Aetheral Space

The world erupted into light.

The Shepherdess raised a hand to shield her eyes as waves of air pressure buffeted over her, sending her clothes billowing out. It was as if she'd suddenly stepped into the middle of a hurricane. Her smile widened.

This was very good. A Supreme should be nothing if not a living hurricane.

Besides, this was something the Shepherdess had been eager to see for herself. Ruth Blaine was notoriously stingy with this ability, mostly due to its destructive potential. The Direwolf Set was the Skeletal Set improved and elevated via combination with the Revolutionnaire Set and the pseudo-Aether burn it created. The Monarque Set, on the other hand, was the child of Revolutionnaire and Noblesse.

In appearance at least, it was quite imposing.

A giant ovoid shape, big enough to dwarf the Shepherdess, rose as a silhouette as it floated out from the raging winds. Its surface -- eggshell white -- became clear as it floated over the ground, the light that had heralded it fading away. Protruding from the front of the divine egg, like something was trying to push its way out, was the grinning countenance of a human skull.

Empty sockets observed the Shepherdess with utter odium. She grinned back at them.

The cape of the Revolutionnaire Set had not become a scarf for this transformation. Instead, it had enlarged and split itself -- becoming six scarlet wings, like those of an insect, waving in the air behind the Monarque Set, embers sparking at their tips. A butterfly of death, ready to exact vengeance.

Beautiful.

It opened fire.

The Shepherdess skipped through her retreat -- disappearing for seconds at a time as she was teleported to the end of her pre-planned path. If she hadn't been able to do that, things might have gotten a little difficult. Blasts of light and force were erupting from every inch of the Monarque Set's body, obliterating everything in sight -- reducing this construction site to a pile of molten slag.

She laughed, the pure sound riding subordinate on the wind. This was beyond even her expectations!

Of course, the Shepherdess had done her research on Ruth Blaine's abilities before approaching her. The Noblesse Set was a primarily defensive Aether Armament. When part of the armour was struck, it would shatter and send the force back at the attacker -- protecting the user in the process. The Monarque Set took that principle to the next level.

Not only was it sturdy enough to withstand attacks without shattering, it also now had the ability to amplify the absorbed force before releasing it, much like Zachariah Esmeralda’s Heartbeat Shotgun. As if that weren't enough, what the Set deemed an ‘attack’ had been expanded as well. Even just a gentle breeze could be absorbed and fired back out at a target as a deadly blow.

In short? This was a beast of endless artillery.

The Shepherdess continued to retreat, running through the unfinished halls of the construction site even as the Monarque tore the building apart behind her. She'd done all she needed to here. With the fuel of hatred the Shepherdess had provided, Ruth would continue to bolster her strength and resources for the purpose of hunting her down.

Steered correctly, she'd aim for the throne of the Supreme all by herself.

The Shepherdess turned the corner -- and immediately dropped to her knees, sliding under a slash that had been aimed right for her face. Accelerated movement allowed her to roll and rise to her feet before the attacker could turn to face her… but she didn't take advantage of that. Instead, seeing what had come after her, she just narrowed her eyes in glee.

“Oh Ruth,” she breathed. “You're interesting. You are interesting.”

Opposite her stood the Skeletal Set.

Ruth Blaine did not occupy the dark armour. Instead, it was filled with crackling red Aether, forming a rudimentary skeleton. It turned to face her, its movements strangely fluid, individual pieces swinging in the air like a collection of wind-chimes.

Behind her, the destruction wrought by the Monarque Set could still be heard -- and yet, the Shepherdess laughed.

Ruth Blaine hadn't been capable of this before today. The Shepherdess was certain of that. Equipping one Set while sending another after her as a puppet? If she'd been able to do this before, she'd have done it. There'd be a record of it.

The fuel was already working!

With an inhuman screech, the Skeletal Set lunged at her, red lenses shining in the darkness. Acceleration allowed the Shepherdess to easily weave through the vortex of claws, hopping off the Set's helmet and onto a freestanding support pillar. Smirking, she shook her head.

