The Simulacrum

Back in the foyer of the Mana Well Chamber, the silence was thick enough to be carved with a knife. Time seemed to have frozen solid the moment Bel of the Abyss and Leonard S. Dunning both vanished. The only thing that broke the stillness of the picture was the slow, deliberate drip of crimson lifeblood from the black thorn that had pierced Bel's chest, now suspended in mid-air where he once stood. The spire of abyssal magic, a monument to Crowy's sudden betrayal, remained for a heartbeat, then it turned into a viscous liquid and was greedily sucked back into the Abyssal Lord's outstretched hand.

Noir Irdu Inanna stood motionless for a moment, his chest heaving, his face a curious mixture of disbelief and raw, unbridled elation. He had done it. He had killed the Emperor. Nothing stood between him and the culmination of his ravenous ambitions anymore. Nothing, except for the cluster of young heroes arrayed in front of him.

Penelope Dunning was the first to break the spell of stillness. Her knuckles, wrapped around the hilt of her zweihander, were bone-white. A tremor ran through her arm, vibrating up the blade, a silent chord of fury and confusion.

"Knave!" she yelled as she levelled her weapon at him, and the single word rang with the force of a war cry. "Have you no shame?! Even if it's Bel of the Abyss, you can't just stab someone in the back like that! It's just not done!"

Her words were harsh and determined, yet her mind raced, and her eyes fluttered left and right, looking for traces of her brother. There was nothing. Not a single scrap of shimmering ether, not an echo of displaced air. They were simply gone.

"Did... did he take Brother with him, or the other way around?" she whispered, the thought a cold shard of ice in her throat.

Her confusion only lasted for but a heartbeat, and she swiftly reaffirmed her grip on her sword and squared her shoulders. She knew her brother the best, or so she believed, and whatever might have happened just now, she was confident that he was safe. After all, this wasn't the first time he had shocked them with something that made no sense on the surface, only to reveal a masterful plan down the line. Come hell or high water, she had boundless, unwavering trust in his capabilities.

<Aaaw. That's... a bit misguided, but weirdly sweet...>

Her provocation was left unanswered, as Noir's lips bent into a cruel smile.

"No shame?" he rasped, and his voice was like the grinding of stone underfoot, a sound that promised nothing but ruin, "I have but one regret: that I did not do this sooner!"

With that, he flexed his fingers, and a fresh wave of purple energy coalesced around him, a swirling vortex of malevolence that made the very air crackle with latent power.

"For too long I have been bound by the whims of a madman, a relic of ages past! He promised me the world, but delivered only chains! Now... now I shall take what is rightfully mine! The Abyss will bow before me, and then the world!"

"Tarnation!" Deus cursed in the back, her eyes blazing with the ancient fire of a Celestial Ophanim on full display. "We can't even celebrate the demise of the mothe— I mean, that accursed Bel of the Tenebrous Flames, and he's already being replaced!" She abruptly paused, and her eyes returned to their natural blue, bringing forth Angeline's question, "Wait. Are we sure Bel's dead? They just disappeared, like they usually do, didn't they?"

"{I don't think that's our biggest concern right now,}" Judy Sennoma, ever the voice of reason in the storm of chaos, interjected through the aetheric communication system embedded in everyone's enchanted equipment. Her tone was even and measured, a stark contrast to the roiling maelstrom of raw emotion threatening to consume the room. "{I'm sure the Chief is taking care of things on his end, you should focus on your situation.}"

She might not have shared Penelope's bottomless well of trust in Leonard S. Dunning, but unlike her, she was privy to knowledge that painted the situation in a different light. There was a plan, even if she knew much less about it than she'd have liked, and in her mind, it was far too soon to panic. Whatever happened just now, it had to be part of the scheme, an improbable twist in a grander narrative, orchestrated by the very person who had just vanished without a trace. There was no other way to explain why Bel of the Abyss would fall prey to such a cheap trick, a literal backstab of the most predictable vaiery.

Of course, she would have preferred it if someone, anyone, had given her at least a hint of a warning or a clue ahead of time, but she was getting used to her wishes being ignored.

<Ouch.>

"Judy's right!" Joshua Bernstein exclaimed, and the familiar heat of resolve washed over him as he raised his shield, its glossy surface catching the violet surge of power emanating from the Abyssal Lord. "I dunno where Leo's gone, but I'm sure he's fine! Our job is to stop this guy from reaching the Mana Well, and to rescue Amelia! Don't let him distract you!"

His words, so full of heroic conviction, seemed to anchor the group, pulling them back from the brink of disorientation. He was the protagonist, after all, and this was his moment to shine.

"Oh? Do you believe you have what it takes to drag me down in my moment of triumph?" Noir sneered, the purple light in his eye sockets burning brighter, hotter, a star collapsing in on itself. He began to laugh, a low, guttural sound that quickly escalated into a full-throated cackle of pure, unadulterated arrogance.

