Aether Nexus: Curse of Love & Hatred

“Everyone, get down!!” bellowed out Hosok somewhere within the haze, snapping Palon out of his shell-shock.

The hairs sensed a huge object being readied to be swung, a telling sign Hosok was about to swing his giant flail to dissipate the smoke.

Palon jumped to the ceiling of the corridor, stabbing and digging his extra appendages into the solid stone to keep himself affixed midair.

Captain Hosok stood amidst the enveloping smoke, his eyes squinting as he surveyed the hazy chaos of yells from his comrades.

Gripping his flail, its spiked iron ball whistled through the air as he swung with all his might.

With the smoke beginning to disperse and thin, his crew started to emerge from the haze. Their figures materialized like shadows finding form in the dissipating smoke. Yet, as the smoke thinned further, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Closer inspection revealed that the apparent crew members were instead identical figures. Each one donning a dusty gray mantle and hood, a multitude of cryptic-looking wands strapped to their backs, adorned in black baggy pants, intricate gray harnesses covering their entire bodies, and worn brown boots. It was the intruder.

Now surrounded, with no help in sight, the captain would not only adopt his renowned fighting stance, but also adopt the evilest grin he could muster. The thought of brutalizing each mysterious figure made his blood boil with sadistic excitement.

“HA! YOUR ILLUSIONS WON'T WORK ON ME!! I'LL SMASH EVERY ONE YOUR HOLLOW ILLUSIONS TO PIECES UNTIL I FIND THE REAL ONE!!!” His voice, carrying along all of his blood-lust, thundered throughout the entire fortress.

Dashing to the one right in front of him, attempting to crush his head with his bare hands, the figure vanished at his touch. Jarred by this, the other fake figures all jumped at Hosok.

“You insignificant bastard…! To think these fake copies don't even hold a physical form!! WHO DO YOU TAKE ME FOR!!?” Hosok gripped his flail with so much anger, the steel handle itself started to cave in at the tip of his fingers.

As the fakes closed in, all with threatening weapons in hand, Hosok would turn around to catch a fireball aimed at him with his left hand. It was another exact visage of the intruder.

“Captains! I found him! He's over here!” Yelled the shooter.

Confused, Hosok's anger and blood-lust would take over again as he realized something.

The fireball burned his hand, meaning it was real—and so was the shooter.

“GEHAHAHA! TO THINK YOU SURVIVED MY EARLIER ATTACK! NO ONE HAS SURVIVED BEFORE, BUT YOU WON'T SURVIVE THIS TIME!!!” Hosok bellowed once more, dashing towards the real figure with such speed, he broke the ground he was first standing on.

Performing his signature move, Flailed Corpse, once more, the only thing that was left of his target was nothing but red mist.

Before Hosok could claim victory, he felt a sudden sharp pain on his left ankle. It was as if numerous serrated knives sunk themselves deep into his flesh.

Looking down, he saw that his entire left foot was engulfed in Guspane's mouth. Gripping his flail once more to finally rid the worm-like vermin he thought it was, a spear would be shoved through the center of his chest. Coughing up blood, Hosok turned to see the real intruder this time—who stared at him right back with a cold expression.

“Who do I take you for? A strong, yet mindlessly blood-lusted brute that shattered a perfectly good arm. Die.” The man angrily whispered as he heaved the spear upward, cleaving his opponent's head in twain.

Without skipping a beat, the man would take in a huge breath and fired two beads into the thick smoke.

“You guys can't see me, but with Sensori La Darshita, I know where all of you are. One on the ceiling, and two guarding the monk I wounded earlier…" He thought to himself as the beads he shot sliced through the fog.

Their targets—The very same guards helping Stewart, specifically their heads, of which the beads shredded through with blinding speed.

“Two more down. It was made much easier thanks to my Extension Technique: Bewitched Illusion. Even though it cost me my left arm, I was able to lay out my Soul Amplification: Extension in the surrounding area and force them to see everyone else as me at once. Though, the guy on the ceiling isn't being fooled by my illusion copies, he must be sensing movement that displaces the smoke, which my illusions can't do. I can't send Guspane after him nor the monk, they're both too dangerous… I'll have to confront them myself—that bug guy first!”

Back with Palon, he contemplated his next move in his head. “Those two beads I felt just now, they were the same as Director Stewart's, but he's in the opposite direction from where they came from. If I remember correctly, the intruder used some sort of disgusting magic to form mouths on his hands to eat two beads, so he has to be in front of me! He doesn't know I'm on the ceiling, so if he makes a move, I'll pounce on and skewer him!”

