Aetheral Space

Forgiveness Irons could feel it. The ecstasy of creeping truth.

Most people did not understand it. Most people cowered, begged for their lives, for their children's lives -- but no, no, that was not the way. What they did not understand was that their lives had not begun. Their children's lives had not begun. All of them were trapped, suspended, in the seductive lie of meaning -- like flies in dancing amber. They were not people.

They were meat.

All around, Forgiveness Irons could feel it. He could smell its stink in the air. He could feel its skin in the soil. When he moved, he did so pushing through its thick and tense muscle tissue. God was a vile and omnipresent thing.

The Great Pig.

Forgiveness Irons had known about it for a long time. He was the only witness, the anti-prophet that revered and disparaged it… but did not slay it, never slay it, for that was the feeling of a fool. A God was the skeleton of his dominion. The Great Pig could not be slain -- only sliced, maimed, tortured, revealed to the world. It was for that purpose that Forgiveness Irons wielded his scissors.

Where his scissors cut, the truth was revealed -- the truth of divine blood and pus, spreading out, showing the people what they had missed with their lazy eyes. They protested, but Forgiveness Irons knew they just did not understand his gift. Their screams were of gratitude. Their moans were of catharsis. Tears of joy and gnashing teeth.

This swordsman was the same.

Forgiveness Irons shuddered and moaned as the blade of light sliced into him, parting meat and leaving a burning trail in its wake. The wound did not take. New flesh crawled into the gap, pouring into it like a mould, new eyes and teeth solidifying in seconds, granting Irons sweet reprieve.

He was growing used to this young man's speed. It was not something he could react to, but he could anticipate it. If he simply moved his scissors with care, he could block these strikes. He would make sure to do so for the fatal ones.

But these blows that were designed to wound, to pain, to debilitate… these were proof of hatred, proof that this young man had looked at Forgiveness Irons and found something to respond to in his eyes. He could not insult the young man's odium by deigning to dodge or block them. They were gentle kisses on a summer morning.

Still… they were an impediment. A man on a stroll does not hate a rock, but he does walk around it. The same is true for bleeding human beings.

Forgiveness Irons smiled.

"Open Wound."

The floor opened beneath Atoy Muzazi with a wet ripping sound.

Instincts honed by countless life-or-death scenarios served him well. Thrusters blazed into life across his body, keeping him aloft like something out of a cartoon videograph -- even as the floor peeled into a bloody maw beneath him. The relief was short-lived.

One tongue, two tongues, three tongues, four. The building beneath Muzazi had already ceased to be architecture and shifted into malevolent biology. The pink tendrils wrapped themselves around Muzazi's limbs, lightning-fast, and pulled him down.

He was swallowed.

The stink of it.

The sound of it.

The sight of it.

Oh, Y…

It took everything Atoy Muzazi had not to vomit as he was pulled into the belly of the world.

The space beneath the atrium's floor had become a twitching landscape of fresh-grown flesh. Undulating tubers gurgled, mingling pus dribbling from their seams. Purposeless teeth and jaws creaked and stretched, the entire interconnected space contracting and expanding around them like they were the center-strings of a spider's web. Muzazi ignited a fresh Radiant from his hand -- but a tidal wave of stomach acid quickly smothered it.

Muzazi squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw tight. He could feel it -- he could feel the acid clawing at his skin. If not for his infusion, he had no doubt he'd already have been devoured entirely. The tongues that had been gripping him had melted away themselves, reduced to fine pink slurries by the burning bath.

This was a world that ate itself. This was the world as Forgiveness Irons saw it. A Great Pig, eating and eating and never growing full.

Radiant Almighty!

The attack was part of no strategy. It was simply wild animal instinct, the drive to strike at this horrendous thing with the strongest blow he could muster. Without his pillars, without his thrusters, it was nowhere near enough. Atoy Muzazi's light amounted to no more than a brief flare, quickly swallowed up by the encroaching meat.

Radiant Almighty!

Radiant Almighty!

Radiant Almighty!

Blinded, floating, drowning, melting. Atoy Muzazi struck again and again, not even knowing where he was aiming, as if he could somehow strike the hopelessness of the situation directly and break free that way. By the third swing, the light of his Radiant was barely even visible through his eyelids. By the fourth, it was nothing but black.

Radiant Almighty!

Radiant Almighty!

Radiant Almighty!

Useless swings, useless resistance, and yet -- again, again, again.

