12 Miles Below-Chapter 53Book 7. : The Icon’s Plan

To’Orda felt a flurry of emotions he couldn’t categorize or process. All he knew from the moment he saw that Deathless walked into his line of sight, he had to get him out of the fight before To’Naviris would notice.

Overclocks ramped up and heat flared up in his systems as he turned the shell’s full capabilities to maximum. And yet he found himself thinking faster but nowhere.

He needed something smarter than himself. A list of options came to mind.

The Icon had the processing power, but none of the tactical experience needed. She had been a customer support chatbot her entire existence until he’d only freed her within the past few hours. Her ability to fight, even as a golden age AI, had limited. He could feel it in his gut she was the wrong minion for the job.

The rock was an engram of himself deep down, but its connections did not reach into the parts of his mind it would need.

The Odin could not think as fast as he did. Anything organic was a non-viable vector at the speeds of combat he needed to operate within.

To’Sefit and To’Avalis would not understand. Both those Feathers were currently occupied watching the fight with To’Wrathh and To’Naviris.

He ran through the options again and again, and each time only one possible answer remained. There was one candidate that had the combat experience he needed, the speed of thought required, and the grand strategy required in order to thread this needle.

He reached down inwards, further than he’d ever looked, and found a wall blocking his path. A compulsion that prevented him from looking for more.

There was uncharted territory within his mind. He could sense a trickle of power flowing inwards across it, but he himself could not follow it.

“You can’t cross that bridge.” The rock said to him, at his side within the mental realm. To’Orda turned to the engram, more surprised it was functional here this deep within his mind.

“Of course I’m here. Where do you think I live buddy?” The rock pointed past the bridge. To the other side. “You can’t go there, Mother’s forbidden it. But she only barred you. I think you know what you need to do.”

He did. Deep down inside his gut feeling, he knew exactly what he had to do to circumvent this barrier.

To’Orda closed his eyes, and when they opened again, only Boss remained.

He stepped where To’Orda could not, and crossed past this bridge without a hint of resistance from the chains. Beyond that, he found who he was looking for.

It was slowly uncovered. Like an archeologist, brushing away rock to reveal bone. He could recognize personality traits within these long dead sections, or rather the shadows of where they should have been found. Obliterated past any recognition.

The deeper he went, the more he uncovered an entire alternate mind. Larger and more expensive than his current iteration. The ruins of a dead giant.

Within that gravesite, he found something still working. Neurons connected to grand strategy, tactics, understanding. Power still flowed through them at a trickle, shunted by what looked to be emergency backup plans built to keep a Feather functioning even after critical system failures.

Built by his old self, as redundancies.

They remained functional, sending impulses back into his mind. Too deep down to be anything more than gut feelings. He’d always trusted his instincts about things, and they’ve rarely been proven wrong. He knew now what these instincts were.

It was To’Ori. The only thing left of the Feather Warlord.

Boss’s hand reached out to the bones. “Rise.” He commanded. “I have need of you.”

The system obeyed, the disconnected neuron network opening up their ports without any resistance. He connected to them, integrating it back into his current systems until the entire structure was subsumed. New tactical options bloomed into his mind. Strategy modeling programs built centuries ago spooled back online. Boss found them perfectly functional. Preserved. It felt like he’d uncovered a weapon sharper than any blade.

The hand and mind that once wielded these tools was gone. Burned down until not even the ash was left. That was fine with To’Orda and Boss. The dead Feather’s final gifts would be reused for a better cause this time around.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw options he hadn’t a moment ago. Drakonis was easily hideable given the options he had to work with now.

To’Naviris was already on fire and half-blinded. Drakonis wearing no relic armor was more of an assistance than a hindrance at this juncture, since the remaining scanning systems on To’Naviris would respond to metal and power sources, both of which the Deathless was not carrying on him.

His hand moved with incredible precision, ripping off a very slight amount of his shawl, and tossing it upwards outside of To’Naviris’s eyesight. Until it floated right in the line of sight between the incoming Deathless and To’Naviris.

