Edmon ran down the intricate hallways of black, blue, and green; he doubted it initially looked this way. It was an odd aesthetic choice, but considering who redesigned it, he assumed most of the previous polished granite was too reminiscent of who the A.I. were modeled after.
Every detail gave him a more profound grasp into the psyche of their enemy—proud, powerful, and intelligent—it made sense since the supposed weakest of the Quen’Talrat Kings and Queens had taken over the underground labyrinth facility.
Mila and Row had taken their time in fashioning the place with their likeness, including what appeared to be testaments to their works, spaced along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Yet, ironically, Edmon saw little difference between their mannerisms from Ke’Thra’Ma—both parties gloried their domain with a showcase of their conquests.
Noa’s humanoid figure stiffened from Amra’Cora’s shoulder. “Hold up! How—they’ve manipulated the layout—closing off the area … Gmmgm…” She winced, palm pressing against her forehead as she fell silent, illuminated crescent-moon irises darting around the glimmering hallway of artistry.
Edmon shifted his tower shield to the front while slowing; Serris and the Quen’Talrat vanguard behind him as Lexi’s bat flapped its wings to come to a halt. Their force took up a defensive position, scanning for danger.
Mind racing, Edmon took swift account of the evolving situation, the surprise was sprung, and now they were on the clock; Violet and Azalea were nearly caught up, keeping a wad of silk with them to keep connected to their escape route.
In the wake of their swift stop, Violet’s extending thread managed to pass him, using pressurized air to propel the finely woven web deeper into the corridors. The weave master was already gathering information while her sister maintained their previous network; he could sense the stress it was putting on the fatigued blue-haired Spider Sister, yet she didn’t falter.
“What is it?” Edmon asked when she didn’t persist.
Serris snapped two of her bladed arms together in what he assumed was agitation yet didn’t say anything while her mantis-like head peered into the darkness. Lexi appeared to understand the action, her gel tinting a light purple shade.
“Openings in the walls and floors are allowing units to move into position,” Violet reported. “If we do not move soon, we may be trapped.”
“The walls then?” Amra’Cora returned.
Edmon agreed, but a more pressing concern than a fight was in progress as he watched the dark-skinned A.I. rumble a strained growl. “We can’t make a decision unless you tell us what’s happening, Noa.”
“Mila … She’s so loud—screaming at me … I’ve never felt this kind of remote attack, but … No,” her eyes snapped open, looking up at the ceiling, “an Inferno Prison—she’s created a trap.”
He figured as much; their reaction time was that of a computer, and they’d instantly adapted to a new course of action the second they bypassed their initial defenses. A sealed box while keeping us in place to handle a few expendable soldiers. It could be similar to their previous detonation that Sari’aél mentioned, but knowing that failed, the next will likely be stronger.
Making a hasty decision, Edmon’s grip tightened around Milthren, opening himself up for her to feed off his energy; the Seraph had gotten them this far before the runic defenses were able to stop her, and he bet the two A.I. were in the process of strengthening the shields in response.
However, as far as he could tell from the angel’s recount, the runic designs weren’t instant and required a build-up time. If they needed to make another hole, this was their last opportunity.
Unfortunately, his fears came true as Violet landed next to him, calf-length shadow locks swinging to the left while looking back the way they’d come. “An unknown force has broken past your ice, breaking my silk down on a molecular level—three areas, four, seven—it won’t last another thirty seconds.”
Azalea’s stressed voice followed. “I’m trying to move silk in its path, but it’s not fast enough—we won’t make it back in time before they make a move to seal our—”
Drawing back the icy ax as black steam hissed off her length, Edmon grimaced as Milthren communicated the cost of desire—she liberally drew in of his inner strength that would translate to every aspect of his physical, mental, and spiritual fortitude—still, it was worth the price.
The whitish hue of Milthren stained to a lightless onyx as it tapped into his Creeping Black skill. Yet, this time, given the rapid expansion and use of the rarely utilized ability—in addition to him sinking every point he could into it—the unceasing pestilent frost still assaulting the runic grid and stone increasing its proficiencies by the second, combined to advance the skill to Defiling Black Diamond I.
The coiling, invisible tail of the draconic weapon released her grip around Edmon’s arm to take on the shadowy visage of the creature as he twisted his hips and drew his arm across his chest; the radiating debased force caused everyone to shrink back, and Serris tripped, stumbling to the side before catching herself.
