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Lennon 'Bladeless Monster' Hull

Standing on the shoulders of giants—what ironic wordage. Looking up at Behemoth's terrible face, I hate that the words come to me. After all, a demon such as he has never helped me in any way. The most he's done for me is act as a stepping stone.

Still, I feel the familiar thrill of battle coursing through me, my heart rattling with excitement despite the fresh wounds still aching across my skin. I grin as I face our opponent—my opponent—the formidable Kaisen, a towering entity formed of ash and Ether. My fingers tighten around the hilt of my sword forged from my soul, and I brace myself for the clash to come.

Another assault from the avatar comes at me like a hurricane consolidated into one moment, its burning scythe sweeping across the giant's massive form. I twist my blade and leap off the shoulder, feeling the force of the attack reverberating up my arm with a sharp clang. Sparks fly, and I can smell the acrid stench of scorched metal as I tumble backward and catch myself upon Behemoth's shoulder again.

The demon thanks me with a low grumble while the winds continue to ascend. The hundreds of views from the Crossroads formed from our collision tempt me with distractions, but I don't let my gaze wander an inch.

Tonuyn tosses more of those chains I saw on my way here, but they don't seem to do much other than slow Kaisen. Better than nothing, I suppose.

The giant beneath me shifts, his massive fist swinging at the avatar with a bone-crushing impact despite the war that wages within his veins. The blow lands, causing Kaisen to misstep with Tonuyn's aid, and its balance is momentarily disrupted. This is my chance. I don't hesitate. I run across the giant's shoulder, and each step is a weighed risk. With a snapping leap, I propel myself off the giant, and then, in the air, I strike myself with Dia.

Intercepting the formless blade with another rewards me with momentum that I don't waste, adding more and more onto it until I can hardly see anymore with my swiftness.

The wind rushes past me as I soar, the enormous form of the God growing closer with each passing instant. The scythe arcs toward me, but I twist mid-air, my blade ready to intercept the strike. The world blurs as I close in on the towering figure, a tiny speck against its colossal presence.

Yet my tiny presence is a massive disadvantage here. I can only barely deflect Kaisen's attacks with my all. So, I search for something different, no longer using my eyes. In that fleeting moment, as the wind rushes past me and the world blurs into a smear of dark gray, I close my eyes and search for that feeling—the strand of perfect clarity that I'd found before.

I fall into the deeper senses, reaching for the sensations I felt while fighting Gorgeous and Maxemista.

I grasp for perfection with blindness as my guide.

It's like a hidden current in a chaotic sea, a thread of certainty among the confusion and noise of battle. I can hear Kaisen's retaliation against Behemoth, the splatter of blood across the landscape. I can feel Tonuyn's inscriptions cover me, protecting me against Kaisen's warring ambiance.

My mind reaches out, grasping blindly, feeling for that elusive strand, the one that will guide my blade along the perfect path. My heart pounds as I draw closer to the avatar, my instincts screaming at me to strike, to do anything to survive. But I know that rushing in without the perfect angle will be a waste. It'll end with my body smeared across the landscape.

I'm too wounded to be anything but perfect right now. My power has to be distributed in such a way that it exceeds my limits.

I reach deeper into myself, beyond the immediate fear and adrenaline, searching for that singular moment of clarity. I remember the last time I faced a God, the way everything aligned in an instant, the way my strike felt inevitable as if destiny itself had intervened. As it... destiny had arrived. But it wasn't destiny or fate that led those strikes.

It was me.

I did it. It was my hands, my soul, and my mind.

And then, there it is—faint but unmistakable—a thread of clarity that cuts through the chaos as my confidence allows it to bloom. I grasp it with everything I have, aligning my body and my blade with its path. The strand leads me toward the exact point, the perfect angle that will pierce through the avatar's defenses. My eyes snap open as the strand solidifies in my mind, and I can see the way forward clear as day.

The avatar looms before me, its scythe raised to intercept my strike by impaling me with the ashen steel. It crashes for me as my swiftness seems to be fake, and yet, I kick outwardly against the air beneath me.

