Violet spluttered sand out of her mouth, surfacing from a hill of the fine particles. Blinking through sensitive eyes, the image of sand dunes spreading out for as far as she could see made her feel as though she’d awoken in an alien world.
Everything had happened so quickly. Like she’d read through one of the passages in Veida’s journals a little too fast to understand. Now, Violet was left two-thirds immersed in a mound of sand, and altogether perturbed.
She’d teleported to Remus with the intention of dispatching the last of the Mammal Clan. It had been a weaker squadron than either of them could have hoped for in good faith. Violet had been expecting an easy clean-up job before the two of them rushed off to reunite with Koa.
That plan had been foiled the moment Violet laid her eyes on the Sand Clanswoman. She could almost imagine her holding up a sheet of scribbled lines, Violet’s mental predictions put to paper, and holding it over a candle wick.
She was dressed in more layers of cloth than Violet cared to count, all muted tones of desert-centric shades. Jewellery adorned her too, in contrasting hues virtually explosive with their brightness.
She and Remus had dashed for her in tandem, Violet’s Mark scarcely given enough time to activate, as nothing but the faint, yellow-grey haze of sand clouded their vision. The solid tides washed over them, sweeping the pair upwards like flotsam.
Now here she was. Finally, Violet teleported to the surface, flapping down her robes as best she could. Her palms chafed against the coarse grains, her stomach in a nauseous flux. Violet walked off the uneasy feeling, scouting out the area. She couldn't see Remus anywhere, but wasn’t too concerned for his safety.
After everything Remus had come out of the other end of, somehow stronger, he could probably be banished to hell and still return with some new power to flaunt.
Consumed by swells of magenta, it took Violet a surprising number of hops through space before she stumbled across somebody.
The clanswoman strolled over a hill of sand that trailed her feet in worming tons. The body of an unfortunate clansman, his furs that of the Mammal Clan, near her feet. Whenever she wasn't looking, he’d pull himself through the terrain one hand after the other. Violet winced, imagining how grazed his forearms must be. She cringed more so at the way he would play dead, any time the robed woman would flicker her gaze back at him.
It was obvious to any outside observer that she was fully aware of the man’s antics. His ignorance would have been downright deplorable in any other instance, but Violet felt a tinge of pity. Their legs must have suffered grievous wounds, somewhere along that conflict. Either at the hands of the woman’s sand, or perhaps Remus himself. That plasma attack of his had lit up the area for well over a mile.
Trying not to focus on the line of gold smearing the maimed man’s path, she angled her chin upwards, as a familiar face flew into the fray.
Flew as in he ran. Remus would have been far too drained to risk any strenuous Mark usage so soon. If he was still maintaining the blaze on Koa’s fortifications, that would necessitate an even greater need to hold back on the energy consumption. Especially when considering how much attention a man flying through the power of sapphire fire would have been.
Violet couldn’t be sure if the woman had noticed either of them. Piles of sand guarded them both, a sort of soft ravine in between her and Remus.
She was tempted to appear by him in a blast of Chaotic power, but that would have been risky. The energy that stunt would emit could be all the indication this clanswoman needed to be revealed to both of their locales. And how strong was this woman anyway? Violet couldn’t sense too much power emanating from her, but not just anybody with a Mark of the Sand deity would have been able to so drastically alter the environment.
So she was stuck in a predicament. Violet did so much as risk a few gestures to Remus, who reciprocated them with his own boisterous movements.
It wasn’t anything elaborate, just acknowledging each other’s existence. Violet wasn’t given much more time to signal, however, as what looked like a concentrated storm swept around the clanswoman. A microcosm of the hurricane she had conjured upon arrival. Out of those fluttering particles, the vague shapes of heads, then arms and legs appeared.
More clansmen arrived. One of the group, likely the highest positioned, next to the woman, dropped a knee. “Warlord Saya. I have news from Javil.”
“Arriving soon?” She looked tempted to roll her eyes. “Took him long enough.”
Two pieces of information. Two proverbial bullets right into her gut. This woman, Saya, was a Warlord, and by the sounds of it, the Sand Clan’s sect leader was arriving any minute now. If there was any reason to run at the nearest opportunity, this would be it. But fate had other plans, and things were escalating too fast for even her to react.
Another seizure in the dancing sands, this time revealing Javil.
