Empires | Arc 2 | Chapter 9 | One Battle After the Other

“Fuck you all. Domain of the Shepherd’s Wisdom!” Intellectual roars.

His Heat activates with a violent hum.

The gravitational force within a ten-meter circular radius begins twisting and molting—a sickening, fluctuating tide that delivers bone-crushing pressure one second and absolute weightlessness the next. The maroon-blooded skeletons caught in the radius are instantly pulverized back into the bone dust from which they were born.

Because she is standing too close, Lesca is instantly nailed to the asphalt. Friling is launched upward, while Jarrod—who is just outside the boundary—jumps out of the cafe to assess the devastation. Even from the periphery, Jarrod can feel the suffocating pressure radiating off the field. Whatever force is crushing Lesca right now, it is definitively heavier than 2x gravity.

The entire front facade of the cafe collapses into rubble. Out on the street, passing cars lose all traction, violently swerving and crashing into nearby buildings as the remaining, terrified civilians scramble to escape the area.

Finally, as the last of the skeletons are eradicated, Intellectual stands up. He is growling, his eyes wide and feral, a thin string of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth.

SHAAA.

The suffocating pressure instantly vanishes.

Lesca gasps for air, immediately coughing up blood. The pulverized bone dust is taking too long to regenerate into skeletons because she herself is physically struggling, so she cannot focus on constructing them again.

Intellectual stands perfectly upright, smoothly shrugging off his casual jacket. He closes his eyes and suddenly becomes floaty. It isn’t just his clothes reacting to the wind; his entire physical body is behaving as if the gravity no longer applies to him. He hops lightly on the balls of his feet, completely weightless.

Jarrod‘s eyes widen. He recognizes the mechanic instantly.

“That hover… Taglia did that before…”

He doesn’t finish the thought. Jarrod launches himself forward, extending his arms behind his back to unleash a Push, closing the gap as fast as he can. But

HOOPS

the exact millisecond Jarrod reaches him, Intellectual is gone.

Jarrod snaps his head left and right, scanning the empty air, until a cold voice echoes from above.

“First… you. For slapping me in the face.”

Jarrod looks up. Intellectual is hovering high in the air, floating like a balloon directly in front of Friling. The suddenness of the maneuver leaves Friling frozen for a split second. Intellectual exploits the hesitation. He draws his left fist back and—

DHUSH

—buries a punch directly into the center of Friling‘s torso. He doesn’t just knocked backward; he is launched into the vast sky, ripping a physical hole through the cloud cover before completely disappearing from view.

Jarrod immediately uses his Push to leap into the sky, but a roar shatters his focus.

“You fucking asshole, you are dead!” Lesca screams, sprinting toward the patch of ground directly beneath the hovering Intellectual.

Intellectual simply glances down at her.

In a fraction of a second, his weightlessness reverses, and he drops out of the sky with the concentrated density of a two-ton nuke.

Lesca’s eyes widen. She extends her arms, clapping her hands together. The remaining maroon blood and bone dust surge toward her, rapidly assembling into a thick, cave-like dome of dense bone over her head, the gaps sealed with boiling maroon blood acting as glue and cover.

But the moment the two-ton weight of Intellectual’s falling boots makes contact with the dome, it doesn’t just break.

CRAAA. DHUMMM.

The physical impact shatters the roof instantly, burying the bones, the blood, and Lesca herself deep into the cratered floor.

As the dust settles, Intellectual casually hops out of the crater.

Jarrod—desperately looking for an opening rather than simply observing—looks into the pit and sees the horrifying toll.

Lesca’s arms, legs, and torso are twisted entirely in the opposite direction joints are supposed to bend. Some of her smaller extremities, like her nose, have been liquefied into a maroon paste, while her shattered fingers are plastered into the concrete. Her face is mostly intact—proving she tried to dodge and wasn’t directly beneath his boots during impact—but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the shockwave. Her eyelashes are fluttering rapidly, like the wings of a dying insect.

