Post by Wyntre Cold on Sept 6, 2015 6:02:59 GMT
((Warning: some parts are not for the light-hearted))
There was a distinct quality of the area of hell. It didn't seem, really, in any way bad. At the worst, the most dangerous feeling purveyed was a sense of mischievousness. Or, perhaps, the whole area was tricking her, lulling her into a false sense of safety.
She had three tasks to achieve, three tasks seemingly required to learn the techniques of the Prince. First of which was attaining a Dogi, which the Arcosian decided she would do last by buying it from Beelzebub, something she only assumed she could do from when the Prince said she was to buy it from 'yours truly'. Secondly was destroying the 'Demon Froghead', which she could not do without a physical body. Lastly was, you guessed it, attaining a physical body. Wyntre, being new to this harsh land, had no idea of how to do this. Was there some 'physical body' shop around here somewhere? Was it a sort of black market trade thing? Why didn't Beelzebub supply one? Would it be as strong as the one she had when alive? What is the capital of Assyria? Is a stick that is infinite in one direction as large as a stick that goes forever in both? Why did the chicken cross the road? So many questions for an oddly appropriate amount of time.
The Ex-Empress looked around her to see the forest you might expect from a fairy tale as she tried to ignore the clumsily shy bear, trying not to be seen. It seemed harmless enough, quite peaceful too. She decided against disturbing it any further, lest something beautiful be destroyed. Looking up, she noticed the multiple layers of canopy with all manner of fae-folk and tree spirits about. She was not a fan of such a thing, however, but she held enough respect for the peacefulness of the area to not interfere with it. Besides, as she had nearly forgotten, she had no body to cause physical change. If she did, however, she'd be sure to smile. I'm sure Zexama would love this.
However, there was darkness in the light. A grizzling snout could be barely seen through a thick layer of light-green foliage, accompanied by a very faint growling. As the Arcosian Heroine turned to see what that noise was, something new emerged behind her. Then something else. And then something else. Three reptilian lithic heads poked out of thick foliage, revealing what seemed to be three pterodactyl-like creatures made of a near-molten black rock, but was, rather, a single three-headed pterodactyl-like creature made of a near-molten black rock.
With two simultaneous jumps, our protagonist was surrounded on both sides by two creatures, one appearing to be a canine golem comprising of many varieties of bark, multiple species of moss and two kinds of mushroom, the other appearing to be the three-headed lithic pterodactyl described only a paragraph previously. Upon closer inspection, however, Wyntre noticed two large curving boney spikes were the wings would have been.
Meanwhile, from above, a veiled figure stepped off of a twig of a tree above, one that would have snapped if it had anything more than an eighth of the figures supposed weight on it. Upon reaching the ground, still in an upright position, Wyntre had a good chance to analyze the clothing the figure wore. She could tell it was male and lithe. It wore a red velvet robe one might expect on a rich noble, only with a hood also acting as a mask. She could tell, although only vaguely, that there was a face behind that complete hood. The figure looked at Wyntre, currently a floating ball of light...
"Empress Wyntre of the Arcosian Empire. I have been expecting you."
That, it seems, was when everything went black...
And that, it seems, was when everything came back.
Gasping to recover her breath, Wyntre almost forgot she couldn't quite gasp (nor breath) because of a lack of lungs, but then she gasped (and breathed) anyway. Somehow.
Looking around, she noticed she was somewhere she did not recognize. It was a circular brick room with some beings within it she couldn't quite focus. Looking up, she immediately regretted looking up as she saw an infinite upwards chasm. Shocked at this, she looked down to see a nice red velvet rug that may or may not have been dyed in the blood of orphans and cute animals.
""Welcome to the Tower of Antinomy. I am Lord Paimon. I hope you find your stay here abhorrently sufficient.""
This was not exactly the first time everything went black before everything went back in a different location. Heck, this was not even the first time Wyntre woke up, seemingly powerless, at the hands of (what seems to be) an enemy. The difference was that, back then, Wyntre had a way out.
"I take it you know my name, so I won't bother introducing myself. You know, I was sent here by the Prince. This better be important."
