*
A few minutes later, Kingston had explained the plan, and he and Maloch were getting ready to execute it. Kingston was standing on one side of the river, solar staff in hand, while Maloch stood on the opposite bank, his sonic cannon already humming with anticipation. Alza and Barsch had already retreated to a safe distance, though both were ready to move at a moment’s notice.
“I see that madness has taken you, little humans. I am not surprised at this... however, to see a fellow machine participating in this absurdity is most unexpected. No matter what you try, you will fail. I have already calculated the odds of all four of you escaping this room... to put it bluntly, there is a one in a billion chance that you will succeed. Now that you know it's impossible, won't you just give up and quietly succumb to the gas?”
“One in a billion? Somehow I really miss when it was just one in four…”
In their haste to try Barsch's plan, they had completely forgotten about the neuro-toxin spreading slowly throughout the room, pervading their bodies with its paralysing miasma. Already, Barsch's body felt heavier than before, and he had to fight to stay focused on Kingston and Maloch. The invisible fumes called to him, their siren song slowly winning him over, drawing him into the world of dreams. Even Alza, the staunchest among them, looked worn out, with heavy, deep breaths that seemed forced and unnatural.
“Kingston... hurry...” he said, between breaths.
Kingston looked up from his preparations, immediately noticing Barsch and Alza's plight. Hurrying, he quickly finished his calibrations, and took his stance, his solar staff held like a fishing spear, with the ‘prong’ pointing towards the glass-covered water. Maloch immediately mimicked his action, lowering his sonic cannon to the floor until the rim was resting against the crystal-infused barrier.
The low hum became a high pitched whine, as more and more pressure built up in his transformed arm. With a final nod towards the teenagers, Kingston gave Maloch the signal to fire. At first, there was no change in the situation, and for all intents and purposes, the plan seemed to be a complete failure. However, after ten seconds, the first crack appeared in the -until then- impenetrable cover. Another ten seconds passed, and the first crack was joined by three more of its brethren.
“Something is wrong.” It was Alza who uttered those forbidden words, which brought a groan from Barsch before he asked her what she had meant.
“If it was going to break, it should have happened by now. The crystals are still rearranging the glass molecules, the only difference is that it's taking longer than before. If this carries on, the glass will finish reforming and we will be incapacitated.”
Although Alza's voice had been crystal clear above the sonic roar, Barsch had to shout to be heard. “What can we do! How do we stop it from reforming?”
Alza cringed at the teenager shouting at her, his voice drilling into her brain with what seemed like a hooked drill-bit. Instead of asking him to lower his voice, she merely closed her eyes for a second and called forth her power. It came slower than before, a shaft of light travelling through ice as opposed to the raging inferno that she was used to.
“The gas has already compromised me to this extent. If we wait any longer, our bodies will falter as well.” Nevertheless, the power still came, drawn to a sense of will far greater than itself. Siphoning off a tiny amount, Alza spun it out into reality, her mental image guiding it's change. When she opened her eyes, a shimmering dome of light had formed around them. Outside, the noise was nearly unbearable, but it was silent in the dome. For a heartbeat, Alza allowed herself to drink in the peace and the quiet, before she returned to the task at hand.
“The problem is simple. The solution is a little more complicated. The basic premise behind this plan was correct, however, the hermit and the re-mech have underestimated the adaptability of the glass. In order for its adaptive ability to be overwhelmed, a third frequency must be introduced, and it must be a frequency that is on the opposite spectrum of what has already been introduced. If the old man and the re-mech had used opposing frequencies in the first place, the glass would have cracked by now.”
“But, where are we going to find a third frequency? And even if we do find one, there's no guarantee that it will have the right vibrations. Wait... vibrations... vibrations!”
