Amalgamation

by Lucas Flint

  “I don’t know,” said Bolt. He pointed at the Fist. “But they’re probably back in the Fist. So if we can just get in there, then we might be able to convince them to help us.”

  “Are you sure about that?” said Hypno doubtfully. “They didn’t look like they were interested in talking to us, much less helping us, given how quickly they left.”

  “I agree with the G-Man agent,” said a voice behind them. “The Starborn are clearly not interested in interacting with others. Talking to them is a waste of time.”

  Bolt looked over his shoulder to see the Midnight Menace standing behind all of them. Bolt was surprised to see the Midnight Menace standing here again, because last he’d seen, the Midnight Menace had been stabbed in the gut and bleeding out on the ground not far away from them. Yet now he looked perfectly at ease and did not seem to be bleeding, though the lack of lighting made it hard to tell what his current condition was.

  The others started when they noticed the Midnight Menace, with Aster even asking, “Who the hell are you?”

  “The Midnight Menace,” said the Midnight Menace without hesitation. “Leader of the Independent Neoheroes for Justice. And you are?”

  “Dean Aster,” said Aster. He looked a little apprehensive talking to the Midnight Menace. “Chief of the Interdimensional Elite Agency.”

  “I don’t recognize you,” said the Midnight Menace. His eyes shifted toward Captain Galaxy. “I recognize you, however. You helped me save Treehugger from the Venetians some time back.”

  “Yeah, I did,” said Captain Galaxy, nodding. “Long time, no see.”

  “Likewise,” said the Midnight Menace. Then his eyes shifted toward Hypno and his whole demeanor changed. He seemed to become tense, like a cat. “And you are a G-Man agent, correct?”

  “Indeed,” said Hypno with a bow. “My name is Hypno. We haven’t met, but I’ve heard all about you from the files we have on the INJ. You’re taller in real life than the pictures suggest.”

  Despite Hypno’s politeness, Bolt could sense thick tension between him and the Midnight Menace. That was no surprise. While the G-Men had a strained relationship with the superhuman community in general, their relationship with the INJ was almost antagonistic. Bolt was frankly surprised that the Midnight Menace was not trying to stab Hypno to death with his sword, but perhaps that was due to the fact that they had more important issues to worry about than superhuman politics.

  “How did you recover being stabbed?” said Bolt in amazement. “You don’t even seem to be bleeding anymore.”

  The Midnight Menace put a hand on his stomach, where the Avatar had stabbed him. “The Shadowlands heals me of any and all wounds I suffer. Getting stabbed was painful, true, but it was mostly inconvenient. It would have been worse if he had actually cut off my head or one of my limbs. That would have taken me out … for a while, anyway.”

  Bolt considered asking the Midnight Menace exactly how the Shadowlands ‘healed’ him or what he meant by the fact that losing his head would apparently not permanently take him out, but then he remembered that they had more important things to worry about at the moment and decided he would ask those questions later if he had a chance.

  “Right,” said Bolt. “Well, now that the Darzens are gone, let’s go into the Fist. We know that the Starborn are here and that they know that we are here. All we need to do is go inside and ask for their help.”

  “If they wanted to help us, they would have stayed here,” the Midnight Menace replied. “I imagine the only reason they showed up at all was because they wanted to scare off the Avatar and his minions. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have left as quickly as they came.”

  “Maybe, but so what?” said Bolt. He punched his fist into his other hand. “We still don’t know if they will help us or not, so until I get a clear and definitive ‘no’ from them, I’m going in. You can stay out here if you want.”

  The Midnight Menace sighed. “No, I’ll come with you. Not that I need to, but I’m invested in your quest enough by now that I can’t just abandon you.”

  “Really?” said Bolt in surprise. “Well, all right. It always helps to have more help on hand. Let’s go inside.”

  Bolt turned around and began walking over to the door to the Fist, with everyone else falling in line behind him. A sense of anticipation rose inside him, but at the same time, he also felt a sense of dread, wondering what would happen if the Starborn said no.

