Ba…
The world drew breath, rubble and smoke and air flowing into a single point -- around the man that was like God. No, around the sword held in his hand. No, around the tip of that sword, the very very point. The accuracy was automatic and absolute.
All things collected there. All things were accepted there.
…dum.
And all things, in turn, were expelled.
Every force that the miracle sword, EIN SOF, had drawn in was pushed back out -- amplified to its utmost. The breeze became a cannon. The creak of stone became a flurry of hammer blows. The light became a blinding wave. Everything was brought to its utmost potential as it was released from EIN SOF.
The enhanced forces rampaged across the landscape, turning what was already a ruin into something unrecognizable as formerly possessing structure. Skipper went flying away, powerless before the indiscriminate power that blasted out from the blade. As he flew, though, as he fought, as he suffered, he considered.
Capture, amplification, and release… the same kind of ability as Heartbeat Shotgun.
Ba…
This was not a heart that beat just once, however.
…dum.
The forces, already enhanced, were pulled back into the blade -- and then they were enhanced again, their strength incomparable to each previous iteration. The cannon became a missile. The blows of the hammer became strikes of meteors. The blinding wave became a wall of white flame.
Again, the landscape was brutalized -- but this time Skipper had time enough to retreat. He went as fast as he could, blasting himself with all the strength his Shotguns could muster, and still it was nearly not enough. He barely managed to escape the radius of the attack, and even from that distance the Supreme was little more than a dot.
Ba…
Each time EIN SOF absorbed what it had just released, the attack would grow several times stronger. How many heartbeats until escape was impossible? How many heartbeats until simply touching the wave of force reduced you to mist? How many heartbeats until the planet itself couldn't take it anymore?
How many heartbeats had it taken for Dranell? Skipper didn't know. He hadn't been there.
…dum.
But, judging from this…
This apocalypse. This explosion. This eruption. This upheaval. This devastation. This destruction. This breakage. This calamity. This brutality. This rhapsody. This horror. This power. This end.
…it couldn't have been many.
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As time went on, and Avaman's fury built, he became more and more confident that this was all a dream. Nothing so preposterous could be happening in real life, after all.
As Wu Ming charged at him once more, that ridiculous black blanket whipping around his form, Avaman slammed a brutal Whirlwind Greatsword into his head. It had no effect. It wasn't even that Wu Ming dodged it, like he'd been doing before -- the blow had landed, and it had simply been useless.
This new ability Wu Ming had unveiled -- this Ha-Satan Set or whatever -- clearly possessed some kind of secret. Ruth Blaine's Skeletal Set had boosted her strength and speed, and Avaman could sense some of that principle in Ha-Satan, but at the same it felt like there was more. The idiot who called himself Wu Ming wasn't one for simplicity, after all.
There'd be a gimmick here.
Speaking of Ruth Blaine…
As Avaman launched himself upwards to avoid Wu Ming's charge, Blaine pounced on him, her steel claws bared and aimed for his face. Whirlwind Nail. Before she could even get close, Avaman detonated the air between the two of them -- sending them flying in opposite directions. The winds seized hold of Avaman as he flew, granting him grace and maneuverability, but Blaine simply plummeted down towards the ground in an undignified heap.
If only that had been enough to rid himself of such an annoyance. Before Blaine could fall on the ground, she landed on some kind of invisible barrier -- and without missing a beat, kicked off it, launching herself at another barrier, and then kicked off that one, and again, and again, until she too was a blur bouncing through the air.
Those barriers -- no, those shields -- were the work of Yakob del Sed. Unlike Wu Ming and Blaine, del Sed had concealed themselves in the newly lush forest below -- and with his attention divided like this, Avaman didn't have the freedom to locate them. Their barriers weren't so strong that Avaman couldn't break through them, but the additional maneuverability they granted his other opponents made them yet another irritant.
Yes. Avaman gritted his teeth. Annoyances. They pile up and up…
As Avaman flew gracefully through the air, Wu Ming kicked off a tree, heading straight for him. Unlike his younger companion, Wu Ming did not go for a simple punch or kick. Instead, he thrust his hands forward and declared: "Void Flower!"
