Remus’ first reaction was to find shelter.
Then he recalled that ancient ruins from ages long ago were a lot less functional than they were visually-appealing. One droplet of the steaming stuff Tanguy was producing, and their primitive architecture wouldn’t last a second.
Remus wanted to scream, both out of fear, and frustration. Right when it looked like he had Tanguy on the ropes, the man turned around and unveiled this monstrosity. Remus had to grudgingly respect it, but nevertheless, if he didn’t come up with something fast, he was toast.
Like a gradually expanding net, the ability mimicked the same technique Veida and Hadrian had used to destroy that colony of Magma Flies so long ago. It wasn’t nearly as powerful, and by the looks of it, was driving Tanguy to breaking point, but it posed a very good chance of burning Remus down to his marrow.
Only if he let it.
Scrapping aside the idea to let his Mark rest, Remus risked driving himself to his own limit. A trickle of Ambition infested his entire outer body, boosting the endurance of his skin, and a spread of diamond flame blazed across his entire form in a protective layer. Remus was currently sporting the fire-resistant clothing Hadrian had gifted him so long ago, as well as actively focusing on leaving the leather unmarred. From the outside, you would only be able to espy his dancing silhouette through the armour equivalent of an inferno. Perhaps overkill? Remus didn’t think so.
Dying an agonising death at the hands of trickling lava didn’t sound appealing at all.
Remus whisked forward. He would have been faster if he directed a measle of his Ambition to his legs, but he didn’t possess that precise of a control over his Mark yet. Directing his energy to so many focuses simultaneously was a balancing act, one ready to topple over at even the slightest mistakes.
If his reaction time had been any slower, Remus would have perished a second later. Right ahead of him, a ribbon of lava whooshed through his path. These larger currents interwoven through the larger downpour were his real struggle here. The droplets themselves were fated to meet an anticlimactic end upon meeting his blazing barrier, but these larger stretches were far more condensed. They would cut through him like a thousand degree knife.
Flying past this lethal trap, Remus cursed under his breath. All of this was putting his Mark under some serious strain. Any prolonged period of this, and he would fall unconscious from pure exhaustion.
He had to get to Tanguy as quickly as possible. If he could break his Mark’s connection to the stream, it would be all over for the Emblazed. But then again, how long could Tanguy himself keep this cyclone up?
It was a battle of endurance, and based on Tanguy’s next move, he intended on winning.
The condensed currents all lashed out for Remus’ location.
He leaped upwards over one whip, outpoured flame through one hand to keep himself airborne as two more threatened to intercept his line-of-flight, and quickly allowed himself to drop. He hit the ground in a huff, barely avoiding decapitation by a hair’s breadth. Raising two fingers, Remus fired a tiny, arrow-sized fireball towards Tanguy. A strip of lava immediately blocked its path, before the spark could get in a metre’s vicinity of its summoner.
In a mad trance, Remus focused on nothing but evasion. These slashing constructs did a frustratingly good job at keeping Remus at bay, but he edged forwards, inch by inch. But time was ticking. As an Emblazed, Tanguy’s Mark was able to lash out damage far longer than Remus’. If Remus was going to win this, which virtually meant the same thing as surviving, he would have to reach Tanguy — and fast. Another minute of this . . .
Rolling behind a long-running wall, unconnected to any other sort of ruins, Remus decided to get risky. Diving down a set of stairs that must have been the basement of this would-be fortress, Remus let his Mark relax, uncalling the fire. Bricks and other detritus scattered across his feet, and the tunnel expanding ahead was nothing but pure darkness. He tripped over an odd bundle, possibly a sleeping man, before continuing to rush forwards.
Daring a glance behind, Remus eyed an advancing bundle of currents, alarmingly close to his exposed back. Remus prayed for their sake that whatever he had tripped over was a bundle of junk.
Don’t die, he croaked hoarsely to himself, don’t die, don’t die-
His eyes adjusted, and a looming set of stairs at the other end came into view, like Remus’ divine saviour. He actually yelped in glee, not far away from tears of delight, when Tanguy just had to ruin it.
Now from ahead, a separate set of advancing lava currents came to pulverise Remus’ flesh. His head turning between both directions, Remus saw nothing but an emerging, corrosive river at either end.
