Perspective: Nitocris
Slash. Dodge. Repeat. Slash. Dodge. Repeat. My sword blazes with holy fire, each swing meeting steel or piercing flesh. The invincible beasts Leviticus summoned are thankfully relatively slow, and even with their huge magical advantage, the crimson cultists simply cannot deal with so many adversaries at once.
I glance over at Barbatus to see he has finally reached Leviticus, their swords making sparks fly. There's no way that old man can defeat Barbatus in a head-on clash. He's done for!
"Gift of Sword: Unerring Blade!" Barbatus's sword swings down onto Leviticus with tremendous force. Somehow, though, Leviticus blocks it.
"Impossible!" Shouts Barbatus. "No material can possibly withstand Unerring Blade!"
"Thaumium cannot be fractured by a being as weak as yourself!" Shouts Leviticus. Barbatus is forced to retreat backwards as Leviticus releases a flurry of attacks.
Shit! We have to do something soon!
Perspective: The Thaumaturge
It feels like I have been fighting off Archons for hours, and have barely gained ground on the Demiurge. Another Archon approaches me, its form composed of some impossible geometry. My goggles of revealing show it to be a sort of twelve-headed lion. It roars at me, but its voice does nothing. If I analyzed the attack correctly, that would make a normal human become paralyzed. However, my physiology is not human. My flux would not have prevented that, as it was produced by the creature's biology and not by some sort of magic. I summon spectral chains from the ground to bind the lion creature using my gauntlet, and have the chains strangle it to death. Enough of this pointless fighting! This ends now!
Before I can act, however, I feel a familiar presence appear behind me. Now, of all times!? I spin around in the air.
"Ananiel!"
"Silence, heretic. Surely you did not think one of God's creations could be killed so easily?"
"I wasn't counting on it. You surely picked an inconvenient time to appear, however..."
Perspective: Paul
As Nitocris and Barbatus fight Leviticus, I notice something has appeared directly next to the Thaumaturge. "What the hell is that!?"
Everyone in the crowd turns around, also sensing the immense pressure the thing gives off.
"Ananiel!" Shouts Leviticus. "We have no time for this skirmish! We must retreat back to the Emptiness before the Thaumaturge uses Nefarium!"
The crimson cultists all retreat towards the direction of the Thaumaturge. "We can't stay here much longer!" Shouts Barbatus, running up to me. "I have a bad feeling about this! Take us back before my soldiers perish in vain!"
"You're right. We need to leave," I agree. I begin opening the portal back to Barbatus and Nitocris's home world.
Perspective: The Thaumaturge
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leviticus and the crimson cultists running towards me. I open a flux rift beneath them leading back to the tower. They all fall in it. The Demiurge and his forces have begun backing off.
"Ananiel, why do you hunt me? Why does God feel the need to directly intervene?"
"You have killed too many to count. Your crimes are innumerable!"
"I loathe what I do every day. Do you not think I hate myself? Do you not think I have not begged for forgiveness every day?"
"Then why do you continue? Why don't you give yourself up to God's will!?"
Stolen story; please report.
I think on this for a moment. "Answer me this, angel. You know I have the power to traverse through time, and therefore you also surely know that the future is set in stone; I cannot change my actions in the future and I cannot change the outcome of the past. So why blame me? It could be reasonably argued that my actions are not my own! What I choose to do next cannot be altered by a change of heart or a convincing argument."
"You are wrong. You can change the course of history. You're dead-set on believing everything that happens is out of your control, but it's not. The future you are walking down will never come to pass if you change right now!"
"...I'm sorry it has to be this way. There is no redemption for me now." I socket Nefarium into my gauntlet and cast it.
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The world weeps. The very fabric of reality cries out in agony as cruelty incarnate is released from the hand of the misguided.
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The sky ignites in brilliant purple fire. I look back to see the miscreant gods escaping through a portal with their armies at the last second before the wave reaches them. A huge portion of the Demiurge's army is annihilated, but he and his Archons manage to escape. The many-eyed, winged body of Ananiel lies before me, screaming in pain.
