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Virgil 'Flickering Wraith' Boone

 

I navigate the treacherous terrain of the besieged city of Apathy, my movements fluid and silent as I traverse the ruined rooftops. My feet tap off the barely hanging walls and bricks by pure practice. This isn't the first time I've danced over a dying city. Not even close.

 

Death hangs heavy in the air, the cityscape overrun by the Motherbound wreaking havoc upon the long-dead inhabitants. The God, sharing the same name, also hovers above, even if I can't see her. Yet, amidst the chaos and destruction, I remain undeterred, my focus fixed on the task at hand.

 

Screams of pain and horror resound in every which way. Some that I swear I can even recognize. A few that I remember causing. My jaw tightens as I press onward. They are the past.

 

With each leap and bound, I propel myself forward with an unwavering goal, my path leading me straight toward a cluster of formidable demons. Like a shadow in the night, I glide effortlessly over the rooftops, my movements shrouded in secrecy. Nightwhips and Mask cover me from sight as I recall my fight with Wyatt.

 

I'm proud of him, but it still hurts to lose, to see him finally overcome me. I've kept up for a very, very long time. All others that were with us at that time slipped—fell behind, and reached their limits, or... died. Still, I won't let that happen to me. I made a promise. In fact, I made multiple regarding that young man.

 

As I approach my targets, several Angels that are on the path toward Wyatt and Birdie, I slow my pace, coming to a halt against the cold stone of a nearby wall. With acute precision, I observe the demons passing below, relying solely on my heightened hearing and spatial awareness to discern their movements. Years of doing this exact thing have prepped me for this very second.

 

In the recesses of my mind, I conjure a mental image of the five demons, each possessing unique sizes and potential abilities. I don't know what each can do, but there are two human-sized ones, one smaller, more Pygmy-like, and two large ones.

 

I'll focus on the more diminutive ones first. They are usually easier to kill. With a firm grip on my daggers, I steady my breathing, allowing a moment of calm to wash over me before I make my move. I'm always calm. It's something I'm proud of, but sometimes, I need more.

 

My heartbeat sinks to a minimum, perhaps not even a beat per minute. My blood flow crawls at a tiny pace as I manually stop my breathing—one good strike.

 

I learned a thousand things during my fight with Clarence, as I'm sure he did from me. It is now time to put it all to the test. As I lean against the brick wall, the shadows of the demolished buildings covering me, I hear a slight caw, one that reminds me of a raven.

 

Raising an eyebrow, I search over my head, only to find nothing. Shaking my head, I refocus. It could just be some skill nearby. The scythe from Haen slides off my back as I ever so slightly move, not making a single sound with a dual usage of Mask and Muted, a better Silence that I recently developed.

 

I hear a crack of a rock as the group of demons pass me by. Perfect. The short one is in the back.

 

With precise timing, I dart out from my concealed position, springing into action as I lunge toward the unsuspecting demon. Nightwhips lung me forward as I have a Silhouette rush in front of me.

 

The short demon twists, somehow anticipating my attack. Its claws surge forward, shifting into two massive lions, still attached to the demon's wrists. Unfortunately for this demon, its wrists bite at my identical-looking Silhouette. The Ether explodes into a puff of darkness upon being infected with Darklight.

 

Letting go of those streams, I leap from the clouding darkness with two outstretched hands. Both daggers find their mark, sinking deep into the side of the creature's turned neck. A guttural cry of agony escapes its lips as it thrashes in pain, blood spilling from the grievous wounds.

 

Before the other demons can aid this one, a scythe hurtles through the air, finding its mark and delivering a lethal blow to the wounded demon's spine. As it collapses to the ground, dying but not quite dead, I unleash a torrent of nightmarish tendrils of darkness, each one lashing out as a measure of guarantee. This thing needs to die before I retreat.

 

The tendrils snake and writhe through the air, attempting to pierce the flesh of the demons fallen under the Motherbound's control. Unfortunately for me, however, the remaining four are unfazed by my attempts. Instead, they reach for me as a group, Darklight emerging from all over.

 

Sensing danger closing in, I sidestep with lightning speed, allowing the momentum to funnel the Ether for Flicker. In an instant, I vanish from their sight, reemerging in a fog of whiteness. Like tightening a fist, the muscle hard to describe for my Power, I hold onto it for longer, letting it burn my Ether at an incredible rate.

