Collide Gamer

Chapter 1217 – The Fate of Another Kingdom 3 – Darkness, Night, and Light [Nightingale POV]

‘I could perish today,’ occurred to the goddess of the night.

The thought was calm. Most of her thoughts were calm. Nightingale prided herself on her tranquillity. It was the quiet of her being that had driven her to the night. The identification with the low light and diminished activity after the day. The adoration of the little pockets of flaring energy, whether that was the ball of the nobles, the party of the students, or the quiet contemplations of the individual who sat by the open window at three in the morning of a rainy night. Dark dealings and whispered words, hidden knives and surprising flowers, growled threats and loving confessions, all of them found their home in the night. Nightingale loved it all, appreciated them all, and had been chosen by the world as a worthy vessel for the Faith in the night.

The being before her understood the night in an incomplete way.

Pitch black, the body made from Schattengarn stood motionless. To normal eyes, even in the abundant light Sol radiated, the crossed arms of the Emperor would have been almost invisible, blending into the background of his body. The light-devouring properties of the metal threatened to make his entire form two-dimensional. Mist blacker than smoke drifted out from the disconnected segments of his possessed armour, further obscuring his form.

Nightingale’s eyes were those of the night. To her, the shape of the tyrant would have been clearest even in a lightless cave. The sensitivity of her vision was reversed, growing more acute the darker it became.

The body before her, forged with intent, was malicious in every hook and every segment of the thin, curled fingers. The feet were shaped like hooves, the helmet beset with two devilish, curved horns. Dim, purple light glowed in the single slit of the visor. The danger of the night, the unknown that lurked in the dark, it was embodied well by the armour. It missed the graceful touch of a cold breeze during a hot evening.

Her observations were underlined by the constant tapping of Sol’s heel on the ground. The eagerness to fight did not fit Nightingale. Combat was an ugly necessity of life. Her attention switched to the lifeless garden around her, soon to be swept away by the destruction that combat on their level of power brought with it.

A statue of a tree was nearby, as tall as a person. The wood was stone, finely crafted to resemble bark in its dark grey texture. Individual leaves were formed from metal and attached to the forking branches. Nightingale caressed one of them with her claws. Cold, yet flexible, the leaves brushed over her talons. Each leaf was carved down to the most minute detail, each branch beset with thorns. The statue of a plant had no roots. “A true shame that one with such attention to detail would choose to be a tyrant,” the harpy said.

“The rightful place of one such as I is at the top,” Arkeidos responded. “All must be in order. A hierarchy clad in iron, with the deserving rising to their station and the undeserving grovelling at their feet. Servants of John, you understa-“

“I’m not John Newman’s servant,” Sol interrupted harshly. “I’m first wife of the Apex, Romulus, ruler of the Abyss. I assist here by his request, nothing more.”

“Oh? How interesting.” The shadow armour of Arkeidos fully faced the sun goddess. “Your world fascinates me. It must be vast compared to my domain. Is this ‘Apex’ you talk of more powerful than John Newman?”

“Vastly more powerful. He would have extinguished you thrice over already.”

“A peculiar boast, yet you seem convinced. Does your ruler follow the powerless motion of a republic as well?”

“Romulus is the emperor of the world, while John Newman is the president of a fraction of it. He is a fool.”

Nightingale glared at the sun goddess. “May it be that you wish to aid the enemy, Sol?” the harpy asked. “Much as you share, your treachery ought to be a logical consequence.”

Flicking her golden hair backwards, the tanned, curvy woman did not meet Nightingale’s lavender eyes. “A true emperor governs his land, not suck it dry.”

“Pity, I had considered to have found wisdom,” Arkeidos answered, then fell silent. They all did.

Nightingale returned her attention to the tunnel to restore her calm. What she thought, truly thought, of the Gamer, she had not quite decided yet. Apparent was that he did not deserve to be branded a fool, for he was anything but. Respect was the least he deserved. From her, he also was entitled to gratitude.

The smoothened stone of the tunnel continued to drift by them. No light filled the tunnel, safe for the souls of the damned that managed to temporarily escape the channels of the malevolent structure. There was only Sol, whose skin, form-fitting armour, and conjured sun glowed golden and warm. Nightingale found it revolting. The two of them did not harmonize. Only for a lack of alternatives, had they decided to fight together.