The air continued to tremor in a lingering haze, and Violet blinked several times. After every snapping open of the eyes, she half-expected the man to fully appear.
She waited and waited. Only a cloudy blur remained, however, a vague swirling pattern in the wind substituting for eyes.
Their voice was fairly ordinary, for a God-Graced at least. Masculine with an underlying sense of threat.
The great swerves of amber looked around the sandy vista. They shone brighter with approval. “Good work.”
The gathered clansmen and Warlord stood patiently, waiting for him to continue. Violet found herself leaning forward dangerously too. The seconds passed, tightening with anticipating tension, but nothing more was uttered.
Not a man of many words then, huh?
Violet was about to use this uneventful pause to risk sneaking past, when another presence arrived.
A presence’s whose energy, like the power equivalent of a moon joining the dinner table, she was all too familiar with.
Juniper arrived out of seemingly nowhere, likely using some impossibly high level Wilderness technique Violet couldn’t begin to understand. She met her eyes with Javil immediately. Violet compressed herself against the sand below, expecting a fight to break out. Past experience sent adrenaline pulsing through her body, but, strangely, Violet sensed no malice from anyone present. Nothing evident for each other, at least superficially.
“Quite the progress you’ve made here.” Juniper smiled, seeing much farther with her God-Graced vision. “I’ll be sure to pay you handsomely, Javil and Saya.”
The storm that encompassed Javil’s being centralised, dust molecules converging like a clay model. The man of dust nodded. “Is it time?”
“That it is.” Juniper held the self-satisfied grin of a serial killer, which was rather fitting, seeing how she was one. Though, that didn’t exactly make her unique. “All the preparations have been made. Maris’ eastern fortifications have been foiled, her men scattered all about the city proper, and no one can stop us.”
Javil stood rigidly like a puppet with no strings. Not exactly admitting doubt, but not denying it either. “Let’s proceed.”
A part of Violet couldn’t help but think he truly had a way with words. The other was preoccupied with shoving down the notion she was way over her head.
“Summon your forces — mine are on their way any second now.”
In that same fashion, sprinkling dust amassed into several squadrons of Sand Clansmen. Scimitars were immediately drawn from most of them, the others manipulating the dust all around to forge their own makeshift weaponry.
From a hill off to the side, the first few of Juniper’s troops entered. None of them looked pleased to be there, but certainly eager for a fight.
“We’ll charge forwards immediately.” Juniper clearly had no qualms with taking the lead for the untalkative man. “The other clans have long since fallen into their own conflicts. Let’s leave them to it and seize the city for ourselves.”
As more soldiers arrived, Violet still hadn’t the slightest clue on how to advance. A three way brawl between a trio of God-Graced was not something Violet was keen to be caught in the middle of — her life wouldn’t be ended as mere collateral damage.
Remus was just as witless as her from the looks of it, occasionally shooting her one of his less pleasant looks. Violet was about to return the grimace, when something grasped her attention.
Grey clouds stretched around the skies, and Violet scoffed. Rain slapped against the bridge of her nose, the heavens emptying themselves of all contents. She bit her lip, mildly annoyed, when she noticed the looks of everyone present.
It was like they had all seen a ghost, or a rave of undead beings. Only when Violet backtracked did it hit her why they were all looking up so intensely.
Rain.
Her head jolted upwards, more moisture than she could fathom held aloft by one singular woman.
Maris was in her fully flesh and blood form, skin the shade of sea clams almost illuminating the sky for miles all around. Her shark-like teeth, downright monstrous at this angle, looked ready to tear a chunk out of the earth.
No words were exchanged. Not a single word to try and pacify things was attempted.
At that moment, in the quickest exchange of energy in her life, Violet transported her and Remus away. Her Mark seared against her skin at such a reckless activation, but it was either that, or being killed senselessly in the crossfire. There was no other way around it.
On the scale this brawl was going to take place on, they’d have a good view of it anywhere she took them.
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Remus had believed his days of feeling useless were behind him.
Or at least not so astronomically powerless. If not for Violet, he would have perished there. Vaporised by an atmosphere chocked full with enough Infinity and subject energy to fry his body. Along with every puny cell with it.
On top of a random stretch of battlements he found himself, learning against a stretch of crenellated wall. Physically, he’d recovered enough to fight at a passing level for a few more encounters, but it was pointless — there was nothing he could do to assist beings on such a level.
