Only Human

"Stop!!" Orel shouted. "Stop the attack!"

The giants retreated immediately, at least those who could, some were still brutally struck, their ice heads crushed by Renée. Orel intended to bury Renée under the enormous number of combatants and trample her, but even if that might flatter his ego, he understood two things. The first and most obvious was that it wasn't working. The second, and perhaps not so obvious, was that Renée's power was increasing as she fought. If before she used good tactics to dodge and cut, receiving some blows and being subdued a few times, now she didn't even bother to use her sword; her bare hands hurled and crushed giants as if they were made of styrofoam.

Orel took two steps forward and made a gesture in the air, a line, freezing the falling raindrops in the shape of a spear. Renée, on the other hand, understood what he was going to do. She knelt and struck the ground, burying her fists in the earth. After a few seconds in that position, Orel couldn't determine what she would do; he didn't know if it was a strange surrender or some kind of show of ****, keeping her incapacitated hands on the ground.

Orel said nothing. Neither did Renee.

The giant leaped with impressive speed, his ice spear, hard as diamond, aiming at the redhead's soaked face, between her green eyes that now seemed to burn with an indescribable flame... it was then that Renee pulled her arms and crossed them in front of her face; there was rock and asphalt around her hands like two powerful gauntlets of earth. The spear struck the gauntlets and stopped, the impact ricocheting spectacularly. Orel's spear flew away from his hands, the giant fell unarmed a few meters away from Renee. The redhead rose again, the ground tearing open around her and detaching itself, lifting her into the air as if that were her natural state. All of this seemed natural to Renee.

"Water..." thought Orel, "Separates the impure from the pure, and that which sinks from that which floats... This woman... Moradin chose her as he chose Atrahasis, for she stood out, for she floats in the midst of our flood."

Orel rose from the wet asphalt, his empty hand trembling not from the cold, but from something he refused to name. The ice spear shattered into shards in the distance, evaporating before touching the water that now pooled in black puddles beneath the trembling lampposts. He looked at Renee.

She floated three feet off the ground, the block of earth and asphalt creaking beneath her feet like an extension of her own flesh. The water around her began to move backward. It didn't drain, it didn't evaporate. It receded. As if afraid. Orel saw clear rivulets sliding away from the base of the platform, trickling through cracks that opened in the ground, swallowed by holes that formed in concentric circles. The floodwaters, already lapping at her ankles, lowered to her feet, then to the soles of her feet, then disappeared within a ten-meter radius around the redhead. Dry earth appeared, steaming under the rain that still fell but dared not touch that perimeter. The giants retreated further. Orel heard one of them groan softly, a guttural sound he recognized as a prayer.

Renee lowered her arms. The earthen gauntlets crumbled into grains that floated for an instant before settling like dust on her armor, now appearing to be made of red scales. Her wet hair, clinging to her face and neck, flowed in strands that looked like dark veins against her pale skin. Rainwater trickled down her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her closed lips, and Orel swore he saw blood in that trickle. It wasn't blood. It was just the reflection of her red hair. Just the reflection. He repeated this to himself as his fingers froze the air before him into a new blade.

She didn't move. She just watched him. Her green eyes didn't blink. Orel had faced champions of dead gods, had cleaved warriors who cried out to Tyr and Tempus, but he had never seen such an empty gaze. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't fury. It was the absence of anything he could negotiate with. It burned, but it burned around a great void.

Orel rose from the wet asphalt, his empty hand trembling not from the cold, but from something he refused to name. The ice spear shattered into shards in the distance, evaporating before touching the water that now pooled in black puddles beneath the trembling lampposts. He looked at Renee.

She floated three feet off the ground, the block of earth and asphalt creaking beneath her feet like an extension of her own flesh. The water around her began to move backward. It didn't drain, it didn't evaporate. It receded. As if afraid. Orel saw clear rivulets sliding away from the base of the platform, trickling through cracks that opened in the ground, swallowed by holes that formed in concentric circles. The floodwaters, already lapping at her ankles, lowered to her feet, then to the soles of her feet, then disappeared within a ten-meter radius around the redhead. Dry earth appeared, steaming under the rain that still fell but dared not touch that perimeter. The giants retreated further. Orel heard one of them groan softly, a guttural sound he recognized as a prayer.

