Koa’s Mark couldn’t take much more. He had effectively separated the battlefield into three different sections. Remus and Violet each had their own private sector, with the rest of the battle taking place in one final, larger enclosure. Under constant bombardment from fire, forceful attacks, and the battering of angry clansmen, it took all of his focus to keep the walls up. Any second now, and they could all come crashing down. Spilling out the absolute destruction that both Remus and Violet were dishing out.
Then there was the troubling sensation he was getting from Brison. Koa had spent enough time in his brother's vicinity to identify the power emanating from him, like a marring streak of colour to his spiritual senses.
Somehow, Enos had his hand in this.
It would explain why this battle had reached such extremes. In the corner of his eye, Koa didn’t fail to notice the long row of medical camps that were being erected. By their side, at least a dozen occupied gurneys stretched out. Nurses were rushing to and fro, waving to grab attention, their pleas to end this bloodshed falling on deaf ears. He spotted Koa amongst their number, looking like he could sleep through the next hundred years.
Koa focused on keeping himself alive, and his walls standing. This was supposed to be a safe match, but the rising number of casualties told another story. He was adorned in his armour, adopting the appearance of a primal berserker. Together with his eyes, Koa had hoped to look intimidating enough to ward off any would-be attackers. But nope — twice now he’d sent Ambition clansmen to the infirmary. Bees buzzed through the air around him, though they didn’t stray very far: once the first adventurous bumblebee had been sizzled by a rogue blast of fire, the rest quickly learnt their lesson. They were supposed to act as his sentinels, warning Koa if anyone tried to backstab him while he kept his focus on the walls. Great in theory, but in practice, they hadn’t stopped screaming since Brison first appeared through that mist.
Until now.
Raising an eyebrow, Koa looked away from his fortifications to take in the battle anew. Everyone had dropped their weapons. It was as if, all at once, both sides had realised how far things had progressed. How easily their barbaric instincts had taken ahold of them. Was this humanity stripped of all its lavishment? Creatures drawn to senseless violence?
The Ambition of Tanish didn’t help. It was like a very loud, very opinionated voice at the back of every Ambition clansman’s head. Urging them on to fight with all they had, heedless of the consequences.
Now that voice had gone quiet. Leaving the rest of the mind to scream out in terror, disgusted at its own actions.
Veida didn’t miss her opportunity.
“Everybody!” She projected her voice to its limit, thirty or so heads flickering to her, all at once. The pick of the litter — these were the strongest Foot-Soldiers the Ambition Sect and the Talents of the Future had to offer. The fact they had survived so long was testament enough for that. “Something is wrong. I believe Brison is under the manipulation of Enos!”
Confused murmurs, like a wave of uncertainty, spread away from the woman. Nobody responded, eyeing Veida warily as if sizing her up, waiting to see if this was some kind of trick. One man sauntered ahead of the Ambition Clansmen, his face, chainmail armour, and twin axes positively dripping with Ichor.
“I call your bluff!” He screeched, and, puffing his chest out, launched into a charge.
Veida shook her head. “I’ll make you an example then.”
Without another word, a searing blast of fire rushed out of her palm.
The man responded with his own blast of blue, but it was hopeless. A Foot-Soldier was completely overwhelmed by the power of a Warden. Even when Remus fought against those stronger than him, he had assistance.
The man dropped to the ground, and Koa had to stop a squeak from escaping his throat. The clansman was charred from head-to-toe, and in one grand movement, dust billowed away from where his body fell.
“I do not wish to fight!” Veida shouted at the top of her lungs. “Stop this nonsense. We have a common enemy too great to waste time bickering amongst ourselves. Your sect leader needs you, now more than ever!”
That seemed to stop the Ambition Clan’s grumbles.
Hope flared in Koa’s heart. Something had gone horribly wrong, but at least they wouldn’t have to continue butting heads against each other. Veida was right, in this trying time, humanity now more than ever needed to set aside their-
Koa’s heart leaped into his throat. He staggered backwards, not processing what he was seeing.
Brison was flying in the air, but he wasn’t using his flames. No, the man had wings. Wings! And claws, and talons, and whiskers that reached inches away from his face, and-
God damn. God damn. He's a demon!
Or a dragon. Koa couldn’t decide which. But that wasn’t even the worst part.
Two blades of fire were wielded in both of his hands. They were semi-solid, like plasma, each with highlights of gold, from Ichor. As well as a certain grey blood, like that of an Unbounded.
When Koa looked over to the other blade, he didn’t have to wonder whose blood it was.
