These guys really needed to learn to stop assuming that I wouldn’t just do the one dumbest thing possible to make them lose. In this case, they assumed I wouldn’t be completely insane enough to clap my hands and draw on all the radioactive energy from all the plutonium leading to Father. They further had the gall to assume that I wouldn’t immediately fire that radioactive energy as countless thin spears of black matter directly at their heaviest hitter.

In short: Sloth went down like a bitch. He didn’t stay down, but he was certainly not expecting the sudden storm of death metal. And from the look of undisguised shock on Father’s face, he was equally surprised that I was siphoning off the plutonium leading to his body. He gave a silent signal, said something or other; I didn’t care and didn’t hear him.

What was I feeling at that time…? Pain. I was in agonizing, excruciating pain. I was feeling the kind of pain that was never meant to be felt. My alchemy worked on drawing the potential energy from heated and heat-generating objects until, eventually, those objects destroyed themselves. I’d already drawn from a city, and I’d already drawn from a plutonium rod, so drawing from all this radioactive material was easy.

…Except for the blinding, mind numbing pain. If drawing from one rod was enough to knock me out and send me reeling into my inner world, how much agony must these thousands of plutonium rods been inflicting upon me? What the actual hell was I dealing with here? It took focus just to aim the black matter where I wanted or just needed it to go.

The first few barrages of death were relatively successful. After that… it was all a blur to me. Black blobs of death being misshapen and detaching themselves from me at the speed of sound in all directions, hitting just about everything and nothing