***************
Silas Moon
Waving non-combatants from cooks to little Esther, I keep the convoy of people moving away from Bent. Luckily, the Steam Train came in this morning, so plenty of people can evacuate using it. Though... I do wonder if this is some trap. Not that we have much choice, however.
More people pass me, nearing a hundred in number, as I eye each, scrutinizing for any tricksters or hidden threats. Yet I find none. So, I raise my hand and shout toward Blake, who stands at the station for the Steam Train.
"We're good! Get them all on board!"
She waves at me, the distance makes it hard to see her actions entirely, but I get the jist of it. The woman hops down from the top of the metallic vehicle that runs hundreds of feet long and steps to discuss with the conductor. A ghost of hers tethers her movements as she lands softly.
The Steam Train only shows up once a month or so here to drop off supplies, but it is also outfitted for war, having weapons all over it and adorned with cannons. Millie sent us here first to help people escape, as Blake, Lennox, and I were the people furthest north that she could trust.
Well, us and a trio with a songster.
I turn to face Holt, asking him if he sees any imminent threats from the wall.
"Hey--"
But then a panicked voice enters my mind, piercing straight into it and disrupting my speech.
"Fi--nd Blake! Ha---ve her fall as--leep! We ne---ed her, and I ca---n only Day--mare the sleepin--g!"
"Ah fuck!"
My fingers dig into the side of my skull while my other hand holds onto the train's wall as I bear the pain of many overlaid voices, all of which belong to the pale man Abraham. Holt immediately shuffles to me and places a hand on my arm.
"You good? Is this some kind of Undead thing?"
Frantic, I shake my head as I scramble through Abraham's words. Blake? Why would they need her? Sure, she's far more powerful than she used to be, these few months doing a great deal for her, but what can she do in that moshpit?
Ahh fuck!
"Stay here. I need to get to Blake. I got a message from one of my friends still in the fort. Keep anything from attacking the train!"
Ether flows through my mind and body, slightly reducing the stinging pain in my head as I propel myself toward Blake. As I do so, thunderous beats, one seemingly continuously resounding and only growing in power, buzz from the depths of the fort. I struggle to not look behind me and focus.
I have no clue what's happening, but I can handle what's going on here without Blake. That is, if Lennox would stop investigating the train like it was a cool-looking rock.
"Lennox!"
The Stoneclad turns his head from underneath the train to glance at me.
"What!?"
Scoffing, I point at the entrance of the train.
"Stand there! Watch out for danger for a few minutes! Blake and I need to do something!"
Lennox shrugs and shambles over to the front of the train, pouting the whole way.
I don't have time for this. At least the kid has some strength. Between having two Sigils and being a Stoneclad, he should be enough to help Holt's squad. The benefits of being made of stone are quite large.
Pivoting around the stream of humans, Bado, and supplies that are entering the train, I compel my Ether to boost me upward as I climb to Blake. She raises an eyebrow as I do so, her eyes a dark shade of gray. They've been that color ever since she started using the skill from her Absolution.
Undeath is amazing. Godlike, even. But... she has so little control over it that it is worrisome. At the start, she couldn't even command the spirits that she summoned with it. Now she can, that is, if they aren't a higher Sigil than her. If they are, however, then they have their full mind and reason instead of blindly following her orders. Once, only once, did an Angel have to show up for caution to become a priority. Thankfully, I spoke to them and kept their hostility away since they knew Birdie.
Plus, the girl still has zero control over who, how many, or how powerful those she pulls from the Underworld are. She can only manipulate how long they are here and what they do if they are weak enough.
Shaking my head from the thoughts as those eyes just throw me off so heavily and give me an uncomfortable feeling, I tell her what I heard.
"Abraham sent me a message through Allude. He needs you to fall asleep. They require your help inside Bent."
Blake bites her lip as she stares at the escapees, motioning toward them.
"What about--?"
I cut her off, not wanting to waste any time. For Abraham to reach me with Allude and not her, I can only assume I was at the edge of his range. Meaning he needs assistance direly if he's asking that far away.
