"It's on the ropes!" Dragan cried to his friends as they rushed around it, cutting at the exposed flesh. "Don't let up!" He himself fired off another volley of Gemini Shotguns, aimed right for the eyes.
As the attack hit, the beast reared back -- and then it's jaw snapped open, like a snake getting ready to eat a massive chunk of food. Dragan hesitated. Something was wrong -- this wasn't like the other times it had roared in pain.
The massive black skeleton took a deep breath, and
screamed
The noise was deafening, louder than anything Dragan could have imagined -- a resounding discordant screech that rippled over the area like a tidal wave. The sound pierced, crawled and infiltrated -- he could hear the brickwork of the building vibrating beneath him, and feel the sound rippling under his skin. Split-second migraines tormented him, intense and agonizing enough to bring tears to his eyes. It was as if someone were running their fingers over the surface of his brain.
He fell to his knees, coughing up vomit. How much longer would this go on for? How long had this been going on for? Ten seconds, maybe more?
Out of the corners of his eye, Dragan could see Ruth and Serena, their own bodies locked in similar seizures as they thrashed and choked on the ground. The massive skeleton hadn't moved since it began screaming, it's head angled up towards the sky as the screech rang out.
Did that mean it couldn't move while it was using this attack? If that was the case, it would be the only reason they weren't already dead.
Slowly, slowly, the scream trailed off -- and the skeleton began to creak back into motion.
Dragan picked himself up as quickly as he could, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and ignoring the twinges of protest from his body. Ruth and Serena did much the same, Serena planting a hand down on the roof to pull out a new sword from the tiles and stone available.
That attack had stunned them, but if the enemy didn't have a way to take advantage of that then it was worthless. Effectively, all it had done was pause the fight. Now that they were back on their feet, all they had to do was continue --
Dragan's stomach rumbled.
He reflexively put a hand to his abdomen. It only made sense that he was hungry -- they'd been busy for days, now, with little opportunity to sit down and have much more than a snack. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to really sink his teeth into something? A burger, at the very least, the opportunity to bite down on warm bun and meat and feel the sauce pour over his tongue? Just the thought of it was almost making him drool.
Dragan got the faintest sense that something was wrong, but it didn't really matter right now. Even if that scream had done something like stimulate the parts of the brain that manage hunger, that didn't change just how fucking famished he felt right now. His stomach was so empty it felt like it was going to collapse in on itself, and he was expected to fight in that kind of condition!? This was bullshit!
Tears of frustration building in his eyes, Dragan thumped his fist against the ground. The pain was considerable -- he hadn't infused his hand -- but that, in itself, was his salvation. That pain made him look down.
There was blood running between his injured fingers.
Warm, nutritious blood. How could he have been so stupid? He was sitting here crying about the lack of food, when he had five little sausages sticking out of his hand -- ripe for the taking. He realized that they were in the middle of a fight, but these were extenuating circumstances!
Even if he ate one finger, he could still form a fist with those he had left. Come to think of it, he did most of his fighting with his Gemini Shotgun, so did he really even need a fist anyway? If things got a little crazy, and he ended up without his arms, he could still fight perfectly well -- and as a ranged combatant, he didn't necessarily need feet either, did he? He could just take up a position and fire from a distance.
The possibilities only made him drool more. But before he could get to any of that, he had to ease these hunger pains. Slowly, shakily, he lifted his fingers up to his open mouth. Just up to the first knuckle, and then he could think about this with a clear head.
Anticipation and hunger broiling inside him, Dragan's eyes rolled up into their sockets.
Bon appetit!
"Stop!"
Just before Dragan could bite down and relieve his hunger, his hand was pulled out of his mouth and slammed forcefully onto the ground. Hot anger flaring through his body, he turned his head to face Ruth, who was restraining him, pinning his other arm behind his back.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he screamed. "I'm going to starve to death!"
"It's messing with your head," she forced out through clenched teeth. "S-Snap out of it."
