Chapter 455: Staving Off Death
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Aniwye 'Demon Of Hearts' Mhwee
My body cracks and shifts, the Adjust losing purpose as the very nature of my body changes to the core. Who I am, what I am, alters within just a few seconds. Falling to a knee, I listen to the Devil's warnings as I also feel knowledge and expertise enter my mind. A new method of altering my soul, of allowing my Ether to resonate with the Sigil within instead of simply gaining aspects of it, settles into the core of my spirit. It doesn't even feel given or sutured inside me. It is... merely born in place of another piece.
"Be careful with your gifts, demon. They will take time to truly become yours. Now. Those two are on the back foot. Go and help."
I nod to the God, not thankful but appreciative of our deal. Staring at my hand, I admire the complexity of Ether that hides within. Soulful Strand is so fascinating. To imbue Ether with intelligence and self-capability... how terrifying. Living Strand simply gives it life, a way to change and adapt, but Soulful is far more dangerous, both for the user and the target.
How things like the Court come to be are starting to make more sense. Furthermore, with this enlightenment, I can see the edges of the next step, Conceptual, also known to the Devil as Mastered Ether., the point in which the only thing to learn is the grand weaves, not any more techniques. What shall I learn to emulate with my Ether? What concept will I embody?
What will I gain mastery over? Or, what master will I serve? Such a difficult question.
Regardless, I step toward that golden barrier. As I do so, the Devil calls out to the others, besides Lennon, of course.
"When she leaves, I need you all to start preparing. The Court will soon not welcome spectators. North of here is a small valley. Go there. It is where we will regroup after this."
I don't stay long enough to hear what follows. Instead, I am greeted by a slightly damaged arena. It would appear the three are now back inside Ireful's Dominion. Nonetheless, I am unperturbed by their missing figures.
Reaching out with my hand, the limb a dozen times more fragile than I'm used to, I let my Ether flow through my arm. It tingles, tiny nettles of pain washing through me. I suppose that is only normal. I no longer have the Ether saturation of a demon. But that's no matter. Soulful will make up for it.
After all, the only Dominions with access to it are the Lords, Killian, and Vincent. None of the past Creators, Warmasters, or Primes have reached such of level other than the late Ytrial of the Nahullo and the third Prime of humanity, two equal rivals put in place by the balance of the Lords.
Tightening my fist, I have my soul spread into my Ether evenly, but unlike the lesser forms of Ether, I know a better way than simply breaking off some of my soul. Smiling with my sharpened teeth, I have the Ether vibrate at a high frequency with my soul still seeped within it. Then, I emit the Ether out of my body at such a speed the tether doesn't break, keeping the connection to my soul.
It works like a Dominion, only nowhere near as instinctually.
And once my Ether in the air, I weave it into a pattern I am quite familiar with. Mindshatter. The main difference is that Soulful Strand takes the Ether into its own hands, altering the nature of it. The pinkish Ether tainted by my Sigil spreads out into the air like a blanket, growing with each and every second as it gains intelligence.
I can feel it breathe. I can feel it think. I can feel it... be alive. And as its power grows alongside its individuality, I pull onto the construct, forcing it to bend unto my will. So it does.
A force of mental energy, psychic energy, built from Ether as a base, rips through space, physically damaging reality. The purpose of this is to open a hole in the minor plane, and as I look for a door or gate of some kind, I grin even further as a human-sized one forms just for me.
Stepping through without waiting for a moment, I find the three still waging their war. But... things are not the same as they were before. Ireful is not alone.
There is a...
My thoughts hitch for a moment in my mind as I witness a figure in a midnight cloak, their presence ominous and foreboding, rush down the human genius. Their deadly scythe gleams in the dim cosmic light, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurks within the shadows.
Sensing with my mind, I don't feel even a hint of individuality, of a soul, from the cloaked figure. Alexos wars against Ireful on his own with his imagination, but Eli hardly keeps his own life in his porcelain frame.
With each passing moment, the figure draws closer to the man, their movements swift and silent. No matter what Eli does, creating a clone or darting away with speed, nothing works. There is a sense of inevitability in the air, a feeling that no matter how fast he runs, he will never be able to escape his fate.
