《Six Fathoms [Sci-Fi/Eldritch Progression Fantasy]》 1 - The Bold Mans End The day the last human emperor perished, the universe breathed its first sigh of relief. Then it wept, for while its tormentors were gone, so were the only stewards of order. I still remember that day¡ªthe day the stars lost their light and the waters of Phlegethon took their place. One last job. Dante loathed such boasts and phrases. They were signs of bad luck, misfortune, and death. Nine times out of ten, it ended in the speaker¡¯s untimely demise. The others? They always screwed him over. Without fail. Why? Because he was human, and in his own words, ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody liked a human in a thousand Standards.¡± They still watch his people¡¯s shows, read their books, and even name their kids with the names of his kin. The largest remaining empire even modeled itself after one of his ancient ancestors. But nobody cares for humans like me. Once more, Dante¡¯s former allies sentenced him to die and left him with only one heated body by his side, proving the brutal truth. The worst part? Translators could seldom understand that last man. After a kinetic round of depleted uranium lodged itself in his leg, Dante dragged himself around a box of smuggled goods meant for the Reikshi Sector of the Wings while bullets riddled his cover instead of his crewmate. He never asked what the goods were or what they were for. He checked them, sure, but just a quick once-over. And with some things... he let Damen do it all. This time... he cursed that he hadn¡¯t. Beside him, crouched behind the overturned steel of their dinner table as kinetic and electromagnetic rounds flew overhead, Dante cursed at one of his so-called partners, ¡°Fucking Rejo. You gonna turn tail, too?¡± The Araki, with his blood-red skin identical to those of demons from Dante¡¯s books as a child, chuckled with his head bouncing jarringly against the box. Shaking his flapping mouth tendrils, the alien from a million light-years away nodded toward Dante¡¯s wound. Their brain chips translated the conversation, as neither knew the other¡¯s language while the alien spoke, ¡°Not my style, ¡®Uman. Too ¡®uch ¡®oney on the line. You gon¡¯ be fine? I¡¯d already croaked if I ¡®ad uranium in me.¡± Dante exhaled with a stinging pain while reloading his revolver, annoyed by the imperfect translation¡ªArakis were too rare for perfect calibration. The man racked his brain in thought, ignoring the agony and frustration as he crafted a plan for survival. Others panic in such situations. Dante¡¯s brain sped up, and his heart turned cold. Like the enduring roaches that outlived the rest of humanity¡¯s history. The cold metal beneath him, that of the Starsinger, mirrored his heart: cold and calculating. ¡°For now. Slow death¡¯s curse. Next move is to make it to the Skull. I think the Captain we hired¡¯s already eating stardust. I could set us into a dive for a nearby planet, but I need time,¡± he closed the revolver¡¯s specialized cylinder with a sharp clasp. It was the same weapon his father had given him¡ªthe one that led him into this trade. Rejo¡¯s mandibles clacked in response, the eight sharp tendrils of chitin dancing across his mouth. He checked his weapon. Its coils were already hot, just like the Araki¡¯s spirit as he shouted, ¡°Sounds ¡®ike a ride! I¡¯ll lead the ¡®arge, then follow with your ¡®um leg!¡± Rejo, as expected, agreed to the assault on their own ship with brief hesitation. Dante scoffed. There was a reason Rejo was here instead of back on his backwater planet. Unlike the rest of his kind¡ªpeaceful agriculturalists¡ªRejo was an adrenaline junkie with a penchant for exotic firearms. Critical in times like these, though it had gotten them into trouble before. The ¡®reddy¡¯ never thought before he acted, and this attack was no different. However, amongst all those Dante had ever worked with, he did trust Rejo the most. The man idolized him, and Dante knew it. Dante dashed out first, well aware that Rejo had no clue how to navigate to the ship¡¯s Skull. Projectiles, beams, and radiation streaked toward the rear of his frame as he sprint-limped across the circular room to the hallway. Without looking back, he fired off shots, the implant in his head honing his already prodigious skill. Four bodies hit the ground before his cylinder hummed empty. Twisting around the corner, something warm and wet spread across his stomach. Dante¡¯s back slammed against the wall as his breath came short and wheezing. He shook his head, fighting to clear it. Can¡¯t die now. Can¡¯t. Won¡¯t. I still gotta¡ª Rejo snapped Dante¡¯s eyes to focus on the chittering sound of his translated voice, ¡°Dante? You don¡¯t ¡®ook well. Sure you¡¯ll ¡®ake it to the Skull?¡± Dante nodded, confident in his temporary survival, ¡°Yeah. Now stop asking¡­ Just a little further¡­ I¡¯ve got a present for Damen¡¯s nasty friends.¡± Dante unclipped a round object from his belt with bloody fingers, the leather, and flesh beneath scorched from a laser strike. Thankfully, most creatures were terrified of augments, so only one hit him because of their shitty inaccuracy. Their bodies often rejected such things. Humans? Some pills will cover it. There was nothing like the human body or the experiments their scientists once did to further their kind. While Dante wasn¡¯t a Martian, the subspecies of man nigh unkillable by anything less than large ordinance, he was one tough bastard with his implants. But Dante wasn¡¯t thinking about that¡ªnot even about the woman who did this to him¡ªas he tossed the fragmentation grenade down the hallway, limping toward the Skull, now only a short distance away. Instead, the smuggler, bounty hunter, and bleeding-out body cursed his shitty luck over this package. Damned Desnovians. Pay me a hundred thousand credits to transport Dirge material!? That¡¯s a fucking job for a Seafarer, not me or my crew. At least offer ten times the rate! Dante¡¯s thoughts swarmed with curses and anger. He wasn¡¯t qualified for this. He wasn¡¯t supernatural¡ªjust an experimental human. I ain¡¯t special. Can¡¯t warp time. Can¡¯t come back to life. Fuck, I ain¡¯t even as tough as my old man. I¡¯ve got an hour, maybe two, without seeing a Medrack. Let¡¯s hope Rejo and I are fast enough. The augments in his knees pushed him forward, tiny embedded steel and springs driving flesh step by step. Gunfire and echoes of a swift battle rang out from the attackers, ending the few who weren¡¯t awake before chaos struck. The sounds beat against the featureless gray walls as the two ran harder than ever before. Thankfully, the Araki sensed the ambush before they reached the next turn, ¡°Look ahead, Dante! ¡®Ive on the right.¡± Dante nodded to his partner. The past thirteen months they spent togetherbuilt trust that, to his surprise, was unbroken by greed. So, he flipped his revolver over, reloading as he limped forward. The human stole the first step around the corner, aiming for shock and awe. With adrenaline steadying his bloodied hands, Dante greeted his five ambushers with a deathly smile, ¡°Behind you!¡± The Gorshars, with their tusks and dark skin, barely registered his words, but his trickery bought him the fraction of a second he needed. Fanning the revolver, he shot two chunks of lead into each of the three Gorshars, piercing their armor. Screams of pain and anger filled the air before Rejo blasted one of the Gorshars¡¯ brains with captured lightning, then slammed his recharging weapon into the last attacker¡ªagain and again. Rejo howled at the body long after it ceased moving, ¡°Die ¡®astard! ¡®Eah! Hawwh...¡± Tangerine-colored blood flooded the gray hallway, reminding Dante of childhood and the sweet taste of fruit. Wooziness gripped him for a moment before the taste of blood in his mouth snapped him back to reality. ¡°Focus, you dimwit! Control yourself! Follow me! We have little time before whoever paid for Damen¡¯s betrayal shows up,¡± Dante hauled the Araki off the body, barking orders to get him into line.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Dante pressed one hand against his unburnt wound to staunch the bleeding. Meanwhile, the other reloaded his revolver with swift precision, inserting the specialty rounds. He cursed his luck under his breath, uncertain of his future. Fuck. If we don¡¯t get this ship into the Lightsea soon, we¡¯ll have a hundred more of them to kill! I swear, after this, I¡¯m getting a new crew. Maybe I¡¯ll fly the ship myself instead of paying for a pilot. Rejo¡¯s a given, though. Might even give him one free betrayal pass after all this shit. As they neared the Skull¡ªthe heart of the Starsinger¡ªthe walls shifted into interlocking plates with sealed doors on either side. Voices echoed in Dante¡¯s ringing ears as he hinged the corner. ¡°Get us the fuck out of here! You have a live Godspawn onboard!? I thought it was a Qualae in an Immortal Corpse!?¡± Panic locked up the augments in Dante¡¯s legs. His bloodied hand gripped the back of Rejo¡¯s armor as the mechanical enhancements shrieked in protest. Yet his mind stuttered worse than his failing internals. A Godspawn. A Stareater. A Dirge. A living Qualae. Those words echoed without a sound in Dante¡¯s mind. The last time he¡¯d heard of a Stareater¡­ his father didn¡¯t come home. His bloodied hands trembled with emotions too powerful to put into meaningful sentences. Rage. Excitement. Confusion. Horror. And greed. Weak Godspawn, Dirge, whatever one would call them existed, of course, yet no one would smuggle them like this. Those, most often dead or captured, would be transported with small containers. Whatever was in here was strong. Very strong. Rejo whispered to Dante, his tendrils flapping in fury and bewilderment at the human¡¯s actions, ¡°What are you ¡®oing? They ¡®ave a Godspawn! This is our chance to strike it ¡®ich! No more smuggling! We ¡®ould both be Seafarers in no time!!¡± Dante scoffed at Rejo¡¯s reasoning but didn¡¯t shut him down. Everyone knows there are no bounds to human greed. But even humans at the height of their power were wary of these space leviathans He released Rejo slowly, warning him with every inch as he said, ¡°If we survive, maniac. I¡¯ve been doing this for ten Standards, since I was sixteen. There¡¯s nothing more dangerous than dealing with Qualae. They¡¯re the Devil. We¡¯re better off turning tail and running.¡± ¡°You ¡®umans and superstition. They¡¯re just ¡®igher dimensional creatures. Nothing we can¡¯t ¡®andle or haven¡¯t before,¡± Rejo said as the mighty ¡®reddy¡¯ strutted forward without fear, beckoning Dante to follow. While the Araki was right¡ªthey had fought dimensional entities before¡ªthey¡¯d never dealt with anything from the Lightsea. That was a different beast. The strongest kind. Even their weakest were fatal in most encounters. Dante and his ¡®superstition¡¯ halted at the corridor¡¯s edge. His body shivered¡ªit was the coldest he had ever felt in his life. Not even the virus he survived as a kid compared. Nor when he endured six gunshot wounds two Standards ago. Nothing compared to this. Then he realized¡ªthis was the moment¡ªthe moment that could change everything. He wouldn¡¯t be just another smuggler anymore, moving cargo in constant fear of opposition, hiding from the Empires¡¯ investigations into his race. Sure, he was skilled, but even a human was powerless against many forces in the galaxy. He had once seen a woman turn a town-sized starship into a ball the size of a fist with flowing waters. It all started with the Dirge of the Lightsea. Well, not with them, but they were the strongest and most prevalent of the interdimensional beings. Their dimension was the largest and most terrifying that existed. The Qualae harvested from their bodies or eggs gave Dante hope¡ªa future with no set destination but one far better than his current life. And so he scrambled after Rejo, ignoring his lethal wounds. Humans were tough, arguably the most resilient species in the cosmos to occur naturally. But there were limits. Blood loss, shock, and organ failure prickled at the edges of his mind. Reaching into his pocket as his eyes scanned the Skull¡¯s surroundings, Dante stopped to tend to his wounds. He pulled a syringe from his coat and injected pure adrenaline into his veins in tandem with a dozen other chemicals that would¡¯ve put someone like Rejo down within seconds. He needed that boost to stand a chance against the woman waiting for him in the next room. A long box, etched with unknown words and sigils, sat in the center of the Skull, surrounded by chairs and screens. The open window to the cosmos, showing featureless space, loomed behind Damen and his lackeys¡ªtwo of whom Dante once would¡¯ve trusted with his life. Keyword: trusted. The Gorshar, in Dante¡¯s muddled mind of greed, hatred, and confusion, pivoted to face him, momentarily stunned by his condition and Rejo¡¯s sudden arrival. He pointed at them both, shouting for Yesha and Ide to kill the attackers. Before diving for cover, Rejo spewed forked lightning from his weapon at Ide, a Gorshar much like Damen. Meanwhile, the chems boiled in Dante¡¯s blood. Time seemed to slow, his pupils dilating, his hands steadying with unnatural firmness. It had been months since Dante hadn¡¯t felt the shake. He hated it. But sometimes... There were too few ways to survive than cheating. Yesha spun the barrels on her rifle, aiming at Dante¡¯s brow. He would admit that few shooters in the outskirts of the stars were on his level. This Irgen, with her lithe body and scaled tail, was one of them. Nevertheless... Dante was a cheater. Anything to win. Anything to survive. Anything to reach the center of the galaxy. Anything. Absolutely anything. He would degrade himself, ruin himself, and even push himself to the razor¡¯s edge of oblivion. Why? He oft asked himself that very question. Yet, he had no solution to such a complex equation. Dante¡¯s revolver rose with such swiftness that Yesha only fired one shot in response. His augments alongside the drugs overpowered his blood loss and injuries. As a result, the Irgen woman collapsed to the ground, twin holes in her eyes. Dead. A projectile slammed into Dante¡¯s left side, tearing away a chunk of his flesh, but he didn¡¯t slow. Step by step, he advanced on Damen while Rejo kept the other former ally occupied. He should¡¯ve known better. Friends were never easy to come by. Friendships, lasting ones, were formed by debts of blood, life, and inexorable circumstances. All those on this ship, except for one, received payment instead of companionship. Money meant little to one¡¯s lifeblood; seldom would someone not turn to the highest bidder. At least he still had Rejo, the strange Araki, who possessed a dozen first names and a barely comprehensible accent. With a gasp of desperation, Damen reached for Irgen¡¯s rifle, but Dante shot his left hand before he could get close. Then, careful not to kill the cowardly rat, he smashed Damen¡¯s skull with the handle of his revolver. Bones cracked in the air as thick orange fluid leaked down his grayish skin. Damen damn near pissed himself, throwing up his hands in dismay while he said, ¡°Wait! Wait! Don¡¯t kill me! I can help you!¡± Dante grinned, sanguine fluid pooling on the colorless steel beneath him as he pointed at the box behind Damen. The sounds of Rejo winning his fight filled him with satisfaction, but the dread of what lay inside the box overshadowed them. Dante didn¡¯t recall allowing that thing on board. ¡°How can you help me? By sneaking a Godspawn onto my ship? By lying and deceiving my entire crew about what we were transporting? Clever, hiding the goods beneath the chems. You knew I wouldn¡¯t touch them. Addiction and all,¡± Dante spat out his hatred, staring down the soon-to-be-dead man who used to oversee the smuggling of goods without a shred of concern for his own life. Often, Dante couldn¡¯t stand to look at the things he smuggled. But he had limited choices. There weren¡¯t many jobs for humans. And now, it had all led to staring down at this pitiful shitstain of a man. The Gorshar, with one broken tusk and the other bejeweled, babbled promises to save his hide, ¡°No, no, no! You don¡¯t understand! They forced me! The Federation of Flesh¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re working with those psychos? The ones who worship Stareaters?¡± Dante said sharply, cutting him off. Damen shook his head, then nodded begrudgingly. It seemed he might tell part of the truth as he spoke, ¡°Yes... not willingly. They... they have my daughter. Said she was talented with Tides. I didn¡¯t know who they were until... yeah. Just... kill me. Better that than¡ª" The forlorn father¡¯s voice trailed off as the strength drained from his shoulders, leaving his words unfinished. But Dante was not done yet. He roughly snatched the man¡¯s knotted hair, forcing him to respond, ¡°What? Better than what? Is there something wrong with the Dirge?!¡± A grim smile met the human¡¯s chem-laced breath before the last of a dying species lost his cool, partly because of his drug-fueled rampage and because of the meaning behind that smile. A fist smashed into Damen¡¯s face thrice before his breathing stopped and his eyes closed. Broken and misshapen, Damen crumpled to the floor as Rejo touched Dante¡¯s trembling shoulder. Dante spun around, his fury scarcely contained, but he reined it in before striking his only ally on the Starsinger. Despite his lust for battle, Rejo seemed concerned for Dante. His gaze flicked to the blood dripping from the human and asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± A bouquet of laughter escaped Dante as he stumbled toward the screens in the center of the room. He struggled to reach the pilot¡¯s seat, shoving aside the body of the pilot he had hired. He hated flying, especially into the Lightsea. It brought back unsavory memories from when the drugs had their worst hold on him. But... now was not the time for such recollections. Dante glanced at Rejo, then back at the coffin-shaped box, an almost fatalistic acceptance settling over him, ¡°Most Qualae are dead, ready to be harvested, but this one¡¯s alive. We don¡¯t even know what kind it is. It¡¯s special¡ªand only one thing could be wrong with a live Dirge like this,¡± sweat dripped from his brow as he spoke their ill fate aloud. ¡°It¡¯s not sealed right. Maybe it can¡¯t even be sealed. That means...¡± The beetroot color drained from Rejo¡¯s face as even the fearless warrior understood Dante¡¯s following words, ¡°Its mother will come. And the Federation are the only ones insane enough to invade with Dirge. We¡¯re one Solar away from Cisey, the Sector furthest on the border and a hub for travel.¡± Rejo dropped into a seat, eyes fixed on the coffin, scanning for any sign of leakage with desperation. He found none, but he wasn¡¯t an expert. No one he knew was. The Araki confronted the silent human, pleading with him for how to live, as he spoke, ¡°What ¡®hen? Damen¡¯s men are still ¡®oming, and who knows when the mother will show? I... I don¡¯t want my brain ¡®urned to slush and my body ¡®arvested for conceptual organs. It¡¯s not a ¡®eautiful ¡®eath! You ¡®otta know something, Dante. You ¡®ways do.¡± The translation device in Dante¡¯s brain glitched, as usual, while the Araki prayed for survival. Dante avoided looking at Rejo, but answered him anyway, tapping instructions into the ship¡¯s guidance system and leaving bloody fingerprints with every press while he said, ¡°We¡¯re entering the Lightsea with no protection. If we¡¯re lucky, the parent will take its child while we traverse the higher dimension. And the ones coming after us will be slowed down. If we¡¯re unlucky...¡± He left the rest unsaid as the ship began to hum and pulse with energy. The ship overrode its controls under Dante¡¯s ministrations and deactivated the shields used for traveling through the Lightsea, one of the most dangerous regions in all realities. A typical suicide move for failed captains. Rejo stared into Dante¡¯s eyes as the man stood again, the chems driving him forward to death¡¯s landing. Rejo searched for any sign of dishonesty or bluffing, but found none. With a resigned exhale, he raised his weapon toward the open gateway and stated, ¡°Sit your ass ¡®ack down. I¡¯ll ¡®old them off. Get us the fuck out of ¡®ere.¡± Rushing footsteps echoed in the distance, panicked and frantic over the pilot¡¯s choices. They had assumed Dante and Rejo would die at the Skull, especially with Dante injured and shaking, given that Yesha had bested them in every competition over the past Standard. They had underestimated the tenacity of a final human. Dante¡¯s gaze drifted from the coffin and the display screens to the glass outside the Starsinger. His mind wandered into the great beyond as colors stretched and shadows dissolved. The vast cosmos vanished, replaced by every vibrant shade imaginable as strange creatures drifted beyond the sturdy glass. He couldn¡¯t tear his gaze from the Lightsea, the drugs narrowing his focus to a pin¡¯s spike. The coffin beside him rattled. Then it did again, with more force this time. Whatever was inside begged to be released. Despite it, he didn¡¯t move. He knew he should have. But he didn¡¯t. His body trembled with unseen agony, an unfulfilled promise, and the presence of something monstrous. His mind had one sole thought as his body broke down. It¡¯s already here. Twelve taps of... something horrific landed on his shoulders as the waves of the Lightsea tore into his body. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible¡ªthe glass hadn¡¯t broken¡ªbut Dante¡¯s flesh and bones felt like putty under the pressure. An incomprehensible mind invaded his own. The words¡­ The words weren¡¯t meant to be understood, not by any mortal creature¡ªleast of all Dante Penance. Pure, raw, unfiltered misery surged through his brain, searing its way through him, forcing change. Forcing understanding. Something inside him... would never be the same, and the being didn¡¯t care. Flashes of cursed faces, ruined bodies, and desolate planets wove their way into his mind. A mint-green sea the size of countless suns burnt his irises while a tidal wave of blood engulfed an entire city, devouring its inhabitants before spiraling around him at the apex. Above, there was crimson. Below, there was darkness. In his hands, though, there was... There was... There was understanding. ¡°What delicious suffering. A shadow lengthened, a life prolonged. For now. I find you to be a treat. More than that, you will be useful as a favor. A fly leaping from rat to rat. May my children enjoy the pangs of you and yours for a while longer.¡± 2 - In Death’s Dark Wake This council decrees the eradication of all humans from the universe. The danger they pose to reality far outweighs any possible benefit. Henceforth, anyone who harbors a human will face a swift death. It matters not what they may have done in the past nor the heights they reached. Humankind possesses a limitless capacity for malice, freely exploited by the spawn lurking in the echoes of lost dimensions and the sins that had been birthed by time. They. Must. Be. Exterminated. Pale lights flickered above two motionless sentients, surrounded by blaring alarms and malfunctioning systems. Nearby, electricity crackled from frayed wires as the starship trembled. The noise was loud enough to wake the dead, yet it only stirred Rejo from his sleep. By blinking rapidly, the Araki activated his double-layer lenses to overcome his weariness. He coughed, expelling something from his chest, but turned to his captain first. His concern was evident, a rare gesture for Rejo for anyone who was not his captain. He did not share his emotions regularly beyond the plain ones. While stretching out his arm toward Dante, he checked his pulse. Doing so, he witnessed the human gasping for air, his lungs caving in desperate need. Rejo leaped back, startled by the sudden movement. Worse yet, were Dante¡¯s eyes. The Araki¡¯s thoughts fell to the man¡¯s condition without thought of his own. Not good. Not good at all. Captain can¡¯t die! What can I do!? Rejo wasn¡¯t an expert on humans¡ªno one alive was that he knew of. People often replaced body parts without much training, yet it usually worked out. However, he knew their eyes shouldn¡¯t have black in the white sclera. A low growl rumbled from the human¡¯s throat, reverberating through the cacophony of alarms. Cracks spider-webbed across the window of the Skull, but Dante¡¯s aura somehow momentarily held the Starsinger together against the Lightsea. It lasted only a second before he regained consciousness, the darkness in his eyes fading. Dante pounded his chest repeatedly as his mind spun in panic, struggling to save himself. Something wormed its way into his soul, digging through his memories, failures, and pain. The day his father left replayed as he watched dozens of friends die all at once. The flashes focused on his failures, each one leading to death, culminating in his younger brother¡¯s. It was a life that ended too quickly, a shared dream of adventure that was robbed from both. Then came his addiction. It was the one evil he had never fully overcome. He couldn¡¯t escape. Every time he thought he was past them, something would drag him back, spiraling him toward an early grave. They were always an easy way out, a short path to victory, or sometimes the only road. Thousands of gunshots echoed through the haze of his chems of choice. The brutal stimulant that heightened physical strength, Shifter, mixed with Spacein, vibrating the muscles to further enhance speed. Both were fused into his combat amps with Nervefire, which set his senses ablaze, making everything sharper¡ªand worse. Unfortunately, this was his only dose of the combat drug, a contingency plan he¡¯d hoped never to use. The months of running himself ragged from mission to mission without a resupply had dug into his reserves. It had been a long time since this brand had eaten into his psyche. Worse still, the greatest evil arrived, and his entire being trembled. Nullify. All of Dante¡¯s emotions, except for hurt, pain, and loss, vanished into the great sea of light. Tears streamed down his face as a voice entered his ears, as loving as his former fianc¨¦e, yet as cruel as a torturer, ¡°How delightful. I simply needed a taste for myself. I¡¯ll leave the rest for you three. Goodbye.¡± Abruptly, the horror and misery halted as Dante¡¯s face slammed into the cold steel of the Starsinger¡¯s Skull. There, he gazed out the window at the worst sight of his strife-filled career in the stars. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, stopped by a nightmare more terrifying than anything he had ever imagined, even in his most agonized withdrawals. A spider... no... an unimaginably massive creature with sixteen legs and a pitch-black body coiled around the star near Gadron, the planet he had jumped to, cutting off much of its light. Tendril-like limbs sank into the celestial entity, devouring a being birthed by the universe itself. The star, much like his own people¡¯s sun, shivered and dimmed within seconds. Terror steadied Dante¡¯s hands on the floor, adrenaline overriding his trauma. His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed¡ªan instinctual reaction to the otherworldly entity. Beside him, the Araki trembled, equally unsure of what was happening. ¡°Dante. What. Is. That?¡± Rejo hissed through clenched teeth, his fists cowering. Before Dante could react, the starship quivered, and he understood why. It wasn¡¯t the malfunctioning systems or the risky Lightsea excursion. It was retaliation. Sparkling lights veered toward the monstrous creature, devouring the star¡¯s light. Dante didn¡¯t dare to ponder its name. Squinting, he could almost believe some of those lights were humanoid figures, not just lasers like the others. Seafarers. ¡°They¡¯re all going to die. Check the shields. I¡¯ll fix the Brightmap,¡± Dante ordered his last remaining crewmate into action. Upon stepping toward the flickering screens, he noticed the bodies in the room. They were bodies that hadn¡¯t been there before. What? How... How did they die? If they died... then... Why is Rejo alive? Three? What did it mean by that? Cruel chills gripped Dante¡¯s heart, and he could no longer handle it anymore. Between the blood loss, the betrayals, and the God within his mind, using it like a playground, he reached under the captain¡¯s station. After drawing out a small vial with dark purple liquid, its label scrubbed out to disguise its contraband nature, Dante swirled it before proceeding to grab the syringe stored with it. Just as he raised the needle to his neck, however, the possible Godspawn drawled out a question to the human, ¡°What are you ¡®oing? I thought you ¡®romised to never do those again. Didn¡¯t you ¡®ash them away?¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°I always have backups. For everything,¡± Dante said plainly as he turned to face Rejo as the liquid coursed through his veins. Instantly, the voices stopped. The endless chattering in his brain went silent. The constant flood of thoughts and worries froze. Only under Nullify is he his authentic self. Focused. Perfect. Of one whole mind. It was in this supreme concentration that he stared down Rejo. Others took drugs to sharpen their minds and enhance speed. Dante had to slow down, forcing unnecessary thoughts to pause so he could work at peak efficiency. Fear evaporated, and so did his grief. For one hour... he was... free. A free Dante was a force of nature, unabated under any storm. ¡°You¡¯re are not Rejo.¡± The Araki twisted his head, nearly invisible dark dots rolling across his skin, confused by Dante¡¯s words. Whatever Dante had seen didn¡¯t immediately reveal itself, even as he pointed at the blood-red sentient. Dante pressed on, his voice sharp as he spoke, ¡°Rejo had a scar under his chin. Another on his left hand. You have neither. What are you?¡± With his back to the monitors, Dante leveled his revolver at his crewmember. The Araki¡¯s face twisted with betrayal and hurt, still pretending to be Rejo. Just as Dante cocked the hammer, a noise from above caught his attention. There was a vibration in the vent. Dante, while squinting his bloodshot eyes, heard a commotion inside the air duct before a body dropped through the hatch, slamming into the floor. This creature was small, humanoid, but more dwarf-like than the average sentient being. The figure waved its hands frantically, panicking as it said, ¡°Wait! Wait! That¡¯s still Rejo! And you¡¯re still Dante Penance! Relax, relax!¡± Dante barely glanced at her while she pleaded for the two not to fight, his focus still on Rejo. ¡°Why should I believe you? Who are you? One of Damen¡¯s? Son of a bitch. You were in the vents the whole time,¡± Dante drew another pistol from behind a monitor, this one aimed at the four-foot-tall woman. With both weapons drawn¡ªone at a former friend, the other at a stranger¡ªDante¡¯s mind scrambled for a way to survive. ¡°I am Sonna Hearal, but that doesn¡¯t matter. You both have Qualae inside you. Godspawn. Stareaters. Dirge. Whatever you call them. You now possess divine powers bestowed by a Great Old One. You must spread the gospel of the Federation! There¡¯s so much you two can do now,¡± Sonna boasted about futures she couldn¡¯t possibly guarantee, her bold tone betraying a hint of doubt. Even as Sonna explained, Dante¡¯s mind was racing. He calculated the fastest path to the Medrack, the shots he¡¯d need, whether he¡¯d have to get new augments, and his chance of survival when it was all over. Dante half wanted to pull the trigger, to be done with her. She had to be part of the crew that brought this to the star system. She knew too much, far too much. And... We¡¯re stuck in shit together. I can work with her for now. Plus, what if she¡¯s a Seafarer? Dante glanced at Rejo, motioning for him to continue prepping the Starsinger for the jump into the Lightsea, ¡°Sonna, why were you in the vent? And¡­ how were you in my vent?¡± Another jump was risky in the ship¡¯s current state, but as the window¡ªdesigned to withstand Petrifier-class cannons¡ªcracked further, Dante set down both weapons. Their priority was leaving, not fighting. He could deal with the rest later. ¡°To hide, obviously. I knew the Qualae would hatch since we left it partially open on purpose. A thick enough casing made from powerful Dirge corpses can hide someone from the Lightsea. Regrettably, you killed the man who knew the whereabouts of the other. Not that I¡¯m upset about his death. Didn¡¯t like him much. He was¡­ awful,¡± Sonna said as she strolled over, but she stopped well before reaching the trigger-happy human, wagging a finger mockingly at Damen¡¯s corpse. This woman. I will despise her by the end of this. Already irritated by his new companion, Dante finished prepping the Brightmap with a series of calculations and risk assessments that would guide the ship through the dangerous Lightsea. From the other side of the room, Rejo shouted, his voice amplified by the power surges lighting the room without shields, ¡°All good over here! We¡¯re ready to jump!¡± Dante nodded and glanced back out the window. The star¡¯s light, which had shone just moments ago, had vanished noiselessly. Through the fractured glass, Dante stared in awe at the spinning orb of darkness in the vast void of space. Beams of energy fired at the divine being from thousands, maybe millions, of starships, but they had no effect. Space itself trembled as even the most powerful Seafarers unleashed their terrible powers, to no avail. Oceans of water, mountains of ice, and atmospheres of steam rushed forward to no avail. Maybe if the monsters hidden in the depths of the galaxy, near the Great Cavity, were here, it would have been different. Dante couldn¡¯t be certain, though. All he knew was that he had to run, his thumb already slamming into the ignition as the ring of darkness closed in, snuffing out any light it touched. Colors warped, and Dante¡¯s whole body vibrated with sickness. This jump in Lightsea felt unlike the previous ones. Something inside him reached out, swabbing his soul. It slithered into his brain, digging up his deepest emotions and traumas. But it wasn¡¯t the Old One from before. This was... the child. Was it the one from the coffin? Dante wasn¡¯t so sure. It seemed... Wrong. He didn¡¯t know how or why, but it didn¡¯t feel right. As if to prove his point, it devoured pieces of him he wished had never existed inside his soul. But it couldn¡¯t take them completely¡ªthey were buried too deep. Instead, a shrieking howl erupted from deep within his core as it almost seemed that the thing found a competitor. It was a howl of pain, suffering, and untold ages of agony to come. It sounded wrong. Unnatural. Whatever was inside him fed on that negativity, thriving on it. Despite its noise, however, it suddenly went silent as the colors returned to normal. Somehow, Dante experienced a sense of renewal. Not entirely new, but far better than the near-death, chem-addled wreck he¡¯d been before. Beyond the state he found himself it, the sensations crawled over him with a profound wrongness. He couldn¡¯t pinpoint what it was, yet it made him feel sick through the relief. He glanced down at his hands and found them shaking, just like earlier that day. A weary sigh left his lungs as it was all back. A voice intruded into his thoughts without his permission, saying, ¡°I see. So that¡¯s your Stigmata. Some form of regeneration, perhaps? Rejo¡¯s must be similar with those dots. However, it is not identical. Tell me, what do you feel?¡± Dante twisted to face Sonna as the Starsinger sped toward a city planet, still half an hour away. The clarity from Nullify had vanished, and panic crept back in. In a display of frustration, he mustered the shortest response he could to Sonna¡¯s question, a simple, ¡°Yes, I feel better.¡± A part of Dante knew better. This¡­ Curse wasn¡¯t healing. It was something far more complicated. As he glanced at his hand, he noticed that the cut from this morning¡¯s breakfast was absent, while yesterday¡¯s sparring scab lingered. Between twelve and thirty-six hours. I reset myself that far through time. I hate it. It feels¡­ wrong. Is that normal? Dante¡¯s mind drifted to the pull of the chems. They no longer gripped his body, but they clung to his thoughts. With this power, he could abuse them freely. As much as he wanted. ¡°Mine ain¡¯t ¡®ealing, Dante. I¡¯m not sure what ¡®appened, but I blanked out. What ¡®appened after we jumped? And who is this ¡®irl? She ¡®eems suspicious,¡± Rejo said and, unaware of the past several minutes, turned to Dante for answers. The wounds Dante had pointed out before? They were back, scars and all. The observation chilled the human to his bones, keeping his mind struggling. What. The. Lights. Dante reached for his hidden stash of Nullify but stopped short. With a shake of his head, he compelled reality to conform, causing something to distort after a brief contest. He realized the sparring scar was gone, but now his mind throbbed with pain. He stumbled to the side and heard Sonna¡¯s rambling cut through the haze, ¡°Whoa! I know new Seafarers sometimes activate their Stigmata by accident in the Lightsea, but you just... triggered it again? That can¡¯t be right. No one¡¯s that skilled to start. Look me in the eye.¡± Sonna¡¯s beady eyes locked onto Dante¡¯s as he braced himself, feeling like he might expel whatever he¡¯d eaten in the last twenty-four to seventy-two hours. Her face twisted in confusion before she whipped out a small beeping device. The device beeped softly beside Rejo, but when she aimed it at Dante, it screeched like a newborn. The war-forged Araki misstepped in sadness while Sonna¡¯s smug smile grew even broader. ¡°Oh my. I had you marked as a Tianshe. What in the Lights are you? Let¡¯s see... pale skin, six-foot-three, two hundred and twenty pounds, oddly resilient... By the Lights. I helped orchestrate a human getting a Qualae into their veins,¡± Sonna collapsed to the floor, her bug eyes wide with shock, alabaster skin almost glowing while her hands stuck to her face. The once-confident woman¡¯s facade shattered. All the bravado she had shown previously was gone in the wind. A hand slapped Dante¡¯s shoulder, and Rejo, ever the compassionate killer-for-hire, stated, ¡°Yup. He¡¯s a ¡®uman. First one I¡¯ve ¡®ver seen. But what¡¯s so bad ¡®bout that?¡± Sonna scrambled backward in horror, her spine hitting the wall with a thud. Dante¡¯s mind slowly churned to life, piecing together the rumors and legends. The man steadied his exhaustion by blinking thrice until his vision cleared. That¡¯s why I couldn¡¯t reach the galaxy¡¯s center. My damn species. The hunts are fairly mild out here, but deeper¡­ people aren¡¯t so lax. ¡°He... he... I¡¯ll be executed for this. No trial, no nothing. A Judge will be sent! We need to run! Now!¡± Dante strode forward and crouched beside the lithe, terrified woman. She looked up at him, her once-confident face now twisted with fear as a toothy grin spread across his own. ¡°We¡¯re not allowed to have these things, huh? How is that any worse than destroying a sun? Planets and a sun. That thing... will kill billions by tomorrow. Not that we can stop it. Or do anything about it, actually,¡± Dante stated the facts of their situation calmly before Sonna finally managed to speak. He couldn¡¯t understand how any of it made sense. ¡°My organization answers to a higher power, but even that power has outlawed humans with Stigmata. That thing... I don¡¯t know what it was, but... surely we can control it... As for you... The abilities from higher dimensions are born from emotions, particularly negative ones. And... you humans...¡± Sonna trailed off while Dante finished her words. The numbers added up in his brain as he saw the answers to the equation. The problem was him. It always had been. ¡°We declared war on the universe. Nearly won, too. We¡¯re as awful as they come.¡± 3 - Beyond Mercy’s Reach Our survival depends on our collective strength, not the power of a select few. If you believe otherwise, then stake out on your own in some distant Sector. See how you endure. I won¡¯t join you. My duty, as Legate, is to protect our people and the peoples of this galaxy. It seems you¡¯ve forgotten that in your sudden rise to power. May whatever God deceived you into abandoning our empire¡¯s people have mercy on your soul. Because if I return, I will have none.¡± Dante walked away from the conversation, his hands squeezing the sides of the Brightmap at the center console of the ship¡¯s Skull. His focus sharpened as the unimportant thoughts faded into the background. ¡°So, ¡®hat now, Dante? Do we ¡®tay here? Become kings with our ¡®ew powers and hide from the Warring Empires in the far reaches of the galaxy? Sounds like a good life to me¡ªbetter than being hunted down and turned to dust,¡± Rejo inquired, not bothering to glance at Sonna, focused on his sole friend. The former captain of the ship shook his head while Sonna sputtered in disbelief, trying to get them to listen. Neither did, ¡°No, Rejo, we¡¯re not doing that. I have no desire to become royalty. I know you don¡¯t either. We¡¯ve done odd jobs for years, long before you joined, Sonna. It¡¯s always been small-time, smuggling, breaking Aristocrats out of prison. Sonna slapped her hand to her face as Dante continued, ¡°Out here in the Wings, we¡¯ve been limited to small-time jobs. But toward the Heart? That¡¯s where the real action is. We can finally join the real galaxy. Picture it: us, walking along Luminant Ave. Free to eat where we want. Enter a planet without a strip-search. To... live without fear.¡± As the man finished speaking, he turned to face them, causing the broken monitors to flicker to life and display the galaxy. A generous smile laced Dante¡¯s face while the man¡¯s brain spun at the speed of Lightsea travel. The weaves within his thoughts worked more similarly to the chaotic nature of the Lightsea than a typical person. He understood the risk and that people would hunt him, more than usual, for being human with such powers. After all... We were the first ones to bring them here. The Lightsea. And all the other minor realms. Who says we can¡¯t fetch more? I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t want to die. There are things I have to do. People I have to see. And a death I have to solve. A supposed death, that is. Dante¡¯s finger hovered over the center of the Milky Way, near the Great Cavity, the Great Darkness that would devour everything tossed into it. The map lit up with dots marking civilizations, planets, and Sectors, each labeled in vibrant colors and intricate detail. He worked his magic¡ªthe same magic that had earned him his original crew. Sure, they¡¯d betrayed him, but Dante didn¡¯t need perfection. He just needed competence, people who would do what he asked when he asked them to. Beyond that, the man would choose only those with the skills he required. Rejo¡¯s multicolored lenses locked onto Dante¡¯s bright blue eyes as the human planted his case. ¡°Rejo, you want the fight? The thrill. The adrenaline. That¡¯s why you joined me, right? Andromeda is a wasteland¡ªnothing to do, no one to fight. Here we are now, stuck in the Wings, where it is not much better. Let¡¯s leave this graveyard of souls and head for the real action. Money. Fame. Power. Purpose. It¡¯s all out there. We just have to find it.¡± Rejo¡¯s head bobbed in agreement, his muscles twitching with anticipation. Unlike the Araki, however, Sonna had reached her limit and couldn¡¯t handle it anymore. ¡°You idiots! They will find you! And they will kill you! You¡¯re fugitives to every known civilization now! The only ones who might help are the Federation¡ªthey¡¯re rebelling against the three Empires. Maybe they¡¯ll¡­¡± Sonna¡¯s voice trailed off as she spoke, uncertain. She knew the Federation followed a higher power that had outlawed Dante¡¯s existence, too. The human didn¡¯t care. His hands were already on the controls, guiding them into the Lightsea. The Starsinger shuddered from the strain of the constant jumps, but it endured, built to Dante¡¯s exact specifications. He used the monitors beside him to plot a path to the center of the galaxy, leading straight to the most powerful empire of them all: Rome. The nation, which controlled millions of planets and countless lives, had modeled its entire system after the ancient Roman Empire of Earth. It was yet another thing that frustrated the human to no end. While grinding his teeth, Dante finalized the chart. There would be many stops along the way¡ªafter all, with a ship like his, it would take years to reach the heart of the galaxy. The distant jumps would require repairs, which take time and money. In order to obtain the money, he would need jobs. Assassinations, robbery, smuggling, it didn¡¯t matter to him as long as he didn¡¯t harm children. His one rule. Still, he knew how hypocritical he was, but in the sea of stars, it was impossible to keep your innocence. A fleeting thought of his younger brother crossed his mind, but he pushed the sorrow aside and initiated the leap to their first destination. As the colors of the Lightsea warped around them, Dante didn¡¯t bother convincing Sonna. He already knew she would join them. Sure, she could attempt to return to her organization, but if they uncovered what she had done¡­ She would face dire consequences. Hidden organizations like hers did not take kindly to betrayals of such a magnitude. Sonna curled up in the corner, her knuckles white as they gripped the armrest. Fear gnawed at her, relentless, but the ship¡¯s steady hum grounded her for the time being. Dante pitied her and wondered where all that confidence went, but she was the reason he was in this mess to begin with. If she hadn¡¯t snuck onboard, if her Federation hadn¡¯t been so determined to take down the Trinary Empires, the mission would have gone smoothly. Quick and easy. Finally, the man crossed the threshold into the Lightsea, the ship disappearing from sight. He stumbled, overwhelmed by a flurry of unnatural sensations. Dante had experienced this phenomenon countless times before, but this time was different. This time, he felt a connection to the Lightsea¡ªa symbiotic link, as if he could draw power from it. Dante¡¯s mind wandered for a moment, knowing he shouldn¡¯t do it, but the allure was too strong. The act was stupid. He was infinitely stupid, and he knew it. Despite his feelings, he knew some things could not be stopped. Without meaning to, he siphoned the brilliance from the lights that danced through the sea. Currents of energy washed over his flesh, swirling through his bones, veins, and even neurons. He marveled at the surge of power flowing through him, a heady mix of awe and exhilaration. Droplets of clear water dribbled from his fingertips like sweat, but the fluid was most unquestionably not. Still, with the sensations rumbling through his body, Dante didn¡¯t acknowledge such a thing. It differed completely from when that¡­ thing had touched him. This didn¡¯t feel wrong or evil. It felt... peaceful. Almost joyful. Tranquil, perhaps. While sinking deeper into the lights, he felt a sense of foreboding creeping over him, becoming stronger with each passing second. His breath quickened, and his heart pounded against his ribs like a frantic prisoner desperate for escape. He needed out. Now. How though? That was the question on his mind. Then he sensed it¡ªa presence of unimaginable scale and power. It felt as though the very fabric of the universe had shifted its focus onto him. Panic surged through him, a fear he couldn¡¯t contain without Nullify. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what he had awakened. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Though he tried, he couldn¡¯t. Dante was, after all, just a man¡ªconnected to powers he was never meant to understand. In the void between realms, something stirred. An unblinking, pupil-less eye, vast and ancient, unfolded from the expanse of darkness. Its gaze fell on Dante, crushing him beneath the weight of a thousand suns. Like a blooming blossom, the eye unveiled more with each crossing instant. The second their gazes met, Dante¡¯s mind folded. The sheer force of the presence¡¯s awareness overwhelmed him. Unlike anything he had ever experienced, agony exploded in his skull, causing him to scream¡ªa raw, primal sound. Despite the impossibility, the scream went nowhere, swallowed by the emptiness of the Lightsea. Something inside him, though, mitigated the impact, for the man was well aware he should have already died from the mere glimpse. Dante clutched his head, desperate to block out the eye¡¯s piercing scrutiny, yet it was too late. The damage was done. When the ship finally dropped back into standard space, Dante¡¯s right eye was ruptured, blood trailing down his face and dripping onto the floor. His eyes blurred, and he berated himself for his foolishness. Fuck. Fuck! I know how dangerous this is! What am I doing? Fuck! Dante struggled to believe how easily his willpower had crumbled, while slamming his fists against the desk and scraping off its contents. He¡¯d fought off addiction time and time again with little to no help, believing his will was unbreakable. However, it broke into pieces within seconds. ¡°Dante?¡± A scared, trembling voice reached Dante¡¯s searing ears. He turned his head painfully, the pounding in his skull relentless, and saw Sonna standing there, genuinely concerned, as she asked, ¡°Are you okay? What happened? You didn¡¯t pull from the ¡®Sea, did you?¡± Dante hesitated, unsure how to respond. More importantly, how should he respond? He couldn¡¯t show weakness. Not to her. Not now. As long as he was dead... By slapping the side of his head, he snapped back to reality. Whatever that had been, it wasn¡¯t his thinking. He wouldn¡¯t waste such a valuable resource, and strangely, she seemed to care. Maybe it was some kind of na?ve innocence? He wasn¡¯t sure yet. Numerous questions remained unanswered. Each one solved tacked on a dozen more. Why would she be so na?ve? Wasn¡¯t she an operative? Is it all just a facade? Maybe. At the moment, he could not concentrate. The pain from his ruptured eye matched the warning signals blaring from the ship¡¯s systems. It was their final jump for now, but Dante had no regrets. They needed to distance themselves and the incident as much as possible. It would buy them time. Not forever if someone truly wanted him¡ªSeers could sniff out almost anything¡ªbut for now, it would do. ¡°I looked at something I shouldn¡¯t have. I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Dante muttered, dismissing the pain. ¡°More importantly, we need to clean up the ship. A repair team won¡¯t come in with bodies lying everywhere.¡± The human started dragging a corpse from the Skull, dismissing his injuries. Rejo joined him without a word as if this were routine, while Sonna shot Dante a glance of half frustration, half fear, saying, ¡°You¡¯re going to get yourself killed taking risks like that so soon. Not even Praetors meet the Hidden without preparation. And clean up? How? We¡¯re in orbit. How are we supposed to get rid of these bodies without being seen?¡± The Araki laughed, hefting two bodies with ease and adding, ¡°We¡¯ve got an incinerator for things ¡®ike this. Sometimes, it¡¯s better to ¡®urn the merchandise. Works for ¡®odies, too. C¡¯mon, help.¡± Sonna groaned, pulling herself out of her chair and gingerly wrapping her hands around a corpse¡¯s leg. It was clear she had done nothing like this before. Her role was not to get her hands dirty¡ªshe was supposed to work in the shadows. At least, that is what she told everyone. This? Her stomach lurched. Before they started moving the bodies, she vomited twice times. When Rejo handed her a mop and bucket, Sonna stared at them in disbelief while Dante remained lost in his own thoughts, focused on the sensation he had felt earlier. Nausea and agony warred with his pride. Sonna shook her head, desperate, ¡°No. I¡¯m not cleaning blood and guts. No way.¡± Sadness flickered across Rejo¡¯s face before he turned to Dante. The man of his focus didn¡¯t even open his eyes, already seated at the console as communications came in from the planet below. The bluish-green orb was Crislend, a planet owned by a Baron of the Empire of Ostacean. This far out, though, Ostacean itself had scant power, not to mention it being near the Roman Empire¡¯s border. Most responsibility fell into the Baron¡¯s hands. ¡°Someone handle it. I¡¯m busy,¡± Dante muttered, barely acknowledging their requests. ¡°The comms need answering. We¡¯re travelers. Permits are under the desk. The ship¡¯s signature is Sing-Song-67.¡± Once he finished speaking, his brows furrowed as he desperately searched within himself for the stream that had sent his body back in time before. Rejo and Sonna exchanged a glance only a few feet apart. The former¡¯s eyes shifted to the monitors, his face contorting into a grimace as he spoke, ¡°I¡¯ll clean ¡®he blood. You ¡®andle the talking, little one.¡± For the first time, Sonna laughed¡ªa slight, unexpected sound. She pointed at Rejo as she walked toward the desk Dante had mentioned and said, ¡°Are you scared of talking to people? That¡¯s hilarious! Maybe you two aren¡¯t so bad after all.¡± While Sonna worked at the monitors, Rejo was already cleaning, muttering to himself about Weren and their tiny heads. Sonna glanced at Dante, focused and distant, before shaking her head. Two companions might have been presumptuous. While feeling her eyes on him, Dante opened his own for a split second, shooting a glare at Sonna, which served to deepen her worries. He shut them again, refocusing on the connection he now felt with the Lightsea. Before, he¡¯d triggered it by accident. Now, he had to do it intentionally. Dante was a man who seized every opportunity, and this one was massive, for it would change everything. In order to do so, he poured all of himself into it. Nevertheless... he couldn¡¯t find peace. Minutes crawled by as more blood seeped from his wounds. Fortunately, Sonna had already secured their safe passage to the planet and its megacity. Rejo was still cleaning, but Dante finally stood, stumbling to where he¡¯d hidden his supply of Nullify. He felt Sonna¡¯s eyes on him, her brewing anger still palpable. Self-loathing coursed through Dante, but he needed to fix his eye without draining his already low funds. Nullify was pricey, but not as lavish as a new organ. Furthermore, he had been expecting a massive payout for this job. As such, he was damn near broke. There would be no expensive or high-quality tools. Dante would have to work with whatever he could get from a general store or some other street shop. So, he pulled out a syringe, lamenting how few doses he had left and hating that he needed to use it at all. A junkie. That¡¯s what he was. What he would always be. Despite the thoughts in his mind, he still yearned to be more. So much more, and that thought honed his mind as the pitch-black liquid sank into his veins. His mind sharpened, not just from the Nullify clearing the noise from his hunger but also from the clarity it brought. Dante found a strange peace as he became a conduit for something far beyond himself. He¡¯s seen many of them before. Hundreds, in fact. Seafarers. Psions. Tidewalkers. Windbreakers, Cultivators. Seers. Anomalies. They were those touched by extra-dimensional powers, by the Lightsea, one of the weaves that hold reality together. There were many names for the same thing, as Designations only affected how their powers manifested. Dante had always been cautious around them, like walking on glass barefoot. One wrong move, and it was game over. Sure, he had killed a few who had gone too far, collecting bounties on their heads, but he had spent weeks or months meticulously planning those hits. He would only go after the bounties on the weak or new ones, never the strong. That¡¯d be suicide. His targets were those who had not yet fully mastered their abilities or were without mentors. A crackle of lightning ripped through Dante¡¯s senses, snapping his eyes open. Instant relief flooded him as his vision returned, clear through both eyes once again. He tried to stand, but collapsed back into his chair with a trembling gasp. Darkness swept over him, pulling him under. By the depths... Footsteps rushed toward him, and then hands gripped his face. A sharp slap followed, along with a distant voice shouting, ¡°Wake up! What did I tell you? Don¡¯t touch the Lightsea! You haven¡¯t been trained! You¡¯ll kill yourself by using your Stigmata!¡± The pain jolted Dante back into consciousness, Sonna¡¯s tiny eyes boring holes into him. Another slap forced him to blink, his mind coming back online. ¡°What were you thinking? So fucking stupid,¡± Sonna spat, glaring at him. In response, Dante shook his head. He had thought it through. Even with weakness spreading through his body, a sensation echoing everywhere and nowhere all at once, he said calmly, ¡°No. It wasn¡¯t stupid. It was logical. I needed to recover. Who knows what effect the travel had on me? Besides, there¡¯s someone on Crislend I need to meet. An old friend. I need to be healed to see him.¡± A jittering chuckle escaped Rejo as the Araki sat across from Dante, disbelief etched across his face, ¡°What do you ¡®ean? You don¡¯t ¡®ave friends. Besides me, of ¡®ourse.¡± ¡°Okay then, an acquaintance. Regardless, we need to get to him. We need a new crew, and he¡¯s the best-damned engineer on this side of the Wings. Only... there¡¯s a small catch,¡± Dante said as an uncertain glimmer flickered his eyes. Sonna¡¯s face fell as she seized Dante¡¯s plan. Rejo groaned, aware of the precise direction Dante¡¯s plan was taking. ¡°Not ¡®im. Come on. You¡¯ve told me ¡®bout him! You ¡®ate him! No. Not Archimedes. Anyone but that nervous ¡®reck,¡± Rejo protested, his concern growing as Dante stood and holstered the pistols he¡¯d left on the desk. With a resounding exhale, he shuffled toward the exit, waving for the others to follow. ¡°I don¡¯t hate him. I just found him difficult to work with and... It hurt to see him and be unable to free him without getting him killed. Though, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s matured by now. Got sentenced for hacking into Crislend¡¯s banking system. Oh, and Sonna? Find me a cane, will you? It¡¯s hard to walk right now, and I need to project some bravado. Starsinger, take us to port,¡± Dante stated as he continued toward the exit, voice guiding the ship¡¯s descent and his crew. Sonna ran after him a moment later, furious, and swiped one of his precious syringes in spite. Rejo was left with finding a cane. He eventually picked up a long, bent pipe from something unrecognizable. With a shrug, he brought it to the exit hatch. Along the way, Sonna kept shouting at Dante, demanding answers, but he shut her down each time. She knew the truth¡ªif she didn¡¯t help him, she¡¯d be dead. They both knew it. Under her breath, she cursed him but still followed. Still, she had one question as she asked, ¡°Why? Why do you need a crew? What¡¯s your actual plan?¡± The hatch hissed open while she spoke, delivering them onto the surface of a new planet, with the ghostly ship behind them, now emptied of life and in dire need of repairs. Bloody stains still littered the insides, though none but these three would ever witness them. Above and away from the stench of death, starships streaked through the sky, their shadows casting fleeting darkness over the sunlit world. After inhaling the planet¡¯s concrete scent with an imperceptible smile, Dante answered her sincerely, ¡°Explore. Learn. Excavate. Get stronger. I don¡¯t know. I just¡­ want to do more than whatever I have been doing. There is so much out there. So much that we know nothing about. I want to learn it all.¡± I¡¯ll also find out what happened to my father. What turned him into... that thing. What made him¡­ vanish. Dante had countless wishes and goals that he wanted to accomplish in his mind. There were so many he didn¡¯t even know which to truly start with, only those that he had to at some point. Sonna laughed, clearly not taking him seriously. Regardless, Dante didn¡¯t care. He strode forward, leaning on his makeshift cane as they stepped onto a planetary dock meant for out-of-system guests. Starships soared overhead, blotting out the sun and filling the air with deafening noise. As Dante felt the old-fashioned revolver hidden under his belt and another tucked in his shirt pocket, a sense of comfort washed over him. He glanced at the watch on his wrist¡ªa habit passed down from his father¡ªand mentally ticked off the time. Time to get a move on. I¡¯ve got a soldier and a spy. Well, a terrible spy, but she¡¯ll do. Next is the engineer. What¡¯s after that? A doctor, maybe. I know one here, but she¡¯s... Shit. She would be perfect here if I got her to join. She knows the planet well, too. Probably has connections in Lightjar knowing her ¡®businesses¡¯. But... she''s a walking nightmare. Dante¡¯s mind drifted over the possibilities as they passed through customs in the Starport. His guns cleared without issue from the flash of a Judge¡¯s Juror badge. It wasn¡¯t real¡ªat least not in the strictest sense¡ªbut it worked well enough. The Roman Empire¡¯s executioner-slash-investigators could move freely, even across other empires, as long as it was on official business and a war wasn¡¯t brewing. The three were quickly waved through, despite the badge being only a servant¡¯s rank. Few were willing to copy such items. Fewer do it in a way that would appear authentic. Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were walking down a crowded street in the megacity¡¯s heart. Flashing lights and endless advertisements fought for attention amidst the deafening noise. Waves of people surged around them, reducing the trio to mere specks in the overwhelming flow of the city. Rejo appeared uneasy, shifting uncomfortably, while Sonna shrank into herself, beyond out of her element. On the other hand, Dante strode with poise, the cane not hindering him at all, his shoulders squared, pupils dilated. His sharp blue eyes locked onto a nearby general store, craving the chemicals and supplies he knew would be inside. A plan was already in motion. Crislend just didn¡¯t know it yet. However, whether it was Dante¡¯s or someone else¡¯s was to be determined. 4 - Torn Sails, Torn Ties ¡°Experimental Log 81.8.2. Year 3979, June 11th. Theodore Penance arrived today with a delightful offering for his mounting medical bills. The poor man looked distraught, grieving over his son¡¯s recent disappearance. Death, likely. Humans¡ªalways so sentimental. Hypocritical. If I had to guess, he cared more for Judas than the other one. Still, this is a fascinating opportunity! The endless possibilities of human anatomy excite me. Particularly the way I can integrate it into my Biotics... Ah, the joy! Curious, though¡ªhow does Theodore manage to get himself hurt so often? No matter. Time to indulge in the real fun. I think I¡¯ll begin with the bastard¡¯s eyes. I wish he had been the one to die, though. It would have been fascinating to work on a Seer¡¯s child. With methodical precision, Dante utilized the last hours of his Nullify dose. As he often boasted, not a second of the drug went to waste¡ªevery millisecond bent toward a singular purpose. This time around, that purpose... Dante concentrated thoroughly on infiltrating Lightjar, the most secure prison on Crislend. Lightjar wasn¡¯t just for the mundane criminals. It was a holding ground for Seafarers, Tidewalkers, Windbreakers, Psions and all those who had dared to venture too far into the unknown. Most were weak, the kind he¡¯d have hunted in the past. Although not all the prisoners were. As Nullify wore off, Dante stepped back from his creation, feeling his sentiments and fatigue crashing through, causing tears to well up in his eyes. While grinding his teeth, the human endured the pain so that it would return another day. He had too many things to consider. Some rumors he picked up told that Lightjar harbored an Anomaly, too. Whether that was true, Dante had no idea, and he wasn¡¯t planning on finding out its authenticity. That Designation was too unpredictable for practical use. A petite woman sauntered past the device, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she took it in. It seemed she had regained her energy now that some time had passed. Disbelief colored her tone as she stared right at Dante, asking, ¡°You built this? Out of scrap? Where did you learn to make bombs from random store junk?¡± Dante only shrugged, his fingers wrapping around the miniature explosive. A small, intricate device the size of a the latter half of a finger, wired to a timer which was linked to the button tucked in his pocket. He wasn¡¯t about to offer explanations, and no amount of torture could drag his past out of him. Not that it mattered. In his mind, it wasn¡¯t impressive. He knew a kid who could build double with only dumpster finds. Thankfully, Rejo changed the subject with a yawn, ¡°No one ¡®nows where he learned that. He was like this when I ¡®et him. Anyway, I¡¯m ''ired. Are we ¡®etting a hotel, or am I ¡®eading back to those awful bed frames?¡± A round of nods sealed the decision. All three of them preferred solid ground to the Starsinger¡¯s shifting floors. It wasn¡¯t that the ship was uncomfortable¡ªit just wasn¡¯t home. Well, it was to Dante, but he needed off the damned ship where he nearly lost his life. They eventually found a cheap hotel, nothing special, with a suspicious lack of locked doors, but it would do for the night. Of course, Dante insisted they all share one room, his paranoia after the attack refusing to allow anything else. Rejo didn¡¯t argue, and Sonna gave up after a few futile minutes of debate. ¡°At least give me a curtain or something. I don¡¯t know how you humans do it, but we, Weren, need our privacy,¡± Sonna grumbled, crossing her legs as she perched on her chosen bed. With neither a word nor hesitation, Dante humbly lowered himself to the floor between the two beds, his head bowed as if silently apologizing. The other two exchanged puzzled glances, but as usual, he ignored them. None really knew how long it had been since they last slept¡ªnot even Dante, who usually tracked the minutes obsessively, just like his father. Dante didn¡¯t care, however, not this time. A hardwood floor was nothing compared to the places he¡¯d slept before. His quarters on the Starsinger didn¡¯t have a bed. Instead of a mattress, there was an armory. He¡¯d rather sleep in a bag than waste the precious space. It also made it less predictable for assassins. He saved himself in the past by sleeping in a corner or an odd location. This? Between two beds on stiff wood? This was better than spikes. Better than heated coals. Better than freezing winds on an ice planet or the suffocating burns of a desert world with sand that stripped skin. He¡¯d slept on hundreds of worlds in his short, brutal life. Here, he could sleep easily, even peacefully. Here, he slept hastily and luxuriously, like none other. For a while, at least. As Dante slipped into unconsciousness, he hoped for the usual¡ªa simple, dreamless slumber. It was one of the few sanctuaries left to him, a fleeting peace, especially after the clarity Nullify granted him. The voices returning were always unwelcome, not to mention the guilt that soaked into his core. Instead of the peace he had anticipated, he encountered a void where he stood face-to-face with a mirror image of his younger brother, only aged up to match him. He was exactly what Dante imagined him to be. They looked similar, barring the deep, jagged cut across Dante¡¯s nose that raced across his eye, the permanent reminder of his father¡¯s twisted love. The memory of how he earned that scar flickered in his mind, but the copy¡¯s sinister snicker snapped him back into the present. The clone circled him, its eyes gleaming with an eerie, unsettling void. Inside those pupil-less orbs, Dante found nothing. Not a soul. Not a life. Simply... nothing. Whatever emotions lay beneath that gaze were illegible, far beyond anything human, if they existed at all. Dante opened his mouth to speak, to demand answers, but no sound came. He couldn¡¯t speak. The copy had no such restraint. ¡°You thought you could contain me? With that pathetic mind?¡± it taunted, its voice dripping with malice. A bloodcurdling chuckle forced Dante to squint in discomfort as it pierced through the dream and into his ears. Then, that laugh shifted and said, ¡°Ohoho... This is only the beginning, Donny-boy. Only the beginning. You think you can wield my power? Abuse it as you see fit? Perhaps if I was some lowly Dirge. Perhaps. Rest assured, Donny, this power is mine and I will reclaim it." The threat lingered, thick and suffocating, as the copy stepped closer. Dante¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, fear clawing at him as the realization sank in. This wasn¡¯t just a dream. This thing hadn¡¯t died when he took it into himself. It was supposed to work like eating living-food. Except... Sonna had been wrong. This meal was still alive in his guts. All Seafarers and their ilk had to face their inner demons to grow, but this... This wasn¡¯t normal. They didn¡¯t speak. Not yet, and not like this. ¡°You can call me Judas,¡± the clone sneered, ¡°as I will stab you in the back, my little unfaithful Christian, just when you least expect it.¡± The name struck Dante like a physical blow, and he could feel the hate spreading outward and into his everything.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. That name. Judas. It had been a long time since he heard it. Or said it. This thing had no right to say it, either. It shouldn¡¯t know the name, anyway. The little boy it once belonged to was nothing like the beast before him. Judas was a kind child, utterly unlike Dante and his violent nature. He was... better. Furthermore, this being''s form was purposeful, built to match the name and erode Dante''s will. As if feeding on the darkness within Dante¡¯s soul, the surrounding void constricted, tightening with each word Judas spoke. Dante¡¯s mind raced for a way out, but he found himself trapped. Utterly powerless against the manifestation of his worst nightmare. This was his inner demon. His Qualae. His enemy. It wasn¡¯t a standard Qualae, obviously with that thing that had spoken to him. How foolish he had been to think he had overcome it, to believe he had truly earned the powers of a Seafarer. Nothing is ever that simple. Power always comes with a price, whether a buy-in or a sacrifice. Dante was wise enough to never wager on his own luck. He only gambled on others or when he had rigged the game. Here... he was well aware. It was rigged against him. Judas raised a hand, interrupting Dante¡¯s spiraling thoughts. Icy fingers curled around his throat, squeezing with a sadistic grin. A shudder rippled through Dante¡¯s soul, the air vanishing from his lungs as darkness crept in. While his life was being choked out of him, Dante suddenly felt a wave of clarity. It was in that moment that the true Dante emerged¡ªthe one his father had crafted, the one who thrived in the cold void Nullify left behind. His eyes snapped open, locking onto Judas¡¯s unblinking, depthless gaze. This was his body. His mind. He had a plan¡ªone that didn¡¯t stop with Judas. There were more steps and more dominoes to fall. With the end of it, there would be no Gods left. No kings. No monsters. Only Dante. He didn¡¯t pray. Not anymore. The last time he had whispered a prayer was with the real Judas, just before the little one died. It was before he ran off to join mercenaries¡ªto escape his father¡¯s madness. He wouldn¡¯t start praying again now, but something inside him stirred. Simply seeing that face and hearing that name... It lit a fire he thought long extinguished. A long, long time ago, Dante and Judas had dreamt of an adventurous life, sailing through the sea of stars together. They¡¯d gain abilities from the fabled hidden dimensions, gather a crew, and fight against the lurking horrors. They¡¯d be a team. Yet that was before their father¡¯s enemies stabbed, shot, and beat the younger one to death. Things had since changed. Here, in his own mind, hidden from all other forces but his worst enemy, he made a decree to none but himself, looking the phantom in the eye and saying, ¡°Fuck you. I will kill you for tainting his memory. Then, I¡¯ll find whatever shithead made you and kill them, too.¡± Judas chuckled, a cold, mocking sound as he stated, ¡°And so? What is the point? Where does this drive even come from? It would mean your death in the end, too.¡± In spite, Dante grinned, unshaken and agreeing, ¡°So be it. I¡¯ve been ready to die since I was a child. What is there to life, if not an impossible task to seize? I¡¯ve always felt lost, wandering these lightless seas without a torch to guide me. Now... I have one. I can sense the enormity of the Lightsea¡ªand I want to climb it.¡± For a split second, Judas¡¯s grin faltered, his form flickering in the strange, shifting space. Something in the being''s confidence wavered. This pitiful human was getting under its skin. Dante sensed something between the two of them, a fleeting, shimmering sensation of connection that vanished before he could grasp it. Judas recovered quickly, and before he disappeared, he left Dante with one preeminent insult by adding, ¡°A worm like you could never kill me. You will die on this crusade of yours. The best part? I¡¯ll be there to laugh at your corpse." With that, the void began to crumble around Dante, reality creeping back in. He could feel the insensitive weight of his body returning¡ªhis fingers, his toes, all under his control once more. The darkness lingered, but Dante didn¡¯t mind. For better or worse, this silence was a rare gift. Here, the endless noise of the waking world didn¡¯t assault his senses. It let him breathe, with a profound peace. Dante could adapt and settle into the planet¡¯s clangor. He had been trained for it. But he didn¡¯t like it. Not that he liked much of anything. People had called him an android and accused him of being too controlled, too detached. It was an insult worse than any other to a person; the history with ¡®Breathing-Metals¡¯ was too deep. These people wished he¡¯d disappear like the thinking machines of old. None of them knew the real him. Not even close. The real Dante Penance wasn¡¯t the controlled, unsympathetic figure others saw. He was a man barely holding himself together, waging war within his mind and soul with every breath. He had a bottomless pit of hatred and loathing that he held for a scarce few. Those emotions were what had kept Dante alive for such a long time. He had been kidnapped, drug halfway across a Sector, and teeth ripped from him for his captor¡¯s fun. It was that hatred that let him tear the rope and kill his way off that starship. A deep inhale filled his chest, calm washing over Dante like a wave even as he recalled his past. He knew the battle would solely deteriorate. He prepared himself, ready for whatever might come. Nothing would be easy. He doubted most of his companions would make it to the end of the journey. They rarely did. Most quit or died. Or betrayed. Rejo was his oldest ¡®friend¡¯ so far. Barely over one year of working together. It hurt to think about it, but Dante hesitated to believe the Araki would see the finale. The darkness lifted in an instant as Dante bolted upright, sweat clinging to every inch of his body. His crew lay sound asleep, oblivious to his sudden alarm. Like a panther from his ancestors¡¯ home world, he stood and studied the two resting forms in silence. Sonna... she¡¯s a terrible spy. She broke so easily on the Starsinger. The thought drifted into his mind as he scrutinized her further. Why was she sent on that mission? Was it to die? The idea gnawed at him. Internal politics? No... it doesn¡¯t track. It must be something else. Family, maybe. She¡¯s tied to someone powerful. Someone important. Maybe even a Seafarer. That would explain everything. Four hours of sleep brought a sharpness to Dante¡¯s mind, revealing details he hadn¡¯t seen before. Despite his thoughts drifting to Rejo, he endeavored to set aside the burgeoning sense of attachment. He¡¯s useful. A decent weapon. Not a bad drinking partner, either. Funny. Too unserious, though. I''ll have to be careful with him. Dante allowed himself the agonizing thought, knowing full well what came next. It would be a shame if he died. He might. Like the others. A sigh escaped him as he realized there was no way to remove that attachment. Rejo hadn¡¯t betrayed him. That meant more than anything else the Araki had ever done. Can someone really refuse hundreds of thousands of credits? A chance at the supernatural? For what? Dante? Some detached human? No matter how Dante thought about it, he couldn¡¯t figure out why Rejo chose what he had. Dante had few friends. So few. Just about all who had ever saddled up with him were dead and buried. As such, the crimson face of the Araki settled into his mind. The human was incapable of betraying Rejo. I¡¯ll... do what I can so that doesn¡¯t happen. He... believes in me too much, and I like that. I like that a lot. Still, he signed up for this. There¡¯s nothing more I can do but try to keep him alive. Here¡¯s hoping his Qualae isn¡¯t as vicious as mine. Thankfully, it already seems so. I would have caught him whispering to himself or dozing off. He''s too simple for anything else. Dante turned from the sleeping forms, slipping his coat on as the rhythm of rain thumped against the windows. With one last glance over his shoulder, he headed for the door, determined to return before they awoke. It had been years since he¡¯d last set foot on this cursed planet. She was here, after all, one of the few nightmares that still haunted him from his childhood. His boots splashed through the rain-soaked streets as he walked, eyes drawn to the towering neon lights of the sleepless megacity. The last visit here, six out of ten of his crew had died. This time, no one would die. He would make sure of it¡ªwhatever it took. Dante had his bomb, a backup plan to blast through the several-foot-thick prison walls in case things went sideways. However, he still needed a way to get in. For that, there was only one person he could trust. She was not as crucial to the grand plan as Archimedes, but still essential. Though trust was a strong word. Dante held near-zero faith in this individual¡¯s personality, but he was utterly confident in their skills. Additionally, with the dream he just had... She was the sole figure he could rely on to do what was necessary should the evils in his mind emerge. The human wound his way through the twisting streets, constantly glancing over his shoulder, alert for any sign of trouble. He didn¡¯t know where the alleyway was located. Despite that fact, Dante still knew where to look. Skinwalker always left subtle clues¡ªone just had to be observant enough to spot them. Dante gripped the curved steel bar embedded in the wall and tugged. The metal gave way with a wet sound, like skin being peeled back, revealing a hidden entrance. Rainwater trickled along the edges, glistening under the faint glow of nearby lights, just enough to show what lay beyond. A dark, narrow corridor spiraling down into the depths of the planet. Joan always had a flair for secrecy. Beside the corridor was a thin vent, scarcely the size of a rat. Dante noted the possible exit for the ¡®doctor¡¯ and prepared himself. She only mastered those Biotics from studying his genome. Dante descended into the depths, welcoming the embrace of darkness. With a quick tap on the module on his wrist, a light flickered to life, casting sharp beams across the corridor¡¯s walls. Bloodstains and grime streaked the metal, and as his nose wrinkled, he knew the blood was fresh. Too fresh. His mind whirred with the implications, but instinct had already taken over. His hand found his revolver, pulling it free from its holster. The weapon trembled in the human¡¯s grip, not merely from fear but from withdrawal, too. He stared at the shaking gun for a moment, silently commanding it to still. It didn¡¯t. Here was where nightmares haunted him. The blood on the walls only made it worse. Dante had to do this. He needed her help, and he knew she would provide. Dante pressed on, exhaling gradually. It always started with the hands. The tremors were just the beginning¡ªnext would come the sweats, the panic, the breakdowns. To his dual dismay and bliss, there was no time. Something nagged at him to hurry. A scream echoed from deep within the base, sharp and gut-wrenching. The voice was familiar¡ªand unpleasant. Dante didn¡¯t hesitate anymore, despite the shakes. He sprinted forward, down the twisting stairs, until he stumbled into a large hallway. The sight stopped him in his tracks. Corpses lined the walls, their entrails spilled across the floor in a grotesque display of carnage. Blood pooled beneath the bodies, seeping into the cracks of the floor. Before he could fully take in the horror, another scream pierced the air, sending a chill down his spine. Instinct kicked in. Without a second thought, Dante dove behind an overturned medical bed, disappearing into the shadows without a sound. As if drawn to his presence, the creature responsible for the massacre lumbered toward him from the far end of the hallway. Its heavy footfalls crushed the corpses beneath it, each step accompanied by a sickening squelch. The sound reverberated through the hall, burrowing into Dante¡¯s skull. He couldn¡¯t identify the thing, but he knew it wasn¡¯t a Seafarer¡ªnot even a Lightlost or a Dirge. This wasn¡¯t just madness. This was something far worse. Monstrous. Again, Dante had to curse his luck. It indeed was something awful. What the hell have you been experimenting with, Joan? Why the Depths did I have to walk in on it? As the monster closed in, Dante¡¯s gaze flickered to the green-skinned figure drenched in blood beside him, unable to intervene. The Reiki was as good as dead with the gaping hole in its chest, for no help was coming. Desperation clawed at his mind, but his thoughts spiraled in a whirlwind of conflicting voices. One urged him to run, telling him he didn¡¯t need Joan or her expertise. Another screamed that he should fight¡ªhe was a Seafarer now, wasn¡¯t he? Even if newly bonded with his Qualae and unable to summon a Tide, he had a Stigmata. With each thundering step taken by the monster, another thought formed. Nevertheless, Dante couldn¡¯t focus on a single one. Dante damned the absence of Nullify, the chem that silenced the chaos in his mind. Without it, he was left alone with his fractured thoughts¡ªplans already warped by the drug¡¯s lingering effects. He¡¯d only used it twice. Twice, and already it had started to erode him again. It transcended the body, reaching the mind. His Stigmata only did so much to the cravings. The creature loomed nearer, its grotesque body casting a massive shadow over the overturned bed. Dante could feel the heat of its presence, the stench of decay flooding his senses. Just then, a whisper cut through the tension, ¡°Dante Penance? What in the Lights are you doing here?¡± He glanced up, spotting a pair of cowered antennae peeking from behind the corner, eyes swiveling to meet his. Joan. Before he could react, she slipped out of sight, leaving him alone with the approaching horror. His unexpected appearance left Joan Rafe, a notorious opponent of Sentient Rights, utterly dumbfounded as she hid herself. On the contrary, Dante expected to find her here. He would have scoffed at her reaction, except for one thing. The creature was almost upon him. 5 - Pyres Of Our Damned ¡°There are a million and one ways to manifest a Tide or channel drops from the ¡®Sea. Seven types, yes, but the sole limits are imagination, practice, and obduracy. I¡¯ve seen Cryos conjure continents of ice, only to have them melted by Thermos with their blistering heat. Yet, one Tide user stands above the rest. Legate Swane. The legends of her Tide¡­ Stigmata? Just a boon. A tool to add to your arsenal. True power lies in the Tides. Legate Swane was so skilled that she could destroy a planet with nothing more than the strength of her Humidified Knuckle. That woman... pray Congress never finds where she disappeared to, or that she succumbed to old age. If she and Vicar ever clash, they would wipe out whole Sectors. Now, you lot¡ªyou¡¯re leagues from mastery. But, as we say, Rome wasn¡¯t built in a day. Neither will your legend. Show me what you can do. Anyone who can top Rosa¡¯s expertise will get double rations. Except you, Claudius. You get quarter if your half-breed blood fails.¡± Dante¡¯s horror revealed a hulking figure, a grotesque blend of contorting flesh and steel. The metallized abomination pulsated like veins made of steel, and its meat was as rigid as iron, reflecting in the human¡¯s eyes. Just as it turned the corner, the barrel of a shotgun¡ªone with a beating heart at its center¡ªpressed against the side of its head. A deafening explosion followed, sending the creature reeling with a hideous roar. Out of the smoke emerged a slim figure, dragging Dante into another room. Unable to register the slam of the door behind him, he stumbled with his head spinning from the lack of Nullify in his system. Then, he found himself pulled through a hole in the room¡¯s side and into another before he could react. When his vision cleared, he was face-to-face with the last person he expected to see. Was this luck? No. There is no one else he could find here. Only one would survive such a monster long enough for help to arrive. Then again, only one could create such a thing, too. Dante never surrounded himself with the weak, and this woman was anything but. Joan Rafe met him with a grimace, but she wasn¡¯t happy to see him. ¡°We have little time,¡± the ¡®doctor¡¯ said, reloading the shotgun with practiced efficiency. Two of her four slim eyes locked onto him while her antennae twitched in greeting. ¡°That thing won¡¯t stay down for long.¡± Dante, still processing the madness, unlocked his mouth and asked, ¡°What is that thing? A Seafarer? Dirge?¡± Joan shook her head, her antennae drooping. Regret etched her face as she whispered hurriedly, ¡°No. I don¡¯t mess with those things¡ªI¡¯d rather not have my head turned into a toilet. I found some old human tech¡­ spliced it with a few prisoners the wardens delivered. Now we¡¯ve got to kill Frankenstein.¡± ¡°We?¡± Dante said as he tossed his hands, incredulous. She even named it after one of his stories. But Joan nodded as though the matter was settled. ¡°Yes. Come up with something for me, will you? I need the chip in its brain. Valuable data for my newest Biotic. I¡¯m sure you came here for something¡ªdon¡¯t act like you showed up for nothing. Help me, and I¡¯ll help you. No questions asked,¡± Joan told him with a sigh, the rumbling of Frankenstein¡¯s approach echoing through the hallways. Dante wouldn¡¯t get a better deal than this. Was this fate? Or some cruel setup? An unspoken prayer answered. Or a trap? A free yes from the renowned Skinwalker? The woman who had tormented him as a child? Sure, she cared more about research than anything else, but... He shot Joan a suspicious glance, his paranoia spiking like a crazed alarm. However, it never reached its peak. From behind him came a soft, chittering laugh. Dante turned to see his younger brother, aged and grinning. Judas snickered, finding amusement in Dante¡¯s caution. ¡°You get one lucky break after years of misfortune, and you think it¡¯s some kind of setup? Get over yourself. The universe doesn¡¯t care that much about you. It¡¯s just luck. Now die. Or don¡¯t. It¡¯s whatever, really,¡± Judas stated as the phantom existing only in his mind, proposing the simplest solution. But... his paranoia warred against the temptation, the safety net that had kept him alive all these years. It couldn¡¯t be that easy. And... why would Judas want him to take this deal? Is he trying to psyche him out? ¡°Dante? Answer me,¡± Joan ordered while her secondary arms hung beneath her first pair, gripped his shoulder and shook him back into reality. With her words, he could ignore the mind-plague for the time being. Dante nodded and set his terms, ¡°I¡¯ll help, but I need your help to break API out of Lightjar. The kid doesn¡¯t deserve to be there.¡± Joan¡¯s insides produced snorting laughter that she struggled to keep down. Perhaps, she was in a terrible position, her life seemingly on the line, but the irony of what Dante had said was too much for her to control. With laughter bubbling up despite the situation, Joan couldn¡¯t help but cough, ¡°You? Caring about that kid? Please. You¡¯re after something, and that¡¯s fine. I accept. But you¡¯ll pay for any serums I have to use.¡± Dante agreed without hesitation. He had no desire to see her¡­ Biotics¡­ unless absolutely necessary. They shook on the deal, and Dante pressed her hand into his palm, his mind sharpening despite Judas¡¯ presence in the back of his thoughts. Joan¡¯s antennae twitched, and she offered a rare, genuine smile, saying, ¡°That¡¯s the Dante I remember. Two generations of Penances. Let¡¯s hope I never meet a third.¡± Dante ignored her cruel nostalgia, his mind already working. The creature survived her shotgun blast¡ªstunned, maybe hurt, but far from dead. It¡¯s probably immune to drugs and poisons, knowing Joan¡¯s work. Suffocation might work. But how? His gaze fell on a jar filled with an unknown liquid and floating organs. The stench made his nose crinkle. He grabbed it, dumped the contents onto the floor, and examined the jar. It might function as a makeshift breathing tank if placed over my mouth and nose. Not for long, but maybe long enough. That could be the difference between life and death. Most sentients breathe oxygen, carbon dioxide, or nitrogen. Otherwise, they need a breathing tank like a Gwek. This thing? It likely couldn¡¯t last two minutes without air. And something that big? It¡¯d burn through its supply even faster. With a plan forming, Dante turned to Joan and asked, ¡°Where¡¯s your control center? You could funnel gas in¡ªcan you pull it all out?¡± The ideas within hinged on his own experiences, the sudden chemicals in a sealed room flashing through his mind. Joan countered his idea while agreeing with the initial possibility, ¡°Probably. But what about me? I¡¯m not human like you. I can¡¯t hold my breath long.¡± The older woman who had worked with his father long ago in the past knew very well the ins and outs of the human body. After all, it was Dante himself she had experimented with to pay for his father¡¯s excavations. The patient¡¯s record on holding his breath? Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Eight minutes without pure oxygen. Fifteen with it. ¡°That¡¯s what this jar is for,¡± Dante replied with a grimace. ¡°It¡¯ll buy you time. Just get me to the control center.¡± The woman sighed in agreement, finally agreeing to the near-suicidal plan. While shaking her head, she crept toward the exit of the upturned patient room they were in. The human followed her into the hallway, letting the ¡®doctor¡¯ lead. Dante¡¯s mind raced as he and Joan navigated the maze of corridors, keeping low to the ground. They moved from fallen debris to doorways, pausing only when the distant rumble of the creature¡¯s movements allowed them a moment¡¯s reprieve. The two slipped in and out of rooms, carefully avoiding the monster¡¯s detection with every step. This was Joan''s home, her lab, and yet she didn''t seem to care despite all the death. It was as if this was a typical Friday for her. Nothing more. Nothing less. The man''s heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a war drum. Every time they ducked behind cover, his breath hitched in his throat. The closer they got to their destination, the worse it became. The creature seemed to linger longer with each step, its movements growing more erratic. As they reached the final doorway before the command center, the creature suddenly turned. Dante grabbed Joan, yanking her back just in time to avoid being spotted. They froze, pressed together against the wall, barely breathing as the sound of the monster¡¯s nostrils filled the surrounding space with heavy winds. ¡°Cutting it pretty close, huh? Just let her go. You don¡¯t need her to transfigure a body for the prison. Break in, break out¡ªwhat will they do, shoot you? Let go. She¡¯s just a mortal. You¡¯re lucky if she survives until tomorrow.¡± The fear and adrenaline coursing through Dante wasn¡¯t just from the monster. Judas was there, his voice dripping with sarcasm, urging Dante to make reckless decisions. The voice entered his mind directly, not even passing through the air. Part of him knew Judas was right¡ªhe didn¡¯t need Joan. That wasn¡¯t to mention how much he hated her. He loathed every part of her, from her cryptic mind to her tremorless hands. But Dante had made a deal. He shook on it. The human way. That wasn¡¯t a promise he could break. He had abandoned much of himself. Too much. His word was one thing he could not leave behind, for he was terrified of the man he could become. Judas¡¯ voice sharpened his focus, but it gnawed at his nerves, too. The creature¡¯s rumbling faded after several moments, giving them a note of calm. Joan glanced back at Dante, offering a quick nod of thanks, her antennae wriggling in unison with her head. With their next movement, they finally reached the command center, only to find the door locked from the inside. Dante¡¯s heart sank, his mind halting as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Breaking in would make too much noise, alerting the monster instantly. But abandoning the plan wasn¡¯t an option. This was the only way to kill the creature without damaging the chip. One of his explosives would break the deal, and Joan was a stickler with these things. There was a slim chance he could harness the Lightsea to help, but that kind of gamble wasn¡¯t Dante¡¯s style. He would think his way out first and only resort to violence if he couldn¡¯t weasel away. Desperation clawed at him. Still, he¡¯d rather put his life in his own hands than rely on an unknown force. He pressed his handgun against the lock, his aim trembling¡ªnot from fear, but from withdrawal. Joan might¡¯ve thought it was fear, but Dante didn¡¯t care. Joan¡¯s eyes dilated in dread, and she whispered harshly to the man, ¡°Stop! You¡¯ll bring it right to us!¡± Dante ignored her. He fired a round into the door handle, the deafening crack reverberating through the underground lab. The sound rang in his ears, momentarily disorienting him, but a more terrible noise snapped him back into focus. A bone-chilling roar echoed through the walls, shaking the steel around them and chilling both people¡¯s veins. Nevertheless, the lock held. With gritted teeth, Dante fired once more. And again. The third shot finally shattered the lock, so he shoved Joan through the door without hesitation. Upon entering, they discovered a motionless technician slumped over the console, with pooled blood staining the floor from a grievous wound. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Joan ignored the body, rushing to the controls to pull the oxygen from the room. Dante crouched beside the dead man. He gently closed the technician¡¯s eyes with two fingers, not offering a prayer, but silently wishing his family the best. Prayer didn¡¯t come easily to him. Then, he casually turned toward the doorway, the monster¡¯s growl growing louder every second. Dante¡¯s troubled mind spun with considerations, calculations, ticking seconds, and last-minute epiphanies. The ground trembled under the beast¡¯s weight as it neared, its monstrous form looming into view. Grotesque flesh melded with living metal as Frankenstein, as Joan called it, let out a howl that rattled the low ceiling. The bone-shaking noise caused Joan to stumble, nearly losing her grip on the controls. But to Dante? His heart slowed, his palms dried, and his hands steadied. The allure and beating drum of desire in his mind faded. Then, his mind... fell sober. ¡°Now that! That¡¯s what I like to see! The real you.¡± Ignoring the phantom within his mind, Dante strode through Judas¡¯ intangible form and into the hallway proper. He needed to buy Joan time for this thing to suffocate to death. Frankenstein¡¯s hulking heaves of air told such an obvious tale as it charged right for him. Dante bounced from foot to foot, thanking his sleep for recovering whatever the Lightsea did to him. He took only a fraction of a second to stabilize himself before the lights flickered overhead, casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls. As if on cue, the fans paused, then reversed, pulling the air from the room and creating a vacuum with a terrible whirl. Neither creature cared. Not the mindless monster nor the human, who relished in the clarity of not thinking. They both rushed toward each other, driven by violence. Frankenstein roared, claws outstretched, steel gleaming from exposed flesh. Dante met him with a howl of pure adrenaline. The dancing shadows, cast by the sudden influx of power, made it appear that those two shaded monsters met each other in their soulless dashes. But Dante never fought on his enemy¡¯s terms. Frankenstein lunged, its massive body blotting out the lights. As its steel claws swiped for his throat, Dante twisted sharply, sliding beneath the hulking abomination. While under the beast, he raised both revolvers and fired, the gunshots thundering in the enclosed space. The bullets tore into Frankenstein¡¯s flesh, but it didn¡¯t hinder him in the slightest. Dante coiled back onto his feet, realizing with a sinking dread that he was slower than Frankenstein. The monster swiped at him, spittle flying as it roared. Dante, though surprised, reacted swiftly, skirting the massive claws that grazed his side, tearing through his shirt as he bounced off the wall. A medical bed crashed to the floor, blocking his retreat. Dante staggered backward on his feet, pain shooting through his body. Behind him, he could hear Joan working frantically at the controls, the air in the lab growing thinner by the second. Dante¡¯s lungs labored as if standing on top of a mountain. He could hold his air for many minutes, but that was when motionless and with a steady heartrate. This was anything but the ideal circumstance. Frankenstein¡¯s eyes locked onto him, filled with malevolent rage, oblivious to the impending doom. Or maybe it just didn¡¯t care. It lunged again. Dante fired two more shots, aiming for its head. The bullets hit, but the creature only recoiled with splattering muscle, its rage unabated. Dante¡¯s augments groaned under the strain as he sidestepped, narrowly avoiding another strike from its ruthless claws. Dante was fast. Faster than any normal human could be without metal and technology in their veins. He was beyond all but those who touched on the Lightsea. He could run a mile in two minutes flat, yet even he was struggling to keep up with Frankenstein. Worse still, the air grew thinner, and Dante felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The monster faltered, too, its movements slowing, but the attack was already in motion. Dante raised his right arm, bracing himself, knowing there was no escaping the hit with his back now against a wall. Unfortunately, the hallway was too occupied with bodies and debris for him to evade any longer. Just like the specimens that had piqued Joan¡¯s interest, Dante bore the blow¡¯s weight. A meteoric fist of claws punched his left arm, shattering his limb and spearing through. Despite the damage, he held the momentum, stopping it just before it reached his heart. Dante grinned through bloodied teeth, scarcely drawing another breath. Frankenstein tried to rip its fist free, but Dante¡¯s hand clamped down like iron, holding it in place. The creature raised its other arm for a killing blow, but it staggered, the heavy limb drooping before it could strike. Joan had done it¡ªthe oxygen was nearly gone. The creature roared, a primal sound of fury, but its strength was waning as it wasted what little air remained. Frankenstein lulled to the side, its eyes dulling. Dante stepped back as the monster fell to its knees, gasping for air. Its razor-sharp claws slid out of his arm, seizing chunks of flesh. In seconds, blood poured from the five gaping wounds, half a pint lost in moments. Without access to the Lightsea, it would take months to heal and rehabilitate. Weeks with money. Days with loads of it. Some people could even die of it, no matter how rich. Joan could shunt that time down to a day or so with her expertise, but she isn''t normal. I wonder how much the Lightsea can do? Are the rumors of the secrets deeper in the galaxy true? Can... people indeed warp reality to their whims? Dante¡¯s oxygen-deprived brain struggled to focus as Joan held the air for another minute, ensuring Frankenstein¡¯s demise. The extra sixty seconds were too much, and Dante dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Eight minutes had been his record¡ªwhile meditating, not bleeding out. Colors flittered in and out of Dante¡¯s mind as he reached for the Lightsea. It was a risk, but he had overestimated himself again, something he wished he did less often. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it. Just take a little slurp. How else are you going to get stronger? You¡¯ve got talent. I mean it!¡± Judas¡¯ mocking voice grated at him, but Dante hated he was doing precisely what the bastard wanted. Yet, he didn¡¯t have a choice. Sure, he could survive the injury, but he wouldn¡¯t be at his peak for the coming jailbreak. He had to do this, or Archimedes¡¯ execution would be here before he was better, even if Joan gave him her experimental drugs. Groaning, he waded through the fatigue and the black spots in his vision, reaching for that sublime current in the universe. Like a hound catching the scent of prey, Dante¡¯s head snapped upward, his eyes rolling back uncontrollably. He shook as an ocean of light flooded his vision. His lungs stopped burning. His arm stopped bleeding. But his hands began that familiar, near-imperceptible tremor¡ªthe one he hated. A sharp pat on the back jolted him from his thoughts, ¡°Knew you¡¯d come through, Dante. Now, let¡¯s get this chip out of Frankenstein¡ª¡± Joan stopped mid-stride, staring at him, stunned. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Joan dropped the scalpel she¡¯d been holding for Frankenstein, staring at Dante in shock. She stuttered in reverse, but Dante was too drained by the Lightsea¡¯s infusion to respond. It wasn¡¯t as bad as a moment prior, but the air in the hallway was still thin, not fully replenished. He wasn¡¯t like Joan, who had already secured an oxygen mask. ¡°Are you...¡± Joan hesitated, studying Dante¡¯s unblinking eyes. ¡°Either you¡¯re on a batch of chems I¡¯ve never heard of before, which is impossible, or... you¡¯re Possessed.¡± Dante shook his head, annoyed by her dual hatred and infatuation with Seafarers and Psionics, ¡°Don¡¯t say that. I¡¯m in full control. Now get your damn chip.¡± Possessed¡ªthat word grated on him. Few used it to describe Seafarers, remnants from an old age, and those possessed hated it for good reason. Dante pushed himself to his feet, still wobbling from the Lightsea¡¯s strain, while Joan watched him with vigilance. He flipped his arms out, feigning normalcy enough to make Joan back off. But he was never alone. Not anymore. ¡°See? Felt good, huh? Imagine it. You could do anything with enough practice. Sure, it feels rough right now, but it''ll get better over time. How about you ask that... hmm... what was her name? Ah! Sonna. She has the smell of my kind. From a long time of contact. How about you have her help you step into my home?¡± Judas leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Dante sighed, not answering aloud. He briefly considered it, then promptly disregarded the notion. It¡¯s just a ruse. Sure, Sonna led the Federation of Flesh¡¯s mission with an Old One as the attack vector, but that doesn¡¯t mean she knows how to use the Lightsea. Why would she? Hmm... Dante tapped his chin with his fingers, contemplating the issue. He finalized his earlier hypothesis that Sonna must be a higher-up¡¯s child. Who is to say she wasn¡¯t kin of a true and blue Seafarer? And a powerful one? The idea sunk into Dante¡¯s mind like a virus, something he couldn¡¯t remove despite the risk. What if she knew wrongly? Or if she told him what to do to kill him? Paranoia struck into indecision. He flip-flopped between it being unwarranted and painfully obvious until Joan was done. The woman held a tiny digital chip between her fingertips with a smile and said, ¡°See? All done. Now, could you get me out of here? With a disaster like this... the locals will be on my ass. Contracts and blackmail mean little with this much... unsavoriness. Plus, I want to hear about what treasure you unearthed.¡± Dante nodded before striding through the devastated bodies and bloodstained hallway toward the exit. Dante¡¯s steps slowed, both in silent respect and from fatigue. The Lightsea placed a unique burden upon the body with each use and the passage of time. The man could tell he was getting acclimated to it, but not fast enough to his liking. Still, his mind sauntered out of his body, deep in thought. Maybe... just maybe, Sonna¡¯ll be helpful for something other than fodder. After climbing the stairs upward, Dante stepped back into the alleyway. He shifted his head upward, grinning as he felt the rains wash away the sins that hitched a ride within the lab. Crimson departed his flesh and clothes as he relished the droplets with sealed eyes. Then he opened them. It had been a few hours. The other two were likely awake. It was time to fetch them before they missed their transport. 6 - Into the Siren’s Fire Judge 001833, Untitled, Designation Tide-Seer, has landed at Crislend Starport. His stay should be brief¡ªrefueling before continuing his mission to rendevous with Praetor Spiro of House Argent. We have word Sunwin is to send him into the Lost Reaches. Do not antagonize him. Do not provoke him. Cater to his needs. He may be young, but those Judges are the most terrifying from sheer talent. And Baron Moss, for the love of everything, keep quiet about the eggs. We are almost ready to claim the Inferose. Now is not the time to jeopardize it all. Be extraordinarily careful. He may only be a half-Seer from the fallen House Vermillion, but that won¡¯t stop him from sniffing you out. Remember, your life guarantees your family¡¯s sovereignty in Newlends. Die with pride, Moss. The future has just begun. Dante and Joan stumbled through puddles, their boots splashing as they made their way to the shabby door of a cheap hotel hidden among the endless neon lights of the nightless megacity. It was challenging to stay unseen while they traversed the streets, but they both had plenty of experience. By the time they reached the entrance, they were drenched¡ªsoaked through by rain mixed with blood. The rising sun had done little to ward off the relentless downpour. Dante paused, hand raised to knock, then hesitated. His paranoia warred with his ambition. He tilted his head, listening for sounds inside. With a sharp glance at Joan, Dante stated, ¡°I don¡¯t hear anything.¡± The ¡®doctor¡¯ crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows, but a sharp voice from down the hall interrupted her before she could speak. ¡°Where the hell have you been? And who¡¯s that?¡± Sonna stormed toward them, her slight frame shaking with irritation. Dante could almost swear he saw wisps of smoke emanating from her like a toy train. Rejo loomed behind her, his bulk only slightly obscured by her presence. Dante sighed, rapping on the door anyway as he opened it. He was too tired for this, and it wasn¡¯t even noon. ¡°I was out recruiting help,¡± The man nodded to his growing crew, stepping aside to introduce Joan. ¡°This is Joan. An old acquaintance... and a specialist in biology, medicine, and chemistry. Joan, meet Sonna and Rejo.¡± Joan smiled a grin that didn¡¯t quite reach her many eyes as she scanned the newcomers like specimens under a microscope. The fingers on her four arms twitched without a tool to hold. Sonna shuddered, and Rejo¡¯s stance shifted subtly, a low growl rumbling in his throat. ¡°A pleasure,¡± Joan tongued smoothly, her gaze lingering on Rejo. ¡°Dante, you¡¯re putting together quite... the crew.¡± Before she could snap, Dante cut off Sonna and saw through the poorly veiled lie. He couldn¡¯t let the situation progress as it was, saying, ¡°No bickering. Joan¡¯s with us now, and she knows about the thing. Do you need a lab to work your magic? Remember, I need a permanent mask.¡± Dante¡¯s inquiry left his crew puzzled, but they all listened to him for the time being, Sonna out of worry and Rejo from trust as he had heard stories of the Skinwalker from Dante. They filed into the dingy room after the brief discussion. Once inside, Joan set her bulging suitcase on the rickety dining table, flipping it open with a click. Inside was an arsenal of illegal tech¡ªdevices for removing limiters, shutting off pacemakers, and plenty more forbidden contraptions. Impossible healing serums and even life-extension pills. But Joan ignored those for now, reaching instead for vials of bubbling, toxic-looking liquid. ¡°Permanent masks aren¡¯t easy. I¡¯ve gotten better, though,¡± the doctor explained while moving her many arms and pulling out the materials she needed. ¡°Given your condition, it is reversible, though. Sit. I need a photo of the criminal.¡± Joan gestured to the stained chair. Sonna and Rejo watched in fascinated horror as Joan lathered Dante¡¯s skin with an acidic substance. He winced, but sat still as she worked while explaining the upcoming plan. Meanwhile, Sonna¡¯s curiosity got the better of her. ¡°What happened to you? Where did all the blood come from?¡± the Weren asked, frowning. Between Dante and Joan, they explained the events of the day¡ªthe fight in Joan¡¯s lab, the escape, and the trek back to the hotel. Sonna¡¯s expression darkened with every detail while Rejo grinned, clearly enjoying the story. ¡°You broke into an underground lab and killed a freak like that?¡± Sonna questioned, skeptical of every minute detail. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done worse,¡± Dante admitted, his eyes narrowing. He laid out the plan with acid on his skin. How he would penetrate the transport with one of Joan¡¯s Rat Biotics, and then he¡¯d use the mask to impersonate the man after forcibly transforming him with another Rat. Once inside, he¡¯d find API and break him out. ¡°You¡¯re stupid,¡± Sonna declared. ¡°Ah. That¡¯s what the bomb¡¯s for,¡± Rejo added shortly thereafter in understanding. Dante ignored their contrasting reactions, detailing the next steps. While he infiltrated the prison, they would stage a bank robbery nearby to create enough chaos to reroute the prisoner transport onto a specific street and to lower their guards in the prison. That¡¯s when Dante would make his move. The moment Joan finished here, he needed them to leave. The timetable was rough because of the battle in the lab and the discrete journey back. Sure, the prisoner Joan had found in her log was soon to leave for Lightjar from a nearby jail, but directly attacking the caravan would cause too much suspicion and run out the timer on Joan¡¯s Biotic.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. He was cutting things close, but that was his only option. Archimedes¡¯ execution was approaching in only a handful of days, and given the workings of Crislend prisons, there was a pretty high chance they would randomly reschedule it. If Dante was truly sailing for the center of the stars, he could not take that gamble. There was no time to wait for another prisoner to be admitted. Joan¡¯s information here was essential for his decision, as the next one was a week from now. Too long. In the chaos, the human would do as he always had done and follow the plan until he had to change it on the fly. Joan nodded along with the outline, acting as though all was fine and expected. But not all were in agreement. Sonna clenched her fists and spoke, ¡°You can¡¯t go out there alone again. You almost died this morning!¡± Dante, now unrecognizable with his altered appearance, his skin gray with bloodshot sclera like a Tianshe, laughed and asked, ¡°What do you expect? You¡¯re not cut out for undercover work. Don¡¯t know how you were chosen to rob me, less how I let it happen. Rejo can¡¯t even speak without translators. As for Joan, interesting objects or bleeding bodies distract her." Sonna opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. She knew he was right. Her shoulders sagged. She realized her futility in that scenario. Dante might have put it rudely, but the woman wasn¡¯t stupid. She desired control over her own life. Was that so much to ask for? She didn¡¯t know. No one had ever given it to her. Without that longed control, however, her eyes drifted toward the floor. She tried to hide it, but the human picked up on this gesture of emotion. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡± Dante added, softening. The man apologized, knowing he might have taken it too far, but he pivoted it elsewhere just as Sonna thought he would be genuine. ¡°Your father or mother... they¡¯re a Seafarer, right? A Psion maybe?¡± Dante was decent at establishing relationships. But he was awful at placing them above his own desires. Some would call that manipulation, but he just boxed it away to be ignored with Nullify. Sonna blinked, surprised by the shift, but her response was delayed as she asked, ¡°Yeah. My dad. Why?¡± By this time, Dante¡¯s entire body had changed, and it made Sonna uncomfortable, her voice shifting all over. Joan placed a few finishing touches and then stepped back, peeking between the picture in her hand and the Tianshe before her. With a nod, she stepped back to her tools, already packing them up. Neither mentioned the price of the procedure, typically in the low hundreds of thousands of credits, enough to feed a village for years. Joan, however, put her hand out as they traded a card for a pair of tangy vials, a type of Joan¡¯s Biotics. ¡°I¡¯ll need you to write down everything you know about Seafarers,¡± Dante spoke, his focus refusing to yield on his current goals. ¡°I¡¯ll read it to Rejo later, but we need to understand how our powers work.¡± The Araki shook his fist in excitement before wrapping an arm around Sonna, the petite girl buried by his body. He then shouted straight into her ear, ¡°Yeah! I ¡®ant to fly!¡± Sonna slapped her own face at Rejo¡¯s dream, and she shattered it. She held nothing back from the two possessed men, stating, ¡°Seafarers are dangerous. You either get stronger fighting, or you turn into something worse than whatever you were fighting. I¡¯ve been... taught some... But... fine. I¡¯ll help. Only because I need you alive.¡± The Weren received a soft touch on her shoulder from Dante as the man finally acknowledged her. It was his words that brought a smile to her face as he said, ¡°Great. You might not do much to save Archimedes, but you can still help. The Lightsea wouldn¡¯t be used if pulling from it was too risky. Your father was protective. Don¡¯t be afraid to stray from his umbrella.¡± Dante spoke as if from his own experiences, something that Sonna raised an eyebrow at. Still, the Weren¡¯s heartbeat was irregular, though the human, despite noticing her stress, wrote it away as anxiety about her role. From there, he patted himself down, relinquishing most of his weapons to Rejo, who handed them to Sonna and Joan. A revolver, knife, and a modest container of rounds for each. Dante left the room, instructing Rejo and Sonna to listen to Joan as she took charge for now. He also emphasized not using any trackable weapons, as they needed to leave behind any advanced weaponry that technology could trace for their escapes. After leaving, the man made his way to the streets, ensuring that he kept his head down. Dante strode through the countless sea of people in the nightless city of Eratanm Step by step over the glistening concrete, he made his way to the point of their ambush. The plan wasn¡¯t perfect; nothing truly ever was, but he would get the best possible outcome in such a short time. He sat above the tight avenue of road that the vehicle would have to pass through. He could leap directly from a roof onto the transport. From there... Dante cradled the second-to-last dose of Nullify in his palms with the Biotics beside it. Twenty-four hours. I must finish this in one day. Not impossible. Just... difficult. Time for the old switcheroo. If only I had enough time to put Temps on the other three to act as guards. But no. That wouldn¡¯t work. There are six guards on this transport. At least Joan¡¯s Rat will make the man disappear for an hour. The human¡¯s mind constantly flew around within his skull, thinking of countless ideas and considerations that were tossed away one after another. The plan was already made. He just needed to execute it. Dante¡¯s eyes flew down to the syringes. Could he do it? With the shakes? He didn¡¯t know. Yet, he wanted to try. He so desperately wanted to believe in himself. But... Dante was not a gambler. Not truly. He¡¯d toss away one risk for another, but he couldn¡¯t just turn down a guarantee. It was a given at this point. The drug never failed to deliver. Maybe that¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t quit. The drug seeped into his veins, and the world slowed. Focus came, and unlike usual, it refused to leave. He was ready. At last, Dante was ready. Everything made sense, and Dante breathed serenely despite the chaos to come. Today, he would break a kid out of prison. For years he had wanted to come back for him, but he was afraid of attracting too much attention. Now, though... No matter what he did, hands would come for his head. Countless would seek his forbidden existence. Nevertheless, he was confident in his survival. Some would call it arrogance or ignorance. Perhaps even stupidity. But not Dante. His muscles relaxed as he awaited his prey, the poise arriving from years of such schemes. He had danced on a thousand tightropes, dangling from seas of knives, as he constantly ran toward an invisible, unknown destination. All the Lightsea had done was add some wind to his back. ******************** Once Dante was gone, the remaining three stood in awkward silence. While weighing the old-model firearm in her hands, Sonna piped up first, ¡°Are we really doing this?¡± She hadn¡¯t seen a weapon like this in all her life, but she supposed that was what made them impossible to track. ¡°You already ¡®amned a planet and a star to nothingness, girly,¡± Rejo uttered with honesty to Sonna. He struggled to understand why she was so against much of what Dante proposed. She wasn¡¯t some perfect lass. Joan, however, cleared it up with a sharp tone, demanding, ¡°Get rid of the indoctrination, woman. It¡¯s foolish. The Federation¡¯s enemies are not the only things that should die. You¡¯re smarter than that. Wake up. Let¡¯s go break some legs.¡± Sonna¡¯s brows furrowed in thought while a confused Rejo countered the scientist¡¯s phrase, ¡°I think that¡¯s ¡®rong. Isn¡¯t it ¡®eant to be said to someone else?¡± ¡°No.¡± Joan waved them off, already heading for the door. Rejo followed, but Sonna lingered behind, sitting alone in the empty room for a moment. Her eyes fell to the floor while her thoughts began to panic. Self-doubt filled her as she questioned her own abilities, despite having a role to play for the first time. Her hands rested on the sides of her face, struggling to put everything together. Panic raced within as she realizes how out of her depth she is. She lied to them. The woman was no daughter of some powerful figure. She didn¡¯t set up the attack on Dante¡¯s vessel whatsoever. Sonna was the true daughter¡¯s body double, and in her best efforts not to die, she took the young lady¡¯s defensive coat. Sonna watched Irys die before her, wasting into reality¡¯s fringes molecule by molecule from the Old One that had appeared. Irys was supposed to be chosen, given a wonderful gift amongst its arrival, not that the Old One knew that. Well, it might have and not cared. None could know besides the unknowable being. With a shiver, the young lady wiped the leaking tears from her eyes and stood. Her grassy pupils twisted to the unkempt windows, with a hope of tomorrow and a dream of what might come. They made her a body double, deeming her easily replaceable and unwanted. But she didn''t want to be replaceable anymore. So... she felt determined to keep up this lie as long as it took for her to be irreplaceable. After fixing her clothes so no one would suspect her while careful to go over the expensive suit-dress twice, she sprinted to catch up. Sonna refused to be left behind. Not again. Never. While doing so, the nail that had broken in her panicked scuffle with Irys lost its facade, revealing the removed cuticle. Sonna didn¡¯t notice, however, in too much of a hurry to keep up and terrified of what she was about to do. Robbing a bank was beyond anything she¡¯d ever done. She was used to smiling and waving, sometimes listening to Irys¡¯ complaints and rambles. This? She shuddered. Sonna didn¡¯t know how the human did it, not to mention how he¡¯d do the most burdensome parts all alone. It made her feel for him, imagining him to be lonely beneath the rough exterior. She decided to say something nice when she saw him next. Hopefully, that¡¯d cheer up his constant gloom. She couldn''t stand someone so... grim. 7 - Beckoning Depths Come The Martyr Alongside the other Houses that took part in the Panoply Of Daemons, House Vermillion and all its subjects shall be stripped of their ranks and titles. No longer do they have the right to any of the resources and benefits that befit a House or a Prime Citizen. That night, we lost not just several Houses. We lost the Drowned Dragon and all his wisdom. Such is an irredeemable sin. They are nothing but insignificant trash, with the crumbs left alive by their Head''s sacrifice. A ball bounced against a cracked stone wall that hid steel beneath it¡ªonce, twice, then thrice, over and over, endlessly in the dimness. With no lights and no sense of time, a man tossed a once-white, worn-out ball stitched with red leather. It was his only amusement source in his cell¡¯s black void. That, and the other inmates beyond the steel walls. If one could see his looks, they would be in awe. And lost in terror. His rippling muscles and fangs protruding from his lips marked him as something more than human, despite his resemblance to the foul beings. Even seated, his massive frame rivaled the standing height of the lanky Dilek on the other side of the wall. This man was a living weapon sculpted by genetics, chemicals, and brutal experience. Compared to the malnourished teen behind the wall at his back, the scarred giant seemed completely disparate. Yet here, in isolation, both had to fend off the crushing loneliness. After all, it had been the man¡¯s choice to come here. ¡°Psst. Lucius. You awake?¡± the young man¡¯s voice was scratchy, carried through a tiny, handmade device. It vibrated the wall, the only way he could speak to the mountain of muscle mere feet away. Lucius tapped his index finger against the wall, communicating the only way he could now. Thankfully, the young man, too, knew countless hidden codes. With such a disability, it took a great deal of time for him to spell it all out through the simple vibrations, ¡°Yes, Arch. Get some rest. Soon, we will be let out into general pop. There¡­ I can¡¯t always protect you in here.¡± Seconds of silence lingered while the young man scrambled to get his device working. He returned it to the wall, bearing his concerns to the only person he could trust, ¡°But... Lucius. My execution. It¡¯s coming up. I don¡¯t know what to do. I... I don¡¯t want to die. I haven¡¯t seen a particle accelerator! I haven¡¯t... I haven¡¯t built my starship from scratch! I haven¡¯t seen a black hole! I... I¡¯m scared.¡± Lucius released a long sigh from his chest. The man had witnessed many die. Many. It never got easier. Every night, he dreamt of those he¡¯d lost. Still¡­ in this cell¡­ there was nothing he could do. And it was going to happen again with Archimedes if Lucius didn¡¯t do something. Just a boy. He was just a boy. Typically, Arch couldn¡¯t even speak to others, let alone Lucius, but right now, he could bear his heart without his awful stammer. At least, less of it than usual. That meant more than most could realize. Lucius might be a Martian, engineered for warfare and feared across the stars, but he was still just one man. If given enough time, he could break out of these chains and escape this prison. Breaking things and killing those in his way was what he was trained to do. However, this time was an exception. Three hundred years, he had wandered the stars, and only now had his hair began to gray. Before he responded to Archimedes, Lucius ran his fingers through the greasy strands. The boy reminded him of Zachariah, his son. Oh, how Lucius wished he could cry. But no¡ªthe Wheel of Floods had stolen that from him long ago. This boy, too, was destined to die. There was nothing that Lucius could do. He was helpless beyond what he had already done, saving him twice from assassination attempts. Archimedes Pythagoras Isaac was too gifted for his own good. Too manipulated. Too¡­ na?ve. A prodigy in fields that outshone even the greats, doomed to die in this lightless pit. Why? Why would he die? Because the stars had no mercy. Lucius gripped his hair, pulling with the strength only a Martian could muster. Pain shot through him, but it didn¡¯t matter. Gasping, he released his hold. Born poor as shit. Forced to do countless crimes and passed around like a tool. Betrayed by those who vowed to shield him as a scapegoat. How could Arch not know? The only thing promised in these stars is that promises will be broken. But he didn¡¯t. The boy was still pure. To Lucius, that meant everything, and then some. After an entire minute of indecision, the Martian spoke with candor, ¡°I know, son. I know you¡¯re terrified. As am I. My execution is soon after yours. There is much I wish to do, too.