*************
Wyatt Graves
As the tempestuous storm closes in, its rage unfurling like a wrathful deity incurred by a man who struck at it, I race through the desolate streets behind the ruined Bent to reach the Steam Train and its station. The ominous black clouds loom overhead, casting an omnipresent darkness upon the fortressed city turned mostly to rubble. Each step I take is punctuated by the relentless rain, soaking me to the bone as if nature itself conspires against my escape in vengeance for the Unyielding Wall's hand that conjured its unending fury.
Beside me hurtles Blake, Virgil, Earl, Primrose, and the rest of the team that fought inside Bent, including a few soldiers we found along the way. Sadly, however, no soldier below the 4th Sigil seems to have survived the hurricane unleashed by Marshall. Either that, or they escaped in time. I hope it's the latter.
My heart pounds in my chest, matching the rhythm of thunder that reverberates through the air. The wind howls like a chorus of mournful spirits, driving me onward with an urgency fueled by both fear and desperation. Even the wind alone pushes me forward, the velocity enough that Ether is required to not fly away into the sky, never to be seen again. I really hope Bonfire was found by Johnny. The dumbass literally flew away by the winds like an umbrella.
Yet ahead, the lights bursting out the sides of a large steel contraption gives me some solidity of mind—the Steam Train. Nothing in the world meets its size and craftsmanship. The train, our fleeting sanctuary, beckons in the distance. Just a bit further!
Rapid and fleeting breaths continually exit my lungs as I struggle to keep up, my Ether reaching my limit with a crippling headache threatening to send me to the ground. Yet, I force myself forward as I see a particular animal peek out from a window of the train, a bark signaling me ahead. Dakota. I'm thankful Elizabeth wanted him to stay with her today. Typically, the fox joins my training against Tomas.
As I draw nearer, the sight that greets me is one of both relief and trepidation. The platform is teeming with soldiers, their weary faces etched with determination and resolve. Many of them are the lower Sigiled I was worrying about earlier, but the number is far too low. Hundreds, close to a thousand Base Sigiled, were once stationed in Bent, and now, I see at most a hundred. And even worse? Among them, only a dozen are Wondrous. At least we have the two 4ths and 5ths that we found on our sprint back.
At the same time, as I get even closer, more details emerge on the train I've never genuinely examined or gotten proximate to before. Marshall always said it'd be a waste of time as even a dunce could operate it. But the view of the train fills me with rushing blood despite my exhaustion. The train carriages are laden with an arsenal of weapons, an ominous reminder of what just occurred and the impending battles to come. A gatling gun adorns nearly every window; meanwhile, atop the train sits tiny bunkers with large rifles inside them, built for Angel-killing.
Stepping amidst the throng of soldiers rushing onto the train, I see wounded comrades being carried and supported by their fellow fighters. Their pained expressions bear witness to the toll of battle, their bodies battered and broken. Curses and sorrows ring aloud under the rain as many soldiers rush into the walls of the train while steam begins to bellow out from the front. A piercing wail joins the cloud that is rapidly torn apart by the rain, and Virgil shows me a faster way inside.
He runs along the side of the train, kicking off the side and grappling the top of it before swinging himself over. Once upon the top of the train, he shouts to me.
"C'mon! We can't waste time! Let the wounded use the door!"
Nodding, I follow him, climbing up the train swiftly as Blake, Primrose, and Skyswain follow. Abraham is ripped up by a tendril of Virgil while Frozen and Clusmy hobble into the train from injuries. Earl makes it up to us as well, but Primrose throws him down the hatch on the top within a bunker as Elizabeth screams over the storm for his help with the train.
Only a few more seconds pass before everyone is on board, and the winds descend into insanity. I'm forced to grab onto the bunker of the train as the tempests pick up even further in speed. Glancing up, the sky is entirely dark.
What did Marshall do?
Skyswain screams over the thunder raging not far away, the lightning easily visible.
"Are we leaving!? I don't see Johnny or Bonfire!?"
