Edmar was starting to get annoyed now.
Fists of plasma were hammering away at his goliath, each punch sending rivers of gold streaming through the air. It was a sunny afternoon, the light reflecting off the coins to blind Edmar, stationed as he was on a hovering vase.
This battle was progressing far too quickly to a draw, for Edmar’s liking. He had intended to takedown Remus, report back to Damosh, and return back to his personal chambers all in time for supper. At this rate, until Remus tired out, neither side was making any progress.
Edmar’s fingers latched around the cork of another elixir, without him noticing. It was habitual now, and he had to stop himself from taking another sip. The logical move would be to draw his power out; to play the long game. Using all of his potions now would only-
Edmar paused. What was he doing? Was he really strategising against someone, who, only two years ago, had been starved for power? Death-Marked through and through. If Remus was posing a challenge . . . his breakfast crawled its way back up Edmar’s throat.
He crushed the elixir. Shards of glass dug into his hand.
This was downright embarrassing. Remus needed to be dead and buried, left without even a grave to denote his pitiful life. Edmar had to ensure no body would be sent back to his family, that, once he became King, he would wipe every trace of his existence away from all records.
His existence would be erased. A few generations from now, the name Remus would evoke nothing but dust.
A sharp pain stabbed into Edmar’s skull. There, probing his mind, was the source of his Tainted Mark’s excess power.
Enos.
Why do you resist, my Paladin? I simply wish to grant you more power Edmar, more strength to help you topple cities with ease. If you had even a slither more of what I could grant you . . . well, you wouldn’t have your back against the wall, when up against an Ex-Death-Marked. You could be so much more!
As Edmar wrestled against the invading will, a terrible heat swarmed his body. Enos was pulling his strings, pressing Edmar’s buttons and exploiting his insecurities. Well Edmar refused to give in that easily.
I’m not resisting my Lord . . . yes, power, grant your humble servant all you can offer up. I am but a cup for you to fill.
Trying to hide his true intentions from Enos was like squeezing his brain in a chokehold. It was tortuous, his will an invisible barrier between the Unbounded, and the sanctum of his mind. But he fought, and all the while, Enos complied.
Edmar bit down on his lip, drawing Ichor. His body was spasming. What was happening? Had Enos noticed his betrayal? In his panic, Edmar could hardly control his gold titan — the apparition swaying on two colossal feet.
His skin hardened, his bones rattled until his entire skeleton shook in a mad trance, and his nails fell away in a shower of blood. Edmar tried to blink as his body tightened up, but his eyelids felt heavy; paradoxically, too heavy too close. Not out of fatigue — no, viscerally, and quite literally heavy.
When he finally did manage to blink, his vision clearing the blood leaking out of his eyes, Edmar was remade.
His body was metal. Golden, silver, with priceless jewels set all over his skin. Edmar had always been able to turn metallic, but never quite like this. Never had it felt so solid, so quietly powerful, so permanent.
His insides too. It was hard to tell, but probing a finger to the inside of his cheek, there was no moist tissue. Only hardened gold. Some kind of alloy, something that was nigh impossible to break.
All the strength of the most unbreakable diamond, but with the appearance of the smoothest gold. Enos couldn’t have sounded more pleased with himself. This is your final form Edmar. You will never be defeated again.
Edmar roared. What was this? He was starting to hyperventilate, but he felt no sweat pouring down his body, no heart jackhammering in his chest. It was like the organ had been replaced by a lifeless lump of coal.
How would Damosh regard him, when he returned looking like this?
Don’t panic. Edmar forced the words into his aching head. He tore the clouds of distraction away from the sky of his mind, leaving the lone blue sky of focus in their place. Reject any feeling of weakness. Accept this strength. Swallow your terror and use it as fuel. Kill that boy.
Edmar screamed, the sound echoing inside the metallic cavern of his belly, rebounding against itself until the sound was piercingly loud. He launched off the vase he had been perched on, sending it crashing to the ground below.
