The Legion: Heartson

Victor didn't spend much time wondering why he had chosen now to rekindle the old memory. He limped through the cold, dimly lit hallways of the Obsidian facility, his steps uneven as blood trailed behind him, stark against the pristine black floor. 

He pressed a hand to his head, the throbbing ache of his wound reminding him of Rachel's insolence. The poison coursing through his veins made his vision blur, his balance falter. It clawed at his senses, dulling them, twisting them, making every step harder than the last.

Damn her. Damn Rachel. How much must she think she's owed to take so much from me? As if killing my loyal soldiers wasn't enough. As if defying my authority wasn't enough. No, she must go further. She must strip me of my senses, my pride. How filthy.

His teeth clenched, his free hand balling into a fist as rage surged through him. He had already decided Rachel would pay for her betrayal, but now that decision hardened into something sharper, crueler. Any hesitation he might have felt about tearing her apart was gone. The thought of dismantling her piece by piece no longer felt like punishment—it felt like justice. 

His lips curled into a grimace as he stopped to catch his breath, leaning briefly against the wall. The poison was potent, dulling his ability to rely on his senses. But Victor wasn't worried. He didn't need them. Closing his eyes, he let his breath even out, and a faint shimmer of purple light flickered behind his closed eyelids.

Victor: Astral of Territory…

The light intensified as the Astral activated, enveloping him in a field of control. With it, Victor could let go of his weakened senses and rely instead on something far greater. His Astral's ability wasn't just to dominate a space—it was to make it his. 

Every inch of territory that fell under his control became an extension of his will. He didn't need to see the hallway to know it intimately; it belonged to him. Every object, every speck of dust was his to sense, to command.

Tricks, poisons, illusions—they're the tools of the weak, the desperate. But this? 

He took another step forward, this time with more confidence. The Astral of Territory filled in the gaps where his senses faltered, guiding him effortlessly through the maze-like corridors. He could feel everything within his domain, the layout of the facility spreading out before him in perfect clarity. 

My will. Nobody else in this facility, on this planet, or anywhere else could match it. Not even her.

The thought of her reliance on petty tricks made his blood boil, but he let the anger simmer, focusing instead on the task ahead. She was close. He could feel her now, her presence flaring like a spark in his territory. She had moved into another enclosed chamber, no doubt setting up yet another of her little traps. Victor's lips curled into a sneer.

His bloodied hand slid against the wall as he turned the corner, and the faint metallic scent of blood mingled with the sterile air of the facility.

The chamber loomed ahead, its heavy doors slightly ajar. Victor's eyes remained closed, but the image of the room was clear in his mind, painted by the Astral of Territory. He felt her there, waiting. Perhaps she thought she still had a chance. Perhaps she believed her tricks could outmaneuver him one last time.

Foolish girl. 

As he pushed open the doors and stepped into the chamber, he allowed himself a small, cruel smile. His voice, calm yet dripping with malice, echoed through the room.

Victor: I hope you've made peace with your mistakes, as this will be the last room you ever enter.

His eyes remained closed, his head held high as he walked further inside. He didn't need to see her. 

Victor finally opened his eyes, squinting against the light as his vision struggled to adjust. There she was. Rachel. Sitting triumphantly in a chair at the center of the room, her posture relaxed, her legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the armrest. 

She looked as though she were seated on a throne, her smug expression only adding to the image. Victor scowled, his Astral flaring briefly as he confirmed the reality of what he was seeing. This wasn't another illusion. She was here.

He stepped forward, his body faltering slightly as the poison coursing through him made his legs weak. He stumbled, catching himself on the doorframe. Before he could recover, Rachel let out a tiny laugh, her voice light and mocking.

Rachel: Do you need a hand, sir? You're looking a little… unsteady.

The sound of her voice ignited a fury so intense that Victor stopped dead in his tracks. His chest rose and fell heavily, and then it all came pouring out.