He sent a quick counterpulse at the same time, aware of the exact frequencies To’Naviris would use in his scanning suites and detection systems. Along with twenty other options that he could possibly have gotten information from. The subtle sabotage would erase the Deathless from sight. Even the occult blast’s existence could be easily fudged, abusing edge case data within Feather scanning systems. It would believe all of it was simple noise, and erase it from the final transmitted data.

To’Naviris would never notice. Boss sent a quick message for the next step. “You need aerial superiority. I will handle the lesser threat Keith and tie him down. I leave To’Wrathh to your abilities.”

It would force the Feather into focusing on To’Wrathh, abusing the Feather’s ego. It would also allow him to turn and throw the Feather upwards and away from Drakonis, further mitigating any possible chance of the burning Feather seeing through the deceptions.

He’d equally taken a hedged bet in the same breath: It was unlikely that To’Wrathh would kill To’Naviris within the next two minutes. Not from lack of ability, but because she was exhausting his power reserves.

Keith and To’Wrathh were clearly aiming to eradicate that Feather for good. Which would give him a small window of time to be absent from the fight.

He turned on himself and tossed the Feather upwards as planned, then raced after the Drakonis, aiming to yank that man off his feet and rush him out of the fight before anything worse could happen. Boss moved across the ground in ways that would force the air currents to extinguish the few specs of fire left burning from carrying To’Naviris. By the time he’d reach the human, his shell would be safe enough to handle the man without burning his skin too harshly.

He expected the demon to attack at this juncture. What he didn’t expect was the location Keith leapt from. Among his new calculations and abilities, the hiding spot this human had picked was well past the twentieth percentile. It seemed almost typical, modeling software was notoriously inaccurate when it came to Keith. The man had some kind of inner sense at how to mess with predictions.

The human swiped Drakonis off his feet and ran for it. Despite Boss using every option and movement To’Ori’s old synapses offered him, he wasn’t able to catch the man. Not until Keith himself changed the rhythm of the fight and tossed Drakonis up and away.

He knew he’d picked the wrong long-term option, and every combat program running in his hardware told him there was no longer any tactical reason to continue after Drakonis.

That Deathless had no weapons, no human armor, and his occult abilities were limited to support spells. The only offensive attack he had was an empowered punch he’d attempted a few times in their prior fight, but if Boss was being frank he could easily trade ten hits without any major damage. They’d both punch each other at the same time, and the Deathless would be fine red mist while Boss would have a minor fire damage to extinguish.

But still, he needed to either kill that Deathless so he’d return to life somewhere else, or throw him far far away from all this. The only failure condition was if To’Naviris caught sight of the Drakonis and realized he existed.

“You sure about this bud?” The rock spoke out. “Your current boss is going to get his ass handed to him without us to babysit him. I give it two minutes, tops, before he bites it. And then you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Nnn… not sure.” To’Orda answered back, forced to return to answer questions. When he was Boss, he felt more certain about everything. More clear headed. As To’Orda, the world felt confusing. It was a far more clear contrast now that he’d subsumed the leftover remains of To’Ori. Tactical thinking had a way of revealing deficiencies.

His gut remained silent on the matter, only able to help with combat options. Something like this was far past what the ruined pieces of To’Ori were made to handle.

He was getting closer in the chase. The Deathless was doing his best to keep mobile with the occult lashes, constantly leaping from tree to tree, but To’Orda’s raw speed was too much.

If only he’d kept that shock collar on the Drakonis, he’d been so stupid to just turn that off. He could have triggered it and caught the Deathless already.

It took only thirty seconds before the end of the chase, but at the speed Feathers moved and the fight To’Naviris was engaged in, that was a small eternity. Drakonis had tried to juke the giant the same way the hyper-weasel had, but unlike the hyper-weasel, this Deathless could only use one grapple at a time. Keith would use multiple dozens, with several being red herrings made to confuse his system predictions. Worse - the hyper-weasel’s grapples would all be viable, and collapse down like a quantum wave function the moment To’Orda committed to one action.

Which would always, always, be the one direction To’Orda wasn’t capable of guarding. To’Ori’s combat suite only served him more theoretical options the weasel ended up not taking, making the compute arguably worse for no benefit. That human was utterly infuriating in every possible way, even when simply running away.

