by Lucas Flint
But neither did Bolt want to sacrifice his friends. He would sacrifice his own life in a heartbeat if he had to, but he would never sacrifice his friends or other people, not even to save himself. That wasn’t what heroes did and Bolt was, first and foremost, a hero.
Doesn’t change the fact that I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, though, Bolt thought, his eyes darting from the Dread God to the Dread Priest and back again. Then again, that’s kind of part of being a superhero.
“What are you waiting for, human?” the Dread Priest yelled, practically screeched. “Will you accept the Dread God’s offer or will you allow your closest friends and allies to suffer a most ignoble death?”
Bolt, seeing no choice but to accept the Dread God’s offer, opened his mouth to reply … and that was when all hell broke loose.
Thick shadowy tendrils suddenly rose from the shadows around the Dread God and wrapped themselves around his body and limbs so tightly that he couldn’t move. The tendrils also wrapped around the Avatar, the Dread Priest, and Graalix, securely tying all three of them down to the floor. The Dread Priest screamed in anger, as did Graalix, but the Avatar just grunted and scowled, though he was clearly as displeased as his two comrades at this unexpected turn of events.
“Shadows …?” said the Dread God in disbelief, looking down at his body. “Impossible. The Midnight Menace is dying. He cannot be doing this.”
“That’s because he isn’t,” said a familiar feminine voice from the shadows. “But I am.”
From out of the nearby shadows strode Shade, who walked with her hips swaying and a smirk on her face. Bolt stared at her in disbelief.
“Shade?” said Bolt, gaping when he saw her. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Beams.”
Shade’s smirk grew even wider. “Were? I still am. He just hasn’t shown up yet.”
Before Bolt could ask Shade what she meant by that, a dimensional portal exploded open in front of the Dread God. Two figures flew out of the portal: Beams and Mr. Space, flying on one of the floating chairs from the Adventure’s bridge. Mr. Space was piloting the floating chair, while Beams stood on the back wielding the most beautiful and awe-inspiring sword which Bolt had ever laid his eyes on. Even in the absolute darkness of the Shadowlands, the sword’s crystalline blade shone as brightly as the sun.
With a yell, Beams drove the God Slayer directly into the chest of the Dread God. The Dread God gasped in pain, his eyes widening as he stared down at the blade stuck securely in his chest. Black and purple blood leaked out of the hole in the Dread God’s chest, its wrenched stink smellable even from a distance.
“It’s over, Dread God,” said Beams through a strained voice. “Like Arius of old, I have retrieved the God Slayer, the weapon of the Starborn, which I am using to destroy you. Only I am not Arius. I’m Alexander Fry, son of Jack and Fanny Fry, sidekick to Rubberman, and one of Golden City’s two superheroes. And I am going to add slayer of the Dread God to that title very soon.”
The Dread God met Beams’ eyes, but he seemed incapable of speaking as if the God Slayer had destroyed his vocal chords in addition to whatever other damage it had done.
Then the Dread God’s eyes closed and his head dipped forward and he stopped moving entirely.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Beams made sure to meet the Dread God’s eyes when he stabbed him in the chest. Partially, it was to show dominance over the Dread God, to show him that Beams was no mere mortal who could be easily killed, but that he was a powerful figure in his own right, a true son of Arius, who had no reason to fear the Dread God but who the Dread God had every reason to fear in return.
He also wanted to see the terror in the Dread God’s eyes, to watch the last remnants of his life slip through his fingers and into the afterlife. Beams half-wondered whether an afterlife of any sort awaited the Dread God on the other side or not.
Doesn’t matter, Beams thought, driving the God Slayer deeper and deeper into the Dread God’s chest. If there’s any justice in this world, the Dread God will find himself in a very hot place very soon.
That was why Beams grinned when the Dread God closed his eyes and lolled his head forward. He could feel the Dread God’s heart beating through the God Slayer, but once that stopped beating, he knew that the Dread God was dead.
