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Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 7, 2019 9:11:46 GMT
Eliza recoiled, both figuratively and literally, gasping in shock as she shook her head to clear her mind of the images she'd seen. Somehow, this wasn't a facsimile of the Elder, but the woman herself, she concluded. This realization did nothing to quell the ire she'd felt ever since realizing that the ship was toying with her. Emerald eyes stared balefully at the Elder as the helmet was pulled back over with deliberate intent. "Ye've lost yer way, gran. We serve humanity through th' strength of Inferno, na this..void." She powered down her plasma saber, then tossed it back to Miller. "Keep th' emitter away fram ye, get movin'," Eliza ordered as she began to sprint towards the Elder. Without the ability to answer the Elder's summons with her own, her options were limited. Few things were as difficult to counter at close range as someone that had simply elected to charge at full speed, heedless of any injury to themselves. With shields capable of tanking multiple direct hits from even anti-materiel rifles of the 20th century, along with multiple layers of armor beneath, an Umbra Witch of the old ways would be hard-pressed to make a dent. If the Elder attempted to dodge back, Eliza would simply continue, building momentum until she did catch the other Witch. The intent now was remarkably simple. Crush the unarmored Witch, and tear her apart, one way or another. With the countdown active, time would not be good for elaborate plans. However, Eliza was not without some finesse, and as she rushed the Elder, she began to whisper a chant, one done twice before, though she was mindful of Miller's proximity. He needed to get clear.
There was a surprising lack of surprise as the noise rang from above, his eyes calmly shifting up to catch the large bulking form as it dropped down dramatically, eyes following its motions unblinkingly. Huh... surprising. It was rather unnerving how little he responded to it. Was his brain jaded from all the recent excitement? Or... His thought process is interrupted as the hulking soldier landed, the armour and mannerisms wholly reminiscent of the one he had seen previously, but the voice was different, as was the armour colouration...So the personality was a family/company thing then.
He hadn't moved from the console, but his lips had parted to provide a witty remark as the invisible kinetic force sent the heavily-armoured soldier flying, crashing against the side, barely avoiding impalement across the gilded spikes that jutted from the wall, a thorny cocoon for the orb in the centre. What the- The voice rang out, an unwanted answer to his unspoken question. One he had been familiar with for the last few hours. He saw him there, emerging impossibly from the surrounding walls, calm, placid and cold. Even with his jaded mind the cyborg felt a shiver run down his spine, that pale blue gaze causing his very soul to freeze over and harden. There he was the embodiment of the voice that had guided him, the chosen avatar of this ship.
He swallowed hard as he began talking to him, his digits tightening around the explosives in his hand, thumbs moving up to slightly test the resistance of the pins. Awakening? What was he talking about...Did that mean everyone else that had contacted it, that had somehow linked to the essence of this ship had turned into.. that? He would look behind him, the distant rumble of an explosion making itself known even as far as the core itself. Someone had broken through the sealed door...
His gaze dropped down to the grenades in his grasp, head tilting to the side as if only realizing he had been holding on to them right now. "No. Not quite." His finally spoke out load, dark brown eyes meeting the man's icy gaze, his fingers drumming against the outside of the explosives. It was easier. Seeing who and what he was talking with. For all intents and purposes it was a person. Someone he could talk to, someone he could negotiate with....Someone he could stall. He moved from where he had been standing, pacing along the console, making sure to keep it between him and the man with the voice. "But what is this about me owing you? I had been just thinking why you brought me here, why you needed my hand to do just that, when there have been so many displays of strength all around me... You are not as in control of this ship as you'd like to be. You have ones you have captured before rebelling and trying to bring you down, crew that won't listen to you, and systems beyond your reach. Nonono...You owe me." He bravely spoke stretching his right arm with his index finger aiming towards the man, before pulling back and aiming at himself for emphasis.
The orb rumbled, drawing his gaze, his thumbs reflexively twitching, pressing against the steel ring of the pins, as much as he could without actually pulling them out. Soon...
The blue armored Spartan blinked under his helmet. He heard the voice, saw the TEAMCOMM light up. But he couldn't tip his hand yet.
"Bravo Five, copy. Confined situation, hostile distracted." He tried to move, make sure he was able to play his part; they were so close. "Package is ready, Crimson One. Just need a little support, and a distraction."
