Infamy

Mythal wasn’t sure if this was going to result in a riot or not.

It was almost all hands on deck when it came to this particular event. Several higher ranking Rune Knights had been asked (or rather ordered) by the Magic Council to act as security for the coming press conference. One of the political delegates with ties to the Council was presenting a new, more social constructive idea for how to deal with dark wizards. This Archibald VanderBeld believed that even the worst criminals could be reformed into upstanding, law-abiding citizens. His regiment wasn’t just targeted to people who had caused minor disturbances either; he earnestly believed that even hardened murderers could be saved.

It was… a really innocent way of looking at the world, in Mythal’s view. While he did appreciate the enthusiasm that the statesman had for the process, he believed it came from a worldview that had never dealt with the muck. Like most politicians involved in the Council and it’s proceedings, VanderBeld was most likely a noble or inheritor of a family name – after all, a surname like that wasn’t befitting someone in a lower class. And perhaps he didn’t put himself on a pedestal because of his upbringing but he certainly didn’t understand how the world worked. Either that or he was horribly misunderstood. Criminals could be reformed, of course – Albafica was one such example of dark wizard that had corrected his ways. And the Darkness King wasn’t personally above giving second chances. But to focus solely on the capture and reformation of criminals was dangerous. It paved the way for several more intelligent parties to abuse the system to avoid capital punishment. And there were those that didn’t deserve it.

The Rune Knights as a whole seemed split down the middle over the subject as well. But that didn’t keep them from their duties and when the Magic Council brought down an order, it was meant to be followed. Mythal had been one of the unfortunate few to be singled out to participate – apparently Serilda’s duties were required elsewhere and he was to take the lead on the event. It was something he had thought to argue against – not because he felt he couldn’t handle the task. But between the two of them, Serilda had the more… well-behaved Seal.

Mythal shifted slightly from where he stood, sliding over his shoulder to his back so he was leaning outwards against the doorframe. The constituents, reporters, delegates and other such important figures were walking about the area, talking excitedly to one another. It was actually a bit of a relief to be looked over by the masses for once – it was probably because he was sporting a regular Rune Knight outfit. He’d found a simple yet fitting uniform that matched the rest of the general Knight populace, essentially blending him in with the rest of his soldiers. It was a ruse to keep anyone that may have been overly chatty, or perhaps worse, from noticing he was the one in charge. With the hat pulled down and his hair pulled back underneath it, he didn’t even resemble the normal Mythal people were used to seeing.

To be fair, he hated it. He was far more comfortable in his own clothes. But given the choice between being noticed and not, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He glanced over at the main room, where the statesman would shortly be making his presentation. People were starting to slowly work their way towards the doors, in anticipation for the coming conference. But not as quickly as one might expect – it seemed the promise of hor d'oeuvres and idle chitchat was far more interesting. As he scanned the room, he heard the materialization of magic before he actually laid eyes on the figure that was Lux.

“Look at you all snazzy and dressed up. Bet Serilda loves a man in uniform,” Lux said, rolling his tongue in insinuation.

“Not the reason, Lux but thanks for the unnecessary comments,” Mythal responded, uninterested in the Lightbringer’s antics.

“It’s cool, I get what you’re going for.” And with that, the Seal waved his hand over himself and changed his outfit to that of a perfect replica of a Rune Knight outfit. It would have been convincing if he wasn’t incorporeal. A few people stopped chatting to look over at him, their quizzical looks amusing Lux. He tipped his hat gently to them. “No need to panic, sirs and madams. I am the ghost of Vice Commander Admiral Roland of the General Commanding Squadron. Let’s all have a good time, talk down those pesky dark wizards and then all go out for milkshakes!” The small group nearby grumbled to one another and moved away, flashing glares back at the Lightbringer. Lux turned to Mythal and giggled. “See, I can play the role too.”

“Ya know, yer the last thing I need right now, Lux,” Mythal growled shaking his head. “How about you just go back into your hidey hole before I force you?”

“Yeeesh, your panties are knotted today, pal. All that anger and angst is gonna do a number on your body. Well, my body once I get my hands on it.” Lux stood there for a moment longer before he flashed out of existence once more, leaving Mythal alone.

But the Lightbringer didn’t exact retreat to where he lived. In fact, he had quickly moved himself out of the Darkness King’s eyesight and started to wander the back halls. More Rune Knights were posted back here, all along the doorways and entrances. Upon seeing Lux, most of them rolled their eyes and kept up their positions. At this point, they knew the Lightbringer was more of a pest than anything else – a talking mouth that had no bite. But they weren’t the ones he was looking for, despite his outfit. No, he was far more interested in finding this supposed statesman that had this ridiculous agenda.

