12 Miles Below
Chapter 45: Demi-gods

Atius glared up at the Feather. A complex balance of hatred, anger and cold calculation flickered across his face. “To’Aacar.” He said. “You’re in the way.”

The enemy, this man - or machine - named To’Aacar, tilted his head slightly to the side as if confused. The halo above him shifted sluggishly in response, slowly, floating through the air. “Did you think I wouldn’t? That I’d let you scurry away like a rat?” His voice was light, almost regal. The bearing like that of a sovereign, taking leisurely steps down, looking around the city before stopping a suitable distance away.

The man gave a lazily look behind him, to the massive blast door. “Really, not a single one of these second-rate shells thought to close up the obvious escape route. Too much of the old world architecture in their skulls. Not enough true intellect. The pale lady spends too much time playing with her food, if you ask me.” He paused for a moment, contemplating something. “You humans have a good saying about this, if I recall…..”

His left hand lifted out from under the black cloth shoulder cape - if it could be called a hand. Floating metal pieces that vaguely resembled a hand, chaotically moving on some invisible current.

That fragmented, claw-like thing held his chin, as if he were deep in thought. “Ah! I remember now! It went like this: If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” His voice dropped a few octaves at that last word, an omen of violence behind it, twisted deeply with annoyance and hatred.

“How are you here?” Atius asked. “I thought I’d left you to rot a continent away.”

The Feather laughed. “Distance is nothing to me, all I need is a body on the other end. But I’ll give you credit for the deception. Imagine my surprise on finding out this is where you’ve really been hiding all these years.” The voice reverberated around the metal city, magnified far louder than a human could. “The middle of nowhere. You should have sent me… what did the old humans call it? A postcard! Yes, that’s the term. Aren’t we old friends by now?”

The Deathless clearly didn’t rise to the bait. “Let the rest of my fireteam go, and I’ll stay behind to deal with you. I give you my word on it.”

The Feather smiled. “Always appreciated how quick on the uptake you were. I’ll give them until you die to make it through the door. Any that haven’t scampered through, I’ll kill. Any that get in the way, I’ll kill as well. If you can’t survive long enough for them to close the door, then they all die.”

“We’re in agreement.” Atius said. Turning to us, he gave his orders. “Fireteam, make your way by the sides. Sprint as fast as you can the moment I engage. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to assist me. Not even a bullet. Make your way through the door and trigger the full close. Leave me behind, find me topside.”

“It’s seven to one. Can’t we simply kill this piece of scrap and be done with it, m’lord?” Ironreach said to the side, hand itching at his blade hilt.

“That,” The Shadowsong prime said, pointing up to the machine man. “Is a Feather. You haven’t seen them before Ironreach, this is a foe on a different league. I’ve only seen two people fight them on even ground - and I am not one of them.”

“What Shadowsong means is the cost.” Atius said, “Aye, we could put this monster down if we all worked together. To’Aacar will certainly kill at least three or even all four of you before we bury the bastard however. I know him and I know what he’s capable of. I’d rather keep him focused on me and have the rest of you escape whole. I can return, the rest of you can’t. One relic knight lost down here is already too much.”

The Feather’s spear blade lit up bright occult blue, and he swung it around in a lazy arc. “Are you finished with your pets? Or should I eliminate the distractions?”

“I’m surprised a fight is all you still want after all this time.” Atius shot back, turning to him and taking a few steps forward ahead of our group.

“I am the one above all challenge and reach, Atius. It’s in the name. This is my nature. Did you think I care about anything else?”

“The pale lady truly sent you here for nothing else but your own entertainment?”

To’Aacar chuckled, an insincere sounding mockery of a laugh. “Oh, the pale lady has indeed given me a mission, all right. And that’s all you’ll get from me. I know those tricks of yours, Deathless.” The spear spun, and he leveled the tip down to the stone steps, point sinking into the rock with little issue. “I’m done talking. You’ve had over three hundred years to improve, don’t disappoint me.”

Atius didn’t reply. Instead, he lifted his blade and leveled it in a proper stance.

I recognized it. Father’s dueling stance.

The Feather smiled, a broad, wicked thing, full of malice. It leaned down and leaped forward. The sheer power behind those legs crushed the flooring in a ring around him as the machine champion exploded into action, flying the whole distance, a dust trail of crushed rock billowing behind his bare feet.

The fireteam instantly scattered, sprinting to the sides and getting out of the way, Kidra taking hold of my shoulder and shoving me forward while I gawked.

Atius responded in kind. Three ghostly occult-blue images of the man split off his body, dashing in different directions. His material body stepped forward, left hand extended out as if to catch the incoming Feather’s spear in hand.

The Feather slammed into the fight, striking a domed, transparent white shield extended out of Atius’s hand. The spear rang out at the impact with a single pure note in the air, a burst of wind scattering the dust around on impact. Atius withstood the blow as if he were an immovable mountain, occult blue pulsing across his armored arm.

It felt as if time had paused on contact. The Feather remained frozen in the air, all momentum stopped. The ghost images of Atius each converged on the Feather.

Violet eyes moved in that frozen sliver of time, taking sight of all ghostly threats.

It grinned, then used the shield like a wall to push himself back out of reach. With the additional space, the machine twisted under a spectral strike, blocked another with the pole of the spear, and lashed out to the third image before that ghost could complete its attack. It instantly faded away the moment the spear sliced through the chest, cohesion fading, bits of occult trailing behind the spear swing like mist. The other two ghosts faded as well, one after the other, without another strike attempted.

The machine had moved fast, even the wind billowed behind the machine’s wake. He dealt with all three mirror images in seconds.

Atius stepped forward into range regardless, executing a thrust and following with a series of strikes. The Feather countered the comparatively slow attacks from Atius - and then was forced on the defensive.

Each slice the Deathless took, a mirror image superimposed on his frame, taking a second additional attack from another orientation. Only the Feather’s ridiculous speed allowed him to deal with those conflicting attacks.

By the time I’d snapped back to my senses, the bout between the Demi-gods had reset. A clear draw on both sides as they took some distance from each other. The Feather licked his lips, leaned down and once more rocketed out to deliver another ear-shattering strike, spear easily telegraphed as he drew it high above his head, a wide and bloodthirsty grin stretched across his face, that black side-cape trailing behind him like smoke.

This time I couldn’t keep track of the fight as I’d sprinted past them on the side. The other relic knights all filed away up the steps, racing to the blast doors. Behind me, I heard the ringing of that spear, metal striking metal at furious speeds. Whatever the fight looked like, it made for a strange musical tempo of metallic clangs.

I had made it halfway to the entryway before my luck ended.

One instant, I was steadily racing across the steps, the ground blurring under me. The next, I’d found myself thrown high up. Flipping and tumbling uncontrollably a good dozen feet above ground. The landing was rough; Journey’s shields flared up to absorb the shock perfectly. I landed on my back and rolled over on my feet to see what happened.

A massive rip in the ground spanned from nearby the fight, as if a plow had torn a line through the stone steps in an unrelenting straight line. Dirt, gravel, and pulverized stone steps scattered on the sides of that new trench.

The two immortals continued to fight further away, and I saw how this line in the ground had come to be. Each strike of the machine’s spear now glowed bright occult blue, causing a massive crescent of light to fly off in an arc. This pulse of power ripped through the ground as it flew in a straight line out.

The trench that had knocked me off my feet hadn’t been the first of such landmarks. There were at least five or six lines already ripped into the stone steps.

The Feather was using this to destroy multiple ghost images Atius used, angling himself so that the physical spear-tip would obliterate one, while the followup arc of destruction would catch another behind. The ghosts didn’t dodge, their attacks looked pre-determined, something the Feather was clearly aware of and making use of.

Atius grimly continued the assault, constantly striking, moving with efficiency and calculation. Ghost images forming up and leaping into action at every moment of the fight. Occasionally these ghosts would lance out and strike at nothing, likely sent out not to deal damage but to force his opponent’s position. Making certain dodges and movements unviable.

As for my predicament, it was quickly clear to me I’d been simply unlucky. One of those crescent attacks had struck too close by. What made me even more unlucky was simple physics - my armor was powerful and well equipped to take splash damage like this.

My scavenger backpack was not.

It had ripped open, spilling out the last of my tools, my faithful crowbar clinking loudly as it hit the stone ground a few times with quick spins. I’d have mourned the loss of my beloved tool, but I wasn’t exactly torn up about leaving it behind in exchange for living.