He took a seat upon the head of his goliath, raising both hands over his head. The creature echoed his warcry, standing up straighter as Edmar poured more and more resources into the beast. Rapidly, it began to grow. Its legs were terrible foundations, inflating to carry the weight of a giant that doubled in size. Horns extended next to Edmar, emerging out of the giant’s brow in pincers of gold. Edmar didn’t stop, a sea of power churning around him, all devoured by his eager servant.
By the time his eruption of power ceased, it had tripled in size. He looked down at Remus’ own beast of plasma through the passing clouds above, their moisture slapping against Edmar’s golden face. The wolfish creation bore up at Edmar in horror, hardly reaching up to the titan’s knees.
Then, far from finished, Edmar leaped down off his titan.
All noise was stolen from the world as Edmar made his descent. The wind brushed against Edmar’s metallic skin, more of a distant impression than something immediate. As if it was felt by another person. He reached terminal velocity swiftly, the gravity acting on his colossal weight ensuring his fall would be a swift one.
And before Remus would be able to realise what was happening, Edmar entered the plasma beast.
----------------------------------------
Remus had endured nightmares more pleasant than this.
The golden statue, taking the place of a flesh and blood Edmar, invaded his plasma sea. Remus wasn't completely resistant to heat either, at least not as thoroughly as, say, a Flame clansman. His fires were the flame of his Ambition, his lightning taking the same principle. This plasma, too, was an extension of that, hot as a sun, he would imagine. That was the only reason he was resistant.
Yet Edmar didn’t seem phased by the impossible heat. He swam through the haze of Ambition at a remarkable speed, rushing for Remus’ neck.
The man had changed. Just like Brison had. A monster had been brought out of him, summoned by Enos and put into the flesh. Or metal.
As their titans wrestled, Remus attempted desperately to control the flaming wolf remotely. Edmar was keen on brawling with him head-on.
The golden man acted as a cannonball, smashing into Remus’ chest. He was buffeted backwards, on the cusp of falling out of his creation.
Remus reached for his chains. Simultaneously, he created orbs of obsidian to float around, enveloping links around each. They would ensure he was locked in place. Edmar was able to control his giant from afar, but Remus’ mind was boggled trying to play puppetmaster and defend his own body too.
It was like trying to split his brain in half, each part fighting different battles, on different scales.
Edmar wouldn’t give him the chance to adjust.
The living statue blasted through the plasma like a pinball, redirecting the man every other second in an unpredictable frenzy. Remus ducked and weaved to avoid him, suddenly regretting locking himself in place. He had just made it easier for Edmar to bludgeon him.
With an additional flare of his Mark, Remus concentrated his Ambition into an obsidian shield, and a razor sharp blade, easily the size of a tree branch.
His senses screamed at him as Edmar blurred forward.
Remus got his shield up just in time, a colossal dent pressing through the rocky material. By the time Remus swiped back with his blade, the Wealth clansman was already gone.
It was like Remus was deep underwater, under constant threat of a hostile shark. One bloodlusted until all they saw was red.
He didn’t see Edmar at all for several seconds.
Another impact absorbed by the shield. It began to crumble, and Remus could only sustain its form through another surge of Ambition.
Outside, Remus’ titan was helpless. It became harder and harder to avoid Edmar as their battleground became ruptured with holes. Remus swerved out of the way of a golden fist one moment, tried to rebuild his giant of plasma the next, before finding himself under attack by Edmar’s hurtled form.
There was no winning this. All heroics, all of those platitudes he had told himself to raise his spirits: none of them meant anything.
It became too much. Golden, bejewelled fingers large enough to crush a shed stabbed through his goliath, digits enveloping around Remus. He spun in an arc, obsidian sword cleaving through from the thumb to the pinky.
Remus realised too late: he’d fallen into Edmar’s trap.
He couldn’t reorient himself fast enough. Edmar crushed against his side, and Remus muffled a cry as several of his ribs were crushed.
Before Edmar could attack again, Remus expanded his shield into a protective sphere that covered him completely. He was blinding himself to the broader fight of their titans, and Edmar had a field day crashing against his barrier over and over again.
Remus focused Ichor, Infinity, and Ambition all to his ribs. He couldn’t fight above the pain. He needed the chance to heal, and he was throwing every resource on hand to see himself repaired.