It was funny. It wasn't so long ago that Atoy Muzazi had put a gun to his head, back at that hotel on Azum-Ha. It wasn't so long ago that the value of his own life had started to slip between his fingers like sand. And yet, here -- in this awful place -- one thought accompanied his wild swings.

Radiant Almighty!

Not like this.

Radiant Almighty!

Not like this!

Radiant Almighty!

NOT LIKE THIS!

Even as he swung empty air at empty flesh, even as he sank deeper and deeper into the pit of flesh, a newfound will to live blazed inside Atoy Muzazi's chest. That was the final cruelty. At the very moment his resolve finally returned, the vilest end was already prepared for it.

Acid ran over Atoy Muzazi's face.

Not like this!

Tendrils wrapped around Atoy Muzazi's body.

Not like this…

Death pulled Atoy Muzazi downwards.

Not… like this… please…

And…

Tiny Garden!

…a miracle occurred.

In a split second, the burning darkness around Atoy Muzazi was replaced by blazing light and mercifully cool air. His body thumped down on a solid surface -- and as he gingerly opened his eyes, retching on all fours, Muzazi could see he was in the atrium once more. The Great Pig had spat him right out.

Forgiveness Irons hadn't moved at all since Muzazi had been swallowed. He rubbed his undulating neck with a tumour-farming hand, intrigued.

"Illness. Illness for illness, by the hand of a good samaritan. But to only wave that hand at the moment of crisis, does that not make you a torturer yourself? Were you too engorged? Or perhaps cowardice lives inside your brain."

Muzazi wheezed as he slowly picked himself up, Radiants already igniting from his hands once more. Squinting as the leftover acid stung at his eyes, he followed the direction of Forgiveness Irons' concealed gaze. What he found there, he hadn't expected.

Rico, the medic. He was standing beside the fountain, his hand raised, Aether buzzing around it. His face was pale, slick with sweat, as if he'd just emerged from that hell himself.

"You're an Aether-user?" Muzazi asked, voice low, as he sidled up to Rico -- Radiant still pointed square at Irons. "I didn't realize."

"And I didn't advertise," Rico grunted. "Doesn't seem like there's much of a choice anymore, though."

"What did you do?" Muzazi asked.

Rico shrugged with one shoulder. "Some random bullshit," he muttered. "But it looks like whatever he's turning this place into didn't like it. My ability's especially good at messing with living things."

Tap tap tap.

"I'll be counting on your support, then," Muzazi nodded.

Rico nodded back.

Tap tap tap.

"To talk as if I am not here," Forgiveness Irons sighed theatrically. "Disaster and foul intent. Mmm, no no no, that's no good. You are two and I am one, I realize this, but together we are three, and should we not treat each other as such?" He took a step forward, twisted foot thumping against the floor. "Treat others as you would like to be treated, or… haha… you may become a treat yourself and…"

Tap tap tap!

Forgiveness Irons looked up, interrupted.

"What is that?!" he grumbled.

Tap tap tap!

Rico looked up.

Tap tap tap!

Muzazi looked up.

Tap tap tap!

The noise was coming from the reinforced skylight, a shadow resting upon it as the sunlight bled through. They were bringing their fist down on the sturdy glass, again and again and again, seemingly undeterred by their lack of success so far. Muzazi squinted, infusing his eyes.

"Is that…?"

TAP!

TAP!

TAP!

BANG

Glass rained down, shattered by a final violet hammer of a fist, and accompanied by the destruction came the sound of celebration.

"Wahoo!" cried Serena del Sed as she fell with the sunlight. "We made it through!"

Tom Foolery was restricted.

With his left arm, he held Zephyr Pandershi captive. With his right arm, he carried his goddaughter, Pollyanna Botfly. It was important to keep his balance steady and move around quickly -- he managed most of that with his right leg. That left him with just his left leg to take on Nebula Four, Titan White.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

It was just about an even fight.

Killing Arts: Body Imaging.

Tom Foolery swung his leg again and again as the two of them danced through the collapsing hallway -- and each time the limb erupted into Aether-infused ice right before it made contact with White's attack, parrying the myriad blows. Spears, swords, daggers… White's Aether ability seemed to utilize solid-light holograms, creating constructs from his imagination. Nebula Four's fairy wings were the same -- simple fluttering constructs to keep him aloft.

