Liaison

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

In possession of cracking clench, he held on the fibula of a skeletal warrior with his own teeth. By his standards, this endless battle had already turned barbaric in nature. He did what he needed to in order to survive as he was scrambling, laying waste to several of the undead with his FMG-9 firearm, only once again to be swept off his feet by the resurging dead from below. Clashing instantaneously above his head was the skull of an undead warrior and the powerful blade owned by The Traveller. Easily the head of the monster was cleaved in two and the puss-filled, maggot infested remnants of what it called its brain spilled. Taking that opening, Sciaac used his upper right appendage and gripped the skull before him, literally tearing its frame apart with its dual clasp of its lower spine.

Promptly gathering himself, he rose to his feet, giving a nod to The Traveler as he did not need to help but he did. Sciaac was accustomed to being alone on most if not all of his previous endeavors. The notion of help he was thankful for, but it sparked a bit of unhealthy intrigue on his part. Who was this individual? Why did he help him? Why was there such an influx of warriors here period? Is there something they were after. Considering the situation, there wasn’t much time to inquire. Leaping with great nimbleness, he managed to dive down the stairs for temporary safety after running down the cleared path.

Now standing tall, Sciaac winced a bit, cracking his neck freehand. A little banged up he was, but for the most part, he felt par. Progressing forward seemed to be the only option so regardless of how he felt he’d have to endure. Despite what he just witnessed, a sense of exhilaration began to stew within.

Sea of Ignominy

The root of shame is not personal, it is the ignominy, and the humiliation felt when we must be what we are without any choice in the matter. This humiliation is seen by everyone. Though many rejoiced, the Val’gara would never become what they were destined to be and in many ways, this was sad. The aspiration of assimilation was over. In the eyes of the Disciple, the ideology of Idea was just one, never to be fulfilled, at least not anymore. The ambition, never to be rekindled again was slain even before the death of Colossus. In her place, Caorthannach remained. As stubborn as she was, she knew. The will of the daughter was not the mothers, but in her mourning, she tried anyway. Though morally incensed, she would fail. They all would, as long as they continued to fight, but this was the only future ahead of them. This was now…

Though dishonored, the double-layered words of Disciple subsisted. Megalodon heard these words. The multiple entendre of messages veiled within Disciple’s speech placed his against Amphiprioninae’s. With this, the shark no longer knew who was right. He was distressed, troubled, confused even. With two feuding voices in opposite corners of his head, he couldn’t take it, completely abandoning the Brainscramblers, leaving them to be dealt with by the vaporizing blast. No one could see where he was after it's mad dash across the continent, but the mouthpiece understood exactly what was to be done. The indidious seed planted by him stirred a conflict that interfered with the foundation of the symbiotic pair’s relationship. Amphriprioninae could not calm the shark; he could not influence him in the slightest. He could not control Megalodon.

His words affected one side of the herald’s mind but Disciple occupied the other. In this instance, it was unclear to Amphriprioninae why Disciple even allowed him in as he was revitalized, undistracted and strong, but the answer was quite clear. In Megalodon’s confused state, like a trapped animal he was, he would do anything to escape. Anything ironically, as Disciple understood, could only lead to one thing. With his strategic twisting of the knife, the shark's mental torment continued. The cerebral tug of war had to end and it would find a way.

Clenching the dome on its head, Megalodon let out a roar that exhibited great pain, confusion, and misery. This was not what he or they were supposed to be. Made to fight, born for war. He wanted to be great. He wanted to carry out Idea’s will. He wanted above all else to do as he was designed to but never had he the opportunity to so. His potential would go unfulfilled. His introspection led him to understand the unfair reality before him, adding to his already heightened hysteria.

The marine monster's claws scraped against the container, digging into the perceived glass of the bowl. With a yank capable of tugging a mountain, he pulled the bowl from his partner’s psychic grip. Looking into the cold eyes of Amphriprioninae, the creature only sought to rid himself of the mental battleground that was his mind. He needed silence and upon the shattering of the bowl, he received it, submerging himself into the depths of the dimension within. A literal ocean that felt welcoming. One that shielded him from the reality the Herald sought so hard to escape from. An ocean in which allowed him to be free. And there, he slept, perhaps to never be awoken again...

In his wake, only a puddle remained.