¡± Regret sat heavy in both their hearts as they wasted away in Lightjar, each for their own crimes. One received a quick death sentence for destroying millions of credits, while the other was condemned to a slow and agonizing end for an incomplete revenge. Archimedes shuffled in his dark cell, scratching at his skin, leaving four perfect lines on each arm¡ªhe couldn¡¯t stand the imbalance if he only did it to one. No one knew how old the boy really was, somewhere between fourteen and sixteen. All anyone knew was that he was special, for even his race was vague from the malnutrition and faded scars. Unfortunately, he was not irregular enough to escape his fate. He stared down at the gadget in his hands, the device he cobbled together with the few pieces of tech he had hidden under his tongue and inside his ears before Lucius killed six prisoners to protect him. The piece was pitiful, forged from an electric toothbrush tossed into the trashcan and the microphone ripped out of a stand. Nevertheless, it was his, and as such, he grasped it with all his meager strength. He had few things. As such, he savored them until they were gone. Recalling the murders made Archimedes shiver. He could still feel the blood splattering across his face. The boy wiped at it compulsively despite nothing being there. Then he did it thrice more on the other side of his cheek. The cold, lifeless bodies. Isaac didn¡¯t want to end up like them. Like all the people he¡¯s seen die around him. Both men had graveyards of corpses left in their wakes; the only difference was that one had dug them himself. The strength of their wills revealed themselves as API hid in the corner of his undersized room. Trembling of a cold that had seeped into his bones, the young bones whimpered away to fitful slumber. Lucius, however, restored the throwing of his baseball. He would never lose it. The baseball was the only remnant of his childhood, of the labs that believed the Imperator hid in some unknown hole to return with glory. But more than that¡ªit had also been his son¡¯s favorite toy. Lucius had passed it down to his son, yet it had returned to him, stained with vermillion. Still, after only three tosses, he ceased, shifting the creases in his hand to peer at the intensely faded signature on the object. His thoughts fell to it, allowing him a momentary escape from the dingy hole. Babe Ruth. She must have been important in the past. Hmm¡­ I could sit here. It would be so easy. I already have killed most of them. I could rest and take that holiday Kara always asked me for. Tour after tour, I had no choice but to provide for them how I did. I could never stop fighting. If only¡­ I was there that day¡­Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. With a tight grip on the ball, the rough leather creaked under his palm. His eyes scanned the seams as if searching for an answer. Though, there was none. Only the shadows of his son lingered. That boy was hardly any older than the crying child locked away a handful of feet away. The realization brought Lucius¡¯ teeth together with a grinding ache. His lips didn¡¯t move in prayer¡ªthey hadn¡¯t since that night¡ªbut they whispered a promise. No matter how hollow it felt to speak, ¡°I¡¯ll get you out, Arch. Of it all. The crime. The blood¡­ Everything. I promise. You can take that vacation for me.¡± The Lucius stood to his full height, walking toward the lead door of his solitary confinement. His eyebrows sat at the height of the doorframe, so he had to squat to see through the tiny window out into the featureless hallway. Perfect alabaster teeth shined through the grate as Lucius stowed the ball. He had given up. Months ago was the last time he gazed further than his destined death. However, while he was ready for death, death was not ready for him. The Martian still had some life left in him yet. **************************************** At the corner of 867th Street by Malcome¡¯s Usury And Loans, the tall form of a scarlet-skinned Araki beamed just a scarce few feet from the double glass doors of the opulent bank. He stood within the dimness of an alley, hidden from sight while he admired the gem-lined windows reflecting the light of day and observed the suited patrons moving in and out with an air of wealth. Rejo glanced at the two beside him, the Surgeon Of Monsters herself and the paradoxical coward. He considered saying something encouraging, but soon thought better of it. Dante alone understood most of his words, anyway. To most, it was hard to comprehend half a sentence, let alone something such as inspiration. Joan was smart enough to pick up on a few hints, but still¡­ Rejo often felt alone. Surrounded by people, yet isolated. Not too different from home. A mask slid over Rejo Avan Reiche Teiane Loupel¡¯s face, tickling the tendrils that typically hide his mouth. Dante once told him he looked like the old monster that used to terrorize his people, the Predator. Every day, Rejo wore that memory with pride. With the mask on, an old-fashioned rifle in his palms, and a target to strike, he felt like one. Rejo cocked his weapon, making sure the shells it would fire were primed, and removed the safety. To him, this beat digging trenches and planting seeds any day. It got his blood running, and more than that... he was helping his captain toward their inevitable payday. Beside him, Sonna inhaled a long breath as Joan did the unthinkable. She turned to Sonna with a mischievous smile and asked, ¡°Why don¡¯t you take the lead? I tend to get... distracted when blood emerges. Plus, Rejo is... unpredictable. Don¡¯t you want to prove yourself?¡± Joan¡¯s offer came so casually that it stunned both of them. The idea of relinquishing control or authority was foreign, especially to Rejo. It felt wrong, even treacherous. Nonetheless, Joan seemed to give it away effortlessly, almost tauntingly, toward Sonna. She slipped on a new mask, her features morphing into those of a younger woman with smooth violet skin. Still, it could not hide her extra arms or eyes. Sonna hesitated, her tiny hands clenched into fists. Rejo saw her uncertainty and the fear that crept into her body language. It was something he loathed¡ªa cowardice that reminded him too much of his own people¡¯s subservient nature. A moment later, however, Sonna straightened her back, meeting Rejo¡¯s gaze before speaking with newfound resolve, ¡°Fine. It won¡¯t be much of a problem. I¡¯ve led bigger operations before. We¡¯ll do this right and do it good. Get some extra money in the process from the insurance companies.¡± Her words were sharp, and a thin smirk played on her lips. It wasn¡¯t the most confident smile, but it was something. Joan grinned beneath her mask of flesh, and even Rejo couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of amusement. The insurance companies¡ªthose fat, greedy establishments¡ªdeserved to be robbed. ¡°Right then,¡± Sonna continued, her voice steadying. ¡°Rejo, you¡¯re up. Let¡¯s get this show on the street.¡± Rejo¡¯s heart thumped loudly in his chest. He resisted the urge to correct her phrase, knowing Dante hated it when people butchered his language. However, he didn¡¯t utter a damn word, for this wasn¡¯t the time or place for corrections. His focus narrowed as he adjusted the grip on his rifle. The air inside the bank smelled of cold, sterile wealth. Everything glittered with gold and polished stone. To Rejo, it was something abominable, but also something he ironically wished to experience. The lavish interior distracted him for only a fraction of a second before his attention slid between the quiet murmur of patrons going about their business. Orderly like the trained soldier he was, Rejo went first and took aim with a shake of his arms. He fired rounds of his revolving rifle into the four guards at the front. They fell into a heap as their energy shields shattered with a brilliant flash. The shields saved their lives, but Rejo carried bullets specifically to incapacitate such things. Dante wouldn¡¯t tolerate murder, not here, not yet. He didn¡¯t want the heat. Rejo then sprinted forward, switching the rounds from lead to tranquilizer with a spin of the cylinder on his gun to avoid being charged with murder. Different grades of crimes result in various tiers of response. A bank robbery qualified them for Lake-level responses. Several murders, however, would put them square in the Sea-level. The Araki moved with practiced precision, efficiently knocking the guards unconscious with the sedatives before they could react. Rejo wasn¡¯t the most skilled marksman, but on a random bank such as this, he was unlikely to find a master of any kind. Furthermore, Joan was with him, flinging out needles with her impossibly agile fingers, which pierced through the shields meant only to intercept high-velocity projectiles. Sonna watched it all, strolling behind them and keeping an eye out for anything unexpected. Bodies collapsed onto the plush, ornate carpet that lined the floor with at most a low groan. Rejo ignored the finery, keeping his eyes on the gem-encrusted staircases to either side of the main lobby. The patrons had begun to scream, the sound filling the air like a cacophony of fear. Rejo tuned it out, his focus dead set on watching for more guards. Sonna moved to the front as she spoke, her voice shaking but steady enough to make demands, ¡°All the CCs. Now. Open the vaults.¡± The employees, frozen in shock, hurried to comply. Hands shaking, they began opening secure drawers and safes. The CCs¡ªCredit Chips¡ªwere the only currency that mattered out here in the Wings. Sonna collected them with a stern readiness, her nervousness fading with each passing second. She was finding her rhythm. Rejo didn¡¯t bother listening to her words. His attention instead fixed on the growing tension outside. The distant wail of police sirens echoed through the streets, their flashing lights casting eerie shadows through the bank¡¯s windows. With his eyes hooked on the rail of his rifle, he waited calmly and prepared to do what it took to complete Dante¡¯s plan. Their escape plan was plain yet precise, carried out through Joan¡¯s Biotics. Rejo had heard much of the doctor¡¯s tonics, and today, he would finally get his chance to try one. Glancing over, the Araki found Joan setting fire to the building. She worked with a surgeon¡¯s apathy, using some chemical concoction from her bag that ate through wood, steel, and marble alike. The flames spread like a tsunami, licking up the walls with a hungry fervor. A shiver ran down Rejo¡¯s spine. He didn¡¯t trust Joan. Countless stories and rumors surrounded her. None were good. But Dante said she would help. So he believed it. The Araki shoved down the unease, placing his faith in the human who had never failed him. More guards appeared, and Rejo reacted without thinking. He fired tranquilizer rounds with practiced ease, taking out six more before they could shoot Joan. His own shield took two hits before faltering, leaving him with no more protection until it regenerated. Of course, his shield was expensive because of his line of work, but it wasn¡¯t perfect. Such things worked only on high-velocity projectiles or energies. As such, he had to keep his ears open in case of an ambush. One knife to the neck would slay him like any other. Thankfully, no one and nothing came to attack him, even as the fires spread and the smoke wafted into the building. Sonna herded the people out of the bank, with them stumbling through the growing smoke. The woman was efficient, managing the chaos with surprising control as she collected the last of the CCs. Rejo stood near the entrance but out of sight from the windows, his eyes scanning for threats, ¡°What now?¡± he asked, his voice low but urgent. ¡°We¡¯re out of hostages. There have to be forty officers out there. We can¡¯t fight through that. Is it time?¡± Sonna¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, it looked like she didn¡¯t know what to say. Yet Joan saved her the trouble. The surgeon grinned, her voice lilting with mischief as she spoke, ¡°That¡¯s fine. I have a little surprise for them.¡± Rejo felt his stomach curdle at her words. He knew Joan¡¯s reputation. She was dangerous, unpredictable¡ªa walking nightmare. He took a step back, his instinctive fear overriding his bravado. Whatever Joan had planned, it wouldn¡¯t end well. ¡°No! You will not deliver them some monster or inferno,¡± Sonna stated with a raised hand. She desired no more bloodshed. ¡°No one will die today. Well, no one but that prisoner. He deserves it, though.¡± The muscle of the group watched as Joan¡¯s expression soured, but she didn¡¯t argue. Instead, she shrugged and stepped back, letting Sonna take charge once more. ¡°Well, then, missy, what do you propose? An Old One won¡¯t save your hide this time,¡± the surgeon asked as she placed her hands on her hips, staring right at Sonna. Despite Joan¡¯s possible truth, Sonna glanced at Rejo. Her hopes rested entirely on him as she gazed up at him with little puppy-dog eyes, saying, ¡°Rejo. Please. Use your Stigma, or your Tide. It¡¯ll make them retreat. Police aren¡¯t equipped or allowed to handle Seafarers.¡± Rejo¡¯s heart skipped a beat at the mere words said. The request... it felt like something had stirred inside him. Something dark and ancient. He wanted to deny it, to refuse outright, but a part of him couldn¡¯t resist. Not that he would, for it was the leader that had told him. He followed orders. Yet¡­ It wasn¡¯t even his choice, for a pain emerged in lowers. With a sinking hand to his navel, Rejo gripped his flesh achingly as agony ensued. Something deep within him stirred. The moment it rumbled, the police outside grew more aggressive, shouting with their megaphones, ¡°Exit the building slowly! Hands up! Weapons down!¡± Crime was one of the few ways one could survive if they weren¡¯t born into a wealthy family, so Rejo had heard those words before, but never had they warped into a warbled, buzzing tone. He didn¡¯t know what it was, but it felt like something was waving at him from the shadows of his soul. And he waved back. In that instant, a ripple passed through the air, and Rejo felt it. It wasn¡¯t visible to the naked eye, but he could feel the shift as some power awoke. A second later, there were two of bodies. Unlike Dante¡¯s shade, however, this was not another Rejo or some Araki he may have known. This was its own creature, more terrifying than his imagination. It was at that very instant that Rejo understood Sonna¡¯s caution. His fury lit aflame as he realized just how foolish she was. Joan should have done her trick! With one final thought, Rejo collapsed, his strength drained in an instant. Sonna caught his heavy body as he crumpled to the ground, though she struggled to support him. Her focus lay not on the man in her arms, however. It was upon a sole, towering figure within the bank¡¯s hall. It held no mercy as it spoke with simple, short words that distorted space, ¡°Thank you for the transport. Goodbye, and merry deaths to you all.¡± The figure¡¯s face and body perverted from a faceless and featureless humanoid to bearing millions of tiny, shifting whole black dots that caved into nothingness. The shift transpired in less than a second. None could react. All were frozen by the snowflakes that flickered off the creature¡¯s skin. It raised a hand as if to strike out at Rejo, but a sudden handgun placed against its skull stopped it. Handgun, however, was an incorrect term. The firearm fallen to this unknown being¡¯s head was enormous. The barrel alone would fit a baby¡¯s head, and the one wielding it was a well-dressed man, wafting with confidence. A badge adorned his chest pocket, featuring a tree and revolver in a twisting balance. The proof of a Judge. Rejo¡¯s mind spun in panic while he was powerless to move. Sonna dragged his limp form backward, closer to the fire, as he couldn¡¯t understand why a Judge was there since it was only a small-time robbery. His brain couldn¡¯t comprehend it, so he could only wheeze out a curse to Sonna, ¡°Cowardly ''itch...¡± Fortune smiled upon the Araki as the Judge assuaged his worries with his grave tone, saying, ¡°I knew I sensed an Anachronism out and about. I could smell you the instant you entered these skies. Here¡¯s the deal. You surrender, and I find someone to tame you. You fight, and I¡¯ll turn you into a fresh coat.¡± The fire burning behind Rejo seemed to snuff out with the Judge¡¯s words. He didn¡¯t care about the robbery. After all, his job didn¡¯t deal with commoners. Instead, his fixation hedged onto the Dirge that had awakened inside Rejo. The warbling monster¡ªthe Anachronism¡ªturned to face the Judge and snarled through a fabricated nose, stating, ¡°I will not be tamed. I am¡ª¡± ¡°Shut it,¡± the Judge snapped, cutting the creature off mid-sentence. ¡°No one cares who you are or what pit you crawled out of, Seablessed. Your funeral. My coat.¡± A moment after the Judge¡¯s words ended, Rejo felt something transition in the air. Space seemed to shift as the bullet left the cannon¡¯s chamber and approached the skull of the Anachronism. Then, some sort of aura detonated from the impossible being¡¯s figure, and the Lightsea fell unto reality. 8 - Under the Scarlet Moon She Breathes Seven strata define the weave of the Lightsea. From water comes adaptation, steam forms swiftness, and ice contains unending violence. Between the crosses lay the snowy bastion, a rejuvenating humidity, and even the devouring haze. Each may deliver one to power. To providence. In the center, however, lies a profound mystery. That which is unnatural bears both the highest price and the lowest road. Careful to remain hidden from the surrounding cameras and watchful eyes, Dante crawled bit by bit to the edge of the rooftop. From the precipice, he peered down at the bustling streets below, multi-lane roads bathed in neon light. The glow was overwhelming; he squinted to see properly. Seconds ticked away in Dante¡¯s mind as he counted time down to the millisecond. Soon. Nullify allowed him to focus beyond human limits, heightening his senses and abilities. He embraced its clarity, relishing in the tranquil. The prison transport would be on its way any moment now. Joan¡¯s Biotic should allow him to land atop the vehicle undetected and crawl in¡ªno casualties. After that, the rest of the plan was his to execute. More time passed. Yet something gnawed at him. Anxiety? No, this was deeper. Paranoia slipped through the haze of Nullify, seeping into his bones. He shifted his gaze eastward, toward the bank down the block. It was then he truly felt it. The sensation wasn¡¯t anxiety. It wasn¡¯t his paranoia. It was... existential dread, the kind that seeped into one¡¯s very core, the kind that came when one crossed into the Lightsea. A wave of goosebumps washed over his skin. His breath caught just before the planet seemed to lose its brilliance. The stars above, dimmed by the recently set sun, vanished into nothingness. The night grew darker than black. All around him, technology¡ªthe ever-resilient backbone of the city¡ªfaltered. Neon signs and streetlights blinked out, plunging the metropolis of Eratan into a pitch-black void, save for the pale moon hanging above. But the moon was wrong. A moment passed, then two. Dante waited. He knew something was coming. His gut was rarely off the mark. Then it happened: a crack. His eyes darted upward, widening as he saw the moon itself split open. From its center, an enormous eye, bloodshot and abyssal, blinked into view, blood-red rings swirling within its inky sclera. The pupil, enormous and malevolent, seemed to peer directly into his soul. He knew immediately that this was because of him. Fuck. Rejo. I knew something was wrong with him. Why didn¡¯t I do something sooner? The realization hit hard. My plans. My fucking ego. I ignored the signs. How could I be so stupid? Even through the muted emotions of Nullify, Dante¡¯s self-loathing punched through like a fist to the gut. He didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it, though. The screams erupting from the surrounding city reminded him of the bigger problem at hand. His crew. They were in trouble. The spreading aura, the wrongness he felt, centered on the bank¡ªthe very target they for the robbery. His eyes flitted to the road. Hesitation crept in. This was the perfect opportunity to hit the transport. The blackout would make it easy. No one would expect him to switch out the prisoner in the middle of a city-wide disaster. The logical side of his mind argued with ferocity. It made sense¡ªto the strategist in Dante. He could continue with the plan, minimize his risk, and leave the bank to handle itself. There were Seafarers and Psionics in the city, after all. They could deal with this, whatever it was. And Rejo? He was... likely dead. Sonna and Joan wouldn¡¯t last long. They¡¯d served their purpose. Archimedes¡ªhe was the only one Dante needed. The others were expendable. He needs one-of-a-kind talents. Like API. Like Bachae, the Clangbird. Like Miyamoto, the Keyblade. Like Ouran, the Gunsmoke. Even Haile, the Dull Puppet. There were people out there, legends in the Wings and Clouds like him from the outskirts, whom he wanted to recruit now that he could stand on the same field as them. These few people were not renowned for their current strengths but for their boundless potential, such that even he had heard of them. But... He raised his leg to head toward the transport... then froze, his boot hovering above the ground. Judas is quiet. Too quiet. It could be the Nullify. Maybe it¡¯s the Lightsea itself, but... I don¡¯t think so. He wants me to abandon them. They... they aren¡¯t dead yet. If they were¡­ he wouldn¡¯t have said that. The human took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on his emotions despite the Nullify, a rare occurrence. The daemon¡¯s silence was more disconcerting than its usual whispers. His choices, already limited and fraught with danger, narrowed to a razor¡¯s edge. With his gut twisting, he knew what he had to do. It was a risk. A major one. Dante knew that. As bizarre colors tainted his vision, his eyes gravitated toward the lightless road. The two separate dimensions were becoming one. He didn¡¯t know how, but it was happening. There was no reason to deny it. He had heard hints of such a thing from powerful Dirge, but typically, they covered whole planets. The man was clueless about the city-wide phenomena. Almost despite that, it also made him even more careful. He did not approach the unknown lightly. Nevertheless, his feet pointed toward the distant bank. Dante hardly knew his current crewmates. Rejo had been with him for a while, but they frequently misunderstood each other when they spoke, even after months. Beyond that... Sonna was an enigma. She lied about something. Dante wasn¡¯t sure what, and he was prone to believe that she was ready to betray him if the Federation asked. The man believed Sonna was likely still in touch with her superiors. How much of his thoughts were his paranoia or the recent incident? Such an answer was anyone¡¯s guess. Joan... Joan was his father¡¯s contact. She had done innumerable experiments on Dante when he was but a child, most of them harmful, yet some yielded fruit. Her expertise, which led to his plentiful augments, had to thank the human¡¯s impossible endurance, allowing her to test countless ideas without the boy croaking. Dante was no Martian from a petri dish, but for womb-born humans, he was the peak of the barrel. Such an assessment also did not consider the augments that exceeded the rim. The three were technically disposable. He didn¡¯t need them. But... He saw his little brother¡¯s expectant eyes as he looked out into the lightlessness. The cheerful runt who always believed him to be better, to be kinder than those who were around them. Even closing his eyes with effort, Dante struggled to overcome the drug in his system. Such a war broiled that his skin creased into dozens of tense lines. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°No one likes an asshole, Dante.¡± His brother¡¯s favorite phrase to murmur beneath shivering skies echoed in Dante¡¯s mind. It did so once, and once alone, but that was enough. The man calculated the risks. Then, he declared, ¡°Fuck them. Fuck them all.¡± He¡¯d miss out on an ideal crew member for... For what? What he supposed to feel better about himself? Would it make himself believe he wasn¡¯t the same monster his father was? Was it to prove that he wasn¡¯t some cold, calculating machine? Dante didn¡¯t know. Truly. He didn¡¯t. Though, he was certain about one thing. He didn¡¯t want to let down his runt of a brother when he had the option not to, no matter how many years passed. This one time, this first time, it seemed to Dante as his goals and Nullify did not square up. That left a knot in his stomach that he could not remove. Regardless, he would not wait a second longer. Without glancing back toward the transport, Dante sprinted toward the bank. The augments in his legs screamed with energy, fueled by his internals, as he leaped from one rooftop to another. He was careful with his route while optimizing the time, moving as fast as he could without falling into the chaos below while staying in the inky darkness to keep himself hidden. Even while running, however, his mind flew back to the plan. The blackout would compromise the transport¡¯s security, making it an easy target. It would be so easy. So so easy. Nullify was a beautiful mate for Dante. It let him work at maximum efficiency, but that was under one condition. That he didn¡¯t need his emotions. But Nullify couldn¡¯t drown out the nagging sense that if he abandoned them now, he¡¯d never forgive himself. His crew¡¯s lives were at stake, and the unnatural darkness emanating from the bank showed the origin of the Lightsea interlacing with reality. As Dante made it to his third rooftop, Judas finally reappeared. The copy of Dante¡¯s brother stood at the fourth ledge, staring him down with a mocking smile, ¡°Aww... little Dante didn¡¯t want to betray his friends? Come on. You¡¯ll die if you go that way. Such a fucking waste. Just go get that genius you were drooling over.¡± With the daemon glaring at him, Dante kicked his legs into the rooftop, slamming into the forward ledge roughly before pulling himself over. The distraction cost him some power, but he made it. Still, as he looked down at the alley beneath him, the pitch-black streets felt like a void, swallowing all light and leaving only his muted thoughts and the pounding of his heart. He could hear the rushing footsteps and panic from below by the thousands at large. The city was falling apart. A palm fell toward him, offering its paradoxical strength while saying, ¡°There is an Anathema nearby. If you do not run, you will die.¡± Dante grabbed the offered hand. It wasn¡¯t just a vision¡ªit had actual physical strength. As he hauled himself up, he met Judas¡¯s gaze with a flicker of suspicion. ¡°What the hell is an Anathema?¡± Dante demanded, his tone tense. Inside his mind, a storm swirled, but now was not the time to worry about Judas. He had been observant so far, nothing else. The question hung in the air, and screams resounded through the city and echoed downward from the skies above. Judas laughed shortly, shaking his head before turning to face the lightless stars. ¡°It is an adolescent of the Dirge. This one from what I can tell... quite gifted, possibly not alone. Most can collapse a Domain, though incomplete. It gives them... tremendous powers while cradling more Dirge. Though... they don''t typically use it for such wide-spread massacre. Leaves them open to assassination,¡± Judas explained, the words just short enough to answer the immediate questions and long enough to coax a dozen more into Dante¡¯s mind. Yet, they didn¡¯t have the time for a long session of questions. The human knew that. Instead, he settled for one last question, asking, ¡°If it is an adolescent, then what are you?¡± Again, Judas shook his head, turning his head toward the lightless night while stating, ¡°Is that something you truly wish to know? Knowledge can spell doom here. How about one better? Those creatures down there?¡± pointing one finger toward the open street, the being spoke without derision. ¡°Those are Anaphage. Anarchies will soon appear, which are stronger, larger, and more dangerous. A few Anachronisms might even show, and they can wield the Lightsea¡¯s might. You must run before this planet falls to ruin.¡± Dante¡¯s eyebrow rose. He knew what Judas said was likely the truth and that it might be better for him not to know. However, he couldn¡¯t simply abandon this place. He couldn¡¯t. The human had seen plenty of Seafarers and their ilk throughout his life, but all were small-timers like he was now. They possessed only the Stigmata. He once met one that had reached something equal to an Anachronism, as they could conjure blades of chilling ice, but nothing greater. Bullets didn¡¯t hurt that woman. Maybe a large enough caliber where her ice wasn¡¯t would, but nothing seemed to even hurt her. And the way she... killed those on board¡­ Dante pushed those thoughts aside and resumed his run. Judas¡¯s voice followed, angry and desperate, ¡°Are you insane!? I told you, you¡¯ll die if you face it, and I doubt it¡¯s alone! I sense the aura of something else! Hidden, hibernating, but it¡¯s still there!¡± The panic in the city sharply shifted to agonizing screams of terror as Judas¡¯ words proved true. In the corners of Dante¡¯s eyes, the human saw creatures in the streets. They glowed like radiant gems to his sight, augmented thanks to the creature within him. At last, he reached the building beside the bank. The streets below were empty, filled only with the remnants of a fierce battle. Bloodstains, bullet holes, and burnt-out police vehicles littered the area. While twisting his head, his voice dulled abruptly by the ringing of gunshots, ¡°I already told myself I¡¯d save them. Running will do little with you inside me, no? Might as well fight.¡± A grumbling came from Judas as the copy of Dante¡¯s brother crouched beside him. The two met eyes for a second before the Anaphage vanished from existence, as if he was never there to begin with. Scoffing, the man clambered down from the roof, using the window inlets as footholds on his way to the ground. On his descent, he paused slightly as he saw a family of three through the glass. It was a mother and two small children cramped beside their fridge in their meager apartment. Dante¡¯s gaze softened for only the briefest of moments until the drug overtook his emotions. He continued, hearing the families¡¯ door battered by some Dirge. This was a memory he would relive the next time he slept. Still, once his feet hit the concrete beneath, his senses howled with danger. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Dante double-checked his energy shield, knowing full well it would mean little to the monsters from the Lightsea as it refused to boot up. Yet, he didn''t have time to fiddle with it. Shields worked only against guns and other high-speed projectiles. These creatures... were not likely to shoot him. He hadn¡¯t heard of an outbreak like this... ever. Dante wasn¡¯t even sure something like this was possible, but he saw a sun and its planet devoured a few days ago. The galaxy was more extensive than he had ever imagined. The man had been stuck in the outermost regions for his whole life. Near the Great Cavity, people regarded such monsters as children. No different from such things, the man might as well have been a child at this stage. Regardless, Dante cared little about how others saw him, whether as food, prey, or entertainment. While striding toward the entrance of the bank, Dante¡¯s eyes sank to the bloodstains on the road. There were no bodies. Just the remnants of their struggles. Bullet holes and the burnt evidence of plasmic rounds littered every police car, and a few sutured into the bank¡¯s facade. For a reason that Dante could not identify, there were not that many bullet holes as if something had disabled the weapons. At just a glance, he could see several such weapons still full of ammo. The sight sent a chill down his spine, but the drug ignored the alarms in his system. Dante¡¯s foot took another step until he realized there was no more sound in the city. It was quiet. Utterly quiet. As far as one might go, there was not an ounce of noise. After looking up, he found that moon-eye bearing down on him, the abyssal sclera pulling him. He stepped back, yet his legs wouldn¡¯t move against the concentric crimson as it devoured whatever he let draw toward it. Suddenly, a panicked scream came from down the street, and he shifted out of instinct to face it. To his dismay, all he saw was a woman grasp toward him and shout, ¡°Help! PLEASE! PLEASE!¡± However, before she could take even another step, the young lady evaporated, not even leaving her clothes, as teeth took her upper half. Behind her, the humanoid shape of a slithering shadow lingered with an arched back and a maw dripping with nothingness. It smiled at Dante before patting its belly and crawling away on all fours, backward, and with a supernatural, wobbly gait. The cracking of its bones lingered in the human¡¯s mind while crimson pooled at his feet and reflected the moon. Unbeknownst to Dante, in the mirror of blood, the man¡¯s shadow appeared elongated, with a grin forming upon his frowning countenance. Dante grasped his revolver, well aware it would do little for him as he strode into the bank. He was already neck-deep in this shit. He figured he might as well see what happens when he dove in all the way. Inside the bank, the world shifted. The lights were back on, revealing the bank¡¯s untouched interior. Dante spotted Rejo, Sonna, and Joan creeping carefully toward the back, behind the counter. In the center of the room, two figures confronted each other. Dante¡¯s heart sank. He recognized one of them¡ªa Judge. Furthermore, it was a Tianshe, the model, gray-skinned race of the Romans, standing with a pistol in hand. Tianshe were the complete opposite of humans, possessing endless rights and privileges. The Judge placed far less worry into the man¡¯s mind, however, compared to the other being. The second was... wrong. It giggled with a featureless, mannequin-like face as white dots shimmered across its body. At first, Dante thought the Judge would turn on him moments after killing this creature. They were, after all, the most elite soldiers of the Roman Empire who didn¡¯t own territory. Then, he recalled that his face was hidden by the mask. Soon, however, that worry exchanged for another newer, graver fear. The Judge backpedaled a few steps, his voice apprehensive as the weapon in his hand crumpled into nothingness, devoured by lightlessness into a tiny point. The man had used it to defend himself against his opponent¡¯s Stigmata, nearly succumbing to the surprise attack moments prior. ¡°You¡¯re not an Anachronism. How is an Anathema way out here? In the fucking boonies? With a Stigmata like that... What are you after?¡± the red-haired man drew a long knife made of gnarled bone with feathers upon its handle out of his belt to face the monster before him. The Anathema itself cackled with ecstasy, running its hands down its face as it hustled from side to side. The dots seemed to both descend inwardly and expand outwardly at once. It was like moving eyes all across the figure. Dante glanced between the two of them, recognizing the Judge as the reason the Lightsea did not affect the bank. He was skilled enough to at least contest the Qualae here. Based on the Anathema¡¯s madness, however... perhaps not skilled enough. The three in the back met Dante¡¯s gaze just as the Anathema moved. Its elongated fingers scraped the ground with its nails while its feet propelled it toward the Judge, who just then noticed the human. Distrust riddled the Tianshe¡¯s face with his long coat fluttering, and Dante¡¯s heart sank as he knew something for sure. Humans are always the ones blamed. He¡¯s gonna kill me. Without waiting to see the clash of titans, Dante dashed along the edge of the forum¡¯s walls, his augments tearing apart flesh and bone as he pushed them beyond any typical limit. Nullify allowed him to ignore such agony while the two argued. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know, guard-dog?¡± the Anathema sneered, dashing for the Judge, and space warped underneath the former while the latter also tapped into the Lightsea. Snow bristled upon the Dirge¡¯s flesh, but he preferred his spatial Stigmata over the flakes. In contrast, shimmering waves sparkled in the forum before racing currents circled the Judge. The waters stabilized the Anathema¡¯s next strike, deflecting it. Less than a beat later, they met each other in a furious melee, each swing of the Judge¡¯s bone blade or slash of virulent water met by the Anathema¡¯s shattered space. The combat was a masterclass of speed and precision between man and monster, but even to Dante¡¯s untrained eyes, it was clear: the Judge was being pushed back, little by little. The Anathema was just too fast. Too strong. The difference of biology was showing itself. Still, with pure ingenuity, the Judge embedded the Lightsea itself in his movement, enabling him to evade the Anathema¡¯s oblivion-like Stigmata. Dante¡¯s pupils scintillated at seeing such movements of the Lightsea. He couldn¡¯t understand how the two did it, but someone did. Judas sat at the teller¡¯s counter, eating a chip from an employee¡¯s lunch, whose owner lay unconscious beneath him like all the others. The man watched it as thought it were show and spoke with a mocking laughter, ¡°See? Gonna die. Way out of your or my league. That Judge? He¡¯s good with the ¡®Sea. For a fleshy, at least. Especially one that young. Though, he¡¯ll die, too. And now, so will you.¡± Dante ignored him, leaping over the counter and shattering the glass with a quick shot from his pistol. With the falling debris, he landed behind the short wall where his crew huddled. Rejo, Sonna, and Joan stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. Without giving them a chance to ask questions, Dante flipped the bomb hidden in his sleeve into his palm, ready to make his move. However, before he could act, a wave of deafening energy slammed into the room by of the collision of two unstoppable forces. 9 - Lantern Shards Illuminate Horrors ¡°Dimensions? Plural? Now you¡¯re talking nonsense. There¡¯s just us and the Lightsea. Nothing else is out there,¡± a general of some sort, clad in countless ribbons, rebuffed the young man who reported to him in his plain office. The soldier shook his head, demanding trust, and scoffed, ¡°Really? Then how do you explain this?¡± and, as if to prove himself, the moment the soldier finished speaking, he wrenched his hand, and space flared in his palm like a starship¡¯s breached hull. Obsidian light spilled from the crack, revealing a world populated only by night¡ªand a skull that was larger than most planets. The general¡¯s hand shuddered, falling to the young man¡¯s shoulders, ¡°Nandum. This... It could change everything. Where did you find it?¡± Nandum Omou could only shrug, and the light fizzled out from their shared candle, drowning the two and their worlds in darkness. Blood spilled freely from Dante¡¯s chest as his back slammed against the icy wall. His brain fizzled and stuttered, overwhelmed by the sudden pain and disorientation shoved into his skull. Looking down, he saw it¡ªa jagged length of metal protruding from his chest. Right where his heart was. No augment in the world could save me from this. ¡°Indeed,¡± a voice murmured, cutting through the fog of agony. Dante¡¯s focus wrenched away from the battle and the groaning of his crew. They lay scattered around him, scarcely conscious but not with fatal wounds. Not like him. His luck was always the worst. The voice pulled his attention toward a figure kneeling in front of him. Judas, not the real one, but the fake abscess, crouched before Dante, placing its head inches away from his. ¡°Use it. Again,¡± Judas coaxed, its breath cold on Dante¡¯s face. ¡°You know you want to. It''ll heal you, strengthen you. In a place like this... with what is soon to come...¡± Judas stood, arms outstretched as though proclaiming to an audience. ¡°You would snowball! Faster than you can imagine!¡± Dante¡¯s brain stuttered along, struggling to function without blood flow. Still, the man thought rationally through the drugs affecting his mind. He knew his time was short. Minutes. I have so little¡ª ¡°LISTEN!¡± Judas yanked Dante¡¯s skull and shoved it around, pointing the human¡¯s wobbling eyes toward the battle before him. ¡°Do you see this? This is power! Do you not want it?!¡± The Judge surrounded himself with swirling, almost multicolored waves of water, and fended off the Anathema, who danced and giggled in delight, reveling in the battle. Laughing at every attack the Judge made, the creature toyed with him, its power far beyond the Tianshe. Dante knew something in his core. That Judas, this daemon, or whatever he was, wanted him to give in, to give him more power. He wasn¡¯t sure how it worked. Regardless, the damned thing had been appearing more and more since he used the Lightsea. The abilities he gained were potent, yet he sensed the danger of letting Judas take too much. However, he wasn¡¯t sure where the tipping point lay. The Anathema evaporated the entire southern side of the bank into less than atoms, but the Judge deflected the certain doom with watery whips born of the Lightsea. The sight was more than impossible to Dante. It was far beyond his understanding. It was a Tide against a Stigmata, the ocean against the winds. However, the Dirge still had its own Tide to join in. Judas leaned closer, his voice a snake¡¯s whisper in Dante¡¯s ear, ¡°What about your little brother? Would he want you to die here? Like a dog, right before the grand adventure you always dreamed of together? Remember how he longed to sail the stars? Do this for him, Dante. Not for me. Not for you. For him.¡± The plea to Dante¡¯s conscience, the lithe piece that still existed and held onto the remnant of his brother¡¯s wishes, bowed his head. With his surrender to the daemon, lights swam within his eyes more than before. Millions of tiny dots swarmed into his pupils as space didn¡¯t change like usual. It only became more clear. He was already within the Lightsea, even if only partially. Dante¡¯s legs moved beneath him, lifting him to his feet. He should have felt weak. He had been moments from death. Instead, he felt... whole. More than whole. The Lightsea itself rallied to him, bending to his will. Such a feat was unheard of, drawing attention from the two dangerous figures. The two, however, merely glanced at him before returning to their duel. The multicolored waves swirled across his hands before they shifted to a dark film of water. For the first time, Dante could see it¡ªlike opaque glass. He had always known the Lightsea was there, but now it was real, tangible, dancing across his skin like a living thing. A crash drew his attention back to the battle. His crew still lay on the floor, unable to do much more than crawl. But Dante was no longer one of them. None were as unlucky as him to be impaled, thankfully. He¡¯d already come this far. What¡¯s a little more? Dante, with the look of an almost certain death in his eyes, walked forward and successfully breached the thin veil that kept him safe. The two figures faced him warily as the human entered their sights. Without his mask. ¡°Get out of here!¡± the Judge shouted, then his face contorted with desperation and glanced at Dante. ¡°A human? With¡ªMotherfucker. This is the worst first day on the job ever. Hey! Help me, and I won¡¯t report you!¡± Meanwhile, the Anathema continued to chortle like a young child, tapping its claws together at the comedy before it. Dante glimpsed back and forth, confident in who he wanted to help, but unsure how. His tranquil tone cloaked the anticipation in his heart as he asked, ¡°What should I do?¡±¡± The Judge grunted while deflecting another deadly blow from the Anathema and said, ¡°There is an incomplete Domain Collapse. Covers the nearest hundred kilos and ruins most technology, so don¡¯t try anything with electricity in it,¡± after retreating a moment, the Tianshe breathed out a few more words. ¡°He¡¯s above my ordinance to deal with on my own, and the only help in the city is the Baron, blocks away. Name¡¯s Claudius. Just do what you can.¡± Before Dante could process it, Claudius surged forward, riding the currents of the Lightsea like a wave. Yet, to Dante, the oceans of the bizarre ¡®Domain¡¯ didn¡¯t move like they did for the Judge. The waters welcomed him and Judas. But... ¡°You heard him,¡± Judas whispered. ¡°Get in there. Die later, or maybe live now.¡± Dante didn¡¯t hesitate whatsoever. Without the Nullify in his system to dull his emotions, everything felt raw, real. This empowered version of his Stigmata had ripped the drug from him entirely somehow. The fact that his new crew was behind him pushed him onward. If they were his old crew... with how he had been betrayed... he might have just left. But... things were different now. They weren¡¯t just hired for one job. Rejo shook his hand to follow him into the center of the galaxy. Sonna was tied to him, whether or not she wanted to be. As for Joan... that mad scientist wanted to ride his coattails and get her own Qualae for experimentation and renown. Different reasons. Different codes. Different ethics. But he respected them. He... He liked them, as much as it felt weird for him to realize. It had only been a few days. Even so, he liked the group he had built. The potential egged him on. They already worked well together, with his oversight, that is. And they would only grow more. But right here, right now, he had to step up, even if it meant almost certain death. Space warped before Claudius, and somehow, his own waves protected him. The attack from the Anathema scratching at its own face was utterly diverted, but the Judge still didn¡¯t make any progress. He leaped back away from a following strike, sweat dripping down his face and onto the scorched floor below.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Here, Dante strode forward. He walked right for the Anathema. He didn¡¯t know what he would do. Not truly. It was stupid. He knew that. But he also knew that he had to try. Anything. ¡°Anathema. What is your name?¡± a confused whine met his inquiry, and that caused a temporary pause in the bloodlust. Dante sidestepped carefully, listening to the harrowing noises from the creature. Then, it actually answered him. ¡°Astraeus. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dante Penance. Master likes you. A lot¡­¡± chittering laughter echoed afterward. Claudius¡¯ eyes met Dante¡¯s, and the human could only shrug. He didn¡¯t know what that meant either, not truly. He could only guess that Astraeus had been watching him through Rejo. Another question came. Since he had bought a few moments of peace, Dante thought he had perhaps gained that exact thing. With the brief lull, he asked, ¡°Why are you here? Are you alone? Must we fight?¡± Still, Dante neared the Anathema, step by step. He was careful not to raise its concern, but he drew closer to it with caution. Astraeus, however, did not enjoy the secondary questions proposed. It roared at Dante, opening its terrifying claws to threaten the human, ¡°Quiet! You are too weak to have a say! You are not to question my motives! Now, help me kill this heathen. We must help my Master.¡± Heathen? What is he talking about? Master? Is he doing this for someone? Dante¡¯s mind spun in circles as he struggled to comprehend what the monster meant. It referred to Claudius as a heathen, but not him. Yet, the man didn¡¯t get an answer to his question as the Judge struck at Astraeus, a flash of light-fueled currents heading right for the Anathema. Claudius fought fiercely, his movements fluid, but the Anathema barely seemed to care. It toyed with him, swatting away his attacks with its gangly limbs. Sweat dripped from the Tianshe''s brow, mixing with the blood splattered across the floor. Dante kept moving, drawing closer to the Anathema with each careful step. His fingers curled around the bomb strapped to his side, a weapon designed to blow through reinforced concrete. It was their only chance. The Judge had mentioned technology wouldn¡¯t work. Things with electricity, however, were his specific words. This bomb, like most of Dante¡¯s bombs he made, was untraceable. As such... Not a mote of lightning coursed within the device. The human spread his limb outward, pressing the detonation button on the device, but it wasn¡¯t devised to blow immediately. The countdown began inside the explosive charge. Before he could get close enough, a blistering backhand from the Anathema struck him like a freight train. Dante¡¯s vision exploded in pain as he crashed to the floor, his body convulsing from the impact. On the scorched bank floor, Dante¡¯s eyes stared up at the Judge, who struck with unwavering fervor. Through blurred vision, Dante saw Claudius still resisting, desperately trying to survive. And amid it all, Judas appeared beside him. ¡°I said you¡¯d die here,¡± Judas scoffed and spoke in his natural enigmatic tone. ¡°But I¡¯m not strong enough to survive yet with her descending so soon. I thought they¡¯d wait longer for the MD. Impatient children¡­ Get up. The bomb might do something. Astraeus¡¯ Tide is Frigo, snow. He¡¯s weak to fire. Though¡­ if you see floating blood¡­ there is nothing I can do.¡± Dante felt himself being dragged to his feet, confusion clouding his mind. He glanced at the bomb in his hands¡ªseconds were ticking away. Without thinking, he hurled the explosive toward the Anathema, the device hurtling through the air. The internal clock of the bomb reached the critical point inches from the Anathema¡¯s body, and Dante could only raise his arms to protect himself from the coming detonation. As it sailed through the air, time did more than slow as space crackled dangerously, but Astraeus wasn¡¯t prepared for the weakling¡¯s cunning in time. Why would he be? Technology had never worked under this circumstance in the past. Nevertheless, the bomb detonated in a blinding flash, releasing waves of intense heat that washed over Dante, scorching his flesh. He cried out in agony that was soon ripped from him as all the air nearby was lit aflame, but before the flames could consume him, a set of arms wrapped around him, shielding him from the worst of the blast. Dante could feel something bizarre in the brief second as the flames dissipated. He felt the Lightsea reach out on its own and protect him, and he saw the same thing occur to the Anathema, only in its own way. After the head died, Dante found himself miraculously unscathed. Meanwhile, Astraeus was now stumbling and had a gaping crater in its chest. Space was warped around the injury, but Astraeus¡¯ powers obviously worked too differently from Dante¡¯s Stigmata. He couldn¡¯t replicate the removal of an injury. Astraeus had only ever been taught to destroy, not create or restore. Claudius, who had wrapped his arms around the human, dashed away, hauling all the waters with him that protected the two. Still, without missing his chance, he mustered all his strength to strike out at the wounded monster. The Lightsea finally seemed to give in to Claudius¡¯ demands as the waves bent around him. The Judge¡¯s secondary pistol, newly drawn and bathed in otherworldly light, exuded sparks of crackling water. Most Judges only had one firearm. This one, however, had quite the sponsor because of his talent. Few Praetors blessed Judges with their wealth and splendor. Fewer did it out of anything other than self-interest. Dante didn¡¯t catch Claudius¡¯ aim, let alone prepare the shot. It simply happened. The Astraeus contorted its grotesque body, shrieking as space itself seemed to shrivel around it in response to the nearby danger. A blast tore through the air, striking the Anathema¡¯s arm with devastating force. In an instant, the Anathema lost its entire limb and cut open the earth beneath them, falling into a deep hole. Claudius dropped to climb through, but another slash shattered the floor, causing the rubble to fill in the emptiness. Like that, the Anathema was gone. Yet, it left a mark. The wail drenched Dante¡¯s ears in blood, while Claudius suddenly fell to his knees. The Tianshe gasped for breath, blood streaming from his human-like eyes and ears. The toll of bending reality and channeling the Lightsea¡¯s power had ravaged his body, far worse than the injuries that the Anathema had given him while playing with his life as the Judge pushed himself far beyond his limits. Dante considered helping the man, but he didn¡¯t know the situation. So, instead, he walked to his crew. The human wanted to escape whatever madness he had fallen into. But as he stepped away, the once-lit bank turned desolate. The lights flickered out, and the shadows lengthened and clutched for Dante as if drawn to him. An oppressive darkness closed in, suffocating and relentless. Claudius had lost his ability to counter Astraeus¡¯ incomplete Domain, even if only on a small scale. It was called the Lightsea, and most of the creatures that wielded its power used only the light hidden within it, but it possessed all light, even the lack of it. Darkness was only a collapsing of light. A Domain was taking such a negative into a technique. And without the Judge¡¯s interference, Astraeus regained all the benefits of his incomplete Domain. While distant, the Anathema lost much of his trembles, recovering much faster. On the other hand, those within the bank now felt the true brunt of the incomplete Domain. Their visions darkened, backs bent, and thoughts slowed. All these effects were minor, but once they were all added up, they would make a difference. Dante¡¯s eyes flickered across the forum toward the open street as he exhaled the newfound weight, swamped in the same peril as the outside world. The human desired nothing more than to escape this nightmare. ¡°Wait,¡± Claudius spoke, his voice weak but determined. ¡°You... you can¡¯t leave.¡± The Judge pleaded for Dante to stop his departure, regardless of his post. He struggled to stand from his knees, legs wobbling and orifices bleeding. A syringe emerged from his back pocket, and he gazed at it with a forlorn sense of loss. Without pause, he stabbed it into his chest. The maroon liquid vanished from the container, reappearing amongst Claudius¡¯ flesh, re-knitting it to the naked eye. Dante raised an eyebrow, the darkness not quite hiding his disdain for such people. Nor did his voice, ¡°What? Want me to stay so you can crucify me? Parade me for all your Centurions and Citizens?¡± Claudius shook his head and waved his hands, no lethality hidden in his gaze. He stared at Dante with the same hatred the human had for him, but there was no malice in his voice, ¡°No. You don¡¯t understand. The danger isn¡¯t over, and it¡¯s bigger than you can imagine. The Anathema will return. And if you leave now... you will die.¡± The human¡¯s eyes narrowed, considering the Judge¡¯s words. They were the opposite of Judas''. ¡°We have to stop it,¡± Claudius continued, managing to stand. ¡°You brought this here. You will help fix it. Or none of us will leave this planet alive. We have to stop Astraeus before he brings his Master here. Or whatever else he may be planning. A Caesar this far from the front lines... Even if its just a stronger Anathema...¡± Holstering his weapon, Claudius¡¯ gaze finally settled on the human formally. He looked him up and down before finishing, ¡°Most of the Dirge are toward the galaxy¡¯s center, where the Lightsea has more presence. If they get landfall here... it¡¯ll be a backdoor, and who knows for what? We have to stop them.¡± The weight of the words pressed down on Dante. He didn¡¯t trust Claudius¡ªRoman Judges trained to kill people like him¡ªbut even he could see the truth in the man¡¯s eyes. The Judge was right: Astraeus wouldn¡¯t let any of them leave. The Anathema would toy with them until the very last drop of life had emptied. ¡°You want to die, do you?¡± Claudius asked softly, yet the vexed question hit Dante like a punch. The tone was oddly casual, almost as if the thought had just crossed his mind. The human shook his head at the question, finding it stupid to even consider, but the voice in his head pounced on it. His actions, to all others, spoke opposite to his refusal. Judas licked his lips, his voice inaudible to all but Dante as he agreed, ¡°You do. You most certainly do. Why else would you do such things? You lucked out that this Judge was so strong. A complete rarity to nearly reach the qualifications for a Centurion, I must say. Hey... have you thought to ask him what he was doing out here? Perhaps... he was looking for something... related to that missing star? Maybe he¡¯ll know something about it.¡° Ignoring Judas suspiciously phishing for information, Dante didn¡¯t refuse Claudius¡¯ proposition this time, listening cautiously as Rejo stumbled behind him. The Araki was helping the other two walk; their injuries were bitter but not life-threatening. Most of the damage was disorientation. So, while the shadows grew, they paid attention to the Judge¡¯s words, ¡°An Anathema can draw in lower echelons. Many of them. This... fuck. Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this. If you help me, you won¡¯t lose out. Capturing an Anaphage or two isn¡¯t impossible. You could give your crew abilities like your own.¡± ¡°What about him being human? Is that not a problem for you?¡± Sonna spoke up, delivering a crucial piece while her skull throbbed and dribbled blood. Claudius laughed¡ªa short, humorless bark. He reached into his belt, pulling out a sleek device that looked like a phone, though evidently by its beeping tones, from further central in the galaxy. After tossing it toward Dante¡¯s feet, he shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m more concerned with stopping that thing from tearing through this planet than I am about if you¡¯re human. One lone human, despite what Congress might say, won¡¯t amount too much. An Anathema or beyond? They can always bring more.¡± Dante glanced at the phone on the ground, then back at Claudius. The Judge wasn¡¯t lying. He didn¡¯t care about the typical Roman prejudice. There was a much more significant threat on the horizon. ¡°As I was saying,¡± Claudius continued, ¡°Flights are grounded. Anathemas like Astraeus shut off technology with their Domains, even if incomplete. More Dirge will come from his link to the Lightsea as he holds it open and calls for them. Hundreds¡ªmaybe thousands¡ªwill die as the lesser Dirge crawl out from the shadows. Every passing minute countless fall to them.¡± Dante stared at the phone for a moment before bending down and picking it up. It was a simple gesture, but it signified his acceptance of the situation. He wasn¡¯t getting out of this so quickly. Claudius, seeing Dante¡¯s decision, gave a slow nod, ¡°Good. When you¡¯re healed, call me. We¡¯ll need every hand we can get,¡± then, the Judge left through a sliced-open portion of the wall, a limping gait that gradually grew more steady. The human read the name aloud for his crew with a shrug toward the exit, ¡°Claudius Vermillion. That last name sounds familiar, right?¡± Dante''s eyes flickered to Sonna with the name. Rejo and Joan returned the bob of shoulders, knowing nothing, but Sonna spoke up after a second of stuttering, ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s the name of a political family in the Heart, I think. Roman, too, I think. He¡¯s... probably some bigshot. Or on his way to be one.¡± Dante nodded sagely, computing the facts as the Lightsea bent in front of him. Some creatures stepped through another wall of the bank without Claudius¡¯ protection in place. The appearance was slow, likely to take another few minutes before it came through all the way. I guess the entire city is going to hell. Maybe... I found a better opportunity to get my genius here. And more. The human¡¯s ambition only rose further alongside his ascending greed, all while the insanity of the world escalated. While strolling ahead, he stared directly at the spawning Anaphage, tearing itself into his reality. After a moment of observation, he hurried his crew to follow him before the Anaphage crawled all the way through. Dante considered asking for help or knowledge from Judas, but he wouldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t suicidal. Dante just had to figure out how to use the Lightsea without Judas. With that thought, his eyes sank to the phone now littered in his pocket. Claudius would know. But why would he help me? He¡¯s only letting me live because he needs my help. Though, I¡¯m not sure how much I can really do for him. A trick like that won¡¯t work again. Astraeus thought I was harmless. Now that he knows of such powerful conventional weapons¡­ Heh. Not to mention, I¡¯m pretty sure Judas did something to that bomb. It shouldn¡¯t have hurt such a¡­ creature. Or maybe... defenses like that are more active than I thought. After turning a corner, Dante found more scrawling shadows and shifted rearward, rushing in another direction. The three behind him followed, slower but with even more panic. Quickly, the human realized there was nowhere safe to go to recover. Everywhere light can be, a Dirge could form. So, his eyes turn toward a new destination instead of somewhere to rest. 10 - The Unbound Inferno Sins. Our search was futile. Nine. There are only nine that matter, yet I only found one when it no longer mattered. He has no name. No face. And no time. It is only an Ego. Should you see him, you are already dead. As am I. On a negative floor of Lightjar, a man¡¯s fist dedicated itself to the meaty skull of another, beating it inward until the body underneath ceased its convulsions. Then, with a roar of pent-up fury, Lucius drove his knuckles one more time into the corpse, blood splattering across his face. He stood, panting, the weight of frustration and exertion pressing on his shoulders. The Martian tilted his head back, drawing in ragged breaths, his boots slipping on the blood-slick floor. He stumbled, regaining his balance with a grunt. The surrounding hallway was a graveyard. Bodies littered the space, the remains of prisoners he¡¯d beaten to death. While grateful for the power loss, Lucius knew better than to imagine it was a coincidence. A place such as this... losing power? Either planet-wide war, or... One of ¡®them¡¯ is here. One I can¡¯t deal with on my own. The Martian¡¯s innards boiled with the fervor to kill another two dozen, but a soft voice behind him immediately took his attention, ¡°Lucius? Can I come out now?¡± Lucius glared back, his eyes circled with a cerulean bloodshot. The sight of Archimedes standing behind the alloy door drained away his bloodlust. With the young boy¡¯s innocence in mind, the former soldier loosened his stance, hiding the savage act he¡¯d just committed. He, instead, acted as if nothing was wrong in the slightest. He pretended as though he hadn¡¯t just slain twenty-four people¡ªbecause, to him, there was nothing wrong. They were, in his eyes, sinners. Rapists. Murderers. Traffickers. They deserved those deaths. The soldier had looked past enough in his long life. He refused to let such things go unnoticed any longer. His priority, however, was the boy imprisoned where he should not have been. ¡°Yeah, come toward my voice,¡± Lucius called calmly, realizing that API couldn¡¯t see in the pitch-blackness of the prison. But Lucius could. Martians were the apex of human engineering, the peak of their madness. He fulfilled his duty by guiding Archimedes through the dark. Archimedes slipped on the unseen blood a mere step later, however, yelping in panic. Lucius caught him in time, steadying the young man as he trembled. The boy stared up at nothing in the dark, unable to see even his own nose. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re safe. Come, we¡¯re leaving this place,¡± Lucius said, his voice low but steady. He ushered Archimedes toward the steel door at the end of the hallway, its lock disabled from the power loss. Without the power, Lucius only had to be strong enough to rip open the door without its hydraulics, which was a test not even worth taking. His muscles bulged with a moment¡¯s force, and the steel submitted. A second later, they both stood below a staircase. Elevators required power, and Lucius wouldn¡¯t risk climbing an open shaft with Archimedes on his back. Through the gloaming, Lucius continued to guide the young man upward and out of the depths of the third floor underground. Few Seafarers were held here, but it was enough to worry one would break through the defenses without power. A hundred stairs passed by the two of them, with the twiggy adolescent struggling beyond the second set. Still, they couldn¡¯t stop so soon. As such, Lucius cursed before picking up API and tossing him onto the Martian¡¯s shoulder. From there, Lucius sprinted up the stairs, climbing at a pace that put even some Seafarers he had met to shame. The Lightsea was a tool that millions possessed amongst trillions. The physiology of a Martian without dimensional influence? Thousands within trillions. Stone caved beneath his bare feet, and the young man howled in terror at the sudden movement, ¡°Wait! Wait! I can¡¯t see! Stop! Stop!¡± As they needed to escape more than Isaac¡¯s nausea mattered, Lucius flowed like greased lightning, completing the remaining eighty stairs in a blistering four seconds. Once at the top of the stairs, he set API down and then kicked in the door, blowing the unpowered steel off its clasps. The metal, with a slight imprint of a foot, whipped open wildly, revealing to Lucius and Archimedes a scene of utter destruction. The young man finally relieved his insides while the Martian wiped his brow and strode forward. Tens of corpses lined the walls, with dimly lit fires raging in several of the cells. Neg-Two had some dangerous criminals, such as those of the Lake instead of the Sea indicator, like Lucius and Archimedes. The monsters that skulked in the dark were harmful, especially so for those without weapons. As Lucius¡¯ keen eye scraped over the carcasses and their injuries, denoting each mark and wound, his mind fell to a conclusion. Though, little Isaac was faster with his stutter, ¡°An¡ªan¡ªan Anaphage. May¡ªbe higher. Can you k¡ªk¡ªkill an¡ªan¡ªAnarchy, Mr. Waters?¡± Archimedes¡¯ voice wobbled, a sign that he was about to have an episode. Mr. Waters, as the boy called him, pulled his lips into his mouth, biting them together tight. He¡¯s on the money, but I think he¡¯s short of credit. It¡¯s not an Anachronism, though. I don¡¯t see the remnants that they would leave behind. Sure, there¡¯s fire, but nothing... more bizarre. No water, snow, or mist. Anarchy, but not singular. Two? Yeah. That¡¯s probably accurate. Good enough for me. The eighty dead inmates provided enough evidence for the retired soldier to figure out his prey. He understood the strength of these beings profoundly. If released, Anaphage could kill hundreds over the course of a few hours. All these rough criminals, however, would overpower one or two of them.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. A Dirge child, evolved from an infant, would fare better with so many opponents, but a struggle was still assured. Perhaps even some ichor on the ground. Since there were no injuries on the Dirge¡¯s side¡­ Lucius¡¯ instincts told him it was likely to be two. Silently creeping forward, Lucius urged API onward to keep their noise below the sound of crackling flames. As they advanced, a groan caught the Martian¡¯s attention, hardly audible to his prospecting ears. With a glance, he confirmed they were an inmate, and so he ignored their pleading gaze with an inward curse. To Hell with you. They crept forward, the crackling of flames the only sound between them. Whatever had caused this destruction was moving higher. Lucius cracked his knuckles, eager for what lay ahead. The creatures only wanted to go higher. That meant, to Lucius, they crawled out of the Lightsea inside here. Even further... He possessed experience. He hadn¡¯t fought a plethora of Dirge, but he knew their strengths. Anathema. If it was any higher, the planet would already be toast. Not good. Not impossible, though. I just need to get him out of the city. Outrunning one is doable if it doesn''t have a proper Domain. Lucius¡¯ mind considered his options while they walked, and a minute later, they reached the next door. The trembling fires and ascended smoke made it hard for both to breathe, but they shared a curt nod before Lucius burst through. He entered the next hallway, not surprised in the slightest to find a creature waiting for him. It stood on two gangly legs and hunched over with its bulging, veiny, muscular arms. It was headless, possessing a mouth inside its chest instead of the more conventional locale, and the first thing that Lucius met was its howl of horror. The winds knocked Archimedes onto his ass, the young boy crying in terror. More and more gusts swept away tears until the creature ceased its roar, realizing it had no effect on the soldier. Archimedes, teary and trembling, unable to say a word, observed like an emotional machine, every input etching itself permanently into his mind as two beings sized each other. Lucius Waters, six-foot-eight and a mountain of muscle, against the extra-dimensional entity with twice his weight an two whole heads greater. Chomping sounds echoed alongside the illuminating fires as the creature devoured the corpse of a woman. The young boy¡¯s stomach quivered, but there was nothing left to expunge. His pupils could only witness the bloodshed. The battle began with a sudden flurry of movement. Lucius launched himself at the Anarchy, delivering a crushing blow of hundreds of pounds to its torso. But the creature barely flinched, allowing Pythagoras¡¯ addled mind to compute a terrible fact in his mind. It wasn¡¯t an Anaphage. In retaliation, it swung its massive fist, but the man had already moved to the side. Instead of riding out the blow to his skull, the Martian¡¯s left arm withstood the strike. Flung across the room, Lucius landed square in a pile of burning debris. After coughing out the injury, he leaped to his feet and stared down the monster once more. Creatures of this age and strength rarely spoke or had much intelligence. They were more like beasts than anything. Lucius knew this, yet he also knew he could hurt it with his bare hands. He had killed Anaphages in the past in this manner. Despite his accolades, it seemed Anarchies were far beyond that limit. Far. No one had ever forced the soldier to fight one without an array of mechanical weaponry, just in case a Domain were to collapse. He cradled the fractured forearm with his other hand, but he showed no fear. Instead, Lucius called out to his only ally, ¡°Arch! Get me a weapon! Pipe! Shiv! I don¡¯t care! Just something!¡± The words asserted to the young man woke him from his stupor. The tremors in API¡¯s hands refused to cease, however, and so did his panic. His eyes scattered haphazardly, unable to put his brain to good use. He never worked well under pressure. Never. Once more, Lucius received a beating that sent him rolling across the room, leaving his luminant blue blood to stain the steel floor. Despite with this, Lucius called for Archimedes again, believing in the young man, ¡°Arch! Come on! You got this! It¡¯s just fear!¡± Fear. The word was the only thing in API¡¯s mind as it cycled millions of times per second. There were many things Archimedes feared. He feared women. The scary and loud ones. He feared open spaces. The ones fitting massive crowds. Small ones, too. He feared fire. The kind that raged during summers, but also the tiny flames of a lighter. He feared death above all, however. It was the one thing that would stop his thoughts forevermore. He enjoyed thinking. It was the sole delight of the darkness. However much he dreaded those things... Arch bit his lips, drawing blood as he watched Lucius slammed into the ground. Naturally, the dutiful man rose once more, but his flesh had its limits. The genius knew the skeleton and muscular structure of a Martian. The hits he was taking, the newtons of force... they were bone-breaking. Of all the things Archimedes feared... even death took a backseat to one very particular aversion. Monophobia. He had been alone for so long with only his thoughts. No one ever cared for him. Not really. They just used him. A few tried to stay, but none lingered, either pushed away by him, circumstance, or misfortune. But... This barbarian liked him. Archimedes was clueless why, but Lucius stayed by him. The soldier protected him from the other inmates, taught him a great deal, and kept him company in the darkness where it used to only be his thoughts. The longing swirled ravenously until Archimedes lifted his hand. Then he clenched his fist and got to work. By diving to his side, he picked up a rod of steel that had broken off the side of a cell. His eyes flashed before discovering a shard of a shattered mirror. With the two pieces, Archimedes¡¯ hands fell to his shirt as he combined the two with a series of careful knots and wraps, crafting a makeshift spear in a mere couple of seconds. The boy could hardly run. He couldn''t climb or jump. But his hands were that of an artisan. Archimedes rose to his feet with the help of the wall, knowing the spear wouldn¡¯t be enough. With that knowledge, he dipped the edge into the flame beside him. His mind fell into thought, spinning rapidly as he ignored the terror inside. Fire has a devastating effect on most Dirge. The lesser ones, that is. Mr. Waters has mentioned killing Anarchies before. With a decent weapon... he can win. I know he can. But I need a guarantee. The young man worked on certainties, prophecies built of math and science, not pure belief. He tossed the weapon to Lucius, and it ended with a roll, but returned to work. The Martian wielded the tool as if he had fought with a spear many times in the past. He had. Sidestepping a blow, he skillfully pushed it further away with the back of the spear, spinning the shaft across his body to slice open the mouth across the Anarchy¡¯s stomach. Dark ichor spilled onto the floor as a roar broke into the air. Archimedes dropped what he was working on, but he retrieved it from the ground with a panicked hustle. The bar of steel and bent metal met carefully as the craftsman manufactured a trap in his hands. It resembled those used on large prey in the wilds, not that Arch had ever been to such places. He saw it in a book once. For the boy, that was enough. His mind loathed to forget a single detail. If he had seen something, then he knew it. Innumerable minds across the galaxy wished they had such a talent as API, yet they did not. He stood out from all the others, a specimen unlike any other. By the age of three, he had learned calculus. At five, a syndicate discovered his talents and set him to work. Before the age of seven, Archimedes had earned them more than a million credits. A few days after his ninth birthday, however, another crime family killed his owners, taking him for themselves. Tossed from hand to hand, he never had a home because of his beyond prodigious mind. But he was not without his flaws. ¡°Mr. Waters! Back up!¡± Archimedes gathered his courage and heaved the metal contraption in his hands toward the battle. It didn''t cross the distance. Nonetheless, Lucius took the warning seriously and leaped in reverse with all he had until he landed far, far behind, making up for Isaac''s weakness. Steel clattered to the ground in front of him as the idea sparked in his head, ¡°Good shit, boy!¡± This time, this day, this hour, Archimedes overcame his endless fear with the umbrella of the kind giant¡¯s shadow. Lucius then delivered a faux jab at the Anarchy, backstepping before it made contact. The monster growled at his cowardice, taking it for weakness, and charged him immediately. The Martian pedaled over as he noticed its carelessness, goading the creature to step over the trap. Sure enough, it did. Lucius retreated just as the Anarchy stepped into the contraption. It howled in agony as its leg caught on the steel, so Lucius seized the opening. He drove the spear through the creature¡¯s stomach again, pushing it toward the flames. But the beast was heavy. He needed more force. After ripping the weapon out, he sliced the edge across the creature¡¯s side and bashed it toward the nearby flames. The Anarchy fell with the mighty shove, engulfed in fire. With a grim fury, Lucius held no mercy, spearing it again and again until the howls ceased. Emotionless and noiseless, the soldier continued to gore his prey time after time until the sounds from it were finally silenced. Then he stumbled back, falling to a lone knee. Blood sloshed from his wounds like an overflowing glass of leaking vitality, the azure opposite to the nearby red heat. Archimedes shuffled to his only friend and companion, whispering just over the sound of burning flesh, ¡°That... that was an Anarchy. I¡¯ve... seen footage of them killing whole... squads of trained soldiers. With guns.¡± A string of low laughter came from Lucius. The only way he could talk to the boy was with honesty and a bit of deflection. ¡°Then you should have seen me do the same. It was only one. We better get a move on. If there are any more like that, we may be in some actual trouble,¡± Lucius ascended back to his full height and weighed the spear in his hands. Then, his attention fell to the spiked trap in the fire while his flesh already began to cease his bleeding. With the end of the mirror-spear, he retrieved the trap and the Anarchy¡¯s gaunt leg. The two worked to get the thing off, and Lucius gave it to Archimedes to hold. The boy said nothing after Lucius¡¯ deflection, falling silent once more. He spoke often around the man, but near most folk, he was mute, too full of tremors to utter one word. As they walked toward the next door, the older one with a significant limp and trail behind him, he praised the youth, ¡°Good job. I¡¯m proud of you.¡± A slim smile replaced Archimedes¡¯ typical countenance, which contained only anxiety and terror. The emotion didn¡¯t linger long, but the fact it appeared at all proved to Archimedes he had made the right choice. That he did good. Finally. Meanwhile, Lucius¡¯ focus remained on the opposite side of the next door. He could see through the grate with his height. And he did not like what he saw. Not. One. Bit. 11 - An Unsteady Harbor ¡°To become a Judge is to join the elite amongst all those who wield unnatural forces within the galaxy. The Ostaceans have their Electros, wielding their specialized tech, while Glaniece has their Faceless, bio-engineered to lethal perfection. Judgehood marks not a journey¡¯s end. It can for many, but not all. I do not believe any of you will stop at such a lamp. Now, no ranks are given based on some arbitrary level of control over the Lightsea or your techniques mastered. Just as you became a Judge on merit, rising to the echelon of a Centurion will be no different. Excel. Succeed. Grow. Never settle for where thy feet lie, lest you wish to drown.¡± The quartet shuffled through Eratan with purpose, rushing past any horrifying scenes that might have come their way. With proper weapons and a stroke of luck, an untrained group could eliminate an Anaphage. Most civilians, however, were untrained, unequipped, and far too decadent to survive such an encounter. For every one Dante or Rejo, armed and ready, thousands and thousands lay helpless. To Dante, watching the hundreds of manifesting monsters ravage this megacity did something he wasn¡¯t expecting inside of him. A knot formed in his stomach. Without thinking back to his brother, that guiding compass in his soul, he realized that this was... wrong. Seldom did Dante consider the life of someone who wasn¡¯t him or a person he cared about. To him, all that mattered was that he and his were alive. Yet, after years of those he loved dying or betraying him, he sobered up to reality. No one likes a human. And those who do... die. Painfully. Every time. That, or he pushed them away until they lost all their love for him. That rule had shaped his actions for years, and mostly, it held true. Nevertheless, the screams of the dying, the sight of thousands crushed underfoot by monsters, gnawed at him. Regret. A man was hurled through a third-story window, shattering the glass and crashing onto the street ahead. The body was a corpse before it even hit the ground. Dante¡¯s gaze fell to the leaking blood, while more glass rained from above. I shouldn¡¯t have come here. I was met to die on that ship. I should¡¯ve... I... A firm grip tightened around his bicep, ripping the man out of his disconcerting thoughts. A lithe woman stood on the tips of her toes to yell at Dante with indignation, ¡°What are you doing!? Snap the fuck out of it! Take us to safety, dumbass! You know this city, not us!¡± Harsh laughter echoed from atop a car where Judas lounged, legs dangling over the side, while Rejo¡¯s rifle kept the spawning Dirge away. Dante ignored Judas and focused on his crewmate¡¯s demand. Still, he felt remorse, as he would not be taking them to safety. There was nowhere safe. There were only places with more danger and those with less. For Dante to do what he wished¡ªto sail into the galaxy¡¯s center, into the Heart, and make a name for himself... he had to¡­ Become powerful. Become... someone that mattered, unable to be ignored or cast away. Dante refused to wilt like a flower. He rejected the idea of petering out into the emptiness of the stars. The last thing he would let happen to himself was to not matter, to not be anyone. There were things he had to do. There were also things he would never let happen to himself. Ambition, greed, and spite tore into the human¡¯s mind while battling against his compassion. This time, the victory belonged to the voices in his head, not the little brother. Despite the family¡¯s pleading eyes, Dante paid no attention to them in the car under Judas. It would only slow the group, possibly costing the life of Archimedes. And for what? Bringing along baggage? That result was not something Dante could harbor. He felt for the family; he empathized. Regardless of what their eyes expressed, Dante had to move on. He had to, otherwise, he would leave behind his future. Footsteps slammed into the concrete beneath Dante as he rushed along the street again, picking up his pace. The other three followed closely, and they dodged past the Anaphage on the street with Rejo blowing a hole in its chest. Recently spawned from the Lightsea, the creature was, of course, not dead. Its four legs of shimmering tar trembled with anger before contorting and rushing to pursue them. Rejo fired his rifle back again without aiming or looking, evaporating the Anaphage¡¯s left leg. The creature stumbled and struggled to follow before the group bent around a corner, leaving it in the dust. ¡°Are ¡®hey all that easy?¡± Rejo teased while keeping up with his heavy weapon. Dante shook his head, reminding the mercenary of his talents as he said, ¡°No! Your gun is illegal for its firepower, remember? A bolt-action fifty caliber is not weak! It could kill an Anarchy with a bullet into its vitals!¡± Joan and Sonna nodded in agreement, finding the statement to make sense based on the strength of Astraeus and the bestial nature of the Anaphages they had seen. Nevertheless, they hurried along, with Dante at the helm through alleyways and open streets, ducking past all danger. With their ammunition, Dante and Rejo promptly dealt with the creatures that came after them. They hadn¡¯t faced many Qualae in their lives, but two had fought off dangerous wildlife before. Anaphages weren¡¯t too dissimilar from an apex predator¡ªdealt with a series of precise bullets. The chief danger of the Anaphages in these cities were their numbers, sudden appearance, and capability to grow. For now, however, the group wasn¡¯t too concerned with them. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Anarchies, however, were a little more complicated, akin to a peak predator spruced up with drugs and enhanced further with implants. They were not so readily slain without the right weapons and experience. Unfortunately for the general law enforcement in the area, all of their communications and transportation devices had broken due to the Lightsea. Firearms still worked as long as they weren¡¯t electronic or laser-based, but these were not common in big cities that required tracking of each and every sold weapon. Old-fashioned, unregistered steel, like Dante¡¯s revolvers and Rejo¡¯s current rifle, worked just fine. As long as there was no need for voltage or circuits, the tools and weapons would work without issue. Only specialized devices like those a Judge would possess could penetrate such a blackout, and even then, they diminished in power. As they rushed through alleyways and burning streets, no one spoke. They moved in silence, dodging danger at every turn, and imprinting the countless dead into their minds. Thankfully, the Dirge learned to leave them alone, as they were the only non-easy prey. Minutes later, they reached a concrete wall stretching across an entire block, a monolithic slab with no windows and no visible entrances. The words carved into it translated automatically for Dante: Lightjar, Home for the Troubled. Troubled, alright. Troubled and soon to be executed. Dante sighed with raised eyes. He¡¯d have to help the others over the wall; not everyone had his augmentations. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the wall and kicked off, clearing the fifteen-foot barrier in one fluid motion. His hands gripped the top, and he pulled himself up, glancing down at the others. Inches from his fingers, a turret lay, deactivated but no less threatening. ¡°What the fuck!? Did you just clear a fifteen-foot wall?¡± Sonna shouted at the human that she definitely knew not to be manipulating the Lightsea. Her mind struggled to wrap around the human¡¯s fitness, no matter how much she had heard about the species. Dante simply shook his head and hauled wire from his belt, a tiny but firm thing he stretched down for the others to grab onto. He spoke without moving his lips, scarcely audible over the din of the dying city, ¡°So what? You just saw an Anathema eat a bomb designed to breach ten feet of concrete like it was breakfast.¡± The Weren bobbed her head, reconciling the two facts before Rejo wrapped the wire around her wrist. She turned to him with alarm, ¡°Hey! What are you¡ª?¡± Dante slung up the woman first. Then the other two followed. In less than a minute, all four spread out a few steps across the prison¡¯s field. Eyes scavenged for guards, for inmates, for anything, yet they found nothing. On this side of the wall, things were utterly serene. Alarmingly so. ¡°Dante,¡± Joan said, her voice laced with suspicion, ¡°this isn¡¯t right. According to my contact, guards are always present here. Where are they? And why are we even here? This place isn¡¯t safe.¡± Joan spoke with sincerity, something she did not frequently do, and it hammered in the feeling of wrongness in Dante¡¯s mind. Still, she scaled the wall while demanding an answer, knowing it would be more treacherous to be alone than with the group. However, once on the other side, she did not take such ignorance. Joan glared at Dante, demanding a response. A trio of questioning eyes quickly met the human, even from those in Rejo¡¯s skull. Dante¡¯s tongue ran over his teeth before he forged an excuse, ¡°There is nowhere safe, frankly. No escaping, either. Until that Anathema leaves or dies, no starship will work. None without gross modifications, at least. So, we¡¯re here. To get our last member before departing.¡± Rejo¡¯s head bobbed with understanding, taking the explanation that the Araki received through translation at the glimpse. The other two, however, didn¡¯t give up without complaint. Sonna stepped a little closer to Dante, poking him in the chest with her forefinger as she asked, ¡°You promise? I don¡¯t want to die on this planet. It¡¯s... terrifying out here. And can this... person you want so badly bring us out of here?¡± Dante met her gaze, his mind racing. Archimedes had always been a genius with tech, achieving things that seemed almost magical. He¡¯d gotten Dante out of tight spots before, and he had no option but to believe he could do it again. However, this time was far worse than the past incidents where they had partnered. Could API do that? He¡¯ll have to. Otherwise... we¡¯ll have to join Claudius in killing Astraeus. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s off gathering whatever firepower he can to help him, and if they kill the Anathema, their attention will fall on us. Dante nodded with a set brow, enlisting his hope in the teenager that he had worked with in the past. Back then, he stood as Archimedes¡¯ guard and smuggler. He had seen the kid¡¯s talent up-close. It wasn¡¯t a final gambit, but¡­ It wasn¡¯t far off. Dante wasn¡¯t expecting such things when he landed. The Anathema¡¯s presence ruined ninety-nine out of a hundred of his preparations. Yet... it opened many opportunities. He could never do what he was about to do without the umbrella of death above. While heading towards the prison, Dante drew his revolvers from their holsters again, spinning them lightly to energize himself. He told the others to follow him, not showing a lick of concern on his weathered face, ¡°He can get us out. Come on. Or would you rather wait for an Anarchy to hear us?¡± The others followed him with haste, Sonna at the very back and cursing under her breath. She swore Dante was going to get her killed someday, but without him, she¡¯d already be a feast for maggots. Soon, they stood before the double iron doors of the penitentiary. Rejo peeked inward while Dante kneeled on the floor, unfurling his pack. The man¡¯s hands worked in haste before retrieving a crowbar that he placed at the twin doors¡¯ meeting point. ¡°Clear. I see nothing from here,¡± Rejo reported to Dante before the human pivoted the steel bar with all his strength. The groaning from the metal continued for several seconds until the door¡¯s inner-workings eventually snapped. The Araki took charge, bashing the tip of his rifle into the opening to help Dante stabilize his position. Together, the two forced one door open with disabled power. While stomping his heels into the slabs beneath him, Rejo held the door for the others to rush past. Once everyone was in the front hallway, he hurried inside with the weighty door on his tail. Rejo exhaled air with fatigue, lamenting how much he had to run today as the stench of blood entered his nose. The Araki peeked up to find Dante with his revolver against a bald man¡¯s temple, and Joan held a syringe of ¡®something¡¯ already stabbed into the other¡¯s hairy neck. Disappointment left his lungs with a sigh as he stepped up to the others. He wanted some fun, too. ¡°Where are the guards!?¡± Dante¡¯s face inched before terrified faces, his aggression echoing in the hall. Then, the two bloodied prisoners with singular zeros on their shirts shivered. The bald one was the first to break, desperately giving out answers while the other glared at him, ¡°Most went to Neg-Three! The remaining ones... well... monsters got ¡®em. Please. Just let me take that crowbar. We¡¯ll be out of your hair in no time, sirs and misses.¡± Attempting to act all nice and proper didn¡¯t matter to Dante. He could see right through this man. After all, he was just like him, only... Dante had never gotten truly caught for any of his crimes. Plus, he stayed away from the worst of the worst. Without some sort of code, he¡¯d have long lost his mind. So, he had already decreed the inmate¡¯s fate in his mind, but he first needed the answer to another question. Well, two. ¡°How many? And were any bigger than the others?¡± The hairy man, with a race unknown to Dante, hoping that he would be spared if he gave valuable information, burst out with the answer, ¡°Uhh... Five! No... four! Three scrawny bastards that ripped limb from limb and a big motherfucker that ate a guard¡¯s grenade!¡± Dante blinked at Joan while squeezing the trigger in his hands after hearing the end of the response. The one hailed as the Skinwalker in underground circles understood his meaning, injecting the deadly serum into the other criminal. Brains soon splattered across the walls while the remaining prisoner dove into insanity and shoved Joan. Fortunately, the dark-haired woman kept her footing near the bits of debris with her spare set of arms. The hairy man stumbled to his feet, preparing to sprint away, but he only got four steps before he slowed. Then, at the sixth, he faceplanted, never to move again. Such murders shook Sonna to the core, but she did all that she could not to show it. Her gaze shifted to the other three, and she found them to be unfazed. To them, this was only normal. This was their lives now. Her life now. She would either acclimate or die. With a deep inhale, she could only follow Dante as he strolled down the hallway where the runaway now lay. With his footsteps, Dante flung out a casing from his pistol to reload it and explained himself, ¡°Four ¡®Phages and one ¡®Archy. This won¡¯t be easy. Rejo, high alert. Anything that moves, and I mean anything, shoot to kill. Archimedes is locked up on Neg-Two based on how they rank their prisoners, and I doubt he would have left his cell with all this going on. Kid¡¯s too... anti-social.¡± Sonna strode up alongside the human, the interior getting harder and harder to distinguish as they left the moonlit entrance. In contrast to the fading skylight, flames licked at their feet from debris and the less-mangled corpses. ¡°Hey. What are Joan and I supposed to do?¡± Sonna asked as she begged for a task that wasn¡¯t fighting a monster head-on without saying so. Thankfully, Dante delivered a response as he kicked up a piece of burning wood with a long enough section to hold of safe material, ¡°Eyes. We need light to fight. Joan can handle herself. Just wait.¡± Sonna turned to find an eerie smile birthed by Joan¡¯s face. Something about it set her off-kilter, and she stepped back with the fire in her hands. Joan opened her mouth, placing a cupped palm against it, and hissed with a laugh before following Dante further into the prison. The Weren hurried along with a shaking head, refusing to be left behind or be useless. That was until she bumped straight into Rejo¡¯s broad spine. Bounced back, Sonna opened her mouth to say something about him, strangling the voice in her throat when she saw what he was looking at. A vast, open chamber, surrounded by hundreds of bloodied and burning cells, was nothing compared to the spectacle in the center of it all. A roaring and enraged Anaphage turned to face them with several broken metal spikes stuck in its warped flesh. Sonna¡¯s mind stuttered as she saw the billowing waves of the Lightsea concentrate around the Qualae. Words left her mouth before she realized what she was saying, ¡°It¡¯s maturing!¡± Dirge didn¡¯t grow like sentients. They were born scrambling for power and slicing apart foes. With each slain creature or step toward their Tide, a little more light flowed into them. When enough light had gathered, whether from violence or training, they evolved. The news was worse than abysmal. If it successfully acclimated to the Lightsea at a higher level, then it could wield more than brutal physicality. It would possess Stigmata or wield the Lightsea¡¯s Tides, only as an Anathema would they maintain both. Dante and Rejo didn¡¯t possess her stammer and immediately let loose the lead within their guns, the echoing noise hurting all of their ears indoors. Regardless, they refused to cease their fire, even as the roar swiftly overcame the sound of their gunfire. 12 - Curse Of The Old Salt The closer one goes to the center of the stars, the more influential the Lightsea¡ªand other dimensions¡ªbecome. That is common knowledge. What isn¡¯t, however, is where the Lightsea¡¯s entrance is. I believe it¡¯s in the Great Cavity, hidden in its dark corridors. As do other Praetors. Nonetheless, we¡¯ve failed every expedition. We haven¡¯t come close, but it is believed that one succeeded. Legate Swane ventured into the Darkness beyond the Heart centuries ago. Second to solely the shadows hidden behind reality, she should have returned. Wounded, perhaps, but leaving no hints of her passing? No ruined Sectors? No supernova-level energy spikes? None of the Legates, Gravitors, or Endless sensed anything. She vanished into the Darkness, and such is the greatest humor of our Empire. We lost our strongest in a meaningless scuffle of politick. It is my opinion that no other expeditions should proceed without a Legate to guide them. All these do is drown our men. If a Praetor must lead, however¡­ Allow me to enter the Darkness. No one else shall die in my stead. A brawny bundle of scars and seeping flesh stumbled forward through a hallway of death. Heads, arms, legs, and every other part of a living being lay scattered across the concrete aisles of the underground floor. Despite that fact, Lucius Waters¡¯ every step reverberated with the splattering of blood and the release of his life. Beside him, a scrawny young man aided him in his movement, though Archimedes¡¯ feeble arms did little to help. ¡°Mr. Waters? Are¡ªare you sure you¡¯re okay? You¡¯ve... lost a lot of blood,¡± Archimedes spoke, his voice trembling with worry. The weight brought pain to his legs, but he didn¡¯t complain. The Martian grunted, brushing off Isaac¡¯s concern, ¡°I¡¯m fine. We just need to keep moving.¡± Then he stopped dead, whipping his head around despite his blood loss. The distant sound of gunfire echoed through the corridors, louder and sharper than before. He had felt the rumblings before when they were deeper, but those noises came from a deeper floor. These bullets, however, were different. Traditional weapons? Gunpowder. Yes, the scent is unmistakable. That means... it can¡¯t be the guards. Someone¡¯s here. But why? To break out a prisoner? Likely. Is that what this is all for? Who would release such monsters for a prison break? Lucius¡¯ teeth ground against each other as his mind sprang to a sole answer. It was a group of cloak and dagger madmen he had been chasing for years. The Federation Of Flesh had arrived. They were in the area last he knew. Back then, he was caught slaughtering a Baron and his associates after he smelled the taint of the Lightsea on them and spotted a Dirge hidden among them. Lucius was sure that the old man he cut up was partnered with them, but the bastard just wouldn¡¯t talk until he bled out from his peeled skin. Suddenly, his footsteps enjoyed more strength than they did a moment prior. The two hearts within the soldier¡¯s chest beat with frenetic motion, delivering energy he had thought lost forever. They were here. His enemies. The man¡¯s mouth watered for violence, and he strode out from Arch¡¯s care. His back straightened as he pressed his bloodied and charred palm against the last steel door. ¡°Stay here. Don¡¯t come out until I say so,¡± Lucius¡¯ words bore zero negotiation, with no room for error or judgment. API nodded his head with fright, placing his shoulder against the wall as his guardian burst through the entrance. Gunfire shook the air without the door¡¯s noise suppression, and the boy flinched, huddling against the wall. Despite the weapon he¡¯d made for Lucius, terror clutched at him, wrapping icy tendrils around his heart. He was still terrified. More than that. Archimedes knew what that gunfire meant. People were here. And no matter how illogical it sounded to him, his heart screamed that they were here for him. They wanted to take him. To use him. To force him to be their tool. The young man didn¡¯t want to be used anymore. His thoughts were pure and opaque, despite the scattered blood on his cheek. I want to be happy. But the gunfire didn¡¯t allow for his happiness. It only brought hysteria and anguish, and Archimedes knew that. He was well aware Lucius might not come back for him. Yet, the older man stepped out, anyway. The soldier didn¡¯t slow for a second as he slithered from the reinforced door and behind some debris. His gaze crept out from the inside of the mangled tables and chairs with bodies squished inside. His keen eyes noted the familiar shapes, his memory flooding with details as he observed them from behind cover. The two hearts rumbled in sync while Lucius¡¯ mind comprehended the situation. Four fighting a new Anarchy. One Weren. An... Araki? And a Harenlar? What kind of¡ªhuman!? Lucius¡¯ whole being shook with astonishment. It had been a century since he last saw one of these putrid beings. And... that was shortly after his hands returned to bloodshed. He didn¡¯t blame the woman, but humans were ill omens for all. Destruction is all they wrought. The long weapon in his hands nearly revealed his position from his surprise as the human glanced over at him, reeking of the Lightsea in the Martian¡¯s sharp nose. Nodding, Lucius glided to another hiding spot while his enemies stood distracted, like that of a ghost, as his feet were utterly noiseless. Lucius ducked back behind a pillar, cataloging their movements, creating a map of the battlefield from the sounds and sights around him. He envisioned it with his abundant experience, not missing an ounce of detail. Three of the Federation actively took part in the battle, the Araki and the human who fired their gunpowder without restraint. One thing remained peculiar to him, however. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The Harenlar was cradling a syringe in one hand and a stout pistol in the other, taking more care with each bullet while her secondary pair fiddled with some kind of device. Lucius¡¯ brows narrowed, deducing the meaning. She had little ammo and wasn¡¯t all that skilled with the weapon. Though he¡¯d have to watch out for whatever the serum was. Finally, there was that last one. The petite Weren. She was the least threatening, only carrying the torch so the others could see in the dim light. Still, he felt a shiver at imagining her. She possessed a power, too. But she was hiding it. The torch must be a distraction. Lucius knew the human could acclimate to the darkness just as he could. The bastard only needed time¡ªtime Lucius would not provide. The battle continued, and the soldier simply listened, cautious not to reveal himself too early. Instead, he waited for the perfect moment to strike. But as the seconds passed, Lucius grew confused. The Anarchy was winning. Why? These were Federation agents, no? If they were here undercover to retrieve a target, then a single Anarchy should be easy pickings for all four. Yet it wasn¡¯t. Were they recruits? Some kind of initiation mission? Nothing was adding up in Lucius¡¯ mind. From the first floor, his heightened hearing brought much of the outside world to him, and he navigated the chaos with experience. This wasn¡¯t his first time locked in an incomplete Domain. Anathemas were rare. Very. But with longevity like Lucius, they weren¡¯t something he had never seen before. An Anathema is on-world. And these four don¡¯t seem all too strong. The human is decent, but... he¡¯s... unpracticed. I¡¯ve never seen a Seafarer, Psion, Cultivator, or Windbreaker so... fucking pitiful. Definitely not the root cause. So... what then? Opportunists? Fuck¡­ he¡¯s human. Thoughts spun in the man¡¯s mind, whirling despite his blood loss and high levels of adrenaline. He didn¡¯t want to attack if he was wrong. While he was never against butchering criminals, something about this group was just off in his eyes. Unsure, Lucius decided to just wait and see how the fight would turn out. ¡°Dammit, Dante!¡± the Weren¡¯s exasperated voice cut off, as Lucius¡¯ mind¡¯s eye matched the names with the bodies. ¡°Not now, Sonna! Toss the torch here! Rejo! Shoot its ankle!¡± Dante¡¯s command was swift, possessing the qualities of a leader. Instantly, Lucius found the one to be most wary of. The Araki swiftly followed orders, a disciplined man in Lucius¡¯ mind, and blew out the Anarchy¡¯s left ankle with a stream of shots from his lever action. The Dirge fell to the rubble with a roar, its bear-like form stumbling with only three functioning legs. As it did so, the human dashed forward, a revolver in one hand and the burning torch in the other. Lucius struggled to compute why this ¡®Dante¡¯ didn¡¯t simply use his powers, either his Stigmata or his Tide. People faced disadvantage in others¡¯ domains, even if incomplete, but such techniques shouldn¡¯t disable entire abilities. Dante ducked beneath the Anarchy¡¯s swipe as the Harenlar shot above him, impacting the dense shadowy fur of the Anarchy. It hardly reacted to the bullet, but the slight distraction gave the human time to close the distance. Only a few feet from the bear-like monster, Dante leaped at the creature, not away. Blood streaked from several gashes, trailing after him, but with a quick scramble, the human landed atop the Anarchy. Lucius wanted to scoff, finding the move of sheer idiocy as a surefire way to death, but he held his breath. This was a human¡ªone of the scant few races in the galaxy that could even come close to keeping up with a Martian. They were lesser, of course, but the gap wasn¡¯t as impassable as with any other race. It was hard for any to believe there used to be billions of these people, while at their greatest, there were not even a hundred thousand Martians. The torch in Dante¡¯s hand burned higher up, nearly reaching his flesh, but he didn¡¯t care. Dante slammed light-turned-weapons into the Anarchy¡¯s bestial eye, flaring bright. With the pain, it roared in dying fury, attempting to stand on its hind legs. But it couldn¡¯t rise high enough to throw the human off. An eye shined in the dark, understanding the many bullets put into the creature¡¯s back leg even before Dante called out to Rejo. Smart. But you need more than wits to kill a Qualae. You need power. This Anarchy is big. A hundred bullets might be enough to destroy it. The innards of the prison rattled as all the remaining glass shattered, and the Anarchy flung its bulk toward a wall. As the creature neared the concrete, Dante leaped off without hesitation, crashing into the broken stones beneath him. With the painful landing, his shout cut through the echoing howls, ¡°Joan! Now! The Juggler!¡± Lucius¡¯ brow arched while the Harenlar injected the serum into her flesh with a giggle, ¡°Just for you, Dante. These are mighty expensive. I could always use some more data, though!¡± Flesh rippled and grew in the flickering flames that spread across the Anarchy¡¯s misshapen fur. The tall woman, a little under six feet, grew to match Lucius¡¯ in height, only her vertical pairs of arms on each side fused to create monstrous limbs. Each must have held the weight of an entire person as liquid silver ran across the muscles and bone, bringing a vile distaste to Lucius¡¯ mouth. The creature before him no longer even appeared to be female but closer to a Dirge than a sentient. What is that? A spike of bone birthed from the creature¡¯s wrist as the disgusting and revolting arm ratcheted backward. Meanwhile, the Anarchy thrust itself away from the wall it slammed into, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough. Air crackled as that arm whipped forward, delivering that yard-long spike of bone into the Infant¡¯s chest. And then further. The projectile pierced through the entire creature, nailing it to the wall. Once stuck there, Dante strode forward one step at a time before fumbling for something in his belt. The smell of chemicals came to Lucius as he knew what the human was about to do. As he pounced ahead, Dante flung a flask of medicine-smelling acid onto the bestial creature¡¯s head before releasing bullet after bullet into its skull. Just a few rounds later, the Anarchy deflated, and its corpse succumbed to the Lightsea. The four celebrated, though they were all fatigued. Blood dripped from the two men while the single monstrous woman rumbled incomprehensibly through her mass about the ¡®Biotic Juggler¡¯ lasting for an hour. The Weren stared at the dissipating corpse, silent to the joys of her allies. Unnoticed, Lucius¡¯ teeth ground against each other as he knew something few did. Dirge never died. When killed... they just went back to the Lightsea to heal. Then... they would return, though they may have a different mind and personality, with fresh memories and a forgotten past. Nonetheless, they would be back. It may take years or decades, perhaps even centuries, but they would return. There were few ways to permanently kill a Dirge, and none of the people here knew of one. It was a never-ending invasion of his universe, something that the Romans, Glaniecians, and Ostaceans knew all too well but wouldn¡¯t release to the public. Idiots like the Federation used these interdimensional creatures for their whims, ignorant of such a fact. Though, even if they knew, it likely wouldn¡¯t matter. For now, the powerhouses of the Heart, whether Roman, Ostacean, or Glaniecian, kept most of the Lightsea in line. But some things slipped through, even to the outermost regions. It was always the case, whether it was criminals, corruption, or the greatest threat to life in all of history. But just as Lucius pulled his mind into focus, he recalled something. He concentrated too much on the idea that these four were Federation spies. Now, he¡¯s sure they aren¡¯t. They didn¡¯t have any such technology as Joan. Still, that Anarchy they killed wasn¡¯t either of the two he had previously accounted for. There was still one more. A pair of soft footsteps on torn concrete ripped Lucius¡¯ eyes to the side as he stared at Archimedes, the young man leaving his hiding spot. Concern welled up alongside confusion because Lucius couldn¡¯t comprehend why Isaac would reveal himself. Arch isn¡¯t some dunce who would think everything was over when voices started. Voices. Voices. ¡°Dante? Is that you?¡± Arch asked aloud, proving Lucius¡¯ thought process correct. The Martian, in response, prepared to bolt from his stealth if the four showed even an ounce of hostility. His muscles vibrated with scarcely concealed strain, just awaiting the moment to strike. Fortunately for the four, the human beamed warmly with surprise, extending an open palm toward Arch after holstering his pistol, ¡°No. Fucking. Way. API? How¡¯d you get here?¡± he said, his voice tinged with surprise. ¡°You¡¯ve grown.¡± ¡°Really? Oh... umm... I¡ª¡± Isaac stammered with so much attention, unable to speak. Meanwhile, the familiarity, the warmth, twisted something in Lucius¡¯ gut, and he almost felt his guard lower. But then he heard it¡ªa faint, telltale scraping. He wasn¡¯t the only one, too. Dante¡¯s head flung around the multi-layered prison section, the rows of cells above with wretched bars and burning debris. Together, the two pairs of eyes swept the building as swiftly as they could. A shadow detached from the darkness, a claw speeding toward Archimedes. It grasped for the spine of the young boy. Lucius bolted, shattering concrete beneath him, but Dante was closer and nearly as fast, yanking Archimedes aside just in time. API didn¡¯t even have the time to understand what was happening to him as arms wrapped around him and wrenched him to the side. A heartbeat later, warmth spread across Pythagoras¡¯ spine, and he looked around, confused, only to find Dante standing behind him. A bony hand, clenched around a heart with one final pump in it, stared right back at Arch. Gore dripped in spades, almost mocking the human¡¯s attempt at life. Archimedes shrieked in horror, ¡°Dante!?¡± as he fell onto his ass and split open his hands, realizing that one of the few people he had ever met who didn¡¯t hate him was damned because of him. The lithe Anarchy tossed the soon-to-be corpse to the side as another figure rose to meet it. At nearly seven feet tall, the dark-skinned Martian held his makeshift spear to the Anarchy¡¯s throat. Both stood unmoving for several seconds, sizing up their opponents. Lucius realized this one was stronger than the others. It was different¡ªsmart, calculating. Its eyes glittered with a feral intelligence that spoke of something more sinister than the mindless rage of its kin. Was it an Anachronism? Lucius wasn¡¯t sure. It might very well be. None would know unless it tossed out a Tide or a Stigmata. His hands tightened around his weapon as he pushed Archimedes back, ¡°Away. Now.¡± The child crawled away, his unnaturally pale skin opposite to the blood on his hands and knees. Without ever looking away from his prey, Lucius smiled at it, ready to kill. But the instant before his taut muscles detonated with power, he heard bones crack and a gasp ring through the building. Slowly, his eyes slid to the human, the chest closed, and his heart replaced. Interesting. It must be his Stigmata. A healing type. I will have to ki¡ª A claw stopped an inch from Lucius¡¯ eye, his spear defending his life on pure reflex. Growling saliva dribbled from the Dirge¡¯s lanky countenance as it lunged again, and Lucius¡¯ balde was there like a mirror, deflecting the blow just a hair from his face. Lucius¡¯ brows narrowed, as he knew this was dire. This fight would be a breeze if he were at his best. Now, with him not yet fully recovered, it was not so ironclad. Faster than me. Stronger, too. Top of the road for an Anarchy, I suppose. If I wasn¡¯t so hurt... No time! The spear made of warped metal from the heat of a burning penitentiary flipped again to catch a warbling stinger as the monster went on the offense. It left not a moment of respite for Lucius. 13 - Weakness Unto Strength A devouring haze encircled a kneeling woman, with booming footsteps echoing beyond her sight along phantoms murmuring into her ears. She attempted to raise her head, to fight back, but a firm, translucent hand clasped her chin and held her still. ¡°Hmm¡­ This was quite easy. Perhaps we should invade the Wings more often. Hana? What do you think?¡± The woman shifted her eyes just in time to see a watery projectile sail through the haze and into her robotic eye, snuffing out the camera. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have done that. What if it stabbed your brain? You¡¯d be dead. Fucking idiot,¡± a bitter tone echoed over the clash of metal against the Anarchy¡¯s keratinous claws. Dante snapped his head toward Judas, who had reformed above, sitting on the second-floor railing with his legs dangling over the edge. Judas, however, didn¡¯t like Dante¡¯s gaze and blasted him with a jeer, ¡°What are you looking at me for? You¡¯ve got an Anarchy to kill, don¡¯t you?¡± Dante cursed under his breath, only stopping midway through as he felt the intensity of a gaze on him. He turned back to see Lucius fighting the Anarchy, toe-to-toe like a seasoned Seafarer. Dante couldn¡¯t help but feel a shiver run down his spine as a spark from Lucius¡¯ spear flew past his eyes. This guy is dangerous. Highly. Even with those wounds. Is he human? He looks it... but no. Not possible. They were all wiped out during the First Spiral War. The strange warrior roared at him to erase his thoughts, the voice rough but unmistakably demanding, ¡°Help, you bastard! Can¡¯t you see it¡¯s too strong?¡± From the man¡¯s scars alone, most would have waged that he was too prideful to accept help. But it seemed such was not the case. As he rubbed the spot where a hole in his shirt and chest should be, he noticed how his clothes returned as well. An idle thought wagged over to the strengthening of his ability, but he didn¡¯t have time to consider it. Instead, he drew his gun and hollered for Joan, ¡°Joan! Get it in the leg! We¡¯ll try to slow it for you!¡± The Juggler Biotic was supposed to last for an hour. They hadn¡¯t been fighting for that long yet, so Joan still had some time to join in. The bounty hunter turned soon-to-be-hunted-bounty darted ahead, drawing a knife to match his revolver, ¡°Rejo! On me!¡± Dante exuded confidence, something he had taught himself to do, regardless of the fear in his heart. It increased the chance of survival, both in social and painful conditions. Deep within, he was not so stable, for the outward bravado hid a flooding of fear. He nearly died a moment ago. A second too late on his connection to the Lightsea, and he¡¯d be gone. Forever. Shaky hands tightened as Dante realized just how deep into this marsh he was. They are fast. So fast. My augments won¡¯t be able to keep up for more than a few seconds before overheating and burning my insides. Rejo will get torn apart. He¡¯ll just have to keep his distance, yet this man needs help. So... it¡¯ll have to be me. He slid under a lashing tail, unloading a round into the Anarchy¡¯s leg as he surged forward. Lucius¡¯ spear whistled through the air, aiming for the creature¡¯s head, but it ducked, retaliating with a clawed swipe that would have been lethal if not for Lucius¡¯ speed. The massive man caught the Anarchy¡¯s wrist just shy of his face, straining under its force. Dante saw the wobble in the hold, knowing that it wouldn¡¯t last long. He drew closer, knowing very well he may die again. The man leaped in without hesitation. While grappling the Anarchy¡¯s other arm, he plunged his knife toward its tail. During the scuffle, a series of bullets rang out from Rejo, striking the Anarchy before Dante called for their heaviest hitter, ¡°Joan!¡± Her name howled into the air as Dante¡¯s insides boiled, the augments working overtime and breaking apart at their seams. Dante overwhelmed Anaphages, but an Anarchy was different. It didn¡¯t help this one was a possible higher form, likely too much to bear. As Dante gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might, he felt himself on the verge of bursting from the inside until a flutter of air graced his face. With a smile, knowing what had to occur, Dante glanced down. There, he found a basin-sized hole in the Anarchy¡¯s chest. The monster stumbled, and the human fell backward, already exhausted from such violence. It was fortunate, for as he retreated, the Martian advanced, swinging his spear with the lethality to behead anything. A rolling skull hit the floor, the corpse already phasing back to the Lightsea. Dante collapsed to the ground, his augments screaming for attention and rest. They allowed his body to work beyond its limits, but not without a price. His muscles were torn, his ligaments shredded, and his energy levels decimated. All of that, just to keep up with this... Martian. He has to be one. Ha... And I thought I was rare. Hopefully... he doesn¡¯t hold a grudge. A hand descended to Dante¡¯s face while he labored to think of what to do next. There was a threat before him, and so he noticed the offered palm several seconds late. ¡°Are you going to take it? I¡¯m not going to kill you,¡± Lucius said, a hint of a smile breaking through his otherwise stoic expression. ¡°You saved Arch. I¡¯m Lucius, by the way.¡± Dante gazed upward as he was hauled to his feet with the accepted handshake, Lucius towering over his height. The blood from the massive man crashed downward as if challenging the human. As such, Dante¡¯s mind rushed for answers, attempting to figure out who this was, until it ultimately hit him. A Martian. Said to be wiped out. Strong enough to kill an Anarchy. Or more. Without a hint of the Lightsea. He¡¯s worked for some dangerous folk, then. Dangerous enough to hide all existence of him. Then... how is he here? Only one answer.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Dante found his answer with complete confidence. As he often was, his guess identified the mark with precision. He¡¯s off their leash. A rogue agent. The most threatening hound is one without its owner to coral it. Dante knew this well, so he chose his words with extreme caution. ¡°Dante Penance. A joy to meet you. These are my... friends. The abomination is Joan. She¡¯ll shift back soon. The little one is Sonna, and the Araki goes by Rejo. How... do you know API?¡± Lucius chuckled while tearing off a piece of the gray jumpsuit from the corpse of a prisoner on the main floor. Then he tied it around a crooked gash across his ribs, revealing the insides of his body. It did little for all his wounds, but he continued to tend to himself while motioning for the young man to come over. All the while, his injuries seemed to wriggle and spasm, an unnatural regeneration taking place. Archimedes stumbled over rumble and corpses with a grimace to reach the two he recognized. Meanwhile, Lucius¡¯ tone fell to gravel, harsh in nature and threatening on such a slippery day, ¡°Met him here. Out of all the bastards in this place, Arch isn¡¯t half bad. Are you, buddy?¡± he called Archimedes over with a nod. ¡°I promised I¡¯d get him out. You got a problem with that?¡± Dante shook his head, assuring the man no such problem existed. Furthermore, he hinged on kindness instead of necessity with his words, ¡°Not at all. We¡¯re here to free him. Kid doesn¡¯t deserve this, let alone an execution,¡± he turned to Rejo next. ¡°Grab the white syringe from my pack¡ªit¡¯s Joan¡¯s Neutralant. Joan, once you¡¯re yourself again, patch Lucius up.¡± The human collapsed to a chair, his ass slamming into the nearly broken thing that somehow survived the violence. Lucius returned a nod of thanks while Sonna crept forward. A harrowing change occurred behind them while Joan returned to her normal shape. The crackling of bones inundated their ears and caused both Sonna and API to flinch while the two veterans spoke. ¡°What happened here? Anathema or higher?¡± Lucius asked, as if experienced with such a foe. Dante could only nod, his shaky hand reaching toward the entry hallway. The human pivoted back to face his race¡¯s fabled creation, ¡°Yeah. His name was Astraeus. Had some sort of control over space with the Lightsea.¡± Dante continued, explaining the general situation while walking. Lucius soon learned of the Judge planning on slaying the Anathema. Both sat in silence for a moment while Sonna ogled Lucius. He turned to face her for a beat before waving his head in annoyance. His focus returned to Dante even as Joan shambled by, muttering something about ligament structure. Stitches were already suturing into Lucius¡¯ flesh while some serum aided the regeneration of his cells. Still, his eyes squinted at Dante. The man met the gaze, knowing a question was coming. ¡°You¡¯re new, aren¡¯t you? I saw you only use the Lightsea once. Either you¡¯re a prodigious liar, or you¡¯re new. Because I can tell you¡¯re not stupid,¡± the Martian rumbled into the now-empty prison, crackling with hints of flame. Resistant to the heat, the building endured quietly, but Dante¡¯s attention was distracted from it all by a voice in his ear, ¡°Don¡¯t say a damned word to him. He¡¯ll kill you.¡± Dante¡¯s head twisted to the side in reaction, and he immediately knew he made a mistake. Lucius pounced with another question, ¡°What are you looking at?¡± ¡°Nothing. Yeah. You got me. I¡¯ve only had a Qualae for a few days. Still new to it all. Kind of on the run, too. The powers that be don¡¯t like humans all that much,¡± Dante edged the line between honesty and falsity as he spoke. He didn¡¯t want Lucius to know too much about him. It would be better to keep him at a distance. ¡°Heh! Ain¡¯t that the truth? Well, I recommend you at least learn how to pull some droplets into your body. Even if we are in an incomplete Domain, it¡¯ll make a vast difference in a fight. And you. Over there. What is your Tide?¡± Lucius asked as his virulent pupils stared square at the least expected body in the room. Sonna. The woman stuttered backward in surprise, pointing a finger at herself, ¡°Wh¡ªwhat do you mean? I don¡¯t. I¡¯m perfectly normal. No voices in my head. No powers. Nothing. Just a Weren.¡± Dante glanced at Sonna, confused as he recalled Judas¡¯ hint, but the Martian quickly stomped away all doubts, ¡°I sense the Lightsea on you. In you. What do you mean voices? Qualae don¡¯t talk. Either they take over, or they don¡¯t. If you¡¯re hearing voices, something¡¯s wrong.¡± A chill ran down Dante¡¯s spine as time appeared to slow. For all others, nothing happened. The conversation continued as normal, and the human didn¡¯t move an inch. Within Dante¡¯s mind, however¡­ The shadows lengthened, and darkness overtook reality. A pair of spindly, growing nails grew out from behind Lucius¡¯ skull as the gloaming took everything over. Dante saw nothing but the void before him. From that midnight, eyes opened of pale yellow and glistering in arrogance. ¡°Hush now.¡± It didn¡¯t look like Judas. It didn¡¯t look like him at all. The creature looked¡­ more like Dante than his brother, as if stuck in-between the two. Worse yet... Dante saw the threat on the mystery¡¯s face and swallowed. None saw the what conspired between the human and his possessor, for their focus rested on Sonna as she shuddered in a similar fear. Everyone hushed for her breakdown, for her knees struck the concrete with tears already beginning to drip in clusters, ¡°No. No. Nonononononononono! I don¡¯t want this! Dante! Take it out of me! Please!¡± Lucius shook his head and reached forward to place a firm hand on her head. The brunette¡¯s hair mashed beneath his hand did little to help the chaos in her mind, nor did his words as he stated, ¡°There is no removing a Qualae. I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t know, though... Still, you will be fine. Just don¡¯t use whatever Stigmata or Tide you have, and they won¡¯t develop. Should be pretty easy. Of course, you will draw in the Lightsea, however, so that may not be the best path for you. Archimedes moved closer to Dante. The boy¡¯s concentration fell onto the man and no one else at this moment, his voice barely a whisper, ¡°Why did you come for me? It¡¯s been years since...¡± his words rolled off into nothingness due fear, but Dante knew what he was getting at. It was clear to everyone how Dante thought. He¡¯d never come just to get him. He¡¯d worry about that later, though. For now, they needed to get moving. Dead darkness only brought more in. At least, that¡¯s how Dante thought the saying went. ¡°I wasn¡¯t lying. It was to save you. I also would like you to join me. But we can worry about that later, and you are always free to say no. There are more important things for now. Lucius? How do I harness these droplets? Do you have any ideas of where to go?¡± Dante spoke, needing guidance despite his desire to see Lucius begone. Lucius held knowledge that no one else did within the group The Martian finished dressing his wounds as Joan checked his bandages, possessing some answers, ¡°We need to find that Judge, Claudius, right? He¡¯ll be gathering any Seafarers or Psions he can find. I bet he¡¯s heading here next to rally those in Neg-Three. We won¡¯t get off this planet unless we kill that Anathema or drive it off.¡± Dante in understanding. He saw the logic that they would have to join up with Claudius, but something in the back of his brain warned him not to. Still... there really was only one other option, which was hoping Arch could improve the Starsinger enough to fly during such an event. Dante didn¡¯t like putting all his eggs in one basket, even if he believed in Archimedes¡¯ success. As Dante forced himself to stand, he proposed a deciding question to Lucius, ¡°Okay, where do you think he¡¯d be?¡± Joan¡¯s regenerative serum had done wonders, and while he could reach out to the Lightsea, he was fearful of what it might mean. It seemed others struggled to commune with it while an Anathema had grounded the interdimensional entity. As for Dante, however... he didn¡¯t like how easy it was for him now. It felt... wrong. He blended into Astraeus¡¯ Domain with an eerie ease. ¡°Does it matter? I say we sit tight and wait until Claudius returns. More will come, yes, but we can defend ourselves. Especially if you hand me a weapon,¡± Lucius stood, too, putting his hand out for the undeniable. The images in Dante¡¯s mind were finally clicking. With Lucius standing guard, Dante could rest easy, knowing this place was secure. Meanwhile, he could leave with Arch to check on his ship. API could give it a quick once over, and the kid would know his limits then and there. The plan shifted from hollow to possessing muscle as his mind shifted into gear. If Archimedes is confident, then I can rush back and pick up the others. Probably. If he¡¯s not... We¡¯ll come back, anyway. But I¡¯ll have to bring someone with me. Who? Dante¡¯s eyes swam over the others. He noted Joan¡¯s fatigue and the strain of using her Biotics too much for what had already transpired. She¡¯ll need to sleep a bit to use another one, whether it¡¯s Juggler, Pouncer, or Rat. Shaking his head, he pushed on to the next. Rejo. Rejo was a good option. But... his eyes twisted over to Sonna. The Araki no longer had a Qualae. If he did, Lucius would have noticed it. That was, unless the man¡¯s senses were not as sharp as he believed. As for the Weren, it made perfect sense a Dirge had found her in the chaos. She was on the ship, after all, and she didn¡¯t die like the others. Dante didn¡¯t think she was compromised like Rejo was, but he wanted to monitor her. Who knew what her Stigmata was? Or what might lie within her? The only piece that restrained his paranoia was that she never displayed a hint of odd behavior like Rejo did on the ship. Such made his decision. Dante put a hand on Archimede¡¯s head of overgrown hair from being in a cell and brought himself to the young man¡¯s height, ¡°Do you want to see if you can make a starship fly through this madness?¡± When presented with a task, a challenge, Pythagoras¡¯s eyes lit up with anticipation. The human shared a curt nod with Lucius, one that carried many words but sounded none. ¡°Yes! I¡¯ll do my best,¡± the boy radiated his joy outward, finally free of his prison. Dante could only grin, feeling a warmth in his chest at seeing such a thing. Then, he turned to his other companion, ¡°Good. Sonna. You¡¯re with us. We¡¯ll get the ship and come back here for the rest. If something goes wrong, we¡¯ll come back immediately.¡± Sonna looked panicked, backing away with a frantic shake of her head. Dante sighed. He should have expected this. 14 - Fate’s Cast Die First Rule: Judges answer only to the Congress and its Praetors. Your superiors can only delegate, not decide on matters of politick. Second Rule: Judges slay all Lightsea-spawn they see. Maybe not the first time, but you will, eventually. Or you shall die. The Second is the only rule that can precede the first. Third Rule: All Judges must be capable of neutralizing a Vector-2 without a weapon. Fourth Rule: All Judges must be capable of neutralizing a Vector-3 on their own. Fifth Rule: All Judges give their lives for peace. Sixth Rule: If a Judge believes themselves to die, then they must invoke their Praetor¡¯s name and stand once more. Seventh Rule: A Judge is never dead. They are only working on an incomplete case. A broad figure strode through an empty office, his skin a hardened, ashen hue while his eyes flashed around the scene. Humanoid in stature but gray in skin, the Tianshe gave a low, disgusted scoff at the surrounding devastation. A severed head lay in the room¡¯s center. Someone had detached it from its body, leaving the two pieces lying a dozen paces apart, with the spine strained to cover the distance. Blood and gore littered the space between them. His hands tightened in their gloves in disbelief. The Baron was already dead. The Tianshe couldn¡¯t fathom how this could have happened. Dead? Already? That means... From his holster, Claudius Vermillion, son of a whore and a Praetorian, flicked a cigarette into his fingers. With practiced ease, he rolled it to his lips, igniting it with a spark from his thumb. He inhaled to the depths, seeking to calm the nerves that had been building since he took his badge. ¡°Damn it. This planet wasn¡¯t even on my route to the Silenced Star Cluster. Here I am, nonetheless. Fucker got you too, huh, Baron? Who am I supposed to go to for help now?¡± Claudius finished his long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily through the air. It had been a rough few weeks. Ever since he deployed from Suture¡¯s Advance, things had spiraled. He was here to deal with the ¡®ripple effects¡¯, as they said, of an awakened Anacrux on Garia¡ªVector-2s and 3s at most. His Praetor had asked him to do whatever the standing Praetor there told him to. Everything reeked of bureaucracy, and it made him scowl in contemplation. Yeah right. Now I have to deal with this. I would anyway, but... There are no Centurions here. No other Judges. No more seniors. Just me. And if I fail... This whole planet dies. It¡¯s not just Astraeus. He has someone behind him. Claudius was young for a Judge, terribly so. Most were in their mid-thirties to forties. This one? Hardly twenty-five. That didn¡¯t mean he was without foresight. Congress didn¡¯t hand out the Designation of Seer lightly. Claudius was a Tide-Seer, but dual Designations were unusual, almost akin to that of an Anomaly in rarity. They recognized his uniqueness, a Seer capable of mastering his Tide for combat. The scarcity of such struck deeply into his heart, for if his family hadn¡¯t fallen, he¡¯d never have come out here. Most Seers were never meant to leave Congress. Nevertheless, fate found Claudius useful outside his comfort. By turning around to face his rear, Claudius confronted the Harenlar he had found desperately rummaging for droplets. The Judge saved him on the condition that the four-armed man would aid in the Anathema¡¯s eradication. Not that Claudius told the Harenlar about the Vector-4 threat. Claudius hardly cared to learn the man¡¯s name, seeing how he left so many behind to die. The Judge loathed him, but he could not charge him for a crime. All the man did was try to survive. ¡°Isn¡¯t there a prison for Vectored on this planet?¡± Claudius asked, his tone more command than question. ¡°If we¡¯re going to kill this Dirge, we¡¯ll need every bit of help we can get.¡± The Harenlar bobbed his head, hesitation unmistakable in his voice, ¡°Yes, Judge. But I fear they won¡¯t be much help. I think they only put away low-level criminals there.¡± Claudius cursed under his breath, careful not to utter the words he had trained to resonate with his soul. He hated being so far from support, so deep into the boonies. Damn Wings. How am I to deal with an Anathema with so few resources!? A Vector-4? I... I¡¯ve only killed Anachronisms before. Plus, that was recent. A lucky break. Fuck... I should have declined the position. No. I can do this. Because... if I don¡¯t... then who will? The human he had seen before flashed through the Tianshe¡¯s mind, but he shook his head in derision. If that human truly wanted to save anyone, he would have already called him back. Claudius knew, just as all other Romans did, that humans were a scourge upon galaxies. He half-hoped to find that ape splattered across the sidewalk. Claudius turned his back on the remains of the Baron, the other Vector-3 on this planet, dead. Promotion or not, even he had his limits. He hadn¡¯t formed a Jury yet, or assigned one, which meant this was a lone mission. No backup. No support. Other Judges may leave these fools to die in such circumstances. After all, a Judge was a Roman Citizen, and they only had to protect Rome¡¯s interests and Citizens. This planet didn¡¯t even belong to the Roman Empire. Well, it did, technically, but it was so far out that it was in contest with the Ostaceans. Both thought it belonged to them. But... His fists tightened as he led Qain out of the room, not sparing a glance at the Harenlar¡¯s vomit on the carpet. The Judge had endured far worse in training. ¡°We will save this planet. You hear me, Qain? I don¡¯t care what you have going on inside your head, but we will. Maybe I¡¯ll even recommend you to be my Jury when we¡¯re done.¡± Claudius spoke, leaving no room for argument, and Qain could only wobble his underarms in agreement while riddled with fear over his companion¡¯s position. Still, Qain straightened up, his fear clear as he saluted, ¡°Sir, yes, sir!¡±