"We stopped you once; we can do it again!" Josh snapped back, but the Abyssal Lord only laughed harder, his mirth a dissonant symphony that scraped at the nerves.

"Are you talking about our skirmish at the precipice of the lair of the Magi? Fool! Do you still believe you're facing the same man you fought that day?"

With a dramatic flourish, Noir let the purple flames around him writhe and coalesce, drawing in the very light of the room. The vortex spun faster, tighter, and the black thorn he had used to impale Bel of the Abyss reappeared, held in a grip that seemed to be made of solidified shadow.

"I'm the man holding the pure eternal power of the Mana Wells in his hands, the New Emperor of the Abyss, the one who has surpassed Bel of the Tenebrous Flames in every conceivable way! You face a being on the precipice of godhood!"

If Leonard S. Dunning were here, he would've certainly felt a sense of discomfort. Maybe even shame. After all, it was he who raised Noir Irdu Inanna upon a pedestal and fed his ego with whispered promises of glory and grandeur, all for the sake of a masterful ruse that would culminate in this very moment. He taught him all about the artistry of villainy, the perfect cadence, the dark charisma needed to captivate an audience and hold their attention captive. Yet, what he could never instil in him was a taste for subtlety and a genuine flair for the dramatic. The result was a performance that was bombastic, overwrought, and utterly lacking in the nuance that separates a memorable antagonist from a forgettable caricature.

<Cringe. The word is cringe.>

Of course, from the perspective of the protagonist and his faithful companions, the spectacle was anything but comedic. To them, it was a terrifying display of power, a harbinger of their impending doom.

"Well, we aren't exactly the same as we were back then either, so there's that," Josh noted to himself with a quiet confidence that belied the tremor in his hands. He wasn't wrong. They had all come a long way compared to the frantic group of unlikely heroes gathered to save a kidnapped friend on that fateful day, but none changed more than he did. During their battle at the school, he was but a confused captive freshly awakened to power he did not, could not comprehend. Now, he stood at the forefront, a beacon of determination, his powers mastered and his resolve forged in the crucible of countless battles.

The Abyssal Lord’s proclamation of newfound divinity hung in the air, a heavy, suffocating blanket of ego. With a flick of his wrist, Noir swung his sword of inky black shadows in a wide arc. The weapon seemed to slurp at the very essence of the light around it, leaving a trail of absolute darkness in its wake, a void that seemed to devour the very concept of space.

<That's a bit of an overstatement. It wasn't that cool.>

...

His sword drew a faint black haze across the air, shimmering like the air over hot asphalt on a summer's day. The purple energy radiating from Noir's form coiled around the blade like a serpent, its sinuous body pulsing with a malevolent inner light.

<Better.>

His stance invited Joshua to make the first move, and he obliged. He tightened the grip on the hilt of his own black blade and dashed forward, his shield held high to guard against any surprise attacks. As he closed the distance, Noir simply stood there, a smug smirk playing on his lips, waiting for the right moment to strike. He took a step forward to meet the attack, and the blades met with a resounding clang that echoed through the cavernous chamber.

However, Joshua wasn't alone. Following in his wake was a swift shadow, as Penelope, without any prior word or signal, matched his rush and appeared out of the Abyssal Lord's blind spot. Her zweihander swung down, yet, despite its awesome speed, the Abyssal Lord simply sidestepped, and the heavy blade sliced through the empty air with a woosh.

At the same instant, a dragon's roar filled the air, a guttural, primal sound that spoke of fire and fury. A torrent of crimson light erupted from the right, forcing Noir to erect a barrier of purple energy to shield himself from the scorching heat. It held, but then, a volley of golden flames rained down from above, peppering the shimmering shield and sputtering against its surface with angry hisses.

Noir's focus was scattered, and it was in that brief, flickering moment of distraction that the true attack came. The crimson light from Elleanor's draconic breath had served as a perfect cover for Joshua to disengage and reposition, and he was now on Noir's left, sword poised to deliver a decisive, crippling blow.

Except, as he lunged, the very ground beneath his feet seemed to liquefy, then solidify, as it reached up to ensnare his legs. He tried to pull away, but it was too late. The tar-like substance, the same one that had been used to trap the Chimera, had now been repurposed to bind him, its sticky, unyielding grasp a shackle from which he could not easily break free.

"Boy!" Deus yelled from the air and drew back the string of her bow, a searing arrow of celestial fire already nocked and ready to fly. This time, it wasn't aimed at the Abyssal Lord, but at the feet of the ensnared Joshua. The arrow struck the black tar and exploded in a brilliant flash of light, weakening it just long enough for him to break through, the mystic substance cracking like glass around his ankles.

