Daito landed next to Tyr with a thump, saying nothing. The boy was so stubborn and cocksure it'd be unwise to do so. All he'd do was what he wanted to, no matter what kind of decision they made beforehand, too impulsive. A nod exchanged between both was all there was as the woman walked out of the rapidly melting tunnel of ice, heralding her return to the field.
“What's this about killing a primus?” Tyr raised his head. She was the exact same height as him, but Rafael was given the clean indication that he was looking down on her menacingly. “You couldn't stop me even at the peak of your power, and Alexandros? He would wipe the floor with you. Go now, somewhere else. I have better things to do than lay you out again.”
When did we fight...? Tyr said the words, but he honestly didn't recall meeting this woman let alone fighting her in the truest sense of the word.
“And wouldn't you like that?” She smiled back at him, two apex predators facing off in their chosen arena, stalking one another. Flowers bloomed with every touch of her bare feet against the ground. As Tyr had been, she was naked and bare from the waist up. A tight, athletic... Well, maybe there were more pressing matters of concern. Suffice it to say that like everyone else – she was quite charming in appearance. “Just like old times...” She mused, appearing lost in thought. “But I did not come here for that irritatingly familiar nephilim, I came here for you.”
“Me?” Tyr frowned.
“Of course. I am Alyx, by the way. But I am sure you already knew that.” Alyx replied with a soft smile playing at her lips. The lightbringer, a nature spirit of the physical life cycle, so similar in aspect to Valkyrja as to make them twins if not for the subtle differences in their influence on the world.
“I didn't...” Tyr said, squaring off against her. Daito was pleased to see that he inched away so that his back was not facing the adventurers behind him. Whether it was common sense or consideration for someone other than himself. As the man's self proclaimed 'master', it was good to see some positive changes – especially when it came unexpected. “But you could have been more creative with your naming conventions. Two Alex's, and Alexandros has to count in a situation like this. Then there's Alexei but I doubt you know him, nice guy but he's got a big dent in his head so he talks slow. I tried to fix it and he got even slower, so now we just let him waddle around fixing peoples bikes even when they didn't ask for it.”
Tyr squinted, shaking his head free of jumbled thoughts. What the hell was a bike? Something about this situation was so familiar to him, like he'd done this a thousand times. An intense wave of deja vu washing over him.
“It's Al-icks. Not Al-lecks.” She tutted happily.
“That explains so much, thanks.” Tyr frowned. “Are we going to fight again or are you going to make like a watermelon and fuck off, lady? And put a damn shirt on! Well... You know what, I'm a proponent of gender equality, free the nipple and all of that – I've changed my mind.”
“I am gladdened to know this biological form suits you, mutt.” Alyx chuckled.
“...You are acting strange.” Daito observed, warily watching the red woman's approach. She was in perfect condition, with healthy bronzed toned skin and no apparent damage from that titanic strike Tyr had lit her up with. “Funny, I guess, but I don't think this is the best setting for some riffing.”
Tyr was squirming, licking his teeth and stretching his mouth wide in a manic fit of energy. “I feel strange. I feel so good. Like there's been little lead balls in my brain weighing me down and making it so hard to think. I've used a similar analogy with you in the past, but I feel the same way I do when I play music, or... Is this you?”
“The color has returned, or some such.” Daito clucked his tongue. “But it's not me kid, I feel the complete opposite. I doubt I'd be a match for that thing even at my peak, and her aura is suppressing all of us. I haven't seen many domains this strong in all my days.”
“Not all of you.” She said, inclining her head in Tyr's direction. This 'Alyx', showing no obvious sign of violence. “Not the boy. I am here to collect Tyr.”
Tyr and the others squinted their eyes at the woman. She had piercing eyes so green they might've been carved from jade, with minute veins of light glowing within. Darkening and lightening in shade like sunlight dappling the rocks beneath a river's surface.
“You'll have to come back later, then.” Tyr shrugged. “I don't particularly mind, but it's going to be a real pain in the ass if I let these contracts lapse. Stick around for another day or two and I'll go wherever you want.”
“Tyr...?” Hogan hissed. His carefully waxed mustache undulating gently in the later summer breeze. “What are you talking about, do you know this woman?”
“I don't think so. I don't know...? Maybe we've met... Somewhere.” Tyr shook his head. “And I'll fight her if you want me to, but I'm reasonably sure we'll just lose and people will get hurt. At the very least, it'd be a huge waste of time, maybe I'd stand a chance if I exploded myself again, but I couldn't avoid damage to the walls.”
“...That wasn't you trying your hardest?” Rafael looked at him skeptically, finding it a bit ridiculous to insist he could do anything against that horrifying monster. How was a spell that literally destroyed him down to his bone marrow not 'going all out'?