Violet was fully pierced through the chest, blood gushing from her open mouth, only to congeal on her cheeks. The girl was barely breathing.
Brison roared, upending his head to the sky. “Behold! This stain has finally been cleansed!”
Koa wasn’t sure what the desired effect of that was. If it was to impress them, not even Brison’s own men looked pleased. Their jaws hung wide, their faces a caricature of dread.
“The Paladins rise!” His voice continued to boom. Veida had ceased her own call to arms, at a loss for words. “Join my ranks, see the weakness of our enemies. What good have our gods done for us? Why do we fight for Tanish? He has contributed nothing to this universe but destruction.”
Gasps. Koa felt himself joining the men gathered around as they peered up into the sky, as if they were all hoping for a godly smiting.
No such retribution came.
“Think on my words!” It broke Koa’s heart to think Brison had been reduced to a mouthpiece for Enos. “I offer the only solution.”
Silence.
Brison raised an eyebrow. “Not a very excited bunch, eh?” His eyes roved across the battlefield, or what was left of it. “Any challengers?”
Nobody raised their voice. Koa felt his heart racing, his palms growing clammy and something in his chest disagreeing with all this. Yet despite himself, he couldn’t get his legs to move. Nearly all of them were only Foot-Soldiers. If a Warlord like Violet had failed to subdue this new version of Brison, then what hope did they have?
Veida accepted her fate. Fire cloaked her fists as she strode forward, a net of floating magma materialising in the air.
A lamb to the slaughter. Koa couldn't get that image out of his head, and hated himself for it.
A smile rose eagerly on Brison’s lips. “That’s right . . . I should have known. None of you are Paladin quality. I’ll do Enos the favour of cleansing you my-”
The sound of a forest toppling down stripped the limelight away from Brison. Even he and Veida couldn’t help but look back for the source of the noise.
The wall separating Remus had come crashing down. Koa hadn’t even noticed any efforts to takedown his wall. Had he sent the entire thing crashing down in one blow?
Through the dust, a sort of smog had formed. But through this fog, it wasn’t Brison that came into the fray.
The ground shook with each step as they approached. Vibrations tremored through Koa’s body, seeming to make his very skull rattle. There were flashes through the smoke, revealing stray images of a lone warrior. An arm here, a leg there, thunder booming through the sky at each glare of light.
When lightning struck, a peculiar shade of azure, it smacked down onto one central spot. As if Tanish had finally arrived to punish them for Brison’s insolence, only to mistake his target.
The sky cleared, the fog dispersed, and Remus stood proudly.
Lightning and flame crackled around Remus in his own personal storm. It weaved around him, as if the man was disaster incarnate, the sinister counterpart to mother nature. His chain and the remains of Brison’s hammer were clenched tightly in each hand. So that was where the man’s weapon had gone; it appeared to have found a new owner.
“What do we have here?” Brison turned his attention away from Veida, as if forgetting she existed. “Remus. My master really does despise you. Quite a visceral strand of hatred. It would please him immensely if I plucked that hammer away from your dead fingers.”
Remus should have been exhausted. He should have been cooped up in one of the infirmary’s tents, thoroughly spent after taking down a full attack squad. But despite the Ichor staining his flesh, and the ruined state of Aziel’s armour, Koa couldn't spot a single scratch on his body.
And when his senses got a hold on the man, he realised why.
Veida wasn’t the only Splintered Rank amongst them.
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Advancing to Vanguard was strange.
Remus had expected something colossal. Like the sky tearing into two, as the earth was divided into a million pieces.
Reality was a lot more underwhelming. His Mark and Vault finally seemed to stop fighting with each other. Remus detached himself from both Divine relics. He let go of the years of suffering, the life of ridicule he’d been forced to endure as a Death-Marked, during and before the Trials of the Earnest. His Full Body Blood Infusion Mould that he had agonised over, was even harder to say goodbye to. So many days of slamming his head against the wall, trying Mould after Mould until realising he would have to develop his own. Then sketching out, and tirelessly following the design through gradual increments of Infinity.
This wasn’t truly goodbye to either, and Remus knew that. Still, it felt like letting go of both. Maybe that was why this had taken him so long in the first place. It was almost as if he had to acknowledge the past was gone: those days travelling with Violet had been some of the toughest of his life, but he found himself missing them more and more. They were back travelling together now, but he missed his grandfather. He missed his only concern being Damosh and Nova, and not the absolute terror of this new phase of Unbounded attack. An assault where any one of his companions may be manipulated by their dark influence.