Sea of Ignominy

What the disciple of Idea expressed was correct. “No one has ever wished to help the Val’gara and not become one,” but in reference to the intrinsic nature of the Val’gara, no one has ever had the luxury of choosing. Throughout history, they had one mission, one goal, and one purpose. When were they ever complacent in any venture? The dependence on other races needed to end. It could all be solved with one action, one decision, and one order.

Turning back to the creature that symbolized the mouthpiece, Megalodon and his counterpart were mystified. Not because he should have been slain, but because they were torn. Before Caorthannach there was the Disciple, but in this instance, he overlooked the meddling nature of a literal demon. This was incomprehensible. Who should the duo pledge their allegiance to? They should not have to choose. In one final outcry, Amphriprioninae spoke out of exasperation.

“Disciple, can you not see? Can you not sense the foulness in intent the oozes from each pour of his devilish body? No need to leave it to chance. There should be no reason why you don’t take this fiend and bring him to your knees, bend him to the will of Idea and reconcile your sins by giving the control of the Val’gara back to us. Take control as only you can. With four heralds by your side, call upon the first unified harvest since Idea abandoned us. It is our will, it is our destiny. We must take Soran!”

Whereas the fish eagerly awaited a response, Megalodon appeared to be withholding some sort of pain. There was a clear sense the creature was holding something in. The stress, the strain, it was getting to him. His suffrage was in fact choreographed by his partner in attempt to gain footing. A disturbance was present within the belly of the marine beast. The void within him housed an array of things. Many of which, were gathered throughout his journey through colossus’ core. A school of once-dormant cnidarian invertebrates received the signal they had been searching for.

Megalodon opened his maw to considerable lengths, regurgitating an upsurge of living organisms. Amphriprioninae retrieved a sea of Val’garan Brainsramblers from his counterpart’s stomach. There was nothing, and then there were at least thirty of these jellyfish surrounding the Herald in an instant. The Brainscramblers in sync with his mind quickly gained a sense of the world and situation they were in. Due to their innate ability to locate sources of psionic and ethereal power, it made countering the rampant beasts more than manageable. Without delay, a powerful field in all directions projected within a ten-kilometer radius from the cluster, disrupting and distorting the psionic senses, abilities, and powers of everything unrelated to the hive mind. This part-ethereal part-psionic EMP whisked away all concentration Agron and Sarach could muster. Even if their attack did not fizzle away, they would lack the ability to get near Megalodon as a moving target. They or any other lingering entity would be able to properly target the duo. Even without their presence, at basis Megalodon was simply faster, and given his distance simply lead them on an endless chase.

"Caorthannach are you watching?"

No, Amphriprioninae was alone. And thus, the future of the Val’gara weighed on the disciple’s decision. He harkened to what was about to be said. Much alluded to an answer the fish did not desire to hear. Much alluded to tragedy… Much alluded to a transfer of power that would be felt across the entirety of the multiverse.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

The lanky creature twisted his body, loosening the buttons which held his drapes closed. With this, Sciaac revealed yet another bizarre thing regarding his anatomy. Folded across his chest were an additional set of arms strategically placed to maintain quick draw functionality in case of emergency. With these extra appendages, he would not draw his weapons, however. Instead, he’d maneuver on a pivot, slithering his way behind Arem, locking his arms in an iron clasp like grip around his chest from behind. “Do not be alarmed…” he spoke in a raspy but sophisticated voice. “I only intend to transport us the most efficient way…”

Using his upper limbs, the creature extended his arms onto a tall stone structure; digging his claws into it so deep it began to protrude on the inner steel. Pulling back, he worked to create tension and gradually he built it to an extreme magnitude. Gazing into the atmosphere, it was apparent the conditions were only becoming more severe, but his headstrong nature was on full display. Releasing his talon grip on the pavement, both he and Arem were whipped into the sky, immediately being pelted by intense winds and varying clods of moisture. Holding his body tight, they torpedoed into the haze, which obscured their vision, but kept them into a relatively straight path. When reaching their apex, Sciaac’s biosuit adjusted in compliance with his morphing body shape, allowing his webbed, wing-like limb connectors to glide them both a considerable distance. In not much time, they would reach their destination, although the duo was bound to regret it.

With the interfering winds, there was simply no way to make a gentle landing. “Brace yourself” was the only warning Sciaac could give, but even then he was blindsided by a light which unknowingly to him was a byproduct of necromantic energies. Realizing he was low to the ground, Sciaac dropped Arem about nine feet or so out of the sky before crashing several meters further down. Clenching his body unrealistically tight, the alien creature was able to minimize much of the collision with the earth. His rubber-like frame in combination with his biosuit, aided him greatly, though, his landing was far from graceful. He had another problem afoot.

