Aetheral Space-Chapter 452:15.6: Downfalls

The plan had been simple.

First, the heavy hitters would fence the Weapon in and immobilize it.

Then, Morgan would bring Annatrice out from underground -- and she would use Der Freischutz on the trapped enemy.

Finally, if the Weapon somehow managed to survive that, their melee fighters would jump out of their hiding spots to finish it off.

That plan had been cut short with a single bang. The sound of the gunshot crawled through the tunnels. Alcera Nox and Serena del Sed heard it from their separate positions at the same time -- but only one of them was familiar with this place. So, while Alcera hesitated for a moment, not knowing which direction to head in…

…Serena rushed ahead, a blade of stone in her hand.

Where the hell was that little brat?!

A sliver of panic the Widow had thought long-vanquished trickled through her mind as the Weapon began to fight back. In an instant, it had dug its fingers into the massive icicle pressing against its body, tearing it clean in half -- and in that same instant, it launched itself towards the Widow with lethal intent. If Set’s predictions about this thing were accurate, she was half-a-second away from death.

Still… that also meant she had half-a-second with which to save her life.

The Widow raised her hands high, conjuring up a barrier of even colder air all around herself. As of this moment, no natural life could survive in the three-meter area around her body. Even Aether infusion could only provide so much protection -- at the very least, it would slow the Weapon down enough that the Widow could react to its attack.

But it didn’t take the bait.

The bright light of movement stopped right before the Widow’s protective field and the Weapon shot itself up into the air, leaving a straight line of sparks in its wake. Coming to a halt high above, the Weapon pulled its arm back -- and a lightning bolt exploded into life in its hand. Ready to be thrown, like something out of myth.

It never got the chance.

Wolfram -- suddenly the size of a skyscraper -- seized the Weapon between his hands and squeezed with all his strength, white Aether flicking between his intertwining fingers. It was obvious from the first moment that he wouldn’t be able to crush it, though. Already, the Widow could see red-hot light bleeding out from between Wolfram’s hands. With the amount of heat this thing was capable of producing, the Widow had no doubt that the Weapon would be able to burn an escape route right through Wolfram’s hands in mere moments.

Of course, Wolfram knew that too. Even as his face was contorted in agony, he lifted one leg as if he were about to pitch a farball…

…and hurled the Weapon straight through three buildings.

The young man with the braid stepped forward, returning his pistol to its holster and plucking a thin dagger from his belt instead. He held it between two fingers, poking the hilt and the very tip of the blade in a delicate balancing act. The whole time, that cheerful smile didn’t leave his face.

"Who the hell…" Morgan grunted, still clutching his wound. "...are you?"

"Oh my god," the man gasped, aghast. "Did I not introduce myself? That’s awful. I’m really sorry. I actually can’t believe I did that. I mean, I wasn’t myself at the time, but still."

"Answer the question," Morgan growled.

"You know," the enemy giggled, pointing towards Morgan’s wound with the knife. "I wouldn’t strain myself too much right now. I’ve read your file, so I know you’ve got some kinda healing ability -- but with the bullet still lodged in your body, there’s only so much you can do, right? There’s some cheeky poison on that, too, by the way. That’s not an Aether ability or anything, but it’s still a bad time for you, you know? Oh, and my name’s Tybalt del Sed!"

Morgan’s other knee collapsed to the floor as well. Indeed, his skin had started to take on a strange purple sheen, as whatever venom had been coating that bullet entered his system. He coughed -- a dry and ragged sound that promised nothing good.

Tybalt’s eyes flicked away from Morgan back to his apparent quarry -- back to Annatrice del Sed. The girl was standing in the middle of the cave, frozen, her eyes as wide as saucers. Like a deer in the headlights.

"You’re a quiet one, huh?" Tybalt laughed, carefree. "Or maybe you don’t like knives? Or violence in general? I can’t blame you for that, but you know? It’s a violent world we live in. Your whole life is basically exposure therapy for violence, when you think about it that way. Don’t you think so?"

"I-I…" Annatrice stammered.

"Y-You…" Morgan grumbled, falling to the ground entirely, face pressed against the stone.

Something was wrong. Even with this injury, even with this pain… Morgan knew he should be fighting back. He’d pushed through pain before. He’d pushed through worse pain than this before. So why… was he just lying here… why was he…?

"Oh," Tybalt said, eyebrows shooting up. "One sec!"

