The Distortion

Laith yawned, staring at the orb in the sky lit by a feeble fire, otherwise known as the first flame. The time of the day was still dependent on the sun, only no longer by its position. In a sense, the sun was always up, its behavior defining day and night. It burned at varying degrees during daytime and extinguished its own flames, emitting a dim residual light like a smoldering coal, during the night.

Naturally, the change pertaining to the sun’s static nature obsoleted the four cardinal directions. Adding to that the complete absence of any semblance of stars spotted in the dark sky—a grim sight—that left only two main directions to orient depending on your proximity to the sun: proximal and distal.

Laith was already at the meeting location. The time of the meeting provided a perfect cover-up for him since it coincided with the hour of prayer. The place, however, would surely raise questions so it was imperative that his mother not know about it lest she make a fuss of it—she wouldn’t care in the slightest what was written in the note. Although he wouldn’t really blame her for overreacting in this case, for he also had his reservations.

Various recognizable monuments were dropped in a favorable location after the Distortion, allowing them to flourish once more within their respective civilizations. Not this poor roman colosseum. It was too hard to capitalize on by any population or community the way it was dusted with heaps of sand.

And that made it a strange place for a meeting, suspicious even. The place was deserted. It was in the middle of nowhere, a matter Laith didn’t particularly consider when he first read the note. He was too preoccupied with the other million questions on his mind. But now that he was here, he started to question it.

Why would anyone want to meet in here? It’s just sand, heat, some ruins and a whole lot of…nothing. What did I get dragged into?

Laith was quick to get nervous, so it was rather fortunate that he wasn’t allowed to sit with that feeling for very long. Still, it was rather hard to describe what happened soon after as fortunate.

“Heeeeeeeelp! Heeeeeeeelp! Over heeeeeeeere!”

A man’s shouting echoed in the emptiness…and much like the handwriting of the note, it sounded awfully familiar. But Laith didn’t get the chance to think about it as the silhouette of the man asking for help started to manifest ever so slowly. Laith dashed towards the figure in order to get a better and closer look at the scene, only to spot two different silhouettes chasing the first one.

Though he couldn’t clearly make them out yet, he recognized they couldn’t have belonged to human beings. The shape, the way they “ran” and the odd sounds they were making, everything seemed almost… robotic. Whatever it was, Laith deemed it safer to call for backup if he were to deal with them, and he made sure he had one before coming, an insurance policy of sorts.

Laith simply whistled.

As he was finally in close range of the pursuit—that much had become clear to him by now—he could better discern the previously shadowy silhouettes, though the details were still lacking.

The one being hunted was a man wearing brown trousers and laced boots. An unbuttoned white coat was worn over a buttoned blue shirt, reminiscent of a doctor or a scientist working in a lab. A type of clothing he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. The man in the white coat carried a bag which made continuous clanging sounds as he was fleeing.

Considering the circumstances, Laith couldn’t afford to get a very good look at his face—the amount of hair surrounding his face didn’t help either. The only detail he made out were the glasses over his eyes.

The two figures after him, however, were a sight to behold. After getting a much better look at them, and despite his initial assumption being correct, Laith unconsciously let his guard down for a brief moment.

A slight hesitation that nearly cost him his life.

The only thing he could call them at that time was “robots” and it seemed fairly obvious for him considering they were made entirely of metallic parts. What Laith initially thought was “running” was in reality an engine integrated in the back of their legs propelling them forward. A similar mechanism allowed them to fly, though floating would be more accurate seeing how the height at which they were hovering was minor.

If it wasn’t for the unknown individual’s sudden warning, Laith would’ve probably kept contemplating in utter shock.

“You idiot don’t space out! They will shoot you!” the man in the white coat screamed.

Thankfully, that was enough to make Laith come to his senses and realize that his robotic opponents were getting ready to fire at him. Each began firing a barrage of bullets, bullets that were not shot out of a gun, rather their own fingers.

