ã€ŠA Lonely Godã€‹


 1 - Prologue

    The void trembled, a herald of the end. But I would not stop, could not stop. Not while I was so close.

    The Sovereign roared in pain as another of my Infinity shattering arrows struck, weaving thought into law in a desperate attempt to ward them off. But we had been fighting for far too long, and while I was weakened and wounded, the sovereign was on his last legs.

    I surveyed the void in caution as I closed off the last avenues of escape. It was shattered and fragmented from our battle, a map of the war I had waged against the one that had created my people.

    My crown began to shine, bringing forth the eternal blue that gave it its name, binding the sovereign in shackles of the endless sky.

    Watching him cowering helplessly before me, awoke something in me.

    ¡°Why?¡± I questioned in the voice of divinity.

    He laughed, voice ragged, but majestic. ¡°It''s lonely. To be at the peak. I suspect you¡¯ll find out soon.¡±

    ¡°Was it worth it?¡±

    But he was no longer listening. His gaze was centered above me, a mad smile caressing his starry lips, power made physical.

    Very well, If he would not speak, then I would do my duty.

    I slung my bow behind my back, and raised my hand over his bound form, blue light escaping from my perfected flesh.

    ¡°I am Rashek Eteral, Hero of Ages, Crown of the Endless Sky and by my name, I condemn you.¡±

    With every word the corona of eternal blue grew brighter, outshining the stars until it turned the entirety of the void into the image of the endless sky. I looked at the kneeling figure below me, wondering how it had come to this.

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    But I could not stop now.

    ¡°Speak now or forever hold your peace.¡±

    His mad smile only grew, gaze still fixed on a point behind me.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ you.¡±

    ¡°May the endless sky take you in agony.¡±

    My hand fell, bringing the majesty of the endless sky with it.

    And just like that the sovereign, creator of all existence was gone.

    I wondered what was next. My people would need guidance now that their immortal emperor had been slain. They needed to be taught the way of the free, away from the prying eyes of the all-powerful.

    But first, I wandered over the Sovereign''s last words, a ripple of uncertainty appearing as I contemplated what they could mean. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I began to turn around, afraid of what I would find. But before I could set my eyes on whatever he saw, the void began to roil, the backlash of slaying an ascendant finally making itself clear.

    It was so much greater than I had expected.

    Last words forgotten, I rushed over to my people, stepping out of the void and into existence. Calling upon the last embers of my power and the crown of Eternal Blue, I pushed back.

    But I was tired.

    And the void was relentless.

    I roared in effort and pain as more and more if existence was consumed by the hungry emptiness.

    Finally, only I was left.

    I wept as I resisted, mourning the cruel loss of my people.

    But I could not resist forever.

    My last thought before the angry void swallowed me was of the sovereign''s last words.

    What had he seen?

    All became black.

 2 - Light

    There are numerous theories on how the universe came to be. Some claim it came in a burst of heat and energy, an explosion of such destruction it instead created. Some contend it came about in a single spontaneous moment, beget by a random fluctuation of quantum particles. Others say it was born of the remains of a previous universe; one broken by the great march of time. But I believe something different. The universe was created by a being. A being of such power a single thought created all that is known. GOD.

    I awoke in darkness, the last echoes of a voice spilling into infinity. Nothing but void for as far as I could sense. My existence was new and I knew not what was possible. What I was. For a time, seconds, or eons it mattered not, I basked in that void. In the solitude and peace found in the still black. And I built myself. Plucked fragments of concepts out of infinity and pieced by self together, concept by concept, piece by piece. Finally, my long period in the womb of the void began to approach the end. I was almost completed and beginning to grow bored of the endless void. Then it happened. The final piece was added and I was born. Gears began to turn, ideas began to revolve. For the first time in my timeless existence, I began to think. New ideas sprang into being and old ideas were discarded. The void shifted as my ideas were brought into existence, only to be destroyed once more. More time passed. This time in experimentation and contemplation rather than simply basking in the void. Finally, the time came.

    ¡°Let There Be Light¡± I commanded.

    Thought became mandate and reality obeyed. Light was born in that instant. It spread out in a brilliant flash, destroying the void and leaving space in its wake. A safe pocket in the void was created, an empty canvas waiting for the touch of a master.

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    And I was that master.

    With a thought a portion of the light condensed and the first star was born, a massive ball of pure energy. After a bit of tweaking, I made it self-sufficient and moved on to other things. For the first time since my self-conception, I felt alive. I was creating something wondrous. And I couldn''t get enough. I created stars and nebulas and galaxies and planets. Matter and energy appeared and rampaged throughout the burgeoning universe. I created more and more, filled the universe with unimaginable objects.

    But I began to notice a problem.

    There was no order, with planets and stars spontaneously popping in and out of existence in the same moment. So I took a step back, metaphorically of course, and observed what I had created. It was wondrous and messy. The beauty of a child''s scribble. Bursting with life and energy, but with no order. So I observed and waited. The chaotic cycle I had started continued, only growing more vigorous. But I now had a solution,

    ¡°Let There Be Order¡± I commanded.

    And in that command was an intricate set of rules, formulated in my long period of observance. With these rules, everything would be in order and the true beauty of my creation would shine forth. The laws were as much a part of it as were the energy and matter. And together they would create a masterpiece. And indeed the celestial bodies reached their equilibrium, an intricate dance of creation and destruction, give and take. I gazed upon the perfection I had created and I rejoiced. For a time I just watched the movement of the heavens, watched old stars die and new ones were born.

    It was beautiful.

    But something was missing.

    The creation, while beautiful, was sterile. It lacked something. I pondered for eons more, idly gazing on my masterpiece. It came to me in a slow march of time. I was the only one observing my creation, the only one appreciating what I had birthed.

    I was alone.

 3 - Life

    The inanimate universe was one thing, but life proved a far larger hurdle. God experimented and planned and struggled and plotted. For eons, he struggled to make something worthy of observing the perfection he had created, something capable of comprehending his legacy. He created iterations of life and slew them in singular instances. Countless being given birth, only to cease to exist in the same breath. The words of my ancestor record what made humanity different. God split off two pieces of his eternal soul to birth the first humans. He made us divine. And that divinity is what I aspire to.

    Space was painted with bright streaks of light and explosions of molten rock. Equilibrium had been reached and the perfect cycle continued through the eons.

    Yet I wasn''t watching it.

    Instead I pondered my singularity. Why was I the only one? I wasn''t lonely, for loneliness is a thing of mortals. But I wanted my creation to be observed, for its beauty to be appreciated. It was a novel issue, for creation could only be appreciated by creators. I was a creator, but could I truly give birth to other creators? I could only try. My first idea was to create a mind in the image of the universe I had created, borrowing from the perfection I had already wrought. With a thought I split matter into the elementary particles defined by my laws and began to weave them into something much more complicated.

    More complicated than even the universe itself.

    I was completely absorbed in my work as I discovered my creation wasn''t as perfect as I had originally believed. New particles were created on whims and laws changed to better fit my new vision. Finally, my labor was done and I stepped back to view the new creator. It was an intricate interweaving of concepts and matter. Of law and physicality. And I was beautiful. But it didn''t move. It merely stayed in perfect equilibrium. Masterful equilibrium of astral and physical, but sterile equilibrium all the same. The answer came to me in a spark of glorious insight.

    Creation was not an act of logical equilibrium. It was a breaking of equilibrium.

    I knew the answer.

    ¡°Let There Be Chaos¡± I ordained.

    A counterpart to order, the onslaught of chaos would truly bring the cosmos to life. And with it the new creator. The universe stirred into motion as the law that had previously held it captive loosened. Absolute no more. The effect was minor and yet it made all the difference. It was more alive than ever. The creator moved for the first time. It, more than anything, was ruled by chaos.

    And embody chaos it did.

    With a single movement of its long appendages it ripped a star to its components and reassembled it as a blackhole. I observed my creation as it rampaged through the stars, bringing chaos with it. For a time I was content as I watched it grow and evolve. But a seed of doubt was beginning to grow in me. For all that it destroyed and created it never made anything new, only copied what it saw. It had no creativity, no drive. I frowned, the universe darkening. I reached out to it, and asked in a medium deeper than words,

    ¡°What do you think of my creation?¡±

    It continued on its rampage as if it had heard nothing. I tried again,

    ¡°What will you create?¡±

    Silence.

    This was not what I wanted. It was simply another part of the system. Infinitely more complicated yet part of the system all the same. Incapable of true innovation.

    With a thought I reached out and reduced it to atoms. It was time to try again.

    And try again I did.

    This time I created a multitude of creatures, hoping that together they could overcome their individual limits. For a time I thought I had succeeded as they spread out across the planet. They were individually far weaker than the creator had been but together they accomplished wonders. They learned fast and created new things. Nothing complicated but the mere act of creating something new was an achievement in and of itself. Primitive societies even began to spring up on the massive planet they all resided on. Yet¡­ they were hollow. They lacked something I couldn''t pin down at the time, but would eventually identify as emotion. They couldn''t appreciate my creation, couldn''t appreciate anything. So, with the beginning of an emotion I would later learn was irritation, I wiped them all out.

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    And started again.

    For eons I worked, creating countless creatures and machines. They grew brilliant and sophisticated, spanning wondrous technologies and creating intricate societies. They colonized stars and planets and all the celestial bodies.

    Yet, in the end, they all lacked something. True emotion.

    I had learned to simulate emotion but it was a shallow, hollow thing. All it did was make them quarrels and fight. So genocide after genocide I committed in my endless search for perfection. And with every genocide my irritation grew.

    Finally, it came to a boiling point.

    I was observing my latest failure. A society of tentacled beings. Made in the image of the original creator they were the most advanced being I had ever created. Despite being so individually weak they could not even survive the void of space they had created technologies to colonize the stars. Armadas of masterful ships and an empire of countless citizens.

    Yet all they did was fight.

    Their hollow emotions allowed no appreciation of the wonder around them as the dove deeper and deeper into pointless wars. They fought for only the sake of fighting. No grand purpose, no corrupt ambitions, just the weak tugging of simulated emotions. My anger reached a boiling point as I watched two armies clash in weak rage, merely for the fact they could conceive of nothing else to do. They would rather kill themselves than appreciate the beauty I had created.

    So I raged.

    The space itself burned as my rage reached its peak. Their little wars soon became pointless as they were wiped out of existence.

    ¡°Why¡± I boomed, ¡°Why is this beyond me¡±

    The void remained quiet.

    ¡°WHY!¡±

    Creation is an act that defies logic, and in that moment so did I.

    I laughed, a furious exclamation, and the universe shook with my mad outburst.

    ¡°If the height of logic and order continues to defy me, then I shall defy it!¡±

    In that moment I had unwittingly let my emotion consume me, and in doing so I lowered myself to the level of a mortal. But in that concept of mortality I found my answer. My mad solution.

    The two beings I created were utterly illogical. Supple, weak flesh that could only survive in the most perfect of conditions and a mind inferior to even the dumbest of my previous creations. But caught up in my rage and enlightenment I didn''t care. When I finally completed them, nothing happened. They simply stood on unliving legs and stared with dead eyes. Crying out in pain, I plunged my metaphysical hands into the depth of my very being and ripped out two great chunks of my eternal divinity. I shoved them into the vessels I had created and with a roar of pain severed my connection to them, fully giving them to my creations.

    For a moment there was silence, terrible silence as failure flew like an arrow towards my core.

    Only to be stopped by a single clenched fist.

    My creation opened his fist and closed it again, idly flexing the five long appendages emerging from his palm with curiosity that brought about a strange clenching in my chest.

    The second I saw that curiosity I knew.

    I had succeeded.

    The very universe shook as it rearranged itself to accommodate its first true inhabitants. Despite my exhaustion, a novel feeling to one such as me, joy and shock engulfed me as my creations began to move. Looking around in confusion they seemed to see me, and to my shock they reached out. Their communication was crude, nothing but weak impressions, but they communicated nonetheless. And they felt real, more real than anything I had ever created.

    Something in me stirred, almost like a memory reaching out to me, but when I reached out to it, it faded like mist on a summer day.

    Still, the barest spark of insight flared within me, urged on by my creations¡¯ attempts to communicate with me. It was a word. A meaning. A language.

    I reached out to my creations, and in an effort to calm, I named them.

    ¡°Henceforth, you shall be known as Humanity.¡±

    Those born of earthly rage, rather than heavenly grace.

    But that wasn''t enough for them. They pushed, asking for something. It took me an instant to deduce what they wanted.

    They wanted individual names.

    It filled me with joy to see them display such independence within the first moments of creation. I looked at their weak forms and pondered on their questions. They both had two legs and two arms connected to a torso, with a head full of hair crowning it. But one appeared hardier with visible muscles and strong bones while the other was a painting of gentle curves and full lips.

    And I knew their names.

    I manifested a form, similar to theirs, feeling a strange sense of familiarity as I stretched out my new form. I placed a hand on the hardier one¡¯s head.

    ¡°Adam¡±

    I turned to the other.

    ¡°Eve¡±

    I lingered for another instance, enjoying their presence before casting my body aside once more. It was not beckoning to stay.

    Still, I drowned in rapture. They were truly alive. Created in the image of me. I laughed, a thing of pure joy, and declared.

    ¡°No longer is creation uninhabited! Let life and joy usher in a new age!¡±

    The universe joined me in celebration, responding to my will.

    The stars shone brighter and the planets danced around them.

    For I was no longer alone.

 4 - Paradise

    The inanimate universe was one thing, but life proved a far larger hurdle. God experimented and planned and struggled and plotted. For eons, he struggled to make something worthy of observing the perfection he had created, something capable of comprehending his legacy. He created iterations of life and slew them in singular instances. Countless being given birth, only to cease to exist in the same breath. The words of my ancestor record what made humanity different. God split off two pieces of his eternal soul to birth the first humans. He made us divine. And that divinity is what I aspire to.

    Space was painted with bright streaks of light and explosions of molten rock. Equilibrium had been reached and the perfect cycle continued through the eons.

    Yet I wasn''t watching it.

    Instead I pondered my singularity. Why was I the only one? I wasn''t lonely, for loneliness is a thing of mortals. But I wanted my creation to be observed, for its beauty to be appreciated. It was a novel issue, for creation could only be appreciated by creators. I was a creator, but could I truly give birth to other creators? I could only try. My first idea was to create a mind in the image of the universe I had created, borrowing from the perfection I had already wrought. With a thought I split matter into the elementary particles defined by my laws and began to weave them into something much more complicated.

    More complicated than even the universe itself.

    I was completely absorbed in my work as I discovered my creation wasn''t as perfect as I had originally believed. New particles were created on whims and laws changed to better fit my new vision. Finally, my labor was done and I stepped back to view the new creator. It was an intricate interweaving of concepts and matter. Of law and physicality. And I was beautiful. But it didn''t move. It merely stayed in perfect equilibrium. Masterful equilibrium of astral and physical, but sterile equilibrium all the same. The answer came to me in a spark of glorious insight.

    Creation was not an act of logical equilibrium. It was a breaking of equilibrium.

    I knew the answer.

    ¡°Let There Be Chaos¡± I ordained.

    A counterpart to order, the onslaught of chaos would truly bring the cosmos to life. And with it the new creator. The universe stirred into motion as the law that had previously held it captive loosened. Absolute no more. The effect was minor and yet it made all the difference. It was more alive than ever. The creator moved for the first time. It, more than anything, was ruled by chaos.

    And embody chaos it did.

    With a single movement of its long appendages it ripped a star to its components and reassembled it as a blackhole. I observed my creation as it rampaged through the stars, bringing chaos with it. For a time I was content as I watched it grow and evolve. But a seed of doubt was beginning to grow in me. For all that it destroyed and created it never made anything new, only copied what it saw. It had no creativity, no drive. I frowned, the universe darkening. I reached out to it, and asked in a medium deeper than words,

    ¡°What do you think of my creation?¡±

    It continued on its rampage as if it had heard nothing. I tried again,

    ¡°What will you create?¡±

    Silence.

    This was not what I wanted. It was simply another part of the system. Infinitely more complicated yet part of the system all the same. Incapable of true innovation.

    With a thought I reached out and reduced it to atoms. It was time to try again.

    And try again I did.

    This time I created a multitude of creatures, hoping that together they could overcome their individual limits. For a time I thought I had succeeded as they spread out across the planet. They were individually far weaker than the creator had been but together they accomplished wonders. They learned fast and created new things. Nothing complicated but the mere act of creating something new was an achievement in and of itself. Primitive societies even began to spring up on the massive planet they all resided on. Yet¡­ they were hollow. They lacked something I couldn''t pin down at the time, but would eventually identify as emotion. They couldn''t appreciate my creation, couldn''t appreciate anything. So, with the beginning of an emotion I would later learn was irritation, I wiped them all out.

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    And started again.

    For eons I worked, creating countless creatures and machines. They grew brilliant and sophisticated, spanning wondrous technologies and creating intricate societies. They colonized stars and planets and all the celestial bodies.

    Yet, in the end, they all lacked something. True emotion.

    I had learned to simulate emotion but it was a shallow, hollow thing. All it did was make them quarrels and fight. So genocide after genocide I committed in my endless search for perfection. And with every genocide my irritation grew.

    Finally, it came to a boiling point.

    I was observing my latest failure. A society of tentacled beings. Made in the image of the original creator they were the most advanced being I had ever created. Despite being so individually weak they could not even survive the void of space they had created technologies to colonize the stars. Armadas of masterful ships and an empire of countless citizens.

    Yet all they did was fight.

    Their hollow emotions allowed no appreciation of the wonder around them as the dove deeper and deeper into pointless wars. They fought for only the sake of fighting. No grand purpose, no corrupt ambitions, just the weak tugging of simulated emotions. My anger reached a boiling point as I watched two armies clash in weak rage, merely for the fact they could conceive of nothing else to do. They would rather kill themselves than appreciate the beauty I had created.

    So I raged.

    The space itself burned as my rage reached its peak. Their little wars soon became pointless as they were wiped out of existence.

    ¡°Why¡± I boomed, ¡°Why is this beyond me¡±

    The void remained quiet.

    ¡°WHY!¡±

    Creation is an act that defies logic, and in that moment so did I.

    I laughed, a furious exclamation, and the universe shook with my mad outburst.

    ¡°If the height of logic and order continues to defy me, then I shall defy it!¡±

    In that moment I had unwittingly let my emotion consume me, and in doing so I lowered myself to the level of a mortal. But in that concept of mortality I found my answer. My mad solution.

    The two beings I created were utterly illogical. Supple, weak flesh that could only survive in the most perfect of conditions and a mind inferior to even the dumbest of my previous creations. But caught up in my rage and enlightenment I didn''t care. When I finally completed them, nothing happened. They simply stood on unliving legs and stared with dead eyes. Crying out in pain, I plunged my metaphysical hands into the depth of my very being and ripped out two great chunks of my eternal divinity. I shoved them into the vessels I had created and with a roar of pain severed my connection to them, fully giving them to my creations.

    For a moment there was silence, terrible silence as failure flew like an arrow towards my core.

    Only to be stopped by a single clenched fist.

    My creation opened his fist and closed it again, idly flexing the five long appendages emerging from his palm with curiosity that brought about a strange clenching in my chest.

    The second I saw that curiosity I knew.

    I had succeeded.

    The very universe shook as it rearranged itself to accommodate its first true inhabitants. Despite my exhaustion, a novel feeling to one such as me, joy and shock engulfed me as my creations began to move. Looking around in confusion they seemed to see me, and to my shock they reached out. Their communication was crude, nothing but weak impressions, but they communicated nonetheless. And they felt real, more real than anything I had ever created.

    Something in me stirred, almost like a memory reaching out to me, but when I reached out to it, it faded like mist on a summer day.

    Still, the barest spark of insight flared within me, urged on by my creations¡¯ attempts to communicate with me. It was a word. A meaning. A language.

    I reached out to my creations, and in an effort to calm, I named them.

    ¡°Henceforth, you shall be known as Humanity.¡±

    Those born of earthly rage, rather than heavenly grace.

    But that wasn''t enough for them. They pushed, asking for something. It took me an instant to deduce what they wanted.

    They wanted individual names.

    It filled me with joy to see them display such independence within the first moments of creation. I looked at their weak forms and pondered on their questions. They both had two legs and two arms connected to a torso, with a head full of hair crowning it. But one appeared hardier with visible muscles and strong bones while the other was a painting of gentle curves and full lips.

    And I knew their names.

    I manifested a form, similar to theirs, feeling a strange sense of familiarity as I stretched out my new form. I placed a hand on the hardier one¡¯s head.

    ¡°Adam¡±

    I turned to the other.

    ¡°Eve¡±

    I lingered for another instance, enjoying their presence before casting my body aside once more. It was not beckoning to stay.

    Still, I drowned in rapture. They were truly alive. Created in the image of me. I laughed, a thing of pure joy, and declared.

    ¡°No longer is creation uninhabited! Let life and joy usher in a new age!¡±

    The universe joined me in celebration, responding to my will.

    The stars shone brighter and the planets danced around them.

    For I was no longer alone.

 5 - Love

    Adam and Eve were special even beyond being the first humans. Their souls were pure, directly descended from God itself. Pure and powerful. When they finally found their path after being cast out of heaven they achieved miracles. They lived a simple and quiet life, and yet their legacy is the most powerful of human motivators. Their legacy is love and with it, they became the forefathers of an entire race. But not all their children shared that same pure potential. The further removed humanity became from their storied forefathers the more tainted and weaker they became. Until me. I am the pinnacle of their legacy, the mortal who combined their eternal souls within myself, the mortal who learned to love my people, flaws and all. And I shall not fail them. So long as I stand, so shall humanity.

    At first, Adam and Eve struggled. They faced the trials of the world and failed challenge after challenge. But they learned, and they grew. I watched in astonishment as they grew and grew and grew. Not merely intellectually or physically. I had seen countless beings pass them in those areas, but rather in the soul. As they failed task after task their monumentally powerful souls changed with them, the failures they endured changing them to better meet the challenge next time.

    And they changed faster than anything I had ever seen before. Faster than even I had grown, though I admittedly lacked the stimulus and necessity they did.

    In the early years they struggled and they starved. Stripped of their divine ability to communicate they needed to create words and language to express those words. But still they endured and the sun was always there to greet them upon every survived night. They began to succeed in some of their trials. Soon the fields were filled with crops and they slept under a sturdy roof. They took only what they needed and merely observed the world around them, often spending hours sitting in silence, staring across the vast plains that was their home.

    At first I was skeptical of their seemingly wasted time. How could such simple observations lead to what I wanted?

    But a closer look banished all my doubts.

    Throughout the time they spent observing together, something was growing. Something powerful. More powerful than should have been possible for them. It was mostly conceptual, an idea of togetherness and unity, tied into eternity and fate. I knew the second I saw it that this was the path forward for my creations. That this would be their legacy. The creation that would bring me a peer.

    So they watched the world and I watched them.

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    And through it all that mysterious force only grew.

    One morning, a day that will ever be imprinted in the fabric of my being, Adam looked out over the vast plains they had made their home, and the far-away mountains that towered over them. The sun rose over those mountains, a halo of golden light, swallowing the sky and forcing out the stars. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, his tanned muscles swelling as his long golden hair blew in the morning breeze. With a slow exhalation, he seems to cast aside all the doubt and fear. He slowly raised his head and looked the sun head-on, piercing through the veil of reality till he met my eyes with orbs of endless azure, and gazing into the expanse of infinity he spoke,

    ¡°Thank you, father. I did not understand, but now I do¡±

    I answered, ¡°And what do you understand¡±

    ¡°You cast us out, not as punishment, but so we could find our own path.¡±

    ¡°And have you found it?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡± he answered with quiet conviction.

    ¡°And what is that path?¡±

    ¡°Mortality. Mortality and love. I shall die only for my children to carry on. And they shall perish only for their children to carry on. Cycle after cycle shall it continue, each generation standing on the shoulders of the previous, drawing on their love and power until all has been done.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°Again. And again and again¡±

    ¡°To what purpose¡±

    Adam smiled, a deep genuine expression of the purest joy,

    ¡°To live. To love. To die. All are glorious.¡±

    I will admit, I was confused. I did not understand what love was and I did not understand the glory of nonexistence. I did not even understand glory. But most of all I did not understand how Adam was to have children. It had taken me, god himself, eons to discover the secrets of creating true life, of creating children. How could they possibly do so before time claimed them?

    Adam''s smile only deepened,

    ¡°Watch father. Soon you too will have peers and then you too will join the eternal cycle.¡±

    Adam went back inside the hut, went back to Eve and I felt that power between them swell and shift. Together they guided it through themselves, forming a conduit for something greater. And a third soul joined them. One nearly as powerful as them. The world froze, time seeming to stop. For the first time in my eternal existence, I was truly shocked. Adam and Eve had accomplished the work of Eons in only a few years. This was an eternal legacy, one that even their children would possess, as well as all that came after. They would each stride forward on the shoulders of the other and together they would reach higher than any before them.

    This was a legacy worthy of all my children and all my children to come.

    I would never be alone.

    And neither would they.

 6 - Children

    Love is a double-edged sword. A quality I have ample experience with. To love someone is to let them into your heart. To give them a clear shot at the core of yourself. To love everyone is pain, for someone is always hurting. Adam and Eve understood this, understood the plight of the lovers. They lived for love and died with it. Their power was love. And so is mine.

    That day was the last I ever spoke to Adam. In the creation of the child they had confirmed their path, and in doing so cast aside the last shreds of their divinity. Adam and Eve were content with this. Their son, Michael, grew up not knowing where his parents came from. But he was content, frolicking in the fields with the rest of his numerous siblings. They grew up in peace and quiet. Basking in the love and affection of their parents, and the beauty of the land they called home.

    It was beautiful to watch.

    For so long I had looked at things on the grand scale of eons. The way the eternal reign of time inevitably stripped even singularities to nothing, the endless dance of stars and gravity, but here was something even more beautiful. The way love held them all together was stronger than gravity could ever be and shone with a light greater than any star. It was intoxicating. They grew in peace, knowing nothing but love and each other. But It couldn''t last. Adam called them to him. All twenty-seven children gathered in front of the main house, led by Micheal.

    Adam looked upon them with a faint sense of sadness. He loved every one of his children with all of his heart. They were his life and they would be his death. He didn¡¯t want to do it but he knew it was necessary. They would never become who they were destined to be otherwise. He sighed, and spoke,

    ¡°My children. Your time in this house has come to an end¡±

    Michael, ever the first to act, replied ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It''s time for you to seek out your own paths in the world. When Eve and I were young our father cast us out so that we could find our paths. Now it''s time for you to find yours¡±

    ¡°Path?¡± Micheal questioned.

    Adam smiled. ¡°There is more to this life than mere existence. Higher things to embody. Greater things to become. Outside¡±---he spread his arms and threw his head back to the sky before looking back¡ª¡±you can find those things. Become them.¡±

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    Orion, one of the more impetus children stepped forward. ¡°And what''s your path? All you do is farm.¡±

    Adam¡¯s smile deepened at that, ¡°You all are my path. You all carry my legacy.¡±

    Even Orion was silenced by that, and for a time there was quiet as everyone processed that.

    ¡°And what is that legacy?¡± Michael questioned.

    Adam¡¯s smile deepened, taking on a distant quality, ¡°Love. I don¡¯t know much of the world, but I know everything of love. And I taught you all I know. Love is the force by which the impossible becomes impossible, it is the force by which the greatest of creations are born¡±

    ¡°And what are those creations?¡±

    ¡°Children. You were all born of Eve and I¡¯s love, and soon children will be born of your love. The cycle will continue till love consumes all¡±

    There was silence again as they mulled over those words. They didn''t want to leave their parents, but at the same time they felt the tugging.

    The call to adventure that all men feel at one time or another.

    The longing to find something more.

    Michael was the first to express their thoughts, ¡°Very well. I have been feeling stifled here lately. Come, my brothers and sisters. It is time to discover our paths.¡±

    With those words, Micheal turned around and began to walk away from the little farm. Slowly one by one the rest of the children followed.

    Finally, only Hestia remained, looking between her father and her siblings with a torn expression.

    ¡°Go on, my love.¡± Adam encouraged with a gentle smile, even as his heart broke.

    She reached over and hugged him, before charging after her sibling with reckless abandon.

    Adam watched, his heart straining a little more with every step they took. He smiled wider than ever before, a expression both devastated and exultant,

    ¡°Our path had been walked¡± he whispered ¡°It''s time for them to walk theirs¡±

    Soon all that was left was Adam and Eve, just like in the beginning.

    Later that night Adam and Eve died in each other''s arms, their paths complete and their purpose fulfilled.

    I watched as their souls rose somewhere beyond even me, and gathering the last residual traces of their paths I pressed them into the sun.

    They had given birth to humanity and they would nurture them for an eternity more.

    The cycle would never end.

 7 - Away From Home

    The children of Adam and Eve, the first true humans spread out across the new world. Each was powerful and competent in their own right, and versed on the power of humans, the power of love they had no boundaries. They spread out across the earth like water over the barren soil, and everywhere they went they brought change, encouraging the spring shoots of ideas and order. It was the first age of humanity and its greatest. Every human was a paragon of humanity and everyone knew their path. We have lost so much since that golden age. Technology may have advanced beyond all reason but in the process, we lost what it means to be human. We lost love and we lost purpose. We are the children of Adam and we must reclaim our birthright.

    Michael panted as they reached the summit of the mountain that had loomed over them for so long. One by one his siblings stumbled over the horizon and collapsed at the ground near his feet. But Micheal remained standing, staring into the distant horizon as his breathing calmed. At long last all his siblings had arrived and he addressed them.

    ¡°Behold!¡± he boomed ¡°Our future¡±

    The children looked into that horizon and I looked with them. Beyond the mountain was a land that seemed to stretch for eternity, at least for those sheltered children. Deserts we splashed like specks of paint on the overbearingly green canvas. Massive bodies of azure water opened up holes into the world below and overhead the sun scorched it all. Mountains and plains. Forests and deserts. Icelands and seas. Even I was momentarily taken aback at the sight of what I had created. It felt good to see another gaze upon the magnificence I had created and see that same beauty.

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    Micheal continued ¡°Here we will discover our paths! Here we will be forged into something new! Here we will b-¡±

    He stopped as he realized the others had already taken off down the mountain.

    ¡°Hey, I was talking!¡± he shouted as he charged after them.

    I chuckled, then paused. These emotions were¡­ strange to me. I had experienced before the rage of failure and the joy of creation, but only in their purest, rawest forms. This spectrum of countless, interconnected emotions the humans seemed capable of expressing was new to me. But they were created in my image, and anything they could feel so could I. I turned my attention back to the children just as Micheal caught up and tackled Hestia, ever the slowest. Hestia let out an adorable squeal as they went tumbling down that mountain, tanned limbs flying. I chuckled again, this time embracing the emotion running over me. The children frolicked below.

    The weeks passed, and the children explored this new world, led by Michael and his quest for something none of the others seemed to understand.

    Slowly, individuals and small groups began to split off as they discovered avenues to explore and began to venture into them. Ceres discovered a fertile plot of land and began to farm it, joined by Dio and his obsession with sweets. Orion fell in love with the art of the hunt, joined by Artemis as they roamed the endless wilds, in search of prey. Sol rushed away in furious pursuit of the sun.

    Throughout it all, Micheal pressed forward relentlessly in his search for something, accompanied by Hestia and a few others. They had yet to find their paths in the boundless wilderness. Finally, Micheal stopped. They were in a large grassland, an expanse of gently rustling reeds. A river lazily drifted through it. I¡¯ll admit, I was curious as to why he stopped here of all places, but he took that secret to his grave.

    ¡°Here¡± he said, voice ringing with command ¡°Here will the first bastion of Humanity be born¡±.

 8 - Sol

    Sol was the child of the sun. And like the sun, he was brilliant. Separate. Above. The myths recall him chasing the sun with unbreakable intent, seeking something that even I can only guess. He was the warden against the encroaching dark, a living reminder, that no matter the terror, no matter the fear, the sun will always rise. A new day will always come. I wonder how one comes to possess such power, such ethos. Mine was earned through ages of study and life. I wonder where his came from?

    The last rays of the burning dusk retreated beyond the horizon, lighting the sky on fire in its passing. Slowly but surely, the vivid orange of the sun''s final gleam began to give way, falling before the encroaching night. Sol, as always, refused to acknowledge the creeping dark, pushing his body further than ever before, the shadow of last night''s terror spurring him onward.

    But for all his might, all his power, Sol could not outrun the night.

    It unfurled above him like a sail catching the wind, lurching forward with ever-increasing speed as the sun drifted further away. The world zoomed by Sol, his long golden hair streaming out behind him, gilded eyes wide with horror.

    Then, like the thousand eyes of an eldritch god, the stars appeared, twinkling with maddening light. The moon presided over them all, spearing Sol with argent rays. The cold hands of darkness seized Sol, squeezing him in their iron grip. Their eldritch fingers traced incomprehensible patterns along his bare skin.

    Sol tripped, tumbling into the beige sand beneath him. He rolled, and struggling to get back to his feet, he roared in fury as if trying to drive back the night with the force of his rage alone.

    He roared for what seemed like hours, the occasional spark of light appearing around him, only to be snuffed out by the everpresent gloom. Slowly, his roar transformed, the rage slipping out of him, quickly replaced with growing terror.

    The world may have remembered him as the god of the sun, but I remembered him as something different.

    There, in the middle of the desert, beset on all sides by the eldritch darkness, Sol, son of Adam, without his parents for the first time in his young life, curled up into a ball and began to sob.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    He was still quietly sobbing in the morning, his cries only quieted by the growing lightness of the world.

    Raising tear-stained eyes to the horizon, he witnessed the slow onset of rosy pink, forcing its way through an increasingly thin darkness. Exhaustion forgotten, he watched intently as the sky turned into a kaleidoscope of colors and dawn arrived on its throne.

    The sight filled him with desire, like a sun of his own burning in his core.

    Father had commanded him to seek his path, to embody something higher.

    Staring at the sun a thought struck him.

    What was higher than the sun?

    Excitement filled him, and he took a single resolute step toward the sun, determined to reach it by all means necessary.

    He was out before he finished the step, his night full of terror finally taking its toll.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------

    He woke at high noon, basking in heat that would roast a lesser creature. His gilded eyes pierced the overhead sun without flinching and he slowly climbed to his feet, refreshed by the hours under the energizing sunbeams.

    Stretching, he recalled his moment of insight upon witnessing the break of day.

    All his life, his parents had held him through the night, acting as suns of their own, tiding him through the worst of the black.

    But now they were gone, leaving him without light in the dark.

    Basking in the heat of the sun, he thought he felt their presence, their love.

    And he refused to give it up again.

    Slowly at first, he began to walk in the direction experience indicated the sun would travel to.

    Then jog.

    Then run.

    Soon, he was tearing across the desert, chasing the sun itself.

    It seemed impossible, yet Sol had never felt more alive.

    He would seize its light.

    Then he would never have to be in the dark again.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    Sol¡¯s life fell into a pattern.

    Chase the sun through the afternoon and dusk.

    Cower through the night.

    Sleep through the morning.

    The days zoomed by, blending into a canvas of light and darkness. Somewhere along the way, the sandy desert gave way to wide open plains. Sol fared better here, able to use that grass to obscure the maddening twinkling of the stars. After the grasslands came mountains, hastening the disappearance of the sun. Sol conquered them in record time and rested for a day at the peak. The entire world seemed to stretch out below him, a tapestry of vivid greens and muted browns. And at the end of it was an endless expanse of blue where the land ceded to the sea. It was distant but worrying. The sea would be the end of his journey.

    He needed to seize the sun before he reached it.

    He pushed himself harder than ever before, the forests and savannas alike fading into a single all-encompassing blur as even time seemed to fade away.

    All that was left was Sol and his Sun.

    ¡ª--------------------------------

    The sea stretched out before Sol, an endless expanse of crashing waves and frothing waters. As the sun vanished behind its horizon, Sol despaired, falling to his knees and crying out.

    ¡°Father! Please! Come back! Don''t leave me in the dark!¡±

    But Adam was gone, and the sun was unconcerned with the matters of mortals.

    Stuck at an impasse, Sol began to scour his mind for ideas with all the fervor of a man pushed to his very limit. And found nothing. Despair overtaking him he succumbed to the sweet embrace of sleep.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

    He awoke to the dawn, for the first time fully refreshed at the onset of daybreak. With a clear mind, he stretched, looking over the sea for his beloved sun.

    Only to find nothing there.

    He froze, slowly turning away from the white sand and gentle waves, and behind him, peeking over the lands he had just come from, was the crest of dawn. For a second, he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing, then laughed as his desperate mind grasped onto the only conclusion it saw.

    He had been going the wrong way!

    Without another second to spare, Sol began to run back to where he came from.

    Chasing the sun.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

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    Sol traveled for weeks, chasing the rosy-fingered dawn through desert and forest, savanna and tundra. Only to arrive at another sea. And like the last time, he let despair lure him into a troubled sleep, only to wake to see the sun behind him.

    And once more his desperate mind grasped onto the only conclusion he could conceive of.

    He had been going the wrong way!

    And once more Sol set out, chasing the sun.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    It is truly amazing the lengths Sol went in a futile task, all to avoid admitting it was a futile task. So consumed as he was by his fear of the dark, his mind became narrow, focused only on one solution.

    And in that narrowing, he lost touch with the beauty of the world.

    And the brilliance of the sun.

    To him, all became a canvas of fear and desperation, the world reduced to a canvas of black with a single speck of brilliant light, neglecting the beautiful patterns in the dark.

    Yet, try as he might, he could not obscure his nascent shine.

    Man learns through experience, and trapped in his haze of fear, the only thing Sol truly experienced was the sun. And lacking the guidance of any other sort, he began to unconsciously imitate it, becoming a sun of his own as he retraced its steps, desperately trying to drive back the night with screams and howls.

    To be the sun was to shine, and it was becoming apparent that Sol was shining as he tore across that land.

    He just didn''t know it yet.

    As I watched him traverse the narrow strip of land he roamed, over and over again, standing on the precipice of enlightenment, I decided to intervene.

    After all, he was my grandson.

    I felt warm inside as I guided him to Thoth.

    Maybe he could help.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

    Sol burst through the undergrowth in a blur, golden hair fanning out behind him in a halo of sunbeams. He under a branch and flexed his legs, narrowly vaulting through two more, refusing to be stopped by mere trees.

    The sun could not be restrained.

    Rays of late-noon light filtered through the dense canopy above, lighting the path before him, though he had long memorized the way. For a second, he felt light, free, and powerful. He felt like the sun, streaking its way across the sky.

    ¡°SOL!¡±

    Sol stumbled in shock, barely managing to keep from crashing into the undergrowth.

    ¡°Sol! It really is you!¡±

    A nearby bush rattled and parted to reveal a young man, about Sol¡¯s age, with rich chocolate skin and finger-length black hair. Sol swallowed, trying to warm up his rusty vocal cords.

    ¡°Thoth?¡±

    The man, Thoth, smiled and enveloped Sol in a hug before pulling back and gazing at him with concerned eyes. ¡°Where have you been? We¡¯ve been worried.¡±

    Sol¡¯s voice was rusty with disuse as he spoke. ¡°Chasing the sun.¡±

    Thoth frowned. ¡°Still afraid of the dark?¡±

    Sol nodded silently.

    Thoth sighed. ¡°Sol, why did you go? Hestia had a plan for that, to help without father and mother.¡±

    Sol shrugged.

    ¡°Do you want to go to her now? I can show you the way.¡±

    Sol shook his head.

    Thoth frowned, taking in his state. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Sol nodded, more firmly this time.

    ¡°Well, at least tell me what you¡¯ve been doing.¡±

    Sol thought for a second, then nodded and began to speak. His voice was rusty at first but rapidly gained confidence as he talked. He told Thoth about the dark and the sun. About things he had experienced chasing the sun. About how he kept going the wrong way.

    By the end, Thoth was frowning. He sighed. ¡°Sol, come here.¡±---he patted the rock next to him¡ª¡± I need to tell you something.¡±

    Sol sat and Thoth put an arm around his shoulder. ¡°Sol, my brother, you¡¯re going the wrong way. The world is a sphere, and the sun revolves around it. If you want to reach the sun, you must go up. Higher than even the tallest mountains.¡±

    Sol¡¯s breathing quickened, but he could come up with no retort. Thoth had never been wrong, and his words confirmed the suspicions he had been hiding deep within.

    Still, he couldn''t give up without at least a token resistance. ¡°But the sun is straight ahead at the beginning and end of the day.¡±

    ¡°And where is it at noon?¡±

    The world seemed to constrict as Sol was stripped of his last shreds of hope.

    He would never escape the darkness.

    ¡°W¡­What do I do Thoth?¡± he whispered, ¡°I cannot live like this. Father said to find our paths. I think the sun is mine, but I cannot reach it. I''m lost¡±

    Small tears began to trickle from his eyes as low sobs resounded through the forest. Thoth comforted him, whispering sweet nonsense and holding him. When the sobs finally retreated, the despair remained.

    ¡°What do I do Thoth?¡±

    Thoth was quiet as he took in his brother''s plight before finally seeming to come to a conclusion. ¡°Father did say to find our paths. But he also told us to embody higher things. To become greater things.¡±---he looked at Sol¡ª¡±if you cannot catch the sun, then become the sun.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You already streak across the land like the sun, fight the darkness like it as well. Why not go all the way?¡±

    ¡°But how?¡±

    ¡°That''s for you to find out.¡±

    I could see the gears turning in Sol¡¯s head as the closing of one possibility opened another. Finally, he smiled. It was tentative at first but bloomed into completion as he warmed up to the possibility.

    ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    Sol¡¯s only answer was a brilliant smile.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    Sol looked down at the world from up high. It unfolded before him a canvas of color and life, populated by a myriad of diverse creatures. The sun shone behind him, ringing his head in a halo of light. He stood at the top of the tallest mountain he had ever discovered, which he had named Altus

    Sighing, he sat down and closed his eyes, blocking out the cold wind around him. In his mind, the sun appeared, illuminating the cosmos. Each day it traversed the length of the world, granting glorious light. When it was around, the darkness dared not encroach.

    Thoth''s words had struck a chord with him. If he could not catch the sun, he must become it. And the sun could not be afraid of the dark.

    When night came, Sol could feel it in the absence of the sun. But he clung to the image of the sun in his mind, using it to chase out the fear like the sun chased away the night. The eldritch fingers of the night reached out but found themselves stopped by a soft glow, barely even visible. Nothing like the sun.

    But it was a start.

    That night, Sol trembled and whimpered, but he did not cry.

    The next night, he did the same.

    Then the next.

    For forty nights he did this, closing his eyes and letting the sun supplant the gloom.

    On the eve of the fortieth, his glow was clear and strong, illuminating his body and the nearby rocks. When he opened his eyes, they were clear, devoid of fear.

    That night, he did not close his eyes, instead opting to match the night head-on. As dusk fell, he began to tremble, cowing in the face of the thousand haunting eyes of the stars. He desperately held his conception of the sun in his mind¡¯s eye, but with his eyes open it was not so easy to ignore reality. Sol felt the foundation of his courage rapidly being eroded by the wild waters of fear and panic. But, just when it seemed he would falter, his light made itself present, spreading out of him in a soft golden glow.

    Sol gaped in shock before a surge of exultance flared his light even higher. Thoth had been right! He could become the sun!

    The night still loomed at large but now, Sol pushed back with his own light, no longer afraid but excited with every foot he reclaimed.

    He spent another 40 nights staring into the dark and forcing his light into it.

    By now, his light was blinding, but it still felt short of lighting up the sky like the true sun.

    To be honest, it was an absurd goal. Something only the children of Adam, with their pure and powerful souls could consider attempting.

    At least until HER.

    On the final night, the eighty-first, Sol looked down on the world below him and tried to bring his light to them, trying to reach out to those who struggled with the dark. His light illuminated Altus and the nearby mountains, but it fell short beyond them. Sol felt like he had hit a wall. It was no longer enough to blindly push back against the inching shadows.

    He needed something more.

    As he searched for that missing piece, he found himself retracing his journey. From a scared boy to an intrepid adventurer to a devoted supplicant to what he was now, on the verge of something greater. In the beginning, fear had driven him, inspiring a young boy to chase the sun itself. And despite the wonder and desire that had manifested itself, that fear had never left him. Sol traced that thought, finding the last small kernel of fear hiding in the depths of his heart.

    It was like a rock in his chest, weighing him down and preventing him from seeking the sky. The sun shone fearlessly, unburdened by the weight of mortal life.

    And only without this seed of fear could Sol do the same.

    Yet it was surprisingly difficult, ridding himself of the fear that had accompanied him his entire life.

    It was familiar, comfortable. It was part of him.

    With it, he knew what to expect. What he was becoming was new. It was brilliant but also painful. Wild and free and bright.

    His father''s sad smile came to mind. Only now did he understand it. To walk one''s path is pain, change always is, but in the end, it leaves one greater than before.

    When all is obscured in darkness, it is only by igniting oneself that can one truly see.

    With that last thought, Sol burned his fear, letting it become fuel for his transformation.

    He became light, and light became him.

    And there, in the middle of the night, the sun rose.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------

 9 - Sidon

    Humanity is not a part of nature. It''s a strange distinction to make but more important than most will ever know. To be a part of nature is to exist. To be human is to live. And to have a reason to do so. According to the records of the ancient, unreliable as they may be, Sidon, lord of the sea and storm, was the first to see this. He conquered the seven seas, putting his life above their existence, as surely as he sailed atop their waves. To him, the sea existed in a myriad of states, raging and calming. Swilling and stilling. But it did so passionlessly, purposely. It merely existed. Sidon lived. And so do I.

    The ocean roared, and Sidon roared with it. Wild laughter spilled out of him as his small ship crested the wave and plunged down the other side. He quickly threw his weight to the other side, grabbing the mast as he plunged his hand into the water, forcing his boat to turn parallel to the wave.

    And there, in the middle of the roaring thunder and torrential downpour, Sidon, son of Adam, surfed the primordial waves.

    Another wave appeared, as if angered by Sidon¡¯s joy in the face of their majesty. It was taller than any Sidon had ever seen, rising to the sky as if it sought to tear down the stars themselves. Sidon only laughed louder, as if delighted it had come to play with him. He looked like an ant before it, his olive skin slick with seawater and sweat, straight black hair pasted to his nape. His ship was nothing more than a few planks thrown together with reed rope and a woven reed sail, barely sea worthy. But his green eyes shone.

    With a quick movement, he straightened his boat and turned off the wave he was surfing. With rapturous eyes he faced the oncoming giant. It came like an endless wall, rising several hundred feet in the air. When Sidon reached it it was nearly vertical, but he refused to let it deter him. With a pull of the crude rudder, he angled the boat slightly, using the surging wind to begin the upward climb. Drawing on the full weight of his experience, he tacked his way up the nearly vertical wave, with nothing but the wind to urge him on.

    He soon passed an invisible threshold, entering the realm of clouds. Visibility vanished into a hazy fog, occasionally illuminated by brilliant bolts of lightning. Some struck perilously close, sending jolts through Sidon¡¯s limbs. His eyes grew wilder with every strike, until at last they burst through the top of the clouds, revealing the enlightened world above.

    The sun still shone up here, brilliant against the dark rumbling clouds below him. The scene was set, a sea of stormy sun-illuminated clouds hid the bottom of the gray wave that still threatened to swallow Sidon whole. A breeze caught his sail and with one last wrench, the sail tore.

    But not before giving him a final burst of motion.

    Sidon burst through the wave like an ascending angel, water spreading out behind him like a pair of wings. He reached for the distant sun like a starving man grasping at food. For a single moment, he hung, arm-outstretched, verdant eyes illuminated by the sun he refused to tear his gaze from. Then he fell to the other side, still stormy despite the massive wave having consumed the clouds itself.

    He surfed back into the raging sea, sailless, facing the storm with what was essentially a piece of wood.

    His smile only grew wider.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    Sidon finished pulling the last reed, and stepped back to admire his newly patched sail. He was getting better, though he supposed that was the only outcome of having to do this weekly. He was lucky that so many variations of the reeds he used for his sails existed.

    He tilted his head back to the noon sun, sighing contentedly.

    He had braved storms and calm seas both. Towering waves and subtle currents.

    And. now, the first sea was almost conquered.

    Sidon¡¯s laughter rang across the open air.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    The waves rose to the heavens, sweeping away swaths of the stormy clouds to reveal beams of golden light. The world became a patchwork of light and shadow, punctuated by brilliant lighting and skyscraping waves.

    Sidon¡¯s small boat was an ant before them. But his motion betrayed nothing but calm experience as he prepared to face the sea¡¯s fury once more.

    As he sailed across the waves, the seeds of excitement shone, but they were dampened with the weight of experience.

    These waves no longer posed any threat to him, and as he cut through them like a sword through flesh, watery blood flying in every direction, he couldn''t help but feel the first hints of disappointment.

    He missed the excitement, the challenge. When the sea had pushed him to his very limits. When time fell away in the face of the overbearing will to survive.

    He missed it.

    As he conquered the storm with practiced calm, a storm of his own raged within.

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    ¡ª------------------------------

    Sidon lay on his back, staring at the stars above. Unlike his brother, Sidon loved the stars. They were pathfinders to him when he got lost, and friends when he was lonely. He talked to them sometimes, and I listened for them.

    I never spoke, of course. I didn¡¯t want to influence his path. But sometimes, all somebody needs is someone to listen.

    ¡°I¡¯m worried.¡± Sidon confided to the stars. ¡°I am changing and growing. Finding my way just as Father told us to. I have conquered 3 of the seven seas, sailed for months on end. My boats are stronger, my skills more polished, and my body stronger. Yet the sea¡­ the sea is the same.¡±

    He sighed.

    ¡°It used to be so big. So endless. Something I could lose myself in. Now¡­ I have conquered half of them. And the rest will put up no more resistance than the first.¡±

    For a time he was silent, lost in his own thoughts. When he next spoke it was a whisper, the whisper of a child afraid he had seen the end.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t they grow with me? Why don¡¯t they change? What separates us?¡±

    I had no answers for him.

    He stayed with the stars till the sun rose.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------

    The sea was empty for as far as the eye could see.

    Once, Sidon had considered the sea itself enough to qualify as something. But increasingly, the sea seemed to fade into the background, becoming nothing more than the canvas on which his story played out.

    He began to question his goal.

    What was the glory in conquering the seas? They were static. Empty.

    Where was the challenge?

    He no longer knew why he sailed, only that he had to finish what he started.

    The winds picked up, casting ripples through the ocean as if it were a mere puddle. It caught Sidon¡¯s sail and cast him forth with greater momentum, leaving a v-shaped trail in his wake.

    Ahead of him, clouds gathered ominously, lit by the occasional flash of lighting.

    Sidon sighed.

    Just another day.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    Another clear night of stargazing.

    Sidon¡¯s eyes were clouded as drowned in the maelstrom of his thoughts.

    ¡°What separates us?¡±

    He rolled over and dipped his hand into the sea.

    ¡°The sea exists. It moves. It contains life. So what separates us?¡±

    He hesitated. ¡°What separates me?¡±

    The stars gave no answer.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    The faint line of the coast stretched out in front of Sidon. The last coast. Once he set foot on it, he would have finally conquered the seven seas.

    He approached cautiously, waiting for the sea to strike out with some sort of final blow. Waiting for the final moment of resistance before the end. An ember in his heart stirred at the thought, but was quickly extinguished by the lack of such resistance.

    The sand was wet under his feet. It felt like sand pure and simple. Sidon mechanically hauled his boat onto the shore and away from the sea. Then, he sprawled in the sand and stared out at the sea. He had imagined this day for ages. Felt the victorious joy surging through him, pictured crying out in triumph.

    But it just felt like another day.

    He gazed out at the sea, imagining his sibling somewhere across it. He hadn''t seen them for years. He wondered what they were doing. He wondered if they felt the same way.

    Tired.

    At the moment, there was joy in Sidon, no anger, no impatience. He simply existed. Just like the sea.

    He remembered the beginning, before he had grown into something the sea stood no chance again. The fear and joy both. The adrenaline of facing a wave no man had the right to face. The uncertainty of not knowing where the next slice of land was. He had lived in those moments, pushed to his limits in pursuit of a greater concept.

    He chuckled, enlightenment finally reaching him. That was what separated him from the sea, or had.

    The sea merely existed, and that existence defined it.

    Man lived, pushed to his limits in the pursuit of a higher purpose.

    Sidon sighed. It had been a long time since he had lived, his purpose stripped by the sea¡¯s lack of resistance. Maybe that''s why he felt so empty.

    He was a purposeless man, a boat without a sail.

    But he had rebuilt sails, ones worn out by use and destroyed by storms both. Why couldn''t he build himself another?

    Still, he wondered.

    Was this all to life? Building sail after sail to what? He had tried that, and now he was alone in the middle of nowhere, sailess once more. He wondered what he would find if he made another sail and set out once more. The things he would find and the sights he would see.

    Perhaps there was more to it after all.

    He got up, a faint smile playing on his lips. The embers within him stirred, cajoling the flame of life from its long sleep. Warmth spread through his body once more, like a man seeing the sun after ages in the dark.

    Nature exists. Man lives.

    And under the flame of life, Sidon felt ethereal winds guiding his flame to something new, binding them to a new purpose.

    He didn¡¯t know what, only that he now had another sea to sail and another after that.

    He knew not where he was going, but that was ok.

    Nature exists. Man lives.

    What else could they do?

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

 10 - Arrows of the Moon

    In the early ages, humanity was not alone in sapience. It''s a truth well-hidden, suspiciously well-hidden. I suspect divine intervention. But regardless, the fact remains. Ten-headed hydras and flesh-eating horses alike wandered the wilds, drawing power from their very blood. Monstrosities best forgotten. They terrorized the untouched places, vying with the children of Adam for control of the new world. But despite their sapience, the majority lacked sentience, true souls, deriving power from profane blood. For a time, at the beginning, it seemed like the world was big enough for them both. But a dragon''s greed is not to be underestimated, nor a hunter''s skill. And paper beasts cannot obstruct forged paths.

    The night was dark, except for the faint gleaming of the moon. It arced through the gaps in the dark foliage in hair-thin strands. The occasional ray caught Artemis¡¯ silver hair and sent light refracting through the dark forest. Orion cringed with every burst of light, regretting his decision to tell Artemis not to cover her hair.

    Then it would catch her body just right, framing her slender limbs and stormy gray eyes in a halo of silver, and he would forget all his protests.

    Sure, their prey might spot them, but it was worth it.

    Then the light would catch her at a bad angle and the struggle would start all over again.

    A light crunch caught his attention and he looked down to find a crushed branch under his foot. He winced and looked over to find Artemis staring admonishingly at him. He flushed and angrily refocused himself.

    This was a hunt. And nobody hunted better than he did. Then they did, he thought, shooting a glance at Artemis. She just rolled her eyes and motioned for him to be more careful.

    Their prey was a curious specimen, one of the new ones that had emerged from the depths, a prey of a higher caliber. They were smart, almost as smart as he and his brothers in some ways, yet dumb as animals in certain ways. Of course that paled in comparison to their mighty physical forms.

    Every single one they had faced had forced them to their limits, drawing them deep into the essence of their paths to smite them down. And they were hunters, born to slay such beasts. It was worrying, but at the same time exciting.

    For they finally had worthy prey.

    A faint scuffing brought his attention back. Artemis froze to his left. And they both scoured their surroundings. Artemis let the moonlight play around her fingers, listening to its tales. Orion breathed in deep, tasting the wind. In the end, their senses agreed.

    Their prey was directly ahead.

    Through tacit agreement, they split apart, each circling around their prey the long way. They would strike from two sides at once.

    The wind gently circled Orion as he crept through the bushes, telling him stories of happenings deeper in the forest. It calmed him, grounded him, and slowed his beating heart.

    Finally, he found a suitable tree and quietly scaled it before finding a branch and checking to make sure it would hold his weight. He unslung his wooden bow and strung it with a string of animal sinew. Below him, barely visible through the thick foliage, a shape moved, appearing confused. It was probably searching for them after Orion¡¯s amateurish mistake with the stick.

    He grumbled. Not his fault Artemis was so distracting.

    He took a deep breath and slowly nocked a metal-tipped arrow. He was running low. He would need to bother Hephas for more.

    An argent flash drew his attention.

    It was time.

    For a second, the stars seemed to fall to the earth, only to resolve into silver arrows. Then in absolute silence, the lady of the moon struck. Arrows brimming with the cold conception of the moon pierced the beast by the dozen, slowing its movements and inflicting it with the cold chill of death.

    A roar split the silent night, and as the beast trashed the surrounding foliage to oblivion, Orion finally got a good view of it. It is big and green and angry. It had scales like a lizard and stretched nearly a hundred beet from long. But most striking was its nine heads, all in a state of disarray as it struggled to find the origin of its pain. The foliage around it hissed as its venomous aura ground it to ash, and even Artemis¡¯ arrows began to deform under it.

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    Still, Artemis kept showering it with arrows, each individually weak in comparison to its bulk, but mighty when combined. They impacted in waves, some dissolving against its flared aura, some going forth to pierce flesh. It roared and spun around as it tried to find them.

    In a nearby tree, Orion calmly drew his bow back to its fullest, feeling the tension in his body as he did so. The wind swirled around him as he did so, gathering around its tip. He took a deep breath and released.

    The arrow was so fast, it couldn''t be seen.

    One moment the beast had nine heads.

    Then it had eight.

    Then it had ten.

    Orion nearly fell off the branch as he saw two heads regrow where there was once one. Artemis must have been equally surprised because the flow of silver arrows faltered before resuming once more. For a second, the beast had drawn upon greater concepts of rebirth and regeneration, warping the world to its whims. Such an act was the domain of the pathed. How could such a dumb animal wield such a potent power, Orion wondered.

    He felt anger growing within him. How dare a mere beast resist his arrow?

    When he drew his bow again, he drew it past the safe limits. His body trembled as he focused the full weight of his being on the arrow, forcing it to become a vessel of his path.

    He was the lord of the hunt, and he would not be denied.

    The branch creaked, and when he released the arrow, bucked. It flew true, faster than the eye could track. Another head vanished, but this time, the stump smoked, cauterized by the power of Orion''s arrow, abstractions of death and the hunt countering its regeneration.

    No heads grew back that time.

    Orion smiled grimly and nocked another arrow. It was released to the same effect.

    The beast started to charge in his direction, having somehow pinpointed his location from arrows faster than the eye could see. Artemis started shooting faster, trying to slow the beast further with the chill of the moon.

    Orion smiled and fired an arrow to the side.

    In the wrong direction.

    But he was the lord of the hunt, and he did not miss.

    The arrow curved in the air, severing another head from the side. The beast stopped, confused. Orion curved another arrow and struck it from the other side. It roared into the air, a curious mixture of low and high pitches that almost sounded like language before gazing around suspiciously with its remaining six heads.

    Another arrow took off a head from the back, reducing it to five heads.

    Panicked and down to half of its heads, the beast resolutely stuck to its path and resumed his charge towards Orion.

    He managed to get two more shots off before it crashed into his tree and saw him. He was forced to dance through a sea of lunging heads, wincing at the drops of apparently acidic blood that landed on his skin. Its aura pressed against his, but he managed to hold back its acidic properties with a swirling wind. Still, it was fast, despite the fact Artemis had nearly halved its speed, and Orion could barely keep out of its grasping jaws.

    Artemis managed to shoot an eye, giving Orion enough of a respite to gather the wind into a platform underneath his foot and push off into the sky.

    Rotating in the air, he nocked an arrow and loosened it, watching as it vanished into the sky and curved down, covered in silver moonlight.

    Another head tumbled to the ground.

    As he reached the apex of his jump, he launched another, watching as it desperately tried to dodge. But alas Orion never missed.

    Another head tumbled to the ground. One left.

    The joy of the hunt surged through Orion, bringing primal pleasure to him as started to fall, an arrow on his string.

    Artemis intensified her fire, a silver storm raging arrows the newly created clearing. In the eye of the storm, Orion fell towards the beast''s final head.

    It met his joyous gaze with cruel cunning.

    Cunning?

    The wind brought news of a danger the second before it struck.

    Orion loosened his arrow, no longer caring for its intended target. Artemis cried out. Orion desperately managed to get his bow up, desperately stepping off the wind in an attempt to avoid doom.

    It almost worked.

    The creature''s tail only clipped him, but it struck like the hand of god, shattering his bow and sending him flying.

    The creature was on him in a second, single remaining eye triumphant. Orion cursed his insistence on fighting the beast up close and gathered the winds to him for the final confrontation.

    Only for a silver slash to sunder the world.

    The creature''s last head slowly toppled off its neck, regeneration suppressed by the layer of frost coating its stump.

    Artemis rode its corpse as its legs gave out, silver hair and pale skin outline in a halo of moonlight. She held an argent-drenched blade in her left hand. Her hunting leathers were torn and sullied but she was untouched. She was beautiful.

    Orion gaped.

    She rolled her eyes and chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± She jumped off the hydra and landed before him, extending a hand to him. ¡°I think we¡¯ve had enough excitement for today.¡±

    He took it.

 10.2 - The Hunt

    Their little clearing came into view, illuminated in the rosy colors of the morning sun streaming through the thin foliage. The tall grass around their sleeping mats swayed in the gentle breeze, listening to it tell stories of the small creek gurgling. Orion nearly collapsed at the sight, his broken rib screaming at him to stop moving. He felt Artemis¡¯ exceptant smirk, and narrowing his eyes, refused to sit down.

    And sure as the rising of the sun, she struck.

    ¡°Sure you don''t wanna take a break? You took quite the hit.¡±

    Orion gritted his teeth silently. ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± she sang, practically dancing around him, silver hair shining in the dawn light. He almost stumbled before catching himself. ¡°Yes,¡± he snapped back.

    When he finally reached the rock behind his mat he gratefully sank down, careful to not let his relief show.

    ¡°Thanks for helping Artemis. Couldn''t have asked for a better assistant.¡±

    Artemis raised an eyebrow. ¡°I recall saving your life?¡±

    Orion ignored her. ¡°You even managed to get a head! Truly astounding!¡±

    She grinned at him, nonplussed. She could tell how riled up he was. Orion tried to hold on to his anger and indignation, but in the face of her smile, it was impossible. The gentle dawn traced her pale skin, painting it in warm colors. With that amused smile on her face, she looked completely different than the cold goddess painted in the light of the moon. But her gray eyes were the same everywhere. As was her silver hair, shining like a star fallen to the earth.

    He groaned. ¡°Fine. Fine. I messed up.¡±

    Her grin widened and she pushed him over to sit herself beside him. Her smile slowly faded and she reached out to pull his forehead to hers.

    ¡°Why Orion? We could have bombarded it from leagues away. We are archers, not brutes. You almost died. Why, Orion?¡±

    He sighed, hanging his head in shame. Artemis didn¡¯t push, simply staring into his brown eyes as she stroked his equally brown hair. He wanted to look away, break gaze with those piercing gray orbs, but he couldn''t close himself off like that. Not to her.

    ¡°Something changed¡± Orion finally managed to force out. ¡°These new beasts¡­ They are not natural. They are smart and they are powerful. I¡­ I needed to know.¡±

    ¡°Know what?¡±

    ¡°What they are. Why they came.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    He winced. ¡°Well, the fight was more pitched than expected¡­¡±

    ¡°Orion¡­¡±

    He broke away, leaning back to watch the rising sun. ¡°Artemis. Something¡¯s wrong. Whatever these things are, they are fundamentally different from anything we''ve seen before. Whatever these things are, they are not prey. They lack souls, yet they wield immense power. It¡¯s unnatural.¡±

    Artemis was skeptical. ¡°It''s been less than a decade since we started exploring the wilds. There are plenty of things we haven''t seen yet. How is this any different?¡±

    ¡°It just is.¡±

    ¡°How¡±

    Orion threw up his hands, wincing as it jostled his rib. ¡°I don¡¯t know! It just is.¡±

    Artemis surveyed him, taking in the almost imperceptible winces and his sagging eyelids. ¡°Let''s go to sleep.¡±

    ¡°But the sun¡¯s just rising.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been up all night, and you need to heal.¡±

    ¡°But th-¡±

    Artemis quickly leaned down and scooped a helpless Orion up. He struggled for a second before sinking into her embrace. She carried him to their sleeping pads hidden under a small tree, a bush really.

    She gently set him down and laid down behind him, wrapping herself around him and snaking hands under his shoulder to set his rib. Orion flinched at her touch, but soon relaxed, sinking into her.

    Spotty sunlight streamed through the gaps in the leaves, but in Artemis¡¯ arms, Orion no longer cared.

    He was out in seconds.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    It was late noon when Artemis awoke, and gently slipping free of Orion¡¯s embrace, left to wash in the creek. The creek was a few hundred feet from the clearing, and slipping out of her hunting leathers, Artemis shivered as the cold water rushed to embrace her bare skin.

    For a time, she simply basked in its cold embrace, enjoying the delicious shivers that raced through her.

    A creak snapped her attention behind her. A beast stood there, a horse-like creature with eight legs and black wings, radiating an aura of blurring forms and open skies. Artemis¡¯s fear surged as she realized her situation.

    She was alone, unarmed, unclothed, and devoid of the familiar embrace of the moonlit night. But still, it was only one beast. She was more the match for a single beast, even if it was of the strange new breed.

    Another rustle sounded and her blood ran cold. Yet another beast emerged from the underbrush, another of the strange horse-like creatures, its eight gray legs and white wings radiating the same aura as the first, of open skies and zooming figures.

    A thrill ran through her as she realized Orion was still wounded and asleep. She had to keep them away from her. Another rustle sounded, but Artemis ignored it and submerged herself in the stream.

    When she rose again, cold water running down her silver hair and naked body, she was no longer Artemis.

    She was the lady of the moon, bearer of silver chill.

    And she would not fall without a fight.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    Orion woke to the dawn light filtering through the tree above him. It trickled down, slowly pressing through the darkness of sleep to rouse him.

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    He cautiously sat up and began to stretch, slowly checking each muscle. He prodded his rib, satisfied to find it already half healed. Watching the rosy rays of dawn stream through the gaps in the leaves, he realized he must have slept for a full day. For a time, he simply sat there, basking in the atmosphere. The wind joined him, whispering of far-off places.

    There were times when he felt like the world could not be real. It was too beautiful. Too heavy. Too much. And yet¡­ there it was.

    He languidly reached out with the morning breeze, searching for Artemis. He wanted to show her the beauty he saw, illustrate the whispers of the wind to her.

    And he didn¡¯t find her.

    He sighed, remembering all the times he had told her to stay close. But then again, he wouldn''t love her so much if she just obeyed.

    He stretched out his winds further, covering the nearest mile in a canvas of gently searching currents.

    She was still gone.

    A hint of a frown appeared on his face, and holding back no more, he called the full knowledge of the wind to himself, immersing himself in its wild and conflicting stories. Most of them were frivolous, beautiful but useless.

    The longer he listened the grimmer his expression came. Grabbing one of his spare bows and a quiver full of his best arrows, he pushed out of the sleeping nook and towards the creek. His rib tinged uncomfortably but he ignored it.

    Artemis was more important.

    The creek would be clear to anyone else, but Orion was the lord of the hunt. To him, the signs of the fight were as clear as day. The iron tang of blood stained the air and the moist dirt of the filled-in depressions was as obvious as the sun. The wind whispered of beasts and blood. Of a cold moon shining over them all.

    Orion ignored all of that, walking forward to crouch in front of a different depression. He shoved aside the lost dirt, revealing a single, blood-coated, silver hair. It shone with the cold light of the moon, pointing to the east.

    That, at least, brought a semblance of calm to Orion. She must have been taken, not dead if she bothered to leave a sign like that.

    Rage instantly overtook his relief as he struggled to comprehend who would dare do such a thing. But the answer was obvious, both in the tales of the wind and the remains of the battle.

    It had been the beasts. They had ambushed Artemis while she was bathing and defenseless. He traced the scene of the battle. She had slain several, baptizing them in the sea of death. She had been wounded at some point, a trail of blood marking her movements.

    She had fought valiantly.

    But she had been alone and defenseless.

    He slammed a fist into a nearby tree in frustration. He should have been beside her, defending her. Instead, he had been sleeping while she was taken. And worst of all, he didn''t even know what they were going to do with her. They were intelligent, their impressive attempts at erasing their presence indicated at least that much.

    But he was the lord of the hunt.

    And nothing could evade him.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Despite his initial confidence, hours later he had still not found their tracks. It should have been impossible. Nothing could hide from his gaze.

    Unless¡­ Unless Artemis had made a mistake when implanting her hair.

    But he had no other leads. He would have to trust her.

    It was hours later, with the twilight stars shining overhead, that the wind finally brought him his answers. His gaze shot up to the skies, eyes widening with realization.

    They had flown.

    With that crucial bit of information, the rest soon followed. Tracking creatures through the air was much harder than those on the ground, truthfully only possible due to Orion¡¯s mastery of the winds. They surged out for miles, bringing the faint scent of animal droppings and fallen feathers.

    Emboldened by his success, Orion ignored the seductive oblivion of sleep and forged forward relentlessly. The miles slipped away beneath his feet, the wilds helping the hunter forward.

    This was his path.

    Inevitable. Inexorable. Relentless.

    They could run. They could hide. But in the end, no one could escape the hunter.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    Time had become a blur, day and night blending together in a mush of time. Orion was close. He could feel it. The droppings had become more recent and although his wind had yet to get a clear glimpse of the beast, it had heard tales of their passing.

    On the eve of the ninth day, sleep deprived and exhausted, his winds reported patrolling beasts ahead. He slowed for the first time in a week, finally taking the time to look around.

    He was deeper into the wilds then he had ever ventured before. Everything was large here, like a celestial being had taken a normal forest and scaled it. The bushes looked more like trees and the trees towered over them, scraping the sky. A mountain loomed over it all, so massive Orion was shocked he had not known about it before. As he watched it rumbled and beleched a plume of gray ash.

    From where he was shielded by the trees, he could make out faint specks circling the peak of the massive mountain. The wind brought him disparate vision, deeping his understanding of the situation.

    The wind whispered of thousands of beasts, of a desert and marsh and sea and a grassland surrounding the fiery mountain. It whispered of a people, crude but growing. And in reverent tones, it murmured of a beast in the heart of the mountain, one different from the rest. One souled and alive, aware in a way that only Adam¡¯s children had been before.

    I will admit, Dargonth, the dragon slumbering in the volcano, had been an accident. A snake that had been content serving Adam and Eve in the heavens. When I had cast them outside of paradise, something had awakened in him. The primal nature and intelligence of beasts. It had awakened for all beasts.

    But for Dargonth, perhaps because of his closeness to Adam and Eve, the process went a step further, granting him a true soul as well, rather than the dim sparks of his brethren. He had awakened an old legend, baked into the universe by something hidden deep inside me, something I still didn¡¯t understand.

    He had become a dragon, in all its power and greed. In all its cunning and wisdom.

    The king of the beasts.

    Orion asked the wind for more, pushing it a deeper understanding of his new foe, only to be interrupted by a flash of silver light.

    Orion immediately turned, Dargonth forgotten, and sent the wind in its direction. It returned a second later, bringing news of a bound Artemis, held captive by winged creatures.

    Eyes flashing, he forced aside his exhaustion and crept in her direction. The closer he got, the more detailed information the wind fed him. Artemis was tied to a massive tree, bound in crude ropes of braided plant matter, wrapped in so much that not so much as a glimpse of her skin was visible. Orion was gratified to see that her winged guard, composed of eight-legged winged horses, was covered in frozen wounds.

    They each radiated a nearly identical aura of blue skies and racing figures, although some fluctuated with their injuries more than others. The strangeness of seeing beings with nearly identical auras stopped Orion in his tracks for a second. All paths were unique to the individual that walked them. How could a whole herd possibly share the same path?

    They couldn''t.

    That meant the beast got their power from something else¡­

    Orion''s thoughts were interrupted as one of the beasts, covered in a strange pattern of gray and brown walked over to Artemis, and he tensed ready to spring into action.

    Thankfully, it only neighed angrily at Artemis, shaking its partially frozen wing in irritation, before turning and prancing back.

    Orion ached to free her in that instant, but his hunter''s instincts took over at the last instant. He was exhausted and Artemis didn''t seem to be in any trouble. The memory of the fight with that multi-header lizard remained clear in his mind. And while he didn¡¯t know why they had taken Artemis, they seemed to be staying in place.

    It was better to rest now, and free her during the night, when the creatures would be unable to see and the moon would empower Artemis.

    Still¡­ he gazed at Artemis longingly. She was right there¡­

    But she was safe, at least for now.

    He forced his gaze away, and commanding the wind to wake him in the case of anything unexpected, he clambered up the nearest tree where he wrapped himself in oversized leaves.

    He didn''t expect to sleep well with Artemis so close.

    But nine days of non-stop consciousness is no joke.

    He was out instantly.

 10.3 - Reunion

    She stood before him, beautiful and powerful.

    She¡¯d always been like that, his light in the dark. His moon, illuminating the dark currents of his mind. But now she was cold.

    And she was slipping away.

    The void trembled and the wind screamed as Orion drew on more power than ever before. He cast aside mortal concerns and became the eternal wind, striving to close the seemingly minuscule gap.

    Yet no matter how he struggled, she only drifted further away.

    He screamed her name, begging her to at least acknowledge his presence. But her moon was cold and impartial.

    He screamed himself hoarse, but she refused to slow.

    At last, lacking any other options, he drew his bow.

    The black void shook, angry he had dared bring violence to this place. Beasts appeared in the dozens and dove for Artemis.

    Orion roared as his arms blurred, a shower of arrows taking to the skies with inexorable force. They struck with tremendous force, reaping lives and limbs both.

    Artemis changed, no longer the impartial moon, but instead, the woman he had grown to love, desperately struggling against her many bonds.

    Her eyes met his and he saw acceptance in them.

    It almost broke him. Only her eyes kept him together, even as they ripped him apart.

    He could not fight like this.

    The void may contain this space, but it could not contain the wind. It could not contain him. Tears streaming down his face, he gave his emotion to the sky, letting it forge a conduit between him and the boundless might of the heavens.

    Immediately, time seemed to fade, urgency becoming just one of the many whims of the wind. He was free and powerful like never before. He wanted nothing more than to become the wind fully, sacrificing himself to its fancies.

    But those gray eyes were still on him, and he could not say no to them. The eternal sky filled him with power, and his bowstring crept back to his cheek.

    He only shot one arrow, limbs breaking and blood spraying from its power.

    But it was enough.

    The beasts vanished as if they had never been, their very existence giving way before the hunter''s wind. Artemis¡¯ bounds shattered revealing her in her full glory.

    Cold fear flooded him as he realized how close he had been to losing himself to the winds. How close he had been to simply letting Artemis die.

    But seeing her bounding towards him, he relaxed.

    He had done it.

    Then, a mighty red claw appeared, and in a single motion bisected Artemis.

    The void shattered.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    Orion woke with a gasp, nearly falling out of the tree branch he had been sleeping on. The thunder roared around him and thick raindrops fell from the sky.

    The wind yelled battle cries as it surged in.

    Orion forcibly calmed himself and looked around in wonder. Had he done this?

    The answer, as always, is complicated. Visions are strange things, typically the result of the soul trying to tell the mind something. And when the soul comes so close to the physical¡­ strange things happen.

    But all Orion knew was this was the perfect chance to grab Artemis. He grabbed his bow and vaulted to the ground, landing in a crouch. The roaring wind confirmed that she was still in the same place. He crept toward her and climbed into a tree beside the one she was tied up on, using the winds to hide his presence the whole way.

    At the top, he took a moment to consider his options. Twilight was fast approaching, only an hour or two till the moon came out. And it was under that moon they would make their escape. He reached out and confirmed the storm would last at least that long, if only barely.

    He spent the next half an hour mapping their escape routes and letting the wind trace the contours of the beastly kingdom he had found himself in. With the storm, concealing his actions was easy.

    Finally, he was ready. He drew back his bow, gathering a portion of the storm into him. He was careful to limit the amount so not as to lose himself. He vividly remembered the consequences of drawing too much, and even though it was a dream something in him whispered its truth.

    The storm came to him easily, resonating with the emotion within him that had helped summon it. Just as he was about to fire, the wind whispered a warning.

    Then it screamed.

    Orion immediately abandoned his attack, calling all the nearby winds to him to shield his presence. The mountaintop exploded, spewing lava into the air. All nearby beasts cringed back, and a second later Orion followed.

    A massive beast emerged from the lava, nearly twice as long as the multi-headed lizard they had fought earlier. It walked on four legs, with a pair of golden-red wings tucked behind its shoulder blades. The rain sizzled and evaporated against its red and golden scales, the steam ringing it like a halo. It had a long scaly snout with a set of glistening man-sized teeth that ended in impossible sharp points. A pair of pearl-white antlers curved back from its orange eyes.

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    But even more shocking than its physical appearance was the aura it emitted. It was one of a composite path, nameless in its uniqueness. Tyranny, fire, dominance, power, and a million other qualities came together to form a spirituality that pressed down heavily on every being in its range.

    Even the common beasts, barely souled as they were felt it, and one by one, they dropped to their knees in submission.

    The monstrosity, Dargonth as he would soon be known, raised his head to the skies and roared. Power poured out of him, its unyielding nature refusing to bow even to the majesty of the endless sky.

    For some reason, something stirred in me while watching that. The endless sky¡­

    Regardless, weakened as the storm already was by existing in this unnatural context, it scattered, turning into smaller clouds that dissipated in the last rays of the sun.

    Seemingly satisfied, Dargonth turned its gaze toward Orion.

    Orion¡¯s heart hammered as he tried to figure out how he¡¯d been spotted before fear gave way to a more terrifying realization. He was not the one that had been spotted.

    Dargonth flexed and launched himself off the top of the volcano, straight towards Artemis. Orion tensed but did nothing. He sensed no malice from the dragon, just annoyance and curiosity.

    It took even the mighty dragon a minute to reach the grove where Artemis was kept and Orion hid. It landed with a mighty boom, crushing the plants under it.

    It was so tall that its head came up to the platform where Artemis was kept. It made a few strange hissing sounds at the avian keepers and they rushed to bring Artemis forward. Orion barely held back his gasp at finally seeing Artemis in person. She was exactly as the wind had described her, a bit beaten up, but otherwise healthy.

    Then to his surprise, they cut her bounds, revealing Artemis'' bare body. Orion''s face heated, but he didn''t look away.

    The dragon breathed a mouthful of steam in Artemis¡¯ face, condensing droplets of water along her pale body and silver hair. The last rays of the sun refracted off them, casting Artemis in red light.

    Then, to Orion''s absolute shock, it spoke.

    ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Its voice was deep and rumbling, vibrating through everything in earshot.

    Artemis flinched before drawing himself up with pride that made Orion¡¯s heart swell.

    ¡°I am Artemis.¡± She proclaimed, ¡°Lady of the Moon, Daughter of Adam and Eve¡±

    ¡°Oh? Adam and Eve are your sires?¡±

    ¡°You knew them?¡±

    The dragon snorted. ¡°I was there at their creation, a cast-off of the heavenly one exerting his will. I accompanied them through the ages in paradise. Do they still live?¡±

    Artemis hesitated. ¡°No.¡±

    The dragon huffed again. ¡°Very well. Now, wha-¡±

    ¡°Wait. Who are you? What are you? Who is the heavenly one? Wh-¡±

    The growled the sound striking like a physical force. ¡°Do not interrupt. I am Dargonth, dragon of might, king of beasts. Now, as I was saying, are you the one that caused this storm?¡±

    Seeing Artemis¡¯ silence he made more of those strange hissing sounds at the avian guards. They nervously hissed back.

    ¡°Ah. You killed one of the hydras. Shame, that one had potential.¡± he motioned to the birds. ¡°Deal with her.¡±

    They seemed to get the gist.

    Dargonth turned to leave, nearly leveling the entire forest as his tail swept out.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Artemis yelled. ¡°I¡¯m Adam and Eve¡¯s child. You knew them. Won''t you let me go?¡±

    He snorted, not turning back. ¡°I never liked Adam and Eve much. The heavenly one¡¯s favorites. I served them faithfully in paradise, and they cast me aside as soon as we descended to this hell. Besides,¡± he stated, spreading his wings, ¡°I am a dragon, and dragons show no mercy.¡± A mighty flap of his winds toppled all the nearby trees and launched him into the air.

    Nobody dared move while he flew back to his mountain.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    The second ticked by with agonizing slowness as Orion held his full draw bow. He would strike as soon as the avian beasts made their move, but as late as possible to avoid the one creature he could not win against

    The avian beast held still as well, gazing at the departing dragon¡¯s back with reverence. Artemis had fallen to her knees, shivering from the weight of the dragon''s presence.

    When the dragon disappeared into the mouth of the mountain, Orion struck

    Three arrows flew out, silently felling three beasts. Lacking the regeneration of the hydra, one arrow was enough.

    Then he shot three more.

    Then three more.

    A dozen beasts fell before one noticed what was happening.

    I squealed in alarm, pointing at its fallen comrades. Orion responded by curving arrows to strike from the east, luring away a significant portion of the flock.

    A few of the rest went to rebind Artemis but found themselves outmatched as Artemis exploded with argent light. Orion kept shooting down Artemis'' guard, all while occasionally curving an arrow to further confuse the beast looking for him.

    The battle was quick and quiet, as all hunts should be.

    Orion leaped to the platform and seized Artemis in a fierce embrace. That familiar spark swelled within him. It was strangely reminiscent of their father in nature. To his shock, Artemis twisted out of his hug, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled his lips to hers.

    The world ceased to exist, replaced by only Artemis, towering over all of existence. Her cold lips against his. Her body molded to his. Her pain, her fear, her love.

    All became her.

    A warm breeze rushed in, caressing her and bringing warmth to her bare limbs. She sighed against his lips, finally pulling back.

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve come to¡­ save you¡± Orion mumbled, dazed.

    She smiled. ¡°Well, we¡¯re not out yet. Do you have a plan?¡±

    Orion shot a reproachful glance at Artemis, struggling to pull his thoughts together. This was not a time to be distracting him. First, he pulled off his shirt and gave it to Artemis to cover up. He couldn''t help but watch as she pulled it on, feeling strangely happy at seeing her in his clothes. She smirked at him as she finished. ¡°Like what you saw?¡±

    He snapped his head away, face crimson, and forced himself to think. They could talk of whatever had just happened later, but now they needed to escape.

    The wind brought him news of the avian beats rousing the other beasts around the volcano to search. The entire place was swarming with them, and he could already feel a few rushing towards them, likely smelling blood.

    Orion reached out, calling the bundle of stuff he had brought to hand. The wind deposited it before him, opening it to reveal Artemis¡¯ weapons and clothes. She quickly pulled them on, though he was gratified to see she kept that shirt.

    Finally, they were fully armed and ready. Orion was about to lead them on one of his pre-planned escape routes when Artemis'' arms circled him from behind.

    ¡°Artemis?¡± he questions, feeling the desperation in her embrace.

    She started shaking softly and when he started to turn, she just clung to him tighter, refusing to let him see. But the wind still showed him the truth.

    She was crying.

    ¡°Artemis, are you ok?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± she hiccupped, ¡°I thought I was alone. I thought this was the end. I put on a brave face¡­ but you have no idea how happy I am to see you.¡±

    This time when he turned, he refused to let her stop him. He seized her in a tighter embrace, tucking her under his chin and to his chest as she sobbed.

    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± he whispered. ¡°Now and always.¡±

    The last rays of the sun slipped past the horizon, plunging the world into darkness. Orion noted grimly that there was no moon tonight.

    When she finally calmed, he pulled back, lifting her to his face.

    ¡°It''s ok. I won''t let them take you again.¡± He planted a gentle kiss on her lips.

    ¡°But now we need to go.¡±

    She nodded, taking a deep breath and pushing it all down for later.

    It was time to leave.

 10.4 - Death

    Orion''s face grew increasingly grim as they rushed through the forest. It seemed the avians had discovered that they were missing and directed the rest of the beasts to form a blockade around the section of the forest where Artemis had been held. It was an impressively advanced tactic, a multi-layer wheel designed to contain anybody. To make things worse, if they tried to fight their way through it would almost certainly alert Dargonth, and Orion had no illusions about handling that beast. If they had only left as soon as they had freed Artemis, perhaps they could have made it, but Artemis had needed that time. Now, the only advantage they had was the dark.

    Artemis stalked beside him, occasionally reaching out to touch him as if to reassure herself he was still there. Without the moon, she was weaker than him, but still a force to be reckoned with.

    He drew the wind around them, shielding their conversation.

    ¡°We need to break through.¡±

    ¡°Which direction?¡±

    He pointed west. ¡°That¡¯s the only direction that gets us out of beast territory. The problem is there''s a cliff there just past the blockade. I can carry us over, but it will require my full concentration. You will need to defend us.¡±

    She nodded.

    The next few minutes were tense and painful. If they were discovered before they arrived at the blockade they were done for.

    Finally, they arrived at the blockade. It was a ring clear of forest, filled with a mass of anxiously milling beasts. Avain beast rules the skies, scanning for intruders. A few beasts even used some form of high-pitched sound to try and detect them, though Orion utilized the wind to block those attempts.

    He turned to Artemis.

    ¡°Ready¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Just break through and run to the cliff as fast as you can. Then we¡¯ll get out of here.¡±

    On Orion¡¯s count, they launched themselves forward, staying low to maximize the time they remained unseen, which was, unfortunately, far too short. One of the avians immediately spotted them, and squawking loudly directed the rest of the beasts to stop them.

    The winds flitted through the gaps, showing Orion and Artemis a path forward. Orion let it impart its nature to him, feeling himself grow lighter and more flexible. Unfortunately, Artemis could do no such thing and calling upon her light would only make her easier to find. Orion picked up the slack, wrapping her in hidden currents and commanding them to guide her.

    Then they were upon the beasts. It was a chaotic mess, with beasts swiping and biting and roaring, doing more damage to themselves than to Orion and Artemis. Auras flared and were extinguished. The avian beast swopped down to no avail as Orion and Artemis weaved and dodged in accordance to the wind. Artemis had her blades out, using them to devastating effect when she failed to follow the wind¡¯s urgings. Blood filled the air, its strange aura hinting at the truth contained within it. As Orion danced through him, dim understanding forced its way into his mind. This must be the source of their power, their blood. Just as he was going to try and take a deeper look, the wind brought Orion tiding of a stirring dragon, and hints of its dawning realization.

    Dargonth was waking up.

    Still, they were going to make it.

    But of course, nothing¡¯s ever that easy.

    Artemis, missing a step, stumbled. An avian beast, seeing its opportunity, pounced. Time slowed down as Artemis raised her sword, but he could see it would be too late. He was too far to intervene, not on his own.

    He remembered the dream. The agony. But he would not lose her again.

    Without hesitation, he threw his fear to the sky, letting merge into the greater tangle of the wind. A strange black beast with six legs and a tail that curved over its head lunged, scraping Orion with a burning tail that pulsed with death and decay, but in return, power poured into him, making him a part of the endless sky, taking his pain away. What was mortal pain in the face of the endless sky? It was intoxicating, but unlike last time, Orion was prepared. He quickly reasserted himself, making sure to limit the power he drew.

    A single step curved him through the ever-present wind, putting him in front. The force of his passage disrupted the diving avian¡¯s flight, sending it careening to the ground. Without hesitation, Orion grabbed his bow and drew the string. An arrow of swirling winds appeared, and in the next moment, was released. It flew forward silently before bursting into a maelstrom that threw aside the beast in front of them. Orion grimaced as the backlash hit him, but pushed through the pain. The winds whispered of the dragon rising from its resting place, and a second later a faint roar alerted him of a new threat. They only had a few minutes.

    ¡°Let''s go¡± he yelled, grabbing Artemis and using the last of his winds to propel them forward. Thanks to his arrow, the path was clear, but they could hear the charging beast behind them. Orion ran with all he had, feeling the pounding of his heart spread the burn. Something had been very wrong with the beast that had grazed him.

    But he could not stop.

    So he ran faster, feeling the burn eat him from the inside out.

    When they finally arrived at the cliff face a minute later, Orion was drenched in sweat and struggling to concentrate through the fire in his veins. Artemis looked at him with worry, but he shrugged her off. The dragon was drawing nearer.

    ¡°Come on. We need to get to the top.¡±

    She took his outstretched hand and he pulled her on his back. He then crouched, mustering the last dregs of his will to call to the wind. Then, with a mighty leap, he hurled himself in the air, shattering the ground under them. The wind cradled them, pushing them ever higher. They landed unsteadily two-hundred feet up, Orion¡¯s shaky hands almost slipped.

    But he refused to give in. Not while they were so close.

    Another jump got them nearly a tenth up.

    Then another breached a ninth.

    His vision swam and his muscles trembled. He teetered on the edge of collapse, only able to move through pure will. He would be lucky to make one more jump. It was becoming increasingly clear that if he didn''t stop and rest, he would not make it. But the roaring of the fast-approaching beasts didn''t let him stop. Orion rapidly arrived at a conclusion: if he only had one more jump, then he would make it all he needed. So fire in his veins, Orion reached for more of the wind than ever before, letting it fill him till he was the wind himself.

    The creature, Artemis he reminded his slipping awareness, yelled something, but he was too far gone to hear. All he knew was the wind, and the need to get to the top of the cliff.

    So he flexed his muscles.

    And jumped.

    They shot forward like an arrow, Orion expelling every bit of power he had at once. Awareness returned at once, euphoria quickly replaced by sudden knowledge of imminent death. His limbs were broken and his heart filled with venom.

    But he still smiled, because Artemis, at least, had made it.

    As they reached the apex of their jump, thousands of feet up, the mouth of the cliff came into view. Ignoring the protest of his dying body, Orion slung Artemis around, and flung her to safety. From there, she was unobstructed. All she had to do was run to their siblings and she would be safe.

    Their eyes met as she hurled to salvation.

    Her eyes were wide and terrified as she took it the entirety of his wounds.

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    He just smiled.

    Go he mouthed.

    Then gravity claimed him and hurled him to the beasts below

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    Artemis watched Orion¡¯s broken body falling to the hordes below in shock.

    How had his injuries developed to such an extent without her noticing?!

    Her night vision wasn''t the best, but as he hurled her to safety, she, suspecting something was wrong, had drawn upon the moon to see. And it was horrible. Black veins ran through him, a grotesque contrast to the crimson blood pouring from his broken limbs.

    How had this happened?

    She now had a choice: save herself or save him.

    Her choice was made in an instant. She exploded with moonlight.

    No moon?

    Fine.

    She would become the moon.

    She cried out as she hurled towards him, a primal sound of rage and loss.

    Time froze, as a silver-clad goddess flew towards a bloodied hunter, a horde of beasts eagerly clamoring below, avians diving from above. Then time resumed and he was in her arms. She hit the ground with a roar, silver light pouring out of her in a wave.

    The closest beasts were frozen solid and the rest were thrown back as argent death rippled through their ranks. Artemis pressed a glowing hand over Orion¡¯s heart, trying to sense what was wrong. Immediately it became apparent.

    Powerful venom ravaged him.

    But the moon was purity, and the venom was nothing in the face of it.

    Or would be nothing if she had the chance to purify it. Instead, she found herself caught in a desperate melee, desperately trying to protect both herself and Orion. Her light filled the area, making beasts hesitate, but without the moon to empower her, it wasn''t enough, and they eventually mustered the courage to charge in. Her twin silver swords wave a tapestry of death, building a wall of corpses.

    But more and more came. And the dragon was close now.

    The moon was death, but Artemis was too distraught to muster its power. So she danced, a beacon in the darkness, desperately trying to hold back the black hordes.

    And failing.

    Silver slashes lit the night up only to be swallowed by the endless horde. Beasts froze only to be trampled by the bests behind them. Arrow fell from the sky, only to be silently endured.

    Artemis did everything she could, but in the end, it wasn''t enough. Finally, she kneeled over Orion¡¯s struggling body, head and blades held high even as her legs failed her. Weak light guttered around her, trying to form her silver arrows.

    She would fight to the bitter end.

    Then, just as the dark beasts rushed in to finish the job, they hesitated. Light poured between the gaps in their forms, illuminating the horrific damage Artemis had done to them.

    Light?

    ¡°Scram!¡± a powerful voice commanded, and all went white. Her vision was gone, but she could hear the beasts fleeing, panicking over the brilliant light. She curled up around Orion and hoped no beast would come their way.

    When her vision repaired itself, all the beasts were gone, and a man stood before them.

    He was tanned and muscular with long gold hair and gilded eyes. And he was softly glowing, illuminating the world around them.

    ¡°Sol?¡±

    ¡°Artemis? What happened?¡± he sounded concerned.

    ¡°Sol! It''s Orion! Help him!¡±

    Sol crouched beside Artemis and looked over Orion¡¯s broken body. He let out a hiss as he saw Orion¡¯s broken body.

    ¡°This is bad¡± he sounded panicked.

    Artemis put her hands over Orion''s heart and pumped pure moonlight into his body, guiding it to eliminate the venom. Sol followed Artemis¡¯ lead, cauterizing wounds with burning fingers.

    Slowly but surely, the venom began to retreat, giving way before Sol and Artemis¡¯ overbearing power. He began to breathe easier and it seemed that with only a few more minutes, he would be recovered enough to take flight.

    Alas, fate had other plans.

    Dargonth arrived with a mighty boom, sending a wave of dust out from where he landed. Starlight glittered off of his red scales, purple in the night.

    ¡°What do we have here?¡± he purred, ¡°Three little mice, trying to scurry to safety¡±

    Its aura rolled over them, pressing down with a palpable force. Sol brightened, turning the night to day, but even he couldn''t overcome the dragon''s absolute dominion.

    Just as he was going to launch himself at the dragon in a desperate attempt at driving it off, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Orion slowly sitting up.

    ¡°Orion!¡± Artemis yelled.

    ¡°Artemis,¡± he smiled. It was a sad smile.

    Sol suddenly felt a dark premonition come over him. ¡°Orion don-¡±

    Orion raised a hand, silencing him before turning to Artemis. ¡°You need to go, my love¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Orion dragged himself to his feet, his bow somehow in hand. ¡°I¡¯m already dead. You need to leave.¡±

    Dargonth watched with silent amusement.

    ¡°What do you mean?!¡±

    ¡°Artemis, I can''t run. And he¡± he waved at Dargonth, ¡°will not let me recover to that point. I¡¯m already dead. But you¡± he brushed a silver lock out of her eyes ¡°are not.¡±

    Tears were starting to gather in her eyes. ¡°If you die, then I will go with you.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Orion said gently. ¡°Live for me. Do all the things I cannot. Live for me, and hunt to your heart''s content.¡±

    Her tears were watering the ground now. ¡°No¡­¡± she whispered ¡°please don''t leave me¡­¡±

    He dragged her into one last gentle kiss, letting his lips linger on hers. ¡°Goodbye my love¡±

    He pushed her sobbing form to Sol. ¡°Make sure she makes it out. And tell Micheal, the beasts get their power from their blood, rather than their souls. It''s inherited. Hopefully he can do something with that.¡±

    Sol looked at Orion with a complicated look, before slowly nodding and lifting Artemis into his arms, he shot Orion another look. ¡°Die, well brother.¡±

    Dargonth finally moved, letting out a chuckle. ¡°Truly touching, but aren''t you forgetting something?¡± He spread his wings, showcasing their impressive bulk. His aura redoubled, pressing down on them with renewed force and beast gathered outside the aura, surrounding them.

    Orion just laughed. ¡°You think you can stop them? You have bigger things to worry about.¡±

    ¡°What¡± the dragon snorted, ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°Yes, me.¡±

    Orion drew himself to his fullest extent, feeling his broken bones and wounds more acutely than ever. Beside him Sol shone with blinding light, obscuring their position in the light of the sun.

    Of course, Dargonth could still see them, but that was just fine. Orion wanted Dargonth to see this. His aura spread out, weaker than Dargonths, but still mighty. It whispered tales of the winds and the hunt, and while its path had come to an end, it had one last story to tell.

    ¡°I am Orion, Lord of the Hunt¡± Orion declared, his voice echoing, carried on currents of air, ¡°And I hereby declare the final hunt.¡±

    His aura redoubled, and redoubled again as he burned his path, consuming everything had built over the years for a few minutes of transcendent power. His aura immediately created a path through Dargonth¡¯s, and Sol surged out with violent momentum, tracing an arc over the beast like the sun over the shadow-touched land.

    Dargonth immediately roared, amusement forgotten as he began to move. But Orion wasn''t done yet.

    With defiance in his bones and love in his heart, Orion reached for more of the sky than ever before, letting it fill him till he was the wind himself.

    Then further.

    A portion of him hesitated, remembering the dream and the pain that had followed overdrawing like this. But a bigger portion focused on Artemis'' lifeless body. If he didn''t do this, that vision would become reality.

    So he gave the part to the wind as well, along with any facet of himself he could spare. He gave everything he was to his path, let it become him, and then, going a step further, he burned it, letting the power fill him. The fear of impending death vanished, replaced by growing euphoria.

    An arrow of wind appeared on his bow, and when he loosened it at Dargonth, the world screamed. And so did Dargonth when it struck him.

    ¡°What is this?¡± he roared, looking down at the drop of golden ichor the arrow had drawn. A mere drop, but it would have to be enough.

    So Orion danced, and hunted, and burned away.

    And when he could dance no more, he fell from the sky satisfied.

    Artemis lived.

    He was dead before Dargonth¡¯s jaws closed around him.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    Artemis clutched the clay urn to her chest, silent tears running down her cheeks. The children of Adam surrounded her, at least those that could be gathered. Many were crying as well. They stood atop the mountain of Adam, the first place they had seen the world.

    ¡°Goodbye, my love.¡± Artemis choked out, ¡°May you forever rest in the winds¡±

    She overturned the urn, watching as the winds caught the ashes of Orion¡¯s belongings and carried them to places unseen.

    For a time, there was silence as they watched his ashes drift down to the world below.

    Then Micheal stepped forward, azure eyes resolute.

    ¡°They will not get away with this.¡±

 11 - The King and His Wife

    From one came two, from two twenty-seven, and from twenty-seven all. By modern sensibilities, perhaps we would condemn the love of Adam¡¯s children, and the children sired of their love. But it was a different time, a different place. They lived by their father¡¯s law and loved, and from that love came life, pure and beautiful. Their children grew and discovered, just as they did. Paths were forged and shattered. It was a difficult time for the children of Adam, a crash course in the cruelties of the human condition. Formerly untouched by the miseries of mortal life, they became the first to walk the tightrope of existence, desperately balancing love and loss over yawning void. Life does its best to wear down the spirits of the living, but there is always love. And where there is love, there is life.

    Hestia sobbed into Micheals arms as flames engulfed the small body in front of them. The sun shone overhead, far too bright for an occasion such as this. Its rays fell into the assembled crowd, and in them Micheal could feel his fathers love. He scoffed, lifting his gaze to the heavens and lowering it back to the burning body of his first son.

    Love indeed.

    His other children, along with the children of his siblings gathered around, most too young to understand what was happening.

    Arjan had been the best of them, closer to the heavens than to the earth. When Micheal had sent him away, he had expected him to return triumphant.

    He had upheld that expectation till the day Artemis had found his body in the middle of a mountain of beast corpses.

    He still remembered his hands trembling as he tossed aside corpses like they were feathers. His son¡¯s determined face stared back, jaw clenched with effort, even in death. He had issued a command at that very moment.

    The lives of all the beasts that participated in the slaying of Arjan were forfeit.

    He remembered feeling hollow as his command rushed across the land, slaying all that had survived his son¡¯s carnage.

    But it was worthless.

    His son¡¯s corpse burned before him.

    The world pressed down on him, trying to drive him down to his knees. Trying to steal the breath from his lungs. Only Hestia¡¯s presence beside him stopped him from lashing out at the feelings that dared try to suppress him.

    The noon sun bathed him in light. The love in that light, normally so comforting, cut him to the bone, a reminder of what he¡¯d lost.

    He was too hot. Too hot. Too hot. Too HO-

    A cold hand on his shoulder shook him out of his spiral and he didn''t need to turn to sense Artemis at his back. Suddenly, he was ashamed. She had lost Orion, but carried on. How could he not?

    Then he was angry. Why should a king feel ashamed?

    He was still fighting himself as Artemis gently led them away.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    A week later found Micheal and Hestia at the top of the mountain of Adam, looking out over their kingdom. The sun had barely risen, the blackish-purple of night still at their backs.

    ¡°You know¡± Micheal said, ¡°This is where I fell in love with you.¡±

    Hestia was silent.

    ¡°When we first left home. I was ready to give a rousing speech atop this mountain. But you all rushed ahead. I tackled you, I remember, intent on getting revenge. I did get my revenge, I suppose. But''''---He smiled down at Hestia as she sank into his chest¡ª¡±the thing I remember most was how careful you were with your elbows. I had just tackled you, yet all you were focused on was making sure you didn¡¯t somehow hurt me. I fell in love that moment, though it took me years to understand what that meant.¡±

    He raised his gaze back to the rosy dawn.

    ¡°My love for you has only grown with time, and from that love came children, living manifestations of our love.¡± he hesitated. ¡°So what does it mean when one of them leaves for destinations inconceivable?¡±

    Hestia remained silent.

    ¡°It''s strangely fitting, isn''t it?¡± Micheal whispered, ¡°Darkness in the land of our birth. Light in the land of our children.¡± He closed his eyes. ¡°But darkness is comforting. And light burns. Love burns¡±

    He opened his eyes and sighed, ¡°What are we going to do?¡±

    Hestia stirred, drawing herself away from his chest and quietly gazing at the sunrise. Sitting beside him in a simple white gown, she seemed to become the dawn herself. A dawn of his own, shining beside him. And like the dawn, she shed illumination on his plight.

    ¡°Remember when we found out father and mother were gone?¡±

    He did in fact remember. The ground seemed jolt, unanchored with the passing of the one constant. They had been unmoored, adrift in a sea of everything.

    Hestia held out a tan hand, a pure white flame emerging from it. The flame seemed to contain everything positive in the universe, from the beauty of a sunlit waterfall, sending rainbow diffraction in every direction to Hestia¡¯s own boundless love.

    ¡°It hurt.¡± she whispered, gazing into the flame as if to suck up all its warmth. ¡°It felt like the world was ending. It was, in a way. But after each day, we were still there, and so was the world¡­¡±

    Micheal sat quietly, waiting for her to express her thoughts.

    ¡°And life went on.¡±

    She turned to gaze into his eyes, and spoke with conviction she rarely showed.

    ¡°Life goes on.¡±

    ¡ª---------------------------------------------

    The pain was sharper than when his parents or Orion had died. They had been matured, beings of comprehensive paths. Arjan had been but a boy, a boy whose father had not been there when he was needed.

    Still, life went on.

    For most of his and his siblings'' children, life continued as normal. It would be years still before they understood the magnitude of what they had just lost.

    As for Micheal, he was a king, and kings are used to bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. Still, as he added that weight to the growing pile, the world seemed to grow a shade darker.

    Life went on.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Micheal looked silently on as another of his children burned.

    Maria had been so bright, so beautiful. She had illuminated his days, helping bear the weight of his rule. The weight of the deaths. He wanted desperately to tear the beasts down, but with practice he pushed the destructive impulses down and examined them from a distance.

    Dargonth was too mighty to slay without unacceptable casualties.

    He chuckled darkly. Once he had thought that after enough losses, he would grow numb to them. But had only got better at controlling himself.

    It still hurt like nothing he had ever known.

    He exhaled sadly as another burden laid itself upon him, dimming the world further. Bearing these burdens was his duty, the duty of a king, but at times, he found himself wanting to shed them, to return to a simpler time when he didn''t have to attend the funerals of his children and niblings.

    Those thoughts scared him. He was a king, it was his path, the road he had painstakingly forged for himself out of the shreds of truth scattered around this dim world. To betray it would be to betray himself, to go against his essence.

    And yet¡­

    He sighed. He had wanted to reign in his children, confine them to the city where he could protect them. But Hestia and his siblings had stopped him.

    With sorrowful faces, they reminded him that this was the price of actualization. This was the risk of creating something unique for oneself. He knew they were right, and reluctantly he stepped back and watched his family throw themselves into the crucible, some perishing and some emerging stronger for it.

    Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and with every death, it only gets heavier.

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    Duty as heavy as a mountain, growing in layers of ash.

    The sun burned on his bare back, but he bore it as he did everything else.

    But he would not yield.

    It was his duty, and he would carry it till he broke.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    Time wore on, wearing him down like an eternal grindstone, ever spinning despite his effort against it.

    Children became less and less common as Micheal withdrew his love into himself, favoring the unyielding will of kinghood instead, and the children that were born were¡­ lesser somehow, their spark dimmer. His siblings seemed to unconsciously follow his example, withdrawing into their paths, leaving their children lesser for it.

    Even as toddlers it showed. Life was becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy, with weakness leading to death, and death leading to withdrawal, and withdrawal leading to weakness.

    All the children of Adam felt the looming shadow. All felt the erosion of their paths. But the death of one''s children is not so easy to bear and in the shadow of the future they saw ever increasing death.

    Night was descending onto the dawn of man.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    Twenty-three of the twenty-seven thrones were occupied by powerful presences. From the conception of the sun to the glory of might, Micheals siblings shone with inner light that defined imagination. The inside of the marble temple Hephas had built as their council warped under the strain of the competing presences, only to be stabilized by a frown from Hepahs himself.

    They were unmatched, a council of demigods looking down on the world with impunity.

    But Micheal knew the truth.

    His siblings were reeling, struggling with struggles they could have never imagined. They were terrified, the mere fact they were here was enough to make that clear.

    And they looked to him for guidance.

    He wished he had the answers. It was his duty, as both eldest and king. And yet¡­ he didn¡¯t. The encroaching night seemed inevitable, a black darker than even Sol¡¯s light could illuminate. It had all seemed so simple when they left home.

    A new world to explore.

    Paths to forge.

    Goals to achieve.

    But they never could have reckoned this. The weight of it all. Of watching children and siblings die, knowing if only you¡¯d been a bit faster it could have all been avoided. Of knowing the beasts were expanding and being able to do nothing about it.

    Looking back, I sometimes wonder why the children of Adam struggled so much with the human condition. It was a truth that most of their descendants readily accepted and toiled under. But looking back, it makes sense.

    They were the first, and while their descendants had the framework built for them, the children of Adam started without such a convenient framework upon which to place their burdens.

    They only had themselves.

    And they were mighty. Used to conquering all challenges in their way. Used to the reflections of paradise, unbound by the mortal world.

