Chapter 117: Daken, Son of Wolverine

Watching Daken burn in his throne did nothing for Bronte….

It should've been perfect. The ideal moment of catharsis. He moved on his terms. He demanded victory— so he forced himself into a new direction to avoid the same defeat.

It wasn't Romulus ripping into his home.

It was him. He was the aggressor. The activating element.

And still.

It didn't bring back Raze. It didn't bring back Laura…. Or his arm…. Or Gabbie's wounds both to her mind and body.

All he could do now was prevent things from going worse.

He rushed Daken.

Light flashed from black skies. The impact was like a bomb of wild heat and power, sending Bronte flipping backward a dozen times before he jammed his claws into the earth to slow himself.

Raking fissures of superheated tears marred his Vibranium-weave suit where the lightning overpowered him.

He felt betrayed. But that wasn't right as he sized up the axe wielding brute. He'd just met another user of the elements.

Daken had only just begun to get out of his throne as his bodyguard puffed out his chest.

"I AM PERUN, GOD OF THUNDER AND WAR! FACE M—"

Bronte took off in an explosion of wind and front kicked the god before he could finish speaking, sending him smashing into Daken.

The throne crumpled underneath their weight as they went rolling through the molten metal puddles and steaming scrap piles.

The surrounding Vampire horde descended. Brontë roared a torrent of frosted winds all around him before bursting into flames so hot, the winds around him distorted and turned into tornadoes.

Bronte flew for Daken as he lay in front of him only for a shape to explode from the shadows below and tackle him into the clouds.

The two rolled through the air, bitting and clawing at each-other like animals before Bronte called to the lightning and lit up the black shape.

It laughed. Brontë raged and head butted the horned monster.

As it flew closer to the edge of the earths atmosphere, Bronte blasted the thing with a focused stream of fire.

"HAHAHA! The spark grows into a true flame before our eyes! Varkis spoke highly of you!" Chernobog dove through the flame and punched Bronte back down to earth. "But I'm still skeptical…."

He landed in the eye of tornado only for it to be split as an axe came flipping through and sunk into his chest.

He stumbled back into a giant with skeletal wings, sabered fangs and purple skin.

Before the creature could react, he spit a lightning bolt through its head and ripped the axe out of his chest.

As the beheaded giant fell to its knees, he threw the axe with every muscle available in his body.

The weapon spun, cleaving through the horde north of him as they pushed closer from every other side.

He took to the skies. A solitary beacon of light as flames surrounded him entirely. The Vampires took the bait, assuming their bat forms just as Brontë expanded the tornadoes, swallowing up the creatures in fire and wind. Crushing their bones. Causing chaos.

Daken ran through the horde, stumbling over piles of ash and collapsing rubble.

"You don't honor us. You look away as if you can afford it." Perun flew beside him with his axe in hand.

"We'll peel that armor off of you in no time….. then you fight to the death…..or run to the death. Don't run." Chernobog walked on the darkness surrounding them like it was a physical force only he could press his weight on.

"So this is how Daken planned to deal with me." Bronte thought. "I can take them…. But I can't draw this out."

The two Slavic dieties lunged for him.

A bolt of lightning fell from a cloud collected over Bronte.

He teleported out of the way as the two crashed into each-other hard enough to split the clouds overhead.

Brontë reappeared behind Daken. He rammed his claws through his shoulder from behind. Mend sent a devastating pulse of wind down Bronte's arm, causing Daken's own arm to be blown off at the shoulder.

Along with half of his face.

He could hear the gods ripping at eachother to reach Bronte from the skies. In a rush, he pulled the moisture from the air and encased Daken in ice as he lay healing in the dirt.

Before he could even finish the two gods crashed into him.

The three of them went rolling through the cracked earth and skipping across lakes before sinking.

In the darkness, Chernobog thrived, ripping into Bronte with giant hands and endless mouthes.

In the midst of all the chaos, Vampiric Sharks slithered through the blue.

One ate Bronte whole. It's flexing insides crushed and twisted against Bronte before his Vibranium-weave suit had enough and blew up the creature from the inside.

In the chaos he could see Perun calling to the collecting storm clouds above the lake.