""Oh, it is important. Very important, especially for the two of us.""
The figure spoke strangely in a way deserving of two pairs of speech marks. However, concerning his appearance... He was three meters tall with semi-reflective silver skin, a chest bare of anything but a glowing red sigil, his white hair both doing down to his shoulders and forming up into horn-like formations and his face being edgy and smoothless with a 'blind' dead-looking third eye.
"How so?"
""I'm a demon and we're in hell, so I won't bother lying or not telling the full story. So here it goes. I was cursed, a long while ago, by another demon known as Abalam. To make him pay for it, I controlled his mind through extensive torture; he even brought you here,"" he said, Wyntre looking over to the unflinching robed red figure that was being referred to, ""However, the curse you see on my chest corrupts and destroys whatever body my soul inhabits, forcing me to swap bodies every few years to survive. Who you see now used to be an alien gladiator, for example. The problem with the body swapping, however, is more complicated. Only powerful bodies will sustain me. I think yours will do nicely.""
If Wyntre had a face, it would be sickened and disgusted. Despite this, she was curious. "If you need my body, why would you need the soul?"
""A good question. You see, Abalam was smart, emphasis on was. He put up some annoying terms and conditions. Namely, I had to swap souls with a body, meaning I could not swap with a dead body. To prevent me from bypassing this, he also added a few extra conditions, such as my inability to move souls. I found a way through, though. I found a way. All I need to do is put you in your body and swap. Easy.""
For a moment, she thought she couldn't be sickened any further, but she was wrong. It did, potentially, present Wyntre with a chance to have her body back. She only wondered how they'd get it.
By the use of some form of sourcery, Abalam pulled Wyntre's spirit into his hand before putting her in a vial. "It is Bubukyu Glass, made from distilled jabberwock tears. Spirits cannot phase through." helpfully explained the servant. Deciding she didn't have much choice in the matter, she decided to be quiet. That was, at least until she had her body.
""Now, the body. I'm pulled a few strings with some of my chronomancer friends... an exact replica of your body from exactly twenty four hours before your death, atom for atom, soulless. Perfect.""
Transported from one of the 'chronomancer friend's' homes to the Tower was, you guessed it, exactly what Paimon said was going to appear. It was unnerving to see her own soulless body just sitting there. Abalam uncorked the vial that held Wyntre before, as if vanilla, poured the soul into the body's open mouth.
[3,000S spent on physical body]
And then came life. It is reassuring to be able to feel my heart beat again. It felt... Wonderful! There is an old saying that states something cannot be properly appreciated unless one had felt s complete pack of that thing. The warmth in her muscles, the blood flowing through her veins... It was exhilaratingly intoxicating.
""Get up. I want a good fight before the swap.""
Oh, you will certainly receive one. The feelings coursing through her body, the life she felt fluctuate through her organs, it was wondrous. From being in a deep layer of hell, from the trauma of being flooded into your own body, from the unkept anger stacking over time, from all of this, Wyntre found she was close to a stepping stone, a very big one. A threshold, a power beyond! She was close to something, she just didn't know what!
""I'll have you know my Power Level is two million.""
I've defeated stronger.
With a violent burst of energy, Wyntre could not be seen through the vibrant layers of aura, each with a slightly different colour to it. Very vaguely, silhouetted by a cloud of ki, the small figure doubled in size with a roar, her horns bending and sharpening. Then, the maw and cranial regions elongated, along with a slight size increase and the natural shoulder-guards changing shape. Finally, the frame came in on itself, creating what appeared to be a rounder version of the suppressed form. Ladies and Gentlemen, the True Form. Wyntre was very glad to have her own skin back, the colour reminiscent of snow. She was happy to be a powerless observer no longer. She was happy to have such great power! And now, now? Now it was time to make sure she kept her body. Moving to the ground, the ex-bodiless Arcosian got into a battle position.
"Do you know who I am, Paimon?"
""Yes,"" he confidently started, ""You are the Empress of the Arcosian Empire!""