    Perhaps that¡¯s why reality struck them so hard.

    Sometimes the knowledge that something can be done is worse than knowing nothing can be done.

    But regardless, as I watched Micheal preach of withdrawal and fortification, I knew something must change.

    I would not let humanity be strangled in its cradle.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    The world was greyscale, devoid of the beautiful colors that had once filled it. Hestia¡¯s beautiful eyes were the last remaining bastion of color, and even they were fading.

    She was at his side, watching the sunrise.

    It was dull.

    Hestia looked into his eyes, and growing, summoned her brilliant white flame to hand. It at least, radiating love and comfort, restored some semblance of light to the world.

    ¡°Micheal, my love, you cannot continue like this.¡±

    Illuminated by her light, Micheal seemed to come awake, emerging from beneath the mountain of his duties, to face her.

    ¡°But I must. It is my path, and it is my duty. I am the eldest and I must guide us through these challenges.¡±

    ¡°But where are you guiding us? I know you can see the result of your guidance, the disaster we¡¯re plummeting to.¡± Hestia replied gently.

    Micheal flinched back.

    Micheal'''' she continued, ¡°This is new to us, this grief, this newfound understanding of the cruelties of the world. Of the cruelties of life. I have tried to let you grieve, but it has become apparent some sort of intervention is required.¡±

    Micheal closed his eyes. ¡°And what gave you the right to intervene?¡±

    Hestia ignored his accusatory tone. ¡°My path. Just as you walk the path of kings, I walk the path of life. Of home. Of peace. Of healing. I am the embodiment of the hearth, and it is my nature to warm us in these cold times¡±

    Micheal said nothing.

    ¡°My love,¡±---Hestia reached out with a flame drenched hand, stroking warmth into his cheek.---¡±You are not just guiding us. You are taking responsibility, more responsibility than you should. You¡¯re wrapping yourself in that responsibility, using it as a blanket, cold as it may be, to ward off the legions of pain. And in that wrapping you are losing touch, losing the awareness that you need to guide us.¡±

    Her flames brightened.

    ¡°But it''s not just the pain you¡¯re warding off. It''s everything.¡±

    She let her words sit for a few minutes, massaging more of that glorious warmth into him.

    ¡°I know it hurts love. I¡¯m hurting too. We all are. Love is more painful than we could have imagined and loss more so. This is a new world, one more savage than we could have imagined. But it is still beautiful. More beautiful than we could have imagined. And we are stronger than we could have imagined¡±

    Hestia snaked out her other hand, and catching Micheals face in two hands, forced him to meet her gaze.

    ¡°Trust us. It is not the place of a leader to carry his people''s burdens. It is a leader''s role to guide people through their burdens. So shed yours. Emerge from that blanket of pain and face the night with us at your side. Trust us to carry our burdens, and at last unburden yourself and shatter the encroaching night.¡±

    She pulled his forehead to hers, brown hair mixing with black, alive in the rising sun.

    ¡°Please Michael¡± she whispered, ¡°I miss you.¡±

    They sat silently for hours, riding out the surging tides of emotions, before Micheal finally replied.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how,¡± he whispered. ¡°The mountain has become my crown, the blanket my skin. I¡¯ve forgotten the light. I¡¯ve forgotten love.¡± He looked at his hands in dawning horror. ¡°Oh light. What have I done to myself? What have I do-¡±

    A pair of soft lips silenced him, and warmth became him. Light became him. Love became him. And him it. White flame bubbled off of Hestia¡¯s form, raging through his body and soul. The flame was the bane of all things negative, but instead destroying, it refined. It found the spark of light within the darkness, and gently guided it till the darkness fell before its light.

    As her body moved against his, her soul scored his soul. He felt the mountain above his head disappearing, chunks of grief-ridden rock evaporating to reveal veins of love-filled minerals. His scratchy blanket likewise began to burn, leaving refined golden strands in its wake.

    At first Micheal resisted, almost instinctively. His crown and his blanket were his regalia and his path. To give them up was to give up himself. But as Hestai grew more and more insistent, the shred of flame he couldn''t stop revealed the truth.

    In his ignorance, in his pain, he had allowed his regalia to be corrupted. He had allowed his path to be corrupted. Shame filled him, and he gladly surrendered to the cleansing fire. The noon sun overhead joined in, weaving threads of loving light through their hair, and into their souls.

    Seeing the purification was freeing and tragic all at once. The veins of gold were numerous now, the brilliant streak of love buried in a mountain of grief, now revealed and empowered. But the rock, the responsibilities he had assumed and the weight he had carried would not go nowhere. Another would have to carry them.

    Forgive me he whispered in his soul''s voice for returning your burdens to you.

    At Hestia¡¯s urging, he added another plea.

    And forgive me, for taking so long to do so.

    Insight struck him like a bolt of lightning. To take responsibility for another¡¯s failures, one also took responsibility for their successes. That was the difference between a king like himself, and a tyrant like Dargonth.

    A king let the people bear their own weights, successes and failures both.

    A tyrant took them, depriving their people of both the empowerment of success and the lessons of failure.

    Shame struck him again, this time as heavy as the rapidly dissolving mountain above his head. How had he strayed so far?

    But alight in the blaze of redemption, he refused to back down.

    His iron will seized the mountain overhead and ripped it asunder, gently collecting the veins of gold and forging them into something greater. Likewise, his will tore the blanket of isolation to shreds, weaving the remaining azure golden into a mantle that quietly faded from view.

    It hurt like nothing he had ever known and in his mind''s eyes the deceased danced in an eternal loop. But this time, he would not cower.

    White flame turned into a blistering inferno, and from it Micheal pulled a crown. It was simple, made of black rock that decorated the mountain top he and Hestia sat on, but if one truly looked past its bleak outer layer, they would see the gold within it, a promise of greater things.

    Micheal lifted it to the dancing deceased in a salute, feeling his heart tear as he did. But he resolutely faced them, recognizing and sinking into how they had lived rather than how they had died.

    When he finally spoke, It was a release. ¡°I return your deaths to you. May you rest well.¡±

    And there, basking in the halo of the sun, Micheal, son of Adam, crowned himself the first true king of man. A ripple burst out of him, a proclamation of majesty and power.

    But Micheal only had eyes for Hestia. The world was bright now, and for the first time in months, perhaps years, he could see her clearly.

    And she was beautiful.

    Long brown hair contrasted her pure white dress, the white flame flickering through it only adding to the allure. Her eyes shone with joy in the noon sun.

    Micheals love was overflowing now and he struggled to find the words to express himself. ¡°I¡­ I love y- No, I¡¯m sor- wait i¡±

    She rolled her eyes, and stepping forward, brought his forehead to hers, white fire roiling between them to dance around his crown and run fingers through his hair.

    ¡°Just don''t leave me again, okay?¡±

    He nodded against her forehead.

    She brought her lips to his.

    And the world became light.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    Far above I watched the light of love swell between Hestai and Micheal, giving birth to a new being, one as bright as any that had come before him.

    They named him Gilded, one born from gold.

    And I rejoiced.

    Humanity was far from done.

 12 - The Children of Gods

    Humanity was growing, but they soon found themselves lacking the resources to continue that growth. So Micheal chose the brightest and greatest of his children, and when they were ready, sent them on a mission. Bring back what was needed to survive. But the world is a dangerous place, and the beasts were not content to leave them in peace. The humans united in a new way, meeting the challenges with collective strength instead of individual excellence. They revealed the future of humanity in that struggle. But while they may have been the future, it was still the present. Monsters lurked in the dark.

    The pressure nearly drove Gilded to his knees, and only the presence of his sibling beside him kept him up. He stole a quick glance at the setting sun, its fiery orange a song to his soul.

    They only had to endure for a few minutes longer.

    He drew deeper upon his unity, feeling the paths of his brothers and sister melt into a composite whole that pushed back the pressure for an instant.

    Only for it to come crashing down tenfold.

    Gilded gritted his teeth, vision swimming as regal authority assaulted his senses, commanding him to kneel. Drawing upon his will, he barely managed to reach out and stabilize his siblings. Sweat dripped down his chin, joining the puddle at his feet.

    He no longer had the strength to lift his head, but the creeping shadows at his feet whispered to him of the setting sun.

    Almost there¡­

    The pressure increased a hundredfold.

    This went beyond mere command, beyond ordinary order. It was a decree written into the fabric of the world itself. All things would kneel.

    This was pressure Gilded doubted they could resist even if they weren''t exhausted from hours of enduring. It was pressure beyond what should be possible.

    There was no time to think, only time to act.

    He reached out to his siblings, this time not to merely borrow their power. There was no time for debate, no time to resist. They knew, for experience long seared into them, this was their only chance. And they wanted this just as much as he did.

    Gilded and his siblings became one, essence and being merging into one stream, united in purpose.

    The pressure vanished like mist on a hot day, and they drew themselves tall as one, bursting with power. The world suddenly seemed fragile, paper where it was once steel. Their opponent no longer loomed large, merely a single man compared to their unity.

    He frowned.

    They stepped forward.

    The pressure returned a thousandfold.

    They pushed as one, a legion of will and meaning. And they found themselves pushed back. Second after agonizing second passed as their collective was pressed lower and lower.

    But the sun was almost over the horizon.

    Time distorted, melting into a single instant of pure effort.

    And just as they were about to fold, a voice called out. ¡°Time!¡±

    The collective immediately shattered, and Gilded fell to his knees, feeling naked in his lonesome. Through his wavering consciousness, he could feel his sibling collapsing as well, almost instantly falling into unconsciousness.

    But Gilded refused to sleep just yet.

    His foe, his father appeared in blurry vision, unassuming crown bleeding into black hair, azure eyes bright.

    He was smiling.

    Darkness embraced him.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    The sun was bright in the sky, casting the world in vivid colors. Gilded sighed and leaned back, spreading his arms as if to embrace the blue sky. His long brown hair streamed out behind him, caressing his arched cheekbones and highlighting his azure eyes. It was a gorgeous day, with the grass of the open field they were crossing gently swaying in the light breeze. Behind him loomed a mountain, the mountain of Adam, and the plains they now crossed were the ones his parents had grown up in.

    It was hard to imagine his parents growing up in such a place. The gentle, unassuming nature of it was a stark contrast to his parent¡¯s power, especially his fathers. And yet¡­ he could see it. The laughter of his parents as they frolicked in the grass with their siblings. The harder he looked, the more he saw.

    Trails of embryonic paths, suggestions of what could be were strewn across these lands, crisscrossing the seemingly endless golden grass. They were remnants of a bygone time, yet they held significance.

    The origin was important, Gilded realized. The point from where everything else was born from. He reached out and calling upon his unity, sank into that origin, feeling at how his parents had come to be.

    And he was taken to another time.

    The sun was different, weaker somehow. But the children frolicking in the grass didn''t seem to mind. They tore through the land with joyous shouts, and Gilded followed them, an observer in a time he didn¡¯t belong. He traced the path, following the children even as he felt their origin drawing nearer.

    Time slipped away as he was lost in their exuberant grace. They warped the world around them, even in their infancy.

    Then the origin was there.

    Hesitantly, he looked up.

    And saw a man.

    Blonde hair adorned his tanned body, cracked lips curving into a gentle smile. He was not handsome, nor ugly. He was merely ordinary, yet something in the way he gazed at the children hinted at a deeper concept. As the children rushed to the man with loud cries of ¡°father¡± and ¡°dad¡±, Gilded realized with a start that this must be his parent¡¯s father. His grandfather.

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    Watching the obvious love his parents had for their father, Gilded wondered why they never talked about him. Curious, he deepened his vision, looking beyond the mortal shell.

    And he beheld a sun. Raging power beyond anything he had ever seen swirled before his senses, a virtual sea of power.

    Burning.

    Raging.

    Living.

    Loving.

    Gilded snapped back to his body with a gasp, heart racing, cold sweat erupting from his pores. The world spun; he almost fell before a set of hands reached out to stabilize him.

    ¡°Steady,¡± a calm voice said, ¡°Just breathe. Father is not an easy man to set eyes on.¡±

    Gilded opened his eyes to find Chrono calmly staring at him. Deeply wrinkled, tan skin, struck a strange contrast with his long white hair. It was a strange look for a world still in its youth. But what was most striking about him was his black eyes, which seemed to contain the vicissitudes of time within them.

    ¡°Calm. Calm¡± he repeated.

    Gilded followed his instructions, taking deep gulps of summer air to stabilize himself. Finally, he felt well enough to choke out. ¡°What¡­ what was that?¡±

    ¡°Father.¡±

    ¡°That was a man? Not even my father burns that bright.¡±

    Chrono chuckled. ¡°He was a being of pure love, one soaked so deeply in his essence it''s unknown if you would even consider him human, despite his appearance.¡±

    Divinity is separate from man. To walk a path is to immerse oneself in it, stepping away from the mundanity of mortality and into the annals of divinity. To walk alone, separate from everything but the path. Adam was close enough to feel that separation, though he could never bring himself to completely sever his humanity. And despite my desire for company in the heavens, I understand.

    The pangs of half forgotten truth still haunt me sometimes.

    ¡°What was he like?¡± Gilded questioned.

    Chrono sighed, a sound that seemed to come from the dawn of time itself. ¡°He was¡­ boundless. Loving. Caring. But also distant. Similar to the sun he became.¡±

    It was like a light had been turned on in his head, illuminating previously shrouded insight. ¡°Is that what happened? He became the sun?¡±

    Chrono nodded.

    ¡°But¡­ all things have a origin. He was yours. What could possibly create one such as him?¡±

    A considering gaze met his questioning one. ¡°That''s a question for another day. Your siblings are almost here.¡±

    And sure enough, the sound of laughing voices soon drifted to his ears. Gilded reached out, and calling Unity, drew deeply from strength they gladly gave. Technically they weren''t all his siblings, more like a mixture of siblings and cousins, but it didn''t really matter.

    They all loved him the same.

    ¡°Gilded! Are you ok?¡± yelled a man at the front, a towering man of pure muscle. Messy brown hair covered his scalp and draped over his face, partially covering vivid orange eyes. Mattias was the son of Hephas and Themis, and had been included in the journey for his connection to metal and ability to sense it.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine Matt¡± Gilded yelled back.

    ¡°What¡¯d you do?¡±

    ¡°He looked somewhere he shouldn''t have,¡± Chrono interjected, ending the conversation.

    Gilded filed back in with his siblings, and after reassuring them of his well being, they took off once more, cutting a path through the endless fields.

    Every once and a while, Matthias would stop them and kneel down to put a hand on the earth. After a few minutes, he would rise and shake his head.

    The ten other people in the caravan, composed of Chrono and nine of the second generation, milled impatiently as he worked, searching for precious metals.

    Well, except Chrono. He sat so still that if they didn''t know better, they¡¯d assume him a statue.

    Gilded sighed after what felt like the thousandth pause, before rustling in the grass warned him of something amiss. He turned just to see a feline shaped beast lunging at him, jaw gaping. Before he could even begin to react, Tara appeared at his side, and striking out with a dainty palm, utterly shattered the beast, sending its broken body flying back from whence it came.

    Gilded winced at his slow reaction, and thanked Tara. As always, she was silent, her bald head and round bead around her neck shining as she bowed in acknowledgement.

    It was a stark reminder of why they were here in the first place. The beasts had been getting bolder, and conflict seemed inevitable. And the crucial materials for weapons and tools were running out. That was why they were here, Gilded reminded himself, to get the materials they needed to survive.

    That weight descended once more, threatening to shatter his will. But looking around revealed the relaxed and confident countenances of his siblings.

    He drew from the confidence, letting it become him.

    As the sun began to set and they set up camp, Gilded came to resolution.

    He was Gilded, son of Micheal, and he would not fail his family.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    The days blurred together, a tapestry of new experiences and exciting places.

    The grasslands gave way to a mighty mountain range that seemed to pierce the sky itself. The ground grew stepper as they started the ascent. Many times, they discover metal veins and marked them down, but never in sufficient quantity and quality to settle.

    So they continued to press on, undeterred by the immensity of the task before them.

    The air grew thinner and the stone colder.

    But they did not stop.

    They would not.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    Something was wrong.

    The wind howled, and snow fell like normal. They trudged forward as they always had, occasionally stopping to let Matt chack for metal once more.

    And yet¡­ something was wrong.

    When the feeling grew unbearable, Gilded called for a stop. Without hesitation, he called unity and merged with the world around him, letting his hazy boundaries expand till he enveloped his family in himself. It was freeing and empowering to be a part of the howling wind, the impartial snow, but he used his siblings as a touchstone, and holding onto his goal, he began to scour the mountain.

    Higher and higher he rose, the conditions only getting more and more extreme until, as if passing a invisible barrier, he burst through the clouds to expose the cold sky above.

    And there, on the fraction of the mountain above the clouds lay a beast.

    It was a massive bear, bigger than any beast Gilded had ever seen before. The snow around it danced, forming strange shapes and complex structures. It had been sleeping, but when Gilded lay eyes on it, its eyes snapped open and it swelled a confused gaze to him.

    Then rage filled its eyes as it roared.

    It struck Gilded like a physical glow, infused with truths of bloody ice and cold white. It was a roar beyond what a common beast could muster, and fear sunk into him as he realized what they faced.

    An awakened beast.

    Gilded snapped back to his body just fast enough to hear the last echoes of the roar bouncing away.

    He turned to his family, panic evident in his eyes.

    ¡°Run!¡±

    To their credit, they didn''t hesitate before taking off, Matt indicating the best direction to take. Ice and snow crunched beneath their feet as they zoomed down the mountain, performing stunts that should have been possible. Chrono brought up the back, easily keeping pace despite his seemingly advanced age.

    As the roars grew closer, Gilded extended his path to his siblings, inviting them to join a unity where their strengths would become one. They gladly accepted, but when he tried to include Chrono, he was immediately rebuffed. Still, he kept pace with their greatly increased speed.

    Still the bear seemed to be bridging the gap.

    They went all out, unity drawing forth their full power in novel ways. Tara¡¯s power was directed into their legs, while Matt¡¯s stabilized the ground. Jul¡¯s power heated the air, warming their bodies and bringing new wind to their tired muscles. They warped the world around them, changing it to their benefit.

    And yet the bear was still gaining.

    When it finally came into view, a white dot against white snow, it became apparent why.

    The bear manipulated the snow around it, using it to eliminate every obstacle in its path, from friction to rocks. It accelerated on a straight path, redirecting itself with slides of ice whenever necessary. Gilded nearly tripped upon seeing such blatant manipulation of reality, only saved by Tara¡¯s guiding hand.

    Awakened beast were this powerful?

    The situation seemed desperate as the bear drew closer, hurling at them like a white missile, roars shaking the world. With a heavy heart, Gilded realized they could not outrun it. His siblings came to the same conclusion. Yet, just before they turned around to face their end, the roars grew fainter, distorted. Something lurched in them as they became aware of something that had always been there.

    Something that was now altered.

    Chrono was suddenly in front of them. ¡°Keep running¡± He commanded, ¡°The beast shall not reach us.¡±

    Gilded snuck a glance backwards, and sure enough, the beast was slowly vanishing into the distance, its motion so slow it looked as if it was barely moving.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I accelerated our timestream. Now, hurry up. I cannot hold this forever.¡±

    So, in that world, of frozen time, they outran even the beast''s roars.

 12.2 - Generations

    The fire crackled merrily before them, easing the persistent chill that had accompanied them since the encounter with the bear. Everyone huddled together, well everyone except Chrono who sat quietly in the corner. Jul tended to the fire, idly running hands through it to draw shapes made of dancing fire.

    ¡°That was way too close,¡± Gilded groaned.

    A chorus of agreement met his proclamation, though Tara only nodded silently.

    ¡°I thought we were goners,¡± Matt agreed.

    ¡°Hey¡± complained Tyre, fingering his sword hilt, ¡°I could have taken him!¡±

    Persy, who had been silently playing with the flowers in her hair, snorted.

    ¡°I could have! I can cut anything!¡± He flicked a bare hand, sending out a flicker of cutting intent to sever one of Jul¡¯s fire drawings. She turned to glare at him and he sheepishly apologized.

    Jona chuckled. ¡°You think that could have handled such a beast? No, a bigger weapon is required for such a beast.¡± He motioned to his hammer. ¡°Now that would do it.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah¡± Tyre retorted, ¡°Well I¡­¡±

    Gilded let their voices drift over him, bringing warmth greater than the fire ever could. With his siblings, he felt alive in a way he rarely did otherwise. Part of something greater than just himself. He looked over at Chrono, and wondered how he bore the loneliness. He seemed content, though Gilded could not fathom why. He wanted to go over and ask, but something about Chrono, namely the small smile dancing over his lips as his closed eyes gazed into something Gilded couldn''t see, stopped him.

    Each to their own.

    Gilded refocused on his sibling just in time to stop Jona and Tyre from getting into a fight.

    ¡°Come on guys. What''s important is that we survived. All of us.¡± He swept his gaze over his siblings, and with a brush of will, called their attention to him.

    ¡°This day has shown us that the world is more dangerous than we thought. That there are storms that scour the earth and beasts that control it. That there are plains that span the earth and mountains that pierce the sky.¡±

    He swept his gaze across them.

    ¡°The world is vast and mighty, inconceivable. We are nothing to it. And yet¡­ here we are. Having crossed the endless plain and scaled the sky piercing mountains. Having weathered the all-encompassing storms and outrun the inescapable beasts. In the eye of the world, together, we have proven ourselves worthy. And we will continue to do so.¡±

    The only sound in the cave was the crackling fire and Gilded drew in a quiet breath. He closed his eyes briefly, basking in the silence before opening them with new energy.

    ¡°Come beast or storm, we will overcome them all. Victory is our birthright, and now is the time to claim it. Our family is counting on us, and together, we will not fail them¡±

    Silence met his proclamation. Then Kel started laughing. ¡°You sound just like your dad!¡±

    The others joined in the laughing, and soon even an annoyed Gilded joined in.

    And beyond the fire, it was the laughter that finally dispelled the persistent chill.

    Leaving only warmth behind.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    The journey resumed soon after, taking them out of the mountains and through the winding foothills beyond. They seemed endless, an eternal sea of green waves, bright in the shining sun.

    But with time, even they passed, revealing a rich scorching land of red clay and majestic canyons. They met beast¡¯s there, creatures of poison and fire, but together they managed to overcome them all.

    Finally, months after they had left home, months of freezing in the cold mountains and baking in the scorching desert, months of fighting and traveling and surviving and living, they found their destination.

    At last.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    The fire that night was more energetic than usual, the joy at finally making it enveloping them. The real work would begin in the morning.

    The night, however, belonged to revelry.

    And celebrate they did, the few mind altering plants Persy had collected being fed into the fire, infusing it with strange properties. Jul protested at first, but was rapidly placated by the strange fumes, and began to trace what appeared to be an upside-down mountain. Cara joined in, complementing her mountains with smoky details.

    Tyre and Jona were playing an unnamed game of speed, where one struck out with a reed and the other tried to dodge. Even in their addled states, their motions blurred, tracing arcane patterns through the wind. Kel laughed as he watched, occasionally flinging a small rock to distract one or the other.

    Even Tara relaxed, leaning against Hypno and waking him long enough for him to sleepily wrap an arm around his shoulders.

    Gilded smiled as he watched then. This was what he lived for. This glorious unity of not mind and body, but emotion and joy. To maintain oneself under the banner of something greater.

    To let it augment rather than envelop.

    Matt, at his side, let out a contented sigh. ¡°Finally, we did it.¡±

    Gilded chuckled. ¡°You know this is only the beginning, right? We still need to collect the materials. And from what you¡¯ve said, it''s going to be quite the hassle.¡±

    Matt groaned. ¡°Just let me have this!¡±

    A rock flew out of the haze and struck him on the head with a soft thunk. ¡°¡®Ow! Kel!¡±

    A smile stretched across Gilded¡¯s lips as he watched his brother surge into the smoke. He was glad they were all here. Well, all except one.

    Chrono sat alone, frail body lonely against the fire¡¯s dancing light. A faint tugging urged Gilded to engage, and following his instincts, he approached the son of Adam.

    Chrono snapped out of his trance as Gilded approached. ¡°Son of Micheal¡± he nodded. ¡°What can I help you with?¡±

    He was always like this, separate and impersonal, and while it lacked malice, it was normally sufficient to drive Gilded off.

    But not tonight.

    Gilded sat directly in front of Chrono, feeling the furthest reaches of the fire¡¯s heat lapping his back. ¡°Why don¡¯t you join us? Just this once, in celebration of achieving our objective.¡±

    ¡°We are not done yet.¡±

    ¡°Even so¡±

    He thought for a moment. ¡°I shall have to decline.¡±

    ¡°Why.¡±

    Chrono observed him for a second, as if surprised by the blunt question, then seemed to come to a decision. ¡°Follow me.¡± he commanded, standing up and marching into the night.

    Gilded hesitated for a second before following.

    The further they got from the fire, the colder it got. But they were both beyond such concerns, and after a few minutes of walking through the hard rocky ground, they arrived at a pile of rocks larger than the rest. Not quite a mountain, nor even a hill, but nevertheless it towered over their flat surroundings.

    The darkness was no obstacle to their climb and shortly they found themselves at the top. The view, even through the dark, was marvelous, with the orange glow of the fire at their backs and the cold light of the stars at the front.

    ¡°We are seeing the past.¡±

    Gilded nearly fell off the rock upon hearing Chrono speak, having nearly forgotten of his presence. Chrono continued unimpeded.

    ¡°Each of the stars in the sky shines bright. So bright the sun would be considered dim among them. And they are so far it takes light itself thousands of years to reach here. We are seeing their past. They are the past.¡±

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    He turned to Gilded.

    ¡°And soon, I will be too. Me and my siblings.¡±

    He turned back.

    ¡°You see, we are those stars. We shine brilliantly, isolated in our domains. We are fiercely independent, refusing to take the hand of another. We are pure, beholden to our path and nothing else. And as we traverse our paths, we become more like them. We are those stars, shining ever brighter, and from ever further distances.¡±

    He sighed.

    ¡°I used to think that was the only way. That we are each individuals, fighting and dying alone. And yet¡­ you are different. You and your siblings. You do not live for your paths, but rather use them as a means to an end. You live together, rather than alone. It makes you weak, and yet¡­ you gain something in the process. Something that I am steadily losing as I progress further and further. As I become more and more foreign.¡±

    Something in him shifted and as if he shed a cloak he had been wearing, he suddenly became something else. An eternal grindstone, one which wore away at all things. A river nothing could escape, even him. A promise, a constant beyond the reach of even gods.

    He suddenly felt a thousand miles away, as far as the stars.

    He spoke in the voice of ages, a tongue so far removed from Gilded own it should have been incomprehensible, but drawing on unity Gilded made do.

    A million voices spoke, from a thousand different times yet they spoke one thing.

    ¡®I am time¡± It said, ¡°And I see further than ever before. The pathed will become rare, weak. And in the place of their individual might, a collective will rise up. Humanity. And with a billion voices, and a trillion faces, they shall decide the fate of this era.¡±

    The thing turned to look at Gilded with endless eyes.

    ¡°You are the future.¡±

    Then it was gone and Chrono stood where it once had. He quietly stared at the stars, as if lost in thought. The world was silent except for Gilded¡¯s harsh breathing.

    ¡°What was that?!¡±

    Chrono smiled, still looking at the stars.

    ¡°That was me. Me as I truly am.¡±

    He turned back to Gilded.

    ¡°Now do you see why I would rather sit alone?¡±

    Gilded could only nod.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    Gilded was silent as they walked back, and still quiet when he rejoined his siblings. They could sense he needed space, and left him to his thoughts as they frolicked about.

    Here the light of the fire, drowned out the light of the stars, obscuring their ancient glory.

    And man eclipsed the heavens.

    Gilded thought of Chrono¡¯s words.

    And slowly, a thread of understanding began to worm into him.

    Perhaps they were the future after all.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    The next few days were busy.

    The challenges of the road had been replaced with those of a more sedentary nature.

    Different, but no less difficult.

    Under the direction of Matt, they gathered the and shaped the tools needed for their operation, erecting settlements and securing food sources.

    And slowly but surely, a new city began to rise from the rocky ground, building by building, flower by flower.

    A home away from home, a foothold in this grand new world.

    The future seemed to loom closer.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    The ground was cracked and splintered as Persy¡¯s roots forced their way through, and turned to dust by Tara¡¯s merciless palms. Matt walked out of the dust, another chunk of metal in hand, and tossed it to Tyre before returning to the dusty world below.

    Tyre tossed it to Jona without missing a beat and Jona tossed it to the fire where Jul seized it. She plunged it into the fire, calling upon its heat to purify the raw ore. Cara worked beside her, reaching into its smoky depths to extract strands of impurities, which once more became fuel for the everburning flame.

    The refined ore was then tossed to Kel, who guided it to its final resting place, a dusty clay storehouse. Hypno stirred nearby before going back to sleep, the burden of their exhaustion difficult for even one such as him to bear.

    Gilded felt them all keenly from his position on the small rock mound overlooking them. His path stretched over them, like a divine conductor, guiding them into the rhythm. It was glorious, Gilded could truly see that now. They were separate, but they were one.

    A collective of immeasurable power, many faces of one.

    Humanity.

    They were the future. It seemed inevitable.

    And so, lost in the music of the collective, Gilded continued his conducting.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    The first warning was a faint prick at the ends of Kel¡¯s senses, though through the unity they felt it all, and focusing on it together, it resolved.

    It was another awakened beast, this one a long slithering creature, as red as the sand it glided upon. Black ridges adorned its head, appearing to form a dark crown.

    It reeked of poison and death.

    And it was heading right at them.

    A moment of deliberation found a consensus reached. They would not run, not now. The collective reordered preparing for war. A thousand plans manifested before their collective consciousness, being refined and discarded until one was chosen.

    The snake surged over the rocky ground, concealing itself behind rocks till it was within striking distance. The world seemed to hold its breath as It coiled up, visible only through Kel¡¯s widespread eyes. Then, with a rustling exhale, it struck.

    One to find itself met with Jona¡¯s hammer. A loud hiss rang out as the beast reeled back, shaken by Jona¡¯s blow. Tara, light as a feather, ran along its back and struck the same place with preternatural force before flipping to Jona¡¯s side. Tyre stepped out beside them, even the air itself flinching from his drawn blade.

    They stood as one, and the snake flinched back at their aura. But it was an awakened beast, and it was not without power of its own. A swirling domain erupted from it, a patchwork of swirling black mist and orange flame that merged together to become a tornado of sicky green flames.

    Jul, overlooking the battle beside Kel, raised a hand and forced the flames down, weakening them to the point where a swing from Tyre split the cloud in two, just in time for Jona and Tara to land another blow. Persy joined in, summoning roots to bind its movements, and Cara guided strands of its own poisonous haze to obscure its eyes.

    And as one, they fell upon it.

    Metal glinted in the sun and roots erupted from the earth as the ground around them was shredded. The wounds were slowly accumulating on the snake, spilling black blood to hiss on the red sand. They may not be paragons, but together, even the paragons could be brought low before them.

    But they were tiring.

    Directly forcing the world to bend before them was a tiring proposition and even with Hypno subsuming the majority if their exhaustion into himself, they wouldn''t last much longer

    But neither would the snake.

    And with its fall, it would be done.

    Humanity would be on the stage.

    They pressed harder, watching as it faltered and retreated. It tried to flee, summoning great gouts of green flame to cover its path, but was cut off by Kel throwing stones with supernatural accuracy, borrowing Tara¡¯s force to make them powerful. Tyre arrived shortly to send it reeling with another sundering slash.

    Finally seeming to accept its fate, it drew itself to its full height, covering itself in sickly fire. It looked fierce, but they could sense it was on its last legs. Jona took point, preparing the finishing blow as the other cleared a path.

    He lept into the air, hammer trailing behind him. He brought it over his head in a wide arm, sending sunrays carrening over the desert as he brought it down with undeniable force.

    A blur was all the warning he had before he was swiped from the air.

    Suddenly, the weak pressure coming from the snake tripled, and its wounds began to heal at a visible rate. Awareness struck them like a cold shower.

    It had been letting them strike blows, all to lure them away. As to why, Gilded couldn''t begin to guess but all that mattered now was survival.

    Persy¡¯s roots erupted before Jona, pure fire dancing along them courtesy of Jul and Cara. The snake''s coiling strike took him through the triply enforced barrier like it was paper, fangs leaking corrosive venom as he flew towards Jona in a red blur.

    Time seemed to slow as Gilded waited with horror for the snake to strike his exhausted and wounded brother.

    And it continued to slow.

    Then it stopped.

    Gilded could no longer move, could barely think, yet he recognized the voice that spoke.

    ¡°You may be the future¡± the thousand voices of time said, ¡°But the future has yet to come.¡±

    Through frozen time, Gilded got the impression of a colossal fist rising, preparing to strike down at the frozen snake. Gilded could almost see its eyes rolling in hopeless terror.

    ¡°It is still the present,¡± the voice continued, ¡°And here, power is king.¡±

    The colossal fist came down.

    And before his eyes, the snake aged. Vibrant crimson faded to dull red which faded to pale pink. From pale pink emerged a skeleton of white, until time ground even that into dust.

    And soon, even that dust vanished into nothing.

    Time remained frozen for one more instant, before crashing back with vengeance. They stumbled back as the world warped around them, protesting at the abuse it had suffered.

    Chrono stood in front of them, his true nature once more concealed in his frail human form. He observed them wearily before waving a hand and letting time wash away their wounds.

    ¡°Careful¡± he said.

    Then, as soon as he had come, he was gone.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    The night the fire was subdued. Their near death had shaken them, shaken their faith in their nascent collective.

    And reflecting on the events of the day, Gilded couldn''t blame them. He still believed, but the overwhelming power of the beast and Chrono seemed unreal.

    Unapproachable.

    Gilded knew they would get there eventually, but now it seemed futile.

    They may be the future.

    But the future had yet to come.

    And unspeakable things still wandered the world.

    Gilded shivered.

    And the rest shivered with him.

 13 - The Lord of Strength

    Atonement is a glorious thing. To own up to one''s errors and strive to correct them is among the greatest accomplishments one can claim. But Hercules took it to the next level. As humanity expanded, establishing more and more outposts, the conflict between man and beast raged to new levels, with the outposts and beats locked in constant war. Hercules, and all his immense strength, was charged with protecting the most vulnerable of these outposts. And he failed, so lost in battle lust he neglected his duty. But he was offered a chance to atone. By whom I know not, but he seized it with vigor only the lord of strength could. And reminded us, that no matter the sins heaped upon us, there is always a path to atonement. For us and for them.

    Hercules tore through the beast like fire through an empty field.

    Their futile attacks bounced off his iron muscles and their terrified sounds fell upon deaf ears. Their bodies failed to even slow the lord of strength as he burst through them in bloody showers. Ahead, the rest of the creatures, a herd of flesh-eating horses, radiating auras of hunger and consumption, fled, desperately trying to outpace the crimson figure at their tail. Hercules finished off the last of the stragglers with a punch that made it burst like a popped wineskin, before turning his gaze to the rest.

    A smile crept across his face, its pearly white a sharp contrast with his blood-drenched form and crimson eyes. He crouched down, eyes intent upon his prey. The few patches of his body uncovered by blood flexed tanned muscles.

    The world seemed to stand still as the ever-moving titan absorbed all the world¡¯s movement into himself.

    Then, with a mighty roar, he jumped.

    The ground underneath him, once a pristine steppe, shattered into chunks as he soared through the air, blood streaming behind him, revealing a perfectly sculpted body, rippling with violent intent.

    He landed in the middle of them like a cannonball, breaking their graceful legs and sending their broken bodies flying.

    Then he was upon them. A swung arm severed head from body. A raised knee, shattered ribs. An open-handed slap popped one like a crimson pinata, showering the rest with its innards. Hercules turned into a blur, so lost in the music of violence he needn''t consider his next move.

    And then it was over, leaving a triumphant Hercules in a field of corpses. He was panting, not from exhaustion, but from the pure excitement, the pure pleasure of the battle. He looked at his stained fists, wondering how any of his siblings could bear to use weapons when they were born with the greatest weapons of all.

    But as his adrenaline faded, Hercules found himself dissatisfied. This had been no battle. A slaughter maybe, but no battle. He remembered the days walking the line between life and death, where every breath had been a struggle and every kill hard-fought.

    He missed the challenge.

    So he stalked deeper into the wild, in search of one who could finally match him.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------.

    Smoke rose in the distance, bringing hints of the near past with it. Hercules¡¯ brow wrinkled in irritation. He thought he had told those stupid kids to not light any fires. He sped up, heedless of the trees knocked over in his rush. The outpost had been carved into a mountain through the hard work of one of Hephas¡¯ sons, and Hercules loved it, though he wasn''t so happy about the forest surrounding its front. He made a point of showing that to the forest every time he returned. He figured that sooner or later it would all be gone and the outpost would finally be perfect

    His feet pounded the loamy ground, leaving craters in his wake, which were soon obscured by the falling trees. He opened his mouth, and in a voice loud enough to wake the dead, yelled, ¡°CHILDREN! I¡¯M HOME!¡±

    That usually got a few surprised squeals and sighs of exasperation, but this time no such reactions wandered to Hercules waiting ears. He frowned, wondering if they were mad at him. He was supposed to be watching them at all times afterall, but he figured they could handle themselves.

    Still, a seed of worry warmed its way into his heart, and he picked up the space, felling trees at an even more prodigious rate. Soon he came to a familiar area, one populated with more fallen trees than intact ones, a convergence zone of his past entrances, and high above it, clearly visible in the lacking canopy, was a dark cloud.

    Heart racing, Hercules released the last restraints on his strength and burst forward, space warping around the power of his sculpted body. A few tremendous leaps brought him to the outpost.

    Or what once was the outpost.

    Its mighty gates were cracked and shattered, fragmented mosaics of men slaying beasts scattered all about. The mighty cliff the outpost was built in stood strong, but plumes of smoke escaped the various windows and openings.

    ¡°CHILDREN!¡± Hercules roared, loud enough to shake the stone, ¡°WHERE ARE YOU?¡±

    When no answer graced his roar, he charged into the smoky outpost, only for a wisp of smoke slithering by his nose to bring him to a trembling stop.

    The smell of burning flesh was hard to forget.

    Panicked now, he tore through the halls, passing blood stains and shattered carvings in ceaseless pursuit of that terrible smoke. They seemed to be leading to one of the back exits, and for a moment, hope filled his heart, only to be dashed as he was forced to turn deeper into the outpost.

    Finally, he stood before the doors to the great hall, which were surprisingly intact despite their carvings having been scratched away by some great claw. Smoke escaped over the top of the door in long streams. Hercules hesitated momentarily, scared of what he would find, before steeling his heart and pushing the doors open.

    A wall of black smoke struck him like a physical force, the horrible smell pressing down on him with a weight greater than anything he''d ever felt. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, to leave and never come back, To pretend that these halls were untouched and that this had been nothing more than a dream.

    But he was the lord of strength, and strength was about more than slaying mighty foes.

    With a deep, choking breath, he began to windmill his arms, slow at first, but increasingly faster until they became a blur. The smoke rushed out of the room in a black river, leaving behind black-stained walls, all devoid of the intricate carving that had once covered them. Hercules took in the hall slowly, noting the clawed-away carving and chattered tables. Even Pristina¡¯s sculptures had been reduced to mere rubble.

    Finally, when he could delay no more, he turned his head to the center of the grand hall.

    And there, sitting quietly in the hall that had once rang with such joy, was a pile of charred bodies. Even charred beyond recognition, Hercules could still recognize them.

    The small dagger clutched to Heraen''s chest.

    The crooked set of Jayat¡¯s arm.

    The missing tooth in Agin¡¯s smile.

    One by one, he took them in, the children he had been supposed to protect. The children that had trusted him to protect them. The children he had loved, and the children that had loved him. The children he had failed.

    Then finally, he came to the most painful of all.

    Hyalla, fists clenched even in death.

    His son.

    He didn''t know how long he stood staring, the weight of his failure pressing down upon him. The weight of his mistakes.

    If only he¡¯d been stronger, the beast would have not existed to do this.

    If only he¡¯d been faster he could have made it here in time.

    If only he¡¯d been wiser then he would never have left them.

    If only he¡¯d been kinder, then he could have taught them the art of war.

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    If only he¡¯d been better, then they would still live.

    He fell to his knees with an echoing thud, the sound resounding through the room as his strength failed him for the first time in his life. He had dealt with loss before, but this loss had been entirely his fault.

    Entirely of his making.

    And under the weight of that knowledge, he crumbled.

    He could feel the path he had painstakingly forged for himself trembling under that realization, and in an attempt to cling to its deteriorating essence, he thrust a weak fist into the ground.

    An ember of rage deep within him flared.

    He struck again, a bit harder this time.

    It flared brighter.

    Again.

    And again.

    And again.

    Then he was mercilessly pounding the floor, feeling grief transform into an all-consuming blaze, setting him alight even as it brought down the outpost Izikel had so painstakingly built.

    The cliff above could no longer take the punishment, and with a rumbling roar, it collapsed upon Hercules, burying him next to the corpses of his charges.

    He continued to punch, lost in his rage, his windups destroying the stone above him and his blows the stone below him.

    It was only hours later, after rage had run its course, leaving him with hollow nothing, did he stop.

    And in the dark, accompanied by nothing but the bodies of those he had failed, Hercules, Lord of Strength, closed his eyes and embraced the dark.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------------

    When the sun rose the next morning, bathing the world in the light of new, Hercules was still buried. And when the sun set, he stayed buried.

    The next day failed to unearth him.

    And so did the day after that.

    A week found another of the lesser generations, weeping over the fallen stronghold of his brothers. Hercules began to stir, but before he could fully awaken, the young man fled on streaks of crackling lightning.

    Week after week, his penance continued, the weight of the earth complementing the weight of his mistakes. It was strangely familiar to me, a feeling tickling just out of reach of my waking mind. So I watched, reaching for something in the deep past even as the present played out before my eyes.

    Time blended together, the sun turning into an orange streak across an ever changing sky. In distant battles, man and beast alike died, pierced by claw and fang and sword, the ground thirstily drinking in their blood.

    Yet in the peaceful pile of rubble, the Lord of Strength still slumbered.

    A year passed with no change.

    Then another.

    Then another.

    The feeling was so tantalizing close I could almost touch it, a flicker in the corner of my eyes, visible if only I could turn fast enough.

    Another year passed.

    I reached out, simultaneously a divine being in the heavens above and a mortal man, struggling for salvation in the bowels of the earth.

    And I touched it.

    Something came to me. It was faint, nothing more than a series of vague feelings, separated from the context that generated them.

    But It was enough.

    I remembered the dark, the crushing weight of failure and responsibility. I remembered atonement, a bloody dagger run over my shriveled body each day, a reminder of my failures. I remembered arrows, working their way into my flesh, parallel to dim understanding working its way into my mind.

    And I remembered light, driving back the light with new purpose.

    I remembered a hand, reaching out in the light.

    The glare faded and before me stood¡­

    The scene faded to static, leaving me frustrated and irritated.

    Still, as I gazed at Hercules¡¯ prone form, empathy wormed into me. I had once been there, even if the memory had long since returned to dust. But some things could not be forgotten, and I remembered the dark well.

    But I also remembered the light.

    With a thought, I stepped through the barrier separating the heavens and earth, bridging the distance between my outpost and the mortal world. As I stepped my power folded into itself, hiding its presence from the fragile mortal world.

    My bare foot, met sharp rocks, and they shattered before my might. I was atop the ruins of Hercules¡¯ outpost, a sea of broken rock for as far as the eye could see. The sky was clear and blue, the noon sun high overhead. I looked around, noting the mountains in the distance and forest ahead, but mostly marveling at the hands I held in front of myself.

    It had been many years since I had assumed human form and strangely enough I had assumed the same form I had once assumed to greet my first children.

    I was tall, with rich chocolate skin and a smooth hairless head. Lean muscles covered my body, lining my arms and legs. But most striking was my brilliant azure eyes. Like something had carved chunks out of the sky and shoved them into my head.

    It was familiar and comfortable, like slipping into one''s own bed after an eternity of traveling.

    But I had not come to admire myself. I could sense Hercules, hundreds of feet below, stirring in my presence. I began to pick up and toss rocks aside, taking pleasure from the simple physical task. The distance between us began to shrink, and in response to my presence I felt the last few embers of Hercules¡¯ path flare, unwilling to go down without a fight, even with his brokenness.

    Then the mountain of his failures reasserted itself and quenched the last embers of his spirit.

    I picked up the pace, and when I finally broke into the chambers, I found Hercules looking at me with dead eyes. He was filthy and shriveled, with even the inches of dust covering him falling to restore him to his original stature.

    He was a shadow of the man he had once been, only alive due to the last embers of his path refusing to give in.

    I cleared my through, and spoke, voice rusty from eons of disuse.

    ¡°Hercules¡± I rasped, ¡°Enough. Your family awaits above. If you must atone, do it in service to them¡±

    He did not stir.

    I tried again. ¡°Hercules. Your family bleeds above without you. WIll you leave them to die?¡±

    A twitch of his fists. I had struck a nerve.

    I tried once more, this time seeking that nerve. ¡°Hercules, have you not already slain enough with your incompetence?¡±

    A clenched fist.

    ¡°Is this what it means to be the Lord of Strength, cowering in a cave while your people die alone?¡±

    Those embers flared again, and for a second I thought I had done it, only to witness that mountain once more extinguish the embers. I need no more proof.

    Words would not be enough.

    I pondered for a while, searching for a solution. Rays of light streamed through the tunnel I had carved, setting the floating dust afire. It made me think of the light of another day, when a hand had lifted me from the dark. One second, I was looking down at Hercules¡¯ prone form, ringed in light, and the next I was that prone form, kneeling in defeat as another stretched out a hand. The light was there, illuminating my surroundings, though they remained too blurry for me to make out.

    And it burned, searing truth into me.

    Once more that hand stretched itself towards me, but faded to static before I could grasp it, once more leaving looming over Hercules.

    But that was ok. I had my answer.

    I walked over to Hercules, put a hand on his unresponsive shoulder, and punched him hard enough to send him through dozens of feet of solid stone.

    The awakening, the enlightenment was never pain free. In fact, it almost always burns forcing the mind to acclimate to new truths. If Hercules would not take my word, then I would sear the truth into him with the language he understood best.

    Strength.

    I strode into the trench his body had carved, commanding it to enlarge around me so I could fit. I could feel Hercules¡¯ shock, feel him struggling to reassert himself to face this challenge. But I could also feel the weight reasserting itself, and pressing down with unyielding will.

    So I struck him again, this time harder, watching as his body burst through the top of the rubble, soaring into the sky. This time, he managed to recover enough to rotate in air, landing on one knee.

    ¡°Wh-¡±

    I struck him again, watching as he tumbled and bounded along the ground, leaving pulverized stone and trees in his wake. Finally, gaining a bit of his power back, he flipped and stuck his hands into the ground, leaving two long furrows in order to bring himself to a halt.

    His path blazed brightly now, shining with indignation and rage so bright it held back even the weight for the time being. He let out a guttural roar and charged, fists leading his massive leap. I smoothly ducked under his strike, and struck back, the movement coming as if instinct.

    Hercules managed to arrest his momentum immediately, only sliding back a few feet, before charging back.

    Into the beating of lifetime.

    It mattered not how hard he struck, how fast he moved.

    I struck harder, I moved faster.

    And in my fists I conveyed all the things that words could never.

    Let go, my fists whispered they are gone. Do not bury yourself with them.

    I must atone! His sobbed, I must suffer the weight of my actions.

    No, Mine proclaimed, suffering is not the way to atonement.

    THEN WHAT IS! His howled.

    Observe. And learn.

    The raw nature of grief and guilt poured out of me in a series of slow rolling punches, rapidly chipping down his surging momentum.

    Next came retribution, a series of vicious raging blows that sent Hercules stumbling and rocks flying.

    The nature of the lonely black followed, ineffective in its stationary blows, striking nothing.

    Then came acceptance, a series of moves undefined, freed from the grief, perfectly suited for the situation, made to achieve what the grief and retribution could not.

    Hercules fought back, pitting his truth against mine. But I had been here before, even if I couldn''t remember, and the lessons had stayed with me. Every brutal argument was rebutted, and every attempt at retreating to apathy crushed.

    Still he fought, refusing to yield that darkness.

    So I showed him the end, what could become of such a path.

    Atonement. Redemption. To be worthy once more. To be proud once more.

    My body became light, and shedding my mortal form once more I struck with the force of god, filling my fist with that unfettered atonement, that divine forgiveness. And just like how such forgiveness washes away the pain, my blow washed away Hercules'' resistance.

    When the shockwave faded and the light dimmed, Hercules'' smoking, mortally wounded body stared up at me with groggy eyes, desperately trying to crawl out of the massive crater he lay in. Then he slumped forward and fell unconscious.

    I looked down at him, and sighing, ascended back to the heavens.

    I had helped him enough.

    The rest was up to him.

 13.2 - The Lion

    The world had been reduced to a series of blurry shapes, a fragmented mess of shattered reality. Hercules could vaguely feel his body, knitting together from the catastrophic damage it had suffered.

    Damage he struggled to remember the source of.

    He remembered their deaths, the guilt that had chipped away at him and the raging retribution that had buried him.

    He remembered the dark, cold and lonely.

    And then¡­ a flash. A awakening.

    And now his broken body lay in a crater so deep Hercules was not sure he could escape it in his wounded state. Not sure he wanted to try. The darkness loomed at the edges of his vision, taunting him with visions of gentle oblivion and empty bliss.

    Tempting him with an end to the pain. An end to everything.

    But something else lurked in the corners of his mind as well.

    A blow so powerful, so brilliant it had nearly ended him. A light so powerful it had knocked the darkness right out of him. A truth so true its corners seared his mind with untenable pain.

    A truth Hercules somehow knew, as surely as if it had been beaten into him.

    His children were dead. The darkness was a liar. It would not bring them back, nor would it bring them joy if they were to watch him succumb to it.

    Atonement comes from action, divorced of grief and rage, executed with the intent at bettering something, at being worthy of the legacy left behind by the fallen.

    Only then would that divine light bathe him, acknowledging him as worthy once more, and although it would not absolve him from the weight of his mistakes, nothing ever truly would, it would stand beside him, supporting him, freeing him.

    And that would have to be enough.

    Hercules already knew the labors he would carry out in atonement''s name.

    The beast that had slain his children were mere pawns, likely dead at the hands of their brethren and his by now. What mattered was what had guided them to his children in the first place. What had given them the confidence to venture so far into enemy territory.

    And he knew the answer.

    In the past years, the beasts had grown far more bold than ever before, expanding further than ever and mounting more and more aggressive attacks against humanity.

    All due to the rise of the three crown princes, beast princes of such power they were second only to Dargonth himself.

    The Golden Lion, the World Serpent, and the Eternal Phoenix.

    His broken body began to move, bound to new purpose, and in his every thunderous heart beat, he could feel their end.

    Dawn had barely broken when he finally stumbled out of the crater, and back to the sun, he began to limp to the western plains, each step more sure than the last.

    There he would find the Golden Lion.

    And there the first of the crown princes would die.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    The long golden grass rustled gently in the wind, bending and swaying under its calm flows. The sky overhead was blue, not a cloud in sight. It should have been a peaceful sight, endless golden grass meeting blue sky, but a palpable aura of fear perpetrated the plains. A singular awareness lurked at the edge of one''s awareness, warning them.

    A predator lurked here.

    Most would have turned around and left, but Hercules had come here to seek out that predator. His steps were sure and unbound as he made his way deeper into the grasslands, feeling the aura intensify, almost as if trying to scare him off.

    He scoffed. This aura was nothing compared to Micheals.

    He traveled for days without seeing a single other living thing, accompanied by nothing more than the swaying grass and his own determination.

    Finally, in the distance, a faint speck became visible, and as Hercules approached, it grew, changing from a speck into a great rock as big as a castle. It was a plain rock, muddy brown and streaked with cracks, but the aura coming from it made it feel like a hungry beast. Or rather, the aura coming from the creature atop of it.

    As Hercules began his final approach, it lazily got to its feet, stretching with calm confidence. As close as he was, Hercules could finally make out his foe.

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    The Golden Lion was a creature with a mane of spun gold and rippling muscles. It was not large, perhaps only as large as Hercules himself, but he knew not to underestimate its power. Under the noon sun, it shone like a miniature star, and its towering aura only enforced that impression. It finished stretching and walked over to gaze down at Hercules with detached amusement.

    ¡°What are you doing here, Human?¡± it questioned, its voice a deep purr.

    Hercules only stared at it, struggling to contain his towering rage. He tried to convince himself of the futility of wrathful vengeance, reminding himself of how it had burned him out and buried him. Surprisingly, understanding came easily, and he felt his fist uncleach and his mind still.

    The lion had watched in amusement as Hercules struggled to gain his bearings. ¡°What''s wrong, Human? Cat¡¯s got your tongue?¡±

    Hercules just stared at his open hands in wonder, feeling the control he now wielded. He wondered for a moment where he had learned such lessons, but quickly tossed aside the irrelevant thought. Rage and pain, at least for this fight, would not rule him. He closed his eyes and tuned out the arrogant cat, reaching for the path that had been carved into his body, again and again.

    Strength.

    A towering aura erupted out of him, filled with the nature of power itself, matching the lions. Its arrogance immediately vanished as it let out a low growl. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±

    Hercules responded with a punch, striking the air with such force a shockwave erupted from his fist, rushing out to impact the great rock the lion had been resting on. It shattered with a dull boom, sending the lion leaping up into the air, roaring in anger.

    To its credit, it reacted immediately, pushing off air and throwing itself towards Hercules in a streak of gold, fangs flashing. Hercules met its head with his fist, refusing to back down in a frontal collision. The world stilled for a second, frozen at the moment of impact.

    Then, with an explosion that flattened the grass for hundreds of feet, the lion was thrown back. It twisted gracefully to land on its feet, recovering its composure immediately.

    ¡°I see. One of the First.¡± It began to prowl around him, stalking him as it might stalk prey. ¡°What made you come here now?¡±

    Hercules didn¡¯t respond.

    It snorted, its arrogance returning. ¡°Very well, keep your secrets. You won''t be leaving here alive anyway.¡±

    With that it charged once more, striking out with a vicious claw.

    And was blown back.

    It charged again.

    And was thrown back once more.

    Again and again it came, and again and again it was thrown back.

    Then grasslands around them had been reduced to a series of massive craters, the landscape unable to handle the clash of the two titans.

    And still the lion came.

    Hercules fought perfectly, giving everything he had to that battle, countering every attack with one of his own, dominating and exceeding the lion at every turn.

    Yet it just seemed to keep coming.

    Endlessly.

    Inexorably.

    Inevitably.

    Its aura only seemed to grow with every blow it received, its strikes growing the tiniest bit stronger. At the beginning, they had been weak, weak enough to blow off easily, but now each one was approaching one of Hercules¡¯ blows in strength.

    And Hercules¡¯ strength was fading, his blows lacking the indomitable might that had defined his opening moves.

    ¡°You feel it, don''t you¡± the lion purred, ¡°The exhaustion sinking into your very bones. The growing fear. You are prey, and I the predator. Fight all you want, little human, the end comes all the same.¡±

    Its moves became less vicious, more playful, suddenly avoiding direct clashes and confusing Hercules with rapid movements. Then finally, it struck head on once more, and this time Hercules was not able to repel him. The next strike left a bloody gash along his arm, and the next ripped a chunk of flesh from his leg.

    Feeling the end approaching, the lion began to alternate between bloody blitzs and playful games, clearly enjoying itself. Hercules was soon a bloody mess, but the light in his eyes refused to dim.

    Finally, the lion stopped moving for a second, sitting down to observe Hercules, who looked less like a man and more like a half eaten cut of meat.

    ¡°Impressive human. To fight me for this long. But I tire of this game.¡±

    He lunged forward with such force the air behind him exploded with a dull boom, forming a cone behind him. Hercules came alive in that moment, drawing from reserves of speed and strength he didn''t know he had. With a slight adjustment he managed to duck under the bloody fangs and loop his arms around the lion''s neck. Its movement almost tore it free from his grip, but with the last of his strength he held on, taking the both to the ground.

    ¡°What?! What is the meaning of this?!¡±

    The lion began to trash and roar as Hercules began to squeeze his neck. It put up a mighty struggle, slamming him into the ground and cutting him with its claws alike, but closing his eyes, he refused to let go, squeezing the lion with body, path, and will.

    An eternity passed in the darkness, an eternity of pain and blood.

    When he woke up, he found himself lying atop the corpse of the Golden lion.

    He smiled, though the act sent a spike of agony through him.

    Then he let the dark embrace him.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    It was dusk when he finally woke up, feeling every one of his half-healed wounds as he rolled off the lion¡¯s corpse. In the dusk light its mane glowed a golden red.

    It truly had been a magnificent beast, though rotten inside.

    As the reality of his victory sank into him, Hercules felt like a great weight had been lifted from his back. He stood taller, his aura flaring with the introduction of new, unburdened power.

    He shifted his gaze back to the lion''s corpse, wondering at its seemingly invincible pelt.

    He grinned.

    To the victor the spoils.

 13.3 - The Serpent

    The lion pelt on Hercules shone in the sun, casting strange shadows around him. Devoid of the Golden Lion¡¯s rich blood, it had lost most of its invincibility, but it still remained incredibly strong and hard to tear.

    And it was warm, a necessity in this cold tundra.

    All was white for as far as he could see, a strange contrast with the never setting sun. It had taken months to arrive at this tundra, and months more to find his prey.

    In the distance, a faint black line obscured the horizon, looking for all the world like a distant mountain range. But Hercules knew better. The icy aura of death and entropy it emitted left no doubt as to its identity.

    The World Serpent was close.

    It only grew larger as he approached, revealing unblemished gray coils hundreds of feet high. The majority of its bulk was obscured, vanishing into various holes in the thick ice, but Hercules suspected it was miles long. It stirred as he approached, ruining Hercules¡¯ hopes of landing a deciding blow before the battle had even begun.

    The ice shook, cracks shooting through it as the serpent''s bulk reorganized itself. Overhead, clouds began to gather, obscuring the burning sun. A head appeared from the writhing mess, as large as the rest of it, and lowered itself to face Hercules. It had pitch black eyes, and massive fangs dripped with a clear liquid that silently fell through the ice like it didn''t even exist.

    It hissed, and meaning somehow found its way into Hercules¡¯ mind. ¡°So you are the one that slew the cat. Have you come to slay me too?¡±

    In response, Hercules¡¯ aura flared, bringing with it the sensation of a fist obscuring the heavens. He crouched, preparing to launch himself forward with inexorable might.

    Only to find his feet losing grip on the ice below as all friction vanished.

    The serpent hissed what might have been a laugh. ¡°It was foolish to challenge me in the depths of my domain. And for that foolishness, you will die. But first, why are you attacking us now? You never dared before.¡± The sensation of curiosity accompanied its words, calming Hercules¡¯ frantic struggling.

    He had time to figure this out.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of you¡± it continued, ¡°the bloodthirsty herald of the first. Yet you never dared challenge us crown princes before. Tell me why, and perhaps I will let you live.¡±

    Hercules lifted his head, struggling to maintain his feet. ¡°To atone for my sins.¡±

    It tilted its head. ¡°Atone?¡±

    ¡°To gain forgiveness for my failures. To do right by those I lost.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Revenge.¡±

    High above, I shook my head. Revenge and atonement were two very separate things. A truth even Hercules could see. But the beasts had not yet been able to grasp that, their wild natures separating them from the softer emotions.

    The pendulum of fate shifted further.

    Hercules¡¯ movements smoothed as he began to grasp his new environment.

    The serpent let loose that hissing laugh once more. Then, with a casual flick of its head it sent a drop of that clear venom sailing at a helpless Hercules.

    Hercules saw his death reflected in that clear drop, saturated as it was in concepts of death and entropy. Drawing upon the entirety of his newfound adaptation to his new environment, he jerked himself to the side, using his hands against the air to create movements.

    The serpent watched in amusement, then flicked a few more drops at him, forcing him into a deadly dance. Overhead the newly gathered clouds began to let loose showers of razor-sharp snow-flakes equally saturated in deadly potence.

    Hercules silently thanked his cloak for shielding him as snow-flakes dissolved against it, their conceptual might dissipating against the remeneats of the Golden Lion¡¯s invincibility. He hated this type of fight, where the enemy focused on chaining his strength instead of matching it.

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    But that would soon change.

    Just as the serpent stalked adding ice spears to the mixture, Hercules finished what he had been working on and slipped a pair of lion-fur slippers onto his feet. Immediately, friction returned, the invincibility in the lion''s pelt working to dissipate all malicious effects. Grace returned, Hercules slipped through the obstacles and unleashed his might upon the serpent¡¯s. It reared back, barely dodging his blow. It could sense that even a single blow from him could spell severe injury. Immediately, the clouds above tripled their output, filling the tundra with obscuring white. Soon, Hercules could see nothing except white and hear nothing but the howling of the winds and faint serpentine hissing.

    Then, it started.

    Attacks from every possible angle, cold spears of ice, whittling snowflakes of death and globs of clear venom alike. Sometimes massive chunks of ice joined the fray, forcing Hercules to take a precious moment to shatter them. It was the serpent''s domain, and in it the serpent held absolute control.

    But Hercules persisted, alight with the soul of strength. Flashes of movements came back to him, learned in a battle he could barely remember. A fighting style separated from the cares of the mortal world, saturated in the perfection of the divine.

    Strength was about more than mere physical might. It was about application. It was about results. It was about perservering in the face of the unbeatable.

    And in that domain of ice, blinded and pushed to his very limit, Hercules thrived. He shattered every spear and chunk of ice, slipped around every glob of venom and fought through the piercing snowflakes. WIth every moment he burned brighter, more strength becoming him and more skill guiding that strength.

    The serpent saw it, and the seed of fear planted in his mind upon hearing of the lion¡¯s death begain to sprout. From a seed it became a sprout, then a sapling, then a tree, and as Hercules began to force his way through the storm, dispelling parts of it with rippling shockwaves, a mighty oak.

    A decision was made. In an instant, every part of the serpent''s miles long body, both the part above and below flexed, and with a mighty groan, the sheet of ice floating above the cold sea began to fracture.

    Spouts of water and mist shot in the air, adding more confusing to the deadly game Hercules was playing. The ice beneath his feet began to disintegrate, melting under the serpent fearful influence. Soon, Hercules found himself floating on a small iceberg, maintained only by the fading influence of his lion pelt. If he fell, he would find himself in the freezing sea, completely out of his element and at the serpent''s mercy. He could no longer see even a foot in front of his face, everything obscured by the whittling blizzard.

    The serpent''s hissing laughter rolled across the obscured sea, seeming to come from every direction at once.

    But¡­

    ¡°And so, here we are. You fought well, First, but it ends here.¡±

    Almost¡­

    Even blinded Hercules could feel the walls of violence rising on every side of him, towering waves mixing with icey spears and clear venom. It was an unavoidable attack, and at best he would end up in the ocean, at the serpent''s mercy. At worst he would die right here. He had to end it right now.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to enjoy consuming you.¡±

    So close¡­

    He felt the shockwaves of the waves rushing at him, felt the whole world around him.

    Felt the serpent.

    There!

    WIthout hesitation, he launched himself towards one of the waves, the force of his jump destroying the iceberg behind him, destroying his last semblance of safety. He struck the wave like a missile, a punch reducing a hole he barely managed to fit through to fine mist.

    In midair he drew back his fist to its fullest extent, gathering every shred of strength he had, feeling even a bit of weight prematurely lifted to aid him in this strike. This was his last chance. He only caught a brief glimpse of the serpent''s somehow surprised expression before he struck.

    The full might of Hercules¡¯ blow struck the serpent head, reducing it to atoms, but no shockwave rippled outward. Instead, it followed the path of the serpent''s spine, the vibration ripping flesh off of the bone wherever it passed.

    Hercules could feel the serpent''s consciousness, which Hercules had correctly suspected was not totally continued in the head, struggling to contain the shockwave. But as mighty as it was, it could not take a full strength blow from the lord of strength himself.

    When the last of its flesh was ripped from its bones, Hercules felt its consciousness cease to be, and its soul depart.

    He landed on a chunk of the serpent flesh floating above the sea, watching the sun disperse the clouds, now devoid of the serpent''s strength.

    Another prince had been slain, and another fragment of his guilt absolved.

    There was a growing realization brewing in Hercules, an understanding that atonement was not so clear cut as he had originally imagined. If not so, how had part of his guilt been absolved before he even finished the fight?

    But now was not the time.

    He had been victorious.

    His laughter rolled across the now clear ocean, taunting the serpent''s mighty corpse.

    Standing witness too,

    The death of another crown prince,

    The death of guilt.

 13.4 - The Phoenix

    The wind howled, throwing up flurries of snow. The mountain was a broken mess of gaping trenches and falling rocks, but Hercules pressed forth undeterred.

    Soon, the clouds swallowed his form, and multiple times he barely stopped himself from falling into a deep trench. It was far too reminiscent of his fight with the World Serpent, whose venom rested in a lion-pelt flask on his hip, only a few months ago. And now his journey was almost at an end.

    Atonement was within reach.

    As he passed through the last few feet of cloud, he was greeted not with a blast of icy wind as one might expect, but rather a face full of scorching fire. It parted upon meeting Hercules, of course, but it blinded him for a second.

    When his vision cleared, he beheld the mountain peak, a burning mess of fire and lava. And at its zenith, stood the Eternal Phoenix, silently watching him. It was a majestic bird, made entirely of swirling fire. Red, orange, yellow, pink, purple and a thousand other colors flickered in those flames created a miraculous tapestry. Above, the myriad of stars littered in the dark sky, their thousand eyes standing witness to the end of Hercules¡¯ labors.

    Hercules approached slowly. From what he had heard the Eternal Phoenix would be far harder to deal with than the other.

    Because the Phoenix was immortal. Eternal. Endless.

    Temperature started to rise, going from uncomfortable to a working so powerful even his cloak struggled to ward it off. Still the phoenix stayed still.

    Then it opened its beak.

    Its loud cry carried across the mountain peak, full of battle intent and bloodthirst.

    Hercules got the message. There would be no talking with this one.

    Abandoning all pretenses of caution, Hercules hurled himself at the phoenix, shattering the ground beneath him with the force of his leap. He drew his fist back in mid air, and in a single instant he was upon the phoenix. He thrust a fist directly into its center, wincing at the flame crawling up his arm in retaliation, but a second later a shockwave radiated out from his first, dispersing the phoenix into a million glowing streaks of flames.

    Hercules looked at his fist, dumbfounded.

    Was that it?

    Alas, nothing is ever that easy. The thousand tongues of flame reversed course and condensed back into the phoenix, looking no worse for it. Immediately, Hercules pivoted, narrowly dodging multicolor fireballs, and sliping lion-pelt gloves on his fits he struck once more.

    Once again, the phoenix burst into tongues of flame that regrouped back into its complete form, heedless of the gloves'' path-dispelling properties and Hercules'' attempts to interrupt it.

    He tried once more, this time throwing some of the serpent''s venom into the mix. Still, nothing, although he did notice it had squealed in pain when being hit and dimmed slightly, but that had taken half of his supply.

    And the heat was still rising, sucking all the energy out of Hercules.

    Still, he rushed back into the fray, leveraging everything he knew in a desperate struggle for his life. He countered all attacks, either dodging or dispersing them with lion-pelt clad blows. He moved perfectly, leveraging the entirety of his strength, striking with blows that could have leveled the mountain they fought on.

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    And still the phoenix lived.

    And still the heat rose.

    Something had to change.

    As he fought Hercules, desperately tried to think of a solution. The only thing he could think of that had managed to hurt the phoenix had been the serpent''s venom. But he would need to keep it in contact with the venom for perhaps an hour for it to finish the job. And there was no way he could hold the phoenix still for that long.

    Unless¡­

    An idea began to form in his head, as mad as it was futile.

    But it was the only option.

    The next pass, Hercules seized the bird with pelt clad hands instead of simply striking it. Then, dislocating his jaw and opening his mouth to its fullest extent, he crushed the struggling bird down to its smallest size and swallowed it. It burned like nothing he had ever experienced, and its desperate struggles almost overwhelmed him.

    But he firmed his resolve, and with a mighty flaring of his will he forced it into his stomach, where his body''s inherent resistance to foreign paths assisted him in containing the bird.

    He immediately dropped to his knees and assumed a meditative pose, taking a long hour to stabilize the phoenix¡¯s containment.

    Then he took out a lion-pelt flask and popped the top off. He grimaced at its contents. This was going to hurt. WIth a single swallow, he consumed the whole thing, tossing the empty flask aside.

    Immediately, the venom tried to consume him, but he managed to redirect its attention to a far greater source of vitality, the phoenix. It struggled with renewed vigor as the venom tore into it, reaffirming Hercules'' decision as the only way. He blocked the phoenix every attempt to escape or fight back and kept it contained.

    This battle had turned to one of attrition. In his stomach, three paths clashed. The phoenix¡¯s fiery eternity clashed with the cold death of the World Serpent and the essence of strength itself. Even the embers of the lion''s pelt joined in, helping Hercules enforce his ability to contain the mighty paths.

    Hours passed in this silent struggle, the stars witnessing every moment.

    When the first rays of dawn began to peak over the horizon, Hercules looked like an emancipated skeleton, his every bone visible and his muscles gone. He looked like a man with one foot already through the door between life and death. Luckily, the phoenix wasn''t much better and neither was the venom.

    All could feel the end rapidly approaching and they dug in deep, drawing from their last reserves of strength. For a second they were even, then the phoenix pulled ahead, by only an infinitesimal amount, but it would be enough.

    If the sun hasn''t risen.

    Its rays caressed Hercules with a fathers love. With a mother''s love. WIth pure love. With forgiving love. And the weight on his shoulder lifted a little more.

    Then it was done, the eternal phoenix having met its end. Hercules consumed the fiery energy leftover with ravenous intensity. Flesh began to crawl over his bones once more and within a few seconds he looked as good as new.

    He looked up at the sky, locked in a battle between the rising sun and the shining stars. The clouds below him had cleared, revealing the world below in all its glory. He felt another portion of his guilt lift, though not all.

    His joy at victory faded as he took in this unpleasant realization. The weight was still there, just greatly reduced. He had hoped to banish it entirely.

    He wondered if he had simply not done enough.

    But what more was there to do?

    Under the morning sun, an idea slowly blossomed in his head, one as insane as his idea to eat the phoenix. He may have killed their princes, but their king remained.

    Maybe¡­

    Above, I shook my head. I wondered when he would finally get it. There was no banishing the weight of one''s mistakes. It would accompany them till the end. They could only be lived with, lightened.

    Still, that was something that could only be learned through experience.

    And Hercules would not be dissuaded.

    The sun rose over a grateful world, and atop the highest peak a man plotted the downfall of the beasts.

 13.5 - The Dragon

    Hercules idly fiddled with the Phoenix feather in his hand, a construct of multicolor flame. Strangely enough, it didn''t burn. He had found it at the apex of the mountain, hidden in its ricky nest. He could tell it had the ability to bring a living creature back from the brink of death one time, but Hercules was sure he wouldn''t need it.

    After all, he had slain all three princes, the king couldn''t be that much worse.

    He took a deep breath, looking out over the lands below. A multitude of different biomes abounded, with deserts and forest and seas. Yet the volcano at their center towered over them all. Hercules could feel an aura within it, quiet, gently pulsing, and still somehow beyond anything he had ever felt. Only Micheal could come close to it.

    And he was going to fight it.

    From his perch atop one of the smaller mountains looking over the scenery, Hercules crouched and ran his hands over the jagged rock, feeling them crumble under his hands.

    It was time.

    An aura erupted from him with the force of a hurricane, shaking the mountain and sending chunks of rock tumbling down. Surging strength filled him to a greater extent than ever before, enveloping him in its truth.

    In this world, strength was king.

    And no one was stronger than him.

    He pushed off the mountain with a roar like the world breaking, literally blowing the top off the mountain, he soared like a missile, his pace eating the miles like they were nothing. He could feel every awareness in the area locked onto him, but he only cared for one.

    The aura from the volcano stirred before settling again.

    Hercules roared, the sound loud enough to blast away nearby clouds and brought back a fist with unmistakable killing intent.

    Then he was on the volcano, striking with all the force he could muster. If the king would not come out to face him, then he wouldn''t face the king either.

    His fist came down with inexorable power.

    Then he was flying through the air faster than he had come. He felt rock crumpling between his back as he reeled, trying to understand what had just happened. All he had seen was a flash of red. When his vision cleared, he launched himself out of the hole he had found himself in, pride more wounded than body.

    A new beast stood atop the volcano, and there was no mistaking its identity. It had four legs, with a pair of golden-red wings tucked behind its shoulder blades. The sun glinted against its red and golden scales, making it shine like a second sun. It had a long scaly snout with a set of glistening man-sized teeth that ended in impossible sharp points. A pair of pearl-white antlers curved towards its orange eyes.

    But even more noticeable was the aura it emitted. It was a composite path, nameless in its uniqueness. Tyranny, fire, dominance, power, and a million other qualities came together to form a spirituality that pressed down heavily on every being in its range.

    Even Hercules was staggered in its face, though he quickly shook off its effects.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± It questioned with obvious annoyance, shaking the space with its deep bass. It tilted its head when it spotted Hercules. ¡°One of Adam''s brats? Why have you thrown your life away?¡±

    Hercules was too busy trying to figure out how it had moved so fast to respond.

    It spoke again, Its voice sharpened, authority demanding Hercules respond. ¡°Why have you come?¡±

    An answer was dragged from Hercules before he could brace himself. ¡°To atone.¡±

    It chuckled, amused. ¡°Don¡¯t you know? There is no atonement. You will live with your sins till the day you die. We all will. Might as well own them.¡±

    No.

    Hercules knew better. He remembered that light. That searing heat.

    He would show the dragon the truth.

    He would show them all.

    But not with words. With a roar, he launched himself at the dragon. This time, when its massive arm tried to swap him out the sky, he twisted, barely dodging the lazy blow to strike one of his own. Everything he had went into it, creating a shockwave so powerful it pulverized the stone around him. Dargonth roared, more in anger than pain and flared an aura that nearly brought Hercules to his knees.

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    He barely managed to jump out of the way of another world-ending swipe.

    He charged back in, flaring his own aura to barely hold back the dragons. He struck out with a flurry of blows, dodging the dragons like a leaf in the wind or occasionally blocking with world-ending blows of his own, though such blocks always pushed him back. The lessons he had learned poured out of him, forging a story of tragedy and responsibility.

    Of quests and battle.

    Of love and death.

    Of strangling lions and laying serpents.

    Of consuming phoenixs and fighting tyrants.

    Even hints of fight he could no longer remember poured out of him, giving his blows new depth.

    But every move was countered, and every lesson rebuked.

    Finally, with a roar like an erupting volcano, Dargonth finally landed a clawed blow on Hercules¡¯ lion-pelt clad form. The pelt held for a split second before giving way to a much greater power. Blood sprayed from Hercules as he was nearly cut in half.

    As his bloody body flew backwards, life maintained only though pure will, he heard the dragon snort dismissively.

    Hercules wanted to cry out, to protest. He wasn''t done! He had points to make and blows to strike.

    But his body no longer listened, barely keeping the dragon''s path from consuming it as it was.

    And¡­ it was becoming hard to think. Slowly, he began to feel lighter, like the force holding him to the mortal plane was weakening. He felt like he could soar into the heavens if he just let go.

    His desire to fight slowly began to fade, lost in the glorious lightness. For the first time in years, he felt whole. He felt free. Perhaps the dragon had been right. Perhaps only in death could one be free of their sins.

    But even now, something bothered him.

    That light¡­ it had not been of death.

    The answer came to him with agonizing slowness, like a decrepit old man stumbling over, determined despite his senility.

    The dragon had been right, but only partially. He would indeed live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He would never truly abandon the weight of his mistakes. But that was not what atonement was about.

    That wasn''t what that light was about.

    It was about living with the mistake, and doing the best one could by it. It was about getting up again and again to apologize. About fixing what one broke. About preventing it from happening again.

    To atone was live despite one''s mistakes. To thrive despite one''s failings.

    To be whole despite one''s harms.

    Hercules reached out for the light. In the physical world, his hand twitched, barely brushing a burning feather tethered to the remains of his cloak.

    It was a mere brush, the barest corner of something vast.

    But it was enough.

    Fire rushed into him, making flesh anew wherever it passed. In a flash he landed on his feet, and pushed off once more. His fist drew back in midair, light beginning to shine from it like it locked the sun in it, mimicking the blow that had struck him down not so long ago. Atonement and redemption became power, and power became strength. Dargonth turned just in time to catch the fist on his shocked face.

    All became light.

    As Hercules fell, devoid of even the faintest drop of strength, he felt the light envelop him. It caressed him, and reassured him.

    He was whole despite his harms.

    When the light cleared, the dragon was swaying, covered in horrific burns and shattered scales. For a second, it looked like it would fall, but then an aura far greater than anything it had shown before erupted from it as it lifted its head to the heavens and roared loud enough to deafen Hercules.

    In a silent world, he watched as the dragon''s scales began to knit together at an almost noticeable rate, though he was glad to see them struggling with the remains of his attack.

    Still, Dargonth had been concealing his strength.

    The fight wasn''t over.

    With an effort beyond anything he had known he was capable of, Hercules pushed himself to his feet, swaying as he did so. He had reached his true limit, and could no longer move so much as a finger.

    Still, he would die on his feet.

    The dragon looked at him in nameless fury and opened his mouth, light gathering in his jaws. Hercules grinned, preparing to face his end.

    Just as the standoff reached its apex, a grinning Hercule against a furious Dargonth, a voice split the air.

    ¡°No¡±

    It was quiet, yet everyone heard it. Authority saturated it, making volume pointless in its delivery.

    A king would be heard, no matter how loud he was.

    Hercules smiled. ¡°Micheal¡± he whispered.

    A second later, a monstrous presence descended, every bit Dargonth¡¯s equal. It draped over the volcano like the disapproving gaze of a divine king.

    Dargonth roared, lunging for Hercules.

    Another command split the air.

    ¡°Come¡±

    And all went black.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    From above, I watched as the fate of an era was sealed. Dargonth, by his nature, was a prideful being, and he would not let such a humiliation stand, he would not let being capable of matching him roam free.

    He would summon his forces from the corners of the world, forces far greater than even Micheal could conceive, and he would descend upon an infant humanity with the endless might of the untamed wilds.

    I had intervened enough. If humanity could not overcome this, they would never ascend on their own, and my labors would have been in vain.

    My work was done, the rest was up to them.

    I could see it, clear as day.

    This was a crucible that would forge man or destroy him.

    The wilds would descend on man.

    And in the end.

    Only one would remain.

 14 - A Kings Worries

    The first era was always obscured, hidden deep within the myths of man. And yet¡­ its end could not completely obscure itself. The echoes of clashing giants still ring throughout the world, emanating such power that most cannot even look upon it anymore, cannot even acknowledge its existence lest it destroy them. It was the first true war, and blood covered the earth in a red sea, with demigods and beasts tearing into each other with equal fury. To be human is to subject primal nature to higher ideals, to subject beasts to civilization. And here is where humanity truly grew into themselves.

    Micheal left the dragon roaring its fury to the skies, He could feel the command in the sound, rippling out with fiery authority. He, of course, brushed it aside with little effort, but that didn''t mean all would. His sibling would protect the children, but the beasts of the world wouldn''t be able to.

    They would flock to Dargonth in the thousands, and when they were all gathered, it would start.

    Micheal looked at the unconscious Hercules in his arms with annoyance. He should have known it would be him who set off the end, but it didn''t really matter. It had only been a matter of time, really. Dargonth, by his very nature, could not abide the existence of others on an equal standing with him. He would have come after them eventually.

    Still, Michael had hoped for more time, and he once more felt the urge to drop his comatose brother from the sky. He resisted the temptation with difficulty and commanded their return to the Stronghold. The world obeyed without hesitation, the wind rushing forward to form a throne and space warping to shorten the distance. As their surroundings whizzed by in a river of colorful streaks, Micheal commanded the wind to deliver his message.

    War was upon them. It was time to withdraw to the center and prepare.

    Else they wouldn''t survive the month.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Over the next few weeks, hundreds returned to the first outpost of humanity, simply named the Stronghold. Micheal¡¯s brothers and sisters, too, heeded the call with grim awareness, having known this day would come eventually.

    From up above, I saw the beasts gathering, great rivers of flesh merging into a sea of monsters. Their numbers had swelled, ballooning to the thousands, perhaps tens of thousands while humanity remained in the hundreds. They boiled over in their temporary dens and lair surrounding Dargonth¡¯s volcano, shaking the ground in their collective impatience. In contrast, humanity gathered into the Stronghold, a city of merely a hundred or so finely crafted houses. Finely worked carvings and statues decorated the streets, complemented by the advanced mechanisms of bronze and steel that alleviated the pain of everyday chores.

    It looked ridiculous, like a man standing in the path of a roaring avalanche, expecting it to come to a stop upon touching his miniscule stature.

    And yet¡­ among them, there were those who would dare try that very feet. For if each beast shone like a dim candle, each human was a raging wildfire, burning with a promise of life, and each of Adam¡¯s children was a star, distant and mighty. Even the Stronghold glowed with power, intricate carvings brimming with meaning and authority and statues seeming to come to life under the pressure.

    The battle was still very much to be decided.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    It was the third week after Micheal¡¯s rescue of Hercules when the last of his brothers, Sidon, entered the stronghold, bearing with him samples of strange metals and embers for Hephas.

    That night as Micheal strode of the stairs to the Council hall, he hesitated. In the dark, his simple stone crown seemed to shine, glittering with the light of the stars. For a split second, even his azure mantle flickered into existence before once again being cast into nothingness.

    Micheal lifted his head to the stars, and sighed. He knew they were far, but on a night like this, it felt like he could reach out and scoop them up. His mantle once more flared before dispersing. He frowned. He needed its power now, and yet something still prevented him from fully manifesting it. He reached up to run a finger across his crowns'' rocky surface. The crown was his strength, his ability to move forward even under the heaviest of weights.

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    But the mantle¡­ it was something different. Something he hadn''t yet grasped in full. He felt it, flickering at the edges of his mind, but as he reached for it, it retreated, resting just out of his reach, as maddeningly close as the stars.

    With a sigh, he put those thoughts aside and refocused.

    The council was about to start.

    As he strode into the open air temple, he felt their attention on him. Beings who had advanced to the mortal limits. Whose mere thoughts could warp the world. Who blazed with light divine. Their auras washed over him as he walked over the decorated marble floor, trampling him under a myriad of truths, even as he trampled the painted vision of men and beasts underfoot.

    Chains of law bound him.

    Fire seared him.

    Time wore away at him.

    Worlds crushed him.

    Any other would have perished in an instant, the conceptual weight tearing their soul from body. But Micheal kept walking, heedless of the throned figures lining the path.

    Then, only one throne stood in front of him, a simple chair of black rock, matching his crown. He turned and sat, and immediately his own aura manifested itself, forcing the others aside, subjecting them to his authority.

    For a long moment, he let his gaze wander around the room, taking it all in. Twenty-six other thrones lined the room, thirteen on each side. All were occupied, except for one, a simple wooden chair decorated with bows and arrows. Each crackled with power, forged by Hephas to perfectly reflect their respective siblings. A few, though, immediately caught the eye, like Thar¡¯s crackling lightning and Nut¡¯s starry sky, while others faded into the background like Thoth¡¯s papyrus throne and Erebo¡¯s softly undulating darkness.

    Still all held dense truths, and the temple trembled as it struggled to contain them.

    Then, as if by tacit agreement, throned figures, his siblings, nodded and withdrew their auras, and Micheal followed suit.

    He wasted no more time. ¡°You all know why we are here.¡±

    He swept his gaze over the room, taking in the first full gathering of Adam¡¯s children since his death. His gaze lingered on the empty throne. Almost full.

    ¡°War is coming for us, and it will not stop till we submit.¡±

    The flaring of auras gave ample evidence to what they thought of that.

    ¡°We have long prepared for this, and our descendants are ready for battle. But one last problem remains.¡±

    ¡°Dargonth¡± Hercules rumbled from the back, his bloody throne composed of intricate carvings of defeated foes and might feats. ¡°Dargonth must be dealt with.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Micheal confirmed. ¡°Dargonth remains an issue.¡±

    Thar snorted, tendrils of lightning crawling down his arm. ¡°I don¡¯t see the issue. A beast is a beast. He cannot stand before our might.¡± His throne, a collection of jagged white lightning bolts frozen in time, flashed ominously.

    ¡°We are not fighting him alone¡± reminded Heimdall, his cloudy white eyes staring into something nobody else could see. ¡°There are dozens of awakened beasts and even some beast princes on the other side, and in sufficient numbers they can delay us. Enough for Dargonth to isolate us and take us down one by one.¡±

    Thar scoffed, his long red hair falling over his shoulder as he leaned forward.

    Before he could speak, Artemis interrupted him. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare trivialize the threat he poses. Even decades ago he was a match for any of us now. Have you forgotten what happened to Orion?¡±

    Thar frowned, but after flickering his gaze to the empty throne, he nodded and sat back in his throne.

    For a time, there was silence in the throne room as the children of Adam struggled with the problem in front of them.

    Surprisingly, it was Chrono that broke the silence. ¡°The youngsters, your son Gilded especially, have had great success with uniting their paths and minds to fight as one.¡±

    ¡°No¡± was the unanimous answer.

    Chrono sat back, having already known the answer. For the younger ones, such a thing could work, but the children of Adam had traveled too far down their paths, becoming too distinct and separate. They would never surrender themselves to a greater unity.

    For them it was the path or death.

    ¡°What of the materials I brought? Can we forge weapons out of them?¡±

    Hephas grunted. ¡°Already on it. They will be done in a week''s time.¡±

    The room once more lapsed back into thoughtful silence.

    It was Saraswa that spoke next, her thorne of painted clouds and imaginary places seeming to shimmer with true life. ¡°Micheal, can you match him in single combat?¡±

    ¡°Can I win? No. But I can delay him.¡±

    ¡°Then is that not the answer? Micheal can delay Dargonth while the rest of us finish our fights. Then we can join him, and end this for good.¡±

    Thoth grimaced. ¡°Is that truly the only way?¡±

    ¡°I see no other.¡± Saraswa replied.

    ¡°Are there any other ideas?¡± Micheal asked.

    The hall was silent.

    ¡°Then I suppose we will have to make do.¡±

    The silence was grim, but resolute.

    ¡°Next, we need t-¡±

    Heimdall¡¯s head snapped to the west.

    ¡°Beasts. Approaching fast.¡±

 14.2 - Struggle

    The air smelt of iron, and the wind swirled in invisible eddies. Blood covered the ground like a red sea, and the soil thirsty drank it all. A layer of beast corpses floated atop the shallow sea, each perfectly split into two pieces. The twenty-six remaining children of Adam observed the scene with concern.

    Micheal turned to Serceno with a frown. ¡°There were cleaner ways to deal with this.¡±

    Serceno ignored him, his aura of sharpness severing the air as he slowly sheathed the blade at his side.

    Micheal sighed. ¡°Promoth, please clean up this mess.¡±

    Promoth nodded, and with a gesture, hungry violet flames rushed across the plain, devouring the corpses, now devoid of protective spirituality.

    Micheal turned to Thoth with a frown. ¡°What do you make of this?¡±

    Thoth turned, his bald head glimmering in the sun. ¡°He¡¯s trying to wear us down. Soften us up for the final blow.¡± He joined Micheal in frowning. ¡°However, the fact he can afford to throw away this many troops, even an awakened beast.¡± He indicated the corpse of the strange fire breathing crow. ¡°is concerning. They must have far more than we originally estimated.¡±

    Micheal turned to Heimdall. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    ¡°My view is mostly obscured, but Thoth is right. There are far more than there should be.¡±

    Their faces were grim as they processed that information.

    It was true. The forces arrayed against them were staggering. It was unbelievable how fast the beasts had grown. Sometimes, I even wondered if I had chosen the right side. The beast princes especially wielded immensely powerful concepts, although they came through instinct and blood rather than true creation, true knowledge like humanity. Sometimes, I wondered if the beasts would have a better chance of ascending.

    But¡­ power inherited is not the way to divinity. One must forge their own.

    I looked at them, truly looked at them. They were cruel and merciless, even in their awakened forms. It was no fault of their own, merely their nature, and yet¡­ Could a being capable of such blatant cruelty truly be capable of gazing upon a masterwork and appreciating it to its fullest extent.

    No.

    I had made my choice.

    I just hoped my chosen would triumph.

    Micheal sent Artemis, Venti, Erebo and Heimdall out to assess the truth of the threat they faced, blending the silent hunt, the four winds, the endless darkness and unblockable eyes in gambit to find out the truth of their foes.

    The rest of them went to the younger generation.

    War was on the horizon, and they had to make sure their descendants were prepared.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------

    Micheal watched unseen with mixed emotions as his descendants slaughtered the small army of encroaching beasts. The number of wandering packs had increased in the past week and while they had found them good practice for the younger generation, it was growing to the point where they were becoming overwhelming.

    The scouting party he had sent out had yet to return, but he was growing increasingly concerned as more and more roving parties appeared in his land. At first, he had declared the land protected, leveraging authority to slay every beast in his territory over the acceptable threshold , but such a wide working meant any party led by an awakened beast of sufficient power could force their way through.

    And force their way through they had, with the number of parties led by awakened beasts growing to concerning numbers.

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    Still, Micheal didn¡¯t interfere as his descendants fought below. This was the baptism that would prepare them for the true battle.

    They were fighting one of the largest armies, one with hundreds of beasts and nearly half a dozen awakened beasts. His son, Gilded, led the small band of about ten humans standing in defiance. He watched as invisible tendrils of meaning carried power and energy between them, allowing them to act as one unit. A strange miasma covered half the battlefield as Hypno, one of Erebo and Astra¡¯s children, lured the beasts into drowsy vulnerability. Others flashed through the battlefield, striking down beasts with manifestations of dense meaning, some simple and elemental like spears of rock and bolts of lighting, and others more abstract like the concept of cutting the life-string and armor of manifested courage.

    And through the bonds of unity running through them, they could each draw upon each other''s paths.

    It was a foreign way of fighting Micheal, or surrendering power to a greater collective. Of relying on the power of others to carve your place in the world. But he approved of it.

    Individual humans would not remain so bright forever. He could already see their souls dimming with each generation, and if it continued like that, there would be nobody capable of standing on their own. Humanity would need a new way to stand in this vast world, and such a unity was the perfect thing.

    He chuckled quietly to himself. First they had to survive.

    He watched for a few more minutes, savoring how his children had grown, before awareness brushed the corner of his consciousness.

    The scouts were back, and they were wounded.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    A frantic hour later found them back in the council hall. Artemis, Erebo, Venti, and Heimdall had all been badly wounded, but after the ministrations of Hestia, Sol and a few of the younger generation on paths of life, they were back to normal.

    Mostly.

    ¡°It''s bad.¡± Heimdall said, ¡°Much worse than we thought. They have tens of thousands of normal beasts and hundreds of awakened beasts, and more are still streaming in. Even worse, I saw a dozen beasts on par with us.¡±

    ¡°Impossible!¡± Hercules yelled, ¡°I killed all the crown princes! And we couldn''t not have missed that many powerful beasts.¡±

    Heimdall sighed. ¡°Dargonth sealed them, and obscured them from my vision with powerful workings of will and truth.¡±

    Artemis spoke up. ¡°It''s true. It''s really bad. If Hercules had not prematurely taken out the three strongest princes, the situation might be hopeless. But even now it''s bad. This is no longer just war. This is the end.¡±

    The hall was filled with uncertain murmuring, but nobody shirked back from the truth.

    They were the children of Adam, progenitors of the human race, and they would not back down from a hopeless battle, much less one still winnable. Still, it lay heavy across their broad shoulders.

    Micheal rose from his throne and stepped forward. ¡°This changes nothing. Some of us will not live past the month, but so what? We will die pursuing our paths, pursuing our truths. Is there really anything else we can ask for? No, we will not cower back. We will not hide on our thrones.¡±

    Thoth stepped off his throne as well, his aura erupting out of him, its normally scholarly nature taking on aspects of war, making him feel like a seasoned general. ¡°No we will not. In fact, we will take the war to them. Utterly destroy them before they can gain further reinforcements.¡±

    Auras began to reveal themselves, the prospect of putting it all on the line in one strike awakening them. Demigods rose from their thrones and walked forward to join Micheal and Thoth in the center of the marble temple, right over a mosaic of Adam and Eve, lovingly made by Hephas and Saraswa. With each step their auras surged, revealing different facets of their paths, different facets of their beings.

    There in that temple, under the impending possibility of their demise, the children of Adam shed their mortal skin, revealing to the world what they truly were. Embodiments of supreme concepts, impressed upon the world by wills great enough to resist the wheel of time itself. Time, Space, Fire, Knowledge, Sharpness, Creation, Destruction, Law, Strength, and a million other conceptions joined a soup of meaning that warped reality around it, unmaking and remaking nature''s laws as it willed.

    Micheal joined them in shedding their mortal forms as his crown began to glow golden, the influence of its physical makeup fading. Pure authority surged out of him, a presence that demanded everything else kneel before it. For a second, even his mantle flickered into existence, redoubling his presence with its authority.

    They stayed there for a long minutes, surrounded by a raging storm of meaning, each giving their ascent to the plan.

    Then they stepped back, cloaking themselves in mortal skin once more, sparing the world the burden of their presences.

    For a moment there was silence. Then Hephas spoke.

    ¡°Come by my workshop, and I''ll finish your weapons.¡±

    With that, the children of Adam dispersed to reflect over what could very well be their last night.

    Either way, they would fight to the end.

 14.3 - A Divine Forging

    Micheal was the last to enter Hephas¡¯ forge as the stars shone overhead. His brother looked exhausted as he ushered Micheal in, his massive muscles quivering and his eyes dropping. Even his aura was fluctuating. Micheal looked deeper, into his cracking essence and sighed.

    He quickly grabbed Hepahs¡¯ arm and led him into the forge. It was a massive mess, with tools and materials splayed all over the place, illuminated only by the still-burning forge, but he led Hephas to take a seat in the corner, something caught his eye. It was a piece of cloth, laying across the table, a mosaic of azure and gold. It was a mantle fit for a king.

    And it took his breath away.

    He walked over as if in a trance and picked it up, running his fingers over the intricate woven fabric, feeling the threads of gold and lapis spun through it. His own mantle flared in response, drifting towards it as if to merge with it.

    Hephas¡¯ cough in the background interrupted him, and suppressing his desire, he turned back to his brother. ¡°Are you sure you''re good to do this?¡±

    He coughed again and closed his eyes. ¡°My work is done. I created the vessel. It''s up to you to infuse its power.¡±

    ¡°And how do I do that?¡±

    Hepahs¡¯ eyes stayed closed. ¡°Envision what you want it to be. What parts of yourself, of your path, you want it to contain. Let them flow out. Let them envelop it. Let them become it. It will become a part of your body, a part of your soul. Perfectly compatible, and undeniably powerful¡± He coughed again.

    ¡°Are you ok?¡±

    Hephas opened his eyes, spearing Micheal with brilliant orange eyes. ¡°No. And you know that.¡±

    Indeed, to his sight, Hephas¡¯ soul flickered feebly, his essence fluctuating uncertainty.

    He sighed. ¡°I''m not very good at fighting, Micheal. These weapons are my contribution. These weapons are my power. As for my well being,¡± he smiled sadly, ¡°Perhaps I will pull through.¡±

    Micheal knew the chances were small, but such was the situation they had found themselves in.

    Sighing, he picked up the mantle once more, Closing his eyes, he focused. Immediately, his path came into focus, or at least his conception of it. A silhouette towered over all, crowned with a ring of black rock, and anointed with a mantle of azure-gold. The world bent before him, all things yielding before their king.

    With an effort he brought the mantle to hand, feeling the power within it. Once, long ago in a moment of enlightenment, he had created this mantle himself, weaving it from his skin of grief and apathy. He still didn''t understand it in full, but as he gazed upon it, truth wormed its way into his mind.

    A king was more than a crowned being. All beings were crowned, in one way or another. All beings could force the world to bend to their will. What differentiated a king was that they needed no force to make the world do their bidding. The world obeyed by virtue of their very essence. They were anointed in the eyes of their subjects, and that anointment was their authority.

    The more he gazed upon his mantle, the more he saw. When he had woven it from his despair, even below the level of his conscious mind, he had hungered for more. His mantle was meant to bear the anointment of everything, from the furthest stars to the smallest pebbles.

    That made it heavy, heavier than anything he had ever seen before. He lacked the strength and understanding to manifest it, and even if he could, he was unsure if he could even bear such power. It was a creation of such ambition, Micheal wasn''t sure it was even possible.

    But he still had to try.

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    Hopefully, Hephas¡¯ creation could help him take the first step.

    Slowly, he guided his path to the mantle Hephas had painstakingly created for him. Immediately, the woven mantle began to unravel under the power of Micheals.

    Hephas shot to his feet, eyes wide and bloodshot, and Micheal desperately tried to slow the transfer process to give the mantle time to acclimate to his power.

    Hepahs rushed over and began frantically examining the mantle. He reeled back when he touched upon Micheals mantle, and watched in blank shock as his pinnacle creation unraveled under its weight and turned to dust.

    For a moment there was silence.

    Then Hepahs turned to Micheal. ¡°What was that?!¡±

    Micheal sighed, disappointed but unsurpised at the failure. ¡°The end of my path. Or perhaps the beginning.¡±

    ¡°That was¡­ That was¡­ I don''t even know how to describe it. Like everything was contained in there. Everything.¡±

    ¡°It''s the epitome of my understanding. The zenith of my power. The apex of my path. If i could just manifest it¡­ then this war would be over. Humanities survival would be ensured. But¡± he clenched his fists. ¡°I can¡¯t. It''s too heavy. I lack the understanding and power to do so.¡±

    ¡°And now you lack a weapon.¡±

    Micheal nodded.

    Hephas closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, they burned with new light.

    ¡°I can¡¯t make a mantle for you, but I can make something else. You need time. I can give it to you.¡±

    Micheal¡¯s head snapped back to his brother. ¡°Hepahs¡± he said urgently, putting a hand on his shoulder ¡°that will kill you.¡±

    He chuckled, ¡°I know. I know. But I cannot let you go unarmed. And I don¡¯t have much longer either way. I am the Lord of Creation, and in creation the way I choose to go out.¡±

    Micheal hesitated for a moment before withdrawing his hand. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°How do you defeat an opponent far greater than you?¡± Hepahs asked in return.

    When Micheal was silent, Hephas answered his own question. ¡°You go further than them. Sacrifice more.¡±

    Micheal just nodded silently.

    Hephas smiled. ¡°I have already given my legacy to my children.¡± His smile widened. ¡°I always knew this is where it would end. A creation greater than anything that ever came before it. This will be my pinnacle.¡±

    His soul began to burn, and with a gesture his forge rearranged itself. He grabbed a chunk of black metal from a stand in the corner.

    ¡°I found this in a crater decades back¡± ¨Che said conversationally as he began to heat it with iridescent flames, flames that consumed his essence to burn¨C ¡°It comes from the stars. It is more durable than anything I''ve ever seen, and it''s only now, burning away in a blaze of glory that I can truly use it. It will make a fine net.¡±

    As he worked, hammering concepts of unbreakability and binding into it, more of their siblings began to show up, silently witnessing Hephas¡¯ last moments.

    They watched as he created the chain links, one by one, working his heart and soul into them, and as he bound them together into several long chains of iridescent light. Hours passed and Hephas began to bind the chains into a complicated net.

    When he struck the final hammer blow, a shockwave rippled out and blew the forge apart. As his siblings contained the damage, the first of dawn¡¯s rays began to touch upon the net, piercing through the starry twilight to be absorbed by its voracious appetite..

    Hepahs turned to his siblings one last time, the joy of creation apparent upon his face. His once mighty muscles were shriveled, and his aura weak, but he stood tall and proud.

    ¡°The net will shrink when grasped.¡± he told Micheal ¡°To use it, simply throw it at Dargonth. It should buy you some time. Use it well.¡±

    Then he turned to the rest of his siblings.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mourn me. I lived. Is that not enough?¡±

    Artemis was the first to step forward. ¡°Die well, brother.¡±

    The rest quickly chimed in.

    Hephas chuckled, but then his smile faded as he turned to Saraswa.

    ¡°I-¡±

    ¡°Don''t¡± she put a finger on his lips, ¡°Die well, my love.¡±

    He nodded, and turned back to the net. He grasped it with a shriveled hand, and immediately a brilliant flare of iridescent fire consumed them, raging for a full minute.

    And just like that, when the light cleared, another child of Adam was gone..

    Micheal waked forward, and picked up the net, feeling its power. Like promised, it shrank down and wrapped itself around his wrist. He looked at it with a complicated expression.

    Then he turned to the rest of his siblings, seeing his expression mirrored on their own.

    The first rays of rosy dawn caressed them, alleviating some of their pain.

    But not all.

    ¡°We leave in an hour. Prepare everyone.¡±

 14.4 - Wars Horns

    Dawn was in full bloom now, its golden rays seeming to take Micheal back into Adam¡¯s hand. He wondered how his father would have acted in his palace. For all his love and power, Adam had been no warrior. Would he have fought? Would he have bowed?

    Basking in the light of his path, the answer seemed obvious.

    Adam would have loved.

    He would have continued down that path that had made him, and from the bellows of war, he would have plucked the first flower of spring. With a gentle smile, he would have offered it Dargonth, defenseless and open.

    And Dargonth would have kneeled before him.

    Such was the power his father had wielded.

    The power he could wield if only¡­

    He clenched his fists.

    Before him, Humanity stood strong. Nearly a thousand all put together, glistening with intent and truths. They stood side by side, each individual in their paths and armaments, yet ready to die for their family beside them. Their auras rampaged through the plains, shaking the world. The sun''s golden rays sank into them, empowering them beyond their limits. Micheal observed them one by one, seeing the threads of unity that bound them together, uniting their individual power into something that transcended the bound of the individual.

    They truly had become Humanity.

    His siblings stood by his side, each shining with their own power. They looked upon their descendants with the same pride he did. Their children had grown up splendidly, and should they survive this day, he knew humanity would grow beyond what he had ever imagined.

    Together.

    A pang of sadness rang through him at the thought, a reminder of what was to come. No matter the outcome of this battle, Micheal no longer had a place with them. None of his siblings did. A collective had no use for beings as individualistic as them, beings whose very existence threatened theirs.

    Power had its price.

    But for one battle. For one day. They would fight side by side.

    Micheal thrust his hand into the air, feeling the inner light seep through his crown. Beside him, his siblings did the same, thrusting their fists into the sky and letting loose their power. Their mortal facades fell apart as their true natures were revealed, warping the surroundings with their power.

    For the first time, the children of Adam showed their descendants their true nature. There were no words, no need for words. Meaning manifested itself directly, taking the form of raw emotion.

    Of passionate love and fierce pride.

    Of endless joy and sorrowful regret.

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    Of relentless battlelust and relieved release.

    For a moment, the world froze, the descendent reeling at the force of such power. Then Gilded, standing in the center, threw his fist in the air and let out a cry. His cry echoed throughout Humanity, gathering power and support till their entirety threw their heads to the sky above, let loose the restraints on their auras, and howled their support to the heavens.

    The air shook and space rippled, their declaration of war spreading throughout the cosmos, and an army of demigods charged forth, bending reality before them.

    They would not strike from the shadows, but strike in the light of the golden sun, where their ancestors'' light would empower them.

    Where they could die under his loving gaze.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    The beast were waiting when they emerged on one of the numerous cliffs overlooking the beast¡¯s valley, the monstrous volcano looming in the middle. The more skybound of the descendants, led by Venti, Nut and Sol, took to the sky, ripping into the airborne beast with wild abandon. Sol¡¯s seemed to absorb all the light of the sun, before spitting it back out at even greater intensities, searing the beasts and empowering Humanity.

    On the ground, Thatano, cowled in a clock of black, led the charge, his deathly aura stilling every beast that came his way, spreading like a wildfire. Shiva, black hair swaying behind her, danced beside him, the tips of her gracefully flowing limbs trailing nothingness, as even space was destroyed before her

    In a second, Humanity unleashed its full might. The results were apocalyptic as reality twisted and broke, only to be utilized in another mad working of will.

    A second later, it was over, and all that remained of the beast army, awakened beasts and normal both, were chunks of flesh, frozen, burned, decayed and in a thousand other states, drifting and flickering through the air as reality struggled to reassert its laws.

    They waited for a split second, letting the truth of the situation sink in.

    It had begun.

    The valley was already stirring, looking for all the world like a kicked anthill, as princes and lowly beasts alike struggled to respond to humanity''s sudden annihilation of the army that had been sent to delay them.

    Micheal felt a pang of pity as he looked at them milling beasts below. As he took in their dull rage and frantic stumbling. As the barely visible light feebly flickering within their eyes.

    How could they stand living so¡­ blind? So dull?

    Well, he would free them from their earthly prisons today.

    Dargonth burst out of his volcano, and even miles away, they could hear his furious roar, and feel his raging aura.

    His own aura rose to match it as he took one final moment to look around, seeing his people, and the beasts.

    Only one would survive this day.

    Micheal nodded to Heimdall, who procured a long curved horn of carved gold. In its exquisite carvings, Hephas¡¯ work was clearly visible, and its aura left no doubt to its power.

    Prenutius, he had named it, Herald of the End.

    Heimdall lifted the horn to his lips, tangled dark hair falling to the side as he breathed in deeply. And finally, when the horn reached his lips, he blew.

    For a second, the world froze, with even the flapping of Dargonth¡¯s wings stopping. Then, in the void of motion, a sound was born. It seemed to drift lazily, a visible shockwave of sound, yet before anyone could comprehend what had happened, it was gone.

    An instant later, they heard it.

    To humanity, it trumpeted in their ear like the drums of war, awakening their slumbering potential. To the beasts it was death, and its touch slew them in the thousands, and struck the rest with crippling terror. Even Dargonth hesitated for a second before continuing on his path.

    But then, it was too late.

    With a roar, Humanity surged forward, directly towards the stunned beasts.

    And with a muffled boom, they collided rippling through the beast''s ranks.

    The End had come.