“It's not. You have no idea how strong I've become.” Tyr frowned, clenching his fist before relaxing it again. He was visibly shaking, but not in that shivering or scared kind of way, more like he'd had too much of that brown mud water they called coffee. Tyr missed coffee, somewhere deep inside of him even though he'd never actually liked it. He was overflowing with a power he hadn't felt since he'd kicked his father in the teeth.
It wasn't as powerful, but it was almost identical to that feeling, and he knew instinctively that it was temporary. That burst of manic strength a predator felt just moments before a kill. Or in this case, the hysterical strength of a prey animal being hunted. That might have been more appropriate, this woman was strong. Strong enough to the point where he barely felt her presence when she was still, that was usually a telltale sign of it, the absence rather than the presence.
The weak always liked to flaunt and puff out their chests, but the dangerous ones were often quiet and withdrawn. Abaddon, Valkan, the only exception were the primus' and Tyr was sure they were each individually stronger than this woman by leagues. If anything, it served to cement just how insanely strong a primus was. Mountain shattering power that required preternatural control at all times not to simply tear everyone around them into pieces just by standing near.
“This is you.” He looked at the woman, she was definitely pouring energy into him, somehow. “Isn't it? What are you doing to me?”
“It is.” She nodded evenly, as calm as ever. Orpheus was who she reminded Tyr of in retrospect, they could be twins if not for the hair, eyes, horn, and complexion. Orpheus was as cold as the void though, and this woman was hot and raging inside like a furnace. Letting off just enough heat to scald her surroundings, and it made life go wild. She was a sun. Too close and nothing could survive, too far away – though – and the same could be said. Tyr seemed to sit perfectly within an orbit around her, he was reacting to the presence of this nature spirit in a way he couldn't describe. And despite that positive burst of energy, he very much wanted to destroy her. In the most gruesome of ways, to remove her from a world she didn't belong in.
“Don't look so confused, it's not like I have control of it. In the presence of... One of my own kind, let's say, things like this can happen. But this prattling has gone on long enough, and I didn't come here to tear the throats of the white skinned monkeys gawping at this vessel with abject lust. It disgusts me more than you will ever know. Make a choice, die here – or die out of sight. I will erase you from this world and I will bathe this city in fire if you fail to amuse me. Does that anger you? Frustrate you to know that I could squash everything you love like an insect?”
“Not really.” Tyr shrugged nonchalantly, startling the others around him, feeling his heart sink when Sara in particular gave him a look of disgusted shock. But he didn't make a habit of lying, continuing to articulate his thoughts as best he could. “Destroy the city and kill as many people as you'd like, as long as they aren't children and you leave the things bound to me intact. What's with this stereotypical antagonist talk, anyways? If you want to appeal to someone's love of peace or stoke up some fighting spirit, look at them. I have what industry professionals like to call a mental illness, I'm not their hero, just a guy who likes to punch things until they stop moving.”
He thrust his thumb back at the other adventurers, several of them again visibly startled by the cold confidence in his voice. Tyr was honest. He didn't want anyone to die, but he really didn't care that much if they did. The world might be a better place if they were forced to struggle amidst the scraps and forge themselves anew from calamity, he'd seen that. He knew how wrong it was, well aware, but like refining steel, sometimes you had to scrape the slag away.
Tyr was a living example of what an empty vessel was capable of when beaten, broken, and forced to chase things by which they could be filled again. Humans were a fallen race no better than any other, but they were made for so much more.
These people all complaining about this or that while the poor, weak, and starving remained undefended in the frontier. A great many adventurers saw themselves as heroes, but a solid majority of them were preening, greedy scum. Full of impure thoughts, not bad people, just normal people – because that's what humans were like at the baseline. Tyr didn't feel the urge to punish them for it, it wasn't significant enough for him to care about.
As long as the things and people he called his own remained untouched, it was what it was. That was who he was. He'd been crushed when Benny had been killed but he'd accepted it, little cracks left in his wake. But he would eventually refine himself, just like the mentioned steel, and be better for it.
Pain and suffering made one strong. Nicks and cuts would heal, skin would thicken, broken bones would grow back denser – prepared for the next attempt to snap them. They could, if they'd had the ambition, be great – but they were lazy.
Stolen novel; please report.
However, he wasn't complete in his confidence of all of this, when all was said and done. That warmth pouring off of her was like a light that shined on the storming blizzard inside of him. Forcing him look at it from another point of view. Hadn't he always risen up to protect people? His character in the minds of the others was wholly different from how he saw himself. Many called him a literal hero, he'd even been crowned one before an entire nation and had liked the feeling. He clutched at his head, torn between contradicting identities.
