Haunting Death
Frein relied on every sense he had other than sight, and was instantly rewarded by the sound of the Haunting Death’s scythe cleaving through the air. He jumped high, feeling the wind shift as a glint of the three-headed blade sliced underneath him.
The problem now was that the position left him vulnerable. He didn’t possess any Meiyal Arts to maneuver in midair, relying only on his Siffera-empowered spins and twirls that would make any acrobat jealous, but ultimately couldn’t make a difference against a weapon that huge.
Surely swinging a ten meter, three-headed scythe would take time to recover, right? Frein didn’t count on it. It was coming for him with speed and intelligence right from the get-go. No way it was going to let this opportunity pass.
What to do?
Frein’s enhanced senses and awareness, even with Siffera emphasized to its limit, could not help him pinpoint the Haunting Death Blessed by Nature’s Favor. It was a sickening thought, knowing that a Blessing of Brymeia could be possessed by a Nightmare. But maybe it was the Tower’s doing; bending the world’s rules and utilizing the participant’s memories?
Regardless, the situation made him painfully aware of how much he was lacking, how much he was unprepared. As painful as it might be to admit, Frein accepted that he wouldn’t survive the Nightmare Lands on Siffera alone.
The Art’s ability to speed up his thoughts extended his time in the air. He considered using Su’karix’s pearl to avoid any risks, but Elizzel stopped him.
“We haven’t even tried anything yet.”
It was exactly what he was thinking, like a mirror of himself, but the faunel didn’t bother to filter his thoughts. He wondered how literally the Tether would make them one. He even wondered if the same happened to the other Visitors that Elizzel contracted. And if that could be the reason why she had had to remove her memories. To regain her true self, or something along those lines.
“Hey, concentrate. We don’t have meiyal to spare.”
That gave him an idea.
“Save some for the pearl, but let’s use everything. As soon as we run out, use it.”
Elizzel delivered her agreement through the Tether and immediately went on assisting his Drawing. Despite the plan, they still didn’t have a solution to the invisible Deep Nightmare, and they couldn’t stay suspended in the air until they could come up with one.
They still had to rely on a gamble.
Frein poured everything into his reflexes. He had seen athletes, highly skilled performers, racers, monks, boxers, and many more respond to situations with unbelievable speeds. He only had to surpass them and more.
He extended both arms and waited for the first sign of the weapon. Something touched the very tip of his left finger, and he immediately reacted without hesitation.
Frein didn’t care that it came from the opposite side where he actually expected the scythe. He concentrated his Siffera around his left arm, curved himself like a ball, and defended with all his might.
The mighty three-headed weapon slammed down on him.
He was on the ground in the next instant. His arm bloody but intact, his Dream glow almost nonexistent. One more hit and it would be over.
Frein kicked the ground with all his strength, sending a wave of earth and stone to where he calculated the Nightmare would be based on the two attacks it did. Rocks bounced off its invisible bones while dirt powdered one of its sides.
It was enough for him.
Frein didn’t have to take a deep breath. As a Dream manifestation, there was no need for him to breathe. But he did it anyway to help him switch to an aggressive mindset.
The Visitor shot off the ground, reaching where the three skulls would be. There was no time to calculate the exact location, no time to prepare a punch. Instead, he raised his elbow, fortified it and his shoulder along with the rest of his body, and pierced his invisible target like an arrow.
He collided with something solid and felt a crack. Fortunately, it wasn’t his bones, but he felt the impact reverberate throughout his body. He expected his manifestation to reach the limit right then and there, but it held on, so he kept attacking.
Frein managed one Siffera-enhanced punch on the same spot he landed on before something massive ripped him out of the air. It threw him away like a discarded toy of a baby with a tantrum. He managed to turn just in time to catch himself, but his hard landing still caused a crater. His Dream manifestation flickered out of existence for just a second.
At the same time, the cloaked skeletal form of the Haunting Death melded into existence. Frein had shattered a red gem of the right skull. It screamed in agony, curling and clutching its eye with both hands as it stepped back. The scythe floated conveniently beside it.
Of course. Frein felt cheated by the weapon moving on its own, but that was the point. He shouldn’t have expected the Deep Nightmare to be so mundane and primitive.
“Stop thinking about it!” Elizzel exclaimed. “Now’s our chance!”
Art fatigue was kicking in. They were running out of meiyal. Dream manifestation was also at its limit. All things considered, Elizzel was correct to take this chance. Send everything in on one final attempt and then use the pearl if it failed. But in her eagerness, she missed a great deal of detail.
The two other skulls were looking at them.
