Aetheral Space

Jamilu Aguta had trained through life-and-death scenarios for many years. He had felt the blade. He had tasted poison and overcome its sting. He had seen the ground rush towards him from an unkind distance.

Because of this training, this excruciating training, Jamilu Aguta was just barely able to avoid the second attack.

Flung from the meeting room by sheer air pressure, Jamilu threw himself behind a pillar just in time to avoid the blast of force that followed. The hallway was churned and ripped apart, turned into a collapsing tunnel -- all with a single thrust from a single fist. With that tiny movement, such force akin to a compressed hurricane was produced.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

Xander Rain stomped out of the room in slow but steady pursuit of his prey, still encased and puppeteered by his own Absolutian.

Jamilu wracked his Principality for information on the beast approaching him. In contrast to Xander Rain's ability over the flow of things, little data had been collected on this enhanced form of his. Still, he could work some things out via observation.

An Absolutian was an ability particular to members of the Tree of Might -- it sealed off any other Aether abilities they might possess, and produced raw physical enhancement based on the potential of those abilities. Rain's flow control had near-limitless potential… and so his Absolutian provided enough strength to even overwhelm his mind, turning him into this crazed berserker.

That was how it worked -- but the question remained: what was Jamilu going to do about it?

"I got a suggestion for you, brat," Victory whispered in his ear.

This time, a visual hallucination accompanied its voice -- a vague humanoid shadow, looming over Jamilu's shoulder, just like how the demon had appeared when Jamilu had first claimed it. He turned away fully, focusing his attention on the monster as it dug blindly through the rubble for him.

"Don't be like that," Victory purred. "Come on. It's a good plan. You'll like it. Just hand me the reins, and I'll take care of this guy. Easy peasy. Then I'll hand control riiight back. Sounds good, right?"

"Silence," Jamilu hissed -- but, quiet as he made it, even that noise was too much.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

Rain's tree-trunk of a leg smashed through the pillar in an instant, sending a hail of rubble crashing through the room. Jamilu narrowly avoided the attack with a flip backwards -- kicking off the wall and leaping through the shattered ceiling onto the next level up. Another roar followed him, the sound causing the floor to collapse behind him as he ran.

Jamilu was under no illusions here.

One arm, blood loss, against an opponent like this? The odds were not in his favour. This wasn't a battle that he could win with will and skill alone. If he wanted to take down this thing Xander Rain had become, he would need to be crafty. He'd need to use the tools at his disposal.

"Case in point," the shadow of Victory whispered as it drifted alongside him, staring with those tiny pink eyes. "Come on, man. You've heard the stories. You know I could destroy this brat. How about this? I give my word that I will return control after this opponent is defeated. It'll be a contract between me and you."

Jamilu shot him a quick glare as he vaulted over a chunk of rubble. "As if I could take your word for it, demon."

The pink eyes narrowed into a look of equal resentment. "Aw, and you used to be so cute, too," Victory growled. "What happened to honouring your ancestor, buddy? I'm not feeling the love here."

"Back then," Jamilu said, skidding to a halt as he reached the balcony. "I knew you only by reputation. Now I've seen inside your mind. There is nothing about you worth honouring."

To call Jamilu's strategy a 'retreat' actually wouldn't be so accurate. He hadn't put much distance between himself and his enemy at all -- instead, he'd gone to the second level of the meeting chamber and circled around to an overlooking balcony, essentially putting himself right above where he'd started. He wasn't running to get away, after all. He was running to get something back.

There, resting amidst the rubble, battered and snapped and soaked in his blood.

Jamilu Aguta's lost arm.

tear. claw. bite. kill.

establish it establish your supremacy and take meat between your teeth and twist and know yes know that you exist and are and are to be acknowledged and eat acknowledgement and become it in the hearts of others and

breathe

Xander Rrrrrain galloped (faster faster FASTER FASTER) through the ruins of some place? He had to, he had to, he had to, he had to. there was an enemy here. An Enemy Of "Supremacy". he had to act (it was expected of him) he had to

Do battle. It was the duty of a warrior of the Supremacy to Do battle and establish hierarchy wherever he went. Without hierarchy there is only "Chaos". there must be a superior in all things. His father had said that. Yes yes yes yes yes.

