*************
Wyatt Graves
Breathing heavily, I grip the back of my head as the Bloody Palm quickly moves flesh, blood, and bone to the back of my head, fixing the crack Sequester just put in it. Crawling forward a half-foot, I position my right arm behind me as I use the dent recently made from my skull to stand up. But as I reach my full height, the whole world in my vision is trembling, woozy, and vibrating.
Only a few feet from me fights Abraham, Bonfire, and Virgil against Sequester, and by the Devil, did Abraham not talk him up enough.
A depressing clash unfolds before me in the steel hallway as my three friends, each a combatant mighty enough to either beat me or give me a run for my money, engage a towering Nahullo in relentless combat. All the traps in the hallway are broken, and most of the vents that expelled hot steam are ruined, leaving the hallway clear to my sight. Dozens of dents deeper that the one I just made lie in the wall, showcasing what has happened to each of us in this short time.
A figure of fire stands in front of the giant, unleashing blow after blow of radiant blaze. Bonfire's entire form streaks a brilliant purple, the heat enough to melt the metal beneath him. But the flames licking at the edges of Sequester's armor seemingly do nothing, and the man in armor remains unfazed, deflecting the fiery assault with the winds that cover him. Sequester then follows Bonfire with his Claymore, singed slightly by the heat.
And so, with a frustrated grunt as Bonfire leaps at Sequester's visor to dig the heat inside, the Nahullo raises an arm of swirling gust to stop him. Before he can, however, a shadowy figure weaves around, attempting to ensnare Sequester's arm with darkness. Dozens of Nightwhips cover the Councilman's single arm as Abraham follows up with three Nightmares to guarantee Bonfire damages the man.
Three Councilmen made of Ether lunge at the giant, their ghostly forms striking with deadly precision. However, even as Bonfire unleashes a conflagration of purple flame into Sequester's visor, this only serves to enrage him as a wall of swirling tempest guards his eyes. A hammer, blade, and scythe land upon his armor as the fire roars down his helmet, and he replies with an even more powerful bellow.
Air gathers around him, the vibrating energy dangerous enough that Virgil immediately begins to sink to the ground with Flicker, but he's not fast enough. The zephyr of Ether is released, slamming Bonfire into an opposite wall and having him slide down the wall with a trail of blood behind his head. Not good. Not good at all. When his fire is extinguished, he can still be hurt.
At the same time, Virgil is flung toward a wall, but he only manages to Flicker through it after his leg makes sickening contact with a pipe. Even he's not fast enough to react to that. And finally, the gale also destroys Abraham's three Nightmares all at once, leaving the man to fall onto a single knee as blood streams down his nose.
Sequester immediately steps toward Abraham, who is only a foot from me, and I push cool Ether through my mind as I use Liberation. Time slows to a crawl as the Nahullo's foot hangs in the air mid-step while my mind conversely accelerates.
Fuck. Fucking fuck. I thought we'd be able to hold him down for longer. Taking a moment to calm myself, I gauge my friends' conditions. It's only been a minute or two at most since the battle started, and we aren't looking too good. I hope whatever Earl found in there is worth it.
Bonfire is alive. I can see his chest moving gradually, but he's out of the battle for now. I need to get Sequester away from him so that he can recover and wake up.
Turning my attention to Virgil, the man exiting a wall behind Sequester with a blade in each hand, I notice his apparent limp. His left leg is bent. Bad. It looks more like a letter from the alphabet than a leg. I can't imagine that feels good. But.. he can still move, which means he can still fight. I have a feeling he'll be using his Silhouette quite a bit more for the rest of the tussle.
Next, I glance at the man right beside me, Abraham... he's a bit harder to tell. I don't think he's down for the count, but he needs a few seconds to recover from the backlash of his Nightmares dying. If only he could call for backup; everyone who could help us is fighting. Wait... not them all. Autumn. She ran off when we set foot in Bent. Could Abraham reach her? Maybe. It's worth a try.
I know she'll be furious at us, but I don't think she'll attack us. She's level-headed enough to strike back at Sequester. Who else? I attempt to rack my brain for anyone else who Abraham has met who could help us, but no ideas come to mind.
Dammnit!
This motherfucker is too good! He's swifter than Virgil, tougher than me, and he hits with more brutality than Bonfire. Not to mention, he has Abraham's versatility with his winds, shaping them into whips, hands, gales, and shields. Hell, he smacked me with a fucking burst of air that came out of his visor!