He could hardly breathe after those ten minutes of hell as it was. And still, Remus hadn't the faintest idea where Koa had gone off to, or if he was still even alive, for that matter.
After realising Violet hadn’t uttered a word, Remus forced himself back into reality. She leaned against the other side of the ancient castle wall, or whatever this structure had been, deservedly exhausted.
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He followed where her dropping eyes were focusing, and too found himself immersed in the havoc.
Thousands of tons — approaching millions — of sand was met with an equal amount of pure liquid. An ocean and desert clashed together, combing into a gigantic pillar of . . . mush.
It was on a scale that could hardly be quantified. Violet must have transported them a lengthy distance away, and for them to still be able to witness the conflict . . .
Remus thought that was insane enough, but then, of course, a giant of oak and various other wood types appeared, in the spitting image of Chantal. Its feet were planted hundreds of metres below, autumn leaves and wilting branches of winter contrasting each other, as humongous hands swatted through the air.
Each wave of the hand generated a mini tempest with enough force to devastate a small hamlet.
Blades of oak grew out of the titan’s hands, slashing through the vortex of slush like Juniper was trying to hone in on something. Discarded chunks, on a scale Remus quit trying to understand, flew towards the ground like molten comets.
Countless other weapons turned the skies into a circus show of sharp edges and knife points. Half-metal leaves cleaved through the air; weapons consisting of either sandstone, organic material, or ice annihilated one another. It was like a fencing contest whose only entry requirement was being invisible. All the natural material in the nearby vicinity flew towards the trio. Meagre food for insatiable titans.
Even from where Remus was standing, he identified water coursing out of the nearby plantlife. Entire trees uprooted themselves and flew to obey the call of Juniper’s Mark, disobeying gravity with each passing second of acceleration. Even the sands that had carpeted the environs previously were sent lashing through the air.
“They’re going to destroy the city at this rate.” Violet said to him at last, breaking their persisting silence. “I know coronations often get messy, but they never could have gotten this bad. Right?”
“I don’t see how something like this could easily be thrown under the rug.” Remus admitted, too transfixed by the raging battle to command his eyes elsewhere.
This was it. The peak; the upper ceiling of this world’s power. The kind that bordered on the very threshold of godhood.
Remus felt his Mark activate, seemingly out of its own volition. He stepped towards the edge of the building, one foot on the jutting battlement wall, literal drool on the cusp of leaking out of his mouth.
His stomach suddenly felt empty — his mind and body void too for that matter. Everything that made Remus Remus was now meaningless. A droplet in a cup that it was his life’s mission, his purpose, to fill. To fill and fill and fill and fill and fill-
“Remus!” Violet grasped his nape, pulling him back.
Remus felt his Mark deactivate. Endless bravado displaced by chagrin leaving him mortally ashamed. He looked from Violet’s concerned face, to the battle shaking the fabric of reality out there, and felt the blood flow to his face. What had he been thinking?
“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “I don’t know what got over me.”
Violet nodded, but that concerned look didn’t leave her face. “Does your Mark usually do that? Draw energy on its own?”
“I don’t know if it was by itself.” Remus said coyly, slowly fixing his gaze back to the fight. “It was more subconscious, I think. Seeing such power, right before my eyes . . . something inside me goes primal at the sight of it.”
But Remus was sure, watching as chunks of the watery vortex solidified into great ice chunks, that the feral instincts in anyone would be triggered by this fight.
Maris was attempting to disrupt Javil’s airborne vista, catching chunks of sand in gigantic cubes of ice that fell hundreds of metres to come crashing down below. The Water God-Graced was outmatched here greatly. Maris would have to bring out all the stops to keep up with the two, and even then, she would need something else to seize victory. Some hidden wildcard that could thwart both Juniper and Javil’s best efforts.
Juniper appeared by her giant’s shoulder, only visible to Remus as a pale dot within a luminous sea of emerald energy. Javil’s form, Remus heavily suspected, was spread out thin throughout tiny detached patches of sand. Each piece Maris tore out of his mass was sure to deal some damage, but how much?
A golem of dust splurged out of the slush remaining in the pillar, wrestling with a struggling Maris who had thus far remained hidden.
