Fury of the Beast 25
Author: Nick.
Disclaimer: Sorry guys, I'm broke. If I actually had a huge pile of wealth, I'd either be doing something other than writing fanfic, like investing in stock or taking a long vacation. Mind you, the idea of a personal harem has crossed my mind a few times, but alas, that will remain strictly in the realm of fantasy.
The elven assassin was known among her fellows in the Order of Teraka as Silent Death. She was famed among her peers for the most kills when her targets had not even known she was there. A total count of three hundred and forty-six. She fully intended to make this Kindred as undetected kill three hundred forty-seven.
She looked around the one-room shack carefully, with trained eyes that came with her many years in the practice of death. She noted the place had not been inhabited for a long time, perhaps even before the great migration that led her to this new and harsh world. The elf had to admit, these humans had things, advances they of the Five Races had never considered in their time. Their use of their magics had blinded them to other possibilities, of ways of doing things. The common human was capable of using technology that was as wondrous and fantastical as much of the magic the Five Races used. Less than a quarter of their own population was capable of using magic, when any human could pick up a gun and shoot the mage from behind.
She noticed with her cat-like eyes the stairway leading down. It looked like it had been added as an afterthought, but she deduced that it was the shack that was the actual afterthought. The cellar was likely an old bomb shelter, and the shack was built on top when people became less paranoid of random atomic bombs falling from the sky.
Without a single sound, she drew one blade from her hip, a short, thin blade, which had long since been honed to razor sharpness. Carefully she began stepping down the stairs, every sense devoted to finding the slightest movement in the darkness of the defunct bomb shelter. Even with her years of training, however, she sensed no movement whatsoever.
A slight advantage of being a vampire, she supposed. While mortal beings were plagued with involuntary movements, a vampire could sit perfectly still, provided they had the mental discipline to do so.
She stepped down about halfway, when she caught the barest sign of movement coming from behind and beneath her. With astonishing agility, she leapt down the rest of the stairs, rolling on the concrete floor and coming to her feet with all the grace of a cat. She caught the glimpse of a katana, striking out where her legs had been less than a second before. Had she been standing there, she'd be crippled at this moment.
She rose her blade in her right hand, drawing another with her left as the vampire came out of his cover behind the stairs. She looked at his face, carefully keeping her gaze from his eyes. It was possible he possessed the ability of Dominate, and she wasn't about to risk having her mind and will conquered with a gaze and a few words.
With a blur, Xander moved in towards the assassin. Had he been thinking of anything other than survival, he would have noticed his speed had improved by another fair amount, as his mastery of the Discipline of Celerity increased. The assassin seemed to move as if she was trapped in mud while he moved normally, his katana flashing out with what had to be lightning speed to her perceptions.
Yet even with this, her skill and training were obviously quite strong. She managed to parry his first attack, but his second she did not expect with such speed and power. The blade in her right hand went flying through the air as she barely blocked his attack. She managed to parry his next attack, but she didn't realize that cutting her up wasn't his intention as he struck.
As Xander forced her blade out of position between them, he grabbed her arm with his right hand. With his inhuman strength, he pulled on her arm and whipped her around, so her back faced him. Keeping his hand on her arm, he dropped his katana and gripped her neck from behind. Before she could even gasp with surprise, he held her immobile and sank his teeth into her neck.
As Xander drank, he could feel her heart slow, and the assassin moaned and actually try to rub up against him as he took her life, a little at a time. He kept drinking until she gave one last gasp, and she went completely limp in his arms. Xander felt her heart stop, pumping the last bit of blood he could gain from her neck.
He dropped her corpse on the floor, and absently wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand. He took deep, unneeded breaths as he felt the Beast within recede, not fully, but more than enough for him to think clearly. He felt calm now, calmer than he had been for what seemed like an eternity. He could feel her warm blood moving through his body, giving him energy and for mere moments, letting him feel alive, before the feeling began to fade and his unlife settled in once more.
Grabbing his katana, he slid it under his coat once more. He looked down at the body of the assassin, a sudden thought occurring to him.
'Alright, what the hell am I supposed to do with the body? I'm way more used to vamps and demons. They self-clean upon death!'
Grumbling to himself, he picked up the body and began walking upstairs. He had about two hours before sunrise, so he'd just put it in a cave or something for the day. The last thing he wanted was a wild animal scavenging around him while he slept.
'By the thousand eyes of Halagichack! Why is it I have to get myself into all these situations?' Alleron thought to himself as he stood behind a metal pillar in a steel mill.
It was a simple idea, at first. Get the materials he needed to reforge his greatsword and then seek his daughter in Los Angeles. Despite his powers, he had enemies and he would have felt better if he had his weapon at the ready if and when they came for him. His techniques for creating weapons were far superior than anything any mortal being could create, but they came at a price: Difficulty. He needed the sheer heat in the molten steel just to begin the process. Either that, or an active volcano, and a steel mill was easier to find.
Unfortunately he didn't realize that he was being followed, not only by the Tzimisce who currently ruled the eastern seaboard with an iron fist, but by various hunters, both called on by the Powers and other, completely mundane ones. Now it had all come to a head, and they were now fighting in the steel mill in a three-way mini-war. The hunters thought Alleron was allied with the vampires. Not an accurate assessment, but an understandable one. The vampires thought he was trying to bring down their organizations. If Alleron had time, he would, but he had other concerns at the moment.