Frein reigned the faunel in through the Tether. Only slightly, not fully dampening her adrenaline. She still had a point. They should attack now, but while wisely utilizing the initiative that they’ve earned for themselves, instead of blindly risking everything.
He formulated a plan, and it quickly—almost simultaneously—transferred over to Elizzel, as if she had thought of it at the same time. There was no discussion, no debate to be had.
Frein jumped towards the skulls and the floating scythe retaliated in response, spinning aggressively towards him. Now that he could see it, and had experienced its speed twice already, the Visitor managed to easily twist in the air and bound off its shaft, kicking himself back to the ground while completely avoiding the gigantic weapon. It provided him enough momentum to speed towards the Nightmare’s ankle.
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He rushed like a speeding bullet, utilizing the same technique he used to crack the skull’s garnet. If this Haunting Death had tougher bones than it had gems, he would just give up and move on.
His elbow crushed the bony ankle, and he pierced through completely, positioning himself at the back of the Nightmare as it crumpled down on one knee.
Frein pushed himself to the limit; in a single bound, he jumped off the giant skeleton’s back and caught the spinning scythe. The Nightmare couldn’t control the weapon while it was distracted by agony. And the Visitor intended to finish it off with its own weaponry.
It reminded him vividly of the greatsword he used against the Sphinx Without Questions. Too large, too unwieldy. But just like the sword, he only needed to guide the scythe to cleave through the spine. He’d consider that a win, though technically, he wasn’t sure if that would finish off the Nightmare.
Frein swung with all his might, curving the three-headed scythe directly at his target. The Haunting Death retaliated as he expected.
He just didn’t expect a Negating Roar at this point.
Frein was already mid swing, he was also in midair. He was left with two choices; abandon his attack, jumping off the scythe’s shaft to gain distance from the roar and completely redirecting the swing off target; or take the gamble and follow through, hoping to kill the Nightmare and possibly make the roar fizzle out before it reached him.
He recalled the first Negating Roar he ever took. The one from Those That Fell Off a Cliff. It erased his Siffera completely and essentially threw him away from the scene. He was lucky enough to regain awareness and re-Drew his Siffera on time, managing to sustain only mild bruises. But a Fallen was nothing compared to a Haunting Death. The Deep Nightmare was in a completely different league.
Frein clenched his teeth and risked it all, delivering everything he had as he swung the massive scythe. He felt the Negating Roar vibrate against the three arcing blades. And then he felt the sensation of slicing through hard bone just before the roar completely washed over him.
He was blasted off to the blackened skies, and darkness took him. But not before he heard a bell echoing a soft chime.
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“Well I’ll be.”
Frein felt something cold and wet tapping his cheeks repeatedly. It was irritating to say the least. It was also his first indication of victory. He opened his eyes to Palar’gog, who was proudly swaying his arms.
“You’re much more of a madman than I thought you’d be, Frein,” said the blob dragon. “Consider me impressed.”
The Visitor pulled himself up, trying to find his bearings. He was inside Su’karix’s mansion. Elizzel wasn’t inside his Mind Palace, causing a mild panic that was quickly eased by a soft hand on his shoulder.
The Thousand-Year Storm sat behind him, pointing to the faunel that was sleeping on her lap.
“Elizzel used the pearl at the exact moment you achieved victory, Frein,” Su’karix explained. “She gave you everything she had, including every bit of her own meiyal, sparing only enough to use the pearl.”
“I thought my meiyal was her meiyal?”
“She’s a faunel, Frein. Meiyal given form, given life. While the perks of the Tether certainly helps both of you more than just her own meiyal, you should not take Elizzel herself for granted.”
“What if she runs out of meiyal?” Frein asked.
The storm dragon simply caressed the faunel’s hair. “It’s as you see here.”
“I mean, if she runs out completely.”
Su’karix stared at him, reading his intentions with Heart’s Will. He was worried that his personality might push the faunel into doing something so drastic some day. And he also wanted to know if a faunel could die this way.
“Yes, Frein. If they run out of meiyal completely, they will die. Then, a new faunel will be born. It might take centuries or millennia, but Brymeia will birth someone to replace Elizzel, should she perish.”
“I don’t want her to die,” Frein said.
Su’karix smiled. “Don’t worry. For them, it’s like holding your breath. You either stop instinctively or pass out, but you won’t die unless someone else was choking you.”
The Thousand-Year Storm reached out a hand. “In any case, you should help her wake up.”
Frein offered his hand, the one with his meiyal core, and placed it above Elizzel’s lips. She bit on his wrist, as if she knew by instinct. His meiyal reserves were dry, but the faunel wasn’t looking for Milled meiyal. She wanted his meiyal itself.