Maybe Barley was right. Maybe it was emotions getting in his way, and impeding his advancement. But with the Talents of the Future at his back, reunited with his closest friends, and his eyes tunnel-visioned onto one goal once more, Remus finally had some peace of mind. It was strange, a contrast to the terror all around, to the certainty that something about this battle had gone very, very awry. But regardless of external circumstances, Remus felt like an anchor during a storm.
He thrived best in the chaos of this world, cutting through like a holy dagger where strife and ruin besieged the people of Descent.
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Remus opened his eyes, breathing slow and steady. He clenched and unclenched his fists, realising — despite the Ichor and shards of Infirnite plastered to his skin — that not a single cut grazed his body. He didn’t even seem to have any scar tissue. If you stripped him of the debris and the blood, there was no sign on Remus’ body to suggest he’d ever participated in battle.
Remus wondered how far the miraculous healing of advancement could go. What if a man on his deathbed emerged into a new Rank of power? It would be pretty auspicious timing. He had to wonder, could this avert death?
Hopefully, he would never have to find out.
He took a moment to hop around on his feet. His body felt the same as always: no heavier, and he didn’t feel stronger. Though that wasn’t exactly something you could gauge without testing. His Boundless Mark, however, shimmered through the late evening blue.
The tubes of his Full Body Blood Infusion Mould now all connected to his Mark, extending off in an intricate maze he knew all too well. Remus drew in a slither of Infinity, most of the essence already drained for miles all around. It was now consumed by the Mark itself, instead of into what had once been his Boundless Vault.
The Three Splintered Ranks came to mind. All with their own unique heavenly construct.
Wardens, equipped with a Boundless Chamber created by sacrificing their Mark. The walking, talking shields of humanity’s army. They were proficient in manipulating Infinity, able to withstand blow after blow due to their immaculate defence. Their Chambers dwarfed any Bank or Vault, stretching through nearly the entire body, and storing enough Infinity to rival some Unbounded. Nothing to scoff at. The trade-off was a less than stellar manipulation of their god’s subject of power: having to draw it in directly through their Ichor, without a Mark’s assistance. Unfortunately for any Death-Marked wishing to mimic the technique, this was only possible due to one’s Ichor becoming truly potent at these higher Ranks.
Mercenaries, with their great Tapestries, forged into being through letting their Mark consume the power of their newly created Vault. They weaved in and out of the battlefield, their destructive power taking down dangerous targets, but their poor defence leaving them prone to injury. Remus couldn’t fathom how this subset of people had to heart to wave goodbye to the Mould they had just created. Yet part of him saw the appeal. Hadrian and other mercenaries saw their Marks expand to double, or sometimes triple the size. Tapestries granted them absolute control over their domain of power, truly able to push a god’s concept to the very boundaries. Though having one’s Vault be reduced to a pea-sized dot again was not a light trade-off.
And finally, Remus’ Rank of choice, Vanguard. It was the perfect middleground. Whilst not reaching the heights of a Mercenary’s brute strength, or the longevity of a Warden, it provided the best of both worlds. These made up most of the Splintered Ranks in the army, their construct of choice, now illuminating Remus’ reborn skin, was the Boundless Mark.
Thoughts of how he would go about reaching Warlord crossed Remus’ mind, but he shook his head. He had other matters to attend to. Namely, discovering what exactly was going on.
No way was this nothing more than a simple bout to test out Remus’ rebellion. Something was up.
Despite the danger, Remus couldn't help but grin. Here was the perfect opportunity to test out the might of a newly advanced Vanguard.
His Infinity Manipulation and mastery over Tanish’s power should have both received boosts from the advancement. Cracking his neck, Remus decided to try out the latter first.
Blue fire immersed his body, so quick, it seemed to precede his mind’s instructions. How could he do something different? For so long, it felt to Remus like he had been relying on the same old repertoire of abilities. He couldn’t be content with complacency.
His raised the temperature, the colour following suit as it roared in a fiery white. Next, Remus thinned the flames. It was like drawing them into slim blades, but he allowed the eruptive power of Ambition to stay intact. Ambition didn’t like to maintain a solid form. It was free flowing, like fire, but surely there were other shapes his Ambition could inhabit?
His queries were answered when lightning shot out of his body.
Remus lost control over the new technique, too busy grasping both sides of his head in awe.
Lightning.
It was much harder to maintain than fire, the form far more destructive. This was Ambition in its most raw, unchecked state: unable to be contained. To his spiritual senses, it felt to Remus like Eruptive Will, that same kind of explosive might now crackling around his body. Like with his fires, a little testing proved that he could cause the energy to erupt remotely. Not that the lightning lasted particularly long, anyway. Compared to his fires, they were out in the blink of an eye.
