Aetheral Space

Fei Long did not like fighting.

The way he saw it, fighting was the companion to all suffering in this world. If you traced the trunk of any tragedy, you'd find fists hitting jaws plenty of times along the way. It never led to anything good. That was why Fei Long did his best never to start fights in his daily life.

But fights had a way of starting whether you wanted them to or not.

The starship he was facing -- the Thinker's Comet -- had begun to open hatches all over its surface, releasing a swarm of insectoid automatics that were flowing through the void towards him. They were truly legion, producing a cloud of bodies that blotted out the stars behind him. This was the prototype for the automatic system that protected the Shesha itself -- nothing to scoff at, and nothing to take lightly.

But taking things lightly was another thing Fei Long made sure never to do anyway.

Almost casually, silhouetted by the wings of flame that surged behind him, Fei Long reached out -- and grabbed hold of a chunk of rock that was floating through space. The metal fingers of his gauntlet dug deep into the stone surface, and he took a deep breath. Green Aether crackled.

Dragonsbreath.

The effect was immediate. A web of emerald veins spread out across the surface of the rock, dust floating off its surface as it vibrated with power. Still floating in place, Fei Long swung the rock in front of him as if to beat an invisible enemy over the head with it.

For a moment, nothing happened.

But only for a moment.

A pulse of energy exploded out of the stone, shattering it -- and that energy raged through the starlight void, pouring over each and every automatic zooming towards Fei Long. The effect was immediate. As one, their glowing red eyes died down into empty black, their battle-ready limbs falling slack and flailing comically as gravity -- or the lack of it -- made them into playthings.

In an instant, the army of metal had become a floating mountain of salvage. The attack hadn't left even a single scratch on the automatic horde, but Fei Long knew they would never move again. The pulse would not have been kind against their innards.

Still, he had restrained himself, limiting the range of his attack. If he hadn't restrained himself -- and he'd struck the Thinker's Comet directly -- the life support systems of the vessel would surely have been burnt out too, and he'd have put his comrades in mortal danger.

Slowly, Fei Long released his grip -- and the dust that remained of the asteroid slipped through his fingers.

This world really is fragile, he thought, looking back at the Comet. That's why you need to tread carefully.

He tapped the side of his helmet, sending out a signal to the UniteShadow -- the stealth vessel that had brought him and his comrades here. Now that the automatic defenses of the Thinker's Comet were down, they could come in closer and begin boarding procedures. Things were in motion.

The Thinker's Comet was one of the few starships in the galaxy capable of making an independent light-jump, but that didn't mean they could do it instantly. It would take half an hour, give or take, before the Comet could zip out of the system. So long as his comrades took control of the vessel before then, victory was theirs.

For the time being, he'd stay put. After all, if the Comet did try and launch itself out of here…

…someone had to be ready to catch it.

"Exansiguate!"

Jamilu spun his spear, deflecting the shower of blows that rained down on him from above. The Tower had produced a pair of transparent, insect-like wings from its upper section, and was now using them to remain high up while its sword-arms attacked relentlessly.

"To think this thing's still around," Victory let out a crackling giggle. "There's a blast from the past. Still, this dipshit isn't much to look at. The Emperor used to march over entire mountains. This thing's basically just a trash-can in comparison, huh?"

Silence, Jamilu thought, deflecting each and every blow with pinpoint precision.

"If you're having trouble," Victory mocked. "Why, I'd be happy to take the steering wheel for you. I'd take this thing out in an instant and win the battle for you."

And then, having erased my mind, you'd kill everyone else. I'm not so stupid as to fall for such a thing, demon.

"Ah, you're no fun," Victory sighed. "Hey, Tower, how about you? Wanna team up and kill this guy?"

"Annihilate!"

"Guess not. Ah, nobody's any fun these days…"

Ignoring Victory, Jamilu swung around the length of his spear and darted towards the Tower, severing its countless sword-arms at their spawning point with a single slash.

"Nacht!" he called out, leaping backwards again as the Tower belched forth a torrent of boiling gas. "Your goal is the bridge, is it not?"

In the reflection of a shattered section of the smooth floor, Jamilu saw Morgan nod. "We're taking control of the ship."

"It's a good plan," Jamilu danced, slicing bullets out of the air. "See to it."

For a moment, Morgan hesitated -- before running off to continue his journey towards the bridge. The young man accompanying him, however, stayed put.

Jamilu leapt up into the air as the Tower released twin tendrils of liquid metal, the newfound limbs surging up towards him. He reflected their first attack with a swing of Victory -- but they were branching out, forming new extensions where they were struck, slowly but surely overcoming Jamilu's defense.

"I'm not capable of fighting this thing and protecting you!" Jamilu barked down at the boy's distant figure. "Go with Nacht!"

Jamilu had expected the only response would be retreat… but, curiously, that wasn't the case.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I can help!" the boy shouted up towards the tree of metal. "You have 97 seconds until it adapts a way to kill you!"

That wording. That certainty in his eyes. That sense of the outsider, like what Luna gave off. Jamilu tightened his grip on Victory.

Precognition.

He'd be a fool to ignore the words of one who could see the future.

Soul Locus.

Even as the Id, Tybalt del Sed knew when he was outmatched. He was a pretty prodigious fighter - ha, ahaha -- himself, but that only meant so much when he was going against a Nebula, right? Not just a Nebula, but Nebula Three, the Master of the Killing Arts himself, the Paradox Fist, the Neversmile! When it came to hand-to-hand combat, there was nobody better -- and here he was! Just showing up for no reason!

