Many years ago…
Was the man training? ████ couldn't tell.
The man made everything he did seem like a dance. As he fought the automatics in the chamber below, they were his partners, not his adversaries. The debris that rained down from his victory was not destruction but confetti. His laughter echoed off the walls again and again, like countless copies of him were enjoying the moment, a party of one man equalling the jubilation of thousands.
So this was a Contender.
████’s father had only been too eager to host this man in one of his hotels, and only too eager to give him unrestricted use of this training room. After all, it made sense. The Clown of the Supremacy was known not only for his capriciousness but his generosity -- his absurd generosity, if the stars were right. Yes, it made sense. Everything ████’s father did made sense in that cold, metal way -- he was a man who saw the world as a series of cells, and he had come to recognise the various shapes the bars took.
And yet…
████ brushed their long purple hair out of their eyes. ████ put a hand against the cold glass as they looked at the dance below.
At that moment, twirling in the carnage, Wu Ming seemed the free-est man in the world.
████ would…
Morgan would…
Morgan Nacht would very much like to be free like that too.
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Present Day…
In the moment before Black Dog's ability activated, that old memory drifted through Morgan's mind. The end of life's prologue. A second birthday.
Morgan smiled softly…
…and he kept smiling, even as his image was pulled apart by the dark of the void.
AETHERAL SPACE 14.16
“Goodbye Guests (Part 4)”
With a roar of exertion, Rufus pushed Bastardborn forward -- and the shield let loose a beam of bright white heat.
Mereloco's strategy had worked. Using the focused gravity, Rufus had been able to brace himself and withstand the Praetorian's attack -- allowing his Aether Armament to rise to a truly absurd temperature. To be completely honest, Rufus wasn't sure what would have happened if he hadn't fired the attack immediately. Would his shield even have been able to contain all that energy?
He didn't want to find out.
More to the point, this wasn't a plan that would work too many times. Even after intercepting just one of those attacks, Rufus' arms felt like they were about to snap off. Intensified gravity or no, it took a hell of a lot of strength to hold onto Bastardborn while it took a blow like that. He'd had to focus his infusion nearly entirely on his muscles -- and so his hands were bright red and burnt.
The blast of heat slammed into the Praetorian's right arm -- still outstretched -- and vaporised it up to the elbow. Golden ichor flowed freely from the twitching stump as the angel looked down demurely at its injury.
TO TRY AND ELIMINATE A MESSENGER OF LIGHT WITH ITS OWN DIVINE BEQUEATHMENT…
It looked up at them, and every single pupil it had access to shrank in utter odium.
WHAT VILE CREATURES YOU ARE.
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This could not be forgiven.
It was one thing to strike an avatar of Her Majesty. It was one thing to attempt to block an avatar of Her Majesty's attack. But to attack that avatar with power stolen itself from Her Majesty? That was another matter entirely.
Sinful. Indolent. Unacceptable.
A heavenly punishment was due. Praetorian One locked its eyes onto the three enemies before it -- Atoy Muzazi, Rufus von Frostburn, and Mereloco -- and prepared the retribution. It had taken all their strength to block a single attack. The obvious solution was to just hit them with more than a single attack.
Blez Peshi. Mind's Knife.
Praetorian One divided its consciousness for a moment -- and each of those mini-minds activated Blez Peshi simultaneously, firing nearly a hundred cannonballs of singing brain-matter directly towards the shopping centre. In terms of destructive potential, they didn't compare to the light of judgment One's feathers could conjure, but a cluster of shots like this was far beyond Frostburn’s ability to block.
The damned chorus sailed through the air, coming down towards the building like a meteor shower, and…
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Unthroned.
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…they were devoured.
For an instant, barely a fraction of a second, a gravitational singularity appeared in the sky between Blez Peshi and the shopping centre. The majority of the shots were consumed immediately by the void, while the survivors were flung in every direction by the ability's aftereffects. Pillars of flame erupted throughout the district as the shots came down, punctuated by celestial screams.
For a moment, hot anger rushed through Praetorian One's veins… but only for a moment.
