“You… another Foxman…?” Shal said with hollow eyes as he looked at Raymund. His body swayed slightly as his feet remained planted in the same spot. Then his face twisted into a hateful stare toward Raymund. “Do you think something like this matters before an Armament?!?”

Shal’s body began to tremble and that gemstone on his chin began to glow with an intense yellow-green light. The images he had borrowed from the Armament began to rise around him once more. The ground beneath his feet sizzled and spat as it was steadily eroded by his aura. Meanwhile, Raymund could only shake his head sorrowfully at the display. To think the master of the Ghosthound has resorted to such desperate compromises… as the follower of your apprentice, Shal, I have a duty to correct such grievous misconceptions.

No sooner had the Rotten Beast’s hulking mass formed around Shal’s body than Raymund grasped once more and the image was stolen away. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of resistance; at this point, Raymund understood the feel of the image and could confiscate it without any apparent effort. Another tremor rocked Shal’s body and the light from his gemstone dimmed.

It seemed these Armaments weren’t without limit, then.

“You…” Shal looked at Raymund with bulging eyes. His fingers were twitching, as though in his imagination he had his hands around the Foxman’s throat. Shal took a step forward and made a cutting gesture that was perhaps related to one of his images. Of course, nothing happened. All of his borrowed images had been safely removed from his control.

Right now, Shal was just a man with a very silly helmet on his head.

Raymund considered using the images against Shal but decided against it. All of the images he had absorbed were messy and infectious; even by using them, Raymund wasn’t sure if his own image would be able to escape some minor contamination. So instead, he just raised his claws and stepped forward. “You possess no particular bond with these images, Shal. Your grasp on them is feeble. They are child’s play to confiscate from you. And with how weak your Willpower has become-”

“This, big brother,” Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke playfully into Raymund’s ear. His skin began to crawl as he twisted around, only to find that Techetadore had somehow materialized behind him while he was speaking to Shal. His brother was wearing an eerie smile, staring at Shal with glazed eyes. His six tails flicked back and forth behind him with an effortless grace. “Is exactly why I tried to kill you earlier. The Swacc Family has invested so much time and effort into its Armaments. Do you really think its fair that people like us can take all that away in just a moment…?”

Ignoring the pale and weak Shal, Raymund rounded on his brother and raised his claws. Without the mental pressure of finally being reunited, he looked at his brother through the eyes of his ability to sense and interfere with an image. As he did so, a realization dawned on him. Raymund snarled. “You… you are not my brother! You are an image, suppressing him and making yourself at home in his body!”

Instantly, Techetadore’s playful expression slid off his face. What was left in its place was a look of distant boredom. The six-tailed fox shrugged. “Either way, the result is the same. This time, I’ll be sure you bleed out in front of me.”

Techetadore’s hand blurred and he ripped through the air. Unwilling to be so easily defeated this time, Raymund ignored his earlier thoughts and unleashed all three of the stolen images at once. A powerful aura of rot and corruption filled the air, thickening and deepening the space between the two brothers. It was as if Raymund had birthed a humid marsh between them, screening himself from danger.

Of course, that marsh was easily bridged with raw power. The images that Raymund had stolen from Shal were strong, but Techetadore’s chop ripped through them all. An absolute divide seemed to form around his hand, easily severing the stolen images and ripping a deep gash in Raymund’s body.

Luckily, Raymund had seen Techetadore’s brutal style before, so he had already been lurching backward before he saw it coming and was able to avoid the worst of the strike. But still, blood gushed down his chest as he stumbled away.

As Techetadore strolled calmly after the reeling Shal, Helen suddenly interposed herself between them, covered in a grey haze and thrusting her spear toward Techetadore’s heart. The speed and timing of her strike was exquisite. No sooner had she arrived than her weapon was piercing toward Techetadore.

However, whatever being currently resided in Raymund’s brother was a monster.

Techetadore flicked his hand sideways, smashing into the six wicker lines that Helen brought against him. With an audible snap, the wicker lines of Helen’s Domain shatter and she was left reeling. During his own retreat, Raymund noticed what must is blood leaking from the corners of Helen’s mouth and a strong impulse to turn around struck him. But he had an order, and he also admitted to himself that his attempts to help her will not be all that effective.

Techetadore followed up his crushing of her Domain with a kick directly to Helen's chest. She slammed into the ground and tumbled sideways until her limp form rolled to a stop in the middle of a clash between Claudette and a member of the Engraving Guild. Claudette reacted quickly, shouting for Narthalla and covering Helen with her chilling image.

Which gave Raymund a small amount of relief about his Overseer, as he practically dragged himself forward, with one hand on his chest to stem the enthusiastic flow of blood as best as he could. I just need to get…!

