Sins. Our search was futile. Nine. There are only nine that matter, yet I only found one when it no longer mattered.

He has no name. No face. And no time.

It is only an Ego. Should you see him, you are already dead.

As am I.

* Legate Reichter’s last words, scrawled with crazed blood upon his diary’s cover, Year 3787.

On a negative floor of Lightjar, a man’s fist dedicated itself to the meaty skull of another, beating it inward until the body underneath ceased its convulsions. Then, with a roar of pent-up fury, Lucius drove his knuckles one more time into the corpse, blood splattering across his face.

He stood, panting, the weight of frustration and exertion pressing on his shoulders. The Martian tilted his head back, drawing in ragged breaths, his boots slipping on the blood-slick floor. He stumbled, regaining his balance with a grunt.

The surrounding hallway was a graveyard. Bodies littered the space, the remains of prisoners he’d beaten to death. While grateful for the power loss, Lucius knew better than to imagine it was a coincidence.

A place such as this... losing power? Either planet-wide war, or... One of ‘them’ is here. One I can’t deal with on my own.

The Martian’s innards boiled with the fervor to kill another two dozen, but a soft voice behind him immediately took his attention, “Lucius? Can I come out now?”

Lucius glared back, his eyes circled with a cerulean bloodshot. The sight of Archimedes standing behind the alloy door drained away his bloodlust. With the young boy’s innocence in mind, the former soldier loosened his stance, hiding the savage act he’d just committed.

He, instead, acted as if nothing was wrong in the slightest.

He pretended as though he hadn’t just slain twenty-four people—because, to him, there was nothing wrong. They were, in his eyes, sinners. Rapists. Murderers. Traffickers. They deserved those deaths.

The soldier had looked past enough in his long life. He refused to let such things go unnoticed any longer. His priority, however, was the boy imprisoned where he should not have been.

“Yeah, come toward my voice,” Lucius called calmly, realizing that API couldn’t see in the pitch-blackness of the prison. But Lucius could. Martians were the apex of human engineering, the peak of their madness. He fulfilled his duty by guiding Archimedes through the dark.

Archimedes slipped on the unseen blood a mere step later, however, yelping in panic. Lucius caught him in time, steadying the young man as he trembled. The boy stared up at nothing in the dark, unable to see even his own nose.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. Come, we’re leaving this place,” Lucius said, his voice low but steady. He ushered Archimedes toward the steel door at the end of the hallway, its lock disabled from the power loss.

Without the power, Lucius only had to be strong enough to rip open the door without its hydraulics, which was a test not even worth taking. His muscles bulged with a moment’s force, and the steel submitted.

A second later, they both stood below a staircase. Elevators required power, and Lucius wouldn’t risk climbing an open shaft with Archimedes on his back.

Through the gloaming, Lucius continued to guide the young man upward and out of the depths of the third floor underground. Few Seafarers were held here, but it was enough to worry one would break through the defenses without power.

A hundred stairs passed by the two of them, with the twiggy adolescent struggling beyond the second set. Still, they couldn’t stop so soon. As such, Lucius cursed before picking up API and tossing him onto the Martian’s shoulder.

From there, Lucius sprinted up the stairs, climbing at a pace that put even some Seafarers he had met to shame. The Lightsea was a tool that millions possessed amongst trillions. The physiology of a Martian without dimensional influence?

Thousands within trillions. Stone caved beneath his bare feet, and the young man howled in terror at the sudden movement, “Wait! Wait! I can’t see! Stop! Stop!”

As they needed to escape more than Isaac’s nausea mattered, Lucius flowed like greased lightning, completing the remaining eighty stairs in a blistering four seconds. Once at the top of the stairs, he set API down and then kicked in the door, blowing the unpowered steel off its clasps.

The metal, with a slight imprint of a foot, whipped open wildly, revealing to Lucius and Archimedes a scene of utter destruction. The young man finally relieved his insides while the Martian wiped his brow and strode forward.

Tens of corpses lined the walls, with dimly lit fires raging in several of the cells. Neg-Two had some dangerous criminals, such as those of the Lake instead of the Sea indicator, like Lucius and Archimedes. The monsters that skulked in the dark were harmful, especially so for those without weapons.

As Lucius’ keen eye scraped over the carcasses and their injuries, denoting each mark and wound, his mind fell to a conclusion.

Though, little Isaac was faster with his stutter, “An—an—an Anaphage. May—be higher. Can you k—k—kill an—an—Anarchy, Mr. Waters?” Archimedes’ voice wobbled, a sign that he was about to have an episode. Mr. Waters, as the boy called him, pulled his lips into his mouth, biting them together tight.

He’s on the money, but I think he’s short of credit. It’s not an Anachronism, though. I don’t see the remnants that they would leave behind. Sure, there’s fire, but nothing... more bizarre. No water, snow, or mist. Anarchy, but not singular. Two? Yeah. That’s probably accurate. Good enough for me.