Saving dark wizards. Saving humanity all in all but trying to save the enemy? He simply couldn’t understand it. If they were the enemy, then they had to die. It was moments like this that Lux was reminded why humans were such pitiful, broken creatures. They had all these lines and rules and laws that they tell you not to cross and when you do, there’s supposed to be punishment. But this new guy wanted to not only give them a slap on the wrist, he wanted to help educate the lawbreakers on how to be better and not break laws. “Like giving a crying baby candy,” Lux mumbled to himself. No matter the case, Lux had every intention of trolling the man until he got on stage. It wasn’t like anyone could actually stop him. Plus it would be hilarious if Mythal got in trouble for that.

But no one looked… statesman-y enough. They all looked like staff workers or Rune Knights. As he came back from the way he came, he noticed one woman preparing the podium. That had to be some kind of personal assistant right? Probably the man’s side piece, if he were to guess. “Hey sugar tits,” Lux said as he approached the blonde assistant while she was preparing the stage. “I’m looking for… uh… damn, what was his name again? Senator… Arch… Archi-blah blah Van WeinerBelt. The guy making the speech. Where’s he at? I have.. uh… I have an important message from the Grand Viceroy of the Rune Knights,” he explained, tapping the metaphysical badge on his lapel. “I’m a Rune Knight. The ghost of one.”

Had Lux been on any type of guard at all – or perhaps if he had more of his power back – he may have been more wary of the girl at the podium. Invulnerability had treated him to quite the decent handicap when it came to dangerous situations, save for the single time that Mythal had been able to manhandle him. But to this day, he hadn’t found anyone else that could lay a literal finger on him or truly understand his existence. He had been explained to numerous Rune Knights within the headquarters but there was still an air of almost misunderstanding. Probably because the God Slayer refused to put any more than the bare minimum of explanations out there.

But some random chick that was a minister’s assistant? She shouldn’t have mattered or been informed in the least bit. If anything, the Lightbringer was waiting for the girl’s face to contort and for her to scream. Then the rest of the room would turn and stare at him and he’d try to explain it away and then Mythal would be forced to intervene. And during that commotion, Lux would have time to slip away and find the senator while the Darkness King made a decent ass of himself. So it came as a bit of a surprise when this woman did not scream but in fact looked up at him with a smile that could curdle dairy. Was she amused? Even the basest of women would have been insulted as his words.

But before he could even think to question her, she spoke – spoke his literal existence to him, like they were old friends. If his blood was capable of chilling, it would have gone frozen right there and then. Who was this woman? How did she know him? Was she another Sealbearer? It seemed impossible, given that he would have picked up on such nonsense the minute he was in the room. He quickly glanced out towards the crowd, now thicker with bodies than before. He didn’t have enough power to make this woman disappear without notice and that was a bigger show of drama than he was ready to handle.

If his blood was already ice, then it nearly went permafrost when she continued, apparently amused at the prospect of a plan. One that he had kept in the deepest recesses of his mind, one that he had only begun laying seeds for in an offhanded, almost casual manner. His eyes widened slightly as she easily pulled it from his mind and used it as a means of teasing him. Granted, she seemed all too delighted at the prospect, given the way she grinned, giggled and bit her lip at him. Was she actually… aroused at the prospect? Lux knew there were insensible humans out there but he hadn’t met one that was so depraved to date. She wanted to see what he was capable of, when his plan went into fruition. A strong part of him still wanted to dash her guts over the wall to protect himself. But another small part of him was actually… entertained. Interested. Maybe even curious to what such a show would entail.

He remained silent as she took one last moment to check the podium and assured him that giving the senator a hard time was already fulfilled. He didn’t miss the devious treble in her voice as she spoke of it, a line of venom that only the most practiced would be able to pick up on. She turned to him and approached, making to put her hands on him. A humorous move and he was actually ready to laugh the minute her hands passed through his body as easily as fog. But of all the things that had happened in quick succession to shock him, feeling her hands suddenly touch his sides was the top of the list. A quick shade of utter shock rushed over his features as she leaned in close, trying to swiftly adjust to this new sensation. She told him to find a spot to watch and, as her eyes flickered to amber, she assured him that his secret was safe with her.