Sciaacs fall sent him bowling into a portion of the undead horde. In some ways this worked in damaging a few, but overall placed the creature in unfavorable position. In the very early stages of being ravaged by the multitude of creatures, he could not help but scramble for a grip of one of his powerful firearms. Every other free limb was occupied in attempts to fend off a skeleton right on top of him. In the struggle, he was baptized in rotted, once hanging flesh all over his body and face, cascading him in an unbearable scent. He now reeked of a carcass. Much to his luck, he and his new found companion were close to the pillars entrance, but with as much progress as they made, in the end, it could all be for naught. Such is the nature of Rzail.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

Bonaparte

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

To say Sciaac actions were charitable was an understatement. He could have easily reacted in a hostile manner. All things aside, his usual short temperament had been curbed. After a deep breath, he closed his eyes. When releasing his hand after twirling it repeatedly, it snapped back, using all of the tension created to twirl as a buzz saw, tearing into the wall, slicing it with ease. Though he was prepared for otherwise, the action did serve to settle his anger. Now all that was left was to move forward. A pillar of great size had exposed itself. Bringing Arem to it could only answer some of his questions as well as providing another layer of safety. Who knows what or who will show up once, he began his investigation.

Without saying anything at all, he left the shack and began his search for a solid structure with height to potentially catapult from. It seemed he had a way to cut the travel time to a fraction of its former length. The question was would Arem be prepared for what he was about to propose?

“Through air. That is how we’ll travel.”

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

Arem raised his head, and with it caught the deathly stare of the individual in front of him. Sciaac’s bloodshot eyes gripping him with his unflinching stare and intensifying expression growing stronger by the second. Safe to say he was unamused in wake of Arem’s threats.

Sciaac’s upper physique tightened. In addition to being irked by the name Arem mentioned, it crossed his mind that further inspection might prove to be a waste of time. In response, he gripped his right wrist and began turning it. Whereas a normal individual would have broken their wrist, Sciaac did this over and over again with no signs of pain or then intention of stopping. His obsidian claws clanged off of each other, in efforts of tuning their sharpness.

Speaking in a surprisingly calm tone he gave the man his response. “I’m not dead, but you surely could be were you to threaten me again. I could help you find this individual you're looking for, I just need some coherence in your behavior here forward, Though, I have ways of progressing despite that.”

Before Sciaac could go on any further than that his spirits had been triggered. The unjustifiable rumblings, the influx of winds. Despite being some distance away, it was clear this was no coincidence. Should he turn and peer out of the roofless shed, all he needed to affirm his beliefs were there.

Hider

@Dark Light

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

These lands were vindictive to the soul. Even without proof, it was natural for the lanky creature to assume Arex was not always this way. If this breakdown occurred recently, perhaps he could be returned, but for now, it was in his interests to inquire about his abnormal anatomy. Arex’s bio-enhancements rivaled his own in terms of composition, though they were much less subtle. It just did not make sense how he was forced into this type of situation.

Stroking his chin, Sciaac opened his mouth to further question but within the man’s incoherent ramblings, he asked about a name vaguely familiar to the alien. That name, of course, was Karnorouri. The mention alone gave him tip of the tongue syndrome. Given Sciaac’s mental acumen, this was extremely uncharacteristic of him. His memory retention was off the charts. It was almost as if the thought of it had been wiped from his memory. He had to get answers, even by force if need be. His ship was not far. However, that was certainly a place individuals did not want to go if in bad standing with Sciaac Bonaparte.

“I'm afraid there's no "whiskey" or whatever you beings enjoy here that you speak of. That name you mention, however. In what way do you know this Karnorouri?”

Hider

@Dark Light

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

One might grow fond of solitude in Rzail. Others grow petrified of merely the idea. To be alone proved to be quite the gift and a curse. Out of sight was not always out of mind and often when the prospect of being alone set in, it proved to be a ruse. Traversing these nightmarish lands often questioned one's sanity, determination, and grit. Despite this, Sciaac arrived voluntarily. His stance was neither triumphant nor reeking of fatigue. He had been in this exact location before.