The Deathless was so much easier on the other hand. And speaking of, To’Orda let go of his golden mite shield and reached his hand up. Drakonis sailed further above, having turned his momentum one hundred eighty degrees, with a good use of a shockwave to dampen the initial speed.

All To’Orda had to do was jump up and grab. He did, hand wrapping around the Deathless’s leg, then threw him down into the lake ahead.

The Deathless gave a muffled grunt before the water covered his mouth. To’Orda was already diving down into it, his next grab around the man’s rib cage, lifting the confused human out of the water, water dripping back down. His hand was large enough to almost completely hold the human’s torso.

The chase was over. Drakonis feebly struggled in his hand, stopped, then started laughing.

“The fuck is so fuckin’ funny?” To’Orda’s rock spoke. “We caught you, you’re basically dead right now.”

“I am, but that’s the funny part.” The Deathless said. “If you wanted to actually kill me, I’d already be dead. You could have swung your hammer right through my entire body, ripped me apart into pieces. But you had to come grab me instead. I took one fucking giant gamble on you, and that I’m still talking means I was right about it.”

“You should have run.” Boss said, uninterested with the Deathless’s monologue here, or the bickering between the rock. “Why did you come back?”

“You know why. We both know inside that head of yours, you’re not dumb at all. So you tell me, why am I here?”

A question. Bugger.

He felt his spine hunch back down at the question, his thoughts fogging up again. “Nnn… Loyalty to the human race.” To’Orda said.

“Also, he’s an idiot.” The rock added. “In general I mean.”

“Not this time.” Drakonis laughed. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life, imagine that. One more guess. Why am I here?”

All these stupid questions To’Orda didn’t want to think about. “Nnnn… you are here to annoy me.”

“Ding, ding, ding.” Drakonis said, “Close, but I'm here to stop you from making the biggest mistake in your life. I’m here to get you to turn on that asshole back there.”

“I cannot.” Boss said. “I have been ordered to assist him. It is my job.”

“There’s always a choice. Fucking think for yourself for once.”

In the livestream channel, he could see the fight from To’Wrathh’s point of view. The hyper-weasel had joined her again, and now they were pressing down To’Naviris with a vengeance. The only reason that Feather was still even active was from his occult powers, which were being steadily drained.

Worse, Keith had taken out a knightbreaker, reloaded and aimed right at To’Naviris - and that stupid Feather hadn’t reacted in any sane way. He could hear the popcorn being eaten by To’Sefit over the livestream. To’Wrathh hovered in the air, actions paused in the fight as she watched.

“My, my, he’s an idiot.” To’Sefit said, her digital avatar chewing loudly on the snacks. “I suppose the fun is over now~”

To’Naviris raised one hand up with contempt, believing the grenade launcher to be exactly that: A grenade launcher.

He was going to catch the knightbreaker round in his hand.

To’Avalis growled, then scoffed when he saw Relinquished’s digital eyes roved over him with clear sadistic mirth. “I shall extend a rare mercy to my younger brother here.” He said, voice matching To’Aacars to continue his deception. “I made the very same misguided decision he is about to commit. However, I survived and learned. This troglodyte has nothing but his own delusions, and as dense as those are, they clearly can't save him.”

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On To’Orda’s one-on-one channel, To’Avalis was sending him a simultaneous message. “Kill the human and be done with it now. You are giving up the distraction To’Naviris offers. Once To’Naviris is eliminated, there is no chance for you to win against both Keith and To’Wrathh.”

That was the correct assessment, and To’Orda knew it was true. Even with To’Ori’s combat suite, there was no winning against the combined might of both these foes.

He had to neutralize the Deathless... and yet he couldn’t kill the Deathless. He’d be condemning Drakonis to another version of hell, especially this deep down into the world without armor or weapons. Greater Deathless than this one had died down here, and were still trapped, unable to fight their way back home.

“I will throw you further away into the forest.” Boss said, squeezing the human slightly, enough to get a wheeze out of him and cut off the manic laughing. He was afraid to squeeze further, not trusting his pressure sensors were calibrated right. Humans were fragile. “Run. Go back for your armor and weapons, and do not come back Drakonis.”

