“OSTATNIE TCHNIENIE”
A torch burner of impossible white focused within his mouth, it twisted, wobbled, raptured, and collapsed. It was charging for 3 impossibly long seconds. The air whined under the mounting pressure. It shoots forward, instantly, with no moment of delay between the start and the point of impact. The blastwave erupted, splitting the instantly glassed path that the beam traveled. Air smashing against the walls of surrounding buildings and collapsing them. Melting all that was in the vicinity.
Within the impossibly small time frame, the plasma charge hit the Atlantian Relic Armor, the last resort protocol activated, a spell matrix meant only when detecting a threat that would eradicate the user. Meant to protect him no matter the cost. The armor did what it was created for, and it increased its defense drawing from the users pool of mana.
Klaus's pool was already drained, his reservoir cracked, forcefully expanded, and emptied too rapidly to have any chance to regenerate. When the armor hit the rock bottom of his well, Klaus's mana channels were set alight. Blood vessels burst as the body spasmed, the energy being drained from the muscle tissue where it naturally lay to strengthen the body.
Still not enough.
The armor reached for the last source of power in the body. The last hope. Atlantian's horns. Out of the 3 that grew on his skull, only the middle one was grown enough to even qualify Klaus as someone barely more than a juvenile. The left one was too small while the right one was cracked, bleeding oily black ichor into his eye. The Relic drew forcefully on it, and the agony it forced on Klaus's mind cracked its shell into pieces. Scorching lashes whipped across his cognition in less than a heartbeat. The main horn crumbled into dust, going up in the poof of smoke as the pure potential of Klaus's growth was sapped from him. The underdeveloped horn followed suit a moment later, adding to the agony.
The third one made the world stop, spasm around the edges of reality, fray them, and made the Relic choke and stop its drawing of power.
All of Klaus's accumulated power, all of his potential, his natural gifts of magic, and his body were sacrificed for extra protection.
The Last Breath passed through The Orchard of Thorns turning them into black flakes of ash, shot into the sky, covering the clouds with bone dust.
And it crumbled after 2 seconds. The millennia-old passed-down family heirloom became molten slag in a moment, the beam ate through it and the 2 buildings behind Klaus as the whole left side of his body became instantly vaporized. Gone, before pain could even register.
Even if it could be registered, Klaus's mind was in such shock right now, that no physical sensation could reach it. The Relic brought out something unintended. The horror, despair, hate, all of it created a wave that crashed in contact with the Void that clung to his broken horn, now spreading rapidly into the rest of the body after being drawn out.
Instead of two forces clashing, they melded upon touch. And their powers multiplied. The madness took over, drowned in icy splashes of The Void, and Klaus's eye turned depthless just like his opponents.
Before Luke could force his battered body just a bit to the side to slice his opponent in half, a laser of incomprehensible blackness shot through his Breath, it sliced through it as if air, with no resistance. And it slammed directly into Luke's chest.
His heart behaved like a choking engine, it pulsed erratically, the heartbeat was disrupted, and the Vein of Void inside regained its power and started consuming the heart.
The transformation had to stop, the power source became muddled and unable to fight off the void and keep up the Battle Form.
All power drained of Luke, and his rugged body stopped being consumed by flames, now skinless, it just released wafts of foul smoke from between the torn muscles and charred bones.
The pain hit his mind like a truck. Spazming on the ground, he could barely maintain his point of view on Klaus.
The Void Gaze lasted only a second, enough to put a stop to Luke's offense but also enough to crack whatever held the remnants of Klaus's sanity.
Using his one remaining arm he was clutching his head where the Void Taint was spreading. A cascade of foul ichor poured downwards from between the twisted, torn claws. Painting them early black.
The noises he was making were an unnatural combination of cackling like a maniac and sobbing like a child. He took a step towards Luke, and another one, and with each one, the crazed sounds increased in volume.
Too drained to even process that Luke discarded all thoughts, even words left his mind. What remained was the only purpose and will.
An Echo of the Creed, more felt than heard.