 14.5 - War

    Space and time broke and I was forced to extend my presence to reform it. Chrono shot me an irritated look as he was forced to adjust in his clash with a massive fish seemingly made of lightning, startling me.

    Sometimes I wondered how much Adam¡¯s children truly knew about their world, before an apocalyptic collison drew my attention.

    Far above the battlefield, Micheal and Dargonth met, The King and The Tyrant. A seemingly endless stream of black fire poured out of the dragon''s maw, infused with his arrogant path.  Micheal met it with poise and grace, and for a second both armies seemed to pause as they tried their best to keep from being roasted by fire hot enough to scorch the sun itself.

    Micheal reached out a hand, crown flaring with golden radiance, like a third sun beside Sol¡¯s and Adam¡¯s.

    ¡°Mine¡± he commanded, ripping the fire from Dargonth control and bringing it under his power. He then directed it to Promoth who seized it and turned it against the enemy, his divine ruby flaring as it focused his power.

    Dargonth tried again, this time striking out with a massive claw, which Micheal smoothly dodged, commanding space to unroll a path before him and stepping through it. Again and again, Dargonth struck out in fury, and again and again, Micheal neutralized him with echoing commands.

    Nearly an hour passed of this back and forth, with Micheal passively defending and Dargonth trying to destroy him.

    Finally, Dargonth roared in fury. ¡°Coward¡± he snarled, the words rolling across the battlefield, ¡°Face me!¡± His aura surged, power, fire, tyranny and other concepts merging into his unique blend, and Micheal met it with his regal authority. They froze in the air as the battle became more spiritual in nature. Dargonth was overwhelming, but Micheal faced him steadfastly, like a King sitting on his throne in a besieged fortress.

    Finally, the dragon snorted, withdrew the spiritual attack and turned his attention down to the battlefield. ¡°Trying to delay me, huh. You think that with Adam''s other brats, you would stand a chance.¡±-- he snorted, blowing black fire¨C ¡°think again.¡±

    His aura redoubled, the sheer shock of it almost throwing Micheal from the side. His mouth turned down in a grimace. The dragon had just been playing with him, and even then he had needed the entirety of his power to hold him back. As it was now¡­ Micheal would need to reach beyond his limits, and even then he didn¡¯t know if he could even delay the dragon.

    Dargonth chuckled at his grimace. ¡°What would you do if I took to the battlefield right now? If I spread death among you lines?¡±

    Micheal tensed, prepared to burn his path to stop the dragon. Thankfully, Dargonth, having established his dominance, was content with playing with its prey. Its mighty wings stopped flapping, but it stayed in the air by virtue of its will, sitting down on thin air as if it was solid rock. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little King, I wouldn''t do that. That''s what subordinates are for. And they dont look like they need any help.¡±

    ¡°You would leave your subordinate to die?¡±

    ¡°Why not? Don¡¯t be deceived by their power. They are not like you and me. Their spirituality is weak, and their minds feeble. Their power and their shackle is from mere blood. They are puppets, powerful puppets to be sure, but empty puppets. I will not waste my effort on them. Besides, they dont look like they need any help.¡±

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    Indeed, the humans were struggling after the initial shock of their strike had worn off. Individually, they were unmatched, but they were not even a thousand facing hordes tens if not hundreds of times that. Even his siblings were struggling, locked in deadly conflict deep in enemy lines with beast princes, that while not individually their match, had dozens of powerful awakened beasts backing them up. Some, like Hercules were thriving, aura continually rising as he was met with more and more resistance, his lion-skin cloak repelling all the dared face him, turning him into a hurricane of violence. Others were struggling more, with Ceres, Frey and Dio banding together, paths working in tandem to sprout monstrous forests, brimming with the endless vitality of summer and the madness of man unleashed. Their forest shredded any normal and awakened beasts, but enshrined in its center, they struggled to put down the nearly half-dozen princes of decay and fire forcing their way through. Even Loki was doing his part, trapping nearly half a dozen princes in illusions so potent they seemed like other worlds. On the front lines, their descendants struggled, led by Gilded and Hestia. Even with his siblings thinning their ranks, the tide of beasts seemed endless. Still, Gilded merged their power into something new, constantly redistributing individual paths to where they were needed to most, putting down normal  and awakened beasts alike, and even downing a prince personally when it slipped past Thoth¡¯s intricate traps. Hestia¡¯s healing light spread across the battlefield, invigorating and empowering their descendants, and reminding them what they were fighting for.

    Still, it was clear that humanity was being pushed back, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed, despite their ferocity and power.

    Micheal¡¯s heart bled as he watched his children fall, but he could do nothing.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked. ¡°Why couldn''t we just live in peace?¡±

    The lounging dragon yawned, ¡°You should know better than anyone. It is my path. To be the strongest, the greatest. It is what defines me, and it is what I shall pursue. I am justified in my pursuit by the highest greatest of truths, and you can do nothing about it.¡±

    Micheal did indeed understand. The obsession that drove one to pursue a path, the length they would go for it. The ways it warped their very being in its image. He knew better than anyone. Might made right in this lawless world, with all paths being forced to secede before the most powerful.

    And yet he could not accept it.

    His aura flared as he refused to bend before a greater power. Refused to bend before the facts of reality. He was The King, and he would not be constrained by that which he ruled.

    Dargonth looked at him with amusement. ¡°Can¡¯t handle the truth, little King?¡± he mocked. ¡°So weak. I always wondered why HE favored you.¡± He trained his gaze upon me.

    ¡°HE favors us because we are more than our cruelty. We are more than beasts.¡±

    Dargonth shrugged, the expression strange on his dragon body. ¡°I wonder what HE will think when I pull him down from the heavens and devour him, piece by piece?¡±

    I chuckled, pitying the little wyrm. He did not understand.

    Divinity was more than power.

    Micheal¡¯s expression twisted as he reached deeper into himself, searching for the power that would let him take the next step.

    ¡°It''s futile, little king. Why struggle?¡±

    Micheal wasn¡¯t listening, too lost in himself to pay attention.

    Might may make right, but it didn¡¯t have to. There were things beyond might, things beyond power.

    All things must kneel before their king, no matter their power.

    His mantle burst from his back in an explosion of azure-gold power, supercharging his aura and bending the world to his will for a split second before retreating.

    Dargonth, exploded to his feet, startled. ¡°What was that, little king?¡±

    Micheal answered with another awe-inspiring aura burst before it once more receded.

    He was on the brink of the next step.

    So close¡­ just a few more minutes¡­

    But Dargonth didn''t give him that time, flaring his aura as he dove towards Micheal with vicious intent.

    Micheal managed to bring himself to awareness just in time to redirect another sky-shaking blow.

    And the battle was joined anew.

 14.6 - Deaths Kiss

    Micheal lunged through a space bend, barely avoiding a blurring claw swipe, only to be met with a gout of sinful flames, brimming with intent to destroy so strong they left a black streak of shattered space in their wake.

    Acting on instinct, Micheal used his newfound understanding to summon his mantle for a split second, issuing a command the second the azure-gold cloth adorned him.

    ¡°Cease¡±

    The flame vanished like a snuffed campfire, instantly ceasing to be under the weight of Micheal¡¯s command. Micheal spun away from a group of conjured flame dragons, desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

    When issued commands with his mantle, they stood on the line between command and something else. Something much mightier than a mere command.

    And they were powerful, far more powerful than they should be for the weight of intent and will he put into them. Like the world was eager to heed his orders.

    He snapped back from his musings as a space started to catch fire, burning with black flames the radiated pressure that threatened to force Micheal to the ground. He was once forced to summon his mantle and issue one of those strange commands.

    ¡°Extinguish¡±

    And the fire was extinguished once more.

    Dargonth roared in frustration, unable to understand where Micheal¡¯s power was coming from. Micheal, for his part, used it sparingly. Summoning his mantle was a strain on his newfound comprehension, and he wasn''t sure how many more times he could leverage its power.

    They dueled in the sky for what seemed to Micheal like hours. Micheal was forced to summon his mantle five more times, and each time it increased his understanding of it, even as it drained him dry.

    Finally, after slipping around another of Dargonth¡¯s attacks, Micheal decided to test its power directly. He took a deep breath and summoned his mantle once more, feeling his strength drain into it. Then he fed it even more power.

    His crown shone in tandem, and for a second, he outshone Adam and Sol both.

    He extended a hand towards Dargonth, feeling the power building within him.

    ¡°Break¡± he commanded.

    There was a sense of resistance, Dargonth¡¯s spirit and path protecting his body, but Micheal pushed against it with all his might.

    And it broke before him.

    Dargonth roared in agony as his scales broke before Micheal¡¯s command, spurting golden ichor in all directions. It fell down like rain, pausing the battle below for a second before it resumed.

    Micheal swayed in the air, almost falling out of the sky. Attacking Dargonth¡¯s body directly had been foolhardy, but the results were undeniable. Micheal was lucky that Dargonth was too distracted to take advantage of his weakened state, and he recovered just in time to meet the now-furious Dargonth in a series of blistering exchanges.

    It was a race to see if Micheal mastered his mantle before he ran out of energy. And slowly, the battle became less and less desperate, as his commands gained more and more authority, although they refused to cross that final line, staying in that strange hybrid form.

    However, the battle below was becoming increasingly desperate as the more war focused of Micheal¡¯s siblings were forced to take on more and more, fighting both on the ground and in the air below him. He nearly cried out as he felt Astra and Erebo and cast aside their mortal shells, becoming a swirling galaxy of stars to rip massive holes in the enemy ranks, buying the rest time to regroup. When the last of their power ran out, there was nothing left.

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    There was no time to mourn as the beasts rushed in with renewed ferocity.

    One by one, his siblings finally begin to fall as the toll of hours of battle begins to take their toll. The least-warlike began to fall first. With Ceres and Dio falling as their forest unraveled, taking half a dozen princes with them. With their deaths, Frey waded further into the fray than ever, radiating golden light and leaving a trail of flowers in his wake. Micheal had seen his end come later, as he consumed the last of his path to transmute a monstrous prince of poison and decay into a golden flower. Venti became the wind, summoning a massive whirlwind that tore through the beasts like a knife through air. Thoth came next, the entirety of his knowledge lost in the belly of world warping python, who was immediately slain in turn by a roaring strike of Thar¡¯s crackling hammer. Even Sol could not endure, detonating in a supernova that slew thousands of beasts, even with a dozen princes trying to contain as much as possible. Nut followed her husband in death, summoning the pressure of the vast skies to crush and asphyxiate thousands more.

    As for their descendants, barely two-thirds still reminded, urged on by an increasingly desperate Gilded.

    Tens of thousands of normal beasts had already perished, beasts so powerful that even the weakest of them could have taken on entire mortal kingdoms. Dozens of princes had perished, powerful beings capable of warping the world with their mere presence, capable of destroying mountains and cracking space.

    And yet they kept coming, like a never ending flood.

    Micheal watched it all helplessly, even as he became increasingly adept at fending off Dargonth.

    Finally, the battle reached a tipping point as Thar, Hercules and Serceno were surrounded by a few dozen princes and thousands of awakened beasts. They fought with unyielding violence, Hercules fists creating a symphony of gore with Thars crackling hammer and Serceno¡¯s whirling blade. All that approached them were crushed, fried, and cut.

    Still, the princes matched them, and the awakened beasts stuck where they were vulnerable. Micheal saw the wounds accumulating, saw how much of their remaining forces the beasts and thrown into downing the trio, and he knew this was the tipping point.

    If he could break free for a second¡­

    The iridescent bracelet on his wrist vibrated in response, and finding a momentary lull, Micheal summoned his mantle to its fullest extent, becoming the brightest object in the sky. He threw out the bracelet Hephas had died forging, and threw it at Dargonth.

    It flew towards the dragon at lightning speeds, expanding from a single small chain to a massive iridescent net that bloated out the sky. Dargonth, seeing no way to avoid it, prepared to ward it off the second before it struck, but Micheal extended his hand once more.

    ¡°Bind¡± he commanded.

    He pushed through the now familiar pressure and felt weakness cover him as Dargonth froze. With a slight wobble, he turned to his surrounded siblings and prepared to strike down the beasts surrounding them as soon as the weakness passed.

    As for what happened next, I am perhaps the only one that truly saw it.

    Micheal¡¯s binding sank into Dargonth¡¯s spirit like a law, halting all movement, be it mental, physical or spiritual. The net rushed towards him, about to bind him completely in his moment of weakness. But Dargonth wasn¡¯t completely helpless. He had seen the net and Micheals mantle, and managed to preserve a small part of himself, wrapped in the rest of himself.

    Leaving it unbound.

    Without hesitation, he detonated that aspect of his path, shivering as the wild power rushed through him, shattering Micheals working and allowing him to regain movement just in time to fend off the net with another burst of pure power. Hephas had not predicted Dargonths true power, and as a result Dargonth was able to divert the net. The process had permanently weakened him, but now he had a clear shot at a weakened and distracted Micheal.

    Micheal started to turn around, but, in his weakened state, he was too slow. It was all he could do to reinforce his body to its fullest extent before Dargonth¡¯s full power crashed into his exposed back.

    Immediately, Micheal was neatly bisected, just as Hercules had been not so long ago. Shock rippled through him as he cemented his consciousness through sheer will, but he was quickly slipping as Dargonth unleashed vicious spiritual attacks on his now-untethered consciousness

    His sibling reacted desperately, going as far as to burn their paths and souls to try and reach him. The beasts matched them, burning their bloodlines and blocking the way. Only Hestia¡¯s desperate working made it through, but it was immediately ground to nothing by Dargonth.

    Desperation filled Micheal as he realized there was nobody here to save him. And if he fell, all of them fell. I felt him reach out to me with a desperate plea, but I could not interfere.

    Such was the burden of divinity.

    I felt his resolve harden, preparing to detonate himself, only for his scattered will to be crushed by Dargonth¡¯s gleeful will.

    Desperate, he reached out for something I could not sense, something that stirred hints of memory deep within me.

    Then he was gone.

    Then he was back.

    And his aura crushed all else underfoot.

 14.7 - Battles End

    I still am not exactly sure what happened, though Micheal explained to me much later. He touched upon something beyond even my reach, something that I can remember only fragments of.

    Endless.

    Azure.

    Eternal.

    But that''s a story for another day.

    Micheal¡¯s flesh stitched back together in a instant, and a azure-gold mantle burst from his back, billowing behind him like a pair of divine wings. His crown exploded with light, and together with his mantle, they blinded all that dared look upon him. His aura redoubled and redoubled again, surging forth like the stormy sea. He closed his eyes and tilted his head upward, basking in his newfound power. His anointment.

    A new quality, a new authority saturated it, and the world rushed to bow before its new king. The battle below came to a halt as some of the beasts began to prostrate themselves to the shining being floating above them.

    Micheal opened his eyes, and gazed upon them with regal authority, like a king looking down upon his disobedient subjects.

    Dargonth roared at seeing his army bow before another, and surging with power, he charged Micheal.

    Micheal simply held out a hand.

    ¡°Stop¡±

    It was more than a mere command. It was an edict. It was a decree. It was law.

    And the world obeyed, not because he forced it too, but because he was a King, and kings were obeyed.

    The wind froze, the battle froze, the seas froze, Dargonth froze.

    In a world of frozen time, Micheal marveled at his mantle, still streaming even in the frozen wind. The world obeyed his every whim, and with a thought, a salty sea breeze unfroze and gently caressed his cheek.

    Dargonth exploded with more power than he had ever shown, his red-gold scales turning black as he unleashed every bit of power he had. Time unfroze as he managed to break free of the working, but Micheal was no longer paying any attention.

    Instead, he was looking down at the army of beasts below, who were hesitantly returning to the battle after the shock of Micheal ascension. With new eyes, he truly saw them for the first time.

    Dargonth had been right. Orion had been right. Their power was derived not from their souls, but rather from their blood. From their inheritance. It made them mighty for little effort, but it prevented further growth And beyond that, it made them vulnerable.

    Path¡¯s forged from the soul were inseparable from those that wielded them. To separate them was to kill them. But paths inherited from blood were not nearly so immutable.

    Micheal extended an arm over the hordes of beats below, gathering his power.

    ¡°Sever¡± he commanded, feeling reality obey his edict.

    Immediately, the beast¡¯s advance ground to a halt as they were separated from their paths. As the path to survival was severed before them.

    The command washed over his people harmlessly, bounding off their immutable souls.

    I watched in shock. Such a command should have been impossible for a mortal to execute. While their paths may come from their blood, they were still incredibly tightly bound to their bodies.

    To sever them so casually¡­

    Micheal had reached the threshold.

    I could barely hold back my laughter.

    He was almost there!

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    If he could just take the final step¡­

    I wouldn''t be alone any longer.

    Then, Dargonth let out a roar, and struck Micheal like a falling star. His mantle wrapped around him protectively as Dargonth hurled them into the earth. They struck with a massive explosion, the mere force of their impact killing hundreds of beasts.

    Black flames surged around Dargonth as he burned his path in a last desperate gambit against the newly ascended king. He refused to be inferior to another, especially one younger than himself. One who was originally weaker.

    The earth shook and the skies blackened as Dargonth released everything against Micheal, burning himself away in the process.

    Even Micheal¡¯s sibling were forced to back up and shield themselves and their descendants with massive shields of manifested truth. The beasts enjoyed no such protection, and severed from their paths, they died in droves.

    At first, Micheal¡¯s mantle protected him, but as he overcame the surprise he began to fight back, slowly forcing Dargonth back through pure will and authority. Dargonth¡¯s desperation reached new heights as he was slowly forced back.

    But Micheal was beginning to flag as well. He had severed the paths of thousands before even fully understanding the extent of his true power, and the backlash was making itself apparent, as was the exhaustion.

    Soon, they reached an impasse, striking out in a flurry of mental, physical, and spiritual attacks. Dargonth gave Micheal no time to muster the strength for another edict, and as he noticed Micheal begin to give ground, he pressed harder.

    And harder.

    It was a matter of endurance now. Would Dargonth burn himself out before Micheal succumbed, or would Micheal succumb first?

    The planet began to shake as their metaphysical weight threated to crush it, and I quietly reached out to stabilize it, entrapped by the immensity of what I was witnessing.

    Micheal began to struggle more. He just needed time to familiarize himself with his new power, but now he felt like he was in a different body. Unfamiliar and foreign. He had power in spades, but he didn¡¯t know how to properly leverage it. And Dargonth didn¡¯t give him the time to figure it out, pressing Micheal so hard he couldn''t even find it within himself to ignite his own path in turn.

    His sibling watched him be slowly pushed back towards them, and struggled to defend the rest of their descendants as they grew closer and closer. Something had to be done.

    The sun was setting now, the entirety of the day having been passed in furious battle. Humanity was barely hanging on anymore, trapped behind a massive shield as Dargonth burned away in a last ditch attempt to kill a newly ascended Micheal. They were mere miles away now, and the power they exuded threatened to slay all of them. And some of them it had.

    Promoth had sacrificed himself first, diverting Dargonth¡¯s full power attacks, burning up even as he erased world-ending black fire from existence. His wife Soteria joined him shortly after, burning herself away to cast a massive shield of protection around them, one so powerful it had endured non-stop attacks for nearly an hour.

    But now that the protective influence of the sun was falling behind the horizon, the children of Adam found themselves weakened.

    All except one.

    As their shields began to give way, as even the time Soteria had bought them turned out to be too little, and the full moon rose above the horizon, Artemis stood from where she had been quietly preparing.

    She looked at her siblings and their descendents huddled together, excluding otherworldly power and glory even at their end. Less than half remained, but It would have to be enough.

    She looked outside of the dome that surrounded them and saw Micheal, her brother, fighting for his life. Fighting for their lives. She could see him desperately trying to burn his path for power, and failing as Dargonth denied him the time and familiarity he needed to start the process.

    Yet even without the flame of sacrifice and glory lighting him up, he shone with brilliant light as he stood strong. But she could tell he wouldn''t last long.

    Dargonth, too, had burned away too much of himself to survive when sacrifices flame winked out, but it would last long enough to end them first.

    She wouldn''t let that happen.

    She reached behind her, and drew the arrow she had been working on for decades. It was a simple thing, an arrow of silver, filled with violent intent. But its power was staggering.

    As the rest of her family turned their attention to her, she nocked the arrow, and stepped outside the shield through a ray of moonlight.

    She had always known this is how it would end. Had known it since Orion died.

    She drew the arrow, pouring more power into it then she had ever before. Then she went further, letting her life and essence flow into the arrow.

    This arrow would be the moon.

    It would be death.

    When it was finally ready, she stood on legs she could no longer feel.

    ¡°Orion, my love. I¡¯m coming.¡±

    She released the arrow.

    Micheal saw the opportunity in the steak of silver, and agony filling him as he sensed his sister''s bow tumbling to the ground, he used Dargonth momentary hesitation to muster one final command.

    ¡°Halt¡± he snarled, the edict binding everything except for a single flash of silver.

    Dargonth struggled, but in the end, he couldn¡¯t break free of Micheal¡¯s final command.

    A flash of silver struck him in the chest, and its majestic essence of silver stillness, icy cold, and quiet death, extinguished the already weak flame in his chest.

    For a moment, the world was frozen.

    Then Dargonth, Tyrant of the beats, Dragon of Flame, the last remaining being from the beginning, toppled to the ground, dead.

    Micheal followed him to the ground a second later, exhausted and unconscious.

    The barrier fell, and humanity hesitantly walked forward, gazing at the dragon''s corpse.

    They were less than half of what they once were, yet gazing at the corpse of the dragon, a glorious realization filled them.

    They had won.

    Heimdall slowly raised Prenutius, his horn, to his lips and blew a single triumphant note from it. It echoed across the planet, this time, not a herald of the end, but rather a herald of a new beginning.

    Of a new age.

 15 - A Kings Passing

    Humanity continued to grow, unimpeded with the death of the beast. Their numbers exploded in the following centuries, expanding into a vast empire ruled by none other than Gilded, who had inherited his father¡¯s throne directly following the last battle. A mighty unity of man was formed, and together they achieved miracles, heralding a new age of technology and growth. It was the early years of Humanity, and they thrived. Strangely enough, in those years, the children of Adam and the strongest of the second generation, for the most part, faded into the background, becoming figures of myth and legend. Sometimes I wonder where they went¡­

    The beasts, now sever of the blood that had empowered them, were powerless to stop humanity Finally free of them, Humanity spread across the land like a wildfire, transforming the land as they went. In the wake of their passage, cities sprung up, proud castles piercing the skies, and farmland spread, giving birth to a variety of hearty crops. Technology sprung out of the minds of the eccentric, transforming life into a strange hybrid of automatons and men.

    In the center of it all, the Stronghold still stood, though it had been renamed to Cunabla, the cradle of man. The temple of Adam¡¯s children still stood strong in the center, though it had been more than a century since they had graced it with their presence. Still, it radiated power and meaning to all who dared approach it, and it had quickly become a holy site for the growing kingdom of man. Next to the temple, another building stood, and although it lacked the power and detail of the temple, it was majestic in its own right, with blue walls and patterned floors. On the second floor, in a massive throne room, Gilded sat on a throne of stone, reminiscent of his fathers. Threads of his path, of his unity spilled out of him with power that belittled his now wrinkled skin and gray hair. Centuries after the final battle, he was the last of the second generation to remain, and I could tell he couldn''t resist the wheel of time for much longer.

    I had watched as they grew, and as they died. It was mesmerizing, watching the minutiae of their lives, the seemingly arbitrary truths they held dear, and the eternal principles they cast aside. Watching them adopt new practices and cast aside old ones. It was strange. Their souls were mere embers compared to their ancestors, and yet they still shone, with flashes of brilliant and flares of rage both.

    I let myself sink back into them, tracing their lives tenderly, carefully so as not to influence their paths. They were a beautiful, complicated mess, and I learned so much from watching them, refining my creations in their images. Occasionally, I would even don my mortal skin, and wander among them, pretending, for precious moments, that I was one of them.

    That I was not alone.

    I do not know how long I spent wandering among them, perhaps years, perhaps decades. I saw wondrous things, men and women fighting and loving. Acts of impulse and care both. Women raising children, and men working alongside automatons.

    But in the end, they were fundamentally different from me, and our differences only brought me sorrow, so I retreated to my abode far above.

    More years passed, and Gilded got weaker and weaker as time pressed more and more of its burden upon him. Soon, almost 300 years after the last battle, he gave in, passing the throne onto his son, Charles, and burning the last of himself to stabilize the kingdom in those transitory years.

    I felt Micheal reach out from the stars to help his son pass on, helping him pressing his path into the world, ever so subtly warping the world in his image.

    The funeral trumpets blared loudly on that day, sending the kingdom of man into mourning. I mourned with them. Gilded had been a worthy man, even if he had failed to reach the heavens in the end.

    Micheal appeared before me the next day. Or rather he called me before him. I gathered my diffuse essence, and manifested myself in my entirety before him. I did not insult him by containing myself within a mortal form, no, Micheal alone was worthy of gazing upon my true self. I understood how I appeared to mortal eyes, a humanoid figure of infinity and power, swirling with hidden currents, a man-shaped window into something greater. To him I would be even more, my essence clear to his azure eyes. My physical presence annihilated space itself, leaving us suspended in True Void outside of the universe.

    Micheal looked around curiously, not at all afraid of the void. His physical form looked the same as it always had, a young man with pitch-black hair and azure eyes, a black crown atop his brow, and a golden mantle streaming out behind him, but his aura told a different story.

    A story of a king. A man who could command the star to kneel before him at a whim,

    A man on the brink of ascension.

    A god in the making.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± he asked curiously.

    ¡°The void.¡± I replied. ¡°This is where I awoke. The universe floats within it.¡±

    ¡°It''s marvelous¡± he whispered, reaching out a hand to caress the absolute absence of everything. It tried to unmake him as well, urging him to join it in its nothingness, but he warded off its attempts with a brush of his will.

    I let him enjoy being free of the universe and its laws for a time.

    Let him float in the absence of everything, on the greatest canvas to ever exist.

    Finally, he looked back at me. ¡°Is this what birthed you?¡±

    ¡°No¡± I answered automatically, before hesitating for a second to gather my thoughts. ¡°I¡­ awoke in the void. But I was not wrought of it. I am from¡­ somewhere else.¡±

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    ¡°You don¡¯t remember?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes¡­ I have flashbacks. Times when memory feels close¡­ but no, I do not remember. All I remember is waking, and a faint feeling something was wrong. That there should be something where there was nothing. So I spoke light into an empty void, and I created something from nothing.¡± I motioned to the universe.

    Micheal shifted his attention to it, taking it in. From outside it appeared to be but a small bubble floating in an endless sea. An ember in the eternal night.

    ¡°It''s beautiful¡± he breathed softly, reaching out to run a hand along its membrane.

    It felt good to finally have someone recognize my creation.

    For a time we stood in contemplative silence. I do not know how long, for time is a foreign concept to the void, but eventually, I was forced to interrupt the peaceful silence.

    ¡°Micheal,¡± I began, ¡°Why have you called me?¡±

    He sighed, and turned to face me.

    ¡°I wanted to say goodbye¡±

    ¡°Goodbye?¡±

    ¡°Yes, goodbye. I¡¯m tired. I plan on passing on soon.¡±

    I paused for a second, stunned. ¡°No. You can¡¯t pass on now. You¡¯re so close. Just a tiny bit more¡­¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I know what is needed to cross that final barrier. It is not a price I can pay.¡±

    ¡°It is not a price, Micheal, but an elevation. Mortality is a blight upon the true. Cast it aside, and join me in divinity.¡±

    ¡°My mortality defined me, shaped me, made me. I¡­ I cannot sever it anymore. It is too ingrained in my essence.¡±

    ¡°Micheal¡± I said urgently, perhaps a bit desperately, ¡°You could be a god. Create your own universe.¡± I indicated the tiny bubble containing all of creation. ¡°You could have it all.¡±

    ¡°And for what? I see how lonely you are.¡± he replied tiredly. ¡°My siblings are dead. My children are dead. My time has passed.¡±

    ¡°They still live, Micheal. Just¡­¡± I trailed off as I saw him frown.

    ¡°Don¡¯t start.¡± he interrupted, a trace of anger in his voice. ¡°My siblings are dead. Their souls have gone to the golden sea. The traces of their paths, and the ways they have bent the universe in their image are not them. Merely their corpses.¡±

    Seeing as that would not work, I changed tactics.

    ¡°What of humanity? With Gilded¡¯s death it''s unlikely they will maintain this golden age. Charles cannot hold them together. War and death will return to the lands of men.¡±

    Micheal sighed tiredly. ¡°So be it. They must find their own paths.¡±

    ¡°Micheal, you cann-¡±

    ¡°Grandfather!¡± he interrupted, his voice containing the authority that defined him. ¡°I have made my decision!¡±

    While I was reeling from how he addressed me, feeling both warmth creeping into me at the familiar title, and ice at the thought of losing it, he lowered his voice, withdrew his authority, and spoke again, turning his head to the infinite black.

    ¡°I understand you are lonely, but I am tired. I just want to wander into the endless void, and quietly pass into the golden sea, where I can finally rest.¡±

    He turned back to me, and his smile was at once heartbreaking and hopeful.

    ¡°I just want to rest.¡±

    We stayed like that for a long time, just staring at each other, and with a dawning sadness, I realized I could not hold him back.

    ¡°Tell me¡± I finally managed to force out. ¡°Tell me what you saw.¡±

    ¡°What did I see?¡±

    ¡°The day you ascended. During the last battle.¡±

    Understanding lit up his face, and he nodded, eyes going distant as he recalled a long-ago time.

    ¡°I was dying. I remember it well. The pain, the fear, not only for myself, but for my family should I fall, and the struggle. I struggled like I never had before, and like I never have since. But Dargonth was too powerful, and without a beating heart, I lacked the leverage to match him. One moment, I was in the struggle of my life, the next I was in the shallows of the sea.¡±

    He stretched out a finger, letting light shine from it, and began to draw faint lines of newly-created space in the void.

    ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to describe the sea. It was everything. Infinite. An expanse of souls. Even you are nothing compared to it. It was mostly golden, with a few flecks of azure-hanging in space, looking like remnants of a bygone age.¡±

    Memory stirred in me at the mention of the azure, and a flash of an endless sky appeared before me, an expanse of being. The sea was the same, I was sure, yet different.

    I wondered what had changed.

    ¡°I was immediately aware of a simple fact, one so simple it was as if I had always known it. It was not my time. There was a sense of rejection, and I knew I could not linger for long. But in the time I lingered, everything was so crystal clear, the distilled truths of everything on display before my eyes. I dipped my hands into the water, and brought the golden liquid to my mouth. It tasted like soulstuff, pure and powerful. My exhaustion was washed away, and enlightenment filled me.¡±

    He clenched his fist a light burst from it like a supernova, creating swaths of space before the void derived them once more.

    ¡°I wove my mantle right there and then, from the golden water. It was effortless, and took a mere second. When I was done, the last of the azure flecks drifted down, and settled upon it, bringing with it power of an identical nature, but with a few subtle differences I failed to identify.¡±

    His mantle burst from his back, swirling around him like a tempest.

    ¡°Then I just¡­ left. Returned to the world of the living. I¡¯ve desired to go back ever since. And now¡­ I think it is time.¡±

    I said nothing, my mind racing with hints of memory just out of reach, and for a time he seemed content to accompany me silently, looking down upon the universe.

    Then abruptly, he turned to me. ¡°Goodbye, grandfather.¡±

    I swallowed the storm of foreign emotion swirling within me. ¡°Goodbye, grandson.¡±

    Without further fanfare, he turned and struck out into the void.

    Leaving me alone once more.

    Perhaps forever.

 16 - Angelica

    My ancestor was boundless. From the beginning she could not be contained. In everything she did the full force of her essence supported her. Most beings are composed of two parts. The soul and the body. But she was only one. The soul made body. She was as true to herself as could possibly be. Pure in her every action, for in every action, all she knew was the action. Simplicity to the point of infinity. Maybe that''s why God himself fell for her.

    I felt her birth. Like a lightning bolt to the head. The birth of being more akin to me than any other. I watched the messenger rush through the Cunabla¡¯s burning streets with her in his arms, struggling to keep the king''s youngest daughter from those that desired his throne.

    In that moment, I forgot about the shattered kingdom of man.

    Forgot about the warring city-states.

    All that mattered was the creation of that nascent soul. She was beautiful. Essence manifested physically, not mearley contained in a physical vessel.

    For mortals, gazing upon her would be painful. The light of the soul would sear their eyes and break their minds. For me it was beautiful, like the first rays of the incoming sunrise. An indicator of what was to come. She was born in a small town tucked into the mountains, a refuge for those fleeing the many wars that had erupted upon Charles¡¯ failure to hold together his fathers kingdom.

    There she grew up. At first the town was wary of the angelic child. Hardly any effort on her part won them over. A single toss of her golden hair, and a teary blink of her azure eyes and they melted before her. She was radiant in a way indescribable by mortal words. Sincere beyond mortality. Honest to fault. Kindness far past reason. And beautiful beyond imagination. She was loved by that small town.

    And they named her. Angelica an Erduk.

    As she grew older, the young man of the village began to seek her hand in love, showering her with flowers and gifts. She welcomed them with open arms, and a simple smile was enough to make them forget their original purpose for approaching her. I will admit, I may have grown jealous watching them, though at the time i¡¯m not sure if I could understand such subtle emotions.

    Still, I assumed a mortal form and appeared before the small cabin she lived alone in. She invited me inside. There were a thousand things I wanted to ask her at that moment, a thousand secrets I wanted to reveal to her, but in the end, one trumped them all.

    ¡°How are you so true?¡±

    She was surprised. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°How are you so true?¡± I repeated, struggling to articulate my meaning through the flawed vessel of human language with a frown. I quickly gave up, and reached out to her with a tendril of pure meaning, trusting her body-soul gestalt to handle the burden of such intimate communication.

    In simple words, I asked her of her purity. Of how she seemed so untainted by the profanity of the mortal world. Of how she could focus the entirety of her effort into a single task, unlike my own diffuse essence.

    She smiled, a blossoming of flowers.¡°I just am. What else could I be?¡±

    I spent days with her. Talking and teaching and learning. She seemed as fascinated with me as I was with her. Eventually, she asked, ¡°Who are you? I¡¯ve never met anyone like you.¡±

    A name. I never had a name before. Once more, something brushed at the edges of my memory, gone before I could even think to turn to it. I bit back my frustration, and thought about how to introduce myself. This was unlike my other forays in the mortal world, and I suspected that she alone could see me as I truly was. But I didn''t know how to communicate the truth of what I was.

    In the end, words failed me, and I reached out with my essence once more.

    To my surprise, she didn¡¯t even flinch upon feeling my essence, an achievement which only confirmed my suspicions.

    She was not like the others.

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    ¡°You¡­ you created all this?¡± she asked curiously, vaguely gesturing to the air.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Her azure eyes shone as she leaned forward, nearly touching her tanned nose to my brown one. ¡°How?¡± she asked excitedly.

    I told her. Of my awakening in the void. Of self-creation in the forge of infinity. Of the light I had summoned. Of the order I had created, and the chaos I had broken it with. I spoke of the slow process of perfecting my creation, of weaving laws, and creating matter to follow them.

    We talked for hours as I explained the intricacies of law-weaving and creation. She was a good listener. No, she was the best listener.

    She threw the entirety of her towering mind and soul into listening to me, hanging onto my every word as if it was the secret to life itself. I could feel myself falling in love even as we talked, the sense of loneliness receding in her warm light. I felt seen in a way I had never been before, and without my conscious intervention, more and more slipped out of me, the story shifting away from mere words into deeper mediums of communication.

    Without even intending to, I began to express my growing loneliness, then forlorn awareness that there would be nobody to see what I had made. New emotions sprang to the forefront of my mind as I communicated, brought into the light by her soft glow.

    I was snapped out of my trance by a warmth pressing against my forehead and spun gold brushing against my cheeks. My eyes refocused to see Angelica''s tear filled azure eyes holding my own. WIth a start, I realized that my own eyes had long since been filled with quiet tears.

    She sobbed softly as she pressed her forehead to mine harder, and wrapped her arms around me, empathizing with me in a way I had never even imagined. I looked at her in wonder, my own pain forgotten in her beauty.

    Slowly, she pulled away, hiccuping as she lifted her eyes to mine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. Sorry that you have been alone all these eons. Sorry that there was no one to gaze upon your creation.¡± She paused. ¡°I am here now. And I would love to see what you have wrought.¡±

    I fell in love even as I stared at her, watching her sorrow instantly shift into fierce determination, pivoting the entity of her essence as easily as breathing.

    She was beautiful.

    I stood up and held out a hand to her.

    ¡°May I have this dance?¡±

    She seized the hand with fierce resolve.

    Slowly but surely I began that dance with her. We swayed around the room, adjusting to each other. I let Shiva¡¯s ethereal music flow through the room, honoring her path, even in her death, and led Angelica through a few slow dances. She quickly threw herself into the dance with the full force of her very essence, the force of her uncheck passion warping the world around her. Any other being would have been overwhelmed by her sheer force.

    But not me.

    I only danced faster, guiding her through increasingly intricate steps. She matched me and even began to add her own steps. I felt a smile beginning to show at the pure joy on her face. That purity that I admired. As the dance reached a crescendo, I Stepped.

    Then we were dancing atop the countless blue waves of the sea. Angelica almost stumbled, azure eyes flashing in surprise, before recovering and dancing only harder.

    Step.

    We danced above a mighty city laughing as its citizens cried out in shock.

    Step.

    We danced far above the earth, stepping on space itself as the planet loomed below us.

    Step.

    The sun''s brilliant plasma shone as bright as it could, but still she was brighter.

    Step.

    A river of stars stretched out below us and we skated through it, weaving to the rhythm of the unseen song.

    Step.

    A singularity flashed by.

    Step.

    The corpse of a star-eating giant was trampled underfoot.

    Step.

    The clouds of the undying nebula whirled past.

    Step.

    We danced above the universe itself. The entirety of existence stretched out beneath us. I began to shed the mortal form I had taken. In its place I physically manifested portions of my soul. Just like her. She either didn''t notice or didnt care, and only danced all the harder. Soon the entirety of my soul was physically manifested. Reality shook and I had to exert conscious effort to keep the space together,

    But Angelica just kept dancing in step to the rhythm of creation itself.

    I danced with her, reveling in the feeling of truly being with someone in their entirety. Reveling in her truth. The music picked up, reaching for the peak of possibility. Azure eyes flashed and golden hair swayed. A man shaped hole to infinity joined in the abstract movements. Together they wove together in intricate motions, weaving their souls together. The last note echoed through the void. The last drumbeat vibrated through nothing.

    My lips met hers and two souls became one.

    The power of God.

    The one-sided focus of Purity.

    Purity and power joined and something new was created.

 17 - Doubt

    But It couldn''t last. She discovered the truth. Of the genocides that lead to the creation of humanity. She feared humanity would face the same. So she prepared to the best of her capabilities. But she failed. I must not make the same mistakes. He has grown bitter, grown tired. I fear what is to come. All I have is her knowledge. And her blade. I hope it''s enough.

    I watched with sorrow as yet another city burned, its inhabitants screaming out as the flame reduced them to naught but ash. It was far from the first city that had burned in the years since Cunable itself had gone up in flames. But with each one, I found myself feeling more and more towards the suffering people.

    It was a dangerous proposition. To be divine was to be separate from mere mortality. To care for them was to reconnect to my severed humanity, eroding at the foundations of my divinity.

    But under Angelica¡¯s prodding, both gentle and passionate, I found the echoes of mortality within me growing.

    I found myself reaching out, yearning to take those scared souls into my arms, and reassure them that it was alright, before I remembered myself and snatched my will back.

    Intervention was only to be resorted to at the gravest of time, and only with those brushing upon divinity themselves.

    Angelica at my side let out a low growl, and I felt the anger and frustration radiate out of her with shocking intensity. I turned to her with explanations already on my lip, but she turned around and left without another word.

    I let out a sigh. After years of being together, it was the one thing we could never agree on. She wanted me to intervene, to stop the endless cycle of violence and death, but I refused. It was not my place to intervene in the lives of mortals.

    Still, our time together had been wondrous. We lived on the earth and we danced in the stars. And we created miracles. My power and her purity. Layers upon layers of meaning draped over the creations I had once believed to be perfect. Stars shone not only with inner light but also the concept of light itself. Blood carries not only nutrients but also life itself. The physical began to grow less physical, more conceptual. And the possibilities abounded.

    She was my light in a dark universe, unveiling the path forward.

    Everything was perfect, except for one thing.

    I had given her no children.

    I knew I was tempting fate by playing with such a mortal desire, but I couldn''t help it. I wanted to see what we could create together. Who we could create together.

    But I could not. Over the years I had begun to discover love, but I had not reached that point Adam had achieved so long ago.

    That point of creating a new soul.

    I was still pondering the issue when she stormed back into the cabin and took a seat across the table from me, glancing at me with an expectant look.

    ¡°Angelica,¡± I started, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But I cannot intervene on such a scale. It would undermine everything I have built so far, and ever hope I have for them. I just¡­ I cannot. It goes against what I am.¡±

    She was silent, and I found myself looking everywhere but her as she gathered her thoughts. This was an old argument, and I knew exactly what she was going to say.

    Our cabin, I still got a strange thrill out of the our part, was small but cozy, with a simple one room structure and a thatched roof. It was strange living in a cabin when I could have manifested a towering castle with a thought, but I enjoyed it all the same.

    ¡°My love, we cannot just leave those people to die. The world is on fire, and you could put it out with a thought. So why do you do nothing!¡±

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    She was red faced when she finished, her passion rippling through the room in angry waves.

    ¡°It''s not my way, Angelica. I am separate from mortal sensibilities. To express them, is to taint my very being.¡±

    Her voice was low and dangerous.¡±Am I tainting you then? A stain on your perfection.¡±

    I choose my next words carefully. ¡°You are different. You aren¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°-quiet mortal. Yes, I¡¯ve heard. And yet, I still consider those people my people. Perhaps you should try the same.¡±

    When I didn¡¯t say anything, she threw her arms up and stormed out once more, the force of her anger threatening to render the cabin asunder.

    With her gone, I was once more stuck pondering the issue of our children. It was painfully obvious that our relationship was being strained by the wars raging through the mortal world. I thought back to what I had observed from mortal couples. Strangely enough, It seemed that the need for true love to produce children was fading, the mechanism integrating itself into humanity as a whole. Those children had weaker souls than those born of love, but they had human souls nonetheless. Those that sired children of love seemed to have one thing in common.

    Trust. Trust and honesty.

    They told each other everything, and that trust fostered love.

    Should I tell her the rest of my story then? Such a thing would once more be surrendering to mortal sensibilities, but I could see no other way to strengthen our relationship to the necessary extent. But I worried what she would think of it. What she would think of me when she realized what I had done.

    I was still struggling with the problem when Anglica returned once more and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was in my mortal form at the moment, and the gesture warded off a cold I had not even realized existed till that moment.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispered in my ear, ¡°I know you''re getting better. I¡¯m just¡­ worried.¡±

    As I felt her warmth, the heartfelt apology radiating from every inch of her being, I made my decision.

    ¡°Angelica,¡± I said, ¡°I need to talk to you.¡±

    She lifted her head curiously, ¡°Yes?¡±

    I got up and turned to her, holding out a hand. ¡°First, may I have this dance.¡±

    Smiling, she grabbed my hand and we danced as once had.

    Then it was over, and we were once more floating in space, with me having shed my  mortal form. The stars glimmered around us, a tapestry of light and dark, punctuated by streaks of distance comments and misshapen nebulas.

    I took a deep breath and let it out. ¡°I want to tell you the rest of my story.¡±

    She nodded at me, and brushed her hair out of her ears, preparing to listen with all her being, only reaffirming my commitment to tell her.

    I reached out with my essence, and resumed the story from where we had last left off, on the day we first met.

    I closed my eyes, unable to look upon her, and told her the story of life.

    Of the first creator, and its subsequent destruction. Of the myriad of other creatures I had birthed on my quest to create beings capable of ascension. I told her of failure after failure, and genocide after genocide, all in the pursuit of my apex creation. I told of the tipping point, and the perfection my rage had wrought. The lives of Adam and his children came pouring out. Of the things they taught me and the paths they forged. I vocalized my hopes of one day gaining a peer and my hopes of humanity living up to its full potential.

    When I was done, I finally looked over at Angelica. Her face was bone white, and she was shivering. I stiffened for a second, wondering if I had made a grave mistake in telling her. I knew she likely wouldn¡¯t be happy with what I had done in pursuit of life, but all the creatures I had purged were barely souled. Barely even worthy of being considered ¡°alive¡±.

    I began to fall into a spiral of what-ifs, before forcefully stabilizing myself. No, this was Angelica. I knew her. She would get over this.

    ¡°Are you ok dear?¡± I questioned.

    She didn¡¯t respond, only shivering harder. When I floated over to hold her, she flinched back. It felt like having a knife driven into my divine chest, and I clumsily withdrew my hands.

    We floated in silence for what seemed like eternity, before she finally spoke. ¡°What¡­What¡± she whispered ¡°What happens if humanity doesn''t live up to your hopes? What happens if we fail you?¡±

    She looked up at me with desperate eyes. Fear spilled out of her in waves. I didn¡¯t know what to say, but I remember thinking that honesty was still necessary for trust. I should have lied.

    ¡°I would start again¡± I answered simply.

    Her fear vanished in an instant, replaced by a soft smile. I could tell something was wrong, but the feeling was faint.

    ¡°Let''s go home.¡± she said.

    We went home.

 17.2 - Loves Blade

    For a time, things continued as they always had. But something was off. Angelica had thrown herself into convincing me to stop the wars with new fervor, and our conflicts grew more and more numerous.

    Furthermore, Angelica¡¯s purity was weakening. She was losing the focus that I so admired. Eventually, I grew so worried that I confronted her.

    ¡°Angelica. Are you ok? You have been distant lately?¡±

    ¡°I''m fine. I''m just¡­ working on something¡±

    Something in her voice was off but I paid it no heed. Trust, right?

    ¡°Ok¡± I replied ¡°If you need help just ask¡±

    She left without a word.

    Two months later, she asked for my help.

    She asked me to take her to the hottest star, and give her the strongest of metals. I obliged without a second thought. I would do almost anything for my Angelica. I told her as much.

    She wanted to forge a blade. I fashioned a hammer for her. Wrought out of the essence of a back hole and tempered with the concept of fire.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    She nodded, more determined than I had seen her in years. I was happy to see her finding her purity once more. I let my lips meet hers, and lent my power to the focus of her purity. I felt it immediately. I normally let her have her privacy, but this merger allowed none.

    Her focus was greater than ever. A jumbled sea of rage, sorrow, helplessness, and a thousand others united in purpose.

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± I questioned.

    ¡°Yes, Trust me¡±

    I took a long look at her. Her mind was a mess but the strongest of all her emotions, determination, united the mess of her heart behind her soul. I decided to trust her.

    The forging process took both a blink and an eternity. She drew upon my power as she hammered and folded that star-metal. With every blow, she infused another concept, creating an intricate web of concepts. Death, destruction, chaos, binding, entropy, and countless other concepts went into the forging of that intricate blade. I was beginning to worry. I saw where the concepts were going. Infinity scattering. Eternity shattering. God-slaying. It was worrying. Still, I remembered her last words.

    Trust me

    Trust is the root of love. I hesitated, then came to a decision. Angelica would never hurt anybody. There had to be another reason for forging such a blade. I would trust her. Even as I made that decision, I felt a current of warmth spread through me. Conceptual warmth, like the light of the sun. The light of love. I smiled. I was beginning to understand.

    Angelica continued the forging. With every blow, the endless web of concepts aligned itself more. I poured power and knowledge into her, and I directly modified the blade, strengthening and correcting her design.

    Angelica lifted her blade for the final blow. I poured my power into her, weaving idealized god-slaying intent into it. She gathered all my unfocused power and condensed it to the utmost degree. I quickly corrected the last of the minuscule errors. I was excited now. To help her create something like this, to help her find her purity again? It felt good. I felt closer than ever to understanding love.

    ¡°Finish it love!¡± my voice boomed in encouragement.

    She brought the hammer down with a tremendous boom that echoed throughout space. The hammer shattered and space cracked. I protected Angelica with my power, and we watched as the sword consumed everything in its vicinity. It needed that power to solidify and confirm its intent and power. I opened a conduit to infinity and connected it to the blade. Power poured into it and with a crack like heaven itself breaking, the blade annihilated everything in a perfect sphere around it. With a wave of my hand, I forced space back into position and teleported us to the blade. It was a one-edged, slightly curved blade. A katana, as they would call it now. An elegant and simple blade that shimmered with hidden power and ended in a grip of woven starlight. Its true beauty was the concepts woven within it. Intricate weavings of death in destruction augmented themselves and drew power from infinity itself. It was a blade meant to slay the unkillable.

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    She named it God-slayer in a trembling voice.

    ¡°Excellent job love! I couldn''t have done better myself!¡±

    Strangely enough, though, she was not smiling. She wasn''t even remotely happy.

    I grew concerned, but I didn''t want to impede on her moment.

    ¡°Claim the sword dear. It''s yours¡±

    She was hesitant, and strangely enough my encouragement only seemed to further her hesitation. She turned to me suddenly,

    ¡°Would you ever destroy humanity?¡±

    I was surprised.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    She was trembling now, hints of tears appearing in her brilliant azure eyes.

    ¡°Would you destroy humanity if we failed you? If we don¡¯t become what you hope we will become?¡±

    ¡°Wh¡­¡±

    ¡°Would you!¡± she screamed, a chaotic mix of fear, anger, heartbreak, and a thousand other emotions pouring off of her. ¡°I see how you treat the so-called mortals! So let me ask you this! If they cast aside all aspirations of divinity, and contented themselves to the earth, what would you do?¡±

    ¡°My love, I don¡¯t see how this is re-¡±

    ¡°WHAT WOULD YOU DO!?¡± she screamed, tears pouring from her eyes.

    Honesty is a human quality. To state the subjective as truth is arrogance beyond belief. Yet in that moment. That terribly confusing moment, it was all I had. The only tool of love I had. So, I doubled down. I had been honest so far, and I would be honest to the end.

    ¡°I¡­ Yes. If they failed to appreciate the chance I gave them. If they stopped striving to be the best they could possibly be. If they contented themselves with the dirt. Then¡­ yes. I would start anew. But I don''t think that will ever beco¨C. What are you doing?¡±

    The moment she heard my answer, that confusion and fear became determination. A single movement aligned with the purpose of soul. She drew the blade, and pointed it at the center of my essence.

    Then she CUT.

    Space split, and the void threatened to swallow my creation. I reacted instinctively, lashing out with a hint of power and blasting her back.

    ¡°What are you doing!¡± I boomed once more, louder this time.

    ¡°Saving humanity! If I allow you to live you will destroy my people!¡±

    ¡°If they ever descended to the point where I was forced to destroy them, they wouldn''t be humanity anymore!¡±

    She ignored my words and screamed back,

    ¡°I have seen the way you talked of the past civilizations! The way every lifeform will inevitably fail to meet your standards! The way you inevitably are ¡®forced¡¯ to kill them all! I see how you treat humanity! Like ants, crawling under your boot! How could I let you destroy my people like all those that came before!¡±

    I was furious now, my blossoming love only feeding the flames of my fury.

    ¡°It was my right! I created them!¡±

    ¡°And why do you get to decide?!¡±

    I was beyond furious now. My soul manifested in an implosion of space. My eyes swirled with infinity as I released the full force of my enraged presence.

    ¡°BECAUSE I AM GOD¡±

    All of creation trembled and Angelica was rocketed back, even protected by God-Slayer. The stars dimmed and the planets shook. I immediately retracted my power and stabilized my mind, shocked at my loss of control. Was this the power of love?

    Angelica was badly wounded. Yet, even near death, she was relentless, weakly raising the blade to strike again. I stepped forward, and I caught the blade in a single starry hand.

    ¡°How?!¡±

    I was in control now, but the anger and pain in my voice was still something to behold.

    ¡°You are no god. You cannot truly wield the blade¡±

    Her eyes flashed,

    ¡°Then I will end you with my hands!¡±

    She lunged at me, and I caught her throat in a single hand. I began to squeeze, watching as she trashed and squirmed. The stars shone their light upon us, witnesses to divine punishment. Her eyes pierced into me, as determined in death as in life. Her words came to me, Would you destroy humanity if we failed you? If we don¡¯t become what you hope we will become? Now she was getting the answer. Yes, I would destroy them. Yet¡­ why do you get to decide?!  I had been so close. I had almost touched love. Almost escaped my lonesomeness. The stars stood witness as I yelled in frustration and threw her unconscious body away.

    ¡°Why did you do this! WHY!¡±

    With one final roar, I cast her back down to earth, and after a second, cast the sword down with her. The last creation we had made together. An eternal reminder of her.

    I stood in place, wrestling with the tempest inside. I had always been surprised at the irrationality of mortals. Now, I understand. I wanted nothing more than to shred creation to nothing. My emotion boiled within me, and in a moment of vindictive spite, I cut them from myself one by one, feeling power return to me as I cast aside the shred of mortality eroding at my divinity.

    I had not realized how weakened I had been before my power returned to me.

    The celestial bodies witnessed my defeated return.

    And they witnessed the truth I had begun to forget.

    I would always be alone.

    Inside, a void began to grow.

 18 - Connection

    The empire of man had long dissolved into a myriad of constantly fighting city-states. But perhaps the most well-known story of this age is that of the Amajan war, a tale of sacrifice, love, honor, and death. But it was more than just a tale. The Amajan war marked a delineation between the age of gods and the age of men. It was there Achillies fell, his fabled invulnerability pierced by the spears of men. Not even Gods are truly beyond reach. That¡¯s a truth I would do well to remember.

    Scattered around the myriad of low couches, drinking and eating, the most powerful men in the known world lounged. Achilles watched them, sighing as he noticed several grabbing drunkenly at the scantily clad serving girls, easily avoided by their nimble grace. Technically, he supposed, he was one of them now, but in his heart, he would always be that peasant boy, struggling to make it to the next day.

    Still, his current situation had its advantages, he thought as he grabbed a goblet of wine off a nearby serving girl¡¯s plate and took a drink, smiling in thanks and quietly chuckling to himself as she flushed and scurried away.

    She couldn''t have been much younger than him, perhaps 18 or so, but these days he felt many times that.

    War did that to a man.

    He scanned the room with the quiet attentiveness of a man used to staking his life on his observations, noting the various monarchs and high officials chattering away. The Decennial Council of Kings was a momentous event, a meeting of the most powerful men in the world to discuss new treaties and trade agreements, one with peace mutually enforced by all its attendants. They supposed it a dignified meeting of lions, but all Achilles saw was a pit of snakes, desperately wiggling themselves into striking position, waiting for an opportunity to tear apart another rival. He wondered how they were so blind to the consequence of their little games, to the mountains of corpses and crushed dreams looking behind them, a light breeze away from burying them. Achilles was well aware of his mountain.

    Inevitably, however, he found his attention drifting away from the people and took the room. It was magnificent, a virtual repository of ancient treasures and tasteful arrangement.

    Soft music drifted through the room, courtesy of the one of the last fully functional bands of automaton musicians in the known world, a wonder lost in the drunken conversation. The walls were decorated with intricate crafted weapons in sealed cases, weapons beyond anything that could be crafted now, enough weapons to arm a full unit. Various other technological and artistic marvels were scattered around the massive hall, from ever-flowing fountains to paintings that seemed to take one to lost eras, before war had claimed the world, but one dwarfed them all.

    Along the back of that hall, a magnificent tapestry hung, depicting the god-king Micheal slaying the evil dragon tyrant. Even looking at it stirred something inside Achillies, touching on something hidden deep within his being, rousing the embers. He could feel it trying to invoke a sense of awe within him, trying to reach deep within him to grasp his beating heart. He refused, shielding himself in his characteristic invulnerability, and feeling the effect bounce off of him.

    Instead of feeling awed, he felt¡­ sad.

    Sad that the techniques used to produce such miracles had been lost in the flames of war. Sad that perhaps that last band of automatons played and nobody could even be bothered to listen. Sad that so much had yet been lost, and sad that so much more would still be lost.

    This entire hall was a window into the past, a time before war, when humanity had worked together to create marvels, marvels that were now being burned one by one to fuel the everburning forges of war.

    In a rare moment of introspection, Achilles forgot his surroundings and trained his gaze upon his calloused palms. He saw the blood of his enemies in their lines, and the smiles of departed comrades. He saw the ashes of marvels, and the towering corpse of peace.

    The death of humanity, and all its accomplishments.

    But what could he possibly do? He may have fought his way to the rank of general, but to the scheming royal lounging on these couches, he was but a peasant still. He fought to ensure the survival of himself and his brothers in arms, and nothing more.

    But perhaps. Just perhaps¡­ he could find it in him to fight for something more.

    Unconsciously he found himself stretching an arm towards the tapestry, wondering for a second what would become of him if he could feel even a fraction of the awe of past ages¡­

    If only¡­

    ¡°Magnificent, isn''t it?¡±

    Achilles snapped back to the present and instantly, reflexes flaring, reached for the dagger in his belt while spinning, only to remember they had confiscated all weapons at the entrance. He reacted instantly, and transitioned his attempted dagger draw into a smooth uppercut, lunging at his assailant as he struck.

    At the last second, his brian finally registering who exactly this ¡°assailant¡± was, he managed to stop his punch, muscles screaming as he did so.

    Right in front of him, so close their noses were practically touching, was the most beautiful woman Achillies had ever laid eyes on, clad in a simple dress of white cloth. She had shoulder length, curly black hair, framing an olive face with high-cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes.

    Her violet eyes met his with perfect serenity, despite the violence and power of his reaction. For a long second, they stayed like that, their breaths warming each other with a perfume of wine, until Achillies finally realized what had happened and flushing, stepped back, anxiously checking to ensure nobody had witnessed his major breach of decorum.

    If hadn''t managed to stop his blow¡­ he cursed his absent mindedness, shocked at how caught up in his thoughts he had gotten.

    He had thought himself beyond that.

    He realized he had been glaring at the wine cup still miraculously unspilled in his hand, and quickly redirected his gaze to the women in front of him, opening his mouth to apologize.

    Only for her to beat him to it. ¡°General Achilles, I presume?¡± she asked with a perfectly arched brow.

    Despite the surprise of the whole encounter, it was nothing prepared to the chaos of war, and Achillies quickly recovered himself. ¡°Please, just Achilles. I¡¯m but a simple soldier, Lady¡­¡± he trailed off, unsure how to address her.

    ¡°Helena.¡±

    ¡°Lady Helena, it is a pleasure to meet you. Please forgive me for my reaction. You¡­ startled me.¡±

    She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. ¡°Tell me, what could plunge a decorated general such as yourself into such deep thought.¡±

    Achilles flushed, struggling to gather his thoughts. ¡°Well, Lady Hel-¡±

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    ¡°Just Helena, please.¡±

    ¡°Well, Helena, I was just¡± he struggled to find the words, ¡°...contemplating.¡±

    That smile still danced at her lips. ¡°Contemplating what?¡±

    The brief struggle of whether or not to tell her was quickly ended by that smile. ¡°About¡­ all of this.¡± he indicted the room. ¡°It''s just¡­ There was a time when such wonders were common. Now¡­ These are among that last left. And for what?¡±

    She was silent for a second. ¡°Pretty deep thoughts for a simple soldier.¡±

    Achilles flushed once more, unsure what it was about this women that put him so off balance.

    Still, he forged ahead, and began to explain, slowly letting loose a side of himself he had kept largely contained since childhood.

    Since his mother had died.

    When he learned idealism had no place in this cruel world.

    And dreamers were only crushed underfoot.

    Without him noticing, hours slipped by the hall growing progressively quieter as more drunken kings were dragged off to their sleeping quarters.

    ¡°Let''s go outside,¡± Helena said, her olive cheeks lightly flushed from the hours of discussion and steady flow of wine. She grabbed his hand. ¡°Come on.¡±

    He let himself be pulled forward, the dark entrance to the garden growing larger by the second. Just before they passed under the carved arch, a voice stopped them.

    ¡°Helena!¡± it yelled, a slight slur audible in its clarity.

    They turned around and found a young man, around their age walking towards them, flanked by four other young men. He was tall and fit, like Achillies, but that''s where the similarities ended.

    His skin was a pale white, looking like it had never seen the light of day, completely opposed to Achilles deep tan complexion, earned from many days in the sun. His golden hair opposed Achilies¡¯ brown and his blue eyes contrasted Achilles'' hazel.

    Achilles noticed Helena stiffening at the sight of the man, and instinctively positioned himself between them, noticing her small sigh of relief as he did so. Unfortunately, she wasn''t the only one that noticed.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± The young man questioned angrily, ¡°And what are you doing with Helena?¡±

    ¡°I am Ac-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t care. Move.¡±

    Achilles frowned, and prepared for a fight as he noticed the young man friend fanning out behind him. It didn''t even occur to him to move. He relaxed as he noticed they were the only ones left in the chambers.

    ¡°What are you relaxing about?¡± the leader sneered.

    Achilles said nothing.

    The man¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Move, or I will move you.¡±

    Achilles didn''t move.

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    The man struck in an instant, moving with impressive grace despite his visible drunkenness. It was clear he knew how to fight very well.

    But knowing how to fight and being able to fight are two very different things.

    Achilles reached deep into himself, and summoned the principle that had become the foundation of his being, the truth he had learned so long ago.

    Life was a thousand sword cuts, coming down from all angles, all places.

    There was no running, no hiding, no avoiding it.

    One could only bear it.

    And to bear it one had to be something more.

    Had to be

    Invincible.

    The young man bounced off Achilles like he had run into a wall. He looked at his broken wrist in shock. Then Achillies stuck, so fast it was nothing but a blur, and the man lay unconscious on the floor.

    He fixed the rest with a level glare. A general''s glare. ¡°Anyone else want to try?¡±

    They fled as fast as they could, barely stopping to grab their friends'' unconscious body.

    Helena grabbed his hand, and led him into the garden. Silently, they traversed its many paths, finally finding a spot tucked under a great oak. The second they sat down, she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

    Achilles looked at her in surprise, not used to her so openly showing her emotions. The stars shone overhead like a thousand tiny lamps, the bits that filtered through the great oak¡¯s canopy dancing upon her joyous visage, appearing to be stars in their own right.

    He couldn''t take his eyes off her.

    ¡®I can¡¯t believe you did that!¡± she finally managed to say.

    ¡°Who¡­ who was that?¡± Achilles questioned hesitantly, somewhat afraid to finger out the answer.

    She smiled, her teeth shining in the starlight. ¡°That was Hector, prince of Amaj.¡±

    She burst out laughing again at his struck expression, and after a long minute finally managed to reassure him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. He knows it''s his fault. And he''s far too prideful to admit what happened. You''re safe.¡±

    Achilles let out a sigh of relief. Amaj was one of the most powerful kingdoms, and if it took issue with his, it could go very badly for him.

    ¡°But¡­ Why was he looking for you?¡±

    Helena froze up like a tear in torchlight, her good cheer abruptly lost, and Achillies immediately started frantically backtracking.

    ¡°I mean, if you don¡¯t want to say, that''s fine-¡±

    ¡°No. You deserve to know.¡±

    She sighed and turned to him, and he idly found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips before her next words abruptly brought him back to reality.

    ¡°He¡¯s my fiance.¡±

    He stared at her in shock, struggling to deal with the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. Shock, betrayal, hurt, anger, lust and a thousand others bloomed in him violently, and he wondered in shock why he was reacting so strongly.

    Finally, he managed to choke out a heartbroken ¡°oh¡±

    Helena sighed once more, and brought up a hand, reaching for his cheek before pulling back. ¡°I don¡¯t want to. He¡¯s a terrible man. But my father insists. And there have been¡­ threats. Against my sisters.¡±

    Achilles felt a surge of rage burn through him, like a newborn star.

    ¡°I¡­¡± he started, then stopped. He couldn''t think of anything to say.

    Suddenly, she turned to him. ¡°I envy you.¡± she said abruptly. ¡°You are free to do as you wish. Free to go where you want, and free to love who you want.¡±

    It was his turn to sigh. ¡°It''s not nearly so simple. I have chains as well, same as you. Just different.¡± he idly reached down to grab a nearby flower, twirling it in his hand. ¡°I wasn''t born to power like you. I was born a peasant. Frequently starving, always desperate. But I was a dreamer. I heard stories of the earlier days, when nobody starved and everyone was happy. When ideas of truth and love trumped the mere facts of reality. And I wanted to bring it back.¡± he sighed. ¡°How naive I was. So I ran amuck in the streets, refusing to work, preaching of days long past.¡± he paused. ¡°Then my mother got sick. And in the end, my dreams didn''t save her.¡±

    Helena reached out for him gently, taking him in her arms. ¡°I burned them that very day. My dreams. And I took up the instruments of war. Life was already a war I thought, how much worse could war be? I discovered I was good at it, and I rapidly rose up the ranks. And yet¡­ I merely fight for survival, and with every blade I swing, every city I conquer, I feel another part of that dream withering away, locked in the deepest recesses of my heart.¡±

    Tears quietly fell from his eyes as he looked at his calloused hands. ¡°These are not the hands of a dreamer.¡±

    Abruptly, he realized what had happened, and quickly shrugged Helena off, quickly rubbing the tears from his eyes, wondering how she had gotten past his guard so quickly.

    He considered drawing on his path for protection, but decided against it.

    Whatever was going on here was too valuable to stop.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn''t mean to make it about me.¡±

    ¡°No, it''s¡­ its¡­'''' she threw her hand up. ¡°I don''t know what it is, but I am honored you shared with me. I just¡­ I just¡­ I just want to choose for myself. I just want to be free.¡±

    Achilles swallowed. ¡°Me too. Me too.¡±

    For a while they just sat in silence, basking in each other¡¯s company.

    Then Helena turned to him, a shy smile on her face. ¡°Well there is one thing we can do.¡±

    ¡°Wha-¡±

    Her lips silenced his. For a moment, there was bliss, pure bliss, then reluctantly Achilles drew back. ¡°What about your fiance?¡±

    Her face fell. ¡°I just¡­ I just want to choose one thing for myself before being condemned to a life of doing as others wish.¡±

    ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°Please, Achilles. You are like nobody I¡¯ve ever met before. I just want one night with you. One night as myself. One night with someone I love. Please I ju-¡±

    This time it was his lips that silenced hers.

    They didn¡¯t talk for the rest of the night.

 18.2 - Home

    When the early rays of dawn woke Achilles, filtering through the branches of the oak like a million tiny spears of light, he was alone.

    A thrill shot through him as he remembered the night before. Soft lips against his, gentle hands touching him all over, the stars illuminating the many folds of her dress as she lifted it over her head. He snapped back to reality, blushing, feeling like his age for the first time since his mother died.

    Then reality struck, and he was once more the grizzled general.

    She was betrothed to another. What had happened last night alone was grounds for war, the insult more than any of the stuck up aristocrats could. To push it further was to ensure such a war happened.

    And yet¡­ Achilles remembered the stories of a time when it didn''t matter. Stories of a time when men did things not merely for survival, but because they felt right. Because they were true. He had once believed in them, and though that child was long dead, for a second last night, Achillies thought he had seen its shadow.

    He slowly rose to his feet, got dressed and began to make his way out of the garden, his mind whirling with thoughts and emotions. Illuminated in dawn''s light, the garden was even more magnificence than ever, but without Helena at his side, it was but a pale shadow of its starry compatriot.

    He made his way into the great hall, and managed to corner one of the servants.

    ¡°May I inquire about the wearabout of Lady Helena?¡± he asked, trying to sound as formal as possible.

    ¡°Lady Helena of Ryiah?¡±

    Achilles nodded, wondering how she had managed to hide her origins from him, even in their moment of deepest intimacy. Ryiah was another of the mightiest city-states, and its union with Amaj was a cause for great concern.

    Still, he didn''t particularly care. He just wanted to see her once more.

    ¡°She departed this morning with the delegation from Amaj. Apparently she is engaged to their crown prince. The announcement caused quite the stir this morning.¡±

    He froze, and briefly closed his eyes in frustration.

    It wasn''t till the servants trembling ¡°sir?¡± that he realized he had lost control of his aura, and quickly reigned it in.

    Embarrassed and angry, he grabbed a bit of bread and headed back to his room.

    His delegation was supposed to leave early in the morning, and judging by the amount of light filtering through the windows, he was late.

    Sure enough, a few minutes later, he emerged from the stables with his small bag of belongings to find the delegation from Mystria already saddled and ready to go. Most of them shot him dirty looks as he passed, scorn plainly visible on his face, but a few, his soldiers, looked at him with worry until he waved he was fine. At the head of the procession, Diognes, the reigning king of Mystria looked upon Achilles with a neutral expression.

    He was a powerful looking man, with curly brown hair and a strong jaw, no more than a decade Achillies senior. Under his gaze most would have found themselves wilting, but not Achilles. He simply saddled up his horse, and hopped upon its back.

    ¡°Achilles¡± Diognes finally denied to speak, ¡°What was the cause of your delay?¡±

    Achilles didn''t even bother to look at him. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    There were a few light gasps at his breach of decorum, but Achillies couldn''t care less.

    Everyone knew how Diognes had gotten his throne anyways.

    Diognes said nothing, and they rode off into the morning sun together.

    Towards home.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    The first night, all anyone could talk about was the marriage of Helena and Hector and the political ramifications of Ryiah and Amaj joining forces. Together, they said, they stand a chance against the rest of the city-states.

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    Achilles listened with half an ear, catching the scraps of conversation from their fire a few dozen feet away, absentmindedly drawing lines through his fire with a stick while his men beside him joked and laughed. Although he technically had the standing to sit with the aristocrats he much preferred the company of his men.

    But tonight, the only thought in his head was of Helena. Of her witty words, her flawless skin, but mostly of her fierce spirit, burning to be free. He wondered what she was feeling right now, forced to travel back to Amaj alongside Hector.

    It filled him with rage, but also a profound sense of sadness.

    He let out a low sigh.

    His captain, beside him, finally grew sick of his mopping and punched him on the arm.

    ¡°C¡¯mon Achil, what''s wrong? You were late, and you¡¯ve been moping all day.¡±

    The other men quickly chimed in the agreement and turned to Achilles. He looked at the dozen men beside him, his captains and commanders, chosen as the honor guard for this event. They were men he had fought beside many times, men he would trust his life with.

    He told them.

    It came spilling out like a flood, and his men upon realizing the seriousness of the topic, immediately shielded the conversation from the aristocrats with a new load of sap filled wood in the fire, and settled down, focusing on him with attentiveness that would have reduced a lesser man to a gibbering wreck.

    He told them of how he met here, of her witty words and deep insights. Of her flawless figure and flowing hair. He told them of their night under the tree, and the connection he could feel forming between them. And he told them how she was engaged, and gone.

    Of how she so desired to be free, and how he desired it too.

    When he was done, his men were silent for a long moment.

    Then, Petrol, one of his most trusted captains spoke. ¡°Well, shit.¡±

    Immediately, the rest erupted into exclamations and the familiar energy brought a brief smile to Achilles face.

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± Petrol yelled, and the rest quieted down. ¡°Ok, so what¡¯s the plan?¡± he asked Achilles.

    ¡°What plan?¡±

    ¡°The plan to get her back, obviously.¡±

    Achilles just stared at him.

    ¡°What, you¡¯re just going to give up? I say we ambush the Amaj convoy and bust her out.¡±

    ¡°They threatened her sisters. Her own family. They¡¯re holding her sisters hostage to make sure she goes through with it.¡±

    Petrol winced. ¡°That makes things a bit more difficult.¡±

    He lapsed into a thoughtful silence and for a few minutes, nothing beside the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the aristocrats'' conversation audible.

    It was one of the younger officers that finally broke the silence. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just¡­ officially make an offer for her hand. I mean, if the general doesn¡¯t qualify, who does?¡±

    Petrol was on his feet in an instant. ¡°That¡¯s brilliant. I¡¯ll draft a proposal right now!¡±

    ¡°What about the king?¡± someone asked.

    Petrol waved a hand dismissively. ¡°This is for the good of the kingdom. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll agree.¡±

    ¡°Petrol¡± Achilles finally found his voice. ¡°This is dangerous. I can¡¯t in good consciousness let you risk your life for this. I-¡±

    ¡°General¡± Petrol interrupted. ¡°We owe you everything. Our lives. Our families. And we have watched for years as everyone and everything tries to push you down, even as you endure for us, even as you shield us. You bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. It''s all we can do is prevent that burden from growing.¡±

    Achilles found himself nodding, a spark of hope flaring within himself.

    Petrol brightened, and with a salute got to his feet and turned to go.

    ¡°Petrol?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Another salute and he was gone.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    The next night, after having drafted a proposal and gotten it reviewed by every soldier currently with them, Petrol took off. The aristocrats didn''t even notice he was gone.

    The rest of the journey home was normal, and with Petrol assurances, Achilles was able to return to his normal routine. Just that spark of anxiety and hope burned within him, bringing back a hint of light he had thought long lost.

    On the seventh day, they arrived. Looking at Mystria filled Achilles'' heart with joy. It was a squat city, home to slightly over 30,000, with simple thick walls, surrounded by a sprawl of farmland and small towns under its protection.

    At the gates, they split, the aristocrats going to their castles, and Achilles and his met heading west to their encampment. The men cheered and yelled as they entered, and were met with a storm of affectionate cursing from their officers.

    Achilles smiled and took a deep breath.

    The air smelled of sweat and iron.

    He was home.

 18.3 - A Good Mans End

    The next week passed quickly, lost in the daily routine of a soldier. The endless monotony of eating a training, broken only by the sharp laughter and good cheer of his men.

    By now, the word had spread, and soldiers flocked to Achilles in droves to congratulate him, sure of Petrol¡¯s success. The show of support warmed Achilles, making the world brighter for an instant before a familiar weight batted it down.

    Being with Helena had awakened something within him, and the shadow of a long dead child haunted his dreams, demanding him to repent for what he had done, scorning him for what he had become. For the dreams he had cast aside. He fought back of course, lashing them with rhetoric and arguments, but he was quickly flagging, wondering if the shadow was right.

    It was a hard truth to face, admitting he had been wrong for so long, but with the promise of Helena¡¯s return, he felt like he could face it, if only for her.

    The next day, it happened. A messenger appeared, carrying a small wooden trunk. He claimed to be from Amaj. Immediately, his men assembled the grand tent used for parleys, and decked Achilles in a set of ceremonial armor, bronze carved with pictographs of men slaying monsters. When the messenger entered the tent, he found the full attention of Achilles and all his senior officers, decked in full war regalia, focused on him. It was an intimidating sight, and to the messenger''s credit, he only trembled slightly before setting down the chest, and with a shaky motion, popped it open.

    Petrol¡¯s severed head lay within.

    ¡°Hector, Prince of Amaj, sends his regards.¡±

    The world froze as Achlles gazed upon the severed head of the man that had fought with him since the beginning, the man he considered a brother. The man he had killed with his selfishness. The dreamer was smote underfoot by reality''s brutal reminder, and Achilles retreated within himself, donning the persona of the cruel general he had been forced to become.

    It took significant effort not to smote the poor messenger on the spot, but even in the depths of his cruelty, Achilles couldn''t quite shake the compassion that had once defined him.

    ¡°Leave¡± he whispered, his voice at once devastatingly quiet and earth-shatteringly loud.

    The messenger practically ran out of the tent.

    Achilles got to his feet, toppling the throne he had been lounging on. As he approached the chest, he shed layers of his armor, until finally, right before it, he wore nothing but a simple wool tunic and trousers. With reverent care, he gently lifted Petrol¡¯s head from the chest, unheeding of the tried blood that crusted it. He held out a hand and was met with a wet cloth. Slowly and gently he washed his brother''s face, watching the once white cloth turn red.

    When he was done, he cast the cloth aside and left the tent, his officers forming a silent procession around him. The rest of his men, warned of what had happened, formed a path, guarding either side. They saluted Petrol¡¯s head as he passed.

    As Achilles¡¯ right hand man, he had been well loved.

    When they reached the end, a funeral pyre had already been prepared, burning in a massive conflagration. The rest of the procession stopped, but Achilles continued forward, walking into the flames themselves. It was a strain, invoking his invincibility to defend against flame itself, especially since he had to protect Petrol¡¯s head as well, but he endured, climbing the mountain of burning wood, even as his clothes burned and the end of his hair curled.

    When he reached the top, he paused, turning to look at the crowd of silent men watching him. His gaze swept over them, seeming to meet the eyes of every single man, communicating what could not be said, before once more resting upon Petrol¡¯s head. With deliberate care, Achilles closed his eyes, and with a final kiss upon his forehead, placed him at the zenith of the massive funeral pyre.

    Then, without looking back, he walked out of the fire and headed to his tent.

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    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------

    Hour later, as he finished the last of the logistical reports, Achilles was interrupted by a head poking through the tent flap. It was Gaius, another of his trusted captains. ¡°General!¡± he saluted, his curly golden hair bouncing as he whipped a salute over his green eyes.

    ¡°At ease. What is it?¡±

    ¡°The troops are ready to march.¡±

    Achilles looked up, a frown on his face. ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°Amaj.¡±

    ¡°We aren''t going to Amaj. Losing Petrol was a blow, but I will not let anymore of my men die in a pointless struggle for revenge.¡±

    ¡°If not revenge, then love. We can finish what Petrol started. Make it so his death was not in vain.¡±

    Achilles sighed. ¡°Gaius, it''s over. It¡¯s not worth it. I will not lead my men to their deaths.¡±

    Gaius¡¯ eyes were burning. ¡°My general, we cannot just give up!¡±

    ¡°And yet we must, if we want to live another month.¡±

    ¡°And what if we don¡¯t? What if we are sick of trampling our desires underfoot, in favor of survival? What if we want to live instead of just surviving? Some of the men remember you when you were younger. Even as a child, you inspired us, encouraging us to seek out our dreams, instead of just bending to reality. Follow your own teachings!¡±

    Achilles reached up to message his temples. ¡°That child is long dead. Now-¡±

    ¡°No¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You may tell yourself that, but we know better. We have seen you sacrifice time and time again to protect us. We have seen you put your life on the line for the lowest of us. We have seen you walk through fire to put us to rest. We know the flame of passion burning within you, no matter how well you think you hide them. We know the dreams contained within, waiting to be freed. Why must you deny yourself like this?¡±

    Achilles rose to his feet, his voice rising. ¡°Because Gaius, those dreams will lead us to ruin, to death!¡±

    ¡°Then will it not be a death well earned!?¡±

    ¡°I cannot chose such a path for my me-¡±

    ¡°Then let us choose! We owe you our lives a dozen times over. We too feel the weight of these everlasting pointless wars! So for once, let us choose what we fight for!¡±

    Gaius stopped, panting heavily.

    Achilles was silent, shocked. Choice¡­

    ¡°Please,¡± Gaius begged, ¡°For once, let us fight for something we believe in.¡±

    He remembered Helena¡¯s words. I just want to choose for myself.

    He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the weight settling upon his shoulders, and at the very same time a heat flaring within his chest. ¡°Very well.¡± He walked up to Gaius. ¡°And thank you.¡±

    He opened the tent flap to reveal rows of soldiers lined up in front of it, their armor gleaming in the sun. He looked over them, wondering how he had managed to inspire such dedication and loyalty in them. There was so much to say, so much so that he didn¡¯t even know if it was possible for words to express it.

    So he didn''t use words.

    He tilted his head to the sun, letting it soak into his skin as he drew a deep breath.

    Then, with a roar that seemed to shake the ground, he drew his blade and thrust it into the sky, as if to pierce the firmament of heaven itself.

    His men answered as one, and their roar truly did shake the ground.

    For a long minute, they held their voices loud enough to rouse the dead, before the roar petered off and silence once more beheld the camp.

    For another long moment, he looked over them, converting everything he wanted to say through a glance. Then with a nod and a wave, the men began to prepare.

    They would leave in the morning.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------

    The march was long and boring, but Achilles could feel a heat burning within him, growing with every step. His aura grew, his momentum surging.

    In the shadows, a long dead hand reached out.

    And Achilles took it.

 18.4 - Reunion

    Amaj¡¯s walls were dark and quiet, the starry darkness broken by the occasional torch. Achilles sneered at that. Amaj had grown lax in its power. He was alone in the dark, his army still several days back.

    Achilles had resigned himself to war, but he wanted to try one more thing before surrendering to its necessity. He wanted to see if he could steal Helena from the very cradle of their enemies.

    Black cloth covered every hint of his body, melding him with the moonless night. He crept forward carefully, slowly so as not to alert the careless sentries. It only took a few minutes, and he was there, leaning against the massive wall. He craned his neck back, taking a second to admire the wall. It was nearly forty feet tall, and unlike Mystria, it enveloped the entire city of Amaj. Still, its tough stone composition made it possible to climb, if only.

    With a deliberate movement, Achilles reached out and grasped one of the stones that composed it, and after giving it a tug to check if it was stable, hoisted himself up. He did the same with his other hand, then his foot, then his other foot. Soon he was scaling the wall like a monkey, moving so fast it was like he was casually strolling up it. Finally, he reached the top, and after taking a moment to check it was clear, he rolled over that parapet and onto the long walkway.

    He risked a glance over the other side, finally getting a glimpse of Amaj proper. Most of the city was shrouded in darkness, but on structure stood out, illuminated by an absurd amount of torches. The royal palace loomed tall, with elegantly twisted spires and an open-columns construction. It was composed of layers upon layers, giving it a slightly pyramidal air.

    That was his goal.

    Achilles cursed under his breath upon hearing the sleepy footsteps of another guard heading his way. After a quick glance to make sure he was clear, he silently rolled off the inner parapet, and fell forty feet to land in a crouch. He winced. That had hurt even him.

    Then he was off, quietly running through the streets in the direction of the palace, nothing more than a black blur in the night. As he ran, he found himself idly wondering how Helena would react upon seeing him. Would she rejoice? Would she be mad at him for risking himself? Would she stay? Would she come with him? Questions swirled in his mind, and it was only upon taking a wrong turn that he dragged himself out of his daydreams and reminded himself that he had to find her first.

    A few minutes later he arrived at the fabled palace of Amaj, a wonder of stacked layers and twisting spires, lit by flickering torchlight. The guards here were much more alert, but they still couldn''t stop Achilles. He quickly found a servant''s passage and waited at it till a servant emerged. He then knocked out the man and stole his clothes.

    In the servant''s clothes, he quietly made his way through the halls, head down, following the smell of roasting meat. The halls were a confusing mess of dead ends and turns, decorated in lavish tapestries and art. Achilles'' heart bled for their fate, especially if he failed to rescue Helena without war, but he no longer cared as much.

    He had a greater purpose now.

    Finally, he arrived at the kitchen, which even at this hour was bustling with servants and cooks. A few minutes of observation showed servants simply going up to the cooks and asking for food, which they then put on a silver tray and whisked away.

    Achilles, heart pounding, decided it was time, and went up to one of the cooks.

    ¡°Hello ma''am, Lady Helena has requested a lentil soup.¡±

    She, a heavyset woman, with streaks of gray in her black hair, looked at him suspiciously. ¡°Are you new here? I¡¯ve never seen you before.¡±

    ¡°Yes I am.¡± Achilles replied, trying to sound as confident as he could. ¡°I was hired yesterday.¡±

    She looked at him suspiciously for another second, then, abruptly her face softened. ¡°Right, I¡¯m sorry. It''s just been a tense few weeks. Thank you for bringing the soup to Lady Helena. Lord knows that poor girl needs it.¡±

    She turned and fetched the soup, placing it on his outstretched tray.

    ¡°One more thing¡± he asked before she could turn away. ¡°How do I get to Lady Helena¡¯s apartment? The halls are still confusing to me.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°They¡¯re confusing to everyone, boy.¡± Then she rattled off a list of directions Achilles hoped he would remember. He thanked her and set off.

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    The halls were confusing as ever, even with the cooks directions, but he eventually found himself in front of a door, thankfully unguarded, and with a moment of hesitation, knocked.

    There was a moment of silence. Then a ¡°enter¡± reached his ears.

    He froze. It was her voice.

    With a deep breath, he pushed open the door, finding himself in a small sitting room.

    ¡°Leave it on the table, please.¡±

    He set the soup down, taking in the room. It seemed that Hector had spared her no comfort. Finally, he could distract himself no more.

    ¡°Helena?¡± he called softly.

    Silence, then the sound of something dropping to the ground.

    ¡°Achilles?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Helena, it''s me. I just-¡±

    He was interrupted as her form burst out of the bedroom doorway, hitting him so hard he had to call upon his invincibility to stay on his feet. She buried her face in his chest, her curly black hair brushing the underside of his chin. He realized she was shaking softly.

    He drew back, tilted her chin up to bring her tear stained eyes to his. ¡°It''s ok, I''m here.¡±

    She let out another tear stained sob and surged back into his arms with new ferocity. Gently, he swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed, and laying beside her when she refused to let go. It was a soft bed.

    Finally, after what felt like hours of crying, she finally calmed enough to remove her face from his chest and meet his eyes. ¡°I love you. I¡­I didn¡¯t realize till you were gone, but I love you. And¡­ and I''m sorry about your man. I didn''t want him to die. And¡­  and Hector is so much worse than I thought. I thought I could do this but¡­ but I don''t know!¡± She was breathing hard at the end, and Achilles quickly reached out to stroke her hair. She melted into his touch, calming, and relaxing.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, my love. To help you escape.¡±

    She looked at him with hope in her eyes, before she seemed to remember something and the hope shriveled and died.

    ¡°I can''t,¡± she said hopelessly, ¡°They have my sisters, to be married off to other princes, and to be used against me. If I leave, they¡¯ll kill them. And¡­ they need to be stopped. Achilles you must stop them, or a tide of violence like nothing we¡¯ve ever seen before will sweep over the land.¡±

    He was silent for a minute, gently stroking her hair. ¡°Ok.¡±

    ¡°Ok?¡±

    ¡°Ok. I have my army with me. They won¡¯t be long for this world.¡±

    ¡°But war¡­ you hate war. I¡­ I-¡±

    ¡°I do hate war. But¡­ I¡¯ve realized that my avoidance stemmed from a desire to withdraw further. To give up that last of the dreamers and embrace the meaningless of it all. There are worse fates in this world than war.¡± he smiled at her. ¡°Like living without love. Like surviving without living. I am just now seeing that that is what defined the earlier ages. Not an aversion to war, but a realization of what truly matters. They fought for what they believed in, just in a¡­ different way. If I am to do the same, to bring the glory of bygone eras to this one, I must do the same.¡± he leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. ¡°Fight for what I believe in.¡±

    She smiled as he finished, a bit of her composure returning. ¡°Pretty deep thoughts for a simple soldier.¡±

    He snorted, noting for the first time that she was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown that left little to imagination.

    She smirked as she followed his gaze. ¡°Like what you see?¡± she purred.

    He quickly averted his gaze, blushing as he did so. ¡°Anyways, the important part is that I am willing to fight, and so are my men. Since I can''t bring you out tonight, we will begin our assault tomorrow.¡±

    She smiled and planted a kiss on his lips, then withdrew and sighed. ¡°What did I ever do to deserve a man like you?¡±

    He reached out and tilted her chin up. ¡°You were honest, and that honesty awakened a part of me I had thought long dead. You make me better, and you make me stronger. You give me a reason to fight, and you fight on my behalf. I love you, Helena of Ryiah, and I always will.¡±

    She was bright red by the end of the pronouncement, but she managed the words to reply in turn. ¡°And I love you because of the dreamer inside of you. The hope that dares what no one else will. The will that lets you stand steadfast against the weight of the world itself. I love you because you see things others don''t, and you dare to tread where others won''t. I love you Achilles of Mystria, and I always will.¡±

    They smiled at each other softly for a few minutes, just soaking in the pleasure of each other''s company. Then, with a sigh, Achilles began to get up.

    Helena cried out. ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°The longer I stay, my love, the more likely we get caught. I must go now.¡±

    She slid out of bed and hugged him fiercely. He hugged her back, just as fiercely. Until he felt her hand wandering where it shouldn''t go. He cried out and tried to pull back, only to find her grip iron. He looked down to see her smirking up at him, her violet eyes glittering with amusement.

    ¡°Surely you have a few minutes?¡±

    Before he even realized what had happened, he had crushed her to the nearest wall and was kissing her with a passion she returned just as fiercely.

    He didn''t leave for a while.

 18.5 - Blood

    Screams filled the air as Achilles spearheaded the charge, his men on either side, tapering off into the wedge shape. His spear was wheeling death, and its whistle struck fear into the eyes of any poor soldier unlucky enough to face him. Blood coated the ground, creating a red mud that stunk of iron and piss.

    As he felt the buckling lines begin to rally through sheer numbers alone, Achilles pushed harder, taking more and more of the burden upon himself as he invoked his path to its entirety, not only strengthening himself but also to bless his men. For them, it manifested as a strengthening in their armor, and the thickness of their skin, making them twice as hard to take down.

    For him, the effects were much greater.

    Glancing blows bounced off with not a mark to show for it, and the rare fatal blows Achilles allowed to land turned into mere scratches. Still, he pushed harder, urging his men to keep up in a bellowing voice, his gleaming chest plate and red-plumed helmet making him a prime target.

    A rain of arrows bloated out of the sky, focused on him. While the men beside him hunkered behind shields, he roared and spun his spear so fast it appeared a giant aegis, sending splinters of shattered arrows spinning in all directions. He used the brief moment of shocked silence to rally his men with another roar and press deeper into the enemy ranks.

    This general was the best of them yet, with the multi-ringed structure he had arranged his men in posing a serious challenge even to Achilles. His men were seriously pressed, even with his support. If they didn¡¯t slay this general soon, Achilles feared the war wouldn''t last much longer.

    The general, knowing this, positioned himself in a nearly unassailable position. Atop one of the battlements of the Great Wall of Amaj, a steady stream of colored flags waved, giving the Amajan army a steady stream of instructions on how to slowly corner and annihilate Achilles'' army.

    Achilles roared like a beast, and knowing this was his last chance, abandoned his men to jump up and sprint across the enemies'' helmets like a man sprinting over a raging sea. It was impossible, and yet he surfed that sea like the greatest of sailors, unheeding of the shocked cries.

    He managed to gain nearly fifty feet while they struggled to counter the unorthodox technique, before they finally wised up, retreating the back ranks twenty feet to create a gap in the middle of their formation, setting up an armored wedge bristling with spears in Achilles¡¯ way. Achilles only sped up as soon as he landed in the clearing, his sudden burst of speed allowing him to dodge a few spears. His face was set in resolute stone, but his eyes, to those that could catch a glimpse of them, blazed like newborn stars.

    He reminded me of another once-young man in that moment, one long gone.

    With impossible speed, he arrived at the bristling wedge, and then in a single deft movement extended his long spear through the forest of their spears and wedged it in the ground right in front of them.

    Then with a mighty heave, he vaulted himself into the air.

    Time itself seemed to slow as Achilles twisted in the air, pulling his spear up and using the momentum to spin in the air.

    In a single moment, he saw everything in perfect clarity. The enemies looked at him in terror, like he was a demon descended to punish them. His men looked at him in awe as he soared through the air like a bird. The sun blazed as bright as ever, shining through a cloudless azure sky, warming his face, its purity a contrast to the red strained dirt. Dirt and dust extended in front of the city for as far as he could see, and for a second Achilles swore he could see a glimpse of the sea over Amaj¡¯s mighty walls.

    But mostly, he just saw the enemy commander, his handsome face once filled with proud disdain, slowly morphing into fear as he met Achilles¡¯ eyes. He started to retreat, his hand going to the sword at his waist.

    Too late.

    With a mighty roar, Achilles channeled everything into his spear, his momentum, his will, his love, but mostly his path. It left his hand in a blur, and a small vapor cone formed along its head.

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    Where fear had once inhabited the commander''s eyes, terror replaced it as he saw the spear speeding at him. He swept his sword up in a desperate parry.

    He was too late.

    The spear crossed the hundreds of feet separating them in an instant and took his head off.

    Achilles landed, weaponless, and thrust a fist in the air.

    For a moment, there was silence. Then the world erupted into noise as Achilles'' men threw back their heads, shouted battle cries, and rushed into the now disorganized Amajan troops to rescue their generals.

    Achilles kicked up a discarded spear and joined them.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    That night, the mood was joyous, with the sound of laughter and good cheer ringing throughout their camp, about a mile from Amaj¡¯s wall, situated in a thick grove.

    The mood at the officers'' fire was much more subdued, but still, even they celebrated the day''s victory. Achilles sighed as he saw some of them throw reverent gazes at him.

    He had always been respected and admired by his men, but the last week at war had contributed more to his reputation than the rest of his achievements combined. At least the officers kept to mere reverence. Some of the common soldiers were starting to call him a demigod, a direct descendant of the gods of old. And his actions hadn''t exactly done anything to disprove it.

    After all, shrugging off fatal blows and fighting through entire armies were not feats typically attributed to mere men.

    Still, Achilles could see the trend of the overall war, and it wasn''t looking good. Amaj just had too many men, and their walls were too strong. Even Achilles couldn''t counter absolute advantages like that. They had already lost a full tenth of their men and hadn''t even made a dent in Amaj¡¯s army. But that didn''t mean that all was lost.

    ¡°Officers,¡± he started. ¡°We need to consider another way.¡±

    They immediately snapped to attention, looking at him in surprise. For a moment, nothing could be heard but faint laughter and the crackling of the fire. Finally, Gaius spoke, ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Our scouts have found a sewer tunnel leading into the city by the far cliffs. I suggest I lead an expedition of the Bronze Spears through the tunnel at night, and sow chaos, while you scale the walls under the cover of darkness and take the city.¡±

    Many of the younger officers visibly recoiled at the suggestion, one even going so far as to speak up. ¡°But general! The dishonor! Attacking at night! Sneaking men through sewers! How could we?¡±

    ¡°And who said that?¡± Achilles asked. ¡°Who said minimizing casualties is dishonorable? Who said sparing innocents from an extended siege is dishonorable? Who said victory is dishonorable?¡±

    The officer looked down, defiance still burning in his eyes, and when Achilles looked around, he saw that many agreed with him.

    He sighed. ¡°I do not fight for honor. I never have. I once fought to stay alive. Then I fought to keep my man alive. Then I fought to protect my people. Now I fight for love. But I never fought for honor. Do you know why?¡±

    He looked around, taking in the confused expressions.

    ¡°Because honor is the tool of snakes. A lie to get good men to reveal their soft necks. The lie which they persuade men to die for. It is the lie that has provoked war after pointless war, ridding the earth of the peace it once resided in. If you are fighting for honor, there is no honor to be found. True honor is found in fighting for something greater than oneself. In fighting for one''s comrade, In fighting for what''s right, But never in fight for honor itself.¡±

    He stood up.

    ¡°The love of my life is being held captive in that city. Is it honorable to make her wait, forcing my men to die for principles the enemy would abandon in a heartbeat if it suits them? Is it honorable to slay scores more of innocent men, brainwashed and pressed into battle by a power greater than them?¡±

    He met every one of their eyes.

    ¡°No, it is not. I once dreamed of a past era, when truth was upheld as the highest of ideals. This is the path to realizing it, banishing the lies they have spoken over us for so long. It is in understanding that true honor is in doing the right thing, rather than following what has been enshrined in the ideals of the rich and powerful.¡±

    He sat down once more and sighed.

    ¡°Would any of you consider me dishonorable?¡±

    He was met with a series of resounding nos.

    ¡°Then trust in me, as your general, to lead you to victory.¡±

    One by one, they started to nod thoroughly, even the young man who had originally objected to the plan.

    ¡°Good. We attack tomorrow night.¡±

 18.6 - Subterfuge

    The Bronze Spears were Achilles'' strike team, composed of only the strongest and most skillful soldiers in the army. He doubted any of them had expected to wade through literal shit, but they took it without complaint.

    The air smelled of waste and disease, unidentifiable muck sloshing against their shins and splashing their armor. Achilles led the way through the pitch black, bearing it with the untouchability he bore most things with. The tunnel seemed to be miles long, and they had already walked for hours. He could see why the Amajans hadn''t bothered defending the tunnel.

    It was a death trap, and without Achilles¡¯ aura defending them, he suspected most would have already contracted some sort of horrible disease. As it was, Achilles was flagging. Defending so many men for so long was a tiring prospect, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the faint rays of flickering light ahead.

    Sure enough, it was torchlight flitting through an iron grate in the street. And Achilles cautiously poked his head through the grate to get his bearings.

    They were in the middle of random streets, but he was able to get a good view of the castle looming overhead. With only a faint idea of the correct direction, navigating the convoluted tunnels of the sewer system was difficult, but Achilles managed, and in only half an hour, they found themselves under a grate leading into a courtyard in the castle''s inner walls.

    In the sparse light, Achilles turned back to his men, his dimly glimmering eyes saying everything that needed to be said. They saluted in return and began unslinging their spears from cases on their backs.

    They knew their task.

    And they would not fail them.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    This time, when Achilles knocked on Helena¡¯s door, it was not dressed as a servant. The familiar ¡°come in¡± echoed through the door, and Achilles entered, calling her name softly as he did so.

    Predictably, she called him in and met him with a passionate kiss, recognizing him even in the flickering torchlight. Then she pulled back, wrinkling her nose. ¡°What''s that smell?¡±

    He waved her away. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    She looked doubtful for a second, but dropped it with a shrug. ¡°Anyways, what are you doing here? It''s dangerous.¡±

    He spun his spear and smirked at her. ¡°Getting you out of here.¡±

    She stepped back, her elation collapsing. ¡°Achilles, I told you, I can''t leave my sisters.¡±

    His smirk deepened, and he followed her retreat, feeling like a boy again as he brought his lips to her ear. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving them. Get dressed.¡±

    She pulled back, flushed, and shaking her head to clear it, looked at him skeptically for a second. He gazed back at her as openly as he could, holding nothing back. She shivered for a second, but decided to trust him, and retreated back into her room to gather her stuff.

    Not a minute later she was out, draped in a cloak, and together they left her room. As soon as the heavy wood door was opened, the faint echoes of combat were apparent, the clash of metal and the screams of the wounded alike.

    Helena looked at him with wide eyes. ¡°You took the city.¡±

    ¡°No quite¡± he replied, frowned as he tilted his head to take in the sounds. There should not have been this much sound, not so soon.

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    Something had gone wrong, and badly by the sound of it. Right on cue, the tolling of a massive bell began to ring through the halls, warning everyone in the palace of the enemy force.

    Achilles cursed, and made a snap decision, turning to Helena. ¡°We need to get to your sisters. Where are they?¡±

    Wordlessly, she began to run down the hall, and he followed. The halls were as confusing as ever, but Helena ran through them as if she had lived there her entire life, deftly dodging the ostentatious decorations. The sounds of war grew louder as they got closer, confirming Achilles fears.

    The Amajans had gotten to Helena¡¯s sisters first.

    As they rounded the next corner, Achilles barely managed to stop Helena from being skewered by a unit from the Bronze Spears. He snapped a glance over them, seeing the blood on their spears. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°The king had more guards than expected, General. One managed to get away and warn the rest.¡±

    ¡°Did you complete the mission?¡±

    ¡°Yes. the king will never wake again.¡±

    ¡°Good, and the prince?¡±

    ¡°We could not find him.¡±

    Achilles frowned, before shaking himself back to the present. That was a problem for later. ¡°Very well. I will handle that. You all must escort Lady Helena to the meeting spot. Protect her with your lives.¡±

    ¡°Yes. general!¡± the chorusing answer came.

    Helena started to protest, but Achilles silenced her with a finger.

    ¡°I don''t have time to argue, my love. My men fight and die even as I linger here. I swear upon my dream I will bring your sisters back. But I cannot do so if I need to protect you as well. So you need to go with my men. Can you do that?¡±

    Helena glared at him with fire he¡¯d never seen from her, making it clear he would pay for this later, but relented and gave an assenting nod. ¡°Tell them, ¡®sparks like rain¡¯ . They will listen.¡±

    Achilles didn''t wait another second, unsheathing his spear and sprinting in the direction of the sounds of fighting. The walls blurred around him, precious artifacts becoming nothing more than vague blurs as he hurled forth. When he finally arrived at the sounds of fighting, a unit of Amajan guards surrounding a small group of Bronze spears, they didn''t even have time to react before he struck them like a bull, scattering men and creating a opening for the spears to strike back, which they did with hoarse roars.

    A second later and it was over.

    Achilles nodded to the half-dozen wounded spears, and slipped through the door they had been fighting in front. A blur rushed at his face and he barely managed to duck, his eyes focusing in time to see a soldier struggling to pull a giant axe out of the door frame. Achilles felled him swifty, taking note of his bearing.

    He was in another lavish sitting room, complete with several reclining chairs and lit by flickering torches. He stepped over the body of the soldier, making his way further into the room. Immediately, he had to lean back to dodge a thrown dagger, watching as it flew out the door, and he turned to see another young woman, perhaps a year or two younger than him, stepping out from behind the couch, brandishing a knife at him with trembling hands. ¡°S..s..step no..no f..f..further.¡±

    She looked just like Helena, with her violet eyes and curly black hair.

    He set his spear down, showing his empty palms. ¡°I mean no harm. I¡¯m Helena¡¯s lover and I¡¯ve come to free you all.¡±

    She lowered the dagger slightly, but still looked wary. ¡°She told me to tell you, ¡®sparks like rain¡¯¡±

    She looked at him with wide eyes, but after a second relaxed. ¡°Brissa, come out. He¡¯s here to help.¡±

    Another girl, Brissa, came out from behind the couch, looking to be a mere teenager. She looked curious instead of scared. ¡°Did you really attack Amaj just for Helen-¡±

    The sound of a warning yell interrupted her, and Achilles¡¯ blood ran cold. He whirled around just in time to see beams of torchlight glint off a bronze spearhead, rushing right towards Brissa. He reacted on instinct, snatching the spear out of the air and hurling back the way it came.

    ¡°Hide! Quick!¡±

    He charged outside the room, spear ready to defend his men, only to find the last of them slowly sinking to the floor, half a dozen spears protruding from his broken armor. The rest of his squad was already on the ground.

    He scanned his surroundings, finding him surrounded by a semicircle of armored men, pinning him against the wall. Beyond the circle of torchlight, he could see occasional glimpses of more men. The ranks directly in front of him parted, letting a figure through.

    Hector cut a heroic figure in the uncertain light, his blond hair gleaming and blue eyes shining. ¡°I knew you would be here. Helena would never leave her sisters behind.¡±

    Achilles snarled at him.

    He smirked. ¡°Surprised to see me? You really thought I could leave the insult you gave me alone? No, you blemished my honor, and you stole my women.¡± His expression darkened, hand going to his hilt. ¡°For that you die.¡±

    He unsheathed the sword.

    ¡°Kill him.¡±

 18.7 - Last Stand

    There are moments that stretch to eternity, moments that define man. For Achilles, time slowed as the Amajans charged forth. In truth, if he wanted too, he could escape. They couldn''t stop him. But then Helena¡¯s sisters would be captured, and Helena would go with them.

    I swear upon my dreams he had said. But how much were his dreams worth? Were they worth his life? His childhood flashed before him, a time of dreams, when such an oath would have been everything to him. He saw his mother die before him, saw himself casting aside his dreams in favor of safer pursuits, but for the first time he wondered. Had he truly cast aside those dreams?

    Gaius had been right. He may be convinced those dreams were dead, and yet whenever he had had the opportunity, he had thrown himself back into danger for something other than himself. And here he was, facing down the most powerful city in the world for love.

    If his dreams were not worth it, what was?

    He stopped holding back.

    Life was a thousand blades, aiming to break the dreamer.

    But the dreamer would not break, would not stop.

    For he was

    Invincible.

    Instead of them meeting him, he met them, sending soldiers flying as he struck, spear whistling out its deadly rhythm. Their spears left but faint scratches on his skin, while he dealt out gaping wounds, filling the halls with the iron stench of blood.

    He fought like he never had before, putting it all on the line. And it was glorious.

    They came at him in waves, and in waves they died, their blades skating off of his skin, their curses falling on deaf ears, a mountain of corpses forming before him. He could feel his understanding of invincibility surging forth under the pressure, newfound understanding granting new depth and power to his moves.

    But he was flagging, the myriad of wounds and exhaustion catching up and holding him back. Slowly, and first, and then with increasing speed, he began to give up ground, till he found his back pressed against the door to the girls room.

    He had more unbroken skin than whole skin, and blood flowed from him like a river, taking his strength with it. Still, stood strong, his spear held high as he prepared to face the end of his path with dignity and defiance. He knew he wouldn''t survive the night, his wounds were far too serious, but it wasn''t too late for Helena¡¯s sisters.

    If he could only¡­

    ¡°Enough! Can¡¯t you useless peasants kill one man! I¡¯ll do it myself!¡±

    Hector marched through the blood towards Achilles, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He looked annoyed, as if the men he had lost were nothing more than mild inconveniences.

    He smirked when he saw Achilles state. ¡°Not so mighty now, are we?¡±

    Achilles merely raised his spear.

    Hector''s smirk widened, and he smoothly lunged forward, only to be deflected by a sweep of Achilles'' spear. He dodged Achilles¡¯ retaliation with sidestep and moved into Achilles¡¯ reach.

    There the fight began in earnest.

    Hector was an excellent fighter when he wasn''t drunk, and Achilles in his wounded state struggled to defend against him. Finally, with a sharp twist and roundhouse kick, Hector managed to disarm Achilles, transitioning into a smooth downward slash, only for Achilles to catch his after swing and wrench his blade out of his hand.

    Hector motioned for one of the soldiers to toss him a replacement blade, and received the blade without looking, leaving him the only one armed. He smirked as he rushed in once more. Achilles defended as best he could with his mere limbs, but Hector was careful, taking advantage of Achilles previous wounds to slowly bleed him out.

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    Finally, when Achilles¡¯ vision was fading in and out of black, his fabled invulnerability failed him and Hector, smelling blood, struck.

    This time Achilles was too slow.

    The sword pierced him right through the stomach, piercing his spine as it came out the other side. Immediately, Achilles fell to his knees, legs useless, vision wavering.

    Hector followed him to the ground, squatting in front of him and leaning forward to whisper in his ear. ¡°This is for the humiliation at the Council.¡±

    Achilles spat blood in his face. Hector¡¯s expression darkened and he grabbed Achilles by the neck and drove him further into blood covered ground, folding him over his kneeling legs in a series of sickening pops. He began to slowly choke Achilles, till his world narrowed to nothing more than the will to endure. His fingers scrambled through the puddles of blood for anything that could let him endure for even a second longer.

