I'm Actually Quite Selfish

[Tearen Wover]

The Colosseum was three days steady march from the outskirts of Grooota, a trip that Tearen had been hoping to make alone. Alas, it was not to be. Grooota had decreed that his two favorite demon underlings, Usshot and Klicka, accompany the shadow to his next destination. The land was completely devoid of light as the three enrobed figures trudged through the thick black sands of the central hellscape, a driving wind whipping the black silicate mass into an obfuscating cloud of darkness. Despite this, the two demon companions seemed to inherently know the way forward. Now that Tearen had the awareness to observe their bodies more closely, he could see that they had also been marked with the arcane, laser-etched brand that Grooota had imparted upon Tearen's own flesh. It was frustrating, more than anything else. Tearen understood that the branding signified him as property of Grooota, but beyond that, it didn't lend any real insight into the workings of the Underverse or the power figures within it. Hopefully getting involved in these tiresome bloodsports would reveal some new information.

When the trio finally arrived at the colosseum city, Tearen was taken aback by how different it was from Grooota. It was little more than an amalgamation of ramshackle slums clustered around a few, crumbling, monolithic structures. None of the mechanical life or vigor of the Machine City existed here; it was the inhabitants who gave this nameless convergence of diabolism its life. Myriad demons or otherwise filled the tight, winding streets, passing in and out of cloth-draped doorways, crossing small overhead bridges that spanned the unlit pathways, and clamoring all around the visitors from Grooota. Usshot and Klicka wasted no time in bringing Tearen to the spike-ridden ramparts of the town's local arena, keeping pawing hands and curious gropers away from the Prime. It was odd that they would be so protective of him, even after he had demonstrated his raw potential so recently.

Why defend me to this degree? I can handle myself if necessary. Tearen stated, sending the dour thoughts trickling into the two demons' brains. Usshot cringed and shot a glowing glare back at Tearen before turning to Klicka.

"Agh, I hate it when it talks inta our heads." the larger demon grumbled, grabbing Tearen and pushing him through a large portcullis which ground open with a terrible screech.

"Yah...too troo." Klicka responded, vibrating his insectoid jaw for good measure. Tearen's eyes narrowed into a scowl; it hadn't expected to be ignored in this manner, while simultaneously being paraded around like a damned show dog. It was hard to gauge what exactly the two demons thought of Tearen, but it was surely a negative outlook. As the two demons of Grooota went about submitting Tearen as property to fight on behalf of the Machine City, the shadow looked around the inky black environs at the other combatants that had been hauled here to kill one another. None of them impressed Tearen in particular, but he did take note of a rather interesting looking specter. Whispy lavender smoke seemed to swirl in and around a bone breastplate and horned helmet, with spiked gauntlets slowly turning the pages of a thick grimoire. The rest of these fighters seemed to rely on their brute strength or exotic weaponry. So far as Tearen could tell, this armored ghost was the only soon-to-be combatant who demonstrated any appreciable intelligence. Intrigued, Tearen went to take a step towards the spirit, but was quickly grabbed by the thick hands of Usshot.

"Oi. No gabbin' with the other meat. You'z here ta kill, not make friends." the large demon rumbled, his grip on Tearen's shoulder strengthening considerably. Tearen shot a green leer up into the towering dullard's face, but relented to his ironclad grasp.

And so it was that Tearen was forced to stand, silently in the dank shadow of the staging area. Over time, about a total of thirty individual combatants arrived, each almost completely unique in their own regard. When Grooota had said that Tearen's first arena fight would be a free-for-all, it had not been an understatement. The atmosphere almost reminded the shade of one of his rites of initiation into the Enigma state so very long ago. Perhaps the knowledge gained from that bloodbath would see him through what was surely to be the first of many long trials. After some time, and at the behest of some cue that Tearen could not discern, a large gate was cranked open, causing dull, red light to spill into this proverbial den of lions. The combatants were herded out onto the killing-floor, which was a large square fill with loamy soil and intermittent drainage grates. Offal from countless previous shows was littered and mixed into the damp dust, which would have surely been an overwhelmingly strong stench, had Tearen possessed any sense of smell.

Thousands of glinting demonic eyes winked in the dark stands that rose in a high sphere around the arena floor, with some of the demon spectators apparently hanging upside-down from the ceiling itself. The dull red light came from what Tearen assumed to be a ball of red, glowing blood that hovered ominously above the arena floor. The thronging crowds, ravenous for a spectacle of carnage, belted forth a cacophany of bloodlust, superceded only by the reverberating tones of an unseen supervisor, whose bestial voice roared out loudly in seemingly every direction.

"Welcome to The Tourney of Blood Letting!" it shouted, eliciting another wave of hoots and roars from the audience. Tearen attempted to keep his awareness open as the competitors circled each other inside of the arena, waiting for permission to tear one another's throats out. Had Tearen desired to be smart about this, he simply would have turned incorporeal and waited for a majority of the fiends to slay eachother before emerging to finish the fight. But this wasn't just about playing smart; this was about making a name for himself in the Underverse. These demons, so eager to see a litany of excessive violence, may have been single-minded, but that did not make them stupid. To survive in an environment such as this required a minimum level of savvy and ruthlessness that was long-forgotten in lands such as Coruscant or Camelot. Had Tearen still had the mind of an Enigma, he would have likely found the entire situation extremely pleasing to his sensibilities. He was shaken from his thoughts as the announcer continued.

"The Rules are simple! The last one standing is the victor! Prepare yourselves..." the growling voice boomed.

For blood? Tearen thought wryly to himself.

"FOR BLOOOOOOODD!"

At the screeching of this token command, the glowing red orb of blood overhead immediately burst into a spray of thick, hot effluence, splattering all of the contestants in shining crimson. Tearen was immediately knocked off of his feet as an immense claw of some kind swiped at him from the right. Tearen looked up just in time to see what appeared to be a vaguely humanoid, swirling mass of slime twisting in his direction. Its left arm bore three extremely oversized talons, that would have surely impaled Tearen's body to the ground had he not raised a hyperbolic shield right before the follow-up attack hit home. The second Tearen's shield dissipated, a heavy body fell on top of him, breathing its last breath, forcing him to phase through the heavy corpse. The mass of twisting slime was on top of Tearen in an instant, its acidic form engulfing the shadow in a single suffocating lunge. Tearen's eyes widened as the pain bore its way into his stalwart concentration, but refused to give in so quickly. A glimmer within the psychic medium showed him that this sopping abomination did indeed have a centralized brain of sorts, housed within a skinless, faceless lizard skull atop its glistening mass.

Charging power into a single digit on his right hand, Tearen sent a blast of clear, bright light lancing right through the ooze's brain casing, illuminating the entire battlefield in strobing brilliance for a bare instant. Whatever conscience had been holding the stinging slime together was instantly extinguished, causing the slime to fall away from Tearen's body like so much harmless water. The bone components of the monster remained, however, and it was these six foot long implements of death that Tearen telekinetically sent hurtling into the swirling red darkness all around him. The screams of the battle reached an enthralled fever pitch, and Tearen was once again nearly knocked off of his feet as a dueling pair of monstrous hulks wrestled their way towards him. The shadow's eyes flared white, and a gravity well opened up beneath them, pinning them to the spot, which gave a nearby pair of lizard-like humanoids a chance to turn their flamethrowers on the demonic brutes. Their teeth glistened in the light of the searing flame, and Tearen watched, unaware that he had been targeted by another, more subtle combatant.

A sudden clambering, a pinching of tiny claws raced up Tearen's back as something metallic and many-legged climbed up his black body. Tearen whipped around instinctively to try and find the source of the sensation, only to feel what seemed to be a razor sharp needle of some kind begin to try and probe at the base of Tearen's skull. Trying his best to avoid panic, Tearen sent a blast of force in all directions, knocking the burning hellion lizards to their feet, but the creature on Tearen's back clung tightly onto his body. All at once, the thing's piercing needle finally broke through Tearen's stony skin.

A series of images oozed through his mind's eye as whatever had attached itself to him began to try and take control of Tearen's body. Glistening , ruby eyes, ratcheting gears, and swirling darkness. Tearen lurched and thrashed, fully gripping the spikey monstrosity on his body and trying to wrench it free, but his arms could not find the strength. In a battle of pure mental contest, nothing could best his mind, but this creature had completely intersected the connection between Tearen's body and his brain. He watched as his shining black form greedily ran forwards, straight into the path of the renewed flashing of the flamethrowers. Pitiless fire raked across his body for several agonizing moments as the ghastly hissing of the lizard-creatures mocked his pain. Whatever had hijacked his body was trying to get him killed, and having an easy time of it.

What the brain-jacker had not counted on, however, was the fact that Tearen's primary capabilities were not physical in nature. Though his body was not currently under control, his thoughts were. Even amidst the frenzy of fire, blood and screams that surrounded him, Tearen could was able to isolate the mind of the hideous insect that had burrowed its snout into his neck. A primitive mind, but sentient nontheless. Tearen sent the knowledge of a thousand stars funneling into this would-be parasite's pathetic head. The shadow felt as the skittering beast's proboscis slid sickeningly out of his brain. Tearen turned around to look upon the thrashing body of the creature; a brown, metallic looking spider of some kind, with a very unnecessary number of spiked legs. Tearen plucked it out of the blood-soaked dirt with a mental tug and flung it at the face of one of the fire-loving reptiles before they could renew their assault. On a whim, Tearen ducked low to the ground, just as a large, scything talon swept over his bend back, cutting the two burning hellions in twain.

Tearen paused for a moment. Ever since coming to the Omniverse, he hadn't been able to peer forwards into the flow of time. But what had just happened, it was almost a reflexive action based on an intuitive guess at what might happen. Was there something about having a more human mind that gave him access to mental processes that had been lost before? Perhaps what might be called instinct? Tearen had no time to think about it as a spear of shining purple death exploded in the dirt before him. The force of the explosion sent his spindly body skywards, which was fortuitious, really. Seizing control of the flow of time for a moment, Tearen quickly surveyed the battlefield from his aerial position. Tracing the line of destruction back to its source, Tearen saw that the armored ghost he had been so fascinated by earlier was the source of the attack.