NO GLORY WITHOUT SUFFERING.
He tried to rise, but the giant was getting closer and he had to kill it. Kill it before it kills him. His loved ones. Anyone. It was his duty.
His right forearm hit the brittle ground, the now-retracted Tool of Slaughter so weak it chipped from such feeble impact.
Unable to even make a sound, with his jaw turned to mince, he tried drawing upon any magic he could. Neither ambient mana nor kinetic powers, nothing responded as cuts of freezing void slashed at his channels.
Klaus was just a few steps away.
With effort overshadowing all of the fight so far, he pushed against the ground, wobbly rising to his feet. The charred flesh on his thighs opened from the movement, revealing doused crimson. His heart was going into cardiac arrest, The Vow had not been completed and it was time to pay the price.
Whatever scraps of magic suffused his flesh, the pumping of his heart, and the weight of his body was used to push him forward.
Barely managing to wrap his arms around Klaus's waist, his heart stopped. Forcefully sapped from energy to beat even one more time. His mind laser-focused on what he had to do. He clasped his burned, bleeding palms behind his back and pushed forward as he was losing consciousness, drowning, his body shutting down.
Luke Heeded the Call, and as they fell...
They both disappeared without a sound or a trace.
Just drops of Dark Red and Dark Blue blood hit the ground.
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THE BIG NOTHING
The absence of space, matter, time, and energies.
That is what lies where nothing is.
Infinitely small and incomprehensibly big are not accurate descriptions, for this is not a space, it has no measure of distance, and it is the antithesis of comprehension.
Any living mind, at its core, is aware of Infinity, infinite growth, and the spreading of the universe. It may be incomprehensible for most, but is ingrained deep down into each soul.
The true meaning of NOTHING is beyond any mind.
Only those tainted by the Void may gleam into the abstract, desolate concept that it is.
Traversing through it is both instantaneous and lasting eternity.
A scream into The Void does not get silenced. It spreads until it's spread so wide, that it shatters into chunks, chunks that are then dissolved even more until only a mote of the idea of a scream is left.
And then, nothing.
The only opposition to that which consumes is the bastion of creation, that which perpetually expands. What tries to brave the onslaught of entropy?
CHAOS
The embers that shine within the darkness. The only point of reference is the recognizable to the lost mind. Anchors amidst the unknown. The only place, sanity can hook onto in the storm of madness.
The two were forced into that realm. Stretched along uncountable worlds and realms, times, rules, and laws. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Melded and shredded. Scorched as they came into contact with everything that may be.
The only thing keeping them from dispersing was their Seed of Chaos, all the energies that developed from the primal force embedded into every piece of existence.
It was draining quickly.
Both of their minds were tired, overwhelmed, and spent.
The entry point never existed. The way to leave was never meant to happen.
The only thing that guided them was the delusion, the memory that Luke held most dear to himself.
That place that meant so much, the last place he was happy with Her.
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The sun was rising, and lazy palisades of light punched through the clouds over the City of a Hundred Bridges. Its denizens were only waking up to start their day. Still snuggled in their covers or making their early morning coffee. Fresh, aromatic steam wafting lazily above their porcelain cups, cradled in their hands.
The streets and the parks were scarce of people. Barely a soul or two already out to make a living or getting back after a night shift to let their heavy heads rest on a pillow akin to clouds.
The lazy river floated slowly, the water brisk and chilling. Swaying the grass on the shores and the reeds planted at the bottom the the rhythm of the morning current.
The sun, slowly climbing over the horizon spread warm rays of light, they touched and nestled, and they brought warmth. As they made their way along the river, it reflected the light, illuminating the river bank and the bridge that connected both sides of it.
The Iron Bridge was old, decades old. Daily, hundreds of trams and tens upon thousands of cars traveled on it, yet it stood its ground.
Metal and concrete, melded into unity, load-bearing pillars standing opposed to the river's current. The blue paint flaking off, revealing a coat of rust gave it a nice, timely feel.
It was a special place for many.
For some, one of the most important places.