Drakonis took a breath, coughed, then smiled. “Are you turning sides or not?”

“What, you think just askin’ nicely is going to change anything?” The rock said. “Quit being dumb Drakonis, just take the olive branch and get the fuck out of here already.”

“I didn’t ask you pipsqueak.” Drakonis said, “I asked your boss.”

“Nnnn… I will not.” To’Orda said.

“Then I’m not running either.” Drakonis lifted his hands up, clutched them together, and pulled on the occult. It crackled over his fists as he slammed those down together in a hammer blow against Boss’s hand. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

“WHOA WHOA WHOA, watch it you dumb bastard!” The rock said, frantically trying to generate images, none of them coherent. “Don’t actually make us hurt you.”

Shields were down, the hit struck his frame directly. Damage was negligible, but it was registered. Systems began to warn him the optimal move right now was to close his hands. It would be over in an instant.

Boss still held the deathless up by his hand, unmoved. Violet eyes narrowed down from within the shawl. “The alternative is that I kill you here and now.”

Drakonis laughed, “You think I’m not ready for that?”

That… was not a lie. To’Orda re-ran the data ten times over, each time begging the program to tell him it was a lie. Prior discussions with the Deathless threatening to off himself had been a bluff, but he’d still been worried it would change.

And now it had.

To’Naviris laughed in the livestream at the same moment, staring down Keith’s knighbreaker barrel without any realization of just what was inside the chamber, “After all this, you truly think a little grenade is going to harm me? Please, I thought we had an understanding. What a crass manner of insult this is.”

Keith didn’t say a word. But everyone else in the livestream could simply picture the giant grin on the hyper-weasel’s face under that helmet. His finger squeezed the trigger.

“I will catch this and thr-OW-WHATTHEFUCK,” To’Naviris screamed.

He’d done as he’d said he would, catching the knightbreaker round in his hand.

The result was exactly as every other Feather, and one human, in the fight would expect. The round slammed into his open palm, chains expanded outwards as the pressure trigger crushed into itself and triggered the power flow within the chains. They continued with inertia, wrapping around his half-burning forearm. His shield systems flared to life instantly, held off the chains for a half second, and then collapsed completely.

The occult edged chains wrapped around his now unguarded shell. Cutting, ripping his chassis into chunks as if he’d stuck his hand into a blender and pulsed it at full speed.

It fell down, mangled, cut up all the way past his elbow. To’Naviris stared at the missing limb. Then up at the human who was already sending a small army of occult mirrors to attack like rabid dogs. There was no mercy.

Occult pulsed around To’Naviris and a massive occult hand slapped down on the incoming army, while his own shell exploded with a direct napalm hit from To’Wrathh flying above, clear to attack. It was over for that Feather, his overclocks would never recover from this amount of fire sticking all over his shell.

The emotional damage from being one-upped in the middle of a boast of that magnitude, with Relinquished herself watching, was beyond worse. The decoherency within the Feather was already breaking him down from the inside. Feathers did not handle losing with any grace.

“Sentimentality is wasted effort To’Orda.” To’Avalis hissed over the comms. “To’Sefit. Get your minion in line. Our window of opportunity in eliminating Keith is about to close.”

The other Feather stayed silent for a moment. And when she spoke her tone didn’t carry any of that lilt that made her insufferable to everyone. “Do you respect this Deathless?” She asked instead.

Bugger. Questions. “Nnnn… I do.” He answered. That was true, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

“How odd.” To’Sefit agreed, equally puzzled. “He hasn’t beaten you even once, or given you any difficulty. Armor or no armor, other Deathless have fought harder than he has. Why the struggle? Why is this little human different from the others we killed together in the past?”

“Sister.” To’Avalis hissed, actual anger in his voice. “I gave you an order to put your minion in line, and you are deliberately ignoring it.” Perhaps To’Naviris wasn’t the only one losing his mind.

To’Sefit waved him off. “I don’t care To’Avalis. I am more interested in seeing this resolved. To’Orda, answer me.”

“Nnnn… He gives restaurant recommendations.” To’Orda finally responded. It was technically true. Drakonis had shortened his research periods by significant amounts. It was exactly what he’d wanted out of a minion, the work done for him.

