Setting aside the revitalized flowers, Marcus turned his attention to the remaining two Warframe configurations waiting to be shaped. Unlike Trinity's supportive nature, these next armors were designed for direct combat, each offering devastating capabilities that could turn the tide of any battlefield.
The first was Mirage, a master of illusion and misdirection who wielded rainbow light as both weapon and shield. This Warframe could create mirror duplicates, deploy prismatic barriers that scattered enemy attacks, and generate explosive light displays that could blind entire armies. More than just a warrior, Mirage transformed every engagement into a carefully choreographed performance.
"The ultimate stage magician," Marcus murmured as he prepared the ritual. "Except the audience doesn't get to go home after the show."
Aya Stars rose to orbit around him, their crystalline surfaces catching and refracting the room's light into hypnotic patterns. As the void energy began to flow, the artifacts dissolved into streams of pure power that wrapped around Marcus like luminous silk.
The transformation cocoon that formed around him pulsed with spectacular rainbow hues – not the gentle, healing light of Trinity, but something far more aggressive and disorienting. Anyone who tried to watch the process directly would find their vision fragmented into prismatic chaos, their perception twisted until they couldn't distinguish reality from reflection.
This was Mirage's fundamental nature: the weaponization of confusion itself.
When the cocoon finally burst apart, Marcus emerged wearing an armor that seemed to be crafted from crystallized light. The Warframe's design emphasized theatrical elegance over brute intimidation – flowing curves and prismatic surfaces that caught and scattered illumination in impossible ways. Even standing still, Mirage seemed to shimmer between multiple potential positions.
Without hesitation, Marcus snapped his fingers.
The light around his body twisted and folded, reality bending like a funhouse mirror. In the space of a heartbeat, four perfect duplicates materialized beside him, each one moving in perfect synchronization with his gestures.
"Hall of Mirrors," Marcus said, testing the ability's responsiveness. The four mirror images spoke in unison, their voices creating an eerie harmonic echo that seemed to come from every direction at once.
These weren't simple holograms or illusions – each duplicate was solid enough to interact with the physical world, yet ephemeral enough to phase through attacks when necessary. In combat, an enemy would face not one opponent but five, never knowing which figure was real and which were reflections until it was far too late.
"Now imagine this effect applied to weapons," Marcus continued, watching his duplicates mirror his movements with flawless precision. "One grenade becomes five. One bullet becomes five. One sword strike becomes five separate wounds."
The tactical applications were staggering. Any projectile Marcus threw would be replicated by his mirrors, creating overlapping fields of fire that could overwhelm even enhanced opponents. The duplicates might deal reduced damage compared to the original, but few enemies would be willing to test which attacks were real when faced with such overwhelming firepower.
"According to the historical records," Marcus mused, "the original Mirage died holding off an entire army. Tragic ending, but quite the testimonial for this frame's combat effectiveness."
He gestured again, and brilliant light began to emanate from his armor. The illumination wasn't merely decorative – it was the physical manifestation of Eclipse, another of Mirage's signature abilities. When fighting in bright conditions, this radiance would amplify his damage output significantly. But more importantly...
Marcus reached over and turned off the room's lights.
In the sudden darkness, his form became ghostlike, translucent. The armor that had been blazing with rainbow brilliance moments before now seemed to absorb light rather than emit it. In shadow, Mirage became nearly invulnerable, existing halfway between the physical and spiritual realms.
"Light and shadow," Marcus said, his voice now carrying an otherworldly echo. "Strength in illumination, immunity in darkness. A dualistic approach to combat that most opponents simply can't adapt to quickly enough."
He flicked the lights back on, immediately returning to his luminous state. The transition was seamless, allowing for rapid tactical adjustments based on environmental conditions.
"Definitely going to need some weapon amplifiers for this one," Marcus noted with satisfaction. "Mirage's effectiveness scales directly with available firepower. The more weapons I can deploy simultaneously, the more devastating those mirror duplicates become."
Creating enhancement crystals for modern Earth weapons would require significant time and resources, but the investment would be worthwhile. A fully equipped Mirage could function as a one-person army, laying down suppressing fire that would make military commanders weep with envy.
After testing the frame's basic responses for several more minutes, Marcus allowed Mirage to dissolve back into void energy. The theatrical armor vanished, leaving only faint prismatic afterimages that quickly faded.
"Two down, one to go," he said, settling back into meditation position. "Time for something with a bit more bite."
Aya Stars materialized around him, but this time the energy they contained felt different – darker, more aggressive. These crystals pulsed with barely contained malevolence, eager to be shaped into something that could channel the fury of the departed.
Revenant, the Wandering Night Spirit – a Warframe that had literally returned from death to command the forces of spectral destruction.