Memories of the good times.
Recollections of the bad times.
A lone driver was guiding his car along the road, he shook as the car hit the road bump and slowed down getting onto the bridge, for a second losing traction as it slid on the tram's rails.
He was sleepy, tired, and groggy. What a life, to be woken up on the Eve of Dawn, to be forced to drive to his dead-end job.
He rested his elbows on the steering wheel as the car traveled forward.
His forehead followed.
It bounced off it a bit painfully as he hit a road bump, signaling the entry to the Bridge.
Uncaring, he didn't slow down. His main focus was just to get to his house
Suddenly, his head hurt, and he felt the NEED to turn to the side, to avert his gaze.
Something was wrong, his mind didn't want to accept what it was seeing. Something scraped at his mind, screaming.
He hit his head on the steering wheel as his car impacted something, with enough force to veer him off course. The resounding clash deafened him, and the sound of metal denting pierced his ears as his sight distorted, the road turned suddenly into a metal pole, and the car punched through it.
The view changed again, the tumbling waters churned as he was getting closer to them.
SPLASH
He was sinking, the car was like a tomb, the metal creaking around him as the pressure pressed from all sides.
The glass from the windows shot inside the car, yielding to pressure.
The nameless man was drowning, unaware of what caused his demise.
His last thoughts were filled with terror, screams choked out by water filling his gurgling mouth.
Eyes shaking, wide in horror.
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The two emerged from The Empty.
The power of the Push continued, Luke's shoulder driving Klaus's body backward. They emerged in the air. Above an old, metal bridge, in the center middle of it. A few meters above the road itself.
As the pair dove downwards, Klause's back impacted into a car, the power of the clash denting both the metal and bone. Their momentum pushed the vehicle to the side, making it swerve off the course and punch through the railings, diving into the tumulous waters of the river.
They rebounded and spread on the street placed upon the ancient bridge. Both spasmed. Agony and torment fills the minds and the bodies.
Klaus was the one who took the impact on his body. His form was forced to change under the influence of The Veil. It forced him to discard whatever remnants of power his trip through The Void hadn't stripped off him. He was practically normal when the bumper crashed against his back, breaking his spine into pieces, severing his spinal cord, and cutting away the feeling from below his waist.
Still lost in madness, he flopped like a fish thrown out of water, erratic, manic.
Luke tumbled away from the collision. The Veil tried to reconstitute his mortal body as well as it could, but the damage from beyond remained. The open gash on his leg spewed blood, the skin was cracking, revealing fresh meat, missing in many places. Jaw dislocated, missing teeth, unable to close. His body was steaming in the morning cold, still overheating.
The eyes remained focused. Even as he convulsed on the asphalt, his body was ravaged by uncontrolled twitching, vomiting whatever blood and acid his stomach held. He was slamming his head and limbs against the road with enough force to cause fractures in the already tormented bones.
He kept his eyes on Klaus.
He managed to collect himself first, having already experienced that same journey once, his mind managed to pull the pieces of itself together much quicker than before. It still took minutes, minutes spent in physical torment.
He exhaled as his body relaxed, finally, face planted in the ground. His nose was definitely broken. The smell of his own blood clogged his mind.
He released a long, guttural groan. The sound that escaped his mouth was garbled, and scratchy, his vocal cords torn and charred.
A true voice of pain.
He didn't know how long it took, or how he even did it, but he got on his feet. Shivering from pain, he took a step forward, another one. His will is the only driving factor pushing him forward.
A step, another, another one, another one. All leaving bloody imprints on the road.
He was looming over Klaus, the man still spazming, foaming at the mouth. Missing his left arm, and a good chunk of his torso. The Veil crossing reconstituted the cauterized flesh but could not extend his life any longer. He was dying, slowly, agonizingly slowly but he was dying. If left alone he would soon expire.
Not soon enough.
Luke's mouth was hanging open, spit and blood slowly dripping on his hated enemy.
