Threads of the Soul

Now, you may think that jumping off a building to your death to avoid simple teleportation sickness would be a touch melodramatic. Then again, you have never experienced teleportation sickness, have you? So what would you know, huh?

In any case, even if it was a bit over the top to avoid the contents of his stomach being spun around like a washing machine on crack, jumping to his death was not what Seth was doing. At least it's not what he was planning to do, but maybe life would surprise him this time.

Even before he had stepped off the balcony, he was already putting his plan into motion. The leftover sword, a broadsword to be exact, which had been hovering diligently beside his head, had finally received its orders. Speeding through the air, like an excited kid on Christmas morning, the sword darted beneath Seth's feet as he plummeted through the air.

It matched his speed for a second, before gently slowing down until his feet landed on the floating weapon. One foot on the firm, steel blade while the other rested on the round pommel and hilt of the sword.

He had only reached the third floor, or should he say that he had only recently fallen past it, when he started to gradually slow down. Unfortunately, it wasn't a graceful process. He had never surfed before, which I know is completely shocking for the pale shut-in nerd from a dreary country like Scotland. Whilst he had tried skateboarding before, it was only once when he was in primary school. He had fallen flat on his face and never tried again.

So with that knowledge, it was safe to say this idea was not made from a genius idea, but more from a desire to imitate the many novels he had read and anime he had watched throughout his troubled youth.

So, Doing his best to live out his sword surfing fantasies, Seth controlled his descent to the best of his abilities.

Which is to say that he nearly fell half a dozen times.

In fairness, it wasn't exactly as easy as he thought it would be in his mind. With the sword under his control, while also being attached to him in an impossible way through his threads, it was less graceful than expected. It wasn't just balance he had to concern himself with, but the control of the sword itself and not increasing its speed by too much or over extending himself in the process.

It reminded him of a time as a boy, when he tied a rope to a wooden board to a rope and then threw the rope over a tree branch. If you stood on the board and had someone else pull the rope, you could be lifted into the air. Simple as could be.

But if you held the rope and pulled, the board would rise and, if you pulled in the rough way, you could rise with it. Except most people didn't pull it right.

Instead of pulling with their arms and reeling it in, they'd pull with their back and fall backwards as their legs suddenly rose while they were off balance.

That was precisely the issue Seth found himself experiencing once again. He could raise and lower the sword to account for speed, but if he did it when he was unbalanced it could help slightly or more likely seriously hinder.

By the time he was starting to get a grasp on the process, the sword came to a sudden halt that sent him stumbling as he gracelessly clattered onto the ground.

Now that he was finally back on solid ground, Seth quickly straightened up his clothing and brushed himself off. Despite the less than impressive landing that was sure to get him points off with the judges, he was quite proud of himself.

The attempt might have been lacklustre and have looked utterly ridiculous, it at least confirmed his thoughts on the matter. With practice, like a serious amount of practice, the concept of soaring through the air with nothing but his own will power, and a sword beneath his feet, propelling him was an achievable goal.

He might not have gained a flash ability, but even still he was going to fly. The ultimate dream of every human since they were able to look up and see the birds.

He was quickly yanked out of his super heroic fantasies by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Wincing at the sound, and the memories of disappointed school teachers it brought with it, Seth slowly turned around to find Fox, Bob and the injured man standing behind him.

Of course, Omelette and the ice dog were there too, he couldn't forget about the most important things there. But, even their cuteness wasn't enough to save him from the disappointed scowl of the fatherly Fox. Damn that sly old fox and his teleporting tricks.

"Was that really necessary?"

He spoke with a dry tone, one that was clearly meant to make Seth feel ashamed or guilty for his actions. Yet Seth felt none of that, simply looking back at the grey haired man with a dumb smile plastered across his face, par for the course for someone who had discovered he could fly.

"Abso-fuckin-lutely it was. I'd do it again if I could. I plan on doing it again the next time I can."

Fox simply gave him a resigned sigh in response, shaking his head as he helped the injured man plod his way through the water filled street and back over to the rest of the group. However, before Seth could even think about taking another practice at flying, those thoughts were washed away by the few dozens gallons of water suddenly dunked on top of his head.

He stood there, simply frozen and unable to react, as the icy droplets dribbled down his back and stole away his warmth. His shaggy hair clinging tight to his head as drops fell from his nose in a rhythmic pattern.

Narrowing his eyes into a withering glare, he directed it at the slime girl who was walking into his view. With a coy smirk plastered across her face, and having just returned to her usual size after dumping out the excess water, Cynthia gently wiped her mouth of the few droplets that still remained on her lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry Silver. I didn't see you there. Surely you know I would never do such a thing on purpose, right?"

Although she had spoken with a somewhat convincing, apologetic tone of voice, the shit-eating grin that quite literally reached her ears was a not so subtle give-away of her true intentions. Not that anyone with a brain would ever believe her regardless, but it was nice to see that she didn't bother trying to hide her sarcasm.

Slicking his soaking wet hair back, Seth flicked the water off of his fingers in her direction before starting to straighten up his now dishevelled state.

"I'm gonna kill you for that, you know. Better start watching your back."

"Oooooh, I'm so scared~ What are you going to do? Make me watch a puppet show until I die of boredom?"

As Cynthia began to giggle to herself, Seth dismissed his armour before immediately bringing it back out, which gave him a perfectly fresh and dry version of his armour despite the recent shower. Even if he had to be soaked, there was no need to stay standing around in wet clothes. It was a handy feature, for situations such as this. Angel had also informed him that this process would repair damage to the armour, although that would take more time than a mere single second dismissal.

Turning on his heels, he simply ignored Cynthia's jibes and pokes at him, content in the fact that his boots weren't squelching with every step.

As he approached the rest of the group, he took in the sorry sight of them and truly understood the toll that the battle had taken on them. Fox seemed to be the best out of all of them, barring himself and Corvus of course, as he merely sat on a car with his sword stuck into the ground as he leaned on it for support. It seemed that exhaustion was the most of his problems, but whether it was from the rapid teleportation or simply the physical burden of swinging that katana so many times, Seth had no idea.

Astra was sprawled across the ground, her muscles writhing and spasming underneath her skin, like a clew of worms trying to tear themselves free of the confines of her body. Her expression was almost as flat and rigid as Bob's, yet from the small twitching of her eye and the way she occasionally clenched her jaw, he could tell that it wasn't due to a lack of emotions or pain.

He hadn't quite got a hold of her personality yet, but perhaps he would get there one day. If he lived long enough.

The moist knight, who was for some reason wearing nothing but his underpants, was drifting in and out of sleep as he sat next to the injured man that they had recovered from the goblins torture. The only one's still full of life were the pets, who were happily wrestling each other and splashing about in the puddles, the dog freezing them while Omelette treated them more like a bird bath.

Even Cynthia, though she hid it behind jokes, was drained from the battle. Her steps were slower and her feet would often revert back to piles of slime as the concentration needed to retain their form slipped occasionally. Other parts of her form, such as her hair and the more detailed aspects of her face that she had recently gained, were slipping as she reverted back to her more simplistic form. The one that she had when Seth first met her.

That didn't stop her from putting on a wide smile and puffing out her chest as she gestured towards the charred carcass of the titan that had nearly bested the lot of them.

"So, what are we going to do with this big fella? I'm not getting big again and we don't have the muscle necessary to drag him an inch never mind all the way back to base."

Under the commands of Seth, Corvus stepped forward and placed a hand on Cynthia's shoulder. Tilting his head slightly, to give the impression that he was giving her a reassuring smile underneath his mask, his hoarse and strained voice forced itself out once again in his usual grunting tone.

"I can help with that."