Chương 515: Sweating Past
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Lennon 'Bladed Monster' Hull
The two stare at me, both nearly stunned by the floating Claymore orbiting me. It is identical to Dia, just as the one in my hand is. It is Dia, only... a different manifestation of her.
I reach out with another hand to grab her, to take Momentum into my hand, but I pause halfway to the sword. A warning within my skull fires haphazardly. That is not something I should do.
Two Concepts should not share the same space unless they are highly compatible. I know that. Still... it pains me not to use that sword.
Kaisen's laughter breaks me from my thoughts as his scythe remains pointed toward me. His exhilaration has only increased since he saw what I'm capable of.
"Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Haha! He's copied your Concept, Manoga! Hahah! That's hilarious! Wait... How did he do that? I thought there could only be one at a time?"
The other God, his body shifting with the dark waters of his domain, scoffs as he knees and picks up his weapons again. They flip in his hands dangerously as he prompts Kaisen to cut his bullshit.
"It's not my Concept. It's... just close, just like how we slow the advance of those beneath us. His is a lesser form. If he kills me, though... that's a different story. Now. Will you finally fight him with me?"
The Nahullo flicks an eye to Manoga, still laughing. He waves his free hand while the one with the scythe spews more ash that builds upon his body.
"No way! We're just getting started! Now! We're all almost at our peaks! Come on, Manoga! Show us why she trusts you so much! I know you got a secret..."
Kaisen's tone is insidious and threatening while my legs stabilize. I look down at the rocks beneath me as I discover the splattering of blood I've left behind. It's not looking good. While I'm a Demigod, that doesn't mean I'm immune to bleeding out, only incredibly resistant.
It doesn't help that both of these two specialize in making someone bleed. They're wringing me until I have nothing left.
But I don't have any time to waste on my injuries beyond simple care.
My clothes are tattered to all hell, but I find a few strips of cloth on the ground and tie them around the most egregious wounds to help stave the blood loss. Meanwhile, I listen to the two arguing Gods.
"Kaisen. Watch what you're asking for."
The God of Rivers warns Kaisen with a sharp glare before stepping toward me. However, the God of War doesn't like the other's answer. He calls right back for him, egging him on.
"Come on! Don't you want to fight at your best!? At all of our bests! Hell! We're some of the strongest in all the realms! He's the strongest mortal to ever exist! And us! We're her strongest Gods! How glorious would it be! The adrenaline! The excitement! Ah! DO IT!, MANOGA!"
A scream tears through the sky, ripping up rock and causing the clouds to swoon above, a storm brewing from a voice alone. Kaisen...
I look at him closely, finding the Ether around him only building further. Right. A Sirza. They don't stop growing until they either kill the user or are halted. Beyond that... he is brimming with the very nature of War. Surrounding him, the earth suffers constant damage, as if him simply existing wages war on the world.
The space near Manoga is far more calm, but the God himself is losing his patience. Something is unraveling within the God of Rivers. A shiver runs down my spine as I sense something shift in his being as his bent shoulders unwind.
Manoga stands tall, the typical lean and lowered stance built for taking advantage of another's momentum utterly vanishing.
"Fine. If it gets you to fucking shut up... I'll show you what I've learned from you mortals in my currents."
Ether swirls around the liquid humanoid, and my heart skips a beat. I knew Manoga learned swordsmanship from mortals, but...
That's not all he learned. To a God such as him, there is only one thing he would find worthy of study. Our pinnacles aren't enough. He'd only grasp for that which goes beyond.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I won't make it in time to stop him. Kaisen won't let me.
I backpedal quickly, kicking away faster and faster as Kaisen's booming laughter fills the coast of Onyx Gate. The waves in the distance react to his voice, but that's not all they respond to.
The Ether sings as Manoga takes a step toward me, raising an open palm as the color in his eyes turns from that of Darklight to a luminescent blue. Words enter my soul, no matter how much I try to push them out of my head.
Currents Carve Worlds In Twain.
The Sirza is birthed within a second. That is all the time it takes for the world to utterly evaporate from what I once knew.
The sky above, all the clouds that used to exist within it, liquefy, turning into millions of carving streams that head straight down for me. Each slices the air at a speed similar to Manoga's personal strikes.
The ocean behind me, all the waves that flow in and out throughout the day, disappear into identical swords of liquid. Every damn one comes right for me, too. As far as I can see into the seas, there is only the bottom of the ocean, devoid of water.