Avaman's eye twitched.
Another ability? This man's ignorance was such that he was capable of flouting even the most basic principles of Aether. Flexibility like that was reserved only for God. Wu Ming dishonored everything with every aspect of his being.
Strings shot out from Wu Ming's fingers as projectiles, latching onto the arm Avaman used to block. Upon contact, they wrapped together into plant-like structures within seconds, tiny bubbles growing between their 'petals' -- larger and larger with each second.
Avaman was no fool. Immediately, he shredded the protrusions apart with a micro-Whirlwind Greatsword, but as he did so new flowers grew from the scraps, larger and more plentiful. As Avaman blocked Wu Ming's kick with his other hand, he blasted himself away, holding his infested arm at a distance.
What effect did these Void Flowers have? Were they just a nuisance, or was something deeper at work? Some kind of poison in those bubbles, perhaps? Avaman's mind raced, but the answer was simpler than he'd thought.
He understood the instant he reached for another Whirlwind Greatsword and found it far weaker than he'd expected. These Void Flowers were absorbing the air and storing them into those bubbles before Avaman could use it. If nothing else, Wu Ming understood infusion well -- it was exceedingly difficult to control something that was already saturated with someone else's Aether.
With this Void Flower ability, Ming had effectively begun draining away Avaman's ammunition -- but more than that, worse than that. The air around Avaman was being sucked away at a disturbing speed, the bubbles coating his arm becoming horribly plump… how much further would the speed of absorption increase? Would Avaman even be able to breathe in a few minutes time? Did he even have a few minutes?
In a battle such as this, between combatants of their level, bold decisions had to be made at a moment's notice. Destroying the Void Flowers would not work, but there was an alternative method of ridding himself of them. He'd threatened to do it to Ruth Blaine not long ago.
With a small Whirlwind Greatsword, Avaman opened up a thin gash on the underside of his afflicted arm -- and in that same instant, with all the air he still had available to him, he peeled the skin of that arm away in one single mass. Avaman bared his teeth. The pain was excruciating, but he could take it. He could.
The bloody skin fell to the ground, landing as a red puddle. He knew he wouldn't be able to use that arm anymore -- even moving his fingers was agony -- but by degloving himself, he'd successfully peeled away the Void Flowers. All things considered, he was lucky they hadn't hit him in the face.
He wasn't given much in terms of recovery time, either. As Avaman retreated back from Wu Ming, Ruth Blaine leapt off another one of those barriers, clawing at his face as she came into range. A timely dodge and a burst of air repelled her, of course, but it was still too close for comfort.
This was a bad situation. Ordinarily, Blaine and del Sed would be pests he could easily deal with, but with Wu Ming thrown into the mix they were dangerous indeed. He needed to deal with the former Fourth Contender before anything else.
What was the secret of the Ha-Satan Set?
Avaman thought quickly. His Whirlwind Greatsword wasn't the sort of attack that very many could withstand -- and certainly not without any signs of damage or fatigue. However the defense of that stupid blanket worked, there was sure to be a trick to it. A condition that, in exchange for some demerit, gave him protection. Another gimmick.
The first step in any experiment was the procurement of the test subject. That was easy enough.
As Ruth Blaine lunged at him again, a flying ball of claws and steel, Avaman flew above her, leaving his side exposed -- and, just as expected, Wu Ming jumped in for the attack. Battle junkies were a predictable personality type. If you gave them the opportunity for a good hit, they would take it every time.
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Finely controlled Whirlwind Nails rotated Avaman in the air far faster than his own body could manage, and he was facing Wu Ming in an instant. His hand outstretched, he spoke the words again:
"Whirlwind Fortress."
The first time, Wu Ming had been able to smash his way out of this barrier with a punch. The strength he'd demonstrated with that act had been undeniable, but not undefeatable. A punch required a certain level of momentum, of movement, of motion. Avaman would deny him that.
This Whirlwind Fortress was humanoid -- nearly perfectly sculpted to match Wu Ming's body, allowing him movement of only centimeters, barely permitting the twitch of a finger. The amount of air provided to the captive was the same -- it was part of the ability -- but at least this way he couldn't break free so easily.
