Power Thief's Revenge [BL]-Chapter 151: Night Cyclops

Chapter 151: Night Cyclops
The Night Cyclops’ eye rolled, glinting like a lantern of doom in the black sky. A handful of overeager heroes surged forward, shouting their names to get recognition like a bunch of Pokemons going to battle.
It didn’t work.
"Witness the fangs of Iron Wolf!" a man in steel-gray armor bellowed, leaping with clawed gauntlets.
"Feel the judgment of Lady Verdict!" a woman in scales of silver swung a mace that hummed like a bell.
"Stand back... This is a job for Captain Zenith!" someone in a cape practically announced to the press before firing lasers from his palms.
"Heroes are forever!" a cluster of sidekicks yelled together, charging as if enthusiasm alone would carry them.
None of it worked.
Blades bounced off oily hide. Bullets sank in and vanished like pebbles into a swamp. One woman let out a battle cry, only to be silenced mid-note when the beast spat. A long rope of tar-like fluid struck her shoulder.
"AHHHHHHHH!!!!"
She screamed, but her body calcified in seconds, turning into a grotesque statue that toppled and shattered against the marble tiles.
"Fall back!" someone shouted, but it was already chaos.
Ymir’s voice rang clear and cutting above the panic. "Get out of the way if you’re not worth freezing!"
His hands slashed down, ice erupting underfoot. A slope of crystal blue spread from the rooftop railing downward, cascading past ninety stories into the empty air.
"Slide!" Somner barked, already ushering camera crews and paparazzi toward it with wild sweeps of his arms.
His mask was tilted crooked from the frenzy, but his grin never faltered. "Non-powered nobodies, that means you! Down the chute! Complimentary ice luge, courtesy of Frosty over there!"
"I am not—!" Ymir snapped, then cut himself short as another glob of spit sizzled where he’d been standing a moment ago. "...Never mind. He’s right. Move."
People scrambled down the makeshift ice slide, shrieking as they disappeared into the night air, some catching onto its slick edges like screaming sledders. The press still had cameras in hand, flashing even as they went flying downward.
"Move, move, move! This is Jade Lin ing live from the Fiery Cross’ Heroes Gala, where the city’s elite are currently—ahhhh!—currently being evacuated down an ice luge created by the hero Ymir!"
"Keep rolling! Don’t stop filming!" another cameraman barked, clinging to his rig as they slid. "This is front-page gold!"
"Are you kidding me?" A hero’s non-powered plus one screamed, mascara running. "We’re about to be spit-statued and you care about angles?"
"That’s the job!"
"—This is Harold Stern for Channel Seven! If I don’t make it out alive, tell my wife I love her and tell my editor that I died chasing the story!"
A er screamed, "You’re blocking my shot, Harold!"
A streak of fire lit the rooftop.
"Ha! I got this!" Firefly soared upward, her suit glowing orange, wings of flame trailing behind her.
She was the one who created the fiery balls of light for people to see shit in the Fiery Cross’ rooftop.
She lobbed fireball after fireball into the Cyclops’ oily hide. The beast reeled, its body sizzling, dark steam rising. The massive eye squinted, the first sign of pain anyone had managed to inflict.
"Yes!" Firefly threw both hands upward, laughter spilling out. "You all saw that, right!? You’re looking at the one who—"
SCHLORP!
The spit hit her mid-celebration. She shrieked once. Her body petrified mid-pose, arms raised in triumph, then tumbled downward in a crash of stone. The last of her floating orbs winked out with her.
Darkness swallowed the rooftop.
A chorus of panicked voices rose immediately. Chairs overturned. Glass shattered. Someone collided into Hermes’ side before sprinting past blindly.
The Night Cyclops let out a groan that rumbled like tectonic plates crashing into each other. Its eye glowed brighter, making the blackness around it even more suffocating.
"I can’t see!" Someone screamed. "We’re gonna die!""
Then...
A golden beam lanced through the night and cut into the Cyclops’ gaping maw!
Paragon stood front and center, his jaw clenched, sunbeams pouring from his eyes with searing intensity. The Night Cyclops recoiled, hissing like a mountain cracking.
It worked.
At least for a moment.
Then the scorched flesh knit back together, oily dark threads stitching the wound closed. The Cyclops’ eye rolled again, shining with fresh malice.
From the corner of Hermes’ vision, Magni staggered closer. His flame-lit pierrot mask was tilted sideways, but his voice was firm.
"It regenerates... because the night feeds it. As long as it’s darkness, the wounds will close."
Hermes cursed under his breath, stumbling through the shadows. "Magni? Ymir? Where the hell are you—"
His hands reached out blindly, catching Ymir’s shoulder, then Magni’s arm. Without hesitation, he yanked loose strands of their hair, shoving both into his mouth like bitter candy.
The transformation rippled instantly. Cryoshift frosting over his veins, Magnarok flaring in his core. Hermes’ body steamed in the night as frost and fire warred for dominance inside him.
"Alright." He muttered. "Let’s see if this does anything."
He launched forward, blades of ice sprouting from his arms, fire bursting from his fists. With a guttural shout, he hurled an ice spear into the Cyclops’ eye and followed with a blast of fire.
The Cyclops jerked, staggered, but then... the attacks fizzled, its hide sucking the power like sand swallowing water. The wounds healed again.
The beast let out a chuckle, an earth-shaking vibration that rattled Hermes’ ribs.
"Damn it..." Hermes spat.
"My Lord!" Paragon’s voice cut across the rooftop. He was panting now, his beams dimmer than before. "I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but only light hurts it. It doesn’t matter how strong the strike is... dark powers feed it. You’ll just make it stronger!"
Hermes stumbled back, frost steaming off his arms. "...Light?"
"Yes!" Paragon grimaced, his beams flickering. "But I’m weaker at night. The sun fuels me."
Hermes’ eyes narrowed, remembering that from the interview. "But what about the moon? Shouldn’t that still—"
Paragon shook his head, voice clipped. "The Cyclops is covering it. Look!"
Hermes’ gaze snapped upward. The beast’s vast body swallowed half the sky, blotting out the moon entirely. Its glowing eye was the only thing left shining, mocking.
His heart thudded. No Firefly. No other light-users. Just Paragon, already faltering.
"Fuck." Hermes clutched his head, panic chewing at his thoughts.
The rooftop screamed with chaos, heroes firing useless shots into the dark, the air stinking of stone and spit.
And then—
An idea snapped into place. A risky and desperate idea.
Risky because...
It meant he would be revealing the true nature of his powers to someone he barely knew.
His eyes flicked to Paragon, still blazing golden, light sputtering with each second. Hermes’ mouth went dry. He hated it.
But he knew it was the only way.
He grabbed Paragon’s arm, yanking him closer. "Raphael..."
Paragon blinked. "...What?"
Hermes’ voice came out rough, strained, but certain.
"We need to drink each other’s blood."