The ponds, creeks, and rivers nearby suffer the exact fate of the ocean and the sky. The currents come to carve me in twain, just as they could do to a world.
The moisture that was once between my hand and my blade evaporates, and even the blood on the floor disperses. It is an odd feeling to be hurt but without any blood. The sweat I had shed is gone, too. Worse, however, is how my own blood turns against me. Just as my internals war from Kaisen's Concept, I now have another foe to protect against.
Despite it all, I relax my body as the sound of what could only be millions of pounds of water hurtles for my flesh as their destination. I can tell some are going for Kaisen, too, but I am obviously the primary target. Manoga is just trying to satisfy Kaisen while finishing me off.
My shoulders fall back as pops ring out from my torso, spine, and neck. The Ether stops fueling my body with Monster, the skill so deeply ingrained that it's nearly constantly used at this point. I can concentrate it, yes, but only at the absolute instant I need it.
The control is how I fight for so much longer now. I only use what is necessary. Fractions of a fraction of a fraction of a second. That is how I fight for so long. That is how I survive.
My eyelids shut as I open my ears for guidance. I listen, praying to hear my old man's words. I need help.
It hurts to say, but that is the truth.
I need help. Again.
The whistling waters, however, only come nearer and nearer as the fractions of a second pass me by.
I pray for his words to guide me. And yet none come.
Ah, I see. I see, Edmund.
I have learned all you had to teach, huh? Those were your last words for me? You had no more? Or... am I no longer insane? Hah... Does it even matter?
Every single lesson of the mind, soul, and body.
In the end, old man, you were just that—an aged soldier. Peerless wisdom eventually finds an end when matched with the likes of incomprehensible might.
So, then... what did I learn?
What have I learned throughout all these years? Throughout all these battles?
When you have no more blood to bleed, no more sweat to shed, and no more tears to cry, you dig your feet into the dirt.
There is no help coming for me. There never will be. It is just me.
Even Dia isn't real. She's... just me. The hallucinations from before become glaringly clear. Dia is a sword, and that is all. Concepts might rest within her two copies, but that doesn't make her living. Perhaps, eventually, she might be, but not while I rule over the Concepts within.
The joyous laughter of Manoga rumbles through the chaos, a sound almost lost in the cacophony of descending waters. Still, it pulls me to a tranquil peace, a trim drop of water onto a motionless lake. If there is no help coming to me... then...
Color returns to my pupils as I stare down the coming tsunami of waterly blades. Instead of retreating, what any reasonable person would do against a Sirza such as this, I advance. It is what I know best. I am not a runner. I do as the old man demands of me.
I swing Dia with all my might, slicing through the first blade without too much difficulty, but there are many more. Two, three, four, twenty, fifty, one hundred. The numbers blur as I'm alternating the Claymore in my hands with more skill than I've ever had before.
But it's like fighting against a never-ending flood. Each successful block or redirection costs me precious energy, and I can feel my strength waning. It already was.
I take a few more steps forward, but quickly, they turn into a slide that burrows backward as the pressure becomes more than I can handle.
The other Dia, made of Momentum instead of Perfection, floats beside me wistlessly. For some reason, I had thought it was aiding me all along, but I see now that was not the case.
I focus my mind, directing my soul to interact with the Concept within. The tether made between it and me is painful, draining more of what I don't have rapidly. And yet, it instantly moves with a will of its own, cutting through the watery onslaught with a growing might after every motion.
With Momentum supporting me, I make progress once more. Step by step, I push forward, the two Dias working in perfect harmony. They are the same, only taking advantage of a different aspect of my skills. But the effort is nonetheless immense. The relentless currents threaten to overwhelm me, and I can feel myself sliding backward, even as I struggle to maintain my footing.
I meet the Sirza head-on, pushing forward even as my rudimentary bandages fall in place of new wounds and my blood transforms into even more dangers for me to face. Beyond all the noise, I can hear Kaisen's maddening laughter.
He's within this, too.
The fact he's still alive bestows me strength. If he can live through this... so can I.
But... my soul has grown so weak.
It is at times like these that I would think back to his lessons, taking in the portions I did not fully comprehend. Even now, I instinctively look to Edmund, but there is nothing for me in those memories. He is gone. I need to accept that. He cannot help me anymore. He cannot guide me anymore. I will never feel his hand upon my shoulder or his prideful gaze on my battles. I have left him so far in the dust that now I am alone.
