The dust settled slowly over the ruined stage, a grey shroud covering the pristine white marble.
High Councilman Aamon stood frozen, his immaculate robes coated in a fine layer of concrete grit. The figure rose from the crater. The raw visual data violently contradicted Aamon's absolute logic, fracturing his pristine composure.
Lack Flameheart stood tall in the Atlas Frame Mk-II. The black metal was smeared with sewer slime and fluorescent green algae, and he smelled like a chemical swamp.
Behind him, the "Dead" rose from the hole like vengeful spirits clawing their way out of hell. Borg, Kuro, Torin, Mina, Kip, Olan, Serra, Volt, Rian, and Terra.
And in the centre, hidden by a heavy cloak that seemed to absorb the ambient light, stood Sarah.
The crowd of fifty thousand students was dead silent. The silence wasn't respectful; it was the stunned vacuum of a worldview shattering. The "Terrorist" was back. And he had brought an army of sewer-demons.
"Mic check," Lack’s voice boomed through his suit’s external speakers, the feedback squeal cutting through the silence like a knife. "One, two. Is this thing on?"
"Seize them!" Aamon roared, his composure cracking like a dropped mirror. "Sanctum Guard! These are the traitors who bombed the arena! Kill them!"
A hundred Sanctum Guards—Elite soldiers in polished white power-armour—rushed the stage from the perimeter. Their mana blades hummed with lethal intent.
"Ratchet," Lack said calmly into his comms. "Now."
ZZZT-POP.
Every giant screen in the plaza—screens that were currently broadcasting Aamon’s face in high definition—glitched. Static washed over the images, a digital tsunami drowning the propaganda.
Then, a new video feed appeared.
[Source: Data-Drive (Encrypted)] [Location: Node 98 - The Undercroft]
The Karmic Siphon manifested on the glowing screens. Lines of blue energy were brutally ripped from the dorms like marrow from a bone. And it showed the Alien Ship landing in Sector 2355, proving the war was real and the students were merely fuel for a losing battle.
"It's a farm," Lack’s recorded voice played over the speakers, echoing off the confused faces of the students. "They're feeding on us."
"Lies!" Aamon screamed. He didn't summon a spear. He raised a single finger.
"Divine Art: Photon Erasure."
A beam of concentrated light, thin as a needle and hot as a star, shot toward Lack’s head. It moved at lightspeed. There was no dodge. The laws of causality dictated that the beam arrived before the image of it firing even reached Lack's eyes.
"Combo Art: Prism Shield!"
It wasn't Lack who blocked it. Rian (Ice) slammed his hands together. A wall of diamond-hard, perfectly clear ice materialised instantly. Lack (Vibration) slapped the back of the ice wall.
He vibrated the crystal structure to perfectly match the refractive index of Aamon's laser.
ZZZT.
The laser hit the ice. Instead of melting it, the beam was bent.
It refracted harmlessly into the sky, burning a hole in the clouds above the plaza.
"Physics," Lack grinned behind his mask. "Light bends if you give it a lens."
Aamon’s eyes widened. "Insolent..."
The Sanctum Guards reached the stage. They were High Executor Tier soldiers, trained to kill without hesitation.
"Illogical Club!" Lack shouted. "Show them what we learned in the dark! Mina! Rian! Wet and Wild!"
Mina (Tears) stepped forward. She wasn't crying; she was focusing.
"Executor Art: Hydro-Pump!"
She blasted a massive wave of water across the stage, drenching the charging guards. Rian (Ice) snapped his fingers.
"Executor Art: Flash Freeze!"
The water instantly turned into jagged spikes of ice. The guards were frozen in place mid-stride, their boots encased in permafrost.
"Terra! Torin! Spore Storm!"
Terra (Plant) summoned a massive, blooming flower in the centre of the ice. "Pollen Burst!"
Torin (Wind) fired an arrow that exploded into a gale-force wind behind the flower.
WHOOSH.
The wind carried the sleep-inducing pollen directly into the helmets of the second wave of guards. They stumbled, coughing, and collapsed into the ice, their high-tech filters useless against magical biology.
"Volt! Kip! Thunder-Clap!"
Volt (Lightning) charged his body like a battery. He grabbed Kip (Echo) by the shoulder.
"Scream it, kid!"
