As the Supreme flexed his muscles, basking in his restoration, his body shone in the sunlight. He spread his arms wide, as if drinking it in, as if that havoc-pink light was somehow giving him even more strength.
Skipper just looked on from where he'd been thrown into the mountain, his eyes dull. Every single wound he'd inflicted on the Supreme -- down to the tiniest scratches -- had utterly vanished. The great leap he thought he'd taken in removing the Supreme's tongue might as well have not even happened.
"And again…" the Supreme grinned easily, the dark bags under his eyes a stark contrast to the sparkling blue of his pupils. "...back to starting positions."
Skipper tried to pull himself out of the mountain -- but as he did, the Supreme simply pointed a merciless finger at him.
"Excel Surge," he said casually. "Quantum King."
Skipper himself was protected by infusion -- but the debris covering his body was not. Quantum King pushed on the rocks, driving Skipper deeper and deeper into the side of the mountain, more dust and rocks spilling over him as he screamed in pain from the pressure.
As the horde of Executioners -- there were still quite a few left -- charged at the Supreme, though, the giant released his ability for just a moment. Lowering his finger, he cracked his neck -- the automatics nearly upon him.
"I said back to starting positions," the Supreme sighed. "But these guys are getting in the way. I wanna talk to you for a bit, so gimme a sec here."
Skipper did his best to push himself forward. The Executioners were one of the few resources he could rely on in this battle -- if they were destroyed, he'd lose both his reinforcements and his smokescreen. But even as he pushed, and even as he strained, and even as he tunneled with Heartbeat Shotgun, he just wasn't quite fast enough.
The Supreme grinned that lazy grin.
"Excel Surge -- Kingdom Come."
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That guy Lho Rho had been strong -- even the Supreme had to admit that. He'd been surprised when he'd been defeated by that Paradigm chick, but those kinds of things happened. Maybe her ability had just been a good counter to Kingdom Come, he'd thought.
Then again, though… he couldn't imagine an ability that could easily counter Kingdom Come.
The ability was near perfection already, so all Excel Surge provided was a small boost to its range and precision -- but still, that would suffice. He had to admit, Esmeralda had pushed him with that last little maneuver… but the way he'd gotten out of it was now filling his head with new ideas. He was waking up again. He was alive again.
The only thing spoiling it was that thing Zachariah Esmeralda had said.
"There's nothing fun about this."
The Supreme didn't mind maniacs, and brutes were beloved to him, but he didn't hold stock with liars. He needed to make sure they were on the same page before this went any further. It was important in a situation like this for people to understand each other.
…and these damn automatics were getting in the way of that.
Kingdom Come reached out, seizing hold of all the dust in the area, and collected it into a sphere before the Supreme. It was pretty small, around the size of a cannonball, but heavy and dense enough that it could annihilate a skull if dropped. The Supreme tossed it up and down in his hand like a basketball, the Executioners nearly upon him.
He'd made use of the increased precision here, prioritizing dust derived from hair and dead skin. As he slammed the ball down into the ground, it exploded once again into a tidal wave of dust, flooding over and attaching itself to the countless automatics.
Step one complete.
"Excel Surge," the Supreme said, stepping out of the way of a spear swing. "Seal of Fortune -- Shangri-la."
When he'd focused the shape of the Seal onto his own body, the speed of the healing had been greatly increased. He wondered, then -- how much further could he take that? This ability might have far greater potential than he'd initially realized.
For example… what if he made the Seal a mere centimeter thick, and had it swing around as a long thin beam?
Well… he grinned. Only one way to find out.
The golden light of Shangri-la appeared before him, immediately crushed and extended itself into the shape he desired -- and he swept the beam across the crowd of automatics. Obviously, it had no effect on the machines themselves. You couldn't 'heal' metal and wire, after all.
But what about the dust coating them?
The result was grotesque -- a web of indiscriminate flesh and hair, stretching between the automatics, connecting all of them together. You couldn't really say that the dust had been 'regenerated', but Shangri-la had done its best. An entirely new organism had been created to fill in the gaps -- and then, lacking even the most basic qualifications for life, it had immediately died.
But that was fine. The fact that it had left a corpse was more than enough.
Step two complete.
The Supreme reached out and seized hold of the flesh-strand before him, crushing the dull eyeball that had been protruding from that spot in the process. The Executioners were tangled up, but they were still doing their best like good little machines -- driving their drill-spears into the Supreme's body and sending sparks raining down. That was fine, he could handle that.
Right now, he was more interested in seeing how this worked out.
"Excel Surge…" he growled. "Electric Advent Venrir."