Already, he could feel the bone mending back together. Fusing inside of him with the miraculous healing of a Vanguard.
Suddenly, Remus lurched to the side. In fact, focusing on his spiritual senses, he could see the entire plasma giant toppling backwards.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He had neglected the two brawling giants long enough. Now he would pay dearly for it.
His protective shielding. If it survived, it was likely to absorb the brunt of the floor. All he had to do was keep it intact.
But Edmar’s onslaught was ceaseless. Did the man never tire? The sphere’s shape was punctured, bumped, and otherwise disfigured by the litany of blows.
Flaming Gold came to mind. If Remus used it now, there was no telling what would happen. He could exhaust himself for nothing. Then another idea came to mind.
Remus blasted out of the obsidian covering, snarling as Edmar came into view. He imagined those invisible strands connecting him and his giant, similar to the thread of United in Strife. He forced the bestial titan to dig its clawed feet into the ground.
The entire world seemed to groan as they were pushed backwards, Edmar’s golden powerhouse pushing with all its monstrous might.
Remus allowed his real body to endure punch after punch from Edmar. It was like being pummeled by a concrete monster over and over. Muscle purpled and bruised, and Edmar seemed dead-set on rearranging Remus’ skeleton.
He endured it all, for five seconds, giving total focus to his smoking behemoth. He commanded it to loop both arms around the other giant’s armpits, having to leap from the ground to reach. Next, legs crossed against the giant’s back, and the two embraced in an involuntary hug.
For one reality-warping moment, reality spasmed.
Plasma holding onto pure gold, Remus clicked his finger as another kick from Edmar threatened to knock his lights out for good.
And in doing so, Remus activated Eruptive Will.
Then his entire giant exploded.
At the last possible instance, Remus blistered the skin of his Mark as he summoned another sphere of obsidian in what felt like a nanosecond. If he had been any later, death wasn't out of the question.
There was the sound of two mountainsides smashing against one another, before collapsing. It was like Remus was back in that carriage, beaten against the walls like a ragdoll being thrown around by a mean-spirited child.
Even inside, he could feel the motion of falling. He channelled a burst of energy to expand the shielding, hoping to bury himself deep enough to survive the impact.
Remus closed his eyes, braced his entire body, and hoped for the best.
He jolted, lurched into the wall one more time, and had to wipe a stream of Ichor leaking down his nose. Finally, after seeming to roll around for an uncomfortable time, the stone prison came to a shaky pause.
With his free hand, Eruptive Will imbued into the fist, Remus smashed his way out. He was choking on the thick smog that had enveloped the area. The first two steps were far too wobbly for his liking. Remus quickly drew his obsidian blade, using it as a walking stick.
He didn’t have time to survey the damage, but he did not feel good at all. It hurt to move — to breathe — and he spent an uncomfortable amount of time in a coughing fit. Only when he shooed away the surrounding soot infesting the atmosphere, was he able to observe the remains of the battlefield.
Mounds of gold, all glaring in Remus’ eyes until he had to squint, were set alight, scattered across what looked to be a gigantic crater. Off to the side, on the lip of the depression, he saw a treeline set on fire. Some of it shimmied in the ethereal blue of his Ambition, but the resulting explosion had started natural fires too. A haunting red beyond his capability to control. Remus couldn’t do anything about the latter, but he withdrew any blue wisps in the immediate vicinity.
He had to pause for a second, sagging against the broadsword; desperately attempting to compose himself. That one use of Eruptive Will had stretched the ability to its limits. Now he wasn’t sure how much more power he could draw from the Mark.
Yet Remus wasn’t completely out of gas yet. Apparently Vanguards, enhanced as he was by all of his abilities, could keep fighting for a long, long time.
Remus suddenly cursed. His clansmen, his brother! If he had accidentally injured them in that explosion-
He was only able to breathe again when he saw the threads of United in Strife were all intact. They were still empowering Remus now. Despite feeling like a walking corpse, Remus had to smile at that. He wasn’t alone. They were fighting with him, encouraging him to stay alive.
Remus was able to stand up a little straighter, and though he still needed the blade to help him walk, he found his courage returning.