After a half-hour¡¯s travel, Claudius landed on the concrete roof of a prison. His heart ached from the cries he¡¯d ignored along the way. There was only so much he could do. While he could stop, draw his Executioner, and get to work, that would only end in more pain. They taught and beat him until he learned the correct path.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Kill the Dirge first. His soul wept at the fact his first case would involve an Anathema, capable of drawing more and more of its fellow creatures from the Lightsea. He could do both save and kill if it were not for this situation. While glancing down, the Tianshe opened his fingers and created a gun with the five tendons in his hand. Then, his voice resonated with his soul, the proper way to materialize one¡¯s Tide, not like how these backyard Seafarers did it. ¡°Aqua Calefacta.¡± Such words worked to heighten the mind¡¯s focus. The language didn¡¯t matter, but one had to use the words only for their tasks. Otherwise, they would lose effect. Claudius¡¯ connection with the otherworldly plane trembled as he was so deep within enemy territory, but he converged onward until he felt something give. And in return, the Lightsea distorted reality as he needed. Water, surging extreme pressure, hissed from his fingertips, drilling a hole through the concrete roof within seconds. It took little out of him, but every straw weighed heavily now. He exchanged a glance with Qain before dropping through the hole, gliding to the ground below. The Judge landed softly, with lowered knees and supporting rivers atop the bent ligaments. Then, the man¡¯s eyes swirled and oscillated as all Tianshe¡¯s do, taking in the darkness carefully. The pupils counted the bodies, calculated the blood, and surmised the way forward. As he closed his eyes, a wave of consciousness bled outward, using the ripples in the Lightsea¡¯s presence to sense for prey. Such was Claudius¡¯ specialty. He could see through the madness like no one else. A Seer, he was often called. He didn¡¯t dislike the name, but he much preferred the other titles. Without the backing of a House, he wished to be a simple Tidewalker. With the rare Designation, Congress damned him to a life of strife for his family¡¯s past. The man, possessing only hairs grayed by stress, told Qain, his tone low and tense, ¡°There were Dirge here. Several. But I don¡¯t sense them now. There¡¯s something faint near the entrance. Stay close.¡± Qain followed, cautious and apprehensive of every step. Inside his mind, many questions swirled, but his fear of Judges kept all within the silent realm of thought. Still, Qain held his quartet of daggers aloft, shivering yet ready. The duo strode forward, starting from deep within the prison already, passing by innumerable corpses and lingering fires. Not a single life remained in here. That observation gave Claudius some comfort as he was sure there were not any Dirge remaining here. Still, he didn¡¯t find the idea of delving so deep pleasant. He had to go down here. To him, there was no possibility wherein the Anathema divined he would come here. It was... impossible. But as he delved deeper into the prison, finding more bodies, all the way to Neg-Three, his worries intensified. There were no monsters here. Just corpses. At the elevator that was ruined from the malfunction of technology that hadn¡¯t acclimated to the ruinous tides, Claudius found a string of abnormal carcasses. He considered using his Stigmata, but hesitated. It would cost him of his remaining battery. Just doing it once would leave him woozy for minutes. He couldn¡¯t afford that at this juncture. The information it would provide wasn¡¯t worth it here. Plus, activating it would set it on its week-long cooldown. Claudius knew what he had to do. He turned back to the elevator, prying open its doors with his gloved hands and opening his lips, ¡°Wait for me here. I¡¯ll be back shortly.¡± With the few words, a single digit pointed downward in a slight arc as Claudius¡¯ lungs hummed, ¡°Aqua Calefacta.¡± Water formed in the gap between Claudius¡¯ focus and his hand, condensing to severe friction. A jet of super-heated water cut through the steel beneath him, and he dropped into the darkness, leaving Qain behind. Wind broke at his skin, attempting to slow his fall, but the man didn¡¯t find the prospect of gravity too much of an issue. He had spent nearly two decades preparing for such things. Claudius¡¯ brows furrowed before focusing more profoundly, his connection to the Lightsea solidifying as he pulled more than he had since his fight with Astraeus. As he fell, he whispered again, ¡°Irruente Momento.¡± A coursing river of momentum emerged beneath Claudius, one that he could control for as long as he held that pathway into the Lightsea. With his talents, he could keep three such paths open at once, a rarity for such a youngster. And with the route to the distant beyond, the coursing rivers that would destroy a mind being viewed in their partiality, the Judge fluttered to the bottom of the shaft safely. His waves cushioned his fall with the grace of a rough slide, practiced but not perfect. Disapprovingly, he reminded himself to train more. At the bottom of the shaft, he harbored the flow further within his soul, compelling the moisture to rise to his arms and hide beneath his clothes as he set it to the back of his mind. It would be a waste of mental effort not to do so. His steps brought him to the secretive floor of the central prison on Crislend, smack dab in the center of its largest megacity. Despite where he was, it was still the boonies to him. This floor held only a half-dozen cells and was pitifully small. On Claudius¡¯ home planet, Romulus, a prison such as this would have many more floors and more than one cell. There, it was not uncommon to see former Judges and their enemies sealed together. Rarely, a fallen Centurion might be spotted. Despite the power vacuum on the side of the galaxy, the end of the hallway held an echoing voice. ¡°Ah? Who goes there? I¡¯ve been dying for a drink. Would you mind some Woodford Bourbon? Oh, no! Lagavulin Scotch! That¡¯d make an old man like me cry!¡± The voice rang out with a jarring cheerfulness, dissonant through the prison¡¯s silence. Claudius didn¡¯t respond, for his eyes found the cell¡¯s label. The name on the cell door chilled him: Anomaly 888. Anomaly. Of course. With the week I¡¯ve had, it¡¯s almost expected. But that number¡­ The Judge advanced, his heavy footsteps breaking the silence, and peered into the cell, anticipating finding some aged madman. Instead, a young man, no older than sixteen, sat on a steel chair with three legs. He looked too young, too perfect, as if time had forgotten him. Claudius¡¯ suspicions were in the air, well and clear. The number, to him, just didn¡¯t add up with his memory as he spoke, ¡°Anomaly Eight-Eight-Eight. Why did you receive your designation? Where? If I recall, Anomalies only went up to Six-Six-Five.¡± The young man mechanically smiled, his lips pulling apart far too perfect to be natural as he spoke, his words chilling to Claudius¡¯ spine, ¡°Legate Vicar, the Second Moon. DOD: August 12th, 4043. Reason: Classified.¡± Claudius tensed. It wasn¡¯t just the classification that bothered him, nor was it Legate Vicar¡¯s name, despite the legend being among the top three strongest to hold such a title. It was the date. The date simply made little sense. It didn¡¯t add up. The Judge checked his communicator for his own sanity, just to read a date that sent chills down his spine. August 12th. 3993. Fifty years in the future, Vicar bestowed upon this child such a curse and an honor. Claudius wanted to reach out and use his Stigmata, but he didn¡¯t. He was clever enough to scope out the risks. Such a mystery was far too exalted for such an inferior man to touch in full. ¡°What would it take to bypass the classification?¡± he asked, hoping for a loophole. The man crossed his fingers that he could see what this Anomaly was all about, but he swiftly learned not to play with fire. ¡°No. Praetorian,¡± the boy replied flatly. Claudius¡¯ eyes widened the instant Eight-Eight-Eight said ¡®Praetorian¡¯ into the cramped cell. The man¡¯s thoughts spiraled a second later. Fuck. Praetor-level clearance!? There are only a few thousand in the entire galaxy!? Do I release him? He¡¯s obviously a risk. But that means he¡¯s also strong. Anomalies are a coin-flip in that. Still... he¡¯s a ticking bomb. Do I take the gamble? How much worse can things really get? Claudius¡¯ eyes shivered as the boy¡¯s pupils remained on him for the entire time, closer to a synthetic life form than a living one. But that couldn¡¯t be the case as the Judge sensed an open resonance between 888 and the Lightsea. It was tiny, subtle, and likely only a minor use of his powers, but it was still there. Machines cannot access the Lightsea. They can breach it, yes, with high levels of technology and help from the living, but they cannot wield it. The humans learned that with their own folly. A robot can only grow so far, but one who has tapped into reality itself... It was impossible. Claudius squinted tightly, creeping toward what he knew he would likely regret in the future. ¡°What is your name, 888?¡± Claudius placed a hand against the bars of the cell to extend a gesture of peace while grinding his teeth, torn between distrust and need. The answer was short and succinct, and it tugged at the Judge¡¯s heart, ¡°I have only ever been called by my Designation. Either Eight. Or 888. Both are fine.¡± Teeth barred further into the Tianshe¡¯s lips, drawing blood. This was a risk. A massive one. How many would he take? What sort of standard was he setting? This was his first mission, after all. The boy spoke again while resting his head on his knuckles, his voice calm but with a touch of irony, ¡°I assume there is a problem out there, huh? One you and the Baron can¡¯t handle? Well, you could leave me in here. But that¡¯d be stupid. Get me out. I¡¯m bored anyway. I mean, what¡¯s the sense in locking up all Anomalies? We are the strongest Designations.¡± Claudius shook his head at the boy, who was slowly proving to be egotistical. He had heard Anomalies were like this. ¡°No. You are the most unpredictable and highest risk, not the strongest. Sure, some of you are absurdly strong, but why should I believe you can handle yourself and not crash this planet into its sun?¡± Judge Vermillion demanded as he glared through the bars, gradually forgetting just why he came down here with all this lunacy. The stress was already getting to him, and it had only been a day. Who knew how many it would take to kill this Anathema? The boy dragged his chair forward, scraping metal against concrete, the sound echoing in the hollow space. His laugh was soft, almost taunting, ¡°You don¡¯t have a choice. I bet you¡¯re in for a reaming if a Judge is out here in the Wings. What is it? Anachronism? Multiple, maybe? You¡¯ve got authority here with an invasion. What will it be?¡± The Judge¡¯s mind struggled and fought within itself. Would he? Could he? He did, as Eight said, have full authority upon a planet when Dirge took root, so he knew that no legal action could befall him. Nevertheless, his mind could not find an answer. In the end, he could only ask this boy, far older than he appeared, for help, ¡°It¡¯s an Anathema. Middle of the pack, if I were to guess. What should I do?¡± Eight towed his chair a few inches even closer to the bars, the sound screeching in the silent abyss. It was like an echo of the damned, something that stuck with Claudius far beyond the moment. An awkward fit of laughter came from the boy, dissonant to the sliding legs. He cursed their lives with a shake of his head, ¡°Sheesh, Judge-boy. You¡¯re fucked. Me too. But... I¡¯m in. Always down to prove Father Time wrong. You let me out. And then we handle this bastard together.¡± Claudius sighed profoundly, his shoulders sagging as he was forced to make a brutal choice. Either he left the Anomaly in here and fought without a powerful ally, or he took the chance and released them. There was always a reason they were locked up, despite what Eight said. Anomalies aren¡¯t just placed into purgatory for nothing. Watched every second of their lives? Yes. Imprisoned immediately? No. He needed the answer to this dilemma, and he demanded it from the boy, ¡°Why are you in this shithole? Answer me, and I¡¯ll let you out.¡± A broad smile met Claudius¡¯ skepticism arrogantly with a surprising answer, ¡°They threw me in for something I haven¡¯t done yet. No clue what, but it¡¯s the truth.¡± Fucking Anomalies. Make no damn sense. How did Rasa handle all this bullshit when he was a Judge? What I¡¯d pay to have him on this mission. My first call out of here will be that tough bastard. Claudius lowered his chin, pondering one last time. The answer given struck him as honest. After exhaling roughly, he extended his hand towards the cell¡¯s release mechanism, only to realize it had long corroded away. It hadn¡¯t been there in a long, long while, with rust grown where it was supposed to be. Eight pushed the cell door open with ease, stepping out into the hall as if never imprisoned at all. He stretched his arms, joints cracking with a pleasurable sigh, ¡°Ah, freedom. Thanks for the chat, Judge. So, how are we getting out of this place?¡± Claudius gave a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he began leading the way back up. As they retraced his steps through the abandoned corridors, he hoped he hadn¡¯t just made the biggest mistake of his life. 15 - Lulling Dread Of The Mind Humans are cursed. They are a flawed, imperfect race, yet draw immense strength from these weaknesses. Among their afflictions, the Curse Of Slow Death is the most severe. Where other species would crumble from shock or poison, a human lingers on, prolonging their suffering until their task is complete. It is a curse and also their greatest blessing. Humans are tough, yes, but others can surpass them in resilience. They are clever, but some species are wiser. What innately sets humans apart is their perseverance. If you tear down the palace of a Tianshe, stripping them of wealth and power, they will crumble, never to be seen again. A human though... They will return. And they will demand much more than what was stolen. They have an immutable and utterly immortal soul. I, Carolino Swane, vote against the Third Decree. A human dashed past an alley, dragging a young man behind him as they hid from the shadowy figures in the dark. Blood stained their steps, and the light grew, consuming the countless who once inhabited this place. Dante kept quiet despite the danger surrounding him and his small group at every turn. Steadily, they ventured toward the Starsinger at the dock. They edged toward the Starsinger at the landlocked pier. The journey from the prison had taken half an hour, but they could see their destination ahead. The towering structure held hundreds of starships at once, reaching toward the sky. However, it was no longer the marvel it once was. Although the Lightsea had grounded itself just six hours ago, it already irrevocably altered the planet. Gore dripped from the roof of the hangar, and Dante placed a hand over Pythagoras¡¯ eyes. Sonna scoffed, finding his gesture pointless. She couldn¡¯t tell if he was being genuine or manipulative, but either way, she preferred having his genius on their side. Dante ignored her, sticking close to the building walls. The presence of the Dirge nearby had diminshed through their journey. Dante didn¡¯t understand where they had gone, so he kept up his alertness. Without any apparent threats, they moved a bit quicker, finally reaching the building opposite the hangar. Dante stared up at the structure. The roof was open for ships, but Dante knew the others couldn¡¯t manage the climb. The sole option was to enter from the front. While uncertain about underground passages, time didn¡¯t allow for investigation. So, the man dug his heels into the alleyway they lived in. He surveyed the area with his eyes, noticing an open street devoid of danger. The extent and duration of such, however, remained uncertain. ¡°We¡¯re not seriously running that, are we? What happened to staying in the darkness?¡± Sonna said to the human with a hiss while the boy nodded. A vertical finger went to Dante¡¯s lip, and the human shook his head. Then he pointed at the door slightly ajar across the multi-lane street. Sonna cursed under her breath, stretching her limbs. Despite her unhappiness, the Weren woman understood her purpose in being there. Dante didn¡¯t trust her, or more specifically, he didn¡¯t trust her Qualae. She still didn¡¯t believe she had one, though. She had felt nothing different, but Sonna had to believe the expert. At least, she believed the Martian was an expert. She¡¯d never heard of one with gray hair, after all. Not that she¡¯d met one before. The strands concealed his age, and his experience. And that terrified her. As the woman¡¯s focus narrowed to the doorway, not even feigning jealousy for Archimedes, whom Dante tossed onto his back, she thought back to all the mighty figures she had met while with standing behind Irys Lisera. She¡¯d seen dozens of Judges, thousands of merited soldiers, and even one Praetor. There was one common feature. None were old. Most with power died young. Those few who lived¡­ they lived long, however. The Praetor she met was the oldest of them all, but that was because they ascended from Judgehood early for their strength. The credits used to buy his allegiance were worth tens of planets out on the Wings. Yearly. Lucius terrified Sonna, so she stuck closer to Dante. While the human brought horror to her veins, she knew a brutal truth. As long as she did not betray him, Dante would protect her. And he would do so to his death. She knew this because she had read his file to her ¡®owner¡¯ before their mission to sabotage the delivery and bring out the horrors within, and it was very clear in one aspect. Dante never betrayed a crewmember, no matter how many times he was screwed over by past friends or lovers. Loyalty was his greatest weakness, on top of his pride. That was why they used him for Qualae transportation, she supposed. They knew he would trust his crew and not ask any more questions than required. Suddenly, Sonna¡¯s eyes opened to their maximum as she realized she was already on the other end of the street, inches from Dante as the human set down Archimedes. Her eyes swept behind her, scouring the road for danger, only to find none. Was it really that easy? I zoned out and everything!? I guess... it kept out the fear, though... Despite wanting to slap herself, the Weren refrained and stayed present. She stepped through the already-opened door behind her companions, wondering aloud, ¡°Where are they all? This is fishy.¡± A pair of eyes scattered their lights across the street for a twelfth time, nodding as Dante found nothing watching of them. He rolled his hand forward, deeper into the building as the darkness beckoned them onward, ¡°Yes, it is. Astraeus must be planning something. I don¡¯t know, but our goal here is escape, not war. We don¡¯t know how to use our powers. We cannot, and will not, play the Judge¡¯s game.¡± API¡¯s eyes widened at the hushed conversation between the two adults, and he had a question for himself as they all strode down the empty hallway inside the Starport. Disregarding the need to lower his voice, Archimedes asked, ¡°Why not?¡± So many are hurt or hiding. Shouldn¡¯t we help?¡± The adults¡¯ footsteps halted as Isaac¡¯s voice echoed along the impenetrable passage. Goosebumps crept up Dante¡¯s spine, and the human knew something was wrong. No bodies. No blood. And no crashed ships. The quick observations entered his mind as it began turning. Without bodies, he surmised that whatever lurked here was clever enough to hide its prey. Not a single corpse decayed in the hallway, yet they passed a dozen closed doors. Whatever spawned here must be able to kill without drawing blood. Dante¡¯s brain went to one thing first before the others.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Mental attacks. No crashed starships outside or inside suggested that nobody reached their ships during the blackout. In contrast, however, there were no Dirge in the general vicinity. Dante¡¯s knowledge of Qualae was limited, but he understood animals and men. If an apex predator had its nest nearby, then the prey wouldn¡¯t approach. These theories spun in a fraction of a second, a definitive conclusion only made several feet into the Starport after collecting crucial information. The human caught the petite Weren¡¯s hand in the air as she went to hold Archimedes¡¯ mouth shut. Dante knew Arch hated to be touched on his skin. The boy would scream if she did, worsening the situation. This place couldn¡¯t have an Anathema. It wouldn¡¯t make sense. If a Dirge could bring more of its same rank through an incomplete Domain, it would have annihilated this city hours ago. Moreover, the galaxy would have already been consumed. It couldn¡¯t be an Anarchy or an Anaphage either, though. That meant it was the next one up. An Anachronism. Dante recalled the name, the last of the Qualae that he knew of, and he stood frozen. His eyes begged the other two to stay silent, nearly praying that the monster hadn¡¯t heard them before. And as the seconds passed, the echo no longer in the air, a slow exhale of relief came from the three. Even the young boy understood his error, courtesy of his intelligence. For all his smarts... he is so dumb about other things. Like a machine. Perfect for one task, awful for others. But that¡¯s alright. He¡¯ll grow. Dante¡¯s outlook on Archimedes was positive, swayed by how much he needed the boy. Sonna¡¯s view, however, was hostile, and she glowered at the boy who came close to exposing their position. In response, Pythagoras hid behind Dante, the frail and scrawny form doing so without effort. Dante brought the two closer, ensuring that his voice was so low that it could not be heard past his arm, he whispered, ¡°No noise. There is something here. We cannot fight it. But... I think we can sneak past it. It¡¯s worth a shot. Either that, or we resign ourselves to fighting Astraeus.¡± Despite her fear of death and much worse, the Weren nodded deeply. She never wanted to see that monster again, while Archimedes stood confused. They told the boy much, but he did not comprehend the foe that was on this planet. However, Sonna¡¯s agreement was enough. Archimedes would follow him because the boy trusted him. Perhaps he abused that trust, but Dante didn¡¯t believe so. And so, the human crept forward, step by step, with the other two behind him. The hallway before then was long, and even with Dante¡¯s augments to his eyes, he could not see in utter darkness. The end of the corridor, once filled with paper trails and desks that one would have stopped at, sat silent. Doors lined the side, rooms where one would set up deals for how long the ship would be in stay or to rent a starship, but all of them were closed, leaving behind an oppressive silence. It was as if, behind each door, an unimaginable terror reigned. Sonna shivered with each footfall forward, and Archimedes bawled his eyes out. Nonetheless, they followed their allegedly fearless leader. The former cursed Dante, while the latter prayed to the human in his mind. However, as Dante passed a random door, the glass that acted as a window revealed the inside to him. And it came close to breaking him. The lights were all off, the usual hum of technology absent, for the Lightsea¡¯s presence had rendered all electronics useless. Yet, despite the pervasive darkness, Dante¡¯s eyes could pierce through the gloom, drawn by a faint, uncanny glow emanating from the room beyond. Inside, the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. Tens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof glowing green sacks lined the room, each one pulsing and undulating with some unknown, rhythmic breath. The sacks were semi-transparent, just enough for Dante to make out the figures trapped within. Humanoid figures. His stomach churned, and he recoiled in an instant, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He had seen plenty of fucked up fauna before, but this was something else. The sight was grotesque beyond his memories; the figures inside the sacks distorted in some nightmarish gestation. Dante¡¯s mind raced, the horrifying implications sinking in. These weren¡¯t just bodies¡ªthey were being kept alive for a purpose he didn¡¯t dare to imagine. They were food. Or wombs. The two possibilities entered his mind despite his wishes, reminding him of his shakes. With the scene burned into his retina, he reached for the vial of Nullify in his pocket, longing for the familiar numbness that would calm his spiraling thoughts. But his fingers found nothing. The human had left it on the ship, not possessing the foresight to know that his first plan would have gone so awry. After all, how was he to know that Rejo was harboring an Anathema? Dante forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. The other two glanced up at him in bewilderment, but he needed this moment. The image of those glowing sacks burned into his mind, a guarantee of the horrors the Lightsea had unleashed. The squirming insides hinted at a looming threat, with an approaching terror. And that they would not stop. Something shifted in the human¡¯s mind. He was na?ve to think he could gather a crew and sail into the center of the galaxy. And for what? So he could investigate his father¡¯s death? Or was it revenge for his brother? What about making a name for himself? Maybe it was to prevent him from starving near to death again. Perhaps¡­ it was a meager effort to eradicate that eternal loneliness he felt? No matter the reason, none of it mattered compared to these... abominations. It is one thing to kill something. It is another to do... that... The Weren and the mechanic tapped at Dante¡¯s legs, rushing him to do something, anything at this moment. Their fear was palpable, and it spread to Dante. He prided himself on his analytical thinking, calm mind, and logical decisions. Right here, though... the emotions swirled. And, as usual, they rose far beyond what he could handle. The man wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. He wanted to destroy all those sacs and free those within, even if they were already dead. But he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t. Hands ascended and tensed his ruffled collar before he turned around. Then, without uttering a single word, the man backed out of the building. The other two followed, as mum as imaginable. Nothing harried or attacked them the whole while, and the moment Dante left the Starport, his eyes rose to the skies above the darkness that shrouded the sun. His ears replayed the sound of screaming people, the Anaphages or Anarchies finding them in their homes. Some of those noises were old. Others were new. The deaths had since slowed, as many had watched precautionary videos in case of such attacks. Families had panic shelters, weapons in the home, etc. Those that were ill-prepared were already gone. Those were the majority, and still, more would still die. A conservative estimate would say two-thirds of the city was dead already. Dante thought he didn¡¯t care. Truly. He didn¡¯t. He had only ever cared for those close to him. So, that was why he couldn¡¯t understand his repulsion. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, Dante. You don¡¯t care for those wretches in there. You just don¡¯t want that happening to those you left behind,¡± Judas¡¯ cackling laughter superseded the noise inside Dante¡¯s mind. Eyes shifted to Judas, the unknown being standing with his back against a streetlight. Dante did not answer, the depths of the human refusing to meet his own evil. ¡°Oh? You won¡¯t be honest with them? Even me? You were going to just leave. With you three, even if the starship didn¡¯t work, you¡¯d sneak out until you exited the bounds of the Lightsea. Isn¡¯t that right? You, Dante, are worse than me. I would at least kill them myself instead of leaving them as prey for such... varmints,¡± the words of Judas brought Dante¡¯s emotions to a boiling point, and he struggled to control them any further. He wanted to deny it; he wanted to say that he never planned such things, but he couldn¡¯t. After all, it was a blatant lie that the others had to remain behind. The truth was that Dante could only escape the city with the two beside him, the small and stealthy ones. It was impossible to navigate the city unheard with a group any larger. If they had to fight their way through, then they would never escape. More and more would just keep coming until Dante and his crew died. But why? Why had he made this choice? Dante wasn¡¯t sure why he chose this over any other option. The betrayal on the Starsinger had stung more deeply than expected. The two who were closest to him, Joan and Rejo, he had to push away. Because if they betrayed him, what would he do? How much more would he break? Judas inched toward the human while his companions panicked over his bizarre silence. They grabbed at his arms, but he was too stable, immobile to their feeble strengths. The figure seemed to gain height under the cover of night as he leaned down. With that grown shadow, Judas pleaded to Dante, ¡°Come on, Dante. Just admit it. You are evil. Betray Rejo? Man... he believes in you so much! Joan, I kind of understand, but really? Didn¡¯t you see the look on her face? She was SO excited to join you! To her... it must have been everything she was waiting for! A scene to display her brilliance! Her inventions! We¡¯ve been through this before! And you wanted to leave them all to die!¡± ¡°Rule one. Never leave a crewmate behind,¡± Dante¡¯s voice cut through the terrible sickness in his mind, leaving Judas in complete disarray. First, Dante spoke aloud, and then he spoke only within. ¡°I have never said I am a good man. Good men do not need rules. If I am to do this... to go all the way... To rise into the ranks of the Legates, Gravitors, and Endless, to see all that I wish to, and to become all that I must, then I need to do it right. If I play it the way I have in the past... they¡¯ll kill me and leave my corpse to rot with no legacy or history.¡± A firm smile rested on Judas¡¯ face before vanishing into the dormant pieces of Dante¡¯s mind. Its approval only made him more concerned about his future. Still, Dante hated he had wavered on leaving people behind twice in one day. That was not right. That was not him. It was Judas, or whatever this thing was, tampering with him. He needed to set rules. And not pass them. He could exploit, cheat, and betray others, but not these people. Why? He did not know why for most of them. For the Araki, it was clear. Rejo had proven his trust with his own blood. As for the others¡­ Perhaps they were in the right place at the right time. Perhaps it was the Lightsea fucking with the man some more. Regardless of the circumstances, Dante became determined. The lengthened smile was the last thing Dante saw of the departing figure. After it did so, the human came to with a woman whisper-shouting into his ear, ¡°What are you talking about, Dante? We¡¯re in the middle of the street! And I hear something within the Starport clattering! Come on! What are we doing!?¡± Dante shook his head, dismissing her concerns, and moved on to what he believed was a more pressing matter, ¡°We won¡¯t make it to the ship. Not with what I saw in that room. We only have one option as a group. And that is to help Claudius. We three could sneak out of the city to the barrens and let Arch tinker until we escape, but the rest would die.¡± Sonna waved her hands wildly in front of the two, incapable of believing Dante¡¯s words, ¡°Are you serious? You? Don¡¯t want to leave them behind? Come on! Let¡¯s just go! You know the routes, right? Take us. Please?¡± A hand delved into Dante¡¯s pocket and retrieved a slim device. It was the only working piece of electricity on the planet, built to transmit signals over short distances, even through the muck that was the Lightsea. The light from the device was unnatural to Dante¡¯s eyes, and there was only one contact on the phone. Claudius Vermillion. The human dialed the number while taking steps back toward the prison. He wouldn¡¯t abandon Joan or shatter Rejo¡¯s faith, nor would he dismiss such an opportunity for strength. It was a gamble, and yet, to Dante, everything had been since he set foot on his first starship. The thing was, one had to calculate the odds and only bid when the time was right. Dante had nothing to lose. He was already going crazy; some daemon in his mind was pulling him every which way with some chaotic agenda. Dante didn¡¯t even know if Judas was real. It could just be some parasite in his head. If the man was real, then that was worse. A figure more terrifying than Astraeus could appear at any time. Such woes were not the end of the line, however. Dante¡¯s family died long ago, and the only ¡®friend¡¯ he had left may be insane as well. His head would soon get a massive bounty now that Claudius knew him. Oppositely, though, he had everything to gain. Power. Fame. Fortune. It was all possible; just beyond his fingertips, he could taste it. Did he want all three? No. No, he didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t even want power; he just needed it as a means. What he truly desired... Was to find his father, and figure out why he never returned. Why did he choose to do those things to Dante? Why did he sell him? That was the grandest reason of them all, beyond the desire for life, liberty, or happiness. The man wanted to hit his father just one time for what he had done. After several long seconds, the line clicked into tune, a firm voice on the other end speaking aloud, ¡°Oh, hold on! I got a call! Eight, leave the Martian alone! Hello, Dante. I was hoping you would call soon. I believe you already know where I am.¡± 16 - False Requiem Contracts, Contracts, Contracts. The foolish sign them with enthusiasm; the wise dot them with reluctance. What¡¯s the difference? There is none. They all choose wrongly in the end. One should only forge Lightless Pacts after strict and careful consideration. They cannot be revoked. They cannot be tiptoed. They cannot be crossed. Few bear the write to wield the pen. Fewer ever get the chance to write a second time. Should the Lightsea lend an ear, speak as though it is a deal which will take your greatest love. A tanned boot crashed against the concrete as Dante ran, one person clutching onto his back. He wished they could move faster, but he knew it was futile. After his sighs, he leaped over the stone wall and slinked into the propped open door of the prison with the two behind him. When they departed last, they used a pipe to hold heavy glass. Dante set Archimedes down, as the boy loathed the close contact, and rounded the corner into the ruined prison¡¯s main room. The upper floors lay open before him, revealing a tense standoff. Atop a cracked steel slab sat Lucius, with his spear in one hand, staring down a young man in an immaculate suit. The man¡¯s race was hard to discern, not quite Tianshe but not quite human, yet his head twisted entirely around to meet Dante¡¯s gaze. ¡°Oh! Hello! You must be Dante. It¡¯s... a nuisance to meet you,¡± he said, clapping loudly, much to Dante and Sonna¡¯s confusion. ¡°So, is this everyone? You and the little ones behind you?¡± Dante glanced at his hastily formed crew, going from Rejo to Sonna, then Joan and even Lucius, all while hovering a hand over Archimedes. Claudius emerged from a side door, snapping his communicator shut. While he disregarded the uncanny young man, the Judge nodded at Dante, ¡°Good, this is everyone. Eight. Not the worst for a Vector-4. Now, let¡¯s move.¡± Despite raised eyebrows, no one disobeyed Claudius. The young man in the suit gracefully hopped off his steel chair and silently followed his Judge, setting the pace for the others. As they made their way out, Rejo leaned toward Dante, whispering, ¡°No ¡®uck with the ship?¡± Dante shook his head, meeting Rejo¡¯s hopeful gaze. He had to be honest, even if it meant shattering Rejo¡¯s dreams with his bluntness, ¡°No. We¡¯re in this for the long haul. If you can¡¯t awaken your Qualae, we¡¯re as good as dead. Stay focused.¡± Rejo nodded solemnly. Dante¡¯s decision to stay was final. He couldn¡¯t leave Rejo behind, nor could he leave Archimedes. Berudgingly, he also acknowledged Sonna as part of that equation now at this point. Joan, too. They were bound, for better or worse. If he was going to survive, he needed a solid crew¡ªand he couldn¡¯t afford to play by his old rules anymore. Money couldn¡¯t be the measure of loyalty. He needed those who would follow him into Hell on the slim chance that he, and only he, could deliver them their highest wishes. When they reached the main street, Claudius turned to face them, arms spread wide. In the distance, monstrous figures climbed skyscrapers, smashing through windows or diving into glass structures. The Judge addressed them, as if blind to the disaster, ¡°Vector-4s, or Anathemas, differ from the lower tiers. They don¡¯t kill mindlessly. They have a purpose¡ªa directive¡ªand follow a higher power. The Anarchies are strategically placed, with the Anachronisms stationed at vital points. Astraeus is up to something big here. Any insights, Eight?¡± Dante¡¯s eyes locked onto the suspicious figure, a briefcase somehow appearing in his hands out of nothingness. Dante could swear he felt a subtle breeze in the back of his mind, but he didn¡¯t know what it was. Nonetheless, this ¡®Eight¡¯ held some information for everyone. He clambered upon a broken-down car, kicking it for what appeared to be fun, before glancing around at the nighttime. It was silent beyond the echoing crumbling glass and the surrounding breathing. He smirked, an unsettling glint in his eyes manifesting before he spoke, ¡°Anathema are like captains among the Dirge. If they¡¯re here, it means they want a bridgehead. They¡¯ve set bait to anchor their presence. For what? Who knows?¡± Eight¡¯s gaze landed on Rejo, who shifted uncomfortably. By pointing a finger, he ratified Dante¡¯s fears, ¡°You. I sense my same affinity. Astraeus used you as a pawn, exploiting your fear and affinity to get here. Someone higher up orchestrated this.¡± The suited young man exposed his unexpected experience, taking the spotlight away from the Judge himself. Dante watched the exchange, withholding his own suspicions. Somehow, Eight already knew more than he should. ¡°Considering that... Yes. One of ¡®Them¡¯ was around here, right? Any known stars go dark? Any recent Sectors stop echoing?¡± Eight¡¯s question targeted Claudius, and the Judge didn¡¯t wait to answer. Still, Claudius looked troubled by the question and gestured westward as he said, ¡°We lost contact with the Reikshi Sector. I was heading there to assist a Praetor and some Judges. It looks like they¡¯re setting up a Juncture here, too.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Eight confirmed with a curt nod. ¡°They¡¯ll nest in the most populated areas. To them, negative emotions are a feast. Astraeus will establish his bridgehead in the centermost position.¡± Dante¡¯s question came out piping hot, his frustration spilling over, ¡°Why the city center? What¡¯s the connection to the population?¡± With scarcely bent knees, the young man hopped off the car¡¯s roof, laughing aloud and giving Dante and those behind him a jeer. His mocking gestures were impossible to miss, ¡°Really, Claudius? These four? At least the Martian has some experience. Do you even think, Dante? Figure it out. Or don¡¯t. Just keep up and try not to die.¡± Teeth gnashed in Dante¡¯s jaws as Rejo joined him, somehow understanding the young man perfectly, despite the many words relayed to them all. The Araki¡¯s wrath swooned in place of his ally¡¯s while Dante clamped down on his own emotions. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. It was as if one lever had flipped on and the other clamped shut. Tranquil now, Dante observed the back of Claudius, Eight, and the third, who never introduced himself while walking alongside... his crew. One of them he doesn¡¯t trust, another he doesn¡¯t like, the third he can¡¯t lose, the fourth a requirement for his success, and the fifth a phantom from his past. Lucius, Sonna, Rejo, Archimedes, and Joan. Their smiles vanished, but Sonna and Rejo boasted the most crestfallen faces. The former wished she were off-planet, sipping martinis, while the latter craved putting a bullet in Eight¡¯s head. The first was known from her complaints, and the second was visible to the naked eye. Dante¡¯s mind, however, was segmented away from the emotions and the fear that clouded it before. Slowly, he was settling back into this feeling, the premonition of the end. It had been a while since he was at death¡¯s courthouse, just waiting for her to call his name with the gavel. With his brain ticking to its limit, he floated into his mind, reflecting deeply about the situation. Once he did, the answer unveiled itself. Population. The Lightsea feeds on negative emotions. The more the merrier, right? Is that how Astraeus plans to construct it? What is our job here, though? Stop it? Kill him? ¡°Alright, Eight,¡± Dante demanded, his voice cutting through the tension as he was tired of Eight¡¯s attitude, ¡°What¡¯s the plan? We can¡¯t just walk in and hope to survive. Give us something tangible.¡± The noise rebounded above as a Dirge made itself known, falling from above toward the group. Before it came anywhere near them all, however, a tug emerged in Dante¡¯s senses. And an instant later, the Anomaly was high in the air. Eight swung his briefcase, slamming it into the Anaphage with a spike of ice before it careened back into the building, cascading glass below. In a blink, he was back at Dante¡¯s side, unruffled. On his tiptoes, visibly annoyed at having to rise too high, he patted Dante on the shoulder with that same foul attitude, ¡°Of course, lad, we will not fight them all. We just need to get Astraeus to lose concentration on his incomplete Domain. If we could break it, that¡¯d be even better since they can¡¯t produce it more than once a day. Once that¡¯s done, our Judge here will make a call. In less than five minutes, we should have dozens of Judges and a Centurion or two. Maybe we¡¯ll even be so lucky as to receive a Praetor¡¯s upturned nose! Oh, wouldn¡¯t that be great, Claudius?¡± No one answered the presumptuous boy¡¯s monologue, but his strength was clear to see, as the Anaphage didn¡¯t move anymore. One hit. That is all it took. From Claudius to Lucius, the surprise was not short-lived. While the others¡¯ concerns focused with his power, Dante¡¯s mind lingered on the future of all those Judges and Centurions. His self-assurance led him to believe that Claudius wouldn¡¯t double-cross him after they went through with this, but... the others... Dante remained quiet as he walked, stuck in his mind. Eight wouldn¡¯t hesitate to turn him in, nor would those that arrive later. Yet, Eight wasn¡¯t done. He glanced up at the human alongside him, finding something to latch onto. Dante internally groaned before Eight even spoke, ¡°Hoh! Is there something you don¡¯t like about that plan, human? Wouldn¡¯t all those authority figures just dive on you?¡± the mechanical face of Eight leaned in closer, far too close for comfort, as he continued, ¡°Rip you limb from limb? Probably. You don¡¯t have many other options. Suck it up, buttercup. The only way you could have won was not to play. But you broke the table and glued our feet to the floor. Now we have to play blackjack with splinters.¡± Dante stifled a sigh, choosing silence over a pointless argument. Eight fished for a rebuttal, twisting his head back and forth, but Dante didn¡¯t care. He shut out the ignorant boy. As he returned to the rear, Claudius spoke again, ¡°The water treatment plant is the likeliest spot for the Juncture due to it being exactly central and the only building large enough for it in the vicinity. We¡¯re half a mile from it. We¡¯ll split into two teams.¡± Dante and Rejo shared a knowing glance before Claudius suddenly drew his Executioner and pointed it directly at Rejo¡¯s mouth tendrils. His partner, the Harenlar, split four knives out and held them along Joan¡¯s throat. The two criminals believed they knew what was happening, but they were unaware of Claudius¡¯ resolve. They thought they would simply be sacrificial pawns. Unbeknownst to them, the Judge saw himself as a pawn, too, destined to perish. As such, Dante reacted without his typical swiftness, only lifting his gun a moment later while Lucius backpedaled, holding Arch behind him. Eight with his whistling blond hair, on the far end of the group, stared into the distance, silently grasping his hands behind his back. Veins grew upon Dante¡¯s forehead as he shouted at the Judge in fury, ¡°What are you doing? Aren¡¯t we supposed to work together!?!¡± Claudius looked resigned but firm. He hated the choice he had to make, but he felt better knowing they were criminals. Still, his words did not depart his lungs easily, ¡°This is working together. They need to awaken their Qualae. Now. Or they die. We can¡¯t carry dead weight. Joan is a doctor, Lucius is a Martian, and the boy is a mechanic. You two hold nothing. Astraeus will obliterate you. Here and now. Either you die, or you unlock that darkness within the lights of your eyes.¡± The Judge¡¯s palms were sweaty, his finger locked around the trigger of his gun. It was clear he didn¡¯t wish to kill them. Nevertheless, Claudius knew that the most decisive choices were the toughest. They were criminals anyway. This method of brute-forcing one¡¯s connection to the Lightsea rarely worked. But when it did... It was a wonder. Claudius would know. His grandfather¡¯s prot¨¦g¨¦ was the one who did this to him, after all. Sonna, too terrified to move, howled for help at the top of her lungs, ¡°Dante! Stop him! I don¡¯t know how to control this shit!¡± Meanwhile, Rejo stared Dante down, the Araki ready to die should the human say so. They didn¡¯t exchange any words, but Dante knew exactly what his friend meant. Because that¡¯s what they had always been, even if Dante refused to accept it until now. Dante couldn¡¯t fight back. If he did, Rejo would die anyway. He could only close his eyes with a curse, ¡°You bastards. I¡¯m sorry, Sonna. Rejo...¡± Dante didn¡¯t stop there, however, and, opening the blue pupils within, he glared right back at Seafarers, ¡°You got this. Just find it. Find the Lightsea.¡± A shout came from afar as Eight delivered them all a warning, ¡°We¡¯ve got some curious ones from their yelling! More will be coming! I¡¯ll handle what I can!¡± The mysterious lad evaporated into thin air, only to have his briefcase embed an eight-legged monstrosity into the concrete, wherein it ceased movement from growing icicles across its joints. Claudius¡¯ hands tightened around the gun, his eyes telling Qain to prepare himself. He began a countdown, ¡°You have until those Qualae overwhelm Anomaly Eight-Eight-Eight to shed away your pasts. Everything you have been until now is meaningless. You are one of the few blessed and cursed by the evils in the universe to possess power. Yet, it is a case of wrong place and wrong time, as with most of our kind, only yours is far shittier than mine.¡± Sonna¡¯s hand reached out to Rejo, and the Araki took it begrudgingly as he respected Dante¡¯s decision. The two clasped together tighter, aware that their deaths were just moments away. Dozens of Anaphages and two Anarchies surged toward Eight, the latter proven by their more streamlined forms, less blob and waste, and more function. The Anomaly proved his strength while the visible timer ticked away. Quickly, Eight reached his limits. Eight¡¯s mightiness, perhaps equal to the Judge, was evident, but with more and more opponents closing in, his movement, which was his strongest asset, faced heavy restrictions. Without a Domain Collapse to extend one¡¯s power, numbers could strike down even the greatest power. Quantity boasts its own genre of quality. It was nearly impossible to damage an entire continent, let alone a planet in absence of such supreme techniques. Fortune smiled on Claudius with strange lips, for Astraeus did not possess a true Domain, instead such were home to the next step in Dirge in virtually every case. A sigh broke out among the crowd as Lucius strode past them all, lifting a hatchet from Rejo¡¯s belt. He held no mystical strength, far from demolishing a city, yet he stood up nonetheless. The soldier stole a gun from Qain¡¯s holster, the Harenlar too preoccupied to stop him. Regardless of their surroundings, Claudius focused wholly on the two before him, hopeful for their prolonged existence as he spoke, ¡°Delve deep. Find it. Because if you don¡¯t... You will die. I am sorry. I don¡¯t wish for this, but we already taking care of one useless in a fight. We cannot have two more.¡± Rejo¡¯s eyes closed with those comments, his mind coming to terms with his death. Beneath his lidded, accepting gaze, however, a brewing madness emerged. The man was not the kind to die without a gambit, though he would follow orders. In counterbalance, Sonna pleaded for her life, well aware that she was not capable of Claudius¡¯ demands. Her pleas boasted not a noise in Rejo¡¯s raging calm. He grew up on a farm. A peaceful one. Tractors, corn, and cows. The Roman dream, one would say. However, he hated it. He hated it so much. The quiet winters, the buzzing summers, and the constant peace. The young Rejo merely wanted excitement and adrenaline, and for that, his kin ostracized him. On his sixteenth birthday, over ten years ago, Rejo ran away, joining the first mercenary company he could. He went from company to company, planet to planet, Sector to Sector, never finding a good place where he fit in. He still hadn¡¯t. But what he uncovered was a man that he believed was worth following. To him, Dante was a liar, a cheat, and a schemer, but that was perfect for the Araki. Rejo despised such things, but he recognized their necessity. So... He left them to his friend to worry about. All Dante had to do was point, and Rejo would wrap his hands around any gun. And more than that... Dante held the secrets of the world to Rejo. Only Dante could deliver him to the providence he sought, not that Rejo knew what that was. The Araki faced ostracism for more than just his peculiar ambitions. Truth was, he had never been quite right in the head. A whisper to himself, a bizarre phrase, or a false memory were not unheard of for him to share. Rejo¡¯s left hand ascended to the barrel of the gun planted against his forehead while the other released Sonna¡¯s sweaty palm. He then retrieved the pocket-watch Dante gave him on his last birthday, glancing down at the memory of the singular one they shared on the Starsinger. Air filled his lungs. He had lived a life. Worth living? He wasn¡¯t sure. Regardless, he held faith in his captain. ¡°Do it!¡± Rejo exhaled, carrying little hope for his survival, and yet he asked for his death. The more time he wasted, the more likely Dante would get hurt. And for his sole friend in the whole vast galaxy, Rejo simply smiled. The red-skinned Araki knew Dante would save him. Somehow. It was a ridiculous thought for anyone else. An observer would have called the Araki insane, and they¡¯d be accurate. Regardless of the truth, Rejo felt what he felt. Even if Dante didn¡¯t feel the same kinship, that was fine with Rejo. Few had treated him with kindness, yet the human did. Repeatedly. They shared beers. Long nights wasting away in the Skull. Early mornings still playing Liar¡¯s Dice. The little things won his loyalty. Few could understand Rejo¡¯s resolve because of his cheap translator and foreign language, but Claudius nodded his head in understanding. Without another word, a single digit closed around the trigger, and sparks ignited as Rejo¡¯s life flashed before his eyes. 17 - A Lone Sail’s Wisdom Never strike a deal with the Lightsea. She will take, take, and take some more. She¡¯ll grant temporary strength, or even grand vestiges, but they will not be entirely yours. Every person I¡¯ve ever met that has made one, other than myself, has died shortly after. The sheer difficulty is reason enough. She is a fickle, picky mistress. But if your back is against a wall¡­ and you have no other choice¡­ The abyss holds many opportunities if your blood is delectable. Just be prepared to trade your heart and a bright future. Just as I did. Rejo had spent twenty-six years moving among the stars, drifting in and out of worlds. But now, he¡¯d found something¡ªthough he didn¡¯t know what it was. His eyes, once vivid and multicolored, now saw only monochrome. And... the surrounding figures weren¡¯t moving. A chill ran down his spine as his mind flickered with panic. He hadn¡¯t felt such fear since the day Dante and he entered the Skull, and that... thing appeared. In the monochrome world, a shadow shifted at the edge of his vision. However, Rejo couldn¡¯t move. He felt a claw scraping along his neck, and a voice whispered into his ear, soft and menacing, ¡°I. See. You. Why don¡¯t you run along now? You were lucky I was in a forgiving mood when I emerged. I could be the same now. Help me, and I¡¯ll save you.¡± Astraeus. He was here. At least, his mind was. That was the only conclusion Rejo could come to. It made sense, too. The Dirge was the creature inside him, after all, far beyond him in power. Though it wasn¡¯t the origin of his power. He could sense that much. The Dirge was only a parasite that had hopped onto him through some measure. Despite their split, Astraeus held a connection with the Araki through space, forged between their shared affinities. Yet Rejo, despite his terror, wasn¡¯t one to cower before a monster. He wouldn¡¯t betray Dante. As Rejo struggled to move, his face quivered, and he slurred out a defiant, ¡°G¡¯ck yu¡¯elf.¡± Astraeus sighed, long and drawn out, before the world returned to color. As the hues flooded back, Rejo saw the spark of a gun, the flash that would end his life. The light burned into his pupils, pivoting his life into what may very well be eternal darkness. But... he lived. The light faded in his eyes, allowing him to see. Then, a Judge¡¯s voice filled his ears as a screeching shard of metal slammed into a distant wall and a watch crashed to the ground in front of Rejo, ¡°One out of two. Better than expected. Welcome aboard, Rejo. A spatial Stigmata. Likely a Cryo, too, like Eight. How odd that there are three of you on this planet counting the ''Thema...¡± Rejo¡¯s chest heaved up and down endlessly as he brought his hands back to the forefront of his focus. Raised to hover beneath his eyes, they were familiar, utterly unchanged, but he felt something bubbling beneath the surface as they trembled maddeningly. Nothing made sense. Astraeus didn¡¯t save him. He didn¡¯t get lucky either, though. What happened? Dante wrapped an arm around him, grinning with rare pride, ¡°Good job, Rejo! I knew you had it in you! We¡¯re good now, right, Claudius?¡± Dante¡¯s acknowledgment left Rejo stunned. Dante was never that nice. Yet... it settled within Rejo¡¯s mind, and the Araki¡¯s fists tightened painfully. As it did, he felt his Stigmata. The knowledge of it flowed into his mind from the brief usage. Those clenched fists realized they could mark an object each, allowing for instant transposition between the two marks. It was a complicated Stigmata, far more than most would believe Rejo capable of using, but he smiled. The ¡®Mojo¡¯, as Rejo swiftly named it, would allow him to help Dante. It was a perfect mix of support and attack. In seconds, the Araki¡¯s thoughts switched to how he could use it in a fight or make his captain proud. Meanwhile, the Judge glanced at Dante before his eyes switched to the two warriors, one flipping blades of freezing azure and the other with a hatchet. The former teleported all over the place as the latter merely breached through his enemies with raw force. The hours spent resting recovered the Martian¡¯s stamina and strength to a great degree. By seeing their battle, Claudius¡¯ earlier decision cemented in its place. He turned his gun on Sonna with a misguided confidence, ¡°Rejo¡¯s made it, yes, but we can¡¯t protect her. Ending her here would be a mercy.¡± Both Rejo and Dante shook their heads, refusing to accept this, ¡°No. I¡¯ll protect her myself,¡± Dante insisted. Claudius sighed through his nose, his gaze cold but hiding a deep sorrow, ¡°You don¡¯t understand. This is mercy.¡± A gunshot punctuated the final syllable, but it never reached its destination as Rejo¡¯s hand pointed upward, delivering the projectile into the reaches of the atmosphere. The Judge¡¯s surprise was apparent, but he relented, his expression souring with each word, ¡°Fine. She¡¯s your responsibility. But you¡¯ll leave her if needed. And¡ªRejo¡ªnice Stigmata. Few are as useful in combat.¡± Claudius strode right toward the Dirge after, the Lightsea swooning from his core. Finally, Rejo could feel it, too, as weaves of water materialized around the Judge, whipping a hound-like fiend away from him into the concrete. Another one protected him from a spindly bullet from a needled creature. After witnessing his ¡®leader¡¯ rush in, Qain followed suit, steam wafting from his body as he accelerated out of Rejo¡¯s visual range. Dante could barely keep him in his sight, but he learned then and there the gap between him and the actually trained Seafarers. They could manipulate the Lightsea, not just pull from it. The human peered down at his palms, attempting to conjure something, anything, and all that happened was his skin glitching out in his sight as if endeavoring to jaunt in time. Worse, it made him feel sick to his stomach. Why did his Stigmata always feel so wrong? Dante had no idea, but now was not the time for questions. With Claudius and Qain on board, the battle ended promptly. The former killed more than half of the monsters with his wicked liquid constructs, and the latter did quite a number, too, his sheer speed showing to Dante and his group that even the quiet one was not to be underestimated. Once several dozen corpses lined the road, Eight stood at the forefront beside Lucius, the young man utterly untouched and without a hint of sweat. The Martian, however, exhaled with pain, a dribble of azure leaking from his side.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Dante nodded to Joan, letting the doctor take action. She listened to him primarily, as per the deal they struck. Still, she wasn¡¯t against throwing prices at him, ¡°I¡¯ll just add it to your tab, then, Dante.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± he replied, moving to the front to confront Eight. ¡°So, you nearly kill two of my crew for what? To draw out the Dirge and reveal our location?¡± The briefcase in Eight¡¯s hand wobbled as he shifted to face the human, ever the annoyed prick. By angling his head towards the taller man, Eight might as well have spit in his face with his comment, ¡°Man, you¡¯re quick on the uptake. I can teleport. Easier with myself, but not impossible with more. Partially why we needed to lower our numbers, but whatever. I¡¯ll manage. Guess I¡¯ll just be low on oil.¡± Dante¡¯s pride shivered, vibrating with rage as his hands clenched seamlessly into fists, but he held himself back. Instead, he extended his palm, piecing together the plan. The Anomaly would teleport them further into the city. Everything here was just a diversion to throw off the Dirge. Astraeus couldn¡¯t expect it since he couldn¡¯t know Eight¡¯s abilities as the young man was that, an Anomaly. The young man squinted at Dante¡¯s offering before shrugging and taking it squarely. Icicles grew from their connection as Eight smiled sharply, ¡°I think I like you. Here¡¯s a hint toward using the ¡®Sea, newbie. Ice is violence. Water is adaptable. Steam is intangible. Go for one, and you¡¯ll do great. The others are a little more unorthodox, and in my opinion, lesser.¡± He gave a firm pat on Dante¡¯s shoulder that followed only stoked his ire more, but he appreciated the advice, seeing as Claudius hadn¡¯t done shit to help. ¡°All around! Touch one another! I need skin contact for my Stigmata!¡± Eight shouted beside Dante¡¯s ear. His volume gathered everyone together quickly, barring Archimedes. The slim teen wobbled on the fringe of the group, hating such close quarters. Dante looked out to help, but Claudius had a solution ahead of time. Water streamed from his fingertips and graced Arch¡¯s shoulder. Dante thanked the Judge with his eyes before the world went colorless. ¡°Alright! Gather your britches, gentlewomen! We¡¯re taking a quick voyage into the Lightsea! And! Do. Not. Open. Your. Eyes.¡± Eight¡¯s voice echoed into the night as every single person flinched at his words. Dante attempted to pull away from Eight, but the Seafarer knew better. An icy dagger held itself to the human¡¯s throat, disavowing his movement away, ¡°Motherfucker. If you had¡ª¡± Dante began, his voice low and filled with fury, but he never got to finish. Before he could protest, they plunged into the Lightsea, where reality twisted and warped. Dante felt the familiar disorientation, a detachment from his body as they drifted through the void. It slid into his bones and veins, almost as if a worm was slipping through him. Every inch of his insides shivered in the unnatural sensation while goosebumps formed across his flesh. He felt this same thing before when initiating that jump on the Starsinger, but this was... different. This time, it felt different¡ªcontrolled, as if directed by an expert hand. Dante¡¯s attention circled back to Eight, the young man navigating the Lightsea with unnerving confidence. Everyone had their eyes shut tight, obeying Eight¡¯s command without question, but Dante held other thoughts. How could he know so much? He¡¯s at most, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen if he¡¯s lucky. Could be even younger if he¡¯s some weird hybrid. Maybe older, though. Hmm... Dante couldn¡¯t shake the gnawing feeling that something was awry with Eight. No one that young should possess such a deep understanding of the Lightsea¡ªor the ability to navigate it effortlessly. As far as he knew, even Judges were trained by the decade, not the year. To him, this was impossible, yet Claudius didn¡¯t treat it as abnormal. He just went with the flow. Dante¡¯s thoughts spiraled as he weighed the possibilities. Eight could be a Breathing-Metal, one of those outlawed abominations crafted from the twisted technology and the hopeful yet corrupt intentions of his forefathers. Something about his mannerisms and odd face brought such a thought to his mind. Back in the old millennium, humans did whatever they could for power, and it often bit them in the ass. Breathing-Metals were one such thing, but... They didn¡¯t exist anymore. They couldn¡¯t. Those machines were renowned for their vast knowledge and inhuman precision, as well as their ability to manipulate the Lightsea, though it was not without a price. The legendary machines from humanity¡¯s past also possessed an inevitable descent into madness without a soul to anchor them. Still, to Dante, despite the unlikeliness, his mind tugged toward that answer. Perhaps Eight was something far worse¡ªa monster of the Lightsea itself, a creature born from the very chaos that they now traversed. If that were true, then Dante couldn¡¯t even begin to fathom the threat he posed, allying with natives and living among them. But as much as Dante¡¯s mind raced, he couldn¡¯t find an answer. Eight remained an enigma, a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit. Then there was the Lightsea itself, brushing against Dante¡¯s consciousness in ways he had never felt before. He remembered Eight¡¯s advice to control the Lightsea¡¯s water. Hydro, it was called. He had mentioned Hydro was adaptable. Dante quite liked the idea of such a thing. Tentatively, Dante reached out with his mind, attempting to grasp the essence of simple water within the Lightsea. And, of course, he kept his eyes closed tight. For a brief, fleeting moment, he felt it¡ªsomething wet, something fluid, almost tangible, brushing against his skin. A thrill of excitement surged through him. Then the sensation vanished as he hit cold concrete, shocking him out of his state. While shaking his buzzing head, Dante pushed himself from the floor of... The water treatment plant. Pipes ran along the ceiling and all across the walls, making the space near zero for movement. Rejo landed right beside the human, and he coughed up some phlegm while cursing their luck, ¡°Fuck, I miss ¡®hen we did our own bounties. You are a far ¡®etter captain than these pricks.¡± The back of a fist bonked the Araki upside his head, and a briefcase sat beside him, too. Eight kneeled to stare into Rejo¡¯s eyes. ¡°You. I don¡¯t like you. Too stupid to think for yourself, but just smart enough to know when to stop swinging. Typical ice. Can¡¯t believe we¡¯ll share the same essence,¡± Eight hissed out derision with a scowl. Then, without striking the man, Eight stood back up and cracked his young back as if he were an old man. Dante placed a steadying hand on Rejo¡¯s shoulder, pulling him back from his bubbling fury. Joan hovered nearby, syringe in hand, ¡°I could calm him down if you like,¡± she offered, but Dante declined. He instead followed after Eight, noting that Claudius and Qain had already vanished into the pipeline. Lucius hauled Archimedes to his feet, and the group hurriedly steered along the pipeline, all in an effort to catch up. Besides Sonna. She stood still, scared to her bones, as she realized how far out of her depth she truly was. Her previous lies were nothing compared to the current situation. The others ran ahead, slowly shrinking in her vision before one stopped. A human eye flickered backward, falling right upon the young woman. Dante hesitated, opening his mouth and raising his arm, but he lowered it with a weighty exhale. He didn¡¯t say a word, but his azure eye told it all. ¡°You won¡¯t get a second chance. I did what I could. Sorry. There is only so far I can go for someone who won''t save themselves.¡± Sonna¡¯s breath hitched, and she struggled to breathe, even worse than when Qain¡¯s blade was against her throat. The anxiety broke her, shattering the persona she had been failing to hold together. She wanted to be strong, fearless, and not... that scared girl who was told to do everything with no input of her own. But... she didn¡¯t know what to do. If she stood still, she¡¯d die. If she ran ahead, she¡¯d die. She didn¡¯t believe herself capable of surviving. The woman stumbled forward and caught herself on a pipe, cutting open her hand. Not that she noticed. Her head then smacked roughly against the cool pipe as her brain spiraled into pure panic. As her skull shook, she remembered the vial in her pocket. The one she swiped from Dante¡¯s desk. Nullify. She remembered how dangerous the drug was. How easy it was to grow addicted to it. And... she recalled how it was used for psych-ward patients. The woman kept it in case she would need it to deal with Dante, but now... she edged it toward her flesh. Yet she halted the needle, falling into thought. Dante... he needs this, doesn¡¯t he? If I take it... will he be okay? No. Why should I care? He¡¯s a lying asshole. He¡¯d leave us all for dead at the first chance. But... he didn¡¯t. Sonna tore at her hair, indecisive and losing her sanity with every passing second. She was doomed to die here, on this planet. Her life had only been extended a scarce few days from the woman she was meant to die instead of. Fuck! I don¡¯t want to be so... helpless! Her mind collapsed in on itself, and the Weren sank to the chilly concrete in agony. Her brains still rang about in her skull, but she forced herself to focus. With stabilizing eyes, she retrieved the revolver that Dante had handed her just hours ago. She hadn¡¯t used it yet. She didn¡¯t know how, but she wasn¡¯t stupid. After turning it about, she pointed the barrel at her face. Inside, there was a dark tunnel, an endless vein of approaching death. Sonna stared into it, wishing that she didn¡¯t have to die, that she could live freely without having to cower beneath another. She didn¡¯t want to be a slave. Yet... she didn¡¯t know how. Tears dripped from her face as she recalled the scene moments before. How they threatened her life and Rejo¡¯s. With such a thought in mind, Sonna¡¯s fingers wrapped around the trigger. She squeezed the trigger but couldn¡¯t do it, her fingers too weak, too afraid. The fear of the monsters tearing her apart and the cold bullet fell into a stalemate. Her mistress was right. ¡°Worthless cretin. All you can do is take a bullet or stand in for me while I¡¯m busy. Go stand. For four hours in the corner.¡± The words rebounded within her mind, again and again, filling it like a matrix until they came out of her mouth subconsciously. ¡°Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless.¡± Sonna repeated the words so many times that they lost their meaning, and she drifted off, the heightened emotions and non-stop action tiring her to an extreme. The woman slumped over, her body falling toward the ground, but at the very last second, her hand caught herself. She stared at the petite hand that held her aloft. The trim veins pumped blood back toward her heart and the bones that were hidden beneath. Beneath it all, she saw a network, a web of working systems and immaculate architecture. Sure, it could be better, as all biology could, but it was seamless. The blood in her hand flowed along just as the thoughts in her mind did. Slowly, she calmed. Her mind beat alongside the streaming blood, the anxiety slowing down to idle chatter as she closed her fist, and a mist came from within it¡ªnot steam as she had overheard Eight mention. It was mist with a tiny pale rock hidden inside it that quickly turned to more whiteness. Sonna stared down at the haze that evaporated into nothingness, in awe of what she had done. In the brief moment that it existed, it devoured the air around, delivering minute amounts of energy to the woman. Her heart sped up, and she clambered to her feet as she finally felt it, the line that connected her to the sea beyond reality. I... I did it. I¡¯m... not... worthless! She had done it. Furthermore, it was before Dante or Rejo. She had conjured her Tide. Sonna looked around herself, expecting upraised eyes and some praise just as Rejo received. When she searched around, she found herself alone. The others were gone, and her triumph faded into the bitter silence. There was only the endless passageway to comfort her. Her shoulders sagged, and the chill siphoned away much of her joy. With a sharp sigh, she trod down the path, hoping to catch up with the others. 18 - The Frayed Jolly Spells Doom ¡°I heard a heartbeat in the ship,¡± a porter rambled, pressing a hand against his chest as his own thundered within. His coworker replied with a tsk while leaning against the wall of their store, ¡°You must be on something. The Centurion¡¯s starship is just expensive tech. I heard Michel say it can withstand the Lightsea. Get a grip before the boss hears! We can¡¯t afford any slip-ups here.¡± Two figures slipped through the twisted corridors of the overrun water treatment plant. The younger of the two, brimming with energy yet more seasoned, led the way, making sure they remained unseen. The place teemed with Dirge, their twisted forms barely visible as they lurked in the shadows. Luckily, they weren¡¯t particularly perceptive; Dirge were best at sensing dimensional disturbances. With that awareness, the two men avoided tapping into their powers too much. This choice slowed them to a great degree, however. The plant was a decaying maze of pipes and metal walkways, each slant threatening to throw them off course. They needed to ascend, which would have been easy if Claudius could leap with a rush of his Tide and reach the next flood. Instead, they had to move glacially, creeping around the edges and searching for ways to climb. In this labyrinth, a wrong turn could land them in the jaws of the enemy, so caution was paramount. Nevertheless, Claudius moved with the assurance of someone who¡¯d done this countless times. His sharp eyes scanned each shadow and flicker, reading the environment as if it were a book, predicting where the Dirge might lurk. His hand rested on the hilt of his Executioner, always ready with its soothing touch. The faint beat of the organ within that made it Domain-resistant calmed him, making his movements fluid, almost casual. Qain, in contrast, was quieter and more deliberate. He stepped where Claudius stepped, mimicking his partner¡¯s silence, though Claudius could sense the tension in his muscles. This was a different battle than Qain was used to¡ªone where their own lives hung in the balance. Claudius knew he needed to help steady Qain¡¯s nerves. As they crawled under a tangle of exposed pipes, he glanced back, murmuring in a low voice, ¡°You¡¯re doing well. Remember, it¡¯s not about being invisible. It¡¯s about being where they¡¯re not looking. The weaker ones can¡¯t see much, anyway.¡± The Harenlar nodded, absorbing the advice. He let a thin layer of steam curl around him, a cloak that softened his outline and made him harder to spot in the flickering light. His tension eased a bit as he moved with more confidence. Where water was adaptable, and ice was brutal, steam¡¯s unique quality was that it left only the faintest trace, allowing Qain to use his powers with little risk. It sped him up and softened his footsteps, keeping him in stride with Claudius. They slipped into a narrow service tunnel, seldom wide enough to walk side by side, forcing them to move at a diagonal. The air was thick with the stench of rust and damp metal. Beneath these, Claudius could taste the faint bitterness of blood. He knew that everyone here was already dead. The knowledge weighed on him, darkening his mood further. As they moved, Qain broke the silence, speaking hesitantly, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever done something¡­ this good. It¡¯s terrifying, but it feels like a chance to do something worthwhile. To help.¡± The Harenlar admitted his own shortcomings with a hushed confession. However, the honesty brought a smile to Claudius¡¯ face. The Judge glanced over, feeling as though Qain wasn¡¯t so bad. If things went well here, he didn¡¯t mind having Qain as his first Juror. Claudius chuckled gently, the sound almost startling in the quiet. ¡°You get used to the fear,¡± he replied, his tone light, almost teasing. ¡°It¡¯s part of the Lightsea. We see things no one should, but it¡¯s worse for Judges. We face things most people don¡¯t even know exist.¡± Qain tilted his head, considering, ¡°Was it always like this for you? The training, I mean.¡± Claudius pondered the question as they reached a junction, peering down both paths before choosing the one on the left. Then, he answered, ¡°Pretty much. Grandson of Praetor and all, even if long dead. Since I was a kid, they trained me every day. It¡¯s not just about fighting or tracking Qualae. This is my first actual assignment. I didn¡¯t expect it to be this intense. Still, it¡¯s the job, and I¡¯ll do what I can.¡± Qain absorbed the weight of Claudius¡¯ words while they persevered down the tunnel. He could sense the underlying fire, tempered by years of training, that fueled Claudius¡¯ calm demeanor. Qain found himself opening up more, the maze around them serving as a confessional of sorts. ¡°I got into this because of a dirty deal,¡± Qain said in a wavering tone. ¡°A¡ªAwakened my Stigmata when an Anarchy showed up a few years ago. My girlfriend... she was killed right in my arms. Her blood... changed me. I didn¡¯t even know she was one of us... I¡­ didn¡¯t know so much¡­¡± Claudius nodded with understanding, ¡°Chaos has a way of shaping us. Some aren¡¯t willing to bear it, though. Thus, they hide. She must have been a Hidden. However, not all Hidden are weak or cowardly. Maybe she was tired. For us Judges, it¡¯s part of the early ceremonies to weed us out. You¡¯re here now, and that¡¯s what counts.¡± Qain¡¯s eyes narrowed in determination as he found something to focus on besides his past. He didn¡¯t want to be a junkie anymore. His voice proved that with its resolve, ¡°That¡¯s right. I... Maybe this is my chance to set things right.¡± The Harenlar¡¯s four hands rubbed against each other, and for a moment, he even considered returning to his family. Perhaps he could stand proud before them. Though that was all for later. They reached a rusted staircase spiraling upward, each step groaning under their weight. Claudius led the way, flashing a reassuring grin back at Qain as he said, ¡°We¡¯ll make it. Just keep that steam flowing. When the time comes, we¡¯ll be ready.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Qain offered a small, tenacious smile as he followed the man. His eyes sparkled when looking at Claudius¡¯ back. As a child, he always held the Judges aloft in his mind, and now he ultimately met one. Not just that. He got to help one. The thought steadied him as they climbed, shoulders squaring as he cast off his earlier anxieties. While guilt rose, so did the man. He believed himself pulled by fate into a righteous path. At the top, Claudius turned, curiosity clear in his voice, ¡°What¡¯s your Stigmata? I¡¯ve let you keep it hidden so far, but I need to know now.¡± Qain glanced down, his hands gripping his knives, his other pair of arms helping him stay balanced. Once more, he spoke with integrity, ¡°I can duplicate objects. Nothing too complex¡ªknives are easy, but phones are out of the question.¡± Claudius¡¯ head bobbed as the two fell silent. Since the budding engineer already received it, duplicating the phone would be impossible, anyway. He couldn¡¯t fight without a Stigmata or control over the Lightsea, so at least he could call the instant the line became available. Above them, a noise clattered, and they flattened themselves against the floor, inching forward. The Judge¡¯s mind raced as he considered how to use Qain¡¯s Stigmata to their advantage. At times like these, he wished his gift was more combative. The price of his Stigmata was too costly to use without a dire reason. As he oft did, the man theorized about others¡¯ strengths. That Rejo sure is lucky. Eight, too. It is easy to weaponize any kind of teleportation. It¡¯s rare enough that I bet Rejo¡¯s comes from Astraeus¡¯ meddling. Dante¡¯s healing was also uncommon. I wonder what the limit is, though? What wounds go too far? I bet I find out today. His thoughts swiftly deviated, but they plunged back into the frame of mind needed for his situation. Claudius wasn¡¯t one to groan or complain about his situation. He would much rather do something about it. While continuing ahead, Claudius found what Qain could do to help. After all, the Judge didn¡¯t have all that much ammo, and he doubted the human did either. So, he slid Qain a single bullet, the intention unmissable. Bullets, namely those of low calibers, wouldn¡¯t do much to the Anathema. Between his Frigo that he hardly wielded during their first scuffle or his distorting Stigmata, Astraeus had a dozen ways to protect his already dense flesh. While blind to the reality of the ask, the Harenlar took it with a free hand and hid the palm within the bowels of his bent-over stomach and the film of steam. In a moment, two bullets returned themselves to Claudius, who pocketed them with a grateful nod. Then, noise emerged below them, and the two halted immediately, their hands still connected. Widened eyes listened to the lone pair of footsteps below them on metal. It was quiet, almost impossible to hear, and they were both thanking their stars they hadn¡¯t spoken since the staircase. Despite its attempt to be inaudible, the noise was there. They were ready. ************************ Dante slid down against a wall, tiredly resting on the floor of the small ¡°cave¡± Eight had led them to. Here, they could catch their breath. Relax. Rest. Enjoy what might be the remainder of their lives. Rejo and Archimedes collapsed as soon as they arrived, both too exhausted to stay upright. Lucius slumped opposite Dante, his eyes heavy. He was the first to sleep, taking rest wherever he could. It was a trait all soldiers knew well past a certain point. Rejo and Arch soon followed, drained after hours of tension and flight. They needed to sleep, even if only for an hour or two. Joan watched them with a scoff before injecting herself with a white fluid, falling asleep almost instantly. Dante had always found it odd the way she relied on her drugs, but he supposed it wasn¡¯t much different from his own reliance on deception. Only Dante and Eight remained awake. A mere moment after they were alone, the young man in the suit sneered at him, ¡°So, you just left her behind after saying you¡¯d handle it?¡± Eight found the human beyond hypocritical and wasn¡¯t afraid to call him out on it. Dante didn¡¯t rise to the bait. He hadn¡¯t ¡°just left her behind.¡± He knew Sonna would return. She had the fire to survive, and though she acted timid, he knew better. Beneath the surface, she was a fighter, just like him. Sonna craved freedom, power, and life more than anyone could imagine. It was more than Dante could imagine. He knew when he saw another with a boundless desire. For him, it was his search for his father. For her, it was freedom. No matter what, she¡¯d find her way back. The Weren simply needed a chance to show her resolve to the world. How could she be worthless? She was in the Federation Of Flesh, daughter to a mighty figure. There was no way for her to be as weak as she often led on. As he shook his head, Dante listened closely, discerning a distant pair of footsteps through his augmented eardrums. A warm smile and tone met Eight¡¯s cynical gaze, ¡°She¡¯s coming back. If she were as useless as you all thought, I¡¯d have left her ass aboard.¡± Sonna was valuable, even if the others couldn¡¯t see it. She had talent, and though she lacked physical prowess, she could be trained. And finally, despite her lack of courage, Weren could think for herself. Dante valued such a trait above all else as it gave him many options to work with in a battle. When the petite woman lumbered through, following the markers he¡¯d left, Dante greeted her with a nod, ¡°Good job. Sit and rest for a while. Eight will wake everyone when it¡¯s time.¡± She raised an eyebrow, her skepticism as clear as usual, as she asked, ¡°I thought we were in a hurry. Shouldn¡¯t we keep moving?¡± ¡°We need Claudius in position. Besides, you¡¯re all exhausted. An entire night of running yourselves into the ground. Sleep for an hour; you¡¯ll fight better. I bought us some time with my Stigmata,¡± Eight leaped back into the conversation with adolescent legs waving back and forth from his seated position atop a pipe. Sonna eventually nodded and settled into a corner, her exhaustion evident. A faint mist rose from her hands, catching Eight¡¯s attention. He whipped his head around, eyeing her with alarm, ¡°Hey! Stop that! Perceptive Dirge can sense that stuff, and you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing. Still... the devouring cloud, Arido, huh? Rare one. Heh, she figured it out before you, Dante.¡± Dante¡¯s eyes were saucers as he studied the salt-like fleck of ice forming in Sonna¡¯s hand. The mist blurred his vision while he stared at it, and his mind began piecing together the effects. It took an essence from him, leaving his breath weightless as it crept along his flesh. Not quite ice like Eight¡¯s daggers, but not quite steam, either¡ªa mix, maybe? Hmm... Devouring mist. Perhaps Eight¡¯s words weren¡¯t just an odd phrasing. He mentally began to map out his knowledge of the Lightsea¡¯s powers. It wasn¡¯t just about tapping into it; these powers seemed to emerge from within. It was only the spark, the flint, that the Lightsea acted as most times, allowing the Tides to form. Stigmata, however, seemed to be entirely personal. They came from within. No matter how uncomfortable it was for Dante to use, he never felt that the Lightsea owned the transaction. So, his mind dived deeper into the waves of the dimension. The elements must exist in some kind of circle. Water, Steam, and Ice are the focal. If ¡®mist¡¯ is there, then it must be the combination of Ice and Steam. Then... Snow must be Water and Ice. Water and Steam... is just Humidity. Stigmata exist beyond this system, innate to the person who awakened. Each of his thoughts was on the nose, rediscovering the attributes of the Lightsea, just as his forefathers had. Hydro, Thermo, and Cryo were the common trio, borne by the majority of the awakened. Frigo, Miro, and Arido were the rarer triplets, less common, but still seen here or there. What he didn¡¯t think of was the outliers, however. All rules had exceptions. All life had that which was unnatural. Still, his mind carried a concern, as if all that he knew was not all there was. He left room for more growth in his mind, not setting anything in stone. Dante¡¯s musings came to a pause as Sonna drifted off, accepting Eight¡¯s advice as gospel. After her eyes closed and snoring began, the young man snickered at him, ¡°If you can¡¯t figure it out, don¡¯t sweat it. I don¡¯t expect you to, anyway. With an incomplete Domain grounding the Lightsea, it¡¯s harder. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised she managed. Quite the talent. Not as good as me, but still decent.¡± Dante hoisted one side of his lips, vindicated despite Eight¡¯s attitude. Sonna was talented. More so than him, that was for damn sure. What did that mean for the human? It meant he would have to catch up with effort and guts. As he always did. While watching her sleep, his mind went back to the hallucination he had of her eyes during their earlier walk. It wholly arrested his movement, forcing him to a halt. For a full second, he couldn¡¯t move his arms, legs, or eyes. The energy that had seized his body from him was her Stigmata, further proof of her talent. In contrast to his joy at her potential, the supernatural ability sent a shiver down his spine and forced him to redouble his efforts, forging past the respite he so desperately needed. Humans were persistent to a fault; everyone knew that. Although Dante flailed purposelessly against his own mind, Eight watched and truly realized that they were more than just stubborn for stubbornness¡¯s sake. This one actually seemed to be genuine. As such, he extended an olive branch toward the human, one of the people he possessed guileless contempt for. After all, if it were not for their old empire, Eight wouldn¡¯t have to be alive and suffering in the first place. Not that Eight truly knew where he came from or who he was. Memories did not come quickly to the boy. Only violence did. After a short internal laugh, he slid down from his spot and relocated closer to Dante, annoyed all the way as the words left his mouth, ¡°Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m helping your idiotic brain. No. You¡¯re doing it wrong. Breathe in. And now...¡± 19 - Pale Tide’s Kiss In a panic, a young boy whispered to his elder brother, ¡°I heard something out there!¡± The older sibling tightened the grip on his brother¡¯s shoulder. With his eyes clamped shut, he pulled the smaller boy closer to his chest beneath the table they were hiding under. In a hushed tone, he demanded, ¡°Shut it. Dad¡¯s not coming back. Not for a while. We can¡¯t let them know we¡¯re here.¡± While his eyes strangled tears, snot continued to drip down the younger one¡¯s nose. The older brother¡¯s gaze softened, but the instant he thought the other would notice, it hardened. He couldn¡¯t be weak. They never allowed him to be free. Should he be, there would be consequences. There always were. Moments after Claudius and Qain reached their ambushing point, a light beep resounded within Archimedes¡¯ lap. Startled by the sudden noise, the young boy woke up and released a cry, but Eight¡¯s palm silenced him with force. The experienced warrior, who had seen a hundred battles without shaving cream, glanced at the phone that Arch was holding and nodded in agreement. The boy struggled under his grasp, and the older teen released him, shrugging as he turned to another body. With a tap on Lucius¡¯ shoulder as the soldier flinched to the touch, Eight exclaimed and retreated, ¡°Wake up¡ªwoah, there! I thought only I had PTSD. Ok. Umm... Good. Wake the other three up. It¡¯s time.¡± Lucius gave Eight a menacing glare, his pupils shifting color to match the twilight inside the building. The Martian growled out a rebuttal, following orders, ¡°I don¡¯t have PTSD, runt. Say that again, and I¡¯ll tear your damned head off.¡± Eight responded by fluttering away and raising his hands, as if surrendering. Many doubted his willingness to surrender, but he did so without effort. The Anomaly relocated next to Dante as Joan, Rejo, and Sonna woke up from their short, yet essential, naps with a delayed grogginess. With his boredom tainted by that same prideful arrogance as always, the young man posed a question, crouching beside his ¡®pupil,¡¯ ¡°What are your plans after this? If you survive, of course. Hard to believe they¡¯d let a human like you go free. Too many free radicals, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Dunno. I¡¯ll have to play it by ear, I suppose. Hopefully, I will get my ship back, and I will continue toward the Heart. Finally, I can see the Empires I¡¯ve longed for. Some other stuff, too¡­ That is if I figure this shit out,¡± Dante glanced up at Eight, annoyed at his lack of progress at conjuring water. Eight effortlessly glided on ice, while Claudius embodied water and Qain controlled steam like an expert. Eight nodded his head with resolution, bobbing it up and down before finding something of fake appeal and jabbing a thumb toward Dante, ¡°Right. Right. Right. See the Heart? The center of the galaxy? Well, good luck with that. They¡¯re not too strict with the Third out here, but deeper in... You¡¯ll be a wanted man. They¡¯ll all come after you. Judges. Centurions. Maybe even a Praetor. I don¡¯t think a Legate would care, but... The point stands. And that¡¯s just the Romans. Glaniece and Ostacean would desire your head, too.¡± The human sighed, sitting up, as piecemeal as he could, returning the inquisition toward the Seafarer who had guided him for the past hour. As he noticed the young man¡¯s collar missing metal lines, Dante spoke while expressing faux interest, ¡°And you? What will you do? Anomalies are similar, aren¡¯t they? Will they allow you to walk?¡± Dante inquired with the slim hope that he could get Eight to join him, knowing that the young man, while split by mystery and danger, would be a massive asset. His knowledge alone is above that of his entire crew, but his strength... It might not be far from Claudius¡¯ Judge-status. Unfortunately for Dante, a wicked grin met him as Eight spun around, grabbing Sonna by the arm and pulling her with him. Eight¡¯s words started off with his usual playful cadence, but then took a violent turn as he threatened Dante, saying, ¡°See... Only if they know I am one. I refuse to return to a cage. Never. I¡¯d like to have some fun before this body of mine croaks. If you or any of your ¡®friends¡¯ get in my way, I will cut you down. So, you best be amiable, yes?¡± The sleepy Weren stood next to the wondrous smile that lingered across Eight¡¯s lips. There were no weapons drawn or motes of the Lightsea accessed, but Dante could feel the threat. Lucius glanced over, but no one else noticed the danger posed to them all at this moment, not even the hostage in question. Sonna rubbed her eyes and then inquired, ¡°I¡¯m nice,¡± asking her own question. ¡°Wait, what are we talking about?¡± The whites of her eyes enlarged toward Dante, and the man bobbed his head in agreement, holding out his hand to seal it. ¡°Yes. We¡¯re all friends here, and friends work together. But you don¡¯t have to worry about me, Eight. It¡¯s Claudius and Qain that would spoil this for you,¡± Dante and Eight¡¯s hands clasped together, the two sharing a similar grin as they arrived at an understanding. With Sonna now released from a shove, Eight hurried with a sudden gusto towards the exit of their temporary hidden abode. Then, he spoke in an ominous yet promising manner, ¡°Hmm, hmm. I have them covered. Let¡¯s get outta here. It¡¯s giving me the creeps.¡± Next, the young man vanished into thin air, entering the Lightsea and reemerging in an instant. When he finally did, everyone had finished preparing. They drew their weapons, peeled their eyes, and pumped their hearts to their limits. He didn¡¯t have to say anything. The rest knew. It was time.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Some had trembling hands, the metal inside making a noisy rattle, while others stood daring. Although they boasted a smaller count of two, they stood tall and proud. Just as Dante stepped ahead to lead the group alongside Eight, the phantom in his head reappeared. The identical copy of Dante¡¯s little brother, before his eyes, shifted into a distinct form as he stood there, into that of Dante himself. They would be exact copies if not for the lack of a scar on Judas¡¯ face and the absence of the more minor remnants of injuries littered across Dante¡¯s flesh. While passing by, the human, beyond bewildered, chose to just listen. ¡°I see you¡¯ve grown. A little. No drugs this time? Surprising. I thought you needed those little toys to keep up,¡± Judas hissed out, his back against a pipe, and yet Dante didn¡¯t give him any morsel of attention. He was convinced Judas did this for attention. Instead of halting, the man continued, crawling over and under the pipes carefully while following Eight. Predictably to Dante, Judas abhorred this lack of attention. ¡°Nothing? You want no more hints? Nothing? Things here are not as they appear. You¡¯re missing something. I hope you find it before it¡¯s too late. Now, get to brainstorming.¡± Judas chuckled aloud as he spoke, the echoing laughter floating in Dante¡¯s head while the group landed upon a mesh steel floor. Ahead, the steel floor fed into elevated bridges overtop a water-filled room, the basin hundreds of feet wide and long. This was the sedimentation bin, as the sign nearby read to Dante¡¯s eyes, now caught in paranoia. Beneath was where particles settled out of the water, and yet, Dante¡¯s eyes did not focus downward. Nor were anyone else¡¯s. They were all transferred to one lone figure. Resting on the neon railing was a peaceful humanoid creature, its skin ebony and adorned with flowing lines of frigid water. With the noise of shoes against metal, however, it sat up, with violet eyes meeting the group of seven. As the Anathema stood up, a casual swagger carrying him to his feet, the gathering crowd felt a chill while Archimedes fell to his knees. Dante found comfort in the creature¡¯s rising astonishment, a welcome sight for his weary eyes. ¡°You all again... with some fresh faces. Run along. I¡¯m unsure how you navigated through the bastards I left behind, but turn around. Now. This is the only chance I¡¯ll give you,¡± Astraeus¡¯ spoke, its face warped beneath its mask born of the Lightsea, and the warbling and wicked smile etched itself across his lips. Dante opened his mouth to say something in rebuttal, but the teleporting briefcase was faster, landing right behind Astraeus, ¡°I was going to say that!¡± Shouting into the Anathema¡¯s ear, Eight hurled an icy knife toward the monster¡¯s ear. Like a marionette, Astraeus contorted his whole body, revolving to catch the knife and raising his other hand to strike at the sudden threat. But as he did so, an object flew at him, and he used his Stigmata instinctively as protection. A briefcase flew into the wave of destructive space and detonated into a shower of papers with the cackling brazenness hidden beneath it, crying out, ¡°Not my passport!¡± While still recovering from temporary blindness, another knife targeted the Anathema that it hopelessly tried to fend off. Despite its efforts, it was not precise enough as a freezing blade embedded itself in his right calf. As the ice dug deep, the papers fell to the ground to reveal a smiling young man to Astraeus. While gunfire resounded inside the open aperture, echoing off the water below and the metal above, two others rushed ahead, but Astraeus directed his mania exclusively towards Eight. With his head down, he exerted force to silence the words in his throat, while his hands spread out with danger. Droplets crawled across his skin as he tapped into the Lightsea, for the first time since awakening, with sincerity. Previously, a human injured Astraeus, but the injury healed within hours because of his regeneration against such Tideless strikes. The Anathema departed that battle, recognizing the need to prioritize his more important duty and not waste any more time or risk his life with such damage. But here. Here and now, he was playing no games. And as luck would have it, neither was Anomaly 888. Without hesitation, the two dove towards each other, the latter activating his Stigmata the moment he felt the Lightsea wavering from Astraeus¡¯ droplets. A knife sunk for Astraeus¡¯ nape from behind, yet a hand caught it before the chill touched skin. The target¡¯s neck twisted backward to face his attacker as he needed to see for his Stigmata to function, but a bullet into his temple robbed him of the opportunity. Slippery, as usual, Eight vanished into the Lightsea while Lucius ducked Dante¡¯s fireworks of lead. Roars ignited behind them as Dirge arrived to help their commander, leaving the three alone with Astraeus for the time being. Joan injected a flowing pink into her flesh as she warped into another form, the Pouncer, as she deemed it so. Her figure stretched and contorted, morphing into that of a feline creature with arms on its back and a slender tail made of spines. She jumped right at an Anaphage, stabbing and tearing it apart while Rejo blasted another¡¯s head open. Archimedes, cradling the phone for backup, hid behind Sonna, who used the gun provided to her to the best of her abilities, landing a hit here or there. The bridge they came from was thin, letting two people walk abreast at a time, and that gave them the advantage with firearms and the agile Joan, who used the edges of the catwalk to add to her lethality. The safest ones were the four in the rear, but their existence relied on the other three more than anything else. And those three were betting on the duo somewhere above to turn the tide. Although they were putting up a good fight, it couldn¡¯t continue forever. Within mere seconds of the battle beginning, the environmental damage had escalated significantly between Eight and Astraeus. The dagger wielder evaded another wave of destruction from space that wrought a hole into a stabilizing pillar. Eight acknowledged the damage, but he had limited options. Nevertheless, he didn¡¯t shirk from his duty, stealing Astraeus¡¯ attention and rage without pause, for if he did not, the others would swiftly die. ¡°Eh! Water-boy! Can you even use the Lightsea properly? Or are you just a Stigmata-nut!? Huh!? Are you like this chump here? He can¡¯t! Haha! I bet you can¡¯t¡ªfuck!¡± Eight mocked the Dirge further, proving an effective yet dangerous strategy as Astraeus, unflinching, endured Lucius¡¯ hatchet into his spine just to catch Eight off-guard. Space warped and annihilated the metal Eight had put between him and his opponent, but behind that metal was perforating snow. Bits of the manipulated Lightsea wrapped around Eight despite his evasion of the Stigmata. The young man bounced off a distant catwalk from the impact, rolling several feet before he crawled to his feet. Waves of frigid breath left Eight¡¯s jaws as he glanced down at the snow freezing his body. ¡°That¡¯s some frostbite you got there! Reminds me of my terrier! Sparkles always loved tug of war!¡± Eight laughed through the pain. Shaking off what he could with a weighty pivot, Eight Dived just in time to save Lucius from having his head removed by Astraeus¡¯ palm. A dagger landed on the Anathema¡¯s elbow, leading to a struggle between the petite figure and the Anathema, resulting in a complete miss of the Martian. Lucius nodded to Eight in thanks while Astraeus cursed bitterly, ¡°You little shit! Just fucking die!¡± Meanwhile, Dante struck Astraeus with another bullet; this time, it slid right into an eye, slinging his head backward. Then, a second and a third arrived while Lucius slammed his hatched into their opponent¡¯s thigh and kicked the back of his knee. For a moment, the human thought they could manage this, with Eight tearing Astraeus¡¯ arm back and stabbing through it with a knife while Lucius tore out the flesh of the Anathema, too. It didn¡¯t take him long to understand Claudius¡¯ motive for calling backup. Wintery embers burst forth from Astraeus, blanketing Lucius in snow and propelling Eight across the room with the velocity of a car. As Dante crouched to the ground with alarm, a few snowflakes brushed against him, instantly penetrating his body and lowering his temperature. His mind understood that this was another form of water in the Lightsea, but it was so much more potent than the rest he had seen that he struggled to reconcile it. He didn¡¯t have a choice as Lucius stumbled backward, white freckles cascading off his form. The Martian smacked his fist against his chest with a resounding boom that popped Dante¡¯s ears and knocked much of the frost off. It was now the two of them against Astraeus, for Eight was nowhere to be seen, the young man falling into the waters below. Dante spread his feet outward, providing himself with a sturdy foundation as he glared ahead at his opponent while Lucius got his shit together. With frantic determination, the human¡¯s eyes scanned for any hint of movement from Astraeus, whether watery or physical. He could feel the ocular veins bulge as he pushed himself beyond his limit, and then that was when he saw it. A twitch. The slightest bit of motion that predicated an attack. A slow smile grew on Dante¡¯s face as he recreated what he once could only do with Nervefire. With a casual pivot to the left, the human¡¯s neck twisted somewhat, and in that instant, the air split in twain, consuming the metal railing behind him. Dante¡¯s lungs heaved with bouts of agony, for the few moments of fighting consumed much of his endurance. Yet, it was not over. And so, he sucked in with his lungs, standing tall despite his fatigue, and strode forward while the surrounding violence cascaded further. 20 - Waters Of The Womb ¡°Where is my daughter!? She¡­!¡± A sweeping tsunami of snow burst outward from a middle-aged man bearing a wealth of scars, striking his hand against his weighty desk. Before the wintry Tide could reach his underling, it paused in the air, shivering. The man¡¯s fist trembled, and a singular tear dropped, melting into the snow below. While Dante and Lucius fought on, a body arced through the air like a ragdoll, flung by the immense force of Astraeus¡¯ fist cradled by the Lightsea. Eight feebly registered the world around him as he slammed into the side of a metal walkway, the impact rattling steel beams. The young man held no snarky remark or derision for the steel that crunched his bones as he was only vaguely aware of his frame creaking under pressure. He was long past getting back up. His consciousness slipped into the darkness as he tumbled into the frigid water below. The shock of the cold was like that of his knives, biting and brutal, slicing through the remnants of his awareness. Icy tendrils gripped him, dragging him down into the abyss with a relentless pull that he could not match. Motes of winter crawled up his flesh, altering his focus so the Lightsea wouldn¡¯t heed his call. Eight¡¯s body screamed in pain, every nerve alight with agony as the freezing water seeped into the broken lacerations upon his back. Each droplet of the water must have contained the malice of a thousand needles stabbing into his flesh. His limbs twitched uncontrollably, the movement more mechanical than biological, as if some hidden machinery within him was malfunctioning. Deeper, he sank, the light from above dimming from that of a star to mere moonlight as the water pressed in around him. From below, he could no longer see the battle above. His ears heard nothing but the rushing waves around him. The ice was absolute. He learned that from someone. At least, he thought so. Where... am I? His vision blurred, the edges dimming to the depths of an ocean as he plunged further into dreamland, but something within him fought to stay awake. There was an odd rhythm to his pain. It was the strange consistency in the way his body registered with each pang that told him something was off, more than just his imminent drowning. Each chill felt as though he was more of a machine enduring damage than a man in torment. Slowly, his eyes winked tight, open in a squint, the water rushing past them like shards of glass. His thoughts were sluggish and disjointed, his mind struggling to reboot from the sudden trauma. He tried to focus, to remember where he was and why he had fought with so much anguish, but the cold was making it impossible. Despite all the inconsistencies in Eight¡¯s mind, he still held one truth in his mind. That thing... I¡¯ve... seen... it before. Where? Fear crawled up his spine, ancient and primal. It tore into his organs and tendons, wrestling those eyes of his open all the way, for his soul refused to dissolve. An obsidian egg, cradled with flowing veins of blood, floated in the now still water before him, its ebony surface marred by the jagged cracks that pulsed with a life of their own. His heart¡ªor whatever facsimile of one he had, as it felt too mechanical¡ªstuttered in his chest. Just as Eight wondered what he was, his mind shattered. A torrent of memories, vivid and horrifying, slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. No. It was far worse than that. The boy glimpsed reality itself, the hidden fabrics beneath. The limitless and inexplicable crimson sent him head over heels in his own mind, losing control of his body and resigning himself to the blood. Eight witnessed untold battlefields drenched in blood and countless wars stretching across the stars. He was in each drop of blood shed, beaten with wounds that should have killed him a hundred times over. He felt the pain of each cut, of each stab, of each bullet. The young man felt his body torn apart and remade, over and over again. However, it seemed time always passed onward with each death. Within the memories, there was one static. An older man who fast grew elderly, his face blurred and impossible to be glimpsed by Eight. Beside the aging figure, however, for the twilight of his life, there was a bird perched upon his shoulder. It then grew into a great being, featherless yet leathery as it flew to guard the elder. The young man was incapable of anything but experiencing the bloodbath, unable to act. And, as if it always belonged in the memory, there was the egg¡ªcracked, wobbling atop a sea of corpses. The planet around the bleeding shell was left torn and upended, not a single city or village across the horizon. Only destruction. As Eight watched, the cracks in the egg spread, growing more expansive with each passing second, to signal more of the same. It was as if he was there. It was as if he had been there. As if he was the only one there. Alone. The young man¡¯s teeth bit into his lips beneath the water as his fists closed tightly, but it did nothing to stop the egg. Once, twice, thrice, the shell split apart, and from within, a pale, unblemished arm reached out, clawing at the air as if trying to pull itself free. The sight overlaid with his current reality, and his heartbeat doubled beneath the pressure. Eight had practically come to terms with his ending in but a moment. Ah fuck... I¡¯m dead. That¡¯s something way worse than an Juncture. I see why he left them alone at that bank, why the city was unscathed. All that mattered was his ¡®Master¡¯ woke up. They never wanted to summon more Dirge. Astraeus merely wanted to wake up the one already here. Despite his thoughts, a moment later, the vision was gone, leaving him isolated in the bleak water, his lungs burning as they filled with icy liquid. His body convulsed as he began to drown, but some deep, instinctual part of him refused to give in. With a gasp, choking on the water while also not, he swam to the surface in a panic.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The moment he broke the tension of the water, he gagged for air, but the cold water still filled his lungs, heavy and unforgiving. Still, relief filled him before he heard gunfire resound above. The young man felt his connection to the Lightsea, and without waiting for an instant, he Dived, creating a mental map of the battleground in his mind. I need to be up there. Those six will die in seconds without me if they haven¡¯t already lost their edge. Fuck. Where is Claudius? No. He¡¯s waiting for the countdown. I said I¡¯d hold him for a minute. That¡¯s about how long it¡¯d take to get rid of the suspicion of backup. In order to make Astraeus lower his guard, they had to convince him their fates were sealed. He had to believe he would kill them if only given time. Eight internally cursed his own decision-making and lack of ability as he landed back atop the metal walkways, standing right behind his new nemesis. His entire body sprawled with pain. The bones of his body didn¡¯t sit right. His own lungs refused to function properly. Everything inside him struggled to function from the single impact. He didn¡¯t know why he was here. He didn¡¯t know how. Nevertheless, those memories he felt were his, and by all the Gods in the universe, he had wished they stayed sealed. Dante ducked a strike he saw coming while Lucius reeled from getting hit, only to receive another backhand from Astraeus. Between their conflict, the Cryo drew attention in the only way he knew how. Insults. Water sputtered from Eight¡¯s mouth as his words nearly failed him, ¡°Hey¡ªsnowman! Who¡¯s your daddy downstairs? That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, right? Who is he? I bet he¡¯ll¡ª¡± As Lucius bounced across the metal catwalk, halting only at Rejo¡¯s feet, Astraeus¡¯ attention returned solely to the only threat to his life. The ants made it difficult for him to kill the teen. A wave of snow rose and then collapsed toward Eight with a crash. The others were simply a pain, taking him time to deal with, but this Cryo was a genuine threat, not to him, but to his master beneath. They weren¡¯t ready to be awakened yet, and an Anomaly as dangerous as Eight might injure the figure beneath. As such, he pulled out all the stops, seeing the boy survive one sure-kill strike. While ignoring Dante beside him, Astraeus stomped toward the boy as Eight pushed himself to his feet. The human glanced back at Lucius, pulled to his feet by Rejo. Dante couldn¡¯t help but worry whether Claudius was in position, yet an idea still came to his mind, only possible with Rejo¡¯s truthfulness to the man. He had told Dante everything he knew about his ¡®Mojo¡¯ so far. Dante pointed at his hand, shouting to Rejo, ¡°Use it on Lucius!¡± The Araki stared down at his palm, confused for a second before figuring out the message. He slapped the Martian with an intelligible wish of good luck, ¡°G¡¯d ¡®uck!¡± Rejo then turned back toward the approaching Anarchy, shooting at it with all the bullets he had remaining. Beside him, though, a petite girl found her courage while her world collapsed. It took great resolve, but she forced herself to move, and once she stood on her tip-toes and peeked around Rejo, she locked eyes with the ape-like Anarchy. A streak of lightning passed between the two of them as she said something simple under her breath, ¡°Step left.¡± The creature did precisely as ordered, spiking horrendous pain into her skull while waters rushed through her mind. Rejo¡¯s heart raced with alarm as the Anarchy casually stepped over the broken railing and plunged into the abyss below. The movement left him shocked, and his head shifting to Sonna in awe as she used her Stigmata for the first time. Lucius cared little for those fighting behind him, knowing that the Anathema mattered most. It was only a matter of time until an Anachronism showed up and killed them all, anyway. One at that level would tip the scales irreparably. After fate set its dial, he rushed to the Dirge, with Dante following shortly after. The Martian only glanced at his ally before stepping past him. The blade of a hatchet sunk into Astraeus¡¯ back for the eighth time as Eight winked into space, reappearing between Dante and Lucius to save his own hide. There, the teen¡¯s lungs wheezed with the noise of unnatural pressure, and he warned the two beside him with a flutter of words that erupted, ¡°A monster worse than this one is below in an egg. It¡¯s an undetectable means of transportation, but it takes time and energy to awaken from after. And that one below... It will end this world. We need to evacuate. Now. But that is impossible. We need¡ª¡± Eight only made it halfway through his hurried explanation before Astraeus was upon them. Snow built at their feet, slowing their movements and nearly costing Eight his life as he plunged backward, spreading his arms like an angel while a spatial rift devoured the air atop his nose. Of course, his back never touched the snow as he reappeared on the ceiling above Astraeus with a screaming howl, ¡°Now! Dante!¡± Alongside his command, Eight¡¯s foot kicked the ceiling and propelled him away from the danger before he tumbled to the walkway. The human¡¯s brows flipped into his forehead while the Anathema twisted backward, past experience teaching him not to ignore the human. But it was not Dante whom the call was meant for. Just as danger befell Dante and Lucius, the ceiling collapsed from the empowered kick, and behind the rubble, a long spear of harnessed water pierced straight toward the Anathema¡¯s throat. A lone palm reached to catch the tip, but the projectile impaled the flesh and caught itself inches from the abyssal eyes staring into the spear. Then, the water reformed as Claudius kept up the heat, swinging the back of the spear at his opponent while a tendril crept toward Astraeus¡¯ left foot. The Anathema pivoted his palms to do what he had done in their last battle, blast away all the water because it took time to conjure more, but an icy dagger sank into his back before he could. Eight proved he was the most glaring threat, even through the ruptured innards. In a fit of anger, Astraeus swung backward, hitting nothing but air as Lucius grappled the exposed limb. Then, as he applied all his strength, the Martian ripped the arm in his hands down. A figure of steam took advantage of the lowered arm. Four long, thin blades pierced through Astraeus¡¯ unguarded side, spewing snow-white ichor from the opened wound. Frigid air spilled outward as Astraeus¡¯ head twitched down to stare at Qain. Driven by fear alone, the Harenlar leaped backward, leaving his weapons behind and forcing Lucius to face the counterattack. Space warped, and fingers grasped right for the Martian to end his life, with hatred in the frosted air, ¡°Die, mutt.¡± A Judge and Anomaly dived to help, but they were too slow, too far to save him in time. Yet the disaster within space met only a spinning revolver it obliterated into nothingness. Lucius inhaled fresh air, his shoulder clasped in Rejo¡¯s hand. Silence reigned for only a moment before Astraeus howled into the air, a thunderous sound coming from above, ¡°Come, Sion! We will awaken Master, even if we shall die!¡± Emotions split between combatants through their frenzied sclera, and they all agreed on one thing. They had to fight. Now. Dante slinked backward while the others streamed ahead toward Astraeus before whatever was above arrived, and he held out a hand toward the Araki. ¡°Other hand. Split Lucius and me. I have a plan. Do it whenever you hear me clap,¡± Dante ordered plainly, trusting his fellow sailor to obey. Rejo saw the seriousness in Dante¡¯s eyes and nodded without complaint. The two shook hands before the human handed Rejo one of his revolvers, leaving the man weaponless after giving the other to Sonna previously. His stockpile of guns remained on the Starsinger, not carried off the ship. None knew what he planned. None expected him to sway the battle¡¯s results. Regardless, Dante continued. The two friends shared a look, but Dante sprinted away before Rejo could reply. After a brief sigh, the Araki turned and continued shooting the coming Dirge. Bodies had piled up to the dozen while Joan panted beside Rejo, and Sonna bled from her eyes. The doctor held most of the catwalk with her Biotics, but the injuries were piling up. Rejo knew they had little left in the tank, but he could only believe in Dante, even if the man wasn¡¯t the true decider of victory. Rejo left that honor with the Judge and the asshole. Those two were collapsing upon Astraeus with Lucius and Qain at their tails. Teleporting daggers of ice struck the Anathema repeatedly while whips of water stunned and beat him back, but their violence was still not enough to knock Astraeus¡¯ control of his Domain. For that, they needed something more, yet with much chagrin, they watched as a figure dropped from above toward them. In response to the new arrival, a command resounded throughout the basin, ¡°Lucius!