En Sabah Nur held himself rigid. A hundred thousand alien warriors. Beings who had either fought or trained under one who styled himself the Champion of the Universe... and that title was something nobody contested with him.
If they did, they could come fight him and take it, and nobody had, for hundreds of millennia... far longer than he himself had been alive.
En Sabah Nur suddenly had the feeling he was facing a peer of his loathed masters from the impression of endless years weighing down on him, making his own thousands of years of life nothing more than the passing of a gnat.
“I will expect your presence tomorrow during the registration period.” The screen went dark. En Sabah Nur stared at it in mounting anger, and a feeling of helplessness.
He had stayed behind the scenes, his existence known only to the truly mighty and his own secretive subjects, his plans long and complex.
Now, he was going to be thrust out into the light... along with how many others? They would also not have any choice in the matter, and he could imagine what would happen if they threw a fight before so many proud warriors. They would be challenged and challenged again and again, until they either fought with everything or were reduced to simpering dogs who would not fight back against those weaker than them.
They would have to fight and take their place, or they would be trampled for their lack of pride.
He exhaled, a long and metallic sound, clenching his fist while he did so. He had been a warrior, too, and he had fought his share of beings mortal, immortal, and alien over the centuries.
If the name of Apocalypse needed to come forth, then come forth it would!
---------
“Yer gonna register, Dyna?” The Rock was packing up for his trip to the Colosseum. He wouldn’t be taking a flight, as Mr. Hill was going and would simply Earthjump them all close by, bypassing the choked flights and ground traffic converging on the alien ship.
I quirked a smile despite myself. “Yeah, but I’m afraid I’m gonna cheat a bit.” I waggled Function in front of him. “You know the Wrecking Crew, right?”
“Dem poozers? What about ‘im?” Grimm sniffed disdainfully. He’d had a couple run-ins with them, and while he never took them lightly, they weren’t his match unless they managed to gangpile him and use the Crowbar on him.
“This has the totality of their Asgardian Buffs inside it. Effectively Asgardian-level strength, endurance, and durability, elite-grade if restricted to one person.”
“Huh.” He stared at it, then looked at me warily. “You are already damn dangerous with those Fists of yours, Dyna.”
I grinned widely. “I got more cheating.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m thinking this is gonna get bad.”
I pulled off my Bite Bracers, since I wouldn’t be able to use them, and couldn’t use energy projection at all.
There was an I-Ching pattern of white Tattoos on my forearms. He blinked at them, tilting his head in interest. “Got no idea what those are, other than looking like something Chinese.”
“Hand out.” He obligingly extended his rocky arm, and I put one hand on it from the side, and began to press.
I was taller, stronger, and more fit than I had been, but so was he, with much better Heavyfoot. I couldn’t budge his arm at all.
The first bar of the Philosopher’s Might lit up, and my pushing increased abruptly. “Whoa,” he murmured, and then three more Bars lit up on my arms. Due to leverage, his big orange arm began to move sideways, despite his resistance.
He brought out his other arm to brace it and stop me. “Damn, that is pretty impressive,” he acknowledged, and there was a sizzle of lightning around my upper arms.
The spiral Tats there lit up underneath my shirt, the harsh glow visible right through the cotton, and his arms began to move again as his whole body tensed and fought back against the pressure I was giving him.
“Sweet Aunt Petunia,” he muttered under his breath, as I was now directly taking on his full strength, complete with anchoring heavyfoot, and not giving ground. “What the heck are those?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“They are called Bands of the Titan. They convert my bioelectricity discharge into pure Strength. Since I can’t use it on the attack, it’s a modular adaptation.”
He blinked, and then realized, “You ain’t using that Wrecker Buff yet.”
I grinned, and triggered it. Function sizzled with glowy particle effects, and magic poured into me.
I was about 5’9, decently tall for a woman... but that was short for an Asgardian. I instantly grew to about six foot two, and my weight at that height instantly doubled, meaning that without magic I wasn’t going to be gliding.
My Might rating also went from about ten tons to about fifty, base. Then the +10 Strength from my Bands doubled that, and the +2 to damage/opposed Strength checks per bar of Philosopher’s Might built up on that.
He was fully braced, but so was I, my Attract fully capable of bearing up as I leaned into him, and really bore down, effectively anchored to a five-foot radius of the steel floor beneath me.
The floor began to screech underneath us as his rocky orange arms wavered. Earth-based bruisers had huge tolerances for weight and pressure when braced, but I was just bringing some monstrous force down on him.
“Uncle,” he said casually, before we tore the floor apart. It was heavy reinforced steel, but we were putting a lot of pressure on it.