"I'll handle it. We aren't the only ones here, remember? Millie sent another few squads to help. Just get inside the train and fall asleep."
She nods, agreeing, and moves to step off the train before hesitating. Her foot hangs off the edge as she trembles. Dammit, Blake. I thought we were over this.
"Go on, girl. Don't keep 'em waiting. Hesit--"
She finishes my words by flipping me her middle finger and hopping off.
"Hesitating gets people killed. I know."
Then, she latches a ghostly smoke upon the side of the train and swings her way into an open window. Good. Hopefully, she's fast enough.
Now that she's gone, I tighten my gaze, watching over the backside of Bent and the surroundings. Ambushes could still happen. The Steam Train is crucial for the moving of Hunters and supplies. The Underground Tree has a second one in backup, but that will take time to get onto the tracks. Plus, we're relatively sure the reason why we are still here is because Eli Weiss slowed down the evacuation of farmers and the normal folk of Vallens.
I cannot let this one break.
***************
Wyatt Graves
I sit confused as a thunderous momentum thrusts into the square where I sit with Millie, the Colonel taking a moment to bandage her wounds as Tomas goes ahead. Yet, the man in question enters with Johnny and dives for us both, picking us up before we can refute his actions.
Then, Tomas sprints, kicking his legs in the opposite direction as we depart the square and move northward, Johnny giving a quick explanation.
"Marshall will kill the Angels and then catch up with us! We just need to get out before more arrive! Only he is fast enough to escape!"
I share a glance with the gunslinger as I hang upon Tomas' back. It is a knowing moment of eye contact. We both know Marshall isn't making it back from that. The lie exists only to make us feel better.
Wind flows over me as I can only stare backward, my whole torso upon Tomas' shoulder. On the other side of the newly risen Angel is Millie, the woman shouting at Tomas to turn around and help Marshall. Every half-second, a resonant beat resounds through the whole fortress, and we run away from it as fast as we can.
Or, I suppose Johnny and Tomas are because I'm exhausted and Millie is too slow—every step my carrier takes jostles me roughly. Meanwhile, I watch with my eyes glued on Marshall as he fights the demons and Pygmies in front of him.
So much happens that it is hard even to see what is entirely happening; every moment is filled with fire, steel, and blood while the old man endeavors to kill all those who strike at him. He's going to fight to the end, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it.
Slowly, gradually, the Unyielding Wall fades from my vision as we gain distance and buildings block my sight, the two Angels ferrying us away from danger with as much haste as possible. And as we move, the sounds of fights dim from behind but heighten in the direction we're running.
Earl's Coil's sound is unmistakable, leading us right to them. But before I manage to see any of my friends, I lose sight of Marshall from behind. Tomas sprints across streets, with alleyways providing short glimpses of the fighting Marshall.
And as we speed through the city, busting our asses to get out and head northward, I manipulate the Ether inside my body for a selfish reason. I want to see Marshall fight.
I've been struggling to learn Painsforge, and well... no, that's just an excuse. I want my own goodbye. Ether spirals as Insight blossoms in the split-second I see him in between the alleys.
**********************************
Marshall "Unyielding Wall" Travis
My right knee gives out as the bone inside slides and cracks, crashing my whole form onto the ground, narrowly dodging a ray of Azra's Arca. Ether rages in my body more similar to an ocean than a stream, but even still, even with Painsforge and two dozen other skills, my body won't move.
I sit frozen on the ground, kneeling, yet I tighten my fist, swarming my Ether, all of it toward the tip of my knuckle, for one last act. Meanwhile, the demons and Pygmies pause and gaze at me. Raising her hand, Azra is the cause of this lapse, this extension of my life. The focus of my Ether in my hand compels a burning inferno of pain, my flesh and bone shifting to sludge from my months of Ether overuse without rest.
She's come—the Pale Lady. I can feel her fingers caress my neck.