The four of them worked together with perfect timing, yet the few seconds it took for Joshua to regain his mobility were enough for Noir to usurp the pace of the battle from them. Now free, the young hero sprang back, his shield raised to ward off another shadow blade that sought to cleave him in two, and he could see the Abyssal Lord's face, twisted into a mask of utter contempt.

The Abyssal Lord was a whirlwind of motion, a storm of dark energy and deadly intent. He moved with a fluid grace, each step a calculated manoeuvre to keep them at bay. His shadow blade sang a deadly song as it danced through the air, meeting each attack with a deft precision that spoke of years of relentless training and a deep understanding of the art of combat. He was not just a brute force of nature, but a cunning tactician, a predator who knew how to exploit the slightest weakness, the smallest opening in their defences.

Despite fighting four of them at once, he dominated the encounter, and he would have continued to do so if Joshua hadn't come up with a plan in a hurry.

"Elly! Tag in!" he yelled and jumped back, allowing Eleanor Dracis to rush in and take his place.

She obliged, and as soon as she was in range, Noir lunged at her with a wide, sweeping strike. The attack was as wild as it was powerful, but she held her ground, her hands moving in a fluent motion to deflect the strike. The Wards of her Magiformer groaned and teared under the stress, but she still managed to hold out, her face a mask of intense concentration. In response, the Abyssal Lord lunged at her with a wide, sweeping strike, but not fast enough.

"Deus, stay back and keep firing! Penny, tag out!"

Unlike their usual bickering, Penelope followed his order without any complaints. She disengaged and retreated, allowing Josh to rush in, shield raised and blade drawn back for a quick stab.

Noir, feeling the tempo of the fight escaping his control, exhaled a growl and pivoted on the ball of his foot and slipped out of the way, in a literal sense of the word, his feet sliding across the floor as though he were walking on frictionless ice. Then, akin to camera footage played in reverse, he returned to his original position with the same slippery motions and slammed his free palm into Joshua's shield, creating an amethyst explosion that forced him back.

Before he could do anything more, a series of golden magic missiles peppered the ground around him, each one a tiny, glittering star that exploded into a shower of light upon impact. He could have ignored them, but they were a distraction, a nuisance that forced him to give ground.

"Penny, tag in!" Josh yelled again, and like a well-oiled machine, she swapped places with him.

This dance of steel and sorcery continued, a relentless cycle of aggression and tactical withdrawal, each member of the group stepping into the fray, trading blows with the Abyssal Lord, then yielding to the next in line. They fought with a cohesion that belied the chaos of the battle, their movements a testament to both relentless training and practical experience.

It was then that colour drained from the world, and the silent maws of bone-white predation swept across the—

<No.>

The white tide of—

<I said no. That didn't happen. Get back to the fight.>

The hall... was tinted with flashes of violent lights. The clang of steel was a constant, a percussive beat to the symphony of destruction, each note a testament to the desperation and determination of the combatants. The air was thick with mana and a palpable tension that hung heavy in the chamber.

The flaring violet of the Abyssal Lord's aura clashed with the golden radiance of Deus's celestial arrows, while the crimson incandescence of Elly's dragonfire painted the walls in hues of wrath and fury, streaked by the black and silver locusts drawn by the blades of Joshua and Penelope. The very ground was a tapestry of scorch marks and fractured stone, a battlefield scarred by the relentless exchange of blows and painted by the colours of their powers.

Yet, one hue was conspicuously missing. It was the alabaster of the myriad fangs and—

<O-Ow! Stop it! There's nothing of the sort here!>

...

Yet, one hue was conspicuously missing. The icy blue of Neige Liliam Inanna-Dunning's magic was nowhere to be seen. She had remained in the back, wreathed in a familiar sheen of pale orange light, her hands moving in a complex series of gestures.

She knew that she was a liability. Years of subjugation by her brother left scars in her mind that made her an easy target for the Abyssal Lord, and the mere sight of him was enough to send a shiver down her spine, a cold dread that threatened to paralyse her limbs and cloud her judgement. She was well aware, and so she didn't even try to get into the fray. That, however, didn't mean she would remain idle forever.

"{Beluga to Polar Whale.}" Judy's voice in the communicator made Neige tense up, and her hands stopped moving for a brief moment. "{Be prepared to move out on my mark, over.}"

Neige sucked in a deep breath, and her hands resumed their intricate dance.

A strange feeling of detachment washed over her, and she watched the battle unfold in front of her as if through a pane of glass, a silent observer to a spectacle of violence and valour. It felt unfair to be the only one spared from this ordeal, even if she knew that it was for the best. She had her own role to play, and the time was nigh.

"Elly, tag in!" Josh yelled, and following the pattern, Noir instinctively turned to face the direction he had last seen Eleanor.