If there was any saving grace, it was the fact that the constructs seemed fairly fragile -- but they were recreated so quickly that it was difficult for Tom to take advantage of that fact.

And besides… he had a fly buzzing in his ear.

"Come now," Zephyr chuckled, even as he was pulled this way and that by the battle, his hands still bound by Neverwire. "You must realize how bad of a situation this is for you, Tom Foolery. The Seat of Man is under attack right now -- I know you've seen that light show outside. The entire complex is a pit of chaos. Should capturing me, an unrelated observer, really be your top priority right now?"

His gaze flicked down to Tom's slain Scurrant comrade, sliced in twain by White just a few moments ago.

"Should you persist in this course of action, it's very likely that dear Miss Botfly will suffer a similar fate to this gentleman," Zephyr smirked. "Don't mistake this for posturing, though, Mr. Foolery. Even if I were on your side, I'd say the exact same thing."

As Zephyr went on and on, Titan White dashed forward and then back -- flying up into the air and conjuring a massive harpoon in his hands.

Tom's eyes flicked down. Just as he'd suspected -- orange chains had appeared around his ankles, binding him in place. Now all of his limbs were restricted. This was Titan White's final play. Nebula Four wanted to keep Tom still for a moment -- and then annihilate all of them in one attack.

Yes… it was just as he'd suspected.

Aether crawled across Tom Foolery's arms and -- with resolve in his eyes -- he tossed his two burdens up into the air. For a second, his hands would be free… and a second was all he needed.

Killing Arts: Nitrogen Palm!

Twin handprints the size of cars shattered the incoming spear -- and an instant later, the air around them combusted, shrouding the walkway in flame. An Aether-infused swipe of Tom's hand banished the inferno, just in time for him to catch Pandershi and Pollyanna on their way back down.

Pollyanna blinked, still dazed by the sudden flight. "Thanks… gworp…" she mumbled.

Tom nodded, his gaze still fixed on the floating Titan White. Nebula Four was still looking down at him, eyes impassive, not truly looking bothered by the fact that his attack had failed. A slow smile spread across Tom's lips.

"Oh, what are you smirking at, you idiot?" Pandershi sneered up at him, still bound tight. "You barely managed to avoid his attack just now -- and there's nothing to stop him just doing it again and again. I'll say it again: with everything going on right now, is this really the best use of your --"

"Shut up," said Tom Foolery.

Pandershi narrowed his eyes slowly. "What?" he hissed.

"You made a mistake," Tom said calmly, carefully putting Pollyanna down to free up a hand. "So… shut up."

Pandershi widened his eyes. "I --"

He never finished his sentence, though, because Tom Foolery lashed out with a fist and punched his face in. Pandershi's corpse slumped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, its skull basically a bloody crater. Pollyanna stepped back, clapping her hands over her mouth in shock.

Tom didn't spare the body a second glance. Instead, he just looked right back up at Titan White again.

"Okay," Nebula Three said. "You can start talking again… Zephyr Pandershi."

For a good long moment, Titan White just kept staring down at Tom…

…and then he clicked his tongue.

"How long have you known?" White asked. His voice was different, but the arrogant cadence to his speech was unmistakable… these were Pandershi's words coming out of a new mouth.

"I only became sure a second ago," Tom Foolery replied. "That last attack would have taken him --" He thumped the corpse with a foot. "-- out as well. A guy like that -- a guy like you -- should have been outraged, but he didn't even blink. You've been messing with the Panacea, haven't you? This isn't a rescue mission. It's a pantomime. You're one mind in two bodies."

As Pollyanna gaped up at him, Titan White -- or rather, the body of Zephyr Pandershi called Titan White -- brought his hands together and began to slowly clap.

"Bravo," he chuckled, settling back fully into his relaxed and condescending persona. "You've truly surprised me, Tom Foolery. I didn't think a man like you would be able to grasp my true nature so quickly. The world's a far more exciting place when it surprises me like this."

"How long?" Tom glared.

Pandershi raised his eyebrows. "How long?"

"You invented that anti-aging surgery," Tom grunted. "That creepy shit that doesn't reach your hands. You're not the kind of person who'd invent something that wouldn't benefit you directly. So, you needed it at the time. So, you haven't always been able to hop bodies like this. I'm betting it's relatively recent. Last two years? After you acquired the planet Panacea, anyway."

The clapping resumed with newfound gusto.