My mind flickers to when I told Tomas about Absolutions and how he should get one. It is a... fond memory. One that provides me comfort in the cold. It also tightens my fist further, filling it with purpose.
"Only in the dark can you find the Angel within. It does not dwell on a battle, even if that is where it is discovered. It is in the deepest parts of your body, mind, and soul. The Angel dwells only in the dark."
He asked me a simple question back then, wanting to know how I became an Angel myself. I was honest, speaking of the strife I once tore through.
"I tore out a bone of my missing forearm and stabbed it into the eye of a Urayuli. But... it was not in the act I found my Angel, my Absolution. It was in the dark afterward, as I lay bleeding, gradually chilling, did I find the light."
The memory is short, mainly containing my voice as we sit upon the warm walls of Bent. Yet... it is one of my favorites. Rarely do I get the chance to pour it out. Only Tomas ever had the luxury of knowing my innermost thoughts.
"Aren't you afraid to die, Marshall? Isn't there anything you wish to see? Wish to do? I give you a chance to retreat now, to live. You are giving up far too much by holding onto this piece of land to these people who barely care for you."
The Pygmy's words break me into reality. The blood loss has made me loopy, likely my aging body as well. A low chuckle coughs its way through my lungs into the world, reality silent to my response. I know why she asks this, but I answer how I want to. She doesn't want to see the peak of Painsforge but they are in a hurry to stop Vincent's coming storm. So, for them, it's either meet the end of my rage or wait for Vincent to rise. I enunciate and prove words slowly with a step upward to my feet from trembling legs. My right leg lies useless right the left one picks up its slack.
I reply honestly. I am but one man. There are many behind me. It is as simple as that. I don't have to answer, but I want to.
"It's not too much, Azra. Just myself. Some things are always more important than others."
My knees buckle and wain, but I force them to sit perfectly against each other, giving me stability. My right eye, closed shut from beatings, forces itself open to see my killers.
Sneering, Azra, floating from the steam departing her Armament while holding her Ordnance, dismisses my response.
"If you say so, human. Today you die. And tomorrow, we advance on those farms behind you. Then, we shall take your mines and ore, improving our arms for our battle against the demons before killing the rest of your kind. Along that road, we will even end your eldest, stopping a human from rising to Godhood."
Her words bite deep, but I know better. Many of my men will live today. And even if the Estates are corrupt and the Pillars selfish, humans are anything but weak, for he yet remains. And so, I stare up at her, meeting her gaze, offering a warning of my own. Do they think they can kill Vincent?
Stopping him from doing something is possible. Killing him?
Hubris.
"As it is, it will be. But remember, Azra, we do not die noiselessly. Every man, woman, and child beyond these walls will rage against your armies. And you have not yet met our strongest. I am merely an appetizer compared to the Sea's Shadow and the Wastelander. As long as he lives, humanity will never die."
Azra scoffs, lowering herself to meet my hobbled and bent body. The Pygmy aims her Ordnance at my face as she retorts me. Meanwhile, I compel my Ether forcing everything I've ever known to move in unison: Painsforge blares an endless warning, the strength of a dying man too much for me to handle.
Even the pressure of the Mother Below appears something I've not felt in decades. Yet... I ignore it all. Another Absolution would mean nothing, even if I survive. Instead... instead... I will take my baby, the skill I've turned from nothing into everything, into the sky.
"You will regret this in the afterlife, Marshall. I give you a chance to live, and you throw it all away. I've always admired your strength and knowledge, but this is positively foolish."
Laughing and choking up blood, I respond the only way I can. I have no regrets, after all. More and more Ether spurs as my heartbeat stops entirely, the organ unable to sustain me any longer. Yet, I continue. Even as my form turns to mush, the agony spiking to intolerable levels, I continue.
"How could I regret the only life I've ever lived, Azra? I was born fighting. And... damn the Devil himself if I die any other way."
Azra's eyes widen as I finish my words, my whole body tightening in strength as I force my Ether into action through my entire body. From Single to Bestowing Strand, the flame-like Ether within my body roars, spiking as it erupts from me uncontrollably.