    He found it, and then as if by some miracle, Hector¡¯s grip loosened for a second, letting Achilles take in a desperate gasp of air, feeling strength fill his limbs.

    Then in a single smooth motion, he plunged the dagger he had found deep into Hector¡¯s neck. He stiffened, the light leaving his eyes. Achilles wasn''t stupid enough to leave an enemy alive to gloat. As Hector¡¯s body slowly slid off of him, he idly noted the dagger was the one Helana¡¯s sister had thrown at him.

    As he lay there, hovering on the brink of death he heard soldiers yelling and the sound of weapons clashing. He smiled as he heard Helena calling his name. Her sisters were safe.

    All went black.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------

    He woke up to tears. The world was foggy around him, but he could make out Helena¡¯s form kneeling over him, weeping. He tried to reach out, to caress her cheek, to comfort her, but his arm wouldn¡¯t move.

    He was dying, he realized, even as his last moment brought unprecedented clarity. The blurry shapes hovering over Helena resolved to Gaius and another of his captains, faces filled with grim acceptance. So they had succeeded in taking the city after all. He felt his men behind them, felt their awe at the hundreds of corpses he had left in his wake, felt their despair at his inevitable passing. He tried to say something, but his mouth wouldn''t move.

    He struggled for a moment longer, feeling himself become strangely light. He knew it was a sign of his impending demise, but all the same, in that loosening for mortal bounds, he found his voice.

    Everyone, he said in the voice of his soul, projecting outward for all to hear, Do not despair.

    She jumped, as did all of his men in the vicinity. ¡°Achilles?¡± she whispered.

    Yes, my love.

    Her tears fell faster. ¡°I¡­I¡­I don''t kno¡­I just¡­I¡¯m s-¡±

    Hush, my love. Do not mourn me, for I die as myself. He tried to smile, but once more his body failed him. He was dead, he realized with a start, his heart gone still. Only, his will kept his soul anchored, and even that was quickly slipping, his mortal sensibilities peeling away, leaving only the seed of divinity at his core.

    A golden sea loomed above.

    And my men, do not forget this. How love toppled the mightiest city in the world. How even now, I resist the call of the beyond with will alone. We are dreamers, and we are invincible.

    He felt more than heard their thunderous call of ¡°General!¡±, his ears too far gone to process such an immense sound.

    He felt Helena¡¯s sisters approach their sister, tears pouring down their faces. He reached out with a hand of essence, and brushed away the source of their tears, revealing the power hidden within them. He did the same to his men, and the same to Helena.

    We are dreamers, and we are invincible. He said once more.

    ¡°Achilles, please don''t leave me. I just¡­ I ju-¡±

    He stroked her soul with gentle hands. Do not despair, dreamer. So long as you and your ilk walk this wretched world, so do I.

    The last of mortal thought left his soul, leaving only his deepest truth enshrined in pure will. It reached out tendrils of power, touching everyone within its reach, marking them with its truth.

    We are dreamers, and we are invincible. Achilles the Invulnerable said for the last time.

    And then he was no more.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------------

    I still think of Achilles sometimes, of what he represented. He dared to dream in a time that slew all who dared do so, and he lived those dreams well.

    But it was his end that caught my attention the most.

    For he was one that burned brightly with the embers of divinity.

    And he fell to mortal blades all the same.

 19 - Ozymandius

    The era of humanity was beginning to gather momentum. Dozens of city-states quarreled around the rich, fertile area Adam had made his home.  Rich, prospering cities, or for some defenseless fat targets. Ozymandias Arelius, the First Emperor, saw leaderless cities, drowning in anarchy. He conquered them all, but fell in the end to the corrupting influence of power, a chilling reminder of the danger of the peak. He was put down like a mad dog by those he had once called friends and brothers. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I only hope I can avoid his fate.

    The rain poured down in fat, warm drops, dousing the land. Ozymandius trudged forward, the sleigh he dragged behind him smoothing gliding over the slick rocks. Lightning flashed, a nova of brilliant blue light, illuminating the gruesome contents on the sleigh: a woman''s body, withered and diseased. Ozymandius scanned the landscape, with dead red eyes, looking for the distinct eight pillars that marked his destination.

    When he failed to find them, he lowered his head and trudged on.

    Hours later, in another place, Ozymandius once more lifted his head, lightning striking just in time to make his eyes glow, and reveal the pillars before him. Pillars was a generous word to describe the small piles of rocks that marked the burial ground of his family.

    But to him they were pillars, looming larger than the sky itself.

    Silently, he made his way forward, and setting the sleigh down, unslung the shovel from over his shoulder. He attacked the rocky ground with a dull rage, too practiced to truly be born of passion. The rock gave way before him, the gentle rain carrying the mud away from his tanned skin as quickly as it could gather.

    His tears joined it, swept away in the cleansing rain.

    When he was done, he walked back over to the sleigh, and reverently lifted the body of his dead mother. He averted his eyes as he carried her over, unable to gaze upon her withered features.

    He still remembered when she had been beautiful.

    He slowly lowered her into the grave, right beside his eight dead brothers. He hoped they would reunite in the afterlife, if such a thing even existed. After taking a second to let the water wash her, he returned the extracted ground to its rightful palace, burying her.

    He carefully arranged another pile of rocks over her grave, this one taller than any that had come before.

    And then he was done.

    And then he was alone.

    He collapsed to his knees, the weight of reality finally striking him, as heavy as the mountain he stood upon. He reached deep inside, searching for the will to continue.

    And he found rage.

    ¡°Why her! She was so kind! All she wanted was to live! WHY COULDN''T SHE!¡±

    He forced himself to his knees. I wondered if he could see the world warping around him, giving way before his apocalyptic rage.

    ¡°WHY!?¡±

    He raged for hours, and when his rage finally gave out, he collapsed back to his knees once more. The world pushed down with redoubled force, and this time he had no rage to seek refuge in. He felt something break within him, the crack like the world breaking.

    Paths once hidden opened up before him, their possibilities leading deep into the uncertain future. But he only had eyes for one.

    When he looked back into the rain, his eyes were calm, but I shuddered at the spark I saw deep within them.

    ¡°Never again¡± he whispered, ¡°Nobody shall ever suffer again.¡±

    He basked in the gentle rains for hours, and when he opened his eyes, I felt his path solidify

    That was the birth of the Mad Emperor.

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    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------

    Ozymandias laughed, raising his glass in sync with the rest. He felt the warmth suffusing him, like fire in his veins.

    It was almost enough to drive back the chill of the void within.

    His comrades cheered, Brucet particularly loud among them, and the men below them joined in, their collective voices shaking the roof of their great hall, letting a few drops from the rainy night in. One landed on Ozymandias¡¯ cheek, its downward motion seized him and plunging his mind into depths best left untouched.

    Back to that night in the rain.

    He scrambled for his comrades¡¯ familiar warmth, and seizing it like a lifeline, pulled himself up. Visions passed by him on his ascent, the path that connected his orphaning and present.

    He saw his shivering form stumbling back into the city, devoid of all except the burning desire to change it. To ensure that no one would ever suffer like he had.

    In retrospect, his early actions had been sloppy and badly executed. Stealing royal funds to give back to the poor. Threatening rich doctors into treating the lowest of the low. He was lucky the embers of rebellion had found him before the king''s men.

    They had taught him the true root of the evil, of corrupt kings and fat nobles. They taught him the arts of war and command both, and when he was ready, he had taken the reins.

    And now here he was, at the festival of Twilight, preparing to strike the king down from his hallowed throne.

    Reality came roaring back like a flame, and Ozymandias shot to his feet, his sudden motion provoking a hush over the hall. Words poured out of his throat, a thousand sentiments tossed aside, leaving one left.

    ¡°When my mother died, the last of my blood, I kneeled in the rain. I screamed and I cried and I mourned. But it did not change the fact she was gone. That I was alone. And in her wake, I had one thought. Never again.¡±

    He panned his gaze over the hushed hall, feeling the echoed pain. He was far from the only one that had lost someone.

    ¡°Never again shall we lose loved ones to the greed of a callous king. Never again shall we kneel over their graves and weep. Never again shall we starve. Never again shall we be denied the service of a doctor. Never again shall we be called to kneel at the feet of lesser men. Never. Again.¡±

    He paused, letting his words sink in.

    ¡°They say that in rebellion we will find our ends. But I say, let the end come! For we are the end! The end of corruption! The end of poverty! The end of suffering itself! Come dawn, a new age will begin, a better age! A age of prosperity and equality and peace!¡±

    He grabbed his glass, raising it above his head.

    ¡°So, let us drink to that future! Let us drink to the end!.¡±

    He drank his entire glass in a single swallow and threw it aside, tilting his head back to let out a mighty roar.

    Lost in visions of glory and the void seemed tiny,

    And yet it persisted.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    The next morning, the day of the Eternal Sun, they stormed the royal palace with the sun at their backs. Ozymandias led from the front, his sword seeming to split into a dozen, butchering all that stood in his way. The throne room gave way to mighty kick, Ozymandias strode in, his frame burning with glory, concepts of war and rebellion making him into a god.

    The king cowered upon his throne, screaming shrilly at his soldiers to defend him, but Ozymandias waved them aside with a single hand.

    ¡°Who¡­ who are you?!¡± the king stuttered, ¡°what do you think you¡¯re doing?!¡±

    Ozymandias took a single step forward, the movement moving him halfway across the throne room and allowing his soldiers to swarm behind him.

    ¡°I am Ozymandias, the Will of the People, King of Peasants. And I have come to punish you for the crimes you have committed.¡±

    Another step took him right in front of the king, and seizing him by the hair, Ozymandias slowly dragged him down that richly carpeted floor, his men parting like water around him.

    By the time they reached their destination, a large open square in the city, it was packed with people trying to figure out what was going on.

    The murmuring gave way to shocked gasps as Ozymandias emerged, dragging the struggling king behind him.

    ¡°This man,¡± he intoned, ¡°has robbed us. Wronged us. Killed us. All while claiming it was for our own good. What should his fate be?¡±

    Shocked silence descended on the square, and not a soul dared to do as much as breathe. Then, like a vibrant spark born of cold steel, a little boy stepped forward, tears streaming down his face.

    ¡°They¡­ They killed my parents.¡± He swallowed. ¡°They should suffer the same fate.¡±

    Just like that, the dam broke, and the rest joined in calling for the king''s death. Ozymandias hauled the sobbing king to his knees in front of the crowd, and forced his chin up.

    ¡°Look at them!¡± he snarled. ¡°Those you have wronged, slain and starved! Do you have anything to say to them?!¡±

    The king only sobbed harder.

    Ozymandias hoisted him up and stared into the king''s eyes, illuminated by the flashes of madness in his own. The king, unable to withstand it, shut his eyes tight.

    Ozymandias scoffed, and threw him down. With an almost reverent grace, he drew his bronze blade and raised it to the sky.

    ¡°Death to false kings¡± he intoned.

    A sword carved a smooth arc through the azure sky, and the blood of kings watered the rocks.

    The start of a new era.

 19.2 - The Mad Emperor

    At first, It seemed like one city was enough for him. He lived up to his dreams. Even the lowliest of citizens was cared for. Even the sickest were healed. The people rejoiced at his rule. He served them faithfully and thoroughly. But soon he became aware of cities beyond his own, and their unprotected citizens. Corruption was not an isolated problem. For months he debated what to do. I watched when he reached his decision,

    It was a dark, stormy night, illuminated by the occasional flashes of lightning over the stone houses. Ozymandias paced back and forth in his room, muttering to himself.

    ¡°Nononono, that''s a bad idea. But if I could just¡­¡±

    Then he stopped and looked at the storm. As if mesmerized, he stepped onto the balcony and let the rain wash over him. He looked into the stormy night, and seemed to see something beyond the vision of mortals.

    ¡°Somewhere out there¡± he whispered ¡°There is a little boy, crying over the grave of his mother. And I didn¡¯t stop it.¡±

    He abruptly turned around, and woke up every single one of his generals and officers.

    ¡°Prepare the army,¡± he said ¡°We march tomorrow¡±

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    They struck in the dead of the next night, a thousand blades plunging into the tender flesh of the sleeping city. It was over in an instant.

    The king of this city was as weak as the former king of Wuking. I watched as he blundered and blustered. The end result was the same. The blood of kings watered the dusty flagstones. Ozymandias tended to the citizens of this city, Graveheart, as well. But the fires of his ambition had been ignited and would not be denied. The stage was set, and finally, Ozymandias could dance.

    Only months later, the next city fell. Then the next. Then the next. I watched with faint horror as the one I had blessed spread such carnage. But he was true to his word. The people loved him for what he did. He was worshiped, and a church was established in his name. The church of the king of kings, or emperor as it came to be called.

    Soon, half the cities of the world had fallen to him. By this point, the remaining cities had banded together, joining armies and resources. I watched them scurry around frantically in a desperate attempt to stop Ozymandias. And it worked. That day, the battle of Actium, Ozymandias was forced to retreat. He raged and the opposing general, Anthony Marked, laughed from the hastily constructed walls of Actium.

    Ozymandias was furious, and in his rage, he lashed out at a servant. I matched from up high. She entered his chambers and timidly approached him,

    ¡°My lord. Would you like a drink?¡±

    Ozymandias snapped. It was his highest creed to protect the lowest of them, but at that moment he lost all control. His rage boiled over, rage from his defeat, rage from his failure to protect, and above all the underlying madness that had accompanied him since his mother''s death. With a roar, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the hard stone floor. Then again. And again. And again. To me, every wet thud of flesh striking stone was the cracking of his path. The destruction of his purpose. He came too hunched over the pulped body of the innocent women who had just tried to help him. He stared at it for a long while. Then with all the calm of the grave, he stated

    ¡°She suffered. My life is forfeit¡±

    He slowly walked out of his room into the rainy night. He came to the edge of his balcony and the edge of the cliff it resided on. Below churned the endless waves of the sea. He stepped up on the railing and paused, turning his head into the rain.

    ¡°I''ve been here before¡± he whispered ¡°This is where it all went wrong. This cursed rain.¡±

    He no longer basked in the rain, but rather opposed it. No longer did he let it freely run down him, he fought it.

    ¡°I WILL NOT BE DECEIVED!¡±

    In a flash, he stepped down.

    ¡°I will not throw away what has been sacrificed for this. Peace WILL BE ACHIEVED.¡± the mad glint in his eye grew,

    ¡°At all costs¡± he whispered.

    The next day he crowned himself with the Crown of Laurel. A symbol of peace, he said, to remind him who he was. A destroyer.

    Sitting on that golden throne, crowned in a crown of laurel, he addressed his people,

    ¡°Sacrifices must be made. I shall break the world, and you shall help. Time will immortalize us as those who conquered the world. All for the greater good,¡±

    He began to use innocents as meat shields and slaves as workers. The alliance of kings was pressed harder and harder. Then on a rainy night, they buckled. Ozymandias led the charge, and I watched as he broke the front lines and charged. The battle was chaotic and I watched as brother killed brother and man killed man. Blood mixed with mud and the howls of the dying joined the pitter-patter of the steady rain. On that bloody night, Ozymandias found Anthony. He lashed out with a mighty blow, but Anthony was a ghost slipping through Ozymandias¡¯s every attempt.

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    ¡°Stop this madness!¡± Anthony called ¡°Why must you kill us?¡±

    ¡°For the people!¡± Ozymandias howled ¡°So that no one may die an unjust death¡±

    ¡°Listen to yourself¡± Anthony growled back ¡°You have murdered, you have enslaved, you have lied!¡±

    ¡°For the greater good!¡±

    ¡°WHOSE GREATER GOOD!¡± Anthony roared ¡°LOOK AROUND YOU! YOU ARE KILLING THOSE YOU PROMISED TO SAVE!¡±

    Ozymandias hesitated, taking in the dead and dying surrounding them, and Anthony, seeing the opportunity lashed out in a brutal cut that severed Ozymandias''s eye. Ozymandias roared in agony and threw himself upon Anthony. A desperate clashing of blades rang through the air. Anthony fought well, for I guided his sword. I guided his steps and I guided his will. But in the end, he was no match for Ozymandias, bearer of the Laurel crown. He fell in a spray of blood, and the night seemed to quiet. All that was left was Ozymandias, locked in a silent battle with the rain that had accompanied him for so long.

    Victorious.

    Emperor of the known world.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------------

    He at long last achieved his goal, but alas, the journey had taken too much from him. His path was shattered and his will broken. The last shreds of his ability to see a way forward had been taken from him alongside his eye. I watched as he descended further and further into madness and depravity as the shreds of his once-noble path were used as weapons of deceit and horror. It pained me to see him so. So broken. One day he stood at the highest peak of his opulent abode, staring into the distance. A young soldier came up to him, stars in his eyes. He hesitantly spoke,

    ¡°What do you see milord?¡±

    Ozymandias was silent for a measure,

    ¡°Death¡± he finally whispered, ¡°It haunts me. I should have died. But here I stand.¡±

    He finally looked at the young soldier.

    ¡°Come here¡± He motioned.

    The young soldier joined him on the tip of the tower.

    ¡°Do you see it?¡± Ozymandias questioned.

    The young man looked hard and deep. Trying to pierce the veil that obscured all. He failed, as had most that had tried.

    ¡°No¡± he replied dejectedly¡±

    ¡°Would you like to?¡± Ozymandias continued, voice slipping into a deadly whisper.

    For the first time, the young soldier began to look nervous,

    ¡°I¡± he swallowed ¡°I would my lord¡±

    Ozymandias leaned close,

    ¡°Tell me what it''s like'''' he whispered.

    With one smooth motion, he gently, almost reverently pushed the young man off the parapet.

    He watched with fascination as the young man fell, screaming to his death, and I watched Ozymandias with sadness.

    The next day it rained.

    Gentle drops washed the faces of those that embraced it, and eroded the wills of those that resisted it. Ozymandias was restless. He could feel something was wrong. Suddenly, he looked up,

    ¡°My destiny,¡± he muttered ¡°Lies in that rain¡±

    He took a step towards the balcony. Then another. Then another. Soon he stood at the edge, shivering as the cold fingers of death wrapped around him. He looked down into the crashing seas, remembering the last time he had been here. When he had almost jumped. For a time he stood, silently fighting the rain, sinking into the empty grasp of madness and death rising to embrace him. The doors opened behind him with a near-silent squeal. Ozymandias heard it all the same. It was the ones he had once considered friends, brothers. The ones that had fought alongside him since the beginning.

    He looked at them, remaining eye clearer than it had been in years,

    ¡°So you have come¡±

    Brucet, the one Ozymandias had once considered a brother, stepped forward,

    ¡°You have fallen Ozymandias,¡± he said sadly ¡°We will stand this evil no more.¡±

    ¡°Evil?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ozymandias. Evil. You have become who you swore to destroy. I regret that it has to come to this. But your reign is over.¡±

    Ozymandias stared at them sadly for a minute, then madness once again filled his single eye,

    ¡°I am Ozymandias, the mad emperor, bearer of the Laurel crown and I will suffer no traitors¡±

    They rushed at him and I guided their movements, making their every step a little faster, their every attack a little faster. Ozymandias was better. His blade was unsheathed, and he was among them, a fox loose among the hens. Even with my guidance, they were not his match. Even the broken fragments of his path were enough. One by one, they fell. The founders of resistance, the forefathers of freedom. All to the blade of the mad tyrant. At last, all that was left was Brucet, and Ozymandias. Brucet charged, for no more words were needed. Ozymandias charged, for no challenge could be left unmet. They met in the center blade against blade, brother versus brother, surrounded by the bodies of those they had once fought beside. Ozymandias pushed Brucet back, blow by crushing blow. In the end, Brucet trembled, back to that endless drop, Ozymandias looming over him, blade in hand.

    ¡°Tell me what death is like, Brucet¡±

    ¡°Come find out for yourself!¡±

    Ozymandias swung, but the rain he had fought for so long could not be denied. He slipped, and Brucet pulled them both over the edge. Ozymandias roared in rage, plunging his blade deep into Brucet¡¯s heart. Brucet only smiled,

    ¡°It''s ok my brother. Soon it will all be over. Soon it will all be over¡­¡±

    They hit the water with a muted splash.

    The world seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as I gathered the paths of Ozymandias and Brucet and pressed it into a pair of interlocked stars. Fighting and meeting for eternity.

    Ozymandias, the mad emperor, bearer of the laurel crown, He Who Conquered the World was dead.

    He was born in the rain and so there did he die.

    His sins washed away by the gentle shower¡­

 20 - Art

    Art is the window into infinity. The bridge between the abstract and the physical. The empire Ozymandias forged still dominated the world. Ruled by one corrupt ruler after another. The people, baptized in the fires of poverty, called for its end. But none of this mattered to the painter on the banks of the silver river. He was creating art, or rather one piece of art. He painted the river he spent his life watching. And to this day I believe that the painting he created is the most valuable thing on the planet. He had no training, no supplies, but he captured the essence of the raging river in such a powerful way that the weak of mind cannot look upon it. It will sweep them away, cut through their minds as it once cut through the land. Dedication leads to perfection. But he created something greater than perfection. A cut to sever even the void. How?

    The empire was growing. A hundred years after Ozymandias¡¯s death it still stood. It now encompassed nearly a hundred cities and their countryside, sprawled along the two life-giving rivers, the silver river and the gold river. It was a sight to behold, as they innovated and grew at clearly noticeable speeds. They had begun to write and they had begun to observe. I normally would be ecstatic that they were finally starting to notice the world around them, but I was watching someone else.

    On the banks of the Silver River, there was a small village. In the small village, an equally small boy sat. He stared at the river with a single-minded dedication that painfully reminded me of Angelica. He had been staring at that river for every day of his short life. I stared with him, wondering what he was seeing. Soon, his mother came and gathered him up. I wasn''t worried. I knew he would be back in the morning.

    Day after day he stared at that river. The seasons changed and the years passed. The river rose and fell, flooded and dried. The world moved and people changed. Yet all the boy did was watch the river, content to let the world pass him by.

    Finally, something changed. The boy reached maturity by the standards of his people. There was a ceremony that night. They danced and sang and laughed. But throughout it all, the boy only watched the river. The following morning, the boy was given enough food for 3 days, and with only the clothes on his back, he was kicked out of the house, as was tradition. The boy, now a man, simply went back to his spot by the river. But this time he did something different. He picked up a stick and drew a line in the dirt. Impossibly, the line looked like the river. Then he went back to looking at the river. His people found him there a few hours later, wondering why he hadn''t left the village. He didn''t respond, staring at the river as he always had. Then they saw the line. There was no more discussion that day.

    Life for the man became routine again. Every day he would go to his spot by the river, draw a line in the dirt, and spend the rest of his day watching the river. Day after day he drew that line. Day after day the line grew more powerful, more nuanced. I watched him as he watched the river. Drew him as he drew the canal. But I never learned how he put so much in a single line.

    The seasons turned and the years passed. In a flash, the man, now an old man, was still watching the river, still drawing his lines. He was ancient now. The oldest in his village. Perhaps the oldest in the empire.

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    One day, a young man returned to the village, after having left upon achieving manhood. He carried with him a sheet of brittle papyrus and a bottle of clotted ink. He was excited, gesturing wildly to the old man and back to the paper. The eyes of the villagers lit up one by one as realization hit them. If they could capture just one line on that papyrus¡­

    They went up to the old man and asked. He said nothing, staring at the river as always. The next day they asked again, and then the next, and then the next.

    Day after day they asked. The day blended into weeks and the weeks into months.

    Finally, nine months later, as the sun fell, the old man turned to them,

    ¡°Tomorrow¡± he gurgled, like the burbling of a creek.

    The next day, the village gathered, holding aloft the sheet of papyrus. The old man arrived, and for the first time in his long life, he didn''t pick up his stick. Instead, he sat down and stared at the river. The crowd slowly trickled away as time passed, but I watched with attentiveness.

    I could feel the momentum building.

    This would surpass any mortal creation.

    Perhaps he would be the first to truly shed mortal shackles.

    The river picked up in strength as if preparing itself. The winds picked up and the trees bent away. Soon only the boy that had brought the papyrus remained, struggling against the wind. The river finally spilled over its bank and wrapped around the ankles of the old man.

    Finally, he stood up.

    The boy held aloft the papyrus hopefully, but the old man walked right by him. He picked up his old stick and walked to the boy. He took the papyrus in hand and looking closely at it, frowned. I knew what he was thinking. This was no medium strong enough for his river.

    So I blessed him, guided his actions.

    He plunged the papyrus into the river water, and when he removed it it was papyrus no more.

    The boy gaped, but the old man continued unabated. He set the medium on the surface of the river, and prepared for his masterpiece. Finally, he was ready. With a single movement, he soaked his stick in the river water, then plunged it into his heart. His blood and the river water mixed. The boy cried out in shock. He took a single step forward and ripped the stick out of his heart in a shower of blood.

    He swung.

    The world seemed to be cut as something immense forced its way through. The power of a mighty river, contained in the stick of an old man. The boy collapsed, dead, his very soul having been shredded by the sight of the cut. Across that paper lay a single, impossible straight line, horizontally bisecting it. The old man looked at it for a second, and for the first time in his life, he smiled.

    ¡°I shall call it The River.¡±

    He collapsed dead the next moment, body and soul spent in an act of creation beyond him.

    The river he loved so much washed away his body, and his River.

    I collected up his soul imprint and weaved it into the river he had spent so long watching.

    They would be one.

    Till the end.

 21 - Authority

    Ozymandias¡¯ empire weakened, and those under its rule began to resist, began to push back. They began to look deeper, past the visible and into the law behind them, into the power that wrought existence itself. Alexander was the greatest of them, he who peered behind the veil, and grasped at the truth of reality. He who carried the blinding torch of knowledge. But the world was not ready for such knowledge. And neither was he.

    The air was chilly, a light breeze sending the folds of Alexander¡¯s white robes fluttering. The stars gleamed above, a smattering of faint lights in the eternal void.

    Alexander took a deep breath, feeling the ever present weight press down on him, the mountain weighing him to the mortal earth.

    Stop they whispered you are but a man. Reach not for the domain of gods.

    He shivered, heaven¡¯s whispers far more tyrannical than the frigid wind. His head turned from side to side as he looked around uncertainly, unsure of how to proceed.

    He was so young, only the hints of muscle on his arms and chest marking what he would become.

    And that glint in his eyes, that hard flint, that spark.

    He reached out, with hands wrought of will and soul.

    And he lifted.

    Reality bent before him, groaning as it gave way to the will of a were child.

    For a second, he just stood there, the world distorting as it struggled to contain him. Then he moved.

    The rock beneath him shattered, sending gray shards careening through the starry night.Still soaring higher, he outstretched his hand, as if reaching for mine. Wild joy danced across his face, lighting up his pale blue eyes and casting dimples across his tanned face.

    For a moment, suspended in the starry void, he was free.

    Then his hold slipped, and the world, contained for mere moments, came crashing down. Alexander''s eyes widened, the moments of time translating into magnitude, joining the weight to strike him from the sky.

    He plummeted down to the earth like the proud son of heaven he was, cast from the sky.

    And was caught by me.

    I know not what his panicked and exhausted mind saw in me, but his eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips. Before he could say anything more, exhaustion dragged him under, and he sank into the depths of dreams.

    I laid him down in the long grass.

    And left him to his dreams.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    ¡°No!¡± Aristotle snarled, ¡°How many times have I told you, you stupid boy?! Think! Don¡¯t act like a brute!¡±

    Alexander growled at his teacher.

    He received a smack on the back of his head for his insolence. ¡°Don¡¯t growl like an animal! Think! Reason is your sword, and logic your shield. Until you understand that, you are naught but a beast!¡±

    Alexander seethed, but still made an effort.

    He fixed his gaze on a swaying wooden pole, and the rock poached atop it. It was an unstable contraception, the pole swaying and groaning under the rock''s weight, looking like it would fall at any moment.

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    Of course, that was the point.

    Alexander¡¯s eyes narrowed, his mind racing as it reached for the truest, most logical statement he could find.

    He extended a hand.

    The sky is the domain of the winged he intoned, letting the words spill through his mind. He felt a strain as the world pushed back on him, its resentment crushing the gossamer threads of his rhetoric.

    His eyes sharpened, flint revealing itself. His hand clenched, a thumb sticking out from the side.

    Rocks boast no wings.

    The strain disrupted his control, scattering his will even as he asserted himself.

    He struggled, managing to gather the last meager scraps of his energy together.

    His thumb turned down.

    Fall!

    The pole shivered and flexed, for a moment looking like it would give under the weight of the rock. Then the moment passed and reality reasserted itself.

    ¡°Pathetic¡± Aristotle scoffed, looking at Alexander''s panting form. ¡°That was among the easiest of tasks. Do you understand what your father is paying me for this education? And you are squandering it.¡±

    Alexander groaned, slowly pushing himself to his feet.

    His legs shook. He could feel reality pressing down on him, laying its chains upon his back. It meant to force him within its order, make him obey its laws.

    And, at the moment, its laws told him he had no right standing after such an exertion.

    It asserted its will upon him, trying to drive him to his knees.

    So he asserted himself in turn, declaring to all that he would stand.

    Aristotle nodded. ¡°Better. Much better. Now, tell me, why was that easier than influencing the rock?¡±

    Alexander thought about it. ¡°Because I am the origin of my power, so it''s easier to make changes closer to me?¡±

    ¡°Close. It''s because the rock is outside the scope of your authority. It doesn''t belong to you, so when you contest its place, you have to first assert your authority over it. And even then, you are at an advantage, because you need to maintain that authority. But for yourself¡­¡± ¨Che waved a hand at Alexander¨C ¡°You are naturally within your own authority, so it becomes less of a struggle to establish your authority, and more of a simple expansion of your already existing authority.¡±

    Alexander tilted his head. ¡°So why even bother establishing authority over specific things outside of yourself? Why not even bother with rhetoric? Why not just expand your own power till all things become trivial?¡±

    Aristotle sighed, muttering something under his breath. ¡°Just because it''s simpler to do, idiot child, does not mean it is better. The harder you push against the world, the harder it pushes back. I can topple mountains with the amount of authority it would take you to punch through a small boulder.¡±

    Alexander furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

    Aristotle sighed, and waved a hand, toppling the poll and depositing the rock between them. ¡°Say you wanted to break this rock. You could assert yourself until the rock would bend before you, but the effort of such a thing would be absurd. But I can just simply¡­¡±

    He ran a gentle finger over its length, whispering words under his breath.

    The rock split into two pieces.

    ¡°It''s easier to work in line with the laws of nature than to blatantly disobey them. That is what rhetoric is for, to align with nature''s laws. Pushing against them blindly like a brute will get you nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Why does the world limit us like that?¡±

    ¡°That is simply how it is. All things are free to exist and exert authority within certain bounds, but the second they exceed those limits, the world will push back.¡±

    ¡°What defines those bounds?¡±

    Aristotle huffed. ¡°What will it take to get this through your thick skull? It is simply the way it is. A falcon will always be faster than a man. The second a man intrudes upon that domain, the world will limit him, for he is not a falcon¡±

    ¡°What if he was?¡±

    Aristotle looked at Alexander as if he had sprouted another head. ¡°What nonsense have you got in your head now?¡±

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. Maybe it is futile for a human to push against the walls of nature. But what if they didn¡¯t do so as a human?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the stup-¡±

    ¡°Instead of trying to outrun a falcon as a man, do so as lightning. Instead of trying to imitate authority and natural law with knowledge, simply become what you wish to alter, and it will naturally fall within your purview.¡±

    ¡°Child, sto-¡±

    ¡°In fact, I bet it''s even possible to b-¡±

    Aristotle smacked him over the head. ¡°Quiet, idiot child.¡± he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting the fact that you are a man. How do you expect to become a lightning bolt?¡±

    Alexander wilted, prompting yet another sigh from Aristotle.

    ¡°Chin up, idiot child. At least it was original.¡±

    He reached over and reset the rock-and-pole contraption.

    ¡°Now, back to rhetoric practice.¡±

 21.2 - An Early Death

    Alexander was older now, his late teens having brought lean muscles and youthful vigor to his body. He walked with cat-like grace, seeming to dance between the crowded palace halls.

    Only his empty eyes betrayed his absent mind.

    It was only when he reached his destination, a large set of open bronze doors that his mind seemed to snap back to his body. He pushed the doors open with a quiet breath, hoping to sneak in unnoticed.

    Luck was not on his side.

    ¡°Well, well, well, look who decided to show up.¡±

    Alexander¡¯s father, Eliezer of Marcenia, was an aging man, the last hints of his once prolific muscle being swallowed by the slow advent of time. His brown hair and beard were speckled with white, and his back was starting to hunch ever so slightly. Still, Alexander knew better than to judge him by his appearance. He was a monster, in battle or on the throne. His pale blue eyes were clear as he glared at Alexander.

    Alexander winced at his fathers expression, a quick scan of the other couches and tables in the conference room showing others mirroring the sentiment.

    ¡°Sorry. I got distracted.¡±

    ¡°And what could possibly be more important than this? The empire is pressing us harder than ever, the peasants are starving, and I''m aging. You are the heir, Alexander, you must take your duties more seriously.¡±

    Suitably chastened, Alexander hurried to take his seat to the right of his father.

    The meeting resumed, and although he tried to pay attention, Alexander quickly found his thoughts slipping away.

    Aristotle had left long ago, but Alexander had been dutiful in his practice and exploration. Recently, he had been exploring an idea he had had as a boy, that of assuming the characteristics of another thing to gain authority over it.

    It was a novel approach, one that appeared to be paying dividends.

    He had found success in a steadily decreasing magnitude of resistance levied against him, but he was looking for something more.

    And the night before, he had found it.

    He outstretched a hand, gently wagging his fingers, feeling threads of air sneak between them. His eyes closed, draggin him back.

    He remembered dancing through the wide plains near the palace, feeling the unbound wind against his skin. He had mimicked its movements, gently shaping it. At first, he had done so via rhetoric, redrawing the flows of the wind in accordance with logic and reason.

    But as he sank further into the wind, further from human sensibilities, his alterations had become broader, wilder, more natural.

    Then, for a single moment, he had become the wind.

    The chains holding him to the earth had vanished, and for a glorious moment he had been free. He no longer needed rhetoric, nor will.

    The wind had danced to his whims, even as he had dissolved into it.

    It was only upon seeing his arms grow transparent that the animal portion of himself had managed to claw control back, his transformation ending with the reinstatement to his chains.

    It was both a triumph and a failure, a proof of concept and revelation of its dangers.

    Alexander broke into cold sweat when he considered how close he had been to losing himself.

    But he yearned for that sense of freedom.

    Perha-

    ¡°..der! Alexander!¡±

    Alexander snapped back to the present, finding the attention of the command council once more focused on him.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you!¡± Eliezer snapped. ¡°First, you show up late. Then, you fall asleep!¡±

    Alexander opened his mouth to protest, and closed it just as quickly upon seeing the violent gleam in his fathers eyes.

    ¡°How do you expect to rule this kingdom if you can¡¯t even sit through one meeting?¡±

    Alexander didn¡¯t even want to be king, but he knew better to say that to his father. Instead, he hung his head, cheeks burning.

    He was 18, and a crown prince to boot, and here he was being scolded by his father in front of the most powerful people in the kingdom.

    Eliezer grunted. ¡°Now, as I was saying. What is your opinion of the Empire''s demand?¡±

    Alexander seized the question like a lifeline, eyeing the map on the table thoughtfully and affecting a pensive expression.

    The Empire was declining, long years of internal squabbling having brought the once mighty nation to its knees. Now, in its death throes, it was a trashing mess, scrambling at whatever could keep it afloat for even a second longer.

    It was a simple decision for Alexander.

    When someone pressed down upon him, he pressed back.

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    Simple as that.

    ¡°We will not stand for this¡± he announced. ¡°They¡¯re weak and cannot afford to force us. I say we ignore them, They can take their demands elsewhere.¡±

    Eliezer scrutinized him carefully, before letting out an approving grunt.

    ¡°Not totally spineless afterall, huh.¡±

    He turned to the council. ¡°All in favor of the prince''s verdict?¡±

    The hall shook with the volume of their approval.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    While Alexander went about his normal schedule, wandering and exploring, Marcenia was preparing for war. Men were being trained and weapons forgeds. Nobody truly expected to use them, confident in the assumption that the empire was too weak to overextend themselves.

    But they forgot.

    Open battle is not the only medium through which war rages.

    Alexander was up late, yawning as he silently picked his way through the dark halls. There was no moon in the black sky, and even the stars seemed dimmer than usual. Despite the lack of light, Alexander glided down the halls with his characteristic grace, soon reaching one of the inner courtyards. He strolled through the wide hedges and dark trees, eventually taking a seat on the bank of the small pond.

    He loved this spot, loved the glimmers of starlight across the dark waters, the way the light bent and reflected in its jeweled swirls. His mother too had loved it, and together they had spent many nights bathing in the moon and stars.

    Thinking of her spent and stab of pain through him, he quickly turned his thoughts away from her and back to the pond. He observed it for a while, letting the pond¡¯s gentle wrinkles slip into him, letting the current of his mind imitate them.

    Soon, he began to sway with it, his skin beginning to catch starlight much in the same way the pond did.

    Slowly but surely, he began to slip more and more in tune with the pond, letting the gentle wind join his symphony, soon followed by the rustling grass.

    A small portion of himself, tucking in the back of his mind so he wouldn''t lose himself, watched with awe as he transformed. Boundaries slipped away, and he felt himself bleeding into the world.

    He let the world cycle through him, feeling part of himself evaporate into the air, only to return in the quiet wind. He began to assert himself over, using the parts of himself he let bleed away to wield authority over the world.

    The wind began to swirl, picking up droplets of water and sending them twirling around him. Rays of light joined them, bending between droplets in a network of light.

    It was difficult at first, like wielding a new limb, but slowly it became natural.

    The swirling wind slowly died down, it''s only indication the thin streams of water that still danced around Alexander. Starlight began to thread through the streams, transforming them into snakes of light.

    They danced around Alexander, extensions of himself.

    For hours he practiced wielding them, calling more and more till he was surrounded by a dozen strands of softly glowing strands of water.

    He sank deeper and deeper, reaching out for the illusive insight.

    He felt so close.

    If only-

    An arrow passed through his head, ripping out the back of his skull in a deluge of water. He flinched, and before he could even consciously register what had happened his little snake of light streaked forward like a cluster of shooting stars, illuminating a terrified face an instant before it was ripped to shreds.

    For a second Alexander struggled with a strange sense of detachment. His human mind screamed at him, trying to rouse him from his quiet mediation. It insisted he was in danger, it demanded he feel fear, he feel anger. It screamed that he had killed another man. The majority of him, however, didn''t care. What was an arrow to the winds? To the stars? To the oceans?

    And to that point, what was a man to them?

    Eventually, it was the realization that he might not be the only target that woke him from his stupor.

    He made to assume full control of himself, before hesitating. He could feel his human portion panicking in the back of his mind, its animal fear diluted by the magnitude of what he had become.

    Perhaps going back wasn''t the wisest move.

    Inspiration struck him, and he turned to the wind. He slowly withdrew himself from the gentle pond, the swaying grass and the soft starlight, feeling an acute sense of loss as parts of himself were stripped away. He embraced the wind in turn, feeling himself grow lighter, sharper.

    He opened his mount, and spreading his presence to the wind, spoke.

    ¡°ASSASSINS IN THE PALACE.¡±

    His words boomed forth, bolstered by far more than his physical body.

    Without a second to waste, he rushed back inside the palace. It was uncomfortable, being the wind within closed walls, but he persevered, speeding towards his fathers apartments.

    His human side whispered instructions, guiding the capricious winds.

    People were beginning to fill the halls as he rushed forward, their confusion and panic forcing him to draw upon the wind to perform preternatural feats of flexibility and strength.

    He was halfway to his fathers apartment when the hazy edges of his being finally brushed upon his fathers apartments.

    He ground to a halt, nearly stumbling even through the supernatural grace of the wind.

    He focused his senses, desperately trying to see if there was some sort of mistake, but no matter how much he felt it, the scene refused to change.

    A man, once a king, slumped in a mighty chair, chest riddled with arrows..

    His father.

    Guards surrounded the corpse solemnly, joined by ministers and aids.

    Emotion raged within him, a mixture of grief, anger, pain and sorrow driving the apathetic winds from him.

    He walked the rest of the way in silence, more the winds leaving him every moment, leaving him human.

    And hurting.

    When he finally reached his fathers apartment, he was but Alexander once more.

    He pushed open the ridiculously large doors, recalling how his father had loved them, before heading in.

    People parted before him, giving him low bows and clearing the way to his father¡¯s corpse. Blood was everywhere, dripping from the half-dozen arrows embedded in Eliezer¡¯s chest, staging his shirt and pants crimson.

    His eyes were wide, surprised evident in them.

    Alexander reached up and closed them. Emotion surged through him like a storm. ¡°Goddamn it old man.¡± he whispered. ¡°Why did you have to go now of all times?¡±

    He didn''t know how long he stood before his fathers corpse, silently mourning him, but when he turned, an equally unpleasant surprise awaited him.

    A small sea of people kneeled before him, one arm crossed across their chests.

    As one, they spoke.

    ¡°We greet the new king. May his rule be long and prosperous.¡±

 21.3 - A Kings Birth

    The throne was too large.

    Not physically of course. Alexander was a muscular young man, and the throne fit him like a glove.

    And it was from that perch he watched his father¡¯s, his, kingdom fall apart.

    He tried to slow it down, desperately reassuring nobles and servants alike. But there was so much to do, so many little pieces he had never noticed before, so many daggers hiding in the dark.

    Maybe if he had just paid a bit more attention¡­

    He quickly shut down that line of thought. Bemoaning what he had lost would not aid him now.

    All throughout the chaos, the empire sank their hooks into him, prying his kingdom open with opulent gifts and offers of help.

    And Alexander just watched, drowning in a throne too big for him.

    ¡ª-----------------------

    Alexander flowed through his forms, the longsword in his hands cleaving deadly arks through the air. Faster and faster he went, till tiny vacuums began to form in his wake, first born from the sword''s deadly blade, and later springing from his own body as he adopted the blade''s edge.

    He was one with the sword, and it was one with him.

    And in a fragile world they danced.

    But the deeper he sank into it, the more he embodied it, the more a sense of wrongness intruded upon him ¡ª a whisper that not all was right. He shook it off and refocused, but it always came creeping back with ever growing intensity.

    Finally, unable to withstand it anymore, he stopped the dance and withdrew himself from the sword. It took precious minutes as his more human sensibilities returned to him, his mind finally turning from the single minded desire to cut.

    WIth renewed faculties, he turned his gaze to the empty field where he had come to practice. The ground was covered in thin slices, though not nearly as much as he had expected.

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    He knew how deep he had sunk into the blade. Not even the tree on the clearing edge should have been spared.

    And yet they stood.

    He called back to the sense of wrongness, the feeling of moving backwards.

    Why was it wrong?

    He set his blade down and, wiping the sweat from his brow, laid down in the shredded grass.

    What had he set out to do?

    That one was simple: he had wanted to learn how to wield a blade.

    So why had embodying it felt like he was stepping even further away from it?

    The answer came to him in the slow rustling of the breeze. A man was more than their flesh, and a blade was more than its metal. It was forging in the image of the true Blade, a form that possessed no physical form, yet existed all the same.

    He was failing because he was imitating a cheap copy, rather than the true thing.

    He slowly pushed himself to his feet, reflecting on the nature of a blade. It was not a simple tool of steel and form. No, it was more than a physical tool.

    At its coremost essence, its truest truth, a blade cut.

    Drawing upon that new understanding, Alexander raised his unarmed hand, pressing it into a swordhand. He took a deep breath, reaching out, brushing something he had never touched before, faintly through his blade.

    But this was no mere reflection.

    He was cut, and he almost lost his grip.

    But rallying his will, he let those cuts shape him, casting aside humanity for a higher form.

    He became the Blade.

    His arm came down in a blur.

    And this time the trees around the clearing stood no chance.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

    What was a king?

    A king was strong.

    A king was loved.

    A king was feared.

    A king ruled.

    So Alexander, the newly crowned king of Marcenia, not a month after his death, touched upon the very essence of kinghood. He let it flood into him, a never ending deluge of power and authority, a promise of authority over men.

    He crowned himself, in the way all great men do, and the kingdom fell before his knees.

    Slowly but surely, the slow degradation of his nation reversed, the army once more resuming its momentous growth and the nobles bowing before his throne.

    A throne he had finally grown into.

 21.4 - Death

    ¡°We march in one week.¡±

    The council nodded resolutely, having expected the announcement for months now.

    Herendei, the last holdout, stepped forward. ¡°My king, are we sure this is the wisest course of action? The empire is mighty, even in its dusk era.¡±

    Alexander nodded. ¡°It must be done. When the world is pressing down upon you, there are only three options: bow before it, push against it, or become something it can no longer contain. The last is what we must do. If we are to be free, we must become something so mighty that no tyrant after will dare threaten our people.¡±

    Herendei hesitated. ¡°And if we fail in our transformation?¡±

    ¡°Then at least we died in the pursuit of higher ideals.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a cold comfort for a dead man.¡±

    Alexander paused. ¡°Yes. Yes, it is. But to he who lives on? Who lives standing before those that would dare proclaim themselves better. Who refuses to grovel before them. It is everything.¡± His pale eyes passed over the rest of the council, and he sank back further into the concept of kinghood, an invisible aura springing forth to reinforce his next words.

    ¡°Better to die on one¡¯s feet than to live on one¡¯s knees.¡±

    Herendei still looked doubtful, but he conceded to Alexander¡¯s authority.

    ¡°Prepare the armies, harvest the crop, clear the path. We shall suffer under the empire no longer.¡±

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    The night was cold, but It had been months since such a thing had bothered him. The pond was the same as always but Alexander could no longer enjoy it as he once had.

    It had only been a few months since he assumed the throne, since he had embodied the very concept of kinghood. He regretted the necessity of the act.

    ¡°I can feel it, mother,¡± he whispered. ¡°Hollowing me out. Everyday I lose more of myself smothered by this blanket of responsibility and duty.¡±

    He sighed and sat down, shedding the burden of kinghood in favor of something lighter.

    The wind came to his call, whispering stories of faraway places and exotic scents, before quietly joining his contemplation. He felt lighter. He imagined his mothers response.

    She would gently stroke his hair, and say. ¡°It''s alright my love, it''s alright.¡±

    He wished he had somebody to confide in, but his contemplation was not conducive to such relationships.

    So all he had was the ancient shadow of his long-dead mother, and the wind.

    It would have to be enough.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    War was not what Alexander had expected.

    Blood and piss soaked the dirt, highlighted by the moans of the wounded and dying. The blue sky seemed unbothered by the carnage its children were releasing upon the earth, and the sun sent down its loving rays regardless.

    Alexander wondered how they could be so indifferent to the sheer magnitude of the suffering taking place here. He knew that if he had not sought refuge within the concept of kinghood, he would be puking all over the coarse soil.

    ¡°My lord¡± one of his generals leaned up from whispering to the messenger that had recently come in, ¡°The eastern flank is buckling. It needs support.¡±

    Alexander nodded, turning to the messenger. ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    Another of his generals stepped forward. ¡°My lord, surely you can''t be thinking of going alone.¡±

    The rest hesitated. They had seen what he was capable of.

    The messenger paled under Alexander¡¯s unbreaking gaze, and frantically began remounting his horse.

    As they approached the battlefield, Alexander became aware of a horrible stench, like rotting iron. The noises of combat began to rise, the pleas of individuals now distinguishable from the clashing mass.

    As the messenger led him along the lines, curving toward the eastern flank, Alexander fought the stubborn embers of his younger self.

    It didn''t want anything to do with this carnage, but Alexander the king knew better.

    It was his responsibility, his duty to protect his men, deliver them from death''s cruel grasp.

    So he would.

    When they drew closer, the messenger became superfluous. Alexander could feel the desperation as his men were pushed back, as they laid down their lives to buy their brother mere seconds.

    Alexander the King raged. How dare they harm his men. How dare they!

    He stood in his saddle, stretching forth threads of authority to continue guiding his noble steed. For a second he stood tall, balanced on a galloping stead, taking in the battlefield.

    Then Alexander the King became Alexander of wind, and he was soaring through the air.

    The messenger watched in awe as he soared over his panting stead. The back lines of his battered army began to shout as they noticed him, gaping in shock as he soared over them.

    He landed in the middle of the empire''s forces, assuming the king for a moment more, watching horror flicker across the enemies faces, watching their knees buckled under his authority.

    Then he was the Sword.

    And heads began to roll.

    He pushed them back with force, reaping swaths of men at a time with scything sword hands. With space cleared around him, he began to consciously draw upon different concepts.

    His voice became that of the general, his rallying cries invigorating and spurring forth his exhausted troops.

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    His skin became light, blinding all those that dared gaze upon him.

    His bones became steel, taking even the mightiest of impacts without even flexing.

    His muscles became wind, turning him into a whirlwind of chaos.

    Dozens of concepts wove into him, spilling out into his men. They tore the men separating them from their king, and within minutes found themselves behind him.

    Together, they pushed forth, the eastern flank crumbling before them.

    ¡°Forward men!¡± Alexander the General roared, ¡°Surround the main army!¡±

    An affirming roar spurned him forward, a massive Sword strike, joined with threads of Fear and War crumpled their lines, sending the survivors fleeing.

    Alexander sank deeper into his battle trance, letting out a roar and pushing forward, unheeding of the fleeing men.

    Momentum gathered around him, transforming hom for every second he fought, making him into something the world could not contain.

    I will admit, watching him was a treat. He did more than merely weave abstraction and ideas, like Aristotle would have done. He became them, and it made all the difference.

    I watched as he crashed into the empire¡¯s back lines, followed by his men.

    I watched as they reaped lives in the thousands.

    And I witnessed, when as was said and done.

    The birth of Alexander the Conqueror.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------

    The Empire¡¯s forces folded like wet paper before Alexander.

    He pushed them back so fast it seemed like they were inviting him into their territory.

    In his wake, free peoples rejoiced, finally free from Octavian¡¯s mad ambition.

    At long last.

    When they finally stood before the mighty walls of Wuking, it felt like a dream to many, an impossibility made manifest.

    Through the night they planned and upon sunrise, Alexander stood before the empire¡¯s capital, ready to bring it to its knees.

    But fate had other plans.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    Alexander raised a hand, and his army tensed up, hands hovering over the release mechanism for their siege engines.

    Just as he was about to bring his hand down, condemning the city, a voice stopped him.

    ¡°Just leave.¡±

    It rippled across the land, warping the world with his power. Some of his men began to turn around, the sheer authority in the voice leaving them defenseless.

    Frowning, Alexander asserted his authority in contestion surprised at how difficult it was to dispel the other¡¯s causal command. Even among his own men, those he had long since established authority over, he barely managed it.

    He sharpened his eyes, taking a falcon''s sight in an attempt to find the source of the voice. It was surprisingly easy, the man in question simply standing atop the battlements. He had a plain appearance, with brown hair and an unremarkable face.

    Except for his brilliant azure eyes.

    There was a slender sword at his side, one that looked too delicate for battle. Alexander frowned, a tinge of unease telling him to take another look at the sword.

    He did so, looking deeper than the physical.

    He almost died in that moment, glimpsing a corner of absolute death before he managed to close his eyes. He immediately fell to his knees, ignoring the outcry among his men as he became the earth, stable and eternal.

    Slowly, he felt stability return to him, the damaged threads of his existence weaving back together. He let out a shuddering breath, waving off the officers crowded around him and refocusing.

    Who was that?

    The man met his gaze calmly.

    And in his eyes, Alexander found death.

    It was quiet, and it was absolute.

    Alexander¡¯s gaze widened as, for the first time in his life,he came across something beyond him. His approach to a problem had always been to understand it, and then to embody it.

    But here was a concept antithetical to his very existence. Inviting even a shred of it within himself was death.

    He found himself at an impasse.

    He could not turn back, not when their liberation was at hand.

    But he could not advance forward, that man promising death to all who tried.

    He let his lips become wind, carrying his voice across the battlefield. ¡°Why are you stopping us? The empire must fall.¡±

    The man scowled. ¡°The empire has reaped what it has sown. You have savaged them enough. The balance is restored. Leave.¡±

    ¡°I cannot jus-¡±

    ¡°Silence. Leave.¡±

    Alexander took a breath, considering his options.

    There was one left.

    Advance.

    He remembered a time, before he had understood the world, before he had become a part of it. When, teetering on unsteady legs, he had stood in defiance of the heavens themselves. When he had refused truth with naught but pure will.

    As he recalled the blade, he knew it was the only way. Such a thing could not be wielded, only destroyed.

    There would be a price to pay for disobeying the world, but he would deal with that when it came.

    He raised his hand, its glacial pace giving his men time to recover themselves and prepare.

    For the first time in ages, he cast aside all influences, shed the skin of the king, the breath of the wild. And he was once more Alexander, and only Alexander.

    The world pushed down on him, declaring that no mortal may wield Alexander¡¯s power.

    And he pushed back.

    His lips parted, sound emerging from deep within-

    ¡°No.¡± His arm fell, and the Ballista released, shadowed by a flood of roaring men, Alexander at its head.

    He smiled, flexing his will to dispel the showers of arrows from the defenders. It felt so good to finally be in his own skin after so long in anothers.

    When they were halfway there, the azure eyed man finally let out a sigh and stepped forward. Alexander roared in challenge and surged forth, demanding the world give way before his passage.

    The ground cracked, and Alexander the Conqueror hurled himself at the man that dared stand in his way. The man¡¯s hand lazily drifted to the hilt of his blade but that didn''t deter Alexander.

    He was confident in surviving the blade long enough to put down the upstart.

    Then the blade was unsheathed, and the sky turned black.

    Alexander paled, finally feeling the might of the unsheathed blade. It was beyond mortal comprehension, a weapon of the gods.

    And God Slayer was its name.

    Alexander snarled and threw himself at the man, knowing his only chance was slaying the man before he could use that blade.

    If only-

    And then he was gone.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    His death was instantaneous, his authority unable to delay God-Slayer for even a instant.

    Sighing, Darius an Erduk turned his attention to the Conqueror¡¯s army. He sheathed God-Slayer once more and bent his knees slightly, His authority and will focused to the utmost, coating the sheathed blade in a layer of deeper power.

    Any less and the blade would destroy him.

    He took a deep breath.

    And drew.

    The Conqueror¡¯s army ground to a halt. Then, one by one, they began to drop bonelessly to the floor, the connection between their bodies and souls severed.

    Darius resheated his blade with a deep breath, and, ignoring the horrified whispers of the men on the wall, turned to leave.

    The balance was preserved.

    He hoped it would be enough.

 22 - A Empires End

    It is a recurring theme in history, that no matter how good the original intentions of an institution were, it will inevitably be corrupted. That was the fate of Octavian¡¯s empire. It had been a monolith for hundreds of years. A bastion of culture and humanity. But it was falling to corruption. Spartan the unnamed, a simple soldier was the final straw. He understood the teaching of Hestia in a way beyond the reaches of man. Hope is the power that guides the actions of man. If only I could grasp such power. If only I could have his control.

    When Spartan was merely a green soldier, he met Angelica¡¯s descendant. And the blade he wielded. God-slayer. The descendant had heard stories of an old man and the rivers he drew and was seeking the old man out in hopes of learning. I listened as the descendant told stories to an enamored Spartan, on a cold windy night. Stories of his adventures, of climbing the Mountain of Adam, of crossing the endless sea, of slaying monstrous creatures. To Spartan, he was a living legend. To me, he was a reminder and an oddity. He was not linked to traditional fate like most, only indirectly related through causality. That night I felt fate shift around Spartan as the descendant spoke his final words,

    ¡°It''s a glorious truth of the universe. What is born must die. And we can be vessels of that change.¡±

    He looked at Spartan with burning azure eyes,

    ¡°Remember this kid, because I learned it far too late. There is no can¡¯t. There is only won¡¯t. So long as we are willing to pay the price, even godhood is within our reach.¡±

    With those final words, he got up and headed back into the windy night. He never found the old man nor his painting.

    At first, Spartan¡¯s life stayed the same. He trained and enjoyed the company of friends. Then one day,

    ¡°To arms!¡± yelled the messenger who had just burst through the barracks door. ¡°Rebellion in the east!¡±

    I don¡¯t know why I kept watching this common soldier. He was born with no great fate, no mighty mind, no immense strength. He was normal, in every sense of the word. Yet¡­ as I watched him march through the cold spring, I knew he would change the world.

    It was dusk when the rebels struck, the Imperial legion was caught by surprise as a rain of arrows poured down. They quickly regrouped and raised their rectangular shields. Spartan was in the front, side by side with his friends. The rebels came down upon them like the endless waves hounding the shore. Almost immediately, the green front lines started to buckle. I watched as blood painted the ground crimson and death came to ferry away the souls of the fallen. Then, when all seemed lost, an old soldier jumped to the front, drew his blade, and cleared the way like a scythe through wheat.

    ¡°Forward men!¡± he yelled, continuing his dance ¡°Forward!¡±

    The imperials regrouped and advanced. It was a long bloody battle but the imperials won with heavy casualties. Spartan wept over the corpses of his friends, wallowing in the guilt of being the only one left. The battle had been terrifying. The rebels¡­ their eyes burned. Burned with light beyond them. They shone like stars. To stuff out those stars¡­ had been horrible for Spartan. He could still remember the desperate hope in their eyes as their warm blood splashed him. For the rest of the march back, he was listless. Hollow.

    Back at Lyke, the city that was once his home, the soldiers were all given the week off to recover. Spartan stumbled aimlessly through the streets. He was lost. I guided him, holding his hand as he stumbled through the streets. We arrived at the street of temples, an avenue of glorious statues and monolithic buildings. We passed them all, the white marble temples and the deep sea monuments alike. Eventually, we arrived at the smallest of them all. Hestia¡¯s temple. I left Spartan there, and I stepped back to watch. The priests came and gathered him up, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. They guided him to the roof and helped him lie down. Among the priests of hope, and the sobs of the hopeless Spartan slept soundly for the first time in days. He woke to a moonless night. The stars shone with their full might, free from the obscuring rays of the moon. And above Spartan was a single small star. It was a star I knew well, for I had pressed Hestia¡¯s path into it so long ago. It was steeped with the essence of hope, and hope is what it granted Spartan. Where others saw a single, lonely star, he saw a burning soul, ablaze with the light of life. He saw the eyes of those who had died on his blade. He saw the triumphant mother, watching her children eat, even as she starved. The dying man, smiling at his children. The doomed lord, giving the last of his wealth to the people. He saw hope in but a fraction of his myriad forms. And then I saw him do something remarkable. Lit by the flames of hope, he turned not to blind rage, but instead simple contemplation. It is remarkable how few humans take the time to properly think something out, instead of throwing themselves into the shredder with all the passion of a burning star. He retraced the steps that had led to that horrible day. The screams of the dying. The crimson mud. The flashing blades. And finally, their terrible burning eyes. Except now, they were not terrible but beautiful, reflections of the star above. It clicked. They fought for hope of a better future, just as he fought for that same hope. They just fought in different ways. He sought to better his situation in the empire, they sought to end it. But why? The increasing rebellion. The decreasing wealth. The bickering of the leaders. There had to be a reason. The stars shone on a moonless night, and a man peeled back the veil of lies. Finally, he looked up again,

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    ¡°The empire killed my brothers.¡± he whispered ¡°and so many others. The empire exists to serve the people. And when it cannot anymore, it must be replaced¡±

    I felt it then, the start of a formation of a path. A powerful one, but he hesitated. It''s a shame that often those thoughtful enough to consider their choices end up without the conviction to truly commit. I watched the pendulum swing back and forth, the nascent path swinging from destruction to completion. Finally, it reached its head,

    ¡°There is no can¡¯t. There is only won¡¯t.¡± he whispered. Focusing his eyes back on the stars he spoke louder, ¡°I will not back down. My brothers, I will create a better world in your memory.¡±

    The path solidified, and the light of Hestia blessed him.

    Within a day he was on the road towards the capital, Wuking, traveling not with the blind rage of an avenger but rather the gentle calm of a saint. The true tragedy of transcendent revelation is that it is almost impossible to once more embrace simple mortality after peeking at the great forces that drive the cosmos. Those with it burn brilliant and short, unable to sustain their mortal shells in the luminosity of their transcendent insight. Spartan was no different, and as he rode the winds of hope to the rescue of the damned, he contemplated his death.

    The city was a powder keg, roiling with tensions between the powerful rich and the weak poor. And a star had just entered.

    Spartan walked to the center of the slums. And he began to speak.

    Some people underestimate the power of simple words. They believe that true change can only be accomplished through careful planning and exacting actions. I have seen many men to prove them wrong. But not so much as Spartan. When he opened his mouth and spoke, his words were heavy with meaning, drowning in essence. He was less a mortal in those moments, and more like a conduit of his path. Of Hope. He spoke and the people listened. They listened well. More and more gathered to hear the words of a man who had touched godhood. He spoke like the wind, breathless and endless, giving voice to their deepest thoughts. Soon enough, soldiers came to arrest him, but they too fell under the spell of his words. He began to walk, leading his flock through the streets. Today they were the students, but perhaps tomorrow they could be the teachers. The gates to the inner palace snapped open, like the jaws of a massive beast and soldiers streamed out. The men and women behind him began to step forward to intercept them, but Spartan waved them back.

    ¡°Take me to the emperor¡± he commanded.

    They escorted Sartan to an opulent throne room where there, on a throne of gold, sat the emperor. He was a fat man, decked in layers of gold and jewels,

    ¡°Is this the rabble-rouser?¡± He questioned mechanically.

    ¡°Yes, My Emperor¡±

    ¡°Execute him in the morning¡±

    Spartan spent the night in silent meditation, preparing for his death. Tomorrow he would break the chains of hopelessness and ascend with the rising sun.

    The morning came, and Spartan was dragged down the streets, accompanied by the crowing of the roosters.

    A massive crowd was already gathered, waiting with bated breath.

    Spartan climbed on the platform, the rising sun at his back, ringing his dull brown hair in a ring of violet fire.

    The square hushed as the condemned man faced death with a straight back and calm smile.

    He addressed them, unbothered by the soldiers behind him, ¡°Change comes only to those willing to pursue it. I stand under the scythe of death and I hope for a better future.¡±

    He smiled at them,

    ¡°Stand beside me. And hope with me.¡±

    The headsman approached him, sharpening his axe ominously.

    Spartan continued,

    ¡°Hope is immortal, as am I. Not in its mortal vessels but in its immortal meaning. I die today, my body returning to the earth, but not the path I stood for, the hope I instilled. That is still there. Today is not the death of that hope, but rather the day where that transcendent hope is released from its mortal vessel.¡±

    The soldiers grabbed Spartan and forced him to his knees in front of the chopping block. The people began to roil dangerously,

    Spartan raised a hand from his kneeling position,

    ¡°Stop. You cannot fight the empire yet. I beg of you, from my death, take not anger and fury, but rather understanding and hope. Throw yourself not into a futile task, but take the time and care to make that task simple. Hope shall open all paths, but you must choose the right one.¡±

    The headsman raised his axe.

    Spartan¡¯s mask fell away in his last moments, his calm facade giving way to eyes that blazed with light,

    ¡°There is no can¡¯t. Only won¡¯t. We are gods. Act like it.¡± He commanded.

    The sun ringed the corpse of the peaceful martyr and his blood anointed the faces of the hopeful.

    I witnessed something extraordinary that day. The people simply walked away. They didn''t rebel, they didn''t futilely throw themselves against impenetrable walls. They walked away, souls alit, back to their homes and families. Two years later the empire collapsed in a series of carefully orchestrated and executed events. Guards fell asleep on duty, lords had mysterious incidents, and the emperor choked on a fish bone. In the resulting vacuum, peasants rose up and the empire was quietly shattered into a dozen small kingdoms, freeing humanity from the threat of hegemons.

    The empire forged in such carnage and madness had met its end in the quiet action of ordered peasants. It was fitting.

    I pressed Spartan¡¯s path into his own constellation, one eternally orbiting Hestia¡¯s single star.

    Hope and its peace.

 23 - Obedience

    The world was no longer contained in a single small area. With the dissolution of Octavian¡¯s empire, people began to trickle away from the birthplace of man. New kingdoms were founded and new kings crowned. In the furthest reaches of the domains of man there was a small kingdom. Every facet of life in this kingdom was based on the idea of obedience. The shamans obeyed the stars and the kings obeyed the shamans. It was an intricate trickle-down, and it permitted no disobedience, no responsibility, no identity. That''s why the man who forged his own was so fascinating. All I have of him is his journal. He caused no great waves, made no great changes but he did accomplish something miraculous. He said no in the face of absolute authority. If only I could do the same.

    The Kanu¡¯tak kingdom was a peculiar place. Obedience was elevated to such a level that identity itself was a far-off dream. They were puppets dancing to the strings of the lifeless stars. I didn''t like them. They reminded me too much of my earliest failures. Emotionless and slow. Jaul was born a prince among them and grew up in their empty palace, full of empty people. But he was not empty. He dreamed and he thought and he spoke. And he was silenced. A kingdom of obedience had no room for new ideas. Obedience was conditioned in him, same as any other citizen, but he had a personality of his own, a path. Perhaps that''s what made me so interested in him. Humanity is a social creature, prone to following the lead of others. Manifesting the nature of one''s soul and finding one''s path is incredibly difficult, even in civilizations that actively encourage such things. To even approach such a thing in a society that suppressed individuality and freedom was an impossible feat. Jaul¡¯s path wasn''t grand like Micheal¡¯s nor endless like Adam¡¯s. Instead, it was one of simple gardening.

    He would walk among the farmers, learning their craft.

    ¡°Why do these plants grow?¡± He would ask.

    ¡°The will of the Stars, my prince¡± would come the reply.

    He found the answers unsatisfying and embarked upon a great journey.

    The creation of his own garden.

    He loved his garden more than life itself and he would experiment with crossbreeding plants long before anyone else discovered it was even possible. He recorded every experiment in a ragged journal he had found, and he recorded his life. The boredom of living with only hollow shells, the excitement of finding a new plant, the beauty of the rising sun. I watched as he sweated and worked and celebrated.

    One day, Jaul went outside to his plants, same as always, and immediately froze. Immediately before him one of the palace servants was curiously poking at one of his plants. She was around his age, with short black hair and coppery skin to match his own. That was where the similarities ended. She had pale blue eyes, to his rich earthy orbs, and was missing part of an ear. Most importantly, he saw the spark in her eyes, that glimmer of life that was buried so deep in the rest of the people here.

    He was still gaping at her when she saw him. Immediately her demeanor changed. The spark retreated and she quickly moved to bow to the 7th prince of the Kanu¡¯tak.

    ¡°How may I help the lord?¡± She recited mechanically.

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    Jaul managed to sputter out a choked ¡°What are you?¡±

    ¡°My name is Spenca, my lord.¡±

    ¡°No, WHAT are you? You are not like the rest. You¡¯re¡­like me¡±

    Icy blue eyes met coffee orbs and two paths intertwined.

    For that day going forward Spenca and Jaul were inseparable, gardening and talking for hours basking in each other''s company. I watched with curiosity as two souls danced through an infinity of puppets, defining themselves among nothing. It was fascinating. Over time, as was natural, love began to develop between them, a romance of soft kisses and hidden embraces.

    One day, as they held each other, Jaul spoke,

    ¡°I want to get married¡±

    Spenca immediately broke his grasp and stared at him with wide eyes.

    ¡°I know the difference in our stations¡± Jaul continued ¡°but how could I live without you? Tomorrow I will ask my father.¡± He paused, ¡°...If you want to.¡±

    Spenca gazed at him uncertainly, ¡°Are,¡± she swallowed, ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Jaul raised her face to his, ¡°More sure than I have ever been.¡±

    Spenca¡¯s uncertainty melted into a radiant smile, an expression of pure joy,

    ¡°Yes. Yes, I want to.¡±

    The next day found Jaul leaving the throne room, a distraught expression on his face, the final words of the king echoing through his mind.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Jaul returned to his garden and mechanically went about tending them. I watched him, his lifeless eyes, stiff movements, and the slow tears that ran down his face. He looked like a man who had given up, but I knew better. Those tears were not for Spenca. Inside a battle raged. The perfectly synced laws of obedience clashed with the vibrant life of plants. Law and authority pressed down upon them, assuming the mantle of divine fate itself. But life always found a way, evolving and growing to meet its new challenge. Man frequently thinks himself good, without understanding the meaning of such a statement. He states that he would cling to the same principles, no matter the situation, never pausing to think where he got those principles from in the first place. To be good is a measure of conformity. Few realize how much power their upbringing holds over them. And fewer still break those chains. Within his very soul, Jaul fought for his path. Life and growth fought with the obedience that made up his world. Evolving and growing to shatter the chains of civilization itself. Hardly any realize the magnitude of such a struggle, the bleeding rents it leaves in souls and minds, yet here was a young boy ripping his very soul to shreds for the woman he loved. Finally, the chains began to falter as understanding dawned on Jaul. He looked at his filthy hands, caked in dirt and fertilizer.

    ¡°Life obeys not the whims of man¡± he whispered, ¡°Why should I obey the commands of the celestial?¡±

    He looked at his garden with new eyes, seeing for the first time the disorder within its orderly rows. Reflecting on his incorrect hypotheses and his failed experiments. His path crystalized, a winding road of twists and turns, of life and death, of parents and children.

    ¡°The plants bow to nobody. Neither shall I¡±

    It was remarkable how just his plants alone granted him the insight to shatter the fetters of man.

    He lived true to his path, embracing life, in all its twists and turns. The spring bloom that brings life to the earth and the winter storm that scours it away. He married Spenca, and that night they danced through his garden to the blooming of the spring flowers. The next morning, the winter storm came.

    Both Spenca and Jaul were executed for disobeying the king.

    Actions have consequences and while the chains of civilization restrict man, they also ground him. Obedience is the essence of organization and it condemns those that know themselves.

    I spread Jaul¡¯s path into the plants he loved.

    The shackles of society bind the wills of the free.

    But life always finds a way.

 24 - Redemption

    Innocence is a myth. All men have stained themselves in one way or another, even me. We have all lied, we have all cheated and we have all killed. To recognize that terrible truth is a feat of note, but to atone for one''s sins? That is a feat of legend. Herek was a prince in his early days, drowning in excess of power and wealth. Then he awoke and he wept for his actions. For the money he could have fed his citizens with, and the excess that robbed him of his senses. He renounced his power and set off to atone. And atone he did. How can I?

    The stars shone bright, rays of radiance piercing through the dark skies. The wind danced with the rays, whirling between them with a dancer''s grace. It rushed forward like a herd of wild horses, proud and free. Over mountains, it traveled, snowy peaks and deep crevasses disappearing into the distance. Plains rustled under its onslaught and the oceans railed. Finally, it arrived in the domains of man, gathering their scents and sins. Iron blood and warm bread. Hot sweat and cold tears. In the distance a man stood on a hill, overlooking crowds of revelers, laughing as they drunkenly danced to the tune.

    ¡°More¡± he roared, ¡°More wine. More women. More food. Let the party rage for eternity.¡±

    The wind pounced upon him, drowning him in the majesty of the mountains, and the tears of the downtrodden. The blood of the damned and the sins of the mighty. The freedom of the plains and the chains of the prisons.

    Herek, prince of Advat, fell from his perch, cast low by hints of reality piercing his armor of revelry. He was never the same.

    Over the following months, I watched as the seeds of doubt planted by the wind were fed by brutal truth. Slowly but surely Herek slowly began to doubt the life he lived, and in response to that doubt, he threw himself into it with desperate passion, unwilling to let go of what had been his life for so long. It all came to its head on a cold windy night. The nobles partied with desperate fervor, striving to hide from brutal reality Herek was the most desperate of them all, throwing himself into the party like a criminal seeking to escape from the law. But no criminal can hide forever. That night the wind blew. Over the mountains and prairies, oceans and cities, it descended on Herek with vengeance. Surrounded by that twisting column of truth, Herek could no longer deny reality. He fell to his knees, tear streaming down his face,

    ¡°I repent!¡± he sobbed ¡°I was wrong! I was so wrong.¡±

    To him it was divine revelation, to me it was the bursting of a dam. The breaking of the veil of lies all humans tell themselves. They are all guilty, if they would just admit it. And on that night, Herek admitted it,

    ¡°I am guilty!¡± he cried ¡°I saw the truth and I continued to hide. Continued to sin!¡±

    Above him, the stars shone, but none so bright as Micheals. Perhaps that is what guided his next words,

    ¡°I have ruled instead of serving! I have closed my eyes instead of seeing. I have spoken instead of listening!¡±

    He was a man on the brink of breaking, shattered by the revelation of his true self. I intervened. It would have been a shame for one who had truly seen his failures to fall like that. I stretched out my will and touched the wind surrounding him, bringing different aspects of it to the forefront. Laughs instead of tears. Life instead of death. Joy instead of tragedy. Those truths caressed Herek¡¯s soul, keeping it from crumbling under the weight of its revelation. And accompanied by the winds of elation, he lifted his head in wonder.

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    ¡°Where I have brought death, I can now nurture life. Where I have brought blood, I can now bring laughter.¡±

    He laughed himself then,

    ¡°It is not over! I can redeem myself. I can atone!¡±

    He fell unconscious then, overwhelmed by his revelation.

    The next morning he awoke, ready to face the task ahead, but unsure of how to do so. He donned a simple cloak and left the palace, wandering the streets of his capital, Advant. He opened himself up to truths he had run from for so long. They came to him in a never ending rush. The sickness of the people. The manure filled the streets. The smell of rot and death. He fell to his knees in the street, retching as he was once more overcome with the magnitude of his failure. He felt a gentle hand on his arm as he was slowly lifted back to his feet. Before him stood an old woman, bent and stooped with age, but with clear eyes.

    ¡°Are you ok, stranger?¡± she questioned.

    ¡°I¡­I don''t know¡± Herek stuttered out.

    She gazed at him with an unreadable look,

    ¡°Come with me.¡±

    Herek followed her aimlessly through the streets, wincing at every starving child and injured worker.

    At last, they arrived at a simple shack and the woman sat him in front of a fire and brought him tea. She sat across for him and watched as he finished his tea.

    Then she said, ¡°Speak.¡±

    Herek broke and it all came spilling out. The life he had wasted and the people he had condemned. The wind and the terrible and wondrous things it had brought. His conviction to atone, and his uncertainty on how to do so. By the time he had finished the fire had burned low.

    The woman gave him another of those unreadable looks and got more tea for him.

    Then she started to speak,

    ¡°Doing good is much more simple than most think. It does not need to involve mythical quests to slay mighty beasts, or legendary feats like holding the sky up. If you want to do good, find a problem, and fix it.¡±

    ¡°What problems do I fix?¡±

    She smiled at him,

    ¡°There are more than can be counted. Just look outside.¡±

    She took his hand and guided him back into the streets.

    ¡°See the starving children and the unclean streets. The innocents dying of disease and the poor suffering from lack of education. All problems. All can be fixed¡±

    They walked through the city finding more and more things to fix. Herek felt a deep sense of shame well within him as he truly saw how much he had neglected his people.

    The old woman smiled wryly at him,

    ¡°I suspect you will have more of a problem with choosing which problems to tackle.¡±

    Herek looked at her for a long moment, then kneeled at her feet.

    ¡°I do not have the words to express my gratitude. What can I do to repay this debt?¡±

    ¡°Do good. That is payment enough¡±

    From that moment forward Herek never stopped doing good. His was a path forged not in a single moment, but rather through the sum of all his moments. He found problems, and he fixed them. And with every problem solved grew and changed. He left the world a better place, not through mighty feats of strength or immense cunning, but through hard work and dedication. And yet, legends were made of him all the same. Of a mighty king who single-handedly created roads and healed men. Taught children and comforted the old. In his final hours, surrounded by his family and loved ones, it finally came to him, the understanding he had spent so long pursuing,

    ¡°We are all guilty. But atonement is forever within reach.¡±

    That night Herek au Advat, king of kings, servant of the people, passed away with a clean consciousness and a peaceful mind.

    His legacy was pressed into the wind, an eternal reminder that when guilt crushes man, he always has a path to atonement.

 25 - A Enslaved People

    Defiance of divinity is encoded into my very blood. As is freedom from divine influence. The very concept of divinity, the essence of religion is a poison. An infestation that tempts man to surrender their actions. My ancestor, Jorhan an Erduk, recognized this truth. Recognizing the damning influence of the gods and their religions, he acted. Armed with god slayer, he intruded upon the Holy Wars and cut open new vistas, showing them the folly of their actions. Freedom and individualism are ideals to be protected at all costs. God¡¯s influence covers all creation, and we must be free of it if we are to survive. The many eyes of the lord watch our every movement, waiting for us to make a mistake. We must be ready for when he finds it.

    Jorhan an Erduk set down his tankard of ale with a disgusted sigh. Outside of the dingy tavern yet another boom shook the city as yet another massive boulder struck the walls. The other patrons in the tavern briefly flinched before getting back to their business. Namely gambling and drinking. Jorhan joined in, reveling in the dice rolling off his fingers, in casting fate with his own two hands. His pile of gold grew with every roll, swaying precariously with every dull impact upon the walls. Finally, his opponents had enough.

    ¡°Blessed by the gods, eh pretty boy?¡± a scarred man leered, ¡°Why don''t you share some of that luck.¡±

    Jorhan looked up at him sharply,

    ¡°My luck is my own. The gods have nothing to do with it.¡±

    ¡°No divine help, eh¡± he slurred, ¡°Then you must be cheating.¡±

    ¡°Tell you what,¡± he continued, ¡°Hand over that gold and I¡¯ll forgive those quick hands. If not¡­then maybe I''ll take them for myself. What about that!¡±

    He laughed boisterously and the men beside him joined in, casting greedy looks at Jorhan¡¯s gold. Jorhan took in the room, its dim lighting revealing the hard men and women that called the slums their home. A tapestry of hard lives and old scars. He saw the weight of their lives and he saw how they carried it. They surrendered it to the gods above. To me.

    Jorhan disdained that. To surrender one''s action was a surrender of responsibility and agency. All men are simply the sum of all their actions. If one owns none of their actions, what are they?

    The blade at his side hummed softly.

    God-Slayer was its name.

    And Gods it would slay.

    Jorhan slowly stood up, piercing the man with an azure gaze.

    ¡°Try.¡±

    The man drew himself up, drawing on his faith to strengthen him, drawing on the god he had sacrificed his life to. Only to find nothing.

    The blade¡¯s humming increased in intensity, a maddening backdrop to Jorhan¡¯s oppressive intent.

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    The man shrank back, his good humor abruptly vanishing as his god abandoned him. Cut out of his life, out of reach. He was nothing without it. The problem with being nothing, is that all resistance is futile in the face of something.

    ¡°Not so brave alone, are we?¡± Jorhan questioned cruelly.

    Nobody spoke a word.

    Jorhan snorted coldly and gathered up his coin. Nobody tried to stop him.

    Outside, he sighed into the cold night, watching the condensation lazily drift out of his mouth. Pitch-black hair seemed to meld into the dark night as he faced the dim stars.

    ¡°Why?¡± he snarled.

    As always, I said nothing.

    Time has always seemed ephemeral, especially to an eternal being like me. It had seemed like only yesterday I had conferred with the prophet, only yesterday I had danced with HER. Yet now HER descendant walked the earth with that cursed blade, fighting the prophet''s legacy. Or perhaps fixing it.

    In the wake of the prophet''s revelation and the age of gods, religion had sprung up. Like persistent weeds it had refused to be knocked down, growing into the monolith it was in Jorhan¡¯s time. There were dozens of churches, some big, some small. Ones dedicated to Hestia, others to Micheal, some to Sidon. Almost all the children of Adam had churches. But none were so large as mine. The prophet had done his work, and he had done it well.

    The people took to religion with surprising enthusiasm, eagerly casting themselves at the feet of supposed gods. They made religion their purpose, dedicating their lives to spreading it. I watched sadly as individualism and freedom were slowly eroded away by the march of blind faith. There was no need to forge paths when you could surrender all discontent to a god. Then the churches started to fight.

    It began as a local scuffle between the church of Micheal and the church of Heimdall. Then it spread. The world seemed to curl in on itself as men raised blades in the name of their gods. Eventually, it led to the siege of the City of Micheal itself, the ancient city offering legitimacy to those that could claim it. Legitimacy and access to the mountain of Adam, the valley of man¡¯s birth. I raged as I saw mindless obedience and destruction being spread in my name. But it was not my path to intervene. Another did it for me.

    Jorhan woke up to yet another boulder striking the walls. He yawned and rolled out of the raggedy bed, stretching as he went. The morning rays streamed through the nonexistent window, illuminating his tanned muscles. His black hair drank in the light, seemingly more void than hair.

    ¡°Another day, another disappointment. This city is not what I thought it would be.¡±

    The everpresent blade at his side hummed in agreement.

    ¡°Then it''s time to start.¡±

    He walked down to the common room, noticing the sudden hush in conversation as he appeared. He sat down at the bar and ordered,

    ¡°Smoked ham¡± he said, nodding at the barkeeper.

    The man dropped everything else as he rushed to the back to fulfill the order.

    Turning around, Jorhan questioned the common room,

    ¡°Anyone know where the Church of God lies?¡±

    The room was silent.

    ¡°Fine, I''ll find it myself.¡±

    Hours later Jorhan was still wandering the winding streets of the City of Michael, admiring the masterwork that had once marked man¡¯s dominance in this world.

    Now man was no longer dominant.

    Gods ruled here.

    The blade at his side hummed again, picking up on its wielder''s sorrow.

    Jorhan sighed,

    ¡°Was it so hard? To stand and accept your own actions? To hold your own fate?¡± he asked nobody.

    I heard his question all the same, and shared his sorrow. I had never wanted worshipers. Merely peers to share my wonder.

    Finally, Jorhan arrived at his ultimate goal. My church.

 25.2 - God-Slayer

    The doorway seemed to shudder as he stepped through, recognizing the presence of something antithetical to it. A shadow stretched across the room, narrowing until it was absorbed into Jorhan¡¯s body. The light spilled in from behind him, luminous in its promise of searing retribution.

    His every step was judgment, arrogant in its assumption of greater things.

    A hush fell over the crowd of worshipers, thousands strong, a drop of silence in a bustling city.

    Awaiting judgment.

    Jorhan had not come to sightsee. Indeed, the city of Micheal no longer held anything worth seeing. Merely remnants of what was. Of the men and women that had once strode these streets. Each a world unto themselves. How it should be.

    Jorhan had grown up listening to these stories. Stories of mad conquerors and transcendent martyrs. Insane prophets and mighty kings. He had been told the story of his ancestor, told the truth of my actions, as Angelica had seen them that day, and bestowed with the king of blades.

    God Slayer.

    He set forth into the world, excited to meet the paragons of humanity. Excited to challenge himself and step onto the greater stage.

    That excitement had lasted all of a week.

    The paragons he had set out to find were nowhere to be found. In their place he found a bunch of sniveling, WEAK, COWARDS, begging so-called ¡®gods¡¯ to take their pain.

    In the present, a child began to cry.

    No matter where he looked, all he found were shattered husks of people, hollowed out by life itself. Or as he saw it, hollowed out by me.

    The world was once brilliant, passionate, GOLD. Now it was cold unfeeling iron. Dull and lifeless.

    He raged.

    The child¡¯s crying stopped.

    Raged at the things he would never see. Raged that he had been born too late. Raged at me for my presumed role. Raged at the world for losing its shine.

    Finally, on a cold winter night, he had come to a simple conclusion.

    In front of him, a keeling giant had clutched an ever-burning flame, sustained by the power of its myth. Even long after his death, Spartan¡¯s flame of hope still burned. But on that night, Jorhan had observed it flicker in the snowy wind, a shadow of the raging pyre it once was.

    Jorhan had gazed at it with a sense of profound sadness,

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡± he had said, ¡°That the world has fallen to this.¡±

    Sadness turned to steel.

    ¡°I will fix it.¡±

    He had turned away, speaking words that would change history,

    ¡°The world was once gold. It can be gold once more.¡±

    The night had welcomed him into its cold embrace, snow swallowing his indistinct form.

    In the church of Me, the high priest stepped forward,

    ¡°W..What do you want?¡± he stuttered.

    ¡°Is this how the church treats its guests?¡± Jorhan replied.

    The man seemed taken aback, before taking a deep breath. I could feel him drawing upon his god, not me but rather the religion''s idea of me, taking a deep drink from that well of conceptual power. Immediately, he straightened up, composure returning to his frame.

    Jorhan felt it as well, flickers of rage appearing in his heart as a man dared to draw on false power in front of his very eyes.

    ¡°My apologies, honored guest, would you require help with anything?¡± the priest asked, as composed as could be.

    Jorhan snorted,

    ¡°The Archbishop. Bring me the Archbishop. I have a matter of great importance to discuss with him¡±

    The priest looked faintly suspicious,

    ¡°And what business is that?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°Discourse on the nature of god¡±

    A hint of anger flashed over the priest''s face, a flicker of discontent at Jorhan¡¯s arrogance.

    ¡°The nature of God is not a simple topic, and the Archbishop is not someone just anyone can meet. Do you have¡­ proof?¡±

    Jorhan looked around at the finery that surrounded him. A dome that reached into the far heavens, inscribed with delicate patterns of gold and silver. Grand stone walls, carved with intricate reliefs of divine beings accomplishing impossible tasks. Flickering light danced across the walls, shrouding the church in comforting darkness, a promise of greater things hiding in the soft shadows. Altogether it was a masterpiece of human ingenuity, a shrine to their endless potential. Dedicated to something not human. He looked at the once cowering humans, already shrouded in the strength of their god, in the dark shadows of ignorance and cowardice. Here in this place of worship, the shadows of divinity were all-encompassing.

    His only rage burned brighter, the sword at his side humming in furious agreement.

    Suddenly, he was massive, a looming figure of light and blades, of glorious rage. The torches flickered, some even going out as the full force of Jorhan¡¯s will spread out to encompass the church. The doors behind him burst open once more, surrounding Jorhan in a shroud of luminosity. God-Slayer¡¯s humming picked up volume as Jorhan fed it his path. Freedom, Independence, arrogance, responsibility, and a thousand other nuances poured into God-Slayer. From God-Slayer they become blades of light, piercing the thick shadows that shrouded the church in mystery. Revealing the truth. For a split second an invisible struggle took place, the brilliant light of Jorhan¡¯s path piercing further into the worshiper''s divine shrouds.

    Jorhan breathed in deeply, preparing himself.

    Then with a deliberate movement, placed his hand on the pommel of God-Slayer.

    The world was CUT.

    The searing light burned through the shadows in an instant, joyously rampaging through the church, revealing hidden truths and forgotten experiences.

    He spoke, his voice terrible to behold,

    ¡°I am Jorhan an Erduk, He who is beholden only to himself, wielder of God-Slayer, and I have come to save you.¡±

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    The people fell to their knees, cowering in the face of the resplendent light, crying out as it seared them with new ideas and old stories. Stepping into the light after ages in the darkness is always hard.

    Some of the guards made futile attempts to bar his path as he strode forward, toward the high altar. But in the end, they fell short. The problem with being nothing, is that resistance is futile in the face of something.

    The light followed as he walked, bathing the people in burning truth.

    Upon the altar, a man appeared. Dressed in regal robes and carrying a book with a single rune on the front, he raised his hand for silence. The cowering people calmed and the room dimmed. He looked down at Jorhan from his perch on the high altar.

    There was no doubt as to who this was.

    The Archbishop of God.

    One of the most powerful men in existence.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± he asked, his every word a divine command.

    The room darkened further as their god began to reassert his presence, using the archbishop as an anchor. Then it lightened again as Jorhan replied,

    ¡°I am the Chainbreaker.¡±

    The Archbishop''s face darkened, a promise of a coming storm,

    ¡°You would dare claim that title?¡±

    ¡°Why not? Your god was once known by that title before you stripped him of it. So I claim it.¡±

    ¡°You would dare put yourself on the same level as God himself¡±

    ¡°No. I would place myself higher¡±

    The blade at his side vibrated.

    The Archbishop''s face darkened further.

    Jorhan continued, azure eyes blazing,

    ¡°So long as God chains man to the earth, he is no Chainbreaker. So long as he steals the actions of man, he is not worthy of respect. So long as he exists, I shall not rest. Your god shall die and man will gain back their burden. Only then will the world regain its shine.¡±

    The Archbishop drew himself up in righteous rage, ideas becoming law through his words.

    ¡°A whelp like you cannot comprehend the power of god. He does not shackle us but rather raises us up. He does not steal from us but rather gives back. He gives us purpose and power.¡±

    ¡°But it is not your power. You are nothing without him.¡±

    ¡°We are great by the virtue of our essence. God only helps us refine that power.¡±

    ¡°NO¡±

    Jorhan¡¯s exclamation echoed through the room, deadly in its passion. This was a battle like no other, not of blades, but of something much deadlier. Rhetoric. A blade can kill a man, but rhetoric can end a nation. I watched with mixed feelings as one of HER descendants engaged divinity with such immense vigor.

    ¡°There is no essence,¡± Jorhan proclaimed, a vicious downward strike, ¡°All men must build themselves. That is a truth all men must bear if they want to come great. Only then can we ascend.¡±

    ¡°Ascension comes by the virtue of God. He will raise us into the heavens above.¡±

    ¡°Ascension comes from greatness.¡±

    ¡°And greatness comes from God¡±

    Deflection, correction, deflection.

    ¡°Greatness comes from understanding, and understanding comes from experience. God takes our actions, the responsibility, and the consequences. He takes their weight.¡±

    ¡°And saves us from the weight that would otherwise crush us¡±

    ¡°No. It cuts off the path to greatness. The full weight of an action must be carried for it is that burden that grants the understanding. Actions have consequences and all men must face those consequences.¡±

    Trust, ripost, denial.

    ¡°No man can carry that much weight¡±

    ¡°Wrong!¡± Jorhan exclaimed, soul alight, ¡°Each man is a world unto himself, and he can only be himself if he can bear his own weight.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible!¡±

    Correction, counter, retreat.

    ¡°This world used to be brilliant gold, a world where every man embraced, and nourished themselves. Now it is dull iron, a world where man whimpers in the corner, flinching at every footstep¡± his voice rose with every word, ¡°This world is damaged! Stripped of its glory by the gods we created to bear our burdens! I will not stand for this! What say you!¡±

    The Archbishop flinched at the power of his words, the mighty will and burning path both.

    ¡°This is madness! We will not submit to it!¡±

    ¡°Then begone!¡±

    Press, recoil, press.

    Jorhan¡¯s hand gripped the cool pommel of God-Slayer. Energy coursed through his very soul as he drew upon the very principles that defined his existence. He refused to be contained. Refused to be subsumed. Refused to surrender. Refused to accept. That refusal became his blade, a blade of scorching light. That light become God-Slayer,

    Time seemed to slow as Jorhan searched for the intended recipient of his blow.

    He scoured not the physical realm but rather the conceptual.

    An infinity of concepts abounded but he resolutely focused on the task at hand.

    Then he found it.

    In front of him was God, not me, but rather the god the people had created in their fervent worship. An amalgam of countless concepts and wills. It was not something Jorhan could cut down. But he could free those caught in its hold. With the realization, his sight expanded. No longer was the avatar of religion alone in void, but it was instead anchored in place by countless threads. Each a person. Leaching off them and drawing strength from their ignorance.

    Jorhan saw, and he raged. So he saw more.

    Thicker threads connected the god of my church to the gods of the others. One by one they appeared, resplendent representations of Adam¡¯s children. Burning figures of glory and passion. But fake. Constructs of mortal mind instead of eternal soul. The web grew expanding in scope until it filled Jorhan¡¯s vision. An indestructible web, inviolable even by the wielder of god-slayer.

    But that was ok.

    Jorhan was not here to end divinity. He was here to free the people.

    And he would.

    Because he raged.

    His rage became his strength, purpose turned power as his blade flashed brighter than ever.

    In churches around the world, a bright light began to stream in through all openings. Torches flared brighter and people lifted their heads away from reverent prayer. Lifted their heads from the earth and looked into the heavens above. They marveled at its beauty, even as new thoughts began to occur. They began to yearn for more, yearn to be more.

    Jorhan¡¯s grip on God-Slayer tightened, the terrified Archbishop seemingly falling back in slow motion as the blade began to radiate incandescent light, even through its steel sheath.

    He had his target, all that remained was the final step.

    Muscles tensed both physical and mental, bracing for the devastation to become.

    Slowly and all at once it happened. Muscles moved, contracting and relaxing as they guided energy through every single muscle in his body. At the same time, his mind and soul flexed infusing concepts into the blow, guiding it to its target, and imbuing it with his roaring rage and unyielding will.

    Jorhan CUT god out of the lives of mortals.

    In the physical world, it looked like a pinnacle representation of a sword cut, executed with a blade of pure light. It cut through the air like the sun cresting the planet, hitting nothing and at the same time touching everything. In the astral, the blade of purpose and will became a thousand, then a million, and with a single consummate flick, severed false divinity from humanity.

    A sundering.

    All around the world, the beautiful light that the people had been basking in struck. Where the people had been beginning to yearn for more, a single truth was, slowly and painfully, for change is never easy, seared into their souls. They could be more.

    The effect was immediate, and I watched from the heavens above as the world order was thrown over in an instant. The masses streamed out of the churches, alight with flames of inspiration and motivation. They were ready to bear the weight of their dreams. Around the great city of Micheal, the gates opened, and the opposing legions retreated, leaving hopeful people to once more stream into the cradle of kings. Religion would never be truly eradicated, and the truly faithful remained faithful, for god was their dream. But there was now freedom. No longer would religion be the only way to live, to survive. The possibilities abounded.

    In the church of me,

    Jorhan slowly sheathed his blade, trembling from the backlash. The blade of god was not meant to be wielded by mortals. Light streamed in through the windows illuminating his azure eyes, and being drunk in by his pitch-black hair.

    At long last, he had freed the people.

    He threw back his head and laughed a light joyous sound. It rang through the newly illuminated church, mingling with the surprised exclamations of the people.

    ¡°Finally, the wall is broken! Now it''s time to explore this new world!¡±

    He laughed some more, drinking in the warm sun-rays.

    ¡°The world was once gold! It can be gold once more!¡±

    He breathed in deeply, eyes flashing.

    ¡°AND! IT! WILL!¡±

    Jorhan spent the rest of his life basking in the dawn of a new golden age. He had freed the people and he got to witness the fruits of his labor. New paragons rising up and old stories being retold once more.

    Change comes only to those that will it.

    Iron can become gold, and darkness light.

    It is arrogance to assume one man can change the world.

    But sometimes, arrogance is needed.

 26 - New Lands

    The deepest of truths surround us on all sides, if only we would see them. Truths so deep a lifetime of contemplation wouldn''t even scratch their surface. Chris Columbo saw this reality, and even so he delighted in the search. A search that led to him finding the final continent of Earth, a discovery of such magnitude it heralded a new age. He faced the infinity around us with open eyes and didn''t shy away. Drowning in concepts so powerful they would drive any other man mad. A single man bearing the weight of eternity. A crucial strength to have. For only then can a man look upon HIM¡­

    Chris squinted at the stars and groaned.

    ¡°35 degrees starboard!¡± he bellowed, ¡°And somebody fix the goddamn last sail!¡±

    Around them the ocean roiled dangerously, refracting rays of starlight and turning the entire horizon into a confusing kaleidoscope of patterns.

    ¡°Damn it¡± Chris mumbled as they roughly crested another wave, ¡°Fernand! Take the helm!¡±

    He stumbled down to the captain''s cabin, cursing as the ship hit a particularly big wave.

    He burst through his cabin door just in time to catch a bottle of ink before it splattered all over his precious charts.

    ¡°Shit!¡±

    Then all the energy seemed to drain out of him, and he slumped into his desk chair, almost missing as the ship once again crested a wave.

    He had known from day one that this job was insane, but this was a bit much.

    ¡°Round world my ass¡± he muttered.

    But he was always searching. It''s what defined him, With every discovery he came a little bit closer to finding his treasure. But he was running out of places to search for. He wistfully turned his gaze to the leather bound journal next to his charts.

    ¡°One day¡± he sighed ¡°one day.¡±

    Then, groaning he took a swig of whisky from the metal flask on his waist. It slid down his throat like liquid fire, bringing wakefulness back to his tired form.

    With energy belittling his previous state he swept his desk clean and unraveled his charts. With one final wistful gaze upon the journal, he got to work.

    I watched from the heavens above as he drew closer and closer to the Earth¡¯s final frontier.

    The known continents had long been discovered and settled, with kingdoms springing up by the dozen to govern the vast lands. Yet for all they had accomplished, all they had discovered, the lands across the sea remained undiscovered. Until Chris.

    Upon that vast ocean, a ship cut through the raging waves like a blade parting flesh, wet spray flung to the sides. Upon the deck of the lone ship stood a man, glaring into the dark unknown as if he could part it through sheer will alone.

    Months passed and the ship drew steadily closer, homing in on the new land like an animal to a new scent. Eager and apprehensive all at once.

    Challenge after challenge fell before them. Towering waves that history would name Sky-Touchers and deep sea animals that it would name leviathans.

    Chris stood at the helm through it all, forever searching, and eventually, finding.

    One day, months into their journey, deliverance arrived.

    ¡°Land Ho!¡± yelled the man in the crowsnest.

    Chris laughed,

    ¡°Well, damn, looks like those desk-kissers were right after all!¡±

    I watched their first steps onto that sand, silently witnessing the discovery of Earth¡¯s final frontier. I was the only witness that understood the weight of the moment.

    ¡°I hear they got amazing food in the sunrise duchies¡± one man remarked.

    ¡°Forget the food! I hear their women are the most beautiful in the world!¡± another replied, ¡°If i could just¡­Ow!¡±

    ¡°Enough daydreaming¡± Chris chuckled, withdrawing his hand, ¡°We need to confirm we really are in the sunrise duchies. The charts¡­don''t match¡± he finished with a troubled look.

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    Then raising his voice he bellowed, ¡°Split into groups and see what you can find! Don''t wander too far!¡±

    ¡°Aye¡± came the answering chorus.

    Chris himself retreated to his cabin and opened his old journal. He sighed contentedly, breathing in the smell of old paper and fresh ink.

    ¡°He who is searching cannot be lost.¡± he whispered under his breath, seemingly without notice. Then, dipping his quill into the fresh ink he began to write. He wrote of his journey through the ocean, and of the challenges he faced. He wrote not only of the mighty waves and relentless winds, but also of the confounding fear, and his resolute will. He wrote of his findings, of new lands and newfound courage.

    I basked in the path he uncovered so diligently, finding new parts of my infinite self even as he uncovered new parts of his.

    Finally, a knock at the door interrupted his musings.

    ¡°Come in¡± Chris responded, quietly stashing his journal.

    Fernand entered looking nervous,

    ¡°Sir¡­I think you might be right¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°I don''t think we are in the Sunrise duchies¡±

    ¡°Chris frowned,

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°There is not a single sign of civilization everywhere and some of the plants and animals we have come across are¡­strange.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I have never seen their like,¡± then, dropping his voice to a whisper he continued,

    ¡°We found the skeleton of a massive monster, with ribs large enough to contain several men and horn sharp as a blade mounted on a massive skull.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure that isn''t something just native to the sunrise duchies?¡±

    ¡°I asked Frank, you know how he is with animals, and I swear by God himself I have never seen that man so excited. He just lept upon it and started babbling about how he was going to be famous. Something about a book.¡±

    Chris¡¯s frown deepened.

    ¡°At nightfall, I¡¯ll check the charts again.¡±

    Night fell and the charts only confirmed what some of the men had already realized. They were not in the Sunrise kingdoms. Months of frantic exploration and calculation followed as everybody pitched in to answer the burning question: where were they?

    I observed in amusement, waiting for the moment of realization.

    It came not in a single realization, but two.

    The first was a small group of sailors returning with the crucial information that the land they stood upon was no island. They had climbed the tallest mountain, and from the top beheld a new world. Familiar in the vitality of it all, but different in its untouched nature. This was land that had never seen the touch of man. The second was a discovery of the captain himself, devised not in the observations of man, but rather in the cold logic of numbers. They gathered before him to finally hear the answer to that burning question. I gathered with them, eager to hear of the conclusion the captain had reached. With burning eyes and a vicious smile, he announced his findings,

    ¡°We have made perhaps the most important discovery in all of human history. We have discovered a new land. And within it, we will be kings!¡±

    That night the men celebrated and cheered, and I celebrated with them. The world was almost discovered. I wondered what would come next.

    That night Chris lay awake, pondering the implications of their findings. He had put on a confident front for his men, but in the privacy of his own cabin he could admit he wasn''t certain. If this truly was a new land, they were in grave danger. The opportunity for new lands and resources of this magnitude would drive men to dangerous lengths. They would need to gather information and samples, little treats to throw the dogs off their scent. If they gathered enough, recorded enough, they wouldn''t be needed. And then they would be free.

    But he was feeling the itch. That unreachable tick that whispered warnings in his ear. It had been years since he had been in one place for longer than 3 months. That date was approaching. Dissonance loomed like a storm on the horizon. A division of astral and physical. And he was trapped.

    Chris didn''t sleep that night.

    The next morning, the work started. A comprehensive catalog of all new animals and plants led by the animated Frank. A detailed map of the geography of this new land, led by Fernand the first mate and cartographer. A dozen other small projects, from a search for intelligent life to a fossil dig all aimed to get as good an understanding of the land as possible. All meticulously documented. Chris himself drew upon his knowledge of star charts and math, pushing himself to his limit in an effort to complete his task as fast as possible.

    It was no use. The storm drew nigh.

    It arrived on a sunny day. Chris woke up feeling comfortable, feeling at home. He sleepily got dressed and stumbled out of his cabin, absentmindedly waving to the crew he passed.

    ¡°It''s a beautiful day in Nirvivan, isn''t it?¡± Fernand remarked as he walked up beside Chris.

    He said something else, but Chris wasn''t listening.

    ¡°Nirvivan?¡± he questioned, forcing his way through growing terror.

    ¡°Yeah, Nirvivan. We figured the land needed a name.¡±

    Chris heard him as if he was a thousand miles away, the air turning to molasses as his heartbeat thundered in his ear. He felt the blade looming like death itself. Aiming directly at the fatal split. He who is searching cannot be lost, but what of when he finds what he''s searching for? A gap. For all his life, Chris had matched his soul and his world. He was always searching in both. Searching his world for wonders and his soul for himself. A unity defined by the unending search. But for months his world had been stalling at this land. In that name, he saw an anchor dropping, a horrible lurch as his soul and world wretched out of synch. A man flying overboard at the sudden halting of his ship. A fatal gap, exposing himself to the cursed blade of pathbreaking dissonance. Names hold power, more power than most understand. And in that moment Chris faced the full power of such a name. It bound his world, and ripped his soul from it. He trembled, and without another world, dropped to the floor.

    The last thing he heard was Fernand shouting for the ship¡¯s doctor.

 26.2 - Infinity

    I had always loved Chris¡¯ path. A delicate dance of duality. Yin and Yang. Outside and Inside. He saw himself in the world and the world in himself. Constantly searching to unearth hidden truths of both. It¡¯s what made him such a brilliant explorer. He had a sense for the world, like how most have a sense for themselves. Because to him, there was no difference. It resonated with me. I had created the universe in my image, and as such its image was in me. Changing me even as I changed it. But such power comes at a price, and it was Chris¡¯ turn to pay it.

    He awoke to an unfamiliar world. What had once been as close to him as himself felt foreign, wrong.

    He groaned and sat up. Immediately he was struck with a vicious headache. The world narrowed as the unfamiliar world took to his head with a hammer.

    Then, an arm reached out and stabilized him,

    ¡°Relax.¡± said a rough voice.

    It was Shin, who was supposed to be their guide upon arriving in the Sunrise Duchies. He had been crucial in discovering that they were in a new land. He was an interesting man. His english was rough and unpracticed, tumbling off his tongue with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

    ¡°Breathe, In an¡¯ out.¡±

    Chris met his slanted eyes, surprised at the depth he saw. He had thought Shin a simpleton, prone to isolation and silence. How wrong he had been.

    He sat close his eyes and followed Shin¡¯s advice.

    Air slowly trickled into his lungs, spreading throughout his body like roots through the ground, nourishing and fortifying every inch of himself before being gently released.

    For a second he felt it again. His precious unity. Then reality crashed back to shatter his peace.

    Shin spoke again,

    ¡°Way broken. Need thought. Need rest.¡±

    Chris struggled with his emotions.

    Way Broken.

    Was this the end of his path? He felt so lost. Unbidden tears sprang to his eyes, unheading of his desperate attempts to quell them.

    ¡°Breathe.¡±

    And so he did.

    Breath after breath, the panic and fear and anger escaped him with every mouthful of foul air. Then he was empty. Of joy and despair. Anger and empathy.

    ¡°Good¡± came the voice.

    Chris let it wash over him. He was empty.

    ¡°Sleep. Dream. Answer come to you. Dao is endless. Path continue. You just need find way.¡±

    Chris fell into a deep sleep accompanied by Shin¡¯s soft words.

    He dreamed that night.

    Of a place where there was always more to discover. Layer after layer was peeled back, only to reveal the layer underneath. An endless dreamscape of thread, connecting all of creation into a web so intricate it defied comprehension. Reality was malleable here, a land of suggestion rather than law. Above it all loomed a closed eye. Then it was half-opened. Then closed. Chris stopped thinking. And looked. It was Shin¡¯s eye. And within it was infinity, a sea of thread stretching out to destinations unseen. Chris screamed, in exaltation of terror he didn''t know. This was the onslaught of infinity, all within a single eye. It opened fully, an iris of infinite colors contrasting a pupil of all-consuming black. Reality broke with a thousand sounds. Chris awoke.

    The sun shone overhead, searing him with its light. He lay on a pile of blankets in the middle of the sandy beach. The water gently lapped the shore, providing a backdrop to the picturesque scene. The world was even stranger than before, but that unfamiliarity was comforting now. Chris felt as though all he saw was merely a veil over something deeper. The intense feelings of rejection and dissonance faded slightly as he began to ponder the feeling of the veil. It almost felt like there was more to explore, like his search hadn''t actually stalled. He was close, but it wasn''t enough.

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    He growled in frustration, but at the same time, the thrill of the search began to creep upon him. The dissonance faded even more.