"Bravo, oh, bravo!" Pandershi laughed, orange wings fluttering behind him. "You're not Nebula Three for nothing! Oh, but there's one little mistake you made, my friend."

Pandershi raised one finger, his grin settling into something far darker and more victorious.

"You said one mind in two bodies?"

"I've been figured out," sighed an unfamiliar voice dramatically.

Aclima immediately pulled her sword out from behind her back, pointing it towards the darkness from where the sound had originated. Before she could charge off towards the other side of the security centre, though, Noel shot her a glance and quietly shook her head.

"Don't bother," she muttered -- before lifting her gaze to face the approaching figure. "I'm guessing that's you, then, Pandershi."

A young woman with grey-and-orange hair strode out of the shadows, her arms spread wide as if to welcome applause. When she opened her eyes, Aclima saw that they were indeed the same brilliant amber as Zephyr Pandershi's… and that quirk to her lips was exactly the same as his infuriating smirk.

Aclima furrowed her brow in confusion. "Pandershi? But isn't he --"

"He's got a bunch of bodies that he controls at once," Noel explained, eyes fixed on Pandershi. "Think of them like the fingers on a hand."

"I'd rather you didn't," the woman who was apparently Pandershi snapped. "That implies a limit of five -- or four, depending on your school of thought."

Aclima just stared, dumbfounded. If anything, that just seemed to stoke Pandershi's ego further. She threw her hair back and smirked down at the girl.

"Can't look away? Don't be embarrassed, that's by design. I engineer my bodies with form and function in mind. Handsome, beautiful, adorable, distinguished. I've achieved the utmost in every category."

"Engineered…?" Aclima muttered, her eyes widening as Pandershi took a seat. "What, like genetically engineered? Like a Gene Tyrant?!"

Pandershi scoffed, waving a hand. "Please don't compare me to some petty Gene Tyrant, little girl. My ambitions reach far beyond that -- and those ambitions, for the time being, are between me and your boss, so don't even bother asking, m'kay?" Her gaze slid over to Noel. "Are you done linking up to the Sheshanaga?"

Noel glanced up from her monitor. "It's taking longer than expected."

"I'd have long since finished this task already," Pandershi raised an unamused eyebrow. "Were my attention not so split, I could have just done it for you. Besides, I'm told you broke into the Sheshanaga once already after the death of the last Supreme. Have your skills really deteriorated so much?"

Noel looked like she was about to snap something back, but bit her tongue and swallowed her words. Instead, she spoke calmly -- if a little strained.

"They've upgraded the security since two years ago, because of our break-in," she said evenly. "But it's fine. Ten, fifteen minutes… and we'll be in."

She looked up, blue eyes glaring at amber.

"We'll have full control," she said with certainty.

The streets of Serendipity surrounding the Seat of Man had been thoroughly evacuated, and so Niain enjoyed a peaceful walk as he strolled towards his destination. His black cloak, ragged and torn, trailed behind him -- turning him into an ink-blot on this shadowless path. He'd arrive at Ultraviolet Tower before long, ready to retrieve the next piece of the world's recreation. No doubt he could arrive faster if he moved at full speed.

Still, it's nice to take a leisurely walk, don't you think?

Nian turned a corner… and paused. A smile spread across his lips. Someone was waiting for him.

"Have you come to wish me luck, Zephyr?" he asked.

Zephyr Pandershi, a cherub-faced youth -- maybe eleven or twelve years old -- looked up from a hefty tome. Keen amber eyes looked at Niain from beneath a mop of grey-and-orange hair. It looked like he'd been busy himself -- he was sitting on the shredded corpse of what looked like a giant tortoise, legs crossed.

"I'm keeping an eye on my investment," the boy replied haughtily. "Please don't mistake the sentiment. Ultraviolet Tower is in lockdown -- how do you intend to breach it?"

"Haha, if they've got something that can keep me out, that's an interesting discovery all by itself," Niain said, raising a clenched fist. "Don't worry. I'm confident in my strength. I've yet to find a fortress I can't break open."

"Hm," Pandershi sniffed as Niain stepped up alongside him, the two of them looking at the Tower in the distance.

Tall and thin, like a needle -- the central node of the UAP's intelligence operations. It had produced countless legends in its time. Korlis Climb, the Aquamarines… the sorts of people who could steer the galaxy in the direction they chose. It was just a shame the historic building probably wouldn't be standing in an hour or so.

Niain nodded down to the book in Pandershi's hands. "What are you reading?"