Laith rapidly pulled out his scimitar instinctively and lowered himself to evade the bullets coming his way, owing his quick response to his battle experience. Without delay, he plunged his left hand in the soft ground, picking up a fistful of sand to throw it at the robots. The idea was to disturb their vision, sensors, movement… anything would help.

While this was his first encounter with any sort of robotic opponent in this world, he still maintained some knowledge from before the Distortion. Coupled with his sharp instincts as a Fares, the combination definitely proved helpful.

He never faced these things before and yet…he’s good, even better than I expected, the man in the white coat was impressed at this maneuver.

From that low position, Laith lunged at one of the robots, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He followed by swinging his big sharp blade at the head—or whatever functioned as a head—guessing it housed the core of this thing before him.

Laith expected his blade to collide with a solid metal that would require a little more power than usual. Although he did generate an absurd amount of strength that shook the air itself, the metal wasn’t cut…it bent. The robot’s head was both hard and supple at the same time. A troublesome combination of traits.

What the hell is this thing?

Unfortunately, Laith didn’t have the luxury to thoroughly analyze his opponent since he had to manage two threats that just recovered from the sand disrupting their signals briefly. Laith pulled back some distance, preparing for the potential oncoming barrage. The robots unloaded.

Laith proceeded to block some bullets with the flat of his sword. It was a self-taught maneuver he developed in an attempt to counter projectiles shot his way—it was only possible due the sheer width of his blade. A combination of blocking and dodging allowed him to survive the second wave of bullets directed at them.

The robots didn’t follow with another round.

Seems like they have a cooldown on their shooting. I could use that.

Laith used that window to get closer to one of them, sheathing his sword back into its scabbard. No point swinging it if it wasn’t able to cut through its target—for now at least. The automatons were stuck in place, making some clunky sounds as they reloaded.

Laith positioned himself behind one of them, wrapping his arms around the robot’s and locking them in place. The robot tried to free itself by pushing its legs upward or forward, to no avail. Overpowering a Fares in peak physical condition proved difficult even for a robot.

Laith’s next course of action was to damage his target through friendly fire. The shots never came.

Damn, they’re not just shooting in my direction. They identify their target before attacking.

Although his plan failed, it provided him with some time to think. He was somewhat protected behind the robot’s back.

Doubt this will work, but let’s try it anyway.

Laith pulled at the robot’s arms while simultaneously pushing its body in the opposite direction with his right foot. If he couldn’t cut this thing, maybe he could rip its arms off. The metal was supple, but perhaps it couldn’t extend. Too bad it did…somehow these machines were made of an elastic metal, however that made sense.

Are you kidding me? How did they combine the properties of steel and rubber into one material?

Laith was running out of options. He couldn’t remember being met with something he couldn’t slice in two. So it proved quite bothersome that the sword wasn’t the answer this time…or was it?

It was then that Laith noticed a strange occurrence where his foot was pressing against the robot. The latter’s finer constitution was laid bare, its mechanical body seemingly made out of two layers of sorts. The outer part granted the robot its elastic properties while the inner part was responsible for sturdiness.

It was as if these things replicated the human body, imitating the skin with the rubber part and the bones with the tough metal. How that came to be was beyond him, but it was of no concern at the moment. Laith found a way to bypass the enemy’s tricky defenses.

Heat: that was the answer he was looking for.

Under the pressing foot, the robot’s framework had clearly lost some of its elasticity with the hard component beginning to melt. In fact, the disruption in the robot’s composition was happening across its entire body, albeit not to the same degree as where Laith’s foot stood. He quickly realized it was mainly due to his feet being in contact with the burning sand for all this time.

This kind of environment usually favored him, but this time it really favored him. These artificial soldiers, however advanced, were not designed to fight in the extreme conditions present in the desert which harbored many natural terrors…and Laith was one of those terrors.