And while the Spartan was trying to put himself in position, the man who had emerged from the walls would be taken with the cyborg, all attention on him. "For all your mind has expanded to see, you haven't yet grasped a certain intricacy of this vessel, of the forces at play." A sigh, but the figure merely waved a hand in gesture. "Eligos, while the Event Horizon and I are indeed connected, it and I are not one and the same. I hardly control its crew, I merely give it some guidance. After all, I created this ship when it was...just a ship." A moment as he seemed to reflect on things. "And in return...it recreated me."
Six minutes remaining. The man smiled, glancing at the rotating gravity drive, then returned his gaze to the cyborg. "You might have been driven mad when you inserted your mind into the ship's computers, except you are a certain kind of exceptional. Chaotic, a person of mayhem and disorder. And as such, sometimes the Void does things to people that remake them into something else." A pause as he looked over to the magnetized Spartan where he hung to the wall. After a derisive snort, the armored figure was released, dropping hard to the catwalk again, this time face down.
"And then there are some even this ship finds difficult, whether dead or alive."
That's when the door of Second Containment would open, slowly sliding apart as the man would snap his eyes toward the entryway. He glowered, turning his form toward the retracting doorway and the expected figure that surely would be waiting. "Speaking of difficult little pe-"
And then the energy pulse cracked the air as a brilliant blue light cut right through his chest, causing the man to stare down for a moment, then turning just as the surprisingly fast bulk of blue Mjolnir slammed at full speed and over half a ton mass into him.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Confined? While Vincent was somewhat relieved that his gamble had paid off and moreover that he and his kin seemed to have some kind of resistance to this place, the response from Bravo Five had a renewed element of concern to it. What was strong enough to confine a conscious Spartan, much less one in full armor? That was a very, very short list, and given what Vincent saw of the other Spartan's service tag and where it was located... that was halfway up what looked to be a spherical chamber. The first thoughts that came to mind were the mission reports involving the Mantle's Approach and latter skirmishes on the surface of Installation 03, a less than ideal situation. But... there were ways of fighting that.
Reaching back into his hardcase to draw forth another two devices and lock them to magnetic points on his chestpiece and legs, the sound of several hundred pounds of man and machine slamming into the deck beyond the door immediately drew Vincent's attention as the door began to open.
One friendly, one unknown and one hostile. Still with one eye on the drawn up schematics Patch had tucked away in a discreet corner of his HUD, Vincent's entire body would tense as the door finally opened.
Kicking off from the deck to see the figure that had been speaking already facing the door - blue flight uniform matching Miller's and sporting the namepatch "WEIR" - Vincent had been all but ready to take a snapshot at the man only to notice Eligos and the control panel in the way. Not that it mattered. Even before Weir managed to finish his sentence Bravo Five would be back on his feet, a blast from his sidearm punching through his chest to remarkably little reaction before the Spartan-IV's armored bulk was slamming into him.
Vincent did not like how little effect the energy weapon had, but being smothered by the other Spartan would hopefully buy him enough time. Invisible and hopefully moving fast enough to prevent Eligos from immediately processing what was going on and reacting accordingly, Vincent would move to sprint straight past the cyborg and for the gravity drive in the center and dropping a primed flashbang in his wake - the only people he cared about in that room both had MJOLNIR, their armor would protect them from that.
Six minutes remaining, not even a full meter thickness at the base. This could work.
Eligos' eyes remained locked on those icy blues, barely daring to blink. Yes...focus on me. Just on me... Narcissist, fanatic and megalomaniac, a perfect that just loved to monologue on and on and on. And it seemed he had struck the right nerve for just that. Six minutes...His eyes flickered back to the gravity drive for just a second, almost mirroring the pale man, observing as it began to rotate. So close. So very close. His digits flexed around the grenade, turning back to the man just in time to catch him doing the very same. Externally he seemed calm, composed. But under the EVA visor and the gas mask the cyborg was biting down on his split tongue tips, the taste of iron flooding his mouth as his jaw tensed. Come on, come on!
As he waited, mentally counting down on the time left, he couldn't help but to focus upon the man's words. A dangerous thing, yes, but how could he resist doing just that when he himself was the subject matter. Exceptional? Him? That was...something he hadn't heard in a while. Remade..? Did he mean like it had altered him? That was a dangerous prospect. once more his lips parted, ready to voice a question, ready to continue this little lull in the chaos, only to see it broken by a scorching beam of blue plasma...and a dark blue pain train as he tacked the man away.
