Aetheral Space

Death was raining down upon Serendipity.

The five-pointed starship, the Sheshanaga, was opening fire from nearly every inch of its surface. The buildings around it were burning. The ships above it were burning. All the world, burning, burning.

It had been active for several minutes now. Several minutes too long. How many people were losing their lives every second? How many people were losing their hope every second?

No. Not losing. That was far too passive.

Those things were being stolen.

Fei Long thrust his fists forward as he flew through the sky, aiming himself like a missile towards the distant Sheshanaga. He had no plan in his mind. Even for Nebula One, taking on one of the most powerful starships in the galaxy was a big ask. Despite that, the only thing going through his head was one simple thought.

I need to stop this.

How many seconds until he reached Imperator One's engine of destruction? Fifteen, maybe twenty. In the time he still had, he needed to figure out what he could do to disable the Sheshanaga as quickly as possible.

Could he create an Armament using the surrounding rubble, maybe to create a shield to seal the Sheshanaga away? There was a possibility there… but for a feat of that size, he'd need to infuse so much of the surrounding area. He'd be very surprised if that didn't end up exceeding Dragonsbreath's size limit.

He could board it, then. Board it and disable it from the inside. But that wasn't much better: Fei Long was no engineer, certainly not one who could figure out how to bring down a starship like this one. Communications had gone down when the attack had started, so he couldn't even call in and have someone walk him through it.

Mindless destruction could certainly have an impact on the Shesha's innards, but its internal defenses were nothing to scoff at either. Destroying it from the inside might take the same amount of time as destroying it from the outside. Time he didn't have. Every second was a river of innocent blood.

"Hahaha…"

And besides… he still had this fly buzzing around.

Fei Long whirled around, already swinging his fist to crash into the face of Victory -- but Victory had seen that attack coming, and simply vaulted over Fei Long's arm to get behind him.

The demon struck at Fei Long's back with a hand infused to daggerhood. A burst of blue flame from the Chassis' rear thrusters quickly repelled the attack, though, forcing Victory back a tad. Wordless and expressionless, Fei Long pulled a plasma rifle from his back and extended the barrel, pointing it at Victory's head. Green Aether crawled through Fei Long's fingers and into the weapon's inner workings.

Dragonsbreath.

Victory grinned. "Aw, come on. You really think a --"

Fei Long fired. No time to waste.

The shield idea has been insufficient for the Sheshanaga, but it would work quite nicely for Victory. The Old Demon of the Dawn roared in anger as he was encased in a spherical shield of frozen plasma, beating his fists against its transparent surface. The spear drilled against the shield's weakest point, clearly directed by Compass, but even then it would take time.

Enough time for Nebula One to do what was necessary.

Fei Long grunted as he slammed his leg into the barrier, sending it -- and the living Armament it contained -- zooming like a soccer ball off into the distance. With that done, he turned his attention back towards the Sheshanaga. He had an idea now. In the grand scheme of things, maybe it was a good thing Victory had shown his face one more time.

A living Aether Armament, eh?

Yes… that could work.

Ash del Duran was running for his death.

He had to make it. He had to make it to the Seat of Man in time. Even as he charged through the ravaged streets, even as he demolished combat automatics with lightning-fast jabs, his mind was entirely on his destination. The aches in his body, the hollowness in his bones… all of it merged with his thundering heart to become a background buzz.

Ash del Duran had reached the end, the final page of the book. He could feel it now. How long exactly did he have left? Hours, minutes, seconds? No way to tell.

All he could do was run. Before the ink ran dry, he needed to make it to the Seat of Man and claim whatever tiny scrap of glory he could from Atoy Muzazi. Something, anything, to gild his gravestone with. Something, anything, to prove that he had existed.

The world was not making it easy for him. The area around the Seat of Man was crowded with people -- those who had been fleeing from the building, now turned back and fleeing back inside. Whatever this bombardment was, the Seat of Man itself seemed to be spared. The battlefield had now become the safest place in this apocalypse.

No time to push through the crowd. Ash del Duran leapt up into the air -- using the tiniest tiniest tiniest bit of Aether -- and up onto the nearest lamppost, hopping from one to another as he passed above the mass of humanity.

His legs felt like they were about to snap off. He'd used something he couldn't afford to, but there was no other option. He wasn't the sort of man who could afford anything anymore.

Hurry, he begged himself. Hurry.

I don't want to die like this.

I don't want to die invisible.

Sam Set slowly opened his eyes.

"Huh…?" he mumbled.

The moment consciousness returned to him, it was already under assault -- he was surrounded by bloody light and panicked noise, the crowd pressing in around him even as it tried to push him forward. Sam groaned, trying to pull himself away -- but a hand quickly pushed him back down.