She makes me gaze outward, and I comb through the field that leads to the crumbled fortress of Bent. Yet, I don't see a lick of chains that would indicate that someone is there. Come on! Where are you guys!
Another few seconds pass, and no one shows either. Elizabeth must be waiting. Come on, Johnny. Come on!
Another few seconds pass, and the winds fall even further to depravity as a sudden gust rips the bunker I was holding onto into the air.
"Fuck!"
Screaming, I fly into the air, weightlessness beneath my feet, but a chilly sensation encompasses my feet before I slam heavily into the steel top of the train.
"Get the fuck inside!"
Virgil, my savior, yells at the top of his lungs, shoving Skyswain and Abraham inside while Primrose slides herself in through a window. Lunging forward with my arm, I create a Leash that drags me in with the help of Virgil, the rain cascading over me like a torrential waterfall. Each inch I move feels heavier as if the weight of the whole storm bears down upon me. The chaos around me is deafening, the shouts and cries of men mingling with the crashing thunder.
After several seconds of strife, I haul myself through the hatch, and the moment I fall inside, landing roughly on the floor, someone closes it. Then, a thousand voices seem to inundate me as the train is packed. Bodies press against each other every which way as I struggle even to breathe. I get only a moment to investigate the train from the inside, and it nearly blows my mind.
The train's intricate design captivates me, every detail meticulously crafted with precision, even as I'm shoved left and right by people passing through. Gleaming brass adornments glint under the pale glow of the gas lamps, casting an ethereal radiance upon the platform. The aroma of coal and steam permeates the air, intermingling with the faint scent of oil and metal and somehow fighting against the stifling odor of rain. The rhythmic hiss and clank of the machinery echo throughout the carriages, a symphony of mechanical prowess that outdoes even my right arm.
I find myself in awe of the train's interior, a sheltered and cramped expanse of polished wood and plush seats; only the wood is now weathered and the seats bloody. The windows, made of a peculiar transparent material, offer a glimpse of the world outside, distorted by the raindrops cascading down the glass. Some windows, however, are open, treading the wind and water inside.
The sight of the weapons lining the walls of the train attracts my attention the most as I gather my bearings. Rifles, pistols, and blades of various shapes and sizes stand as silent sentinels. Yet, I can't waste too much time being enraptured by the craftsmanship of Eli Weiss. I need to know what's happening.
So, I endeavor to reach Virgil, the man only a few feet away, but a shout, one enunciated by Ether from Millie, stops everyone in their panicked tracks.
"ABRAHAM! CAN YOU GET JOHNNY!"
The voice, bouncing off every steel wall with an echo, is caught by Abraham, and he returns it with the answer I'm expecting.
"---"
Mentally. Abraham answers mentally, of course, but I meet eyes with him a moment after his answer, and he delivers the result to me.
"I can get Johnny and Bonfire one at a time if they fall asleep. Millie took that as good enough, and we're about to. You... might want to grab onto something."
Nodding, I take his advice. Johnny should be fine. I'm more worried about Bonfire, but Abraham can conjure him with Daymare, the easiest of us all. So, I trudge through the bodies of soldiers and the escaping staff of Bent as I endeavor not to worsen any of the woundeds' conditions.
Half a dozen seconds pass of my careful movement before I reach the window, latching my hands onto the steel of the train as the rain continues to downpour. Puddles gather at our feet, but they are minor and are sloshed out by drains at the bottom. My grip feels firm, the frigid metal apparent under both my fleshy and bronze hands.
A thrust almost knocks me over as the wind continues to pick up, a strike coming from the window and blasting me heavily in the face. I nearly fall backward from surprise as the train moves. The loud wail from the steel rises in volume before it almost drones out the rain.
And as the massive vehicle moves, the scenery begins to change, shifting beyond my sight similar to that of a carriage but only faster. And it only continues to accelerate, the screeching steel growing louder.