I had started to open up some months ago and started to care for another after all the casualties in my past. After Edmund's passing... And I learned why I shouldn't have. All those who align with me die. It is a brutal truth.
The God I had built within my soul as an anchor is without any strength for me to draw from. Questions linger in my skull, bouncing around rapidly as I fight on.
Time passes listlessly while my muscles tear themselves apart.
Why am I so untalented in Ether?
Why must it all be so difficult?
Why do I never receive help as the others do?
No gifts ever come my way. It is only hard-fought spoils that adorn my scars.
But...
Why can I not become a God?
Why do I need to be good with Ether? Why can't a Concept just find its way into my body!? Why!? WHY!?
I'm held back by this useless nature of mine! Why did I have to be born human!? If I was... If I was anything else, this whole life would have been so fucking different.
It would have. I...
I just need to accept it. I will not become a God. I've tried to absorb Perfection. And even Momentum, but it all just makes me feel so sick. It's beyond odd. I should be able to take in a Concept! Right!? Or... is that why my resonance is so low? I nearly died taking in my first Sigil, and that was with months of preparation from Edmund.
I just don't have the talent, huh?
Fine then.
I'll dig in my heels anyway.
My body screams with the effort of dodging, my muscles burning to a crisp from the friction, but I push on, driven by sheer spite against the world. My progress through the currents grows as I take one step after another. Bit by bit. I make it through the muddy waters.
All I've seen is dark blue for the past several minutes straight, and after it all, I glimpse the God himself beyond the waves. Manoga's eyes are closed, not even facing me as an ocean sings around him with millions of edges pointed at me.
He stands quietly, his hands clasped around a long, terrifying blade. Demonsbane. It's built up its power. Finally. I've been waiting years to see what it can really do—why it's called the strongest weapon in the world.
Dark, insidious Ether roils out of the edge of the blade. It doesn't possess any hint of Darklight, and that sends chills down my spine. Demonsbane's power is said to scale with its wielder, capable of accumulating any amount of trauma and exhaustion. And... We've been fighting for hours.
My eyes widen as I realize what is about to happen. I have an exceedingly short amount of time to react. It must be a thousands of the tick of the tiny hand on a clock. Manoga's arm flicks so strangely that I don't even see its shadow.
With a desperate swing, I bring my blade up defensively just in time to block the rift of darkness that cuts for me. The devouring rift of suffering meets Dia, and for a moment, for a long, painful moment, we hover at the edge of the horizon. Lights shift, Concepts clash, and Perfection loses to whatever was placed within that blade.
The impact shatters my sword, the pieces flying apart in a shower of sparks and metal that turns into oblivion. But there is a second—a fleeting, precious second—when the current of darkness hesitates from the clash inches before my neck.
Reaching outward into the air, I take hold of the second blade that was hovering around me, my fingers wrapping around the hilt as if it had always belonged there. With a surge of adrenaline, I slam my heels into the rushing dirt, feeling the ground shatter beneath me as I redirect all my strength and momentum.
With a roar, I thrust the blade forward, sliding the tip of the blade over Demonsbane's attack, and I flip directly over it. Momentum itself guides my way as I stare downward at the God of Rivers.
He looks up at me, bewildered in all his emotions. Contorting my foot above me to a watery blade that seeks my life, I kick with all the strength I've ever possessed, concentrating Monster to the maximum even as my leg is skewered.
In one swift motion, I let Dia loose.
The blade flies as it was always meant to, beautifully and born with the momentum of a life's worth of practice. The fathomless steel splits Manoga in half sideways, through his skull, down his spine, ripping apart the shoulders and heart before splitting his toes and heels to their own sides. And then, Momentum continues, opening up the earth below.
I quickly fall to my knees, not dying, but spent. Meanwhile, Manoga's face and the back of his head hid the ground simultaneously, and the two split from each other.
A painful laugh leaves my lungs as I can feel the world holding its breath. The waters lose their cohesion and fall without their owner. I've never killed someone like that before.
I even split the heart perfectly in the middle. And... I've learned something about myself. It is this momentum that keeps me going. This... perfect swirl of death, danger, and destruction that eggs me onward without an end. If I stop for even a moment... I fear...
No. I am certain. I will never take another step. This is a truth, born from my soul. I only walk forward do to the pressure behind me. After all, how could I not? With the man who had taught me, the battles I had survived, and the monsters that fell behind my steel... I would be worthless to stop swinging.