His eyes roved around for any sign of Edmar. All he could hear was the subtle crackling of the fires, the metallic scent of burnt metal attacking his nostrils. Finally, after resisting the moon’s arrival for hours, a belated night sky replaced the last drifts of sunlight. Within minutes, Remus was fully immersed in darkness.
Even the fires encasing the area had seemed to settle to a low burn.
Time continued to trickle past, and yet Edmar proved as elusive as ever. Remus’ mind showed him endless images of that metallic form he now bore. It radiated a dark energy, the same demonic sensation he was graced with in the presence of Brison.
A secondary form, a permanent alteration, provided by a Tainted Mark. Remus had to wonder, if Enos were to somehow coerce Remus into his army, what kind of power might be unlocked within him?
He shivered at the thought. It was better to fight demons than to become one.
Maybe three minutes had passed when Remus was starting to contemplate on whether Edmar had been destroyed. Without Remus’ resistance to Ambition, the blow would have devastated the Wealth clansman, even with his reforged body. Remus could have been walking through the man’s ashes, and be none the wiser.
Then he saw him, and all hope of that lucky outcome was snuffed out.
Cracks ran down Edmar’s golden body, and though the small streaks of the same colour were hard to make out in the gloom, Remus recognised them for what they were: Ichor. So the man could still bleed. Gaping holes where jewels had been set were now glaringly empty. Edmar was dented in a myriad of places, deforming the man until he was a little too gangly, a little too wide.
Remus held out his obsidian sword in a defensive stance. A wave of coins spun around Edmar’s fist.
“Some trick you pulled there, Remus.”
“Let’s face it.” Remus tried to blink out the Ichor running into his eyes. “I’m the strongest foe you’ve ever faced. You’ve never been pushed this far before, have you?” Remus pointed the tip of his blade towards Edmar. “And that infuriates you.”
For once, Edmar kept his mouth shut. Evidently, he was done with words.
So let our actions speak for us.
At once, the two dived forward.
The sword felt heavy in Remus’ hand, but he managed to swipe away a hoard of gold Inklings. He rolled aside just in time to avoid another golden barrage, but the movements were sloppy. As Edmar pressed in for the kill, Remus had to keep reminding himself to stay moving. He needed to muster energy he didn’t have, ignoring his body's cries for rest until it relented.
He managed to summon just enough power from his Mark to set his free hand alight. Lightning was far too draining, and he didn’t want to risk the millisecond it would take to draw the chains from around his waist.
Exhausted beyond compare, Remus would have to fall back on his basic training. Part of his guard duty required him to be trained in all traditional weapons. Swords, axes, and other handheld-blades weren’t usually Remus' forte, and swiping around his chains didn’t require much expertise. Sure, Violet had gone over proper form with him briefly during their stint through the grasslands between First Rite and Hybrid, but mind-numbing drills under the careful eye of superiors had seen Remus’ swordsmanship skyrocket. The guards at Eclipse had been serious about their traditions, and now Remus couldn't thank them enough.
He feigned, waited until Edmar left himself open, and struck out with his fist. He didn’t dare waste any energy with fancy techniques. Simple fire and manpower, however, saw Edmar thrown to the floor.
Remus pounced.
He dug his leg against the beaten platinum of Edmar’s chest, holding his sword against his neck. There, the man struggled for an embarrassingly long time. After wrestling with the clansman for what felt like hours, Remus finally managed to tie his chains around Edmar’s hands. The other end of the links he hastily buried under a rock, right before Edmar could yank himself free.
Remus took a second to regather his strength, before aiming the sword tip at Edmar’s throat.
“Free my friends.” Remus said quietly. It hurt to speak.
Edmar spat. “Why should I?”
Remus kicked the man, denting his shoulder plate. His squeal resounded through the wasteland for miles. “You want me to remind you what the situation is? I should kill you where you lie.”
Truth be told, Remus was very tempted to. He would have, if not for the fact he was conscious of his diminishing energy reserves. Remus wasn’t sure if he had the strength left to finish Edmar off. He was hoping to keep him put long enough for somebody to come along, to provide assistance, but wasn’t entirely sure who he expected to arrive.