It didn't really matter now though. He was surrounded at this point and any attempt at fleeing, while it was extremely unlikely to injure him, would definitely get a lot of innocent people killed. The last thing he wanted was for this little three-way fight to spread to the streets of New York City proper.
Bursting out from behind his cover and grabbing one of the Tzimisce's war creations, a War Ghoul, he picked up the creature that was three times larger than him, and threw it off the platform they were standing on, right into the molten steel. It screamed inhumanly as it fell, but it didn't suffer long as the molten steel consumed its flesh.
Alleron moved in a blur from his position, shedding his illusion of humanity as he felt the impact of a bullet slam into his back. It failed to pierce his armor, but it did throw him off balance for a moment, forcing him to roll onto the floor and regain his footing, crouched on the metal grate, high above the ground floor. He caught a glimpse of a human sniper above him, in an optimal position to take out his enemies without exposing himself.
He also caught a glimpse of three Tzimisce vampires entering the steel mill. Doing a mental tally, he estimated the forces he was facing added up to seven in total. Three human hunters, three vampires now, and one of the Tzimisce's horrid creations that he had yet to kill. It was an improvement, considering he started out at a twenty-to-one disadvantage, but it was still a disadvantage.
Dodging as another bullet from the sniper nearly struck him, he gathered a burst of hellfire from his soul and flung it towards the sniper. A scream of agony confirmed that Alleron's attack had struck true, and he let himself smirk a little. It wasn't much of a surprise, Alleron had after all defeated an Antediluvian back in the day, but he still liked the pulse, the thrill of battle.
Jumping off the platform, he opened his wings and glided down at high speed, landing behind the three Tzimisce vampires who now desperately tried to attack him. Despite being barehanded, Alleron was still far stronger than anything these vampires had ever encountered in their long lives, and he was also attuned to the element of fire, one of the banes of vampirism.
Jumping up into the air, he ignited his fists and slammed down on the vampire in the middle. The impact produced an explosion of volcanic fire, instantly destroying the Tzimisce and gravely wounded both of his comrades with painful burns that would not heal for days, if not weeks. But, they didn't have that long, so it was a moot point. Alleron turned and ripped the head off of the one to his left, while he was still screaming in agony.
Sensing the last Tzimisce was going to attack him, he turned, but only a few moments too late. The Tzimisce managed to gain a grip on his leathery wing, and before Alleron could swing around or knock the vampire off of his back, the vampire had done his damage. Using the fleshcrafting ability of the Tzimisce clan, he easily removed the entirety of the wing from Alleron's body.
Alleron screamed in agony as the amputation occurred. So did the vampire as he found a nasty surprise. The blood that flowed out of the severed wing melted everything it came in contact with, its properties mimicking the lava it appeared to be. It burned off the vampire's hand, and the flames of ignition spread up his body and moved, almost like a living entity as it incinerated the vampire. He screamed in agony up until the moment he burst into ashes.
Picking up his severed wing, Alleron quickly tossed it into the vat of molten steel. The last thing he needed was for it to be discovered by some human authorities.
Turning abruptly, he cast invisibility on himself, pressing up against a wall and searching for the last hunter. Feeling the pain of the wound lessen slowly as the wing worked to regenerate, he narrowed his eyes as he carefully looked around the steel mill, listening for any hint of his quarry.
However, the noise of the mill easily covered any chance he had of picking up the hunter through sound alone. Sight, on the other hand, allowed him to spot the second hunter on the upper level, searching like a hawk, pointing an automatic rifle in whichever direction he was looking at. He moved professionally, as a soldier, calm, cold, ruthless. Alleron felt a little bit of respect towards the hunter. He knew what it was like to be a soldier.
Too bad Alleron wasn't going to let him live, though.
The hunter turned away from him, perhaps thinking Alleron was going to pounce on him from behind. He was right about that, just not in the way he'd expected. Dropping his spell of invisibility, Alleron gathered a ball of hellfire in his hand, letting it grow larger and larger until it was the size of a basketball. At least, that is how Alleron would describe it, had he known what a basketball was.
With a scream, he hurled the ball of hellfire at the hunter. With unerring accuracy, it streaked towards the hapless human, and he turned just in time for the flames to impact with his head. The fire did not explode, or merely burn, it simply consumed. Flesh and bone were consumed instantly, long before the pain receptors could tell the hunter he was in agony, and the headless corpse dropped to the ground, the stump of his neck smoking.
Instantly, he felt the slight, almost completely negligible impacts on his armor as automatic gunfire struck him in the chest. If he had been human, the bullets would have likely been fatal. But against Alleron's supernatural resiliency, and the impossibly dense nature of his armor, it wasn't any threat to him at all. The bullets bounced off of him with no more effect than a light rainshower.
Advancing towards the source, the last hunter, a black-haired female, backed up, desperately reloading her machine pistol as the Devil Knight calmly strode towards her. She was treated to a vision of invincibility as Alleron's wing, torn off mere moments before, began to regrow before her eyes, the bone growing out of the injury into a long spine, the leathery wing sprouting along behind.
She finally managed to reload the pistol, just in time for Alleron to stand right in front of her. Even as she raised it, he simply snapped his hand out and grabbed the weapon. He held it up in front of her face and crushed it in one hand, the metal flowing through his fingers easily.
She desperately punched at him, but he caught her fist in his hand, whirled her around without any effort, and grabbed her chin. Without a single pause, he twisted her head, breaking her neck with a loud crunch.
