"When did you say that?" I asked, looking at the explosion from the moon hitting the ground.

I'd had to create several barricades of Nebula, ones in front of István and myself. I tossed one to Celistar as a courtesy as it undoubtedly took a bit out of her to create such a massive attack. I was coming to the realization that she was a bit of a glass cannon in that aspect.

This felt like it explained why she had never taken the fight to the Umbral Covenant… they'd just drown her in numbers. She would have trouble just with this outpost, if my guess was right, much less something more substantial.

She stared at me for a bit, and I felt a sort of tingling at the back of my head as her look slowly turned dark.

"I can't hear you in my head anymore," I said as the realization hit me. "Our link has been broken."

"Yes," she said, "It would seem that whatever we encountered in the city has reset the effects of our bonded fate."

I met her eyes. "How do you feel about that?" It seemed a little odd to get into the subject in the middle of an actual battle, but I could tell there was no one of note nearby and the air outside my barriers was an impenetrable mire of dust and debris. Even now, little bits of gravel were falling onto the white-gold sheen surrounding us.

"A sense of loss, to be honest," she admitted. "I had grown to enjoy our little 'tea parties', and Steeve's company."

"Pretty sure you can have that any time you want," I pointed out, and a Steeve appeared in both our arms at the same time. The two copies waved a paw at each other and then went back to napping. I couldn't tell if she was taking cues from Viktor or the other way around, with regard to sleeping habits.

"Very true," Celistar said, then gave Steeve some pats. The fox was quietly chittering at the touch. Then her eyes narrowed, and she looked out into the opaque nothingness.

I sensed what she did a few moments later, a blur of even darker energy peering through the inky gray of her attack had turned the cave into.

There was clearly someone who had survived that, which meant that I had a proper fight on my hands. I set my Steeve on her Steeve, and the two started play fighting each other, chasing around her arms and across her shoulders, shrinking down to create more room to romp around.

Leaving that silliness behind, I strode out into the cluttered landscape, blasting away the dust with Nebula as I went. No sense in trying to hide myself, since in this case I wanted to be the target.

Viktor appeared next to me in an instant, skidding to a stop like he'd known where I was but not well enough to avoid being surprised when I popped out of the gloom, which was likely the case. I don't think he had my vision, so it was interesting he'd gotten this close.

"Dibs," he said, confusing me. I'd no clue what he meant.

"What?"

"I want to fight them first." Oh, yeah, that made sense. It occurred to me that he probably found me through whatever spider's sense he used to find the most entertaining things to fight. The power it would have taken to withstand Celistar's attack meant that this unknown individual was definitely up there on the punchability index.

"Sure," I said, "all yours, big guy."

"Thanks!" He said, grinning like Liam when you gave him anything with sugar in it. The appreciation in his words - or 'word', rather - felt both deep and genuine.

I pushed away the last of the murk between us and this unknown foe, and Viktor ran down the path as it cleared. It was clear that he had no intention of sounding out his latest 'Vikt-im' and was instead going directly for the kill.

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A pair of almost offensively blue eyes, deep-set into a thin face appeared, with a set of robes similar to the ones we'd seen on the others. This particular set was considerably more bedraggled, with not a panel fully intact. He seemed annoyed if resigned to Viktor appearing, and was gathering power in his hands, as well as his feet, similar to what I'd done before.

I didn't bother relaying any of this to Viktor. He clearly had some way to tell, given what he'd done in finding me earlier, as well as knowing this enemy was here without anyone to tell him so. I trusted in his well-honed skills and very calloused knuckles to perform as advertised.

With a scowl, the man threw his hand up, and a massive chunk of jagged rock flew into the air, ripped from the ground directly in Viktor's path.

He sidestepped the impediment, which proved wise when it devolved into a mess of dripping fluid in the next moment, hissing with steam and bubbling up when it touched the ground as the enemy caster released his grip on it.

Viktor's lightning-quick punch lashed out towards his unprotected face, and he barely superimposed a hand in time, flowing with more of the corrupted energies. A wet slap rang out as the impact hit home, and he was blown back.

It wasn't without its consequences for Elder Mountain, however, as I could see the same sort of corrosive reaction against his Nebula, chewing it up and damaging the skin slightly. Considering the things I'd seen Viktor punch, that was really saying something. He shook his hand off as one might shake away some light tension and brought the fist back up, the skin merely redder than usual, hard to tell apart from the light coating he wore.

Now that I was seeing it used this way, I realized that his habit of liberally coating his forearms and fists in a light to medium layer of his opponents seemed less like some kind of ritual and more like a form of defense. Any effects that would otherwise corrode, set alight, or otherwise injure his fists first had to react with the unfortunate remains of those prior.

First come, first served, if you will.

Viktor drew some distance, moving like a rocket for someone of his size. I'm pretty sure he was at least as fast as István, if less nimble. It was very impressive. Obviously, there was only so much one could do to overcome all that mass, but within those boundaries, I doubted there was anyone approaching his weight class that was remotely in that category of agility.

As a bonus, it seemed to completely freak out his opponent, who eyed my Elder with the wary attention of an animal that was prey and knew it was.

Hey, not my fault you picked the wrong side of the fist to be on. You should have thought about that when you got up this morning.

I heard a bang as Viktor broke the stalemate, hurtling inward and slamming his fist not into the man, but into the ground directly in front of him, causing an explosion of rubble that excoriated unprotected skin and likely cracked a few ribs if not giving him more serious internal damage.

The man wiped away blood from a slice above his eye; even the red of that a more dingy maroon than I would have expected. Celistar, who at some point had moved up to watch, blanched a little.

"So they succeeded," she said. "They've subverted the Will of the World." She turned to look in my direction. "That's part of why they wanted me so much, you know. As the sole heir of an entire concept, they were certain that if they had me, they could figure out how to manipulate the concept itself."

"How successful were they, really?" I asked, looking at the maroon blood. It seemed a little less viscous, but otherwise identical to what I would bleed. I wasn't sure if I would know if Viktor bled, seeing as it'd just blend in, and István would probably never let himself have the potential to get that dirty in the first place.

"Very, if they can change themselves enough to alter the appearance of their very life-force." She sent me another glance. "I assume you can see it; your eyes gaze farther than most."

I quite honestly hadn't looked so closely as to see anything but the man's overall energy flow, but now that she was directly bringing up the subject, I stared with intent.

The sudden flare of light in my eyes distracted the man, who paid dearly for it as Viktor bypassed his corrosive protection to get an almost unguarded hit on his side, sending him careening away with a yelp not unlike the noises I'd heard when our drunk neighbor took his misplaced aggression out on his dogs.

Gramps had straightened him out real fast after he heard that. The man eventually moved (or ran) away, and we kept the dogs until they died of old age around the same time Gramps did.

Gran liked to say they were so loyal they followed him all the way into the grave, and I was keen to believe her.

As he crashed into the ground, I saw the sudden burst of energy that he used to break his fall. It came in many places around his torso, all areas I was familiar with. It moved in fits and jerks away before juddering along the limbs. It looked almost like a charcoal paste, with a greenish-blue hue to it.

"What is he doing?" I asked her.

"Burning his life away," she said, her face grim. "In exchange for power."

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