Ha! Ahaha! How damn unpropitious could one guy be?!

That was why Tybalt had to take measures.

The battle-lines had been laid out -- three against three, but the quality of the teams was far from equal. His shadows could act and fight if the need arose, but at the end of the day they were still shadows. If Tybalt wanted to win, he'd need to give them a helping hand.

Soul Locus was the ultimate tool in his arsenal. The user -- the Id, in this case -- would bloom like a flower of the mind, spreading his influence and strength to the other two members of the Triumvirate. Once all was said and done, the Id would be out of commission for a while, but for the time being?

He'd rip them to shreds.

The Ego changed first. Engorging like a black balloon, it grew in size until its head scraped the ceiling. The front of its trench coat flew open, revealing dozens of twitching insect-legs within, like the Ego had transformed into an upright millipede. The black barrels of countless pistols poked out from between the spindly limbs, already aiming at their prey.

The Superego swelled too, its torso stretching and warping until its body-plan resembled a serpent more than anything else. Its arms -- just as stretchy, just as flexible -- clutched daggers that had grown to such an extent that they were more like greatswords. The giggle it let out was warped and deepened to such an extent that it felt like the aftershock of an earthquake.

And the Id? The Id just laughed, even as violet Aether poured from his eyes and his mouth, the light washing over his features mercilessly.

"Ha! Ahaha!" he cackled. "You're dead! Dead, got it?! All of you are freakin' moribund! Get 'em, boys!"

Responding to his command, the two beasts rushed forwards to their new targets --

Killing Arts: Guillotine Kick.

-- and made it about two steps before the top halves of their bodies exploded.

Tom Foolery calmly brought his foot back down to the ground, his boot still sparking green-and-blue. With a single kick, he'd torn apart two monsters more than ten times his size -- and it wasn't just that he hadn't broken a sweat. He hadn't even blinked.

This was the Master of the Killing Arts.

Still, that didn't mean that the shadows were done. When they were like this, it would take more than bisection to finish off the persona of Tybalt del Sed. In the blink of an eye, new shadows had flocked in to repair the damage Foolery had inflicted -- and the two shadows reared up again, roaring and screeching in discordant union.

Tom Foolery glanced at Alcera Nox. "Girl," he said. "We'll occupy these familiars through repeated death. Understand?"

"Ha!" the Id laughed from behind the wall of shadows. "Ahaha! Are you stupid?! They'll just keep coming back!"

"Yes," Tom Foolery said. "But it'll give that girl time to kill you."

Tybalt cocked his head.

That girl?

Tybalt widened his eyes.

That girl!

He whirled around, swinging a clumsy fist -- and Annatrice del Sed ducked under the attack, avoiding death. Even so, though, the air pressure alone was enough to send her flying backwards. She flailed in the air for a second before seizing hold of the rubble beneath her, bringing herself to a forced halt.

Tybalt licked his lips. Behind him, his shadows clashed with the clown and the silent girl. Before him, the task Erica had entrusted him with awaited.

He cracked his knuckles.

"Let's get this over with," he grinned.

Annatrice del Sed, for her part, just clenched her fists and stood ready. It was the strangest thing, but… Tybalt was pretty sure this was the first time she'd dared to look him in the eyes. It was nice to see someone gain confidence.

Tybalt was so glad this girl got to experience that before she died.

Clash.

Clash.

Clash.

Clash.

Their attacks met, time and time again, the force of the blows exploding through the Thinker's Comet as the two -- no, three -- fighters made their way through the vessel. This was not a battle that could be restrained to a single location. It demanded dominion of space.

A swing of a shield-sword was blocked by pinpoint infusion of an ankle.

"I have to give it to you," said Erica del Sed.

A swing of an elbow was deflected by a flickering forcefield.

"I didn't expect you'd be able to get around Skin of God."

A midair headbutt was avoided with a twisting flip.

"When you got me with your elbow back there, I figured it was because of your unique mental makeup. Bruno had been hit by Skin of God, but Serena hadn't, that sort of thing."

A punch to the jaw was caught by a lightning-fast palm.

"But that's not it, is it?" Erica smirked, squeezing the twin's fist in her grip. "You have a resistance."

She threw their arm back -- and, at last, they backed off. Both bodies darted back, staring at each other down the length of the hallway. That hallway stretched on behind Bruno and Serena, while behind Erica a set of massive doors loomed.

Even so, Erica still smiled as she wound her arm.

"It was a mistake to let you fight the Black Blur," she said casually. "Your resistance to mental viruses has made you my perfect adversary. It's not good."

Serena just glared daggers at the older girl -- and pointed an invisible set of real daggers at her at the same time.

"Annatrice," she said, voice low.

"Yes? What about her?"

"You said you were going to kill her."

"I did say that."

"Why?"

For a moment, Erica said nothing. But then, betraying a hint of exhaustion that seemed utterly alien to her, she sighed and ran a hand over her face.

"I understand there's no possible way you could know about this," she said. "But it's still tiring to explain this again and again."

"What are you talking about?!"

Erica blinked…

Erica stopped smiling…

Erica tapped her foot against the floor…

…and the doors behind her slid open, pouring an unearthly crimson light over her and Serena.

"Tell me," said Erica. "Have you ever heard of something called the Prince?"