When Edmar remained silent, Remus transferred the flame from his left hand to cover his sword. Recycling the energy saved him from having to abuse his Mark further.
“Enos did me the favour of turning you into a nice ornament. When my flame finally melts through your neck, I wonder, where in the Carpentry Sect should I place you?”
Edmar screamed, struggling against his confines. Remus pressed his feet into the ground, forming deep imprints in the ground below. The outer gold of Edmar’s throat began to melt, a blinding contrast to the dark veil of night.
If Edmar wasn’t going to comply, there was no way Remus was going to risk having his clansmen killed. He realised now that no help was coming. So he would do his best to see the clansmen dead. Besides, if worse came to worst, and he had to flee, Edmar was in no position to come chasing.
He had maybe dug through a couple centimetres into the metal, drawing the first droplets of blood, when they appeared.
Five black rifts.
They each dragged Remus in separate directions, but there was one thing in common between them. Each was forcing Remus away from Edmar.
Remus did his best to wrestle against the compulsion, twitching in place. In the meantime, Edmar transformed his arms. Metal spikes replaced Edmar's arms, thin and elegant weapons. They were slim enough to slip away from his chains.
Edmar rose to his feet, stretching in place.
He opened his smug mouth, as if to say some snide comment right before slipping away.
Remus wouldn’t let him.
In a final blast of power that would see his Mark guttering out, Remus moved just enough to raise his obsidian sword. White, simmering light devoured the entire weapon, and with one final thrust, it sliced through the air.
And pierced through Edmar’s chest.
Edmar put his hands to the bleeding cavity, his lips widening in silent horror. Golden Ichor stained his fingers, emerging from a fountain in his upper body that gushed the golden liquid out in a relentless stream. Two of the rifts locking Remus in place abruptly closed, only three remaining. But Remus was spent. It took all his willpower just to stay conscious. There was no way he would be able to fight his way free.
The Wealth clansman wobbled on his feet, a tide emerging from the recesses of his mouth, to overflow through diamond teeth. His hands clutched the blade, and, seeming to deem it too dangerous to pull the weapon out here, began to turn tail and run.
A stream of Ichor followed him, but Remus was helpless to follow it.
For three minutes, Remus could do nought as the trio of rifts refused to disappear. Edmar had slipped right out of his fingers. All of those years of accumulating power, and for what? Edmar would always be ahead of him. With an endless mountain of elixirs at hand, and Enos eager to empower the man indefinitely, he could progress just as fast as Remus, if not quicker, without any of the effort. The blood, sweat and tears that made Remus who he was was replaced by pharmaceutical, artificial enhancement. How could he compete?
His thoughts only grew darker as the seconds dragged by. The reverie of misery only subsided when some familiar faces crept into view.
“Remus!” Damion called.
Behind him, Edmund, and the rest of their combined Ambition and Carpentry forces, all looked to Remus with relief.
Finally, the rifts disappeared. But Remus could take no solace in that fact. Edmar must have been too out of range to keep the ability active. He had gotten away.
“Edmar, we have to-” Remus’ legs buckled underneath him. He took a second to centre himself, getting back to his feet with the aid of Damion. “We have to catch up to him. Have to stop him before he-”
“You’re in no position to fight.” Damion said sternly. His severe tone left no room for debate. “You defended us all, and we’re grateful for that, but we can’t go rushing back into danger after barely getting out of it.”
Tal’s face suddenly appeared before Remus’ eyes. That defenceless old man. If it wasn’t for him, if it wasn’t for Remus getting imprisoned, he might still be alive. The least Tal deserved was to be revenged. And Remus couldn’t even do that.
“You don’t u-understand.” Remus slurred on his words. “He’s almost dead. He might bleed to death if we stop him from getting back to safety. If he survives, he’ll only come back stronger. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. He’s a . . . he’s a monster. ”
But Damion wouldn’t relent. It was like speaking to a brick wall.
Remus found his eyelids too heavy to open now, but he recognised Edmund’s voice. “He’s right, Remus. You need to rest. Edmar may be able to get more powerful, but so can you. Next time we face him in battle, you won’t be alone. He’s a goner.”
Despite his internal war to stay awake, Remus’ body finally forced him to sleep.