Chapter 361

Saleh couldn’t move. His posture crammed into a single position by the vines. All he could do was sit there on his knees and watch as the heroes brought his father down like a boss monster. Brought down like a beast. Not a man. There was no pride in this end. No glory. No songs to sing and no battle to celebrate. His eyes fluttered shut only for another roar to snap them open. Nausea rose to his throat and he tried again to look away, tugging at the binds that held him. No strength, not even the might of his ability. Just a void where his instincts were.

His fault. Not hers.

The thought bounded about in his head. The truth hanging heavy on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t see why even as he felt the weight of it. It was a dissonance in his own head. This had been caused by him. He had drawn that madman into the palace. He had orchestrated his own father’s death. Patricide by proxy. Ishtar’s words rang in his thoughts. Her conviction had shaken him, the very foundations of his accusations shattered not by the anger. It was the disappointment. He choked on his own words as he strained against the binds again.

I should be down there!

The vines did not budge. He looked up at his brothers. They stared at him. Every set of eyes another accusation that burned hotter than the truth he had convinced himself of. Unworthy of the crown he had been given. Unworthy of the throne he had been set to inherit. Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy. Again and again that word bounced inside his mind as he scrambled to pick up the pieces of his defense. His excuse. His rationality. Had his father truly changed? Or had he simply been unchained by whatever Ishtar had done? His father spoke of insurance as if that had been the true impetus of his actions.

Insurance. A guarantee of something. A promise between him and Ishtar. Something so deeply rooted that it allowed him to act with abandon. Was that what it was? Was that why he was so free with his gifts? Gratitude? It just didn’t make sense. He ground his teeth and tugged again at the bindings as that small gray-skinned figure landed on the side of his father’s head and began  to deliver one brutal hit after another. He tried to yank his head but all he could do was see his brothers accusing eyes. He wanted to scream, to struggle, but what small amount of his fathers teaching were left held his tongue.

Unworthy.

His eyes flicked up to the distant shape of Ishtar sitting on her throne, watching the battle end. Then he turned his gaze towards the cold marble statues wielding golden blades around him. Each had a sightless face turned on him, prepared to destroy him at a moments notice. A rattling roar hit his chest from down below and he felt something in his chest crack. He tugged against the bindings. He thrashed. He bit his lip until it bled. Unworthy of a throne. A failure of a son. Wretched. He looked to his eldest brother, he held his gaze, pleaded with him silently to at least let him throw himself at the heroes. Let me die with him at least!

His brother turned away, his eyes going distant. 

No.

He looked to another and that face turned away. 

No please.

One at a time his siblings turned away. Even the white-eyed zombies that had stood amongst them turned their backs on him. He heard that roar down below, weaker now, he yanked at the binds and a scream finally wrenched itself out of his throat. “ISHTAAAAR!” He begged. “ISHTAAAAAAAR!” 

She didn’t answer. She remained on her distant throne as a quiet vigil to what was happening down below. All those present had their backs turned to him. Only the statues remained facing him at this point. The rumbling roar from below struck him in the chest and he gagged. It was torment of the worst kind. Unworthy. So unworthy. I never understood what it meant to be a king. He looked back out over the ledge. At least he could make himself watch those last moments. At least he could find solace in being present this way. He clenched his jaw and looked.

Then something red danced in front of his eyes.

No, not now, what’s happening now?

He felt the world start to fall out beneath him. His eyes went wide as the edge of the building he had been bound to began to rise up. His father becoming less visible. No, no no no! He needed to see. He needed to be there. Don’t take this from me too! Not my filial duty! Let me WATCH! He pleaded as the statues shifted. Their blades pointed. They dove as one towards him. He threw his head back and gave them his throat. 

Then he fell.