With a triumphant grin, Barsch reached over his shoulder, his hand already opening to grasp the object that lay there. The object that he had used again and again to bring suffering and violence into the world. The object that he hated, because it brought out a side of him that he had thought was long gone. The object that had appeared in his dreams, and which had made him feel truly alive, so alive that it hurt. The image of the roaring beast flashed across his mind, as it's shaped morphed: from beast to blade and back again. Barsch knew in his heart, that every time he drew the blade, the beast grew stronger.
“I don't have a choice! I'm just going to use it to create a few vibrations, and then I’ll turn it off immediately. I won't let it control me... I won't...”
His mind made up, Barsch clenched his fingers around the smooth hilt, and, in one smooth action, drew Lanista. It's lightness still amazed him, even now. When he held the blade in hand, his body always felt lighter, freer, than ever before. But he knew, the lightness was an illusion. In reality, the blade was an anchor, which, if left unchecked, would eventually drag his heart down into darkness.
Stepping through the wall of the barrier, Barsch quietly said, “Lanista, become my carnage...” He had not meant to speak, but the beast had taken hold of his voice. It wanted to be heard. So let them hear it, he thought, walking forward.
In three short strides, he was beside Kingston, who looked at him with a mixture of fear and surprise. The old hermit was breathing heavily, and sweat had soaked his brow. His face wore a look of intense concentration, but his knees were already beginning to buckle from the effort of keeping him upright.
The solar staff in his hands was a blur of light and heat, as it's vibrations briefly took it outside the visible spectrum. Across from the former recluse, Maloch was faring little better. Despite having recently received repairs, or perhaps because of it, his hull was showing signs of buckling. He too looked at Barsch in surprise, but he caught on faster than Kingston, and merely gave a nod to signal his acceptance of the change in the plan.
Another stride brought Barsch over the river, it's fury mere inches away, trapped beneath a barrier of glass that he was now attempting to break. Forcing himself to stop thinking about what he was about to do, he shakily brought his hand to Lanista's ripcord. His semi-paralysed caught hold of the length of cord on the third try, and he was able to start the engine on the fifth.
It spluttered at first, as it's unused battery core lurched into action, sending a near-endless stream of energy into the gear mechanism. Freed from their bondage, the shark-tooth hooks began their slow circuit around the midnight-black blade, each revolution louder and faster than the last. In seconds, the blade was alive once more, it's blood-lusting roar competing with Maloch's sonic cannon for auditory dominance. Not for the first time, Barsch wondered why his hands did not simply shake apart, as he grimly tightened his grip on the screaming sword.
“Still? Still you struggle against the inevitable? I must apologise, human male, I have underestimated you. Perhaps, there is-”
“Shut, up!” With those words of defiance, Barsch hefted Lanista into the air, swung it around in a full revolution, before slamming it's roaring blade into the vibrating glass.
For a single instant, everything froze. The sound vanished. Colour drained from the world. Leaving Barsch frozen in a dead, colourless world. It was a mere instant, a hiccup in time, but it was just long enough for the beast to appear. It wore a look that could only be described as self-satisfied.
With a victorious chortle, it growled, “Yes, embrace it... embrace your true nature... become the beast, Barsch La Tergan... become the blade, Son of None... become the bloodshed, child of DEATH
!”
And then the moment was over, and everything, colour; sound; light; came flooding back in a rush, as if it was making up for lost time. From where the blade had connected, a long crack had been made, which began to race towards it's friends. Where it met them, it splintered and broke, until the glass covering was a field of breaks and scars, held together by shock and surprise.
And then the shock vanished, taking the entirety of the glass case with it. In slow motion, the solid ground beneath Barsch became liquid, giving him just enough time to utter a wordless cry of fright. As he fell -time still lagging several seconds behind- Barsch wondered if he had done the right thing, or if this had just been a trick of the beast.
And then his body became intimate with a hundred gallons of ice-cold water, and all thoughts of trickery were driven from his mind. Shock kept him awake, but it was fighting both fatigue and the paralytic gas, which had by now thoroughly infected every inch of his lanky body. He was briefly aware of colliding with something solid, before all breath was forced from his lungs.
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