I can see the fear etched on the man's face, his eyes wide with terror as he glances over his shoulder at his pursuer. But despite his desperation, he knows that there is no escaping the inevitable. The figure in the cloak is relentless, their determination unwavering as they close in on their prey.
What is this thing? My mind rotates at a grand pace, slowing down time with a cautious flicker of Ether. I watch as the distance between them narrows almost unnaturally and feel a surge of panic rising within me. I want to scream out a warning, to tell the man to run faster, to escape while he still can. But the words die in my throat, choked off by the overwhelming sense of dread that fills the air.
I don't say anything, choosing to find a solution. What is that thing? Why is it after Weiss? Cloak. Dull gray eyes. Scythe. Inevitable. Wraith-like.
The ideas swarm together into a grim possibility as I realize what this thing is. A Reaper. Or the Grim Reaper. I'm not sure. I thought the terms were simply uncommon terms for Lady Death, but maybe they are something more intrinsic. Divinhoods. The final shape of power in this world of ours, what exactly are they? Is this the manifestation of one?
I let my mind slow down as I feel the tug of Ether saturation, choosing to instead trust in Weiss' craftiness to survive a bit longer. I need to analyze this more.
And then, in the blink of an eye, as I release my Ether, it is over. The figure in the cloak reaches out with a skeletal hand, the deadly scythe swinging down with incurable precision. There is a sickening crunch as it makes contact, and then... nothing. Eli Weiss falls to the ground, lifeless and still, the cloaked figure disappearing into the darkness as quickly as it had appeared.
Only, a moment later, the body that fell is pushed to the side, splattering into fragments of Ether as Weiss stands up again, patting his porcelain. Clever bastard to trick a Reaper, but it won't work twice.
I move to him, Splitting my Ether into a band of types that hurtles me toward him. Grimacing at the pain from not having a tough frame, I land just a few feet short.
"Weiss. What is that thing? Is it a Reaper?"
The Underground Tree sighs, his unnatural form crackling under the strain of his movement. He points to Ireful, surrounded by falling cliff edifices, before answering me.
"Doesn't matter. We'll have a few minutes before it returns. Death doesn't like those who come back to life. We need to get her, first and foremost."
I nod, understanding enough to move on with the conversation. His revival cost him dearly. Death must not fancy such unnatural things. I wonder... is it her Dominion that conjures these things? Or is it something more insidious? Who knows.
Shaking my head, we both amble to help Alexos. The man once known as an awful Outlaw on par with demons, puts his life on the line to kill a grand adversary for all life on our planet. It's almost poetic in a way. Wait... Why am I thinking like that? Did he... No. That's impossible. Or is it?
It isn't. The Devil's contracts and deals are absolute. Equivalent exchange. Grinding my teeth at the forceful change that I was working so hard to crystalize on my own, and doing quite a good job if I'm being honest, I raise a hand to the sky to meet a falling star.
Knowing that without Soulful Strand, I'm useless here due to missing out on my demonic nature, I rely on the manipulation for the majority of my strength. Again, I recreate the ornate alteration of Ether and soul from before to conjure another one of my skills, augmented by new intelligence.
The falling star meets my mind in but a moment, but I am prepared. Lance meets the heat as the psychic Ether proliferates, growing in size before detonating to cancel out the effect of the blast. Then, I turn toward Ireful. What a beautiful demon. See? I wasn't wholly changed. I can still recognize some things. Absolute, huh?
Focusing with the rest of my mind as part of it rambles uncharacteristically, I let Weiss and Alexos take the Motherbound's attention for now. Both hands open wide to aid the visualization of my Ether.
Then, listening to the crashing Ether and realm-shaking clashes, I fall into the complexity of Ether and my mind. Gradually, the two mix, allowing yet another skill with Souful to be born. Sadly, it's not a new one, so it cannot leverage the full effect, but it is my most powerful nonetheless.
I have gained many monikers, many titles, and many names over my long life. Demon Of Hearts is only the most recent. Dreamkiller, Sleepwalker, and Heartless were some of the first ones, the ones of a young demon. As I grew in age, things like Mind Shatterer, Soul Splitter, and Dream Crusher were born.
