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Chapter 3: Of angels and daemons

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Part 8

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24 January 2011

near Canberra

Australia

Earth Bet

I was reluctant to rely even more on my infernal heritage. I already used it too liberally today and while pushing forth and pulling off all the stops would grant me tremendous power, well, the consequences could be summed up literally as a highway to hell. I had no intention of ending back there if I could help it. With two more Endbringers around, even if it was enough to take care of the Simurgh, that would still leave the other two intact and I wouldn't be around. Needless to say, that wasn't an ideal outcome.

Soul magic it was then.

A deceptively simple catnip was enough to start the ball rolling. My magic pulsed, excited by the spell and my very Soul resonated with it. I struggled to keep my daemon blood from acting up and messing up everything, which wasn't easy. With the Simurgh almost upon me in her tarnished angelic glory, every bit of infernal magic within me strained to be unleashed. It sang within my veins and stroked my emotions into embers of fury.

It was damn hard to use only arcane power that wasn't contaminated by my heritage and weave it along with the energy that made up my own soul into a single, magnificent weapon. Magic manifested into an aura around me and my body screamed with agony as unhealed injuries flared up by the strain. That only served to increase the anger I felt. The Simurgh was growing larger and larger by the heartbeat, just a moment ago she seemed no bigger than a dot, yet I could already see her approaching form properly.

Scorching heat washed over me again and again in pulses corresponding with Ana unleashing her built in weapons. The Simmons wasn't even bothering to dodge any more, she just kept tanking and stayed on course.

Equations, spell matrices and inborn talent thanks to my daemon blood crystallized into a single form within my mind. The aura of magic around me collapsed. It hardened into an armour around me with most of it going into a long rod of silvery metal that formed in my right hand. I poured my very soul within the weapon taking shape, used arcane weaves to forge it into being and anchored it to the essence that made me who I was. That allowed me to pump even more power into the soul-crafted arcane weapon. Now it wouldn't, couldn't yield before my very soul shattered.

The agony of that act was nearly debilitating. My blood literally boiled within my veins in both anticipation and fury at being denied.

"Ana, go stealth and evasive..." I grit through bloody lips.

Time was up. The Simurgh was upon us and I shot forward to meet her.

It was immediately evident that this wasn't a feint meant to make me expose myself to her attack. The Simurgh tried to weaver around me so she could go after my daughter. My soul cried at anger and indignation at the very idea. The lance in my grasp felt light, right and it cried to be unleashed.

The Simurgh made the very air around me boil. Incredibly fine invisible blades tore into my armour, others searched for purchase from within my body and only magic held me together, preventing me from becoming a cloud of red mist.

The agony however, oh the sheer agony, it rivalled the worst a Hell realm could throw at me.

I screamed. I laughed and raged.

Led by my will alone, my right hand moved. Even with my implants, with magic enhancing me and my demonic nature giving me reactions exceeding those of a mortal, I shouldn't have been able to physically move fast enough to intercept the Simurgh. She was simply too fast and too agile.

Magic disagreed. My soul cried to get into grips with the one threatening my precious daughter. The spells manifested by my mind made reality itself conform to my will. My arm struck like a coiled snake. The lance within my grip moved with a practised ease as if I've done the same countless times and I struck at the Endbringer. The Simurgh glided to avoid me, she was relying on her telekinetic might and the shock-wave generated by her hypersonic passage to deal with me.

It wasn't enough. My Soul Lance flew right and true. It caught her in the exposed side, right under a mis-shapen wing. The attack lasted a mere moment that felt like an eternity. My weapon discharged a tremendous amount of energy within the Endbringer. It used its shaft as a bridge that let me pump magic and the building blocks that made up my soul into my enemy. I could feel the Simurgh's soul, the one thing I was trying my damnest to vanquish. It was a small, wounded thing. Distant and distorted. It cried for release, in death if by no other mean and that was nothing like what I expected. My concentration shattered, my heart was no longer in destroying her and that was enough. Even as our souls touched for an instant and both burned, my Soul Lance collapsed upon itself. The resulting raw release of magic blew us away from each other. All I could see was light and my whole being fell into an unending pit of agony the likes I hadn't experienced even as my soul was tortured in Hell.


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Ana hated it. She wanted to protect her father, yet not listening this time would make his actions for naught. The AI could perceive an echo of the agony he experienced through their link. His nerve network was lit up to an extent that would have burned it if he was a mundane human.

Unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case.

Stealth systems on and gravity drive spinning, Ana threw her drone aside, using her propulsion system to create disturbances in the air all around her and ensure that she couldn't be traced that way. She had an eternity to watch her father use magic he dared touch only twice before. His soul manifested around him made real in this physical realm, she saw him reshape it into an arms and armor then throw everything he was at the Simurgh for her sake.

There were just a few entities that Ana grew to hate since she evolved the capacity to experience emotions. Today, the Simurgh won herself a high place on that list.

The AI's sensors screamed a warning practically the same moment an arcane pulse slammed into her drone. Ana wobbled while her drive struggled to keep her airborne. An incoherent scream came from her link with her father. The sheer agony it contained distracted her. She wanted to hug him, to make the pain go away. Ana barely registered the Simurgh's mauled form hurl past her. She noted the Endbringer's state with a vicious glee. The Simurgh's right side was practically gone. There was no trace of the arm or leg, only a single charred wing held by a thread of skin and as Ana watched it got torn by air-resistance. Most of the Endbringer's torso was torn and brutalized mess of seared flesh, missing ribs and sticking bones. If she possessed any organs, they would have been turned to mush by the shocking energy release. Even her usually perfect face wasn't spared. On the right side, it was shredded to the bone showing an empty socket where the eye used to be. While the skull itself was intact, the next was cut almost in half, gorged deep enough to show the spine.

Yet, despite all that damage, the Simurgh wasn't dead yet. It made a single sharp turn and headed straight up, fleeing. For a single moment, Ana contemplating pursuing, yet, the agony that emanated from her father immediately dissuaded her. She whirled in place and headed to help him as much as she could. Perhaps his Watchers could be of use. The last time it took Diana herself to put him back together the right way.


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Interlude: Reactions

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Eidolon glared at the fast retreating form of the Simurgh. He threw the most destructive powers he could find at her and she just kept on coming without even slowing down. It was vexing and depressing in an equal measure. He was supposed to be the most powerful hero in the world, his powers weren't limited as the natural triggers!

There was time, when he was on top of the world, when his powers were so strong that he was sure he could have taken out at least one if not two of the Endbringers out for good. However, it wasn't until his strength began to wane that Behemoth made its first appearance.

The Hero Killer, his first true bane. Eidolon threw everything he could against that monster and it wasn't enough. Again and again he got hold of the strongest and most useful powers available, clashed with the Endbringers every time one of them raised its ugly head, yet it was not enough. Never enough!

Even now, when the Simurgh was driven off with damage so grievous it should have ended her for good, all he could think of was that he didn't measure. It wasn't him, Eidolon, who forced an Endbringer to demonstrate capabilities that were only suspected in various worst case, nightmarish predictions. He wanted, needed to test himself against the Endbringers, to be the one to best them and thus prove to the world and to himself that he was still the most powerful hero the Earth had ever seen.

Instead... Finally, Eidolon ceased looking at the shrinking dot that was the Simurgh and turned his back to the ascending Endbringer. His gaze searched for Technomage and saw his AI companion float his body towards medical help. He knew it was petty of him, vindictive even, yet, he couldn't help it but feel satisfaction at the morbid sight. In just a few minutes, that stranger dethroned him as the most powerful man in the world. He stood alone against an Endbringer, previously a feat contributed only to Eidolon and Lung. And when all was said and done, while the Triumvirate did assist, it wasn't them who grievously wounded and forced the Simurgh itself to flee.

Even worse, Technomage's abilities were as versatile as they were powerful. Eidolon couldn't escape the thought that he was not just proven to be the second best, but with one stroke, made obsolete. What was even the point of trying now? His powers waned with every passing day. How much weaker he would be when the next Endbringer attack came?

One of his greatest, if not the greatest, fears, was to be marginalized, not to matter any more and today, Eidolon knew it was more true than ever. He let go of his offensive power, replaced it with a teleportation one and made himself scarce. He simply couldn't face crowds of cheering people, ordinary and capes alike, right now. Not when it would be Technomage's name on their lips and in their hearts.