It does little, as even with my force, I have no ground below to stand on. Still, I move enough that it throws off Kaisen's scythe. The ashen blade swings beneath me while another is just above, expecting me to dodge with more impetus.

A long grin holds as I land on the first weapon, riding it partially as the atmosphere around me shudders with momentum. The ash rises with me as the God doesn't quite comprehend how I evaded him, but before he can, I kick off the blade, heading straight toward the heart of the avatar of ash.

The line holds true: an invisible, formless, but clear path that is the only one I can follow.

Ash rains from above me as Behemoth cries out in agony. Blades soar from just beneath me while Tonuyn screams, retreating further away. While in the air, I shift with minor movements, a foot here or foot there, never enough to be obvious.

I simply do as I believe I must.

Dia waves beyond my body, breaching first and foremost as ash enters my eyes, lungs, and mouth. The ash transmutes like Darklight does, twisting and contorting before I feel... it.

The thing that was causing Behemoth so much pain.

War wages within my body as the ash vanishes utterly within my system. Now, my own blood, muscles, and innards are fighting against me. They are rebelling against my control.

What an awful way to kill someone. A God of War indeed.

Clamping down on my insides, forcing them to obey me momentarily, I carve my way into the avatar's body, my blade slicing through layers of ashen flesh. The pressure is immense, ash swirling around me, choking my breath and stinging my eyes. Scythe blades form from the substance around me, stabbing into my flesh just inches away from their target.

I can hardly see through the dense haze, but I hold onto that strand of perfection. My Dominion flares a million times, cutting in every direction as I practically become a sphere of twisting souls.

The deeper I go, the more suffocating it becomes, the dark ash closing in from all sides. My every step is a struggle, my formless sword pushing against the oppressive force as if I'm moving through solid lead. Yet, I can feel something within guiding me forward, leading me closer to the core.

It isn't my instincts or my gut that leads me by the nose. It is... everything. I remember what the Devil said about my perception. None of my skills could find him. Not even one of my senses could point to him. And yet... I knew he was there.

I just knew there was a threat, even if he did not see me as one.

My senses heighten as the strain of keeping my body together reaches a dangerous level, every sound and vibration magnified in the thick ash, and I press on, refusing to falter.

It feels like an eternity, my muscles burning with exertion, but I finally reach a barrier—a thin film of something dark and unnatural. I cut through it, the resistance strong, but I keep my grip steady, slicing until the barrier gives way. I crash through, landing in a space that shouldn't exist inside the avatar's body.

It's an entirely different realm, where the sky is clear and open, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness I just battled through. Beneath me is mottled dirt, the ground marred by a single grainy circle marked by what would have to be a stick by its poor nature.

As I rise to my feet, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Before me stands Kaisen, disheveled and disoriented.

He looks younger than I thought he would be. Thirty or so at most? Quite near my age physically. How odd.

"I figured you might make it this far, Lennon Hull."

The words of the pale-skinned man cause a shudder to run through my flesh. My muscles twist against each other, damaging them and tearing out tendons while my bones grind and my organs shift. War.

Gritting my teeth against the internal pain, I stride forward, entering the circle not unlike that of my training. The moment I do, everything changes once more as Kaisen and I stand amongst a sea of dead bodies, most burnt to little more than ash with a sky darker than night.

A deep, depressive feeling roars through my body as the War within wages without end. I fall to a knee, momentarily losing the thread of perfection I had, while Kaisen plants the flat end of his scythe against a woman's head, splitting it in half from the force.

"You have seen it, too, haven't you? Isn't it... perfect? So lovely. Look out. See the ash. See the embers that remain after a well-fought war. You are like me, Lennon. We love this. Stand. Let us cross blades. Only then can we learn more about each other."

My heart twitches with pain at his accusations of my person. I...

I love to fight. I will admit that. But... I do not love the aftermath. It is... not who I am. I relish the thrill, the adrenaline, the rush of growing stronger. But to see all the bodies afterward...