¡± Dante could only believe in Rejo¡¯s Stigmata despite his few hours of possessing it. Dante delved deep into himself as he moved. The darkness of his mind hovered on Claudius¡¯ waving waters and powerful movements. While Lucius body-slammed the bulky Anachronism that fell from above, away from Astraeus, Dante hopped off the walkway. He reached his arm out and pulled. Not with his body, but with his mind, as he refused to let something as small as this get the better of him. Dante¡¯s father had told his sons that they were capable of anything they set their sights on together. It was one of the few positive things he had ever said. Now that his brother was gone, Dante carried the burden alone. He swore another oath as his mind crackled with static. Dante would not let him down. Judas, the young boy with endless joy, stood as the sole pillar of strength as Dante¡¯s world fell apart. A mocking voice resounded from the void in the room, only to the insides of Dante¡¯s skull, ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot! You can¡¯t do it!¡± Judas didn¡¯t believe in him. Dante didn¡¯t have much faith in himself, either. Nevertheless, Dante used Judas as an impetus, pushing through whatever film was blocking him from before out of pure spite. The resentment fueled him like nothing else. It was clear he had to deal with this hulking creature here and now if Claudius was ever going to get his chance. Eight¡¯s teleportation would suffer with such a gigantic monster blocking the walkways. Furthermore, the second target would overwhelm Lucius with ease. Such reason pushed him further, alongside the memories and hopes of the future. A wet sensation inundated Dante¡¯s insides, and a terrible pain burst through his skull. It trenched itself deep, beyond the consciousness, and burnt his memories. A flicker of his brother¡¯s smile overlapped with the evil in his mind as he felt his teeth creak. Then finally, something budged. A thin strand of water, swelling in thickness, stretched from Dante¡¯s arm and wrapped around the stumbling Anachronism¡¯s neck. Sion, as it was called, brought its meaty arms up to rip away the water, but Dante had already reached the limit of his summoned Tide. It felt like a rope in his hands, malleable, adaptable, and, most importantly, taut. His weight yanked Sion to the side, where Lucius saw the moment and took it, kicking the Anachronism in its knee. The monster budged a few inches from the force alone, but with the damage to the railing and the entire weight of Dante¡¯s fall onto it, the creature fell again, just as quickly as it arrived, into the water below. There, it sank into the freezing waters with a rumbling shriek, accompanying Dante in the frigid depths. 21 - Sword Without Peace Stigmata. What are they? Does anyone know? We do. They are the soul¡¯s manifestation of the Lightsea, flexing its might like a muscle. They are each unique, even amongst lineages, for only the Sagebeasts share amongst their kin. And they develop just as any other muscle would. Practice. But this begs the question, why are our Stigma what they are? That is unknown. The only guarantee is that no matter the Stigmata, it is like activating a hidden part of yourself, relieving yet tranquil. But why? Why do they fit us in perfection? The tentacle-mouthed Araki watched his only friend splash into the waters below, and he moved to help him, momentarily forgetting his emerged power. Through their biting, acidic jaws, a wolf-like Anaphage slammed Rejo to the ground, costing him the opportunity to use the Stigmata as he fought to keep the teeth off him. A claw pinned his right hand, and he could not touch the Anaphage to release Lucius from his Stigmata. Without doing so, he couldn¡¯t bring Dante up without damning the Martian. With his other hand, he fought to free himself, mere inches away from Archimedes¡¯ cowered form on the walkway. With Rejo collapsing, the line of defense deteriorated. Sonna retreated backward in a panic while Joan spilled a worrisome amount of blood from her own movement out of harm. The Pouncer glanced at herself, understanding she had little time before she bled out without tending to herself in her birth-form. Rejo felt utterly overwhelmed as the maw of the Anaphage descended upon him, causing his life to flash before his eyes. He couldn¡¯t grasp it with his other hand, too focused on pushing it away. Any minor slip-up and he¡¯d be dead. His mind struggled to think of a way to survive, and so it turned to the one he looked up to the most. What would Dante do? The thought was swift, passing by like a bolt of lightning, and the response was just as immediate. The man would sacrifice anything necessary to survive. With all the force he could manage, Rejo flung his pinned wrist and broke it, allowing his fingertips to grace the paw upon his wrist. To Rejo, Dante would never care about his own pain. He would only care about survival. A cry of pain predated the surging of the Lightsea within the Araki. Droplets fell from his flesh before he used his Stigmata. Then, a human body fell atop Rejo, sputtering water from his mouth with the sudden relocation. The two shared a glance before they both rolled to the side, evading a stomp of a humanoid Dirge. Dante moved water across his arms as if natural, a petite rope wrapping around his target¡¯s ankle. The instant it took another step toward him, the man wrenched with all his might, bringing it to the floor of the walkway. He shouted to his partner in sync, ¡°Pull Arch back! He¡¯s too close!¡± Rejo did as commanded, hauling the lad closer toward Astraeus and away from the rushing figures. There was a brief lull as the wave had paused, too many collapsed Dirge in the way. Dante stared across the gap for a second, respiring with great labor and heaving his entire form with great effort. Then he glanced back, knowing that this couldn¡¯t keep up. Eight and Claudius were exhausting Astraeus with the help of Qain and the returned Lucius, but it just wasn¡¯t enough. The damned Anathema wouldn¡¯t let up on his hold of the Lightsea. The incomplete Domain refused to falter despite the blood leaking from the figure. Dante didn¡¯t totally understand the gap in power between the grades of Dirge, but he recognized that the beatdown of the Anathema was something to behold. The Cryo and the Judge functioned together without a gap while Lucius fit in where he could, and Qain acted as the obscurer for their actions with his steam. The sight made a decision in his mind as he pulled Sonna with him and took a hard turn across one walkway, ¡°Follow me! Joan! Leap across!¡± His words echoed across the damaged aperture, and those who heard him did as he requested. Rejo threw Archimedes onto his back and hustled after Dante while Sonna found her pace. Joan stretched her long figure across the gap she found herself at, and the five were together once more. They fell into a rhythm, trusting Dante¡¯s mind in the chaotic clangor of battle. Over ten Dirge rushed after them from behind, regaining ground after stepping over their own. Dante¡¯s mind spun with a place to go, a plan to enact. Somehow, his brain landed upon the slight memory where Sonna¡¯s eyes overcame his vision, and she halted his steps. Then, it flashed to her earlier display. Dante wasn¡¯t sure if it would work, but he could only come up with this one plan as his feet slammed into the metal beneath him. It was risky. But how else could David fell Goliath? Tricks and thievery. That was the name of the game for the weak. After all, the catwalks interconnected, and eventually, someone would catch or force them to run into the battle in the center. He just needed a little time to prepare. Just a little. ¡°Do your thing to the front one, Sonna!¡± Dante rallied the Weren as his eyes stayed straight ahead, and she twisted her eyes, locking them onto the foremost figure. Mist roamed out of her pupils while the forerunner received a simple command in her mind. ¡°Trip.¡± It obeyed, falling head over heels and causing the rest behind it to suffer a similar fate. Another pile-up emerged, buying some time. Then, Dante pulled Sonna to peer into his eyes and ignore the surrounding mayhem, the group of five situated close to the ear-piercing clash of Seafarers. The grasp would be intimate if not for the words Dante had to share, ¡°I need you to use your Stigmata on Astraeus. I am well aware of what may happen. I need you to trust me. Do it. And I swear I will get you out of here.¡± Dante asked for Sonna to practically toss away her own life. The woman¡¯s head was already spinning from using the Stigmata a handful of times. Sonna knew Dante to be someone who only cared for himself. She had seen it right up close. Even heard him discuss it. The bastard damn near led her and Archimedes to a starship to escape the rest behind. And while Sonna would have liked to leave, she didn¡¯t want to leave Rejo behind. Or Joan. The Araki was bizarre, rarely understandable when he spoke, but Sonna knew him to be caring. He watched out for her. Protected her. Joan, too. The ¡®doctor¡¯ was incomprehensible and insane, but she was still trustworthy. Sonna never had anyone she could trust before, and most certainly not with her life. Before, she had always been by herself or with her slaver, the one who she would have to die in place of. Despite all the inclinations that would point to Sonna not trusting Dante, she stopped at one moment, which was the very same one that brought the most suspicion. At the Starport. Dante turned them around. She knew the human, and she was well aware he could find a way past whatever was there. After all, she just watched him take an Anachronism out of the fight that everyone else thought would have doomed them.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. But he didn¡¯t continue. He turned around back then. He placed their lives above his crooked wishes. Sonna¡¯s mind spiraled, and she hesitated, unable to decide as the Dirge regained their momentum. Dante clasped her tighter, not saying another word, just pleading with his eyes. The human, too, knew he had made mistakes. Before, he could do everything himself. People would die in a bullet or two, often a simple, neatly placed bomb. Or an elaborate trap. Not anymore. He needed help from people who trusted him. And he so desperately regretted believing otherwise. Sonna saw that lamentation on his face, the genuine emotion, and that drove her choice. She ripped away from Dante¡¯s hands and faced Astraeus, saying, ¡°I¡¯ll do it. But you better hold your promise.¡± ¡°Good. Now we¡¯re a real crew. Rejo. Replace the one that¡¯s not me with her. Joan. Get Arch to the higher floor and out of the building. Dial at the count of ten from now. You two. Run in opposite directions,¡± Dante smiled and patted Sonna on the back before darting away from the edges of the room. His footsteps quickly alerted Astraeus, who groaned in annoyance, ¡°Again? This is getting tiresome! Come! Stop running so much, and let me feed you to her!¡± The wording was a warning to Dante, but he couldn¡¯t slow down. His mind beat with agony, the strain of connecting to the Lightsea already building too much for him to handle. His water possessed little strength, nothing compared to Claudius¡¯ that could bend steel and rend flesh or Eight¡¯s ice that sliced through Astraeus¡¯ defences. Still, he dived into the battle right after Eight teleported away, taking his place once Astraeus pulled back his power. The human did something idiotic to all others. He strode right up to Astraeus, walking with a slow gait. It appeared to be an obvious bait, but Astraeus and Dante had already shared a moment in the past. The Dirge knew something about the human that no one else did. It did not possess the knowledge of the pistol Dante kept in his quarters, the single round that he spun every night before bed, debating with himself on its usage. But it knew that Dante had long wanted to die. Dante was a mix of countless hypocrisies and lies, but even so, Astraeus could not fathom what the human¡¯s aim was walking with so much bravado. Nonetheless, it batted away Lucius, breaking more of the Martian¡¯s hardy innards before swinging its elongated forearm at Dante. The Lightsea that held onto Astraeus bulged outward, decimating the air before the human through his innate will. Because of the Judge jabbing water toward the Anathema¡¯s skull, Astraeus haphazardly attacked Dante, aiming the strike only at the human¡¯s chest while protecting his own body. And that was the gamble that Dante lunged for. It is a gamble that only someone ready to meet his maker would pounce upon. All other opponents would have feinted, bluffing their advance, which is why Astraeus didn¡¯t put his all into the strike, expecting such. Yet that is not what happened. Dante never bet on his own luck. He made it. Space tore into Dante¡¯s torso, obliterating the man from between his neck and his waist. Astraeus laughed, seeing that the human was so ready to give up his life, likely in a distraction attempt. As such, he quickly turned, just to hear a voice behind him. ¡°Kaboom.¡± In horror, Astraeus flicked his eyes back, finding a reconstructed human in his place. The single word brought the Dirge¡¯s hands to protect his vital, but no bomb went off. Instead, a lithe woman replaced Dante¡¯s figure in an instant. Before the Anathema could react, his eyes met the Weren¡¯s enlarged pupils, and a command entered his mind. ¡°Sleep.¡± The single word ate into his body, filling him with drowsiness while that woman toppled over the second after, crimson sliding out of her ears, eyes, and nostrils. Astraeus fought to remain awake, but with that drowsiness, a cool blade entered his throat and graced him with a secondary mouth. In that split second, Astraeus finally lost hold of the Lightsea, his birthright, as the pain and shock overpowered his resolve. Just as the uncomfortable and near-painful use of Dante¡¯s Stigmata brought him to his knees, the Dirge fell, too. The world regained much of its color as he hit the steel panels below. Eight continued to pierce the Anathema with blades, creating more and more to sink into Astraeus¡¯ flesh, but the damned creature wouldn¡¯t die. Their vitality was too sturdy, not to mention one whose element was Frigo, as snow was the most defensively sound Tide. The entrails of Astraeus were difficult to pierce, let alone the depths. Eight didn¡¯t know why, but he didn¡¯t stop attacking it. He continued even while Claudius retreated, shouting into the air as an electronic beep resounded above from a young man¡¯s touch, ¡°This is Claudius Vermillion! Judge 001833! Designation, Tide-Seer! I am reporting a loose Anathema on Crislend! It has deployed an incomplete Domain Collapse! Immediate aid requested!¡± The words all have been waiting to hear blessed their ears, and the joy only continued. The reply was short and swift, but it held the guarantee of life to those who heard it with a monotone voice, ¡°Judge 001833, help is on the way. Centurion Heron and his men are three minutes out.¡± Despite the news, no one had any time to celebrate. Rejo ran for his life, surrounded by Dirge, and Dante held onto Sonna, prepared to escape with her. Above, Joan stared down back in her four-armed state with gauze across her chest. Arch hid behind her, holding the communicator out on speaker. Claudius leaned forward, ready to continue the battle, but a rumble echoed across the building. Pillars slid as the colossal room began to collapse. The sudden surge of power after all the damages had caused irreparable deterioration to the plant¡¯s systems. All the while, Eight continued to penetrate more daggers into Astraeus¡¯ figure, racking up close to three dozen melting knives. He cursed in his mind, furious at the fact it just wouldn¡¯t die. He could swear he¡¯d seen Anathema die more easily, but... It just wouldn¡¯t. And suddenly, a handful of fingers folded around his throat. He sputtered in awe, incapable of understanding how it was possible. Despite bleeding from half a hundred wounds, Astraeus grinned at Eight¡¯s struggling form. ¡°Guah¡­ Surewinter is strongest near its spring... I won¡¯t die¡­ without¡­ waking her. You all¡­ I¡¯ll just have to bear the price of disturbing her!¡± The technique of a Dirge, practiced to enhance its physicality, left it on death¡¯s door, tightening Astraeus¡¯ grip further. Eight attempted to reach for his Stigmata, but it wouldn¡¯t come. His injuries had built too far. His body had lost too much blood. And¡­ He was out of energy, his body and mind tapping out. Through the haze of his strangled eyes, a bloody smile outstretched as the Cryo saw something unbelievable. Astraeus¡¯ mind unfurled as the Lightsea collapsed into reality, creating a proper junction of impossibility. Tides controlled the lights, the visible of the Lightsea. They were the easily controlled, the thoroughly mastered. Yet beyond the light, there was the fathomless sea beneath, where not even a star¡¯s radiance could breach. Tides were expansive in nature, while Domains were the opposite, always pulling toward the event horizon. Something that only the strongest of Anathema could do, those bordering on evolution, locked Eight¡¯s feeble ice. Such a sight was out of place, for how young Astraeus was. The sentients who arrived were not the only talented folk upon the planet¡¯s surface, and Astraeus proved it with words and actions. ¡°Domain Collapse: Inverted Palace.¡° Eight¡¯s mind shrunk with horror, the memories of experiencing such things running through him and paralyzing him. If he hadn¡¯t been so injured, he could have attempted to break out of the effect that spanned the city, but alas, the young man had evils running amok in his mind, too. He could not connect to the Lightsea and, with his paralysis, failed to move the ice that was already flowing in his veins. His Stigmata was just out of reach, the brutal impacts affecting his focus. With the Domain Collapse, he could only accept his coming death as Astraeus set himself on killing him. But that end did not come. Instead, he soared into the air, impacting the ground a moment later as a gaseous body tackled the distracted Anathema and took him overboard. Thanks to the injuries Eight had left behind, the steaming back could do so without having to call for more power from the Lightsea. Eight landed with a sharp inhale, filling his lungs as a hand lunged for him. Above him, Claudius glared down at the young man with a complex glare, ¡°Get up. We need to go. A man just starting to become good will die because of your weakness. Because of my weakness.¡± Unable to defend himself, Eight took the hand without complaint, and sailed to his feet in a moment. The Judge peered at the film of metal that rested underneath the skin of Eight¡¯s flesh, but he didn¡¯t comment on it, not even to inform Eight of the fact. Meanwhile, Eight noticed that Claudius¡¯ water was in lower amounts, and he understood why. Astraeus¡¯ Domain. It was a Mystique. The rarest kind, such a fact, did not bode well for the combatants. Inverted Space. It stopped all others from connecting to the Lightsea, preventing them from drawing any further Tides. It was more than devious. Furthermore, that was on top of the natural advantage such a technique gives to its host, which kept Eight from Diving. The death throes of Qain resounded from below, and to Claudius¡¯ falling sorrow, the Harenlar¡¯s struggle quickly grew quiet. Qain¡¯s death had already arrived, and the reaper was not waiting for an instant. Claudius siphoned a meaty breath, pushing down the emotions that had only begun to build. He had spent little time with Qain, yet he saw a man willing to grow, to become better. He saw a man that could¡­ grow with him. Despite his melancholy, he could not stay any longer. The ceiling¡¯s collapse was imminent, with falling rocks landing beside Eight, inches from crushing him. Eight and Claudius knew better than anyone that it was time to escape. So, together, they rushed toward Rejo and Dante, who were each helping another person run away. Rejo half-assisted Lucius¡¯ azure bloody form, while Dante carried Sonna on his own. The Judge blew through a group of Anaphage like they were nothing, efficiently using his waters to dice them up, and he shouted above to Joan and Arch, ¡°Run! Meet us outside!¡± Claudius burst across a gap, dodging another Dirge. ¡°A ship should be here any minute!¡± The woman¡¯s head nodded as she picked up Arch with two of her four hands and rushed toward an exit afterward. Beneath their feet, more rubble followed. From there, Claudius caught up to Dante on the metal sheets, doing most of the work of protecting the others. Still, the human had other thoughts in his mind, ¡°Are we good!?¡± The Judge stared him down, sighing as he cut another monster in half with the remnants of his Tide, taking the lead for the rest, ¡°Yes. We¡¯re good. I¡¯ll vouch for you. But if you are revealed to be human, there is nothing I can do.¡± Dante nodded, appreciating the follow-through, and had one more question, ¡°Thanks. But... What¡¯s happening? Why can¡¯t I touch the Lightsea?¡± His question was answered twice, first by Claudius and secondarily by the figure within his mind that ran alongside him out of nowhere. The Judge¡¯s answer was short, not explaining much, ¡°A technique from peak Vector-4s and above! Only the strongest of sentients can do it! Run! Faster!¡± Judas, however, was much more forthcoming and much more honest in his tone as he said, ¡°A Domain Collapse. Did you not hear? Astraeus was not the only one growing stronger while here. He had a whole megacity to himself to devour, after all, and was beset by many foes. Diamonds and all that. If you fight again, it¡¯ll be a massacre for sure. Oh... and I¡¯m sure Qain¡¯s blood woke her up. My thoughts? Dead as shit. You, I mean, of course.¡± Dante could only stare ahead, focusing on finding the exit as he crossed his fingers, hoping that this damned Centurion would arrive in time. 22 - Gifted Breath Dirge. Why are they called so many different things? Was it us who created these bizarre strata? No. They did it to themselves in a search of hierarchy and order. We simply add two or three letters to show their vileness. The Phage are the lowest. Near-beasts in mind and little more than apex predators in the wild. Next are the Archy. A bit smarter. A bit stronger. This is the limit that a soldier without the supernatural or expensive tech can fight. On the real steps stand the Chronism. Near-sentient and with a Stigmata or a Tide, they are deadly opponents. Whole armies can be wiped out if they do not possess artillery or a soldier with their own powers. After them¡­ begins the real nightmare. The Thema. Indistinguishable in intelligence from sentients, they possess both a Stigmata and a Tide. Cities can fall to just one. Sometimes continents. The strongest rule planets. Beyond them¡­ There are things worse than nightmares. The group of six hobbled with all the speed they could through the corridors beyond the metal walkways, with Claudius in the lead, decapitating any that came close to delaying them. In their rear was Eight, the young man cursing about having to help the ¡®slows¡¯ and protecting them anyway, as despite his shattered insides, he was still the most suited for battle. Seconds passed dangerously as they covered the ground with incredible swiftness. Doors were blown open by raging waves, obstacles forced aside, and those that couldn¡¯t be moved were leapt over. The six left behind corpses, both those that were already in place and the fresh ones that decayed back into the lightless darkness. As they ran, Claudius left significant damage to their surroundings, leaving doorways collapsing while Eight brought down countless barriers in the way. Astraeus could manipulate space, yes, but he couldn¡¯t teleport, meaning every inch between them and him was time they could use to breathe. With blood trailing behind them, the group approached the exit just as a woman darted past a crossroads in front of them, a boy wrapped in her secondary arms. Claudius spotted this first and swiveled his body to head down the way she came from. Joan continued running, and the rest pursued her while Claudius inundated the hallway with the last remnants of the droplets that he had pulled from the Lightsea, leaving him powerless. Howls of pain echo along the metallic walls; the water treatment plant was a crumbling ruin around them, its once-solid walls groaning from the dying and vibrating from the inward collapse. The footsteps didn¡¯t cease, however, and the first ones to escape into the outdoors were Joan and Arch, with Dante holding the slumped Sonna along his shoulder as they trailed them. Rejo came next with Lucius, and Eight held up the rear. The Cryo¡¯s right hand cupped over his eyes as he peered upward into the skies, breathing relief into the rest before dismissing most of it, ¡°I see a moving shadow. The Starship is trying to pierce the Domain. Hopefully, it¡¯s expensive enough. Otherwise, pack some bags.¡± Dante¡¯s teeth rattled as he wished to yell at Eight for his ridiculous words, but he didn¡¯t have time to. They were missing one body. Dante pivoted, facing the plant¡¯s opened double doors while the rest retreated into the empty street. They had killed dozens of Dirge today. Maybe over a hundred, counting Claudius¡¯ efforts, but there were still many more. Worse, they were likely headed their way. Behind them, Claudius lagged only slightly, utilizing every ounce of his strength to destroy the path. The Judge had turned back earlier, knowing the looming threat. He had to buy as much time as possible for Heron. He¡¯d never heard of the Centurion Heron, for there were many Centurions across the galaxy, but he sure hoped he was one of the stronger ones. Without access to the Lightsea, Claudius faced a dead end. His body was mighty, capable of denting steel, but that was his peak. With the exhaustion running through him, he could only give up after tossing more debris in the way. It wasn¡¯t just Astraeus the Judge was concerned about. Eight mentioned a ¡®daddy¡¯, and Astraeus himself said a name. Bloody Memory. To the others, it meant little. To a Judge, however... He shivered. Only Vector-5s, known otherwise as Anacruxes or Caesars, reigned over countless Dirge as kings and queens, their abilities planetary in breadth. They needed to evacuate while Heron fought with Astraeus. Heron might be on the losing end, too, based on Astraeus¡¯ Domain Collapse. However, Astraeus was wounded. The injuries should allow Heron to win. As long as¡­ the thing down there stayed in slumber. Thankfully, the moment Claudius¡¯ sprinting form emerged into the open air, a ship breached the darkened sky above, its sleek form cutting through Domain that had encapsulated the city. Without warning, a figure dove from the hull of the ship, crashing into the ground beside Claudius, the man smeared with blood, both his own and that of others. Centurion Heron unfurled his back, standing tall to reveal another Tianshe, what most people in power within the Roman Empire were. However, none would complain about their hierarchy at the moment, with the Centurion soon coming to save them. The figure stood tall, as his nose clenched against the Domain pressing against him. His gaze swept over the ragged group, then befell Claudius with a sharp glint. After a second of inspection, Heron nodded toward Claudius, his voice carrying both gratitude and suspicion, ¡°Good work, Judge.¡± Dante and Claudius exchanged a brief glimpse, a silent understanding passing between them. The Centurion¡¯s doubt was palpable, for they were only to trust other Romans. But before he could question them further, Claudius, his face hidden beneath layers of grime and blood that he couldn¡¯t wash off yet, stepped forward. ¡°They¡¯re with me,¡± Claudius declared, his voice hoarse but firm. The Centurion studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. ¡°Load up into Heron¡¯s Wing,¡± Heron ordered, turning back to the collapsed building as his eyes and more severe senses scoped out the situation. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it from here. But things might get dicey. It knows how to perform Domain Collapse. I¡¯d give myself a sixty-forty chance to end it here, with what I feel from here.¡± As Claudius turned to deliver warnings, the aforementioned starship landed on the open street. Judas¡¯s voice echoed in Dante¡¯s mind, laced with dark amusement, ¡°Uh uh uh. That thing will not like being handled.¡± His tone sent a shiver down Dante¡¯s spine. The human turned to his crew, and he decided in an instant as he said, ¡°We are leaving. Right now.¡± His crew didn¡¯t hesitate. They knew better than to question Dante, and the one who oft did was asleep. As such, they stepped away from the failing building and ran, the urgency in Dante¡¯s voice driving them forward while the Heron¡¯s Wings opened its bay. Beating air struck at their clothes and faces, lowering their vision, but the gleaming lights that emerged from the specially crafted starship revealed six figures in the hangar. They had all long ripped their Tides into reality, yet no more would come because of Astraeus. Dante spotted two with ice, one with steam, and the rest with water. The mixtures of states were rarer than the sole states. If anything, it was abnormal that amongst the three of them, Sonna had awakened Arido at all. Dante thought, for a moment, that they would be safe with such backup. He had thought wrong. For, on the way to the ship, a wave of something powerful and ancient washed over them, freezing them in place. A voice, deep and resonant, echoed in their minds all at once, ¡°Do not disturb me. I wish to sleep another century.¡± It sounded like Judas, only far more powerful, and its threats bore physicality. Lines of blood opened across everyone¡¯s wrists with synchronicity, dripping crimson to the street. Heron¡¯s men and women on the ship gasped, stepping rearward into the starship.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Dante¡¯s blood ran cold as he realized what they had unwittingly unleashed. It had all started with an Old One, a veritable star-eater, touching him, Sonna, and Rejo. The lattermost had become the vessel for Astraeus. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t end here. The God had a plan for something. And it was using Dante. But then... what did that make Judas? Dante didn¡¯t know, and he didn¡¯t possess the opportunity to worry. All he could do was press on, for the awakening creature was far worse than he could ever imagine. Heron¡¯s Wings, the ship that delivered the Centurion, roared to life again, its engines whirring as it arranged for immediate departure. It was constructed to withstand Domains such as these. Dante could not fathom the price of such a thing or how much Heron had paid for it. It had to be more money than he had ever earned in his whole life. The proud Centurion himself rushed back out of the collapsed building, his armor stained a light red, his movements frantic. Wings of sublimating frost beat from his back, hauling him forward and away from the water treatment plant with the speed of a bullet. Heron¡¯s panic spread across the city as he shouted, ¡°Judge! Get your men inside the Carrier!¡± he roared, his voice tinged with trepidation. ¡°This planet is lost! Something awful is here! I¡ª¡± His head exploded abruptly, cutting off his words and showering the ground below with blood and gore. The corpse tumbled several feet, skipping like a rock across a tranquil pond. A moment later, the bloodless skull landed at Dante¡¯s feet, finishing its momentum without ceremony. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the silence thick and suffocating. Dante¡¯s eyes slid upward toward the creature that had killed Heron. He had known the Tianshe for less than a minute. A powerful figure, more affluent than he could ever imagine, and with a long life ahead of him, was... Obliterated. That will happen to us. And there is nothing we can do. I... Chaos erupted. The group sprinted toward the ship, climbing into it as swiftly as they could manage. The ship¡¯s engines screamed as they raced to escape, the ground below them shattering and crumbling in their wake. Still, while everyone else ran, Dante stood still. His eyes stared at the monster before him. No. The sovereign. The human¡¯s soul knew the authority that this... Bloody Memory had. The Bloody Memory loomed before Dante, her presence a freezing vibrance that seemed to drain the warmth from the air of the city. It was like she was a siphon, devouring all the life that had set foot on this planet. The Anacrux towered over Dante, standing a head taller than his already formidable height. Her figure was humanoid, but she emitted an aura that couldn¡¯t be placed yet couldn¡¯t be ignored. It was the kind that made even the bravest souls quiver, and those below lose every ounce of courage. Her hair, a gathering of protracted, coursing fibers, was unlike anything Dante had ever seen, drawing in his focus and his will¡ªeach strand formed from congealed blood, dark and thick, moving with an eerie, almost sentient grace as the lines of crimson on the street joined the symphony. It clung to her as if it was the living creature instead of her, the resonant sanguine glistening and beating, contrasting her emotionless frame. The face above her lethal figure was a masterwork of a sculptor. The flesh was pale, but it seemed to possess no blood or veins beneath. Two primary eyes, cold and calculating, stared into Dante, but it was the additional two tiny slits just below the main pair that opened wide and truly ensnared him. Those extra eyes, unblinking and filled with... The Lightsea itself filled her sclera as blood leaked from the tear ducts, locking onto him with an intensity that pierced through his very soul. ¡°Oh? Aren¡¯t you just the darndest thing?¡± A raised finger curled toward Dante, and the man sank to his knees. The augments in his body creaked in worry, resisting the effect to the best of his ability. A shiver ran down Dante¡¯s spine, cold sweat breaking out across his skin as he found himself unable to look away, unable to turn, unable to run. Unable to survive. The world around him seemed to haze, his focus constricting until all that remained were those miniature pupils pulling him into a dark abyss. Voices beat against the abyss fruitlessly. Rejo howled for his only friend while Arch kicked and screamed against Lucius¡¯ grasp, restraining the boy from running to his death. Joan¡¯s arms crossed, and her head shook. The door of the starship gradually shut while the exhausts lifted it into the air. The Bloody Memory almost didn¡¯t seem to care about the starship or those in it. She merely strode toward Dante, ignoring Heron¡¯s corpse as if it didn¡¯t exist. Her eyes held him in place, overpowering his will and stripping him of his strength. But it did more than that. The abyss brought something Dante had pushed so deep he had thought he forgotten. ¡°Ah, let me remove this fickle Domain. Then, we can really talk. But hmm¡­ Astraeus did well,¡± with a snap of her bloodied nails, the darkness eclipsing the world vanished. But that only empowered the Caesar further. Dante¡¯s consciousness fragmented while the image of his little brother, broken and lifeless, flashed before him, the weight of the guilt crushing him. It had been his fault¡ªhis mistake that had cost the boy his life. His thoughts were a more brutal torture than the Bloody Memory could ever conjure. If I hadn¡¯t... If... I... If I... I shouldn¡¯t have been born. I should have died long before Judas. He was the better one. I¡¯m... just... I¡¯m just... The memory reconstructed itself in excruciating detail, the screams of Judas while his father¡¯s enemies ambushed them at the ice cream shop. All he saw was spilled blood, the tang of brains on concrete. Dante hardly comprehended the situation back then. They were always told not to leave their father¡¯s hideout. Dante seldom listened. But it was this time, and this time only, that he brought his younger brother instead of regaling the stories of the city. Judas just wanted to see the city. The boy¡­ wanted ice cream. Dante¡¯s heart shattered anew, the old wounds tearing open as the Bloody Memory forced him to relive his worst nightmare. The Caesar¡¯s Stigmata already had a hold on the man. And it would not let go. Even still, amid his torment, the Weren in his arms stirred. She had been limp and unconscious for several minutes, but now, as if sensing the dire situation, her eyes fluttered open. Sonna¡¯s own terror was palpable, but there was something else¡ªrecognition, understanding of what was happening to Dante. And beyond that, her heart moved with the fact that Dante had done as promised. As such... she didn¡¯t wish to betray him either. The Stigmata had not yet taken her. She still had time. Little, but it was there. With trembling hands, she scrambled a shaky hand into her pocket and pulled out a small syringe. The drug inside was one she had stolen from him. A minor act of revenge and pettiness. But as she saw him lost, tears whistling down his face, she knew he needed it. Without hesitation, she injected Dante with the Nullify, the needle piercing his bicep with a sharp sting. Its effect was rapid and profound. The swirling tempest of guilt and sorrow that had consumed Dante receded, replaced by a chilling numbness. Dissociation delved soul-deep, both saving him and killing parts of him at once. The memory of his brother¡¯s death, once so vivid and bitter that he held that pistol every night, dulled to a distant echo. Dante¡¯s mind cleared, the fog lifting as his fear, his pain, and his guilt were entombed. All that remained was logic and the promises he had made. The sudden clarity was a shock to Dante¡¯s system, but he wasn¡¯t frozen as before. He promptly shouted into the air with a voice that was his own again, no longer lost in the past, ¡°Take her, Rejo! Leave me! That is an order!¡± His words were sharp and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation. The man had made a promise. Without an ounce of feelings, he could only keep it, akin to a machine following a directive. To his selflessness, Sonna screamed into the air, incapable of believing the decision and another half confused by it, ¡°What are you doing!?¡± For a moment, there was hesitation, the weight of what Dante asked hanging heavily in the air. The Araki bounced between the two sides, unsure of what to do, but in the end, Rejo accepted the order. All the weight in his arms evaporated, replaced with the cold, familiar weight of a revolver. The human peered at the steel while falling to the ground, knowing what he would find¡ªa single round left inside the chamber. Dante allowed himself a faint, bittersweet smile as he watched the starship ascend into the dark sky above, carrying the others to safety. A chilling snort echoed in the night, resonating with the corpse on the ground. The blood trailed across the ground as the Caesar kneeled down, still towering over Dante¡¯s collapsed form. ¡°Why did you let them go?¡± Dante¡¯s voice asked a simple question to the decider of his fate, for the human knew she could have killed them all at any time. But she didn¡¯t. ¡°Oh? Have I? How do you know I can¡¯t reach them from here? Maybe... I just wanted to see more misery from you. By the Theos... you are such a delight. Not much power, but I could fall in love with your suffering,¡± the Bloody Memory¡¯s slim, bloodless index finger held itself against Dante¡¯s chin, raising his two eyes to meet the Dirge¡¯s four. Dante¡¯s mind understood reality at that moment. His crew was still going to die. She just wanted him to have a little hope. But he wasn¡¯t one to give up yet. He had to believe there was something else she desired, some way out. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should do that. You are here for something, yes? I can help you. Just let them live,¡± Dante feigned usefulness as he fought to survive this situation. The Bloody Memory, in response, bestowed Dante a grim smile as she ripped his head up by his hair. Once they were equal in height, the human at the tips of his toes, she growled out a threat inches from his face, ¡°What makes you think I need help from a worm like you?¡± Dante forced a faux grin to match hers as his mind spun in madness. He knows well that this Anacrux wouldn¡¯t need his strength. He also assumed that she possesses that Domain-thing Claudius and Judas mentioned, meaning she wouldn¡¯t need any aid with technology, as she could just deactivate it all. Furthermore, her confidence in downing the starship practically out of the atmosphere said all that needed to be said. He doubted she needed a starship of her own. But... there is one thing she might have use for. ¡°A spy. You wish to set up a new war front here, right? I can act as your eyes on the inside. It¡¯d be easy. I¡¯m a mercenary by profession, and I¡¯ve done plenty of such things before. I can¡ª¡± Dante¡¯s lips were sealed by an iron-tasting fingertip, and beneath the Nullify, the human knew it was over. But a second passed without his death. Those eyes beneath the first duo bore into Dante¡¯s soul, and a moment later, the Bloody Memory stood to her full height. ¡°I would favor more than a spy. Too few of your kind are so open. You would be my assassin. Kill those that I need removed. Find the treasures I need. Kill the others who covet them. In exchange... I will spare you. And them. A two-for-two. How does that sound?¡± the Bloody Memory¡¯s judgment rang out across the megacity that now remained dreadfully quiet. Dante¡¯s eyes refused to witness the streams of blood flowing from the buildings nearby as the sky turned a midnight red, a Domain Collapsing into place. He spoke without energy, possessing only agony, ¡°Yes. That... will work.¡± Words beat themselves into the human¡¯s skull as relief filled him, yet he knew the worst had only just begun. Somehow, he would have to find a way to escape, but for now... he was in the palm of her hand. ¡°Good. I think we will work well together, Dante Penance. I care little for slavery as I have my own slaver. And... I like you. I have a¡­ fantastic taste for character. Let us conquer the Wings! Here is my first gift to you. Let it inspire both you and Astraeus. Domain Collapse: Sanguine Dream.¡° At the edge of Dante¡¯s vision, he watched the world itself overflow with the Lightsea, the boundaries of the crimson avoiding the starship, allowing it to enter the sea of stars. Unable to hold himself up any longer, Dante fell onto his back, dead tired. But then he heard the screams. The millions of screams and the cackling laughter that pierced through them all. He was no longer so exhausted. 23 - Skies’ Mum Oh! Look through those branches! Do you see it? It¡¯s a Tearless Raptor! Watch as the Sagebeast uses its Stigmata! Such rare creatures! Here at the Aviary Serenium, we study such creatures, developing ways to copy their innate arts! Come one! Come all! Unlock your talents! One-time fee of 500,000 credits! The hum of the starship¡¯s engines gorged on the psyches of the sentients gathered within its hull. There were more than the amount who answered the call, but not a soul felt joy over the circumstances. Dante¡¯s crew sat on the hardened floor without a single seat in utter silence. Claudius¡¯s face wrinkled with fury as he spun around, kicking the side of the Heron¡¯s Wing with his foot, denting in a portion of the steel. He felt something crack in his boot, but he didn¡¯t care. The Tianshe didn¡¯t even bother to apply the Lightsea to help rejuvenate his foot. ¡°Fuck! How fucking awful can a day possibly be!? This is... Rosa. Are we in contact with the higher-ups?¡± The Judge spoke to one of his equals, sitting atop the railing of the stairs that led to the main room from the hull. The woman in question, a Tianshe, much like Claudius with dark gray skin and oscillating sclera, nodded dejectedly with an equally depressing admission, ¡°Yeah. Here¡¯s Horace¡¯s communicator.¡± She then tossed a device to Claudius from her position, the object landing right in his palm with precision. Claudius investigated the screen that blinked toward him haphazardly, warning of potential dangers in the area. Someone at Centurion Heron¡¯s level obviously had more information at his disposal, and the Judge could only sigh as he saw the four other reported attacks in the nearby Sectors. This wasn¡¯t an isolated incident. There were five total Anacruxes on this side of the Wings that had suddenly appeared deep within ¡®allied¡¯ territory. The three Great Empires and all the other minor regimes incessantly fought amongst each other, but Dirge would bring them together with little infighting, hence why Heron could appear so quickly or why Claudius was in the region in the first place. As he tightened his fist, the Judge heard cracks from the communicator in his hands. With a tense curse, he threw it back up to Rosa, ¡°Send out another incident report. Tell them there was a fifth Anacrux. I¡¯m sure Heron¡¯s death is already known, his tracker deactivating,¡± Claudius sighed, his head arcing toward the steel floor. ¡°But it seems this was the last one. Maybe. According to this, the others all happen a day apart? This one had an extra day in between. Perhaps our resistance mattered. A little.¡± While Claudius grieved over the countless lives that were assuredly lost on Crislend and the other planets, much of the information hidden from the public, and even other Judges, Claudius also felt a bizarre sense of guilt. The human. Dante Penance. To the vast majority of those from the center of the galaxy, a dead human was the only good one, but Claudius was different. He saw Dante was a complicated individual, but the potential he held was real. Very real. After being given a Qualae merely days prior, he manipulated the Lightsea to the level of a Judge-prospect. It was a genius-level potential above Claudius himself, who had countless sponsors because of his prospects. The Tianshe took nearly a year to reach Dante¡¯s weight in combat from his first awakening. While using a Stigmata so soon wasn¡¯t as impressive, it still displayed more of his talent and how his companions were similarly valuable. Rejo and Sonna were two whom Claudius would have to look after, perhaps even recruit to join him. Judges were allocated several positions beneath them to aid them in their investigations and battles, just as Heron had a whole dedicated unit. About six in total for the Centurion, each with auras that put Claudius on edge. They weren¡¯t likely equal to him in strength, but they weren¡¯t far off, possibly preparing to become Judges themselves by skipping training and taking the awful exam. That was barring one. Rosa Heartwelt. The Judge remembered her from his own schooling, recalling her to be someone he often competed with. Back in the day, they were evenly matched. For his own sake, he hoped he had outgrown her. As he had asked, however, the woman went typing away while the other five with her glared at Claudius and those behind him. Especially the Martian. Lucius¡¯ kind were not as hated as humans, but few enjoyed their presence. Claudius brought a hand to vouch for them, stepping between the gazes before Lucius ceased his attempt and failure at consoling Archimedes. The Judge wasn¡¯t taking an ounce of shit this day, having already watched a blooming friendship die and a potential ally left to die, ¡°All of you. Cut it out. Centurion Heron is dead. These...¡± He looked across the figures, inwardly furious at himself for not noticing Eight¡¯s absence, ¡°...five are not to be blamed.¡± Claudius, despite witnessing the five¡¯s personalities and knowing that each was a criminal, quite fancied their abilities, even those without Qualae that had infected their souls. The ¡®doctor¡¯ was far more than a simple surgeon, showcasing a ferocity that could pair tremendously with the right element and a suitable Stigmata. Adding to the slight insanity that she had demonstrated, she created a future fearsome warrior for the Judge. Similarly, the engineer, young as he may be, was famous across this whole Sector for both his crimes and his genius. Claudius knew of Archimedes Pythagoras Isaac from both the news and this group. The right team could easily harness the boy¡¯s potential and showcase it. In fact, Claudius wanted him to work on his own ship. A dedicated engineer who could guarantee a ship¡¯s efficacy was beyond valuable. Finally, the soldier was a bit of an odd case in Claudius¡¯ eyes. Lucius had the strength, speed, and lethality of an Anarchy with all the techniques, skills, and wits of a seasoned veteran. Adding his expertise with a decent weapon, it was likely he matched Anachronisms in strength. Perhaps Lucius was even one of the strongest aboard this ship. If the Judge could convince the man to imbue a Qualae, he¡¯d have an incredible weapon to join him. Claudius¡¯ mind swooned with ambition, his sights set on the lofty chairs within the rounded room of his dreams. Congress. His family¡¯s enemies stole their riches, tarnished their name, and banished their sole survivor from nobility, citing his bastard-nature. If he wanted to regain his honor and that of his family, he would need to reach such a regaled position. That was only part of what he wanted. Once there... he could help others. Those like his family, who had been cast aside, were left to rot and forced to scrounge up leftovers and trash to feed themselves. The intensity in the Judge¡¯s gaze bowed the hatred of those before him, pushing their eyes toward the ground, too. None dared to say a word in the silence left by Heron¡¯s passing. They were no longer under the mighty man¡¯s wings and, by extension, his protection. Just as Claudius breathed normally, the enhanced starship preparing to make a leap toward the Clouds, a deeper section of the galaxy, a voice entered the air. It was that of Sonna, a tearful plea, ¡°Wait! Don¡¯t jump yet! What about Dante? Are we really just leaving him?¡± Heads turned to the petite Weren as she scrambled to her feet, pointing at Rosa, who was the decider for the jump into the Lightsea. Claudius turned to Rosa as the vice-captain of the ship refused Sonna¡¯s demand, ¡°Yeah. We need to run. Now that Horace is dead, I might just retake the UBE. But if we waste any more time, we could get caught by that thing. Without Horace, we can¡¯t dive as deeply since we don¡¯t have someone powerful enough to protect us from the currents. His ship is good, with a powerful heart, but it isn¡¯t unbreakable. Just stay quiet.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Sonna¡¯s eyes turned to Claudius, but the Judge only shook his head, agreeing with Rosa. Escape was paramount. Sure, he might have failed his first initial mission to help clean up the Dirge in the Sector, but¡­ Survival was all that mattered. Without the Judge¡¯s aid, Sonna¡¯s mood darkened. Still fatigued from her use of her Stigmata, the woman stumble-stomped toward Claudius, pointing a finger right in his face as she yelled, ¡°Without Dante, you¡¯d be dead! All of you! I don¡¯t know what he did, but I know he stopped that... ¡®thing¡¯ from killing us all! Didn¡¯t you see how it just looked at him? And spoke to him?¡± Claudius¡¯ lip swerved to the side as he contemplated her words. But she wasn¡¯t the only one beyond emotional. Rejo stood too, hardly comprehensible in words, but the meaning was still clear as he agreed with Sonna, ¡°Yeah! I ¡®et ¡®ll be ¡®ead ¡®ithout ¡®im!¡± Rosa brought her fingers to her pale brows, seething through her teeth with frustration, ¡°Shut up! You two have no idea what that was! An Anacrux! A Caesar! Sure, he might have saved us. But who cares? He¡¯s dead now. Move on with your lives. It was just one man. You¡¯ll find another totem to worship.¡± Lucius tensed at Rosa¡¯s words, finding her callousness to be like those of the people he hated the most, the commanders that sent countless to die without a thought to their lives. The veteran once thought the human he had met was like that, but he was proven wrong. Dante had shown that he wasn¡¯t heartless, despite seeming so. It was more than that, however, Lucius didn¡¯t want to stay with this Judge. The Martian felt the greed and ambition hidden beneath the mask when Claudius looked at him. At least Dante didn¡¯t hide such a fact. Plus, the human had Arch¡¯s favor. Claudius had no such thing, and Lucius cared much about what the boy thought. He reminded Lucius too much of his own children. As such, the Martian rose to his feet, shaking off the flakes of dried blood and stretching out his now-closed wounds from his magnified regeneration into reopening. While striding to the Judge, he paused with one step as Archimedes held onto his hand. The peculiar boy stared up at Lucius with pleading eyes, asking without words for the man not to hurt himself, and as such, he sighed. But before the soldier could sit back down on the bloodied steel, an unlikely voice spoke up, ¡°Y¡¯know. He¡¯s not dead yet. Or at least, I don¡¯t think he is.¡± Joan¡¯s words cut through the tension, and heads turned to her as she held up a tiny blinking screen. Claudius held his hand out for proof of her claims, and the surgeon brought it to him, walking with a limp and saying, ¡°I keep track of all my patients. He is the oldest living one. By ten years. Tracker goes out when he does.¡± A pair of seasoned eyes bore into the device, flipping through the patients, each screen having statistics for the person¡¯s condition, from BPM to blood pressure and general fitness. There were hundreds. Rosa stepped over just as Claudius opened up Dante¡¯s page, with the man¡¯s race easy to view. An abrupt shift of his hand covered the section with respect for the man, and Claudius read it aloud with a question of his own, ¡°Twenty-six. Six-foot-three. Two-twenty pounds. A-rating for physicals. Detected high amounts of drugs... Heart rate... at one-hundred-fifty beats per minute. This says nothing about him still being alive, Joan. The data could be old. What¡¯s the deal here?¡± The doctor pointed at a particular region of the device, drawing gasps of awe. Her finger hovered over a slim row of digits, ¡°See this? This is his location. It is ten miles from where we left him. And this? He¡¯s still breathing. His heart is beating. The Domain went away, and my tracker is still pinging off the¡­ metals I left in his body.¡± Claudius¡¯ old classmate laughed noisily, cupping her mouth with a closed palm. She struggled to fathom why any of this mattered, ¡°So what? He¡¯s alive? Probably turned coat for those Dirge. Scum. Only the worst of the worst do such a thing.¡± The woman strutted around the room, forcing everyone to listen to her as she levied her focus on every person who Dante had spoken to, ¡°You all seem pretty gifted to survive such an attack. Take my advice. Forget about him. He is dead to you. Move on with your lives. Join an Academy. A few of you might even make Judge in a few years. Like you, girl. I sense you are an Arido, no? Mighty rare to control the devouring mist.¡± Moods fell from Rosa¡¯s wake-up call, but Rejo didn¡¯t care. The Araki held up his palm, placing it on Sonna¡¯s shoulder. While squeezing tightly, he fought verbally to get his point across for his only friend, ¡°We... do... not... leave... Dante... behind. We... go... back... for... him.¡± Sonna glanced up at Rejo with a smile. Neither of the two wanted to abandon Dante. API piped up, too, speaking louder than he ever had before, ¡°Yeah! Dante¡¯s awesome! He¡¯d never leave us! Or die! He¡¯ll survive! I know it!¡± Lucius smiled softly after the few words, not disagreeing, as he knew just how rugged humans can be. The last member of their crew, Joan, grew a devious grin, as she didn¡¯t want to leave behind her earliest experiment. While sticking with Claudius might grant her some upward mobility, but she knew that the Penances never broke a deal. And she struck a deal with Dante to experiment on a Legate, not that they¡¯d ever share that particular promise aloud. Any other path would never end at such a height, and Joan was a woman who only aimed for the peak. She wanted all to know about her inventions, her Biotics. Joan wanted to be the best. Glaniece? Their methods of altering people¡¯s genomes were lackluster in her eyes. She wanted to change the world. Was it for the better? Who cared? She desired immortality through knowledge. The point hung in the air. All five wished to find their captain despite never actually sailing with him as a crew. A string of chuckles came from the row of Heron¡¯s subordinates, with Rosa incredulous. She opened her mouth to say something rude, but Claudius stopped her, ¡°Just leave them. We¡¯ll drop ¡®em off at the closest planet. If they have their minds set on dying, let them.¡± The sudden change in Claudius¡¯ outlook rubbed Lucius the wrong way, but he didn¡¯t press the Judge for his shift in heart. One second, he was eyeing up the soldier like a gold fabricator, and the next, he was letting them off scot-free. Rosa tsked her tongue before tapping away at the panel on her wrist. With a few movements, the aura surrounding the ship changed. Then, she shouted into the hull for all to hear, ¡°All right, then! You heard the man! We¡¯ll take a quick stop at Afton Repository and drop you all off. I recommend that you all grab something. This bad boy can take much further leaps than the ships y¡¯all are used to.¡± The lights flickered before vanishing, and then all the souls upon the ship felt a sudden upheaval as they dived into the Lightsea. The shields of the Heron¡¯s Wing protected them from the winds and currents of the oceanic dimension, but that was on the condition that they never went too deep. Technology at some levels could provide protection, yet the greatest guarantee was someone who could walk those depths on their own. Without Centurion Heron, however, the starship could only leap a tenth of its typical range. A ship made from the Ostaceans would be different, for their people specialized in such things, but Heron¡¯s was not so grand. Nevertheless, a minute later, there was a vomiting Archimedes and a ¡®doctor¡¯ far too eager to try out her anti-nausea drug. Lucius shooed her away while Rosa and Claudius cleared their landing with the planet¡¯s government. ¡°Yes. This is Judge Claudius Vermillion. I am requesting an open Starport for an emergency landing. Yes. Yes. That is fine. We are only refueling and dropping off some passengers. No. Yes. Very well. See you soon, Baron,¡± Claudius sighed as he swiped away from the audio call with the planet¡¯s protection agency, which turned into a video chat with the Baron of the planet. The Judge had long been utterly exhausted. The Judge soon fell back onto a couch within the hull, placed there for relaxation before missions. His arms spread outward as his head bent to face the ceiling with the vertebrae against the cushions. His mind swam as the starship landed itself, the automated guidance system working as planned. Centurion Heron¡¯s men spread out while Claudius racked his mind to figure out what he was going to do. He didn¡¯t have a ship. His last one, while shitty and given as standard equipment, was wrecked or abandoned on Crislend. If he wanted another, he¡¯d have to pay for it with Premium, the higher-value currency that shook hands between Judges, Centurions, Praetors, and their suppliers, Congress. In order to get Premium, whether for a new ship or new techniques to learn, he¡¯d have to complete missions. He¡¯d probably even get some deducted for his failure. However, he wasn¡¯t too sure based on the overall situation of the Wings falling apart. Out here in the Wings, the easiest way to get paid was to hop onto a battlefield, not that they were all that common. Still, some anchors existed even all the way out here. More now did, given the five Anacruxes¡¯ appearing. The circumstances led him to choose not to press Dante¡¯s crew to join him, for he, indeed, had little to offer them at the moment. Perhaps we would return to them at a later date, if they didn¡¯t kill themselves first. With closed eyes, Claudius felt a weight join him on the couch, a leg wrapping over another a mere foot or two away. ¡°Rosa? What do you say we find a battlefield? I need some Premium credits for techniques, a ship, and resources. I¡¯ll share their purchase power with you... say... eighty-twenty if you help. It could get you a technique or help you form a Contract,¡± Claudius dangled a potential future over Rosa, something he could genuinely offer since she, too, was a Citizen. The others were not qualified to receive such boons. Rosa¡¯s hand fell to her mouth as Claudius opened his eyes. They shared a second of solemness before she fired off a rebuttal, ¡°Fifty-fifty.¡± The Judge scoffed, waving off the offer instantly, ¡°No way. I¡¯m the designated Judge. Tide-Seer, remember? You are... what? A Designated Seafarer? Seventy-thirty. That¡¯s my max.¡± A giggle resounded before a hand appeared before Claudius, ready to take the deal. Shaking his head, Claudius sealed in his first subordinate. But he quickly grew to regret it. ¡°Y¡¯know... I was just seeing if it¡¯d work. I didn¡¯t actually think you¡¯d raise the bar. Fine with me, though, hahaha!¡± Rosa spoke as she stood from the couch and strode away, covering her vibrating mouth with her palm, leaving Claudius to sit with his thoughts. The Judge¡¯s eyes diverted themselves from his new partner to the ones that could be as the five sat in a circle. Well, four, as Rejo slept in a heap on the ground. Joan and Sonna argued about the former constantly trying to inject them with things while Archimedes wept, wiping away spilled tears. Lucius¡¯ eyes were closed in meditation, the soldier attempting to realign his focus, but the snores of the Araki were breaking his concentration. It was only a matter of time in Claudius¡¯ eyes until Lucius hit Rejo in retaliation. The Judge just couldn¡¯t understand them. How did Dante get them to work together? At all? It was only for a day, but still... they really rallied? Either that human needed the Psion Designation, or he could honestly control them with words alone. Perhaps it¡¯s for the best if I leave them alone. They might be too much for me to handle. I need more practice leading. Claudius removed himself from the couch and walked through the ship as it finished its landing process. The Tianshe found himself in an empty room and sat on the bed within. However, the instant his ass hit the covers, a voice rebounded off the walls, scaring the water out of Claudius. ¡°So, I overheard Rosa say that this ship is left in that Horace guy¡¯s will to her. What say we sail straight to a party-planet? This one is a bit dull. Or should we go straight for the Centurion promotion exams?¡± Eight suggested as a blade of liquid water levied itself against the young man¡¯s neck, his growing smile cutting a line of blood that dribbled down. Claudius¡¯ mood didn¡¯t know how to move as he stared at Eight, whom the Judge wasn¡¯t sure if he was alive or dead minutes prior. In the end, he simply lowered his weapon and slumped back into the bed. ¡°Go fuck yourself. And sleep. By the deeps do we need it.¡± 24 - Lost Piece ¡°The Sector was destroyed by the summoning,¡± said a cloaked man into his communicator, hidden by total darkness. An aged voice returned to him an order, ¡°Good. The sacrifice worked well, then. A shame the Praetor¡¯s daughter died, but no matter. Commence stage two. Elize shall have no reinforcements, political or otherwise. We cannot allow a Head-Praetor contender like her any leeway. Start the search for the MD¡¯s entrance.¡± The shadowed figure nodded and hung up, not wasting a moment before departing the alleyway. His eyes scanned the busy airway above, finding a lithe ship that he could take toward the Lost Reaches. Dante¡¯s hands cradled a cup of freezing coffee, the blood in his veins slowed by the snowy-breathed nature of the figure sitting beside him. Both the human and the Anathema were silent in their office chairs, listening to the terrifying woman before them. The Bloody Memory, or as she referred to herself, Thanaris, situated herself on the Baron¡¯s desk before crossing a leg, peering directly into Dante and the Dirge that provided her the nutrients to reawaken. Her lips twisted ironically, filled with a cruel enjoyment of their plights, ¡°These planets are so... dull... I can¡¯t believe you fleshies actually live this way.¡± Thanaris¡¯ hand dryly knocked a trophy off the desk, the expensive object splintering upon the floor. Unable to raise the cup of fluid to his lips with the situation presented before him, Dante asked a question while his mind ticked at the hours he had left before he lost his mind. And he knew he would, ¡°This... Miss Thanaris, Bloody Memory? I¡ª¡± ¡°I would like to be called Caesar Thanaris. Feels... nice and bloody,¡± Thanaris declared without negotiation. Dante, interrupted by the Caesar, still found his rhythm with Nullify granting him the ability to shrug off the lethal glare provided to him. ¡°Right. Caesar Thanaris. This... is not what I was expecting. Are... what are we doing? Here? In this room?¡± Dante asked, motioning to the surroundings of the Baron¡¯s office with one hand, while Astraeus shook with a lowered head. The human was unsure what the issue plaguing the Anathema was, but he was sure it would befall him shortly. Yet, Dante¡¯s attention never wholly landed on Astraeus as Thanaris dropped herself from the desk, her feet wrapped in crimson slippers grinding into the floor with a screech. After striding close to him, the female creature brought a finger against the human¡¯s chin with a hum, ¡°Hmm? What did you want to be? A slave? In a cage? I can fulfill your wish if that is what you desire, but as I said, I dislike slaves. There are many reasons, but if you need to have one for the pretty little squishy in your head, you will work harder outside of slavery than in it.¡± Dante sat eerily still, every muscle in his body clamping down out of stress and panic against such an abominable being, yet he spoke anyway, not a single shiver in his voice, ¡°I suppose that makes sense. But what are we doing? Did you kill all the people here just because you enjoyed it? If you truly wished to spread outward, then they would be...¡± The human had some part in the back of his mind hesitate, but he pushed through it effortlessly with the drug affecting his brain, ¡°...they would be better as hostages. Force the Empire that rules to capitulate or lose its highly profitable planet.¡± A grim smile crashed onto Thanaris¡¯ lips as she scratched Dante¡¯s chin lightly, leaving a thin trail of vermillion to slide down his flesh. Her sanguineous orbs bowed to stare into the human¡¯s dilated pupils, ¡°See? I¡¯m glad I left you alive. Ideas. You have many of them. And... oh? You¡¯re immune to my passive aura? No... I can feel your body trembling. You¡¯re terrified, just like that one over there. He builds resistance after a little. But... you are ignoring it. The emotion. How peculiar. Is it an innate quality? Or... a drug?¡± As if inspecting a sample of a product, the woman leaned in close, far too close for comfort with such a dangerous figure. Dante, however, while trembling, had the blessing of his most hated enemy. Lying would only get him killed. Honesty had a chance at survival and more. So much more. He spoke as he only could, ¡°Yes. It is a drug. Called Nullify. Dampens emotions to give one an edge. I take ten times the standard dose. Such volume eliminates nearly all emotions.¡± A peal of laughter burned into Dante¡¯s ears as Thanaris whipped backward, hugging her stomach through her midnight maroon dress, ¡°That¡¯s incredible! Handicapping yourself!? And... tell me... did you fight like this? Without emotions?¡± Dante¡¯s eyebrows rose, not understanding the motion presented to him immediately. After a second, however, the robotic nature of his mind made the details clear. Negative emotions power the Lightsea and Dirge. But... maybe they aren¡¯t just the negative ones. Emotions. That means... Stigmata and one¡¯s connection to the Lightsea itself are reinforced by emotions? That... makes sense. Sonna was the first to access her element, and she¡¯s very emotional. I only managed to use water when I was off the drug. That... that¡¯s why I couldn¡¯t before! It messed with me! ¡°No. I did not fight under the chem. But I see how it has affected my growth. Again, I ask, what are we doing here?¡± Dante attempted to swerve the conversation to something other than himself, yet he failed. Thanaris found him to be fantastically intriguing, ¡°Hmm... I sense you¡¯ve stolen my home¡¯s strength for just a scant few days. How about this? I train you, the first human to be honored in such a way, and you work for me. That shall be your payment.¡± The human nodded, not having any option to refuse, but he found some pieces lacking, ¡°What about food? Sustenance? Travel? How will these things work?¡± In order to answer him, Thanaris sashayed to the window, yanking it open with her bloody fingernails, staining the white fabric yet not lessening the carmine on her in the slightest, ¡°There is an entire city for you. Anarchies can be sent out to scavenge for you. At least the feeble-minded can provide some help. Most of your technology is¡­ ruined, however.¡± Everything felt bizarre to Dante, even through the drug in his system. Such a creature speaking to him in these ways was incomprehensible. While he wasn¡¯t panicking in his mind, he understood the oddness of it all. While rising slowly and stealing a sip of his coffee to soothe his throat and provide some energy, Dante walked over to the Caesar. He glanced backward at the frozen Astraeus, the Frigo capable of conjuring snow, unable to move in the slightest out of fear. Once beside Thanaris, Dante peered at her with the utmost cautionary respect. He never wanted to push anything too far. It was always a simple glance, just enough to gather information and not cause alarm. With that, he witnessed how her eyes fanned out across the city with greed, and he grew perplexed. ¡°Why do you do this? Kill them all? For what purpose? You do not seem... irrational or absurd. If anything, you are harshly clever. Why? Why do any of you do this?¡± Dante looked up at the woman, presenting a formidable question.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Caesar Thanaris faced him. As she did so, her entirety spread out as the human felt the Lightsea well up and shiver. The extra-dimensional force impacted reality, forcing itself into this world. With awe, Dante observed blood coagulate and form atop Thanaris¡¯ single raised fingertip. The crimson warped and wriggled before condensing, turning into a deeper shade that gradually grew toward utter darkness. Yet, it stopped at a midnight pigment, with hints of red lingering. The woman¡¯s voice turned educational, shifting from the sensual, violent tone, ¡°You know so little. I almost envy you. This is the seventh category of Tide. No. It is not blood. It is Unnatural. Those of us who wield it are named Necto, just as those who wield ice are Cryo, and those with water are Hydro. Rare yet not necessarily powerful, it spans any liquid that can exist. Mine is blood. If you do not unlock Necto upon your first usage of your Tide, then you will never unlock it.¡± Frustration would have already surged forth from the human had the drug not robbed him of such things. Instead, he was patient, allowing Thanaris to continue lecturing him. The woman strode over to Astraeus before tapping the droplet of blood onto the Anathema¡¯s forehead. Immediately, Astraeus gasped aloud, grasping his chest as if having a heart attack. The Caesar ignored his case, however, ¡°My blood is versatile. Able to heal, enhance, attack, defend, spread, etcetera. It is like water, only it sabotages me to use it, and it can turn into gaseous. I sense you are a Hydro, no? Your personality fits one to a tee. Adaptable and resourceful are those who use water. Not at all like those brutish Cryos. At least this one is in the middle.¡± As she referenced Astraeus, the Caesar woke him up with a start. Astraeus bowed his head, apologizing profusely. He was unlike the force of terror Dante had seen before, ¡°I am sorry, Master! I will do better!¡± If Dante had the humor to laugh, he would have doubled over in joy at seeing the Anathema in such a predicament. Still, Thanaris didn¡¯t seem to care. With a brief flick of her hand, she created another orb of blood before swiping her palm, ¡°Just be silent for now. We¡¯ll talk later. Dante, we are here to provide you with your new home. You can sleep here for the time being. Astraeus, you, too. I need some time to gather blood before we move on.¡± A second later, an explosive blast of blood directly obliterated the Baron¡¯s desk, sending splinters into the wall. The human nodded while stepping away from the sudden debris. He could tell blood fueled her Tide. If she had to collect it, that meant she only had a limited amount at her disposal. Sure, it was likely a massive quantity, but it was still finite. That wasn¡¯t the case with the other elements. Dante locked onto it in his mind. A weakness. Impossible to take advantage of now, but he would have time. ¡°That makes sense. How long will that be? And after, will we make a move?¡± Dante asked as seconds ticked further while he thought of the future. Thanaris condemned him to an impossible task without concern, ¡°A week. Maybe two. Could be a month. This planet was pretty big. A lot of mass. After... there is an opportunity nearby that I wish to exploit. No. That I must. You and Astraeus will dive into it for me while I contest with some others. Don¡¯t worry, for now, sweetheart. I¡¯ll tell you more later.¡± Still bearing a grin on her cheeks, the woman clattered out of the room but wrapped her palm around the doorway before leaving. Her head twisted to whisper out something that possessed infinite meanings to Dante, ¡°You have your world, Dante. I have mine. You would do anything to save yours, no?¡± With that information, Dante¡¯s mind was left to wriggle, and Thanaris departed the room completely, knowing better than to be called back for answers to the many questions the confused man had. Instead, he glanced over at Astraeus, the Dirge still shivering as if his own snow chilled him. ¡°What did she mean by that?¡± Dante¡¯s question was blunt, drilling into the Anathema¡¯s fear. It only appeared to piss Astraeus off, however. ¡°Fuck off. How am I supposed to know? Let her tell you. Master knows what she¡¯s doing. Probably,¡± Astraeus¡¯ legs stomped toward the exit, but Dante shouted at him before he could slip out. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going? She told us to stay here. And... we¡¯re stuck together. Might as well work together,¡± Dante held out an open palm, offering a handshake to the monster he had previously fought. He knew all too well how much he would hate himself for such a thing in a few hours. Thankfully, to the future Dante, Astraeus wanted nothing to do with him, stating, ¡°No. Just ¡®cause you won once doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll keel over for you. You weren¡¯t even the main blade. I could kill you in a second¡­ but I won¡¯t because Master likes you.¡± Despite shaking his head, the human persisted in trying to prevent himself from having zero allies in such a place, ¡°Come on. You saw how well I worked with those guys, right? I didn¡¯t know any of them but the Araki. We are stronger together. And if she¡¯s gonna send us out as a pair...¡± Dante hedged his bets on what he knew about this Anathema. He seemed pretty competent, if not also prone to anger and violence. After adding what he learned about elements and their personalities, Dante figured that there must be a part of Astraeus that thought critically. He was soon proven right. ¡°Fine. You¡¯re right. But I don¡¯t like you. Not even a fucking little. Get in my way, and you¡¯re dead,¡± Astraeus stepped up close to Dante, placing a warped finger against his chest. The Lightsea he held within him warbled, warning of the Stigmata hidden within that would destroy space. Unfazed, Dante continued on his path with a nod, ¡°Excellent. Now. What do you mean get in my way? Do you Dirge have ideals? Goals? Beyond simple killing?¡± A hand practically gnawed itself against Astraeus¡¯ face as the Anathema struggled to answer Dante. The Dirge had never been asked such a question, ¡°What? I... I guess I want to be strong? I owe Master, so I¡¯ll follow her. What kind of question is that?¡± Something ate at Dante¡¯s thoughts. He knew something wasn¡¯t right, but he couldn¡¯t figure out what. I need more information. ¡°Then why did you risk your life for Thanaris? Do you not have a higher directive of some kind? Is it for your home? What is that even like? How do you owe her?¡± Dante prodded further, finding it peculiar how Astraeus¡¯ face twisted in confusion before rage replaced it. Irrational rage. However, that oddity seemed to only worsen. ¡°I don¡¯t kn¡ªfuck you! I did it¡ªAhh... What the hell? What did you ask?¡± Astraeus seemed to forget what Dante said at all. It was irrational rage continued by bizarreness. The actions and words from the Dirge made no sense, yet Dante attempted to find reason in it, nonetheless. Memory loss? No. That¡¯s... it¡¯s like mind control. What the fuck? Something... is wrong. Very wrong here. The Dirge with minds can¡¯t talk about themselves? Or where they come from? There is something here. And it makes my skin crawl through the Nullify. Dante¡¯s eyes stared at Astraeus as the Anathema flipped out and nearly attacked him, halted only an inch away by his own self-control. After peeling his own hand back, the man listened to Dante speak, ¡°I am sorry. Forget whatever I said. It was stupid. Rest up.¡± A pair of eyes lingered on Dante before a snort entered the air. Astraeus walked out without another word, trailing his claws along the wall as he left, leaving divots in the wallpaper. With that, Dante was utterly alone in the bloodied and ruined office. His feet spread outward as he pushed aside some larger pieces of rubble, and he fell into thought. Dirge aren¡¯t what they seem. They can¡¯t be. It just makes little sense. Some are mindless, just monsters brought into being. But others... they are living, breathing, thinking creatures. The former are nearly identical to our beasts, only... stronger. I know some animals can have powers, too, but¡­ that¡¯s not what Dirge are. A piece of some puzzle clicked in Dante¡¯s mind, but it fought against everything he¡¯d ever known. His head reeled backward, with his eyes facing the stainless ceiling for clarity. He spoke into the air with no one to listen but his own ears, ¡°Are they just like us? Their own world. Their own culture. Their own... puppeteers.¡± In Dante¡¯s world, the powerful controlled the masses with media, propaganda, promises of safety, and a million other ways. With such things, they wove ideas and conventions onto billions with ease. But... they never manipulated one¡¯s actual mind. The technology for that was far too expensive and impractical on such a scale. It was impossible. Yet, the Lightsea was different. Powers, abilities, and impossible acts came from it all the time. Laughter skipped out of Dante¡¯s mouth as the protections of Nullify cracked bit by bit, all the emotions boiling within Dante too much to suppress. The short giggles grew to peals of laughter that brought him to his knees in the broken splinters. Tears slid their way out of his eyes while Dante realized the universe he lived in was far worse than he had thought. No. He always knew it was this way. He was simply blind before. The liquids dripped to the floor before hovering midway through. Manipulators. Puppeteers. The creeping leviathans in the background controlled everything. The Congress of the Romans, Ostacean¡¯s Regent, and Glaniece¡¯s Oligarchs were all the same as whatever hid inside the Lightsea. They pulled the weak every which way, without letting them have a word. As Dante¡¯s mind shattered in such revelations that even the dreams and ambitions he had as a child, young adult, and now meant nothing in the grand scheme of the universe, a man crouched before him. He appeared out of nothingness, looking identical to Dante¡¯s own face, barring those pesky scars. However, Judas was quiet. He didn¡¯t say a word and only observed the manic human. ¡°You¡ªyou! Are you one of them? The shadow in the dark? Controlling it all? Is that what you¡¯ve been doing? Controlling me? Why else do you only appear now when I make such judgments!?¡± Dante¡¯s voice grew hoarse as his volume increased, the noise bouncing off the walls and echoing only to himself. In the end, however, Judas had an answer for him. The figment within only Dante¡¯s mind lowered himself further to reach the man¡¯s maddened pose and shook his head, ¡°Dante... Dante... Dante... You are but a man. Do not concern yourself with the whims of the players in this great game of chess that has spanned millennia. Just do what you can to survive. And then... if you¡¯re lucky... really fucking lucky... you¡¯ll have a chance to pick up a piece.¡± 25 - Answers Abound It is the Congress Of Praetors that hands out Designations. These official recordings of talent, strength, and affinity are holistic and indisputable. We employ them to differentiate potential threats or allies. All Seafarers, Cellsongs, and Tekpriests have their own Designations above a certain level. But those that display no exceptional strength, ability, or utility are labeled as such. A Seafarer by us Romans, a Cellsong for the Glaniecians, and Tekpriests for the Ostaceans. These people can slay Anaphages and the weakest of Anarchies. Should one be above this level or possess unique abilities, then they will soon earn a Designation. Now, with the usual preamble done, let us begin. The words of Judas forced Dante into a tranquil hum, with the man¡¯s mind pausing momentarily. It affected him so greatly that Nullify sank back in as the boiling emotions, now released, left slight scars in their wake. Dante stared at the figure present only to him. It seemed to want him to survive. Yet... it always spoke so oddly. It had even helped him before in the original fight with Astraeus. The strangeness of everything pulled his senses back, and Dante¡¯s breath returned to normal. This thing inside his brain was not normal. The human was well aware of that. And with all the other crazed madness that had seemed to follow him recently, Dante had a simple conclusion. Judas, this Judas, not my Judas, is dangerous. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s a Dirge hiding in wait like Astraeus or a brain tumor given power by the Lightsea. I know too little about how this all works. That needs to change. Information is the most significant power in the world, no matter what anyone else may say. Dante would rather have all the knowledge in the universe than limitless power capable of killing, destroying, or creating anything. That latter creature, to the human, would still be limited by its imagination and knowledge, but the former would have no boundaries. All it would need is to use its expertise, and anything became possible. Power was everything to the vast majority of life in the Milky Way. Whether it was the ability to shatter a city, planet, or star through fists, guns, or starships, it afforded freedom and luxury. But still... Dante did not believe knowledge could not overcome raw strength. He felt as though he had proved it against Astraeus, even if only a little. They were weaker, even as an entire group, but they were careful and precise with their movements and attacks, allowing them to bring out far more potential than should have been possible. Dante enjoyed those feelings. He tightened his hand and desired to see his ¡®crew¡¯ again. They hadn¡¯t truly made one yet, but he was rather fond of his growing team. Rejo, Sonna, Joan, and Lucius were all great help in a fight. Arch wasn¡¯t as much, but Dante knew that was only a matter of time. The human was confident that if he had enough time and enough information on Thanaris, he could find a way to kill her. Any coffin could be nailed and buried, no matter the wetness of the dirt or the durability of the material. Steel could be heated to be weakened, and tools could be used to dig mud where shovels fail. It was no different with Judas. Dante raised his eyes to meet the transparent glass. He would claim his payment early. Standing just moments after his breakdown, the human wiped at his pants and fixed his shirt. Then, he breathed in deeply before exhaling without facing his innermost enemy, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are. But I will find out, eventually.¡± Judas smiled, invisible to Dante¡¯s departing back, and nodded without noise. Then the figure whispered low enough that the human couldn¡¯t hear, ¡°I can¡¯t wait, Cradle.¡± Without Dante¡¯s knowledge, the figure disappeared into nothingness, but as the human turned around, it left a slight imprint on the floor where Judas¡¯ feet had been. It wasn¡¯t anything significant or of import. But the carpet sank inward as if a living being had stood there. Seconds after, the carpet fixed itself, but Dante was already roaming the governmental building that the Baron called home. The human walked without a set destination, but he spread out his eyes and ears, attempting to search for Thanaris with his extra senses. Minutes turned into an hour as he found nothing. The building was lifeless, barring the banging coming from the opulent room Astraeus took, Dante¡¯s new partner. Dante sighed as he stood at the entrance, the two shattered glass doors letting wind into the hallway. He wanted to step out to see what the bloody world looked like after Thanaris¡¯ massacre. Yet the instant he lifted his foot, a voice caught him, one of only two in this entire world remaining, ¡°Were you searching for me?¡± After turning to face the scarlet Caesar, Dante nodded his head. His body shivered identically to his previous meetings with this woman, yet he managed to push through it via the drug in his blood, ¡°Yes. I have come for my payment. There is much I do not know. Even less that I can do. You tutoring me aids you, too. As I can¡ª¡± ¡°Mhm. I know. You sure love to talk. Talker and Simmer. I think that¡¯s what I¡¯ll call you both. Come. Follow me.¡± Thanaris waved her hand for Dante to follow her while he stood still, stunned by her agreement. However, he recovered from his surprise in a second and swiftly followed the monstrous figure. Another round of sixty seconds passed before the two entered a vast circular hall, the kind that was meant for councilmen to speak and lobby in. The bureaucratic hell Dante once ran from and often invaded himself for a payday felt like heaven compared to his current situation. The room was now destroyed. Whatever came through here during the chaos ruined the seats and tables, leaving the concave room that dipped downward so those at the top could see the center absent of any non-broken furniture. Thanaris looked down at Dante, staring into his soul as she gave him his first order, ¡°If you can remove that drug, do it now, Talker. This will all be pointless if you remain handicapped. If you cannot, I will do it for you.¡± While raising a finger with serpentining lines of blood, the Anacrux grinned mischievously, hoping that he would decline. In exchange, a long, emotionless sigh comprising the awareness of what would come next entered and exited Dante¡¯s lungs. The man clutched his hand as he reached out for the Lightsea and his Stigmata, the mark of the entity stamped into him. At first, Dante struggled to find the connection, the link, but as pure willpower gradually overwhelmed Nullify as the seconds ticked, Dante felt it, the piece of him that was forever indebted to the Lightsea. It was a sensation impossible to describe, as always. But when he pulled on the ephemeral muscle, he felt his body change. He regarded it almost as an outward presence as it reverted while his mind stayed the same. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Interesting. A Stigmata that sets you back to a preset condition? Quite¡­ familiar. I think I¡¯ve heard of something similar before¡­¡± Thanaris lifted a hand to her chin, rubbing it before she shook her head. ¡°No. I¡¯m just imagining things. Hmm. I¡¯m a fan of simpler names. Reset sounds good, don¡¯t you think, Talker?¡± As her question entered the air, Dante¡¯s eyes went wide, and his breath hitched. It was that moment. He felt it. The sensation of his entire body, his entire being, his entire set of DNA screaming to run, to flee, and to submit. There was not an ounce of him that wished to fight or stand. His figure bent as his knees wobbled and shivered. He couldn¡¯t fathom how Astraeus adapted to this sensation. It was total¡­ submission. It wasn¡¯t something he could simply fight against. But those weren¡¯t all the cards dealt. What he had done under the effects of the drug caught up with him. He left himself to die, something he would never have done in the past, likely even if he swore a promise. On top of that, the millions, perhaps hundreds of millions, that lived on this planet were now dead. The rivers of blood flowing in the streets made him sick. Furthermore... he had agreed to do far worse. He had signed off to be this mass murderer¡¯s judge, jury, and executioner. He would go where she asked, and there was nothing he could do otherwise but die. If he wanted to investigate such things, too, then he would have to deal with the puppeteers in the shadows. And finally... the figure in his head. Judas. Hyperventilation would have been a blessing for Dante as he simply couldn¡¯t breathe. Air wouldn¡¯t move in the slightest as the Caesar giggled at his condition. She was enjoying his suffering like a cat torturing their prey, ¡°Pfft! What? Nothing to say, Talker? That¡¯s alright. Just listen.¡± Dante¡¯s brain hemorrhaged for seconds as he flickered in and out of existence. Not a single part of him wanted to be there with Thanaris, but he heard her every word, nonetheless. ¡°You¡¯ve got a pretty good start with your Tides. Emotion is the source. That is why we, Seablessed, are so much better at it. Not because we control our emotions, but because we embrace them. Plus, when we kill those from this dimension, we can devour their emotions and imbibe them to fuel our own,¡± Thanaris held out a hand as she spoke, creating a swirling mass of undulating blood. Throughout all her words, Dante¡¯s condition continued to deteriorate, but she didn¡¯t care. If anything, Thanaris wanted him to worsen. She craved the future where the human let himself loose. After all, what kind of person had to drug themselves to not feel? What could such a man do when no longer restraining themselves? The Anacrux saw a future within Dante. Her Stigmata contained hallucinating dreams, but with her vast mastery over it, she could read others¡¯ dreams, their ambitions. Dante¡¯s dreams were obscured, covered in soot, dust, and dirt. Beneath the grime, however, the Dirge¡¯s flesh shivered. Eager, Thanaris observed Dante with all four eyes, the two slits beneath the main ones opening slightly, ¡°There are seven kinds of Tides, with Hydro, Cryo, and Thermo being the bases with middle-grounds. The seventh are those like me,¡± she swiped her hand as the blood undulated until it formed the word ¡®Necto¡¯ before the droplets splashed across the ground. ¡°Now, contrary to what most believe, even some Seablessed, too, you are not limited to what you awaken.¡± ¡°You can learn the others, but the further they are, the less effective they will be and the more of a waste of time it will be. Those closest to your Hydro are Miro and Frigo,¡± Thanaris tapped her temple along with her tutoring, finding a realization. ¡°Oh, you probably don¡¯t know the names. That¡¯s Humidity and Snow. Now, only experts branch out, but it is good to be aware of.¡± The Caesar then drew closer to Dante as his heart thumped with a fervor that threatened to blow out his arteries. She knelt, her dress spreading out across the rubble to meet the dying man. ¡°See? Now we¡¯re getting somewhere. It¡¯s all building up. The shit you¡¯ve pushed so deep that no one could ever pull out besides you. Be the one to retrieve it. I want you to fill this room with Hydro. If you cannot do that, then you are not as useful as I¡¯ve been led to believe,¡± Thanaris left her threat unsaid, knowing Dante to be wise enough to catch on to her meaning. If the man could not do as she asked, she would kill him. It was as simple as that. She saw a grand ambition and incredible potential, but if it could not be fathomed, then it didn¡¯t matter. A shiver ran through the human¡¯s form as it felt like he was going to die, regardless of what she did. He couldn¡¯t understand what was happening. Why was there so much? What was he feeling? Why now? Countless questions ransacked his mind, but there were no answers handed to him. All he had were ten ice-cold digits that caressed the back of his ears before tightening painfully on his head and locking his gaze forward. ¡°Now! Do it now! Release it all! Work for power first, then we can create finesse. That is the way my people do it!¡± Nails dug into Dante¡¯s flesh, prickling his skull with a looming death. His heart finally stopped, paused by the lack of air he had been ingesting. The panic of such a calm man had broken his innards, but the man did not want to die. He fought to live against his own body and his own mind. ¡°Five.¡± The nails sank through flesh and met bone. Still, Dante couldn¡¯t focus. He was furious at himself for coming here to train. It was stupid, a completely irrational¡ª ¡°Four.¡± Crimson keratin drilled into the bone of his skull, the incessant crackling noises kicking Dante into concentration. He worked best under pressure, yet this was too much. All his past hid under a rug in his brain, tossed into a corner, though here it emerged, doubled by the recent frenzy. ¡°Three.¡± At the halfway mark, Thanaris broke past the skull but lingered on the outside, not yet delving into the human¡¯s brain. A hurricane of sickness built within Dante as he finally moved his hands. They clasped together as he closed his eyes. He reached outward, grasping for the thing that could save h¡ª ¡°Two.¡± This time, the countdown damaged his focus as his entire world shook. The nails entered brain matter and changed the colors that the man saw. His world grew red, all dyed a bloody rose. Nonetheless, he fought for life, no matter the situation. Humans were hardy creatures, their instincts too powerful to be so easily overcome. No matter the danger or the risk, no human ever truly wanted to die. Even while falling from a bridge they had pushed themselves from, they would realize that they, indeed, wanted to live. A noose revealed to anyone just how vital their life was. Dante experienced such before, as he had pulled the hammer too many times to count, yet couldn¡¯t squeeze the trigger. Within the depths of his instincts, however, he felt it. While his entire being dipped into the Phlegethon, burning fire racing across his soul, he tugged onto the Lightsea. But nothing came. His hands were dry apart from the sweat and blood. Why? Why isn¡¯t it working? Am I too tired? Yeah¡­ that must be it. ¡°One.¡± The final number was said with depressive intent, Thanaris already judging Dante to be unfit. He hadn¡¯t conjured a single drop of water. Yet... The human wasn¡¯t done yet. Even as those nails scrambled his brain and flung him into the Lethe, he refused to succumb. There were things he had to do. Mysteries he had to solve. Places he wanted to see. There was a complete universe for him to explore, to enjoy. He had spent the first twenty-six years of his life wandering, wasting away while searching for an opportunity. And this was it. If trained by such a monster... Dante¡¯s eyes lit up with an azure shine, opening like a hermit in a bloody cave. She asked me to fill the room with water. I¡¯ll do one better. She wants proof that I¡¯m valuable? She¡¯ll fucking get it. The rage. The sorrow. The guilt. The grief. The pain. The suffering. The twenty-six years of doing just as his dad had, pushing all the emotions down to never be spoken of or felt again, it all caught up with Dante in a single moment. Still, he wasn¡¯t one to listen to orders. A ring of water shot from Dante¡¯s flesh, knocking Thanaris away from him and removing her nails from his skull. The human¡¯s form flittered, the holes in his bones evaporating as he stumbled from the exertion. The discomfort of his Stigmata sharpened his focus. With it, he could ignore the pain. For now. Before Thanaris could say a word, Dante raised his hand toward the surprised Anacrux, and instead of releasing his water without a hint of control like he had before, he did as he thought was best. As the man imagined a pressurized water cutter, he wrapped his forefinger and middle finger around each other, exploiting their meeting point as the blasting site. All at once, the years emerged from Dante. A stream of energized liquid more similar to a beam of plasma than a faucet detonated from Dante¡¯s twin fingers, burning right for Thanaris. The Caesar raised a single arm as a shield of blood twisted around her forearm to block the blast, but Dante twisted his tendons, and the impact point shifted, striking her right in the heart. Upon shooting straight through the wall and the one behind it, Thanaris vanished from Dante¡¯s view. With her absence, the man collapsed to his hands and knees without an ounce of strength remaining. Despite his weakness, oxygen now filled his lungs with precious life. For a slim second, Dante thought he had killed her, but he quickly realized how foolish such a thought was. Footsteps resounded for several seconds until a face plunged through the wall¡¯s cavity. Ruby irises blinked at him with a grin, ¡°Well done. From now on, I won¡¯t threaten your life. You have passed the Rite Of Caesar, or Fear, as all fear their lord. To my people, it means you have the potential to reach my level,¡± Thanaris said while patting Dante¡¯s face. Still, she wasn¡¯t finished, congratulating him in her own way further. ¡°If one can¡¯t do something so mundane as to surpass their fears while embracing them... well... they will never be more than capable of leveling a city.¡± Dante¡¯s vision flickered in and out while Thanaris picked him up by the scuff of his shirt and dragged him from the room. Her voice hummed softly, reminiscing of her own past, ¡°I recall when I did that Rite. It was... the closest I¡¯ve ever come to death. The Rites of Time and Pain were easy,¡± Thanaris paused for a moment, her breath almost shaky. ¡°Fear¡­ was not. One day, I hope to reach Evolution and overcome my birth.¡± Then she fell silent for a moment, standing still in the center of the hallway. Her memories of her ascensions between Anachronism, Anathema, and Anacrux stuck with her profoundly. It was unusual that a Dirge recalled all of their trails, as many died and reincarnated with their strength centuries later. Those that did, however¡­ did not look upon them with fondness. Such was the glaring difference between sentients and Dirge. The latter had to pursue strength, taking from others while supplementing with their own, and even then, they faced boundaries and limits, only surpassed with fatal Rites. Sentients, however, grew slow and steady, hindered only by their talent, dedication, and resources. Many Seafarers had never fought before, and some of those were powerful. Dirge? They were all bloodied warriors. The wakes of dead left behind held common ground between the human and the inhumans. Dante had learned and suffered much this day, his fading vision witnessing trails of blood flow from the street to the woman¡¯s legs and crawling up the flesh into her body like a sponge. In front of his bewilderment and complete crash, Thanaris spoke, ¡°I see why He let you live. You are an interesting man, Dante Penance. I believe we¡¯ll do great things together.¡± With those last words, Dante¡¯s mind fizzled out, only to reformat itself upon being dropped into a bed. He opened his eyes, struggling to stay awake, but he was too exhausted. He hadn¡¯t properly slept in days. It had only been about two days at this time since Astraeus¡¯ unfinished Domain took root, but he hadn¡¯t slept before that, too. His Reset helped the body, yes, but it did nothing for the mind. As such, the darkness took him, but it did not do so without a fight. Once asleep, the woman standing over him smiled as she finally found yet another to nurture. Her hand rubbed at the raw spot on her chest, and she laughed audaciously before leaving the room. A lone thought sank into the depths of her mind, contrasting her joyful sounds. This way¡­ ¡®Straeus won¡¯t be alone after I¡¯m gone. 26 - Drifter’s Fire Most people spend weeks before they activate their Stigmata for the first time. A Tide? Only a genius can wield them within a month. Three? You met three who achieved them in days? Plus, one of them used both his Stigmata and Tide? You must think I¡¯m gullible to believe in such bullshit. Still.. it¡¯s you¡­ so I¡¯ll let her know. ¡°Well, shit. They just dropped us off like that?¡± Sonna half-laughed with nervousness as she stood in front of the Starport alongside her troublesome group. Lucius stared down at her, his many wounds bandaged together and speedily recovering. Beside him, Rejo gave her a similar glance, though he wasn¡¯t sure what she said as the planet they had arrived at distracted the Araki. It was a luxurious one, built for vacationing moguls. They were only allowed access thanks to the credentials of a Judge. Even the local name, Splendrous, was ostentatious. The tropical air stung their noses, long used to freezing or arid climates, with concrete filling out the rest. The doctor wrapped her arms around each other as she addressed the others, somewhat annoyed but amused for the most part, ¡°Of course. They don¡¯t want to deal with us. And they only left us alone because of Dante¡¯s deal with Claudius. We¡¯re lucky he¡¯s a decent guy. Now, do you have any ideas about what our next step is here? We have almost no money.¡± Lips twisted as everyone realized that they were broke, fresh from prison, or gave all their income to their captain to ration out because they couldn¡¯t do it themself. The lattermost, Rejo, despondently looked to the ground as he imagined all his credits burning away in a starship¡¯s fire. Then, he imagined Dante¡¯s wealth refilling it all later, and consuming the planet in the weight of endless gold. Each individual thought of manners to gather money, and the two offered them at once. ¡°We could kidnap people and sell their organs while regrowing them.¡± ¡°Bounties? Surely some of these rich people have prices on their heads.¡± Sonna stared at Joan and Lucius in awe, ¡°What!? No. We can¡¯t do either of those. That¡¯s so awful!¡± The soldier nodded, murmuring under his breath, ¡°Right. I bet the rich bastards here have guards that are equal in value to their prices. Without weapons and cooperation, we¡¯d get killed.¡± While ignoring Lucius, Sonna clasped her hands together and peeked at Rejo. She hoped against hope that he had an idea. But as she looked at the man, she realized he was still clenching his hands closed at the long-lost currency. These fucking idiots. I miss him already. No way, I just thought that... Sonna wiped her brow as Joan grew more impatient. She wanted to find Dante so he could, first, pay her back and, secondarily, take her deeper into the galaxy. If that wasn¡¯t possible, she was willing to give Claudius a call. Though¡­ no one wanted to see the man again for obvious reasons. And for equal reasons, all present ignored Rejo¡¯s rambling. Thankfully for them all, the young man situated on the ground mumbled out an idea that they, by some miracle, heard between their arguments, ¡°Scrapyards... I... I can build a ship.¡± The anxiety-driven woman levied a finger at her companion, shouting with joy, ¡°Ah hah! That¡¯s it! We don¡¯t need to buy a ship or safe passage! Arch can build us a ship, and then we¡¯ll be off! Perfect!¡± Relief filled Sonna¡¯s mind as she leaned down and reached out a hand to thank Archimedes. Lucius, however, caught her wrist with force, causing a spike of pain through her arm. She yipped, stepping back while glaring at the soldier, ¡°He doesn¡¯t like to be touched. We traumatized him enough, carrying him earlier. But yes. That is an excellent idea. Are you sure you can do that, Arch?¡± The boy nodded, relaying only a short condition, ¡°Ye... yeah. As long... scraps aren¡¯t bad. A full chassis.¡± His speech¡¯s confusing and nonsensical manner made perfect sense to no one but Lucius, who nodded his head in understanding, ¡°Right, right. He needs a somewhat working ship, at the very least still with a whole body. He can¡¯t just build it out of nowhere on his own in so little time.¡± The soldier¡¯s head jerked around, scanning for a scrapyard, but there was none in sight. They had no idea where anything was on this planet. A moment of silence passed before Sonna groaned, raising a hand to her temple, ¡°We¡¯ll spit up and find it. Rejo, come with me. Lucius and Arch, I trust you guys. Joan... don¡¯t... get caught doing anything illegal. Meet back here in... three hours.¡± Several words of comprehension passed before the group fractured and went in different directions. API and his bodyguard looped to the other side of the Starport and went north. Joan slid to the west, taking some random face before departing as her natural face had quite the value on it.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. That left Sonna with Rejo. The Weren looked at the Araki, and he turned to face her back, the tendrils on his face flickering in inquiry. Sonna rolled her eyes and walked southward along the luxurious street. Odd cars, short in stature, drove around the Starport with long, thin clubs hanging out the back and conspicuous drunks driving the vehicles. Just a few seconds into their walk, Rejo pointed out what they might be to Sonna, ¡°I think ¡®ose are golf carts! Dante ¡®old me ¡®bout them!¡± The excitement he held wasn¡¯t able to pierce through Sonna¡¯s crippling stress. The woman was shaking on the inside, doing her best to fight through it all. At least she had gotten a proper night¡¯s sleep on the floor of the ship. She had slept in worse places, after all. A cold metal bed was better than laying next to an overheated vent, forced to receive burns or punishment. It will only get better from here on out. I¡¯m a new woman. A new person. First, we find this scrapyard. Then, we save Dante. If... we can... are we just delivering ourselves to our deaths? Maybe. But... we all need him. Sonna¡¯s feet carried her across the tropical paradise with purpose, though that purpose wasn¡¯t sure of its guidance. Instead, the woman clawed into her mind, deciding to use her emotions for what felt right. Sublimating ice formed out of her palms, leaving trails of wispy smoke in her wake. As she walked, however, more and more of the haze formed, and gradually, she started to gain an idea of how it worked. She strode past a slim reptile of some sort, and as the dry mist fell over them, the liquid in the creature¡¯s body siphoned outward. It flowed through the haze and delivered itself to Sonna, rejuvenating her body and providing her with strength. The cuts, scrapes, and exhaustion she had felt dulled, and in its place, excitement rose. She understood what was happening. Sonna wasn¡¯t just taking moisture. She was devouring life through the Lightsea¡¯s manipulation. The Tide she held was the second rarest, behind only the mystical Unnatural and above the sought-after Miro for the latter¡¯s healing capabilities. Arido held tremendous potential for violence and death, not that Sonna understood the true nature of her powers. Nonetheless, she was careful with her mists, using them only on the animals nearby and not letting Rejo graze them. In a mere few minutes, all of her wounds were gone, and a brief smile lingered before it fell to the reality she was in. With this... I don¡¯t need Dante. I could become someone important. Someone strong. All on my own. But... he saved me. I... I can¡¯t just... I can¡¯t leave him to die. As she tightened her jaw, the woman called up Rejo¡¯s attention while his eyes scrutinized everything nearby. Her Tide was difficult to see, not to mention this planet wasn¡¯t as populated as the previous, meaning she wasn¡¯t worried about it being seen. But as they got further out from the Starport and started seeing fewer and fewer people in the fields of green that spread out, she wanted to help the Araki. A stronger Rejo was a higher chance they would all live if they ran into Astraeus again. His Stigmata was incredible. Sonna believed that hers paled in comparison, and if her recollection of Eight¡¯s words was accurate, it suggested that Rejo and the cryptic young man were both users of Cryo. Most importantly... if he could create objects to use his Stigmata on out of nowhere, then that would be a massive boon. Rejo wasn¡¯t the smartest in the world, but from what she had seen, he was far better in a fight than her. Both his instincts and his physicality far surpassed hers. ¡°Rejo. Let¡¯s try to get your ice working while we¡¯re looking,¡± the Araki¡¯s face was bereft of meaning as he peered back at Sonna¡¯s words. She rolled her eyes, realizing she signed up for something immensely difficult. He didn¡¯t understand a word of what I just said. Damn it. ********************* Lucius stood against a wall, listening to Arch ramble to himself about where a scrapyard most likely would be. The soldier let the young man continue, giving him ample time to come up with a decision. While Isaac struggled to articulate his words and often seemed slow, Lucius knew he was anything but. It was the transfer of knowledge that he had difficulty with. If that wasn¡¯t the case, then Archimedes could run circles around even Dante in wit. Lucius hoped, prayed even to Gods that wouldn¡¯t listen or care, that Pythagoras would one day mature to such a level. But in the meantime, Lucius rolled the spherical container in his right hand. Before he had left the starship, Claudius pulled him aside and handed him this device. Claudius had told him that Eight snagged it from one of the many dead Dirge before it decomposed back into the waters beyond. A stored Qualae. An Immortal Corpse was the only way one could gain the power of the Lightsea without being born into it. One of inferior quality, meaning it wouldn¡¯t give an immense boost in power, but it would still bestow the imbiber with access to the Lightsea and all the woes that came with it. Lucius scrutinized the object, the item that had caused so much terror and pain throughout his long life. Most of those who delved into the Lightsea used these devices, whether it was the Judges and their ceremonies or the criminal underworld. Few, truthfully, scant few had Dirge forced these abilities upon them. But it was more unusual than that, as it rarely amounted to anything, for those given Qualae were often slain after. This came from an Anarchy, meaning he would only get a subtle boost in his already absurd physicality and a minor temporary talent increase. For a few days, maybe a few weeks, if he was lucky, he¡¯d have a heightened sensitivity to the Lightsea. Such a thing could help him train, but the blessing of an Anarchy wasn¡¯t likely enough to overhaul his fighting style. It was more than that, though, Lucius didn¡¯t want such a thing. He despised these creatures, and he loathed those who used their strengths. Though... he was coming around to the latter. Rarely did he encounter Seafarers who weren¡¯t unpleasant, and he had come across several in a row. The soldier began to believe that it wasn¡¯t the Lightsea, but rather the Empire¡¯s military, that resembled such behavior. So, he continued to roll the orb in his hand, yet he would be more willing if it held a higher rank. Lucius had heard legends that the stolen corpse of an Anacrux had been gifted to the slayer¡¯s son, and that child had decades of incredible growth. The stars whispered his last name alone, and his first name was so terrible that no one dared to speak it. Legate Vicar was born with gold in his veins and injected with rocket fuel, destined for greatness. Lucius, however... The soldier was born in a lab, forced to survive countless experiments, and then, when ultimately freed, he fought in hundreds of engagements, suffering injury after injury. And when he eventually got his life together... He lost everything. In order to use such a thing... would only cement in his mind that he was meant for nothing but to be the dirt beneath some powerhouse¡¯s boot. As such, he quietly placed the gift back into his pocket. He¡¯d give it to Joan. A thing like her deserved such a sentencing. ¡°Lucius? I... I have an idea,¡± Archimedes¡¯ gaunt voice drew a smile unto the man, and he pushed himself off the wall to hear what was next. ******************** A figure slipped through an alleyway, dragging a man unable to scream as slurred words left his mouth. Four firm arms kept the drugged man still as another serum entered his veins. The victim grew limp as his eyes clouded over, and Joan¡¯s grin emboldened at the art of her chemicals. This one here wasn¡¯t a flawless truth serum, but it made people more suggestible. With such an elixir, asking for something as mundane and unproblematic as a scrapyard was guaranteed. ¡°Where is the nearest scrapyard?¡± Joan¡¯s voice slithered into the rich man¡¯s ears with a crawling sensation, her tone mimicking that of a different person. The doctor couldn¡¯t help but loathe her ¡®partners¡¯ methods. They were too safe. Too... lawful. It was ineffective. Such reasons were why she enjoyed allying with Dante. He would win. That is that. The path didn¡¯t matter, only the efficacy. An answer came to her hastily, though blurred, ¡°Reichter¡¯s... Street... North Ave... Wwwwwhy are you dooooing this? Money? I can pppppay you...¡± Joan¡¯s faux joy faltered as she shook her head. ¡°No, no, no. I don¡¯t need money. Well, I do, but credits are easy to track, especially for someone like you. Have a nice day, rich man. Thank your stars that I¡¯m busy,¡± Joan said as she stepped back after filling the man with another dose of liquid and put her hands on her hips, all four of them. Well, now I have around three hours to kill. Let¡¯s see what kind of unique fauna such a place has. I¡¯m sure there are poaching galleries. Before I get a Qualae, I¡¯d like to finish my fourth Biotic. The Brute needs just a little more. Joan plunged deeper into the darkness of the alleyway, vanishing just before the man¡¯s friends arrived, shouting for him, ¡°Hey, Charres! Charres! Are you okay? Wow! You¡¯re sloshed, man! This is a business retreat! You can¡¯t be drinking so much!¡± The people were none the wiser as Joan¡¯s form cracked and rippled, falling onto all four and bulging with muscle. The Pouncer was out, and Joan had some destinations to visit. 27 - Sculptor’s Moon Centurion Rasa stood straight and tall before his Praetor, bowing his head lowly and reporting, ¡°We can¡¯t confirm anything, but Claudius doesn¡¯t lie. His divination is too strong. The appearance of Thanaris the Bloodmoon is true, anyway. As such¡­¡± A woman, her frame hidden by a glaring radiance from her eyes, continued the man¡¯s assessment, stating her own, ¡°We need to recruit those three. I know the boy. He felt indebted and couldn¡¯t see the light. Do some digging, Rasa. I want the Hydro. Oh, and monitor the Anomaly. He¡¯s¡­ special.¡± The Centurion bobbed his head before exiting the room in a hurry to follow orders. On his way out, however, he received one last report. ¡°Prepare yourself, Rasa. A storm is coming. It is not so easy to rise from a Praetor¡¯s chair. As my second, things will fall to you, should my gambit fail.¡± Once outside the office with the heavy door shut behind him, the middle-aged Harenlar¡¯s flesh rippled with a power that struggled to be contained. Rasa remained motionless for a single moment before he wiped at his eyes with all four hands. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Where the fuck did he go!?¡± Claudius shouted into the echoing hallway of the Heron¡¯s Wing, pissed beyond measure. En route to Infier¡¯s Edge, a hot spot of warfare on the outskirts of the galaxy, beyond even the ¡®boonies¡¯ that Claudius was previously. The Judge gripped the communicator in his hands with sweat, informed moments prior about the aim of his next destination. While the higher-ups saw he failed his first mission, they were impressed with his combat strength, and they wanted him to do more. Even his Praetor agreed. Excellent. They called what I did... excellent... fucking... ahh! Where is he? ¡°Eight!¡± Claudius howled into the ship again, with heads peeking from their rooms with confusion or annoyance. While stomping through the ship, Claudius skipped past all the occupied rooms and discovered an open door towards the tail, where the ship¡¯s minor bar was. As he walked through, his eyes caught sight of the putrid figure he had to work with. Because... While choking out his hatred, Claudius spoke to the young man as Eight poured himself a tall glass of alcohol, ¡°You have been... ordered to join me as my Jury. She found you to be... irreplaceable.¡± The Judge wasn¡¯t sure what brand of drink the Cryo was delighting in, as he had never partaken in alcohol before, but it enraged him further. His failure and the fact that so many died under his watch embarrassed him. It was more than just the mission. He harbored anguish every time he thought of the dead in the city. From the little girl who pleaded for help through her window to the father who hid in his cellar, the slamming of the doors was audible to Claudius even now. Despite all that, Eight was enjoying a glass of amber fluid. The young man nodded as if he was expecting the decision to be made after he introduced himself to Claudius¡¯ commanding Praetor. Again, it only made the storm bolder as the Cryo dropped a thin sheet of ice into his drink and swirled it. ¡°Hmm? Nothing to say? You¡¯ll just drink? All those dead? They¡¯re... Heron... Less losses than expected! That¡¯s bullshit. Say something, bastard! Ah... you make me want to just shoot you,¡± Claudius slammed his Executioner atop the counter, the sound of steel and granite colliding piercing enough that Eight winced. In response to the fervor, Eight glanced over at Claudius, sighing softly, ¡°We both know you wouldn¡¯t win that fight. But that¡¯s good. You Judges are entitled to many privileges being the specialized agents you are. We want them happy with us. And think about it. Just losing a single Centurion and a planet while retaining a high-potential Judge over the appearance of a Vector-5? A Caesar? That¡¯s a steal.¡± Claudius fell silent, his eyes gliding to the pistol in his hands, the fabricated thing meant to function under Domains. Yet, it would only work against low-level Domains. Claudius didn¡¯t want to admit it, but Eight was likely right in this situation. He was merely unfortunate to run into such a monster. A shiver ran through the Judge¡¯s body as he recalled the gaze of the Caesar. ¡°How did Dante speak to it? I could barely not piss myself,¡± Claudius said aloud as he shook his head, peering at his unwanted companion. If only Eight hadn¡¯t snuck into the room while he spoke to Praetor Sun, Claudius might have avoided such torment. While Praetor Sun¡¯s influence was tremendous within the highest echelons of the galaxy, her eyes did not possess the same tragedy that the Caesar¡¯s did. It contained the blood and anguish of millions of lives. Sun, however, was a bright woman, cheerful despite her seriousness. She had even been the one to teach Claudius the method of Chanting. Such a technique was vigorously sought after, and a vast portion of Claudius¡¯ strength was owed to her. And to his grandfather for bestowing it to her. However, that didn¡¯t mean they spoke much. She was a Praetor, after all, busy beyond compare. The comparison between Sun and the Caesar, however, left her lacking. Eight had his own thoughts to add after he topped off his amber, ¡°Drugs. Copious drugs. That and an already egregious will. Something tells me we¡¯ll see some more of him. Dante Penance isn¡¯t a man to die so soon. He¡¯ll weasel his way out.¡± Claudius lifted an eyebrow at the young man¡¯s certainty found in his voice. He couldn¡¯t understand why Eight was so sure, ¡°Why do you say that? He¡¯s doomed to die on that planet.¡± With his head waving back and forth, Eight stood up from the bar and sauntered away, ¡°Because he reminds me of me. Power isn¡¯t everything. With enough cleverness, some luck, and the right skill set, you can become too valuable to kill for anyone.¡± The briefcase he always carried followed him as his fingers wrapped around its handle a moment before leaving the room. Eight left Claudius¡¯ mind to brew on those words for several minutes. It opened a new avenue for him, a sparkling river of opportunity because he understood the wisdom in that phrase. Power isn¡¯t everything. Huh. That¡¯s... a first. All the teachers and seniors would argue otherwise, but... maybe the little shit is right. Praetor Sun saw something in Eight, something that let her disregard his suspicious nature to allow the Anomaly to join me. As for the human... without him, that fight against Astraeus ends in the bank. The man¡¯s hand inched toward the still-open bottle left by Eight. At first, his mind did so in an effort to close it, but as his fingers enclosed around the glass, he hesitated. A second passed wherein the chill frost from the refrigerated beverage sank into his flesh, reminding Claudius of Astraeus¡¯ Frigo. Beyond that moment, Claudius went to pour himself a sip, but the instant his muscles moved for that purpose, the entire starship jerked.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The Tianshe managed to steady the liquid and set it down. Then, huffing, he walked away from the counter, clenching his fist and speaking to the worlds between, ¡°Tertia Manus.¡± A tendril of water extended from behind Claudius and closed the bottle before returning it to the fridge. The fake hand succeeded in a clumsy manner, but it saved the man precious time as he rushed toward the Skull of the starship. His feet beat against the steel floors, and in a scant few clicks of his watch, Claudius stood in the Skull alongside the rest of the ship¡¯s crew. Five in total lined up in a circle, with Rosa Heartwelt in the center, piloting the starship bequeathed to her with Centurion Heron¡¯s passing. Claudius¡¯ eyes stretched out across those that remained. Three of Horace¡¯s crew stayed on Brimmer, taking a vacation before returning home after what had happened. The Judge couldn¡¯t blame them. Horace handpicked them, but they weren¡¯t Judges themselves. It was one thing to hunt down Dirge, but being a government-sanctioned executioner was a different matter. Claudius didn¡¯t have the weight or individuality to go as he pleased and take the missions that suited him. The two that remained, however, gained Claudius¡¯ respect. It was expected that the first two remained, Rosa and Eight, who were near Claudius¡¯ level themselves. As for the next two, the man ran through them in his head with haste before taking stock of the situation. Yue Yamare is a Harenlar who specializes in firearms. Four arms sure make that easy. She seems competent and level-headed. As for Talander Sereous... That¡¯s too many blades. I hope he knows how to use them. At least they aren¡¯t as oppressive as Eight. The Irgen stood with crossed arms, his scaled tail waving behind him. Something told Claudius that the limb could wield one of the countless knives or swords lathered across Talander¡¯s body. Still, he had daydreamed enough for today. It was time to focus. ¡°What¡¯s the situation, Rosa?¡± Claudius stepped up and squinted toward the systems to see the crisis. Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t skilled with this ship¡¯s intricacies, and he had to rely on Rosa as she answered, ¡°We have been cruising in space, waiting for our shields to regenerate for another dive, but it seems the sensors picked up some Lightsea signatures nearby. A Vector-3.¡± Heads turned to Claudius as everyone in the room waited for his choice. Despite the ship belonging to Rosa, the Judge was the decision-maker. Eight, however, spoke aloud before Claudius, as he didn¡¯t care for such frivolities, ¡°It¡¯d slow us down. Infier¡¯s Edge is a fine place to grow stronger if you don¡¯t die. The Juncture has survived for decades, though, so it¡¯s not going anywhere. Still... with the sudden appearance of Caesars away from the major battlegrounds, I say we leave this be.¡± The Judge¡¯s eyes glared at Eight as the man, mere minutes after taking up his position, turned down the chance to save some lives. However, he was not alone in such emotions; Talander and Yue also fumed at such words. After exhaling from his nose with annoyance, Claudius answered, ¡°Where are the signatures? Can someone else handle it? If so, we¡¯ll move along. Otherwise... we¡¯re not leaving anyone to die.¡± Nods of agreement followed the tight circle, with both Yue and Talander approving their new leader. Rosa bit her lip, as she wasn¡¯t so sure Claudius would like her response, ¡°Well, from what I see, there are bounty hunters moving toward the position. No registered Vectored or sanctioned parties. It is on a residential planet.¡± Much to Eight¡¯s chagrin, Claudius made the final decision shortly, ¡°That settles it. We¡¯re going.¡± The announcement was followed by the youngest member plopping onto a chair and pulling a bottle of wine out of nowhere. Claudius¡¯ glare grew to a boiling point. Yep. I am going to kill this kid the second he is an adult. ******************* Limbs flailed in a panic as a voice sealed the fate of a monster, ¡°Aqua Calefacta.¡± Water surged forward, nearly at the point of boiling, and split the skull of the Anarchy the group had come to exterminate. Claudius¡¯ Chanting was not unnoticed as Rosa sarcastically slow-clapped. ¡°Wow! Taught by a Praetor, huh? Wish I had such a luxury. Instead, I was declined, and now¡ª¡± Rosa reset her chainsaw by ripping her arm backward, the improbable weapon fitting her. ¡°I am stuck working on the fodder. Say, bounty hunter twelve. Do you have any warrants?