"You once told me that."
Riley spoke calmly as he regenerated his missing arm. It grew back, and he clenched his fist and unclenched it, checking to ensure it was still functioning properly.
"—?"
"You had once tried to explain to me that all of this was worthless. That these humans were fleeting, that it all existed for our own amusement. That they were meant to be crushed."
In spite of the rapidly accelerating power-creep of his opponent, Riley did not waver as he met Scott's gaze eye-to-eye.
"I had a lot of time to think over that worldview. And all I have to say is that it's stupid, so stupid."
Air escaped his smiling lips as Riley summoned [Bleeding], keeping a firm hold over the blade.
"Who cares if all of this is worthless? What does it matter? I agree with you, y'know," Riley admitted. Firmly standing against the trope of the villain being the one to claim their similarities, Riley spoke the truth he understood.
"—This world is worthless. The things you mentioned back then—titles, social standing, I can understand that stuff. Once you're dead, who cares how favored you were? When you die, all of that stuff doesn't matter. It's pointless, truly."
"...And yet," Scott interrupted, narrowing his cold eyes, "you say that these people are the things that matter, isn't that right?"
Riley's eyelids widened, caught off guard. "Well, yeah. Wowie, you're a smart cookie. Yes, yes—that's my answer to our little dilemma. The world is worthless. Money, cars, all of that's nothing but junk. But if those things can help people, that's when those things become valuable. The people in this world——"
"Pfft… haha, hah!"
Interrupting with a childish laugh, Scott closed the gap once more, his movements roaring like thunder as he met Riley face to face with ferocious speed.
"Spare me all that garbage! When I say nothing matters, I mean it. You can't prove any of their lives have value, you can't prove any of that!"
"And neither can you."
"Exactly."
Shoving Riley back, Scott delighted himself in his strength and might.
"—The truth is, we can't prove either side is correct, can we!? After all, if we could prove anything, we wouldn't need to shout at each other like this! If our values were one-hundred-percent non-negotiably true, just imagine how dumb that would be? If you could prove the value of life, if you could prove that anything mattered, if you could prove ideologies correct or incorrect."
Riley's forehead ran hot with sweat as he swallowed the saliva building up in the back of his throat.
"That's why I don't care. I don't need to know if life has value, I don't need to know if what I'm doing is wrong or incorrect or suboptimal—if it's what I want to do, then I'll do it. I don't need any kind of motive beyond that."
An utterly self-sufficient worldview. Dedicated to following himself and his own goals, without room for others.
Riley tried to comprehend. He couldn't.
Even if he put himself in Scott's shoes as a servant addicted to satiation, even if he understood the desire to hurt and kill others, even if he tried to envision a world where life was without any kind of value—he simply could not.
To him, life was simply too precious. While he had taken many lives, he always needed to justify it to himself. Whether it was in pursuit of strength, to satisfy his urges, or to win the war—he always needed some kind of justification for the taking of the most precious thing in the universe.
Perhaps it was emotion. No, it likely was emotion. His heart had to be the one telling him so.
There was nothing "logical" about it. Of course, that didn't mean that the value of life was inherently illogical. It was simply that Scott's words ran true—there was no absolute proof that life had value.
But even without proof, there was an instinctual feeling in his heart that told him the value of a life.
His experiences with Kara, and the effects her death had on his life. His experience with the school-tragedy, seeing parents come to school-board meetings and lose the strength in their bodies from the tears of losing children. His experience with Nina, who in spite of being far weaker physically than he, had been the one to save him multiple times because of her humanity.
Those experiences told him that life was precious, and something to hold dear.
It taught him that the things that take life—despair, hopelessness, the evil of the world—were things to fight against. Things to struggle, things to kick and scream and bite and claw at.
But regardless, it was simply nothing with definite proof. Nothing fundamentally logical.
"...Then, that's just how it is," Riley stated. His face losing the confused expression he'd had as he tried to comprehend Scott's worldview, it had instead replaced itself with a resignation, and a determination for the inevitable.
"Yeah. I'm sure we've come to the same conclusion, haven't we?"
There was no mistaking it.
"Even if we screamed at each other for hours, gathered 'proof' and 'logical explanation' for our viewpoints—that would simply be worthless."
Beginning the sentence, Riley had laid the foundation with a serious expression, whilst Scott continued with a smile.
"Of course! It all boils down to our hearts being in different places. In the end, it's not about logic. It's not something we can explain or learn. It's us. Who we are."
Just as Riley could not ask Scott to become Riley.
Just as Scott could not ask Riley to become Scott.
"Our values are too different. We'll never understand each other."
The one who spoke—did not matter. It was a sentiment shared, and belonged to neither in particular.
Completely, they agreed.
…
A battle which absolutely had to go down in the history books.