Victor: What kind of woman do you think you are? Hm? Defying me like this, after everything I've done for you? Insolence doesn't even begin to cover it. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable! Do you think this is how the world works, Rachel? Do you think you can bite the hand that fed you and expect no consequences? It's laughable. Disgusting, even.

His voice rose, echoing off the walls as he took a shaky step closer, his hand trembling as he gestured toward her.

Victor: I saved you. Do you understand that? You were nothing when I found you. A nobody. Destined for obscurity. And I, in my generosity, lifted you out of that pit. I gave you purpose. I gave you power. I gave you the perfect life. Vice captain, Rachel. Vice captain! Do you know how many people would kill for that position? How many would grovel, beg, sell their very souls for the chance to stand where you stood? And yet you—you—throw it all away. For what? Some insatiable desire for more?

Victor's breath hitched, his rant spiraling further as his rage and poison-clouded mind pushed him deeper.

Victor: You're filthy, Rachel. Filthy. That's what you are. You take and take and take, never satisfied, never grateful. How much is enough for you? Tell me! Do you want the moon? The stars? My very existence? Is there no end to your selfishness?

His voice cracked slightly, his hand clutching his chest as the pain flared again, but he continued, his words spilling out uncontrollably.

Victor: I should have known. I should have known from the moment I saw you. Women like you bring nothing but strife and trouble to everyone around them. You're like a pig. A filthy, ungrateful pig that eats from its owner's plate and still dares to demand more. That type of person deserves—

Rachel's loud yawn cut through his tirade, halting his words mid-sentence. Victor froze, his eyes widening in disbelief as she slowly rose from her chair, stretching her arms above her head as though she had just woken from a nap.

She yawns. She yawns?!

His teeth ground together, his body trembling with rage as he stared at her, unable to comprehend the audacity. How dare she dismiss him so casually? How dare she interrupt his condemnation? 

Rachel, however, simply smiled, her eyes blazing with that unrelenting fire.

Rachel: Honestly, I couldn't care less about your ramblings. I never have.

Her voice was light, mocking, as she began to pace slowly, circling Victor like a predator sizing up its prey.

Rachel: In fact, I've never cared about you at all. Though…

She paused, tilting her head slightly, her grin widening.

Rachel: I suppose I should thank you. Without you, I never would have made it this far. And now you're the only thing standing in the way of me becoming a captain.

Victor's scowl deepened, his vision beginning to blur again as Rachel's words started to slur in his ears. She continued to pace, her tone becoming sharper, more pointed.

Rachel: Did you really think I'd be satisfied with the position of vice captain? You know it as well as I do. You must have known this would happen the moment you brought me on board. 

Victor swayed slightly, his hand pressing harder against his chest as the poison pulsed through him. He tried to focus, tried to make sense of her words, but they twisted and blurred in his mind. The fire in her eyes seemed to grow brighter, more consuming, and for the first time, a sliver of unease crept into Victor's chest.

The antidote. I need the antidote. Before… before it's too late.

He took another unsteady step forward, his mind racing even as his body faltered. He had to end this quickly. 

He slammed his hand into the floor, purple energy surging outward in an instant. The chamber responded to his call, his Astral of Territory activating with a raw, desperate power. From the walls, from the ground, from every corner of his domain, hands began to sprout, massive and relentless, twisting and reaching with unnatural speed.

You'll kneel. You'll break. You'll submit! And then I'll take everything. Every last bit.

The hands, strengthened by the natural energy of the facility, shot toward Rachel faster than any normal human could ever hope to avoid. The air cracked with the force of their movements, each one imbued with the strength to crush or capture her on impact. It should have been over in an instant, a decisive blow to end her futile defiance.

But Rachel wasn't there. She flipped backward with a grace and speed that defied belief, dodging each hand as though she'd danced this waltz a hundred times before. Her movements were fluid, but most infuriating of all—they were utterly unrestrained.

Victor's eyes widened as she weaved through the barrage, twisting and contorting her body to evade every grasping hand.