    Chris stumbled to his feet and began to haltingly make his way to the command tent on the beach. With every step his footfalls firmed and his stride gained purpose. He had grasped his prey and it would not escape. It was not his usual prey of new places and lost artifacts but rather a hint of an idea. An idea that would make him whole once more.

    He burst into the tent like a man possessed. Everybody in the tent turned with wide eyes. He stated his intent.

    ¡°We go to the highest mountain.¡±

    And so they did.

    It was a difficult journey, only made worse by Chris¡¯ lacking sense of balance. That preternatural sense of the world had been stripped from him and he struggled without it. But with every step he took, he healed a bit more.

    Sometimes things must be destroyed so that they can be rebuilt stronger. I have ample experience with such things. Each destruction strips a thing into its base components, revealing its essence to the world. And from the ashes something greater can be built. Chris saw the essence of his path in its breaking, and he found it lacking. So atop the shards he forged something greater. A mad dream, manifested from the eye of infinity. Yet reachable all the same.

    Finally, they reached the top of that peak in the dead of night. Exhausted they crawled into their bedrolls, awaiting the sun to illuminate the truths they had traveled here to seek.

    Within his tent Chris pondered the fruits of his labor. A conception of a path, a unity of man and world. But no longer limited to entirely new places and ideas. This conception would properly account for their depth as well.

    I will admit I found his conception beautiful. It was not powerful enough to sunder empires or potent enough to raise armies. But it was elegant and creative. A path worth forging.

    But he had run into the same problem I had so long ago. It was static, lacking the core concept to animate it.

    It had once been the search. That glorious seeking of new things, new places, and new people. ¡°But I have seen it all.¡± Chris murmured, ¡°If only I could search within that great eye¡­¡±

    He came to a conclusion then. Infinity itself would power his path, that depth that belittled all else. He only had to find it. And he would, no matter how long it took.

    At the time he had no idea how close his deliverance was.

    The next morning Chris woke up to the luminosity of the rising sun. He walked outside, and was struck dumb by the sight before him. An endless forest stretched out, like a sea of green. The vibrancy of it struck Chris even from the top of the mountain, filling him with a sense of limitless eternal LIFE. The ages would pass, full of disasters and tragedies but life would go on. Forever. Deja Vu struck him like a physical force, driving him to his knees. Tears welled to his eyes as he realized his source. The great eye. The forest gave the same sense of infinity as the great eye. An eternity was not enough to unearth all the secrets of this mythical place. Chris wondered how it was possible for something mortal to contain Infinity. A bolt of lightning streaked out from the clear sky and caressed his face. I watched confusion turn to understanding, loss to power.

    The forest was not unique. The threads of connection bound all things, inanimate and animate in their boundless web. And if everything was connected, then¡­

    ¡°Everything contains infinity¡± Chris whispered in awe.

    Within him a conception became real, shedding its state of fiction and wrapping Chris in the warm cloak of its presence.

    To Chris the world changed. The mundane was no longer ordinary but rather a window into something greater. Infinity surrounded him, tempting him with whispers of its uncountable secrets. Madness lurked at the edges of Chris¡¯ vision. Only held back by what such possibilities represented. A search that would never end.

    The drive of that eternal search spread throughout Chris, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He exhaled it and inhaled it once more. He breathed infinity like a normal man breathes air.

    The world snapped back into focus, once more becoming an extension of himself, and he an extension of it. But so much closer now.

    Chris tilted back his head and began to laugh.

    ¡°How blind I was!¡± he roared with laughter, ¡°I finally see!¡±

    His men woke up one by one and joined him, looking confused over his roaring laughter.

    Finally, Chris calmed down enough to speak.

    He faced the rising sun, and closed his eyes, tilting his visage to the light.

    ¡°The Search Begins.¡±

    His search continued till the day he died, a long dance of new and old things alike. He led numerous expeditions into Nirvivan, paving the way for society and civilization within those long untouched wilderness. Yet even as his passing revealed the mysteries of a place, it had a way of making it seem even more profound, deeper. He revealed the infinity in things, bringing out their infinite potential and guiding them to higher things. Setting them on their search. In the end he died with a smile on his face, an old man, deep in the unknown woods where an old man had no right to be. He looked up at the sky, seeming to see through the dense canopy above him and smiled.

    ¡°There is infinity in everything¡­ including me.¡±

    Upon his death, his path needed no help to infuse itself into the deep woods, and unexplored places. Guiding those that found themselves seeking adventure and knowledge. Guiding that eternal search.

    Life is capable of stunning diversity, able to walk the myriad of paths.

    But before any path can be walked.

    It must be found.

    The search never ends.

 27 - A New Way

    The merciless march of time continued and the great cycle of life with it. Kingdoms rose and fell in a seemingly endless path. The age of exploration had ended, and the era of war, the age of darkness, was dawning. The world had become static, locked in endless conflict. Jazarin the Inventor changed that. Born in a small kingdom, his inventions shifted the paradigm of existence. No longer was life purposeless and static, but rather its purpose was now progress, and it moved and changed, as life should. He sparked the race toward the end, reigniting the fading embers of humanity. The race we still run in today. A single man realigning the very definition of life, guiding it to its final paradigm. Just as I must do.

    My children had grown. They now occupied every continent on the verdant planet I had created for them. I watched in satisfaction as they finished the monumental task of exploring the world. They had come so far from Adam¡¯s simple shack. However, at the same time¡­I worried. Exploring the world had become their purpose, and now that the task was complete, I wondered what was next.

    As I watched, my worries proved themselves true. Now that there was nothing to explore, a new purpose was found: War, and I watched in horror as it consumed the world. Soon even the purpose of war was lost, and life descended into an endless cycle of death and vengeance. I will not lie, upon witnessing the destructive behaviors of humans, I considered destroying them in turn. Their purpose was to create and eventually ascend. Their actions showed the opposite. Progress stopped in the name of pride. Cities burning in the face of arrogance.  Angelica¡¯s last words kept me in check, but the growing void within begged for the end. It was fed with the actions of man, greedily drinking up the essence of death and nihility, opening up old wounds that had yet to heal. Darkness descended upon humanity, and all seemed lost.

    Then the sun rose.

    Jazarin was born in a small village bordering the City of Michael, within the kingdom of Royals. He grew up poor, struggling to help feed his small family. His oldest sister had been born missing a leg, and the poor family struggled to make enough. As a child, Jazarin tinkered with anything he could get his hands on, to his mother''s chagrin. His tinkering paid off, and at only 6 years old he proudly presented a prosthetic leg, made of woven grass and wood, to his sister. From then on he didn''t work in the streets but instead created things to sell. Basic inventions like improved plows for farming, and water-carrying screws, but hugely successful all the same. He gained a reputation in the village for being able to fix anything. He spent the next 10 years of his life in that village, quietly fixing and creating things.

    One day, an old man showed up in the village with his horse. Dressed in long azure robes far too clean for Jazarin¡¯s humble village, he pulled out one of Jazarin¡¯s inventions, a tool for weaving wool, and asked about its origin.

    The villagers pointed him to Jazarin, and the old man limped down the dirt road to find Jazarin tinkering with a strange wooden machine.

    ¡°Jazarin is your name, right?¡± the old man questioned, ¡°I am Abelin su Darkan, vice-chancellor of the University of Hephas. I have seen the things you have created, and I would like to personally invite you to the University. We think we could accomplish great things with your help.¡±

    Jazarin didn''t answer, simply continuing to tinker.

    Abelin continued,

    ¡°Of course, your family is welcome to come to the city with us and we will give them a generous stipend to live off of.¡±

    Jazarin remained silent,

    Abelin squinted at the tinkering youth,

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    Still no reaction.

    Finally, Abelin cleared his throat forcefully.

    The result was immediate.

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    Jazarin jumped,

    ¡°What?! I didn''t do it! I''m sorry!¡±

    Abelin cleared his throat once more,

    ¡°Why don''t we go inside? I have something I want to discuss with you."

    Jazarin, having no reason to refuse, agreed to go to the University with the old man.

    The villages bled past like droplets on a window as the miles disappeared under them. Finally, they arrived at the great walls. Jazarin was entrapped by their majesty and construction.

    ¡°This is stunning¡± He commented to Abelin, ¡°Did the University build this?¡±

    ¡°The one time they actually listened to us,¡± Abelin replied proudly.

    However, as they continued through the gates and into the cities, Jazarin frowned.

    ¡°Why is everything so¡­ basic?¡± he articulated ¡°The buildings are badly constructed, the people are doing everything by hand, and we have more useful tools in our small village.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Abelin hedged ¡°That''s one of the reasons we brought you here. We need help.¡±

    ¡°With what?¡±

    ¡°Everything. Oh, look we¡¯re here¡± he replied, waving at a medium sized building with a small dome on the top.

    This is it? Jazarin thought.

    Abelin, seeing his skeptical expression, coughed awkwardly,

    ¡°Well¡­ education and invention are not exactly priorities around here¡± he grumbled ¡°All they care about is war. War! For what! It has been so long we¡¯ve all forgotten! All they do is fight and fight and fight never bothering¡­¡± he noticed Jazarin¡¯s raised eyebrow at his rant and quickly changed directions,

    ¡°...Anyways, that''s what we need help with. Getting the attention of the nobles.¡±

    ¡°You have my attention¡± Jazarin joked.

    Abelin snorted and handed the reins of their horses to a nearby groom.

    ¡°You see,¡± he started, leading Jazarin inside, ¡°For centuries now, the kingdom of Royals has been caught in a war with our neighboring kingdom of Roma.¡±

    He pushed open a broad door, painted with constellations, and led Jazarin into a large library.

    ¡°Nobody even knows what the war started over anymore. All we know is that Roma is supposedly our enemy and we must destroy them at all cost. And we have been trying for centuries with no success.¡±

    Jazarin frowned, ¡°That''s¡­ stupid.¡±

    Abelin sighed, as he led them to 2 chairs in front of a merrily crackling fireplace.

    ¡°Indeed it is my boy. Progress stopped in the face of worthless war. Lives thrown away when they could reap the rewards of technology. The purpose of existence has become war. Nobody lives for pleasure or even simple happiness. Only for war.¡±

    He sighed again, taking a deep swallow from the cup of warm tea that had just been delivered to him.

    ¡°That''s what I want your help to change. I want to stop these stupid wars. I want to stop these centuries of societal and technological stagnation. We can do better! We can be the ones they will speak about in a thousand years! This could be our legacy boy, life and progress!¡±

    When he spoke so passionately, his ancient body seemed to fill with life, his eyes kindling with fire.

    Jazarin hesitated, ¡°...And why do you need me?¡±

    Abelin got up and started pacing around the chairs,

    ¡°Because you have talent, boy. Much more than anyone here. I have seen the things you have created, even with no training. Now, Imagine it. Your talent and my experience. We could create wonders! Wonders that the nobles would finally need to acknowledge!¡±

    He was speaking passionately now,

    ¡°See all of this¡± he waved his arm at the massive library, ¡°This is only a fraction of what we have accomplished with virtually no funding. Imagine what we could do with more! We could change the world. Cure illnesses. Feed the hungry. Save the doomed.¡±

    He got up and kneeled before wide-eyed Jazarin¡¯s chair,

    ¡°We could engrave our names in the pages of history itself,¡± he entreated softly, ¡°and raise up others so that they may do the same. For too long has humanity stagnated. We could be the torch to ignite the fading embers of progress and nurse it back into a raging fire. The world is in our hands if only we can seize it.¡±

    He extended a hand to Jazarin, who looked at it in wonder. This was his chance. To create marvels and make an impact. To reach beyond himself and touch something eternal, and perhaps¡­ to create something eternal.

    Two hands met, one old and wizened with wisdom, and one young and calloused with genius, and the course of the world changed.

    I watched from my perch high above, and upon witnessing the earnestness and conviction of the two creators, I smiled.

    The morning sun shone over a new city.

 27.2 - Progress

    Abelin and Jazarin began their work in earnest the next day. Abelin set about teaching Jazarin every bit of wisdom he had managed to amass in his long life, and Jazarin absorbed it like a sponge. They were inseparable, Abelin the father Jazarin never had.

    The fruits of their labor were gradual at first. A new type of plow that cut planting time in half. A specialized loom for weaving cloth. A machine for mathematical sums. Slowly but surely, their inventions began to gather traction in the city that had been the same for too long.

    I smiled as I saw the cogs of a long-dead machine begin to turn once more. They groaned and cried but turned all the same.

    Five years passed, and the city was born anew. Production had soared with the inventions of Jazarin and Abelin, and prices had reached an all-time low. The nobles began to take note as decreased prices and better-quality armaments began to aid in the war effort.

    Eventually, the king traced the root of these changes and invited Jazarin and Abelin to an audience.

    They stood in front of the vast doors shielding the throne room.

    ¡°Ready old man?¡± Jazarin questioned,

    ¡°More ready than you,¡± Abelin chuckled.

    They stood in silence for a time, decked head to toe in the finest silks and jewelry.

    ¡°Is this it?¡± Jazarin asked, ¡°The moment we¡¯ve worked so hard for? Is this the moment that will define us?¡±

    Abelin pondered that, then slowly responded,

    ¡°I would hesitate to define the lives of an infinitely complicated human by a single moment. We are defined by the sum of all our moments. But this is where that sum has led us. Stand tall boy. We enter with Hephas himself at our backs.¡±

    The doors swung open and they entered a luxurious throne room. At the end of a long hall of delicate paintings and intricate tapestries sat the king on a throne of gold. He was middle-aged, with hints of gray in his dark hair and hints of fat on his lean body. Ever a warrior his eyes pierced them with the weight of authority. As they reached the foot of his throne he finally spoke,

    ¡°I have seen the inventions you have spread among the people. Why?¡±

    A simple question, yet infused with the will of one who had seen beyond the veil of civilization. One who had seen in the wake of the reaper¡¯s scythe.

    I watched nervously as a quiet battle for the fate of my creation took place.

    Abelin defended,

    ¡°Milord, for too long has our society stagnated, slave to war. For centuries man has lived the same short, brutal life. We have seen a way to surpass that. To raise man above the clouds that have hovered overhead for so long. A way for man to seize his own destiny.¡±

    Jazarin stepped forward,

    ¡°Our inventions have revolutionized the way people live. Crop yields have reached all-time highs, production has skyrocketed past previous limits, and quality of life has increased several fold.¡±

    ¡°Quality of life?¡± the king questioned.

    ¡°A measure of how well a man lives their life, Milord¡± Abelin replied.

    Jazarin continued,

    ¡°And this is with the minimal funding we have. In fact, most of it came out of our own pockets. We would ask for more funding. If we could accomplish so much with the little we had, imagine what we could accomplish with more. We could shatter the chains that bind us. No longer will man be a slave to nature, we will rule it. No longer will man be a slave to fate, we will control it. You are the king, bestowed with the power to rule this kingdom, bestowed with the power to better it.¡±

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    ¡°So better it.¡± Abelin smoothly finished.

    The king was teetering on the edge. He could sense the change this represented and he was unsure if he wanted to follow through. The measure of a man is not the easy decisions but the hard ones. The ones where his comforts are pitted against the great unknown. King Richard of Royals was a warrior, and where the battle was the hardest was where he proved himself.

    ¡°You shall have the funding. I look forward to what you can do with it.¡±

    Jazarin and Abelin barely maintained their composure as they left the castle. They burst into wild cheers as soon as they got to their office.

    I cheered with them

    The following years were filled with excitement and expansion as discovery after discovery was made. The university expanded massively and accepted more and more pupils. Abelin and Jazarin acted as Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor respectively. I watched those golden years with fondness. Science after science was discovered and advanced as books and ideas from faraway nations and ancient times poured into the University. The desire for knowledge was infectious and it soon spread across the world, dimming the flames of war everywhere. A massive web of connected universities and individuals was created through messenger pigeons and other mediums of transportation. It was as if all of those centuries of stagnation had caught up at once.

    I was happy. Finally, the cogs were turning, and Humanity was advancing once more, this time building up, instead of exploring around.

    Twenty years passed in the blink of an eye and the world no longer looked the same. Oil lamps adorned every street and surpluses decorated every market. The universities shone the brightest of all, shining beacons of knowledge banishing the darkness of ignorance.

    In the Great University of Jazarin, as it had come to be called, Jazarin sat at the bedside of a dying Abelin. Slow tears ran wound down his cheeks as Abelin forced his eyes open for the last time.

    ¡°It''s alright boy. I lived for far longer than I should have. We did it. We changed the world.¡±

    ¡°But do you need to go?¡± Jazarin replied sadly.

    ¡°There comes a time in every man¡¯s life when he must leave this world.¡± he locked eyes with Jazarin, ¡°I will leave far better than most.¡±

    ¡°We will remember you¡­Old man¡±

    They smiled at each other.

    ¡°Remember boy, the plans. If this works then the world will never be the same.¡±

    ¡°I know. I will finish them.¡±

    ¡°And Jazarin?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Abelin?¡±

    ¡°I love you, boy.¡±

    Those were his last words.

    I cried with Jazarin. Abelin had been a shining example of humanity. A man who had forged his own path through the world. And what a path it had been.

    I pressed his path into the stars he had spent so long studying.

    But I could tell something was missing.

    His other half, who was currently obsessing over their last plans together.

    Jazarin walked to a hidden workshop, smiling sadly at the fireworks bursting above his head. It was fitting for Abelin to be remembered in such a fashion. He had been brilliant, just like the fireworks he had created.

    When he arrived, he laid the blueprints across the table.

    It was time for him to work.

    A month later, Jazarin stood before a panel of the most powerful monarchs in the world.

    With a single sure tug, the cloth flew off the contraption behind him. He faced the monarchs proudly,

    ¡°I call it a steam engine, and it produces electricity.¡±

    Queen Gloren of Frald stepped forward for a closer look,

    ¡°What is this¡­Electricity used for?¡±

    The smile on Jazarin¡¯s face grew wider,

    ¡°Everything.¡±

    The world was never the same. Jazarin freely distributed all his knowledge and inventions and made sure others did the same. He was a shining example of a creator. A mind with no equal. In the short seventy years he lived, he heralded more progress than every other age combined. I had lost hope in humanity, but he rekindled it. Perhaps, if one such as him could be human then humanity was worth keeping. The cycle of violence was nigh unbreakable shielded by rage and vengeance yet he shattered it with his mind alone. He took the static machine of humanity and fixed it.

    When he died the world seemed to weep. I remember his last words as clearly as if they were yesterday,

    ¡°Progress is our purpose. Progress far enough and even the firmament of heaven shall break before us. Never stop.¡±

    I wept with the world. I would have welcomed him as a brother if only he could have taken that last step.

    I pressed his path beside Abelin''s, the two finally locking together in completion once more.

    They were immortalized not merely in the books of man but also in the vault of heaven.

    The light of their genius shining from both the memory of man and the light of the stars.

    Forever spurring progress to its ultimate goal.

    Infinity.

 28 - The General

    Corruption is power, and power is corruption. These are fundamental truths of man. To seize power requires mighty intent, and those with such intent never surrender it. Except for one. John Nivan was a man of the people, a proud son of Nirvivan. He rose to absolute prominence, seizing back his fertile lands from the greed of foreign nations. He held it all in his hands, the land of a nation, the power of a king, and the adoration of the people. And he gave it all away. To the people he could have ruled. An impossible first step. He maintained himself in the face of absolute power. I must do the same.

    Two men faced each other under the hot sun. Dust swirled around them, the silence occasionally pierced by the sharp cries of an eagle.

    ¡°Surender. There is no more running.¡± the man on the right said, fingering the pistol at his hip. His brown leather boots shifted as he prepared to draw.

    The man on the left only snarled, his visage a riticus of anger.

    It happened in an instant. The man on the left drew as fast as lightning. Gun rising to face his foe.

    It had nearly gotten halfway there before he collapsed, a bullet hole right between his eyes.

    John Nirvan, Sunshot, blade of the people, blew away the gun smoke lazily drifting from the tip of his pistol, and turned back to town. All in a day''s work.

    An hour later, the door to the Rusty Hog tavern burst open, revealing a dark silhouette against the brilliant sun. The raucous clamor within died down at the immense shadow cast by the stranger. The tavern''s inhabitants shied back as he walked past them to sit at the bar.

    ¡°Whiskey. Straight outta the bottle.¡±

    John eased himself into the chair, wincing at the soreness long riding inevitably brought. Behind him, the whispering started up.

    ¡°It''s Sunshot¡±

    ¡°What''s he doing here¡±

    ¡°Think he caught wild willy?¡±

    ¡°Of course he did fool! It''s Sunshot!¡±

    It has forever been fascinating to me how humans idolize others. Always seeking someone to look up to. They seem to crave it, unaware that their heroes are no different from them. They make men larger than life, unheeding of their mortality. Perhaps it was to prove to themselves that man could indeed become great, or perhaps it was so that they could safely rest in the shadows of these titans. Whatever the reason, those they idolized were powerful.

    And John was one of them.

    John didn''t grace any of the comments with an answer, quietly sipping his whiskey, and eventually, the conversation drifted away into other topics.

    ¡°More taxes¡­¡±

    ¡°And we can''t even say no!¡±

    ¡°What king? Not ours certainly!¡±¡¯

    The increasing tensions between the great nation of Frald and the increasingly discordant territories of Nirvivan had been all the rage lately. They taxed the colonies like they wanted to suck them dry of wealth. Of course the proud sons of Nirvivan fought back, disobeying orders when possible and maliciously complying when not. Out here, in the wilds, they boasted about fighting back and dreamt of an independent nation. One where they didn''t need to bend the knee to every passing foreign noble. They didnt know how close they were to getting their wish.

    John continued to sip his whiskey, following the flow of the conversation, understanding the stance of the people. He felt their rage, their fear, and finally, their helplessness.

    They were being chained, and violated. Forced to kneel.

    He was their blade, and he would not allow such a transgression.

    It¡¯s time.

    He slowly stood up, feeling the silence return to the tavern. He turned and surveyed the people before him. They looked at him with a mix of fear, respect, adoration and a thousand other emotions. They looked at him as if he were something more than human. All men are the sum of their action, and John¡¯s made him something mighty indeed. Their time would come soon.

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    ¡°The winds of freedom blow. Prepare yourselves. The storm comes.¡±

    And with those words, he left.

    Days later, he rode, accompanied by the full moon, into a bustling city. Wide cobblestone paved streets escorted him through the city, illuminated by bright gas lamps. The colorful and varied buildings piercing the sky were decorated with signs of life. A drop of water splashed him from a wet clothesline above. It never ceased to amaze him how much life was in this city. Rashek was a city of immigrants, and it showed. Various forms of architecture and life met and clashed, creating wonderful mixtures and fascinating intrigues. But now was not the time to explore. He had a mission.

    The winding roads grew wider and even more magnificent as we approached the center of the city. The colorful and wild architecture of the outskirts yielded to more graceful stone buildings, built in the image of ancient Royal architecture. He started to draw looks as he moved deeper into the heart of the city, his wide-brimmed hat and tight leather hat drawing even more attention than his hard-tanned face and vivid orange eyes.

    Finally, he arrived at his destination, the assembly building. The lights still shone from elegant windows, revealing to all that the assembly was in session.

    Taking a deep breath, he rode Nelly, his faithful horse, all the way to the stairs.

    The guards stepped forward to stop him as he dismounted, but one look at his orange eyes stopped them. Even here his name carried great weight. They let him pass without a word.

    As he approached the assembly, whispers of their argument reached his ears.

    ¡°This cannot go on!¡±

    ¡°We are nothing in front of Frald! Do you want to die?¡±

    ¡°Some things are worth dying for! I won''t take this disrespect!¡±

    ¡°Order! Order I said!¡±

    The door opened silently as he entered the room full of shouting politicians. Almost all were wearing some form of a frilly suit, though some wore more practical clothes, and they were currently engaged in a intense shouting match as Tomas Jeffington, the assembly judge and scribe, struggled to keep them under control.

    ¡°Order! ORDER!¡±

    It was to no avail and the shouting continued. Until they saw John. One by one the voices died down upon witnessing the tired legend until all fell silent. The flickering light from the gas lamps merged with John¡¯s orange eyes, setting them alight.

    Tomas was the first to speak,

    ¡°John. Why have you come?¡±

    They were probably reflecting on the last time he had come here, a misadventure which had not ended well for them.

    John spoke, a deep bass that resounded through the chamber,

    ¡°Frald¡¯s actions have become increasingly bold, and the common people are beginning to suffer. Something must be done.¡±

    The room almost erupted into shouting again, quelled only by a glare of John¡¯s shining eyes. Even here his ethos held strong, his past feats acting as his power.

    ¡°Tomas,¡± he commanded, ¡°Tell me what''s been going on here.¡±

    The young man, the youngest judge in the history of the assembly, quickly gathered his wits and spoke,

    ¡°We have noticed the same thing. Frald¡¯s demands have become increasingly tyrannical. Why, last week they massacred nearly 20 innocent peasants! We cannot abide by such insults. The people clamor for freedom, and I support them in this pursuit. That''s what this assembly was founded for! To that end I have drafted a declaration. A declaration of independence. Yet some ignorant fools still want to remain Frald¡¯s lap dogs.¡±

    ¡°How dare you! Do you know wh¡­¡±

    A glare from John silenced him.

    He considered the document, peering curiously into its essence, measuring its worth.

    It was a declaration of independence and therefore a declaration of war. It would be costly, but something had to be done. The cycle needed to be broken.

    He looked to Tomas,

    ¡°Have they shown any indication of backing off? Any indication at all?¡±

    ¡°No¡± Tomas replied grimmly.

    Tomas nodded, expecting such an answer.

    ¡°Then we must fight.¡±

    This time even his ethos was not enough to silence the room.

    Tomas was red faced by the time he got everyone back under control.

    ¡°Now,¡± he panted, ¡°If anyone wants to bring up a dissension, do it in an ORDERLY manner.¡±

    For a moment there was silence, then somebody in the back shouted out,

    ¡°Why are we even listening to the dirty peasant?¡±

    In an instant 56 pairs of eyes and a pair of brilliant suns pierced the young man with deadly force. He shrank back, sweat breaking out on his forehead,

    ¡°...never mind,¡± he stuttered.

    ¡°Any actual questions?¡± Tomas quickly continued.

    The debate lasted for hours, and in the end, John¡¯s ethos was enough to sway the vote.

    On that day, history was made.

    Nirvivan declared independence from Frald.

    And John Nirvivan, Sunshot, blade of the people, was unanimously elected high commander of Nirvivan¡¯s forces.

 28.2 - Ethos

    John awoke with a start, brushing off his covers and rolling out of bed. For a minute he simply stood there, panting in the moonlight as the old memories slid off of him. Finally, with a tired sigh, he began to get dressed. He wasn''t as young as he had once been. Still, as he got dressed, fragments of his dreams came back to him. To him, dreams were merely relived memories, not the fragments of a wild imagination. His life was absurd enough.

    Sunshot they called him. He was like the sun, his coming seen from a thousand miles away, yet unstoppable all the same. He was radiant, illuminating the downtrodden and shedding light on their plight. He still remembered his youth, a time of passion and adventure, yet merely a seed of what he had become. He was tired. Tired of the men that treated him like a god, tired of bearing the immense weight of his own ethos. But he still had a duty. And he would do it.

    The crisp night greeted him with a smattering of twinkling stars overhead. The moon was not present tonight. He slowly walked through the streets, shielded from the biting cold by his long fur coat. As he observed the sign of life even in the dead of night, flashes of his own came to him. Of a cold orphan, struggling to survive in a world that didn''t care. Of a young man, passionate and hotblooded, eager to prove himself. A middle-aged man, still passionate and strong, yet armed with a growing sense of understanding. He watched his life play out in the empty streets of Rashek. A trail of adventures and impossible feats, stories that had become myths and legends. He followed that trail, walking through lush parks and narrow alleys. Rich manors and dingy shacks. A path to power. Finally, he stood before the main hall of Rashek, capital of Nirvivan. And stopped. A moment of quiet contemplation, a recognition of the path he had walked to arrive where he was.

    Creak¡­

    The mighty, but plain, doors in front of him slowly opened, spilling light onto him and the cobbled avenue behind him. His orange eyes slowly opened once more, turning into miniature suns, reflecting the light of the hall.

    He took a step forward.

    Past and present merged into one as he passed the threshold, a step away from the distant past and into the future. John was the sum of his moments, and he would need every shred of himself for the task ahead.

    The hall was well lit, although relatively light on decoration. Every item of value was being used to found the army.

    At the end of the hall, another set of bare, but stout, doors opened to lead to the assembly room beyond.

    And immediately exposed the world to the cacophonous arguing beyond.

    John suppressed a sigh as he once more silenced the hall. As always Tomas was right in the thick of it, red-faced and silently glaring at a young man that glared right back.

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    John immediately got the meeting back on track,

    ¡°We need more men. More supplies. More funding. More everything. It''s not enough.¡±

    The assembly shuffled uncomfortably before on finally spoke,

    ¡°We don''t have anything else¡­ We have cracked open all the coffers this council had and gathered funds even beyond that. What more can we do?¡±

    John silently stared at the fat man dressed in some of the most opulent clothes he had ever seen.

    ¡°You seem to have a lot of money.¡±

    The fat man laughed for a second before realizing John wasn''t joking,

    ¡°You''re serious? I have donated massive amounts of money! What more can you ask for!¡±

    John took in the room, observing some of the assembly members nodding along with the fat man¡¯s words. His face darkened. He had grown very tired of the resistance in the face of what was already an impossible task. Some things could only be taught through the cold touch of death¡¯s scythe. A few of the smarter members began to shrink back.

    A dozen shots rang out across the chamber.

    In an instant, every man that had been nodding alongside the fat man lost their wig.

    A shocked silence settled over the hall.

    ¡°An inch lower and each and every one of your brains would be splattered over the seats behind you. Your fortunes will not follow you to the underworld.¡±

    One of the shaking men started to whimper.

    John ignored him, each word picking up steam as his very presence suppressed those around him.

    ¡°What do you not understand? Everyone here has committed high treason. Unless we win this war your lives are forfeit. Make no mistake, this is not a political game. This is war! Life and death! And if you want to survive it, YOU WILL GIVE EVERYTHING!¡±

    His last words echoed through the chamber, a promise of retribution against any that dared oppose it. Eyes shining like twin suns he continued,

    ¡°ARE! WE! CLEAR!¡±

    The fat man had already passed out, but some of the others gave shaky nods. John immediately assumed his calm once more, all evidence of his colossal rage vanishing,

    ¡°Now that we have the bare minimum of funding to make this war even possible, what has been Frald¡¯s response?¡±

    Tomas answered that one,

    ¡°Since we refused to repeal the declaration and they declared war, reports have indicated forces totalling nearly 100,000 men have been dispatched right towards Rashek.¡±

    Several shocked gasps in the audience revealed that this had not previously been known.

    ¡°We only have 60,000,¡± John stated grimly, ¡°And most are untrained. How long do we have?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Tomas hedged, ¡°The wind has actually been heavily in our favor lately, so it''s possible it could take them almost four months to muster their forces.¡±

    ¡°That means we have four months to train our men. It could be worse.¡± John mused.

    ¡°But what about¡­¡±

    The discussion continued for hours, forging the plans that could mean their salvation. Or their doom.

 28.3 - War

    After the meeting, Tomas found John,

    ¡°General, can I have a moment of your time?¡±

    ¡°How can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I have noticed you seem to be short on deputy generals and I would like to offer my service.¡±

    ¡°You want to be a deputy general?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir¡±

    John frowned and looked closer at Tomas. At first glance he looked like a normal young man, admittedly a well dressed one. But his eyes¡­ He hid it well but he could completely cover the fire within. He was hungry. For power and glory and all the things young men lusted after. He wanted to make a name for himself, wanted to carve out a place in history. Yet¡­ he was wasted on the battlefield. His true worth lay in organization and management. With a gun maybe he could kill 100. With a pen he could kill thousands. He wouldn''t like it, but in time he would understand.

    ¡°I would hire you as my personal secretary¡±

    The fire inside flashed for a second, revealing his frustration to the world before he masterfully hid it.

    ¡°Sir, I truly believe I could accomplish much more on the battlefield.¡± he entreated.

    ¡°On the contrary, the pen is mightier than the sword. It was you that brought this assembly together. It was you who wrote the document that gave us independence.¡±

    His frustration flared up again,

    ¡°Sir, if you could just¡­¡±

    ¡°No Tomas.¡± he said gently ¡°I see the hunger in you. I was once hungry like that. Hungry for power and glory. But there are many paths to power. One leads to death. One leads to victory.¡±

    ¡°I would gladly die for my country!¡± he replied heatedly.

    ¡°Dying is easy. Living is harder.¡±

    Tomas was silent for a few moments, processing those words. Then he took a deep breath and visibly mastered himself.

    ¡°I¡­see. Very well. I accept. I will serve as your secretary.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Tomas. I understand how difficult that was.¡±

    ¡°This is what''s best for Nirvivan. How could I not?¡±

    John smiled at him, but internally he worried.

    Fires as bright as Tomas¡¯s were not so easily extinguished.

    War is a peculiar thing. All men are worlds unto themselves, and the weight of ending a world is no light burden. Yet war is a feast of destruction, a rain of blood. Worlds meet their ends in the thousand, falling in crashes heard across the world. War is a monstrosity, a massacre of potential. And the war John fought was among the most vicious. Across all of Frald and Nirvivan, men and women alike fell to their knees as they felt their worlds shattering. Men, women, and children, all fell to the divine crusade for freedom. Such is the price of rebellion.

    Cannons rang out over the ridge, a symphony of death. A wave of red crashed into the base of the ridge like a red sea striking the coast. Screams and war cries ruled the battlefield, louder than even the thousands of gunshots. Or they would.

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    ¡°Rally the northern flank! Direct cannon fire to support! I will personally bolster the southern flank!¡± High General John Nirvan ordered.

    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡±

    John Nirvan burst out of the command tent in full gallop, Nelly straining against her reins as she struggled to reach their overwhelmed men, a drop of blue in a sea of red. Behind him, nearly a dozen officers emerged and immediately rushed in the other direction, the roar of cannons accompanying them.

    From the outside, it looked insane, a single man rushing an entire army. However, upon seeing him, the armies of Nirvivan let out a mighty roar and redoubled their defense while the Fraldians faltered, shying back in the face of the legendary general.

    While in mid-stride, John, nay Sunshot, reached a hand to his waist. The officers of Frald, immediately shrank back, a thought occurring to them. But the sun could not be stopped. It touched all things. A second later, a dozen Fraldian officers toppled from their saddles.

    John seized the moment,

    ¡°Rally! This is our chance! Push them!¡±

    And somehow, the Nirvivians heard him.

    With a mighty roar, they pushed forward, capitalizing on their opponent''s sudden loss of commanders.

    The Fraldian battlelines buckled as they desperately retreated.

    John arrived at the Nirvivian battlelines, to the worshiping eyes of his men.

    ¡°They will be back! Reform the lines! Reload your muskets! Clean your bayonets! And somebody prime the southern cliffs with explosives! We¡¯ll drive them back and collapse the cliff on them!¡±

    There was work to do.

    Later that night, the command tent was stuffed to bursting,

    ¡°Tomas,¡± John questioned, ¡°Has the assembly responded?¡±

    ¡°Yes, they say the rest of the armies are losing ground. After Richmond''s army was routed, the rest started losing ground. And they¡­they are approaching Rashek¡±

    John took that news with a grim nod. It had been expected.

    He considered their choices, and only one came to mind. It was insane, but it was the only thing that could work. Even convincing the army to try it was a risky proposition. But¡­ in the past years of fighting, he had gained an almost mythical reputation. He was undefeated, despite being outnumbered nearly 3 to 1. If anyone could do it, it was him.

    He spoke,

    ¡°If they take the capitol, we lose. We must¡­¡± he sighed, ¡°We must strike now. It''s the only hope.¡±

    ¡°But that''s madness! They have almost three times our numbers!¡±

    ¡°And yet we must! The second largest army marches on Rashek, and nobody can stop them but us!¡±

    The tent was silent at that. Then Tomas spoke,

    ¡°The general is right, we must strike. I have seen the undertone in the assembly¡¯s letters. They are terrified, ready to surrender. And if they surrender, our dreams of a free nation turn to mist. In these past three years of fighting, we have been the only army to actually gain ground, despite being heavily outnumbered. We are the biggest army, and we have the greatest commander. We can end this!¡±

    John nodded at the once-young man. War had hardened him, granted him wisdom and control.

    Then gathering all of his ethos, all of his presence, the weight of his myth, he spoke,

    ¡°This is the battle for Nirvivan. This will decide our fate and the fate of our home. Will we hide from that destiny, or meet it with cocked guns! This is the cumulation of our war! So tell me men! Will. We. Meet! Our! DESTINY!¡±

    A moment of silence preluded a furious roar of agreement.

    It was decided. They would fight at dawn. For the fate of Nirvivan.

    After the meeting, Tomas came to find him. It was funny how the past repeated itself. Once he had come, a boy blazing with passion and righteous rage, begging to hold command. How he came as a man, one equal to any,

    ¡°You know why I am here¡± Tomas stated.

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°I am ready¡±

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°So, I ask you general, may I have command?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you may. You will lead the eastern flank.¡±

    ¡°Thank you¡±

    John smiled,

    ¡°You have earned it. I cannot think of a better person for the position.¡±

 28.4 - Power

    The sun rose early the next morning, painting the rocky landscape a soft pink. It dawned upon a new day, a day that would go down in history as the day Nirvivan was founded.

    I have seen many things, but few were more miraculous than that battle. A small force of poorly equipped men attack a fortified force 3 times larger than them. And they won.

    John, led at the front, the brilliant sun behind him blinding all that dared gaze upon it. His pistols pounded out a steady rhythm, felling officers in the dozens. And when his bullets ran out, his blade tasted blood. Behind him the brave men of Nirvivan followed their indomitable general, blazing with passion. But even with Sunshot himself at their lead, some things cannot be overcome.

    Just when it seemed like it was over, Tomas struck from the back, having scaled a sheer cliff to reach them. Sunshot raised his pistol and a bullet flew straight into the air, catching the rays of the rising sun and seeming to become a sun itself. Thunderous booms rang out as hidden explosives discharged their payloads amid the Fraldian forces.

    ¡°CHARGE!¡± screamed John, the very picture of glory.

    The Nirvivian forces charged up the hill with renewed vigor, the disoriented Fraldian forces struggling to deal with both the suicidal charge and the small elite force, led my Tomas, spreading devastation.

    In the end they fell short. I watched in awe as John crested the fortification and began to lay into the enemy. When the dust cleared a Nirvivian flag topped the hill and the defeated Fraldian force left in shame, having been stripped of all their possessions.

    The greatest of the Fraldian armies had fallen. The rest would soon follow.

    Two weeks later, Sunshot¡¯s army marched into a devastated Rashek. Lines of dirty and bloody people lined the streets, watching. Silence permeated the city, a silence filled with disbelief and growing realization. There is a moment, balanced over the chasm of defeat and the zenith of victory, where all stops. The certain knowledge of impending death evaporates like morning gloom in the face of the sun and light streams through the dissipating darkness.

    Then John Nirvan, Sunshot in the flesh, stepped to the front, and in a voice that seemed come from everywhere, announced,

    ¡°It is over. We are free.¡±

    A single cheer came from the mouth of a dust-streaked boy, fist raised in victory.

    The world exploded into sound, the previous silence shattering like the former truth of Fraldian dominance. No man is free until he believes he is free.

    The celebration lasted for days, a triumphant rebuilding of the capital of their new nation.

    In the skeleton of the old council building, a meeting to decide the fate of a nation was convening. The assembly knelt before the high dais, upon which John stood.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he questioned.

    An assembly member stood and stepped forward,

    ¡°We have convened, and it has been decided. You shall be the progenitor of the new royal line of Nirvivan.¡±

    Humans have a saying, one that I have seen proven apt throughout the ages. Die the hero or live to become the villain. Power corrupts all things in the end. By all metrics, Sunshot was following that path. His opportunity to die the hero had passed. Now all that remained was villany. And yet¡­

    John looked over the gathered assembly, the most powerful people on the continent, kneeling before him and suddenly felt tired. He remembered when he had wanted power like this, when he had dreamed of it. Now it all felt so¡­ hollow. All he wanted was to lay down his weapons and quietly pass into eternity. He was no king. Merely a man. And no man should wield the fate of so many others. It was kings that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. He turned to look at Tomas, and saw the hesitation in his eyes. He didn''t believe this was the right decision either.

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    ¡°No. There shall be no kings here. No man deserves to wield such power.¡±

    The assembly looked at him in shock, unable to believe a man could turn down such power.

    Another assembly member stepped forward,

    ¡°Then¡­ who shall rule? Who shall protect the people? Who shall affirm our sovereignty?¡±

    Tomas stepped forward, the hope in his eyes reigniting with a familiar fire,

    ¡°I have an idea.¡±

    They listened for hours and Tomas detailed a new form of government, one for the people and ruled by the people. No longer would the people bow to the whims of the king but rather it would be the other way around. It embodied the very essence of the war they had just fought. I will admit, even I was impressed by the foresight he had shown in the plan. It was detailed and meticulous. At the end, nearly everyone was nodding in agreement.

    John stepped forward,

    ¡°Then it is done. Let this be our new government¡±

    He started to organize the meeting, taking control of it as he had so many times before. Then he stopped. Why was he doing that? He didn''t want to lead. The sudden thought struck him like a lightning bolt, and he looked back at the war, at how he had changed during it. He was the sum of his moments, and throughout the war those moments had been with him in ultimate power. There was no time of dissent or democracy in war. There was only command and death. That command had changed him. Forever. He was not suited to this new type of leadership, one that required listening and deliberation with others. He was not needed. The thought struck him harder than he expected. He had grown used to the power and respect. He wanted to assert it, hold onto it despite his exhaustion. He did not want to be a king, yet the desire to be the greatest of men had not been purged. It was a trap. The more he asserted his power, the more it would grow and the greater effect its assertion would have. His power was already too great. It affected things he should not be meddling in.

    He sighed out loud. He had almost fallen. It truly was time to step down.

    ¡°Tomas. Come here.¡±

    Tomas looked confused for a second, then joined him on the dais.

    ¡°I vote Tomas act as the first among us.¡±

    A shocked silence filled the chamber,

    ¡°What about you?¡± somebody yelled.

    ¡°I will be stepping down. I am not suited to this. I am a man of violence, not peace.¡±

    The room erupted into chaos, only to be silenced by a hand from John,

    ¡°My mind is made. I will hinder the birth of our nation more than help. If you have ever trusted me, trust me in this. Tomas will lead us higher than ever.¡±

    He turned to Tomas,

    ¡°Are you ready for this?¡±

    Tomas looked back, burning with those familiar flames,

    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡±

    ¡°Then my work is done¡±

    He faced the quiet assembly, and to their shock bowed deeply to them.

    ¡°It had been my honor fighting alongside you all. In that you have made our nation proud.¡±

    He swept his gaze through them for the last time, taking in the men that had given everything for their country. Remembering the battles he fought alongside them. They had all grown marvelously. They were ready.

    ¡°Make it proud once more. Goodbye my friends.¡±

    And with those last words, he turned around and walked out of the assembly room.

    To walk out is among the hardest of achievements. In that action John Nirvan truly earned my respect, a feat few mortals can claim.

    He spent the rest of his life in quiet contemplation and when his time came I pressed him into a traveling star, forever separated from the people he had fought for, forever in peace.

    Tomas forged a new government, unique in the world, creating a prosperous nation. When his time came I let him become one with the document he had spent his life forging. A code of laws that defined how government should function. He would forever act as its spirit.

    Power is a concept all men seek to wield, but in the end, it is often power the wields man.

    Only those that can give up power are qualified to wield it.

    A paradox that has haunted humanity for all time.

    Unsolvable.

 29 - Survival

    The rise of a new age led to a tragedy beyond words. Genocide. The murder of millions for the simple fact of their existence. In the face of the seemingly endless Fraldian army, resistance seemed futile. Yet in the face of such inevitability some fought. Jonah Grimlek had peered deep into the shadows and understood the inevitability of his death. Yet he refused to give in, kindling the pieces of his broken mind to fight something inexorable. The will to continue in the face of absolute impossibility. That is the resolve required to face God.

    A sea of corpses stretched from horizon to horizon, the myriad of colorful uniforms reduced to one. Only red ruled here. A child cried out before her mother shushed her. Jonah breathed in deeply, remembering the time before red had ruled. It had happened in an instant, a spark flashing from the flint and the roaring fire in its wake. Its actual reason lost in the screams of dying men and whimpers of starving children. The sun had been shining when they first came. Men, dressed in uniform blues, bearing the crest of the so-called Savior, king of Frald. Jonah closed his eyes and let memory take him back. Time, merely a few months, yet seemingly like a lifetime, robbed him of the details. He remembered their polished black boots, the crisp shouted orders, the disdainful gazes. Yet he couldn''t remember what they had first said to his father, the mayor of their small village. Nor could he remember what their officer had looked like. But he remembered the first shot, the first scream, the first flame. And he remembered the street full of corpses, illuminated by the haunting orange glow of embers, when they had returned in the night. He had reached out to an ember, wondering of the reality of the scene. It had burned, burned like nothing he had ever felt before that day. Yet it was nothing next to listening to the sick sizzling of blood on embers. He had breathed in deeply through his nose, almost tasting the iron, feeling the ember burning through his skin. A sound came from far away, fighting through time itself to reach him,

    ¡°...Jonah! Jonah!¡±

    He let himself travel forward through time, arriving back at the endless sea of corpses.

    ¡°Yes?¡± he responded softly, looking at the speaker.

    Mary flinched at his gaze, perhaps seeing those flames in his eyes once more. Then, visibly gathering herself, she spoke,

    ¡°What¡­¡± she swallowed, ¡°What do we do?¡±

    Back before hell had come to earth, Mary, a woman of nearly 35 years, had been well respected in their little village. Yet now she deferred to him, a boy of barely 17 years. He looked at the small crowd behind him, merely two dozen of the hundreds that had once inhabited their small village, and that they too looked to him for an answer. He wondered why. He was broken. He had died alongside his mother. Alongside his father. Alongside his sister. Why did he get to live while they died? It wasn''t fair. Then again he thought, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, not like there¡¯s much to live for.

    ¡°...Jonah? Jonah! What do we do!?¡±

    Mary looked on the verge of tears, desperately trying not to look at the gruesome scene behind her.

    He responded instinctively, hating himself for lying to his people,

    ¡°We move forward¡± he somehow got out, sounding much more confident than he felt,

    ¡°past that ridge¡± he pointed to a ridge lining the eastern side of the battlefield.

    ¡°The map says there''s a village there. We can get water and food there. Remember, all we need to do is outlast them. Everything will be fine¡±

    Mary nodded silently, and the rest joined her.

    He led them over the ridge and into the village, hating himself every step of the way.

    He woke up the next morning covered in cold sweat, gasping for breath.

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    ¡°Mom! Dad!¡± he cried out futility, hands desperately grasping at something unseen.

    They found nothing but air, and his desperate flailing slowed as it was crushed under the immense weight of reality.

    They were gone.

    For a moment he simply lay still, letting blood and embers dance across the dark ceiling.

    Then, with a gasp he shot out of bed, rushing to the window and opening it to the predawn light.

    He let out a sigh of relief at seeing he had not overslept. He was in the attic of a nice couple they had offered to let them spend the night. He remembered the night before, the desperate bartering of some of the few possessions they had managed to scavenge from the remains of their village. He remembered them offering the cramped attic room to him, and the cold floor to his people. He had wanted to refuse, wanted to sleep with them, but upon seeing their hopeful faces he stopped. They wanted someone to take charge. Wanted someone to lead them. To give them hope. If they discovered he was the most broken of all¡­ then it would rob them of the last of their hope. He had recalled the lessons of his now-dead father. Leadership is not about power. It''s about sacrifice. He could sacrifice his comfort for his people.

    He started, remembering why he had gotten up early in the first place.

    He crept downstairs and knocked on the door of the nice couple.

    Silence.

    He knocked harder, praying with all his might.

    Silence.

    He burst into the room. Only to find it empty.

    Adrenaline pumping, he ran into the common room where his people lay sleeping.

    The couple was nowhere to be seen.

    ¡°Everybody up!¡± he yelled, ¡°We need to go! Now!¡±

    His tired people shot up, weeks on edge readily preparing them for such quick action.

    ¡°Grab all the food you can get! We leave in 5 minutes!¡±

    He was the first to follow his orders, running to the pantry, cursing himself all the way.

    How could he have fallen for such an obvious ploy?

    He was Zorish, and so were his people. The Savior had called for the culling of the Zorish people. He had spit on their faith, calling their women witches and their men rapists. Any he found vanished, never to be seen again. Jonah knew where they had gone. He remembered the bodies.

    I remembered too. More than he did. I remembered the Savior¡¯s hate, his burning abhor. His proclamation came like a punch to the gut. It was an end to a people. For no other reason than their mere existence. I once more began to doubt my creation¡­

    A doorframe rapidly rushing at his head, snapped him out of his self-recrimination.

    It only took an instant to grab everything in the pantry, recent practice and the meager amount of food speeding him along. The war had not been kind even to the non-Zorish people. Perhaps that¡¯s why they were constantly betrayed.

    He returned to find everybody mostly ready,

    ¡°Let''s go!¡±

    They fled west, running from the predawn sun.

    That night an exhausted Jonah watched his people pray, thanking God for their miracles. More miraculous than anyone but Jonah knew. In the end, pure dumb luck had been their savior. Their low chants echoed throughout the small grove they had chosen to shelter in for the night. Rising and falling like the sun, they wove a tapestry of sound and devotion, carefully assuring its sincerity and essence before sending it to the heavens above. To God.

    From far above I watched, a silent tear dripping from my non-existent eyes. I wanted nothing more than to take my children in my arms and reassure them. But I could not. The fate of man was for man to decide. I turned my attention to the young man, no young king standing off to the side.

    Once upon a time, Jonah would have joined in eagerly, sinking into the presence of both mortality and divinity. Now he wondered if God even deserved such faith. When had God protected them? He had let their families die. Let their home burn. Let their people be hunted.

    Far above, his every accusation pierced me like a blade, all the more powerful for their truth.

    He sat down on a nearby rock letting his thoughts sink into a rare moment of introspection.

    God had abandoned them. All they had were themselves. Yet as he lifted his head to look at his praying people, he could bring himself to tell them. He saw their joy and peace. The truth would shatter that. It would bring their end. But they were doomed, only able to run for so long. Looking at their smiling visages, illuminated only by the stars, he came to a conclusion. All men were ultimately doomed. All that mattered was how they faced their doom. He would ensure his people faced theirs with faith and hope. As for him. It''s about sacrifice. He would face it with eyes wide open if only to survive another second. If only to grant his people another moment of hope. He had failed his family, run while they died. He WOULD NOT fail his people.

    For the first time in months, he didn''t have any nightmares.

 29.2 - Escape

    The next few months were a blur of desperate pain and hunger. Despite that, Jonah only seemed to grow, turning into an intractable bulwark of safety, defending against the winds of despair. And in the pocket of hope formed by his presence, his people began to recover. They sang new songs and old ones alike. Wove flowers through their hair. Life was still a dark and bloody hell, but now at least, they could see the light.

    And as they peered deeper into the distant light, exulting in its faint presence, Jonah peered the other way. Into the dark and shadowed alcoves of their war-torn world. He saw the shadows stirring and he engaged them, striking them down with carefully laid plans and acute intelligence. His name began to spread, and after careful consideration he let it. His people were so much more than just the small group he led. This growing myth could shield them, and failing that, grant them one last moment of hope before the reaper came for them.

    Jonah, King of the Zors, they called him, whispering of legendary figures walking the earth once more.

    But that was secondary to the obstacle before them,

    ¡°Mary¡± Jonah commanded, voice ringing with authority previously not present, ¡°How many are there?¡±

    ¡°They have us surrounded on all sides. Nearly 4 companies¡±

    Despite the danger, she remained completely calm, her faith in Jonah¡¯s abilities absolute. Jonah silently smiled upon hearing that. After all his failures, at least he had succeeded in one thing. When the end came, his people would face it with hope. There is a power in such acceptance, an opening of doors previously closed. When one becomes aware of their impending demise, they hold nothing back, burning body and soul for a few fleeting moments of pure power before the end. I have seen cities die and battles won in this power.

    Jonah, soul alight, looked at their surroundings. They were in a small abandoned village, achingly similar to the one they had once lived in. Narrow dirt roads winded between charred and sagging wooden houses, abandoned in the fury of the war and the panic to escape it.

    ¡°Gather everybody, please¡± he told Mary.

    She nodded and left the semi-stable building they were standing in.

    They had been sheltering in its charred depths for almost a week before they had been found, surrounded by 4 companies of Fraldian soldiers. For months they had been slowly making their way south, hoping to find asylum in one of the countries opposing Frald. At least that''s what the people thought. Jonah knew better. They would never make it.

    I wonder if this will be the end Jonah idly wondered.

    He knew such musings belonged to broken men, but he had long accepted that he was broken. Perhaps that¡¯s what made him such a great leader.

    Only broken men could understand a broken world.

    Then as was his custom, he looked up, gaze seeming to pierce the heavens to land on me.

    ¡°Enjoying the show?¡± he whispered.

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    I flinched at the hint of madness in his words.

    I was saved by the arrival of Mary and the rest of the people, whose number had grown to nearly 4 dozen.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he clapped, ¡°Here¡¯s the plan¡­¡±

    They didn''t die that day.

    ¡ª------------

    More months passed and more months were survived.

    ¡ª--------------

    Jonah and another man lay belly down in the scraggly bushes on the peak of a hill. Below them stretched a mighty wall of concrete and barbed wire. The border of Frald and Parrick. The final challenge. If they managed to pass the borders and get into Parrick it''s likely Parrick scouts would find them and take them away from the hell they had been living in. Only if they cross the border.

    Back at the camp Jonah address the 6 dozen people with him,

    ¡°There are far fewer guards than usual, with most of the Fraldian army being used to reinforce the northern front. Now''s the best chance we have. Prepare yourselves. We leave at midnight.¡±

    As the people huddled together to preserve warmth, Jonah gazed at the stars, clearly visible in the lack of moonlight. The stars, or rather the darkness between them whispered secrets to him.

    Strange shapes moved in the shadows. Jonah felt the scythe hovering over his neck,  felt it every shred of his being. None of them would outlive the week. There was no path forward. They had run and run and now there was nowhere to run. Yet¡­ if all paths led to the same place, then all that mattered was how the path was walked. Jonah would let his people''s last free day be one of hope and celebration.

    He felt a sense of revulsion rise in him, one that was as familiar to him as the shadow of death. Revulsion for lying to his people, for proclaiming hope when there was none. But looking back on his people excitedly whispering of their impending freedom, his face softened. It''s about sacrifice. His integrity was a cheap price to pay for their joy.

    He slept soundly, dreaming of his impending release.

    At midnight they set out. At first, the plan went flawlessly. In the gap between patrols, they slipped to the wall. With knives and rope, they cleared the barbed wire and began to scale the 10-foot wall. They felt lighter and lighter as more crossed the wall, seeming to shed the burden of desperate survival. Jonah only felt himself grow heavier and heavier, seeming to take on their shed weight as he felt the shadows close in. Miraculously they all cleared the walls. Jonah hushed the celebration and led them along a game trail. In the distance, dogs barked. Jonah froze feeling the scythe finally begin its descent.

    ¡°They''re here!¡± he shout-whispered, ¡°Quickly move! And be quiet!¡±

    The column of people sped up, joy turning to fear.

    The sounds of barking dogs, and now shouting men grew closer.

    Jonah made a snap decision,

    ¡°I¡¯ll distract them! Go!¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Mary whisper-shouted back, but he was already gone.

    He ran towards the dogs, shouting as he did.

    The next few minutes were a desperate chase. Jonah was a blur, leveraging everything he had ever learned. Years as a boy playing games in the woods and experience running from would-be killers both. Dense trees streaked by, illuminated only by the faint light of the stars. He pulled out every trick he knew to prolong the chase, walking the knife''s edge of getting caught and maintaining their attention. But no man is infallible and in the end he slipped. A tree branch he stepped on broke with a tremendous crash. He rolled with the fall and gracefully sprung back to his feet but that second was all the dogs needed. They fell on him with the savagery of a wild beast, ripping and tearing. The dog handles soon arrived and pried their dogs off of his bloody body.

    ¡°Got one!¡± the man hollered into the night.

    Jonah didn''t need to hear the answering cries to know that the rest of his people had been caught. His consciousness was slipping out of him with his blood.

    Darkness embraced him.

 29.3 - To Be Whole

    Reality slowly came back into focus with a series of rough bumps. Jonah groaned, slowly forcing open his crusty eyes. The world slowly came into focus, a dark enclosure filled with people. He slowly sat up, and immediately became the center of attention. He was instantly bombarded with a myriad of whispered questions. Raising a hand for silence he took stock of the situation. His prolific wounds had been roughly bandaged but he couldn''t feel any infection yet. In these conditions it was only a matter of time. He was in what appeared to be a moving convoy, likely a truck, with all of his people.

    ¡°Did anyone get away?¡± he questioned.

    ¡°No¡± came the tortured response.

    He sighed and leaned back. Mary, sitting next to him, immediately checked his temperature.

    ¡°Does anyone know where we are going?¡±

    This time it was Mary that answered,

    ¡°Auchate¡±

    He closed his eyes. That was one of the worst. He still didn''t have enough information to determine if they worked the occupants to death or just straight out killed them.

    ¡°Jonah¡­¡± Mary whispered, ¡°What do we do?¡±

    He considered her question, peering into the shadows for a hint of light. And found none. They were doomed. He wondered if he should keep up the charade, the lie. He looked over at Mary, his most ardent supporter, and beheld the confidence she had in him. Was it justified? He no longer knew. If he continued the lie, it could shatter his people upon his most assuredly public execution. But if he told the truth it could also break them. His judgment was compromised. He needed help.

    ¡°Mary,¡± he whispered, ¡°I need your help¡±

    She looked surprised,

    ¡°Really?¡± she whispered back.

    ¡°Yes, but first you need to know something.¡±

    And he told her. About his brokenness. About the inevitability of their demise. About lying. He told her everything, everything except the falseness of God. She truly was devout and deserved more than being told her god was false.

    ¡°And I need to know your opinion. Do I tell them now and risk breaking them? Or do I let my death break them?¡± He finished.

    For a moment Mary just looked at him silently. Then she surged forward and seized him in an intense hug, tears beginning to form in her eyes. To say Jonah was surprised is an understatement. Mary had almost always been calm and composed.

    ¡°Mary, are you ok?¡± he whispered through the hug.

    She ignored him and continued to clutch him like he was a hurt child.

    Finally, after what seemed like hours she leaned back.

    ¡°What was that fo¡­¡±

    Then she slapped him. Right in the face.

    ¡°You idiot¡± she hissed, ¡°You stupid idiot. Why didn''t you tell me sooner?¡±

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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he hung his head, ¡°I thought if you knew it would take away the scarps of hope you managed to ignite. I didn''t want my people''s last moments to be in fear. I wanted them to hope for a better future even if it''s ultimately useless.¡±

    ¡°No idiot. Why didn''t you tell me you thought you were broken?¡±

    ¡°Because it didn''t seem relevant?¡±

    ¡°You are not broken¡±

    ¡°I am¡±

    That only seemed to make her more mad.

    ¡°You. Are. Not¡± at this point the people around them were beginning to look at them.

    ¡°I have seen your heart, Jonah Grimlek¡± she continued, ¡°And it is good. You are good.¡±

    Her words hit something deep inside Jonah, and he felt something in his chest getting heavier.

    ¡°But I lied,¡± he replied, surprised to find his voice beginning to tremble, ¡°I ran. I failed. Now we¡¯re all going to die.¡±

    Recognizing the growing tremble in his voice Mary¡¯s expression softened and she gently guided his head to lay in her lap. Looking down into his eyes, she continued,

    ¡°You did not lie, you tried. You cannot see everything. You did not run, you saved yourself. You cannot fight everything. You did not fail. Look around. We still have hope. Because of you.¡±

    Her brilliant green eyes speared him, breaking past the defenses he had built around his mind.

    He began to reach for counter-arguments but found none. In the face of her passion, all else seemed meaningless. All he found was one futile denial.

    ¡°But I am broken.¡±

    Mary sighed, gently brushing the hair out of his face,

    ¡°You are not broken, love. You are mighty.¡±

    Such a simple statement, yet it shattered him.

    Mary shielded him as he silently cried, tears streaming down his face as he came to a realization.

    He was not broken. He was good. He was mighty. He was Jonah.

    He did not know how long he cried. All he knew was that Mary was with him every step of the way.

    Finally, his tears abated, and he found a new self-image spring into being deep within him. No longer was he a broken liar. Now he was a mighty leader.

    He breathed in deep, opening his eyes to meet Mary¡¯s green orbs.

    ¡°Do you understand,¡± she asked lightly, playfully, ¡°Or do you need some more smacking.¡±

    He chuckled,

    ¡°I think I¡¯m good¡±

    She smiled and helped him sit up.

    ¡°As for the earlier question¡­¡±

    ¡°There are no lies to admit to¡± she quickly cut in.

    ¡°I know. I know¡± he said, raising his arms in surrender, ¡°but what about my execution?¡±

    Mary stared into space for a second, seeing something he didn''t.

    ¡°I don''t like you talking about your death like that.¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like it''s inevitable.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­it is, isn''t it?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she responded fiercely.

    ¡°I will fight it to the end, Mary. But I need to take precautions. Make sure my death is the end of me and only me.¡±

    She gazed at him with a sense of deep sadness, then sighed,

    ¡°You idiot,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said, you idiot. You are more than just a man. You created a concept greater than you. Remember: Jonah, King of Zors? So long as you stay true to yourself, that concept will live far beyond your mortal flesh¡±

    He thought of her words and found them true. He had created a legacy of hope and resistance that would outlive his mortal body.

    Mary smiled at the realization on his face,

    ¡°Good. Now let''s get some praying in. Can''t hurt to have God on our side.¡±

    He was about to turn her down, citing his hatred of me, but then stopped. Praying did not necessarily need to be a religious thing. It could be communal.

    So he joined them in prayer, taking comfort from their presence. To them, it looked like he was devoutly praying with them, but only I heard the true curses he cast to me.

    Suddenly, the door burst open and Fraldian soldiers burst in. Before anybody could even react they had grabbed Jonah and dragged him out the door. The last thing he heard before he was knocked out was Mary¡¯s tortured scream,

    ¡°JONAH!¡±

    ¡ª----------------

 29.4 - Indomitable

    He woke in a sterile white room. A Fraldian man in a white lab coat stood in front of him, face possessing the typical bushy Fralidan eyebrows.

    ¡°Ah, good. You¡¯re up.¡± he said upon noticing Jonah¡¯s stirring, ¡°I am Doctor Mclain¡±

    He snapped and a Fraldian soldier rolled in a cart filled with sharp implements before leaving once more.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Jonah managed to groggily ask.

    ¡°Oh, that''s simple. You will go in front of the people and repent for your sins. Then you will be executed.¡±

    Human bodies may be fragile things, but the legacies they create and the ideals they stand for are frighteningly powerful things. They continue to persist so long as a single person remembers them. I have seen the legacies of even simple men persist for millennia, much less those that have achieved greatness.

    Jonah¡¯s blood ran cold, recognizing what they were trying to do. They were seeking to destroy him. Mind, body, legacy, and all. They couldn''t destroy what he stood for. Only he could. If they simply killed him, he would be a martyr, living on in what he stood for. But if he repented before his death, he would stand for nothing and would therefore have nothing to live on in. He would just be another man.

    If he gave in, his people would be without hope.

    He remembered Mary¡¯s face. Remembered her words. He was whole. He was mighty.

    And he WOULD NOT break.

    The man in the lab coat smiled, instruments flashed, and life became pain.

    ¡ª--------------

    He did not know how long he spent in that room, or others like it. They tortured him again and again and again. Life became a symphony of pain. Within the first week, he had already stopped screaming, his voice no longer up to the task. After that, time blurred, turning into an ever-flowing stream of hurt. Yet no matter how intense the pain it could not compare to the pain of that day. The smell of charred meat and weak moans of dying people. It could not compare to the sight of his blackened family. His kind sister who only wanted to grow her flowers. His wise father, who had taught him to lead. And his gentle mother who loved to sing. It could not compare to the burden of leading. Of holding the lives of your people in your hand and knowing no matter what you did they would never escape. Life was pain, with or without torture. And so he lived in the pain. He laughed and cried and loved and hurt. Sometimes the instrument felt like the sting of failure. Sometimes they felt like the caress of a lover. Sometimes they felt like the agony of heartbreak and sometimes they felt like the embrace of family. At long last, he was home.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    Low voices woke him from his slumber.

    ¡°Orders came from the top. We are to publicly hang him¡±

    ¡°But we''re not done¡± came the reply, voiced by the hated doctor. Or not hated. It had been so many lifetimes that Jonah was no longer sure.

    ¡°Doesn''t matter,¡± the voice replied, ¡°Orders are orders.¡±

    ¡°Executing him without breaking him could cause riots¡±

    Jonah could practically hear the shrug in the other man''s response,

    ¡°Not my problem. Besides you guys had months and he hasn''t broken. I''ve heard he''s gone insane. Can''t break insanity¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°He''s lucid. He just has some¡­ interesting coping techniques.¡±

    ¡°Well, they appear to be effective.¡±

    ¡°We almost have it. We just need to find someone. Some girl. Mary? Yes, Mary.¡±

    Jonah¡¯s blood ran cold.

    ¡°The guards apparently heard her calling out to him when they took him.¡± he continued, ¡°She was probably his lover. With her, we can probably break him.¡±

    ¡°Too late.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± the doctor grumbled, ¡°Take him. Not worth my time anyway.¡±

    Jonah felt hands hauling him to his feet and he stood for the first time in what had likely been months. His muscles were atrophied and weak but he managed to stumble after them. They led him out a door and into the gloomy morning. He walked through rows of buildings packed with people watching curiously.

    Zors.

    His people.

    They were dirty and ragged with many having visible rib cages. It hurt him to see them like this. But it wouldn''t hurt for long.

    His escorts guided him to a high platform carrying him up the stairs like a sack of meat when his weakened muscles failed him.

    They made him stand on a high stool and tied a noose around his neck. Then they stepped back.

    The execution would be for another hour, but if his legs gave out and he fell, his end would come much earlier. He considered letting himself fall, but in the end, he couldn''t resist one last opportunity to see his people.

    The hour passed in silent contemplation as more and more people filed into the massive courtyard. Jonah reflected back on his life. The peace of his early years and the struggle of the end. And he found himself at peace. He had struggled with everything he had, and he would continue to struggle till the last moment, but it was nice to know rest was coming.

    He searched the crowd, desperately looking for hints of those he had brought with him. And even more desperately for one person in particular.

    He found depressingly few. Only 4, scattered around.

    He gave them a nod and a smile when they saw him. They looked back with a mixture of awe and horror. He knew he must look like a mess, covered in burns and cuts and missing multiple fingers and even half an arm. Yet he still smiled and greeted them.

    The void beckoned.

    Still even so close to the finish line. He held his head high. He had thought long and hard on how to go out. Then he found it. Since ancient times Zors had been differentiated by the depth and ardor of their faith. How the Fralidans had proved that no Gods ruled here. Only men. So he would show them that they needed no god to be strong. That they were enough as mere men. So he held his head high and met every gaze that came his way. He stood in the eye of the world and looked back with just as much intensity. No words were needed. They could feel it.

    Soon the Fraldians began to read the long list of his supposed crimes. He stood tall and owned them all.

    Finally, the moment came, he saw her in the crowd. Mary. He met her haunted eyes. And he smiled.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry¡¯ he mouthed, ¡®for all this. For leaving you. For failing. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯

    The list of crimes continued, but all that mattered to Jonah was Mary.

    Tears began to spill out of her eyes and he saw her mouth form her own words.

    ¡®Idiot. There¡¯s nothing to be sorry about.¡¯

    The long list of crimes had finally ended. The soldier moved to kick out the chair under him. As if he would let anyone else control his death.

    ¡®I love you¡¯ he mouthed to Mary, seeing the profound rush of emotion fill her face as a result.

    Then he stepped off the stool.

    Immediately the animalistic parts of his brain panicked as his air supply was cut off. But he had long mastered those parts of his brain. He continued to smile at Mary even as blackness crept into the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw before all went cold and dark was her tear-streaked face.

    And so Jonah Grimlek, King of Zors, perished.

    ¡ª----------------------

    Nobody that had witnessed that execution forgot it. It ignited a fire in each and every one of them. A fire that drove them to survive until the camp was liberated by Parrickian forces three months later. Mary survived and told his story, creating organizations dedicated to peace and writing books dedicated to remembrance.

    I pressed his path into the core of the earth itself.

    Life itself is merely a protest in the face of inevitable death. His path would remind them the outcome doesn''t matter, only how one faced it.

    Mary joined him after her death and they finally got the time they had never had while alive.

    I looked upon the senseless devastation. At the pointless deaths of countless.

    And once more.

    I began to doubt.

 30 - Prodigy

    What makes a God? This is a question I have asked myself time and time again as I pursue the highest of peaks. I have scoured the holy texts and ancient monuments. I have seen the Mountain of Adam and the City of Micheal. And yet, in few places have I found divinity closer than in the tale of my ancestor, Adam an Erduk. Divinity is not merely power, nor is it control. Those are simple. True divinity is creation. God became divine through the creation of the universe, and Adam an Erduk too became divine through the creation of his own. A world of words and ideas. A world, while less corporeal than physical reality, held a metaphysical weight almost its equal. He reached the brink of ascension only to fail at the last step. Why?

    The stars are perhaps the greatest physical representation of divinity. They are balls of pure matter and energy, constantly shifting states in accordance to the laws I once shaped. Pieces of the primal light that created the canvas of reality. Over the ages I have infused them with the echoes of the worthy, turning the starry sky into a kaleidoscope of remarkable paths. The seeds of divinity lie within that kaleidoscope, the half-finished creations of long-dead men shining down.

    Adam an Erduk was born under those stars. And the stars baptized him in turn. That was my first memory of him. A child reaching to the distant heavens, chubby fists opening and closing as if to seize divinity.

    He was destined for greatness.

    ¡ª----------

    He grew up quietly, often staring, for hours on end, at something nobody else could see. He was a prodigy,  eagerly soaking up lessons from his mentors and watchers. Books disappeared at a frightening rate and by the time he was merely ten his retainers had run out of things to teach him.

    ¡°What''s next?¡± young Adam asked his mentors.

    The group of people gathered around him chuckled. Old and young they represented some of the brightest minds in the world. And they had been utterly surpassed by a boy not yet in his teens.

    Rufus, a bearded old man that had taught Adam math crouched in front of him,

    ¡°We have no more to teach you, child.¡±

    Adam blinked,

    ¡°But surely there is more. Look around us. I hardly understand anything.¡±

    ¡°And neither do we.¡± Rufus replied calmly.

    ¡°Then what use are you?¡± Adam replied with the innocent curiosity of a child.

    Rufus chortled, not taking any offense,

    ¡°We were merely here to get you started. To share the meager knowledge we hold and reveal the vast expanse yet to be discovered. Your recognition of that expanse means we have succeeded.¡±

    Adam fell silent, contemplating Rufus¡¯ answer.

    Finally he spoke,

    ¡°Then what now?¡±

    Rufus smiled,

    ¡°Now you are free. Investigate what you wish and learn what you can. Create something new.¡±

    Adam smiled.

    ¡ª-------------

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The process of true creation is much more involved than most know, taking a lifetime of work and dedication. All creation is built upon what came before, whether that be the old foundation of a building or the empty void. Therefore, the first step to creating something is to understand all that came before it. A task of a lifetime alone. Then one must learn to apply that understanding. Use it as a lever to change the world around them. They must connect it to the greater order and put their understanding into context. Knowledge in a void benefits no one. Finally, when one has understood all, learned to apply it, and put it into context, they reach the bare minimum requirements to attempt a creation of their own.

    They earn the requisite insight to strive for divinity.

    ¡ª-----------------

    Adam stood at the precipice of a tall tower, observing the bustling city below. Below him stood a nervous looking man,

    ¡°Young master,¡± he begged nervously, ¡°Please come down. It''s not safe.¡±

    Adam, now 13 years old, absentmindedly waved a hand as if swatting away a fly,

    ¡°Don''t worry. I¡¯ll be fine. I have an excellent sense of balance. Sir Darkhan made sure to drill that into me¡± he chuckled.

    Then he sighed,

    ¡°When will dad be back?¡±

    ¡°Right now¡± rang a deep baritone behind him.

    Adam spun around as fast as he could, drawing a startled squeak from the nervous administrator, to see his father behind him.

    His father, Gabon an Erduk, Archduke of Parrick, was an impressive man, rippling with muscles. Yet despite his bulk he had one of the keenest minds Adam had ever seen. The brilliant azure eyes he shared with Adam were his most distinctive feature, supposedly a gift from the progenitor of their storied lineage. At his waist he wore a strange curved blade sheathed in pure steel. Adam had never seen his father draw it, and when he asked him about it he was simply told,

    ¡°It''s not a blade meant to be used. Merely a¡­ warning.¡±

    Adam threw himself into his fathers arms with a happy yell. Gabon picked him up and swung him around.

    ¡°What have you been up to?¡± he asked excitedly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying out new economic systems!¡±

    ¡°Oh really?¡± he Gabon asked with amusement, setting Adam down.

    ¡°Yeah! Neil!¡± he yelled, making the nervous man jump,

    ¡°Yes, young master.¡±

    ¡°Tell dad about the increases in production and wealth.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. Due to the policies implemented by the young master. Uhhh¡­¡± he fumbled with his papers, ¡°give me a second.¡±

    Adam pouted as Neil struggled with his papers.

    ¡°Ah! Here it is. Ok, production is up 300%, crime is down 98%, and 99% of citizens report feeling much happier than before.¡±

    ¡°Percent?¡± Gabon questioned.

    ¡°A measure of a proportion of a whole.¡± Adam quickly supplied.

    ¡°Ah. And how much did this cost?¡±

    ¡°That the thing,¡± Neil said, ¡°It''s actually making us money.¡±

    Gabon raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°How does that work?¡±

    ¡°Come on, i''ll show you¡± Adam interjected eagerly, grabbing Gabon by the arm.

    ¡°You just need banks and loans and¡­¡±

    ----------------------------------

    War came with a thundering boom.

    Adam flinched back as flames licked the old stone walls, feeling their heat against his bare skin. The walls, once impenetrable bulwarks, fell short in this new type of warfare.

    The light of Jazarin¡¯s star shone far indeed.

    Behemoths of metal patrolled the skies, machines of never-tiring death. Light constructs of canvas and wood streaked through the skies, raining fire from high above.

    The Archduchy of Erduk was outnumbered and outgunned.

    But they fought back anyway.

    Gabon an Erduk assumed lead on the field, reaping lives with guns and steel.

    And Adam an Erduk, at the tender age of 18 was named high commander of the Erduk forces.

    Adam, drawing upon the vast knowledge he had accumulated, quickly reorganized the army to face the new threats. Bastilla bolts were aimed at the heavens, destroying flier after flier. He reorganized the ground troops to more guerilla tactics to outmaneuver and surround the slow beasts of metal. He even ramped up production and morale at home to keep the garrison supplied with both men and supplies.

    For months the Fraldian army besieged them, and for months it was repulsed.

 30.2 - A Severing

    Adam was standing on the peak of a tall battlement, quietly staring into the starry sky when Gabon joined him.

    He took in Adam¡¯s contemplative air in an instant, and joined him in staring.

    For a time they stood there, and let the world bleed away.

    Finally, Gabon broke the silence,

    ¡°Copper for your thoughts?¡±

    Adam was silent.

    ¡°Silver then?¡±

    Adam smiled but remained silent.

    Gabon sighed.

    ¡°Whatever this is, you need to get it out. It''s eating you up.¡±

    Adam absentmindedly grabbed a cooper puzzle out of his pocket and started to fiddle with it.

    ¡°What''s that?¡± Gabon questioned.

    ¡°Puzzle.¡± he replied absentmindedly, then continued, ¡°You''re right. I need your help.¡±

    ¡°With what?¡±

    Adam half heartedly reached for the distinct stars before letting his arm drop once more.

    ¡°Why am I in command?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re the best for the job.¡±

    ¡°No, I get that. It''s just¡­ Why is there a command in the first place? All men are worlds unto themselves. You taught me that.¡± he turned to look at Gabon, ¡°What gives us the right to command entire worlds?¡±

    Gabon was silent for a second before sighing,

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°Then why do we rule? Why do we condemn worlds to their deaths instead of dying ourselves? Why do they listen to our commands?¡±

    Gabon was silent and Adam continued.

    ¡°Why? It doesn''t make sense. If all men have the potential to be great then why aren''t they?¡±

    Gabon finally spoke,

    ¡°That is a complicated question, one whose answers have been sought for millennia. But the truth, at least for our situation, is that we assume unjust command because we must. If we stepped down this city would fall within the day. Idealism is a luxury we don''t have. Even the mightiest of ideals must bow to reality.¡±

    ¡°Must they?¡± Adam questioned.

    Gabon opened his mouth only to be interrupted by a clerk bursting through the door.

    ¡°Milords!¡± he panted, ¡°The Fraldians have launched a full assault!¡±

    Adam paled,

    ¡°How many?¡±

    The man hesitated, then swallowing spoke,

    ¡°Three¡­ three full divisions.¡±

    ¡ª-------------------

    Adam and Gabon stood on the walls, looking at the cloud of dust in the distance. It was beautiful in a way, their approaching death. The rays of the myriad stars refracted off the numerous dust particles, staining the sky a kaleidoscope of colors.

    ¡°Where did I go wrong?¡± Adam lamented, ¡°They should have not seen us as a big enough threat to send three damn divisions.¡±

    Gabon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder,

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°It''s ok Adam. Can''t predict everything.¡±

    Adam turned to face his father,

    ¡°How could you say it''s ok! I messed up and now we¡¯re all going to die!¡±

    The soldiers around them stirred uncomfortably.

    Gabon just stared at him,

    ¡°So what will you do? Run? Hide? Defect?¡±

    Adam drew himself up in indignation,

    ¡°No! I vowed to serve these people. I will not leave them.¡±

    Gabon scrutinized him for a long moment, observing how he stood firm.

    Then he relaxed.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°To die? I''d prefer not to.¡±

    Gabon chuckled.

    ¡°No. To rule¡±

    He go down on one knee,

    ¡°By the authority invested in me, Gabon an Erduk, Archduke of Parrick, I hereby surrender the full measure of my power and authority to Adam an Erduk. May he rule with grace and benevolence.¡±

    For a moment there was only shocked silence.

    Then all the soldiers on the walls kneeled at once, the ring of metal on stone announcing their new lord.

    ¡°All hail, Archduke Adam an Erduk!¡±

    With a gaping mouth, Adam stared at his father.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    His father gave him a sad smile,

    ¡°I¡¯m not long for this world.¡±

    ¡°None of us are¡±

    Gabon ignored him.

    ¡°Serve the people in the best way you see fit. I have taught you everything I know, but in the end I want you to execute your own judgment. Create something new.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking ab¡­¡±

    ¡°Don''t be afraid to make something of yourself. There is not can¡¯t, only won¡¯t¡±

    ¡°Dad! What''s going on?¡±

    Gabon turned to smile at him reaching over a hand to ruffle his hair. Adam was so surprised he didn''t stop it.

    His father suddenly felt different. Less substantial and yet more powerful at the same time. It reminded Adam of burning wood, when the very essence of the wood empowered the flame.

    An ethereal ghost of glorious flame.

    ¡°You asked,¡± his father continued, ¡°If ideals must bend to reality and the truth is¡­ No. They can force reality to bend around them. But the price is high.¡±

    He reverently touched the hilt of the blade at his waist.

    ¡°This is God-Slayer, the sword of our ancestors, forged for one purpose. To cut. Anything. Physical. Astral. Divine. Nothing can stop its blade.¡±

    Around them muffled booms began to ring out as the long range weapons began to pelt the walls.

    ¡°Watch closely. This is the subversion of reality.¡±

    Adam and the soldier instinctively retreated as the space around Gabon seemingly turned into an infinity of blades.

    For instance the world stood still as Gabon breathed in and slid into a low cutting stance.

    Then Gabon blurred.

    And the world was CUT.

    To Adam''s eyes it was like a veil had been pierced.

    The world rippled, reality in front of Gabon seeming to dissolve, trees, sky and dirt subsumed before the inexorable will of blade and wielder.

    And through the fading veil of reality, something new was revealed.

    Adam felt it more than he saw it, its very definition resisting physical form. It was a seemingly infinite web of strings, binding all things together. The strings were so numerous they seemed to form a solid shape. A blob of infinite connection that seemed to stretch to eternity.

    Blood began to run down Adam¡¯s nose as he stared into infinity.

    Around him soldiers were collapsing with muted moans.

    It seemed impossible to find anything substantial in the sea of threads, but as the blade approached it seemed to zoom in on a single portion of the grander whole. A smaller web centered around a single person.

    The Savior.

    Time seemed to stop as Adam observed the web spinning from the Savior. Threads spun off him connected to thousand upon thousand of people, bound by love and hate both. It boggled his mind that one man could hold dominion over so many, and the nagging question remained in mis mind; what gave him the right to hold such power? He observed the web of the Savior, laid bare before his questioning gaze. Past, present, and future acquiesced to his desire, granting him the answers to his question. Nothing. There was nothing special about him, nothing special enough to warrant the power he held. He was merely an intelligent man that had taken advantage of hatred to rise to power. Hatred he now wielded, not out of actual hate, but rather as a way of maintaining his power. He was no king, merely a lucky man.

    Time resumed.

    A brilliant blade appeared, looking very different than in the physical. Here its true nature was revealed, not merely a sword, but as something meant to slay gods, something meant to do the impossible.

    Before it appeared a great red giant, forged of the combined hatred of a united people. It roared in defiance and struck out with a mighty arm.

    And it was CUT.

    One moment it was there. One moment it wasn''t.

    Adam watched as the webs connected to the Savior instantly began to sag, now devoid of the empowered hatred. The army approaching them, a tangle of threads composed of smaller tangles, turned around and began to march home, now devoid of purpose.

    He was still watching when reality reasserted itself and pulled him out of the astral realm.

    Gabon was gone, a sword sheathed in steel the only proof he had ever existed.

 30.3 - Revolution

    Adam stood upon the walls, staring into the stars. The war was over, the Savior overthrown by his own people. The casualties had been in the millions, a cost greater than any before it.

    Gabon had been one of them.

    He let the memories of his father run through his mind, bringing with them a lifetime of emotion. The study around him seemed to stir in response. That was new. Ever since his vision from deep in the Astral, reality had seemed¡­ fragile. He now saw it as it truly was; a thin veil over infinity.

    Gabon¡¯s last words came to him, a family motto he had heard a million times before,

    ¡°There is no can¡¯t, only won¡¯t.¡±

    For the first time he truly considered what it meant. His father had ended a war in a single sword blow, wielding the very blade now sheathed at his side. Reality could be forced to bend. So why accept it if he could change it?

    For too long had mankind been at the mercy of a flawed few, proclaiming greatness to all who would hear. But Adam had discovered another truth, hidden deep within the astral.

    There were no great men, only lucky men.

    No man was born with greatness, it was grown and nurtured in him by his experiences and allowed to shine through his circumstances.

    For too long had the people been denied the chance to become great.

    He looked up at the starry sky. The stars glittered with conceptions of half finished creations feeding him ideas and concepts, lifting him up.

    To stand on the shoulders of titans.

    His father had told him to create something new.

    And he would.

    A new world order, where men were not lorded over but rather ruled.

    Where all men could become great.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    In the following months Adam slowly and subtly relinquished more and more power. He created public committees to accomplish tasks and introduced concepts such as voting and elections. In the free time he gained, he wrote. There are many mediums of creation, but writing is perhaps the most powerful. The ability to bridge the abstract in the astral to the minds of mortals is a world-altering ability.

    Stolen story; please report.

    And Adam leveraged it to his full extent.

    Finally, 3 months after the death of Gabon, Adam addressed the people.

    ¡°I am stepping down.¡± He announced, ¡°Government shall now be in your hands. You shall elect officials and vote on laws. Create a better society.¡±

    He turned and simply left, leaving behind a shocked society.

    Simultaneously, his book, Greatness, was being handed out for free in cities all across the world, a task that had drained most of the Erduk fortune.

    The book truly was a masterpiece. A intricate intertwining of disciplines, it walked the line of philosophy, sociology, psychology, political science, economics and a dozen other disciplines, woven into a single quasi-divine narrative. Understandable even to the dullest.

    Upon opening the book, a single line stared back.

    ¡°partum fatum.¡±

    Create your fate.

    His words were a spark into dry tinder.

    The fire that followed was glorious

    Within a year, fed by a never ending stream of ideas and books from Adam, nearly every monarchy in surrounding countries had fallen in favor of forms of government proposed by Adam. Democracies and meritocracies abounded.

    While Adam opposed oppression he never argued for absolute equality, merely equality of chance. The distinguished deserved differentiation for seizing that chance, for creating their fate.

    Like a raging wildfire, or a holy disease, the ideology spread from country to country inspiring the people to rise up and throw off their shackles.

    Adam created luck, and people emerged greater.

    Upon his deathbed, Adam looked over a new world, a world where all had the chance to rise and all had the chance to fall. The sight fed his very soul, faith pouring into it like dry tinder being added to a fire, which blazed even as his body withered. God-Slayer was nowhere to be seen.

    He reached out, feeling the world he had created, the words he had written.

    And he relinquished his body, surrendering it to time.

    Instead he pressed his own path into words, further strengthening their power to bridge the astral, tying the realms closer together.

    It was not ascension in the usual way, but it was a form of ascension nonetheless.

    I wondered why he of all people had been the first to achieve his own form of quasi-divinity.

    Was it the power of his creation, strengthened by all that believed and acted on it? Was it the raw strength of his will? Was it the purity of his soul, inherited from Angelica herself?

    I still don''t know, and it haunts me.

    Divinity is an act of creation, of self-wrought existence.

    And creation is a divine act.

    Let there be light.

 31 - Snug

    In the ages long past, to forge oneself was a feat of legend, belonging only to the mightiest of the mighty. The chains bound the rest far too tight. Then my ancestors severed those chains. Jorhan an Erduk slew the false gods and Adam an Erduk toppled the last of the monarchs. Humanity was blessed with freedom, cursed with choice. They needed to grow into their new world, cast aside the flawed edicts of the old and embrace the laws of the new. And nowhere is this struggle more prevalent than in the battle of parent against child. I came across the story of Snug Walterson while reverently searching the archives. He embodies that struggle, forging himself to fit in a new world. He was not famous, not significant in the grand scheme of things, and yet his story holds the keys to ascension. To ascend is to grow, to change, to become something other. A battle he knew well. For he won it.

    ¡°And I don''t want to see you spending time with those Sarb bastards!¡± Snug¡¯s father roared, spittle flying from his lips, ¡°All they do is come over in wave after wave, depriving good folk of their jobs! And they spend their mo¡­¡±

    Snug tuned his angry rant out with practiced ease, observing the mad rage his father had worked himself into. He had only wanted to buy some mango, and to his surprise, he had been welcomed warmly. Warily, but warmly. It was the exact opposite of everything his friends and parents said it would be.

    He snapped back to reality just in time to see his mother place a hand on his fathers shoulder. He instantly deflated, the rage leaking out of him,

    ¡°Sorry, Snug.  It''s just¡­ The bastards can''t be trusted.¡±

    ¡°But why father? I see them in school. They joke and laugh just like us. What separates us?¡±

    ¡°Didn''t you get the crap beat out of you by Amir and his gang last week?¡±

    Snug shifted uncomfortably,

    ¡°Well, Yes. But I''m pretty sure we started it.¡±

    His father seemed to draw himself up in the beginning of another rant, only to be quelled by a sharp look from his mother.

    Chuckling ruefully, he responded,

    ¡°It''s just how it is. We are Eureks. And they are Sarbs¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    His father held up a hand, forestalling further questions,

    ¡°Not now, Snug. Why didn''t you do the dishes?¡±

    He kept thinking about the Sarbs all throughout the rest of the night, questioning what separated them. A vivid image of bright mangos in the dirty trash came to him. Delicious despite their circumstances.

    He still hadn''t found an answer when sleep came for him.

    ¡ª-----------------------

    For the next week, the question gnawed at him like a stubborn dog. What separated them? He tried explaining it to his friends, only to get waved off.

    ¡°They¡¯re Sarbs, we¡¯re Eureks. What''s there to question?¡± they would reply.

    Soon another question formulated in his mind; If the Eureks thought so lowly of the Sarbs, what did they think of the Eureks?

    The question burned away at him like nothing he had ever felt, and he frequently found himself staring at groups of Sarb children playing in the school yard. He noticed that the younger the children were, the more likely they were to intermix groups. The older the kids got the more clearly the factions were defined, until at Snug¡¯s positively ancient age of 16, there was absolutely no mixing.

    He wondered why.

    Finally, he could take it no more. When he saw Amira Farash eating her lunch alone, his curiosity turned into an untenable edict. Slowly he found himself drifting towards her, ignoring the gazes he was slowly accumulating in his approach. Then he stood before her, drowning in the eyes of the whole school.

    She looked up at him with eyes of beautiful amber against smooth brown skin,

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± she questioned, a faint hint of hostility bleeding through her voice.

    He started, remembering the question her eyes had washed away.

    ¡°Umm¡­¡± he started, feeling the weight of the watching eyes, ¡°Do Sarbs, ummm, dislike Eureks?¡±

    She observed him with a small frown, before nodding to herself.

    He leaned forward, almost feeling his ears grow larger, apprehension painting him as a boy teetering on the precipice of the unfathomable.

    ¡°Yes.¡± she simply stated.

    In a world of frozen time Snug found himself rearing back like a struck animal. Why? What he had done? The urge to lash out reared its ugly head before his better mind prevailed. He had asked, she had answered. But he still didn''t understand.

    In real time, he managed to keep within the flow of conversation,

    ¡°Why?¡± he questioned, desire burning at him.

    Amira raised a eyebrow at him,

    ¡°You want a list?¡±

    A chuckle from a nearby Sarb made Snug flush with embarrassment, but he soldiered on.

    ¡°Uhhh¡­ Sure?¡±

    She laughed then, a sound of pure disbelief.

    ¡°You don''t sound so sure.¡±

    Snug adjusted his feet and stood ramrod straight,

    ¡°I¡¯m sure¡± he restated, applying every ounce of surety he could.

    She chuckled, then shrugged.

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    And the blazing light of truth smote Snug off the pedestal of the righteousness..

    ¡ª--------------------------

    That night Snug, deep in his tattered covers, stared up at the distant ceiling, absentmindedly reaching a hand out to the drawing of Justice man plaster across his ceiling. He had always wanted to be like a justice man. Fair, and strong. Always helping out and being kind. And he thought he had achieved that, lived up to the ideals Justice Man represented. Amira¡¯s brutal rant had destroyed that self image.

    There is a peculiar phenomena that occurs in the minds of mortals. They cannot live with a mental image that contradicts their actions. A curious peculiarity that came to be called cognitive dissonance. In the face of its onslaught there are only two options. Change one''s mental image to fit their actions, or change one''s actions to fit their mental image. I have seen the lives of countless mortals, and rare are those that commit to changing their actions. It''s simply too easy to shift one''s mental image. Yet there are still those that commit to change. Those are the ones that change the world.

    Around Snug, the world seemed to spin, his very conception of the world shredded in the maelstrom of Amira¡¯s biting words. How could he have been so blind to the naked truth? His people tormented Amira¡¯s. His fathers rants came back in a new light, hateful instead of annoying. The world spun faster, a storm of pain struggling to destroy his innermost self.

    In ages long past, that is where he would have fallen, the storm ripping his ego out of him, remolding it to preserve his sanity. He would have simply lacked the capacity and knowledge, through no fault of his own, to see any other way. But the world was different now. More free. Everybody had been granted the instruments of self-creation, the instruments of greatness.

    In the eye of the storm Snug fought, desperately holding on to his idealized version of himself. Just when all seemed lost, a voice pierced the roaring vortex of memory.

    ¡°Fear not! Justice Man is here!¡±

    The minds of children function in strange ways.

    A man floated in front of Snug, clad in the form-fitting bodysuit of red and black, with a maroon cape twirling in the tempest.

    ¡°Justice Man!¡± Snug cried, ¡°Save me!¡±

    But Justice Man merely smiled down at Snug, as he was prone to do.

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t. This is beyond me. Only you can save yourself.¡±

    ¡°But how?¡± Snug cried, ¡°How can I be good if what Amira said is true? How can I be good if I¡¯ve only caused her pain?¡±

    ¡°I understand the feeling. I¡¯ve caused plenty of pain in my time. Remember when I fought Red Devil in Metan City.Remember what happened?¡±

    Snug frowned, momentarily forgetting the storm as he dug through his memories. He was a dedicated fan! How could he forget! He recalled the dusty pages of the comic book, the struggle of reading while crammed next to 5 other boys. Then he knew,

    ¡°The orphanage!¡± he yelled, pointing at Justice Man, ¡°The orphanage got destroyed! All those kids died!¡±

    Justice Man winced,

    ¡°And their screams still haunt my dream. But what did I do?¡±

    ¡°You¡­ You rebuilt the orphanage and you gave all of Vex Flare¡¯s stolen money to them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I broke something. So I fixed it. To the best of my abilities. I will never atone for the lives I reaped on that day, but I let the experience teach me. Make me better.¡±

    Snug was silent.

    ¡°Remember what I told Bluejay when he failed to catch Jaguar Women?¡±

    The words came to Snug like a buoy in the cold dark water, piercing the storm to offer glorious salvation.

    ¡°If you make a mistake,¡± Snug whispered, ¡°Fix it.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Justice Man replied, ¡°We all make mistakes. What makes a hero is fixing those mistakes.¡±

    Snug though long and hard on those words, the storm around him calming in the face of his budding epiphany.

    ¡°We have hurt Amira¡¯s people,¡± he whispered, ¡°But maybe¡­ I could heal that. Prove that we are not bad. Meet rage with kindness.¡±

    He smiled. Justice Man was gone, but Snug no longer needed him. He knew the way.

    His sleep was peaceful.

 31.2 - A Good Man

    The next day, Snug got up early and snuck to the Sarb market. Using the spare change he had managed to gather, he bought a mango. A mango for Amira. Reparations would start today.

    All morning, the mango burned like a hot coal in his pocket, a reminder of the daunting task ahead. Snug was not deterred. He knew what Justice Man would have wanted. He knew what he wanted.

    Finally, lunch came and he found himself nervously approaching Amira once more, mango in hand.

    She looked up as he approached, annoyance clear on her face.

    ¡°What do you want now?¡± she questioned, exasperation clear in her voice.

    Snug steeled his nerves and replied,

    ¡°I thought about what you said yesterday, and¡­¡±

    ¡°And what?¡±

    ¡°And¡­ And I want to help!¡± he found himself blurting.

    Amira looked at him like he¡¯d grown a third eye.

    ¡°With what?¡± a touch of something in her voice warned him to tread lightly.

    ¡°Well¡­ you were talking about how Eureks made it hard for you guys. I want to help.¡±

    Now she was looking at him like he¡¯d grown a fourth eye,

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­ I don''t know?¡±

    ¡°Th¡­¡±

    He quickly forestalled her response,

    ¡°But I have a mango!¡±

    For a second she was silent, looking at the offered mango, then back at his face, then back at the mango.

    Then she burst out laughing. Snug tried not to feel offended as the laughter continued to grow, drawing the attention of the whole schoolyard. He was beginning to lose patience when he needed to intervene after she started to choke.

    After she had hacked all the food out she fixed him with an angry amber gaze.

    ¡°What? I saved you from choking!¡± He defended himself against the unspoken accusation.

    ¡°You made me choke in the first place!¡±

    ¡°I just offered you a mango!¡±

    That started another round of laughter.

    When she finally calmed down her face took on a more thoughtful expression.

    ¡°Are you serious about helping?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡± Snug replied without hesitation.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Snug did hesitate on that question, taking his time to think before finally formulating a answer,

    ¡°I just¡­ I just don''t want to be the type of person that leaves something like this. My people have wronged yours. I want to make it right.¡±

    She fixed him with a considering gaze, amber eyes drilling deep into him until it got uncomfortable.

    ¡°Well¡­ If you''re serious I guess we could use a bit of help around the store.¡°

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Only because you made me laugh so hard¡±

    The look on his face made her laugh again.

    ¡°Meet at the gates 10 minutes after the last bell.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡±

    For a second he continued to stand there before Amira spoke,

    ¡°Sooo¡­ are you just going to stand there¡­?¡±

    Her voice snapped him back to reality.

    ¡°Oh. Sorry.¡± the remembering the mango in his hand he stretched it out again,

    ¡°Do you want it?¡±

    She looked at the mango, then back at him. And she smiled. A radiant expression that set her amber eyes alight.

    ¡°Thank you.¡¯ she said, taking the mango from him.

    ¡ª---------------------

    For the rest of the day Snug could hardly focus, drawing the ire of his teachers.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    He was going to fix his people''s mistakes! He was going to be like Justice Man!

    The final bell found Snug bolting out of his seat and frantically sprinting to the meeting spot.

    Where he was forced to wait for 10 minutes,

    ¡°How long have you been waiting?¡± Amira questioned.

    ¡°Umm¡­ 10 minutes?¡±

    ¡°You do know the meeting was planned for 10 minutes after the bell¡± she replied with a raised brow.

    ¡°I knew that! I¡­¡± he sheepishly ran a hand through his brown hair, ¡°I just didn''t want to accidentally miss it.¡±

    Amira surveyed him.

    ¡°Why are you so eager to help?¡±

    Snug sighed,

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always seen myself as a good person, you know? The type of guy that helps old ladies find their cats and steps in to save someone from a beating. It''s who I am, and who I want to be.¡±

    He looked down and toed the dirt,

    ¡°When you told me about the things my people have been doing¡­ it damaged the image. It damaged me. How could I be a good person if I just stood by and watched? I made a mistake, my people made a mistake.¡±

    He looked back up at her, words gaining intensity,

    ¡°When you make a mistake you must fix it!¡±

    Then, as if realizing the volume of his voice, he once more looked down and continued toeing the dirt,

    ¡°A least that''s what Justice Man says¡±

    He only realized his mistake when Amira¡¯s questioning words made him raise his head,

    ¡°Justice Man?¡±

    ¡°Nothing! Nothing important!¡±

    She smiled at that, the glint in her eyes teaching Snug the meaning of terror. She hooked her arm in his and started to drag him off.

    ¡°Why don''t you tell me about this ¡®Justice Man¡¯¡±

    The laughter in her voice dunked Snug in the ice cold winds of fear.

    This was going to be a long walk.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    ¡°...and then he flattened his warship in a single blow!¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, It was so cool!¡±

    ¡°I need to see this comic.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bring it tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Oh, look,¡± Amira pointed at a small drugstore, ¡°There it is.¡±

    Snug entered with a heavy sense of trepidation. This was the moment that would decide if it was even possible to atone. The bell on the door chimed with their entry, sending a tinkling melody through the small store. It was cramped but clean, with rows of shelves stuffed to the bursting with all sorts of essential wares. Food, drink, candy, and small toys all graced the shelves with their presence. It reminded him of his grandmother''s apartment. Old, but well-loved.

    His contemplation was interrupted by heavy footsteps,

    ¡°Ami? Is that you?¡±

    ¡°Ami?¡± Snug mouthed at Amira.

    She flushed red and glared at him, and without breaking eye contact replied,

    ¡°Yes. Abba. And I brought a friend.¡± The glare accompanying her last word sent cold sweat rolling down Snug¡¯s back. ¡°He wants to help around the store.¡±

    ¡°Sure, help¡¯s always appreciated. What¡¯s their name¡­¡±

    He froze as he saw Snug.

    He was a tall man, well muscled despite his apparent profession. With Amira¡¯s amber eyes and tawny complexion. He was the type of man that could break Snug over one knee.

    Snug swallowed.

    ¡°What is this¡­ Eurek doing in my store?¡± He questioned, malice dripping from his every word.

    His tone struck Snug as further proof of Amira¡¯s words. That type of hatred was not nurtured over nothing. It was an odd reflection of his father and for a second he saw his father overlapped with Amira¡¯s and himself with Amira.

    A familiar argument.

    ¡°He wants to help.¡± Amira replied defiantly.

    ¡°A Eurek. In my store.¡± he enunciated, as if tasting the words.

    ¡°He¡¯s not like the others. He really does want to help.¡±

    Her father put a hand over his forehead,

    ¡°You always did like the strays, didnt you? Where¡¯d you find this one? The steel factories?¡±

    ¡°He''s from school.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°He¡­He¡­He gave me a mango!¡± Amira sputtered.

    Snug now understood why she¡¯d been laughing earlier. It was such an absurd thing to say.

    Forcing down laughter, he focused on the task on hand. He could see where this was going. Amira was going to fail, and his chance at redemption would go away.

    He wouldn''t let that happen.

    Alone they fell short, but perhaps together¡­

    Snug found himself taking a step forward, words tumbling from his mouth,

    ¡°Sir¡­ Mr. Farash. I truly do want to help.¡±

    Amira shot him a look of alarm as her fathers attention shifted to him, like the gaze of a man on a bug.

    ¡°Why?¡± he drawled.

    Snug drew himself up, praying that just this one time he would be listened to,

    ¡°Your daughter has shown me the way in which I have failed your community, and I want to fix that, atone for my failure.¡±

    ¡°And how have you failed us?¡±

    Snug was momentarily surprised by the question before gathering himself,

    ¡°I was unaware of the difficulties your people have faced from mine. And because of that unawareness I did nothing to stop it.¡±

    ¡°And why would you want to stop it?¡±

    It seemed so obvious to Snug,

    ¡°Because that¡¯s the right thing to do.¡±

    He barely stopped himself from talking more about Justice Man.

    Amira took that chance to jump in,

    ¡°He really is sincere. Please Abba, give him a chance.¡±

    Mr. Farash looked between them before letting out a sigh.

    ¡°Fine. But I ain''t paying no Eurek. If you want to work, work. But you¡¯re not getting anything for it. Start by unpacking those boxes in the corner¡± he said, pointing.

    And with those last words he stomped out of the room.

    Amira tuned to face Snug,

    ¡°Happy no¡­¡±

    Snug¡¯s tackle hug interrupted her.

    ¡°Thank you¡± he whispered.

    After a moment of frozen shook she clumsily patted him on the back,

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome? Why is this such a big deal to you?¡±

    He pulled back and looked at her with watery eyes,

    ¡°Because it gives me a chance to become who i ve always wanted to be.¡±

    ¡°Justice Man?¡± Amira guessed.

    ¡°No. Well I mean yes. But a man that is good. And this is a start to achieving that.¡±

    ¡°Well¡± Amira replied awkwardly, ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And thank you for helping me against Abba.¡±

    Snug chuckled,

    ¡°My dad¡¯s just like that.¡±

    ¡°Really? Because one time¡­¡±

    The stories continued to flow with the stacking of boxes.

 31.3 - The Mango and The Kiss

    Life fell into a familiar cycle.

    Wake up, Eat, go to school, eat lunch with Amria, more classes, walk to the store with Amira, spend hours helping around the store with Amira, walk home, eat dinner, go to bed.

    Repeat.

    Snug was happier than ever. It was easy to believe oneself a good man when there was no resistance, but it was only in resistance that title was judged.

    Snug was being judged, and he was being found worthy.

    He finally felt like he was doing something worthwhile.

    Everyday he felt like he understood more of the Sarb culture.

    They were close knit and protective of each other but cold to outsiders.

    That made every smile he got and every laugh he provoked that much more valuable.

    He felt like Justice Man, soaring through the bones of a war torn city, smiting beasts of hate and prejudice.

    Of course not all was perfect.

    ¡ª----------------------

    ¡°Where have you been disappearing too boy?¡± Snug¡¯s dad questioned suspiciously, ¡°You vanish every night, and none of your friends know where you''re going.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I¡­¡± Snug begun,

    ¡°Bullshit, you can¡¯t poss¡­¡±

    ¡°John!¡± Snugs mother hollered as she emerged from the kitchen, ¡°Leave the boy alone. He looks famished.¡± She set a bowl of chicken soup in front of him.

    ¡°Besides¡± she continued, giving Snug a sly smile, ¡°i think I know where he¡¯s been¡­¡±

    Snug felt himself turning red as frantic denials sprang to his tongue, only to die in his lips as he really considered what she was hinting at. Were he and Amira really¡­

    He felt himself blush even deeper.

    His mother only laughed

    ¡ª----------------------

    The next day he asked Amira if he could take the day off to catch up with his friends.

    She just smiled at him,

    ¡°I was wondering when you''d ask. Getting tired of all the work?¡±

    ¡°No! Of course not! It''s just¡­ I haven''t seen them in a while.¡±

    She put a gentle hand on his arm. For some reason it seemed to sear into his very skin.

    Her smile nearly blinded him, amber eyes shining and he desperately steered his mind away from some more¡­ indecent thoughts.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok. I understand. Have fun.¡±

    He just stared at her, wondering how one person could shine so bright.

    She raised an eyebrow,

    ¡°Do I have something on my face?¡±

    ¡°No. No. It''s just¡­¡± You¡¯re beautiful. The words died in his throat.

    Panic became him.

    ¡°See you tomorrow!¡± He yelled as he executed a desperate retreat.

    ¡ª----------------------

    Later, after a long night of laughing and messing around, Snug found himself sitting around a small fire in the middle of an abandoned steel factory.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    He sighed contentedly as he took in his friends around him. It was nice to be back.

    He let the heat and scattered conversation lull him into a trance-like state, basking in their presence. For a time, all was right. Then the questions started.

    ¡°Snug, why are you spending so much time with that Sarb girl?¡± Ricky questioned.

