Chương 80: CHAPTER 79 – The Commander’s Traits

"I hated you in my era, and I will keep on hating you, Angel Meris…" Eve emerged from the smoke, letting her blood mantle fall to the ground, turned back into liquid. The chains of darkness anchored to her arms had completely frayed, dropping limply to the floor. Angel and Ascan stared at her in silence, unconsciously taking steps backward.

"I believe this is the first time we've met." The young man replied, snapping his fingers. A lance of shadows tried to pierce her abdomen, only to shatter the moment its tip met her skin. Eve smiled, then grabbed the darkness pooled at her feet and ripped it out, like a weed.

"Can she destroy Angel's technique that easily? What the hell was David up against?!" Ascan retreated further back, letting a granular compound drip from the sleeve of his lab coat. He moved his steps calmly, laying his soles gently on the grate. He remembered the place well: the corridor where he had tricked Maliard Turner. In the distance, beyond her shoulders, he could see the reddish fumes of Taumite, where swarms of flying machines tried to restore order.

They were thin silver discs with equally thin metallic appendages equipped with pincers and other tools.

"The base seems capable of repairing itself autonomously! This grate is new too!" Ascan drew closer to Angel, holding him tight under his arm. Eve, before them, stared at them, moving so slowly she seemed a ghost. Her reddish eyes and white hair shone under the alarm lights. Angel stopped attacking her, realising the only useful thing was to try to slow her down.

"Angel, you only need to keep her busy for a few minutes, then we can get out of this place." The young man nodded, ceasing his retreat and forcing the shadows around him to obey. A jet of dark slime slid down his cheek, staining one eye black. Eve smiled, making Lachesi vibrate on her arm. A blink of an eye was all it took for that monster to vanish from his sight. Blood, a vibrant red river, rose into the air.

Angel's shoulder remained attached to his body out of mercy, or perhaps because Eve appreciated the fountain she had just created. It had all happened in an instant. Her nails had severed his shoulder before the shadow could do anything.

"You must be wondering why your technique failed, am I right?" Eve immediately cleaned her fingers with her tongue, turning to stare at him as strands of shadow tried to stitch him back together. She took a single step forward, appearing behind him. The metallic nails, coated in Lachesi, tightened around his neck.

"The shadows condensed before the impact, but I simply tore through them." Angel shivered, feeling a single tear slide over his skin. The chill of that relic pressed against his flesh was slowly bringing him to collapse.

"Come now, I'll give you a chance. I won't use Lachesi, and I'll only strike with my left arm! Do your best, little boy!" Eve released her grip, shoving him against the wall. His back impacted, fracturing it and sending fragments tumbling down into the dark grate. A dark blade, sharp enough, materialised between his hands. Angel gripped it tightly and lunged at Eve.

"Are you sure? I don't think you have much hope with a frontal attack." Angel's body was pierced through, spilling even more blood into the corridor. Eve smiled when she noticed the impaled body was turning dark and slimy. From the grate, from a thin dark puddle, Angel emerged with his blade. He hurled himself at her, aiming for the throat. Dark splinters writhed before his wide eyes as her laughing face grew clearer. Her skin, completely unharmed, without a trace of the slightest wound.

"I never imagined that mimicking that 'self-proclaimed emperor of the human race' could prove so useful." This time, Eve's attack sank into the flesh of the real Angel Meris. The boy was hurled away, sliding to Ascan's feet. The nervous grin on the scientist's face only widened at the sight of that infernal woman. Eve turned slowly, rotating her left wrist. An old image surfaced in her mind, like water rippling on the surface of a trembling bucket.

Flames, fire everywhere, flashes of heat devouring the few buildings left. A graveyard of iron, fractured and bloodied swords, perhaps with her own blood. She remembered the sensation of metal severing nerves and vessels. A fading memory, if not for one detail: the young man mantled in smoke. His face was as sharp as the blades that whirled around him, sinuous and elegant. His fierce gaze had not been diminished by the absence of his right arm.