It was now or never. The grand show-stopper. Remus used up every drab of Ambition within him. Flames carpeted his form with a greater density than ever; pure, unfiltered Ambition surged through the nexus of his body, both drastically improving his tolerance to senseless pain, and revitalising him with so much strength it was stupid. His Mark screamed in blistering agony, but Remus even had that covered, doubling down on Tanish’s pain-killing properties.
A second before both crashing tides reached him, he shot upwards through the dirt.
----------------------------------------
Tanguy failed to steady his breathing, as he directed all of his focus on the lava circulating the immediate atmosphere.
He had only used the technique once before, under Hadrian’s direct instruction. Now, with Unbounded marching through the remains of his base, his mentor might not survive the conflict. And it was all Remus' fault. He didn’t know how, but there was a direct connection between the irritating young man, and the recent invasion. Veida kept her lips sealed, but he was certain the woman knew more than she told. And yet, she hadn’t displayed the desire to act upon that knowledge.
So Tanguy took the courtesy of acting for her.
Surely he’s dead now, he cocked an eyebrow at the narrow tunnel, or seconds away, at least.
For his health’s sake, Tanguy solemnly hoped that was true. His Mark was searing against his skin, his legs shook beneath him, but Tanguy kept one thing in mind, just one thing, and it was all he needed to keep going.
No matter how quickly Remus may have advanced, there was no way in hell Tanguy would lose to an Enkindled.
Tanguy made the mistake of blinking, and the universe grew erratic.
Something must have been incredibly wrong with his vision, for the man saw a misleadingly convincing sight. It was of mounds of earth, bursting through the air with unfounded ferocity. He blinked again, but reality refused to return. A dot of blue flew out of the eruption, expanding into a sapphire wildfire like a stain on Tanguy’s eye. It moved too quickly for him to intercept, lava ribbons rendered useless obstacles.
A sucker-punch sent him flying, and in his petrified daze, Tanguy lost his bearings. The stone material of the domed roof came crashing towards his back, his Mark guttering out as Tanguy’s hold on the lava streams failed. Falling with a pitiful squawk that disgusted even him, Tanguy heard his brain rattle in his skull. The man to his left, the very same who couldn't possibly be Remus, dived out of the way, as the lava pool melted through the ruin’s stone.
Shocked gasps from all around sent Tanguy’s mind spinning. Coughing out smoke, he struggled to an upwards position, blinking furiously as he found himself in a half-melted chamber. The lava streamed through a gap in the cracked wall, slowly flooding outwards as the resource itself dispersed. Without Tanguy’s intervention, it would soon fade away completely — borrowed might returning to Ashbel.
There was a rustling to Tanguy’s side, and he instantly recognised it.
Both men leaped to their feet, extending out a hand and screaming. The last remnants of their Marks’ let out a trickle of fire each, red on blue, before the pair buckled in unison. Fuzzy dots appeared in Tanguy’s vision, his world nothing but the pain.
He had gone too far. His Mark, located across his nape, refused to settle.
The burning, he thought through watery eyes, its burns so bad.
As a Flame Sect clansman, Tanguy had enjoyed his fair share of fire-resistance. But the sensation his abused Mark was omitting, the illustration of Ashbel escaping the advance of the Water goddess, was out of his range of protection.
Remus must be feeling a similar level of pain, he realised, heaving. In a few moments, I should recover quicker as an Emblazed, and Remus will be-
A dark shape approached from the corner of his vision, blurry in his peripherals, but undeniable. The shadow picked up something unidentifiable from the ground, trudged over, and brought it before Tanguy. He tried to leap out of the way, but his Mark — his damn Mark.
In the agony, he could do nothing more than roll over.
Remus held the object to his throat.
Gods above. He’s going to kill me. Tanguy was as sure as that as anything. He's going to kill me, and there’s nothing I can do.
The man lowered to Tanguy’s level, all the weight of the world in the action, and he prepared to hear the words that would seal his fate.
There was an awkward pause.
“Do . . .” The ginger man huffed. “Do you surrender?”
----------------------------------------
Remus held the jagged piece of marble in his left hand, acting now before his adrenaline wore off.
Tanguy merely stared at him blankly, so Remus repeated himself. “I said . . . do you surrender?”
