The Primordial Weapon

[Alain the Carnedge]

Alain creeped around everybody else under his invisibility, as his orders had been given: take the Tarrasque's "core" and leave. The mercenary was going to try stealing the thing anyway, so who was he to complain? He crouched low and kept moving, making sure that everyone wasn't looking his way as he proceeded. His footprints were unlikely to be seen, but if someone noticed out of the corner of their eye that there were footprints leading to the pedestal, and the core was gone, you get the idea.

In front of the stone pedestal, he looked around on the off chance that somebody had noticed his disappearance, and ran a quick scan of the woman before turning away again. Continuing his mission, he outstretched his hand to grab the orb of Omnilium, prepared to grab it and run to the hills...and his hand phased through the floating sphere. Nothing appeared or otherwise happened, it remained as it was, a floating white ball. "You've gotta be friggin' kidding." He muttered, dumbfounded.

He tried again, no dice. His mouth opened in disbelief. So, this wasn't some dangerous artifact, or even a lame teapot? It was just a floating ball that did exactly squat!? Well, now what? He was either set up, the bloodsucker was mistaken, or the "artifact" was yet to form. Well, there was only one thing he could do that might end with him walking away with what might be a weapon of mass destruction: deal with some of the others on the off chance it'd appear when things died. Everything else in this godforsaken place did.

Checking the analysis's results as he ran back to the field of death, far less concerned about being revealed, the woman's abilities quickly became apparent. Acrobatics, good jumping ability, regeneration, teleportation, a knife, and magic, mostly shadow. Not very powerful but fast and skillful. Dangerous opponent, but knowing all of your foe's abilities is a serious advantage no matter who it is. It'd still be a pain in the ass, but what can you do?

Approaching from behind the woman, who seemed to be deciding upon how to proceed, he summoned his blade and pointed it toward her back before speaking in his natural, unnervingly calm tone. "Just business, lady. We can do this the easy way or th-" She disappeared in an instant, and reappeared a few feet away, throwing three dark knives at where she used to be. Alain calmly sidestepped most of them, but one slashed his hand, and while it was only a small cut, his invisibility faded regardless. He rolled his eyes at himself for not expecting that, and barely turned around in time to notice robokid charging a shot.

Bursting away a split second before he was going to presumably meet Omni in person, who'd laugh at him for dying, Alain turned back to the two. Well, here came the fun part. "Alright then, easy way it is." He grinned in anticipation for another battle, even if he was about to get his ass kicked, and rushed at Whirda as she opened her mouth for presumably a witty retort.

Giving himself another quick burst of speed, he gripped his sword with both hands before swinging, the gigantic blade looking like it'd do a lot more damage than it actually would. Whirda leapt away, trying to gain some distance to perhaps use her magic, but Alain kept on the offensive, close enough make robokid hesitate about his shots in case he hit the woman, but far enough that fighting with such a long sword wasn't too much of a disadvantage.

Each swing was close, but Whirda evaded all of them before giving up on the defensive and drawing her dagger. Rushing forward during the brief period where the mercenary wasn't swinging, she moved in and went for the stab. He wasn't quick enough to evade. The dagger went into his gut, but there was no pain. A faint tingling, at best. So he used the moment of surprise that naturally came with the realization their foe wasn't in any evident harm to use his other hand to grab Whirda by the throat before headbutting her.

Alain quickly let go while his foe was dealing with their headache, and ran to grab his blade to take advantage of the situation. Unfortunately, robokid had got a clear shot as he did that, so a giant sphere of energy was suddenly coming his way. Leaping to the side before he became just as red but a lot more dead, he took the brief chance he had to change his weapon. Sresveltr morphed in a flash of crimson light, the seemingly metallic weapon turning into a glowing, laser-esque blade that illuminated the arrogant smirk that was on the mercenary's face.

"C'mon!"

[Proto Man]

Just a few minutes ago, the motley collection of mercenaries had been fighting in tandem to slay a monster that nearly killed them all before collapsing beneath their onslaught. Now that there was a strange glowing orb at stake, they were more than willing to turn their weapons on one another for a chance to claim whatever hovered above the otherwise unimposing obelisk.

With a grunt, Proto Man fell backwards as the glancing blow from the giant copper shield crashed into the side of his skull. Without losing a beat, Atelos took a step forward and swung his battered bulwark at Dio’s face. Although he had established himself first and foremost as a man with a silver tongue, the pale-skinned warrior had proven himself more than capable of holding his own against anyone who threatened him. Fighting without weapons or his supernatural thing, Dio Brando managed to avoid impalement by a free-floating sword.