In efforts to better understand the psyche of other individuals, Sciaac had a habit of mentally evaluating and experimenting on inhabitants of the lands. There were times where Sciaac had the intent to exchange resources for research but he is not always so charitable. He had just begun to grasp empathy, though he remained relatively obtuse on the matter. When he saw fit, Sciaac had no qualms about adding to the longstanding trend of violence in Rzail.

However, in this case, he intended to have a peaceful encounter with a particular hermit of the land. In the approach to his shambled residence, Sciaac noticed a lack of livestock. He often gave the hermit just enough to survive in the anticipation that he would eventually consume the very creatures he valued but he never did. Not once did he give into greed but apparently things have changed. Since his last visit, it appeared that the old man had finally hit his breaking point.

His travels eventually brought his lanky alien frame to a shack the hermit was known to frequent. Lowering his head to enter the archway, he became witness to a fort of bodies with an individual in the center. Immediately, Sciaac was able to piece two and two together and realize what took place. The old man was a valued subject of his but the slaying of him was not enough to invoke his wrath. Instead, he chose to focus on the individual in front of him for who he appeared to be. He was someone who was simply trying to survive. He was someone who now had his interest.

With Sciaac boldly advancing towards the armed man, Arex would become aware of his astounding height and his influx of abnormal attributes. Would he be intimidated? The alien began his interrogation process regardless.

“Fate has had it that our paths have intertwined. In the future, this may prove to have been a delightful or unfortunate thing… I'll ask you now, why are you here?”

Hider

@Dark Light

Unsolicited Invasion (Earth-F67X Chronicle)

The gag-inducing anatomy of the Anathema was unruly. The smell of the abomination’s constricting tongue was enough to trigger the information broker’s gastroesophageal reflexes. Remnants of speckled trout, hair and stomach acids erupted from Merse’s throat in a clumped concoction of orange vomit and drool. Just like that, his upper attire was soiled. Disgusting.

The usually computing mind of Merse simply lacked focus. Despite errors, Merse’s kit of abilities had as much utility as the Herald. Instinctively activated by his aura, Merse’s fur became so slick that every mantis punch slid off to the side on contact. Their speed and strength had no impact whatsoever considering the coating elements of each property were unable to mix. As the situation progressed, he focused less on why and towards how? He was prepared to deal entirely with EarthF67x domestically but several obvious factors now inhibited his ability to do so. For a moment they would have to make do without him.

As convenient as it would be for Earthf67x, Merse was not the head of the chicken. They were more like a clump of worms. Living amongst Allure were many supernatural beings and species who were no strangers to conflict. Amidst the chaos, an individual was already planning its assimilation into this foreign society. Just a few blocks from Merse’s office, a brunette woman in a classic yellow day dress and cloche hat enjoyed a cup a coffee with who appeared to be a run of the mill paperboy. “Howard” she spoke. “I think its time we leave. The waitress ran out. I don’t think they care too much about the tab.”

“You’re right!” he nodded, before rushing to the door. If anyone was watching, they might have realized something was off. The calmness of their mannerisms when faced with citywide destruction was simply uncanny. Did they not fear death? Despite being very pale, she was considered the paradigm of beauty for period her style emulated. Her turquoise eyes were as stunning as they were rare. Quickly accompanying her was a taxi. Speeding around the cobblestone streets in a controlled dash, the car drifted perfectly into the corner she was at. The driver was large toadman wearing nothing but a tie and shirtless collar. It was questionable how he originally got into the car in the first place, but nevertheless, he was here.

Casually the two entered the back of the taxicab and without any words the driver took off, blasting his feet through the floor, propelling the car Flintstone style down the block. He soon leaped, wrapping his arms around the bottom of the open windows, bringing the car with him hundreds of feet into the air. Landing on the top of a building, this was the first stop. From there they could oversee the aftermath of the relocation efforts. Fire, explosions, the streets of Allure was a war zone. Sighing heavily, the woman put two and two together when she spotted the detective bombay clashing in the street. Only he could be the author of such unintentional chaos.

“Howard you stay out here and take the briefcase out the back. Give it to our friend.”

“Will do.”

There wasn’t much time to sightsee, as the toad hopscotched from roof to roof, transporting her to her destination in just over two minutes. Half of the commute was spent scaling a massive building similar in design to the Burj Khalifa. This building titled “De Haute Taille,” however, stood three times its size.