Even so, he didn’t quite snap out of the reverie he had entered until a keen, eerie wailing noise from below snapped him out of it. He looked down below to see the Avatar, Graalix, and the Dread Priest staring up at him, each one wearing an expression of shock and fear on their faces. The wailing came from the Dread Priest, who was screaming helplessly, unable to free himself from Shade’s shadow. Graalix and the Avatar took the Dread God’s death a little better, but it was obvious that even they were shocked by the Dread God’s death.
Can’t blame them, Beams thought as he yanked the God Slayer out of the Dread God’s chest. He was surprised to find out that the blade was clean. They just saw their god die before their eyes. And I kind of doubt he will rise again on the third day.
“You did it,” said Mr. Space. He was staring at the huge hole in the Dread God’s chest, shaking almost uncontrollably due to his proximity to the Dread God’s body. “I can’t believe it. The Dread God is dead.”
A sudden wooshing sound entered Beams’ ears and in the next moment Bolt was floating next to them. He looked tired and weakened and frazzled, but he was also smiling the biggest grin Beams had ever seen on his face. It was so big that it nearly took up all of Bolt’s face, turning his eyes into small crinkles which shone in the light of the God Slayer.
“Did you guys do it?” said Bolt. He glanced at the Dread God’s corpse. “Did you actually kill the Dread God?”
Beams nodded. “Yep. And it’s all thanks to the God Slayer here.”
Beams waved the sword up and down. Again, it felt as natural as moving his own arm, like the God Slayer had become an extension of his body. He doubted he would ever be able to give up such a powerful weapon, no matter how much money someone might offer him for it.
“That’s an awesome sword you’ve got there,” said Bolt. He reached out toward the God Slayer. “Can I touch it?”
Beams pulled the God Slayer closer to his chest. “Not unless you want to die a horrible death due to not being a son of Arius.”
Bolt folded his arms in front of his chest. “Aw, come on. Not fair that you get an awesome sword capable of killing gods while I don’t get anything.”
“Says the guy who is practically a physical god himself,” Beams said. “Think of it as the multiverse balancing the equation. You’re a lot stronger and faster than me while I get a cool sword that can kill literal gods. Seems fair enough to me.”
“I suppose,” said Bolt, though he still looked annoyed at not being able to wield the God Slayer. “Anyway, what took you guys so long? The Dread God was about to kill everyone before you guys stepped in and saved the day.”
Bolt gestured toward the back of the dark chamber and Beams looked over to see four figures lying prone on the floor. He recognized three of them as Captain Galaxy, Aster, and Hypno, but the fourth—a mysterious knight wearing demonic-looking armor—was completely unknown to him. Shade was walking among the fallen, apparently checking to make sure they were all okay from whatever the Dread God had just done to them.
“Looks like we were just in the nick of time, then,” said Mr. Space. He sighed in relief. “That’s good. Sparky told us you guys were here and were in deep trouble fighting the Dread God himself. We were worried we might not get here in time to save you, but it looks like we just made it.”
“And with a plan to boot,” Bolt added. “Or was that just improv?”
“It was a quick plan we sketched out together on the way here,” said Beams, resting the God Slayer on his shoulder. “Speed was the most important part. We had to count on the Dread God being too surprised by Shade’s tendrils to break free of them, as well as Space and I being fast enough to stab him. If
any of us had hesitated for even a few seconds, the entire plan would have failed and we would all probably be dead by now.”
“So, you can thank us for our brilliant plan,” said Mr. Space, “a plan, it should be noted, which I contributed quite a bit to. If I hadn’t flown the chair, we wouldn’t have been able to reach the Dread God.”
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t gotten the God Slayer, then we wouldn’t have been able to hurt the Dread God at all,” said Beams.
Bolt chuckled. “All right, you two, calm down. We can talk about who contributed more to your plan later. Right now, I think it’s time to—”
“Monsters!”
Beams, Bolt, and Mr. Space looked down at the floor. The Dread Priest was glaring up at them from his place on the floor, anger and hate practically radiating from his eyes like heat from a furnace. The Avatar was also glaring up at them, while Graalix looked at a complete loss as if the death of the Dread God still hadn’t quite set in for him.
