Chapter 149: Curtain Call.

The whole fight, he’d been eyeing me. Cautious of me. He could sense, in some way, that I was the center of the storm. Like a loaded gun sitting at the center of the table during a fancy dinner.

He wasn’t wrong, though, he wasn’t quite right either. If anything, I was a mediocre director taking credit for what was likely the mascot’s work. The pieces fit together too well, and in much the same way, it was easy to parse out what they wanted. Or rather, what their aim was.

And all I managed to do, was co-opt it. If only a little. Even then, for the whole fight, my purpose up to this point had been to stand about and direct the pieces. To give nudges and final adjustments so that it would work out.

In essence, this was the culmination of everything I’ve learned since coming here. A blossoming of talent. My own magic worked, along with the enhanced senses my uniform gave me. Senses that were sharpening by the second. Which is why, in this moment, I knew it in my bones. Now was the moment to move.

For the first time in the whole fight, he’d made a fatal mistake. He’d looked away. He’d stopped paying me heed as he was beset on by the shadows and the others.

The very moment the others were beat back once more, I surged forward, rifle held up. In a breath, a single beat of the heart I loosed every round in my gun. They hissed and cracked upon impact with the Ancestor as he hastily moved to block. An explosion of hazy rime quickly filled the air, dulling his senses, clouding his judgement. All the while sharpening my own.

In the next breath I had already closed the distance, my bayonet surging forward. He moved, but a beat late. Still reeling from having his senses dulled, his body covered in frost. Yet, it was just enough to avoid having my bayonet thrust into his skull. With a twist of his body, the edge of my silver bayonet carved along his face, leaving a thin, bloodless wound.

The bayonet did not cry nor keen for his blood. After all, he was no monster, even if he acted like one. No, he was just a man. After the initial strike, I followed through. A series of rapid thrusts and slashes each empowered slightly by the surrounding rime that lessened with each blow, each leaving small wounds as the man struggled to adjust.

Even then, no real damage was done. Years, decades, perhaps even centuries of experience kept him from taking any serious injuries. Hell, the only reason I injured him was because of one little fact.

He could not move. Rather, whatever process he was undergoing, tempering his energy, Qi, or whatever, it required him to stay in that exact spot. Something I’d noticed over the course of the fight. He had some leeway, a little bit of room to move, but not nearly enough when pressured.

Adding to his troubles, was how he could only bring so much force to bear. If he used too much of his energy, the delicate process he was undergoing would fail, catastrophically I imagine.

That he could even beat us back, that he could even hold his ground under such crippling conditions was a testament to his skill. And his greed. He didn’t think much of us. However, as the others debuted, as they gained their uniforms, his lack of concern gave way to understanding.

An understanding that he couldn’t keep playing around like this.

Which… is exactly when I stepped in.

There was no way I’d ever beat him in a fair fight. A combination of smoke bullets, a sudden blistering assault seemingly out of nowhere, that and all the other factors on my side. Even with all that, there was no way I’d ever be able to kill him.

However… even if I couldn’t kill him with my own two hands… Leading him to his death wasn’t impossible. For even if I lacked martial talent, I had a whole other talent. A talent that I was only beginning to fully understand.

After all, this was just another dance. A play orchestrated by the mascots. And I, was just another actor who was under the spotlight.

All too quickly my assault came to an end. A burst of energy dispersed the smoke, a hand whapped right into my rifle, jolting it from my grip. His body shifted, a fist came hurtling right for my face.

With a grin, I shouted out. Though, it wasn’t necessary, it added to the moment.

“NOW!” And out of the rapidly dispersing cloud of rime, they came from all sides. A single, unified attack. Raksha, Diana, Morrigan, and Ruth.

His eyes widened. Pupils became pinpricks. In his eyes, I could see him processing everything. His teeth grit. His mind churning at untold speeds.

The time was now. Would he double down? Would he fold? Would he call?

In the frozen world, I saw his eyes refocus, right onto me. A flicker of something, a gleam of madness. Of greed. Of unchecked pride being challenged. Of a cornered beast.

With an exhale, his body tensed. Muscles went taut, his foot stamped into the ground, his already prepped fist creaked and cracked. With a loud snap, his fist punched forward, breaking through the sound barrier. The very air pushed against the force of the blow.

His choice? To double down. To call my bluff, no, to shatter it completely.

There was no doubt in my mind. That single punch would kill me. Shatter me into a million pieces. Even my uniform could never dare to even absorb all that energy, at least, not without a bit of help.

It was a feeling. Not quite an instinct, but rather an idea that came into being the more I used my uniform. An idea that came about as I kept finding myself getting injured and hurt. An idea that just wouldn’t leave my skull, despite how suicidal it was.

