Sol Boxset

by Samuel Small

  She glanced briefly at Dante and her father as they ran deeper into Magnum Undo, Dante firing a few bursts of energy that kept their pursuers hesitant. Just when she thought they’d have to stop and fight, Heath grabbed Dante by the waist and created a path of ice that he slid them across. They were fast, so fast that the last of the pursuing soldiers gave up. In the weeks before this battle her father had given up drinking and gone cold turkey, and it was now showing in his expert movements.

  When Sara turned back to Whip, his head shifted from her father to her. “They won’t be able to defeat Aquinas, not even with the two of them. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but he seems to radiate with power.”

  Sara didn’t respond to him, partially because somewhere deep down she felt he wasn’t lying. She shut out the nagging voice of doubt, she just needed to have faith in Dante and her father and do what she needed to do here. They’d stop the king and whatever he was planning inside that castle then return and flank from behind. Sandwiched between two elite forces, they’d have no choice but to surrender.

  With newfound confidence, Sara gathered Sol into her palms as Whip did the same.

  ***

  Dante concentrated most of his effort on maintaining his balance since the forward movement was handled for him. His feet slid along the two feet wide line of ice that King Niflheim pumped steadily onto the ground so that they could continue their exhilarating momentum. Bits of ice sprayed out to either side of them, the Sol creating a grating sound that was like a river of rolling stones.

  This guy’s power is insane, Dante thought as he stared at King Niflheim’s back. A large chunk of flesh had been taken out of it. He was able to hold his own in the fight back there, even better than Sara, and now he powered them through an entire city. Dante looked up at the towering edifice of Aquinas’ castle, otherworldly in the pink light provided by the luminous vortex in the sky. That bastard from the meeting no doubt sat inside. Dante knew the guy was an asshole based on his arrogance at that assembly, but there was more to it that made him hate the guy. Just a feeling he had as soon as he walked into the room, a sense of immediate danger as well as something else bubbling just under the surface. A slight hesitation. Fear, maybe.

  Dante shook his head as the wind batted his hair. That was stupid, nothing more than jitters he had felt attending the meeting. After all, talking wasn’t really his strong suit. He much preferred to solve problems with his fists, which evidently was what he was going to do now.

  They reached the stone steps leading up to Aquinas’ castle and Dante and King Niflheim leapt off of the ice wave, jogging along the road until they slowed to a halt. The stairs, which only a few weeks ago seemed ordinary, appeared to stretch up well into the sky. Dante knew this was nothing but a trick of the freaky light, but it still bothered him more than he’d like to admit. King Niflheim’s heavy boot came down with an audible clack that broke him from his trepidation, and he strode up those steps with his eyes locked on the door. Not wanting to be left behind, Dante picked up his pace and went up the steps at his side.

  When they made it to the top King Niflheim extended his arm out, but Dante placed a hand on his wrist and lowered it. He smiled at the king while cracking his knuckles. The guy had just shown an excellent display of his Sol prowess, and Dante didn’t want to be upstaged. He fired a blast of energy into the door, leaving nothing but a pile of smoldering planks.

  The two stepped into the entryway and looked to either side, but there weren’t any guards anywhere. The guy must have focused all his men on a pure offense campaign, figuring that nobody would slip behind their lines. It was good, as they might be able to get him by surprise. The guy might’ve not even heard the explosion as there was a constant swirling sound in the distance, muffled by the stone walls of the castle. Dante exchanged a look with King Niflheim. The two headed up the stairs inside the castle and entered the meeting room they’d been in a few weeks before.

  It was empty now, the table they’d sat in leaning against the wall, but that swirling sound had grown more intense. It was coming from straight ahead. Dante could see the pink light growing brighter then dimmer, flowing out of the cracks in the door in front of him.

  “That’s Aquinas’ throne room,” King Niflheim whispered, raising his voice an octave so he could be heard over the grinding sound. “Be prepared when you enter.”

