Chapter Seventy-Six: Enat Ul Golak

  Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

  Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

  Solar System: D-447

  Planet: Ora

  Location: Tarvashal, upper residential district, Private Shuttle Bay

  Air rushes around me as the Netheric Maka pulses. My hand opens, and the box glides toward it. The closer it gets, the more whispers I hear in the recesses of my mind. Crawling to be heard. Some bring warning, others bring malice. The moment it touches my skin there is pain. Yet I am pulled to focus by it. The whispers become louder now, swallowing my thoughts. Krotha’s hand traces along my arm, touching the box. Light blooms as she does, the shape of the box morphing and twisting into a blade as long as a sword in my grasp. Fitted perfectly to my hand. Maka pulses in its wake.

  Luna’s eyes are wide as she looks at me. Taking advantage of her distraction, Dallus turns and scrambles towards Luna, grabbing her by the hair and wrenching her in front of him. The blade of light in his grasp, strands of her hair turning to dust as he moves it closer to her face. Her face grimaces as he pulls her closer. The light from her blade retracting.

  “Stay back!” he yells at me, I barely hear him now, the whispers are so loud, so many voices filling the gaps of my thoughts.

  I feel the momentum in the Maka as the armored warriors try to take advantage, it is like a puddle, every movement creating ripples that I can see and feel with such clarity. Even my emotions have become clearer, like there is ice in my veins. I do not even care if he kills her. The loudest whispers tell me one thing. Kill. Kill them all.

  My arm swirls in an arc, so fast that my muscles tear from it, but as they tear, I feel them pulling back into shape. Red light billows from the edge of the blade as one of the four warriors with Dallus is cut in half, blood spraying violently, drawing towards the black box-turned blade. It drinks it greedily. The Netherium-lined whip strikes my flesh, but it does not hurt this time. I barely feel it. As it pulls away, I see it has turned black and crumbles. Fresh energy surging through me once more. Death. That is what they seek. That is what I give them. Absolution.

  Luna slams her head into Dallus’s face, elbowing him in the chest as she pulls herself from his grasp, narrowly avoiding his blade. Even weakened she is formidable… she will make a fine offering for the blade’s hunger. Light dances between Dallus and Luna as they battle anew.

  I feel their steps before I see them. Another flash of energy and movement as I parry the sword that comes for my neck, shattering their Netheric-edged blade and sending shards of it flying, filling the air with more for me to take. A surge of energy ripples from me, my eyes widening as my blood feels like fire filled with ice. There is a tension in me that is breaking, like when I broke the boundary in the realm of dreams. As I take my first step forward, the air shatters from an immense amount of Netheric Maka exploding from my body. Heat rising so much that I steam into the frigid air. Another pulse as the tension releases, the wounds on my body sealing as fast as a Carver now. The tempo of wrath no longer rises in me, it is like I am becoming hollow. The Netherium in the air quivers and spins around me, becoming ashen as I steal its power. Filling the air with black dust.

  I can feel them all moving, feel the ripples of their hearts battling against the Netheric hum in the air. They are all moving so slowly in my perception, like water waiting to fall from the tip of an icicle. Dallus comes in my shadow now, seeking advantage no doubt. My body turns to meet him after I dodge the next strike. His blade is raised above him, coming down towards me. I feel Luna moving behind him in an explosion of movement that quakes the Maka. His eyes grow wide as his head falls from his neck, dust smothering the air as his blood erupts like a fountain. His head rolls across the grate. Eyes blinking, face confused. His blade’s edge retracts, the hilt falling to the ground. The body falling forward with a thud.

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  Luna’s eyes are wide as her body freezes in place, her eyes looking down at Dallus, the hand that holds the blade which decapitated him shakes anxiously. No one moves for a few moments, except for me as I plunge my blade into Dallus’s heart. The blade drinks deep of his blood, I feel the Maka from his body being dragged deep within. There is a hunger and a thirst that comes from it, one that cannot be quenched even by an ocean of blood.

