SILAS

  Okay. Let's get on with it. Nobody likes an extra-long death sequence. The drama can only be sustained for so long. And who cares anyway.

  The HERALD's fingers encircle my throat, tightening. Any second now my throat will be crushed, neck bones shattered, muscles tearing in shredded ligaments. But it's taking longer than I suspected. What gives? Just kill me already. It's not like there's anything I can do to fight back. Not if I want to give the people here a chance to survive. Time for Shiloh and the others to get away.

  Maybe it's better that it's taking longer. It'll buy some more time for my friends. The people in my life.

  That's something at least.

  ...something...

  It's getting increasingly difficult to think. To focus. That's another sign the end is getting close. That's the thing about people on their deathbeds. Sometimes they're not completely aware of what's happening. Their energy is seeping away. Their faculties. Their desire to live. Their desire for...anything.

  Though my eyes are clenched shut, I can see vague shapes, emerging out of the little spots of light on the other side of my eyelids. The longer I stare at them, the more concrete they become. Shadows merge. An abstract silhouette shifts into a likeness of my sister Gemma. Typical brain, looking for patterns, for order, for meaning. But the longer I stare, the more it seems like it's really her, wearing one of her hoodies--the black one--with the cowl pulled up. I can even see her face. Staring at me. Frustrated. Disappointed.

  She cocks her head. "...seriously!?"

  Her voice echoes in my head like the tinkle of a bell.

  I can't move--I'm suspended in the air, obviously. The pressure on my throat holds my voice at bay. I can only look at her. With a look I hope conveys what I'm feeling: incredulity.

  I mean, c'mon. It's not like I didn't try. I'm outmatched and outgunned here. Everybody dies someday.

  Why should I die like an animal, kicking and scrabbling and desperate? Can't I at least go out with a little bit of dignity? With at least some feeling of closure, accepting my fate?

  "No!"

  Gemma throws back her hood, stomping toward me until she's standing just a couple paces ahead, glaring up at me. Here, in this hallucinatory vision, there's no HERALD holding me up--it's just me, floating in a dark room, while my sister crosses her arms, judging me.

  "It's okay to lose," she says. "I wouldn't fault you for it. But not like this. When are you gonna stop whining and moping, already?"

  Probably...never?

  Scowling, Gemma reaches up and grabs me by the shirt, yanking me close. I realize I'm suddenly back in my human form, wearing jeans and flannel overshirt.

  "Some day, somehow, we will see each other again. And when that happens, I'm going to punch you right in your stupid face!"

  She breathes. In. Out. Her expression softens, the arch of her eyebrows inverting. She's still gripping my shirt, but it's less an act of aggression, and more of an attempt to hold me close.

  "But that day hasn't come yet. You're not done yet. You hear me?"

  Gemma. Fuck. I...I shouldn't have--

  "No." Her face twists into a snarl again, though her eyes still sparkle with a tenderness I know I don't deserve. "You don't get to apologize yet. You have people depending on you. You have a world to save. Now...GO!"

  She shoves me. And whether I want them to or not, my eyes snap open.

  It's still happening. The HERALD holds me by the throat, examining me with indifferent eyes while he slowly chokes the life out of me.

  It's taking a long time. And I think I know why. I can feel my Nanobit reserves continuously flowing into my shield system, protecting me.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Despite everything, I still have a lot to live for. I don't want to die, just yet.

  I'm not going to.

  That doesn't mean I'm going to go hog-wild, hit him with the Level Two Blast. That, I cannot afford to do. Not here, not right now. But that doesn't mean I need to give up just yet.

  First things first. Get my feet back on the ground. Get back some measure of control.

  The plasma sword won't work. I've already seen that. What else can I try?

  Hear me out. What if I were to try and use the plasma sword...again?

  What could go wrong?

  With one hand, I grip the HERALD's wrist, doing my best to try and alleviate the pressure of my own weight against my attacker's fingers and palm. With my other hand I summon the plasma sword again. This time, I use Razor Protocol to fashion the blade, honing the edge into something fine and brittle, something sharp enough to cut the air itself, even if it might break after only one use. Then I infuse Blast, causing yellow plasma to ignite across the surface, mostly concentrated along the cutting edge.