Left to his own devices with Whirda now knife-fighting the mercenary Alain, Proto Man started to charge a blast. As the Spartan hoisted up his shield for a thunderous bash on a momentarily staggered Dio, the preteen machine released the attack. The charged blast thundered out of his arm cannon and slammed into Atelos chest, throwing the unsuspecting Spartan a few yards away and leaving him with a fresh burn across his abdomen.

A smile spread across the haggard features of Dio Brando as he turned his eyes to the Prototype Robot Master. “I thank you… have you dec—” A concentrated burst of energy to the chest stole the man’s carefully crafted words from his lips and left him on his back.

Turning sharply on his heels, Proto Man made eye contact with Whirda, who was now seemingly alone. The look in her eyes told the robot that they were far from the only two individuals in the immediate vicinity. As his arm started to thrum once again, the red robot glanced to his peripherals as his field of vision was overlaid in a series of different colored filters. The quick succession stopped when his sensors detected the movement of the cloaked mercenary moving in for what he probably hoped would be an easier target.

“You’re going to need better camouflage than that,” Proto Man replied as he discharged the blast at Alain.

Even as he avoided the boy-sized fighter’s attack, he was set up again by Whirda just as soon as he was fully vertical. Proto had little time to watch their almost eloquent attempts to stab one another before a rampaging Spartan slammed into him.

The tackle threw the kid machine to the ground, but it was the fist to the face that really soured his day.

"Stay down, child!" Atelos roared, his eyes burning as much as the aura around his body as he cocked back a muscled arm to deal another thunderous blow. Before he had a chance, a pair of pink beams tore through his left shoulder and slammed into the dirt a few inches from the side of the robot's skull. The raging Spartan glanced over his wounded shoulder to see a smirking Dio staring at him.

Before either Atelos or Dio could fling another venomous barb, a black shape clouded Proto Man's field of vision. He felt the weight of the man lifted from his chest, and a beat later, he heard a crash as an armored man slammed into the ground. As the preteen machine scrambled to his feet, he looked up to see Whirda next to him.

He knew she had murdered an unknown number of people in her past life, and she had even gone so far as to chide him for his conscious decision to avoid the taking of lives. As he looked up at her now, he saw her for the first time as something much worse—a killer. How long had it been since she was just a sick woman turned away from Darkshire? The scariest thought that entered the boy’s mind was wondering whether or not the infection that coursed through her tainted veins had made her more violent or simply tapped into a repressed darkness.

Would she kill him over whatever lay upon the obelisk?

“Pull yourself together, Blues,” Whirda rasped as she turned to where Alain and Dio had Atelos on the defensive. “They’re all dangerous.” With that, the woman sprinted into the fray.

“Just like you,” Proto Man whispered--a sad, broken tone as the Proto Buster started to shimmer and shake. In a fight like this, it was impossible to guard all your flanks all the time, and the others were about to learn that the hard way. Swinging up his hand cannon, the android aimed at the pair of Dio and Atelos. "Finish Buster!"

OOC - Proto Man fires Finish Buster (Tier 1 Super Move) at Dio and Atelos (-2 SP)

[Atelos]

Hades had his shield up, protecting himself from the onslaught of the newfound alliance that had wanted the God of Death dead. The pressures of the numerous blows brought him to his knees. This wouldn’t be a problem in his original body...but now he was limited to Atelos’ body...his weak, mortal body. For the first time in his eternal life, his muscles ached and screamed at him, despite his need to keep on fighting. He frowned, this wasn’t as easy as he thought.

"Finish Buster!"

Hades’s head jolted towards the voice as he saw Blues’ arm charging a giant yellow beam of energy pointed directly at him. May you suffer in Tartarus, boy. He forced himself to get off his knee and with all of his might he used his shield that has been fending off his attackers to push them off. Hades quickly turned and planted his shield on the ground ready to tank the incoming blow from the young robot.

He focused his energy upon the shield, he dug deep inside himself for something...anything to help him not die at this very moment. Relief. It felt as if a secret storage of power was unlocked as at the last second a white mist began to corrupt the shield. He pressed his body against the shield as a yellow beam of light enveloped the God. His helmet began to singe and the force of the blow almost made the man topple over. He grit his teeth in hope that it would be enough.

