A cornered beast always proved the most dangerous. In their final moments, all limitations were removed as they were whittled down to the most basic desire of every living creature; the simple goal of survival. Whilst Arthur was no hunter, he was intimately familiar with the failure brought on by being too hasty; a counter strike when he'd thought he'd won the fight had put him on the canvas far too many times for him to make the same mistake today. Not when the stakes were so high.
Arthur watched grimly as the Ghoulish Skinwalker got back to his feet. He looked dazed, though far less than he would have expected from someone who'd just had the upper fifth of their skull sliced off. When he noticed no one was about to attack him, Frankenstein straightened up, his apparent weakness disappearing like morning dew in the sun. Arthur adjusted his grip on his spear and shook the tension from his left leg. He hesitated for a second before dismissing the soul armaments from his shins.
Frankenstein knew what to expect now and Arthur didn't want to waste his limited energy on a trick that wouldn't work twice.
"So you're the one Mira tried to give my token to," Frankenstein rasped.
His voice sounded like he was a heavy smoker who'd just had surgery done on his throat. Arthur didn't know if he normally sounded like that or if it was because he'd punched half the guy's jaw off.
It was the first time the creature had spoken to him and Arthur could tell he was trying to stall for time. Arthur complied with the monster's wishes anyway. Time was his ally too; every moment of delay was an extra second for his teammates to get back on their feet. Rykah appeared to have recovered completely, and Benjamin groaned as he sat up, coughing up a mouthful of blood as his broken ribcage healed. Iris didn't look too good, but at least she was conscious.
The seer had warned him to attack the monster before he 'switched.' Arthur hadn't known what she meant at the time, but whatever the case, it was too late now. The ether Frankenstein had been building up since his last magical attack seemed to have reached an appropriate threshold and his spell activated. It wasn't an attack of any kind- Arthur could tell that much, else he'd have been a lot more concerned- all the magic was focused internally instead of externally.
The switch was instantaneous. One moment an old human male stood before him, looking like he should've dropped dead a long time ago with the extent of his injuries and the next second, a massive Dire Orc stood there. Arthur recognised the species from his time in the final layer of the Locus of Power. The change had happened so fast that Arthur hadn't seen anything, even with his considerable agility and intelligence. The Dire Orc was a huge creature, a true behemoth of a monster, all brawn and muscle, standing at just over eight feet in height and weighing north of six hundred pounds. Before, Frankenstein had donned the guise of a human, trying his best to integrate with the native species of Earth. Now clearly, the monster's priorities had shifted.
I should have seen this coming, Arthur thought wryly. It made sense that a space mage who was also a parasitic possessor of corpses would have a magical storage containing their arsenal of body suits. It's like a magical armoury, except... disgusting and horrifying instead of cool. It was a small consolation that changing bodies clearly took a prohibitive amount of energy or else the Ghoulish Skinwalker would be a far more terrifying opponent. Arthur suspected the ability came with a few other limitations and certainly had a long cooldown period. Powerful skills cost more than just ether.
Thankfully, the damage Arthur had dealt to the monster's true flesh with his soul-infused kick seemed to have carried over. Frankenstein had only been in this new form for a few seconds and already his new right arm, which had been perfectly fine, was now a shrivelled up twisted limb that hung uselessly on the Dire Orc's body. It looked like the thing would fall off with a little tug, which Frankenstein confirmed seconds later when he ripped the dead flesh from his shoulder.
His very soul no longer had a right arm and the physical form was always a reflection of the soul. It was quite literally impossible for any body Frankenstein possessed henceforth to have a right arm. The same principle applied to those born without a limb as opposed to those who lost theirs later on in life from an accident or illness. The System's arrival and the awakening process corrected genetic defects and those bodily processes connected only with the physical form. It didn't heal the soul.
If he was being technical, such perceived defects weren't even considered as damage to the soul since they had existed since its inception; it was merely the origin state of one's soul. Healing the body with ether simply used the soul as a template and returned someone to what was supposed to be their perfect state. The same principle applied when someone who'd had plastic surgery done was healed, they were returned to their original form without any of their cosmetic changes. Arthur bitterly recalled how so many men and women had come to the hospital for magical treatment, thinking the System had made a mistake in their awakening process and missed out on their recovery. Turning away a blind girl who'd never seen the beauty of the world when he had magical healing at his fingertips had not been an easy task.