“N-No!” Noa stammered, floating off of Amra’Cora’s shoulder. “If … That kind of energy will—” Row and Mila appeared between Edmon as he readied himself to throw the weapon, despite the A.I.’s pleas—Milthren’s comforting hands around his own.
“Fool!” Row shouted, moving threateningly to try and intimidate him. “You’ll ruin countless systems!”
Mila seemed more focused on the wall, frantically trying to strengthen the barrier. “Such a noxious force would do more harm than you know!”
A smirk lifted Edmon’s lips from within his black helmet as he sent it; their priority was to stop the colossal weapon, and the A.I.’s noose was already closing around their neck. “Perfect.”
White, potent flames erupted around them, yet in that instant, his grip left Milthren.
A sharp gale detonated from the divine ax, weaving around every one of his allies with the weapon’s guiding prompts, and an ebony haze smothered the intense heat, turning the lustrous walls into an inky shade.
Milthren touched the wall, and a field of static vapor expanded as the weapon phased right through the defenses—aimed right in the general direction of the Matrix Core—yet not a mark was made against the stone.
In the ensuing short silence, the group shivered in apprehension. Violet and Serris straightened to stare at the location; they couldn’t even see the roaring white flames beyond the cloud of smoke lingering in the corridor.
The two giant gorillas vanished the second the fog corrupted the structure of the runes etched in the walls; only the electrified brume was left, sparking around them, yet he’d seen the silent disbelief on the pair’s faces.
Noa was the first to speak, hands held over her mouth. “If you struck—it could spread to every facet of the Nexus—the damage…”.
“What is our next action?” Violet calmly asked; beneath the girl’s calm facade, he could sense the Thélméthra’s unease as the lingering force warped space around them, blacking out her faculties.
Serris hissed. “How can you have power like the other—how many creatures does the Empress have of such caliber?”
Ignoring her question, Edmon walked to the wall, standing before it. “Wait and watch—it may be slow, but a path will be opened—don’t be concerned about touching the black.”
A dark blue fog passed through his face guard upon shifting his head to view the Quen’Talrat carrying their technicians. “Amira’Cora, Melia’Ia, prepare to rush inside with everyone else—Jumi’Calro and Noa will need to assess the damage—this is not over.”
The Quen’Talrat Elite Hunters were swiftly by his side, waiting for the opportunity to make a dash for their finish line.
On the other hand, Serris was far more hesitant, flinching at every spark that arced around her. Lexi had difficulty keeping the bat in check and eventually jumped down as it ran away to be tinder for the inferno his mist held at bay.
“Stupid thing…” Lexi grumbled, hugging herself while looking around. “Umm—High Lord Edmon—we just need to guard them when we go through. Right?”
“Indeed,” Violet answered, calmly moving beside him; still, her black ringed, illuminated white irises trained on him. “I do hope you can keep up,” she added, obviously directed at the mantis.
Serris’s antenna twitched with her four-blade arms and recovered a bit of her composure. “I was taken by surprise—to think such opposites would exist within your Empress’s army … This is similar to Orinvia’s powers,” she shivered.
The creature that will fight Sari’aél? Interesting. It’s almost time…
As expected, everyone froze in place as a biting pulse detonated through them, and the electrified haze pulled into the warping wall, generating a hissing rush of air; a turquoise shell encased everyone to resist the gravitational draw, and instantaneously, the wall was gone, replaced by a perfectly circular tunnel, stretching over a hundred meters ahead of them.
A short rumble rattled through their bones in a rapid expel of air that threw back Violet and Azalea’s hair, forcing them to take a step back with everyone, except for Edmon, already on the move.
Tower shield held in front of him, he examined the long charcoal tunnel; the corruption was digging its way into the stone, and every hallway he passed showed the silver guardian apes rushing to redirect themselves—several were half converted into the black ice, slowly folding in to compress the pockets into microscopic beads of superdense material.
The others were soon behind him; he wasn’t the fastest, given his primary stats were in defense, but he saw his group regaining their bearings as a fight appeared imminent.
Reaching the middle of the path, he reached down to grab a thin, obsidian rod, stumbling a bit as he struggled to pull it out of the ground—the compressed stone that had imploded from his attack—it glistened like a black diamond while encased in the inherently pernicious material.
Violet sent alarms ringing in his head. “Two large enemies ahead—solid and swift—one is going for Sari’aél’s weapon!”