Kip took a deep breath. "BOOM!"
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Volt released a lightning bolt inside Kip’s sonic bubble. The echo amplified the thunderclap by a thousand times.
KA-BOOM.
A sonic shockwave of electrified sound slammed into the remaining guards, shattering their visors and knocking them off the stage like skittles.
"They're breaking the line!" Aamon snarled. He looked at the students in the plaza. They were confused, scared, wavering. He needed to regain control. He needed to be the Sun.
"Lies!" Aamon screamed.
"Ability 2: Blinding Light."
FLASH.
More than just bright, the light was absolute. It passed through their eyelids, bleaching their retinas white. The entire plaza screamed, clutching their faces. The cameras went white.
I can't see! Torin panicked over the comms.
You don't need to see, the Light Devil cackled in Lack's mind. You just need to vibrate! Watch out, kid! He's using the good stuff!
Through the blinding whiteness, Aamon raised a finger.
"Unique Ability: Beyond Light."
A beam of concentrated photons shot from his finger. Because of Beyond Light, it didn't travel. It simply existed at the target instantly. Light speed is too fast for neurons to process.
ZZZT.
But Lack didn't dodge. He had predicted.
"Combo Art: Prism Shield!"
Rian had already erected a wall of diamond-clear ice before the flash. Lack slapped the back of the ice, vibrating the crystals to change their refractive index.
The instant laser hit the ice. It didn't melt it. It bent.
The beam refracted harmlessly into the sky, burning another hole in the clouds.
"Physics," Lack grinned, his sensors filtering the blinding light. "Light has to bend if it hits a lens."
Aamon scowled. "You think a piece of ice can stop me?"
He raised both hands.
"Original Skill 2: Multi-Casting."
Hundreds of balls of light formed around him.
"Photon Laser: Barrage."
Hundreds of lasers fired at once. A rain of lightspeed death.
"Illogical Club!" Lack shouted. "Scramble and Disrupt!"
"Mina! Smoke Screen!"
Mina (Tears) vaporised her water into a thick mist. The mist scattered the lasers, turning the coherent beams into a harmless, glowing fog.
Aamon growled. "Annoying insects." He clapped his hands.
"Original Skill 3: Transform."
Aamon’s body dissolved. He wasn't a man anymore. He twisted and warped, transforming into a massive, twenty-foot-long Photon Blade. He had become the weapon.
"Beyond Light: Dash."
He moved. He didn't run. He teleported across the stage at lightspeed, slashing through the mist.
SLASH.
He moved to cut through Terra's vines and Volt's lightning shield before they even registered. He rematerialised in the centre of the group, back in human form.
But as he appeared, steam poured off his armour. His skin was glowing red hot.
"Original Skill 1: Cool Down."
HISSSSSS.
Aamon vented a massive wave of heat, dumping the thermal buildup from his lightspeed movement. The heat wave knocked Torin and Kip backward.
Ha! The Light Devil laughed. Look at him venting! He’s overheating! That’s the problem with Light Speed, kid. Friction is a bitch!
"He has a cooldown!" Lack analysed instantly. "He can't move at lightspeed continuously or he'll melt himself! Attack while he vents!"
"Borg! Bowling!"
Borg rolled forward, smashing into Aamon’s legs while he was cooling down. Aamon stumbled, his concentration broken.
"Enough!" Aamon roared, kicking Borg away. He looked at the students in the plaza. They were recovering from the flash, murmuring, questioning him. He needed to end this. He needed to burn the evidence.
"You claim to be heroes," Aamon panted, steam rising from his shoulders. "But you killed the innocent! You killed Sarah!"
Lack smiled. "I didn't kill her, Aamon."
He stepped aside.
Sarah walked forward, pulling down her heavy cloak.
She stood there, alive, glowing with her own soft, golden light.
"I'm not dead," Sarah said, her voice echoed by Kip so the whole plaza could hear. "And I wasn't killed by a bomb. I was force-fed a god."
Aamon stared at her. His narrative shattered. "She... she rejected the harvest?"
He snapped. The calm High Councilman vanished. Aamon exploded with light.
"If you will not be harvested," Aamon’s voice shook the earth, "Then you will be Erased."
He raised his hands. The atmospheric light warped, bending toward a single point above the stage. He wasn't making fire. He was building a geometric nightmare.
