“Good to know.” Lucian slowly lowered his weapon. “I’m a man of my word. The elders who oversee the Congress of Death are the ones who gave me the power to kill angels, along with their blessing. They are planning something that I don’t agree with.”
“Planning something?”
“You may very well be aware that there are members of the upper echelon of both of our Progenies who see eye to eye in a certain way, understanding that it is best to have us at each other’s throats rather than working together. The elders would like to keep this relationship in place for now, only to lead an all-out attack on your kind and with the goal of completely removing the Progeny of Light from the spiritual plane,” Lucian said, the lies spilling out of his lips. “They are meeting in two days, and there will be hundreds of my kind present. Perhaps that is information that would be helpful to you.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I no longer care what happens to either of our sides,” Lucian said with a bitter shrug. “I simply want to be at peace in my own life.”
“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” Hashul asked.
“Why would it be a trap? You gave me information that was likely trusted to you, and I’m giving you information that was trusted to me. Two days from now, at the Congress of Death. They will be finalizing their plans at that point, and it may be the last hope your Progeny has. But first, they plan to execute a Death known as Gaspard for spreading false information.”
Lucian turned away from the angels, summoning his creations.
“Where are you going?” Hashul called after him. “Stop!”
“Away from here.”
And with that, Lucian was gone.
Lucian appeared in front of his workshop, the day darkened all of a sudden, the sun covered by clouds that didn’t normally exist in Old Death’s world.
He turned to his largest creation, Grimzilla already powered on.
The rockets on the giant robot’s heels fired, the towering mecha hovering in the air, the wind swirling all around his feet.
Lucian looked to his six replicants and lifted his hand, curling his fingers as they began to multiply. Twelve, twenty-four, forty-eight, ninety-six.
And so on.
Soon, the sky was filled with replicants, an army of mechas, Lucian now floating in the air as energy rippled through him.
He checked his stats.
They were already starting to top off; he hadn’t spent any Soul Points.
Lucian shook his head, still not yet coming to grips with just how OP he had become. He remembered playing video games in his youth that had ways to overpower a character, or codes he could input that would make his avatar invincible.
He felt that way now as he looked out at the fleet of replicants he had created, and finally to his masterpiece, Grimzilla, whose chest was beginning to open, the cockpit Lucian had created slowly extending out, opening like a clamshell.
“You are bringing them a war,” Hugin said, his spherical creation suddenly floating in front of him.
“I have to,” Lucian told it. “Of all things, I have to do this. I will not let her suffer.”
“You are going to start a war with Heaven over an angel,” said Hugin in a flat tone, even though it was a statement that should have been uttered with gusto.
“Yeah,” Lucian said as he rose higher into the air. “I am.”
He lowered into the cockpit of his enormous mecha, hissing sounds meeting his ears as it sealed itself up, as reticles appeared before him, Lucian’s hands falling upon a slimline video game controller.
“Everyone on me,” he said, his voice amplified by his creation.
Lucian knew that there was a system that his predecessor had shown him that allowed him to teleport anywhere, a system he had subsequently forgotten.
It didn’t matter any longer. Lucian had developed his own way of managing the role, and since he had already been to the location once before, he already knew how to get there.
Releasing the controller for just a moment, he pressed his thumb and pinky finger together, Lucian appearing in Shigatse, the Tibetan city famous for the enormous monastery sitting on a mountain, its shadows extending over the numerous homes that surrounded the religious institution.
There were prayer flags strewn across the mountains, some affixed to piles of rocks, bells ringing on the monastery, the sound of monks beating drums and chanting immediately reaching him. He looked out over the crude white buildings, the stupas situated throughout, some painted with faces on them, others white with golden tips.
Using his controller, Lucian turned to look behind him and saw that all of his replicants were there as well.
He brought up a representation of the controller on the viewing pane in front of him, and then pressed the button in the center of the controller that split the controller into two pieces, which would allow him to control the arms better.
Now with two controllers, the screen before him changed to allow a split view. He pressed the button on the top of the left controller that deployed the shoulder-mounted ballistics weapon that fired injurecrows.
He conjured several walls of the spherical IEDs and watched them fan out, Lucian already seeing the light beaming down from the sky over a mountain in the distance indicating the South Wind’s location.
And even though he felt incredibly powerful, stronger than he had ever felt before, Lucian couldn’t help but notice a tug at his heartstrings, even though he no longer had a heart. The last time he had been in this village had been with Yoshimi, who had led him here, who had always helped him.
In his previous visit to the South Wind, he had saved his predecessor and begrudgingly, at least on her part, united with Danira yet again.
Yoshimi was no longer with him, but she was currently powering Lucian, and would always be part of him through the elixir she’d created.
This thought comforted him as he started to move toward the light, and as he traveled, he remembered what his predecessor had said about Tibetan death rituals.
Maybe when all this was over, it would be something he would finally observe.