With a clench of his fist, Avaman compressed the Fortress, crushing force pressing in on every inch of Wu Ming's body. Unsurprisingly, it held up. This Ha-Satan Set really wasn't anything to scoff at. But still… it didn't feel nearly as durable as before. So that was the secret -- the blanket's durability increased only at the point of impact, at the very moment it was hit. When it had to protect the entire body at once, it was much less of a threat.
Ruth Blaine thrust her claws at the back of Avaman's head, but that was no issue. The slightest smirk tugged at his lips.
Whirlwind Fortress.
A second Fortress -- the normal spherical one -- appeared around Avaman, repelling Blaine's attack. He knew for a fact that she didn't have the strength to break through this barrier. Besides, this was quite convenient. Each Whirlwind Fortress contained the same amount of air. Even if his own oxygen supply was limited, it was a fact that Wu Ming would suffocate before him.
Avaman looked his pathetic rival in the eyes and flashed a victorious grin. This was a corpse he'd longed to see for years.
"I win," he hissed --
----------------------------------------
Gemini World.
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-- and a shining blue fist slammed into his face.
"Sorry," said an ownerless voice. "But I've been wanting to punch that face for nearly a year now."
There was a crunch as Avaman's nose was broken by the impact, blood pouring from his nostrils as he staggered backwards -- thumping against the edge of the barrier. What the hell had that been?! By the time he'd even noticed he was being punched, the disembodied arm that had done it had already vanished.
A recorded human body. That had to be it. Avaman had read the files on Skipper's crew and their abilities. This was Dragan Hadrien, the boy who'd only just learnt Aether -- and he'd managed to get a hit in on Avaman?!
Inconceivable. Unforgivable.
"Show yourself, Hadrien!" Avaman roared, stepping forward -- just in time for a vicious kick to collide with the back of his neck.
Attacked at an unexpected angle, Avaman was forced down onto one knee -- but not knocked down, never knocked down. With a snarl, he whirled around, and saw for the briefest instant Dragan Hadrien's ravaged face dissipating back into his electric-blue Aether.
I can see you, boy, Avaman seethed. If I can see you, then I can kill you. Whirlwind Rapier!
…
But nothing happened.
Avaman blinked.
"Eh?"
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…dum.
It took everything he had for Skipper to stop himself from being blown away. He fired backwards with Heartbeat Shotguns from his entire body, no doubt causing internal damage, and even that only slowed him down. Wave after wave of force slammed into him as he held as firm as flesh could, the ground cracking and shifting under his feet.
Ba…
Then, a moment of eerie calm, as everything was absorbed back into the sword. Sound became silence. Motion became stillness. Destruction became absence.
And Skipper, for the briefest moment, could breathe.
Far off in the distance, he could barely see the golden aurora of the Supreme. Since he'd begun using EIN SOF, he hadn't moved from that spot, simply allowing his Aether Armament to destroy the world on his behalf. More a mechanism than a warrior.
Despite everything, Skipper grinned to himself. He couldn't imagine this was the kind of fight the Supreme enjoyed. He must have really pissed the old man off.
…dum.
Skipper held on, pouring every single bit of power into it. The flesh-coloured lining of his remaining prosthetic was stripped away by the force, revealing the dull metal beneath. The real skin on his last leg began to be flayed by the pressure as well.
It was fine -- it didn't matter what state his body was in. So long as it could still move, he could still do what he needed to.
There was a chance here. A fool's chance, all but doomed, but a light in the tunnel all the same. Probably the last light he had.
At the moment when the Supreme began absorbing everything again, the path to him was clear. If Skipper could ride the wave of energy as it came back to the Supreme, as fast as he could, and fire before EIN SOF released the energy again…
…again, a fool's chance.
But what was he if not a fool?
Ba…
Skipper whispered it this time. He didn't have any shouting left in him.
"Heartbeat… Shotgun…"
Like an emerald shooting star, he fired forth -- and flew for all the world towards the man who was like god.
