The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

The second impact went much worse than the first, image-wise. During the wind up the punch Randidly could almost feel Elhume’s attention shifting from other concerns, likely Devick’s toil, and settling on the possessed body of Techetadore. Aether wisped off of the walls and seemed to reinforce the attack. The additional focus meant the power sharpened from Elhume being comparable to…

Dominant.

Randidly’s body ached as he flew backward, crashing into the wall of the crystal chamber. The Aether did not crack; in fact, the impact caused it to furiously expand. He kicked away from the wall, both to hurry back to the fight and because if he had stayed, it was possible the wall would have tried to expand and settle around his body.

Not enough for your former body to have locked itself away, but you also wanted to make sure any covetous hands were punished, eh Solomon? Well, I suppose I understand why you would be so petty, struggling against someone like this…

His vision swam, but he stabilized himself. He forced aside the surreal feeling of fighting against Elhume, even in a projected form and focused. This was not the Elhume he had encountered in the memory; this was Fiero, ascendant and overwhelming after being baptized by the Pinnacle and betraying Elhume.

It starts here, Randidly breathed out of his nose. And it doesn’t stop until there is an end.

Waves of heat rolled off Randidly’s body as he plucked up all the kinetic disturbances and sharpened them into a blade. His Homunculi’s Engineered Adaption, his upgraded Vitality, hummed to life and increased its Rarity from Legendary to Mythic. His Nether Core spun faster and faster, unleashing waves of significance that reinforced his body. The lingering remnants of Elhume’s image were burned away from his skin.

His root wings spread wide as he flew forward. The event horizon center around his eye widened, devouring more of his face. The Dread Homunculus fixated on Elhume, marking down the impediment in front of him.

Luckily, Elhume didn’t attempt to take advantage of the delay. He waited above the grinding forces of the Swacc Family and the Vulpis Squad, just waiting for Randidly to return. More blood dribbled out of his nose, completely unnoticed by the puppet master manipulating the Vulpine’s limbs.

His hands clenched into fists. Shit… shit…! I’m finally here, huh? I’m finally standing in front of Elhume. I can take his punch. I’ve improved. As long as I keep advancing-

As though the monstrous tyrant atop the Nexus had heard Randidly’s thoughts, Techetadore’s mouth opened in a creepy smile. The light in his eyes grew brighter, to the point it began to leak out of other orifices. His nose, his ears… and then the light began to ooze from his skin. Another humanoid form stood, shadowy and vague, superimposed atop the six-tailed fox.

“Randidly… Ghosthound.” Elhume released a breath, now almost fully present. “You will regret this obstinancy.”

“I might die, but I will never regret,” Randidly spat out the words, even as he circulated his Aether and Nether as quickly as he could manage. “It will be a great pleasure to tear down this monstrosity you have built.”

The blurry energy figure within Techetadore blazed. The First Fist, unleashed for the third time, filled Randidly’s entire awareness. It seemed to scrape against the walls of the crystal chamber as it rumbled forward, carving out small bits of crystal that hadn’t even shivered when Randidly had smashed against it.

Randidly settled into a fighting stance. He squeezed Acri. For now, he trusted his subordinates. So much lay ahead of him on this crusade, he could not play out his entire hand now. His purpose was to delay while fighting for his life. Because he refused to allow the light to dim in Raymund’s eyes… like he had seen in so many others.

He refused to allow his subordinate to experience that raw, vast, isolating pain of losing someone precious, as Randidly had when Helen died. And he believed that Raymund Ballast would find a way to liberate his brother.

Roaring, he advanced forward and thrust his spear.

*****

In the middle of the Swacc Family column, Shal supported his allies confronting the rebels and refused to allow his gaze to rise. He took short steps, lashed out with his heavy weapon, and only concerned himself with the immediate vicinity.

For several reasons: he wished to improve himself, and that meant remaining disciplined. Looking up with any sort of emotion in his heart would be a repudiation of all that he had given up in his pursuit of power. Second, his allies needed him; despite their superior numbers, the rebels were in fact pushing the Swacc Family back. Their side might be armed with images wrought into tools, but the other didn’t fall behind in raw power.

Third… to look up would be to admit a painful truth. To acknowledge an existence that proved him to be a fool.

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Without selling out, without comprising as Shal had, Shal’s student had ascended to the cusp of the Pinnacle. His power filled the sky with choppy waves of violence. Although Randidly Ghosthound simply absorbed ELhume’s blows while being driven back, he doggedly avoided any serious injuries.

He could change the Nexus. His existence became more than just a life. It became a sign that a shift had become inevitable. It just became a matter of who would best seize the opportunity in front of him.

Shal tried to remain focused, shifting and preparing to attack when given an opening. He had upgraded to a new Armament, one focused on the solid and reliable weight of metal in hand. It was a blunt, unrefined image, a weapon without form, but it had been selected, harvested, and forged for its vast potential. Now, Shal could barely interface with the Armament and shift its focus to the blurry form of the spear.