¡± Claudius alone could have made quick work of the whole hallway of subdued greedy bounty hunters who went too far above their weight classes. The Anarchy swiftly dissipated while Yue reloaded her four submachine guns and Talander sheathed his swords. The two helped the Judge slay the monster. While the three took out the primary threat with no damage to the hotel they found themselves in, Rosa dealt with the others, ¡°Wait! Wait! Wait! Don¡¯t kill me! I¡ª¡± ¡°Murder. Arson. Rape. The last one. He¡¯s actually clean. Let him go,¡± Claudius declared as he cut off the bleeding man, pleading for his life while glancing at his communicator. The facial recognition in the device made it easy to do his job. Judge. Jury. And executioner. That was the job of a Judge. Rosa did as asked, and the rev of the chainsaw punctuated the air with the uncorking of another bottle, ¡°Eight. By the deeps... what are you doing? Are you trying to get wasted?¡± Once he saw the young man leaning against a wall covered in bullet holes, doing nothing at all during the fight, Claudius finally lost his patience. Eight, however, shrugged while frost wafted from his newest spirit, ¡°You didn¡¯t need me. And I¡¯m bored. Might as well practice my Tide.¡± Claudius gaped at Eight in awe. The Cryo was exercising his Tide by creating tiny icicles in his drink. His blatant lie bulged the blood vessels in the Judge¡¯s forehead. ¡°Fine. Fine. Fine. But if and when we do need you...¡± Claudius stepped close to Eight while his words trailed behind him. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Don¡¯t worry about it. I didn¡¯t aspire to be here anyway,¡± the Tianshe strode away after hearing the reply, rolling his eyes, unable to deal with Eight any longer. The Cryo acted like a loose cannon, but he had some ulterior motive. Otherwise, Eight would have long abandoned Claudius. As the Judge walked away from the scene, a thought came to his mind. He¡¯s hiding something. Eight had mechanical parts in him, but what does that mean? He¡¯s been acting weird. I guess he¡¯s always weird. Hmm... I¡¯ll have to get him to say something. Later, though. I need to inform the owner of the hotel that it is safe now. Somehow, this Anarchy flew from outer space and landed nearby. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for Dirge to be hurtled across space by a more powerful one to spread their reign, but it was suspicious with the current ongoings in this portion of the Wings. Such a thing likely meant a more significant invasion was soon to begin. No one had launched an attack on this region for a long time. Claudius couldn¡¯t even recall when that time was exactly, so he knew he had to get a move on. He needed to be stronger. The higher-ups were already aware of everything he knew. The Judge refused weakness. He needed to be more. As such, he worked through the case on auto-pilot, speaking to the hotel owner and the local authorities before returning to his ship. This case is what he had been expecting when he was a child. As an adult, he wasn¡¯t so na?ve, but still, he had never imagined what was waiting for him. ¡°Rosa, take us to Infier¡¯s Edge. We need to get stronger. Fast. Things are about to heat up soon around here.¡± Claudius placed a hand on the seated woman¡¯s shoulder with determination bound within. ¡°And I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll stop with these Caesar¡¯s appearances. I think they¡¯ll make some bold moves. Bold enough to shake the Wings.¡± As Claudius did so, he leveraged the Lightsea, the innate part of his mind, body, and soul. His Stigmata. Telemetry. Visions raced past his mind as he searched for something. The Judge¡¯s Stigmata was a rare brand of Seer, able to peer into the past of both the living and the non-living. Often, he had used it for investigations and tests, granting him information that he should otherwise not possess. But it could be used for greater purposes. Claudius hadn¡¯t met Rosa in a long time. He wanted to see if she learned anything worth his notice. Flashes of memories flew by his eyes as he honed in on a specific sensation. It was of Rosa using her own Stigmata, Thistlecure, the curious thing allowing her to close her wounds with self-growing thorns. Limited in size and strength, the thorns could do little else. But while he watched the thorns at work, he noticed her reading a parchment titled ¡®Moonsculpted Flesh¡¯. Interest bloomed as Claudius realized it was a technique meant to enhance the body, though it could only be cultivated under the light of a full moon. It must have cost a fortune, perhaps even a gift from Horace. With his Stigmata¡¯s blessing, Claudius memorized the script for the method, and then the Judge pulled back his Stigmata to hear Rosa¡¯s acknowledgment. ¡°Aye, aye. On our way,¡± Rosa¡¯s slim smile held itself on her cheeks, and Claudius felt just guilty enough about his theft to abscond himself from the Skull and into his room. He didn¡¯t want to have to look at her for the time being. Telemetry didn¡¯t let him copy techniques or anything fancy like that, but it did afford information. And this information... Moonsculpted Flesh. Three stages. The first stage allows the user the strength to lift a car, the second, a skyscraper, and the third, an asteroid. How... presumptuous. Nevertheless, it¡¯s better than the standard body enhancement given to Judges. This one is premium. Claudius read through the technique in his head while moving the Lightsea to match its motions. The Tide in his body weaved inside him, not consolidating into liquid form as the method didn¡¯t ask for such a thing. The man wasn¡¯t going to cultivate the technique this time; he only wanted to validate it. Claudius¡¯ heart beat faster as his excitement grew for the future. This thing was real. He could feel how the waves affected his flesh and knew that under the right circumstances, it would do wonders. The only unfortunate thing was that such methods ate into one¡¯s time. As a Tide-Seer designation, Claudius was best suited for focusing on his Tide, not his body. Rarely, very rarely, did one split their attention between such things with equal focus. It often had detrimental effects, too, and instead of strengthening the self, it slowed their growth and stunted them like excessive poundage. As Claudius read the intro into Moonsculpted Flesh aloud, he acknowledged that he would assuredly never surpass the first stage, ¡°Under a moon¡¯s caress, your flesh is forged anew. First, the earth yields to your might. Second, the towers of man bow in your grasp. Finally, with lunar strength, you command the heavens themselves. The light of moons, like that of stars, bestows life and strength. The Lightsea is not the only giver of blessings, nor the inheritor of waters.¡± Yet just before the words that would likely be traded away in the future swept away Claudius, a blinking light came from his communicator and awakened his focus. The light was a vicious yellow, meaning only one thing. Praetor Sun. He reached for the device and picked it up, reading the message sent to him. ¡°You are currently on the outskirts of the Wings, Claudius. An opportunity is arising soon. A¡­ treasure hunt, of sorts. I know no better Judge than you for such a task, since Seers are not allowed on missions with a chance of death. Your visions will be paramount to success. You have two months. More information will come, but ensure you are present on Gladius C before November 11th. I know you will not fail me. Do this, and I will personally grant you Prime Citizenship, the kind they took from you before you were born. It will cost me many favors, but you are worth it. With sunshine, Elize Sunwin.¡± Claudius¡¯ hands shook as he received a mission from his Praetor. Typically, she only oversaw the process, confirming appointments and missions. They never sent someone on a ¡®treasure hunt¡¯ as far as Claudius knew. Fear surged up within him, but he clenched his fists in response. The reward, no matter the risk, was too vital. He would return his family to their grand height. No¡­ he¡¯d do one better. He¡¯d give them a new name. A new start. That is what Claudius would do. For his grandfather. 28 - Two Spheres Born For this century, I would like to begin with the newest changes amongst the Tidewalkers. Oswort stands as our premier Tidewalker, the epitome of manipulating one¡¯s Tide. While his many Covenants allow him to wield all Tides equally, he faces dire restrictions in their use. Emulate his power, not the path he strode. There are some new up-comers amongst the Tidewalkers, however. The Designation is home to only those who specialize in their Tides, whether it is Hydro, Cryo, or Arido. Only Necto is excluded. Otherwise¡­ Vicar would be present at the top of almost every Designation. Let us give praise to: Praetor Sun, heir to the Drowned Dragon¡¯s spirit. Her waves hold his ferociousness and his love in spades. Praetor Landon, patriarch of House Gilward. His steam is quite remarkable. Reminds me of our late Legate Quinton. Praetor Gael, newly ascended and still green, but I see a grand future for his Humidity. Hints of Swane lie in his mastery. The rough fingers of an Araki man clasped tightly with mechanical whirring in the background. Throughout Archimedes¡¯ work on the broken ship that required a few days of repairs, Rejo set himself upon a goal. He would catch up to Dante. It was an impossible task for him. The human had always been far above and beyond any other he had ever met. And as he heard more and more about Tides, the Lightsea, and the Dirges that plague the worlds, the man¡¯s admiration had only grown more revered in nature. Rejo had never been what one would call a sane man. He left a wonderful and safe homeland for a life of adventure, blood, and death. The reason? He wanted fun. He wanted to live. He wanted... to be someone, to be something. And he always saw Dante Penance as the epitome of such. They had worked together for many months, both had gone through countless acquaintances, and Rejo had been offered far more payment with other organizations, but he stayed with Dante. Was it because he believed only Dante could lead him to greatness? Was it because he thought those other organizations only wanted to take advantage of him? Was it because his instincts screamed Dante was never to be crossed? It was none of them. Rejo had found a man with the ambition to seize the stars themselves, and he had to embark on such a journey himself. No one else seemed to comprehend the depths of Dante¡¯s initiative, but Rejo believed he did. While his mind swam and ballooned with wonders, the man stared intensely at his palms. He saw futures where they conquered planets, managing to overcome a nation-state. But it didn¡¯t end there. From planets to Sectors, they cleared their way like an unending monsoon, the kind that plagued his homeworld. From Sectors to Regions, and finally, the galaxy itself, it would fall before Dante. At least, that is what Rejo believed. Few thought him wise in any capacity, but he saw himself as shrewd beyond measure. For such an incredible being such as Dante Penance, Rejo would give his all. He would give his everything. Why? Was he a follower to his core, unable to choose for himself? No. The scenery within Rejo¡¯s pupils changed as his mind took over. Here, the Araki found himself within an endless field of maize. The crops extended into emptiness so far away it was immeasurable, but Rejo was too focused on the figure before him to care. A human stood tall at the center of the maize field, his silhouette framed by the golden stalks swaying in the wind. He radiated an aura of unshakable confidence, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon where the sun dipped below the stars. It was a confidence unlike any other. Even that Caesar would pale compared to the Araki¡¯s chosen captain. In Rejo¡¯s mind, Dante was a figure whose very presence commanded the universe to bend to his will. If he wanted something, he could have it. It was only a matter of time. The cosmos itself seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. As he watched, in awe for a moment, he saw how the radiance of the star withered with Dante¡¯s blinks. Again, that reverence grew. The Araki wished he had such power, and the only way he would ever have it was by riding the rising tsunami. Rejo approached, his steps deliberate and growing in exuberance, sensing the weight of the countless victories they had already shared. In his imagination, the memories were vivid¡ªso much so that a Psion would find them should they search, and the false scenes quickly became permanent. There was the time they had snuck into the citadel on Rorsach VII, outnumbered and outgunned, yet emerging victorious with Dante assassinating the Centurion in charge, with Rejo at his back, insuring his escape. Another flash of memory showed them injured atop the smoldering ruins of the Troupe¡¯s hidden laboratory on Deneb Prime. The scent of ozone and burnt metal was nearly as heavy in the air as the tang of blood from the criminals indebted to the underground¡¯s ruler. Rejo knew Dante held distaste for such things but bore it, regardless. The captain had turned to him then, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and clapped a hand on Rejo¡¯s shoulder, ¡°To the next one, you and I.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Dante beamed, and Rejo¡¯s spirit soared. Even so, the best was still yet to come. They were destined for more impossible things¡ªSectors would quiver at the mere mention of Dante¡¯s name, and Rejo would be there, always at his side, ensuring that the human¡¯s plans always went as they should. The Araki was convinced that Dante¡¯s rise to power would be meteoric, but... to him... It was his job to protect him from the things he was blind to. Companions. Crewmates. Dante always had a soft spot for those who worked with him. He hated to show it, but Rejo knew it to be true. The spontaneous man would have to be the one to guard him. He would prevent any more betrayals. No knives would ever pierce his captain¡¯s back. The maize field rippled with a sudden gust, and Dante turned, his eyes locking onto Rejo¡¯s. The intensity caused the plains to warble under its might. This was it¡ªthis was the moment that all their shared victories had led to. ¡°Rejo,¡± Dante¡¯s voice was deep, more profound than usual. But, of course, it was. This was the ultimate form of the legendary man, possessing enough scars to kill any other man. ¡°The stars are waiting for us. But we can¡¯t afford to falter. Not now.¡± Rejo nodded fervently, his fists clenching with determination, ¡°I won¡¯t let you down, friend. We¡¯ve come too far and fought too hard. Nothing will stop us. We¡¯ll reach the center of the Great Cavity!¡± Dante¡¯s gaze unwound, and for a brief moment, Rejo believed he saw a glimmer of pride, of appreciation, in those emotionless eyes. It was all the confirmation he needed. They were brothers¡ªnot by blood, but by battle. It was by the shared dream of conquering the stars that connected them immortally. ¡°Good. I knew I could rely on you. Now. Become strong. I don¡¯t want to leave you behind,¡± Dante ordered his sailor before falling silent. The plains faded with his words, bringing tears to Rejo¡¯s cheeks, for the man knew Dante would. That is just who he was. It wasn¡¯t a fault, but the piece that made him so unique. The human would let nothing stop him from what he wanted. He was Dante¡¯s best and only true friend, the one person who understood the weight of the captain¡¯s ambition. All the others that have come have their own motivations and goals hidden beneath their allegiance. Not Rejo. His heart was pure. No matter how they valued or qualified the human, he would always surprise them, but he would never overwhelm his friends. As the imagined scene faded, and Rejo found himself back in the reality of the cold, metal corridors of the abandoned ship, he still felt the ardency of that connection. It fueled him, coerced him to train harder, rage fiercer, and shield Dante with a zeal that was as boundless as the heavens themselves. But the cold reality did not distort his gut. If anything, the chilly metal brought out a part of Rejo he wasn¡¯t aware he owned. He stood as if possessed and strode outside the small ship meant for only a handful of passengers. The Araki exited the ship and bee-lined for Lucius. The soldier was aiding Archimedes in carrying scrap and electronics from the mess to the vessel for the kid to use. Sonna read a book a mere few feet away while Joan was currently off getting food. Rejo didn¡¯t waste a second. ¡°Lucius. Train me!¡± His excitement and determination were enough to put any military instructor into a fever. Unfortunately, Lucius cared little for such things. He simply shook his head and ignored Rejo¡¯s delirious ramblings, ¡°Go be crazy somewhere else. Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m busy? We can¡¯t help Dante if we don¡¯t get the ship working.¡± Despite being turned down, Rejo¡¯s spirit wasn¡¯t hampered. He nodded as if expecting such an answer, and so he trekked around the ship to an unknown portion of the scrapyard. The trash heap was devoid of people because of its toxicity, and as such, only Lucius could dive into it without care for parts. Rejo, however, didn¡¯t care. A higher power called. The Araki¡¯s mind cut out the words calling to him, and he sat down upon the detritus. His eyes closed as his imagination grew. Instead of Lucius, another voice guided him. ¡°Think deeply. Move your emotions, your soul, toward the Lightsea. Yes. Perfect. Now, revolve it within your body. But don¡¯t overexert it. Slowly, pull it all toward your hand. Then, like a bubble expanding, let the world see you,¡± Dante¡¯s words taught Rejo how to move his Tide. The Araki didn¡¯t even question the knowledge, as if it was always a part of him. And, when he unfurled his eyes, a crackling aura came from his hands before dissipating without effect. No sound congratulated him other than the nonsensical hymns in his mind, but the Cryo expected such. Dante was not prone to acknowledgments of trials. He only respected the strong. As such, Rejo devoted his all to being second to only his captain. And he was not strong yet. He didn¡¯t know what he had just done, but he believed in his captain, returning to create that expanding bubble. That is until a shout finally broke him from his imaginary stupor, ¡°Hey, maniac!? Get out of the poisonous sludge!¡± With a dim smile and shaking his head, Rejo turned to find Joan uttering a groan while approaching him. The four-armed woman urgently retrieved a serum of some kind from her duffel bag of endless poison, ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re this stupid. Did the fumes get in your brain or something? No, it doesn¡¯t matter. This should remove the toxins.¡± The liquid from the syringe entered Rejo¡¯s bloodstream, and it removed the ailments that were plaguing him unknowingly. Yet, his conviction was unharmed. ¡°I was ¡®raining. See?¡± Rejo grinned through his tendrils while Joan was dumbstruck by his stunt. The man had poisoned himself to train. Worse yet, it seemed to hold results. Joan wasn¡¯t sure what that weird feeling she got as she approached him. She would have to also have a Qualae to be assured. Rejo? That¡¯s... is he actually smart? No, that¡¯s impossible. He¡¯s as dumb as rocks, good for only shooting and displacing. Still... he used his Stigma the most compared to everyone else. Hmm... I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on our dumbass. He might not be so stupid after all. By pulling Rejo by his pointed ear, Joan hauled the man all the way back to the ship before dumping him next to Lucius. The Araki shrugged and closed his eyes, once more meditating on the ice within him. Lucius and Joan both glanced down at him, not sharing a single word, while the soldier hefted a hefty panel over his shoulder. The doctor raised an eyebrow, following it with a question, ¡°Are you going to use it?¡± The soldier narrowed his eyes, and Sonna looked up from her book, ¡°Use what?¡± The second woman¡¯s curiosity was insatiable, eagerly hanging onto Lucius¡¯ word, but the man had a non-answer. ¡°The bathroom. Yes. Thank you for not just taking it,¡± Lucius, while light on the uptake and deft in mind, bore the weight while heading into the ship. Sonna perked her lips but didn¡¯t care for their drama more than her scarce moments of calm, returning to her only sanctuary of relaxation. Joan followed the man and leaned against an interior wall only a few feet from Archimedes. The young man was deep into his profession, welding together wires and pipes to finish up the fueling system that was damaged. ¡°Hmm? I know you have the Qualae. I used Rat to spy on Centurion Heron¡¯s men, and you two weren¡¯t all that discreet.¡± Joan boasted her Biotics as she could at every chance, and Lucius bowed his head slightly. Her explanation made sense to him. That ¡®Rat¡¯ of hers was so hard to detect. It made her the size of a rat, with all the wisdom of the wily doctor. With a sigh, the soldier had already thought of giving her the device, and in response to her insistence, he merely nodded, ¡°Sure. You seem like you want it. You can have it. But what¡¯s in it for me?¡± Joan¡¯s grin stretched out as she splayed one of her four hands outward, a violet vial in her palm. The liquid was steady within, but Lucius knew it wasn¡¯t ordinary in the slightest. Yet... it wasn¡¯t like the other three she had shown so far, Rat, Juggler, and Pouncer. It was something new, something novel. ¡°It¡¯s not finished yet. I need a test subject first, but I call it Brute. It will last for one hour and increase physicality drastically. It should... theoretically cause a normal man to match a Martian. Momentarily,¡± Joan explained her creation to Lucius, but the man wasn¡¯t so ready to believe her words. They were a team, yes, but Joan was always distant. He didn¡¯t want to be a ¡®test subject¡¯. ¡°Right. What are the side effects? What could go wrong? Is just one dose the payment? For a Qualae?¡± the soldier¡¯s hands waved with skepticism, but the woman seemed to have all the answers. She put up three of her hands and set one against her heart, ¡°I must ask you to trust me. Yes, there are side effects, but you should be able to deal with them. That is why I need a test subject. But we can¡¯t do it here. Any deaths or missing persons will be investigated severely. Though with your metabolism¡­¡± Lucius¡¯ eyebrows refused to lower, and as such, Joan sighed, opening up her mind even further, ¡°Fine. It¡¯ll likely lead to permanent muscle and bone loss, but I can negate that effect. I just need to perfect the serums. Rat makes one¡¯s spine perpetually damaged while Juggler does the same to the arms, but I¡¯ve created pills to neutralize such things.¡± Finally, the man saw her words. The power such a thing could grant would be massive. He had already seen how her Biotics allowed a powerless Harenlar like her to compete against Anaphages and even wound an Anarchy. For him... it¡¯d be a well-needed boost. ¡°Fine. But I don¡¯t just want one dose with the pills. I want three, and then I¡¯ll help you with this test subject. For now, though... give me it,¡± Lucius¡¯ conditions were stiff, but he knew where the limit lay. He could only ask for so much, as these Biotics were precious. Furthermore, he had no one else to sell to, so if Joan turned away, he¡¯d be screwed. Mercifully for Lucius, the doctor only bit her lip in frustration before conceding, ¡°I can do two. I don¡¯t have the materials for any more past the first, though. But I¡¯ll do you a favor and wait to make the second until it¡¯s perfected,¡± Joan spoke with a rare honesty. Then, she put out one of her left hands to seal the deal, and Lucius took her offer. A moment later, a midnight vial was in the man¡¯s hands while a luxurious box was in the woman¡¯s. Lucius was a soldier. While the effects could be lethal without the preparations, he¡¯d rather have an ace up his sleeve than none. At the same time, Joan¡¯s grin grew. She had wanted to wait until she perfected the Brute, but she thought she had gotten far enough. The Harenlar yearned to experiment with the Lightsea. She wanted to see what it held for her. With excitement clear in her cackling, she pried open the bizarre-shaped spherical box, leading to a shard of darkness lunging toward her, diving into her flesh, and vanishing inside. With a frown, she looked to Lucius, ¡°Is that normal?¡± The soldier shrugged, yet Joan appeared unfazed. A second passed after the sudden darkness filled the room, then two. Then three. At the fourth, Joan¡¯s eyes bulged, and she fell to her knees, clutching at her throat. Lucius could only lift one side of his lips, patting her on the back, ¡°Now, that¡¯s normal. I¡¯ve seen that before. The other three skipped this part. You though¡­ good luck inheriting a curse.¡± Then, the man walked away to continue Archimedes¡¯ repairs, leaving Joan to seize on the floor alone. 29 - The Waning Spirit NAME: Landon Gilword BIRTH: 3904 HOMEWORLD: Romul SECTOR: Primarch SPECIES: Tianshe HEIGHT: 6¡¯2" WEIGHT: 225 STIGMATA: Self-healing TIDE: Thermo DESIGNATION: Tidewalker MONIKER: Seething Wyrm DANGER: Red-Black COMMENTS: A master of Thermo, long studied and experienced. He has over fifty years of Praetorship and a wealth of power. Most notable feat: Fought the Drowned Dragon and survived, one of four living Praetors to do so. The forty-two cycled woman heaved for air, the sudden weight across her body disconcerting. Joan¡¯s eyes spun around the dark room she was in, coming to terms with the notion she was in a bed wrapped in blankets. Her arms thrashed against the cloth in a panic before she calmed herself, remembering where she was. Who put me in bed? Not that damned Martian. Was it Sonna? Maybe. It could have even been Rejo. Whatever. I¡ªI need to see what I got! Exhilaration drove the Harenlar as she ignored her prior fainting and drove her thoughts past the worries present, standing in a quick motion that left her lightheaded. She stumbled, raising a hand to her head while another palm held her against a wall. Something prickled within her mind, a newfound connection of a dispersed consciousness, but it was beyond her grasp, still raw and painful. What? Why am I... Sonna said those three felt fine when I asked her about it... Why am I different? Were their Qualae superior? Given Dante¡¯s luck... probably. The doctor groaned as her vision swam repeatedly, swinging locales and directions before her. She couldn¡¯t walk. Even so, her sharp mind pierced through the haze. Immediately, she stared at the hand against the wall, demanding the Lightsea to move. Joan could sense some, faint but persistent, and leveraged that sensation. Despite her willpower, the only thing that came as she focused was the black spots in her vision. The woman¡¯s legs gave out, subjecting her to gravity as she collapsed forward, missing the bed. Her head slammed into the steel floor, jarring and concussive, but with no permanent damage. Such was her estimation as she rolled onto her back, staring at the splotchy ceiling. There, she found out her own weakness, her own limits. Joan Rafe was not talented in the methods the Lightsea proposed. It was a simple conclusion; after all, Dante had used his Stigma seconds after inheriting his Qualae. Joan? By her estimations, it had been almost two days of unconsciousness for her based on the dehydration she felt. Someone took care of her, however, but not perfectly. Even so, she couldn¡¯t move an ounce of the fickle being. Worse yet, the darkness spread outward more, gradually consuming her vision as rapid footsteps resounded in her ears. Someone was coming. She smiled, a tingle in her unmoved heart. It had been many years since anyone cared for her. Joan¡¯s mind moved to her past as the lights dimmed. When... when was the last time someone ran for me like that? When... someone cared? Has anyone? Ever? I... don¡¯t think so. I... don¡¯t dislike this feeling. It¡¯s... warm... cozy... like a gestation pod. Depths... If only I could afford another one. Such a shame I wasted the medical miracle on Theodore. ¡°Oh, my! Joan! Are you alright!?¡± A face came close to the fading woman¡¯s; it seemed female in Joan¡¯s eyes. She smiled at Sonna¡¯s question, the minor movement causing more panic than it would on anyone else. After all, everyone knew Joan didn¡¯t smile. She only frowned. She was like Dante in that, but far worse. At least the human had emotions to show outwardly, though he suppressed many of them. Light slaps hit Joan¡¯s face to bring her back, but all it did was pull at the flesh of her grinning countenance, ¡°Joan! Wake up! Oh no... you¡¯re our doctor! Who... how...¡± More footsteps arrived, following Sonna¡¯s scream, and Rejo was the first on the scene. Though he said nothing, only twisting his head at the woman¡¯s body. Archimedes and Lucius were next, with the former surprisingly speaking first. ¡°Claudius. He¡¯d know. She¡ªshe¡ªshe took it, right? He¡¯d¡ªhe¡¯d know, right? Right?¡± The boy¡¯s voice stuttered and wavered, but he got the words out, a pat on his back from Lucius congratulating the success. Sonna¡¯s eyes hardened while Lucius rubbed his chin with his other hand. Both considered the issue. No one foresaw such a problem, especially not the soldier, as he thought Joan could handle the Qualae. All of Dante¡¯s other companions had them. No one else had such an incident. But to them, it appeared as though Joan was dying. Something within her¡­ rejected her. Her own body fought back against itself. After a swift check of Joan¡¯s pulse, Sonna glanced back up at the three behind her. The Harenlar¡¯s heart pulsed with a rabbit¡¯s swiftness, far too brisk to be sustained, ¡°He won¡¯t help us for free. And... do we really... want to?¡± The question in her voice hinted at something unspoken. The boy in the room didn¡¯t pick up on such things, but the Martian did, ¡°Hmm... While I don¡¯t like her, I feel some guilt,¡± Lucius knelt beside Joan with lackluster concern while Rejo seemed lost in thought, peering upward at the ceiling. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you say such a thing, however. I thought you liked the ¡®good¡¯ doctor.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Sonna shrugged, her shoulders sagging at such an exclamation, and she held a rebuttal, ¡°I... do. She¡¯s not that bad... sometimes even nice... But... is it worth it? The last and only time we spoke to him... we damn near died. And... Dante. Do we have time? Is this even something we need to bring to Claudius?¡± Lucius returned her indeterminate thoughts with an identical motion. Still, he had something to say, ¡°True. But we might as well call him. The worst that happens is he says fuck off.¡± A nod came from across the unconscious woman. Archimedes¡¯ stood beside the two of them, his gaze firmly locked upon Joan¡¯s eyelids, as if he saw something warring within. Yet the moment the two fell into agreement, Rejo burst out of his stupor, ¡°Yes! We will ¡®ave her from her plight! Our ¡®aptain will survive and ¡®eet us when the time is right!¡± Both Sonna and Lucius shared a glance with identical thoughts. Idiot. ¡°Do you have brain damage or something? Is that why the translator won¡¯t work?¡± Sonna retorted the manic ramblings swiftly, hitting the nail again on its head, ¡°This is a serious decision. We can¡¯t just pick randomly. And, plus, what happened to wanting to save Dante? You were the most fervent one?¡± Rejo¡¯s thumb pointed back at himself as he stood straight. The tendrils that hung around his mouth straightened outward like that of a star. The military-like stance bore the single most incomprehensible string of words Sonna, Lucius, or Archimedes had ever heard, ¡°He ¡®ont ¡®ver die! My ¡®ob is to ¡®ather ¡®is ¡®en! To ¡®nsure ¡®eir ¡®yalty! I¡¯m vice-captain!¡± A snort of laughter came from the child, his head flying back while the other two sane members of their crew groaned. They had never discussed who would be the captain of their ¡®crew¡¯, but it was clear Dante held that position. As for any other, no one really cared, but Sonna loathed to imagine Rejo representing them all. Despite her feelings on the subject, now was not the time to argue. Instead, she retrieved the communicator that Claudius had given the five before leaving them behind on Splendrous. After mashing a few buttons while Joan¡¯s body spasmed, the tone dialed across the stars. The technology hidden within the communicator was beyond them all, though API¡¯s mouth salivated at the thought of taking it apart. To the boy, it was more delectable than any meal he¡¯d ever eaten. Nonetheless, the noise continued for eight heart-pounding breaths. And then, a voice answered. *********************** Bullets tore into the cover. Claudius found himself behind, and he screamed at anyone who would listen, tearing out his vocal cords as he did so, ¡°Who the fuck taught Dirge to use firearms! Fucking idiots!¡± The battlefield the Judge found himself at was on an unnamed planet, though dubbed as Death¡¯s Cradle for all those that perished on its massive continents. The Juncture placed here was of high quality, allowing countless Dirge to spill through, but nothing above Anathema. Claudius was one of the few Judges present on the planet. Judges were too costly to create and toss into such warzones, but Claudius had requested it himself. Similarly, his Praetor approved it, citing in his file, ¡®He is weak. Let him enter his river¡¯. He admitted his lack of strength despite not understanding the Tianshe¡¯s point. Fighting Astraeus taught him that, not even noting the other monster that appeared. Claudius couldn¡¯t live with himself if he simply moved on with his life. Too many died. He might have never seen, talked to, or known of the vast majority of the dead, but that didn¡¯t matter to him. The weight of their souls fell upon him and him alone. And it was that terrible poundage that drove him forward. A back crashed into the trench beside Claudius, icy breath leaving his throat while new blades formed in his hands. Out of space itself, Eight mocked Claudius, ¡°What? You thought they wouldn¡¯t? Stupid. Not all have such destructive abilities as Astraeus as an Anathema. But don¡¯t worry. We have plenty of fodder to waste their ammo. After all, they can¡¯t make more!¡± The Judge seethed with frustration as he heard the cries of agony around him, the war tens of times worse than he could have imagined. Rosa, across from Claudius, nodded, offering only a strained smile, ¡°He¡¯s right. Let the little ones waste their supplies and energy. Only the Vector-2s and below fight like beasts. That Juncture up on Mount Spine spits out 3s all the time. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve even got a few 4s out here somewhere.¡± Claudius¡¯ mind widened at the sheer scale of death and destruction. Mount Spine was four hundred miles away. Four hundred miles. The army he was within had only gained two miles a day since he arrived. This means he had advanced two total miles. At this rate... how many would die? Again, the weight fell upon Claudius, and there were those who noticed such things. Yue exhaled steam, her body heating as she grew enraptured by the surrounding violence. Still, the Harenlar recognized Claudius¡¯ pain, ¡°Judge Vermillion. We can make a difference here. With Eight¡¯s Stigma and your Tide, we could appear in the middle of them and explode with power before vanishing.¡± ¡°Too risky. What if we¡¯re caught? Tossed into a Domain Collapse? It¡¯s rare for Anathema, but not too uncommon. Not worth it, in my opinion, Judge Vermillion. We should attempt to scale the surrounding mountains. Pick them off from the sides,¡± Talander opposed Yue on their perspectives, a common occurrence before the battlefield. Claudius brought a hand to his chin while three people anxiously stared at him. They were waiting, wanting to fight, desiring to grow stronger, needing to do something. All three wanted to help others, even if it may have been for their own personal gain. One, however, by the name of Eight, was not the same, ¡°No. We take things slow. Who cares if a million die before we reach that Juncture? What matters is that we are all safe. Okay? After all, this isn¡¯t the primary goal. Remember what Sun asked? We all need to be conditioned in less than sixty days.¡± The Judge heard all these words and concerns, but before he could respond to them, his communicator buzzed. Gunshots, mortars, and far worse, reminiscent of the old human wars before they claimed the stars, nearly beat out the noise. But the keen Tianshe still heard it. After retrieving the device, concerned it might have been Praetor Sun, Claudius stood stunned by reading the name on the contact. ¡®Sonna Hearal¡¯ He gave the crew an extra communicator, for while they weren¡¯t cheap, he wanted to keep in contact in case he required them. It had only been a few days, but they were in need of him? That didn¡¯t seem right to Claudius. His thoughts let the dial ring for several seconds before he took it, much to the anticipation of his own group, ¡°Hello? This is Claudius Vermillion. Why are you calling so soon, Sonna? Regret the decision?¡± The voice that came back through was crackled from the distance and the dissonance around them, ¡°Claudius? We need help.¡± The Anathemas that were on this planet restricted most technology with their incomplete Domains, but communicators like this could get through with appropriate amplifiers nearby. ¡°Hmm? What¡¯s the issue?¡± The Judge asked a simple question. He received a not-so-simple reply. ¡°So... that Qualae you gave Lucius. Joan took it, and... she¡¯s not doing so well. What can we do for her?¡± Sonna¡¯s tone was panicked, wrought with worry and concern for the doctor. A doctor that the Judge knew was wanted for murder and kidnapping. Still, he had no concrete proof. He could get it, with a simple touch, yes, but he was a man of his word. They had saved him and tried to save the planet. That earned them some leniency. Not infinite, though. Furthermore, he was persuaded that his choice of not forcing them to work with him was the right one. They were a mess. He didn¡¯t want to put them under his umbrella for risk of backlash. If they continued and strayed back into crime, he¡¯d come for them, however. While rubbing his brows, he pondered the situation. Fuck. They can¡¯t do anything right without him. The Harenlar took it? What chaos. She must be going through Tide Deviation. Her body cannot handle the connection to the Lightsea and is rejecting it subconsciously. What awful talent. Or... she¡¯s just unlucky. It can happen to anyone. What can we do here... no... what will they give in return for my help? Claudius¡¯ mind pivoted to benefits as he saw Eight rubbing his thumbs together with a grin. The teleporting Cryo then whispered low enough not to be picked up by the communicator, ¡°See? Fodder. Fifty-eight days. They can help us after they find their precious captain.¡± The Judge nodded as it made sense. These five were quite capable in a fight. Well, four, as Archimedes hadn¡¯t yet shown any battle-strength. But, if they could indeed find their captain... The chaotic lot could be wielded to tremendous might. A nearby mortar shell shook the earth above, showering them all in the dirt, but Claudius spoke as if nothing had happened, ¡°Come to Gladius C on November 1st. No questions asked, and I¡¯ll send you something that will help now. She should survive until it gets to you.¡± He was growing accustomed to this life with more haste than he imagined, though he wished he didn¡¯t have to. Silence held on the other side of the communicator. The five in the warzone knew their opposites were discussing the matter. Claudius knew they must have loathed the lack of agency. But he didn¡¯t care all that much. If he was going to spend his prized credits on a Soul Suppressor to heal Joan, then he needed to get something from it. After all, Claudius wasn¡¯t sure what was going to go down that day or the following sunsets. All he knew was that he wanted some allies. After a minute of tense silence, Sonna¡¯s voice spoke with a crackling Rejo in the background, ¡°We can do that. Please send it quickly. ¡®ey! Le¡ª¡± The line muted itself as a button pressed inward on the side bearing the ill woman. Claudius smiled, the grin on his lips spreading to both sides as he upped his chances of returning his family to their status. Now, they had better somehow get that human, or else Claudius would just have to set the five free onto their enemies and hope they were up to notch. The Judge didn¡¯t know how they would. Yet he needed them to, for he could only rely on the human to wrangle that group. Frankly, he was pretty sure Dante was already dead. But some part of him, the one that held his Stigma, spoke of another past, and he knew to trust it wholeheartedly. There were some people too wily to kill. Claudius wasn¡¯t sure if he wished Dante Penance to be one of those few or not. 30 - The First Morn What are Seers? Psions? Beyond their capabilities, I don¡¯t know. Records say they existed since the dawn of even humanity, the eldest space-farers. But where do they come from? In who do they awaken? Is it fate? Chance? A stroke of impossibility? Who knows. All we know is that Seers are too wise to risk, and Psions are too clever for their own good. A wonderous thing I am the latter. Daylight streamed through the window, forcing Dante¡¯s eyes open and pulling him from his slumber. The cold, metallic air lingered on Dante¡¯s tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sunlight piercing through the room. Groaning, he awoke, momentarily stunned by the dawn, but then he noticed the lack of noise. No birds. No cars. No starships. Just silence. Just an empty world. The silence of the dead city pressed in on him, amplifying the sound of his own breath, his own heartbeat. It was almost unbearable. Worse yet, he had to work with the being that caused it all. While gnashing his teeth, Dante pushed himself up from the extravagant bed, the fine linens clinging to his skin, thereafter spreading out his arms to stretch. As he did so, Dante noticed he felt terrific. Excellent, in fact. If he were to guess, he was in the best shape of his life. How? He had almost perished the last time he was awake. Dante clenched his fist. The memory of the Hydro burst was still fresh, the power still there. He just had to find it once more. It was the very same attack that managed to actually damage Thanaris. It was slight. Nevertheless, it existed. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his hand trembled as he flexed it into a fist, for he knew he was not without hope. That moment, seeing his power affect the Caesar, a Caesar, changed everything. He had proof¡ªhe could hurt them. The odds were still terrible, but for the first time, he knew there was a way forward. Dante was never afraid of poor odds. He enjoyed changing the game to flip them. I can do this. I... I don¡¯t need to freak out. That... episode was something else. But... Thanaris was right. What she did, that Trial, pushed me beyond my limits. I am still terrified of her, but I can go through it now. I think. The human strode forward, exiting the room he found himself in and heading straight for the Caesar. Somehow, he could sense her. She was like a blinding light within the depths of the governmental building, tearing into Dante¡¯s eyes that existed supernaturally. While squinting in near-pain, he opened the double doors to the room where Thanaris lay. Her gaze sliced through him, but he steadied himself after a moment, shoulders straightening as he regained his composure, long resigned to death. The Caesar noticed his improvement, ¡°Wonderful. We can have a proper talk now. I am already glad I didn¡¯t cut you in half when we met,¡± Thanaris waved a hand out before her, welcoming Dante to the long table. ¡°Sit and refuel.¡± On the said table were heaps of food, none of it cooked, simply removed from whichever freezer or fridge it was in. Fortunately, none of the nutrients had been out for long, and Dante swiftly dived into the ice cream and frozen beef, knowing he would need the calories. It was an odd choice, yes, but Dante didn¡¯t care. He was starving, so much so that he¡¯d listen to Thanaris without complaint. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, you¡¯ll head out. I can¡¯t move without drawing attention, something that cannot happen for now. So, you and Astraeus will go on my behalf past Sauron¡¯s Quarry. That also means no starships, as we don¡¯t want you to be attacked by my kin,¡± Thanaris leaned forward, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret while the man ate his well-earned meal. Despite her plans, Dante held a pressing issue. He understood she wanted him to do or get some object or piece of information out in the stars somewhere, but he needed to know the what. He also needed the how of his travel. Dante swallowed a bite of frozen meat, his throat tight as he asked, ¡°You¡¯re sending me into the Lost Reaches with no backup? Just me and Astraeus? And... with no jumps, how is that possible?¡± The Caesar nodded before leaning over the table and opening her palm. The Unnatural Tide flowed crimson across her hands before blooming into a pained flower. Somehow, to Dante¡¯s eyes, it seemed to possess roiling flames across its petals. ¡°Yes. About that... It will take a little while. At least a month, but I can wrap you both up in my Tide and shove you into the Lightsea to travel manually. More dangerous typically, but you¡¯re... not heading into a safe region of space in the first place.¡± The bloody rose continued to grow, gradually reaching the size of a sapling in Thanaris¡¯ hand as if soaking in the words for strength. Dante bit his lip at her information, immediately imagining where he would be sent. It was the outer segments of the Wings, where law and order ceased to exist, or a fallen Sector. Neither of which would be pleasant to visit. The former he had experienced, though, so he had hoped it was not the latter. Unfortunately for the human, Thanaris bore a damning sentence, ¡°The Lost Reaches are ancient, covered with remnants from bygone eras. I am after a... treasure that is growing there,¡± she stood from the table, placing sanguine roots onto the wooden frame. ¡°You see, Dante, the Lightsea is not the only source of power out there.¡± The roots nimbly bulged out, spreading further and stabbing into the splinters split outward as if to paint a picture for Dante. Alongside the damage, the Caesar explained herself, ¡°Our Lightsea is the largest, not the only. The Inferose is another, detected to be in the depths of the Lost Reaches. While limited to a Caesar¡¯s strength in overall power, it¡¯s still a dimensional entity. We don¡¯t know its exact location, and the main goal here was to have a stable ground to search more in-depth.¡° If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The Lightsea, the lifeblood of this universe, was thought to be the only dependable source of power for the human. Now, that belief was crumbling. He was, of course, aware of other dimensional abnormalities, but he thought the Lightsea was the only one that was important. It was beyond his imagination that such a place would garner Thanaris¡¯ intrigue. Again, he opened his mouth to speak but shut it, seeing that Thanaris was not yet done. Her grin widened further as if already having the image of Dante acquiring what she wanted him to. ¡°You¡¯ll find it for me,¡± Thanaris said, her voice low and dangerous to match those bloody lips. ¡°And when you do, this side of the galaxy will shift. A figure will stand just below a Celestial.¡± Despite the strength in his limbs, a chill ran down his spine at the thought of what was waiting in the Lost Reaches. Finally seeing a chance, he asked a question while Thanaris wandered to the doorway, ¡°Okay. How am I not obliterated by someone like you?¡± The grand Caesar chuckled softly, covering her mouth with a slender hand, ¡°I¡¯ll handle the Caesars and anyone else who is feeling lucky. You just worry about the Anathemas. You and Astraeus should make quite the team.¡± She turned to leave, but Dante called after her, his voice sharp, remembering her promise not to threaten his life anymore, ¡°And what do I get?¡± She said he was her ally. That must mean something. Her voice echoed back to him through the empty halls, dripping with promise, ¡°Anything you claim that is not the core of the dimensions is all yours.¡± The words sank into Dante¡¯s mind as he sat in front of his food, silent and lost in thought. This was an opportunity. A massive one. While forced into it, the man could recognize the possibilities of entering such a realm. It must be erroneously rare to be chosen for something of this caliber. One might have even said Dante was lucky. It would be the most dangerous mission of his life. The reward? So worth it. If the dimension itself holds the power of a Caesar... how much can I claim? What can I earn? I do not know. Yet... Dante¡¯s heart beat with excitement, something he wasn¡¯t aware he could feel for such an event. The risk was massive. Even so, the human already saw himself as dead. This was an afterlife of sorts, a chance to claw his way back into the world of the living. Dante was not a person to shirk from risk, let alone when the alternative was certain death. Though he wasn¡¯t a gambler, mindlessly betting on luck. He would find his own strength and develop what he already had to increase his chances. The attack he released against Thanaris was something he couldn¡¯t freely replicate. However, it was now a game changer. If he had possessed that against Astraeus, the Anathema would have died before unlocking his Domain Collapse. Of that, Dante was assured. His heart raced further with hopes of the morrow. He was already dead¡ªwhat did he have to lose? In his rush to find Astraeus, he slammed his feet to the ground and pushed the chair back in careless haste. A few minutes later, Dante knocked on a well-furnished door. Surprisingly, it opened with minor delay, the Anathema standing on the other side. Even more to Dante¡¯s awe, however, Astraeus looked different as he got a long, up-close look at him. Astraeus¡¯ form was almost human¡ªbroad shoulders, a perfectly tailored suit clinging to his tall frame. But the longer Dante looked, the more the illusion frayed. Beneath the surface, thousands of tiny, shifting dots rippled and swirled, never settling in one place. It was as if his body were constantly unmaking and remaking itself, a creature struggling to hold shape. Like his body, Astraeus¡¯ face yawed, never staying still. His amorphous eyes flickered with light, struggling to hold form, while his jawline reshaped itself with the glance downward at Dante. The tiny dots rippled, mimicking human expressions¡ªa brow furrowed one moment, a faint smirk the next¡ªbut they never lingered, like a mask in constant flux. The external emotions of the Dirge were always in flux, like a painting undone by the sea¡¯s tide. It seemed Astraeus wished to maintain the illusion of humanity but never truly succeeded. Dante¡¯s silence only deepened Astraeus¡¯ irritation. He stepped closer, his dotted face hovering inches from Dante¡¯s face, ¡°What do you want? I¡¯m busy training. Her Majesty is sending us on a vital mission to compete with the other Caesars. I will not let her down.¡± The human raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t fall back. Still, his trembling fingers fell into the crossed figure he held against Thanaris. Dante had learned to embrace his fears, but they still lingered like specters. ¡°Is that so? Why don¡¯t we train together? We are going to be a duet, after all,¡± Dante offered a smile, the man reaching with his open hand while holding clenched fingers behind his back. Those hidden fingers trembled slightly, a quiet reminder of the fear that clung to him, even now. He had broken past it, yet it remained a barrier he would be often reminded of. Astraeus¡¯ face warped into a crown of confusion for a split second before it sighed, losing much of its momentum. The Anathema agreed passively as he retreated into his room, ¡°Sure. I suppose you were the instrument for my loss. But I don¡¯t see how you could¡ª¡± All of a sudden, a strand of water emerged from Dante¡¯s forefinger and middle talon as he motioned his hand toward the distant wall. He pointed toward the far wall, pouring every ounce of concentration into the Lightsea¡¯s pull. They offered only a silent prayer, sharing no of chant or rhythm to follow. Work! Damnit! As if to prove his resolve, the water erupted, slicing clean through the wall with a deafening crack, splitting it in two. The jagged opening revealed the other side, dust settling in the aftermath. Dante smirked, his confidence swelling. ¡°I passed the Rite Of Fear.¡± Astraeus¡¯ stunned expression told Dante everything he needed. The shock in his companion¡¯s eyes fueled him even further. The Anathema¡¯s eyes widened. For a moment, his expression faltered¡ªsurprise, maybe even respect¡ªbut it was quickly replaced with his usual aloofness.¡±You have grown. Demonstrably. I like it. We might just stand a real chance at this." Turning around, he waved for the human to follow him¡ªpast the shredded wall and scattered paintings. As soon as Astraeus was out of sight, Dante exhaled sharply, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. He doubled over, hands on his thighs, cursing under his breath. He cursed himself as he finally understood just how difficult Tides were to master. Fuck. It felt like he¡¯d run a marathon. Still, his mind raced with potential solutions. Do I use my Stigma? No. I... I need to push through this. It¡¯ll hone my skills by using it again. And... Judas has been quiet. Don¡¯t want to wake him. With all the resilience in his body, Dante arched his back in reverse and stood straight. Then he followed wearily after Astraeus. A moment later, he stood in a stark white room with bare concrete walls that echoed every sound. The emptiness of the space seemed to heighten the tension between them as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Astraeus sat in the middle, legs crossed and his hands placed closely against each other. Within the center, a bubble of energy from the Lightsea itself seemed to squirm. Dante recognized what this was without a word from his ¡®companion¡¯ to detail it. A Domain. It was incomplete, barely extending beyond Astraeus¡¯ claws. But that made sense¡ªthe Anathema had only just unraveled this power. Still, through his focus, Astraeus seemed to respect Dante in some way after his showcase of potential without lifting his head. ¡°I hope one day to see your Domain Collapse. After all, I still don¡¯t know what your Stigma is. But that doesn¡¯t matter. What does is that you can be consequential to my battles ahead. We have one month. Let¡¯s get to work.¡± Dante took the words as acknowledgment and sat across from the Anathema. While looking at the shifting blobs on Astraeus¡¯ face, however, he couldn¡¯t help but open his mouth, ¡°Why are you so reverent of her? You treat her like a queen.¡± The Domain flickered in the hands of the Vector-4, struggling to contain such power. He didn¡¯t want to settle for releasing it as it was; he wanted to condense it, to imbue it with his meaning, and that required a colossal level of focus and dedication. His loyalty shone through the haze. The rotating eyes held a brilliant light despite its darkness, a feat that Dante found unorthodox, ¡°That is because she is one. More than that, though, she is the reason I¡¯m alive. Our shared... benefactor of sorts brought her to save me, or so she said. Most other Caesars would have killed me without a thought, useless as I was. But...¡± The Domain tightened to a pinnacle, concentrating beyond the limit of reality, and an event horizon formed, inundating reality with the truth of Astraeus¡¯ soul. ¡°Domain Collapse: Inverted Palace.¡± Space contorted, it distorted, and it shelved away everything Dante knew. The closer one was to Astraeus, the worse the distortion became. However, that wasn¡¯t the genuine effect of this Domain. Dante lost connection to the Lightsea, only possessing the remnants that he had within him before the event horizon formed before him. Dante¡¯s breath caught in his throat as space bent around them, reality warping under Astraeus¡¯ control. He hated to admit it, but the power was more than awe-inspiring. It was terrifying and blood-pumping all at once. Astraeus¡¯ voice softened when he mentioned his past, the swirling dots of his face briefly settling into something almost human. ¡°She taught me many things, including how to do this. As such... when she asked me on a suicidal mission, for all the other Anathemas already possessed stronger DCs, I could only accept. While I failed in many ways... I suspect she is happy we found you.¡± The two were pushed forward by something behind them, and they could not refuse, much like Dante. Yet even still... they were not like him. They enjoyed the slaughter, the murder, and the destruction. He couldn¡¯t help but admire Astraeus¡¯ skill, but that didn¡¯t change what he was. A killer. A monster. And yet¡­ Dante wasn¡¯t so sure he was all that different anymore. The man still could hardly look at himself in the mirror. Yet he refused to accept he was anywhere near as awful as these creatures. Nonetheless, he, too, couldn¡¯t wait to see what his Domain Collapse might entail. Unfortunately, the man knew he was a long way from such a thing. As far as he knew, a Domain Collapse was the requirement for a Praetor, two whole levels above the strongest sentient he knew. Concentration befell Dante, and he set himself upon his training. Before he left, he aspired to use his piercing water twice before exhaustion. Impossible? Maybe. But Dante had beaten impossible odds before. In fact, he had done it just days prior. 31 - Waters Shall Harden What do we call a group of Dirge? Well, isn¡¯t it obvious? A murder, of course. That¡¯s all they know how to do, after all. Days passed in a brutal, uneasy tranquility. Dante trained relentlessly, practicing the Tides alongside Astraeus, all the while studying the peculiar Anathema. His skills improved in dramatic amounts in the brief span, but he still struggled¡ªhe could only execute his best move once before his strength faltered. While his general manipulation of Hydro had increased, and he could now conjure water whenever needed, he lacked consistent power or any other technique. The room wouldn¡¯t hold if Astraeus unleashed his full power, but that wasn¡¯t the focus today. He wasn¡¯t conditioning his Stigma or flexing his monstrous body. No, his attention was entirely on refining his Domain Collapse, honing it for precision. As it stood, Astraeus needed both hands and closed eyes to invoke the technique. Thanaris had dismissed this as inefficient, ¡°Simmer,¡± she had said, ¡°Don¡¯t think about its power or range. If you can¡¯t summon it effortlessly, it¡¯s worthless. The truly powerful can collapse the Lightsea with a single hand in a single moment.¡± In order to prove her point, Thanaris had demonstrated it herself. She unleashed her Domain, bloody waves rippling across an entire planet, detonating its immense power with just a clenched fist. Astraeus absorbed the lesson, while Dante was left awestruck even a day later. Now, as Dante sat beside his ¡®companion,'' that incredible display of might echoed in his mind. Though he still loathed the creature, he began to understand Astraeus more with each passing day. Yet, with every answer, a thousand new questions surfaced. Eventually, Dante couldn¡¯t hold back his questions any longer. He didn¡¯t want to hate Astraeus. He did¡ªthere was no denying that¡ªbut... As Dante studied the roiling dots on Astraeus¡¯ face, he could see the raw obsession within. Astraeus fixated on his Domain, the next stage in his evolution. That kind of relentless focus was something Dante rarely respected in others. Dedicating your entire being to one pursuit was a rare gift. Even so, he was watching it unfold in someone else. Dante¡¯s most significant strength had always been his ability to block out distractions, focus through the chaos, and find clarity. Sure, Nullify helped¡ªbut he knew he could reach that state on his own if shoved hard enough. He couldn¡¯t hold back any longer. He had to know. As Astraeus failed another attempt at his Inverted Palace, Dante leaned forward, locking eyes with him, ¡°Astraeus... why do you kill people?¡± The Dirge didn¡¯t even flinch at the sudden question. The swirling dots on his twisted form minimally shifted as he shrugged, answering with casual indifference, ¡°Because they¡¯re in my way. It¡¯s not a big deal. They¡¯re just animals without power.¡± Astraeus¡¯ words hit Dante like a switch being flipped. He sat up straighter, a new understanding dawning, ¡°So, to you, creatures without power are meaningless?¡± Astraeus nodded without hesitation, ¡°Yeah. They¡¯re weak. The weak are culled so the strong can grow stronger.¡± Dante bit his lip, weighing his words carefully. Astraeus didn¡¯t seem evil¡ªhis view of the world felt more¡­ childlike. Morally skewed, yes, but through a black-and-white lens. He pointed to himself, ¡°Can¡¯t the weak become strong?¡± His hand trembled slightly as he recalled the story of his birth, ¡°My parents were stranded on a debris field for a year after their ship was destroyed. I was born there¡ªno home, no power, no money. Just a will to survive.¡± Astraeus¡¯ eyes flicked to Dante¡¯s hand, then to his eyes, and finally to the wall, where remnants of Dante¡¯s earlier power lingered. His mind seemed to stutter, struggling to comprehend such an origin for the human. When Astraeus finally spoke, his voice was firm, ¡°No. Your father must have been strong. Or your mother. The weak cannot be strong. Some are simply strong but haven¡¯t realized it yet.¡± Dante shook his head sharply, refusing to accept the black-and-white logic. Strength wasn¡¯t that simple. It was a spectrum, shifting and fluid. One moment, you can be invincible. The next? A weakness discovered and exploited. He needed Astraeus to see that, ¡°No, no, no. My father wasn¡¯t anyone special. Just a smuggler, like me. And my mom? Worse¡ªan illegal whore who survived the attack on their ship. I¡¯m not special. Commoners can become strong. If I took away your connection to the Lightsea, you¡¯d be weak.¡± The notion of losing his power hit Astraeus like a stone sinking into the ocean, a narrow blip followed by a long dive. The currents of his mind fought to erode it, to wash it away, but the weight of the thought was too heavy, too significant. It plunged deeper into Astraeus¡¯ mind, and his mouth murmured at such a volume that Dante could hardly hear, ¡°... Chase the dragon...¡± Dante¡¯s eyes widened. Chase the dragon? That phrase meant something absolutely different in his world¡ªchasing an unattainable high, the first rush from a drug. Unreachable. Impossible. It made no sense. How would Astraeus know about that? The confusion gnawed at him, and he couldn¡¯t hold back the question, ¡°What do you mean? Chase the dragon?¡± Severity was ever-present in the human¡¯s voice, demanding an answer. The Anathema shrugged, unsure of where he heard it first, ¡°Don¡¯t know where it comes from, but Master said it to me when we first met. Dragons were ancient creatures likened to the Gods themselves. It means to seek their strength, however impossible. I thought she was telling me to reach for her level of strength, but...¡± A pair of eyes widened upon noticing Astraeus¡¯ comprehension. Dante¡¯s heart raced as he finished the words presented, ¡°... she wants you to aim higher. Just as the weak can grow, so can you, Astraeus. Why settle for being a Caesar?¡± Astraeus¡¯ unknown core accelerated, his breathing becoming labored as his imagination roamed free. He looked down at his abyssal flesh, the claws in his hands tightening. ¡°A Celestial? She thinks I can rise that high?¡± The awe in Astraeus¡¯ voice was unabated, pure and genuine. Dante grinned, feeling sincere excitement for the Dirge, but he stopped himself, cursing inwardly. What am I doing? Am I really smiling at such a thing? This is a monster. But... Maybe he just needs some direction. A little push here or there. He seems to be controlled somehow by a figure in the Lightsea, yet he still has his own mind. He can think for himself. That¡¯s enough for me. ¡°I believe so. I believe anyone can. They merely need the right opportunities to work themselves to the bone and then scrape it off. They have to... chase the dragon,¡± Dante reconciled the phrase with his current situation, finding it fitting, if admittingly stinging, to say it aloud. Then, without letting Astraeus say another word or ponder another word, Dante hit the nail on the head, ¡°That means whenever you kill a weakling, you are killing someone with that potential. The weak and strong aren¡¯t so black and white. They are people. With thoughts. Ambitions. Strengths that you may not even be aware of.¡± The figure before Dante had its face spiraling all over, unsure of its thoughts. Astraeus¡¯ mind struggled to wrap itself around the ideas told to him, but it couldn¡¯t find anything wrong with them. After all, he was only an adolescent of his kind, not yet reaching his full potential or mind. Dante continued, thinking back to his own crew, those that he had given his life to save. He found them weak. But... they had so much potential, and would prove it, ¡°That young boy. Archimedes. Remember him? He is pitifully weak. A stray dog could kill him. But... you give him a month to play with his electronics? An army would cry in terror.¡± As he stood, the human offered a hand to his enemy. They didn¡¯t have to always be like this. There could be more to their relationship. Dante wasn¡¯t so opposed to befriending a monster now that he had met him.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The offered hand came with a lengthy, heartfelt admission of promise, ¡°The same is with the doctor and the Weren. The former has the knowledge to change one¡¯s biochemistry at the core, turning a man into a rat or the opposite. Sonna? She¡¯s a genius with Tides. Even Lucius. That Martian went toe-to-toe with you without a Qualae. Imagine if he had one? And Rejo... well, He¡¯s a little different. He¡¯s with me because I trust him. You could join us.¡± Astraeus scoffed, gripping Dante¡¯s hand and pulling himself to his feet, but rejected the offer without a second thought, ¡°No. I am Master¡¯s blade. I¡¯ll become strong for her. The weak will still be culled. But... I¡¯m not blind. Snow is my element. I can see it now¡ªthose I killed weren¡¯t animals. They were you, just without a paddle to steer through the sea. Regardless¡­ if Master gives me an order, I will fulfill it.¡± Despite the refusal, Dante felt a quiet relief. Astraeus wasn¡¯t illogical after all. When they had first met, he seemed like a mindless predator, but now Dante realized he had just been playing with toys. Insignificant, fragile toys. What young child wouldn¡¯t laugh while breaking their toys? It was hard for most people to seize such a concept, but Dante¡¯s mind was malleable, as being tied to water didn¡¯t just make him adaptable¡ªit defined him. Flexibility. Fluidity. Such was his nature. Those of Steam were elusive, always slipping through one¡¯s grasp. Those of Ice were blunt, forceful, and prone to violence. Dante fit seamlessly within his element, and as he regarded Astraeus, he allowed himself a smile. There was more he could get with this newfound connection, ¡°That¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll work well together, at the very least. Now, do you have any techniques you could teach me?¡± ¡°No! Hahahaaha! You think you fleshies can handle our techniques! Hahaha! That¡¯s hilarious. Man... you truly know nothing,¡± while wiping a nonexistent tear from his ¡®eyelid,¡¯ Astraeus shook his head faintly. The monster still hid beneath the facade, but Dante now saw the other creature inside. Astraeus wasn¡¯t a mindless monster. He was more like a child, scarcely older than Archimedes¡ªif that. A child who could be taught. A child who could laugh. A child who could¡­ be inspired. These Dirge... what are they? Monsters? I¡¯m not so sure anymore. Maybe... maybe they are just different lifeforms from the rest of us. A more profound one. Still, Dante felt a surge of pride rise in him as he smirked. He extended his hand, a challenge hanging on his breath, ¡°Are you so sure? We humans are more durable than you could imagine. Poisons. Gravity. Oxygen deprivation. Starvation. Dehydration. Exhaustion. Sleep. In nearly every category, we outshine the rest of the stars. Not perfect. But we do not live. We slowly die.¡± ¡°Fine then. How about you try Surewinter?¡± Astraeus snorted, though the suggestion held a seriousness he didn¡¯t offer lightly¡ªnot before meeting Dante. Dante shrugged, willing to do whatever it took to grow stronger, ¡°Sure. What is it? How do I learn?¡± He looked around, half-expecting to find some tool or ancient book tied to the technique, but there was nothing. Astraeus pointed to his head with a sharpened talon, ¡°It¡¯s in here. Passed down from my Master¡¯s Master. Surewinter is a body reinforcement technique that we, Anathemas, use. Some of the Caesars, too. Not my Master, though.She learned it but then created her own. Now come.¡± Astraeus twisted his body, heading toward the wall of the room with a reinforced steel bench, and motioned for Dante to sit. The human did as directed, both eager and inwardly worried about what was to come. Snowflakes emerged from the Anathema¡¯s palm as if to show the technique, ¡°Coldness tempers the water. It makes it hard. Firm. Strong. It will... allow you to chase the dragon if, by some miracle, you succeed.¡± Dante stared as the flakes fell from Astraeus¡¯ hand. They were delicate yet burdened by a chill that seemed to freeze the air itself. This was Frigo. Snow. The Tide found between Hydro and Cryo. The temperature plummeted, biting into Dante¡¯s skin as Astraeus¡¯ Tide spread through the room. His muscles tightened instinctively, bracing for the cold that would soon seep into his core. Despite the creeping dread, Dante¡¯s hunger for power only grew. He had to be strong. He refused to be one of the powerless creatures that Astraeus¡ªor any Dirge¡ªwould slaughter. The human wouldn¡¯t allow it. ¡°Surewinter,¡± Astraeus began, his voice cold and steady, ¡°Isn¡¯t merely enduring the frigidness. It¡¯s about becoming the cold, allowing the chill to temper you. Like fire would a blade. It is... agony.¡± Astraeus stepped closer, the frost from his breath hanging in the air as he unleashed the full force of his Tide, ¡°Your kind practices gentler techniques, ones that don¡¯t tear at the body. Do you really think you can handle this? Even some of my kin have broken under it.¡± Dante nodded, swallowing achingly as the saliva in his mouth froze, ¡°I¡¯ll try. I need to.¡± Astraeus¡¯ mouth curled into a half-smile, half-snarl. Despite their new understanding, Dante¡¯s self-confidence still grated on the Dirge, ¡°You won¡¯t just try. You¡¯ll either endure, or you¡¯ll break. Master would disapprove of this, but... you¡¯ve got that Stigma.¡± The monster knelt beside Dante, his shape towering as petals of white continued to spiral lazily from his outstretched hand, ¡°Surewinter is the path of pain. It is utterly opposed to your people¡¯s roads. That is why we, Dirge, are physically superior in nearly every match. But it does not originate from the cold of the outer world; it comes from within, drawn from the Lightsea, deep in your core.¡± Dante¡¯s heart pounded as he inhaled the biting chill that radiated from Astraeus. It was painful¡ªa mere glimpse of what was to come. But Dante didn¡¯t fear pain. He¡¯d endured more than most in his limited life. Through this, he knew that only through pain could true strength be forged. Astraeus¡¯ sharp eyes glimmered as he noticed Dante¡¯s resolve, the human¡¯s eyes hardening, his back straightening as the snowy air thickened around them, ¡°Every Dirge technique comes from the Lightsea. Every single one. And this is no different. The cold doesn¡¯t just cover you, Dante.¡± The Anathema crouched, his eerie eyes leveling with Dante¡¯s as he continued, ¡°It consumes you. It devours the heat from your life and replaces it with the raw, unforgiving cold of the Lightsea. You¡¯ll feel your body harden, your muscles straining against the frost, your breath freezing in your lungs.¡± ¡°And this? It¡¯s just for your body. You¡¯ll be resistant to cold. Faster. Stronger. Not a lot at first. But it adds up. The second step is where the fun begins,¡± Atraeus¡¯ eyes tracked the packing snow as it fell, but the cold gradually slowed its descent as the future was told. The Dirge signaled for Dante to brace himself, pulling back the swirling snow as the room fell into a still, chilling silence. Dante¡¯s fingers trembled as he clenched his fists, doubt flickering at the edges of his mind¡ªbut he pushed it away. He had survived Thanaris¡¯ Trial. This couldn¡¯t be worse. With slow, deliberate precision, Astraeus placed his hand over Dante¡¯s chest, ¡°Say these words in your mind. Reach for the Lightsea. And follow my lead,¡± The touch was like plunging into the depths of a frozen sea. Dante¡¯s entire body shuddered under the icy claw. As Astraeus¡¯ touch seeped into Dante¡¯s core, his vision darkened, and the words whispered to him echoed in his mind. There was nothing but the cold¡ªand the meaning it carried. ¡°In the depths where silent streams decay, Beneath endless tides, motion gives way to stillness. Through cold¡¯s embrace, this mortal shell fades, To seize the ancient hoarfrost, where worlds are lost.¡± Dante gasped as air tore from his lungs. A sizzling frost devoured the oxygen, replacing it with a devouring white. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just the burn of ice on skin or snow in the air. This was the cold of an incomprehensible realm, a dimension that absorbed heat but never grew warm, no matter how much it took. With Astraeus¡¯ guidance, Dante pushed closer to its currents. ¡°Feel that?¡± Astraeus¡¯ voice sounded distant, muffled, as though coming through a wall of ice. ¡°That¡¯s just the start. Surewinter will seize your warmth, and if you¡¯re not careful, it will take everything. Focus. I¡¯ll force it all to stop when you¡¯re close to death.¡± Dante¡¯s mind cried for him to stop, to pull away. Every instinct told him to abandon this madness, to listen to reason. But he didn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t. His body was locked in place, not just by the freezing cold but by sheer willpower, forcing him to endure the agony. His joints stiffened, every part of him frozen in place as he was more fragile porcelain than a person. Astraeus grinned, his dotted eyes alight with something close to satisfaction, though Dante couldn¡¯t see it, ¡°Now, take control. If you cannot clasp your hands and take from the Lightsea, allowing the hoar to take root, then you shall fail. Now, don¡¯t push this if you want Frigo or Cryo. Things don¡¯t work like that. This is body enhancement, not Tide-altering.¡± Dante obeyed as best he could. He moved his arms a few inches toward each other while his mind reached for the Lightsea. The connection, however, was remote and difficult to achieve, locked behind Astraeus¡¯ snow. The Inverted Palace made sense to Dante at this moment. It was a manifestation of Astraeus¡¯ Frigo, yet also a reflection of his worldview. He saw the powerless as nothing but trash, and his Domain turned his enemies into just that¡ªworthless animals. But right now, that epiphany didn¡¯t matter. Dante¡¯s muscles screamed as icy tendrils wrapped around his ribs, crawling up his spine like frost spreading over a starship¡¯s hull. ¡°It¡¯s in your mind now,¡± Astraeus said quietly, his hand still pressed against Dante¡¯s chest, his voice laced with an alien concern. ¡°Shall we stop? I meant to teach you a lesson in pride, but this is getting dangerous.¡± As Astraeus spoke, the deep chill sank further into Dante¡¯s mind. His thoughts slowed, his body responding with sharp, stabbing aches. The cold wasn¡¯t just on the surface or the depths anymore¡ªit was burrowing into every morsel of his being. Dante¡¯s breath came in ragged, painful bursts. Each inhale felt like shards of glass slicing through his throat, freezing his blood as it flowed. His fingers were numb, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs as the cold drained more from him than he had to give. The agony was indescribable. Every second stretched into an eternity as if the cold itself slowed time. But beneath the pain, Dante sensed something else. It was a state he craved. The one he chased relentlessly with Nullify. It was... the dragon. The frost inched its way through everything in Dante¡¯s mind. It felt almost... pure. The pain had a strange clarity to it, a focus. It stripped him down, tearing away the excess, the distractions, freezing the unnecessary motions. The agony shattered the meaningless, leaving only his core¡ªcold, sharp, and honed like a blade forged from ice. At that moment of clarity, Dante¡¯s fingertips touched, and the Lightsea surged toward him, roaring through his body like a tidal wave. The force was so overwhelming that he barely registered Astraeus¡¯ panicked shouts. ¡°What the¡ª!? Stop! You¡¯ll die! Stop! Master!¡± Astraeus¡¯ voice echoed through the estate, but Dante¡¯s fingers only tightened, mechanical in their precision, as the augments in his body shuddered and whirred. Through gritted teeth, with icicles forming at the corners of his mouth, Dante managed a smirk, ¡°See? I got this. Easy peasy.¡± Astraeus glanced down to find Dante grinning up at him, frozen tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, with crimson-tinged slush dripping from his nose. Astraeus recognized something, a hint of impossibility in what was occurring. A moment later, Dante released his grip and coughed out a mixture of snow, ice, and melting water. His body was dangerously cold¡ªhypothermic¡ªbut he knew he only had moments left before it overtook him. That would¡¯ve been true if he hadn¡¯t finished cycling the technique. Astraeus had mentioned it before, as a beginner needed only to grasp the hoar within the Lightsea. The dimension held countless minor attributes, and Dante had found one, using it to augment his own body. Through the agony, Dante managed another grin, pounding his chest to force himself to breathe easier. He glanced down at his right hand, sinking it deep into the snow beneath him. Once his hand sank into the frost, Dante laughed. The sound was light, but it wasn¡¯t brief. It echoed in Astraeus¡¯ stunned ears and reverberated throughout the plain room. Dante¡¯s hands weren¡¯t cold anymore. The ice was just another tool to wield. He might not have Frigo or Cryo. But he¡¯d learn how to use them and how to fight them, all the while evolving his form. 32 - As Iron Sharpens Iron NAME: UNKNOWN BIRTH: UNKNOWN HOMEWORLD: UNKNOWN SECTOR: UNKNOWN SPECIES: UNKNOWN HEIGHT: 5¡¯5 WEIGHT: 185(Unnaturally heavy) STIGMATA: Short-Range Teleportation TIDE: Cryo DESIGNATION: Anomaly 888 MONIKER: Eight DANGER: Orange-Red COMMENTS: The boy is formidable and sly. The common Centurion may not guarantee victory. For now, Judge Vermillion will watch him. But should he go off the rails¡­ Centurion Rasa shall have his head. He holds secrets that could change wars. Not that he knows. Dante felt the rift within his body, his connection to the rumbling Lightsea pulling taut. Surewinter had successfully cycled through him, the frost creeping into his bones, hardening the very interior of his flesh. Moments passed, and the room¡¯s temperature rose. Astraeus ceased the flow of his Tide, allowing the snow to melt around him, the warmth radiating from his growing agitation. The Dirge raised a hand, pointing toward Dante, a flicker of confusion breaking through his incomprehensible face, ¡°How did you complete the first cycle? It should have frozen you from the inside out after you refused my help...¡± the spots on his face halted, just for a moment, in his bewilderment. Dante grinned, his gaze falling to his hands, feeling the faint pulse of power beneath his skin. He had always known how to move forward with this technique since its first second in his body. The first cycle was about forging a connection to the hidden element, a nearly impossible feat for those without a guide. Even with help, though, it wasn¡¯t easy. The frost embedded in the initial bond had the potential to kill most sentients. For stronger beings¡ªCenturions, Praetors, and those above¡ªwho could withstand Surewinter¡¯s freezing bite, the benefit was minimal. They¡¯d waste valuable time training in something that didn¡¯t serve their greater strengths while possibly sabotaging their own affinities. The second cycle, though, was far more demanding. It required the practitioner not only to draw in the frozen essence of the Lightsea but to return it, forming a continuous cycle¡ªan act few could achieve. Such proficiency could only be honed within the Lightsea itself, a realm perilous to most sentients. But soon, Dante would have Thanaris to guide him through its treacherous currents. There, he could refine the technique further in a place where few dared to venture. Only the Dirge could join him in that dangerous mastery. The third cycle remained beyond Dante¡¯s grasp. It was something more profound, tied to the very nature of his Tide and the Lightsea¡¯s currents. Despite his lack of complete understanding, being granted access to such a powerful technique left him with a rare sense of appreciation¡ªeven if the gesture from Astraeus had been more mocking than generous. ¡°Thanks, Astraeus. I¡¯m tough enough for this, though Lucius could probably handle it too,¡± Dante dipped his head slightly, unafraid of the honesty in his words. Astraeus jerked his head to the side, letting out a dismissive grunt before turning away, ¡°Yeah, yeah. You¡¯re welcome, or whatever you fleshies say.¡± Dante¡¯s grin stretched wider, his face fighting to contain the amusement threatening to burst. It was a rare delight to see the normally ordered Astraeus embarrassed. Such was the best thing that had happened in days. Weeks, even. Dante shook his head, pushing the thought aside as he refocused on Surewinter. There was knowledge in his mind¡ªdetails about the technique¡ªthat shouldn¡¯t have been there. It was... Disconcerting. The way information had woven itself into his thoughts as if pulled directly from the Lightsea itself unnerved him to no end. The comfort with which a technique carried the knowledge of its creator disturbed him. While he rubbed his chin, Dante realized he¡¯d need to be more cautious going forward. He couldn¡¯t afford to follow any random art or mantra blindly. He¡¯d gotten lucky this time. But that luck wouldn¡¯t always hold. He mentally reviewed the cycles, going over them in precise detail. The first cycle, Entry, enhanced my body¡¯s resistance to extreme cold while gradually fortifying its strength and endurance. The improvements were minimal at first, but with continued practice, they would compound. However, the second cycle, Surety, elevates those enhancements to an extraordinary degree. With it, I could survive with frozen blood coursing through my veins and tear steel apart with my bare hands. The third cycle, Wintry, is the limit of my current understanding. It brought Surewinter into direct alignment with the Lightsea, allowing its user to tap into the deeper, primal energies of the frost in the realm. What that truly meant, the human had no clue. He¡¯d have to ask Astraeus, eventually. In his heatless hands, he let the snow settle and searched for the Lightsea once more. He enjoyed the sensation of progress. Achievements of the mind and body pushed him onward relentlessly. I¡¯ll sleep when I¡¯m dead. With closed eyelids, Dante allowed himself a moment of stillness. The surrounding room faded into silence, the cold settling deeper into his bones as his body temperature continued to drop. Unbeknownst to him, outside his awareness, a towering woman with crimson hair cascading down her back whispered to her most loyal warrior, ¡°Surewinter, you say? He continues to impress. Give him the rest. I want you both unstoppable when we enter the wormhole.¡± ¡°But Master¡­ he¡¯s human,¡± Astraeus¡¯s usually fearless demeanor faltered, his dots quivering under the weight of Caesar¡¯s gaze like a chastened child. Thanaris wiped the blood from her lips, the sticky red tangling with her fingers as she giggled softly, ¡°Now you care? You¡¯ve already taught him, Simmer.¡± Astraeus shivered and peeked down, already forming his apology, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Thanaris interrupted, her tone light. ¡°Treat him like one of our kin, or he¡¯ll die in the Inferose.¡± Her words inched with humor, but her lack of smile never wavered. Thanaris placed a hand on Astraeus¡¯s shoulder, a gesture that was both comforting and possessive. As she leaned close, the woman lowered her porcelain neck to whisper in his ear, her voice soft yet commanding, ¡°I know what he¡¯s doing to you. Don¡¯t fear my retaliation. I am your master, not your owner. Neither of us has any love for Him.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Her voice wavered slightly¡ªan uncharacteristic hitch that Astraeus couldn¡¯t help but notice, ¡°Just... be careful. The Veiling Eyes will soon fall upon you now that you¡¯ve learned Domain Collapse. Grow stronger, Simmer. We have little time left before you slip into their gaze.¡± Astraeus watched his master limp away; her strength somehow diminished after speaking to him in such a vulnerable way. His hands clenched, the force behind them enough to split stone, and a low growl escaped his throat. The sight of Thanaris in pain stirred something deep within him¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t allow. His master¡¯s suffering, especially on his behalf, was unacceptable. Without hesitation, he looked down at his hands and pressed them together, returning to his training. His Domain Collapse had to be perfected. There was no time for weakness. ¡°Inverted Palace.¡° The words rippled through the air, sending a wave of energy from the Lightsea. Astraeus¡¯s Tide surged from his core, warping the enveloping dimension. Behind him, the Inverted Palace began to take form¡ªa phantasmal castle, its spectral presence growing more defined, visible to anyone who might dare to look. Its nature was unnatural, however, for it fit within the existing hallway without affecting the physical world. As Astraeus triggered his Domain Collapse, reality itself seemed to ripple, sloshing like waves through the air, as if bending under the immense weight of his power. The words he had spoken reverberated through the space¡ªnot just as a sound, but as though the world itself had given voice to them. They pierced through walls, floors, and ceilings, ripping through the atmosphere as shockwaves, even rupturing the sky above. Somewhere nearby, a man amid his own practice jolted from his focus, dragged violently into the whirlwind of power Astraeus had unleashed. Behind Astraeus, the Inverted Palace took form, emerging from the Lightsea with the Anathema¡¯s indomitable spirit taking form. But it was more than that. A Domain Collapse reflected the soul itself. Every being had a unique Domain, a manifestation of their inner world, even if their techniques, Tides, and Stigmas shared were identical. No two beings could possess the same collapse. The Inverted Palace reflected Astraeus¡¯s peculiar nature, its towers twisting downward in jagged spirals, too low to see their peaks, disappearing into an endless void beneath the hallways¡¯ floor. The walls seemed crafted from ethereal, translucent stone that flickered between solid and spectral, shifting like a mirage while the ¡®bottom¡¯ of the palace sat upon the ceiling. Dante hauled himself from the room only to witness the ghostly mirage of grandeur and ruin. The windows, instead of reflecting the light in the man¡¯s eye, swallowed it, each pane filled with an inky blackness that seemed to stretch into the Lightsea¡¯s depths. Dante felt as though the very glass stole power from all who dared look. And it did. Astraeus¡¯s Domain Collapse had grown far more potent since the last time he had fully invoked it. The collapse of the palace was not just a summoning of the Lightsea, but it was also a direct imposition of his will on the fabric of reality. His mastery over the Lightsea had deepened, and now his Domain didn¡¯t merely exist. It distorted everything around it. Dante nodded, for Astraeus had unearthed the ultimate step toward a Domain. Within the boundaries of the Inverted Palace, the Anathema¡¯s overall strength magnified, as his Tide amplified, and the power of anyone caught inside would be slashed. Snow crept through the palace¡¯s corridors, swirling in silent spirals, as the grand, otherworldly structure gradually shrunk down until it settled as a more trim, shadowed figure behind Astraeus. Dante, one hand still braced against the wall, couldn¡¯t help but feel a fresh wave of awe at the sheer power before him. In less than a month since reaching the rank of Anathema, Astraeus hadn¡¯t just reached an incomplete domain¡ªhe had far surpassed it. He had consolidated a Domain Collapse, then he went one more leap and realized its effects, finishing it. From this point on, only optimization could occur. It was now true, without any further modification to its abilities as it was stabilized. Dante sought his own link to the Lightsea while within the Inverted Palace, and he wasn¡¯t surprised to find it severed. There would be no external help here¡ªnot for anyone who dared face Astraeus in his home. ¡°You need a domain to break another¡¯s, you know,¡± Astraeus said, pivoting to face Dante. His usual disdain for the word ¡®human¡¯ was absent, replaced with something resembling respect. ¡°But knowing you, I imagine you¡¯ve already thought of a workaround. Any suggestions for my improvement?¡± Dante grinned at the recognition, something he couldn¡¯t help with his own pride, finally tearing his gaze from the awe-inspiring feat. His mind raced, analyzing everything he knew about domains and Astraeus in particular. He placed two fingers on his chin, considering for a moment before speaking, ¡°You can only use it once a day, right? Even in its incomplete state?¡± A nod answered him, but there was a secondary part to follow, ¡°Yes, but I can hold an incomplete for a long time and transition it into a complete one. And vice-versa.¡± Dante nodded along, his eyes scanning the altered surroundings. The colors around him subtly shifted by the Lightsea¡¯s influence. He already had a plan forming¡ªa way to neutralize Astraeus¡¯s Domain. The real question for Dante was whether to share his idea. He and Astraeus were still enemies, after all¡ªtemporary allies, sure, but that wouldn¡¯t last. Once the leash was off, it was likely they¡¯d be forced to face each other. It might not even be their own wills that decided it. The Dirge could be ordered to kill him, and Dante knew neither of them would go down without a fight. Is it worth it? Dante weighed the risk. Yeah. This will help us fight the other Anathemas, even if Astraeus gets too familiar with the strategy. It¡¯s not the best, either. I¡¯m sure I can come up with better when I know more. While extending two fingers from his palm, Dante set his mind. Surviving now was more important than holding out for later, ¡°I¡¯ve got two ideas. First, we could create a bomb¡ªone that won¡¯t work once the IC is established. We bait them into using it. If the target¡¯s inexperienced with tech, we could use one detonation regardless for some extra hurt. Once they raise the IC, we buy time until they¡¯re forced to drop it from exhaustion.¡± Astraeus nodded, considering the logic. It made sense. Even an Anathema could only maintain an incomplete Collapse for a day or so before fatigue set in. The strongest among them could barely push beyond two days. But Dante wasn¡¯t finished. He lowered one finger and raised the other, ¡°The second idea hinges on the element of surprise. We disable one of their limbs. The likelihood of an Anathema activating a Domain Collapse with just one hand is zero, as you and Thanaris have pointed out. One of us focuses on that while the other goes in for the kill. That way, we can reserve your Domain Collapse for more dangerous opponents.¡± Astraeus nodded once more, the logic falling into place. He could contest an opponent¡¯s Domain on his own, but doing so would drain his energy. With Dante unable to summon one, it was critical for them to conserve their ace for as long as possible. Still, a concern lingered in the Dirge¡¯s mind, ¡°These bombs¡­ can you actually make them? What about the one you used on me before? It hurt.¡± The human blinked, surprised by the admission, ¡°Did it now?¡± Dante said, a grin pulling at his lips, and then he waved Astraeus to follow. ¡°I¡¯ll show you. The electronics on this planet are probably fried, but I can scavenge enough materials to make a few mechanical bombs. Those are a bit harder to build¡­ but come on. I need to get out of this damned place.¡± Dante strode away, his steps heavy from the pressure of Astraeus¡¯s Domain still lingering in the air. When the Dirge retracted his Tide, pulling the power back into himself, Dante¡¯s pace quickened, relieved of the oppressive weight. In moments, his boots splashed through shallow pools of red-stained water, the recent rainfall tainted by the bloodshed Thanaris had left in her wake. Dante¡¯s eyes froze at the sight¡ªvisible, undeniable death. It reminded him of the monsters he was forced to work and live alongside. His stomach twisted, and rage flickered in his chest, crawling upward as he looked at the water, the faint metallic scent in the air overwhelming his senses. For a moment, he thought he might do something reckless, which is what Nullify had stopped him from doing. But then, unexpectedly, Astraeus¡¯s voice broke through the tension. ¡°Sorry. I... I... I don¡¯t know. Sorry,¡± Astraeus¡¯s face shifted away, his usual confident demeanor faltering, unable to meet Dante¡¯s gaze. It was a small thing, but at that moment, it meant everything. These beings¡ªthese monsters¡ªcould still feel. Everything about this was confusing. Dante wanted to hate them¡ªshould hate them. He knew, deep down, that some part of this was probably Stockholm syndrome. And yet, if his own life had started differently, would he be any better? These two had killed millions. Millions more would follow. But if Dante had that kind of power, could he honestly say he wouldn¡¯t do the same? Wouldn¡¯t do worse to protect his life or secure his freedom? In their shoes¡­ I wouldn¡¯t even say sorry. As he splashed through the bloodstained flood, he tossed two words over his shoulder, more out of impulse than reflection. ¡°Thank you.¡± With the rain having ceased, the two made their way through the light flood in relative silence, heading toward a nearby supply store. Inside, Astraeus¡¯s eyes widened at the sheer variety of items and utensils stacked on the shelves. Curiosity overtook him. As they wandered the aisles, Astraeus quietly swiped things off the shelves. It started with a tool here or a gadget there, asking Dante about each one. Despite their odd partnership, Dante answered every question patiently, even as he gathered the materials he needed. Given the condition of the planet they were on, Dante knew he¡¯d have to rely on the ignorance of any Dirge they faced, especially in the nuances of how domains interacted with technology. Domains did not affect mechanical devices, so draining their energy would be pointless for the bombs he envisioned. Dante¡¯s plan allowed for three bombs¡ªno more. Any more would be too difficult to carry, hide, or manage without risking them being stolen. Three was the perfect balance. Through his insights, his feet soaked in the water, the cold seeping into his bones. In the past, he might have shivered, but not anymore. He set up a table and began crafting the bombs, his hands moving with precise, deliberate efficiency. Astraeus hovered nearby, peering over Dante¡¯s shoulder. He picked up a chainsaw from one shelf, scrutinizing it, ¡°Is this a sword?¡± Dante chuckled, shaking his head, ¡°Not quite. It¡¯s effective for cutting, but it relies on electronic components. Maybe I could get Archimedes to make you one that doesn¡¯t need electricity¡ªpossibly powered by motes from the Lightsea.¡± Astraeus¡¯s eyes glued themselves to the chainsaw, his fascination unmistakable. It reminded Dante of the way Rejo would look whenever he got his hands on a new gun. It was¡­ a strange love. Dante shrugged and held out his hand for the chainsaw. Astraeus handed it over without hesitation, and Dante, curiosity sparking, called upon his Tide. Water flowed from his hands, surging into the tool¡¯s mechanisms. The liquid coursed through its inner workings, gathering momentum. At first, the result was underwhelming¡ªbarely enough force to turn the blade, let alone cut anything. But as the seconds ticked by, the water adapted, gaining speed and precision. The chainsaw¡¯s teeth spun faster and faster, propelled by the increasing force of the water. Water was adaptable. It filled every shape and fit every need. It was a tool for every situation. Gradually, the chainsaw¡¯s rotation became powerful enough to send droplets splashing outward, the sheer force of the water cracking wood nearby. That was just the water alone. When Dante lowered the chainsaw to the store¡¯s counter, it effortlessly sliced through steel, clean as a blade. Dante and Astraeus locked eyes at the precise moment. ¡°I need a better one,¡± Dante muttered. ¡°I need one,¡± Astraeus replied with equal fascination. Laughter cascaded out from both of them, the noise of the rotating chainsaw slowly fading into silence. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but both were already thinking ahead. Dante could envision Astraeus fitting into his crew despite the complexities of their past. Meanwhile, Astraeus, for reasons even he struggled to explain, wanted Dante to stay. He didn¡¯t want the human to leave. After a few moments of silence, Dante handed the chainsaw back to the Dirge, ¡°You¡¯ve already mastered Frigo. It wouldn¡¯t be too hard for you to practice with water if you¡¯re serious. We¡¯ll check in with Archimedes when we¡¯re ready.¡± Astraeus took the chainsaw, his eyes still wide with wonder. It was the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he had been born a Hydro. Then, while the Dirge was enjoying himself, Dante asked him, ¡°So, were there any pianos inside our place?¡± his voice staggered for a moment. ¡°I need to¡­ relax for a bit.¡± ¡°The instrument, right? You play music?¡± Astraeus asked, surprising Dante with his knowledge of the world. In some parts, he was grotesquely ignorant, and in others, he possessed deep insight. Dante nodded, however, wishing he could play. He hadn¡¯t touched a key in a long¡­ long time. To his joy, Astraeus bobbed his head, ¡°Hmm. I think I remember one in the big guy¡¯s office.¡± With the news, Dante strode past the Anathema, already heading back toward their current residence. Astraeus hurried after him, splashing through the street behind them. Just ten minutes later, they both stood inside the Baron¡¯s office. The piano lay in ruins before the human. His mask broke for a second into pure rage and his hands trembled, tightening into fists. Then, he turned to Astraeus. He didn¡¯t have to say a word. His face told all. He would devote that building frustration into training. 33 - Drifters And Seekers A hooded figure spoke to his communicator, staring at a ripple in space before him,¡°It¡¯s found.¡± Another voice resounded with satisfaction, echoing from the device in his hand, ¡°Good. But don¡¯t claim it yet. I¡¯m on my way. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. It is not easy to get out of meetings. Who knows how Elize received Vicar¡¯s stamp of absence. No matter, If any come¡­ Kill them all.¡± The subordinate hummed silently, returning to the lofty trees surrounding the valley hiding the rift. Then, he clasped the communicator shut with a grin. A well-dressed gentleman strode confidently into the steel hangar, his grin pleasant and assured. With a swift, practiced motion, he hefted the briefcase at his side onto a nearby table, clicking it open before spinning it around for the crew of the mangled starship to inspect. ¡°One dose of Blythar,¡± the man refused to introduce himself, his voice dripping with polished eloquence. ¡°Side effects include a shortened lifespan and the alteration of one¡¯s Tide.¡± ¡°And that¡¯ll work? It¡¯ll save her?¡± Sonna¡¯s voice broke the tension, though she hesitated, eyeing her unconscious companion on the nearby couch. The man gave a curt nod, his gloved hand pushing the case closer to Sonna and Lucius. Rejo stood nearby, arms crossed, while Archimedes remained hidden behind the hallway¡¯s door, watching with wide, cautious eyes. ¡°Yes,¡± the man replied with cold efficiency. ¡°Blythar, a Soul Suppressor, forcibly acclimates both body and soul to the Lightsea by forcing the Qualae¡¯s remnant into submission. Made straight from the marrow of an Anathema and sprinkled with a Caesar¡¯s essence. Also, a Psion must be present in its creation to finalize the suppressive effects. Prohibitively expensive, might I add.¡± He offered a slight bow, preparing to leave, but Lucius¡¯s voice stopped him mid-turn. ¡°Are you one of Claudius¡¯ men?¡± Lucius¡¯s tone was sharp, testing the courier¡¯s origins. The man shook his head without hesitation, ¡°No. This was a favor sent by Praetor Sun.¡± Without another word, the Tianshe left the hangar, his gray skin barely a shade lighter than the ship¡¯s steel, blending into the metallic ambiance as the roar of another starship¡¯s engines filled the air. A moment later, silence reigned over the hangar, save for the distant hum of the ship¡¯s damaged systems. Dante¡¯s crew stood alone on Keurgis IIII, a barren, lifeless planet of rock and dust, baking under a cruel sun. Rejo¡¯s eyes lingered on the thin syringe of mint-green liquid, curiosity creasing his brow, ¡°You guys ¡®hink if I took ¡®hat, I could use my ¡®ide?¡± His sincere question met silence as Sonna and Lucius exchanged uncertain glances. Archimedes, from his hiding spot, gently tugged at Rejo¡¯s sleeve, shaking his head softly. Lucius reached into the foam-lined case, pulling the syringe out. While holding the container up to the dim lights, he inspected the gleaming liquid, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sonna stared at it, too, sensing the processed, hardly contained power swirling within the vial. The Lightsea¡¯s presence was palpable¡ªa complex network of motes that surpassed anything she had ever encountered, except for that monstrous lady, however. The soldier of the crew bent over and retrieved the medicine from the foam imprint in the case, holding it up to the overhead lights. Sonna, too, gaped at it, feeling the power wrestled within it. She sensed the Lightsea itself and with an origin far more remarkable than her own mastery. It was difficult for her to comprehend, but it felt like a network of interconnecting veins, each powered by a mote of the ¡®Sea. Beyond that, however, something within tickled her mind with a warning. ¡°We have no choice,¡± Sonna muttered softly, her voice tight with uncertainty. ¡°Give it to her. We need to move soon. With fuel this low, we might even need to grab a bounty just to make it across the Wings to Gladius C.¡± The woman bit her nail lightly as she recalled the recent ping from Dante¡¯s chip. He was still on Crislend. Alive. For now. How long? No one knew. And that¡¯s why they were in a rush. Lucius nodded and carefully injected the bile-like fluid into Joan¡¯s neck. For several moments, the crew stood still, watching as the doctor¡¯s body convulsed, her veins bulging grotesquely beneath her skin. It had been a tumultuous past few days. At roughly every point, they had thought the Harenlar wouldn¡¯t make it. And yet... Her antennae twitched with a spasm as her eyes snapped open, gasping with a mix of relief and horror. Lucius took a step back as her skin rippled, the movement unnatural and foreign, like an inside creature grasping for escape. The Martian¡¯s hand hovered over the pistol at his waist, but Sonna clutched his wrist, holding him in place. ¡°Joan? Are you... alright?¡± Sonna crouched closer, her voice thick with concern. The doctor¡¯s lungs heaved in rapid breaths, inhaling sharply several times but not exhaling. Rejo edged forward, curiosity etched on his face, while API lurked in the doorway, barely peeking around the corner. The boy¡¯s eyes were stuck, lodged upon the brow of the unconscious woman. He felt as though he saw something there, but before he could discover it, Joan¡¯s arms burst open, her skin tearing apart with a sickening crack. Cries of disgust erupted from the crew as a sickly, yellowish-maroon liquid spurted from her open wounds, far too thick to be blood. ¡°What... the... fuck... is... that?¡± Rejo¡¯s voice was bare with disbelief, and Sonna clapped a hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to retch. Conversely, Lucius knelt beside the doctor, dipping a finger into the substance. The doctor couldn¡¯t speak a word as she hacked her lungs out. Lucius, dipping a finger into the liquid, furrowed his brow, ¡°It¡¯s... like blood. But it¡¯s not. Marrow? Joan?¡± Bit by bit, the doctor brought her own symptoms into line by shoving a handful of pills into her jaws with a free palm. Then, beating her chest to speed up the medicine¡¯s passage through her esophagus, her eyes met their stares with a crazed wildness. ¡°Yes,¡± the woman rasped, her voice hoarse. ¡°It¡¯s... marrow. Damn it. What did you give me? I feel... like I¡¯m overflowing with power. Something¡¯s twisting inside me. Wait... is that my Tide?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Her twenty fingers twisted in the air, moving as if they were drawing back the strings of invisible bows. The sickly liquid hovering in the air quivered and responded to her call. Lucius took a cautious step back while Sonna and Rejo recoiled further, watching with a mixture of horror and fascination. Only Lucius remained relatively calm, for he had seen far worse. ¡°Are you better now?¡± Lucius asked, his voice carefully neutral. ¡°And is that really your Tide? You¡¯re a Necto? I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised...¡± He trailed off, watching as Joan manipulated the marrow-like fluid back into her open wounds. Nevertheless, her wounds remained open despite such bizarre motions. Joan nodded, shifting to lean against the couch for support, ¡°Yeah. But I¡¯ll need a bit to walk. This, though... It¡¯s amazing. Everything I¡¯ve ever wanted. Another thing to appreciate Dante for, I suppose.¡± The Harenlar knew well and above that whatever she was given to cure her was astronomically expensive. She was a doctor, and the prices of such specific and powerful medicines were... Often¡­ priceless. It wasn¡¯t her that whoever gave this was paying for, though. And it wasn¡¯t anyone beyond her four eyes, either. It was the human that they had placed a bet on, the same human she had watched grow from a desperate sniveling brat into a cunning renegade. Claudius. He was wagering that Dante could turn all of us into allies, powerful ones nonetheless. A morsel of pride bloomed within the haughty woman¡¯s heart, but she squirreled it away behind layers of cold ambitions, hoping to never have to deal with the emotions adequately. Joan wasn¡¯t one to entertain sentiment. While closing her eyes, she talked over Sonna just as the latter started up, ¡°Alright. Take us to Crislend, boy. I¡¯ve got some things to work on.¡± Archimedes flinched at the harsh demand, but before he could react, Lucius stepped in, ¡°His name is Archimedes. You will call him by his name, and you will not order him around like that.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. Whatever. Let me work. I¡¯ll get back to you on that,¡± Joan rolled her eyes, further instigating the soldier. Lucius wanted to strike the woman, but he calmed down, knowing that was not the answer here. Violence didn¡¯t used to be his go-to. It pained him it was now. Lucius clenched his fists, the urge to retaliate burning hot in his chest, but he exhaled sharply, choosing restraint through the inner turmoil, ¡°Isaac,¡± he said, facing the boy gently. ¡°Can you chart us for Crislend? Is a jump even possible?¡± The young man shook his head while Sonna¡¯s eyes fell in disappointment, not because of API, but from the overall situation, ¡°No... Shields are too weak. If... I¡ªI had powers... we could go anyway...¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright, buddy. Just get us going if you can. Dante can last a while longer, I¡¯m sure,¡± Luciuss, patting the air around the boy¡¯s back, smiled. He treated the boy no different from his own children he so dearly missed. Then, the two walked toward the Skull, heading through the trim hallways, leaving Rejo and Sonna together with the isolated Harenlar. Four arms tiredly waved in the background while the Weren scrubbed her face with her palm, ¡°Crislend? Is that such a good idea? What if the Caesar is still there?¡± Rejo could only offer her a shrug before his own hands gathered at his chest. He wanted her to see the fruit of his training as a small orb of Lightsea motes gathered at his chest. Yet, they swiftly fractured, offering him only a brief nod from Sonna. A long sigh emerged as she walked away, heading toward her own room. As she entered the main hallway, the thrusters on the Maiden shuddered, nearly making her falter because of the poor stabilizers on the ship. Everything¡¯s a mess right now. I doubt the Caesar is still on Crislend based on what we¡¯ve learned about them, but we¡¯ll still have to deal with countless Dirge. Maybe even a few Anathema. Can we do that? In her undersized quarters now, Sonna sat cross-legged on her bed, her hands held out in front of her, palms upturned. Thin streams of mist curled from her fingertips, the ghostly tendrils expanding slowly outward as she practiced her Tide. The decaying sublimation formed a thin glove around her hands, a decaying solid that spread across her flesh like frost creeping over a windowpane. Sonna stared at the ethereal mist, her brow wrinkled in concentration. She had been practicing, pushing herself to control her power more effectively, to make it last longer without draining her. Arido, the rarest Tide. And what did it mean? What did it make her? The thin glove across her flesh was her Tide. She was an Arido. The rarest natural type. And why was that? She had done some research on her own, but little turned up on the standard Starnet. She had some thoughts, though, but most of them were self-demoralizing. The self-doubt gnawed at her as it always did. Cryos were powerful, bold, and confrontational. Hydros were cunning and adaptable, always finding the advantage. Thermos, too, had their own strengths. But Arido? Decay. Corrosion. What kind of power was that? Sonna exhaled deliberately, focusing on the mist and feeling it respond to her will. She had learned to extend it further, let it fill the space around her, and reach out to sense the living beings aboard the ship. The mist was delicate, nigh-invisible, but she could see it without fault. She had practiced this lately, focusing on lowering its draining nature and capitalizing on its ability to spread out. With such a focus, Sonna soon learned the hidden capabilities of her element. The fog expanded further, entering the ship at large, and filled out the vessel after a few minutes. The process was slow because of her cautious nature, but once the near-invisible haze had reached all ends, the woman closed her eyes. There, she felt them all, like a spider surveying its web. Still, she could only sense the living, not the dead or the environment of steel. Rejo sat still, his two arms fashioned into a metaphorical orb¡¯s embrace near his navel. Sonna never, absolutely never, understood that man. His devotion to Dante was unwavering, but... his methods were so odd. Why is he doing that? What is he doing? How come he isn¡¯t practicing his Tide? Sonna was at a loss for words, but she moved on. The Araki¡¯s Stigmata alone would make him an irreplaceable boon in any fight. He had already proven that. Joan was the next the Weren divined with her senses. The doctor cackled with laughter upon the couch, holding up a glove of... the Lightsea¡¯s energy. Motes of her Tide wrestled above her fingertips, spreading into a gauntlet of blanched marrow. The fluid shifted, contorted, before suddenly gaining solidity upon her fingertips. From what Sonna could tell, it didn¡¯t become bone, but it was solid. And... that made her realize the difference between Nectos and the rest. They broke the rules. Every other element was stuck in one state of matter or one transitional phase. But not the Unnatural. Despite the oddness, Sonna bloomed with joy over Joan¡¯s newfound power. A stronger doctor meant they were all more likely to survive, and the four-armed woman had already shown great strength. No one knew what her Stigmata was yet, but they¡¯d find it out in time, Sonna was sure. After the wild excitement subsided, Sonna focused on the duo resembling a father and son. Lucius stood over Archimedes while the young boy rotated controls with one hand and used the other to connect wires. Sonna listened to Archimedes¡¯ words through her mist¡¯s featherweight connection to his life-force, discovering that the boy could, in fact, speak without a stutter or stammer. Instead, Archimedes¡¯ voice droned on in a soft, almost rhythmic monologue, his attention absorbed in repairing and preparing the Maiden for travel, ¡°The engine is running at forty-three percent efficiency. Shields are at twelve.¡± The young boy¡¯s fingers danced across a wire as another terminal lit up, his other hand already typing at the pad, ¡±If I reroute the shields¡¯ allocation into the engine, we can push it to sixty... maybe sixty-five percent, but it¡¯ll strain them. The engines are old¡ªtoo old. There is a risk we get stranded in space with the extra power, but if I don¡¯t, then it¡¯ll be an entire month before we¡¯re even at Crislend.¡± For all the knowledge the young genius possessed, he had little confidence in his decision-making, so he glanced up at Lucius. Pythagoras never asked a question, but the Martian had an answer, ¡°You make the choice, Isaac. I believe in you.¡± A prideful flush colored Archimedes¡¯ pallid face and he immediately returned to the droning. However, now he had a bit of excitement in his words. The core of his brain warmed as a violet light seemed to emerge from the depths of his eyes. His mind calculated an answer, grasping the correct path. ¡°Rerouting shields to engines. Leaking ionized gas from the Seacells. The plasma is only dangerous at high levels, like from a jump. If we need to jump, someone will have to contain it,¡± Archimedes paused, biting his lip. ¡°It¡¯s not a permanent fix. We¡¯ll have to find decent materials if we want to jump again. It will not last twice.¡± Lucius watched him work, a faint smile on his face. The boy was brilliant¡ªfar beyond his years. Archimedes¡¯ mind was a marvel, able to dissect complex mechanical systems as simple puzzles. He rarely obtained a focus like this, but the soldier was proud of Isaac every time. Nonetheless, he was more than just the sum of his skills. Beneath the near-incomprehensible words, the constant fear, and the hidden scars, Lucius knew there was a child still in there somewhere. The father would do everything he could to ensure it remained just a little stretch longer. ¡°Do you think we could make a jump away from Crislend? I doubt we¡¯ll be leaving nicely,¡± Lucius asked, his tone soft but concerned. Archimedes didn¡¯t hesitate, ¡°Yes. As long as I have some time to do repairs with actual parts that aren¡¯t older than both of us combined, I can get the shields high enough for a jump. Though, it will be a slow jump, as I¡¯ll have to re-divert the engines to the shields and the Seacells.¡± The boy¡¯s fingers continued to work, mapping the way ahead while rerouting individual power cells through damaged circuits, every motion methodical if not mechanical in nature. The ship¡¯s systems were more familiar to Archimedes¡¯ than his own frail heartbeat. ¡°Isaac...¡± Lucius began, hesitating for a moment before continuing his words. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do everything by yourself, you know. I can steer just fine.¡± Archimedes glanced up briefly, but his eyes never reached Lucius, falling back down as if yanked, ¡°I know. But this part... this is what I can do. The ship is my responsibility. If I don¡¯t do this, we won¡¯t make it to Crislend. Until I get powers...¡± Lucius nodded, not pushing further as he saw the boy¡¯s dream. It was the kind that every young man had, but Isaac¡¯s was irregular. He actually had a chance of reaching it. No more questions came from the soldier, for he understood the boy¡¯s need to focus, to control what he could in a universe that often felt chaotic and unpredictable. In some ways, the two were far more alike than Lucius would like to admit, for the boy¡¯s sake, of course. However, instead of learning to control something unknown to him when he felt lost, Lucius went on a rampage. Bloodied memories flashed in his mind before he sensed something tickle at his mind. His eyes flicked to the side as he spotted the faintest semblance of fog. Squinting, he put two and two together, and his pupils unveiled a threat toward the watchful mind. ¡°Stop watching us, Sonna. I can feel you,¡± pulling away in shock, the Weren held her hands against her chest as the heart within beat with trepidation. Her breaths came in and out with frantic panic for several moments before she calmed down. It¡¯s just Lucius. It¡¯s just Lucius. Everything is fine. You¡¯re fine. You¡¯re fine. Just breathe. Breathe. In. And. Out. Slowly, glacially, Sonna relaxed from the sudden fear Lucius had burrowed into her soul. Her head fell back onto a pillow before her eyes slid back to her ghostly-clad hands. More. She could do better. 34 - Shroud Of Dread Amongst all the scum in the world, two stand out as so remarkable that any nation would pay dearly for their services. Sometimes, the Whore of Depths will even deign to deal with the Empires, though her price is exorbitant. But the Lord Of Gold? The Man Who Stole The World? Anomaly 654? The Collector himself? His many titles speak for themselves. Any leader would be batshit to let him merely look at their home. Who knows what he could find? His eyes are enough to steal anything. I dare say they are better than mine. If he wasn¡¯t so hard to catch, he would¡¯ve died long ago¡ªcertainly after he stole from Legate Oswort. I am not so dense as to think that my copied Domains or your stolen Stigmata would fare any better should he snub us on our deals. Archimedes Pythagoras Isaac awoke to the sound of rhythmic pounding, a noise that he zeroed in on the instant his brain began turning within his head. His ears, finely tuned to the workings of the ship, homed in on the source. The engine¡¯s overheating. Nearing two hundred Celsius. The expanding metal will affect more than that, too. I need to be fast. As he bolted up from the mattress Lucius had placed within the Skull, the frail young man hastened to the console, where his hands had spent most of their waking hours for the past week. His fingers flew over the keys, adjusting values and redistributing heat. Automatic dispersion is off. This ship is nothing like the one I¡¯d build. It¡¯s hanging on by a thread. Me. Isaac¡¯s eyes darted back to where Lucius sat, his head resting against the metal doorway. The tension in Isaac¡¯s wiry muscles relaxed at the sight of his guardian. With a few more keystrokes, Archimedes stepped away from the console. Quietly, on tiptoe, he fetched his own blanket and draped it over Lucius with all the smoothness his frail hands could muster. The soldier remained still, deep in sleep. Archimedes smiled¡ªa small, innocent gesture¡ªbefore his fixation slipped back to the ship. The strength of his body couldn¡¯t possibly match the resolve in his heart. Nor could it hope to reach the heights of his mind. For Dante. For Lucius. I¡¯ll get us there. No matter what. He turned, walking deeper into the ship to deal with the root of the overheating problem. Adjusting the heat was only a temporary fix, a treatment for the symptom, not the disease. The root cause had to be addressed. Just as Joan could diagnose illness with a glance, Archimedes possessed an uncanny intuition for technology. As the boy waddled into the hallway, struggling to carry the tools left there, Lucius¡¯ eyes opened. He had kept them closed on purpose, observing the boy as he worked. Archimedes, for all his brilliance, didn¡¯t understand Martian physiology, especially how one woke. Lucius peered downward at the blanket trapping him and couldn¡¯t help but chuckle under his breath, a thin grin forming on his lips. His rough fingers ran over the soft fabric, and just touching it seemed to erase some of his worries. He had wanted to get Archimedes away from all this danger, all the floods and brimstone. But... the boy didn¡¯t want to escape it. Isaac wanted to stay with Dante. He wanted to fulfill his dreams. He wanted to build a starship, explore the infinite seas, and become strong enough to carve out a future for himself. Archimedes didn¡¯t want to be a powerless boy, forced into crime and irredeemable labor. And Lucius couldn¡¯t fault him for it or argue. A boy, yes, but Archimedes was not stupid. If this is what he wanted, then the soldier would protect him to the very end. He could set aside his own thirst for vengeance if it meant safeguarding the boy¡¯s future. It was a tough decision for Lucius to make, not to relinquish his extended vengeance but to respect Archimedes¡¯ determination. Lucius only wished he had done the same for his own son. If he had, maybe his boy would still be alive, in Judge training, instead of... Lucius¡¯ chest tightened, and his breathing grew labored as memories of his lifeless family washed over him. He couldn¡¯t cry¡ªtears had been stolen from him by the experiments that made him what he was. His hands clenched the blanket tighter. And for just a moment, a tiny instant, he considered taking a Qualae for that kind boy on his ship. Then, his eyes grew lidded as the comfort of the blanket lulled him to sleep. He¡¯d worry about such things later. For now, he needed to rest.
Most of the crew was asleep at this late hour. Lucius, bent against a wall with covers too small for his extra-large form, dreamt a nightmareless night. While snoring beneath blankets stolen from Sonna, Rejo¡¯s face showed deliberate and existential peace. Meanwhile, in her room, Joan had passed out after using too much of her Tide and exhausting herself, laid out on the cold floor with nothing to smooth her slumber. Three slept, and two remained awake. Sonna, unaware of Archimedes¡¯ nightly tinkering, was busy dialing a number on the ship¡¯s shared communicator. After several beeps, a voice answered. ¡°Yes, Sonna? What do you need this late? We¡¯re about to start a raid. The medicine worked, no?¡± Claudius Vermillion¡¯s voice, though irritated, tinged with concern. The Weren bit her lip, ¡°Yes. The Soul Suppressant worked great. Maybe too well, but that¡¯s not why I¡¯m calling. I... uh...¡± Sonna stammered, fearful of the answer to her question. Yet she knew it had to be said as the other end was noiseless, lingering for her to get it out. And so, she did, speaking as fast as she could as if to rip off the proverbial bandaid, ¡°We¡¯re only a few hours away from Crislend. What do we do if Dante is dead? His metrics still say he is, but... Joan¡¯s tech could be wrong.¡± The silence on the line lingered just a little too long, and Sonna opened her mouth to defend herself and her crew. Yet Claudius¡¯ voice reposefully sounded through before she could, ¡°He¡¯s alive. I can feel it. I¡¯m a Seer, remember? It¡¯s not just my Stigma. We have... senses for this kind of thing. Trust my gut,¡± he paused for a moment, then added, ¡°Anything else? I really need to go.¡± Sonna thought about it, wanting desperately to have someone to talk to outside her small crew. She liked... most of them, but between Joan¡¯s cruelty and Rejo¡¯s eccentricity, she needed a break. Still, she knew Claudius had no time for her personal struggles. ¡°No. I don¡¯t need anything else,¡± Sonna lied through her teeth, but Claudius took it at face value. The Judge thanked Sonna for her diligence before hanging up the call. Those words, however, merely phased through her mind. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Sonna returned to the dim stillness of her room. Alone once again. It did not differ from the days isolated within Lisera¡¯s room, just waiting for the end if it were to come. She dragged herself to the corner of her bed against the wall, hugging her knees, just like she had done countless times before as a body double. Terrified, fear gripped her tightly. While she might have some vestige of power, it meant little to her if Dante was dead. But why? Why did she feel that way? He was just a human. If he was dead, then she didn¡¯t have to worry about the news of her gifting him a Qualae on a golden platter leaking. She could return to the Federation Of Flesh. But did she want to do that? Sonna¡¯s enlarged eyes followed the low lights up on the ceiling, back and forth, like a moth¡¯s flight. She shook her head, convinced that returning was not an option. They would kill her for letting Lisera die. But... she could still run if Dante died, right? Her eyes halted at the end of the luminant strip, hanging onto the edge where the light meets the dark. She¡¯d be tossed into the cosmos without a goal. Without a guide. Without someone to follow. Could she do that? Could she survive without someone to depend on? Sonna wasn¡¯t so sure. Sure, she could, maybe, work for Claudius if all went wrong, but... it didn¡¯t feel right. I owe Dante my life. She was consumed by the truth, fraught with unease and worry. If he was dead, it meant more than her being aimless. It meant... she would have betrayed the one person who valued her life. While clutching the communicator in her hands, she felt its warmth seep into her skin. That small comfort was enough to carry her into sleep, a final slumber before her fate would be decided.