    ¡°Yeah¡± Johnny chimed in, ¡°It was funny at first, sticking it to Amir and his thugs, but this has gone on for quite a while now. What¡¯s your endgame?¡±

    ¡°Guys, I told you why I¡¯m doing this.¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah.¡± Ricky responded, ¡°But we kinda thought you''d be over it by now. You know you can''t just fix,¡± he airquoted, ¡°Years of hate and fighting. It¡¯s been like this for decades, and it will continue to be so.¡±

    ¡°Not with that attitude,¡± Snug retorted, ¡°What would Justice Man say?¡±

    ¡°Grow up Snug¡± Johnny snorted, ¡°Justice Man¡¯s not real.¡±

    Snug quickly switched courses,

    ¡°Guys we don''t need to be bound by the agendas of our parents. Look around you!¡± he cried, spreading his arms into the darkness, ¡°We are surrounded by miracles that a mere decade ago would seem like magic. We have the opportunity to change. The opportunity to make something of ourselves!¡± His words rang through the factory

    ¡°Why shouldn''t we?¡± he continued, voice dropping to reverany whisper, ¡°Make peace and rise together. The world is new. We can be too.¡±

    For a moment the world was filled with only the faint crackling of the fire and the dancing shadows it created. A moment of peace and hope, the silence in the wake of a storm.

    Alas, the words of the wise are not often heeded.

    The storm began anew,

    ¡°Where are you getting this stuff?¡± Ricky asked incredulously, ¡°That sure as hell wasn''t from Justice Man.¡±

    ¡°I''ve been reading,¡± Snug replied, suddenly uncomfortable. People were usually more receptive to his arguments, although it probably should be noted he¡¯d only talked to Amira about them.

    ¡°Reading what?¡± Johnny chimed in, equally incredulous.

    ¡°Philosophy. Adam an Erduk. Kramer. Brawnhold.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡± Andrew chuckled from his reclined position, ¡°That explains the sudden insanity.¡±

    Low peals of laughter rang out from around the fire.

    ¡°Yeah man¡± Johnny continued, ¡°just get the girl and get out.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a real looker, ain¡¯t she.¡± Another voice cut in.

    Ricky patted him on the back sympathetically,

    ¡°Sorry, Man. It''s just not how things work.¡±

    ¡°That''s the point!¡± Snug snapped, ¡°We can change how things work!¡±

    ¡°You and what army?¡± another voice interrupted.

    Laughter abounded.

    Something in Snug snapped. He stood and surveyed the gathered boys, his once-brothers.

    ¡°I had hoped it would be you guys.¡±

    That shut them up, with Ricky even looking ashamed.

    ¡°Wait, Snug! Wait!¡±

    But Snug was already gone.

    ¡ª-----------------------

    Snug streaked through the night, knowing not where his feet were taking him. How could they be so shortsighted? So cruel? He just wanted the fighting to stop.

    He was panting when he finally stopped and looked up. His feet had taken him right below Amira¡¯s room. The light was still shining from within.

    He stopped for a moment, considering if this was a good idea, but a sob erupting deep from his chest reminded him of the stakes. He needed support. Or he could snap.

    He tumbled through her window with a muted thud, sending a few of her many cats scrambling for cover.

    ¡°Snug?¡± she questioned, voice high with surprise, ¡°What are you doi¡­¡±

    Her questions died in her throat as she beheld his shaking. She got on her knees before him, taking his hands.

    ¡°Snug, what happened?¡± she asked, the worry in her voice so thick it could almost be touched.

    Quiet sobs tore out of him as she took him in her arms. He loved that about her. Her willingness to care, even if it cost her. In her arms he wasn''t alone.

    Slowly he began to retell the events of the evening. The joy of the beginning and all the fun they had. Then what they had said, how they had laughed.

    ¡°They were my brothers,¡± he sobbed, ¡°I wanted better for them. Not to fall into this gods be damned pit of hate and violence.¡±

    He sobbed some more, accompanied by only Amira¡¯s murmured nonsense.

    When he finally stopped, he felt wrung out.

    Tired.

    He opened his eyes to find his head laying in her lap, her head hovering over his, beautiful amber eyes drilling into his own dull brown orbs.

    Without another word she leaned over, pitch black hair cascading over his face, and he felt her lips meet his own.

    For a moment all was right, then she pulled back.

    ¡°I love you.¡± she whispered, ¡°Your willingness to fight for what¡¯s right. Your endless hope. Even your stupid obsession with Justice Man. I love it all.¡±

    Even as stunned as he was, he managed to muster up a response,

    ¡°I love you, too,¡± he whispered back, ¡°Your caring presence and kindness. Your willingness to stand up for me. Even with Mr. Mittens.¡±

    The aforementioned cat hissed at Snug from its perch on Amira¡¯s bed and they both simultaneously looked at the scar on his hand, trying not to laugh.

    Then Amira reached over and grabbed something off the bed.

    She hovered it over his head,

    ¡°Mango?¡±

    This time they couldn''t control their laughter.

 31.4 - Broken Faith

    Tucked into a corner of the store, Snug felt content.

    Here the darkness and cold couldn''t touch him.

    For a new sun blazed.

    Amira wiggled in his arms, letting out a contented sigh as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

    Snug didn''t understand how he had lived before her. Whenever they were apart, the world somehow seemed dimmer, like something had been ripped from it.

    And whenever he saw her, it brightened to almost painful heights, like a star had descended to the mortal earth.

    This was something beyond the understanding of men.

    My son¡¯s power held, even after all the ages, its light blessing the worthy.

    His contented musing was interrupted by Mr. Mittens¡¯ hissing approach.

    Amira shifted to give him a quick peck,

    ¡°You better go back to the front desk now.¡± she said reluctantly.

    ¡°Do I have to?¡± Snug questioned.

    She chuckled, gave him another peck and slipped out of his arms. Groaning, Snug rose to his feet and straightened his clothes.

    Waiting at the front desk was Amir, leader of the Sarb boys.

    Internally Snug groaned recalling the first time Amir had found him here. If not for Amira he wasn''t sure he would have made it back in one piece. Ever since Amir had taken every opportunity to come and harass Snug. He had made it plain that Snug wasn''t welcome.

    Amir¡¯s eyes followed Amira as she headed upstairs, his interest plain.

    Fighting down his ire, Snug politely asked Amir if he needed help.

    Strangely the boy seemed hesitant as he responded,

    ¡°I¡­ I wanted to apologize.¡±

    Snug was so shocked he almost fell over.

    ¡°When you first started working here,¡± he continued, ¡°I was suspicious. I thought it was another ploy to humiliate the Sarbs. But you have proved me wrong. I heard about the argument you had with Ricky and his thugs,¡±

    Again it struck Snug how similar Amir and Ricky were. Both prideful yet fair. So many people among the Sarbs and Eureks were mirrors of each other. If only they could see it.

    Amir continued,

    ¡°That took guts. You deserve more respect than I gave you. For that I''m sorry.¡±

    For a second Snug was silent, struggling to push his shocked brain into action.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± he finally managed to reply, ¡°That means a lot.¡±

    Amir nodded stiffly,

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±

    The silence between them soon grew awkward.

    ¡°So¡­ is there anything else.¡± Snug questioned.

    ¡°Actually,¡± Amir replied hesitantly, ¡°I was wondering if you could explain why you¡¯re doing this again?¡±

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    Snug was once more taken aback. They truly had done these people a disservice by listing them as lesser. Amir was showing far more flexibility and foresight than any Eurek.

    ¡°It all started when I asked Amira if¡­¡±

    The conversation continued for hours.

    Bringing with it visions of peace.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    For a time, all was peaceful. The seeds Snug had planted were beginning to sprout, their roots pulling the Sarbs and Eureks closer together than ever. Hostility was still plentiful, but it was lower than ever before. For a time it seemed that Snug would succeed in uniting the disparate groups into one.

    Alas, nothing is ever so easy.

    The storm came on a warm Sunday morning.

    Tucked into a small nook nestled between 2 trees, Amira and Snug cuddled under the spring sun, enjoying the warmth.

    Snug let out a sigh,

    ¡°Amira?¡±

    ¡°Yes, love?¡±

    ¡°When are we going to tell them?¡±

    ¡°Tell who?¡±

    ¡°Your family, Amir. I worry that if they see us together they might get the wrong idea.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And what''s the idea?¡± she replied, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

    Snug hurriedly continued,

    ¡°I worry they might think I made all of this up to get you. I worry that our relationship might break what we¡¯ve built.¡±

    ¡°And why is that?¡±

    Snug sighed,

    ¡°If they think I came here for you, it will confirm their suspicions no matter how irrational. They will stop seeing me as a boy who simply wants peace and see me once more as a boy who came to steal one of their daughters.¡±

    Amira rolled over to stare at him,

    ¡°Who says I can be stolen?¡± she challenged.

    Her challenging eyes were too much to resist, and he leaned in to kiss her eyelids.

    ¡°You know what I mean,¡± he entreated as he pulled away, ¡°how old fashioned some of them are.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know¡± Amira acknowledged, ¡°But together we can get through this. We will realize our dream.¡±

    They continued to snuggle, unaware of the small boy watching them in shock.

    ¡ª------------------------

    When they got home, they found Amira¡¯s father talking to Amir in the front of the store. Snug¡¯s stomach dropped as he saw their expressions. He stepped forward, raising his hands,

    ¡°I can explain.¡± he desperately entreated.

    Amira¡¯s father turned on him, rage in his eyes,

    ¡°I trusted you boy! I believed in you! I fell for your stupid message! I thought there could be peace!¡±

    I have witnessed many types of rage in the eternity of my existence. Cold and hot. Impulsive and targeted. Yet none compare to the rage of the men of broken faith. There is no fury greater than that of the scorned believer.

    Except for perhaps that of a scorned lover.

    In the face of the barrage, Snug desperately turned to Amir for support, hoping the friendship they had built up would compel Amir to defend him. Only to find that rage mirrored, mirrored alongside heartbreak.

    Snug¡¯s heart fell as he watched everything he had built begin to unravel.

    ¡°Thief!¡± Amira¡¯s father roared, a blow to Snug¡¯s racing heart, ¡°You came here not to spread peace, but to steal my daughter!¡±

    In the face of such rage Snug faltered. And in his place Amira stepped forward.

    ¡°I love him, Abba! I love him because of his desire for peace! You have no right to interfere!¡±

    Her father shouted something back, but Snug was too busy reeling to catch it.

    It was the same god damned argument. The same argument he fought against his dad, the same argument they had had on the first day Snug started working. The words were different, but the essence was the same. The old oppressed the new, telling them they didn''t understand. That they weren''t ready. Well Snug rebelled against that. He had seen what their reality was. He would not stand for it.

    Amira¡¯s father¡¯s words snapped back into clarity,

    ¡°You¡¯re too young to understand.¡± he snapped, ¡°let the adults handle this.¡±

    He looked at Amira, beautiful as she fought the same battle. He reached out and took her hand, forestalling her response. Together they could win.

    ¡°Sir, I love your daughter.¡± he stated, gathering the full weight of his ethos behind it.

    Amira¡¯s father actually stopped for a second, looking surprised at their intertwined hands.

    This was their chance.

    But they forgot something. Amira¡¯s father was no longer alone. Perhaps the rage of a scorned lover is greater after all.

    Snug opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Amir.

    ¡°You would dare claim her in front of us!¡± he roared, ¡°How dare you!¡±

    His words spurred Amira¡¯s father into action and together they pushed Amira and Snug back.

    They fought for their dreams with all they had, but sometimes hate, no matter how short lived, prevails.

    In the end, Amira kneeled in the dirt road, tears streaming from her face as Snug was carried away.

 31.5 - Peacemaker

    To Amira it all seemed like a bad dream. How could Abba do this to her? Couldn''t he see that she loved Snug?

    She was scared. She didn''t know what they were going to do to Snug. She didn''t know if live without him. He was her sun, the passionate presence that warmed her days.

    How could she live without her sun?

    Quiet tears streaked down her cheeks as her mind whirled, desperately searching for a way to save him.

    In the end only one answer came to mind. It would likely ruin everything that they had built. It would destroy Snug¡¯s dream.

    But she didn''t care.

    She just wanted Snug to be safe.

    So, with a tear streaked face and a heavy heart, Amira set out to find Ricky.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    Snug woke up in the dark, and was immediately met with the legions of pain. He appeared to be tied to a chair.

    A low groan escaped him as he tried to struggle free. Strangely enough, all he could think of was Justice Man Issue #27, where Justice Man had been in a very similar situation.

    What did he do? Snug thought groggily.

    The answer came in the form of his finger brushing the corner of a concrete pillar.

    Justice Man had rubbed the rope against the surface until it frayed and broke.

    Justice Man had made it look much easier than it actually was, and in the end, it took 15 minutes of grueling effort.

    Free once more, Snug rolled his wrist and silently thanked Justice Man.

    He was in what looked like a basement, pitch black except from a single ray of light spearing out from under a high door. Snug carefully began to make his way to that sliver of light, nearly tripping as he got to the stairs. Finally, his grasping hand found the door handle, and with a grunt he pushed it open.

    The first thing he noticed was the sound of faint shouting.

    He stood in a sparse living room, adorned only with a single sofa and armchair. A heavy wooden door cordoned the room off from the outside world. As Snug approached that door, the sound of shouting only grew. His heart began to race.

    Then his hand was on the door handle, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn''t know what awaited him, but he had a suspicion. If his suspicion was correct, what he did next would either see his dreams realized or shattered. He knew what Justice Man would do, but for the first time he wondered if he could truly follow in the hero¡¯s footsteps.

    Justice Man would have never been captured so easily.

    Snug closed his eyes, hand on the door handle, and retreated to that place he had discovered in the wake of his first meeting with Amira.

    Justice Man appeared in front of him, red cape twirling in an invisible breeze.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± he questioned, ¡°You know what to do.¡±

    ¡°Do I?¡± Snug responded, ¡°I¡¯m just a kid. Look at the mess I caused.¡± He waved an arm and the emptiness filled with visions.

    Amir¡¯s heartbroken face. Amira¡¯s tears. Her father¡¯s rage.

    ¡°Of course you do. Look at what you¡¯ve accomplished.¡±

    His wave struck the vision of defeat from the sky and replaced them with visions of peace.

    Amira in his arms. Amir smiling at something he had said. A Eurek and Sarb man shaking hands with a smile on their faces.

    Snug just shook his head, and the visions vanished,

    ¡°I ruined that. I was so stupid.¡±

    ¡°What would you have done? Given up Amira?¡± Justice Man countered.

    Snug hesitated,

    ¡°No, but I could have been more careful, prepared better. Now my dreams burn, and I can''t save them.¡±

    Justice Man moved closer, looming over Snug,

    ¡°Is that what a hero does?¡± He questioned, voice rising.

    ¡°No¡­bu¡±

    ¡°Are those the ideas you idolize? Giving up?¡±

    ¡°No! Bu¡±

    ¡°Is that what Justice Man would do?¡± His voice was sharp, incisive.

    And Snug could contain himself no longer.

    ¡°No! But I am not you! I am not Justice Man! I¡¯m just a kid who got in way over his head, and fell in love with a girl way too good for him, and¡­ and¡­ and fucked it all up!¡±

    Tear began to stream down his face, his chest racking with sobs,

    ¡°I fucked it all up.¡± he whispered to himself.

    Justice Man was silent, and for a time all that could be heard were soft sobs.

    Finally, a soft whisper split the silence,

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±

    Snug¡¯s sobbing stopped.

    ¡°Justice Man is not a person. It is a mantle. A mantle of a man willing to stand in the face of injustice. Willing to stand in the face of hate and prejudice. I donned this mantle the second I accepted that part of myself. The second I made the fight against injustice my fight. You think yourself unworthy of the mantle. You think me greater than you.¡±

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    He hovered over to Snug and pulled him up to his feet.

    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±

    Snug shook his head hesitantly.

    Justice Man reached behind his head and slowly peeled off his ever present red mask.

    Under it was a familiar face.

    It was Snug¡¯s.

    ¡°I am you. I always have been.¡±

    He offered Snug the mask,

    ¡°My mantle is yours because we are the same.¡±

    Snug looked this doppelganger with shock,

    ¡°Does this mean¡­¡±

    The doppelganger smiled,

    ¡°Yes. You are Justice Man.¡±

    Slowly, reverently, Snug pulled the mask over his face. The word slowly found himself back in the real world, hand still on the handle. He instinctively knew he would never see Justice Man again.

    Because he was Justice Man.

    It was time to show them what that meant.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    Outside the door, two groups faced each other in a wary standoff. The Eureks and the Sarbs. A struggle as old as time itself. Both groups were composed of a mix of kids and adults.

    The evening sun lit the dusk up with a myriad of warm colors, creating a scene out of a painting.

    But the two sides only had eyes for the violence yet to occur.

    Ricky stepped forward, flanked by Snug¡¯s dad and Amira. They were met by Amir, Amira¡¯s father and another man. Both were accompanied by the shouting of their men.

    ¡°Let, Snug go.¡± Ricky demanded, voice fighting to be heard over the shouting, ¡°he only wanted what was best for you.¡±

    Amir sneered,

    ¡°What¡¯s best for us? He only wanted Amira.¡±

    ¡°Our relationship has nothing to do with Snug¡¯s desire for peace, Amir!¡± Amira retorted, ¡°He just wanted the fighting to stop. And this is how you repay him?¡±

    ¡°Amira,¡± Amir entreated, ¡°he is manipulating you.¡±

    ¡°No, Amir, he is not. He loves me and I love him.¡±

    Amir¡¯s face twisted in rage, and he opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Amira¡¯s father.

    ¡°Amira, this is foolishness. Call off your Eurek dogs.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not dogs, Abba. And we¡¯re not leaving until you give us Snug.¡±

    ¡°He still needs to pay for his deceptions.¡±

    That caught Snug¡¯s father¡¯s attention,

    ¡°What are you bastards doing to my son?!¡± he roared.

    ¡°Only what he deserves.¡± Amira¡¯s father replied.

    Ricky was forced to restrain Snug¡¯s father as he attempted to lunge at Amira¡¯s father.

    ¡°Mr. Walterson, please control yourself.¡±

    The turning to the Sarb representatives he spoke,

    ¡°We have come to believe in Snug¡¯s words. I don''t want violence. Release Snug and all will be forgiven.¡±

    Amir spit at him in response.

    Ricky sighed,

    ¡°I thought better of you Amir. Very well. We will solve this like dumb brutes.¡±

    The two sides stepped back to their respective sides, and prepared to escalate the violence.

    Only to be interrupted by an opening door.

    And the figure that walked out of it.

    Snug looked horrible, filthy and coated in dried blood. He looked like a homeless man and moved like a cripple. Yet he drew every eye on the soon-to-be battlefield.

    ¡°Snug!¡± Amira cried.

    He gave her a sad smile, before turning his attention to the broader battlefield.

    ¡°There will be no fighting today!¡± he announced.

    ¡°Really? And why is that?¡± Amir yelled back.

    ¡°Because I will be accepting any punishment you see fit to inflict upon me.¡±

    That shut Amir up.

    ¡°You doubt my message. Doubt my integrity. Doubt my intentions. Let me put the doubt to rest. I will act as the price of peace.¡±

    This time it was Ricky that objected,

    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving you to these bastards, Snug!¡±

    ¡°They aren''t bastards. They are people. That is the first thing you need to see.¡±

    ¡°My point stands, Snug! We won''t leave you!¡±

    ¡°Ricky, if you have ever trusted me, then trust me once more. This is the way.¡±

    Ricky looked down at his feet, seeming unsure, only to have his voice replaced by Snug¡¯s father.

    ¡°Snug, don''t listen to these ba¡­¡±

    ¡°Quiet, dad¡± Snug interrupted, ¡°I''m done arguing with you. I am my own man. I can make my own decisions.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re only 17!¡±

    ¡°That''s not what makes a man a man. A man is somebody with an ideal, a bottom line. This is my bottom line. And I refuse to cross it.¡±

    ¡°Snug¡­ don¡¯t do this.¡± Amira¡¯s soft voice carried across the Sarbs.

    He turned to smile sadly at her,

    ¡°This is the dream, love. This is the dream.¡±

    Then he turned back to address everyone,

    ¡°There will be no conflict today! Is! That! Understood!¡±

    Slowly, but surely a wave of uncertain nods spread throughout the crowd.

    Snug relaxed,

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Then he turned to walk back into the house.

    ¡°Why?¡± Amira¡¯s father¡¯s voice split the air.

    Snug stopped and slowly turned to face him,

    ¡°Because this is the dream. Peace.¡±

    ¡°But how! It has always been like this!¡±

    ¡°I have told you once, and I shall tell you once more. The world is new. We can be new too.¡±

    Amira¡¯s father¡¯s eyes darted wildly between Snug''s calm acceptance and Amira¡¯s tear streaked face.

    ¡°God damn it boy,¡± he yelled, throwing down the crude knife he held in his hand, ¡°why are you so fucking hard to deal with.¡±

    Snug slowly turned around and walked up to Amira¡¯s father,

    ¡°Change is often hard, Mr. Farash,¡± he said once he stood before him, ¡°But it is necessary.¡±

    Mr. Farash looked down at Snug with conflicted expression, before finally sighing.

    ¡°You have my blessing, Snug.¡±

    ¡°What? No!¡± Amir yelled, ¡°You ca¡­¡±

    ¡°Quiet boy. You''ve caused enough trouble.¡±

    Then turning to the people behind him he addressed them,

    ¡°Snug¡¯s right. We got no reason to keep this conflict going. Let it die with the setting of the sun.¡±

    Then turning to Snug he continued,

    ¡°Come, let me introduce you to my daughter.¡±

    Side by side they walked across the gap between the two groups, mirrored by Amira dragging Snug¡¯s father across as well. They met in the middle.

    Mr. Farash awkwardly extended a hand to Snug¡¯s father, and after a moment of hesitation he sighed and took it.

    ¡°Farhhed Farash.¡±

    ¡°Sam Walterson.¡±

    Meanwhile Amira and Snug faced each other. Snug smiled and extended a closed fist. Amira looked at it in confusion until he opened it to reveal a small shriveled mango.

    ¡°Mango?¡± he questioned.

    Amira tackled him in a hug, laughing and crying in an equal measure.

    ¡°I love you, Snug!¡± she cried.

    ¡°As do I, Amira.¡± he replied.

    Around cheering slowly started in the two groups, spreading with every wild twirl.

    Soon it became a deafening roar, made all the louder when Snug and Amira¡¯s lips met in a passionate kiss.

    Behind them the sun set, and with it so did the last of the barriers between the Sarbs and the Eureks.

    Snug and Amira got married soon after, and lived out the rest of their lives in peace. They inherited the store and that is where I pressed their paths upon their deaths.

    Snug¡¯s story was not unique, and in this fact lay its power. Ten of thousands of people were finding their paths and imposing it on the world around them, a number far greater than anytime before it. The world had truly changed. No longer could all momentous events be tracked down to the imposition of a hegemon, but were instead composed of a glorious symphony of smaller paths, each struggling to leave its mark.

    Humanity had left behind their simplicity and embraced a broader world order.

    One where all men could choose.

    Where all could be divine.

 32 - A Dangerous Book

    Humanity had come far from their feuding city states and endless power struggle. They had embraced a new age of culture and advancement, woven from the paths of countless. Or so they said. The truth was that endless struggle had merely changed to a new arena. A struggle of minds rather than bodies. A never ending ladder of accomplishment, reaching for the sky. And in their squabbling on the ladder, they forgot where the ladder was even going. All that mattered was one''s place on the ladder. It is a pitiable truth, yet true all the same. I once found an interesting speech, written by the Sociologist Harvey Marks. He denounced it all as a joke, raged against it, and crumbled before it. They found his cold body the next day, a bullet hole in its head. But his words never left me. ¡°It¡¯s all a joke.¡± And it truly is. The ladder inevitably leads to stagnation. A luxury we can''t afford. That¡¯s why I need to create something new.

    Havey hated conventions. They were more dick-measuring contests than actual academic discourse. But occasionally a few gems could be found.

    Groaning, he hauled himself out of his old 2001 Togoda Silver, a car that had long served him well. If only it wasnt so damn low to the ground.

    He nervously scanned the crowd, dull blue eyes spinning, hoping to avoid anybody he knew. Honestly, with his aversion to people, he sometimes didn''t know why he had chosen to become a sociologist of all things.

    Actually, I could study that. Was it Mr. Burkins? I remember reading that paper about how big of an impact a good teacher can have. Well maybe¡­

    His thoughts alone accompanied him into the crowded convention doors.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Hours later, Harvey was feeling a little better about the whole convention thing. Obviously the dick-measuring was still in full force, but he had managed to map out the areas where the less stuffy people were.

    Still, he wondered what it would be like to be heard.

    For a time he was in heaven, lost in the gutted constructs of society, laid bare before him. He dived into the writings and presentations with unchecked eagerness, questions spewing from his lips.

    He wasn''t sure how long he was lost in the world of dismantled society when he came across a new table, bare except for a single book. For some reason it caught his attention, standing out from the more ostentatious displays.

    ¡°The Cycle of Ego and The End of Society.¡± a voice interrupted his musings.

    Harvey jumped, and strangling the urge to run, turned to face the newcomer. It was a tired looking old man, with messy gray hair and tired azure eyes.

    ¡°Who¡­¡±

    The man raised a hand,

    ¡°Not important. What do you think of the book?¡±

    Harvey replied uncertainty, taken aback by the mans rudeness,

    ¡°Umm¡­I haven''t read it?¡±

    The man raised a brow,

    ¡°Then why have you been staring at it for so long?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I have?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you have, for nearly 5 minutes.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± was the only response Harvey managed to muster.

    The man looked at him expectantly, only to sigh as Harvey said nothing.

    ¡°So? What attracted your attention?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ The display is very¡­ barebones.¡± Harvey articulated, slowly trying to regain his balance.

    Which was further disputed by the man''s abrupt response.

    ¡°Exactly!¡± he practically yelled, ¡°That''s the point. It''s plain. Not showy. Lacking ego.¡± He practically spat out the last word.

    Ludon always was erratic.

    ¡°Ego,¡± he continued, ¡°That will spell the doom of our society!¡±

    He looked at Harvey fervently, as if expecting him to burst into enthusiastic agreement.

    Harvey was too busy trying to center himself, trying and failing to execute the breathing exercises his therapist had given him.

    The man¡¯s passion turned into sullen anger,

    ¡°Bah!¡± he exclaimed, ¡°Nobody gets it. Too wrapped up in their own egos they can''t see the plain truth.¡±

    Harvey finally managed to gather himself enough to ask a question,

    ¡°What truth?¡±

    The old man considered him sullenly, the sighed,

    ¡°Ego is the single greatest threat to our society, and it will bring our end.¡±

    Harvey¡¯s instincts were screaming at him to keep the discussion going, hinting at the unique ideas that lay in the crazy old man¡¯s brain.

    Fighting though his discomfort he asked another question,

    ¡°How?¡±

    The old man countered with another question,

    ¡°Isn''t it obvious? We assume knowledge we don''t have simply to appear better in the eyes of society. We assume ability we do not rightfully possess to reach beyond ourselves. And when we do so, we deny ourselves the ability to learn the knowledge, to learn those skills. And so society rests on a pillar of lies, on the backs of those unfit to carry its weight.¡±

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    His eyes drifted to his book.

    ¡°It will doom us in the,¡± he continued, voice dropping to a reverent whisper, gaze on the book becoming more fervent, ¡°It will be our end.¡±

    Then, like nothing had happened he snapped back.

    ¡°So, Boy.¡± he demanded, ¡°That make sense?¡±

    Harvey managed to weather the man wild nature easier this time and quickly responded,

    ¡°It''s similar to some of the things I''ve been thinking about. Surprisingly so actually.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± the old man questioned.

    ¡°Yeah, in fact if I could get your number, perhaps we could me¡­¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± the man interrupted, ¡°I¡¯m not long for this world. But take the book. You''ll probably get as much use out of it as anyone.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not long for this word?¡± Harvey echoed with alarm, ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    The man¡¯s temperament once again rapidly shifted, this time to a bizarrely melancholic state,

    ¡°You know, we¡¯re born and raised into this cycle of ego. It¡¯s engraved into our minds from the first instance we see the light of the operating room. It¡¯s a part of us. And I''m tired of it. I¡¯ve fought for long enough. It''s time to rest.¡±

    He looked back at Harvey and picked up his book. Then, almost reverently he pushed the book into Harvey¡¯s arms. Meeting his eyes, Harvey saw something strange, a deep void lurking behind his wizened facade.

    ¡°There is only one way to escape.¡±

    Then he turned and left, leaving Harvey and the book.

    Under the title of bright red, a smaller black scrawl graced its cover.

    ¡°Ludon an Erduk¡± Harvey muttered.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    The next night found Harvey curled up in front of the fireplace, staring at the book. The rest of the convention had gone as expected, a blur of ideas, both new and old. But Harvey hadn¡¯t been able to focus, finding his mind drifting to the old man every chance it got. The old man and the book he now held in his hand.

    With a sigh, he opened it and began to read.

    As always, the book sucked him in, transporting him into a new reality. A blank canvas of possibility, waiting for the brush of the conception. As Harvey¡¯s eyes frantically consumed the words, colors appeared on the canvas. An endless stairway, leading to horizons unknown manifested first. Outside the invisible boundaries of the stairs, shifted a murky gray, sheltering the unwalked paths from prying eyes. On the stairs floated a strange construct. It took the form of a seemingly infinite city, contained within a finite space. A nightmare of shifting geometry and unsolved paradoxes. Any other would find themselves driven mad at the mere conception of such a construct. But to Harvey, it was familiar, a representation of society in his eyes. A representation of the subject he had dedicated his life to studying, and the construct he would never understand. The endless city was populated by little dots of color, flickers of people, ideas, and things, zooming around in accordance with the natural disorder of society. As Harvey read further, a new construct slowly appeared, formed from the collective will of the denizens of the city and the conceptions of the mighty.

    It took the form of a spinning ring, a black halo of sorts, lifting the city to the unseen end with unmatched zeal. The crowds cheered as the city began to move up the stairs faster, a marginal increase in the race to infinity. As their support for the ring ballooned, more threw themselves into it, becoming one with the cycle. Their colors bleed off into the surroundings as they assumed the black of the cycle.

    Within the ring, conceptions of power resided, ballooning themselves up with pride at their supposed accomplishments, fed by the cheering crowds below.

    The ring fed into itself, growing larger and faster as the illusion of growth consumed it.

    Yet even as its growth continued, subsuming more and more into it, it began to slow down, its newfound power loose and unfocused.

    Still, the people cheered and hurled themselves into it.

    Those within inflated themselves more and more, far beyond what could be sustained.

    Eventually, the city ground to a halt, no longer concerned with matters of ascension, but rather matters of size. Those in the ring relentlessly expanded themselves, seeking to become the biggest, and those on the ground eagerly dived into the cycle, seeking to become big themselves.

    Harvey watched in horror as the cycle consumed society, fashioning itself into the end goal of existence. Watched as the vibrant colors within bled away, consumed by the never ending black of the cycle. Watched as the very purpose of life itself was replaced by this plague.

    Harvey ascended into reality, opening his eyes to the sound of the book snapping shut in his hands.

    He shivered.

    ¡ª--------------------------

    For nearly an hour he didn''t move from his chair, shaken by what he had seen. When he finally got up, it was merely to pace around the room as his mind relentlessly analyzed what he had seen. It was fascinating, how the cycle inflated itself to such unsustainable proportions, the draw it possessed.

    In all honesty, society is a fragile construct. There are countless concepts capable of bringing about its ruin.

    I should know. I¡¯ve seen it happen. Over and over and over again.

    Still, Harvey found this doomsday scenario of all of them something special. Something personal. After all, it wasn''t just society caught in its chains.

    The others may bring about the destruction of society, but the cycle of ego brought a much more subtle death. Ever since Jazarin had walked the earth, society''s purpose had been progress. Striving for that unreachable sky, where all are equal and all are free. This was the slow creeping death of those ideals to inequality and chains of ego. A death so subtle it didn''t even provide the chance to reform society in something better, as often happened in the wake of tyrants. A stagnation of sorts. A subversion. A chaining.

    It went against everything Harvey stood for.

    He still remembered the insults and blows of his youth. Shredding his body and confidence both. Remembered being forced to serve time and time again. Remembered chasing the ripped shreds of his notes as they twirled in the wind. All because of his perceived lowness. All because he had the courage to admit what he didn¡¯t know.

    His childhood may have given him drive, but he would wish it upon nobody. He would recreate without such a hierarchy.

    He would break the cycle of ego, and end the practice of accomplishments for the sake of accomplishments.

    Yet as he looked back on his life, a question came to him.

    What had that drive been for? Was it simply a drive to avoid being perceived as lesser?

    He tried to remember what he originally studied sociology for. Not why he had begun to study it, but for what. To his horror, he couldn''t remember. He remembered his doctorate thesis, a paper on the wealth disparity between races but not why he had chosen that thesis. He couldn''t even remember why he had gotten a doctorate in the first place.

    Was it merely an attempt to defend himself from the viciousness of the cycle? To be high enough to avoid the insults? To have an armor of accomplishment to defend against the accomplishments of others?

    Harvey shivered once more.

    Had the course of his life been dictated by the cycle?

    He had thought himself separate from all the ego and posturing, but now he wasn''t so sure.

    Why had he gotten his doctorate?

    Harvey moved with newfound urgency, perhaps this wasn''t merely a mission to free society, but also himself.

    Alas, freedom is beyond the purview of mortals.

    Moving with the fervor of a man on a mission, Harvey popped open his laptop and searched for Ludon an Erduk. He needed help, clarity on what he faced.

    His plans crumbled on the first search result.

    ¡°Acclaimed sociologist Ludon an Erduk commits suicide at 87.¡±

    Harvey just stared at the title, remembering Ludon¡¯s last words to him.

    ¡°There is only one way to escape.¡±

    Harvey wondered if there was anything he could have done to save the man. To pull him from the cycle, shelter him from reality. But no. The man had known better than anybody the nature of the cycle. If even he couldn''t find a way out, then perhaps they were all doomed.

    Worrying consumed his pacing, giving it a panicked energy.

    ¡°No!¡± He said, ¡°There must be a way out. Yes, there is a way out. And I will find it.¡±

    Only he knew if he believed it.

 32.2 - A Deadly Game

    He spent the next few months in frantic research, dropping every project before in a desperate attempt to gather as much evidence of the cycle as he could. He was a sociologist and he knew the nature of social constructs such as the cycle. They were backed by the full force of society. To reject it was to face the full force of society''s disapproval, an act beyond the capacity of any man. Society defines man, and to face its disapproval is to be warped into something else.

    Therefore, Harvey thought, the way forward was to convince society of the threat and together change it. But in order to do that, he needed to be heard. So he gathered evidence, wrote papers, and read the book with a single goal in mind.

    The next convention.

    ¡ª------------------------

    This time, as Harvey walked through the door, he immediately turned to the center of the dick-measuring. It was regrettable but those people, who Harvey now recognized as the end goal of the cycle, were the ones that wielded power.

    Perceived power is power, and some people are very good at appearing powerful.

    When he finally found them, he hesitated at the doorway.

    The ballroom was filled with people in suits, having subdued conversations. Harvey immediately felt inadequate, even with the new suit he was wearing, but he soldiered on. This was a weapon of those at the peak, exclusion. His research had revealed that it was a mechanism of separation, something that made them appear select and high class. Everything here was a status play. It made Harvey sick to see. All of the people here stood at the top of their field, yet instead of working towards something meaningful, practically everything was done for the sake of the hierarchy. With every elevation, their peers would match them and the cycle would continue.

    A race to nowhere.

    It was almost funny, if it wasn''t so depressing.

    Harvey took a deep breath and plunged into the shark tank.

    Immediately, he felt curious eyes on him. It wasn''t often new people joined the group. And a few people drifted over to question him.

    Luckily for him, his work was expansive and notable enough to earn him a spot in this group. He just never had because of how they made him feel.

    Inadequate.

    Another tool of the cycle, punching down. A way of discouraging people from pursuing the peak and therefore becoming competition.

    This was a nightmare for him, a never ending barrage of networking and conversation. They all probed him, circling like hungry sharks.

    Yet as he remembered Ludon and the chains that bound him, he stood straighter. He had a purpose bigger than these pathetic power plays.

    This was a game, a play of sorts. And Harvey, despite his timid nature, had always been an excellent actor.

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    His demeanor shifted as he slipped into the role of a man who knew his worth, a man who belonged here. Inside he was sweating bullets, but outside he was every bit the charming scientist.

    While being tall certainly sucked at blending in, it was useful for standing out.

    The hours passed in a blur, faces merging into one faceless entity, a symbol of the system he sought to break. It was ironic, a bit like making a deal with the devil in order to kill the devil. Of course, in the stories, those plots typically ended badly.

    Harvey tried not to fixate on that.

    Finally, his shot came, an invitation to the balcony overlooking the ballroom. An invitation from the organizer of this convention, Hark Vlader, a renowned sociologist.

    Inside Harvy pictured himself as a man huffing and puffing, his mind on the verge of giving up. But this was his shot. He stood at the feet of the stairs leading to his dreams, and he hesitated. He looked behind him, at the talking people. A few looked back and gave him an acknowledging nod. It felt good. To be recognized by people of such stature, rather than looked down upon. He wondered why he had always avoided these events. With a warm glow in his stomach, he ascended the stairs. When he reached the doors to the balcony, they swung open automatically, revealing the opulence behind.

    Immediately, Harvey was reminded why he hated these people. Every single person was dressed in clothes that looked expensive enough to buy a car. Diamond glittered and shoes shone. Every single look he got upon entering was questioning and slightly condescending as if asking who let the mutt in.

    Still, he let the role he played shine forth in full brilliance. Brilliance, that here, was barely enough to upgrade him to a human. Internally he was screaming with effort, but externally he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect academic. Engaging people in deep discussions, plunging through the depths of his vocabulary to find the perfect words, he slowly navigated his way through the complex net of social interaction. It was actually fascinating how they organized himself, something he desperately wanted to step back and observe. But every disapproving look made him desperately want to throw himself back into discussion to prove himself. After all, what use was insight if you were the only one that knew it? He needed a voice, and if he let up for a moment the shifting tides of conversation would sweep him away.

    Finally, he managed to slip into a conversation with Hark Vlader,

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Dr. Vlader.¡± he said smoothly, extending a hand, ¡°I¡¯m Harvey Marks. PhD.¡±

    Dr. Vlader gave him a considering look before shaking his hand,

    ¡°Nice to meet you, Harvey.¡±

    Harvey noticed how he didn''t use his title.

    After a bit of small talk, Harvey got to the point.

    ¡°I¡¯ve recently stumbled upon a small subfield of conflict theory, involving the power dynamics of the elite. I believe it is a subject of great and time-critical importance. I would like to request a speaking slot at next month''s conference.¡±

    Dr. Vlader observed him silently second, condescending eyes boring into Harvey¡¯s being. A reminder that he was the one deciding, that he was the one in power.

    Finally, he agreed,

    ¡°Why not? We¡¯ll contact you later. Now if you excuse me I need to use the bathroom.¡±

    Harvey watched as he walked away, in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

    He supposed he had accomplished his mission, but he certainly didn¡¯t feel any better about it. It felt like Dr. Vlader had thrown him a bone rather than help him out.

    Regardless, having accomplished his goal he quickly fled the convention. Unable to take a single second more of acting. In his car, he had a small panic attack but afterward felt much better.

    It was strange. He had been ignored, recognized, looked down upon, supported, complemented, and even insulted.

    He shuddered.

    He had not anticipated the strength the cycle pull had reached. So far he had escaped the brunt of it by avoiding it. But now he needed to dive into it to break it.

    It was strange.

    His mind was filled with fantasies of both validation and destruction.

    Not even I knew what would win.

 32.3 - The Perfect Joke

    The day of the conference arrived far faster than Harvey had expected and he once more found himself standing in front of the hated convention center.

    Nervously adjusting his tie, he breathed in deep and slipped into his other persona.

    He couldn''t help but notice it was easier now.

    Crowds he had once needed to fight past subtly parted before him. He felt like Moses parting the red sea. A conductor of a divine message.

    Now all he needed was to deliver it.

    The auditorium was massive, easily enough to fit hundreds of people, and it was packed with people.

    Harvey swallowed nervously.

    Soon the presentations began, spoken on a myriad of subjects. Wealth inequalities, pay gaps, government bills, and other equally interesting topics flew past.

    Harvey had always liked these presentations. They were interesting and well done. But today it was all he could do to not burst into cold sweat. Waves of panic crashed into him, wearing down the foundation of his resolve

    Was he really doing this?

    He tried shifting into the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him, but as always they didn''t work. Desperate to center himself, he fled into a new fantasy.

    He saw the people below rise to give him a roaring ovation. He saw his ideas being discussed, his books being read. He saw the people cheer as he freed them from the cycle of ego.

    And he began to relax.

    When his time came to speak, he had two goals.

    Destroy the cycle of ego.

    And bask in the applause of his peers.

    Which one was more important is a mystery.

    He spoke with the fervor of a zealot, condensing the result of months of research into a single speech. He revealed the black halo and its frantic cycling. Talked of the still city, devoid of color.

    Finally, he reached the conclusion,

    ¡°The purpose of our society is to grow and nurture the constructs dear to us.¡± he said, ¡°To promote freedom, equality, choice, and all the other values we stand for. To let the cycle spin is to let it consume those colors, to strip us of those values. To let it spin is to let it become the goal itself rather than a means. I will not stand for such a transgression. Society was born out of man¡¯s desire for stability. We cannot stagnate until we have achieved that dream. Together, we can break the cycle. Thank you.¡±

    For a moment there was a heartstopping silence. Then he was met with applause. It wasn''t the fervent ovation of his imagination, but it was applause nonetheless.

    With a relieved smile, he bowed and left the stage.

    And was immediately set upon by a group of people asking questions,

    ¡°What are the consequences of stagnation?¡±

    ¡°Can you expand upon the still city?¡±

    ¡°What inspired this topic?¡±

    It was overwhelming being the center of attention, but affirming all the same. He was the one they wanted to talk to. He was important enough to talk to. Pride swelled within him.

    Finally, he was rescued by none other than Dr. Vlader.

    ¡°Excellent speech, Harvey.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Would you be interested in speaking again at the Sukirt conference next month? I have some connections and I''m sure I could get you a slot.¡±

    Harvey thought about the stress of the preparation and prepared to decline, but then a new image came to mind. Him standing in the center of eager people, asking questions and actually being interested in his work. It was an intoxicating feeling.

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    ¡°I would be honored,¡± he replied.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    The next few months were the best Harvey could remember. He flew all over the world, giving presentations to crowds of his peers. Engaging in intellectual discussion, and peer reviewing other works. He even appeared in the Humanities Weekly, a famous magazine.

    Over time the persona he had constructed felt less and less strange until he couldn''t even recognize himself anymore. He had gained muscle as a result of the exercise he had started. A fit physique made more people pay attention, after all.

    His theories grew more and more detailed, sharpened, and defined through the experiences he had accrued over the course of his travels.

    Soon, he told himself, soon it would be time to use his theories to break the cycle.

    But now, what harm was one more speech?

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    However, the dream couldn''t last. Harvey found himself slowly slipping out of the limelight as new theories emerged, some built off of his. He fought for it bitterly, not wanting to give up his newfound confidence and influence. He found himself even more anxious than before, desperately scheming ways to stay in control. But it was to no avail. The more he struggled the faster he slipped. He knew he needed to act fast, use the last remaining shreds of his influence to try and break the cycle. He needed to denounce the system and push for change. But he kept thinking back to the people he would disappoint and anger with such an action. It was ok to study it from a purely academic standpoint, even ok to say action must be taken. But to actually take action?

    Unforgivable.

    He would go from a position of influence to an outcast instantly.

    Was it even possible with his faded influence? Maybe he should just leave it and find a new thing to study. Something new that would get him back into the limelight. Maybe if he stayed there long enough he would have the requisite influence.

    The thought of his fading was depressing, and he decided to try and cheer himself up. He drove to downtown Baltic, the city he lived in. Among the brilliant light and laughing couples, he walked alone. He was out of his element, away from the people that recognized his worth.

    He hesitated outside of a bar advertising a comedian.

    Perhaps he just needed something to cheer him up. He had always loved comedy.

    Sighing he pushed open the doors and entered the building.

    Immediately he was greeted with the heartening roar of laughter. On the stage a short man seemed to dance around the wide stage, words pouring out of his mouth in an enthusiastic punchline.

    ¡°...and the man said, What horse?¡±

    ¡­I¡¯ve always found comedy strange.

    And still, the laughter of the audience skyrocketed to new heights, and despite himself Harvey found the good cheer provoking a laugh from his as well.

    He quickly found himself a seat and sat back to enjoy the routine. After a few more jokes the comedian called for a helper.

    Harvey raised his hand without thinking.

    ¡°You there.¡± the comedian said, indicating Harvey, ¡°What''s your name?¡±

    ¡°Harvey Marks¡±

    ¡°What do you do for a living?¡±

    ¡°I have a Ph.D. in sociology and have gained some renown in the field. I mostly do research and conferences.¡±

    ¡°Oooh, we got a hotshot, huh,¡± the comedian laughed, ¡°How many conferences have you been to?¡±

    ¡°Dozens¡±

    ¡°What do you do with your research? Is there like some sort of government office for good ideas? Nah,¡± he laughed, ¡°Our economy would be such shit if they did.¡±

    He got a few laughs for that.

    Harvey, meanwhile, was about to respond before really thinking about the question, before frowning.

    ¡°Nothing¡± he whispered.

    ¡°What was that?¡± the comedian yelled.

    ¡°Umm¡­ Nothing.¡± Harvey replied louder.

    ¡°Nothing? Come on man. What the point then?¡±

    The question hit Harvey even harder,

    ¡°I¡­I¡­I¡±

    ¡°We don''t have all night!¡± the comedian yelled.

    Harvey was at a loss. He had started with a purpose in mind, but now he didn''t know what to do. Duty fought ego and pride fought knowledge.

    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Harvey finally replied.

    ¡°Really, man? A sociologist that doesn''t know what the point of his work is? Well folks I don''t even need to make a joke here, It''s already in perfect shape.¡±

    Laughter spread throughout the venue.

    ¡°Unlike our economy.¡±

    The laughter soared even louder.

    Harvey found himself numb, shaken to his core by horrible revelation. He had entered the cycle to break it, and it had subverted him instead. Now, he was held hostage in its soft rebukes and expensive clothes. Entrapped by the glittering people and bold ideas. His mind was clear for the first time in months. He was a joke. They all were. He knew that now. But he also knew that insight wouldn''t last. In the face of the relentless spinning of the cycle, it would eventually be subsumed. Ground to dust.

    The cycle would capture him again. It held them all. Now that he knew what awaited him at the peak, there was no living at the foot.

    He didn''t want to live a life of endless striving for the pointless peak, the apex of ignorance.

    No, he refused.

    The last words of Ludon an Erduk came to him,

    ¡°There is only one way to escape.¡±

    He knew what he must do.

 32.4 - The Leap

    The next day found him in yet another conference center, waiting to present. But this time it would be different. There would be no lies, no thinly veiled disapproval. No delicate balance.

    No, truth would rule here.

    As Harvey walked across the stage, the sound of his footsteps echoed in his ears, playing a steady backdrop to his pounding heart. He looked over the crowds of people gathered to listen to him, feeling uncertain. What he would do today was a condemnation of them. It was treachery. He had been inaugurated into their hierarchy and he reaped the benefits of it. To turn his back on them now was unforgivable. But it was only another trap. Another mechanism of control. A part of him cried to stop this madness and quietly return to the fold, jockeying for position once more.

    But his will still held strong.

    It would need to be enough.

    Taking one last gaze over the audience of his once-peers, meeting Dr. Vlader¡¯s eyes. He had been there for the first conference. He would witness the last.

    Harvey took a deep breath.

    ¡°What is the purpose of sociology?¡± He questioned.

    After a second of silence, somebody in the audience yelled back,

    ¡°To understand the construct we call society!¡±

    A wave of approving murmurs swept around and the man who had yelled it smiled proudly. Harvey knew that feeling.

    ¡°Wrong.¡± he said.

    The audience looked at him confusedly, wondering at his angle,

    ¡°The purpose of sociology, ¡° Harvey continued, ¡°is to better society, not understand it.¡±

    The disapproving murmurs only reinforced his resolve. He finally understood why they had laughed at him in the comedy club.

    ¡°This,¡± he said waving his arms in their general direction, ¡°is a joke. All of it. The supposed ¡®intellectual discussion¡¯, the backroom deals, the endless struggle for hierarchical positions. It''s all a joke.¡±

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    He let a moment of silence hang between them, observing their faces contort in confusion and hurt and anger. It wasn''t enough.

    ¡°I frequently speak of the cycle of ego, and its danger to society. Well, we are trapped in such a cycle. And you all are content to run around it like a hamster in its wheel.¡±

    Anger was growing in the audience,

    ¡°You know what I think?¡± Harvey projected, voice growing, ¡°I think Intellectual discussion for the sake of intellectual discussion is useless! I think it''s pathetic that not one of you can even name the purpose of your life''s dedication! I think it''s pitiful that the world is falling apart and all we do is engage in dick-measuring contests! I! Am! Done!¡±

    The audience stared at him in shock, unable to connect his screaming rage with the ambitious social climber.

    ¡°The cycle remains unbroken,¡± Harvey continued, voice becoming melancholic, ¡°and we do nothing to say otherwise. We stagnate on the altar of progress, our purpose purged in the flames of ego. We embrace the chains that bind us, ignoring the possibilities around us in favor of their cold comfort.¡±

    Harvey took a deep breath.

    ¡°You condescend one and they condescend another and the cycle continues. Everybody ends up hurt. Everybody ends up angry. Everybody hides that anger, passing it on to the one below. This is the nature of the cycle we are trapped in. These are the chains that bind us, one of hate and anger and prejudice.¡±

    As he observed them, their audacity to feel anger in response to truth, their inability to admit their wrong doings, a laugh came to his lips.

    He couldn''t help it. He let it loose. He laughed long and hard.

    It was freeing in a way he couldn''t explain, like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Chains broke in the face of his impending deliverance.

    ¡°It¡¯s all a joke.¡± he finally managed to say, shaking his head ruefully ¡°Equality. Freedom. Choice. So long as this cycle binds our purpose, we will never be free. We will never be equal. And we can never choose. It''s all a joke.¡±

    And with those parting words, he walked off the stage.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    Harvey stood on top of a skyscraper, looking out at the city beneath him. A place of vibrant lights and unimaginable complexity. Harvey smiled and turned his head up to face the evening breeze. He wondered if this was how Ludon had felt in his final moments.

    As opposed to popular view, suicide is in fact not an act of cowardice but rather an act of courage. To look nothingness in the eyes and walk into its quiet arms is brave. Plain and simple. It takes someone special to walk away from the trappings of mortality. After all, divinity is merely one path to eternity.

    With a sigh like a winter breeze, Harvey stepped off the tower.

    In the instant, before he struck the ground, the confusion that had plagued Harvey for his entire mortal life melted away, and he knew one thing with almost painful certainty.

    He was finally free.

    Ground met man and Harvey Marks was no more.

    Sometimes, when the ladder is clogged with people, there is only one way to move.

    Jump.

 33- Loneliness

    For the vast majority of history, humanity has labored under the chains of impossibility. Some things are simply not possible with mere human flesh. Or they should be. Some people are limitless, unchained. I am proud to count myself among them. For us reality, the set of rules and patterns that define possibility, are mere suggestions. It¡¯s a fragile thing, prone to changing under the force of our wills. Jausn an Erduk was the first of us, and it was his presence that opened the doors to the deep void. Space became yet another place for us to expand into. Yet for all our power, all our perfection, we are denied by one flaw. The peak suffers no competition. We are alone in our brilliance. Utterly alone.

    Jausn was seven when he broke his first world record.

    He was playing the drums in his 2nd-grade music class, nodding his head to the music when an idea occurred to him.

    What if he drummed faster?

    So he drummed faster.

    What if he went even faster?

    So he went faster.

    Even faster?

    The entire class was watching in shocked silence as a 7-year-old broke the world record for the fastest drummer.

    It was not a remarkable experience for Jausn, merely one of many. As casual as taking a step is to a normal person.

    As casual as creation is to a god.

    Meaningless.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    Of course that was only the beginning. Brilliance like his could not be concealed. No matter where he was, he shone like a naked star.

    A cold night found Jausn studying. Pages turned at near-inhuman speed as Jausn memorized their contents with a glance. It continued for hours, the massive stack of books in front of him shrinking as the one behind him grew.

    Eventually, he looked up and only two emotions could be seen in his azure eyes.

    Boredom and loneliness.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    ¡°Why am I different?¡± 9-year-old Jausn asked his parents at the dinner table.

    ¡°Different? What do you mean?¡± questioned his father John an Erduk.

    John was a noble man, an Erduk through and through.

    But he was not equipped to raise one of the Limitless.

    It didn¡¯t stop him from trying.

    ¡°You¡¯re special, son. As for why? I don¡¯t know. But does it really matter? You are my son.¡±

    Jausn paused for a second,

    ¡°How do I stop being special?¡±

    John tilted his head,

    ¡°Why would you want to stop being special?¡±

    Jausn shrugged,

    ¡°Being special is boring. I¡¯m all alone. I don''t want to be alone.¡±

    Jausn¡¯s mom, Erika, gave John a look,

    ¡°Honey, It¡¯s time.¡±

    John sighed,

    ¡°I suppose it is.¡±

    Then turning to Jausn he continued,

    ¡°We¡¯re going to send you away. To a place with more special people. A place where you can hopefully find peers.¡±

    They had not yet realized he had no peers.

    Jausn gave his father a confused look,

    ¡°How will we afford it?¡± he questioned, sweeping gaze around their small cozy house.

    John laughed,

    ¡°Our family is ancient. We live here because we wanted to raise you humbly. How do you think we afforded all your books?¡±

    ¡°Is that how you keep avoiding taxes?¡±

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    John froze, a guilty look creeping across his face,

    ¡°You read the tax reports?¡±

    Jausn nodded.

    John coughed.

    ¡°A toast!¡± he deflected, ¡°To Jausn¡¯s glorious future!¡±

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    For two glorious years, Jausn was content. His parents had managed to enroll him in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, Jazarin University.

    How it had heartened me to see his legacy preserved even then.

    There, surrounded by the greatest minds and bodies of humanity, Jausn had fun for the first time in his short life. The work was still easy but it was no longer boring.

    For two glorious years, he learned everything he possibly could, attended every lecture he possibly could, and took every test he could get his hands on.

    But soon, it became apparent that even there he was alone.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------

    The headmaster of Staren University, massaged his temples and muttered under his breath,

    ¡°What are we going to do with you?¡±

    He opened his eyes and glared at Jausn,

    ¡°How many times do we need to tell you not to hack our system?! We have told you a thousand times, there is not a secret society of geniuses hiding somewhere over the campus.¡±

    11-year-old Jausn glared back,

    ¡°Then where are they? And what is the cavern I discovered under the University?¡±

    The headmaster sighed,

    ¡°They don''t exist, boy. They don¡¯t exist. You are, quite frankly, a monster. The papers you write are literally extending beyond human comprehension.¡±

    ¡°Not to the other geniuses!¡± Jausn snapped back.

    ¡°No. Even to the geniuses.¡±

    ¡°Aha! So you admit they exist!¡±

    ¡°No, boy. Listen. You¡¯re not a genius. Everybody else on this campus is a genius. I don¡¯t know what you are. But I do know one thing. There are no others¡± he air quoted, ¡°You are alone.¡±

    ¡°Then what''s that cavern?¡± Jausn replied angrily.

    ¡°Oh, Jazarin help me¡± the headmaster mumbled, ¡°how can one person be so stupid and so brilliant at the same time.¡±

    Turning to address Jausn, he continued,

    ¡°It''s a storage area. You¡¯re welcome to take a look. Maybe you¡¯ll find something interesting.¡±

    Jausn glared at him.

    ¡°What do you want, boy!¡± the headmaster exclaimed, ¡°Hasn''t your hacking revealed this place''s every secret?¡±

    ¡°Not where the ge¡­¡±

    ¡°Stop right there,¡± the headmaster commanded, holding out a hand, ¡°There is nobody like you. I cannot stress that enough. Now, Jared will guide you to the storage to see if you can find anything interesting.

    Jausn opened his mouth only to be interrupted once more.

    ¡°Say one more thing and I call your parents.¡±

    Jausn left the room fuming.

    He didn''t find anything interesting in the storage bay.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    Slowly but surely life in the university was slipping back into the boring, lonely stretch of hell life had used to be. Fewer and Fewer people were able to keep up with Jausn even as he made sure to split his focus between dozens of subjects.

    One day, a knock on his door snapped him out of the project he was working on. He opened the door to find his parents.

    ¡°Hi, Mom. Dad. What a¡­¡±

    ¡°Happy twelfth birthday!¡± they chorused, wrapping him in a tight hug.

    Jausn was confused for a second before remembering the date. It was his birthday.

    ¡°You forgot again, didn¡¯t you?¡± Erika teased.

    Jausn¡¯s frantic denials had no effect.

    ¡°So,¡± John interjected, ¡°how are you, son?¡±

    Jausn thought back to the headmaster''s words a few months ago.

    ¡°There is nobody like you.¡±

    It was too much.

    I¡¯ve always found children''s fixation on intelligence fascinating. They seem unaware that it is in fact a double-edged sword. When you¡¯re smart, people tend to forget you¡¯re a kid. It¡¯s a pity to lose one''s childhood so early. Sometimes kids just need to be kids.

    To Jausn¡¯s horror, he found himself sobbing.

    His parents, understandably horrified, quickly set to reassuring him.

    Jausn found himself wrapped in a cocoon of warm hugs and quiet nonsense.

    Finally, seeing he had calmed down enough, John asked,

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong son? Is it too much?¡±

    Jausn shook his head.

    ¡°Then what''s wrong?¡±

    Jausn hiccupped,

    ¡°It''s happening again¡± he muttered.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Erika interjected.

    ¡°They can¡¯t keep up. They just can¡¯t. I try to drag them behind me, but they just don¡¯t understand.¡±

    He hiccupped again.

    Erika and John shared a look.

    ¡°Why don''t you tell us about it, son¡± John said.

    So, Jausn did. It poured out of him like water out of an overflowing pitcher. An overwhelming flood of emotion and frustration. He told them about the exaltation of the first two years, the joy of knowing people here knew things he didn''t. The joy of learning those things. The joy of matching wits with peers. Then the slow horror of running out of things to study. The gradual loss of all his peers as he pulled further and further ahead. The dawning realization that he was alone once more.

    By the end, he was sobbing once more, and once more his parents calmed him down.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, son. It¡¯s ok¡± John said.

    ¡°It will be alright,¡± Erika added.

    ¡°What¡­What if I''m always alone?¡± Jausn whispered, ¡°What if I never find peers? What if I live my life alone? I don''t want to be alone.¡±

    ¡°You won''t be,¡± Erika reassured him, ¡°You will find your people eventually, and even if you don''t, we will always be here.¡±

    Jausn nodded uncertainty.

    ¡°Why don''t we take a break?¡±John suggested, ¡°From academics I mean. Give everybody here a few years to process everything you¡¯ve written. Try something else.¡±

    Jausn nodded, then asked,

    ¡°Try what?¡±

    ¡°How about sports?¡± Erika interjected.

    ¡°Hmm. ok.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be alright, Jausn.¡±

    Jausn looked up at his parents,

    ¡°I love you, guys¡±

    ¡°Love you too, son¡±

    ¡°As do I.¡±

    They left the university the next morning.

 33.2 - The Peak

    The crowd roared as Jausn twirled between the opposing team¡¯s outstretched hands, effortlessly slipping across the line.

    He was untouchable.

    And just like that, Jausn an Erduk led his team to their world championship.

    He was 14.

    His teammates swarmed the field, each a grown man operating at the peak of physical possibility. They lifted him up, surfing him on firm hands, parading him in front of the millions of watching eyes.

    Yet in the face of it all, only one thing could be seen on Jausn¡¯s handsome visage.

    Disappointment.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    A rain of blows rained down on Jausn, a rain of blow effortlessly deflected and slipped.

    Marcus Arelius, Gregor Bringham, and Master Zen circled him slowly, searching for any weakness in his form. Each was a master of the art of war, the champions of dozens of different martial disciplines. They brought to bear the weight of history itself as they lashed out with blows that had once slain kings and warriors alike, and deflected fists with enough power to bend iron.

    And they were losing.

    Jausn an Erduk seemed to dance in the shadows of his ancestors as he fought the greatest champions of an age.

    Two hands against six.

    His lean muscular body, merely 15 years old, flexed and extended as the rhythm of the battle consumed him.

    He met force with force, speed with speed, and technique with technique. He met the champions of an age in their specialties and he crushed them.

    At last, he stood alone among the bodies, not even breathing hard.

    The crowd roared around him, the announcer shouting at the top of his lungs.

    Jausn didn''t care.

    He just looked at the three groaning masters, sprawled across the ground.

    ¡°Pathetic.¡± he spat.

    Their only answer was more groans.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    The Olympics came and went, a chain of further disappointments.

    At the end of it, 16-year-old Jausn stood in front of a literal pile of gold medals.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Ladies and gentleman, you are witnessing history! This is the first time a single man, no boy, has claimed every single gold medal in the olympics!¡± his voice cracked, ¡°A feat never before done, and a feat that will likely never be replicated!¡±

    There was no applause this time, no roar of the crowd. Only a confused silence, one perpetuated by a hint of growing horror.

    I remember those days, when they stopped seeing him as human, and started seeing him as something more. The growing realization that they were all lesser to him.

    They didn¡¯t know how to react.

    Jausn just walked away, leaving behind the pile of gold.

    Victory tasted like ash.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    ¡°What now?¡± Jausn sobbed, ¡°none of them could keep up either!¡±

    Jausn sobbed even harder, tears pouring out from him in a never-ending waterfall as his parents tried to comfort him.

    They exchange concerned looks,

    ¡°Son¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®Son¡¯, me! I don''t need sympathy! I need peers!¡±

    ¡°We,¡± Erika started hesitantly, ¡°could try¡­ business?¡±

    Jausn looked up, his face a red mess,

    ¡°Yeah, business. It''s a field that skill can¡¯t completely encompass. It takes a lot of luck. Maybe you¡¯ll have better luck there?¡±

    Erduk Industries was founded the next day.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------------------

    Within a year, it was one of the richest companies in the world, famous for its high tech but affordable innovations.

    Jausn an Erduk became the richest person in the world, and was named one of the most influential people on earth.

    He was 17.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Maybe we could try art?¡± Erika suggested.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------------

    It''s ironic in a way. The power of Jausn¡¯s ethos had grown to such an extent that it was nearly impossible to fail. Any art made by him would be incredibly successful and valuable simply because it was made by him.

    It didn''t help that the arts came to him as easily as everything else.

    A painting he created had to be locked behind closed doors because the paradoxical geometry it contained nearly drove art critics insane.

    A violin solo he performed knocked out half the audience as they struggled to process the perfect blending of sublime harmony and sharp dissonance.

    A book he wrote inspired half of the world governments to change their policy.

    Art was more interesting than most, because of the sheer possibility it held. It was not as constrained as most fields. Still, by the time he was 20, he reached the point where his art no longer injured viewers, simply because it was beyond them to even catch the narrowest glimpse of its true meaning.

    Art is meant to be viewed.

    If there is no one capable of viewing it, is it even art?

    I sympathized with him. I created life itself for this very purpose. To raise one capable of gazing upon my creation.

    How I wished I could go to him and tell him how proud I was.

    Alas, each to their own.

    His path was his alone to walk.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------------------

    Finally, desperate to lose in something, Jausn sent out a challenge to the world.

    If anybody could beat him in anything he would grant them his full fortune.

    He was flooded with millions of applicants and upon filtering out the less skilled, he met the most skilled people in the world in their own fields.

    And he won.

    Over and over and over again.

    Cooking, arm wrestling, juggling, shooting, and a thousand other things.

    He truly was above them all.

    Limitless.

 33.3 - Limitless

    The click of forks on plates resounded through the room as the Erduks ate dinner.

    ¡°Pass the salt, please.¡± John asked.

    Jausn tossed it to him.

    The click of forks on plates resumed.

    Finally, Jausn pushed away his plate and turned to his parents.

    ¡°Mom, Dad, I¡­ I dont think there is anybody.¡± he said in a small voice.

    This time his parents didn¡¯t contradict him.

    John sighed,

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re old enough now. No, there is not. There has never been somebody like you, and there likely never will be. Hell, they can''t even figure out why you¡¯re like this. Your DNA is fairly normal.¡±

    Of course it was. His power came from his soul, not his flesh.

    ¡°So what do I do?¡± Jausn questioned in that same defeated voice, ¡°Live alone? Unmatched?¡±

    ¡°We don''t know, son. This is your path. All we can do is promise to support you in whatever you decide to do.¡±

    Jausn nodded dejectedly,

    ¡°I¡­ I need to take a walk.¡± he said, getting out of his seat.

    John watched him go sadly,

    ¡°What are we going to do with you?¡± he whispered.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------

    The stars were out in full force as Jausn walked to the meadow he had often played in as a kid. He lay down in the lush grass and stared into nothing.

    He stated there for hours, letting night slip away,

    Finally, he spoke,

    ¡°I can sense you. Why do you make me suffer?¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond. I hadn''t talked to a mortal directly, especially an Erduk, since Angelica.

    Still Jausn continued,

    ¡°I have always sensed you. Hoped you would come down. Tell me I''m not alone.¡±

    He laughed bitterly.

    ¡°Now, it seems you are content to leave me to my lonesomeness.¡±

    More hours slipped away before he spoke once more,

    ¡°Why am I like this? So bright? So brilliant?¡±

    It was because of his soul. It shone brighter than any since Angelica herself. I didn¡¯t know at the time, but it was only the beginning of a trend. The power of the Erduks was being brought to bear once more.

    Of course, I didn¡¯t tell him any of that.

    He closed his eyes and sighed,

    ¡°I wonder, are we the only ones you created? Are there others out there? As lost among the cosmos as we are?¡±

    He opened his eyes, and for the first time he seemed to see the stars above him.

    ¡°Maybe there are,¡± he whispered, ¡°maybe there is another like me out there. Alone.¡±

    He seemed to come to decision at that moment,

    ¡°Very well. If I can''t find my peers on earth, I¡¯ll find them in the stars.¡±

    We watched the stars together for the rest of the night.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    The next day, he returned to the university. But no longer did he seek peers among the students there. He had accepted there were none. Instead he simply borrowed the vast resources and tools they had at their disposal to begin his research.

    He had one goal.

    Create a spaceship capable of faster-than-light travel.

    He was 21, finally a legal adult in the eyes of society.

    And he had found his path.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    The years came and went, the turning of the season bringing sorrow and joy both, woven into the intricate cloth of life.

    The door to Jausn¡¯s workshop in the University burst open, revealing his parents.

    ¡°Jausn! Where are you?¡± Erika called.

    She was greeted with silence.

    They had spent an hour searching for him, only for every sign pointing to him never leaving the house.

    After a brief search they found him muttering to himself in the kitchen as he glared into a cereal bowl.

    He was unkempt and messy, with wrinkled stained clothes, and messy hair.

    ¡°Jausn!¡± Erika scolded, ¡°You¡¯re a mess! What happened?¡±

    He finally looked up from his staring contest with the cereal,

    ¡°Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?¡±

    They pulled up chairs and sat with him.

    ¡°Because we¡¯re worried about you,¡± John said, taking Erika¡¯s hand. ¡°You hardly ever leave the house.¡±

    ¡°Because i''m not finished yet¡± Jausn replied, ¡°I¡¯m so close, guys. I¡¯m so close.¡±

    ¡°To what? This light speed engine of yours?¡±

    ¡°Faster-than-light,¡± Jausn corrected, ¡°And yes. I¡¯m so close.¡±

    ¡°Son, is it really worth it? You¡¯ve given up nearly 5 years on this insane plan.¡±

    Jausn¡¯s head swiveled to John,

    ¡°It is everything¡± he snapped, ¡°Everything.¡±

    They stared at him with mild reproach, before he finally sighed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, guys. I¡¯m just so close.¡±

    Erika sighed,

    ¡°Why are you doing this, Jausn? There must be a better way.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    Jausn just looked into space.

    ¡°You know,¡± he whispered, ¡°in the beginning I still held some measure of hope. I had to invent entirely new branches of science and math. And I shared the full documentation on every single one of them, hoping somebody, anybody, could understand even the smallest fraction of them.¡±

    He sighed,

    ¡°Nobody did.¡±

    For a moment there was silence in the room.

    ¡°Son,¡± John finally said, ¡°maybe it''s time to give up on the search for peers. Accept that you are unique. Learn to live with it.¡±

    Jausn just shook his head.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Son, if you wou¡­¡±

    ¡°I said, NO¡± the last word hung between them, a fatal divide.

    ¡°Why? Why is this so important? Help us understand.¡± Erika interjected.

    Jausn¡¯s response was instant,

    ¡°Would you like to live in a society of insects?¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°A society of insects. One that can''t understand a single thing you say. Would you like to be the only man on earth? Just alone with your thoughts. Forever. Would you like to be chained to that society, forever forced to restrain yourself to avoid stepping on them?¡±

    He was met with silence.

    ¡°Because that is what life is like for me. Everything is so fragile.¡±

    ¡°Fragile?¡±

    ¡°Yes, fragile. Punch a man and he dies. Best a man and his ego is broken. Speak the truth and society crumbles. Break all records. Shatter all limits. Rupture all boundaries. That is who I am. Yet here, I cannot wield that essence, for it would break all around me like a supersonic plane soaring through a glass-forged city. I am a man chained to his bed because every step would crush insects. And I can no longer restrain myself. That''s why I must go.¡±

    John and Erika stared at him in horror.

    ¡°Is that truly what you think of humanity? A bunch of insects?¡±

    Jausn nodded,

    ¡°I can no longer pretend otherwise. My peers are not here. So I must search elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°What¡­What about us? Are we insects too?¡±

    Jausn¡¯s silence was confirmation enough.

    ¡°Ok.¡± John said, ¡°I don¡¯t understand. But you obviously do, son. Just know, insect or not, we will always love you.¡±

    Tears were silently streaming down everybody''s faces,

    ¡°And I love you guys¡± Jausn whispered, ¡°I¡¯m just so tired of being alone.¡±

    Erika started softly sobbing.

    She was still sobbing when they left.

    Jausn went back to glaring at his cereal, the void within bigger than ever.

    It hurt to watch. But I understood, perhaps better than anybody.

    Limitlessness is a curse.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    Later that year, Jausn called an academic conference. It was attended by the greatest of humanity from world-leaders to world-class scientists to the elite of society. All came to the call of one man.

    Jausn himself stood on the high podium, overlooking the thousand of gathered people.

    ¡°Attention!¡± he called.

    Instantly silence befell the hall.

    ¡°I¡¯ve called you all here for two reasons. A goodbye and a gift.¡±

    Confused murmuring spread throughout the hall, only to be stopped by a single hand.

    ¡°I¡¯m sick and tired of long, pointless, speeches and none of you would understand what I really want to say, so I''ll just get into it. I will be leaving earth, and I don''t expect to return.¡±

    His hand rose once more to silence the outbursts.

    ¡°I would like to thank all of you, all of humanity. You never did live up to my expectations, but you tried, and I appreciate that effort. Sometimes all that can be done is to try.¡±

    He sighed,

    ¡°Anyways, that''s the goodbye, so here''s the gift.¡±

    He waved a hand and the hall was filled with intricate hologram diagrams and blueprints.

    ¡°I have created a spaceship, equipped with such things like matter replicators, food fabricators, short-range teleports, stasis pods, and a faster-than-light engine.¡±

    The crowd erupted with shouting.

    ¡°For my gift¡± Jausn shouted over them, ¡°I give to you the full blueprint and documentation for its creation along with the blueprints for all its components and the sciences used to design them.¡±

    Dead silence greeted his announcement.

    ¡°I will be honest, I am not sure it is even within human capability to create such a thing, but with the complete designs maybe you¡¯ll find a way. Anyways, they¡¯re public domain, and also protected. Anybody that tries something stupid will find some very nasty viruses invading their computers. I don''t have much more to say, goodbye and good luck.¡±

    He vanished in a flash of light.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    Jausn sighed as the spaceship accelerated seamlessly. In an instant he hovered over earth, looking down on the planet he had spent his whole life on.

    It looked so small.

    He wondered if they would ever ascend to the star, as he just had.

    Still, they were them, and Jausn was Jausn.

    He turned his gaze to the distant star with a hunger.

    It was time to begin the search in earnest.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    As the years passed, Jausn combed the stars, looking for the one thing that could make him whole. He frequently addressed me, but I never responded. He passed black holes and radiant supernovae, discovered the corpses of my first creations and treasures born of law and chance.

    But throughout it all, he never found the one thing he desired so dearly.

    He was still alone.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------

    ¡°Why do you refuse to address me?¡± Jausn questioned as he fiddled with another long-range pulse scanner. ¡°Am I not worthy? Or are you unable? Or don¡¯t want to? Why?¡±

    As usual I gave no response.

    He sighed,

    ¡°You know, I feel the barrier. The one between mortality and divinity.¡±

    That got my attention.

    ¡°It''s fragile. As fragile as everything else in this cursed existence. A single push and I would ascend to divinity.¡±

    I was jubilant. This was the end, I had a peer! He would ascend and finally he would be capable of perceiving the vastness of creation in full.

    ¡°I won''t do it.¡±

    My thoughts ground to a halt. He didn''t want to ascend?

    ¡°You know,¡± he continued, ¡°Once I would have been thrilled at the chance to ascend and meet you. Now?¡± He sneered, ¡°You¡¯re just as broken as the rest, cowering above us all. You never did recover from the blow she struck, did you?¡±

    I gave no response.

    He threw down the pulse scanner, ignoring the small explosion of sparks it produced.

    ¡°At least I tried!¡± he yelled, ¡°I tried everything! You just cowered!¡±

    He took a deep breath,

    ¡°You are UNWORTHY¡± he proclaimed, his last word echoing with divinity before he subdued it.

    I was shaken, questioning my path for the first time in eons.

    Did I truly need to give humanity the space to forge their own paths? Or was that just an excuse to avoid interacting with them? An excuse to avoid trying?

    The doubts fed the void in my soul.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------------

    Jausn never spoke to me again, focusing fully on his search. I wondered if I should intervene, tell him he truly was unique. But I never worked up the courage to approach. He let time take its toll, making no effort to slow his natural aging. I watched as his black hair turned white, and his body deteriorated, even as his azure eyes blazed with light greater than ever before. He saw death coming and he welcomed it.

    One day, after another futile day of searching, he gave up. I felt it like a slap in the face. The will of a near-divine being giving way with a mighty crack. He lacked nothing in the pursuit of divinity, merely the desire of divinity itself.

    I watched as he slowly got up and walked to the airlock.

    I watched as he ejected himself for his ship, his long white hair flowing behind him as he drifted in space.

    I watched as he simply closed his eyes and basked in the cold void, patiently awaiting death.

    Finally, I could watch no more.

    For the first time since Angelica¡¯s betrayal, I addressed a mortal.

    ¡°JAUSN¡± my voice boomed, ¡°THIS IS FOOLISHNESS. ASCEND.¡±

    When he gave no response, I tried again.

    ¡°JAUSN, STOP THIS MAD¡­¡±

    Jausn¡¯s eyes flashed open burning with fury only a god should posses

    ¡°NO¡±

    The word came into existence like light at the beginning of time, touching everything, forcing reality to accept its existence. Forcing me to acknowledge its essence.

    I left Jausn with the final echoes of his last word still hanging in the void.

    He closed his eyes for the last time.

    I sighed, alone once more.

    Within the void grew.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    The final demise of Jasun an Erduk took years. He floated in the void, basking in its nothingness, seeming to slowly merge with the universe as a whole. Perhaps I had been granted my wish after all. He was certainly capable of gazing upon my creation in that state.

    The end came in a monstrous ripple, as a divine soul pierced the veil of existence to go to wherever souls went. There was nothing left of his path to use as its lonely essence rushed to the far corners of the universe.

    The ripple was felt even on Earth as people all around the planet fell to their knees, unable to comprend what they were feeling. Except for one.

    Freld an Erduk, the second son of John an Erduk, shed a tear for the brother he had never met.

    And once more, I was still alone.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------

 34 - Anarchy

    Humanity is naturally individualistic, creating in the image of the divine as we are. That individualism is our strength, the quality that makes us unique among all creation. And it is a curse, the trait that stops us from leveraging the might of our collective potential. Yet we still formed kingdoms, still accomplished miracles. Still ascended to the stars. All because of Law. Law acts as the chains that bind the actions of individuals to a greater whole. It establishes order in the endless chaos of life, allowing people to unite around common rules. Law is the glue that holds a people together, and like glue, sometimes it must be reapplied. The ascension of humanity to the star was one of these times. An event of such magnitude it required an entirely new code of law, one adapted to the new reality humanity found itself in. Individualism will be the trait that will one day allow man to ascend to divinity, yes. But it will be upon the shoulders of those that came before, a cumulation of all of humanity, enabled by the stabilizing power of Law. Law is the glue that holds the stage together. And all stages need a star.

    ¡°Your proposal is denied, Fredrich Smith, Third Admiral of the Forerunners.¡±

    Shock bloomed in Fredrich¡¯s chest, spreading throughout his body on seas of adrenaline.

    ¡°The law is as it should be. What right do we have to project binding law beyond the boundaries of our planet? What right does the minority have to speak for the majority?¡±

    ¡°But, madam secretary! This, more than ever, is a time for unity! Look around this council,¡± he motioned to the hundreds of delegates in the vast chamber.

    Some were glaring at others, some were not even paying attention, and some were quietly whispering.

    ¡°We have never been more divided!¡±

    Taking control of his tone, he stepped forward once more, projecting the full weight of his passion onto the Council of Nations.

    ¡°Law is the glue that holds our society together. And like glue, it sometimes must be reapplied. Now is that time.¡±

    More eyes turned to him.

    ¡°We teeter on the brink of crisis. The masses starve and we lack the resources to feed them. The members of this very council quarrel endlessly without laws to guide them. But out there¡± he pointed a single figure straight up, seeming to pierce through the great glass dome to reach the stars. ¡°Out there, there is no such shortage. Enough for every man and woman.¡±

    The secretary waved her hands dismissively, ¡°We are exploring the depths of space, in case you''ve forgotten, Forerunner.¡±

    Fredrich shook his head, ¡°To slow. We are divided and quarreling. Children without the guiding hand of law to show us the way. This council stands as the reflection of humanity. What does it say in its endless quarreling? It is divided, and it speaks in the voice of division, tearing down the bonds that have sustained us for so long.¡±

    By now, the majority of the council was watching him.

    ¡°But if we unify? If we join together under the guidance of a new code of Law, as our ancestors did so long ago? We will stand taller than we ever have before.¡±

    Fredrich felt their teetering, and with the full force of his ethos he struck.

    ¡°I am a Forerunner, first to enter the vast void, and as such I speak nothing but the truth. Space is nothing but another expanse to be conquered, should we band together against it. But should we quarrel in the face of it? We will fall. It is a new age, and we must be willing to band together under new laws. With my pencil I wrote law, but without your votes it remains a mere piece of paper. But with your votes? It will glue the fragmented shards of our world into united whole, one worthy of standing in the greater cosmos¡±

    I watched the pendulum swing in the wake of his words. It teetered like a pencil on the edge of a desk, a second from freedom¡¯s glorious fall. Until the child''s fat hand seized it,

    ¡°A impressive speech Mr. Smith,¡±

    ¡­brought it to their lips¡­

    ¡°But,¡±

    ¡­and ground it to splinters in their slobbering mouth.

    ¡°The verdict cannot be changed. The motion is dismissed. There shall be no establishment of unjust law in these hallowed courts.¡±

    I groaned in the shattering of colliding planets, but a finitely small part of me, a part that had been slowly growing since HER death, rejoiced.

    A second closer to the lonely end.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    Fredrich watched silently, heart heavy, as the gutted remains of a once-mighty starship crashed through the thin atmosphere of the protoplanet.

    The twisted steel ignited in a brilliant conflagration and careened to the distant ground like a falling star.

    Fredrich closed his eyes at the moment of impact, unwilling to see the blossom of fire of its contact with the ground.

    He sighed deeply, turning to his second-in-command.

    ¡°That¡¯s the third this year. What gave them the leave to be this bold.¡±

    His second in command, Justin, echoed his sigh, ¡°Well, It¡¯s technically¡± he said, raising air quotes, ¡°legal¡± he finished sarcastically.

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit. It''s not ¡®legal.¡¯ There¡¯re just no laws about it¡±

    ¡°Bullshit or not. It stands.¡±

    ¡°How are we supposed to explore the expanse of space if we have to deal with this¡± Fredrich demanded, ¡°Why are we so divided in a time where we should be united!¡±

    ¡°Easy man. I¡¯m with you¡±

    Fredrich groaned, ¡°Sorry, Justin. I¡¯m just so sick of this shit.¡±

    Justin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ¡°Yeah, I know. So am I.¡±

    ¡°It just seems like a time we should come together,¡± Fredrich lamented, ¡°A time we can finally unite against a common goal. Instead, all we¡¯ve done is quarrel further.¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Yeah¡±

    ¡°And over what¡± Fredrich scoffed, ¡°The emptiness of the void? The infinite resources out there? Both are equally futile to quarrel over.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°And don''t even get me started on the goddamn courts. ¡®The laws of Earth only apply to Earth¡¯ my ass!¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    ¡°And even if they did apply to space, they¡¯re so hopelessly outdated. Did you know it''s still legal to shoot a Fraldian in Nirvivan on Sundays?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Justin replied, suddenly looking interested.

    ¡°Only with a bow though.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡± came the disappointed reply.

    ¡°We need new laws! A new government! It''s a new age, why should the law stay the same! What we need it to s¡­¡±

    ¡°Fredrich!¡± Justin interrupted.

    Fredrich immediately stopped, a guilty look on his face.

    ¡°I''m doing it again, aren''t I?¡±

    ¡°Yep¡± came the faintly amused reply.

    Fredrich groaned, slumping over in the admiral''s chair.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± he whispered, ¡°We just lost 20 good men. And for what?¡±

    Justin offered him a sympathetic look. ¡°Well, there is one thing.¡±

    Fredrich slumped further in his chair, ¡°They already rejected it, or did you somehow forget the most humiliating day of our lives.¡±

    ¡°I haven''t forgotten¡± Justin replied grimly, ¡°But¡­¡±

    Justin stared out into the void of space, eyes fixed on a small planet far beyond their sight.

    ¡°Sometimes,¡± he began, ¡°Things must get worse before they get better.¡±

    Fredrich slowly sat up and faced his best friend, ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting¡­¡±

    Justin hesitated in turn, ¡°Maybe. If things get any worse¡­¡± he trailed off, letting the suggestion hang heavily between them.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure the code is worthy of being used. I never was a good lawmaker. Remember? That''s why I joined the Forerunners.¡±

    Justin chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I remember. You ran from the school like Octavian himself was on your heels.¡±

    ¡°I did not run,¡± Fredrich protested indignantly, ¡°I just decided the Forerunners would be a better career choice.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡± Justin chuckled, ¡°But I have read the code. And it''s solid. Besides, nothing is perfect. And your code is certainly better. It''s a start. Sometimes a start is all that¡¯s needed. Put the idea there, and the people will fill in the blanks.¡±

    For a second they were content with their silence, one resolute, one thoughtful, accompanied by the gentle hum of the stardestroyer they called their home.

    Finally, Fredrich looked up.

    ¡°What would I do without you, brother?¡±

    Justin grinned, ¡°Probably break your neck on the way to the mess hall. Or pilot us into a star. Or accidentally open the airlock. Or¡­¡±

    ¡°Ok. Ok. Enough. I get it.¡±

    But try as he did, he couldn''t suppress the grin spreading across his face. Nor could he ignore the matching grin across Justin¡¯s.

    Their laughter was a joyous sight to behold indeed, a hope of a better future, a sign the end had not yet come.

    I watched and I rooted for them.

    My children wavered over the precipice of destruction.

    How could I not root for their salvation?

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    Justin lunged at the smug man, murder in his eyes. Fredrich strained as he struggled to hold Justin and himself back. Attacking a hologram would get anything done.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡± Justin roared, ¡°I¡¯ll kill you!¡±

    ¡°Oh will you?¡± The smug man lit a synthetic cigarette, ¡°And how, exactly, will you accomplish that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll rip your throat out! Crush your bones as you bleed out!¡±

    ¡°Oh my. You''re quite violent, aren''t you?¡±

    Justin stopped struggling for a moment.

    ¡°Me?¡± he questioned in breathless shock, ¡°You just massacred a full scouting fleet, for a single class-c planet!¡±

    ¡°It was nothing personal. Just business.¡± He ran a finger across the arm of his chair, holding it up to his face as to inspect it for dust, ¡°This, however, seems personal.¡±

    This time Fredrich was the one to rage,

    ¡°Of course it''s personal! Those were our men! Our friends!¡±

    The smug man waved them off as if sweating an errant gale,

    ¡°They knew the risks.¡±

    ¡°There shouldn''t be risks like this!¡± Justin fumed.

    The smug man shrugged, ¡°Well, there are. Adapt or die.¡±

    He continued to speak and Fredrich and Justin starred in furious silence, ¡°Anyway, as I was saying, I''m claiming this sector. Enter and die. Nothing personal. Anyways, you gentlemen have yourselves a wonderful day.¡±

    With a final sweep of a centuries outdated top hat, the hologram flickered out.

    Justin immediately slumped down to the floor, Fredrich was only a second behind.

    ¡°Oh Jasun. What are we going to do?¡±

    Justin remained silent.

    ¡°227 men, a tenth of our fleet. And they did it with weapons and technology I''ve never seen before. With tech like that we could explore 5 times as fast. I¡­I just don''t know.¡±

    It was a quiet silence they resided in, the silence the drinks the essence of everything around it, somehow making it all lesser. A silence that drives all to destruction, for even destruction is better than the wretched nothingness of the void.

    I know that feeling well, the void clawing at the sides of your vision, struggling to be let it. The world fades away at its very presence, giving way to that horrible silence, that herald of the end.

    I have fought it for so long it has become a part of me, less a foreign invader, more like a dormant aspect of my being, just waiting for the chance to be expressed.

    As the void crept up on them, it too manifested in me.

    Devouring. Destroying. Reaching. Consuming.

    ¡°It''s all wrong¡± Justin whispered, a weak attempt at stopping the inevitable.

    Fredrich turned his tired eyes to his brother in arms, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It''s all wrong¡± he repeated again, this time with further power.

    Still far from enough.

    ¡°This is wrong!¡± he spoke again, the weak yell kindling a spark within him.

    The void hesitated.

    ¡°This. Is. Wrong!¡± he yelled, his desperate cry calling on the flickering of a weak flame. But a flame nonetheless.

    ¡°This! Is! Wrong!¡± he roared, the flickering flamer blooming into an inferno as he shot to his feet.

    Fredrich stared with wide eyes.

    ¡°I don''t care what the law says! The law is wrong! I don''t care what the council says! The council is wrong! I don¡¯t care what anyone says! They! Are! All! Wrong!¡±

    Flame roared, the glory of desperate hope driving back even the all-consuming void.

    I looked on with new hope.

    ¡°If they won''t accept law, we will force it on them.¡± He declared, lips drawn back in a snarl, ¡°Like parents forcing unruly children to behave.¡±

    ¡°Justin¡­that''s¡­rebellion.¡± Fredrich shivered.

    ¡°Against what? A government that refuses to uphold law is no government.¡±

    ¡°Still¡±

    Justin fell to his knees before his still sitting brother and pressed their foreheads together.

    ¡°How much is a life worth, brother.¡±

    ¡°W¡­What?¡±

    ¡°Answer, brother. How much is a life worth?¡±

    ¡°...Everything¡± came the whispered reply.

    ¡°Then, how can we not rebel? We are Forerunners, trained to see and traverse the paths no one else can see. This is the path I see. To feed the starving people. Stop the inevitable war. To explore the expanse of space.¡±

    Once more, I watched the teetering pencil go through the motions, on the brink of that glorious plunge. And this time, there was no hand to stop it.

    With an almost reverent silence, it toppled over the edge.

    ¡°Ok¡± Fredrich whispered.

    They remained on the floor, foreheads locked together, for the entire night, gathering strength to face the challenges to come.

    And when they rose the next morning, they had a new purpose.

    Bring Law to that lawless cosmos.

 34.2 - Law

    Months later, Justin stood on a high dais, words pouring out of him as he rallied the audience to a common cause.

    ¡°We are Forerunners, explorers of the unknown, walkers of that razor edge. This is the path before us. Will we back down? Or will we venture forth fearlessly!¡±

    A resounding applause met his speech and followed him as he was beamed up.

    When he reappeared it was at a circular table, occupied by a mere dozen people.

    ¡°Excellent speech brother¡± Fredrich complimented.

    ¡°Eh. I still think yours to the council was better.¡± Justin took a seat beside Fredrich,

    ¡°Well of course.¡±

    Justin snorted and took a seat.

    The men and women at this table were the true power of the revolution they had been building up the last few months. Each was an admiral or captain of renown and skill, unsatisfied with the chaos that had unfolded in what should have been a time of triumphant expansion.

    They hailed from all nationalities, representing the universality of the disorder.

    ¡°Brothers and Sisters,¡± Fredrich began, ¡°we are all here for the same reason.¡±

    He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. When he opened them once more, they blazed.

    ¡°We. Are. Furious.¡±

    ¡°Our ascension should have been a time to come together,¡± he continued in a trembling voice, ¡°and for a time it seemed we had. Earthly war ceased and the world council was created to stand as the voice of humanity. But we erred. The council had no Law. No constitution to bind them to a higher purpose. Even now it teeters on the brink of all-out war, as it struggles to navigate the lawless world it created.¡±

    He drew in another trembling breath.

    ¡°Instead of simply agreeing to unite in exploring and acquiring the bounties of the cosmos, they stare at it like ravenous alphas at a pile of meat, constrained by each other and preventing the starving dogs behind from partaking.¡±

    It is sadly the nature of humanity that few ever rise above the instincts of their biologics.

    But, luckily, some do.

    Fredrich¡¯s chair toppled to the floor as he exploded to his feet.

    ¡°No more! If they cannot agree on guidelines, then we will impose them, acting as the parents they have so clearly proved they need.¡±

    A contemplative silence filled the room.

    ¡°And what,¡± a dark-skinned man questioned,¡± exactly are we going to do?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to force them to accept a constitution.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± the man scoffed, ¡°One written by you? One designed to put Nirvivan above all?¡±

    ¡°This,¡± Justin butted in, ¡°is exactly what stopped the council at home from implementing one. The very distrust that threatens the fate of our very species.¡±

    He slowly stood up from his chair, fixing the dark-skinned man with a piercing gaze.

    ¡°But we are different. We are Forerunners, men and women of action. We have seen the shadow of the reaper, and we understand the consequences of disorder. The very fact you are present speaks louder than anything you can say¡±

    The man sat back and crossed his arms, ¡°We are here because we agree that something needs to change. That doesn''t mean we agree with your solution. We are not as easily swayed as the men in the base below.¡±

    ¡°Careful,¡± Justin warned, ¡°They are still Forerunners. It would be wise to watch your words.¡±

    The man hesitated for a second before nodding and conceding the point.¡±

    ¡°Today,¡± Fredrich picked up, shooting his brother a glare ¡°We have brought you all here, not only to discuss the how of the revolution but also the what. Every one of you brings with them their own unique nationality, culture, perspective, and understanding. We cannot speak for all of humanity, but with you all, we can create the framework for them to fill in.¡±

    The captains leaned forward as a hologram appeared before them.

    ¡°This,¡± Fredrich enunciated, zooming in, ¡°is the first draft of the constitution. And now we will refine it into something we all agree with. If we are to bring unity, we must be unified ourselves.¡±

    This time, it was a short woman with a prosthetic arm that voiced her doubts,

    ¡°Is it truly possible to come to such a consensus? After all, the council failed.¡±

    Justin turned an earnest gaze to her,

    ¡°It will be messy, yes. But change always is. And it will be worse if we stand complacent. We are Forerunners, trained to traverse the most difficult of paths, will this be the one that halts us?¡±

    He was met with a wave of hesitant nods.

    ¡°Good. Let''s get started.¡±

    They wove law as I once did, but where I was one, they were many.

    How joyous it must be to be accompanied.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    It was a cloudy day when they finally struck.

    The council was in full session, with dozens of sovereign nations subtly jockeying for position and power.

    With every disagreement, they inched closer to destruction.

    Among them, the few that could see the inevitable end, despaired, turning their heads up to the heavens as if they could intervene.

    And they did.

    Well not me, but nonetheless, they intervened.

    With a muffled boom, hundreds of warships, members of dozens of fleets, fired their sonic disruptors as one. In an instant the clouds were banished, as if swept away by the hand of god.

    I had done so once. This was more impressive.

    The rays of the sun began to stream to the earth, piercing the doomed roof of the council and bringing light back to it.

    One by one, the council members looked up as everything became basked in new radiance.

    And gazed into a new sky. The combined fleet floated there, massive star-destroyers and personal crafts both, illuminated by the sun behind them. Standing there, ringed in light, there was no question of who they were.

    They were the Forerunners, the first to ascend.

    With a flash, beams of every color descended from the largest of the star-destroyers. The great domed roof shattered, and there they stood, the admirals, accompanied by a rain of clear glass.

    The council screamed as the razor shards rained down on them, only to be stopped by a shield of plasma that manifested to protect them.

    The screaming petered off, giving way to confusion as the council scrutinized the men and women before him.

    ¡°What,¡± the council chair started breathlessly, ¡°is the meaning of this?¡±

    The gathered admirals only gazed around disappointedly.

    Gaining back her voice, the council chair tried again, ¡°Excuse me! What is the meaning of this!¡±

    The dark-skinned admiral, Noah, stepped forward.

    ¡°This is an intervention.¡±

    ¡°An intervention? Well, this better be damn important for you to invade the SEAT OF THE COUNCIL.¡±

    Fredrich stepped forth beside Noah, ¡°it is.¡±

    ¡°You¡± the chair pointed, ¡°you¡¯re a Forerunner. Wait.¡± she paused closely observing the rest of the gathered admirals, ¡°You¡¯re all Forerunners! Well, in that case, by the authority of the council chair, I command you to tell me what is going on here.¡±

    Upon realizing they were Forerunners, men and women under her command, she had visibly relaxed. Justin¡¯s next words shattered that illusion.

    ¡°It truly is an intervention. This council needs help. And we are here to provide it.¡±

    ¡°What right do you have?¡± the chair questioned.

    This time it was the woman with the prosthetic arm that responded,

    ¡°Every right. We are citizens of the myriad countries represented here, and as such, we have every right to make our voice heard in the halls of government.¡±

    ¡°Thats¡­Thats¡­¡± the chair stuttered, evidently still recovering from their dramatic entrance.

    ¡°Enough.¡± Fredrich stepped forward once more, ¡°I will spare you the speech of last time. If you cannot be convinced to act you will be forced. By nightfall, this assembly will have a fully developed and deployed constitution to fairly guide all interactions and truly unify us.¡±

    Protests erupted throughout the hall, a kaleidoscope of different languages, all carried the same sentiment.

    That''s not fair.

    ¡°Nothing is.¡± Justin roared, silencing the crowd, ¡°Nobody gets everything they want. But compromise is the lifeblood of cooperation. And you will learn its art¡±

    The chair finally seemed to gather herself, ¡°This is rebellion! The people will never stand for it.¡±

    Noah let out a dark chuckle, ¡°oh, they stand for it all right.¡± He waved his hand, pulling up massive holograms of protesting people. Protesting against the council and the war they could all feel themselves inching towards.

    ¡°You seem to have forgotten that you all are nothing more than a voice for those people. You are servants not kings. So serve, dont rule.¡±

    In the silence that followed, Fredrich summoned a new hologram, this one dwarfing all the others.

    ¡°This is the preliminary document we have drafted, one that has been approved by every Forerunner here. You all are going to improve it. And then you are going to ratify it.¡±

    ¡°We won''t give in to this strong arming!¡± someone in the back yelled.

    Justin raised an eyebrow, ¡°Even if it''s backed by the people you represent?¡±

    He swiped a finger, bringing up massive holographic representations of polls and votes.

    ¡°As you can see. The majority is heavily in favor of a new constitution.¡±

    The holograms flickered out.

    Justin sighed, ¡°Beyond all the petty struggling you have let yourselves become embedded in, you were all elected or appointed for a reason. So dig deep, find that reason, that unique perspective, and share it. Have it immortalized in this budding declaration. Stand for your ideals, but do it for the collective good, rather than personal good.¡±

    Fredrich pulled a chair out of nowhere and sat down, ¡°The universe has become so much larger than just our small planet. Out there¡± he pointed to the brilliant sun and beyond, ¡°are things wondrous and terrible. In unity we can find them, in unity we can finally act as a government truly should, not this hollow shell.¡±

    The rest of the admirals followed Fredrich and pulled chairs out of nowhere, taking a seat on the raised speech platform. Justin leaned forward, sweeped a resolute gaze across the gathered assembly.

    ¡°We will moderate this discussion and act as the voice of the people. You all will finally show why you were all elected in the first place. It will be done once it is ratified by both a vote of this council, and a vote from citizens worldwide. Nobody will leave until the work is finished.

    Slowly, one by one, the council members began to nod.

    Finally, one spoke, ¡°I think article 16, point 43 is too overbearing.¡±

    High above, I grinned.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------------

    In the end, it took nearly a week to fully create and ratify the code. A week where not a single person left the council chambers. It was beautiful to my eyes, a creation worthy of divinity should it have been accomplished by a single person. It was a weaving, and a war all in one, but under the guiding words of the Forerunners the needle was threaded, and law established.

    Sometimes, I forget about the power of law. It is not flashy, nor is it noticeable. It is subtle, and it is pervasive. It unlocks the true potential of a collective by allowing it to police itself, removing the need for higher interference. I remember the first laws I created, the guidelines in the delicate dance of matter and energy. Yet the laws of man are different, flexible where mine were absolute. They were strange at first, binding the creator as tightly as anyone else. An edict of greater power than he who created it. I remember the first laws man created, written by Themis under the watchful eye of Micheal. I remember the first law broken, the first punishment meted out. I remember the unity law brought them, the binding of individuals to shared purpose. I remember how they changed, binding and yet obedient to the people¡¯s desires. I remember it all. The failures of law. The triumphs. The darkest moments. The brightest.

    So I can say with confidence, as the sun rose on the dawn of the eighth day it was bright.

    It was triumphant.

    The falling pencil hit the ground point first, and when it rolled away, a mark was made. A mark of its own making, rather than of the hand guiding it.

    Even in its binding power, the law was freeing.

    I smiled.

    Today would not be the end.

    And yet the void still whispered¡­

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------------

 35 - The Missing Piece

    The soul is an ephemeral spark, a brief flash of light, precursor to the roaring fire. For the vast majority of human existence, its existence was unproved and doubted. Not by those of my line of course, but by the general populace. Until the child of the void. The question was simple. If we have an inherent essence, how do we isolate it? The answer was equally simple. Sever the senses of one who had never sensed anything, and observe. And in doing so, they peered into the essence of the soul. Alas, some things are beyond science, beyond analysis. They must be felt, experienced, not studied. None of the scientists present didn''t survive. The essence of infinity is not something most can bear. They gazed upon the reflection of a weak soul, born of apathy and ignorance. If they had gazed upon a soul of my caliber, well, they would have survived a instant. Some souls just shine brighter. Brilliant.

    The lights in the lab flickered wildly as the power grid began to fall apart. A man dashed through the flickering lights and falling spark, tripping several times in his haste, yet being careful not to drop the vials in his hand

    ¡°Almost. Almost. Almost.¡± he chanted under his breath with a fevered intensity.

    He sped up further, metallic grafts beneath his skin heating up as he left mortal limits behind. The shelves and tables of the crowded lab began to literally explode in front of him as he blasted them aside with no care for the precious plans and prototypes upon them.

    They could wait. This could not.

    Finally, he burst through a closed door, into a room absolutely filled with empty vials and batteries.

    ¡°I found them!¡± he yelled.

    ¡°Insert them¡± a robotic voice responded.

    With utmost haste and care, the man ran up to a long rectangular box, almost like a coffin, but with wires and cords sticking out of nearly every available centimeter of space, and poured the vials into an open funnel.

    ¡°Sufficient material¡± the robotic voice stated flatly.

    ¡°Good! Good!¡± The man ran to a computer and began furiously typing.

    ¡°Systems at full power¡­ Sufficient materials¡­ full computer functionality. Ok, begin resurrection!¡±

    Immediately the coffin began to shiver as the incredible power computer began to stitch the broken body within together. Molecule by molecule, cell by cell, the body began to regain functionality.

    ¡°Yes! YES! It''s working! It''s working!¡±

    I observed sadly. The man¡¯s attempt was doomed to fail. It was an impressive attempt, one so impressive he might actually succeed in stitching together the body and mind. But the soul was gone. Not even I could do anything about that. But I understood.

    To be alone was the greatest curse.

    Below, the man continued his furious typing as the robots pushed the body closer and closer to perfection.

    ¡°Careful with the neuron sequence! Wait¡­¡± he hesitated doing some quick math in his head,

    ¡°We got it wrong! Switch segments 2 and 45 and reroute 10% of functionality to fixing the gaps left behind!¡±

    I watched, even more impressed, as the man found multiple errors in his calculation mid-operation, and fixed them just as fast. It was a shame he was doomed to failure.

    Finally, the last cell was stitched together. With a loud *POP* the power went out, and with a gentler hum the backup generator kicked in. The man slowly approached the unfolding coffin, slowly as if afraid to let hope seize him.

    ¡°Brother?¡± he called out.

    With a mechanical whine, the coffin opened slowly to reveal the body of a young boy, perhaps 12 or 13. His chest was rising and falling slowly.

    ¡°Brother?¡± the man called once more.

    The child opened his eyes, and the man stumbled back.

    I know what he saw. That terrible emptiness. The wrongness. The void.

    The child slowly rolled out of the coffin, stumbling as he rose to his feet.

    He slowly flexed his hand in front of his face, his visage a mask of apathy.

    ¡°Alive¡± he enunciated as if trying out the word, ¡°I¡¯m alive.¡±

    ¡°Br..br..brother?¡±

    ¡°You are¡­ Alan?¡±

    ¡°Y..yes. I¡¯m Alan.¡±

    ¡°Hmmmm¡±

    Then he collapsed to the ground.

    The man, Alan, rushed over to his brother.

    The child remained still.

    ¡°C..c..c..computer. What''s wrong with him?¡±

    ¡°Nothing¡± came the mechanical reply, ¡°vitals and neural activity are normal.¡±

    ¡°Is he awake?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡±

    ¡°Then why isn''t he moving?¡±

    ¡°Answer unknown¡±

    ¡°Any guesses?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°No.¡±

    I knew what was wrong. The boy lacked a soul. The body and mind may be fully functional on their own, but it is the soul that grants the reason to operate. The spark to start the engine. Without it most creatures simply curl up and die, apathetic to their end. In the beginning, I managed to create creatures that could function without a soul, beasts of mindless destruction, but humans are meant for souls. Without them, they cease to be human.

    Alan Gerrik, one of the greatest human minds in the known universe, cured up beside the corpse of his brother and cried.

    He had failed once more

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------

    ¡°This¡­This is amazing! Alan, do you know what you¡¯ve done?¡±

    The pudgy man looked as if he was going to kneel over at any moment, yet despite his frantic panting, he continued.

    ¡°This technology¡­ It''s revolutionary. The way you pieced together his mind with advanced computer models¡­stunning. And those algorithms¡­mmmmm¡­beautiful.¡±

    Finally, the burden of his words became too much and leaned forward, panting.

    The other scientists were more reserved in their investigation, but they couldn''t hide their excitement.

    Finally, one asked the pertinent question.

    ¡°Didi it work?¡±

    Alan didn''t respond, simply quietly leading them deeper into the lab. A pair of titanium doors swung open to reveal his brother suspended in life-support fluid.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered quietly, ¡°It worked.¡±

    A moment of silence precluded the explosion.

    ¡°It worked?!¡±

    ¡°We can resurrect people now?!¡±

    ¡°How?!¡±

    Alan simply waited out the storm with stoic exhaustion. When they finally quieted, he continued.

    ¡°As I was saying, Yes it worked. He regained full functionality in both mind and body. Brain scans perfectly match those pre-mortem and he retains full memories. We have even observed dreams, though they are¡­ strange.¡±

    More shocked exclamations filled the room until one scientist finally had the presence of mind to question Alan''s strange melancholy.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Alan? This is a great triumph. Humanity, or rather you, have conquered death!¡±

    Alan sighed, running a hand over the life support pod, ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    ¡°Wrong?¡±

    ¡°While he theoretically has full functionality, he refuses to do anything. If I hadn''t put him in the pod, he would have died on the floor, all the while being perfectly capable of rising to his feet and fetching a meal. He exhibits a level of apathy I had not thought possible.¡±

    ¡°Why, is that?¡± another scientist questioned.

    Alan hesitated, ¡°That''s the reason I called you here. I have an idea.¡±

    ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°In the weeks since the failed resurrection, I have scoured the web in search of anything that can explain his strange state. I found nothing, except for a few failed cloning attempts with the same problem. So, completely cut-free. I came up with my own explanation.¡±

    The scientist leaned forward, eager to learn.

    ¡°He¡¯s missing something. Something crucial.¡± He looked around hesitantly. ¡°He¡¯s missing a soul.¡±

    Immediately, the room erupted into argument.

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit!¡±

    ¡°Soul¡¯s don¡¯t exist!¡±

    ¡°Come on, Alan. You can do better.¡±

    Alan stoic exhaustion seemed to fade, replaced by annoyance.

    ¡°Listen, will you! I know it sounds insane but check for yourself. His readings are perfect. He is the very image of a healthy child, mind and body. Conventional science can do nothing here. We need to turn to things more¡­esertoic.¡±

    ¡°Alan, tell us true. Where did this idea come from?¡±

    Alan sighed. ¡°When science failed me, I took to scouring history. I didn¡¯t find anything medically relevant, but I found something else. Detailed accounts of the existence of the souls, and their power. I traced the origins of the story to a bloodline. The¡­Erduks.¡±

    Ah, the Erduks. Even beyond their outstanding members, even the least of them had incredible affinity for the soul. It''s no wonder they knew.

