章 4: Chapter 4: Who Holds the Real Power (1)
Dark clouds began to shroud the bustling streets of Republic City, Kre'as ambled with purposeful leisure, a faint smirk playing on his lips. At his side, Yakone shuffled with the stiffness of a man walking towards his own execution, his eyes darting nervously through the crowd.
"Isn't it beautiful, this city of yours?" Kre'as remarked, gesturing languidly at the melding of traditional architecture and modern progress surrounding them. "A testament to what can be achieved when cultures collide."
"Indeed," Yakone muttered, barely concealing his contempt.
"Soon your world's culture will collide with mine, or more accurately be devoured by mine," Kre'as said ominously a stark contrast to the smile plastered on his face, Yakone thought how someone could say something so foreboding, but keep a smile on your face as if you were taking a leisurely stroll through a garden.
They wove through the throngs of people, past vendors hawking sizzling street food and children playing pretend as the avatar. As they turned into an alley less frequented by the common populace, the number of prying eyes dwindled, replaced by shadows that clung to the walls like dark omens.
Kre'as noted the change of scenery but remained unfazed, his stride as confident as ever. The alley opened up into a wider courtyard, encircled by towering buildings that seemed to lean in, eavesdropping on the imminent betrayal.
"Here we are," Yakone announced, stopping abruptly. "The heart of my... our operations."
"Quaint," Kre'as quipped, scanning the area.
Men began to emerge from doorways and stairwells, forming a loose circle around the pair. Their expressions were a mix of confusion and suspicion as they took in the sight of their boss, subjugated by the whims of an outsider.
"Yakone, what is this?" one of the men barked, his brow furrowed. "Why do you bring him here?"
"Patience," Yakone replied with a strained smile. "All will be revealed."
With a curt nod that seemed to slice through the tension, Yakone gave the prearranged signal. The gathered benders erupted into action, a maelstrom of fire, earth, and water hurtling towards Kre'as.
Unperturbed by the display, Kre'as stood still as a statue, observing the chaos with the detached interest of a scholar studying an interesting specimen. Despite the onslaught, not a hint of concern marred his calm demeanor, the smirk never leaving his face as he prepared to unleash his own brand of retaliation.
Kre'as chuckled softly as the first wave of attacks surged toward him. The air sizzled with elemental fury, crackling embers and splintering stone slicing through the space where he stood moments ago. But Kre'as was no longer there. With an agile side-step that belied his towering frame, he plucked Yakone from his position and thrust him forward like a puppet on strings.
"Shield!" Kre'as barked with sardonic cheer, as Yakone's body intercepted a jet of flame meant for him. The firebender's eyes widened in disbelief as his own attack enveloped Yakone, blackening his clothes and singing his skin. The scent of scorched fabric and flesh filled the air, and Yakone staggered, coughing violently, his movements sluggish and pained.
"Cease your foolishness!" Yakone's voice rasped, strained from smoke and betrayal. He gestured wildly, his authority hanging by a thread as thin as the wisp of hair escaping his singed topknot. The gang members, their ferocity faltering, glanced hesitantly between their charred leader and the untouched titan before them.
Kre'as, whose grin had vanished with the humor he found in their incompetence, gave a languid flick of his wrist. "Enough games," he murmured, and the ground beneath the gang's feet shimmered ominously. A chill spread rapidly, frost racing across the cobblestones, climbing up boots and ankles.
In an instant, ice erupted upwards in lethal spikes, skewering the hapless benders with a violence that echoed off the surrounding buildings. They fell, one by one, crimson blossoms unfurling upon the frozen ground, while the few who remained unscathed could only stare in horrified silence.
Yakone, his body a patchwork of burns and bruises, dropped to his knees amidst the carnage. His chest heaved with labored breaths as he looked up at Kre'as, recognition of his own mortality—and that of his men—etched into his weary face.
Kre'as surveyed the frozen tableau, the red stains stark against the white ice, his expression unreadable. The air hung heavy with the coppery tang of blood and the brittle clarity of winter's touch. In this moment, Kre'as was not simply a man, but the harbinger of a cold, merciless justice.
Yakone's knees buckled, his forehead pressing into the cold, blood-stained ice. His once proud stature crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut, the realization of defeat seeping into him like the chill from the ground below. He looked up at Kre'as through singed lashes, eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe.
"Mercy," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, "please."
Kre'as tilted his head, considering the broken man before him. The thought of ending Yakone's life flickered across his mind, as quick and sharp as the ice spikes that had silenced the gang moments ago. But something stayed his hand—a curiosity, perhaps, or an appreciation for the rarity of Yakone's abilities. Blood bending although common in Alantis was not a skill to be squandered.
"Stand," Kre'as commanded, his tone devoid of warmth. "You will serve a greater purpose than you ever did in this pitiful existence."
Yakone struggled to stand, feeling torn between gratitude and fear as he watched Kre'as. Using his abilities, Kre'as encased Yakone in a block of ice with a small opening for his mouth to breathe. Yakone had a look of fear as he was frozen, not understanding what had happened, "relax, you have more use to me as a frozen board, than a shabby tour guide" Kre'as said.
Then, using Yakone as a board, he elevated the frozen Yakone and propelled himself towards the north leaving a trail of melting ice.
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