The only reason she isn’t dead is her Heat. Just like when Taglia punched a hole through her gut, her body is instinctively trying to survive by converting her shattered limbs into boiling maroon blood to regenerate. But unlike before, the blood is only bubbling in isolated pockets. Even when a finger manages to reform, it instantly bursts back into liquid. Her traumatized brain cannot properly command the blood.

For now, Lesca is completely incapacitated, and Friling is somewhere in the stratosphere.

It is now only Jarrod and Intellectual standing in front of the ruined cafe.

Intellectual looks around, appearing genuinely confused. “Seriously… these guys. Iconic entrances, I’ll give them that.” He twists his lips, briefly impressed, before breaking into a condescending smirk. “But without a plan? Have they never fought other Heat users before? One shot and that’s it? Come on!”

Jarrod closes his eyes, taking a long, steadying breath.

SHUCK.

He launches himself into the sky, firing a Push against the ground to propel himself not directly at him, but high above him.

What is his plan?

Only Jarrod knows, but one thing is certain: he isn’t fleeing.

But Intellectual doesn’t know that. He taps his casual boots against the pavement and—

HOOPS

—jumps effortlessly into the sky.

As Jarrod tries to gain altitude, he shifts his gaze downward to track him, but immediately realizes he needs to look forward. His eyes widen, and his momentum completely freezes. Intellectual is hovering directly in front of his face.

“WHAT THE—”

Jarrod doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Intellectual offers a polite, innocent wave, then drives his right leg directly into Jarrod‘s flank.

Finally, Jarrod understands exactly why Friling was launched so effortlessly. It feels like a two-ton nuke just kicked him in the ribs.

“Is it a two-ton kick, or 2x gravity? Did he internalize his Heat?”

Jarrod doesn’t get to finish the thought before he is violently blasted out of the sky, crashing straight through the concrete and steel of a nearby building.

Deep inside the rubble, Jarrod fights to lift his torso. The pain is blinding. Crushed through walls of concrete and twisted metal, his body is covered in deep lacerations, blood leaking from his open wounds. In this broken state, the horrifying reality sets in: he is outmatched again. His friends are in peril, and the dread sinking into his stomach is entirely different from the fear he felt against Taglia.

Unlike the coke guy, Intellectual will not stop until every single one of them is dead.

Jarrod slams his bleeding fist into the floor. “Come on… come on, give me something… an idea, a path, something to work with… a way!” He is so desperate that thick tears of frustration begin to form at the edges of his eyes.

But he doesn’t have time for regret.

Swoo swoo swoo.

Intellectual drops through the hole Jarrod created, landing squarely on Jarrod‘s chest. He immediately begins stomping on his ribs—

DHAD, DHUD, DHUK, DHUDK.

He is seconds away from shattering the ribcage and puncturing Jarrod‘s vital organs. But by some brutal grace, the already-weakened floor beneath them completely gives way, dropping Jarrod several stories deeper into the building.

Intellectual casually hops off the collapsing floor just before it breaks. Glancing down through the debris, he watches Jarrod plummet into the darkness. Offering a highly satisfied smile, He assumes the buffoon’s chapter is officially over.

Confident he has secured a kill, Intellectual steps out of the building and strolls back to the street to finish off Lesca.

She is still lying in the crater, struggling to regenerate.

As Intellectual‘s boots enter her field of vision, she shakily turns her head. She is not a crier, and she refuses to close her eyes. She grits her teeth, a bloody, foam-like saliva bubbling at her lips. She is suffocating on her own rage, entirely paralyzed.

Intellectual smiles warmly. “There, there, little bug… why try and be angry in your final moments? Let me finish it, and I promise you, then you will feel…” He pauses, looking up at the sky with a soft chuckle. “Well, nothing. Since there is no heaven or hell.”

He walks over and crouches beside her, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her bruised face.

Her bloodshot eyes lock onto his, and she grinds her teeth together. “That monster couldn’t kill me… you think you will?”

Intellectual freezes. It is as if all of his homicidal purpose evaporates in an instant. A fanatical, giddy smile stretches across his face. “You have met him? You have actually met Mr. Taglia? What is he like? Is he really that bored and aloof?”

