Windstorm

The mood in the camp is dour that night. The food tastes bland and stale, as if it was made from the desert sand. The camp is maddeningly silent, save for the flickering sounds of campfire and the ambience of night creatures rising from their sleep. No one dares break the silence first, because no one knows how to begin. Instead, everyone simply stares at each other in complete silence, nibbling on their tasteless food for what feels like hours.

Finally, mercifully, Peter speaks up, setting his plate aside half-finished. “Look. I don’t want you to think I’m accusing you of anything, Elyas, but I have to ask. Why?”

Elyas finishes the last bites of his food slowly, methodically, before swallowing and giving Peter a curious glance. “Why what?”

“Why’d you kill him? No, let me rephrase. Why’d you kill him like that?” Peter asks, making a vague slashing gesture with his left hand.

Elyas shakes his head, already tired of this conversation. “I already told you, I took the Valkyrie out before he had a chance to kill anyone else. As for my methods, call it poetic justice.”

Maria gives Elyas a stunned glare. “You can’t be serious. That wasn’t ‘justice’, that was murder, flat out.”

“What else should I have done, huh? Do you really think he would’ve just walked away peacefully if we asked him nicely?” Elyas counters.

“You at least should’ve given him the chance,” Maria replies heatedly. “I get that he killed people, but he was nowhere near the Harbinger’s level. He still deserved a chance, and you took it away from him.”

Elyas scoffs at that, letting out a single, sharp laugh. “You honestly believe that? Did you hear a word the Valkyrie said? All he talked about was culling the weak, that no one was worthy of his master, that we would all die. And you think he’s somehow different from the Harbinger? That a monster like him deserved remorse?”

Maria tries to argue the point further, but Joel interrupts before she can. “Look, we can go on and on about this forever. The fact is, the Valkyrie is dead, right? Let’s just drop this before things escalate.”

Maria shoots a withering glare at Joel. “You’re not off the hook, either.”

“The heck did I do?” Joel demands.

“You’re okay with all of this, I know you are,” Maria says accusingly.

“Shouldn’t I be?” Joel counters, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. “I mean, we’re chasing the Harbinger down to kill her, aren’t we? Because of all of the people she’s killed, or threatened to kill? How is this any different? Where do you draw the line?”

“The motive,” Sullivan says, finally joining the conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Look, I agree we need to stop the Harbinger for good, along with anyone who shares her goals. But that’s because it’s the right thing to do.” He levels his inscrutable gaze at Elyas, causing the smaller man to shrink away slightly. “I don’t think that’s why you did this, though. Am I right?” Elyas doesn’t answer, so Sullivan presses the question. “You said you wanted justice, for your village and your family. I know that feeling, all too well. I’ve lived the past three years chasing that same goal, and I’ve done far too many horrible things to be considered ‘just’. I know what a man consumed by vengeance looks like.”

“What are you trying to say?” Elyas asks slowly, already sure where Sullivan is going with this.

“I’m saying that I understand your pain, your anger. I know you want your revenge, and on some level, I hope you can get it.” Sullivan lets that statement linger in the air for a moment before continuing. “But you have to be careful that you don’t let vengeance turn you into a bigger monster than them. Maria’s right on that mark, at least. We need to do this right, or else we’re no better than them.”

Elyas ponders that for a moment before he smirks and lets out a soft scoff. “I’m only worried about being better than them in battle. We need to give this fight everything we’ve got, win by any means necessary, or we might as well not even fight at all. They’ve made it clear what the game is, and I intend to win. I hope the rest of you do, too.”

Elyas stands and turns to leave, but he is stopped short when Peter calls his name. “Elyas. Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Elyas asks, his patience wearing thin.

“I want you to teach me how to unleash my power, like you can,” Peter says, rising from his stone seat to join Elyas, much to his surprise. “You’re right. We can’t hold back when we fight the Harbinger. I wasn’t strong enough to stop her last time, and I can’t afford to lose again. I need you to teach me what you know. Please.”

Elyas stares at Peter in disbelief before a wide grin spreads across his face. “I thought you’d never ask. Come with me. We’ll need some distance.” With that, he leads Peter away from the camp and a long way into the vast wilderness behind it, leaving the others behind to mull over his final words.

Elyas takes Peter at least a hundred yards away before he finally stops and turns to face his new student. “This should be far enough,” Elyas says, scanning the area with a content grin.

“Did we really need to get this far?” Peter asks, craning his neck to see the distant, dull blaze of the campfire.

“Yes, we do. This technique releases a lot of energy at once. And considering your normal output…” Elyas draws out the statement, giving Peter a knowing glance.

“Fair enough,” Peter acknowledges with an embarrassed grin. “So, how does this technique work? I’ve seen you generate some black flames before when you really exert yourself. Is that one of the steps?”

Elyas shrugs. “Not sure. I think it’s just a byproduct of releasing so much energy at once. To start, I’m gonna need you to promise me something.”

“Name it,” Peter answers severely, fully intending to swear whatever it takes to learn this new power.

Elyas simply smirks and gives him a wink. “Let me get out of range before you let loose.” Peter groans at that but nods anyway. “It’s actually pretty easy once you know what to do. You’ve focused your power before, obviously. You know how when you focus your energy, you hit a sort of wall at some point, like a mental block to your energy?”

Peter shrugs noncommittally, smiling slightly. “I usually don’t charge myself up that much. I tend to lose control when I overdo it. Plus, it just hurts.” He rubs his right arm idly, reminding himself of the one time he truly let loose, and the price he’d paid for it.

“Right, I guess I figured that much. Anyway, when you focus your energy, you tend to hit an upper limit. All you have to do to Unleash is simply break past that limit,” Elyas continues, slashing his hand through the air to accentuate his point. “I’ll admit, it’s hard to do on command, and it does have an intense recoil afterward, but it helps in a pinch.”