The eighty dead inmates provided enough evidence for the retired soldier to figure out his prey. He understood the strength of these beings profoundly. If released, Anaphage could kill hundreds over the course of a few hours. All these rough criminals, however, would overpower one or two of them.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

A Dirge child, evolved from an infant, would fare better with so many opponents, but a struggle was still assured. Perhaps even some ichor on the ground. Since there were no injuries on the Dirge’s side…

Lucius’ instincts told him it was likely to be two.

Silently creeping forward, Lucius urged API onward to keep their noise below the sound of crackling flames. As they advanced, a groan caught the Martian’s attention, hardly audible to his prospecting ears. With a glance, he confirmed they were an inmate, and so he ignored their pleading gaze with an inward curse.

To Hell with you.

They crept forward, the crackling of flames the only sound between them. Whatever had caused this destruction was moving higher. Lucius cracked his knuckles, eager for what lay ahead. The creatures only wanted to go higher.

That meant, to Lucius, they crawled out of the Lightsea inside here. Even further...

He possessed experience. He hadn’t fought a plethora of Dirge, but he knew their strengths.

Anathema. If it was any higher, the planet would already be toast. Not good. Not impossible, though. I just need to get him out of the city. Outrunning one is doable if it doesn't have a proper Domain.

Lucius’ mind considered his options while they walked, and a minute later, they reached the next door. The trembling fires and ascended smoke made it hard for both to breathe, but they shared a curt nod before Lucius burst through.

He entered the next hallway, not surprised in the slightest to find a creature waiting for him. It stood on two gangly legs and hunched over with its bulging, veiny, muscular arms. It was headless, possessing a mouth inside its chest instead of the more conventional locale, and the first thing that Lucius met was its howl of horror.

The winds knocked Archimedes onto his ass, the young boy crying in terror. More and more gusts swept away tears until the creature ceased its roar, realizing it had no effect on the soldier.

Archimedes, teary and trembling, unable to say a word, observed like an emotional machine, every input etching itself permanently into his mind as two beings sized each other.

Lucius Waters, six-foot-eight and a mountain of muscle, against the extra-dimensional entity with twice his weight an two whole heads greater. Chomping sounds echoed alongside the illuminating fires as the creature devoured the corpse of a woman.

The young boy’s stomach quivered, but there was nothing left to expunge. His pupils could only witness the bloodshed.

The battle began with a sudden flurry of movement. Lucius launched himself at the Anarchy, delivering a crushing blow of hundreds of pounds to its torso. But the creature barely flinched, allowing Pythagoras’ addled mind to compute a terrible fact in his mind.

It wasn’t an Anaphage.

In retaliation, it swung its massive fist, but the man had already moved to the side. Instead of riding out the blow to his skull, the Martian’s left arm withstood the strike.

Flung across the room, Lucius landed square in a pile of burning debris. After coughing out the injury, he leaped to his feet and stared down the monster once more. Creatures of this age and strength rarely spoke or had much intelligence. They were more like beasts than anything.

Lucius knew this, yet he also knew he could hurt it with his bare hands. He had killed Anaphages in the past in this manner. Despite his accolades, it seemed Anarchies were far beyond that limit. Far.

No one had ever forced the soldier to fight one without an array of mechanical weaponry, just in case a Domain were to collapse.

He cradled the fractured forearm with his other hand, but he showed no fear. Instead, Lucius called out to his only ally, “Arch! Get me a weapon! Pipe! Shiv! I don’t care! Just something!”

The words asserted to the young man woke him from his stupor. The tremors in API’s hands refused to cease, however, and so did his panic. His eyes scattered haphazardly, unable to put his brain to good use.

He never worked well under pressure.

Never.

Once more, Lucius received a beating that sent him rolling across the room, leaving his luminant blue blood to stain the steel floor. Despite with this, Lucius called for Archimedes again, believing in the young man, “Arch! Come on! You got this! It’s just fear!”

Fear.

The word was the only thing in API’s mind as it cycled millions of times per second. There were many things Archimedes feared.

He feared women. The scary and loud ones. He feared open spaces. The ones fitting massive crowds. Small ones, too. He feared fire. The kind that raged during summers, but also the tiny flames of a lighter. He feared death above all, however. It was the one thing that would stop his thoughts forevermore. He enjoyed thinking. It was the sole delight of the darkness.

However much he dreaded those things...

Arch bit his lips, drawing blood as he watched Lucius slammed into the ground. Naturally, the dutiful man rose once more, but his flesh had its limits. The genius knew the skeleton and muscular structure of a Martian. The hits he was taking, the newtons of force... they were bone-breaking.

Of all the things Archimedes feared... even death took a backseat to one very particular aversion. Monophobia. He had been alone for so long with only his thoughts. No one ever cared for him. Not really. They just used him. A few tried to stay, but none lingered, either pushed away by him, circumstance, or misfortune.

But...

This barbarian liked him. Archimedes was clueless why, but Lucius stayed by him. The soldier protected him from the other inmates, taught him a great deal, and kept him company in the darkness where it used to only be his thoughts.

