Anthony's breathing stopped.
He was dead to the world, a flood of memories, all of them, returning. His early years - Hellbent's early years - as a child in the Roughs. Running away, joining the Koloss tribe, leading the Koloss tribe. Growing the tribe, making the tribe all Koloss-blooded, more intelligent. Moving the tribe into bandits of the sky, his flying gang. Roshar, his criminal past there. Scadrial, Roshar, Scadrial, Roshar. Forty years of memories, of marriage, of having a little girl for nine years. Memories of murdering children, his first truly horrendous crime. Burning them to get his revenge on Harmony. Harmony had burnt Anthonyt's house? Well, Anthony would burn down a house full of sleeping Terris children. More memories flooded in, after he had became Hellbent. Slaughtering Shin, killing Alethi, killing Veden, killing anyone he could get his hands on. Building a cultist empire on Roshar, the Blood Radiants. Hellbent discovering the Alleyverse, then going to help on a quest. He had gone to a party, thrown by Queen Elsa Steelheart, brought an entire cooked chasmfiend. And then... the Red Haze. He had joined the Seven Day War, fought for the Dark Alley, slaughtered. He would have murdered Drako, but Devaan was there. He had fought Devaan... and he had died. The years in between were murky, insubstantial. He had been like a spren from Hell, creating chaos. But always keeping the Alleylantrian spikes. And eventually, he had become It. He had killed Space Marines, created hemalurgic demons. And the warriors had trembled. He had gone to the Ghostblood ball. He had fought Dusk. He had done so, so much.
Anthony struggled to remember himself, struggled to be him, with all the slaughter, the bloodshed, the crimes. But there was two years of Anthony... and more than seventy years of Hellbent. Anthony was falling deeper into the darkness, and Hellbent was crawling to the surface, to slaughter the child, Anthony's wife, the attackers... and Anthony couldn't stop him.
Then... relief. The memories receded, were put behind a veil. Anthony could sense that they were still there, but they were blocked. He could access them, but they weren't his. He wasn't Hellbent, he wasn't It, he wasn't even the original Anthony. He was Anthony Nightshade, Tena's husband, Sol's father. He felt peace as he came to these conclusions. And then there was a voice.
How's that? Better?
Anthony was confused. He had fought of the memories, and now this?
No, no. The voice chuckled. You didn't defeat them. I did. I hid them.
Who are you?
The voice sighed. Who am I? I am a friend. That's all you need to know. I will provide you with the abilities you need to defeat them.
You can do that?
Yes.
Three months of memories filled him. Training. Fighting. War. The memories integrated into him, and a small amount stayed. Then they were gone. Next, two months of changing his body, molding his flesh. A day or two's worth in memories stayed, and the rest disappeared again.
Are you ready?
Yes.
Anthony breathed in sharply, and his eyes flew open. For a second, one eye had an image over it, like molten fire. But it was just that. An image for a second. He had stopped breathing for ten seconds. He grinned lightly, standing slowly. His body rippled, small plates of bone began appearing on the surface of his arms, of his neck, of his face. Small spikes grew out of his hands. He looked down at Talost and Silas, and noted they were no longer a threat. He turned, looking at the others. The siblings. He grinned, and reached out, grabbing his bowstaff. "Tena? Protect the children and Ambrosia, and try to bring Silas back to us." He dropped into a fighting stance. "I'm going to kill these bastards."
He sprinted forward, tapping massive amounts of fortune, and slid the staff under a mans feet, slamming the man to the ground. He brought the metal end down on the mans face, and moved on, hoping he'd killed him, whirling around the room, moving inhumanly quickly, bone plates growing to block any attacks. He hit again and again, at least twenty times over the room. Only the first was almost definitely lethal, but the rest would hurt.
~-~-~-~-~
Ambrosia watched, eyes wide. She stood slowly, making sure the children were safe, and ran out the front porch, gripping the gemstone tightly, to teleport at a moments notice.
The stormlight left John's gemstone. He growled, stepping back, and backhanded her. John raised his claws, as if he was going to slash her face. Then the wall behind him exploded. His wing tore at an unnatural angle, and he flew backward. Through the hole in the wall strode Lord Arkos Garfield Alexander Ohne Maximus Hölle Hamilton Julian Kingsley Ebony III, member of the Triarchy. He grinned darkly, and amberite grew up in a suit around him. "Open fire." The House Ebony guards around him opened fire, blasting thousand of bullets at Ark and John. Ark ran forward, grabbing Aln, and threw her out the door. He turned, a sword growing from his hand, and slashed at John, ripping into the bugs. John disintegrated, bugs going every which way, out of the room. Soon, every bug was gone.
Ark grinned, turning back to Aln.
"I hope you weren't hit. We had to get him suddenly, so we could kill as many bugs as possible."