Everyone was scattered.
While Eros was confronted by four different Rank-0 Displacements in an Area akin to a train station, Alora was battling Umbra in the dojo.
But the most important battle was underground, where Maeve and Uriel stepped back from one another, following a clash of two swords.
The sparks illuminating his face quickly dissipated; she spun around and kicked at his head. The King caught her leg with one hand, raising his other hand to wield a heavenly hatchet.
Just before it could cut open her skull, a bullet flew, blasting off the weapon's edge.
Maeve kicked him in the other side of the head, throwing him into a wall.
Uri looked at her upon landing. 'That was… from her aura. Then it's just how the report said. Anything can be hidden with her aura and released immediately following the masters' command,' he thought.
Maeve's fist dashed through space—striving to punch through him. The King retreated into a golden portal. More gateways formed all around her and produced identical copies, slithering out to bombard her with blows.
Gore burst out her face, polluting the air. She choked on her blood amid the limitless attacks.
'He saw a single opening and immediately took advantage! Not only that, but this familiar signature is unmistakable. And here I thought it was odd the King somehow manifested a cloning-ability. It only makes sense… that I'm in his domain!'
And right she was. Engulfed by a black square, Maeve continued being relentlessly attacked within the territory, while the real Uriel stood outside. Upon retreating into his divine gate, the King used not only his immense Fate Mastery but the Crown's infinite power.
The activation and application of a Predestined Power plus a barrier's deployment. The process was instantaneous. The domain spontaneously combusted, scattering shards across the floor, revealing the weakened Displacement leaking from her wounds.
"You're… strong."
Uri wiped the dust off an abandoned air conditioner, "I know right? Don't you think the Crown's kinda OP?"
He sat down, revealing a cigarette and igniting the end. After he inhaled, smoke blew out of his mouth, infecting the air with its stench. The King looked at her; Maeve glared back. She was surprisingly immobile.
His head tilted, cradling the cig between two fingers. "Are you gonna say something or just keep staring?"
"I'm surprised. You're the New Kismet King, aren't you? How'd that happen?" she asked.
"You're surprised?" He chuckled, "I'm the one who's never heard of a friendly Displacement aside from Aella."
"Aella, huh? I remember her… she was the cute pink-haired one."
Uri nodded. "The one with the big butt," he smoked more from the cig. "It doesn't matter. The way things are going, I won't have the chance to ever see it personally or achieve my dream."
Humans always spoke of things called dreams like they were unattainable. But Displacements—for eternity all they knew was darkness and dreams. Then, one day, they somehow incarnated. Nobody knew the how or the why, but upon receiving physical flesh, all their dreams were instantly granted. Shining before their corporeal eyes were the sun.
Humans were different. They bathe in the sun and get to live blessed lives simply because they were born. How could someone who'd been blessed from birth possibly have any grander dreams than the reality before them?
"I don't understand humans. You all act like you're suffering, but you have the sun. That light encompasses all. Shouldn't that guide you more than anything?"
Uri leaned on his hand. "Our lives and value systems are different. You've lived out all your life in that prison Realm, right? Sounds like hell. I understand you for judging. That being said, humans aren't satiable creatures. I thought you'd know that, considering how long you've been incarnated and all," he said.
"Satiable… creatures..?" Her head turned. "What do you mean?"
The King sighed. "Humans don't desire more because they're ungrateful. It's simply in their nature. Granted, some people are truly ungrateful and so, act according to their idiocy. But those people are irrelevant. Talen, Anthony, Alora. Each is an example of humanity at its peak in some shape or form. They have the potential to abandon everything for the sake of their strength. That's what being a Fate user is."
'What surpasses the horizon of all anomalies alike is a Disaster akin to a calamity. A full-blown Monster,' Aella's voice rang through Maeve's head. "I see. You have trust in them, don't you?" she asked.
"I do," he nodded.
'Trust…'
Images of the past, seemingly one of fantasy and normality, flashed through her mind. Whether it be walking through the chilly night or sitting atop a city skyscraper, that pink-haired girl always stood beside her. During that memory's brief resurgence, a tear fell from the corner of her eye, etching her cheek with the shape of her sadness.
"I'd almost forgotten what that feels like."
"Yeah," Uri looked down. "Me too."
Maeve stood up and sat beside him, extending her hand. "May you give me one?"
He handed her a cigarette with his lighter after discarding his own—crushing it under his boot. Uriel stared at her while she smoked. Maeve glanced at him from her peripheral before fully turning, smirking at him.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just—" He leaned forward. "You're much calmer than you were when we first started fighting. Why? Cuz I beat you?"
She vented a smoke cloud. "I dunno. I wish I could explain it but… it's kinda hard. Speaking with you calmed me. I don't know why but it was a peaceful enough feeling to calm my fighting spirit and get me to open up. It's weird but doesn't feel weird. Does that make sense?"
Uriel pulled back. "I see. Well, that's good to know."
King Barron made a new friend.
But Alora wasn't so lucky. Instead, she flipped around in the enclosed passageway, landing on her feet and glancing at her flank. Umbra stepped into the corridor, resting the scythe on his neck, slowly following her.
"You're the one who killed Keres, huh? I see. I suppose being killed by one's daughter isn't the worst way to perish. Then again… I can't exactly say the same for you, can I?"
The silkiness of Andri's rasped intonation chilled her to the core; bumps appeared all across her skin. She shook away her fear and inhaled sharply, steadying her breathing.
'I'm the one who holds the advantage in close combat. That being said, I don't know his technique and that weapon's got a long reach. To achieve victory, I need to—'
Alora vanished and blitzed past the Displacement. Reappearing behind him, she conjured another sword, sinking it toward the base of his neck. Umbra quickly turned around, simultaneously kicking her in the bust. She stepped back—pupils instantly shrinking. Just as she prepared to retreat, a blackened smear flew past, cutting her on the arm while she jumped away.