Bronte manipulated the water, shaping the entirety of the lake into a swirling massive ball of fluids.

Chernobog laughed as he swam around inside, unaware of well… everything.

Brontë threw the ball of water at Perun. He felt his brain cringe from the effort it took.

"HAH! YOU CHALLENGE ME WITH A TEARDROP?" Perun bellowed and sent a focused stream of blinding lightning into the massive water ball.

The heat evaporated it in a flash, leaving Chernobog to take the brunt of the blast.

For once the shadowy beast wasn't laughing. Brontë kept that in mind as the Vampires swarmed him in the emptied lake.

He slashed and swatted at the Vampire-Hybrids. He spit flames and spun winds but their numbers continued to spill in like a flood until Bronte was fully submerged.

They were tearing away his suit. Stomping out his hands to try and break his claws. To take his weapons. To take his chance—

Brontë bit his lip until he swallowed a chunk of it. His blood ran hot, bubbling on his fiery skin.

Aimlessly, he spit his magical essence at the bubbling horde.

One by one, Vampires exploded as they consumed his blood and failed to digest a bloodline that predated their own magic.

It lit up the dark battlegrounds like brilliant multicolored fireworks.

Brontë climbed out of the ash and rubble. Half of his mask ripped away along with portions of his suit around the leg and arms.

Despite his healed physical form, the mental toll was growing.

Perun and Chernobog stood in the distance. No worse for wear aside from Perun's chipped armor and Chernobog left with a glowing scar on his chest and face. Somehow it only made them look scarier.

Bronte exhaled a puff of blue flames.

"Fuck…"

They began walking.

"Fuck…."

Their steps collapsed barely standing towers in the distance.

"Fuck…"

Daken was breaking out of the ice. Continuing to play coward.

He could finish it. But they were in the way.

"FUCK!"

The blue flames surrounded him in an elemental second skin. He pulled all the tornadoes to the twin gods.

They swatted them away and cleaved them to dust as they met Bronte's charge.

There was no more room for jokes. No more gloating and boasting like characters out of a children's book. They suddenly looked like the titans they were.

Death loomed.

Chernobog was wounded. He was the closest to the reaper.

Even still, parts of them radiated with excitement.

Bronte reached for Chernobog. The god fell into the shadows cast by the toppled stones as if they were puddles.

Perun filled in the empty space, smashing the flat of his axe across Bronte's face.

Four of Bronte's teeth flew from his mouth. As he was knocked back by the blow, he aimed his Symbiote hand at Perun's face. Barely a foot from his jaw.

Mend sent his greatest pulse of wind down the arm.

It came like lightning. Stillness, followed by a flash of blue so bright and disorienting both Bronte and Perun were blinded as a series of explosive flaming blue rings rippled across the field.

Perun was knocked off his feet.

The two went their separate ways, rolling like tumbleweeds.

"Unc….. I don't think we can take them." Mend's voice breached Bronte's mind as his busted eardrums healed themselves slowly. Causing him to wobble back to his feet.

"Bronte—"

"I can get Chernobog. He's playing different— he flinched." Bronte was burning through the floor he stood on.

Perun got up with a grunt. Half of his golden beard was seared off and his cape lay in blue flames.

"Bronte, can you survive?" Mend questioned seriously.

"I'm straight."

Suddenly, his Symbiote arm evaporated. Not that they could tell, he forced the flames to maintain shape.

He couldn't show any weaknesses.

Speaking of weaknesses.

Perun struck like lightning. His axe split the earth forty feet deep. A mushroom cloud of debris bloomed and sent Vampires flying.

Brontë flew towards the clouds. He could hear Chernobog in the dark. Waiting for a chance to strike.

"Don't run, little spark!" Perun called to the lightning churning in the clouds.

Brontë reached for the blast. His shoulder popped as he caught the bolt. The heat and power made his hand go numb— rupturing his focus, causing it to lose shape and fray like glowing threads.

But he held on, focusing his control over the elements until he held the lightning in his hands like a spear.

Immediately, he spun around to face his lurking assassin and threw the lightning spear.

In a blast of light, the bolt of enflamed energy ripped through Chernobog's already charred chest.

