Chapitre 469: Full Chisel
My most trusted ally rushes away, bringing Lily, the demons, and the Undead with him, including Bonfire. Marion, Otto, and Birdie attempt to refuse the retreat, but Virgil doesn't take no for an answer, forcing them to follow. Neither Odyss nor Inerea have a problem running for their lives. It seems as though the current situation has disrupted any pride they may have.
So that just leaves four upon this mountain as an army approaches.
I take a long look at the three beside me as I steady my breathing further, preparing mentally and physically. Fortunately, I think my soul has already recovered for the most part. Lily... Lily is really useful for helping my soul heal.
Did... did my father plan all of this? No way, right? Looking at Aniwye's face, her shorter and more human-like stature showcasing some genuine fear of the coming army, I shake my head. No way. There are some things you simply cannot plan. He and she likely knew that souls are critical at the highest level of strength.
So, he built Lily to be able to collect and gobble them up.
Speaking of, Aniwye seems to be legitimately anxious. Her brow is furrowed, and her hands are slightly trembling as she forms the cleaver I've often seen her wielding out of glassy Ether. Long ago, she possessed an actual Claymore, but since the fight with Kai, she's only had a weapon of her own mind.
Seeing her fear, I flicker my eyes over to Abraham, and he's even worse. I can tell he's attempting to be brave, to be courageous, but his hands are slick with sweat, and his forehead is sheening with trepidation. Furthermore, his eyes are constantly moving all over while the ears under his prolonged white hair twitch with every rumble.
I speak for the two of them to help them feel better, as when I look at the army... I only feel what Blodwyn feels. What... Lennon must feel. I'm excited. Thrilled, even. It's... odd. Truly. It's madness, even. But... What my mother said long ago holds to be a golden rule.
A little bit of madness is needed for greatness. For Godliness? I suppose a great bit of madness is required.
"We'll be fine. If you two are overwhelmed or run low on Ether, get out. Abraham. Daymare yourself to Bonfire, and... Ma. If it gets to be too much, don't be afraid to run. I'll be alright. Blodwyn's with me."
As I console the two, I leverage my mind and my soul, forming figments of Madness over my arm. Adapting the usual Ballista, I create the terribly durable substance on my right arm to fit on top of it instead of having to hold it. With my recent advancements and my Dominion... It's not difficult at all.
The Ether, the Madness, flows like it should, and my soul seems to gain... physical form. Is that what it was all along? And... I just couldn't yet understand it? Incredible. All along, my soul gave me power, and I just didn't know it. Weak at first, but... by the fourth Sigil, at the least, it became something worth using.
Abraham and Aniwye both gape at the weapon formed over my forearm with the bolt already loaded. Twisting my arm over to inspect the spectral glow over the glossy structure, I tap it with my fingernail, understanding immediately just how dense this is.
"I will be careful, little one. Pale one. Stay close to me. And be careful what is behind your target when you fire that. It is... equal to a Dzil in penetrating might from what I can tell."
Nodding, I feel that her words must be right. After all, while this cost less Ether than I expected it to, it tired out my soul immensely. How interesting. Much of my skills have been adapted to fit with my Dominion. Are all Dominions like this?
I would have to guess so. Lennon's an unusual case, but I could definitely see Eli shifting his skills to fit with whatever Powers he steals with his Dominion. In fact... I saw that in Onyx Gate.
Breathing in once more, feeling the weapon on my right, I speak inwardly, discussing the battle with Blodwyn.
"You ready for this?"
A deep hum reverberates throughout my chest as the Arca agrees.
"Of course. I am eager to use Bloodlet. I think... It'll change everything just as much as your Shape has. Any injury we take... will be lessened while any we deal will be magnified immensely."
Smiling, I agree with the typically silent artifact. My heart, our heart, beats with exhilaration as I peek at Lennon. If I thought I was excited for this fight, for this chance to grow stronger, to prove to myself how far I've come...
Lennon has been waiting for this his whole life. He is a soldier at heart, a man willing to die for a cause, yet the only edict he follows is that of his own.
The man is slightly crouched, his body bent at the waist and tilted downward toward the coming army. His eyes are wholly peeled, and the tremendous white orbs turn bloodshot through pure fixation. Lennon's feet are twisted to the side as if he is already ready to leap off the mountaintop.
Looking closer, I see the muscles under his tattered clothing are so tensed and ready for this war that they seem as if they are about to explode. The physical might of a Dominion with all martial Sigils like Soldier is not to be underestimated.
His physical strength, without Ether, must not be that far off Marshall's pinnacle.
The final aspect of the man who yearns for blood, who surprisingly didn't need my help to advance, is his arms. The literal things are gone, but he has created two formless ones to replace them with his soul. And... they are visible to any with some sort of ocular enhancement, not just my sight that peers into the soul.
They are nearing my level of Madness physicalization.