Laith grinned, leaping back and drawing his sword. The robots pointed their fingers at him and began shooting. This time, Laith dodged by running circles around them, all the while dragging his blade through the ground, rubbing it against the heated sand.

The maneuver was dangerous since he could no longer block with his sword being rammed to the earth, which ultimately led to four or so bullets connecting with him. He wasn’t bothered by it; his body could sustain the pain. His Incarnation granted him a sturdy body. Not only that, but he tolerated a bullet injury the best out of most injuries; projectiles were not as lethal to him.

A wound by a melee blade was the worst.

He accomplished a total of twenty laps in the span of twenty heartbeats. An extraordinary speed that generated a sizeable whirlwind of sand. Standing in the midst of the newly defined arena, Laith inspected his scimitar. Reddened steel with steam coming off of it. The blade looked as if it just left the blacksmith’s furnace. Strong and rapid friction against heated sand had accomplished exactly what he was aiming for.

The robots had to reload. Everything lined up perfectly.

Laith charged vigorously at one of the robots, slicing its arms off in quick succession with ease this time around. However effective their design was, it still presented a flaw, more like a weakness really, for no craft was perfect. And once that imperfection was uncovered, a dismantling of the entire system became possible.

Ultimately, hacking through the robots became a simpler task, much like cutting down wood logs, from Laith’s perspective that is. Yet, he still did it with unrestrained brute force. An unnecessary effort, but when it pertained to battle, he was never one for saving energy.

Fried circuits fluttered where the arms were sliced as the robot started behaving erratically. To avoid further surprises, Laith followed with an arching strike to the chest. The robot, cut in half, sputtered before it fell to the ground. Laith proceeded to casually remove the bullets from his flesh; the ensuing pain prompted no more than a grunt on his part. He didn’t even bother with the bleeding.

He took the opportunity to take a quick glance at the robot to analyze its design, which left more to be desired. As was often the case with robots, the outward anatomy was that of a humanoid, a body with four members and a head. The latter—precisely the face—showed neither mouth nor nose, just a couple of red glowing lenses instead of eyes.

What Laith ignored at the time was that the bland design was intentional; these robots were intended to be just that, murder machines, nothing more, nothing less.

“You idiot, behind you!” the man in the white coat screamed.

The whirlwind of sand had subsided and the man in question was visible again. Laith didn’t panic this time, despite the sudden warning and being completely exposed to the second robot’s assault. He left his back wide open knowingly when he finished the first robot off because he knew someone would cover for him. His backup had arrived; Laith spotted him while he was running around the robots.

I was wondering whether you’d show up or not.

Orange reddish fur with black stripes and a thunderous roar: a full-fledged tiger pounced savagely at the robot and started tearing it apart with his sharp teeth and claws. The tiger had been running quite the distance, exposing both his paws and claws to the heated sands. His legs had become like branding iron without even realizing it, an upgrade that saved him a whole lot of trouble.

Laith envied his companion for his luck. The tiger had skipped Laith’s thought process entirely and had an easier time finishing off his target. The animal even tried to get a bite out of his victim, but he quickly realized there was nothing valuable to chew on. It didn’t take much longer for the robot to shut down, just like the other one.

“You sure took your sweet time!” Laith said to the beast who responded with a growl, as if he didn’t like that comment.

“What? My life was on the line while you were too busy unlocking the mystery of the mirage. And you still want me to thank you? Not happening.”

The tiger moaned, stooping his head as if admitting his mistake and asking for forgiveness. An attitude that always made Laith go soft on him and reward him with a pat on the head.

“A rather friendly behavior from a tiger, who is he?” the man in a white coat asked.

“You should be grateful he hasn’t sunk his fangs in your throat just yet. ’Who the hell are you?’ is the more pressing question.” Laith answered with a stern voice as he turned to face him

“I have to say, I’m slightly offended that you still haven’t recognized me, little brother.”

“………...Adam?”