I've always liked the former the most. There is something... thrilling about ruining a mind with my own. To press the weight of me against another and come out on top. It is... incredible. There is no need for my Power now as it will not change much. Instead, I rely on this gift that is not quite mine yet.
It is a risk, I know. But without risks, there will never be any meaningful growth. Killian taught me that. If I had known the truth when I was young, I'd have long taken Leviathan's place. Probably. Maybe.
Mind Shatter comes into being just a few feet from me. It is an invisible thread, one that just needs to be attached to another's body. Taking the thread into my hand, I notice it spread like a net. Ah, the incredible gap of power between Demigods and Virtues. It is nestled right here.
Killian is not all that skilled in external Ether manipulation, making his Soulful hard to notice. Most of it is specialized in keeping him from dying. One would be amazed to see even a tenth of the function working inside his body at once to stave off death. From artificial hormones to specialized and intelligent systems of Ether within him, the man is more than difficult to kill.
He is Undying. And as such, I cannot let him down. Nor can I let his son down either.
The threads spread like a quilt or a net into the air, rapidly overtaking most of the battlefield. Smiling, I watch Ireful do her best to dodge the threads weaving throughout the air, but Weiss is a damned genius for a reason. Like a chess grandmaster, he orients himself and Alexos to gradually force Ireful into a disadvantageous position. Furthermore, with the time allotted, the net spreads more dangerously, the Ether bundling over time. It's not quite at the point of a Sirza's self-eruption, but I'm getting there.
These Motherbound rely too heavily on their Dominions and Powers. Their cohesiveness provides them great teamwork and power, but their lack of individuality forces them to fall behind on the path of Ether. After all, it is one of self-discovery and sacrifice.
Eventually, the Motherbound taps a thread with the back of her wing, and I latch onto her mind, striking it with all my coiled strength. It is a tough match as I wrestle her everything. There must be a hundred more minds sharing that body in the prevention of this, but my job is done.
I've held her still for two full seconds. And in that time, both Alexos and Eli have made their move.
Eli raises a hand to Ireful's face, obliterating the skull and all. Still, she's not dead. None have the power to sever life such as Lennon Hull. The rest of us must do it the old-fashioned way. While the head regenerates from the Darklight, a figure forms beside Ireful. It is a clone.
A clone of a tall, stalwart man. The rippling muscles and aged scars tell long tales that echo even into my vast mind. Marshall Travis. I was not aware Alexos' imagination went this far. That is... dangerous.
An arm is wrought back in a split second, and then, it shoots forward, emulating the greatest punch ever made in history. Only, it is dulled by Alexos' ineptitude. Nevertheless, a dulled hurricane is still a storm.
The fist enters Ireful's chest and obliterates her chest entirely as 'Marshall' strikes again, and again, and again, turning Ireful to ash with simple strikes. One second later, however, the imagined figure vanishes, and Alexos falls to the ground, coughing in agony.
"Fuck... fuck... too soon..."
I can't help but smile as the realm around us crumbles, delivering us back to the arena from before. Three of us to kill a Demigod? That's not too bad. I wonder... how many are there on the other side of the Court? A few more? Why did the three siblings come first? Were they that confident? Or is there a more critical reason? Were they... perhaps afraid of something? I can't imagine the Offspring having all that high of a position when their elders come. Maybe I'm simply overthinking it, but I don't think so. These Offspring are the most independent Motherbound, so there is a chance I'm right.
Waving to the Devil to pull us out, I note the rumbling earth. The Court continues to grow. I'll have to be careful when I create my Sirza. The Devil must have chosen to serve a master; otherwise, there is no way he'd lose control.
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Abraham 'Psionic Nails' Ulren
Coughing out blood, I kneel on the ground, struggling to regain my bearings from the fight. But there is no time to rest. More are coming. I push force into my leg to stand, yet it gives out on me. Hellish dirt enters my mouth with an awful, sulfur-like taste.
"Relax, human. We have a few minutes of respite. Her Majesty Gargaron is not so easily killed. But... if we wish to live, we have to escape Hell. That is the only option, my friend."
I stare at Odyss' face, the lime horns and yellow chitin around his face throwing me off as always. I've hardly known him for a week, but we've become quick allies in... running for our fucking lives. Odysseus, the Demon Of Fungus, is not a coward, but he much prefers life to survive a Lord until they fall.
