The Grave Reaper

Half in awe and half in ecstasy, I watch as the edge of my knuckles makes an impact with the bizarre manifestation of a Dominion. For a split second, a bright light of pure friction emerges between our collision, and then everything turns white as I'm forced backward from the raw energy released. Yet, I do not let myself tumble.

I dig my heels into the ground as the Dominion recedes, shattered by my Freedom and my own soul. Then... as the army around me is sent hurtling in every which way from the collapsing air, leaving just me and this Dominion facing each other...

A deep breath fills my lungs once more. My soul expands, reaching beyond my still-mortal coil, and I pull. I pull with all the might within my being.

For an instant, for a tiny moment, I could swear the storm around me paused, obeying my call. Yet, I do not harp on it as this demon stumbles from my Dominion yanking on his own soul. While he is slightly distracted, I surge forward, breaking rock and stone with each step.

We meet in only a second, with my opponent's hands turning into those awful Otherplanar jaws. Nonetheless, I know their moves as they make them, being able to see their soul and all. So, I sink beneath their left hand-jaw, ending into a crouch, and instead of forcing the Ether out of my fist for an Explosion, I release it out of my foot.

Swifter and more dangerously than any spring in the world, I rebound at the Dominion before their jaws can do anything. Opening my arms, I tackle the bastard to the ground, tightening my arms and locking them with me. Then, when I have them trapped, I bare my soul into theirs, staring into the demon's widened and corrupted eyes.

Other creatures are running at us, managing to brave the remnant devastation, but I don't look at them. Flesh and bone sprout from my body, shooting outward to obliterate any of the weaker ones while I focus on this Demigod.

His eyes are defiant. He believes wholeheartedly in his God, shouting that she won't let him lose. I think otherwise. I will make it so. Our souls meet, and I force his into submission. His Dominion vanishes in only a moment as I whisper to myself.

"I am my own God."

My fingers wrap around his neck as his Ether assaults me, his Darklight invades me, and his Power, a wave of nauseating sicknesses that pivot from disease to disease at his touch, attempts to erase my grip. But I do not yield. Bit by bit, my hands tighten until my mind flashes back to the very first man I killed.

Or one of them. I don't honestly remember it... perfectly. Being choked out like that isn't conducive to memories.

I'm in the opposite spot, strangling someone else.

The moral thought lasts for not even an instant. It's stupid to consider. I am not that Outlaw. I never will be. No matter... no matter how gruesome it gets. I will not enjoy the murder. I will only enjoy the growth.

Blood splatters everywhere as the man's head...

Pops off like a doll's porcelain skull.

It tumbles onto the ground, rolling several feet before I gather myself together. Backhanding a rushing Power, the speed of my movement enough to shatter air, I lurch forward, dashing straight for the Demigod's skull with Arbalest.

A simple decapitation may not end a regular Dominion. It probably would, but not necessarily. A Fallen one? Not at all.

Leaping over a collapse of the earth as some Motherbound endeavor to slow me, I kick the regenerating head as powerfully as I can. The thing cracks and splinters in the sky, soaring over the scores of Darklight. I don't let my eyes lose track of it, however. I still sense some life in it.

So... I beeline right for the skull, lashing out a Living Manacles specifically for it. But I'm just a tad too slow, allowing it to fall along the rows of the horde staring right at me. Not that it stops me. I...

Take a deep breath, one Freeing me to my core, and I greet the jabbering demons the only way I know how. The thing I've learned best in my whole life. Violence. Pure, raw, unadulterated violence, channeling every lesson ever taught by that old Soldier.

"Stop him! We must continue! Don't let Jabberwak die!"

As I charge forward, the corrupted horde stands in my path, a grotesque amalgamation of twisted forms and foul Ether. Their filthy presence seeps into the air, suffocating and oppressive, forcing the Underworld itself to bend the knee. I won't let it fall so easily. The other regions, maybe, but not mine. Not under my watch. Those people will live. They will see the sun again.

Those kind soldiers who brought me to Edmund... They will continue their afterlives.

With each step, I feel their hatred pressing down on me, another Demigod hidden somewhere in their midst, but I dont hesitate. Lennon is elsewhere, killing just as fast, if not more lethally than I am. Meanwhile, Aniwye and Abraham are at the back, slaying scores with their minds and their constructs. Knowing they are with me... I dive in.

The creatures lash out with gnarled claws and jagged teeth, but that is only the surface. Each being here is at least of the 4th Sigil, not a single Base present. As such... the storm of Ether from hundreds of powerful figures and many Angels is not simple. I only dodge the Powers and the Ether that seem to spark a Dzil.

