Disregard

The golden-armored Exemplar, Timathol, was about to toss another ball of energy when he noticed the man walking boldly toward him, completely ignoring the surging troops covered in silver armor that were striking down the city's citizens left and right. He lowered his hand. His senses told him this masked man was an Exemplar, and as such someone not to be taken lightly.

"I was told there were three Exemplars in this city," Timathol said, "and you do not fit the description of any of them. Tell me your name, so I may know whom I killed."

The masked man laughed, eliciting a frown from Timathol. "I'm no one important," the man said. "But if you throw that ball at me, I'll be your end."

"Quite arrogant for a no-name who's about to die," Timathol replied, launching his ball of energy at the…

What was he doing?

Timathol looked around in confusion. His eyes alighted on the hole in a building at the end of the street, eaten away by his Manifestation. The hole was steadily growing, the wall slowly caving in on itself. Why had he used his Manifestation on a harmless building?

"Dangerous-looking stuff," said a voice behind him.

Timathol whirled around, slashing his sword. A man in a black mask ducked underneath the swing. When his gaze found the man, whose eyes were narrowed as if he was smiling, Timathol suddenly remembered why he had used his Manifestation.

Annoyed at such trickery, Timathol coated his hand in his Manifestation's energy and reached toward the man.

'This guy's moves are so obvious,' Fate thought to himself. 'Guess he isn't used to someone being too close for a sword.'

Of course, the truth was that Timathol had rarely ever needed his sword; in nearly every battle he fought, his Manifestation was more than enough to finish the fight. Couple that with the fact that Fate had years of experience in life-or-death combat situations, while the crusader rarely had to take fights seriously, and it was like pitting a child against a tiger.

Even though Fate was confident he could escape this battle unscathed, it was never smart to underestimate an Embodiment. He made sure to keep a decent birth from the man's energy-cloaked hand, remembering what it did to that noble not even a minute ago. As the hand passed a few inches from his face, Fate felt a twinge in his gut.

This Manifestation had properties similar to his own.

Fate contemplated that as he rose from his crouch, punching the armored man in his handsome face. The man staggered back, instinctively covering his nose with his energy-covered hand, stemming the tide of blood now gushing from his nose. 'So, he's immune to it. Figured.'

Fate thought about his strange epiphany as he advanced. 'Considering that he's sapping energy from things, maybe Greed?' He watched Timathol grab the shoulder of a fleeing civilian, his Manifestation surging and rendering the poor bystander to dust. At the same time, Timathol's nose completely healed, his cheeks growing a tinge rosier. 'Hm. Maybe not. Ah, I know!'

The man swung his sword at Fate once more, and Fate sidestepped and twisted to avoid it. He noticed a grin of triumph on the man's face. Due to Fate's action, he was only a few inches from the Timathol. The man dropped his sword and reached out with both hands, aiming for a Manifestation-fueled bear hug.

Fate's skin tingled slightly as he pushed himself into his Prodigy power, vanishing from the eyes of the world. Of course, the hug still trapped him, but since he was effectively gone, the energy of Timathol's Manifestation washed over him harmlessly. As it did, Fate found that his hunch was correct.

Timathol's Manifestation was one of Envy.

That's why it seemed somewhat similar to Fate's Negativity Manifestation. What was Envy, if not something inherently negative? But this revelation opened Fate's eyes to another, perhaps more important one: even negative actions can have positive consequences, and vice-versa was also true.

Take his ability, for example. His ability allowed him to effectively stop existing in the minds of living things. While obviously negative for them, it was nothing but positive for him. For another example, Timathol's ability stole the strength of others to fuel himself.

Both parts of this were bad in the views of his enemies, but how could they be anything but a boon to himself? This showed Fate that positivity and negativity were entangled. They weren't just two sides of the same coin, they were each on both sides, one stamped on top of the other.

With this bit of enlightenment, Fate felt his Manifestation strengthen, surging upward in power only to stop just shy of the Level of Avatar. Suddenly, not only was he gone from the perception of others, he was gone entirely, the arms of Timathol passing through him as if he wasn't even there.

'Strange. I shouldn't get another effect from my Prodigy ability until I advance to the Avatar Level. Oh well, no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth."

Fate, now intangible, reached into Timathol's chest, grasping at the man's heart. With a thought, he was tangible once more, the blonde man's armor shrieking as it deformed to make way for Fate's forearm and the sickening cracking of bones and tearing of flesh reaching everyone's ears as Timathol's chest did the same. In but a moment, there was a hole in the crusader's chest, the fleshy edges wrapped snugly around Fate's hand like a glove.

Fate looked Timathol in the eyes, finding pure fear and a deep unwillingness.

Then he pulled.

Timathol's heart came out with such ease, Fate felt like he had simply plucked a soda from a fridge. The blood that was now freed gushed out like a waterfall, spraying Fate from head to waist in crimson. He stood there, bloody, beating heart in hand, and watched Timathol fall to his knees, then to his side, the man's eyes glaring hatefully at Fate even as his spirit entered the void.

The silver-clad soldiers around him stopped their slaughter, staring at Fate as if he was a monster summoned from nightmares. Fate returned their stare, dropping the heart and stomping on it, smooshing it like a grape. Blood splattered as if it was some kind of fleshy water balloon, splattering on the stone road.

Fate strode toward the nearest soldier, ready to continue the carnage. He was completely unaware that he had stumbled upon the infant stages of one of the most powerful aspects of his Manifestation: disregard for the rules the other, lesser Manifestations adhered to.