Shal gritted his teeth as a Swacc Family Member was forced backward, a gladius stabbed into his shoulder. With a great heave, Shal whipped up the heavy weapon and deflected the follow-up blow.

The other party reeled backward from the impact. Shal just felt numb, watching. Even blurry, this weight of violence was beyond him.

Directly in front of him, two other Swacc bodies parted. A bright light descended from above, due to the two powerful individuals fighting in the sky. He knew he needed to stay focused on his fight.

Instead, Shal looked up.

He couldn’t help himself. Even though it hurt, he wanted to see. An entire corner of his heart was dedicated to his first and only student. He felt pride first, watching Randidly Ghosthound fighting against the overwhelming light of Elhume.

Then the impact came, more devastating than any of the previous hits. The crystal chamber rumbled, then rumbled again as the kinetic waves bounced off the crystalized Aether that refused to absorb it. An echo just as vicious as the original swept back through So the two armies were smacked twice, back and forth, by the reverberations from the battle above.

The impacts forced the fighting into a brief lull.

Because Shal had looked up at just the right moment, he had seen it coming. While the others were still dazed, while his fellow Swacc family members gripped their Armaments and tried to stabilize the rigid images caged within, Shal saw an opening. He stepped forward without thinking, first with a step, then bounding up toward the figure of Randidly Ghosthound. His thoughts felt molten.

Even if I’m proud… that just means I need to teach you with my own hands. Shal felt bitter tears in his eyes. That in this world, you cannot-

His gaze flickered. He whipped his weapon around, deflecting a thrust of pure orange light that had been aimed at his side.

The moment of opportunity had passed. A determined woman leveled her spear at Shal, standing between him and his student. Below and above, the battle rejoined. They were two individuals caught in between. Shal’s eyes smoldered as he looked at the woman.

“Alana Donal,” He chewed out the words. He released a pulse of the heavy image contained in his Armament. She simply raised his spear and smashed the image pulse to pieces, causing him to snort. “Do you think the student of my student can defeat me? Step away, or I will run you through.”

Alana kept her lips together, motes of orange light drifting out from her pure stance. But another voice cut across their confrontation. “Randidly isn’t her master, I am.”

A slender young woman materialized behind Alana, her arms crossed in front of her chest. More apparition than woman, she possessed a tangle of white hair and piercing eyes. Shal couldn’t believe it. “Azriel Blanche? You yet live? If you wish to be shown the limits of your talent, fight me yourself. Do not send this girl-child to die.”

“This girl child has already stopped you once, Shal,” Alana finally spoke. She spun her spear and settled back into her stance. The orange light around her felt strangely pearlescent and smooth. “And I will do it again.”

“Besides,” Azriel raised her hands and wiggled her fingers at him. “I have given up the pursuit of violence you follow. I hold a spear no longer.”

“How can a student learn from a Master who does not use a spear?” Shal glared. His mind bristled with wishes, that they were not here, that he could simply reach Randidly, that he could prove-

Azriel shook her head. “I pity you, Shal. You never understood, the spear is just a tool, like so many others. A myriad paths to power exist. Isn’t Randidly proof?”

“Any coincidence may masquerade as proof before the status quo reasserts itself,” Shal said. His heart felt cold, even as his mind boiled. He needed to open his student's eyes, so he launched himself forward before he finished speaking. He swept his weapon in an arc, meaning to crush Alana sideways and hurry upward before the next conflict between Elhume and Randidly made the approach impossible.

Yet the orange light around Alana sharpened. Her spear caught his weapon, bringing the two of them into a trembling deadlock. But this was a foolish decision; his eyes narrowed and Shal brought to bear all the wicked violence possessed in his Armament-

“The Second Revelation: Struggle.”

Alana’s energy turned frenzied. Even still, she couldn’t overcome the power of the Armament, but her image twisted and then slid sideways, disengaging from him and creating some space. Shal was bringing his weighty weapon back around when she spoke again.

“The First Revelation: Advance.”

Shal jerked sideways. His eyes widened— despite his response, she had taken a deep bite out of the shoulder with her spear. Blood dribbled down his arm.

Azriel laughed. “So this is your limit Shal? I do not think you will be able to entertain Alana for very long with such enthusiastic attacks.”

“If I-” Shal began to speak but then clamped his mouth shut. Because what he had wanted to say was that this would have been over in only a few moments had he been wielding a spear, as opposed to this vague metal hunk. His teeth ground as he watched Azriel’s eyes turn crescent with mirth.

He shook his head. He raised his weapon, glaring at Alana Donal. She waited patiently for him, the air around her filling with more and more motes of orange light. Shal growled and unleashed a pulse of heavy violence, pushing those motes out of the way. He stepped forward, his feet light, trying to imbue his borrowed image with a bit of lightness.

The lightness of a phantom. The lightness of a serpent.

Alana Donal gave him a penetrating look. All the ugly emotions in Shal's chest seemed to freeze. The orange light around her body began to shimmer. “The Third Revelation: Anguish.”

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