Aetheral Space

When Fei Long had been a child, down in the deepest scrap-heaps of his hometown, he had found a suit of armour.

Dragonsbreath!

He had come from a poor family, and his family had come from a poor neighbourhood, and that was where the world wanted them to stay. The suit of armour was old, rusted, nigh-decrepit… but it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A true and new awe had welled up in his heart -- and when he'd reached out to the armour, it had repaired itself before his eyes, becoming as good as new in an instant. No, better than new. At the time, Fei Long had wondered if the armour was magic.

Dragonsbreath!

But no.

The magic had belonged to him all along.

Dragonsbreath!

A supernova of emerald Aether stretched across the sky. It was an Aether ping boosted to its maximum density, wrapping around the three falling pieces of the skyscraper and utterly infusing them in a heartbeat. Dragonsbreath took effect immediately, transforming the colossal pieces of severed architecture into Aether Armaments -- granting them the power to weather the current crisis.

People were falling. Hundreds of people were falling. They needed to be saved -- and Dragonsbreath responded to that need.

Like tiny bits of metal gripped by a magnet, the falling dots were pulled back towards the sections of the skyscraper -- now floating in the air -- and stuck firmly to the outer surface. The horrifying din of screaming didn't stop -- the situation was still terrifying -- but at least they weren't falling anymore.

Behind Fei Long, the demon Victory whistled in appreciation.

"Gotta say," the monster chuckled. "I didn't expect you to save 'em that fast. So your ability even works on objects that big, huh? Good to know, good to know… but it's still gotta take a toll on you, right?"

Fei Long looked over his shoulder, glaring at Victory's ghastly grin.

"I wonder…" Victory purred. "Can you fight me and protect them at the same time, Number One?"

He couldn't.

The massive Aether Armaments Fei Long had just created were taking up a great deal of Dragonsbreath's capacity. He needed to get those civilians to safety, then release his Aether, then engage Victory. Against an Old Demon of the Dawn, he couldn't afford to fight with one hand tied behind his back.

It wasn't as if Victory would just let him do that, though… Fei Long alone wouldn't be able to pull off such a task.

Which was why he wasn't alone.

Fei Long tapped his suit's communicator -- itself an Armament, engaging directly with Aether -- and spoke to his legion.

"Engage," he commanded.

Victory frowned at those words, but not for long. His pink eyes flicked up -- and a new smile spread across his lips as he saw the dozens of dots high above. The most skilled warriors of Jìnhuà, those who would one day compete for their Nebula's position when he was old and grey.

They clutched in their hands all manner of weapons. They were clad in all forms of Armoured Chassis'. But their intent was identical.

The Scarlet Parade was here to exorcise a demon. Fei Long took a deep breath, spoke a silent prayer -- and blasted off towards the civilians. At the same time, before Victory could pursue…

…a crimson curtain descended upon him.

These little bastards.

The Scarlet Parade, huh? Thirty-seven of the rascals, all attacking Victory at once, all looking to help their beloved Nebula protect the people. It was enough to bring a tear to your eye.

Victory punched through a skull.

To tell the truth, it wasn't like he'd been so different, back in his day. Back during the Dawn War, when the Supremacy had turned against their allies from the revolution, the Old Demons of the Dawn had been considered heroes. They'd held the line against the treacherous Supremacy forces, protecting Inganci even after their bodies had withered and died.

Victory pulled out a heart.

But there was the rub. It had been a different time, a different life, a different self. Recording consciousness onto an Aether Armament hadn't been as simple as copy and paste back then, and a thousand-year game of telephone hadn't helped. Victory was a snapshot of a snapshot of a snapshot of a snapshot.

Victory tore off a leg.

Back in the day, there had been a guy who had called himself Victory, and sure -- maybe he had set out to defend the innocent and protect the weak. The change from then to now had been gradual enough, with enough continuity that his Aether had clung to him… but at this point, nothing of the original Ojo Isegun truly remained. He could remember being that man, but he couldn't imagine it.

Victory spat out an ear.

Once, around seven-hundred years ago, that process of corruption might have given him a little angst. Hell, his little sis Mercy was still in the throes of that whole messy phase. But now? He wasn't even the sort of creature who could feel those sorts of things.

Victory licked blood from his lips.

And why would he want to be? Regret was a prison… despair was a chain… and there was nothing freer in the world than a demon.

Victory opened his hands, letting the fingers he'd collected from his first few victims fall down into the city. His face, his clothes, his body… all of it was coated in blood. Around thirty seconds of combat, and he'd already taken a nice hot red shower. He opened his eyes, pink pupils fizzing with pink Aether.

The corpses of his victims -- six so far -- had already vanished from sight, plummeting down into the urban jungle of Serendipity. As the fight had progressed, it had moved further and further away from where it had started, and now the Seat of Man watched them from the horizon. That was fine, though. That was good. Whoever was walking around all the way down there in the streets was sure to have their day ruined.

