The earth cascaded like an ocean.
Executioner automatics burst out of the soil, spears in hand, and charged as one towards the Supreme. They came from each direction, their numbers absurd, at least two-hundred of the bastards at a glance. So Esmerelda had decided to send in some small fry, huh?
"Get this weak shit off me!" the Supreme growled, reaching for the emerald wings on his back and tearing them away.
That, at least, stopped him from being sent flying back any further. The wings burst into individual feathers, zooming off into the crowd. Esmerelda himself had vanished as well: he was clearly using the advance of these automatics to conceal his own movements.
Fine. These weaklings weren't what the Supreme had come here for, but getting rid of them wouldn't take long.
He threw a punch -- demolishing the head of one of the Executioners the second it came into range. The air pressure the blow created surged back through the crowd, sending countless more automatics flying off.
Hey, the Supreme grinned, getting into it. I got a strike!
Laughing uproariously, he went to elbow another of the Executioners as it jumped in behind him -- only for the automatic to duck and avoid the blow. The others behind it moved, too, dodging the air pressure like a parting ocean.
The Supreme frowned as the Executioner drove its spear upwards towards his jaw. It didn't pierce the skin, of course, but sparks rained down as the automatic kept its weapon pressed against the same point. The head of the spear was quickly rotating, the Supreme noticed, like a drill.
He saw what they were going for, then. Lots of tiny hits, really quickly, to chip away at his defense.
Another spear slammed into his bare back, sending more sparks raining down. He destroyed that Executioner with a kick, but when he tried to dispatch the next one coming in, it simply leapt out of the way. Even as they were avoiding his attacks, more and more Executioners were coming in, driving their spears into his form, slowly wearing him down.
The Supreme calmly considered his predicament. It wasn't that these things were fast. They simply dodged before he started moving. In both cases, he'd managed to destroy one of the Executioners before the rest started dodging.
Some kind of hive mind? The whole adapting to whatever took out the individual? Whatever. If that was the case, all it came down to was a chance to show off.
He had more tricks than punches and kicks, after all. The Supreme grinned.
"Excel Surge," he declared. "Earthsculpt Uriel!"
The ground beneath him -- and all around him -- shifted, forming countless solid spikes that impaled the Executioners in the immediate area. Ten or twenty met their ends, twitching weakly as they were held aloft by the earth itself. The rest, though, just began swinging off the spikes as they continued to advance, adapting to the tactic.
The Supreme's eyes flicked around. "Excel Surge," he commanded. "Sunscorch Gabriel."
An invisible lens, hanging in the air above the Supreme, filtering the sunlight coming down and amplifying it until it was a wave of deadly heat. The Executioners around him moved to dodge backwards -- but too late. Within seconds, their metal bodies were melting, cybernetic innards oozing out of the mess. The Supreme himself was subject to the same intense heat, but he remained unharmed, even as the grass ignited beneath his feet.
Still, he continued to look around cautiously. With Gabriel, he'd created a perimeter around himself that the Executioners could not enter. They surrounded him from all sides, staring blankly. No doubt they'd switch tactics before long, and figure out a way around this, but until then he still had time to think.
Esmerelda had completely vanished. Most likely, he'd concealed himself within the crowd of automatics, waiting for his chance.
It was a good plan: even if the Supreme unleashed an attack that destroyed all the Executioners at once, by doing so an opening would be created for just a moment. All Esmeralda had to do was wait.
The Supreme cracked his fingers irritably. He hadn't come here to play with toy soldiers. He'd come to feel his heart beat, to feel his blood pump, to feel his brain come alight with the survival drive.
You are strong, right, Zack? he narrowed his eyes. Don't tell me you need to do shit like this.
The Supreme shook his head lightly, banishing the unthinkable -- that this fight would just be another disappointment. It was no biggie. This guy just didn't get it yet. He didn't get this wasn't the kind of fight the Supreme wanted.
There'd be no point in explaining it to him. The Supreme was better off demonstrating.
While he was using this supercharged Sunscorch Gabriel, he couldn't use any other techniques from Badge of Honour. But that didn't mean he couldn't use any other techniques at all. He took a deep breath, and his golden Aether crackled around him.
Aether ping.
The Supreme restrained the range of his ping slightly -- he didn't want to go too crazy -- limiting it to a diameter of around fifty kilometers. As the wave of golden Aether reached that distance, he pulled it back into his body, then released it again. He repeated the process several times, increasing the speed with each revolution, until his ping was blasting out and retracting several times a second.
A heartbeat scanning the world.