It was interrupted, after all.
“Radiant Almighty!”
Atoy Muzazi's second attack struck Praetorian One in the chest, the devastation caused by the redirected bombing run serving as an effective smokescreen. This time, the attack struck true -- a golden gap opening in Praetorian One's chest, spilling its burning lifeblood down into the streets. The Praetorian seethed as it glared across the district, red Aether crackling furiously around it.
FOOLISHNESS.
Red Wine Manipulation. UnDisease. A Cure for Wellness.
Three almighty healing abilities intertwined into perfection. Praetorian One's missing arm and open wound flickered and shuddered like they were being displayed on a faulty videograph -- and, between one frame and the next, those injuries vanished. It was as if Praetorian One had never been struck at all.
Of course… the damage to One's pride was another story.
OH, DEAR CHILDREN… HAD YOU ONLY NEVER DEALT THOSE WOUNDS… YOU COULD HAVE DIED SO EASILY.
Ghost Step. World of One. He Caused A Reflection.
The ten kilometers between Praetorian One and the shopping centre were nothing. In the blink of an eye, it was upon them, the massive form of the angel unleashing a burst of air pressure like a cannon going off -- like a hundred cannons going off. The slain thralls that littered the rooftop flew away like scattered leaves, and the living enemies nearly suffered the same fate.
If not for that damnable gravity.
A field of purple Aether kept the three irritations fixed in their places, and unbelievably -- unacceptably --
“Radiant Almighty!”
-- a fly was still biting.
With a snarl of frustration, Praetorian One slapped the Almighty out of the air before it could even get close. Atoy Muzazi was charging each attack up for less time than the last, and so they were getting progressively weaker -- which was perhaps even more infuriating. Did he really think he could take down Her Majesty's messenger with such feeble blows?!
Praetorian One's eyes -- all of them -- flicked around madly and independently, as if searching for its fury's balm. They found none.
AIEEE! HELL! A THOUSAND YEARS OF BLEEDING HEEELL!
Dignity abandoned for a brief moment, Praetorian One descended on the rooftop like a wild beast, slamming its fists down on the building again and again. Smoke and rubble flew in all directions as it unleashed its wrath, chunks of metal and glass sticking between the angel's fingers as it punched without end.
Within a few seconds, the rooftop was a mangled wedding cake, the impressions of One's fists firmly embedded in the metalwork.
The three insects were no longer visible among the wreckage. It didn’t matter who you were -- against overwhelming force, even the mightiest human could only choose to be crushed. Thus was the fate of those who --
“Radiant Almighty!”
The light fired out of a crack in the rubble and speared right through Praetorian One’s head. A clean hole was scorched out of one of the wings, cleanly erasing an eye. The other one blinked.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
This time, Praetorian One’s voice was soft and kindly.
CORPSE.
It pulled its arm back once again, ready to dig into the rubble and avenge the insult a thousandfold. This time, the arm bloomed into a flower of blades, sharp and packed enough to slice even the air itself to shreds. The angel’s momentary calm was broken as it screeched its rage into the bright night.
It was just a shame that rage went unspent.
There was a flash of orange light as an arrow shot through the night -- and blasted straight through Praetorian One’s other eye. The being stared silently with an absent gaze. Slowly, it twisted its punctured head-wings around.
…HUH?
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“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said.
Gretchen Hail sighed as she strode across the rooftop, shaking her head. This building was still quite a ways away from the shopping centre, but she could still feel that monster’s animosity from here. She understood this was a favour to Baltay, but even so… weren’t there limits to how big a favour he could call in?
Well… apparently not.
“Hey,” she said to the one next to her. “Looks like the eyes don’t actually matter. Go for the neck next time.”
It nodded. There was no real need for it to, but Gretchen had thought it best to program in such a rapport. Otherwise, the whole thing was just creepy. There were probably some sickos out there who enjoyed having puppets just follow orders, but that had never been Gretchen’s preference.