The man below flickered his head in all directions, as if searching for some means of getting out of here. None came. “No.” He mouthed. “No.”
Remus glowered. “No?”
He had to get this done and dusted with, and quickly. The crowds had gone from being entertained from the utter havoc of the duel, and now bored beyond belief. Such was the attention span of the average person when something wasn’t being destroyed. Remus wasn’t committing a crime here exactly, but the equivalent of law enforcement around here wouldn’t be happy with the disturbance they’d caused, to say the least. Plus, once word got out of his identity . . .
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
No, it wouldn’t be good. Not good at all. His criminal background would permit him no saving grace, simply because he was within Divine Ground.
Tanguy didn’t mutter a word, deflated.
“Surrender.” Remus urged. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“You might as well.” Tanguy hissed, slamming his fist against the marble. “First the destruction to the Flame Sect, and now . . .” he clenched his teeth, firing a look of visceral hatred Remus’ way. “I’m bested by a nobody like you. Again!”
He continued to squirm, donning childish mannerisms as he hammered against the floor.
It was here that it dawned on Remus: Tanguy hadn’t truly believed that Remus had been behind the Unbounded attacks. That was just a front, a flimsy, seemingly noble reason to hunt Remus down. Maybe he had convinced even himself, but nevertheless, it was his hubris that had led him here; not his heart.
Because, after all this time, the man couldn't accept that he’d been bested by an Engorged.
It was risky to stay here, but Remus felt a sense of obligation to say something. “Some people grow stronger at faster rates than others, but that doesn't undermine the-”
“Shut up!” Tanguy screeched. “Don’t speak to me like a child. I get it, you weren’t involved with the attacks — there, happy?”
Remus looked down at Tanguy, unable to hide the pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry what happened to the Flame Sect,” he said gently, facing a sizeable gap in the wall. A cloak of flame trailed his back and hands. “I’ll do everything in my power to crush the Unbounded, I promise. But first-”
Flames erupted behind him, producing a sound reminiscent of an engine. “I have people to protect.”
Remus flew off, not offering Tanguy so much as a look back.
Remus had, at most, a few minutes before he would find himself in a state not too unlike a squirming Tanguy. Which wasn’t much help, especially when two figures in the corner of his eye were already advancing on him.
Can't catch a break, he scoffed. Oh well, it wasn’t like he had been expecting a welcoming party when he stepped foot into the city, but this all really did seem like overkill.
He would have to make a quick escape. Unless his attackers decided to sit them all down and arrange a duel — which seemed highly unlikely — Remus wouldn’t be able to harm them with his Mark, whilst they were perfectly in the right to thrash him. His Mark was still active, however, and so peaceful acts like simply evading harm would be his only licence.
The first of the dots followed a few metres to his left, eight insectoid arms extending from the woman’s torso. The Arachnid Sect was known to have some of the most extreme bodily alteration in the Mortal Realms, to the extent that Remus couldn’t identify how much of her appearance was permanent, and how much was temporarily donned through Mark activation. He discovered that, oddly, he wasn't keen to find out.
Webs shot out of her tendrils. Half of the strands didn’t reach anywhere near Remus, and the rest burnt to a crisp, ultimately failing to entangle him. The other individual, the same man who was summoning icicles to rotate through the air, didn’t possess much more luck.
Feet landing on grass, Remus slipped where he stood — a sheet of ice forming instantly. His head collided against the chilly surface, the world suddenly growing very dark indeed. A wiry material ensnared his lowered body, as if sowing a cocoon around him strand by strand. His flames had vanished, the icy substance growing across his very flesh in competition with the webbing for territory. In the distance, the grey block that was the entrance to the Undercrossing taunted him. So close . . .
Screeching, Remus activated his Mark to its limit for one nanosecond. It hurt like hell, but both frost and string vaporised.
He didn’t wait for two advancing shadows to crush him. Dashing into the flock of travellers, Remus hid in the power of numbers. He’d previously heard that spiders had a monstrous amount of eyes. Yet again, somewhere in the back of his mind, Remus also recalled that the creatures were apparently lacking in the vision department. As contradictory as both statements sounded, Remus hoped for his own sake that the latter was true. The agony consuming every fibre of his body was nauseating. If they found him, Remus had as much chance of surviving as an ant disturbing a God-Graced’s rest.
