by Marc Mulero
Like light running from a black hole, the blast of plasma curved around his barrier. Cryos was withstanding what was meant to incinerate the masses. He was a dark angel overcoming the light. A savior.
The soldier got up from his seat to jam down the levers and produce more power. He had to make sure the messenger was dead - this was the Hiezers’ domain.
Sloop.
The flare disintegrated in an instant as the Hiezer let go of his grip. He was spent, proud of himself, allowing a brief moment to fall back into his seat in triumph. But there was a problem - as the dust cleared, Halewyn was still one piece. He was unafflicted, with blazing eyes locked on to judge the cannon’s wielder.
Fearful of extinction a second ago, the rebellion looked on with wide eyes and open mouths. How could that have just happened? Could it be that there was a god on their side too? Such a feat morphed panic into fuel. Fuel into fire. They cheered for their savior and roared as they shot back.
Halewyn, however, kept eyes firm on the Hiezer as everything around him grew loud, watching him grunt in frustration of his failure, knowing of what would come next. The soldier wanted to redeem himself. And as the mobile chair shifted direction to the frontlines, Halewyn signaled everyone toward the gates so he could burst backward into a sprint, following the trajectory of the plasmatic cannon.
“Release me!” Dendrid’s voice sounded almost demonic as Halewyn rushed past.
He ignored the madman, of course. The one chasing at his heels had already served his purpose – alert the Hiezers to the dawn of their own extinction. Now Dendrid was only there to watch, to beg.
There were more important matters at hand. As the weapon’s base ignited once more, Halewyn jumped and spun into the air like a flag in the wind, chasing the point of contact. He thrusted his arm toward the floor, culminating a pulse that rippled from his shoulder, through his arm, and finally exploding a wave of energy into the ground.
The force sent Sin fighters flying clear from harm’s way, leaving Halewyn to land alone in a clean circumference as the next flare approached. He laid his sword down his shoulder to block the entirety of his upper body and braced.
Vloom.
The next plasmatic spear disintegrated two Sins in its path before it was stopped by the Eldest’s might. His hands gripped tighter around his hilt to hold himself in place, to grow his connection to Cryos and fight. He dashed so quickly to follow the beam that he was a black blur acting as a mirror. The light became more intense. He wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer. So, with one loosed hand, the Neraphis extended a whip of Cryos outward, sending Sins peddling backward against their will. Fractions of a second separated safety from incineration. But he persevered, protecting until the cannon finally overheated, until the flare dissipated again in defeat.
“Release me!” Dendrid’s veins bulged from his neck. A lifetime of indifference caught up to him. “I understand, you prick. It was my mother’s choice! She took the risks that steered her to madness. I see it now. I’ve already killed my betrayer. I burned her when I was a child. Now, since you’ve robbed me of my purpose, let me die on my terms. Release me!”
Halewyn looked over to the son of the Exdian, then back to the cannon that readied to fire again. He reached for the orb within his cloak and rubbed it with a thumb. “Valor, the cannon. Center of the gates, now.”
“I’ve been climbing for three minutes!” a voice from within the orb shouted back.
Then the massive weapon swung to the other side of the rushing rebellion, far out of Halewyn’s reach, far from safety.
It was out of his hands now.
Helplessness kept him still, gawking, useless. “Where are you, warrior?”
The Hiezer reached again for the lever.
If that flare was released, tens of thousands of lives would be wiped in seconds. All of the momentum Halewyn had just gained would fall flat.
The trigger was gripped, and again molten energy ignited through alloy casing.
“No…” he whispered.
Valor rose from behind the cannon at the last second, twirling high into the air, propelled by his Cryos-empowered legs. He soared, reaching a height above the seated operator. Then he stalled in mid-air, at the peak of his leap, arms extended high overhead, glowing spear angled to kill.
And with one swift motion, Valor dipped his lance through the opening in his cover, deep into the back of his neck. And just like the light in the Hiezer’s eyes, the cannon’s bright barrel dulled into darkness, molten energy funneling back down its tube, engine lulling to a purr.