It was. The beam of powerful energy had passed and Hades was able to play again with the others. He glanced to the side for a second and saw Dio lay on the ground groaning his chest singing from the large blast that the boy had done. The God stood up triumphant in his defiance to the two new opponents he had to face. The pair showing a second of shock that the God had escaped that blow without so much as a scratch. Well...if they could tell the difference of the injuries from the beast or the robot.

Three knives appeared in the woman’s hand as she stepped in front of Blues before seeing the Spartan's sent flying towards her. A sour frown appeared on her face as she disappeared, reappearing away from the path of the shield. A smirk grew as she readied her three knives, thinking she outsmarted the Spartan. However, out of the corner of her eye she saw the shield change its course and she couldn’t help but curse underneath her breath as the shield made contact with her head.

Hades' eyes darted to the boy that he had wanted originally wanted to spare. A smirk came on his face as he tapped into that well of power again and he felt the mist flow through his veins and fog up the Spartan’s eyes. The God clenched his fist, enjoying the feeling of his old powers coming back. The God's staff appeared before his eyes and he grabbed it, anticipating the power of his weapon. He looked towards Blues, who was reading another blast to hopefully stop the God of Death.

“Oh I’m going to enjoy this."

Hades let out a laugh as he bursted with immense speed towards the small boy. Each burst causing him to find a new well of energy. Unfortunately for him, his god-like strength didn’t provide him god-like stamina. He was in front of the boy now, sweat dripping of his brow as the boy, startled at the sudden appearance at the supposedly big, and clumsy spartan. The boy’s canon charged up as he tried to gain some distance.

Hades swung his staff, the skull hitting the robot’s arm causing it to fall to his side, the green spirits that hung around the skull screaming in terror. Blues tried to raise his arm up but was alarmed to see that it was limp. He raised his head in panic just in time to see the Skull of the the staff staring him dead in the eyes. The green souls around it began to swirl around the skull and flow into it’s eyes before glowing a dull, green hue. The small robot appeared to began to doze off, but Hades knew what was going on in the Robot’s mind.

The skull began to die down as Hades was begrudgingly brought to his knees, sweating. Making the robot suffer this much was exhausting as he struggled to keep his arm up. He could almost feel the robot's will give in.

Cold metal pierced Hades and he looked down, a large sword was now in his stomach. He turned his head to see Alain, grinning maliciously.

“You aren't so tough without that shield.”

Used Hades Reinforcement and 1 Post of Hades Force SP 0/3

[PepsiWhirda]

Whirda hit the ground before she could process the Spartan’s blow, light exploding in front of her eyes like fireworks. Through sheer warrior’s instinct, she used her momentum to twist into a backward somersault, regaining her feet. Blood poured into her eyes from a fresh gash in her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of one hand and spat.

The all-too-familiar feeling of the contagion coursed through her, replacing pain and exhaustion with cold fury. Her veins flooded black, just like before, but this felt different. This felt good. For the first time, Whirda didn’t fight it; she let the contagion take hold.

Her vision darkened. Shreds of shadow swirled around her, torn from the air like cotton. Almost quicker than her mind could comprehend, she scanned the battlefield and came to a conclusion, the plan forming automatically.

The Spartan fell to his knees, the tip of the mercenary’s sword emerging from his back with a spray of red. Dio Brando struggled to stand, saliva and foam dripping from his snarling lips, his shirt torn open and his chest charred and smoking. Blues stood in a catatonic stupor.

“Sorry, kid,” she murmured, drawing all she could from the thrumming lines of power in the air around her.
The maelstrom formed between the bedraggled Primes, fierce winds whipping their torn clothes. It grew in size and intensity, black clouds forming above. Skeins of electricity rippled along their swollen underbelly, the air crackling with heat. The shreds of shadow gravitated to the storm, forming an opaque barrier. One by one, the four warriors were claimed like rag-dolls.

Alain tried to burst from the maelstrom’s grasp, his head and torso emerging, his face twisted in consternation. The feat almost seemed possible until the Spartan’s discarded shield slammed into his back. The red mercenary went limp, and the storm claimed him once more. Whirda caught sight of him a moment later as he collided with Blues, the crunch audible over the howling winds.

Not content to watch the Primes hurled to and fro, Whirda focused on creating a clone. To her surprise, the shadow around her coalesced into not one clone, but three, each identical, each wearing the same mask of indifference. Shaking her head bemusedly, she issued them a simple command and they reacted at once, sprinting forward and hurling themselves into the umbral maelstrom. Whirda wiped the fresh sheet of blood from her brow and followed suit.