His entire body was sculpted, identical to those ancient statues of heroes she recalled seeing in the few books given to her in that prison. No one could have doubted that he portrayed himself with the same aura as an emperor. Without a word, the man raised his empty shoulder, regenerating all the tissue, though for a single instant it seemed almost as if dozens of thousands of tiny barbs fused with the lacerated flesh. The sky split open, torn by a gigantic blade.

Eve didn't care about her wounds; she only cared that that man had not yet fallen at her feet. She opened her mouth, murmuring something, but those words had long been forgotten. The only thing, in that fog of memories, vivid enough, was the rage and disgust for that boy. Returning to the present, she let out a hiss, looking back at the duo with a smile.

"Just because you're a Meta doesn't mean your resistance is equal in every part of your body. Unconsciously, any individual protects the heart and the head, responsible for circulation. However, with a minimum of effort, it's possible to control its density and distribute it throughout the body at will." Ascan stared at her in total silence, helping Angel to his feet.

"Diabolical." That was all Ascan could murmur as he watched her." I'm not a fighter, nor am I strong by any means. My brain did carry me up here, but she is the real deal..." Eve, in his eyes, had not a single gap, not a weak point or flaw that could be exploited. Despite her arrogance in combat, it was impossible to overwhelm her. Before him stood the will to kill made flesh and blood.

"Angel, you did an excellent job." Ascan smiled, lifting him completely and dragging him backward with him. Eve could have killed them in that moment, but something stopped her. Now the space between them had almost halved. A couple of metres at most separated them.

"Tell me, are Malcom Van Jir and Lucas Hoppenheimer here?" The tone of her voice had shifted from cruel and sadistic to cold and severe, enough to make the grate tremble. Only the laboured breathing of the two kept silence from conquering the corridor.

"Malcom is here, probably in the foundry… Lucas, I can assure you, is not here," Angel coughed, wiping blood and shadow from his lips. Eve stared at them, retracting her nails and lowering her arms.

"A pity. At least this way my vengeance will be half complete…" Her tone returned to being unsettlingly feminine and seductive before she resumed walking toward them, smiling.

"But now you must die." Eve readied herself to lunge when suddenly everything was flooded by a blinding glow. The smell of smoke and gunpowder brought her to a satisfying realisation.

"You've always been a sneaky little bastard, Ascan Sober." Eve smiled, plunging into the darkness below, this time without handholds or reference points. Her face twisted into a grin.

"I will humor your little trick. It's more thrilling like this." In the hall, however, David and Monica continued their struggle among the ruins of the great hall. Blue flashes burst into the air, while ice and rock shot in all directions, in a blizzard.

"Not even the swarm of corpses we threw at you weakened you?!" David smiled, spitting blood and grabbing Monica's wrist mere moments before it slammed into his chest. The woman did not deign to look him in the face, continuing to push and drag him across the room. David raised his hand, striking her shoulder with enough force to make her sink into the floor.

"Now freeze!" Space distorted, and suddenly her skin turned bluish, though only for a moment. The ice splinters evaporated in an instant, and Monica stared at him with those eyes, lifeless yet vibrating. She grabbed him by the throat, kicked him in the stomach, and sent him flying to the edge of the chasm. Without uttering a single sound, she reset her shoulder into place and continued the assault. Before David could even get back up, Monica reached him, trying to crush him under her boot.

He dodged, using a wedge of rock emerging from his side. The impact shattered the edge, sending more rock crumbling into the darkness below. David scrambled to his feet, creating a small dagger of ice and rock. Monica sized him up, raising her guard and planting her left foot forward with vehemence. David smiled, bending his wrist and aiming the blade at her chest. Both took the first step, drawing slowly closer to each other. Monica was expressionless, while David's face formed a smile coated in frost.

They drew so close they could imprint their breath on each other. In the darkness, a gear fell into the void. Monica's electrified knuckles and David's dark rock collided in a rain of sparks. David's heel slammed into Monica's flank, bending her. He seized the chance, aiming the knife at her throat. The cut succeeded, but the blade broke without leaving a mark. Amid the remnants of ice and rock, Monica looked him straight in the face and grabbed him with her right hand.