He did it. The Neraphis warrior did it. And now the Sins were clear to advance.
Halewyn breathed a sigh of relief.
“Release me, shadow,” Dendrid begged.
Halewyn judged his prisoner. “You murdered two from the Society, two of my brothers. Now you will pay so long as I have life in me.” He stepped closer to him. “Hm. Not fully mad, are you? That is worse, Dendrid, or Savet, whichever you choose to call yourself. It means you are not devoid of responsibility.”
Dendrid protested, leaning close. He was eye level with the Eldest when he said, “Let me pay, in there.” He pointed with a long finger. “Let me die for the Sins, killing my true captors, the Hiezers. The shadows can live or rot, I no longer care. Let me do what I do best,” his voice grew menacing.
For a moment, Halewyn considered it, and then turned away. “I cannot trust an Exdian bond.”
“Am I one to lie? Do you take me for a politician?” Dendrid’s cackle carried. “No, shadow. My spine is intact.” His voice quieted, staring at Halewyn with his wrists raised.
The Eldest stalled, letting the chaos of charging fighters around him sink in. He supposed they could use a killer like this one. Would it be spiteful to deny the rebellion such an asset?
He lifted his hood over his face, turned his back to Dendrid and raised his hand. Fingers snapped, and just like that, a spark of blue burst the madman’s shackles into oblivion.
He was free. Dendrid was free.
His laugh was deep and threatening, a psychopath’s thrill was all over his face before he darted into the fray, to take Hiezer life.
The gates were closing in… closer… closer, to where Drino hauled his arsenal at the forefront – sprinting with two shield-men blocking bullets for their charge into the Grand City.
How could Dendrid pass up the head of the party? He couldn’t.
He caught up with the rebellion forces approaching the line of black and gold armor waiting behind tall shields. Now the forefront of Sin defense was led by their fiercest soldier and harshest ex-prisoner. The Hiezers just didn’t know it yet.
“Break!” Drino roared.
The shields parted and a strong boot kicked down the first of the Hiezer blockade. Minigun sparks flew as the gun reeled again, laying waste to his enemies behind the line. “Break their ranks!” He got in his last shout before bullets answered back, a lot of them, puncturing Drino’s Kevlar. Thump. Thump thump thump. Thump. He roared past the pain, tensing his neck so it looked like his veins were snakes crawling within it, stomping forward against all logic.
“Go!” his hoarse voice demanded. “Go!” he shouted again while dropping to one knee. He ripped off his armor to see welts cover his flesh, finding more strength in his defiance. His mark blazed. Adrenaline unmatched, but for the Mentis who just dove past him, slicing a zagged path through the elites with Sin blades.
A smirk crept up Drino’s face at the sight. He rose. He screamed. He commanded. Into Nepsys the world went.
A massive enclosure wrapped shut behind Blague, trapping him on Mulderan’s bridge of despair. The voice of his father and the essence of his old friend disappeared with the wind around him, leaving Blague and Elaina to face their enemy alone.
“Raise our guard, Elaina,” Blague snarled in his thoughts, hardly able to contain the hate he felt toward his brother. “We’re tanking this piece of shit.”
One step forward caused an echo that multiplied a
hundred times, and then the next made him feel like he crossed into another dimension. What had Mulderan done to this cave? Was the very air plagued with Rol?
The humid wind became alive with torment… screams, screeches, horrors in the form of elongated faces. Nothing unknown at this point, just a living nightmare is all. The noise reverberated through his bones like a gigantic bass speaker on full blast.
It was a warning: turn back now, unless you prefer a gruesome death.
But beyond the distractions, beyond the haze, and in between the strip of stone separating them, two sets of eyes found each other.
Mulderan appeared different, fulfilled in his expression, finding a sense of pride in his tomb of limitless power. Of course. It made sense. He could influence his army without lifting a finger, dole out his order just by thinking it… all in the realm of his mind. Of course it was cause for justified superiority, and beyond that, satisfaction.
Waves of heat rose from the natural cauldron chained beneath him, cascading around the bridge. Rol recycled through his body, its momentum whipping his cape and clinking his massive pauldrons with its tangible quintessence.
