Diablo stood still. Inside, within the thick shell of ancient metal and still functioning components, in the throne of the giant golem's soul, Ravendor's status in the overtaking of Diablo's body had gone one step further from simple manipulation, to a condition of semi-assimilation. He had been released from the restraints in the control chair and was now suspended above it, tied into place by a plethora of wires and cables. His arms were spread out, electrical wiring rooted into his wrists and wrapping around his arms, the underside of his armor-plated forearm weak enough to be pierced through.
They embedded into the main points of his body, his neck, his chest, and fed off the intense electrical energy stored within, powering the golem's weakened life support system. There was a small scattering of black feathers beneath Ravendor and over the control chair, indicating that the metamorphosis was in it's advanced stage of completion. Around him, his voice was synthesized and merged with the internal computer's voice, reading out a constant string of processed data. It had a lifeless tone, and came from the speakers around the small control chamber instead of from his mouth itself.
Hold position #1A. Hold position #1AB. Maintain current stature. External shell barrier at 78. Adequate. Psychogram serviceable to the eight layer. Power output optimal. All systems are fully functional.
Diablo's scanner froze in it's place as it picked up an unusual fluctuation, or better put, a general lack of one. It had registered each aura present within the destroyed ruin through Ravendor's previous memory and perception, registering the info into it's databank. Now, it was experiencing a serious error. One of the auras in it's memory had suddenly gone missing. It had only been there a second ago, and like a lantern going out, it had disappeared. In reaction to this problem, Diablo cut down it's nervous restraints to the energy source via an order sent from the highest area of command. The grip on the machine loosened, and Ravendor slowly opened his eyes.
He was not surprised to find out what position he was in. This restrained his movements almost totally, because a complete disconnection from the system would kill whatever power was left inside the golem. Ravendor didn't mind, he had no wish to move right now anyway. However, a personal view in his original body might help him figure out the error much faster. He could not talk. His body had control over both sight and hearing, but the rest of him was too wired into Diablo to keep the rest of his human senses working. Instead, he made use of the vocal synthesizer, and substituted that for his new method of speech. "…I can… I can sense that somebody has gone missing…" He said weakly, his voice growing stronger as he used it more. "It feels wrong. Bring up visual aid now, I must see the outside of this confinement…"
The screen built into the wall in from of him flickered into life, showing a clear image of what the rest of the ruin looked like from Diablo's lofty perspective. Ravendor had stopped fighting for a reason, the attacks that the other drifters were dishing out at him were having absolutely no effect whatsoever. This was no challenge to him. Besides, Diablo was only acting as a shield for him temporarily. He would personally destroy them all when he had the chance. But that was not now. He had to wait. He saw Jet, Virginia and the Baskar priest still attempting to crack open the golem with little success, arcana and feeble bullets assaulting the armor and bouncing off harmlessly. They were still there.
And then he saw Catherine.
She and Kaitlyn were huddled in a corner of the dark ruin, protected by a solid formation of rock, but still visible to him, because of Diablo's great height. Clive was with them, but he appeared to be asleep. The woman was hugging him and crying, while Ravendor silently ordered the computer to isolate Clive's energy signature and check to see if it was still present. Clive had a heartbeat, and a pulse, but his aura was not there. It was as if Catherine was clinging onto a still-alive corpse. Ravendor was confused, but began to feel the exhaustion brought about from staying in his original body so late in his metamorphosis. He had to vacate, or risk death.
But something clung to his mind as he closed his eyes, and left his fleshy weakened shell. Catherine had been crying. In all his many years of life, of knowing her, Ravendor had never seen Catherine cry, not once. She had never cried for him, at least. And yet, she would do so for Clive. If it were capable, Ravendor would have laughed. It looked like he really was alone. That was okay though, because if so, he would bear no remorse when he'd destroy them all.
He was, after all, a killing machine.
xxx
Clive got the sensation that as he stared into the frosty metal of the ancient Dark Guardian Blade, he was looking into a window of the past. It was creeping back into his mind, taking tiny little steps at a time, and as this happened, it felt like he was losing whatever little bits of identity he had left. It was hard to believe that he was Clive Winslett anymore. But of course, that was not his real name. It was hard to determine precisely what he was supposed to believe anymore. No, he had to take this one step at a time, he could worry about himself later. Right now, he had to get back into the real world. Clive let the flat of his sword rest carefully in his other hand, looking deeply into the carved design of the fallen tower upon the blade. He knew it's significance now, it was symbolic with his fall, and now he would see to his next rebirth. This sword truly did belong to him, didn't it?