"Yeah, my personal experience with them has been..." His quirky remark is cut short by the sound of the opening iris, prompting him to turn around, console pressed against his back, waiting, preparing for...nothing? Confusion sank for a moment, until he remembered the first time he quite literally ran against the man "WAIT! Don't-" Blinding bright light and a searing pain as noise threatened to tear his eardrums asunder, leaving naught but a high pitch ring behind. Blind, with a splitting headache and disoriented, the cyborg managed to turn around, fully leaning over the console for support, his forearms dangling over the top. He wouldn't hear it, but the two armoured soldiers would, the twin metallic ring of two safety pins being pulled and allowed to fall to the ground. His digits still clung to the safety levers however, keeping them from exploding in his grasp.
"The Sphere will open!" He screamed into his Comms, something that could be taken as a threat, a promise...or an advice. He hoped against all odds the one that kept hitting him with grenades would get it for freaking once. He blinked rapidly, trying to turn the colours and blurry shapes into anything resembling vision...He had to wait for them to open. Only then it would matter, only then everything would collapse to the Void it had crawled from...and if the soldier was to do it too early, he wasn't beyond returning the friendly fire for the sake of doing this the right way...
Shadows surged out from the matriarch's lashing weaves, forming into hands that slammed against the armored witch. Even as she gave a sadistic grin, the elder would fail to notice in the chaos that the EVA suited Miller had managed to hurry away, Eliza's abandoned weapons taken with him.
"You shun your heritage...you've abandoned our ways so long for that of the mortals that you fear the things we taught you! Even the heretic child honored us better than you! Your mother couldn't even use her true name of bloodline, claiming that of some peasant girl who had been chosen by the Angels!" A spat on the deck as the Elder twisted her wrist, raising a mass of shadows behind her. "You both are a disgrace...better it is that I never have yet suffered to see her again."
Six minutes counted off. The ship rumbled, and a surge of darkness now through the hull deep into the reaches.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 7, 2019 23:42:44 GMT
The first fist had come as a surprise, heralding the Elder's presence. Those that followed, however, Eliza was ready for, and when the weaves lashed out, the younger Witch twisted away from the first, then barreled through the ones that followed, relying on her shields and advanced armor to tank the impact, and the sheer mass she possessed in the armor to continue her charge. Amid the chaos, the younger Witch flicked her hand forward, loosing a single mote of flame, though she aimed not for the Elder, but for a point in space immediately behind her, intending to force the woman towards herself in the blast. Another few steps followed through her movement, then Eliza activated the maglocks on her boots to fix herself in place as she braced with dagger ready to strike should the Elder indeed be flung in her direction. "Dinna ye hear me?" she snarled. "Get back in yer grave!" Her shields would almost certainly be down, and she'd yet to take stock of the full damage report to her armor. Details could wait until after her foe was dead once more and she was off this accursed ship.
They slammed hard against the deck, but before Bravo Five could bring his fist down hard, the man laughed and sank into the floor, leaving only empty air and the deck plate for the armored gauntlet to impact against. "Son of a-"
Flung again through the air, crashing down into the coolant pool while the man emerged once more from the wall of the chamber, laughing as he stepped back down to the encircling catwalk. "Language, soldier. You represent the last living example of a dead breed." He turned his head, frowning a moment as all he saw were Eligos and the currently half submerged Spartan he himself had put there. "Speaking of...what say you, Lieutenant Iascoe?" A pause, teasing for an answer. "I see in your mind, I know what you have endured. The promises of ONI, only to see your brother and sister wasted in a mission intended to fail. The parents you can't even remember, the monsters that took everything…"
He stepped down now, toward the drive status console. "And yet now your people embrace those same fiends who would have seen your species burn. Allied with the Sangheili...taking in Jiralhanae Brutes and giving them homes. Isn't that an insult to everything you lost? What they died for?"
The rings came about, slowing, interlocking. And the heavy thump as the rings aligned and the sphere halted. A grid panel in the center suddenly opened, then reacted to reveal a brilliant flare of light. More panels followed suit, beginning a chain reaction while visible distortions could be seen emanating from the spikes, withdrawing a field from around the central sphere.
"Five minutes to gravity drive activation. Coordinates recalculated and confirmed. Oro system, distance one-five-zero-five-eight point three-two-two parsecs from Sol System. All crew to fold jump stations."