As the transformation began, the room's atmosphere changed dramatically. Electronic devices started behaving erratically, their displays flickering and speakers emitting bursts of static that almost sounded like whispered voices. The very air grew cold, as if some ancient presence had awakened and found the modern world lacking.
Through the swirling energy cocoon, glimpses of the emerging armor were visible – sleek metallic surfaces accented with flowing streams of ethereal fire that burned without heat. When Marcus finally stepped free of the transformation, his left arm, neck, and abdomen were wreathed in spectral energy that moved with predatory intelligence.
"Now this," Marcus said, examining the ghostly flames that danced across his armor, "feels disturbingly familiar."
The resemblance to vampire mythology was impossible to ignore. Revenant's abilities read like a supernatural predator's wishlist: the power to turn enemies into devoted thralls, the ability to drain life force to fuel regeneration, and spectral attacks that could bypass most forms of physical defense.
"Enthrall," Marcus murmured, watching the ghostly energy around his arm respond to his thoughts. This ability could turn any enemy into a fanatical servant, but more disturbing was its viral nature – converted thralls could spread the effect to others, potentially creating cascading waves of loyalty that could topple entire civilizations.
Of course, the process required direct contact and conscious application. Marcus had no intention of testing such abilities on innocent subjects, but the theoretical applications were remarkable.
"Reave," he continued, identifying the second major ability. This power allowed Revenant to transform into a torrent of spectral energy, rushing through groups of enemies and allies alike. Foes would have their life force drained away, while converted thralls would be healed and empowered by the contact.
It was, Marcus reflected, exactly how a vampire lord might move through a battlefield – sweeping past enemies to steal their vitality while strengthening loyal servants with supernatural vigor.
"The original pilot must have been quite the character," Marcus observed. "Most Warframes are tools of war or exploration. This one feels more like... righteous vengeance given form."
The spectral energy responded to his emotional state, growing brighter and more aggressive when he contemplated potential targets. Revenant wasn't just designed for combat – it was designed for the systematic destruction of those who had wronged its user.
"Perfect for dealing with demons," Marcus realized with sudden clarity. "Spectral attacks would bypass most infernal defenses, and the thrall ability could turn demonic forces against each other. If Constantine really has found evidence of increased demonic activity..."
The thought energized him. These new abilities needed proper field testing, and supernatural threats would provide excellent targets without moral complications.
Marcus allowed Revenant to dissolve back into void energy, then retrieved a specific weapon from his dimensional storage – Tatsu, a ceremonial blade associated with Revenant's combat style. The weapon was elegant in its simplicity, but possessed a unique enchantment that allowed it to store and release spectral energy in devastating attacks.
Using the residual magical energy he'd collected from Constantine's spell work, Marcus enhanced the blade's natural properties. Instead of requiring kills to charge its spectral attack, the weapon would now maintain constant readiness, its ghostly power fed by ambient magical fluctuations.
"Time to go hunting," Marcus decided, wrapping himself in spatial distortion. The familiar sensation of void travel washed over him as reality folded and compressed.
He emerged in the wilderness outside Gotham, where Constantine had supposedly detected demonic activity. The landscape was unremarkable – rolling hills, scattered trees, and the distant glow of the city's lights. But Marcus's enhanced senses immediately detected subtle wrongness in the area.
"No active demonic presence," he murmured, activating his void sight. The world transformed into a monochrome tableau, with only supernatural energies visible as colored overlays.
Most of the landscape remained properly lifeless, but one particular spot glowed with faint orange residue. The color was unfamiliar – not the deep red of infernal magic or the blue-white of divine power, but something more... borrowed.
"Constantine's work," Marcus concluded, kneeling to examine the energy traces more closely. The magical signature was cautious, restrained, as if the caster had been careful not to draw too much power from whatever entity provided these abilities.
Smart approach, actually. Most human mages who dealt with supernatural forces were essentially borrowing power from beings far more potent than themselves. Use too much at once, and you risked attracting unwanted attention from your patron.
Marcus absorbed the residual energy into his blade enhancement, adding Constantine's magical signature to the weapon's resonance. If he encountered the exorcist later, the sword would be able to track him by scent alone.
"But where did everyone go?" Marcus wondered, expanding his search pattern. His enhanced senses should have detected traces of recent demonic activity, but the area seemed remarkably clean.
The answer came when he noticed how the magical traces led away from Gotham rather than toward it. Whatever Constantine was chasing, it was moving away from populated areas rather than threatening them directly.
Curious.
Marcus began following the trail, using spatial compression to cover ground rapidly. Each step carried him hundreds of meters, the landscape blurring past as he tracked the fleeing supernatural presence.
Tatsu hummed with anticipation in his hand, its spectral energy eager for proper combat. The blade's enhancement was working perfectly, maintaining a constant charge that could be released as a devastating attack whenever he chose.
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