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Johnny 'Iron Consul' Caldwell

 

Spinning the chamber of the last gift Earl had left for me, I admire the revolver. It's extraordinary, not quite at the level of Fate Sealer, but who's to say I can't wield two guns? I believe I've practiced enough to put it into a live scenario.

 

But... Earl and his obsession with explosions... Regardless, an exploding bullet will sure be useful. Though I have no clue how he managed it. I smile and holster the Colt on my left side, to be drawn with my left hand.

 

Frangible is for breaking defenses, and Fate Sealer is for putting down threats. If a foe gets too close, too, I can handle that. All those experiences from both Heather and Canyon have left me with centuries of combat knowledge. Laura, even when I don't shoot the Colts, can't break through my defense to hurt me. No matter if she uses her recently acquired Power or not, I can dismantle all her attempts as if they were nothing. It feels... it feels good. Really good. I can't say for sure how strong I am with their knowledge, but it is a grand change. From the lower echelon of Angels, I think I've risen quite a bit.

 

So, I stand after cleaning the weapons and deciding that today is the day I can wield both with pride. Many changes have occurred in the past month. Most of them have been good, I'll admit.

 

But not all have been.

 

The Wastes have begun to spread—slowly, but still. The monsters from within have started crawling up Gravecross, making it harder for more refugees to arrive. As such, I have to hunt them down with the help of people like Skyswain, Laura, Blake now that she's returned, and even little Lennox, who's grown plenty since our first meeting.

 

In only a few moments from my room, silent this early in the morning with only Blake's quiet breathing to accompany me, I step out of the house and into the street. The sky is dark as my boots touch the gravel road, and the instant my skin is laced with air, goosebumps run up and down my flesh.

 

Immediately, my hands flinch toward my Colts, and I investigate my surroundings with my eyes, the darkness not even mattering to my Metamorphosized pupils. Still, I detect nothing. The sense of danger is not coming from any physicality. It's the experience shoveled deep into my soul. It is a warning.

 

Something is coming. Something big.

 

I'm not sure whose past knowledge can realize this, whether it's Heather Graves or Canyon who is bestowing me this warning, but I take it seriously. My eyes scan the sky, some part of me just knowing that the danger will come from there. One does not become a Demigod or Vincent's only rival without having senses far beyond the physical.

 

My mind immediately sparks into motion, endeavoring to create a plan of some sort. What can I do? I need to evacuate this section of the city. If I feel such intensity, it will do severe damage. Likely... more than the God Of Thoughts did through Heather's protection.

 

As I open my mouth, preparing to call for one of the guards who stands outside my house to ring an alarm, a speck of light appears in the air. My eyes widen as I catch a glimpse of what it is. The figure being over five miles in the sky doesn't affect my vision in the slightest as golden rings lace my pupil.

 

It is a falling Nahullo, the pale skin evident even with the searing hot air visible around him. My brain flips through a hundred possibilities before landing on one as the figure approaches a little closer, becoming somewhat familiar. It is the lack of armor, however, that seals the deal.

 

Ytern. The Stalwart Spine. The Warmaster Of the Nahullo. The Hand Of Hearts. The Master Of Arcas. He holds many titles, but as he crashes toward the earth, I can only think of one thing.

 

What is making him fall like that, bleeding every which way?

 

I raise my Colts to follow his descent, but he doesn't actually crash land. An avalanche of ice, curving surprisingly around the houses of his impact zone, catches his momentum nearly a mile high. The earth shakes from the ginormous transfer of force, however, and I Accelerate toward the Nahullo without a moment of hesitance.

 

My feet move with newfound purpose and placement, the gifts from the Stele Of Life not without their fallout. Everything from how I run to how I leap has been subtly changed. I used to think I did it all perfectly, or at least as flawless as my body would allow. I was wrong. There is always room for improvement.

 

In less than five seconds, I travel a mile. I feel a muted current lace my spine, that barrier of speed, the one that leaves a shockwave through the air. I don't push past it despite my hurry. That will only lead to more damage. Instead, I ride the edge of sound.

 

When I arrive at Ytern's impact zone, I encounter the Nahullo still crawling out of the conjured ice. His flesh is raw, the pale skin pink in many places. Blood leaks from many wounds as several bones stick out from his insides. Yet all the injuries mean nothing to a Dominion such as him. Being cut in half might not necessarily kill such a figure.

 

The part that brings a shiver to my spine is the blood surging from his orifices. His nose, eyes, ears, mouth, and temples bleed massively. It is a traumatizing sight for many, but for one such as me, it is even worse. I know who can do such a thing. There is only one in all the worlds known to mankind with Mixcoatl dead.

