The angel was coming to kill him.
Angel. There was no other word David Divine could find to describe the young man who'd torn the city down. He was ethereal, powerful, deep and beautiful. In David's Superbian youth, the angels in parables -- the ones who’d punished sinners and obliterated the unworthy -- were much the same.
His black leather jacket billowed in the wind behind him, and his short white-blonde hair was soaked in sweat. He was zipping through the ravaged streets of Bone Heaven, Holy Driver buzzing beneath him as he pushed it forward. The motorcycle was strangely simple in its geometry -- a collection of black shapes snapped together, like a toy, without any true trace of detail.
The golden wheels -- the only exception -- left a similarly golden trail where they made contact with the ground. That way, at least, nobody could follow him on foot. That still wasn't much help.
After all… angels could fly.
David passed under a massive archway, and in that moment, he sensed death. He snapped his head up -- and he saw there, clinging to the underside of the arch like some kind of insect, the angel. His eyes blazed blue in the darkness, twin pinpricks of unearthly light. David barely even had time to register what was happening before he started firing.
Pure animal instinct saved David’s life. As the street erupted around him -- spears of blue light decimating whatever they came in contact with -- he weaved through the destruction on Holy Driver. His heart was thumping in his chest, so fiercely that he could feel the vibrations in his skull.
Swerving to avoid a massive chunk of rubble, he instead used it as a ramp, propelling himself up to the rooftops. The moment he landed, he swung into a drift, sliding to a halt atop an old temple. Panting for breath, he stared at the cloud of dust and smoke pouring out from the street.
His hands squeezed the handle bars.
Damnit, David thought, gritting his teeth. Y-damnit. Don't lose your nerve now. You cast aside all that bullshit, right? He's not an angel -- he's just a man. He's not so strong, and you're not so weak.
He'd broken away from the Superbian sect, when he'd escaped the cage inside his mind and started living for himself. He wasn't a Believer-on-Horseback anymore. He rode only for himself now, and he'd traded his horse for a hog.
Swallowing, he twisted the throttle, Holy Driver roaring in response. The second the angel showed himself, David would charge right at him and run him down.
He breathed in…
…and he breathed out.
"Gemini Shotgun."
David threw himself down to the ground -- and as soon as he did, a chunk of rubble zoomed past from behind him, at speeds that would have shattered his spine. Before he could register what was going on, he was struck -- a vicious kick slamming into his body and sending him flying into a neighboring building. Dust flew in every direction as the sandstone wall collapsed, and he landed in a crater at the building's heart.
For a moment, unconsciousness clawed at David's mind -- but he just about managed to claw himself back.
What had happened?
The angel had just suddenly appeared behind him for that attack. He was certain he hadn't left room for the guy to sneak around, so how? Some kind of ability? Invisibility?
No… teleportation?
As David picked himself up off the ground, the angel appeared next to him in another flash of blue Aether. David immediately leapt to the side, avoiding another flurry of shots -- and this time he lunged back in for a counterattack. Holy Driver manifested in his grip, and David swung the motorcycle as a mighty club right at the angel's head.
He caught it in one hand.
Golden steam rose up from the front wheel of Holy Driver as it ground against the angel's palm. Even so, though, no matter how hard David pushed, how fast the wheel went… the angel didn't falter in the slightest. He just continued to stare at David with those calm blue eyes.
But that was fine too.
Crack.
Those blue eyes flicked over to the hand holding Holy Driver -- and an instant later, that hand popped in a flood of gore. Immediately, the angel vanished into Aether again, avoiding David's follow-up swing. It took only a second for him to appear once more, standing atop the hole in the wall, looking at his missing hand.
The stump was gushing blood, and white bone was protruding from the mess, but the angel's face remained as calm as ever. His eyes scanned it up and down, unimpressed. Was he like David, then? A healer?
Yes… Holy Driver was a healing ability. Anything that came in contact with Holy Driver's wheels or the golden trail it left would have their natural regeneration boosted significantly. In fights like this, though, David could enhance that regeneration further -- past what the human body could actually handle, causing it to rupture and sustain damage.
Poisons were just medicines in the wrong doses, after all.
The angel's missing hand vanished into fizzling Aether, leaving a strange blue border where his arm terminated. David understood. It wasn't that this guy could heal, but that he could banish his injuries. His wounds wouldn't get any worse, and he wouldn't bleed out.
So any non-fatal injury was basically meaningless.
Still, he'd created a distraction, if nothing else. David slammed Holy Driver back onto the ground and began riding it once more, speeding out of the building and back onto the ruined streets. He didn't see the angel come after him, but he did see a flash of blue shine out of the windows of the house for a second.