I focused on my uniform. On that function that took and redistributed damage. It took a thought, no, barely a thought, merely a notion to shift priorities. To harden it, to make it brittle, and yet, so much stronger.

Not that it was noticeable. To everyone else, it looked like I was facing death head on and… perhaps I was. I could feel it pressing in. If I was wrong, I’d die, but… I was a bit of a gambler, or so it seemed.

As the fist came over, I feel everyone’s magic spike with anxiety, fear, concern, and dawning rage. That, and the song Diva was singing, her voice cracking with worry, fear, horror.

Even with the ice dulling everything. Muting emotion, fear, hesitation… Something inside me quivered as the fist hurtled forward. As it came closer, as it passed the point of return.

His eyes were alight with grim determination. In his eyes, were my own eyes. Staring forward, looking him head on even as death came. Like a pair of clear pools, whose depths could not be discerned.

He looked, he saw, and… there was a flicker in his countenance. A twitch, an iota of hesitation.

Which is when the fist hit. It came in hard, the world went white. The sound of shattering glass was loud, like a gunshot by my ears. My feet cracked into the ground, all over my body, ice cracked and shattered.

At the same moment, I heard it. A cry, a scream.

“PRIMA!” Diva… her voice cut through it all. Through the fog, through the shock. And with that alone, everything came into focus. The fist before me, the wide eyes of the man before me, the motes of crystal, breaking into a flurry of snow.

At the same time, the world broke into pieces. No longer was I standing before a nascent god. Now, I was standing inside a concert hall. Bleached black, with a sole spotlight shining down on a lone figure, Diva, encased in glass. A world of silence, without a single color beyond white and black.

There was nothing for the longest time. Then came the hum. A low hum that rapidly gained in pitch. The glass surrounding the girl began to shudder and whine. The very stadium, the whole world seemed to shudder as the pitch grew. The glass began to rattle, crack. Little by little. Until finally, the notes peaked, the glass shattered.

The world came alive with lights and color. The shattered glass flew about, turning into motes of stardust that swirled and gathered around the girl, rapidly forming into her uniform.

And like that, Diva had her debut.

Was this part of the plan? No, not really, but… it was a nice side-benefit.

The moment we were back, her voice cut through creation. Burrowed into my body and soul. Empowering me and the others. With a stamp, my foot cracked into the ground. The residual energy from the Ancestor’s blow crackling in my bones. And my uniform, the outer layer shattered, leaving me in a high collared leotard, now wholly focused on one thing.

Smashing his face in.

Without any energy going into shielding, or protecting me, meant more for kicking ass. Powered further by Diva’s empowerment. My fist came rocking forward, carrying the anything but quiet hum of her cry.

The Ancestor was anything but a novice. He tried to move, to avoid, to shift his body as I came forward. Mitigating the damage but he could only do so much. My timing was impeccable, he’d fallen right into my trap. And now, the pot was mine.

My fist rocked into his face, square on his nose. The force broke cartilage, blood sprayed from his face, Diva’s magic reverberated, sending a pulsing echo into his skull, rattling his brain.

The others came next, carving, cutting, ripping, and hacking into his body. Leaving bloody gashes and horrific wounds.

He’d doubled down, only to bust.

This…

I blink. His energy surges. I hadn’t realized he’d braced himself, arms at his side. All at once, his arms shot out, sending a blast of air that punched into those around him. Before they could even be pushed back, his body moved, fists punched into each of them, sending them hurtling into the far ends of the vault.

His eyes, like the sun settled on me. His body heaved and smoked. He felt unstable, his energy cracking and spitting. His body felt ready to explode. He towered over me. His intent clear. Murder in his eyes.

My mouth was dry. My mind stuttered at the second wind. I ran through my options… My body was unable to move. Held in place by his gaze and presence. Without my uniform protecting me, I felt the full brunt of his existence smashing into my mind. Threatening to break me.

Even then… my mouth moved. A word, a name on my lips, sent out in the world. Not as a command, not as an expectation, but more as a prayer. An entreaty, a wish. As feeble as it may be.

“LICHE!”

And as if my words were the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back… I felt the world shift. A flicker. A shudder. The sound of running water. The banging of a door.

A dingy bathroom. A dirty mirror. A mirror I was looking through into a woman’s face, Liche’s face. She looked scared. Worried. Her eyes darting to the shaking door. She was hunched over a sink, whose faucet was running. The sound of it, the banging, the distant shouts and screams, and the constant buzzing and crackling of the lone light above painted a dim picture.

Her head bowed, a splash of water, and she looked back at us. Something in her gaze she lacked before. Purpose, no, direction. Without a second glance behind her, she turned for the door and marched forward. Without a care, without any subtlety, she kicked it down.