Flying through the air, whizzing around like fighter-jets, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, utilizing the "walls" of reality to press off and gain momentum towards strikes; it was entirely inconceivable.
To those beneath, it gave them the absolute feeling of an ant. Ants that crawled along the dirt of a warzone, the people on the ground felt an uncanny similarity between themselves and those very ants.
[Crashing] X [Crashing] X [Crashing].
Three consecutive bombs detonated in the air, scorching the sky with heat. Sending his opponent soaring through the air, away from the city below, Riley grabbed onto a noose and flew beyond the speed of sound, rapidly approaching his target.
[Hanging] X [Bleeding] X [Falling].
Reaching his disoriented opponent, utilizing the sensory overload from his opponent's heightened ears, Riley delivered a fatal strike to their neck. Removing their head from their shoulders, only for it to then regrow on the body in the matter of a true instant, his attack which rang true had been nulled.
"Shi—"
Unable to speak, Riley felt his stomach collapse in on itself from an absurd force. A fist, buried to the wrist inside his stomach, had sent him through the air.
A pain which he'd experienced many times before ran through him, to which he shrugged it off as blood crept from the corners of his mouth.
He's stronger, much stronger than I am.
His opponent, the vampiric Nightripper, blessed by the moon, crouched. Putting his knees to his chest, and subsequently utilizing the newfound explosive force of his body to kick off the air, Scott appeared as a mere blur, instantly removing Riley's wrist as he slashed at him.
With such intense speed, it was incredibly difficult to aim, making evasion—or minimization of damage—a definite possibility. Even still, should even one attack land to his head—there'd be nothing left in him that could fight, should that be the case.
Even still, he needs to jump in order to move. Unlike him, I can have [Hanging] fly around and adjust my movements. I am fluid, he can only move straight.
His opponent once more took the form of a bullet, leaping through the air with incredible speed. To which, Riley summoned a wall of cars, creating an aerial landmine his opponent had no way to avoid—erupting into flames, the sky was painted in orange and red.
His opponent fell from the flames, his body showing no signs of harm due to his exceedingly potent———
"Hydraulic Railgun: Armor-Piercing Nimbus Rounds."
The clouds in the air—were made of water.
[Drowning] X [Drowning] X [Drowning].
Entering freefall, an audible laugh escaped Riley's throat. Then, a humming. The sound of energy being gathered, as if standing next to a nuclear reactor, flooded Scott's auditory world.
The skies began to shake, the air began to tremble. Anticipation, it was—
Three great streams lit up the darkness, as concentrated water pierced Scott's body with tennis-racket sized beams, not allowing him to regenerate.
"HK!" Scott instinctively roared. Within himself, he had a fundamental understanding of how much blood he had left in store.
With his currently boosted might, even a singular drop of blood was enough to regenerate the entirety of his body. This process ran at a fast-pitched pace, as his body would always try to regenerate as fast as possible; every millisecond was viewed as an opportunity to regenerate.
But in this circumstance, with the flowing "railguns" of water continuously eviscerating his body, that constant desire for healing worked against it. With each millisecond, a drop of blood was administered to the areas.
Fundamentally akin to a pierced-open water-tank, his blood supply was plummeting, trying to regenerate wounds that wouldn't heal.
To which, Scott had the fear of death once more ingrained into him—
But, of course, that couldn't last forever. Even if Riley could draw out the clouds and use them for his attacks, the clouds were not limitless. Having used them up, Riley then stood atop them.
As Scott's flightless body plummeted through the skies, forcing him to use reality as a trampoline, he saw it. The gargantuan mass of red in the skies—the red mist, so to speak.
"Hahaha! I really earned the name 'Red Mist,' ah? Pfft, woah, that was bad, even for me. But what can I say? I'm reeaally new to this whole 'social' thing; expect a bad one-liner or two."
Clouds of water infused with Scott's blood were being used as a platform, which Riley stood upon.
And, if I condense this water…
[Drowning] administered, Riley stood on blood-red concrete. Opening his arms wide, Riley looked at the moon and smiled towards it.
"Take a good look, Ghira."
Leaning back, Riley performed a trust-fall with the night, as [Drowning] opened fire like a turret.
The bullets of concrete and lightning-paced evisceration wailed in the sky. Far above the world, the red gun turned Scott's body repeatedly into pieces of red mist. As if it were a belt-fed sniper-rifle, akin to a weapon one would see on a fighter-jet, Scott was pushed back by the intense attacks.
Low. He was low on blood.
"Hk. Hah."
Yet, there was still a smile on his face. After all, he was enjoying himself.
Even if it was painful, there was still a certain enthrallment from simply taking part in such a cinematic battle. Feeling himself a legendary figure, Scott determined himself for victory.
"Riley Wo—"
"—You can kiss my glock."