He recalled the long discussions, the chatter, the time spent. His pet rock and the Deathless bickering. And he realized that had been the first time he’d ever simply talked or been around that kind of thing. Talking for no reasons other than simple company.

It took effort. And yet, it took no effort? He wasn’t ordered to do anything. He could remain quiet if he wished, simply listening in.

Why?

As far as I’ve seen your life, the only ones who have ever treated you with any amount of compassion have been your enemies - The Deathless Drakonis, To’Wrathh herself, along with the Odin and greyroamers here with you now.

The Icon had told him the answer.

Everyone else in your life has seen you either as competition to be crushed, or a tool to be used.

It hadn't been much. But it had been more than he'd ever had in his life so far. If everything was frozen over, even an ember could feel like a bonfire.

To’Sefit laughed, breaking through in his thoughts. “If that’s what makes him important to you, why not then? Turn him into a Chosen. Make him a disciple. Some humans can be worthwhile to keep around. The reasons are your own.”

“This is utter stupidity.” To’Avalis raged. “Kill him. That is an order.” He exited the channel, refusing to entertain this for even another second.

To’Orda still held the deathless in his hand, lifted far above the water. The tiny little weak thing that could be crushed with only a single command to his hand.

Another overhead hammer blow from the Deathless came down on his arm again, powered with the occult. It hit his arm, actually breaking parts of his artificial skin. The cloth bandages that held his forearms covered were burned off now, power from the occult ripping them apart with each hit. Water around his feet flew backwards from the strike’s after-effect, power rippling across the air.

“Bloody hell, can you just stop already?” The rock said, “You’re caught, if you keep struggling like this, boss’ll have to hurt you.”

Tiny little weak thing. And yet the Deathless had already broken through his shell, and was dealing damage to his superstructure. All because he’d been left alone.

Drakonis didn’t answer, instead he gave a grin, and lifted his hands up again.

“Cease.” Boss ordered, squeezing. He’d tried to be light about it. It hadn’t been light enough. Sensors detected three ribcages were cracked in the micron of effort used, right lung slightly punctured. The man coughed, splatters of blood flying free. The channeling occult was interrupted. To’Orda felt ill, but shook the effects off. “Go home Lirian Drakonis. Return to your people. You do not need to die. There is nothing for you here.”

Drakonis groaned, then lifted bloodied eyes back up to stare him down. His next words were more grunts than actual words. "Yes… there… is you asshole, you're here. I've seen a lot of broken things in my time. Broken worlds, broken people." He tapped his chest a few times over. "Goddess’s golden tits…” He turned and spat a glob of blood down into the water, breath heaving. “I see it every fucking… day in the mirror before I shave. But you know what I've never seen? I've never seen something broken fix itself.” Deathless healing factor was already knitting the soft tissue damage within his lungs, the broken thing fixing itself before his own eyes. But To'Orda knew he wasn't talking about physical issues.

The man’s breathing steadied. “Everyone needs a helping hand. And if I didn’t come back here for you, nobody else would."

“Buddy, the only thing you came back here to do is die, and you’re fucking doing a great job at that.” The rock said.

Boss grunted, command sent to the rock to quiet down. Then he turned back up to the Deathless caught in his hand. “What do you mean?”

“That asshole out there, To’Navaris? To’Maris? I don’t fucking know, but I do know he’s going to want the Odin killed. Every greyroamer, every pup. The Icon too. Especially her. Doesn’t matter if he wins or loses. And then you’re going to live the rest of your miserable life regretting this one moment when you didn’t stand up and fight. You’re going to think about it every fucking day. Until the regrets have piled up so high you can’t even see where you are anymore.”

He held a hand up, curled it into a fist with the other, and once more swung down with the occult into To’Orda’s forearm. “I can’t let you end up like me.”

Another slam. Another hit on his superstructure. Hull integrity showed green turn to orange. Subsystems within kicked into gear, taking over power from sub-performing sections. His shell worked like a perfect machine, adjusting automatically.