"Don't try to move," Alcera whispered. "You're hurt."

That made sense. He'd gone a little… a little… overboard in that last fight. Already, the memory of the long long battle was sinking into the back of his mind like a brick. Not something he could read, not easily, but something that would weigh him down all the same.

Now that he was getting his bearings, he could actually tell where he was. Alcera was carrying him on her back, the two of them mixing with a massive crowd of civilians -- heading into the Seat of Man. The people were desperate, pushing past each other in a massive river of humanity to get to the building as quickly as possible. Up above, one guy was even hopping from lamppost to lamppost, bypassing the crowd entirely.

"What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred. "Weren't we trying to get away from this place?"

Alcera shook her head, looking grimly up at the sky with her piercing crimson eyes.

"Not anymore," she muttered under her breath.

Sam followed her gaze -- and as he locked onto the situation in the sky, the last cobwebs of his fatigue were thoroughly blown away. The Sheshanaga. The Sheshanaga, opening fire. A burning sky and a burning city. Hell on Home.

"What the hell happened?!" he cried, his scream joining those of the crowd around him.

Alcera pulled his head close so he could hear her. "No idea," she whispered. "But it looks like the Seat of Man is safe. We need to get back inside."

"Safe?" Sam gaped. "We were just in there! It didn't look safe then!"

Alcera shrugged lightly. "Safer," she conceded.

Bang!

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The ground around them shook as a stray plasma-blast from the Sheshanaga thudded into the energy shield above them, sending ripples of blue light flowing all throughout the area. Panic reached a peak. In an instant, the push of the crowd had become a veritable stampede, terrified bodies slamming against Sam and Alcera as they tried to get into the Seat of Man as quickly as possible, no matter the obstacle.

"Hold on," Alcera muttered -- and with a flash of red Aether, she leapt up into the air.

At the crest of her jump, she froze her legs with her ability, keeping the two of them aloft as she looked for a route through the sea of bodies below. Coincidentally, it also gave her the best view to witness what arrived next.

This time, a blast did not slam into the barrier.

This time, a light like a meteor smashed through it.

The building was alive, and it was trying to kill them.

Atoy Muzazi darted through the digestive pillars that were beginning to burst through the floor, swinging his Radiants to sever the tongues that came lashing out from all across their surfaces. With reinforcements and the time to take a breath, he had restored his equilibrium. This time, when he felt those tendrils wind their way around his feet --

Quantum King.

-- he took care of them efficiently and effectively.

"Let's get him, Bruno!"

Far above, near the ceiling, the del Sed twins were making their own advance towards Forgiveness Irons. Per the plan they had worked out, Bruno del Sed had altered his form -- his shape sculpted by barriers -- becoming something like a mighty stallion, Serena del Sed riding upon his back. It certainly seemed like she was enjoying herself, flying through the air like that. Muzazi was glad somebody was.

As Serena rode around the perimeter of the atrium, she dragged her hand around the outer edge of the room, peeling away a long and thin sword of steel for herself. Mouths were opening all across the walls, vomiting vile fistulas like cannonballs at their targets above. With single swings of her new blade, Serena cut the wicked things in half, sending globules of rotting flesh down to the floor… where new mouths devoured them again.

The Seat of Man -- or at least this part of it -- was quickly becoming a lost cause. This entire section of the complex had already become Forgiveness Irons' beast. Even if you ignored that this place was actively trying to kill everything inside it, the fact remained that it simply couldn't bear the weight of the rest of the building on top of it.

Before long, there would be a collapse. Muzazi could already hear the creak of suffering metal far above. He'd hoped that the civilians would have been evacuated by now.

Of course… he should have learned a long time ago to stop hoping.

The crimson sky outside. The sound of cataclysm. The ground shaking from the bombardment. Muzazi didn't know why, but the Sheshanaga had begun its attack in earnest -- and it was driving the crowds right back into the Seat of Man.

Therefore, they couldn't allow this battle to drag out. They needed to dispatch Forgiveness Irons and secure a safe place for these evacuees as soon as possible. That fact, that simple fact, drove Muzazi's sword where hope failed.

He ducked under a sweeping tongue and --

"ATOY MUZAZIII!"

-- stopped.

No.

He heard the sounds. The footsteps, approaching. The sword, scraping against the ground. The voice, screaming his name.

But I came here to save you.

Atoy Muzazi whirled around and raised his Radiant -- just in time to block Aclima's massive cleaver-blade before it came down on his head. The girl continued to push, though, her face twisted with exertion and rage as she struggled to kill him. Purple Aether crackled chaotically around her, in perfect synchronicity with her core of hatred.

No, no, no…

"Oh," chuckled Forgiveness Irons. "What is this now? Open Wound."

