Markus was a being of pure energy. That’s how he felt. Detached from his worries. Divorced from all concerns. His body was anger and vitriol and light, and the darkness he stood to purge quivered in response to his stolen strength.

No. Not stolen. Claimed.

And Markus had claimed this power for one sole purpose…

He reached out with broken blade, arm extended, leaping into the air once more. His glaive carved a solid line through the creature’s neck, causing yet more blood to spill from it, sizzling against the sand below as it fell.

Markus was power. The strength he held within him almost felt as if it should burn, but he was so thrumming with impossible energy that he could scarcely register pain.

He only felt adrenaline. A reason to keep attacking, to keep cutting into this thing, to push harder, to inflict more damage, even as he was repeatedly rebuked—his arm was broken in three places the last time it had shoved him away; he healed before he’d even reached it again.

Markus initiated another attack. He traded more blows with it. He was stronger and faster than he’d ever been before, by a wide margin, too, and with the Divine Mana at his disposal, he was able to breach the enemy’s defenses…

But this creature was still stronger. He hated admitting that. It took him so many repeated attempts and so many near-lethal injuries before he was finally able to accept that it was only the advanced healing factor his overcharge seemed to have brought about that was keeping him in this fight.

Every attack he weathered healed him right after it damaged him. The energy from the blow compounded with the injury, and the two cancelled each other out.

At first, there’d been no struggle. No pain. It’d been effortless to keep going. To keep carving through yet more of this monster, little by little, chopping and stabbing his way through its defenses and slowly exhausting it with each unfettered assault.

After his tenth time shattering his bones from the force of being smashed down into the sand by this immense titan, he was starting to recognise just the slightest bit of resistance forming within his body.

It wasn’t quite pain. Not yet. He still had plenty left to give.

Only…

Attacking the way he was didn’t seem to be doing enough damage. He had the durability and the speed to get on top of this thing and hit it, but in a question of endurance, it was beginning to look as if the worm would easily outlast him if this were to keep up too much longer.

Drathok continued to lend support with arrows and occasional melee strikes, but he was unable to penetrate the creature’s divine barrier. The element in its raw potency seemed to be a real dampener on his abilities as well as a major weakness of his, and Markus was becoming increasingly cognisant of that fact the more he witnessed the demon attempting to intervene.

And yet he still tried anyways.

Markus needed to think something up. He’d avoided using his abilities thus far, not wanting to incur whatever penalties his toxicosis would bring about for him and similarly aware that half of his powers wouldn’t even work with the level of Mana Poisoning he currently suffered.

But he needed to do something. Brute force wasn’t working.

The monster smashed yet another hole into the arena’s wall, causing yet more of the stands to crumble away and cave in on themselves.

It wasn’t compelled to attack Markus, nor Drathok. Without Randall here to corral it, it didn’t seem to be beholden to anything.

If it decided to leave, to inflict death and havoc upon the city…

Thousands might die before anyone else stopped it. Maybe good people. Not everyone here had to be a death-loving freak, after all…

Markus couldn’t have reservations in a moment like this. He needed to fight with his abilities, use his strengths.

He ran forwards and leapt into the air.

He imbued his weapon with Divine Mana as he cast [Triple Strike], stabbing three times against the monster’s throat and then following up with a fourth and fifth strike further up, immediately utilising Thrust King’s compound passive at the peak of his jump to activate a compound between [Acid Slash] and [Detonate] as he pushed his blade inside and tried to ride down the creature’s throat all the way to the ground.

Explosions ricocheted from the end of his blade for but a second, but began to stall as his blade became stuck around five feet from his initial point of entry, snagged against a hard, immovable scale that dug into his arm.

He attempted to drain the creature some more from where he dangled, but he was launched off into the sand below before he could take more than a drop of life from the bastard thing.

He attempted to spring back to his feet as he had before…

But he felt dizzy.

Vertigo.

Nausea.

His head didn’t like what he’d just done…

He felt a hand grasp his. He was being yanked back to his feet.

Drathok withdrew his hand with a wince and a rising tinge of smoke, as if burned by Markus.

Drathok stared at him as the worm writhed and shook in place, the blood flowing freely from its burnt neck beginning to slowly cessate, almost as if it were intentionally clotting it, the tissue becoming increasingly necrotic and still with each passing moment.

It was beginning to cope with its injuries.

And Markus’ were all too quickly beginning to catch up.

It was sheer vicissitude.