Across the stars, on a warring planet, another crew of Seafarers crouched atop a valley of desiccated trees. The thin branches narrowly supported their weight, so the five of them spread out among several trunks. Claudius Vermillion clasped the communicator closed, then slid it back into the inside of his shirt while weighing the Executioner at his hip. It did little in the fight against Astraeus, but that was because the Anathema¡¯s Stigmata was particularly oppressive. An ability that could slash space? Such was terrifying, a rarity that may qualify him to fit Eight¡¯s Designation. Who knows how far it could grow? If at all? If Astraeus had awakened a Fused Domain, combining the aspects of his Tide and Stigmata instead of a Mystique, they would have all died on Crislend. Here, though? On this battlefield? The Judge¡¯s standard Executioner was unrivaled in its stopping power. Behind Claudius, Rose readied her knives, while across from her, a young man cracked his neck, still gripping his briefcase. They were not alone. With her two pairs of hands, Yue drew four revolvers fabricated to resist Domains, and her partner unsheathed his curved blade. Talander¡¯s sword matched the deadliness of his pointed tail, wrapped around the trunk for stability. All five were ready for bloodshed. Each trained for the greater half of their lives, whether by a Judge, a Centurion, or someone they couldn¡¯t remember through their mangled mind. The shortest figure conjured a slim needle of ice that he slid into his mouth. At the same time, his eyes fell beneath him, where a squad of Dirge wandered. His keen senses picked up the hints of power, each individual¡¯s connection to the Lightsea, the most important measure of strength for Dirge. It was a difficult task to scale strength, nigh impossible in sentients that wished to hide it. However, it wasn¡¯t impossible to differentiate the inhabitants of the Lightsea based on their habits. Anachronisms didn¡¯t talk much; most couldn¡¯t speak at all or were simple-minded. Anathema, however, possessed a cunning gaze that an observant watcher could spot. Eight¡¯s sharp eyes found four Anachronisms and one Anathema below¡ªa rare combination. The ringleaders scattered themselves across the bloody continent, making them difficult to locate. Without the leaders, the Dirge couldn¡¯t rally their forces, even with a Juncture. The Anachronisms had intelligence, yes, but they lacked the leadership needed to command their underlings effectively. Claudius had taken it upon himself and his crew to eliminate as many of them as possible before they were called to assist Praetor Sun. No one in the group had objections, even though killing Anathema was notoriously dangerous. But that danger only pushed them to grow stronger. That¡¯s what each of them craved¡ªstrength, more than credits or fame. With the targets beneath him, the Anomaly began the attack. Eight evaporated into the air, slipping into the Lightsea itself. He splashed behind a lithe Anachronism, silent as death. He didn¡¯t pause to watch as the icy needle he spat pierced his prey¡¯s neck. Already, he was moving, his Stigmata flaring as he swept an ice blade toward the Anachronism¡¯s exposed throat. A crown of steam flew into the air a moment later, and Eight was already gone, scrunched upon a branch scarcely a few feet away from Rose. The Tianshe breathed under her lips with genuine fear, ¡°Shit. He¡¯s a natural assassin!¡± Eight¡¯s eyes, devoid of any waves or light, flicked toward her while the four beneath went mad, his cold gaze chilling even the battle-hardened woman, ¡°I can probably get another one,¡± he muttered, barely audible. ¡°Then Claudius and I will handle the ¡®Thema. You three can take care of the other two, right?¡± Indignant stares shot back at him from the others, but no one voiced any protest. Now wasn¡¯t the time. Even if it were, neither Yue, Talander, nor Rose had the desire¡ªor the courage¡ªto challenge him. Though Rose was co-leader on the surface, everyone knew Eight, the teenage Anomaly, was just as powerful as their Judge. Still, with their agreement, the briefcase-wielding young man delved into the Lightsea once more, propping back up behind a swordsman. Dirge that held weapons weren¡¯t rare, but they definitely were not the norm. As such, Eight wanted to kill this one as soon as possible. It likely possessed some strength. An icy blade lunged for the Anachronism¡¯s neck, but to Eight¡¯s surprise, the creature blocked the attack. The Dirge countered instantly, a swift and lethal strike aimed at the young man¡¯s throat. For anyone else, dodging would have been the only option, but Eight had earned his Designation for a reason, even if shrouded in mystery. Before the counterattack could land, his frost-coated blade pierced the Anachronism¡¯s spine, protruding from its mouth like a grotesque tongue. The other Dirge, furious, stomped toward him, but Eight vanished, leaving four bodies to drop from the trees, descending onto the remaining enemies. Yue and Talander moved as one toward the burly, fur-covered Anachronism. Yue¡¯s revolvers spat bullets, slowing the creature down while Talander¡¯s blade sliced toward its throat. Meanwhile, Rosa¡¯s body fumed with a humid heat, the rushing Tide both enhancing her form and providing a rapid acceleration to her regeneration. Her daggers slid toward the final Anachronism, the tall female Dirge meeting Rosa with her own knives. With that, they separated the Anathema. He judged his surroundings, crestfallen, and between both a Judge and an Anomaly. Claudius recognized his enemy at such a close distance, noting the medals pinned onto its striped flesh and stolen clothes. Eight swapped his briefcase to the other hand and formed another longsword of frost as Claudius raised his Executioner, taunting his enemy, ¡°Justini, right? Slayer of ten thousand men? You and your... ¡®men¡¯ look... awfully pitiful under these moons.¡± As if his words had been a spark, the moons above seemed to fuel Claudius, their pale light intensifying his Tide. His skin burned with the energy they provided, and the effect was palpable. But it did more than merely strengthen Claudius; it turned Justini¡¯s pensive and saddened gaze into raw fury. The Anathema, eyes blazing with fury, lunged straight for Claudius. Claudius fired a bullet from his Executioner, grinning despite the warmth. The shot tore through the air, meeting Justini¡¯s forming steam head-on. The super-heated gas began to melt the bullet, but not quickly enough to stop its momentum. It slammed into Justini, forcing him back several steps. Mint-green seawater dripped from the wound, staining the forest floor. Still, more steam hissed from Justini¡¯s body, and the waters of the Lightsea surged around Claudius. The Judge knew he was outmatched. Even with the minor boost from the moons, the Anathema would overpower him, eventually. But that didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t alone. Claudius stomped forward, bringing his Tide to bear while tendrils of boiling steam dove for his face. A flood of water met the steam, releasing a hissing noise that deafened all present from its sheer might. And in that moment, Eight struck. While Diving into the Lightsea, the teen strutted out of the endless waters behind Justini, the scalding heat already blistering his skin. While gritting his teeth, the young man forced through the pain and focused on his ice. The sword he had forged from his freezing, violent nature threatened to melt under the heat, but he held it together with his mind alone. The blade soared through the air, opening a crooked smile on the back of Justini¡¯s neck. But Justini reacted as if he had eyes behind his head, flipping his fury toward Eight and releasing a cloud of his Tide. The Anomaly vanished again, reappearing three hundred feet away, gasping for breath as the trees around his opponent ignited in flames. His skin peeled from the intense heat, but he ignored the pain, casting ice over the burns to cool them. Still, the damage the Anomaly had dealt wasn¡¯t minor. Justini growled out a fate while coming to terms with his own, ¡°Claudius Vermillion. Your name has grown in these parts. I hope you meet Hana in that realm. She will rip out your insides and feed them to her waves.¡± Claudius laughed in turn, excited by the new information. Information was power. He wasn¡¯t even aware that Hana the Gunwale, who feared across this whole Sector, would be wherever Praetor Sun was taking him. And now, thanks to Justini, he knew what he was up against. The Judge felt the weight of his last bullet as he took aim. It would take hours to recharge, but it was always worth the firepower. One shot to kill most Anachronisms, and allowed even the weakest Judge to help with the likes of Justini and Astraeus. Justini clad himself with his smoke, obscuring his form with the Judge, but it didn¡¯t matter in the slightest. The Tide-Seer proved his Designation by shifting the barrel aside. While only his Stigmata could see the past, his other senses were far more perceptive than they had any right to be. The minor shuffle of feet against dirt, the ruffle of clothes on air, and the rapid exhale¡ªall gave away Justini¡¯s position. Claudius fired. Again, the bullet tore through the steam, but this time, it had water wrapped around it, evaporating to keep the lead¡¯s velocity. Shortly after, a grunt of pain rang from the steam. Claudius glanced behind him, finding the other Dirge dead, and he smiled. After he holstered his pistol, he waved his hands to control his Tide. The Anathema was wounded harshly, too, but a beast such as him was the most terrible kind. ¡°Talander, Yue, be careful. He¡¯s fast. Nearly caught Eight. Rosa, focus on healing if someone is hurt. And... Eight, just do what you do best. Let¡¯s kill this one without any major injuries,¡± the Judge instructed his crew, circling the expanding cloud of steam. Meanwhile, he silently pointed to a spot in the mist, guiding their next move. Yue nodded, already taking fire. Her four revolvers broke the night¡¯s peace several times before the steam-clad figure finally emerged from his haunt. Claudius stepped in front of the charging Dirge, a veritable flood at his fingertips. More bullets flew while Talander darted in, slashing one with his blade before flicking his tail out in retreat. Justini reached out to catch the Irgen, but a glint of water warned him of danger. Justini clenched his fist around Talander¡¯s tail, choosing to endure the damage to his physique, but a cascade of lead slammed into his face at the exact moment, blinding him from the cutting waters. As he howled in pain, he released the swordsman and stumbled backward. He seemed to wish to withdraw into his safety net behind him, just one step away from the boiling fog. Nevertheless, he never would, for Eight struck again. Legs wrapped around Justini¡¯s neck, and two icy knives plunged into the sides of his throat. While contorting those instruments of death, Eight vanished once more before he was caught, finally collapsing to the ground from the awful temperature. With his knees on the torn-up dirt, he slammed his chest with a closed fist to breathe while the other retook his briefcase. Almost as if in sync with Eight¡¯s, Justini¡¯s knees gave out, too. The Cryo only glanced at the peeling flesh on his arms before tossing even more ice over it to help cool them down. A temporary fix, the kind that only an experienced warrior could administer. Rosa delivered the final blow. Her Stigma¡¯s thorny vines from her veins wrapped around Justini¡¯s neck, dragging him from the protection of his steam despite their immolation. The single yank was enough with his weakened strength. Once at the crew¡¯s footprints and without power, Claudius crouched with a smile, his grasping palm excited to see what he could uncover. Justini¡¯s trembling eyes, quickly bleeding out, looked up to only glimpse those fingers, the opened cascade of death falling upon him. His last thought was not of his dead friends, born from the same waves as he, but instead of how many more this monster would take from his birth-waters. 35 - Ceaseless Voyage Now, we move on to the changes among Cultivators. The recently inaugurated Ganun stands as our most formidable Cultivator, the pinnacle of physical strength. After mastering countless techniques and combining his peerless talent for battle, he brought Oswort to a draw. Congratulations, Ganun. Welcome to the Shattered Peak. Few walk the path of a Cultivator of their own free will. It is oft only the untalented that must torture themselves unto power. However¡­ I would rather have a Cultivator by my side than any other Designation in battle. While brutish and violent, they are those with unbreakable wills forged from endless training and hardship. A Seer can see the unseen, a Psion touch the untouched, and yet¡­ it is the Cultivators who can do the impossible. Let us give praise to: Praetor Oswen, for his survival in the Great Darkness. His blade shines brighter than it ever did before. Be wary of the light, lest you receive the shade. Time swung as eternally as it always had for Dante. No matter how much he wished he had, it was never given. The universe would never give him time to prepare to his liking, as he would never be satisfied. He spent days honing his Tide, accelerating the water, practicing with it as a rope, and slicing through bottles with increasing precision. Every day, he grew more adept. It wasn¡¯t just him¡ªothers grew, too. On this day, September 1st of Year 3993, Dante embarked on the first adventure he and his little brother had always dreamed of. He stood atop the Baron¡¯s residence, looking over the ruined planet stretched before him. His eyes scanned the surroundings, spotting countless Dirge living their bestial lives. Amongst the rubble, a few had evolved from rare Anachronisms to powerful Anathema. Dante held little kindness toward the new mouths, however. Neither did Astraeus, as the Dirge begged Thanaris not to send the ¡®weak¡¯ with them, but she wouldn¡¯t acquiesce. Dante understood, of course. She wanted as many bodies on this retrieval mission of hers as possible. Beside Astraeus at the rooftop¡¯s edge, he steadied himself, waiting for Thanaris to arrive. A scoff escaped Dante¡¯s lips as his gaze flicked toward the newcomers, ¡°Can¡¯t believe we¡¯re going with them. They¡¯re borderline sentient.¡± The Dirge, who ripped Dante¡¯s organs out at their first meeting, laughed strangely, shifting the dots on his face toward the strangers, ¡°They aren¡¯t that dumb. It¡¯s not Saerer¡¯s fault she can¡¯t speak yet. Not all Dirge get working mouths. But yeah... I think they might just make things worse for us.¡± Neither of them was thrilled. They spent weeks training together, refining their skills as a team, only for two more to be forced upon them now. Dante understood why, but it didn¡¯t matter. He felt irritated at not being informed ahead of time that new Anathemas would join, and Astraeus felt slighted, believing his master still found him too weak. Proof of this perceived weakness sat nearby on a rusted radiator: Saerer and Hatle, their forms looming divergently against the crumbling cityscape. Saerer, a female Dirge, rarely moved despite the shared words of derision before her. Her right hand gleamed with a sharp blade that caught the glint of the early moon¡¯s brilliance. The other hand, grotesque and mechanical with bony flesh, was clamp-shaped, resting without purpose in her lap. The Anathema¡¯s head was deformed, akin to a grotesque sprouting flower, half-bloomed and unnatural. Her mouth was little more than a shriveled slit, narrowly capable of speech, and when she spoke, it sounded muffled and strangled, like the words struggled to escape. Next to her, Hatle loomed, his frame massive even in his seated position. He resembled a creature Dante recalled from Judas¡¯ coloring books. A Minotaur¡ªexcept Hatle was far worse than those childish renditions. His upper body was that of a rhino, with a thick, gray hide stretched over muscular, expansive shoulders and a hulking chest. One dangerous horn jutted from his forward, while underneath the weapon, dark eyes scanned the rooftop with quiet, unnerving intelligence. Neither Hatle nor Saerer reacted to Astraeus¡¯ words, for they respected him as their better. He, after all, was their master¡¯s chosen warrior. Their eyes, however, did glare at Dante with unknown promises. Nevertheless, they quickly concealed their emotions as a pair of soft yet mighty footsteps approached them from the stairway. Dante and Astraeus, twisting away from the ledge, welcomed their Caesar. Thanaris stepped through the doorway, her ruby hair trailing behind her with wispy blood. She nodded to her first ¡®allies¡¯ before eyeing the other two, ¡°I know you aren¡¯t happy about this, Talker, Simmer, but the other Caesars will bring extra firepower, too. So will the Empires and whatever rats scurry through for this dimension-rush. Part of diving this deep was for some extra strength.¡± A moment after explaining her decision, and without waiting for an answer, the Caesar raised a pale arm toward the space before her. Dante¡¯s full attention was on her. He wanted to see precisely what she was about to do. However, as he watched, he realized he was still a million miles away from replicating even a fraction of her technique. Thanaris closed the Lightsea between her slim fingers, collapsing it in a motion similar to collapsing a Domain. But instead of releasing the energy outward, she inverted it. Dante did not know how she did it; he could only feel something shift, something profound.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Tide Reversal: Haunting Dreamscape.¡° The ground trembled subtly beneath his feet, and without a word, a rift in the atmosphere rent open before the Caesar¡¯s palm, its jagged edges crackling with bloody tears. The incision into space shimmered with colors that didn¡¯t belong¡ªhues that danced beyond the visible spectrum, shifting in ways that made Dante¡¯s stomach turn. In the eyes of a mortal, the sight was so nightmarish their insides lurched. ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± Thanaris murmured, her voice layered with a low, haunting hum radiating from the gash in the air, akin to the distant prayers of a choir half-forgotten by time. Dante¡¯s heartbeat quickened. Even Astraeus glanced nervously at him. The human¡¯s hands sweated, but he was filled with not just fear. There was boundless excitement embedded in his soul, too. No matter who he was with. No matter where he was to go. No matter the depths, he would have to dive. He was alive, and he was living his brother¡¯s dream. He might have missed his crew, but he would get them back. Then... So much more. The air thickened with roiling Tides from the Lightsea as Thanaris motioned them forward. Water flooded onto the floor while the ice blocks swept snowflakes within. The scarlet haze emanating from the dimensional hole told Dante that he had to hurry, and with a single step, Dante crossed into the rift. Then, the world collapsed around him. There was no sensation of falling, no transition he could capture with his eyes, ears, or even his nose. One moment, he was in the familiar world¡ªwet, solid, grounded¡ªand the next, the laws of reality dissolved around him. He floated, weightless, his body sinking into a vast expanse of sensory overload. The first thing to hit was the smell. It was overwhelming and carried the stench of an old hag¡¯s bloated corpse. The scent delved profoundly into Dante¡¯s nose, staining it eternally. Sound came next if it could be called a sound. Against his skull came a low, ceaseless drone, like the grinding of colossal, invisible currents revolving endlessly in the dark sea. Faint whispers brushed the edges of his consciousness¡ªvoices speaking dead languages or tongues never known to exist, murmuring secrets just out of reach. And finally, the Lightsea revealed itself. Dante stood, or rather, floated on an impossible boat of solidified blood in an infinite ocean of glowing mint-green water. The sea stretched out in every direction, flat and calm yet disturbingly alive. The waves below pulsed faintly, their glow flickering periodically with some unseen force, as if it were a heartbeat. His head swiftly raised upward to see the eternal stars above, but... There was no sky above. Not in the traditional sense, at least. A void existed above the dimension Dante found himself in, and it told him something simple. He wasn¡¯t where he belonged. As he stared up, however, he saw flickers of something beyond the void, possessed by an eerie green. He shook his head without hesitance as he forced the image from his mind. This was... Those of the primary dimensions should not be here. Dante knew it. And yet... He knelt beside the water, inspecting the bizarre color and nature. The water wasn¡¯t water. Not really. Dante knew it in his bones. Liquid, yes, but moving unnaturally, defying all reason. He broached out a hand, calling for his own Tide to gather some, but was told off by a stern voice, ¡°Stop. We are on the surface of the Lightsea. It¡¯s the safest and easiest to travel. Don¡¯t provoke a Leviathan.¡± Dante nodded to the Caesar, and he rose to his feet, finding all four of his companions with him. Astraeus, Saerer, and Hatle bowed their heads toward Thanaris as her feet linked to the boat beneath them. Suddenly, the threads connected in Dante¡¯s mind, and it all made sense. In order to travel here safely, you need to do whatever Thanaris just did. A Tide Reversal. Interesting. I wonder, though, what is down there? Where do starships fly when they jump? Is it down below or up above? So many questions. A deafening roar echoed overhead as if mocking his curiosity, and Dante glimpsed a starship leaping through the sky. It was only visible for the briefest instant before vanishing through a shattering rift. The collapsing rift was far more deafening than the entry, causing waves to balloon across the nearby sea and shake the vessel. Astraeus saw Dante¡¯s awe and pointed upward with his left hand while the other gripped the boat tensely, ¡°Your ships have special shields that last long enough to leap through. Without them, though, just one ¡®jump¡¯ could destroy a ship if the crew was unlucky. You and yours... lucky bastards surviving two.¡± Dante nodded, gripping the railing tightly. The unsettling sensation of being in this realm gnawed at him. But it wasn¡¯t the sight, smell, or unnatural sounds that disturbed him the most¡ªit was that feeling. The Lightsea pressed against his mind. It was aware of him, of all of them. He could feel its presence brushing against his thoughts like a thousand unseen hands. And these hands were more than just there. They were poking, prodding, rifling through his mind and body. It was as though the Lightsea itself was curious, assessing whether he was worthy to survive its waves or perhaps just something to be consumed. These... people come from this place? How? Dante¡¯s eyes lingered on the endless mint-green waters with bewilderment and amazement. He shook away the fear before turning to face Thanaris. Her face was dispatched toward the horizon or what passed for one in this place. Her expression sat serene, but there was an edge to it, something dark and unreadable. She didn¡¯t seem bothered by the bizarro oceanscape, as though the Lightsea was her home. Though Dante supposed it was. Without turning, the Caesar spoke to her subordinates, ¡°The Lightsea knows you¡¯re here. And because you¡¯re not of these waters, it will desire you. You¡¯ll see things, feel things¡ªtry not to let it drive you mad.¡± As if on cue, the water rippled beneath the waves, subtle at first, but soon it became more pronounced. Shapes swam narrowly beneath the surface, scarcely visible through the radiant water. They glided lazily, with serpentine bodies, but their faces... Dante squinted, leaning closer to the edge to get a better look at the familiar figments. With a sharp step backward, he realized that they were reflections¡ªwarped and distorted versions of four of them. Dante¡¯s own reflection stared back from the water, its eyes hollow and empty. The mouth twisted into a grotesque mockery of a grin, mocking him. The reflection spoke, though its lips did not move, ¡°Now, if you would die, that¡¯d be great.¡± the voice that spoke was Dante; it was Judas. The sound of it sent a chill down his spine, reminding him of the curse that lingered over his life. However, the other reflections were similarly wrong, telling Dante it wasn¡¯t just Judas¡¯ typical curses. Astraeus¡¯ was covered in cracks, his dots leaking dark liquid into the sea. Saerer¡¯s and Hatle¡¯s reflections were melting, their bodies dissolving into the water like wax figures left too long in the heat. There was one exception. Thanaris had no mirror reflecting her countenance. The Lightsea dared not scorn her. Everyone gathered within the boat¡¯s center, as near to the Caesar as they could. Even Dante¡¯s back was pressed against her shoulder. He couldn¡¯t find an ounce of calm here, not a second to regain his focus. As if to threaten him further, the boat rocked as a sudden gust of wind, cold and harsh as broken glass, swept over the surface. Dante shivered despite Surewinter¡¯s aid. He couldn¡¯t imagine what it¡¯d be like without the technique, though it felt less cold and more like the sensation of being watched from a thousand unseen angles. ¡°Keep your mind sharp,¡± Thanaris warned Dante, her voice unnervingly calm. ¡°Train while you can. You¡¯ll be fine if you don¡¯t go over the edge. If another Caesar floats by... then I¡¯ll make you help.¡± Her words were both reassuring and ominous. Under them, the boat glided forward, propelled by a current of blood-red water that emerged from the rear, cutting through the glowing sea. Beneath them, the figures followed, swirling in chaotic patterns, their eyes never leaving the five aboard. Astraeus¡¯s voice broke through the eerie stillness, ¡°How far do we have to go?¡± Thanaris didn¡¯t answer immediately. Her eyes became fixated on the horizon, though there was nothing there¡ªonly an endless sea and infinite darkness. ¡°Space works differently here,¡± she said at last, with a low, sheering hum. ¡°With enough knowledge, you can navigate it. A few weeks to a month, as I¡¯m still searching. It depends on how tumultuous the sea is when approaching the Lost Reaches.¡± The thought of spending weeks in this strange, mind-bending realm made Dante¡¯s skin crawl. He suppressed a shudder and seized the moment to learn more about this place. He might never get another chance like this. ¡°Were you born here? Originally, I mean,¡± Dante solicited an answer while staring at the Caesar. Thanaris nodded, offering a brief explanation before waving him off, ¡°Yes. Deep in the depths. As we all are. Caesars can break through space for themselves and others, which is how most young ones enter the Primary nowadays.¡± She waved him off before he could ask more, ¡°Now, no more questions. I need to focus.¡± Hearing that she had to give her all to something, Dante¡¯s eyes widened, and Astraeus¡¯ shifting face suffered a similar fate. Both clamped their mouths with quickness and decided on silence. Under no circumstances would they be the reason the boat beneath them was destroyed, and they ensured Saerer and Hatle would do the same. Their glares and threatening eyes shared the deaths they would deliver if both were not quiet. Saerer bowed her head subserviently while Hatle sat down beside Thanaris with a huff. Dante and Astraeus then felt another rumble in the sky as another starship pierced the Lightsea, leaving behind a swift frame of that distant, eerie green in the void. Once more, it made Dante sick as Astraeus leaned in close, whispering, ¡°That¡¯s another reason so many of us kill your kind. You¡¯re really fucking annoying. Not you, though.¡± The human wanted to laugh at the serious words that came off as a joke. But he didn¡¯t. Instead, he sat down, too, ensuring to lower his head to rest beneath the vessel¡¯s railing. Then, he started laboring through Surewinter, hoping to get enough mastery over the first cycle to attempt the second before their arrival. All the while, those unseen eyes burrowed into his being. They were watching. Waiting. Patient. Dante wasn¡¯t sure if they were there for him, Thanaris, or Judas. But they were there for one of the three, and that made his mind race for power. Power that he believed he would one day grasp between his fingers. 36 - Depths Deliverance ¡°Is a Domain the end? Is there nothing above an Absolute Limit? The pinnacle of the Lightsea? Is there no step beyond? Most Praetors ponder this, having reached such an impossibility. But there is yet one more stage. If a Domain Collapse brings the Lightsea into reality, the only way to show a higher mastery is to bring reality into the Lightsea. A Tide Reversal. By bearing the weight of the Lightsea and countering its collapse, one can physically enter its depths. It is not traditionally useful in combat, but it is critical for survival. Unless one who possesses a Reversal is forfeiting or gambling their life, they can escape practically any danger into its waves. A Domain is the ultimate attack, while a Reversal is the ultimate defense. Yet what lies beyond that? Beyond the Shattered Peak and into the heavens above? Where shall I place my feet? I do not know. If I discovered it in the morning, I could die by the evening.¡± As he shivered amid the frost in his body, Dante heard yet another echoing roar from a starship¡¯s engines fill the emptiness above. A groan originated from beside him, with his favorite Dirge¡¯s annoyance bursting into the humid air. ¡°Fuck.¡± It was a simple, blunt complaint, but it felt personal to Dante. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Astraeus as their blood-red boat cut through the waves, gliding toward their destination. Dante spoke quietly, careful not to disturb the Leviathans lurking in the depths below, ¡°Didn¡¯t you grow up here?¡± Astraeus shifted slightly, his body revolving glacially enough to not invoke any noise. Then, his eyes breathed in the seas behind Dante¡¯s back, not even looking at the human while he murmured, ¡°Yes. We grow in the Depths before being ripped into your realm. If we don¡¯t, typically, a Leviathan devours us. Like algae for a whale.¡± Dante nodded, the brutal reality of the Dirge¡¯s upbringing sinking in. It was pure survival. Nothing else mattered, even for those with an awareness of the larger world. He pointed discreetly toward their leader. Thanaris sat motionless in the center of the boat, utterly entranced by her Tides and the projection of the ship. As he caught her in that state, Dante took the opportunity to ask, ¡°What about her? Did she come that way, too?¡± Astraeus¡¯s eyes hardened as if Dante had unknowingly insulted the Caesar. His voice fell to a sharper tone. ¡°Careful. That could be an insult, to be a Wave-Follower instead of a Caller¡­¡± Astraeus paused. ¡°Sometimes, we aren¡¯t pulled through dimensions. Only the strongest, luckiest, and most terrifying escape to the surface. One day¡­ I wish to be a Caller.¡± The knowledge weighed on Dante as the sound of splashing mint-colored waves beyond the crimson boat filled his ears. He glanced over the edge for a split second, noticing the shimmering waters and shadowy silhouettes moving beneath the surface. Immediately, he wrenched his neck back, his heart stammering in his chest from a primal fear that dug more profoundly than Dante thought possible. Again, a chill ran through his spine, though it wasn¡¯t from Surewinter this time. With leaning his back against the boat, Dante closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe in and out, repeatedly, until he could calm his racing mind. The rhythmic motion steadied him, his thoughts narrowing to the rise and fall of his breath. Bit by bit, the energy within him synced with the icy waters surrounding him, bringing a chill to his core as he became more attuned to Surewinter. At first, the technique had been challenging to grasp, even requiring Astraeus¡¯s guidance. Now, Dante could channel it reliably on his own¡ªthough only when stationary. Progress was progress, however, and Surewinter granted immense benefits. The difficulty of the technique made sense, for it was not meant for the sentients of his plane and only built for the Dirge, but the benefits it granted were inadmissible. The frost flowed through Dante¡¯s veins, forming icy crystals in his blood. It was a dangerous power, one that could be unleashed with a sudden, devastating force. That was what the active use of Surewinter gave at such a low level. It was a surge of strength, primarily physical, but Astraeus had mentioned to Dante that it could be leveraged for one¡¯s Tide as well if used appropriately. That was all on top of the passive boons the human felt day to day from practicing the Sea Art. As he departed the tense focus, Dante clenched his fist, consuming all the crystallization within his body. Those fingers he held slammed shut with a clamp, bruising his own flesh and hinting that he was not yet ready to move onward. One had to bear one¡¯s own strength to progress with any Sea Art. Otherwise, they would just kill themselves in the utilization of their powers. Dante knew his situation wasn¡¯t that extreme, but it could be if he simply surged ahead without caution. He had a way to go before truly mastering the technique and using it in a fight. His mind wandered back to their earlier battle against Astraeus. The Anathema had held every advantage, with Surewinter possibly being the greatest. Dante¡¯s strongest allies, Claudius and Eight, had their own Sea Arts, but Surewinter¡­ was something else of its own. It was nearly impossible to beat with their strengths. The few sudden, changing, and rapid bursts of power Astraeus had shown now made so much sense to Dante. Furthermore, his resistance to Eight¡¯s blades was uncanny. Blood was drawn, yes, but the ice didn¡¯t bite as it regularly did. Dante wished for that power. If he could dance around a group of deadly Seafarers in such a way... The limits of his horizons would broaden beyond his imagination. As such, he delved back into his mind. He had many things left to do before advancing to the second tier of Surewinter. Dante had to make the frost form faster and with more significant effect, and finally, he had to ensure a way to hold the frost within him, even if only for a few motions. Astraeus had mastered the first two, formation and quality. Dante, however, cared more about timing. And it was that very time he so desperately wished to master that passed by unabated, with the five approaching their destination at a rapid pace.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ************************ The alarms within the Skull of the Marooner blared, casting crimson and yellow light across the metallic walls of the ship¡¯s interior. Only Archimedes truly understood the meaning of every sound, though Lucius moved efficiently around the vessel, lending a hand here and there. Rejo stared blankly at the screen that displayed the ship¡¯s inactive guns. Sonna and Joan, however, peered down at the device in their hands, utterly stunned by the sight left behind. The doctor¡¯s brows furrowed in disbelief while Sonna blurted out the question within both minds, ¡°How did his vitals vanish? They were fine, a little elevated, sure, but then, they cut off!? What!? We¡¯re so close!¡± Outside the ship¡¯s window, Crislend loomed lifelessly, a dark and empty planet without power to its megacity. While other ships debated whether it was okay to return, Archimedes zoomed in with the ship¡¯s camera, revealing the truth on the elevated screen. Creatures. Thousands of them. Twisted, grotesque figures, each one a nightmare of limbs, blades, and bone, swarming the planet¡¯s surface. Most were lowly Anaphages, with some Anarchies scattered among them, but every few hundred figures, an Anachronism stood among the horde. Suspiciously, however, there were no Anathemas¡ªnothing higher than an Anachronism. Sonna approached the specialized glass, leaving Joan to investigate the tracker left in Dante while the Weren pressed a hand against the frigid surface. Then, her eyes flickered to the camera before she spoke to the crew, ¡°The scary ones might just be hiding in buildings, but we don¡¯t see any fishy activity. No raised towers. No constructs at all. Not one sign of ships coming up, either. It¡¯s like... they left. Into thin air. Without building any infrastructure like Claudius warned about.¡± Lucius, finishing up a job for Isaac, stood beside her, nodding along with her thoughts, ¡°We know so little about these Dirge. Maybe... the powerful like that female can just do that.¡± Then, after a moment, he added his own. ¡°Either way, we need fuel. And repairs. Arch can¡¯t work on this thing without resources.¡± Sonna sighed, her breath fogging the glass. She turned to Lucius, meeting his gaze, ¡°We have two options. We land, or we attack one of these ships. I¡¯d rather risk the evil we know. Drop us at the Starport.¡± Somehow, in Dante¡¯s absence, Sonna had become the de facto leader. She didn¡¯t envy the responsibility, but someone had to make decisions. She considered Lucius the next candidate, but he was too preoccupied with Archimedes¡¯ many needs to worry about everything else. With the rest of the crew how they were, it fell to her. That meant she had to be the one to decide for now while others merely followed. Lucius relayed the command to Archimedes, and the ship began its descent toward the planet. Most of the surface was water, with scattered cities, but their target was the largest: Eratan. Sonna observed the controlled fall, or a ¡®descent¡¯ to Archimedes, with frenzied eyes. The rumbling and shaking of the ship¡¯s innards did nothing to soothe her nerves. The edges of the glass glowed red as the ship heated, though the cooling systems spun up in response. Amidst the Weren¡¯s panic, a doctor arrived by her flank, but not for comfort. She had a hypothesis on Dante¡¯s condition, and she shared it without a morsel of concern, ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s dead. It makes little sense. We need to head to where he disappeared. That¡¯ll tell us more. The Baron¡¯s office, specifically on the rooftop, was the last geotag.¡± Sonna could only agree. They possessed no other course of action. They¡¯d have to work on repair and then fly to Baron¡¯s office. If there was a figure capable of lowering the Lightsea upon them, they would just have to kill the Dirge to escape freely. And if that Anacrux was lying in wait for their fragile hearts to touch the ground on the planet, then... Sonna could only give her life in exchange, for it was already owed. With bated breath, the woman gazed without a wink through the glass while the chaos behind her kept the starship in action. At the surprise of the others, Rejo and Joan joined in the hurry to put out fires while the Marooner practically imploded. Even so, no one asked Sonna to help, and that was not for her inability. Seconds passed as the starship grew nearer and nearer in the Weren¡¯s bulging pupils. The sight reflected in her lenses, and she saw, upon the surface of the docks, opened pods of blooming flesh. Sonna flinched with a bone-deep tremor as she recalled the Anachronism that Dante had seen the last time they were here. Still, she didn¡¯t say a word until the vessel of wobbling steel had landed. During the process, her mind scurried, imagining a thousand things. What would he do here? He¡¯d use all of us to our best abilities. And how would that be done? He¡¯d ignore feelings and only use our skills. That means... despite what I want, I won¡¯t be going anywhere. The moment it did, however, she turned to face the four behind her and put on her best impression of Dante, ¡°We need repairs. We also need to verify Dante¡¯s situation. Rejo. You and Joan will go. Use your Stigma to mark an item here to transport her back in an emergency. Then, you can use it yourself with a gun or knife to escape.¡± Joan nodded, following the idea the plan proposed. Rejo could effectively transport one person back safely, meaning he could turn a duo¡¯s risk into only the risk of a solo. Furthermore, by marking himself and a bullet, the Araki could displace himself hundreds of feet away in a second. It was likely exhausting, but it was better he passed out from fatigue when safe than being devoured by Dirge. Rejo didn¡¯t argue as he was excited to leave the ship after being cooped up for days within its bleak walls. That meant Sonna was free to continue her plan with the rest of them, whom she pointed to, ¡°That leaves us three. Arch. You¡¯ll do what you can to get us good for a jump. Maybe two. Lucius. You¡¯ll protect him here. I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll find that Anachronism. And I¡¯ll kill it myself or lead it to you for help.¡± Her voice stuttered mid-way through, but she found her groove, nonetheless. More agreements came as Lucius triple-checked his firearms and knives. Then, he strode to the hangar of the ship, where Rejo and Joan were already on the move. Sonna brought Archimedes a reassuring smile with a hovering pat, not quite touching his shoulder, before she strode toward them as well, leaving the boy to toil earnestly. She knew that the creature here was likely controlling all the Dirge around somehow. Dante mentioned that it was some kind of mother or host to the rest. She would have to kill it to prevent an endless wave from coming at them. From what Sonna knew, Anachronisms weren¡¯t that strong or intelligent. Well, they were, but only to a certain extent. If it could birth so many ¡®children¡¯ and possessed formidable power itself, then it would have to be an Anathema instead. But it wasn¡¯t. Why did Sonna believe so? Because it would¡¯ve challenged Astraeus, or done something. It just made little sense for this one to rest while the space-slashing, no-faced creature bore all the weight for the Dirge on this planet. As the woman inhaled deeply, her stomach lurched in her chest as the hangar doors rose. There were no Dirge on the other side, thankfully, as the cameras had told them such beforehand, but seeing the ¡®eggs¡¯ up close was ten times worse than she expected. Ahead of her, Rejo and Joan had already dashed out of the ship, disappearing into the maze of corridors leading toward the open street on the other side. Rejo moved with his usual speed and ruthlessness while Joan, in her more diminutive, rodent-like form, perched easily on his shoulder. They were safe, for now. In less than five seconds, the Araki was out of sight from her. The Weren held little worry for the two psychos who feared Dante¡¯s disappointment more than death. Instead, she felt her hands shake even further. Lucius gave her a last nod of encouragement from his position near the hangar¡¯s edge, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. His presence was comforting, even if he couldn¡¯t follow her into the heart of the danger she was about to face. ¡°You¡¯re the best shot we have,¡± Lucius called over, his voice calm and steady. ¡°Just trust your instincts. I¡¯ll be here if you need backup. You¡¯re a Psion¡¯s daughter, remember?¡± The words, especially the finale, did little to raise the woman¡¯s confidence, but they managed to dig that ever-growing well in the pit of Sonna¡¯s stomach lower and lower. She knew she wasn¡¯t special, not in the slightest bit. Even so¡­ Her teeth bit into her lips, drawing the slightest tinge of iron onto her frenzied tongue. The shock of the taste forced her legs to move, for Sonna had no other option but to do this. If she didn¡¯t, she¡¯d get them all killed. Not just herself. Sonna couldn¡¯t let that happen. The others had placed their trust in her, and sure, they agreed to their positions easily, but that didn¡¯t matter to her. Someone. Several. Trusted. Her. With her chest puffed out, she hurried outside, shedding Arido from her skin with each pounding step of her legs. While she did so, her senses expanded beyond normality. Sonna hadn¡¯t run using her Tide before, but she was forced into managing the sensations as she leaped off the side of the stairs, right toward Rejo¡¯s departure. She froze when she reached the broken doorway, inundated with information. Rejo was out of harm¡¯s way, already through the entire hallway and out into the street at large, but her mists saw much more than that. There were hundreds of snarling, disjointed creatures in the darkness of the Starport. They tended to stay away from the light of the midday sun, and as such, she felt them all bunched and close together within the innards of the building, not the open-air hangar in the center. Heads turned in her direction, giving up on chasing the Araki after a scarce few seconds. Sonna¡¯s heart stopped, and then the growls came, directed at her instead of the escaping man. The pounding footsteps grew nearer in a matter of seconds. Then closer. Before she moved an inch, Sonna¡¯s eyes could see a dozen figures crash around the corner, uncaring for their own safety as they desired her flesh. Then, and only then, did her mind awaken for survival. The haze dug into their skin, extracting life and vibrance from all of Sonna¡¯s pursuers as she turned and ran down another hallway. The Weren continued, rounding the next corner with her right hand. More and more spawned Dirge bark, growl, and snarl with fevering hunger for her soul and spine. Sonna¡¯s heart ramped up higher and higher with agony as the mists refilled her with energy only slightly slower than she lost it. Panic and self-preservation ate into the woman¡¯s mind, but through the dark corridors, her only way forward using the Tide as a navigator, she willed the haze further. Sonna refused to leave the Anachronism untouched or unfound. Under the threat of death, she leaped through a closed door that splintered with her speed and then dove through another into a hallway with Dirge on both. Then her veil progressed far enough. She sensed it. The Anachronism. It was some kind of many-legged wolf hanging on a ceiling. Unfortunately, it was behind the sea of monsters to her right. It would be impossible for anyone but her to even notice, considering it wasn¡¯t all that large, hardly the size of a boar, hidden by the sheer number of spawn. Like many times before, the Weren froze at the sight of so much danger. Behind. Left. Right. It was all screaming death into her ears and eyes. In defiance, Sonna closed those eyes and shut off the ears. She sank into the haze, the nooks and crannies that only Arido could provide. And with that, she faced down the right side, her focus so intense that the veins upon her skull bulged dangerously. Roars resounded every which way, and a claw came swooping for her head from behind. Yet, Sonna was already gone, scrambling forward where life was least likely to be found by prying eyes. 37 - Engulfing Haze Next are the Psions. Praetor Pathos helms the pinnacle of mental might, taking the reins after Legate Gusha¡¯s passing. As the brightest mind of the Romans, Pathos leads innumerable divisions, but few recognize his strength, which nears the Shattered Peak. Psions exist in a gray area because people often misattribute their abilities to raw intelligence, Stigmata, or luck, leaving many unnoticed or undiscovered. But let me make something clear. A person can only be so smart, so clever before their mind bleeds into reality. Whether lifting a rock with their mind, diverting a bullet, or jumpstarting a starship, all may fall under the Psion¡¯s claim. One does not need a Qualae to display their talents; they only magnify them. Keep a keen eye on those that manifest miracles. Let us give praise to: The unknown minds that Praetor Pathos awaits in his laboratory. Sonna staggered around a corner, a shadowy figure launching itself at her from the right. She ducked instinctively, and the creature flew straight over her head into the mob of monsters chasing behind her. While panting with ragged breath, Sonna fought to inhale enough air when a rush of energy suddenly surged through her veins. Arido¡ªthe devouring mist, as some called it¡ªfueled her body, strengthening her muscles and pushing her beyond her limits. While pumping her arms, Sonna ran with the fury of a woman possessed. She rounded another corner and glimpsed the dim light of the outdoors, the hangar looming just within sight. Sonna¡¯s mind flickered to Lucius, and she could only place her trust in the Martian. Her eyes twisted back as she ran, noticing the veritable horde chasing her. Over fifty Dirge chased her¡ªmost of them Anaphages, the lowest and weakest form of the Dirge. Among them were some even more dangerous Anarchies, with the most threatening being the sleuthing figure of an Anachronism at the rear. Sonna sprinted for the open doorway she had entered through, desperately searching for Lucius. Fortunately, she didn¡¯t need to search long. The man¡¯s shout echoed through the air before she could see him. ¡°Dive!¡± Sonna didn¡¯t waste a second asking or thinking. She just did. The woman leaped forward across the doorway¡¯s entrance, barely sliding over a thin steel cord attached to each side of the door. Her face slammed into the ground, her arms scraping painfully along the surface, but the agony dulled as gunfire roared above her. She rolled, blinking through the pain, and turned to see nearly a dozen Dirge piled right at the cord, their legs taken out by the hard metal. Lucius was ahead of the chaos, systematically firing his bolt-action rifle, the snap of each shot like a clock¡¯s steady tick. With one hand on the trigger and the other priming the bolt, Lucius fired with cold efficiency, dropping one Dirge after another with precision. The time between shots was precise, like that of an oiled machine. In awe, Sonna watched Anaphage after Anaphage have their skulls detonated by a double tap. Sonna had seen countless experts wield guns, both high-tech ones and those that were more antique. But nothing compared to Lucius¡¯s brutal control of the battlefield. Even the way Lucius loaded rounds stored in his palm while he pulled the bolt showed a mastery that Sonna refused to believe she had in anything. The Anachronism howled in rage from beyond the pileup of Dirge at the door, and Sonna felt her instincts snap to attention. Once more, she towed the Lightsea into her grasp. The haze clung to the creatures like a parasite, draining their vitality and slowing their movements. It gave Lucius just enough time to thin their numbers further. The moment Lucius spotted the monsters¡¯ reorganization, he called out to Sonna, ¡°Retreat! And use your gun, for God¡¯s sake!¡± all while the man retreated on his own, tossing aside the now-spent rifle to draw a revolver. He had run out of extra rounds nestled within his palms. It was a blessing and a curse that Rejo had so many firearms stockpiled. A blessing, for it gave everyone a breadth of tools at their disposal, and a curse, for... It was Rejo with the weapons. Yet, in this instant, Lucius could only thank Rejo for his gun obsession. Otherwise, they would only have his hatchet to work with. Sonna fumbled with her own gun, managing to pick off one Dirge with a full chamber, but Lucius¡¯s unerring aim kept them alive. Together, they scrambled up the hangar stairs and ledges toward their ship. The sound of claws scraping metal and the guttural growls of the Anaphages below chased them with every step. Despite the chaos, Sonna¡¯s mind stayed sharp. Her instincts locked in on the shifting life around her, sensing the retreat of the more powerful Dirge. Lucius¡¯s brutal precision had thinned the weaker ones, relentless as they were. Seconds later, the two reached the entrance to their ship, their backs against the hull, catching their breath for the briefest of moments before the next wave of Dirge followed. Lucius, ever the dutiful soldier, glanced within the ship and saw Archimedes¡¯ eyes peeking around a corner. He offered a simple smile, then turned and calmly sheathed his gun while drawing the hatchet from his belt. Lucius didn¡¯t waste a second before launching himself at the nearest Anaphage, swinging the blade with a swift huff. The hatchet cleaved through the creature¡¯s skull with an impossible strength, splattering the dark ichor across the ship¡¯s ramp. Sonna stayed close behind, her mists coiling around the edges of the hangar¡¯s ramparts like serpents, draining the vitality from the horde with each passing second. She knew her power wasn¡¯t direct or fast, but it was insidious, wearing down the Dirge. Lucius continued hacking apart the weaker enemies, his movements brisk and brutal, while Sonna¡¯s Tide sapped their strength from the shadows. But Sonna noticed something unsettling¡ªthe numbers were dwindling too quickly. Fewer enemies were charging at them now, too few for the size of the horde she had sensed earlier. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Something was up. As Lucius severed the last Anaphage¡¯s head from its body with blood dripping down his fingertips, Sonna¡¯s mist reached farther, stretching into the region beneath the ship¡¯s elevated platform. That¡¯s when she felt it¡ªthe distinct, pulsating presence of the Anachronism pulling back from the fight. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she raced for a conclusion. Why did it retreat? Why did it even chase me in the first place in the hallway? Sonna¡¯s gaze narrowed, her heart steadying as realization dawned. The Anachronism hadn¡¯t been chasing her out of predation. It had responded when she hurt it as her mists sapped its vitality. It was being defensive. And now that she had stopped siphoning its life, focusing on those in front of her, it fell back to safety. The creature displayed enough wisdom to step back when it seemed defeated but lacked the intellect to comprehend the complex workings of Tides. The Weren stepped back, her fingers trembling slightly as she ventured deeper into her Tide. While she focused on the retreating presence of the Anachronism, she extended their grasp by stretching her mists outward. Ghostly smoke billowed from her body, and Lucius gave way to its presence, cleaning his hatchet while reloading his weapons. He knew the battle was not yet over. After a few moments, Sonna could feel the Dirge, discerning its wolf-like figure lumbering away. Her mind locked onto its essence, and with a sharp, violent tug, she pulled at its life force. This time, however, was different. She wasn¡¯t spreading out the haze. Instead, she consolidated it. She would forgo the versatility of its breadth and seek only the depth of pain it could invoke. The creature¡¯s roar echoed through the hangar. ¡°Lucius!¡± Sonna gasped, her voice strained as she turned to him. ¡°It¡¯s coming back!¡± Lucius didn¡¯t hesitate. He holstered his hatchet and quickly retrieved another firearm from his belt, the rifle this time. He nodded toward Sonna, understanding her plan without needing further explanation. The Anachronism, along with its remaining Anarchies in front of it, rushed toward them, its many spider-like legs skittering across the metal floor with its grotesque body twisting with unnatural speed. Hints of water flowed from beneath its paws, increasing its speed further. Sonna noted the creature as a Hydro, like Dante and Claudius. Though, it seemed weaker than both at the element, even the one who had such a Tide for a scarce day. Still, it was an omen, and they moved the moment they heard the clangor heading their way. The two of them slammed the ship¡¯s door shut just in time, the ramp groaning under the immense pressure of the Dirge pounding on the other side. For a moment, there was silence inside the ship while claws, teeth, and water scraped against the steel. The only sound within the ship was the labored breathing of Sonna and Lucius. They looked at each other while indents appeared in the steel door. Dirge were vastly more physically powerful than those of the primary dimension, of the Fathoms. There were infrequent exceptions, even if one stood on the ship at that moment. But Sonna still had more to do. She wouldn¡¯t simply hide within the ship to die, for the Dirge would make it an inevitability. She crouched down near the bottom of the door, finding the small gap she had deliberately left open. Her fingers brushed the cold steel as she whispered into the mist. Slowly, it seeped through the crack, a thin, nigh-invisible veil creeping out toward the Dirge. On the other end, she sensed two dozen enemies. They had minutes at most before the Dirge were rushing in to kill them all. Minutes. Sonna pushed her mind further than she ever had before while closing her eyes and biting her lip until crimson dribbled down both her chin and her nose. The haze thickened, as a result, nearly reaching the viscosity to obscure vision. The effects were subtle, almost imperceptible, however, to so many creatures. Such damage was slow, but it added up. She could feel the Dirge weakening, their vitality being drained bit by bit. At the same time, her lungs filled with energy, the lifeblood vitalizing her to the core. Sonna¡¯s hands vibrated with energy as she held the revolver in her hands, preparing for its subsequent use. Arido stole much from the user¡¯s will, but it gave equally in return to their flesh. The pressure on the door intensified, claws scraping against metal with a screech. The creatures outside were determined to break through. But Sonna pressed harder, her mind straining to the utmost as the mist thickened. ¡°They will not get through before we finish them,¡± Lucius muttered, standing ready with his gun in hand. ¡°And if they do... I can take them one at a time through the hole.¡± Sonna nodded, though she could feel the strain on the door. It was only a matter of time before the relentless Dirge would weaken it. But they were running out of time, too. Finally, the pounding stopped. The creatures, realizing they couldn¡¯t break through in time, began to retreat. The intelligence of an Anachronism wasn¡¯t to be underestimated. It realized the plan here. Lucius exhaled dryly, ¡°They¡¯re pulling back.¡± Sonna narrowed her eyes, for she could not let the creatures run away. They had to die here so that the crew could salvage parts within the Starport. ¡°Not for long,¡± she said as she reached for the controls at the door. Howls filled the air as the Dirge stumbled under the onslaught unloaded into their backs, and once again, they turned to charge back toward the ship. The two quickly slammed the door shut again, bracing for another round. With the wall between them, the back-and-forth continued¡ªDirge charging, the two firing their weapons, then retreating. The Anachronism¡¯s intelligence was noteworthy, but it wasn¡¯t sentient yet. It couldn¡¯t simply grasp that it was being worn down bit by bit. Its horde of Anarchies fell one by one, gunned down in the relentless exchange until only the monstrous Anachronism remained. Almost a minute later, the final round of gunpowder left the battlefield quiet. Only the Anachronism remained, its many legs scrambling backward as it attempted to flee, its body riddled with bullet wounds. It screeched and howled, flinging its jaw toward Lucius, but the soldier raised an arm in defiance. The teeth cut into his flesh but didn¡¯t go past the already-regenerating bone. Sonna and Lucius exchanged a glance, silent agreement passing between them. ¡°Now,¡± the Weren whispered, primarily for herself. Lucius raised his revolver, discharging shot after shot into the retreating Anachronism¡¯s back before releasing one round from his rifle, too. Meanwhile, using the sole word as encouragement, Sonna¡¯s mist surged forward, shrouding the beast and squeezing the last dregs of its vitality. The creature stumbled, its legs buckling beneath its weight as it tried to crawl away. Low whines escaped its throat, seeking life in any which way. But it was too late. The Anachronism collapsed wholly, its hideous form sinking into the ground, its many legs twitching once before going still. Then it evaporated, returning to the Lightsea, but Lucius moved before it vanished altogether. With blood dripping down his sleeves, he knelt by the body, opening the Immortal Corpse and taking the creature¡¯s essence. All the while, he cursed his own actions, ¡°This is vile. Spreading the curse further... Whatever. Isaac needs power.¡± Sonna, huffing for dear life, stood above Lucius, both of them covered in the blood of their enemies and their own. Still, she heard the man¡¯s words and asked curiously, ¡°You won¡¯t take it? An Anachronism isn¡¯t too bad to start off with. Fantastic, actually. Judges begin with an Anarchy if they¡¯re lucky.¡± The soldier, to her words, could only sigh. He showcased to her the spherical device, now containing a sloshing vitality. Lucius was not a man who enjoyed these creatures¡¯ power. All he wanted was for them to be gone, for if they were, none would suffer as his family had. Straight to the Devil¡¯s mouth, his family was sold out and delivered. The pious man spoke with honesty to the woman, finding her to be one of the few he had met in the past weeks that he had come to respect, ¡°No. I hate the Lightsea. I won¡¯t ever take their strength. Even if it means my death. However... Isaac wants it. And... I can¡¯t take such things from him. Not like I did to my son.¡± Sonna looked up at the towering man as he rose to his full height. She hadn¡¯t ever heard about his family before. Before, she had thought he was solely a mercenary, like Dante and Rejo, who was locked up for his crimes. The woman reached out, grabbing his arm gently, ¡°Your son? Is he...?¡± Lucius nodded before limping back toward the ship. With each step, rivulets of blood splattered down his body, revealing his genuine injuries. They were far worse than Sonna had thought, for she only had some cuts and scrapes. The Weren rushed ahead while Lucius crumpled at the ship¡¯s ramp, his head falling back to the doorway. Metal scrap and ruined steel surrounded his flowing blood, but he waved off the concerned woman before she could even get close. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯ll heal up just fine. The curse of the slow death affects humans and their creations. Just... let me rest a bit. Things should be clear for now. Keep an eye out and retrieve whatever Isaac needs. I need to sleep,¡± the soldier¡¯s eyes grew lidded while he bobbed his head mere moments after a heart-pounding battle. Sonna would have been worried had she not seen this man fall asleep within seconds during the brief respite before fighting Astraeus. Still, she knelt beside the man, gazing at his closed eyes. She could see how quickly this man would fall behind. A Martian, yes, but biology could only carry one so far. An Anaphage shouldn¡¯t be a problem for a well-trained soldier, while a group of them could take out Anarchies. Lucius had killed a squad of Anarchies after splitting apart a horde of Anaphages. His physicality was monstrous to Sonna, something unbelievable, but it wouldn¡¯t grow. Her Arido, her Tide, it would. Limitlessly. Well, maybe not, but it had a way to go before she reached her pinnacle. As for the soldier... This was his peak if he refused power. Sonna¡¯s eyes fell on the Immortal Corpse placed in his coat, visible by the damage to the fabric. Upon shaking her head, she stood and walked into the ship. They¡¯d give it to Archimedes when it was safer. Sonna didn¡¯t want to risk another situation like what befell Joan. For now, she had some random bullshit to find. Though, to Archimedes, this place might as well have been a gold mine. Nevertheless, her mind drifted back to Lucius while she entered the skull, finding Archimedes at the console. Before they finally put him down, how many could the soldier kill? Another Anachronism? Two? Three? Would he slay an Anathema? She wasn¡¯t sure. For now, she¡¯d take care of the one person Lucius seemed to care about. She felt for the man and wished he would do what must be done. But she wouldn¡¯t force him. She wouldn¡¯t force anyone to do anything. Just thinking about such a thing sent chills down her back. If someone wished to live and die by their will... Sonna wouldn¡¯t step in. Still, she could recognize one solemn truth. Lucius was a man on borrowed time, refusing the very power that could save him. 38 - Bloody Ballad The Roman Empire bans all religions that venerate any being other than our Legates. Prayer can be misused when not deliberately placed. We do not treat this lightly. Punishment for believing in a false God is death within all territories. A burly humanoid with tendrils of muscle flapping around his mouth panted, using the flesh to funnel more air into his throat. His eyes darted in every direction, alert to the crackling of lingering fires and the howls of the bestial Dirge echoing through the city. Although Anachronisms had some intelligence and Anathemas were capable of speech and higher thinking, the Anarchies and Anaphages in the city were practically monsters, searching for anything to satisfy their hunger. And Rejo was their prey. He clambered onto a rooftop, extending his palm for the small rat perched on his shoulder. The transfigured Harenlar scuttled into his hand, and Rejo crouched low, hiding from sight as his eyes scanned the streets below. A moment passed while Joan¡¯s tiny nose twitched, and her beady eyes scoured the city for directions. Then, she raised a little leg and pointed in a direction for Rejo to follow. He didn¡¯t wait a moment before sprinting away, building up speed before leaping across to another rooftop. He misjudged the distance. The impact was painful, sending him tumbling to the ground in a rough roll, but he pushed through the pain and scrambled back to his feet. He spoke to his companion as if she were to care for his condition, ¡°I¡¯m alright. Dante is more important.¡± The tiny rat on his palm remained impassive, staring into his eyes. Her silence gave him a brief moment of amusement, and he let out a soft chuckle before shaking his head and continuing onward. Bit by bit, the two traversed several blocks without being spotted by a Dirge. The monsters had spread themselves thin with time, and Rejo took advantage of their scattered positions, slipping through the shadows with precision. Step by restless step, they neared their destination. The Baron¡¯s office, a place once grand and imposing, now marred by the death that soaked its marble walls in a deep, tangible crimson. Rejo paused across the street from the office, hanging at the edge of the rooftop. Below, he saw a veritable horde of Dirge below. Hundreds of Anaphages. At least a dozen Anarchies. His stomach sank, and his tendrils lashed out with anxiousness. The boots below him scratched backward slightly as he realized just how difficult this might be. But a moment later, the Araki¡¯s mind reformatted the threat, as it always did. There was danger, but there was more. Beyond them, Dante had to be there. Why else would so many gather? The excitement coursed through his veins, and Rejo¡¯s heart raced. His hands instinctively came together, forming a sphere with his palms. Before he could act, Joan shifted back into her true form, cracking her neck before giving him a swift bop on the head. ¡°Stop being stupid,¡± she hissed. Then, pointing to the open window across the street, she added, ¡°Throw something across, teleport me in. Bring me back in one minute.¡± Rejo¡¯s mind shook, and he nearly agreed to the suggestion. He rarely thought for himself outside of battle, but here, in this moment, with his best friend¡¯s life on the line, he showed a measure of brilliance. He glared at Joan with a twist of his head and questioned her reasoning, ¡°What comes ¡®fter then? I can¡¯t ¡®leport you back.¡± Joan sighed with exasperation. Then, she pointed back to the office, ¡°Yeah, but nothing saw us the first time. It¡¯ll be fine. Just send me over. You can come if you really want to.¡± With a groan, Rejo reluctantly agreed. She was right. They¡¯d gotten in without any trouble. The Araki had a natural talent for city warfare¡ªclimbing walls, windows, and rails as if they were built for him. He was utterly unlike his farm-stuck kinfolk, and that made him proud. So, he reached for the empty magazine from his rifle in his belt. Then, glaring at it like the container owed him money, he forced his will upon it. Rejo¡¯s ¡®Mojo¡® settled upon the magazine to replace the pipe from the ship, and he hurled it toward the building shortly after. The metal casing clattered loudly as it arced through the air and crashed perfectly into the open window. ¡°Score,¡± he murmured under his breath, impressed by his own aim. All those years of hurling grenades had proven more than fruitful. He concentrated on the magazine, closing his eyes and feeling energy surge through him in that strange, familiar way. Joan vanished from his side, reappearing inside the Baron¡¯s building. The strain of teleportation weighed on him, but he ignored it. Dante needed him. Thankfully, simply transferring one of the two marks didn¡¯t matter at all for his endurance, but the transpositions still did. Without missing a beat, Rejo tossed another object and pressed a hand to his chest. A moment later, he teleported himself into the same room as Joan, crouching as his breath came in ragged gasps. Despite the mounting fatigue, Rejo forced himself to move. He had to do this, or Dante may stay gone. Joan was already moving during his bout of fatigue, her eyes darting around the room, scanning for any clues. Metal fragments and pieces of Dante¡¯s bombs littered the floor, centered on a desk. Rejo had no idea what any of it did, but he knew Dante¡¯s handiwork when he saw it. ¡°Dante was ¡®ere,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible. Joan nodded in acknowledgment, not saying a word. She took another brisk step and then raised her tracker to check Dante¡¯s status. Joan whispered back as she read the details, her voice tense, ¡°His last signal is close.¡± The two crept out of the room into the hallway, which was eerily silent as if the building had been abandoned in haste. They anxiously peeked into every room as they moved forward. The floor traveled with dried footprints, and the two assumed it was a Dirge who had wandered in from before. Most of the rooms, their primary focus, were destroyed or stripped bare¡ªexcept for two.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. One room was spartan, with nothing but a single bed and a snow globe resting on top of it. Inside the glass sphere, a tall, featureless man and a crimson-dressed woman stood in front of a cabin. The pair seemed almost... lovingly to the eyes, though the woman wasn¡¯t facing the man, making it more bizarre. Such a sight was strange, far out-of-place inside the lifeless city, but neither Rejo nor Joan lingered. The second room was more disturbing. Solidified blood refitted every surface in the room¡ªthe walls, furniture, and even the lamps pulsed with a sickly red glow. It was grotesquely beautiful but unsettling, yet after everything they had seen, it didn¡¯t register in their minds. ¡°Don¡¯t get distracted,¡± Joan ordered Rejo, knowing his tendencies. As she did so, her fingers pointed toward the staircase that went to the next floor. They approached the stairs, their eyes vigilant against the adjacent rooms as they prepared to head to the roof. All of a sudden, Rejo froze, his senses flaring as he felt a dull beacon of energy ripple through the air. It was faint but distinct, a sensation from the Lightsea, something that cut through the suffocating silence of the office. ¡°You feel ¡®hat?¡± Rejo whispered. Joan nodded, her hand reaching for the familiar grip of a Biotic. The Pouncer. With it in her palm, she felt secure, ¡°It¡¯s coming from that room. The one we skipped.¡± Without hesitation, for it might be a clue, they doubled back to the ruined room they had previously ignored. The back wall had been slashed open by what seemed like a water jet, bits of it still soaked. Rejo pushed aside a splintered piece of wood and stepped through the gaping hole in the wall. Beyond it was another room that they hadn¡¯t noticed before. It was hidden well, likely meant to remain concealed. As they stepped inside, their eyes were drawn to the far wall. A note sat stapled to the surface with a crude knife, pulsed with the same faint energy. Joan approached the note cautiously while Rejo stood to the side. The Araki could hardly read his own language, and the translator within his mind did little for the others. In his place, Joan yanked the note off the wall, examining the pulsing script that seemed to shift as she read it. Her face paled as she turned to Rejo, her voice barely above a whisper, ¡°It¡¯s from Dante.¡± Rejo frowned, stepping closer. ¡°What¡¯s it ¡®ay?¡± Joan¡¯s eyes scanned the note again, her expression growing darker with every word. ¡°He says he¡¯s on the way to something called the Inferose. We shouldn¡¯t follow and meet up with him on Chimera, the port toward the Clouds. He also said... that if we got here before a month had passed, more Anathema might spawn. Or others might have come on their own.¡± Rejo¡¯s muscles tensed at the news, yet he only cared about the former, not the latter information. He shouted in defiance, forgetting himself, ¡°No way!¡± We¡¯re following ¡®im!¡± Just as the words left his mouth, a low melody echoed from below, entering their bones like a sinful song. Rejo wobbled while Joan¡¯s eyes widened. She struck the Araki across his arm, hissing, ¡°Fucking idiot! Now we... fuck! Go! That sound... it¡¯s a Stigmata.¡± Joan pushed Rejo back toward the hole they had come from, and both hustled as swiftly as they could. While they sprinted back toward the window they came from, the sound rang out once more, this time coming from the hallway. Both entered the hall together, discovering a woman with dew dripping from her washed-out dress. The faint color somehow resonated with the sound. With just the second note from the woman¡¯s throat, roars resounded just outside. The horde had sensed them. The ground shook beneath their feet, and the howls of the Anarchies grew louder, yet none of the Dirge seemed to be willing to enter the building. Worse, somehow, for their minds, the woman¡¯s bare feet seamlessly fit within the dry footprints from earlier. That means she had been here the whole time. Joan¡¯s grip tightened around her syringe while another hand crumpled the note, her eyes flicking to the stairwell. She spoke under her breath to Rejo, ¡°To the roof.¡± They fled upward, boots slamming against the marble as the wordless carol continued to build in intensity, warping their senses and leaving them disoriented. Joan burst onto the rooftop and darted to the edge, where she gazed down at the monsters below. Their eyes gleamed with more than hunger¡ªthere was something far more primal in their gaze. She could see desire in their eyes. It was more than a mere craving for flesh. No, it wasn¡¯t even that. They wished for strength. And the only way to do so was to devour energy from other dimensions. Joan had done enough research to learn the motives of the Dirge. The lesser ones, at least. Before she could order Rejo, she witnessed a stone sail past her heading, flying across the street and landing on a roof. Then, a shout was the last thing she heard before her surroundings shifted, and she found herself on a lower rooftop. Joan then looked up, staring across the deadly aisle to see only the top of Rejo¡¯s head. A third and final melody burst through her mind at the same time, trailing blood down her nose and causing her vision to blur. Joan¡¯s hands reached for the Biotic that her hands had released, but she couldn¡¯t grasp it. She was far too dizzy to pick it up. Still, she forced her fingers to twist, sinking the Rat Biotic into her flesh. Escape was the best course of action. As her flesh wilted, she crawled away from the death sentence. On the rooftop, Rejo fared no better. The Araki collapsed under the weight of the hymn, his hands trembling as he marked his rifle round and himself with the last remnants of his energy. Footsteps boomed within his ears, a thousand times louder thanks to whatever had happened by the third note. Then, a timid voice asked, ¡°So this is where she ran off to? Thanaris really thinks she¡¯ll steal the Inferose? With this trash?¡± Rejo¡¯s eyes lifted themselves from the ground while he kneeled, finding that drenched woman standing before him. Her gaze didn¡¯t even fall on the man¡¯s broken figure while she lifted a hand to her chin. She thought aloud as if he wasn¡¯t even there, ¡°I could meet up with Geist, but he forked out a lot for Hana to help him. Hmm... Balba¡¯s scary. And I don¡¯t like Suaze¡¯s face. How about Wain? Yeah. That sounds good.¡± While she spoke, Rejo shifted his hands toward his chest in a desperate attempt to channel the Lightsea as ¡®Dante¡¯ had taught him. The Dirge saw his movement and frowned, finally taking notice as she crouched face-to-face with him. ¡°Domain Collapse? Really?¡± she said, crouching down so her face was only inches from his. ¡°You¡¯re way too weak for that, sonny.¡± Yet, despite her disdain, a moment later, something flickered in the air. A hint of the Lightsea. Immediately, as she knew the danger a Domain Collapse could present, she retreated, possessing hardly concealed fear. To her response, Rejo simply exhaled a weighty breath before grabbing his rifle. The woman¡¯s amusement turned into a sharp, predatory gleam, ¡°Nice try.¡± Then, as a knife-shaped hand raced for his head, catching his bluff, Rejo pulled the trigger and ripped the Lightsea to meet him. A dripping hand pierced into the concrete ceiling, drilling through the steel and marble beneath as the concentrated power of her strike continued downward and shattered the rooftop. Still, as the roof collapsed, the woman pirouetted backward onto the railing, finding a perch to stare outward. Her longest finger slid inside the concave of her mouth, and the mysterious figure licked the lone drop of blood that she drew. A long moan filled the air, ¡°Hmm... Delicious. I like him. But... there¡¯s no time. I really must be going. Bye-bye.¡± The presence vanished as Rejo fell from the sky in the distance, utterly split from Joan. He careened toward the ground from dozens of feet in the air. Despite his exhaustion and the line of opened flesh on his face, he looked down, tapping the next bullet that was loaded. Mid-air, he took aim, finding a distant Starport in his eyes. Rejo promptly pulled the trigger and reached for the Lightsea once more. A moment later, the man crashed onto the sidewalk of the Starport, blood dripping from the back of his head to join the laceration on his face. The definite concussion shook his brain and rattled his thoughts, yet Rejo, as if in defiance of his nature and birth, shook off the pain. He stood wearily, stumbling, and hardly conscious. His hand fell to the wall to his right, and using it as a guide, he waded through the warbling reality. The world, to his eyes, was worse than any drunkard had ever seen, but he didn¡¯t care. Rejo had a mission. He would take the Inferose with his captain, no matter what. They were way out of their league here, and Dante needed help, whether he would admit it or not. Despite the concussion, Rejo¡¯s thoughts were crystal, confident enough to find the piece of the puzzle that would solve it all. ¡°He... needs... me...¡± the Araki sputtered out while stepping through a dark corridor, one foot after another. His progress was glacial and only slowing further. Rejo¡¯s will was indomitable in its madness, more chaotic than any other of his crew. Still, the body had a limit. When he couldn¡¯t resist any longer, the man fell to the ground, crashing and falling motionless on the tile. He had been born in a world without violence. A simple farm-world. The worst one could find was a cattle¡¯s kick. But that wasn¡¯t enough for him. Without violence available to him, he sought it out. Day after day, as a child, a teen, and even an adult, he fought, whether it was in rings, alleys, or bounties. None of them were without cost. The injuries had piled up within his body despite the era¡¯s medicine. Rejo had been broken before. He had been left for dead. He had been alone for so very long. But he always got back up, even without a pillar to help him. His hands clenched, tightening up on the tile with a screeching noise as the Lightsea coursed through him. Yet, nothing came. No ice, no nothing. Rejo couldn¡¯t form the Tide, no matter how much he tried. The man had no clue how much time had passed, only that it would never work. So, he gave up and propelled himself with his failing arms. He only made it a foot off the ground before he lost strength. However, before he could hit the ground, four arms wrapped around his back. An impressed voice whispered into his ears as he lost consciousness, ¡°You¡¯re not who I thought you were, Rejo. As crazy as me? Yeah. But you¡¯ve got a spine where I have nothing. Thank you.¡± Joan had never experienced someone placing her life above theirs without a second thought or a moment of hesitance. All her experiences were with selfish bastards who vied for her medicine and knowledge. Rejo had simply thrown the rock and used his Mojo. He hadn¡¯t been asked, told, or blackmailed. He just did. With a grunt, her four arms dragged the bleeding Araki through the hallway and eventually out into the open hangar. There, Joan brought Rejo into the ship, passing the sleeping Lucius and the tens of mashed corpses. Without glancing at the dead, she tossed her patient onto a bed and got to work reknitting her crewmate¡¯s flesh. Joan always repaid her debts. She couldn¡¯t bear to let them enter her heart. 39 - A Scarlet Flight Then we have the Windbreakers. It is embarrassing to place myself here, so instead, I will raise Praetor Crownlean. Despite not having a Domain, she sits as Congress¡¯ Head-Praetor through her Puppeteer, providing her an endless sea of weapons alongside her Frigo. All, or the vast majority of Seafarers, levy their Stigmata as part of their repertoire. Windbreakers, however, resist the pull of the ¡®Sea by the unique abilities it affords to them alone. Instead of riding the sea and its winds, they turn against the Tide. We Windbreakers seek not mastery of another realm but mastery over ourselves and our connate attributes. Let us give praise to: Praetor Taiga, for his incredible Timeslip, allowing him to match a Cultivator¡¯s speed with little effort. Anomaly 666, for his Duplication. Even legendary items such as Oswen¡¯s Oathseverer can be copied for a time. The limits are near-endless. Tight hands gripped the rail inside the cramped pod, drifting through space toward a city-sized starship docked at a starless planet. Out the small port window, Claudius¡¯ gaze found the home of his Praetor. Beside him, gasps of awe escaped from the three recruits he and Eight had brought aboard after Crislend. Neither Rosa, Talander, nor Yue had ever seen a construct so massive in their lives. Such was no surprise¡ªonly around three hundred Praetors existed among the Roman Empire¡¯s billions of citizens. Each one commanded immense budgets, unparalleled manpower, and the sharpest minds to fulfill their duties. The fires behind the pod sputtered and deviated its momentum to aim for an opening in the colossal behemoth of steel. Yue¡¯s secondary eyes of her race fell on Claudius with a question, ¡°Have you been on this before? It¡¯s... mesmerizing.¡± The Judge nodded simply with a grin, ¡°Of course. All Judges must report to a Centurion at the very least. Those who are high-grade report directly to a Praetor.¡± Moments after he spoke, the surrounding metal rumbled as the pod docked with the ship. Claudius released the rail and moved to the door, swiftly unwinding the gear that secured it, popping the air-tight seal with a harsh hiss. The Tianshe stepped out into a vast hangar that stretched the length of a city block. Each footfall echoed alongside the hum of ongoing repairs and ships preparing to depart. Claudius glanced behind him as a military-suited man walked toward their mediocre vessel. The Judge spoke proudly of his superior in full view of her deputy, ¡°Praetor Sun is amongst the most influential Praetors in the Empire. Her ship, the Nova, is the largest starship not owned by a Legate. Some even say she is the next one to take up those empty thrones. The few Praetors that stand on the Shattered Peak¡¯s border are too old or have reached the end of their potential. My Praetor, though¡­¡± The approaching man, his gray skin camouflaged and hair cut to a buzz, chuckled at Claudius¡¯ words. After extending a firm hand, he addressed the arrivals with a nod, ¡°The Praetor is expecting you, Claudius. These your recruits? I¡¯m Centurion Rasa, I serve Praetor Sun.¡± The Judge grasped the offered hand, wincing slightly at the pain of Rasa¡¯s grip. But Claudius didn¡¯t complain, merely introducing his group to the man he¡¯d known since he was a child, ¡°Yes, sir. This is Rosa Heartwelt, Talander Sereous, Yue Yamare, and... the short one goes by Eight. Let¡¯s not keep her waiting, shall we?¡± Claudius hurried through the hangar, eager not to keep the Praetor waiting, with Rasa quick to join him. The others followed in single file, keeping pace. Rasa glanced back at the recruits as they descended the steps and entered the ship¡¯s long corridors. His voice lowered, bringing Claudius up to speed, ¡°I know you¡¯ve been training hard for this, but the situation might be more than any of us can handle. We¡¯ve got five Caesars inbound for the MD. Congress has only spared us one Praetor¡ªours. Originally, they wanted to skip this, citing it being too insignificant to matter like all the other MDs as war is on the horizon.¡± A long moment of silence held as the group turned a corner, passing by a Harenlar with each hand carrying some document. Rasa nodded to the hurried figure before continuing, ¡°We¡¯re outgunned, out-manned, and far from home already. Any further, and not even a Legate could reverse the ¡®Sea to save us in time. I¡¯ve urged her repeatedly to pull out of this, but she won¡¯t.¡± The Centurion paused ahead of a steel door, exchanging a concerned look with Claudius. Before he could respond, a voice came from beyond the door, slightly exasperated, ¡°Rasa. We¡¯ve discussed this. Come in, Claudius. There¡¯s room for all of you.¡± Eight entered first, confidently opening the door. Claudius and Rasa shared a silent glance over the younger man¡¯s head as they followed into the office space, which felt far larger inside than its exterior suggested. Chairs sat against the back wall near the entrance, while four were in front of the main cherry-wood desk. At the desk, however, was an extraordinary being. The Lightsea itself rippled visibly off her in radiant waves, like sunbeams with jagged edges. The brightness was so intense that Claudius¡¯ crew had to squint just to make out her figure. When they peered through the light, they saw a middle-aged Tianshe in a combat uniform. Knives sat crossed on her chest, a syringe of midnight liquid on her right, and a hand cannon on her left. Her face, however, remained obscured by the luminance pouring from her eyes. No matter how much they squinted, however, they could not see her face, for the light was too much. In unison, Claudius, Rasa, and Rosa saluted the Praetor. As her glowing eyes met theirs, the blinding light vanished, revealing a kind smile. Praetor Sun stood, returning the salute before sitting back down. ¡°Sit. All of you, please. Things aren¡¯t as simple as Rasa thinks,¡± she began, her gaze returning to the paperwork on her desk. ¡°This minor dimension¡ªthe MD¡ªis designated as Inferose. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve already heard.¡± The Nova¡¯s commander glanced down briefly before continuing, ¡°Yes, it¡¯s five against one. But I¡¯m not so timid as to surrender before it¡¯s begun. I can handle any of them¡ªThanaris, Geist, or the weaker three¡ªwith little trouble. And Dirge are never united. Thanaris and Geist are just as likely to fight each other as they are to attack me.¡± The room remained silent, everyone listening with rapt attention. Even Rasa bowed his head in resignation while Claudius¡¯ mind raced, considering every possibility. Praetor Sun hadn¡¯t finished. She glanced at the Anomaly before reading off a report, ¡°The Inferose, like all MDs, has a Dimensional Core. Vector-5. It could elevate any Anathema or prepare a Caesar for ascension. Congress doesn¡¯t care much because it¡¯s Fire-aligned, incompatible with the Lightsea.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Praetor Sun paused for a moment, as if knowing her student¡¯s words before they were spoken. Her once-radiant gaze flicked to Claudius before he even opened his mouth, ¡°Then why are we here? One jump away from the Lost Reaches?¡± Her grim smile returned, for she cursed her kin¡¯s ineptitude, ¡°Congress is more concerned with the looming conflict between Ostacean and Glaniece. They¡¯re negotiating a merger. War is already brewing, and the Legates won¡¯t let that merger happen. It would give them the upper hand. Vicar hasn¡¯t made his position clear, yet the others are in an accord.¡± She clarified by pointing to five star-shaped emblems on the wall behind her when she saw Claudius¡¯ confusion, ¡°But that¡¯s not the entire story. Though the Inferose might not be compatible with the Lightsea, that doesn¡¯t mean it can¡¯t be used¡ªlike Legate Nandum did with the Nightsphere in his youth to catapult him from commoner to Praetor overnight. Also¡­ there are undercurrents. Someone wants this thing. Bad. And I won¡¯t let them have it. If they do¡­ No. Just know this thing cannot be lost.¡± Those in the room nodded in understanding. While the minor dimension couldn¡¯t evolve a Dirge, it could be used strategically. A foothold in the Lost Reaches could push the borders of their Empire further. After all, much of the Empire¡¯s territory owed its thanks to the Nightsphere¡¯s protection. Furthermore... with how far it was beyond the edges of the three Empires¡¯ reach, it would allow for a foothold to push their borders. Everyone saw Sun¡¯s vision. That wasn¡¯t to mention the mysterious party the Praetor mentioned, either. Her thoughts were consumed by the war to end all wars, overshadowing the current conflict that Congress was caught in. Sun wanted to claim the Inferose, set up a new base of operations, and explore deeper into the Lost Reaches. Were it not for her own position and Vicar¡¯s go-ahead, she could never have come out this far. Still, one question remained. ¡°How do we actually claim these dimensions?¡± Claudius asked, pointing a finger toward the star representing Nandum. Praetor Sun, despite all her power, knowledge, and influence, could only shrug helplessly. The gray skin of a Tianshe glowed prominently as she ran her hand along her long, blonde hair. An unexpected sigh rang out within the office. Then, a scarred finger pointed back at Claudius whilst an order emerged from the Praetor, ¡°Only Nandum knows. Three MDs have appeared in the last five centuries, all too insignificant to matter. His dimension dates back seven hundred years. That¡¯s why I need you. I can¡¯t enter myself, nor can Rasa. Our auras are too strong, and they¡¯d damage the MD, or in his case, caught before entering and ripped apart,¡± Sun left a dangling finger toward the youngest in the room. ¡°You and your crew, with weaker auras, can slip in unnoticed¡ªespecially with him.¡± Anomaly Eight-Eight-Eight received the attention of the Praetor while his eyes were closed, and his chin was settled upon a clasped fist. Claudius bowed his head, nudging Eight to do the same. The Anomaly scowled but complied, knowing better than to defy his superior. ¡°We won¡¯t fail you, Praetor,¡± Claudius promised, his voice firm with conviction to the woman who had given him everything. He could never imagine refusing Sun¡¯s orders. She was kind to her own but fierce to all else. While she had not mentioned any rewards for the others, Claudius knew there would be plenty beyond the reinstatement of his House. Praetor Sun kept her people happy, and that is why so many were willing to die for her. Claudius teetered on the edge of that line. Should the postmortem include his family¡¯s return to power? Then yes. He would give it all, and¡­ The woman knew that. With a grin, she reached forward to ruffle Eight¡¯s hair. The young man returned her joy with hate, but the Praetor ignored such a thing. She instead slid forward a parchment to her favorite Judge. Claudius read its title before she even started speaking. House Vermillion Approved Unexile. His hands shook with equal parts excitement and fear. For he knew such a thing arriving early meant the mission might very well cost him his life. As usual, the Praetor was not unaware. Her eyes met each of Claudius¡¯ crew, with promise on her lips, ¡°What you are about to embark on is vital to our Empire¡¯s future. I believe the Lost Reaches are home to many more MDs like this one or secrets regarding them. Navigating the place is near-impossible, so we must take this stronghold.¡± Sun offered what few would ever receive from a Praetor by taking a deep breath and saying, ¡°Name a price, and if you succeed, I will honor it, no matter if you live or die.¡± Yue¡¯s many arms trembled with joy while Talander¡¯s sword hand shivered with glory. Rosa¡¯s eyes bloomed, the offer greater than she could have imagined. However, the last member of the crew didn¡¯t seem all too amused. Rosa went first with her desire, ¡°Instate me as a Judge. Then teach me as you have Claudius.¡± A curt nod sealed it for the Heartwelt. Next up was Yue, her twenty fingers running over her guns. Her voice rose into an uncharacteristically high pitch of excitement, ¡°I want four guns¡ªOstacean-made, capable of withstanding Domain Collapses.¡± Another bow elicited a squeal of joy from the Harenlar before she fell into an embarrassed quiet. Talander stood after her, leaning his entire upper body downward in respect, ¡°Please have Praetor Oswen train me with the sword. I wish to be his match.¡± A few moments of indecision passed while Sun¡¯s face entered a state of thought. Eventually, though, she agreed, ¡°I can make that happen. He owes me a few favors. I doubt he¡¯ll take you as a student, though.¡± Regardless of the stipulation, the swordsman was relieved enough to fall into his seat. Then, that left only the Anomaly, and he drew the Praetor¡¯s attention the most. Her brows furrowed, and wisps of light returned to her eyes as she peered at Eight, ¡°And what about you, child?¡± With a dense laugh, Eight sunk into his seat further, seemingly without a care for the world, ¡°Don¡¯t really care, just along for the ride. If you insist, though, one Congressional-Pardon to be used in the future.¡± A swift shake of the head only made Eight wave his hands. The young man truly didn¡¯t care. Claudius rose to his defense, ¡°Ma¡¯am, Eight is still young. And prideful for his great strength. As my reports told you, he could force me to a draw. Please just save the favor for the future.¡± After accepting her Judge¡¯s request, the Praetor stood up from her seat again. The lights within her eyes reemerged the renowned Stigma that could burn the minds of those she fought. After placing her hands on the desk, she gave them one final encouragement. ¡°We¡¯re low on time. Sneak into the Lost Reaches behind Nova. Be careful, Claudius. I believe in you. If I could, I¡¯d send Rasa with you, but any Centurion¡¯s absence would be noticed, let alone the Rakshasa.¡± Rasa, understanding the signal, began ushering the group out. Sun called out to Claudius one last time as they filed through the door, her voice soft yet filled with heart, ¡°Claudius, if your grandfather were here, he¡¯d be proud of how far you¡¯ve come. I know you won¡¯t fail. Prove his sacrifice wasn¡¯t in vain.¡± The door closed behind Claudius as he turned around to say something, Rasa standing right in his face. The short headshake told Claudius all he needed to know. Without a word, Rasa placed a firm hand on Claudius¡¯ shoulder and gently guided him down the empty corridor meant only for the Praetor¡¯s closest subordinates. As they walked, Claudius¡¯ mind drifted, thinking of all the stories he had been told about his grandfather. Too young to remember his face, let alone his parents, Claudius had always clung to the legends of Gaius Vermillion, the man who had fought for nearly a century, carving out entire Sectors and slaughtering millions of enemies in the name of the Empire. His titles were many, but all who heard his name knew him as the Drowned Dragon, second only to the Legates and the standing Head-Praetor, Crownlean. Yet, despite all his strength and accomplishments, posessing both a Domain Collapse and an Absolute Limit, Gaius¡¯ trust led to his downfall. He had allowed his family full control of his estates, continuing his conquests without looking back. That blind trust had cost him everything, as the very kin he had trusted conspired against him and the Empire itself. Claudius clenched his fists, poorly concealing the fury that boiled within him. His crew, walking ahead with smiles at the possibilities their new futures held, remained unaware of the storm of emotions swirling inside him. Rasa noticed. He always did. As they approached the pod, ready to return to their ship, the Centurion leaned in, his voice low, ¡°She¡¯s right, you know. Your waters flow just like his did. When I served under Gaius, I saw the same sea in him. You¡¯ve got it, too.¡± With those words, Rasa slid a piece of aged parchment into Claudius¡¯ hand. The Judge barely had time to react before Rasa shoved him back into the cramped pod. Claudius wanted to protest, but the look in Rasa¡¯s eyes stopped him. They weren¡¯t the eyes of a man sending off a subordinate. They were the eyes of a father silently begging his son to run. Such eyes begged him to survive. Rasa¡¯s lips moved, but no sound escaped. Still, Claudius could read them clearly: ¡°Go. His enemies will be after you now. Grow strong.¡± Before Claudius could respond, the pod¡¯s engines sputtered to life. The fires roared as Rosa directed them back toward their starship, which waited in the empty void of space. Inside the cramped pod, Claudius gripped the parchment tightly, not daring to open it yet. Instead, he reached into the Lightsea, letting the energy wash over him as he read the paper without his eyes. Instantly, the world shifted. Colors twisted and whirled as his senses were transported elsewhere, as always when he tapped into his Stigmata. He found himself standing in a barren wasteland, devoid of life¡ªexcept for the solitary figure that loomed before him. Gaius Vermillion. His grandfather. The text on the parchment had long been inscribed. Still, Claudius could hear the words spoken by the legendary warrior as if he were there, reading them aloud, ¡°Domain Collapse: Drowned Dragon. May the seas dry, the rainforests burn, and the grasslands wilt. Beneath my claws, all dragons shall drown to birth new worlds. Foolish old men move mountains, so that their grandchildren may see the sunrise.¡± The words echoed in Claudius¡¯ mind, each with a growing transcendence, as he watched water rise from the dry, cracked earth surrounding his grandfather. Gaius Vermillion, the Drowned Dragon, was a legend among Hydros, and his power was on full display. The water coiled around Gaius, swirling into a massive, serpentine form¡ªa dragon, born of liquid, with teeth, wings, and claws. It continued to grow, the water lifting from the very planet itself as it joined the flowing tides of the Lightsea. The Drowned Dragon reached an unimaginable size in mere moments, towering like a skyscraper. Its jaws twisted toward the sky, where a meteor¡ªno, not a meteor, but something far worse¡ªdescended rapidly. A voice echoed in Claudius¡¯ ears while the dragon roared, a pillar of water ejected from its mouth, ¡°This is for you, Claudius. You are the only one who is not washed with sin. Brimming with potential. A pure heart, pale enough to peer into the future and the past. I love you.¡± Claudius strained to hold on to the vision as the Stigmata¡¯s power drained his strength. As the dragon unleashed a devastating roar, its water breath crashing toward the ice-encased Dirge, Claudius felt himself yanked back to reality. He blinked, breathless, seated once more in the cramped pod. No time had passed, yet his body heaved with exhaustion. Odd glances from his companions were ignored as Claudius focused on the parchment in his hand. His grandfather¡¯s voice echoed in his mind, as clear as if Gaius had been beside him. The technique. The power. With it, Claudius knew¡ªif he could master it¡ªhe¡¯d be unstoppable in the Inferose. Domain Collapses couldn¡¯t be copied. They were unique to the individual. Even so, Claudius knew it was different with family. First, he needed to learn it. And he had little time, as the Nova was already on the move, and the Heron¡¯s Wing had to follow. Soon, Dante¡¯s crew would join him as well. Claudius was more determined than ever before to claim this Dimensional Core. With his last name rekindled, he could take the exam for Centurion. He could stake out land. He could¡­ do so many things that he had always wished to do. For Gaius. For Praetor Sun. For his... family. He¡¯d do it or die trying. 40 - The Hunter’s Snare ¡°Did you see that kid with Judge Vermillion?¡± ¡°No. Did he find a recruit or something? Surprised Praetor Sun didn¡¯t nab him a good Jury.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. The kid gives me chills. Something ain¡¯t right with him. Feels like old metal.¡± ¡°How? He looks like he¡¯s sixteen.¡± ¡°Dunno. But he¡¯s way older than he looks. Be careful when they dock next. He¡¯s not one to anger.¡± ¡°Dante.¡± The word entered Dante¡¯s mind, but his fixation was so inward, so deeply entrenched in his thoughts, that he scarcely noticed at first. He dismissed it as one of the many distractions he had learned to ignore. But the voice persisted, sharp and urgent. ¡°Dante!¡± A slap to the human¡¯s face brought him straight from his idle meditation as Astraeus kneeled inches from his face, ¡°Get up! We have a problem!¡± In a blink, the fog of Dante¡¯s meditation cleared. His days aboard the blood-ship had melded into a strict routine: training, eating, sleeping, and repeating. It hadn¡¯t been easy to fall into the rhythm with the omnipresent terror surrounding him. As such, he snapped to attention, his instincts roaring to life from the sudden stimulus. ¡°What is it?¡± Dante questioned, his gaze flicking across the horizon until it settled on what Astraeus must have seen. In the distance, looming ominously, was an immense fog. This heavy, swirling gray blanket covered their path like an unnatural storm. Dante might have chalked it up to an anomaly in the weather if they had been on any other planet. But this was the Lightsea. Nothing here was as it seemed. Worse yet, this was the first weather-like phenomenon he¡¯d seen since the journey began. The skies had always been calm, safe for starships breaking the void. The human¡¯s gaze shifted to Thanaris, who sat at the ship¡¯s helm, eyes closed and hands clasped in a serene gesture. Yet Dante knew better. He followed her gaze, then turned back to the fog. ¡°Thanaris?¡± Dante¡¯s voice broke the silence. ¡°Do you have any idea what that fog is?¡± In horror, the man watched as the Caesar¡¯s brows furrowed in confusion. Then her eyes shot open, immediately setting upon the fog. She stood a mere second later, twisting her right hand with motes of blood. Another step delivered her to the ship¡¯s railing. ¡°Another Caesar. With such cold fog, it can only be Geist. He¡¯s the only Caesar coming, and I am unsure if I could kill him. Too slippery, like all Aridos,¡± Thanaris spoke, a challenge living in her honest words. Dante nodded, piecing the situation together. Other Caesars, like Geist, were en route to the Lost Reaches, all converging on the Inferose. It was a race, but one that could quickly turn into something more precarious, for the Caesars were not the only ones on their way. Astraeus stepped up to his master, careful not to lean over the crimson railing. He glanced at her distant gaze, concern on his lips but hidden in his swirling dots, ¡°Master? Should we greet him? Or do we ignore him?¡± The woman took the question in stride, shifting lightly to face the human behind her. With a smile, she reinvented the question, ¡°Dante? What do you suppose? You¡¯re our Talker.¡± Dante bit the inside of his lip, expecting such a thing to fall to him, only not this early. It was apparent to him that Thanaris wished to use his unpredictability and wit to gain an edge. Though he wasn¡¯t against it. He just had to figure out the best course of action. All Caesars heading this way must be traveling like us. Light, packed only with elites. I¡¯ve heard that fights in the Lightsea are risky for all but the absolute strongest. Too many unknowns. That means... neither will initiate an open confrontation unless severely provoked. And even then... they won¡¯t go too far. I can work with this. We need more information. And... I have plenty to mislead with. ¡°We need more information,¡± Dante said, his tone decisive. ¡°We should board their ship, see what we¡¯re dealing with. If we can, let¡¯s stage a fake fight¡ªlose purposefully to give them the impression we¡¯re weaker than we are.¡± He glanced at Thanaris, waiting for her response. The Caesar¡¯s smile deepened, but Astraeus wasn¡¯t convinced. He threw up a hand in protest. ¡°Throw a fight? You know that could get us killed, right? One good hit to the head is lights out for either of us.¡± Dante shook his head in reply. He did not believe such to be fact and pleaded his case, ¡°Not quite. They can¡¯t go all out here. But if we make them think we¡¯re weak, especially that you can¡¯t do a proper Domain...¡± Astraeus¡¯ eyes opened in understanding, slapping Dante on the back with pride and cutting him off, ¡°See! This is what I mean! You¡¯re a genius! They won¡¯t be expecting me to rip away their connection to the Lightsea! No matter who we¡¯re against, we could take them down!¡± Both turned to Thanaris, whose expression was unreadable, just as Saerer and Hatle had no input, quiet as usual. After a moment, she gave a slow nod of approval, ¡°Very well. But if you get yourselves killed, I won¡¯t save you.¡± The human didn¡¯t react to her warning, already knowing such to be the issue. Instead, he brought his hand to his chin, pondering how to fake weakness in front of the Dirge. The thing was, however, it wasn¡¯t a big issue for him to do so. He was, traditionally, weak. His control over his Tide was mediocre, while his Stigmata only lengthened his endurance in a battle. He had come up with ways to use it more offensively, but that wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d reveal here at all. He wouldn¡¯t even showcase his Flick, the swift burst of piercing water that emerged from his fingers. So, then, what could he use? He would have to make do with merely his control over Hydro, good old arrogance, and utilizing his hardiness to its best ability. As for the other two... Dante didn¡¯t concern himself with Hatle or Saerer, for even after the many days that they had spent together on the boat, he didn¡¯t care much for either. With the situation coming up, he wanted to stick in as small of a group as possible. Astraeus, however... ¡°Ast, use only your Frigo and the strength of Surewinter. Try to show some of the stuff I¡¯ve taught you about fighting, but keep your cards close. Go all out with your Stigma, as I¡¯m sure it¡¯s already known¡ª¡± Dante spoke to his ally while the fogs drew nearer. ¡°Shh! Aridos can hear everything in their mists. No more talking,¡± Astraeus clapped a hand over his mouth before they entered the fog, forcing the human to stop. Without complaint, Dante crouched low to heed the warning, keeping quiet as the thick fog enveloped their ship. The mint-green glow of the sea below faded into nothingness, leaving them surrounded by an eerie white. Every which way further than two arm¡¯s length was simply a pale haze. Thanaris stood tall at the helm, her gaze unbroken as they drifted through the chilling mist. Her calm control reassured the crew, even as the air grew thicker, making breathing harder. Dante¡¯s mind raced, not with fear, but with shrewd observation. The fog parted slightly moments later as their ship drew parallel to another. It was hardly large enough to be called a seafaring vessel, just as their ride was the same. Its form was made of never-ending sublimating mist, packed until it became solid and shimmering as it re-formed with each passing second.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Dante marveled at the sight that reminded him of Sonna¡¯s Tide but remained focused. This was the enemy. Thanaris stepped onto the open sea, casting her bloodied Tide into the air. A long plank of hardened crimson met a matching bridge of sublimating ice, connecting the two ships. The sounds of the Lightsea drifted for a moment before Thanaris¡¯ boot landed upon the front of the pathway. A voice sounded from the other side, chilling Dante¡¯s bones to the core as he felt an invisible hand caress his flesh, ¡°Well, hello, Thanaris. It is a... pleasure to see you out here at such an hour.¡± Dante¡¯s eyes narrowed in alarm as he caught sight of the figures standing across the gap as the proximity lifted the veil. Eight figures, each clearly Dirge based on their countenances, stood on the opposite ship. One stood out above the rest¡ªhis ghostly appearance so translucent that Dante could see through to his very insides. Caesar Geist. The air itself seemed to tremble around him as if recoiling from his mere presence. Next to Geist stood another figure, nearly equally terrifying in her own right. A woman with skin of roiling waters and piercing, predatory eyes that locked onto Dante the moment the boat floated into view. Her gaze was not one of casual curiosity but one that assessed, measured, and hunted. It reminded the human of the first Seafarer he had ever met, an old, retired Centurion, yet Dante didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Fuck,¡± Astraeus whispered from beside him, his voice low with dread. ¡°That¡¯s Hana. I can¡¯t believe Geist recruited the Gunwale. She¡¯s... known to be one of the strongest Anathema.¡± Dante didn¡¯t need Astraeus to elaborate further. The weight of her presence alone was enough. The other six Anathema on the ship were undoubtedly elites like Dante¡¯s partner, but Hana was something else entirely. Dante didn¡¯t look away. Instead, he met her gaze head-on, his eyes flashing with a challenge. She wanted to measure him, size him up? Did she think he was fascinating? Strong? He would return the favor, for this was a perfect chance. Thanaris and Geist exchanged words, the tension between them palpable across the misty gap. Dante¡¯s helmsman strode up the plank to the other side with a confident tone, ¡°Likewise. Would you like to discuss the coming contest? I have heard that Praetor Sun herself is on her way.¡± Geist¡¯s voice was filled with mockery as he dismissed Thanaris¡¯ words and her crew with poorly disguised contempt, ¡°Bah. That woman isn¡¯t all that impressive. She¡¯s lucky we haven¡¯t run into each other yet. I won¡¯t give her time to reach her ¡®nirvana¡¯ or whatever it¡¯s called.¡± His pride was clear in every syllable. It was the confidence of one who believed himself untouchable. Dante loved to hear such things the most, for it gave him a breadth of prospects to work with. The thing was, however, his opponent wasn¡¯t Geist. It was Hana. His mind worked fast, Dante¡¯s eyes never leaving Hana, even while he boarded the plank, carefully pursuing Thanaris. He understood what this was. Geist¡¯s pride would be his undoing, but Hana... she was different. He could sense it. And that¡¯s what he needed to exploit. Once upon the ship¡¯s deck, with the many Dirge surrounding him, Dante stared directly at the woman, noting how she must be a Hydro based on her skin¡¯s fluidity. Thanaris and Geist drifted to the back of the ship, leaving the four from Dante¡¯s ship to face Geist¡¯s seven. Despite the number disparity, the human voice cut the air, cold and direct, ¡°Hana.¡± The Anathema¡¯s eyes narrowed at the sound of her name, her focus sharpening on Dante. He could feel Astraeus stiffen beside him, but Dante remained calm. Inwardly, his heart beat with terror at a hundred notes per minute, but outwardly, he kept it under control. No matter how Dante wished he had Nullify, he forced himself to manage without it. Dante broke the stillness by stepping forward and pointing straight ahead to the woman who reacted to the name, ¡°So you¡¯re her. I thought you¡¯d be stronger. Not much, I see.¡± A slow, menacing smile curled on Hana¡¯s lips, her eyes narrowing further. ¡°You must have a death wish, young ¡®Thema,¡± she hissed, her voice as frigid as a pole¡¯s freezing river while she misunderstood the human¡¯s origins. Dante shrugged, his expression mechanical before he let his face spread into a prideful grin, ¡°Maybe. Or maybe I¡¯m just pointing out what everyone here already knows. You¡¯re over-hyped and weaker than the ones behind me, let alone my great self.¡± The challenge hung in the air, crackling with tension over the dangerous water. The crew around Dante and the Anathema opposite them were silent, watching, waiting. Even Thanaris paused in her conversation, her gaze flickering with feigned confidence toward Dante¡¯s bold maneuver. Geist¡¯s face twisted in a snarl, but Hana raised a hand to silence his worry, her eyes never leaving Dante, ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± she said, her tone dark but laced with amusement. ¡°But you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re playing with.¡± Dante stepped close and leaned in slightly, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it carried itself over the short distance to her fluid ears, ¡°I know exactly what I¡¯m doing. Teaching a dog her place. Won¡¯t even need my Stigmata for this.¡± For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence between them, a heavy pause that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then Hana¡¯s smile faded, and the amusement in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more dangerous. ¡°Be careful, kid,¡± she murmured, her voice like the bite of a tide¡¯s pull, ¡°You may not like the game once it truly begins.¡± Dante didn¡¯t flinch, his smile only growing wider. He received precisely the reaction he wanted. He knew this was a game, and now Hana was compelled to play it. Her words were intended to intimidate him, but all they did was affirm that he had her attention. Without waiting for another warning, Hana¡¯s arm flicked, and water formed in the air, materializing into a flowing spear of water. It launched toward Dante¡¯s arm faster than a bullet. He didn¡¯t dodge it or even attempt to¡ªhe couldn¡¯t¡ªnot without revealing too much. Instead, he let the spear graze him, cutting deep into his shoulder, sanguine splattering onto the icy deck. ¡°Is that it?¡± Dante mocked, peering ahead without clutching the wound. He felt confident that his Stigmata could save him as long as things didn¡¯t go too far. So, he taunted her further, ¡°I¡¯ve fought tougher ¡®Thema. No Domain Collapse? Pitiful. I hardly felt that. Why did Geist recruit you?¡± A low growl escaped Hana¡¯s throat as her hand twitched again. Her wrist harbored a watery revolver this time, the cylinder spinning lethally. Dante sidestepped with purposeful stiffness as he anticipated the future and took another wound to his chest while he also dispatched a spear of water. Unfortunately, Hana deflected it without issue, dousing against the sublimating ice below. To anyone else, they would have been sweating for their life with the internal damage dealt. Still, Dante trusted in his Stigmata and his own body¡¯s durability. He wobbled on his feet, but he refused to fall or retreat despite the flooding lifeblood. ¡°Hmm... Let¡¯s just kill you then. I¡¯m sure Caesar Thanaris won¡¯t mind with how arrogant you are,¡± Hana said, her voice dripping with malice as she lifted the Tide-forged gun toward her target again. Thanaris and Geist glanced over for only a moment, neither saying a word. Astraeus, standing behind Dante, caught on in a single moment. He took a step forward, lifting his hands as if in preparation to use his Stigmata, but Dante subtly signaled with his hand¡ªnot yet. ¡°Stay back, Astraeus,¡± Dante said aloud, his voice calm but carrying an underlying tone that said he had a plan. ¡°Let me deal with her.¡± Astraeus hesitated, his eyes flashing with concern, but he nodded. He knew the game Dante was playing, yet their time together had inspired trust. The trust was that Dante was clever enough not to walk to his own death. Hana¡¯s smile returned, this time more feral. The Anathema beside her backstepped with fear while Geist laughed from afar. Dante¡¯s opponent was done playing, ¡°How brave. I wish you weren¡¯t so stupid.¡± She stepped forward, her movements fluid and graceful, the ice beneath her feet billowing with every step. Another pistol formed, this one hovering beside her. Dante¡¯s eyes widened as he realized that her title was indeed honest, for more and more watery firearms formed around her, creating a ring of death behind her back. When twenty watery pistols appeared in a deadly ring behind her, Dante¡¯s mind whirred with calculations. Each weapon was a manifestation of her Tide, with more stopping power than a traditional gun, and she could control them effortlessly. However, it appeared to take time to create many. For now, he had to maintain the facade of weakness while ensuring he didn¡¯t get himself killed in the process. The triggers pulled themselves. Dante reacted just in time, calling for water to shield him, but the force was too much. The shield caught some bullets, yet several pierced through. Two slammed into his stomach, one punctured his lung, and another shattered his knee, sending him crashing to the deck. The pain was excruciating. Blood splattered across the icy surface, and for a moment, Dante¡¯s vision blurred. But even in the chaos of his mind, he forced himself to stay grounded. This was the plan. This had to look real. He gasped for air, blood bubbling up from his mouth as he pushed himself onto his elbows. More water surged from his body, catching a few more bullets, but he was barely hanging on. Astraeus, seeing his companion down, took the cue. He launched himself toward Hana, his movements sluggish, as though the mist itself was sapping his strength. His arm whipped out nonetheless as space bisected the imminent death of Dante. Then, snow burst from him, chilling his surroundings and weakening Hana¡¯s control over her Tide. Unfortunately, it did little to nothing, as more pistols appeared before they melded, forming larger calibers of watery armaments. Hana laughed as she caught Astraeus mid-attack, stopping his Stigmata before it could bloom. Her fingers curled around his arm, and with terrifying strength, she threw him to the deck next to Dante, driving her fist into his gut with brutal precision. ¡°Pathetic,¡± she spat, the disdain swimming in her voice. ¡°This will be easy,¡± Hana sneered, turning back to Geist. ¡°If this is what the Lost Reaches offer, we¡¯ll have no trouble taking control.¡± Her Anacrux grinned with glee, seeing her domination over his rival¡¯s subordinates. Geist had chosen right in picking Hana. Astraeus groaned in genuine agony, clutching his side where Hana¡¯s fist hit him. He made no attempt to use his full strength, just enough to make it look like a desperate struggle. Saerer and Hatle were frozen in shock while Thanaris continued to speak with Geist. They had heard the plan, but it did little to comfort them as Hana placed her boot against Astraeus¡¯ back, shoving him into the deck. With Astraeus subdued, Hana turned her gaze back to Dante, her eyes flashing with cruel amusement. ¡°You thought you could challenge me? You¡¯re not even worth my time.¡± Then, she lifted a newly forged rifle of water with one hand, a conglomeration of several pistols, the barrel hollow in Dante¡¯s gaze. The human¡¯s heartbeat quickened, but he forced his breathing to steady. Dante had calculated this risk. He knew exactly how far to push it. This is where it would have to end for now. The moment before the watery bullet could end his life, a blood-red streak slashed through the air. Thanaris stepped between them without room for hesitation, ¡°Enough,¡± waving a bloodied hand as the crimson liquid flicked out with intelligence. Her Tide slashed the rifle in half before popping each evolving watery firearm. Once Dante¡¯s life was no longer in danger, Thanaris¡¯ attention dipped to her equal. ¡°Haul back your dogs, Geist,¡± she commanded, her voice cold and unrelenting. ¡°The battle hasn¡¯t started yet.¡± Geist smirked from across the misty gap, his translucent form flickering. He shook his head in disappointment and threw up his hands, saying, ¡°Oh, I was just letting Hana have a bit of fun. Surely, you can¡¯t blame her for taking a challenge when it¡¯s presented so... boldly.¡± Thanaris¡¯s gaze hardened, ¡°Call her off, or I¡¯ll end this before it begins. Neither of us will like what comes next.¡± Geist¡¯s face sank, and he raised his hand, motioning for Hana to stop. She scowled, clearly unsatisfied with the unfinished fight, but she obeyed, stepping back with a glare that promised future retribution. Dante struggled to his feet with Astraeus¡¯ help, their bodies battered and bruised. Thanaris didn¡¯t spare a glance at either as she began walking back toward their ship. ¡°So hospitable,¡± she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Can¡¯t even take a taunt. I wonder how that will fare in the coming days.¡± The plank of blood retracted with Dante and Astraeus atop it, delivering them back to their ship, leaving the gap between the two ships wide again. Several seconds passed as the ships veered away from each other, yet Dante held himself up with Astraeus¡¯ help. Dante could feel the ticking death approaching from the loss of blood, yet he held off from doing anything until he had exited the fog. The moment they were out of Geist¡¯s touch, Dante collapsed to the deck, his breath ragged, his wounds severe. ¡°That... went well,¡± he muttered, gritting his teeth through the pain. Astraeus let out a pained laugh, wincing as he clutched his side, ¡°You call that well?¡± Dante inhaled sharply through his teeth, his body glowing faintly as he activated his Stigmata, and time reversed a bit over twenty-four hours, stripping away all his progress with his technique from then on. More importantly, however, the several bullet holes and wounds vanished, his body mending itself in a way that should have been impossible. ¡°She should¡¯ve crippled me,¡± Dante murmured, his voice low. ¡°She thought she did. That¡¯s all that matters.¡± Astraeus watched in awe as the last traces of Dante¡¯s wounds disappeared, leaving no scars behind. ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°But I have to admit, that would¡¯ve fooled me. You looked like a reckless new Anathema, in way over your head.¡± Dante stood, his body fully healed, and walked to the ship¡¯s bow. His eyes stared out into the mist, where the icy ship of Geist and Hana had vanished from view. A slow grin stretched out over his lips while Thanaris stepped beside him. He left her with a nod of thanks, something she chuckled softly at. ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea for her,¡± he whispered, the wheels in his mind turning. ¡°Those guns... it takes time for them to ramp up. Time we won¡¯t give her.¡± The waves continued to ripple before Dante realized the silhouette beneath had returned. Two Caesars had scared them away, but one was evidently not enough. After stepping away from the edge, Dante prepared himself for the prompt arrival at the Lost Reaches. 41 - A Murder Of Monsters The last of the single Designations yet often the most vital. The Seers. Not a single Seer stands within Congress or upon the Shattered Peak. Why is that? I do not know. No one does. But Seer Visere is our greatest eye toward the future. The rarest gift is both a shackle and the most incredible boon. The sight of the future or the past can be a curse when wielded incorrectly. As such, everyone treats all Seers with the utmost care. They are the sirens of the end. Without them, we are blind. Let us give praise to: Seer Visere. Seer Yato. Seer Marae. And Seer Total. Without them and their sacrifices, Congress may have withered with the Drowned Dragon. Hours later, Dante stood beside Thanaris as she raised her right hand toward the void above. A smile crept across her face as she twisted her wrist, blood seeping from her flesh. Her voice echoed across the mint sea, bouncing off the still air and reverberating to Dante, ¡°Here we are, just outside the entrance. I can already sense the other Caesars and the general location of the Inferose. Let¡¯s open it up.¡± ¡°Tide Reversal: Haunting Dreamscape.¡° A scarlet aura burst from Thanaris, shattering the air as the Lightsea expanded from within, ripping open a rift between dimensions. As awestruck as the first time he had seen such power, Dante gaped as the surface of a forested planet appeared beyond the scarred rift. Thanaris turned, extending her hand toward Dante so that he could join her, ¡°It¡¯s time. When we step through, be quiet. The entrance¡¯s locale won¡¯t be exact, so I recommend you split from me. I... will likely be forced into a battle the second we exit.¡± Dante¡¯s gaze fell to the porcelain-skinned palm awaiting him. Then, a deep inhalation mimicking his old cigarette habit calmed his nerves before he stepped forward and claimed the offer. Thanaris grinned deviously in return and yanked the human through. Footsteps echoed behind Dante as his companions followed, but the world he entered wasn¡¯t what he expected. The moment his foot passed through the rift, reality twisted, warping like a disturbed reflection on water. Such a sensation wasn¡¯t painful but unsettling, as if every cell was stretched across the stars and snapped back into place. Such a feeling differed vastly from entering the Lightsea, so much so that he wondered why. But he had little time to think as when he emerged on the other side, feet hitting solid ground, his breath caught in his throat. The oppressive heat hit him first¡ªheavy and suffocating. It clung to his skin like a fiery cloak, filling his lungs with scorching air. Steam rose from the surrounding trees, and the damp heat singed his flesh with every breath. The kiss of the air on the ground, the hiss of heat, told him the air was at least slightly toxic, too. On instinct, he cycled Surewinter, but it offered only slight relief. It was meant for cold, not searing heat. But the heat wasn¡¯t the only thing wrong with this place. Around him, towering trees rose loftily into the sky, their thick trunks shrouded in mist and steam, blocking out the incessant rain that drummed down from the heavens with seamless canopies. The very same rain evaporated once more before it could hit the ground. This was because the foliage was so dense that only slim fragments of the sky were visible through the gaps. And even then, it was an alien color¡ªpurple streaks bleeding into orange like a permanent dusk. And then there were the figures ahead, too. Even before Dante¡¯s eyes adjusted to the dim undergrowth, he sensed them¡ªthe immense, dangerous auras of the other Caesars. Thanaris¡¯ warning echoed in his mind, and his pulse quickened. He recognized one figure immediately: Geist, a ghostly form of mist. The other three, however, were unfamiliar but no less terrifying. He hadn¡¯t seen them prior, but Thanaris¡¯ warnings were enough to pick each out. Suaze stood stocky and short, his skin rippling with heat and steam. The low grass beneath him smoldered as he moved, igniting his Thermo. His narrowed eyes betrayed a smoldering fury, ready to erupt. Across from him was the living sculpture of Wain, her body radiating frost and jagged ice. The ground cracked and froze wherever she stepped, steam rising from the heat, meeting her icy presence. Her attention immediately shifted to Thanaris, recognizing her power. But it was the last figure that made Dante¡¯s stomach churn. Perched on a branch above, a humanoid figure oozed acidic sweat that hissed upon contact with the ground. This was Balba, the predator. His dark, hungry eyes assessed Dante, and a pang of unease tightened in Dante¡¯s chest. Dante squinted at this one momentarily before realizing this was a Miro, the one Tide he had not yet seen in action. Despite his interest in this one, Balba was a predator. How the crouched Caesar¡¯s dark eyes assessed Dante did more than make him uncomfortable. The atmosphere inside the glade was thick with pressure, the kind that promised violence at any second. In response, Dante¡¯s hand instinctively twitched toward the hilt of his revolver, but Thanaris¡¯s voice cut through the stifling atmosphere. ¡°Have the Romans arrived yet?¡± she asked, her tone cautious yet inquiring. Blood trailed down her hands, dousing her legs in crimson sabatons to protect against the spreading mist from Geist and Wain¡¯s ice. Here, no weakness could be shown. Balba¡¯s eyes twitched, and he growled a flat reply, ¡°Yes. They¡¯re in orbit. I found the planet first, so I get the head start.¡± The reminder of their true mission snapped Dante back to focus. The Inferose. They were here to claim it after finding its true entrance. But where were the other Anacruxes¡¯ subordinates? Fuck. Dante¡¯s body tensed with that singular curse, his instincts screaming at him to run. He glanced toward the trees, ready to bolt if needed.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Geist spoke next, waving his hand toward Balba with derision, ¡°You were only here a few minutes before us. Careful with your claims, Balba. You wouldn¡¯t want us to turn on you, would you?¡± Balba¡¯s mouth opened into a cascading multi-row territory of fangs, but he still cowered beneath Geist¡¯s threat. That left Thanaris to speak next; as she stepped forward, a tiny strand of blood tapped against Dante¡¯s foot. That¡¯s a signal if I¡¯ve ever seen one. Dante instantly pivoted his feet on a dime, kicking out toward the trees behind him with bursting water at his steps. At the same time, his Caesar strode forward with blood on her hands and brutality atop her tongue, ¡°No, I must agree with Balba. He was the first one here. Balba, how about we move together? If they disagree...¡± Thanaris¡¯s earlier grin had vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating glare. Geist laughed in her face, his haze devouring the air¡¯s moisture as blood blades lashed out toward him. Dante ran, his heart racing. The battle exploded behind him, shaking the air with every clash of Tide. Weeks of training with Astraeus gave him the speed he needed, but even that wasn¡¯t enough to escape the chaos that followed. No matter how fast he was, the battle followed him, shaking the very air with every clash of Tide. The splinters of Hydro emerging from his heels, the slight cushioning of his landing, and even the general enhancement of his body from Surewinter simply weren¡¯t adequate against such monsters. The searing heat of Suaze¡¯s attacks and the drying haze from Geist warred alongside each other against Thanaris. Both steam and haze met together against the wave of blood that flooded toward them. Suaze¡¯s mind was elsewhere, absorbed in his Thermo, but the sudden roar of Balba¡¯s legs moving faster than sound made him react in a panic. The acidic creature¡¯s body blurred through the trees, moving faster than Dante¡¯s eyes could track, with its Miro augmenting its flesh. With Balba¡¯s momentum, an open jaw soared for Suaze¡¯s neck, but the Thermo barely evaded the lethal bite. Landing beside Thanaris, blood pooling around his feet, the timely ally spat out Suaze¡¯s right arm, annoyed by his find, ¡°Plah. So close. Let¡¯s try this again, Miss Thana.¡± Thanaris sneered, but the enraged roar from Suaze forced her to redouble her efforts. Balba blurred once more, vanishing with an explosive mound of dirt beneath him. Suaze was relentless with his fury, attacking Balba with waves of intense heat. Fire rippled from his form, scorching the foliage and igniting anything in his path. One half of the forest started burning, while the other surrendered its vitality. The scene followed behind Dante as it only ramped up in danger. None had used their strongest techniques or Domains yet. This was only an opening or a test. Though Thanaris mentioned that none should collapse any Domains, after all, the pressure encompassing the entrance could shatter or damage it. Still, they had far more than Domain Collapses in their repertoires. All the Caesars, despite their greed for the dimension and loathing for each other, were aware of the looming threat above. Praetor Sun. Yet even if the five weren¡¯t going all out, Dante still struggled for his life. His presence was like standing beside a blazing furnace and a freezer of absolute zero. Dante felt the temperature deviate even from a distance. A devouring paleness was on his tail while fire eclipsed the circling trees. But Wain¡ªever the opportunist¡ªwas already gone, slipping away from the fight with a chilling grin, vanishing into the chaos while the others clashed. Dante had no time to worry about her. He ran with everything he had, his feet kicking up the dirt and fallen leaves, trying to stay ahead of the chaos. The man barely had time to think and find his next step, but he did so without falling, for now. Dante was weaker and slower, and without Thanaris¡¯s protection, he was little more than prey. All he could do was run and hide until he entered the dimension where the Caesars could not delve. Well, they could, but they risked destroying it with their mere presence before anyone claimed it. That¡¯s why Geist brought Hana. She¡¯s the strongest Dirge he could recruit, and she more than likely wouldn¡¯t damage the MD. How Geist planned on taking it from Hana was beyond the human, however. Thanaris would wait until Dante or Astraeus had stolen it to enter and gain its power. Dante would do so willingly, of course, not wanting to fight either. All that was a distant future, however. A defining burst of an unknown force screamed through the air behind him as it sliced through a gargantuan tree trunk¡ªa bolt of super-heated vapor. Dante didn¡¯t hear it until it was nearly upon him, the sound rushing in after the steam. His instincts flared, and he dived toward a nearby tree, his hand slamming into its rough trunk. The bark burned his palm as he barely avoided the blast, dragging him around its wood. An explosion shook Dante¡¯s brain inside his skull as dirt rained atop him. More burns racked up across his flesh while he inhaled agonizing air. For a second, Dante crouched still, panting despite the discomfort. Yet more footsteps were coming, and he raised his head to see Astraeus dashing toward him, his shifting form weaving between trees with ease, his dotted eyes focused, unreadable. There was no time for words between them¡ªjust survival. Hatle and Saerer weren¡¯t far behind, their own desperate escape joining him as the battle unfolded in horrifying flashes behind them. They didn¡¯t make it much further before Hatle, the larger Anathema, stumbled. His bulky form was no match for the creeping death that spread above the ground¡¯s expanding void, Geist¡¯s mist slowly devouring the enveloping forest. While Suaze burnt the sky, Geist¡¯s devouring Arido consumed the life beneath it. Dante couldn¡¯t even shout. The chilling fog reached Hatle. It moved so quickly, so silently, like the stiff hand of death, and as it touched the quiet Anathema¡¯s massive form, his body began to crack and dehydrate. Dante had seen Hatle¡¯s physical strength before. The sheer magnitude of it had left him in awe, ten times his own, even with Surewinter, but none of that mattered. The Dirge¡¯s leathery flesh became powder while his essence was sucked away. With just a few staggered steps, the towering figure transformed into a hollow, fragile husk. Hatle¡¯s final, silent scream echoed in his mind, but it could not stop his momentum. There was no saving him. There was no turning back. Dante had spent many days with the Dirge, though he knew little about the man. Unlike Astraeus, Hatle refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. Nonetheless, the pang of death lashed through the human¡¯s heart. Like an uncaring deity, the mist moved on, and Dante threw himself forward, sprinting harder than ever. The jungle overhead seemed endless, the heat unbearable, with his lungs charring with each ragged breath. His Stigmata would heal it later, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t feel the misery. His legs ached, his muscles protesting every movement, but he couldn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t afford to. They ran harder. Every breath was a struggle, every step a race against death. The jungle seemed endless, the heat unbearable, the explosions of Tide chasing them like a living nightmare. Finally, Dante saw something ahead¡ªan oddly shaped tree, its branches twisted like a gallow. Dante raised his eyebrow, but he was desperate. With a dive, he kicked off the ground and collapsed against the trunk, feeling the immediate sting of the heat searing into his skin. The burn would be worth it, for as he sat, he heard the battle continue off in another direction, gradually growing distant. The human¡¯s head hung low, and he gasped for air with desperation. His entire body screamed for a break, but his mind remained in survival mode. Dante¡¯s eyes deviated upward, scanning the impenetrable canopy of trees, listening for any sign of pursuit. And that is when he saw what lay above him. Dante¡¯s eyes stared upward, lost in shock, while Astraeus caught up to him and dropped to his knees. The loyal coldness in Astraeus¡¯ eyes had been replaced by another¡ªdetermination with a hint of fear. ¡°What are you looking at¡­¡± Astraeus began, but his voice trailed off as his gaze followed Dante¡¯s upward. Above, hung by the tree¡¯s gallow, was an Anathema, not one either recognized, but it still was enough of a shock to leave both speechless. Another one of the explorers was already dead. How? Neither knew the answer, and they could only glance at each other as Saerer came into view. She stumbled around the tree, too, collapsing into a heap while spreading out her arms, exhausted. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their labored breathing, the distant crackling of fires, and the echo of battle that raged far behind them. Dante and Astraeus held their tongues, concerned that whatever killed the ¡®Thema above was still around. However, Dante¡¯s paranoia kicked in just in the nick of time as his eyes drifted to the tree itself. Wait... I don¡¯t sense the Lightsea around here. No sign of Tides either... The Inferose... plant... fire... Shit! As the human dove away from his cover, his right leg split open by a sudden lashing vine whip. Dante rolled with the momentum while trailing blood behind him, and Astraeus followed him. The Frigo dragged Saerer while shooting an avalanche of snow behind him, stopping the gallows tree¡¯s next attack. There were not just Dirge here. Plants and animals had gathered on this planet for the benefits the Inferose could provide. Dante tried to steady his breathing once he saw the vines couldn¡¯t reach him, his chest rising and falling as he fought the panic that threatened to overtake him. He had barely escaped Geist¡¯s haze, and Hatle¡¯s demise weighed on him. Even worse, he had nearly just died. As much as he wanted to rest, to collapse and let the exhaustion take over, he knew he had to keep moving. For... In the back of his mind, he could sense something. It was like a beacon. An echo of power, of strength, it called to him through the planet¡¯s atmosphere. However, it wasn¡¯t an exact sense and more like a general insight into this planet. His eyes turned toward the direction that Dante assumed to be northward. He wasn¡¯t sure why he was feeling the sensation or how. All he knew was that the others must feel it, too. The Inferose. Astraeus was the first to speak, his voice rough and strained as he lowered his snowy hand and twisted his face in the same direction, ¡°That... was not how I expected this to go. You feel it, too? It¡¯s... so weird. Though, all MDs are. Grand treasures, I suppose.¡± Dante let out a hollow laugh, though there was no humor in it, ¡°No kidding. Though we won¡¯t get the most of the treasures.¡± After what they had just survived, bits of indignation hid in his words, but Astraeus didn¡¯t point it out. Instead, Astraeus wiped the leaking water from his face and diverted his gaze to Dante, his tone shifting to something more serious, ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving. The Caesars will only grow more destructive once the Praetor lands, and they team up to kill her.¡± The human doubted the Dirge would align after what just occurred. They seemed no different from Dante¡¯s forefathers, constantly in turmoil with each other. Dante clenched his jaw, glancing up once more instinctively, though no danger was present. His pupils shot around, searching for Judas¡¯ suspiciously absent presence. The ghost in his mind had been relatively quiet since he met Thanaris. The implications were obvious, but his suspicions weren¡¯t high enough to reveal Judas to Thanaris. Who knew what the thing was? It could be stronger than the woman, and if that was the case... he¡¯d rather just ride the wave as it was. Alongside a sigh, Dante trekked onward, weighing how much longer he should wait before using Reset to heal his burns. Then, he heard another discharge of energy behind him, and without turning around, he bounded ahead toward that unnatural sensation awaiting him. With no more words, they ran under the weight of impending death at their heels as they all knew they were way out of their league. And then a voice echoed through the air. ¡°Domain Collapse: Ghosts Of The Damned.¡± 42 - Skywreck ¡°Thanaris and Geist have arrived. The Praetor is in orbit. It seems we will have some unwelcome guests. What shall I do, Wraith?¡± spoke a figure hidden amongst enormous humid trees. His eyes were locked upon a sprinting human, observing his harried guise from afar. The communicator in his hand produced a single sentence, ¡°Strike when I arrive.¡± ¡°Why the ¡®ell are we meeting with Claudius? Dante ¡®eeds us!¡± Rejo erupted as he slammed his fist into the desk beside the starship console. Archimedes jumped in his seat, reeling back in sudden shock, but he was the only one surprised by the outburst. Sonna wiped her face with an open palm, sitting on one of the old, rickety chairs some feet away. Then, she explained it all to Rejo once more, ¡°We¡¯ve been through this, Rejo. We don¡¯t know where the Inferose is. Arch has searched every public database, and a bunch of locked private ones, but it¡¯s a complete unknown. We made a deal with Claudius and need to honor that.¡± Rejo pouted, glaring at the metallic tiles beneath their feet while a starship came into view through the clear glass window. His head twisted up as if hearing the sound. Bandages still covered the back of his head, and there was one small series of stitches across his cheek, but he had mostly recovered. ¡°Fuck the deal,¡± rarer than a blue moon, a comprehensible sentence came from the Araki¡¯s lungs. Still, the rest of his crew could only focus on the incoming ship. It was the Heron¡¯s Wing. And the day was November 1st in the Standard Calendar. The agreed-upon meeting. Archimedes¡¯ hands went to the ship¡¯s controls, manually overriding the dysfunctional systems to dock the two starships side-by-side in the sea of emptiness they were in. Gladius C was below them, but it was only their meeting point, not true their destination. The rest of the crew stood and strode to the side exit, which was used for emergencies and docking. It was a simple, thin corridor built to attach to others of the same kind. Sonna glanced at Lucius, and the soldier merely nodded while the clacking of the process completed without error. Then, they saw the first Judge they had met through the fogged reinforced glass of the corridor. Claudius offered a plain smile before striding through the connector. On the other side, he stood across from the soldier and the failed spy. He spoke smoothly but held a hidden meaning, ¡°Thank you for coming. With our ships docked, we can head to our destination. This will... be more dangerous than I initially thought, but I have some good news.¡± Sonna¡¯s eyebrows rose while Lucius furrowed. Joan merely revolved her hand from behind them, prompting the man to elaborate. With a nod, Claudius gave the crew the best news they had heard in weeks, ¡°The Anacrux on Crislend is here. My Praetor sensed her unique Tide of blood. But we don¡¯t need to concern ourselves with that,¡± he handed a slim slip of paper to Sonna with his words. ¡°My mission is to infiltrate the Inferose and prevent any Dirge from claiming it. At worst, it must be destroyed. Now, the entrance is unknown, so your mission is to help me find it. Then, you are relieved.¡± The crew shared looks as the word ¡®Inferose¡¯ was already familiar to them. Yet no one said a word to their informer continued on. Lucius noted the text on the decree, finding it to be typical military jargon. His own paranoia spiked as he offered a question to the Judge, ¡°And that¡¯s it? You don¡¯t need our help inside?¡± Claudius shook his head before pointing to the sheet, ¡°No. The situation inside will be... unpredictable. I only wish to go in with those I trust wholeheartedly,¡± the man¡¯s eyes then flittered from each figure in his sight without shame. ¡°Apologies... but none of you fit the bill. Input those coordinates into navigation, and we¡¯ll fly right over. It should only take a few minutes to move through the system.¡± Sonna passed the paper back to Rejo and shoved him to deliver it to Arch. Afterward, she extended a curt bow to the Judge, ¡°Thank you for saving Joan. We will do our best.¡± In return, Claudius smiled kindly, the lip of his mouth rising slightly. He retreated to the Heron¡¯s Wing with a wave afterward, not wasting a moment. The instant his presence departed, the crew hurried back to the Skull. Neither Sonna, Joan, nor Lucius said a word until they were within the bounds of Archimedes and Rejo. Once there, however, they found Rejo had already gotten the young boy riled up, ¡°Dante is here!? Really? I... I... I¡¯ll set coordinates!¡± Lucius sighed at the sight, not wanting to damper Isaac¡¯s mood. Still, he had to set expectations. After placing a hand on the navigation to slow everyone down, he spoke, ¡°Relax. We don¡¯t want to rush this. Claudius even said this would be highly dangerous. Scout the planet first, Arch. Then we¡¯ll go. Just give it a minute.¡± The Weren beside him nodded, chewing on her fingernail bit by bit before joining in, ¡°Yeah. Dante¡¯s there somewhere, but if that Anacrux is there... we¡¯ll need to be really careful. The woman who nearly killed you, Rejo, should be nearby.¡± Not even the mention of his near-death experience could calm the Araki¡¯s excitement. But before anyone could complain about Rejo¡¯s enthusiasm, API slid an image onto the large screen for everyone to view. He pointed to it with one shivering index finger, unused to so much attention. All eyes fell on the screen. On the screen, an enormous ship, the size of a floating city, loomed above the exoplanet below. The Nova was the home of Praetor Sun, bearing an enormous sigil of her House across its enormous spine, that of a brilliant star. The Nova moved through space with eerie grace, casting a faint shadow on the world beneath and pulling the city along with the planet¡¯s gravity. Somehow teeming with life, the world glowed faintly despite having no visible sun or moon. Its surface was an ocean of green, illuminated from within, as though the planet itself was the source of its light.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Not a hint of water or earth could be seen in the image. The sight sent chills down the crew¡¯s spines. A planet so far removed from any source of light yet filled with lush greenery? It defied all natural laws they knew. Lucius stepped closer to the screen, eyes narrowing to a fine point, ¡°That¡¯s... unnatural.¡± Sonna bent her head beside him, her arms crossed, ¡°A planet without a sun, with that much life? I don¡¯t like it one bit.¡± API, sitting a little off to the side, was the first to break the growing tension with his carefully selected words, ¡°It¡¯s just... the one ship.¡± Sonna gave a tight nod, ¡°Then we move forward. Fly us alongside the Heron¡¯s Wing. Let¡¯s get closer.¡± Claudius¡¯ sleek and formidable vessel hovered nearby as both ships approached the mysterious world. The inner engines roared to life, propelling the steel capsule forward into the inky blackness of space. For nearly ten minutes, they drifted through the void, the gravitational pull of the planet gradually intensifying. As they neared the orbit of the exoplanet, the vast size of the green-lit surface became more apparent. Glued to the controls, Archimedes stared at the visual feed in wordless awe. ¡°This place is three jumps from any settled star system and four from our last refuel,¡± Sonna noted, her voice thoughtful. ¡°In the Lost Reaches, it¡¯s more than a No Man¡¯s Land. The Empires only extend their tendrils so far.¡± She felt a tremor of excitement and dread in equal measure. Gladius C, their meeting point, was now far behind them, a tiny dot in the vast distance. The sense of the unknown gnawed at her. But it wasn¡¯t just her that was uncomfortable. Lucius¡¯ eyes breathed in every inch of the planet, thinking of everything that could come for them. Meanwhile, Joan vibrated silently beside them, her dreams coming ever so slightly closer. Rejo, as expected, already had his weapons prepared and removed his bandages. The light tint of blood stained them, but the Araki convinced himself he was fine. As the ship settled into orbit, the rest prepared. They gathered weapons and tools and strapped on combat gear. Even Archimedes, who was usually more at home with a keyboard than a gun, took up a weapon with shaky hands. The others walked toward the drop pod in silence, the weight of what was to come hanging over them. Lucius lingered behind Archimedes, watching the young man as he fumbled with his gear. Kneeling beside him, Lucius rested a hand on Archimedes¡¯ shoulder, ¡°Listen. You¡¯re not coming with us.¡± The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius silenced him with a shake of his head, ¡°I know you want to help, and I know you don¡¯t want to steal anymore. I don¡¯t want you to either. But there¡¯s a job only you can do.¡± The soldier had thought long and hard about how he would keep the young man off the planet. And as much as it pained him, there was only one way to convince Isaac. He would find a way past any other explanation. Archimedes frowned, clearly torn, ¡°I... I don¡¯t want to steal anymore... I just want to help. And... Dante¡¯s down there.¡± Lucius let out a deep sigh, his voice calm but firm, ¡°This isn¡¯t about stealing, Arch. This is about survival. Our ship¡ªit¡¯s falling apart. No matter how much work you put in, it won¡¯t hold up for long. Now, Claudius¡¯ ship... that¡¯s our way out of here.¡± Archimedes shook his head again, eyes welling with frustration, ¡°But I can do more. I can fight.¡± Lucius squeezed his shoulder gently, ¡°I know you can, but this is bigger than just fighting. If you steal that ship while we¡¯re on the planet, we¡¯ll have a real chance,¡± his eyes met API¡¯s with confidence. ¡°You¡¯re the only one who can do it.¡± The boy bit his lip, looking down at the weapon in his hands, ¡°I... I don¡¯t want to disappoint you. Or him. He¡¯ll... leave me if I...¡± Isaac sniffled, wiping his nose as he struggled to get the words out. ¡°Like all the... others...¡± Lucius gave him a rare, reassuring smile. ¡°You won¡¯t. And don¡¯t worry, there won¡¯t be anyone on that ship. Claudius is a Judge¡ªhe¡¯ll get another one without even blinking.¡± Archimedes swallowed hard, the weight of the responsibility settling on his young shoulders. ¡°Okay... I¡¯ll do it. But I don¡¯t like it.¡± Lucius stood, satisfied by the boy¡¯s agreement, ¡°Good. Now, stay sharp. We¡¯ll be back soon enough.¡± The soldier turned, but his shoulders sagged before he took even a single step away. Then, he faced back toward Pythagoras with a conflicted face. Retrieving a sphere from his back, he bit his lip. Even with his concern for Arch¡¯s safety, he trusted the boy¡¯s judgment. So, bending down, he placed the Immortal Corpse within the tiny palm that was far too small for such a device. He gave Archimedes a hard stare before ordering him, ¡°Use this only if absolutely necessary. I¡¯m going to get your captain back. But you need to be ready the instant we have him.¡± Lucius then waved goodbye before joining the others at the drop pod. Archimedes lingered at the controls, his heart heavy, but his mind made up. While the drop pod¡¯s initiation began, the young man¡¯s eyes fell on the slim tracker on the desk, left behind by Joan. The sight of Dante¡¯s vitals reappearing gave the boy a smile, yet he couldn¡¯t tell anyone else the good news. The pod¡¯s engines howled as it detached from the ship, edging closer to the exoplanet¡¯s atmosphere. Through the single window, the four inside the cramped space could see the surface of the planet¡ªan ocean of green that pulsed softly, like a living heartbeat. It was beautiful but unnerving. While falling, they saw another similar ship fall beside them, hurtling toward the green as well. It was Claudius¡¯ crew. Several pairs of eyes warily watched the other ship, larger and more sophisticated in nature, descend alongside them before their attention swapped to their own. Sonna peeked at Lucius, her expression grim while her right hand held onto the handle above her. With her height, she had to stretch just to scrape it with her fingers. ¡°Keep your eyes sharp,¡± she muttered. ¡°We have no idea what¡¯s waiting for us down there.¡± Lucius nodded, gripping his rifle tighter. Rejo, sitting across from him, was practically vibrating with anticipation. Joan, stoic as ever, checked her own bag of poisons and medicines, almost as offputting as the bubbly Araki. Suddenly, the lights inside the pod flickered. A sharp, disorienting buzz filled the small cabin, and the entire pod plunged into darkness. The ship¡¯s systems shut down with a loud click, and for a moment, the only sound was the rapid beating of their hearts. Yet before anyone could react with more than an open mouth, a voice echoed ominously within the darkness, delivered straight into their ears through space. ¡°Domain Collapse: Ghosts of the Damned.¡° The words reverberated through their minds, cutting through the silence like a blade. Joan cursed under her breath, already sliding a syringe close to her flesh, and Sonna¡¯s knuckles whitened as she gripped the seat beside her as well as the handle. Lucius clicked the safety on his gun and drew the hatchet at his belt while Rejo¡¯s eyes bloomed. Then, chaos. The controlled fall turned into a freefall as the pod¡¯s stabilizers failed. The crew was thrown against their harnesses, the sudden jolt sending them into weightlessness. Rejo yelled out, cursing in his native Araki dialect that was near-impossible to translate. At the same time, Lucius fought to slow his breathing, for the life-support was surely out, too. ¡°What the hell is happening?!¡± Rejo shouted over the deafening sound of the wind ripping past the hull. ¡°Domain Collapse,¡± Joan rasped through clenched teeth. ¡°Someone collapsed the Lightsea around the entire planet. And it wasn¡¯t the same Dirge from Crislend. We¡¯re in freefall now.¡± Outside, the vibrant green of the planet¡¯s surface surged toward them, distorted by the interference of the Domain. Shadows flickered across the landscape, and through the swirling mass of green, they could see shapes¡ªvague, ghostly figures moving with impossible speed just beneath the surface. Lucius¡¯ eyes zeroed in on the figures diving through the canopy below, reminding him of Sonna¡¯s mists, only given a more concrete form. Sonna, despite her own horror, spoke up with a shaky voice, ¡°Hold tight. There¡¯s nothing we can do right now. Brace for impact!¡± The pod¡¯s descent quickened, the horizon disappearing beneath them as they hurtled toward the green-lit surface. The haunting figures they had seen moments ago were now gone, vanished beneath the leaves of the treetops. All the light from the planet began to distort further, flickering in and out like a dying pulse, and a wave of pressure crashed into the pod, causing the entire craft to shudder violently. A sense of otherworldly dread filled the pod as they neared the ground. It felt like the planet was watching them, waiting for their inevitable crash. It was more than just the hazy figures. Something was here. Something was watching them. And then they hit. The impact was brutal. Metal screamed, and the pod¡¯s reinforced hull buckled under the force of the treetops. Then they gave before everything went dark once again as the pod buried itself into the planet¡¯s surface. Inside, the crew was slammed against their restraints, knocked into unconsciousness for what felt like an eternity. Only one remained conscious at the collision. Moments after steel hit the earth, Lucius¡¯ ears twitched. It was to the sound of groaning metal and the taste of blood in his mouth. His body ached, and his mind was foggy, but he forced his eyes to reopen. The pod was half-crushed, wedged deep into the soft, glowing earth of the planet. The now-orange light from the surface seeped through the cracks, filling the cabin with streaks of purple. But the Domain quickly doused the enveloping lights, siphoned away into gray. To Lucius¡¯ mind, it seemed like an eternal dusk. Sonna was already awake, cradling her bruised arm as she looked around for the others, rasping without air, ¡°Everyone... still alive?¡± Lucius managed a weak nod, then glanced at Rejo, who was groaning in his seat. The Araki had lost much of his luster but was otherwise conscious. Joan was the last to stir, blood dripping from a gash on her forehead as she wiped her eyes. ¡°Everyone¡¯s alive,¡± Sonna confirmed after a moment of checking. ¡°We need to get out. We¡¯re cats in a barrel.¡± Rejo, wincing as he unbuckled his harness, ¡°It¡¯s... ¡®ish.¡± No one paid attention to him, instead focusing on prying open the broken door. Lucius shifted through the even more claustrophobic shuttle before he flexed his strength and pried it open just enough to squeeze through. As they emerged from the wreckage, they were immediately struck by the sudden loss of the Domain shrouding them. The vast darkness receded, letting the orange and violet light return. Confusion mounted, but there were more extraordinary things to be concerned with. Towering, skeletal trees surrounded them, their branches stretching out like twisted fingers toward the sky while the leaves blotted out the stars. Amongst those trees, however, they saw a hazy figure flitter by. As if noticing the group, it halted suddenly and turned to face them. The Domain Collapse was over just as quickly as it had started, but it seemed its remnants still lingered. 43 - Cradle’s Fall Lastly. Lastly, we have the Anomalies. Once more, it is embarrassing to place myself on the list, so I shall name Anomaly 131, otherwise known as Praetor Spiro, as our leader in this realm. Beholden to no specific group, these individuals are the absolute rarest species. They possess abilities with near-unlimited potential, whether it is a Stigmata, a Tide, or an impossible physique. Most have unfortunately fallen in combat, lost themselves to their own gifts, or been executed for madness. Currently, fifteen remain. Just three are Praetors. Anomalies are not the strongest. We are not the wisest. We are not the oldest. We are, however, those with the highest chance at greatness. Let us give praise to: Anomaly 131, for his Necto. Liquid hydrogen is a mighty Tide to control. Colder than ice, more flammable than the air, and deadlier than all others. Anomaly 666, for his Duplication. Even legendary items such as Oswen¡¯s Oathsever can be copied for a time. The limits are near-endless. Anomaly 354, for her unique race. Born within a star, the Irfret has a body like none other. Even without the Lightsea, our dear Praetor Aurora has slain Anathema. Miles away from Dante¡¯s crew, Thanaris glared at her opponent, hands cresting with bloodied stakes. A low growl came from her throat as the other Anacrux nearby escaped from the battle, spreading out for their mission. The woman shifted from the icy Caesar that her two subordinates knew to an irrevocable monster. Thanaris¡¯ lips twisted upward, and her eyes narrowed, tilting down as the Domain Collapse around her vanished, leaving only thousands of ghosts created from the haze. ¡°You... dare risk shattering the entrance!?¡± Thanaris roared as she twisted, evading a lashing phantom before evaporating it with a swipe of her talons. Geist laughed, stepping along the now-devoured grasses. The greenery below transformed into a gray slush, eaten by his mists. He earned great joy from the energy all the life delivered to him. The translucent man raised his arms, and the army he had conjured shivered, ¡°Whatever do you mean? It can handle a split-second Domain Collapse. You... just have to be good enough to close it fast, like me.¡± the hazy figures flew closer to Thanaris, the most apparent threat she¡¯d ever seen. ¡°And.. so what if I can¡¯t open it again? The second I had was plenty for my Tide to bloom.¡± Thanaris¡¯ face fell. She sensed that the man spoke true. Her Domain wasn¡¯t like his. Not at all. There were several types of Domains, and those like Geist¡¯s, the Golden Domains, were traditionally labeled one of the weakest, simply enhancing one¡¯s Tide to enormous levels. But for such a short activation period, in order to not damage the entrance to the Inferose... It gave him a tremendous advantage to possess a Golden Domain. Her¡¯s, a Reactive Domain, required it to be open continually to provide any effect such as empowered defense and regeneration. Thanaris¡¯ mind swept through the possibilities, and she found only one that would counter Geist¡¯s Domain on this planet. Astraeus. He had a Mystique Domain. The rarest. Unconventional and bizarre effects were the name of his Domain and those akin to him. Yet she had sent him away. Thanaris would not have his help in this battle. Nor did she want it. Her ¡®Simmer¡¯ was too weak to join these conflicts yet. A stray attack from a Caesar might not kill him, but it could be near-fatal. That was not something she would allow. She couldn¡¯t bear the thought of him dying. His presence was the one thing that kept her mind tall against the darkness. So, her legs bent, and her body lowered as the blood surrounding her body flared. A crimson flower, blooming with a thousand spikes, erupted from her body, stabbing countless ghosts, but she wasn¡¯t fast enough. Mist had crept through, siphoning away her energy and vitality. It wasn¡¯t a life-threatening amount, but Geist wasn¡¯t a pushover. Despite Thanaris¡¯ unique Tide, her opponent could keep up with the help of his Domain¡¯s after-effects. The best move for Thanaris would be to run and wait for the Praetor to fall from the sky. She had already noticed pods dropping to the earth in the distance. It was only a matter of time. ¡°You win. For now,¡± Thanaris swept up the crimson from her flower and leaped, landing upon its airborne river. The liquid washed away her feet while gaseous, bloody smoke swamped her body, guarding against the devouring Arido. Swiftly, faster than any ancient bullet, she fled the scene. In response, Geist simply guffawed, relishing in the sight of his rival running away. The man¡¯s hands tightened as the damned around him flew closer, forming a tight-knit horde. While eyeing them all, he laughed maniacally, ¡°Yes... This should be all mine. With Hana¡¯s help and my Domain... the others shouldn¡¯t be able to compare. Not even that spiteful Praetor,¡± his hands spread out as his senses fell into the specters. ¡°Go, my children. Find the door. And kill any who oppose you. Soon, I will be one step closer to Evolution. Who does He think he is? Ordering me around...¡± To his aspirational rambling, the figures created by his Tide¡¯s empowered and precise machinations flowed outward. The thousands of hazy silhouettes entered the forest, devouring more life while investigating the world itself.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Geist felt assured he¡¯d be the first to find the entrance, and with Hana, he¡¯d be the only one to claim it. He would just have to worry about the Praetor and Thanaris afterward.