Ruth held him down with all her strength, even as her own body twitched. There was a pained, distorted expression on her own face as well -- she was doing everything she could not to succumb to her own hunger. Did she just have more experience with this? Even if that was the case, it was unreasonable for her to expect him to just sit here and take it!
His feral eyes locked onto her neck, at the licorice-like jugular vein pulsing there. Just a quick nibble of that, and…
No. No, he couldn't do that. Anything else, but not that.
----------------------------------------
"Damn it," Ruth hissed, holding Dragan down with all her strength as he thrashed wildly. "Stay still, just stay still!"
She could feel it too, on the border of her mind, the whispers telling her that -- when it came down to it -- the thing she was holding down was just a big, human-shaped steak. For now, she could push it down, throw that aimless hunger away, but she wouldn't be able to do that forever.
Before she fully gave in to this impulse, she needed to take this thing down. But she couldn't do it alone.
"Dragan!" she cried. "Snap out of it!"
It was no use -- his thrashing didn't lessen in the slightest. Her eyes flicked over to Bruno and Serena, still stuck on their hands and knees. They weren't moving at all, but they also weren't trying to eat themselves. Did they have some way of holding this thing at bay too?
"Dragan," she whispered, helplessness surrounding her like an old, familiar cage. "Please…"
What replied was not Dragan -- but a voice from the sky.
"It's no use," it said. "There isn't a person in the entire world who can overcome their own mind."
Ruth looked up.
There, floating arrogantly in the sky, was the bastard that could only be Aka Manto, looking down at them dismissively. He seemed to have lost his mask, revealing a wrinkled face and electric blue eyes, but Ruth didn't know anyone else who could just float around like that. His cloak billowed around him as he hovered over the skeleton, like a devil on its shoulder.
She spat on the ground, still holding onto Dragan with all her strength. "You don't see me o-or Serena eating ourselves. That attack got one out of three. Not exactly something to be all smug about."
Aka Manto smiled thinly, even as he completely ignored her statement. Instead, it looked towards the skeleton -- Gashadokuro. It was still twitching back to life, pulling itself back together after that presumably draining attack.
"Garth is something of a fool," he said drily. "He didn't truly understand how to use Entity Override. The target of it will do exactly as you ask -- only as you ask it. When it comes to an idiotic beast like this, all you'll get is idiocy. Allow me to demonstrate a more effective means of utilizing it."
He took a deep breath, clearing his throat.
"Entity Override: Gashadokuro," he said. "Continually attack the outsider girl with the red hair, without stopping to rest or defend yourself until the target is eliminated. Once that is done, eliminate the outsider boy with the silver hair. Leave the blonde brat over there alive -- I'll need one of them breathing so that I can extract Aubrisher's location. Begin executing these orders when I snap my fingers. Now, that sounds much more efficient, doesn't it?"
He raised his hand, fingers poised to snap, his body blotting out the sun and casting a long and deep shadow. Ruth glared murderously, unable to do anything but hold the writhing Dragan down.
"Let's begin, shall we?" Aka Manto said. "The final round?"
His fingers began to brush against each other, and --
"Heartbeat Shotgun."
-- Aka Manto's hand exploded into gore, blood and bone raining down below. The Entity screamed, holding his demolished wrist tight as he whirled around in the air to face his opponent.
Ruth had thought she'd known only one person who could float around like that, but apparently she'd been wrong. Skipper hovered higher up in the air, holding his palms downwards as a continuous stream of Heartbeat Shotguns kept him aloft. He grinned cockily as he regarded the Guardian Entity below him.
"Hey, pal, what's the big idea?" he asked. "We were in the middle of a fight, and you go and run off after one little explosion? It took me hours to figure out where I'd ended up. Dick move, man. Seriously."
Aka Manto growled furiously, gripping it's throwing knives between the knuckles of its remaining hand -- the stump of the other dissipated into Aether. "Imbecile. I'll kill you myself!"
The Entity hurled the knives, lunging at Skipper in a dogfight of sound blasts and silver blades. Within a few seconds, they were just green and red-blue streaks lancing through the air above the cathedral.
But the problem still wasn't solved.
