his expression without any accusation as he says on, "I watched your battle as I stood warden, my sight taking in the currents of your fight, and it's led me to wonder;" Thor lowers his sight to watch me, a depth of empathy behind experienced eyes, "for what purpose do you allow these people to wound you?"
A faded burning upon my chest echoes, a hint of choice taken lingering on healed skin and signalling. My mouth curls down as my lips press together, a heat growing behind my eyes while a strong breath pushes through my nose, when I reply uncertainly, "...It's the least they deserve."
Thor hums, his gaze looking through me and uncovering the obscured as he states, "I do not know these people. I do not know who they are or what they've done; nor, do I know, what you have done to them. But kindness to an enemy is cruelty to one's self." A brightness, shaped as withheld thunder, crackles across his pupils, "Sarah, I am a warrior of Asgard. I fell my foe on any battlefield in defence of the realms and their people.
"As I babe, I was taken to fight in the bosom of my mother, witnessing both war and death across many worlds. I've seen the worst of all and beheld the deepest evil inside every being. For seven hundred years I held myself above the masses, a prince to the mightiest civilisation in all the realms; the birth-righted successor to the Allfather. I killed a great many in the name of protection, and slaughtered a greater number without thought, my strength and power reason enough.
"Then I made a mistake. One which the wisdom of my father saw through with ease." The light recedes, divinity retreating beneath the surface, its breach coming at any moment, "You know the rest, do you not? The eldest of Odin banished from his home, imprisoned and mortal on Midgard." He chuckles, a shadow passing over him, "A test, of course, one which required humility and acceptance to complete. A lesson I failed to learn over multiple, pointless centuries."
I find myself listening intently to him, absorbed into his telling of his character and history, the majority of my attention falling on him. The audible Guardians fade from my focus, their voices distant and unimportant, the turmoil of my thoughts settling somewhat. The chaos stirring through my meditation, my feelings and fears and guilt, all fall to the wayside; Thor's honest disclosure of his self a lighthouse in troubled seas, guiding me to shore.
He keeps on, his cadence steady and measured, "I've changed from who I was in manner most important. The boy who fought for personal glory is no more, his growth long overdue. But I am who I am still, Thor of Asgard, God of Thunder and Son of Odin, the warrior who champions my people. My core will never change, my being from first light one of battle and death; the world witness to my might, put in guardianship of its life."
He smiles at me, staring simply and saying, "I watched as you defended and evaded, allowing those who seek vengeance to do harm upon you. All while you tried to stay your hand, allowing them to do as they wish." His gauntleted hand rises, the wood receding to reveal his bare, rough skin as he places it on my shoulder, his palm laying and his fingers holding, "You are not a warrior, my words and creed will not reach you, not truly, not yet.
"You are young, it is understandable. But that means little to Death, and means even less to your adversaries. Your uncertainty and guilt is clear in your every move, sorceress; emotions that you must not serve willingly. A time will come when you stand before a greater foe, one beyond your magic and struggle, one that will not allow you to hesitate as you do now."
The severed limb of young Groot taps against my arm, my magic beginning to loosen as my focus shifts, leading me to glance down uncertainly. It hovers by me in little motion, wobbling minutely as my hold falters, touching me in repeating rhythm and existing. The patterns of its wood shift in the flickering light of the start, evidence of the once life in now dead body.
Breaking my sight from it, my feelings as to its presence lesser now but still extant, I turn to Thor and answer, the words fighting to be spoken, "I harmed a child."
Thor nods, the motion smooth, "Aye, you did. And yet, the child lives. The tree is a member of a band of mercenaries, one that's sees no harm with it taking to the field of battle. By what right do you judge your foe? It and its allies came at you to kill; you would do well to show them the respect they deserve as your challengers." His hand squeezes, firm yet comforting,
"Do not belittle them with your wavering resolve."
My breath lingers in my chest, lungs aching as my throat tightens and fingers curl into fist. My bones creak under the power of my flesh, the nails digging into my palm and near drawing blood, the armour within preventing my skin from breaking. I let the emotion stay present, to rise up above all others temporarily and take lead, the feeling better out than in.
I keep my face placid, though I know Thor is aware, as I unclench my hand, fingers loosening and hanging free. A small sigh builds inside, seeking to be issued, but I break it up, instead holding my other hand out to the side. The twisted wood drops down with a faint smack, landing to balance on my palm as I dispel the magic holding it up.
I bring it to my front, holding it level with my chest, drawing both our eyes to its form, "I consider you a friend, Thor, and I hope you feel the same. We've not spent much time in each others company, but I'd like to think what we've experienced has grown our relationship, short though it has been." I look up to him, his sight rising to catch my eye and hold my gaze, "I also know we differ in nature, a bridge that cannot be so easily crossed; yet one I attempt to all the same."
The positions of the Guardians closing in in my Detection, my armour increasing its range, I lift the arm and open my Ring. My fingers brush against the wood in tiny probes, its hard material pushing back and proving its being, before I drop it inside and out of sight. Closing it, I resume, "Who I am is something I discover day by day. I grow in self-awareness as I age in time with the coming seconds, moving unavoidably closer and closer to becoming someone I fail to recognise."