And nestled within those two arms, pointed backward behind the swordsman, is an identical copy of Dia, his old blade. It is scarred, beaten, and chipped all over. I remember seeing it in newspapers and posters.
He used to be called Diabolical Lennon Hull. Named both for his Claymore and his unreasonable nature. The original sword Lennon carried has long since shattered, unable to withstand the turmoil he puts himself under. The swordsman treats his own body worse than his enemies.
Not a day of rest. Not an hour without practice. Not a minute without discipline. Not a second without focus. That is this man. I can only admire the absolute devotion he has toward his path.
I need it, too. If I am to complete that old goal, the one that I tossed out of the back of my mind, to become a God, I'll need that fervor. That confidence... I'll acquire it here. Otherwise, I'll die.
Just as I finish analyzing Lennon, I notice a minuscule twitch in the muscle fibers of his calves, and then... the rock beneath him detonates from the force of his leap. The roughed-up swordsman soars through the sky of the Underworld, hurtling for the army of Motherbound.
Unfortunately, the army is still nearly a hundred miles away, a distance too great for a single leap of Lennon to reach. I begin to shake my head in confusion, but I swiftly stop as I watch Lennon's soul shift.
The man spins in the air, flinging Dia behind him, and then another blade emerges from the depths of his soul, swinging at his body. Lennon Hull brings his own Dominion against itself as a piercing shriek enters the atmosphere.
Flinching from the sudden noise, I witness the clash of a formless blade on a physicalized soul, and it sends Lennon even further away like that of a bullet.
I grit my teeth, knowing adeptly how much that had to hurt. He just... cut his own soul—or his Dominion, however, one wants to see it. The bastard candidly doesn't care for his own well-being. Sighing, I glance at the other two.
"We better join him, no?"
Aniwye nods curtly, her lone eye still locked onto the battle against Death along the horizon. She's still worried about Killian. If she doesn't direct her whole focus on this war... she might get hurt. Or worse...
The half-Nahullo hops from foot to foot, psyching himself up for the coming bloodshed. I listen to the muttering under Abraham's breath and can only grin with pride.
"You got this. We got this. Come on. Come on. Now!"
Abraham grasps outward with his hand as if reaching for something far beyond the corporeal. Watching him do so, I can only balloon with more and more satisfaction at seeing his growth. The pale man's forehead creases while his Ether focuses on a single point before him, yet... the central aspect of whatever he is doing comes from his mind. From... his waking mind. From his memories and his soul itself as he cuts out a portion.
He... This is Bestowing Strand. Incredible. He's still only a 7th Sigil, though he does have a Virtue. Better than I was at his Sigil, that's for damn sure.
With admiration, I observe the Ether swell, gradually forming what appears to be a human form. Squinting, they seem to be phasing in and out, as if not relatively stable yet in their phantasmal form. They are kneeling with one fist downward onto the ground, facing the direction of the battlefield, but I recognize that back.
There is no man who I would recognize less.
Plastered upon every bar in the Territories with a poster. Honored by street names and district labels from Onyx Gate to the ends of humanity. Given his own statue within the depths of Blackreach that still stands despite the Wastes. Known by heart to all living humans.
The man who Shattered The Sky.
Marshall Travis straightens his unscarred back, the legions of marred and recovered wounds revealing themselves over his arms and his chest as he slowly turns to face us. I can only return the smile the phantom of Abraham's memory gives me as I swell with joy.
No more Nightmares for Abraham to obsess and hate himself over. Only Idols to adore and aspire to be.
My mouth hangs open as I don't know what to say, but Marshall doesn't speak. He isn't real, after all. I turn to face Abraham, and the man's face is sheet-white, obviously from overusing his Ether. Chest-length gasps of air fill his lungs as he nods to confirm my burgeoning thoughts.
"I did it. Seeing Lennon move like that... And all my practice the way here... I recreated my Nightmares, only better. I think... I think I made a Dzil. A damn nice one, too. Don't you think? It's a little different, shorter, and can only repeat things I saw him do, but..."
Helping the man stand tall to face one of his heroes, I pat Abraham on the back. The only option I have is to agree.
"Yeah. It's incredible. Can you make more than one?"
A shake of the head is my answer. Makes sense.
"No. That... is my limit for now. If... if only I had this before... my previous Nightmares were too weak, unable to replicate the strength of the originals. My father also had that issue. His were closer, but still not perfect, plus he had to kill the target."
Once Abraham is back to normal, well as normal as he can be, with his Ether saturation so high, I nod to Aniwye, who has been watching us this whole time.
"Time to go. Watch him for me, will you?"
"Aye."
With my mother's confirmation, I close my eyes to focus. Lennon has already fallen into the throes of the army, slicing up waves of lower Sigiled, and even some higher Sigiled along with them. I need to catch up. Fast.
How? I have an idea.
My body and soul can separate, but my body is my soul, right? It's relatively bewildering to think about, but I think I got it.