The Pygmy leaps back, her Armament tightening in defense as she screams at the rest of those around her.
"FUCKING RUN!"
My body cannot even smile as I take the jump I always thought was possible. I was simply... not good enough, and I can only supplement my talent and hard work with my life.
Above a Dzil... things still exist. For... a Dzil is only the limit of what the human body can handle. A Sidir is the limit of Ether control, not that I possess one of those, though I know Eli Weiss and Vincent do. Beyond those concepts is...
To go beyond.
Sirza. A fabled word, one spoken of only in legends and of the Binary Lords and the Prime. Only three beings in existence possess one, a skill that goes beyond the bodily limit and the soul's control limit. Leviathan, Behemoth, and Vincent Harvey are the only ones.
I always wondered how it was possible. To go beyond the body makes sense, but control? How does one surpass their own control?
Yet... I think I found it.
My mind and soul seem to blend with my very Ether, giving me complete knowledge of my limits, of everything to do with the substance inside me. This is not the simple split from Willful or resonance with Living. It ascends beyond that, and I push onto it. This is the next step, that which is common only in 9th Sigils—Soul Strand.
This feeling acclimates and propagates throughout my whole form as time slows, my life flashing before my eyes. Before my vision, the Angels run, using every avenue they can to escape before I strike, but to me? I only see my fondest memories replay.
None of them are the many battles nor of the victories. It is the simple things—the mundane ones.
When I took Tomas to meet Ed Summers up north, watching the young boy play in the snow was... heartwarming. I wished I let him play a bit longer. But no... he had to meet Kate.
When Tomas gave me a birthday present, it was laughable, a single cookie overcooked and ruined that he made overnight in the kitchen. I ate it with glee, even if I couldn't show it on my face.
When I watched Tomas leave for his first mission, my heart soared with anxiety worse than I had during my first battle. I wish he didn't have to fight at all. But... he does. We all do. I'm happy I prepared him.
The last memory that flows into my mind and dissipates into my Ether is when I found a babe dropped off on the side of the street when I visited Sinscreak over two decades ago. I force myself to pause on the image of little Tomas, my Cub.
That is enough rumination, Marshall. Any more, and you may lose your resolve. Any more, and you may turn to ash before you swing.
I tighten my jaw as I return my sight to me. My whole body is collapsing from Ether saturation, my skill dissolving me even in this slowed perception of time. My right arm, the left one removed earlier in order to save my life, flexes as I rear it back.
The simple, mundane action fills me with so much pain I almost blackout. And I've been decapitated before. The pain of too much Ether is soul-deep. Yet, this is far worse than any time I've had to use a Concoction, Serum, or Elixir.
In exchange, the Ether that powers Painsforge, turning pain into physical strength, detonates with purpose. All nine methods of Ether manipulation at once create something beyond humanity. Single, Many, Braided, Steel, Steam, Willful, Living, Bestowing, and Soul all unite for one glorious purpose.
Power, overwhelming power, suffuses my whole form. And for a single moment, on my deathbed, while the Pale Lady reaches for my soul, I leap off the peak and enter the skies above. To go beyond the limit of one's control, you must have a skill that takes the reins from you, exponentially growing in power without your focus.
And as my whole frame obliterates itself, the Ether killing me yet strengthening me in a hellish feedback loop, I move my arm forward. In this slowed time, my arm swings upward as usual, not any faster or slower than those practiced swings of my youth. Yet, along the skin are flickers of flame, not from my Ether but from pure friction.
Swinging my fist toward Azra, my vision narrows to a fine point, focusing entirely on her face before turning to darkness.
That is fine. I do not need to see the result. I'm sure Tomas will be fine. So will my men. I know Eli's schemed this all together, yet...
It's better to have faith in something than have nothing at all.
And at the very least, I did what I always hoped to do with Painsforge, for I can simply feel it in my bones. I Shattered The Sky.