“Hey,” Markus said as he was pulled up, as he stared at the horrible motherfucking thing which was at least halfway through recovering already. “Was there a plan for killing this thing? Something you were gonna do before I decided to turn around and throw myself in the hole with you?”

“That,” Drathok said, pointing at a cylindrical object on the floor that somewhat resembled a fucking bazooka. “I was going to try to stop it with that. Or at the very least, slow it down.”

“And that is?..” Markus asked as Drathok floated the strange object closer, noting how many runes were grafted all over it.

“A mana cannon,” Drathok answered.

Great. He was right. A fucking mana cannon.

That sounded dope.

He snatched the thing from midair immediately.

He immediately felt a presence within. As if the weapon itself had attached itself to him, its runes glowing right and blue.

“Okay… how the fuck do I use it?”

“You force your mana into the cylinder and then fire it out of the end. Ideally, you hit your target, too.”

Yup. Sounded like a cannon alright.

“Using it is a death sentence,” Drathok continued. “These weapons are imperfect, and it will continue to take from you until you die. Once you begin to feed it mana, it will only continue to continuously drain you until—”

Markus ignored him, aiming the bazooka and firing a beam of golden light right at the worm like it was a fucking gatling laser.

He smirked as he immediately cut the beam off. His capacity had dipped by about 200%. His heart ached a little.

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“Hey! What were you saying?!”

Markus wasn’t being facetious. He literally couldn’t hear shit over the sound of the cannon firing.

And the worm had a new hole in its chest. It looked… angry.

“Mana manipulators…”

“Drathok?!” Markus yelled through his ringing ears. “You were telling me something about how this thing works? Right?”

“I… just do that again!”

Markus blinked. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yes!”

“You’re sure?”

“JUST SHOOT IT.”

Well, shit. Didn’t need to tell him twice.

Markus loaded up the cannon with more Divine Mana and fucking fired.

Boom. Hit that thing square in the… was it the chest? He’d called it a ‘chest’ in his mind just now. It was a long draconic worm. At some point the front of it had to stop being its neck, right? Or was it all neck?

Body?

Markus shot it in its body. Each shot used anywhere between 50 and 200% of his Divine Mana depending on where he cut off the charge-up. It didn’t take very long at all to get to that point.

Drathok seemed astounded at his results. He supposed that watching someone shoot divine power from a fucking cannon probably looked pretty impressive.

Markus watched as the worm finally bridged the gap between them and attempted to slam down on top of him.

His first instinct was to jump back, but it wasn’t happening. He wasn’t locked in place, but this thing started to feel incredibly heavy as soon as it was time to start moving, almost as if it wanted you to just stand in place and fire it repeatedly until you were done.

It was impossible to dodge properly. Markus took the strike full-on.

…he barely remained standing. He had a Giant’s passive to thank for it. Guardian. A passive that specified a Constitution increase while standing within a small area for a long time as its sentinel, with its bonus increased if he were standing near an ally or protecting one.

…did Drathok count as an ally, now?

Questions for later. Right now, Markus needed to keep fucking blasting this thing.

It wasn’t just Divine Mana he was shooting out. There was an abundance of Life and Blood Mana flowing from the cannon with each shot he beamed at the opposing entity, and he could feel the Spirit Mana mixed in…

This weapon was indescriminate. He could control the tide, control the cutoff of how much it took, but it took from everywhere and anywhere. Trying to manage for what kind of energy it would use to fund his next attack was almost impossible.

He was starting to make a real dent in the worm, starting to slow it. It was becoming sluggish and attacking with a lesser frequency, to the point that Drathok even managed to deflect a couple of its strikes with well-timed barriers…

But Markus’ migraine was only growing stronger and more intolerable with each shot he fired. It started to get to the point where Markus felt as if he were being shot by the beam every time he fired it, as if it were driving a needle point through his fucking skull…

He knew he needed to keep going. He knew he needed the thing dead…

He ignored the part of his body telling him to stop. The scared part. The part that told him this was too much to handle. He disowned that part of him. He needed solidarity, and with each push of his power into this weapon, with each new shot in the barrage of blows he peppered and blasted this abomination with, the more his brain began to straighten into a solid, single-minded focus…

Even as it was collectively turned further and further into insipid mush.

He was falling apart just as fast as the enemy. He’d fired so much of his energy into it, he’d pushed so fucking hard to get to this point…

Had it all been for nothing? Were his feelings about what he gave out into the world and who he defined himself as simply stupid, childish naivety? Should he have listened to his father? To himself? Did he really think that doing this changed anything, that it made anything better?