So the sixteen knights around Gretchen lounged and squatted, stood ready and relaxed, exhibited distinct personas through their body language. Some held swords and spears, some held bows and rifles, but without exception each and every one of them was wielding one of Gretchen’s beloved Aether Armaments. Of course… calling them ‘knights’ wasn’t quite accurate, either. After all, these were just suits of empty armour.
The Silversaint Prototypes.
Well, if I’m going to be a commander, I might as well act the part.
Standing with her legs wide apart, Gretchen planted one hand against her hip -- and pointed the other, straight and firm as an arrow, at the distant enemy.
“Troops!” she barked. “Advance!”
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“Ah… heheh…” Black Dog giggled. “Maybe I went a little too hard?”
Needless to say, nothing remained of Morgan Nacht. Everything within Black Hole’s restrained area had been completely erased -- in fact, the only thing keeping the building from collapsing entirely was the web of black strings that had been erected. Ah, strings… most of the time, this stuff came out all jagged like sparks, but when you really got the hang of it…
Multi-coloured Aether flashed as Black Dog’s form fully stabilized. He had finally finished processing all the information he’d absorbed from Wu Ming. This, he knew, was his final form -- a monochrome copy of Wu Ming himself, with chalk-white skin and jet-black hair. With the slightest effort, he willed his hair to grow out, wrapping around his body as a cloak and pooling on the floor like a shadow.
He couldn’t look cool if he was naked, after all.
The Black Dog turned, striding over Nael Manron’s unconscious -- or perhaps dead, but who really cared -- body. The careful application of a foot was very effective in forcing that ugly mug further down into the ground.
“Wow,” he said to the trash, looking out through the shattered wall. “Things have gotten pretty crazy out there, huh?”
Seriously, what the hell was going on? He was sure it had been night-time when they’d started fighting, and now everything was flooded in white light. White light with red dots all over it, angled oddly -- something physical, rather than an effect painted over the sky. A dome over the district? Some kind of ability?
Black Dog snapped his fingers, creating a lens of black strings to peer through.
“Oh, I see, I see,” he mused, looking at the giant of light on the horizon. “The Hive of Malkuth, huh? It looks like that guy has advanced pretty far himself.” He grinned with sharpened canines -- no pun intended. “What a spread, what a spread… how am I supposed to resist?”
Just by fighting for a few minutes, Black Dog had been able to acquire Wu Ming’s talent for battle and his unrivalled Aether development. What could he take from the Hive of Malkuth? What forbidden fruit could he snatch from the hands of that angel? Ah, he wanted more, he wanted more…!
Mm… He could smell Aclima, too, he could sense her scurrying about through the ruins of the district. As a vengeance ability, he was aware of her location at all times -- but that was exactly why he wouldn’t go after her anymore. If Aclima died, then the vengeance would be fulfilled, and there was every chance that would cause Black Dog to disappear.
He couldn’t have that. He had learnt the joy of battle now, the utter bliss of tearing through meat and sinew and licking the despair from the eyeballs of your adversary. No… he would remain in this world forevermore. He would remain as a curse upon all mankind.
Black Dog stepped forward, mouth wide open, tongue lashing at the air and saliva spraying from his mouth as he salivated… only for something else, something red, to spray from his mouth as well.
His eyes flicked down to the blood on the floor.
“...huh?”
“I guess you were right…” said a hoarse voice from behind him. “...you really are a perfect replica.”
Black Dog forced his head over his shoulder, glaring behind him.
He glared at the arrow of smoke that had pierced through his back.
He glared at the chain of fog that ran from it out into the darkness.
He glared at the young man who held the end of that chain in one hand… and in the other, the bow he’d used to fire it.
Morgan Nacht.
“My teacher’s a cocky bastard too,” the brat smirked.
“H-How…?!” Black Dog began -- only for his eyes to snap wide open as he realized the trick that Morgan had pulled. Those words. Those ‘last words’ of his.
“I… Ba… a… Bastard… J…Just…”
I… Ba… A… Bastard… J…Just…
I… A… J…
Black Dog ground his teeth. Over the course of his fight with Morgan Nacht, he had acquired some knowledge of the brat’s worthless abilities.
