The so-called 'True body' of the legion of puppets pulled its fist from within the chest cavity of the latest ant to fall to the legion's wrath. Black blood, which had surfaced to protect the body from the impact, gradually retreated back underneath its skin.

They had intended for the blow to send the ant flying away, but this one's body seemed considerably more weak than expected. Whilst it was freeing its fist, the legion was also shooting through three more ants as Manticore spikes and cleaving the arm off of another with a steel edged feather.

The legion was having trouble remembering why it was fighting, it had spent so long losing itself in the thrill of combat, that it had utterly forgotten why it was doing this in the first place. It had already sacrificed parts of its body for this fight, spikes had shattered and feathers had snapped in half, yet it couldn't remember why...

{Father...}

As the mystical spear, the legion plunged itself into the eye of a flying ant and immediately expanded itself, its metallic body forcing the worthless ants head apart until it burst into a hail of blood and viscera.

The spear spun in the air, swiping its tip across the throat of another insectoid, yet even as it released the blood coating its blade, it still couldn't figure out what it was forgetting. The legion narrowed its eyes, a motion that confused it in its meaning, especially since many parts of its body had no eyes to begin with, and yet at the same time just felt right to do.

There were many things it could not understand while it continued on with the endless fight that it couldn't remember the beginning of. The legion had only existed for the fight, all it knew was the fight. Yet why did it consider this flesh sack it's 'true body'? Where did such a thought come from? It had no true body, for everything was its body and every body was it. And yet...

{Father!}

Seth let out a stifled grunt as the chitinous teeth of an ant sunk into his shoulder. It tore into his skin, but was unable to pierce through the steel-like fibres of his muscle. The sudden jolt of pain dragged him from his concentration, giving him a brief moment of clarity even if it meant a lacking moment when it came to defence.

Yes, he was Seth. Sephtis Quinn, the son of a cult that had given him this ridiculous name. Brother of Ophelia, Avarice and Woe. The siblings who had been given equally morbid and ridiculous names. He was the master of puppets, not a legion of them.

He was the creator of Julius and Titus, Father to Bob. Father to Omelette. How could he forget Omelette and the fact that he was protecting him?

Seth reached over his shoulder, thanking the ant for bringing him back to his senses by crushing its head in his fist and tossing the corpse away. He immediately focused his mind back on controlling the area of weapons at his disposal, his lull in concentration costing them dearly when it came to their defensive efforts.

However, he also concentrated on not letting himself get absorbed by the brawl. Keeping his mind cemented in himself instead of letting it drift and fragment to become 'The Legion' once again. He could only imagine how much worse it could have been if he was in full control of countless humanoid puppets.

It made him truly thankful of his Spirit Animal, and the burden it alleviated from his mind. His mind might have been more powerful thanks to his stroll down the path of evolution, but human minds weren't built for this kind of thing no matter how powerful.

It was at that moment, that Omelette's voice reverberated within his mind once again, the same voice that had been calling out to him when he was lost as 'The Legion'.

{Father? Have you finally returned?}

'Don't worry, I'm here buddy.'

{Oh, Father! I thought I had lost you. Brother would be very mad if mighty Omelette lost you.}

'It's okay. This really isn't looking good for us though... Give me some feathers, as many as you can, then dive. We need to get to the ground and join the others. This is too many for us alone.'

Omelette let out a deafening roar, his way of saying that he understood his orders, before clamping his jaws around a pest that was buzzing past him. He beat his wings against the air, lifting himself higher and higher. Feathers shed from his wings with every powerful beat, drifting daintily through the air before freezing for a moment and shooting off like a jet fighter seconds later, as Seth took control of these discarded feathers.

Seth lunged forward, wrapping his hand around the horn of Omelette's saddle and clinging on for dear life as his wondrous pet flipped its body in the air. Not just tumbling backwards, but spinning on his horizontal axis, performing a continuous stream of aileron rolls as he spun like a drill.

As he spun, more and more feathers were cast from his body and joined the flock under Seth's control. The more he took under his wing, pun intended, the more he felt his mind fracturing and the more he could feel 'The legion' calling to him once more.

It was the most puppets he had ever had full control over, a number that was only growing by the second. In a desperate attempt to keep himself under control and stop himself from slipping back into 'The Legion' he repeated a singular phrase in his mind over and over.

'I am Sephtis Quinn. I am in control. I am Sephtis Quinn. I am in control. I am...'

Over and over he chanted it, desperately clinging to the words themselves and forcing his mind to stay together despite the overwhelming burden placed upon it.

Finally, Omelette stopped spinning and pointed himself downwards, having donated all of the steel edged feathers he possibly could. He pulled his wings in tight against his body, keeping his form sleek and stream line as he plummeted from the air like a javelin. When he reached the edge of their battlefield in the sky, where the ants had loosely surrounded their position in an attempt to contain them, Omelette narrowed his eyes and looked upon the insects with utter contempt.

He was the Roaming Shadow of Death. He would not be contained by mere insects!

Organs within his throat contracted, filling his mouth with a crackling azure flames, before he opened his mouth and spewed forth the flames in a roaring spire that hungrily consumed those that blocked his path.

Cutting off the stream of fire, Omelette clamped his beak shut and kept it pointed directly at his target destination. The razor sharp point of his beak carved through the air, casting the air over his aerodynamic body as every second of his dive caused him to speed up more and more.

The airborne swarm was quick to follow. The separate tendrils of the black river converging together once more as their wings fervently buzzed against the air, pushing themselves as fast as they could in pursuit of their juicy prey. Such efforts, however, would only lead to their doom.

Still chanting his anchoring phrase in his mind, Seth hooked himself into the stirrups of Omelette's saddle and lifted his hands into the air, waving them as if he was conducting the feathers like an orchestra.

All around Omelette's diving form, the feathers arranged themselves in neat lines, with barely a few inches separating the lines from each other. They were not static in their arrangement, instead soaring through the air in endless loops, orbiting their previous master-like satellites under the orders of their new one. Their orbit quickly began unbearably fast, until Omelette was surrounded by black blurs that whirred and wubbed like the blades of a helicopter.

Or, perhaps, the blades of a blender.

Whenever the pursuing bugs dared get close to the diving pair, they were immediately sliced, diced and carved into bite sized chunks. Even the blood that sprayed into the air was sliced in half and cast away from the Wyvern.

Watching their comrades be blended into bug smoothies unfortunately did not dissuade the ants in the slightest. Driven mad by their hunger, they kept diving into the zone of death, hoping that they would be the lucky one to slip through a gap in the blender, however they only ever succeeded in getting pureed.

Omelette kept his dive until the last possible second. Only when he was practically about to crash into the ground did he finally pull up, spreading his wings wide in a desperate attempt to catch the air and slow his descent.

At the same moment, the blender around him turned off. The orbittng feathers positioned above the Wyvern immediately pointed themselves up, acting like the spines of a hedgehog, spearing any ants that couldn't slow themselves down in time.

The feathers below Omelette pressed their flat side against his belly and the underside of his wings, pushing themselves upwards with Seth's power, he helped the Wyvern with its rapid descent at the last moment.

They still crashed into the ground, quite ungracefully too, but it was at least without injury. Well, other than the ants that were spearing themselves on his shield of feathers, but they didn't count.

Seth glanced at the others who were standing nearby, giving Astra a soft nod as he took in the sight of the battlefield against the ground based ants. Yet before he could join them in their brawl, or before the airborne survivors could find themselves a new route to their prey, a singular sound filled the air.

A shrill, grating screech like nails being dragged down a chalk board.

SSSCCREEEEEEEEEEEE!