The god stumbled at the violent suddenness of it all. The gaping hole in its chest cracked and split around the edges like glass.

"H-….Hot…." Chernobog blew away in the wind as shadowy dust…. No more than a fading essence on a growing battlefield.

If there was a time to celebrate— or catch a break, it ended before it even came as Perun tackled Bronte to the ground.

"You got the boogey-man! Now you must stop running!" Perun hit the floor with Bronte, smashing a handful of vampires from their combined weight.

They rolled.

Perun gained top-mount and began hammering away at Bronte's face. Every punch shattered his jaw…... Fractured his orbital bone…... Knocked his nose so deep into his face it poked his brain.

All the while Bronte stabbed at Perun's midsection, ripping away at where his armor was weakest. But he wasn't fast enough— he wasn't durable enough to stop fading out of consciousness every-time Perun battered his brain against his skull hard enough to splatter.

It must've happened eight times.

Sometimes he'd come back seeing colors differently.

He just kept swinging.

He kept saying his name.

"OK! I'm back!" Mend's voice sounded like it was under water.

He took over Bronte's body, wrapping tendrils around Perun's throat.

"Enjoy a beautiful dream, dickhead!" Gaseous fumes burst from holes in the Symbiote skin, slithering into Perun's nose as he continued to wail on Bronte.

Slowly, the punches faded.

Perun sat up, delirious and incoherent as he began to laugh.

Bronte kicked Perun off of him and got to his feet.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I found a Morlock-Vampire with the ability to make people hallucinate through a bio-organic psychedelic. Now WE can make people hallucinate through a bio-organic psychedelic…. Haha. I'm a genius." Mend replied.

"I didn't know you could do that. Nice."

The horde of Vampires were growing. Miles upon miles away. The first few waves were still spinning inside tornadoes and healing past flames.

Brontë wasted no time and teleported to Daken.

He got a hand out of the ice.

Brontë ripped it off before stomping apart the ice and pulling Daken out.

"OK! OK! Please!"

Bronte's insides twisted. Bile rose up in his throat as he eyed his brother.

"Are you serious? Please?"

Daken even started to cry.

"P—p—please….. don't look behind you."

He felt the wind.

Then he saw a shape skidding to a halt in front of him. A tall, titanous thing. At least seven feet tall. No shoes, no shirt. Just a pair of leather pants. Massive bat-like wings unfurled from his back. His hair had grown. It hung down to his stomach like curtains. His skin was so dark the tattoos were almost invisible. A third eye opened on his forehead at the spilling of his blood. But Bronte knew him.

Daken sheathed his blade. Brontë felt his stomach burn from where the blade cut deep. He couldn't tell if his kidney was just trashed or if he wasn't used to permanent damage.

Not a good sign either way. Thankfully Mend was known for his namesake.

Bronte dropped the fake. It shifted into a gray skinned androgynous thing, smiling— laughing like they'd just revealed a great prank.

"Thank you for your service, Morph."

The Vampires descended on their own.

"NO! WAIAAHHHHH!!!"

Brontë and Daken held each others gaze as the Vampires festered like rats.

When they dispersed there was no body there.

"Morph was never actually a Vampire. But I gave them the most of my blood…. And for all the brainwashing I could do, I couldn't ignore that Morph is just like you."

Brontë had nothing to say.

"You still don't get it. How? Brontë when Romulus came to kill us, who else was trying to kill us? Regular men and women! There is a clear flaw in this way of life. These systems aren't for us. You're fighting against me leveling the playing field for our brothers and sisters."

Bronte's eye twitched as he listened to Daken try to paint everything as an act of compassion. He was trying to goad him into attacking.

Daken was always smart. He could read a room better than anyone. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. The demeanor he forcibly put on faded.

"You killed two gods today, Bronte. Do you think you have three in you?"

"I got as many as it takes."

"With my numbers? You still dream, ragdoll." Daken referred scoffed.

They both moved—

A portal the size of a small house opened suddenly.

Every Mutant he'd ever seen stepped through, backed by Spider-Man and the Midnight Suns.

Daken grimaced. "More numbers then."

Suddenly he understood why Red Guardian went insane.