Peter nods slowly, trying to wrap his head around the technique. “How hard is it to control?” He asks after a long pause.

“I haven’t had much of an issue with it, but then again, I don’t have your…explosiveness,” Elyas says, trying to find the right word. “Think you got it?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Peter replies slowly, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose.

“Right. Before you do that, I’m gonna get the heck out of here,” Elyas says, only half joking. “Just remember, you have to focus, and I mean really focus. Keep your power contained, break your limits, and keep pushing through. Good luck!” Before Peter can ask any further questions, Elyas takes to the air, flying far enough to get out of the blast radius.

Peter chuckles nervously as he watches Elyas flee. “Right. Focus…” He sits down on the sand, crossing his legs and holding his hands in his lap, as he usually does to focus his energy. He lets his breathing slow to a constant, rhythmic pulse, taking deep, calming breaths and clearing his mind of all things except Elyas’ instructions.

He starts charging up energy within his body, doing his best to keep the rising current of power contained within himself. He starts off small, summoning the same amount of power he would to throw a psion orb, then slowly and steadily letting it grow. He can feel a strong pressure start to build up within his chest as he continues to focus his energy, something like a thunderstorm pressing against his bones, warming him and energizing his blood. He can feel small streaks of power leaking out of his fingertips and he forces the energy back inside his body, tightening his grip and intensifying his focus on the rising storm within him.

He continues to summon more power from his psyche, letting the energy flow through his body like a raging river. His right arm stings as more and more energy flows through his damaged veins, the pain slowly intensifying to near unbearable levels, but he keeps pressing forward anyway, refusing to let the pain stop him. The building energy within him once again starts to leak out, this time as raging tendrils of blue-and-purple lightning and swirling wind. Peter struggles to contain the leaking energy, with only partial success. Once he realizes that he can’t fully restrict his energy, he decides to ignore the leaks and simply focus on further intensifying his power. He pushes forward once again, summoning the power of a full-force Psion Cannon, feeling the raging inferno of energy burn his body and mind all at once.

He tries to press even further, but he finds that he can’t. For perhaps the first time in his life, he has found a limit to his power. He keeps holding onto the stored energy within, desperately trying to force it to rise even higher somehow, to break past whatever invisible limit he has in his psyche. He throws everything he has against this barrier, sending searing pain through his skull with each failed attempt to break it down, causing more and more energy to slip through his control, letting off more and more devastating blasts of stray power into the desert. His breathing becomes erratic, his heart beating so fast it feels like it might explode, his brain aches with fiery agony.

A weak scream fills the desert as Peter continues to wail against his limits, pushing his body far beyond any safe or even natural levels of power, doing everything he can to break this wall in his mind, to truly Unleash. The tiny scream quickly becomes a raging howl as the insurmountable pain inside Peter’s body finally shatters his concentration, causing all of the built-up energy within his body to explode outward in a massive mushroom cloud of blue flames and purple lightning, destroying everything within a hundred feet, leveling the ground around him.

Peter collapses to the ground, his entire body reeling from sheer agony, his mind split wide open, still leaking small sparks of power through thin gashes that have suddenly sprung up all over Peter’s body. Peter pants and wheezes, blue smoke escaping his lungs with every ragged breath, a thin veil of purple clouding his vision. His right arm throbs as if it had been struck by lightning, while every other part of him screams in fresh, blazing anguish. Peter tries to cry, but his tear ducts are empty, as if all of the moisture in his body had evaporated, so he simply lets out ragged, dry sobs, unable to think or feel anything outside of unbearable suffering.

Through it all, however, he can feel a change, a small and nearly unnoticeable one, but a change nonetheless. He can feel the rock-solid wall within his psyche start to crumble, some small part of it cracked and shattered by his efforts. As Peter’s strength returns to him, the cracks in his mental wall start to spread, further weakening it until it feels flexible, almost like a sapling. It takes Peter’s singed mind some time to fully realize what this could mean, but once his thoughts catch up to him, a small smile creeps onto his face.

Still leaking sparks of energy, still wheezing out smoke, still reeling with indescribable agony, Peter pulls himself back together, gathers himself onto his knees, and starts focusing his barely-recovered power once again. He quickly brings himself back up to about half charge, not even bothering to keep the tendrils of light and smoke from escaping the scars across his torso and limbs, knowing that splitting his attention even by a tiny fraction would risk even worse injuries, or even death.

He continues to focus his power as it starts to fully return to him. Some part of his mind recognizes that he is regaining strength at an alarming rate, but he pushes that detail aside, simply glad for the sudden boost of energy as he steadily nears the cracked and frayed barrier within his psyche. He quickly reaches that limit and can immediately sense just how damaged it truly is, so cracked and so shattered that he’s surprised it hasn’t simply fallen apart yet. He presses his full might against the barrier, forcing himself to gather the will and the energy to break through the now flimsy gate blocking him off from his truest potential.

He can feel the wall crumble before the sheer force of his will as if he had struck it with a hammer. Still, though, despite his best efforts, some small part of the wall remains, a single stubborn piece of the barrier within his mind that refuses to give in. Peter continues pressing against this one piece, concentrating all of his very being into knocking it down. He pushes harder and harder against this final barrier, feeling his power grow stronger, stronger, ever stronger, fueled by the limits he has already broken, by the walls he has already shattered.

From the outside looking in, Peter is nearly impossible to see beyond the raging storm of wind, sand, fire, and lightning that swirls all around him. His injuries glow with a light so bright and so blue that he appears to become the sun itself. Arcs of purple flame leap between his scars like the flares of a star, while a fire as bright as a thousand suns burns outward from Peter’s eyes. He is screaming and howling in combined pain and concentration, but the sounds are drowned out by the raging inferno of power surrounding him.