With a parting wink, she assumed her ruse once more, departing past him with a trailing of her finger on his chest. Then like that, she was walking off the stage, the mortal woman that apparently was blessed – or cursed – with knowledge and abilities only few could. He turned slowly to watch her go, his eyes trailing over her body now with more study than disrespect. As hard as it was to believe, he actually had a shred of respect for this woman, in spite of her aggressive touching and confident words. That and her ass was downright popping – even if he didn’t quite have the drive most mortal men do, he could still appreciate a fine piece of art when it was presented to him.

But she clearly had something nefarious planned. In his excitement, he zapped off the stage and appeared next to Mythal, just as the brunt of the crowds were beginning to file in. “Mythal, you will never guess what just happened—“

“Oh gods, don’t you have a corner you can go and stroke your ego in?” the Darkness King grumbled, doing his best to stick to his duties of ushering people inside.

“No, listen. There was—“

“Lux, shove it!” Mythal hissed fiercely at the Lightbringer. “For once in your goddamn life, cut the shit and stop annoyin’ me and e’ryone around you!” It seemed the God Slayer had reached his breaking point with the Seal, having dealt with his quips and paper bullets for some time now. There had been plenty of times that Lux had some shred of decency; showing almost empathy at Mythal’s duties and leaving him be. But apparently that moment of time was gone and Mythal was having none of it.

Lux’s words fell silent as he stared the God Slayer. After a moment, he scoffed and put on a small frown. “Fine. Shutting up.” The truth of it was, he had no problem telling his host what had just happened. While a part of him was more than curious to see what the woman had planned, his excitement over her very existence was far more important – at least to him. A person that could read him and touch him? That was worth talking about. But it seemed Mythal was going to have none of that and frankly… Lux wasn’t sure why he was trying to say anything. It was almost borderline doing the right thing. What had the Darkness Slayer even done for him, other than disrespect him, insult him, admonish his very existence? While a completely strange woman had been courteous, respectful and even flirtatious with him. Almost like she wanted him to exist.

So why should he ruin her plans? He glanced back over at the stage, unable to see her but now sensing her with more awareness than before. “Your secret is safe with me,” he repeated her words, an angered but wicked smirk pulled on his lips as he stepped away from Mythal. He set himself up near the corner of the room, easily merging into the crowds despite his ghostly looks. From here, he could see the stage fully and without hindrance.

Once the speech began, Mythal was able to relax… if only slightly. Several Rune Knights were posted near the backstage area, in case anyone decided to make a run from the rear or even from the front. Though as calm as he looked, his senses were still prepared for someone to do something stupid. And now that Lux wasn’t bothering him, he could focus properly. The senator’s speech was about what he expected – paying tribute and respect to the workings of the Rune Knights and other officials. Slowly but surely he moved towards his intended message, the reformation of the criminal justice system. He never made such bold statements as that but his intent for offering alternatives to punishment may as well have been their own bill. It was full of brevity and strength of conviction… but slowly the words began to drain from the God Slayer’s attention. There was a sensation in him that he couldn’t quite expel. Not quite a knowing but a feeling that something wasn’t right. As his focus shifted inwards, he felt a connection he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t dark – in fact, it was the epitome of light. But it felt wrong, warped and malicious. It was the connection between him and Lux.

Why he was feeling it now, he couldn’t say. But as he focused on it, he could feel the Seal’s emotions. Anger, pride… but amusement and excitement as well. The giddy, stomach tumbling feeling of waiting for something amazing to happen. As his eyes refocused themselves, he looked over at the Lightbringer. He was leaning against the wall; a wicked, expectant grin plastered over his face. Awareness hit him nearly as hard as the sudden pressure from the podium disintegrating but not nearly fast enough. He was pushed back a step as the stage erupted in a quick detonation, leaving nothing but ash and viscera. The senator was gone – dead before he even understood what was happening. The first few rows of the crowd had been painted in his ichor, the utter shock of what had happened creating a terrible moment of silence.

But then came the chaos. Everyone was running everywhere, trying to escape through any means possible. Acting as quickly as he could, Mythal turned and kicked open the door to the hallway, creating a siphoning point for the river of screaming men and women. At the same time, he snapped his hand out and cast a dark wall in front of the stage, cutting off the scene of the crime from the hungry eyes and cameras of the reporters present. “Knights, seal up the exits on the ground floor. No one gets in or out unless I say so. Find the people that were in the front rows and take them to private rooms to get cleaned up,” he ordered over his iLac. He didn’t wait for confirmation before he summoned some of the shadows from the wall to well beneath him. He fell into it and focused the exit point right beside Lux.