“No … Stop him!” Edmon shouted, jaw tightening; he hadn’t expected them to have anything to take Milthren, and as the Seraph warned, anyone could be granted her power under the right circumstances. They cannot have her!
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“We won’t make it in time,” Azalea grunted, lagging behind by the second as she worked her overstressed energy reserves. “Sister…”
Serris launched ahead of the group, hair and outer shell flashing blue with steam rushing off her body; her speed doubled. He wasn’t sure if she knew what to prevent, but no one else seemed swift enough to reach the area. “Leave it to me…”
* * *
Web wove in a split second ahead of Violet as she used her swift-acting thread to draw it back; she dove through the open center, closing it behind her and creating silken balls around her feet—releasing the restraints, she rocketed past Serris, landing beside the ax as the web around her legs spread out on impact to cushion the blow.
In the instant before her silk returned the momentum to send her against her opponent, she had her first clear look at the creature; it wasn’t a silver ape as she thought from her initial read of the room’s occupants.
Ten-meters tall, dark leafy fur spread across his body, Row leered down at her, a dark sneer on his lips that reminded her of the moment she died—Ke’Thra’Ma’s imposing figure—this creature loomed over her in the shadow of this A.I. imposter, and her hearts faltered; in that silent, horrifying juncture, she felt the same flash of death ice her veins.
I can’t win…
The web at her feet collapsed, pressurized hot air streaming out of the sides as the force was released, and she followed the trailing emerald flames the giant’s large fingers made while swinging to smash her against the wall.
In almost every way, she was held captive by her own memories—there was almost no difference—the imposing white fiend that crushed her entire family stood above her; she was the one trapped in a web.
I’m dead…
A steaming mass collided with Violet’s body, carrying her to the side to tumble across the ground as Serris tackled her out of the way—she winced as the mantis’ spiky frame punctured and ripped her skin—yet the flaming hand struck the webbed wall where she’d stood, devastating the runic protection and stone beneath the weight of the blow.
“Fools! You tempt Gods!” he roared.
Violet was overcome by the fear of her past—it was real; he was real—by all measurements she now sensed, a green-furred clone of Ke’Thra’Ma faced her, and she was terrified. Row had developed a biological body identical to the Quen’Talrat’s most legendary figures with four arms and legs, two tails and heads; he was invincible.
The previous swipe was nothing but a casual flick compared to the speed Violet knew could come from the colossal figure; she was a Thélméthra—a predator among predators—yet for the second time since her birth, she was paralyzed.
Impossible—it’s impossible—I’m nowhere near as strong as I was, and even…
“Get a hold of yourself!” Serris hissed, the side of her bladed arm slapping against her cheek; although, there was a quiver in her own voice. “It is a mental assault; steel yourself!”
Using the creature’s voice as a focal point to pull her out of the spiral, she felt the paralyzing fear quell; yet still, Violet knew it was hopeless without the shadow of a doubt.
Worse, Mila had her own mimic of the Quen’Talrat’s god; a blue-furred shade that glimmered in the bright gem light. One was already beyond Sari’aél; without a doubt, the woman would need to ascend to one of her higher stages to compete—two, hopeless.
Opportunely, the sapphire ape was ignoring them because of Edmon’s blight, studying a radiant white crystal that had black vines creeping across it from the weapon’s passing. She appeared to be attempting to isolate the substance and reject it; large chunks were breaking away as four of her arms, two legs, and hundreds of other runic symbols traced around the massive artifact.
“Row! Quit messing around; rid me of the pests—the damage is severe!”
The others were still lagging behind, and Serris’s body was steaming and trembling after her rapid acceleration; naturally, there would be consequences for using such a technique, and it showed how she was able to keep up with her mother for a short time.
However, they’d failed—it might as well have been her fault for locking up—Row’s hand closed around Sari’aél’s weapon as it grew to accommodate the Quen’Talrat's size.
“At last, a tool worthy of my power!” Row roared. “I—”
Mila snarled, left head tilting to glare at her partner. “Row, what … Row?”
Violet struggled to her feet, applying bandages to her wounds to prevent any spilling Death Energy—every ounce counted—but she watched in bewilderment as the God-like creature flaming fur fizzled out, astonished wide eyes drifting down to the weapon clasped in his now shaking hand.
“I … failed?”
“Row!” Mila took two steps toward her comrade as he started to fade—Violet didn’t know any other way to explain it—he was there, and then from his clasped hand to his tail, a god of Quen’Talrat was erased.