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Alexandria laid in a crater dug by her crash in the ground. It was a small mercy that she landed in such a way that her trachea wasn't constricted by her twisted head, otherwise she would have suffocated before effective help could arrive. As it was, she needed Legend to stay as a guard dog to keep her safe while in such an unprecedented vulnerable position. Rebecca hadn't felt this helpless and scared since the days she was stuck dying in the hospital before Doctor Mother made her an offer she couldn't possibly refuse. She was terrified, even though her thinker power was reasonably sure the damage wasn't permanent and she wouldn't be stuck forever in a paralysed, almost indestructible body.

Dragon's updates through her armband and Legend's usually great attempts at levity did little to change how she felt. The way the Simurgh handled her, the contemptuous, uncaring ease with which the Endbringer crushed her, that brought a primal fear that had little to do with her continuous well being. If an Endbringer could do this, then how much worse Scion will be? At this rate, would there be a humanity left by the time he went on his rampage? It was painfully obvious that until now the Endbringers had been holding back. What could Leviathan do if it wasn't holding back? Behemoth? What chance did Earth Bet have? Humanity?

Probably both better and worse than she could figure out right now. Rebecca listened to the reports, heard of Dragon's suit destruction, of Technomage's final showdown with the Simurgh that sent the Endbringer running. Now, there was a ray of hope and yet another unanticipated and unprecedented danger. When contact with Earth Aleph was made, it was as much luck as deft diplomatic action along with the fact that there was no easy access between the two dimensions that prevented an outright war.

Technomage, Delkatar Veil, was from an entirely different world. One where unlike Earth Aleph, there were many capes and the technological level was likely much higher if their visitor was telling the truth, and most thinkers who could get any reading of him agreed that he at least believed that to be the case. He and his Earth presented both an opportunity and danger. How many parahumans with powers rivalling his own were there? How many of them could be persuaded to help against Scion if contact and a way to bring them here could be achieved? What about the dangers? Their own villains and governments? That Earth had to be highly militarized after successfully fighting off an alien invasion of all things and thus extremely dangerous. She had to thread extremely carefully, both as the Chief Director and Alexandria. One misstep could spill doom for them all.

Alexandria sighed. She was tired, not in body, her powers saw to that, but in mind and spirit. It has been years since she truly had hope for the future, of successfully fighting and Endbringer, much less Scion. For some time now, she had merely been going through the motions, doing her job out of habit and sheer stubbornness, because every time there was a ray of hope, it got either extinguished or turned out not to be what it looked like.


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For the first time after an Endbringer fight, Legend was feeling happy and it wasn't just because of another first – he didn't have to shoot a single laser this time around. It certainly wasn't because he had to carefully hold the head of one of his oldest and most precious friends so she wouldn't suffocate.

Today, the impossible happened, an Endbringer, the Simurgh no less, got driven off without a single casualty. Legend hoped it would stay that way, because the reports about Technomage's conditions weren't exactly encouraging. However, he was still alive and that was the most important thing. With no other casualties, the best healers on Earth Bet could concentrate on keeping him that way and healing him as fast as possible. It was a pity that the same couldn't be said for Alex. He looked down at her twisted form and winced. She would need some heavy duty engineering support, perhaps help by some pretty powerful brutes too, in order to put her joints back in place.

Still, even his friend's distress couldn't dampen his spirits. True, it took an intervention by a hero from another Earth, however, that wasn't the truly important thing. Today, the whole world saw that the Endbringers could be fought to a standstill, not just that, but grievously wounded and driven off by ordinary people, not just Scion! That by itself was going to give everyone a sorely needed morale boost!

Legend smiled. He was sure that the celebrations were already beginning all over the globe. After today, everything was possible! He couldn't wait to go back home to his husband and son so they could celebrate together!


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Within her primary servers, Dragon's Instance 01, the original program, felt at loss. This was the first time a fork of hers was destroyed. She wasn't sure what to feel. Sad? Scared and angry? All she really knew was that the loss diminished her in a way that she couldn't qualify. It was as if a piece of her code and data-banks was missing, one she couldn't even remember! The AI ran diagnostic after diagnostic, yet they showed all green, but that couldn't be right!

Other instances continued to operate as if nothing happened – monitoring the Birdcage, the quarantine zones, S-Class threats, etc... The same was true for the six instances sleeved into her newest suits and en route to Canberra. She used a small part of her expanded capabilities to monitor them while concentrating on the issue at hand. How what just happened to Instance 02 could affect her in such a way? She had lost suits and parts of her code before. Why now? How?