He still had his other hand, and he'd snap his fingers at any moment, and there still wasn't anything Ruth could do but hold down Dragan. She could try knocking him out, maybe, but he still had his Aether -- who knew how long that'd take? But if she didn't do something, they'd both be killed by Gashadokuro. Damn it, damn it, damn it!
"What's the problem?" asked Lily Aubrisher, right next to her ear.
Ruth almost jumped out of her skin. One second, it had been just her and Dragan -- the next, Lily Aubrisher had appeared right next to them, kneeling on the ground. She looked different, too -- her hair scorched white, her eyes subtly glowing with the electricity that ran throughout her entire body.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
This day had been going on long enough that Ruth wasn't going to question things anymore.
"Look," she grunted. "You get hurt when you're using the lightning stuff, right?"
Slowly, Lily blinked, as if she were tuning into this conversation from a long way away. "Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess I did."
"Then," she hesitated. "Then, can you just hold Dragan down for me? I need to fight!"
She winced as an explosion of sound rang out not far away, and a dozen ricocheted throwing knives embedded themselves into the roof. They were wasting time.
"Hold him down?" Lily cocked her head. "Yeah, okay."
Without missing a beat, she took over for Ruth, restraining Dragan with surprising strength. As she did, Ruth stood back up and stepped forward, grimly manifesting her claws as she stared up at the massive black skeleton. It had finally come back into full motion, snapping it's jaws open in a silent roar that sent Ruth's long red hair flowing back.
Behind her, Dragan's thrashing suddenly ceased as he realized exactly what she intended to do.
"Ruth," he gasped, words straining to form. "Don't. Don't. We couldn't -- couldn't beat it with three of us. You'll die."
Ruth Blaine gulped down the last of her fear. Then, she turned back and offered him a cocky grin.
"Nah," she said. "It's fine. I'm strong."
Snap.
Gashadokuro lunged, and Ruth danced.
----------------------------------------
The Archivist looked up at Dragan's solution. "I have to say," he said, hand on his chin. "This doesn't seem the most efficient way to deal with things."
"Feel free to speak up if you've got a better idea," Dragan replied.
"If I had a better idea, so would you."
"Well, there you go."
The shape of Dragan's Archive had been altered somewhat to account for the current situation. Right now, the snow-white landscape consisted of four bookcase-towers rising up above a layer of clouds -- and great marble chains ran from the corners of each tower, collectively binding the entity between.
Dragan's hunger thrashed and roared within its bindings -- a great vortex of meat and teeth, snapping and gnashing at empty air. Every few seconds, the chains binding it would be shredded away to nothing, only to be replaced by new bindings that lashed out fully-formed from the towers.
It wouldn't hold forever. But it would hold for now.
"Well?" the Archivist turned from his sitting position on the balcony to face Dragan. "What next? What do you do once that skeleton slaps Ruth down like a basketball?"
Dragan shook his head. "It won't."
"Huh?" The Archivist didn't seem impressed.
"Ruth said she'd win, so she'll win," Dragan declared, without the slightest trace of doubt in his voice. “I trust her to make good on that."
The Archivist rolled his eyes, but a smile played across his lips all the same. "Well… if you say so, I guess."
Dragan opened his eyes.
He was still being held down on the ground -- Lily's immutable grip restraining him without much visible effort at all. She'd clearly become much stronger since the last time he'd seen her -- and the electricity running along her body was the unmistakable power of her Guardian Entity. Had they somehow merged to become one organism?
If that was the case, he had a single nasty plan for how they could all get out of this alive.
"Lily," he forced out. "You trust me?"
She blinked placidly. "I suppose so. Why?"
"I have a plan. Listen closely…"
----------------------------------------
Three years ago…
Ruth panted heavily, trying to ignore the tremors running through her body as she knelt in the wreckage of the dining room. Splinters of wood and porcelain littered the chamber, the windows were smashed beyond repair, and the walls and floors were scoured with copious claw marks.
None of this carnage, however, even compared to the bed of gore beneath Ruth Blaine.