 

Yet it's not without a boon. I walk during these few moments, only a scarce three steps, but it's enough.

 

Releasing the skill, I reemerge on the opposite side of the demons. Four left, huh? Can I do that? I can probably kill one more if I send it all the way. But what then?

 

These are Angels, Virgil. Powerful figures that can kill thousands in minutes. But so am I. I stand a chance against four.

 

I've faced worse odds. Far more miserable, that's for sure. And... down here? In the Underworld? It's always nighttime. The sun cannot pierce the veil of rock above to affect my Ether.

 

In the darkness of the street, shadowed by rubble, I extend my hand forward, a pulsing light originating from my palm. Then, as the demons begin to turn toward me, I ram my thumb into my heart, allowing the light to intertwine with my heart.

 

The shadows in the vicinity vanish before the radiance that stems from my heart, spewing from my very veins. The demons are given less than a fraction of a second to react as I surge forward, a streaming river of white.

 

My feet tap the rocks, Shadowed turning into something... other as I feel warm inside, unlike the continual coldness I am used to. My hands gain warmth as, beneath me, my boots melt onto the ground. My clothes sear and scorch from the luminance, the blinding aura. The demons squint despite their own dark radiances.

 

Reaching to my rear, I grasp onto the haft of a weapon, and as I accelerate to my pinnacle, wrapping Sanedges around my limbs and under my flesh, air crackles. But it doesn't break. Hushed stops the air from even reacting to my presence.

 

And so, faster than sound can even shift, without the air to respond, I bring the scythe across my body as I pass by another demon.

 

Time resumes its normal pace as I stumble, faltering in my attempt to change direction. A head, however, sinks to the street, rolling noisily along the clattered stones and spilled blood. My light fades slightly, the glimmering sheen lowering as seconds pass.

 

But the demons do not mind their dead brethren enough to stop—the remaining three charge at me, cursing me all the while.

 

"Murderer! She will make you pay!"

 

"Ghost! No! What is he!? Bastard!"

 

"Light? No... Darkness? So odd. He's not real! Kill him!"

 

My breath comes out in ragged gasps as I realize I've already used the vast majority of my Ether saturation. My head is spinning as light roars through my arteries, peaking out at my fingertips, still bound by gloves. Nevertheless, those gloves fall to the wayside as I sidestep a demon's rabid charge. They are skilled, even through their corrupted instincts, but... they have not killed as I have, fought as I have, warred as I have. Only Clarence could tie me in a duel. Yet that was many days ago already, and I learned from every passage. Now, I would not fair so poorly. So, I dodge and weave, using my agility and ability to predict the next move to prevent myself from losing my head or soul.

 

Around the human-sized one after me, threads spring to life, emerging from nowhere but the air. Inside those threads, however, are tightly constricted constructs of Darklight. Not wanting to get hit by them, I swerve, only to be forced to Flicker away from another.

 

Immediately, the battle becomes risky, something not under my control anymore. Even with Shadowless, it's not enough to keep up with three Fallen at once. I dip, duck, flip, Flicker, and vanish, but it's not enough.

 

They chase me, even when I disappear into the Otherworld. I prevent myself from garnering any significant wounds, but within a single short minute, things become worrying. The Darklight is pushed out by Flickering, but the other human-sized one has some kind of toxin in the air-like blades they manipulate. I'm resistant to poison from my training, but this is no venom I've ever been exposed to.

 

It's slowing me down, diverting my light. Not good.

 

Deflecting a blade of air with a dagger, I send the scythe at the 'big boy' of the demons to distract it for a second. But my right hand is what falters first. The blade of air somehow transforms into a concussive blast a moment before impact, sending me sprawling onto the cobbled stones.

 

I spin on the ground, reorienting myself, but I'm not fast enough. The big boy is on me, dropping a colossal fist toward my face. There goes another Flicker. I don't have many opportunities left.

 

Reappearing behind the three, they already are facing me, knowing where I'd go. I've become predictable, huh? Yeah, I have. I should change that up a bit. Take some more from that kid's playbook.