Ah... the strain of Liberation is starting to pick up. What can I do here? Lily has to hit his flesh, so she won't work because of his armor unless I get a precise enough shot to land in his visor. A Ballista will bite through his winds, but I'm worried he can push it off-course. Either will work if we can somehow manage to restrain the man, but I find that hard to imagine happening with Bonfire out of commission.
That means... we have another course of action, Bloody Palm.
I wait a brief moment before a stalled growl, slowed by Liberation, reaches my mind. Watching a Nahullo's suit of armor protect them so perfectly, I've come to an idea, one that I quickly disseminate to my artifact. Then, I release Liberation as the Palm begins to do as I request, shortly after devouring another artifact.
Squeezing my face with my left hand, I stumble forward, attracting Sequester's attention. And as I do so, the Nahullo finally speaks with something other than rage. I let him talk as the Blood Palm prepares my idea; the blood, flesh, and bone within me begin to boil.
"You humans are beyond arrogant. Thinking a few traps and four of you would be enough... how stupid. I can't wait to see that face of yours when I take what's mine from behind that wall, Ahbram. And I can't wait even more for your father's arrival. The Viceroy will be delighted with our success, and hopefully, he will allow me the grace of executing you."
Scoffing lowly, I arrange myself between Sequester and Abraham. That smug face, barely visible beneath his helmet, invokes endless rage.
"Don't you think you are the arrogant one, Sequester?"
I could attack, I could act on my anger, but I save it. The Bloody Palm is still preparing, and I slap it with a Daydream of it being a higher Sigil to work with even greater force. My vision immediately becomes woozy as the artifact wrestles blood from my veins, but I don't fight it. I trust it to act at this point with payment.
Meanwhile, while I cover the left side of my face, Sequester guffaws and points an armored finger toward me. Behind him, Virgil pauses, eyeing me curiously.
"You!? A child calls me arrogant? Boy... you have no idea who you speak to. I am Sequester Yorn, great-grandson of the legendary Ytern Yorn, the Warmaster. I have slayed Angelic demons, scaled Devil's Maw, and borne the weight of the Pale Cavity. You are nothing but a worm."
I gaze at the man from my right eye as my left is covered with a crimson web that quickly sprawls over the remainder of my face, the Bloody Palm initiating my idea. Spots appear in my vision from the blood loss, but I grit my teeth and focus.
The Bloody Palm has six Sigils. Each with its own unique effect. It's taken months to garner them all, but they are powerful.
The first, Occultist, allows it to control blood and parts of flesh. The second, a Comanche, enables it to replenish and regenerate flesh and blood. The third, an Abbot, allows it to infect others with its necrotic Vigor and Ether. The fourth, another Occultist, gives it the capability to sacrifice flesh, blood, and bone to enhance the might of its Ether. Its Metamorphosis touched the fingers, allowing it to steal others' flesh with a simple touch, something I had only found out days previous. The fifth, yet another Occultist, stimulates the Palm to transmogrify its form and, to an extension, mine. The sixth, a final Occultist, bolsters the previous ability and lets the Palm temporarily detach from me without adverse effects for either of us.
And with its newest Sigil from killing Dominus, the Bloody Palm slides itself off my elbow, ingratiating itself onto my face as my flesh, bone, and blood, all together, shift. A dull throb fills me instead of pain as I feel liquid trail down my face while a film covers it. Sequester immediately reacts with a harsh hiss.
"By the Cavity... What are you?"
Curiosity bolsters my thoughts as Insight blooms against Sequester. I confront resistance using the skill, but after a push with my mind, I see myself through the Nahullo's eyes. Though sadly, I don't hear any of his thoughts. It would appear that something, possibly a skill of his, prevents me from doing so.
But the mask forming over my face, using the entirety of the Bloody Palm's mass, shocks me the most. The idea was to protect my only actual vital, for Death's Lantern still holds my heart, and that the Bloody Palm can fix up any other injuries that might come. Yet... I did not expect how grotesque I would look.
The mask is a bizarre and awful sight to behold. Transfigured from a combination of bone, flesh, and blood, a disturbing amalgamation is created. It is so freakish that Sequester doesn't even move to strike me as his stature halted in surprise. I bought time thinking he would, but he does not.