“You beasts!” the Dread Priest shrieked. “You killed … y-you killed the Dread God, you wretched little worms!”
“Cry harder, pal,” said Bolt, folding his arms across his chest and smirking down at the Dread Priest. “Your god is dead and he’s not coming back.”
“How dare you mock my sorrow, my pain!” the Dread Priest shrieked again, this time even louder than before. “For eons, I have worked tirelessly every day to lead the Darzen people in worship of the Dread God, to reassure them that he would one day return to lead us all to glory. Yet now all of my work—my entire life’s work—has been reduced to nothing thanks to the interference of creatures which are our genetic inferiors in every way possible.”
“Buddy, if we were your inferiors, we would be dead now and you would be gloating about us,” said Bolt dismissively. “Like I said, cry harder. I heard that making a big fool of yourself in front of your enemies by crying about how they beat you is the best way to win. It’s a secret, though, so don’t tell anyone else.”
“The Mother World …” Graalix muttered over and over again. “The Mother World … gone forever now … the Mother World … she will never come back … never …”
Of the three servants of the Dread God, only the Avatar was silent. He seemed to be just as upset as the Dread Priest and Graalix, but at the same time, Beams thought he saw an expression of relief pass his strange, inhuman features. It was there for only a moment, however, which made Beams think his eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because why would the Dread God’s Avatar be relieved to see the death of his own god?
Doesn’t matter either way, Beams thought with a smile. We won. We finally won. The multiverse is saved and—
Beams suddenly heard a dreadfully familiar heartbeat sound in the back of his mind. At first, he could barely hear it over the Dread Priest’s embarrassing wailing and the constant mutterings of despair coming from Graalix’s mouth, but even if the whole chamber had been filled with a loud rock band playing their instruments at their highest volume, Beams knew he would have heard that heartbeat regardless.
No, Beams thought, looking around wildly. It can’t be. I killed him. Where is that sound coming from?
“Beams?” said Mr. Space, looking at Beams with a puzzled expression. “What’s the matter? Did you hear something?”
“That heartbeat,” said Beams. He looked at Mr. Space and Bolt, unable to hide the growing fear in his eyes. “Can you hear it? It’s so close …”
Bolt frowned and looked at the Dread God. “Well, it can’t be coming from the Dread God, because you stabbed him right through the heart. No way his heart could still be beating after that, even if he is an all-powerful god who can destroy cities without even thinking about it.”
“But that’s the thing,” said Beams. “This heartbeat … I’ve heard it before. It never came from the Dread God’s heart. It always came from his brain, the Rubber Ball.”
“The Rubber Ball?” Bolt repeated in horror. He looked up at the Dread God’s face. “You didn’t stab his brain.”
Without warning, the Dread God’s eyes snapped open. His eyes were glowing a deep red now, acting like searchlights on Beams, Bolt, and Mr. Space. The hole in his chest was still bleeding profusely, but somehow the Dread God did not seem to even notice that.
“The Dread God lives!” the Dread Priest cried out gleefully all of a sudden. “Praise the Dread God, he lives! Halok!”
Still not speaking, the Dread God shrugged his shoulders and Shade’s shadow tendrils snapped around him like string. Then, moving faster than someone of his size should have been able, the Dread God snatched Bolt and Beams in both of his hands with a crushing grip. Bolt and Beams both cried out in pain, with Beams dropping the God Slayer, which fell to the floor below with a soft clatter against the stone tiles underfoot.
“Beams, Bolt, no!” Mr. Space shouted.
But the Dread God merely looked at Mr. Space and fired some kind of energy beam from his eyes at him. Mr. Space tried to move the floating chair out of the way, but the eye beams struck the bottom of the chair anyway and he went careening off to the side uncontrollably. He crashed somewhere out of Beams’ sight with a loud, sickening crunch, but Beams couldn’t turn his head to see if Mr. Space had survived the crash or not. The Dread God was squeezing him to death and it was all Beams could do just to maintain consciousness, much less survive.