Not an inch of identifiable human remained. Admiral Zed Barridad had been pulped, shredded and pulverised until he had become but this -- an incoherent pile of scattered flesh, blood and bone. What little of him wasn't rotting on the floor instead clung to and dripped from Ruth's Skeletal claws, strands of spare muscle clinging to the blades.
She'd killed them all. Right after waking up for interrogation, she'd killed them all. Every single soldier in this place. None of them she'd destroyed to this degree, but she'd killed them. She'd beheaded and bisected and disemboweled. She'd strangled and beaten and ripped out throats.
She'd killed. She'd killed.
Even this man, who'd seemed so invincible, so immutable, she'd killed. It had taken hours of fighting, of dodging and parrying his liquid metal, but in the end she'd pried open his Emperor Set and tore him apart. There hadn't been any last words. Her fury hadn't given any time for that.
If someone had asked her how long she'd stayed there, staring down at the human wreckage, she would have had no answer -- but eventually she stood up and, like an automatic, began to stiffly walk back to the rebel camp.
The moon was high in the sky, and Ruth stared up at it as she walked through the jungle. In this state, she would have been easy prey for any paleobeast looking for a meal, but her walk remained undisturbed. Perhaps they could sense that what they were looking at was a fellow predator.
The war was over. She'd won. If nothing else, she had that, right? She'd killed that bastard. She had that, didn't she? If nothing else, if nothing else, she had that. She'd have that gratitude to keep her going.
The war was over. Even Grave had to admit that, didn't he? She forced an abortion of a smile onto her face, the rictus grin of a skeleton. They'd won. They'd won.
She reached the camp.
Little of the structures remained but cinders, smoldering sparks flickering mockingly on the ground, like the landing lights for a demon. Smoke drifted up towards the sky, choking the treeline. Every now and then, it would pass over the moon, causing it to blink like a great eye.
But that was nothing.
In the centre of the clearing, illuminated by the sparks and the moon, was a pile of man. Corpses, at least a hundred of them, were stacked on top of each other in a massive hill. Some burnt, some shot, some stabbed, but all dead. Faces locked into permanent pain and anguish, blood slowly cascading down like a curtain.
She recognised each of those faces. How could she not? These were the rebels she'd spent her life with. There was Oleg, one of his eyes blasted out by plasma. There was Rupert, his heart gouged out by a blade. His was the only face that had managed to conceal the agony.
And there, at the top, dumped like a piece of garbage, was Robin. Ruth couldn't even bear to look at her.
For the second time, Ruth fell to her knees. She'd barely survived the first anguish, but she knew that this was the deathblow. Who could look at this and not break completely?
These people are my victims, she mutely realized. I killed them. I killed.
A sickly, discordant laugh poured out of her throat as she clutched herself tight. It went from giggle to laughter to cackling, echoing through the empty jungle like vile music, before trailing off. That was when it became screaming.
She screamed for so long, it felt as if her throat would explode inside her mouth, choking her to death. Perhaps that was what she was hoping for, kneeling there with tears of pain and sorrow flowing down her cheeks. Perhaps if she screamed just a bit longer, she'd --
A gentle hand landed on her shoulder.
"Hey," Skipper said.
----------------------------------------
Present Day…
Ruth flowed through battle like a needle through thread.
She leapt through a hand swipe, her body narrowly flying between two of the hostile fingers. She slid under an attempted stomp, the heel of the great foot missing her by mere inches. She jumped away from a vicious bite, ricocheting off flying debris like a pinball and landing on the ground. She stepped out of the way of an unruly punch, not even flinching as the portion of wall she'd been next to was utterly demolished.
Aka Manto's orders had been effective at making this Gashadokuro more hostile, but they'd ruined what semblance of strategy had been present. It's attacks had become simple, predictable, as it abandoned what little it had that made it more than a mere beast.
No offense. It's the same mistake I made.
Ruth flowed through the battle like water, the attacks of Gashadokuro growing more desperate and furious as it was tired out. That was what she wanted.
Behind her and above, the grand spire of the cathedral exploded outwards -- rubble raining down -- as something shot up and out from within the cathedral, a great shooting star rising up into the sky at escape velocity.