 

Leviathan. The Dragon Of Souls. The Shadow Of Morrow. The Sharpest Thread. The Enthralling Weaver. The Ruiner Of Wills. The Depraved Scale. The Tinted Rainbow. The oldest Binary Lord.

 

Leviathan holds more titles and names than most people have ever had their names called. She is old, wise, and powerful enough to do this to Ytern.

 

I backstep, hauling the energy of the Stele toward me. I feel whatever leftovers of the soul within it converge onto me, creating a Dominion outward from my locale. I levy it upon Ytern, pressing the Nahullo for an answer while he is injured and under the barrel of my guns. My threat should hold some ground with how hurt he is.

 

"What are you doing here, Ytern?! Where is Leviathan!?"

 

The Warmaster sputters, blood spouting from his mouth in a flood as he coughs with a hand on his left temple. The Dominion is horribly injured, but he's not dead. I need to keep my guard up. With that in mind, I nearly fire both Colts into his eyes as he lifts a finger upward.

 

"Up. Our differences have finally come to blows in search of a higher power. Should you wish not to fall prey, escape."

 

I bite my lip as I tilt my eyes upward, the clouds above hiding whatever is in the skies. I wait a moment, peering without pause as I finally sneak a peak of a descending figure.

 

Shadowed by the moons and the clouds, a serpentine figure, hundreds of miles long and curling all over with lethal spikes, shows itself. Yet, as I imbue Ether into my eyes, gazing closer, I realize that what I see is only a manifestation of a mind. It is hazy, see-through, and unreal. Above it all is the true figure. She stands haughty and domineering, sinking toward us without hurry.

 

I flicker my eyes back to Ytern, immediately knowing that he is the key.

 

He's fought her before. I need him to do it again if my people are to live. It is funny how quickly I've adopted this city to be my own. Nevertheless, I won't let it fall. I made an oath, a promise.

 

"Can you get back up and continue? I'll do what I can to help."

 

The Stalwart Spine scoffs, lifting himself into a standing position. Even with a bent back, he towers over me like all over Nahullo.

 

"There is little for you in this battle. Leviathan has honed yet another Sirza, finding her previous one not enough for Divinhood as she etches Concepts into her being. She has switched from her last of Thoughts to Monsters. I am the same, forcibly switching my path, only in our contest, she was swifter than I. It is an awful thing to be outmatched at the pinnacle of your life."

 

My jaw trembles, and my guns wobble as I comprehend the weight of his words. Leviathan created another Sirza? No... She's going to push for Godhood as well!? How? I thought they couldn't figure it out!? How...

 

"How...?"

 

The single word leaks out of my mouth in surprise as I can hardly control it. Ytern cracks his neck with one hand and appears to ready himself for death as he chuckles ominously. The Nahullo's voice is low, his manner of speaking is always odd, and his words are true.

 

"Preparation means little against such monsters. Centuries turned to dust by one move. The Dragon's Monster leaves me with little recourse, yet my responsibilities leave me with even less. If your offer is true, stand tall. I sense a Dominion around you. It may not be yours... but it might be enough. Today may be our last, but it shall be our fondest."

 

I nod to Ytern, forcing myself to ally with the Nahullo for now. If I want any of this city to live at all, we have to work together. If Leviathan has two Sirzas now, then not only are we grossly outmatched, but we are also risking everyone here.

 

My Colts rise to the sky above as Ytern finally prepares himself. Ice forms from the very air, and his eyes twist in his sockets to face me. He pauses for a moment as if searching for something before returning my nod.

 

"I see. My mentor's mentor's mentor spoke of her, passing down the knowledge through the ages. A fine warrior she was. I can see her Dominion upon you, upon me. Relinquish it for Leviathan. If you can copy more than how she stands, copy her Ether. Accretion would be ideal for a battle such as this. As would Ash. I doubt you can copy Soulful, no matter how kind."

 

I raise an eyebrow, not understanding his words, but the ancient Nahullo, at least compared to me, simply sighs. Then he turns to face the sky once more. His leg ascends, finding placement shortly thereafter in a floating block of ice. Ytern continues into the sky to meet his match.

 

Damn... if only I had a way to fly! Hmm... maybe... What did he mean by Ether? Ytern seems to realize I have copied much of her abilities and stances but not her Ether? How would he even recognize that? How in-depth is the training of a Warmaster?