***************
Silas Moon
Waving non-combatants from cooks to little Esther, I keep the convoy of people moving away from Bent. Luckily, the Steam Train came in this morning, so plenty of people can evacuate using it. Though... I do wonder if this is some trap. Not that we have much choice, however.
More people pass me, nearing a hundred in number, as I eye each, scrutinizing for any tricksters or hidden threats. Yet I find none. So, I raise my hand and shout toward Blake, who stands at the station for the Steam Train.
"We're good! Get them all on board!"
She waves at me, the distance makes it hard to see her actions entirely, but I get the jist of it. The woman hops down from the top of the metallic vehicle that runs hundreds of feet long and steps to discuss with the conductor. A ghost of hers tethers her movements as she lands softly.
The Steam Train only shows up once a month or so here to drop off supplies, but it is also outfitted for war, having weapons all over it and adorned with cannons. Millie sent us here first to help people escape, as Blake, Lennox, and I were the people furthest north that she could trust.
Well, us and a trio with a songster.
I turn to face Holt, asking him if he sees any imminent threats from the wall.
"Hey--"
But then a panicked voice enters my mind, piercing straight into it and disrupting my speech.
"Fi--nd Blake! Ha---ve her fall as--leep! We ne---ed her, and I ca---n only Day--mare the sleepin--g!"
"Ah fuck!"
My fingers dig into the side of my skull while my other hand holds onto the train's wall as I bear the pain of many overlaid voices, all of which belong to the pale man Abraham. Holt immediately shuffles to me and places a hand on my arm.
"You good? Is this some kind of Undead thing?"
Frantic, I shake my head as I scramble through Abraham's words. Blake? Why would they need her? Sure, she's far more powerful than she used to be, these few months doing a great deal for her, but what can she do in that moshpit?
Ahh fuck!
"Stay here. I need to get to Blake. I got a message from one of my friends still in the fort. Keep anything from attacking the train!"
Ether flows through my mind and body, slightly reducing the stinging pain in my head as I propel myself toward Blake. As I do so, thunderous beats, one seemingly continuously resounding and only growing in power, buzz from the depths of the fort. I struggle to not look behind me and focus.
I have no clue what's happening, but I can handle what's going on here without Blake. That is, if Lennox would stop investigating the train like it was a cool-looking rock.
"Lennox!"
The Stoneclad turns his head from underneath the train to glance at me.
"What!?"
Scoffing, I point at the entrance of the train.
"Stand there! Watch out for danger for a few minutes! Blake and I need to do something!"
Lennox shrugs and shambles over to the front of the train, pouting the whole way.
I don't have time for this. At least the kid has some strength. Between having two Sigils and being a Stoneclad, he should be enough to help Holt's squad. The benefits of being made of stone are quite large.
Pivoting around the stream of humans, Bado, and supplies that are entering the train, I compel my Ether to boost me upward as I climb to Blake. She raises an eyebrow as I do so, her eyes a dark shade of gray. They've been that color ever since she started using the skill from her Absolution.
Undeath is amazing. Godlike, even. But... she has so little control over it that it is worrisome. At the start, she couldn't even command the spirits that she summoned with it. Now she can, that is, if they aren't a higher Sigil than her. If they are, however, then they have their full mind and reason instead of blindly following her orders. Once, only once, did an Angel have to show up for caution to become a priority. Thankfully, I spoke to them and kept their hostility away since they knew Birdie.
Plus, the girl still has zero control over who, how many, or how powerful those she pulls from the Underworld are. She can only manipulate how long they are here and what they do if they are weak enough.
Shaking my head from the thoughts as those eyes just throw me off so heavily and give me an uncomfortable feeling, I tell her what I heard.
"Abraham sent me a message through Allude. He needs you to fall asleep. They require your help inside Bent."
Blake bites her lip as she stares at the escapees, motioning toward them.
"What about--?"
I cut her off, not wanting to waste any time. For Abraham to reach me with Allude and not her, I can only assume I was at the edge of his range. Meaning he needs assistance direly if he's asking that far away.