Dante¡¯s legs kicked the earth beneath him with a fury unseen before. His heart pounded alongside Astraeus, and the two ran together like they had a thousand times before. Far behind them, in the distance, Saerer did her best to catch up, but she was simply too slow. Between Dante¡¯s usage of Surewinter to further strengthen his already formidable frame and the unorthodox use of bursts of water to boost his steps, he could barely match Astraeus¡¯ inhuman physique. This was a race against time. And no matter how much Saerer may provide, she wasn¡¯t worth missing the entrance. No one knew much about these things besides the power they could bestow. Would the door remain open after one enters? Is it even a door? How do we open it? What if it¡¯s in the middle of the sky? Or deep in the earth? Questions flickered through Dante¡¯s mind nearly as fast as his feet hit the roots and grass beneath him. Nonetheless, his mind honed in on the distant beacon of power, of calling. Thanaris had landed upon the square with all the other Caesars, unable to seek out the Inferose any more strictly than that. He had no clue how they even knew it was here. Did someone else find it previously? If so¡­ why didn¡¯t they take it? How did the information leak? Was¡­ was it a Seer? Dante didn¡¯t know. There were too many uncertainties. All he did was swing his arms, slam his legs, and spawn water to cushion and enhance his footsteps. That was until he heard a burst of gunfire toward where they were running. The human peeked at Astraeus, and the Dirge nodded, already forming gloves of spiky snow. The technique was something both had come up with together, as Astraeus hadn¡¯t had a creative or violent way to use his Frigo. Now he did. They slowed down as they approached the steady beat of bullets until the two were at the pace of a creep, peering between the trees. A group was fighting off nearly a hundred see-through ghosts of haze all at once. Dante¡¯s eyes widened as he recognized two of the figures. A teleporting young man, bearing an ice-clad briefcase he beat against a ghost, was one, and the other was the armored figure with water swirling into the shape of slicing blades. The three accompanying them were vaguely familiar, but Dante didn¡¯t know their names. He whispered to Astraeus, who stared at the two of them with visceral hate, ¡°Don¡¯t. While I wouldn¡¯t stop you... we can¡¯t spare the time. Neither is it worth it.¡± Dante didn¡¯t want to fight the Judge who had saved his life, but he would if forced to. For now, he set aside his surprise and suspicion for the man being here. Instead of entertaining such thoughts, he patted Astraeus on the back. The two retreated before taking a winding path, leaving Claudius and Eight behind. They plunged into a dead sprint once more while those ghosts emerged more and more. While they ran, Astraeus spoke, explaining it to Dante, ¡°This is part of Geist¡¯s Domain Collapse! With its boost to his Tide, he can form these ghosts that can fight independently instead of having to control them! I don¡¯t know why he dared to use it this close to the entrance, though!¡± Dante nodded to his words before shouting, ¡°It only lasted a second! So, there shouldn¡¯t be all that many of them! I¡ª¡± Once more, the sound of firearms interrupted the man¡¯s race. This time, however, his head whipped to the right, and he almost toppled over. Astraeus stopped, turning back to look at his partner. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he shouted, waving the human to follow. Dante, however, twisted his neck, and his mind receded to the hundreds of memories that the specific crackle reminded him of. He had heard that gun before. It was his. And he gave it to Sonna. The realization wracked his mind. Somehow, they had found out where he was headed. And... more incredibly, they had managed to get here. Perhaps he had underestimated them. Dante spoke plainly, unable to move, ¡°My crew¡¯s here.¡± Astraeus groaned and smacked his hands together, ¡°C¡¯mon! They¡¯ll just slow us down! I remember fighting you all! The only ones worth their weight were Claudius and Eight. We need to go!¡± The human clenched his eyes closed, biting down painfully as he contemplated what to do. In the end, however, he knew his partner was right. His mission here was more important than meeting up with them. For if they failed, everyone here would probably die, anyway. So, he shook his head, apologizing to the thin air. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, guys. But... I need to go. You¡¯ll have to catch up,¡± with the goodbye without a hello, Dante nodded to Astraeus. The two swiftly restarted their sprint, racing across the planet¡¯s surface. It¡¯ll be fine. Sonna is talented with Tides. Surely, she can sense the call, too. We¡¯ll just have to meet up at the gateway or inside. It¡¯ll be fine. Dante calmed himself with unmade promises and guarantees, but they did little to ease his nerves. His mind even roamed for a moment, desiring a lick of Nullify, but he quickly became disgusted with himself. He would live without it. This time, for sure. He didn¡¯t need it anymore. Just as the man¡¯s heart settled in line to its rampant drum, he felt the flicker of something in his peripheral. His eyes twisted to the right just in the nick of time to see a bullet speed in his face. Dante contorted his flesh and bone with all the momentum he¡¯d ever had. Bones crunched, and the augments within squeaked as the man¡¯s head shifted narrowly enough to spare his life. A line of carved-out muscle lingered on his face as Dante staggered, nearly falling to the ground. Astraeus had already turned, birthing snow from the ground to act as a protective shield for the human. ¡°You alright!?¡± Astraeus hollered over rustling leaves, lowering his stance and preparing to cut space. His eyes darted all across the line of trees where the bullet came from. But as he did so, he realized that a trail of water followed the bullet¡¯s path. ¡°Yeah,¡± Dante replied as he stepped out from behind the frosty defense. The two glanced at each other, already knowing who was upon them. It was early. Far too early to fight her like this. As such, the human shouted into the trees, ¡°Hana! We don¡¯t have to fight right now! Others will take advantage! Just go the other way! Save this for later!¡± To his words, a head with shifting, watering skin and a splendid smile peeked out from behind the cover. Two liquid guns floated behind her, denoting her words with a threat as she revealed herself fully, ¡°And why would I do that when I can kill you both nice and easily? Weaklings like you shouldn¡¯t have the honor of seeing the door, let alone the inside.¡± Dante cursed under his breath, blood still flowing down his cheek. He had been too passive. It was almost always beneficial to be underestimated. Even now, it still was. There was a chance they could win this fight here with the cards they had up their sleeves. But... They didn¡¯t have time. There were too many unknowns about the Inferose. Simply put, the possibility that the first to enter would gain control of it was reason enough to rush without regard for anything else. Astraeus glanced at Dante while Hana approached them with a swagger. He spoke without opening his lips. The question for the duo was whether to go all-out. The Anathema believed they could win, and so did Dante. They both had grown substantially since their first battle against each other. Plans had been altered to fit Hana, but... Sometimes, they had to be adapted. ¡°Fine then. However, it won¡¯t be as quick as you gauged. Stay close so I can heal you, Astraeus,¡± Dante proclaimed as he sank his senses into the Lightsea. In return, its energy washed through his body, and his state was reversed. The damage to the man¡¯s face vanished, and so did the physical exertion. Sure, he felt exhausted from using his Stigmata, but since his earliest use of it, he¡¯s learned better. He¡¯s adapted. Now, it only slightly fatigues his body while placing most of that strain on his mind. Hana¡¯s eyes narrowed, seeing his condition. Dante and Astraeus could see the calculating gaze behind her oceanic pupils. The Frigo held no mote of surprise to Dante¡¯s command, as it had already been a possible bait they discussed. A moment passed, then two, and finally, Hana gauged them both to her utmost. She rolled her eyes before turning around, leaving with only three more rounds from her guns. Two roared for Dante, yet he slid behind the snowy wall for protection. Still, the water pierced the defense, leaving welts on his flesh as they impacted him with diminished power. The final one went for Astraeus, and he concentrated snow in the air to slow the water, allowing him to evade without injury. While gasping in pain, the human held his stomach where both hits sat, and Astraeus glanced over in confusion. He raised a finger toward the injury that cut through Dante¡¯s clothes, ¡°Why did she do that? Is she dumb?¡± Dante shook his head, his gaze hardening, ¡°No. She¡¯s clever. Very much so. She hit me to figure out what kind of healing I could dispense. If I still have the wounds later... then it¡¯s not something casually used. Furthermore, if she hit you, she¡¯d learn how effective my healing was on others.¡± Astraeus¡¯ eyes widened, his head shifting back and forth between the departed Dirge and the human. Then, he sighed, running a hand down his face, ¡°Shit. You two are scary. That¡¯s way too much thinking.¡± A laugh rang out from Dante while he wiped his flesh with mud from the ground. The heat stung, but he bore with it to cover the injury with debris. Then he looked at the call that reverberated toward them. It wasn¡¯t exact, only a general direction, but his gaze rested on it while he spoke, ¡°It¡¯s not too much. That¡¯s the kind of preparedness that keeps you alive. There is a reason she¡¯s so powerful. The clever, the lucky, and the absurdly talented make it rich, not the reckless.¡± The Anathema nodded, understanding what Dante meant. He added a little more, ¡°Right. And the more you have, the better your chances.¡± The two shared a look before they settled on their destination. Dante pointed in a different curve from the one Hana took, ¡°We¡¯ll go this way. A teensy bit off course, but that¡¯s better than being stopped again.¡± A moment later, both were off once more, hurtling across the landscape. However, unbeknownst to them, a minute after they had left, a woman kneeled at the splotch of blood that Dante had left on the grass. Sweat dripped off her face and pores in heaps, falling to the ground and melting the lingering tufts of snow. A grin sprawled across her cheeks while her fingers brought up the crimson liquid and tasted the iron within, ¡°Hmm... Let¡¯s see... Oh. A human. How rare. Dante Penance. How... interesting. I think I¡¯ll follow this one.¡± 44 - Drowning Covenant Of Eyes Is there anything that can match a Domain? Incomplete Domains aren¡¯t difficult to break should your mastery exceed your opponent¡¯s or if they¡¯re stretched too thin. But a Domain Collapse¡­ Only at the absolute limit of technique can one draw close to the Lightsea¡¯s innate world. A human and a faceless Anathema bolted across the dense and lofty forests. They moved with a swiftness unseen by those without the Lightsea in their veins. The two journeyed swiftly by scaling over mounds, sliding under branches, and leaping off elevated roots. Sweat poured down Dante¡¯s face while Astraeus¡¯ body vibrated with exertion. While running, the human used his Tide for another purpose. He flowed the liquid across his skin, cooling himself down and protecting him from the awful heat. They ran for nearly half an hour until they heard the first sign of combat. Deeper into the forest, they saw two figures battling each other, the conflict a flurry of blows from between trees. Dante and Astraeus knelt before creeping around the battle, careful not to use any energy that would expose their position. The warring Anathema never noticed either, and they cautiously continued onward. However, as the call from the Inferose grew more distinct, they grew slower, more stealthy. In this way, Dante taught Astraeus much of what he knew. As a smuggler, the human had done similar things countless times. He had done it all, whether sneaking past a guard or infiltrating a barracks. The Dirge was a quick learner, demonstrating once more why Thanaris valued him more than any other Anathema. He didn¡¯t just act like all the other Dirge. He was not only willing to learn from Dante, but he actively sought it out. When the two crested an edge, finding a valley down the winding hill, Astraeus turned to his partner and whispered, ¡°I sense her. Again. Deeper into the valley. It seems she¡¯s fighting. Do we join in?¡± Dante¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he searched with his senses but couldn¡¯t find what Astraeus spoke of in the dense leafage. With a hand on the ground, he bit his lip and said, ¡°Hmm... We¡¯ll have to see who she¡¯s fighting. Let¡¯s go. Stay low.¡± Both nodded before leaping over the edge and slide-walking down the hill. Dante breathed in, smelling something bizarre, but as they went down, a pulse of... something flashed past their souls. Dante knew what it was before his senses told him. They had entered the entrance to the Inferose. The thing was... Dante¡¯s breath hitched as he and Astraeus neared the bottom of the valley, the dense forest suddenly transforming into something entirely foreign. Where once towering trees had stood, their trunks thick with age, now only flaming cacti remained. Each flickered with an unnatural fire, casting eerie shadows that danced across the dry, cracked earth. The valley stretched like a mirage, too surreal to be trusted. Even the sky above was different, possessing only a haze of golden ichor, no stars, no satellites, no ships above. Just gold. Something wasn¡¯t right. He blinked hard and channeled Surewinter, the valley blurring for a moment before snapping back into focus. What the hell? His thoughts were disjointed. Unnatural. Even he could recognize that. One hand pressed against the dry ground, feeling the strange pulse of energy beneath it. It felt... wrong. His stomach churned, but his head suddenly twisted, and then the thoughts in his head normalized. Only the faint smell of something sweet lingered in his nose. The two continued, not mentioning anything else, as the moment the thought entered their minds, it was struck down. Dante¡¯s senses, usually sharp, felt dulled. The air tasted strange, metallic, almost bitter. As they crept onto the open plain, he caught a faint scent of rot mixed with the overwhelming stench of heat to combat the sweetness. The world flickered for a moment, then steadied again. He paused at the base of the valley and twisted his head as the surroundings shifted again. The man¡¯s jaw dropped at what awaited them. A horde of walking trees trudged forward, their path marked by the blazing cacti, which writhed like molten serpents. Their gnarled bodies moved unnervingly, their branches creaking and groaning like old bones. And there, battling from one side of it all, stood Hana. Everything felt wrong, out of place, but Dante couldn¡¯t put his finger on quite what. He only knew that she was dangerous. A dozen watery handguns orbited Hana in a concentric dance, firing bursts of liquid bullets into the advancing trees. Each shot blew apart chunks of wood, splinters flying in all directions. Just a few rounds from the pistols seemed to drop a treant, but... there was an endless horde of them. Dante couldn¡¯t comprehend where they had come from. Before he could consider their origins, more people appeared. Anathema, over a dozen in total, streamed from the edges of the horde, rushing them with reckless abandon. Even Astraeus strode forward, his legs begging to deliver him to the violence. Yet he still held some reason, blinking toward his partner, ¡°Dante. Come on! If we don¡¯t join the rush, we¡¯ll be too slow! They¡¯ll reach the portal before us!¡± Dante ignored Astraeus for the moment, waving him off as he tightened his focus on Hana. He felt as though she was the key to whatever he was feeling. Her movements were smooth and fluid as always, but they differed from the other Anathema. How though? That was the question he couldn¡¯t answer. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog settling over his thoughts. Astraeus, beside him, whispered hurriedly, ¡°Do we join her? Come on! We¡¯re losing our shot!¡± Dante¡¯s instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. He couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it, but every fiber of his being told him that the scene before him wasn¡¯t how it should be. Yet, when he tried to focus, it was as though his thoughts slipped away, leaving him in a haze. Surewinter bestowed a slim fraction of a second of lucidity. It wasn¡¯t enough to make anything clear. He was only sure of one thing. The Inferose already had a hold on him. Just how he was not sure yet. However, he quickly got to work, holding Astraeus by the wrist. He commanded the Dirge without room for compromise, ¡°Stay put. Do not move. Trust me.¡± Astraeus¡¯ face warred with conflict as his instincts told him to fight, to battle, to evolve and grow. But... he was given a singular order before entering this desolate planet. ¡°If Dante has a plan, you listen to it. You hear me, Simmer? He¡¯s the Talker. Just let him talk.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Thanaris¡¯ words bounced in his skull, and the Dirge calmed himself, breathing inwardly as Dante sank into his thoughts for tranquility. The human broke down what he saw even as the call shifted into something more than ominous. It was threatening, wrenching into his very guts. Hana is fighting carefully. Controlled. Not taking too many risks, just enough to push onward. The others... though... they are relentless. Reckless, taking unneeded injuries for progress. Is that it? But why? Why are they like that? Why isn¡¯t she? And... why am I not? Wait¡­ she just walked through that one. What¡­ Dante came to a terrifying conclusion as he saw Astraeus tremble with desire and the other Anathema risk their lives needlessly. Even he felt a call, one not any weaker than Nullify¡¯s. It spurred him to move, to live, and to die. ¡°It¡¯s a drug. Hallucination. Whatever. Hana seems mostly immune. You¡¯re affected. So am I,¡± Dante rose to his full height with conviction. Astraeus furrowed the flesh above his shifting eyes like a human would. Then, he raised a shivering finger, ¡°What do you mean? I feel fine. You¡¯re saying a lot of nonsense. I¡¯m about to leave you behind.¡± Dante grimaced at the thought, hastily rephrasing his words as his thoughts slipped away again. While struggling to focus, he spoke without revealing his true thoughts, ¡°We¡¯ll go now. Just be careful. Don¡¯t push to be the first or use your Domain Collapse. Everything else... it¡¯s free game.¡± The Inferose can affect thoughts. I¡¯m... fuck... What? It¡¯s pushing us to fight. It wants us to compete? This is weird. Hana is taking it cautiously, meaning she won¡¯t tire before reaching the end, but the others will. Wait¡­ is she even fighting? It¡¯s hard to tell. We¡¯ll exhaust ourselves if we fight like them, too. I need to... Noise on Dante¡¯s right ruined any chance of a detailed plan as a shimmering figure emerged from nothingness beside the two Anathemas. It loomed disturbingly like Balba, with the drenched flesh and acidic drips. The Dirge looked at Dante and Astraeus oddly before grinning eerily and turning around. With a low nod, it vanished as if it had never existed in the first place, leaving only two footprints in the sand. Dante¡¯s mind branched into another stream of thoughts to consider the man, but he cut it off early. He couldn¡¯t spare the energy. Instead, he burrowed two words into his mind, slamming them as deep as he could before sprinting forward. With each step, his Tide blossomed, and the craving he had neglected ascended into his skull with total bliss. It felt like Nullify, allowing the man to fall into his old routine. The emotionless killer had returned.
Four people ran through the forest as quickly as they could without leaving one another behind. The oppressive warmth bore into them, forcing the Araki among them to overheat. Joan had a pill to temporarily combat dehydration and heatstroke, but it only worked for Harenlar. That left Lucius enduring the sweltering temperature with only his flesh. Of the quartet, however, Sonna was the least affected. With every step, she left behind a puff of Arido, devouring energy from the plants beneath her. This energy revitalized her and fought against the burns encroaching on her flesh. This left Rejo panting and wheezing, struggling to keep up. With every step, his vision shook and flickered, but he never slowed or asked to stop. Dante was close. He could feel it. Joan had found his blood earlier, spilled in a small patch of an open clearing. Their captain was alive. So, his self-proclaimed first mate refused to falter. No matter what it would do to him. Rejo¡¯s madness proved effective, even if it caused the others to worry about him. Nonetheless, they arrived at the top of a hill overlooking a valley within an hour of landing. Ghosts dawdled behind them, trailing them like vengeful spirits but never attacking. None knew their purpose or origin, but they didn¡¯t want to linger for long. Lucius lifted his foot to step over the edge, but a voice called to him from the forest nearby. It was Claudius, ¡°Wait!¡± The group turned to see the Judge and his four crewmates stumble out from a tree resting along the hill¡¯s slope. Sonna waved a hello, shouting back, ¡°What¡¯s wrong!?¡± Something seemed to be the matter, and the young man beside Claudius affirmed Sonna¡¯s instincts, ¡°The Inferose is ahead. Something¡¯s there, causing everyone to fight all willy-nilly. Claudius has some pretty terrifying senses, but he can¡¯t pierce through it wholly. Use your Arido.¡± Sonna nodded while Lucius pulled his foot back from the slope. Her arm reached out while her mind burned with pain. As she did so, Eight spoke again, genuine surprise on his lips, ¡°Wait... have you been using it since you landed? Is that why you¡¯re not sweating? Are you... a fucking prodigy like me?¡± The young man was his typical self, endlessly prideful yet still capable of showing weakness due to his age. Lucius laughed aloud, patting Sonna on the shoulder while she focused. Claudius squinted, too, possessing his own view, ¡°Perhaps. Aridos are special. More of the cost is on their minds than body. She might just collapse at any time, and we¡¯d never know. Regardless, it¡¯s good to see you¡¯re picking it up quickly, Sonna.¡± Sonna blocked them out as her mists voyaged to the bottom of the ridge. Bursts of tiny knives emerged in her brain, but she simply bit her own teeth and continued. And there, she found a wall of some kind, blocking her out. It seemed spherical in nature. With clenched fists, she condensed her haze and tried again. The moment her Tide struck the barrier, she was flung backward, blood spiraling down her nose. Lucius caught her while Rejo scoped the area with his rifle but found nothing. Sonna spoke through the blood polluting her mouth, ¡°There¡¯s a barrier at the bottom.¡± Claudius bore a negative smile at her condition moments after his compliment. He waved to his crew and stepped forward, ¡°Okay, thanks for the confirmation. Stay here. Be our back-up. We¡¯ll go in first.¡± Lucius nodded to Claudius in thanks while he wiped up Sonna¡¯s blood. The woman pushed him away but gave up the instant she realized she couldn¡¯t stand without him. While the Judge departed with Rosa, Talander, Yue, and Eight, Rejo tagged them with his rifle¡¯s sights, following them the whole way down. Joan sat beside him, stretching out her legs after the long run. She glanced up at the Araki, stunned by his devotion, ¡°You really are insane. Sit for a moment. I know these bones could use a rest,¡± Joan lathered her pant legs with a gnarled liquid that quickly gained solidity. Bone formed across her clothes as armor now that she didn¡¯t have to run endlessly. Rejo didn¡¯t acknowledge her words. Rather, he kept his eye on the suspicious valley. He felt his captain out there, somewhere, and he longed to join him in battle. Joan sighed at his ignorance, speaking instead to the two who would listen, ¡°We¡¯re probably almost to the entrance. Something bizarre, like a barrier, seems adequate for our case. Don¡¯t forget your weapons and tools, children. Blood is about to spill,¡± her voice was ominous, a low trill that came from her lungs. It drew Sonna¡¯s attention through her headache. She flitted her eyes over to the four-armed doctor and scoffed, ¡°Must you be so dreary? Lighten up a bit, doc.¡± A glare was her only answer. With a shake of her head, Sonna looked up at Lucius, the man holding her aloft. She patted him as feeling returned to her legs, ¡°I¡¯m fine for now. I¡¯ll just have to be careful from now on. It¡¯ll be your job to protect me, huh?¡± The Martian shifted his gaze down to her, a giant meeting a mouse. He offered a slight smile before changing the subject, ¡°Sure. I think we should go now. He let us wait for you to recover.¡± A series of nods followed, and the group swiftly descended the hill. Joan¡¯s bony armor protected nearly every inch of her flesh, even her bag of concoctions. Meanwhile, Sonna formed more mist, and Rejo scouted the surroundings with his guns. Less than a minute later, the four stood at the barrier where Sonna¡¯s perception halted. Lucius stared ahead, and his sharp eyes saw only more trees and a sense of unnatural calm. He didn¡¯t like it. Not one bit. But that didn¡¯t matter, for Rejo had already leaped ahead into a dead sprint. Joan and Sonna followed him, with Lucius on their heels. The Martian felt something press against his mind; it was soft and caressing. Then it skittered off, finding him uninteresting. Lucius raised a hand to his temple, finding the three with him to be acting strange. Well, two of them. Rejo rushed ahead without concern for his safety as usual, but Joan and Sonna joined him in this crusade. He wanted to slow down and think, but even after he called after them, his crew ignored him entirely. So, he could only race after them, lost in his thoughts while seeking an answer. What the hell is going on?
While Lucius struggled with reality, Claudius stood still, his feet making it mere feet into the plain before he stood stock still. In a flash of a second, his mind warped in pain, and his sight beyond eyes forced him to see the unseen. A flicker of blood assailed his nose. He opened his hidden gaze to find his crew torn apart. A boom resounded before Talander¡¯s sword arm blew straight off his body. Eight vanished, teleporting behind a hooded figure, who smacked the young man away before his knives could land. Rosa sprinted for cover, dragging Talander toward a rock with her stubby thorns, but another spark followed them. The woman came within an inch of losing her legs. The Irgen, however, was not so lucky. In this future, Claudius heard a male voice speak to him, utterly encompassed by hatred, ¡°The Praetor¡¯s little one. The Wraith would like your head.¡± Claudius moved his head, only within this fractured image as a pitch-black liquid blocked all of Yue¡¯s bullets toward the hooded figure. Not an ounce of light reached the man¡¯s face, revealing nothing to the Judge¡¯s gaze. Instead, the stranger¡¯s cleaver cut Yue¡¯s left arm while the woman scrambled to dodge the wrathful whirlwind. Again, Eight appeared, and he didn¡¯t escape this time. The Anomaly held his ground while Claudius remained frozen. Eight fended off the man for several seconds, drawing blood at the cost of injury. Still, in the vision, Claudius could only see the teen¡¯s eventual defeat. The bloodied form beside his feet a moment later left him reeling. Eight? Beaten? Without major injury? Claudius lifted his eyes but still couldn¡¯t confirm the shadow¡¯s condition. All he knew was that death had arrived. His teeth ground against each other as fate sank into his mind. His eyes told him to run. They told him of the definite future if he stayed. They would all die. But he refused. He couldn¡¯t run. She was relying on him. The Seer clenched his eyes, forcing his presence to peer through reality. However, nothing caved. He was at his limit. Seeing the future was a gift few possessed. Fewer could do it on a whim. His Stigmata was held in such a high regard for this reason. He could force that connection to reality, even if only toward the past. Now, though, he found it lacking. How? How do I survive? How does my crew survive? Claudius¡¯s mind raced in this stretched time, but he couldn¡¯t scrounge up an answer. He was missing too much information. Who was this man? Where did he come from? What was his Tide? His Stigmata? His species? Too many unknowns. Too many uncertainties. He had to find them. Reality restarted, and blood trickled down his nose from the sudden connection. His crew ran toward the flickering, phantasmal illusions. He wanted to call out to them, but he couldn¡¯t. A voice echoed in his mind, that of the closest thing to a brother he had. ¡°Claudius. Your life¡­ it¡¯s too important to Praetor Sun. As such¡­ I will teach you how to create a Contract. This is not something to be used lightly. Most people can¡¯t even get the Lightsea¡¯s attention with years of praying. I can¡¯t do it. Yet she¡¯s confident you can. Only one can be made, though. So¡­ listen carefully, and tread lightly.¡± Rasa¡¯s harsh lesson emerged at the forefront of Claudius¡¯ mind. On instinct, he knew this was the only way forward. While his crew rushed forward, the Judge knelt, and he whispered to his greatest foe that had proved to love him dearly. Eight glanced backward for only a second before shaking his head as if he saw nothing. ¡°Oh ¡®Sea. Oh ¡®Sea. Oh ¡®Sea. I plead for your ear.¡± The instant Claudius finished his words, the surrounding atmosphere changed. A towering presence turned to face him, and an unknown tongue ran over its teeth in excitement. The unknown, unfathomable being that was the Lightsea lent its ear to its chosen. A pressure descended upon the Judge¡¯s spine. The weight was so heavy that Claudius felt his bones creak and his eyes bulge. Nevertheless, he knew he only had one thing to offer that would matter. For years and years, he had always been told he would be strong. He could no longer wait. So, what did he submit? His future. Such pained Claudius beyond imagination, for tears built in his eyes with each word. But he couldn¡¯t stop. It was death for himself and his crew or letting down his Praetor. Neither was acceptable. The Lightsea could only give that which was possible. He had his eyes opened. There was more to see. ¡°An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart. A life for a life. Oh, ¡®Sea. Oh, ¡®Sea. Oh, ¡®Sea. I offer my future, my potential to master my grandfather¡¯s Domain Collapse, and any other I may have access to. I swear to never learn another Tide. Hydro shall be my sole future. In exchange, I demand that my eyes beyond sight open, my ears beneath hearing deepen, and my hands betwixt shadow extend.¡± With his concluding remark, Claudius sensed a fathomless depth encompassing him. For a moment, he feared what it may do. However, it bore no hostility. No known creature controlled the Lightsea. It was an unclaimed realm, a power not yet dominated. As such, it could be bargained with by those it found worthy. Yet, no power came without sacrifice. Either one gave their time, blood, sweat, and tears, or¡­ They gave something far more precious. And should they betray the covenant placed, the Lightsea would turn on them. Such was a fate worse than death. No verbal reply returned to Claudius¡¯ ears. Instead, his lips moved on their own as past, present, and future melded, and he spoke to a creature not dissimilar to his benefactor, ¡°Oh, ¡®Rose. Oh, ¡®Rose. Oh, ¡®Rose. I offer myself to your trial.¡± Then, the Judge vanished before the eyes of all onlookers, even to Lucius¡¯ gaze that pierced illusions. 45 - The Waning Hearts Fire Phages are the starting point for most Seafarers, initially granting only minor use of the Stigmata or Tide. The lucky have Archies, granting a swath of knowledge and skill, and skip the starting line. The children of the supremely powerful may get a Chronism as a gift, bestowing years of technique in a moment. But that¡¯s the limit of the talented. Any higher¡­ And the soul will be devoured. A person without any experience, skill, or Tide of their own will be washed away by a Thema. It is said only ten in history have managed to withstand such an inheritance through priceless drugs and opportunities. That¡¯s not even to mention a Crux. Though¡­ It is technically possible. Technically. However, I do not know who I pity more, the fellow who lives after such a battle in their soul or their enemies that must face them afterward. Lucius raced forward, his body instinctively tracking the unnatural pulse of the battlefield ahead. His sharp eyes glimpsed Dante in the distance, beyond the crew he had lived with the past few months, fighting with a ferocity that was nothing short of madness. The human progressed with rapid precision, dodging and weaving between the towering trees, each burst of his water throwing a tree off-kilter. Astraeus was beside him, battling with the same relentless fury. They fought as if possessed, though the human was still aware enough not to throw away his life. He let the Dirge take point despite the bloodthirst radiating off of them. The two were a deadly pair, tearing through their enemies without pause. Still, they were nothing compared to the woman Lucius had witnessed across the grassy valley. She moved like a nightmare, untraceable, uncatchable. Just seeing her sent chills down his spine. But Lucius couldn¡¯t afford to focus on them. His gut twisted, warning him of something else. He split his mind, tearing through it for the meaning of the sensation. A moment later, he felt it. A presence stalked him and his group, unseen but palpable. There were more than just five senses. And the Martian had all those five raised to eleven on their own. As such... Lucius licked his lips as he dissected the feeling, running with his crew. The feeling was predatory, an icy sensation running down his spine as they rapidly approached the battlefield. He glanced around warily, and that¡¯s when he saw it. A figure lurked in the shadows, barely visible amidst the treeline they had just now left. The figure hunched over, its posture unnatural, and its eyes, wild and narrowed slits of dripping hunger, were fixed on them. A sense of dread settled over Lucius. He knew when he faced another predator. This thing... it was like him. A killer. The figure licked its lips, the motion slow and deliberate, a beast savoring the moment before the kill. This was a Dirge that lived to hunt, to maim, and to kill. It was not much, unlike Lucius in his youth. Then, the figure noticed Lucius staring. A grin, vast and grotesque, spread across its face. Bloodthirst with equal parts ambition flashed in its preying gaze. In an instant, it shot forward with unnatural speed, moving faster than Lucius could register. Fast! Lucius recognized the figure as it sped toward him. It was the Dirge from before that was dripping acid. It even howled as it rushed him down, ¡°You can see through it, too! Yes! Let us prove ourselves!¡± An instant later, the figure closed the distance, swinging an open claw toward the Martian as he contorted his body from his sprint. Lucius¡¯s attempt to turn was cut short. A nail, no a talon, lashed out with acidic sharpness, tearing open his chest. The force continued, too, and sent Lucius skidding backward. The man stumbled, only staying on his feet from his prodigious sense of balance and control over his body. Still, the force rattled his bones and left cerulean fluid dripping from him in rivulets. Lucius raised a hand to the wound, feeling the lack of cell recovery he was used to. Poison. The soldier¡¯s thoughts tightened in a battle, composing only what mattered most. And with his singular thought, he crouched, lowering his stance while the others ran on ahead. He had to fight this thing. Otherwise... It would kill the others. It would tear through them. It would be unstoppable. Only he was fast enough. Nonetheless, he was only barely adequate not to die immediately. The next strike came at his side before he could fully recover, a knee driving into his ribs with bone-cracking force. Lucius let out a sharp gasp, feeling the air leave his lungs as he was forced onto the back foot. He lifted his rifle, but a swift slap to the weapon knocked it from his grasp. Then, he reached for his hatchet and swiftly had that dispatched, too. His opponent countered every move he made in an instant. The figure¡¯s speed and strength were overwhelming. And it knew that. It lowered, matching Lucius¡¯ stance with wide, open arms. Then, it mocked him, ¡°No Tides? No Stigmata? Not even a lick of a droplet. Are you... No. You survived two hits. Hmm... Hide your secrets to your grave, then.¡± It was as if Lucius were fighting Astraeus all over again¡ªexcept this was different. More physical. More visceral. It was like the figure thrived on the brutality, each hit growing stronger and more savage. And maybe it was; Lucius didn¡¯t know much about Stigmata. What he did know, however, was this Dirge was a Miro who relied on its speed and dripping fluids. They used evaporating water to enhance itself and coat its strikes in acid. With the next strike, Lucius ducked, avoiding a strike aimed at his head, but it didn¡¯t matter. The Anathema followed up with a flurry of punches and kicks, each one more brutal than the last. The nails on his hands and the talons on his bare feet sliced into the Martian¡¯s flesh, opening up wounds that refused to close. He could barely defend himself, his tremendous muscles straining under the constant barrage. It played with him, waiting for Lucius to use his Tide or some other ability. But Lucius didn¡¯t have any of that. Now that his two chief weapons were knocked aside, he only had his body and mind. His eyes flicked to the gun and axe, but he shook the thought away. I¡¯m outclassed. Completely. Lucius realized the truth, feeling the sting of reality sink in. He couldn¡¯t win this. Not as he was now. Not as he would ever be. This being... it was unnatural, even more so than he. His mind raced, searching for a way to survive as more blood flooded the grass below. Strike after strike, Lucius bore the hurt as he was built to. Even the Dirge¡¯s face revealed surprise by the thirtieth second of the beatdown. But through the haze of pain and the frantic pace of battle, he remembered Joan¡¯s trade with him when he offered his Immortal Corpse. The syringe. The one thing he¡¯d sworn he wouldn¡¯t use. Its side effects were unknown and potentially lethal, knowing the psychotic doctor.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. But this wasn¡¯t a battle he would win. Lucius gritted his teeth, ducking under another vicious blow while its follow-up slammed into his chin. The Martian was flung backward, head spinning through the air. His mind shook and swam inside his skull until he hit the dirt. There, he heard footsteps resound behind him calmly while the voice spoke, ¡°How odd. Are you just buying time, then? A meat shield? Damn. The Romans sure are desperate. Maybe Father could take down Praetor Sun.¡± The words dug into Lucius¡¯ brain like knives scraping out tissue. He bit down hard on his jaw, then reached for his belt, drawing out the abyssal-tinted syringe Joan had given him. She had given everyone her expensive recovery serums, but this one was different. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with it, his nerves and muscles broken from the onslaught. Then a hand took the vial from him, laughing as it did so, ¡°You think this will kill me? I¡¯m a Miro, dumbass. We¡¯re immune to poison. Here, let me send you on your way.¡± Lucius¡¯ eyes unfocused as the blood loss sank in. Such a gaze allowed him to see the rest of his crew hurry onward toward the shimmering rift in the background. Claudius¡¯ crew regrouped with Sonna, and, missing the Judge, seven Seafarers rushed toward Dante. He could almost hear their shouts of aggression, of violence, as they slaughtered the false living trees in unison. They were the largest group, though, and other Dirge were taking notice. He could see their coming deaths should they continue as they have. They needed to retreat. No one else could see reality. They were... They needed Lucius. But it didn¡¯t matter. He had already failed. Perhaps... I should have bit the bullet. Maybe... I¡¯d see... h... Mid-thought, a needle drove into his throat, the cold liquid flooding his veins almost immediately. It shocked his system with a shiver, and his eyes opened to their limits as he met the Dirge¡¯s gaze for the first time. Their souls conversed silently, words of malice shared with only a look. For a brief moment, there was nothing but that stale silence and the Anathema¡¯s smirk. Then it hit him. Power¡ªraw, untamed, and wild¡ªsurged through Lucius¡¯ body with a bloodstained torrent. His cells, already perfected engines, somehow enlarged, opening up to the world as they siphoned more energy where there was none to give. They stole from his life, trading years for this power. His muscles condensed while ballooning, his bones cracked and reformed to fit the colossal fibers, and his senses sharpened to a painful degree. The augmented hearts pounded in his chest, faster, stronger, as the energy coursed through him. The weakness from the earlier injuries melted away, replaced by a searing, primal sensation that ignited every nerve in his body. Lucius grinned darkly, feeling the rush take over. He felt young again, truly young. He felt as though he could kill anything. His eyes locked onto the figure holding the needle in his jugular. Malice was once more shared, but one side had rediscovered their soul lost to the fathoms of grief. A fist tightened and burst out, striking the Dirge directly in the chest. The man shot backward, bouncing off the grass and tumbling to a halt with a trail of broken earth. Then, a cacophony of chuckles entered Lucius¡¯ addled mind, ¡°Yes! You are strong! I am Zed, son of Balba of Clan Pestilence. Which House do you hail from?¡± The Martian returned a snort, finding it amusing that Dirge were broken into families. He didn¡¯t even know they had any such affiliations. He thought they were all monsters. Lucius fixed his stance, rising back to his feet as the roaring wave within him began to reach its peak. He could feel it. This is the strongest he¡¯d ever been. Joan didn¡¯t lie. This could elevate an ordinary man to his near-supernatural force. But for the Martian... He smiled through the bloody teeth that lined his mouth, offering nothing to Zed. Instead, he plunged toward his opponent. The boots beneath his feet left holes in the dirt, kicking up grass and hurtling him with a speed that matched Zed¡¯s. Furthermore, the unhealing wounds finally closed, sealing the blood inside. A fist swung for Zed¡¯s skull as Lucius¡¯ body moved on instinct, the raw power surging through his veins unable to be released in any other way. Zed raised his own claws and retaliated without missing a step. Their blows collided like thunder, each hit sending tremors through the air and into the ground beneath them. Fists met flesh while claws slashed arteries, bone cracked, and blood spilled, but neither backed down. Lucius swung another right hook, his fist colliding with Zed¡¯s slimy jaw, the impact sending the Dirge stumbling back. But just as quickly as the strike had landed, the Anathema¡¯s body seemed to shimmer with moisture. Visible to the naked eye, the wounds began closing, much like the Martian¡¯s healing. The Dirge let out a maniacal laugh, his face twisted in exhilaration as he charged back in, his nails slashing toward Lucius. A Miro could heal, enhance themselves, and... with Zed¡¯s Clan, poison others whom his humidity infected. Lucius twisted, narrowly avoiding the claw in the eyes, but the sharp talons still grazed his cheek, leaving a trench that hollowed out his left ear. It was impossible for him to fight with his typical agility. He couldn¡¯t take advantage of his years of experience. He could only fight like a caged beast, burning his blood without technique. Lucius¡¯ heart pounded in his chest, and his vision swam from the force of the slash. He pushed it aside for now as the Biotic surged within him, sealing the wounds shut even as the pain gnawed at his mind. The battle between them was feral. It was primal. They were two predators locked in a deadly dance, uncaring of the warfare a few hundred feet away. Neither retreated, neither slowed. Lucius¡¯ body screamed with exertion, the Brute Biotic pushing his muscles and bones beyond their unnatural limits. But Zed met him equally, lashing out with wild abandon, thriving on the chaos, for his confidence in his own strength was unshakable. His upbringing under the guidance of an Anacrux, much like Astraeus, equipped him with exceptional strength and numerous styles. Meanwhile, Lucius had nothing but the drug in his veins. Zed¡¯s fist smashed into Lucius¡¯s ribs, sending him crashing into the dirt. Nevertheless, Lucius was moving before the Dirge could follow up, retaliating with a devastating low kick that sent Zed to the floor. Both men healed nearly as quickly as they were hurt, their regeneration turning the fight into a brutal, drawn-out slugfest. Blow after blow landed, bodies crashing together in a relentless storm of violence. Blood sprayed the ground beneath them, but neither cared. The two lost themselves in the battle, now caught in the Inferose¡¯s pull like all the others¡ªlost to the bloodlust that gnawed at their minds, urging them to fight, to kill, to survive. However, their conditions were not equal. Zed¡¯s regeneration came in equal parts from his body and mind, honed by practice from his Tide and augmented by his Stigmata. Both empowered him as he fought while Lucius was losing ground. Second after second, the fuel within his cells dried up. The tiny, efficient structures fought with all they had. Soon, there would be no more gasoline for the living engine. Lucius rained blows upon Zed, each strike meeting flesh with a sickening crack, yet the Dirge pressed on, undeterred by the carnage. The Martian had even stolen his axe back, only to break it upon Zed¡¯s innards. The Anathema was relentless. No injury seemed to slow him. All they did was illuminate his eyes gleaming with excitement, his smile growing wider with every hit he took. Zed reveled in the pain, feeding off the battle, his confidence unwavering even as his body tore apart. On the other hand, the unnatural strength granted by the Brute Biotic was evaporating, and Lucius could feel it. His muscles, once pulsing with power, now felt sluggish. His own body was betraying him, for it had run out of gas and overdrawn his organs. The meaty fists, which were sledgehammers swung by cranes, now struggled to close. The wounds that had healed so rapidly moments before were now lingering, the blue blood flowing freely. He was running out of time. And he knew it. Though Zed was wounded, his body marked by gashes and bruises, the Dirge¡¯s relentless Tide continued unabated beneath his skin. A Miro excelled most at close combat. His laughter echoed through the clearing, a haunting sound that only Lucius heard, ¡°You... are... strong... Tideless. No one¡¯s pushed Battleheart this far before... You¡¯ve shown me how to grow this Stigmata of mine... thank... you...¡± Lucius gasped for breath as his legs buckled, his vision blurring with the world darkening. His body was giving out every ounce of energy spent. His legs trembled, barely holding him upright, and his fists hung at his sides, too heavy to lift. Zed loomed before him, bloodied but triumphant, the grin still plastered across his face. The Martian fell to the ground, utterly devoid of energy. His mind went dark, and his soul teetered toward the end. Yet, within that dark, a pale light emerged. The brilliance was burning, etching itself into Lucius¡¯ existence. Through the darkness, a voice spoke to Lucius that he thought he¡¯d never hear again. It was his wife. Yet, he couldn¡¯t pinpoint where she was, only that she spoke to him in this nothingness. ¡°Lucius. It¡¯s been years. Why are you still restraining that rage of yours? You did it for me, but¡­ I¡¯m gone. So are our twigs. Be free, my love. Be happy. Though, I know you. You need something to protect. That boy needs you. Watch over him. As you would for Zachariah or Hope. Or me.¡± The darkness grew silent for a moment, with Lucius¡¯ mind on the brink of collapse. He knew he was hallucinating, hearing things that couldn¡¯t be real. But he didn¡¯t care. He latched onto that voice. And it gave him strength. ¡°Rage, my grizzly bear. Tear it limb from limb. I did not marry you for your strength but for your ability to control it. Remove the reins. Rage. Show it a Martian¡¯s fury. Show him our fury.¡± A dead man¡¯s fingers twitched, his fists slowly curling again despite the nerves screaming for him to stop. Lucius could barely see through the swirling blur of night in his eyes, but that wouldn¡¯t stop him. A boiling rage overflowed into his soul, the same kind as what he felt when he found his family¡¯s massacred bodies. It was impossible to stop. The rage was something he had long forced down. It was something he had learned to control. To harness. But this time... He wouldn¡¯t stop it. For Archimedes. For Meredith. For Zachariah. For Hope. This creature had to die here. It could not continue to hurt any more. It could not reach the blissfully ignorant crew. Before Lucius could fall, his right foot caught upon the dirt with a splatter of scarlet. The final act of the man¡¯s life had begun. Zed lunged, his claws aimed for Lucius¡¯s throat with a final mercy, but the Martian propelled himself just barely. His body protested every motion as he pivoted his hips, his joints locking up, but he swung his fist, catching Zed across the face with a brutal punch as the claw sliced open only the side of his neck. Stunned by the resistance, the Dirge stumbled, but Lucius didn¡¯t give up. He kept swinging, each punch slower, weaker, but he didn¡¯t stop. He wouldn¡¯t stop. The Martian¡¯s vessel had long since given up, but his mind and will pushed him forward. All beings had a name for their kind¡¯s spirits. They venerated the willful and the powerful. There was, however, only one species that ever stood alone at the stop with their souls. Like his ancestors and creators, the Martian hid something deep within himself. It was a nature that only they possessed amongst all the stars. An immortal soul. And more than that, he held a physique that none could naturally match. The Martian¡¯s secondary heart howled in uproar, delivering him the ultimate fuel of life that all his people would feel. It was the flickers of a firework, brightest in its last moment. Each hit from Zed sent Lucius reeling, but he kept coming. His fists swung long after he had lost the sensation of both his heartbeats, long after his vision had gone completely dark. The Biotic surged one last time, burning through what little life force remained in him, but it was enough to keep him moving. Even after his body had stopped living, Lucius fought. And then... the hits vanished. Zed¡¯s laughter faded into gasping coughs, and the sound of his joy evaporated. It was through that darkness and that silence that Lucius heard a noise. It was a popping sound, swiftly followed by a high-pitched, orchestral voice that brought light back into his eyes, ¡°Incredible! Absolutely fantastic! Yes. You¡¯ll do mighty fine. A vessel of evolution, countless lives throwing themselves into a fiery battle for immortality!¡± When Lucius¡¯ gaze returned, he found himself kneeling before an upside-down corpse shaped like a blossoming rose holding up unseen stars. However, the thing that made his eyes widen was that the corpse was a thousand feet tall and rose into the heavens of a plane without a sky. Burning roses encompassed the world above and behind as Lucius realized where he was. However, he remained unhealed. Only given aid. What is¡ª Blood suddenly spurted out of his mouth and flowed from all other vessels as he crumpled to the floor, seizing from the effects of the Biotic. A pitiful, disembodied tone rang out once more, ¡°Man... I really hope you live. None of those guys seem like a proper fit. I want to be like Nightshade! Oh! He has such a cool owner! Nandum didn¡¯t even kill him for strength! You wouldn¡¯t do that to me, would you? You wouldn¡¯t. I¡¯ll do what I can. Let¡¯s get you away from the center.¡± Lucius¡¯ life drained from his body as he lay on an open field of lightly singed flowers, staring up at the corpse. Sanguine fluids, alongside sickly ones, dyed the ashes below. There, he noticed the body, staked into the earth by some root, was the being that had spoken. Is that the Inferose? Without an answer and only a pinch to his arm, he lost the light. 46 - Where Fingers Fail It is one in several thousand that possesses any modicum of power. One in a million reaches the requirements for a Judge. In a group of one hundred million, there may not be a single Centurion. Meanwhile, amidst the entirety of the Roman Empire¡¯s many billions, there are only 312 currently. Above them? We are fortunate to have six Legates in the modern age. There were centuries when we only had the Evening Seraphim and Anomaly 0 to protect us. Those were dark days, indeed. A human whipped a chain of water backward, hauling the tree before him to lowering its unnatural, grinning bark. The moment it bowed its head, Astraeus struck with his Stigmata, warping space and slicing the creature¡¯s neck in twain. Their enemy quickly fell, but more replaced it. There was always more. Slowly, the fatigue settled in, and his arms were slower, his legs filled with lead. The prickling in his mind stabbed painfully, a warning that he had used too much of his Tide. None of those were what stopped him from fighting. No. It was that Hana was getting closer. At this point, he thought she was rushing through the enemies, an unstoppable wave of force. Dante stopped for a split second, weighing his own hands and the strength left within them. Could he make it to the rift? Yea¡ª Trust nothing. A forgotten thought woke Dante as if from a slumber. His eyes widened, and though the illusions remained, he knew they were there. The trees weren¡¯t real, no matter how they looked. No one had died to them. Not a single Anathema. The only way they had been killed was... Hana. Like a lightning bolt struck him, Dante found an answer. She was immune and taking advantage of the Inferose. Despite his realization, the illusory teeth continued to sink into his mind. No matter how he placed himself, they were impossible to extricate from himself. But Hana was just a few feet away. She was on the other side of the horde, thou¡ª ¡°Duck!¡± Dante screamed to his partner. Through their months together, Astraeus obeyed without hesitation, even through his own madness. The Anathema hit the dirt, not the sand that Dante once saw, and escaped a certain death. The human shook his head, the fingers of the Inferose digging deeper, forcing aside his thoughts. He had grown attached to the feeling of quiet slaughter. Of one kill after another. It was all so simple. He... he was terrified of what it led to. Dante was a man easily addicted. He loved his routines and the familiarity of the things he knew. Rarely would he ever eat something new or try out a new weapon. He stuck to what he knew. What did Dante know best? Pain. With a squeeze of his revolver¡¯s grip, Dante twisted his wrist and fired. A bullet sailed through the air, blowing straight through the human¡¯s right foot and splattering blood all over. His balance immediately stumbled, and agony escalated violently throughout his body, that of a tipping point. Dante¡¯s mind screamed from his Tide, and his body howled with the loss of flesh and muscle. However, the man had sought such a thing. While all others panicked or trembled in the face of torture, isolation, or certain death, a human¡¯s heart sped up. For most, it was the simple case of adrenaline ignoring all else in the case of now¡¯s survival, but Dante was different. Time slowed while his mind sharpened, and he escaped the illusion through the whetstone of burning nerves. An open field was all that was left to his eyes. The distant Anathemas he had thought were still alive and fighting for the rift were now dead. Every last one of them. And their blood? It followed Hana¡¯s footprints like a flood led around by levees. To his right, Claudius was there alongside his crew. They were swinging wildly, killing imaginary creatures and exhausting themselves. Behind him, his own crew rushed to catch up. Somehow, they had made it this far. Only, they were missing the Martian, though none seemed to notice in their madness. Still, they were close. Just a little away. He hadn¡¯t seen them before through the horde surrounding Astraeus and him. To Dante¡¯s left grinned a terrible woman. Water coated her flesh, shielding her from any attack, and distorted that damned smile. Astraeus fought for both of them against the illusions while the human stood back and met Hana¡¯s gaze. He spoke first, ¡°You knew this would come?¡± The Anathema shrugged, answering simply, ¡°No, but the best place for a massacre is a gathering of psychos. Easy to divert blame.¡± Despite the fire searing his veins, rising from his feet, and descending from his skull, Dante¡¯s world calmed. With a mere glimpse at this woman, he knew he wasn¡¯t her match. He knew he wouldn¡¯t even be able to hold her off for more than a moment without some trick. Nevertheless, something within Dante told him otherwise. It said that he was special. Amongst all these people, these inhuman creatures, these... monsters... Dante had one aspect over all of them, besides Hana, of course. It was something they had in common. They could see the truth of this world. Not just what the Inferose offered but the absolute, genuine truth. He shifted his gaze toward the rift, ¡°What is the Inferose, really?¡± his question was honest yet na?ve, but he knew he would get an answer. And he did without frills or laughs, ¡°It is the dreams of the living. It is their hope. It is their fear. These minor dimensions... all come from some unconscious impact on reality from its inhabitants. This one? It¡¯s got three or so, but its core is Evolution, birthed by the boiling wars to come,¡± as Hana spoke, her oceanic eyes turned back to Dante. ¡°It is a precursor. A lit match for the coming age. That is why I must have it.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The human nodded, understanding her ambition. She was much like him. Hana didn¡¯t have to say it, but he could see the weight of her gaze. She had been through much. Hana wasn¡¯t like Astraeus, born with a golden spoon and gifted incredible techniques and an equally impossible Stigmata. Her power came from her skill with her Tide and that alone. The sole rifle of Hydro she held in her hands that nearly killed Astraeus was a masterpiece in his eyes. The guns that swam around her proved that she was willing to steal anything she had to survive. Sentients? Other Dirge? Mystical dimensions? She didn¡¯t care. She would do anything she had to in order to survive. He had seen that in their first meeting. Only now did he see it clearly. They were the same. Only the woman had more time, and he had less. Dante was at a disadvantage, just like always. He settled into it nicely, speaking softly as his body vibrated with barely endured exhaustion, ¡°I see. Well, I¡¯m afraid you can¡¯t have it. I took the job.¡± Hana giggled like rippling water, lifting a hand to her lips amongst the maddened calmness. She knew she would win and was not afraid to admit it, ¡°Oh, is that so? I can¡¯t say I¡¯m so scared. Because this isn¡¯t a job for me. This is my future.¡± Dante¡¯s head jostled while his fingers contorted into a tangled knot. Then, he raised the hand toward Hana with a finger gun, only the two fingers of the barrel were wrapped around each other. In his peripheral vision, Dante saw his crew fighting for their lives as he took a deep breath. They wouldn¡¯t make it in time. Astraeus couldn¡¯t break out of the illusions on his own. Just calling out to him only worked with minor things. Hana knew that. So, she would just save the Frigo for later. Instead, she would kill the single man who was not blind, securing her position. Even the Judge''s Jury seemed helpless under the onslaught. Certain death. That was all Dante saw. But he felt so much more. At this very moment, he felt... The air entered his lungs. And he tasted its staleness. It was... enjoyable through the heat. With the feverous condition, he recalled Astraeus¡¯ words when they first met. Dante had been asked if he wished to die. Back then, he was unsure. But now he knew truly. He had wanted to die. More than that, he had wished he had died long ago. So why didn¡¯t he? Why didn¡¯t he just end it years prior? Because Dante Penance wasn¡¯t a man who could die that way. That is what he believed, deep down, that he was better than the cards dealt. His mother died in childbirth, his brother went to a gang beatdown, and his father vanished without a word after years of abuse. By all depths, he had no right to be so prideful. And yet he was. It was his grandest and most powerful sin. ¡°You misunderstand me, Hana. This is not only a job for me. Who would hire me in the future if I failed? No one likes humans. If I ever fail just once... it¡¯s over. People only follow me for what I can do for them,¡± Dante¡¯s voice held no hitches or fear. He was utterly accepting of who he was. Hana squinted, not entirely understanding but humoring the dead in her sights, ¡°If you fail once? Are you saying you¡¯ve never failed before?¡± Dante nodded toward Astraeus, ¡°Once, but the Lightsea ruined the record. I¡¯m a different man now. I¡¯ll let you live if you stand down.¡± A resounding fit of laughter broke through the din of madness, echoing across the plain. Hana nearly buckled over, lowering the barrel of her rifle. Unable to even look at the human, she mocked him, ¡°You... you¡¯re the most arrogant, prideful, and overconfident man I¡¯ve ever met!¡± In response, Dante only nodded. With his acknowledgment, a being whispered in his ear, ¡°Yes. You see it now. But you cannot kill her. Retreat. The Praetor is about to descend.¡± Judas spoke for the first time in many weeks. He spoke of caution, of survival, of an authentic concern. But it was not worry for Dante¡¯s life, it was some other, more conceited perspective. The planet shook as if on cue, and dust exploded into the distant atmosphere. The Caesars were fighting. Maybe they were all against Praetor Sun. Perhaps they weren¡¯t. Who knew? Did it matter to him? Truly? No. None of them would be on his side in the end. He had his crew. They were behind him. They had proven themselves. As he ripped the power from the Lightsea, water burst from Dante¡¯s soul, and he concentrated the blast beyond his imagination. His mind was so honed, so stressed at that moment that it was the most brilliant engine of change. The cutting stream of Hydro flew straight for Hana¡¯s doubled-over back, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The guns behind her fired simultaneously, and the two dozen bullets broke through his piercing Tide. They passed his waves and struck his outstretched arm, nearly blowing it off his shoulder. Dante fell back with a fountain of blood emerging from his veins opened to the air, staggering to Hana¡¯s words, ¡°It must just be a fluke that you can see through it, then.¡± Then, Hana moved to kill, staring straight at the human. A barrage of water flew toward the human, each missile moving with the force of a fifty caliber''s weight. Dante was swiftly blown to bits by the hundred rounds before a cloud of dirt ascended from where his corpse fell. At least, that was what Hana believed. A bolt of water flew straight past Hana, missing her entirely, while Dante, stumbling through the smoky brownness, emerged unharmed. Both shock and bewilderment encompassed the Anathema¡¯s face. She couldn¡¯t believe his healing was that effective, yet his aim was that terrible. ¡°You...¡± Hana trailed off before catching her words, ¡°Are most peculiar. But that doesn¡¯t matter if you miss half the time.¡± Her opponent grinned, his clothes utterly unharmed and his condition marred only by fatigue. Then, he murmured, ¡°I missed? I don¡¯t think so.¡± Hana heard the words too little too late, for another set had already fallen into reality. A Dirge had been awoken from his madness with a hole in his chest. The pain from such a small wound would last a mere instant to the Anathema, but he knew Dante''s tricks. Astraeus didn¡¯t wait a second before joining his partner in the battle of their lives, for the single round did little to his clotting snow. ¡°Domain Collapse: Inverted Palace.¡° The horrifying palace that Dante had dreamt nightmares of rose behind Hana, sealing away her access to the Lightsea. It grew slightly physical, like a condensed fog in the air, Astraeus'' mastery rising as the earth shifted around them. The weapons above her now possessed limited ammunition, no longer renewable. Dante had wanted them to be made before the Domain collapsed, and this was perfect. She would have to waste some energy to change the weapons into another form. It might not have been much, but every little drop counted when one had no liquid to quench their thirst. Hana¡¯s disposition shifted instantly now that she stood between two enemies. On their own, they were no threat. She wouldn¡¯t have cared a minute ago, even if there were two. As she reached for more droplets, she noticed nothing to be within reach. All the Lightsea¡¯s droplets redirected to Astraeus, shifting the gears in her mind as realized she had been tricked. The Dirge wasn¡¯t weak like the rest of the Anathema here. He wasn¡¯t like Zed with incredible techniques, either. He also wasn¡¯t like Melody, whose Stigmata perfectly integrated with her fighting style, though his was formidable. Astraeus¡¯ danger came from his potential. A Dirge, less than a year old, possessing a Domain Collapse? She saw the way it focused his blurred eyes, dismissing the Inferose''s claim on his mind. Hana shivered, then she lifted her hands toward her chest. She aimed to create a triangle of sorts, ignoring Dante rushing toward her. She neglected Astraeus, too, knowing her Armory could defend her temporarily. Bullets let loose, hitting everything that came near, only... That included a small, unwieldy, metallic object. She sensed the danger an instant too late, and the bomb, handcrafted by Dante, detonated mere feet from her fate. The Dirge spiraled away, bouncing off the ground and landing on her stomach. Blood seeped below her, and the duo rushed after her. Dante shared a look with Astraeus, both already wounded and tired, but they understood what they had to do. She had to die fast. They couldn¡¯t play the long game. Otherwise, they may bleed out, and that wasn¡¯t to mention the new arrivals. Space cleaved toward Hana, yet she rolled out of the way just in the nick of time. Her Armory pointed toward the duo and fired, but a wall of snow formed, blocking much of the damage. Where Cryo held the greatest offense, Frigo boasted the densest defense. Nonetheless, Hana''s sheer power of Hydro still broke through. The slowed projectiles that pierced it, lacking much of their momentum, were dodged this time. Again, Hana reached for her chest, nearly placing her fingers together before another bomb hurtled toward her face. With a knowing glance, she deftly maneuvered out of harm¡¯s way. The bomb flew right past her, slamming into the ground. Then, a heat wave enveloped her from behind, sending Hana tumbling straight for Astraeus. Dante retrieved his final explosive while Astraeus slashed Hana through her midsection. As space fractured beyond his fingertips, the woman¡¯s chest became translucent. It became water. With a flicker of energy, she reformed on the other side of him, missing one arm. Instead, a cannon of that very same water floated where there was once her right hand. Her Stigmata! Dante saw her trick before the barrel shifted to face him. Hana could turn parts of herself into water. The human had only a fraction of a second to prepare himself before a charge detonated toward his body. Again, time felt sluggish as the round tore through the air. It was just plain water, but a mind had shaped it into a weapon of death. Of course, she would have an ace up her sleeve. Hana was called the strongest Anathema in the Wings. And what did Dante have to counter it? His augments screeched in horror as he flopped backward, tossing the bomb in between himself and the projectile. Dante didn¡¯t even have time to raise his arms in defense before the heat devoured him. Astraeus glanced at the cloud of black smoke before shifting his gaze back to the wounded Hana. She was missing an arm now, wasting the entire arm for one lethal attack. He rushed for Hana but halted as he felt another presence enter his Domain. It was a woman sopping with water. She tsked as she entered, shaking her head at Hana, ¡°Hana. Hana. Hana. How many times have we talked about this? You can¡¯t leave me out of all the fun!¡± A Miro. They would be the least affected by my Domain¡¯s effect. Astraeus made quick observations, raising his hands as he knew Dante was either dead or close to it. He would be alone for this. Hana growled out an offer through gritted teeth, standing wearily between the two, ¡°Melody, you help me; we fight for the Inferose at the end. After Balba or whoever else escaped.¡± A long grin shattered Astraeus¡¯ slim hope that Melody, the Humming Songbird, was here for the Inferose over anything else. She was here under the orders of no one but her own, simply to sow chaos. Melody hummed, just as her title spoke of, ¡°Oooh. That sounds like fun. I¡ª¡± ¡°Shut. Up.¡± But a voice cut through the settling smoke, and a man rose from the dirt. Blood covered the entirety of where the cloud spread, but the human that stretched to his full height was, again, uninjured. Through the smoke, Dante couldn¡¯t see anything. He could hardly hear a single word, but they all beat into his skull like an implanted bass drum. Through those noises, he heard a rushing pair of footsteps, that of a crazed man. Dante¡¯s mind was scarcely holding itself together due to the strain of several repeated uses of his Stigmata. The ability¡¯s might was undeniable, but it exacted a terrible toll. His thoughts were mere threads bound solely by the needles that ripped them apart. Still, he raised his shivering, trembling forefinger and pointed it toward Melody as he recognized those burly footsteps. He had spent a year listening to them cause a ruckus in the mess hall, after all. He ordered his oldest friend to kill the newest arrival with two short words, ¡°Rejo. Kill.¡± 47 - A Captain’s Vice Domains are simple. Mostly. Beyond the innate advantages it provides, the types are unique. Automatics assure a strike from one¡¯s Tide or Stigmata while Reactives protect and rejuvenate the bearer. Golden Domains amplify one¡¯s Tide explosively, while a Fused Domain combines the Tide and Stigmata into one force. Mystique Domains, however, are different. Their wills reflect the hearts of their creator. They are as fickle and complex as the movements of stars. Behind Melody stood an Araki, his mouth tendrils splayed outwards while his two hands sat in front of his chest. He had run past Sonna and Joan, leaving them behind as he felt Dante was in danger. Somehow, through the fog, he had a sense. A sense that proved right. Seers were not the only beings that could pierce the hidden. Children, animals, and¡­ the insane possessed such charms as well. It had been that way since the dawn of mankind, and nothing had changed since. The shifting trees still overwhelmed the man¡¯s vision. One even swung at him within his gaze, but Rejo cared not for anything but the voice in his head. He had been asked, ordered, begged, by his captain. The demand overpowered all else that could remain in his mind. One second, he saw Astraeus, Hana, Melody, and Dante alongside the endless horde. Then, he was beside only Dante, looking out onto a vast field. Grass, springy, and waist-height blew in the wind on the cool summer day. This scene lasted for only the time it took for Rejo¡¯s imagination to speak, ¡°Kill. Do what you do best, my friend. Kill.¡± Just as quickly as he arrived in that inner world, his fingers touched each other in front of his chest. They clasped lightly, tapping the tips of fingers against the wrist of the opposite hand. And then he spoke, once with his mouth and again with his soul. ¡°I got this. I¡¯m your Vice-Captain, after all.¡± ¡°Domain Collapse: Sailor¡¯s Idle Prayer.¡° A string of shocked faces shifted to the otherwise meaningless Araki. One moment, he didn¡¯t matter, just another body for Melody and Hana to remove. But as the Lightsea collapsed and rippled beneath his hands, they realized Rejo Avan Reiche Teiane Loupel, while boasting few talents, was exceptional with what little he had. His madness was laser-focused, concentrating every bit of himself into that which he saw as real. The edge of his Domain grew slowly, and it did so under the strain of Astraeus. The conflicting pressures made it even more difficult of a feat. Still, the Frigo swiftly pulled his back Domain Collapse, reducing its range at great difficulty. Instantly, Melody, the closest to the Araki, fell into its trap. And when she did, it ceased growing. The walls of the Domain became natural, a genuine barrier of space. It was both a sign of his naivete and his instincts. While this aspect strengthened his Domain, it also limited its size and hindered its movement. But Rejo knew none of this. He simply did as he was told by the ¡®Dante¡¯ in his head, following his gut along the way. He only had to deal with one. One betrayer. One enemy. That was all his captain needed. Inside his Domain, he met Melody¡¯s dumbfounded face with a reveling grin. Her eyes dropped to the center of the Domain Collapse, beyond confused, as she found a long table filled with varying pieces nearing the thousands. Though she wasn¡¯t confused for long. Rejo didn¡¯t know what was happening either, but a voice spoke within its bounds before he could move. It froze both combatants for the entirety of its words, leaving them unable to move, only listen. ¡°A game of Kregchei commences. The forces of Dante Penance against the universe. Should Dante win, a Prayer will be granted. Should Dante lose, a Penance will be paid.¡° Melody¡¯s eyes widened in horror as she realized not only was she within the bounds of a newfound Domain Collapse, but it was a Mystique one. These held great power but, more often than not, had some massive downside with their bizarre effects. Almost every creature with one of these rare Domains either became absurdly powerful or died early. Few wanted such unpredictable beings in the universe. The Anathema opened her lips to begin her Trifecta, yet the Araki was already rushing for her with his gun drawn. The radius of the Domain was hardly thirty feet, and the table took up much of that space in the center. Ticking game pieces shifted in the background as Rejo spoke to his prey that he had been ordered to slay, ¡°I don¡¯t know what is happening, but... this sounds fun. Kregchei was the only thing my people ever got right.¡± The board game behind him vanished in the wind while the first note rang into the air from Melody. Just as it hit him the first time weeks ago, the Araki buckled, his muscles giving out. Melody lurched forward, reaching out with a thin wire to slash open Rejo¡¯s throat, but the man had already vanished, replaced by a falling rock. Then, under the discombobulation of the first note, he raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. With the caliber of his firearm, gunpowder detonated into the confines of the Domain, filling the space with a cloud of light smoke. Though, that was not all, of course. Weighty lead split the air toward Melody¡¯s skull. She remained unscathed only by the grace of a second note from the woman¡¯s chords that diverted the steel. Rejo fell to his knees as the clacking of the Kregchei grew more animated, more chaotic. The Seafarer¡¯s gun rose again, his teeth gritted in determination. However, the motion was slow; it was aggrieved, brought down by the tremors in his skull and bones. The third note came before the barrel reached halfway from the ground to Melody¡¯s face. Blood spurted from his eyes and nose, trailing down in terrifying amounts. Still, the woman didn¡¯t say a word of detestation. With a quick kick behind her, she sent the dirt flying and lunged at the helpless Araki.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Her open fingers reached for his gun, taking it with one hand while the other grasped Rejo¡¯s heart through his chest. The bulging eyes of the Araki told a quiet story to Melody. It was a beginning. And it was an end. The body collapsed behind her, soon to die in the next few seconds as the blood failed to pump throughout his body. But just as Melody weighed the rifle in her hands, surprised by its power and ability to work under a Domain, a shiver entered her spine. A high-pitched ding resounded from the table behind her. In response, she swung the rifle backward like a club, hitting nothing and only hearing that disembodied voice once more. ¡°Victor: Dante Penance. Time: One Minute and eleven seconds. For the next two-hundred-and-twelve seconds, the Sailor¡¯s Idle Prayer shall be heeded. The Sailor shall be his King¡¯s Vessel.¡± With the simple yet incomprehensible words, the barrier around Melody receded, giving her a sliver of false hope. Then she heard the body behind her rise. After a panicked turn, she found the Araki with one hand twisted into a finger gun. Her mind raced with alarm, and she ducked to the side, evading the burst of water. But as she watched it soar behind her, it vanished, with Rejo appearing in its place. Melody pulled the rifle¡¯s trigger toward the man, blowing another hole in his chest, yet her vision splattered with blue. She tumbled head over heels, the burst of water from Rejo swapping with his location but keeping its momentum. Blood dribbled from her head, and even as she looked up, expecting the Araki to be dead, she found him unharmed. Just like the human. Melody¡¯s gaze skipped to Astraeus and Dante, who cornered Hana. The woman wasn¡¯t yet set in her grave, but things weren¡¯t looking good. Still, Melody knew what their only chance was. It was no longer possible to scramble numbers before entering. They had to retreat or plunge. Rejo noticed the Anathema¡¯s desire to run and sprinted after her, rushing with the inhuman speed that Dante possessed. Unfortunately for him, Melody was a Miro specializing in physical enhancement. The two rushed back into Astraeus¡¯ Domain now that Rejo''s had fallen, where a burst of water crossed, striking Melody in the shoulder as she tried to dodge. Then, a rock soared past her head. Her eyes followed it, and she aimed the rifle at it, just waiting to fire. Only Rejo didn¡¯t teleport. He simply leaped into the air and drop-kicked Melody in the back. Before he struck the ground, he activated his Mojo. The woman stumbled forward, falling straight to the ground. As Rejo twisted in the air, he drew another weapon, a revolver, and shot the woman six times with his precision long trained by a human''s annoyance at the shortcoming while she darted toward Hana on all fours. The Araki kicked the ground to follow, only for his lower half to evaporate, a standing, armless Hana being the reason. The Anathema grinned, happy to remove one nuisance. Then Rejo¡¯s legs returned. Dante¡¯s Stigmata appeared on another being¡¯s figure, and all of Rejo¡¯s injuries vanished. He still had work to do for his captain. So while Hana dodged Astraeus¡¯ space slash and shots from the near-immobile Dante, the first-mate kneeled and picked up another rock, tagging it with his Stigmata. Blood dripped from his nose, tangling with his mouth tendrils. The use of the Lightsea eroded his spirit in little time at all. Still, the madness glimmered through, sparking a thread of fear within the two women. Hana and Melody reunited, falling back to back while Rejo and Astraeus stood on opposite sides. Dante limped toward them, just barely keeping up from his exertion. Both sides took a moment to breathe, all demonstrably worse for wear. Hana whispered to her temporary partner, ¡°We need to get out. They¡¯ve wasted their Domains. Recover and attack again. I just need water to heal. After, my Domain finishes it all.¡± ¡°Yeah, but how? The schizophrenic can teleport. And Astraeus isn¡¯t slow, either. You¡¯re out of attacks without sacrificing mobility. I can use my Trifecta for distance, but two can heal. Who knows how long until another wakes up,¡± Melody uttered with a heaving chest. Geist¡¯s ace sighed, pulling out an object from her pocket with the remnants of her Hydro. It was a shrunken, malnourished ghost made of devouring mist. Then, she crushed it. The instant the creation of the Anacrux shattered, an otherworldly howl filled the plain at large. Beneath the howl, Hana clenched her jaw, ¡°I hid the ghost from him. Now he¡¯s rushing here at any cost.¡± Geist was a little different from the other Caesars. He had mastered his Arido to the point wherein he could conjure miniature ghosts to perform his bidding. Under the enhancement of a Golden Domain, even if only for a moment, he created far more formidable wraiths. These individual ghosts of devouring mist could be tossed inside the dimension, allowing him to battle for the Inferose alongside Hana, as was the original plan. Nevertheless, he had to know its location, and he couldn¡¯t search with the other Caesars on his ass and Praetor Sun. Hana didn¡¯t want to reveal it to him for her own greed, but she knew when to call it quits. With every breath, Dante teetered on the edge of collapse, yet he still pulled the trigger, signaling that the fight would continue. Astraeus took a step to follow them, but his leg twisted, nearly giving out. He stumbled while Rejo rushed after the duo. Astraeus had been shot a few minutes ago by Dante and took several injuries from Hana. He was not in any condition to be running at his maximum speed. All he could do was fling his Frigo out to slow the escapees while Rejo sailed after them. They were too far for his Stigmata to do any real damage. Without Dante¡¯s Tide because of Astraeus¡¯ Domain, though, the Araki could only rely on his Mojo. After hurling another stone, the rock soared back at the two women, but Melody already knew what was happening. Her voice echoed into the air, bursting the rock into tiny bits and the follow-up bullet into shrapnel. All three men collapsed to the ground, and the Anathemas emerged from the edge of the Domain. Both breathed huge tufts of air, rushing toward the entrance of the Inferose. Another note sang, stopping Rejo¡¯s last bullet as the man ceased his struggle. Hana and Melody were gone a moment later, leaping into the crack between dimensions. Dante cursed, spitting out the blood that flowed down his nose. Then, he rolled onto his back, proud to be alive. ¡°We did it. Good shit, Rejo. You too, Astraeus. Good shit. I... need to sleep. I think,¡± Dante spoke, groaning in pain the whole while as his brain jostled. However, Astraeus refuted him, ¡°No. You can¡¯t. Your crew. They are behind us. You need them, right?¡± The human¡¯s eyes opened wide in remembrance of Lucius, Joan, and Sonna. It was almost as if he had fully broken free from the Inferose. He felt some sort of tug on his body, but it quickly stopped. When he glanced around, however, Astraeus and Rejo were both gone. Utterly gone, whisked away into nothingness. Dante¡¯s heart stopped in his chest, but he forced his traumatized mind to think. With creaking teeth, he sat up, slowly clawing to his feet. Both gone. Out of nowhere. Lucius is the same. Claudius, too. Though, I didn¡¯t see them at all. A bit of a jump, to be honest. But the dimension... Hana mentioned proving ourselves, right? Maybe that¡¯s part of it. What about me, though? Pain-induced tears dripped from Dante¡¯s eyes as he wobbled over to Sonna and Joan, the latter clad in a new armor that the human hadn¡¯t seen yet. It took him several seconds, but he eventually reached the two of them. They were fighting imaginary enemies to his eyes, much like the newest several Dirge that had arrived. Dante even spotted Saerer, who was not far away. With a sigh, he placed his hands on the women¡¯s shoulders and jostled them with what little strength he still held. Both vibrated in shock, turning to face him in astonishment. ¡°Dante!?¡± both shrieked simultaneously, though one was more horror and the other was a pleasant surprise. The human let out a pained smile, pointing toward the distant rift. He could have done this earlier, but without seeing through the trees, both would be useless in a fight. At least Rejo and Astraeus seemed to break through it with their Domain Collapse, something that Dante was still reeling over. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s me. Please, just trust me. All the trees are illusions. Walk past them. You¡¯re only tiring yourselves out. It¡¯s safe all the way there. I have one more person to grab. If you know where Claudius or Lucius went, please tell them, too,¡± Dante asked the two with a kind temper before limping past them, hardly able to walk. However, Joan slid a needle into his back mid-step and nodded, ¡°Okay. Will do. Here¡¯s a pick-me-up. Remember, you still have two of my Hemomarats. Don¡¯t die with them. They¡¯re expensive. As for them¡­ I don¡¯t know. I thought they were here.¡± Dante¡¯s whole body lurched as adrenaline shot into his system. His every cell thrummed with delight, and he disregarded Sonna¡¯s panic while he hauled the Weren through the horde. She resisted the movement, and even Joan did to a degree, their instincts warring with every step. The human didn¡¯t wish for Claudius¡¯ death, but with the man¡¯s disappearance alongside Lucius, he could only shake his head. The Judge had his own secrets, and Dante could only hope that they were indeed pulled into the Inferose. He had no time to boast concerns at this moment. Hana had notified Geist of their location. With the little time he had, Dante would focus on the person he left behind. Saerer. She wasn¡¯t part of his crew, but that promise held on, regardless. He wouldn¡¯t settle for anything other than perfection from himself and the jobs he took. Not anymore, at least. As such, he went after the last person he needed to help enter the Inferose, but the Geist¡¯s damned army turned up on the boundary of the plains. Dante paused, his foot still hovering over the grass. An agent of chaos slithered into his ear at the perfect time, ¡°You don¡¯t know her. Just turn around. Anathemas are rushing toward that entrance. They¡¯ve made progress during your fight. If you¡¯re any slower... you¡¯ll have to fight again. And you can¡¯t do that.¡± Dante¡¯s pride battled with his own sense of self-preservation and his logic. Despite the ego¡¯s recent victory, he knew he was pushing his luck. His gaze met Saerer¡¯s through the walking trees in her sight. She was pleading, begging even. Just as any other, she wished to live. Dante fought to walk forward, yet his legs shifted in the other direction. Something had taken control of Dante¡¯s movement, leaving Saerer to drown in the tsunami, as the rift in space beckoned him onward. As the human turned around, a lone tear fell from the Dirge¡¯s face, drifting to the floor without any eyes to witness her rejection. 48 - Midnight’s Anchor A soft finger nestled into the crease of a soldier¡¯s eye, waking him from his slumber as it gingerly pulled away. The man blinked, confused and drowsy, but heard the most beautiful voice in all the worlds, calming his frantic heart, ¡°Why are you crying, Bear?¡± His head whipped around, finding his wife with furrowed, concerned brows. Lilith¡¯s face stopped his heart for a reason he didn¡¯t understand. He just stared at her, speechless. Soft light streamed through the blinds, illuminating her face for him on this lovely morning. The seconds ticked by, and her worry grew, infecting the man with the same unease. They were of one heart. Of one soul. Two halves intertwined. Suddenly, Lucius felt a liquid drip onto his cheek from his right eye. He lifted his hands, expecting to feel the tears of joy slipping down. With a sudden glance, he saw sky-blue blood instead of tears. Before he could shift his gaze, screams filled the house, dousing his world in an impenetrable crimson. Miles across from the contest for the Inferose, six figures found themselves atop a ruined forest, the trees splintered by blood and the grass burnt by dawn. Two women were the centermost figures, one enveloped by a bloody curtain and the other hidden by the blinding radiance that originated from her eyes. Suaze and Geist crept along the edge of the debris, waiting for their moment to strike. Behind them stood two who carried the utmost caution. Balba¡¯s dripping acid hid beneath a tree¡¯s carcass while Wain stood on a lion of ice. The lion¡¯s mouth dripped scarlet, but not the tint of Thanaris¡¯ Tide. It held that of the Praetor¡¯s innards. Five Caesars surrounded Praetor Sun, powerhouses by every standard. And yet, she was fearless. Water surged behind her, matching Thanaris¡¯ momentum and volume. However, the light that bloomed from her Stigmata bounced and reflected off the water, magnified to an extreme. The Praetor had developed a way to harness an otherwise impossible element. Light. And that is why the Caesars were so careful, for Praetor Sun¡¯s attacks were impossible to dodge. They could only be endured if one was capable. Still one of the most significant contributors to the battle, Geist had already sent away his misty phantoms, providing the Praetor some relief. The selfish Caesar brought her time to speak, something she had not done since she fell from the sky. Stoic and without a hint of joy, Sun pointed upward with her forefinger, ¡°You all... How about we even these numbers a tad? A one on five is so... boring.¡± ¡°Balba! Strike the incoming! Suaze! Burn the atmosphere!¡± Thanaris ordered her equals as pods dropped from the orange and purple heavens, sent by the Nova. Neither heeded her directions the moment they hit the air, however. The two only moved once the dozen crashing pods were visible above. Balba kicked into the air, striking out again for more lift with his sheer strength and the moisture departing him. Suaze¡¯s Tide filled the atmosphere as he soared for a target, igniting it with a terrible heat. Praetor Sun bore no singular emotion as she lifted her right hand and spoke with the same calmness, ¡°Rasa. Focus Wain.¡± The first Centurion appeared through the steam above. While lit aflame and with burning steel armor, he slammed into the earth, feet away from his prey. Wain turned toward Rasa as the man drew a thin sword from his belt, the blade bending much like his Praetor¡¯s Stigmata. Rasa¡¯s muscles rippled beyond his skin¡¯s limit, his Stigmata flooding his innards with raging currents, and he stabbed the rapier forward. Driven by hydraulic pressure, he surged forward, encountering Wain¡¯s icy wall. However, he had company. Three more Centurions, ignoring their armor that melted into their flesh, followed their Praetor¡¯s orders. They ambushed Wain with everything they had, surrounding her with Hydro, Frigo, and Cryo. However, the other Caesars were not idle, and neither was the Praetor. Thanaris lunged toward Sun. A tsunami of blood sought the woman¡¯s life as steaming crimson provided it an even greater momentum. Geist sent forward his devouring haze toward the Praetor¡¯s back, too. And yet, as the world practically collapsed around the Praetor, her eyes were obscured from all. None could see her face but herself, and those hidden lips spoke once more with a reverberating profoundness. As the sound left her shadowless maw, two index fingers and thumbs pressed against each other. ¡°Incomplete Domain Technique: Forming Sun.¡±
Malnourished hands tapped a keypad strenuously as their owner¡¯s eyes stared, stunned at the telescope¡¯s display. Archimedes had seen nothing of the battle at the Inferose¡¯s entrance but could see the Caesars and the Praetor. It was five against one, and still, she had not fallen. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. The rumors and bits that Isaac had seen on the web sang infinite praises of Elize Sunwin, hailed as the second coming of the late Legate Radian. Taught by the Drowned Dragon himself in her youth, Praetor Sun held countless techniques and had learned much from her mentor¡¯s failures. No matter how much he had read, none of it could compare to what he saw. The conflict between the pillars of their respective factions shook him to his core. Every move possessed the strength to shatter cities, rupture islands, and pull starships from orbit. More surprisingly, she had left her Centurions in orbit within pods, waiting for the right moment. So, he hurried, orbiting his ruined ship toward Claudius, as ordered. Second by second, while death encompassed the planet below, Archimedes grew closer and closer to the Heron¡¯s Wing. Once within range, he set the machines to work in tandem, stretching out the space corridor for him to travel between. The young man, barely more than a boy, took one final glance at his ship, which he had repaired from broken scrap into a vessel capable of Lightsea-travel, though only once. After the parting image, he walked toward the passageway before halting. A chill raced up his spine as the lights in his home flickered. His heart pumped erratically once as the boy knew that the light systems were without error. In his stillness, the utter quiet of the ship sang to him. Meanwhile, the distant monitor spoke despite possessing no speakers for sound to evoke as Sun¡¯s words broke through the vacuum. ¡°Incomplete Domain Technique: Forming Sun.¡± The shadows lengthened within the ship as all the lights immediately exploded from the erupting force from the planet¡¯s surface. As darkness enveloped the vessel, a brilliant light birthed from the windows, almost blinding Archimedes. While a Domain Collapse was not permitted without damaging the dimensional rift, Praetor Sun had found a way around it like Geist, using her repertoire of knowledge on the Lightsea and ways to manipulate it. By extending the collapse of the Lightsea infinitely and progressively slowing it down, she could benefit from much of a Domain¡¯s bonuses without it ever touching down all the way. However, API did not have a single second to ponder what the Praetor had done, for the Lightsea had spread onto his ship. The boy fell into a scrambling sprint as clawing echoes resounded through the corridors of his vessel. While the Domain was incomplete at its center, the furthermost edges had reached a genuine touchdown. Fear raced through his veins until his face slammed into the closed air-seal of the passage. His eyes bulged, remembering the default for the passage, as he rebounded with pulsing agony. If power was lost, the doors would close automatically with pneumatic pressure. I¡¯m... trapped. The power was out in this old-fashioned and hardly working starship. Nevertheless, Archimedes could see the Heron¡¯s Wing illuminated by lightbulbs through the corridor¡¯s windows. His shoulders sagged as the boy realized that his attempts to reinforce the circuits had failed. One tiny pulse of the Lightsea had broken his ship, whereas the Heron¡¯s Wing was still functioning. Yet the frantic scratching yanked his mind from such future practice. The depressed muscles tightened into nervous terror, and Isaac¡¯s eyes glanced all over, unable to move. Each sound sent a jolt of panic through his body, making his pulse race faster than his thoughts could follow. He didn¡¯t know what manner of Dirge had spawned. All he knew was that it would kill him if it saw him. Still, while his mind howled in panic, his legs wouldn¡¯t obey. Every nerve in his body felt paralyzed, and the rational part of his brain¡ªthe one that always calculated, always found solutions¡ªwas screaming for control. But fear had taken the reins. For the first time since he had taken Dante¡¯s offer, he felt... completely... utterly... helpless. He was back to how he used to be. The scratching grew louder. They were closer. Archimedes¡¯ thoughts flickered back to the Heron¡¯s Wing, just visible through the corridor window. It was right there. Functional. Powered. Safe. If he could just get to the other side, he could survive this. Still, his ship was dead, and with the seal locked, there was no way to cross over. Lucius could pry the door open. Rejo could shoot it. Joan could use her acid to melt through the glass. Even Sonna could get through, cooling down the glass with her Arido before striking it. But Pythagoras? He had no such skills or weapons. Of course, he didn¡¯t. He was a boy who couldn¡¯t hold over ten pounds at a time. His vision was subpar, while his instinct in a battle was to freeze, so why would he have a gun? They thought he would be safe here. Isaac believed he would be safe here. His fingers twitched, brushing against the cold steel wall, seeking some sort of comfort. There has to be a solution. Monsters + No Power = ... He refused to accept that this was how it ended. The mathematical portion of his brain told him there was always something after the equals sign. He wouldn¡¯t let the monsters take him¡ªnot without trying everything. Archimedes forced his body into motion, acting like one of his idols, Lucius. The boy moved despite his fear. No, he ran in spite of his fear, stumbling away from the door and darting down the narrow corridor. His mind whirred as he scanned the walls for a hiding place. He knew every inch of this ship by heart, from the malfunctioning circuits to the ductwork that barely held together. There had to be something he could use. There had to be a solution. A thud sounded from the corridor behind him, near the entrance. Heavy. Solid. Archimedes winced, resisting the urge to look back. He didn¡¯t need to see it. He could feel it. An Anaphage, maybe more, had made its way into the ship. His breath caught in his throat, but Isaac¡¯s legs moved faster, the need to survive overriding the weight of fear pulling him down. For a moment, he had become the Martian he so admired. Archimedes¡¯ muscles progressed with a power they shouldn¡¯t have, a speed the malnourished flesh had no right to occupy. The boy from an unknown race or planet darted toward the open power rack nestled against the far wall, barely large enough for his already frail frame. Pale hands trembled as they yanked open the metal door, the tangled mess of cords and circuitry waiting inside like a tiny tomb. The rack had been left open since yesterday for repairs, as had most of the power systems on the ship. Without a second thought, Archimedes crawled inside, pulling the door shut behind him. It reminded him of Lucius hiding him beneath a table in their prison to protect him from the imminent brawl. A series of shivers ran through the boy¡¯s whole body, and he felt the tremors in his bones from the adrenaline forcing him beyond his limits. The faintest slits of light filtered through the vents, and through them, Pythagoras could see the corridor outside, which made it only harder to calm. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he pressed himself against the powerless cords, trying to make himself as small as possible. He felt like a rat, now trapped in a cage of his own design. Then, the noises grew louder, reverberating within the prison. He could hear the creatures directly, their movements more audible as they prowled through the halls, searching. They were hunting him. The boy¡¯s heart pounded painfully against his fragile ribs, his mind racing with fragmented thoughts. Every calculation he tried to make crumbled under the weight of terror. He knew these things. ¡°Dirge,¡± Issac whispered to himself to aid his focus. He had seen Lucius kill many of these creatures. He had seen Sonna, Joan, and Rejo gun down dozens since he had met them. But... he had never killed one. Not even close. Now, he was all alone. Archimedes squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe, to focus. Still, it failed. Then, a memory resurfaced as his mind spiraled with the endless ways he¡¯d be ripped apart, unable to achieve his dreams. Several years ago, when Arch was smaller yet nearly as intelligent but far more easily manipulated, Dante and he worked together for the first time. As usual, nothing went as planned; both were trapped in the Medrack with encroaching pirates. The door wouldn¡¯t hold them for long after the rest of the crew had been killed, the robbery of robbers going utterly sideways. Archimedes bundled himself together in the room¡¯s corner, hugging his knees. Oppositely, the human stood, his eyes searching desperately despite the surefire death. Dante glanced down, noticing the boy¡¯s trepidation. A long sigh came from the man as he empathized with Archimedes, ¡°I was once like you. Scared to even leave my room. But... you have, too, Arch. I¡¯ll get you out of here. Get us paid, too, don¡¯t you worry. Let me see here...¡± The tired human, bleeding from the bullet he earned retreating here, turned to the med-rack, tossing aside pill bottle after serum until he found what he was looking for. There were four shots of pure adrenaline. With one hand, he scrambled the shots together while stapling the cylindrical hole in his gut. Arch¡¯s uneasy voice echoed in the tiny room, ¡°Won¡¯t¡ªwon¡¯t you die? Th¡ªth¡ªthat much will...¡± Dante¡¯s eyes met Archimedes¡¯ gaze, and he spoke with a confidence that the boy could never forget, ¡°Perhaps. But is it not better to go out in an inferno than as a shriveled worm? Besides... who says I will die? I¡¯m not so easy to kill, y¡¯know? I say... I say I¡¯ll live. That¡¯s good enough for me.¡± The pride the human held was something Archimedes¡¯ insecurity could never reach, especially not as plasma and lead slammed into the reinforced door of the med-bay. Archimedes¡¯ flawless memory ripped his mind back to the cords overlapping his flesh and the skittering monsters outside. His lips opened a quarter of an inch, enough for a phantom of a whisper, ¡°I¡¯ll live. I say... I¡¯ll live.¡± As the words left his mouth, his eyes glowed brilliantly amidst the dark, and a heat formed in his brain. The words gave him power, piercing through his lack of self-confidence while the heat burned brighter. His hands reached into his pocket, and he retrieved the Immortal Corpse that Lucius had gifted him. It was not something Isaac would have ever considered using without a safety net. Archimedes wasn¡¯t akin to a risk-taker. He was the opposite, in fact. He survived on certainties, absolutes, and facts. But... The boy¡¯s scrawny fingers fell onto the clasp of the spherical box, and for the first time in his life, the orphan decided his own fate. Live or die, he would be the one to decide. Not anyone else. Never again. Such was his solemn, silent oath. 49 - Foglit Shadows Names hold meaning. They hold power. Legends sweep the minds of the young, and titles conjure strength. With enough profound awe, such power can be wielded beyond the bearer¡¯s definitive might. Building reputation is as equally important as personal strength or intellect. To all the young who read this, treat your name more carefully than your life. Some creatures feed on such things. The Eventide Seraphim, The Shattered Mountain, or as I know him, Vicar, rarely uses the weight of his name. As such, it moves mountains, upends seas, and transcends stars. None wish to anger he who peers alone into the night sky. As for me¡­ well¡­ I can¡¯t quite compare to that old man. I¡¯m just a monster who is all grown up. A young man stood before the gateway to the Inferose as the last to enter its clutches. It was a shattered fixture in reality, something one could simply step through, though the world on the other side lived obscured from his gaze. He stared at it with poorly concealed interest while another limped toward him. The limping figure¡¯s mind had already forgotten who he left behind. Eight glanced over at the approaching human. With a scoff, he nodded to the man¡¯s injuries, ¡°They did quite a number on you, huh? No Rewind this time?¡± Dante returned the derision with some of his own, ¡°What about you? Why didn¡¯t you fight? Were you truly under the Inferose¡¯s illusions? Are you?¡± The two shared a gaze mere feet away from the gateway. Eight grinned softly, a devious smile that couldn¡¯t remain hidden in any realm. The Anomaly admitted his deceit candidly, ¡°Yeah. Why would I join such a foolish fight? You aren¡¯t my friend. Just a tool. The damn dimension pulled Claudius in. I felt the movement and was busy trying to replicate it. Why waste my energy fighting that Dirge?¡± Eight spoke as if he had calculated the entire battle that would come about. He was one of three Seafarers who could see through the illusions without issue, without an ounce of strain. Even the young man wasn¡¯t privy to why, but he wasn¡¯t one to complain about his boons. Dante glared at the Cryo, both standing before the gateway. It was almost as if Eight had waited for Dante. Or was it something more sinister? The human wasn¡¯t sure. All he knew was that Eight was beyond arrogant. He had the power to back up the confidence, but he wasn¡¯t the strongest on the planet. Not even close. ¡°That¡¯s fair, I suppose. Claudius seems quite skilled. Too good to be your Judge,¡± Dante declared to the Anomaly. Without hesitation, Eight agreed, ¡°Yup. A good man, that¡¯s for damn sure. Better than both of us,¡± the Anomaly looked at Dante with a hidden meaning. Then, he added, ¡°But that¡¯s why I joined him. Every light has its shadow. The Judge needs someone to do his dirty work.¡± Dante retreated slightly, feeling a cold vibration originate from the Cryo. Even now, the kid was lying. By lifting his palm, the human immediately prepared for a battle, saying, ¡°And what¡¯s that dirty work?¡± Eight¡¯s lips stretched wide, far more expansive than any creature should. He bent low, the droplets within his body beginning to rage. The Anomaly was honest in his words, ¡°To kill that which would doom him. You, Dante Penance. I wasn¡¯t sure until now. You... You have potential just as anomalous as me.¡± A lifted eyebrow met the false accusation, but before either could strike, the earth shook, reminding both where they were. Second by second, the ghosts of Geist neared them, only seconds away. They flew over the plains without noise, phasing straight through the illusions that once held back Dante¡¯s crew. The wraiths were not all there was, however. In the distance, a colossal battle raged, bringing both to shivering footing. Even the air rebounded, swirling their hair and the surrounding dirt, making it hard to see. Beyond the weather phenomena, however, Dante heard a distant groan of pain, that of a woman. Instantly, his mood soured. Only three women on the planet could be heard from so far. One was Thanaris, another was Wain, and the last was Praetor Sun herself. The only one he would like to get hurt was Wain, for Elize Sunwin was at least somewhat likely to not kill him while Thanaris was on his side. A one-in-three. And based on Wain¡¯s cowardice... Dante did not believe it to be her. Beyond his faraway worries, more creatures loomed only moments away than the misty figures. The remaining Anathemas prowled the edges, still locked into the illusions, but they were nearing. However, there were more than just two groups. Dante heard the crackle of a gun and instinctively twisted away from his woes, only to see a burst of blood emerge from the teenager across from him. Eight somersaulted backward, bouncing again and again before reclaiming his momentum, and landed on all fours with his briefcase in hand. Blood dripped from the man¡¯s throat as his innards, from the bottom of his chin to the top of his ribs, revealed themselves to the open air with a scarlet bouquet. Dante gasped as he saw sparking electricity erupt from where Eight¡¯s carotid should be. Close-knit wires, interwoven with flesh and veins, interlaced the inside of Eight¡¯s body. Until now, the Cryo had only taken superficial injuries, never bleeding much more than an ounce. Yet now, the young man shifted his gaze toward his own throat. Blood spurted from the fatal wound along with bolts of blue electricity, and, raising his hand to the spot, he stared incredulously at his own body. None could believe what he was, less so himself. The eyes beholding their own flesh unfocused as if staring thousands of miles into the horizon, even as footsteps approached. Dante turned, finding a hooded and cloaked figure staring at him. Instantly, his nerves and instincts shot up in alarm. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! A calm and composed voice echoed along the field while Eight¡¯s lungs exhaled and inhaled rapidly without breathing, ¡°It seems we finally meet, Dante Penance.¡± Dante¡¯s hands tremored as he forced his Tide into action, summoning water around his body. It flowed, only nowhere near as swiftly as before. Every muscle in his body ached and begged for rest. Multiple uses of his Stigmata had left his body barren, while the extensive manipulation of Hydro left his mind powerless. The human knew well that his only option here was to run. He had to escape into the Inferose. Yet he wasn¡¯t sure if he could in time. The cloaked figure revealed a long shotgun with four concentric barrels beneath his camouflaged poncho while the other hand unsheathed a cleaver from his belt. Dante glanced at his own pistols, unloaded from the previous battle. He was out of ammo. Who would have thought Hana was so enduring? Dante could only bring so much with him. And behind him, Anomaly 888 shivered at his own condition. Dante glanced toward Eight, commenting on his condition, hoping for some more time as he inched toward the rift, ¡°Yeah. Did you know he was like that? A Breathing-Metal? And you... who are you?¡± The hooded figure kept his face hidden but spoke while leveling his shotgun at Dante, ¡°I am the one who orchestrated the events before your rise. You may call me... hmm... It is Friday, no? You can call me Friday, then. It is the last one you¡¯ll ever see.¡± Dante¡¯s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, unable to believe the information. As Friday squeezed the trigger to his weapon, Dante backstepped. Yet flesh remained slower than steel. Supersonic pellets entered the air, but a body slammed into Dante, preventing his death. Before the human knew it, space distorted, and he was within the Lightsea for a split second. A moment later, however, he fell to the ground on the opposite side of the Inferose with Eight beside him. Dante furrowed his brows while the boy spoke through gushing blood, ¡°Fuck... The damn rift is messing with my Stigma. Help me get us to the crack! We can fight later!¡± Dante scoffed, hating how wishy-washy Eight was, but he didn¡¯t groan or refuse. Hesitation meant death with the enemy before them. While lifting the youth¡¯s body with a heave of effort, the human threw the mangled Anomaly onto his back. The two faced Friday, a complete unknown, as one unit in the time it took for only one drop of the sand from an hourglass to fall. Eight whispered again into Dante¡¯s ear with an order, ¡°Whether we live or die is up to you, human. Don¡¯t fuck this up.¡± Again, Dante exhaled with humor, only to be forced into a sprint while Friday lunged toward him, rushing around the rift to aim his shotgun. Dante and Friday raced against each other, but Dante was unfortunately too slow. He might have kept up at his peak, but with his fatigue, he could not. Another bullet resounded, and Eight clenched his eyes, brute-forcing a teleport, only to fail with a backlash that left his right eye bleeding in a torrent. He was losing too much blood and was far too close to another dimension to assert his dominion over space. Without his aid, Dante fell to the ground as his waters failed to halt the lead, and his right knee shredded. The augments within kept it together, but just barely. Worst yet, inky black lingered around where the pellets landed. Friday approached with a snap of his fingers, ¡°And that is how you use a Tide, boy.¡± Immediately, the pitch-black substance detonated like an explosive, blowing Dante¡¯s leg right off. The human howled in pain, flooding blood over the now-crimson grasses. Eight leaped from his cover and crawled toward the Inferose, abandoning Dante without reluctance. He made it a single step before the shotgun twisted toward him. However, Dante¡¯s fate with a deceased Eight was clear. So, through the haze, he contorted his forefinger and middle finger together. Despite the agony that racked his body, he ignored the bloodshed and forced the Lightsea to obey. And just this once, Dante saw a phantasmal hand wrap around his, identical in every way yet possessing a foreboding warning, ¡°Get to that damned rift, human.¡± A compressed spout of Hydro emerged from Dante¡¯s fingers, plowing right into Friday¡¯s shotgun. As a hole ripped through the weapon¡¯s handle, it fled his grasp. Surprisingly, the gun remained intact as it slammed into the ground tens of feet away. Dante, however, understood as he saw a beating heart within the weapon¡¯s innards, gradually repairing the damage. It was like Claudius¡¯ Executioner. The realization only solidified his decision even while worry budded regarding Judas within his mind. Dante wasn¡¯t sure if the show of power was from him alone or if Judas had truly aided him. The being loved to mess with his mind, and it was worsening. Nonetheless, Dante bought Eight the time to scramble toward the portal. Friday sneered, waving his hand toward the young man as needles of blackened pitch flew from his hand. Before it could reach the Breathing-Metal, a flurry of icy knives met them. An explosive ring of steam shot out from the collision, and Dante coughed, feeling blood rise into his mouth from his burnt lungs. Despite his wounds, however, he crawled as swiftly as he could with the smoke to obscure him. Inch by inch, he felt as though he was approaching the Inferose¡¯s entrance. He even sensed some kind of force pull him closer, only to sputter and fail part of the way through its first tug. Unfortunately, the steam did not last for long. When it dispersed, Dante found Friday holding Anomaly 888 by the throat in the air. The young man kicked and fought with all his might, conjuring icy knives to stab into the hooded figure. None of the daggers pierced flesh from Friday¡¯s rough poncho and Eight¡¯s lack of force. Missing half his neck and liters of blood had weakened him significantly. ¡°You were tricky, Anomaly 888. Thankfully, I had your report. Otherwise... I would have simply shot at you with my Tide on my bullets. But you¡¯d have sensed that a mile away. Swathes of potential, but few geniuses ever see their peaks. Not everyone is Vicar or Yarnen,¡± Friday spoke softly as he reached his other hand forward, his weapons already vanished into his clothes. His fingers delved into Eight¡¯s insides through his opened chasm of a throat. Meanwhile, the boy screamed into the skies, curling his hands and toes from the torture. His legs kicked with panic while his arms tugged at the hand inside him. While the two stared at each other, a group of wraiths leaped past them, plunging into the boundary of the Inferose. Like entering an illusory film, they vanished five feet from the tear in space without a trace. Friday didn¡¯t seem affected by the boy¡¯s panic or the wraiths, instead casually speaking through the torment as if deep in thought, ¡°Hmm... He appears to be a true Breathing-Metal, not just a twisted Tekpriest-Cellsong monster. And one with a genuine soul. But... how? The experiments all failed centuries ago. Even the humans couldn¡¯t perfect it.