 

It must be on a whole different level from that of a Hunter. I suppose it's in the name, though—a master of war and all of its aspects.

 

Ytern continues to ascend without me, as I think, scrambling to find an answer. If I can keep the fight in the sky somehow, then less will get injured. I only have the confidence to do this because of the Stele, too, alongside the fact that both of these Demigods have to be tired after fighting already.

 

What can I do to copy her Ether?

 

I reach for the Stele, finding the image of its placement underground within my mind. I grasp for its strength, and it is quickly delivered. The Dominion bows to my will as if the soul were still here in full. Yet, that is not what I seek.

 

There is something far more personal I need. I am sorry, Canyon. Heather. I do not know how invasive this is to your lingering spirits.

 

Closing my eyes, I delve into the Stele, taking a gamble. I wish Earl were here to weigh the odds, but alas, he is not meant to stay here. I always knew he was destined for greatness with the sparkle in his eyes.

 

Before, I was afraid of doing this. I was fearful of hurting Canyon's soul. I was scared of ruining the Stele. I was... I was horrified by what it could do to me. Now? I toss those fears aside. I embrace the moxie of a young man who has gone further than I. I have reached my limit, and even if I have to devour the strengths of others, I will go higher. I will not pause here.

 

There. Is. Too. Much. At. Stake.

 

A shooting pain sinks into my skull as I fall to my knees. It lingers, refusing to leave as centuries more of knowledge sink into my skull. It is not just the expertise of Ether, too. I learn a great many things, from how the world used to work a millennia ago to how Canyon liked his sandwiches.

 

It all comes at once without pause, forcing me to appreciate the previous bestowal. Blood drips from my face in a similar fashion to Ytern. Disregarding the danger of doing so, I brush away the crimson with my sleeve and flow the Ether within.

 

I know Living Strand. But beyond that, I've hit a wall. That wall no longer exists. Or it does, but I understand how now to leap beyond it. I know all of Canyon's and Heather's skills that didn't require their Sigil's direct touch. Furthermore... I know the not so direct ways to reach the higher stages of Ether from the ancient Graves. The first I reach for necessitates what Ytern mentioned a moment ago.

 

Accretion Ether forms beneath my heel as I lift one left up. The ball of twirling, awful, and highly caustic Ether, capable of shredding flesh from bone, grows in size. Then, I create a counterbalance, a whole extra bit of Accretion Ether, just large enough to restrict the first's force.

 

I wait a fraction of a second before slipping my mind from each, allowing them to run wild.

 

An explosion of force detonates below me from both Accretions meeting. The kinetic energy sends straight into my body as I soar upward. Pain sings through my whole body now and not just my head, as the skill is meant for a much more robust body. Nonetheless, I take the broken ankle in stride from a dumbed-down version of Heather Graves' Singularity Step, a grand work of art that requires no influence of a Sigil.

 

In a second, I travel far enough to outpace Ytern, miles shredding into nothingness. My everything trembles beneath the force as I frantically use Canyon's Earthly Body to stabilize myself. It's not his most potent defensive skill, but it's his best without needing his brand of Sigil.

 

My body turns weightless as the force finally leaves my body. And then, I come face to face with this... creature. I've heard stories of dragons, but they were all falsities, unreal things. The king of monsters has never been real until now.

 

Long, lanky segments of its body with disastrous claws and an even more terrifying maw. Still, it isn't real. It's made of psychic Ether fusing together in some way leagues above even Heather's Ether control.

 

I bring my Colts to face Leviathan, her visage wholly visible from this distance as I begin to fall. Again, I create a miniature Singularity Step, this one far, far smaller than the previous. I pull the trigger toward Leviathan as I see her bloodied and beaten already. A destroyed heart lies within her palm as the clothes around her heart are ruined, likely done by the Pale Cavity before it was broken.

 

Two lines of lead enter the sky, only to be followed by many more as I release all that I can toward this Demigod. Unfortunately, the bullets from Frangible immediately explode when touched by her Dominion, and those of Fate Sealer wage war against her control. Fate against a dragon, and the creature wins.

 

Bullets are flung every which way by the mental force of Leviathan. She hardly even gives me an ounce of attention as Ytern comes soaring up. Ice follows his movement as a fortress-sized avalanche hurtles for the great being in the sky.

 

In retaliation, the dragon swoops toward Ytern, cutting, biting, and crashing right through the avalanche of cold. Seeing the Sirza set upon the Nahullo, I inhale a deep breath.

 

I might not come back from this decision. I might not be fast enough to Glitch my body. But this is what I've trained for. Maybe not this exact scenario, but...