He looked at him with sadness, malice, and hatred. If he could, he would grin at the state of his oppressor. The one that caused him so much pain, so much terror. Pissing himself, convulsing while choking on his own vomit. No pride, no glory, no honor. Just a pathetic little wimp. Almost enough to take pity on him. Almost but not enough.
He grabbed him by his neck, lifting his twitching upper body into the air, the muscle strain enough to make him wince, yet not enough for him to stop. He dragged him towards the area of the bridge that the car punched through, Klause's legs dragging along the asphalt, unresponsive to his pleas.
His leg caused him to move erratically, impossible for him to put too much weight on it as it spewed more and more blood. Every other step was sending spikes of pain through his whole body.
It simply didn't matter.
With heavy, wheezing breath, he moved forward.
Luke located the closest shorn off piece of metal that used to serve as structural support. As he got close, he heaved Klaus over it, and slowly, with purpose, he impaled him on it. The metal rebar entered his back with a squelch and traveled agonizingly slowly until it finally found an exit between Klaus's ribs.
He was regaining sanity, his mind brought to reality by pain and the promise of death. Foam frothing on his mouth he started to plead.
“Mercy, have mercy, please, I can't die like thi...”
He was interrupted by a punch to his face that almost toppled Luke.
Klaus was shocked, for the first time in his life his human form was so weak, so susceptible to damage.
Death was near.
“PLEASE! I CAN GIVE YOU TREASURES, MY FATHER CAN GRANT YOU STATUS, POWER!! PLEASE!” He pleaded, all belief of honor and self-worth thrown into the wind as desperation and reality took over.
Luke grabbed his head, Klaus was so damaged that even his remaining arm, broken as it was before, was unable to put up any resistance. He was doomed to his enemy's will.
With slow, deliberate movement, Luke put his thumbs under Klaus's eyelids. He pinched them, scraping his knuckles against the eyeballs. And he pulled.
The skin was ripped, one quick movement that resulted in a coat of blood spraying on the face of the terrified man.
FOR ALL THE TIMES YOU CLOSED YOUR EYES WHEN OTHERS SUFFERED
Klaus wailed, his lungs deflating, voice reaching heights previously unknown.
Luke discarded the useless eyelids onto the road.
His breath quickened. Whatever reserves of dopamine and serotonin were left in his brain were released right now, a wave of euphoria flooding him. Dampening the overwhelming pain that his body was submerged in.
“I AM MEANT FOR SO MUCH MORE, I WAS BORN AS A ROYAL, YOU CAN'T DO THIS, YOU CAN'T! I'M BEGGING YOU!” Klaus's yell was stopped as Luke's right hand entered his mouth. The fingers wrapped around the tongue. Almost gently, they grasped it and sunk into the soft muscle.
FOR ALL THE LIES YOU TOLD, TO YOURSELF AND OTHERS
He pulled, and the tongue stretched, it was pulled taught and snapped, and a flood of blood and gurgling screams followed.
Luke dropped the tongue under Klaus's shaking body, a cascade of ichor following suit.
If he could, he would smile.
He couldn't, so he followed with the torture. The rightful punishment.
JUSTICE
Luke grabbed his victim's arm, twitching and spazming as it tried to reflexively get away. Almost as if caressing a lover's touch, he lifted it, right between his and Klaus's face. Staring deep into his eyes he used his other hand to grab the fingers that moved nonstop, clenching and relaxing without control.
Without breaking their eye contact, he used his other hand to grab the fingers. His grip tightened. Klaus's fingerbones were creaking. With a slow, deliberate move, he pulled them backward. It took some strength out of him. It was not an easy, flowing move. More rugged, it took a few yanks before they broke, bending backward. With more force put into the pulling motion, they followed. The skin tore open, tendons ripped, and the bones dislocated. Sliding along his palm and forearm.
FOR ALL THE TIMES YOU RAISED THIS HAND AGAINST THE WEAK, THE VULNERABLE, THE INNOCENT
All, besides the thumb, disconnected, the flesh flayed as the fingers were ripped off. They hung loosely on a flab of skin. Dangling in the air. Getting more read with each pulse of Klaus's heart as the crimson stained him more and more.