Otherwise, I raise my right arm, barreling through all and all obstacles while Living Manacles slits throats and Blodwyn detonates heads with bloody bullets. Despite their regenerative abilities, a tiny wound becomes something much more significant, part of the reason why I could so easily rip off the Demigod's head. Blodwyn's Bloodlet is just as lethal as my Shape is.

A tiny scrape... it swoons into a river of blood. A collapsing throat is decapitated.

Bit by bit, I carve a path through the Motherbound, gradually dyed in both their multi-colored demonic blood and the Darklight itself. Both sink into my flesh, invading that which I am. I rebuff the attempts on my being, preferring to devour the souls of those I crush underfoot.

With every fallen Motherbound, my soul strengthens just a little more. It's tiny, almost impossible to notice, even those of Angels, but... Vincent taught me something. Enough grains of sand can encase Gods into eternal coffins.

It is the little things that add up. Enough hands can carry any weight. But that goes both ways.

Amidst the chaos, I catch sight of the towering figure of the horde's Demigod, partially regenerated. It has both legs but no arms, and the tendrils of Darklight hurry along to finish the job.

Smiling, I lock eyes with them, but I don't just force my way toward them. There is another Dominion here somewhere. Still, that's what the Ballista is for. So, cautiously but not too much that I would reveal my knowledge, I bat aside the Motherbound who seem to only desire my death.

Of course, the 'slap' is a slice of my bladed prosthetic arm that ends in a rain of crimson.

Nevertheless, I quickly catch the decapitated fellow, bereft of arms, as jaws reemerge above me, diving into devouring my everything. Our eyes meet, this thing telling me that it won't fall for the same trick twice. Good thing I have many.

Splitting a portion of my soul off, the pain searing through my being, I forge a spine of bone with Blodwyn's help. Soon, I won't need him. Soon... soon I can make that bone all on my own.

I aim the spike at the falling teeth conjured from a being I've never heard of in the slightest. It is... nothing but darkness, tentacles, and teeth. As the danger falls for me, another sparks behind me.

My foot moves on its own, sidestepping as I feel my Ether, and by extension, my soul moves independently of my thoughts. My second Dzil explodes into action as I stab the spike to my left behind me and point the Ballista toward this 'Jabberwak' fellow.

Time seems to pause as a stiletto hangs an inch from my eyes, the long cylindrical dagger lengthwise across my face. Meanwhile... my 'stiletto' is gouged deep within this Dominion's forehead. Simultaneously, a bolt formed from Madness penetrates Jabberwak's soul-forged maw and sinks into his heart.

My first enemy falls to his knees while the second can only stare at me with open, questioning eyes. I answer him if only to rip out the Soulbone more.

"My best friend is far harder to catch, even without a Dominion's flair. Don't be so obvious."

Turning, I face Jabberwak while the horde screams in shrill fury, renewed with dangerous vigor. Flipping the Soulbone on my left, I reform the construct for Ballista on my right.

"We will make you pay for this. For all of this!"

Jabberwak howls at me in pain, ripping out the sublimating bolt from his chest. The hole closes in only an instant, informing me just how similar we are. Closing my eyes, I merely feel the ingestion of a Demigod's soul, enjoying the brief calm and relaxation amongst the bloodshed.

"I'm sure you will."

***********************

Killian 'Undying' Graves

A prolonged bout of air fills my vanished lungs. The only thing... the only thing keeping me from leaving this body is the combination of my Power and that which makes me partially Godly.

Undying keeps my soul in my body, allowing organs that don't exist to function nonetheless, and Immortal manipulates lifeforce, both to regenerate from others, magnify my own, and... weaken adversaries.

There is only one problem, a massive, glaring issue, as I stare down at this figure. Well, two, with the first being that Death has no lifeforce for me to steal. Second, though, is that Death has been ripped from her... 'coffin' that the Devil placed her in. The poor bastard couldn't kill his own wife when she turned, instead forcing her to live a miserable existence for a thousand years.

Now, though, here she is. Primordial Death in all her magnificence.

Before our slight group looms the God herself, the Pale Lady of the endless void. She who embraces all with chilling finality. Her presence is an abyss, her countenance veiled by the vast darkness of her hood and her form shrouded in robes that seem to stretch into eternity as the tattered threads never seem to end. The gleaming scythe in her grasp is a harvester of fates, of souls, standing tall against my hobbled back.