He presses ever harder against his final limit, his mind fully consumed by this one last effort, completely oblivious to the world around him and to the passage of time. He could have spent hours in this state, or just mere seconds. The whole world could have shattered around him, and he never would have noticed. All he can see is the final barrier slowly melting under his will and fury, turning to ash in the face of his sheer determination. He can feel the limit being broken with each passing moment, his power growing exponentially as it does until it feels like he is containing the entirety of the cosmos within his being.

The barrier shatters.

The whole world goes up in blue fire.

Peter has Unleashed.

***

“He’s spiking again!” Maria exclaims, reeling back from the sudden wave of energy that rushes over her from Peter’s direction. “Hurry up! I think he’s gonna blow!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Joel shouts back, trying to press his foot down harder on the accelerator, only to find he’s already flooring it. He looks off into the distance, a look of sheer horror spreading over his face as he sees a raging inferno of blue start to rise into the sky. He and the others had seen some sort of massive explosion of power come from Peter’s location mere moments after Elyas returned. Despite Elyas’ reassurances that this was normal for whatever monstrous technique he had taught Peter, Joel and Maria insisted on rushing over to ensure their friend was okay.

“We really shouldn’t be here,” Elyas says cautiously, his warning falling on deaf ears. “If Peter’s charging up again, that means he’s about to Unleash, and we really shouldn’t be nearby when he finally breaks his last limit.”

“If this technique was so dangerous, then why did you agree to teach it to him?” Sullivan asks, leveling a severe gaze at Elyas.

“Because he needs the power,” Elyas explains offendedly. “Frankly, all of us need to learn this technique if we want to stand a chance at winning against the Harbinger.”

“Yeah, if it doesn’t kill us first,” Maria scoffs, stretching out her senses to check on Peter once again. Her head explodes in agony as she catches just the faintest hint of the sheer force of furious energy and pain emanating from Peter’s psyche. She shouts and writhes for a second, her mind completely blanking to protect her from the worst of the psychic damage. The world goes dark and silent, her mind refusing to take in so much stimulation at once. As her senses slowly return to her, she feels as if she has a migraine; everything seems too loud, too bright, too crowded, despite the near total darkness, silence, and emptiness of the desert around her.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks, his voice rupturing Maria’s eardrums and echoing through her splintered mind.

“I’ll be fine…” Maria wheezes, even her tiniest voice resounding in her skull like a gunshot. “It’s… It’s Peter… It feels like he’s dying out there.”

Joel shoots Elyas with a deadly glare. “Start talking, Silver. How do we stop this?”

Elyas shakes his head, his emerald green eyes seeming to glow with a haunted sort of knowledge. “It’s already too late. We need to get clear now! If we aren’t out of range by the time he blows—”

A massive pillar of blue-and-purple fire and fury erupts into the sky, sending bolts of piercing cyan energy striking through the air and through the ground. The dunes quake and the ground splits as an eruption of volcanic energy tears through the desert, whipping up a massive, fiery storm of turbulent winds and slashing shards of melted sand and glass. Mere seconds after the initial eruption, an immense shockwave rips through the air, blasting everything away for as far as the eye can see. A second shockwave quickly follows the first, adding its own furious power and force to the chaos and carnage.

The buggy is blown hundreds of feet away by the first shockwave, then it is sent tumbling through the melting dunes by the second, ruining its exterior and shattering several key parts and functions, rendering the old vehicle practically useless, twisted in on itself and lit with blue flames.

Within the buggy, Sullivan protects himself, Joel, and Maria with his energy constructs, while Elyas uses his voids to keep the worst of the shrapnel away from his body and face. Several piercing shrieks fill the air, some from Maria and Joel as they cry out in mortal terror, some seeming to come from the very planet itself as the ground continues to crack and burst into flames, and above all of the others, one distinct cry can be heard, a sound so vicious, so animalistic, so tortured that it seems to rip through the air like a third shockwave of agony and power.

The buggy finally comes to a crashing halt as the storm of fire and energy finally dies down, leaving only residual flames and sparks flickering through the air and consuming the sand below, leaving eclectic trails of shattered glass in their wake. Sullivan groans with effort as he attempts to right the old vehicle just enough to allow the others to escape. He uses his projections to lift the fractured and shredded mess of metal, quickly shifting Maria and Joel out of the destroyed seats and clear of the burning wreckage. Elyas takes the opportunity to slip free of his restraints and scrambles away, allowing Sullivan to toss the buggy clear before he becomes engulfed in the flames himself.

“Is everyone okay?” Sullivan asks, panting and coughing through the smoke.

“I’m okay,” Joel replies, hacking out blue smoke, clutching his left shoulder in pain.

“I’ll live,” Maria answers quietly, her splitting headache becoming a skull-shattering migraine, her entire body igniting in sheer agony as every nerve feels frayed and shot at the end.

“I tried to warn you,” Elyas wheezes out through a cough, squinting his eyes through the smoke. “The first time you Unleash, you break every limit you have at once, releasing all of your power in a single burst. And with someone as strong as Peter, this was bound to happen. But did any of you listen?”

“Shut your scuffing face,” Joel grinds out through gritted teeth, taking a few steps closer to Elyas. “You don’t get to be smug. You caused this whole scorched mess in the first place.”

Elyas levels a piercing stare at Joel, his eyes shrouded by dark, flickering shadows from the flames. He steps forward until he is just inches away from Joel’s face. “If you’d just listened to me in the first place—”

“Save it,” Sullivan interrupts, shoving the other men apart with firm authority. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We need to make sure Peter’s okay. I’ll run ahead and try to find him. You guys stay back and stay safe.” Without waiting for further discussion, Sullivan races off into the distance, his emerald green aura consumed by the still-raging fire of blue at the epicenter of the blast.