I am not a psychopath. Or perhaps I was, and a man changed me for the better.

An interesting question, I suppose.

"Were you always like this? This hungry for war? For mayhem?"

I propose it as I crawl back onto my feet, hardly able to stand as Kaisen replies, a brandishing grin all over his face.

"No, of course not. I used to be a farmer. So were my parents and their parents before them. I awoke to its beauty, the lingering vestiges of life after a struggle when they were all killed. Kneeling amongst the ashes of the only love you've ever had... teaches you to embrace what remains."

My eyes shut as I understand. I get it now. Kaisen was once an ordinary man, content to live a life of simple agriculture. His era was not one that allowed that, however.

As for me... I had always wanted more, desired more, and searched for the rush wherever I could find it. Without him... without Edmund, I fear what I could have become.

Kaisen was nurtured to be a monster. I was simply born as one and was trained to control the lust.

The dichotomy between the two of us cements a conclusion in my mind. I have to kill this Nahullo. There is no other option. If I do not... My father used to say something that I never really took to heart.

"There comes a day when all men know why they were born."

Seeing this monster before me, I know. I know so profoundly why Edmund found me that day within my town—why he chose me despite all the others with more talent and money.

It takes one to kill one. I have to kill the monsters in this world. Not the ones creeping in the dark or the ones that rustle in the forest. I have to slay the ones that no one else can. The ones that only another monster can.

My formless hands tighten as I genuinely feel something within my palms. Looking down, a blade rests between my battered fingers. She's there. Dia.

In the true steel.

A clap resounds as Kaisen praises me, not even striking at me despite the definite desire of his Mother to do so.

"Unbelievable. To turn a Concept into a physical thing without any Ether... We are indeed the same. What is it? May I ask?"

Words don't leave my throat as an answer as the war inside ceases with the slightest pull of my body. Dia rises once more as feeling gradually comes back within my arms. They aren't returning, but... something else is happening.

With raised elbows, I fall into the 2nd, pointing the blade toward Kaisen. The ashes around pause as if time itself falls still. Embers lose their luster, and the sky fades as all the colors in my sight vanish. There is only my target.

"Ah. I see. Perfection. How... grandiose. We Godshapers are a rare bunch. Most others use their Ether and whatnot to bridge the final gap, but I can see you are not like them. There are many ways to Godhood, after all. Naturals are born via time and being in the right place. Unnaturals to their mastery of Ether. Sonned to their parents. And finally, we Godshapers, manipulating our Concepts into reality. You are close. Very close."

I don't listen to a damned word he says. He is a mass murderer. A vile being that has been taken in by one just as putrid. I am not a good man. Not by any metric. But...

There comes a time when even a bad man has to do some good.

I dart forward, my blade swinging upon that very fine thread just as my whole body lights up with agony. I manage to hold on just long enough until our blades cross, the curved scythe meeting my sword.

Then, my vision goes black, and the very next thing I feel is the dirt on my cheek.

Shaking my head, I look around and discover Tonuyn beside me. He glances at the sword beside me, the weapon still there despite my lack of Dominion. The Pygmy doesn't reach for or speak of the blade, but I can see his apprehension toward it.

Above us, the sky trembles between Behemoth and Kaisen's gargantuan contest.

"You need to get up, swordsman. I'm working on something, but Behemoth needs help. He's... losing. Bad. Death is only a minute away for him. Do what you do best, Bladed Monster."

My old title comes back to me, and I snort at it, forcing my body onto my feet. Tonuyn must have saved me from that clash somehow. I look up at the altered atmosphere, finding the Crossroads still brimming with power due to our conflict.

At the same time, though, I witness Behemoth's situation. The grand demon, the Binary Lord, has been reduced to a mountain of bleeding flesh and bone. Ash erupts from his skin constantly, spewing more of his vitality into the air that splashes onto the landscape.

Tonuyn is right. Behemoth won't last much longer. Kaisen is a different beast.