Bone forms the foundation of the mask that curves up and over the back of my head, more helmet than a mask, creating an intricate lattice of hardy and regenerative material. The bone appears ancient, stark white, contrasting with the sanguine streaks of blood that imbue patterns within the bone.
Intertwined with the bone are sinewy tendrils of flesh, like living vines that snake across the mask. The flesh seems to pulse and breathe, giving my face an unsettling sense of life. It is as if the mask is an extension of my own skin, even if I can't feel the outer section of it.
The most unnerving aspect of the mask is the blood that courses through it. Tiny veins of crimson weave throughout the bone and flesh, giving it all a vivid hue as some liquid seeps through the veins and onto the steel below.
For a moment, I worry if it will have any effect, but after just a half-second of staring at myself, I feel my vision sharpen, my mind clear, and my blood flow through my body at a speed that nearly scalds my innards. As it happens, films of thicker flesh barricade my veins and arteries, allowing the blood to flow even swifter, all a part of the Bloody Palm's skillset.
The artifact has done each of these things one at a time, only far weaker. However... now that it is entwined with my skull with my permission, the Palm's Ether flows nearly as smoothly as mine. A pop resounds within my ears as blood fills them, and instead of deafening me, my hearing only expands.
It immediately is elevated to the level of Temper, and I follow up with that very skill as I can acutely discern my surroundings with only sound. All these changes happen in only a single second, for Sequester doesn't let it go on any longer. Immediately, he roars and charges at me, dragging his blade along the ground, manifesting sparks along the steel floor.
Virgil bounds after him from behind, but a swipe backward from Sequester at the air conjures a gust that sends Virgil head over heels as he struggles to right himself.
Cursing, I quickly rise to match him, sucking in a deep breath of Ether through my mask, surprised that it allows me to. And as I do so, a single word comes from the Palm, as if telling me what it is we are doing.
Pautuhm
Its word is not a true word, something more of a mishmash of syllables put together, but I don't argue.
Pautuhm it is.
Ether fills my lungs and loosens my chains as I weave Arbalests in my right arm, two feet, and hanging elbow on my left. Odd how the tables have turned. Now I have a right arm but no left one.
Bursting forward toward Sequester as he raises his Claymore, I swipe out my right arm to the side, having the long blade emerge from the outer part of its figure. Then, crouching as I see Sequester's eyes brim from his visor, I lean into the strike, knowing the Bloody Palm won't be broken.
It never has before.
And as I lean into his upward swing, headbutting his Claymore, I pivot my arm and stab the blade forged by Earl toward the Nahullo. His blade approaches my face at a blistering speed as they impact. I flinch from the strike only slightly as my vision goes black, not from pain but from bone and flesh covering it from the damage to my mask. I sway back from the impact.
But I still see from Sequester's eyes. I catch that his hands tighten in supreme force against the Bloody Palm's defense, the artifact constantly regenerating as he tries to dig into my face. And while his Claymore is gouging into and stuck within the element of my Pautuhm, I pierce toward his visor with the blade from my forearm.
The bronzed tip enlarges in his sight, but a gauntleted hand grasps my blade out of the air. Sequester's other hand, not on his Claymore, holds me still as he growls out a threat.
"Die, Wendigo. Your kind are abominations to life!"
Under my mask, I smile.
No one ever expects Earl's tricks.
Flicking a finger forward, I activate the handcannon hidden within my prosthetic palm. It's not as powerful as Earl's Coil due to him still researching a better mechanism for firing, but it packs a hell of a punch with extraordinary explosive power.
A resounding bang shakes my enhanced years as the handcannon fires out a pound of steel right for the Nahullo's face.
I even get to watch it hit him square in the jaw of his visor, and his vision goes similarly dark. Laughing at him as he removes his Claymore and holds his head, I wipe the broken bone, spilled blood, and shredded flesh from my mask. Gradually, light returns to my eyes as the Bloody Palm settles into this state more comfortably.
Across from me, I find Sequester as he tears a ruined and broken helmet off of his head. It was already partially damaged, but the point-blank shot of a cannon did the trick. The bad part is that he looks pissed, like kill a child pissed.
An echoing roar fills the hallway, bouncing off each and every wall continuously as the stale air swirls rapidly. The gales go from nothing to hurricane-level of intensity in a single second, leaving me to use Chainlink Boots and a Leash on a nearby pipe to keep myself still.