“Foolish humans,” came the Dread God’s booming voice, which didn’t sound even remotely affected by Beams’ stab. “Like most humans, you have no imagination when it comes to dealing with the otherworldly. I do not need a heart to survive. So long as my brain is in one piece, I can survive for eternity, regardless of the current state of my heart. Too bad the same cannot be said for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The crushing force of the Dread God’s grip squeezed all of the air out of Bolt’s lungs. He could feel his ribs starting to crack under the pressure and realized that he was going to die if he didn’t do something fast. He brought his fists down on the Dread God’s massive hand, but without air to breathe, his blows had little impact behind them. All he could do was futilely beat his fists against the Dread God’s fingers, which seemed to make the situation worse rather than better.
He looked over at Beams. Beams seemed to be in even worse shape than him, which made sense because Beams wasn’t as strong as Bolt. He looked like he was about to pop any second now, which was how Bolt felt as well.
Bolt looked up into the face of the Dread God. The Dread God was smiling down at both of them, animalistic glee spreading over his entire face. Yet there was still hatred and anger in his eyes as well, hatred and anger which motivated him to crush Bolt and Beams to death.
“It is a shame I must kill you both because the two of you would have made excellent deities to add to my pantheon,” said the Dread God, “but both of you have proved to be far more trouble than you are worth. Even I, in all my power, will never be able to make you two serve me. Therefore, I shall crush you both and then kill your friends. And then the multiverse itself shall—”
Without warning, the Dread God cried out in pain. He let go of Bolt and Beams and his hands flew to his head. Bolt was in too much pain to even try to fly as he fell to the floor below. He reached out and grabbed Beams’ hand, but he knew it wouldn’t do them much good because once they hit the floor, their bodies would probably shatter upon impact.
That was when a giant, rubber trampoline suddenly expanded out underneath them. Bolt and Beams landed on the trampoline hard enough to bounce into the air once or twice before coming to a quick and safe stop. Though the trampoline broke their fall, Bolt was still shocked and confused, feeling the soft yet firm rubber underneath them.
“What … what happened?” said Bolt, his voice weaker than normal. Speaking hurt his ribs, so he tried not to say too much. “Where did this trampoline come from?”
“That would be me,” said a familiar yet distinct voice behind him.
Bolt craned his head back to s
ee a familiar face, connected to the trampoline with a long neck, staring down at them both with a big grin on his face. Bolt could not help but gasp.
“Rubberman?” said Bolt in surprise. “Is that really you?”
Rubberman’s smile turned into a puzzled frown. “How do you know my name? We’ve never met before.”
Bolt opened his mouth to reply, but then Beams groaned and said, “Thanks for the save, boss, but maybe try to be a little quicker next time. Think I’ve got at least three broken ribs from the Dread God’s death grip.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure our company health insurance will cover whatever medical costs you incur after this,” Rubberman replied. “Anyway, sorry for my late appearance. I thought you guys had the situation under control when you stabbed the Dread God in the chest, so I was just as surprised as you two when he revealed he was still alive. Hope you can forgive me for that.”
“Better late than never, I guess,” said Bolt. He sat up slowly and looked around at the trampoline they sat upon. “Where did this come from? It’s really comfortable.”
“It’s my body,” said Rubberman. “Being made of rubber, I can stretch my body into all sorts of different shapes and sizes. I can make a trampoline out of my body like I did now. See?”
“Oh,” said Bolt. “That’s a pretty useful power if you ask me.”
“Indeed it is,” said Rubberman with a nod.
A groan above made them look up. The Dread God was clutching his skull like he was having a really bad headache. The Avatar, the Dread Priest, and Graalix were free of their shadows, but rather than attack Bolt and the others, they had retreated a short distance, staring up at the Dread God with the same confused and worried expressions which seemed plastered to their faces.
“What did you do to our god?” the Dread Priest said, whipping his head to look over at Bolt, Beams, and Rubberman. “How are you mentally attacking him? It doesn’t make sense. None of you humans can harm the Dread God.”