Renee lowered her arms. The earthen gauntlets crumbled into grains that floated for an instant before settling like dust on her armor, now appearing to be made of red scales. Her wet hair, clinging to her face and neck, flowed in strands that looked like dark veins against her pale skin. Rainwater trickled down her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her closed lips, and Orel swore he saw blood in that trickle. It wasn't blood. It was just the reflection of her red hair. Just the reflection. He repeated this to himself as his fingers froze the air before him into a new blade.

She didn't move. She just watched him. Her green eyes didn't blink. Orel had faced champions of dead gods, had cleaved warriors who cried out to Tyr and Tempus, but he had never seen such an empty gaze. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't fury. It was the absence of anything he could negotiate with. It burned, but it burned around a great void.

"You're not human," Orel said, his voice lower than he intended. The rain muffled the sound. "What did Moradin do to you?"

Renee tilted her head. Just a few degrees. Enough for the water to trickle from her hair to her shoulder, running down the hilt of the sword she hadn't even drawn. Orel felt his stomach clench. That movement wasn't human. It was the way a bird of prey adjusts its angle before swooping down. It was the way something that never needed to learn gentle examines its prey.

He attacked.

The new ice spear sliced ​​through the air with a sonic snap, but Orel was already moving to the side, freezing the rain around him into a thousand needles that shot out in volleys. Renee didn't dodge. She raised her right hand, and the ground before her rose into a thin wall of asphalt and gravel, the needles piercing it like thorns in a leather shield. The main spear pierced the wall—and stopped. Not against her hand. Against the air three inches from her face. Orel saw the spearhead vibrate, frozen in place by an invisible ****, and then the tip began to chip. It didn't melt. It chipped. As if the very concept of ice was being negated there.

Renee shifted her gaze from the spear to Orel. And smiled.

It was a minimal movement, just a corner of her lips curving upward, but Orel felt his heart stop for a full second. That smile contained no joy. No triumph. It contained the same emptiness in her eyes, but now with a sharp edge. It was the smile of someone who already knows the ending and is just waiting for the other to discover it.

The water around the dry perimeter began to bubble. Not from the heat. From the receding water. Holes in the asphalt opened like hungry mouths, swallowing the deluge that tried to approach. Orel realized that the entire ground beneath Renee was molding itself to her, rising in steps, columns, small cliffs of earth and concrete that lifted her higher and higher. She wasn't just floating. She was building a throne.

"Stop," Orel said, but he wasn't sure if the word was directed at her or himself. He took a step back. Then another. Renee descended from her platform, didn't jump, didn't descend, just let the earth lower her like an elevator of bone and dust, touched the dry ground with her bare feet (when had she lost her boots? Orel didn't know. He didn't want to know). Each footprint left a deep mark, as if the asphalt regretted supporting her.

Orel raised his hands. The air before her froze into a wall of black ice, as thick as marble. The ground around Renee froze to trap her. Her own breath froze and shattered into shards. She clad herself in an armor of ice. Renee walked through it all. The wall split in two as she passed, not by brute ****, but because the ice simply gave way. The frozen ground creaked beneath her feet and crumbled into white sand. The shards of breath turned to vapor before touching her skin.

She stopped a meter from Orel. The ice giant looked down and saw green eyes raised to him. Rain fell on both of them, but on Renee's back the water split, trickling down in two curtains that didn't touch her. Orel noticed his own feet sinking into the softened asphalt. The earth around Renee was moving. Slowly. As if it were waking up. "What are you?" Orel whispered.

Renee raised her left hand. She touched Orel's chest. The ice armor that covered him creaked, cracked, and a fissure opened from his sternum to his navel. It wasn't ****. It was permission. The ice obeyed her. Orel felt the cold leave his body, not as a relief, but as an amputation. He fell to his knees.

She leaned over. Her red hair fell forward like curtains of dried blood, steaming water dripping as it touched his shoulder. Orel saw his own reflection in her green eyes. There was nothing but darkness in them. Not his image. Not light. Just a bottomless pit where his terror dissipated like the flood around him.

"Moradin..." Orel tried to say, but the name died in his throat.

Renee stepped away. Turned her back to him. And, without a word, without a glance, began to walk toward the hotel where the sky ripped open in golden lightning, the battlefield of Moradin and the serpent.