  There’s always Beams, Bolt thought. He’s trying to get the God Slayer. With luck, he’ll get it even if the Starborn kick us bodily out of their house. I just hope that he’s doing well and is close to getting the God Slayer, because if neither of us succeeds in our quests … then the Dread God wins.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  For a moment, Beams thought he had somehow ended up outside of the cave and back in Antarctica. The snow-white sky, which merged in the horizon with the white clouds and powdery snow on the earth, made him think he must have somehow gotten turned around at some point and ended up back at the cave mouth. A sense of panic overcame him at that moment as he wondered if this meant that he had somehow forfeit the challenge and would have to leave Ariopolis forever.

  But then when Beams looked around, it became obvious that he wasn’t back in Antarctica. He wasn’t sure where he was, exactly. He seemed to be on top of a massive, unfamiliar mountaintop so tall that he couldn’t even see the earth below. The mountain rose above the clouds, yet Beams had no trouble breathing up here at all, even though the air had to be thinner due to the elevation.

  The sun shone brightly above, but it was a cold, unfriendly sun. Before him stood what appeared to be the ruins of an altar of some sort. The ruined altar seemed to be made out of the same stuff as the ruins of Ariopolis, though Beams was clearly not standing that city. A simple gateway stood in front of the altar, though the gateway’s doors had been knocked off at some point because all that was left of the gateway itself were the hinges upon which the gates themselves once stood.

  “Welcome, challenger,” said a familiar voice behind him, “to the third and final challenge of the Gauntlet.”

  Beams turned around to see Guide sitting on top of a small pile of rocks on the edge of the mountain. As usual, Guide sat with his legs crossed and his hands on his knees, a perfect image of peace and tranquility. Beams wondered how Guide could be so tranquil when he was sitting on the edge of a very tall mountaintop. The fall alone would be fatal, even if the ground below was as soft as jello.

  “Was wondering when you’d show up,” said Beams. He looked around the desolate mountaintop again. “So this is the final challenge, huh? If I win this one, then I will get the God Slayer, right?”

  “And be declared a true son of Arius,” Guide added, “yes. You are one of the lucky few to have ever even made it this far, but it remains to be seen whether you will be the very first challenger to ever complete this challenge and win the God Slayer. Men stronger, faster, smarter, and wiser than you have reached this point in the past, only to find themselves utterly destroyed before they even knew it.”

  “I know,” said Beams. “You’ve told me this before. Where are we, anyway? Another pocket dimension?”

  “That is correct,” Guide said. He gestured at the desolate mountaintop around them. “This pocket dimension has no life in it. It is a dead place, with nothing but rock and mountain for as far as the eye can see. Arius himself discovered this place not very long after the death of the Dread God. He decided that this dimension would be the perfect spot for the third and final challenge in the Gauntlet, a fitting end for those brave and smart enough to make it all the way here.”

  Beams nodded. “It’s definitely epic enough to be a place for a final confrontation. What’s up with the altar, though?”

  “Arius himself built it ages ago,” said Guide. “He made it as a monument to the freedom which he had won for his people, as a symbol of the fact that they would never be under the yoke of the Dread God or anyone else ever again. It h
as fallen into ruin since then, but even so, it is still a powerful symbol in and of itself.”

  “I see,” said Beams. “So what is the final challenge, then? You still haven’t said.”

  “Turn around,” said Guide, “and look at the altar. Then you will see the challenge.”

  Frowning and wondering if Guide was trolling him, Beams nonetheless turned around to face the ancient stone altar. At first, nothing happened for a long while, but then the altar began to vibrate. Beams thought an earthquake was shaking the mountain, but then he realized that only the altar was vibrating and not the rest of the mountain. He just stood there, watching the altar vibrate faster and faster, wondering if it was about to explode and, if so, whether it made sense to duck now in order to avoid the inevitable debris which would go flying in every direction when it blew up.