  Dante gripped the handle, but he didn’t feel like he’d be attacked once he opened the door. He got no sudden jolt along his spine that told him to feint or parry, and there was no voice in the back of his head saying this was a bad idea. But that didn’t mean the action was devoid of sense. He got more than a feeling, he got a certainty of what would happen as soon as he entered. He wouldn’t be killed on sight, he would be suffocated. Some kind of otherworldly pressure would tighten around every inch of his body and choke the life out of him. He wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did. Dante shared an apprehensive glance with King Niflheim and noticed faintly that the guy’s posture was slumped slightly, like he was struggling to stay upright. Maybe he’s just exhausted, Dante thought as he turned the handle.

  As soon as he stepped into the room King Niflheim fell at Dante’s side, but he couldn’t worry about that now. On the opposite side of the room was a jagged throne, wherein Aquinas sat with his hand raised into the air. Bright pink energy pumped out of that hand and through a hole in the ceiling, culminating in that swirling vortex he knew was amassing in the sky. His chin rested on his palm as he stared at Dante through pupils the boy could have sworn were red.

  This bastard was supposed to be a water user, not whatever the hell this was pumping out of his hand. Aquinas, who Dante had begun to suspect was not actually Aquinas, rose from his throne, keeping the hand fixed in the air and pumping steady energy. He took his first step forward and stone rained down from the ceiling as his energy destroyed it. Each clumping step that thing took toward Dante brought more debris down around them. He didn’t cease pumping out that pink light in a steady line until he stopped a few feet in front of Dante. Then the energy suddenly stopped and he placed both arms behind his back, but there was still a emission of pink light racing out across his shoulders.

  “What the fuck is this?” Dante said.

  “I’m the one who should be asking you that,” Aquinas replied, only it wasn’t the voice Dante heard in the meeting, even though he recognized it well. His lips trembled as he attempted to put it into words.

  “T-the demon,” Dante whispered.

  “That’s right,” the demon said and smiled widely, revealing his teeth to be sharp and jagged. A few flashes of electricity raced up his body and his hair stood on end. The resemblance was faint, but between those sharp teeth and spiky hair Dante could tell this was the same entity from the abandoned town.

  “What the fuck are demons doing here?” Dante asked no one in particular.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know!” the demonic king replied, then thrust his arm out. That pink energy shot out of his hand in a ball that Dante recognized well, and the boy pivoted to one side to avoid it. Pure Sol, Dante thought as he glared at the smug features of the demon. He hadn’t bothered to take a fighting stance, he stood calm with the hand still outstretched. He flicked his wrist, the nails on his fingers so long they resembled claws. Dante didn’t know what the hell that was about until he found his body jerked forward, heat searing into his back. The force was powerful enough to plow the boy to his knees, and he skidded across the uneven stone floor.

  There wasn’t time to wonder what the hell happened, though. When Dante glanced up the demon’s hand was pointed at him once again. He used all of his power to spin out of the way of the blast, which left a smoking hole in the floor, and landed on his feet. Before Dante could even raise his fists to defend himself the demon was on him like he’d teleported. His fist found its way into Dante’s cheek, snapping his head back. Dante stumbled toward the entrance, trying to keep his fists raised and his body on guard, but wind r
uffled his hair and he didn’t see the demon at all. Just the jagged throne at the other end of the room and the vortex through the hole in the ceiling. Dante looked around. The demon was on his right, propped up against the wall with his arms folded.

  “Bastard!” Dante shouted and unleashed energy at him, but he dodged out of the way almost instantly. Dante managed to track the blur that was the demon’s body as it made its way to the wall, leapt off of it, and headed for him. He ducked under the attack, not because he reacted to it, but because he predicted it. The demonic king appeared behind him, his stature low, and his claw-like hands held at his sides.