Lesca can no longer hold it in. Tears of absolute humiliation spill down her cheeks.

What is this? What is actually happening? She is the killer, a necromancer, yet this arrogant fuck is casually toying with her.

The indignity she feels in this moment makes Leon‘s infamous ego look like a mud hut next to her mountain of an ego.

“Time to close your eyes… ladybug,” Intellectual whispers. He pulls back his two-ton fist, aiming directly for her face, calculating that destroying the brain will stop the neurons from firing and permanently end her regeneration.

But before the punch can land, a sharp ZINGGGGG echoes through the air.

Intellectual looks up to see a massive swarm of dragonflies—hundreds of them, slightly smaller than the ones Jarrod or Taglia previously fought. They instantly merge into the shape of a giant fist directly in front of the Intellectual’s face and launch a strike.

But HOOPS

—Intellectual is already airborne, standing casually on top of the insectoid fist.

HOOPS

—he jumps again, landing safely a few meters away.

The dragonfly swarm rapidly reconfigures into a wide fishnet formation and charges him.

“I hate having to switch,” Intellectual mutters.

He closes his eyes.

Instantly, the floaty, weightless quality of his body vanishes.

JHIIIIIIIII.

A ten-meter radius of 2x gravity violently activates around him. The dragonflies are charging at maximum speed, but the millisecond they cross the threshold of the domain, the entire net is pulled down.

SPLATSSS.

The swarm is instantly plastered into the concrete. Their delicate wings can’t even vibrate. The crushing weight flattens their bodies, puncturing their softest abdomens against the asphalt. JDen‘s flies are now completely held hostage by the gravity. JDen didn’t come here to play the hero, nor did he come to win. He came to protect the city and its people, just as he promised Leon. But looking at the flattened swarm, it seems he won’t be able to keep that promise.

Deep inside the darkened ruins of the building, Jarrod drifts near unconsciousness. He can barely keep a single eye half-lidded. Through the haze, he hears a steady, rhythmic sound. He forces his eye open and stares at a shattered porcelain basin, water heavily dripping from a busted pipe onto the concrete floor.

He stares at it blankly for a long moment. Then, his eyes widen. A brilliant, desperate idea clicks into place.

“Water…” he whispers hoarsely. “…is everywhere.”

He shakily lifts his head, looking down at his own trembling right arm.

“Ahhhhh!” Jarrod growls, channeling every last ounce of his fading strength. He points his palms at the floor and fires a Push.

DHISK.

The push forces his broken body to stand upright. Knowing his shattered legs won’t support him for long, he relies entirely on his arms, alternating Push and Pull to drag himself out of the rubble and back onto the street.

He spots Intellectual standing with his back turned. The moment Jarrod steps near the perimeter of the his radius, Intellectual abruptly cuts the gravity off. Released from the pressure, the surviving dragonflies slowly flap their crippled wings, closing the gaps between each other to try and reform JDen.

Without turning around, Intellectual speaks. “You are still walking? Well, now I understand exactly how you survived Mr. Taglia. You are tenacious, aren’t you?”

“I know you are stronger than me,” Jarrod pants. “Not only physically, but Heat-wise as well.”

“Thank you,” Intellectual replies, finally turning around, visibly pleased. “But flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

Jarrod lets out a wet, rattling laugh, coughing up blood onto the street. “I am not flattering you. I am telling you exactly what is going to take you down today.”

Intellectual raises a condescending brow. “And how would that be?”

“By using your own body against you.”

Without another word, Jarrod raises both hands. He completely separates his Heat focus onto two of his hands—his right hand channels an absolute, concentrated Pull, while his left hand channels an absolute, concentrated Push.

He targets the exact coordinates of Intellectual‘s body, treating him like a human water balloon. Jarrod‘s left arm becomes the North magnetic node, and his right arm becomes the South node, trapping Intellectual in a perfectly balanced magnetic bubble.

Intellectual looks around, scoffing. He doesn’t feel any physical impact. Then, his arrogant smile instantly dissolves.

