Author's Preface
There are 5 distinct types of Uniqueness that can manifest within an individual.
Enhancement strengthens one’s physical condition under specific restrictions. Iconification manifests a spiritual item as an expression of an ability. Cognition allows for physical interaction with the spirit world. Conqueror manipulates bounded fields and imposed rules.
The final type rejects the notion of a singular self. It belongs to those whose identities have fractured beneath irreconcilable contradictions.
[Invocation - Release]
A most wicked power. A most horrifying power. It is with this power, Antonomasia , that Derrick of the Problem Children awakens his strength.
[ Golden Rule ]
His expression was different.
His cadence was different.
Everything about the man was physically identical to his previous state, yet the malice he exuded was not that of a man. It was a fiend’s malice. A demon’s malice.
He arose from the bloodstained street, his body jittering like a doll on strings. His bones had been broken, yet he stood nonetheless. His windpipe had been crushed, yet he spoke with the meticulousness of a scholar. This was not healing. No, something so grotesque could never be identified as such.
It was closer to a reanimation, a broken toy forced to play at its master’s whims.
The angels, having noticed this clear shift in power, lunged forward, their spears poised to kill. And yet, their spears pierced naught but air.
“...?”
This speed—it resembled that of their great leader, Skadhi Bhattacharya. Energy could not come from nowhere, of course. This wasn’t a cheap cartoon where momentary feelings could grant one a power boost. That is an immutable law.
So where? Where could this energy be coming from?
Unfortunately, Skadhi’s angels would never find the answer to their question, as Derrick had already cut them down. One by one, dozen by the dozen, the elite army would be torn apart with the elegance of a noble demon, all without a word spoken or a cry uttered.
Once more, Derrick lunged, his blade poised towards Skadhi’s neck.
“Oh…?” Skadhi’s eyes widened at the sight of his discarded prey, animated from beyond the abyss. “A uniqueness with a specific condition, yes? Are you perhaps an Enhancer?”
“...” Derrick deigned not to reply. Though his attack failed at killing his target, the dynamic of the fight had clearly shifted in a favorable direction. Skadhi blocked the attack with his hand.
Did he perhaps detect danger within the avenger’s blade? Or perhaps he found the ordeal amusing? Both could be true, or neither at all, yet that mattered little to either party. The avenger had yet to begin his hunt.
“Activate - Vector. Boost.”
“—!”
Back-to-back talisman activations were an incredibly dangerous tactic. Not only was Derrick’s body under an enormous amount of stress from boost, but vector further accelerated his bodily deterioration.
At least, that was how things should have transpired.
Cut away the flesh and reveal the glistening bone. Shed thy meager vessel and achieve heights unknown.
The familiar adage repeated in Derrick’s mind, granting him the spirit to push forward, despite the incalculable damage. With every slash, his sinews tore. With every blow, bones broke. And yet, the damage was not merely on Derrick’s side. Skadhi, too, was feeling the pressure of the relentless onslaught.
“That’s right, hypocrite! Rage with all your heart! Lament your pitiful ideals in your grave!”
With a Mang-empowered fist, Skadhi unleashed three powerful blows into the mad warrior’s abdomen. Bhattacharya struck with such force that Derrick’s insides liquified under the immense pressure. Despite this, the man had yet to relinquish his sword, its deadly blade descending.
“Ha! Not even that is enough? Maybe you weren’t an Enhancer after all?”
He grabbed Derrick's head and slammed it into the ground. Once, twice, thrice, a dozen times, each with renewed vigor. More than anything, he wanted to break this so-called hero of justice.
Yet that alone was not enough to put an end to his rampage.
Derrick, despite having his skull crushed into a pink paste, retaliated with a strike of his own, cutting away at countless city blocks. It was here that Skadhi would first draw blood.
———
“Tell me, are you truly intent on fighting me right now?”
“...”
No response.
Throughout the course of our duel, Melethusda had yet to utter a single word. She merely advanced, dual daggers in hand. In terms of swordsmanship, it was clear that I had the advantage, yet her understanding of Mang was far more refined than mine.
If my [Flow] technique could be described as an overwhelming explosion of energy, then hers was a flowing stream, gliding over rock. Despite her blade’s minuscule reach, they had yet to crack under the pressure of the Broken Sword of Promised Victory.
It was then that I stepped back to rethink my approach. Melethusda did not continue her pursuit.
Even with my Uniqueness active, I cannot find an appropriate opening in my opponent. Close range won’t work. In that case…the environment would do.
“Hmph!”
I cut away at the surrounding cityscape, slashes akin to paint strokes on a canvas, causing the high-rise buildings to fall apart and crash to the earth. Even she could not bear the weight of thousands of tons of concrete, steel, and glass.
“…Hm.” A low exhalation, and then, a flood of black smog.
“—!”
My vision was entirely obscured. Where would she attack? What type? What size? The situation was too unpredictable to judge wisely. I must step back!
A moment later, a ghastly figure, a terrifying beast, awakened from beneath the thickened dark. Her arms had morphed into the claws of a wild hound, her skin overgrown with a thick coat of fur. Melethusda had not changed in size. Her countenance remained unchanged. And yet. Her aura had become far more terrifying.
“Invocation - Release: Barghest of the Saintly Churchyard .”
The high-rise buildings had disappeared. Gaseous waste was all that remained of my failed assault.
Her Uniqueness was not mere corrosion; it was evaporation. Even a single direct hit would end in my demise.