She fell to her knees, holding the bloody wound.
"You're fast. I didn't know Fate users possessed that type of speed. Which're you? Agent or Enforcer?"
She spat blood out the corner of her mouth. "Enforcer. Former Agent," she wiped her lips.
"Ah, that explains it then. I've heard all I need to. You're not an enemy I can take lightly anymore. Consider this an honor, Alora."
Umbra extended his arm, pointing his fingers to the floor, "Azathoth."
The darkened aura that enveloped his limb expanded his muscles into a monstrous replicate. Hulking over her with a menacing shadow, Alora reflexively stepped back, until the thunderous knuckles socked her face. Umbra's arm returned to normal.
"My Predestined Power is Lovecraft. I can make other parts of myself fiction and use nonexistent monsters to replace those fictional parts. If my arm and the monster are both nonexistent, I could still use my aura to invoke that monster using my technique."
Alora emerged from the hole her body smashed into, "I have no idea what the fuck you just said."
"Good. It serves me well if you don't understand the technique!!"
Umbra's arm shot at Alora, morphing his fingers into tentacles and blasting them at her. She backflipped just in time to land on the tendrils, running along the bulk, simultaneously conjuring two more swords. Alora eventually kicked him across the face, hearing him thud into the wall beside them.
Andri was stunned. Only after glancing at his bloody palm did he react—stepping away to dodge her attack. The blur of her sword flew past his head every instance she repeatedly missed.
"You're strong, girl. At least now I know Atlas didn't want you for nothing!"
"We've been fighting for over three minutes and you just figured that out?" She swiped at his throat. He leaned back and flipped away. "I feel insulted," she said.
Andri sneered. "Really? My apologies then. That was never my intention."
"Uh-huh…"
"I mean it. The world is devoid of challenges nowadays. You're the first person since I've incarnated to grant me a proper duel." His hand raised–the Displacement grinned. "You have my thanks."
'Lovecraft: Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young.'
Blackened skeletons started producing from the ground. The more that crawled, the wider Alora's eyes became—tightening her hold over the glowing swords. Umbra smirked. His hand conjured another weapon from the darkness. This time, instead of a scythe, it was devoid of an edge--taking the shape of a lance.
"Let's end this quickly."
She dashed ahead and slashed at his chest. Twirling the spear around his fingers, Andri spun it around his waist, feeling the idle length peek around his hip before smashing her cheek. Alora took the hit. She ducked, dodging Umbra's follow-up kick to the face.
Sprinting under his leg, Illustrious simultaneously pierced his ankle, closing the distance following the attack. She grabbed him by the collar from below and pulled him closer, digging her skull into his features.
'Lovecraft: Dead Emperor of Banished R'lyeh!'
While Umbra reeled from the strike, nose bloody, his aura activated. Alora's fist cocked back. Once her knuckles descended, Andri's jaw was disturbingly unhinged. Unexpectedly, he pricked out a piece of his hair and threw it into the air, applying his technique. Using it as a medium, Umbra sent his winged squids forward—watching the Enforcer swipe them away upon latching onto her skin.
The Displacement advanced and threw his fist, hearing it explode against Alora's bust. She fell back, watching him advance, raising her fists. Their Fates lit ablaze, the fighters charged each other.
She slapped his hand away and punched him in the chin, throwing his head back. Following that, she grabbed him by the skull, guiding his features directly into the edge of her knee shattering his nose. Gasping for air and leaking from his face, Umbra fell back.
'Because I have the advantage at first range, I can cut loose and bombard my opponent!'
Alora's hands smeared across the air. Instantly, she punched him in the face, his gut, and square in the chest. The Displacement collapsed to his rear, holding his chest, bleeding from his face. She stood over him. The whisper of his labored breathing sunk into her ears—azure eyes looking down at him glistening at the core.
The Enforcer knelt beside him. "I knew I didn't feel any resistance for a reason. You gave up, didn't you?" She leaned closer. "Why?"
"This feeling is… abnormal. Over my thousand-year lifetime, I'd never quite felt anything like it. Nor have I endured a bloodier battle than the one we fought. Agony's sting should send me crying yet I remain here, idle, gazing up at you with nothing but elated tears in my eyes. This pain doesn't hurt me. This pain is something more. It means I am something more…" Holding his shoulder, Umbra sat up, groaning as he moved. "You sensed it too. That the reason I stopped fighting is that you damaged me. Because you're the only one… to ever damage me."
Her eyes widened. "S-seriously?" She sighed. Briefly, her gaze averted, then, she looked back at him. "Tell me your name. And not just that. Tell me everything. I want to know—about your world."
He couldn't believe his ears. Had she said what he thought she did? Did she want to hear about him? His world? His name? It didn't make sense. The last thing he remembered after incarnating is the epitome of that man—long flowing hair and an unavoidable intensity. Atlas, the Amit Progenitor, promised him a new world. A World of the Future.
'How long ago was that? Can I even remember… what he told me then?'
It wasn't just him. He remembered his family's faces. The almost-infinite scourge of Displacements—all ensnared by the fangs of his dream. For the first time in centuries, Umbra thought back to his humanity, when he was but a man in the world beyond the Kismet Empire. For some reason, a brief reference to those memories was all it took.
One tear fell from the corner of Umbra's eye, coursing down his cheek until his head turned to face his would-be executioner. Alora was surprised.
'I didn't know—' She stopped herself. The Enforcer sighed.
"My world? Alright. If you so wish it then… I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."
To Be Cont.