Oh!

his prey had Fled/Ran, Vamoosed, trying to escape but there was no escape not from his claws of bark nor from the claws of SUPREMACY there was a duty upon his back a duty running over his tongue and he would see it through

So he hunted. So he hunted. So he hunted.

PILLARS WERE LIKE MATCHSTICKS AGAINST HIS BULK. THE SMELL OF BLOOD TINGED THE AIR LIKE THE SWEETEST PUDDING. CRIMSON FOOTPRINTS LAID THE TRAIL. HE FOLLOWED, HE FOLLOWED, HE FOLLOWED.

"Yes". A duty upon his back. It rrrested there. It clawed there.

There were expectations of him. Father was dead, but his expectations survived him. Xander was nothing but a beast, but his duty lingered. He had to defeat the enemy and become strong.

or else such disappointment on his back

How would he answer Damon the Devilish? despite his madness, before his madness, he had been potent and sublime, a warrior, a soldier.

How would he answer Ragnar the Redeemer? like a force of nature the redeemer had driven SUPREMACY back into glorious tradition, no matter how much of it burned in the process.

How would he answer Cariot the Canny? with pieces of silver and vengeance in his heart, he had played the corporations like instruments and ushered in a new age of prosperity.

How would he answer Imperator One? some did not count the automatic, but he had slain a SUPREME and sat the throne -- he counted he counted he counted he counted!

How would he answer Gael the Golden? the hero who gathered heroes to his side, who slew the evil emperor and raised the "Hero-Light" up high.

How would he answer Henri the Glutton? the man who had pursued his own will in all things, who had tasted glory and belched it forth to strangle the world.

How would he answer Kadmon the Indolent? the man with strength unending and overflowing, who could destroy the world by standing in place, the embodiment of power itself.

How would he answer the Supreme?

"Make sure I'm not interrupted. When the time comes, we'll regroup and make our leave. Fight well."

yes yes yes yes fight well fight not to bring "Shame" upon yourself be a WARRIOR not a wild beast but

"ABSOLUTIAN!"

but he'd done it hadn't he he'd betrayed his promises he'd opened the power he could not control and now it raged through his mind like a runaway train train train train choo choo hahahahaha

Shameful. Pathetic.

What would your father think?

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

his fault

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

because of him you are like this so shameful so small

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

JAMILU AGUTA

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

GET RID OF HIM. NOW!!!

His body smashed through the wall as he caught the presence of his foe, re-entering the massive room, saliva spraying from his teeth to kill to kill to kill! The enemy was here. The enemy was here. Whipping his head this way and that and this and that way, he spotted the viiiiiiiictim.

Jamilu Aguta, standing in the centre of the room, holding something in his hand. Doesn't matter what. Doesn't matter, doesn't matter, doesn't matter. Just needs dead. Just needs killed. Xander's hands crack ready to dig and he lunges and he snarls and he --

-- he sees Jamilu Aguta hurl his bloody burden right towards him.

A thought of stray lucidity pops into his mind as he sees it hurtle in…

Arm?

Calamity.

The world turned pink, and the world burned bright.

As Jamilu detonated his severed arm, his shadow stretched out far behind him from the sheer light, becoming a thin line that painted the shattered wall. Waves upon waves of pink flames rushed forth from the event horizon of the coup de grace, painting the ravaged chamber in its colours. Xander Rain's body was no longer visible. It had vanished in the heart of the inferno.

Jamilu scowled deeply as he stared at where the boy had been. He took no pleasure in this.

When you got down to it, regardless of its abilities, an Absolutian was just an Aether construct that intersected with the user's body. It was perhaps the worst possible match-up against Jamilu's Calamity, which exclusively devoured the products of Aether. Against the bright flames of his sacrificed flesh, this Tree of Might was no more than kindling.

At least… that's how it should have been.

Jamilu Aguta blinked -- and in that instant of darkness, he found himself raised into the air, held aloft by a massive hand around his throat.

Xander Rain had not perished.