Worried for the wounded, I glance back. Behind me, Abraham has two Nightmares holding him and Bonfire to the ground, one with a net, the other with a hook. It works, but it's an apparent struggle. Meanwhile, around Sequester, I see Virgil holding himself still with dozens of Nightwhips. That's going to tire him out in less than a minute.
However, Sequester shows no signs of stopping. The wind only continues to rise. I need to reach him and stop him. I don't know what he's building to, but it can't be good. This wind must either be from his Sigil or his Power, and if he's developing to something, it can only be one thing at his status.
A Dzil.
Sighing, I know what I have to do.
Virgil can't move in this gale. Abraham and Bonfire are stuck in a corner. Earl is behind the wall. It has to be me to either meet him, slow him, or stop this production of power. And I'm running out of time.
I release the Insight for more spare Ether. Then, I Release my knees and ankles. The chains fade as I feel power rush in. At the same time, my Struggers Gasp is reaching a limit.
Taking a split second to mentally prepare myself, I gauge my opponent. And then?
I lurch forward, releasing my Leash and falling onto my right hand and legs, just as Edmund once did. Wind rushes over my form, less than before, but still enough to uproot a house. Gritting my teeth, I coat my hand made by Earl with Whetting, unwilling to spare the cost for Hone.
My hand digs into the stone below, stabilizing me partially. Then, I gaze upward, peering at Sequester. And he, too, stares at me, hate evident in his pupils. An unsaid meaning crosses from him.
I am better.
I don't reply verbally. Instead, I act.
Two Arbalest detonate simultaneously as I burst forward with Shaded from Adumbral obscuring my form, space seemingly contorting, as for the first time, with my senses bolstered by the Palm, I actually see my movement. Sequester raises his hand as I approach him, fighting against the squalls. And groaning from the pressure, the pain transmitted from my hand newly dug into the ground, I funnel the Ether from my Strugglers Gasp into each of my feet, splitting them evenly.
Then, I Arbalest again, traversing over three times the distance as the first, landing a foot from Sequester. I swing my arm for Lily, attempting to raise it to blast his face just as his hand opens, a spiraling vortex of air hidden within. Immediately, I evade, seeing the act as unilaterally deadly and knowing I am far too slow, but a squall behind me pushes me forward as he slams the vortex into my chest with a grimace.
"Die!"
*************
Wyatt Graves
Breathing heavily, I grip the back of my head as the Bloody Palm quickly moves flesh, blood, and bone to the back of my head, fixing the crack Sequester just put in it. Crawling forward a half-foot, I position my right arm behind me as I use the dent recently made from my skull to stand up. But as I reach my full height, the whole world in my vision is trembling, woozy, and vibrating.
Only a few feet from me fights Abraham, Bonfire, and Virgil against Sequester, and by the Devil, did Abraham not talk him up enough.
A depressing clash unfolds before me in the steel hallway as my three friends, each a combatant mighty enough to either beat me or give me a run for my money, engage a towering Nahullo in relentless combat. All the traps in the hallway are broken, and most of the vents that expelled hot steam are ruined, leaving the hallway clear to my sight. Dozens of dents deeper that the one I just made lie in the wall, showcasing what has happened to each of us in this short time.
A figure of fire stands in front of the giant, unleashing blow after blow of radiant blaze. Bonfire's entire form streaks a brilliant purple, the heat enough to melt the metal beneath him. But the flames licking at the edges of Sequester's armor seemingly do nothing, and the man in armor remains unfazed, deflecting the fiery assault with the winds that cover him. Sequester then follows Bonfire with his Claymore, singed slightly by the heat.
And so, with a frustrated grunt as Bonfire leaps at Sequester's visor to dig the heat inside, the Nahullo raises an arm of swirling gust to stop him. Before he can, however, a shadowy figure weaves around, attempting to ensnare Sequester's arm with darkness. Dozens of Nightwhips cover the Councilman's single arm as Abraham follows up with three Nightmares to guarantee Bonfire damages the man.
Three Councilmen made of Ether lunge at the giant, their ghostly forms striking with deadly precision. However, even as Bonfire unleashes a conflagration of purple flame into Sequester's visor, this only serves to enrage him as a wall of swirling tempest guards his eyes. A hammer, blade, and scythe land upon his armor as the fire roars down his helmet, and he replies with an even more powerful bellow.
Air gathers around him, the vibrating energy dangerous enough that Virgil immediately begins to sink to the ground with Flicker, but he's not fast enough. The zephyr of Ether is released, slamming Bonfire into an opposite wall and having him slide down the wall with a trail of blood behind his head. Not good. Not good at all. When his fire is extinguished, he can still be hurt.
