The woman grew noticeably.

Taller.

Wiry muscles became thick enough to rival Runt’s.

Her steps made audible thuds in the metallic floor.

Flooring that was strong enough to barely flex beneath Runt’s boots, dented beneath the woman’s feet.

“Runt! Watch out!” Est said

The Torruk bared his teeth and tusks as he swung his poleaxe in a horizontal arc in front of him.

The woman didn’t deviate her path. She barreled straight ahead for Runt. As if the massive weapon wasn’t a concern.

The bladed head tore into the side of her arm.

Skin ripped.

A loud screech, metal on metal, triggered the auditory protections in Est’s helmet.

Runt had to fight to keep his grip as the vibrations threatened to shake his weapon free.

The woman rammed her shoulder into Runt’s chest and sent him flying several dozen feet.

Metal screamed in protest as benches and tables twisted and broke beneath the Torruk’s bulk.

“Oh crap,” Est whispered.

“Where’d that smug look go? Not used to seeing fear in your kind. Isn’t that what your family is known for? Smiles in the face of danger? Arrogance born of what your forefathers accomplished? You of the later generations have done nothing to earn that.” The woman’s face was a blank mask, like she was reciting something out of a book.

Est sheathed his blade. “I don’t disagree with much of what you said—” he frowned. “Actually… I agree with pretty much everything you said.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

Est sent his astral projection out to give him a more discerning set of eyes. Now he could catch the slightest movement the woman made. He needed every edge. His armor wasn’t going to be enough if she hit him like she had Runt.

He hoped she was out of those gems.

Not much of a choice in any case.

He just needed to be faster in pulling his projection back than the woman if she had another gem.

“Why not join your father’s people?” the woman ventured.

Est tried not to roll his eyes and failed.

The woman tensed.

“Oh, c’mon! Maybe because you’re trying to release a copy of Blissful Purpose on thousands of innocent people,” Est shrugged, “as much as I don’t like most of my extended family… they’re not evil, just jerks.”

The woman rolled her neck and flexed her arms. Her skin stretched as muscles bulged. Something seemed to shine beneath the thinned flesh.

The tear where Runt’s poleaxe had struck the woman’s left arm widened and revealed what appeared to be rust-colored metal.

“Being your father’s son isn’t going to save you,” the woman said.

“Wasn’t counting on it.”

“You weren’t mentioned in the plans.”

“So… that sounds like an admission that you’re doing this under orders from the Jade Realm,” Est grinned with a confidence that he didn’t feel while he slowly moved his free hand to the small compartment at the back of his waist.

The woman shifted forward on the balls of her feet.

Est noticed it a fraction of a second later.

He pulled the small flechette gun from its compartment while diving to one side. The aim assist in his helmet guided his hand as he sighted and squeezed the trigger.

The woman charged.

Quick despite her mass.

She covered half the distance when three ultra-dense flechettes struck her in the chest.

Est had used the same weapon to draw blood from an old Ibingan the last time he had allowed his mother to take him into the deep rainforest. That water wyrm had grown old enough that its scaly hide would’ve been impervious to most weapons from the old world. The magnetically-accelerated flechettes had pierced right through and drawn blood.

The woman was thrown back a few paces.

Est scrambled to his feet and tried not to show the dismay on his face. He kept his weapon trained on the woman. The targeting reticle in his faceplate shook slightly.

Deep breaths, Est thought, steady my arm.

He said a silent curse. It wasn’t working.

The woman prodded at the holes in her shirt. “That actually hurt. Those rounds pack a punch. Which means they have to be heavy. Going by the way your arm is shaking, I’m right. You don’t have many left, do you?” She grabbed her shirt and ripped it apart.

Est blinked.

Not just her shirt. Her underwear. And her skin.

She tore at herself with a frenzy until all that remained was a massive woman made entirely of metal with small scraps of stubborn clothing and skin clinging.

She was rust red in color, banded.

“Oh shit… organic metal super power or metamorphic? You’ve gained size and mass, so it’s not just a layer of that metallic substance underneath your skin. Guessing the changes go deeper than that,” Est said.

“You’re pretty sharp,” the woman’s metallic brow creased, “not at all like you appear.”

“And you’re being quite talkative, not at all like you appeared.”

“It doesn’t matter what you learn. You’ll be dead and then I’ll find another way to deliver the substance to the populace of this dirty city.”

Est took aim and fired again.

Burst mode emptied his remaining ammo.

The woman reacted quickly.

The first round hit her in the cheek, but she turned so the rest of the rounds hit the side of her head.

“Damn it.”

Est had aimed for her nonmetallic eye.

“Enough!” the woman growled.

She charged.

Est turned and ran.

Pounding thunder followed him as he weaved around tables and benches.

The woman plowed right through them, so he abandoned that tactic.

Despite having his back turned to the woman, Est was able to just barely slip out of her grasping hands. As if he could see from the back of his head.

The woman let out a snarl.

That was all the confirmation Est needed to know that she was out of those gems.