The force and raging heat tore through the hallway, pushing the mass of shadows that surrounded the Elder forward and obscuring all sight. The crackle of personal shielding grids trying to withstand the force and failing gave way to paint being scorched off, and the sense of a sudden force that slammed into Eliza like three tons of power. She saw it, briefly, the movements that hadn't been seen in almost a millennium, the unparalleled speed that had been mastered by only two Orders she knew of.
And now, after it seemed the world had slowed to a crawl, flames flowing like liquid around her as she was flung back, everything came crashing full force, and her back slammed on the deck.
And over her was the matriarch. Singed, burnt, but still alive...and breathing heavily.
"You insult me with parlor tricks...reliance on your machines and out-worlds spells...this is why our clan fell...because your generations became weak and complacent, and forgot everything that they were taught about the powers they were given." The ancient woman snarled as she leaned down, scratching the surface of the armored helmet. "The three of you are a sad last legacy for us to rely on. You should be ashamed."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 8, 2019 1:38:44 GMT
Eliza growled through gritted teeth as stared up at the Elder. "Ye really donna know me, if that's what ye think," she countered as she snapped a hand up to grasp for her collar. "I've na forgotten shite. A mad titan decided ta wreck th' fabric of reality centuries ago. I've done what I can ta survive in a world that's grown increasingly more dangerous, and ye've thrown in yer lot with what? Did ye forget why our clans existed ta begin wi?" she demanded. "Ye failed the first time, allowin' fear of a prophecy ta end up bringin' it ta pass." Her grip tightened as she pulled, drawing the Elder's face to mere inches within her faceplate. "That time I can perhaps, all these years later, forgive. But allyin' yerself with th' entity here? This aberration? We are kin, however ye care ta acknowledge that, and ye spit on th' greatest our.." Eliza hesitated as she considered what had actually been said. "Three. As best I have been able ta tell, Cereza and my mam passed some time ago. Explain yerself," she ordered, loosening her grip marginally. "Quickly. I'm na fer flyin' through that Void if I can avoid that."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Hearing the pair hit the deck plating somewhere off to his right, Vincent ignored Eligos' scream from behind him. The moment the man's goals involved activating the gravity drive he had solidly placed himself in direct opposition to everyone else aboard the ship, placed all of them in danger for whatever mad agenda he wished to see fulfilled. Nothing he said at this point could be trusted unless it could be corroborated by someone else on board. The only thing that had saved him from being actively targeted was the knowledge that it likely wasn't his fault - not completely, as it had only begun after direct mental exposure to whatever it was inhabiting the ship.
And while aware of Eligos, the Spartan, Weir, the other corpse in the chamber, a very familiar hard case that should not have been there...
Only one thing mattered to Vincent.
Coming to a low crouch at the base of the gravity drive, his bulk nearly flattened to the deck underneath it to avoid the spinning rings, the Spartan went to work as he pulled another adhesive strip from the hardcase on his back. A laugh, and another splash as Bravo Five was thrown once again as Vincent had more or less expected. But, curiously, no immediate action taken against him. The active camouflage seemed to be working, and that was all he needed as far as a window to work with was concerned. Weir may have known he was present, but-
That's right. Keep talking. Every second you give me is a second closer to winning. Vincent thought, feeling the pressure of whatever entity he represented at the back of his mind but able to actively resist it now as his hands went to work, reaching for the cylindrical base of the gravity drive. He knew the ship was in his head. Nothing Weir said came as a surprise as they were all things that Vincent himself had thought or knew at some point. But orders had been orders, and those were all personal demons that he'd laid to rest a long, long time ago. That's all this thing was, though, a parasite, incapable of an original thought or action of its own but able to prey on the thoughts of those within it. And he would do as one did with such diseases - purge it.
Right hand to the gravity drive's base, Vincent would quickly unroll the adhesive strip of micro charges along its circumference, but there was only so far it could go without him moving again. Only about half of the side facing him, and it was a shoddy job by his standards - his standards. Visible, but it would work - it wasn't going anywhere, but the angle of deployment would avoid the hardcase off to his left and all he needed were for the molten copper penetrators to cut. Touching a switch to quickly lock its manual controls to his armor's onboard electronics, Vincent took only the briefest of moments to confirm the charges as primed to detonate.
Five minutes.