Remus tried to calm himself, the tide of excitement overflowing from his racing heart. Any second now, and he was worried the organ might burst with joy. If there was any way to die from happiness, this would be it.
He looked up absently to Koa’s fortifications. He had to wonder, just how strong was that oak wall anyway? He hated to undermine all of Koa’s hardwork, but by the sounds of it, he was needed back in the midst of battle.
Remus concentrated all of his lightning to one fist. At the same time, he imbued each finger with a giant, whirling ball of Eruptive Will. Finally, he coated his arm with searing white fire, and, all in one breath, smashed the oak frontier.
He hadn’t expected it to work quite so well.
The wall went tumbling down, a maelstrom of sawdust billowing through the air as Remus blinked away the dust. Only when it cleared, a few seconds later, was he able to get a good view on the situation.
What immediately hit him as strange was the peculiar fact no-one was fighting. Ambition clansmen and members of his rebellion alike simply stared at him, eyes wider than the hole he had blasted through. But why-
A strange noise escaped Remus’ throat when he saw it.
Violet’s life hanging on by a thread.
It took Remus a second to realise it was Brison who he was looking at. But the demonic features, the fiery blades impaling Violet’s body, the splurge of oozing black that had taken control over his Mark. It stank of Enos’ doing.
Brison seemed to say something, but the words went over Remus’ head.There was no-time to dilly-dally. Remus learnt back, as if about to leap, charging lightning through his legs. His Ichor was on fire, his breath felt hot in his mouth, and Eruptive Will was implanted into every muscle in his lower body. He didn’t even feel the weight of his hammer and chain.
Then he flew.
Remus exploded into Brison’s face, swinging his hammer with the might of a sumo wrestler. He saw Brison’s neck deform, bending dangerously to the side. Mid-air, he kicked away the man’s right hand, sending the sword piercing Violent flying off to the side.
Flying over to her, imbuing his flames with trickles of lightning to quicken his speed, he grabbed Violet’s body, and rushed to the ground. There, without thinking, he reached out into the fires of the ethereal blade. He poured all of his own Ambition into the sword, subduing Brison’s own authority over the weapon. Brison was too far away, and too surprised to wrestle back, and the weapon instantly dispersed.
“Are you okay?” It was the most generic thing to say, but Remus didn’t have much time on his hands. Blood was flowing through the cut in her chest, at speeds that made Remus’ stomach turn.
Violet gritted her teeth, a mix of relief and frustration flooding through her. “I-I’ll be fine. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back there fighting.”
Remus flinched as motion blurred past his eyes. Lightning danced on the top of his knuckles, but it was only Veida. “Remus, I’ll congratulate you on your advancement later. As harsh as it is, Violet will be able to recover on her own. All she needs is some time to-” the sound of a mountain coming to life cut the woman off. “Time to channel some Infinity. But we need to deal with Brison. That tainted Mark of his seems to have increased his strength, but two Splintered Ranks should be enough to subdue the man.”
Brison was screeching death threats, but Remus paid the crazed comments no mind. “So what’s the deal here? We’re killing him?”
“Not if we can help it. But if it comes to that-”
There was no time.
Brison returned to a shaky stand. Gripped tightly was the hammer Remus had thrown at his head. The weapon had endured so much. In some kind of fit, Brison burned the thing to ashes, summoning an orb of fire between his hands brighter than the sun.
“Interesting technique you’ve got there Remus.” The Warlord’s body suddenly shone with light, thunderous streaks of electricity blazing off him. “I was never too creative with our sect’s powers. Perhaps I should take some pointers from you.”
Remus wasted no time. Before another word could escape the goliath’s mouth, he was only an inch away. The lightning from both of their bodies met together, charging the atmosphere with a murderous buzz and supplying enough power to light a small city.
So Remus wasn’t the first Ambition clansmen to discover the flashy technique. He tried not to feel disappointed. Or maybe Brison really had gotten a hold on the ability that quickly.
Both of them were locked into a stalemate. Remus felt the pressure of Brison’s will press down against him, trying to fry his body like meat on an open fire. Yet Maris had prepared him well. After grappling with the mind of a God-Graced, Brison was light pickings.
He took a step forward, pushing the man back.
Brison looked like he wanted to say something. To spit a whole book’s worth of curses, hexes, and threats his way. He didn’t waste any effort, but Remus allowed himself a smile.
He wouldn’t show fear in front of anyone who served Enos. Regardless of if they had been a former friend.