    Alan breathed in deep. ¡°I had a hunch, so I contacted Halen an Erduk and asked her. She was sympathetic to my plight and told me of her family''s oldest stories. They¡¯re ancient, you know? They can easily trace their lineage thousands of years back. Anyways, she said the mind and body are like a¡­self-driving spaceship. Perfectly capable of going anywhere it wants, whenever it wants. But it is the human within that gives it the reason. The soul within the human that gives them reason to use their body and mind.¡±

    The observing scientists actually looked curious now. ¡°And why did you decide to believe her?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe her yet, per se. Just have¡­suspicions. And those suspicions are because what she told me matches perfectly with what he¡¯s experiencing.¡± he waved at the life support pod.

    ¡°He has perfect functionality, and I was thorough in my search. Thousands of the most skilled doctors in the universe verified that. Yet he doesn''t move. Not because he can''t, but because he has no reason to.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Alan.¡± one of the scientists started, ¡°This seems insane. Are you sure you¡¯re not just grasping at straws now?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Alan admitted, ¡°But, that doesn''t mean I''m wrong. Take a look at the data yourself.¡±

    The scientist all crowded around the projected data table, and even after half an hour of searching failed to find a single thing wrong.

    ¡°Ok,¡± one admitted, ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with him, but how would you prove the existence of the¡­soul.¡±

    ¡°Glad you asked. Follow me.¡±

    He led them up the stairs to a massive room, absolutely filled with black pods. Abruptly, Alan turned to the scientist, and posed a question.

    ¡°How do you isolate something?¡±

    ¡°Separate it from everything else.¡± came the response.

    ¡°So how would you isolate the inherent essence of a person?¡±

    ¡°Isolate them from the world.¡± the scientist responded with growing apprehension. ¡°Wait, Alan. You can¡¯t be¡­¡±

    Alan snapped, ¡°Exactly. You turn the volume down to nothing. And you listen. You seal the senses of one who has never sensed, and you observe what manifests in their absence. If they cannot find substance outside, there will be nothing to drown out the substance within.¡±

    ¡°Alan! That is horrifically unethical!¡±

    He went on as if he hadn''t heard. ¡°We will be using human fetuses, and growing them in these sealed tubes. Clones of the fetuses will be used as the control group.¡±

    A horrified gasp spread throughout the group.

    ¡°Alan! I know you¡¯re grieving. But this is not the way! Child experimentation! Are you insane?¡±

    Alan finally addressed them, ¡°Insane? Or brilliant?¡± he whispered. He gestured with his right hand, and the black pods suddenly became see through. In every pod, a child floated, wires emerging from their cerebrums.

    Shocked silence filled the room as the scientist, merely half a dozen strong, began to back away.

    Alan continued his speech, ¡°I bet you¡¯re wondering why I brought you here. Well, I¡¯ll tell you a secret. I¡¯ve already proven the existence of the soul. But the data is¡­scrambled. The computers can''t comprehend it, but I can somewhat. I suspect comprehension requires a soul.¡±

    He fixed a hungry gaze on them.

    ¡°That''s where you all come in. You will be interpreting the data and using it to help me build a comprehensive model of the soul ¡±

    ¡°Alan, this¡­this¡­this is insane.¡±

    Alan took a step towards them.

    ¡°Insane? Or brilliant? I guess only time will tell.¡±

    His laughter was terrible to behold.

 35.2 - Child of the Void

    The soul is a strange thing. Not even I understand them, and I am the first soul. My birth, or perhaps creation, remains a mystery to me. But even my creations evade understanding as well. Adam and Eve, the first of humanity, were forged from ripped-out parts of my own soul. But their children were not. The souls of the second generation of humans and beyond were wrought of love. I have observed the true birth of humans, the moment the soul coalesces. To my senses, it simply appears out of nowhere. Upon death, I am able to sense more. The soul goes somewhere. A place just beyond my reach. And I have tried to reach it, divine essence burning with the effort. It¡¯s maddening, and terrifying. All this goes to say that the soul is a construct of infinite depth. Almost all attempts to unravel it fail.

    After all, infinity is not so easily gazed into.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

    ¡°How are the readings?¡± Alan questioned, maniacal gleam in his mind as he frantically scrawled diagrams on a massive whiteboard.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± the fat scientist started, ¡°they¡¯re increasing.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Alan looked up.

    ¡°Yes. None of the clones have so much as twitched a muscle. But every week, more and more of the true humans move or babble, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Continue¡± Alan promoted.

    ¡°We¡¯re running into problems with interpreting the data.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ it''s strange. It can¡¯t be studied analytically. It must be felt.¡±

    ¡°So, feel it? I don''t see a problem.¡± Alan started to get back to his work.

    ¡°Wait. It''s just that it''s growing complicated. Really complicated. At first it was simple. A movement that somehow radiated joy, anger or some other basic emotion. Now the meanings are growing increasingly complicated. We can barely catch the tail end of some of them. And they hurt.¡±

    ¡°They hurt?¡± Alan questioned, cocking a head.

    ¡°Yeah. They hurt to look at, hurt to contemplate. It''s like¡­ remember that class in university, Interstellar Physics. Everytime we walked out of the class, it hurt. The more you understood the more you realized how complicated it was. Layer of depth, dancing just out of your reach!¡±

    He stopped to take a breath.

    ¡°It''s like that, but somehow more¡­comprehensive,  if that makes sense. I¡­I don''t know how much longer we can keep doing this. I can feel my mind degrading, and in turn, something else is coming out.¡±

    Alan was on him in a second, ¡°Something else? Explain.¡± he commanded.

    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know. It''s like my rational thinking is fading to the background. Why yesterday I was having trouble solving a basic Grandenetti Chain!¡±

    Alan started scribbling stuff on the whiteboard. ¡°And what¡¯s coming to the foreground?¡±

    The fat scientist hesitated. ¡°Clarity¡± he whispered, ¡°My emotions are purer, and my purpose is clearer. I react faster and adjust more smoothly. I feel¡­more awake than I''ve ever been before.¡±

    He closed his eyes.

    ¡°But I''m scared. I don''t know what I''m becoming. But at the same time it is so¡­freeing. So powerful.¡±

    He opened his eyes, and Alan saw a flash of something.

    ¡°Fascinating. It looks like I need to spend more time in the pod room.¡±

    He left with the fat scientist, leaving behind a full white board.

    Paragraphs upon paragraphs decorated its surface, interspersed with drawings and diagrams.

    And in its center?

    A boy with a hole in his heart.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    Alan was back at his whiteboard, except now his writing was¡­different. More fluid and expressive, rather than analytical. It was research, yes. But it was also art, each paragraph seamlessly blending into the next, augmented by abstract symbols. Time slowed as he unraveled, and yet simultaneously created, the very essence of the soul.

    Close¡­

    Closer¡­

    Almost¡­

    Far¡­

    Closer¡­

    It was a maddening cycle of almost reaching the end before discovering new layers. He wondered if it would ever end, but there, trapped in that sublime mindset, there was no room for hesitation. No room for failure.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Hours upon hours later he was interrupted by a yell.

    ¡°Alan!¡± Jessica yelled, ¡°Something¡¯s happening!¡±

    ¡°What!¡± he yelled back, annoyed at being interrupted.

    ¡°One of them¡¯s stirring more than usual. We¡­We think it might be awakening.¡±

    Alan ran all the way, turning into little more than a blur as he engaged his augments to their fullest capacity. It only took him a minute to arrive at the pod. In it was the runt of the litter, the smallest physically and mentally, and the one with the least activity. Till then.

    The baby, now a small child, was twitching with increasing frequency. With every movement the scientists winced, weathering the bombardment of pure meaning.

    Once upon a time they would have scattered, but over the years they had been forged into something sterner. They were more in tune with their souls than most would ever be, and with that awareness they called up basic protections to shield them from the awakening soul. Yet their attunement couldn''t match that of one who had only known his soul since the second he was conceived, so they suffered regardless.

    As they watched the runt¡¯s movements became more pronounced as so did the meaning behind them, turning winces into low groans.

    Finally, just as it was becoming unbearable, the runt¡¯s movements finally stopped. There was a moment of silence, true silence, deeper than any normal silence.

    Then the runt¡¯s eyes snapped open, golden irises shining bright.

    And with unseeing eyes, it saw.

    Ripples of meaning, heavier than anything before swept outward, inspiring movement in the other children. I reeled with the scientists, but for a different reason. They were desperately leveraging their meager knowledge of the soul to maintain their sanity.

    I was in shock.

    This should not be possible.

    To awaken one''s self off the essence of one¡¯s soul alone was a paradox. Self-Wrought Existence, the creation of the self, as I had done. A creation worthy of divinity. Yet the runt didn''t ascend. I frowned, and looked closer until I realized the problem. His soul was too weak.

    All souls are infinite on a physical level, but on a spiritual level, there are different magnitudes of infinity. Divinity requires a certain strength of soul, one the runt did not possess.

    Even so, it was a feat of unsurpassed accomplishment, and it provoked an appropriate response. The scientists screamed as their very minds threatened to give in.

    ¡°Alan!¡± one choked, ¡°Emergency destruct! Now!¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Alan yelled back, ¡°This is the greatest discovery in the history of mankind! We need to weather it!¡±

    ¡°No, Alan!¡± Another yelled, ¡°We won''t make it! Don''t let your greed be the death of us!¡±

    Alan laughed, a tinge of something hair-raising manifesting.

    ¡°You stand on the precipice of the greatest discovery in human history! Of the greatest power in the cosmos! And you want to turn back!¡± he yelled incredulously. He laughed again. ¡°No. Understanding or death.¡±

    The waves of meaning were growing increasingly powerful bombarding the scientist with the joy of a people one moment, and the chill of true death the next. And that was just a result of the child¡¯s existence. Any of his actions¡­they would have a much greater impact.

    The six scientists glanced at each other, and finding mutual understanding, forced themselves to their feets. Standing there, strong against the kaleidoscope of incomprehensible visions, they cut heroic figures indeed. But for every hero, there must be a villain.

    Alan rose to his feet as well, chuckling as he placed himself between them and the control panel.

    ¡°Finally some grew some spines, Huh.¡±

    The scientists stepped forwards as one, ¡°Move. Or be moved.¡±

    Alan grinned madly,

    ¡°No.¡±

    The scientist rushed forward as one, not thinking, just acting. That is the essence of a soul. Existence.

    Alan attacked them, augments flaring as he moved faster than any human should.

    And found himself matched.

    The scientist fought for their very minds, allowing their souls to shine in the forefront as shields.

    And Alan fought for his brother, pushing himself to the absolute limit.

    In a world of twisting meaning, and impossible visions, seven scientists fought over the rise of a demigod.

    I was impressed by how they fought. In such a place, the laws I had so painstakingly forged meant little. They fought unconstrained, soaring through the air one moment and striking with biting rhetoric the next.

    It was a battle in many dimensions.

    But all things must come to an end.

    The runt, no, the child of the void opened his mouth and said something. It was a question, and a declaration. Of existence itself.

    It struck the warring scientist like a runaway spaceship. Four instantly collapsed, minds shattered. The remaining two fell to their knees, clutching their heads.

    Alan merely tilted his head back and started to laugh uncontrollably, his insanity temporarily shielding his mind, as he basked in the child of the void¡¯s declaration.

    The two scientists began to crawl to the control panel, until about half-way there, one couldn''t take it anymore.

    ¡°Go, Richard¡± he managed to choke out, ¡°This isn''t about us anymore. That thing can¡¯t be allowed to live. And neither can¡­Alan.¡±

    With those final words, he slumped to the floor, mind broken.

    The final scientist, Richard, mustered his will, and continued to drag himself forward.

    Time narrowed to a single instance, a frozen hell of meaning and death.

    The next he was at the control panel.

    Alan finally noticed him. ¡°Richard! Get away from there!¡±

    He tried to make his way over, but found his bodily control fading as his pure significance began to find a way through his maze of madness.

    Richard frantically typed away on the console. Luckily, as an entity without a soul, it was largely immune to the effects of the child of the void.

    Finally, he arrived at the lab¡¯s self-destruct sequence. He looked around taking in his last moments of life. A child with golden eyes. A crawling madman. 5 corpses.

    He sighed.

    Then, with the last fragments of his mind, he pressed the button.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    Nobody survived the massive explosion. Not even the child of the void. It may have possessed an awakened soul, but it was still mortal, young, unused to its power.

    I was, strangely enough, sympathetic to Alan. All he wanted was to bring back his brother. I know what it''s like, the madness of being alone. It lurks around me even now.

    The incident shook me. It was among the closest I''ve seen beings to achieving ascension.

    And it was by the mere virtue of manifesting its soul.

    Some things truly are beyond comprehension.

 36 - The Graveyard

    Humanity had always thought themselves alone in the vast cosmos, the sole heirs to the bounties of creation. Until they discovered they were not. It was my ancestor, Isabella an Erduk, that first reported the existence of the corpse of a star-eater. And that was only the start, further time revealed the corpses of uncountable species. Space was not a land of bounties, but rather a graveyard. My ancestor dug deep, and in doing so, found the first record of Angelica an Erduk, detailing the reason for her treason. God. The creator. The savior. The butcher. Knowledge is like a flame. For some it is power, illuminating light in the dark. However, with enough, that fire only burns. Ignorance truly is bliss. But it is bliss we cannot afford. When the cleaver turns on us, we must be ready.

    Isabella an Erduk flew through the streets of Rashek, marveling at the metropolis it had grown into. Tower of sleek steel and glass pierced the sky, surrounded by fleets of hover cars, like little flies, buzzing around them. Verdant walkways connected the skyscraper at every level, overflowing with plants and flowers. In fact, plant life sprouted from nearly every available surface, making the city look like a forest from above. In the center of the magnificent city, a tower, larger than any other, spiraled towards the heavens. The Mortal Bridge Tower was the home of the World Council. They convened at the very peak of the tower, exposed to the elements, connecting humanity''s humble past on the earth, to its glorious future in the heavens.

    Isabella tore her gaze away from the tower and focused back on the task at hand.

    ¡°17 Thomas St. 7th District.¡±

    Isabella¡¯s virtual assistant, a hologram of a middle-aged woman popped up. Imitating concern it asked, ¡°Are you sure, mistress? That place is known for violence. It might not be safe.¡±

    Isabella scoffed, ¡°If any of them can hurt me, I deserve to be injured.¡±

    The assistant rerouted the hover car without further questions. In the end it was merely a soulless AI. Isabella hated talking to them. As sensitive as she was they gave her the creeps, mimicking the behavior of souled individuals despite not having one.

    In all honesty, Isabella didn''t particularly want to go there either. But someone in there had the information she needed. Knowledge was power, and an Erduk didn¡¯t turn down power.

    They used it.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Isabella knocked on the door, ignoring the stares she was attracting. Even when trying to hide it, she was a stunningly beautiful woman, with thick dark hair and brilliant sapphire eyes. She rather liked her appearance, but in times like this she wished she blended in a bit better. Why did he have to insist on meeting her personally? She knocked harder, betraying her annoyance.

    ¡°I''m comin, I''m comin, calm down.¡± a voice slurred.

    The door opened revealing an aging man. His frame betrayed the might form he had once had, leaving behind only a husk of the man.

    In more than just body, Isabella noted as she gazed into his haunted red eyes.

    He froze upon seeing her, a small frown appearing on his face.

    She cleared her throat, ¡°Commander Fury?¡±

    For a second his eyes sharpened, revealing the man he once was, before they deflated once more.

    ¡°I ain¡¯t no commander no more, lass. You must be the Erduk girl.¡±

    ¡°Isabella an Erduk, commander.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I aint a commander no more. Anyways, come in.¡±

    Isabella followed him into the ratty old apartment. It was only a single room, with a bed stuffed in the corner and a small table in the center. The floor was strewn with empty alcohol bottles, and if one looked closer they could find hints of more potent substances as well. The man, Fury, sat down and popped open another bottle. Isabella looked around in shock. She had met Fury once, when she was a young girl. He had been imposing, steely willed. Nothing like the wreck before her.

    Fifteen years ago, Commander Fury, one of the most decorated and respected commanders of all time, suddenly resigned and disappeared. Nobody knew where he had gone, until Isabella got a call last week, setting up a meeting. He had not explained what for, but Isabella had had a feeling it might be important. Looking around, she found that feeling validated. Men like Fury didn¡¯t break easily.

    ¡°Are¡­Are you sure you should be drinking that much?¡±

    Fury ignored her, finishing off his bottle and throwing it into the corner.

    She looked down at the pathetic wreck of a once great man, and felt a surge of unexpected rage. She remembered Fury in his prime, even though she¡¯d only been a girl. He had been imposing, strong. Unbreakable.

    ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°You always were curious.¡±

    ¡°So.¡±

    He stopped chuckling, his posture taking a far-off quality, ¡°Some things can''t be faced.¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Sure they can. If one only has the courage to try, instead of hiding behind a goddamn bottle!¡± her last words came out in a yell as she kicked a bottle across the room. It shattered on the opposite law. She stopped, confused, she wasn''t sure where that had come from.

    Fury shook his head sadly, ¡°Ignorance truly is bliss. Sometimes the flame only burns.¡±

    They stood at an impasse for a while, Isabella waiting for Fury to say something, and Fury content with his bottle.

    Isabella was the first to crack, ¡°So?¡±

    Fury looked up, confusion evident in his alcohol addled eyes.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Why did you invite me here?¡± Isabella prompted, ¡°How did you end up like this?¡±

    Fury hesitated, ¡°Are you sure you want to hear?¡±

    ¡°Is that not why you invited me here?¡± Isabella replied, her annoyance clear.

    He sighed, ¡°I¡¯m finding this harder than expected, but very well.¡±

    His eyes sharpened again, ¡°Engage full cloaking protocols.¡± he commanded, sounding like his old self for a second. A mechanical whirl escaped from the walls and something within them shifted.

    Isabella whirled to face Fury, ¡°What was that?!¡±

    ¡°Full cloaking protocols. You can be the only one to know this.¡±

    Isabella felt like a girl again, eagerly waiting to receive a secret.

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone in the cosmos.¡± Fury blurted out.

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone in the cosmos.¡± Fury stood and started pacing around agitatedly, ¡°There are other creatures out there.¡±

    The room whirled around Isabella. She had not expected something of that magnitude. In an effort to recenter herself, she seized on the first question to pop up.

    ¡°Why did that of all things reduce you to this? ¡°

    He froze, then agonizingly slowly he turned to her. Terror and shame lurked in his eyes.

    ¡°Because¡± he whispered, ¡°They were all dead. It was a cosmic graveyard of unprecedented scale, trillions upon trillions. And at its center? A giant that dwarfed stars.¡±

    He took a deep breath and a swig of alcohol to calm his shivering.

    ¡°Oh Jausn, its eyes! Dead orbs as large as a star. You don¡¯t know, can¡¯t know what seeing that much death does to a man. It''s unbearable!¡±

    He took another swig and started shaking, gently rocking back and forth.

    ¡°I felt it,¡± he whispered, ¡°Death. It was there the whole time, watching me. It''s always watching.¡±

    He started sobbing softly.

    Isabella stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder comforting him until his sobs trickled off.

    ¡°Where, Fury, where.¡±

    He looked into her sapphire eyes, searching, and finding.

    ¡°Sector 101, 83.5 light jumps true north from the heart.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Fury. I¡¯ll send some help.¡±

    She walked out the door, shivering as she realized what this meant.

    But first, she had to see it with her own eyes.

    Far above, I shivered.

    Soon my failures would be exposed for all the universe to see.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    ¡°75¡­76¡­77¡­78¡±

    Isabella felt the tension rise as they got closer and closer to the so-called Graveyard. The men and women behind her shuffled nervously, as if sensing something they couldn''t comprehend. Isabella felt the same, but clearer. She was an Erduk after all. The spidery fingers of death reached out from a place ahead. A place they were heading straight towards.

    ¡°79¡­80¡­81¡­82.¡±

    Isabella set her back straight and held her head high. A leader must inspire confidence in their followers.

    ¡°83¡­stand by¡­¡±

    The bridge was absolutely silent, with even the normal clicks and whirls somehow silenced.

    ¡°initiating half jump¡­¡±

    The ship disappeared into a tunnel of stars.

    ¡°83.5¡­arrived.¡±

    Before them stretched a horror defying description. For as long as the eye could see, as long as the ship could sense, corpses populated the void. The corpses were of every size and shape imaginable. The smallest of them were multiple times larger than the biggest humans, boasting dozens of flexible tentacles each. The biggest of them loomed in the middle of the corpse patch like a mountain in a plain. Large enough to devour stars, even in its death the creator loomed large.

    The presence of so much dead pressed down on them like a physical presence. Some fell to their knees crying out in agony. Others maintained their footing, faces pale. Isabella alone maintained her outer calm. But, on the inside she wasn''t so composed.

    ¡°What is this?¡± she whispered.

    They were the remnants. The soulless beings that I created and destroyed in my quest for life. They were the record of my failures over the eons. And they were many.

    Isabella collected herself further, projecting that calming presence over her crew. Slowly but surely they adjusted enough to regain functionality, though they were still pale and shaking.

    They carefully guided the ship through the corpses, collecting samples and pictures.

    One of the pale scientist walked shakily up to Isabella, visibly stabilizing as he approached,

    ¡°Milady, we found something.¡±

    ¡°What have you found?¡±

    The scientist waved a hand, pulling up intricate diagrams in the form of a hologram.

    ¡°Well, we have managed to divide the dead in distinct species and¨C¡±

    ¡°How many?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­we¡¯re still finding more.¡±

    Isabella nodded.

    ¡°Anyways, the thing we wanted to show you is this.¡± he pointed to what looked like a 3 dimensional graph. ¡°That graph represents pretty much every single material composition our civilization can conceive. And here¡± ¡ªhe waved a hand¡ª¡±is the distribution for the sample we collected.

    Dots appeared, in every possible corner, nearly filling the entire graph.

    ¡°Every single species has a vastly different material composition. It''s like the universe was playing material bingo.¡±

    I chuckled at that image. I suppose I was kind of playing material bingo in those early years. Trying everything in hopes something would stick.

    ¡°And furthermore,¡± the scientist continued, ¡°We¡¯re still in the early stages but we can already tell all of these organisms are vastly more complicated than us.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®complicated¡¯?¡± Isabella questioned.

    ¡°Well most of them possess physical forms vastly stronger than ours, strong enough to walk the void of space. And their minds¡± ¡ªhe shuddered¡ª ¡°they make us look like dumb animals.¡±

    Another scientist rushed up to the bridge, panting but triumphant.

    ¡°Alex!¡± he yelled at the first scientist, ¡°We found some of their tech!¡±

    The first scientist didn''t even spare Isabella a glance as he immediately sprinted towards the lab, nearly hitting the second scientist on the stairs.

    Isabella chuckled amusedly as they vanished. Scientists. All the same.

    Then frowning, she turned back to the corpse field, pondering the revelations she¡¯d just been handed.

    In truth, most of the failures were indeed vastly superior to humanity in both mind and body, but none held any spirituality. They were essentially biological robots. Humanity was different. They were alive.

    They continued through the graveyard, each mile bringing new corpses and new discoveries.

    Isabella wrestled with the flame that was knowledge, struggling to make it illuminate the direction she wanted. Fury¡¯s words came back to her, sometimes the flame only burns.

    But she was Isabella an Erduk and she refused to turn away, refused to return to ignorance.

    Her refusal became clarity and finally, it seemed she had found the question.

    ¡°What created these creatures?¡± she whispered. But then she frowned.

    ¡°No, that''s not the question. What destroyed them?¡±

    Above, the void within me howled with laughter.

    It wanted more.

 36.2 - Truth

    Isabella was walking down a dark tunnel, hundreds of feet under the ground. Her flashlight swiveled, banishing the darkness that dared encroach on her. This place was ancient, nearly as old as civilization itself. And within it, was something even older. The records of the Erduks. Finally, the first vaults came into sight. Helen an Erduk the very first read. Her mother. She stopped in shock. Her mother knew about this place? It had taken some serious digging to discover it. Curiously, she leaned forward and reached for the handle. A small needle pricked her palm

    ¡°Oww!¡± she exclaimed.

    The door retracted seamlessly, revealing a small pile of hard drives and data storage devices. Isabella hesitated, considering removing them, but then looked further down the seemingly endless hall.

    She sighed. For millennia the Erduks had stored their records here. Who was she to change that? She continued down the path, uncovering more and more vaults.

    She shivered at the weight in the air, the echoes of past glory and power. To her senses, every collection was heavy, a reflection of their paths, their ethos. Some were heavier than others. Isabella nearly fell to her knees passing Jausn¡¯s vault, and Adam¡¯s wasn''t much better. Jorhan¡¯s vault seemed to cut her with invisible blades and she examined her now bleeding hand with shock. Such a thing shouldnt be possible, especially by a mere remnant. But these were Erduks, unconcerned with matters of possibility. They did as they wished, merely what was allowed. Further and further the dynasty went, every vault hinting at the greatness its master once wielded. Eventually, the record began to transform, becoming papyrus, then animal skin, then clay tablets. Finally, she reached the end of the hallway. A simple door stood in front of her, worn but maintained. Old but strong, just like the Erduks.

    No vaults dared encroach on the door¡¯s territory. Isabella took a deep breath. She knew what waited behind these doors. The remnants of Angelica an Erduk.

    She sensed that the pressure would be unlike anything before, but she prepared herself nonetheless. Truth awaited behind that door.

    She pushed it open with a grunt, and stepped into the chamber. The pressure hit her like nothing ever before, but she was an Erduk. She grunted, stumbling but successfully resisting it. The chamber was circular, but bare, with torches somehow still burning despite the millenia that had passed. Isabella instinctively switched her flashlight off, relying solely on the flickering torches for light. The chamber was empty except for a single raised dais in the middle. And on top of that dias was¡­ Isabella fell to her knees. It felt like a planet had fallen on her, suppressing her with absolute weight. Snippets of a life long extinguished came to her. Of divine love and heartbreaking betrayal. Of a god-slaying blade and an unbreakable will. She screamed as she felt the brush of death upon her mind. This was not something a mere mortal could understand. The purity, the sheer power, of the vision was not meant for mortals, even Erduks. They belonged to the divine.

    Still, mortal or not, Erduks were a different breed. Gathering every shred of her growing ethos isabella pushed back, shoving back vision of her own purpose. An illuminating knowledge, a growing horror, and an endless field of corpses joined the blade and heartbreak in an incomprehensible dance. The pressure abruptly lessened and Isabella was able to push herself to her feet, wiping blood off her nose.

    And on top of the dias was a corpse.

    I looked away. I couldn''t bear to see her like this.

    I knew what Isabella saw. Hair like spun gold. Sapphire eyes like stars. Even in death she was beautiful, and perfectly preserved. The ethos of establishing a dynasty such as the Erduks was not to be underestimated. Honestly, if she was still alive it likely would have counted as a creation worthy of ascension.

    I felt Isabella flinch away from the blade clenched in her hand, the blade Adam had hidden there so long ago.

    It became overwhelming, the memories surging within me. The emotions running wild. I couldn''t take it. I fled. I looked away.

    I cried, and the void within laughed.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    Isabella left Angelica¡¯s tomb. She looked terrified.

    I wondered if that flame would be the one to burn her.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    It was the dead of night, the stars shining overhead in a maddening kaleidoscope of divinity and madness. Isabella¡¯s fist struck the door with a resounding thud.

    Then again, and again, and again.

    Finally, after several minutes of knocking, the door opened.

    ¡°What the hell''s your problem?¡± he grumbled out, still half asleep.

    ¡°Fury, we need to talk.¡±

    He squinted at her, as if trying to place her face. Then he popped awake as if given a shot of adrenaline.

    ¡°Isabella, what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    He took in her exhaustion and nervous fidgeting. ¡°Come in.¡±

    The room was the same as before, which is to say an absolute mess.

    ¡°Ughh¡­ I need a beer.¡± Fury mumbled, going for the fridge stuffed in the back.

    He walked back and plopped back into his chair, beer in hand. Before he could drink it, Isabella grabbed it, and chugged the whole thing. Fury watches in undisguised shock.

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    ¡°Lass, are you ok?¡±

    Isabella just continued to drink.

    He sighed, ¡° I suppose you saw the graveyard. I warned you, girl. I warned you.¡±

    He sighed again, looking deeply ashamed, ¡°Now, you¡¯re just like me. What have I done?¡±

    Isabella finished the beer, and grimacing at the taste, leaned across the small table to slap Fury in the face.

    ¡°An oversized graveyard isn''t enough to burn me.¡±

    I almost laughed at the expression on Fury''s face. The absolute confusion was a sight to behold.

    ¡°What¡­What was that for?¡±

    Isabella, tilted her head up, looking down on him condescendingly, ¡°For thinking anything you could do could burn me.¡±

    Fury couldn''t take it anymore, he burst out laughing uncontrollably, wheezing and choking. Isabella soon joined in, a tinge of madness staining both their laughs.

    Finally, they calmed down, and Fury turned back to Isabella,

    ¡°So, why did you want to see me?¡±

    Isabella¡¯s eyes took on a far out quality. ¡°I saw the graveyard.¡±

    Fury just nodded.

    ¡°It was horrible,¡± she whispered, ¡°but that''s not what I want to talk about.¡±

    She took a deep breath and continued.

    ¡°I left that place with a question. ¡®What did this?¡¯ and last month, I found my answer.

    Fury froze. ¡°You did?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I did.¡± Isabella whispered back, as if it could stop me from hearing. The next moment, she put up one of the most intricate anti-scurrying setups I''ve ever seen. I¡¯d watched her create it, forging it personally with the most advanced technology in the cosmos. I think she was hoping to restrict even my view. Futile. Nothing less than a divine creation can restrict my view.

    Fury looked around in wonder, perhaps sensing how advanced the setup was.

    ¡°Is this¨C¡±

    ¡°Focus , Fury.¡±

    He took a deep breath, ¡°ok, but first, why are you telling me?¡±

    Isabella hesitated, ¡°I¡­I don''t really know. This has been burning away at me for a month. I suppose you were right. Ignorance truly is bliss. But I couldn''t just live in ignorance. So I seized the flame of knowledge. And it burns.¡±

    She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered.

    ¡°Remember when I first came here, how mad I got at you?¡±

    Fury snorted, ¡°I''m still finding shards of that glass bottle.¡±

    Isabella ignored him, ¡°it was fear. You¡¯re what I fear. The fear that I will one day be unable to carry the weight of my knowledge. That I will hide from it. That thought terrifies me.¡±

    Her voice dropped to a low whisper, ¡°And I can feel it happening.¡±

    Then, with a sudden jolt, she sat straight up, as if fighting waves of drowsiness.

    ¡°I just need to let it out. To tell someone, to spread the flame, make it a little less unbearable.¡± her sapphire eyes met his crimson orbs, ¡°Will you help me?¡± she pleaded.

    Fury reeled back, for a second seeming to retreat. He had borne enough for a lifetime, he was already broken. Why did the world ask for more of him?

    Then he looked at the shivering Isabella, on the verge of breaking as he once had. Could he let somebody else descend into his madness? He already knew the answer. He resisted it, but the man he once was could not be denied.

    ¡°I,¡± he licked his lips nervously, squeezing his eyes shut, then he abruptly folded, ¡°Yes¡± he sighed, slumping over, ¡°I will help you.¡±

    It''s funny how humans can reach out of their brokenness to help other broken people. Strange, and yet glorious all the same.

    She looked at him in undisguised gratefulness, and without further ado launched into her story.

    ¡°The Erduks are ancient, as old as civilization itself and we have a comprehensive set of records spanning all the way to the founder of our dynasty. When I saw the graveyard, it reminded me of certain stories of the founder.¡±

    ¡°What stories?¡± Fury questioned.

    ¡°Well¡­stories of a love affair between the founder and¡­somebody. Somebody powerful. And of the end of the affair. Something about genocide on a incomprehensible scale and a¡­fight. One that the founder lost.¡±

    ¡°Who is somebody?¡±

    Isabella hesitated, then whispered, ¡°God.¡±

    Fury stared. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, I am. And the records confirmed it. I ventured into them. It was terrifying. Echoes of past glory and purpose press down like a mountain. Honestly, I doubt anyone not a true Erduk could walk that tunnel. At the end, there was a door.¡± Isabella swallowed.

    ¡°I opened the door, and walked into the room. There was a raised dais at the center. The pressure forced me to my knees. The only thing that saved me was the memory of the graveyard. I managed to get back up. Then I saw her. She was beautiful, Fury. More beautiful than anything I can imagine. And looking at her hurt. Like staring straight at the sun.¡±

    Indeed she was. My heart aches to smile one more time.

    Isabella stopped to take a swig of the beer Fury supplied.

    ¡°She was holding a sword.¡± Isabella shivered, ¡°Just looking at the blade nearly killed me.¡±

    She took another swig. ¡°I found her records, and within I found the answer.¡±

    This time she chugged the remaining bottle.

    ¡°It was God.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It was God. God is lonely, so after the creation of the universe he set upon a journey to create life. He created countless species and whenever they failed him, he wiped them from existence. My ancestor fell in love with him, and he with her. When she discovered what he had done, realized what he could do, she tried to kill him.¡±

    ¡°Kill God?! How?!¡±

    ¡°That blade I saw. It was meant to kill him. She failed of course, but she passed the mission on.¡±

    Isabella chuckled, ¡°That¡¯s the purpose of my line. To kill God and protect humanity.¡±

    That''s silly of course. No mortal could harm me, even with that blade, and even so I meant humanity no harm. They were my prized creations!

    The void within laughed.

    ¡°That''s¡­insane. Are you sure it''s real?¡±

    Isabella nodded, ¡°yeah. It wasn''t mere writing. You could somehow¡­ feel it. Like you were there. In fact¡­¡±

    Her face scrunched up in concentration and she reached out to tap Fury¡¯s forehead. He instantly collapsed, overwhelmed by ancient glory.

    Isabella walked over and helped him back onto his stool.

    ¡°He¡¯s watching.¡± Fury half-whispered, half-gasped.

    ¡°Yes, he is.¡±

    That sat in silence for a while, struggling to grasp the sheer scale of that revelation.

    Isabella was the one to break it, ¡°And there¡¯s something else too.¡±

    ¡°Oh no.¡±

    Isabella licked her lips, glancing nervously at the ceiling as if she could right through it.

    ¡°...nevermind.¡±

    She was hiding something from me, but I didn''t mind. She could have her secrets.

    Fury spoke, ¡°So, what do we do?¡±

    Isabella buried her head in her hands,

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

 36.3 - The Voice of the Heavens

    Isabella and Fury, peaked the hill and looked down upon the lush verdant valley.

    It was the very same valley I had once lived in with Angelica, and I had protected it, ensuring its untouched state.

    They made their way to the center of the empty valley carefully. Fury looked like a new man, standing straight even as he fought his growing terror. Isabella was muttering quietly underneath her breath, navigating them to the center of the valley. The small shack where we had once lived was long gone, but the spot remained sacred to me.

    Isabella sat down and patted the ground beside her. Fury plopped down beside her.

    ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea?¡± Fury questioned nervously.

    ¡°I, no, we need to know. Can¡¯t you feel it burning you up?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­but it might be better to just pretend it never happened.¡±

    ¡°Fury,¡± she sighed, putting a hand on his, ¡°There¡¯s no going back, no ignorance. Only uncertainty. We can only go forward.¡±

    ¡°But do we need to?¡±

    ¡°Some things can only be seen with our own two eyes. This is one of them.¡±

    Sapphire met crimson and crimson yielded.

    ¡°Alright, let''s get this over with.¡±

    Isabella took a deep breath and looked up. She tried to pierce the veils surrounding me, but she was no Jausn. Still, she didn''t need to see me to call out to me.

    ¡°God. Or whatever you are. We need to talk.¡±

    I considered it. I was feeling reminiscent, watching them stride the middle of the valley. And I was so lonely. The last person I had talked to was Jausn, and that didn''t end well.

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    Below, Fury questioned Isabella, ¡°Are you sure he will respond?¡±

    Isabella only tried again, ¡°God. We need to talk.¡±

    I made my decision.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    They both jumped, wincing at the pressure, even as restrained as it was.

    Isabella managed to gather her wits first, ¡°What are you?¡±

    ¡°I am called God. I created this universe.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    I smiled, and although I had no body, they could still feel the sentiment, ¡°Ascend and I shall teach you.¡±

    ¡°Ascend?¡±

    ¡°Become divine.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    I chuckled, a sound that rolled through the valley like thunder. ¡°That¡¯s for you to discover.¡±

    Isabella paused, struggling to remember what they had come for. Fury, surprisingly, filled in the gap.

    ¡°W¡­why?¡± He managed to stutter out.

    A vague question, but I understood his meaning.

    ¡°Because they were fake. Caricatures. Soulless. Failures.¡±

    Visions of the ancient past pressed down on as they struggled to remain conscious.

    ¡°Are we¡­are we the same¡­ Failures?¡± Isabella choked out.

    I considered lying to them. I had suffered the consequences of truth once before. But I was so tired. The void within roared.

    ¡°That remains to be seen. You are the greatest so far, yet none have ascended yet.¡±

    I grew tired of the one sided conversation.

    ¡°You would¡­destroy us.¡±

    I considered it. Humanity held a special place in my heart. But I would stop at nothing to see the void within filled.

    ¡°YES.¡±

    They lost consciousness.

    I sighed. More failures.

    ¡ª--------------------------

    When they woke, I was gone.

    Isabella crawled over to Fury, trying to shake him awake. She nearly cried in relief when he sat up groggily.

    ¡°It''s all real,¡± he said in wonder.

    Isabella was silent.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Fury questioned, ¡°Do we tell everyone?¡±

    Isabella waved a hand dismissively, ¡°Nobody would believe us.¡±

    ¡°So what do we do?¡±

    She looked into the sky, and deep within her eyes, I saw madness.

    Ignorance truly is bliss.

    She looked back at Fury and he flinched back at what he saw.

    ¡°We prepare.¡±

 37 - Existence

    So few ever bother to truly open their eyes and see. We live in a world that defies description, one that defies imagination.  I once read a book, written by a long forgotten historian, that truly stopped to appreciate the absurdity of it all. In its face, we are nothing. It''s a truth most ignore, narrowing their vision until it''s gone. But for those that keep their eyes open, they must learn to live with it. When one truly takes in the scope of existence, everything else fades, becoming meaningless. And yet, nothing and infinity are two sides of the same coin. Within the nothingness is everything. So it stands, when nothing matters, all that truly counts is what you say does. In the end, all that matters is choice.

    And I have chosen.

    ¡°...And Jausn left, leaving behind a treasure trove of technology that would eventually lead to our rise to the stars.¡±

    The lecture hall was quiet, filled with bored looking students fidgeting in their seats. Some even had the glazed-out look in their eyes associated with using the neural net.

    Alice sighed, taking in their obvious disinterest. Green eyes sweeping over them with exasperation.

    Sending out a neural message, the student slowly drifted back into the real world.

    ¡°Guys, it''s not that hard to pay attention. This is a really interesting subject if you would just give it a chance.¡±

    They still looked uninterested.

    ¡°I know focusing on the future and all the technologies to come seem more interesting,¡± she continued, ¡°But all that we are, all that we will be is because of what we were.¡±

    She threw her arms out, blond hair flying out, looking up as if she could see through the mighty dome above her, ¡°Look around! At where we are! At what we can do! Isn''t it absurd? History is the story of that absurdity! The trail of miracles that leads to the present!¡±

    A few stirred at her impassioned speech, having the grace to look guilty, but the vast majority just maintained their vacant stares.

    Alice seemed to deflate, ¡°Ok, fine, you don''t need to love it. But this is a graded class and I expect you to at least pay attention. Are we clear?¡±

    That got a few placating nods.

    ¡°Alright, now, are there any questions?¡±

    Nobody moved.

    ¡°Come on, guys. These are the moments that shaped our species. Without Jausn, none of us would even be here!¡±

    Nobody.

    She sighed, ¡°Participation is part of your grade.¡±

    A half hearted hand poked out from the back.

    ¡°Yes, Rosy! What is it?¡±

    Rosy fidgeted with her pink hair as everyone in the hall turned to her.

    ¡°Ummm¡­Professor Drapenet, if Jausn was so important, where did he go? ¡±

    ¡°An excellent question. The answer, unfortunately, is that we do not know. After he left Earth, he was never seen again. In fact, one of the biggest bounties in the explorer guilds is for Jausn¡¯s body or ship. Excellent question, Rosy. Anyone else?¡±

    Another hand popped up.

    ¡°Yes, Rusty?¡±

    ¡°Was Jasun really as good as they say? The records seem to paint him as some sort of god.¡±

    ¡°Also an excellent question, Rusty. While Jausn''s exploits seem absurd to most, we have ample evidence verifying their truth. We don¡¯t quite know how, but Jausn truly was an anomaly. Anyone else?¡±

    No hands came up.

    Alice sighed again, ¡°Very well. Class dismissed.¡±

    The rush to the door made her sigh once more.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    History became a map, visible only to Alice. She traced its mountains and valleys, ups and downs, marveling at their mere existence. She observed the many paths, crossing oceans and plains both. She stepped back and simply soaked in its grandeur, letting it caress her, whispering meaning and truth into her. This place stripped her of the lies she told herself, of the lies others told themselves. Here she was nothing, and that was the truth.

    She was a miracle, a speck of nothing on the road of eternity.

    It was absurd.

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    ¡ª-------------------------------------------

    Alice stared at the blank screen, struggling for words.

    She wanted, no needed, to put this feeling in words. To reach out, show people what she saw.

    She sighed.

    Maybe it was futile.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    Alice exhaled sadly, taking a sip of her coffee. She sat on her balcony, hundreds of floors off the ground, overlooking Gresmek, her home city.

    ¡°Are you ok?¡± her boyfriend, Jacob asked, voiced tinged with concern.

    He was as handsome as always, with pitch black hair, lightly tanned skin and piercing violet eyes. His arms were lined with slim muscles and he wore a plain white cotton shirt with black slacks. Sometimes she wished she had his tan on her fair skin.

    ¡°Yeah¡­It just¡­sometimes it seems to consume me.¡±

    ¡°What consumes you?¡± Jacob questioned, concern rising.

    ¡°Did you know that in the grand scheme of things, we are nothing?¡±

    Jacob, surprised at the sudden change in topic, failed to respond.

    ¡°It''s strange,¡± Alice continued, ¡°We are miracles, our mere existence is the result of odds so far they could reasonably be called 0. And yet we are nothing.¡±

    ¡°Alice,¡± Jacob started, reaching across the table to take her hand, ¡°Are you alright.¡±

    Alice smiled at their intertwined hands, ¡°You¡¯re sweet. I¡¯m fine, just musing. Want to join me.¡±

    Jacob eyed her for another second, as if making sure she was actually ok.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he started, ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re nothing. We exist. That must count for something.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it does,¡± Alice mused, ¡°but not enough to truly be something.¡±

    ¡°Well, I''d like to believe that I am significant.¡±

    ¡°And therein lies the problem. We are taught from a young age that every person is significant. We are taught that we matter. And in order to maintain that delusion, we narrow the scope of our vision, cutting off all that could invalidate our worth.¡±

    Jacob was silent.

    ¡°So few are willing to look. So few are willing to understand. I am a historian, I look and I see. I know. I am nothing. Yet here I am, trying to be someone.¡± She turned back to Jacob, her unease plain to see. ¡°Does that make me a hypocrite? Should I just accept my nonexistence and fade into nothing?¡±

    Jacob observed her a second before getting up and walking over to her.

    ¡°Come on. Let''s go to the couch. Then you can tell me what¡¯s bothering you.¡±

    Alice nodded silently, taking his hand and letting him guide her to the velvet couch. They sat down and put their feet up, Jacob drawing her to his side. The star light streaming through the window painted a calm scene. They sat in silence for a second.

    ¡°Does it ever amaze you?¡± Alice questioned.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Existence. Sometimes I just become aware of my existence. It''s absurd. I don''t know why or how I exist. I just do. Does your existence surprise you?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes.¡± Jacob replied quietly, ¡°I wake up and forget who I am. I forget everything. The world is just me. Everything is me. Sometimes I wish it could be like that all the time.¡±

    ¡°Where you could be something.¡± Alice whispered.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I struggle often with how to live. The universe is so insane. Do I match it, become bigger than life itself? Do I hide, deluding myself with my own self-importance? Accept its superiority and fade into its trail? How does one live knowing they are nothing?¡±

    ¡°What if we weren''t nothing?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s absurd.¡±

    ¡°The world is absurd. What¡¯s one more absurdity?¡±

    Alice was silent for a second, digesting that idea.

    ¡°But how could we, normal, unremarkable people, become something? I am a historian. I study those that were something. They tower. Existence itself seems to fall into their shadows, becoming a mere foil to their glory. How could we possibly match that?¡±

    ¡°Do we need to? Could we become something without needing to overshadow something else? Are we not already something?¡±

    ¡°Can we?¡± Alice questioned, snuggling deeper into Jacob¡¯s chest, ¡°I mean, look around us. We don''t even live on the homeworld. We are surrounded by the legacies of dead men, burning within the stars. Aliens existed once, and they have been slaughtered to the last. Technology so advanced, we can casually replicate lost limbs, travel into the hearts of stars, connect to the network of all humanity with a thought and so much more. Can we be something in the face of that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Alice. I don¡¯t know. I believe that it''s not a zero sum game. But because somebody towers doesn''t mean we can¡¯t stand. And even if we couldn''t, must we be something? Can we not just hide in anonymity, enjoying life in that small pocket where we are everything? Is nothingness not freedom?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just know that when I observe the miracle that is history, I am small. I am nothing. What else could I be in the face of all that?¡±

    ¡°Then I will remind you that you are somebody.¡±

    Alice, looked up into Jacob¡¯s blue eyes, and slowly drew him into a gentle kiss.

    ¡°I don''t deserve you¡± she said, idly tracing the line of his jaw, ¡°How could I possibly deserve you, small as I am?¡±

    He caught her hand, leaning into it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that.¡± he commanded, ¡°I¡¯m lucky you give me the time of day. You are my sun. I don''t like when people belittle my sun.¡±

    Alice chuckled, ¡°So commanding!¡± she exclaimed.

    ¡°Are you going to keep belittling my sun?¡± he asked, voice still commanding as he started to tickle her.

    ¡°No! I won''t!¡± Alice half laughed, half yelled.

    ¡°Good.¡± he stopped, leaning back, satisfied.

    ¡°You know, this is why I love you.¡± Alice said, still breathless.

    He snorted, ¡°because I keep you from going off the deep end?¡±

    ¡°Yep. And you make me laugh.¡±

    He chuckled, ¡°you know what else I can do.¡±

    Seeing the evil grin on his face, Alice immediately tried to squirm out of his hold. Alas, It was too late and Jacob swung her over his shoulder and charged towards the bedroom.

    Alice¡¯s laughter echoed throughout the room.

    I¡¯ve always found it interesting how people handle the scope of existence. Most hide.

    But the few that face it?

    They are the most interesting to watch.

 37.2 - Dinner

    The massive portal gate loomed before them, a circular expanse filled with swirling purple plasma.

    ¡°Ready?¡± Jacob asked.

    ¡°Ready.¡± Alice replied.

    Then, as was their tradition, they charged across it, sinking into the glowing energy, hands intertwined, and emerged out the other side.

    They took a moment to stop and laugh, unheeding of the strange looks they received. When they finally managed to get their heads up, they were greeted by a kaleidoscope of multicolor lights lighting up the night. They were standing in a center lane, filled with restaurants and shops, occasionally interspersed with sprawling parks. The streets were packed with happy people, families and couples alike. The Entertainment District, or the ET as it was called, was actually a floating island, kept in the sky through massive anti-gravity arrays. It was the de-facto center for restaurants, clubs, stores, and similar establishments.

    ¡°Come on, Alice! We¡¯re going to miss our reservation!¡±

    ¡°Ok! Ok!¡± Alice replied, still struggling to catch her breath, ¡°Lead the way.¡±

    When they finally arrived, they were both panting and laughing.

    ¡°Do you have any reservations here?¡± the server at the front desk questioned.

    Jacob took a second to catch his breath. ¡°Yes. Table for 2 for Jacob.¡±

    The man took a second to check before motioning for them to follow him.

    He led them to a private room with a table by the window, and Alice gasped. The window overlooked the entire city, a mile below. From up there the city looked small, despite the immense proportions of the skyscrapers.

    They took seats across from each other.

    ¡°Jacob, how did you get such a good table?¡±

    He looked back at her and smiled, ¡°Anything for you, my love.¡±

    She rolled her eyes, ¡°Didn''t answer the question.¡±

    He smirked, ¡°Not only a pretty face, huh.¡±

    ¡°Jacob!¡±

    ¡°Ok! Ok!¡± he laughed, ¡°I have a friend that works here.¡±

    ¡°Huh. That would do it.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Soon they had slipped back into the flow of conversation, bantering and laughing. The food kept coming, sourced from all over the known universe. Sararish cream, heated in a red dwarf. Jarsen chicken, roasted in the core of a dying planet. Berek fawn, cooled in liquid nitrogen. One after the other, exotic dishes rushed in, providing a backdrop to the conversation.

    Eventually, the food began to dwindle, noting the fullness of their customers.

    Alice sighed, leaning back, ¡°That was delicious. Thank you, Jacob, for finding this place.¡±

    He smiled, somewhat nervously, ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet.¡±

    She squinted at him, ¡°you ok?¡±

    He laughed nervously, ¡°Yeah just kinda hot.¡±

    She leered at him, leaning across the table to whisper, ¡°You know what else is hot?¡±

    He couldn''t take it. He spat out the water he was drinking and started laughing uncontrollably.

    Alice sat back and smiled smugly.

    Jacob finally managed to calm down. ¡°I should never have doubted,¡± he said, half to himself.

    ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, nothing.¡±

    ¡°Then let''s go! I want to go to Central Park!¡±

    ¡°Anything for you, my love¡±

    Alice quickly got up and grabbed her stuff. She was walking to the door when a voice stopped her.

    ¡°Alice.¡±

    She stopped and turned around. ¡°Wha-.¡±

    She froze.

    Jacob, kneeling before her, was presenting her a ring. It was an archaic tradition, one few would understand. Jacob must have dug deep to find it.

    ¡°Alice,¡± he repeated, ¡°I love you. More than you can know. I have been deliberating whether this was the right choice, but in the moment I see. I never should have hesitated.¡±

    The lights seemed to dim.

    ¡°You are my light, my fire, my heart and so much more.¡± he continued, ¡°So I beg of you, please, join me. Together we can be something. Together we can be nothing. Together we can be everything. Will you make me the happiest man in the universe, and marry me?¡±

    Alice was still frozen, her emotions a confused mess.

    She wanted to marry him more than anything, but how could she? She was nothing. He deserved better. Tears began to gather in her eyes, and not the happy type.

    Jacob noticed immediately, and rushed to his feet to stabilize her.

    ¡°Alice, are you ok?¡±

    ¡°I want to, Jacob. I want to marry you so bad. I love you so much. But I am nothing. You deserve better. How could I claim you?¡±

    ¡°Alice, where are you getting this? You are everything to me! Must you be something to everyone?¡±

    ¡°Every time I see the grand map of history,¡± she whispered, ¡°I am reminded anew, I am nothing.¡±

    Jacob looked at her with worry, ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was this serious¡± he muttered underneath his breath.

    Then, looking back at her, he made a decision, ¡°...Let''s go home.¡±

    She was silent the whole trip back, the occasional tear rolling down her cheek. She didn¡¯t even respond at the portal, remaining silent as they crossed it.

    When they reached home, he helped her get ready for bed, changing her clothes and brushing her hair.

    As they finally slipped into bed, Jacob pulled her close against him. She resisted for a second before giving in, turning to putty in his hands. She cried silently into his chest as he gently rocked her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Eventually, she drifted off, tear streaked face peaceful in sleep. Jacob sighed.

    There was a lot of work to do.

 37.3 - To Fly

    ¡°Alice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my love.¡±

    ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    Alice frowned, ¡°About what? The proposal?¡±

    She began to visibly shrink back. It had only been a few days and bringing it up still led to panic. Jacob hurriedly corrected her,  ¡°No, no. That can wait until after this. Come with me.¡±

    Jacob offered Alice a hand off the couch and fetched her coat. Together they left their small apartment and stepped on the hover lift, feeling the weightlessness as it began to fall.

    ¡°So, what do you want to talk to me about?¡±

    Jacob smiled at her, ¡°Patience, my love.¡±

    Alice grumbled, ¡°At least tell me where we¡¯re going?¡±

    Jacob laughed, ¡°Fine. We¡¯re going to central park.¡±

    The lift hit the bottom, having traversed hundreds of floors in the time of that brief discussion.

    Jacob led Alice through the brightly lit streets, both marveling at the sights around them.

    Sky scrapers shot into the air, seemingly straining to reach the heavens above. Hover cars flew to and around them like an endless swarm of bugs. At the ground level, neon lights lit up the streets, illuminating the people going to and fro. Holograms flickered in and out of existence, showcasing ads, videos and maps. It was a place in endless fluctuation, a city as stable as the planet it was on, and yet as chaotic as an exploding star.

    Alice took it in, seeming to enjoy its magnitude, seeming to shrink in its presence. Jacob watched her worriedly.

    Finally, after half an hour of walking, helped along with some portal gates, they arrived at the Central Park, nust outside the bounds of the city. No matter how many times they had come, they couldn''t help but gape.

    It was not merely a park, but a mini world. It was thousands of square miles and it contained dozens of unique biomes in it, all brimming with unique animals. One could spend a lifetime exploring it, and still not even get close.

    Jacob led them into the mountainous region, taking a teleporter to shorten the distance.

    ¡°We¡¯re not climbing that, are we?¡± Alice questioned, visibly nervous.

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°Jacob!¡±

    ¡°No, we''re not climbing that.¡±

    He walked over to a nearby kiosk, and came back with a small parcel covered in canvas, about the size of a breadloaf. With a shake, it unfolds to reveal its full form, a massive glider about 20 feet in wingspan.

    Jacob turned to Alice with a massive grin, ¡°we¡¯re gonna fly.¡±

    Alice just stared in shock, ¡°Are you serious!?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Jacob turned, patting the glider, ¡°this bad boy can take us anywhere. I thought we¡¯d take a flight.¡±

    Alice looked at him in mute shock, but eventually agreed to get in the glider.

    ¡°Alright, on three. One¡­ TwoThree!¡±

    Alice¡¯s screaming complemented Jacob¡¯s wild laughter, the rush of wind blocked off by energy shields. Both soon quieted as they saw the sight below them. Entire biomes stretched out below them, their inhabitants mere ants. Desserts, mountains, forests, and plains all whizzed by, traversed effortlessly.

    Finally, Jacob steered the glider back to the mountain they started at, setting a course to a hidden alcove, a few hundred feet below the peak.

    ¡°Jacob,¡± Alice started nervously, ¡°Why are we heading right at the mountain? Jacob? Jacob!¡±

    She let out a scream as the glider abruptly vanished, condescending back to its original form, hundreds of feet from the alcove. Jacob twisted in the air, reaching out to grab Alice. He took her into her arms, unheading her screaming. They stuck the ground silently, with Jacob activating augmentations to nullify their kinetic energy. In the end, they stood in the alcove, Alice in Jacob¡¯s arms.

    ¡°What?! What the hell was that?! How are we alive?! Wait¡­¡±

    She turned to look at him, realizing dawning, ¡°Those are not civilian augs¡­¡±

    Jacob sighed, setting Alice down, ¡°No, they are not.¡±

    ¡°Jacob, what''s going on? I thought this was about the¡­ proposal.¡±

    He sighed, ¡°it is. But it¡¯s also about more. There¡¯s¡­something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago.¡±

    He walked to the edge of the alcove, sitting down and dragging his legs over the edge. He motioned for her to join him. For a while, they just sat, overlooking the vast park and all the life within it. The sun slowly fell below the horizon, bringing out the stars.

    Finally, Jacob broke the silence.

    ¡°What you said¡­ about being nothing¡­ It¡¯s true.¡±

    Alice¡¯s head snapped to him.

    ¡°We are all nothing. I had hoped that I could spare you the burden of that truth, but alas, the women I fell in love with could never do anything but see the truth.¡±

    He smiled at her, ¡°But being nothing does not mean what you think it does.¡±

    He abruptly got to his feet, and started to pace nervously.

    ¡°I lied, Alice. I am not from Jarsen. I am from earth, born the direct heir of one of the high military dynasties.¡±

    He looked back at her, wincing at the shock and hurt on her face.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you because I wanted to forget. I wanted out.¡±

    He sighed ¡°I was the best.¡± he started, somewhat wistfully, ¡°the best of the best. The Silver Streak, they called me, because I never stopped. I fought and fought and fought, an eternal blur.¡±

    ¡°But¡± Alice started, ¡°isn''t war banned by edict of the council?¡±

    Jacob chuckled darkly, ¡°The council is weakening. Soon it will break. The laws that once protected us are on their last legs. The dawn of a new age is upon us. But that''s not our problem. Well, it used to be mine. But no longer.¡±

    He held up a hand, examining it as if trying to determine if it was real, ¡°You know, robots make up most of the troops. But they cannot command. They lack¡­something. So the human champions lead. I had a whole unit. They called me¡­captain. And I was so goddamn proud of them. The battles weren''t even important. Just small battles on the surface of newly discovered planets, testing the patience of the council.¡±

    He came back to sit beside Alice, slumping over as he did.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Of course, that was relative. There were still thousands of robots and hundreds of people.¡±

    He looked at his hands again, ¡°I have seen rivers of blood. I have seen the spark fade from a man¡¯s eyes. Yet I fought on. I had a purpose. I was somebody.¡± he chuckled darkly, ¡°how wrong I was.¡±

    He got up and went back to pacing. ¡°Then it all went to shit. It was supposed to be a routine mission. Simple.¡± ¡ªanother dark chuckle¡ª ¡°They were waiting for us, equipped with not one, but several combatants that exceeded me, the supposed peak.¡±

    He stopped pacing, ¡°I watched my men die that day.¡± he whispered, ¡°Slaughtered to the last man. My brothers in arms. The men I swore I would die beside someday. And I ran. Ever a silver streak. They hit me with a neutron bomb, but I activated an experimental feature of my armor. I survived but I was seriously injured.¡±

    He spat, ¡°Arrogant bastards didn''t even confirm my death.¡±

    Then, he sighed, the energy seeming to drain out of him, ¡°It took me months to recover enough to leave that planet. I rushed back to Earth with vengeance. And when I came back, I found out I had been replaced. They even gave the new captain my name The Silver Streak. Nobody gave a shit. Anyone who would have cared was already dead.¡±

    He went back to sit on the ledge, ¡°I was nothing,¡± he whispered, ¡°just another easily replaceable soldier. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. So I left. Left and never looked back.¡±

    He finally turned to look up at Alice, ¡°Believe me, I know how meaningless this shit all is. I know how little a single life matters. The first few years I was aimless, wandering the cosmos, searching for meaning. I wanted so desperately to be something.¡±

    He looked at Alice, love clear in his eyes, ¡°Then one day, I met someone. Someone special. She was a bit spacy. And she was just as lost as I was, even if she didn''t know it. She was beautiful, kind, and smart. But what made me truly love her was her courage. I was wandering the cosmos, trying to cast aside the reality of my nothingness. Trying to forget. Trying to narrow my vision. She was the opposite, always trying to open her eyes wider. Trying to see and learn more no matter how crushing it was. She sought truth, regardless of the pain. And I fell in love with her for it.¡±

    He put a finger under Alice¡¯s chin, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. There were tears in both of their eyes.

    ¡°Let me teach you what you taught me. Look up at the heavens, see the blackness between stars. What do you see?¡±

    ¡°I see¡­nothing.¡±

    ¡°And yet¡­behind that veil of blackness could be anything. When they replaced me, they stripped me of my name, giving it to another. But what I didn¡¯t see at the time, is that that name was a barrier, a star blocking the void beyond. When it was stripped of me the void beyond, the truth of my nothingness, battered me. But you showed me the power of opening my eyes. So I looked deeper. And in the void of nothingness, I saw¡­everything. I saw a truth beyond the truth of nothing. A truth that you too see, but deny. Those that are nothing, can be anything. To be nothing is to be free.¡±

    She stared at him blankly.

    He smiled up at the stars, eyes calm, ¡°Maybe it was wrong to abandon my people. Maybe it was wrong to run away. Maybe I am cursed for the lives I have reaped. But in the end, It¡¯s not about good or bad. Not about right or wrong. Not about worthiness or deservedness. There is no good or bad, no right or wrong. In the end, there is only choice. And choice is everything.¡±

    Alice shivered, ¡°Jacob¡­ that''s crazy.¡±

    He smiled at her, ¡°The world is full of crazy people. What¡¯s another nutjob? Life goes on, love. No matter what happens.¡±

    Alice¡¯s eyes began to tear, and soon she was sobbing into Jacob¡¯s chest.

    ¡°I..hic¡­don''t deserve you! You relieved all¡­hic¡­that just to¡­hic¡­help me!¡±

    Jacob held her tight, ¡°Did you not hear the part about me having walked through rivers of blood?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­hic¡­care.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    She pulled away to glare at him with tear stained eyes, ¡°My. Choice.¡±

    He grinned at her fury, pulling her close until he sobs subsided. Then she pulled back and slapped him.

    ¡°Why the hell didn''t you tell me earlier!?¡±

    Jacob just stared at her in absolute shock, before breaking into uncontrollable laughter. Alice soon joined in, unable to resist.

    When they finally calmed down, Jacob pulled an inflatable bed from his pocket, growing it to full size with a tap of a button. He angled it so they could see the stars above. They got into the beg, snuggling up to each other, Jacob¡¯s arm around Alice.

    He turned to her amethyst eyes alight in the starlight.

    ¡°I want you to look at the void between stars. Look further and deeper than you ever have. Look, and see everything. Look and understand what you can be. Look, and choose.¡±

    She stared back, soft green eyes gleaming like the origin of life.

    ¡°I love you, Jacob.¡±

    ¡°I love you more.¡±

    ¡°No, I love you more!¡±

    ¡°I love you even more!¡±

    ¡°Oh, now you¡¯ve done it.¡±

    Alice rolled on top of Jacob, pinning his arms to the bed.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he protested, ¡°You¡¯re supposed to watch the void of stars and be enlightened!¡±

    She looked at him with hungry eyes, ¡°I can think of other things to do.¡±

    He blushed. ¡°But-¡±

    She shut him up with a kiss.

    ¡ª----------------------------

    It''s a truth few can see. When one looks deep enough, the laws and morals they uphold become meaningless.

    When all meaning has been stripped, all that matters is what you ascribe meaning to.

    All that matters is what you choose.

    I should know.

    I once chose.

    And I have regretted ever since.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    Alice walked down the aisle, white wedding dress waving in the breeze. There were people all around her, crowding the aisles to either side of her. But only one thing mattered to her.

    Jacob stared at her in mute shock, violet eyes wide. Those eyes tracked her as she made her way to the dias.

    He reached out and took her hand once she was close enough, the gesture sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She felt¡­whole.

    They faced each other, swirling violet meeting vivid green, as the priest began the ceremony in the background.

    Neither particularly cared what he was saying, too busy basking in each other''s presence.

    Finally, the priest turned to them for the vows, an ancient tradition. It took a few tries but he eventually got the starstruck couples attention.

    Jacob went through the long vows, asserting his loyalty and love. His devotion and care.

    They were beautiful, ancient, and Alice found tears coming to her eyes as joy overwhelmed her.

    This was it, she was actually doing it.

    Finally, Jacob uttered the last word and slipped a delicate ring onto her finger.

    And it was her turn.

    The world spun. Could she really do it? Could she become something?

    Her eyes wandered the expectant crowd finding friends and family alike.

    Was she good enough?

    Her eyes found Jacob¡¯s and the world froze.

    His words came back to her, an intricate story of a man broken. A man lost. And a man found.

    She was all nothing, yes, but she could be anything.

    All she had to do was choose.

    The priest whispered the vows in her ears again, reminding her.

    But the vows were not important.

    In the end, only one thing mattered.

    The world snapped back in time, revealing an expectant silence.

    Alice took a deep breath and looked into Jacob''s eyes.

    ¡°I¡­choose.¡±

    His mouth split into a smile that seemed larger than his face could contain. And indeed he could not contain himself.

    He threw his arms around her, hugging her fiercely.

    When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes, ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you,¡± he whispered, ¡°I know how hard it is.¡±

    The priest, while understandably confused, continued on with the ceremony.

    ¡°And, now, I declare you husband and wife.¡±

    Alice and Jacob met in a passionate kiss, and the world exploded into applause.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    Alice¡¯s finger blurred over the keys, words appearing on the screen with almost unbelievable speed.

    She had chosen and she finally knew.

    There were others out there, as lost as she once was.

    Maybe she could help them.

    After all, this too, was her choice.

    And it could become others.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    The story of Alice and Jacob is not unique. Yet it makes them no less impressive.

    The world is vast and it is blinding. Those that gaze upon it either break, or narrow their vision. Those that can reconcile the meaningless of their existence with the fact of their existence are few and far between.

    All is right. All is wrong. All is.

    There are as many ways to live as there are stars in the sky.

    And all are equally pointless.

    So in the end, when all is said and done.

    The only thing that matters.

    Is what one chooses.

    I wonder.

    Did I choose right?

 38 - Nero

    In the end, the balance of power became too unstable. The hegemons held access to theoretically unlimited resources, and the council could no longer keep up. It ended in a single day. The sky burned over the homeworld, and out of the flames, HE walked. Nero Baraton, the last emperor. He was limitless, just like me, and neither the crumbling council, nor the warring hegemons could stop him. Out of the ashes of a once free world, he forged the final empire, and became something more than human. I have read his journals, been in his mind. He sought order above all, to impose, to become, law greater than a mere piece of paper. He loved the people, I think, no matter the monster he became in the end. They were like his children, and he wanted the best for the greatest amount of them, no matter the cost. That was his downfall. Divinity is separation from the affairs of mortals. And Nero never could let go.

    The sky burned above the once azure skies of the homeworld. Ships flashed through the fire, breaking the atmosphere in their passing. Massive energy blasts, lasers, and countless other planet-breaking weapons crashed into flickering blue shields struggling to hold them off.

    Flame consumed the city, accompanied by the screaming of people burning alive. Only a single dome still stood, flickering amethyst shield somehow holding off the barrage of an entire fleet.

    The once-proud home of the World Council.

    Nero Baraton danced through the flying rubble, twisting and swaying through the flames, rhythmic movement bringing order to the chaos. His shoulder length red hair danced around his face, highlighting his piercing emerald eyes. His youthful face was calm, adorned with a slight smile. His body was seemingly made in the image of ancient gods, with slim muscles perfect proportions. He was otherworldly and in a bubble around him, the world became calm, as if being sucked into his rhythm. He approached the amethyst dome, a spear of order in a sea of chaos.

    The automated turrets, sensing his lone approach even through the haze of death, open fire.

    He danced between them, eyes closed as he seemed to bask in their smooth blue light. He moved faster than any man, even one with emperor-class physical augmentations could. He was an oasis of calm in a world plunged in chaos, a constant variable in a sea of destruction. More and more turrets focused on him as he approached, driving his blurred figure to even greater speeds. The street lit up with blue light, driving back even the angry red of the fire.

    Order had come to the chaos.

    A twist, and he slipped through a gap in the flickering shield. Immediately, every turret on the south side he had entered focused on him. They fired energy bullets with utmost precision, coordinating to cut off every avenue of escape.

    It mattered not. The dance continued.

    Nero slipped through a hole in the wall, and the turrets stopped firing, unwilling to destroy the building they were designed to protect.

    Inside, he was met with rows of robotic defenders, summoned by the automatic defense system. He danced between them, not even brushing their metal exoskeletons, eyes closed. They tried to catch him, but ended up tangling in themselves, forming an intricate sculpture of struggling metal. Nero continued, leaving behind a new work of art.

    Onward he continued, He was like a calm stream, gentle, smooth, and utterly unstoppable.

    Eventually, he stood in front of a massive set of blast doors, meant to take blows from missiles. He waltzed up to them, and with a single blow, shoved them open.

    Behind them cowered the world council.

    Their guards opened fire, these ones true humans, the elite of the elite, master of combat and equipped with emperor-class augmentations.

    It didn¡¯t matter.

    To a normal human, they all turned to blur, each equally terrifying in their might.

    Not even half a minute longer, Nero gently placed the unconscious body of the last guard next to his sleeping comrades. Then, standing up and brushing his hands off, he walked over to the council.

    They cowered before him, shrinking back from his presence.

    He smiled.

    ¡°Hello, my name is Nero Baraton. Pleased to meet you.¡±

    He stretched out a hand.

    Silence befell the council hall, as the counselors stared at the proffered hands.

    Finally, one mustered the courage to ask, ¡°Why¡­why are you doing this?¡±

    Nero titled his head, ¡°have you ever heard of a philosopher king?¡±

    Nobody said anything.

    ¡°It was a conception of a long dead philosopher. A king to lead his people away from the comforting darkness and into the burning light. A man capable of wielding absolute power with absolute purity.¡±

    Booming outside the dome interrupted him, shaking the ground beneath. Nero looked up at the shaking dome.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°This council is doomed. And with the council''s demise, humanity will fracture. Chaos will overtake order and death will become the law of the land.¡±

    He looked back, emerald eyes as deep as an ocean and as placid as stone.

    ¡°I won¡¯t allow that.¡±

    The council shrank back at the will in his eyes. It was determined. It was mighty. It was endless. And it refused to bend.

    He continued with the same calm, ¡°I will drag my people into the light. They may kick and scream but they will see the light. I will make sure of it.¡±

    He didn¡¯t move but his presence seemed to double.

    ¡°So, honored council. Will you bar my path?¡±

    In the face of those eyes, that endless pressure they were powerless to resist.

    He left the dome, his calm seeming to spread to the warzone around them, the attacking ships pulling back and the smoke covering the skies retreating. The counselors followed him, greeted with clear sky.

    He smiled, raising his face to the brilliant sun and opening his arms wise.

    I watched as the sun crowned him in rays of love, acknowledging his new power.

    I watched the end of an era, and the start of a new one.

    I watched the rise of the greatest emperor to ever walk the cosmos.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    Nero was limitless, a being of such unfettered power that the very world warped where he walked, conforming to his image. In his case, it took the form of an aura of calm and order. The world around him was quieted, falling into predictable patterns of being.

    So, when he walked into the chaotic meeting room, it instantly quieted, all eyes drawn towards him. Emerald eyes took it all in.

    ¡°Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. It''s the little emperor himself. Should I bow?¡± a man said mockingly, drawing soft chuckles from the rest. The man was tall, with a skinny frame that made him seem frail. Those with knowledge of his emperor-class augs knew otherwise. He had beady black eyes and equally black eyes contrasting pale skin. Lord Garan, he called himself, though he certainly was no lord in Nero¡¯s eyes.

    He continued speaking, ¡°Did you forget our little¡­deal? In exchange for lending you our forces, we were to be given equal shares of the cosmos. And yet¡­¡± He flicked a hand.

    A hologram manifested, replaying Nero¡¯s conversation with the counselors.

    ¡°Suspicious words, little emperor¡± Garan leered, ¡°I wonder if you still have any intention of keeping your promises?¡±

    Nero looked around, eyes calm.

    The hegemons around him, men and women of immense power, lust and violence stirred angrily at the suggestion of betrayal. They had warred for decades, preparing for this moment. If not for Nero¡¯s passive presence, the room would have likely already erupted into violence, the beginning of a long power struggle. There was no doubt in Nero¡¯s mind.

    They were not fit for the new world he was trying to build.

    ¡°No. I have no intention of keeping my promises.¡±

    There is a moment of silence in the wake of the greatest of revelations. A moment where the world itself holds its breath in anticipation. The release came in the form of Garan¡¯s surprised outburst.

    ¡°What? You would break your word? What happened to ¡®order above all¡¯?¡±

    Nero took a step forward, and the inhabitant of the room shrunk back.

    Meeting Garan¡¯s eyes, he responded. ¡°Indeed. Order above all. And you all are not order. You have no place in this new world. As for breaking my word. It is¡­regrettable, but if I do not descend to hell, who will?¡±

    ¡°And you came here to tell us that.¡±

    Nero laughed, ¡°No, I came here to eliminate you.¡±

    The room bristled with tension, the hegemons preparing for violence. Garan tried a final warning, voice dropping to a deadly quiet, ¡°Are you sure this is the path you want to take?¡±

    Nero smiled. He saw the real reason for offering him such a chance. They were terrified of him.

    ¡°Yes. I am sure.¡±

    Nero¡¯s passive aura was no longer enough to restrain these men in the face of direct threats. He could have flared it, pressed his soul into theirs until they were ripped from their mortal coils. But that was so¡­brutal.

    And if there was one thing that mattered to a Limitless, it was their path.

    They came at him in a storm of weapons, activating custom emperor-class augmentations and striking with all the skill that had won them their exalted positions. It was an attack no human could conceivably survive.

    But a Limitless? That¡¯s another story.

    Nero danced among them, slipping through the gaps like water through cracks. He was as calm as a reflective surface, eyes quietly smiling as the first two hegemons fell to the ground, headless.

    ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this!¡± Garan shouted, ¡°When our men realize what you¡¯ve done, they¡¯ll rebel!¡±

    Nero looked at him with that same calm smile, ¡°Nobody will ever know.¡±

    Another blur, and another two corpses.

    The remaining hegemons grew desperate, activating experimental and incomplete augmentations, and rushing Nero.

    Plasma blades, adamantium armor, electro pulsers, and a thousand other weapons rushed Nero. He flowed around their attacks like a stream around rocks and struck back like a raging river.

    One by one, they fell, the immense power they wielded utterly folding in the face of a greater power. Their fates subsumed by a greater fate.

    Finally, only Nero and Garan remained, alone in a room of corpses.

    Garan was terrified. Nero saw it in his clenched fists, in his slight shivering. But to his credit, he stood strong.

    ¡°Why?¡± were his only words.

    ¡°The cosmos need order. I will be that order.¡±

    ¡°Is this order?¡± he demanded, indicating the room full of corpses.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    No further worlds were needed. Garan charged, facing his death with honor. Nero felt almost¡­sad as Garan¡¯s head came free from his body in an orderly spray of red.

    He stood in a room full of corpses, without a drop of blood on him.

    The sole lord.

    To be honest, he reminded me of Octavian. A conquering king. An emperor in truth. But Octavian had broken in the end.

    As I watched Nero return to his flagship, as serene as a still pond, I knew one thing.

    He would not break.

 38.2 - The Last Empire

    At last unopposed, Nero began to build his empire. The council was completely won over by now, and they worked alongside him to make the transfer of power as orderly as possible.

    It''s so much easier to borrow from an existing framework than create a new one.

    There was resistance, as there always is in the face of change. But Nero personally resolved those issues. Nobody would disobey him straight to his face. Those that continued  behind his back were quietly removed.

    Once, before humanity took to the stars, there would have been uproar at such a takeover. There would have been war, back when the scars of revolution were still visible, and the horror of kings still remembered. But the memory of humanity is a momentary thing, prone to forgetfulness. And the world had become a different place. The citizens had settled into a comfortable apathy, oblivious to all but their own life. After all, the wars on the fringes hadn¡¯t had the chance to spread inward before Nero snuffed it.

    Those that tried to rouse that memory, reignite those fading embers found themselves disappearing.

    The people cheered on his coronation, cheered like the peasant of a long forgotten era. They romanticized the return to old stories. To them, the first emperor of the stars was a momentous occasion, one they were glad to be a part of. Of course it was still too early to win all of them over. A good half were still skeptical, but they reserved their judgment. Only actions would convince them.

    He crowned himself of course, for who else would be worthy of crowning him. His throne was a simple wooden chair, sturdy but unadorned. A hologram of the coronation was projected to every major city in the known cosmos.

    Nero addressed the crowd. Trademark smile adorning his face.

    ¡°People of this young empire, the time has come upon us. For too long have we suffered under the uncertainty of chaos. For too long we have suffered under the chains of lesser law. No longer. On this day, I crown myself emperor. On this day, we beat back the chaos.¡±

    Another figure walked into the hologram, and kneeling before him, presented him with a silver crown on the purple pillow. It was beautiful, a series of unadorned silver loops, perfectly mirrored on all sides. And it was a masterpiece. Nero had forged it for one purpose. Amplification. Using an intricate conception of an emperor''s duty, it took the path of the wearer and projected it onto all land where he was acknowledged as sovereign. It was an artifact second only to god-slayer itself.

    Nero leaned down and picked up the crown.

    ¡°This crown is a symbol of my commitment to my people. I wear it as a reminder of my greatest promise, my divine purpose. There will be order among the stars.¡±

    The silver crown met red hair, and the world seemed to shift. Immediately, the world within Nero¡¯s empire seemed to slow, if only slightly. The world became clearer, simpler. An aura of calm and order suffused the people, guiding their thoughts and strangling their worries. The cosmos seemed to release a collective sigh of relief as a burden they hadn¡¯t even noticed was lifted from them.

    Nero continued.

    ¡°I am Nero Baraton, and I hereby declare myself emperor of the cosmos, keeper of order. I accept all the duties that come with such an exalted status, and I swear to accomplish them to the greatest of my abilities. Let this day be known as the birthday of the Final Empire, for the cosmos will never need another. Let there be order.¡±

    His crown shone with silver light, turning into a miniature star. Brighter and brighter it grew, until the holograms collapsed into showers of silver sparks.

    And so the emperor was crowned.

    ¡ª------------------------

    The empire was calm. The empire was orderly. And the people loved it. Even the original doubters could doubt no longer after seeing the change Nero brought after a mere ten years. The cosmos were reformed anew, saturated in the essence of order.

    One night, Nero gazed out of his palace, taking in the stars. A knock on the door failed to disturb his tranquility.

    ¡°Enter.¡±

    The door opened and Kali Keyber walked in. She had been the former chair of the council, and it showed in the way she walked. High cheekbones and straight black hair worked together with pale skin to make her ice blue eyes piercing. In the council, she was a monster in human skin, the one that inspired fear.

    She had been one of the first to see the order Nero brought and fully throw her lot behind him. Tonight, Kail Keyber, former head of the cosmic council took one look at Nero¡¯s shirtless body and immediately turned bright red. Admittedly, Nero was perfectly sculpted.

    That blush only deepened as Nero turned to her.

    ¡°Kali? What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I¡­uhh. I wanted to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°About?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking¡­why? Why bother with this thankless job?¡±

    ¡°Thankless job?¡± Nero raised an eyebrow.

    She snorted. ¡°I used to be the chair of the council. I know what it''s like to be the top dog. All the demands and nobody gives a shit about you. It''s¡­lonely.¡±

    Nero didn¡¯t answer, simply gazing at the stars as if he had all the time in the world. His crown refracted the light, turning it all a gentle silver-blue before sending it dancing through the shadows. Kali walked beside him, joining him in his contemplation.

    Finally, he spoke, ¡°I was born in the streets.¡±

    Kali immediately turned to him in shock, and I could see the gears turning in her head. How could such a man come from nothing?

    ¡°A small planet, Jarsen they called it, best known for its chicken exports, of all things.¡±

    A shooting star streaked across the sky. Well it was actually a spaceship, but close enough.

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    ¡°I was alone, my parents already dead. Those years were lonely. I was never actually in much danger. Even then, I was special. Smarter, faster, braver. But I still hated it. That edge, not knowing whether you were going to score a jackpot or get beaten up in a back alley.¡±

    He turned to her, smiling. ¡°It''s the uncertainty that kills. The chaos. The agonizing wait. The thousand little deaths.¡±

    He turned back to the stars, taking on a contemplative air. ¡°I suppose it was those years that formed me, but it was always within me. It just needed something to bring it out. In the end, it was simple. I hated the uncertainty, so I decided to eliminate it.¡±

    He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°To most, that would be an absurd statement. But I am different. I am unbound. To be honest, I still don¡¯t entirely know what that means. I suspect there have been others. Perhaps Jausn an Erduk, or maybe Adam an Erduk. But I digress. I¡¯m rambling now.¡±

    He looked back at her, taking into account her transfixed stare. Something made him reach up to brush her cheek. She turned even redder.

    ¡°When I put my mind to something, I cannot be stopped. I ruled those streets with an iron fist. And under that fist, they flourished. As much as men pretend to love choice and freedom, it weighs on them. So I carried that weight for them, made the best choices for them. And weightless, they were finally free.¡±

    He sighed, ¡°I could not keep such a discovery contained. I could not deprive the rest from such comforting order. So, young as I was, I decided. I would bring order to the cosmos. It would be my path. And lo and behold, here we are. Does that answer your question?¡±

    Kali, considered for a second, taking deep breaths to calm her blush. ¡°That''s¡­noble.¡±

    Then, she suddenly asked, ¡°What are we to you? The people, your advisors¡­me.¡±

    Nero smiled gently. ¡°You are my children, in need of my guiding hand.¡±

    ¡°O¡­oh. Really?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my child.¡±

    Kali, left soon after that, cornered her multitude of duties. Nero continued staring at the stars, observing his empire.

    Finally, he sighed, and looked past it.

    ¡°I see you.¡± he said to me.

    I didn¡¯t respond, as was my custom. But I was excited. Jausn may have refused, but I didn''t think Nero would.

    My long wait was almost over.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------

    Nero¡¯s empire eventually passed the threshold of what was possible by mortals. It entered a realm that could only be sustained by Nero¡¯s presence, his path and his aura. And in doing so, It became greater than should have been possible.

    To its citizens, it became a peaceful utopia, a place where they could live their lives out in peace, never experiencing pain or fear.

    Nero reshaped society, not only in law and practice. He remade the culture of humanity, reconstructing its definition in his image. Humanity became more mellow, their ideals shifting away from individuality and towards collectivity, where every man could become a part of a greater whole, shedding their individual burden. That part was slow, as changing values learned over a lifetime is a nigh impossible task. Of course impossible doesn''t matter much to limitless, but even so it was difficult. The greater influence came from new schools, teaching children the exalted values from a young age, molding them to fit into their new society, as every society has done since the beginning of time.

    I will admit, I didn¡¯t like the shift to collectivity. It reminded me too much of the soulless failures. The individuality of humanity is what makes them special, what gives them the potential for ascension. But I was tired. And Nero was so close. The rest of humanity be damned, I would let Nero do whatever he needed to ascend.

    I could not resist the void for much longer.

    As society transformed, a curious phenomenon began to reappear.

    Religion.

    It had largely been discarded with the advent of advanced, god-like, technology and the growing awareness that even if divine beings exist, they had no interest in meddling. Yet to some, the creation of the final empire was a sign. A sign that god had taken pity on them, and sent an avatar to descend and guide them.

    That avatar was naturally Nero.

    The faith¡­elevated him, augmented his limitless nature.

    Faith is a curious phenomena. The beliefs and will of the collective people have an impact on reality, altering it ever so slightly to fit their image. So when they professed Nero a god, his power rose accordingly, forming a type of feedback cycle, where faith strengthened Nero, and that strength attracted more faithful.

    His every action contained more power, and more natural laws folded in the face of his presence. His ascension was on hand, as he transformed from a human into something¡­other. A conception of his path, made physical.

    One day, as he gazed into the stars, he once again addressed me.

    ¡°Why did you create chaos?¡±

    As always, I didn¡¯t answer.

    He looked at me, and frowned.

    ¡°Answer me.¡±

    I reeled back, shocked at another divine presence. Was this it? The moment where I gained my first peer?

    Sadly, reality is not so simple. He had borrowed the power of faith of his people to touch his burgeoning divinity for a brief instant. Still, it was enough to acknowledge him.

    ¡°Chaos is life. Without it the universe is static. Unchanging. A constant existence of perfect equilibrium.¡±

    He nodded thoughtfully, ¡°Is the chaos what stops my ascension?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then what does? I am half-ascended, minuscule step away from becoming a god. And that last step has proven to be an impossible chasm. Why?¡±

    I hesitated. I knew his problem, but it was not my way to meddle in the paths of others. But I was so tired. I no longer cared.

    ¡°It is because of your people. You must let them go.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Divinity is fundamentally a separation. A manifestation of eternal essence in the place of temporary being. A separation of one immortal and mortal aspects. To be divine is to be apart, bound in ones transcendent domain.¡±

    Perhaps that was where I erred. If he had not known, maybe he would have found another way. But I was desperate. And impatient. I should have waited.

    ¡°When ascending to the heavens, mortal connections only act as chains to the earth.¡±

    He considered that, contemplating the implications of my words. A day and a night passed as he remained lost in thought, accompanied only by me and the stars.

    Finally, he came to a conclusion.

    ¡°I will not abandon my children. I will not embrace divinity.¡±

    My heart cracked, the void surging forth. Another had failed!? How?! The limitless were supposed to be the greatest of them! But perhaps that was the problem. Their paths were so heavy they could not be raised to the heavens. I roiled in a confused mess. The void seized me, and although I could resist it, I wasn''t sure I wanted to anymore. Slowly, I let my grip go, watching in morbid fascination as new ideas appeared in my head. Death. Destruction. Another attempt. Then his voice stopped me.

    ¡°But I will not give in. There are as many paths to transcendence as there are stars in the universe. If my people are chains keeping me from a higher existence, then so be it. I will seize those chains and haul them to transcendence alongside me.¡±

    The void retreated in the face of his conviction, which rippled out with visible effect, altering natural laws to fit his new path.

    An empire of transcendants? It was absurd, an impossible thought, an impossible path. And yet I could help but admire that conviction. That was the conviction required for transcendence, no matter how difficult the path. It would take an absurd amount of power, enough to ascend alone a billion times over. But there was always a way, if only Nero could find it.

    I wondered what would become of such an ascension. Would they be a collective god? Or something else? Something I had never seen before. Either way the possibilities exited me.

    A nation of transcendants.

    Impossible, and yet.

    Not.

 38.3 - Ascension

    A century passed in the blink of an eye. To mortals, this was a lifetime, an expanse of time great enough to encompass the entirety of their being.

    To a limitless, time was not nearly enough to encompass them.

    The empire had gone through tremendous changes, shifting closer and closer to pure order, if such a thing can even happen with humans. There were no longer many that remembered the colorful chaos from before the final empire. It''s a curious phenomena, that even though humanity has the technology to theoretically sustain the body indefinitely, the soul will always leave at around a century, drifting off to that hidden place. Of course there are always exceptions.

    Nero remained the same, simply gathering momentum for the moment of truth. He watched the passing of those he proclaimed his children with sadness. But he did not let it consume him. There were always more children to protect.

    His plan for ascension was simple. It was planned long ahead, as all things must be in an empire of order, and it followed a simple precept. In a nation of order, no task is undertaken alone.

    A nation of transcendants would be raised up by Nero yes, but they would also be raised up by themselves. In the past century, Nero''s path had been refined, casting aside blind aspirations of a unified collective, in favor of a greater type of order. An order of individuals. An empire where everyone was unique, and yet still maintained perfect order. It was a task of magnitude far greater than a blind collective, brainwashed into a great hive mind. Yet, for every action, there is a corresponding reaction. The nation of individuals was a far greater creation, a trillion unique gems fitted into a greater tapestry. And the results showed.

    Where the world had previously bent in Nero¡¯s wake, now it warped, reality screaming out in pain at being forced to accommodate such power.

    We occasionally talked, and I found solace in his company, even as he clung to the last aspect of his mortality, endeavoring to bring them with him rather than shedding them.

    Finally, the long awaited day arrived. The empire had long been aware of what was happening, no one so much as second guessing what would have drawn hysterical laughter only a few centuries earlier. Life virtually stopped as every person found their assigned spot, and prepared for what could be their last moment of mortal life.

    Every person had been given years of time to prepare. Their job was simple. They acted as the batteries for Nero, powering the ascent. Each was to ponder deeply on their greatest creation and their strongest moment of emotion, providing Nero ample stores of creation and passion.  And when the time came, when the weight descended on their minds, they were to push with everything they had, adding their will to Nero¡¯s.

    Nero himself sat on the great dome of the imperial palace, what had once been the council hall a century ago, meditating peacefully. Despite its stature and size, Nero loomed over it, even in his quiet contemplation.

    Finally, the hour of ascension arrived, and Nero quietly rose. He looked the same he had on the day of his coronation, with long red hair and a sculpted body. A crown sat heavily on his brow. Only his eyes betrayed what he had become. They were like endless emerald pools, so deep one could drown in them, their soul ripped from their body.

    He addressed the people, projecting his gentle voice through his domain and across the cosmos. ¡°It''s time.¡±

    No more words were needed, the people having long been prepared for this moment. What was needed now was focus.

    Nero began to hover, rising to nearly a mile over the great dome and the world began to twist and bend, like water before him. Yet just before it seemed like the world would break, it¡­stopped.

    Nero , finally chose to speak, speaking in the voice of divinity, ¡°Let order reveal the chains that bind me.¡±

    A flash of blue revealed chains, trillions of them shooting off in every which direction. His power was clearly being siphoned off by them, used in a futile attempt to power another ascension. Alas not even Nero¡¯s power, split a trillion ways, was not enough. But that was ok. That had never been Nero¡¯s plan.

    Instead, he pulled their weight unto him and gathered the full force of his power back to himself, at the cost of his metaphorical weight becoming incomprehensibly heavy.

    Ascending with such weight should be impossible, like an ant with a mountain on its back trying to fly. But impossible was not enough to stop Nero.

    He pulled further, taking the power of their creations and passion, augmenting himself to match the impossible weight.

    And he began to dance.

    There are countless ways to ascend beyond the great barrier that separates mortality and divinity. Some, like Jorhan, would have severed it. Some would have crushed it. It was all dependent on the path of the ascendant. Nero was the greatest emperor to ever exist and an apostate of order. He would not break it. He would have it kneel.

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    Reality warped around him, barely a match of what he had been capable of before. But that was to be expected. He was now carrying trillions of times the weight. His movement wove the bones of a divine mandate, incorporating his path. The command of an emperor, and the calm of order were integrated into it, granting it authority.

    That was the easy part.

    Nero seized the creation and passion of the people, and began to weave once more. That was the nature of this mandate. The chaotic creation and passion of trillions ordered into a single perfect mandate. Hours passed as Nero continued his work, calm even as he processed the essence of billions of people a second. It was a feat I could hardly believe. His dance lit the sky on fire in its power, and shook the cosmos themselves.

    Finally, the mandate was complete. A command of such power it could do practically anything I myself could. But of course, not even I could forcefully ascend trillions of people. I couldn''t even forcefully ascend one. Well, perhaps, I could. But they would not be a true ascendant, merely an unlocked mortal whose existence would be dependent on me. I suspected that was what would happen to those Nero forcefully ascended.

    If he succeeded.

    If he accomplished the impossible.

    Nero did not give up. In the voice of the divine he invoked his ethos, ¡°I am Nero Baraton, Emperor of the Final Empire, Apostate of Order. And In my name, I hereby rise above the mortality forced upon me!¡±

    It was the first time I had even seen him lose his perpetual calm, and it was with the passion he slammed the edict down.

    ¡°PUSH!¡± he roared, summoning his people to help bear a small portion of the load.

    The command struck the barrier like one of my blows.

    The barrier was strange, not something I had created, but rather a built in component of the soul, limiting its power and potential. And this one was far beyond normal, more a composite creation of a trillion merged barriers than a single one. A consequence of bearing his citizens'' weight. He also had to bear their limits.

    If Nero managed to shatter his with those chains still attached, he could seize them and pull them up with him.

    The barrier began to falter, the absolute will in the mandate forcing it to obey. Forcing it to step aside. But it did not break.

    Nero kept pressing, unheeding of the weight upon him, channeling not only the weight of his own immense will, but the will of his people. The barrier faltered, but remained standing.

    If anyone had been watching, Nero would have appeared a blue sun, shining with light not physical but spiritual. I was forced to stabilize space around him so that the universe wouldn¡¯t collapse.

    A dangerous resonance was building outside of my creation, the leaking power of the mandate spilling outside of the universe and attracting attention from the True Void, a place beyond the reaches of space and time. I wove layers of my power around my creation coating it in layers of absolute power.

    Nero¡¯s struggle had reached a peak and he roared in effort as he pressed the mandate in further. The barrier buckled but did not break. Slowly but surely, Nero¡¯s people were falling off, wills exhausted, eventually leaving Nero alone with nothing but a crumpled mandate and a weakened will. I saw him hesitate for a second, perhaps contemplating severing his ties and ascending before he shook his head and went back to his futile struggling.

    Finally, hours later, the mandate was destroyed and Nero was knocked unconscious. I was forced to deal with both the back spiritual backlash from the mandate¡¯s destruction, sealing it before it could kill a life in the universe, and the recoil from the True Void, wrapping the universe in layers of my power.

    I watched as Nero fell from the sky and to the earth. I didn¡¯t intervene. A little fall couldn''t hurt him. I suspected the spiritual backlash was going to be much harder.

    The attempt had been impressive, wielding enough power that the universe would have been destroyed several times over if I hadn¡¯t stepped in. Yet no matter how impressive, one fact still ruled the rest.

    Nero had failed.

    ¡ª-----------------------------

    Nero woke to immense spiritual pain, excruciating waves of agony that inflicted their burden on a spiritual layer. It only took seconds for him to regain his normal calm, masking the pain. Emperors don¡¯t show pain. Emperors don''t take breaks.

    Immediately, he addressed the people, giving them a full rundown of what had happened and what the path was going forwards, namely the road to the next attempt. The people met that declaration with enthusiasm, their faith in him absolute after seeing the aftermath of his struggle to break his limits. His struggle to break their limits.

    The next few days were taken in reaction to the effects of the failed ascension. Even in its failure, exposing the universe to such power had changed it, and Nero and his subordinates worked tirelessly to take stock of them all.

    As for Nero himself, I didn''t know what he was feeling. He had grown to the point he could mask his emotions from me if I didn''t push. To my eyes he was the endless sea of calm he always was, but I was unsure.

    Could a man really retain his calm after such a failure?

    It seemed like it as Nero got his empire in order in record time.

    Finally, I could take it no longer. For one of the first times in my timeless existence, I took the initiative to address a mortal, though I wasn''t sure if the status even applied to Nero anymore.

    ¡°You failed.¡±

    He looked up at me, unsurprised to hear my voice, ¡°Yes, I failed.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°I''ll try again. And again. And again. Until I succeed.¡±

    ¡°And how will you do that?¡±

    When he looked back up, his eyes were no longer green. They were a deep, calm blue.

    ¡°I will walk my path. Until the end.¡±

    Until the end indeed.

 39 - A River Rediscovered

    The Final Emperor¡¯s path saturated the cosmos, nudging every individual towards order. But in the end, due to his soft touch, they were still individuals. As individuals they could choose, and as humans, many inevitably choose rebellion. They were an incredibly small minority, for harboring thoughts of rebellion, thoughts of chaos, meant bearing an incredible weight as the world itself tried to correct their actions. But those brave warriors resisted with an iron will, and for their resistance they paid the ultimate price. Death. Not merely of the body, but something much more profound. Death of one ideals, death of one''s mind, death of one soul. It is not enough to merely execute them, for martyrs merely empower the flames of rebellion. No, you must destroy them utterly, in mind and soul. And when it''s done, release them once more, made anew in the blazing essence of pain. My family led that rebellion, empowered as we were, and we watched many fall. It always seemed distant to me, a faraway event. Until my mentor was remade. Then I snapped. And the cosmos shook in my rage.

    ¡°Can we move on to something more interesting?¡± Kyoko whined.

    Merlin raised an eyebrow, ¡°Something more interesting, eh?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. This is too easy¡­¡±

    They sat in a massive hanger, absolutely stuffed with half finished contraptions and scrawled diagrams. Ten year old Kyoko had tipped his chair all the way back, effortlessly balancing it on only two legs. Merlin¡¯s violent eyes were thoughtful as he stroked his chin. Despite his advanced age, well over a hundred, Merlin looked like a young man in the prime of his life, a state supported by technology that would have him looking like that till the day he dropped dead.

    He let out a sigh, ¡°I¡¯m not sure I have much more to teach you, Kyoko.¡±

    Kyoko scoffed, ¡°Come on Merlin. I know you have something. You always do.¡±

    Marlin let out a laugh, ¡°Fine. Fine. I do have something for you. Though not to teach you.¡±

    ¡°Bu-¡±

    ¡°Boy,¡± Merlin laughed, ¡°I literally have nothing else to teach you. I¡¯ve been trying to tell you for a month.¡±

    He glanced back to find Kyoko''s face falling. Merlin chuckled inwardly. It was amazing how, despite his immense physical and mental ability, he was somehow a child in the overwhelming power of his emotions. He reached into a sealed locker and brought out a metal tube, slowly taking back to the table. Gingerly he opened the tube and removed what appeared to be a paper scroll.

    ¡°Instead, from now on, you will be joining me in my research.¡±

    Kyoko¡¯s face lit up like a supernova, and Merlin winced as a wave of overwhelming joy struck him. All of a sudden he wanted to dance, he wanted to scream, he wanted to live.

    ¡°Kyoko,¡± he choked out, voice strained, ¡°Control yourself.¡±

    The overwhelming wave ceased to be. ¡°Sorry.¡± Kyoko muttered, abashed.

    Merlin sighed, ¡°Good job containing it. But if that happens again we might need to revisit the control exercises.¡±

    Kyoko groaned, ¡°Those we¡¯re so boring!¡±

    Merlin chuckled, ¡°Then I recommend you control your emotions.¡± He motioned towards the scroll, ¡°Anyways, this is what we are going to be studying.¡±

    Kyoko poked it curiously, ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°It''s a painting.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°A river.¡±

    ¡°What river?¡±

    ¡°The Silver River.¡±

    Kyoko frowned. ¡°You never mentioned that river.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t, because I didn¡¯t know it existed until I saw it.¡±

    Kyoko¡¯s frown deepened, ¡°Where did you get it?¡±

    Merlin hesitated, ¡°...I stole it from one of the imperial vaults.¡±

    That got Kyoko¡¯s attention, ¡°You raided one of the imperial vaults!?¡±

    Merlin groaned, ¡°Here we go again.¡± he muttered, then raising his voice he responded, ¡°It was a necessary risk!¡±

    ¡°Why didn''t you bring me!?¡±

    Merlin blinked, then started to chuckle. The chuckled grew and grew until he was bent over roaring with laughter. Kyoko was not amused, as he watched his mentor laugh.

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    Finally, Merlin collected himself. ¡°Sorry. Sorry. It''s just¡­ that was a new response. Most would have called it reckless, despite my advanced age.¡±

    ¡°Well, it was pretty reckless.¡±

    Merlin glared at his protege, who stared back with a perfectly innocent face. He sighed, ¡°Fine. It was a bit reckless. But it was necessary.¡±

    Kyoko poked the scroll again, ¡°For a dusty old scroll?¡±

    Merlin sat down across from Kyoko. ¡°We fight the empire, resisting its control. But we¡¯ve forgotten what we¡¯re fighting for. We¡¯ve forgotten what we stood for in the millennia before the Final Empire. We¡¯ve forgotten our past.¡± He motioned to the scroll, ¡°This is the solution.¡±

    Kyoko looked at it doubtfully, ¡°That scroll?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I glanced at it briefly. And in the time before it knocked me out, I managed to glimpse at its essence. It is the Silver River and it remembers.¡±

    Kyoko raised an eyebrow, ¡°How is a painting a river? And who the heck uses paper anymore?¡±

    Merlin raised a finger, ¡°First, it''s not paper. I have no idea what it is, but It''s impossibly strong, and second¡±---he raised another finger¡ª¡±I have no idea. But I know it''s true.¡±

    Indeed he was right, that painting reminded me of a time long past, when the First Empire still ruled and a young boy sat on the banks of a river. The painting he had created had stayed with the river for millenia, and when the river was finally destroyed, the painting absorbed its essence, its memory. And became something greater. It''s a testament to Merlin¡¯s strength that he managed to gaze upon it without losing his life.

    Kyoko poked it again, curious, ¡°Let''s look at it, then.¡±

    Merlin caught his hand, ¡°Ok, but this painting is powerful. I¡¯m going to need you to support me.¡±

    Kyoko gave him an affirming nod.

    With ginger hands, he opened the scroll and gazed upon it.

    At first glance, it was a simple line, but the deeper one looked, the more complicated it became. First a line, then a river, then a story. In the surging currents, Merlin saw the beginning of humanity. He saw Adam and Eve and he saw their children. He felt Octavian¡¯s cold bloated corpse, swept away in currents unseen. He tasted the iron tang of blood, spilled in desperate struggle. He heard the passionate words of a man condemned. He smelled the ash of a burning empire. Scenes came in flashes, each a promise of another story, yet the second Merlin focused on one, it was swept away on hidden currents. It was maddening, the brief flashes of humanities origin. Merlin struggled to stay above the currents, struggled to reach the surface. But the river seemed endless, carrying the origin of humanity in it as it was. Every man was a world unto himself, and the river remembered those worlds. It contained them. And it showed Merlin.

    He held on for as long as he could, but he could not carry the weight of a million worlds. Not even with Kyoko¡¯s supporting presence.

    He felt himself slip to the ground as blackness claimed him.

    ------------------------------

    Merlin sat at the desk in his cramped apartment, nursing a massive headache. He had expected it, of course. One did not glimpse at the origin of their species without consequences, but regardless it was painful. Kyoko, of course, had been fine, merely worried for his mentor. The boy''s resilience was astounding.

    And what he had seen was¡­ inconceivable. It had been a time of lawlessness, chaos, and yet they had all been so¡­ free. And that river¡­ echoes of it still battered his mind and he could feel that he¡¯d barely pierced the top layers. He did wonder where the first humans, Adam and Eve had come from. To the Silver River, they had just¡­ appeared.

    Merlin sighed, and rose to his feet. So many questions and so little time. He wondered who some of the people he saw were. He focused, recalling images from the chaotic rush of the river. A dedicated prophet, anointed by the divine. An ancient emperor, forged through war. A human torch, burning himself to bring freedom back to the masses. The last one gave him the most hope. Empires had been toppled before, so why couldn¡¯t they be toppled again?

    He reached the kitchen, grabbed a pre-made meal and sat down to eat.

    As always, he found his thoughts drifting to Kyoko. The boy was a miracle, a genius beyond compare, if a bit immature. Merlin had always found it strange that a genius like him could find himself overcome with emotion. A mind such as his should have made him cold as reason overwhelmed emotion. It was a problem Merlin himself had suffered, at least until Beth. He shook his head, clearing the sad memories. Right, Kyoko. The fact his emotions still held control indicated their impossibly powerful nature. The boy burned with passion.

    The human torch of yore had burned, but he was a candle to Kyoko¡¯s star.

    Indeed, Kyoko was limitless, but he was even more pure in soul than the rest. He was a union of Angelica''s purity and the nature of a limitless. Honestly, he was terrifying, even as a child. A child with both power and focus, if he ever ascended he could eclipse even me.

    The shadows danced in the dim lighting as Merlin ate, contemplating the events of the day. Slowly but surely, his thoughts began to drift, as they tended to do those days. He was old, no getting around it, even with the body of a young man. Honestly, sometimes he wished he could have his unaltered body, in all its ancient glory, but alas, his duties demanded something more¡­ robust. Beth wouldn¡¯t have cared either way. He frowned as another wave of sadness crashed over him, but he indulged himself as he let the wave sweep away to another time.

    He had grown up beside her, spent every shred of time with her as children. The second he became a teenager, he had realized she meant far more than a mere friend, but he had kept it in, afraid of losing her. He remembered when they were 16, they went to the festival

    She had approached him, beautiful in a yellow summer dress. Gold speckled brown eyes lit up playfully as she asked him if he wanted to walk with her. He remembered her wild brown hair, free from its bindings. He had kissed her right there in the street. It was awkward at first and then all at once passionate. He grabbed her hand, and guided her dazed figure through the festival.

    More memories bombarded Merlin.

    Their first day of university. Working together in the labs. A proposal underneath a starry sky. A wedding in the depths of a star. A happy home. A funeral.

    Merlin flinched, snapping out of the recollections.

    Right, they were gone. Killed by the empire he desired to tear down. He snorted, suddenly feeling the need for a strong drink. Accident, yeah righ-.

    His head snapped back around to a small light blinking on the corner of the table.

    He froze, blood turning to ice.

    They had found him.

 39.2 - Capture

    Stupid, he chastised himself, stupid.

    Had he gotten so old as to make such basic mistakes?

    Merlin blurred through his apartment, storing all important items and information and destroying the rest. He slipped on his old visual disruptor cloak and walked to the door. He rotated his joints, stretching and preparing for his sensors to indicate the best moment to flee. King-class augmentations flared under his skin as he mentally traced the path he was to take.

    He only had to make it to one of the rebellion''s emergency teleporters. From there he could flee to one of their bases, destroying the evidence along the way. He only had one shot.

    Despite the situation''s desperate nature, Merlin found it almost comforting, a throwback to those early days, when everyday was a struggle to survive. Before he met Earl, Kyoko''s father. Before she had died. Merlin shuddered, the comforting feeling fleeing as quickly as it had come. He looked down at his hands in concern and surprise.

    What was going on? Why was he thinking of her so much? He had made peace with what had happened. Was it some sort of mental attack?

    He had no more time to contemplate as the small red light above the door began to flash. This time, he saw it instantly and reacted appropriately.

    Activating every cloaking device he had, he sipped out of the door and vanished into the night like a ghost. Behind him, the last remnants of his home would play interference, redirecting the inquisitors before self-destructing.

    Merlin ran through the night like a shadow. His apartment had been situated in the slums, only a floor off of the ground in a neighborhood long abandoned. As he fled, he frequently had to dodge large heaps of garbage and stumbling adicts, high off of bliss or nova. Thankfully, the rough asphalt provided decent grip as he ran, careful to control the force of his steps so as to not break it. Against his attempts at suppressing it, another night, his first time fleeing came to him. The night she had died.

    He shook his head, banishing the memory. What the hell?! This must be some sort of mental attack. That made it all the more important he escaped and informed the rebellion of this.

    Unfortunately, as soon as he finished that thought, one of his scanning devices alerted him to a pursuer

    They had found him.

    Immediately he upped his pace, dropping all attempts at stealth in favor of pure speed. He rushed forward faster than a pre-expansion car could even dream of reaching. It took skill to keep one''s balance at such speeds, but Merlin had had ample practice. The streets become a blur as Merlin dedicated all he had to escaping,  yet no matter what he did, they seemed to be gaining, the pursuers outside and the demons within.

    A sense of desperation began to creep up on him, different from the comforting sense he had gotten earlier. That had been controlled, padded with assurance and confidence. This was more primal, the first stage of those final desperate moments where everything is put on the line. He would not be taken, not there. A shudder almost escaped him, one that would have surely thrown his balance off, before he suppressed it.