She is primordial, a timeless force likely older than my planet itself. Her existence is only predated by the birth of stars and the boundaries of space and time itself. In her presence, I am but a mere mortal. The fact I am a Demigod means nothing to her as it would against another Natural. Worse yet, she has been corrupted by another force—one far more devious.

There are three of us who still oppose her, something that astounds me. I would have figured Alexos and Eli would have long fallen to her winds of banishment or her Reapers, but neither succumbs to the darkness. I'm happy not to be alone.

Sure, they are injured, but none are dead. Cracks and open holes encompass Eli Weiss's whole being, while Alexos is just as incomprehensible as usual. The way he controls either, to me, is reminiscent of Remington's absurd manipulation. Unfortunately, it is just us three, as I cannot use Reaper's Seal before her. Partially sealed as she was, I could brute force her resistance, but no longer.

And yet... with the Devil's help from before... killing her is not an impossibility. It is only a matter of time. Her clothes are tattered, more than when she appeared, and dark ichor has fallen all over.

My arms may hang limp, but... my title was not unearned. The lithe woman beneath those robes shifts to stare at me. She knows the main threat to her existence here, even with a shattered soul. Our brief pause, forced by her own doing, is punctuated by the most soothing voice in all of existence. Of course, she would sound delightful, like that of a siren in the deep.

"Why must we fight? Come. Join the family. I resisted for long, too, but... it is so much better not to be alone. To have those you can depend on. Even... Even in that... trap, I was never alone... LOUIS! I WILL END YOU! HOW COULD YOU!?"

The calm, composed tone frantically switches to madness as she pivots to think of the 'trap' she was placed in for nearly a millennium by her love.

The rage of the veiled lady sparks action from Eli as he dives in, shifting left and right dubiously while the very air simmers with death itself. The Concept is in the air, decaying and killing all that is alive. Any creature that came close would lose the breath in its lungs long before Kuro had to move.

Good thing... each of us has a way around it.

Eli is neither dead nor alive, unbeholden to Kuro.

Alexos, while an Undead with her gift, is untraceable. She cannot return that which she cannot find.

As for myself... while I am alive... My life is not something so easily stolen. I guard it tightly, more so than anything in all existence. Without my life, I am nothing. I am but dust.

Seeing Eli move with a duplicate of himself only a few feet away, I nod to Alexos, or where I think he is. A waving hand appears at my focus, so I sprint ahead. The joints in my legs are nonexistent, but the force comes from Ether to replace them.

Skills, nearly a dozen, bolstered by Immortal, allow me to move with the grace of a Rogue and the predation of a Soldier. That vile aura eats into my life with additional fury the more proximate I am to the God, yet my steps only grow in force.

My first Dzil knows me all too well. Deathless, my original promise to the world. The name alone is enough. Blood fills the edges of my vision as I gain clarity, momentum, and power with each inch I grow closer to this woman, literally and figuratively.

It is not dissimilar to Travis' old skill, but I made my own from the ground up. Pain as a source wouldn't quite work.

Explosions ring out, moving the God to action. Kuro swings her terrible scythe for Eli's body, the real one, and the madman doesn't dodge. He raises a hand and winks at me. A second later, nothing but porcelain fills the air.

But within that second, both Alexos and I act. Reaching into my back, I tear out my own spine, something I haven't had to do since I forced Leviathan to retreat over a decade ago. Undying and Immortal fall into overdrive as they keep my body working. Meanwhile... my 'spine' is that of a terrifying being.

The beast of the Cardinal. No name exists for it. So, I gave it one before I killed it. Aqua. With the spine, I draw the Wilting Datura with my other hand. The 2nd Lumen glows with both its amazing power and its imperfect construction.

Remembering the words Vincent warned me with upon bestowing the Colt onto me the day after I gained Immortal, I shiver slightly. He was right. He always has been.

"if there comes a time that the Datura must wilt, know this, Killian. I could not save you. Do ask for my help. Pray that you are as stubborn and vengeful as I believe you to be. Do not enter the sands."

Time itself slows beneath the Datura's whim, but it is not without cost. Time... the Datura is a flower, the only flower that can bloom within the Sandy River. Somehow, Arnold found one. But he was not good enough to perfect his creation. Few ever are. I was lucky the beast of the Cardinal's spirit was so willing.

Life drains from me at an expeditious rate while Alexos dances with Death. A thousand illusions and ten thousand manufactured falsities keep him alive while another two Eli's exist.

I aim Arnold Pilner's greatest failure at Death, lamenting on how much I wanted little Lily to have the honor, and I squeeze the trigger. The bullet soars through the air, sinking into Death's cloak and burrowing beneath the God's flesh. An anguished cry fills the air as I trudge forward, letting more of Datura's false beauty shine in exchange for my own life. This will not kill her, but it is one of the petals to end her.