Once the car was high enough, the lady opened the door and jumped out, floating down into an open atrium Mary Poppins style. She quickly folded her umbrella after landing and walked into the production set readied for her. Here the mystery woman’s identity would be on full display. Her name was Margaret Iedereen.

“I'm not sure if there are other inhabitable planets in this star system. A planetary level signal should suffice. How’s my hair? Good? Ok, I’m ready for recording.”

The tower Margaret hosted her broadcast was built mainly to manipulate and send out frequencies of any magnitude on the intergalactic level. Considering it was now on earth, any technology within its planetary range was susceptible to influence. No harm was intended by the Sui generis powered engine, a fourth of the building was composed of. They could return to their normal scheduled programming later. She simply needed to get out a message and so she used one of Allure's, many resources to do so.

“Three, two, one. Aaaaand…. we’re live.”

"Well, hello” she greeted.

Approximately 70% of the media devices and all mobile projected the image of the woman. Some even turned themselves on and raised the volume to get the message out loud and clear.

“This might be a little strange but it isn't as bizarre in light of the other things going on!...hmmm, that was a bit sour in taste. Let me get point. I go by the name Margaret but you all can refer to me as Ms.Iedereen. I am here to run a little program of sorts in efforts to explain a bit of what’s going on. As you know, a foreign territory has suddenly appeared on your planet. I'm currently checking with my sponsors to find out exactly where but I suppose that's not too important. What's important is, we were unknowingly warped here so technically we mean no harm. So what's next you ask? I'll show you!”

Immediately, numerous shots of the chaos on Allure were played before her audience, including a detailed shot of Anathema running amok. The other shots documented the exchanges of the military and operatives in their exchange with the skilled inhabitants of Allure. Bound to draw attention were the shots of the endlessly growing army of platinum warriors, forming out of liquids from every sewage opening in the city. Being relatively impervious to most forms of damage, many of the soldiers were swarmed and immobilized after being swept by controlled tsunamis of platinum ooze. This was to solely to stop them from doing harm. Panident’s presence was all over the city, and eventually, a fog would overtake it in its entirety through the emission of “steam” from every inch of the ground. Suddenly, it began to become an overcast day.

“As you can see, a lot of unnecessary battles are being fought, but your soldiers are being spared when they can. With communication from your leadership, the conflict can end before moving into outer regions. Conflict is simply bad for business. At your command, we’ll simply give up. Yes, its that simple.”

As much as she championed for peace, this woman had far from clean hands. Her movements were suspiciously efficient, her engagements with others almost seemed choreographed, she was always protected. Her cult-like following worked like ants in devotion to their queen. You couldn’t pinpoint who was under her command. It was just wise to never bad mouth her. Information always got back to her. Unnatural forces were definitely afoot.

“I have influence over much of Allure but I'm afraid they won't listen to me and stand down if this attack on this beautiful city continues.”

If only Earth’s inhabitants knew exactly what she just hinted at. Not only was 30% of Allure’s population under her command, but they were practically apart of her. The retaliation of Allure's forces only equaled Earths for the time being simply because the majority of their moves were entirely choreographed by a single mind, calculating from every angle, encounter and using that foresight how to counter every move. Foul actions were definitely in play off-screen with the transmission of her body fluids strategically placed into many soldiers during engagements with the inhabitants she controlled. Her following was growing. If anyone was to survive this debacle it was her. Assimilation was in phase one.

“At the bottom of your screen, there's a 14 digit number you can call. luckily for you, intergalactic roaming charges aren't in effect! Go ahead. Try it. Very important people only, of course. I’ll answer personally…"

“Zip.” And just like that, a commercial for Prime Industries began playing.

-

Many of Prime’s resources couldn’t be disposed of with raw destruction. Many of the most valuable were hidden or laid with or within individuals. This much commotion was bound to draw many out and before the pair of brothers leading the assault, one appeared. Eddy’s message via loudspeaker began to phase out halfway through. The sound became muffled until it was virtually nonexistent. Crouched on the top of a brownstone, about a hundred feet away from a samurai with studio headphones on could be seen in possession of a drawn sword. At the precise moment he sheathed his weapon the megaphone lost its ability to project entirely.

“We heard you.” He calmly spoke. Despite his position, his voice was quite clear. Tired of the chaos, the samurai had just gotten finished with a bout right before this and here potentially was another. “I don’t think anyone one would be opposed to that. This isn’t exactly an attack or assault. I assure you, if anyone had a choice, no one would choose to come to a place with such a shitty welcoming party. Say I was able to get in contact with the people in charge, would this really be the end of it? Is it that easy? Man, I want out. Plus, I’m pretty sure you don’t want to fight those guys.”