Feeling the drive's movement suddenly change, Vincent leapt to his feet and back as the rings began locking into place. Mag locking his armor's boots to the deck and canceling his armor's camouflage to draw attention to himself rather than his work the Spartan would pivot to draw his sidearm, lining up what he hoped would be a headshot as Weir moved to stand by the control console, the increasing white light behind him hopefully hiding his bulk a second or two longer.
And sending the electronic detonation signal to the shaped charges lining the base of the gravity drive as he did so.
Eligos remained still, breathing deeply as he closed his eyes, his senses mostly shot, and yet no pain followed. He refused to have his senses, his perception enhanced. Many others had done so, their views of the world now permanently stained by a corporate filter...He wanted to remain pure and himself. And yet it was in these moments that he pondered getting at least an external protective layer to them all cause holy fuck everything hurt.
He allowed his eyes to open, shapes and colour slowly returning, as sound tried to pierce through the shrill cry of the grenade, distant and amorphous. He pushed away from the console, taking in the scenery around him, observing as everyone he could see was busy. Busy with someone else. He had been overlooked, for now at least. Good. Weir thought him a disciple, the soldiers thought him a betrayer, or at least compromised...and in a way wasn't he? Accepting all of this, this living, walking hell. The dead rose, the dead haunted, reality made no fucking sense and he was honestly fine with it at this point.
He moved, slow steps taking him away from the console, walking across the other side, opposite from the pale man, and in some way mirroring his motions once more. An overlooked guy in a curse-haunted ship with two very live grenades in his hands. Almost sounded like a bad joke. The kind you would hear in a border bar by a space-port. A deep breath, adrenaline taking its hold, washing away anger. Washing away aggravation. No...there were two super-soldiers in the room and one...whatever the fuck he was. He couldn't win by being fair. He couldn't win by playing by the rules. A faint shimmering click called his attention, singing to him in heavenly tones as it exposed what he had been waiting for. Yes...first light, and next would be darkness, just as he had seen, just as he had been shown from when the vessel had first jumped, so very long ago.
As the Spartan revealed himself he would turn and face the man in the wall, both arms reaching back for momentum as he hurled the live grenades. Not at the gate. Not at the man. Well, not to him specifically, but behind him. He had revealed that he COULD be affected, at least if he wasn't looking...and he was turned towards the opening anomaly. He wanted the grenades to detonate right behind him, explode at a wonderful 10,100 m/s, hopefully enough to hurl the fanatical voice of the vessel through the object of his own creation.
The man tensed. He'd been here before, this same impasse, and he reached out as he realized what the Spartan had done. The shot that rang out hit him before the sound did, a nine millimeter slug firing at over mach three and slamming right between his eyes.
He stumbled. The blinding light finally reached critical mass and collapsed into a now deep infinite blackness, a perfect sphere of nothingness. With a step, he would struggle, even though the ragged and gaping hole in his head was slowly closing. "You can't...kill her."
Nothing.
The charges sat where the Spartan had laid them, but even with a repeated signal, they sat cold. For a moment, the man would begin to smile as he realized something had gone wrong, even by chance, and then the scream as he was flung forward by a vicious explosion that sent him through the air and right into the blackness. A series of sparks from where the systems console had been decimated by the blast, and only silence followed. The tone over the ship intercoms that another minute had elapsed would come and go. The only other sound then was the approaching footsteps down the containment corridors that soon were revealed as Miller and Anna.
"Please tell me that you were planning that this whole time," came the voice of the blue armored Spartan as he pulled himself out of the coolant.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
A lot of things would happen in very quick succession.
First and foremost would be the momentary satisfaction of a perfectly landed shot - and then the irritation as Weir simply shrugged it off, the wound beginning to close as he spoke and the lack of concussive force and flash behind Vincent told him that the charges had failed to detonate. Always a risk when using remote triggers, always a possibility, but the cause didn't matter here. They didn't have time to figure out why, and time would seem to slow down even further as adrenaline flooded Vincent's system. The gravity drive behind him was doing something, he could only assume whatever it was that Eligos had been screaming earlier as the light faded into nothing. The charges weren't detonating. They were primed, functional, otherwise in perfect working order, but the remote detonator wasn't working. There were half a dozen other things running through Vincent's mind right until he saw the small objects thrown to the space behind Weir.... the grenades that Eligos had been holding earlier.