I’ll be one of the few men to have ever died in Divine Ground. Lucky me!
Plunging deep into the Undercrossing, Remus barely paid attention to his surroundings as he trudged inside, every second a war to remain conscious. Get to a tunnel, and then you can drool against a wall all you like, Remus told himself, as much good as it did him. He barely paid attention to the signs, and in his dazed state, found himself remembering an exchange he had with Violet when first travelling to this accursed kingdom.
A huge reason as to why the two decided to circumvent the Undercrossing on the arriving trip was because of this scenery right here: being attacked at by clansmen luring at every corner.
Collapsing, Remus let his eyelids droop as he found himself in an empty tunnel. Snapping an eye open a few minutes later, he lifted up his leather tunic to observe his Mark. It was longer than ever, faintly radiant through the encompassing darkness. The illustration had expanded considerably, the snapshot of space it allowed a mystical sight.
Space. The original battlefield of the gods. How badly had the deities scouraged the expanse? It was rumoured to be infinite, but Remus’ mind failed to understand that notion. Throughout his life so far, he had learnt that absolutely everything had its expiry date. Everything. And most of the time, it was far, far earlier than Remus would have liked.
His Mark had stopped burning now, but Remus immersed himself deeper into this reverie. After the hell he had forced his body through, he thought he deserved a little more rest than the bare minimum.
His entire life, when it came down to it, was extending the brevity of the things closest to him. The Carpentry Clan, The Ambition Sect, the survival of those dear to him.
Without his intervention, everything would crumble. Or was that his ego simply spoon-feeding him lies? To justify his decisions? No matter how much he deliberated, he could never know. If action was the only tool in his arsenal, his only way of ensuring none of these things occurred, he would have no choice but to use it.
And yet, even if he dedicated the rest of his life to protecting these few precious things, be it in a thousand, or a few hundred years later, chances were, both sects would be crushed. At the root of it, the Celestial War was the core of all his problems. In the grand schemes of things, neither of the sects had a chance of prevailing. And no matter how much strength he amassed, no matter how many impulsive decisions he cannonned towards, that would never change.
Exhaling, Remus got up, and stretched. Up above, he read the titles for each section. His eyes landed at Sonic, a grin sprouting above his chin.
Well, I do have to make a speedy escape . . .
He reactivated his Mark, expecting crippling pain, but none came. Nothing severe, anyhow. Remus extended two arms behind him, angled forward and down, and immediately swivelled round in alarm.
A sheet of ice was forming across the ground. Remus let out a muffled curse. This is what he got for taking some time for himself. Oh right, I forgot I’m not allowed to rest.
Remus leaped ahead into the gloom, a curtain of azure fire propelling him forwards.
----------------------------------------
Packing up her supplies, Violet prepared to venture further into the surrounding darkness. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been travelling in this forsaken tunnel, living out her days in almost complete darkness. It had been a rather long time since it had set in, that beyond a shadow of a doubt, she’d selected the worst possible route.
Half of the Infirnite making up the torches had shattered, and the designated spots for rest integrated into the design of the walking route were in disarray. Sure, they were only large blocks with dispensable water available at the sides — glorified camping sites — and yet these places had now been reduced to junkyards. No safe haven would be granted.
Any longer of this, and Violet was going to lose her sanity.
She exhaled, refilling her waterskin from the pools at the side. At the bottom of the pit, a sparkling blue crystal sat. The Water Sect’s equivalent of Infirnite. Seastone was a less common resource, rumoured to be found in the deepest reaches of Descent’s one ocean, that dominated the vast majority of the Mortal Realms past the Pangea’s reach.
Its main functionality was pumping out copious amounts of water at seemingly random intervals. Slowly, by doing so, it would sacrifice itself layer by layer. However long this place had been abandoned, it must have been some time ago indeed, for the entire floor of the site was drenched. Shoes soaked, Violet somehow managed to keep her temper in check as she swished the waterskin through the depths.
At one look at what was inside of it, she dropped the article.
The face of an Unbounded peered back at her, right where her reflection should be. Violet blinked, and, miraculously, it was gone. She froze for a moment, before the many components of her brain came to the executive decision to punch the water’s surface repeatedly.
