Alchimia Rex

The air was heavy with the scent of blood and death, choked with smoke and darkness. The fight had moved them towards the food-farms around the city, but not far enough that Monica might use the spiky walls as footholds. Instead, she was limited to running on dry ground, spinning and pouncing between feints and attacks before the Strong Enemy would plunge into darkness that wasn’t there.

Monica could feel it in her shadow, the tug from a prey that was no prey. Her fur stood on edge, her ears swiveling this way and that, hackles raised and body tense. Every little shift in her surroundings was a possible threat, a possible place for the Strong Enemy to attack from.

A shimmer of blackness and a twist in the shadows was followed by spikes of shadow thrusting out of the ground. Monica leapt up, crushed soil exploding out as she went up high into the air.

Yet she was not safe. The air around her darkened as if night had come, and Monica felt the subtle shift in energy from the Strong Enemy. It was a trap. Rather than jump through the darkness and into safety, Monica thrust her power into the soles of her feet, turning the air solid for the split second required to plunge downwards faster.

Right as she touched the ground, three shadows coalesced, each one a copy of the Strong Enemy clawing at Monica. She just ignored them, tail whipping out to thrust at the shadow of the second one.

The shadows wavered, puffing into smoke, and an angry hiss followed, eyes made of blackness glaring up at Monica as a hand clenched the blade attached to her tail. Her attempt to shatter the blade was met with a flurry of darkness, forcing her to let go and retreat rather than be impaled.

The Strong Enemy glared at the shadow-spikes Monica had just used, eyes narrowed. “You managed to copy that even after only seeing me use it twice.” Her voice came in a low growl. “No wonder little Throag wants to fight you so badly.” The gaze shifted to Monica’s tail as she swayed her blade back and forth. “But relying on tools like that… are your claws not sharp enough?”

Monica didn’t answer, paws clenched into fists to hide the slight trembling in her wrists.

With a snarl, she pounced, knowing her enemy would dodge and plunged into the shadows after her, feeling the strings of control that the Strong Enemy had spread all over.

Rather than wait and see what trap the Strong Enemy was planning, Monica leapt out of the shadows closer to the city wall, running towards it while the Strong Enemy gave chase.

It was a fight of shadows. The Strong Enemy could make dangerous shadows, and fake-danger shadows. Monica could tell the fake from the dangerous ones, but what concerned her was how the Strong Enemy could make shadows out of light. She’d tried to keep it secret, but Monica could tell that some of the attacks she was using should not have been possible. Like she’d been making them appear out of nothing at all.

As she dodged, weaved, and avoided the threats, rushing towards the wall and the many spikes on it, Monica thought back to her conversation with Rick about shadows.

“Shadows aren’t the opposite of light, they are the absence of light,” he had said.

And then Monica had made the shadows in the room swallow up the candles, to prove a point. Shadows WERE the opposite, they were there with or without light, they could be deeper even if there was no light at all! Rick hadn’t understood, but Monica did.

At least, she thought she did. Dodging the spike of shadows that thrust out of empty sunny air gave her pause for consideration, paws scuffing the soil as her opponent kept up her dogged pursuit.

The Strong Enemy was not like normal enemies Monica had faced; she was not satisfied with attacking from a distance, moving in close to launch attacks of her own. But it wasn’t a one-sided barrage. Monica gave as much as she received, the exchanges brief but fierce. Neither of them was capable of landing a definite blow on the other. Every attack was dodged or parried, turned into little more than a scratch or four.

Despite the apparent stagnation in the exchange, they both knew that Monica was fighting on borrowed time. She’d been fighting the knights and then ran over as fast as she could, while this enemy was fresh. Out of the two, it was the Strong Enemy that splurged more power with every blow and Monica who had to fight conservatively.

As soon as they reached the city walls, Monica used the wooden spikes as footholds to jump over. Tendrils of darkness emerged from the stone, reaching out to grab her before she could escape. Coiling her body tightly into itself so she could spin fast, her tail lashed out and tore through the fake-limbs.

The Strong Enemy sent five fakes and joined them, seeking to engage in another brawl at the top of the wall. They surrounded her, attacking from every direction at once. Monica’s tail thrust back at the shadow behind her as she jumped away from the others, the blade pierced through the fake, giving her the room to dodge.

Yet pain shot across her chest, bloody strips torn out even when the claws had missed.