This speed… she wasn't like this before. Back with Mason, she was slower, weaker. Was she… was she pretending?

The thought clawed at him, setting his teeth on edge. His voice rose into a furious scream as he pushed more energy into his Astral, the hands moving faster, slamming into the walls and ground as they chased after her.

Rachel, however, didn't stop. She outmaneuvered every trap, every attempt he made to corner her. Even when Victor opened holes in the ground beneath her feet, she leaped away with impossible precision, landing gracefully on her toes. She was untouchable, slipping through his grasp like water through clenched fists.

How? How is she still moving like this? She's not even using illusions. Just how long has she been planning this? How long has she studied me? 

He stumbled backward, the poison dulling his movements, forcing him to put distance between himself and Rachel as she pressed forward, closer and closer. Pillars erupted from the floor, blades shot from the walls, and yet Rachel dodged them all, her knife gleaming in her hand as she advanced. Victor's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fury and disbelief overwhelming him.

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. 

Finally, she closed the distance. Rachel was mere inches away, her knife raised, ready to strike. Victor's breath hitched, but he wouldn't lose. 

With a roar, he summoned the last reserves of his Astral energy, twisting the trajectory of the hands sprouting from the ground. One of them shot upward, its massive fingers clamping around Rachel's leg. She stumbled, the momentum of her charge broken. 

Victory.

Victor's smirk returned as more hands emerged, grabbing her arms, her waist, her shoulders, until she was pinned to the floor in a kneeling position. She struggled, but her movements were futile now. From the neck down, she couldn't move.

He limped toward her, his vision swimming, but his smile widening with every step. Finally, he stood over her, raising his hand and placing his palm directly on her face.

Victor: The antidote. Hand it over now, and maybe I'll make it quick. For old time's sake.

Rachel, however, had other plans. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth into his palm. Victor recoiled with a shout, pulling his hand back and shaking it in disgust.

Victor: You filthy—how dare you!

Rachel: I've already decided, Victor. I'm going to win. I won't grovel or beg or give in to a filthy man like you. Not when my will to win is so much stronger than yours.

Her voice was calm, her smile sharp as she stared up at him. Victor's scowl deepened, his body trembling with barely-contained rage.

Victor: No matter. I'll take the antidote off your corpse if I have to.

He placed both palms together, purple energy radiating from his body as he prepared to end it once and for all. The air around him grew heavy, the chamber trembling under the force of his Astral. Forming his hand into the shape of a gun, he pointed his finger straight at Rachel.

Victor: Astral Awakening… Immediate—

But he wouldn't get to finish.

The chamber trembled violently, the air splitting with a deafening roar as the wall to Victor's right exploded into a shower of debris. Shards of stone and steel flew outward, scattering across the room, the sheer force of the impact sending a wave of dust cascading over everything. Victor staggered, his arms instinctively rising to shield his face as the sudden gust threatened to knock him off his feet.

For a brief moment, the entire room seemed frozen, the echo of the explosion ringing in Victor's ears. Then came the sound—the deep, guttural bellow of something massive, something primal. 

Victor's head snapped toward the source, his eyes widening as he took in the figure emerging from the chaos.

Looming in the dust-filled gap was a colossal bull-headed creature, its massive frame dominating the space. Its thick, muscular body pulsed with raw energy, every movement radiating power as it stepped forward with earth-shaking stomps. Its glowing black eyes burned with unrelenting fury, and its breath came out in visible, steaming huffs, filling the chamber with an oppressive heat.

But what drew Victor's attention most wasn't the beast itself—it was the figure riding atop it.

Clinging tightly to the beast's neck was a blonde boy, flaming black ropes crackling around the creature. The ropes danced along his body, licking at his arms and shoulders, casting jagged shadows against the walls. His hands gripped the black ropes on the creature's thick hide with unwavering strength, and his eyes—those piercing, determined black eyes—burned just as fiercely as the flames that surrounded him.