Am I going insane...? He thought. He said that he didn't care, but he'd saved an old man who'd been defending the memorial of his wife, that garden in Aurora. Because it was the right thing to do. Why? Because it made him feel good, he thought. Or... Because that man had deserved to be protected if only for displaying such strength of will, of faith. Still thought that, was hungry for that sensation of being celebrated. In essence, he did and did not care about the state of this city at the same time – splitting him uncomfortably. He would and would not be upset if it were ravaged.
“This is far too complicated.” He spat on the ground and faced her, drawing Aska from it's sheathe. Joining it in his left hand was that golden, ivory horn, materializing in his hand. The Gjallarhorn. “Turn around and bend over, I'm going to shove this up your ass. God, nature spirit, whatever you call yourself – all of this talk is a waste of time, I cannot lose.”
“It pleases me that you still have that.” Alyx smiled, showcasing exaggeratedly long canines in the process. Where Orpheus was refined and elegant in her mannerisms, this woman that looked so alike to her was wild and untamed, something primal. “You've no idea how much I've missed you. To find a real one through all the chaff spread about.”
Tyr wore a hard scowl on his face. One moment, she was threatening to kill him and wipe out the city, and the next she was looking at him with great familiarity. He was aware that perhaps she'd met another Tyr, many of them by the sounds of it, but one thing was clear to him. If one had asked him about his consideration for the masses, he might answer one way or another depending on the day or how he felt. But if asked if he enjoyed being played with, his answer would always be in the negative.
“Go.” Tyr turned his head and called out to the others. “Go to the gate and wait for my signal. Make sure you tell everyone how incredibly gallant and heroic I looked when I kicked the shit out of this godling filth.”
Not supposed to be here.
That positive wave of emotion and wholeness was replaced by a gnawing, a voice in the back of his head calling out with the stamping of ten thousands boots. Kill, reave, tear, destroy, break her down and hold the corpse of this 'nature spirit' up for the celestials as a message that soon he'd come for them. He'd climb their mountains and smash their halls to dust, gods were evil – they were the only evil in the universe – and Tyr hated them more than anything else.
“With due respect to your achievements, primus...” Sara said softly. “You are not among the individuals in this congregation that could toss about commands like--”
His blade was at her neck with such wild speed that she had no time to react. Her entire world receded until all she could see were those eyes, twisted and psychotic to match the warped scowl on his lips. They left, all of them. Except for Rafael and Daito, not cowed by the prince in the slightest, that pressure holding them down was gone. Replaced by something else, an itching sensation in the back of their skulls that almost assuredly was coming from Tyr.
Tyr could accept this. Men whom he trusted that might possess the ability necessary to survive what he was about to do. That light feeling in his soul had turned heavy again, but not necessarily to his detriment. The power was still there, even stronger than before, marred and blackened by something else. A hate he could not explain. Tyr was unfamiliar with the concept of hatred, he hadn't felt it since that day when Rufus had been killed right in front of him, and of course when his mother died.
Only twice in a life spanning beyond two decades, he didn't even hate Hastur, not truly. His attention now wasn't focused on the woman. It was drawn magnetically to the life bursting into being at her feet. Warped, wrong life. Imperfect. Flawed. Fat bulbs and stems, bright hues that had no place in the natural order, leaving him just enough space in his mind to wonder what was happening to him. Why? Why did he hate it so much? They were just flowers...
“Get out of my head!” He shouted at the woman. Tyr's face was twisted by the wrath but his eyes were streaming with tears. Caught between an obscene conflict of psyche like there were two minds overlapping in his own. Five and seven.
Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.
A heartbeat made of words, eyes in the gloom with slit iris' staring down at him. The sound of tens of thousands of eyelids opening up with a wet squelch and a visceral need to take need and thread until they were all tied shut again. To put them in their place.
There was a noise again, the sound of an object being displaced from it's position far beyond the speed of that which could be termed natural. Tyr was gone from Daito's view faster than the ground below him could shatter from his wild leap. Appearing less than a tenth of a second later, dozens of meters away to hammer an air splitting chop into the woman. A thunderclap, a roar of displaced wind and the cleaving of the ground beneath him.
Well alright... Daito threw up as many barriers as he could, shamisen in hand in an effort to protect the walls from the insane feat of strength. There was no magic whatsoever, this was all physical – with only the underlying hum of a forge beneath it all. A primus that had suddenly managed to adapt to his one purpose.
Alyx raised her hand and caught the blade, a haughty look on her face, observing the dim glow of the sword that shattered and remade itself so quickly until it was all a blur. Her other hand struck out, piercing into his chest and tugging his heart free with a cacophonous snapping.
“That's for waking me before my time here.” She smiled. “Symbolic, don't you think? A heart for a heart.”
“Never needed it.” Tyr grunted in discomfort, a scarlet torrent spraying from his mouth. “But I'll take yours, little lizard.”