A violent discharge of electricity struck his body. Steam wrapped his face, leaving only his pupils and smile visible. Monica, without hesitation, kicked him full in the stomach.

"Now I understand how you managed to subdue Dirac." David smiled, tearing off his armour of rock. He stretched his arm to the right, drawing a long, sharp pole of ice from the air. A spike of rock erupted from his shoulder, spraying blood. Swiftly, he aimed the spear at her and lunged. The spear broke the moment it met her forehead.

"Invincibility… This is absurd!" David thought, feeling his skin split at the touch of her fingers, soaked in energy. A kick, this time from below, aimed at the jaw. David pulled back, but Monica stomped on his foot, preventing him from escaping. He dodged sideways, feeling the electricity sear his flank. In that miserable instant, he grabbed her hand, trapping it in a column of ice. He rotated his entire body, channelling all his strength into a single blow.

The skin on her stomach deformed, beginning to cave inward. From the ground, immediately after the punch, a column of rock exploded upward. Monica flew toward the ceiling, crashing into the chandelier's remains and halting her momentum against the wall. David panted, unable to relax his own hand.

"The dossier didn't list many countermeasures, but everyone has limits…" That last segment of his thought sent an unpleasant shiver down his nape, but he decided to ignore it. From the rubble, a bluish spark flew into the air. It grazed his shoulder, disintegrating into the void beyond the gears. Monica reappeared before him, missing one of her knuckle-dusters, revealing red knuckles.

"Damnedly tenacious…" David smiled, slamming his fist violently into the ground. In a few moments, dozens of sharpened trunks erupted furiously from the floor. They struck her, encasing her in a skeleton of wood. A violent pain ripped through his chest, now at its limit. He threw himself into the labyrinth, aiming a shard of ice straight at her hand. David caught a glimpse of her, trapped by rock and wood, still with that unsettlingly neutral expression.

With a final burst, he managed to tear her weapon apart, cutting through the iron and the mechanism responsible for the electricity. Monica, ignoring the flames wrapping her wrist, freed herself from the grip of the wood. She stomped the ground, completely fracturing the hall. David felt his foothold give way into the void, as a white light erupted in front of him.

"Never underestimate a wounded beast!" A plate of ice formed beneath him, creating enough space to support his centre of gravity again. Without a word, he launched himself at her as the pale flickering faded. From his arm sprouted a gigantic spike, piercing her wrist. The stone was moments from crashing into Monica's throat.

"Internal fractures and ruptures may not be a problem, but more fatal wounds in succession? Even your mind won't be able to process having been killed so many times!" The blade broke, and with it the ice. David flew away, shoulderless. His body slid against the wall, onto a ledge spared by the collapse. A hand clung to the edge of the central crater, burned and lacerated.

With a leap, Monica hurled herself upward again, this time with an even more singular appearance: her blonde hair shone with silver tones, and in her hands a long pistol, the colour of pearls, with a barrel twisted upon itself. David stared at her almost spellbound as he watched his enemy regenerate her wounds with the golden light emitted by the weapon. Without a word, Monica readjusted her arm and turned toward him. He got up, trying to return to his guard.

His arm was still wrapped in rock, barely enough to cover the tissues underneath. His legs trembled and were weak, bloodied and covered in plates. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I forgot to tell you…" Monica stopped, immediately setting her guard, as David aimed his arm at her. His palm opened, revealing a greyish, distorted sphere.

"… That one must never lower one's guard against an artist!!" A freezing mist exploded in front of her, wrapping her and icing over her eyes for an instant. David's body, at that point, collapsed. Blood erupted from the plates, from his eyes and mouth, immediately followed by the sprouting of dozens of ice and rock spikes. His breath grew heavy, and he knelt. It was then that the clash with Lance and Eve came to mind.

"Their ability… I tried to endure it, but I was already drained after the second impact…" David slowly felt his consciousness slip into darkness, and Monica's figure re-emerged from the haze.

