Dark Divinity

'what's up with everyone trying to kill me today!', Omen pondered furiously as he tried to distract himself from the pain.

Tame, engaged in a fierce struggle with Malek, still tried to see Omen, or maybe he just wanted to confirm that Isaac did the job well. He parried Malek's relentless attacks as metal clashed against red stonelike skin, the room filled with the sounds of their violent confrontation.

Omen struggled to move, every breath sending waves of agony through his broken ribs. He could barely make out the shapes of Tame and Malek locked in combat, their forms a blur of motion. Isaac stood nearby; his eyes still fixed on Omen.

Omen could feel his back mending itself, but the self-healing process was agonizingly slow. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of his fragile state. His vision cleared enough to see Isaac moving through the broken doorway, but something was off. Isaac was not walking —he was floating. From his knees to his toes, his legs were pale and transparent, like an incomplete drawing.

So that is how he's able to avoid my exogene detection? He is a phantom! The realization struck Omen with a chilling certainty. Phantoms were a rare and dangerous species of humanoids, capable of using ghost-like abilities ranging from transparency to possession. This was not an enemy he could face!

Isaac's eyes were fixed on Omen, his expression unreadable. The room felt colder, the air thick with an unnatural presence. Omen's thoughts accelerated, trying to come up with of a way to escape or delay the impending confrontation. His body groaned in protest as he sought to move, but he could not afford to stay still. Not with an apparition closing in.

Isaac glided closer; his translucent form eerily silent. "You should have listened to her proposal, Omen, you should have joined us," he said, his voice echoing with a hollow resonance. "Now, you'll face the consequences, I can't let you live..."

"-My thoughts exactly," an emotionlessly familiar voice interrupted behind them both. Omen turned his head slightly, and his heart fluttered, was this love? He mused at the thought as he smiled at his rescuer. It was Kiba. His eyes were glowing red, and Omen knew this was not the scrawny pre-teen but the red wolf talking.

Isaac, however, who knew nothing about Kiba, smiled in sadness. "I apologize for waking you up kid… hmm… you never did tell us your name, as you know I'm—"

Before Isaac could finish his sentence, Kiba's fist connected with his face with brutal force. The punch landed squarely on Isaac's handsome features, cutting off his words instantly. Isaac's head snapped back from the impact, his ethereal form flickering as he stumbled.

'I thought physical attacks didn't work on phantoms', Omen thought before seeing the softly glowing crimson skin of Kiba's body. 'Hmmm'

The phantom's momentary loss of control gave Omen a brief respite. He took the opportunity to push himself up, his body protesting with every movement. Kiba stood over Isaac, his eyes burning with an intense, otherworldly light.

"Omen, are you alright?" Kiba's voice, though devoid of emotion, held a note of concern.

Omen nodded weakly, managing to get to his feet. "I'll live," he said through gritted teeth, though the pain was still excruciating. "Thanks to you."

Kiba simply nodded and walked towards Isaac, coldly standing over him. "I am Kiba…" he declared, his voice steady and unyielding. Isaac paused as he stood up slowly, emotionlessly fixing his head back at the right angle. He turned fully transparent and tried to phase through Kiba

—but the small, timid-looking boy simply stretched his hands, which were suddenly engulfed in flames. With a swift motion, Kiba slammed Isaac back to the ground so violently that the phasing ability was momentarily disrupted. Isaac found himself half-submerged into the metal floor, his upper body staring up helplessly at Kiba.

"…But you may call me the red wolf," Kiba said, his voice eerily calm. He raised his flaming hands high above his head, the fire casting flickering shadows across the room. With a powerful, decisive motion, Kiba brought his hands down on Isaac's upper body.

The impact was immediate and catastrophic. Isaac's form exploded under the fiery assault, a gruesome mixture of eyes, brain tissue, nasal tissue, blood, and mangled flesh blasting outward and sprawling across the hallway. The metallic walls and floor were painted with the remnants of Isaac, the stench of burnt flesh and thick blood in the air.

The violent tremor reverberated through the bunker, its deafening roar loud enough to wake the entire Male wing. Groggy figures emerged from their rooms, peering into the chaos with wide eyes, their faces etched with confusion and fear. Omen, amidst the pandemonium, ignored them, his focus fixed on the one figure stepping out of the commotion: Clay.

For the first time, Omen saw one of Jacobi's men in person alone. Clay emerged from one of the rooms, alone and looking bewildered. Omen's gaze locked onto him with a fierce intensity. "He's mine, Kiba," he said instantly, his voice cutting through the noise.

Before Clay could fully orient himself, Omen activated [Instant Dash]. The corridor blurred into a streak of distorted colours as he propelled himself forward with a speed so intense that only a few of the most perceptive eyes could follow. Clay's eyes widened in surprise as Omen's form materialized before him in a heartbeat.

