The Legion: Heartson

Rachel: Victor... Popescu.

The name hung in the air, cold and heavy. Mason's pulse quickened as he took in the calm, impeccably dressed figure before them. This man, whoever he was, exuded an aura of authority and control that sent a chill down his spine.

Victor's gaze flicked between the two of them, his expression one of mild amusement.

Victor: Ah, Rachel... and you? The chosen one, Mason Heartson! Well, isn't that just delightful. Truly, it's quite an honor for me. But, you know, sneaking through floors that don't exactly have your names on them…, I mean, really, it's just not the politest of behaviors, wouldn't you agree? I always say, a place for everyone, and everyone in their place. And you, Rachel, of all people—my favorite, my trusted vice-captain! Did you think I wouldn't notice? Silly, silly.

Victor's smirk widened, his eyes flashing with something that bordered on delight.

Mason swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure as Victor stepped closer.

The cold amusement in his sharp, purple eyes made Mason's skin crawl, but he forced himself to hold his ground, fists clenched, his heart pounding. Victor's gaze swept over them both, settling first on Mason, a hint of disdain tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Victor: You know, all this effort you put into dodging me—it's honestly inconsiderate. It would be so much simpler, for both of us really, if you'd just stayed where you were. 

Victor's gaze drifted lazily to Rachel, his smile twisting into something almost pitying, as if he were chiding a child for attempting something far beyond their reach.

Victor: And you. Defecting, really? And to think, you'd do it so haphazardly. Did you even consider that you'd end up here, with me? Surely you must have thought this through—or was this just a bit of… misplaced optimism? Did you believe—truly believe—that you were somehow owed a bit of... leniency? That line of thinking…

Mason bristled, stepping forward, his fists still ablaze with the black flames of the Astral of Death. He wanted to throw Victor's arrogance back in his face, to break that smirk. 

Mason: Who… who do you think you are? 

Victor's expression barely flickered, but a glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes. He continued his speech, his tone dripping with a self-assured superiority.

Victor: So defiant, so... energetic. It's almost as if you believe that with enough spirit, the world will bend to your will. Both of you…

Rachel's face twisted with fury and fear, her voice sharp and desperate as she shouted at Mason.

Rachel: Run! Now! He'll kill you!

But Mason was done with running.

I'll teach you to look down on me.

The black flames around his feet intensified, propelling him at Victor, his fist burning with death's energy. But Victor didn't even flinch. He merely smirked as the walls around them shifted, seeming to come alive.

Steel hands erupted from the walls, reaching to trap Mason, to crush him. He kicked at them, sending bursts of flame against the steel, but they absorbed the impact, pressing him back. 

More hands appeared, surrounding him, while the floor itself seemed to bend and close around his legs, swallowing him whole. Desperation clawed at him as he struggled, realizing he was hopelessly outmatched.

Before the walls could tighten their grip, Rachel hurled herself between Mason and the steel hands, her body moving with a speed and grace that belied her injuries. She grabbed Mason and threw him back, saving him from the steel's grasp, but in doing so, she left herself vulnerable. The hands retaliated, slamming her to the ground with brutal force, pinning her in place.

Mason: Rachel!

He tried to lunge forward, but Victor merely watched with that same maddening smirk, raising a hand to control the writhing walls and forcing Mason back. Confusion twisted through Mason's mind. 

How was he doing this? How could he control everything around them?

Fueled by rage and desperation, Mason launched himself at the steel hands once more. But it still wasn't enough. The steel resisted, unyielding, and more hands began to close in, threatening to pin him down.

Despair clawed at Mason's heart, a weight pressing down on him as he struggled to keep up his flames. But then, he remembered something—the words of the Astral of Death, the entity that powered his flames.

I'm just the conduit, the real power comes from the Astral, but if I push… if I reach deeper and add some of my own energy…

He closed his eyes, focusing on the well of energy within him, pulling every last reserve of strength into the flames. He could feel his own life force seeping into the flames, pushing them to a level he'd never dared before.

Mason: Overdrive!