Maria lies on her back, covering her face with her hands in a futile attempt to ease the pain in her skull. Joel limps over to the wreckage of their buggy, digging through the scraps to retrieve as much of their supplies as he can before they are destroyed by the flames. Elyas simply watches the disaster in silence, not really concentrating on anything specifically. He stares out into the blazing blue pillar on the horizon, a small smile creeping onto his face. Even with his meager talents in sensing energy, he can tell that Peter’s is on an entirely different level than anything he’d ever sensed before. The power feels raw, untamed, pure, like the crystal clear waters of a raging river, carving through anything in its way.

He takes a moment to bask in the energy, to let even the small amount he can sense wash over his psyche, feeling the energy course through his own mind and body, granting him a brief yet noticeable boost in power. Small black flickers escape from his body as he revels in Peter’s true, Unleashed potential, knowing that he now has something on his side that nothing else could ever possibly compare to.

He continues to bask in the azure radiance of Peter’s energy until something different strikes through his mind, an energy of similar strength yet opposite tone. Elyas’ eyes slowly open as he turns to face this new sensation, a feeling that even Maria seems to have noticed as she stirs in fresh pain with the sudden tide of crimson power shining in the distance. Elyas stares out, watching as a small yet blindingly bright orb of bloody force shines over what appears to be another town, the very same town he and the others were driving towards earlier. The energy feels familiar but strange like the Valkyrie’s energy had.

“No…” Elyas mutters, his gaze flicking back and forth between the slowly dying inferno of blue behind him and the rising sun of crimson ahead of him. He looks down at his hands, battered and scarred from constant battle, struggle, and pain. His fingers blacken with stray energy, his body demanding battle, his mind split. He knows he should wait for Peter to recover before engaging this new enemy, but he also knows that Peter likely won’t be in any condition to fight for a while and needs time to rest. Sullivan could be helpful, but he needs to keep the others safe for now.

“Alright, then. If that’s how it has to be,” Elyas whispers, rising to his feet, his body erupting with black energy as he takes to the sky, practically disappearing into the night. Joel notices his departure and calls after him, but Elyas ignores him. This is a battle he must win. He refuses to let another village fall while he can still fight.

***

“Peter?” Sullivan calls out, straining his booming voice over the roaring fire that surrounds him. “Peter! Where are you?” He squints his eyes and shields his face as a spire of cyan energy bursts up from the ground around him before quickly dying back down. Sullivan marches on, keeping his Flash Blaze aura steady and strong to protect himself from the worst of the residual flames, a single tiny speck of green in an immense crater of blue. He slowly makes his way through the crater, constantly calling out for Peter, checking under rubble, and stomping out smaller fires to try and find his young friend.

The fire around him slowly starts to die down as it consumes the last of its fuel and loses what energy it has, slowly making Sullivan’s search easier. “Peter!” He calls out once again, scanning the surrounding area until his eyes stumble upon a small, tattered scrap of yellow near the center of the explosion. He rushes over to the scrap, following it and a few similar shards of fabric until he finds himself stumbling directly over Peter’s limp, unconscious body. “Peter! Hold on, I got you,” Sullivan exclaims, snatching Peter up from the ground before darting off back towards the wrecked buggy.

A streak of green explodes from the epicenter of the flaming crater, quickly making its way toward where the others are waiting. Joel flags it down as he tends to Maria’s wounds with the half-melted medical kit. Sullivan skids to a halt, holding Peter over his shoulder. “Is he okay?” Joel asks, eyeing the several fresh slashes and torn patches of skin and clothes all over his best friend’s body worriedly.

“He’ll live, but I can’t say he’s okay,” Sullivan replies somberly, looking down at Maria as she slowly shakes in pain. “Is she getting any better?”

Joel shrugs, motioning vaguely with the charred bandages and vials in his hands. “No clue. There’s nothing in this thing for psychic damage. Whatever she sensed back there messed her up real good. I think she just needs time to recover.”

Sullivan nods as he scans the area. “Where’s Elyas?”

“There,” Joel scoffs, jabbing a thumb towards the raging battle of clashing black and red in the distance.

“He didn’t,” Sullivan says slowly, his eyes widening in horror. “Is that…?”

“No…” Maria wheezes, struggling to pick herself up against Joel’s efforts to keep her down. “That’s not her. It’s someone else with her power. Elyas… Elyas went off to fight them. We need to…” Her voice cuts off as a spasm of pain slashes through her skull and sends her crashing back down to the ground.

Sullivan slides Peter down next to Maria gingerly, nodding for Joel to try and take care of him. “Easy. You need to rest, and so does Peter. You can protect them, right, Joel?”

Joel nods severely, drawing his pistol and one of the few charges he has left from his belt. “They’ll be right here when you get back,” he replies.

“Good. The fire should keep any monsters away for a while, at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back with Elyas before they die out,” Sullivan says, rising to his feet and dashing off toward the village in the distance.

Peter stirs on the sand, mumbling something unintelligible as Joel does his best to dress the many wounds on his friend’s body. “…Sullivan…” Is the only word that Joel can make out as he tries to keep Peter still.

“He’ll be fine, buddy. We all will,” he says soothingly, glad that Peter can’t see the doubt and fear on his face as he speaks.

“You need…to help him…” Maria whispers, her thin, pained eyes fluttering open and finding Joel’s.

“Not on your life,” Joel replies calmly. “The big man’s got this one down. I’ll only slow him down. My job right now is keeping you both safe and alive until he gets back.” Maria tries to argue further, but another stab of pain shuts her down.

“Thank you…” Peter says softly, rolling his head over so he can see Joel’s face. He gives his friend a small smile before the world around him goes dark once again.

***

Sullivan races through the desert, pushing himself to go faster than he’s ever gone in his life. The sand beneath his feet instantly melts into glass from the heat of his aura, then instantly shatters from the force of his boots crashing down at sonic speeds. He looks up to see flickering flames of black and red clashing and colliding in the air, each impact creating a massive shockwave that shakes the ground and causes Sullivan to stumble just slightly. He manages to reach the village in just a few moments, but he can already tell that he’s far too late. Already several rows of houses have been demolished by stray blasts and slashes shared between the two men.