The pink flames of Calamity licked and ate at his Absolutian, but the construct remained fully intact and operational -- the speed with which it had seized Jamilu was testament to that. As the flames burnt away at the gnarled wood of the Absolutian, new branches grew just as quickly to repair the damage. Perhaps, given time, Victory's flames would win the tug of war…

…but Jamilu Aguta had no more time.

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Held in the air by the boy half and double his height, Jamilu gasped for breath, wrestling with the tight wooden grip with his remaining hand. Useless. Even with all his infusion, he was no match in physical strength for this monster who'd sacrificed consciousness for that power. The moment the disaster had gotten its hands on him, victory had become impossible.

"Unless…?"

The roaring stopped, as did the sounds of chaos outside. The grip on Jamilu's throat ceased tightening, instead freezing like a vice. Even the specks of dust in the air floated in place, as if paused.

He understood it. The final moment of consciousness, stretched out by desperation, a natural phenomenon enhanced to absurdity by Aether. This was what dying felt like.

Looking down, Jamilu glared -- not at the bestial grin of Xander Rain, but past him, to the shadow lurking over the First Branch's shoulder.

I would be rid of you in my last moments, he said silently. Begone.

Victory smiled, a pearly white grin barely visible through the gloom of his form.

"They don't have to be your last moments, brat," it said insistently. "Come on. There's wiggle room here. I'm telling you. Hand over the reins, and I'll help you out."

I am not some horse to be driven where you like, demon.

"No, you're not," Victory admitted. "Instead, you're a failure. You're gonna let some dumbass pride get you killed by this little shit? You're gonna throw away your debt to the Oba for it?"

Jamilu narrowed his eyes.

If my end is brought about by my own decisions and abilities, then so be it. To perish in battle is not forsaking my debt -- it is fulfilling it. There is nothing more honourable than to fall for a worthy cause.

You, who are no longer human, cannot understand that.

"You little fuck…"

Insult as you wish, bargain as you like… it will find no purchase within me, Old Demon of the Dawn. Every word you speak is poison, Victory. I will not drink them.

Begone.

The shadow faded -- and in the moment before his perception rushed back into life, in the moment before the hand squeezed that tiniest bit more -- Jamilu heard Victory's bitter voice.

"So be it."

Crack.

"...keep his … off the…"

"...reapply the… stop … bleeding…"

"...Oba… pulse… alive…"

"Jamilu Aguta," the Oba of Inganci said quietly. "Are you still with us?"

Jamilu's eyes snapped open, and he immediately sat up -- ignoring the waves of excruciating pain that accompanied the movement. To bow was out of the question in his current state, but lying down before the Oba was too disgraceful to contemplate. Jamilu lowered his head, breathing heavily.

"You shouldn't move so quickly," the Oba admonished. "Our healers just got done applying their abilities. It'll be some minutes before you're up and about again."

Jamilu's eyes flicked around. He was still in the meeting room -- or what was left of it, a shattered egg, open to the world outside. The red light of a setting sun painted the sky over the city. Xander Rain must have gone on even more of a rampage after defeating him.

Defeat. He tightened his remaining fist. Yes, the boy had beaten him, tossed him around like he was a ragdoll and gone off to continue his mad rampage. How many had perished because of Jamilu's failure to stop him?

He went to ask, but the Oba raised a hand.

"The boy has been captured," he said reassuringly. "In the end, that ability of his burnt itself out. I won't lie and say there were no casualties… but the damage you had already done to him was instrumental. You were a saviour today."

Kind words, but they felt empty. The Oba was simply trying to make Jamilu feel better for his failure. That was just the sort of man he was.

"What's the situation?" Jamilu asked, massaging his bruised throat.

The Oba took a deep breath. "Grim."

"Tell me of it."

"You haven't even recovered yet, my boy," the Oba frowned deeply.

"I can heal and learn at the same time. Tell me of it."

The Oba took a deep breath. "Many are dead. The Supreme rampaged through this place, captured members of the Central Governing Council, and fled back towards the border. I imagine we'll be receiving his demands before long."

"Members of the council…" Jamilu mused. "But not you?"

The Oba grinned. "He tried."

At that, Jamilu allowed the slightest relief to turn his lips. The Oba wasn't a man to be taken lightly. Even with the power of Victory behind Jamilu, the sparring matches against his monarch had always felt like even fights.

