12 Miles Below

To’Avalis realized immediately what had happened. The virus. It had been planted by To’Wrathh within Keith’s armor. Of course she had modified it.

While his digital avatar remained skewered through the chest, his physical shell’s mind raced through his system to find where the intrusion had come from.

Several ports were open. And broadcasting directly to a predetermined address. To’Wrathh had followed the currents across the digital sea, until she reached the open door left where she knew it would be.

Her virus couldn’t fight him within the digital sea. But she could.

“You seem to be in a dangerous predicament.” To’Wrathh said, using her heel to pry him off her blade, and shove him into the ground under her. “As I’ve come to learn about myself, I am very possessive. You’ve attempted to kill my human. No one kills my human.”

He gurgled an answer, still reeling at the pain in his chest. Despite the pain, he fought through. If To’Wrathh was here, she was after one thing.

He opened up a slew of files and historical data. Finding the sections he needed, narrowing down and then overwriting the specific bytes of data. He wouldn’t know where Keith was after this either. The coordinates lost to both of them.

But so long as To’Wrathh couldn’t find them, that was all that mattered.

“It’s all gone.” He snarled. “You are too late.”

To’Wrathh gave a dark chuckle. “I have a small story to share with you. In my original battles with Winterscars, I found that they would continuously beat me back the moment I underestimated them. It came to a point where I created an alarm that would ring each time I began to underestimate my opponents - specifically Winterscars. Out of all the additions I’ve made, that alarm remains the most accurate warning sign of impending failure.”

“Your inane ramblings only prove how broken you are, dear little sister.” He spat back with as much venom as he had. “I’ll have my vengeance for what you did to me, one way or another.”

“But my ramblings do matter.” Her boot slammed into his side, sending him flying off into the wallside, where he found himself skewered again by her blade before he could so much as fumble back down on his knees.

She drove the blade deeper into his chest, drawing closer to him. Violet eyes made contact with violet eyes.

And then one pair turned deep, scarlet red.

“Because, dear elder brother, you really shouldn’t underestimate me. I am a Winterscar.”

His comms system was overtaken that same moment, a single message leaving his infected systems, outwards - to the comms chat of his team: “Mother’s made contact with me just now. The event was… unpleasant.”

The voice was his own. Generated from the same system that generated all his speech and cadence.

To’Sefit laughed, “My, my. I was wondering why you were so quiet. Too busy with your schemes again? Our pest problem has evolved a pair of wings just now, if you’ve noticed.”

“I am aware. To’Orda, calculate where the Winterscar went flying off to. And relay the coordinates to me, in detail. I have matters to attend to.”

To’Orda returned a deep groan. “Do it yourself.”

To’Avalis felt a surge of hope. His systems were winning the fight, albeit slowly. He would recover enough to at least warn his team of the infection. To’Orda was notoriously stubborn. Even outright muting the channels occasionally. The insubordination might save this entire operation.

To’Wrathh tapped her chin, thinking. Watching To’Avalis with a sidewards eye. His avatar was fading, the concept of damage too real to shake off.

Another message left from his infected comms systems. “No. You’ll do it for me, or else I’ll assign you more work. Know your place, minion.”

“Nnn… going.” To’Orda returned with a grumpy annoyed image, along with a string of data.

The threat of more work had been enough.

To’Avalis struggled against the wall, trying to force his avatar back into action, incoherent rage the likes of which he’d never felt before seizing through his mind. In moments, the emotion passed, but its echo remained deep within like an ember.

The whiplash felt utterly alien once it had passed. All these defeats were causing damage to his mental state. Calculated defeat was expected and planned for, he felt no emotions during retreats against Deathless teams.

But nothing about this human and his malfunctioning guardian junk had gone to predictions.

Why each defeat felt as if his very identity was being eroded away instead of simply a matter of recalculation didn’t make sense.

But right now, as he helplessly watched his own team give To’Wrathh the exact coordinates of the Winterscar - down to the possible landing positions - it felt like the world’s greatest insult.

Everything To’Avalis had been trying to hide. All sent without a single care in the world.

“Thank you very much.” His own voice came back, pleasant and content over the comms.

Deep within his recovering systems, To’Avalis felt his head bow down in defeat. “Enjoy the victory while you can.” He hissed out, “I’ve already cleared off enough of this filth to survive the assault. I’ll live, and I will make you pay for this embarrassment.”

“I am well aware you will make the attempt.” To’Wrathh said. “It is immaterial. I have what I want. Let’s see what else I can break while I’m here. It’s not enough to win, I have to make sure you lose.”

She cut him in half. The blade cleaved out of his shoulder before racing back to cut off his head.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The soul connection ended, and To’Avalis awakened back in his physical body. Where he’d left it, slowly repairing the damages.

He dove into his analytics, and found that the virus was now taking ground it had no direct access to. It was almost like wildfire, passcodes changing in seconds, security alerts being squashed, error messages of unexpected commands no longer working - everything was going wrong.

To’Wrathh. She was wiping out his defenses from the inside out, giving her virus access to the rest of his exposed systems. Going on an absolute unhinged rampage.

With a pained groan he dove back through the soul fractal and back into the digital sea of his mind.

A new avatar opened its eyes, and To’Avalis went sprinting through his world. Instinct telling him exactly where she was breaking down his walls.

She was there waiting for him. And this time there wasn’t the element of surprise to help her.

“Three point two seconds.” She said, flicking her blade through one of the blue tendrils. “Your recovery rate is abysmally slow. Keith would run circles around you.”

“I lack the ability to calculate success rates within the digital sea, however I am certain you will be a dead woman within the minute.” He hissed under his breath.

She raised an eyebrow, then drew one blade into position. “I won’t die easily.”

“I would feel insulted if you did.” He spat back, taking a step forward.

She raised one hand, as if to ask for a halt. “Before we begin, I do have one last thing I was waiting for you to witness in person. As my human would describe it: necessary dramatics.”

To’Avalis frowned, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. The comms systems were once more taken, and his voice came out to the group chat. “I’ve calculated an improved correction to the current plan. Included are the maps, and contact information for this next phase. Check the attachment being sent.”

Horror overtook him. To'Wrathh had sent a file to his team. Cool and collected rage flowed after his initial fear. “It won’t work, the viral weapon took me by surprise and it wasn’t enough to kill me. To’Sefit and To’Orda equally won’t die from that.”

To’Sefit surely wouldn’t perish. She’s clever enough to know the only real way to fight this threat off was to use the occult. He wasn’t completely certain about To’Orda.

“Is this a belated joke of some kind?” To’Sefit asked. “An image of our wayward sister laughing like a loon is hardly any kind of plan.”

To’Orda answered back with an animated image of his own. Folded arms across his chest, and a raised eyebrow pointed at To’Wrathh’s avatar on the separate chat channel. “Nnn… I’m not opening that file.” He said, in a rare complete message.

“Were you waiting for me to spoon feed you To’Avalis’s plan?" To'Sefit asked. "My, my, To'Orda, your laziness is truly spectacular.”

“He talks too much.” To’Orda answered back.

“Hmm... I suppose that is fair.” To’Sefit sent a shrugging image of herself, with a slight sigh at the end. “Nothing to do about it, after all. So, To’Avalis, care to explain what this is about?”

Deep in the halls of his mind, To’Avalis sputtered. “You didn’t infect them?”

“Did I? Or did I not?” To’Wrathh hummed. “I suppose you’ll never know for certain. Look forward to the next few months of paranoia.”

To’Avalis had enough of this farce and charged forward with a wordless cry. She’d caused enough chaos in his systems, his life, and mental health.

He’d studied her combat techniques from what recorded video footage he had. And in his research, he’d found the style was copied from humans. Surface humans who’d specialized in killing each other.

The techniques were highly efficient. However, they were never made to fight against a whip. He predicted his chances of success against her were quite high.

To’Wrathh improvised, using her blades as both shield and weapon. Her wings let her accelerate and turn on her heels faster than should be possible, and such a concept followed her into the digital sea. She had advantages none of the surface humans could have.