As Sullivan blasts through the town gates, another stray slash of ebony energy nearly cleaves him and a small family beside him in two—he just barely manages to react in time and whisk the young couple and their child out of harm’s way before they are cut down. “Elyas…” Sullivan grinds out as he sees more and more stray blasts and slashes hurtle toward the town. He speeds through the dirt roads, grabbing as many villagers as he can and escorting them all out of the way of the battle, a good hundred feet away from the town. He speeds back and forth between the town and this gathering spot, eventually managing to grab every remaining villager and lead them to safety.

“All of you, get to shelter! I’ll stop this,” he orders the terrified innocents, turning back and blasting off into the village once again, this time to do battle. As soon as he enters the village gate, he conjures a massive fist of emerald power and punches the ground, the recoil sending him flying into the air, heading straight for this new threat. He cocks his fist back and charges more power into it, causing it to grow ten times its size and glow with a vicious intensity. His target notices his approach just in time to catch a faceful of the incoming punch, rocketing back down into the ground with explosive force.

“Sullivan! Good timing,” Elyas exclaims, his voice ragged, his black aura flickering like a dark bonfire. He catches the older man and flies him down safely to the surface. “This guy calls himself the Reaper. Could use a hand taking him out,” he says, his eyes looking a little too intense, his posture a little too taut.

Sullivan notices these things but decides to focus on the task at hand. “Right. Just try not to damage the village anymore. You’ve already done enough.” He doesn’t let Elyas respond to that. He simply races off toward the Reaper at full speed, ready to strike.

The Reaper smiles devilishly, his piercing blue eyes glinting with bloody intent, his flowing blond locks seeming to hover with the power he exudes. “Foolish,” he intones, holding out a hand and stopping Sullivan dead in his tracks. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he says as Sullivan struggles against the vice grip around him. “You have delayed my master’s work. For that alone, you shall perish.”

The Reaper raises his other hand and summons a large blade of crimson power around it, preparing to run it clean through Sullivan’s chest, but he is stopped when Elyas suddenly appears behind him, a black scythe held between both hands. “Don't forget about me!” He shouts as he slams the blade into the Reaper’s neck. The Reaper’s aura protects him from the brunt of Elyas’ attack, and instead of being decapitated, he is simply launched further into the town.

The Reaper turns around mid air and stabs two blades of energy into the ground, slowing himself down just enough to then turn his blades into two massive slashes of crimson, firing them straight at Elyas, who just barely puts up a void field to deflect the damage. As Elyas staggers back from the impact of the Reaper’s attack, Sullivan rushes forward, four arm constructs generating behind him, ready to strike. He sends two of these constructs out first, stretching them out far to catch the Reaper in the rear. While he is busy dodging the attack from behind, Sullivan closes the gap and grapples the Reaper to the ground with his other two constructs, pinning his arms down and breaking his psychic blades.

The Reaper grunts and strains to break free from Sullivan’s iron grasp, but Sullivan keeps a firm hold through it all. “Unhand me, you worthless waste!” The Reaper shouts, drawing more strength from within, further energizing his bloody aura, expanding it against Sullivan’s grip.

“Keep ‘em steady!” Elyas calls out as he rejoins the battle, a long blade of black energy held to his side. He raises his blade and thrusts it forward with all of his might, piercing through one of Sullivan’s constructs and clashing with the Reaper’s aura. He manages to force his blade about halfway through the misty field of ruby energy before he is suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, the aura simply too strong to further damage. Elyas strains to stab his weapon further, to kill the Reaper, to no avail.

The Reaper smirks, chuckling darkly. “Fools, all of you.” He pumps more power and fury into the aura protecting him, blasting Elyas’ blade out and blowing Elyas himself far back, while at the same time shattering the constructs keeping him bound, staggering Sullivan’s rocksteady stance. While Sullivan is still dazed, the Reaper lunges forward, driving a bladed hand forward, just barely missing his target’s heart as he quickly sidesteps the attack, instead jabbing straight through his shoulder, drawing a cry of pain, but nothing worse. Sullivan grabs the Reaper’s arm and pulls him out of his shoulder, crushing his wrist before punching him into the air with a furious uppercut.

Sullivan sends a construct up to try and grab the Reaper again, but Elyas gets in his way as he attempts to attack the Reaper himself. Elyas gets caught by Sullivan’s grasping hand on accident, leaving the Reaper plenty of time to charge up a retaliatory attack, summoning a massive orb of bloody power over one of his fingers and flicking it down at his prey. Sullivan releases Elyas and summons three more hands to his side, sending them flying into the air, forming a single, massive barrier of verdant power to catch the orb. As the orb continues to crash down towards the ground, out of the corner of his eye Sullivan can see Elyas twitching in the air, his arms jittering, his fingertips leaking black flames, his eyes glazing over with ebony power.

Before Sullivan has a chance to catch the Reaper’s attack, Elyas erupts with volcanic fury and dark power, fully Unleashing his pure, raw might. He howls with mindless rage, his entire body burning with horrifyingly black power, making him nearly invisible against the night sky, save for the stars his new flaming aura blots out. With a scream of pure rage, Elyas rockets forward, slicing his hands up and sending ten immense claw slashes of power hurtling toward the orb, slicing it into ribbons and colliding with the Reaper, shattering his protective aura and blasting him higher into the air. Elyas chases after his enemy with animalistic drive, instantly catching up with the Reaper and driving a blade of energy into his fresh aura, instantly slicing it in half and nearly killing his enemy. Before the blade can make contact with the Reaper’s body, he thrusts his hand out, blasting Elyas down with a telekinetic explosion, pummeling him into the town’s clock tower, shattering the ancient structure’s base and causing it to topple over Elyas’ flaming aura.