Those guys Claine referred to were the endless army of platinum soldiers marching in from each side of the avenue. The cloud of debris from the skyscraper had concealed their movements. “Just so you know, I have nothing to do with those guys. I don’t really fuck with the ops either, you feel me?” Awaiting Eddy’s response, he simply raised a brow. What would happen if Goldman got to Merse first”

-

“Merse snap out of it! Merse!”

The annoying voice rang through his skull. Looking to his left the information broker, recognized the boy beside him. Howard had a tendency to show up during ridiculous circumstances. in the past, Merse wondered how he survived half of the time, but he learned it was rather pointless to do so. His arrival meant a certain individual was trying to get in contact with him. It was clear he had something for him too with the huge briefcase the boy was held. With the sight of gigantic pieces of debris incoming, Merse dragged the young boy to the roof of five-story condominium overseeing Thomas and Anathema. From there he could see a man of what appeared to be solid gold running straight towards him. It was far from the craziest thing he’s seen today. He shrugged it off temporarily as he was quite the distance away and held his hand out to the boy. “I take it Ms.Hivemind isn’t too thrilled.”

“She’s livid,” Howard replied. “She wanted me to relay this message. In the future, the next time you decide to do something, don’t. But for now, we need an ace in the hole in case things can’t be smoothed over. Take this.”

A devilish grin filled Merse's face. Here was something he didn’t know was under his nose the whole time. Here was a Generis battery right in front of him. How Iedereen managed to hide it and potentially others intrigued him. An investigation of that would be launched later but for now, he focused on the item gifted to him. Quickly Merse lifted the face of his watch, placing the coin-shaped battery snug in its compartment.

“This speed up things doesn’t it.” Clapping his hands in a cross, a sea of neon purple magic runes accelerated towards the completion of a gigantic magic circle around the area the Herald and Thomas’ destruction caused. Originally the plan was to activate its effect on the ground on a much smaller scale via his placed talisman, but Merse was going for overkill. “Anyone who isn’t that damn monstrosity, I advise you to run. If you want to see what the core of the earth looks like. Stay around.”

Jack’s life was tragic. Its too bad Merse didn’t care about any of that.

-

Concurrently another tragedy took place. The tragedy that was Odis Lyndon Gallagher's life. His skin crawled, rooted with disgust other than his internal guilt. As another man occupied his body, he only thought, tormented by the imprudent actions of Fearis. As the secretary began her tirade, Odis pleaded how this must have been a mistake but it went unheard. Instead, the android was met with a much more vulgar retort.

"You fucking kidding me?" Fearis short temperament was on full display once again. As his anger increased, his tone took on a form comparable to that of a Joe Pesci. "You tell Apollo to open these doors before I kick these shits the hell op-!" No more was needed to be said.

The supernatural BDSM dungeon that was Apollo Amon's office bombarded Fearis with an explosion of howls and screams. Splashes of nanofluids dosed his forming burns and in return, stung further. The wellbeing of the secretary regardless of her being organic or not was a second thought. It was clear Apollo was no longer here, and in his place were beings that could only be described as malicious.

From the outside, revelation became that of reality. The burning tower, hells minions, it was safe to say everyone inside was doomed. The torrent of basilisks proceeded to run amok, thrashing Fearis all the way to the end of the hall in a violent scuffle that left him overwhelmed.

Being a mere human, he struggled and the microorganisms quickly rushed to his aid. His pores exfoliated and a proliferation of platinum like ooze seeped from every extremity, dosing everything that came in contact with Fearis in it. At this point, it was clear physical harm was futile. The battered Fearis, laid cocooned in an oval shell that became tougher with each growing second, aiding his wounds. Once it reached a particular level of hardness, the protective shell let forward a concussive blast that caused the upper half of the skyscraper to completely collapse on itself, burying much of the demons and Fearis in a pile of steel and debris. He was safe, as the multiplying microorganisms protected the frame of Odis.

Forever multitasking, the tachyonic emissions from earlier only placed the microorganism of Panident on high alert. Currently, they were pinpointing the coordinance of the structure in space. To its surprise, it became aware of something much more intriguing just drifting in orbit. Though suppressed, it was something it sensed before. Something it encountered before. Xelas.