"Ultima Art: The Heaven's Prism."
Above him, millions of photons solidified. They locked together, forming a massive, multifaceted diamond of Hard Light the size of a building. It hummed with terrifying precision. Aamon wasn't going to nuke the campus with messy heat. He was going to fire a million simultaneous lasers to surgically delete every living thing in the plaza.
"He's creating a refraction matrix!" Rian screamed. Lethal, compressed light built to critical mass instantly inside the diamond. "Shields won't work! The beams will just bounce around them!"
"It’s Hard Light," Lack analysed instantly, his sensors whirring. "It’s not energy anymore. It’s Structure. And structures have a foundation."
Lack looked at the massive diamond. He calculated the density. It was Divine Tier. Borg couldn't eat it fast enough. They needed something that could break physics.
"Kuro!" Lack roared. "Can you reach it?"
Kuro stepped forward. The Tiger Beastman was vibrating, a low growl emanating from his chest that shook the debris on the stage. He looked up at the floating construct of absolute order.
"I don't need to reach it," Kuro snarled, his eyes bleeding crimson. "I need to break it."
He dropped his blade. He didn't need steel for this. He grabbed his own right wrist with his left hand.
"Contract: Fury Devil." "Possession: Right Arm."
CRACK-SQUELCH.
The sound was sickening. Kuro’s right arm exploded out of its tribal bindings. The fur burned away, replaced by scales of cooling magma and jagged obsidian. The limb tripled in size, the muscles knotting into a grotesque shape that pulsed with pure, hateful violet energy.
[Warning: Spirit Drain Active (-100/sec)] [Ability: Rage (3x Stats) - Active]
"Throw me," Kuro ordered Lack.
Lack didn't hesitate. He grabbed Kuro with the Atlas Frame.
"Atlas Boost: Launch."
Lack spun and hurled the Tiger Beastman into the air. Kuro flew upward like a missile of pure hate.
Aamon sneered, looking down at the ascending beast. "A physical attack? Against Hard Light? You will shatter your bones against my geometry."
Aamon snapped his fingers. The Prism fired. A beam of erasure, thick as a train, shot down toward Kuro.
Kuro didn't dodge. He roared, swinging the Possessed Arm.
"Devil Art: The World Breaker."
BOOM.
Flesh met Light. Logic dictated the Light should vaporise the Flesh. But the Fury Devil didn't care about Logic.
Kuro punched the beam. The obsidian knuckles of the Devil Arm hit the photon stream with so much force that the light shattered. Kuro tore through the beam, swimming upstream through the laser fire, ignoring the burns covering his body.
He reached the diamond. He grabbed the bottom tip of the Heaven's Prism with his Devil Hand.
"BREAK!" Kuro screamed.
He squeezed. [Strength: Immeasurable]
CRACK.
A spiderweb fracture appeared on the pristine Divine Construct. Aamon’s eyes widened in genuine horror. "He... he crushed the photons?"
Kuro swung his body and slammed his Devil Fist into the side of the diamond. The impact created a shockwave that blew the clouds away for three miles. The Heaven's Prism couldn't hold the stress. The Mana Matrix holding the light together disintegrated under the sheer weight of the violence.
The Prism didn't fire. It shattered.
PING.
Like a glass chandelier dropping from the ceiling, the Ultima Art disintegrated into a harmless shower of sparkles and rainbows that drifted gently over the crowd. Instead of an apocalypse, the Ultima Art dissolved into a harmless shower of confetti.
Kuro fell back to the stage, landing on his feet. The Possession ended instantly, his arm shrinking back to normal, leaving him panting and clutching his shoulder.
Aamon stared at the falling sparkles. His perfect order... crushed by a brute. "He... he broke the construct?"
Aamon stood there, momentarily drained from the failed casting. His "Cool Down" phase kicked in, steam rising from his armour.
Lack stepped forward, his knuckles humming. "You forgot one thing, Councilman," Lack whispered. "Light is fast. But it's fragile."
Lack raised his fist, the Atlas Frame hissing as the hydraulics locked into combat mode.
"And right now? You're out of batteries."
"Illogical Club! Boss Fight!"
? ? ?
[System Record: Character Progression]
- Weakness Identified: Cool Down. Aamon generates immense heat when breaking the light barrier.