But with every passing second, the storm intensifies, unleashing its fury upon the world. The gusting winds threaten to rip the train from its path, the driving rain that joins the winds blurring my vision. Yet, the weight of the train holds it down, preventing the liftoff of us all. Still, that doesn't mean panic doesn't arise. Screams flow all around me as the vehicle we ride bounces and shakes terribly. Meanwhile, my hands tighten upon the window sill in anticipation as a body joins beside me. Virgil.
"Relax. This girl weighs tons. There is no way a storm can pick it up."
I twist my head, even as the wind whips at my neck from the open windows. As the train hurtles forward through the unrelenting storm, I find myself clinging desperately to the window frame, my fingers gripping it with white-knuckled intensity. The tempestuous winds whip and howl outside, unleashing their fury upon the speeding locomotive, telling me that Virgil may not be right.
There is nothing I can do if he's wrong, however, but I'd like to know how he thinks of this.
"You sure? Did Earl tell you that?"
Virgil shakes his head, slamming his back against the wall as a bump riddles the whole carriage with a bolt of force. Fucking hell. What is happening!? Are Jonnhy and Bonfire okay? This is... this is no storm!
"No... he didn't. I just--"
The once gentle rain reforges itself constantly into a relentless deluge, hammering against the windowpanes with an uncompromising force that grows with every minute. Rivulets of water cascade down the glass around me, blurring the world beyond into a swirling haze of darkness and chaos; meanwhile, before me, blades of water tear into my flesh, cutting small lines of blood with their passion.
But in a sudden, gut-wrenching moment, as I listen to Virgil, a monstrous jolt rocks the entire train, ripping me away from my tenuous grasp. Time slows as I am propelled towards the window, a fleeting glimpse of light inside before I am flung out into the tempestuous abyss.
My body hurtles through the torrential rain and howling winds, a mere speck in the vast, swirling chaos. Darkness engulfs me as I tumble through the stormy void, the world spinning in a disorienting blur. Instinctively, Liberation fills my weary body and mind, the bits of time delivering me enough leeway to use such a skill.
Time slows to a crawl, no, less than that, as a bolt of lightning hangs in the air far beyond my sight, dyeing the world with a glimpse of light. Raindrops hang suspended like glistening diamonds from the lightning's rays, and the deafening roar of the tempest becomes a haunting silence.
In this suspended moment, my mind races for anything to yank me back inside; my body is almost twenty feet from the train as it moves inches away from me gradually. Even in this slowed time, it progresses. The radiance of the lightning strike allows me to examine my situation, and I find that I am not the only one flung out of the train. Not only that, but Virgil is leaning out of the window, already grasping toward me with tendrils of shade.
Additionally, the entire back half of the train is suspended a man's height into the air. The side of the rearmost carriage is dented heavily from something. Either an attacker, or a piece of Bent that was flung all the way over here. Regardless, it's a perilous thing for everyone inside the train, including me.
Should the train tip over and crash... so many will die from the impact alone, and that's dismissing the storm afterward. I need to do something. But what? What the hell can I possibly do?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A chill creeps into my shoulders as I realize the responsibility. They will all die if I don't stop this. Perhaps Tomas and Virgil can survive the crash through their toughness and Flicker, respectively, but everyone else will, beyond a shadow of a doubt, either die from the impact or the watery winds.
What do I do?
Think! Think, dammit!
If only--
NO! Earl is not here to help. I'm running out of time! THINK!
Okay, okay, okay, do as Earl says.
Break it down—brick by brick. Disassemble, reassemble, do.
I'm in the air.
I'm low on Ether.
A half dozen others are in the air.
And the back of the train is damaged, tipped, and several feet above the tracks.
First... the train is most important. Virgil can... probably get a few of those people. That means I need to focus on the train. But how? How can I get it back on the tracks?
I'm fast expending my time in Liberation as blood streams into and down my nose, my limit approaching. But I need to focus not on the consequences but on the solutions.
One more thing of Ether is all I got in me, maybe two if I truly stretch it.
With only two skills, how do I pull something back to the ground?
A duo of Leashes.