 

Another burst of Accretion Ether hurls me upward toward Leviathan. In the brief moment that my acceleration meets gravity, I find her eyes locked solely upon me.

 

"Quite arrogant, human. The last Power to step before me was vastly more talented than you. So talented his name ceases to exist."

 

Curiosity burns as I wish to know who she speaks of, but I don't wait a moment. More lead leaves my guns as I trust in my aim. Still, the bullets are swayed easily by Leviathan's mind. She giggles with a hand in front of her blue skin as if finding me to be a funny toy.

 

"Ohoho! How cute! Your little gun can't even get close! I'm getting bored, human. Another three seconds, and you die, and then so does everything below. And lastly, that Paleskie will die. There is a... grudge to be settled with the Warmaster."

 

Her words only cause my frustration to surmount. I delve once more into the memories, hauling out even more vital memories. They come with a price, however, and I feel things leave my mind that I don't even know I am losing. I only know there is a cost to such rabid theft of skill.

 

Blood surges down my face all over as Leviathan mocks me again. These demons are so prideful! They're so... strong...

 

"I haven't even hit you yet! How are you bleeding like that?"

 

A roar of terrifying laughter fills the skies as a shiver strikes my bones. Nevertheless, I don't falter. The Ether within my hand twists in a unique fashion as it sinks deeply into the Colt before me. Bestowing Strand places extreme strain on Frangible as I let it all go at once.

 

The Colt detonates, covering my hand in bloody flesh as a singular bullet leaves the chamber. It rockets through the air so speedily that it nearly strikes Leviathan. Her eyes widen as her horns slide back on her head.

 

"You..."

 

Before she has any time to follow up, too focused on her words, I make a sacrifice. I love this Colt, Fate Sealer. It is beautiful, powerful, and reliable. However, Bestowing Strand places a vast strain on the bestowed. Especially... if I do it how Heather did it. That woman... in her time, no weapons could keep up with Angels, let alone Demigods. So... she used them like trash.

 

Furthermore...

 

It just so happens to synergize perfectly with my eyes.

 

Bestowing Strand obliterates the Lumen in my hand, or more accurately, the Lumen destroys itself in search of a greater impact. A terrifying bullet, one that would seal my fate in an instant, surges through the sky. Space warps beneath the lead, and it slams against Leviathan's forehead.

 

Or... the space in front of her skull.

 

Her Dominion and psychic force meet the Colt's grandest bullet ever. Leviathan smiles as she gradually wears down the Colt's overcharged effect.

 

"That's all? Now you're weaponless."

 

I don't deign to reply. Gold bleeds out my pupils, and I Glitch the Colt. Doing so takes more significant strain than usual, as if reality is more set in stone at this moment. My mind settles on the fact that a Demigod's surroundings are more demanding to affect than most regions. Their soul must have some innate defense that spreads outward.

 

Another bullet fills the air shortly after. Then another. And another. And another. And another. I do not stop firing the Colt until my mind screams of pain, ice covers my body, and my eyes go wholly blind. Even then, I push for more. I yearn for more as I rip more time from where there should be done. Even when I am unsure of my condition, I continue squeezing the trigger toward the danger. I move with Accretion Ether, and I attack with Bestowing within my Colts. But it is not enough.

 

Swathes of death come for me, and I manage to rewind my life instants before death. Ytern wages a calamitous war himself, but we are outmatched.

 

There must be more.

 

I feel something click within my eyes as my blurry vision settles back into place. And when it does... I see so much more than before. Ether... it is a... brilliant painting that I can follow. And so I do, listening to Heather's ancient wisdom, guiding my own soul into my Ether, adapting it as I must. And as I do, I watch Fate Sealer shift into a... ashy form. The Colt turns gray and indistinct, nearly see-through, but as the hammer hits the cartridge, the entire gun vaporizes, releasing a bullet of condensed Ether and ash. I don't get to see the ash fly further than a foot from the barrel as pain overwhelms my mind, an outraged scream from Leviathan pushing me beyond that edge.

 

Without knowledge of life or death, I enter the cold dark without light, confident in what I've done. I wholly doubt the demon is dead, but at the very least, my city will survive. Of that, I am sure.

 

The final puzzle I saw was a dragon collapsing from the sky, a dual effort of cold and fate.

 

The goal was never survival, well, at least not mine. It never has been. It never will be. If I am to live, then so be it. If not, I am glad I was given the chance to atone for my past. I am not a great man, but I hope I was enough to make them proud.