"Not quite. Not only was I the Empress, I was, and still am, among the protectors. I am the bringer of order in the chaos! I am the good in the evil, the lux in the tenebris! Where I went after I died is irrelevant, for my name is Wyntre Cold and I will set things right."
""Hmm. They told me you like speeches. Anyway, prepare yourself. Once we've swapped, you'd be powerless! The power of a good few soul runes is great!""
Getting up from where he was, Paimon and the body he inhabited stood up and powered up, a liquid silver ki flowing around him. From another viewer, it would appear to be two foes, charging up energy in equally-beautiful auras, one of purple and one of silver.
With a flash of energy, the two could be seen. All that could be heard were hundreds of sonic booms causes by hundreds of punches, kicks and (for Wyntre only) tail attacks. Every few seconds, what appeared to be a single frame of the fight would appear somewhere in the infinite chasm above for a fraction of a second. There was not much to describe, for their was not much visible.
With a ki-infused strike, Wyntre was sent down, traveling at a few machs before crashing a few meters into the tiled stone floor, causing debris to fly around the room, making way for what may as well be a crater. Getting up, the Arcosian tried to shrug off any damage as Paimon materialized in front of her, laughing, standing as she was still getting up. As he tried to stomp on her hand in victory, Wyntre saw a chance and grabbed his leg at the last moment and pulled, surprising him as the two seemingly swapped positions.
""Darn you! Soul swap!""
Oh dear. In that one second she had to react, something happened. Twenty five years of mental fortification, the desperation of keeping her body and instincts, it all added up. Opening her eyes, she noticed her body was her own and Paimon's surprised face, looking at her in wonderment. She looked around to see a mental shield made physical around her... The subconscious isn't given enough credit if it can do things like this.
[Psychic Barrier, Psychic Shield and Fimbulvetr learnt]
The fight continued with a punch.
----
Meanwhile, Abalam was watching contently. There was no 'Darth Vader vs Palpatine' mental struggle going on, he was thinking no thoughts even close to betrayal. There were a few things, despite what Paimon said, that Wyntre was not being told. For one, there was something that was only just clicking in Wyntre's mind.
------
A while ago, I was told by an ogre that my brothers were located in 'the Tower of Antinomy'. "Do you know the location of Gelid and Frigid?"
""Yes, they're here. I intended to use them to to coerce you into playing along, but they weren't needed. Now, I intend to eternally torture them. Now, how would that make you feel?""
"Yes, I hated my brothers. Their ignorance of the universe, their endless greed for power and their disregard for galactic injustices are certain qualities they were known for. Despite this, they were, or rather they are, my brothers! They deserve their respect!"
""If you feel this way about relatives whose death you have caused, I wonder how you'd react when I tell you Aksor is currently being tortured as we speak? I wonder what's worse; the inhumane pain or that I put his soul in the body of an old hag?""
[Permission given from Kora]
"You... you dare? He was a friend! He was my friend! You have no right to do what you do!"
""You're right. I didn't have the right to do that, but neither do I have the right to do what I'm about to do and win. 'Right' is a petty concept, you should know this! The universe contains a whole bunch of autonomous fleshbags who desire only the mindless continuation of their species, greed runs rampant. There is no escape from the very nature of life! Give in to my Soul Swap!""
At that very moment, a punch from Paimon propelled Wyntre backwards, her bare feet skidding across the floor causing the bricks to melt with no damage to her feet.
"I am here to make the universe better! I will bring order, happiness and complete universal equality!"
""Such a thing is impossible! Prepare yourself, fool. Abalam, activate the Tower's abilities to change the scenery a little bit, something to set the mood.""
Abalam, in accordance, pulled a lever as the tower (and the endless chasm above) simply faded away to form something else, something far more sinister. It was Arcose, but it was in ruin. Everything that wasn't on fire was smoking. Burnt corpses littered the ground like generously-given grated cheese. A mere glance away and she could see the saiyan queen Zucceta wickedly cackling with Wyntre's skull in her hands. While it was obviously a fake image meant only to distract her, it had an immense mental toll.
"Why do you enrage me so? Why do you torture the innocent for such little gain? Why are you so... cruel?"
""That's an easy one, I'll tell you. I do what I do because I can, it's fun!""