The Lightbringer was chuckly softly to himself when Mythal appeared, stepping out of the wall beside him. His humor was quickly cutoff by the Darkness Slayer’s hand rushing up and pressing against his chest, flattening him against the wall. The anger brimming off the Darkness King was palpable, his power even stronger than it had been in Vintermyr. Anyone that could sense magic within the entire building was sure to feel it… and yet Lux had the pleasure of facing it head on.

“What did you do?!” Mythal demanded, hissing between clenched teeth. Lux didn’t answer, staring back at the human with almost disinterest. When Mythal pushed him a bit harder, causing cracks to form in the plaster behind him, the Seal grunted. “What did you do, Lux?!”

The Lightbringer cocked his head slightly, looking skyward in the half-hearted attempt to look like he was thinking. “I just did exactly what you told me, pal. I cut the shit. And by doing so, you’ve now got ninety five percent of a dead senator. Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s still time to save his legs,” the Seal said with a wicked grin.

If this had been Lux, he would have owned up to it. He wouldn’t play coy about it. But he did know something. “Who did it? Tell me!” Mythal insisted, his fingers pressing against the spirit’s body dangerously.

Lux chuckled softly as he shook his head. “Sorry, Mythal. But I believe someone mentioned a corner I should go stroke my ego in. Frankly, I have a few things I might be stroking now,” the Seal said with a cackle. “But if I were a bettin’ man, I would look for someone with just the most spankable ass.” And then, in a flash of light, Lux disappeared.

Leaving the fuming Mythal stunned beyond words.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

Mythal was angry, there was no doubt about that. His magic surged enough that anyone with a decent sense would pick up on the stronger vibe, even if it wasn’t his full bolster. Was he just angry at Lux or was he angry at himself? Truthfully, it was probably a mix. He’d been put in charge and now the senator was a fine red paste all over the stage and floor where he had been presenting. And while Lux had zero excuse to not tell him who was responsible, there was an understanding that he had pushed too far. The Lightbringer was an easy target because he was constantly at odds with the Darkness King. He consistently spoke against him, made snide remarks and veiled threats… by now, Mythal was more used to having Lux as a punching bag than anything else. Yet this time had been different. What terrible luck was it to have it be now…

But he couldn’t worry about that. Time was ticking away for the perp to get away. What had Lux said before he disappeared? Someone with a spankable ass; that wasn’t going to help Mythal very much. His attraction to humans was so limited that finding anyone with an ass he could appreciate would be rarified. And chances are, they wouldn’t be the one who caused this mess. He spun away from the wall, his eyes trailing over the heads of the people as they filed out of the room. No one was sticking out of course; why did he expect anything less? He was half-turned and ready to check backstage when the crowd dissipated enough to show off someone on the ground. A man lying flat, unmoving. The Rune Knight general practically leapt from point A to point B, squatting down and turning the man over onto his back.

Thankfully he wasn’t dead – that would have made things that much worse. Was he just an unfortunate victim of the mob of fleeing citizens? A quick inventory of the man’s features and clothes told a different story. He had some equipment that a normal citizen wouldn’t have and his shirt was emblazoned with a symbol from a news company. A cameraman then but he was missing his camera. Mythal looked around for the shattered pieces of the camera, sure that it had been trampled. But there was no sign of it; neither whole or broken. That was suspicious. He got to his feet just as another sound caught his attention. Video screens were still operating just behind the scrim of the stage, though they had been filled with the sounds of screaming citizens only moments ago. Now there was something different… a woman’s voice.

At first she sounded like a newscaster, relaying her sorrow for the events that had just taken place. But then there was the inevitable ‘we’ as she turned the subject on herself, remarking as one of the dark wizards that the senator had wanted to help reform. Mythal practically flew to the stage, tearing the curtain back so he could lay eyes on the villain who very clearly was boasting about her achievement. There she stood, smug and smoldering with the camera framing her dark-haired form. She spoke to the camera and to the thousands of viewers beyond with calm and collected thoughts. Her preaching was almost the exact opposite of Vander Beld’s; damning the thought of reformation and spitting on the former man’s thoughts and presentation. She even had the gall to smile at her own words, vile venom dripping from the corners of her lips as she spoke. This had been a message… to the Council… to him… to all of the Rune Knights. They didn’t want to be saved.

And if her words and previous actions weren’t enough, she decided to punctuate her point with another example. Her magic extended off of her as the camera panned down to the people in the lobby, their forms jerking and slowing from the life energy that was taken from them. And from it came an inky plasma that covered the entirety of the ground. Monstrosities began to climb up from the pits of the spell, their wretched hands reaching for the closest person to grab and drag them into the abyss. The panicked cries from before were nothing compared to the screams that filled the lobby as people attempted to retreat with renewed vigor.