She was tempted to throttle the water more, before grudgingly deciding it was not not the liquid’s fault. Sighing, Violet picked back up her floating waterskin, now bloated to the brim. Taking one more suspicious examination of the water vessel, she saw it to be empty. No scary alternate version of herself coming to split her stomach open.
That was when she heard rustling behind her. Immediately, Violet swivelled round, Mark blazing. Chaotic energy pervaded the atmosphere, awaiting its chance to wreak absolute havoc with reckless abandon. Nothing caught Violet’s eyes, shifting around uncomfortably.
That was, until she heard the frantic flapping from up above. Tiny shadows stirred in the gloom, squeaking in an eerie symphony. The dark ambiance wasn’t her cup of tea exactly, she preferred the pitter-patter of rainfall, but nevertheless, a weight left her shoulders. Whilst annoying, bats would be harmless.
Tevial’s havoc, she cursed, if bats are starting to call this place a home, when was the last time this tunnel was checked?
It wouldn’t be out of the question that Violet had somehow stumbled upon an abandoned section of the Undercrossing, but that prospect sent a tremor down her spine. But, no matter how unnatural it felt, Violet pulled herself together. If anything, that eerie notion was just fuel to her rapidly growing motivation — motivation to get out of this artificial cave right this second.
Violet gathered her supplies, shook herself off, and headed onwards. The sound of her feet slamming against the rocky surface below was enough to overlay the incessant squeaking. So her mind, finally, was allowed to rest.
For approximately five seconds.
Landing directly before her, a creature that was definitely not a bat confronted Violet. Sure, it had the vague shape of a flapping mammal, but Violet knew an Unbounded when she saw one. Grey-skinned, with fangs about a foot long extending out of either end of its exaggerated maw, the fiend merely hovered before her. Violet wasn’t so courtly.
In one terrifying reflex, she focused on the reality surrounding the beast. Then, as if scrunching a piece of paper, she compressed the enveloping space without missing a beat.
The Unbounded screeched, resisting. Violet frowned. It must have been slightly more powerful than she’d anticipated. Judging from the fact it was beginning to mutter something to her, yet another of Violet’s horrifying predictions proved true.
“Praise Nova.” The words rung with squeaking agony, as if each syllable was being spat through a mouthful of blood. Chances are, they probably were
Then, it stopped resisting. Before Violet could even double-down on crushing the life out of the monstrosity, it seemed to surrender itself. Or, more specifically, its physical mass: their Infinity.
Without her interference, the pale white molecules flew through the atmosphere, bizarrely visible through the near-darkness. Like bone-meal dispersing through the air, it rushed towards her. Violet flapped her hands feverishly in refusal, but the strands of Infinity couldn't care less about her reaction. She could do nought as the otherworldly substance seemed to . . . become part of her.
Violet felt her inner strength expanding a mere smidge, barely enough to be recognisable, and then, nothing. Dropping to her knees, Violet almost gagged.
That Unbounded . . . it dawned on her, it recognised me as a subordinate of Nova, and sacrificed itself.
So she could grow stronger. Violet was close to retching at the thought. No, not close, not even teetering on. She doubled over, vomiting on some poor patch of the wall.
Blinking out the moisture from her eyes, Violet inevitably recognised the entire colony of the Unbounded, hanging upside-down from the oval roof. Without a second thought, she screeched at the top of her lungs. Pure, unfiltered Chaos energy swept through the length of the passage, collecting up the Infinity of the mock-bats like dust in a sandstorm.
If the Unbounded were so stupid as to offer her power, Violet would gladly take every morsel. And she wouldn’t stop there.
The key to her advancement was obvious now; as clear as day.
If she needed to become more intune with Infinity, and increase the depth of her concentration, then consuming more of the stuff was the obvious solution. And if slaughtering thousands of Nova’s minions was Violet’s path to getting there, then she would walk it with pleasure.
Before Violet, tiny slits through space opened up to her, connected tears manifesting wherever remnants of the enemy laid in recovery. Like meaning wormholes, perfectly sized for her arm. She sent her fists flying towards them all.
A cyclone rumbled around Violet, and within its whirling tides, dormant power awaited.