Curtains of meat parted behind Muzazi, and the master of this flesh-space stepped forth. Black cloth still covering the head atop that twisted body, he brought his hands together. Aclima didn't react -- she could only see Muzazi now. All that existed was the object of her hatred.

She brought her blade down on his Radiant, again and again and again.

"Stories are beautiful things, no? All context and parlay and rays of light -- yet it seems stories can be crossroads, too. Who would have thought I'd claimed a table already taken? I must apologise, young lady. It seems I've dishonoured you plenty, and plentifully dishonoured you. Ah, I might just cry… if I could not make amends."

He spread his hands wide.

"Let me offer you… space upon the page. Open Wound."

The ground disappeared from beneath Atoy Muzazi's feet. Again, Forgiveness Irons had had the floor open its mouth wide. Muzazi had already learnt well how to avoid this tactic, how to dispatch of the dragging tendrils…

…but the same was not true for Aclima.

In an instant, the tongues had seized tight hold of her, wrapping themselves around her body and limbs -- and they pulled. Aclima was dragged down into the boiling darkness, the purple flashes of her Aether growing more distant by the second. Even as she fell now, even as she was dragged… the hate-filled gaze she pointed at Muzazi never abated in the slightest.

NO!

New thrusters blazed from Muzazi's body -- but not to keep himself aloft. With all the speed his body could muster, Atoy Muzazi threw himself down the gullet of the beast.

"Suit," Fei Long commanded, just before he reached the Sheshanaga. "Connect me to Shen."

As he spoke, he poured Aether -- poured Dragonsbreath -- right into the Chassis' communication systems. Hopefully, that could get through whatever signal jamming the Sheshanaga was unleashing. Hopefully. Hopefully…

Hope was rewarded.

"Fei?"

Shen's voice came in over the communicator. Distorted, barely audible… and yet more than clear enough.

"Are you safe?" Fei Long asked immediately.

The reply came back just as quick. "Yes," Shen said. As curt as ever. He'd never been much of a talker.

"How safe?"

"May Miracles has gotten me and several other councillors off-site," Shen explained. "We're in a bunker at the moment. Out of the line of fire."

Fei Long let out a deep sigh of relief. At the very least, he could be assured of Shen's safety. That sure was something.

There was the slightest pause before Shen spoke again.

"What do you intend?"

Judging by the sound of his voice, he knew already.

"Every second the Sheshanaga is up there firing, people die," Fei Long said resolutely. "Someone has to do something about it… and I can do something. So… there's nothing else to think about."

Another pause, and the sound of what might have been a trembling breath.

"Will you…?"

"Die?" Fei Long asked. He shook his head. "No. No, I don't think so… but I'll be gone. Maybe for a good while. I… sorry."

"That's fine," Shen whispered, nearly breaking. "Just…"

A deep breath. A return to composure. It wasn't Shen Xiurong who spoke, but the Lord Mayor of the City of Jìnhuà.

"Do your duty, Nebula One."

Fei Long smiled softly. "Of course. I love you."

"I… I love you, too."

Dragonsbreath -- cancel.

He lifted the emerald light from his communications array…

DRAGONSBREATH!

…and poured it into his entire body.

Thrusters let loose flames the size of trains as Fei Long launched himself up through the final stretch towards the Sheshanaga. Automated defenses locked onto him, combat automatics moved to intercept… but Nebula One could not be stopped anymore. Plasma-blasts were scattered in every direction, machines were reduced to scrap with the slightest touch. The bullet of hope that was Fei Long continued up into the sky --

-- and slammed into the intruder.

DRAGONSBREATH!

Armoured arms buried themselves into metal.

DRAGONSBREATH!

Torrents of green Aether began to spread out like a spider web of spider webs, carving glyphs across the hull of the great starship.

DRAGONSBREAAATH!

As the speed of the spread increased, and the Chassis shattered around Fei Long's body, the glyphs he had inscribed exploded into light.

Everything went green.

Everything went white.

Everything went grey.

And when the light cleared…

…the world had been saved.

Nebula One was no longer a man.

He was a statue, formed from what looked like grey stone but was in truth far more indescribable, holding his gargantuan foe up in the air with his bare hands. Every line of his face, every inch of his skin, every vein and every nerve… all of it captured in exacting detail. His legs hung frozen over the void, unimpeded by gravity.

He was now above such things.

The Sheshanaga was much the same. With the final push of Dragonsbreath, it had ceased to be a terror and instead become a sculpture. Just like its carrier, the stone Sheshanaga remained fixed in place, even now that it had been deprived of its repulsors and engines. It -- and Fei Long -- had become indisputable facts of Serendipity's skyline.

And, for a single blessed moment, there was silence.