The platform stopped in its downwards slanted path and dropped down. Magic kept them adhered to the surface, the ground descending quicker than the pull of gravity. Thin and dense metal straps spanned between reinforced dripstones. They enveloped the area like a cocoon. Only barely, Nightingale could spy through the gaps. An even larger cave lay beyond, in absolute darkness that few eyes beyond hers would be able to pierce.

Slotting into place in the landscape, the platform having been taken out of a dome that was dedicated entirely to shadows, their travel finally stopped.

Without any warning, Sol charged forwards. ‘Foolery,’ Nightingale thought and attempted to support the physically superior, more experienced goddess. She would need time to test how much she could influence Arkeidos’ senses. The same light that Sol conjured to fill her fists pushed back the influence of the night the harpy conjured. Dropping the efforts, she instead spread her wings and rose into the air. ‘I ought to watch and learn.’

Arkeidos opened his arms wide in anticipation of the impact. Radiance burst from Sol’s gauntleted fist on impact. A wave of sun fire washed over the nearby statues, deforming the metal it touched like it was hot candlewax. Even the body of Arkeidos appeared to be affected. The direct impact site and the surrounding area rippled.

Then those ripples burst open into strings of shadow. Thinned out Schattengarn wrapped around Sol’s hand, just as she pulled away. Nightingale could see many of those wires snapping, unable to cut through Sol’s plate armour. Slowed by the grip, the sun goddess was exposed to the thin, sharp claws of the tyrant, each of them coming in like a stake.

Nightingale focused on the darkness around them and condensed it into chains. With a wave of her wings, she sent them into the zone of light. Links of amethyst refused to reflect the sunlight. Wrapped around the arms of Arkeidos, they slowed his attack. It would have allowed Sol to escape, had the allied goddess worked into it.

Instead, Nightingale witnessed a stubborn commitment to her own strategy. She ripped her hand free and then blasted both of the approaching hands with a direct spell attack. The sunlight boiled the surface and broke the chains Nightingale had attached. Realizing this, Sol attempted to fly backwards. A cross-swipe of attacks cut through her chest. Radiant blood scattered through the air, leaving luminescent dots on the floor.

Sol flew upwards, her magical flight leaving a trail like a comet. Attaching herself to one of the dripstones, Nightingale waited for her to pass. Shocked, she witnessed the sun goddess expanding her area of light. She looked around in search.

“Cease, Sol, I work best from the dark,” she shouted, compromising her position just this once so the issue would not be repeated.

Clicking her tongue, the sun goddess took the advice and reigned her brightness in. Already, Nightingale fled to another part of the ceiling, knowing that Arkeidos was making his move.

A torrent of sharpened shades caught Sol amongst them. Nightingale could have warned her fellow goddess, but felt that repositioning was more important. In a ritualistic fashion, the tyrant raised his hands and claimed ownership of the darkness around him once more. An ownership she contested. Her lips moved, uttering unheard words. Arkeidos shook his head in a fashion a being of metal should have no use of. The condensed shades drifted apart.

Then a massive flash disrupted Nightingale’s concentration. Instinctively, her eyes trailed away from her target, to find Sol focusing her own divine energy into a magic sun. The disruptive brightness burned in Nightingale’s eyes, the heat on her skin, and she swiftly sought refuge in a tucked away corner of the ceiling.

She did not know what happened next. She barely knew what happened over the next five minutes. Every time she attempted to venture out, she was drowned out by the sea of light that Sol conjured. There were openings for her to exploit, where Nightingale attempted to disrupt or chain Arkeidos. Even when she was successful, the coordination with Sol was completely off. Either the Emperor freed himself or the attack Sol launched at the same time burned away the harpy’s influence.

Arkeidos had taken barely any visible damage so far. There were parts of his armour that had melted away so utterly, the Schattengarn had failed in regenerating its proper shape after fulfilling its reactive defence enchantment. That did confirm that he could take permanent damage. At the same time, Sol was clearly worse for wear. Albeit a goddess, she was also a familiar. Single combat was not her forte.

There were little improvements in their teamwork over time. Not enough to outdo the little damages Sol accrued. With each engagement, the sun goddess added another wound to her body. They continued bleeding, bit for bit moving her towards defeat. Nightingale knew that and she must have known that as well.