The angel's power involved phasing parts of his body in and out of existence. When done to a single part, he could halt the progression of an injury. Instead of teleporting like David had assumed, was the angel recording his entire body? Turning himself into Aether and moving it with consciousness alone?
Recording your whole body on a dime like that… David shuddered. This shit wasn’t fair.
As expected, the angel appeared in front of David once more -- firing two shots directly at him. He flipped in the air, deflecting the attacks with the underside of Holy Driver, chunks of molten metal ricocheting and lodging in the ground. Landing on the other side of the angel, David whipped his hand to his side and pulled free his sawed-off shotgun, aiming it at his adversary.
That was when he realized he'd almost died for a third time that day.
He whirled around, swinging the shotgun in the air -- and barely managed to deflect the shot that had been aimed at the back of his head. Even as his shotgun was reduced to scrap, though, David’s attention was focused on the absurd sight before him. Floating there, just a few meters away, was a disembodied hand -- the angel's hand, pointing at David with a single smoking finger.
It wasn't just that the angel could record his body parts. He could manifest them away from the rest of his body and continue to use them. What the hell was this?!
David ducked under a second shot -- but even as he did so, he knew it was a mistake. Even if he avoided the attack from the angel’s disembodied arm, he'd opened himself up to the main body. As the hand vanished again, a shadow fell upon him from behind.
He saw it all, out of the corner of his eye, his death approaching as if in slow motion.
The angel raising his returned hand up.
The angel curling it into a deadly fist.
The angel, bringing it down like a gavel…
…and then, miraculously, the angel stopping.
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An arrow lanced out of the darkness of a nearby alley, striking the angel's hand and impaling it through the palm. The Cogitant looked down at the protruding projectile for a moment, seemingly confused -- and then flew upwards to avoid a second volley.
“You,” came a deep voice from the alleyway. “Man with the bike. A temporary truce. Yes?”
The speaker emerged -- a burly Umbrant clad in furs, bow and arrow clutched in his hands, tiny paleo-beast carcasses hanging from his belt. Even as he spoke to David, his gaze was fixed on the young man in the sky. Probably a wise decision.
David nodded, catching his breath after that near-death experience. “Yeah, yeah. Truce.”
This hunter guy was clearly dangerous too, but right now the angel was the true terror on the field. They could worry about killing each other once he was dealt with.
“It's good to know others are of sound mind as well,” came a soft voice from a nearby rooftop. “I trust there's room for another in this alliance?”
A middle-aged man in a black raincoat stepped into view. His face was long and sallow, with a grey mustache drooping from his lips. A large, sharp shovel was clutched in his grip. A gravedigger? He certainly gave off the impression.
There was no need to answer. Just from looking at the angel above, one would know it would require all hands on deck.
That was why nobody bothered saying anything when the fourth participant arrived. A dreadlocked woman in a black leotard, her skin lined with strange seams. As David looked at her, her right arm disassembled before his eyes, crumbling into countless tiny jigsaw pieces that floated in the air around her -- each under her individual control. Blood oozed from their backsides.
David broke his gaze away from the gruesome sight, returning his attention to the angel above.
The young man still hadn't moved, his blue gaze instead flicking between each of the four combatants below. Analytical eyes. That was good -- that was a good sign. It meant he wasn't strong enough that he could defeat them all without effort. He did have to think about it.
“If you can give me time,” the gravedigger said calmly. “I can get rid of him.”
David needed to hear no more. He twisted the throttle of Holy Driver again, rushing down the street, leaving a golden trail behind him.
“Get him down to the ground!” he roared as he passed the hunter and the jigsaw woman.
For three people who had never met before, their teamwork was fairly commendable. The hunter let loose another shower of arrows -- forcing the angel to zip through the air, disappearing and reappearing to avoid them. As he remanifested outside of the projectile's range, however, he was met by another threat.
A cannonball, formed from countless bloody jigsaw pieces, slammed into him from above -- spiking him down into the street, right in David's path. David accelerated, a roar of exertion pouring from his throat, aiming to run right over the angel and fill him with Holy Driver's over-regeneration. The world became a blur around him, made vague by sheer speed.
He could do this.
He could become Supreme.
He could become someone.
He could matter.
He could --
The cloud of dust cleared slightly, and David saw it. David saw the blue eye of the angel, staring right at him, its pupil as tranquil as a stagnant lake. Just looking at that eye, the idea that this attack would be successful… became a bad joke.
It was already far too late. The angel had spoken, after all.
“Gemini Dominion.”
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???
David Divine was no longer in Bone Heaven.
All around him, stretching off past the horizon, was white. A pale void, as far as he could see. His first thought was that he had died, and that this was the world of Y. It certainly matched some of the scripture. Endless and pure.
…but no.