“Too bad,” she said. “It's a neat trick, but you --”

The Shepherdess' wrist erupted into blood. Immediately, her eyes flicked over to the fresh wound. “Huh?”

She knew better than anyone that Ruth Blaine was in no state to be thinking clearly right now. Ruth shouldn't have been capable of observing the speed of the Shepherdess' movements and adjusting her timing to compensate. She shouldn’t have been capable of reasoning her way to a blow like that.

So… she'd done it on instinct.

Oh, the Shepherdess thought. Oh, this is bad, actually.

The wall exploded inwards as the Monarque Set found her again -- an unearthly roar pouring from its skeletal visage as it continued its endless artillery. A wave of fire and debris approached at a rate that would have driven a lesser warrior to despair. Clutching her wrist in the instant before Chronodissonance reverted the wound, the Shepherdess leapt off the building and allowed herself to fall.

Even then, though, she hadn't truly escaped.

The Skeletal Set pursued her, running down the building on all fours, claws digging into the wall and granting it purchase. The strategy Blaine had adopted in her delirium was a simple one. The Skeletal Set was clearly much faster than the Monarque -- so long as Skeletal kept attacking, Monarque could quickly locate its prey.

Like a hunter and a hound, the Shepherdess thought with more than a hint of pride. Still… I didn't expect you to go this far, Ruth.

The girl had completely lost sight of her earlier restraint. Far above, the construction site was collapsing, supports obliterated by the Monarque Set's rampage. One of the massive building automatics toppled over and fell -- down, into the streets below. Where would it land? Who knew?

If this place was populated, would Ruth Blaine even have noticed? It was difficult to say.

This truly was astounding, though. Had the Shepherdess gone in a little too hard, killing all three of Ruth's friends at once? Should she maybe have staggered them for a more progressive breakdown?

Well, whatever. What was done was done, even for her. She’d just have to deal with the consequences.

She manifested her ‘crook’, froze it with Chronodissonance, and kicked off it to launch herself away. At least, that was the plan. At the last second, the Skeletal Set shot towards her, abandoning its legs for a burst of speed -- and slashing at her again. She was sent flying off course as she blocked, zooming towards a nearby street.

Her eyes flicked over to it, scanning the battlefield.

A row of cheap diners and convenience stores. It was pretty sparse this time of night, but of course there were still some pedestrians around. That was fine. She knew what precautions to take.

One second.

In a single second, as the Shepherdess recorded the ‘crook’ and returned it to her grip, she made her preparations.

The physical appearance of Aether -- the coloured sparks -- were quite interesting. Over the course of her thousand years of life, the Shepherdess had investigated many curiosities, and the sparks of course had been one of them. However, she’d never found mysteries nor answers behind their appearance -- as far as she could tell, they were nothing more than a visual marker to indicate Aether usage. Some Aether tics changed the sparks to flower petals or things like that, but that was basically it.

She’d found no great bounty behind the sparks themselves… but manipulating their focus was another story.

The Shepherdess surged her Aether, focusing the sparks until they coated her face, concealing her identity from view. An Aether mask -- a technique of her own creation. So long as she recorded her costume, there was no confirming that this was an appearance of the Shepherdess.

She crashed through the window of the diner, glass slashing and slicing at her skin as she passed through. Chronodissonance was able to near-instantly revert the wounds of course -- glass pulling itself out of her skin as she began her landing -- but the pain remained. That was fine.

Pain was what allowed humans to learn.

Her back thumped against a vending machine, cans of Meep Cola spraying out in the air around her. The waitress screamed, dropping her tray -- the plate it had carried smashing on the floor. There had been only one patron in the diner, luckily, and the Shepherdess had pulped him on the way in. He was still a few seconds from death, but she decided there was no benefit in rewinding his injuries.

She had to prepare for the enemy.