It only took a second for the Supreme to find what he was looking for. The distinctive shape of those green wings -- and more than that, the Aether coating the body they were attached to. The Supreme recognised the texture of Esmeralda's Aether well, like sand crumbling against inspection. There was no mistaking it.
"Excel Surge," he muttered, locking his gaze in the direction of his unseen adversary. "Earthsculpt Uriel."
The original Earthsculpt Uriel had granted its user the ability to manipulate the earth in several preset ways. However, once optimized by Excel Surge, it was a different beast entirely. The Supreme could freely sculpt the ground around him for several kilometers, as if it were putty in his hands. All it took was the intent.
As the barrier of heat vanished, the Supreme opened up massive pits beneath the waiting Executioners -- sending them hurtling down into the dark bowels of the planet. At the same time, he softened the platform he was standing on, granting it greater elasticity as it tilted in the direction of his target -- and then, like a child with a trampoline, he launched himself off it.
It took him only a second to reach his target. Almost in the same instant he'd thrown himself forward, the Supreme ground his leg into the earth to brake. Those emerald wings filled his vision as he pulled his fist back…
…and then he hesitated.
That's not Esmerelda.
Those green wings were spread wide, yes -- but they were attached to just another one of the Executioner automatics, green Aether crackling up and down its form. It thrust its spear at the Supreme's face, and he quickly caught it in his teeth, shattering the polearm with the slightest bite.
It was obvious what Esmerelda had done. He had attached the wings of Heartbeat Freedom to an Executioner so it would serve as a decoy, then infused the automatic with his own Aether to fool the Supreme's ping. Once he'd done that, he'd most likely cloaked himself, keeping himself hidden while the Supreme pursued the dummy target.
The Supreme grinned, eyes narrowing in glee as he swung his head around -- to watch as Esmerelda darted in from between chunks of flying debris. His gaze was resolute, and his Aether was crackling around his palms once more.
Good, the Supreme thought. You're so good, Esmeralda. Just like that.
Esmerelda lunged forward -- taking full advantage of the opening his little maneuver had created -- and planted his hands against the Supreme's chest.
"Heartbeat Shotgun," said Zachariah Esmeralda.
From such close range, and boosted by Heartbeat Freedom, it was something to behold. The landscape behind the Supreme exploded, chunks of stone and soil flying up into the air. The man himself -- for the first time in many years -- was forced to cough, and it was with delight that he saw blood come out with it.
That's it, Zack, the Supreme sighed with pleasure, looking down at the red dripping from his palm. Don't bore me. Don't you dare fucking bore me.
A second flurry of Heartbeat Shotguns hit the Supreme from behind -- originating from the wings, now detached from the Executioner -- and the blow was enough to send him flying forwards towards Esmerelda. This, too, had been part of Zachariah's plan. As the Supreme fell forward, the rebel thrust his metal fist forward, pouring a borealis of emerald Aether into it.
The Supreme's eyes rolled up into his head. Do it…
That punch would have been enough to vaporize an ordinary person -- but as it slammed into the Supreme's face, propelled by a Shotgun from Esmeralda's elbow, all it managed to do was shatter his nose. Even so, to bloody the nose of a god was no small accomplishment. A wild grin of exhilaration spread across Zachariah Esmeralda's lips as he ground his fist in further.
Yes. Yes, good. He was getting into it too.
The Supreme swung his hand up, sculpting the earth once more -- sending a surge of spikes towards Esmerelda. The man jumped back, barely avoiding the barrage, before twisting in the air to dodge a hand of stone that was closing in around him.
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"Yeah! Yeah!" the Supreme roared, flicking his hand back and forth as he softened the ground beneath him.
It was best to make it as easily traversable as possible. The Supreme had abilities that would allow him to fly, but he didn't want to waste one of his slots on them. For the time being, he'd remain on the ground, even as Esmeralda soared.
The feathered wings had zoomed past the Supreme, reattaching to Esmerelda's back as he flew through the sky. With a mighty flap, he unleashed a gust of wind, extinguishing the flames that Sunscorch Gabriel had ignited earlier. For a brief moment, the two of them faced off, staring each other down.
"Is it good for you too?" the Supreme asked, cracking his neck.
Esmerelda scowled. "There's nothing fun about this."
"What?" the Supreme frowned.
Esmerelda did not answer. Instead, he launched off the air again, zooming directly towards the Supreme. As he flew, some of the feathers on his wings moved into his hands, forming a blade that the green man drew back.
The Supreme considered the weapon: no doubt it would unleash a blast or blade of sound at the moment it made contact. No problem. There were countermeasures for such an attack.