He hit topsoil, the scent of dirt and mud cloying into his nostrils as the heel of a shoe pressed into the back of his head. He felt the raw scrape of pain of thin wounds across his neck. So close. He’d been so close to death. A final, vibrating, thunderous roar echoed across Cairo and then went silent as he slowly turned his head to look up into a pair of multicolored eyes and a wobbly, cruel smile. “...you took it from me…” he croaked at Riot. “...you took everything. I’ll kill you. You used me.”

Riot knelt down. “Used implies I’m done with you.”

A cold chill ran down Saleh’s spine.

Riot grinned. “The big fish got away, but you’ll do. I’m sure his Majesty will know how to break you in.” He chuckled. “He has ways of making a person's ability useful.”

Saleh’s pupils shrank. He bore his teeth. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny him, to rage, to scream, to declare his absolute defiance against this monster wearing human skin. Evil. Pure evil. Not the theatrical villainy of Ishtar. Riot was something colder, twisted, nauseating and cloying in his throat. He struggled against the vines still holding him. Straining against them when the first palpitation hit. 

THUMP!

He jerked.

THUMP THUMP!

He bent back, his eyes sightless, his world becoming pain as he felt something grind down upon the very surface of his soul. Something alien. Something not his. Forced upon him. Instincts that came in brief flickers before fading under the power of those terrible flowers. He knew them but he didn’t, he comprehended them but they made no sense. He’d seen them, envied them, worshipped them. Not his. Never his. Never should be his. He was unworthy of them. Yet when the flicker of Midas’ instinct crackled against his soul and disappeared he fully grasped the weight of his failure. It was his last thought as the pain drove him into unconsciousness.

I was his insurance. Ishtar’s gift to my father was me. Failure.

—

The moment she felt the Legionnaires move she shot from her throne like a rocket. A streak of pale white that nearly collided with the top of the building as she came to an abrupt stop. Her eyes wide behind her helmet. The Legionnaire’s blades were still crossed where Saleh had been. She looked around. His brothers were looking away from where he sat, their eyes slightly glazed over. Charon’s zombies were turned away as well. She turned to the eldest of Erebus’ sons and snatched him up with a gauntleted hand, dragging him to his feet. “Where is your brother?” she demanded. “Where is Saleh?”

He blinked at her a few times, his eyes opening and closing slowly. “Who?” He asked before his eyes snapped open, wide, he turned to look back at the spot and his jaw went slack. Ishtar dropped him with an irritated snarl. Riot. This entire trip has been nothing but one problem after another. She thought and glanced back towards where Erebus was dying on the ground. The gold had stopped spreading. She raised a hand and portals opened in a wave. Openings to allow her stored Legionnaires flood out into the sky. She didn’t care if the heroes saw. Let them see. Saleh needed to be found.

A cloud of white and gold spread out around her like a halo. The rumbling guttering roar of Erebus’ defiance against the invasion into his domain made her heart clench as she allowed more and more of her host to pour into the space. Her legion snapped to attention, blades at the ready. Her lip twitched and she snapped a hand out. “FIND THE BOY!” she bellowed before whipping her head towards one of Charon’s zombies. “Charon!”

The zombie staggered and its sightless eyes grew focused. It blinked a few times before looking  at the center of the ring of siblings. Its eyes turned hard and its broken lips twisted down into a frown. “How?”

“Your soul partially inhabits all of your extensions,” Ishtar said flatly. “Riot is still lurking somewhere. Find him. Kill him.”

The Charon-possessed zombies expression was feral. “Gladly.”

Another weakening roar. She turned where she floated to look down at where Majordomo and the heroes were delivering the final blows. Erebus’ power was so drained that his titanic form was beginning to shrink. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Some of the heroes had stopped to watch the swarm of her legion spread out to begin its search. She ignored them and raised a hand and Verdict appeared in her palm. She clutched the handle of the knife and its  handle extended into a spear haft.

“...still too weak to deliver a finishing blow…” she muttered and raised it over her head. Her lips pressed into a thin line. 

If you do this, Saleh will inherit his power, Erina pointed out.