The window finished rewinding, unbreaking itself -- and then the Skeletal Set shot through it, breaking it again. The Shepherdess met its attack with one of her own, tossing a hail of infused cans at the living armour. It simply weaved through them, of course, but then she rewound the projectiles with Chronodissonance -- they pelted against the back of the Set like bullets, lodging inside the empty armour.

At that point, immobilising it was just a matter of hitting pause.

She pointed her ‘crook’ at the suspended Skeletal Set, ignoring the screams of the waitress. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t go so far as using it here, but she wasn’t entirely sure how much it would take to bring down a Set without a person actually in it. Destroying the armour entirely was a safe bet.

“Test Armament One,” she intoned. “Seal release. Authorization of Ruri.”

The weapon changed in her hand -- the appearance of a crook falling away like a snake shedding its skin -- until the Aether Armament was a simple white stick, perfect and stark in its geometry. Chronodissonance ran through the weapon just for a moment, accelerating the charging-up period, and…

…she let it loose.

Space was disemboweled.

A sheer wave of destructive force blasted out from the tip of the Armament, annihilating everything in its path. The Skeletal Set was ripped out of existence. The street outside was ripped out of existence. Hell, most of the building she was standing in was ripped out of existence. All that remained of the waitress were her smoking severed legs, still standing. The Shepherdess strode through the ashes, twirling the Armament in her hands.

The Stick, it was called.

One of the first two Aether Armaments in existence, created by the man who’d later become the Third Supreme -- Granba the Godsmith. He’d been only too happy to give his prototype to an old friend from the revolution. It had served the Supremacy well ever since.

The ability was simple: when it was pointed at a target, it would slowly charge up destructive force until released. In anyone else’s hands, it would be little more than a proof-of-concept for more potent and complex Armaments. In the hands of the Shepherdess and her power of acceleration? It became a wand to wipe away all that threatened the Supremacy’s survival.

As her foot clinked against a left-over scrap of armour, the Shepherdess glanced down at it -- and immediately, her eyes widened. It was white. This wasn’t from the Skeletal Set at all -- it was from Noblesse. They’d swapped places? The power of the Stick had been too much for Noblesse to reflect, but even so, even so, that meant --

-- the Direwolf Set lunged out of the smog, claws aiming for her throat.

It had been manifested improperly, the shape warped and malformed by rage, but if anything that only made it more nightmarish. The helmet -- jaws extended so that it resembled an alligator more than any kind of wolf -- was twisted, protruding from the shoulder while Ruth’s head went unprotected. The Revolutionnaire Scarf was bundled up beneath her throat like a neck-brace. Her eyes were rolled up into her skull, saliva pouring from her lips, her teeth bared in a bestial snarl.

Her right arm hung limp at her side, and above it -- moving independently -- was the claw of the Direwolf. It slashed to take the Shepherdess’ head, and it was only by skipping time that she escaped.

A rare breath of anxiety pouring out of her mouth, the Shepherdess continued to retreat backwards, Ruth Blaine tearing the building to shreds as she pursued. They crashed out of the back of the diner, into the alleyways beyond -- the Shepherdess rapidly skipping up a fire escape to get to the high ground atop an office building. As she landed on the brickwork, she took a moment to compose herself.

This was more intense than she’d expected.

She’d brought additional Armaments and resources just in case, but she hadn’t expected Ruth Blaine to have advanced so far so quickly. From the looks of things, she was barely conscious right now -- but she was still fighting with enough proficiency to put the Shepherdess on the backfoot. Her heart danced with excitement at the potential on display.

But still… it was time to end this.

Ruth Blaine had become stronger, to be sure, but in the process she’d forgotten her restraint. Charging in recklessly after the Shepherdess like this was just inviting disaster. She’d have to give the girl a permanent scar to remind her of that.