At a very slow pace, Clive bent his elbows and brought the cool metal to rest up against his cheek, seeking out the faint life-force within it. Luceid was a part of this sword, a crystallisation of a Guardian's soul. That made the blade almost like a medium in itself, and as Clive closed his eyes, he felt Luceid react to his presence. It made Clive smile, she recognised him. The blade almost grew warm to the touch, and it practically glowed in the darkness. "Luceid…" The demon whispered. "It has been so long… I remember now. I can finally see…" He sunk to his knees, ignoring all that was around him. The only thing he focussed on was the sword. Laying it across his knees, it shined like a jewel in the dark. "I… I do not know what to say. What am I supposed to say?"
Boomerang was waiting for him with infinite patience, still in a ready position to fight. Clive looked up at his former self, as if asking for answers silently. The knight had already told him everything, but Clive wanted to know that little bit more. The elder metal demon shook his head. "Say nothing now. Save it for later. You do want out of this place, don't you? The ticket to your passage lies in the spilling of my blood." He smiled wickedly, letting go of the sword with one hand and extending it towards where the sky should have been, if their world had not been simply composed of a dream. "Let us go back to the beginning of our despair!" He cried, crimson eyes blazing.
The world changed. Current reality shifted around them into a semblance of blurred shapes, without colour, without solid form. Eventually, they took on both qualities and grew like spindling plants into a new scene, the ceiling expanding into a clear blue sky, with a bright golden sun. Warm, and inviting. The wispy darkness at their feet was blown away by an invisible wind and aged cobblestones appeared underneath it, though they had not been there a second ago. Other additions appeared soon after, a distant crying of gulls not to far away, and the air became fresh and cool, bearing a biting scent of sea salt. Clive stood up, and looked around, baffled. Behind him, rose an apparition that neither he, nor his previous incarnation could ever forget. Ka Dingel, the tower of broken souls. It looked just as he remembered it, right down to the last detail. Clive stepped away, holding his sword up at the ready. Boomerang gradually lowered his hand, the altering magic now cast. "Wh-wha-" The drifter stammered, looking around with confusion.
"It is only suitable," His opponent explained while taking a step forward, standing upon the bridge which led into the entrance of the tower, "That we duel here. This is the place where our soul will be tested, once and for all." He held his blade up to the sky, and swept it in a slow circular arc, warming up for the fight. Clive watched him with uncertainty, still filled with a thousand questions that he wanted proper answers too. He just guessed that it was part of his scientist's nature to unceasingly ask questions, but it was also part of his demon's soul, which also allowed him to stand tall and calm, though he did not feel it on the inside. Did Boomerang know how he truly felt? It seemed possible, from what he had been told, but at the very least, it should have been a two way street. Clive should have been able to pick up Boomerang's thoughts. Why couldn't he sense what the other demon was sensing?
And then he understood. What had he been feeling all this time? Of course he could sense Boomerang's thoughts, his feelings, and his emotions. They were the source of his dream, and they had powered him onwards when all he had wanted to do was lay down and die. They were so interconnected, that to Clive right now, on a subconscious level, it was hard to discern exactly when the semblance of himself ended, and Boomerang's mind began. In truth, it was only the passage of time and it's influence that made them separate people. It was such a fragile barrier, one that could be torn at any given moment. "Boomerang, if you win this fight, what will happen to the both of us?" He asked, desiring an answer.
The elder metal demon looked back at Clive evenly, with an almost disinterested air. "That is simple." He said. "If I destroy you, then the singular entity that we are both composed of will shed the memories of the defeated one. If I win, we will lose the memories of our previous thirty years, and I will return to your current body as precisely who I am, Boomerang Flash. You will never have been created. Clive, you will just be a shadow of a forgotten dream."