  Dante felt like a bull rammed into him. He flew out of the throne room, only just managing to grasp the banisters of the staircase in the foyer to slow his pace. His hand burned as it skidded along, but Dante blasted his energy backward to slow his momentum. He managed to hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs without popping his knees. The demon now stood at the top of the flight. He was no longer playful, his red eyes glaring down at Dante. As he got back onto his feet he became aware of a throbbing pain at the base of his spine, where the demon had undoubtedly hit him. Good thing his adrenaline was pumping so hard the pain didn’t impair him. He had to figure how—

  The king’s hand shot forward and energy tore out of it. Dante leapt out of the way, bits of the flooring exploding into his legs. Before he could face his adversary he was upon him and let out two fast fists that by some miracle Dante managed to block, but not the knee that followed. His body flew into the air at such speed that he thought he’d hit the ceiling, before something wrapped around his ankle and tore him back down to the floor.

  Something cool pressed against Dante’s cheek, but it was nothing compared to the fire that raced through every other part of his body. There was a dull ringing in his ears mixed in with someone talking, and his mind was there just enough for him to realize it was the demon. Dammit, he thought as he placed his arms on the floor and attempted to push himself up, I don’t even remember hitting the ground.

  The dull whine that echoed in Dante’s ears faded just in time for him to catch the tail end of the demon’s speech. He once again stood at the top of those steps, his arms outstretched and his cape swaying with his movements. Something about pitiful humans. When he locked eyes with Dante, and seemed to realize that the boy was insensible for most of his tirade, the demon’s face fell flat. There was deep hatred in his eyes that bore into Dante as he stumbled to a stand, clutching his right arm that at some point had become numb.

  “Do you know what happens when humans attempt to grasp a power that’s far beyond them?” the demon said as he unstrapped his cape. It floated to the steps and was stomped under his boot.

  “They won’t accomplish anything, just lead to the ruin of this world.”

  The demon continued to descend the steps, slowly and deliberately. To Dante it was much too quick. He needed every second to regain himself. The image of the demonic king as he moved down those steps focused and unfocused in steady pulses.

  “…what you humans don’t realize is that you aren’t the only one of His creatures. What of the animals, the trees, the very earth beneath your feet? Why should they all have to suffer for the foolishness of you humans?”

  The demon’s foot hit the bottom of the stairs and Dante could swear that it shook the entire building. His lifeless eyes gazed into Dante, now inches from his. He knew he had to do something, throw a punch, let out a burst of energy, but he seemed lost in that emptiness. It radiated loss and sorrow, and as much as Dante hated to admit it he knew what that felt like.

  “For the sake of this world that He left us, I’ll eliminate all humans starting with you!”

  Then Dante was flying once again, the demon’s hand clutching at his throat. The arm that wasn’t squeezing the life out of him was pumping energy that flew them out of the window and over the steel bridge that led to the castle. The building and then the town began to shrink in size due to the sheer speed they traveled at. Propelled by the demon’s pumping energy, they traveled further and higher, so high that Dante thought they were almost on the same plane as that swirling pink vortex in the sky. The homes and landmarks beneath him all seemed to blur together into a mess of white, green, and gray before the darkness creeping at the edge of his vision threatened to overtake him.

  Not yet, Dante thought dimly and placed his hands on the demon’s forearm. He mustered up every last bit of strength in his body and managed to pry the creature’s arm off of him enough to stop from choking. Two hands on one and that was all he could manage. The darkness that had almost taken him receded as he breathed in and out, and before long he could see the demon’s twisted grimace. He cut the power that he pumped out, leaving the two freefalling onward through the sky with the demon’s white hair buffeted by the wind. Dante glanced casually down, able to see innumerable figures on either side of the wide canyon. It was Sara and her forces, no more than dots from this high up. He could almost appreciate the view, but then his captor moved once again. He raised his hand high to the sky, pumping the energy even harder than before.

  As Dante’s body spiraled toward the ground, he removed his hands from the demon’s forearm and pointed them toward the earth.