Booming winds swept out of the two of them, but this golem was only a fraction of Javil. Maris, in her full form, flooded the creature with slithering moisture.
Where that servant went flying, five more appeared. Splashes of water slapped against the quintet, which held for little more than a second, before too, succumbing.
With the sect leader of the Water Clan distracted, Juniper seemed to teleport behind the woman. She didn't literally, of course. Remus simply couldn’t keep up with the speeds this all was taking place at; the speed only wielded by those at the upper pinnacle of power.
With a sweep of the arm, Juniper swept out more of her spinning fronds. They reached Maris’ exposed back with astonishing quickness, and Remus felt his stomach drop at reality defying speeds.
The metal blades sprouted into killing machines, to be feared by anybody who cared even the slightest for their lives. They struck Maris, who erupted in an explosion of liquid.
Remus blinked, and three more clones of the Water God-Graced smiled down at Juniper. The woman clad in green frowned with enough severity to blot out the sun, tossing out emergency blades too swiftly for Remus’ eyes to pick up on. He didn’t even see the pair’s arms move.
Half-a-dozen exchanges took place in another second, the two accelerating beyond what Remus could make out through brief glimpses. Energy swept out, flickering the hoods of any poor soul caught in the midst of it. Which pretty much meant everyone in Hybrid’s inner city. Those who weren’t already fleeing, or dead, that was.
The skin on his face was tugged back in the summoned gust. Remus held on tightly to one battlement, but felt that too be dragged off, almost like his only handhold was disintegrating. Violet morphed her arm into its Unbounded counterpart, digging her claws into the ancient material. For all of twenty seconds, two God-Graced traded blows at point-black range.
If they didn’t stop soon, it wasn’t just the city proper they’d have to worry about. The whole of Hybrid could be jeopardised.
With one final eruption of Infinity and scattered energy, Remus felt the pressure give off him. He looked upwards, the sight of Maris’ boney teeth chomping into Juniper’s forearm almost comical.
Almost.
Ichor oozed out in light amounts. It wasn’t much, and if it wasn’t for the liquid’s ambient glow, Remus wouldn’t have noticed it at all. He was sure more would flow if he pricked the end of a finger. Nevertheless, the sight of it — of drawn blood — meant only one thing: war.
It was like liquid sunlight, any amount of that Ichor more than enough to create a budding Engorged. For even your own blood to be so powerfully concentrated, that but a drop if it could lead someone else on their own path to power . . . Remus’ Ambition threatened to go rampant at the thought.
Remus had to stop himself from stumbling backwards and off the ruin’s roof, when he finally tore his eyes away from the two women. Off to the side it stood, like the enormous elephant in the room. Outshining every other issue to become the universe’s most prominent. The upper echelon of proverbial, home-invading mammals.
Juniper’s giant hadn't been standing idly as its master fought to reclaim the throne. No siree. It loomed over them all, like Mother Nature’s dark counterpart. Only now reinforced with a coating of sandstone armour.
The ideal union of both biomes, Maris’ pool of water now flew before the terrifying construct. Right as the armoured titan drew a katana of twisting vines and sifting dirt, the Water God-Graced met the onslaught with equal measures.
Maris disappeared into her own personal bubble-ocean, even forgoing her teeth for full discretion. The liquid morphed into a vague shape Remus couldn’t identify. Excess water was drawn from the environment in gross amounts, even more manifested directly through the power of Water energy.
Tails, fins, and an undeniable oval shape all combined into a ferocious form. A form that with a few equally oversized, calcareous molars, was somehow more unnerving than the titan.
The shark almost challenged the wood giant for sheer mass, only outdone narrowly. Grey blurs within the world of blue took Remus a second to identify as actual sharks, within Maris’ nightmare creation. Sharks within sharks.
Now, Remus finally understood what Maris had inscribed onto her soul to make God-Graced.
Juniper’s blade fell, Javil’s erosive sand quickly spreading across its edge, just to sweeten the blow.
But Maris was faster.
Spear-like teeth, reminding Remus eerily of stalactites, bit into the fickle material. Its wooden core, beneath all the dirt and vines, was shattered. The greek shark pulled the destroyed weapon out of the giant’s grip, sending it flying below.