The idea blooms even as I want to toss it away. It's foolish. It's stupid. It's nigh-suicidal to stop rerail a train with your bare hands. But... I don't have to stop the train; I just have to get it back on track and onto the ground. Worse case, I'll pass out after succeeding, and Abraham can Daymare me back inside.
Okay... two Leashes.
Affirming my plan, I mentally speak to the Bloody Palm.
"I need help. A lot of it, and I'm not entirely sure how this will go, so be ready for anything!"
I don't wait for confirmation as it worked before, and I let Liberation fade as two Leashes form in each of my arms. Then, I scream aloud as fast as possible, whipping both Leashes toward the back of the speeding train.
"GET THE OTHERS!"
Again, I don't wait for a reply as I, using mainly the strength of my prosthetic while the train moves forward, rip myself to the back of the train, flying through the air. Then, a cluster of fleshy tendrils flows from my left arm down my body until they latch onto the ground pulling me down as they are near instantly stripped away by the train's velocity.
A grunt of pain comes from the Bloody Palm, but the artifact senses the urgency and steps up to the challenge. More and more flesh rips me to the ground as the train car flies through the air, dragging more and more of the train into the air as they threaten to slam into the ground.
Screaming as the Bloody Palm and I make contact with the ground, I realize this is the most dangerous thing I've ever done.
Fuck it. Earl has extra Serums. I'll probably live long enough to get one.
Breathing in more profoundly than ever before, my mind blares with unimaginable pain that almost reduces me to nothing but blackness. But I refuse to fall as I Release my legs and knees while simultaneously doing everything I possibly can to enhance myself, the Bloody Palm doing the same.
Then, my boots slam into the train tracks, instantly shredding my flesh and breaking my bones. The agony spears dots into my vision as the Bloody Palm replaces the meat, creating five pounds for every single one that turns to gore.
The next things to break are my Leashes, the constructs of Ether far too weak to hold an entire train. Yet, I'm not alone. The Bloody Palm wraps flesh around the rear of the train as I see a Nightmare of Abraham's appear, using a lasso to attach onto me as well.
Then finally, my force seems to matter, a pressure ripping its way through my body a single moment before the first train car crashes into the ground.
Straining against the fury of the elements, I pull with all my might, my muscles trembling with the effort. The train resists, its weight challenging my resolve, but I refuse to succumb—the skin, muscle, flesh, and bone in my body tears. The agony begins at my legs, where the Bloody Palm fights to create the meat while it races its way up my body, ripping apart my back, shoulders, and fleshy arm. Even the prosthetic limb created by Earl creaks and groans under my countless enhancements.
Each agonizing moment feels like an eternity, as I fight against the torrential assault. Finally, with a surge of raw determination, as I see people inside doing all they can to help, the train responds to my unyielding grip. It begins to sway back, its wheels clawing against the soaked tracks as if desperate to regain its balance.
Yet, it is only starting to sway back, somewhat paused in the wind by the contention of forces. So, silently grunting without even an exhale, I pull some more, digging deep as the constant grinding at my legs, now that my feet are gone, endeavors to make me faint.
Amidst that pain, however, the memory of Marshall rages with a fire, my vision gaining clarity despite the blood loss. For months I've tried to learn Painsforge, his most incredible skill. A Dzil. And only as I feel my body tear apart from every which way as I try to save everyone do I begin to understand.
Painsforge has nothing to do with pain being power. No... Pain is the hammer, the attack the anvil, and I am the blade. Those beats of Marshall's heart... they weren't an ordinary glimpse of power. They weren't a warning or a way to show off. They weren't even the death throes of a legendary man.
My Ether coils in my heart, every beat of pain consolidating it as it loses my focus, becoming a tangible vessel of pain. On its own, left away from my own hands and trusted only by my will, the Ether turns gaseous, twists, churns, and boils with power, preparing to fill me with a force that only grows with every piece of flesh stripped off or muscle torn. The pain is what tightens the force into a usable medium.
Those heartbeats...
They were a hint.