At the same time, Virgil is flung toward a wall, but he only manages to Flicker through it after his leg makes sickening contact with a pipe. Even he's not fast enough to react to that. And finally, the gale also destroys Abraham's three Nightmares all at once, leaving the man to fall onto a single knee as blood streams down his nose.
Sequester immediately steps toward Abraham, who is only a foot from me, and I push cool Ether through my mind as I use Liberation. Time slows to a crawl as the Nahullo's foot hangs in the air mid-step while my mind conversely accelerates.
Fuck. Fucking fuck. I thought we'd be able to hold him down for longer. Taking a moment to calm myself, I gauge my friends' conditions. It's only been a minute or two at most since the battle started, and we aren't looking too good. I hope whatever Earl found in there is worth it.
Bonfire is alive. I can see his chest moving gradually, but he's out of the battle for now. I need to get Sequester away from him so that he can recover and wake up.
Turning my attention to Virgil, the man exiting a wall behind Sequester with a blade in each hand, I notice his apparent limp. His left leg is bent. Bad. It looks more like a letter from the alphabet than a leg. I can't imagine that feels good. But.. he can still move, which means he can still fight. I have a feeling he'll be using his Silhouette quite a bit more for the rest of the tussle.
Next, I glance at the man right beside me, Abraham... he's a bit harder to tell. I don't think he's down for the count, but he needs a few seconds to recover from the backlash of his Nightmares dying. If only he could call for backup; everyone who could help us is fighting. Wait... not them all. Autumn. She ran off when we set foot in Bent. Could Abraham reach her? Maybe. It's worth a try.
I know she'll be furious at us, but I don't think she'll attack us. She's level-headed enough to strike back at Sequester. Who else? I attempt to rack my brain for anyone else who Abraham has met who could help us, but no ideas come to mind.
Dammnit!
This motherfucker is too good! He's swifter than Virgil, tougher than me, and he hits with more brutality than Bonfire. Not to mention, he has Abraham's versatility with his winds, shaping them into whips, hands, gales, and shields. Hell, he smacked me with a fucking burst of air that came out of his visor!
Ah... the strain of Liberation is starting to pick up. What can I do here? Lily has to hit his flesh, so she won't work because of his armor unless I get a precise enough shot to land in his visor. A Ballista will bite through his winds, but I'm worried he can push it off-course. Either will work if we can somehow manage to restrain the man, but I find that hard to imagine happening with Bonfire out of commission.
That means... we have another course of action, Bloody Palm.
I wait a brief moment before a stalled growl, slowed by Liberation, reaches my mind. Watching a Nahullo's suit of armor protect them so perfectly, I've come to an idea, one that I quickly disseminate to my artifact. Then, I release Liberation as the Palm begins to do as I request, shortly after devouring another artifact.
Squeezing my face with my left hand, I stumble forward, attracting Sequester's attention. And as I do so, the Nahullo finally speaks with something other than rage. I let him talk as the Blood Palm prepares my idea; the blood, flesh, and bone within me begin to boil.
"You humans are beyond arrogant. Thinking a few traps and four of you would be enough... how stupid. I can't wait to see that face of yours when I take what's mine from behind that wall, Ahbram. And I can't wait even more for your father's arrival. The Viceroy will be delighted with our success, and hopefully, he will allow me the grace of executing you."
Scoffing lowly, I arrange myself between Sequester and Abraham. That smug face, barely visible beneath his helmet, invokes endless rage.
"Don't you think you are the arrogant one, Sequester?"
I could attack, I could act on my anger, but I save it. The Bloody Palm is still preparing, and I slap it with a Daydream of it being a higher Sigil to work with even greater force. My vision immediately becomes woozy as the artifact wrestles blood from my veins, but I don't fight it. I trust it to act at this point with payment.
Meanwhile, while I cover the left side of my face, Sequester guffaws and points an armored finger toward me. Behind him, Virgil pauses, eyeing me curiously.
"You!? A child calls me arrogant? Boy... you have no idea who you speak to. I am Sequester Yorn, great-grandson of the legendary Ytern Yorn, the Warmaster. I have slayed Angelic demons, scaled Devil's Maw, and borne the weight of the Pale Cavity. You are nothing but a worm."