"I'll handle it. We aren't the only ones here, remember? Millie sent another few squads to help. Just get inside the train and fall asleep."
She nods, agreeing, and moves to step off the train before hesitating. Her foot hangs off the edge as she trembles. Dammit, Blake. I thought we were over this.
"Go on, girl. Don't keep 'em waiting. Hesit--"
She finishes my words by flipping me her middle finger and hopping off.
"Hesitating gets people killed. I know."
Then, she latches a ghostly smoke upon the side of the train and swings her way into an open window. Good. Hopefully, she's fast enough.
Now that she's gone, I tighten my gaze, watching over the backside of Bent and the surroundings. Ambushes could still happen. The Steam Train is crucial for the moving of Hunters and supplies. The Underground Tree has a second one in backup, but that will take time to get onto the tracks. Plus, we're relatively sure the reason why we are still here is because Eli Weiss slowed down the evacuation of farmers and the normal folk of Vallens.
I cannot let this one break.
***************
Wyatt Graves
I sit confused as a thunderous momentum thrusts into the square where I sit with Millie, the Colonel taking a moment to bandage her wounds as Tomas goes ahead. Yet, the man in question enters with Johnny and dives for us both, picking us up before we can refute his actions.
Then, Tomas sprints, kicking his legs in the opposite direction as we depart the square and move northward, Johnny giving a quick explanation.
"Marshall will kill the Angels and then catch up with us! We just need to get out before more arrive! Only he is fast enough to escape!"
I share a glance with the gunslinger as I hang upon Tomas' back. It is a knowing moment of eye contact. We both know Marshall isn't making it back from that. The lie exists only to make us feel better.
Wind flows over me as I can only stare backward, my whole torso upon Tomas' shoulder. On the other side of the newly risen Angel is Millie, the woman shouting at Tomas to turn around and help Marshall. Every half-second, a resonant beat resounds through the whole fortress, and we run away from it as fast as we can.
Or, I suppose Johnny and Tomas are because I'm exhausted and Millie is too slow—every step my carrier takes jostles me roughly. Meanwhile, I watch with my eyes glued on Marshall as he fights the demons and Pygmies in front of him.
So much happens that it is hard even to see what is entirely happening; every moment is filled with fire, steel, and blood while the old man endeavors to kill all those who strike at him. He's going to fight to the end, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it.
Slowly, gradually, the Unyielding Wall fades from my vision as we gain distance and buildings block my sight, the two Angels ferrying us away from danger with as much haste as possible. And as we move, the sounds of fights dim from behind but heighten in the direction we're running.
Earl's Coil's sound is unmistakable, leading us right to them. But before I manage to see any of my friends, I lose sight of Marshall from behind. Tomas sprints across streets, with alleyways providing short glimpses of the fighting Marshall.
And as we speed through the city, busting our asses to get out and head northward, I manipulate the Ether inside my body for a selfish reason. I want to see Marshall fight.
I've been struggling to learn Painsforge, and well... no, that's just an excuse. I want my own goodbye. Ether spirals as Insight blossoms in the split-second I see him in between the alleys.
**********************************
Marshall "Unyielding Wall" Travis
My right knee gives out as the bone inside slides and cracks, crashing my whole form onto the ground, narrowly dodging a ray of Azra's Arca. Ether rages in my body more similar to an ocean than a stream, but even still, even with Painsforge and two dozen other skills, my body won't move.
I sit frozen on the ground, kneeling, yet I tighten my fist, swarming my Ether, all of it toward the tip of my knuckle, for one last act. Meanwhile, the demons and Pygmies pause and gaze at me. Raising her hand, Azra is the cause of this lapse, this extension of my life. The focus of my Ether in my hand compels a burning inferno of pain, my flesh and bone shifting to sludge from my months of Ether overuse without rest.
She's come—the Pale Lady. I can feel her fingers caress my neck.