"Congratulations, David. Your work was truly spectacular." Monica sprang backward, avoiding the blazing explosion in front of her. From a dark stain in the wall, Angel and Ascan appeared. The flame was lost in the darkness beyond the gears, as the two hurried to rescue their commander.

"That woman?" David murmured, as the shadows coiled around them like a blanket. Ascan sighed, pointing his finger downward, albeit somewhat uncertainly.

"We made her fall, but knowing this structure… She could be closer than we think." David nodded, tapping Angel's shoulder before sinking into unconsciousness. Monica tried to throw herself at them, but the floor began to collapse even before she could spring. Her hair returned to normal, and with a growl she decided to leave. Behind her, the entire hall caved in, as she leaned out over the gigantic fissure." Keeping Stoikos active is really hellish…"

She murmured, feeling all the wounds she'd sustained echo throughout her body like a constant hum. Monica was completely unharmed, yet the pain had not vanished. David had inflicted fatal wounds on her repeatedly, and despite everything, not all Meta can withstand pain.

"That boy is really an inspiration. How the hell does he fight without a shred of consideration for himself?!" She laughed, though a darker aura accompanied it. She saw before her Maliard and Jeanne, leaning against debris and covered in blood. Jeanne, eyes closed, lay limp on the cement, and Maliard, one arm purple from accumulated blood, was trying to wake her.

"Maliard! Jeanne!" She ran to them, gripping the pistol tightly in her hand. Maliard saw her, smiling and relaxing his shoulders, immediately groaning in pain. Jeanne jolted, coughing up dense reddish foam. A rivulet dripped from her lips as she lost more and more colour.

"Monica… You certainly look well." Maliard smiled, coughing a red stain onto the back of his hand. His arm seemed almost to pulse, slowly crumbling. The woman hurried to hush him and grabbed his hand, cold and hard.

"What the hell happened here? I sensed a presence, then a scream, and…" Maliard covered her lips with his free hand, pointing at Jeanne.

"We can talk about it later. Right now we need to think about her. Lance… That thing hurt her badly, or rather, it caused something in her I can't explain." Monica studied her better, noticing the black fissure in her chest, a web of dense, dark scars. Her chest rose weakly, trembling. Blood kept pouring from her, accompanied by various rattles.

"I think Jeanne has the same condition as Celine Renard." Monica, without a word, aimed the pistol at Jeanne's forehead, delicately placing her pallid finger on the trigger.

"Are you sure? Cloto transfers its own Frequency to heal wounds. It can't steal it like Lachesi." Monica nodded, aiming with a steady arm.

"Do you really think I don't know how this thing works?! For me it'll only slightly hurt. For her, it'll be a godsend." Monica smiled, detonating the shot. Instead of a normal bullet, a beam of golden light burst forth, piercing Jeanne through and through. Immediately, the colour of her skin returned to normal, including her lips. The tremors and coughing ceased to accompany her breathing. However, the scars did not vanish completely. She sat bolt upright, vomiting blood and black fluid.

"JEANNE!" Monica clung to her, holding her tight. Now it was her own breath that was laboured, her brow damp.

"Monica?" With tears in her eyes, Jeanne slowly squeezed her back, resting her chin on Monica's shoulder. Maliard sighed, sitting down to console them, despite the violent cramps in his chest and arm. His device continued to pulse with his heartbeat, trying to pump the last dose.

"You did an excellent job! I'm proud of you!" Monica smiled, grabbing Jeanne by the shoulders and looking her straight in the moist eyes. Maliard smiled, turning to look at the bloodstain where his friend had once lain.

"Maliard… What happened here? I want the truth! I already know you're thinking of omitting something." Monica's tone became stern, immovable, so much so that even he could not resist. Maliard turned her head toward that mess of dust and clotted liquid. Her face went white, almost as if she'd already realised what had happened.

"A moment ago you were talking about Lance and that thing… Maliard, where is Lance Klint?" Maliard lowered his head, clenching his fists and turning them purple too. Monica grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him and studying him from head to toe. She didn't have time to repeat herself before he spoke.