Pausing momentarily, he listened for the last of the ones out for his blood, the fleshcrafted creature of the Tzimisce. Hearing a quiet skittering, he turned, tuning his senses until he found where it was. It was busy crawling up the wall, trying to get to a place it could swipe down at him from above. Alleron smirked to himself, throwing a small ball of fire its way, and outright grinning when it fell to the floor, howling.
It was a small creature, it only had two limbs, tapered off into sharp claws. The unnatural creature easily reoriented itself, climbing back to its feet, and turned on Alleron. It jumped at him, growling. An instant before it could scratch at him, though, Alleron's fist met it, destroying the creature's skull. Its body flew back, landing on the floor in a heap, twitching only occasionally as it finally realized it was dead.
Alleron quickly resumed his illusion of humanity, and left the steel mill.
'I suppose the technological way is out. I guess a volcano it is. I think I just might know where to go, without even leaving the continent.'
Vanessa was bored.
It was quite understandable to the current Vampire Slayer. Being chained to a wall in a cellar was quite tedious. Her captors didn't even have the good grace to provide her with a television set.
Though that was something of a mixed blessing, she supposed. A truly sadistic demon would set it to a channel devoted to Jehovah's Witnesses or something. Still, it left her with little options in the way of preserving her sanity. She knew now, that there were exactly one hundred and twenty four bricks in the opposite wall.
The thing that unsettled her most, however, was that she knew, on some fundamental level, that Ifrit was telling the truth. That the Slayer spirit was nothing more than a Devil Knight, taken, stripped of her body and broken down into insanity, and then finally forced into symbiosis with young women.
It frightened her, the thought that the power she had embraced so whole-heartedly came from such a horrible act, even though it was done to a demon. She wouldn't wish the fate of unending insanity on anybody, even her worst enemies. While she did prefer stupid enemies, once she killed them, she didn't hold any further grudges. She wasn't that kind of person. Besides, what's the point of keeping grudges after your enemy has gone with the wind, literally?
She sighed. Tugging on the chains once more, she realized that whatever method was used in forging them, it was more than enough to keep her in place indefinitely. It wasn't made out of any metal she'd ever seen in her time.
She closed her eyes momentarily, and reopened them when she felt a draft. She realized that the temperature had just dropped several degrees, and mist was flowing through a crack in the wall. Yet, instead of flowing like mist should, it moved with a purpose, a will of its own, and it coalesced in a single point, against all the laws of nature. It grew denser and denser, until it assumed the shape of a middle-aged, bearded blond man.
He put a finger to his lips, carefully looking around the cellar. Vanessa looked at him through her aural senses, seeing in moments that he was a vampire, very old. He felt cold, grey, as if he had let go of hope a long time ago, and was now simply going through the motions of existence. He didn't feel dark or consumed by malice, simply old.
He moved smoothly over to her, speaking quietly. "I am Wilhem, I know this sounds incredibly cliche, but I'm here to help."
She chuckled lightly at that. "Yes, it is. Do you mind getting these chains off me? I'd like to get out of here sometime this decade."
Wilhem extended his hand, his fingers extending into vicious looking claws as he gripped the chain holding her right arm. The claws cut through the metal, and with a squeal of protest, the chain gave way, clattering on the floor. Wilhem quickly sliced through the others, and when it was done, Vanessa gave a sigh of relief as she felt proper circulation return to her arms. They'd gone numb after being held above her head for hours.
There was a loud crash from the top of the cellar stairs, just as Wilhem and Vanessa began to move in that direction. Slayer and Kindred both protected their eyes as the splinters of the wooden door showered over them. The form of Ifrit's human disguise walked down the wooden steps, slowly, even regally. He smiled at the pair, coming to a pause at the bottom of the stairs, and he crossed his arms. His pose showed he was completely at ease, confident that neither the Slayer, nor the centuries-old vampire could harm him.
Vanessa felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, as Ifrit let a small fraction of his power leak out, causing his eyes to glow with unholy fire. He began to speak, a smirk on his face. "Ah, such irony. The vampire comes to save the Slayer. If only that idiotic shaman and his apprentices could see this. They would have a fit."
Vanessa took a step back, and Wilhem, perhaps unconsciously realizing just how powerful Ifrit was, drew a broadsword from his coat, moving into a defensive stance.
Ifrit chuckled lowly. "So you seek to fight me, little vampire? Do you think for one moment you could stand against me? A little mortal being seeking to bring me down? I was around long before this world was spun from the darkness, billions of years ago."
Wilhem smiled faintly. "I can but try."
Ifrit threw his head back and laughed. "I like you, little one. Truly, I do. But, I'm afraid I can't let you have little Vanessa here. I need something of hers, and I'll not let you escape with her. I don't want to go through all the trouble of capturing her again."
Wilhem rose his broadsword. "Vanessa, get out of here. I'll hold him off."
Vanessa nodded, moving off to the side, so when the opening was clear, she could escape. She cast a glance in Wilhem's direction, hoping she'd see him again.
Ifrit moved forward smoothly, confidently. Wilhem activated the Discipline of Celerity and closed the distance between them in a blur. His broadsword flashed out, faster than Vanessa could follow.
Yet, somehow, Ifrit followed it. He raised his arm and put it in the path of the whistling blade. The steel sword shattered like a piece of ice on pavement, rather than the tempered metal it truly was. Wilhem paused, momentarily, looking at the blade's broken bits as they slowly flew through the air in his sped-up perceptions.
With a speed that took Wilhem by surprise, even in the distorted perceptions in Celerity, Ifrit threw a punch that soundly struck Wilhem in the jaw, sending him flying through the air to slam against the stone wall where Vanessa was held. He slid to the floor with a groan, only the Discipline of Fortitude, which, though not an inherent ability of the Brujah, he had studied diligently, keeping him going. It reduced the pain of the impact, preventing the massive amounts of damage that Ifrit would have inflicted, allowing Wilhem to stay conscious. He got to his feet, growling lowly and discarding the broken hilt of his weapon. He flexed his hands, sprouting long claws from his fingers. Moving in once more, his claws flashed through the air. They were capable of rending through flesh and bone easily, even capable of cutting through steel and stone with little trouble.
Yet against Ifrit's skin, they merely caused the faintest of sparks as they impacted, unable to even cause the slightest cut. Ifrit's backhanded attack was far more effective, forcing Wilhem to spin around, spitting blood as he reeled from the impact. Ifrit pressed his advantage, slamming his fist into Wilhem's stomach, forcing the vampire to fall to the floor.
As Ifrit moved forward to inflict further pain on Wilhem, Vanessa took the opportunity to flee. She dashed up the stairs, devoting her aural senses to the battle while she used her mundane senses to guide her out. She quickly burst from the church, running towards Sandra's flat, even as she felt every blow Ifrit landed on Wilhem. He sent out waves of power with each impact, and it frightened her immensely when she realized that Ifrit was holding back.
And Ifrit was still beating the old vampire to death through brute force.
Wilhem felt his long inactive organs liquify as Ifrit smashed his fist into his belly. A powerful backhand drove Wilhem to his knees as Ifrit pressed his advantage. Acting with desperation, Wilhem tried to block the next strike Ifrit made, but, it was in vain. Ifrit's fist slammed through Wilhem's chest, and the Devil Lord casually smirked as he wrapped his fist around the nine-hundred year old vampire's heart.
Wilhem looked down in disbelief at the spectacle of another person's arm sticking through his chest. He coughed, a burst of blood spraying from his mouth. Ifrit lifted Wilhem up, his smile growing viciously as he slowly and agonizingly increased the temperature of his hand. Soon the wound began to smoke, and Wilhem screamed. Moments later, Wilhem Striker of the Brujah Clan ignited, bursting into flame as his heart, perhaps the second most important organ in a vampire's body, shriveled and burst. A moment later, his body burst into ashes, and Ifrit dusted himself off as Wilhem's remains floated to the floor.
Lifting his head, he closed his eyes and stretched his senses out, his mind hunting for the Slayer. He felt her running towards her home, the place of her Watcher, presumably to tell her what happened and why she had disappeared.
He was about to teleport out, to cut her off, when he felt another presence close by. A pitiful, demonic vampire, weak by the standards of any that did not belong to her own kind, or the even weaker human. The thing that was throwing him off was the humming.
She was humming happily, some old melody which he did not know or care for. He was about to advance on her to end her pitiful unlife when she sang happily. "I know what you want!"
He paused, crossing his arms and smirking slightly. "Perhaps. A more important question is, can you give it to me, hmmm?"
She smiled at him, the light in her eyes betraying her madness. "I can, if you'll let me have the gray one. I'll give you your throne for his cool, dark eyes."
Ifrit smiled slightly. "I think that can be arranged, little one. What is your name, seer?"
Drusilla smiled widely.
Xander strode towards the hillside, painfully aware he only had two hours before the sun rose. He didn't have a great deal of time to bury the elven assassin's corpse and get back to his haven before he was turned into a momentary human torch. He carried the body in his arms, moving forward while mentally calculating the next step in his attempts to control the Beast within.
He was completely unaware of the sniper, the third and final assassin, as the expert marksman aimed at Xander's back, the laser scope pointing perfectly at his target. The red dot moved up, up, slowly and surely, tracing up Xander's spine as the vampire walked away.
Smirking to himself, the Terakan aimed right at the middle of Xander's neck, right upon the spinal cord. Now, there was nothing. Nothing but the target, himself, and the rifle in his hands.
Emotionlessly, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet left the rifle at over twice the speed of sound. It slammed into Xander's neck, and he immediately collapsed on top of the corpse he was carrying in his arms.
In a strange way, it was the fact he was carrying the dead assassin's body that saved his existence. Xander's walk was slightly off due to the mass of the corpse in his arms, changing his gait by a tiny bit. The sniper had miscalculated this, the bullet missing the spine by the smallest of margins, and instead of passing through the vital nerves in the back of his neck, instead it passed just to the right of it, emerging out of the young Kindred's throat.
The injury was painful, almost beyond belief, but Xander shunted the feeling to the side as he realized that the third assassin had actually come along at the same time as the elven ninja. Barely managing to keep his wits about him, he remained still, feeling the wound slowly heal itself. His throat burned with pain, agony, even, but he did not dare let himself scream. He had time enough for that after he was out of danger. He listened carefully as the sniper advanced towards him, probably armed with another weapon.
Instinctively, he rolled over and threw the body of the elven assassin at the hunter. He found out that was a very wise choice, as the startled human pulled the trigger on the weapon in his hands, throwing out a gust of flames.
Cursing, Xander ran away from his hunter as the human threw the body off him. He started to move in the same direction as Xander, but stopped and considered as he realized there was no way he was going to keep up with the vampire. Especially carrying a solid-fuel flamethrower.
The technology of war had advanced by a fairly large degree. While civilian weaponry was almost the same as it was at the beginning of the twenty-first century, military equipment had become smaller, more refined and more powerful. War between armies was almost entirely a thing of the past, now it was wars of infiltration, of small groups of agents. But when an infantry-clearing weapon was needed, the solid-fuel flamethrower was a huge jump when it came to such weaponry.
The fuel was kept under immense pressure, both solidifying it and keeping it stable inside the container, as well as making it easier to carry. As the fuel was injected into the nozzle, the pressure was released, making the fuel almost explode out the end, increasing area and spread. It lost effectiveness as the fuel inside the containers eventually reverted to liquid, but it took quite a bit of time for that to happen. As the assassin considered this, he moved back towards the vampire's haven.
He smiled to himself as he began liberally dousing the shack with fire. The old wood easily caught, and soon the shack was completely in flames. It burned brightly in the night sky, and Xander could only watch as his one chance for shelter during the day went up in smoke.
The young vampire considered his options. He couldn't run for cover, because even if he managed to find some out in the desert, there would be nothing preventing the assassin from cooking him alive during the day anyway. He was too far away from the city to make it back before daylight, even to a sewer access. He had to figure out a way to kill the hunter, without any long-range weapons.
Speed alone wasn't going to do it. While he was reasonably certain he could avoid the flames while in Celerity, he wasn't about to risk his entire existence on it, and the slightest mistake would kill him. He knew it and the assassin knew it.
He bent down and picked up a rock the size of his fist. He tried to consider what his next move would be. He smiled as an idea came to him. He threw the stone as hard as he could at the assassin, smiling a little bit as it caused him to grunt and reel back. Even as the assassin regained his footing, he looked back at where Xander was standing.
Only Xander was no longer there.
He turned abruptly when he heard the engine of a car start up. He managed to get a glimpse of a red car barrel towards him, Xander's cold face over the steering wheel. Turning the flamethrower on to its full power, he desperately sprayed it at the oncoming vehicle.
Unfortunately for the assassin, even the extremely high power of the flamethrower wasn't enough to eat through the car's metal in the second between the car reaching the flames, and the car smashing into him. His body went flying through the air, as the car, on fire, kept on going, moving past him at a high speed, where Xander skidded to a stop and jumped out of the car.
Xander ran away from his car as fast as his legs would take him, anticipating that the gas tank would explode. He moved at full speed in Celerity, towards the assassin, before the human could get to his feet. Moving behind him, Xander spied the tank on the assassin's back, and mistaking the solid-fuel tank for a liquid one, he picked up a rock and smashed down on it. A small hole was formed by the single strike, but, so was a single spark.
The whole thing exploded, incinerating the assassin immediately. Nothing moved.
Xander was surrounded by gray.
It was like a murky mist, flowing here and there, swirling just at just the corner of his eye, but when he tried to look at the flowing mist, he could detect no movement.
He had this sense of foreboding. As if, somehow, a part of him knew something dreadful that he did not. As the feeling intensified, he began to become really uncomfortable.
"Hello?" He called out.
He raised his hands instinctively as a bright light shone in his eyes. He could only get a small glimpse of a figure, surrounded by light, emerged from the gray mists that eddied out of the way. He winced as he tried to gather details, so he might begin to think of what his situation was.
And he found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.She was dressed in a simple toga, large white angelic wings sprouting from her back. Her hair was blond, cascading down around her face in curls. Her most distinctive feature, however, was her eyes. They glowed golden as she examined Xander, standing before her.
"Greetings, young one. I am Sariel, the Goddess of Guidance." She spoke with a melodious voice.
Xander just stood there for a moment, until his mind caught up with what she just said. Then he smacked his face and groaned. "Oh great, I'm dead, aren't I?"
Aura stepped out of her car, watching the shack burn itself down to cinders. The young Garou walked over to the smouldering mess that used to be the last Terakan assassin.
The explosion of the solid-fuel suddenly returning to liquid state had destroyed most of him. Only his head was left. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air, causing Aura to nearly retch. She looked around for any sign of her companion's friend.
From the pattern of the explosion, it looked like there was another body caught in it, but she could not see any ashes or dust anywhere nearby. If Xander had died in that way, there would certainly be ash at least, and he wasn't old enough to simply burst into dust when he died. A Kindred had to get over about two centuries for that to occur, otherwise they would indeed leave a corpse.
She took in the sight of Xander's partially burnt car, fairly serviceable, still useable, though any body shop would likely make him pay through the nose to fix it.
Feeling a presence behind her, she turned to see her father's grinning face.
"Hello cutie-pie." Goral spoke.
Sariel simply smiled at Xander. "No child, you are not dead. Well, you are, in the sense of you not existing in a living body, but you are still a corporeal being, you have not yet suffered Final Death."
Xander wiped his brow. "Good, whew. You had me going there for a minute. So...where are we? I mean it's kinda...empty, you know, it's not where I'd expect a goddess to hang out."
She shook her head. "This is a realm I have crafted so we may speak with each other, without others eavesdropping upon our conversation. There are things and events involved that you must be aware of, if we are to have a chance."
Xander crossed his arms. "A chance at what? Why did you bring me up here? I mean, I'm flattered at the attention and all, but why me, here and now?"
Sariel waved her hand, and the mist cleared, forming an image of a hideous creature, a thing formed of shadow and darkness, a creature bound in some sort of unimaginable torment. But that agony did not bring empathy to anyone else, indeed, Xander could see that given half a chance, the thing would happily drag any other soul down with it to share its misery.
Sariel spoke. "Behold the First Evil, in its true state. When the multiverse was created by the One Above, the first thing that formed in the cosmos was this creature. It lived in darkness and thrived. It spawned the various dark creatures that, even now, exist on thousands of worlds throughout the multiverse.
"Sensing that her creation was being overwhelmed by the dark beings, the creatures of evil, she responded by forming us, the Celestial Host. We were sent out to drive back the darkness, banish the demons from this plane and bind them in the worst of dimensions, the Hell dimensions. In this we succeeded. There was not one demon left on this world, and we departed for other dimensions, to spread the light."
Xander rose his hand hesitantly. "A couple questions. The big creator is female? And, um, if you got rid of all the demons, then why are demons still around now? Why am I a vampire, stuff like that?"
Sariel sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Yes, the One Above is a female. Only females can bear life in nature, after all. Women are the creators of life, that stands true whether divine or mortal. As for your second question, I am afraid, Xander, that your world is a mistake."
Xander blinked. "What? A mistake? You're not about to tell me that everything I've gone through is an accident, are you?"
Sariel shook her head. "No, many things have been guided, but your course is not an accident, nor has it been guided by us. Please, let me go on."
Xander nodded, his stance showing his displeasure at what he was being told.
Sariel gathered her thoughts for a moment and continued on. "At first, we sealed the First away in the Abyss. The result was a world without any demons in it, and while it had hints of the supernatural, as technology advanced, they faded. As that technology advanced, the seals on the First became stronger and stronger. Just before it could be bound permanently, it used a last-ditch effort towards freedom.
"She sent a message back through time to herself, with instructions on what to do to prevent her own ultimate fate. With this information, the First used the power she had, a great deal of it, to connect two worlds together, a Hell and your Earth. The result was an Earth that had demons hiding in the darkness, with the demonic vampires wandering throughout the world, killing some and turning others. History was much the same, but always with the supernatural around every corner.
"In this world, the events of your life were nearly identical to this one. Except with one major difference: There were no Kindred in that world. You were never turned into a vampire. The night you turned in this timeline never happened in the other. You went on with Buffy, the Slayer, who, after a great deal of trials and horrors, ultimately released the First."
Xander waved his arms. "What do you mean, 'we' freed it? Come on, it's not like we'd get together to actually free a big ugly monstrous evil onto the world. We spent a lot of effort almost every year trying to stop just that!"
Sariel shook her head. "It is through no fault of your own, Xander. Buffy had been killed through an encounter with a Hell Goddess in that timeline. You and your friends resurrected her, not realizing that such an event would disrupt, and greatly increase, the power of the Devil Knight Vensarra, who is the source of the Slayer's power. By increasing Vensarra's power, the First was given an open chance to identify Slayers before they actually became Slayers.
"Her servants began to kill them, all over the world, in an effort to drive your group into a panic, going along with every chance you had to try and beat the First's plan. The First completed its deception by threatening to unleash a primal type of vampire onto the world, called the Turok-Han. Just when your group ran out of ideas, the First itself provided a weapon that Vensarra used in her life. Willow used the weapon to turn all the potential Slayers into active ones, which was the First's plan all along.
"By extending Vensarra's influence everywhere, it opened a doorway for the First to enter this world, albeit weakened. Soon afterwards, however, the First had enough power from devouring human souls to begin creating demons anew, and the world was soon overrun by the creatures. After that, they began to encroach upon the Heavens, and we had to intervene."
Xander shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. "Why couldn't you come in before? I mean you're the good guys, you've got powers that are a lot stronger than the bad guy's, right?"
Sariel nodded. "Yes, we do, however we were outnumbered a billion to one. With enough numbers, even the weakest of creatures can overwhelm a god, even as enough ants can kill a human."
Xander nodded. "Okay, I get that."
Sariel went on. "We were forced to take the world that was closest to the one you lived in and merge the timelines. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough time to gather all the details about that world. When the timeline reset, Lucifer and Jehova, the two most powerful of our number, had been altered on a fundamental level. Jehova set himself up as the ruler of our number, and he sought to rule the Celestial Host and the multiverse. He had been corrupted by the First when the timeline altered.
"Lucifer was also changed by the timeline's alteration. He began to love mankind, eventually loving humanity more than his fellows, as a parent would love a child. Jehova realized that mankind, if given enough time, could Ascend beyond us, and he became afraid. Seizing Lucifer's growing love for humanity as a banner, he began an attempt to oust Lucifer and limit humanity's potential. Upon learning this, Lucifer rose the banner of rebellion and went to defeat Jehova. Jehova lost the battle, but the other members of the Celestial Host who had been neutral in the matter thought Lucifer was simply trying to grab power. Michael stepped forward and assumed leadership, and they went and crushed the rebellion. Most of those who lost were cast into the Abyss, where the First could twist them for her own purposes.
"During the war, a young boy named Caine killed his brother in a petty feud. Normally this would not attract any attention, humans do this all the time. However, Caine also met up with the first magick-user of your world, Lilith. She gave him power, and Michael took some of his fellows to prevent Caine and Lilith from using the power to Ascend. They would have been the worst possible members of godhood had they managed it, so they were cursed. Lilith was stripped of most of her emotions, and Caine was cursed to walk the night, to search for living blood. Michael did not anticipate that Caine would be capable of passing the curse, and the power, in his blood down to others.
"And thus history went on, with I searching for a way to prevent the world from spiraling down into the darkness once more. The other members of the Celestial Host had left, giving up on this world. They went to build up numbers on other worlds should the First win here, as it had before. I and Michael stayed to try to defeat the First."
Xander spoke. "Okay, so if you guys manage to beat the First this time, what's to stop it from sending another message back to change things up yet again?"
Sariel smiled slightly. "Good, you're always thinking, I like that. The First is more tightly bound this time, she has already used up most of her power in resetting the timeline before. She can only direct, or astral-project, into worlds that are already hers, and she can gain no sustenance from her own children. She needs to conquer this world or be trapped permanently. If she loses this time, that is all. But if we lose this time, we could not reset the timeline either. Michael and I do not have the power ourselves, we would need every member of the Celestial Host to do it. With most of them in the Abyss, some of them free on Earth, a few of them acting as Devil Lords in the various Hells, and the rest on other worlds, that is impossible."
Xander nodded, chewing his lip. "Nice history lesson there, but what does that have to do with me? I'm not exactly equipped to take on the First Evil here."
Sariel rubbed her chin. "The First is nearly on her last bit of power. She is now counting on Ifrit Ascending and disrupting the dimensions, so that she can gain more of a foothold here. Ifrit is unaware of this, and so are most of the demons from his home dimension."
Xander began pacing. "And let me guess, you want me to stop him? Sure. No problem. Just give me a good big bag of Kryptonite and I'll be on my way."
Sariel tilted her head. "Kryptonite?"
Xander looked at her incredulously. "Kryptonite. Green rock, usually about the size of a fist. Kills Supermen dead. Got any of it?"
Sariel just looked more confused. Xander sighed. "What's his weakness? I'm willing to bet chopping off his head would do it but I don't know anything about Ifrit other than the fact he's a Devil Lord and he's here. I don't wanna rush at him unless I know I can actually hurt the guy. I had trouble enough trying to hurt one of his servants."
Sariel nodded, her confusion lessening. "There is no mortal weapon on the face of this world that can injure Ifrit. His defense of souls is simply too strong, too resilient. However, there are a few immortal weapons that could injure him. The Ainkurn is one such blade, your grand-sire possesses it, but he and his consort are currently enjoying their time together, far from human eyes. The second is Vensarra's Lochaber Axe, known among a few in this world as the Slayer's Scythe. It lies beneath the vineyard to the west of the highschool. I believe it belonged to the Hothman family some years ago. Beneath the vineyard is Vensarra's temple, however you are unlikely to be able to remove it. Only Vensarra herself could remove it from the stone."
Xander sighed. "Great. So what else can I do? Dunk him in liquid nitrogen?" Then he blinked. "Hey, that's kind of a good idea. The problem would be actually getting him into that liquid nitrogen."
Sariel shook her head. "It would work, but I do not see how you could get Ifrit to do so. He always fights on his terms, and if he has the slightest indication that you might have a successful trap laid out for him, he will simply strike from another direction. But, you need not worry. A third weapon is about to be forged in the hands of one who might be able to defeat Ifrit."
Xander smiled. "Sweet."
It was the largest active volcano in the world. The first time it had erupted, some two million years ago, it had caused a level of devastation on the North American continent that no human, beyond a geologist, could conceive of. It had blown away sixty miles of mountains in a flash. It had destroyed everything living within a thousand mile radius of the site. It left massive amounts of ash, covering Nebraska with it, which also helped make the state, such a long time later, a very good place to grow crops.
Unknown to the world, the last time it erupted, roughly six hundred thirty thousand years ago, it had obliterated a full twenty demon species. It had reduced the species known much later as 'The Mayor-Snake' to near extinction, at least upon the face of the Earth. The only one left was killed thousands of years later, in another volcanic eruption, which was at the time about the only thing that could injure such a creature.
Alleron pondered these facts as he walked towards the center of the caldera, or basic crater, the volcano left on the land. This volcano was unique. Most formed into mountains, sometimes over a short period of time. But this volcano had erupted so rapidly, and so violently, no mountain formed. Instead it left a huge region on the land, simply blasted out.
For Alleron's purposes, it was perfect.
The region was beautiful. He moved easily through the trees, stopping abruptly as he came face-to-furred nose of a wolf. He smiled slightly at it, and it backed away, cautiously, carefully. Alleron could respect that. Wolves are cautious, but playful animals, and he had liked that about them the last time he was on Earth.
Coming to the very center of the caldera, he closed his eyes and stretched out his senses. He could feel the massive amount of natural energy built up in the region, restrained only barely by the rocks around him.
With his senses stretched out, he felt a pocket in the liquid magma flowing far beneath him. Concentrating hard on his destination, he vanished in a flash of light and reappeared in the cavern. He looked around, seeing a stream of liquid rock flow into a pool of water beneath him, letting out huge amounts of steam. He smiled as he felt the superheated steam in the cavern, feeding off the energy of the heat. It would no doubt sustain him for years, now.
Drawing the hilt of his sword, Alleron carefully gripped the end of hilt and dipped the broken end of the blade into the molten magma. He chanted lowly as he cast his magic, not forcing the natural forces of the Earth to his bidding as a mage, but instead asking it, cooperating with it, offering assistance for assistance.
The molten magma beneath him shifted, responding to his call. An explosion of rock blasted out of the pool, impacting against the wall near Alleron, showering the Devil Knight with stones. He shrugged off his surprise, but smiled at his good fortune.
Slowly drawing the hilt away from the magma, molten rock stayed on the end, held in its shape by his will. It glowed brightly, causing the Devil Knight's smile to grow. The Earth itself had responded favorably to his request. That didn't happen every day. He frowned as he wondered what the Earth would want in exchange for his request, and whatever he could possibly offer it, but he shrugged and put it out of his mind, turning it to the task at hand.
Willing a hammer and anvil to form from the energy around him, he carefully laid the molten blade across the anvil. He began to hammer at the molten rock, forcing it into the desired shape. With every strike of the hammer, the blade glowed more brightly, the rock transforming as he worked. The sounds changed from the dull clack of metal striking rock and mutated into metal striking metal, so common in forges around the world.
The work continued for hours, the Devil Knight never stopping or taking a break. As long as he was surrounded by the heat, he could work indefinitely. It was not only pleasant to Alleron, it was sustaining, life-giving. Whereas a human would not survive an instant in the conditions, Alleron positively loved it.
When the blade was in the shape he desired, Alleron laid the now glowing, adamantine blade across the anvil. He moved over to the wall, where the stones that had exploded out of the magma lay. Had they done so in an oxygen-rich environment, they would be smoking, even burning. He pulled the stones from the wall, taking one large one in particular, and placed it between his hands. He began to squeeze, forcing the molecules to come together more tightly, more rigidly.
Ordinarily, he would not have the strength to do so. Even his father, as powerful as he is, could not compress a block of stone into a gem. But here, fed by the Earth's energies, strengthened greatly, constantly being replenished by the power flowing about him, he could. It was perhaps the one place in all the world he could.
Tightening his grip, using his hands as much as his mind and will, the gem formed from the base materials so helpfully provided for him. Once he felt it was right, he removed the pressure, holding the glowing, white-hot mass in his hands. He carefully watched, correcting any imperfection in the diamond as they occurred. He let it cool, slowly, being careful to prevent his own hands from warping the treasure he had just forged.
What he was left with was a chunk of diamond, a perfectly spherical one at that. It wasn't terribly large, only three centimeters across, but human value was not what he desired the gem for. Turning back to the still-glowing blade left on the anvil, he took the diamond and began to hammer it into the weapon, just above the hilt.
When he was done, he concentrated on the complete weapon before him. Closing his eyes, he drew all the residual heat he could from the blade. It immediately turned black, the diamond glittering in the light of the cavern. He held it up, admiring his work.
Before, it was a huge greatsword. Now it was quite a bit different, in keeping with the need for stealth. It was only the length of a broadsword, about 75 centimeters in length. Alleron knew it would suffice, for it was not the size of the weapon, but the skill of the user that determined battles. A greatsword would only be a weapon of intimidation in this new world of his. Alleron was after creating a weapon of war.
He rose the sword above his head, calling all the power he could to bear. The blade burst into white-hot flame, polishing it to a mirror shine, altering the color of the diamond as Alleron's magic flowed into it. He let the blade burn for a short while, then he ceased it.
Now the weapon was a work of art. Formed out of adamantine, it would be nearly unbreakable, and would never need sharpening. The diamond, now glowing with contained fire, would keep enough magic within to let the blade burst into flame whenever he desired it. So long as it was fed with his, or at least, a compatible source of magical energy, the blade would be a nearly unstoppable weapon.
He twirled it in his hand, testing the new balance, familiarizing himself with his new weapon. When he was done, he willed a sheath to appear out of the air, and he buckled the blade to his waist. He let out a roar of triumph as he knew that now, he could finally reach his daughter, prepared, for the other presence that would meet at his destination.
He spoke, his words rippling across the distance in an instant, reaching the ears he intended for them to reach with relish. "You'd best leave her be, father. For now I am prepared for you, and should you lay one finger upon my daughter's head, I will ensure that you wish you were back in Hell, for I shall send you into the jaws of the Abyss itself."
He felt the reply only moments later as Ifrit spoke. "I was wondering when you were going to show up, my son. Your defiance amuses me, you sniveling little prat. By the time you get here I will no longer need your daughter, or this pathetic planet. You, and every other sentient thing in this universe will have to bow before me once more, Alleron. I look forward to your struggle, as amusing and futile as it will be, for I have already won."
Growling, Alleron teleported out of the chamber, almost sighing in regret as the constant flow of power left him. Moving back through the woods, he came back to the road where he had left his Jeep. As he drove away from the volcano, passing cars filled with various families of humans, and the occasional halfling or orc, he could not help but wonder if any of them truly understood what they were standing on top of.
He only gave a passing glance to the sign welcoming visitors as he left, readying himself to catch a flight to the place called California. Still, he remembered the name the humans had assigned to this place, for if he ever needed to forge other weapons, it would be the perfect place to continue his work.
Yes, perhaps it would be good for him to return to Yellowstone National Park someday. Perhaps even with his daughter, as they caught up on all the times he had missed.
Well, there you go, chapter 25. I hope you guys enjoyed this.
I apologize for the delay in sending this out. I can make a lot of excuses, but I'm not going to bother, it would take up too much space. Let's just say life has been hectic and fanfiction hasn't been my highest priority, and leave it at that.
All I'm asking for is some feedback, criticism, good or bad. It's nice to know if anybody out there likes my work, along with any pointers or flaws you might see.
Anyway, later all, and have a good night.