A small victory he savored as he ran for his life in a most undignified manner.

His astral projection spotted movement from the other side of the free restaurant’s large dining room.

Est turned and angled toward said movement.

The woman was intent on him, so she didn’t see what he had seen.

He dived to the ground at the last possible moment.

“Rusty woman, die!”

Runt’s poleaxe swept over Est’s back and into the woman’s neck.

Metal on metal screeched.

The woman choked, but didn’t die.

She grabbed the haft and pulled it out of Runt’s hands.

The Torruk’s eyes widened. “Such strength… impossible.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Enough of this stupid weapon!” The woman’s face twisted as she took the long haft in both hands and twisted.

Rather she tried.

The steel didn’t so much as bend to her superstrength.

“This is just plain metal! Why won’t it break?”

“Is invested with parts of spirits of several ancestors. Not much, because Runt being what he is didn’t inspire much trust from ancestors, still…” Runt grinned, “you not strong enough.”

“Fine, let’s see how you like your own axe in your face!” the woman snarled and raised the weapon.

Est could only watch as his friend’s head was about to be caved in. There was no way that Runt’s helmet was going to stop the superpowered blow.

“Dance Form: Duel,” Runt said.

The Torruk moved with grace and elegance that didn’t fit his hugely muscled body.

The woman’s strike missed Runt by the barest whisper as he twirled past his weapon. He continued the movement to her right and struck her in the face with an elbow. Then he brought his other arm down in a smooth slashing motion that disarmed her of his poleaxe. Still in the same movement, he swept his leg across the back of the woman’s legs and sent her to the floor with a loud crash.

Runt continued as he twirled past the woman while reaching out and grabbing his spinning poleaxe as if the entire thing had been precisely choreographed.

He spun the weapon before slamming the bladed head down on the woman’s chest.

The woman grimaced, but still grasped for the haft.

Only to find it gone as Runt quickly pulled it away, spinning to a stop out of the woman’s reach.

“What was that?” Est’s face resembled a fish. Blinking slowly with a slack-jawed open mouth. “Is this your big secret Class? You’re a Dancer?”

“Battledancer,” Runt shrugged. “Am small for a Torruk male. Same size as females. So, mother taught me battle dances… got class…”

“Of all the stupid—” the woman roared to her feet. “I’m not going to be beaten by a dancer and a waste of genetics!”

“Runt! Don’t stop battledancing!” Est drew his blade.

“Can only do for so long before stamina goes. Class meant for females.”

Nevertheless, Runt began to dance with the metallic woman.

This time his poleaxe became a part of him. Like another limb as he flowed smoothly from move to move.

The woman struck with her fists, but found that Runt twirled and spun out of the way by the barest of inches.

Each time the poleaxe or one of Runt’s limbs struck the woman’s vulnerable spots. Face, neck, joints and other soft targets.

Rather, what would’ve been vulnerable had her body not been transformed into organic metal.

“The eyes! Go for her eyes!” Est crept closer as he tried to stay at the woman’s back, desperately looking for a way to help Runt.

“Am trying! Eyelids are also metal,” Runt huffed.

“Shit!” Est muttered. The enhanced view provided by his astral projection showed him that Runt’s stamina was fading fast.

His friend’s movements were slowing and growing labored. The easy grace of just a few minutes ago was gone. The woman’s strikes were getting closer while Runt’s weakened.

The pit in Est stomach grew. There was one way he could end the fight immediately. It was just that he had sworn never to do that again.

Even to save his friend? Save innocent people?

“Shut up, conscience.” Sweat dripped down the sides of Est’s face despite the climate control system in his armor. “Fine… only as a last resort. To save Runt and the people. Not for myself. Never that.”

Runt faltered.

A misstep.

He stopped.

A moment was enough for the woman.

She ripped the poleaxe out of Runt’s grip and punched him in the face.

The steel helmet deformed.

Est new that meant broken bones in his friend’s face.

The woman punched Runt again, twice, three times.

Runt struck out with his gauntleted fists as he staggered back. All the grace and elegance to his movements that the dance form had provided were gone.

The woman didn’t bother defending herself from the blows.

Even though Runt was about three times as strong as a similarly sized human being, he couldn’t have harmed her with just his fists at his best.

The woman caught Runt’s huge fist and crushed it, crumpling the steel and the hand within.

Runt didn’t utter a sound. He just tried again with his other fist.

The woman’s head rocked back a fraction, but she merely grinned. “Let’s see you twirl around now.” She stomped down on Runt’s knee. The loud crack echoed through the cavernous dining room.

Est couldn’t see the look on Runt’s face, but the Torruk was still silent.

The woman let Runt crumple to the floor. “I wonder how Blissful Purpose will work on an outworlder?” she shook her head, “I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on the news after I’m done here. That’s what all the dancing around gets you. Instead of a clean death in combat, you get your head fucked with.” The woman turned to face Est. “Ironic, since that’s what your family is all about, isn’t it? Messing with people’s heads.”