Sullivan dashes over to help Elyas, but Elyas explodes out of the rubble with a monstrous scream, his arms burning with black fury and jagged energy. Completely ignoring Sullivan’s presence, he blasts forward, ripping tons and tons of material out of the town’s homes, stores, and roads, dragging a veritable meteor of wood and stone behind him.

“Elyas! Get a grip on yourself!” Sullivan shouts, chasing after the other man, trying in vain to keep him from causing more damage to the town.

Elyas doesn’t even hear Sullivan’s calls. He can barely even understand the world around him through the flaming fog of power clouding his eyes and mind. All he can see is the Reaper, highlighted in his vision in a blaze of red. Nothing else matters to him as he starts to rip large stones out of the village walls, chucking his massive payload of material into the Reaper’s aura field. The meteor explodes against the other man’s ruby-red field, but Elyas is already in the air, blasting up with a giant scythe blade trailing behind him. Just as the Reaper recovers from the meteor strike, his aura is once again shattered by Elyas’ furious blade, and this time the blade manages to cleave closer to his target, leaving a massive slash mark on the Reaper’s arm.

The Reaper howls in pain and fury, blasting Elyas away with a single hand before turning tail and fleeing the town. Elyas reels from the blast, and once he recovers and sees his prey escaping, he screams with mindless rage and flies after the Reaper, passing over Sullivan as he watches the exchange in horror.

Sullivan looks down toward where the Reaper and Elyas will eventually end up, his eyes widening in terror as he realizes that their battle will eventually lead back to where Joel and the others are resting. Sullivan races after the others, desperate to get ahead of them before their battle gets too far. Sullivan manages to reach Elyas and the Reaper before they get too far, leaping into the air to catch Elyas and bring him back down to the ground.

“Stand down, Elyas!” Sullivan shouts into the younger man’s ear uselessly. Elyas thrashes and shouts with mindless fury, desperately trying to break free of Sullivan’s iron grasp, refusing to be stopped in his bloody pursuit. Sullivan throws Elyas back with a forceful shout, dashing forward and striking his friend in the gut with an intense punch, hoping to knock him out.

Instead, Elyas simply shrieks with newfound rage and power, his mind hazing over and highlighting Sullivan in his view in a fog of green. He screams incoherently, grabbing Sullivan’s arm and hurling him over his shoulder with sudden strength and fury, slamming him into the dust below, sending a shockwave of power through the ground, causing it to crack slightly. Sullivan bounces off of the ground, the air knocked completely out of his lungs, unable to defend himself from Elyas’ following flurry of slashes and scythe strikes. Each attack lands against Sullivan’s aura with bone-shattering intensity, sending him flying further and further toward the town behind them.

Sullivan manages to regain his senses in time to see Elyas soaring overhead, a giant blade of dark power held over his head, ready to impale his friend clean through the heart. Sullivan’s eyes widen in fear as Elyas crashes down onto him, his attack only just missing as Sullivan manages to summon a massive hand in front of his torso, catching Elyas’ blade and tossing him aside. Elyas roars as he goes flying off, giving Sullivan just enough time to right himself and land on his feet steadily, skidding to an abrupt halt just yards away from where he had told the villagers to hide.

He looks behind him to see the horrified villagers cowering uselessly behind small boulders and shriveled bushes, cowering together as if that could save them. Seeing the terror on their faces galvanizes Sullivan, giving him a second wind of purpose and strength. He turns back to see Elyas blasting after him once again, his hands stretched back, ready to slash once he gets within range. Sullivan closes his eyes, lets out a single, long, cleansing breath, gathering all of his strength and might into his right arm, causing it to glow with a blinding emerald light, forming a shimmering construct of a fist around his closed hand.

Sullivan’s eyes snap open as he bolts forward, a brilliant strike of green lightning racing toward Elyas’ burning black fire. As Elyas sees Sullivan rocketing toward him, his face calm and determined, his eyes razor-focused and as intense as the sun, a brief flicker of fear slices through his fury, breaking his concentration and shattering the energy he had been building up behind him.

Sullivan suddenly appears in front of Elyas’ face, his fist cocked back and ready to strike. “I told you to stand down!” Sullivan shouts as his fist connects with Elyas’ face, blasting him down into the ground with meteoric force, creating a massive crater in the sand and sending him flying back at least fifty feet, leaving a massive artificial gorge of destroyed sand and stone in his wake. Elyas comes to a crashing halt, exploding out of the gorge and landing flat on his back, his flaming aura dying down, the black fire leaving his eyes.

Sullivan snaps forward, instantly closing the gap between him and his wayward ally. He leans down and picks Elyas up, hurling him bodily onto his shoulder and racing off back to where Joel and the others are resting, coming to an abrupt halt when he enters the camp, dropping Elyas carelessly when he reaches Joel.

“Sullivan! What the heck was going on out there?” Joel exclaims, bolting to his feet and taking a good look at all of the various slash marks and scythe cuts strewn all over his body. “What did he do to you…?” He asks quietly, eyeing Elyas suspiciously.

Sullivan pushes Joel aside with a tired grunt. “I’ll be fine. You should tend to Elyas. He got banged up worse than me,” he says as he stumbles forward, dropping to his knees next to Peter, exhaling in pain as he does. He closes his eyes and focuses his aura around his wounds, willing his body to heal, rapidly causing his slashes to scar over.

Joel’s eyes go wide in fascination as he watches Sullivan close his wounds by himself. “How…?” He mutters as he kneels down to give Elyas what limited help their medical supplies can provide.

“My Flash Blaze technique lets me overclock every part of my body,” Sullivan explains distractedly.

“Right…” Joel says slowly, more than a little jealous. He starts to tend to Elyas’ many slash and impact wounds, not sure if he wants to know what happened to his nose, when Elyas’ eyes suddenly snap open, quickly cycling through fear, anger, and pain in an instant.