"Fun? FUN? You speak of fun when referring to the pain of bystanders? You speak of fun when referring to their torture and demise? You don't know the meaning of the word."
""Oh, perhaps. But don't worry about that, you won't have to worry about definitions as you eternally starve in a corrupted gladiator's body, strapped up in a mechanism that would make the worst part of hell look like an ice-cream parlor.""
An intense explosion surrounded the Empress. That was just about the breaking point for her. Her mind was nearly on the verge of a sort of... breaking point. From the sheer amount of will-power alone, the 'Arcose' facade fell and the tower was revealed, but the walls were in disrepair from Wyntre's intense flaming aura of indigo. This was it.
""Wha-? What are you doing? Answer me this instant!""
"You are a murderer. You are a torturer. You tried to steal the body of an Empress. Countless have suffered because of you. This alone is justification enough to kill you were you stand and I'm sure I've barely covered the list."
""That doesn't answer anything! Answer me, what are you doing, you insolent wretch?""
With a flash of speed, Wyntre took Paimon by surprise with an uppercut initiated with her left leg. Meanwhile portions of the wall and floor were missing, revealing lower levels and the (literal) hellish landscape outside.
"Sir, we are at heavy risk of complete structural instability."
""I couldn't care less about that, you can fix it later. Change the scenery to the one we talked about. Now!""
And thus, unfortunately for him, Abalam pulled a lever as the room began to change shape again. The Empress, meanwhile, was trying (and failing) to calm herself with prompt meditation. Her aura showed her rage. Opening her eyes, she was sickened. The environment seemed to be a great hall made out of stone and bone. At one end of this hall was a great door, on the other a Super Saiyan Zucceta sitting atop a literal throne of bones with Wyntre's skull being the centerpiece of the 'furniture'. Looking in the center of the room, she was shocked, appalled and enraged to see her friends, friends she didn't know Paimon knew existed, all dead and impaled with large bone spikes. Everyone she had ever cared for, every encountered being that left a good impression. This was to be the breaking point. However, more happened. With a cackle from Zucceta, the eyes of the dead opened as their corpses lifted themselves up, transforming into evil, corrupted versions of themselves with horrifying detail as they began to bow before the unjust saiyan queen and begun to chant her name. She knew it was all fake, but it was all so... enraging. This was the breaking point.
"No. I will not lose my temper. I will master myself, not lose myself. My name, I'd have you know, is-"
""I know what your name is already, shut up!""
"I am the master of my own body, I will not lose control! Regulation, order, peace. How could I expect these qualities in the universe if they are not inside? I suggest you close your eyes."
With an explosion of ki, the entire tower began to cave in on itself as the fake image meant only to mentally torture faded away. As stone cracked and buckled against stone, everything went crashing down, collapsing stones no one cares to dodge. Her aura was extreme, as was the power emanating from it, but the way her body was positioned and her facial expression both had a completely calm demeanor.
[Mastered True Form (Permanent 12x) achieved]
Everything went silent. The aura faded away. The only thing left remaining was Wyntre. No aura, no visible emanation. Despite this, she gave off a calm vibe. It was almost as if she was having a pleasant sleep with her eyes open. Her physical body, too, was more calm and less muscly, making her ever-so-slightly smaller. Around her was what used to be the Tower of Antinomy, an indifferent Abalam and a furious Paimon. The latter wasn't having his day.
""Soul Swap!"" he shouted as the symbol brazen on his chest moved towards Wyntre. With the mere movement of a hand, Wyntre used her Psychic Barrier technique to defend herself from the game-changer. However, unexpectedly, Paimon was far more pleased than she would expect, as displayed by his sickening wide grin.
"What are you so happy about?"
Her answer would be answered soon after when Abalam became very noticeable. His two 'pets', the moss wolf and the wingless lithic three-headed pterodactyl, have fused into, or perhaps back into his hands, turning one hand into a green paw and the other into an empty abyss with three stone tentacles oozing out. This was probably the least alarming thing about him, though. The most alarming thing about him, though, was that dangerous-looking technique he'd been charging for a while. It was a light blue and seemed two have a six-star solar system with five planets in meticulous advances orbit around each, each planet with three moons and each moon with two comets each. Or, tl;dr, it had a bunch of things going in circles.