The winds caught her and twisted her upside down. She conjured gust after gust of stabilizing wind, managing to right herself as she progressed toward the eye of the storm. Dio whipped past an inch in front of her face, roaring incomprehensibly, and his trailing knee struck her back, wrenching her sideways with a groan. Fresh pain blossomed from the wounds inflicted by the tarrasque’s fangs.

Another gust of wind brought her above the contorted bodies of Atelos and Alain before she spotted Blues, his expression still dreamy despite the chaos around him. Dio came around again, somehow managing to spot her and open his arms wide in an attempt to crush her in his grasp. One of Whirda’s clones came up swiftly behind him, upside down and hysterically still indifferent to the proceedings.

Granted incredible speed by the sickness raging within her, Whirda flipped her dagger into an icepick grip. She teleported once, appearing atop Dio’s back. The Prime twisted, trying to grasp her, but Whirda was quicker. The pommel of her dagger struck at the base of Dio’s neck and the pompous warrior slumped.

Whirda made contact with her clones, providing a second, familiar command. Detonate. Her next teleport brought her to Blues’s side, her companion regarding her with a befuddled frown. After a moment’s concentration she felt a link form between them, an invisible tether of shadow stretched taut and waiting.

When she teleported again, the preteen machine travelled with her, the pair appearing outside the clutches of the savage maelstrom just as the thunderous boom of the clones detonating echoed throughout the peculiar verse.

Blues fell to his knees, smoke pouring from a half-dozen holes in his armor. It occurred to Whirda that killing him would be simple. In the back of her mind, she desired it. She recalled Ahn’Thrix’s words: “Once the shadow is inside you, it ceases to be a choice. It is an addiction. One from which you can never hope for freedom—from which you won't even want to be free.”

The thought faded along with the contagion’s hold. No longer able to sustain the maelstrom, the winds died down. Dio, Atelos, and Alain hit the ground as the storm cleared, now bound by dozens of wriggling shadow serpents, each struggling to break free.

“Finish them, kid,” Whirda pleaded as the exhaustion took her.

Used one round of Shadow Form and Umbral Maelstrom, SP 0/3.

[Alain the Carnedge]

Ignoring his annoyance at the situation, Alain tried to rip the shadow serpents off his body. But he was pinned. There was nothing he could do other than struggle helplessly against the horde, if he didn't use magic. So use magic he did. His left arm glowed a deep black, as did the ground around him. Dark flames rose from the abyss, and started to burn away the serpents. The others struggled harder now that they were being very slowly burned to death, but the mercenary kept still and let the flames do their work.

Scrambling to his feet once he was actually able to move, the mercenary tore the remaining serpents off of him, then took the moment to look around and try to spot the best target. The bloodsucker and Atelos were pinned by the serpents, and though the flames were weaker, the serpents binding them would burn away far faster than their life force would. Nothing like the smell of burning spartans and vampires in the morning. That left the woman and robokid, who were incapacitated and apparently getting over their staring into space problem, respectively.

He determined that the allied duo were the bigger threat than the spartan. Robokid was the only member other than himself that wasn't out of action, and he was also the only one without a debilitating wound he knew about. So, not that confident he was making the right decision, the mercenary sprinted at the bot, and regretted it immediately. Not because there was an angry robot firing laser blasts at him, as that wasn't occurring due to them being more concerned about their friend for the moment. On the contrary, it was because he felt like he had to throw up. He didn't know if it was because he was flung around by the maelstrom, if the party food from yesterday was starting to bite him in the ass, or otherwise but he did his best to ignore it regardless.

The robot looked up from checking on Whirda to meet Alain running at them and swinging his sword overhead. They rolled away and started to charge a shot, but the mercenary recovered from his swing and jumped to the side to dodge the blast of energy. No time for witty banter, apparently. Deciding it was best to engage in melee combat, a blade made of energy formed from the machine's cannon. The mercenary took a brief moment to admire the versatility of that weapon before rushing the robot, red steel clashing against energy.

Pressing the attack, Alain did not in fact do the stupid thing which would be standing there clashing blades, instead kicking robokid in the shin. They staggered for a second, disengaging the so-called blade lock, but got over it more than quickly enough to dodge the follow-up stab.The mercenary scowled, but kept up the pressure. He ran closer and slashed wildly, which admittedly wasn't the best of ideas, but robokid wasn't quite quick enough to dodge a blade longer than he was tall (not many people are), so despite his attempts to dodge, Alain's blade connected and cut through their stomach, spilling blood.

