The Pass of the Dead, VII Telnakazu:
The boot collided with a sickening crunch that sent Suvacel careening into the ground, and with the impact, the Omega Program automatically sent her into a landing pattern designed to roll with the speed, not simply to crash into the ground with overwhelming force. Even as she began to rise to her feet, the being that hovered over her gazed down, body now once more white as snow, golden eyes all zeroed in on her.
Smiling as a reflex, her body unaware of its outward form and intent, Suvacel built up a vast reservoir of energy within herself, her body beginning to glow as an eerie and unholy light began to spread outward from within. Her body almost seemed transparent for a moment, organs flashing and an eerie spiderweb of flashing symbols marked the movement of hands outward, palms down, fingers clenched into fists, and feet anchoring into the ground. Howling with a voice that called back to times when on a distant blue cloud-encircled world great shambling figures had erected mighty cities and performed eldritch rites at the center of a vast primordial Imperium, as a vast arcing blast of light surged forth, the light forming a triangular sweeping force that collided into the Lightdancer.
Facing a power capable of at its fullest unleashing wiping out the entire galactic cluster, the Lightdancer merely folded her arms across her chest and called into her that power. Not from a desire to spare the baying mobs of mortals beneath her, but to show the baying creature beneath her that mortals, no matter how mighty, were but children toying with the weapons of their elders and of higher spheres. The blast tore into her, but her flesh did not yield. The battlefield was stilled, and the silence brought Vizornii Hezhatin out of her own haze from the Program. The glowing energy lasted for an interval that held all soldiers breathless, but when it passed and Suvacel began a roar in triumph, the roar proved abortive as the Lightdancer hovered in the air, calmly.
You have given me your best shot. Now, let me give you the smallest taste of mine.
Cupping her hands together, cape billowing in an eerie wind, the Lightdancer drew back her hands as a ball of lighting-infused crackling smoke formed, the lightning casting eerie gleams of light against her hand but no shadows. Her inhumanly wide mouth flashing, into a shark's grin of serrated teeth, the Lightdancer then hurled a beam of crackling smoke into Suvacel, who in anger had flown up to attack her foe hoping to repeat the blast but closer. The beam collided into her with an eldritch wailing that caused even hardened veteran Psi class Metanormals and the other Omega on the field to fall to their knees, clasping their hands to their ears, trembling. Landing with an impact registered on seismographs across the Imperial Throneworld, Suvacel clutched at the ground, regaining her bearings.
Before her the figure clad in dark silver armor descended, light blue cape still whipping in the unnatural winds of magic that she summoned, her impact a gentle one. Unclasping her arms, the figure began a ponderous tread forward, seemingly delaying as though expecting something. Suvacel rose up, the clarity of the Omega Program gone along with most of the flesh from her face, dripping with blood, the exposed muscles and in areas bones and in other areas nerves a picture of raw agony.
You shall not be permitted to die, alien. Not so easily. This is not about killing you, it is to show mortals your place in the order of things.
Suvacel snarled and then the same power that had surged in her before did so again. Grinning with a fell smile, her eyes began to turn an eerie green within black, and the voice of the being within Suvacel spoke in a deep and somewhat sloshing accent:
You’re making me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry. Before your race stood on two legs and gazed into the uncaring Stars, my Race was already ancient. Before the ancestor of the ancestor of this Aeon was conceived by Gods and Demons, we built mighty cities and heralded our Father, Priest-emperor in the name of the Other Gods beyond Space and Time whose soul and messenger is the Crawling Chaos, the Daemon-Sultan.
Lightdancer, you’re bothering me.Unconcerned, the Lightdancer then told her:
Of what business is it to the Hammer of Doom that appeals are made to ancient fables?
Suvacel laughed, a hideous mad cackle like boulders grinding together in mud, and then said:
Surely our debased imitators know the profound Truth behind the couplet spoken to the ancestors of the ancestors of life on a distant world, that ‘That is not dead which can Eternal lie, and with Strange Aeons, even Death shall die!’
The Lightdancer shrugged and then smiled.
That which can create a force to destroy anything, regardless of what its nature is or how ancient it is, regardless of its nature within or beyond time and space is immune to anything that exists in any sphere. You intimate you are an unstoppable force. Here gaze you onto an immovable object.
As the armies held their breath in suspense, Arsharzin Hezhatin exited a personal transport craft that brought him to the battlefield, walking calmly to his daughter. With the revelation of the power of the Omegas and the presence of two of them in an active campaign, it had been decided that the services of the domestic spymaster of the Empire were best served so long as monarchists remained on the Throneworld's surface on the battlefield.
Suvacel roared, calling to herself the same glowing energy. As her armor began to glow and her healed flesh became translucent, but now an appalling sickly green instead of the brilliant blue. Glowing once more with the eldritch power that made her semi-translucent, Suvacel roared a challenge as she hurled a fist at the Lightdancer. In response the Lightdancer simply made a fist of her own, catching Suvacel's punch with a punch of her own. The resulting shockwave disintegrated altogether troops and machines in the blast zone, and hurled everyone in the armies around like ragdolls, leaving only Vizornii Hezhatin standing, and one other in the field.
Arsharzin Hezhatin looked at the immense crater the impact of the battling godlike entities had made and then felt a familiar transformation beginning. As his eyes turned completely yellow, he cried in a voice that commanded even the attention of the Lightdancer:
Nothing can stop the Beast! The Beast is the strongest one there is!