"Psyche Wreak Toss!"
Completely unable to respond in time, Wyntre barely had enough time to swear a deities name in vain, yet alone use one of her techniques or dodge. The 'Psyche Wreak Toss', while, yes, was named by someone who had had a few dozen too many tequila shots, was a very potent and unique technique with a few notable qualities. Namely, the ability to 'toss' and 'wreak' the 'Psyche' in a couple of unusual ways. Of course, when I say 'a couple', what I actually mean is that it did so in only one strange, albeit effective, way.
Upon bombardment, the entire area was bathed in a certain black fog, appearing to have a texture not quite of smoke and not quite of light, but of something in the middle. Paimon cackled madly, his day was made! For, you see, that technique did not deliver blunt damage, nor damage at all; no, you see, it was neither direct or of current occurrence. The 'smoke' cleared, revealing a very confused Arcosian. And thus the cackling stopped.
""Why isn't there a~?"
"What was that supposed to be?"
"Allow me to elaborate. The Psyche Wreak Toss technique personifies the evil within the victim's soul and gives it a body, effectively splitting the unlucky receiver into a good version and an evil version with power proportioned with the alignment of the complete soul."
Wyntre smiled confidently. So that makes a bunch more sense. She started by saying "I'm sorry to ruin the thought, boys, but my heart is as pure good as a-", but she was quickly interrupted by the personification of Wyntre's evil and her ineffective kick to the neck.
"Worry not, Master Paimon, I put a delay on it."
'Evil Wyntre', as she perhaps is now to be named, looked in many ways like the now-pure equivalent, with the exclusion of a few important aspects. Her biogems were a dark indigo and her eyes were completely blacked out except for two white dots that could barely be seen.
"I stand mistaken."
Fortunately, she, at that time, was not mistaken. Because of the very nature of the technique, she was split into two entities; one of good and one of evil. 'Good' Wyntre, our protagonist, was indeed pure-hearted. Heck, the evil variant was also pure-hearted, albeit pure evil.
"About bloody time I escaped you! All of that 'justice' hogwash was driving me insane!"
Oh dear. "Don't worry. If you think justice is 'hogwash', you're already there."
"WHY YOU LITTLE-!" shrieked the double as she tried to side-punch the fairer of the two, but the attack was simply caught by a tail. The distance in power in between the two was tremendous: 1.8 million in comparison with seventy five thousand. For reference, with the previous statistics in mind, Wyntre was exactly 96% good, give or take a few tenths of a percent. After being thrown into the ground by Wyntre's tail, the darker equivalent squirmed around unconsciously.
"That didn't work out too well for you two, did it?"
""The plan wasn't for your evil equivalent to overpower you... Not exactly, anyway.""
"Whatever do you mean?"
""Behold your undoing, Wyntre!"" alarmed the demon as a technique of his was in it's preparation, a technique Wyntre has seen him use (or at least attempt to use) twice. The Soul Swap. Knowing full well of the machinations of the technique, she brought up her Psychic Barrier comprised of glowing purple solid ki, but was surprised when she was not the target, but rather the near-dead evil Wyntre lying on the floor was. Oh. Oooh. Within an instant, she knew exactly what he meant by 'not exactly, anyway' and scolded herself for not thinking of that sooner.
Like a corpse rising from the dead, the deathly doppelgänger cackled the same way that Zucceta had. Not scared but not confident, our protagonist got a good look to identify changes in the physical appearance of the Malign, as Wyntre only just then decided to call her, after having her soul swapped with that of the Silver Gladiator's. Her eyes, once black with tiny white pupils, were now bleeding black blood (or perhaps tears?) generously. Atop her forehead was what seemed to be a closed third eye. Proudly displayed over the lower chest area was a sigil, the very same that was on the gladiator's body but is no longer. Glancing over in his direction, she saw the silver body, weak and unconscious on the floor, holding Malign's soul (and therefore a portion of Wyntre's). She noticed the lack of a 'closed third eye', the more ordinary eyes and a lighter skin shade.