Anger rose up quickly in Mythal, like a lava flow rushing to the surface of a volcano. His crimson gems seemed to crack and twist slightly, trying their hardest to form into a continuous spiral that came with his dark form. Indeed, he could feel the scratching fingers against the lenses of his eyes as his other side attempted to take control once more. Somehow he managed to keep him at bay while he erupted from the ground, the full force of his magic ebbing off of him like a suffocating fog. He exploded into the lobby with such force that the doorway he had blown through incinerated instantly. Darkness erupted from the walls all around the lobby, punching holes in the painted walls as easily as water through paper. The mass of darkness flowed to the walls and dissolved the barrier keeping the people inside, freeing an escape route.

At the same time, Mythal was already bursting into action. Curse came forward, unfolding instantly into a full scythe as he swung low to the ground and cleaved several of the creatures in twain. Tendrils of darkness surged out from the walls, stabbing and battering the encroaching hands that emerged from the pool on the ground. The Darkness King created a platform underneath the crowds to lift them from the ground, giving them temporary sanctuary. With a great heave, he sent Curse soaring forward like a deadly bola. One of his tendrils snapped out and grabbed it, catching it at its end so that it continued to spin. Then, much like a mower, the tendril dragged the scythe all over the floor and cleft any limb or body that dared try and claw its way out.

Black, smoky wings erupted out from Mythal’s back as he turned and looked skywards to Thana, his dark appendages a polar opposite of her vibrant angelic ones. “Message received,” he growled as his power pulsed once more. The wall of darkness he had created began to grow taller, rising up to the very ceiling of the room. Black growths began to push out from the miasma, forming into cylinders all along the barrier. Purple light began to compile within the holes, glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second. Mythal never took his eyes off of Thana as he signaled the culmination of his spell with a single statement. “No mercy then.” And with that, the cannons exploded, launching blasts of darkstarlight at the enemy. It was a full artillery barrage that held nothing back; even the building itself would be damaged from the onslaught.

But with any luck, it would decimate the woman that had proven herself unworthy of shackles or compassion.

Whoever this terrorist was, something was wrong with her. In a better state of mind, at a point where his emotions weren’t running in a torrential tunnel of fury, he may have given himself pause right before he unloaded the full capacity of the dark cannons. There had been few before that had been excited over the prospect of fighting him, only a handful that had shown some kind of excitement over the prospect of punishment. But even as the beams of darkstarlight blasted out of the turrets and crashed down upon her, something felt wrong in his stomach. It wasn’t the action itself; no amount of guilt was going to try and weigh down his erasing this villain from the world. But it was akin to uncomfortableness with the entirety of the person he was looking at. As if the very existence was wrong.

As his fury came to an end and the cannon fire gave way to eerie, haunting silence. He waited as the dust began to fall away, his magical senses already confirming that she was, in fact, still alive. She was tougher than she looked, that was for sure. As she came back into view, she looked about as badly as he expected. But she didn’t have the look of one in pain – in fact, it was a look eerily similar to one’s he had received from Serilda. Was she… getting off on this? Even as the blood trickled down her extremities and dripped to the floor, even as her skin puckered and darkened from bruises; she held the same, deeply, carnally excited stare. Her own viscera was swiftly lapped up by her tongue as she got to her feet, planting herself with new rigor. She spoke to him over the prospect of what good times they would have together. “You’ll be dead before I give ya a chance to enjoy it,” Mythal said simply, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The air around him began to darken, a blood red fog starting to seep into the atmosphere. He glanced around at it, taking a quick and sharp inhale of fresh air before it reached his own lungs. The choking and coughing from behind him drew his attention, as he realized several of the civilians had remained behind rather than flee. Whether it was morbid curiosity or they were injured from the stampede, he couldn’t quite tell. Either way, Curse flung itself backwards and began to spin wildly, creating a funnel of air. Its intensity was so strong that several of the people found themselves sliding along the flat surface of the floor and out of the massive hole he had created only moments ago. He wouldn’t be able to get them all – she wouldn’t let him. He just hoped that by saving just a few more, he was relieving her of extra targets.