  I swipe downward, aiming for the HERALD's forearm. A blinding flash emits from the blade as the Blast along the edge goes off.

  The blade shatters. There's a big chunk of it still lodged halfway into the HERALD's arm.

  No reaction. Not even a flinch.

  Shit.

  "You're holding back," Revenant says. He stands a ways behind the HERALD, the tail of his coat shifting subtly in the breeze coming in through the hole in the Cloister's roof. "You don't have to. Our task is more important than the people in this bunker. You're more important. You're the key to all this. That's why I won't hold it against you. In fact, I'm advising you. Just...do it."

  No.

  With both hands, I grab the back part of the blade stuck in the HERALD's arm. I push. With everything I have. With all the will I have left. I summon Blast, creating two cannons, coming out the back of my elbows.

  (Did I know I could do that? Was I even able to do this before?)

  I charge up a series of miniature Blasts, making my palms jackhammer against the blade. Even though my palms are over the fat side of the blade, it feels like at any moment my hands might be sliced in half from the pressure. But I keep pushing, keep expending energy, as the shipping container behind me thunks and bangs from the holes being shredded through it by the plasma.

  There's a creaking sensation, something giving away. Then a loud snap as I manage to shove the blade all the way through the HERALD's forearm.

  The pressure on my neck finally disappears. I land on my feet. The blade rattles on the floor. The arm lands next to it with a fleshy smack.

  I step back from the HERALD, reaching up to feel the ring of soreness around my neck.

  The HERALD examines me seriously. Interesting...

  A stream of smoke issues out of the open wound where his forearm used to be. No blood though. And he doesn't seem to be too worried about the injury.

  So there's still some will left in you...Silas...

  ...what.

  Somewhere behind the HERALD, there's a loud crack, like a gunshot.

  The HERALD turns, while I circle around him, putting more distance between us.

  Parallax is crouched toward the middle of the Main Hall, in a sort of superhero-landing position, cracks splitting outward in the concrete under her feet. She stands, twirling her glowing purple staves, brandishing them.

  After performing some kind of threat reassessment, the HERALD summons his flaming sword again, positioning himself so he has both of us in his line of sight.

  "What's your status?" Parallax says. Her eyes are on the HERALD, but she's clearly talking to me.

  "Oh, you know," I say. "Never been better."

  Which is far from the truth. Whatever advantage I had from Overcharge is basically gone at this point. My body has taken a beating, and my Nanobits are getting low.

  Parallax doesn't say anything, still focused on the HERALD. Her battle mask snaps into place. She coils up, then splits into dozens of different holograms, dispersing throughout the room.

  The HERALD dashes forward with maddening speed, attacking one hologram after another, engulfed in a flurry of them.

  Several of those holograms dash back and forth around me. One of them comes to a stop, looks at me, lowers her mask.

  "I have a plan," she says. "I've gone over it. Many times. There's only one way. Are you ready?"

  I nod. "Ready as I'll ever be."

  "Good." She pauses. "I don't want to save you. Not after what you did. What Revenant did. But it's the right thing. It's...what Razor would have wanted."

  Before I can respond, her mask clicks back into place. She scoots past me, brushing my chest with her arm. As she touches me, both our bodies turn fuzzy for a fraction of a second. Next thing I know, I'm staring at my own back as Parallax rushes off. She's taken on my appearance. And I've taken on hers. A holographic overlay.

  I look down at myself, at what appears to be a slim, feminine, versatile body. I look down at the glowing staves in my hands, pulsing and fizzing. So there's an auditory element to the illusion as well.

  Well. Time to move. Time to be Parallax.

  My long black cape ripples behind me as I join the fray of dancing holograms.

  The HERALD is making quick work, slicing through holograms with his sword, causing them to flicker and disappear. There's only a few left.

  Just as he turns his eyes on me, Parallax--still disguised as myself--runs past.

  The HERALD shifts his focus. Don't think you can simply run away from this, Silas. No one can run from God.

  Parallax makes a massive leap, boosting off the crane equipment at the back of the room, and up through the hole in the ceiling.

  Turning his back to me, the HERALD crouches. He bursts up into the air with a great flap of his giant wings, zipping through the gap in the roof in pursuit.

  No need to think twice. I follow Parallax's lead, leaping up and jumping off of the crane and out into the open air.