The sapphire-furred figure twisted to a spot in the shimmering, rune-laced wall, voice quaking. “What did you—he’s gone … Everything … What is that weapon?” she barked, turning to glare at Edmon as he came into the doorway.
Awed at what she’d just seen, Violet was too overwhelmed to process everything her complex nerve system returned; it was impossible. Edmon … Why would you wish for them to not touch it if Sari’aél’s weapon can obliterate such foes … I don’t understand…
“Violet!” Edmon shouted, throwing the obsidian rod he’d picked up from inside the long hallway. “Do not touch the weapon—focus on distracting Mila so I can recover it.”
Preemptively dumping everything she had into her mental resistance, Violet ran forward with an agitated Serris as Mila opened her mouth. Suddenly, a horrifying scream locked Violet and Serris’s muscles, sending them to the ground—it was pointless; she fell to the hard floor, unable to focus on anything but the blue fire erupting from the god’s fur.
Yet, one thing drew her out of the mental spiral—the unthinkable—Edmon’s black diamond rod cut through the immoderate heat, bypassing her neigh-impervious, god-like fur to bite into the creature’s chest.
The insurmountable artificially created Quen’Talrat’s jaw slacked in doubt; she’d proudly stood in its path, and only a fool would think something such as that could even survive the intense fire the potent runes barely held at bay, yet he’d done the impossible.
Mila screamed, gurgling to a stop as she fell to one knee, and Violet blinked as the sapphire flames pulsed outward; the radial heat was enough to strip her silken clothes and melt her skin to the muscle.
Serris’s shrill sounds died from her diminished senses as the world went black. All of her silk and faculties were gone, she was dropped into a world of silence, and even the pain was gone. Am I dead … No, but … I can’t move … Edmon?
* * *
Edmon held out his hands for the others to fall back as the rod entered the Quen’Talrat’s chest; fortunately, Row was arrogant enough to try and take from Milthren, but in the off-chance he’d been able to pass, he would have been unstoppable.
Mila’s lips parted, expelling some kind of orangish liquid to mix with the flames, turning them yellow as two of her legs gave out, and black vines flowing up her chest. “Impossible—it’s not—gah, this power … A-An—infection, as well?” she gasped, quivering bottom left hand gripping the rod; her blue flames were going wild, bathing the room in the dark hue.
Catching sight of Serris and Violet, he saw them lock up from Mila’s waves of brutal force and darted in their direction to raise his shield to defend them. “Amra’Cora! Retreat and defend against the oncoming forces!”
“Serris!” Lexi cried, hesitantly inching back at his order.
Amra’Cora gasped upon seeing the four-armed legendary physique she’d idolized. “By the Ke … Ugh…” She seemed accustomed to the type of fear Mila produced, swiftly retreating to take up a defensive position against the silver apes marching their way; Lexi stayed by her side, creating globs of liquid to hamper their movements.
Edmon didn’t reach Violet in time to stop most of the injury, but Serris was close enough to dampen the majority of the damage; his shell closed around the young Thélméthra, yet most of her skin and outer organs were already melted by the time the icy wall absorbed the brunt of the inferno.
“Erragh!” Mila roared, her shaking left hand tightening around the shaft embedded in her chest—leaving it, it would continue to spread, and taken out would cause the blocked arteries to rupture; she forcefully removed it. “You think this is enough to stop me?! This is pathetic! Cowards and your—bleh—your hidden, otherworldly tools!”
Her muscles flexed, shattering the rod before her flames carbonized the corruption-infused weapon. The beast's nostrils flared upon shakily opening her hand to see the black rot feeding up her veins. “An impossible substance … I am not defeated!”
Turning, she screamed at him and placed an unharmed infected hand on the colossal centerpiece—Edmon noticed a shimmering gem in her palm—the body collapsed to the side, eyes dead.
Edmon’s teeth ground together; she wasn’t feeding the flames anymore, but they weren’t going out, and he was running out of energy trying to defend against them. Edmon picked up the burned women and put them over his shoulder; luckily, Violet had stayed in her human form.
He couldn’t be careful of either of their wounds while jogging to Milthren—fallen where Row had been destroyed—it was difficult to temper the flames, but the frost he produced barely managed to beat it back. Still, the heat seemed to be barely contained by the powerful defensive wards in the room.