My mind flickers to when I told Tomas about Absolutions and how he should get one. It is a... fond memory. One that provides me comfort in the cold. It also tightens my fist further, filling it with purpose.
"Only in the dark can you find the Angel within. It does not dwell on a battle, even if that is where it is discovered. It is in the deepest parts of your body, mind, and soul. The Angel dwells only in the dark."
He asked me a simple question back then, wanting to know how I became an Angel myself. I was honest, speaking of the strife I once tore through.
"I tore out a bone of my missing forearm and stabbed it into the eye of a Urayuli. But... it was not in the act I found my Angel, my Absolution. It was in the dark afterward, as I lay bleeding, gradually chilling, did I find the light."
The memory is short, mainly containing my voice as we sit upon the warm walls of Bent. Yet... it is one of my favorites. Rarely do I get the chance to pour it out. Only Tomas ever had the luxury of knowing my innermost thoughts.
"Aren't you afraid to die, Marshall? Isn't there anything you wish to see? Wish to do? I give you a chance to retreat now, to live. You are giving up far too much by holding onto this piece of land to these people who barely care for you."
The Pygmy's words break me into reality. The blood loss has made me loopy, likely my aging body as well. A low chuckle coughs its way through my lungs into the world, reality silent to my response. I know why she asks this, but I answer how I want to. She doesn't want to see the peak of Painsforge but they are in a hurry to stop Vincent's coming storm. So, for them, it's either meet the end of my rage or wait for Vincent to rise. I enunciate and prove words slowly with a step upward to my feet from trembling legs. My right leg lies useless right the left one picks up its slack.
I reply honestly. I am but one man. There are many behind me. It is as simple as that. I don't have to answer, but I want to.
"It's not too much, Azra. Just myself. Some things are always more important than others."
My knees buckle and wain, but I force them to sit perfectly against each other, giving me stability. My right eye, closed shut from beatings, forces itself open to see my killers.
Sneering, Azra, floating from the steam departing her Armament while holding her Ordnance, dismisses my response.
"If you say so, human. Today you die. And tomorrow, we advance on those farms behind you. Then, we shall take your mines and ore, improving our arms for our battle against the demons before killing the rest of your kind. Along that road, we will even end your eldest, stopping a human from rising to Godhood."
Her words bite deep, but I know better. Many of my men will live today. And even if the Estates are corrupt and the Pillars selfish, humans are anything but weak, for he yet remains. And so, I stare up at her, meeting her gaze, offering a warning of my own. Do they think they can kill Vincent?
Stopping him from doing something is possible. Killing him?
Hubris.
"As it is, it will be. But remember, Azra, we do not die noiselessly. Every man, woman, and child beyond these walls will rage against your armies. And you have not yet met our strongest. I am merely an appetizer compared to the Sea's Shadow and the Wastelander. As long as he lives, humanity will never die."
Azra scoffs, lowering herself to meet my hobbled and bent body. The Pygmy aims her Ordnance at my face as she retorts me. Meanwhile, I compel my Ether forcing everything I've ever known to move in unison: Painsforge blares an endless warning, the strength of a dying man too much for me to handle.
Even the pressure of the Mother Below appears something I've not felt in decades. Yet... I ignore it all. Another Absolution would mean nothing, even if I survive. Instead... instead... I will take my baby, the skill I've turned from nothing into everything, into the sky.
"You will regret this in the afterlife, Marshall. I give you a chance to live, and you throw it all away. I've always admired your strength and knowledge, but this is positively foolish."
Laughing and choking up blood, I respond the only way I can. I have no regrets, after all. More and more Ether spurs as my heartbeat stops entirely, the organ unable to sustain me any longer. Yet, I continue. Even as my form turns to mush, the agony spiking to intolerable levels, I continue.
"How could I regret the only life I've ever lived, Azra? I was born fighting. And... damn the Devil himself if I die any other way."
Azra's eyes widen as I finish my words, my whole body tightening in strength as I force my Ether into action through my entire body. From Single to Bestowing Strand, the flame-like Ether within my body roars, spiking as it erupts from me uncontrollably.