As such, when Darklight weaves out of his corpse, I force myself to rise to finish him off. Yet, I don't even get to my knees before a boot slams Manoga's Darklight into the dirt. Kaisen stares down at me with a smile, offering an opened palm, bloodied but not leaking Darklight.
"Good shit, lad. Hated that bastard for longer than fifty of your lives. I appreciate the help killin' 'em."
My confusion at the free hand is inexplainable, but Kaisen doesn't attack me. I simply stare at him blankly, devoid of energy now that the momentum was diverted. I can't even ask him the question I hold.
Nonetheless, he understands, kneeling down to look me in the eyes.
"I know, I know. You are wondering why I killed him. How could I kill him? Well..."
The God of War leans in real close, whispering into my ear.
"Because she doesn't control me. I do what I want. She does what she wants. If she wants to fight me for this? Perfect. If not? Well, I'll find something else to do. And if you're wondering how I reached this point... well, all of us Unnatural Gods reach that point eventually. It's... a uniqueness of us, I suppose. Not that she knows that. The poor spider still thinks she owns me. Hahaha! How amazing! Just wait... until she thinks she's won! I'll end it all in a glorious triumph! Ack! Ack! Fuck. Did a number on me, eh!?"
My jaw actually lowers several inches as I see the madness within War's eyes. Kaisen, the once Saint Of Scythes lost his mind long ago, even if he regained it upon his ascension. The bloodied coughs and sighs do little to make sympathy rise.
I like to fight. I like to battle. But...
This...
The ear-to-ear smile of the Nahullo with a scythe wrapped around his shoulders that points back at me reminds me of a crescent moon. The eclipse behind him only makes it that much worse.
I could ask him to help fight Usen in another way, but I know he'll decline. So...
"What now? Are you going to kill me?"
Kaisen shakes his head, and I can honestly say that I feel only dread in his answer. My heart sinks with every word until he mentions a specific name.
"Kill you? No. I'm saving you for later. You're a delicious treat to enjoy. Why eat you while you're soggy with blood? I think... I'll go visit that Vincent boy. I've heard a lot about him. A whole lot... and it gets me excited. If he's half the human you are... It'd be a wonderful birthday present for myself."
I hide my smile as Kaisen turns around, the ash on his body loosening and falling to the earth. He walks away with a short wave as I can only think about how little he knows about that man he is walking into.
Kaisen is strong, yes. He might even be the strongest God amongst Usen's entire army not counting the now-dead Manoga, and possibly by a long shot. But... he's no Wastelander.
He's going to get turned to dust, especially with the injuries we left him. If he does... I won't get my revenge for losing the first time.
Still... Fury builds within my chest. He's walking away from me? As if... as if I'm nothing? I... He's my enemy to kill! Not Vincent's! This bastard! He's already weak! Ichor drips all over and his body is slanted unnaturally! Just a little more! Come on! Get up!
I'd rather die than be left for later, like some kind of meal. My pride... it will not allow it. My swords will not allow it. Gritting my teeth so much that one of my molars cracks off, blood flooding down my lips, I howl at the Nahullo to turn back.
"Face me! Kill me! Don't just fucking leave me like some damned mutt! You bastard! Come back here! End it! NOW! Let's do this!"
The pale giant gazes at me with only the corner of one eye, the edges of his pupil blessing me with its presence as flakes of ash drift into the winds. The curled lip says it all before he returns to walking westward, his shadow cast by the eclipse. Nonetheless, he speaks just to dig it in.
"No. No, I don't think I will. See you later, Lennon. I can't wait to see you at your best. Because I know it's still coming."
I push for more strength in my arms, but there is nothing left. My chin contacts the shattered stones below as I have no more energy to spare. Regardless of my body's function collapsing, I don't close my eyes. My focus never leaves his departing back. Every crunch of his feet against the rocks strikes another chord within my stomach, the despair deepening. I... I haven't lost in...
I haven't truly lost... in...
A while.
And I hate it every time. It's worse than dying.
Still... I cannot let that momentum fade. If it does... all is over. And so, as my vision turns to darkness, the senses of my body vanishing to some void for rest, the unreal hands I possess tighten upon the mud beneath me. Slowly, gradually, I rise onto my knees. Kaisen is getting away. But I can't stop him. If I went after him now... with the whole war going on...
I want to. I really do. I want that fight. I want... I want to die.
But...
He taught me better, even if I never did listen all that well to his virtuous monologues. There are people out there who need help. A lot. Maybe... maybe it's time I help out a little bit. Just enough so that I do lose my momentum, though.
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