The world was white.
The world was empty.
The world was hostile.
The second Atoy Muzazi was absorbed into Dragan Hadrien's ability, those three impressions flashed through his mind in rapid succession. That was it. He didn't have time for anything else. He didn't have time for anything else, because the next thought that went through his head was:
Dodge!
He blasted himself upwards with thrusters, but not fast enough. A kick to the back sent him flying like a meteor, crashing into one of the countless pillars that defined this world and embedding him into the stonework. Wheezing, he felt blood dribble down his chin.
This place seemed to go on forever.
A pale expanse, with white fog drifting endlessly -- punctuated by bleached chunks of architecture, slotted together like a child's toy. This was a library and a museum and a temple and a coliseum. A world of will and memory that could never exist in reality.
Dragan Hadrien appeared in a flash of blue Aether, standing atop a pristine archway, looking down at Muzazi with his cold sapphire eyes.
“My Archive,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “You like it?”
An Archive. Muzazi had heard about these -- a sort of mind palace that some Cogitants constructed to manage and regulate their thoughts. So that was how it was: the ability Hadrien used to make people disappear transported them directly into his mental landscape.
In short, right now, Atoy Muzazi was standing inside his enemy's brain.
Grunting, he pulled himself out of the rubble, dropping down to the white platform below. Even just landing -- from so short a height -- was enough to send a wave of pain vibrating through his body now. No matter: he still had work to do.
Atoy Muzazi ignited his Radiant, glaring up at the master of this domain.
“Are you hoping for a home field advantage…?” he growled. “If so… you'll be sorely disappointed…”
Hadrien just rolled his eyes at Muzazi's resolve.
“You just don't get it, do you?” he sighed, standing before the Full Moon. “Let me make it clear…”
Muzazi adjusted his stance.
“...this isn't a fight you can win,” Hadrien finished -- and the words came from behind Muzazi.
Muzazi whirled around, but too late -- again, the kick slammed into him, Hadrien's leg like a tree-trunk as it crashed against his stomach. Saliva and bile spurted out of Muzazi's mouth as he was sent flying once more, limbs flailing as he sailed through the endless white.
His vision faded in and out. Unconsciousness threatened to finally catch up with him. With a great and desperate effort, he managed to keep his mind turning, but…
Need to stop… my…
Dragan Hadrien appeared in his path.
Another kick, and Muzazi was sent flying in another direction -- like a pinball being pelted throughout the table. His leg clipped a pillar, and he went spinning, finally crashing down onto another platform of snow-white brick. Curled up into an undignified heap, he twitched.
Dragan Hadrien appeared before him.
This wasn't Gemini World he was using to get around. They were already inside Hadrien's Aether -- he couldn't exactly record himself again. No, it was just as Hadrien had said. They were inside his mind right now. In this space, Dragan Hadrien could move at the speed of thought.
Hadrien watched silently as Muzazi slowly picked himself up, thrusters blasting down from his ankles to keep his body upright.
“I don't get it,” the Cogitant said, emotionless. “Do you still think you can turn things around at this point? You can barely stand.”
Muzazi lunged -- and Hadrien appeared behind him, facing away, his arms crossed. His confidence was such that he didn't even feel the need to look at Muzazi anymore. The Full Moon's blood boiled.
Not confidence, Muzazi told himself. Arrogance.
“I could keep doing this for hours, you know,” Hadrien said, looking up at the starless bright sky. “You, though? I'd be surprised if you lasted ten more minutes. Hell, you should --”
Another swing struck empty air.
“-- be unconscious already, I'd say,” Hadrien strolled across the border of the platform, glancing at Muzazi. “You're tenacious, I'll give you that. But I just don't get --”
“Radiant Lustrous!”
Muzazi hurled a shining spear at Hadrien, and it struck nothing. He felt a weight from behind as the Shooting Star leaned against his back, the two of them facing opposite directions.
“-- why?” Dragan Hadrien said.
Muzazi glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “What?” he rasped.
“I guess it's hard to tell what I'm saying when I'm zipping all over the place,” Dragan smirked. “I said I don't get why. Why do you want to become Supreme so badly? It's to fulfill your honour or whatever, right?”
“You don't understand anything.”
“You're right about that,” Dragan mused. “I really just don't get it. Why are you trying so hard for this? You're throwing away your body. I know what else you've already thrown away. Why? Why try so hard when you know you can't win?”
Muzazi clenched his fists.
“Because… I need to change the shape of this world,” he said.
Dragan's eyes widened.
Radiant Ablaze!
Muzazi ignited thrusters all over his body, hoping to skewer Hadrien like a pincushion without moving a muscle, but even that was too slow. Before he could so much as blink, Hadrien was floating up above again, looking down at him once more. Only, this time, his expression had changed. The cold gaze was gone. The emotionless line of a mouth had twisted.
Now he looked furious.
The kick came once more, as it was always going to -- and Muzazi was once more unable to avoid it, as he was always going to be. He went flying away from Hadrien, limbs pushed in front of him by air pressure, the wind buffeting against his back --
Blue Aether crackled.
-- and, like waking from a dream, Atoy Muzazi was out. The infinite space of Gemini Dominion was replaced by the collapsing wreckage of the leisure center, falling apart even as Muzazi flew through it, still propelled by that imaginary strike.
It made sense, Muzazi supposed.
If that Gemini Dominion captured and recorded its target, it surely couldn't do so forever -- not if the target had Aether of their own to resist it with. There was a time limit. That time limit probably varied from person to person, depending on their strength, but Muzazi had managed to outlast his.
That had been bad, but he was still here, and that meant…
There was still a chance.
There was still a way.
There was still a hope.
It was a delusion that lasted only a second.
“Gemini Dominion,” said Dragan Hadrien.
The white world returned.
Atoy Muzazi, who had been free of this place for only an instant, skidded to a halt on a new, smooth white platform. Slowly, he looked up at the floating Hadrien. The shadow of despair had already begun to drift across the Full Moon's face.
“But…” he breathed. “I was out…”
“I kicked you just as the time limit ended,” Hadrien glared. “And so -- in that fraction of a second -- you went flying, in a straight line, for two meters. So…”
The next words came from behind Muzazi's head.
“... let's go again.”
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Ruth Blaine pushed against the inevitable.
The jaws of a great black serpent -- the size of a train -- were clamped around the Monarque Set, pushing it against the ruined wall and slowly -- slowly -- squeezing. Ruth floated within the egg, sloshing around in a yolk of liquid metal, blasting the absorbed force out of the Set and directly into the creature's insides. The thing was dying, to be sure… but not nearly fast enough.
Niain smiled pleasantly, holding a limp right hand out in front of him -- the serpent was protruding from the white hole he called Ahura Mazda.
What was this ability? Manifestation, Niain had said, but manifestation of what? Animals? No, he'd made a sword as well. Organisms in general? The sword had been flesh and bone, after all.
All abilities had a logic behind them. If you understood the logic, you could understand the weaknesses it created. If you understood the weaknesses it created, you could take advantage of them.
If you could take advantage of them, you could draw blood.
But then again… she'd already done that, hadn't she? She'd run her claws right through Niain's chest and pierced his heart -- and it had done nothing. The man in black was still standing here, walking and talking like that killing blow was inconsequential.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“You seem to be deep in thought there, Ruth,” Niain said softly, snake still unfurling from his ability. “Or perhaps you're trying to fight back? It's difficult to tell with this level of damage, haha. At any rate, it's a matter of seconds. This creature's jaws can crush just about anything, given time.”
It didn't feel like he was wrong. She could feel it -- gradually, slowly, but true -- the metal shell of the Monarque Set giving way. A long, thin crack was spreading over the skeletal face that looked at Niain.
Gritting her teeth, Ruth tried to tune out the sounds of creaking metal all around her.
“How many seconds, though, I wonder?” Niain chuckled, taking a step forward. “You've already set a new record in case you're interested, haha.”
Ruth's voice oozed from the skeletal grin of the death-egg. “Go to hell…”
“You'll have to go ahead and let me know how it is,” Niain said. “Five more seconds, or ten, I wonder? Maybe more. Shall we count together, Ruth? It'll give you something to do in your --”
Ruth was just thinking that someone needed to shut this guy up… when someone did.
“Sevenfold Serpent,” growled a deep voice. “Inferno.”
“Hm?” Niain glanced to the right -- and in the next moment, he was devoured by a bright orange flame.
The grip of the serpent loosened slightly as the flames scorched its back -- and Ruth didn't miss her chance. Red Aether flashed as she switched the Monarque Set for Direwolf, dropping to the ground and darting away before the jaws could snap shut against her. Jumping from floor to wall to floor, she came to a halt a short distance down the hallway.
Someone else had arrived, on the other side of Niain. The Ascendant-General of the Supremacy, Alexandrius Toll. A giant of a man, with short orange hair and gleaming gold eyes. There were others with him, too -- three soldiers dressed in white, their weapons pointed towards the spiraling flame before them.
Even though his attack had inadvertently saved her, the Ascendant-General wasn't someone Ruth particularly wanted to meet. She was a wanted criminal, after all: a survivor of Elysian Fields, along with the other charges the Shepherdess had framed her for. Without question, these people were not her allies.
But…
“Darkstar,” hissed Toll, hateful eyes fixed on the funeral pyre he was weaving.