“Sullivan…” He mumbles, batting Joel aside with a grunt. He limps over and tries to punch the larger man, but Sullivan simply catches the weak attack and throws Elyas back down to the dirt.

“What in the blue blazes was that?” Sullivan growls, opening his eyes and dropping his healing aura. “One second we’re fighting this Reaper guy, the next you’re trying to kill me and everyone in sight! What happened back there, huh?”

Elyas growls softly under his breath, getting back onto his feet and stalking toward the larger man as he also stands up, staring down at Elyas. “I would’ve gotten him if you hadn’t gotten in my way. I had him dead to rights, and you stopped me! Now we have to deal with two of them flying around out there doing god knows what, killing god knows who!”

“That’s not what I asked…” Sullivan intones darkly, taking a menacing step forward, jabbing a finger into Elyas’ chest. “You snapped back there. I saw the power you were using. It looked just like the fire Peter used when he Unleashed. Is that what that was? Your precious Unleashing going wrong?”

Elyas levels his furious gaze at Sullivan, refusing to back down. “I used it to get the power I needed to win, to kill the enemy.”

“You almost killed everyone!” Sullivan shouts. “And when I tried to rein you in, you turned and tried to kill me! What, does that power make you lose your mind, or did you just want to get me out of the picture?”

“You tried to kill Sullivan?” Joel asks dangerously, his hand twitching for his pistol.

“Stay out of this, kid. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Elyas warns darkly, leveling a finger at Joel.

“Back off, Elyas,” Peter says slowly as he painfully gets to his feet, grunting against the burning fire still lingering in his lungs. Beside him, Maria shakily sits up, her head still throbbing with residual pain.

Elyas turns an expectant gaze toward Peter. “Peter, you know what I’m talking about now, don’t you? The power of an Unleashing, the rush you get. You felt it, how powerful you could become in an instant.”

“Yeah, I know what it can do,” Peter says slowly, eyeing the surrounding carnage left in his wake severely. “And I don’t want any part of this. You told me you’d teach me how to get stronger, not turn myself into a monster.”

Elyas grimaces, not getting the reply he’d hoped for. “Granted, the Unleashed state is…difficult to control. But none of this would’ve been a problem if you’d stayed out of my way,” he says, turning back around to face Sullivan, his arrogant stance breaking slightly under Sullivan’s baleful gaze.

“So you knew not only how dangerous it is to Unleash in the first place, but you also knew that it would make anyone who used it a mindless animal. And you still used it, and made Peter learn it?” Sullivan accuses, his voice deep and quiet.

“I didn’t force anything on Peter!” Elyas counters angrily. “He asked for this power, and I gave it to him! Yes, there are risks, yes it has its drawbacks, but—”

“Shut up,” Joel says, shoving Elyas from behind. “How dare you act like you’re innocent here? You tried to kill Sullivan, you almost destroyed a whole town from what I could tell, and now you’ve turned Peter into a ticking time bomb, and you have the balls to stand there and act like the victim?”

“I thought I told you to stay out of this…” Elyas growls back, looking at Joel over his shoulder.

“Or what? You’re gonna kill me, next? Is that your plan for everything? Just kill everyone who pisses you off, huh?” Joel presses, getting closer to Elyas’ face.

Elyas flicks a finger toward Joel, knocking him back a few feet and forcing him to his knees with his mind. “You talk a big game for someone so weak,” he mutters angrily.

No one sees it coming. Not Joel, not Sullivan, not Maria, and certainly not Elyas. Out of nowhere, Peter’s fist comes flying into Elyas’ already broken nose, sending him sprawling to the ground with a small explosion of blue energy. “Call him weak again, I dare you!” Peter shouts, his fist still glowing with cyan power. He stalks up to Elyas, watching the other man shrink away in surprised fear with dark eyes. “Oh, what? Now you’re scared to talk? Where’s that arrogance you had before, you cocky little prick?”

“Peter, calm down,” Maria whispers, her eyes glowing a faint yellow, sending soothing energy into her friend’s mind as she senses his power rising dangerously.

Peter slowly lets out a cleansing breath through his nose, some part of his mind thankful for Maria’s support. He shakes the power out of his hand and turns his back on Elyas. “Get out of here,” he says simply, to everyone’s shock.

“What are you—?” Elyas begins, but he is silenced when Peter whips back around staring daggers at him.

“I told you to get out of here,” Peter repeats, straining his temper back. “No one threatens my friends. And after what you’ve done today, I don’t think any of us can trust you. So I’m telling you to leave, now, before you make me do something we’re both gonna regret.” Elyas begins to argue back, his confidence returning after his brief shock, but he is silenced when Peter raises his left hand, summoning a small torrent of power between his fingers and aiming it straight at Elyas’ torso.

Elyas scoffs. “You really think you can threaten me with that?” Peter raises an eyebrow then turns his outstretched hand into a gun, forming the gathering power around his fingers. Elyas instantly backs away, a combination of fury and disbelief flashing over his face. “You can’t be serious!”

“You heard him,” Sullivan mutters darkly, his fists glowing with green power, staring directly into Elyas’ eyes, shattering the younger man’s confidence in an instant. “Get moving.”

Elyas shakes his head, refusing to believe this is happening to him. He tries to get some sort of sympathy from Joel or Maria, but all he gets in reply is a pistol aimed at his legs and Maria’s scornful stare. “Fine! I’ll go, but don’t come crying to me when it all comes crashing down without me!” He exclaims furiously, taking to the skies and blasting off into the distance.

Peter tenses up with restrained energy and rising anger. He growls under his breath before thrusting his fingers into the air and firing a single, massive beam of energy and frustration into the sky, lighting the night up like a second sun for a brief but blinding moment. He snatches his hand back into his torso as the energy building up threatens to burn through his arm, cutting the beam short and silencing the wild fury in his mind.