*************
Wyatt Graves
As the tempestuous storm closes in, its rage unfurling like a wrathful deity incurred by a man who struck at it, I race through the desolate streets behind the ruined Bent to reach the Steam Train and its station. The ominous black clouds loom overhead, casting an omnipresent darkness upon the fortressed city turned mostly to rubble. Each step I take is punctuated by the relentless rain, soaking me to the bone as if nature itself conspires against my escape in vengeance for the Unyielding Wall's hand that conjured its unending fury.
Beside me hurtles Blake, Virgil, Earl, Primrose, and the rest of the team that fought inside Bent, including a few soldiers we found along the way. Sadly, however, no soldier below the 4th Sigil seems to have survived the hurricane unleashed by Marshall. Either that, or they escaped in time. I hope it's the latter.
My heart pounds in my chest, matching the rhythm of thunder that reverberates through the air. The wind howls like a chorus of mournful spirits, driving me onward with an urgency fueled by both fear and desperation. Even the wind alone pushes me forward, the velocity enough that Ether is required to not fly away into the sky, never to be seen again. I really hope Bonfire was found by Johnny. The dumbass literally flew away by the winds like an umbrella.
Yet ahead, the lights bursting out the sides of a large steel contraption gives me some solidity of mind—the Steam Train. Nothing in the world meets its size and craftsmanship. The train, our fleeting sanctuary, beckons in the distance. Just a bit further!
Rapid and fleeting breaths continually exit my lungs as I struggle to keep up, my Ether reaching my limit with a crippling headache threatening to send me to the ground. Yet, I force myself forward as I see a particular animal peek out from a window of the train, a bark signaling me ahead. Dakota. I'm thankful Elizabeth wanted him to stay with her today. Typically, the fox joins my training against Tomas.
As I draw nearer, the sight that greets me is one of both relief and trepidation. The platform is teeming with soldiers, their weary faces etched with determination and resolve. Many of them are the lower Sigiled I was worrying about earlier, but the number is far too low. Hundreds, close to a thousand Base Sigiled, were once stationed in Bent, and now, I see at most a hundred. And even worse? Among them, only a dozen are Wondrous. At least we have the two 4ths and 5ths that we found on our sprint back.
At the same time, as I get even closer, more details emerge on the train I've never genuinely examined or gotten proximate to before. Marshall always said it'd be a waste of time as even a dunce could operate it. But the view of the train fills me with rushing blood despite my exhaustion. The train carriages are laden with an arsenal of weapons, an ominous reminder of what just occurred and the impending battles to come. A gatling gun adorns nearly every window; meanwhile, atop the train sits tiny bunkers with large rifles inside them, built for Angel-killing.
Stepping amidst the throng of soldiers rushing onto the train, I see wounded comrades being carried and supported by their fellow fighters. Their pained expressions bear witness to the toll of battle, their bodies battered and broken. Curses and sorrows ring aloud under the rain as many soldiers rush into the walls of the train while steam begins to bellow out from the front. A piercing wail joins the cloud that is rapidly torn apart by the rain, and Virgil shows me a faster way inside.
He runs along the side of the train, kicking off the side and grappling the top of it before swinging himself over. Once upon the top of the train, he shouts to me.
"C'mon! We can't waste time! Let the wounded use the door!"
Nodding, I follow him, climbing up the train swiftly as Blake, Primrose, and Skyswain follow. Abraham is ripped up by a tendril of Virgil while Frozen and Clusmy hobble into the train from injuries. Earl makes it up to us as well, but Primrose throws him down the hatch on the top within a bunker as Elizabeth screams over the storm for his help with the train.
Only a few more seconds pass before everyone is on board, and the winds descend into insanity. I'm forced to grab onto the bunker of the train as the tempests pick up even further in speed. Glancing up, the sky is entirely dark.
What did Marshall do?
Skyswain screams over the thunder raging not far away, the lightning easily visible.
"Are we leaving!? I don't see Johnny or Bonfire!?"