"I am not lachrymosaic, nor dolorous. I am not vengeful, nor choleric. I am not joyous, nor elated. I am at peace and you would not do well to tempt me. If you let me leave this place, I would be so eleemosynatical to allow you the same luxury."
""Oh, shut up already. Caused merely by my presence, this body is now at a level of power far beyond your own!""
"Yes, because you were lying about the two million earlier. You've now made true your previous falsities."
""I have, and soon I will be far more powerful with the remainder of your power, corrupted and under my sway!""
"We will see, in time."
"Father, leave her to me."
Abalam flew into sight in front of his supposed father, giving Wyntre some thoughts. Abalam referred to Paimon as his father. According to the latter, the former betrayed him and cursed him with a peculiar curse making whatever body he inhabited wither over time. In a strike of revenge, Paimon said he tortured his 'son' until he became his minion in true 'evil overlord' fashion. Now that the two were father and son and therefore likely knew each other a lot more than previously anticipated, the story had been given another dimension. Or perhaps Abalam was simply calling Paimon some aspect of an unholy dementation of the church system: 'Holy Father'. Either way, Wyntre was in for a fight.
In the region of time in between then and the Psyche Wreak Toss, the two monsters that had merged into his hands looked a lot more like hands. Now, they just looked like a green and a grey glove, the first appearing to be cotton and the second was leather. While their appearance has changed, surely their abilities have not? Quickly shooting a red ki blast, Wyntre neutralized it out with her own purple ki blast, and thus signified the beginning of another long battle.
A thin finger tapped against the glass showing the battle to be. This strange observer, difficult to see, was tapping against his crystal ball in numerous odd, difficult-to-predict days.
"Empress Wyntre of Arcose. You sure are determined to set things right, aren't you? Good, that's a nice quality to have. I also see you have the ability to do so, most interesting indeed. Good Luck."
The figure turned slightly to reveal what appeared to be a tall, fair-skinned, gleeful man with golden hair that might have been confused for a Super Saiyan if his hair wasn't so 'calm'. He wore a white robe that might also be seen on a priest and a warm smile.
"You'll need it."
Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the catacombical crypts and labyrinthian mazes deep below the tower were Paimon's torture chambers. Here were dozens and dozens of zombie-like beings shambling around, lost souls forced into a body not their own just so they could be tortured. They have been through so much excruciating pain so often and for so long that they have had all of their memory beaten out of them, excluding basic speaking and listening skills. Normally, these beings, shadows of their former selves, would be collapsed on the ground, having strange muscle spasm fits and attempting to eat themselves. But, as we know, there have been a few alterations in the schedule. They all heard the tower above collapse, except, of course, for the eldest ones who had the portions of the brain responsible for hearing beaten out of them. The newest among them, most at the event horizon of hopelessness, hoped that, whatever happened, Paimon was hurt. Hearing that noise, for those that could hear, was strange. No one in the torture rooms had actually seen the towers, the ones that had had that beaten out of them.
One who had lost hope was Frigid. He was placed in the body of a disabled elderly dog. If that wasn't pride-damaging enough, he knew that the dog's soul and mind were in his body. Frigid was quick to give in to hopelessness. He no longer knew he was Arcosian, he no longer knew of Wyntre. He didn't even know his own name anymore. Any hope he had left in him was beaten out of him on the first day. He was the most lost of causes. The old three-legged mutt that was Frigid now lay on the ground, trying to make himself an old two-legged mutt with his teeth, not knowing what he was doing.
Defending against Abalam's attack with her arms crossed against each other, Wyntre took an opportunity as she head-butted the foe away. As the robed figure prepared a ki attack, he could in no way anticipate what was going to happen, and neither did he as Wyntre gripped his neck with her tail and threw him against what used to be a wall, but was now a pile of rubble. It seems he might take some time to recover.