----------------------------------------
Avaman understood it. He understood it as that fist again slammed into his jaw. He understood it as that elbow spiked into his back. He understood it as that knee crashed between his legs.
All around him, inside his Whirlwind Fortress, there was the tiniest blue tinge to the air. Avaman hadn't even noticed it until he'd actively started looking -- and even then, it was tempting to dismiss it as a trick of the light. But Avaman understood it.
This air was infused.
Dragan Hadrien didn't have an ability that allowed him to manipulate the air, but by infusing it with his own Aether he was able to stop Avaman from doing anything with it. Even the micro adjustments that granted Avaman additional speed and strength had been disabled -- and Hadrien had taken advantage of that weakened state for his attack. He'd made a fool of him.
Ordinarily, this wouldn't even be an issue -- Hadrien couldn't infuse all the air, after all -- but because they were inside Whirlwind Fortress, the limited oxygen supply made this strategy very much possible.
A plasma shot nearly thudded into Avaman's back, deflected only by an Aether-infused chop from his hand. This was not good. Even though the difference in strength was still enormous, Hadrien's ability to disappear and reappear -- along with Avaman's disorientation -- meant that sooner or later, the enemy would get the lucky shot he needed.
To hell with it, then. If the Fortress was the problem, he'd simply dispose of it. Avaman could disable his barriers individually -- it wasn't as if he'd be releasing Wu Ming by doing this.
Pop.
As Hadrien appeared again, ready for another kick, the bubble exploded open -- sending the young Cogitant flying backwards, a cloud of blue Aether buzzing around his flailing form. Avaman had timed his attack well: he'd wagered that Hadrien couldn't record himself unless he was in a prepared state of mind, and this shock had disrupted that. In this moment, in this place, he was open to the killing blow.
Avaman's bloody smirk spread into a crimson grin. He'd make it a good one.
Maelstrom Job.
The movement was so fast as to be incomprehensible. Avaman reached out, seized his Aether Armament as it wrote itself into existence, and blasted that deadly vortex directly at Dragan Hadrien. A bark of gloating laughter escaped from the First Contender's throat -- he didn't appreciate being fooled with. He'd make that clear here and now.
Only… a thought occurred.
If Avaman had been right… if Hadrien required a prepared state of mind in order to record himself… that didn't necessarily mean that an attack would prevent that. After all… if he'd gone in knowing that he'd be hit by an attack, and that was part of his strategy… wouldn't he still be prepared?
Dragan Hadrien vanished.
Standing behind him, previously hidden by that cloud of Aether, stood Ruth Blaine. She wasn't wearing that dull iron armour, though. The armour she wore now shone white and resplendent in the setting sun. This, too, Avaman had read about.
The Noblesse Set.
It was the mistake of an instant. As Maelstrom Job's vortex slammed into Blaine and was reflected, Avaman blasted himself into the air to avoid the returned attack… but that left the thing behind him utterly exposed.
There were very few things that could break through Whirlwind Fortress. Maelstrom Job was one of them.
Smash.
Before Avaman could even fully turn around, Wu Ming had seized him by the collar -- and smashed his fist into his stomach. From behind the skull-marked black sheet, the First Contender heard the Fourth laugh.
"Gotcha," he giggled.
----------------------------------------
It was the mistake of a nanosecond.
Whether it could even be called a mistake or not was debatable. It wasn't as if Skipper had done something wrong, necessarily, but that he had simply been insufficient. Even then, though, would there have been anyone who was sufficient?
Was there any flesh that could cross such a distance in such a time? Was there any person in this world who could spit in the eye of a god before he finished blinking? Who could time the thrust of a dagger between one heartbeat and the next?
When the ability activated once more, Skipper's fist was so close to the Supreme's face that the remaining distance was irrelevant. It was as close as two objects could get without actually touching. He'd all but made it.
Yes… he'd all but made it. That was something. But not enough.
…dum.
Before Skipper could blink…
Before Skipper could breathe…
Before Skipper's heart could beat…
…a golden light devoured the world…
…and Skipper was enveloped by everything.