He will inherit it either way. I’ve tolerated enough cruelty today, she thought and charged the spear. I won’t let Erebus suffer any longer. Besides, the sudden inheritance should disable the boy for a bit.

Very well.

Ishtar reared her arm back, rose in the air, and threw. The spear left her hand with the sound of a crack of thunder as it vanished from her palm. It struck and she lowered her hand as the only guilt she felt was the guilt of not feeling anything else. Riot had taken that from her too. She watched the great beast go still and his form revert completely in a shuddering shift of motion. A man, not a beast, lay in the epicenter of a wave of wanton destruction. Ishtar closed her eyes and with a gesture her weapon returned to her hand.

She exhaled and began to create an eye over Cairo when something hurtled towards her. She turned her head lazily to the left as a rock exploded past her. Her focus shifted back down to the battlefield and she found Majordomo standing there, his shoulders hunched, his stare fixed on her. Her lips curled up despite the ache in her chest. “Enjoy my game, heroes?” She called down to them as she rested her spear on her shoulder.

“What was the point of all this?” Majordomo bellowed up towards her. “Where’s the ‘good for business’ in the carnage?”

How dare you question me, Herald. She thought as she scoffed. “I will leave that for you to intuit, ‘hero’,” she shot back. “I have more pressing matters to attend to than speak to a boy playing at being a paragon.”

Cannonfire and the sudden flicker of movement of a distant spear drew her attention and her barrier formed. She turned her head right and watched as the spear exploded against the hexagons of hard light. Blasts of ordinance following it. “Control your team, hero. They aren’t as… safe as you are.”

She looked back towards him one last time before stepping backwards through a portal.

–

Not as safe as you are.

Nietz clenched his fists as the last of the brief madness of his ultimate evolution continued to ebb. His chest rose and fell, a burning in his lungs that soothed immediately between his healing factor and his evolutionary endurance. He closed his eyes tight and hung his head. He tried to rationalize the disaster around him with the frighteningly sensible being that had granted him his healing factor. Not that he wanted to uplift her in his mind, but to comprehend the cruelty on some rational level, to make sense of the reason.

Yet every thought just turned back to those words. Not as safe. The deal. The only reason she hadn’t struck him down then and there was because of the deal. Could she do it? Even with his growing power? Would he survive even a moment against her? He glanced to the right as Kong landed on the ground next to him. His friend walking over with an expression of concern in his usually cheery face. Were her words some kind of twisted idea of mercy? Sparing his friends?

The wording of the deal coiled in his brain like a serpent as guilt fought with a growing feeling of impotence even with all the strength he had gained. It still isn’t enough. I need more. 

That flicker came back to him. A jealous envy aimed towards a man in gold. A hatred born of torment and a misaligned need to overcome from within. He clenched his teeth and fought it back down as Kong’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey man, you good?”

Nietz shook his head and looked around at the mess around them. A sea of gold coating nearly everything, even the bodies they hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet. The ruined buildings. He exhaled and took another deep breath as his body began to shrink, the strain of his evolution gnawing at his bones only to fade into the healing factor. He’d taken his own weariness from himself with the deal. A perpetual tirelessness. “...how many did we save?”

Kong grinned at him and tapped his fist against Nietz’ shoulder. “Given the estimated population of the affected area?” He stepped back and rested his staff on his shoulder. “Initial headcount suggests about eighty percent.”

“That’s still a lot of death,” Nietz said sullenly.

“Yeah, but it could have been a whole hell of a lot worse without us,” Kong pointed out and glanced back towards the still body of the man that had turned into the monster. “Keep it together big guy. We still got work to do.”

Nietz nodded and exhaled. “Yeah. Right.” 

Not strong enough.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his neck, turning to march towards the body and meet with the others. He still had a job to do. Right now this city needed heroes and he was one of them. No matter what. 

I’ll get strong enough to stop you, Ishtar. I swear it.