More importantly, Tearen noted that another combatant was currently in the process of trying to cleave the apparition's arm off, but being incorporeal as it was, the mundane attack was ineffective. He allowed the flow of time to resume its normal pace, and alighted softly back in the gizzard-strewn mud. Despite the fact that the horned armor lacked any sort of eyes, Tearen knew that they had locked their gazes. No more kid gloves. On a whim, the shadow's Aspects all whirled into existence around him, and without hesitation, each sent a thin blast of destructive light towards the marauding specter. With a slashing movement, the ghost called an orange rift to appear in mid air. The gloaming tear in space seemed to swallow the blasts with little ceremony. Once again, instinct took over as Tearen summoned a hyperbolic shield behind himself. It was not a moment too soon, as another orange rift opened to Tearen's rear, sending his own blasts of fusion back at him. The thin beams of destructive energy were, of course, deflected in all directions, no doubt killing more than a few of the remaining combatants.

Tearen and the armored ghost circled around one another, now that there was space opening on the battlefield. A few remaining creatures were finishing their fights on the outskirts of the arena, but as far as Tearen was concerned, this spirit was the only enemy that remained. How then, to injure an enemy that was both already dead, and immune to physical damage?

I would have your name, ghost. Tearen asked, watching the movements of his opponent's hands carefully. Unlike himself, it was clear that somatic components were crucial to the manifestation of its abilities. An echoing, somber voice came in reply.

"I am Shadow Moon, the Cursed Shade." it whispered, pressing a gauntlet against its breastplate. "There was talk that a Prime was among these bloodthirsty souls. Could it be you, I wonder?" the ghost asked, raising a gauntlet towards Tearen with an accusing, pointed finger. Tearen smirked inwardly. Apparently this Shadow Moon had gotten the impression that Tearen had wanted to have a conversation in the middle of a gladiatorial death match. The truth was far from that, however. What Tearen had been after was some sort of indicator of whether or not the ghost considered the armor to be a part of itself or not. Had this been a normal, physical opponent, such details as pressing a hand against one's chest would have been useless, but when it came to ghosts and spirits, psychology was everything.

The sparse armor that the ghost 'wore' left wide open gaps where its smokey, purple essence swirled and twisted. Normally someone would see these areas as weak spots, but in reality, those were where Shadow Moon's strongest defenses lay. Tearen could not be certain, but he was guessing that a direct attack against the armor itself would be the quickest way to dispatch this seemingly unkillable foe. On a whim, Tearen sent his Aspects to swarm around Shadow Moon, the glistening tetrahedrons orbiting in erratic paths and patterns. A full frontal attack was obviously futile, so at the behest of a mental command, the Aspects began to ripple fire their fusion beams at the floating sections of haunted armor.

Ornate baubles and gildings were seared and damaged, but individual blasts from the Aspects weren't sufficient to bore through solid metal like this. Tearen underestimated the ghost, however, as Shadow Moon seemed unfazed by the attempt to distract it from the warp burst that Tearen suddenly attempted to manifest inside the armor itself. The quick-thinking ghost quickly drifted to the right before summoning a surge of fire around its hazy body. The flash of intense orange incinerated Tearen's aspects instantly, and even Tearen's instincts couldn't foresee the ghost's sudden sprint towards him. The shadow was taken aback by the apparent solidity of the blazing sphere, and had to catch itself in mid-air before surging right back towards the spirit.

Now it was Shadow Moon's turn to be surprised as Tearen took full hold of the ghost's breastplate, using a sharp acceleration of time to propel him faster than the spirit could react. The shadow's eyes scrunched in seething anger as he slowly began to press inwards on the chest piece, the seemingly superficial damage caused by the Aspects now causing large, splintering cracks to appear in the frame of the solid metal. The panic in Shadow Moon's mind was palpable, since, try though it might, it could cast no spells to defend itself. Tearen was currently holding on to both of its gauntlets with a telekinetic grasp fueled by rage. Objects. Objects. They were nothing but objects for Tearen to puppet as he pleased. White, pure light began to spill from his eyes as the armor finally began to give out, seams popping as individual rivets fell to the floor of the arena. Shadow Moon's tortured howling filled all of Tearen's senses, fueling his dark reverie. He would be victorious! He would revel in this bloodshed! This was the depth of his humanity!

With a final squeeze, the haunted armor finally gave out, shattering into several large, razor sharp fragments, several of which embedded themselves in Tearen's hands and lower arms. He scarcely registered the pain, however, as he watched the lavender smoke of Shadow Moon's body writhe and dissipate with a shuddering scream. It was almost disappointing really; Tearen had expected all of this to be more of a challenge. Looking up, Tearen scanned the arena for any remaining combatants. He spotted a dueling pair of warriors in one of the far corners of the killing floor, their blood-spattered bodies highlighted by the flickering red ichor. With all the ceremony of stepping on a cockroach, Tearen snapped their necks from fifty yards away in a succession of two distant cracks.

Everything was eerily silent.