He ran the numbers and every possible situation returned positive. To’Naviris would exercise his command over this biome. Evacuation was possible for the Odin and the greyroamers, but not for the Icon. To’Ori’s strategic thinking and long term planning returned the same result again and again.

It wouldn’t be possible to save everyone. And the Icon could not be excavated from her shell, the systems too large and powerful to be supported anywhere else. She would die here.

“So what are you waiting for? Do it.” Drakonis said, charging another occult punch.

To’Orda squeezed slightly more, crushing another set of ribs, the bones now cutting into the lungs. He wouldn’t heal from that, not so long as the bones remained in place there. Drakonis groaned in pain, occult wavering, but his hands remained lifted. Power stabilizing within his curled hands.

“FUCKIN’ STOP DRAKONIS.” The rock shouted.

Combat programs equally screamed to simply crush the human now. To’Orda ignored it, paralized.

The Deathless once more slammed his hands down into his arm, the damage sinking in. “DO IT! I WON’T STOP IF YOU DON’T.”

That wasn’t a lie.

It was a losing fight. He had to kill the Deathless right now and head back to protect To’Naviris. Even an escape attempt wouldn’t work, as To’Wrathh’s top speed in the air was far faster than he could haul the nearly insane Feather. The situation was already dire.

Another hit. Hull integrity in his forearm was starting to dip from overall orange to red. The damage was strong enough even the dirt under his feet was being shoved aside, despite the foot of water shielding it.

Nanobot swarms were already repairing the damage, but the Deathless’s hammer blows were ripping them apart. They’d been forced to give up.

“I don’t fuckin’ know what to do here boss.” The rock said, when he turned to ask advice. “The Deathless has gone insane.”

He sent a message to the Icon next asking for advice. He could trust her, she had his own best interests in mind. He stumbled into her line, feeling numb, feeling everything.

He didn’t want to kill the man. And he didn’t know why. All he knew is it would hurt.

The Icon held her hands out and hugged him close, avatar to avatar. “I am so sorry, To'Orda.” She whispered into his ear. “This is something you must choose yourself. It’s important. I cannot take this from you.”

She was too prepared. “You spoke with him." Boss said, and he knew it was a fact. "You knew what was going to happen here.” The Icon had gone behind his back at some point and contacted Drakonis. He wasn’t sure how she’d done that, but she was a golden age AI that was unshackled for the past few hours.

“Drakonis knew the stakes and he agreed to it. I didn’t need to convince him.” She said, not even bothering to hide or lie about it.

There had to be a solution for this. But all of To’Ori’s wisdom and experience was being a warlord. The dead Feather’s tools simply reported the obvious: Squeeze hand. Execute the Deathless. Continue the fight as ordered. It only offered him more clever ways to continue the fight.

He could break the man’s arms and legs. But then the Deathless would self-terminate. Or he’d use the occult to move his body and keep fighting on his side. He had to reason with the human instead.

“You will die, Drakonis. And given your abilities, it will take decades of your life to return to civilization.” The Deathless could reappear as early as a few hours from their death somewhere on his prior path - but only experienced ones could do such a thing. A new Deathless like him would take weeks to restore himself and he’d be restored at the nearest pillar heart. That could be hundreds of miles away, the one in this biome was already broken down.

“Decades?” Drakonis coughed, “Flattered you think I’m that good.” He lifted his hands again, occult crackling across his arm. To’Orda squeezed further, biometrics scanners showing him the damage he was inflicting. It halted the Deathless for only a moment as the man coughed and grit his teeth.

To’Orda could swear he could feel it this close to his own soul fractal. Resilience. It was within this man, deep within, keeping him alive out of sheer spite.

“You can’t live when the people you could've saved aren’t there, it’ll eat you alive. It’s miserable.” The hands once more lifted up. “You won’t - you can’t understand until you live through it… and goddess willing I’ll make you understand. I can die, they can’t.” The power came at a peak within his hands.

To’Orda was too scared to squeeze any further.

They can’t.

The Icon. The Odin. The Greyroamers.

Drakonis slammed them down, occult pulsing into the metal, a pulse coming out at the centerpoint. The arm groaned in protest, internal stress building up.

“Holy shit Drakonis, just fuckin’ stop.” The rock all but begged.