"The personal journals of Helis-Audrey the Harsh," Pandershi smiled faintly as his eyes scanned the pages. "Not easy to acquire -- but given what my other bodies are setting up back home, I thought it best to familiarise myself with our… 'benefactor'."

"And?"

"The Thriceborn Supreme… the Abra-Facadian…" Pandershi closed the book with a shake of his head. "In the end, these pages only show me another boring militarist. Her concept of 'one-man survival of the fittest' is interesting, but it's an anomaly of novelty in the course of her dull life. Still, it's a better read than her daughter's malarkey -- if we go purely off the quality of the prose."

"Haha, that's a shame," Niain said pleasantly. "Personally, I've always felt a strong connection to Helis-Audrey's idea of self-improvement. It reminds me of my childhood."

Pandershi clicked his tongue. "Nostalgia is one of the failure emotions, Niain. I'd advise you not to indulge in it. Right now, my focus is on the future. The Uprising, the Colourless Light, the White Panacea… all of my labours are going to come to fruition very, very soon. I can almost taste it. Ah… I truly am a genius."

"Well," Niain shrugged. "Enjoy the taste of it, I guess, haha. I've got work to do."

He let out a fond sigh -- and continued his walk towards Ultraviolet Tower.

"Don't wait up," he said to Pandershi, waving a hand over his shoulder.

"Don't die," Pandershi called back, tucking his book under his arm. "I still have uses for you."

It was only when Pandershi's figure had long since shrunk in the distance that Smith made himself known, a thin black film swimming alongside Niain's shadow. His voice slithered up from the darkness.

"To trust a man made of mushrooms…" the slime monster worried. "Are you sure that's wise, sir…?"

"Point one: he's not made of mushrooms, haha," Niain said. "At least, not yet. He's just cultivated his own strain of the Panacea organism, had it absorb his consciousness, and now he's inhabiting Panacea-infused bodies using his Aether as a communication medium."

"I see…"

Niain scratched his head. "Okay, that's impressive, but I'm just saying he isn't made of them."

"And point two, my lord…?"

Niain looked down into the depths of his shadow and smiled. "Of course I trust him," he said. "He's my dear friend. And besides…"

His smile darkened.

"...there isn't a person alive who's been able to betray my expectations."

"Wow!" Serena gaped as she brushed the glass from her knees. "Mr. Rico and Mr. Muzazi?! There's a surprise!"

Muzazi's eyes flicked between the new arrival and his target. Unlike Serena, who seemed to be living up to her name, his focus was still mainly on the monster on the other side of the room.

"You two know each other?" he asked, voice low.

Rico looked away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… yeah. A lot happened, I guess."

"I'll say," Serena thumped her chin sagely. "I can't believe you're still missing that arm. Skipper hated Panacea, but even he got a prosthetic! You sure are devoted. I don't know what you're devoted to, but congrats."

"What's the situation?"

There was a flash of purple as Bruno del Sed appeared next to his sister, his humanoid shape composed of countless tiny shields. Their two forms were linked by an Aetheral tendril, shifting from purple to violet as it connected them. Just like Muzazi, Bruno's attention was squarely on the enemy -- although he did spare a glance at Rico behind him.

"What happened to you?" Rico asked, dumbfounded.

"Same story," Bruno grunted. "A lot."

"It's shameful to interrupt a reunion of equals," Forgiveness Irons' trembling voice echoed through the room. "So I suppose I must be a shameful sort. Sweet discovery and chance, to greet us on this reddened day. To think I began this dance of limbs with one partner, made two, made three, made four! A ménage à quatre, in this day and age! What kind of God gives such kindness and devours it in one bite with creeping shame?! A pig, I say!"

He spread his arms as he bellowed, his voice suddenly booming.

"A PIG!"

Serena blinked. "This guy kinda seems like a freak."

"He's strong," Muzazi said -- and, swallowing back his own shame: "Your… assistance would be appreciated, del Seds."

"Aw," Serena reached over and tousled Muzazi's hair, ignoring the pain in his eyes. "If you ask like that, how can we not?"

Bruno lifted a finger -- and a second barrier appeared to supplement the one Muzazi had already created, sealing off the battlefield from the fleeing crowds.

"Okay," he nodded. "Let's do this."

The four of them stood as one as the monster called Forgiveness Irons stalked forward, his cowl of viscera slithering against the floor.

"Indeed," he breathed. "Let's."