Ordinarily, this ability would create a powerful familiar out of lightning and send it after the Supreme's enemies -- but strictly speaking, the part of the ability where he formed the body of Venrir wasn't necessary. He could just produce the lightning and stop there.
And in this case, that was exactly what he needed.
Step three… he grinned. …complete.
Bang.
The lightning erupted from the Supreme's hand -- and, conducted by the web of flesh, fried the circuits of every single Executioner. Their smooth movements hardened into rapid and directionless jerking as they collapsed to the ground, sparks and flames belching from their heads, the charred flesh falling over them like a collective burial shroud.
The Supreme released the single strand he'd still been clutching and wiped the soot off on his pants. Then, sufficiently satisfied that the dirt had been transferred from his hand to his ass, he looked up at ol' Esmerelda.
Poor guy had only just managed to get himself out of the rocks, and the despair in his eyes was clear as he looked at the hill of metal corpses the two of them were standing on.
"So!" the Supreme said, cheery as could be. "Let's talk."
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Avaman the Announcer, First Contender of the Supremacy, had a deathly fear of dolls.
Pediophobia, it was called. It wasn’t necessarily limited just to dolls -- really, any inanimate object that resembled a human -- but for Avaman, they were the worst. Just looking at their glassy eyes and frozen expressions made his skin crawl. Like corpses built for purpose. Even thinking about them made him intensely uncomfortable.
Which was why the bobblehead on the dash of this damn starship was bothering him so much.
He’d only noticed it in the last couple of minutes, a cartoon caricature of a man in a blue parka, its head wobbling up and down with each shake of the starship. Normally, a degree of abstraction would be enough to make it palatable, but…
Whirlwind Rapier.
The head of the accursed thing was obliterated by a sudden and precise strike of infused air, and Avaman could finally breathe easy.
Once, when he'd been a child, his keepers had brought him a doll along with other toys to aid in his recreational development. The exercise had ended up with Avaman vomiting all over the head researcher's lap, and he hadn't slept for days. At this point, he could somewhat conceal his reaction to the wretched things… but it was still far easier to destroy them than live with them.
The ship shuddered and shook around him, buffeted by pressure as it dropped through the atmosphere of Elysian Fields. Avaman already knew that this vessel would not survive the descent. That didn't matter. He would.
Danger.
Purple Aether sparked around his eyes as he felt a threat approaching through the air -- a second before it would have actually hit. Something massive was slicing through the sky -- sword-shaped, but so thin as to be impractical. The product of an Aether ability, no doubt. Again, it didn't matter. So long as he knew an attack was coming, it stood no chance of killing him.
All this meant was that this ship would be destroyed sooner than expected.
Avaman projected a membrane of air around himself -- and at that same moment, the starship was cleanly sliced in two. The dull metal of the vessel opened up, revealing the scorched forests and ruined grasslands of the world below. Avaman kicked downwards, blasting air out for propulsion as he plummeted down towards the planet proper, his air shield automatically insulating him against any threats.
That strike had clearly been aimed for Avaman himself -- and so it meant that someone had seen him coming. Where had they gotten that information? Avaman hadn't checked in on what was left of the Tartarus, so clearly not there. Had some Aether ability detected his approach?
Still, still, still, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Avaman reached God.
It was certain that He'd be fighting nearby. This was the battle that He had longed for, after all, the battle that Avaman had never been able to give Him -- no matter how hard he tried. He'd be somewhere, facing off against the man called Skipper, demonstrating the power and fury of the Supreme.
Before he hit the ground, Avaman elegantly shifted his body in mid-air -- and a sphere of surging wind materialized under his feet, keeping him aloft. He came to a halt right above the stumps of the countless trees, eyes flicking this way and that, trying to determine the best direction to head in.
He could fly higher in the sky, but a greater altitude would mean less air to work with. He'd stick close to the ground when pursuing God, then, and deal with any threats that presented themselves.
It didn't take long.
As Avaman flew forwards through the forest clearing, there were three surges of pure-white Aether -- and three boulders appeared in the air above him, each the size of a car. Immediately, Avaman struck upwards with Whirlwind Rapier -- obliterating the rocks before they could fall -- but that… of course, that opened him up for cowardly retaliation.
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Direwolf… Set!
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A streak of red burst out from the ruined foliage, heading straight for Avaman's face -- and in the instant before it hit, he parried with Whirlwind Greatsword, deflecting the attack and creating a huge gash in the ground below. Avaman raised a concealed eyebrow behind his mask as his assailant fell down to the ground. He'd assumed from the speed that this was some kind of projectile, but it seemed this young lady was just that fast.