Taking a deep breath, the Supreme spoke aloud: "Excel Surge! Heartbeat --"
He didn't get the chance to finish. Before that last word could leave his mouth, there was a sudden bang from below, a sudden spike of pain, and a sudden flash of red. Blood splattered past the Supreme's vision, and with it… his severed tongue, flipping end over end in the air.
The Supreme blinked, thinking things through even as Esmeralda continued to lunge forwards. That attack had come from below -- not just below the Supreme's line of sight, but below the ground itself. He understood. Esmerelda had waited for him to soften the ground, then sent a single feather down into it to launch a surprise attack. Using himself as a decoy, he'd managed to provoke the Supreme into exposing his tongue -- once that was destroyed, he couldn't use his abilities.
His grin, stained by blood, widened into the realm of derangement.
Not bad, kid.
The blade slammed into him.
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Skipper's heart hammered a mile a minute, and he poured each one of those beats into his sword.
Torso. Shoulder. Head. Back. As Skipper flipped over the Supreme, doing his best to stay out of reach, he struck out again and again -- each strike accompanied by a screech as a Heartbeat Bayonet was unleashed from his feathered sword. Each time he hit the Supreme, he left a thin red gash -- superficial wounds, but now that the Supreme couldn't heal them they would accumulate.
That didn't mean he could relax, though.
As the Supreme thrust one hand upwards, a pillar of earth erupted from the ground below Skipper -- hitting him in the stomach and sending him flying up into the sky. As the construct pushed him aloft, Skipper fired another Heartbeat Shotgun from his stomach, shattering the pillar -- but the Supreme had already gotten the distance he'd been looking for.
Skipper had sealed off Excel Surge and Badge of Honour with that last trick, but that didn't mean the Supreme was neutralized. Far from it. From the looks of things, he still had access to the last ability he'd used -- Earthsculpt Uriel -- and his ordinary Aether abilities were enough to put him far above the rest.
If Skipper got careless, he would die. That fact hadn't changed.
As the Supreme looked up to follow his movements, Skipper pointed both his wings downwards, the feathered structures twisting into thin tendrils -- far easier to aim with. He wouldn't be able to get in another precise shot from this distance. His best move would be to unleash a barrage.
Keep him on the defensive. Don't give him time to strategize.
Heartbeat Shotgun!
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As the Supreme sprinted, weaving through the countless blasts of sounds and the horde of automatics still pursuing him, he considered his next move.
He'd long considered one of his greatest strengths to be his versatility -- his Badge of Honour gave him countless tools to deal with any problem that presented itself. Now that he'd been silenced, though, those countless tools had been reduced to just one: Earthsculpt Uriel. Fortunately, he'd used Excel Surge on it before getting his tongue cut off, so it was still pretty flexible. He just had to figure out how best to use it here.
An idea occurred as he ducked under the swing of a spear.
Once, back in the Death March at the beginning of his reign, he had visited a planet called Retsuede. On that planet, there had been a great mountain -- complex tunnels bored through it through time and coincidence -- and on particularly windy days, the mountain would sing as the air blasted through it. The people there had even learned to manipulate the sounds the mountain made by altering the structures of those tunnels.
The Supreme bobbed and weaved as another Executioner kicked at him, before obliterating it and the ten or so behind it with a flurry of punches. As another barrage of Heartbeat Shotguns rained down from above, he snatched a chunk of metal from the wreckage, infusing it and holding it up as a shield.
One second. Two seconds. Three. The barrage stopped: Esmerelda didn't want to kick up too much dust, or else the Supreme could use it as a smokescreen. Good to know.
The second the barrage ended, the Supreme hurled the metal plating like a frisbee, the projectile slicing apart every Executioner in its path. He paid no mind to them as their bodies fell apart, or as even more converged upon him. Right now, the entirety of his consciousness was focused on the conundrum before him.
This was what he lived for. This was what he killed for.
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This ain't working.
Sweat ran down Skipper's temples as he saw the Supreme burst out, unharmed, from another one of his attacks. It seemed that only precise Heartbeat Shotguns or Heartbeat Bayonets would be enough to actually break through that iron skin and deal damage. Wide-range attacks like these -- especially from such a distance -- gave him too much time to react.
For what it was worth, though, the Supreme's attention didn't seem to be on Skipper. He was running down the mountain, face locked into stoicity, kicking up geysers of dirt with each step. He was holding something in one hand, but Skipper couldn't make it out from this distance.
It was no surprise that the Supreme had something planned. The man was a brute, but that didn't mean he was stupid. Was it maybe a clump of dirt he was holding, and he intended to use Uriel to sculpt it into a weapon?
Skipper would have to be careful.