Taking my soul, I gradually consolidate the spread out nature. It flows like a liquid, but I force the liquid-like soul into a ball. With that, I move Blodwyn's soul, his resistance absent since he knows it's me doing so.
Then... I push my soul outward with everything I have. It's not easy and definitely impossible to do in a fight since I have to stay completely still, practically meditating, but I feel a wheeze of relief enter my... soul as I find myself floating in the air.
Beside me, Blodwyn's soul hangs cradled within mine, our souls joined partially together. The Artifiction. That joining must have started when we became Angels, and it's only sublimated since.
The world around us is much more challenging to comprehend as I no longer have eyes. Blodwyn is even starting to panic a bit without any senses, but I quickly reconcile my new sight with the old.
Everything is discolored, made of only black and white shimmering figures. Aniwye and Abraham are looking around, all confused, attempting to find me but unable to. Interesting... Aniwye seems to hold a hint of my location, but she isn't certain that it's me.
Seeing their worry, I know it'll fade once they notice me amongst the army. Instead of shifting back, I face the distance and... move.
The reason I did this is because... Abraham. He shifts into a mental force or something of the like when he Daymares. As such... if I can turn into a soul... then I should be fast. Maybe not as snappy as his teleportation, but it can't be that far.
And I'm quickly proven right. Space practically weaves around me as Blodwyn and I crater through the Underworld, utterly silent. Wind, noise, and motion are absent from our movement.
In just a second, no, a tenth of one, I arrive at the battle, traversing the hundred miles as if they never existed. The motion is so swift, so alien to me, that I can hardly believe it. This... Soultrek isn't teleportation, but... it's so fucking speedy it might as well be. Near instantaneous travel as long as I can spend a minute to focus.
And to leave the Soultrek... I expand my soul, holding Blodwyn tightly within the depths of my soul as my body rapidly reforms. Flesh grows from the soul as bones, muscles, tendons, and even brain matter form in but an instant.
My eyes open to view the army that extends beyond the horizon as I fall from the height of the mountain. Shit. I only went horizontally. Whatever. It'll be fine.
Glancing to my left, I see that the arm-mounted Ballista is still there. Good. I scour the surface of the Underworld below me as Lennon is surrounded by hordes and hordes. He kills hundreds only for more to replace them with identically diverse abilities. I even spot a pair of midnight purple chains sneaking up on him.
Locking my gaze onto those two, I dive for one. I don't have much of a way to travel in the air like Lennon, but... I can make one. Or... Blodwyn can.
"You ever make wings before?"
Blodwyn laughs and says no, but we both think back to the leathery wings of the previous demons we've seen. Wings are rare among demonkind, but they aren't impossible to exist. And with the might of our muscles, tendons, blood, and everything inside... it's alright if they aren't perfect.
A split second later, as I fall, bones spurt out of my back while tendrils of blood and cords of muscle follow them. Before I even get low to the ground, Blodwyn takes control of the wings, beating them and hurtling us toward our target as the Blood Nexus beside our heart delivers untold power. I'd use Painsforge, too, but... the transformation didn't hurt at all.
Glancing back as we fall just for curiosity's sake, I don't know how to feel as I notice the wings, each kind of look like a hand, with five bony spines that resemble fingers along them to hold the structure together. But I don't have time to linger on them as the Demigod below spots me.
Or, more accurately, one of the many Motherbound do, and they inform them. A splattering wave of hundreds of different assaults of Ether head my way, and a gatling of Living Manacles bats most of the danger aside.
The little that remains, primarily mental attacks or those that are difficult to deflect like this spinning bone tendril, don't make it further than my skin.
Diving further down, the Demigod stares right up as I feel their Dominion shift. It seems... staring closing, I get a feeling of... teeth from the soul. Interesting... I'm not close enough to cancel it out with Shape, so instead, I twist in the air, letting the newly shaped wings cover me from the coming danger.
A colossal maw, birthed with the eyes of an incomprehensible terror, emerges from nothingness and bites at my wings. Before impact, I do what I can to weaken it, but I can only rely on Blodwyn and my Living Manacles to lessen the force.
Pain radiates from my body as the teeth puncture the wings, and a few enter my stomach, but I do not get bit in half. Smiling through the pain, I feel Blodwyn has already gotten to work. The gaping hole in my stomach as the creature vanishes shifts to be a missing hand. Bloodlet can transfer and augment injuries themselves. How incredible.
All the wounds, including those of my newly generated wings, equal that of a missing hand.
"Good work."
Blodwyn grunts in acknowledgment as he's still focused on doing other things, namely regenerating that lost left hand. I leave him to it as I further close the distance to the Demigod, finally landing on the ground as another maw appears above.
This time, I'm a bit closer, so I can weaken the Dominion more. Furthermore, before the tangled mess of darkness reaches me, I inhale deeply. Ether fills my everything, joining into my body and lessening the effects of my restraints.
Then, I tighten my fist and force all that Ether out of the freshly regrown hand, letting the build-up within my heart explode outward.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone