Made Monster

The older man amongst the two burst into a cackling laughter, surprise not even shown on his face to my survival. My teeth grind together as my heart, or Blodwyn beats with a furious thunder. I see Ryder glare at his father before raising his Colt back to me again, his hands bloodied and broken from firing it before.

But as the organ in the center of my body accelerates, Painsforge gains a new lease on life. From the few hundred in a minute we once were able to achieve, I now count almost twenty beats in a single second. And the instant the organ clutches itself the last time in that second, my surroundings vibrate from the power of my heart.

Maddox steps back with a smile, placing his arms behind his back as his son visibly panics. A shocked gasp leaves his mouth as he fires at me, but time slows to my eyes, not to a crawl or frozen like Liberation would. Instead, I feel a sense of... life flow through me like a roaring tsunami.

My leg extends, pressing against the floor, as in the next instant, I crash through dozens of boxes, rolling until I land on my single hand and knees. The bullets of Falling Rain all miss me despite the fact he pulled the trigger before I moved.

I can't help but glance at my hand, amazed by the pulsing and extended veins that are tinged with a blackish-red. All the skin on my body is heating up from the motion within.

"Blodwyn?"

My lungs speak out a word to my partner as water, blood, and bullets come seeking me once more. Ryder isn't even really hurt yet. And yet... I've never felt more confident.

"Tsavuk."

Blodwyn groans a single word as the bone from my skull extends downward from my skull, encasing the entirety of my left arm and my upper chest. The single word shimmers the air around my lips, as if the very tone and pronunciation hold power, even within a mind. Then, like interlocked plates of bone, they cover me just as Adumbral once did. I didn't even realize the Bulwark was missing until now.

Without it, that first barrage might have killed me. It didn't catch any of the cannon-like rounds fired, but it sure did lessen the impacts. A sickle of blood stabs into my shoulder as I linger with confusion. However, I am pleasantly surprised to find the blade not manage to pierce through the armor of bone.

The force still follows behind it, though, and I stumble to the side while more water wraps around my limbs. Ryder attempts to prepare once more to execute me as he did before, but I—no, Blodwyn isn't the same anymore.

He's the only artifact I've ever seen capable of shifting his form from lances of flesh to a skull on my head. And finally, he's become my heart. Literally.

The potency of an artifact is near-directly correlated to its Sigil and what construct the artifact takes. Things like fingers and toes are the weakest, with hands and feet being slightly above that. The Bloody Palm was in the lowest echelon of artifacts.

Our synchronicity and compatibility are what made him so powerful beforehand compared to others. But between all the artifacts that are possible... the heart is the most potently disastrous. Even the Pale Cavity, the artifact commonly referred to as the most mighty in the world, is made of a heart.

I don't know what exactly about their form affects their powers or their Sigils. Still, as I feel the pure exhilaration and vitality running through me, even at the expense of Blodwyn's Ether, I realize something incredible.

This isn't a Sigil skill he's using; it's far from it. He's combining all his Sigil skills and taking advantage of my Painsforge and tough physique to push his Pautuhm further than ever before. This is no ordinary skill. I can sense it. He might not be entirely done with it as the time-slowing effects and the incredible speed are intermittent, but still...

Blodwyn, an Arca, has developed a Dzil.

Now, it might not be the same as artifacts, which don't possess the limits that humans do. The requirement to call something a Dzil is that it reaches the boundaries of what humanity is capable of with Ether control. But, it is still expected to call any skill that resembles this level a Dzil. After all, even the Sigil skills granted from being Angels rarely compare to things such as these.

My thoughts flow like a raging hurricane, sped up by whatever Blodwyn is genuinely doing to my body. All I can hear is the rhythmic and robust beating of my heart. The blood courses through me endlessly, without pause, and with such incredible speed I worry I'll break from inside.

I already have, though. Whatever my partner has done, he has fixed it to this degree of might.

Another sickle, one of the dozens after our fight restarted, flings around, sinking into the back of my skull while I'm distracted. I stumble forward, but the blade still doesn't puncture. I curse myself for the diverted attention, but I honestly can't help it.

This is such a big thing that I can only imagine the possibilities.

Nevertheless, I have to hold them for later.

Because Blodwyn is rapidly tiring. Whatever he is doing, he cannot do for long. And whatever it is that he is doing is making my Ether flow smoother, like that of a peaceful stream ordained to follow my orders.

I kick forward with an almost instantly formed Arbalest as I feel something building within. It's odd and bizarre, almost impossible to describe. A tingling sensation, not unpleasant, not uncomfortable, but simply there, like a watchman.

My focus remains partially on the sensation in a guard of what it might be as I flex my arm forward, allowing a sickle to crash into it. Once more, the blood doesn't puncture. It only manages to chip off some of the armor.

Ryder becomes visibly worried for his safety as he darts away, leaping up into the many razor wires. The moment he does, those many wires move, barring the one he uses for balance. They slink away, shooting for me as dozens attempt to poke me through.

I dodge many with hints of Shiver, moving me from the ones that would get through the chinks in Blodwyn's Tsavuk that leave my eyes open. But I can't avoid them all. Several of them stab through my unarmored legs, resolving to nail me to the inside of the ship.

One only manages to slow me before I rip it out, maneuvering my Ether to replicate Blodwyn's skill. I don't even know what he calls it or what it is called, but my flesh twists and mends, closing the wound before I even finish my next step.

However, two gouging into me simultaneously freeze me in my place for a short moment. In this instant of weakness, many more follow. Dozens enter my legs and leave me trembling. But even with all the holes in my foundations, I don't fall.

Blood falls in clumps all over, but I replenish it with gritted teeth. Blodwyn is too focused on his new skill. He hasn't yet learned how to multi-task with it. Not that I blame him. Whatever he is doing has many moving parts between the bone, the blood, and the flesh.

As I gaze up at Ryder, I find the man hanging from a wire with one hand as he aims his Lumen at me once more. This weapon is genuinely quite the addition to this man's arsenal. Again, I raise my arm, blocking my skull and eyes as he fires.

But this time, unlike all others, the fusillade of cannons that leaves the barrel like falling rain doesn't leave me on my knees. Only four shots even perforate into my flesh, the rest breaking off the bone shielding me.

I slide backward on the wooden floor from the impact before surging forward, breathing in deeply as I finally reengage with the battle fully. I've been out of it, too impressed and immersed in the feeling of Blodwyn growing stronger.

But as I see Ryder's face brighten up in alarm, I force the tips of my boots into the wood beneath me. Splinters and cracks disseminate from where I stand as my heartbeat empowers me from every modicum of pain.

He frantically reloads his weapon as I see the blood and the water around me combine, becoming something more extraordinary. It slowly shifts into a kind of humanoid creature with two arms and a lower body that extends along the ground.

Ryder doesn't command it verbally, but it quickly rushes for me. It is almost entirely silent as it moves, besides the sound of streaming liquid, and it raises an arm for me just as I finish my preparations.

Inhaling deeply, I let Strugglers Gasp fill my lungs once more, eradicating the wires of blood around me. At the same time, the Ether in my legs from Release reaches a breaking point. Advancing to the 6th Sigil reduced the limit on what I could Release at once, allowing me to use the skill on the totality of my legs.

As Ryder's creation flings a volley of watery blood at me, I unleash the pent-up force in my legs. And in an instant, I soar through the air toward Ryder. The intermittent nature of Tsavuk reignites as time slows once more.

I can see the man's eyes flicker back and forth, searching for any way to not die. But he doesn't find one before I catch him. I wrap my bony fingers around his face, clenching tightly as flesh, bone, and blood spew from his head. The man isn't dead yet, and time moves at an average pace once more.

He stabs his own hand toward me, the entire broken thing bursting out into an explosion of blood and gore that digs into my flesh while water slides beneath my grasp, attempting to free him. More wires sink into my flesh, but I rotate my body using the wire he's suspended from.

I let the insides of my knee grip the wire, the blood grinding into me deeply. But as it does so, Ryder continues to struggle, only he isn't strong enough to free himself or kill me before doing so. I wrench my arm back, letting it fall far behind me, and as an extension, Ryder, too.

However, he doesn't fall yet. Watery tendrils hold him to the wire as he beats against me in vain. He even fires another round of Falling Rain into my chest with almost no effect on my innards, the bone-like overcoat seizing most of it. His panic and frenzy outspeed me only because the impact of Blodwyn's Dzil is still sporadic.

Yet, the moment I fling my arm forward to throw him to the ground, everything slows again. I can practically feel the pieces fall into place for Blodwyn. My heart—our heart, exceeds a thousand beats per minute and stabilizes at that level for more than just a single second.

Using all the strength I can muster and forcing the entirety of my Strugglers Gasp into the act with the armored arm that has replaced the Bloody Palm, crackling under the effort as the Arca himself groans from exertion to keep my heart beating, I hurl Ryder toward the floor.

A quake rocks the ship from its anchor, and I watch with shocked eyes as Ryder breaks through floor after floor, crashing beyond almost a half dozen different levels before stopping wholly. The impact leaves me reeling and out of breath, so I release the grip of my legs and fall toward him.

The time it takes to reach him from the pull of gravity takes far longer than I'm used to. My brain must be moving at incredible speeds for that to be the case. Regardless, I make contact with the ground.

My feet hit the floorboards of the lowest level, water flowing in from the cracks in the bottom, doing little against the tough material beneath me. Only as I gaze at Ryder do I understand just how badly I flung him.

His legs and arms are all bent in the wrong places, blood seeping out from him all over. The man, if he were any other Sigil other than an Occultist Angel, would already be dead. Yet, he still breathes. Wretched and brutal inhales, tinged with awful whines, fill the air.

My heart sinks at seeing him like this. I didn't want to... break him. It just feels... wrong. Killing him is one thing... but this?

So, I step forward and reach toward his hip. The fingers of bone made by Blodwyn brush against Lily as I hold her in my palm once more. The Colt sings praises of thanks as I can't bear to hear them at the moment.

I stare at Ryder, the man's hollowing eyes meeting mine. He wasn't at all how I expected. Deceitful, but not arrogant. Serious, but in no way mocking. Strong, but not by raw power. There was an elegance to his style, a coordination that I wasn't expecting.

He hardly even got to use his Power, that creature. I'm sure it devours through his Ether saturation based on the might it showed, but with Blodwyn's Dzil, I was simply too swift.

I raise Lily's barrel to meet him, wanting to accomplish the goal of raising her to a new level. As I do so, a pair of feet land beside me. Water gathers around boots as if heeding the call of their master, but Maddox doesn't strike me as the liquid practically worships his presence.

He only stares at Ryder's broken body. For a split second, I think I see some compassion, some guilt, or perhaps even some remorse, but that all quickly fades away behind a mask of cruelty and laughter. I sigh as I realize Maddox might, in fact, be this awful of a man. Some of me hid hope he wasn't that bad, even if it was terrible for me, but he here is.

Even in my slowed perceptions, his movements are swift, and his words are only slightly delayed.

"It would appear he was not up to the challenge of sailing the Endless. Talented, but not enough. The Godly must be ordained, after all. Finish him, Graves. Put him out of his misery and failure. I don't wish to see him any longer."

I pull the trigger not because of his order. I don't even do it to elevate Lily. I do it in pure spite of what this man was forced to become for a father who didn't even care in the end. All this was for... what?

For one of his children to become a God? To sail the endless seas beyond the horizon? To explore that which had not been seen? So stupid.

A sense of physical loss burrows into my bones as a river of darkness covers me wholly. Yet, I am already healed, so much of the river falls back into me, returning some of what I had lost, courtesy of Lily. She apologizes to me, but I don't respond verbally. I give her a silent nod as thanks.

Instead, as time returns to normal, Blodwyn sputters and is unable to keep the Dzil up any longer, even after using Burdenless. I kneel beside Ryder's body.

Down here in the depths of the ship, it is only Maddox and I.

I glare up at him, uncaring of the challenge it might give to the captain.

"Are you truly that heartless? Do you not hold even an ounce of care? Of love?"

I watch Maddox's face twitch in some unknown emotion, his eyes flickering to Ryder for only a moment. Then, the older man sighs.

"I once did. Long ago. Many... many years ago. I lost so many people that I gradually lost my voice to scream. So many loves fell to my enemies that I gradually lost my tears. I once grieved for many years, for many times, but gradually, I became one with my sea. I had once felt joy, genuine happiness, but gradually, the waves turned calm."

Maddox's pupils fall onto me, the tempests, storms, and rushing waves within pulling me deep. He doesn't move, but his words tell a story that I feel every current of.

"You have lived a short life. One where you were coddled and loved. Amongst all the Pillars, amongst all of humanity, I am the only man born with nothing and no one to reach such a stature as mine. Even... Desolation was forced to respect me on my waters, birthed from the greatest clan of all. I fought for every single scrap of strength, every morsel of power. It was constant bloodshed until I was forty from the time I could walk."

Maddox breathes deeply, his head turning up as he stares unto the sky far above. Ruptured and splintered wood follows the path to the sky, splitting the sunlight into rosy streams. I can see he finds no joy in doing so, only that it is something he is accustomed to.

"When I was born, there were many islands in these waters. Bandits, pirates, and scum of every race gathered here for treasure and mayhem. They'd rape, pillage, and burn anything they could come across. Once, I was a small boy forced to fight on their ships, but eventually, I became my own captain. Then... I joined them, knowing no other life. My power rose and rose, blood following every act, but it was never enough. Never. There was... always that man above. The lingering shadow you know as the Wastelander."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but he lifts his hand, not in threat, but warning. I clamp my mouth shut as he finishes his words.

"Eventually, I submitted to him. I had no other choice, and he had me clear out all the non-humans in these waters. Pygmies... Nahullo... demons. Unlike most others, we were... not racist here. My first wife was a demon, and my second was a Nahullo. The children from them were sent out. I haven't seen those from the first in a long, long time, and those from the second... ever. In this world, Graves, kindness is not allowed for those who come from nothing. It is better my children die early than live to become me. If they do not have the power to change the world, they don't have the power to do anything meaningful other than suffer. Still... I let them try. I let them try their damnedest. That is the only thing I can do for them."

Maddox quiets after his long monologue, and I don't pipe up with anything. It's a whole lot to take in. Maddox's wives weren't human? He... had to kill them?

I don't believe it's right for your children to die if they, as he put it, do not have the power to change the world, but who am I to argue with him? I'm not a father. And... his story lines up. No other Virtue in history has ever come from such a low-born family. Eli Weiss is the closest it comes to, but even then, his family was one of grand merchants, alchemists, and blacksmiths.

My eyes return to the man dead at our feet, killed by me only a moment ago.

"So you feel no anger toward me?"

Maddox shakes his head, his apathy clear as day.

"No. You only did what would have happened eventually. Ryder was... clever and strong, but he was not enough. He would have failed in the end."

I feel profound relief, knowing that he doesn't harbor any grudge against me, but it still hurts. That... carelessness. What has he been through?

I've rarely stopped to think about the people like him. Those who have reached great heights without any legs to stand on. No one to train them. No one to guide them. No one to care for them.

I suppose my ancestors were all like that as well. From what I've heard, Graves are rarely even raised by their parents, typically left to fend for themselves. At least I had Aniwye.

My hand touches Ryder's eyes as I close them, asking a final question as that burgeoning feeling in the back of my head grows.

"So, do you think I, too, should just die? That there is no point in my living?"

Marshall shrugs. He points at his dead son with a warning.

"All those you care for will become him, eventually. Either killed by your hands, directly or indirectly. You will either be too weak or not enough. If you're lucky, you'll be chained to someone stronger after watching them all die. If you're unlucky... You might just be forgotten by time."

Is that so?

Maybe he's right.

But... I don't think he is.

I killed an Angel as a mortal. According to all others, I am a monster. And monsters... they don't follow the same rules as others.

My safety and the safety of those I care for should be in no one's hands but my own. I don't want to be controlled or held down like Ryder and Autumn are. I don't want to be relied on anyone for my life. I want to be... I want to control my own chains. I will not die like this. I won't become this apathetic.

I will... I will be so powerful that none can hold my chains. None will tell me what to do. I will do as I please, protect those I want, and change things as I want.

I tighten my fist and stand, turning to face him as a brilliant, multicolored light appears in my hand. I stare at it in shock as I feel something break inside me. It's near-impossible to determine, but the light... I feel such a deep pull that I'm physically wrought forward.

Maddox's awe surpasses even mine, his voice stuttering and raw. He even struts forward, reaching for it before ripping his hand back in genuine fear.

"I never thought I'd see it again after Desolation's ascension. The Law Of Resonance."