Monica roared, letting out a burst of darkness and spikes, forcing her opponent back before the Strong Enemy could try again. If she hadn’t pushed back as far as she had, the attack would’ve torn her open.

It was another new trick, one Monica hadn’t figured out… for now.

“Your instincts are sharp…” The Strong Enemy frowned. “Was it luck? It can’t be this… place… that made you like this.” The word came out in a snarl of disgust, glancing at the city.

The city was on fire… again. At least, a bit of it was. A lot less than last time, and it didn’t look like it was spreading. Which was good, because Dia would be very angry if it was less contained. Yet even from up here, Monica could sense the presence of others that didn’t belong, their scent reeked of blood and violence.

“What are you planning?” The Strong Enemy asked, eyes narrowed.

Monica had a hunch.

Pouncing towards the Strong Enemy with her claws out, her opponent prepared to counter-attack. Except Monica had been sneaky, turning around mid-air and lashing out with her tail as she landed on her haunches, facing away. The chaotic flurry of her bladed-tail pushed the Strong Enemy back, and gave her the perfect opportunity to pounce a second time… towards the city.

The chase renewed. The Strong Enemy had ambushes and attacks around every corner, but Monica used the familiar streets and alleys to escape. Every so often they would trade blows, with Monica coming out on top more often. The narrower spaces made it harder for the Strong Enemy to put her fakes to better use, and she was forced to use more spikes and those strange attacks that had longer reach than they should.

Monica used that breathing room to better maneuver them both through the streets. Twisting and turning through the familiar layout, she turned to hunt down the nearest intruder in her city. The Tigress was standing next to a burning house and a dead maiden, holding an unconscious man under her arm.

Right as Monica took the chance to pounce, a wall of shadows began to rise to try and block her off, but it hadn’t been quick enough. Monica slammed into the Tigress even as the invader had let go of the human and tried to flee.

The two tumbled in a flurry of claws and fangs, but the invader focused on snatching Monica’s wrists in an attempt to stop her claws.

She never saw the tail-blade.

“NO!” The Strong Enemy roared in anger, trying to stop Monica.

But Monica raised her own wall of shadows, small, but strong enough to stall the split second it took to pierce through the Tigress’ chest and out her back.

The next moment, something massive and black hammered against Monica with the force of an avalanche, sending her flying into the nearest house and through it. A sense of danger welled up within her even as she crashed into the second house, and plunging into the shadows, she emerged just in time to see the wooden house explode. It was an explosion without fire, blackness surging out like a black sun, piercing through the wood as if it were no obstacle at all.

A moment later, the blackness was gone, and the structure collapsed in on itself.

“This fight is between you and me.” The Strong Enemy snarled, baring her fangs, the shadows in the city shaking as the air thickened with her power. “Leave my kittens alone.”

“MY RICK!” Monica roared back, pulling her power inwards in case she needed to protect herself from another attack. “MY CITY!”

Without waiting for the next attack, Monica turned and bolted back into the alleyways. Her nose had picked up the scent of the next invader and she wasn’t going to let them escape.

This time the Strong Enemy was far more aggressive, creating tall walls of shadow and dozens of fakes-that-were-not-fakes to block Monica’s way. The clashes were severe, with the Strong Enemy trying to create encirclement after encirclement to trap Monica. But she’d turned all her efforts away from fighting back and towards running with everything she had.

Every opportunity to escape rather than fight, she’d take it, moving ever closer to whatever invader was closest. This time she didn’t get the chance to kill them, the Strong Enemy having clearly warned them in advance.

With every passing minute there were less enemies in Monica’s city. They were retreating, either by force or because they no longer had any incentive to stay. Twice she’d nearly managed to get the drop on another Tigress, the Strong Enemy had stopped holding back, creating two more black-suns just to make sure it’d be impossible for her to get close enough for an attack without having half her body blown off.

The size and frequency of the attacks concerned Monica, though. She’d thought the Strong Enemy would’ve begun getting exhausted by now, but there were no signs of that, only seeming to grow stronger the longer their chase progressed. Worse, even when she was earnestly trying to escape, the Strong Enemy remained just one or two steps behind.

Aware this was not a fight she would be able to win in her current condition, Monica formed a plan.

The pursuit was relentless, and with the Strong Enemy sending the fakes to harass Monica in between large attacks, the Sabertooth felt her advantage in maneuverability nearly gone even as she led the battle towards the worst place in the city: the stinky place.