She makes me gaze outward, and I comb through the field that leads to the crumbled fortress of Bent. Yet, I don't see a lick of chains that would indicate that someone is there. Come on! Where are you guys!
Another few seconds pass, and no one shows either. Elizabeth must be waiting. Come on, Johnny. Come on!
Another few seconds pass, and the winds fall even further to depravity as a sudden gust rips the bunker I was holding onto into the air.
"Fuck!"
Screaming, I fly into the air, weightlessness beneath my feet, but a chilly sensation encompasses my feet before I slam heavily into the steel top of the train.
"Get the fuck inside!"
Virgil, my savior, yells at the top of his lungs, shoving Skyswain and Abraham inside while Primrose slides herself in through a window. Lunging forward with my arm, I create a Leash that drags me in with the help of Virgil, the rain cascading over me like a torrential waterfall. Each inch I move feels heavier as if the weight of the whole storm bears down upon me. The chaos around me is deafening, the shouts and cries of men mingling with the crashing thunder.
After several seconds of strife, I haul myself through the hatch, and the moment I fall inside, landing roughly on the floor, someone closes it. Then, a thousand voices seem to inundate me as the train is packed. Bodies press against each other every which way as I struggle even to breathe. I get only a moment to investigate the train from the inside, and it nearly blows my mind.
The train's intricate design captivates me, every detail meticulously crafted with precision, even as I'm shoved left and right by people passing through. Gleaming brass adornments glint under the pale glow of the gas lamps, casting an ethereal radiance upon the platform. The aroma of coal and steam permeates the air, intermingling with the faint scent of oil and metal and somehow fighting against the stifling odor of rain. The rhythmic hiss and clank of the machinery echo throughout the carriages, a symphony of mechanical prowess that outdoes even my right arm.
I find myself in awe of the train's interior, a sheltered and cramped expanse of polished wood and plush seats; only the wood is now weathered and the seats bloody. The windows, made of a peculiar transparent material, offer a glimpse of the world outside, distorted by the raindrops cascading down the glass. Some windows, however, are open, treading the wind and water inside.
The sight of the weapons lining the walls of the train attracts my attention the most as I gather my bearings. Rifles, pistols, and blades of various shapes and sizes stand as silent sentinels. Yet, I can't waste too much time being enraptured by the craftsmanship of Eli Weiss. I need to know what's happening.
So, I endeavor to reach Virgil, the man only a few feet away, but a shout, one enunciated by Ether from Millie, stops everyone in their panicked tracks.
"ABRAHAM! CAN YOU GET JOHNNY!"
The voice, bouncing off every steel wall with an echo, is caught by Abraham, and he returns it with the answer I'm expecting.
"---"
Mentally. Abraham answers mentally, of course, but I meet eyes with him a moment after his answer, and he delivers the result to me.
"I can get Johnny and Bonfire one at a time if they fall asleep. Millie took that as good enough, and we're about to. You... might want to grab onto something."
Nodding, I take his advice. Johnny should be fine. I'm more worried about Bonfire, but Abraham can conjure him with Daymare, the easiest of us all. So, I trudge through the bodies of soldiers and the escaping staff of Bent as I endeavor not to worsen any of the woundeds' conditions.
Half a dozen seconds pass of my careful movement before I reach the window, latching my hands onto the steel of the train as the rain continues to downpour. Puddles gather at our feet, but they are minor and are sloshed out by drains at the bottom. My grip feels firm, the frigid metal apparent under both my fleshy and bronze hands.
A thrust almost knocks me over as the wind continues to pick up, a strike coming from the window and blasting me heavily in the face. I nearly fall backward from surprise as the train moves. The loud wail from the steel rises in volume before it almost drones out the rain.
And as the massive vehicle moves, the scenery begins to change, shifting beyond my sight similar to that of a carriage but only faster. And it only continues to accelerate, the screeching steel growing louder.