“You talk too much.”
“…?”
“I am a citizen of Urr, the loyal servant of Supreme President Bhattacharya. Conversation is unnecessary.”
“Is that really true?”
“…”
Radio silence.
Wasting no time in her assault, she lunged towards me, her oversized claw barreling down on me. I blocked with the Sword of Promised Victory, yet the sheer force exerted over me caused my feet to sink into the ground.
“Kh—!”
Just breathing near her felt unbearable. The skin on my hands was slowly corroding, my [Flow] being the last line of defense against death. I needed to break, and quickly!
I redirected the downward slam to my side and rolled to steady my equilibrium. This was not a fight I could win head-on. I couldn’t afford to waste all of my strength this early into the invasion, nor could I utilize magic to offset the corrosion.
“In that case….”
“—!”
I deactivated my Uniqueness and dashed away in the opposite direction. It was shameful, truly, but I was no longer a warrior of the Eternal Twilight. I was Ereth, a soldier of Wisteria. My pride must never take priority over the mission. Never.
For now, all I could do was stall out this engagement and call for reinforcements.
“Activate - Link .”
The Link talisman functioned as a long-distance communication device between two distinct points. With this, there was a slim chance that I could communicate with the lieutenant.
“Lieutenant, this is Ereth of the Problem Children speaking. Do you read me?”
“...”
“Lieutenant?”
Having heard no reply, I switched my communication channel to General Mai’wen, as well as Keresaspa and Atreides.
Radio static. That could mean one of three things. Either the channels in question were offline, out of range, or intercepted. The first option was the least likely, while the second was a tad more plausible but still a far-fetched conclusion.
District 1 might have some sort of jamming signal, or perhaps the world barrier itself was interfering with magic signals. Either way, my allies would not know of my plight, and escape was not an option either.
My only remaining option as of now was exhausting her Mang supply.
No ability in this world was infinite. Uniqueness is powered by Mang, and without it, the ability will automatically deactivate. Even amateurs knew not to dispense so much energy at once.
The smog explosion earlier must have taken a decent chunk of her reserves. If not, then I only have one other option.
I had to use my father’s technique.
Preferably, I would have saved my trump card for Skadhi, but this opponent leaves me no choice. One strike, one kill.
Darting through the urban jungle, I deftly evaded Melethusda’s advance. Rather than playing a losing game, I strategized around my greatest attribute, my agility. My physicality, though not strictly human, was comprised of a material comparable to fast-twitch muscle fibers, allowing me to generate explosive power. Coupled with resilient joints and strong tendons, my legs essentially acted as superhuman springs.
Even with her demonic transformation, she could just barely keep up with me.
It was then that I reached my destination—an indoor gymnasium.
I lept through a small window, landing at the bottom of an empty pool. Melethusda recklessly followed, leaping into the air and attacking with a downward strike, collapsing the entire roof of the building.
“Kh—!” I blocked the attack, but barely. Her physical prowess was incredibly high, and the corrosive smog made it all the more difficult to fight off her advances.“That poison…it’s really unfair, you know that?”
“Then allow me to relieve you of your burden.”
“G-GAAH!”
Melethusda had, for the first time, made an irritated expression. My provocative comment must have hit a nerve. She increased the output of her smog a dozen-fold. The pool beneath us had long since corroded as we sank towards the planet's core.
Even [Flow] was no longer enough. I was dying, and quickly. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Thus, I summoned the Broken Sword of Promised Victory, preparing for my final assault.
Divine Constructs were not merely flashy decorations. They were the will of the gods themselves, capable of carrying distinct abilities and traits. The Sword of Promised Victory, though but a shell of its former self, contained one such ability— Resonance .
As the fabled weapon of the Immortal Sword Saint, it possessed the ability to both understand and actualize the wishes of others. In other words, it was the embodiment of everyone’s hopes and dreams.
In life, even my father could not awaken its true power, so it was natural for anyone to assume that I, a shoddy imitation, was utterly unworthy of the blade. I, too, harbored such doubt.
So why? Why did my father, the legendary hero of his era, grant me this sword?
I, in my infinite arrogance, believed I could save them all.
I couldn't save anyone, and my life ended in spectacular failure.
My father had deemed himself a failure, a person beyond saving. If even he could not save the weak and the strong, the righteous and the heinous, then what good was I?
Though the answer to this question continued to elude me, the fact still remained that I am my father’s successor. I am the Son of the Legendary Hero Zoltin.
And so, I will carry on his will. If I cannot believe in myself, then I’ll believe in the person who placed his faith in me.
“Come, Blade of Promised Victory!”
With a virile command, I gathered my Mang into the Broken Sword of Promised Victory, its majestic gold purging Melethusda’s darkness. I could feel it. My blade pulsed with a familiar warmth, as though it had always been by my side. This was the power of my father’s wish.
As an emanation of Twilight itself, none could defend against this technique. With this, I will bring the duel to a close!
[Crepusculo Perfusus]
I swung, the blade of light cleaving the devil hound in two. The black smog was dispelled as the rejuvenating energy swallowed us whole. The resistless shockwave of Mang didn’t stop there. It reached towards the atmosphere, colliding with the weakened world barrier in two.
It held up for but a moment, but Atreides’ sabotage had given me the opportunity I needed.
“Cut through!”
With a final force of will, the world barrier fell, and with it, the enemy's primary defense. The full brunt of the invasion had begun.