Gunshots rang. Even in free-fall, Riley Woods had gotten close enough to empty both revolvers into Scott's head and heart. His brain temporarily taken out of commission, it had felt like time itself had been repeatedly skipped for a few milliseconds.
Flying through the air, Riley laughed as he pistol-whipped Scott in the nose with the butt of the gun, striking with [Falling]-boosted might which sent the vampire spinning around in the air.
"Guns are great! Too bad my opponent regens too fast for them to be fully effective. Oh well!"
[Falling] X [Falling] X [Shooting].
Bursting towards the ground, Riley followed through with another pistol-whip, striking Scott's neck and causing a thick crunch to be drowned out by a sonic boom.
This reminds me of playing FPS games with Nina when we were younger. She was a really kind girl, but after I spawn-camped her for the thousandth time, she'd get angry and pistol-whip me with the controller.
…Man, I'd like it if she did that to me now.
Remarkably uncouth thoughts for a battle for the ages found themselves lodged in Riley's perverted mind.
Those thoughts caused him to smile a bit, taking him out of the battle—
—Pain.
Somewhere around the lower body, Riley felt pain. As well, when his eyes squinted, trying to locate the vampire, he didn't find him.
That's strange. A dot should be right about… Wait, something wet.
Looking down, Riley's vision found him without pants. Also missing were his legs, ripped off at the waist.
Wait. Shit, shitshitshit.
No longer missing, Riley was able to identify them. They were separate from his upper body, as his entrails spilled out. Utilizing [Hanging] to keep himself in the air, Riley heard the sonic boom that had yet to reach him.
Oh. Okay then. I can't enjoy myself too much when I'm fighting.
He'd gotten cocky. And subsequently, bisected.
Riley had taken his focus off the battle, indulged himself in his nostalgia, and this was the result.
Regenerating his lower body, his pants retrieved by [Hanging], Riley put them on and looked around.
If I were him, I would have followed through on the attack and struck me when I was caught off guard. Then, why didn't he?
Up in the air, nearing the clouds, he tracked Scott's location.
"Hk."
[Falling] X [Falling] X [Falling].
His heart brimmed with anxiety.
Striking the ground like lightning, Riley's body was a mess which he had to regenerate. If he had not boosted his VO2 Max with absurd training only possible through extreme regenerative abilities, Riley would likely pass out from the blood loss. Even still, it was a price worth paying in his eyes.
"Shit…!"
Flying through the air, Riley reached Scott, who had plummeted to the ground from a free-fall. In a park, there were children who had stayed out too late at night, and had remained to watch the "fireworks" in the air.
Scott pressed off the ground, going to kill—
"NO!"
Commanding him, Riley tackled the vampire to the ground. Pressing him into the dirt, Riley mounted the man, staring with eyes flooded by cold hatred.
Jamming the knife directly into the vampire's neck, Riley was sprayed with blood. To which, the vampire burrowed his fists into Riley's organs. Hot. Heat burned through Riley's organs, as pain flooded his body.
Even still,
"Just die!"
In both hands, a reverse-gripped knife was wielded. One after the other, Riley began to eviscerate Scott's chest, neck, stomach and head.
"Die, die, just die already!"
Crying out for his opponent's death, the Failed Star continued.
He has found himself enjoying the fight. He had felt a strange togetherness from the vampire.
Despite their inability to understand each other, they mutually agreed on that very fact. And so, they had unspokenly compromised; the winner of their fight was the one who was "right."
Riley had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Even when he himself was injured or in pain, he still enjoyed the act of combat. Of putting the very limits of his abilities against a worthy opponent, and showing himself how far he had come.
—The battlefield was pure. Between just two people, it was a purity difficult to replicate. And yet, his opponent had muddied it. By adding in the complexities of others, Scott had tarnished the battle of physical ability and ideals.
The vampire struggled, and would not go down so easily. His hands moved around inside Riley's insides, forcibly pulling out the intestinal tract.
"AGGHHHH!!"
Pain. Pain, pain, it was all pain. Sharp pains, dull pains, the feeling of irreparable "loss" he'd experienced so so so so much throughout his fights. His organs leaving his body, being torn at, being clawed—
Even still,
"HNGRHH!!"
Riley's gaze flinched. It was only human. His gaze flinched, yet he would not flicker. Continuing to stab the knife into the flesh, continuing to drag it along the body and forcibly remove the blood, Riley entered a state of utmost intensity.
So much blood. Their viscera became entwined, twinned by death and mutilation. Even as both cursed instinctively shed tears and roared in the pain, they did not stop. Intertwined, similar, sharing, identical.
Riley felt hands grasping at his lungs from the inside of his own body, piercing and ripping them into pieces, shutting off his ability to breathe. Unable to breathe, he was drowning. Suffocating. Blood burned the bottom of his gullet, rising up and creeping past his grit teeth, spilling out onto the dirt.