Something terrible had just occurred beyond these walls, Blague could feel it.
“What have you done?” Malice raked through his voice.
“Dear brother,” Mulderan said, staring into his open palm. “You brought this war upon yourself. I’ve simply drawn first blood.”
Blague slowly drew his arm back, fingertips grazing the hilt of his hanging blade. There would be no room for failure this time… one of these two would lose their head. And with that, his Sin mark was set ablaze in a fiery fury, commencing a long overdue stand-off between kin.
The Cryos steam slipped down his skin, quietly wrapping itself around the carbon steel to imbue it, just as the Neraphis had taught him.
Mulderan wasn’t about to sit back and let his brother channel energy, and so he whipped forth his arm without warning, like he was hurling a spear, an invisible one. But half way through three ornate spikes materialized from thin air, entering existence at the speed of a loosed arrow, all headed straight for his brother.
Blague side-stepped the two javelins.
Woosh.
Both flung past, rupturing the stone wall behind him. The manifestations were real. Mulderan could control the smoke in the same way the Aura could. Terrifying. Dangerous.
Clink. The third spear was met by Blague’s enchanted Blade and tossed away with a blinding flash of clashing chemicals.
The spear dissolved in an instant, but he pushed past the distractions and focused forward once more… on him.
Wrath became the Sin Leader. His vision tunneled. This madness had to end, once and for all.
Finding sheer amusement in his brother’s rage, Mulderan fluently swung his arms upward, one at a time. He walked forward with each swipe, digging up waves of screaming plasma that clawed toward the Sin.
A rush of energy galloped head on, sparking with plasma. One touch and the duel would be short-lived for sure. But Blague pivoted – a near miss – and then hopped the next. Red everywhere, curving like waves, shaving his boot on the back end of his jump. He leapt again, sidestepped, and twisted in protest of the oncoming onslaught. And when he was about to be overwhelmed, he swung himself nearly off the bridge to avoid the next gliding projectile that was the width of the entire walkway.
Only one foot was still on the corner of the bridge, with the lot of his weight airborne, tipping over. “Shit,” he panicked, peering down into the endless pit of molten plasma deep below. It was as if time slowed, his heart fluttering, his stomach rolling at the thought of plunging into those kinds of depths.
“Elaina!” he shouted internally.
She was already at work, willing Cryos out from Blague’s body so he could use it as a springboard to push off of. It worked. He crashed off of it and propelled himself back onto two feet. Time sped back up.
His breath was rampant, desperate. Blague knew that he was outmatched in strength, that Rol’s endless chaos was too great for the stableness of Cryos, but guiding words echoed tirelessly in his mind.
“Although the Ardians are the most unstable, they also possess the utmost power,” a shadow of Halewyn’s voice proclaimed.
The Sin evaded every obstacle that came his way, finding his brother’s mocking smirk lurking closer into his field of vision. And when he was one leap away from striking distance, Blague twirled his blade in hand and brought down his weapon, descending the Cryos lit edge to slice open Mulderan’s face. But the Highest Lord could read his sibling like a book, sinuously drawing his stave and igniting it with Rol’s glow. The enchanted metals clashed.
“You thought Ayelan would just bend to your will?” Blague questioned, pushing the blade down with the weight of both his arms. “You’ve married the DNA of enemies into each of your elites. The conflicting blood of two souls, in one body. You’ve poisoned them all!”
Mulderan overpowered Blague’s defense and drove him back. Each swing of the shrieking stave that followed was faster than the Sin could defend. Two strikes were met with metal before he suffered the third in his ribs. Besides the brunt of the jab, a dose of plasma flowed outward like a smoke bomb to sear his skin, making him hallucinate immediately. All he could do was dash back and shake off the blow.
“What philosophical nonsense has your precious magicians drilled into your skull?” Mulderan scoffed. “You are a Grenich.” He threw his stave into an uppercut, catching Blague in the chin and knocking him airborne. “How could you succumb to such misdirection?”