Before another thought could pass through his mind, even in its state of elevated perception and processing, Vincent dropped to the deck. A fraction of a second later the grenades would detonate, their shrapnel and concussive force blasting Weir off his feet and through the empty space where the Spartan had been standing a moment earlier - and presumably into whatever it was occupying the space the gravity drive had once been. Head snapping back up the moment the explosion had passed, Vincent would see nothing left beyond the sparking remains of the control panel.
Solutions. Weir's final words as Miller and Anna entered the room, Bravo Five getting back to his feet.
Yeah? Watch us.
Three Spartans, three solutions. They could do this.
"Anna, there. Yank that hatch open, there's a series of relays about eight meters in on your left. That's our emergency shut off." Vincent said, pointing to an otherwise nondescript panel in the spherical room's wall. Aside from Miller she was the only one small enough to fit into the space, and she would have to do. Pulling another flash bang grenade out, Vincent wouldn't pull the pin but instead get started on his own solution, using both hands to pull the upper half of the device away from the grenade's payload - dropping it to the side and keeping the fuse and detonator in his left hand as he turned back to the explosives he'd planted earlier. Careful not to touch the black void that had replaced the gravity drive, Vincent would reach and yank the radio receiver and remote detonator free of the shaped charges.
"Bravo Five, get that crate open. I'm transmitting the access key to your armor, we're going to need that ordnance. Just stay clear of the blast zone." Vincent continued, reaching in to intertwine the wire that originally connected all of the detonators with the repurposed fuse he'd appropriated from the flashbang. It was ugly, it was dirty, and it'd sting like a bitch but the Spartan was fairly confident his armor's shields would hold - even prior to DAW's upgrades to his armor. The shaped charges were pointing away from him but you never wanted to be this close to a detonating explosive if you could avoid it. Unfortunately they were out of options. As certain as he could be that the improvised detonator was functional, Vincent pulled the pin and moved to back away in the two seconds he'd have before the fuse ran its course.
Soon after he had flicked the grenades Eligos had dropped to the floor, knees and crossed arms shielding his body, placing his hardened cybernetics in front of his very, very squishy ad organic self, even through the EVA suit. Metal debris fly at high speed towards and past his form, some even managing to tear the suit to strike at the ceramic plates beneath...he would have to duct tape that later.
Still, once his arms move away from his field of vision and the cyborg rises, he is greeted with...nothing. No Weir in sight, and a perfect black void held in stasis between the interlocking rings. Four minutes to go... As the blue Spartan approached, Eligos' sight would remain fixed upon the black orb, worry and apprehension still clinging to his brain in the form of an irrational worry that something far worse would emerge from the inky depths.
"I could tell you that." He finally spoke, slowly and clearly. "I could tell you that every move since I jacked into the ship was carefully planned and measured. An elaborate facade. Every word, every lie weighted milimetrically to bring about this exact outcome...But I would be lying." He finally concedes, moving his eyes away from the void to look upon the reflective visor of the super soldier, a half sincere, tired chuckle leaving his lips. Oh sweet merciful void it had all been an improvised shit-show...
He calmly walked closer to the drive, standing upon the edge of the coolant pool as the other Spartan barked his orders, desperately trying to bring about his plan, his solution to this problem. He hoped he would succeed. He hoped he was right...but something inside him told him they were attempting physical answers against a metaphysical power. After all Weir himself had said that he and the ship where two different things, that it was alive...and all living things will fight for their life.
A derisive snort as the Elder suddenly was a blur, moving at a speed that the armored witch had not herself attained in nearly a thousand years. She would find herself skidding down the hallway, sparks snapping off as metal clashed and scraped on metal before coming to a halt.
"Foolish child." She hissed as she approached once more, shadows writhing around her as her heels clicked against the panels. "The ultimate fate of all Umbrans is death, consumption in Hell, and then the remains are cast into the Void. Those two blasphemies have never arrived in either realm." The matriarch flexed the fingers of one hand, like she was gleaning her claws as if she were a cat. "Even if anyone could find them, do you really think you can kill this force here in the mortal realm?! It is vast, greater than even the demons we bound ourselves too! The only place a being born of the Void can truly be killed is in the Void!"
A massive blade would form from the shadows, preparing to launch itself at the armored witch. The system gave the five minute count. She stepped toward Eliza and prepared to send her blade of shadows surging forward to split the woman in half. And then came the sudden scream as she snapped herself backward in what was clearly pain. The ship shook, the hull groaning, and the Elder stumbled as something clearly had gone wrong somewhere, and she was feeling it.