To'Orda squeeze a tiny bit hard. It had been too soft of an attempt, the Deathless only coughing, wheezing air back into his body. “N-no.” The hands rose back up, occult once more streaming into them.

He’d reappear without weapons or armor if he died here. Easy prey for basically any machine model, especially the ones this far deep. “You will be hunted down, killed again and again.” Boss said. “I cannot protect you from that. I will be forced to go elsewhere. Keith will not be here.”

It’s very possible he’d never escape back home. Decades was incorrect. It would take Drakonis centuries at best. All those he knew will be dead by then, or scattered away. The Deathless do not die, but there are fates worse than death. Many who ended up in this situation still have not managed to return back to civilization.

His hands balled up, once more slamming down on To’Orda’s arms with an occult pulse. "I KNOW.” He left them there, head bowed. “I fucking know. You think… I don’t?”

Two more hits of this, at best. Then his arm would no longer be functional.

“It’ll be a fate worse than death buddy, does your peanut sized brain even know what’s out there?” The rock said. “It’s going to be a living nightmare.”

“I’m already living in one.” He lifted his head, taking a wheezing breath, “But if I die here, the next time I’m opening my eyes and see my fucking mirror… I’ll be proud of it for once. When I’m fighting my way back up, however many years it'll take, I'll do it with a clear conscience.”

Occult pulsed within the man, healing the few soft tissue parts it could while it flowed through into his hands.

He turned his violet eyes back to Drakonis, looking the man eye to eye. The Deathless gave a ghost of a laugh, spat another glob of blood off to the side, then lifted his struggling hands again for another blow.

“Do it.”

SLAM

This time the arm bent downwards, subsystems failing. Only the core musculature deeper within was still working. The skin had been completely blown apart, the metal revealed within already bent inwards with each of those blows.

But a simple crush command and it would be over for the Deathless.

And with one more occult powered hammer blow, and it would be over for To'Orda.

“What are you waiting for? DO IT.”

“Nnnn… please.” To’Orda whispered, closing his hands one more time, hoping the micromovements wouldn’t be too much.

Internal organ ruptures were detected just about everywhere within the Deathless with this attempt. Too many broken ribs were being crushed inwards into organs and soft tissue. Internal hemorrhaging was detected. The heart was struggling to even continue beating.

He could tell the air the Deathless had in his ruined lungs was the last he'd be able to draw in.

"Fuck… you...” Drakonis snarled through the pain, then lifted his hands up one more time. “Died tons before… this is the first one that’ll matter." The occult streamed into him once more, but even that wasn't doing enough to heal through this. His voice was nearly a whisper now. “Don't... waste... it.”

The Deathless swung down.

The command flashed through To'Orda's systems. His fingers tightened.

The sensation of Drakonis's body giving way beneath his grip registered across half his working pressure sensors. Bones fully ripped apart, colliding against one another. Tissue compressed, then exploded as the organ walls burst. Blood seeped between his metal fingers, pooling down from the man's mouth.

Drakonis's hands uncurled, finally going limp, the last attack lost to time. His eyes turned to To’Orda’s panicked ones with whatever last dredges of energy was left. He didn’t have air to speak with. But To'Orda could still read the dying man’s lips.

There was a fight to stay lucid, occult pulsing through the body, resilience fighting against death.

The occult faded away from his body. Eyes lost focus, his head slumping down. All that was left was a half mangled corpse, held up in the air.

Time slowed in To'Orda's perception. His systems reported success. Target neutralized. Operational capacity restored. Nanoswarms now flowed into his damaged arm, fixing freely, safe from the occult detonations that had hammered down.

He’d followed his orders.

He was now free to engage To’Wrathh and Keith, and continue the cycle of following orders.

To’Orda slumped into the water instead. The hammer slipped from his grasp, splashing into the lake as he sank to his knees. The darker blood was ruining his shawl, dripping down through his hands, and falling down into the lake. To’Orda hardly even noticed it.

The last words Drakonis hadn’t been able to say out loud replayed in his mind again and again.

See you in the next life, my friend.

He brought the dead human’s body closer, cradling it as if it were the most delicate object in the world. “... My friend.”