No. Markus fired again. Even when it felt like splintering his soul into fragments to do so, Markus collected the tattered pieces off of the floor, forced them together with a grit adhesive and fucking fired again, because there WAS no alternative. There was no trying again. No running away. No quitting.

No being anything else than what he was.

He’d chosen to stand and fight. He would have no regrets. There was no space for that where he was now.

Scary that it takes such a calamitous moment to cut through the bullshit that defines you, that you let define you, that you can shred in order to define yourself.

Markus shot his demons in the fucking face. No matter how many times they came. No matter how many times it hurt.

His spirit was hanging by a thread… there wasn’t much power left within him…

The worm was barely still going either. It’d leaned down into the floor, its body drooping and its head pushing against the sand as its body slowly pulsed.

If only he could move. If only…

He felt the compulsion from the cannon to fire again.

He supposed he had no choice.

He raised his arms.

Drathok smashed the weapon out of his hands. Drathok screamed out from the contact, loud and visceral.

“Wh-what the…”

Markus immediately slumped to his knees. He hadn’t realised it until now, but his conduit with the cannon had been the only thing holding him up. He felt so weak. His head was swimming…

He felt a hand press against him. Drathok screamed.

Markus felt new energy flowing into him.

Life Mana. Blood Mana. Spirit…

Shock. Flame.

This was…

This was Drathok’s…

“Wh-what the fuck are you—”

He wasn’t getting an answer. Drathok screamed unabated as he continued to touch against Markus’ skin, still so heavily effused with Divine Mana, Drathok’s clear kryptonite.

Still his enemy pushed through that to rejuvenate him, to give him the energy to still stand, to give him the strength to push through his limits and finish this creature, an enemy he knew he couldn’t face alone.

He helped Markus as Markus had helped Ember. The same screams had left Markus’ lips when he’d pressed his hand to her back like a fucking hamburger on a grill in an attempt to heal her, not knowing whether she’d thank him for it or turn around and end his existence.

Now Drathok was putting that same trust into him, placing his energy and his power into a person who had every right and reason to hate him, who had every justification in wanting to see him dead and gone…

Fuck you… how could he put me in a position like this? How could he…

The monster reared with a groggy determination, attempting to strike him once more, attempting to crush both him and Drathok both.

Ember blocked this one.

And then another.

She wouldn’t be here if not for what he’d done. Wouldn’t be here to protect him.

He wouldn’t be here if not for Serena.

Wouldn’t have another another chance to have a crack at this thing if not for Drathok…

Markus began to feel clarity return to him as he stood upon shaky feet, feeling Drathok give out beside him, dropping to one knee.

He kept his shoulders straight. Didn’t slump. Even in such dire circumstances, he kept grace.

Markus could honour him and do the same.

He walked forwards. Limped.

Well, maybe not grace…

But he could do his damn job at least.

His mind raced as he approached the monster. It was aware of him. Attempting to reposition itself to avoid his attack.

But it was slow. It was barely still able to move. His cannonfire had been enough to cripple it heavily.

Still, he knew how little damage his other attacks had caused it.

He needed something big if he was gonna make this work.

Something fitting. Something that would push him over the edge…

He sought out his glaive as he walked. Still within the monster’s chest. He’d reach and he’d jump for it.

But first…

Markus began rolling for a new skill.

A compound skill.

Now. In the highest stage of Overcharge he’d ever been, with his stats so incredibly juiced that he knew they’d shift the balance towards what result he rolled immensely.

[Combining Triple Strike, Acid Slash, and Baleful Strike to learn new compound skill. 2% chance of Common Compound Skill, 13% chance of rare, 20% chance of epic, 30% chance of legendary, 5% chance of Transcendent, 2% chance of—]

“Yes,” Markus said, dismissing the text box. He didn’t care. He’d take whatever the fuck he got and use it to end this monster.

He felt the new ability twisting and materialising in his brain as the previous powers melded together into something entirely new.

It was something foreign to him. Unintelligible. How could he use this?

[Mana Manipulation overwrite. Transcendent ability transponded to compatible unique ability of similar origin.]

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Now this new skill was a part of him.

And he understood it as it did him.

He could use it. He could feel it within him. Within his core. It was begging to be utilised.

Markus jumped for the glaive still embedded within the draconic worm’s body. Put all of his strength into that jump, into what came next.

He reached it. He pulled the weapon out as he sailed through the air, screaming in determination, in defiance, in pure, unmitigated rage.

He reached the peak of his ascent. Sailed inches from the creature’s face…

Markus activated [Fuck You].