Orel was still on his knees when he realized the ground beneath him was no longer the same. The asphalt had turned to sludge, and the sludge had become something denser, darker, like the raw flesh of the earth exposed after surgery. He tried to stand, but his feet sank up to his ankles. He tried to freeze the solid ground, but the ice shattered into black shards that bubbled and vanished.

Renee had stopped. A few steps away, her back to him, she raised her right hand in an almost casual gesture. Like swatting a mosquito. Like saying no.

The earth groaned.

Orel looked back and saw his giants. Those still standing, those lying wounded, those praying. They all began to sink. Not slowly, not like in a treacherous swamp. They fell. The asphalt opened into circular mouths, and the icy bodies were sucked in with a damp, final sound. A giant tried to grasp the edge of the hole, his icy fingers splintering against the concrete. The edge snapped shut on his wrist like a jaw. Another giant, the younger one, screamed Orel's name as mud surged up his chest, his neck, his open mouth. The sound was cut off as if a knife had slit a rope.

None of them emerged. None of them even tried to fight after the first few seconds. Orel realized with a spine-chilling horror: they couldn't. The earth wouldn't swallow them. It recognized them as foreigners, as impurities, and expelled them from itself downwards, into layers no ice giant had ever seen. They fell straight into Sheol like Korah and his supporters.

Orel stood on trembling legs. The mud already licked his knees. He looked at Renee, who still hadn't turned around. The rain fell around her in perfect curtains, but not a single drop touched her red hair now. They floated lightly, dry, moving like water serpents in a wind that didn't exist. The red armor gleamed wet, but the gleam didn't come from the water. It came from within. As if a forge burned beneath those scales.

"Moradin can't save his world," Orel said, his voice a hoarse whisper. He didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself. "Poketnaru is a powerful god, he has secretly fed for many ages. The flood will come."

Renee turned her head. Just enough for Orel to see the profile of her face. The corner of her green eye. The line of her jaw. He saw something moving beneath her skin. Not veins. Not muscles. Something deeper. Something that writhed like the roots of an ancient tree.

The earth trembled.

Orel sank to his waist. He desperately tried to freeze the mud around him, to turn it into solid ice so he could stand upright, but the mud simply absorbed the cold and became thicker, more viscous, more alive. He felt fingers of earth touching his legs. Not fingers. Roots. Cracks that closed like fists.

"Chosen," he spat the word as an insult. "You are not a chosen one. You are a thing. A thing Moradin forgot to tie up."

Renee turned completely. Her green eyes now shone with an amber hue deep down, like embers under ashes. She took a step toward him, and the earth opened before her in a trench that swallowed the accumulated water, which swallowed the remnants of ice, which swallowed the bodies of the giants that had not yet fully descended. Orel heard one last muffled cry coming from ten meters below the surface. Then silence.

She stopped half a meter from him. Orel's chest was now at her knees. He lifted his face and saw her expression. It wasn't anger. It wasn't triumph. It was the same absence as before, but now filled with something he could only describe as geological patience. She watched him like a mountain watches a stream trying to erode its base. Without haste. Without judgment. Just the certainty that, in the end, he would cease to exist.

"Please," Orel said.

He didn't know if he was asking to live or to die quickly. Perhaps both.

Renee raised her left hand. She opened her fingers. The ground beneath Orel opened like a fleshy flower. He fell. He fell for a second, for a minute, for an eternity; time lost its meaning in the damp darkness that enveloped him. He saw up, for an instant, the circle of gray sky diminishing, diminishing, until it became a point. And at the edge of that point, Renee's face. Her red hair falling like curtains of lava. Her green eyes now entirely golden.

She closed her hand. The earth closed over Orel with the sound of an anvil striking steel. Then there was only the slow creaking of tectonic plates, the murmur of groundwater, and the silence of something ancient that had fallen asleep again.

Above, on the surface, Renee stood motionless for a long moment. The rain finally touched her. It streamed down her face, washing away the amber glint in her eyes, leaving only the tired green of a twenty-something woman wearing Halloween armor. She looked at her own hands. They were clean. The earth around her was smooth, untouched, as if no giant had ever been there. The floodwaters began to advance again, now free to inundate the empty parking lot.

Renee raised her eyes to the sky, where golden lightning danced against a serpentine silhouette.

"I'm only human." said her.