Aetheral Space

Chapter 299:11.26: To Reign Supreme (Part 2)

It rained.

Hands in the pockets of his jeans, the Supreme felt the cool water pelt at his shoulders as he walked. Refreshingly cool, even with the flames all around. He cracked his neck and let out a heavy breath as he followed his guide.

Esmeralda sure recruited strange folk, though. What was going on with this kid’s body? Some kind of ability? It looked like he’d recorded parts of himself, but for what benefit?

Interesting stuff, but not what he was here for.

"Hey, boy," the Supreme said, raising his eyebrows. "I’m losing patience. How much longer?"

The guide looked back at him with that strange half-face. "Still a while," the Cogitant said. "Skipper’s far from the battlefield. You don’t want anyone interrupting your fight, right?"

"Fair enough," the Supreme muttered. As he walked, he closed his eyes, angling his face upwards so as to feel the rain against it. Simple things like this reminded him he was alive. That he had a body that could experience sensation. That he was inside this world.

Even so… he couldn’t help but think back on the past. How long had it been, since he’d felt like this? Since he’d felt that there was a point to anything? Since he’d felt like exerting the effort to live a life?

Way too damn long.

The boy called Kadmon trained.

Yoten was a harsh teacher, and a merciless one. Kadmon soon came to understand that when he’d agreed to learn, he’d surrendered all other moments in his life. Every hour of the day, every day of the year, he would be drilled relentlessly. Thrown into life-or-death situations to see if he would survive. Thrown into deprivation chambers to tap into his Aether more fully. Thrown into the kinds of challenges a Supreme would need to overcome.

And as for Home, and the village…

When more bandits came, he killed them.

When pirates came, he killed them.

When Special Officers came, he killed them.

He painted his hands with every kind of blood, and made every kind of enemy. His body became a weapon specialized for killing. His mind became an engine for understanding and manipulating his Aether. Just by reaching out, he felt like he could take the whole world in his hand.

Soon, the time came that the planet he’d been born, his Home, was not enough. They took a ship and began prowling the galaxy,

Kadmon cracked his mouth open. "If I…"

Ellie looked over.

"If I said… if I went back to Home now, and forgot all about this… would you come with me?" The words felt alien coming out of his mouth, but they would not be constrained. If nothing else, he had to make sure he’d voiced the possibility.

Even if he already knew the answer.

"What are you talking about?" Ellie smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "You’re the man who’s going to be Supreme, right?"

Kadmon blinked, and the blink quickly became a resting of his eyes. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, I am, aren’t I?"

"Of course you are," Ellie said.

A moment passed.

"You idiot," Ellie finished.

"Yeah," Kadmon grinned. "Yeah. I am."

Even here, deep underground, Kadmon could hear the roaring of the crowds outside. The Arena was filled now with more people than Kadmon had ever seen in his life, all keen to see the shape the next century would take. The room was boiling hot, but Kadmon still couldn’t help but shiver.

When he’d imagined this, it had been like a videograph or something -- a scene he’d been observing. Now, though… the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, the feeling of the metal locker against his hand… all of this was distressingly real. Physical. This wasn’t his imagination anymore.

He’d been given this room to prepare before his fight against the Heir, but he just couldn’t bring himself to sit still. Over the last few hours, he’d paced across the room countless times, familiarising himself with it. He’d adjusted his armour as much as it could be adjusted. He’d tried sitting and meditating on his Aether core -- but with the situation, he couldn’t quite find the concentration.

Ellie and Adran should have been here, at least, but they hadn’t showed yet. No doubt Yoten had told them to stay back and let him prepare in peace. The old man did prize isolation just a little too much.

Kadmon threw himself down onto the bench and looked at the article in his hand. A handkerchief, once bright yellow, now faded by time. As a kid, he’d worn this around his neck as a cape, but now he had a real one that billowed in the wind.

This is you, he thought, looking down at the handkerchief. Don’t let that kid down.

"You’re the man who’s gonna be Supreme, right?" he muttered to himself.

"Are you?" replied the Supreme Heir.

Kadmon leapt to his feet in an instant, golden Aether flaring around him as he whirled to face the enemy. There, right before him, in the middle of the room, was the Heir. The eerily handsome young man was just standing there, wearing a dark pinstripe suit and a black cloak, smiling genially at him.

"What are you doing here?" Kadmon demanded.

A stupid question. In a situation like this, there was no question what the Heir wanted. It had happened before. Cases where attacks had taken place outside of official Dawn Contest matches to manipulate the results.

The Heir had decided to start the fight early. How had Kadmon not anticipated that? Stupid. Stupid.

With a carefree laugh, the Heir raised his hands placatingly. "Please… you don’t have to be so tense," he said -- and despite the situation, his voice radiated utter benevolence and serenity. "I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that… I wanted to meet you before the fight. Is that okay?"