What I had a much more vested interest in was the yellow sphere Atius had entrusted to my safekeeping. That tumbled out into the open, rolling on the steps before getting stuck on the sides of one of those blasted out rock lines, wedged into the debris.

I was debating on how to grab it back, but Kidra had been closer and needed no prompting. She was already on the intercept course, her own scavenger bag ready in one hand while the other was reaching out to scoop up the orb.

She’d almost made it before a deafening explosion came from the fight and the Feather flew across my vision, landing hard into the steps in a hasty crouch, even needing his other hand to steady himself.

The manic grin he wore turned into a frown when he noticed her in the way, as if she were a fly in his presence.

With a derisive snort, the Feather stood back up, and struck out with the spear from right to left, lighting quick, batting away a nuisance. The ridiculously fast blow caught Kidra by surprise. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ NʘvᴇlFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Winterscar’s shield flared up, taking the blunt of the strike on the chest plate and leaving her armor unmarred, forcing her back a step to stay steady. Journey’s HUD showed a massive dip on Winterscar’s profile. That blow had nearly knocked all her shields.

The Feather clearly expected this. Just as quick, twisting on himself to spin around, he’d already lined up another attack before even checking the impact of his first. The second followup struck Kidra’s back, battering her down onto her knee from the sheer force, Winterscar’s shields flaring up again and shattering with a flash of blue light. I heard Kidra gasp as the hit knocked the wind out of her. Both hits had come one after another, as fast as a second for each. Another twist and the third hit was rapidly approaching as an underhand chop, going right for her throat and chin.

Kidra’s reflexes kicked in.

She leaned back, looking straight up, right as the spear passed clear by narrowly avoiding her neck.

The Feather gracefully redirected the attack, this time turning it into a horizontal strike, aiming for her throat again. She ducked the blow, avoiding the slice while retaliating with a sweeping kick in the same motion, and then executed a blind tackle.

To’Aacar easily jumped over the kick but found himself in a terrible position to avoid the followup tackle, forced to take on the shoulder full blow and get thrown backwards. On landing, he growled and cleaved through the air with the spear, a massive crescent of blue slicing through the air and racing out. Kidra slid under the attack once more, free hand reaching out to the golden orb, snatching it off the ground.

It flared bright yellow the instant she took hold of it, the glowing light pooling up to her wrist, flowing around in a way it hadn’t when I or Atius had held it.

She stopped in her tracks. Whatever the effect was, it had been jarring. More than just a change in color intensity. Kidra had excellent combat discipline, she should never have stopped moving in the middle of a fight.

In that pause, To’Aacar readied his long spear once more, winding it back for a full arc.

Only to have a thrown crowbar crash directly into his face, interrupting the attack.

The blow had hit him hard enough to force his entire head to tilt back, even parts of his body moving with the shock. The sound of metal on metal rang out as the crowbar flew off to the side, clearly bent.

Slowly, the Feather turned his head to stare in the attack’s direction, with a look of utter hatred. Directly at me.

“You dare challenge me?” He hissed.

I’ll admit. Throwing a glorified stick of metal at the living embodiment of machine death wasn’t my brightest idea to date - and boy have I had a laundry list of bad ideas to date - but it had a sort of rural panache I felt proud of. The last job of my trusted and prized tool had been to bonk the head of a demi-god in order to save my sister. A fitting way to say goodbye.

Journey had made the toss perfectly accurate, empowering the throw with relic powered speed. That should have ripped a chunk out of concrete or caved in anyone’s skull. Somehow the Feather didn’t seem harmed at all by the attack, more insulted.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention!” I yelled back, already sprinting away. “Consider it a free lesson!”

Oh, that didn’t do me any goodwill. But the extra seconds of time I’d bought had been enough for Kidra to shake herself out of that trance and get back into action. She sprinted away, bag sealed shut and no trace of the glowing orb anywhere.

The Feather growled out something unintelligible, not even noticing as she ran off, all eyes on me. Probably contemplating the most painful way to squash a human.

The only issue to that plan of his: I’d bought enough time for myself as well.

“Here’s the follow-up lesson.” Atius’s voice rang out, directly behind the Feather.