Est swallowed the lump in his throat. The timer in his head was getting closer to zero. “Look, please, just stop this. You can leave. I won’t stop you. Just… I can’t let you release the substance and I know I have to stop you no matter the cost, but I’d rather not do that to you,” his voice lowered, “to myself.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “What can you do? Nothing. You’re stronger and tougher than the human baseline, but not by that much. Your only psionic ability is projecting some kind of secondary consciousness. In a way I pity you. All that power in both your lines and you got nothing from one and something weak from the other. I’ll do you one mercy. Unlike your friend over there, I’ll kill you cleanly. In honor of half the blood that runs through you.”

Est didn’t wait for the woman to move. He threw the hard sheath of his walking stick blade at her face and rushed in right behind it.

The woman didn’t budge. She didn’t blink.

The hard sheath struck her face.

Est lunged in with his blade a split-second after.

He was quick.

The sharp point drove straight for the woman’s eye.

She blinked.

The blade skipped off her metallic eyelid.

Est found himself lifted off his feet.

An unyielding grip around his throat.

The woman held him firmly, but not enough to cut of his oxygen.

Est slashed and stabbed at the woman’s arm, body and face. All he managed to do was leave small scratches in the gleaming rust-colored metallic skin.

“Fancy sword. Threnosh? Actually kind of stings a little,” the woman said. “I’ll crush your throat. It won’t take long. I could crush your head. That’d be quicker, but out of respect I think you should be recognizable for your funeral. Die with dignity, as all warriors strive for.”

“Not a warrior,” Est managed to choke out.

“And that’s why you’re such a disappointment to everyone.”

“Not my choice to be born with these powers,” Est whispered.

“What’d you say?” The woman pulled him closer.

“Powers… didn’t pick them.”

Est dropped his blade and grabbed the woman’s arm.

The woman frowned. “What—” Her face twisted into a grimace and a yelp escaped her mouth.

Est dropped to the ground. Air suddenly flooded back into his lungs as he hungrily gulped it down.

The woman was wide-eyed as she stared at her arm.

There in the rust-colored metal were scalpel-thin incisions, surrounded by dark smudges, still smoking. Four fingers and a thumb.

Est waved a hand.

Crackling, glowing energy projected out of each finger, like nails. They had burned right through the tips of his gauntlet.

“You—” the woman gaped.

“You called me a disappointment. In many ways you’re right… depending on the perspective. This is all I can manage with my plasma projection. Unlike father, who can wreathe himself in the stuff, shoot enough of it to destroy a building and use it to fly.”

The woman calmed. “Even with just this you could’ve been a valuable warrior, yet you hide it. This changes nothing. I’m no stranger to pain and the threat of death,” she held up her injured arm, “you will still die and I will accomplish my mission.”

“You’re right,” Est sighed. “I could slash at you all day and you’d still keep coming. Eventually, I’d get tired or unlucky, which means death and worse for my friend and everyone else in this place that I call home. So, I have no choice. I never have— had one.”

Est brought his astral projection down to stand exactly halfway between him and the woman.

The aisle formed by the rows of tables and benches meant that there was no way for her to reach him without crossing the projection.

The woman slowly walked forward. Each step thudded into the metallic floor, leaving small dents in the wake of her footsteps. Her stride didn’t alter as she neared Est’s projection.

Plasma nails flared to life out of the fingertips on Est’s other hand.

“Too little,” the woman said.

“Two different powers. One from my mother’s side and one from my father’s side. Each one equally underwhelming in comparison to them,” Est said.

The woman neared his astral projection. A few more steps and she would walk right through it.

“But that’s not the full story. You’re about to learn the truth of my curse. Something that only a handful of people know.”

“I don’t care about your well-earned inferiority complex. You chose this life,” the woman said.

One more step to go.

“Two powers. Weak individually, but together… devastating.”

The woman crossed into Est’s astral projection.

He exerted his will. The act was against everything he believed in. It was against an oath he had sworn to himself. There was no greater arbiter for him in this.

He betrayed all with this one act.

The astral projection flared with bright, burning energy.

The woman screamed like an animal as the plasma ate away at her insides. Superhuman organic metal held for only a moment.

Est turned away. He didn’t want to watch the woman melt.

Not that it made a difference.

He saw and felt all through his astral projection.

He shared her agony.

As if he was dying alongside her.

Seconds, minutes, hours.

Est didn’t know how long had passed.

It didn’t truly matter.

When it was done the woman was a twisted lump of metal melted into the floor.

Est fell to his knees.

“Runt… you alive?” Est called.

A wet-sounding grunt, accompanied by a fist raised into the air before clattering back to the floor.

“Just hang on, partner.”

Est subvocalized a message to his cousin.

He and Runt had done it. They had stopped Blissful Purpose from being released and destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people.

And they didn’t die.

That was a win, right?

“Help’s on the way,” Est said.

He lay back on the floor. His eyes were heavy. Tears welled.

Twice now.

He had used his powers in combination.

The first time had nearly shattered him.

What would happen this time?

Est closed his eyes.

A question for later.