In the Oozing Bastion
Slothari watched through the eyes of a mosquito as her greatest foe in the last few eons tore across the realm at speeds that would have made her younger self pale in fear. At her current level of power, all she felt was anticipation.
Trailing behind Jonathan was the figure of one of her Uthraki prisoners’ siblings. She was salivating over the thought of using Tukar’s own form to trick his brother. It was the core of her elemental path’s expression, after all. If she could prove her mutation to be superior to the bond of flesh and blood that kept families together, she truly had achieved her goal.
“Pull back the defences. I want to deal with this myself,” she barked out to nobody in particular. Everyone within the nearest kilometer sprang to attention regardless, their enhanced senses picking up on their master’s whims.
Slothari rose into the air on pinions of twisted flesh, and her form warped into that of Tukar, reddish skin spreading across her body, and muscles forming beneath that skin. Then she flapped her wings once and flew out a window. She was a bit too large to fit, and tore apart the stone around her. That mattered little, not when she had a battle to fight.
She soared across the skies of Mire, and landed a few hundred miles away from Jonathan, banishing the wings. Then she split herself into a few clones, pretending that she was being chased, while in Tukar’s form.
The clones took the form of androgynous soldiers, clad in enough armor to occlude any sort of recognition. Hopefully, this would be enough to trick Hushar, and perhaps Jonathan. It mattered little either way, as their deaths would come no matter their response.
As Slothari crossed the plains, racing past cities and monsters alike, Jonathan spotted her on the horizon, a faint smudge being followed by a few more smudges. With the speed both of them were going at, the figure quickly came into view, and Jonathan let out an involuntary “Huh?”
The figure had red skin, and was about the right height for an Uthraki. The closer they got, the clearer the figure became. Jonathan heard a bellow of rage from behind him, and turned, just in time to see Hushar leaping forwards, his body wrapped in molten energy. That reaction confirmed what Jonathan had thought. The man rapidly approaching them was Tukar, and he was in trouble.
Behind him, five of Slothari’s soldiers raced across the ground, slowly catching up to their quarry. Only, something felt slightly off. Jonathan’s senses were telling him that the man sprinting across the plains towards them was Tukar, but the entire situation seemed unlikely. How had he escaped, while Slothari held dominion over the Oozing Bastion? And even if he had, why were only five soldiers following him?
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“Hushar!” Jonathan bellowed, reaching for more stamina to propel himself forth. However, whatever Hushar was doing to rapidly increase his speed was too potent, at least on the timescales involved, for Jonathan to catch up.
With a snarl, Jonathan thrust his left hand forth, and channeled his Divinity into it. Golden light sparked as his Rune of Attraction tugged at the world around it. Hushar was caught in the center of the maelstrom of conceptual energy, but his momentum was far too great.
As he neared the form of what Jonathan was increasingly sure was Slothari, Hushar’s face widened in a smile. “Tukar!”
“Brother? Is that you?” The fake Tukar called back, a smile of his own appearing. Then the smile widened, and widened, until it bisected his entire face. Hushar skidded to a halt, but it was too late.
The five soldiers vanished, and their power drained into the Uthraki racing towards Hushar. There was a blinding flash of light as the fake suit of flesh split apart, revealing a monstrosity of amalgamated flesh. Tentacles licked at the air, and horns stuck out from odd parts of the monster’s body. A mouth wide enough to swallow a man’s head whole took up most of the creature's face.
“Die!” it shouted, before driving one clawed hand into Hushar’s torso. Before it could do so, a spear of purple energy slammed into the hand, tossing it to the side with the crunch of breaking bones.
Jonathan’s third eye gleamed beneath his helm, the only thing that had saved Hushar from certain death.
The Uthraki leaped backwards, out of range of any casual strikes. Given that his opponent was the strongest being in this realm, that meant little.
“A pity,” Slothari crooned. “I enjoy it more when my talents can be put to their fullest use. No matter though. Domination in the field of battle is more than enough.”
“You clearly crave more than that,” Jonathan answered. “Why else would you wait so long to fight me? How hard it must have been to live for billions of years, undying, and unchanging. I represent a challenge, don’t I?”
A grimace flickered across the circle lord’s twisted face, but was gone in an instant. “You know not of which you speak, ant.”
Jonathan smirked. “Don’t I? Why are you so willing to banter, rather than erasing me from existence? Something like that should be an easy task. At least, according to you.”
A growl rose from Slothari’s lips.“Enough of this.”
Strands of elemental energy burgeoned around the circle lord’s hands, trailing from the claws that cut through the air. Slothari laughed, and tore her hands across the world, sending cracks spreading across reality. Pieces of mutation itself germinated, turning the air into flesh. Tentacles of suppurating skin and muscles lashed out, their speed so high that they cracked like whips. Compared to the elemental mastery of the Shard of Slothari, the real thing was far stronger.