His shout echoed through the room as the flames erupted, burning hotter and fiercer than ever before, consuming the steel hands with a relentless, scorching power. The heat was unbearable, even for Mason, and he felt his body scream with the effort, teetering on the edge of collapse. But he pushed through, launching himself once more at the hands that held Rachel.

The flames shattered the steel, melting through it as Mason broke through, freeing her from the iron grip. He landed beside her, breathing heavily, the pain nearly overwhelming, but his gaze was locked onto Victor, his face twisted in determination.

Mason: I'm not forgiving you for this. 

But before he could act, Rachel grabbed his pant leg, her face pale and bloodied, a desperate plea in her eyes.

Rachel:... Please. Run. You can't win this. 

Mason looked at her, his anger wavering for just a moment as he took in her pleading expression. But then he turned back to Victor, scowling. He'd already made up his mind. 

I'm not leaving until this guy's dead.

Victor slowly took his hands out of his coat pocket. His amused smile faltered, his expression darkening as he looked at Mason with a sudden, chilling disgust. He clasped his hands together, the mockery in his voice sharpening into something cold and unforgiving.

Victor: Ignoring the words of the woman closest to you, all so you can keep that pretty, shiny image of yourself, this savior you've convinced yourself you are. What is it? Does the thought of being the brave knight, standing tall and untouchable, fill you with a little thrill?

He scoffed, the scorn in his eyes intensifying as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

Victor: You're nothing but a pig huh. Greed like yours?. You'd think it'd befit someone worth their weight in the world. But you— you're not worthy of the greed you carry. Not even close.

Victor's gaze bore into Mason, disdain woven into every word as he continued his tirade, his voice dripping with venomous amusement.

Victor: People like you, who overreach with empty hands, thinking they deserve… what? Respect? Admiration? What exactly do you think you've earned? That kind of ambition is reserved for people who stand above, who look down with justification.

He took a step forward, clasping his hands together. 

Victor: What a pathetic ambition…

Rachel's eyes went wide with horror as Victor's hands came together, purple energy radiating from his gaze. She screamed, her voice raw and desperate.

Rachel: Don't let him put his palms together! Move!

But it was too late. Victor's hands came together, and a pulse of energy rippled through the room, pushing Mason back. The force was immense, pressing him down with an intensity that nearly stole his breath. Victor pointed two fingers at Mason, as if they were guns.

Victor: Astral Awakening... Immediate Territory.

In an instant, agony exploded through Mason's chest, a searing, raw pain that tore through him without warning. His entire body convulsed, as though struck by an invisible force, and his mind lagged behind, struggling to make sense of the horror unfolding before him.

Slowly, his gaze traveled downwards, dread pooling in his stomach as he took in the sight—a gaping hole, brutally clean and disturbingly precise, piercing straight through the right side of his chest. It was as though someone had carved a tunnel through his flesh and bone, hollowing him out with clinical efficiency.

Blood poured from the wound, warm and thick, soaking his shirt in deep crimson. He staggered back, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he choked on the hot, metallic taste filling his mouth. The blood seeped out faster than he could comprehend, spilling over his fingers as he clutched at his chest, desperately trying to hold himself together, as if his hands alone could stop the unstoppable.

His knees buckled, and he felt himself swaying, the strength draining from his limbs with each pulsing heartbeat. The edges of his vision blurred, darkening, closing in as his brain scrambled to keep pace with the shock, the agony, the realization that his own body was betraying him, crumbling under the force of the wound. He could feel his breaths becoming shallower, ragged gasps that barely drew any air into his lungs, as if the very ability to breathe was slipping through his fingers.

Victor watched, satisfied, as Mason fought to remain standing, his body trembling from the shock and pain. Then, casually, he summoned more hands, directing them toward Mason with a flick of his wrist. The steel fingers reached for him, closing in, ready to crush him completely.

But before they could reach him, Rachel surged forward again, throwing herself between Mason and the impending steel, shielding him with her own battered body. The hands came crashing down on them both, and with the weight of the steel, the floor beneath them gave way, and they plummeted to the level below.

As they fell, Victor watched from above, a look of mild amusement lingering on his face.