I gaze at the man from my right eye as my left is covered with a crimson web that quickly sprawls over the remainder of my face, the Bloody Palm initiating my idea. Spots appear in my vision from the blood loss, but I grit my teeth and focus.
The Bloody Palm has six Sigils. Each with its own unique effect. It's taken months to garner them all, but they are powerful.
The first, Occultist, allows it to control blood and parts of flesh. The second, a Comanche, enables it to replenish and regenerate flesh and blood. The third, an Abbot, allows it to infect others with its necrotic Vigor and Ether. The fourth, another Occultist, gives it the capability to sacrifice flesh, blood, and bone to enhance the might of its Ether. Its Metamorphosis touched the fingers, allowing it to steal others' flesh with a simple touch, something I had only found out days previous. The fifth, yet another Occultist, stimulates the Palm to transmogrify its form and, to an extension, mine. The sixth, a final Occultist, bolsters the previous ability and lets the Palm temporarily detach from me without adverse effects for either of us.
And with its newest Sigil from killing Dominus, the Bloody Palm slides itself off my elbow, ingratiating itself onto my face as my flesh, bone, and blood, all together, shift. A dull throb fills me instead of pain as I feel liquid trail down my face while a film covers it. Sequester immediately reacts with a harsh hiss.
"By the Cavity... What are you?"
Curiosity bolsters my thoughts as Insight blooms against Sequester. I confront resistance using the skill, but after a push with my mind, I see myself through the Nahullo's eyes. Though sadly, I don't hear any of his thoughts. It would appear that something, possibly a skill of his, prevents me from doing so.
But the mask forming over my face, using the entirety of the Bloody Palm's mass, shocks me the most. The idea was to protect my only actual vital, for Death's Lantern still holds my heart, and that the Bloody Palm can fix up any other injuries that might come. Yet... I did not expect how grotesque I would look.
The mask is a bizarre and awful sight to behold. Transfigured from a combination of bone, flesh, and blood, a disturbing amalgamation is created. It is so freakish that Sequester doesn't even move to strike me as his stature halted in surprise. I bought time thinking he would, but he does not.
Bone forms the foundation of the mask that curves up and over the back of my head, more helmet than a mask, creating an intricate lattice of hardy and regenerative material. The bone appears ancient, stark white, contrasting with the sanguine streaks of blood that imbue patterns within the bone.
Intertwined with the bone are sinewy tendrils of flesh, like living vines that snake across the mask. The flesh seems to pulse and breathe, giving my face an unsettling sense of life. It is as if the mask is an extension of my own skin, even if I can't feel the outer section of it.
The most unnerving aspect of the mask is the blood that courses through it. Tiny veins of crimson weave throughout the bone and flesh, giving it all a vivid hue as some liquid seeps through the veins and onto the steel below.
For a moment, I worry if it will have any effect, but after just a half-second of staring at myself, I feel my vision sharpen, my mind clear, and my blood flow through my body at a speed that nearly scalds my innards. As it happens, films of thicker flesh barricade my veins and arteries, allowing the blood to flow even swifter, all a part of the Bloody Palm's skillset.
The artifact has done each of these things one at a time, only far weaker. However... now that it is entwined with my skull with my permission, the Palm's Ether flows nearly as smoothly as mine. A pop resounds within my ears as blood fills them, and instead of deafening me, my hearing only expands.
It immediately is elevated to the level of Temper, and I follow up with that very skill as I can acutely discern my surroundings with only sound. All these changes happen in only a single second, for Sequester doesn't let it go on any longer. Immediately, he roars and charges at me, dragging his blade along the ground, manifesting sparks along the steel floor.
Virgil bounds after him from behind, but a swipe backward from Sequester at the air conjures a gust that sends Virgil head over heels as he struggles to right himself.
Cursing, I quickly rise to match him, sucking in a deep breath of Ether through my mask, surprised that it allows me to. And as I do so, a single word comes from the Palm, as if telling me what it is we are doing.
Pautuhm
Its word is not a true word, something more of a mishmash of syllables put together, but I don't argue.
Pautuhm it is.
Ether fills my lungs and loosens my chains as I weave Arbalests in my right arm, two feet, and hanging elbow on my left. Odd how the tables have turned. Now I have a right arm but no left one.
Bursting forward toward Sequester as he raises his Claymore, I swipe out my right arm to the side, having the long blade emerge from the outer part of its figure. Then, crouching as I see Sequester's eyes brim from his visor, I lean into the strike, knowing the Bloody Palm won't be broken.