"Ruth Blaine." His voice was cold, concealed by his mask as well.
The girl picked herself up off the ground, baring her teeth and claws at Avaman even after being repelled so violently. Her armour seemed different from the intelligence Avaman had previously received -- melted, malformed, as if stuck between one shape and the next. Impractical, to put it charitably.
She didn't say anything, so Avaman continued speaking: "Where is Skipper?"
She was one of Esmeralda's disciples -- if anyone knew where he was, it would be her. Wherever Skipper was, God would be. He couldn't kill her until he'd extracted that important intelligence.
But… oh, how he longed to. What kind of tormented expression would Skipper make, if presented with such a corpse? If shown the depths of his arrogance, and of his sin?
No. He would wait. He was used to waiting.
"I would rather not torture you," he lied. "But I will. Where is Skipper?"
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Still, the girl said nothing. She just continued to glare, her golden eyes gleaming in the fading sunlight. Avaman rolled his eyes behind his mask: he disliked unfounded resolve.
He would take her legs, then, to show her he was serious. Perhaps some useful words would slip in between her screams.
"Whirlwind…" he began, giving Blaine one last chance -- before he cut himself off with another sigh.
A surprise attack. How utterly expected.
With another flash of white Aether, Yakob del Sed appeared in the air behind Avaman, an imaginary blade raised above their head like they were some kind of battle-mime. He could sense the shape of that invisible sword by the way it cut through the air membrane -- it was the same as the one that had sliced his ship in half, only much smaller.
Boulders suddenly appearing out of thin air, and a sword that cut through the sky? Avaman suspected the trick here.
Just before that all-slicing sword came down, Avaman raised his hand…
…and caught it.
He hadn't just used his bare hand, of course. He'd formed a bubble of air right above his palm and infused it with considerable Aether -- enough to reject the atomically thin blade descending upon it. Yakob pushed furiously against his defense for a moment, sparks raining down, before the bubble popped -- and sent them flying backwards from the impact.
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At the moment, Ruth could barely manage the Direwolf Set for a second at a time -- and even then, it had to be focused on a particular part of her body. Even so, if that was all she had to work with, then she'd damn well work with it.
Direwolf Set!
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There was another flash of red Aether -- and Ruth Blaine vanished from the spot she'd fallen. Avaman understood already that this was superspeed, not teleportation, but she’d left his vision all the same.
It was nothing. Even if she left his gaze behind, she couldn't abandon the air. It traced her path without fail.
Avaman pointed a lazy finger off in a vague direction. It didn't matter where he pointed -- his shots would strike true. That was the nature of his ability.
Whirlwind Crossbow.
Three bolts of concentrated air fired out through his finger and immediately turned at a sharp angle to pursue Blaine through the trees. Unlike Skipper's pathetic Heartbeat Shotgun, Avaman's Whirlwind Crossbow pursued its target until it either struck or was destroyed.
Two of the blasts struck trees that Blaine dodged behind, cleanly severing their trunks, but the third slammed into her chest as she lost her speed boost, sending her tumbling down, vanishing into the darkness of the woods. Yakob del Sed had leapt back into battle behind Avaman, but so far a few automatic swipes of wind had been enough to keep them at bay. Avaman hadn't even needed to glance in their direction.
A gust of wind blasted Yakob in Avaman's direction -- and, with contemptuous ease, he reached out and seized them by the throat.
Violet Aether sparked around Yakob's hands, but a squeeze from Avaman was enough to put an end to that effort. They could only flail their legs in the air as they were held aloft, desperately grasping at their throat just to relieve the pressure a bit. He had them at his mercy.
“Ruth Blaine. Come out of those woods with your hands up. If you don’t, I kill them. You have three seconds.”
Avaman stared off into the dark recess between the trees, air broiling around him, keeping tight hold of Yakob del Sed’s throat. He had no fear that this tactic wouldn’t work. Ruth Blaine's personality was clear -- she could no more abandon her comrades than she could abandon breathing.
Crack.
A foot touching down on a stick as its owner approached. Just as expected. Avaman smiled softly to himself --
-- and then snapped his head up as a flurry of white flashes consumed the sky above him, countless more boulders appearing there, falling with deadly weight and speed.
Whirlwind Rapier!
Finger pointed up into the air, Avaman struck the boulders one after another, the endless stream of falling rocks shattering into rubble that bounced off his shield. As his focus was diverted, however, Yakob del Sed was able to kick against Avaman's chest and free themself, plucking two more invisible swords from the air. Avaman thrust his free hand towards del Sed before they could attack again, creating a gust of wind that blasted them away.