Recording the Stick, the Shepherdess bared her fingers like claws -- pinpoint Aether broiling around her fingernails. Losing an eye ought to suffice. The second Ruth arrived, she’d carve away at that face of hers. It was almost a shame… but good education was a bloody affair by nature.

With a flash of red, Ruth leapt up onto the building.

With a flash of pink, the Shepherdess lunged forward.

With a flash of green, a hand squeezed -- and crushed what it was holding.

“Miracle Tag,” said Roman Hitch. “Attack.”

Lightning crashed down from the sky -- and struck the Shepherdess directly, sending her flying backwards, crashing into the wall there. She gasped for breath, and smoke poured out of her mouth, watering her eyes. What had just happened? How had she -- she -- been snuck up on?

Her head snapped to the source of the attack, to the man standing on a crane high above the two of them, watching from what was left of the construction site. Roman Hitch. The military grunt who should have been guarding the apartment. He was looking down on her with a curious smirk on his lips, his eyes like dark suns.

Why was he here?

Restorossi’s Aether ping shouldn’t have had the range to reach him. Had Ellis gotten some kind of signal off before the Shepherdess had killed him? No. There was no way. His death had been instant.

The Shepherdess had considered killing Roman too, but in the end had decided the benefit would be minimal. Ruth had only known him for a couple of months, and introducing his esoteric ability to the scenario seemed like it would have been a recipe for disaster. She was beginning to regret that now -- at the very least, she should have sneakily assassinated him before leaving the apartment. It would have saved this trouble now.

Opposite her, Ruth Blaine staggered forwards. She was running on the afterimages of fumes now, barely standing, the Direwolf Set flickering in and out of existence. Even without the Shepherdess doing anything, she was about to lose consciousness.

She was muttering to herself. “Ellis… Alice… Rex… Robin… Skipper… I… I…”

And with that, she fell, head crashing into the ground as her armour disappeared. The Shepherdess tapped her with a foot, making sure she was fully out, before looking up at the distant Hitch.

“So,” she commented, stepping over Ruth towards the edge of the rooftop. “That ability of yours has some tracking applications, huh?”

Hitch cocked his head. “Nah, not this ability.”

She blinked. “It’s obvious to me now you’re not a normal person. Who’re you working for? Darkstar? The Prince?”

“The who?”

Her inquisitive stare hardened into a glare. “Don’t play dumb. There’s a very short list of people in this world who can sneak up on me. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure most of them are dead. Now answer me: who are you?”

“Well, the thing I’m more curious about,” Hitch scratched his head. “Is who you are. I mean, at first I thought you were some kind of wacko cosplayer, but after seeing you in action I’m starting to think you’re the real deal. The Shepherdess, right? Man, I thought you were just a kid’s tale. Normally, I’d think that’s pretty neat… but I saw what you did to her friends… and, you know, being honest…”

He narrowed his eyes.

“...I think that was a real zero-outta-ten move.”

As he stepped forward, Roman Hitch’s body unravelled -- unravelled into string, string that quickly coiled and bound itself back together into a new shape. A shape that sent a shiver down the Shepherdess’ spine. A shape that caused her to take a rare step back.

Long flowing hair billowed in the wind, each lock a different colour, ties and beads lurking in its depths like ornaments. Black Umbrant eyes loomed like the void, white triangular pupils twinkling as they regarded her. Skin that was, at first, pale as snow -- but quickly turned tan as vibrant life poured into it. The faux-military uniform he’d been wearing exploded out into a bizarre outfit, like a woollen red scarf wrapped haphazardly around the man’s entire body, leaving great sections uncovered.

Red teeth grinned.

“Ah,” sighed the dead man, cracking his fingers -- each one tipped with a gleaming golden thimble. “That’s so much better.”

The Shepherdess swallowed.

Wu Ming.

He leapt from the crane, arms spread wide, strings already spreading out from his form like a spider’s web. The air twisted and played with his hair. His grin opened into a carefree laugh -- a laugh that usurped the wind and dominated all reason.

The one man in this world unbound by anything.