"All things emit vis, and Nefarium uses vis as fuel. As an angel, I suppose you can't truly die, but that also means you will never stop producing vis. Immortality, in this case, is a curse. Goodbye, Ananiel." Now, to find Merlin.
I fly around a bit before spotting the charred corpse of Merlin and The Rebis. It is a shame. The Rebis was truly my most powerful creation. Perhaps I will make another in the future. I search the pockets of Merlin's cloak, feeling for his prized possession. There it is. Now in the palm of my hand sits a small handful of bread. God's bread. The manna. Power incarnate.
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Perspective: Paul
I breathe heavily, barely outrunning the wave of purple energy the Thaumaturge released. "What the hell was that!?" I ask. I took us to the small cabin I found them residing in when I first met them.
"No idea," pants Caterina. "I'm glad we got out of there regardless." I look over to Barbatus, who has a mortified look on his face.
"He killed... nearly half of our soldiers..." He stutters. He clenches his fist, and his eyes ignite with an insurmountable wrath.
"Well," I start, "we know what we're dealing with now. And we-" Before I can finish, I am cut off by the appearance of a translucent humanoid before us. We all jump back.
"No need to be frightened!" It reassures. "I am the Demiurge. I am not here to hurt you."
"You're that guy that appeared after us, right?" Asks Nitocris.
"Yes, I am. I'm here because I've realized that we share a common interest. We both want to kill the Thaumaturge. However, it's been made abundantly clear that even with our combined power, we stand no chance of defeating him. That's not to say that we expected the slayer of Tetrax to go down easily."
"Tetrax... I've heard that name before," says Barbatus. The Demiurge looks intrigued. "An old clan of monks from our world passed down a legend of an extremely powerful warrior who was enslaved by a magician."
"That about sums it up," says the Demiurge. "It would seem that the rumors about Jack escaping into your world were true. I'm surprised he managed to survive and escape the war."
"War?" I ask.
"I suppose it would be helpful to explain to you what we're dealing with here."
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I've never approved of spells that grab souls passing on or even souls from their native worlds and drag them to the caster's. I've always thought it akin to slavery, which is why I never allowed my council of gods to grant our world that power, or even allowed them to do it themselves. I didn't always think like that, though. Ten thousand years ago, I was a relatively young god. I was about 70 years old at that point, and had not yet created any Archons. Someone from my world, I believe a mortal, started casting a spell to summon a "hero" that could save the mortals from the impending threat of a necromancer who was rising rapidly in power. They of course knew that the spell trapped a random person's soul and brought it there against their will, but the magic caster didn't care. What they didn't know was that six others from other realities had a similar idea, and cast their spells at the same time. All on the same poor soul. The Thaumaturge. The strain was too much, and his soul was split into seven pieces. Not only does this increase his spiritual power immensely, but it lets him use the magic he uses. See, normally when a mortal or god tries to learn... whatever he uses, they go insane. But it's like his fractured soul is a perfect sort of "heat sink" for insanity. He was powerful before, but now that he has the literal power of god in his hands... he's unstoppable.
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We stand in silence, processing what the Demiurge just said.
"So what was that wave of purple energy he unleashed?" Asks Barbatus.
"We believe he calls it Nefarium. It's a spell that kills all life within a reality, and if any of its residual energy gets through any sort of gateway, it spreads to that reality as well."
We are all horrified. "So just how much more powerful did this splintering make his soul?" I ask.
"...Well, let's see. It's a little-known fact, but the energy your brain produces is actually the maximum power your soul can produce in the physical world. I believe that's about 100 watts. The average human could, if they were spiritually aware enough, power a lightbulb at the cost of their cognitive functions. But his soul is different. If I had to lowball it, I would say his brain can produce seven to the power of seven times that amount. If he wanted to, he could probably destroy an entire civilization using his spiritual power alone. That's not to mention his immense physical strength. According to old records kept by Odin, the stuff making up his body is about as dense as human flesh, and he can output energy at 100% efficiency using his own body mass as energy. His punches literally carry as much energy as is in his arm. Do you know how much that is? A single punch from him could make a small army explode into gore. And-"
"Alright, we get it," I say. "So what's your plan to kill him?"