To be forgotten, an ultimate death… He thought glumly, his hands tightening around the grip of his weapon. …Because, if nobody knows that I exist, or if I forget that I exist, if what who I am were to become somebody else… That is as good as death for me… If he wins, I die, and so too will my family. Then, I guess, I cannot allow myself to die…
"I see." Clive sighed, stretching to release the tension from his still tired and weakened body. It wasn't as bad as it was before, but that was only because he now existed within this dream world. He didn't have a real body at all, just an image that his mind had created, shaped into what he believed he looked like. It could be said, though in controversy, that he was now the product of his own imagination and fancy. This world was made for only him. He, and Boomerang. Only they had control over it. Clive asked his second question. "Pertaining to your answer, I will invert it and ask; what will happen to me if I win?"
"I will die." Replied Boomerang dully and bluntly. "We will lose my thousands of years of memories, and you will become like who you were a week ago, ignorant of your own true nature. You will wake up and become human again. It will seem as though nothing had ever happened. You will be free to save your family without my interruption." The knight smirked amusedly. "Is this worth fighting for, Clive? The chance to make it all better? The chance to erase everything you dislike about yourself? It is tempting, is it not? I can sense that you want it, but to gain it, you will have to kill for it. Can you kill for it, Clive Winslett?"
The newly-made demon just smiled, lowering his weapon. A seagull landed nearby on the bridge and fished around the cobblestones for a candidate for lunch, found none, and made his disappointment known verbally, cawing a little and flying away. This world looked so real, had Clive not known it's real nature, he would have easily mistaken it for the real one in a heartbeat. He came to a conclusion. If Boomerang could manipulate the area around them so easily, then so could he. He wanted this to change, this was not the place where he wished to fight.
Clive closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. In reaction, the blue sky changed colour, shifting, distorting into a mockery of it's previous form, like fresh paint oozing and mixing into ghoulish shapes, making the sky look like it was melting. It became a dark bluish-purple, and the cobblestones stretched out in some places, and contracted in other spots, while above them, the great tower of Ka Dingel collapsed under a ghostly force, breaking without an explosion, the rocks and pieces of debris falling around them like a rain that could not be felt. The sun faded away, under a non-existent horizon, and the stars erupted into a magical haze across the sky, heavenly and beautiful. The green-haired drifter opened his eyes, and then it was finished. The scene looked like an abstract, yet magnificent piece of artwork, yet still, Ka Dingel was the main focus. Clive looked pleased. "This is better," He announced, "Now we are able to fight under the cover of darkness."
"Indeed, indeed." Boomerang agreed, nodding. "But let me just say how amused I am that you would model this place upon our home world. This is what Terra looked like, so long ago." Clive was looking at him as if to say that this was not groundbreaking news, and at exactly the same time, the two demons shifted into attack positions, raising their weapons. The only thing left was for somebody to take the initiative and attack first. Tension was strung through the air, taut with intense electricity. Boomerang grinned, flashing his fangs. Clive mimicked him, trying to ignore the weight of the sword upon his arms. It was so very heavy, but Boomerang didn't seem to be having any trouble with it at all. He felt the weight of the metal, and shifted it around slightly with his hand. It was heavy, because it knew that it's true master was nearby. He knew that things didn't really appear to be in his favor.
But still, he had to win. As long as he got out of this one fight, everything else would seem like a bad dream. Clive could only hope that he remembered enough about swordplay to fight, and pray that his current self was more powerful than his present self. This fight would be for all the marbles. The prize was his old life back, the penalty was ignorance of himself. Did he really even need to understand? Clive had to trust his body to work for him, to make the decisions while his mind was off in contemplation. That was what it was made for, anyway. And Boomerang, he could sense Clive's thoughts, and so indeed could he. It was an even match. Two halves of his mind were about to duel, and one side would die…
If the present were to win, then the past would die. If the past won, he would have no present, no future.
Clive roared out a battle cry that didn't seem to be as powerful as he had hoped, and charged into the battle, swinging the heavy sword as precisely as he could. Boomerang twisted his weapon and used it as a shield, allowing Clive to strike it as hard as he could. The two wickedly forged blades grated into a spattering of sparks as their lengths clashed against each other, the strengths of their owners struggling to keep the weapon lock in their favour.
The domineering battle for Clive's mind had begun, and no matter what, despite who won, they would lose everything.