"Can you teleport me inside that heart again?"

The Pygmy bites his lip, answering me partially.

"Yes. But it'll take a while. He might not last that long."

Staring up at the big old bastard bleeding rivers worth every second, I nod to him with respect. He chose his path. The determination is to be admired.

"That's fine. Behemoth is not without his spine."

Tonyun groans before spreading out another circle beneath him. It's intricately woven and quickly exceeds even my slight understanding.

"I'll never get the chance to make a Sirza, huh? Whatever. We just need to kill this one. Sorry, Behemoth."

Seconds quickly pass as Kaisen tears into Behemoth, his laughs echoing across the landscape. The insanity is clear. The God was lost long before the Mother Below took him. This doesn't even feel like he's being controlled by her anymore. This is... just pure madness. I see why she sent him up here first, letting him rush past the others. He cannot be trusted near her allies.

While Behemoth is slowly ripped apart, I crouch slightly, arching my back with purpose with my hands on my blade. The point of Dia sprouts right before my body as the hilt rests underneath my armpit. Perfectly straight.

In this position, I allow time to pass unabated. Crimson dyes the land, and yet, I simply delve into my blade. My focus reaches an epiphany as I realize what Kaisen meant.

This sword... it is real and yet it is not. It is wholly formed by my connection with some aspect of reality, namely Perfection. I am getting close, aren't I?

What do I have to do now to become a God? Do I need... to become the sword? No, that's stupid. Kaisen didn't do that. He...

Looking up at the avatar made of ashen scythes, I understand what he did. He joined with his weapon somehow. Or maybe... No. His weapon and he possess different Concepts. The scythe is Ash. The man is War. Something isn't right here.

A great tremor resounds throughout the world as Behemoth falls to the ground, finally unable to stand any longer. The moment he does, I turn and glance at Tonuyn. The Pygmy grimaces with effort.

"Wait until Kaisen goes to finish him off."

"But—!"

"We will not have any other chance. I will only have one shot at this."

I do not allow for any argument as Tonuyn quickly understands this is the only possible option for victory. He is a supporting figure, unable to deliver the needed blows like I am.

Behemoth... he is just not mobile enough, unfortunately.

Another second passes before that the scythe that could run along an entire city falls for Behemoth's heart.

And the instant it does, my surroundings shift, the inscriptions below lighting up.

Without wasting a singular moment, I stab, piercing forward with all that I have inside me. Flesh tears and muscles scream as they battle against each other, but I manage to align them for even greater effect.

In the end, Dia enters the back of Kaisen's neck, exiting out near his mouth. A gurgle sings my praise before I rip it out to the side, ashen ichor filling this odd internal of Kaisen's avatar.

The God coughs and sputters with half a head missing. He falls to the ground as I realize the Darklight isn't healing him. Right. His seems to work differently. Or maybe... he doesn't have any at all... No. That's impossible. I shake my head and spit out some blood from my ruined insides. Stepping forward, I raise my blade to end him, only to lose feeling in my arms and drop my sword to the floor.

"Haha! It seems we both have come up short!"

A laugh comes from the hole in Kaisen's throat while I push with my everything, yet I am absolutely unable to move an inch. War itself explains my plight while crawling to the edge of the ashen interior.

"Godshapes require every bit of your essence to manipulate. They are exorbitantly draining for a Demigod such as you. No surprise you can't move an inch. I could hardly use mine until she helped me rise. Well... Mother is calling. Said I failed her. Whatever. See you soon. I can't wait for our rematch. Can't let that little bastard get me while I'm down from your perfect strike, y'know? This will take a bit to heal from, even for me."

I reach for him with my everything, but my hand won't even spread open. I'm utterly paralyzed as a short man appears beside me, waving the cane he uses to etch his inscriptions with. But before Tonuyn can use any of his many skills, Kaisen retreats, bowing to both of us as the ash carries him away and the Nahullo leaks his essence all over.

"Thank you for the lovely battle! I will return shortly! Don't let me down!"