Luke released his hold. With it, he released his pent-up anger, tension, and frustration.
His mind was shattered, barely functional. Only the purpose and his will held it barely enough to function. He was at the end of this road. Mortally wounded, each beat of his heart was bringing him closer to death.
Yet.
He was so full of joy. Euphoria was filling each cell of his body.
The pain is still there, simply ignored.
The dread.
The terror.
All the things of the past.
The only thing that mattered was now, this moment, this feeling, what he was about to do.
His left hand reached out, it happened so naturally like it was always meant to.
The fingers clasped around the blond hair, golden, gleaming in the morning rays of the sun.
The right arm pulled back, the elbow creaking, the skin on his fist making a loud noise as it rubbed against itself. So close to his ear. It was a melody, beautiful, uncomperable to anything, melody.
The first rained onto Klaus's face.
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
His skin raptured, muffled screams released with each hit.
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM SLAM
SLAM SLAM SLAM
Bones broke, and the skull fractured. Head bouncing back and forward, trying to escape from the confines of his neck. The only thing holding it in place was the grip on his hair.
SLAM SLAM SLAM
SLAM SLAM SLAM
The hairs were ripped. The clump lay within the clenched fist. Light-reflecting from the bundle of gold.
Without a thought, Luke shook them off. He put both his palms behind Klaus's head, thumbs propping up his head behind the ears. Right under the shattered jaws. Other fingers dug deeply into the neck, a death grip.
SLAM
Luke's forehead slammed into Klaus's face, all of his body weight put into motion.
SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM...
He didn't know how many times he did, what he did. It all blurred into one moment. One ecstatic moment.
What stopped him was the blood coating his eyes, he only saw red. The feeling of someone else's teeth digging into his upper lip, cutting at the base of his nose.
He barely notices that his head is sunken into Klause's skull, so he pulls back. Trails of Ichor following, connecting them. Brain matter, eyeball juice, and shards of bone coat Luke's face like a mask. Digging into his flesh.
He didn't notice when his knees buckled, his fingers broke the barrier of enemy skin, ripping at the muscle with each headbutt.
With straining effort, he pulled his head back and gazed upon his work. White film coated his cheek, the remnants of eyes, brain matter, and chunks of flesh covering his face in a macabre cloak.
What he saw was an indented, raptured, and shattered skull, its contents spilling out. The body was loose, dead, and unresponsive. Impaled on the metal spike. An ornament to cruelty.
He released his hold on the neck. What remained of the skull flopped downwards and its content spilled with a sloshing sound.
His goal was achieved, his mind was blank. He didn't know what to do. It was so overwhelming. So disorienting. Each and every part of his mind and body was tired, in pain, tattered. He was losing so much blood, that organ trauma was really starting to kick in, unable to even run the most basic of healing spells. Not enough energy to even take out anything from his storage.
He looked to the side.
The Sun was so beautiful, it took on the colors of Autumn leafs. Orange, brown, so warm, so enticing. So wonderful.
Just like her hair. Just like her.
The haze above the river wobbled, the air twisting, he could see Her. He could see her outline, her beautiful, silk-like flowing hair.
He started mumbling to himself. Not even words, just his mind relaying the feelings.
He wanted to say he was sorry. To apologize for who he was.
He wanted to finally tell her.
He extended his battered hand, covered in dried blood, with chunks missing, it shook in the air from the strain. He was trying to reach her.
Limping, he took a step forward. Like a zombie, he hobbled behind her. She was out of his reach. Just a step more, just one more step and he could feel her again,
Tell her...
His feet didn't find any surface to stand on, in his delusion, he crossed over the edge of the bridge, over the damaged spot in the railing the car punched through. His vision darkened as the sound of the rushing river filled his ears.
He just wanted to tell her.
* I love you *
Splash
As the cold water enveloped his body, everything went silent, darkness clouded his consciousness and the river currents took him away.
The End.
