Zane went most of the way up the icy slopes and looked back down. Mists shrouded the distance. From here, the Distortion Field was a stain on glassy waters. And silhouetted inside, that hulking castle of a shell.

  He looked around, took the measure of things, and nodded.

  He could see the beast rumbling with laughter. It thought it’d seen him off.

  Bit of a strange thing to think, he thought. It hadn’t even hit him that hard.

  Then he shrugged—he’d let that fellow think what it liked.

  He turned his mind to his task.

  The moment he set foot in that sinkhole it’d start hammering him. So he’d have to go in strong—and just keep building from there.

  He wanted to peak right as he got to the heart of the storm, right as he fell on the beast. He wanted full 300% power.

  It wasn’t something he could hold for very long.

  Usually he didn’t need to think much about essence. He was pretty confident he could last as long as he needed, usually—but this would test his limits.

  He started thinking about the charge. About the kind of force he’d have to throw at that thing.

  If he wanted to break through that Field he’d have to dredge up every stream of essence. Work his muscles near breaking.

  He’d have just one try at it, too. It was kill or be killed.

  Just the thought of it put a smile on Zane’s face.

  He’d gone all-out before, but not like this.

  Here he had time to build.

  The only thing limiting the destruction he could visit upon that beast was his own body and will. And those, he knew, could take a lot.

  There was something else on his mind, too, something he was quite curious about.

  After he’d snagged that overclock Level something strange took place in his body. He hadn’t felt it, back when he was fighting the Distortion Field. It was buried deep; he hadn’t gotten going, hadn’t gotten far enough to bring it out.

  But he felt it was there. Some latent potential—something unlocked, deep within. A new muscle waiting to be flexed.

  He hoped he’d get a chance to see it.

  One try.

  He switched out his axes decisively.

  Then he fixed his eyes on his foe, heart pounding, and pulled.

  ***

  The solar storm roared down the slopes. Chunks of stone and ice broke off, swirling up in tight funnels, going to gold. Feeding the beast.

  And there was Zane at the heart of it, bounding miles in a step. Molten gold rivers crashing all around him, scything through the snow, the stone, the sky.

  “TURTLE!” bellowed Zane.

  The fellow stared glass-eyed, blinking. He got the sense it hadn’t thought he’d come back for more—but the moment passed fast. It gave another snort. Smoke plumed from its nostrils.

  Then its gunk-cannons perked back up, and it growled. Zane got the message.

  It was happy to blast him to a pulp.

  But it was a very different Zane barreling down the slopes.

  Three miles off and he blazed straight into the lake—a lake evaporating at his feet. Those essence-rich waters going to mist; the mist going to fuel—

  His Asura State breached 200%, and nothing within a hundred miles could hold solid form anymore.

  Nothing except the Dead Sea King—who still squatted there, blinking in disbelief.

  ***

  It was the strangest human the King had ever seen.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The biggest of all the humans it’d seen. Merely an Ascendant. But bound with more muscles, more essence, than a herd of Minor God men. He smelled of Titan Rhinoceros—that blood pumped all through him. A strange Law burned through his being—it was merely Tier 5, yet streaked with a hideous white, a white that even the Fallen Mire could not slow.

  The Vitality was the strangest thing—that man was blazing with it. It pierced the King’s eyes, a hateful thing.

  This human had too much life. It made the King growl.

  But all that life could not save it in the throes of the Fallen Mire.

  He might be strange, but his body broke like any animal’s.

  He did not have it in him to trouble the Deep Sea King, it thought.

  Then he came down the mountain again.

  Something had changed in that man. So much essence surged out of him he felt like a great sea—it felt impossible for just one man.

  But the King did not worry. Surely the man would fade by the time he hit the shores.

  He did not.

  Instead, the man roared, and essence shot through his muscles, and that storm flared so high it torched deep into space. Eclipsing even the light of the glacier, dominating the whole of Lake Eternal—

  In that moment it made even the Mire look small.

  And at last the Deep-Sea King was forced to take him seriously.

  That, by itself, stunned the Monster.

  It was the Blood of the Colossus Turtle, who took blood from the Great Father himself!

  And it knew the secrets of the Fallen Mire. The Smotherer in the Cradle. The bane of life itself—all those hateful things; all that moved and breathed would slow here, slow until they ceased.

  It had smothered much stronger things than this overgrown man.

  A turgid calm settled over the King once more.

  It’d smashed him once. It’d smash him again.