We followed just behind, stepping out of the mirror. As her shadows, as something more. Right into the endless, yawning abyss the door led too. The darkness grasped, reached and pulled. Ripping and pulling away at Liche, until nothing was left.

Her destination, a single light in the endless dark.

The moment she reached the light, her uniform came into being, inked in black and white. Pressing, beating thumping. With every breath, the light took on a new hue, bathing the world in a new color, and yet with each change, that color would stick. Splashing her with colors, mixing, melding, until she came into being in her uniform and all.

The world came back into focus. Yet something felt wrong. Like something fundamental was missing.

The man, he immediately realized that too. Every single instinct screamed that something was wrong, and his attention swiftly turned. Inexorably turning towards the source of the wrongness.

For some reason, I felt like, I couldn’t allow that. That if he looked back, if he witnessed it, that we’d all die here and now. So, with all I had, I let out a shout, and sent out another punch.

I felt a flicker of his attention. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep it on me. Like trying to stop the moon in the sky. Even just attempting to hold him in place had my soul screaming in agony. As his attention inevitably drifted, as my soul’s fingers dug in, and failing to amount to anything even as they were ripped out of the joints, or the flesh stripped from bone…

Then another surge of energy. Another debut? No…

Morrigan, standing just within my peripheral vision was doing something. Her eyes shut, as magic swirled. Enough to make the man falter. Enough, that for the first time, I realized over the sound of roaring water in my ears, that the vault was filled with crows. Countless crows that swirled and moved above us like a living vortex of feathers. All of their gazes focused as one on the man before me.

And at the same moment, Morrigan’s eyes snapped open. A single finger pointed forward at the man. Her lips moved, words, but not words, but more like an edict. A law that must be made real left her lips.

“DIE.”

In the blink of an eye, it hit. A sudden horror, an existential terror that caused my soul to quake and huddle in fear. Yet… with the barrier of ice separating us, like a window to beyond, I saw. Death. Death itself clad in black robes surging forward. Not with a scythe, no, but with a bloody axe in hand.

As it closed, I saw under the hood, Morrigan, her eyes shifted over, and I felt the ice crackle, and… she gave me a wink, before swinging at the man.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t, not with how fast she had acted and moved. The axe struck him head on… only… he didn’t die. The phantom of the reaper merely shattered into a million pieces. Blood gushed from Morrigan’s face and fell to her knees, her uniform rapidly dissipating. And the countless crows above, all exploded into black feathers that burned away with ghostly flames into naught but ash, and then, nothing more as they sprinkled below.

Even if it didn’t kill the man… it did something else. It made an opening, a single crack I could dig my fingers in. So, even as every instinct screamed otherwise, I yelled out, and wrenched his attention from what lay behind me.

His neck turned. His eyes burned right into me with the full force of his being. Shattered the ice, split the sea, and immediately beheld what lay beneath. Like the sun itself had descended just to witness what was below.

I felt my soul, my entire existence shrivel, burn, and begin to expire. Smote into nothing but dust, when…

The light flickered.

A hand, covered in nothing, ripped through his chest. He blinked. Confusion took precedence over all else. Wobbling, unsure, I took a few steps back, away from the sun. Trying to process what had just happened, where we were… And as the ice slowly came back, covering old wounds, I just barely had a handle over the situation.

Liche was standing behind the man. Her arm thrust through his chest, having literally erased his heart. She looked almost bored and yet, I could see in those empty eyes, something else, confusion, uncertainty, as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

And honestly, I wasn’t too sure either. Trying to piece together thoughts was hard. The ice made it easier by that moment, but really, it was a stopgap. I felt like something inside me had been severely injured. It was nothing like when I’d damaged my rifle, it felt wrong on an almost fundamental level.

Yet, surely it’s over? Right? Surely this is it? Without a heart, what else could he do?

And of course, he had to prove me wrong.

There was a thump. Like that of a heartbeat. Followed by another, and another. The area around where Liche’s arm began to hiss and sizzle. A grunt left her lips as she tried to pull away and out of the man’s chest. He reached for the arm, his hands clamping down on the physical nothing, only to fail as she slipped right on through. Simply erasing the palms of his hands in the process.

He seemed unbothered by that, as blood gushed from his hands, as blood spurt from his open chest. Rather, he seemed focused on something else as the energy surged and condensed, the whole in his chest rapidly closed. Wounds hissed and closed.

Until finally he stood before us, unharmed, uninjured, and… clearly having solidified his base…

Only… it seemed like… No, it was… He was leaking energy like an open wound. Gushing it out into the world.

“Do… you realize what you’ve done? Centuries of work, undone, by children!” He shouts. His eyes blood shot.

And once again, his energy surged, but… there was a key issue. The man, was no longer being held back.

Of course, that’s when Ruth came charging in.