“Shit.”

Whatever tactical horror he just realized, he doesn’t wait to vocalize it.

Intellectual attempts to switch his Heat internally to close the gap and kill Jarrod. But his movements suddenly freeze. He stutters, moving like a skipping DVD player. He wobbles, entirely unable to stand up straight. The bubble has taken full effect.

Jarrod smirks, though his breathing is violently ragged and his arms shake from the sheer cognitive load. “Your body is mostly made of water. If I focus my Push and Pull around you simultaneously, it creates a diamagnetic reaction inside the water in your own cells.” He grits his bloodstained teeth. “I can pin you down.”

Intellectual‘s eyes widen, and he lets out a maddening, frantic laugh. “You dumb fuck! I know the physics! But holding this requires more time than I need to switch my Heat!”

“I know,” Jarrod replies coldly. “But you should know that you are not always the smartest person in the room, you inferior cunt.”

Hearing the blatant insult, Intellectual‘s ego takes the wheel. He abandons switching his Heat state and like a buffoon, tries to walk toward Jarrod using pure physical strength, intending to get close enough to catch him in his external gravity radius.

But a sharp ZHIEEEEE pierces the air.

The high-pitched sound reaches Intellectual, Jarrod, the half-formed JDen, and Lesca—who simply smirks from the crater and closes her eyes.

Jarrod squints, looking up into the blue sky. A singularity of light and dark is shining high above, and the point is growing larger by the second. Seeing Jarrod squint, Intellectual turns his head.

Charging rapidly toward them is Friling. But his silhouette has changed. He now possesses two pairs of wings.

The massive, pitch-black wings of Michael stretch aggressively from his upper shoulders, while his traditional, silver wings of Raphael rest beneath them.

Friling halts his descent perfectly mid-air, hovering just above the street. The sheer gust of his sudden stop forces both Jarrod and Intellectual to slide a few feet backward.

Intellectual stares up in absolute awe. “The wings of Michael… and Raphael? Impossible. One is a warrior, the other is a healer… how?”

“When my loved ones are hurt, those who hurt them will face my wrath!” Friling roars, his voice echoing with uncharacteristic fury. “My Heat is now complete. The Archangel’s Wrath!“

He doesn’t waste a single second. The black feathers floating around him instantly freeze, turning outward and locking onto Intellectual like dozens of razor-sharp arrowheads.

“Hahh!” Friling sweeps his arm downward.

DHU, DHU, DHU, DHU!

The feather-arrows launch.

Intellectual tries to dodge, but he is fundamentally stuck. He wasted too much time marveling at the wings, and the diamagnetic bubble has taken its absolute toll; he can barely twitch his fingers. Before he can even activate the ten-meter gravity well, the barrage shreds him.

When the dust settles, Intellectual is still standing—only because Jarrod‘s bubble is physically holding him upright. But he is bathed in blood from head to toe, his body violently pierced by dozens of black feathers.

“Done!” Jarrod roars.

He lifts his arms. Intellectual is launched a few meters into the air—

Whoosh

—his legs flailing wildly. Then,

SHIIIIII,

he is yanked back down toward the pavement at breakneck speed. Only this time, the gravity isn’t in his hands; it belongs entirely to Jarrod.

“I’m not going to crush you on the ground,” Jarrod yells. “I’m sending you straight to the core! Let’s see how your Heat survives actual lava!”

Between the crushing gravitational panic and the horrifying realization of being slammed into the earth, Intellectual completely blacks out.

Jarrod thrusts his arms violently toward the ground, preparing for the lethal impact. Friling remains hyper-alert, hovering just above the street.

Then—

ZAP.

Jarrod is looking forward, like he has frozen for a second, he has to physically shake his head. Nausea rolls over him; it feels exactly as if time just left him behind. He blinks, looking slightly up and to his right.

Three men have suddenly materialized in the street other than Intellectual.

One of them is Loyalist, casually carrying the unconscious, bleeding body of Intellectual over his shoulder. The other is Chaos himself. Both men are standing on the back of Rogue.

