He did not get to flex his muscle very often. Cosmo found that most of the opponents he faced were either hardly worth his time or they were quick to surrender whenever he did something that they deemed strange. He had to resign with the understanding that his style—his very being—was ‘
strange’ or ‘
weird.’ He also had to reconcile that, for whatever peculiar reason, that was reason for people to fear him. His opponents of the last few years were usually too fragile to muscle around with him, or too straightforward to present much fun.
As his hammer whooshed past nothing but air, Cosmo wondered if he had actually found someone who could engage him and present some sort of challenge. He needed someone to keep his skills sharp, and since the war against the Crimson Saber concluded, Cosmo had found that there was simply too little to catch his attention. He had the enviable position of being a big fish stuck in a small pond, and that bored the life out of him. The way this particular foe had managed to use his own control of gravity to duck his attacks on two occasions already showed he had some potential.
But as his hammer was accelerating, Cosmo could feel something changing. It was subtle at first, but then the change rapidly increased. The rock was getting drastically cooler. He could feel the temperature change through the black band, through the ooze that was—despite its separation—just as much a part of his body as any other part of him, as much a part of his body as his appendages. Just like the rest of his body, he could feel with the handle of his weapon.
The crash did not disappoint him, but the subsequent events were a little unexpected. Cosmo had gotten used to predicting what would happen in the immediate future. He had the ability to perceive in quantum time, and know what would or could happen in the immediately adjacent time to the current timeline. He was used to anticipating which one was the most likely based on this insight. This time, however, his opponent had cooled the rock so quickly and so much that he barely had the time to anticipate what would happen next.
As the rock came down, the deafening roar produced such an enormous shockwave that Cosmo could feel it blow past him, tousling his hair and tugging at his clothes. Nearby structures collapsed underneath the reverberations of the earth, which shook Cosmo to the core. A mountain of debris kicked high into the air, temporarily obscuring Cosmo’s view of his opponent. The tremors that immediately followed rattled his frame, and yet Cosmo stood there, steadfast and stalwart amidst the blast. The cooled rock failed to survive the impact, shattering on contact, its cracks splitting apart and bursting into many tiny shards.
Exactly, it seemed, as his adversary wanted. Hardly before the dust had scattered, Cosmo found shrapnel and debris flying towards him, no doubt sent by his opponent who thought that this would be a very good chance to attack him.
His eyes narrowed as he watched the debris shoot at him, almost in slow motion. The time when rapidly moving objects or dangerous looking things sent rapid adrenaline rushes through his body had long since passed. Since then, Cosmo had learned to rapidly and algorithmically apply logic and reason to every observation. He had the ability to glance at a situation and assess, realistically, what would happen in the immediate future, without the need of trivial, sentimental emotions like fear or anger—tools for the slower being to semi-accurately assess dangers—telling him what to do.
Or what not to do.
Cosmo stood there, like a statue, as the debris flung towards him. The impact was impressive, like the sound of rock against steel. Pieces slashed at his body, others clung to his frame, still others attempted to penetrate his body, but were quickly turned back by the black ooze that appeared and solidified just under his skin. This ooze appeared to seep out of any cuts, expelling loose bits of debris from his body before instantly healing him. After the dust settled, Cosmo stood there—shards of rock and ice littered around him—looking exactly like he had before he was struck.
His glare, though, had changed. Cosmo had turned that piercing stare towards his adversary, assessing him after the latest attack. He took a few silent moments of scrutiny before he said, in perfect deadpan, “... Ouch.”