Glorybringer: The Nightmare Within

Why won't you die?!

It was a mystery to Flint why Cawthon had chosen him to be the next reincarnation. If he wasn't a Cawthon, then he'd just be left in the dust, forgotten. The previous Cawthon's had made huge strides, helped to better billions of lives. They were pure, strong, brave.

What was he?

He was born into a family he didn't get to meet and then captured by the Nightmares. If he wasn't fighting them as the Cawthon, he'd be fighting the Cawthon as a Nightmare. The other Cawthon's had been pure of heart, with valiant friends by their sides. Flint? He had the mark of the enemy branded onto his neck, now hidden under his fur, but far from forgotten. 

Even his best friends and teammates were created by the Nightmares and marked as defective. They all struggled with their inner darkness. They couldn't even kill this stupid gorilla! The further he drilled into this thing, the less it seemed to have any effect!

Flint knew that if he used it, then this would be far easier. But he refused to become dependant on the Nightmare's curse. Just a little more, he told himself, pushing more energy into his beam despite his exhaustion. 

To his dread, the ropes binding the creature's arms loosened before tightening again. Flint looked over at Lefte, who had blood slowly falling from his nose. He's using too much, the Cawthon realized. Come on, man. Just a little longer.

The mystic tried his best, but eventually, his exhaustion overtook him. He dropped to his knees, the ropes vanishing into impotent sparkles. Flint swore he saw a smile behind the creature's mask before steam blasted from his body. Rogue covered her face to protect herself, sacrificing her handhold. 

The cyborg roared in and leaped upward, knocking Rogue off as he tore through the ceiling. It wasn't long before it came back down, bringing a metal fist down onto the Cawthon. Flint put a shield, blocking the attack. Without warning, the creature's other fist swung around from under. It slammed into the wolf with a crack! as his ribs broke under the pressure

What is this thing?! he wondered as he broke through the wall before crashing to the forest floor. For a few long moments, he laid there, struggling to breath. Then, he felt it. His bones began to shift back into place and heal, as did the organs they damaged.

While before he said that he refused to rely on the curse the Nightmare's had given him, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. In fact, he relied quite heavily on his increased immune system, incredible healing factor, as well as his heightened speed, strength, reflexes and... well, you get the idea.

Once the pain was bearable, he threw himself back up and into the fight. He focused his energy, drawing what he wanted with his hand before grasping it. A long blade resembling a Jiao appeared in his hand, and he ran back into battle.

Meanwhile, Lefte was still sitting in the corner. Get up, he told himself. Fight! But his body refused to move. Pathetic. He was fighting alongside the person destined to save the spectroverse, and he couldn't even stand! He was a mystic. By his knowledge, the last mystic in the spectroverse. They were created by Cawthon to hold the spectroverse together. 

But he wasn't made by Cawthon. He was made by the Nightmares, and he wasn't even go enough for them. No wonder, he thought, watching hazily as his friends fought hard while he simply stood by. 

That frustration grew in him, and before he knew it, it had transformed into anger. No,  he said, pushing it down no matter how good it felt to have it. He couldn't give in to the Nightmare's way of gathering energy. It was like a person with a family history of addiction. If he wasn't careful, he could fall into that trap, and who knows where that'd lead him.

But what if it's the only way?  the mystic wondered suddenly. Could releasing his anger be the only way to defeat this foe? Flint was the strongest person he knew, and he could barely cause a scratch! 

Temptation overwhelmed him. Maybe... maybe just a little, he thought, loosening his hold on his anger. It filled him with energy. Maybe a little more...

"It'll be hard," Flint's voice rang in his head. "But I know we can do it, together. We may be Nightmares, but we are not one of them."

Back then, Rogue had brushed it off as really cheesy, but Lefte had stayed quiet. They had been the only thing keeping him from releasing that pent up rage, from giving in to the same temptation he was feeling now! 

He wasn't going to let Flint down. 

Strength filled him again, but not from anger. Fueled with determination, he forced his body back under his control. Focus, he reminded himself. He knew that physically, there wasn't much he could do. He didn't have enhanced physical attributes like his friends. But maybe he could help in other ways...

He assessed the creature. He knew that whatever the armor was made of was too thick to get past efficiently, especially when it was attacking like this. He needed to find a weak point if they were to have any chance of winning. The most obvious place would be the joints, but the Nightmare's seem to have thought of that; the joints seemed to be all robotic, and made of the same material. The next would be the face, but he saw Flint blast it multiple times, and it hadn't seemed to take any effect.

Come on, he thought. There had to be weak spot on this thing! But it was getting hard to think. Even with the holes in the walls, the steam was starting to--

The steam!