"So… what now?" Jamilu asked, slowly picking himself up using Victory's pole as a crutch.

"Gainhill has dispatched UniteFleet to pursue the Supreme," the Oba said, helping Jamilu to his feet. "His hope is to stop that madman before he can cross the border. That is… my hope as well."

With those last words, his expression darkened a tad. Jamilu looked up at him.

"My Oba?"

"Many times," the Oba said quietly. "You have spoken of this debt you think you have towards me… and many times, I have told you this debt does not exist. I still believe this -- and yet, it is my shame that I must ask for it to be repaid now."

Jamilu took a quick breath.

"No," he said firmly. "No shame at all, my Oba."

The Oba smiled softly, planting both his hands on Jamilu's shoulders. "Always duty, eh?"

"Always."

"The Supreme is no small opponent," the Oba said. "If he escapes the UAP, the day is lost. Do you understand?"

"I will pursue him," Jamilu nodded. "He will not get away from me."

"This is no time for half-measures, Nebula Two. Will you give me all of your will for this?"

"I will," Jamilu bowed.

The Oba put his hands behind his back. "Will you give me all of your strength for this?"

"I will." The bow deepened.

The Oba smiled. "Your strength, your body, your power, your reason, your skill, your everything? Will you surrender it all to me?"

Jamilu's forehead thumped against the floor.

This was it. This was the moment he'd dreamed of.

Ever since the day he had entered into the Oba's service, Jamilu Aguta had walked with a second shadow behind him. His oath. His debt. The duty to pay back what he had been given, to exchange kindness for glory, to prove that the Oba's decision back then had not been a mistake.

And now… and now…

"I will," he promised.

Jamilu looked up from the floor, a smile already spreading across his lips. The time had come at last. The Oba mirrored his expression, parting his lips into a grin… a grin almost too wide for his face.

"Thanks, brat," he giggled. "Appreciate it!"

Jamilu's mind ground to a halt, and the red sky outside seemed to shift further into the hue of blood. It had tricked him. The demon had tricked him. This wasn't the real world at all, was it? He hadn't survived the attack, had he?! The attack hadn't ended yet, his perception was still slowed down, it was still happening, it had tricked him, it had tricked him!

"Will you surrender it all to me?"

He had made such a promise, to a creature that was itself a promise.

Jamilu Aguta opened his mouth.

"Wait --!"

Far too late.

The capital city of Inganci was filled with the roar of life…

…and the Watcher-Bell was silent and still.

And then, it wasn't. There, at the top of the palace, it began to swing back and forth, emitting booms like artillery. The crimson Principalities that floated over the heads of every soldier and warrior spun in alarm, the signal transmitted by the bell being transmitted far and wide.

Alert. Alert.

The time had come.

One of the Old Demons of the Dawn had slipped their chains.

The others felt it too, of course, whether they were in the hands of another wielder or deep in a dusty vault. Their sibling now walked free. The hour of carnage had come about again.

The hammer of Resolve groaned.

The bow of Mercy sobbed.

The sword of Daring bellowed.

The crown of Wisdom chuckled.

The capital city of Inganci was hushed into silence…

…and the Watcher-Bell rang with the roar of death.

The world shattered. It happened in three seconds.

In the first second, the arm of Xander Rain's Absolutian went flying off. The snap was clean, the work of a lightning-fast jab. The severed limb of wood flipped through the air, dissipating into brown Aether before it could even hit the ground. The body it had been holding dropped to the ground with unnatural ease -- as though it had suddenly been reduced to the weight of a feather.

"Ah…"

The sound crept through the shattered meeting room, full of relief and void of grit, as if suddenly freed from heavy chains.

Then came the next second.

Pink Aether erupted from the body, consuming the entire chamber in a wave of energy. If it hadn't been for the roof, it surely would have speared through the sky as a pillar -- instead, it escaped in every direction, burning so bright that it would have been visible far out in the city beyond. Great bolts of Aether fired out through the broken windows at an angle, each time accompanied by a resounding crash.

"So much better…"

In the third second… Victory smiled.

