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Threat Level Zero: A Tale of Ascension

At the dawn of time, nine unique races were birthed from the ashes of all that used to be. The Nephilim was one of these nine races, and as their line was wont to do, bred with the other eight, until the bloodlines of the others were too watered down to utilize their Fragments of Creation. The Nephilim, now the humans, gained these powers, with certain lineages holding the potential to birth Manifestations. The descendants of the other species still have dominion over the Fragments of their ancestors, but unlocking this power is the work of millennia. All of them have the potential to return to the greatness of their ancestors, but only humans, the innovative creatures that they are, can become more. This story follows Fate, an assassin taken from his home as a child and subjected to sick experiments that awakened his Manifestation. With a new family, he aims to wipe the organization that subjected him to such treatment from the face of reality. But the Advanced have other plans.

Lolbroman25 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
341 Chs

Even

Fighting a psychopathic man viewed as a god by those he rules while almost fully naked was definitely NOT on Fate's bucket list, and yet here he was. Fate learned quickly that every hit he managed to land on Gregovich dealt at least half of the damage it should.

Seconds into the battle, Fate had disarmed him and tossed the knife into a corner so neither could use it. It wouldn't have helped him anyway. Now they were reduced to slugging each other like they were in a boxing match, only each one was doing hardly any damage.

Due to Gregovich's new damage-halving ability – no doubt stemming from his rise to Personification, as every Personification's body was colored by their Manifestation and thus gained new traits – Fate's Divine Grasp-enhanced punches were doing as much as well-trained mortal's, which did effectively nothing to the Manifestation-strengthened physique. Likewise, Gregovich's attack landed on empty air every time, completely unable to hurt Fate.

Fate's aura prevented the Personification from using his Manifest Power offensively, while also eating away at any attempt to use Divine Reach. Meanwhile, Fate's Divine Grasp was a stage or two below Gregovich's, rendering his Grasp ineffective as well.

Which is why they were punching each other silly, waiting for the other one to tire out.

Gregovich by no means could be considered physically fit. He was tall and lanky, with no visible muscle, and was too used to willing things to move with his Divine Reach. However, the body strengthening of the Personification Level got rid of his earlier weaknesses, bringing his stamina and strength to superhuman levels.

Fate, on the other hand, was a trained assassin, with experience in long, drawn-out fights like this. Even if they never cropped up as much, he went through the exact same training as the other members of Styx, to prepare for any eventuality they could imagine at the time, giving him enough stamina to last for a few hours of nonstop exertion.

The difference between the two, and the deciding factor, was Fate's intangibility.

He used to fight Autumn regularly to gain experience in fighting those physically stronger than him. He knew how to exhaust the opponent, how to whittle them down while staying relatively fresh.

It used to be that he did this with minimal-effort dodges but now could simply disregard the opponent's attack entirely. And while his attacks didn't seem to do much, he was still hurting the other Embodiment, all while he was just fine. He just needed to regulate his punches so as not to tire himself out.

Which is why, two hours later, Gregovich sank to his knees, gasping for air, covered in bruises, and looking up at Fate with a formidable amount of hatred. His Divine Energy was spent, almost completely gone from the effort of halving the damage from Fate's attacks and forcing his own attacks to hit their mark.

Both would normally take an insignificant amount, but Gregovich had whaled on Fate relentlessly, tossing out dozens of punches a minute with no slowing down. He probably thought he could exhaust Fate's store of Divine Energy powering the latter's intangibility before his own gave out.

What Gregovich had little way of knowing was that Fate had learned a new trick halfway through the battle, switching to tangible in between every punch to conserve his Energy. He got hit a few times in the face during his trial and error, which was why his left eye's blackness was tinted with red and closed halfway, but he mastered the technique swiftly, tripling the time he could keep his intangibility up.

Fate was breathing heavily, but was otherwise fine. He glared down at the other man, debating on whether to kill him now or beat some information out of him. Then he remembered the treasure trove of books and scrolls hidden in the Personification's bedroom cabinet and made his decision.

He placed his hands on either side of Gregovich's head. The latter sneered, spitting between bloodied gums and a few missing teeth. "We'll come for you."

"I know. I'm waiting for it." Fate squeezed with his Divine Grasp, Gregovich's sneer turning to a grimace as he used the last dregs of his Divine Energy to push back. As weary as he was, Gregovich lasted only ten seconds before he was out of Energy, Fate's Divine Grasp rushing forth and seizing his head.

Fate twisted.

The man's neck spun 180 degrees, the anger and hatred in his gaze now directed at the large dining room window, and the people outside, in his final moments.

Fate dropped the corpse when he felt the man's aura fading. He grabbed a new knife off of the table and knelt down, picking the dead man's head up by the hair and moving to cut it off at the throat. He pressed the knife against the corpse's throat and sliced. And missed.

Fate instantly threw up his guard, monitoring the Personification with all of his senses, physical and divine, to check for any signs of life. He sighed in relief when he found none. His search was not entirely fruitless, though, as he found the source of his blunder.

'So, the old bastard still had some left. Look like he was smart enough to stop fighting. Guess his corpse IS still technically a Manifestation-enhanced body, so I guess what just happened was similar to a chicken running around after you cut its head off, the remaining Divine Energy funneling into his Manifest Power. Welp, now the gross part.'

He put the knife to the man's throat and sliced once more. And he missed again. And again. He let out a groan of frustration, pursing his lips as he emptied the man's Divine Energy reserves by stabbing his chest repeatedly.

When the knife finally sunk in, he brought it out, wiped the blood on the man's overcoat, and decapitated the corpse after a substantial amount of sawing with the dull blade.

He tore a large chunk of the overcoat off and wrapped the head in it, slinging it over his shoulder like a sack of toys from a demented Santa. Then he moved to the hallways, intent on finding his clothes.