Except...

"Hi-yah!" Penelope rushed in, taking the Abyssal Lord by surprise. Her weapon held high, she exclaimed, "Nagaregawa Zan!", yet another esoteric yet mighty technique she had learned from Rinne 'Mountain Girl' Yamako. Her blade shone with a bright light, its usual silver sheen tinted with a hint of pink as she rushed forward like a rosy torrent.

It was all calculated; a simple yet effective plan concocted by Joshua and made possible by Judy's cooperation through the aetheric communicator. First, they lulled the Abyssal Lord into a predictable rhythm, and then as soon as the opportunity presented itself, they broke the pattern, leaving him open for a powerful attack.

He was too experienced a fighter to be caught completely off-guard, and he raised his blade to block the ambuscade, but he misjudged the force behind the strike. The two blades met with a deafening clang, the impact a concussive blast that sent a shockwave through the chamber, but Penelope's zweihander didn't stop. Already off-balance, the Abyssal man had no choice but to retreat by spreading his wings and taking to the air.

But that was exactly what they wanted him to do. Despite their best efforts, they failed to dislodge him until now; no matter what, he would return to the crooked gates leading into the Mana Well Chamber, guarding the entrance with an almost religious zeal. Now, however, they finally managed to push him back and, for a brief moment, clear the path.

That was all Neige needed.

"{Polar Whale, go, go, go.}"

She had been preparing this moment for a while, weaving a complex spell that now snapped into place with the final, decisive gesture. She spread her own wings as her Concealment Sigil was undone, and a violent gust of wind erupted from her position, a focused gale that howled as it tore through the chamber. She followed its lead, and like a bullet fired from a cannon, she shot past the others and towards the broken doors. Her trajectory was a blur of motion, a comet of ice leaving a trail of shimmering frost in her wake. The Abyssal Lord, still reeling from the force of Penelope's attack, could only watch as she sailed past him, a fleeting glimpse of silver in his peripheral vision.

She slipped through the twisted maw of the entrance, and as she crossed the threshold, she was greeted by a sight that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The Mana Well Chamber was a cathedral of raw power, a vast shrine to the blue cube at the centre, its light pulsing with a hypnotic rhythm. Even as an heir of an Abyssal Noble House, this was only her third time seeing one, and the sheer, overwhelming presence of it made her breath catch in her throat.

It was only for a moment though, as her eyes frantically scanned the chamber and soon found Amelia. However, her relief was short-lived, as there was a familiar man standing next to her. A man made of infinite jaws and maws and bones and claws and—

<Oh, for the love of... No, he's obviously not th-th-OW! Bloody hell!>

...

There was a familiar man standing next to her, and as soon as their eyes met, the Ninurta patriarch, still covered in bandages after his last encounter with Joshua's companions, let out a throaty roar and pointed his hand at her.

"Begone!"

A wave of heat washed over her as a massive fireball materialised out of thin air and shot towards her. She was still carried by the wind blast she had previously conjured, so the best she could do was to instinctively ball up to make herself as small a target as possible.

The blast of heat washed over her, straining against the Wards of her Magiformer, but they held, their protective glow flickering but unyielding, yet the impact and her posture made her lose all momentum and she crashed onto the ground hard.

She rolled and came to a stop, the world a dizzying blur of pain and confusion. The impact had knocked the wind out of her, but adrenaline was a potent anaesthetic, and she scrambled to her feet, her gaze darting towards her opponent. It appeared the Abyssal Aristocrat only just recognised the person he was facing, and his face contorted into a scowl.

The Ninurta patriarch wasn't a man of half-measures though, and he immediately conjured another fireball, which he would've no doubt launched with the same ferocity if he wasn't interrupted by the deafening sound of the chamber's doors exploding inwards.

Their hinges failed, torn from the stone with a screech of tortured metal, and the great slabs of steel were hurled across the chamber like discarded toys, turning into endless fragments of ever-hungry jaws and beaks and snouts and maws violently devouring all that ever was, had been, or will be in a cacophony of—

<Ow! That goddamn son of a...! No, the bloody doors obviously didn't turn into mouths! That makes no bloody sense!>

... countless fragments of ever-scratching claws and talons and pincers and—

<That's not any better! It's just a bloody door!>

... myriad pieces of twisted and broken metal littering the floor…

<Yes! Exactly!>

... as the terrifying vision of a planet made of endless plains of yellowed, living bone made its way through the open doorway, its shape shifting and shimmering to—

<No! Fuck off-ow-ow-ow!>

... as the Abyssal Lord burst through, bringing the battle to its next stage, inside the Mana Well Chamber itself.

<Ouch. That wasn't pleasant. … This final battle is going to be a long one in more ways than one, isn't it?>