  This time, it would not let him back up.

  The cannons took their places, loading blast after blast. Primed to blow.

  By now the man had gotten so close his vitality was blinding the King; the Monster could hardly make out anything else.

  With an angry rumble, it set to fire.

  ***

  One mile out and the roar of the Storm swallowed all. Its light swallowed all. His axes were flying so fast he could no longer count the revolutions.

  He crossed 220% power.

  That tar-wall loomed up ahead but he had no intention of slowing.

  He roared a battle-cry, and stomped.

  It could’ve been an attack unto itself—gold erupted at his feet, and he made one shining arc. A meteor of solid sunlight.

  He crashed straight into the tar.

  The drag was on him in an instant, that smothering dampening. A stuck-in-mud feeling that clung to body and Law alike.

  But this time he’d braced himself for it, and it could not stagger him.

  He barreled into the thick of it.

  ***

  Rhinos were hopping up and down all along the camp.

  The Barbarian Sage leaped to his feet, pumped a fist high—“CHAAAAAARGE!” he roared.

  ***

  The turtle hunkered in.

  It started blasting him the moment he waded in. That was what it’d been counting on, Zane knew—it’d been waiting for the moment it could do the most damage. When its powers could ride that Field, in point-blank range.

  Cannonballs screamed toward him. Wrecking-balls of the stuff. Pillars lanced out from thicker steel tubes, flooding his storm with waste—an even heavier flood than the one that’d sent him flying last time.

  And this time there was no dodging.

  That suited him just fine.

  He just forced in yet more essence, teeth gritted—and now his body was running at heats that would’ve evaporated any human long ago. It strained even the physique of a Titan Rhino. Yet his storm grew so bright you could hardly make out the tar, could hardly tell it’d slowed at all.

  His axes cleaved clean through a string of cannonballs, glazing their innards with sunlight. He bellowed, and crashed right through.

  He was just crossing 240% power when the bulk of the blast rammed into him.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

  ****

  There was high-end participation in the Rhino camp, a great deal of nervousness—by Rhino standards, at least. Lots of blinking. All they could see was the storm. Zane’s rage incarnate.

  They saw the blasts hit—they saw the storm wobble, and sputter, and for a second it looked like it might veer off the path.

  But that second passed. It righted itself again. And they caught a glimpse of the man within.

  Zane’s face was bloodied. Nose broken. Bruises ran down his chest, his arms, peeking out between splotches of tar. Gobs of the stuff clung to his legs, clutching at him, trying to slow him.

  But if that was meant to get him off the warpath… It wasn’t even close.

  He looked a little busted up—but somehow his Asura was burning as fierce as ever. Even fiercer, like getting smashed up only made him stronger.

  When he roared, the Rhinos roared with him.

  “Come on, lad!” roared the Sage. “Bring it home!”

  The curd-munching continued.

  ***

  He was nearing the heart of the Distortion Field. Each step became its own battle. This close the tar was at its densest, its fullest—and it took a toll. His heart had to fight just to keep beating. He was fighting something as immense as any gravity—it was hardly even a force, more like a rule written into this reality itself; invisible, but no less devastating.

  Still, Zane refused to stop. Not when he was so close.

  He was quickly crossing 280% power. Just a few bounds from sinking his axes in the beast. He could feel his body struggling to hold all that essence output—feel his essence starting to drain—but an eclipse was crossing Lake Eternal. Sun-gold, blotting out tar-black…

  If the turtle hadn’t woken up to the trouble it was in before, it was well aware now.

  It loaded its cannons, mouths swerving sloppily in their haste, and fired another wave at point-blank range.

  His head snapped back. Blood sprayed from his mouth; teeth went flying. It shattered ribs, broke a thigh-bone.

  Warning!

  Health under 50%

  This deep in, every blast hit like a truck.

  But in that moment Zane had worked up such a heat none of it mattered. He was beyond pain, beyond damage.

  His eyes were going bloody-red. The runes on his body were like a second storm, a storm of blood searing down his body, nearly as bright as the gold. And even as his bones shattered, his muscles worked harder, pumped so full they strained against his skin—

  290%—

  295%—

  When he roared he sounded like an army unto himself.

  300% power.

  He caught fire, went up in a blaze of blood and gold.

  Desperately the Turtle reloaded, but it was too late. They all knew what was coming.

  It gave a howl. Its head shrunk deep into its shell—

  He leaped one last time, and smashed.