What the heck did he do to me? Peter demands silently, still feeling the rising tempest of power swirling within his body, threatening to explode forward if it isn’t released soon. Peter tries to calm his mind and his psyche, but to no avail. All he can feel is the rising rage building up inside him, the urge to release all of this pent-up power in a single explosive instant.

“Joel, hit me,” Peter grinds out, motioning for his friend’s Scrambler.

“What? What do you—?”

“Just do it!” Peter roars, blue fire leaking through his eyes, his voice rough and hoarse like a rampaging vollick’s.

Joel lets out a brief exclamation of fear before he snatches the Psycho Scrambler out of his belt and thrusts the prongs into his best friend’s arm, setting off the device and releasing a small explosion of blue-and-yellow power into Peter’s body, instantly quelling his rising rage and silencing the storm brewing within him. Peter collapses to one knee, gasping in combined pain and relief as the effects of the Psycho Scrambler rip every last ounce of strength away from him.

Joel shakes his head and looks up to the stars above where Elyas had blasted off to, his eyes filled with indignant fury. “Good riddance,” he mutters before turning his attention back to his friend.

***

A few dozen miles away from the wrecked village and Peter’s camp, the Reaper soars through the air on crimson wings, searching the area for his master’s power. He perks up when he catches a faint sense of the Harbinger’s energy below him, calling out to him like a beacon, and races down to join his comrade. He drops down into a small, wrecked village, one that clearly had been burned down long ago, possibly even weeks before this day. He stumbles forward as he lands, the injuries he had sustained from his battle with Elyas starting to catch up to him. “Harbinger. I wasn’t expecting you here,” the Reaper says through a wince.

“Nor I, you,” the Harbinger replies, her voice eerily calm, her face somehow containing both beauty and horror under the light of the moons. “You didn’t return with your target. I sensed his power from here, and yet he remains out of your grasp. What happened to you?”

The Reaper scowls, brushing her questions aside angrily. “I was ambushed by someone else, someone with lesser power.”

“And you lost,” the Harbinger finishes, not a question, but an accusation. “Master will not be pleased with your performance.”

The Reaper whips around in fear. “You brought Him here, too?”

“No,” the Harbinger replies quietly, sweetly, standing up and waltzing over to her creation. “I brought you to Him,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as she passes him by.

Before the Reaper can say anything, a dark, looming silhouette appears behind him, the dark visage of a man with a long, flowing mane of hair, piercingly dark and empty eyes, and a thin yet muscular frame. [So, this is the pet I’ve been sensing,] a soft and intelligent voice says, echoing through both the Reaper’s and Harbinger’s minds, although no words are spoken. [An interesting specimen to be sure, but one so very weak.]

The Reaper immediately turns around to kneel before his Master, a man he has never met, nor ever spoken to, but one he knows instinctively to listen to and respect, thanks to the Harbinger’s influence and guidance. “Master. I have failed to bring you your prize.”

[Indeed,] the Master says quietly, not truly looking at the Reaper, instead casting his gaze at the Harbinger. [So, this is the one you’ve created?]

The Harbinger nods as she, too, kneels before her Master. “Yes, Master. I have created a few to aid you in your hunt, but this one is all that survives. The other was defeated by the man you desire.”

The Master’s eyes begin to take on a subtle yet threatening magenta glow. [You made multiple, then? I don’t recall asking for more than one servant,] he says slowly, making the Reaper pale slightly.

“Please, Master. I can still be of great service to—”

[Silence,] the Master intones, the sheer weight of his will overpowering the Reaper’s mind, physically compelling his mouth shut and his vocal cords still.

The Reaper tries to speak, but finds that the part of his mind that allows him to communicate simply won’t cooperate. Panic rises in the feeble man’s mind as he stares up at the looming specter of his Master, his bizarre hand stretched out lazily in front of the useless slave’s face. Before anyone can react, several tendrils of pink electricity shoot out from the Master’s fingers, engulfing the Reaper’s entire body, sapping the poor man of all of his power and life, absorbing the stolen strength into the Master’s own psyche. The Reaper tries to scream in pain, but his mouth still refuses to function, so he simply suffers in silence as every last drop of his energy is stolen from him in a few short but agonizing moments. Once the Master is done with his prey, he flicks his distorted fingers aside, blowing the ashen remains of the Reaper’s corpse away with a stiff breeze.

Once the deed has been done and he can feel the newfound energy coursing through his veins, the Master turns his attention to the Harbinger, his eyes taking on a more intense magenta hue. [I never told you to create more slaves for me, did I?]

“No, Master,” the Harbinger replies, her voice distant and dreamy, her pupils shining with an internal pink glow as her Master’s will permeates and supplants every instinct and thought in her mind.

[So, this whole plan was one of your own creation, then?] The Master asks slowly, genuinely interested in his puppet’s answer.

“Yes, Master. I desired to give you more servants, to complete the task you created me for,” the Harbinger replies slowly as if struggling to find her will and consciousness as her Master’s psyche continues to penetrate her own.

The Master nods slowly, taking a brief moment to admire the Harbinger’s ambition and drive before handily wiping those qualities from her as if he were wiping a stain off of a pane of glass. [An interesting effort, but ultimately a futile one. You were not meant to create more servants for me. Your one and only mission was to bring me my prize. That is all you are to do, all you are to think of.]

“I will do no more than what you ask of me, Master,” the Harbinger replies, staring ahead distantly as the Master finishes his work on her mind, rendering her as blank and fresh as she had been the day he had given her his power.

[Good. Now, then, go. Bring me my prize, and don’t return until you do,] the Master says with finality, withdrawing his will from his creation’s psyche and sending her off with this final command.

Without hesitation, the Harbinger rockets into the sky on crimson wings, taking off towards a new destination to lure Peter in. As she flies off, the Master turns on his bony heels and stalks into a strange, metallic structure, readying himself for yet another long, agonizing night of waiting, of constant, continuous waiting until his desired prize finally is brought to him.

Until the day he can set all things right once more.