The longing swirled ravenously until Archimedes lifted his hand. Then he clenched his fist and got to work.

By diving to his side, he picked up a rod of steel that had broken off the side of a cell. His eyes flashed before discovering a shard of a shattered mirror. With the two pieces, Archimedes’ hands fell to his shirt as he combined the two with a series of careful knots and wraps, crafting a makeshift spear in a mere couple of seconds. The boy could hardly run. He couldn't climb or jump. But his hands were that of an artisan.

Archimedes rose to his feet with the help of the wall, knowing the spear wouldn’t be enough. With that knowledge, he dipped the edge into the flame beside him. His mind fell into thought, spinning rapidly as he ignored the terror inside.

Fire has a devastating effect on most Dirge. The lesser ones, that is. Mr. Waters has mentioned killing Anarchies before. With a decent weapon... he can win. I know he can. But I need a guarantee.

The young man worked on certainties, prophecies built of math and science, not pure belief. He tossed the weapon to Lucius, and it ended with a roll, but returned to work. The Martian wielded the tool as if he had fought with a spear many times in the past.

He had.

Sidestepping a blow, he skillfully pushed it further away with the back of the spear, spinning the shaft across his body to slice open the mouth across the Anarchy’s stomach. Dark ichor spilled onto the floor as a roar broke into the air.

Archimedes dropped what he was working on, but he retrieved it from the ground with a panicked hustle. The bar of steel and bent metal met carefully as the craftsman manufactured a trap in his hands. It resembled those used on large prey in the wilds, not that Arch had ever been to such places.

He saw it in a book once.

For the boy, that was enough. His mind loathed to forget a single detail. If he had seen something, then he knew it. Innumerable minds across the galaxy wished they had such a talent as API, yet they did not. He stood out from all the others, a specimen unlike any other. By the age of three, he had learned calculus. At five, a syndicate discovered his talents and set him to work. Before the age of seven, Archimedes had earned them more than a million credits. A few days after his ninth birthday, however, another crime family killed his owners, taking him for themselves.

Tossed from hand to hand, he never had a home because of his beyond prodigious mind.

But he was not without his flaws.

“Mr. Waters! Back up!” Archimedes gathered his courage and heaved the metal contraption in his hands toward the battle. It didn't cross the distance. Nonetheless, Lucius took the warning seriously and leaped in reverse with all he had until he landed far, far behind, making up for Isaac's weakness.

Steel clattered to the ground in front of him as the idea sparked in his head, “Good shit, boy!”

This time, this day, this hour, Archimedes overcame his endless fear with the umbrella of the kind giant’s shadow.

Lucius then delivered a faux jab at the Anarchy, backstepping before it made contact. The monster growled at his cowardice, taking it for weakness, and charged him immediately. The Martian pedaled over as he noticed its carelessness, goading the creature to step over the trap.

Sure enough, it did.

Lucius retreated just as the Anarchy stepped into the contraption. It howled in agony as its leg caught on the steel, so Lucius seized the opening. He drove the spear through the creature’s stomach again, pushing it toward the flames. But the beast was heavy. He needed more force.

After ripping the weapon out, he sliced the edge across the creature’s side and bashed it toward the nearby flames. The Anarchy fell with the mighty shove, engulfed in fire. With a grim fury, Lucius held no mercy, spearing it again and again until the howls ceased.

Emotionless and noiseless, the soldier continued to gore his prey time after time until the sounds from it were finally silenced. Then he stumbled back, falling to a lone knee. Blood sloshed from his wounds like an overflowing glass of leaking vitality, the azure opposite to the nearby red heat.

Archimedes shuffled to his only friend and companion, whispering just over the sound of burning flesh, “That... that was an Anarchy. I’ve... seen footage of them killing whole... squads of trained soldiers. With guns.”

A string of low laughter came from Lucius. The only way he could talk to the boy was with honesty and a bit of deflection.

“Then you should have seen me do the same. It was only one. We better get a move on. If there are any more like that, we may be in some actual trouble,” Lucius ascended back to his full height and weighed the spear in his hands. Then, his attention fell to the spiked trap in the fire while his flesh already began to cease his bleeding.

With the end of the mirror-spear, he retrieved the trap and the Anarchy’s gaunt leg. The two worked to get the thing off, and Lucius gave it to Archimedes to hold.

The boy said nothing after Lucius’ deflection, falling silent once more. He spoke often around the man, but near most folk, he was mute, too full of tremors to utter one word.

As they walked toward the next door, the older one with a significant limp and trail behind him, he praised the youth, “Good job. I’m proud of you.”

A slim smile replaced Archimedes’ typical countenance, which contained only anxiety and terror. The emotion didn’t linger long, but the fact it appeared at all proved to Archimedes he had made the right choice. That he did good. Finally.

Meanwhile, Lucius’ focus remained on the opposite side of the next door. He could see through the grate with his height. And he did not like what he saw. Not. One. Bit.