But the mist had a secondary effect; the injuries he had already placed upon her began to heal. They weren’t full closures but it would allow her to move and fight without being held back. He drew his gaze back to her as she addressed him in a voice that would normally make him uncomfortable. But his anger, freshly renewed by her antics once more, pushed through the twisting odd feelings of attempted disgusting flirtation and allowed him to focus. Curse came back to him, continuing to spin wildly as he circled him, much like a moon to a planet. Then she was moving, launching herself from the balcony with all the power in her possession.

Yet she wasn’t herself anymore; no, her body flickered out of view for only a brief second before she became a literal monster. The body of a spider made up her lower half, its terrible legs expanding outwards and upping her movement a significant amount. Her skin drained of its natural tan and grayed out like a corpse as crimson gems opened up to meet his own. She came at him with the full intention of tackling him into the ground, apparently hoping that her newly-formed body would give her a boost in weight.

It was a bold strategy. An aura of shadow ignited around him as she closed him, temporarily masking him from sight. And she would feel a body get hit by her form, hands pressing against her lower abdomen. It slid along the ground and out of the smoke, revealing that it was Mythal. In fact, it wasn’t even human; a shadow creature as horrendously nightmarish as the drider woman herself. It snarled behind the wrappings on its mouth as it pressed its claws into her form. And from the overcast shadows of the balcony emerged Mythal, literally popping out of the ground like a gopher from a hole. Magic was already compressed within his hand and he snapped it out, quite literally releasing a snap and sending a beam of darkness right at the back of Thana’s spider-form.

As soon as his feet touched the solid floor, he was off once more – charging back into the battle. The Dark Guardian took a swing at Thana from the front, a cross meant to plant itself in her stomach. Mythal came in from the side, his gauntlet of darkness gracing his hand as he sought to slam it right into her ribcage. Curse swung around, the sharp edge of the scythe aimed for her back in an attempt to slice it open horizontally. The Dark Guardian melted into the outline of the Darkness King, cloaking him in an aura of darkness as he dashed below the drider body and pushed off the ground, sending himself upwards with an uppercut in an attempt to send her skyward. At the same time, he directed Curse to quickly change back to sword-form and come towards, its blade aimed for her chest so that her rising body would impale itself on the falling sword.

There was something to say about fighting someone with absolutely no fear. The impending death that awaited this terrorist – and there was little doubt that Mythal planned on killing her – seemed to only spur her forward in action. She wanted the punishment, she practically craved it on such a primal, carnal level that it was daunting to think of a way to truly make her feel pain and not enjoy it. But the Darkness King wasn’t thinking of ways of trying to circumvent her pleasure – he simply wanted to kill her dead. If she got a thrill out of it, he didn’t care.

The Dark Guardian held its ground against Thana, even as she pulled it close to her and took a sizable bite out of it. The gaping wound festered with shadow and miasma, spraying out in the form of wispy clouds. No doubt the woman, with a mouthful of the creature, would be beginning to taste the raw, unfiltered corruption that filled every denizen of Kingdom Darkness. While it wouldn’t be toxic enough to kill her, it was like to give pause and leave a bad aftertaste. Over a course of time, it would probably make her feel like she’d caught a pretty nasty bug. But even with a good portion of its body missing, the Dark Guardian was firm in its resilience.

Once Mythal acted, the woman seemed to split into several copies. That didn’t keep him from swiping his sword and launching his fist at the clones in an attempt to find the real her. And as he descended upon her, piercing her stomach with Curse, she only seemed to giggle maniacally at the action before she faded into nothingness. She’d used some kind of spell to enchant herself out of danger and leave distractions for him. For one so callously desiring pain, she sure was quick to duck for cover the minute she was put into real danger. That and no doubt she wanted to make this last.

The Dark Guardian faded off of Mythal, evaporating into a cloud of darkness. The Darkness Slayer remained alone for the moment before the woman’s laughter echoed out of the walls around him. She chided him over his ‘darkness’ and compared his attitude to that of Lux. Crimson orbs scanned the room as she revealed what he had already suspected; Lux had run into her and the Seal had opted to keep the content of that meeting to himself. Lightbringer or not, he was going to be punished for this – Mythal would ensure that. She turned her focus to Mythal, as if she was about to start a line of questioning that would get her nowhere. But instead, his world started to slip. The ground seemed to shift from side to side and his head felt like it had been pulled into a vice. He hissed and grabbed for his forehead, fighting back against the strange sensation. His focus was released momentarily and the darkness within bashed itself against his mental walls, causing his skin to crack over the left side of his face. Fragments of his flesh hovered centimeters, even inches above his face, revealing a pale skin beneath.