  Then the altar stopped vibrating. A second later, a crack ran down the middle of the altar and it split in two, with both halves sliding apart like they were on some kind of chain. Something rose slowly from within the altar, rising higher and higher until it eventually emerged entirely. Beams’ jaw dropped when he saw what it was.

  The object which had risen from within the altar was a sword. It wasn’t just any sword, however. Its handle was golden and its hand guard was silver. The blade itself was made out of a beautiful crystal, shining brightly and brilliantly under the cool sun above. It looked like it had been forged only yesterday, but at the same time gave off the impression that it was infinitely older than that, infinitely older than perhaps even the city of Ariopolis. It seemed holy as if it repelled dirt and decay by its very nature.

  “What is that?” said Beams, staring at the sword in awe.

  “That, brave challenger, is the God Slayer,” said Guide. “Forged by the gods, granted to Arius to fight the Dread God, it is the most powerful weapon in existence. With one swing of its mighty blade, even a god as mighty as the Dread God will fall like a tree hacked by an ax. His minions and worshipers can barely even stand to be in its presence without fleeing in fear and even the Dread God hesitates to fight any mortal who wields this blade.”

  “It’s even more beautiful than I thought,” said Beams, unable to take his eyes off the blade. “Look at that craftsmanship. It has to be a one of a kind.”

  “It is,” Guide said. “It’s even immune to the laws of the multiverse. There are not multiple different versions of this blade in different realities. There is one, and only one, God Slayer, and you are currently staring at it.”

  “How does that work?” said Beams, looking over his shoulder at Guide. “How could anyone create a sword like that?”

  “I do not know,” said Guide with a shrug. “The ways of the gods are as much a mystery to me as they are to you. I can say, however, that only a son of Arius can wield the God Slayer and live. Anyone else who attempts to wield that sword will be destroyed.”

  Beams couldn’t help but smirk. “You mean this is the third challenge? Just walk over and pick up the God Slayer? That’s easy.”

  “It’s much more difficult than that, Alex,” said a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere suddenly. “Much, much more difficult.”

  A massive hand came out of the shadows behind the God Slayer and wrapped around its handle. With a grunt, the hand pulled the God Slayer out of its plinth and raised the blade above his head. The figure then stepped out of the shadows and into the light and Beams gasped at what he saw:

  It was Arius. He looked much the same as he did back in the Dread Realm: Powerfully built and muscular, with flowing black hair and skin like bronze. He wore a simple loincloth around his waist and wore thick leather boots, but other than that he wore no clothes. Not that he needed any because he looked so strong that Beams doubted he felt the cold.

  “Arius?” said Beams. “What are you doing here? I thought you were dead.”

  “I am,” said Arius, “but my spirit can still reach the mortal realm sometimes, such as now. Before I died eons ago, I tied my spirit to this place, to protect the God Slayer and ensure that it only fell into the hands of someone truly worthy of wielding this powerful and destructive weapon.”

  Beams gulped. “Then that means—”

  “Yes,” said Guide. He appeared next to Beams, still appearing like Arius. “The third and final challenge of the Gauntlet is to fight and defeat Arius in combat. Arius will use the God Slayer as his weapon of choice, while you will use your lasers and your wits to survive.”

  Beams looked at Guide. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Joking?” Guide repeated. “I am not joking. You really do have to best Arius in combat. That is the third and final challenge. That is also the reason why no one has ever conquered it, because Arius was the greatest warrior of his age, and even to this day, his skill as a warrior in combat is unmatched.”

  “Indeed,” said Arius. He lowered the God Slayer. “I do not want to fight you, Alex, but you must earn the God Slayer if you wish to use it against the Dread God. This weapon is not one I wish to be used by unworthy hands. I believe you are worthy of it, but you must defeat me first in order to wield it.”

  Trying his best not to shake in his boots, Beams said, “So what will happen if I fail?”

  “You will die,” said Guide simply. “Like every other challenger who has ever made it this far and failed.”

  Beams gulped again. He looked at Arius. “You’re going to kill me?”