If he survived.
While he was trying not to think about dying or being captured, he was bringing a direct assault on the Progeny of Light, one that he would blame on the Congress of Death as soon as he had the opportunity.
He only hoped that Azazyel wouldn’t appear like he did last time.
Lucian had other plans for the fallen angel; right now was the time to focus on saving Danira.
It wasn’t long before groups of angels began to appear in the sky with a variety of weapons, his replicants all moving forward to engage them.
Lucian occasionally fired some of the weapons on his body at the approaching horde, and he had since spawned the energy blade on his giant mecha’s arm; most of this was just to keep them off his tail.
He had one mission, and one mission only, which was to reach the walls of the gateway to Heaven.
As the battle started up, more angels started to gather all around him, explosions happening everywhere on his periphery as his injurecrows met their marks.
Lucian cut into the wall protecting the South Wind and once he had made a big enough slice in it, he kicked the structure down.
It was strange being in the cockpit of his creation, the sounds from outside muffled to some degree, the battle directly in front of him yet also once removed in a way, Lucian protected in a cocoon of magical steel.
He wanted to get closer to the action, especially with what he needed to do next.
Remembering the tunnel that ran beneath the structures, he began firing at the ground, his shots punching through, debris spilling into the holes he made.
Even as angels began attacking his giant form, Lucian kept it up, hoping that he was right, that they had placed Danira in the same place where his predecessor and Leliel had been.
Once the hole was large enough, Lucian signaled that he was ready to go, the cockpit o
pening just as an angel appeared right in front of him and yanked him out of the giant mecha.
Lucian cracked the angel in the face as they spiraled toward the ground, Lucian pulling up just in time, his cape lifting from his body and going to another angel, a female with a sword, the swath of darkened fabric swirling around her and whipping her up into the air.
His shoulder-mounted energy weapon appeared, firing at any target he could find as Lucian continued to overwhelm the angel who had pulled him out of the cockpit, sinking fist after fist into the man’s perfectly sculpted face.
His shotgun forming, Lucian struck the man with the butt of the weapon and then quickly fired a shot at point-blank range.
Click-click, boom.
Another angel came for him and he did the same, click-click, boom, this shot tearing through part of the angel’s neck and a portion of her wings.
Lucian’s scythe materialized in his hands and he flourished it, an arc of energy rippling off the blade that cut through one of the wings of an incoming female angel. She spiraled out of control, careening to the side of Lucian’s Grimzilla, his creation swatting her away.
Lucian heard an explosion overhead.
He looked up to see one of his replicants engaging an angel who held a massive ax, not unlike the one that Leliel wielded.
The explosion came from the fact that the two had collided with an injurecrow between them, causing the angel to drop his ax.
Lucian kicked to the side as he made his way to the hole, feeling savage, like he was winning, that this surprise attack was going to work.
One more glance at the sky above brought a sinister smile to Lucian’s face as he watched his creations battle the Progeny of Light.
It appeared that having his replicants resemble him so closely was to his advantage, Lucian starting to get the feeling that the angels were struggling with who they should engage.
It was clear to him that they should have been concentrating all their firepower on Lucian, but they weren’t. The angels going after any replicant they could, his Grim Mechas responding, Grimzilla filling the air with more spherical IEDs, to the point that pandemonium was starting to blot out what little light the sun gave off.
A female angel with black hair and enormous wings landed in front of Lucian. She raised her sword, her mask peeling back as she spoke to him. “Why have you come here, demon?” she demanded.
“I was sent here,” Lucian told her, “by the Congress of Death.”
She gasped. “So the war…”
Her mask started to reform over her face, hardening.
“The war, and we will decide on it two days from now at the Congress of Death.”
“Why would you tell me that?”
“Because I no longer care.” Lucian rushed her and quickly overpowered the angel, driving the woman to the ground. Holding her down with the staff portion of his scythe, Lucian waited for his shoulder-mounted weapon to swivel, pointing its muzzle interface.
The weapon fired several blasts, ripping through her mask.
Lucian flipped back into the air and shot his feet forward, his cape coming to him as he dipped to the hole in the ground.
From there Lucian moved over to some of the rubble, his scythe vanishing and his plasma blowtorch taking shape in his hands.
He came to a particularly large rock and pulled the handle back on his weapon, blasting it out of his way, the ceiling somehow managing to hold.
From that point, Lucian ran, ignoring the concussive sounds above, well aware that his creations would be able to hold off the faction of angels above.
He was certain that an alarm must have been sounded by this point, that more angels were certainly on their way.
He didn’t care.
The only thing that mattered now was saving Danira before Azazyel inevitably showed up.
Lucian shouldered through a golden door that he didn’t remember being there last time and came into a large chamber, where he found Danira suspended in the middle of the room by chains.
He tore through the first chain with his weapon, the angel swinging forward as he cut through one of the chains affixed to her ankle.