Daito was no less stunned than Rafael. This went beyond even his understanding of power, Tyr felt completely different, and the woman was far beyond him even still. Daito had never been a true warrior, not like those monks from his village that gave their whole lives unto the will of the world and spoke only once every few years. He was, in human terms, an enchanter or a song mage – a rare breed. A lazy one, too, but he'd never cared. It had been decades since he'd seen one of her kind, and they were sworn never to harm humans in covenant with the primus', he'd obviously never fought one before.
That sound came again, the sound of a teapot left overlong on a range – a whistling howl. Tyr's head slammed into the woman's own, crushing his own skull and taking the bridge of her nose with it. The first time she'd bled, the first time that smug look had been wiped from her face. He didn't need a heart, and hadn't for a while. Lungs, kidneys, anything.
Tyr's body was a mass collective, an emulation of human processes, but none of it was necessary. A walking bag of meat with no purpose beyond giving him a physical shape.
“ASKA!” Tyr screamed, struggling against the force with wide eyes that none could call human, slit through the iris to match Alyx's and twisted with madness. The beating again, the noise of hammers clanging on a force, a whirring stamping of metal on metal. Ash, alive, erupting into an elongated pillar of sclera scalding crimson as it answered the call of its master.
The sword she'd so effortlessly held in her hand slid into her flesh, sloughing through skin and muscle to ring against her humerus with a steely twang. She roared, a trumpet like that of a beast, and Tyr responded with his own. Like animals they howled until the ground itself quaked with their fury. Leaving observers bleeding from eyes and ears, the two figures below slamming against one another with lightning speed.
Every punch, kick, headbutt, even the clamping of Tyr's jaws as he bit into the woman's bronze flesh broke the sound barrier. Claps and crashes enough to rattle the city itself. When she'd slapped his arm free in their blur of combat, the sword remained gripped in the limb, whistling around his side to take her in the flank. Another regrowing in it's place with a wet squelch, bringing two hands together to clap with enough force to split the eardrums of all observers.
He was doing it, but Tyr was far too lost in the insane need not to kill this god. He wanted to eat her, to spill her blood and fall to all fours and suck it up. His aspect raging around him, faith and the immutable belief that not a single being in existence could stop him if only he pushed himself.
“RAFAEL! DAITO!” Tyr called out. His face was contorted beyond human proportions, looking demonic, caught between pain and manic glee. “LEAVE NOW! SHOW US SOMETHING, GODLING! OPEN OUR EYES!”
Neither man lacked in pride. They hadn't stayed out of concern for Tyr himself, he was immortal – something that could not die, something unwhole and unnatural. But they listened, the latter clutching at the cloak of his friend and tugging him away in a blur of activity. Retreating to the periphery of Tyr's proto domain. A lunatic collection of fire mana that began to whip about and crack at the air again.
Before their very eyes, Tyr rocketed skyward, his sword acting as a lever by which he forced her upward. Up and up, a vapor trail beneath him roaring into existence as Alex struggled to tug the sword spitting her midriff free. Hissing something, her mouth was moving but they could not hear the words over the hissing scream of the fire. But Tyr heard it clearly. So close to her that he could smell the lilac scent of her breath and skin. All he could think about was the kill, feeling the wonder and awe of all those below pounding in his veins.
I... Tyr cackled, almost thankful that she'd woken from her long slumber and returned to join him on the surface – if only to be food for his apotheosis. Primus wasn't a goal he needed to chase any longer, there was something beyond that, and he was going to find it in her innards. Taking a piece of her flesh in his mouth and swallowing, deaf to her manic cries to stop.
He released her, pulling upwards on Aska with both hands to send her shooting further into the sky. She tried to escape, but he smothered her with his own spira. Far weaker than her own. It was amazing, this woman was all spira. Not an ounce of mana in her, it would only come out of a compulsion to fill the void that the presence of such dense world energy created. When he was certain they were far enough away from the others, fifty meters from the ground, he let loose the technique he'd been pouring the fire into since he'd first struck her.
The furthest he could reach with the fire dance, only a step away from the penultimate terminus of the crimson lotus.
“FIRE M--” A hand grabbed his throat. But it wasn't the woman's. It was larger, sturdier, sheathed in heavy armor. “Alexandros!” Tyr howled, turning to release the energy onto him instead, he who would stop him. This woman was weak, like a clay pot with only the dregs of an empty tap resting at the bottom of it. A vessel far larger than it's contents, but Alexandros was a primus. His half frozen frown entered Tyr's vision, joined by a swiping hand that smashed his head clean off his shoulders.
“Sorry, kid.” Were the last words he heard.
Below, all the others could see was the fleeting image of Tyr being swatted from the sky in an indistinct blur, replaced by a hundred aurora swathed swords storming into the form of the red woman.
Alexandros had arrived, and the skies screamed with his coming.