Blaine's Aether was red and del Sed's was violet -- or perhaps purple, the difference was subtle. Still, that meant that this white Aether dropping the rocks belonged to a third attacker. Where were they? Avaman hadn't sensed them through the air. They couldn't possibly be that far away if they were targeting his exact location.
It seemed they didn't want to give him a chance to think about it.
Ruth Blaine appeared behind him once more, a trail of smoking footprints created by her sheer speed -- and plunged her claws towards his spine. It would be difficult to deal with such a fast opponent while deflecting the rain of boulders. Avaman would need to readjust.
Whirlwind Fortress.
The membrane of air Avaman had created around himself hardened to its absolute limit, sealing him off entirely from the outside world. Blaine's claws shattered against it like they had struck solid steel. The boulders smashed against it like they had struck a castle wall. The only downside to Whirlwind Fortress was that it was an absolute seal -- if Avaman used it for an extended period of time, he would run out of air within the bubble and surely suffocate.
Fortunately, he only needed to use it for a moment here.
Avaman released Whirlwind Fortress, and the membrane of air exploded into a burst of wind that blasted out in all directions. Ruth and Yakob went flying backwards, the course of the falling rocks was diverted -- and, most importantly, that wind was infused with Avaman's Aether, scanning everything the attack came into contact with…
…so, in effect, an Aether ping that doubled as an attack.
Avaman was looking for something in particular: tiny, but extremely dense sources of Aether. Whenever those boulders appeared, they'd been accompanied by a burst of pressure that had shook the trees around them. He'd seen something like that before.
When he'd made his debut as a Contender at the age of ten, and helped God vanquish the Kingdom Moon Cult, he'd fought one of their followers that had been able to shrink parts of their own body. When the shrinking had reversed, there had been a similar blast of pressure. Apparently, it was something common to shrinking abilities.
There.
Right on the edge of his ping, Avaman found what he'd been looking for. The tiniest star of Aether, with a texture unlike those of Blaine and del Sed. Avaman turned his head, staring at the exact spot of the response, and knew that his prey could see him.
His face twisted into an unseen and sadistic grin. "Found you," he rasped, pointing a single killer finger.
White Aether flashed, and empty space was replaced by the user of the ability -- a kid in a flat cap and little suit, antler nubs protruding from the sides of his head. His teeth chattered as he stared at Avaman, terrified.
Avaman’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he hesitated for a moment. A child? They'd brought a kid here? The Whirlwind Crossbow he’d been about to launch from his finger lingered there, unfired.
Well… he supposed it would be beneath him to slay a mere child.
He let the boy off easy with the flat side of his Whirlwind Greatsword, slamming him against a nearby tree. He slumped down to the ground, eyes falling shut into unconsciousness. No doubt that would teach him a valuable lesson about his foolish actions.
With that handled, Avaman turned his attention to his other two opponents. Since he'd sent Blaine and del Sed flying off, they'd concealed themselves in the forest, no doubt waiting for an opening they could take advantage of.
Avaman sighed. Such busywork. Well, if that was how they wanted to do things… he had no problems hunting them down.
With a blast of air from his feet, Avaman launched himself into the darkness of the woods -- and the games began.
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"So!" said the Supreme, that sickening grin covering his face. "Let's talk!"
Every single Executioner lay on the ground, utterly ruined by the incomprehensible move the Supreme had just pulled off. Skipper had known the man wasn't stupid, of course, but he'd assumed he'd only have to really deal with one ability at a time. He'd underestimated the insane shit the man could pull off with combinations of those abilities.
Now he'd lost one of his biggest resources. He'd been under no illusions that the Executioners could actually kill the Supreme, but the distraction and cover they'd provided had been invaluable. Now he was on his own. Now he had the undivided attention of the man who was like god.
Skipper wheezed, wiping some of the blood from his face with a shaking hand. Being pushed into that mountain had really done a number on him. No doubt he needed medical attention. He wouldn't get any.
"I got nothing to talk about with you," he whispered, voice tempered by Aether, knowing the Supreme would hear him all the same.
The Supreme's grin didn't fade. Skipper could see it clearly, even from this distance.
"Sure we do," the Supreme replied cheerily, his voice echoing over the mountainside. "You said something that worried me earlier, Esmerelda --"
"It's Skipper."
"Whatever. Anyway, you said something that worried me. You said you weren't having fun. What's up, man? Something wrong? Let's clear this up before we keep going, Zack."
Skipper's blood boiled. Every single word the Supreme had just said was utterly genuine -- he really was concerned that Skipper wasn't enjoying this. Maniac. Monster. This was all just a game to him, a fun diversion. Did he understand how many people had died to power the blasts he was being struck with?