She was the worst he had ever seen her, dirty and bruised, paint smeared on her face, her hair a tangled mess.
Lucian came to her, holding her up as he discarded his weapon and went for his lava sword, which he was able to use to cut through the final two chains, Lucian bringing the angel into his arms.
Breathing heavily now, worried that she was injured beyond the point of recovery, Lucian fumbled to pull the cuffs off her wrists and ankles.
Once he finished, Lucian lifted the angel, speaking to her softly. “I’m here,” he told her again and again, rocking her some. “Danira, I’m here.”
She moaned, unable to open her eyes.
“We have to go,” he said.
Once Lucian made sure there was nothing left on her body that could prevent them from leaving, he pressed his thumb and pinky finger together, vanishing.
Chapter Twenty-Three: For the Hell of It
Danira floated on her back in the air before Lucian’s workshop, Lucian pacing before her.
She still hadn’t spoken, the angel barely breathing as Lucian tried to settle his nerves.
He was still seething from the animosity he’d felt in seeing how they treated her, her own kind, one that was actually devoted to the cause.
Then there was the feeling inside him associated with what he had just witnessed, the battle, Lucian stronger than he had ever been before, a sense of pride moving through him that he didn’t want to give too much strength to, yet one that he couldn’t deny.
He checked his stats and saw that there’d been no change:
Oddly enough, even though he was completely topped off, he still felt haggard. As his armor melted away, Lucian experienced even more ennui, his shoulders sagging forward almost immediately, his breaths short.
Naturally, he placed his hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat even though he knew this wasn’t really an indication of anything in his current form.
But old habits die hard, and the gesture that Lucian had made countless times after receiving his diagnosis while he was alive was something he still did regularly.
Only now, placing his hand on his chest simply reminded him that he wasn’t alive, that he truly was the Grim Reaper.
“What should we do?” Hugin asked, Lucian’s crow floating before him.
He had already told his replicants to fan out, to press away so they weren’t blotting out the light. Most of them landed in the forest near his workshop, his largest creation in its normal space to the left of the lake.
“She’s still not responding…”
Lucian remembered what Gaspard had said, and what he had felt numerous times now. They were all the same. The Progenies of Light and Darkness went about things differently, and the energy they fed on was interpreted in different ways, but they were the same. They existed on the same plane of existence; they did the same thing.
With this in mind, Lucian went for his bottomless bottle of Soul Point potion, which he gripped tightly as he approached Danira.
He placed his hand behind her head and slowly tilted it up, bringing the mouth of the bottle to her lips. Lucian slowly poured some of the liquid into her mouth, and almost instantly he noticed the reaction, her body stiffening.
Lucian let up for a moment to make sure she was okay; once he was sure that she was fine, he continued to give her more of the elixir.
Soon, Danira’s eyes opened, the woman gasping as he stepped away.
She lowered to the ground on her own, immediately falling to her knees, Lucian coming to her.
“Lucian?” she asked.
“Drink this,” he told her, bringing the bottle to her lips again.
She started to press it away but he insisted, the angel finally accepting the elixir and drinking more of it.
It wasn’t long before she was completely rejuvenated, her skin
clean, everything about her white gold outfit repaired, even the paint that she smeared across her face fixed.
“You…” Danira turned to Lucian and threw her arms around his shoulder, hugging him, Lucian nearly stumbling backward.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Lucian said, his robes disappearing. He was now in the clothing that he had once worn on their little date, the maroon T-shirt and blue jeans, not feeling like looking like Death any longer.
Seeing that he had changed, Danira did the same, now in a flowing white dress. They held each other’s hands now, Danira’s throat suddenly quivering as she spoke. “It was Hashul. He exaggerated our relationship…” She shook her head. “No, he didn’t exaggerate it. It was true. But he made things worse.”
“Our relationship?” Lucian asked, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat.
She nodded. “I know what you did to those angels, and I was mad at you, but I was going to eventually come around…” She bit her lip. “This is a terrible time to make a confession, but I under–”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Lucian told her.
“I understand your frustration, especially being attacked randomly. You are still new at this; you don’t understand your power yet, and I’m sure you didn’t mean it.”
“I didn’t mean to do it, but I was enraged at the time. It’s no excuse. Even if I did…” Lucian shook his head now, not knowing how to respond to her. “I just didn’t want to lose you, and then Hashul attacked me and told me what they’d done to you. I had to come for you. You must’ve known that I would come for you. There’s nothing in this world, or Heaven and Hell for that matter, that would keep me from coming to your aid. And…”
“What did you give me?”
“The potion that Yoshimi made. I worked on it a little,” Lucian said. Still holding both of her hands, he told her what happened to Yoshimi, and how he had figured out this way to create an infinite amount of the potion that refilled his energy, how he had pumped it through his armor so it constantly kept him powered.
Death's Mantle 3 Page 20