Smoke sizzled from Frein’s back and his Dream manifestation—a glow that he thought had completely vanished—dimmed to almost nothing. But he ignored all of those, waiting for Elizzel to wake up.
The faunel slowly opened her eyes.
“Did we make it?” she asked.
Frein nodded and smiled. Su’karix leaned forward, showing herself in the faunel’s narrow vision.
“You did great,” she said.
Elizzel smiled, closed her eyes, and turned to make herself comfortable on Su’karix’s lap. “Good. Now let me sleep.”
“But we have to integrate,” Frein reminded her.
The faunel pressed her face deeper into the storm dragon’s lap. “Five minutes.”
“Why don’t you let Palar’gog introduce the material to you first, Frein?” Su’karix said, enjoying the feeling of Elizzel’s hair. “I’ll take care of her.”
Frein shrugged and turned to the winter dragon, a blob that was waiting patiently in front of a flowing, blood red sash.
The Blood-Ribbon Tassel had incredible length, floating in midair as if it was underwater. It was probably longer than the room’s width, definitely longer than the Fulgurblade. Frein found it unwieldy and distracting, but he couldn’t deny the density of the meiyal flowing through it. Despite its floating nature, he felt gravitated towards it, a tremendous mass of meiyal compressed into ribbons of flowing blood.
“Impressed, I see,” Palar’gog couldn’t smile in his blob form, but the intonation of his words clearly expressed it. “Pretty proud of this one, you know?”
“How does it work?”
“Provides you another source of meiyal among other things. You can explore what it does when you integrate with it. Don’t worry, you have my permission now, so there won’t be any risk of rejection. But like my Mercurial Liquid, it won’t work on your own.” He was quick to raise a blob finger. “Fortunately, unlike Mercurial Liquid, this material can work with the Tether.”
“Weren’t you gone when Elizzel discovered how to use the Tether?”
“You have your timelines crossed, dude. Our faunel over there was learning to use the Tether before the Great Dragon Kingdom Exodus. I figured, then, that I should adapt any material I make to be compatible with any form of union or contract, since I was the only one versed with such creations. This Blood-Ribbon Tassel was one of my final creations before I left. I brought it with me, of course, but it’s yours now.”
“Wait, I don’t even have the record with me.”
“Already have it.” A small booklet appeared in midair near the blob dragon. The Record of Northsnow, 3rd Year of Eva’s Era. “Was in your hands when Su’karix pulled you from the Tower.”
Frein tried to read through the winter dragon for any form of deception, but there was literally no way to judge the blob other than through his voice. Whether he was willing to give the Tassel in the first place or not, wasn’t a question the Visitor intended to bring up. He had an inkling, but he would just rather take the material instead of potentially insulting the Deitar.
He raised a hand, attempting to absorb the meiyal-charged material when the Eternal Winter stopped him.
“Are you serious, dude?” he said, gesturing all over him with his blob arms.
“What? I thought it’s mine now?”
“You’re in Art fatigue, Frein,” Su’karix reminded him while still enjoying her relaxation with Elizzel. “You’ll die if you absorb it now.”
“Like I said,” the faunel began, “five minutes.”
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Another hour passed before Su’karix allowed the Visitor to absorb the Blood-Ribbon Tassel. He and Elizzel then left, no longer able to maintain their manifestations.
Palar’gog sighed beside her. “I don’t like lying.”
“We didn’t lie, Eternal Winter. We simply gave him an impossible test to see if he would give up so easily.”
“But now he thinks he can kill a Haunting Death!”
Su’karix smirked. “I’m sure Katherine Militia would be quick to correct him. By then, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I imagine he would be raring to have another go at the Deep Nightmare.”
Palar’gog sighed once again. “I guess so.” He crossed his blob arms and pondered. “I’ve never seen a mortal hold the scythe and feel nothing.”
The two of them watched the fight between Frein and the Haunting Death once more, stopping at the moment where the Visitor held the scythe.
“Not only is it strong, it’s also deceptive,” Su’karix commented. “I suppose even the Visitor could be fooled.”
The skeleton was merely a distraction, a puppet conjured by the scythe which was the real Haunting Death. For the Visitor to hold a Deep Nightmare and feel nothing from it…
“What are you thinking?” Palar’gog asked. “I know that smile, Suchie. That’s a dangerous smile.”
“Suchie…” Su’karix repeated her nickname and felt giddy all over. She didn’t bother composing herself as she turned to Palar’gog with excitement. “We should tell the other Deitars.”
“About your lame nickname?”
Thunder roared, masking the splattering sound coming from Su’karix’s mansion.
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