She started laughing and spoke of a wizard from Dies Irae. But it was only to lead into her discovery about the death of Gren. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and rage as he realized that the sensation had been her pulling information right from his mind. She then asked who Faera was, bringing forth a low growl from the Darkness King’s clenched teeth. It took her a moment to get the rest of the information, deigning to title him as a pet. She mused over how happy the Goddess would be if she were to bring Mythal to her. Or a woman of his. He sensed her return before he turned to face her, fighting against the world that continued to warp around him. But it wasn’t her anymore. It was Serilda, lacking any clothing and wearing the sick smirk that the terrorist seemed to relish in.

She mocked him, running her hands over herself and admiring it. She then mused about what she could do with that body; sneaking into the Rune Knights and getting anything she wanted. She even remarked about using the body for her own pleasurable reasons and opted to demonstrate what she meant. It was such mockery that Mythal was having a hard time keeping his own anger in check, keeping a sense of stability within the changing world and keeping his dark self behind the wall. All the cracks in his psyche were pressed to their limits all at once and one had to give or else he’d lose them all. So he did the only thing he could do.

He let his anger out. His right arm snapped out and sent Curse flying to the wall, impaling the blade in the barrier. The appendage remained out as magic began to form around his fingers and spread into a tangible form. At first it was only a handle but very quickly a long, sharp blade began to form and stretch out beyond him. By the time his magic had released the weapon to his grip, it was a full seven feet long. He looked at her, one half of his face wracked with his normal façade and the other half pale and gray. He stared at her with two different eyes; one crimson, one spiraling purple.

The long katana twisted in his hand for a brief moment before Mythal rushed at her. His other arm extended outwards and Curse viciously ripped itself from the wall and spun towards him, landing in his open hand. Now duel wielding two massively different sized weapons, he began his assault, swinging the weapons in tandem and coming in from all different directions. His magic burned around him with such intense pressure that the real world itself was beginning to bend; the stone beneath their feet and above depressed from the sheer strength of his aura. He was letting everything loose that he viably could without losing all control. If his other half came out, there was no telling what kind of damage he would cause just to end this woman’s life. At least with Mythal still in the driver’s seat…

It would only be Thana that died painfully.

His assault was as bloody as they come. He had invoked all the rage that was boiling up inside of him and let it loose, having let a spew of hatred overtake him in lieu of causing further damage. He could feel the darkness inside of him wailing against the barriers, slamming ethereal fists against the shield that Mythal had formed himself. The dark side of his wanted nothing more than to be set free; to punish this woman for not only her attack but the bravado she seemed to have along with it. She had put herself on display before a camera, made herself a scion and a voice for those that wanted chaos to reign above all. She even had the nerve to take the form of Serilda and mock him with it, using the body as both a plaything and a hypothetical means of getting information and entrance. The Darkness King was beyond done with this psychopath and his inner darkness felt it, demanding to be set free and be the one that passed judgement.

But Mythal had a long, detailed memory. He remembered what the transformed version of himself had done to Vintermyr. He could recall every moment of utter carnage and destruction and he could only watch as his other side had brought down a celestial rock from Kingdom Darkness to utterly destroy the icy home of the barbarians. Where Mythal had installed his own limits over aging and training, Dark Mythal had no such qualms about releasing everything. And here, in the center of Era, he couldn’t allow that. So he had let himself go, allowing his own anger to take the charge as he came down upon her, wielding blades from different realms. His swings were like poetry in motion, in spite of the wild fire that burned in his core. Slashes, stabs and swipes carved through her body like she was nothing more than a roast before the feast.

And she took it. He knew she would – she had baited him for the sake of her own pleasure. But that didn’t matter to him anymore. She could get herself off on the pain all she wanted – he had no intention of stopping until she was nothing but fleshy ribbons and a puddle of gore. It would be hard to explain why he had taken such drastic measures in an official report but once the entire situation was analyzed and looked over, no doubt no one would question why he had chosen to put her down. Showcasing her ability to shift her appearance only further solidified that fact.

She stood there throughout the assault, practically showered in her own blood and injuries seeping out fresh plasma all over. It was near when he began to swing harder, aim to carve limbs off, that she suddenly acted. The wails of a thousand voices thrown into pain filled the room, staying his arms and causing him to stumble backwards. He summoned his magic about him, using it as a buffer against the sound that could have very well burst unprotected ear drums. But doing so caused him to pause; to have to stand still and focus through the earsplitting noise. He barely noticed as she disappeared – or rather, when she swiftly shrunk down. She’d made herself smaller for the sake of slipping by him and for the moment, it had bought her precious time. If it hadn’t been for the sound causing him to halt his attack, she would have been sorely surprised that hitting a target, large or small, came very easily for the man who had trained with Curse for most of his life.