This made it a lot more obvious that defense wasn't the right way to go for the machine. Their wounds were barely a bother, since they were well, a robot, and they instead tried to get the mercenary to stop his onslaught, rushing forward and barely ducking under another incoming swing from the crimson blade as he tried to attack with his own sword. Unfortunately, Alain was both faster and more skilled than the machine, so dodging the incoming attacks wasn't as difficult as you'd expect. Though skill doesn't give eyes on the back of your head, so he didn't see the shield flying into the back of his skull coming. Again.

The mercenary crumpled, hitting the ground with a splitting headache, the shield clattering to the ground beside him. He could feel the blood running down the back of his head, and got the distinct impression that he might have got a concussion. Headbutting people probably didn't help with that. He did his best not to pass out, but the best choice for now was to stay down. Hopefully the personality crisis spartan would distract robokid long enough for him to construct a new plan.

And they did. Presumably spouting taunts that the mercenary couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears, the shield-throwing jackass picked up his frisbee and advanced towards the machine, as it appeared that they were the only two left standing.The black sigils spread along the mercenary's cloak, and he went back to the shadows to take a quick breather, and to determine who should be dealt with first.

This wasn't over. Not yet.

[Proto Man]

Proto Man wheezed even though he had no lungs. The nimble mercenary’s assault had left him with a few new gashes across the organic layer but none of the swipes had gone deep enough to compromise the ceramic titanium skeleton that housed his vital processes. A glance revealed that the mercenary had slipped into a form of stealth, but the machine couldn’t dwell on the man’s efforts to conceal himself with a hulking man in armor stalking toward him.

“Out of my way.” Atelos demanded as his ethereal swords reformed around his already imposing figure. “I will not ask you a third time. ”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Proto Man muttered as he held up his left hand. “I’ve seen the best that you can do, and let me tell you… I ain’t impressed!” In a crackle of light, the Proto Sword erupted from the barrel of his previously idle hand cannon, and without skipping a beat, the preteen machine dashed forward to meet the Spartan in melee. With a grunt, Proto Man swung his energy sword only to have it met by one of the three ethereal blades.

Unfortunately for the Spartan, one sword wasn’t going to cut it, and in a matter of seconds, he had to throw the other two against his opponent’s weapon or face losing their standoff. Even so, it became painfully obvious to the man-sized warrior that he couldn’t overpower the child who stood between him and his prize. With that in mind, he took a page from Alain’s book and swung his shield down at Proto Man’s oversized shin.

Rather than dodge the blast, Proto Man threw up his unoccupied hand and released a concentrated blast of Atomic Fire at Atelos’ chest and face. Almost instantly, the free-floating swords fizzled away as the Spartan roared in pain, his body tormented by the very real flames that now danced across his battered, war-weary features. Before Proto Man could press the advantage and remove the warrior from the equation, he felt a pair of pale hands wrap around his throat.

“Last chance,” Dio whispered even as he tightened his grip. “We can split the prize and take out Dracula together… don’t you see?” The response that the pallid man received was the helmeted skull of the android slamming back into his jaw. As Dio Brando stumbled away from the child he sought to manipulate, Proto Man spun around and glared up at his opponent.

“One of my good friends was a Snake... And he was a much better liar than you are.”

Proto Man threw back his head as his body vanished beneath a flash of white light, blinding everyone who was still conscious. When the flare faded, Dio found himself staring at an older and more muscled version of the kid robot. Gone were the soft, rounded corners and the softness of youth, and in their place, the android’s features were sharp, harsh, and almost too muscled. The smirk beneath the visor conveyed a fresh and almost smug confidence as Proto Man clenched his fists and dashed forward to meet his adversary.

Unimpressed with the machine’s transformation, Dio flashed his teeth and moved to intercept his foe.

For the first time in a long time, sheer bravado failed Dio Brando.

His clawed hands moved to rake apart the cheek and jaw of his robotic foe, but Proto Man slipped away at the last moment and brought his knee up into the man’s gut. Dio let out a scream as he was bent over the robot’s armored knee. Before he could adjust his strategy, an elbow slammed into his skull. There was a momentary flash of stars before the man slumped into unconsciousness. With a frown, Proto Man shoved his would-be killer to the ground and turned to see that the Spartan, ever resilient, had risen back to his feet.