  “It’s nothing personal,” said Arius. “It’s simply what I do to all challengers who fail to defeat me. You knew this going in, so you can’t complain that you did not know.”

  “Yeah, but …” Beams shook his head. “Never mind. You’re right. I was just shocked by this revelation.”

  “I understand,” said Arius. “No one has ever defeated me in combat and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you will be the first.”

  “Or maybe you will die like all of the others,” said Guide with a smirk. “It will be interesting to see what happens.”

  Beams bit his lower lip. He didn’t mind having to fight. What he did mind was having to go toe to toe with his legendarily powerful distant ancestor who also happened to wield the most powerful weapon in the multiverse, a weapon that could even kill gods. That seemed incredibly unfair to Beams, but he knew better than to complain about it. Neither Arius nor Guide seemed the type to take his complaints very seriously.

  And I don’t even want to complain, anyway, Beams thought. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. It’s not like I can turn around and go back. I will have to fight Arius to the death, even if that means my own death. Wish it wasn’t so, but facts are facts and there’s no point in denying them.

  Beams took a deep breath and steadied himself before looking up at Arius again, meeting his ancestor’s hard gaze. “Fine. I accept your challenge, Arius, to fight you in combat for the right to call myself a son of Arius and wield the God Slayer.”

  “I knew you would,” said Arius. He smiled, though it was a rather grim one. “Let us both fight to the very best of our abilities, for this will likely be the most important fight of your life.”

  “Excellent,” said Guide. He stepped back and then disappeared when Beams blinked, but his voice still rang out through the mountainside like a gunshot:

  “Let the third and final challenge of the Gauntlet—the battle between Alexander Fry and Arius for the God Slayer—commence!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Surprisingly, the door to the Fist was not locked. That filled Bolt with hope, because if the Starborn left the door unlocked, then maybe they were willing to help after all. Or at least listen to what they had to say. He just hoped that it wouldn’t turn out that the Starborn had simply forgotten to lock the door when they got here because that would be disappointing.

  The interior of the Fist was nowhere nearly as dark as the outside. This was due to a series of bright torches running along the walls, providing enough light by which Bolt and the others could see. It was a
sharp contrast to the pitch blackness of the Shadowlands, although it was a welcome one because the darkness had been growing heavy on Bolt’s shoulders and he was relieved to be in the light again.

  The torches revealed a massive ancient stone hallway that stretched on seemingly forever before them. The high domed ceiling vanished into the shadows above, while the remains of shattered statues lay scattered across the floor like shells on a beach. It was also oddly cold inside, even colder than outside, and Bolt could not help but shiver when he stepped into the Fist. Aster, Captain Galaxy, and Hypno also shivered, particularly Hypno, who wrapped his arms around himself to keep himself as warm as possible.

  Only the Midnight Menace seemed unaffected by the cold, but he seemed tense nonetheless. His red eyes darted across the massive hallway into which they had emerged as if he expected to see monsters rush out of the darkness at them. Bolt noticed that he hadn’t sheathed his sword yet, either.

  “Amazing,” said Aster. He bent over and picked up a piece of a nearby statue, which seemed to be a nose of some sort. “In all my years in the IEA, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a building quite like this.”

  “It was once a temple to the fallen gods of the Shadowlands,” said the Midnight Menace. He gestured at another statue, which was nothing more than what appeared to be the legs of a bull now, its top half completely missing. “From what I have gathered, these statues represented the dark gods which the people once worshiped. Some even believed that the gods dwelt within the statues, making them into idols, but I have never been able to confirm if that was true or not.”

  “Dark gods …” Captain Galaxy trailed off. “Reminds me of the Dread God. Think there’s any connection?”

  “Doubt it,” said the Midnight Menace. “The gods of the Shadowlands are gone, assuming they ever really existed in the first place. And the Shadowlands are ancient, indescribably so. They were old when the Dread God was young and they will continue to exist long after all of us become distant memories. Even I won’t live as long as the Shadowlands.”