“Time’s up, bro.” The monster inside of Techetadore said, raising his hand. As Raymund looked at the body of his brother, he wondered whether his brother was watching through those bored eyes. He wondered if Techetadore would feel pain to watch him die.

He abruptly realized that his brother most likely believed he had already watched him die if he was still conscious within his own body. And with that thought, all the guilt and deep desire to protect his little brother began to ignite. He refused to die tragically before the eyes of the one person he cared about, more than everything else.

Perhaps in another location, Raymund would be powerless to slow this absolute image down. But here, on this battlefield?

Even as Techetadore raised his hand once more, Raymund grasped outward and seized upon the image of someone from Military High Command, across the battlefield. He inwardly winced as that figure faltered and then was struck by a Nether Herald, but he kept his focus on the foe in front of him. An enormous spectral tail flickered behind Raymund’s back.

The image he had chosen was a powerful bronze suit of armor which condensed immediately around his body. The original shape was slightly wrong, but Raymund’s mastery of his Skill had reached the point where he could massage the edges of the stolen images in order to utilize them more effectively.

It only took a second for him to transform into a bronze god of war, looking resignedly at Techetadore’s oncoming strike. He crossed his arms and braced himself. “You cannot kill me, little brother!”

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The image shattered and the bones of Raymund’s arms fractured. He fell unconscious for a brief moment and was awakened by the sensation of the back of his skull slamming into the shattered floor of the crater. The bronze light that had suffused him quickly faded and left him breathing heavily on the stone ground.

Even over the sounds of battle, Raymund could hear Techetadore’s laugh. “Ha! Amusing. But as delightful as this melodrama is… goodbye.”

Yet even as Techetadore crossed the distance between them in an instant and raised his hand above the helpless Raymund with obvious intent to end his life, Raymund smiled up at his brother’s body. Because he had successfully fulfilled his superior’s orders.

Techetadore seemed to sense something at the last second. The Vulpine’s eyes widened and he twisted around. “You-”

“I suppose it’s my turn for a dramatic ambush,” A tired-looking Randidly Ghosthound said, his voice carrying easily across the thirty meters of distance between them. Techetadore frowned over at the Ghosthound, just as the ground beneath him began to glow.

His expression twisted into a look of genuine fear just as the Nether Array beneath his feet activated.

*****

Truly, Randidly was exhausted. Manipulating so many flows of Nether, arranging a grand working, and stabilizing everything with an image overlay were three tasks that he believed himself to be very capable of doing. However, doing all three at once, while also enduring the mental pressure of standing in this chaotic and being surrounded by some of the most powerful individuals in the Nexus had left him completely drained.

His fingers tingled unpleasantly and he felt quite light-headed.

Currently, his Nether Core was spinning so quickly as it struggled to keep up with his Nether demands that it was showing signs of instability. Maintaining the Nether Ritual that dealt with the spatial walls remained a constant drain on his psyche, so recovery was extremely slow.

However, Randidly had paid close attention to Raymund’s story of Techetadore’s overwhelming physical prowess. He felt quite a bit of stress about his meeting with Shal, but Randidly’s mind was also carefully turning over the problem of Techetadore as they had proceeded deeper through the spatial islands. How could a young man, who was admittedly talented, completely overwhelm Raymund Ballast after vanishing for only a few months, when Raymund had experienced five years in Randidly’s Alpha Cosmos?

This Techetadore might have access to a source of Aether to allow him to experience a similar amount of time dilation, but Randidly smelled a rat. But it was only after he observed Shal’s heartbreaking act of throwing aside his own image to use an Armament that he had an inkling of the ‘how’ of Techetadore’s improvement.

So Randidly had set a trap, just in case. After all, as he maintained the wild and barely controllable Nether Ritual to counter the spatial walls and melt the Nether Spire, few individuals would be capable enough to observe some of the more minor movements of Nether. So he had borrowed a lesson from Engraving Guild and made some emergency preparations.

It was a modified version of the trap they had attempted to spring on Randidly and Seeker Thunder Wing in the isolated marsh space. Luckily, Randidly had noticed in time and killed the creator of the array, meaning they hadn’t had to face the Nether Ritual directly.

Because this was the type of Nether Ritual that couldn’t actually be overpowered if it took you by surprise. The easiest way to describe the array would be to compare it to physically tripping someone, only it targeted an image.

The Nether Ritual forcefully made an image aware of its own size, weight, and complexity. The method was esoteric, but it wasn’t possible to dodge or block. An image’s own size and potency would be turned against it.

The more powerful the image was, the more brutal the shock would be.

Time to see how powerful you truly are, Techetadore. Randidly grinned over at his foe as he activated the Nether Ritual.