 

I charge forward, calling the scythe to my hand. It soars through the air, cutting a wound on the side of the big demon. I tolerate a miniature smile as I immediately order the scythe to detonate the wound. Blood explodes outward as I meet the sharp-nosed one with the equally sharp blades of air.

 

My scythe deflects a bulge of air, and I use my other hand to toss a dagger at them. Then, I send Sanedges for his face, but it's quickly rebuffed by the other human-sized one using its threads.

 

I leap back, realizing it's just not going to work. I don't have enough firepower. I don't have a single skill that can simply... overwhelm. Wyatt has his Explosion, Bonfire has with Incineration, Lennon has... whatever the fuck he can do with those invisible swords, and even Kwakiteh has that thing her Claymore can do with blood.

 

Illuminate is good, but it's just not good enough for Angelic foes. Yes, it can hurt them, and a perfectly timed one might even kill one. But to overpower three?

 

I continue to fight as I mull over this conundrum, adeptly feeling my time in such a heated battle drawing to a close. The seconds are running thin. Slowly, I begin to make mistakes, something I don't usually do, and it earns me a backslap from the big boy. I attempt to offset some of the force with my daggers, but I feel my arms crack as I drop the weapons.

 

Tumbling head over heels, I leverage the scythe to block an airy blade, but that ends with the scythe hundreds of feet away. Even while rolling in pain with broken arms, I flip onto my feet, sliding a few more inches before I regain balance.

 

Then, I stare at the three rushing for me. Darklight is already seeping into my arms, but I have some time. I can Flicker when I'm done here, but I need to come up with something. I could run to Wyatt for help, yet only if I must.

 

I want to improve, to follow him into whatever hell he embarks. I do so because I know, deep down, that I owe him for changing my life for the better. But not just that, he helms a potential that I cannot fathom. Even if my bones break, my skin ruptures, and my veins explode, I won't...

 

I won't give up on him.

 

Actually... that gives me an idea. I remember watching Blodwyn fire a bullet of blood from his veins while I took care of him. I had him take it up a notch, and the Arca evolved it into a stream of blood with the force of a bullet. He could twist and drag it, but only for a short time. After all, there is only so much blood in the body at once.

 

I clench my fist as the three demons rush me, with the big one in front. I breathe heavily, letting out gasps of air that turn the area around it into foggy mist. Shadowless still flows through my veins, as I've improved the skill over time, both from general practice and time spent as an Angel.

 

It's time to raise this up a notch. I can do this. I know I can. I'm...

 

I'm a killer. So it's about time I learned a new way to kill. There is no one here to save my life. If I want to live, I must do what I have always done. Kill. These beings enjoy killing, but they are not... they do not possess the eyes.

 

Sanedges form on my right hand as I poke holes at the tips of each of my fingers on that hand. Like pressurized canisters of air, reminiscent of Earl's contraption in Wyatt's arm, I force the light in my heart to swirl, circulating painfully before heading toward my hand. The light carried and bolstered by Ether as it is made of Ether condenses, turning a pure, untainted white. I feel something shift internally as my steam wafts from my veins.

 

Then, a blinding pain emerges from within my body and mind as flesh contorts, sublimating and joining that light. Screaming in pain, the echo of my voice joining the cacophony of war, I clutch my other hand onto my wrist as if to mentally force it all to stop.

 

It all hurts so bad; the agony of my body not only turning to gas but something far more energetic nearly cripples me. Despite it all, the muscles in my hand twist as I instinctively form a claw, bending my arm as if I had claws to strike with.

 

And a dozen feet from the big boy, I swing my arm, the light bursting from my fingertips. Five beams of light stream from my hand, one from each finger. My hand passes to the other side of my body without resistance; only I can tell that the insides of my shoulder, arm, and especially my fingers are charred to all hell. But within that glorious, unending light, the sheer brightness creates miniature shadows, places where the light is more diminutive. Those shadows quickly creep back into reality, overcoming all as the street returns to darkness.

 

Silence reigns for a moment as I blink twice and stumble forward with limp arms, surprised by the lack of roaring before me. Stunned by myself, I witness the three demons slide into five parts, sectioned and seared by my own light.