  Chapter 17

  As soon as Dante and King Niflheim’s figures faded into the buildings of Magnum Undo, Jake brought his attention back to Whip. His hungry eyes focused on Sara like a starving animal. Ice, Pure Sol, and whips of water flew past the three as they stood in the center of the battlefield. The screams of pain mixed with the howling wind. On the planes above the canyon the wind was loud, so loud that it sounded like creatures growling. Had Jake been standing casually he would have raised an arm to shield himself from the biting cold, but he was prepared for battle now. He watched the water swirl and bubble in Whip’s hand and Jake gripped his sword tighter. At the first sign of movement he would attack.

  Whip cast his arm out to the side like he was throwing a discus. A razor-sharp body of water emerged from the pool in his hand, aimed at Jake instead of Sara. The trainee cut through it with his sword, bits of water splashing on either side, then continued forward. Whip produced his namesake from the water then lashed it at Jake. But he’d had plenty of experience dodging the weapon during the Void incident, so Jake leapt out of the way while continuing forward. However, this guy wasn’t a Void. There was no lethargic lapse when the weapon hit the ground, nor a dull hiss as it reeled back into place. He immediately raised the whip again and cracked it at Jake, who stopped and sliced through it once again. As the droplets danced in the air in front of him, Jake came to the realization that this water whip wasn’t as strong as the real thing. Yes, it would hurt if it hit him, he’d seen the painful lacerations on the bodies of Niflheim’s forces, but the water that made it up was ill-defined. One slash from Jake’s sword and it would be disrupted, its danger nullified.

  The whip reeled toward Jake once again but he wasn’t afraid at all, and in no time he would be before the advisor with his blade raised. Something felt off when Jake swung his sword into the liquid weapon though. It was Whip’s face, poised and calm. It held no suggestion of a man whose opponent was steadily gaining on him. The water particles that flashed through the air suddenly expanded and reconnected. The whip in the advisor’s hand moved of its own volition and tore at Jake. His eyes widened as he realized there was little he could do to evade the attack that powered toward him. Suddenly, a wall of ice sprung up in front of him, halting the whip’s path. The water plowed into it with a smack then returned to a twisting snake in Whip’s hand.

  This guy was good, and they’d need to work together to defeat him. As he stared at Whip, the canyon no more than 10 feet behind him, Jake came up with a plan. If they could press forward and keep him distracted enough that he didn’t realize how close he was to the edge…

  The trainee ran forward with his blade in hand, slipping inside of the whip as it was cast out. It slashed at him from the side, but another
of Sara’s ice walls sprouted up to protect him. Jake used it to his advantage and kicked off the barrier, making a straight line for Whip whose eyes widened when the boy closed the distance between them so fast. But his composure soon returned, and he grimaced while pointing his Sol weapon at Jake. Before Whip could lash it out something tore into his arm, spurting out blood. He hissed then glared in the direction of the attack, but Jake already knew who it was – it was obvious based on the shards of ice sticking out of his forearm like glass.

  Whip was hampered by his injury and wasn’t able to effectively dodge Jake’s next attack completely. He leapt back, closer to the edge of the canyon, and Jake’s blade made a passing tear through his coat. Whip used his uninjured arm to summon more water but wasn’t fast enough, as Jake managed to cut into the mass of liquid before it was fully conjured. The advisor had to step back and pull his arm away to avoid losing it. Jake took the opportunity to thrust his boot dead into the advisor’s chest, which sent him spiraling back with his arms windmilling. He lashed out with his whip as he teetered on the edge. Jake tried to dodge, but it shifted at the last second and smashed into his face.

  It didn’t tear into him with pain as a conventional whip would, it opened up and swallowed him. Jake’s hair swam and swayed, and he couldn’t breathe at all with the water that enveloped his head. He clawed desperately at his neck on instinct, thinking the thing would work similarly to a chokehold. His fingers slipped right through it, spraying out a few droplets but nothing else.