"After vanishing and confronting Ascan Sober, I managed to get back here to help Jeanne. Despite everything, my injuries didn't let me beat him. David was about to kill her, and at that point Lance appeared... But he was completely different from what I knew…" Monica sank her knees to the ground, staring at him weakly.

"Different?" Monica asked, but Maliard gestured for her to be silent as he cleared his throat. Jeanne nodded when she met Monica's gaze, trying to hold back tears.

"His hair was pale, Lachesi had already consumed his arm, and his eyes shone with a homicidal aura. He managed to overwhelm David, but he was brutal. I was watching something beyond grotesque. At one point he even devoured David's liver." Monica fought back nausea, aware her imagination was only playing a nasty trick on her, or so she kept telling herself.

"His voice was strangely effeminate and thin, and then it happened…" Maliard bit his lip, summoning all the strength he had left to speak. Jeanne stared at them in silence, twisting her fingers.

"Maliard, what…" Monica reached out her hand, but the words that erupted from his throat stunned them both.

"LANCE KLINT SACRIFICED HIMSELF!!! I SAW THE CORE EXPLODE FROM HIS CHEST." Monica went white, white as snow. Her arms went limp, and even her pistol darkened. Jeanne covered her face with her bloodied hands, sobbing. Maliard panted, tears in his eyes, yet he kept speaking.

"However, he didn't vanish the way a Meta does… No… Something sinister emerged from his body. A cocoon was born from the core, and from that amorphous mass came the thing I mentioned before. A woman as tall as Lucas, with the same aura as Malcom. She defined herself as the manifestation of cruelty. Fact is, we'd be dead if David hadn't engaged her." Now Monica understood what that pool was and why it hadn't already evaporated.

"She said her name was Eve…" Jeanne murmured, drawing Monica's attention. Among all the thoughts racing through her mind, she managed to latch onto one quite peculiar and unsettling.

"That name… It's similar to his sister's name!" Maliard stared at her, even paler, a veil of confusion over his eyes. Jeanne did the same, trying to lift herself.

"But wasn't Lance's sister Jude?" Jeanne asked, but Monica shook her head, holding up her hand with index and middle fingers raised. Maliard looked bewildered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"In the complete file, Lucas found the names of two of the three family members mentioned. The mother still doesn't have a name, but Lance had two sisters before being taken into the research base. Jude is the younger one, perhaps by a year or two, while Eva died before their transfer, but judging by the interviews, she would have been a couple of years older than them." Jeanne and Maliard exchanged glances, stunned, completely ignoring the pain of their wounds.

"I don't know what that thing you're talking about is, but I can sense its presence… It's no different from the one I felt decades ago." Monica stroked her shoulder, trying to mask the trembling and the grinding of her teeth.

"Lucas will investigate her. In any case, I think we're still in time to help him." Monica smiled, giving a hand to both of them to stand. Maliard limped, but he dried his face and smiled. Jeanne was still pale and weak but able to walk.

"What's your plan?" Maliard asked, addressing Monica. The woman holstered the pistol, turning it into a pendant. She made it disappear into her neckline and turned to speak.

"That thing probably only took form by repairing Lance's body. Lance's core might have been split, so it only harmed his control over the body and allowed her to emerge. If she sustains enough damage, she should revert to her initial form. Frequency is unique to the individual, and right now she's using her own, not our boy's!" Maliard nodded, leaning on her shoulder and heading toward the opening where Lance had come from. In the depths, however, a hideous scene was unfolding.

A body was being dragged through the darkness, ripped from the heap it belonged to. The sound of crushed bones and chewed flesh filled the cold, metallic air.

"Ahhhhh… Cold meat really is disgusting. I've spoiled myself with these years of rest." Eve smiled, tossing the partially eaten arm across the grate. She passed through the gate, crushing the bones of the bodies beneath her. The light here was white, allowing her to see the horror caused by the attack. Mutilated corpses on red cement, but for her, a banquet.

"It really reminds me of when I massacred those people. Was it a decade ago? Maybe it didn't happen in this world at all? I don't care! I can always arrange a massacre!" Eve laughed and laughed, swaying her hips as she made her way toward the colossal portal of iron and gears. As she was about to cross the threshold, her own hand turned against her, trying to strangle her.