  One of the three that lives tries to flee, and another swings their mace. I slam the blade down upon it, cutting the mace in half, and splitting down the arm. Cleaving it apart, the contents spray blood. The armor seizes from the Netheric pulse. My next strike removes head from body. The third falls to their knees as their metal suit sparks. The cursed blade plunges through their chest. The last that tried to run can do so no longer, for I have taken their legs now. They were all so weak without their advantages. They deserved to die. For the blade welcomes all into its embrace. The last crawls as best they can, leaving a trail of blood that the blade drinks as I drag it behind me.

  “Kalon…” Luna says, I can barely hear her over the whispers, when I turn to look upon her, I see her eyes are strained and wide “They cannot fight, have mercy.”

  Her words fall upon deaf ears as I move toward them now, hollow is my existence. I hear them begging to their false gods as their metal hands drag across the metal beneath them.

  “Your gods do not dwell here,” I say, but it is strange, my voice is distorted and deeper than it normally is. A pulse brings back my focus as I stand over them now.

  Death is what I offer. Death is what I give.

  “Kalon… you’re more than this,” Luna says, barely heard against the chorus of whispers.

  Her eyes hang in mine as I raise the blade over the quivering metal warrior. She shakes her head, pleading for something that I do not offer. The only mercy I offer is death’s embrace. The blade slides through the armor easily, and the owner of it squeals for a few moments before silence fills their gurgling lungs. Luna’s eyes somehow become wider still as she backs away from me. Both of her eyes are crimson now, and the Etheric Maka from her runes struggles to hold back the onslaught from the Netheric. She will change soon. It does not matter. The blade welcomes all to its call.

  She stumbles backward, pointing her blade at me. Hand barely steady enough to hold forward.

  “Kalon… stay away.” She pleads, dark ichor rises and pulses up her neck. Her runes now swirling deep in crimson, “It will not be safe here soon.”

  She jumps backward, nearly stumbling again. My pace is even and measured as I drag the blade that has swelled in size. Pulses of energy arc from it, striking at the ground, seeking more flesh to rend. Does she want me to stay away because she is afraid of me? Or because she is afraid of what she will do soon... when the Netheric Maka turns her into a Shulka.

  Around us, I see countless lights in the distance. They belong to people I realize. Countless souls that seek to become part of the blade. A fine offering for… my hand grips tighter. These are not my thoughts… I do not desire to kill the innocent… what is happening to me?

  Krotha steps into my perception now. Her hand slides across my shoulder as she looks down at all the lights with me.

  You are nearly ready to seal your pact with me.

  Krotha grabs my face gently and turns it toward Luna.

  Show me how sharp my new blade is. Make an offering of her soul to your new Goddess.

  Another ripple shudders through my body. My eyes beginning to truly open again, emotions spilling in from the edges of my mind, fighting against the whispers that have become screams. Kill her. Kill them all. They roar inside my mind, breaking the calm that filled me. My hand struggles to open, it will not stop until I release the blade. I am more than this, I am more than just a blade. I will not mindlessly kill for Krotha or the Cursed Edict. I need Luna, she is my only hope of finding the brothers. Besides that, I owe her a life debt. One that I mean to honor. She will not die by my hand. Not in this lifetime.

  “No,” I say, dropping the blade.

  The Cursed Edict changes back to the box shape and clatters to the ground, sending me to my knees without its power flowing through me. Everything comes rushing back all at once as I spew upon the ground. Black bile sprays through the cracks in the grates of metal.

  “Kalon, there is no time. If I become a…”

  Krotha stands over me as I spew steaming ooze. My eyes look up to hers, they are not angry as I thought they would be. They are curious more than anything.

  Each time you defy me, I will take something precious from you.

  Again I hurl outwards steaming puddles of black ichor. She leans down, close to my ear. Yet somehow, I do not feel the world slipping as before when this happened. Is it because I passed some boundary? Is that why I do not hear the chant either? Her words grate inside my mind.

  When you have nothing left to take, that is when you will be truly mine.

  “Kalon, you need to hurry,” Luna says, her breath is strained.

  “Enough,” I manage, grabbing her head weakly and peering into her now fully crimson eyes “You did not leave me. Enat Ul Golak.”

  Her eyes struggle to search me for meaning.

  “I will not leave you.”