But with every passing second, the storm intensifies, unleashing its fury upon the world. The gusting winds threaten to rip the train from its path, the driving rain that joins the winds blurring my vision. Yet, the weight of the train holds it down, preventing the liftoff of us all. Still, that doesn't mean panic doesn't arise. Screams flow all around me as the vehicle we ride bounces and shakes terribly. Meanwhile, my hands tighten upon the window sill in anticipation as a body joins beside me. Virgil.
"Relax. This girl weighs tons. There is no way a storm can pick it up."
I twist my head, even as the wind whips at my neck from the open windows. As the train hurtles forward through the unrelenting storm, I find myself clinging desperately to the window frame, my fingers gripping it with white-knuckled intensity. The tempestuous winds whip and howl outside, unleashing their fury upon the speeding locomotive, telling me that Virgil may not be right.
There is nothing I can do if he's wrong, however, but I'd like to know how he thinks of this.
"You sure? Did Earl tell you that?"
Virgil shakes his head, slamming his back against the wall as a bump riddles the whole carriage with a bolt of force. Fucking hell. What is happening!? Are Jonnhy and Bonfire okay? This is... this is no storm!
"No... he didn't. I just--"
The once gentle rain reforges itself constantly into a relentless deluge, hammering against the windowpanes with an uncompromising force that grows with every minute. Rivulets of water cascade down the glass around me, blurring the world beyond into a swirling haze of darkness and chaos; meanwhile, before me, blades of water tear into my flesh, cutting small lines of blood with their passion.
But in a sudden, gut-wrenching moment, as I listen to Virgil, a monstrous jolt rocks the entire train, ripping me away from my tenuous grasp. Time slows as I am propelled towards the window, a fleeting glimpse of light inside before I am flung out into the tempestuous abyss.
My body hurtles through the torrential rain and howling winds, a mere speck in the vast, swirling chaos. Darkness engulfs me as I tumble through the stormy void, the world spinning in a disorienting blur. Instinctively, Liberation fills my weary body and mind, the bits of time delivering me enough leeway to use such a skill.
Time slows to a crawl, no, less than that, as a bolt of lightning hangs in the air far beyond my sight, dyeing the world with a glimpse of light. Raindrops hang suspended like glistening diamonds from the lightning's rays, and the deafening roar of the tempest becomes a haunting silence.
In this suspended moment, my mind races for anything to yank me back inside; my body is almost twenty feet from the train as it moves inches away from me gradually. Even in this slowed time, it progresses. The radiance of the lightning strike allows me to examine my situation, and I find that I am not the only one flung out of the train. Not only that, but Virgil is leaning out of the window, already grasping toward me with tendrils of shade.
Additionally, the entire back half of the train is suspended a man's height into the air. The side of the rearmost carriage is dented heavily from something. Either an attacker, or a piece of Bent that was flung all the way over here. Regardless, it's a perilous thing for everyone inside the train, including me.
Should the train tip over and crash... so many will die from the impact alone, and that's dismissing the storm afterward. I need to do something. But what? What the hell can I possibly do?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
A chill creeps into my shoulders as I realize the responsibility. They will all die if I don't stop this. Perhaps Tomas and Virgil can survive the crash through their toughness and Flicker, respectively, but everyone else will, beyond a shadow of a doubt, either die from the impact or the watery winds.
What do I do?
Think! Think, dammit!
If only--
NO! Earl is not here to help. I'm running out of time! THINK!
Okay, okay, okay, do as Earl says.
Break it down—brick by brick. Disassemble, reassemble, do.
I'm in the air.
I'm low on Ether.
A half dozen others are in the air.
And the back of the train is damaged, tipped, and several feet above the tracks.
First... the train is most important. Virgil can... probably get a few of those people. That means I need to focus on the train. But how? How can I get it back on the tracks?
I'm fast expending my time in Liberation as blood streams into and down my nose, my limit approaching. But I need to focus not on the consequences but on the solutions.
One more thing of Ether is all I got in me, maybe two if I truly stretch it.
With only two skills, how do I pull something back to the ground?
A duo of Leashes.