It never has before.
And as I lean into his upward swing, headbutting his Claymore, I pivot my arm and stab the blade forged by Earl toward the Nahullo. His blade approaches my face at a blistering speed as they impact. I flinch from the strike only slightly as my vision goes black, not from pain but from bone and flesh covering it from the damage to my mask. I sway back from the impact.
But I still see from Sequester's eyes. I catch that his hands tighten in supreme force against the Bloody Palm's defense, the artifact constantly regenerating as he tries to dig into my face. And while his Claymore is gouging into and stuck within the element of my Pautuhm, I pierce toward his visor with the blade from my forearm.
The bronzed tip enlarges in his sight, but a gauntleted hand grasps my blade out of the air. Sequester's other hand, not on his Claymore, holds me still as he growls out a threat.
"Die, Wendigo. Your kind are abominations to life!"
Under my mask, I smile.
No one ever expects Earl's tricks.
Flicking a finger forward, I activate the handcannon hidden within my prosthetic palm. It's not as powerful as Earl's Coil due to him still researching a better mechanism for firing, but it packs a hell of a punch with extraordinary explosive power.
A resounding bang shakes my enhanced years as the handcannon fires out a pound of steel right for the Nahullo's face.
I even get to watch it hit him square in the jaw of his visor, and his vision goes similarly dark. Laughing at him as he removes his Claymore and holds his head, I wipe the broken bone, spilled blood, and shredded flesh from my mask. Gradually, light returns to my eyes as the Bloody Palm settles into this state more comfortably.
Across from me, I find Sequester as he tears a ruined and broken helmet off of his head. It was already partially damaged, but the point-blank shot of a cannon did the trick. The bad part is that he looks pissed, like kill a child pissed.
An echoing roar fills the hallway, bouncing off each and every wall continuously as the stale air swirls rapidly. The gales go from nothing to hurricane-level of intensity in a single second, leaving me to use Chainlink Boots and a Leash on a nearby pipe to keep myself still.
Worried for the wounded, I glance back. Behind me, Abraham has two Nightmares holding him and Bonfire to the ground, one with a net, the other with a hook. It works, but it's an apparent struggle. Meanwhile, around Sequester, I see Virgil holding himself still with dozens of Nightwhips. That's going to tire him out in less than a minute.
However, Sequester shows no signs of stopping. The wind only continues to rise. I need to reach him and stop him. I don't know what he's building to, but it can't be good. This wind must either be from his Sigil or his Power, and if he's developing to something, it can only be one thing at his status.
A Dzil.
Sighing, I know what I have to do.
Virgil can't move in this gale. Abraham and Bonfire are stuck in a corner. Earl is behind the wall. It has to be me to either meet him, slow him, or stop this production of power. And I'm running out of time.
I release the Insight for more spare Ether. Then, I Release my knees and ankles. The chains fade as I feel power rush in. At the same time, my Struggers Gasp is reaching a limit.
Taking a split second to mentally prepare myself, I gauge my opponent. And then?
I lurch forward, releasing my Leash and falling onto my right hand and legs, just as Edmund once did. Wind rushes over my form, less than before, but still enough to uproot a house. Gritting my teeth, I coat my hand made by Earl with Whetting, unwilling to spare the cost for Hone.
My hand digs into the stone below, stabilizing me partially. Then, I gaze upward, peering at Sequester. And he, too, stares at me, hate evident in his pupils. An unsaid meaning crosses from him.
I am better.
I don't reply verbally. Instead, I act.
Two Arbalest detonate simultaneously as I burst forward with Shaded from Adumbral obscuring my form, space seemingly contorting, as for the first time, with my senses bolstered by the Palm, I actually see my movement. Sequester raises his hand as I approach him, fighting against the squalls. And groaning from the pressure, the pain transmitted from my hand newly dug into the ground, I funnel the Ether from my Strugglers Gasp into each of my feet, splitting them evenly.
Then, I Arbalest again, traversing over three times the distance as the first, landing a foot from Sequester. I swing my arm for Lily, attempting to raise it to blast his face just as his hand opens, a spiraling vortex of air hidden within. Immediately, I evade, seeing the act as unilaterally deadly and knowing I am far too slow, but a squall behind me pushes me forward as he slams the vortex into my chest with a grimace.
"Die!"