She would’ve used one of the smaller tricks she’d tucked away and hidden all over the city, but Monica suspected they were too weak. The boom-balls were good, but she hadn’t stashed enough that it would make a difference in this fight, so instead she sought the most powerful and dangerous weapon Rick had ever made.

“You cannot run forever.” The Strong Enemy declared, though the waver in her voice as the wind shifted and they both caught a whiff of the rancid piss scent that was Rick’s bad-place.

She launched a barrage of shadow-spikes at Monica.

“Monica knows.” She replied flatly. Rather than dodge, she jumped and raised her defenses, allowing herself to get launched through the doors of Rick’s factory and into the large ugly building.

Dissolving into shadows before she could break too many things, she rushed to navigate towards the one place she’d hoped to never go to.

The door was small, plastered in red, with heavy pieces of metal and wood barring any entry. Large words were written on top, and drawings of skulls and bones and death underneath.

“Thioacetone.”

The word alone made her shudder.

Monica sucked in a deep lungful of bad air and barrelled through.

“You should not be here, kitten. This is my fight.”

The young Tigress stared up at the clan matron, nodding though not without shivering. She did not have the faintest wish to butt into the Mother’s business, more so when Mother was in such a foul mood. “The clan has fully retreated, and the Vampires are doing the same.”

“Attacking the blood-suckers while they’re retreating back to their rock would be fun, but it’s not a risk we can take,” Mother said, glaring at the large and ugly building, before frowning further, nose curling up. “Do you… smell that?”

It took a second before the Tigress caught it too.

“It’s almost like… rotten eggs?” It was an odd addition to the stench of rancid piss that already lingered over the area like a curse.

No sooner had she spoken that they saw the white Sabertooth emerge from the building, holding a metal box as if it might explode. Remembering the explosions they’d witnessed used in the fight, the Tigress suspected it might be exactly that.

“You are powerful.” Mother stepped forward, snarling. “Why don’t you fight!?”

Never had Mother’s words felt so heavy and dense that the very air buckled around the matron. It took everything the young Tigress could muster not to collapse under the pressure.

“Monica is not stupid.” The white Sabertooth replied, moving closer. “You have Rick. Monica need help to get him back.”

Mother didn’t answer to the accusation, and the Tigress’ eyes flickered at the box again as the Sabertooth very carefully put it down and opened it, pulling out a… a glass jar? The inside had a second smaller jar, wrapped in wax and cloth of some sort.

“Give Rick back.” Monica declared intently, holding the jar with such care and concern it was almost as if it might bite her hand off. “Or else.”

“You… are trying diplomacy?” Mother’s voice came thick with surprise, the matron blinking at the feline, not making a move. “You are full of surprises. But the clan won’t give back that which is theirs. You are worthy of joining the clan and keeping him… if you can beat Throag.”

“Monica cannot win today, but Monica will win next time.” The Sabertooth’s ears folded back, and for a moment there was a look of… regret? “And… Monica will make sure you never come back.”

She threw the jar up into the air, arching well above Mother and the Tigress before shattering it with a tiny burst of shadows. The Tigress had just about been ready to run for cover, yet… nothing happened. Just the fragments of shattered glass raining down around them.

And a single soft touch of a single drop of something that wasn’t quite water.

Then, she made the mistake of breathing in.

The smell of rotten egg slammed against her like a punch from Throag. It was rotten eggs but infinitely worse, the eye-watering stinging fumes swirling straight into her nose. The world spun as the Tigress’ stomach flipped, the smell becoming more dreadful with every passing moment.

There was a dreadful layering to the horror, a sickly sweetness that might have reminded her of rotting corpses if she could make a mountain of them and left them to bake in the sun. Sour and acidic vomit followed, putrefaction in its purest form drilling into the back of her throat, into her tongue, into the underside of her skull.

It was every bad horrible smell combined into one and made worse.

The Tigress recoiled, any thoughts of combat gone and an immediate desire to flee. The nauseating blend hammered itself into her core as the contents of her stomach were released. There were screams further into the city, the sound of hurling mixed with wails of agony that was spreading in every direction like wildfire.

“WHAT IS THAT!?” The Tigress asked between gasps, looking around wildly with teary eyes and not finding the culprit.

The question went unanswered, Mother wrapping them both in her darkness and throwing them away from the city as fast as possible.

But no matter how fast they ran, the stench would follow.