Ruth didn't spare it a thought: it wasn't relevant right now. Neither did the skeleton. It simply reared up, pointed its head up toward the sky, and unhinged it's jaw.
There. I've won.
Ruth leapt forward, weaving through fragments of falling rubble and overpowering the wind and rain that battered against her. Her claws trailed sparks behind her, making her look like a streak of flame that shot across the roof.
Her claws dug deep, and with them she hurled a chunk of rubble into the air ahead of her -- and then, moving faster than her own projectile, she leapt up, kicked off it, and shot towards the head of Gashadokuro.
No, towards the neck. If this thing looked like a human, then she'd kill it like a human.
With the slightest swipe of her claws, Ruth Blaine sliced through Gashadokuro's jugular as the two of them crossed paths. Not with the fury of a beast, but the precision of a surgeon.
Blood flowed forth freely.
-
Enden Los raged through the skies.
Not a second passed where he didn't let loose a flurry of throwing knives, filling the air with so many projectiles that there was no possible way his opponent could dodge them. And yet, and yet…
This infuriating man kept dodging them, bending his body at illogical angles and deflecting the knives that still came too close with blasts of sound. No matter what Los did, he couldn't touch the bastard.
If knives wouldn't do it, then Enden Los had other projectiles in stock.
Los paused his hovering over the wreckage of the central spire -- blasted by the launch of the escape pod -- and spread his cloak wide, concentrating his Aether into his upper torso. He could feel it, even now, creatures struggling to escape the cage of his consciousness.
His enemy stopped his flight as well, brow furrowing as he clearly tried to figure out just what this attack was.
"Open," Los growled. "O Earth!"
Countless Guardian Entity rejects poured forth from his body, all of them equipped for flight. As one, the mass of winged monstrosities hurtled towards the nearest source of food -- this damnable man -- like a swarm of rabid bats.
They were fast. Within seconds, the man had been trapped in a vortex of flying beasts, the only sounds audible from within being the screeching of the failures and the endless blasts of bass.
No doubt that man would survive this -- he'd proven himself adept enough not to be bested by mere animals -- but it would buy the time Los needed to get Aubrisher's location out of that blonde brat. A smile of imminent victory on his lips, he turned towards the roof below --
-- just in time to see Gashadokuro dissipate into nothing.
Just in time to see the red-haired outsider standing over its corpse.
Just in time to catch the projectile -- a chunk of debris -- the Cogitant boy had shot at him. The young man's face was twisted in concentration: doubtless he was on the verge of giving into his hunger once more.
Los looked mutely down at the smoking piece of stone in his palm. It was weak, barely strong enough to bruise one such as he, but even so, even so… it truly, truly felt like he was about to burst a blood vessel.
"Insect!" he screamed.
In an instant of monstrous speed, Los was upon the brat -- his throwing knife raised high, ready to spear through this little shit's insolent skull. If Gashadokuro had been insufficient, he'd just do this himself. Everyone else had proven insufficient, so what was one more simple and supremely satisfying task?!
Arm shining with red-and-blue Aether, Los went to hurl his knife.
But.
"Gemini World."
In front of the brat, in front of Los' target, a figure manifested from Aether. What was unmistakably the form of Lily Aubrisher appeared, flesh and bone weaving into existence, but that light, the glow of that holy electricity…
His mind understood he was looking at the one he hated more than anything. But his body? His eyes? All they could see was the divine light of their creator.
Enden Los hesitated, just for a second, and the knife refused to leave his hand.
Oh Mother, he thought, a curious peace in his heart. Why couldn't I have just died with you, back then?
The blast of lightning that struck him was greater than any that the planet had ever seen before, piercing both his body and the clouds above him as it ripped him apart. As electricity scoured his body, Enden Los burnt away like a piece of flaming paper, the scorched confetti of his life silently scattering to the winds.
All that remained were two scraps of cloak -- a patch of blue, and a patch of red. Then they blew away too, and both amounted to nothing.
The rain stopped.