The eyes of Eternal Sight. The offensive Divergence, the defensive Convergence- both implanted into the sockets of the Wilder siblings, descendants of the forsaken all-powerful Requiem Reaper. Infamous for naming himself the strongest superhuman to ever grace the soils of the Old World, and that was a multitude of reasons.
Corrupted Bolt - Red inherited by Ace, the current wielder of Divergence, code-named the Scarlet King.
Orderly Thunder - Green inherited by June, the current wielder of Convergence.
Among these two, there were a versatile set of sub-abilities either their father left behind for them or simply manufactured by mastery of the powers. However, there were secrets within these abilities only those who were close to August would know, but close doesn't mean something as simple as a friend or classmate, someone you see every day. Rather, it'd be more accurate to state that even being related to him, whether it be his sisters or mother, even they shan't dare ask the truth of the Eternal Sight's depths. Yes... only a select few knew of this technique.
"Did you know my eyes tire me out after having them exposed for too long? That's why I wear the shades," Ace, resting against the wooden stage floor, arms behind his head, asked this casually of Katie; meditating.
"I assume June doesn't get tired easily cuz she doesn't have many offensive capabilities? That makes sense, though she sleeps a lot when she'd come back from working out."
Katie didn't bother turning around, meditating as her master told her atop Everest, continuing the conversation with her cousin nonchalantly. Legs crossed together, eyes closed, all fingers' tips converging to touch against the thumb, Ace, just barely letting one scarlet orb peek, could make it out. The slight glimpse of her still body produced afterimages, as if she were the Buddha himself, with multiple affixed arms spreading out her sides.
"It takes a while but when she knocks out, she knocks out like a damn baby. The reason for that is..."
Griffith slammed his fist into the ground, June rolled out the way, toward the right. Transitioning to a crouch, she clapped her hands together, slamming palms onto the floor, coursing it all through her veins, discharging it out her skin. Hanniel swatted the incoming wave away, feeling his fingers sing, smoke levitating off them, another impact came right into his gut. The next thing he knew, blood belonging to his insides had entered the space between his lips and the air, unable to catch his breath.
She wasn't afraid to follow up, too, for both hands forcefully clasped the skull's sides, charging his head down to meet with her knee, ascending further and further to protrude above. More blood.
'This is too easy.' Thought June amid the attack's aftermath, pupils of Convergence darting rapidly within the eye's confines, clenching her teeth.
Griffith, even with a broken bloodied nose, falling back for the back of his head to hit against the floor, couldn't help but stay rebellious. Sticking up the middle finger on the way down, from below, there started to emerge thorns with a blue afterglow. Easily enough, all she had to do was jump back, allowing those tendrils gifted a green highlight surrounding them to exit her pores, attaching to walls, like a spider spinning a web.
'He doesn't know how to control this power properly. This is still... too easy.' June concluded, forming her fingers to make a gun shape, the tip of the pointer aimed down right there; a clear shot, his heart.
There had to be something more than this, right? If she could shoot the slightest bit of Orderly Thunder, cleanse his soul of this corruption, wouldn't that be the end?
'I'm tired OF BEING HELPLESS!!!'
Those words panged across the halls, her eyes searching as if curious of what to do, for eventually, these tendrils would reduce. It'd seemed the time had come, while Griffith was no longer the man they'd known, even from the start, it was clear to her. What laid beneath this hide of flesh was none other than a wailing soul trapped into a corpse begging to be freed. Jefferson, through hazy vision, could barely make out the scenery before June vanished, a shockwave blasting his ears, sending them ringing. The grey thickness of the smoke cloud started to dissipate, revealing June, standing atop the chest of the Hawk, one foot constraining his ribs.
"A-agh.. g-get... off..." The longer she stood, the more she prohibited his breathing. For a tortured soul somehow slammed into an already-dead body, maybe tormenting further wasn't the correct option, for she'd slid her foot off at his request.
"I know you can probably kill yourself with a spell but before you do, I have a question. How are you... alive?" J
June kneeled beside his face, arms casually resting against her legs, Griffith's lips could only mutter, for the damage she'd done to his chest impaired the ability to speak louder. There existed the element of chaos, shadows at play behind their heads and backs, the wildcard that held the cards not only in his hands but in his soul, too.
"What do you think that Jester guy's after?" Katie intruded upon her meditation to query her ginger cousin.
"Hard to say, it could be a buncha shit. After all, he's a literal wildcard; kinda makes it hard to anticipate anything 'bout that asshole. He tortured me for almost a week, I don't even know why and even still, he's alive somehow. If I could think of a way to describe him, whatever his play is… is Chaos."
The Hawk was too weak to say anything further, maybe it would reveal too little, but there had to be something. He'd wronged them all in such a way… there was nothing he could truly have done to atone for it. And even so, Griffith weakly uttered out, in the most gradual manner possible,
"Jester… has… the… D-"
His face had immediately crumbled, inverting in and of itself, the bones from within protruding out through his cheeks. Blood coagulating instantly, crippled bones creaking from within, his head tumbled off his shoulders. No sense of gore sprayed out, no blood cut it off, even June was startled, squeaking out in astonishment at the suddenness of the event. It all made sense, though, for maybe the trench coat he was wearing hid it from Jefferson's view, but across his neck- there were obvious stitches.
Her hands lifted his head, examining them, or rather, the marks they'd previously made when they were intact. Either way, it was obvious that Griffith was simply a corpse, a puppet for someone to control for their selfishness. The first assumption would be the Head's group, whoever he belonged to, however… there was something off about that thesis. Did the Bureau hold the ability to control the soul? Then again, with the world, they resided in and the abilities they had, nothing seemed impossible.
"Interesting. Ace would've been knocked out by now. I'm sure the Founder will find this useful… and now, it's your turn, deadbeat."
Still overlooking the scene from behind the building, casually sitting against another random's rooftop, Chrollo watched this like he were a viewer on a show. Events unfolding before his eyes, a mere bystander inciting chaos from behind the scenes, Icarus, like an anxious watcher from behind a screen… couldn't help but smirk as he anxiously awaited the next episode.
To Be Continued.