Chapter 71: Earth, Wind, and Fire (5)

1

Jonathan Harker.

If it was true that he was immortal, it was an extremely unfair Ability. They might as well stop fooling around, the being or beings who had set up this cosmic disaster, and declare their universe the winner of this war. Maybe that was precisely what those creatures from the sky had come to do.

Sylvester hoped he had some weakness, but he had no proof. It wouldn't be easy even if it existed. Otherwise, he would already be dead.

Moreover, his chances of surviving to find out were insignificant even with Harker's help.

With or without some secret Achilles' heel, his immortality left no room to doubt his claim. Of course, he would be the Emperor of humanity, of his humanity. How could they resist?

Whether they liked it or not, that man would control them. So they might as well give him power to avoid unnecessary tragedies.

For a being like him, the world would be a toy. There was only one word for that kind of being, and it wasn't immortal or Emperor.

God.

In his world, Jonathan Harker was like a God.

And he intended to kill him? As soon as they got out of here, as soon as they had a chance?

No...

He had no choice but to kill him. For the sake of the world as he knew it.

He watched Jonathan deal with the monsters around him without barely lifting a finger. Even if he retained his powers, he wasn't sure he could do the same so casually. He would give the monsters a good fight, but it would also be a good fight for him.

Jonathan didn't even seem to be sweating...

Why would he?

They couldn't kill him. Supposedly, no one could kill him. That nonchalance was the most natural thing in the world, seen that way.

Many died without him having to lift a finger, literally.

How did it work? If the Ability was just a matter of proximity, Sylvester would already be scattered on the ground in dozens of pieces, he had gotten much closer than any of the monsters.

In any case, dozens of them died without him having to do anything.

It didn't dent the number of monsters, it seemed nothing could, but it was still impressive and terrifying. A field of death surrounding him. Him, that man with cold eyes, who claimed he could come back to life no matter how many times he was killed.

While he couldn't die, he was the eye of a storm of death.

And that without talking about his sword, which moved with the fluidity of water. He couldn't say if he killed all the creatures with a single blow. That was because Sylvester could barely follow his movements with his eyes. He vaguely understood that if he had completely lost his powers, he wouldn't even be able to do that.

He had found a great ally, for once luck was on his side. Of course, sooner or later he would be his most dangerous enemy, but at least everything pointed to him getting out of this.

And he did.

Suddenly he found himself trapped inside a crystal prison with a honeycomb structure. He punched and slashed it several times, to no effect. He knew something strange was happening here, stranger than usual, when Jonathan tried and failed too.

"Did you do this? Reneging on our deal so soon?"

Anyone would doubt a guy they had met like five minutes ago, regardless of the circumstances. But it was irritating. What did he think this would achieve? He had agreed to stay close to him, for more than one reason this was just an inconvenience.

"No! Get me out of here!"

Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

If it was just a prison, then it would protect him from the creatures out there until Jonathan finished them all or found a way out somehow.

His life would be in danger soon, even more than before bumping into Jonathan, as he had no way to escape from whatever it was in here.

The space, dimension, or whatever it was changed again. In everything. Colors, shapes, sizes. Everything undulated and twisted into new configurations.

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While Jonathan lunged towards him, extending his free hand.

2

"Where is Sylvester?"

The Lunar Princess, as usual, didn't waste time. The question left her lips before landing softly next to both of them.

Cynthia had never expected her to care about them in the slightest, so it made no sense to get angry. In any case, seeing her as brutalized as they were or more, she lost the desire. She just swallowed hard. She had a lump in her throat. None of this was fair.

"I don't know. He went that way, but I don't know."

Heather looked her up and down. She didn't know what she was thinking, she never did. Maybe she was assessing her wounds, still covered by ice, slowing the bleeding in an unconventional and quite painful way. Or maybe she was thinking about something completely different. Maybe she didn't even see them.

She forced herself to stand up. Ryan was breathing heavily, Sylvester had torn him apart, but he was still alive. And he would recover. He had to recover. He hadn't returned to his human form, that was a good sign.

"I hope he doesn't remember anything when I save him. The world will always remind him of the innocents he has killed, but he doesn't need to know he hurt the people who really matter to him."

Not knowing why she was telling her this in the first place, Cynthia squirmed under her gaze, uncomfortable though she couldn't say why. Or rather, she didn't want to?

"Aren't you going to tell him what he did to you?"

"That's what I said."

"Why?"

Both had other priorities, but she felt the need to ask her that question anyway. And Heather felt the need to answer for the same reason, whatever it was.

"I love him, isn't it obvious?"