Blague rolled onto his knees, again shaking his head to keep Rol’s demons out. “Think, Mulderan, think of the highlords’ children. Not one of them is right. An undeveloped primary cannot bear the weight of an enemy secondary. The scorned consciousness will always be there.”
As straight as a steel beam, Mulderan leveled the unstable plasma staff held across his chest as he stood triumphantly over his brother. “Continue to speak in jargon and riddles and I will grow tired of your life sooner,” he threatened.
Blague got to his feet at his brother’s mercy. “Exdians,” he spit up blood, “are the product of enemy Ayelan connections. Dendrid was the first offspring of an Exdian bond. He is mad, Mulderan, just as your following generations will be.” He brought his fists in front of his face, one clenched tightly around his weapon.
Mulderan’s eyebrows rose, and then he cocked his head. “My brother, the Hitler of this New World? You have a mind to eradicate an entire people?” His rare laugh started slowly, echoing deep in the open arena. “The Ripper did us well, didn’t she, Blague?”
The Highest Lord glided forward, shocking his opponent with his speed. He jabbed the haunted staff into the Sin’s gut, making his world become a blackened fog of nightmares for a long second. “You would make such an extreme determination with just a handful of subjects? Where’s the scientist in you?” he asked, backhanding him across the face. “Where is the Hiezer in you?” his voice deepened.
“Argh,” Blague wiped blood from his mouth, “You… confuse my sentiment with your own, you piece of shit. I will never stand for genocide of any kind. Never.” He rose with purpose in his eyes. “Their hardship will be legendary. Their extended lives will be spent learning patience and compassion for their troubled sons and daughters, all because of your false promises and their own greed.”
The brothers lunged at each other once more, clashing and driving one another back.
“Even if your claims have any truth, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve fostered the most capable that this world has to offer. That is why they were rewarded with extended lives. They will adapt, as I have.” Mulderan lifted his chin.
Blague found his center of strength, rising from his core with Elaina’s stillness to balance him. “You’re blind to your faults, and deaf to your failures,” he said, his wild slashes guided with his partner’s precision.
Flashes of white overcame their vision with eve
ry clang of imbued steel, hardened strikes booming, air waves like an explosion smacking their hair back. Down rained the Cryos-marked blade - once, twice, almost a third time before Mulderan sidestepped, grabbed Blague’s collar, and spun him so that their positions were reversed.
“No…” Blague felt a rush of dark energy flow through him, looking down to either side to see that he himself was now right over the cauldron.
“You know, Blague, since we are in a sharing mood, there was something I’ve always wanted to say, but just couldn’t find the time.” Mulderan’s brow relaxed as he twirled the stave in front of his face. Each time it passed, his appearance alternated between a veiny, exaggerated version of himself and his usual porcelain features. His eyes became inverted – the whites turning to hazel, and the hazel to red – hair dipped in crimson ichor, dripping with glossy blood. This was a séance, a dangerous summoning of the devil, right here, right now.
Blague found it hard to concentrate on his words as he watched Rol gift his brother an identity similar to Jason’s, similar to Jen’s, similar to his father’s. Why was this happening? Why would it pick him?
“Our father may have created this beautiful hierarchy, but it was all a side effect of my conception. It was my vision, my hand that made the world that you live in. It was I who dawned the Quakes,” Mulderan revealed, his eyes glimmering with pride.
Blague’s mesmerized stare faded when he heard the words. His eyes widened with disbelief. “How could that be…?”
“When have you ever known me to lie?” He spread his arms wide, searing ablaze in his new form. His cloak had thin veins riding up and down it, and his arms were wrapped with red strands. His face was more stoic, chiseled with a vampire’s aesthetic. “Look around you, where do you think this lift leads?”
Blague turned back, now understanding the catalyst behind Eldra’s betrayal.
“I’ve been hurling nukes into the earth’s core for years. It has been a long journey, weeding out the weak.” Mulderan sighed as if tired from all of his hard work.
Blague’s eyes found the floor. He thought back to the experience of the first Quake. The fall of buildings, the maddened flails of civilians, the desperate cries… all of it was on account of Mulderan. The entire world’s suffering caused by his madness.