    Not after what had happened to her.

    The chase reached a new threshold as Merlin sensed more and more pursuers joining it, at least 3 with kings class augmentations. He almost let out a bitter chuckle. The empire had the augs the rebellion lacked in spade. Having access to the means of production definitely helped.

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    Merlin¡¯s moves became more frantic as he sensed pursuers up ahead as well, taking major risks in order to try and find a window to escape. All while fighting off the images of his dead family.

    Finally, his chance came. One of the inquisitors with A-class augmentations wandered too far from his squad. He immediately corrected his course and drifted back to them, but by then Merlin had slammed through them like a bullet through glass, leaving shattered bodies in his wake.

    Merlin felt a brief moment of elation at his sudden freedom. He was so close¡­ just another minute.

    Alas, life is not so kind.

    The past reared its head and struck with unstoppable force. The memories of the fateful day came spilling back.

    It was their first year in the rebellion and to be honest, Merlin wasn''t exactly sure why they joined. Maybe because of their growing unease with the empire as they gained more information about it, maybe it was a desire for freedom from the restrictive policies of the empire that limited their research. Maybe it was a simple desire to be a part of something bigger than themselves. It didn¡¯t feel real at the time.

    Then Merlin came home to an empty house, the damning missive in the kitchen table, accusing his dear Beth of rebellion and sentencing her to restructuring, and it was all of a sudden painfully real. When she came back from restructuring a few days later, she wasn''t Beth. She was just another empire lackey, stupid and loyal. Empty, like they had taken everything that made her Beth and scooped it out. He had tried to fix her, yet no matter what he did, it was like they had replaced her brain with another, but that was impossible. Inquisitors came for the others, but they never came for Merlin. Beth had kept his involvement secret till the end.

    And he had repaid her, with a knife to the gut. He remembered that moment, the blood gushing like a waterfall and the animalistic fear in her eyes. For a second, he thought he saw a glimmer of the true Beth, deep within, glad to be freed, but it could just as easily be a hallucination, generated by a mind trying to cope with killing the love of his life.

    He told himself it was needed, that if he didn¡¯t, she would expose him and the list of contacts she¡¯d somehow gotten her hands on. In the end it was hollow.

    He had killed her with his own two hands.

    In the present, Merlin reached out and squashed those memories with the full weight of his unfettered will. He was a beat too late and tripped, sliding along the pavement with the momentum of an ancient truck. He hit a wall with a muted boom, destroying it in the process.

    He was back on his feet and running an instant later, but sometimes all it takes is a moment.

    He was surrounded again, and he wouldn''t get another lucky break like before.

    Merlin cracked his neck, a purely symbolic gesture, face grim. If he couldn''t run, he would fight. He would not be taken, not be turned into that thoughtless thing they had made Beth. He would fight to the end.

    Three king-class inquisitors stood before him, along with a dozen A and B class, all of them supported by a swarm of autonomous drones. They raised ion rifles at him, and Merlin prepared for the fight of his life.

    Below his skin, his augmentations bargain to whirl, preparing for battle. His hidden modifications activated, giving him an edge over other king-class beings. He prepared to attack first, every muscle tensing.

    Then slow clapping echoed throughout the square. Merlin whirled around, desperately trying to figure out how somebody had gotten so close without him noticing.

    ¡°Not bad, Merlin Asbat, not bad. Few have necessitated my interference.¡±

    He turned to the others, ¡°I¡¯m failing you all. You needed to strike before he had time to get into position. His augs can pack a nasty punch if you let them charge.¡±

    Nobody pointed out the hypocrisy of him doing the same thing, but they didn''t need to.

    Merin¡¯s face fell as he realized who this was.

    He was simply known as the Hunter, and his hunts never failed. He had perhaps the highest success rate of capture in the centuries long history of the Final Empire.

    Merlin desperately realized there was no escaping and switched to the backup plan.

    Overload his communication module to get past the anti-message barrier and warn the rebellion of the mind attacks. Such an action would fry him, but that was the better course of action.

    Better than restructuring.

    Better than losing himself.

    Mind made, he activated the sequence, his last thoughts of regret.

    I¡¯m sorry Kyoko¡­

    Then he waited for the sweet oblivion of death. Nothing came. Horror filled him as he realized what had happened. The hunter had somehow disabled his augs.

    Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife from his coat and tried to stab himself.

    Only to find the hunter holding his arm. ¡°Can¡¯t have you getting away now, can we?¡±

    No.

    NO.

    He would not-

    Darkness.

 39.3 - A New Master

    Light.

    Merlin opened his eyes to see a spotless white room. He was laying in a hovering bed, firmly strapped down by unseen bounds. There was no clear light source yet light seemed to come from everywhere. For an indeterminate time, he waited in that timeless room, struggling to come to terms with his capture. He growled softly.

    He had to get out.

    Yet no matter how he struggled, the invisible bonds held him tight. Another timeless struggle passed, this one infused with the desperation of a trapped antelope sensing the approaching lion.

    Merlin was still struggling when a man appeared beside him, dressed in a white lab coat with plain brown hair and eyes. Such plainess was strange in a world where people could restructure their bodies on a whim.

    He looked down at Merlin''s still form, ¡°Oooo. A struggler, huh. This¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    He gestured with a wrist and Merlin found himself able to speak.

    The man continued to speak, ¡°You know, technically, I¡¯m not supposed to talk to you.¡± He had an almost crazy quality about him, rambling as easily as breathing. ¡°But I find that talking to my patients makes the process easier for everyone. In fac-¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Merlin questioned harshly.

    The man¡¯s smile grew, a glimmer of something disconcerting appearing in his eyes, ¡°They call me the doctor. But that''s a lie.¡± He leaned in as if telling Merlin a secret and whispered, ¡°I¡¯m an executioner.¡± He leaned back suddenly, his voice gaining energy, ¡°But I¡¯m not that crude ¡®put your head in a basket¡¯ type. No, I¡¯m an artist.¡± He leaned closer again, voice falling, ¡°And with the brush of death, I will remake you.¡± He laughed, the excited noise of a child receiving a new toy.

    Merlin¡¯s mind went into overdrive as he struggled to think of a way to escape this obviously insane man, no executioner. Keep him talking.

    ¡°And how will you do that?¡±

    The executioner exploded to his feet, ¡°So glad you asked!¡± He started to pace, frantic energy evident in his every movement.

    ¡°You see, men are more than just their bodies. They are minds. They are identities. They are ideals. When you simply kill the body, you don¡¯t kill the man. He lives on, enshrined in the ideals he upheld and the people he loved. No, that is not death.¡± All at once he rushed back to Merlin¡¯s side, gazing at him with wide, wild eyes.

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    ¡°So you cut everything away. Break their ideals. Break their minds. Scatter their identities. Kill them on a level deeper than the mere physical.¡±

    Merlin was becoming increasingly worried at the lack of openings he saw. Normally there was something, but so far he had come up blank. And the man''s speech was becoming increasingly worrying. Keep him talking, there must be a way.

    ¡°You can''t touch my mind or identity. They are beyond your reach.¡±

    The executioner laughed, a wild sound, ¡°Exactly. Exactly! No, I can¡¯t touch you. You are beyond my reach.¡±

    He reached out and took Merlin¡¯s hand, almost reverently, ¡°But not yours. I will teach you, guide you in the art of death. From now on, you are my apprentice, and I your master. Under my guidance, we will kill you, striping away all that defines you. And when the work is done? A new man shall walk the physical once more, one wearing your body.¡±

    In truth, it is not a new man walking the street. The soul is eternal, everpresent. Treatment such as this and the trauma it generates suppresses the soul in its vessel, leading to the mindless people that seem to be produced. Theoretically, rebounding from such an experience is a path to power like no other. Trauma can break a man, yes. But it can also refine one. The higher the risk, the greater the reward.

    Merlin¡¯s eyes widened, realization rushing through him. This was what had happened to Beth all those years ago. His heart broke once more as he realized what she had gone through, being forced to break her own ego.

    The executioner chuckled, ¡°Excited, disciple? Your first lesson starts soon. You will be learning through the greatest teacher of all. Pain.¡±

    ¡°How could you do this to people? Just kill them!¡±

    ¡°Oooo. There¡¯s the fire. Well, my dear disciple, just killing people creates martyrs. Martyrs act as bridges, connecting higher concepts with lesser people. We break those would-be-martyrs, separating the ideal from the frail man, and therefore separating the ideal from the people that would be inspired by it.¡±

    ¡°The ideal is still there! You can''t kill an idea!¡±

    This time, the executioner laughed, his voice reaching a fever pitch, ¡°Oh, yes we can! An idea only exists so long as it is remembered. The seconds it''s forgotten it ceases to be. We simply need to wipe it from the collective consciousness. Truth, my disciple, is malleable, and so is thought.¡±

    Merlin felt his blood turn to ice. This was so much worse than he had expected. And the worst part was he had no idea how much he had been affected. What had he forgotten? Was what he knew true, or simply another creation of the empire? The world spun around him as he tried to find something true in a sea of illusions.

    The executioner laughed again, ¡°Now do you see? Resistance is futile. We already have you in all but name. Just surrender the last portion.¡±

    Merlin was drowning in doubt, but he would not surrender himself. ¡°No.¡±

    The executioner¡¯s grin grew to an impossibly large size, the crazed light in his eyes flashing.

    ¡°First lesson, my disciple. You don¡¯t say no.¡±

    He snapped his fingers and the world became pain.

 39.4 - Too Late

    Merlin¡¯s eyes snapped open with a gasp. For a minute, he just silently shook, sobbing tearlessly, before pulling himself back together. The last months had been hell, a never ending nightmare of pain.

    But Merlin refused to surrender the core of his being

    The executer, as he had promised, was an adept teacher. He spoke in the scratchy voice of agony, whispering sweet promises in his ear. Telling him that it could all stop if only he would die. The animalistic part, ever present even in the age of technology, fought him desperately, begging him to give it.

    But Merlin wasn''t an animal. He was a man. So he held on.

    Merlin thought of Kyoko, trying to visualize the boy that brought him so much joy. It was becoming progressively harder to think, a fact the terrified Merlin. Some parts of his fragmented mind had already started to give in, leaving him lesser than before.

    But he was still himself, at least at his core. Merlin held onto that thought like a lifeline.

    He wondered if the others had noticed his absence. Kyoko most definitely had, and he hoped the boy wouldn''t do anything reckless. He wasn''t even sure he wanted to be rescued. Would they even recognize what he had become now?

    Merlin froze as a familiar chuckle appeared behind him. He gasped, wrestling down the instinctive urge to start sobbing again.

    The executioner walked into sight, ¡°My, my. My disciple, you truly are something. So resistant. Why not just give in? It''s not like you matter in the grand scheme of things.¡±

    In the beginning, Merlin had matched him, clashing their philosophies and often coming out on top. Yet every time he had the executioner would change his argument, using pain instead of words. The first time, Merlin had refused to concede the point. And the second and the third. For hundreds of arguments, he refused to concede. But they cost him something, something intangible. Every argument was harder to hold then the last.

    Eventually, Merlin broke. It was a meaningless argument, wasn''t it? Yet the second he had given in, cried out for mercy, he felt something within him depart. A piece of him, gone.

    He had tried arguing a few more times, but it was futile. He had already broken once. What was one more?

    Eventually, he had realized that arguing only gave them a part of himself to target, so he stopped speaking entirely. And the pain increased tenfold.

    Still, he refused to surrender his core.

    ¡°Not going to argue today? Shame. Anyways, I have some exciting news! I have been given permission to train you in the temporal chamber. We have no time to waste!¡±

    He snapped his fingers and drones appeared to lift his bed up. As they approached, the wall slid open to release them from the endless white room.

    The hall beyond was completely sterile and clean, almost as white as the room he had been staying in, but without the ever-present light. Merlin didn''t know how long they traversed those maze-like halls. He saw other inmates, some walking on their own power, accompanied by guards and some on hovering beds like him.

    What drew Merlin¡¯s attention the most were their eyes, either burning with endless agony or completely empty. The empty ones seemed to swallow him, sucking him out of his mortal vessel while the burning ones seemed to drill right through him, begging for someone, anyone to end their pain.

    The eyes are the window to the soul, and what Merlin saw within them reflected the state of their souls. Burning in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable. Or disconnected, locked out of their bodies and minds. Both were horrific fates.

    Finally, they arrived at the temporal chamber, a room that looked identical to his old one, with glowing white walls. The executioner ran his finger along Merlin cheeks.

    ¡°You should be honored, my disciple. Only the strongest are given access to the temporal chamber.¡±

    Merlin couldn''t hold his silence any longer ¡°What¡­ what is it?¡± he croaked out.

    The executioner laughed. ¡®He speaks! Well, my dear disciple, it''s time. Time to learn. Time to reflect. It is time, and it shall be your master.¡±

    He snapped his fingers, and everything vanished. Merlin was in a black void, nothing around him. He couldn''t feel anything, couldn''t hear, couldn''t see. It was like nothing existed except for him. Merlin finally understood what the temporal chamber was. It was time.

    He would be here until he was dead, parts of himself slipping off into the endless void.

    But he was still determined to survive. The neverending pain had ended. He just had to wait. He was old, he understood how to weather the passing of time.

    How wrong he was.

    The first century passed on in quiet contemplation, Merlin carefully reflecting on who he was in order to maintain his identity. In the second he began to slip, the meaningless of it all starting to occur to him. Why was he maintaining his identity in an absolute void? Still, he held on. But those doubts stayed with him.

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    Around the fourth century, he could no longer remember what his mother looked like. That terrified him, especially the thought of losing Beth again. He immediately moved her conception to the deepest parts of himself, hiding her within himself.

    As more time passed, more parts of himself began to drift as he expanded. Lacking that tangible pressure, the gravity of reality that holds men together he began to drift into the void, simply floating away.

    It was fascinating to watch, like an intricate stack of rocks suddenly stripped of the gravity that held them together.

    At the time of the first millennia, all conscious thought had fled Merlin. He existed, and that existence was the only thing that defined him. That and the small core of himself he kept hidden.

    The core was strong, but eventually even it began to drift apart over the millenia, specks smaller than even molecules, yet specks all the same.

    Eternity came and passed.

    All that was left of Merlin was a single grainy image.

    A young girl in a yellow summer dress, wild brown hair blowing in the light breeze. Gold speckled brown eyes shone with a playful fire.

    He no longer knew what it was, only that it was of utmost importance.

    In that thoughtless existence, he reached deep within, and branded her image into his very soul.

    For an instant, a blimp in that eternity, he was Merlin again.

    Then time stripped him bare again.

    I remember his last thought, though it was more a raw expression of emotion.

    I¡¯m sorry¡­

    His empty mind shattered.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    ¡°Damn, he was a tough one, eh.¡± the executioner remarked, ¡°We were almost out of power.¡±

    Still, he knew the man had broken, and now all that was left was indoctrination. That was the easy part. Broken minds would cling to the first thing they were presented with, desperately seeking a pillar of stability. It didn''t matter how strong he was in life, with his mind broken he could only become another mindless slave. The executioner would train him to be absolutely loyal to the empire, and then release him back into the world.

    Inevitably, the rebels would reach out, and he would report them. It would destroy his ethos, destroy his legacy, and deliver them a fresh batch of rebels to execute.

    Honestly, the executioner found it poetic. Artful in its efficiency and potency.

    It was easy to kill a body.

    It was much harder to kill a man.

    He was still reflecting on this, absentmindedly summoning some bots to transport the body when the wall exploded.

    And Kyoko an Erduk walked through the gap, burning with rage.

    The executioner''s eyes had barely widened before Kyoko¡¯s rage-filled blow splattered him against the back wall.

    ¡°Merlin!¡± he cried upon seeing Merlin''s prone form. He rushed forward and flipped the switch to free him from his restraints. ¡°We need to go!¡±

    ` Merlin didn¡¯t move.

    Kyoko tried again, ¡°Merlin?¡±

    No response.

    ¡°Merlin, what''s wrong? Say something.¡±

    Alas, Merlin was already gone.

    Kyoko futilely tried a few more times before being forced to pick up Merlin¡¯s body and start running. The building''s security mustered its full force to stop Kyoko.

    But Kyoko was furious, and nothing could stop him.

    He tore through the legendary security like it was wet paper.

    When he finally burst out of the building, the Hunter was waiting for them.

    This time, listening to his own advice, he struck as soon as he could, firing a barrage of plasma missiles.

    Kyoko''s rage burned hotter than any since HER.

    In a single movement he was in front of the Hunter. In another, the Hunter was dead.

    After that it was smooth sailing.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    The next day, Kyoko and his father, Leo an Erduk, crowded around Merlin¡¯s bed.

    ¡°Dad, what''s wrong with him?¡± Kyoko questioned.

    Leo looked down with a troubled question.

    ¡°They broke his mind. You¡¯re lucky you found him before they had time to indoctrinate him.¡±

    Kyoko looked on the verge of tears. ¡°...But¡­but what do we do?¡±

    Leo sighed, ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do. Those broken never come back.¡± He put a hand on Kyoko''s shoulder and crouched to get on face level with him. ¡°Merlin knew the risks, and he gladly accepted them.¡± He hung his head. ¡°I only wish I could have protected him better. I¡¯m so sorry Beth. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Dad! He moved!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°When you said Beth he moved.¡±

    Merlin stirred gently.

    Leo hurriedly pulled up a holographic picture of Beth.

    Merlin shakily reached for the hologram, a light keening escaping his lips.

    Leo sucked in a breath. ¡°Well, I''ll be damned. He managed to save a part of himself.¡±

    Kyoko grabbed Leo¡¯s sleeve, ¡°Does this mean we can save him?!¡± Palpable waves of hope rolled off him, so powerful they would have struck down a lesser man. Merlin seemed to absorb them, like a withered plant in the light of the sun.

    Leo watched in silence. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ possible. Merlin always was strong.¡±

    Kyoko let out a squeal.

    ¡°But,¡± Leo held up a hand. ¡°You will be his caretaker, nurturing him as he nurtured you. Feed him your power and passion. It seems to help.¡±

    Kyoko smiled, blindingly bright, so bright even Leo winced.

    ¡°Yes! I¡¯ll save him!¡±

    Humanity truly is a miracle.

    Even in the darkest of moments, among the dead and broken.

    Hope shines.

    Brilliant in its tenacity.

    Eternal.

 40 - To Strike a Emperor

    Revenge is burning hot, a blazing blade of devastation. It fills men with righteous fury and spurs crusades against those that have wronged them. Those they think have wronged them. Revenge is a dangerous game. I should know, for I played it. And I won. To this day, I wonder if it would have been better if I lost. It should have been impossible. Nero was a being with enough power to ascend a million times over. But when I raged, even the endless ocean of order could not extinguish me. I burned and I burned. And when I finally calmed down, all that was left was ashes. And a new enemy. The cycle never ends.

    Kyoko screamed, the sound rippling through the world around him, matter shying back in the face of his despair. Merlin, laying in the corner, stirred briefly at the wave of all encompassing emotion. Leo¡¯s body didn¡¯t budge.

    Tears began to stream down Kyoko¡¯s face, as he looked at the battered form of his father, covered in blood and spit. He traced the shape of Leo¡¯s graceful jaw, a mirror to his own now that he had finally reached manhood. Leo¡¯s hair, even in death, was black as the void, an absolute mirror to Kyoko''s brilliant gold. Kyoko¡¯s sobs increased in intensity as he realized that his father would never again gaze at him with those azure eyes they both shared. He tried not to look at the gaping hole in Leo''s chest, but it drew his gaze like a moth to the flame. His sobbing became silent as it passed that invisible threshold of grief. That threshold where sound no longer served to express its power.

    He cursed his slowness. If he had only been there an hour earlier¡­

    It had taken four emperor class inquisitors to pin down Leo an Erduk, and in the end they had been unable to safely capture him. So they had gone with the second best option. They had killed him, plunging an iron covered arm straight into his heart and ripping the life right out of him.

    By the time Kyoko had managed to find his father, it was too late. All that was left was the body. Kyoko curled into a ball next to his father, shaking softly. Any mortal that found themselves within a hundred feet of him would find their souls ripped out of their bodies, unable to stand in the face of the pseudo-divine sorrow.

    Kyoko always was an emotional child, just like HER.

    I watched as he cried, and examined the waves of emotion radiating off of him. They were pure in a way I hadn''t seen since HER, and they warped the world in the image of his sorrow. The world around him became dull as all of the color seemed to be leached out of it, giving way to that transcendent emotion.

    Kyoko thought about his father, the strength that had guided him and the love that had nurtured him. In the deepest part of him, a pressure began to build a pressure he had been suppressing.

    He raised his head and looked at Merlin''s prone form. He had been clinging to that shred of hope that Merlin had preserved himself. But there is only so much grief a man can take before further grief becomes unnoticeable. In that ocean of grief, Kyoko finally admitted that Merlin had made no progress over the past decade.

    That pressure built further.

    Kyoko opened the floodgates, basking in the weight of every tragedy he had pushed away, every truth he had denied. Some might have called it grief wrought delusion.

    But Kyoko called it truth, and to him, it was.

    The world, now grayscale, darkened, the last hint of white disappearing like mist on a sunny day. In the void, the pressure built and built.

    Why had all this happened? Why? Who?! Who had DONE THIS?!

    The empire.

    Kyoko hesitated. Who?

    THE EMPIRE!

    That was all that was needed. The void ignited bringing light and purpose back to a dark world. But the light was crimson, the color of fresh blood, and it was furious.

    They needed to pay for what they had taken from him.

    But not the inquisitors, no those pawns were nothing. The only way to truly avenge his father was to go for the root.

    To kill the emperor.

    Kyoko rose to his feet, the world shying back at his crimson glow, and began to walk with single minded focus.

    The Final Empire''s end was upon it.

    ¡ª------------------------------

    The skies above Earth, the fabled homeworld flashed crimson as a presence of endless rage descended upon them. Kyoko stepped off the teleporters, the crowds around him collapsing from his presence. Even in the storm his presence kicked up his movements were absolutely controlled, not a hair out of line.

    He was the grim reaper in a sea of rage, a specter of silence in a world of fury.

    Step by step he advanced.

    The wide streets, separated from the skyscraping monstrosities most cities had become, seemed to widen in his presence, struggling to contain something so vast. The short one and two story buildings, equipped with incredibly advanced technology, shied away. The people cowered, struggling to get out of his way.

    Finally, he arrived in front of Araxta, Nero¡¯s seat of power, the famed floating castle. When no escort descended to show him to the gates, he took to the air, forcing reality to bend to his whims and striding on it as if it were solid ground. He knocked on the azure gates, carved in the relief of ancient dragons, maintained mostly for show, with tremendous force, sending clanging echoes ringing through the castle.

    CLANG!

    CLANG!

    The gates swung open silently, and Kyoko, not questioning his purpose, advanced without hesitation. His presence billowed out, the harbinger of chaos, but the denizens of the castle didn''t flinch back, protected by a greater power as they were. They merely looked on with curiosity as he passed, confident in their emperor. His surroundings were a dense cluster of metallic buildings, finished with futuristic edges and flashing lights. Besides being known for its floating, Araxta, despite its relatively small size, was one of the most advanced cities in existence, home of the universes¡¯ greatest.

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    Kyoko advanced relentlessly for the greatest concentration of power he had ever sensed, one even greater than his own. But he was furious. And he would let something as arbitrary as reality stop him.

    He had declared the emperor would die.

    So he would.

    Simple.

    He threw the doors to the throne room open with a tremendous bang revealing the simple hall. It was white, with walls that seemed to glow, devoid of anything except a simple wooden throne at the end. It reminded him of the room he had found Merlin in so long ago.

    The thought flared his rage higher and blazing as he never had before he focused his full attention on the man sitting in the wooden throne.

    Eyes of the deepest oceans met eyes of the endless skies. Kyoko''s rage met Nero¡¯s calm and the world seemed to break.

    The world shook as two beings that never should have existed matched their might against each other. For a second, it seemed like the world would shake itself to pieces.

    Then, Nero let out a sigh, and ended the confrontation, sharply cutting it off.

    ¡°So you are the real deal. Fascinating. I thought myself the only one.¡± ¡ªhe got to his feet, silver crown gleaming¡ª ¡°why are you so angry?¡±

    Kyoko''s face twisted, ¡°You killed my family!¡±

    ¡°The rebels? They deserved what was coming to them.¡±

    ¡°HOW D-¡±

    ¡°Quiet. Look at the world around you. There is peace. There is order. What do you think would happen if that order crumbled?¡±

    Kyoko opened his mouth angrily, but Nero cut him off with a raised hand.

    ¡°War. And death. A billion children denied a billion parents. Death on a scale you couldn''t fathom. Should I have let it happen?¡±

    Kyoko snorted, ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you care!¡±

    ¡°I do. They are my children. If I must kill one to save the rest, I will not hesitate. Order will rule, and you must consider the consequence of destroying that order.¡±

    Nero struck Kyoko with waves of essence to accompany his words, showing Kyoko war and death on a scale beyond mortal comprehension. He showed him true order, its majestic power. He showed him the world as he saw it.

    Nero struck with the full force of his path and will, but not on a physical level. He tried to corrupt Kyoko''s path, making it subordinate to himself. He spoke with such conviction that the world around him obeyed his words, reversing entropy on a localized scale to obey his commands.

    On any other being, it would have worked, shattering their paths and making them a mere subordinate of Nero.

    But Kyoko had HER purity and that purity was defined by one thing. Pure, unwavering focus. When they committed to a path, nothing could stop them.

    Kyoko had vowed the emperor would die.

    So he would.

    Kyoko didn¡¯t reply, merely returned the favor. He stepped forward and struck Nero with the force of his truth. A churning maelstrom of Passion. Love, hate, sorrow, rage, joy, despair struck Nero with the full force of a collapsing star.

    Nero, the Final Emperor, Apostate of Order, took a half-step back in shock. He looked back at Kyoko, looking vaguely confused.

    ¡°That is¡­ chaos. You are chaos.¡±

    ¡°And I will tear your empire to the ground!¡±

    Nero matched him, an aura of deep blue appearing around him, forcing away the crimson one. ¡°Chaos has no place in my kingdom. Begone.¡±

    For a second, the world held its breath. Then, in a thunderous exhale, it began.

    Nero, wove a thousand laws into existence, reinforcing the chamber around them while simultaneously augmenting himself and suppressing Kyoko. He wielded the whole world as his weapon, leveraging it to devastating effect.

    Kyoko only had his Passion, but somehow, impossibly, it was enough.

    With a primal roar, he shattered the laws binding him and launched himself forward like a missile. Nero danced around his strike, flowing like a stream, calm as ever. But if one looked in his eyes at that moment, they would see a faint hint of surprise.

    Then, his blues eyes seemed to deepen as he drew upon more of his power. The deep blue light slowly began to overtake the crimson domain, but Kyoko didn''t care. He had one goal and one goal only.

    Again and again he launched himself at Nero, so fast the space around him cracked ominously, striking in blindingly complex patterns, seemingly based off of nothing. Nero danced as he always had, flowing like water and striking like a raging river. But even he was having problems keeping up with Kyoko¡¯s seemingly random attacks.

    Even he couldn''t find patterns on the Passion filled attacks of one who had lost everything.

    However, it must be mentioned, that even as he fought Kyoko, Nero maintained his universal aura and wove a true edict to bind Kyoko, one tuned especially for him. It was a blindingly potent display of skill and power.

    Yet Kyoko¡¯s Passion was the thing that truly captivated me. Ever since he was a young child, he had been forced to restrain himself out of fear of hurting those around him. Yet at that moment¡­ he was free. Free to fight. Free to be.

    I saw it in his eyes. Beyond that rage. Beyond the pain. He shone. And he loved it.

    But all good things must come to an end. For all of Kyoko¡¯s potential, all his power, he was simply too young, too inexperienced to match up against a monster like Nero.

    Slowly, the tide began to turn as even Kyoko chaos failed to slow Nero¡¯s gaze.

    In the end, it was the crown that spelled Kyoko¡¯s doom. He had no divine artifact of his own, and Nero¡¯s had grown mighty indeed over the years.

    The crown shone with brilliant silver light, like a star being born. The only thing visible through its light were a pair of deep blue orbs, calm and imperious.

    ¡°Bind¡± Nero commanded in the voice of divinity, and the world, bolstered by the newly finished edict, rushed to do his bidding.

    The air around Kyoko grew heavy as every muscle in his body was sealed and severed from his mind. Even the stands of fate seemed to diverge in order to bind him, trapping him in infinite possibilities. His mind began to go dark as the edict sealed his thoughts, but Kyoko managed to summon his Passion to stay aware.

    It was a strange sight. One was bound and the other free. Yet it felt like the opposite, Kyoko¡¯s struggle against his bonds contrasting Nero¡¯s unnatural stillness, even in his dance.

    Nero was silent as he mustered power for the final blow, dancing in predetermined patterns, drawing power from his path to create a death edict. There was no escaping this blow, but Kyoko tried anyway.

    Instead of mustering more power, he condescend the power he had, in the way only SHE could have. He set a new goal, escaped this edict, and poured everything he had into it.

    The working he created was stable and chaotic, a raw mess of emotion and focus, but it was oddly fitting for the task on hand. Then he condensed it further, forgetting even the goal of escaping. This was an expression of his path, of him. Nothing more.

    It was.

    ¡°Die¡± Nero commanded.

    So when Nero struck him with the edict of death, Kyoko erupted.

    Waves of Passion and pure LIFE poured off of him, shredding the edict to nothing and rippling throughout the fabric of the universe before Nero could stop it. As the echoes of transcendent passion and life, the echoes of chaos, reached the citizens of the Final Empire, they began to cheer, and cry, and fight, and love.

    Nero reacted instantly, flaring his aura to its fullest capacity, but life was not so easily ended. Passion was not so easily snuffed out. Riots broke out on some planets, festivals on others as chaos invaded the Final Empire.

    Nero immediately started intervening, weaving new laws to enforce his empire while summoning a full council of governors.

    In his desperation, he didn''t notice Kyoko using his last moment of consciousness to launch himself in the air, binding his destination to a familiar sensation. One that felt like his father.

    Kyoko¡¯s last thought was rage at his failure.

 40.2 - The Tombs

    Kyoko opened his eyes to stars. They danced across his vision, remnants of glory and failure both, weaving together in intricate tapestries of truth. The stars were a magnificent sight from any view point, but here, from the Mountain of Adam, birthplace of man, was where they had truly meant to be seen. And they shone.

    He lay in a crater several feet deep, covered in rocks and ice. The icy winds struggled through the layers of rocks covering him as Kyoko took stock of the situation. He grimaced. He wasn¡¯t wounded, but he had barely gotten out alive. Never had he imagined Nero had wielded that much power. The stars still danced overhead, taunting him with visions of greater things.

    But Kyoko was indifferent to them. His defeat had not quelled his purpose, not quenched his rage. As he stood, rocks tumbling off him, golden hair waving in the late night breeze, he tilted his head curiously, sensing something. Something that felt like home, felt like kin. He stood for a moment struggling with the decision. To rush back a try again? Or to follow that strange feeling?

    Kyoko was furious, but he wasn''t stupid. He couldn''t win as he was. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to grow stronger. Eventually, he let out a sigh and began to follow that feeling, scanning the mountain like a bloodhound on a new scent. It came from up above, at the acme of the mountain.

    The Mountain of Adam was treacherous and cold, enormous in its magnitude. But the children of Adam had summited the mountain all those ages ago, and so could Kyoko.

    As he continued, the icy wind picked up, transforming into a storm, obscuring the distant stars. It was like the world itself was struggling to keep Kyoko from the top. Yet the harder it pushed, the brighter Kyoko grew. He shone like a miniature sun, the only visible star, as he forced his way through a storm that would have killed a normal man a thousand times over.

    At last the peak loomed, a jagged mass of rock and ice. Kyoko took a slight turn, heading for a small outcrop to the sides instead of the absolute summit. He walked up to it, and then through the illusion to reveal a simple stone door. Worn from the ages, it held a single word.

    Erduk.

    Without hesitation, Kyoko pushed the door open and entered the Vault of the Erduks. Lights flickered on, likely later additions, and illuminated the seemingly endless flights of stairs, arranged in a square with a gap in the middle, filled with only inky blackness. Kyoko skipped the stairs entirely, jumping into the gap between them and plummeting to the floor nearly a mile below. He landed with the grace of a cat, hardly making a sound.

    The air was warmer here, perhaps heated by the depths of the earth, but equally dry. Before him loomed an endless hall, filled with the vaults of the dead. The space was thick with their presences, the imprints of their past glory and weight striking him like a child striking an elephant. How could their glory match his?

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    Still they were kin, so he did the favor of not crushing their echoes completely.

    He walked up to the first vault. Argus an Erduk it read, his grandfather. He had died before Kyoko ever met him, but he remembered his fathers stories.

    He sighed, and walked over to the blank wall after Argus, one ready to hold the legacy of the next Erduk. Stone yielded before him as he carved out an alcove to match the others with his bare hands. When it was done, he carved out a name. Leo and Erduk.

    Then he hesitated. He had nothing to give but the clothes on his back, and his father was worth far more than mere clothes. All he had was his love. He hoped it was enough.

    Holding out a hand, he gathered every bit of his father he still had on him, condescending it into the palm of his hand. He hesitated for a moment, before making up his mind.

    ¡°Goodbye father.¡± he whispered, pressing his father''s imprint into the alcove, letting him join his ancestors in the burial vaults.

    There was no more to say. He still hadn¡¯t actually avenged his father, so he continued down the hall, walking the history of his lineage.

    Time slipped away as he saw them in all their truth, all their essence. They were glorious, one and all. Still, even among a lineage of kings and demigods, there are those that stand out. Kyoko spent a full hour in front of Jausn¡¯s alcove, basking in the ancient imprint of the first limitless. ¡°Rest well, brother.¡± he whispered as he turned to walk deeper.

    Jorhan and Adam¡¯s imprints also caught his attention, echoes of glory and revolution wafting to him. The cloves were filled with stuff, trinkets and books, but Kyoko didn¡¯t need such things. He felt then in the deepest sense.

    He felt the unfettered nature of the early ages, when men were free to choose. Free to suffer the consequences of their actions. When men burned with glorious flame, immolating themselves in higher purpose. With every step, every morsel, Kyoko¡¯s rage grew.

    How dare Nero strip them of this.

    He remembered the river, the painting that had shown him the origin of man. It had inspired his path in the first place, the echoes of passion and life seemingly like divine truth. Now, the path was confirmed, baptized in the waters of time and truth.

    They freely gave him the truth of their lived experiences and he devoured them, integrating them in his own glory.

    Finally, he stood before the old, worn door at the end of the hallway. It opened with a tremendous shriek, sending echoes skittering through the hall. Angelica¡¯s presence struck him, this time on a much more equal standing, but Kyoko weathered it without a sign of strain and stepped into the bare chamber. Empty accept for¡­ HER.

    I had known this was coming, promised myself that I wouldn''t flinch, wouldn''t look away. This was perhaps the most significant event to ever happen. I would not look away.

    Yet as Kyoko advanced, I couldn¡¯t help but take a peek at her.

    She was still beautiful, perfectly preserved, with long golden hair and brilliant azure eyes. Just like Kyoko. I couldn''t suppress the memories. They struck me like nothing I had ever felt.

    I couldn''t take it. I fled, leaving Kyoko by himself.

 40.3 - Kyoko: The Blade

    As I approached her, the presence that had always been watching me fled, faint hints of pain and sorrow floating down from their high perch. I wondered why.

    Still, there was not much room for that with the body in front of me. She was beautiful, with long golden-blonde locks and endless azure eyes, perfectly preserved despite the ages that must have passed. She looked just like me. A blade stuck out of her stomach, one that radiated such power it could cut me from a hundred paces if I wasn''t careful. God-Slayer the blade read. It was perfect, just what I need to topple that DAMNED EMPEROR.

    I struggled for a second, pushing down the emotions again. It was hard to control them here. In her presence, even dead as she was.

    Angelica an Erduk, the plaque on the dias read, progenitor of the Erduks, beloved of God.

    I raised my eyebrow at that, but immediately winced as I was struck with another wave of heartbreak and betrayal, and my own control shook precariously.

    I could feel the documents, within the dias, a strange mixture of ancient, those likely written by Angelica, and those much more modern.

    I wondered why someone would hide them here. Perhaps to hide them from that presence that always followed me?

    Still, this was not the time. I would come back later. Right now, I just needed to kill the emperor. And to do that, I needed that sword.

    I reached for the hilt, gathering my will and passion to prevent my hand from being shredded as I approached the hilt. With a final grunt of effort I managed to seize it.

    And was immediately whisked away.

    I saw my hand wielding a hammer, long blonde hair flying around my face as I worked. A man shaped cutout watched, and shouted encouragement. His presence was¡­ endless. He could end both me and Nero with a snap of his fingers.

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    He helped me, weaving laws so complicated I could scarcely comprehend their existence. The hammering began to shape the metal into something similar. God-Slayer. The blade I now held in my hand. I watched as it was finished in a flash of endlessness. And I watched as I yelled and screamed, and tried to justify slaying the man I loved. I felt the shift. The moment deliberation became commitment. There was no backing down. I watched as my strike obliterated space itself, only to be stopped by a single hand. I felt the heartbreak run through me at his expression, but my will did not waver for a moment. Even when my vision went dark.

    I gasped, opening my eyes to find myself floating in a dark space. At least I was in my own body. I stretched out my senses, finding the edge of this space. I could break it if I wished, but I was curious.

    A woman appeared in front of me, the same one the corpse in the vault belonged to.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead.¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes.¡± she replied.

    ¡°So, how are you here?¡±

    She looked at me with eyes that stripped me bare. ¡°You should know better than anyone. Death can¡¯t hold us. Not entirely. My soul may be long gone. But I have preserved a portion of my will and mind.¡±

    ¡°So why are you wasting it on me?¡±

    ¡°To warn you.¡±

    ¡°About?¡±

    ¡°You have felt him. Watching.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°He grows tired. Soon, he will wipe the slate clean and start again.¡±

    ¡°You mean¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes. He will wipe humanity from the universe. You need to stop it.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Ascend. Embody yourself to the point reality bows to you. Create yourself in the image of your path. And wield that sword. I designed it to kill him. Read the documents below the dais. They contain my insights, as well as those of a few other Erduks.¡±

    ¡°How do I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I must go now. Prepare for the worst.¡±

    In a blink, the reality around me shattered leaving me gripping God-Slayer over the corpse of Angelica. I pulled it out in a single moment, admiring the blade.

    In my hands, It could cut anything.

    I thought about Angelica''s words. I had never felt anything malicious from the presence. Just sad, and hopeful. But the conversation between God and Angelica was fresh in my mind.

    I would need to be prepared.

    But first NERO.

 40.4 - Mans Shattering

    Three days after he entered the chamber, he left with God-Slayer.

    He was curiously unaware of the passing of time as he slowly made his way back to the entrance. He made sure to spend a significant amount of time at each vault, drinking the life''s work of the Erduks. His walk to the exit, to the present, was like walking through history, seeing it brought to life before him. He saw great wars, and beautiful conceptions. Impossible breakthroughs and lonely mastery. He saw time in all its glory.

    And it changed even one such as him.

    When he left the vault, tilting his head up to face the rising sun, he was changed. It was subtle, nearly unnoticeable, but significant nonetheless. Before, his actions had been that of a child, pure raw passion, lacking understanding and guidance, now trailed hints of something deeper. Time had marked him with his own path, a winding road of passion and life, chaos and freedom. Time had shown him what the world had once been, free and true.

    He would not settle for less.

    From the top of the Mountain of Adam, he could see for miles, but he didn''t let it distract him. He still had his goal. He focused on a seemingly invisible point in the far distance. The sun glinted off his hair, making it shine like spun gold. His azure eyes outshone the open sky as he put a hand on the hilt of his new blade.

    Then he took a step.

    It was a physical step, yes. But it was also a step along his path. It was a step into the glorious future. Space tore before him as the light of his passions roared free, sending a chaotic mix of red and gold light dancing across the snow covered peak.

    The across then stunned faces of Nero and his high council.

    Nero started at Kyoko, with confusion. Then he saw the blade. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

    ¡°Council, you are dismissed. We will finish this later.¡±

    The council left without another word and Nero and Kyoko studied each other, each vivid against the plain white walls of the throne room.

    Nero frowned. ¡°You¡¯re different.¡± A statement.

    Kyoko controlled his rage for the time being. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°What is that?¡± Nero indicated God-Slayer.

    Kyoko stayed silent.

    Nero sighed. ¡°Do you know how much disorder and chaos you caused? It''s only been a week and the casualties are astronomical. Rebellions. Societal collapse. Was it worth it? The death of so many? To satisfy your petty revenge?¡± His crown began to shine. ¡°I take no pleasure in this, but you must be put down like a rabid animal you are.¡±

    ¡°Sacrifices must be made. I would expect you, of all people, to understand that.¡±

    ¡°Sacrifices for what? Your revenge? You would sacrifice innocents for some petty vendetta.¡±

    ¡°For their own sake. They are chained. I must free them.¡±

    ¡°Who are you to say such things?¡±

    ¡°I am Passion. I am life. And order has no place within it. Not your order anyways.¡±

    Kyoko took a step forward, trembling with the effort of restraining himself. ¡°Too long have we shriveled, denied the chance to truly be, our true selves suppressed under the chains of law. The chains of order. You killed my family before they could truly live. Now I live for them.¡± A crimson aura burst to life around him, as he released the last restraints on the rage within. ¡°NOW I BURN FOR THEM! AND I WILL BURN THIS EMPIRE TO THE GROUND¡±

    Nero pointed, crown shining like the sun, and stuck with a decree he had prepared in case of Kyoko''s return.

    ¡°Execute¡±

    It rushed at Kyoko in a symphony of death, an inexorable command of nonexistence. There was no escaping such a thing.

    So Kyoko, burning with passion and purpose, cleaved it in twain.

    Then he struck back.

    Wherever his blade passed, cracks were left in the fabric of reality. There was no blocking such a strike. And indeed, Nero rewrote his position in space to avoid it.

    It was a familiar battle, one of the calm river against the raging flame. Normally, the river held the advantage, the flame helpless in the face of its might.

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    But Kyoko burned, and he burned brighter. And brighter.

    Nero''s face was tight with effort as he struck back with laws, manipulating gravity and stealing energy to slow his opening, all while dodging every swing of Kyoko¡¯s overbearing blade.

    Kyoko grew faster, his strike more sublime as he sank deeper into his path, deeper into his passion. He was no longer merely a man. He was life, the ever growing, ever evolving, entity. He was passion, the fuel that drove men to impossible lengths. He was freedom, azure light the color of an open sky shining from his eyes.

    His next strike stuck like the truth of rage itself, an intricate weaving of life and passion.

    Its rage sunk into Nero¡¯s mind, costing him the second he needed to doge that terrible blade. He made his decision in an instant. His aura of order disappeared from his empire as he summoned his full power to himself and blocked the blade of rage with a shield of clam.

    Ripples of greater concepts sprung out from collison, and when they cleared, Nero stood tall, clocked in swirling streams of deep blue power, a counterpart of Kyoko¡¯s crimson-golden cloak. Kyoko roared, and they met in a sound like the world breaking.

    The throne room, even enforced by intricate weaving of law, couldn''t take one blow, and they soared to the skies, trading blows, both physical and spiritual.

    Nero, crown shining like a silver sun, matched Kyoko blow for blow, weaving order for his chaos and death for his life.

    They raged through the skies like a cataclysm, leaving broken chucks of the universe behind him.

    Finally, Nero had enough. ¡°Enough. This ends now.¡±

    He raised a hand and the destruction around them reversed in an instant, spatial tears closing up and destroyed structures rebuilding themselves. The deep blue aura around him ballooned and I could feel him struggling to keep himself from ascending on the spot.

    Still, at this point. He was more god than man.

    I felt him invoking the pure essence of his path, the full force of his will. This was a pinnacle strike, one meant to leave no trace of his opponent. The accumulation reached a peak and Nero raised a hand.

    ¡°Order is a command all things must obey. And you shall obey. Break.¡±

    He brought down his hand.

    There was no massive explosion. No immense destruction. To bending of natural laws. It was a command. An order. Directly to Kyoko.

    Kyoko roared, but his blade was no help here, or at least he knew not how to use it in such situations. He fell apart piece by piece, parts of himself giving into the command and destroying themselves bit by bit. He plummeted from the sky, roaring like an enraged dragon.

    Passion ignited to heights greater than ever before, turning to the sky crimson. But there was nothing to direct it against. In his desperation, he did the only thing he could.

    He narrowed his focus. A single blow would decide this battle. And he knew exactly what it would be, even in his rapidly breaking mind. Nero was the hand of tyranny, benevolent as he may be. And nothing slew tyrants more than truth.

    Kyoko would strike him with the truth of humanities origin, first seen in the river so long ago, and confirmed in the records of the Erduks. The truth of their chaos and life. Their passion and freedom. The world had been new, and all men were free to do as they wished. Free to die as they wished. And they had been better off for it.

    Kyoko abandoned his mind, pouring the entirety of his souls and will into the single segment containing the blow. It was truth. And Nero would see that.

    The second before Kyoko struck the ground, he swung God-Slayer, the full weight of himself behind it.

    The sky was cut in half.

    God-Slaying intent merged with a truth antithetical to Nero¡¯s very existence. He summoned shields of pure order, enforcing them with his will, but what was order in the face of chaos? What was a tyrant in the face of truth? What was man in the face of infinity?

    His shields shattered in the same moment. At the last second, he scattered his essence, but God-Slayer was forged to slay true gods, much less half ascended being.

    The world froze.

    Order shattered in a pulse that killed every person on the planet.

    And chaos rushed forth to supplant it.

    Then the crown of Nero, former Final Emperor and Apostle of Order fell from the sky.

    Kyoko blacked out.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

    I watched, horrified as my greatest hope for not one ascendant, but a nation of them was slain in a single blow.

    I roared out my fury in a frequency mortals could not sense. Maybe Kyoko would be able to if he was awake, if that cursed being had somehow survived. I wondered if I should strike down his unconscious for where it lay, but I restrained the impulse at the last moment.

    All around me, the Final Empire burned. The loss of Nero¡¯s calm and the introduction of Kyoko¡¯s chaos was driving everyone mad.

    I watched as it came apart at the seams, my creations slaying each other as the first failures had, oh so long ago.

    The void cried out in rapture, and I could no longer ignore it.

    I remember my fight with HER so long ago, how she had confronted me about my willingness to destroy humanity.

    I had replied, ¡°If they ever descended to the point where I was forced to destroy them, they wouldn''t be humanity anymore!¡±

    I looked down at the humans, no creatures below me, crying out with joy as they killed and raped. Destroying each other with pleasure.

    Were they still worthy of the title ¡°humanity¡±?

    I no longer knew.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    I woke to a city on fire, but that was not what concerned me.

    Far above, I felt the watcher struggle. The void of rage and apathy that threatened to consume him.

    It was winning.

 41 - To Replace the Heavens

    The time after Nero¡¯s death and the Final Empire''s collapse was, and I suppose still is, a time of war, and strangely enough, also a time of peace. The people war among themselves, slaying each other for the fragments of the Final Empire, and yet it is nothing in the face of what is to come. It is the light drizzle that rushes ahead of the raging storm. With every death, the void of rage consumes more and more of the watcher. Soon, I fear, he will break, and that horrid future my ancestor fought will come to pass. I need to stabilize the people, return self-control to the pools of life and passion they have become. Else I will find myself crossing blades with God himself.

    The universe burned. The people fought, igniting in explosions of passion and being. It was strangely beautiful, but this was not what I wanted. They had no purpose. No will. No path.

    The passion consumed everything like a raging wildfire. Perhaps only those with such purity as HER and Kyoko could bear such passion. These passion-wrought people were consumed to fan the flames higher.

    And so the universe burned.

    The void in me begged me to quench the flame, to start again.

    But with the last of my patience, I cradled the final sparks of hope.

    Perhaps they would manage to recover themselves.

    But now, the universe only burned.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------------

    Kyoko looked down at the central base of the rebellion from the air above. It was one of the few places intact after Nero¡¯s fall. I suppose their constant resistance to Nero''s aura reinforced them against such influences. Still, many struggled within their newfound bonds, lost to passion.

    ¡® Kyoko sighed as he sensed those people. He had not expected such a breakdown at exposure to his path. He supposed he should have. Very few people could bear such passion, but those that could would only be stronger for it. And indeed, the ones that maintained control felt like smoldering torches, ready to ignite into storms of passion and fury.

    As he touched down in the landing bay, he was immediately mobbed by a crowd of rebels, led by Xanthar, Leo¡¯s former second in command.

    ¡°Kyoko! What the hell happened! Everything¡¯s falling apart!¡± he roared over the clamor.

    Kyoko sighed. ¡°I did it, Xanthar. I slew the Final Emperor. We are free. I just didn¡¯t expect all of¡­ this.¡± He waved to the burning skyline in the distance.

    The crowd instantly went silent. ¡°You¡­ you slew the Final Emperor?¡± came a hesitant voice.

    ¡°Yes. No longer shall we live under the yoke of another.¡±

    The silence seemed to stretch on forever, until one small voice broke it.

    ¡°We won?¡±

    The crowd erupted into cheering and Kyoko winced as he saw passion begin to overtake even those that had originally resisted it. He immediately banished it from the citadel of the rebellion and let them celebrate.

    They deserve a break before what was to come.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    Kyoko and the leaders of the rebellion sat in a massive conference room, covered in holograms protecting scenes from other planets and galaxies. It was a nightmarish collage of burning skylines and warring people.

    The council was silent as they took in the chaos.

    Finally, Xanthar turned to Kyoko. ¡°What did you do?¡±

    Kyoko sighed, stroking the hilt of God-Slayer. ¡°I killed Nero.¡±

    Xanthar snorted. ¡°Well obviously you did something mor-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand what it means to kill someone like me or Nero. We are beings whose existence is fundamentally tied to our paths. To kill Nero, I had to sever order and replace it with my path. I supplanted him and in doing so supplanted order.¡±

    Xanthar¡¯s face was expressionless. ¡°With what?¡±

    ¡°With chaos. With passion. With life. With freedom. With myself¡±

    Xantehr squinted at the holograms before turning a skeptical gaze to Kyoko, ¡°They don¡¯t seem free, Just slaves to passion instead of order.¡±

    Kyoko sighed frustratedly, preventing waves of irritation from setting off everybody in this room. ¡°I know. The majority can''t bear my path, so they are instead enslaved by it. But still, the concept is sound. If you find the few that can bear it, you will find them more free than ever before. I¡¯m sure most of you here can attest to that.¡±

    There were some nods, and few smiles before Xanther spoke again, this time angry. ¡°We stand for freedom! We cannot enslave the people just to be free ourselves! That is the opposite of what we stand for!¡± He whirled to Kyoko. ¡°You need to reverse this right now.¡±

    Kyoko shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t. It''s a part of the world now.¡±

    ¡°You put it there! You can take it down!¡±

    ¡°It''s a part of me, Xanthar. I could sooner renounce everything that is me then tear that law from the sky.¡± Kyoko frowned. ¡°Besides, even if I could retract it, the backlash from erasing a law as strong as Nero¡¯s would likely produce a reaction of a similar caliber. I will instead be refining my path, and in doing so, the law. My path is far from complete, this whole fiasco has been clear on that. My path needs to reflect that.¡±

    ¡°And how will you do that?¡±

    Kyoko smiled. ¡°Study. There have been many fascinating people throughout history. I plan to study them. Record their greatest aspects, and integrate them within me. Our greatest trials are coming.¡± He lifted his head to gaze directly at me. ¡°We must be prepared for their arrival.¡±

    ¡°What trials?¡± Xanther question wearily.

    ¡°Now is not the time for that conversation. I want you guys to help restore order.¡± The irony of the statement was not lost on Kyoko. ¡°Start with this planet and spread.¡±

    He got to his feet, prompting the rest to do the same.

    ¡°We have work to do.¡±

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    As soon as Kyoko entered his apartment, he collapsed onto his bed. He was still hurting from his battle, but more crucially, he didn¡¯t know what to do.

    It had all happened so fast. His father''s death, the fight, the crown falling from the sky, the world going mad.

    And it was all his fault. Should he have just let Nero rule? The people seemed content under him. He immediately rejected the suggestion. The essence of his being would not stand for such speculation. Still, the collapse was his fault. If he had just been a bit more prepared, a bit stronger, he could have avoided it all, stabilized the people as their world was turned upside down.

    And now they faced imminent destruction.

    Kyoko turned his gaze to me, and I could feel his determination to protect his people. Whether by appeasing me or fighting me. I respected such determination, even as madness lurked on the edges of my vision.

    Then, Kyoko closed his eyes and slipped into a long overdue rest.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------

    The next morning, the universe was still on fire, burning only marginally lower for all those that had been consumed in the flame. The troops of the rebellion spread far and wide, desperately enforcing order upon the passion stricken masses. It was a nightmare, with even the rebels frequently losing grip of their passion and starting full on riots.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Still, even in the absolute loss of control, the power of Kyoko¡¯s path was viable. Burning with passion, men achieved things previously impossible. They survived wounds unsurvivable and defeated opponents undefeatable.

    It was still a disaster of unprecedented proportions, and tearing my gaze away from the heart wrenching damage, I focused back on my final hope.

    Kyoko walked the Erduk halls, trailing a hand on the wall almost reverently, taking in their majesty. Physically, the halls were nothing to scoff at, with swelling arches and delicate carvings, most lost to time. But the true worth of the halls was in its conceptual weight. Every square inch of those halls excluded more weight than most men will ever feel, saturated in the presence of paths beyond humanity.

    Those halls were truth and that truth was why Kyoko had come.

    He was hoping to find inspiration for his path in the paths of his ancestors. There are as many paths to the heavens as there are stars in the sky, and Kyoko planned to embody as many as possible.

    He started in the present, walking backwards in time as he traced the lives of his long-dead ancestors, starting with his father¡¯s vault. Here, deep below the earth, he didn''t bother maintaining the shroud he kept up for the mortals. He blazed with a passion far greater than the mortals that quarreled among the stars.

    And it was with that passion he began to study.

    Vault by vault. Paragon by Paragon.

    Time flowed like a river as he carefully read the contents of every vault, felt their essence and then integrated them into his path.

    His path evolved at a frightening rate, and among the stars, the people began to cool, the raging fire slowing to reveal the grim ashes it had left behind. The invisible weight in the air, that herald of passion, was changing. No longer did it spurn them to blind passion, but rather it taught them the beginnings of control of that passion.

    Yet it could not teach them mastery, for not even Kyoko had truly mastered his passion. So that cosmos still burned, even as its flames dimmed.

    Below the Mountain of Adam, Kyoko continued to grow, adding concept after endless concept to his path. At this point, his path was so heavy, so expansive, I didn''t know if even he could carry it to a higher existence. But still, he never hesitated, simply growing like a flower finally given the loving attention of the sun.

    He left Isabella¡¯s path with knowledge and the willingness to face anything, no matter the consequences. Jausn¡¯s granted him a cold awareness of his solitude, separate as he was. Adam taught him how to create, wielding nothing but will as a medium. Jorhan cut him with blades of searing light, and in doing so revealed the nature of the blade.

    Path by path, legend by legend, Kyoko grew. And as he grew the world above cooled, passion becoming tempered in understanding. It burned as fiercely as before, but now it knew where and when to burn.

    The people became snapped to awareness, only for the knowledge of the ash they had left behind to drive them back into passion wrought madness.

    Still Kyoko advanced.

    In the fifth year, he stood in front of the doors to Angelica''s room. I averted my gaze, unwilling to gaze upon her, especially in the state I was in. especially with what i was considering.

    Kyoko spent a full year in that chamber, with neither food nor water and I watched the results manifest themselves. Slowly at first, but then all at once purity rushed into his path, adding nothing, but refining it to a higher state. A state of not only power, but subtlety.

    To be pure was to be focused, to be committed. And with that commitment and focus, the last of those enslaved to their passion awoke.

    Awoke to a world of ash and ruins.

    The majority of humanity had perished in those years, and with it a large portion of humanities technology was wiped out as well. The last stronghold of humanity was contained solely within the solar system the resistance had once called their headquarters.

    It was ironic in a way. From one solar system to the universe then back again.

    Still, humanity had survived, but looking into their haunted eyes, I wondered if they could ever truly thrive again. I wondered if this would be the setback that broke them. They were on the verge of breaking, struggling with the guilt of what their passion-controlled selves had done and the despair from losing friends and family. Even with the reassuring presence of Kyoko¡¯s path, they were lost amid a sea of chaos. Was this humanities end?

    Thousands of light-years away, Kyoko left the Mountain of Adam and stretched out his senses to find not a human left alive. The homeworld had been hit the hardest by Nero and Kyoko¡¯s clash.

    Kyoko sighed sadly, accepting the blame for what he had done.

    His passion was controlled, but still, he was like the people above. Struggling with both guilt and loss, lost amid a sea of infinity.

    He didn¡¯t know what to do, or how to atone.

    So he stood atop the Mountain of Adam and basked in the light of the stars, letting their light and meaning caress him. Then, armed with only his old journal, he began another journey, this one around the Homeworld.

    Perhaps there he would find redemption.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------

    I had never stopped adding the paths of the mighty to the Homeworld, even when the greatest took to the stars. I don¡¯t know why. Perhaps I had hoped that even a planet might ascend if enough meaning was forced upon it. Never mind the reason, the result was that the homeworld was dripping with meaning, from the sun infused with Adam¡¯s love to the painter¡¯s creation infused river.

    It had gotten to the point where those weak of will could not stand the weight in the air. It crushed their minds and ripped their souls from their bodies. To Kyoko the pressure might have been a light breeze. But even he was taken aback by the density of concepts and laws in the air.

    The vaults had been the cumulation of the Erduks, the greatest lineage to ever exist. But even they paled in comparison to the sum total of humanity over the ages.

    Kyoko began to walk, not with any particular direction. He simply walked, drinking in the meaning in the air and setting to augmenting his path even further.

    I wondered what would become of him, if he succeeded in integrating all of it. The broader the path, the greater the creation required to elevate it. With a path that contained the sum essence of humanity, his ascension would be as hard as Nero¡¯s, even as a single person.

    Still, he forged on, drinking in truths that defined men as if they were no more than water. A truth of nihilism that drove a man to philosophy joined a truth of war that once defined a great general, both united in a raging sea of passion. Kyoko was an inescapable vortex, pulling truths to him as a tornado pulled dust.

    And the effects were noticeable. His path broadened and deepened at a noticeable rate and with every bit of growth the people in the stars stabilized further, basking in his lights. Kyoko had become the heavens, and the heavens needed to encompass all things, so he explored, and he grew.

    And the people thrived in turn.

    The years began to pass once more, the wheel of time freed from the steel grip of fear. Kyoko continued his growth, and the people continued their recovery, rebuilding what they had lost. It would likely be centuries before they recovered their former glory, but it was enough to send the void packing.

    Still though, despite the progress being made, the people were still lost amid a sea of collective guilt and sorrow. True forgiveness is a rarity, and those people were aware of it.

    Still, humans are truly resilient beings, and supported by Kyoko¡¯s growth, they were able to suppress it and continue forward in the rebuilding. Yet it smoldered within them like an unscratchable itch, whispering the truth of their culpability.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    Twenty years passed in blink

    Kyoko sat in the core of the sun, leveraging the full weight of his being to avoid being burned to crisp. Even he struggled here, not only because of the power of the yellow dwarf, but also because of the depth of the path it represented.

    Adam¡¯s love was as unfathomable as the day he willed it into being, the only path I have truly failed to grasp after all this time. The thought of HER sent a pang of sorrow through me, and I quickly refocused on Kyoko.

    I suspected Adam¡¯s path was one of the few things that could match Kyoko¡¯s purity and my proof was before me as Kyoko struggled, grappling with the indiscriminate endless love that had defined Adam.

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    Five years passed.

    The heavens were changing, this change perhaps the greatest since HER. They began to act upon greater emotion than mere passion. Passion is strong. As strong as it gets. It burns with untenable glory, searing all that dare encroach upon it. But it lacks the gentleness, subtlety of softer emotions. The soft contentment of a joyful day. The mild annoyance of a stubbed toe.

    They did not burn as passion does, yet they could just as much power.

    Adam¡¯s quiet love seeped into burning passion, and something greater was created. Something soft and gentle and all-encompassing. It seemed weak, but looking at his newfound path, I shuddered.

    I didn¡¯t want to know what would happen if that ignited. Passion burns bright, yes. But it is unfocused, even with Kyoko¡¯s purity and refinement. But with the guiding hand of love?

    I no longer knew what he was capable of.

    A quiet sigh heralded the completion of Kyoko¡¯s path, and a wave of love and forgiveness spread out, finding the specks of guilt and sorrow, and gently guiding the people through forgiving themselves.

    Kyoko stepped out of the star looking aged. I still don¡¯t know why he let his age show. Avoiding time¡¯s gaze was trivial for one of his power. But he embraced the age, and the wisdom that came with it. His long golden hair was less vivid and the corners of his eyes showed the first signs of wrinkles. Yet his azure eyes had only grown deeper and more unfathomable.

    There, standing in the void of space, he seemed to shine brighter than the burning sun behind him. Where he once burned greater than any star, his light was now calm, and yet it was brighter than it ever had been.

    And it continued to grow.

    And grow.

    And grow.

    For a second, I thought he was trying to ascend, but then he closed his eyes and exhaled, sending the light out in a cleaning wave.

    It spread through the cosmos like the light of a new day, revealing the possibilities hidden by the cold night.

    Morning had come, and it was time to heal.

 41.2 - Mans Second Shattering

    Time flowed like a river, striving to reach that endless expanse of the ocean, or in this case, the cold embrace of the void. Humanity, once more restored to their peak, began to expand among the stars, rediscovering old technology and making new breakthroughs of their own. Koyko acted as their shepherd, guiding them into the light.

    It was startling to see how much he had changed. He had used to be a raging flame, burning all that got in his way. Now he was an endless ocean, the ocean that contained all things. Like the ancient trade winds, he guided the people over that endless ocean of meaning, helping them find their own paths, their own identities. And for his service, they named him.

    Kyoko an Erduk, Herald of Dawn, Sage of the Infinite Sea.

    For a time, hope swelled within me and the natural resilience of humanity shone through, the disasters of the previous century only serving to augment their strength. The stars became their homes as they ran wild through the cosmos. The wonders of the universe bowed to those souled individuals, giving way to the infinities locked within them. It was the dawn of a golden age like nothing I¡¯d ever seen before.

    Alas, reality is not so kind.

    In the shadows, Xanthar er Narak watched with rage as the once shining star of the rebellion turned into naught more than another king. Another Nero. Another Final Empire. And he refused to accept that. Normally, upon recognizing the power that was Kyoko, no man would dare oppose him. But Kyoko¡¯s heavens brought out the passion in everyone, augmented their convictions and made them more of themselves. And it was with that weight of his being Xanthar set out to dethrone Kyoko.

    In almost every case, it was futile. Kyoko was far too powerful, and Xanthar far too weak. But as mighty as Kyoko was, he was not yet a god. He could not see everywhere, and Xanthar¡¯s small rebellion went unnoticed. They had a single hope, one they traversed the universe to acquire. Nero¡¯s crown, the container of the last remnant of his path, his power.

    I watched as they struggled to stay conscious through the sea of meaning the Homeworld had become, and I watched as they triumphantly seized the silver crown.

    Watching them journey back was nerve wracking. I wished I could interfere, warn Kyoko, but it was not my path. And for beings such as me, the path was everything.

    The fateful day came exactly 81 years after the collapse, as Xanthar and his cohort marched into Kyoko¡¯s apartments, still located in the original base of the rebellion. Kyoko had allowed himself to physically age, even though he never let time touch the core of himself. His long white hair hung in a simple pony tail as he frantically scrawled in that journal of his, as he had been doing for so long. I suspected whatever was in that journal had to do with his frequent visits to HER. He obscured with so much power that gazing into it would force a direct conflict between us.

    I had no wish to strike down my rising star before he ascended.

    The wide atrium they entered was massive yet empty, with naught but a simple desk tucked away in the corner. The one Kyoko was writing on.

    Kyoko looked up from his writing, a faint frown on his face, ¡°What can I help you with?¡±

    Xanthar amber eyes were dark and stormy as he replied, his black hair completing the look. ¡°This is your last chance. Tear your path from the heavens and leave, or face the consequence of your tyranny.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about, Xanthar? What tyranny? What do you think you¡¯re accomplishing with this? I don¡¯t even rule. I simply help wherever I am needed.¡±

    ¡°History has seen this a thousand times before, Kyoko. You can''t hide from its eyes. It''s only a matter of time before you declare yourself king. Oh, the people will cheer and think themselves lucky. But they don¡¯t know the horror of absolute power. It''s our job to make sure they never know.¡±

    Kyoko tilted his head. ¡°Who are you to deny the will of the people?¡±

    ¡°So you admit you plan to claim kinghood.¡±

    Kyoko sighed. ¡°Xanthar, the reason I will never claim kinghood is the opposite of the reason you came here today. Nero loved his people, more than you can imagine.¡±

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    Xanthar snorted. ¡°N¨C¡±

    Kyoko held up a hand. ¡°Let me finish.¡± Xanthar¡¯s mount snapped shut as if the universe had commanded it to. ¡°Nero could have been a god. Simple as that. A thought would have made him a being capable of creating his own universe. Creating his own life. But he didn¡¯t. He refused to leave his people. He loved them too much, so he smothered them, ensuring they lived safe, comfortable lives. He hid them from the horrors, and in order to maintain that status quo, he destroyed the few for the sake of the many. That where your conception of tyranny comes from¡±

    He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they burned with golden flame, mingling with the azure skies within. ¡°I love the people too, but my love is different. I don¡¯t want them to live safe, happy lives. I want them to live their lives. My path does not enforce foreign concepts onto the people, it merely draws out people¡¯s truest self.¡±

    He waved a hand at Xanthar. ¡°Look at you. Standing in the way of a demigod, solely because your morals tell you too. That is all you. I merely helped draw it out.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°So no. I will not claim kinghood. I will not be a tyrant. Does that settle your concerns?¡±

    Xanthar¡¯s scowled. ¡°You would keep the people from a safe and easy life?¡±

    Kyoko raised an eyebrow. ¡°That''s what you¡¯re focusing on? Alright. Xanthar, I stand for freedom in its highest form. The freedom to make mistakes. The freedom to live and the freedom to die. The people¡¯s choices are their own, no matter the consequences.¡±

    For a second, Xanthar hesitated, then his eyes hardened. ¡°Pretty words. Your actions were weighed and the course of action decided on long before your meeting. It matters not how you justify it, turn back from this path or suffer the consequences.¡±

    Kyoko sighed, ¡°What are you going to do, Xanthar? Use the crown.¡± He indicated the silver circlet of Xanthar¡¯s head. ¡°Who''s the king now? Besides, I slew Nero almost a century ago. And his crown is nothing without him. Face it, there is nothing you can do.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one thing.¡±

    Too late, Kyoko saw the thin thread binding the crown and a distant planet, the Homeworld. His pupils dilated. ¡°Are you insane!? That will kill you all!¡±

    ¡°Better dead than under the yoke of another king!¡±

    Kyoko reacted instantly, lashing out far beyond the speed of thought. But the speed of soul was instantaneous. He was too slow.

    Paths are wonderful, powerful things containing marvelous conceptions and expansive ideas. They can persist for an eternity, inspiring generation after generation of new people. But the inverse is also true. A single moment of transcendent glory. A rewriting of reality in the image of its path. Burning a single path is dangerous. A thousand conflicting ones?

    Madness.

    That¡¯s what Xanthar did. He didn¡¯t need to understand the paths to ignite them, but by borrowing some of Kyoko¡¯s passion from the heavens and fashioning it into a weapon, ironically using the very soul manipulation Kyoko had taught to the people. However, even with Kyoko¡¯s heavens augmenting his path, he never would have dared if he knew the scale of what he had just done. He had probably meant it as a threat, something to make Kyoko back down. He didn¡¯t know it was enough to wipe humanity out.

    I was numb as the Homeworld vanished, replaced by a ball of incandescent power that consumed everything in this way. The ignition spread along karmic threads, igniting all the paths I had set among the stars. The sum of humanity, the beauty of my creation, consumed in a single instant for a horrible moment of brute force.

    Kyoko roared, igniting his passion to its fullest for the first time since the completion of his path. Every mortal on the planet was instantly slain by his sheer presence, his heart bled, but he knew the sacrifice that was required to save the rest. With skill and precision that would have qualified anyone else for godhood, he wove a billion shields in the span of an instant, calibrating each to the specific flavor of power heading his way. The wave of power struck, and his shields, spread thin as they were, could not hold. They tore with a trillion sounds, sending fragments of meaning hurling through the void.

    Kyoko breathed in deep, and then he ignited.

    Golden soul flame roared off of him, shrouding the planet like a newfound sun as he mustered all the power he possibly could. Then, like a golden vortex, he absorbed them all back into himself, focusing his power to the utmost.

    There was no time for fancy weaving, no time for profound concepts. Kyoko bent space and stepped out into the void right between the wave of power and the largest cluster of humanity.

    Then he gripped God-Slayer, and channeling his power into it, he exploded.

    A raw expression of power, of passion that should have not been possible. Golden flames raced outward, sundering everything on a spiritual level. It hit the wave of power and destroyed it utterly. The humans behind Kyoko were also struck by that wave of power, their nascent paths severed and their spirituality stripped. Kyoko had managed to alter the wave to avoid outright killing them, but most had been completely wiped, reduced to mere animals until their souls managed to reestablish their spirituality and reconnect to their minds once more.

    Numbly, I stabilized the universe, wondering why I even bothered at this point.

    And just like that, the burgeoning golden age had ended.

 42 - Fury

    For a time, I knew not how long, I just stared in shock. Unable to believe what I had just seen. I had seen them prepare for such a thing, but I had assumed Kyoko would stop it.

    How had he missed it? Spotting and severing such a threat should have been trivial for him. What had happened?

    What now?

    Humanity was reduced to animals, and I watched as they ripped each other''s throats out, the perfect image of the earlier failures.

    Kyoko drifted in the void, struggling to maintain his consciousness.

    Why hadn''t I acted?  I was bound to my path, bound to the separation of divinity, but even I should have been able to intervene for an event of such scale.

    WHAT HAD HAPPENED?

    I began to tremble as the weight of what I had just seen hit me like nothing I had ever felt before. My creation had just been destroyed. Sure the physical remnants remained, but that was not my creation. It was the paths, the ideas that made it special, that gave it color.

    Now they were gone.

    WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?!

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    The void reared its ugly head and struck and this time I hardly resisted. Only a part of me hesitated, mind fixated on long blonde hair and piercing azure eyes. A laugh that brightened the universe.

    A fight.

    Over this very moment.

    Still, even HER memory could not hold me. Not after what I just witnessed. I would shred this universe down to atoms, and I would restart anew. This time, there would be no gentle guidance, no non-interference.

    If they didn''t want to ascend I would make them.

    At the last moment, a weak voice reached out to me.

    Wait.

    It was Kyoko.

    Don¡¯t do this.

    The majority of me ignored him, preparing, but a small part, the part that remembered HER listened.

    Please. We can rebuild. We can do better. I will do better.

    Kyoko looked old now, but when I looked at him, I couldn''t help but see HER.

    I hesitated.

    Why should I? Humanity has failed enough.

    Because we are your children. And we are begging you.

    I laughed at such sentiment, too little and far too late.

    Please.

    A futile at¨C

    The part of me that hesitated struck, binding my essence in a cocoon of law and power. The void, now me, roared, but that small part had struck in a moment of vulnerability.

    It couldn''t hold me long, maybe 10 years or so, but I resented the fact I had been trapped by a fragment of myself.

    Still, 10 years wasn''t long, and when I emerged, that part of me will be gone.

    Then there will be reckoning.

 43 - A New Heart

    I felt the watcher¡¯s will fail, I felt the void rush in to claim him.

    I was severely wounded, overdrawn, and struggling to stay conscious. Yet I could not just let him destroy all of existence. I could let him not slay my people. So with the last of my will, I reached out.

    Wait.

    I knew he heard me

    Don¡¯t do this.

    I was too overdrawn, too wounded to format arguments. So I did the only thing I could. O begged.

    Please. We can rebuild. We can do better. I will do better.

    The response came in a voice like the crack of thunder.

    Why should I? Humanity has failed enough.

    Because we are your children. And we are begging you.

    I felt him hover at the turning point and desperation surging through me, I tried one last plea.

    Please.

    I felt him decide, and knowing its futility, I prepared to ignite the last of my path. I would not die cowering. I would fight to the end.

    Then the watcher''s own power bound him in strings of immutable law. I felt his rage, but more clearly, I felt his love. It was a speck in the face of the void, yet it didn¡¯t hesitate as It struggled to buy me time.

    It reached out to me, voice gentle, loving.

    Hurry, child. I can only hold him for so long.

    Indeed I sensed the binding would only hold for a few years or so.

    But even that was a relief as I drifted off.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------

    I dreamt.

    A realm of gold stretched out before me, a sea of soul and power beyond my comprehension. I had seen things that appeared infinite, things that appeared eternal, yet at the moment, I knew the truth.

    Only this sea was eternal.

    Only this sea was endless.

    It felt familiar, and following that feeling, I found a few loose threads of memory, or more accurately, a few missing threads of memory. I traced them, bracing myself against the flashes of noise and remembrance.

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    A body hitting the floor. My body.

    Panicked voices, steadily growing further.

    Then the sea, the endless sea.

    The sea of pure being.

    I had reached out and touched it, feeling the power, the clarity, the purity rush through me, remaking me in the image of pure state of being.

    The sea had no name, no thoughts, no purpose. I simply was. And yet, as I touched it I knew. It was knowledge I had always known, just never recognized.

    It was not my time.

    So, basking in the sea of being, I wove a set of golden stairs.

    I rose higher and higher, reborn in infinity.

    I never looked back.

    Now I was back, stuck with that same awareness. It was not my time.

    I wondered how to escape this time. I could weave that same set of stairs, but It didn¡¯t feel right. The stairs already existed within me.

    No, I needed something new.

    I looked down on myself, taking in my wretched state. I was nothing more than a golden outline here, and yet I was covered in gaping wounds. I reached down, and cupping my hands, scooped up a portion of the golden sea.

    I brought it to my lips and drank, comforted by its warmth and stability.

    My wounds healed before my eyes, knitting my golden flesh back together into an unblemished whole.

    It was so peaceful here, so quiet. I could stay here forever¨C.

    I shook off the sweet siren''s call. I had a job to do, and a path to walk. I would not be tempted.

    I contemplated my escape, agonizing over every possible action. When it finally came to me, I was shocked I hadn''t thought of it before.

    What I needed wasn¡¯t a weapon nor a tool.

    It was a Heart.

    The soul is a thing of immense emotion. Yet the human mind is not capable of processing such depth. Passion is my power, and not even I can fully control it, once unleashed. Not even I can grasp its truth depth, not with a mere mind.

    Some things can only be felt.

    I got to work, spinning threads of being in the image of my path, in the image of myself. In a way, I was completing myself, creating the bridge between my soul and mind. I know not how long the work took, lost in it as I was. It could have been an instant or an eternity, but when I was done, I stood in front of my Heart.

    A true Heart, not the lump of flesh in my chest, a spiritual-physical gestalt, that would tie my twin natures into one.

    It was beautiful, a ball of golden light, flickering with the essence of my path.

    I took one last look around the sea of being, basking in its golden glow, before seizing the Heart and plunging it into my golden chest.

    For a second, nothing happened.

    Then my new Heart beat, and the resulting pulse ripped the realm around me asunder.

 43.2 - Merlin

    I awoke to excruciating pain, spasming as I became aware of an infinity of things I had never known before. Everything was deeper, richer, and not by an insignificant margin.

    The world I saw now was so different from the one I once saw I wondered how I could have ever been so blind. I saw the people, fighting and snarling like animals, and with a thought I reached out and quieted them. I could not easily restore their spirituality, that would need to wait until after I ascended.

    And my ascension was close. My Heart had been worthy of it, and as soon as I mastered it, I expected the final barrier to crumble like paper before me.

    I saw the watcher, god, bound in his cocoon, struggling furiously to escape. With my newfound sight, I could tell he would escape within a few years. I frowned. He would be a difficult opponent, even after I ascended. I had no confidence in winning, but I would not back down.

    Not when the fate of humanity hung in the balance.

    It was a daunting task, and for a moment, I felt lost, hopeless. I stretched my will out, scouring the universe for something, anything that could help me. Angelica¡¯s tomb was long gone, destroyed in the Homeworld¡¯s ignition, but the knowledge she had taught me would be invaluable.

    Still, I needed more.

    And I found it, in the form of a man I had long thought dead.

    I stepped through space, emerging right before a pair of violet eyes. Merlin was sitting at my desk in my atrium. The bodies of Xanthar and his fellow rebels were nowhere to be found.

    Merlin still looked like a young man in the prime of his life, but I knew better. It was honestly a miracle he was still alive, and I suspected it was only due to his body-soul dissociation. His soul was hanging on by a thread. He would not last another hour unless I interfered.

    I reached into him and prepared to stitch him back together, only to be opposed by power he should not have.

    ¡°No, Kyoko.¡± he said, ¡°My time is up. Do not prolong my suffering.¡±

    My shock at him talking overwhelmed even my surprise at being recognized.

    ¡°Why Merlin? I can save you. It will cost me nothing.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Not the cost that matters. I¡¯m done. I miss Beth. Being trapped in my own soul for ages was enough.¡±

    ¡°How did you¡­ get back?¡±

    ¡°That massive wave of spiritual power temporarily bridged the spiritual and physical. I was able to use that to jump back to my body. It took me a few years to deal with the trauma in my mind and gain back my cognition. Honestly, it''s all hazy. I wouldn¡¯t have even bothered, but I suspected you were behind this.¡± He frowned at me. ¡°Kyoko, what the hell¡¯s going on? That wave,,,¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I whispered, confirming his unspoken question. ¡°I managed to keep most alive, but they¡¯ve had their spirituality stripped from them. They¡¯re in a similar state to how you used to be. I can fix it, but not for so many, so I¡¯ve put them in stasis. Besides, we have bigger issues to worry about.¡±

    Merlin raised an eyebrow. ¡°What could possibly be more important than this?¡±

    ¡°The destruction of the universe.¡±

    ¡°What?! Did everything go to shit the second I left!?¡±

    I took a seat in the chair beside him and explained everything from the beginning. Father¡¯s death. The rage, the sword, and Nero¡¯s death. The fallout. The path I forged and the second breaking of the universe. My Heart. For those precious few minutes. I was a child again, explaining a particularly difficult problem to Merlin. I missed those days. He nodded along thoughtfully, as he always had. I had been so far above for so long. It was nice to see somebody that remembered my childhood antics. When I finished, Merlin lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

    When he opened his mouth to speak, I somehow expected him to have the answer. ¡°What the actual fuck!?¡±

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    Silence.

    Of all the things I had expected, that had not been one. I couldn''t help it. I started to laugh, and once it started, it didn¡¯t stop.

    Merlin looked at me irritatedly. ¡°Oh get over it. You¡¯re old now.¡±

    I only laughed harder.

    Tears came to my eyes as my laughter slowly transitioned into sobs. Merlin looked alarmed, and immediately, perhaps forgetting I wasn''t a young child anymore, took me in his arms and hugged me.

    His voice was soft. ¡°Are you ok, Kyoko?¡±

    It was my Heart. As a being of pure passion, control was of utmost importance, but my Heart had once more skewed the balance. The waves of sadness and trauma I was radiating could have overloaded planets full of people, but Merlin seemed unaffected.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I heard him comment through my tears. ¡°That''s a hell of a lot more powerful than when you were a kid.¡±

    ¡°Y¡­y¡­y¡­yeah¡± I stuttered, ashamed of my weakness.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Kyoko. We all have our moments. I used to break down every time I thought of Beth.¡±

    ¡°R¡­r¡­really?¡±

    He continued to babble meaningless words, soothing me like I was still a child. It was comforting to let somebody else care for once. Slowly my sobs tapered off.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    I sighed, finally in control once more. ¡°I don¡¯t know. The majority of my people just died and the remnants have been reduced to animals. The end of the universe is upon us, and I¡¯m not ready to face it. My Heart is out of control and I can barely control my emotions. I just don¡¯t know what to do.¡±

    Merlin started to speak but I spoke over him.

    ¡°Of course, I''m still going to fight. My conviction is powerful as always despite my unstable state. But I just don¡¯t know how to win. And if I fail humanity dies. I can''t fail my people again. I simply ca¨C¡±

    ¡°Kyoko!¡± Merlin yelled.

    I started out of my spiral, wincing. I was really losing control. How was I supposed to master my Heart in only a few years?

    ¡°Kyoko, you there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± I mumbled.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to do some emotional control exercises.¡±

    I let out an instinctive groan, recalling those boring sessions from almost a century ago.

    Merlin chuckled. ¡°Still hate hard work, eh. You know some of us need to work to achieve success.¡±

    I chuckled with him and sat down cross-legged on the ground, closing my eyes. For a moment, there was silence, then a deep, calm voice.

    ¡°Picture an endless surface of water.¡±

    The image came easily to me, more vivid than anything I had ever pictured before, my Heart making it simple to connect the visualization to its parent concept.

    ¡°Now let a steady stream of drops land in the middle.¡±

    A perfect drop appeared, a conception made real, and fell into the middle of the water.

    Then another.

    Then another.

    ¡°Watch the ripples spread, observe them one by one.¡±

    Time seemed to stop as the ripples rushed outward, disturbing the perfect calm.

    ¡°Now, one by one, remove the ripples, taking care to not disturb the other in the process.¡±

    Time passed as the ripples slowly vanished.

    Finally, I opened my eyes to see Merlin grinning down at me.

    ¡°Feel better?¡±

    I did feel much better. More controlled. And I sense a resonance from my Heart I had not sensed previously, one that seemed to connect to everything and nothing at the same time.

    ¡°Much better¡± I finally responded.

    ¡°When the problem seems endless, I like to handle it one piece at a time, one problem at a time. A thousand-mile journey is not finished in an instant. It is achieved step by step. Break down the problems, Kyoko, and I think you will find yourself more than enough to face them.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Merlin.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Anything for my boy.¡±

    We spent the rest of his time talking. It was absurd, the last two sentient beings talking in an empty universe, while god himself prepared to smite them.

    I asked him to stay, but he only smiled sadly.

    ¡°I am done, Kyoko. This is that last shred of my will. And this is not a simple matter of repairing my soul. I am old and tired. Even if you managed to stabilize my being, it would be a constant drain on your power. But mostly, I just can¡¯t¡± His smile slipped. ¡°I wish for nothing so dearly as oblivion. I was broken long ago, and I only want to see Beth again.¡±

    I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. But I understood. My Heart felt it. If I pressed, he would stay. But every moment would be agony. He just wanted to rest.

    I understood.

    Empathy is a curse sometimes.

    Finally, the time came for him to go.

    Tears filled my eyes, ¡°I¡¯ll miss you, Merlin.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Remember, step by step. You can do it.¡±

    And with that, he closed his eyes.

    I felt his soul leave his body, and acting on instinct, I drew on the power of my Heart and blessed the soul, willing him to find Beth.

    The last thing I felt before he left was peace so profound it shook me to the core. I suppose it was his last gift.

    And then I was alone.

    But now I knew what to do.

    And I would do it.

    Step by step.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

 44 - The Last Journal

    It is time. God will break out any minute now. It''s funny how the fate of such an ancient creation can depend on a single moment. What makes this moment greater than the sum of the moments that came before it? But I¡¯m rambling now. Either I perish or god does. Either the universe is saved or it is destroyed. The end has come. Or perhaps the beginning. Either way, one thing is clear. It is time.

    I lay down my journal, banishing it to the pocket dimension I created to store my stuff in and standing. If I only had more time, I could have created another universe and taken the people away. But the hungry void of God loomed above. He will not let us escape. I tilt my head up, facing his ravenous presence. I only have minutes left before he breaks free.

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    He is inevitable. He is all-mighty.

    He created this universe, and now he is coming to destroy it.

    He is God.

    But I am Kyoko.

    I am the Sage of the Infinite Sea. I am the last of the Erduks. I slew the Lord of Order.

    I am Kyoko an Erduk, the Herald of Dawn.

    And I will not let the sun set on this universe.

 45 - A Conflict of Ideals

    I burst out of my binding in a flash of power, scouring my mind for the last shreds of that rebellious shard. It was gone, annihilated, consumed in the scant few years it had managed to bind me.

    I scoured the universe, confirming the wretched state of humanity. They were still lacking spirituality, severed from their souls as they were. I could likely heal them, but it was simply easier to start again. To consume the last of them in a tide of endless power, and use their destruction as the fulcrum for a new creation.

    Humanity had failed me enough.

    It was time to raise another to take their place.

    It was strange, this apathy. I had watched over humanity for so long, guided them and prayed for their success. Yet as I reached out my will to destroy them, I found myself cold. And tired.

    But I was accustomed to failure, and wrapping myself in the separation of divinity, I commanded their end. It was an absolute decree, a thing of gods. It would have ended them, returning the remnants to me so I could use them to forge an even greater creation. Through death, life and through destruction, creation. The end of humanity had come, but it was merely the beginning of the next creation.

    The cycle continued.

    My decree echoed through the laws of the universe molding it to my will, carrying out my desires with unstoppable will. Only to be stopped.

    I watched in shock as Kyoko an Erduk manifested himself into existence and utterly crushed my decree. I hesitated for a second, doubting the truth my senses were whispering to me, yet the truth could not be denied. He was no longer a mere mortal. For the first time since the creation of my universe, a god had been born.

    My thoughts ground to a stop, shock rendering me dumb. I was¡­ not alone? I reached out.

    ¡°Kyoko. How?¡±

    He frowned up at me, and with a step, he appeared beside me, in my mighty palace outside of the universe. He still looked old, despite the timelessness of divinity. His long white hair was contained in a single ponytail and his clean shaven face revealed a tapestry of ancient wisdom. His eyes blazed with unconstrained passion, the golden fire overtaking the azure.

    And there, in the seat of my power, the True Void I had constructed the universe from, the voice of a god other than me rang out.

    ¡°I won''t let you end them.¡±

    I was taken aback by his sudden defiance, but perhaps I should have expected it from him. Yet it was absurd. Absurd that he couldn''t see. So absurd I laughed out loud, my voice booming through the emptiness.

    ¡°Who¡¯s them Kyoko? Those animals? Look at them. They have failed.¡±

    ¡°They are capable of great things. I know you have seen it. I have ascended. More can follow my lead.¡±

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    ¡°It''s not enough. I can take their remnants and use them to forge something greater. A species of love and compassion and power, created from the greatest pieces of humanity. Lacking the baser instincts of humanity, they will conquer the stars, and eventually, they will join us in the heavens.¡±

    ¡°My people are capable of all those things. Are they not enough?¡±

    ¡°No they are not.¡±

    ¡°Then what about this next species? What if they fail to meet your standards?¡±

    ¡°Then I will end them, and use their remnants to start anew.¡±

    ¡°And the next?¡±

    I was suddenly struck by a surge of deja vu, fragments of an argument from long ago coming back. Kyoko was achingly similar to HER, and standing before me, carrying the blade SHE had forged so long ago, he walked in her footsteps. I was struck with a sudden surge of sadness at the memory. Why couldn''t they see?

    ¡°Open your eyes, Kyoko. They are animals. Candles in the winds of time. And they shall remain so until they throw off the shackles of mortality.¡±

    Kyoko¡¯s voice was dropping too. ¡°But they can ascend. And that potential makes them more.¡±

    ¡°Potential? Their destruction has the potential to produce new thriving species. By stopping me, you are slaying all that would be born of their destruction. I am not merely doing this for the destruction of humanity, I am doing this for the creation new species¡±

    Kyoko fell silent as I chastised myself for my lack of control. I watched him warily, hoping he would see reason. The only worth of those under heaven was their potential to rise above it. If the remains of a crippled race needed to be consumed to create a greater one, then so be it.

    When Kyoko finally spoke, it was in a whisper. ¡°They are my people. I will not let you end them.¡±

    Slowly but surely, he raised his blade and pointed it at me. I manifested myself in physical form. I understood how I appeared to mortal eyes, a humanoid figure of infinity and power, swirling with hidden currents, a man-shaped window into something greater. My physical presence annihilated space itself, leaving us suspended in True Void. I peered at him with barely contained rage, struggling to keep my mind from slipping into a time long passed.

    My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. ¡°You would value the life of those animals over me? You would value these over the lives of those that would come after?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    No hesitation, no regret. He would fight to the end.

    Rage spilled out of me. ¡°Why!?¡±

    ¡°Because they are my people. And they deserve more than this.¡±

    ¡°They had their chance! It''s time to let another rise up!¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t stop me! I have been a god since before I created this universe! You would throw your life away for these animals?!¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I couldn''t help it. Old wounds reopened at the sight of his resolute face. Rage consumed me. And in a single instant it cooled down to endless sorrow, like a towering castle of cards tumbling to a flat pile. For so long I had waited for a peer, and finally one stood before me. And yet, his blade prepared to sever me. I didn¡¯t want to kill him, but as I scoured my mind and soul, I found no hesitation, only grim resolve.

    I would restore my creation to greater heights than ever before.

    I let out a sigh, ¡°Are you sure this is the path you want to follow, Kyoko?¡±

    He said nothing, merely shifted his grip on the blade.

    I chuckled bitterly, wondering how it had come to this. The void enveloped me in its cold embrace, consuming the last fragments of hesitation left within me. This would not be like my fight with HER.

    This time there would be no mercy.

    I struck at the same time as Kyoko.

 45.2 - Battle of Gods

    The Fist flew through the air, a perfect representation of the very essence of a punch. The void rumbled in its wake, groaning under its significance. It was a blow meant to conquer the very heavens, crushing them in an intimate embrace of death. Kyoko severed the blow in a single casual flick of his sword. An instant later he severed a million more, his sword a blur as it forged a cage of divine steel around him.

    In the instant it took him to fend of the heaven-crushing fists, I gathered my power and forged a bow, weaving god-slayer intent into an arrow that manifested on the string. I released it in the moment he severed the last fist, only to find it severed by that same blurring blade. I immediately manifested a mountain over Kyoko, pressing him down with the very concepts of weight and pressure and forged a thousand more arrows of god-slaying intent.

    That was my power. Creation itself. Destruction itself.

    The instant before my storm of arrows erased Kyoko from existence, his heart beat once, sending out a pulse that shattered the mountain and the arrows both, only to find my fist, covered in spiked armor, buried in his stomach.

    He rocked back, establishing the concept of space in every part of the True Void he touched. I slipped through time, though doing so was incredibly hard with Kyoko¡¯s presence fighting me, and overlaid two more blows in that exact moment I punched him, tripling the damage.

    Of course that was nowhere near enough, and blazing with passion and glory, Kyoko rocketed back, blade singing as it cut a path through the worlds I created to obstruct him.

    The second he cleared the last one, I struck him with a story, A story of a eons passed and the void unchanged. It bound him in black chains of time and immutable existence as I struck down with a blade forged in the story of a baby who had slain a king.

    He roared in rage, and igniting into golden flame, he severed the chains and met my blade with his own. We danced in the void, sinking deeper into the concept of the blade, opening up tears even in the True Void.

    Kyoko was strong, no doubt. Impossibly strong for a recently ascended being. But I was God and I had been refining my path for eons. As the battle continued I pushed him further and further back with creations of depth and sophistication. Worlds and the stories that defined them. Weapons created in the image of men long dead. It was an onslaught on infinity and Kyoko gave ground before it.

    He struggled of course, defending himself and lashing out with passion that made stars look dim. There was no sense to his movements, nor the laws his very existence willed into reality. He fought with nothing but his very being, and the sword his family had passed down for so long.

    But It could not last. I was eternal. I was the passing of eons.

    Passion may burn bright in the moment but even it surrenders to the cold march of time.

    All I had to do was wait.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------

    He struck with a million fists, and I shredded them to pieces.  A mountain brought me to my knees, only to be broken by a single beat of my mighty heart. Chains of time and immutability bound me, only to be sundered by my golden passion. His blade descended on my neck only to be met by my own. A scroll bound my movements in threads of causality, only to be severed with a single sword blow.

    I cut and smashed and sundered and severed but the onslaught never ended, only picked up in speed. Despite my blazing glory, despite my rapid growth, I was losing. He would just keep attacking me until I could resist no longer, and then he would turn to my people.

    The thought inspired enough rage to ignite my golden flames to ward off an approaching curse.

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    Still I was losing and we both knew it.

    Something needed to change.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    I pressed harder and harder, the instants blending into the much larger canvas of our battle. Kyoko had slowly but surely been pushed back and his defenses were beginning to lag. Of course throughout the battle, he had been growing at a terrifying rate. But he was not the only genius. I matched him, further tightening the inescapable net of fate.

    It was only a matter of time.

    ¡ª---------------------------------------

    I desperately searched for the gaps in the seemingly inevitable net decreeing my death. The gaps were frighteningly few, and every time I slipped through one, I closed up, forcing me to search for a new one.

    I didn¡¯t have long.

    I desperately wracked my brain for ideas and came up with nothing. The harder I fought the harder God fought. The more I grew, the more God grew.

    I was matched.

    Yet I refused to give in. If I had to die, I would do so on my feet, blazing my glory and passion.

    My attacks gained an edge at the thought. The most dangerous man truly is the one with nothing to lose. The threshold had been passed. There was no conceivable way to win otherwise.

    For a time, with that new edge, I managed to hold my ground, and then, looking forward into the threads of time and fate, I found the most miniscule of openings.

    Slipping through a world of divine poison and a blurring boy wielding a whip, I found myself with a clear shot at god.

    I didn¡¯t hesitate.

    The faces of my people ran through my mind, my father, Xanthar, Merlin, driving my passion and resolve to new heights.

    One step at a time, that was what Merlin had told me. Well the steps had all led here, to this final step.

    This was the end.

    And it was with that predestined end I struck, letting me and my blade become a vessel for the concept as I ignited my path for a single moment of pure power. It was with the full weight of my being I struck.

    Over the immeasurable distance that separated us, countless defensive weavings were brought into existence, from conceptions of stillness and strength to spirits of armor and shields.

    It didn''t matter.

    My blade severed them all, a thin line of gold rushing smoothly sliding through them all.

    For a second, I felt hope. Then, an immense sense of danger crashed over me, and my blood went cold.

    It had been a trap.

    I immediately swept god-slayer in a defensive stance, and roaring defiance, burned the last remaining shreds of my path.

    It was futile.

    God-slayer shattered like brittle glass.

    The last thing I saw was god, a burning golden line carved across his chest.

    My heart sank. He was still alive. I had failed.

    I was still mustering the will to defend myself when the rest of the attack struck.

    All went black.

    ¡ª---------------------------------

    God-slayer shattered in a sound like a woman''s cry, one that would have once brought me to my knees. The weaving of absolute destruction continued its rampage, annihilating Kyoko¡¯s hasty defense and striking him dead center. His broken body hurled through the True Void, the shards of god-slayer accompanying him.

    That last attack of his had been terrifying. I had barely managed to black the worst of it, and even the tiny remaining fraction had carved a golden line across my chest.

    It truly was a shame to end one such as him.

    Yet as I scoured my mind for hesitation, it refused to show itself.

    I was done.

    I would remake this universe. I would remake my creation. And perhaps someday a being would ascend, capable of seeing the greater picture.

    Until then¡­ I resigned myself to being alone again.

    I stepped through the non-space of the True Void and appeared before Kyoko¡¯s body.

    I raised a hand.

 45.3 - The Golden Sea

    I was back in the golden sea, running my hands through that unrippling liquid as it filled the wounds covering my spiritual self. It was amazing to me how calm the sea was.

    Did it not know that outside, gods were clashing over the fate of the universe?

    It was my third time in the sea, and once more I was struck with the realization I had always known.

    It was not my time.

    I wondered when my time was. If not now, when?

    I was struck with a sudden impulse, a desire to see the truth of the depths. So, I released my hold on the surface and let myself sink into the depths.

    For a time, I don''t know how long, I simply sank, with nothing but the growing pressure to accompany me. It was not a physical burden, nor was it willfully exerted. It was the simple weight of the sea¡¯s existence, pressing down with infinite significance.

    I felt myself being compressed to a single point, and I let it happen. My purity, my focus, my concentration, had always been my greatest power. The single minded focus and awareness that drove me. Yet, in recent years, I had found my purity weakened as I assimilated more and more into my path. As I took more and more upon my back. I had grown so much.

    But now it was time to return to that origin.

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    That first spark of consciousness in the mothers womb, when I was all that existed in the world. When my thoughts were fully my own, untainted by the dust of the mortal world.

    It was time to return to the simple truth that had once defined me, before I had grown so expansive.

    I am.

    The sea compressed me, showing me how to converge the entirety of my being to a single point, showing me how to converge the entirety of my being to that instantaneous instant of awareness. I wondered how deep the sea went. I was reaching my limit and I could not even be sure there was a bottom. If a god could not walk the depths, what could?

    Finally, something clicked.

    I awoke from my long slumber, awareness bringing me to consciousness. All my worries slipped from my mind like the remnant of a half-forgotten dream.

    There was no past, no future, only me.

    I burst from the sea with the joy of a child flying for the first time. I tore a hole in the sky with my own two hands and threw myself through with boundless laughter.

    For so long I had shackled myself with worries and burden, tied myself down with chains of duty and responsibility.

    But that was not my way.

    I stood for freedom, and it was time to be free.

    God''s hand descended with unmatched force, brimming with concepts of annihilation.

    I caught it. How could anybody but me destroy me?

    Gold overtook my azure eyes and golden light began to shine from my body, obscuring my once frail form, which now brimmed with youthful vitality and joyous laughter.

    I threw god away, and then laughing, I exploded with golden light.

    For the first time, I allowed my true self to shine to its fullest extent.

    And it was glorious.

 45.4 - Seeing Behind the Veil

    He caught my fist in one hand, ignoring the annihilation laws as if they weren''t even there. I watched in horror as his azure eyes turned golden and golden light began to radiate to his once-more youthful body.

    His tanned muscles flexed and his long golden hair flew in an invisible breeze as he laughed. He threw me away with another laugh and I watched in shock as he became burning golden light.

    I reached out, trying to make sense of this terrible new power, and came to a realization. It was all him. All Kyoko. Simply unrestrained for the first time. Concentrated to a single point.

    I gathered my power grimly, preparing to unleash everything I had.

    Then he was before me.

    I barely avoided the first blow, observing how it shattered the True Void in its wake, revealing something beyond. Something that felt familiar.

    I was forced to drop the train of thought as Kyoko continued his assault, wild laughter ringing out. He struck out like a mortal, attacking with physical attacks that should have been useless. Yet I found the shadow of death in his fists.

    He did no fancy weaving. Concepts attached themselves to him, drawn by his passion and very existence. I danced in the eye of the storm, barely keeping myself afloat, desperately grasping at anything that could keep me afloat a little longer.

    My mind kept drifting back to that empty sensation from the holes in the True Void, and I finally pinpointed the familiarity. They felt like the void within me, that endless hungry sensation that was never satisfied with what was.

    It wanted more.

    I wanted more.

    I watched as it devoured Kyoko''s attacks, inviting them across the threshold of the True Void and then consuming them with feverish intensity.

    When Kyoko¡¯s next blow came, I didn¡¯t dodge. For the first time in my existence, I felt pain. But I preserved, letting the void consume me, becoming the destruction I sought to bring.

    After all, to create, one must first destroy.

    His next blow hurt less.

    The next less.

    Eventually, they stopped hurting at all.

    I raised an arm, and blasted Kyoko back.

    For a time, we simply stared at each other, taking in our transformations.

    A figure of golden light faced one of black void.

    Then, we moved and the battle began anew.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------

    The artistry of the early battle was long gone. Not intricate weaves or complicated attacks defined our dance. No, we had embodied concepts beyond those that could be woven.

    And they were what we fought with.

    The golden light of being met the black void of destruction.

    The last hope of a dying race met the mad creator hungering for destruction,

    It was glorious.

    Bleeding chunks of my essence were sent careening through the void, stabbing pain accompanying their loss. I just laughed, no longer worried about such things as life or death, loss or victory.

    I was beyond them.

    And laughing, I dove right back into the battle.

    ¡ª-----------------------------------------

    I was hungry.

    Ever so hungry.

    I wanted so much.

    I wanted it all.

    I wanted peers who would accompany me.

    I wanted to reforge my creation in the knowledge I had gained over the eons.

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    I wanted my people to thrive.

    I wanted the golden light that lit up the void.

    But the more I consumed, the more I destroyed, the more it burned.

    But I kept consuming.

    What else could I do?

    ¡ª-------------------------------

    Time became immaterial as we battled, second stretching to eternities and

    years becoming instants.

    I danced.

    And the void lit up in golden applause.

    ¡ª----------------------------

    Pain.

    He was winning.

    The end was near, I could feel it.

    I wondered what was on the other side.

    Would I see her again? Would I see Angelica again?

    ¡ª----------------------------

    I was beyond time, and yet I felt the moment.

    Everything I was became a single blow, igniting in passionate glory.

    God burned his void, letting it consume itself in an effort to meet my attack.

    It was no use.

    There were no ripples as I flicked a small golden marble at God.

    The very same ball I had learned to condesce under the weight of the infinite sea.

    It did move fast, yet it was inevitable.

    The void, commanded by God, reached out to crush it with the power of one who had created the universe.

    It was no use.

    ¡ª------------------------------------

    I cast aside more of the void, letting it consume itself in a desperate attempt to stop the speck of gold.

    It was futile

    When the golden speck crushed the last of my void, I was left as I was before.

    Sad and tired, watching my end inevitably approach.

    It''s funny. It was only in my last moments that I remembered my first.

    My mind rushed through the annals of memory, passing the years of humanity, passing the eons of failure, even surpassing the eternity of creation.

    I remembered my first moments, the awakening in the eternal void, the last echoes of foreign words slipping from my mind.

    For not the first time, I wondered where those words had come from.

    But for the first time, I felt I could reach them, the elusive shadow in my mind solidifying into something tangible under Kyoko''s attack.

    The golden speck reached me, setting me aflame in golden essence.

    It was excruciating, but it only heightened my clarity.

    It was like a barrier in my mind, one second there and the next gone.

    Memory rushed back to me like an inescapable tide.

    And I remembered.

    I was Rashek Eteral, Hero of Ages, Crown of the Endless Sky.

    I had conquered the endless sky, taking it in one hand.

    I had summoned the nine blades of the immortal, and struck down the Last Despot.

    I had watched as my people burned under the gaze of a jealous god.

    Wielding the Crown of Eternal Blue, I had challenged the Sovereign.

    And I had won, though it cost me everything.

    Now I was God, the sovereign, perishing under the righteous crusade of one who, in another time, could have been my brother.

    I remembered the Sovereign''s last words as he struggled to hang on for another second. A rueful, sad chuckle. Then, he had looked up. ¡°I¡­ see¡­ you.¡±

    So, burning up in golden flame, I looked up.

    And, I saw.

    He towered over everything, a size I could scarcely comprehend, a power that would extinguish mine with a thought. I was an ant in a cycle, observed just as I had once observed the humans under me.

    And Kyoko was the next link, succeeding me just as I had succeeded the Sovereign.

    I laughed then, a sad rueful chuckle, ripe with self-pity.

    Then perhaps In a futile attempt to assert my existence, as a futile attempt to prove I had truly existed in the first place, I gathered the remainder of my power.

    And spoke.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ you.¡±

    I thought I saw him nod before the flames consumed me.

    All went black.

    ¡ª--------------------------------------------

    My flames consumed him, worming into the heart of his essence as he dumbly tilted his head back and smiled ruefully.

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­ you.¡±

    Then, God, creator of the universe, lord of all creation, perished, burned up in golden flame.

    I floated in the void in disbelief. I couldn''t believe I had done it. My singular being had abandoned me in the ignition of my path, and I could tell it would take time to repair.

    But I had time. All the time in creation.

    I was God now.

    I wondered over God¡¯s last words, a seed of fear appearing as I considered what they could mean.

    Slowly, hesitantly I began to turn my head towards the point God had died staring at, wondering what I would see.

    Then the void began to shake.

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------

    The Endless Sky welcomed me as It always had.. With knowledge I had always known.

    It was my time.

    And, finally, after all those eons, I let go.

    It was time for another to take my place.

    The cycle would continue.

 46 - The End and The Beginning

    The void roiled like a stormy sea, reeling from the death of God.

    Horrified, I rushed to the universe and found God¡¯s last wards dissipating in its face.

    I slipped into it, and with the last shred of my power I pushed outwards, struggling to keep the universe from crumpling like a tin can.

    It was no use, and I watched in horror as I lost more and more ground, weeping as the void swallowed more and more of people.

    I felt like an ant, trying to resist the closing fist.

    For all my power, everything I had become, I was helpless as my people perished one by one.

    Finally, it was just me, sitting cross-legged in a universe barely bigger than me.

    I held on for as long as I could, but in the end it was no use.

    The last of the universe collapsed and the void rushed in with deliberate force.

    Almost as if punishing me for the damage that had been wrought during my battle.

    Nothingness took me.

    ¡ª----------------------------------

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    An eternity passed.

    Then another.

    Then another.

    Slowly, the void stripped me of who I once was.

    I wondered if this was what Merlin had felt in that time chamber before even his memory was taken from me.

    More eternities passed, until all that was left was my awareness.

    Then, even that began to fade.

    Finally, countless eternities later, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

    ¡ª------------------------------------------

    I awoke in darkness, the last echoes of a voice spilling into infinity. Nothing but void for as far as I could sense.

    My existence was new and I knew not what was possible.

    I knew not who I was.

    Only what I could be.

    For a time, I struggled in the void, building myself from the fragments of infinity found drifting in cosmic winds.

    Awareness bloomed in my mind the second the last piece slid into place, and I found myself manifesting a physical form, a curious shape with four long limbs. I frowned, a sense of loss overcoming me as I observed myself.

    I chased it, suddenly desperate to seize it, but it eluded me like a shadow fleeing from the light.

    Strangely, that thought slowed it enough to grab the barest fragment of it before it fled into the depths of my soul like a thief in the night.

    And then, I knew and shaping awareness into words, I spoke.

    ¡°Let There Be Light¡± I commanded.

    And lo and behold-

    There was light.