To’Aacar instantly turned, spear leaping into a defensive stance.

An arc of occult blue ripped through the ground right at the Feather. The same ability Atius had used to clear out the machines at the bunker entrance only turned vertical, likely to avoid hitting anyone but his target. It was still far enough away for the Feather to have ample time to step to the side and avoid the attack.

Time Kidra and I put to good use.

The clan lord had just tossed out his version of a crowbar so we could get away. Great guy. By the time the wave of force had passed by, we’d already had booked it safely away.

The Feather glanced back, contemplating on chasing after us or dealing with the rapidly approaching Deathless. Atius didn’t give the Feather a choice, leaping out with relic powered speed.

Annoyance flickered through To’Aacar’s features. He parried the first blow with a derisive snort and the two began once more to trade hits.

There were no more ghosts this time. Atius’s features showed only an impassive and expressionless look. The difference were his eyes. They glowed bright occult blue, leaving trails in the air as he moved.

The Feather’s own expression turned from arrogance to worry, and then to outright fear. He narrowly avoided decapitation no less than three times, with each of its counter attacks parried or deflected with contemptuous ease. Which was an extremely jarring sight, as the Feather could - and did - move at least twice as fast as Atius could. Some of these strikes seemed too fast for me to even see them except as an afterimage in my mind’s eye. And yet Atius was holding his ground, catching each attack and forcing To’Aacar further back.

I don’t know how to describe what I saw. Atius’s movement was simply perfect. Every strike, every parry, every feint and dodge, all of it.

The machine stopped any attempts at attacking, focusing on putting distance between itself and the Deathless.

“Get through the door!” Atius shouted as he chased behind the Feather.

Kidra and I didn’t need to be told twice. Both of us were nearly there. The rest of the knights and the Shadowsong scavengers had already made it through the entryway. I could see them all, waiting for the two of us to make it through before triggering the door to close.

The ringing of blows resumed behind us, and I chanced a glance as I ran.

Atius’s eyes had stopped glowing, and his fight had returned to using ghost images in combination with his transparent dome shield from his hand to keep the faster Feather on even ground.

It wasn’t enough.

In a flurry of blows, the Feather had sneaked a hidden knife and stabbed deep into Atius’s leg while simultaneously ducking under a horizontal decapitating strike.

To’Aacar took a few casual hops backward, putting some distance between them and resetting the fight. “Seems it’s over now, old friend.” The Feather taunted. “Last words?”

Atius limped back into a measured stance. “Your name is meaningless. You’re not above my reach.” He said. With his free hand, he traced out a hand signal at the same time.

Catch.

The Feather laughed, then sneered. “You forget your place.” He leaned down and leaped out once more with speed, flying in a direct line with the wounded Deathless.

Atius didn’t extend his hand out to block the strike with that shield of his. Instead, he lunged and struck at the same time, a ghost image already forming to deliver an additional swing.

The result was catastrophic.

The spear punched through both his relic armor’s shield and plating, stabbing straight through his chest and out the other side, spilling the ground with his blood.

It had cost the Feather, however. While To’Aacar had twisted at the last second to avoid the incoming thrust, and the ghost image at the same time, Atius’s sword instantly redirected from that thrust into a blind downward swing, striking the Feather’s right hand - and slicing completely through.

The occult surged, a pulse expanding out of that blade edge, reality warping around as it cut. I felt it once more - that soul pulse - this time a feeling of something being ripped apart. Far tamer than what had happened to Winterscar, but no less noticeable.

The Feather’s reaction was immediate. It twirled to the side, grabbing the spear with the remaining left hand, using a leg to both pull the spear and kick Atius away.

The machine glanced at the cut off stump, bewildered. It didn’t bleed. “What is this sorcery, Deathless? What have you done to me?”

Atius stood painfully back onto his feet. “Maiming you.” A cold and vicious tone lingering in the air with his words, blood lining his grin. “I told you. Your name is meaningless. Now, everyone can challenge you.”

Those words cut the Feather far more than anything physical. The machine looked dazed, almost confused.

Atius lifted his sword once more and then hurled it at the Feather in one last gambit. The move was unfortunately slow and predictable. To’Aacar took a step to the side with contemptuous ease, almost on reflex. The thrown sword hadn’t even been triggered, no glow of the occult cutting edge appeared.