I am one to agree, as such, we fell into a group together. Though, we aren't alone. Half a dozen others are with us, but we trust each other far more than we do them. Eh, trust is a strong word. We respect the other's strength. He was there for my arena fights, some of them at least.
So, I believe in him, rolling onto my back as I inhale a long, delicious gasp of air. While I enjoy my break, Odyss asks me one of his usual invasive questions.
"You said you had many human friends on the surface, correct? Do you honestly believe any are coming for you down here? The only one you have is me, my friend. But fret not. We are only a thousand miles from the Court. Once we're there... we'll have a chance."
Another demon scoffs nearby, Horon, who seems to dislike such a notion. Nevertheless, I remain quiet, as I often do with his questions.
"Uh huh, Odyss. Shut up. We're more likely to be devoured by those bastards than make it through the Court. And! Even if we push it into the Court, the Devil will tear us a fucking new one! Or the Undying will! Or whichever Supreme the Devil's decided to kidnap to guard it in his absence."
Way to make me feel hopeful. What a great group to travel with. Fuck I miss Bonfire, Wyatt, Frozen, all of them, really. I miss them all. I wish I never took that stupid deal. But I did. And here I am now.
And... the negativity only gets worse as Traeean joins the talk. The demon is sitting against a volcanized tree, half his guts on the outside, eating a liver to help replenish his strength. Occultists are strange no matter the realm.
"Yup. Plus, the Godly Council is right in front of the Court. If we don't get their approval, we can't even attempt it. Unless we find a sponsor from one of the corrupt bastards, we're dead. So dead."
I can't help but laugh at all the oppressive depression flowing out of these demons. It's ironic how low their spirits are due to what happens on the surface. Normally, demons are the ones to shatter hopes.
"What ya laughing at?"
Inerea growls into my joyless chuckle. Yep. No one can have any fun around her. Not wanting to start a fight after just ending one with a whole bunch of 'Tainted' as the demons call them, I just answer her.
"You are all so negative. Why are we even doing this if you all think we'll fail?"
A low silence hangs between the eight of us, all at the very least Powers. Inerea and Odyss are Virtues, some of the strongest ones down here, for that matter, but the rest of us are weaker than that. Sure, those two didn't join in the negativity, but they didn't really stop it either.
Odyss, however, is the demon to answer me.
"Hahaha! That's who we are! We'll complain about every little thing! But don't you worry! We aren't the kind to roll over and die! I'd rather turn into a human than die! Hahaha! We'll get out of here. Just wait, my friend. We'll get out of here. All of us."
I don't know where his confidence comes from, but I don't have the heart to ruin it. I know they won't make it out. I know they won't. They cannot... because... he spoke to me again.
"If you do not escape within the next twenty-four hours, you will die. She has awoken. Soon, Purgatory will be broken, and other Gods will flow. Hell will no longer belong to the demons, even in name. Run, boy. Run if you ever want to see the skies above again."
Shaking away the thoughts, I continue onward with the others as the journey cannot stop. We are chased by the most awful creatures in existence, and beyond us, the things that are waiting for us are even worse. There are... Gods helming the Weirs. Gritting my teeth, I forge ahead, refusing to fall behind as I control my body with Force to move faster and faster to keep up.
Time quickly passes as we gain distance from those behind us, that is, until a moon-sized eye appears on the edge of the horizon. Instinct keeps me from staring at it, and it is the correct answer as Ogel, our scout with eleven eyes, falls limply, motionless, and dead beside me—the shock strings through us all. Odyss whimpers, and Inerea grows in fear. Their reactions stifle my thoughts and freeze my motion. A God. Instantly, I know it is one. Which one, though? I... We're so close... This can't be where it ends.
Inerea gives our group just a little bit of hope as she prepares for a battle, and by the waves in her mind, I know she is ready for it to be her last.
"This is where we must separate, friends. Everyone disperse if you want a chance at life. That is Miochin, the Summered Eye, the Ruiner Of Harvests. Do not gaze into the pupil; else your soul shall be sundered. Run, friends. Run for the Court. And... pray to the Devil to save your soul."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone