• Chapter 10: Pressure

    Adeiazo’s blade whirred through the air. Nocturn barely dodged it, as he was blinded by the smoke that emanated from the beam of energy that the Elite had fired. That blade is no larger than a knife, yet he nearly hit me from three feet away, observed Nocturn as he swiped another swing from Adeiazo. “Obliterate!” snapped Nocturn. His blade glowed violet as he swung it. A crest of black energy flew in an arc from the blade and sliced through the wall of dust before him.
    A strange metallic sound, a glow, and then all was silent. Nocturn let out a breath of relief. “That was pretty easy,” he whispered to himself.
    “You are too rash,” remarked a sullen voice. Nocturn looked up to see a blade come towards him. With his gauntlet, he reflected it. Another blade zipped towards him. Nocturn dodged to the right. Damn, he grimaced as he felt the blade rip through his skin.
    Something grabbed his neck and flung him against the opposite wall. Nocturn fell face first to the floor. What was that? Just as Adeiazo threw me, I felt an immense amount of energy emanating from him. That amount of energy could surpass even a Behemoth, the most powerful being of the Paralleliux.
    “Do not ever believe your enemy had been eliminated unless you have pierced their heart,” a voice from above said. Nocturn could see Adeiazo’s feet coming closer to him at an alarmingly slow rate. He felt his own energy getting sapped from everywhere around him. The essence that spilled out of his cut flowed towards Adeiazo, as well. For a moment, Nocturn was unable to move. Adeiazo was only a few inches from him when he managed to get up on his feet. “Good. Now I have a clear shot towards your heart,” whispered Adeiazo as he raised his arm, pointed his index finger towards Nocturn’s chest, and willed a green beam of energy fly from his finger. Nocturn raised his right arm and deflected the beam. Or at least most of it.
    “Dammit!” growled Nocturn as he felt his skin burn from Adeiazo’s attack. He studied his arm. A hole had been blown into the gauntlet. He turned it around. The beam had run straight through his arm. Black essence spilled like smoke from an inferno through the opening in his skin. He forced it back into his blood and gripped his blade in his left hand.
    “How meddlesome,” said Adeiazo. “It seems that you have more resilience than I had expected.”
    Nocturn looked up to him, his teeth bared, grimacing with pain. “Do not allow anything to touch the skin for about six months. If you do, the healing process may never be completed,” Nocturn remembered a doctor directing him when he finally left the Paralleliun hospital.
    “But all nuisances must be eliminated to ensure a proper plan,” added Adeiazo. He flew towards Nocturn, his feet just inches from the ground, gripping an umbrella in his right hand and a silver Uzi in the other. He was attacking me with an umbrella? observed Nocturn. He raised his sword and blocked the sharp blade at the end of the umbrella as Adeiazo thrust it with lethal strength. Adeiazo quickly regained his balance and followed his thrust with a quick vertical swing. Nocturn deflected the attack with equal speed. Adeiazo quickly followed up with a horizontal swing. Nocturn, too slow to recover from his earlier block, lost his balance as the blade of the umbrella struck his blade, which was still in a horizontal position, which, as most swordsmen know, is a potentially fatal move.
    Adeiazo swung his blade horizontally again, and Nocturn parried dizzily. “Humph. You are quick,” said Adeiazo. He spun the blade twice before holding the curve of the handle like a gun’s handle and pulled on the bottom spring. The black umbrella opened. A clicking sound filled the room. Oh no, thought Nocturn as the all-too-familiar sound came to his ears. The fabric of the umbrella suddenly shot forward like needles. Nocturn raised his sword and swung at the needles, deflecting them. He swatted them away with his gauntlet, summoned short-lasting shields of dark matter, and burned them down with magic attacks. Yet, millions of black needles still flew towards him. A few slipped against his skin, and he could feel tiny amounts of essence flowing from the cuts.
    Meanwhile, the essence that was being fed to the woman who still sat by the wall, unscarred and undisturbed, was quickly leaving his body. He felt his energy depleting at a constantly quick rate. His skin had turned visibly paler and he felt his eyes sink into their sockets. He felt his heart beat increasing. Blood reached throughout his body faster and faster. His breathing had quickened. His movements had become quicker and more acute. He spun his blade like a windmill, constantly moving around the room to avoid getting stung by more needles. It’s endless… thought Nocturn as he analyzed the umbrella. The fabric where the black needles flew from regenerated. At this rate, it will never end. And with my essence flowing away from me, I’ll eventually collapse. I have to do something quick, or it’s over. For me, for that woman, and for the entire world.
    It was this notion that suddenly made Nocturn feel that the fate of every being was on his shoulders. This battle was crucial, and he knew that. If he died here, then many more will follow. He is the only one who now stood between the Usurpers and the Nocturnal Arsenal. The ultimate weapon. The fate of the world. His life. Everyone’s life. I can’t lose.
    Nocturn flicked his left wrist. A Derringer pistol slipped down to his hand. “Energia Oscura,” whispered Nocturn as he aimed the pistol towards Adeiazo’s head. A faint, violet glow filled the inside of the pistol. He pulled the trigger. A fluorescent bullet coated with violet energy flew across the room at nearly light speed. There was a sickening silence as the bullet shot clear through Adeiazo’s right eye. Essence flew out like a wave as Adeiazo fell to his knees. Blood trickled down his eyes. He dropped his umbrella, which closed automatically. His left eye was wide, flickering back and forth the room. The air rumbled violently, and the very fabric of space and time moved with the energy released by Adeiazo’s death. Nocturn could see every single molecule in the air as they frantically slowed down and sped up randomly.
    Rainbows of color splashed across the room as the molecules appeared and disappeared quickly. Tiny atomic explosions blazed across the room as atoms crashed into each other. New, undiscovered substances came into existence before vanishing. Nocturn noticed his body becoming transparent. The floor threatened to open up into liquid and swallow him again. Adeiazo finally collapsed, face down to the ground. Red blood spread on the immaculate floor. Adeiazo’s skin started to disintegrate, becoming black crisps in the air. A dark violet aura surrounded Adeiazo as his entire body disintegrated completely. And then, after a few moments, he completely vanished into nothingness.
    The atoms and molecules became stable again, becoming completely invisible to the naked eye. The ground solidified (Nocturn just realized that a split second before it did). Nocturn’s skin became solid and opaque. He let out a deep breath. “I hope I never have to see that again,” he whispered to himself. He squatted, looking down to the floor, trying to regain his breath. He hadn’t been able to when the air was solidified. He stood up straight and stretched. For some strange reason, he felt empowered. It was as if he hadn’t been fighting at all. I should be exhausted. But I’m not. I feel great, thought Nocturn as he loosened his arms. I fought while feeding my energy, used the little bit of energy I had left to defeat my enemy, survived a higher being’s death, and yet, I feel like I just woke up from a comfortable sleep. And then it hit him. He fell back against the wall. “Dieu de la Mort means ‘death god’ in French. We feed off of the essence of all deceased nature around us. It is our nature. It is how we evolve,” recited Nocturn to himself, remembering the training he had gotten in the Chronos Chamber in the Paralleliux. “I just absorbed another being’s energy. And it felt good.”
    Nocturn blinked once, twice, three times. He looked towards the woman, who sat limply on the wall. Her wound had finally healed, but she had lost too much blood to be able to awaken. “I need to get home quick,” mouthed Nocturn to himself. He picked up the woman, held her head on his left hand, her legs on the right claw, and then made for the direction of his apartment.

    Later…
    “He took the bait very easily,” muttered Ezekiel Stepletine into his cell phone. It was a white iPhone with a cross sigil etched into the back. “A bit suspicious at first, but he followed my orders. If you weren’t busy, you could’ve felt the vibrations of the Elite’s death.”
    “I did. It was quite spectacular. The very fabric of space opened up before me, threatening to allow the very demons of the Underworld to— ”
    “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Inocku. You’re very poetic. Now, what am I supposed to do next?”
    “Keep him believing that you are his ally. I will have one of us summon a lower being to exterminate. Give him the mission at four o’ clock sharp. Limit your power significantly enough so that you are unsusceptible.”
    “Alright, then. I will send my full report by six o’ clock PM,” replied Ezekiel before hanging up. He looked out over the city, standing on the balcony of the Suite. “I wonder how long this façade will last. Oh well, I’ve got nine lives. I wouldn’t mind sparing my fourth.”
    The main door slammed open. Ezekiel turned around and smiled enigmatically. “It seems the mission went well. I sensed the Elite’s death from here. And you have the woman. What happened to her?”
    “She was wounded. Mortally,” added Nocturn hastily, but gently, placing the small woman on the couch. He went into the kitchen and ripped through a cabinet under the sink.
    “What are you looking for?” questioned Ezekiel over the racket of jingling pots and pans. “The knives are next to the sink if that’s what you need,” he joked.
    Nocturn did not reply, instead checking the next cabinet. His face was calm, almost melancholic, but the way he moved showed that he was trying to hide anxiety under his nearly flawless façade. So he isn’t the only one who can fake, mused Ezekiel. We’ll just see who can keep their mask on for the longest time, eh? He made an enigmatic grin to Nocturn and made for the kitchen. He opened the closest cabinet and took out a vial of clear liquid. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
    Nocturn looked over his shoulder, nodded, and snatched the bottle. He went to the couch and opened the vial. Leaning over the woman, he pried open her mouth and let a drop of the liquid enter her body. Her skin regained color and her breathing quickly became less sparse. “Wow, strong stuff,” whistled Ezekiel.
    “Yeah,” replied Nocturn as he gulped down a drop of the liquid himself. He grimaced as he looked down to his right arm, which was covered half way with a silver gauntlet.
    I didn’t notice that before. “What happened?”
    “Stupid thing was supposed to be indestructible. But something made it through. It cut straight through my arm. I think I lost some blood, too,” replied Nocturn as he put the vial back in the cabinet. “What are you still doing here, by the way?”
    “I’m your own personal messenger. A servant of sorts. Well, that doesn’t mean that I will feed you or fold your underpants,” added Ezekiel. “I send and bring messages, assist in a few missions, and maybe give some advice.”
    Nocturn sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. CNN came on with “American Morning” airing. “—and today we are going to start with an internet phenomenon that has been striking fear into people’s minds in strange ways,” said the reporter named John Roberts.
    The screen switched to show a choppy picture of a green haired man wearing a black jacket jumping up the side of a building. He stopped for a second and turned around, making a gesture as if he were taunting someone, and then continuing up the building. Then, just as he reached the top of the building, a strong, dark gust of wind came down from him. Magic… thought Ezekiel as he watched the man enter a helicopter that had been waiting for him at the top of the building. The screen turned black.
    “Authorities have linked the ‘Eagle-Man’—that’s what they call him—to the gruesome murders in the same building that he was hopping on. Such claims had brought up names such as ‘The Business Ripper’ or ‘The Green Prince’,” reported John Roberts.
    “Crazy is what I call him, John,” said the other reporter named Kiran Chetry. “And get this: witnesses say that actually saw the stereotypical Jack the Ripper—top hat and trench coat. One eyewitness said, ‘I’m not a prostitute or anything, but I don’t want to get near that freak in any way.’ There have also been reports of a massive blackout in the subway under Times Square, where the green haired man met a reportedly, ‘Tall, blue-haired ghost with a sword and a gun.’ They keep on saying that the two fought using their swords, sending each other back with invisible blows. When the fighting grew intense, the blackout ensued.”
    “The public is extremely terrified. Times Square had lost a record ninety percent of its pedestrianism in the weekend, afraid that this was all a plot from the URM to attack the States directly. President Jane Silinkiar had addressed this directly in her State of the Union Speech last night, if you haven’t watched the speech yesterday,” added John Roberts.
    “This just in,” interrupted Kiran before he said anymore. “Tourists to Washington D.C. have reportedly, ‘run around in circles in fear when they saw the dead body of a young man hanging from a flag pole near the Washington Monument. The image is too shocking to be shown on TV. As soon as the authorities arrived, though, the body vanished. Everyone in the scene reportedly felt, ‘a strong tremor and coloring of the air before them’. President Jane Silinkiar will hold a congregational meeting this weekend to address the sudden increase in vicious and, if I may, fictional phenomenon.”
    Nocturn turned off the TV and sunk into the couch, looking up to the ceiling. “Great. We’re getting discovered…again.”

    Later…
    Aeulus exhaled heavily, and then threw another punch at the punching bag. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His green hair was stuck to his forehead from sweating in the eighty degree gym room. He took a drink of cold water from a water bottle and punched the bag again. It swung back. He gave it a high kick that sent it swinging over the rail, and then punched it with a hard left swing as it came back down. Air emanated from the punch and sent the bag, with the entire set, hit the wall with a loud smash. Aeulus gulped down the entire bottle of water with a satisfied smile. “Good to know that I’m still in shape,” he said to himself as he threw the bottle in the fifty gallon, transparent bin near the entrance. He walked on a mat at the far corner of the room (just a few walks back and forth the room was good exercise). “Activate holographic fighting exercise.”
    The room was completely silent for a few moments before five pillars of blue light appeared from the ceiling. The pillars expanded until they took humanoid shapes in fighting position. “Level ten,” commanded Aeulus. The holographic fighters immediately lunged towards him, electrical currents running through their bodies to give the sense of actual touch. One of the holograms made a high roundhouse kick to Aeulus. Aeulus ducked quickly and grabbed the leg. Electrical jolts were sent up his nerves to make it seem as if he had touched an actual leg. He threw the hologram down on the ground and pinned it with his foot. Another holographic man lunged towards him, threatening to tackle him. Aeulus raised his arm and knocked the hologram with the back of his hand.
    “Too easy,” muttered Aeulus as he stepped down on the hologram that was pinned under his foot. Electric jolts were sent up his leg as it ripped through the hologram’s body. He pulled back his leg as he elbowed a hologram behind him on its virtual neck. Both holograms scattered into pixels, meaning death. Unconsciousness was signaled by red pigmentation. The hologram that had attempted to tackle him earlier ran for a straightforward punch. It swung its arm. Aeulus ducked below and made quick jabs on the hologram’s pressure points, which would normally be indicated by a dark spot on a lower level in the exercise. The hologram’s ‘limbs’ went limp as it fell to the ground. Aeulus picked it up by the neck. Electric jolts’ intensity corresponded with the strength of the trainee. Aeulus could carry at most a car with both of his arms. The hologram was set to weigh about three hundred pounds.
    The fourth and fifth hologram circled Aeulus, fists raised. If they had memories… Aeulus threw the hologram he was carrying at the fifth, and then lunged at the fourth. He made quick work of it, thrusting his fist through its head as if his arm were a sword. The hologram dissipated into pixels. Something punched Aeulus on the side of his head, sending him to the floor. It was the second hologram, hopping back and forth in a boxing-like posture. Aeulus got up to his feet, grabbed the hologram’s shoulder, and then sent a hard blow to its chin. He then went on to give six consecutive blows to the hologram’s head, almost like how Max Baer, a personal friend he had once known, boxed. The hologram moved limply, almost realistically, swaying back and forth as if it were dazed. Aeulus gave a final punch to the side of its head. The hologram turned from blue to red. It dissipated into millions of pixel. They seemed like snow flying upwards, dividing the final hologram from Aeulus like in a dramatic movie.
    The fifth hologram ran towards Aeulus, arms raised. Aeulus prepared to duck just as the hologram bluffed, instead bucking Aeulus over its back like a bull in a rodeo. Aeulus landed face first on the mat, turned around, and then hopped back on his feet. “Okay, you got me there,” he breathed, raising his thin fists.
    The hologram ran towards him again. Aeulus waited until it was within arm’s length, and jumped into the air. A holographic hand grabbed his ankle and sent him to the floor. The hologram followed up with a body slam, its elbow jabbing him on the chest. Jolts of electricity shot through his body. Aeulus got up and took a deep breath. If I were human, I would be writhing on the floor, unable to breath. He grabbed the hologram’s shoulder and finished it just like the third hologram.
    Pixels flew into the air as Aeulus walked off of the matt. He stretched his arms. He was thin and lanky with fair skin. His muscles were hard, with no sign of fat anywhere. Even as he walked, his sweatpants had to be constantly pulled up because he was too lean for them. Just like many half-wolves just out of their prime, he was a picture of health.
    Aeulus threw a black shirt over his head and pulled it down over his torso. He took a drink from another water bottle and made for the exit. It opened just before he managed to reach it, showing that Aile Aphrodites stood behind it. Her pink hair was held back in a ponytail and she wore a simple black and pink tunic over a black mini-skirt. Her blue eyes flickered up and down as she remarked: “Seems like someone woke up well today.”
    “My magic was strong enough. I needed to make sure that I could still fight without it,” replied Aeulus simply, making for the door.
    Aile closed the door behind her and stood there as if she were blocking the path. “And…? Could you still fight without your magic?”
    “Yes,” answered Aeulus. He blew a bang of hair from his eye and motioned for Aile to move from the door.
    But she did not budge, instead looking straight into Aeulus’s eyes. “Why did you do it?”
    “To make sure that I was in top condition.”
    “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant why did you do that right before the explosion? I mean, I get that it saved us and all, but…”
    “Wiatr magic is powered by emotions. I did what I did to enhance the shield,” explained Aeulus, taking another drink from his water bottle.
    “Then who’s emotions powered it more?” inquired Aile crossly.
    Aeulus choked on a gulp of water. He blinked away tears and eyed Aile. “What do you mean?”
    “I’m…just curious. I mean, one of us must have felt more emotion from it, right?” questioned Aile, getting closer to Aeulus.
    “Well it wasn’t me,” said Aeulus coolly as he opened the door.
    “How are you so sure?” called Aile as she followed him down the hallway. It was illuminated by elegant lamps that hung over tables which were decorated with violets. The floor was made of ceramic that were polished smoothly enough to skate on with cleats. Aeulus summoned a little bit of wind under his feet to keep from slipping. Aile struggled to stay on her feet.
    “Because I know who I am and what I feel. I’ve lived for centuries, Aile. Don’t you think I know myself by now?”
    “It’s hard to tell who you are when you’re constantly making disguises, you know,” retorted Aile.
    Aeulus turned around. “What are you trying to say?”
    “Don’t play dumb with me!” snapped Aile, nearly slipping on the smooth floor. “You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
    “Apparently you know something I don’t?” said Aeulus calmly. “I guess it is you who lives in this body? I don’t know what goes on in here,” he indicated his head, “but you do?”
    “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…you’re never yourself!”
    “You don’t know who I am, Aile. We only first met when the Usurpers were first created. You do not know me that well. Hell, why are you still even here? Why did you follow me around like this?”
    “I…I just thought that…”
    “Thought what? That you can just waltz in and help me find the Arsenal, and then we’d be friends happily ever after?” snapped Aeulus. “That is not how it works, Aile. Consider my action back in the explosion a payment. We’re done here. Get your stuff and leave.” He turned around and started to leave.
    Aile grabbed his arm, turned him around, and slapped him across the face. “You ungrateful little scum! I keep you one step away from the Master, and this is how you repay me? By yelling at me and kicking me out?” Aile blinked hard and looked at him with hard eyes. They weren’t tearful. They were filled with a stark hatred that Aeulus had never seen before. “Fine. I’ll leave. I don’t even need to go back to the apartment. You can just burn them. I have plenty of money and clothes back in the Paralleliux. Farewell.” With a vulgar swear in ancient Greek, Aile let go of his arm and went down the hall.
    Aeulus stood in the same spot for several moments, staring down at the floor. He looked up to see that the hall was completely empty. We’re even. She gave me the location of the Nocturnal Arsenal, I saved her life. We’re done. This is where we part ways again. And why would I care? It’s not like we have any true history. She just met me fifty years ago. That’s only a few minutes in my long life. And with that notion, Aeulus went up to his apartment.
    His cell phone rang on the coffee table at the center of his living room when he arrived. He picked it up and, without looking at the Caller ID—not that this person would actually have one—greeted, “What is it, Jack?”
    “You’re on the news,” replied Jack the Ripper’s scratchy voice at the other side of the line. He sounded like he was struggling with something. He grunted as the sound of glass shattering exploded in the background.
    “What?” inquired Aeulus, gripping his phone with increasing strength.
    “They filmed you running up the building. You didn’t even mind-nuke the idiots. For Pete’s sake!” replied Jack. He grunted again. A crack sounded.
    “Where are you? What’s going on over there?”
    “I’m at a bar in Bronx, brawling. You know how abandoned this place is. They mentioned the ‘stereotypical Jack the Ripper’ and some drunkard pointed me out. Now I’m fighting my way out of—hold on!” Air whooshed through the phone line. Curses and grunting filled the line. “That was a close one. Four men just tried to corner me,” said Jack after a few silent moments. “Anyway, you and some guy who looks forebodingly familiar showed up. And, guess what?”
    “More bad news?”
    “Yep. The skirmish at Washington D.C. finished. Reaper Blixt’s dead, Aftok’s left arm completely cut through from the bottom of the elbow to the top of the wrist. Adeiazo is missing for some unknown reason.”
    “He’s got a knife!” yelled a low voice from the background.
    “Shut up, will you?” snapped Jack.
    “That’s the bad news?”
    Jack grunted quietly. The background grew silent. “I’m not finished yet. A group of tourists saw Blixt’s body hanging from a flagpole. Apparently, Aftok got in over his head. It made national news! His body vanished right before his eyes, and I bet my knives that every sane human in the world would know that isn’t natural. They’re on to us. It’s only a matter of time before the Third Great Awakening begins. Or worse…”
    Aeulus bit his lower lip, refraining himself from throwing his phone at the wall. “Accidenti!” snapped Aeulus under his breath. “How fast can you get here?”
    “Already on my way. Give me about three hours.”
    “Good.” He hung up and sat down on the couch, exhaling heavily. “I knew something like this would happen. I knew it was only a matter of time before we were discovered.” He rubbed his forehead. “This is going to be one complex situation, that’s for sure.”
    He got up and looked out the large windows of the apartment. Dark clouds rose from the horizon. The area under them was covered in white. He switched his vision. The city was completely covered in snow. A small green poked through his anxiety. Snow always meant good fortune. Snow is analogous to the cold. And the cold is like steroids for half-wolves.