Or perhaps it might have been if the hill of rubble hadn't exploded, an attack coming from Paimon himself. The very thought sickened Wyntre that a father would kill his son for something as little as this. What even was it? Punishment by death caused by failure to defeat a foe? What injustice is this? Paimon, in Malign's body, cackled on from above. ""Don't look so surprised, he failed me. He deserved what he got. Now I'm going to finish what he failed, by killing you!""
"And then what? You rebuild your tower, without your son? You torture endlessly with no rhyme or reason? You end up a loveless, hollow husk that does but doesn't feel?"
""For that last one, I could say the same to you.""
There was no end to the disgust here in hell. She began to charge energy unknowingly. Did Paimon just call Wyntre 'loveless'? Did the demon state she was 'hollow' and a 'husk'? There was no end to the hypocrisy, the blatant tomfoolery! Beings like Paimon and Zucceta were the reasons innocents cried out in pain, they were the reasons murder is coursing through society! How many must die before the answer is written in their blood? How many must die before the ashes tell you of your failure in life? How many must die before disused bones spell out their sins? Greed pangs in laconic dealings.
"I would mock you if I was offended. I would cry if it was needed. I would laugh if that was humorous and I would smile if I thought it necessary. I am doing none of these things." she started, charging two great balls of ki by her sides: one shone pure white and the other shone in the blackest of blacks. Together, they symbolized the duality of the universe. There is not one without another. Together, she thought, only the truth will remain. "There is a goddess on earth, probably not real, worshipped, say, five thousand years ago. She is the goddess of justice, but not just that. She is the goddess of righteous justice, divine justice. She is the embodiment, the personification, of what you stand against!" she continued, slowly bringing the two orbs of ki together, "It is with great indifference, with no bias, with great justice in mind when I say what I'm about to say:" she practically finished, pushing the two powerful balls of ki together as their opposing energy types propelled each other in a tight double helix of black and white, of life and death. "THEMIS CANNON!"
[Themis Wave, Super Themis Wave and Themis Cannon learnt]
""Wyvern Wave!"
There was only one way for this to end. There was only one way it did.
Wyntre was glad she had a technique to call her own. She was also glad her technique didn't have 'Death' in the title, that was an annoying pattern. It was bad to be called deathly merely because all of her offensive techniques had that very word in the title: death. Now, though. Now she had a technique she had made through her justice, through her new form's stasis and through her memories of Zexama's Candyhameha of which the Themis attacks were loosely based off of.
Yes, the new form. The form that Wyntre didn't quite realize she had achieved. The mastering of the true power of an Arcosian: fittingly bestowed upon their Empress. Only now had she noticed the complete lack of energy loss, the lack of strain and her less muscular appearance. She appeared more impotent, more delicate and thin but the truth was anything but. Her power was greater than before, it was controllable, constant and now she had greater flexible ability with a more lithe, small, supple, spry, nimble and lissom body. The only real problem would be fools who'd call her short. Stuff'em.
Meanwhile, what remained of Paimon was barely breathing on the ground, resting upon what used to be a stone column as he (or she if we were counting the body he was inhabiting) coughed up blood. What ruination he had been through, what embarrassment. He resented Wyntre, he really did. But now had come unforeseen fortunate echoes, the reverberations of his actions that had come to serve him. Something had happened that he had not expected to happen. It had been minutes after his son's death, in which time the curse had been undoing itself. Paimon was free of all bodies but his.
And thus Malign's body became that of Malign, the Silver Gladiator's body became empty and Malign was left confused. Meanwhile, a deep, obviously demonic in origin cackle could be heard as Malign's evil energy re-entered into Wyntre, becoming the 4% it had been earlier caused by another of Abalam's curses, this time the Psyche Wreak Toss, undoing itself after its maker's death.
Somewhere deep below, some of the Hopeful Ones found the magic barrier locking them in disabled, another of Abalam's automatic mechanisms requiring him being alive. As every soul was removed of their body, a very select few recognized what this represented and made their way up in search of, perhaps, a better after-life: among the Hopeful Few included Zarmar, Ortem, Zperin, Ferozt, Aksor and Gelid.
Freedom at last.
"I do hope we meet soon, Empress Wyntre. Perhaps later, when Paimon rises and you will meet his call. How intriguing."