There was structure to this place, once the eyes adjusted. White mixtures between pillars and bookcases, punctuating the white void, and white brickwork beneath his feet. It was like an impossibly clean temple. Almost… unfinished.
David held onto Holy Driver for dear life, hands trembling against the handlebars. He was alone here -- the other three contestants were gone. He'd been isolated. Was this one of the angel’s abilities? Gemini Dominion? It had transported him here?
“Ahem,” someone said from behind him.
David spun Holy Driver around to face the new threat, his face nearly as pale as his surroundings. There, atop a hill of discarded white books, sat a young boy. He had silver hair and blue eyes, like the angel, and he was leafing through a hefty tome.
Yes… he looked just like the angel, only much younger. A child version? Why?
The boy glanced up at David.
“You're gonna wanna dodge that,” he said, voice bored.
David furrowed his brow. “Dodge wha --”
The angel's fist slammed into his face from the right, sending David -- and his bike -- flying off into the distance. He smashed through one, two, three of those pillars, bricks and books raining down from each. David twisted in the air, slinging his leg back over Holy Driver, but --
-- another punch came.
Another, and another, and another. Each blow, administered by the master of this domain, sent David flying in another direction. He was being sent back and forth through this realm like a pinball, so quickly that it took all he had just to partially block the attacks. After six or so blows, he finally landed on another floating platform, his entire body aching with pain
Hurriedly, David went to pick himself up -- but it didn't matter how much he hurried. The angel was waiting for him again, after all. With a flash of blue, the Cogitant appeared -- and immediately, raised his leg up and brought it down again like a sledgehammer, aiming directly for David's head.
This went beyond the speed he'd seen earlier. This Gemini Dominion was clearly a space David had been transported to, but there was more to it than just a change of location. Within this realm, the angel was capable of what looked like true and instantaneous teleportation. There was no escaping him.
Oh, this shit really wasn't fair.
David lifted up Holy Driver to shield himself -- and the angel's leg tore right through it, splitting the Armament in half. It wasn't a useless gesture, though. David had no way of knowing when he raised the bike, but the second he'd bought by doing so had just saved his life.
Blue Aether flickered, and --
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-- the two of them returned to reality.
They weren't in the same spot as when they'd disappeared -- instead, David and the angel appeared above the street, in the air, quickly falling back down towards the ground. It wasn't such a height that a fall would be fatal, but David already knew he wouldn't last much longer if things continued.
With Holy Driver destroyed, he'd lost his mobility. He'd be easy pickings for the angel. His only chance was now -- in this moment where his adversary was distracted.
As he fell, David wielded half of Holy Driver in each hand -- and swiped at the angel's head from both directions, golden wheels spinning. To block this attack without sustaining damage like last time, the angel would have to seize David by both wrists… but that was something he could no longer do. One of his hands was missing, and the other had been impaled. Even if he could stop one wheel, the other would still get him.
“Fucking die!” David screamed, voice breaking, as he brought the wheels in…
…and the angel grabbed him by the wrists.
David blinked. “Huh?”
Both of the angel's hands were back, gripping David's wrists like twin vices. There weren't even any traces of the injuries he'd sustained. It was inconceivable. It was impossible.
It was so fucking unfair.
Crunch.
As the angel squeezed, David felt his wrists snap, and the bisected halves of Holy Driver slipped from his grasp, falling to the streets below. David struggled against the Cogitant's grip, panic quickly overriding strategy, kicking and writhing desperately to escape. But there was no escape.
There were only the merciless eyes of the angel, drilling into his own.
And then the headbutt. It slammed into David's face, instantly breaking his nose, nausea and confusion drifting through his thoughts as his brain danced around his skull. Even the pain seemed vague, as the angel crashed its Aether-infused head into David's… again, and again, and again.
Smack.
He could see the past, he could see it, like his brain had been put on rewind. He was twenty-nine, escaping from the Superbian compound in the dead of night, riding into the horizon on Holy Driver. He was going to make it.
Crack.
He was twenty, on his knees, praying to Y with the rest. Stained glass shone its refracted light upon him, and the hymns echoed through the cathedral. What a peaceful place. What a peaceful. What a. What…
Crunch.
he was firteen and he had zits zits zits zits
Pop.
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The remaining three opponents watched with muted horror as Dragan Hadrien slammed his head into his opponents one last time -- and David Divine’s skull burst from the pressure, spraying blood and brain matter all over Dragan's face.
His expression impassive, he released his grip on David's wrists -- and the man's limp body fell to the ground. His head above the jaw was completely gone. The woman with the dreadlocks, her mouth agape, took a single step back. The fear was involuntary and inevitable.
Dragan Hadrien wiped the gore from his lips with a thumb -- and those bright blue eyes flicked down to regard the three below.
“One,” he said.