“Puberty won’t save you.” Atelos rasped as he started toward his opponent. First- and second-degree burns dotted the exposed parts of the man’s body, and the chest plate he wore for protection had been warped and deformed by the fire. Yet despite having the appearance of someone who had walked through the fires of hell, Atelos still bared his teeth and walked like a man possessed.

“No more games,” Proto Man muttered as he sprung forward and threw a fist at the Spartan. Like clockwork, Atelos effortlessly maneuvered his shield to absorb the blow, but unlike every previous time, the shield did little to cushion the blow. A horrifying thud resonated through the otherwise still air as the bronze bulwark buckled beneath the impact, allowing enough force from the blow to transfer through and stagger the Spartan.

A sturdy kick to the stunned man sent him sailing backwards.

Using Overclock (Tier 2 Transformation) for two posts (this one and the next one) -> -4 SP

[Atelos]

The strong kick forced all the air of Hades lungs as he was flung across the room from the Robot’s mighty kick. He lay there coughing, panting, desperately swallowing air in a frantic attempt to fill his lungs back up. It took an eternity to get back up onto his knee let alone to his feet. Something warm trickled down his lip and his hand darted up to meet it. Blood. The God himself, felt anger for the first time as his vessel was forced to bleed by this...thing. His brow furrowed as he looked at the dent in his shield and raised it up, the heavy brass draining the strength in his arm.

“Come on child! Is that all you got? The God hit his shield in an attempt to anger the boy, which was received by the same glare of determination that the boy had before. The boy's face was unsettling. Hades bared his teeth at the boy with a devilish grin, trying to maintain that look of crazy maliciousness while he was in pain.

The boy came running at Hades, his energy sword out and the other hand with his blaster. Hades saw the boy coming and charge directly at the boy and as the Robot began to bring back his sword for another slash, the God smashed his shield directly in the Robot’s face. He brought his shield back from the blow to see the Robot stumbling back, the robot’s nose and sunglasses broken, leaving a trail of blood down to the Blues chin. Hades grinned, finally he drew blood against the unstoppable machine.

Blues head bolted back with a look of fury as he wiped his bloody nose before walking towards Hades. His sword came up and swiped down at Hades and Hades trusted his shield to protect him once again. He used up his energy to raise his shield and he felt the initial impact of the sword upon his shield-

His shield was split wide open by the sword, the bronze and leather sliced like butter and a warm knife. The blade followed through the entire way and sliced through Hades’ arm as well. Both the flesh and the separated piece of metal split to the ground as Hades winced in pain to his severed limb.

A black bubbling liquid began to spurt in the place of blood and Hades struggled to back away from the menacing robot that had just torn the Spartan’s best equipment in half. Sweat was forming on his eyebrow as he attempted to summon his three swords, but much to his dismay, it failed horribly and brought him to his knee. A disappointed scowl appeared on his face as he worried about losing the precious artefact that laid in front of the crowd. He felt slightly dizzy from the blood loss from his new stub and the gaping wound in his stomach.

“Give up Atelos, I just disarmed you.” Blues couldn’t help but leave a smirk on his face

Hades growled through his teeth at the Robot. “You shall pay for this boy. The treasure is mine!”

All of a sudden, Alain stepped through his cloak and revealed himself to the group as well as Whirda teleporting from the shadows.

“Don’t think this is over yet.” The mercenary's face showed his confidence and Whirda muttered something to the Robot before Hades let out a piercing roar from the group forcing their eyes upon the broken god.

“How can warriors like you defeat a GOD. Even trapped in this mortal shell I should have more power than all of you combined. How dare you think that you can beat me!” He gnarled his teeth at the group before wincing as he forced the three swords to come to life.

They could not kill him. He was death.

[PepsiWhirda]

At that moment, as the god-thing Atelos succumbed to the onslaught only his own hubris could have brought down upon him, Whirda knew the fight was over.

The war the contagion had waged on her body left her knees trembling and a sheen of sweat on her skin. The pain from the gouges in her back blossomed anew, hot and bright. Blues seemed no better off, his armor pouring smoke, dented and torn in a dozen places.