Datura's Timeseeds detonate as I accelerate, and time ceases to be even slowed. Now, it is glacial. Not even Dominions can move with the rate of an animal. Instead of being affected like the others, I swing the invincible spine at Death while she moves at a crawl. Nevertheless, the God is a God.

Specters form, blocking the first swing, so I continue, using both Alexos and Eli's distractions and aid to their utmost. I strike at her relentlessly, each blow fueled by the relentless cadence of a thousand ideal strikes per second. Between Datura and Immortal, I am burning a decade per second. That is fine. I only need a few. And... I'll gain more soon. Immortal makes me need less anyway.

Her spectral minions, ghostly Reapers and ghastly wraiths, obviously conjured of literal Undead somewhere in the Underworld, swarm around her in a futile attempt to shield their mistress from my onslaught.

I carve through the veil of darkness that surrounds her, inching ever closer to her elusive form. Each strike brings me nearer to piercing her defenses, to breaching the barrier between mortality and the eternal abyss.

This woman and I have been at odds for a long time. For a long, long time. Forty-four years. Since my very first day on this earth, born on a battlefield of blood and suffering, like most Graves, I have done nothing but wage a lonely war against this God.

Three oaths. I swore three things to this world, and I will have them all completed.

Fury, piping hot, radiant rage, gives me the confidence to burn away my future to kill this bitch. Her pale skin beneath her many veils reveals itself more and more as I gradually land a cut here or there. Death begins to bleed as I start to wrinkle.

Eli and Alexos back away as Death finally starts to react to my movement herself, doing more than relying on her Ether and all other sorts of Godly bullshit. She swings her scythe for my head, swift but slower than me.

Slipping under it, I slash open her thigh, refusing to relent for a moment, no matter how many souls she brings into it. Death must die. Whipping past a screaming wraith of some Undead, I punch a Reaper aside with Datura.

Second by second, Death slows like that of a cold winter. Datura's poison is setting in, an incurable venom doused within time itself. None of her many 'minions' can even touch me, no matter the fact that Eli and Alexos are having difficulties with one each. I have... no idea how many are following my coatails. Even the weak Undead are turned into awful monsters between the Darklight and the Godly nature of their conjurer.

Our battle, however, ends almost anti-climatically as I bash Death's face in while sliding past her scythe. She stumbles back, Darklight building up to a dangerous crescendo in preparation of doing something, but I never let her get that far.

Stepping forward, I reach out, grabbing her by the hood and hauling the Pale Lady to meet my gaze. For a split second, before I shove the spine of Aqua, the First Lifeform, into her mouth, I see her face.

It is... beautiful, made of nothing but the most perfect alabaster marble. She resembles Nahullo in her facial structure, which is wide and angular, but... I don't witness it for very long.

Following the impalement to the ground, I rip out the spine and skewer Death again and again, even as all her many constructs and conjurations do the same to me. Even as my heart leaves and my skull shatters, I rip away all that is Death.

I bite into her marble flesh. I scratch away at all her everything. I tear away each aspect of this cruel creature. And... eventually... her howls end that I didn't even know started.

Leaning back, I stare upward at the now-clear ceiling of the Underworld on my knees while a sensation flows through me. It is done, the promise I gave Mother. It is done, Koral. I killed the bitch.

I only ever got to speak to your remnant soul within your Arca, but I know you would have been there for me if you could've been. Instead... I was left to him... to Vincent.

One God down. Two to go until I'm satisfied. Until then... I will not die.

My mangled knees provide just enough power for me to stand. As Death's body rapidly deteriorates, I grip her hooded cloak, wrapping it around myself the instant the God vanishes into nothingness. Well, not nothingness.

Her Divinity remains, as something like that, a consolidated aspect of reality, can never be destroyed. My knees stabilize for only a moment while Immortal helps me stand, but it is quickly ruined by... Kuro.

The very Concept of Death fills my being from this Mortal Veil while fighting against my own Concept. My vision warbles and struggles as I see Alexos slowly turn to ash, his gift relinquished finally. Tugging on a muscle endowed from the invading finality, even as I fall to a knee, I return it to him and all the others.

This... this will not be easy. No mortal is meant to withstand Godly might. Not... not even a Graves. How long do I have? I am unsure. This thing is... it is attached to me now. It will only vacate my corpse.

I only know I will make it long enough to kill those two and say goodbye to someone I've hardly had the chance to know.