Scott, who felt the weight of his bones and organs pierced, his body splitting apart, his flesh being parted by the sharpness of the blade which entered him and drained him of his lifeblood. Drowning? Hardly. Missing. He was losing, his body was rapidly marching towards a true death.
Abandonment of pain.
Rejection of death.
Trying to inhale, Riley found himself suffocating. His lungs had popped and been torn apart, his ability to breathe was fundamentally incompatible with the ruin of his lungs.
Blood spilled from the corners of his lips, from the bottom of his mouth, as his grip tightened instinctively. The blood from his opponent's wounds began to slow, began to slow, began to grow weaker.
Light pulses of blood revealed how utterly close his opponent was to complete death.
He couldn't breathe. Unable to breathe. Suffocating. Drowning. Asphyxiating. Strangled. Dying, dying, dying. If he dared to regenerate, his brain would lose all blood and oxygen—driving him to certain unconsciousness and death. If he healed, he would die. If he did not heal, he would continue to bleed from these exorbitant wounds, and he would die.
Die, dying, death.
"HRGHH!"
Declaring his intention, Riley did not stop driving the blade further and further into his opponent's soul.
The pain was excruciating. The pain of being ripped, his skin and flesh and bone torn open as if he was a human jacket, of being torn apart from the inside out, was simply too much to bear. Too much to endure, yet he did not endure.
He could not endure.
—Rather, discarding it. Nullifying the pain by focusing everything onto his work, tightening his muscles to distract himself from the pain.
His arm was losing strength. Unable to breathe, flooded by agony, he lost the strength to continue with full force. But even at a weakened capability, he wouldn't cease.
Past the pain, past the fear, past the realization that his life was going to end, past anything and everything in and of the world, discarding that which would hold him back from this fight, he focused.
Intently, training his life's gaze upon this one moment, he focused everything, everything, everythingeverythingeverything into killing this one person.
Impaling his opponent through the neck with the knife, his hands covered in blood slipped. It was such an overwhelmingly gory scenario that his hand slid down the handle and forcibly unsummoned the knife from the world to prevent self-harm.
"Ghhk, ghaaha, hghhaghhaaghhaaghghaa!!!"
What sounded like a poor imitation of laughter, Riley had tried to chuckle without having lungs to inhale or exhale with. Regaining the knife he ruthlessly beheaded the vampire, forcing him to regenerate a new head.
Tunnel-vision. His ears stopped working properly, only able to hear muffled sounds. His glimpses into consciousness began to slow, and he felt himself fading from life itself.
—Clutching.
Dragging the knife across flesh became everything. Hardly able to even see, his body grew colder and colder.
"You… son of a bitch!!!"
The fangs grit, the cursed creature struggled helplessly, continuing to claw apart the man's viscera and pull them from his chest, Scott felt himself almost paralyzed by muscle-weakness.
Cold, pale, wet and weak. His body, which subsisted on the blood of innocents, was no longer able to regenerate. Was no longer able to supply oxygen to his muscles.
As the weak human dragged his knife through the chest, splitting the heart in two, the lifeforce began to fade.
"Kgh! Y-you, you idiot…!"
The vampire's voice rang cold and puny, hoarse and quiet. Obscured by Riley's own fading life, the hero had trouble hearing.
"Don't you understand!? You could have healed if you'd just gotten off of me! And now, you're going to die!!"
As Riley used the last embers of his strength to stab the vampire in the neck, a very first had occurred.
[Bleeding] did not enhance blood loss.
The vampire's body, more pale white than ever before, had lost its healing factor. And once that happened, it was only a matter of time before the brain gave out due to a lack of oxygen.
"...Kghk, hkkk! You, Riley Woods...!"
The hero raised his fist, and used [Falling], smashing it down upon the monster's nose. Causing a hard crunch that did not spill blood, Riley caved in a skull.
Unable to speak from his torn apart lungs. There were no words.
Simply, a weak wheeze. And a light, upwardly tugged grin.
Riley continued. Grabbing Scott by his brown hair and pinning his head to the ground, Riley heaved strike after strike upon the servant's skull.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Crunch. Crunch.
Splat. Splat.
"GRRRRAAAAAHHH!!!!!"
Obliterate.
Riley Woods slammed his fist through the ground, delivering the killing blow to the vampire's head.
…
"Hk, ghhh, ghhh, hhhhaa…"
His throat was drowned in blood, as his body gave out and fell to the side. Upon tilting his chin downwards, he saw the brutality he had ignored up until now.
His stomach had been ripped open as if fabric, his skin folded as red smears lined his entirety. The white cape had been stained with blood, and his organs were on the outside, resting on Scott's lower body.
———
His final thoughts were not that of words. Instead, all that was within his head was simply an image of a happy family. Not his own.
Simply, a happy family, who had lived because of what he'd done.
—Following shortly after his body, Riley's life gave out.