In short: they were doing poorly.

A massive burst of light filled the room. Nightingale clacked her teeth, annoyed. Out of caution she would need to relocate again. Barely she had left her hideout when Sol dashed towards her. The goddess of the night was growing even more irked. Arkeidos’ eyes would be directed at her easily at this rate. She started to fly and Sol caught up to her.

“I need to talk!” the sun goddess shouted, causing Nightingale to drift back, while focusing on suppressing Arkeidos’ senses. With Sol at another point in the battlefield, she could properly execute that ability. More intrigued than panicked, the Emperor slashed at the darkness around him, now impenetrable to his eyes.

“Speak quick,” Nightingale advised.

“Didn’t care to keep you. We don’t work well together,” Sol commented the obvious. “At this rate we’ll make a mistake and lose. The Gamer is a second-rate ruler, but he does have the aid of my Rom. Defeat is not an option. If I cripple this body, can you at least keep them until reinforcements arrive?”

Nightingale gave the copper skinned goddess a quick nod. “We do not sing to the same tune. I agree to this strategy.”

“Then get back to hiding.”

Nightingale did not appreciate the tone, but it was the first time the two of them agreed on the course of action. With a beat of her wings, she took a sharp turn and then dove into a statue that resembled the jaws of a Venus flytrap. Through the needle-like teeth, she followed the events beyond.

As Sol rushed directly at Arkeidos, her speed and brightness rose in equal measure. Befitting her aspect, the sun goddess burned incandescently, dispersing the darkness Nightingale used to confuse Arkeidos. It happened just early enough that the Emperor could react. Putting his fingers together into one terrible thorn, he met Sol with a thrust of his left arm.

It penetrated the goddess’ stomach. No scream was heard. The brightness rose even further. Nightingale had to narrow her eyes to not be blinded. Soon, Sol’s form lost all details. She was only superheated light. A high-pitched whistle filled the air, rapidly declining into a deep ring.

Then the body of the goddess exploded in a nova of extreme heat. Nightingale realized too late that her hiding place had been poorly chosen. The metal heated up and started to bend. Before she could get enveloped, the harpy dashed upwards. Immediately she was claimed by the scorching winds and blasted outwards. Everything was a blur. She caught herself, after over a hundred metres of being at the whims of the heat. Her feathers and skin felt singed and she rapidly made her way up to the ceiling.

Digging her claws into the rock, she waited. The light below had not yet abated. She counted the seconds until darkness would finally settle in, only to almost lose her grip when a second explosion suddenly occurred. This one was more heat, less force, and even the rock under her claws felt like it would start to melt soon.

Just when it started to feel so hot that she may have to let go, it finally ebbed away. Nightingale counted to ten, then dropped down, landing amidst the statues, universally warped away from the centre of the explosion. There was little outright rubble. The steady winds combined with the heat had merely malformed all of the metal bits. Everything had an appearance akin to a half-molten candle.

Absolute darkness now claimed the devastated chamber, allowing her to see clearer than ever. Shaking the ash out of her feathers, she regenerated the lost fibres from the shadows all around. Her skin got as much of the same treatment as could be given, leaving it dirty with ash and stone dust.

Rejuvenated as best she could, Nightingale then flew upwards to check on Arkeidos’ status. ‘Perhaps her sacrificing this body took care of him entirely,’ she hoped. Quickly, she spotted the Schattengarn body.

Arkeidos stood tall. The arm he had skewered Sol with was entirely gone, eliminated alongside parts of his chest. Looking inside, Nightingale saw a carpet of crystals lining the inside of the chest piece. One side of his helmet had fused into a bulb of metal. The enchantments attempted to fix the damage, but must have gotten misshapen themselves. Expanding and retracting, like active cancer tissue, the metal failed to make progress in its efforts. The hooved feet were in a similar state, bearing more resemblance to an elephant now than a goat.

“Clever,” the Emperor spoke. “To sacrifice one, to allow the other to fight at full potential.”

‘I shall not engage you whatsoever,’ Nightingale thought to herself and enveloped Arkeidos with her magic. He ripped his cooled feet off the floor, to charge at the harpy, but she was already relocating.

Now it was all about delays.