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The Supreme was considered one of the foremost talents when it came to Aether pings. Sure, he could be fooled by cloaking like anyone else, but in terms of range he was unmatched -- he could scan a good chunk of a planet from orbit, for Y's sake.
With just a single ping, he could get an incredibly accurate image of the location he was scanning. It was what they'd used to put together the battle plan for today.
This time, though, the Supreme took a different tack. He let loose an Aether ping… within his own body. It took just a second, and was utterly invisible from the outside, but through it he was able to get a full reading of his own physical form -- down to his organs and individual muscles. He smirked as he ran through the information in his head.
This would work.
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As Skipper plummeted down towards the ground, pursuing the Supreme, he released his wings -- and the feathers flew off individually, burrowing into the soft ground as they chased Skipper's target from below.
Just like he'd done when he'd severed the Supreme's tongue, he'd position the feathers to unleash precise shots from underground. That way, he could get some sneak attacks in while the Supreme was focused on him. He might expect a similar tactic, but hopefully the increased number of feathers would throw him for a loop.
Skipper blasted himself down the mountain with Heartbeat Shotgun, soaring over the heads of his Executioners, drawing closer to the Supreme with each successive blast. The Supreme himself was sliding down the mountain trail, having softened and slickened the ground to the point there was virtually no friction -- and as Skipper watched, the giant seemed intently focused on whatever he was hiding in his hands.
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The Supreme discarded the things he didn't need. Arms and legs, lower torso, all of it useless. Only the parts needed for this specific task needed to remain in his mind.
A tunnel waiting for its wind.
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The feathers began blasting from below, sending the chunk of earth the Supreme was sliding on flying up into the air. The Supreme himself curled into a ball as he flipped through the sky -- and Skipper fired himself up towards him, ready to unleash another Heartbeat Bayonet before he could land.
He'd do it from as close as he could without being stupid -- this time, he'd get the Supreme's eyes.
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For the first time in a good long while, sweat ran down the Supreme's back. He ignored the fact he was falling. He didn't have time to do anything about it. The only thing that mattered was the lump of earth he held in his hands, and the shape he was slowly forging it into, down to the slightest minutia.
Lips.
Tongue.
Lungs.
The Supreme blinked.
Done.
----------------------------------------
Heartbeat --
The Supreme twisted his body in the air, and Skipper immediately moved to retreat. The confidence that had slowly been building up over the last few minutes utterly vanished. He’d been foolish: there was no safe distance when it came to the Supreme.
So long as you were on the same planet as the man who was like god, you were at an unsafe distance. And his power certainly wasn't the kind you could seal.
It was like the head of a statue, the thing the Supreme held, a perfect replica of his own head sculpted from dirt. Stone lungs dangled below the throat, divorced from the torso that would have ordinarily surrounded it, and the mouth of the construct was just slightly open -- frozen into an eternal expression of just slight surprise.
Heartbeat Shotgun.
Get back, he urged himself as he retreated, blasting himself backwards.
Heartbeat Shotgun.
Faster.
Heartbeat Shotgun.
You're gonna die, asshole!
There was the slightest opening in the back of the construct's head, and the Supreme put his lips to it. Like a flute, he blew into the open skull of his decapitated doppelganger -- but the sound that came forth, initially just a single long note, shifted and warped and solidified…
…until it became words.
"eXcEl SuRgE," it said. "sEaL oF fOrTuNe: ShAnGrI-lA."
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The original Shangri-la had been a splendid ability all by itself, but when paired with Excel Surge it gained far greater flexibility. Rather than the fixed circular area the original user had been capable of, the Supreme had found he could sculpt it into whatever shape he liked.
For example, he could shape it into the exact dimensions of his own body. No need to spread the healing too far around.
It took only half a second for his tongue to return -- a smaller area increased the potency of the healing -- and in that same moment, he thrust his open palm towards the retreating Esmeralda.
"Excel Surge," he said softly. "Heartbeat Shotgun."
The blast that erupted forth wasn't nearly as soft. With his other hand, the Supreme crushed the construct of dirt, chunks of sculpted face raining down as he landed on the ground. Spreading his arms wide, he took a deep breath, his new tongue waggling in the air -- taking it all in, without concern for dignity or decorum.
This was it. This was how it felt to be alive again.
Calming down just a bit, the Supreme looked over to Skipper -- to where he'd been embedded in the mountain, his body having blasted through a good swathe of his own Executioners. Even from this distance, the Supreme could see the blood covering his face -- he was hurt… but he wasn't dead. Good, good. The Supreme wanted this to last.
He'd just woken up, after all.