…it certainly seemed that they weren't Niain's allies, either.
Along the long stretch of the ravaged hallway, two pairs of golden eyes met. No words were spoken, but intentions were communicated all the same. A recognition. A wariness. A proposal.
Truce?
Truce.
----------------------------------------
There's a funny phenomenon I've observed, Niain thought as the flames barreled against his shield. Let me tell you about it.
Through the tiny insects he'd scattered at the start of the battle, he was able to get a sense of what was happening outside the dome he'd erected. It wasn't anything so convenient as telepathy, though. The insects outside expelled pheromones that their counterparts inside his body collected and translated back into images and sounds.
It had taken a long time to design lifeforms capable of that. It was something he was quite proud of.
Particularly because, right now, it was showing Niain that two very strong people were coming after him.
On one side of the hallway, Alexandrius Toll was using Sevenfold Serpent: Inferno, crafting his own snake out of fire that was constricting and burning Niain's location. Indeed, he could feel the mildest hints of heat leaking through the shield. Dangerous.
On the other, Ruth Blaine was preparing for the kill. Her Direwolf Set was pretty formidable when it came to speed -- she was waiting for the moment the shield cracked open, ready to rush in and slaughter. Not a bad strategy. Against someone else, it might even have been sufficient.
But Niain was not someone else.
After all, I have a snake too, remember?
Niain whistled sharply -- and the massive serpent he'd constructed with Ahura Mazda responded to the preprogrammed signal. With a hiss, it slithered down the hallway, its bulk denting the walls, advancing upon Toll’s little group.
“Pax!” the Ascendant-General roared.
Immediately, his subordinates leapt into action. While the two in the back blasted the beast with suppressive fire, the masked man -- Pax -- charged forward. In one smooth motion, he leapt to the side -- dodging a vicious bite -- planted his feet against the wall, and kicked off again. With hands as fast as lightning, he pummeled the serpent with two strange weapons he had taken out of his pockets.
At first, Niain couldn't quite identify them… but they were, weren't they? They were stamps. How interesting this world of Aether could be!
They hadn't done much physical damage, but Pax seemed satisfied all the same. Flipping over the snake's back, he called out to his commander: “Deathmarks applied!”
With a wave of Toll’s hand, the flame-serpent attacking Niain's shield retracted, turning its attention to the flesh-and-blood snake between it and its master. Opening jaws with fangs of hellfire, it lunged.
I'm passingly familiar with Sevenfold Serpent -- both Inferno and Tsunami -- but I don't see what Toll hopes to achieve here. Just from looking at my pet, he should be able to see it can withstand the kinds of temperatures he can dish out. Even if he layers all seven serpents on top of each other like this, he’ll barely singe those scales.
Which means… he's got something planned. How exciting, don't you think? Let's watch.
Niain had been right.
The moment the flame-serpent touched the flesh-serpent, the temperature of the fire suddenly skyrocketed -- orange tendrils turning vivid blue as they quickly ate away at the familiar's body. Within the span of a few seconds, the beast had been reduced to scorched bones, tumbling down onto the floor pathetically.
Did you see it? That's an ability that boosts lethality, from what I can tell. The Abra-Facadian is a valuable ally. He doesn't just predict the future, but influences it as well by establishing and encouraging a prophecy of doom? While I doubt he'll reach Abra-Facade’s dream of temporal enlightenment like that, it's still an effective support ability.
Whatever the case… I'd be best served killing him first.
It was odd to see an Abra-Facadian -- part of the UAP -- working for the Ascendant-General of the Supremacy. Even if he was no longer a citizen of Abra-Facade, the Supremacy was no stranger to prejudice. What was surprising was that an Abra-Facadian had been allowed to get so close to the Ascendant-General in the first place.
And that brings me to the strange phenomenon I was talking about before… shall I tell you about it?
Niain reached out and absorbed just a tiny bit of his shield back into Angra Mainyu, creating a small hole he could exit through. 0.1 seconds… 0.2… 0.3… there.
Ruth Blaine did not miss her opportunity. As Niain slithered out of the black shield, she charged in, covering the distance nearly instantly and jamming her claws into his chest. Before he could swipe at her with Angra Mainyu, she whirled around -- still impaling him -- and slammed him into the wall.
As he felt the claws sink into the wall behind him, too, Niain smiled softly. Of course, Ruth Blaine was now aware that driving her claws through his chest wasn't enough to kill him. That was why she was instead using them to restrain him, to hold him in place, so that Niain's other enemy could incinerate him where he stood.
In the distance, over Ruth Blaine's shoulder, Niain could see Alexandrius Toll preparing his attack. Seven serpents of flame, coiling around each other, readying themselves to lunge forwards and embrace Niain with their heat.