 

I fall to my knees with a pounding headache. Another raven's caw resumes. Squinting, I gaze upward, only to find a falling inky black feather. That feather slides to the floor before me, landing upon a puddle of blood. It spins on the dense liquid, staring at me.

 

When I blink, however, it is gone.

 

And in its place is a dark orb with a shadowy exterior that seems to devour all light. I reach forward, taking the orb as something simply calls me to it.

 

The moment I do, my vision twists, showing me a thousand visions and futures, or perhaps even alternate realities, all at once, but I only remember three. Three distinct and important frames for me to latch onto.

 

The first has light bulging from my veins after I am grievously wounded, burning away my own darkness. And from the fumes of the pyre, I heal, recovering as the night relinquishes to the day. On top of that, the fumes turn physical, a fog that moves around me like a roving beast. This one bestows me a slight smile as I instinctively know I will be able to do this, that this is my Sigil's next improvement.

 

The second has a colossal crash of a building, something the mass of a whole castle, head toward me, but the instant before impact, I vanish. And then, I reappear unfazed a thousand feet away, fixing my mask on my face. Again, instincts speak to me, or perhaps it's my own Sigil. This is what my Virtue becomes.

 

And the third... It's bizarre, more like a challenge? A testament, even? It doesn't even include me, only an idea of something patched together but near-impossible to decipher wholly. It is a sun setting and rising at once, a moon rising and setting alongside its counterpart.

 

It sinks profoundly into my heart as I know, partially, that this is important. That this... this is very important to me. Is this my Proof? Or how I accomplish my next Absolution? Or both? I don't know.

 

The moment afterward, an idea... or a pair of words enters my mind. It is simple. It is... mine.

 

Ghast, The Shunned Light.

 

This is my Sigil's name. This is my Sigil. The second title has switched after many months, becoming something far different. Thoughts run at a thousand miles per minute, and I quickly fall upon a single conclusion as I recall the burst of Shadowless I just did a second or two ago. Even in that bright light, shadows persisted, invading my targets underneath the beams of death. My heart sinks for some reason, as it all feels so futile. It'll never go away. Never. There will always be something else, some other danger, some other... darkness.

 

My weightless mind sags. I let disappointment and resignation fall over me for the first instance in a long, long time. There will always be a darkness to accompany a light. But that's okay. If there were never any darkness, then the light wouldn't be very bright, would it? Its radiance wouldn't matter. It would all simply be... gray. And oh, how boring that would be. I'll have to learn how to use the light without Shadowless, and the dark while using it. That will be... quite the step forward. That'll... if Shadowless is a Dzil, then what will come next will be even greater. I can already imagine it, the loop of darkness enhancing light and vice versa. It'll rapidly grow beyond my capability to control its growth, but that's how those things are born. No man or woman is meant to handle such complexity. It is simply... Godly.

 

Air enters my thoughts as I gradually return to form. I'm not sure about my future. So I can only focus on the now. What I do know, however, is that God had one last gift for me. Or at least I think that's what happened. There is always a chance I hallucinated that in pain, and that I simply had that much resonance to pull a Sigil from thin air.

 

Yeah, right. I'm not Wyatt. That was a gift. I wonder how I got it, though?

 

My feet stabilize onto the hard stone as I also recognize the fact that I just grasped onto Plasmic Ether, though I don't know what kind that was. It wasn't fire, dust, or lightning, that's for damn sure. It was bright and hot, but it wasn't lightning. I know that much.

 

Stumbling forward, I find a lack of Sigil in one of the five demons I killed. The second one. Where did it go? Oh... I see now. Why was it so easy for me?

 

Is it because of the God's death? It has to be, right? It must be.

 

Groaning in pain as another demon turns the corner, this one seems to be a far lower Sigil, I shamble to my scythe. This green-skinned horror rushes toward me with a longsword in its hand, the edge vibrating dangerously.

 

The moment it gets close, however, I twist away, decapitating it with the scythe. The head soars through the air, landing atop a ruined structure. Another one down. How many more to go? I was planning on only slowing the groups after Wyatt, but all plans tend to hit shit with Motherbound involved. I tried to escape. Didn't work. So, I had to win.

 

Sighing, I head back toward where I last saw him. I don't think I'll lose so fast anymore.