Aetheral Space

Chapter 387:13.45: The Wrath of You

The world erupted into light.

The Shepherdess raised a hand to shield her eyes as waves of air pressure buffeted over her, sending her clothes billowing out. It was as if she’d suddenly stepped into the middle of a hurricane. Her smile widened.

This was very good. A Supreme should be nothing if not a living hurricane.

Besides, this was something the Shepherdess had been eager to see for herself. Ruth Blaine was notoriously stingy with this ability, mostly due to its destructive potential. The Direwolf Set was the Skeletal Set improved and elevated via combination with the Revolutionnaire Set and the pseudo-Aether burn it created. The Monarque Set, on the other hand, was the child of Revolutionnaire and Noblesse.

In appearance at least, it was quite imposing.

A giant ovoid shape, big enough to dwarf the Shepherdess, rose as a silhouette as it floated out from the raging winds. Its surface -- eggshell white -- became clear as it floated over the ground, the light that had heralded it fading away. Protruding from the front of the divine egg, like something was trying to push its way out, was the grinning countenance of a human skull.

Empty sockets observed the Shepherdess with utter odium. She grinned back at them.

The cape of the Revolutionnaire Set had not become a scarf for this transformation. Instead, it had enlarged and split itself -- becoming six scarlet wings, like those of an insect, waving in the air behind the Monarque Set, embers sparking at their tips. A butterfly of death, ready to exact vengeance.

Beautiful.

It opened fire.

The Shepherdess skipped through her retreat -- disappearing for seconds at a time as she was teleported to the end of her pre-planned path. If she hadn’t been able to do that, things might have gotten a little difficult. Blasts of light and force were erupting from every inch of the Monarque Set’s body, obliterating everything in sight -- reducing this construction site to a pile of molten slag.

She laughed, the pure sound riding subordinate on the wind. This was beyond even her expectations!

Of course, the Shepherdess had done her re

He narrowed his eyes.

"...I think that was a real zero-outta-ten move."

As he stepped forward, Roman Hitch’s body unravelled -- unravelled into string, string that quickly coiled and bound itself back together into a new shape. A shape that sent a shiver down the Shepherdess’ spine. A shape that caused her to take a rare step back.

Long flowing hair billowed in the wind, each lock a different colour, ties and beads lurking in its depths like ornaments. Black Umbrant eyes loomed like the void, white triangular pupils twinkling as they regarded her. Skin that was, at first, pale as snow -- but quickly turned tan as vibrant life poured into it. The faux-military uniform he’d been wearing exploded out into a bizarre outfit, like a woollen red scarf wrapped haphazardly around the man’s entire body, leaving great sections uncovered.

Red teeth grinned.

"Ah," sighed the dead man, cracking his fingers -- each one tipped with a gleaming golden thimble. "That’s so much better."

The Shepherdess swallowed.

Wu Ming.

He leapt from the crane, arms spread wide, strings already spreading out from his form like a spider’s web. The air twisted and played with his hair. His grin opened into a carefree laugh -- a laugh that usurped the wind and dominated all reason.

The one man in this world unbound by anything.