It was a good move. Even he couldn't survive complete incineration. That was why it was such a shame.
There it is. That strange, strange phenomenon.
The flames poured forth.
It happens like this every time, you know? All three parties here are enemies. If anything, Ruth Blaine should hate the Supremacy far more than me, and the Supremacy should have greater cause to pursue Blaine than some terrorist who hasn't shown his face for decades. But that’s not what happened, is it?
They devoured the floor, the walls, and the ceiling.
Somehow… whenever I come up against different groups like this…
Ruth Blaine leapt away, leaving her claws embedded in Niain's chest.
…they know straight away that killing me is more important than anything else.
His right hand twitched.
Even if they're incapable of it.
Ahura Mazda.
Black Aether crackled around the white hole -- and in the next instant, a forest of blades poured forth. They lacked detail or decoration, instead being simple and stark in their dark geometry. Spikes branching out from spikes branches out from spikes, stabbing at everything within range -- and they had quite the range.
The flames were pushed away by the pressure. Ruth Blaine was struck in mid-air. The Ascendant-General and his teams were taken out of sight by the wall of cruel knives.
Up above, Ruth Blaine gasped, her helmet having vanished. The blade had punctured the middle of her chest, skewering her just as she'd skewered Niain… and, just like Niain, she was still alive despite that.
“You've impressed me again, Ruth,” Niain said casually, pulling the claws free from his chest and tossing them onto the floor. “This time you had even less time to react. You went a step further with your armour, didn't you? Manifesting it directly around your heart to protect it against my attack… wow, haha, that really is something. A centimeter of miscalculation would have meant instant death there, you know?”
He strode forward -- and as he did, one of Toll's subordinates broke through the web of blades behind him. A woman with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail aimed twin pistols at his back. The guns seemed bulky, oddly plastic, like they were water pistols rather than actual weapons.
An Armament, no doubt.
“Fun in the --” the woman said.
“Ahura Mazda,” Niain replied, almost bored, pointing his right hand back at her without looking.
Black Aether flashed -- and a torrent of locusts were belched forth from the white hole, streaming over the woman and concealing her from sight. A second later, they cleared… revealing nothing left but a gnawed skeleton. The misshapen bones clattered to the floor, a humanoid reflection of what had happened to the serpent.
“To be honest, I was hoping our mutual friend would show up,” Niain sighed, putting his hands on his hips as he inspected the art piece he'd created above. “But that woman won't show her face when there's so many people around -- especially important people.”
He waited for a reply, but none came. Cocking his head, he just continued to look up at Ruth Blaine. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she was trying to pull herself off the blade running her through.
“Goodness,” Niain chuckled. “You know what? I might actually keep you alive. It might be useful to have someone going after that woman, and I'm assuming you still do want revenge, right? It's just me you have a problem with for some reason.”
He reached his right hand out. Tendrils of black Aether danced around the white hole as he pointed it up at Ruth.
“Of course, if I want you to run any real interference, I suppose I'll have to help you out, won't I?” Niain chuckled. “Don't worry, it won't hurt. You can ask the Knight all about it when you're --”
He stopped talking.
He blinked.
He cocked his head further.
“What?” Niain said.
With the cleanest of cuts, his right hand fell from his wrist.
----------------------------------------
Violet Aether flared.
Serena sped past, her shield-sword made visible only by the black blood that now covered it. Her own face was covered in cuts and scratches from where she'd charged through the forest of blades, but her eyes were resolute. Pupils tiny, eyeballs bulging -- this was the look of one who was prepared to kill.
She drove her knee into the ground to stop her movement, kicking up sparks as she went. The shield-sword vanished, sending Niain's ink-like blood splashing onto the floor, and she instantly manifested a new one to replace it.
“Hands off my friend!” Serena cried.
Niain looked from his severed hand to the blood on the floor, from the blood on the floor to Serena, all with what looked like an expression of genuine surprise on his face.
“Who’re you?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
Serena extended a hand in Ruth's direction, purple Aether coursing between her fingertips -- and Ruth saw the telltale shimmering of the air in front of her. Bruno had erected a barrier to keep her safe.
No, Ruth wanted to say. Don't protect me, you idiots. Run. Get away. Get out of here!
But Serena did not run, or get away, or get out of there. She just opened her mouth and answered Niain's question.
“Serena del Sed,” she snapped. “I'm her friend.”
Niain's reaction was immediate. He turned his body completely, facing Serena instead of Ruth. He clenched his good fist, and the black blood stopped flowing from his severed wrist. He narrowed his eyes, pupils glazed over with distaste.
“Del Sed…” he muttered -- and the words were full of venom.
He wasn't smiling anymore.