It was an expression entirely unsuited for the face he had stolen. The grin spread too far for those cheeks, the eyes widened too much for those lids. A tongue slithered over gums with newfound flexibility, tasting fresh teeth.

His Principality had changed, too. It had gone from a red ring to a thin pink dervish, giving the impression of something spinning in place, deadly sharp. Safeguards and restrictions broken, allowing access beyond what the ability's architect had intended.

Victory adjusted his neck with his one hand, enjoying the audible crack.

"Man… it's good to be back!" he winked.

Old Demon of the Dawn

VICTORY

"Ojo Isegun"

He Who Brings The Blood To Flow

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!"

"Oh right," he laughed, turning to look at the monster beside him without a care in the world. "Right, right, you're still here, huh?"

Xander Rain's Absolutian had already recovered the arm it had lost. Just like the trees these little guys loved so much, a new limb had sprouted forth from the stump of the old, already grasping at the air in anticipation of Victory's throat. Still the picture of utter relaxation, Victory turned on his heel to face his opponent fully.

"Gotta be honest," Victory said, scratching behind his ear casually. "I'm actually pretty grateful to you. I mean, I had that whole trick kicking around in my head for a while, but the setup you gave me? M'wah!"

As Victory closed his eyes to mime a chef's kiss, Xander Rain charged, arms lunging forward to tear the man before him in two. No doubt, in the mind of a beast, that moment looked like an opening. It was no such thing.

This was a coup de grace.

"Compass," Victory said. "Xander Rain's weak-point."

Jamilu Aguta had not had full access to Victory's abilities. For example, Compass -- when wielded second-hand -- was a simple search power, allowing the user to locate a spoken target within range. In the hands of its true user, though?

It located and attacked in the exact same instant.

Victory's spear leapt off the ground, moving so fast that it became a straight line carved into the air. In less time than it took to blink, it circled Xander and blasted through the back of his armour, severing one umbilical vine among hundreds that served as his Absolutian's core. Before he could even finish the first step of his charge, Xander collapsed, his wooden armour already crumbling around him.

Fortunately, Victory managed to catch the poor kid before he fell.

"How the tables turn, huh?" Victory grinned as he held the unconscious boy up by the throat. "You really are a lucky guy, though. I mean, I'm in a great mood right now. This is probably the best time to lose a fight to me. Just for you…"

His eyes widened, pink pupils crackling with energy.

"...I won't double-tap!"

Cackling, he whirled around and hurled Xander at the wall, savouring the sickening crack as the boy's back struck the concrete and he slid down to the floor. The moment his hand was free, he stomped down on his spear, flipping the weapon upright for him to catch. The last traces of Aguta's golden seal had vanished from the Aether Armament -- now it was a sickly red thing, a weapon forged from flesh and blood.

Just one last thing. This body's old owner hadn't been too nice to it, after all. Victory raised the stump of his missing arm up towards the ceiling.

"Calamity."

Blood sprayed up from the wound -- and that blood burnt, spitting forth a pink inferno like an organic flamethrower. Rather than go wild, though, those flames concentrated and coalesced, heat enough to burn a body to ashes instead focusing into a single fixed shape. Within a few seconds, the process was complete. A new arm now protruded from Victory's stump, stretched up as if to show itself off.

An arm of solid pink flame, ending with a clawed hand. The arm of a demon.

He could already feel his mind opening back up again. To tell the truth, he hadn't been as simple-minded as he'd made it seem as a spear, but his thinking had still been limited in that form. He'd needed to search around his mind with a spotlight to find what he'd needed back then… but now the sun had come out -- and honey, it was burning.

Free for the first time in two centuries. Ah… what a thrill!

He stepped out towards the window, rubbing his chin -- not with the hot hand -- as he took in the sight of the city. Shining skyscrapers, clear skies… and the augur of the Supremacy looming above. Quite the thing to wake up to. Quite the thing to wake up to indeed.

Still, not his problem.

There was stuff he'd like to get done. Not duties, but interests. He had to figure out a way back home, after all, to bust Wisdom and the others out too. But for the time being? There it all was, just outside. Serendipity… ready and waiting for him.

Meat for his teeth and blood for his tongue.