Cynthia didn't know how to respond to that.

"You must be thinking what does an inhuman monster like me know about love."

"Maybe you are, but I guess it only takes a spark."

"For both things."

"Both things?"

Cynthia thought for a moment.

"I understand."

She returned her gaze to the ice covering the wound. When she lifted it, she was gone. Her wings hadn't even made a sound. And, of course, she left no trace.

3

The crystal broke and everything changed again.

Finally, he could surface. He felt it from the first moment, that the air density was as it should be, that everything was in place again. At least for Sylvester, if not for the newcomer. With whom he found himself in free fall a second later through the night sky.

They had fallen from a hole at the top of that monstrous tree. Was it, let's say, a coincidence? If there was such an army of monsters on the other side, pulsating close in an adjacent dimension, why hadn't they crossed yet? Either they couldn't or they were in it, and if they managed, then...

He forgot everything else upon realizing the most important detail. In the alternate dimension, he had been defenseless, without his powers, but returning hadn't restored them. They had started to fade right here, at the beginning of this disaster.

Which meant he couldn't summon his black wings.

It was a long fall.

Before, he wouldn't have even twisted his ankle, now he would easily break his damn neck.

But Jonathan was falling with him, and he made sure to protect his repository of answers. Acting as if by instinct, he would say, he caught him in the air, turned him, and threw him onto one of the branches without much care. He broke some ribs with the impact, he was sure before feeling the blood rising in his throat. But better that than the damn neck.

He could do this alone. The branch he had thrown him onto like a sack of garbage wasn't even that far from the ground.

Sylvester took a deep breath.

He drove the sword into the trunk and slid down, landing on the ground not far from Jonathan. Well, he had nowhere to hide or distance to save him. He could cross that distance in less than a second.

As he did now. He appeared looming over him so quickly that he almost jumped back.

Jonathan wasn't paying much attention to him.

He was looking around, that is, at the city violated by alien beings, its trees and the monsters they spat out, with wide eyes. But for a very different reason than a normal person. He was anything but normal, that was clear.

"What is all this?"

When their eyes met, the stranger's face hardened, and he visibly made an effort to put that topic aside. In a way, the shock that penetrated his cold, dead, impassive mask satisfied him, even if it hadn't lasted long.

The man approached him step by step, gracefully like a panther.

"I want my answers."

"We're in the middle of a fucking war zone, man!" He was playing with fire. But the truth was the truth, damn it.

Those creatures, demonic insects, kept emerging from the tree en masse to massacre the population. To overwhelm and engulf all of humanity.

"Then give me the short version. And quickly. A deal is a deal."

The blade of the immortal's sword caressed his very, very mortal neck.

"Fuck, okay. There are many different worlds. That's why I don't know you, uh, your Imperial Majesty. And I don't know how, but now you're involved in a war between all those worlds."

If he had finished the sentence as he thought, that is, saying to see who is the last one standing, his head would have rolled on the ground the next instant. He had said practically the same thing, but this way it was more open to interpretation.

Sylvester wasn't good with words.

He was good at beating problems until they disappeared because that was the only thing he had done for a decade and because his powers had always allowed him to be far enough above those problems not to bother looking for another solution.

But now he had no power.

Now he was even sweating. He was cannon fodder, practically like any other human in this city.

What would he decide?

Slowly and gradually, Jonathan Harker moved the sword away from his neck, letting it fall. His expression hadn't changed a bit since the momentary surprise of, he imagined, seeing a civilization more advanced than his own.

"See? It wasn't that hard."

Jonathan turned his back on him carelessly again. Maybe it wasn't that hard, but Sylvester wasn't satisfied.

"I'll take care of this trash, and then you'll tell me the long version. I want to know what I'm up against."

His anger quickly replaced any trace of fear, sinking into the red rage, a familiar and comforting sensation, even in the middle of this hell on earth. Or especially, rather.

Sylvester gripped the sword handle until his knuckles turned white.

Until his hand began to tremble with barely repressed rage.

And then...

DO IT YOU CAN'T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH IT WE ARE THE HERO OF THIS STORY

Ah, yes.

Something had been missing. That voice, pushing him forward. That voice...

What voice?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Sylvester gripped the sword with both hands and stabbed Jonathan in the back. A precise and swift cut, hardly improvable, that pierced the heart and shattered it.

He died, of course.

But he didn't stay that way for long.

As blood dripped from the hole in his chest and slid between his teeth, Jonathan slowly and methodically turned his head to fix him with a gaze from a frozen hell.

"I already told you. I am Immortal."

Earth, Wind, and Fire (5): FIN