A scene, carved with unshakeable clarity and persisting regardless of the constant stream, takes hold of my senses momentarily. The recall happens instantaneously, occurring for a single moment yet lasting a lifetime, a picture stretched perpetually. The sight of shaking stars against cosmic black, the feel of comfortable shell under hands and supporting, an elder, tired head upon shoulder.
The certainty of complete safety.
A slight frown dons his brow, my response seemingly unexpected to him, when I tell, "My personal failings here are something that will follow me for a long time, of that I am certain. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to what needs to be done. The responsibility I hold as the one that started this whole affair isn't one I shirk from, it's merely one I don't want."
I step back, putting space between us and pulling a red-filled jar from my holding as Thor looks on, a look of thought upon his face. I cloak it up in a wrapping of telekinesis and float it away, controlling its height until it leaves my hands and steadily levitates, then flick its lid open and tip it over, the liquid flowing out and catching in my power.
I carry on, offering an explanation as I begin to cast, lines of loose, orange sorcery rising from my fingers, "Simply because I didn't wish for it to come to this doesn't mean I'm content to run and hide, allowing these people to forever hunt me." The lines detaches from me and drift away, dancing round each other in mesmerising movement.
They swim to the blood, separating to encircle and ring in orbit then connecting to and manipulating its shape, forming it into a perfect orb. I lower it down to my hands as I look back to Thor, holding it aloft between them as my fingers begin to move, tapping away, "When I killed their friend, I knew they'd one day come after me, though I didn't quite expect it to be so soon."
Green gathers in my digits as I pull the gift of Arishem from the composition of my Chi, bringing it to the surface to act as guide for the spell. It seeps into the lines as the magic closes in and touches the blood in sequential order, landing one at a time in rippled pulses. The green turns to white-blue as the connection forms, the span branched by similar origins.
The blood flashes once as the spell takes hold and steeps inside, altering its purpose as it begins its familial search. Satisfied with my casting, the sympathetic magic learned from the Book of Kharneth amidst candlelight and sleepless nights, I clap my hands together. My palms meet in silence as the blood shrinks down, condensing to a marble-sized sphere while a whisper sounds past my lips, "Chasm of Relation Bound."
I take the orb in one hand, the level of unnerving warmth contained within heating my fingers as I ruminate on my choice made. It holds my attention as my thoughts birth ideas and ponder consequences, my voice slipping from me with a degree of earned calm, "The memory of that bullet tearing through her skull is one I'll carry with me until the day that I..."
I trail off, not knowing how to continue, before I sigh and compose myself. My eyes close as I reach inwards to my sea, its surface dimly lit beneath by a glimmer of radiance, the core of my being manifesting itself with a formless brilliance. Every cell of my being, reaching across limb and skin to deep inside along bone and through blood, reaches a state a peace as I'm reminded of my conviction.
My sight opens to find the god attentive, a returned tranquillity to my eyes, their whites clear and blacks deep, the gold peering as I inform, "I'm not one to seek death, Thor, far from it. I'm an eternity seeker, a cultivator of the everlasting in search of forever." A true smile curls my lips, the corner of my eyes wrinkling, "I am me, not one of many or a variant of other; this is nothing but a step in my path. One that must be overcome, same as you once did."
My free, loose hand moves to point down, the Sling Ring adorning aimed at the floor as it starts to spin, a small circle of sparks opening slowly. It expands out before us, growing wide and stopping by my shoed toes to reveal an elevated view. A spread group appears below, desperately hunting in trained formation and scouring the area, their heads on a swivel and weapons drawn.
I watch them from my overhead position, the two points of our surrounding space connected by magic, as I fiddle with the orb, twiddling it between my fingers. My gaze fixes on the back of the leading Peter, reading the frantic emotion in his movements and his barely contained despair as the spell imparts confirmation.
I search my mind, probing how I feel and determining my readiness, wanting to know with certainty if this is something I can live with. A calm greets me, a steady acceptance of what's to come; the lack of apathy reassuring. I lift my hand up, holding it palm out over the portal and resting the orb on the tips of my fingers, telling finally to the listening Thor, "Same as those below now might."
My hand tilts down slowly, the blood rolling forward and crawling to the edge, inching ever closer to descent. It balances perfectly, leaning gradually in favour of tipping, creeping over as its weight shifts over time, before...
It falls.
The spell separates from me and departs, beginning its plummet towards its target, shooting down straight with no deviation, unaffected by any outside forces. Caught in the artificial gravity of the station, it closes the gap and nears its recipient evenly, its size shrinking in my sight as it gains distance and lowers.
I turn over my outstretched hand, aiming it down to the gate below, the soft flashes of the gate flickering over my skin and reflecting in my eyes. The wordless voice of Purpose communicates, relaying its intent to me in a brush over mind, a conveying of its readiness and support and willingness to accompany.
A faint, affectionate curls of my lips grows unnoticed, appreciation warming my heart, as I summon it to my grip, its handle appearing under palm. I take it in hold as it floats unaided, waiting to be wielded by chosen master, its tip pointing to the god and gleaming. My foot slides ahead against the metal below, moving to hang out over the opened space as I lean forward, Purpose lowering to ready by my side.
I leave Thor with a last remark as I pitch over, feeling myself start to tip, "Thank you, Odinson." My body enters the portal, transported across space and entering the battlefield, my hair billowing back in the new wind, my arrival imminent. My eyes find the party below, locking onto my first opponent and gaining speed,
Just as the screaming begins to sound.