Remus almost forgot about his own existence until Violet laid a hand on his shoulder. “Think of all the collateral damage they’re causing. Do you think that’s why God-Graced don’t cross swords often? To avoid costly repairs?”
Scanning the skies to locate Juniper herself, Remus nearly scoffed. “No. They have others to fight for them.”
For minutes on end, the two behemoths roughed it out. Remus expected someone to grow fatigued, or for their Marks to flutter out, but nothing happened. Juniper’s own appearance previously in the battle meant that the giant was controlled remotely. Not an extension of one’s self like Maris’ liquid form, or Javil’s swirling sand. Yet, for the longest time, the woman evaded the spotlight.
Sure enough, long after Remus had given up looking for her, Juniper herself reappeared. Violet had to point her out for him, for the God-Graced was nowhere near the conflict at all.
Rather, the leader of The Wild sect was down below. What looked like four full units of her sect behind her.
“Imagine controlling something you forged with that much energy, from so far off, all while you collect your own back-up.” Violet shook her head, a hand to her brow. “Such precise control.”
“And so, so much energy left sitting in the tank. How do you go about exhausting a God-Graced?“
“Sounds like a riddle.”
Energy resonated from each gathered troop. Remus didn’t recognise Koa down there, and though it was hard to see, a tiny pinch of relief overcame him. Not too much, for Koa’s fate was still uncertain, but being dragged back to the Wild Sect screaming wouldn’t have been an ideal situation for his friend to be dealing with.
After an embarrassingly long time of speculating on what they were doing, Remus noticed an influx of energy emerging from Juniper’s titan. The few visible wood fibres not covered by Javil’s armour bulged, imbued with yet more sacrificial energy.
Titanic hands slapped onto either side of Maris’ shark, like some unspeakable sea creature grasping a lone boat. Only then, as cracks spread across its transparent surface, did Remus appreciate the tiny layer of ice sustaining the monster’s rigid form.
The sharks inside gnawed at nothing, unnatural fury binding them all to a common cause of isolated anger. More and more, Juniper’s titan squeezed. Gauntlets of turgid sand expanded the wrath behind their grip, and he and Violet instinctually covered their ears.
The ice shattered, with a central Maris appearing at the axis of the fluid. She extended her hands, broad, drastic movements channelling greater power as she held her creations’ shape manually.
The Wild Clansmen had hit their stride, their channelled power reaching a sort of crescendo. It was more of a testament to the clan’s power than anything Remus had ever before seen.
“Maris won’t die here, will she?” Remus felt wrong just uttering those words.
“Who's to say?” Violet sounded glum. “I don’t know if it’ll go that far. Possibly Maris being forced off the throne at worst, but the shame she’ll have to bear if that happens . . . I don’t think such a thing has ever occurred.”
With a heavy heart, Remus gazed back at the tumultuous battle. Like had just ran a marathon, he felt his breath accelerate, the sweat pouring off him with no end in sight. If Maris died here, his protection — their protection — against Nova would cease to be. That was a selfish thought, Remus knew that full well, but he still felt it all the same.
Yet no matter how much he hoped for her survival, things only grew grimmer. The fluid around Maris began to minimise, with the clutches of Juniper’s titan drawing ever nearer. Her chance of victory decreased with every passing second, threads of missed opportunity sweeping by.
Desperately, Maris was trying to seize those loosening cords, to deny fate its warrant for her demise, but her power was beginning to falter. Even the sharks had disappeared. Maybe death was too extreme, but if Maris teleported out of here to save her own hide, then that was it for her reign.
Remus’ depressed stupor was only stifled by something strange about Maris.
It was difficult to see from here, but she didn’t seem to stress. In fact, contrary to Remus' own rampant panic, the woman was calm, composed, and . . . what was that? Confident?
In his peripherals, Juniper flared with ire. Remus glanced at her, followed her grimace to its target, and forgot about Maris’ current predicament all together.
Because she hadn’t been in danger at all.
Remus hadn’t been attentive enough to take notice, but the excess energy supplied from The Wild clansmen had greatly diminished.
The fact they were all facing imminent danger may have had something to do with it. In one deadly bundle, the ratio of liquid that had disappeared from Maris’s shark creation had been transferred over. With about twelve, very angry, very lethal sharks in tow. Trapped alongside The Wild clansmen, who looked as hapless as ever.
Maris may have been able to turn things around after all.