The remaining members of the Scarlet Parade circled Victory's floating form, weapons trained on him. None of them were moving to attack. Of course they weren't. Even ignoring what he'd just done to their comrades -- and that was hard to ignore, he'd made sure of that -- their job wasn't to kill him.

No, no, no. Not at all. Good ol' Number One had tasked his lackeys with occupying Victory. The carnage happening right now was exactly what he'd expected.

What a hero.

"If you run," Victory smirked, massaging the back of his neck. "I'll kill you last. Just a little offer on the table there."

The spark met the gunpowder.

A Parade member in an ox-like Chassis fired his gatling gun, unleashing a hail of bullets that surged towards Victory -- and the rest of the parade took the opportunity to attack too. In a moment, the sky had become a tangle of bodies and projectiles and weapons, slashing and shooting and killing and dying, bleeding and screaming and roaring and laughing.

Even for Victory, a moment's inattention would spell disaster -- and so he moved with the flow of blood.

Spinning out of the way of the bullets became

a kick to the neck of the assassin behind him became

a flip hurling the body of the assassin towards the lance coming in from above became

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grabbing onto the lance's pole and spinning up its length like a dancer became

headbutting the lance's wielder and shattering his skull became

using him as a human shield against six more attacks became

the opportunity to take a single breath… as the first three seconds of combat ended.

This was what Victory lived for. This was his joy. He could feel it now, deep inside his chest… his heartbeat becoming a drumbeat, a call to endless war. He was in his element.

The world was as it should be.

A brave Parade member seized Victory from behind, wrapping his Chassis' arms around the demon's body. Victory glanced over his shoulder with mild curiosity. The man was looking towards his comrades, face coated in sweat and eyes burning with resolve.

"Get away!" he roared. "Chassis, activate self --"

Victory cut him off by locking lips…

Calamity.

…and scorching him to death from the inside out.

"He said to get away," he chuckled, letting the pile of burning flesh fall away as he turned back to the rest of his opponents. "Those were his last words, and you didn't even listen? Man, that's sad. Was he not popular or something?"

He tensed his body, ready to leap right back into the fray. These guys were good. They were still ready to fight, not one of them accepting his offer to retreat. These were the sorts of people Victory loved to kill the most. These were the only sorts of people worth anything in the world.

"I feel so bad," Victory giggled madly. "I think I'll have to avenge him! Let's make a game of it! If you can stay alive for fifteen more seconds, I'll --"

Crack.

It was only for the briefest moment, so quick that you would miss it if you blinked. But there was no denying it. In that tiny instant of time, if you were to look up, if you were to see the bolt of emerald Aether surging through the heavens…

…you would see the sky turn a furious black around it.

Victory opened his mouth to say something.

Dragonsbreath.

The first attack, a vicious punch to the midsection, sent Victory falling a hundred levels down in around five seconds, the sonic boom shaking the air. Fei Long remained standing atop the sky, in the same position from which he'd attacked, smoke rising from his ruined right gauntlet. Even with the monstrous infusion he was capable of, he'd pushed his right hand beyond its limits. Scowling, Fei Long tossed the gnarled chunk of metal onto a nearby balcony.

The civilians had been saved, moved to safety by the massive Aether Armaments, and Dragonsbreath reclaimed in the aftermath. It had taken only a minute, maybe two. Fei Long clenched his fists.

He'd hoped his Scarlet Parade would be able to keep Victory occupied that long.

He'd been right.

He'd hoped his Scarlet Parade would all be able to survive against Victory that long.

He'd been wrong.

Zou Luoyang. Gao Li. Tang Yazhu. Huang Chan. Sun Rong. Deng Yahui. Bai Zexi. Wei Wu. Lang Liuxian.

Thank you. I'm sorry.

Fei Long had become a Nebula to protect the people. Fei Long had become a Nebula to defend the innocent. For those reasons, he had done everything he could so far to smother his fighting strength, to try and ensure this battle brought about as little collateral damage as possible. That had been his foolishness.

This creature Victory. Every action he took harmed the people. Every breath he took defiled the innocent. He was the incarnation of bloodlust itself.

So long as Fei Long suffered this thing to live, he was failing in his mandate.

There was a sliver of ice within every human heart. Fei Long pulled his free now. It was time to eliminate the enemy.

Nothing else mattered.

Fei Long kicked off of the clouds -- and descended.

Dragonsbreath.

As he plummeted down towards Victory, hurtling past the scattering ranks of his Scarlet Parade, Fei Long planted his hand against the neighbouring building and scraped away the brickwork as he went. Bricks sprayed in every direction as he peeled the building's exterior, falling alongside him, but this wasn't mere destruction. As Fei Long made contact with each individual brick, he was loading it with his intent, like slotting a bullet into a gun.

I need to kill Victory.