With his defensive spell completed and providing him a layer of protection, he spun around to find her shifting yet again. But this form wasn’t some amalgamation of creature and her body – it was far worse than that. The monster that rose up was more masculine and tall – nearly as tall as the bottom of the balcony above. He looked frail and sickly, as if he had been malnourished for longer than anyone should even be alive. Its flesh seemed to have been haphazardly sewn onto him, as if this gangly piece of living leather was wearing someone else’s flesh. And rather than a formed face, there was just a pungent and disgusting looking orifice that reeked even from the distance they were at now. His magical aura seemed to bend towards the creature, his dispersal being quite literally sucked up into the gaping hole. The ground beneath him even warped; it was quickly overcome with a black ichor that spread throughout the entirety of the lobby’s remnants, with tendrils sliding out to grab at him. Was it something she had created herself or was this yet another spell created to mock him, utilizing what he had already used against her?

It didn’t really matter. His energy took hold of him and created wings so that he could once again fly into the air. He reared himself back from the reaching tentacles and her, just in time as the transformed psychopath screeched and unleashed a torrent of black liquid that he had no intention of being caught in. He weaved through the air quickly, dodging grabs from the tendrils and from the spray that just seemed to keep coming. Her arms rose and from them came orbs of darkness, sailing right at him. At first he reached out, ready to absorb them into his body and resupply his own magical core. But at the very last moment, alarm bells screeched in his mind, warning him against the nature of the attacks. He managed to put up his guard once more but not before the attacks smashed against it, his magic shield cracking and melting into nothingness from the corrupted essence. He was pushed back against the wall as the building shook violently against the screaming voices of the perished. Pieces of stone fell all around him, breaking more of the building than had already been brought down. A quick glance through one of the open veins showed the world outside. Her attack wasn’t just here. It was outside, swallowing up the people that hadn’t had the wherewithal to fully retreat from the area. Observers were suffocating, grabbed by the tendrils and dragged into whatever abyss lay within the ichor.

He had no other choice. Or rather, he was given no other choice. Mythal was stunned for too long that his grip on the wheel loosened and another pair of hands took over. His face fully melted away and gave way to the dark form, his hair growing swiftly down as his other eye twisted into a dark purple spiral. He roared, darkness exploding out of him in all directions and vaporizing the stones and the tendrils in the immediate area. His spinning gaze set upon her, snarling as his arms ignited in flames of darkstarlight. He began to punch into the blasts coming his way, sending the blasts back the way they had come so that they would crash into her own disgusting form. Punch after punch he delivered until he thrust through one last blast and stretched his arm out. Darkness of the blackest pitch came surging in from everywhere, stolen from shadows and dark rooms to become his clay. A bubble of darkness filled the entire area, leaving her blind to anything and everything.

From the darkness emerged tendrils of his own that batted at hers, tearing them to shreds like wild animals fighting over a kill. A moment later, thousands of stars would appear all around Thana, burning to life in the darkness like a perverted night sky. A single bright purple light appeared above, flashing and releasing a torrent of darkstarlight right onto her. It would aim to press her down to the ground, wearing on her body and sucking the life energy right from her form. Mythal, within the shadows, waved his hand and the stars all around her surged to life. Similar to the attacks he had first shot at her, blasts of darkstarlight came surging down upon her, exploding against her body and in the area around her with such force that the building around them had more of its walls shaken loose. He let the barrage carry out his anger, his rage, his deep and resonating hatred for this disgusting example of humanity. And then he cut it off.

“I am the darkness, you fool. And now I’ll send you back to it.” He shimmered unseen in the darkness, standing before her. His arm cocked back and then snapped forward, impaling the woman right through the sternum with the katana. Magic spewed out of his form, down the length of his blade and spread it over her form. It would burn and freeze and siphon off magic and life all at the same time. And then it would compile into the wound, expanding and glowing right until it exploded with such force, it sent Thana flying out of the darkness, into the sky and out of the perimeter of the city. Mythal watched her go, smirking as her body faded from view in the air. But before he could take too much pride in it, his body jerked and began to change back to his original form.

The transformed Darkness King growled but it was too late. Mythal had taken back the reigns and with a hard jerk, he shed off the darkness and sent it back down to his core. The dome of darkness dissipated, bringing the world back to normal. The Darkness Slayer fell to a knee, panting softly as he took a moment to finally catch his breath.

“Fuck…”