115. Tomb Kings (II)

Mike came at him like a rabid animal. "DIE!" he shrieked.

Zane, meanwhile, was still feeling bad about the whole thing. In Zane's head Mike was still just a poor sad guy.

In that moment it was easy to forget Mike Masters was ranked top ten in the world—and he'd already slain another top ten World Ranker. And he had four Levels on Zane. And he had all the powers of an Elemental Law—at the time of day it was at its strongest…

Mike screeched and struck. His sword raced out in a jagged arc. Darkness tore though the air. And Zane got a wake-up call.

Zane felt it coming and he still almost didn't react in time; the speed of dark came blink-fast, just like the speed of light.

He ducked. And the thick black crescent whipped overhead. He had to arch straight back to limbo under another—

Then Mike vanished. One moment he was there; the next he just wasn't. It wasn't a trick. Zane couldn't even feel his soul anymore. What…?

He felt it again a moment later. An eruption of hate—right behind him.

Before Zane could turn, Mike struck him.

He wasn't ready for how heavy it was. Or how deep it cut—a good inch into the muscle. Even with Steel Body he staggered a step. Pain flared up his back; he whirled around and felt another painful spike as his back muscles tore with the effort.

Zane stopped feeling bad.

What was that? Why'd his back feel so gunky, so heavy, like someone had strapped a weight on him? He glanced under his armpit, where the slash ended, heard a gushing sound—saw blood fountaining out of him. There was the culprit.

Elemental Darkness. His whole back was gushing blood. Normally it healed pretty fast—not right now. He saw the white flames of Fiery Renewal working furiously. But they were sputtering out. Darkness smothered them. It had this endless quality, deep as the night sky; it felt like a heavy wet blanket; it crushed his flames to nothing. The wound wouldn't stop bleeding.

Before he could think more on it Mike came roaring out of the darkness again, frothing at the mouth. He screamed with each slash—"DIE, DIE, DIE!"

This time Zane managed to throw up his Chains. Darkness poured over Stormfire—and broke against it. An explosion shuddered the air. He staggered back a step, then another as a second slash rained down on him, pouring inky blackness. The third came through just as vicious as the last—and this time he barely warded it off.

Why did it feel like he was getting weaker?

Then he blinked and saw why. Stormfire smoldered everywhere—except where those slashes landed. Elemental Darkness clung to his Chains, smothering everything.

He couldn't keep stumbling backward, playing defense—he had to strike back! An Apocalypse Smash whipped out—

And in a blink Mike was gone. He'd just melted into the night. Zane's meteor lit up the night, raced down the field, leaving a trail of blinding destruction. But none of it hit the guy.

Then another lance of pain ripped up his flank, and he hissed.

Damn! Every time he got hit, it felt like adding an extra ton to his body. Just clinging onto him. He whirled around just in time to block his slash, then another; Mike howled, eyes bulging wildly. When he just swung like this Zane could block him just fine. CLANG! CLANG!

But the moment he tried loading up a Smash the guy just vanished—blipped somewhere else. And the next moment Zane felt a burning up the back of his thigh. He turned, growling, smashing—the guy was gone.

Alright. Fine.

He closed his eyes, frowning, really focusing; Mike kept carving him up but he didn't care. He could tank a few of these—he just wanted to get one good shot in. Apocalypse Smash lay ready and loaded; he closed his eyes, soaking in the space, just waiting. The moment Mike poked out—

There!

Zane lashed out. At the same time, he felt pain streak up his belly; he didn't care. His meteor blitzed through the air—

And hit nothing. Again. He tore a gaping, smoldering crater in already ruined ground—but that was all.

Seriously? Still too slow!

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘!

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝟝%!

He took another slash and staggered, hissing. Damn, but the guy hit hard; now Zane was limping a little. Pain flared with each step.

He knew what the problem was.

The sun had set now. It wasn't just Mike's Signature Skill, which made him a lot stronger at night. Mike was teleporting with that shade-walking Skill—and since it was night, he was pretty much always in shade. It was too easy to get away.

And when he was gone, Zane couldn't feel him. Even when he really focused. Sage Mind worked 'cause he could feel his opponent's attack before they struck; by the time it was in motion, it was just too late.

He frowned as he ate another shot, lunged at nothing—he felt pretty clumsy and silly doing it. The only bright side was his 'Wish Upon A Star' was halfway charged now. That was it. Otherwise he was kind of getting worked here.

This is stupid.

Zane frowned. No. No more of this 'closing his eyes, trying to time the guy' type of stuff. He knew what the problem under the problem was, too.

He was using his brain too much.

He went back to his tried-and-true motto. When in doubt, always use brute force.

His main problem, he thought—as he took a wound a little too close to his neck-veins—was that it was night-time.

So he threw up his Meteors. And opened the floodgates.

Just threw as much essence as he could bear into them; soon they shone pretty damned bright—but they still were nothing compared to the vastness of the dark.

Until he started Smashing. And Smashing. And Smashing.

Not at Mike. He couldn't hit Mike. Instead he smashed anywhere and everywhere. One on one side, one on the other, making big, happy, shining booms, torching the ground all around him, over and over. Soon it felt like an earthquake was shaking the battlefield. Stormfire raged through the air, crackling up a storm; spark-embers showered the plains, birthing new brilliant flames where they landed.

Zane did not care if the rest of the world thought it was nighttime. In Zane's opinion, it was only nighttime if he said so.

He just kept Smashing indiscriminately—even as Mike kept carving vicious cuts into him—down his chest, up his arms; the man was still going strong as ever—eyes red, frothing at the mouth, shrieking one long mournful note.

But the nice thing about being built big and thick was you had to cut him up pretty darn bad to actually bring him down.

In the meantime, Zane bombed the hell out of the whole battlefield. And now things looked plenty bright to him. Let's see where you hide now.

Sure enough, he heard a cry—"AARGH!"

He grinned.

He hadn't even caught the guy clean. Just splash damage. It still tore a good chunk out of him. Man, Zane loved explosions. Something about them just made his soul feel happy.

The idea was simple. If I can't hit you I am going to hit everything. You're part of everything. So I am going to hit you.

And he did. Again and again—cries of "AHHHH!" "HRNG!" "GAH!" echoed down the plains.

Now that he was hurting the guy—and making the battlefield a furnace—he'd expected Mike to slow down a little. Maybe step back, get out of range. Take a breather, you know.

But Mike was just too angry to care. Zane watched the guy lunge through a white-hot explosion—and eat the blast straight to the face. He flared up with pain, let out a howl—but barreled on through. And still almost slashed Zane's eyes out.

Honestly, he had the right idea. Even with his new trick Zane was still losing the battle of attrition.

He'd stumbled on this idea a little too late. He took a step and slipped on his own blood; he took another step, trying to steady himself, and almost went over. Since that patch was also stained red. Everything around him really. He blinked around… without Fiery Renewal to heal him, he'd leaked half a swimming pool, it looked like. He didn't even know he had that much blood inside of him.

Maybe that was why he felt so woozy…

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘!

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟘%!

𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

𝕍𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

Then that tank of power—the one he'd been waiting for—filled up at last. And smiled.

This should even things up.

You could hardly spot anything that wasn't on fire anymore. The shadows were already few and far between—then Zane raised his Meteors to the sky.

He made a Wish Upon a Star.

Light burst out of him. His meteors started burning so bright, so hot, they were like twin rising suns; they lifted the veil of darkness, washed away the last few pockets of night—a shocked-looking Mike stumbled gasping out of a shrinking puddle of shadow.

Gotcha!

The explosion swallowed everything.

Chunks of dirt shot so high they touched the clouds; a wall of shining white swept the world…

He didn't even hear Mike's scream. He did feel a flare of Darkness—a desperate try at defense. He also felt his Stormfire smash through it like water through a dam. And feast on the flesh beneath…

Then there was silence.

By the time Zane could make out color again, the battlefield was one enormous crater sinking dozens of feet into the ground. So utterly destroyed not even Stormfire would take to the blackened ruin. Even the ash was scorched to hell; exhausted piles of it leaked into the sky.

And then there was Mike.

Still alive, surprisingly—coughing badly though. His Darkness couldn't save him. Just the splash damage had his skin melting off his bones. He was just one huge patch of raw flesh now, half-blackened, like meat ruined by an amateur cook.

But he still managed to stand somehow. Wheezing and stumbling, sure, but he did, through an effort of sheer will. He was in horrific pain. But his anger still burned hot as ever. That was the power of love, Zane supposed. Maybe hate? Probably a bit of both—

He let out one last strangled scream. And he lunged.

And their battle entered its final stretch. He slashed. Zane smashed. He carved through ruined knots of muscle. Zane's blasts tore whole chunks off Mike's body; he heard a CRACK!, saw a gnarled husk of a hand go flying—it'd been scorched so bad it looked like a Halloween decoration.

But by then, Zane's wounds were taking their toll too; his head felt awfully dizzy; his body was so weighed down by dark essence every step was a struggle. He was a little worried he might black out.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘!

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%!

But it was Mike who went down first.

He emerged out of a patch of shadow twenty feet out, dragging in big gulps of air. He was charred to the bone from the neck down; his body looked like what one of those ancient mummies might look like if you unwrapped it. He tried stepping, and his whole leg crumbled off beneath him, splitting off in three chunks—foot, shin, thigh.

Hobbling like a flamingo, he stared at them. Then at Zane.

And his hatred peaked one last time. With it came an animal desperation. A sinister intent was forming—he was on his last leg. Literally. He didn't care anymore. He was reaching for a Skill, Zane felt—something risky, something dangerous—Zane wracked his mind for what it could be.

But there was only one.

𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝]

𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕕𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖, 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖'𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖'𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣. 𝔸 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙-𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕜, 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙-𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝. 𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥.

Uh…

"You may think you've won, Zane Walker," snarled Mike. "But our battle is only beginning!"

He cried out, thrust out his sword—and his eyes began to glow.

Darkness rushed out of it. But Zane just frowned at it. He didn't even dodge. One of those lines—

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖'𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖'𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣.

…Hmm.

Now—he had no experience in the astral plane or whatever. But he had a feeling he'd be just fine.

The shadows struck him straight in the chest. Tore through his soul-cloak resistance. And struck his soul flush.

Then his eyes, too, began to glow…