The Pygmy leaps back, her Armament tightening in defense as she screams at the rest of those around her.
"FUCKING RUN!"
My body cannot even smile as I take the jump I always thought was possible. I was simply... not good enough, and I can only supplement my talent and hard work with my life.
Above a Dzil... things still exist. For... a Dzil is only the limit of what the human body can handle. A Sidir is the limit of Ether control, not that I possess one of those, though I know Eli Weiss and Vincent do. Beyond those concepts is...
To go beyond.
Sirza. A fabled word, one spoken of only in legends and of the Binary Lords and the Prime. Only three beings in existence possess one, a skill that goes beyond the bodily limit and the soul's control limit. Leviathan, Behemoth, and Vincent Harvey are the only ones.
I always wondered how it was possible. To go beyond the body makes sense, but control? How does one surpass their own control?
Yet... I think I found it.
My mind and soul seem to blend with my very Ether, giving me complete knowledge of my limits, of everything to do with the substance inside me. This is not the simple split from Willful or resonance with Living. It ascends beyond that, and I push onto it. This is the next step, that which is common only in 9th Sigils—Soul Strand.
This feeling acclimates and propagates throughout my whole form as time slows, my life flashing before my eyes. Before my vision, the Angels run, using every avenue they can to escape before I strike, but to me? I only see my fondest memories replay.
None of them are the many battles nor of the victories. It is the simple things—the mundane ones.
When I took Tomas to meet Ed Summers up north, watching the young boy play in the snow was... heartwarming. I wished I let him play a bit longer. But no... he had to meet Kate.
When Tomas gave me a birthday present, it was laughable, a single cookie overcooked and ruined that he made overnight in the kitchen. I ate it with glee, even if I couldn't show it on my face.
When I watched Tomas leave for his first mission, my heart soared with anxiety worse than I had during my first battle. I wish he didn't have to fight at all. But... he does. We all do. I'm happy I prepared him.
The last memory that flows into my mind and dissipates into my Ether is when I found a babe dropped off on the side of the street when I visited Sinscreak over two decades ago. I force myself to pause on the image of little Tomas, my Cub.
That is enough rumination, Marshall. Any more, and you may lose your resolve. Any more, and you may turn to ash before you swing.
I tighten my jaw as I return my sight to me. My whole body is collapsing from Ether saturation, my skill dissolving me even in this slowed perception of time. My right arm, the left one removed earlier in order to save my life, flexes as I rear it back.
The simple, mundane action fills me with so much pain I almost blackout. And I've been decapitated before. The pain of too much Ether is soul-deep. Yet, this is far worse than any time I've had to use a Concoction, Serum, or Elixir.
In exchange, the Ether that powers Painsforge, turning pain into physical strength, detonates with purpose. All nine methods of Ether manipulation at once create something beyond humanity. Single, Many, Braided, Steel, Steam, Willful, Living, Bestowing, and Soul all unite for one glorious purpose.
Power, overwhelming power, suffuses my whole form. And for a single moment, on my deathbed, while the Pale Lady reaches for my soul, I leap off the peak and enter the skies above. To go beyond the limit of one's control, you must have a skill that takes the reins from you, exponentially growing in power without your focus.
And as my whole frame obliterates itself, the Ether killing me yet strengthening me in a hellish feedback loop, I move my arm forward. In this slowed time, my arm swings upward as usual, not any faster or slower than those practiced swings of my youth. Yet, along the skin are flickers of flame, not from my Ether but from pure friction.
Swinging my fist toward Azra, my vision narrows to a fine point, focusing entirely on her face before turning to darkness.
That is fine. I do not need to see the result. I'm sure Tomas will be fine. So will my men. I know Eli's schemed this all together, yet...
It's better to have faith in something than have nothing at all.
And at the very least, I did what I always hoped to do with Painsforge, for I can simply feel it in my bones. I Shattered The Sky.