Kadmon blinked, fists still raised. For a second, he thought about entertaining this, but no: "Get out of here. Now."

The Heir smiled that calm smile, cocking his head slightly. "You’re a very talented young man. I see why people like you. I just went to see Samson Rhodes, and he was impressed with you as well."

He’d seen Rhodes? The Gilded Knight was meant to still be undergoing medical treatment. "Did you kill him?" Kadmon asked, throat dry.

Despite the accusation, the Heir’s dark eyes did not so much as blink. "Kill him? I think that would have been very cruel, don’t you? There’d have been no benefit in my doing so, so I didn’t. Are you nervous?"

The Heir took a step forward, and Kadmon let his golden Aether surge even further, holy light shining through the room. The light reflected off nearly everything in the chamber -- save for the Heir himself. He alone stood distinct, like an ink stain on white paper, or a black hole in space.

"Leave," Kadmon growled.

Another step, and he would attack. Kadmon would hold himself to that.

The Heir sighed, seemingly downcast as his gaze slid down to the floor. "It seems you don’t want to talk to me," he said calmly. "That makes me sad. However, I will respect your opinion. I’m really happy that I got to meet you. Let’s both do our best in the fight, okay?"

There was no need to reply. To reply was to be distracted. Kadmon watched, completely silent, as the Supreme Heir turned and began to walk out of the room.

He was just about to relax slightly…

…when the Heir lingered in the doorway.

"Oh," he said softly. "I almost forgot." The Heir shrugged his cape, and two objects dropped to the floor with wet cracks. "I think these belong to you, Kadmon."

Kadmon blinked -- and slowly, slowly, why so slowly -- looked down at the objects .

Ba-dum.

His heart hammered.

Ba-dum.

He didn’t recognise the objects . He didn’t. They didn’t look like anything he knew. They were nothing. They weren’t even there. He didn’t know what he was looking at. There was nothing to say about it. They weren’t worth looking at. He didn’t know them. He didn’t know those faces. That wasn’t blood. He didn’t see any blood. He didn’t see that white hair. He didn’t see those glasses. It was nothing. He didn’t recognise the objects . He didn’t feel sick. He didn’t feel cold. He didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t.

Ba-dum.

He didn’t see anything.

Ba-dum.

He didn’t see Ellie and Adran’s heads lying on the floor before him.

Kadmon screamed. Long and hard, with such force that his throat felt like it was going to burst into flames. His Aether cracked and roared like a hurricane as it surged through the room, sending documents and clothing flying from the sheer force. It felt like his eyes were going to pop in their sockets. It felt like his tongue was about to fall out of his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, because he was too busy screaming.

By the time he’d fallen from his perch and landed on his knees, the scream had faded into a long dry croak. The Heir looked down at him, listening intently to it.

"It seems I’ve surprised you," the Heir said kindly. "I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all. Do you need to be alone for a bit?"

Kadmon looked up. His eyes were bloodshot rubies.

"I’LL KILL YOU!" he roared --

-- and his Aether exploded into godlight.

It was an unorthodox ending to the Dawn Contest. The final match had begun early, in the changing rooms, and from there the destruction had carved a path right to the Arena proper. Half of the building was already in flames from the crossfire.

Kadmon was surrounded by bodies as he hurled another massive Pursuer towards the Heir, foam falling from his lips. At some point, their fight had moved into the crowd itself, and the casualties had been severe. Which of them had done the killing? Kadmon couldn’t remember. All he could remember were those objects . All he could remember was his hatred.

He’d kill him. He’d kill him, he’d kill him, he’d kill him, he’d kill him, he’d kill him, he’d kill him, he’d kill him!

The Pursuer, driven by golden Aether, hurtled towards the Heir -- but, with a wave of his hand, the weapon was utterly erased from existence. Not even debris remained.

The Heir smiled softly as he stood atop a pile of bodies, the screams of the fleeing survivors ringing through the air.

"Like I said, you’re a very talented young man," he spoke down to Kadmon. "What kind of policies will you institute as Supreme? I’m interested to know."

"Shut up!" Kadmon cried, charging forward. "Excel Surge -- Surgeon General!"

He held his hand out to the side, and a massive scalpel the size of a greatsword materialised there. The original had been able to reopen wounds the target had suffered over the last few days. Under Excel Surge, every injury the target had sustained over the last year would be inflicted once again.

If he could hit an undefended spot, he could win. He could turn this fucker into mincemeat.

The Heir sighed, looking genuinely disappointed. "It seems you still don’t want to talk to me," he said. "Again, that makes me sad. If it’s your decision, though, I’ll respect it."