The idea blooms even as I want to toss it away. It's foolish. It's stupid. It's nigh-suicidal to stop rerail a train with your bare hands. But... I don't have to stop the train; I just have to get it back on track and onto the ground. Worse case, I'll pass out after succeeding, and Abraham can Daymare me back inside.
Okay... two Leashes.
Affirming my plan, I mentally speak to the Bloody Palm.
"I need help. A lot of it, and I'm not entirely sure how this will go, so be ready for anything!"
I don't wait for confirmation as it worked before, and I let Liberation fade as two Leashes form in each of my arms. Then, I scream aloud as fast as possible, whipping both Leashes toward the back of the speeding train.
"GET THE OTHERS!"
Again, I don't wait for a reply as I, using mainly the strength of my prosthetic while the train moves forward, rip myself to the back of the train, flying through the air. Then, a cluster of fleshy tendrils flows from my left arm down my body until they latch onto the ground pulling me down as they are near instantly stripped away by the train's velocity.
A grunt of pain comes from the Bloody Palm, but the artifact senses the urgency and steps up to the challenge. More and more flesh rips me to the ground as the train car flies through the air, dragging more and more of the train into the air as they threaten to slam into the ground.
Screaming as the Bloody Palm and I make contact with the ground, I realize this is the most dangerous thing I've ever done.
Fuck it. Earl has extra Serums. I'll probably live long enough to get one.
Breathing in more profoundly than ever before, my mind blares with unimaginable pain that almost reduces me to nothing but blackness. But I refuse to fall as I Release my legs and knees while simultaneously doing everything I possibly can to enhance myself, the Bloody Palm doing the same.
Then, my boots slam into the train tracks, instantly shredding my flesh and breaking my bones. The agony spears dots into my vision as the Bloody Palm replaces the meat, creating five pounds for every single one that turns to gore.
The next things to break are my Leashes, the constructs of Ether far too weak to hold an entire train. Yet, I'm not alone. The Bloody Palm wraps flesh around the rear of the train as I see a Nightmare of Abraham's appear, using a lasso to attach onto me as well.
Then finally, my force seems to matter, a pressure ripping its way through my body a single moment before the first train car crashes into the ground.
Straining against the fury of the elements, I pull with all my might, my muscles trembling with the effort. The train resists, its weight challenging my resolve, but I refuse to succumb—the skin, muscle, flesh, and bone in my body tears. The agony begins at my legs, where the Bloody Palm fights to create the meat while it races its way up my body, ripping apart my back, shoulders, and fleshy arm. Even the prosthetic limb created by Earl creaks and groans under my countless enhancements.
Each agonizing moment feels like an eternity, as I fight against the torrential assault. Finally, with a surge of raw determination, as I see people inside doing all they can to help, the train responds to my unyielding grip. It begins to sway back, its wheels clawing against the soaked tracks as if desperate to regain its balance.
Yet, it is only starting to sway back, somewhat paused in the wind by the contention of forces. So, silently grunting without even an exhale, I pull some more, digging deep as the constant grinding at my legs, now that my feet are gone, endeavors to make me faint.
Amidst that pain, however, the memory of Marshall rages with a fire, my vision gaining clarity despite the blood loss. For months I've tried to learn Painsforge, his most incredible skill. A Dzil. And only as I feel my body tear apart from every which way as I try to save everyone do I begin to understand.
Painsforge has nothing to do with pain being power. No... Pain is the hammer, the attack the anvil, and I am the blade. Those beats of Marshall's heart... they weren't an ordinary glimpse of power. They weren't a warning or a way to show off. They weren't even the death throes of a legendary man.
My Ether coils in my heart, every beat of pain consolidating it as it loses my focus, becoming a tangible vessel of pain. On its own, left away from my own hands and trusted only by my will, the Ether turns gaseous, twists, churns, and boils with power, preparing to fill me with a force that only grows with every piece of flesh stripped off or muscle torn. The pain is what tightens the force into a usable medium.
Those heartbeats...
They were a hint.