Aetheral thrusters erupted from the backsides of each brick, sending them careening like guided missiles down towards Victory, but --

Compass -- any projectile within a meter of me!

-- as expected, such simple attacks with such simple intent were not enough to conquer Victory.

The spear had changed shape once again, becoming a small sphere like a cannonball, orbiting around its master with such speed that it was weaving the winds of a tornado around itself as it obliterated the incoming projectiles. With a single flap of his wings of flame, Fei Long came to an instant halt in defiance of momentum.

Against such an opponent, a more deft hand was needed.

Fei Long seized a falling brick from the air, gripping it tight, causing dust to spill between the fingers of his gauntlet.

Dragonsbreath.

I need to pierce through Victory's defenses -- a method of attack that will strike Victory without being intercepted by his weapon.

The vessel was still fragile, but the more complex intent would result in a more worthwhile Armament. The glyphs of Dragonsbreath spread across the brick, its structure shifting subtly to something more cylindrical. As Victory continued to block the remainder of the initial barrage, Fei Long pulled his arm back, preparing to hurl his payload like a javelin.

Three…

The wind spun.

Two…

The weapon danced.

One…

The silhouette of Victory grew more distinct amidst the destruction. With a laugh, the demon kicked off the air, launching himself upwards, his grinning face becoming huge in an instant -- bearing a smile so wide that his cheeks were splitting and bleeding. One second passed…

…and just as Victory cleared the fiftieth level between him and Fei Long, the strongest man of the UAP let his arrow fly.

The solution Dragonsbreath had created was simple. Victory's defense was fast, but not instant -- so the Armament simply had to be faster. The shot qualified as linear movement only by technicality.

In short, undodgeable.

In short, unblockable.

"Oh --"

An explosion of blue flame ripped the air apart, sending Victory slamming down through a nearby building as a point of blue light -- and then through the next building too, the demon finally managing to bring himself to a halt before a Meep Cola billboard. Victory let out a strange gurgling laugh as he pulled himself back into an upright position -- and that laugh returned to its usual coherent malice as he reset his jaw with a hand.

"Hahaha… that's more like it," he grinned with bloody red teeth. "You're finally feeling it, huh? But you'll need more --"

Fei Long seized Victory by the head. The demon had no time to react -- smoke was rising from his greaves from the sheer monstrous speed Nebula One had just mustered. Victory lashed out with his flaming hand, but too late. Fei Long whirled around and slammed Victory's head against the wall once, twice, thrice.

The first hit shattered the billboard.

The second hit demolished the wall.

The third hit obliterated the room beyond.

With contemptuous ease, Fei Long tossed the wheezing demon into the ruined office space he'd just opened up. Victory landed in a sprawl atop a half-broken desk, feral pink eyes staring wide as Nebula One stepped into the building after him. A bleeding giggle poured from bleeding lips.

"Goddamn," Victory said. "You remember this is your buddy's body, right? You sure you ain't got some secret grudge I don't know about?"

"Jamilu Aguta is gone," Fei Long replied with deadly calm. "You killed him. You're just a desecrated gravestone."

"Well," Victory shrugged with one shoulder. "That's one way to think about, I guess. You should --"

This time, the demon cut himself off. With a cackle, he raised his flaming arm and released the seal on it, unleashing a tidal wave of pink fire that surged across the room. This was no ordinary flame -- the fire produced by Calamity burnt through Aether-infused objects like tissue paper. A more delicate approach was needed here.

Fei Long reached over, plucked a stapler from the desk beside him --

Dragonsbreath.

-- and fired a series of staples into the air.

The tiny metal objects floated, crackling with electricity -- and generating an electromagnetic barrier that parted the flames before they reached Fei Long, sending them off in every other direction. No matter how hot those flames were, they could not burn that which they could not touch. Fei Long simply stood there, arms crossed, and patiently waited for the inferno to abate.

It didn't take too long.

Victory's eyes widened as his attack ended, leaving him one-armed for a single moment -- and in that moment, Fei Long lunged across the room, seizing Victory by the throat and holding him up high. The spear-sphere thrust itself towards Fei Long, but Nebula One simply cocked his head to avoid the strike. As it came back for the return attack, Fei Long spun around, using the weapon's master as a human shield.

He'd miscalculated.

The sphere shifted shape once again as it flew through the air, becoming a red prosthetic arm that latched onto Victory's charred stump. The bloody hand lashed out -- and so, as Fei Long strangled Victory, Victory strangled Fei Long.

Nebula One seethed. Victory snarled.

And…

… a wave of blue Aether ran through them both.

Blood turned cold. Goosebumps rose. Grips loosened.

And Victory turned his head to look into the invisible distance. His pupils had shrunk to utter pinpricks. Perhaps his expression was one of hatred. Perhaps his expression was one of horror.

But his voice was that of someone who had just been reminded of something very, very important.

"Edgar…" he hissed.