Finally, when forced to step back again, Brison swiped his second blade in front of Remus — the white and red blade, a strange hybrid of fire and solid Ambition.
It flared to nearly three time’s the size, the point pressing against Remus’ chest. A slither of blood trailed down his stomach, evaporating before it could even reach his knees.
Remus focused on the Ambition that made up the mystical weapon. Mind over matter, he was going to undo Brison’s second blade, just as he had the first. But this time, Brison put up a much better fight.
The blade shook in the air, the veins in Brison’s arm welling up, as if Ichor was about to burst out.
Then the man lurched backwards. A sudden torpedo of flame had flared behind Brison’s back. Veida was pressing him with her own attack. Remus felt hope flare in his chest; the end was near.
From out of Brison’s mouth, a pillar of fire poured into Remus’ face. His skin was seared, his eyes blinded by an infinite white for two terrible seconds. He suddenly felt very small. All of his Ranks of advancement seemed to wash away, and it was like he was seven years old again. Helpless, and by all metrics of success, utterly worthless. If Brison had destroyed his eyes-
But no. He blinked, able to see again, his own eruption of flame holding back Brison’s onslaught. The man had turned to the side, his sword facing towards Remus, and his other hand sending a stream of heat towards Veida.
How funny. Gone were all of their fancy techniques. When the going got tough, it seemed like everyone returned to the most surface-level abilities. Maybe they provided a level of comfort.
No way in hell was Brison going to be able to divide his attention between two Splintered Ranks. Remus focused all of his willpower onto Brison’s blade, and swore he could hear the man’s teeth grinding together as the upper point of the blade began to disperse. The rest of the weapon soon followed, and inching ever closer-
Blood poured from Brison’s mouth, and all of his fire abruptly dispersed. His blade was fractured into dazzling light, before disappearing altogether, and out of his chest, a rapier stabbed through.
Violet was holding the handle.
Brison’s head turned all around, and, muttering something incoherent, he slipped to the floor.
With a sigh, Remus allowed his own techniques to disappear. He kept his Mark active however, hunching down to examine Brison’s body.
A pool of blood was quickly amounting. Remus went numb at the memory of who this man had once been.
Gone was all of Enos’ influence. No, looking down, Remus saw nothing but an elderly man on the cusp of death.
“Medics!” He screamed. “Medics!”
Nobody moved an inch. Even Edmund, a man utterly loyal to his sect leader, looked as if all the muscle in his body had been replaced by stone.
“What are you doing!” Remus was shouting at this point. He let Ambition bleed into his voice. It had never sounded louder, each word demanding attention. “Your sect leader is dying! Medics!”
That seemed to do the trick. Four men quickly hurried to Brison’s side. Veida too went to assist them, though didn’t appear too pleased.
Remus expected to be out of breath. His body, newly reforged from his advancement, felt ready to fight for hours longer, but mentally, Remus couldn’t have felt more drained. It would likely take hours before he mentally adjusted to the Rank, for his body and mind to work in tandem again.
“Violet.” He said, after getting a hold of himself. “Thank you for that. I think reaching Vanguard made me underestimate Brison’s strength. If it wasn’t for you-”
Violet leaped into a hug. Remus led his sentence drop, enveloping his arms around her. “I’m thanking you, dummy.”
Remus’s cheeks flushed, but shame tightened his throat. “All I did was leave you to bleed out while I fought Brison.”
“You freed me from his blade. We’re both safe now, that’s all that matters.” Violet pushed her head off his shoulder, locking eyes with Remus.
Was he supposed to do something? Part of Remus suddenly hoped she would kiss his cheek again. The rest of his brain made sure to pummel that part of him to smithereens. They continued to hold each other, like both were waiting for the other to pull away. It was about to get very uncomfortable, before Remus suddenly remembered how absolutely filthy he was.
“I should get washed.” Remus picked apart the pieces of Infirnite that had embedded into his skin. It looked like the tissue had fused back together against the loose crystal. The thought made Remus shiver.
“I should probably rest too.” Violet looked more shaken than ever. Remus wanted to hold her again, to tell her that everything was going to be alright, but controlled himself.
As he made his way to the nearest bathing chamber, his eyes wandered over to Brison.
Veida was observing his tainted Mark. She looked utterly dumbfounded, tracing a finger against the blackened skin. Apparently there were new nightmares in this world, terrible things that could alarm somebody as experienced as Veida.
Remus walked far away, trying not to shiver, the thought of a hot spring carrying him forward.
He really did stink.