Gripping Milthren’s handle, he felt her soothing embrace again, and giving her a large chunk of his remaining energy, he made a single swipe with her to generate a frigid whirlwind that froze Mila’s controlled biological clone—or so he assumed it was—yet it would be broken down and destroyed by the corruption soon enough.
His strength was being sapped continually, forcing him to a knee, but he had a job to do. It’s safe … Bring Noa and Jumi’calro—they have a limited time to put Noa inside. Milthren drained so much of my stamina, but I suppose that’s the kind of foe we faced…
Edmon struggled to his feet, shield and ax gripped in each hand, taking much of his strength as he walked to the hole they’d made—it seemed Mila had sealed off the area, making their forced entry the only access point—of course, he doubted that was the end of the A.I.
Noa and a nervous Jumi’calro soon entered; the dark-skinned A.I. floated above her small silver ape vessel, scanning the room in frustration. “There’s so much damage! It’s malignant, too,” she groaned, floating around the crystal to examine the slowly growing rot, but Edmon noticed chunks still falling off as if rejected.
“Mila’s alive in there, isn’t she?” Edmon growled, glancing left to see Lexi and the Quen’Talrat holding off a very sluggish initial assault; it appeared that the harm was causing a significant strain on Mila’s throughput to the soldiers. “Don’t focus on the corruption—your only goal is to remove her and put Noa in control—I can handle everything else.”
He left the pair to their work, rolling around his neck and adjusting his grip around Milthren’s handle; Defiling Black Diamond could be deactivated whenever he wanted, but it constantly put a drain against his strength, and without Milthren, he would have already collapsed—he was nearing his limit.
Sari’aél had known he’d need her weapon to win against the hidden forces within this labyrinth; she truly was the Empress’s High Warlord—without the divine axe’s protecting hand, the others would have long since succumbed to the pernicious rot
Ultimately, this was the only option once he’d seen they were far more prepared than they anticipated; the weapon comforted him in that snap decision, but didn’t give him an answer so much as telling him it wasn’t a wrong choice. Now, they were locked into that decision.
I can’t stop the spread, or Mila will redivert her attention to us—she’s too focused on preserving all the work she’s done, and without Row to back her up, she’s likely limited in her scope—I have to hold on … At least we’ve bought time … Is it enough, though?
Still, he had one last trump card to play, and he hoped it would work.
Releasing his tower shield, Edmon pulled around the cute pink purse-like bag Tiffany had given him to carry her ingredients in while standing in the passageway; because of the delicacy of the item once used, he’d waited for things to calm down—there wouldn’t be a better opportunity.
He pulled the string clasping it together to reach in and extract a small straw effigy, wearing a dress and fine black hair—Tiffany’s hair—and tossed it on the ground before uncorking a glass bottle to pour orange flames on the object. The fire fused with it, burning slowly as he tossed the bag in front of the spelled doll.
“There, it’s done.”
The little straw figurine did a short quiver before mechanically rising to its little straw feet and turning to put its hands on its hips to glare up at him. Tiffany’s voice came out in a high-pitched squeak uncharacteristic of the woman that put a small smirk on Edmon’s lips.
“You could have been more gentle! Oh, no—did you ruin any of my supplies? I’ll be—oof…” She stumbled forward and fell on her face.
Edmon suppressed laughter. “You okay?”
“Don’t laugh at me,” she grumbled, getting up to try and straighten her dress with her little straw fingers. “It’s hard to move like this…”
“I didn’t laugh.”
“I heard you in your mind! I’m in the Nexus! Humph … Oh, looks like you aren’t a complete bumbling oaf,” she mumbled, head buried in the bag now.
Edmon couldn’t help a snicker this time. “Says the straw woman that tripped on her face?”
“Shut up—is that how you talk to the woman that’s going to get you out of this mess … Oof, is it really this bad? Poor girl—at least she’ll heal,” Tiffany whispered, head poking out to see Violet and Serris’s burnt bodies behind him.
“It is—could you hurry?” he asked, glaring up at the struggling Quen’Talrat, gel creature, and concerned, drained Azalea as they tried to hold off the limited, metallic runic gorillas; Violet would heal, but Serris didn’t appear to be in the best of shape, even if he’d protected her from the brunt of Mila’s heat.
“Right, right … Sorry,” she mumbled, making a few hovering balls of orange fire to levitate the items out of the bag to prepare. “I really hope this works…”
You and me both, Tiff … You and me both…