Omen's hands shot out and grabbed Clay by the neck, his grip ironclad. With a surge of exogene, he infused his [Instant Dash] with an explosive burst of speed. The sheer force of the acceleration was overwhelming, not only for Clay but for Omen himself. The exogenous-powered dash transformed into a maelstrom of motion, twisting the very fabric of space around them.

In a blink, they were outside the bunker, the chaos of the interior fading into the distance. Clay's body was a crumpled mess, his form battered and mangled from the brutal journey. Omen stood over Clay, his breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. The raw power of the [Instant Dash] had left him momentarily disoriented, but the sight of Clay's shattered form brought a grim satisfaction. The once-confident figure lay sprawled on the ground, a broken, defeated shell.

Clay's eyes fluttered, his breath coming in shallow, labored gasps. The rapid, violent movement had transformed him into a human shield, his body absorbing the brunt of the insane speed as it smashed through metal walls. He tried to speak, but only a rasping whisper escaped his lips.

As Omen stood over Clay, he refused to give the man even a moment's respite. Without hesitation, he used [Healing]. It was not enough to heal Clay's severe injuries, but it did allow him more time to breathe. He wanted Clay to feel what he was going to do, but he also did not want him to use his ability to immobilize someone, so he had to move quickly.

[Lazer eyes]

Lazer's eyes, their crimson glow flaring with lethal intent. The searing beams of energy shot forth, slicing through the air with a razor-sharp precision. Clay's legs were severed in an instant, the beams cutting through flesh and bone with a chilling efficiency.

Clay's agonising scream rang out through the night, a raw and visceral sound that broke the silence. He sank to the ground in despair, moaning in anguish as he attempted to move, but his legs were no longer there. The pain engulfed him, and his mind struggled to cope with the unexpected and horrible anguish.

Omen advanced slowly, his eyes glowing a deep, unsettling red. He was a vision of cold malice, his gaze fixed on the broken form of Clay. The scrawny man's pain-filled eyes darted up to meet Omen's, his expression a twisted mix of hatred and fear.

"You bastard!" Clay screamed, his voice strained and desperate. He attempted to activate his immobilization skill, but his focus was already fractured by the intense agony. With trembling eyes, he tried to lock onto Omen's gaze, hoping to use his skill to paralyze his enemy.

But what Clay saw was not the victory he had hoped for. Instead of the anticipated calm or composure, he was met with a wall of fire. Omen's eyes blazed with an intense, otherworldly flame, a fiery aura that seemed to consume everything in its path.

Without a moment's hesitation, Omen focused on Clay's eyes, his night vision eyes narrowing with lethal intent. A beam of intense thermal force shot from his gaze, a concentrated stream of energy that struck the scrawny man's eyeballs and then into the skull with brutal precision. The thermal force was so powerful that it immediately began to boil through Clay's brain, the heat causing a horrifying distortion of flesh and bone.

The beam exited through the back of Clay's skull, the force so extreme that it splintered the remnants of his cranium. The power of the thermal beam caused Clay's head to explode in a violent eruption. Blood and fragments of brain matter sprayed outward, painting the pristine snow a vivid, horrific red.

Omen stood over the mangled corpse, his expression a mask of cold resolve. His eyes, still burning from their fiery intensity, went to the sky. The two moons, orbiting the other in a still celestial dance, tossed an eerie glow over the area. Their delicate illumination stood out starkly against the blood-soaked snow below.

In a voice that was both solemn and calm, Omen spoke into the night air. "This is for you, Isolde," he said, his tone reflecting a mixture of vengeance and sorrow. Then his expression suddenly darkened, "One down, two to go."

As Omen re-entered the bunker, he was met with a scene of utter mayhem. The interior, once a place of controlled chaos, was now a battleground of violence and disorder. The usual din of the mess hall during breakfast was nothing compared to the brutality unfolding before him. Men were fighting each other with a savagery that suggested the purge had begun prematurely. The scene was one of savage frenzy—bodies clashing, screams echoing, and blood staining the floors and walls.

Omen's eyes swept over the chaos, his expression one of grim realization. The disarray was so intense that it made him question if the purge had already started. But it was still early morning, and they had one last free day before the scheduled purge was to commence.

Realizing that plunging into this chaos would serve no purpose, Omen made a deliberate choice. He turned on his heel, avoiding the brutal melee and stepping out back into the chilly morning air.

He walked a few meters away from the bunker to a withered tree standing solitary and desolate in the snowy landscape. The tree, its branches gnarled and bare, provided a stark and lonely sanctuary amidst the frigid expanse. Omen seated himself beneath the tree, his back resting against its rough bark. He felt calm and had the sudden urge to close his eyes…and so he did.

[Emotion: Vindictiveness]

[Emotions stolen until tranquillity: 2/100].