The blade flew by the Feather, missing him completely, and continued undisturbed on its real trajectory - Directly to me, where I stood the closest, behind the closing doors in safety.

I extended my hand out to the incoming weapon. “Journey!” I called out, trusting it would understand. My armor didn’t fail me, taking control and snapping out my hand as the relic blade flew by, yanking it perfectly out of the air by the hilt.

To’Aacar turned to gaze in my direction, a look of realization stretching across his features as he glanced from his cut arm to my shadowed figure. The door continued to close.

He took an addled step in my direction, cut hand raising out, as if trying to grab me across this distance with a missing hand.

Instead, two arms grabbed the machine from behind and forced the Feather into the ground. Atius’s weight shoved the creature down into the steps, blood still spilling from his wounds onto the pristine white cloth of the machine.

The Deathless grabbed its head with one hand, fingers digging into the white hair, lifting the stunned creature’s face up.

And then he slammed it down into the stone steps; full force.

The rock shattered to pieces under the blow. That metal halo bounced away, falling flat on the ground. Atius lifted the head once more.

The Feather’s left hand let go of his spear and snapped up to claw the man off him, but Atius simply grabbed that with his free hand, as if already expecting the attempt, locking it in an iron grip.

Once more To’Aacar’s head was lifted high, forcing his body to arch up, and Atius slammed it down into the steps with the full crushing force only a relic armor could provide, again and again. The Feather spasmed, flailing around in an attempt to free himself. Chips peeled off his face, and each slam exposed more. The strikes pulverized the stone, cracks spreading in all directions.

On the fifth, the Feather jumped instead with a scream of incoherent fury. It carried Atius up with him, spinning in the middle of the air, throwing the Deathless off.

Atius hit the ground hard but still rolled on his side and got up. The Feather landed softly, almost soundlessly ahead in comparison, and immediately raced across the steps to intercept, the remaining uncut hand held in a straight open palm, like a dagger.

Atius batted the attack aside, throwing out his own counter punch and a followup knee. They fought hand to hand, a complex set of attacks, blocks and feints interwoven.

The clan lord had taken too much damage. Already his stance alone was faltering, his speed and accuracy draining away as black-shaded blood now heavily painted the steps. The machine scored more and more glancing hits and the fight was rapidly devolving against Atius.

Without warning, it all came to a sudden end.

Feather had found an opening and struck at the face, stunning the clan lord. With that dagger-like hand, the followup attack sped out, stabbing clear through his throat, in and out in an eye-blink.

Atius stumbled back, blood gushing out of his neck as he faltered down onto a knee. One hand lifted to his throat by reflex in a failing attempt to stem the blood loss. The Feather took a step forward. Atius let go and attempted one last lunging attack. To’Aacar caught the punch by the wrist, then used his knee as a fulcrum to snap the elbow. The Feather twisted him around immediately after, slamming a clawed hand directly into his heart.

There was no pain on Atius’s features. Instead, he gave one last bloody grin. No words said, his smile enough to say it all.

The Feather dropped his body as if he burned to the touch with a scream. Then it turned to the closing door.

Too late. The gate was long past the point that anyone could fit through it now. Only a crack remained, a vertical slice to view the world from.

To’Aacar still sprinted, covering ground at a fighting speed, reaching forward with that hand of floating metal parts right through the open window of space, colliding hard against the gate unable to fit more than the arm through the rapidly closing entry.

“You.” He snarled, voice gaining intensity and insanity with each word. “You think you’ve won? Tell Atius he hasn’t seen the last of me. None of you rats have. Wait for me. WAIT FOR ME! WAIT FOR M-”

The door slammed shut, cutting his words.

The last I saw was one baleful violet eye glaring back at me, deranged and filled with hatred. Parts of his skin cracked off in flakes, a hand covered in blood still pointing at me, as the gigantic doors sealed. Grinding the metal wholesale starting from the shoulder up to the fingers, crushing them into scrap. They almost danced as they broke apart, the cohesion keeping them afloat going wild, losing any resemblance to a hand.

The door sides pressed and entombed all pieces between them. Leaving only the grand, sealed doorway as one massive mural.

Silence and darkness remained.

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