Gods of Terra | Dirge - Combat (Part 4)

I’m going to kill Dasaelos—again—for ruining my favorite suit, oh, and also for being a major pain in the ass.

Dasaelos’ left hand gains a platinum sheen as it begins to flow and shift, changing almost like a liquid as it morphs into what looks all the world like an unbelievably ornate, double headed axe with a tubelike shaft, a particle weapon of some sort—that will prove hazardous if it actually connects.

   Now within arms’ reach, I barely dodge the axe blades. The swing is sudden, but the range is too close for a safe particle-strike, so the giant uses his weapon’s blades to lengthen the distance between us and finish me at a safe range, where the splash effect of the radiation will be minimized, enough for his armor to protect him. Damn. For something so big, he’s damned fast!

   Dasaelos is furious, and he screams, more like the roar of an old feature-film Tyrannosaurus rex while attempting to hit me,“Why will you not stand still? Die! Why don’t you die? The Suthidruu promised me the chance to rule supreme! Life! Life eternal! Life in a universe cleansed of all threats to my supremacy! A universe cleansed of YOU!” The ‘shard’s translator function is no longer needed...the time for words is past, and the only thing left saying is the dialogue of life and death. Mine, or his. I must end this lunatic now.

   I pepper the giant’s armor with quick blows, using a strength and durability ordinarily impossible for a being of my size and mass. I rip off armor plates, some woven into the surface of his skin. He screams in pain rather than rage as I grab and rip off the bionic housing for his weapon from his left arm, carrying with it chunks of flesh, bone, and bluish blood spurting from the stump…rich in a kind of alien hemocyanin, the giant, now disconnected from his weapon, unable to use it. His scream is now closer to a peal of thunder from a nearby lightning strike, a scream at such volume that it shakes the mountaintop. I can feel the vibrations through my booted feet.

   My combat rage subsides just a bit as the metaphorical gears turn and I dodge just in time to avoid a right cross to my face from a massive scaly fist. Close call there.

   Systems built into the giant’s armor have cauterized his wounded arm, and all that’s left standing is eight hundred kilograms of mindless reptilian rage, blindly lashing out with tail and fist, maddened with pain and fear, the fear of losing his last chance at immortality and ultimate supremacy as the only living thing in the universe, nothing challenging him, nothing to threaten him, not even Death. Death? That would be me.

   Dasaelos has finally gone over the edge and needs to be put down before he kills someone more worthy than himself. I leap, and land a solid kick to his head, knocking him to the ground, forcing him to crawl to his feet before pathetically collapsing to the ground, with bluish, congealing Rj’lt’ar blood pooling around him. In seconds, it’s all over. I stride over to him. He looks piteous.

   I reach over to the fallen giant, and take a ring of glittering transparent metal from his right middle finger. Dasaelos is quite dead. The ring shines with its own light as I close my hand around it, crushing it. A cascade of sparks erupts from between my fingers as Dasaelos’ means of life-extension, body-hopping technology stolen from an ancient being known as the Crawling Clonelord, is destroyed. It doesn’t look like he will bother anyone ever again. 

   Poor Dasaelos, so afraid of death that he was terrified of truly living. He never knew how to enjoy the simple things in life, as well as the beautifully complex. I forget my enmity toward him for a moment and think a short eulogy to commemorate the fallen.
  Now, back to work.


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