As Kadmon charged in, the Heir raised his hand -- and with a spark of black Aether, a swarm of dark locusts flooded out through his palm. As one, they streamed through the air towards Kadmon, hungry mandibles clicking at empty space.

Kadmon knew this attack.

They’d studied the Heir, him and… they’d studied the Heir. These locusts were one of his favourite ways of using his ability. They devoured any flesh they could come into contact with, but they only survived for a few seconds outside of the Heir’s Aether.

Golden light surging around his legs, Kadmon leapt up, a crater forming in the ground from the sheer power of his kick. As he sailed through the air towards the Heir, avoiding the locusts, he raised the Surgeon General up high, ready to bring it down on his enemy the second he came into range.

The Heir had seen that coming, of course. He threw his hand up -- and immediately, a wall of solid black material appeared in front of him as a shield.

Kadmon’s mind ran at a desperate speed. He had no idea how strong that shield was. There was no guarantee that the Surgeon General would be strong enough to break through -- but the shield only covered the front. The Heir’s back was still exposed.

He threw a hand of his own out to the side and fired off a bolt of pure Aether. People said that pure Aether was worthless as a projectile -- it did nothing in terms of damage when it hit -- but Kadmon had always found it a useful way of controlling vertical movement.

Kadmon’s body went flying off the opposite direction from the force of the blast, sending him around to the gap in the shield. Landing on the ground again, he immediately kicked off -- a geyser of concrete exploding behind him as he lunged in.

The Heir waved a hand through the air, conjuring a clicking biological sword that looked like a mixture between a centipede and a spinal cord. Clang, clang. Twice his weapon and the Surgeon General collided, sparks and dark ichor flying in every direction, but neither the Heir’s defence or Kadmon’s offence diminished in the least.

Kadmon could feel fire burning in his mind as he looked at his opponent, pushing with all his might as their blades locked. The bastard was still smiling.

"Despite the Prince’s attempts at interference," the Supreme Heir said. "I think we’ve had a fairly interesting Dawn Contest, don’t you?"

"Shut it!" Kadmon screamed -- and that second of distraction almost killed him.

All around the two of them, countless spears of graphite burst out of the ground, their tips pointed directly at Kadmon’s heart. He jumped off the ground to avoid their initial lunge, but they pursued -- snapping off at angles to chase after him as he rose into the air.

Each swing of the Surgeon General shattered one of the blades, but there was always another to take its place. They were fragile but inevitable, and they struck fast enough that Kadmon didn’t have time to switch abilities. The Heir just stood there, looking up, amidst the forest of blades. He was still smiling.

"I’ve been watching you for a while now, Kadmon," he called up to the young man fighting for his life. "And I’ve been very impressed. You’ve demonstrated to me that you have a strong spirit and will. Well done."

"Shut up!" Kadmon roared again, shattering the blades around him with a lightning-fast whip of the Surgeon General. As he began falling again, he dispelled the scalpel, pulling his arm back instead. A punch. He’d finish this with a punch. He’d take this bastard’s rotten heart in his hand and crush it.

The Heir made no move to dodge. He just stood there, hands at his side, watching calmly as Kadmon fell towards him.

"For that reason…" the Heir said.

"Die!"

So much Aether was broiling around Kadmon’s arm that it looked more like a golden beam than anything else. The instant he came into the Heir’s range, he thrust it forwards -- right towards the Heir’s chest. That soft smile spread into a wicked grin…

…and there was a resounding tearing noise as Kadmon’s fist plunged right through the Supreme Heir’s body, ripping back out of his back. As the Heir’s body flopped forward, he leaned in towards Kadmon, and whispered into his ear:

"...I shall give you a throne."

Kadmon shook. The Heir was all cold on the inside, like a snowman -- and as Kadmon pulled his fist free, and the Heir fell to the ground, the man showed no signs of dying. He just stared up at Kadmon, his usual smile painted red by blood.

The announcement of the winner, of the new Supreme, rang out through what was left of the Arena -- but Kadmon did not hear. He just stood there, listening to the ringing of his ears, hands limp at his sides. The fury that had animated him slipped away, and he fell to his knees.

All the hatred, all the passion, all the fire… suddenly went out, and Kadmon was left with nothing but that cold emptiness in his chest. The Heir could have dodged. He could have dodged easily. Kadmon… hadn’t even gotten revenge. He’d been humoured.

All of this… meant nothing.

"Lock him away," Kadmon muttered, and muttered, and muttered again -- looking down darkly at the Heir. He kept muttering it until the Supremacy representatives reached him, and it was the first thing they heard from him. They loyally acquiesced, securing the former Heir and dragging him away.

The Heir, now nothing but a prisoner, just kept smiling at Kadmon as he vanished from sight.

"Lock him away," Kadmon repeated.

It was his first act as Supreme.