I let up instantly and stepped back. The magic was nice enough to affect my clothes, so I didn’t grow out of them or strain any seams... not that the unstable molecule fabric underneath it wouldn’t adapt, anyway.
“That is dang impressive, Dyna,” he acknowledged, crossing his arms as he looked up at me. I promptly shrank back down to normal height, proportions, and weight. “How would that work with me?”
“It’s an additive Buff, not a multiplier. Roughly +40 tons of Might, maybe a little faster, some additional durability for you, and you’d grow some.” I flexed my hands. “The Philosopher’s Might would help you, but you’d probably only be able to open two Bars if I Tatted you and Opened your Chakra point.”
He regarded me for a long moment, considering that. He’d been working the Earth magic steadily, and had learned to take back his human form whenever he wanted. It wasn’t his ‘true’ form, of course, so he didn’t stay in it all the time, as learning to deal with and grow his big orange rocky self was arguably much more important.
But this was a chance for Terra to show off to the whole galaxy. Every edge was a good thing. “What do I gotta do?” he asked directly.
I pulled a steel case out of my Masspack. “Take your human form, lower your density and natural defenses as far as they can go, and let’s find somewhere they aren’t going to hear you scream like a little girl.”
He grimaced despite himself. “I do not sound like a little girl!” he said in his very deep, rumbling voice.
I just smiled at him.
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He was sweating bullets, and just laid back, his arms and legs splayed, breathing hard as the feeling of the biggest, hottest zits ever being popped shuddered along his nerves. If you had magical sight, you could see the points on his hands and feet were open.
In his human form, he looked like an athletic man in his early thirties, strongly built, like a linebacker, although he was balding a bit early.
“So...” he muttered.
“Like a six-year-old,” I smiled, and he could only sigh.
“Damn, that hurt,” he murmured. “What kinda magic is this? Feels so damn weird.”
“Soul magic, sport. What you’re feeling is your soul outside your skin, instead of inside it.” I reached down, picked up his right arm, and interwove my fingers with him, palm to palm. “Now, Shape it exactly like this.”
I Attracted our forearms together, and Shaped up my Philosopher’s Might bars.
He grunted as golden-silver light flowed over his arms, and two Bars lit up his forearms with a cool white glow; one long bar, one short.
He clenched his fist as I released him, picked up his other arm, and helped him do the same thing again.
“I can feel it,” he murmured, clenching his fist. “Like my soul is wrapped around my hand and arm...”
“Yep.” I sat down on the ground, pulled off my socks and shoes, and extended my feet onto his, locking onto his soles as he winced. “Now do this with your feet.”
Mists swirled around my feet as the Cloudstepping Sandals formed. It took him a minute, as I had to form them a half-dozen times before he could Shape them accurately.
He looked down at the misty things wrapped around his feet. “What do these do?”
“You’ve got two points in them, all you know how to do right now, because you’re a big tough guy.” He made a face down at me, and wagged his finger, but said nothing as I pulled my socks and shoes back on, grinning at him. “One point, ignore rough terrain, slippery floors, ice, nails, similar stuff. Also, it don’t matter how rough it is, you’re as quiet as walking on normal soil.”
“Even when I’m rocky?” he asked alertly, suddenly seeing mischief potential.
“Yep, and your tracks will be pretty light, won’t strain any floors.”
“Hey, nice.” That alone was worth having them. “What else?”
“Two points, walk on water or other liquids. If underwater, immediately head for the surface.”
“Walk on water?” His eyes gleamed, looking east towards the river. He was definitely gonna go try that out soon.
“Three points.” I stepped up on the wall, and stood there sideways. My hair didn’t even fall down as I crossed my arms, then strolled along the wall sideways as if it were a sidewalk.
“Four points.” I stepped sideways up to the ceiling and was hanging straight down, except my hair still didn’t fall. “Also, you don’t leave any tracks on the ground at this stage, and you can walk over any surface, no matter how fragile. You can walk on spiderwebs, chains, tightropes, paper, atop blades of grass, and the like, and won’t even leave a dew trail.”
“Whoa.” He nodded slowly. “That’s impressive.”
I let go of the ceiling, dropped four inches, stopped. I casually walked around in a half-circle in midair, returning myself to upright, and stood there a couple feet off the ground on mist. “Five points, walk on air, move through water at your normal rate of speed. Automatically kicks in if you fall or are thrown more than ten feet.”
He stared at me, then down at the vaporous power of his soul wrapped around his feet. “I could learn ta fly?” he asked in almost a whisper.