Without hesitation, he whirled around and swung his dagger -- parrying the sword of stone that had been aimed right for his neck. The new arrival -- Serena del Sed -- flipped over him and landed in front of Annatrice and Morgan, already forming another stone sword in her other hand. Her eyes narrowed as she stared her opponent down.

"Is that you, Tybalt?" she asked.

"Attack!" Tybalt exclaimed happily. "Wow, this is a surprise! I mean, I knew you were here -- here on the planet, I mean, but --"

Serena didn’t let him continue. She unleashed a flurry of slashes with her two swords, each one aimed to kill the person before her. The dagger sang, and the braid whipped -- Tybalt moving to block and dodge the incoming attacks.

As she pressed forward, Serena called out to the two behind her. "Don’t listen to him! When he’s like this, his words make you not wanna fight anymore!"

"Hey," Tybalt pouted even as sparks continued to fly. "You’re telling them!"

Serena scowled to herself, sweat trickling down her brow. She didn’t think she would be able to beat Tybalt in one-on-one combat, given the gap in their skills back during their Sed days, but -- then again -- she didn’t need to. Despite having three segmented aspects, Tybalt del Sed was still ultimately one person.

She, on the other hand, was just one half of a dynamic duo.

Serena opened her hand and let one sword slip from her grip and clatter to the floor. That was fine. She needed the hand free -- to seize hold of an invisible barrier and form a blade that could cut right through Tybalt’s defense.

Bruno! she cried in the valley of their minds. Do it now!

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Nothing happened.

Serena blinked.

Serena gasped.

He can’t hear me.

Tybalt blinked.

Tybalt grinned.

He’s hidden himself away!

Serena had intended to take advantage of Tybalt’s opening -- and instead, she had created one she simply couldn’t afford. Tybalt didn’t miss it. As soon as he realized what had happened, the jester poured out of Tybalt’s back -- and the beast leapt in to take its place.

The Id had come to play.

Tybalt’s braid exploded out, becoming a wild mop of hair that covered the top of his face, leaving only his wild grin visible. The dagger slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, but Tybalt didn’t so much as glance down at it. A weapon required far too much planning for him to indulge now.

"Ha!" Tybalt barked -- and in the same moment, he attacked.

It wasn’t even a punch. That, too, would have required more planning than Tybalt’s Id was willing to invest. Instead, he just slammed his palm into Serena’s stomach -- and the sheer enhanced force of the blow was enough to break her ribs, send her flying…

…and leave her unconscious in the crater of the wall.

This was terminal.

The Weapon fired itself out of the rubble like the payload of a railgun, brickwork and steel exploding in every direction around it. Like a lightning bolt itself, it blinked through the air towards Wolfram’s neck, so fast that even the Widow’s infused senses could barely keep track. The Weapon’s body spun like a top, electricity surging around its indistinct form, its leg ready to open Wolfram’s throat up with a single kick.

He reacted as the Widow had trained him. Very good.

Right before the Weapon’s attack landed, the flesh of Wolfram’s neck alone expanded to be several times larger than the rest of him. The sight of it was grotesque -- but it saved him all the same. The blow that would have been a lethal gash instead became a shallow scratch once his neck shrank again.

But there was such a thing as death from a thousand cuts.

The Weapon zipped around Wolfram’s body, dealing blow after blow that he was only able to mitigate with the use of that gruesome technique -- for the Widow, it was like looking at a warping balloon of flesh. If he was even a second off activating his ability, or misjudged the area the Weapon was going to attack, it would surely mean his death. He knew that, and yet he did not hesitate even once.

Still… this was terminal. Even the Widow had to accept that now. She took a deep, calm breath and prepared herself.

"Boy!" she roared, the air shaking from her infused voice. "Retreat!"

That massive eye swiveled around to look at Widow, pupil shrinking in shock. Fool boy. Why was he surprised? It should have been clear from the situation that things could end this way. No point hesitating now.

Wolfram had already wasted time, but he didn’t waste any more. As soon as he saw the ice-cold look in her eyes, he acquiesced. One moment, he was there…

…and in the next, with a spark of white, he was gone.

The Weapon didn’t stop for a second. It didn’t look around to see where its enemy had gone, or take any time to readjust to the situation. It wouldn’t even be accurate to say that it ’accepted’ the fact that its target had vanished. There wasn’t room for even that level of emotion beneath its mechanical efficiency.

It simply switched to the next closest target, without a moment’s delay.

The Widow grit her teeth in the instant before death reached her. This was vexing. In the end, they hadn’t even been able to land a scratch on this thing. She had been hoping not to have to use this, but…

"Cold Sleep!"