As he predicted, Palon felt someone moving towards him at high speeds. Without hesitation, he dropped down from the ceiling and skewered the body.

Alas, the body he skewered was the mutilated corpse of Captain Hosok, a gruesome fate. One Captain Palon would share in as the intruder appeared behind him—Jukill already coming down upon his neck.

Director Stewart meanwhile fought against the searing pain surging through his body. His attempts at rising were hindered by the agony from the man's precise strike, proving far more severe than expected.

“Dammit…! This injury… My ribs… He shattered some of them, and it feels like one of my lungs has collapsed… All of this… From one punch!?”

Gasping for air, Stewart slumped back to his knees. Standing, let alone walking or using his Soulful Technique, seemed out of the question.

As he lathered his palms with coughed-up blood, through blurred vision, the director could only look up at an approaching figure, slowly taking form from within the smoke.

“This was way harder than I thought it'd be.” The man spoke as he emerged from the haze. His right arm wielding Jukill. His left arm completely mangled and bloodied from Hosok’s strike. Most striking though was his exposed face. It was of a dark-toned complexion that spoke of a silent strength. His eyes were as cold as steel, steel that was forged from the fiery vengeance that was his soul. A fire Stewart could see raging behind the man's piercing stare—a fire that was started and stoked by the Soul Divination Council.

“What… What the hell did you do to me…!?” Stewart uttered whilst putting his head down, muttering under his breath.

“Nothing special. I just have good discipline with Soul Amplification: Ordnance. If I didn't, I would have died from that ferocious attack earlier. I also might have sent ripples of soulura at the impact sight. Further injuring your internal organs.” The man said as he walked to the downed director. “Now, I have some questions of my own—Director Stewart.”

Summoning the remnants of his strength, Stewart would launch one last bead, enriched with a silent prayer.

The man, however, cocked his head to the right, avoiding the bead. Wise, as it broke into the floor above. In retaliation, he coldly sliced the director's left shoulder. Blood spewed everywhere—the ceiling, the walls, the floor, even splattering on the man, prompting Guspane to resurface. He tried to lick some of it, but his partner stopped him and gestured to his shoulders. Guspane complied, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

As Stewart writhed in pain, holding his drooping shoulder, the man continued his interrogation. “Let's get straight to the point. Who is in charge? What the hell is the Soul Divination Council planning? Where are all your other bases? Why did you have a witch captive here? Answer these questions, and—”

“You'll let me live, right?” Stewart cut off the man, weakly snickering at his clichéd interrogation.

“I was," the unamused man said as he gripped Jukill, "don't know now though.”

“You don't know a lot of things boy…. If you think you can s-stand against the Soul Divination Council… The ones to herald the arrival of the great Celestial Race upon Eranovum once again… You stand no chance…”

Shock crossed the man's face at the answer, his eyes widening to the max. “Celestial Race!? They were forced back into the heavens a millennia ago by Adam. Why wou—!?”

“You’re a witch yourself… Aren't you… The b-blood of Giona Tamaki runs through your veins, but unlike that girl’s, your’s is… T-tainted… Impure…”

The man's face tightened with anger as he gritted his teeth and positioned Jukill below Stewart's chin. “That girl’s? Impure? What does Giona Tamaki and witches have to do with the Celestials!? Speak!”

Stewart chuckled. “Is it… not obvious? Giona Tamaki… The first witch… Was also the first… The first ever joining of the Celestial and Devil Race… And that means, the blood of Celestials and Devils runs through you too!”

Suddenly, a singular ding could be heard, echoing within the corridor. Briefly stunned, the man watched as Stewart pulled out a circular button from his cloak. An instant later, the holding hand was sliced clean off.

Unfortunately, the split second he gave Stewart was all he needed—The detonation had been set in motion.

For safety measures, the button needed to be held down for a few seconds until it dinged, signifying its engagement. With another press, the last ditch self destruction procedure would be activated, killing anything and destroying everything not only within the fortress, but the entire island.

The ground trembled violently, and as Stewart grinned maliciously, the only thing the mysterious man could do after realizing what Stewart had done was yell out in desperation: “DAMMIT! GUSPANE!!!”

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Next: (Chapter 16) Aserian Disaster Aftermath