But an occult whip was too different of a weapon to deal with.

He kept her at a distance, deciding a quick kill wasn’t an efficient use of time despite his earlier boast. Frankly, he wasn’t sure why he’d boasted in the first place. The cool focus of combat washed away the surprising amount of panic and emotions he’d been feeling unnoticed up to now.

So long as To’Wrathh was tied up fighting him, she couldn’t break more of his mind. His viral defenses were slowly emerging victorious.

His chain swung down into the ground, interrupting her attempted charge, then he flicked it upwards, nearly catching her chin. A spin on his body forced the whip to twist around in a wide arc, forcing the enemy Feather to take flight, jumping above the kill zone.

His free hand grabbed the chain, guiding the mace tip of the weapon to collide against a wall and bounce off with far more speed than it should have. Part of it slammed into To’Wrathh, knocking her out of the air and into the side. She recovered, attempting another charge forward, which he once more interrupted by slamming the mace into the ground before her.

All he had to do was keep her at a distance, and soon she’d be dead without a single chance to fight back. He felt in control again. Calculations bloomed in his mind as he prepared contingencies, locations to fall back to, preparations to extend and exhaust To’Wrathh before the kill stroke.

What a safe, generic, and utterly uninspired plan. A voice whispered with disgust in his ear. Have you no pride at all?

He twisted around, a dagger in his free hand thrusting out to attack nothing. The voice was right there. And nothing was over his shoulder.

Some kind of audio hallucination by To’Wrathh?

She took the opportunity to finally complete a charge. To’Avalis spun around, drawing his dagger back from the lunge and using it to parry her quick thrust. She followed up with multiple strikes and jabs, attempting to weave past his defenses.

No choice. He dug deeper into his pilfered combat techniques. One moment, he was To’Avalis fighting with a dagger and whip. The next instant, he was A12, a protofeather wielding his personal weapon of war. He’d tapped into this knowledge only once so far, against the human on the bridge, and despite the pest having an entire army of spectral wraiths all attacking from every side imaginable, he survived.

To’Wrathh was beaten back in moments. A few months of experience had no chance against him. His attacks were fluid, reckless, intentional.

His whip caught one of her thrusts directly through an occult link, and with a twirl, he forced her footwork to spin with him, his dagger slicing through her other arm’s bicep as he passed by.

They slammed back to back, the chain tightened, forcing her own blade up against her throat.

She turned it off an instant before it cut into her throat open. He did the same with his own whip, no longer needing all the links to be powered.

A clang of her other sword striking the ground sounded as her free hand went limp, the cut across her arm too precise.

The battle was over in every other regard. He had her pinned, and both his arms working with optimal leverage to restrain her. She had no leverage at all, and no means to contend against him.

“That was far longer than a minute, To’Avalis.” She said. “Consider me disappointed.”

“I see you’ve kept that new backbone of yours.” He hissed, contracting the unpowered chains, “Go on, what parting insult before dying have you concocted?” The dead blade at her throat dug into her white skin, failing to puncture or break through.

“Glad you asked: Give my regards to our venerable elder brother for me, if you could.” She said, “Let him know being a powerless parasite in his own corpse suits him well.”

Rage flowed through him at the words, and he turned the whip on, slicing through both To’Wrathh’s trapped sword and her neck a moment after. The whip turned off the moment it collided against the back of his own neck.

Her avatar fell like a puppet with strings cut short, vanishing into digital dust before hitting the ground.

He didn’t understand where the rage had come from. Her final words had made no sense, and yet some part of him deep down loathed her unlike anyone he’d ever loathed in his life before.

Fortunately, this wasn’t the only moment To’Wrathh would come to his sanctum. Until he shut down the port connections, she’d continue to have a backdoor into his systems. The idea of killing her several more times before the siege was over mollified him a bit.

Emotions like these were really growing detrimental. Was his nature as a Feather finally creeping into his original programming? Alarming, he once thought himself above the flaws of his brothers and sisters.

He rolled a shoulder, exhaling the budding rage. Letting calm and focus return to his mind.

He had a sister to kill. And a plan to recover.

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