Annatrice gaped as she watched Serena be defeated in an instant. Her arms hung limp by her sides. Her breath hung waiting in her mouth.

But that only made sense. It was like Serena had said -- this guy’s voice drained your will to fight. That was why she was just standing there. That was why she was just standing there, doing nothing, like an idiot.

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Like a child.

"Ha!" Tybalt barked again, hunched over animalistically as he looked over his work. "Ahahaha! What the hell?! I thought you’d be better than that! You were supposed to have gotten so strong, Attack! Look at you! Look at you lying there all lugubriously! Ha! Ahahaha! You goddamn idiot!"

Annatrice took a step back, her foot hitting a rock -- and Tybalt’s head snapped to face her direction.

"I almost forgot about you!" he laughed. "You’ve got a real prosaic face, you know that?! C’mere, though. C’mere. Erica wants to meet you."

He took a step forward, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ain’t you lucky?! Ha! Ahahaha!"

"Run…" Morgan breathed, eyes sinking into unconsciousness.

No. Annatrice steeled herself with courage that perhaps did not exist. It was true: all Annatrice could do was run.

But Annatrice was nothing but a doorway.

Ego Emulation: Samael Ambrazo Zakos!

Ah, what bliss it was to exist!

Aether the colour of molten gold coursed around Samael’s form, and his mouth spread into a grin to match that of the hideous rapscallion across from him. Wasting no time, Samael thrust his hand forward, aiming for the heavy rocks resting behind this Tybalt’s ignoble position.

"Behold!" he cried with heroic fervor. "My nameless coup de grace!"

Tybalt made no move to dodge as the rocks surged towards him. No doubt he understood that presuming he could avoid such an attack was arrogance emigrating into absurdity. He just stood there, grinning at him…until the shadow with the hat leapt in to claim his body once more.

The wild hair pulled itself back into a tight bun, and Tybalt spoke.

"Actually." he said. "That ability is called ’Plunder Reach."

Samael blinked.

Annatrice blinked.

And the strand between the living and the dead…

…snapped.

Ego Emulation: Cancel.

The rocks fell harmlessly out of the air around Tybalt. The only effect that attack had on him was the raising of a single unimpressed eyebrow. The flimsy illusion of Samael Ambrazo Zakos had utterly disappeared from this place.

"Now." Tybalt said emotionlessly. "As I was saying. You’re coming with me."

Oh, Annatrice thought to herself as the man advanced upon her. That’s right.

I’m not those people.

I’m nothing.

Ruth felt the Weapon coming after her barely a second before it reached her.

She’d only made it halfway up the hill to the Sed proper when the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. How long had she been running with the Direwolf Set? Thirty seconds, maybe forty-five? No time at all, really…

…but if that was what they could give her, that was what she’d take.

Ruth whirled around, and the two traded blows.

It wasn’t a good deal. As the Weapon zipped past, it suffered only a slight scratch to its arm -- while one of Ruth’s mechanical legs went flying off completely, the joint cleanly torn away. As Ruth collapsed into the mud, and her leg dropped out of the sky, the Weapon skidded to a halt.

It was Ruth’s first time seeing it. Apparently, she’d encountered it in Sam Set’s simulations, and he’d described it to her -- but there was a difference between knowing about something and seeing it for yourself. Sam had been fairly vague, all things considered.

He hadn’t mentioned the specifics of the armour.

He hadn’t mentioned the flowing white hair.

He hadn’t mentioned… the barely-visible nubs of shaved-off antlers.

Awful pieces clicked together, and the bottom fell out of the world.

Just as it had for many nights before, her mind pulled her back to Elysian Fields. It pulled her back to those fields of suffering, and those rivers of blood, and those bone-ridden forests. It pulled her back to the corpses she’d seen. It pulled her back to the corpses… she hadn’t seen.

"Huh…?" Ruth breathed.

The Weapon didn’t even stop to look at the wound she had been dealt, even if it was minor. She just turned on the spot and walked back towards Ruth, as calm as could be. It started to rain, a downpour, each drop that struck the Weapon’s body causing a flash of electricity to illuminate the surrounding area.

Those antlers. That stride. That way of fighting.

Ruth’s face was lit up by the sparks, and Ruth’s mind kept pulling her.

It pulled her back to those lost. It pulled her back to the comrade she’d dragged into that hell. It pulled her back to the girl from XK-12, who had shot up into the sky… and never been seen again.

"Lily…?" Ruth whispered.

Her only reply was the bite of lightning.