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With practice, though, I should be able to deal with those kinds of injuries. It would take years, decades even, but it was one of the main reasons why practitioners of soul magic were so highly sought after across the vast multiverse. Other treatment methods existed for those types of injuries, some almost indistinguishable from soul magic, but people liked the real thing. Back to the fight at hand, Arthur had crippled Frankenstein in a way the monster would perhaps never recover from.
"I hate your types the most," the skinwalker growled, glaring at Arthur, "so naïve and dumb. It makes me sick."
The monster's voice contained a vehemence that spoke of deep hatred and irreconcilable issues. Arthur was certain the monster was projecting someone else onto him when he said those words. He hadn't done enough to piss off the monster that much. Had he? Arthur's silence only seemed to incense the creature further.
"Look at you. So comfortable on your throne of talent and potential. So arrogant," Frankenstein whispered. "One day, your talent will dry up, your potential shall fade away and your throne will crumble. On that day, we shall see eye to eye."
"If that day comes, you won't be alive to see it," Iris replied for him, as she walked over to stand at his side, her working hand stemming the bleeding from her ruined arm whilst Arthur's stored healing magic worked overtime to fix it. Her voice was strong and powerful, completely at odds with her vulnerable appearance. In her eyes, Arthur could see a spark of rage he'd never seen before, and for some reason, Arthur didn't think it had anything to do with her missing limb.
"I am a seer and I will see my vision made manifest, even if I have to wring it from the hands of fate itself. She practically shouted the words, her rage such that she was almost heaving for breath.
"A filthy mongrel like you will not live to see ANYONE fall low. Your life ends before nightfall. I promise you that."
Something's happened, Arthur concluded. In the minute since she lost her arm, she either heard or saw something that pissed her off enough that she no longer cared who she was facing or that she may lose her life. Just what was it? Is Lady Sleyca pulling some bullshit or is it the System?
"Ah, Fatebreaker's daughter. Want to follow in Daddy's footsteps? Frankenstein mocked. "The soul mage I dislike for his innocence and stupidity. Your kind, however, I truly loathe," Frankenstein growled.
Seeing the shock on Iris' face, the skinwalker grinned.
"Ah, was I not supposed to say that out loud? See, that's what I hate about your kind. So arrogant that you think your friends are too dumb to realise that a soul mage is amongst them. What will you do? Permanently silence them. It's too late for that. Every eye in the Stellar system is on that kid. What? Did you think you could keep him a secret or something? Please, I thought the healer over there was that idiot mascot of the group."
Iris' skin rapidly paled. For the first time since he'd met her, the powerful seer looked truly shaken. Benjamin, who by now had recovered enough to stand, looked at Arthur with a complex expression on his face; surprise, vindication, acceptance and... fear.
"I guess that explains why everything's been pushed ahead of schedule," Iris finally said.
She swore loudly and in a rare display of frustration, she lost control of her aura. It was only for a brief moment, less than a second even, but it revealed a hidden depth to her power that left Arthur rattled, almost afraid even.. She's been pulling her punches all this time, hasn't she? Why? The quality of Iris' aura outstripped anything he'd felt from a sapient being, perhaps even his own. She's the daughter of one of the strongest beings in the universe, fae-royalty. Is her class truly limited to legendary? She never told me anything, did she? I just assumed it was.
Today was a day of revelations it seemed, and this time, it was Frankenstein who didn't look too pleased with the surprise of Iris' true power. The Dire Orc's face twisted in a humourless smile and Arthur could see a hint of madness in the creature's gaze. Arthur was reeling. So much had happened in the past thirty seconds, he didn't know how to feel. His greatest secret, the one thing that made him incredibly valuable across the universe, his soul affinity, had been revealed, Iris had been hiding her true power all this time, and a critical event of some kind had been brought ahead of schedule.
"Ah, I guess it's my time to play the fool now," Frankenstein chuckled. "I should have seen it coming. Now that you know what's happening, it makes sense that your limiters have been lifted."
He turned to stare at Arthur.
"Still, it's a shame. I would have loved to see the chaos brought forth by the birth of an origina-"
That was as far as he got. Iris waved a hand and Arthur's instincts screamed at him to flee. There was an eruption of energy- Arthur wasn't sure if he could even call it ether- and Frankenstein was engulfed in black flames. They burned, hot or cold, Arthur couldn't say. Reality itself seemed to struggle to define its presence. A split second later, the fire disappeared, having burnt through its fuel.
In the mere blink of an eye Frankenstein was gone. Dead. Erased from existence itself. The only identifier of his presence was a hole in space... where reality itself had been burned.
What in the world just happened?