But Rogue is no longer just a giant. He is a towering mutant—he possesses his own human face, but the body of a massive elephant, the sweeping tail of a tiger, and his arms and legs have been replaced by the leathery, wings of a bat.

His back is wide enough that all three can easily stand on his back.

Seeing this chimera, Jarrod and Friling freeze in pure shock. JDen, still trying to stitch his swarm together, halts completely.

“Wow. I didn’t expect it to get this bad for you, Intellectual,” Chaos murmurs smoothly. He crouches down, lightly slapping the unconscious Intellectual‘s cheek. “This is exactly why I told you to never let your ego control you.”

Chaos stands back up, looking pleasantly at the group “It was a good test. But given how the tides have turned, we are going to take our leave now.”

As the chimera prepares to turn, Lesca—having barely recovered enough to drag herself out of the crater in a desperate baby-crawl—angrily raises her left arm. She sends two of her half-formed skeletons to lunge at the hovering Rogue.

Rogue doesn’t even move to defend himself. He simply opens his mouth.

“GRAAAAA!“ The concussive force of the roar blows the skeletons backward before they simply scatter like toothpicks. Not even the boiling maroon blood can hold them together; the vibration of that roar vaporizes them into thin air. The shockwave of the growl hits Lesca, forcing her face-down into the dirt, entirely depleting her remaining stamina.

Hovering in the air, Friling‘s mind races.

“Those were the exact same skeletons that held back Taglia‘s Primal Mode arm. How could they be discarded so effortlessly? Is this beast… stronger than Taglia?”

Chaos shakes his head, looking disappointed. “It always has to be dramatic, doesn’t it? You people can never handle a simple interaction. Everything always has to devolve into a bloody, betraying action scenes. Fine, then.”

He raises his hand.

The sky over Titan City instantly darkens, as if a localized eclipse has swallowed the sun. As the group look up, they see them: five massive, pitch-black meteors, each spanning over ten meters across, covered in blinding golden flames, plummeting directly toward them and the city.

Having delivered his parting gift, Chaos and his crew depart on Rogue‘s back, leaving them in a state of absolute paralysis.

Do they chase the villains, or do they deal with the apocalyptic threat falling from the sky?

Lesca is critically wounded and completely useless against an airborne assault anyway.

Friling immediately flares his four Archangel wings, flying directly into the path of the golden meteors. He slaps his own body against the leading rock, spreading his wings wide to stall it, but it is like a single ant trying to hold back a rolling boulder.

“Flesh Eater’s Insatiable Hunger!” JDen roars. The swarm of dragonflies rushes upward, crashing into a second meteor, but their numbers are vastly insufficient. They are even more useless than Friling.

Below them, Jarrod completely forgets his shattered ribs. He sprints directly underneath the trajectory of the falling rocks, planting his feet and thrusting both hands toward the sky to Push two meteors at once. The immense pushback violently shoves him backward. He slides across the asphalt, coughing up thick globs of blood just to maintain his stance.

He is barely slowing them down, and the fifth meteor is in freefall, entirely uncontested. Jarrod might have been able to stop one. But five? There is absolutely no chance.

Kneeling helplessly in the dirt, her arms hanging limp at her sides and her eyes utterly blank, a single tear rolls down Lesca‘s bruised cheek. She has never felt more worthless in her entire life.

But Jarrod, Friling, and JDen are too busy fighting a losing battle against gravity and time to comfort her; they can barely feel their own bodies tearing apart.

As the golden meteors burn closer to the tallest skyscrapers of Titan City, the group unknowingly prepares for the end.

But suddenly, a dual voice—two distinct tones speaking in an absolute synchronicity that it sounds like a single entity—rings out clearly in the ears of Jarrod, Friling, JDen, and Lesca.

Hearing it, JDen‘s swarm seems suddenly invigorated, pushing back with renewed, desperate strength.

The words cut perfectly through the atmospheric roar:

“Weapons of Doom.” “Holy Blades of Divine.”