One could hear their own heart beat within the night of Ontiganel. Silence in the dark, a common appearance. Racket of unauthorized youth, skating along rails and steps. The clamor of those indoors, the strobing of lights. Iridescence, flaky white casting over the multitudes of construction. Jamming of horns, snares, the shake of beads, a chill costado piano as the ocean waves drift in and out between the soft noise; unsure if your mind was playing tricks, or if that music was real. One can only trust what was inside. Dushyanta did, he trusted the beat of his heart, the ragged tear of breath, strobilation cutting through his fuzzing eyes.

  Ben stood in the middle of the street, not a car in sight, yet the tumult of hooves rocked the asphalt as though imitating machines. Rubbing his hands together, he blew them a kiss, the air making them stick. Vapid heat rose, his body steaming as his tattoos shifted and morphed. He could feel their eyes, piercing him through the abstract shadows. Red cloaks contrasting the void above. Blades gleaming with silver beaks, feathered brims, and boots that gave them a finger length of height. A voiceless command echoed among the soldiers.

  Opening his hands, Ben felt the overwhelming danger that approached, flames erupted from the back of his hands.The ink’s designs formed gallant wings, and with a hushing clap the wave of soldiers turned to char. Strolling through the smoking bodies and crackling flames, King Schizo opened a small crimson dot. Invisible sharpness radiated around the sphere. An arrow, jagged and uncouth swam through the air in directions Schizo found difficult to control. Inside the sharp turns was a splitting force that rose up Ben’s left arm, cutting along the neck, stopping right below the eye. Blood gushed out. Ben collapsed as he could no longer feel his arm.

  In an angled pocket rose Horo, ill from staying in the shadows for so long. Two hands held firmly onto the pistol as three shots rang out. Severed and divided, King Schizo bothered not to provide a modicum of Horo’s notice. He simply drew a line through the air, and just as division in space slammed against itself, Horo turned into a pile of black water.

  A shadow manipulator? He’s skilled, but not very strong. King Schizo opened his hand, creating a jagged blade, a small crimson dot entered its center. And like a whip he sent the slash flying as Ben was being pulled down into the darkness. Dushyanta had to swim fast if the plan was to work. Praying open two more Horo clones, aiming to fire, swiftly being burst apart.

  He’s too fast…simple clones won’t work. Dushyanta turned the street into a slippery slope, only for Schizo to separate his need for walking. Instead flying over Dushyanta’s friction-less shadow slope. Positioned like an archer, King Schizo sent beams of sharp lines that punctured through darkness; splitting open Dushyanta’s spine. Pulling both him and Ben out from below.

  Floating towards the ground, King Schizo pinched Dushyanta’s throat, raising him up to the hazy moon; so distant and yellow. “Hmm, you had potential, but I doubt you are the one.” Tossing Dushyanta into a pole, Schizo picked up Ben next. “I congratulate you on incinerating an elite squadron of mine, even if they were mindless dolts. Be proud.”

  Tapping King Schizo’s chest, Ben tried to attack with whatever he could, but his tattoos had faded into scars. He held no more fire in those small hands. Is there not a way I can get stronger than this…? Am I going to die, not even succeeding this time? Dushyanta, what should I do?

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  “Ben…you’re a real one, remember that,” Dushyanta pushed himself up, his legs no longer holding any weight. Agony dug its claws into his back. Tears could not comfort him, nor the rage, nor the acceptance. He could no longer numb when his body screamed to fight. A vast curtain of darkness domed them, in this enclosure Dushyanta could transfer his upper half towards Ben.

  “Pathetic, a basic domain. I can fight blind if need be,” King Schizo said as he decapitated Dushyanta.

  Ben could not scream, for they were in a void, void of sound, light, and smell. The only thing he could understand was the heat growling from his hands. Even with his headless body, Dushyanta held on, his hands running fine lines of black across Ben’s just as he was thrown in the air and Dushyanta was blended to shreds; bloody chucks that shattered the void. The world felt as though it were on pause, everything so pointless.

  Thank you Dushyanta…thank you. He could no longer cry, his eyes were burned open with hatred. I’ll sacrifice it all, God, if you exist…give me the power to bring hell upon this fucker!

  “Haah…” Flames coiled out from Ben’s breath. In his eyes: a glowing horizon with torches of dying bodies. “Pillar Possession: Hands of God!” Ben’s hands fell off, crumbling into charcoal. The nubs blackened, opened to great stretched out claws of fire. Their roar cracking space, the heat dizzying King Schizo. His body wobbled as his armor slowly turned from orange to white.

  He’s not looking all to be affected…must mean the thermal energy is being pulled in and then being radiated in the direction he wants. Fire and metal…bad match. King Schizo understood the implicitness of what had occurred. Fate is a strange thing…no matter what I did, I inevitably brought my worst adversary towards myself.

  “Pillar Possession: Divine Scism!” Four crimson eyes inside one singular visor, a shelled helm with a long beak, vents below for gas exchange. Crimson pauldrons at his behemoth shoulder pads, one in the front, and lastly one in the back. A skirt that covered the block, two arms that spread out like wings with claws as long as lampposts. In seconds blades split apart buildings. Ben couldn’t be touched as his hands melted through everything, even the infinite imaginary mass of the barraging blades blitzing him from all directions.

  Rocketing fists of blazing fury came flying from the sky like meteors. Blasting from cloud to cloud, Schizo cut space, evaporating the distance between, whilst his tentacles of crimson swords shifted and morphed, traveling towards their prey. Ben merged his hands together, concentrating the heat into one point. Plasma erupted, crackling and connecting to the colluding clouds. Condensing the energy into the rising heat as the cooling of the troposphere wrapped into an eye of lightning. Thunder came after the light, destruction came before the thunder. Half of Ontiganel was eviscerated that night. A terrorist attack of unprecedented proportion.

  In the grave of his own making, King Schizo’s crumbling body met the eyes of the rejuvenated boy. Hands returned, his wounds cauterized. I can no longer feel it…the heat is fading.

  Another flash of lightning slammed down from the sky, through the darkness. Bearer of white cloak and ten arms was a young scribe who held out a bead. “Congratulations, young Lord. We of the higher order, wish you well in the rankings. Lord of Benevolence and Flame, Ben Krow.” Ben was swiftly handed a medal, and just as swiftly the scribe vanished.

  “What the…” Ben Krow fell to the ground. A heightened carbon dioxide level cut off his oxygen supply, causing him to pass out next to the black skeleton of former King Schizo.