The red mercenary’s gaze darted between them, searching for a way to regain the upper hand, but with his only ally, the titan Dio Brando, still bound by wriggling shadow serpents and offering no resistance, he found himself outnumbered for the first time since their hunt for the tarrasque began. Mighty in his own right, he nevertheless recognized the futility of the situation. He backed away, his cloak shimmering as he activated his stealth.

Blues, stubborn as ever, limped forward, his arm cannon humming to life.

Whirda placed a hand on his chest. “Let him go. We got what we wanted.”

Alain winked as his stealth activated. “Until we meet again,” he said, before he disappeared. Blues followed him with his faze, ensuring the mercenary made no move to grab the artefact, but Whirda knew the pragmatic Alain was no fool. To escape with his life was prize enough.

“Check the Spartan,” Whirda said. “I’ll take care of Dio.”

She approached the fallen Prime and knelt at his side. For all his slimy charisma, even his best-laid plans had crumbled around him. Like the Spartan, his own hubris had been his undoing. Whirda had learned that lesson long ago, when she watched her mother’s eyes close for the last time.

“The pride of the fallen,” Whirda murmured. “What was it worth in the end?”

Dio stirred at her words, twisting his neck toward her with a growl of pain. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but he cracked the other open, the sclera flooded with blood, all the pent up rage and violence he couldn’t satisfy with his body present in his stare. He tried to speak, but only a low gurgle emerged.

“The world has enough Dio Brandos,” Whirda said, placing the tip of her dagger against his neck.

Dio’s expression changed then, his eye imploring as if to beg for his life, all traces of his savage hunger for victory gone. The dagger slid into his throat, flecks of blood spraying across Whirda’s face. The mighty Dio Brando jerked once, and then went rigid. His eye stared through her, toward whatever might come next in the twisted laboratory known as the Omniverse.

Whirda stood, wiping the Prime’s blood from her cheek.

“This one’s still alive,” Blues said, shifting to face her. He crouched beside the fallen Spartan, who finally lay still. The preteen machine’s next question held a trace of fear. “Are you going to kill him too?”

Whirda’s stomach lurched as the truth of the situation hit her. The power she wielded, the power the contagion offered… she had spent years disabusing herself of the notion of such power. In Faerûn, during her time as a bounty hunter in the Spine of the World, power was a foreign concept. The core concepts of her being had been survival, the protection of innocents, the cold asceticism of penitent isolation. What would her mother say if she could see her now?

She shook her head. “Let him live,” she said, with a profoundly weary sigh. “I’ve had my fill of killing for today.”

Blues nodded, walking up beside her, his attention on the orb of Omnilium that had caused all this carnage in the first place. Whirda could hear the faint hum of his arm cannon, still primed. The implication was clear. Blues had seen enough. He no longer trusted her.

With a shiver that rushed down her spine and curled her toes with discomfort, Whirda realized she no longer trusted herself.

“Whatever it is,” Blues said, “it’s yours. I desire no reward for what we’ve done today. It’s long past time I said goodbye to this place.”

“Scylla’s still out there,” Whirda said. “The tarrasque may be eliminated, but the threat of the archdemon remains.” The power of the contagion was foul, but Whirda was sure she could handle its corruption, at least long enough to cure the blight and fulfill her promise to Tyrande and the elves. So much had changed, so much had occurred since her visit to the World Tree, but all it had done was bring her purpose into focus. If bearing the burden of the contagion allowed her to liberate the Tangled Green— if it allowed her to introduce a shred of hope into Omni’s maniacal game—she would continue along her path.

“How do we find her?” Blues asked. “The drow are gone. We don’t even know where we are. What’s to say she hasn’t retreated already?”

Whirda bared her teeth in a humorless laugh. “When’s the last time anything in this gods-damned realm has simply retreated? No, she will return. She will find a new weapon, a new tarrasque, a new army. And when she surfaces, we have to be ready.”

She approached the swirling orb, her gut coiled tight with apprehension. It occurred to her briefly that the omnilium only represented further power—that she was playing right into the mysterious deity’s hands the moment she claimed it, but she dismissed the notion. It was a necessary risk. It was the only way she could complete her quest and hope to restore a measure of sanity to her life.

It was the only way she could go home.

The orb reacted immediately as Whirda placed her hands upon it. She felt a tugging sensation near her navel, and the world around her flooded with light and color, a fierce roaring filling her ears. Blues, Atelos, Dio Brando, everything was swept away. In the back of her mind, she heard a clear message in a familiar, mellifluous voice, quaking with mirth.

The time of Whirda Windstrom has come.