"AHAHAHAHAH! YOU'RE STILL HERE, PARASITE!!" She smiled, foaming at the lips and baring her teeth. The veins on her white skin began to pulse, trying to tighten the grip further.

"You failed with your ways once… Craft, Damian, the emperor, that little whore, and even our sister! They all vanished because you were weak, WEAK!" Violently, she tore her arm off, letting it tumble away." Perhaps it was you who was weak… In the end, your violence didn't save the very person you loved so much." A deep, masculine voice began to laugh in her head, mocking her with such joy that Eve was forced to cover her ears.

"Shut up, you fraud… You know nothing, nothing about Damian or me!" Her voice seemed to fracture as her veins seethed and pulsed with ferocity. The arm at her back began to thrash, flailing and writhing.

"I know a lot, actually! The very things you refuse to let surface. I've never seen someone so frightened of their own reflection in a well." Eve turned, catching sight of the blood statue behind her. The liquid had taken the shape of a man in an elegant suit, his face distorted and covered in bubbles.

"Be silent…" She violently clawed her cheeks, making red gush everywhere along her. The figure smiled, pointing a finger at her. Blood boiled, coiling around his figure to form a simple hat." It's always easy for you to crush others… After all, you run less risk of confronting yourself and discovering all the wrong you've done." Those words pierced her brain, searing through her head from side to side.

"Be… SILENT!" The same blood gathered on her nails and was hurled as a single, razor-thin blade. The figure was slashed apart, scattering onto the floor as a reddish pool. The pulleys and cranes behind her toppled, decapitated onto the construction site. Eve panted, trying to fully recompose herself.

"People who haven't lost anyone have different values… Would you still desire money if your mother or your sister were no longer here? If you had no one to spend it with, would you still want it?" As Eve spoke, her grin sharpened, silent and keen.

"I desire the end of everything and everyone; I desire a blank slate. Once I achieve that, I will consecrate my existence to my Damian and to Jude. There is no room for fakes like you in my world." Eve finally crossed the portal, clutching her chest tightly." Don't worry, little brother, I'll bring you back to life… Even if I have to be the one to birth you." Eve kept cackling, advancing toward the large circular machines. Now and then she ran her finger over her abdomen, pausing just below the navel.

Arranged in a cross, heavy armoured iron suits. They were left here, hoping to be used. The cockpit was black and thick, resting on a trunk of condensed purple Lambdite with long metal trellises, the same material that composed the sturdy, squared limbs. The hands, however, were replaced by a wide variety of armaments: among the four hanging and ready for use, two possessed heavy cannons identical to those of siege ships, the other two various firearm muzzles with coiled ammunition belts.

"So things went differently here? These weren't this advanced when Machinamentum tried to kill me." She smiled, bringing her arm close to the one with the cannon. With minimal effort, she tore it off, making the cables writhe like eels. Slowly, thanks to the fluid of Lachesi, the weapon knotted itself to her left arm, almost fusing.

"I thought it'd be heavier." Eve aimed, targeting the large containers at her side. The iron mouth opened, vomiting a salvo of molten iron and reddish marbles. Immediately, the swarm of bullets exploded, releasing a violent blaze. Now, only boiling metal and flames remained. Eve whistled, satisfied.

"It'll have a few shots in total? That could be enough." She raised her eyes to the ceiling, tiled with white, gleaming squares. Raising her hand, she clenched her fist, laughing.

"Will I still be hungry after devouring everything? Your friends, our enemies, your love, and my hatred?" The memory of a world engulfed in flames flooded her gaze, recalling the last words of her final rivals.

"Lucas Hoppenheimer, Gin, and that unscrupulous sorceress… I'll cut them all down and take pleasure in feasting on their flesh." With a smile, she felt her heart accelerate. Eve pierced her chest with her nails, slowly stroking the filaments composing the organ.

"And you will only be able to watch…" Eve smiled, heading toward a second portal, searching for her next prey.