Inside… Amplify… Jape…
“I see,” Black Dog sneered. “You used an Amplified Inside to escape to the next room over, and used Jape to leave a fake behind. That’s what I destroyed, right? You’re still a failure, though. Two out of ten, and you’re lucky to get that much.”
“A failure?” Morgan raised a wavering eyebrow. “I’m surprised you can still talk so big.”
“You managed to survive, yeah,” Black Dog waved a dismissive hand. “If you kept quiet, you might have even lived a long life. But you go and throw it away for a flesh wound? Yeah, two out of ten.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Morgan said. “I’m surprised you can still talk so big…”
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“...since you’re about to die.”
F.
The Fog that Morgan had scattered throughout the building poured back in, flowing towards the arrow embedded in the Black Dog’s chest.
A.
He had Amplified and strengthened it.
C.
He had sharpened and compressed it.
I.
With a thought, he sent the gathered smoke Inside the hollow arrow, filling it until it was close to bursting.
“You think this is the coup de grace?” Black Dog chuckled. “My Guardian Entity is still in effect, fool, and even if it wasn’t --”
The monster reached to pull the arrow out -- but as it did, metal strings lashed out of the darkness and wrapped around its arms, binding them tight behind its back. That, at least, finally seemed to get the seriousness of the situation across. The Black Dog’s eyes widened in alarm, and it bared its teeth as it looked down at Manron’s body.
The King of Killers had one eye barely open, and his lips barely forced into a smirk.
“Get fucked,” he gasped.
“So what?!” roared the Black Dog, pulling at its bindings -- it would surely only take a few seconds to break free. “You already know your ability won’t work! All this is doing is buying time, and it’s a zero-outta-ten exchange rate! Don’t imagine some incompetent brat can --”
“The thing is,” Morgan smiled. “I’m a copy-cat too.”
K. Kindred.
That redirection doesn’t work on you, does it?
L.
These next words aren’t actually necessary, but…
Morgan Nacht opened his mouth and screamed.
“RADIANT ALMIGHTY!”
Light exploded from within the Black Dog’s body -- overwhelming it in a moment. It finally broke through the metal strings, but all it could do with that freedom was spread its arms wide as it screamed. A shining glow burst from its mouth and eyes as the Light raged through its body, its fingernails popping off one by one and cracks forming over its skin as the almighty radiance sought any possible exit.
The scream became a howl, and the man became a dog. Writhing in the divine glow, the Black Dog lurched towards Morgan, desperate to close the distance and end his life. Did it think that killing Morgan would deactivate the ability, or did it simply want to finish him off out of spite?
It no longer had the words to say.
Its shape distorted and degenerated as it advanced. Countless limbs and faces sprouted from the beast’s mass as it dragged itself across the floor -- Wu Ming’s face, Nael Manron’s face, even Morgan Nacht’s face, all of them distorted by fury and agony. For a moment, it looked like it would finally collapse… but no, it was just preparing itself for the final push.
With an audible screech of Aether, the body of the Black Dog became a massive hound once more, stretching across the room and rushing towards Morgan, jaw open and ready to bite down on his throat -- even as light bled out from between its fangs.
This abomination would last only seconds more… three seconds at the most. But Morgan couldn’t move. Could he survive those three seconds?
One…
The dog bounded forth…
Two…
The jaws stretched forth…
Three…
…and a subtle, nearly-invisible string severed the beast’s head before it could make contact.
The body vanished first, evaporating in the aurora of light that bloomed forth from its core. For a second, the head remained, still flying through the air, a single white eye still fixed on Morgan’s face. Slowly, just before the head fell, that eye closed.
Morgan didn’t know whether what happened next was a result of Wu Ming’s essence that the monster had absorbed, or whether it was something it did of its own volition. But, in the last moments of the Black Dog’s existence, it opened its mouth and spoke.
“Not… bad… kid…”
Light flared, and wiped away the shadows.
“Ten outta ten…”