Still, he needed time to recover. If he could keep the Supreme talking for a little while, that was good.
Skipper rose to his feet as he replied, green wings buzzing in the air behind him. "I'm not like you. I don't do shit like this for the sake of it."
The Supreme laughed heartily, the noise resounding through the devastation. "Oh, come on," he wiped a tear from his eye as the laughter trailed off. "We both know that ain't true."
"It's the truth," Skipper insisted.
"Oh yeah?" the Supreme smirked, cocking his head. "Then why are we fighting, my man?"
Finally. The rage that Skipper had cultivated over decades spilled out through his mouth, his body shaking as he took a single -- and furious -- step forward.
"Because you're evil," Skipper hissed. "Because you're brutal. Because you're a fucking dictator, because you're the head of a fucking fascist empire, and because you don't even give a fucking shit about any of it! You're nothing! LOOK AT YOU! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT BULLSHIT!"
By the time Skipper finished, he was screaming, his Aether-infused voice tearing apart the ground around him. He panted for breath, saliva falling from his mouth and steaming from the sheer force of his power.
The Supreme stared at him, long and hard, utterly expressionless. His golden light flickered silently around him. The entire world seemed to be holding its breath, awaiting the response of its master.
He sighed.
"Seriously?" he said. "It's some political thing?"
Fury killed despair.
"HEARTBEAT SHOTGUN!" Skipper roared -- launching himself at the Supreme faster than ever before, his emerald Aether tearing through the air.
In the instant before he struck, he heard the Supreme speak…
"That's kinda pissed me off a little."
…and the world ripped itself open.
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Yakob del Sed had returned to their rightful place, their throat clutched in Avaman's hand. Avaman's boot pressed down against the back of Ruth Blaine's head, forcing her face down into the mud. His purple cloak billowed in the wind behind him, a flag for his victory.
It had taken him about a minute to corner and subdue them -- a disgracefully long time. He'd have to eliminate all witnesses to it.
All in good time.
"Speak." Avaman demanded. "Where is Skipper?"
"Fuck… you…"
Even with her face down in the dirt, the resistance in Blaine's voice went unchanged. If nothing else, Avaman had to give her that. Skipper trained his dogs well.
"Why follow a fool like that?" Avaman sneered. "A man defined by failure. He failed before, and he'll fail now. He isn't worth it. He isn't worth your devotion."
"You don't know anything…" Ruth growled.
He pressed her face into the dirt further, snarling as he leaned in. "He isn't worth any of it. Any of this. Why does everyone care so much about that idiot? What does the Supreme see in him? He's nothing. It's not f… it's ridiculous. He's nothing! Nothing at all!"
It was true. It was true! Avaman had been here the whole time. Avaman had been faithful, had accumulated victory after victory, yet had earned not even a glance from God -- and Skipper could just come in, speak a few impotent words, and earn His undivided attention?!
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!
"You've been wounded," Avaman observed, voice warped as his volume overpowered the modulator. "It'd be the simplest thing in the world to slip some air in through your cuts, hook it under your skin, and flay you here and now." He narrowed his eyes. "Where. Is. Skipper?"
Silence. Well… threats had to be followed up on. Avaman raised the finger of his free hand and began guiding the air, spiraling it down towards the scratch on Ruth Blaine's face…
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Lengthwise Guillotine.
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Danger. Imminent death.
Avaman's battle experience screamed at him from the back of his brain, and he immediately released his quarry, focusing instead on defense. Whirlwind Fortress was erected around him, just barely managing to deflect the attack that had been heading for his midsection.
He hadn't been the only target. The attack had sliced through the entire forest, severing through every single tree in the area and sending them falling down onto the ground. Ruth Blaine had only been saved because she'd been down on the floor, and Yakob del Sed had only been saved because they'd been held up in the air.
Anything unprotected would have been sliced through like butter. It was an attack that Avaman recognised. It was a technique that Avaman recognised. More than anything… the length of string that had fallen down to the ground… that Avaman recognised most of all.
Gritting his teeth, Avaman looked up -- and saw that damnable man standing aloft on a floating ball of string. Rainbow Aether crackled around him. His long black hair billowed in the wind. As per usual, he was wearing an ensemble that disgraced his office: a pair of baggy shorts and an open jacket, his bare chest visible beneath it.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Wu Ming?"
The First Contender glared up at the Fourth.
“Yo, Avaman!” Wu Ming raised a casual hand, grinning cheekily. “I’ve been mulling some stuff over and, uh, yeah… think I’m gonna turn traitor. That cool with you, my best friend?”
Avaman's eye twitched.