¡± To Dante¡¯s dismay, another voice resounded from a device on Friday¡¯s hip. It was cruel, methodical, and demanding as it interrogated the boy, ¡°Where are you from, Anomaly 888? Who made you?¡° The three final syllables left the communicator with a wealth of power as if reality itself demanded an answer. This was the unknown voice¡¯s Stigmata. Dante felt called to answer without being the subject of the consciousness. Eight¡¯s struggling ceased while blood continued to drip from his dangling feet. His eyes stretched down toward Friday, glaring at the man with thousands of miles of hate. The Cryo spoke through the stranglehold, sputtering with each word, ¡°Go... Fuck... Yourself...¡± A sharp laugh came through the communicator as it seemed to crackle, ¡°Haha! Geas doesn¡¯t work on machines... very well. Kill him. The Inferose is the goal, anyway. I¡¯ll be done with Elize and the rest shortly.¡± Friday twisted his wrist, and Dante overlooked as Eight¡¯s neck cracked, the remnants of it contorting until his spine jutted out from the back to the open air of his collar. Immediately, Eight¡¯s attitude and arrogance vanished, leaving only an unfeeling corpse. That half-metal carcass struck the dirt a moment later, joining the scarlet that had stained it. Dante was stunned. In such a short time, Anomaly 888 was dead. The human¡¯s eyes froze on the boy¡¯s unmoving pupils. But as he stared for a few seconds, he noticed an oddity. Eight¡¯s irises were rolling. After a brief squint, Dante witnessed something unbelievable. Eight was spelling out something with his eyes, writing quickly with their movements. They said, ¡°Run.¡± The fellow wasn¡¯t lifeless yet, but he was close to it. His strange constitution must have kept him alive. Dante wanted to heed his decree, but he couldn¡¯t. Friday was too strong. Even if he weren¡¯t fatigued, Dante would likely face death at Friday¡¯s hands. So, the man could only talk his way out, ¡°What are you doing? Can I join? Surely you¡¯d want a human among you?¡± Desperately, Dante pleaded, all the while crawling toward the rift. Friday saw this. He didn¡¯t care. His shotgun raised again with a few choice words, ¡°No. We don¡¯t need you.¡± Yet before his gun could pull the trigger, a body slammed into him while steam wafted off the figure. Dante¡¯s eyes gaped in astonishment as he saw Saerer, the Anathema he had left behind, shout for him with mangled words, ¡°Goh! Ante!¡± The Anathema had done the unthinkable, bringing Dante¡¯s memory back. He had walked away from her against his will. Why? How? How did that happen? Dante¡¯s mind roiled with fury toward Judas, but he couldn¡¯t shift his attention toward the laughing figure. Saerer had sprinted through the danger, utterly ignoring the damage the illusions would do to her and her mind. It was as if... She was prepared to die. But why? Why would she give her life for him? In her eyes, he must have left her to die. More gouts of heated steam left her form, filling the air as she howled in anguish, a gunshot resounding. Then, a secondary explosion followed. Dante had little time. So, he picked himself up with what he could and hobbled with all the speed a cripple could muster. Seconds later, he reached the boundary of the rift, passing right by Eight. He considered dragging the Cryo with him, but he knew he couldn¡¯t. He was too heavy. Dante had to leave him. So he did. The boy wasn¡¯t part of his crew. Dante stretched out his arm toward the Inferose¡¯s entrance as he shambled. Meanwhile, Friday kicked Saerer¡¯s teeth in, knocking her unconscious with the heated, steamy blood of a Dirge hemorrhaging out of her. Dante stood within the five-foot range of the rift, where Geist¡¯s phantoms had vanished, but he didn¡¯t disappear. Something kept him from stepping through. It was some sort of film, like a barrier over his flesh. He couldn¡¯t comprehend why. Friday came closer, dashing toward Dante with incredible speed, something he had only seen from Eight¡¯s teleportation. A cleaver sang for Dante¡¯s neck, yet it never reached his flesh. The bearer vanished from the warped space before landing his killing blow. Friday had no choice but to use a blade so close to a dimensional rift. Who knew what would happen to a bullet at one? Nevertheless, it cost him his kill. Dante exhaled a sigh of relief. His whole body relaxed, and he collapsed. But as he fell from his singular leg, the voice that had always been inside him came from outside, ¡°There we go. Time to stop hiding.¡± 50 - Hauling Winds Of Time - Book 1 End Across the galaxy, nestled within the center region of the Heart, an old man¡¯s head lifted from slumber. Eyes sharpened, and bones crackled. An automated, unthinking system rang out as pure oxygen filtered into the lightless enclosure. ¡°Welcome awake, Sir. It has been twenty-five years since you last awakened fully. May you log the reason for Congress¡¯ knowledge?¡± A low, resounding voice echoed into the darkness, his violet pupils illuminating what was once a colorless dungeon, ¡°No.¡± Dante¡¯s entire body shivered, a mind-numbing chill coursing through his flesh at the speed of lightning. The lightning then shocked him awake as a shadow detached from him, stepping straight out of his skin. It was like a fish emerging from a lightless lake, bulging out the waves before emerging into the open air. The figure stretched out his muscles, possessing a height identical to Dante. It bore a face identical to him, too. And the same build. The same is true for everything they harbored. That is until he turned to face Dante. The human saw not blue eyes but abyssal eyes that proclaimed they lorded over all. Dante¡¯s mind quivered in submissive misery from merely gazing into the being. He lowered his gaze just as he realized his leg had returned to him. Gurgling gasps of choked blood came from Saerer, only feet away, while Eight¡¯s eyes widened even further. Dante¡¯s attention, however, remained frozen onto only this figure. Judas. Though, was that even his name? Dante didn¡¯t think so, nor did he believe the being to be like Astraeus. At least not in motive or power. Or age. Judas leaned back, his muscles, tendons, and bones twisting with countless pops as he stretched. The human staring at him retreated, taking a step away from the rift without meaning to. The moment Dante realized his folly, the shadow spoke, ¡°Ah, ah, ah. This one is mine. As... gratitude for being a wonderful courier and smuggler... I¡¯ll let you live.¡± Dante sputtered, not sure how to respond. He managed to find his grit a second later as he listened to Saerer near her last gasp, and he demanded, ¡°Who are you? What will you do inside there?¡± ¡®Judas¡¯ sighed with falling shoulders. His abyssal eyes shifted to meet Dante¡¯s azure with a warning, ¡°You ask for much. Alas, I am in a good mood and will tell you. You kept me hidden from them. Now, I will enter there, and I will claim the dimension. What else is worthy of me other than a dimension for my next body to be born of?¡± The human¡¯s teeth gnashed against each other. He knew what ¡®claim¡¯ meant. Judas would enter that realm and kill everyone inside to make sure only he could have it. In there, could anyone stop him? Dante didn¡¯t know. He didn¡¯t know what or who Judas was. Even those he was hiding from remained out of Dante¡¯s grasp. All he knew was that his crew was inside, waiting for him to join them. ¡°Will you let my crew live? As part of that gratitude?¡± Dante asked softly, already knowing the answer. A shake of the head was his reply. Then, the fake followed, ¡°No. That Lucius fellow holds too much affinity with the Inferose. Walk away before I change my mind. That¡¯s a greater kindness than your brother received.¡± Dante¡¯s pupils dilated, and his eyes enlarged as the shadow mentioned his younger brother. Instantly, the human moved, dashing forward toward Judas. He clenched his hand, tightening it to the extreme as he called for his Tide, but nothing answered. Surprise held his heart, but he didn¡¯t linger, assuming the effect to be from fatigue. Instead, he scrambled to the shotgun on the floor and aimed it straight at Judas. The lightless eyes didn¡¯t react in the slightest. They simply stared at Dante with indifference. Upon seeing such apathy, Dante squeezed the trigger, and the incredible power of the weapon flew out. Less than a split-second later, Judas¡¯ head flew off of his body, splattered by a crimson, bloodied mist. The body below wobbled, yet Dante gaped at the corpse incredulously. He¡¯s dead? Just like that? No... no way... He can¡¯t be dead. As if to prove Dante¡¯s wit true, time Reset before his very eyes, bringing Judas back to life. It looked exactly the same as Dante¡¯s Stigmata. The human¡¯s mind rushed with thoughts, but they were all halted by the shadow. He shattered all of Dante¡¯s hopes, ¡°Hmm... It¡¯s been a while since I used my Stigmata. Oh. I told you it was mine. And that I¡¯d get it back. Unfortunately for you... I joined you when you didn¡¯t have any power. That means I got nothing. What a shame. I¡¯m sure your true Stigmata is... anomalous anyhow,¡± Judas puffed his lips slightly as if thinking despondently. Then he nodded, finding his groove again. While turning around, the copy of Dante with those pitch-black sclera and irises waved goodbye. However, before the man could enter the rift, Dante shouted one last question, ¡°Why me? Why... any of this? What about my brother? How do you know him!?¡± A stark laugh resounded as flesh began to distort and warble, utterly unlike all the other beings who entered the Inferose. It was... almost like the dimension struggled to hold Judas¡¯ weight. Once more, it proved to Dante his power. But more than anything, his words carved themselves into Dante¡¯s heart. ¡°Wrong place. Wrong time. A Leviathan owed me a favor. As for you and not the other two... I have a fondness for humans. That is all.¡± An instant later, Judas was gone, and that was not all. The shimmering rift, revealing the scene of a supermassive rose made of some unknown corpse, vanished with him. The loss of the Inferose left Dante, Eight, and Saerer alone on the field. And without the dimension¡¯s warping effect, the dozen Anathemas still rushing this way noticed the three. Dante eyed them with glossy intent. He was struggling to comprehend all that had happened. Still, through the bewilderment, Saerer¡¯s gurgled labor against death entered his ears. He turned to face her, stumbling beside her. After sinking to his knees, Dante seized the Anathema¡¯s mangled hand. He felt its warmth, the heat that Thermo had delivered. He felt it withering. Air entered his lungs and then exited. He spoke tenderly to the dying woman, ¡°Saerer... Why did you do that? It doesn¡¯t make any sense. We hardly know each other. And... I left you. Why?¡± The Dirge sputtered through the hole in her chest, talking despite the damage, ¡°I... did... it... for... Master...¡± Saerer made the noises almost as if she were articulating through her throat, utterly skipping her mouth. She paused slightly, fighting to say a few more words, ¡°Protect her... human...¡± Then her chest stopped rising, and the heat from her hands vanished. Dante bit his lip as he observed the decaying Dirge. Within seconds, her body withered away into steam, echoing her Tide. He cursed aloud, slamming his fist into the dirt, ¡°Fuck!¡± Dante stood immediately afterward, his rage spiraling out of control. Too much had been thrown at him. Dante couldn¡¯t prepare for it all or handle a portion of it. He only had plans for Hana! How was he supposed to expect so many monsters to appear!? Astraeus was a terrifying Anathema, and so was Hana. What were the chances for three more Dirge with their qualifications appearing? And more so... Judas had done nothing for months. Not a damned thing since Dante had him in his mind. At a certain point, the human believed the man was a figment of his imagination.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. It seemed fate wished to spite him, for today proved his thoughts wrong. After kicking the dirt while the surrounding Anathema watched from afar, careful not to approach, Dante crouched beside another dying person. He didn¡¯t say any words to Eight, for they wouldn¡¯t be kind if he did. He merely observed the young man, noting the perfect mixture of steel and flesh. Dante¡¯s augments weren¡¯t even close to such artistry. Whoever did this was decades, if not centuries, ahead of the rest of the galaxy in research that had been primarily abandoned. It wasn¡¯t just the strength and complexity that made the body so impressive. It was its resilience. The Lightsea... Eight, a creature of flesh and steel, could resist its currents. Such a thing should be impossible. ¡°I fucking hate you. You know that?¡± Dante whispered honestly to the Anomaly below him. He loathed everything about the little bastard, from his attitude to his raw strength. Even with death staring him down, the kid lied again and again, refusing to say a single damn truthful word about himself or his motives. The arrogant Cryo wobbled his eyes crazily as if trying to tell Dante something. Again, the human didn¡¯t seem to care. It was as if a piece had shattered inside his mind. He patted Eight on his broken throat, speaking with malice, ¡°I know. The vultures are coming. I can¡¯t stop them. Too weak. You though... I know your secret. Give me one second to make some collateral.¡± Despite the approaching Dirge, Dante retrieved a scrap of paper from his pocket. With it, he wrote using the pooling blood. He swiftly scribbled that Eight was a Breathing-Metal and that he shouldn¡¯t exist, articulating how to prove it and what it might mean. Then, with the Dirge only seconds away, he reached forward to Eight¡¯s skull. He offered a deal as he reattached Eight¡¯s head onto his shoulders appropriately, ¡°You will help me kill Judas and, of course, survive this. In exchange... I will keep your secret.¡± A second later, innards seemed to click within Eight¡¯s body as a huff of air entered his lungs, the muscles concaving again. The young man retched, coughing as he sat up in affliction. He nearly fell to the ground while Dante mocked him by patting his back. After slapping the human¡¯s paws away, Eight choked out a single word, ¡°Fine,¡± he could hardly talk through the blood and scrambled throat. Still, he was not an Anomaly for nothing. ¡°Dick.¡± Dante ignored the young man¡¯s insult and hauled him to his feet. There, both stood in the center of a collapsing army. Now, the threat possessed only twelve or so bodies, but neither were in any position to fight. Their state only worsened after Eight delivered a final blow to Dante¡¯s mental state with an admission, ¡°You... know... I don¡¯t sense... the Lightsea from you.¡± The human closed his eyes while Eight conjured blades of ice, crouching despite his broken neck. It would appear as long as his head wasn¡¯t destroyed, the boy may be immortal. Of course, damage still accumulated, but the skull simply had to be reattached, and all was fine. At least, that was what Eight made it look like to the incoming Dirge. In reality, he was experiencing untold agony, forcibly keeping himself standing through a technique that froze his joints. Typically, it was used for defense, but he had to use it just for his posture. While Dante sensed his condition, Eight shouted to the mass encroaching upon the duo, ¡°Hey, chuckleshits! The Inferose is gone! Fuck off! Go help your Caesars or something!¡± In return, the frontmost Dirge, a lanky man with glacial antlers on his head, asked, ¡°Then give us the gun.¡± Eight¡¯s eyes shifted to Dante just as the human released a lengthy sigh. Eight spoke the truth. He could no longer pull from the Lightsea. He could still sense it, perhaps because he once had access, but it denied him. His Stigmata Reset... or Judas¡¯ Stigmata refused to activate. The uncomfortable ability treated him as if it had never existed. And to top it all off... Surewinter was almost frozen solid. The separate yet minor connection to the Lightsea he possessed declined to respond any more than the most minute shiver. He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d be able to use Surewinter at all. Tears welled up in Dante¡¯s eyes for the first time in many years. They were more than droplets of sorrow or pain, however. They were at a loss of hope. After years and years of suffering, of solitude, of isolation, of never truly being a living person, he had grasped a slim tendril of hope. He held power, and while it was fractional, it had limitless potential. All that was left was for him to put in the work. Such a guarantee meant everything to Dante in a world where, most often, the powerful seemed to do nothing at all to acquire it. That notion from Claudius returned to his mind. ¡°Do you wish to die?¡± Dante answered honestly, only his proclamation entered the air without a hint of fear, ¡°You can take the shotgun over my body. I¡¯m not opposed to dying today. Are you?¡± The Dirge stopped, sensing Dante¡¯s resolve. They could feel the lack of power within him, but that only made them more suspicious. The sensation was utterly unlike someone simply exhausted. After all, he fought Hana not that long ago. How could such a man not hold any power? Johanu, the foremost Anathema, squinted his eyes. Displaying so little energy from his body could only mean one thing at this moment. Dante still held power and enough of it that he could waste a large portion of it, hiding his strength with some technique. As such, the Dirge retreated slowly. The reputation of Hana was too profound. The previous match between Dante and her lingered in their minds, even if the human received help. He was the one standing here now, after all. The Gunwale had run. From him. The scouring eyes also found Eight to be a threat in of himself. With the reward for fighting both only being an unknown shotgun, the Anathemas simultaneously fell back. With his eyes reflecting the receding back, Dante released a sigh, not of relief but of disappointment before strapping the weapon to his back. It only contained a few shells, meaning he¡¯d have to be careful with its usage, adding to his displeasure. Eight glimpsed the depression with a scoff, ¡°You truly are suicidal. Hitching a ride with Dirge and then this? Fuck. I thought Rejo was stupid to be caught by Astraeus. Hmm... How did that bastard even get inside you guys? I¡¯ve never heard of anything like that. Weird though he didn¡¯t kill you. Must be a reason.¡± Dante shook his head, dropping straight to the ground, ¡°Something to do with Thanaris¡¯ master. Don¡¯t know any more than that. He must have been the Leviathan that gave Judas the favor. No clue why he left me alive, though.¡± Eight nodded, plopping down right beside the human. There, the two shared a look, and Dante glared right at his reflection in Eight¡¯s eyes. The older man groaned out, ¡°Really? Just leave me the fuck alone.¡± Those few words brought out an icy hate from Eight¡¯s being. He looked Dante up and down before pointing a threatening finger right at him, ¡°No. You don¡¯t get to do that.¡± ¡°Do what?¡± Dante laughed. Eight narrowed his eyes and plowed his frozen finger straight into Dante¡¯s chest as the man fell without a contest, ¡°That. You can¡¯t just give up. Get the fuck up. What happened to your drive? Your ambition? You...¡± Dante simply shrugged in response, ¡°What can I do? There goes my Qualae. My Tide. I don¡¯t know how, but it¡¯s all gone. I can¡¯t fight back. I can¡¯t... do anything. I¡¯ll just die like an ant between elephants.¡± The Anomaly stood from the bloodied dirt. Then, he put his hands on his hips while the steel cables in his neck gradually reknitted themselves. It was a peculiar sight, but not one that Eight could even feel as the metal recovered faster than his flesh. Instead, he focused on the man who forced him into a deal. Not even Claudius had done such a thing. Eight forced Claudius into one. The prideful Cryo ordered, ¡°Get the fuck up. We¡¯re gonna go get you another Qualae, even if we have to scavenge it from Praetor fucking Sun herself. And then? I¡¯m going to teleport us into the Inferose and murder the shithead who shot me. We can get this Judas fellow, too. I don¡¯t even care about your blackmail. Means nothing to me.¡± A flicker reemerged within Dante¡¯s heart as he squinted. Still, he didn¡¯t totally believe Eight, ¡°I can have another one? And... it¡¯s still here?¡± A broad smile mirrored off Eight¡¯s jaws, and the young master of violence laughed aloud. He pointed off into the distance as dust, ice, blood, and a myriad of other elements entered the atmosphere, ¡°Yes. Who says you can¡¯t? And, of course, it is. Judas only closed the entrance. But do you remember who I am? If I want in somewhere... who fuck will stop me? Some mind-hugging freak? Nah.¡± Eight offered a hand to Dante, lowering it with an open invitation. ¡°I might be... this thing, but I know how my Stigmata works. With my earlier practice, I can do it. Come on. A deal is a deal, even if you cheated.¡± Dante gazed up at the hand and hesitated for only a split second. Then, he clasped his flesh around Eight¡¯s. After reaching his feet, the man wobbled shortly before stumbling after the Cryo, for he had already walked away. I cheated? How childish. If the game is rigged, then the only way to play is to cheat. Since I was born, nothing has been fair. The kid¡¯s wise for his years, but he¡¯s still a kid in the end. He¡¯ll learn. If we survive. The human struggled to keep up, tripping and falling every few steps from the wear of the battles and his thoughts. Nonetheless, his eyes burned once more with a radiant glow, opposite to Judas¡¯ black, as he eyed the horizon. There, his true Qualae and Stigmata would lie. And if he did indeed get his powers from a Caesar as Eight jested... Dante would be more powerful than ever. More than that, too. He would have a firm foundation to grow from. Most Seafarers, Psions, Tidewalkers, Windbreakers, or any other Designation started from a lowly Anaphage. Now, if he could begin anew, with his skills, though meager, with the boost of a Caesar? Legends said that the youngest Legate, Heaven¡¯s Devil, was the first to ever bear a Caesar¡¯s weight. Furthermore, Legate Ganun was a Cultivator, not a Tidewalker, who benefitted the most from such legacies. Such a future was boundless as long as Dante could survive. His mouth watered at what might await him. However, Dante¡¯s joy dampened with Eight¡¯s very next sentence, ¡°Also, I¡¯m not apologizing for wanting to kill you.¡± The two shared a glance and laughed, a sharp, resonant sound that echoed across the field and rustled through the trees ahead. The human shook his head. Dante knew the truth about this little bastard beside him. Eight was hypocritical, bloodthirsty, and enigmatic. Dante didn¡¯t believe his reasoning for wanting him dead for a second, yet for the time being, that didn¡¯t matter. He was safe from the Anomaly. His blackmail might have failed, but he wasn¡¯t too worried anymore. Why? It was simple. They both believed in the deal, and their goals aligned. As such, they could walk safely. Neither would give their lives for the other, but cooperation was possible. The younger fellow¡¯s eyes streaked toward the open sky as they walked toward the distant, boiling trees. Without the canopy above, the heavens bloomed with a dual violent-orange, constantly battling for dominion. Beyond where the leaves would have been, specks of darkness appeared, blotting out the colors. Eight paused, his steps halting without explanation. Dante, too, slowed, turning to face the teen. Then, his eyes, too, rose into the sky, watching as birds fluttered overhead, wolves howled in the distance, and the clangor of crickets resounded throughout the world. Life had replanted itself upon the world the instant the Inferose left. But it was more than that. These creatures were not ordinary. Each was legendary, fabled beings capable of using dimensional energies on their own. They were yet more challengers, desiring to scavenge the scraps. The Cryo¡¯s hand pointed upward, tagging a building-sized, wingless, and footless bird. It possessed no feathers yet flew. With a grin, Eight met Dante as the former recalled a memory he didn¡¯t have. He spoke with a sort of meaning Dante had never heard from him before, ¡°You see that? It¡¯s a Loveless Bird. A rare specimen, capable of crossing entire Sectors in hours. Do you know why I love them?¡± ¡°Why?¡± Dante returned the question to him, and Eight laughed, ¡°Because they have no legs. No wings. No feathers. They cannot swim, either. There is no home for them to return to. Once they leave their nest and learn to control the Lightsea, leaping into the air¡­ They have only one choice. To fly!¡± The young man¡¯s eyes hardened, and he stared Dante down as he held out a hand. Eight couldn¡¯t recall the last time someone had saved his life. He remembered nothing other than that Loveless Bird. It meant something. He didn¡¯t know why or how. Nonetheless, he idolized the Loveless Bird. ¡°For¡­ the second it lands, it seals its fate.¡± Dante¡¯s pupils dilated, shining with brilliance. At that moment, he understood the core of Eight. The boy moved without a rhyme or rhythm, but he did, in fact, have one. Eight¡¯s ambitions were higher than anyone could imagine. He aimed for the summit of a peak that had been cleaved off. He wanted to soar so high that he could never fall back down. The human gazed at Eight, amazed by the young man¡¯s unveiled motives. It was not the simple goal of acquiring Dante another Qualae and restoring his talents. Upon peering at the Loveless Bird, Eight recalled the figure that protected the old man in his forgotten memories. It was fate. Eight desired to use Claudius to writhe up the ladder of power for the boy¡¯s own plans, but that could wait. Fate had other plans, and Eight didn¡¯t want to fight these memories in his head. There was only one option. Without his typical arrogance or boyish-jest, he found a truth he could not ignore. Bet it all on this single chance. Hold nothing back. Should they fail, they would both die, crashing without wings to carry them or legs to stand them back up. Not even feathers would cushion their fall. However¡­ if they survived¡­ if they kept themselves aloft in this typhoon they walked toward¡­ The Cryo disregarded his hate and his disgust for the human. Instead, he offered his life for the boundless opportunity that presented itself. It would be effortless to steal some insights or strength among the bodies of half a dozen Caesars. Yet it was only once. Once. If they died once, it was over. Meanwhile, they had to survive without fault. One failure meant death for both men. Neither enjoyed a gamble. Even so, it was all they had ever known. They had always bet something in every fight, every maneuver, and every action. But this once, this singular time, they could do more than just imagine for that beautiful future. The sky above lost its light as hordes of Loveless Birds broke out of the Lightsea while the planet¡¯s atmosphere contained only the howling winds of distant warfare. Blood spilled, lives ended, and two hands, unequal in weight, grasped each other fairly. ¡°Then let us fly.¡± 51 - Great Whims An old man¡¯s head jerked upward, parchment-thin skin trembling. His prison was silent, air thick with the musk of decay and desperation. Eyes¡ªmilky, cratered¡ªnarrowed to slits. A frown carved itself into his face, deeper than the scars of his unnatural longevity. He whispered under his breath, forgotten before the words reached the nearby sightless walls, ¡°He¡¯s alive. It seems¡­ you failed, my love.¡± Three pairs of lungs inhaled stale air in sync, despite all three having distinct memories. A gray-skinned man shifted in the leather chair he found himself in and breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes met two of his companions, a humanoid reptilian, already unsheathing his swords, and a four-armed gunslinger whose eyes squinted. ¡°Status? Everyone alive?¡± Claudius¡¯ voice cut through the diner¡¯s stale air. Not just a question, a command. Tables meant for thirty stood empty. Only their ragged breaths answered. Nods returned to him a moment later, and the Judge¡¯s recent battle came to his mind. He glanced down at his body in a hurry, but discovered not a single wound. He was spotless. There was no blood except for the drops trailing down his nose. Claudius wiped the sign of overextending his Seer Designation and pondered his situation. The only problem was he didn¡¯t know what to start with. So, he instead spoke aloud, ¡°Things aren¡¯t good. I fought a powerful man with scrying while the rest of you were enchanted. It was¡­ so bad I had to craft a Covenant with the Lightsea. Shabby and rushed, but Praetor Sun prepared me. After the fight¡­ I think we were pulled here. The Inferose.¡± Both Talander and Yue nodded, with the latter asking, ¡°What about Rosa? Where is she? How did we sense nothing? I¡­ can¡¯t believe we were so useless.¡± The Judge shook his head, acknowledging Talander¡¯s patient silence, and explained, ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I think she¡¯s fine. Call it a Seer¡¯s speculation. The Inferose was affecting everyone¡¯s minds. Only¡­ a few could resist it. Those who could were¡­ terrifying. It was a close call. But we¡¯re here now. We just need to reach its core. I can feel it.¡± Claudius turned to the window. The horizon burned. Not with sunlight¡ªwith a bloated, pulsing rose, its petals edged in blackened flame. His throat tightened. The Inferose wasn¡¯t a dimension. It was a throat, swallowing them whole. It would only offer its strength should they survive the digestion. Fragments of visions came to him, and he bit down. Hard. The Judge¡¯s hands tore apart the table beneath him while Talander rushed to his aid, grabbing his shoulders. Yue, too, tried to help, but Claudius pushed them back, ¡°No! I¡¯m fine. Just¡­ I¡¯m fine. Give me a second.¡± With a shaky spine, Claudius stood to his full height again. His Stigmata had changed. His touch no longer merely entered the past. The price he had paid was substantial. Claudius Vermillion would never wield a Domain Collapse. He had locked himself into the lower echelons of power. A Centurion was now his pinnacle. Only five Praetors lacked Domains among the several hundred in Congress. Nonetheless¡­ Claudius did not regret his sacrifice. If he hadn¡¯t given his all, his entire crew would have died. Dante would have died. The only survivor would be him, and he would have been crippled, anyway. The figure he saw only in the confines of the future after his pact possessed the exact limit of power to enter here, as if it was calculated. Claudius saw him enter the Inferose in that torn reality. He breathed in and out. Then, he placed his hand against the windowpane of the plain diner, focusing on his returning calm as he spoke again, ¡°I¡¯m going to use Telemetry. It¡¯s evolved. Don¡¯t let me fall.¡± Yue¡¯s brows rose, but she swiftly caught the Judge as his legs gave out and his eyes rolled back. The use of his ability while conscious was not something that would readily return. Yet as his crew carried him to a chair, and the winds of night flowed outside, Claudius entered what was to come. His mind spiraled, waging a war toward the rivers of fate. He strode, step by step, against a descending waterfall, hiking up it despite its curvature. With each step, another piece of a vision crossed his mind. A lone man stood outside the unadorned diner. With a plain, unassuming smile, he asked, ¡°Hello? Can you let me in?¡± Three figures stood inside the building, still discussing strategy. The sudden noise under the risen moon startled them. None had sensed the man, and as they gazed outside, they saw a human standing ramrod with a sweater and pants. The Irgen strode forward to open the door. Claudius stepped back behind him, drawing his Executioner. After seeing his caution, Yue also prepared her guns. Talander stood before the glass door, and he paused, staring at the human who stood inches from the door. With one hand on a sword and his tail wound for battle, he asked, ¡°Who are you? Are you human? Are you from here?¡± In response to his questions, the human didn¡¯t blink. His eyes mirrored Talander¡¯s steel with their glint. A glance flipped between Claudius and the Irgen before approval was given. After a robust inhale, ice already forming on his blade, Talander pulled the door open. The squeaky glass frame swung wide, and the human spoke with a child¡¯s tenderness as he stepped in, ¡°Thank you.¡± Talander¡¯s muscles relaxed for a split second, and then he saw a horde of bodies appear down the street of the lifeless town. Tens. Maybe even a hundred. All humans.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Before Claudius¡¯ words reached Talander¡¯s ears, the Irgen¡¯s vision drooped and slanted, ¡°Talander! What the fuck are you?! It¡¯s not human! Yue! Run!¡± Glass shattered as Claudius broke open an escape, but the Harenlar refused to leave. She unloaded round after round into the ¡®human¡¯. Twenty-four bullets split open the creature¡¯s flesh, yet all it did was open a craving, flaming maw for each hole. And a single one decapitated Talander. The sight froze Yue. Her bullets did nothing. Claudius pulled her away, but he wasn¡¯t fast enough. On the cool diner floor, Talander¡¯s eyes closed forever as he watched the creature eviscerate Yue and rip out her spine. Guts dripped downward and splashed against the porcelain squares below. Claudius¡¯ eyes lingered on the blood just long enough for him to hear the man¡¯s words before the Judge ran away. ¡°Tasty.¡± ******************** ¡°Fuck!¡± Rejo groaned aloud as he sat on a tree stump, his head pounding and fuzzy. For all his muscles and endurance, he was wholly unprepared for a Domain Collapse. It drained him of energy while supplanting it with egregious pain, despite him copying Dante¡¯s Reset. A few hours later, the Araki held none of Dante¡¯s powers as his mouth tendrils writhed in frustration. Sonna stood before him, holding a hand to her chin as she took in the situation. Rejo told her all he knew of the battle outside the Inferose, including Dante¡¯s appearance, and the petite Weren struggled to put it all together. Sonna spoke to herself while Rejo continued to grumble, ¡°So¡­ an illusion¡­ hmm¡­ You did a Domain Collapse? Must be a translation flaw. Hmm¡­ We need to find him then. He should know what to do next. I feel like the sun is pulling us toward it. What do you¡ª¡± A voice interrupted her, appearing from the snow as if he belonged to it, ¡°I agree, Sonna. We must head toward the center. Dante shall be there. Together, we are strongest. Rejo.¡± Astraeus emerged, bowing to the combatant who had saved both Dante and his lives. Sonna stood in alarm, and even Rejo roused, forcing himself to prepare for a fight. Astraeus saw their wariness, his dark flesh warbling with anticipation as he threw his hands up, ¡°No, no, no. I¡¯m not your enemy. Not right now, anyway. Dante has spoken much of you both. We can work together. Just as the human and I have.¡± Sonna and Rejo shared a look, but both could only shrug. With Rejo¡¯s current fatigue and his recovering Domain, which Sonna didn¡¯t even believe in, they held no hope of defeating Astraeus. The Dirge¡¯s wounds weren¡¯t minor, but a cornered beast was the most perilous. As such, Sonna stood and opened her arms, asking, ¡°Alright then. Take the lead. Where do we go?¡± Astraeus made an odd noise with his mouth, reminding both sentients of Dante when annoyed. Then, the Anathema pointed through a brush, motioning for them to follow, ¡°This way. We need to hurry. Based on the entrance¡­ this might just be a race to dimension¡¯s core.¡± None opposed, and the group sliced through the snow. Thanks to Astraeus, he could move the chilled powder without issue, keeping it off the three and ensuring their warmth. Time passed in the tundra until they saw the trees lessen in volume. Then, they stepped past the boundary, discovering a small town right as the distant sun lost its glimmer. The moment the light left, everything fell silent. The trees became windless, and the frames of the few houses, diner, and church shrank as if hiding. Sonna squinted as she saw a figure in the street peering at the diner. It almost looked like a human in her eyes. The discovery sent her legs flying, and she sprinted toward who she thought was Dante. In the middle of her run, with Astraeus and a struggling Rejo behind her, the figure pivoted to face her. Its skin was perfect. Unblemished. Pure perfection. The sight sent a chill down Sonna¡¯s spine as her instincts fired. She slowed down a moment before a muffled shout came from the inside of the diner. ¡°RUN!¡± But she couldn¡¯t. Sonna froze as the figure¡¯s lips opened, and its legs brought it closer, ¡°Hello there,¡± it spoke without emotion, yet had a slight twinge to its voice. ¡°Would you shake my hand, Sonna Hearal?¡± It strode closer, extending a hand out to the Weren¡¯s petite body as it uttered a name it couldn¡¯t know. ******************** A gasping noise echoed into the confines of a snowy forest. The waves of sound bounced against the trees, knocking much of the whiteness off, but by the time it reached any ears, it only sounded like the wind. Such crashing weight brought a curse from a four-armed woman walking beneath the trees, ¡°I hate the fucking cold.¡± As a reply, the other woman present, with gray skin and rose-red lips, scoffed, ¡°Yeah. Just use some more of your bone-marrow as clothing.¡± Joan Rafe twisted to face Rosa Heartwelt. The two were dumped in the middle of this lifeless forest with no other company. Several hours had passed since they arrived, bewildered and lost, but they were forced to work together in such an environment. ¡°Hmm. You could use your Miro to warm me up, too. Don¡¯t think I can¡¯t see the steam wafting off your armor,¡± Joan scowled while trudging through the icy tundra. How they arrived here was a mystery. Both discussed the last things they remembered, but it meant nothing. Now, they could only argue, escalating their hatred of each other. One was a snake, devouring and shrewd, hiding her emotions, while the other often showed her fury but hid the deviousness. Rosa¡¯s blade hovered at Joan¡¯s throat. ¡°Stimulants. Now.¡± The Harenlar didn¡¯t flinch. Her secondary hands twitched toward her pouch¡ªslow, deliberate. A smile flickered. ¡°Careful, Judge-ling. You¡¯ll need me alive to thaw your corpse later.¡± Still, no violence came about as Joan delivered what was asked. Their whereabouts were unknown. Were they in the Inferose? They did not know. The last thing they remembered was stepping onto the plains. From there, all was blank. Rosa¡¯s mind swam with thoughts of Claudius and the rest of her crew. She knew this mission was risky. Of course, it had to be. The reward was exuberant. It only made sense. If she survived, Praetor Sun herself would train her, a woman recognized by Yarnen himself. The Zero Anomaly. The Profound Windbreaker. Despite the price she may have to pay, the young woman shook with anticipation. On the other hand, Joan¡¯s fate was downcast. She still hadn¡¯t found Dante. The doctor¡¯s mind ventured outward as the cold sank in, her stimulants fighting off the awful chill. Joan felt her desire to find Dante softening. It was as if she realized her only prospects were not with the human. She had her own strengths. While it may be more difficult alone, she shouldn¡¯t just stake out after him. Joan wasn¡¯t some love-obsessed youngling. She followed the best path, and in this tundra, after months of nothing, she sighed. Dante wasn¡¯t here. But another sign took Dante¡¯s place. A distant groaning. The doctor twisted her ear in thoughtfulness while Rosa¡¯s hands went to her blades. A second passed while both stood still, the Tianshe¡¯s eyes scouring every inch of the pale forest. She found nothing. Another moment passed, however, and the noise returned. Joan¡¯s eyes narrowed as she knew what it was. Who it was. ¡°Lucius. Come! He¡¯s hurt!¡± Joan swept her hand behind her, motioning Rosa to follow as the doctor sprinted through the dense snow. The Judge-aspirant hesitated for a beat but heeded her call. The four-armed Harenlar ran with a swiftness rarely shown. Her heart pounded as she injected yet another stimulant, rushing to her¡­ Test subject? Is that what he was to her? Yes. If he was anything else, Joan might just begin to care for him. She couldn¡¯t have that. Once. Only once did she care for her subject. And look where that got her? Stuck in a freezing tundra on an unknown dimension. As she burst through a leafless bush covered in alabaster powder that stuck to her flesh, Joan saw him. The Martian she thought was nigh-invincible. Instead of the figure she knew, a broken mess lay before her and the arriving Rosa. None of his legs bent in the right direction. One arm was torn off at the elbow, and the other had no fingers. Both eyes were gouged out, no, chewed out, and his nose was a hollow cavity. Worse than those wounds, the man was gaunt, all his muscle and fat vanished. From where she stood, Joan saw Lucius¡¯ hearts, beating ever as a baby¡¯s first through the mangled flesh. It was so fragile. He was so fragile. Never in her life had the doctor seen such damage in a living creature. Her eyes sank into the cooling blood as it froze in her sight. As she stared, Joan realized the signs of her Biotic. He used it, the Brute. The realization in twain with the dying man left her frozen. The Tianshe came to a stop, gasping under her breath, ¡°Holy fucking shit. Is he¡­?¡± Rosa¡¯s awe grew as she dived to the ground, scooping up some fading moisture with her hand. ¡°Bastard killed an Anathema. Alone? Here? Joan? Joan? Joan!¡± Rosa¡¯s third yawp brought Joan back to reality. The doctor nodded, diving to the ground and pulling out the tools from her bag. Without saying a word, the scientist got to work, saving her subject. Rosa fell to the snow, too, her hand reaching out toward the Martian, ¡°Seal up his wounds. I¡¯ll work on the innards.¡± Her command brought both Joan¡¯s disgust and curiosity. A single raised eyebrow forced Rosa to explain, ¡°Miro. It¡¯s the only Tide that can heal. I¡¯m not all that good with it in this way, but you can¡¯t fix a mauled heart.¡± Joan snorted, ¡°I sure can. But it¡¯ll do. That''s why they have two. We need to stop the bleeding. And give him nutrients. Brute tore through everything he had. Can Miro revitalize?¡± ¡°Yeah. It can, even without a Negative-Tide. Arido steals, Miro returns, and Frigo stabilizes. Try your bone-marrow, too. Who knows its secrets?¡± Rosa spoke with confidence as both women got to work, healing the only one of the three who had killed an Anathema. No words. No barbs. Just blood-slick hands and the rasp of Lucius¡¯ dying breath. Joan¡¯s scalpel danced¡ªnot with cruelty, but precision. Rosa¡¯s Miro Tide glowed faintly, stitching muscle to bone. For once, they weren¡¯t rivals. They were gears in a machine, grinding to outpace death. As they rekindled Lucius¡¯ living flame, the lights above waned little by little. 52 - A Light, Born ¡°Majesty Formless? Why are we kidnapping all the hidden Martians in Roman territory? Won¡¯t we spark more conflict?¡± Faceless Nail asked his superior while they stalked through a remote mountain village on Exerous Eleven. A cerulean sky, embedded with shards of violet burned above the thick canopy. The younger man struggled to keep up with his burly form against the other figure¡¯s lithe movement beneath the sweltering atmosphere. The commander twisted back, his wooden mask bearing no recognizable traits. Then, he spoke with an altered voice, ¡°Martians are the best seed for our training. Everyone that survives the Path Of Grasses will become Formless.¡± In awe, the younger man nodded his head, redoubling his efforts toward scaling the mountain. Rumors said a family lived up here. It was their job to ¡®recruit¡¯ them. A young man flicked open the clasp of a chilled sphere, feeling the faint hum of power emanate from the Immortal Corpse. The box unleashed mist over his hands, the metal deceptively quiet against the turmoil that awaited within. Archimedes hesitated, staring at the contents¡ªa shimmering substance suspended in the sphere¡¯s center, something beyond science or logic. The concentrated essence of a Dirge, the sole method to slow their revival, pulsed with an eerie, unnatural vitality, a fragment of existence caught between worlds. Unlike Joan, it didn¡¯t jump at him hungrily. Instead, it seemed scared, almost anxious, before the engineer. He had read about Immortal Corpses and studied its theoretical usage, but to hold one and even consider using them felt like stepping off a precipice into the unknown. Outside, the scraping grew louder, the creatures scratching relentlessly at the hull. The narrow field of his view through the slits in the power rack allowed him to glimpse vague, shifting forms prowling outside. Dark shapes twisted in unnatural ways, each move accompanied by a low, predatory growl. They were getting closer, and Isaac could almost feel the weight of their collective presence pressing down on him, suffocating and oppressive. The Dirge were relentless; even the tiniest mistake would bring them down upon him, and then¡­ then there would be no more thinking, no more calculating. A cold sweat broke over his malnourished body. Despite the months spent eating well, he had not yet broken past his youth¡¯s torturous conditions. Against the chill, he took a steadying breath and, pressing the Immortal Corpse against his chest, let the sphere¡¯s energy bleed into him. The beast within hesitated, its spirit unsure, but Archimedes showed no hostility or strength. And so it lunged. It was unlike anything the boy had ever felt¡ªa searing flood of raw vitality filling every cell and saturating his veins with an alien power. The tiny cabinet around him seemed to expand and contract, each pulse of the Immortal Corpse heightening his senses and altering his perception. Pythagoras¡¯ thoughts became razor-sharp, and he could feel the barriers within his own mind beginning to fall. The Lightsea, the dark, extra-dimensional waters, flooded into him with ruthless ferocity, a tidal wave of consciousness sweeping through his mind. It was unlike the smooth, controlled entry he heard with Dante, Rejo, and Sonna. Yet it was also opposite to Joan¡¯s interaction, as she had fallen unconscious. Archimedes had his own battle, for his soul was timid yet pure. He could not be forced out of his own mind like Joan. This was an invasion, a test of will. The engineer held his ground, grounding himself against the onslaught. His hands clenched and pulled the enveloping wires, his entire body rigid as he met the Qualae¡¯s residual consciousness flowing into him. He realized it was young¡ªyoung and scared, its mind frantic with instinct and desperation. The darkness that was the Lightsea whispered in broken tones, fragmented words of a creature that only knew survival. Images flickered before him without ending. An absolute ocean, without a surface to be seen, held countless monsters hungering for the little thing. It scrounged for every second with its entire being, but then a voice called for it, raising it from the darkness and into the light. There, it had less to compete with and less to fight against, yet that did not mean no enemies or no predators. So, it built itself up and raised its own children to accompany it in order to survive. This Anachronism had existed in that brutal reality, clawing its way up from nothing, always hunting, always consuming. ¡°I understand,¡± Archimedes whispered, his voice barely audible over the rumble prowling Dirge. ¡°You were like me. Alone.¡± The words seemed to reach the consciousness. The beast paused, its slurred, jumbled thoughts sharpening in response. It regarded him, its mind recoiling, then pushing against him, testing his resolve. Archimedes¡¯ soul stood before it, vulnerable yet unwavering. He felt the creature¡¯s struggle, its reluctance to surrender, and yet its acknowledgment of him. More than simple acknowledgment, he could also sense confusion, as if it couldn¡¯t fathom why this small, frail thing would challenge it, why he would stand against something so obviously beyond him. They were supposed to merge. The living were meant to take the dead¡¯s spoils, and the dead were meant to forever inhabit the living¡¯s essence until they, too, joined the Lightsea. It was the Prime Covenant. But Archimedes didn¡¯t flinch. This was his moment, his decision. He could allow the merger to happen as usual, but he didn¡¯t. His mind spiked with power, something he wasn¡¯t aware he possessed, and he forced a connection between consciousnesses. There were many Designations that spoke of one¡¯s potential, yet only two possessed power without the Lightsea¡¯s fickle aid. These were beings who held supernatural power on their own, one in a million for the faintest aptitude, one in a billion for mediocre, and one in a trillion for true potential. A Seer. And a Psion. A vast field opened before Archimedes, a world between worlds, where metal and life, beast and machine, entwined in a surreal harmony. The boy stood beside a hunched-over hound with its once twisted and splattered body, now wholly recovered. The hound gazed sideways at Archimedes, their heights equal. It didn¡¯t know how to act or what to do. Unable to fight back, it simply sat, watching as the plain before them grew. Starships fizzled from nothingness as the hound¡¯s family returned, running along the landed steel beasts. Spires of metal reached toward the heavens as the bestial children scampered up the steles, enjoying themselves beyond measure. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Archimedes stared at the scene, tears cascading from his eyes as he watched the kids frolic, savoring their lives with bliss. He gazed down at his own hands, scrawny, pale, and scarred from overwork. Beside him, the Dirge¡¯s many eyes upon its wolfish head lowered to those palms. It recognized something through its limited yet awakened intelligence. Then, it bowed its skull for the kindness shown to it. With a struggle, its mind formed thanks, ¡°Th... hank... yo... ouu.¡± The boy released a smile and raised his weathered hand to rest upon the hound¡¯s fearsome maw. His fear evaporated as he found not a monster in the bottle of terror but a lonely child like himself. He found a friend. ¡°No. Thank you. I... won¡¯t let you die. I won¡¯t kill you. Join me. I can make you a body. We can... we can work together. We don¡¯t have to be so lonely. Would you like to... would you like to be my friend?¡± Archimedes asked with great hesitance, for his sole lingering rear was rejection, not death. A beat passed as the beast returned the boy¡¯s gaze. They stood silent, as neither knew what to do or say. Then, the terrible creature shifted its many eyes back to its deceased children, its friends, and soaked in one last image of their joy. ¡°Fr... ie... nd.¡± The sole word, spoken through its mind while stretched and disfigured, meant the world to Archimedes. He had made his first friend. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered, his voice choked with falling liquid. His trembling hands reached for the hound¡¯s spectral form, and, with a steady resolve, he gave his new companion a name. ¡°Euclid. Your name will be Euclid, for the many shapes you bear and all the paths you¡¯ve traveled to get here.¡± The typical cowardly nature of Archimedes felt stifled, for his joy was overflowing. His words emerged easier than they ever had before as he unearthed his confidence. Euclid¡¯s form shimmered, the ghostly hound lowering its many-eyed head in acceptance. Archimedes could feel the cold press of the Anachronism¡¯s energy as Euclid¡¯s essence began to merge with him, and he instinctively funneled the spirit into his right arm, the foreign power taking root within his bones and veins. With a grunt, he reached with his left hand, pulling out a length of wire from the wall. Without worrying about the electricity within, he wound it tightly around his upper right arm, fastening it with his teeth to create a crude but effective brace that could hold Euclid in place. ¡°Sorry,¡± Archimedes said softly, biting down on the wire to tighten it further, for his arms were weaker than his jaws. ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to prepare anything better.¡± Through their shared connection, Euclid¡¯s mind rippled in response, a soothing acknowledgment that wordlessly reassured him. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± the voice echoed, disjointed but dogged. At that moment, ice crystals began to spiderweb across Archimedes¡¯ right arm, encasing it in a thin layer of geometrical frost as Euclid settled into his new home. The arm felt strangely weightless yet brimming with latent strength¡ªa strength that Isaac knew would be both his shield and his weapon. His grin enlarged as he realized he was like Eight. Like Rejo. He, too, could be strong. But the melding of Lightsea energies had not gone unnoticed. He could hear the Dirge stirring beyond the cramped cabinet, their skittering claws and low growls growing louder, drawn by the presence of the power he had only barely contained. He knew he had only seconds before they would find him. With a racing heart, he burst from his hiding place, sprinting down the narrow hallway toward the glass door that led to the docking corridor. Before, it was an impenetrable wall. Yet now that he had the piercing power of a Cryo? The most offensive of all Tides? Archimedes¡¯ eyes scoured the transparent frame, scavenging for any hint of weakness to guarantee his escape. Meanwhile, his bare feet pounded against the metal floor as he darted forward, the chill of Euclid¡¯s presence sharpening his senses even as the frantic stomps behind quickened his heart. The icicles from his right arm spread along the edges of his fingers, trailing his touch, but his left arm felt increasingly warm. A soft wisp of steam rose from it, the heat building in counterpoint to the cold. Archimedes tightened his grip on Euclid¡¯s power as he neared the reinforced glass door. Just before his last step, he saw a slight mark from its creation, a tiny imperfection in the structure. His teeth clenched as he swung his right arm with every ounce of momentum he could muster. ¡°Now, Euclid!¡± Isaac shouted, his voice carrying over the growing cacophony of pursuing Dirge. Euclid¡¯s essence surged in response, and the ice across Archimedes¡¯ arm condensed, intensifying as a sharpened spike. The glass airlock shattered beneath the blow, shards bursting outward. Without pausing or slowing, he charged through the ruined door, the cold intensifying as he pressed onward. API¡¯s legs burned from the sprint, his feet bled from stepping on glass, and his left arm, too, shed crimson through the burgeoning steam. He rarely wore long sleeves, shoes, socks, or anything beyond a T-shirt and pants. The extra stimulation was too much, distracting him from his focus. But right now, through the pain, discomfort, and chill of his arm, he pushed on, knowing that hesitation would mean death. The howl of the Dirge echoed behind him, closer now, and Archimedes dared not look back. He felt the presence of the creatures gaining ground, their hunger and bloodlust spurring them faster. They were like Euclid, starving from circumstance and deprived of care, yet Archimedes¡¯ empathy meant nothing. He could only rush ahead while the strange, warming power within him intensified as he hastened, steam billowing in his wake. Another door loomed ahead¡ªa glass center and steel perimeter, reinforced to withstand external force. Archimedes didn¡¯t slow, gritting his teeth as he swung his right arm again, channeling the might he saw within Eight. He couldn¡¯t find a weakness, for the Heron¡¯s Wing was made without error. All he could do was hope the ice was enough. With his eyes closed, the young boy¡¯s frail body propelled itself forward at a speed impossible for his condition. Ice met glass, and the impact was immediate, bruising every bone in Archimedes¡¯ body and shaking his mind inside its cage. Before his eyes, A crack emerged from the sheer force. Isaac¡¯s focus narrowed, and his ears rustled, hearing the approaching death. Euclid spoke within him, a warning and encouragement, but the boy couldn¡¯t hear him. His mind was within the splinter of transparent silica. Blood dripped down his nose as his consciousness expanded, for his grand intelligence was not simple. With just his mental strength, without an ounce of experience, he slammed his mind against the crack with the instinct of a trapped animal. All that came was a dull thud and a burst of vessels in his nose. The wall was unaffected, save a minor expansion on the crack. More crimson dripped down, a significant amount for a teen of his size. With few options, Pythagoras struck out his hand again, pathetically, without the previous momentum. The spiderwebs barely moved from his force, deepening his despair. In the gate¡¯s reflection, he could see them get closer. All he could do was watch, frozen with the leaking blood. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. The boy looked around, grasping at metaphorical straws, until he noticed the steam seething from his left arm. Steam. Thermo. How? Doesn¡¯t matter. Heat. Heat. Fire. Glass. Ice. It¡¯ll work! Through his panic, Archimedes found a calm he didn¡¯t possess. The scrambling mind, with far too much power and wisdom to ever relax, settled after expending its vibrancy. His left arm flexed, the air around it heating to a near-boiling degree, and pressed against the freezing glass. Heat met cold within the cracked glass, and the expansion of the crystals within the wall burst it apart at the seams. With a rare laugh, Archimedes stepped through the door, stumbling forward into the hallway of the Heron¡¯s Wing. He had done it. He had made it to the Heron¡¯s Wing. His eyes scanned the passage in bliss, taking in the incredible technology. Then he slipped, the gushing blood from his feet too much for his uncoordinated nerves and muscles. Isaac collapsed to his knees, chest heaving with exhaustion as he skidded across the floor. The rush of power within him was like a furnace, the heat from his left side mingling with the chilling frost that had taken root in his right. He couldn¡¯t control it, not properly, but he couldn¡¯t stop¡ªcouldn¡¯t rest. The Dirge were still after him. He scrambled forward, reaching for the power box on the wall near the docking mechanism as he properly entered the Heron¡¯s Wing. His fingers fumbled over the controls, his mind working frantically to override the lock commands. Each second stretched as he keyed in the sequence, stealing glances at the creatures closing in on him through the corridor, their black eyes glinting with hunger. Twenty feet. Ten feet. ¡°Come on, come on!¡± he shouted, raising his voice to the loudest he ever had. His fingers jerked as he bypassed the safety protocols, overriding the docking system¡¯s automated commands. Starships were never meant to undock this quickly and without lowering the walls alongside raising another airlock. Nonetheless, there were always exceptions. All automated systems needed an admin. That was a literal law, written into code for what terrors humanity had left in their wake. Five feet. The mechanism accepted his input, bending before his combined mind and skill, and with a heavy shudder, the hallway connecting the two ships retracted. Zero. The Dirge screeched in protest as the docking corridor folded inward, the walls collapsing and crushing anything within their path. One by one, the creatures were trapped. Their frantic movements halted as the structure compressed, snuffing them out with a series of sickening crunches. But one was too close. It dived toward Archimedes, lusting after his flesh and the power he held within him. Archimedes held his breath, frozen as he watched the internal airlock of the Heron¡¯s Wing slam shut with the force to cleave steel. Half. The Dirge made it halfway through as the lower half of the feline Anaphage sliced itself at its ribs. Two forelimbs, a maw, and copious liters of blood flew toward the young boy. It landed inches in front of him, already unbreathing as it rolled without life. Silence returned, broken only by the low hum of the Heron¡¯s Wing¡¯s engines. Archimedes let out a shaky sigh as he stared into the beast¡¯s eyes, slumping back against the cold metal wall when his legs gave out beneath him. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to breathe, the exertion of the escape and the power of Euclid¡¯s spirit taking their toll. He could feel the frost dissipating from his right arm, the intense chill easing while the steam evaporated, leaving his left arm swollen and red, yet a faint trace of Euclid¡¯s presence remained. ¡°I did it,¡± Arch whispered while closing his eyes, the weight of his exhaustion almost too heavy to bear. Euclid¡¯s spirit pulsed within him, a steady and reassuring rhythm that mirrored his heartbeat, as if the hound, too, was savoring their survival. For the first time in a long time, Archimedes felt something other than fear, something other than the endless struggle to survive. He felt hope¡ªa tiny, fragile spark that burned brightly against the darkness of his lidded eyes. Those eyes, however, opened and beamed toward the center of the starship. A delicate light bloomed behind Archimedes¡¯ eyes, and the boy crawled toward the Skull, slathering a trail of blood from his feet behind him. In just a few minutes, he traversed from the edge of the starship toward the central command. There, the systems were still online, waiting for their owners to return. The instant Arch saw the consoles, tools, and expensive tech, the pain of his bleeding feet vanished. His heart beat with exhilaration, and he dropped his hands to the keyboard below, beginning to break into the Heron¡¯s Wing in a way only he could. Soon, it would belong to him. 53 - The Summertime Jolly Experiments on elevating the level of a sentient have persisted for many millennia. The Martians are the pinnacle, equal to an Anachronism when properly equipped. Yet, humanity created them over a thousand years ago. Has there been zero improvement in this vast time? No. We merely found alternative routes. The flesh has an innate limit without dimensional influence. So, that leaves us with two paths. Steel -> The path of perfecting the fusion of metal and life whilst keeping the soul. And. Water -> The path of imbuing a dimension¡¯s influence into our genomes. Shrieking howls echoed between the snow-filled trees, dropping the dusty cold upon two stumbling figures. One possessed shifting waters as skin, the surface freezing beneath the cold, while her piercing eyes searched for the incoming threats. Beside Hana, Melody¡¯s Miro bolstered both of them, regenerating their lost flesh and broken bones. The latter¡¯s breath came out chilled while she worked, the frost turning into slush and falling to the ground to join the sleet. As they strode through the leftovers of a blizzard, Hana spoke through gritted teeth, ¡°We need to find liquid water. This snow¡­ it¡¯s too cold. I thought this was supposed to be the Inferose? Why is it warm?¡± A brief nod followed her words, yet Melody held onto her own thoughts, ¡°Not sure. But those noises¡­ I think others arrived here before us. The air seems to heat as we walk toward where the ¡®sun¡¯ fell. Maybe¡­ the center is where the inferno is?¡± Neither said another work as a crack snapped beyond the treeline. Both heads whipped toward the noise, holding their breaths while their bodies reached for Tides. Humid air seethed from Melody¡¯s mouth while water stretched along Hana¡¯s tear-ducts, forming into miniature pistols. The next moment, a hooded figure stepped from the shadows, unarmed but uninjured. His long coat hid much of his features and any weapons that might have been underneath. Hana and Melody shared a glance as Friday spoke, his face beneath night¡¯s gloaming, ¡°I see I¡¯ve found two wounded treats. Hmm¡­¡± His hum flew as the man reached for his shotgun and cleaver, only to find one. With a sigh, Friday found the glimmer of the blade insufficient for the two before him. Still, the man stepped closer, capitalizing on weakness. Hana furrowed her frozen brows, staring straight ahead at Friday as memories came to her mind. Hidden whispers, meticulously calculated words, and precise movements. That was all the hints she had heard of this man¡¯s kind. ¡°Church Of Flesh.¡± Hate birthed from Hana¡¯s breath, more bitter than the frigid winds. At the title, Melody¡¯s body flinched, and every muscle went into full alarm. The Miro¡¯s mouth opened, prepared to force her Stigmata into action. Friday chuckled gently, nodding along, ¡°Yes. So what? You know our name. One of them. Do you want an award? Death is all that will come.¡± The Hydro shook her head, demanding an answer, ¡°No. It will not. You won¡¯t fight us here. Too much of a risk. You¡¯ll win with my injuries¡­ that much is certain¡­ but at what price? Instead¡­ tell me why the Church is here.¡± A hood twisted over its bearer, and then, as the distant shrieks grew nearer, the cleaver fell back into its sheath. Friday whispered beneath his hidden facade, ¡°Take a guess. Don¡¯t we all want MDs for the same thing? If you wish to live¡­ do not approach a petal.¡± Then, the man dissolved into the dark forest, leaving Hana and Melody to lose their tension. Both almost fell into the snow as their muscles gave out. The former, walking with faux limbs of hardly liquid water, slammed her back against a tree. Meanwhile, the latter bent over, with hands on her knees. ¡°Fuck!¡± Hana released her fury into the air. Melody could only nod, agreeing with the other¡¯s frustration. ¡°Yeah. Didn¡¯t know the Church was coming. Every member¡­¡± Melody¡¯s voice trailed off as she shuddered, recalling what happened when a Dirge revealed the Church¡¯s presence. They were killed. Permanently. Each member of the hidden organization possessed strength just inferior to a Caesar or a Praetor. Low rumors even said their elites were above that, and that their leader¡­ Was above even that. The biting cold sank into both figures, but that was not the cause for their shivering. Despite their condition and circumstance, neither woman lost their edge. They looked at each other and nodded, speaking in unison. ¡°We¡¯ll kill him.¡± ************************ Outside the confines of the Inferose, two bodies walked through a sizzling forest, the humidity beating into their bodies. The younger of the pair, with blood and electricity sparking from his injuries, waved his hand, signaling rest, while he bent over with a gasp. The older glanced down with a raised brow, ¡°What? We need to get to the battle before it ends!¡± Anomaly 888 nodded, but his breaths defied his will, ¡°Yeah¡­ I know¡­ But¡­ you didn¡¯t get¡­ shot in the fucking neck! Give me a second¡­¡± Dane sighed as he felt compelled to form drops of water to from the Lightsea to cool down the overbearing heat of the rainforest. However, he couldn¡¯t, for such power was stolen back by the bestower.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Creatures moved above the canopy, drawing his attention, yet none pierced the boundary. They stayed out of sight, out of trouble, waiting to scavenge leftovers. The human rubbed his forehead, his fury building at his circumstance. Just before, he was in over his head, about to drown, but he could at least control the water¡¯s flood. Now¡­ Everything was left to this gamble. He had Eight with him, but wounds riddled the teen, weakening him. He looked at the Cryo, stating, ¡°One minute. Then we go. The earth¡¯s tremors are only worsening. I can¡¯t imagine if they realize the Inferose closed what will come. If we miss out¡­¡± Eight groaned as he flicked the air, forcing himself to stand. Then he replied with feigned confidence, ¡°I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t need the minute. What I need is an engineer. I think. It can wait, though. Let¡¯s go.¡± Dante returned a nod before the two resumed their sprint, far slower than when they arrived. Each had their own curses weighing upon them, or in Dante¡¯s case, the lack of one. Regardless, they flocked toward the cataclysmic battle that was unraveling miles away. Pillars of water flew into the air while a grand mist suffocated the surrounding region. Steam exploded as it met ice, and gunshots echoed non-stop like the crackle of lightning. Eight and Dante neared the barrier of sight after only a half hour of running. The two crept around Anathema and Sagebeasts, ensuring they didn¡¯t waste any strength, but when they stood before the wall of mist, they paused. Their eyes met, an unspoken conversation unfolding before both breached the limits. In that same instant, it sank into their flesh, taking pieces from them without their approval. Arido, the devouring mist, cared not for its sustenance. It only ate, ate, and ate some more. ¡°Shit. That hurts!¡± Dante bit his lip at the sudden stroke of agony while Eight clenched his fists tight. Bit by bit, the Tide burrowed into their flesh and stole vitality from them, delivering it to the owner¡¯s machinations. Nonetheless, the two couldn¡¯t stop here. They had to continue. And they did. The pair trudged through the forest, slower than before and beading with sweat, but gradually, they progressed toward the battlefield. Shadows of other figures lingered in the dense fog, but Dante and Eight stayed away from them, doing what they could to conserve every last breath. The half-hour turned into a full hour as they finally emerged from the dense, sweltering forest, slowing with each step. Oppressive heat beat against them, every breath weighed down by the new war between thick humidity and hungry haze that clung to their bodies. It was now that they could see the true battle which had been transpiring for this planet¡¯s fate. The relentless pressure of the Inferose had pressed them forward, but it almost seemed pitiful now. Their aim had been plain: claim the corpse of a fallen Caesar or, if fortune favored them, deliver a final blow to one on their bloody retreat and take it. Yet, as their eyes pushed through the last line of trees, the scene stretched before them was far from what they expected. A tumultuous and perilous battle was expected, but the sheer scale was impossible to realize until one stood before it¡ªa chaotic, deadly dance of powers that held them transfixed. Amidst the devastation, five Caesars surrounded a lone figure. Each Caesar wielded a distinct element with frightening precision. Geist, cloaked in his misty ghosts, was a near-spectral figure at the edge of the clearing, his Domain¡¯s after-effects stretching forward in hungry waves, consuming everything in its path. Across from him, Thanaris let loose a blood-red tsunami, each pulse of crimson liquid crashing forward with a life of its own, splattering and seething with corrosive leftovers. Heated steam filled the space, thrown forth by Suaze, creating an agonizing barrier of burning air. Ice, piercing and sharp as spears, launched from the Wain¡¯s hands, freezing anything it touched before fracturing and shattering. Last was Balba, whose influence drenched the air in relentless humidity, a smothering, regenerating moisture that clung to Dante and Eight as they observed the display. But these five, while powerful, were not the main spectacle. They had arrived together conflicted, but now, they stood together. At the center of this tempest was a woman of striking presence. Praetor Sun¡¯s skin gleamed like burnished metal, her complexion a gray that reflected every ounce of the light she emitted. Her eyes burned with a brilliance that rivaled a sun, each glance a defiant blaze. Even as the five Caesars unleashed their powers upon her, she held her stance, her Domain spreading lazily from her like a guarded storm. The edges of her influence were calculated, stretching sluggishly to keep the Inferose from buckling under the weight of her power. It only bought her time, but beneath the Domain¡¯s technique, she held her own against all five at once. With the help of her Centurions, namely those like Rasa, who risked their lives each second, she crept toward victory. Dante clenched his fists as he observed the scene, the pieces falling into place within his mind. Praetor Sun¡¯s technique was not just a defensive tactic; it bore a ticking bomb. If her Domain reached the location of the Inferose¡ªrecently vacated¡ªits absence would become immediately clear, and every Caesar present would realize that the anchor binding their Domains was missing. Their own Domains would then unravel, crashing down into a chaotic implosion that would turn the battlefield into a slaughterhouse. Dante and Eight would not survive the clash between Domain Collapses. The stakes were terrifyingly clear. Before he could utter a warning to his partner, a sudden shift shattered the balance of attention on the field. Another figure, wrapped in a scintillating aura of electrified water, emerged with a startling presence. The water cloaked his hooded form like armor, sparking and crackling with energy, commanding attention with an almost magnetic force. When his feet touched the ruined earth, the five Caesars turned as one, their focus shifting away from Praetor Sun to this unexpected intruder. The momentary reprieve seemed to sap what little strength the Praetor had left. Dante watched as she swayed, the intense light of her eyes dimming just slightly. This was Claudius¡¯ Praetor. He watched her, curious to the bone, and his vision split to those she brought with her. Worse than her minor fizzle, those around her, the bodies of her fallen Centurions, lay scattered, torn, and broken from their attempts to shield her and assassinate her foes. However, their efforts were not without benefit, as each Caesar¡¯s figure sported numerous wounds. The sole exception was Thanaris, whose blood closed any injury. Dante¡¯s gaze flickered to Eight, and he saw the resolve mirrored in his companion¡¯s eyes before the newest arrival spoke. The aspiration they had come for had grown infinitely more complex. The chaotic, delicate stalemate unfolding before them was a rare opportunity, but equally treacherous. One misstep could throw them into the maelstrom of death. Both briefly considered retreating for now, but the figure, cloaked in water that arced with lightning, removed any such thoughts, ¡°Elize. What a surprise to find you here. The last time we spoke¡­ your home fell from its orbit.¡± Dante took a sharp breath, steeling himself as Praetor Sun froze, her words stuttering and lost in awe, ¡°You¡ªNandum killed you! How did you escape the Nightsphere!?¡± Five Caesars ceased their prepared attack, focusing upon the mysterious man, and they listened to his laugh, ¡°Ah¡­ that. The Drowned Dragon beat me just barely that awful night, and after he died against Seal. Nandum and that damn Oswort¡­ almost got me after killing the gutsy Anadromous. But we have our own Dimensions, too. Lucky Nandum wasn¡¯t the first. And this won¡¯t be the second.¡± Thanaris shouted a moment later, unable to hold back, ¡°Who are you? Are you¡­ with the Church?¡± A laugh echoed as lightning crunched the air, the Nectos meeting gazes, ¡°Hmm¡­ Thanaris. How would you like to join us? I will tell you if you do, for our kind are special. These¡­ fools would never understand.¡± Praetor Sun recovered herself at this moment, interjecting as her Domain spread further and further, encroaching on the region of the Lightsea. She waved away the Dirge, possessing only malice for the unknown man, ¡°This man is Joseph Cross, thought to be killed by Legate Nandum. He forced the Drowned Dragon to a stalemate while the old man¡¯s family was killed. If you wish to live, run as fast as you can, or help me. All Centurions! Escape. Don¡¯t look back. Rasa! Take them!¡± Obscured remnants followed her orders without complaint, but the premier Centurion, who held his ground against Suaze for several minutes on his own, took several seconds before following the decree. He picked up three of his subordinates and ran to the forest at the perimeter. None stopped him, unwilling to risk retaliation at this juncture. Still, a scoff rang out from Geist while Balba sank into the shadows of the destruction beneath them. Wane retreated with caution, and Suaze burned more steam, prepared for a battle with his hot head. The fifth and final Caesar growled as her head stooped. Her past swooned in her mind, bringing up memories that forced an unnatural rage to emerge, ¡°You¡­ You are with Stranger the Nameless, no? You and your Church of madmen and¡ª¡± ¡°Seekers. We call ourselves Seekers Of A Higher Flesh,¡± Joseph interrupted the Anacrux with annoyance, raising his gaze as his arms, too, reached the sky. ¡°All we do is for the higher realms, a higher power, a more glorious purpose. You and your¡­ paltry conflicts mean nothing.¡± The fallen Domain continued to expand, and Dante slinked back, falling behind a mound to hide. He pushed his spine against the debris and murmured, ¡°Get ready, Eight. You¡¯re gonna have to teleport. A lot.¡± Eight nodded, clasping one hand around his open throat. The Lightsea flowed within him, readied for anything. However, sometimes, preparation was less than useless. Thanaris¡¯s Tide surged, a tsunami of blood at her whim while Elize Sunwin¡¯s oceanic whirlpool grew. Suaze, Balba, and Geist even braced themselves for the next round. Joseph grinned under his hood as the lightning in his Tide sparked further, ¡°It seems you¡¯ve made your choice. Time to guarantee my disciple¡¯s claim. Let¡¯s see whose Tide is¡ª¡± His words halted mid-sentence as Praetor Sun¡¯s Domain ceased for a moment, as if sensing the limits of where it could go, then it collapsed upon the entire continent like a spring snapping shut. The Lightsea stretched thousands of miles faster than light itself, and five pairs of hands reached toward their symbols as the Drowned Dragon¡¯s student uttered a simple phrase that held the power to rend a planet. She needed no hand-signs to focus her strength, for the cascade began long ago. ¡°Domain Collapse: My Summertime Jolly.¡± 54 - Her Sanguine Dream Every empire, nation, and republic has its champions¡ªthose who stand at the pinnacle, shielding their people from annihilation. Yet these paragons are not the first called when the abyss yawns wide. Their duties bind them; their power is too vast, too unwieldy for the shadows. Instead, the desperate turn to the unseen. The nameless. Those who walk where survival is not promised, but where hope is a flicker in the dark. They bear no titles, no glory. Only a purpose etched in blood and silence. Some are hallowed names, yes, but not for the missions administered under such gravity. Their Designation is universal, whispered only in the halls of power: R.U.N.E. Forged across empires, trained in disciplines unknown, they answer to no banner but the highest bidder¡ªor the gravest cause. They are the footnote in history, the blade that strikes unseen. And when the world teeters on the edge, they are the hand that steadies it. Even if their sacrifice is the expected result. The planet shuddered as Praetor Sun¡¯s Domain Collapse unfurled, a shockwave radiating out like the blast of a cannon, igniting the landscape with a spreading film of water possessed by a golden light that tore through the dense fog and mist. Every atom within reach rippled as though bending to her will. For a fleeting second, even the monstrous Joseph faltered, a spark of surprise gleaming from under his hood. But then, as the five Caesars dug their heels into the ground, bracing for the cataclysmic wave of energy, Suaze was the first to charge as the resident Thermo. The attacks of steam were the swiftest, beyond the visual ability of a human like Dante or Eight¡¯s oscillating pupils. Furthermore, his reactions were the fastest, and he deduced the real threat was no longer Elize Sunwin and gave up on his Domain Collapse for the time being. A greater danger had arrived. Suaze¡¯s movements were nigh-invisible, trailing afterimages of steam, his arms bursting out forcibly. He moved through the thick Domain with only a minor impairment, slicing through the air toward Joseph with lethality. A coiling cannon of steam emerged and funneled right at the newcomer. Just as Suaze closed the distance, the heat pierced through the atmosphere, aimed at Joseph¡¯s throat. The hooded man didn¡¯t flinch. In a flash, a thin blade of water slithered from his hand, crackling with barely contained fury. Suaze¡¯s eyes widened as he dodged by less than a foot, the sheer speed greater than his. However, before he could retaliate, the blade of water sizzled, and a bolt of static sapphire emerged. Unable to dodge, the stream of lightning reached Suaze¡¯s roiling flesh, the jolt electrifying his entire body and stunning him. He struggled, his breath caught in his throat as he fought to control his movements, but the electricity induced a paralysis. His limbs twitched involuntarily while his grip on the Lightsea waned. The steam that circled him, obscuring his body and granting him unmatched speed, vanished. Suaze bit his teeth, forcing his hands to meet from sheer focus. At that same moment, the evaded blade of water swerved mid-air, guided by Joseph¡¯s mind. A sharp sound cut through the battlefield, and Suaze¡¯s head tilted slightly as the watery blade completed its arc. His head fell, decapitated in a clean, precise stroke, his lifeless body crashing to the ground with a last spark. Dust rose from his high fall, marking it clear as day for all to see. His death echoed across the field, and the Caesars froze, shocked at the sheer ease with which he had fallen. More than that, however. Two pairs of eyes watched with slack fear. They couldn¡¯t run anymore. That was a long-lost chance. At the death of a lifelong rival, Balba¡¯s retreat shifted. He no longer retreated. Instead, he turned and faced Joseph, ¡°You killed him. He was my prey!¡± Balba¡¯s roar stabbed the air as he launched himself forward. His entire being buzzed with humidity, a thin film of water radiating from his muscular frame. He moved with unmatched speed, his fists clenched as he dove toward Joseph¡¯s unfazed form. His movements tore the air around him as he moved even faster than Suaze a moment prior, a blur of motion hurtling through the battlefield. Just as his fist neared its mark, inches from Joseph¡¯s chest, the Tianshe lifted a palm. With the simple movement, a sudden shimmer of water surrounded Joseph like an ethereal shield. Balba¡¯s punch collided with the water barrier. Upon impact, however, the liquid changed states, transforming instantly into a dense, rolling vapor. The steam engulfed him, crackling with an intense azure that licked at his skin. Within a single moment, the steam morphed, charged with countless volts of electricity that surged through Balba¡¯s body. He let out a strangled scream as his body convulsed, his skin sizzling under the barrage of energy. His fists flailed as he tried to retreat, but the steam wrapped tighter around him, unyielding as some of it shifted back into liquid. A laugh resounded through the air as a grand palm of crackling water condemned a Caesar to his death, ¡°Fools. How predictable.¡± The scent of burning flesh filled the air as Balba fell, his skin charred and blackened. His body hit the ground, smoke curling from his form as he lay still, defeated. Survival was unknown. Another Caesar had fallen, and the remaining warriors felt the brutal weight of realization settle over them. The remaining Caesars, Thanaris, Geist, Wain, and Praetor Sun exchanged a quick, grim look. Their histories and rivalries meant nothing now. They would have to stand together or face obliteration. However, they were not idle during Suaze and Balba¡¯s strikes. Joseph may have possessed the sky, but two owned the ground. Praetor Sun¡¯s hands glowed, channeling her Domain¡¯s effects into the whirlpool she had formed. The light within her eyes grew brighter and more blinding as her waters took it and magnified it, reflecting it countless times until it funneled the might of her Domain Collapse into a single, concentrated point.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The depths of her whirlpool held the accumulated force that only continued to amount. She stepped forward, moving her concentric waves and raising her hand. Alongside her, Thanaris summoned forth her Unnatural Tide, its thick, roiling waves gathering power, each ripple an extension of her rage. The two women stood with a line demarcated between each other. Crimson met blinding waters and stared up at the azure horror. Less patient than the Praetor, Thanaris launched her tsunami of blood toward Joseph, the wave transforming into tendrils that spiraled around him, binding his movements. Geist followed suit, his spectral mist weaving between the coils of blood, a dark fog that clawed at Joseph¡¯s skin like ghostly hands, siphoning away his energy. Yet, as the three fell into unison, the fourth scoffed and turned tail. With a short wave of frost, Wain abandoned the battle, ¡°I¡¯m not dying today. Nor am I enraging the Church. Goodbye, Joseph.¡± Elize turned her head to stare at the retreating plane of ice, accelerating Wain into the atmosphere above. The Anacrux was escaping, and no one could stop her. The Praetor let out a low hiss, ¡°Fucking Dirge.¡± Joseph¡¯s low, mocking voice cut through the chaos. ¡°What a team! Two dead and one running? Let¡¯s see how long you three last.¡± The spectators, Dante and Eight shared a glance, contemplating rushing for Suaze or Balba¡¯s bodies, but both knew such was a straight path to the other shore. Instead of leaping to their dooms, they set their eyes on Geist, waiting for a moment to strike. He was already missing his Domain Collapse, after all. Dante heard the news from Hana¡¯s offhanded comment. With all they had seen, neither accurately anticipated the battle between monsters. That is what they were. Praetor Sun, the Stroke of Impossible. Thanaris, the Sanguine Dream. Geist, Ghost Of The Damned. And finally, the banished Praetor, long thought dead, Joseph Cross. The Lightning Wraith. All were monsters. It was three-on-one, with a Domain Collapse already consuming the planet, but Joseph Cross held no fear. With a sudden surge of power, he expanded his Tide, a storm of electrified water that pushed back against the blood, mist, and light encircling him. Thanaris¡¯ blood torn apart, Geist¡¯s ghostly spirits burst apart by lightning, and Praetor¡¯s waves compressed from the collision. The energies clashed with violent intensity, the very ground cracking and buckling under the strain. Joseph¡¯s Tide transformed, shaping into hundreds of hovering fluid spears that lashed out, striking at each of his opponents with ruthless accuracy. Geist staggered back, his spectral mist scattering to only cover his body under the relentless barrage. Thanaris gritted her teeth as one spear struck her, her blood coagulating around the wounds to heal. Even Praetor Sun was forced to shield herself, her inflating light flickering under the force of the onslaught. But they held their ground, relentless, refusing to yield to the monstrous force before them. Worse yet, Joseph¡¯s hands moved toward his center, taking his sign for focus. The tips of all ten fingers held their counterparts before the shortest two folded, holding against each other with their backs. Elize¡¯s gaze hardened as Thanaris and Geist immediately dived again, this time working in tandem. A river of blood entangled the Arido, protecting him from the paralyzing waters. Under the assault, the Lightning Wraith spoke with confidence as the energy built within his frame, gradually reaching a point that shook the air, ¡°I know your Domain, Elize. I can¡¯t let it build up. Otherwise, it would be near your mentor¡¯s power. Allow¡­ me to stop you.¡± Geist¡¯s visage blurred from within the bloodied current, and with Thanaris¡¯ protection, he managed to reach a few feet from Joseph. With a twist of his hand, a hundred spirits burst from their hidden places, and a fog followed. The devouring mist dove into the electrified gas as blood washed away the defensive fluid. Still, the currents of lightning delved through the river, thrashing toward Thanaris. However, with her adept control, she grounded the crimson, preventing it from injuring her further. Nearby, Praetor Sun observed the scene, concentrating her all on her Fused Domain¡¯s effect, which melded her Stigmata and Tide into one. But as her eyes followed Gesis¡¯s attack, she realized it would not be enough. Her gaze fell, falling to thoughts of the child that was handed to her long ago by her mentor. The old man who bestowed her wisdom and power had neglected his own family, leaving them with only his wealth, as they had minor talents. It was such a shame that shortly after the little Seer was born, Gaius gave his life, burning it all away to match a Legate and drive away the evil his family had called. Elize shut her eyes as Joseph spoke, an aura bursting from within his clasped fingers. She knew how dangerous it was, for she had fought it before. Automatic Domains were the fodder-killers, unable to truly counter those who had their own Domains. But right now... Geist had none, and he escaped her protection. The arrogant bastard thought his defenses would be enough. ¡°Domain Collapse: Lightning Wraith.¡± The border of Joseph¡¯s Domain inched from his body at a blistering speed, battling Elize¡¯s for dominion over the planet. As a Domain was most assertive at its origin, he effortlessly pushed her control back and consumed Geist into his reach. A bolt of lightning arced for Geist¡¯s glabella, seeking to eviscerate his brain. The azure leaped from the water, yet before it struck the Anacrux, a beam of light pierced through the haze. The thunderous boom from the radiance leveled the surrounding forests, leaving the spectators teleporting for their lives. Pale light met oceanic lightning, and they exploded. The air turned to plasma, such was the incredible heat. Bodies flew through the air, with both Dante and Eight hurling away from the battlefield. The two struggled to regain their orientation as the winds only grew in power, such was the cataclysm. Yet Geist, at the epicenter of the collision, had it the worst. Half of his body ripped apart from the guaranteed hit, with the light only partially defending him. Swirling mist burst from his insides as he bounced across the planet¡¯s surface, every impact scraping more life from him. Dante¡¯s eyes, through the constant teleportations that left Eight gasping for air and hardly able to stand, noticed the Anacrux¡¯s lethal injuries. He also saw his course, for it was toward the two. Now, however, only two stood against Joseph. Praetor Sun heaved oxygen through her lungs as she scoured the hazy sky, finding Joseph through the debris. The man¡¯s right arm burned through his dark clothes, and his hood finally pulled back from the impact, revealing a middle-aged man with a scarred smile. He ripped his functioning arm back while the other hung limp and laughed, ¡°Is that all, Elize!? Have you grown weaker? Or am I stronger?¡± Thanaris growled beside Praetor Sun, glancing over at her. The Anacrux spoke simply, ¡°We can¡¯t let him have the Inferose. My... pupils are in there.¡± Despite her recent detonation of power, Elize Sunwin nodded; however, she was skeptical. She returned the Sanguine Dream¡¯s thoughts, ¡°As are mine. How far are you willing to go, Thanaris?¡± Joseph fell to the ground, lashes of water delivering him to a level plane of the ruined forest with his two opponents. Against his confidence, Thanaris hesitated for a moment. Then she remembered the runt she had raised these past few years and found her resolve. Selfishness had been ingrained in her being since birth. She had been downright despicable. But those tiny eyes she had found a year ago brought her sanity back to the once stable back she herself looked up to. The higher minds could still control her, yet she was a puppet no longer. Those like Wain or Suaze with lesser potential weren¡¯t as strictly manipulated. Those like Thanaris and Astraeus were different. They could rise high. Higher than those above would wish. However, she could overpower the restrictions on one condition. She had to stake her life as she said with a brief lull, ¡°I... I am willing to die this evening.¡± Elize¡¯s eyes widened, and Joseph guffawed, raising a hand toward Thanaris, ¡°You are willing to die? For a Frigo? Are you ill? How stupid. I thought you were clever.¡± Praetor Sun shook her head with a sigh, but her Domain suddenly regained its tempo. Both Domains held each other at a standstill, shocking all eyes. The Tianshe¡¯s teeth slashed against their counterparts as she took one step through her whirlpool toward Joseph, ¡°She is not stupid. She has found something, someone worth dying for. There is no greater purpose. I am the same. I cannot allow that young man inside the Inferose to die. Furthermore, I was not sent here expecting to make it back in one piece. Shall we dance, Miss Sanguine Dream? As allies?¡± Thanaris presented a nod just as Joseph stole ground, stepping right up to Praetor Sun. He glared into her eyes, finding her words to be futile, ¡°Hmm? Do you wish to die today as well? I thought you would save your power for later, given how tumultuous the Empires are. You could live that cushy life for several more centuries like most Praetors. Or you could join me if you truly desire power. Quit these foolish death wishes.¡± The depths of Elize¡¯s eyes lost their spark for a beat. She saw through Joseph¡¯s words. It was not mere derision. The man was scared. Of her. Of what she could do when she no longer cared for her life. After all¡­ it was her late teacher that created the Fifth Limit within the Empire. She did not receive his bloodline talent, but she did harbor his will. With a flash to Gaius in her mind, her light subsided, revealing her calm face as if asserting her resolve, ¡°I¡¯d rather live a thousand lives as a fool than breathe a single breath as a tyrant.¡± Alongside Praetor Sun, the Dirge that fought with her stepped up, fingers interlacing and chanting. Once more, the planet shook as the deep crimson intertwined with the azure and the radiant alabaster, staining the continent. In the distance, running for his life, Dante looked back, seeing a vibrant, illusory moon form above Thanaris. With a nod of thanks, he turned back to Eight just as the teen displaced them further away. Both crashed into the ground, witnessing Geist collapse a dozen feet away. Before either could stand, the skies spoke once more as the planet divided into thirds. ¡°Domain Collapse: Sanguine Dream.¡± 55 - The First Sunrise ¡°Negative Tides?¡± Archimedes murmured, his fingers tracing the open page of the book left on the Skull¡¯s pilot desk. The words shimmered like forbidden knowledge, far beyond his fledgling mastery. ¡°Turn Frigo from defensive to disruptive? Thermo into clinging instead of evasive? How is it possible for Miro to be contagious?¡± His genius mind raced, but the void of ignorance loomed large. Knowledge couldn¡¯t be conjured from nothing. With a sigh, he closed the book¡ªClaudius¡¯s book, marked by a single underline beneath Hydro¡¯s Negative Release. The secrets would have to wait. A deep, bloody crimson painted the sky, stretching across a third of the horizon. Above, the illusory moon loomed, casting a nightmarish glow over the planet, staining the ruins and bodies below in a sinister light. Sanguine Dream. No longer hampered by the presence of the Inferose¡¯s gates, Thanaris¡¯s Domain had fully unfolded, its effect so vast that even the distant sky trembled under its influence. The crimson moon pulsed, radiating waves of energy that seemed to reach into the planet¡¯s very core, saturating the air with a thick, unsettling aura. The ground cracked and heaved, veins of red energy splitting the terrain as the Domain extended its reach, a bleeding net cast over the world. All this profound energy built up between the heavens and the earth below before redirecting it all like the blood within an organism. Mountains of vitality rushed into Thanaris¡¯ body, setting her bones, clearing all injuries, and propping up her spine. The sky, earth, and everything in between now belonged to one of three reigns. That of the Sanguine Dream, the Lightning Wraith, or the Summertime Jolly. Thick, congealed crimson mixed alongside a brilliant radiance, combining their efforts to stand against the electrified tsunami. Dante and Eight felt the reverberations of power long before the wave reached them. They braced themselves, muscles taut and senses on edge as they watched the sky split in two, one side a burning white and the other a deadly red. The two fought against their own legs to rise and attack Geist, who was only a short distance away. To their twinned dismay, with Thanaris and Praetor Sun¡¯s combined efforts, reality shook. Their legs gave out, and both fell to the ground as Geist, too, struggled to regain any movement. Even so, the worst had only just begun. The tremors from the Domain Collapse intensified, and a deafening rattle echoed as Joseph¡¯s Domain clashed with Thanaris and Praetor Sun¡¯s. A burst of light erupted, consuming the air and forcing Dante and Eight to shield their eyes. Then, with a final, ground-shattering shockwave, an enormous collision sent them all tumbling through the ruined forest once more, crashing into twisted roots and splintered branches as they struggled to orient themselves. Dante felt a tree break upon his spine, flipping him over before he finally slammed into the dirt, spitting up the air in his lungs. Tinges of red emerged alongside the flecks of air. Despite the pain and spreading numbness, Dante forced himself up, only to see Geist sprawled nearby, his spectral form flickering, parts of his body shredded by the onslaught. The near-fatal strike from Joseph on top of the constant hammering from the Domains left Geist severely weakened, his ghostly form crackling with instability. But even injured, the Ghost Of The Damned exuded a deadly aura, his eyes blazing with fury as he, too, fought for his survival. This was the moment. Dante met Eight¡¯s gaze, a brief, unspoken understanding passing between them. They couldn¡¯t let Geist recover¡ªnot while he was this vulnerable. After gathering every ounce of his limited strength, Dante climbed to his knees, fists clenching as he crawled toward the ghostly marauder. Each step felt like walking against an ocean¡¯s current as the distant battle unwound into more instability. Eight reached Geist first, his Stigmata delivering him right behind the Anacrux. Without a moment of hesitance, Eight conjured four thin blades of ice, each one intended to finish Geist¡¯s fading form. The sudden movement of Eight surprised Geist as he staggered back, his hazy hand reaching out in desperate retaliation. Were his movements not compromised by his grievous wounds, Eight¡¯s strikes would have meant nothing. But he was knocking on the pale coffin. Two daggers sunk into Geist¡¯s impossible flesh before the Anacrux retaliated, his spare hand swiping across Eight¡¯s face. Chunks of flesh evaporated from the teen¡¯s skull, leaking out copious blood, but Eight entered this forest prepared to die. Not an ounce of fear penetrated his mind as Eight slipped under Geist¡¯s guard, delivering a powerful kick that sent Geist tumbling. The spike on the Cryo¡¯s boot caught on Geist¡¯s hand, consumed by the Arido as the Anacrux¡¯s flesh rekindled with the stolen vitality. While rolling across the dirt, spectral hands flew like claws, catching Eight by the shoulder, digging in with ghostly talons. Eight gasped, struggling against the paralyzing cold of Geist¡¯s voracious grip. The young man fought to pry himself free, but Geist tightened his hold, a cruel grin forming on his battered face. Dante swung the shotgun from his back, pulling the trigger without hesitation. However, something seemed to be missing as the weapon sputtered. As if refusing to fire with such a lackluster owner, a heartbeat resounded within it in anger. The human cursed as the situation worsened. ¡°Not so fast, runt,¡± Geist rasped, his voice laced with a venomous sneer. ¡°With your life, I can¡ª¡± Dante ignored the taunt as he advanced, focusing on the tiny sliver of ice within his body, a remnant from the Surewinter technique he had narrowly harnessed. He couldn¡¯t activate it through any traditional methods. After all, the Lightsea utterly ignored him. However, he needed strength. Right here. Right now. It didn¡¯t matter the damage dealt. The years shaved off meant nothing. At this second, Dante cared for one thing. Power. The power to fight back. A power that was his. Power that couldn¡¯t be stolen. Just a bit of the stored frozen crystals was a risky gambit. Without access to the Lightsea, he couldn¡¯t accurately purify and wash the energy. Yet... Dante¡¯s mind flicked back to a scarce few hours ago. Eight had stared up at the sky, proclaiming the life of a Loveless Bird. Once they enter the sky, they either reach their goal. Or they die the instant they touch the ground. The vast Domains surrounding Dante merely added to his resolve. He plucked his thumb out with one hand, bashing it against his heart while chanting the Surewinter activation hymn. Those who had mastered the technique needed their minds and nothing else to call upon its strength. However, without an ounce of the Lightsea¡¯s favor, a man like Dante had to do more. He wasn¡¯t even sure if it would work. But as he watched Eight¡¯s life siphoned away, the young man treading toward his death for the second time this day, Dante made sure it would. A thin blade slipped from his hand, delving through his flesh and into the icy crystal that sat in front of his heart. Surewinter built countless manifestations throughout the body, yet there were up to three cores of the technique, one for each stage. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Between his will, the knife, and the rushing agony in his body, Surewinter heeded his call. The frost ignited. An inch from his heart, the crystal he had painfully built over the past few months cracked, the power seeping through his veins. Misty frost crept along his arm, turning his skin pale and cold, the chill biting down to the bone. Dante felt the pain of frostbite directly as his skin cracked and blistered. But he clenched his jaw, pushing through, forcing the rush to sustain itself. A feeble, tiny passage to the Lightsea¡¯s icy depths had been made inside the crystalline core. It would never be enough to return his Stigmata or Tide, but Dante had lived twenty-six years without either. He could fight without such things. Dante would make this last as long as he could, pulling out every molecule of energy he could. The human stopped five feet from Geist while Eight scrambled for survival. The teen fought tooth and nail, summoning countless blades that were swiftly devoured. Geist¡¯s eyes narrowed, his attention shifting from Eight to Dante with the sudden emergence of Surewinter. His frustration grew as he flicked one hand toward the human, ¡°You! I knew you were hiding it!¡± Dante¡¯s eyes opened to the sound of coursing wind, and he raised his right arm, focused on drawing out the icy fragments within his flesh. An instant before Geist¡¯s devouring claw reached him, the crystals within Dante¡¯s flesh detonated in sharp, violent bursts. The frost exploded from his arm like glass, dispersing the hazy attack. With the simple movement, Dante¡¯s right arm hung limply, a massive chunk of flesh wrenched open like a grotesque flower. Geist and Dante immediately shared a glance as the former recognized the mangled technique¡¯s potency, and the latter began anew. The human named this brutal technique Deadwinter in his mind, knowing the price it demanded, yet resolved to see it through. Dante strode forward, flashing his left arm outward. Geist flinched to evade, yet nothing came. Instead, Eight gathered his willpower and Dived once more, appearing beside Dante as he spat out several curses, ¡°Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Whatever the hell I am, it¡¯s a good thing. He can¡¯t take from the half-alive. Don¡¯t let him touch you. His Arido is strongest up close. Makes sense why the dumb-fuck tried to get in close with that monster.¡± Whether or not he meant to, Eight¡¯s ability to enrage others sparked Geist¡¯s inner flame. With a roar, the Anacrux forced himself to stand now that some of his life had returned, ¡°Breathing-Metal. It seems Vicar broke the pact. Argh... You won¡¯t escape this, demon!¡± Against Geist¡¯s fury, the human and unknown being nodded toward each other. As the skies shook, the former spoke under his breath, ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. I can¡¯t keep this thing up for long. Neither can he. All in, Eight.¡± The Cryo nodded, evaporating into the air with his dwindling reserves. Geist glanced behind him, but Eight¡¯s figure formed above him, crashing down. Dante lurched forward, too, with bursts of agonizing rime splitting apart his body. He ground his teeth while preparing another detonating. While Eight¡¯s blades flicked out, launching a rapid flurry of strikes, Geist¡¯s spectral claws slashed back, leaving trails of cold mist as they barely missed the vanished Eight. The single conflict, however, left the boy on the ground and gasping for breath, just as Dante followed up. A flurry of bloody icicles blitzed Geist, slamming into his back. Mist blossomed from the Anacrux¡¯s body, Geist¡¯s unique ichor, as he stumbled forward with a howl. But he didn¡¯t slow even as his body grew more see-through, leaping for Eight while the boy recovered. Dante kicked with all his strength while both arms hung slack, rushing to save the Cryo. Yet neither reached Eight as an earthquake alongside a whirlwind of pressure sent them all flying again. The fateful breeze hurled the three out of the destroyed forest and toward the regions where some life still held on. Not for long, however, as each body collided with a different tree. All sputtered gasps of air before they finally hit the ground. On the ground, Dante tallied his condition. He counted almost every bone in his arms as broken, three ribs splintered, and his collarbone shattered. The human¡¯s skull carried on with a bruise over his eyes. However, each breath leaving his lungs did so with a kaleidoscope of frosty blood-flakes. His eyes flashed around, spotting Eight impaled on a tree branch. Dante winced, empathizing with the spike through the kid¡¯s gut. Despite such brutal trauma, the Cryo hadn¡¯t fallen unconscious from the pain and, instead, thrashed against the branch that held him. One had to give it to him. Eight was a tough little bastard. Yet none of it mattered as Dante noticed Geist. The Anacrux¡¯s right arm sat against a tree trunk while the man himself wobbled toward Dante. His remaining hand¡¯s fingers splayed out, ¡°Human. That... makes sense. Give me your life. Then, I can rejoin them! That damn Thanaris can¡¯t have all the rewards!¡± Dante gazed up at Geist, the man faltering with each step. No matter the injuries, however, the bastard refused to die, and Dante was the same. Before Geist could arrive at his tree, he brute-forced his way through the frostbite growing on his arms. The ruptured muscles, torn ligaments, and exploded vessels meant nothing to his force of will. Crystals shifted in his flesh, reentering his arms with spurting blood as the human thrust his hands together. It was a final gambit. But before his palms struck each other, a crackle of a broken plant echoed. Geist and Dante both turned their heads, spotting an approaching figure¡ªRasa, staggering forward with half of his torso missing, the raw flesh of his side exposed. Despite the gore, his eyes blazed with relentless purpose, and in his remaining hand, he clutched the limp body of a man dressed in the robes of the Church. Dante¡¯s eyes widened in recognition as he saw the hood. Another of the Church, dead in Rasa¡¯s grip. Praetor Sun¡¯s second possessed strength not too distant from a Praetor himself. He was a Centurion far beyond most of his peers¡ªone of the few Milarions. While an unofficial title, such did not mean it carried no weight. Geist hesitated, his form flickering as he processed the unexpected arrival. Rasa¡¯s existence changed the situation. Rasa¡¯s voice was low, rasping from the strain, ¡°You did well, Eight. I see why Praetor Sun found you interesting.¡± Dante seized the momentary pause, focusing inward, his battered arms trembling as he coaxed out the last fragments of his dwindling Surewinter. Dante¡¯s previous burst had been hasty, but now, with time, he carefully worked to boost its power while avoiding further injury to his arms. His frostbitten hands had nearly lost sensation, but he forced his fingers to move, grinding against the necrotic tissue and pushing the last of the icy shards through his veins. A biting chill spread through his muscles, a last surge of strength igniting within him as the crystals sharpened, primed to detonate. All that they needed was an external impact. The human never neglected his training on Surewinter, but he found the true usefulness of the technique now. As the frost tore him apart, he swore that he¡¯d study it further and many other methods like it. With Geist¡¯s attention fixed on evading Rasa¡¯s sweeping whip of water, Dante felt his chance. He forced his body up in a labored, agonizing motion as he braced himself against the tree behind him. Rasa, dropping the dead Church follower, met Geist¡¯s gaze with a scornful calm, his words cutting through the tense silence, ¡°You Dirge... Fucking Church. All my brothers and sisters are dead. Because of you. And your kind. And soon... so will my Praetor.¡± Geist¡¯s face twisted with rage, mists swirling around him as he gathered his Tide. With only one arm intact, the Anacrux lunged toward Rasa, translucent flesh morphing into sharp, toxic tendrils aimed to tear the Tianshe apart. But the Centurion was ready, his eyes cold and primed for death, channeling his own Tide to meet Geist¡¯s Arido. A whip of water lashed out from Rasa¡¯s remaining arm, striking Geist by slipping between his fog¡¯s densest parts. The liquid twisted, forming a chain that wrapped around Geist¡¯s throat. The Anacrux lurched as Rasa hauled him closer. ¡°Soon, I will have to train that kid alone,¡± Rasa mused, his voice steady and forlorn. ¡°Her connections will collapse. He won¡¯t have her protection anymore. Which is why... I have to... kill you all!¡± Rasa kicked out with his right leg as Geist wrenched his body against the water manacle. The Milarion¡¯s foot cloaked itself in dense waves before diverging, slicing through the air with blinding speed. Geist barely dodged, the concentrated edge grazing his shoulder and sending a shudder through his ethereal form. Several dozen feet away, impaled on a tree, Eight gathered the last of his energy. He only had it in him for one final Dive. The past half-hour had been him delving into recesses he didn¡¯t believe he had. At this moment, however, he knew this was it as blood dripped from his body and sparks struck out from the cavity in his gut. While closing his eyes, he forced the Lightsea to obey him. He Dived. However, he didn¡¯t land beside Dante or Rasa. The Cryo crashed to the ground beneath his tree, face against dirt. Blood poured from the gaping wound, but Eight forced himself up, staggering toward Geist, unwilling to leave his fate to another. While Rasa held Geist, the Centurion¡¯s own body wobbling from his previous battle, Dante saw his opening and pivoted to face the Arido. The crystals in his flesh aligned, and his vision lost its peripheral, leaving only his central vision. And yet... even that was dimming. A trio of near-death men closed in on Geist from all sides. Dante wobbled, barely on his feet, while Rasa flailed his whip outward, and Eight flung a freezing dagger. Geist twisted, dodging the dagger, and raised his own Tide to cleave Rasa¡¯s chain. Arido met Hydro in an open contest, mist against water. The manacle sizzled from a grasping maw of acidic haze, both locked in a struggle for domination. Meanwhile, Eight lunged ahead, his feeble body bearing two knives for Geist¡¯s soul. With such restriction on his movement, Geist could only evade one, and the other sank into his shoulder. The Anacrux howled in pain, yet his entire body burst with a swarming haze, enveloping Eight. Rasa shouted, dragging Geist with his remaining strength, ¡°Eight! Get out!¡± Dante witnessed the fog overtake Eight, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the remnants of Surewinter within him. A rush of terrible force flicked his eyes open as the human finally brought his arms together with a deafening shriek. Deadwinter, Dante¡¯s on-the-spot creation, brutalized his flesh, destroying much of what lingered and leaving behind splayed muscle and bone. In exchange, however... The ice that made his flesh its home exploded out of his body all at once with the speed of an unseen bullet. A trail of wind followed the double-fist-sized projectile, and it pierced the dense fog. A howl of agony echoed through the soon-to-be-leveled forest as the shroud dispersed. Dante¡¯s gambit lodged into Geist¡¯s chest, forcing the Anacrux to drop his prey. Before the teen even hit the ground, he returned for his retribution by rotating his lithe figure. With blood and sparks leaking, Eight sank two knives into Geist¡¯s ankles and contorted his body. In the split second of Geist¡¯s shock from icicles spreading in his innards, the Cryo wrapped his limbs over his tormentor. ¡°Rasa!¡± Eight spoke a single word, but the Centurion was not one to be left behind. Rasa already stomped his boot on the ground before Geist, his hand snapping his prey forward. Geist lurched with the weight of Eight on his back, and through his wounds, he couldn¡¯t stop his own momentum. He had wasted his Domain for an advantage in finding the Inferose, slipping some of his Ghosts through, but that cost him dearly. Furthermore, with the near-fatal injury from Joseph, Geist could only watch as a spiked gauntlet approached his vision. A second later, water slammed a face into the dirt. Then again and again. Geist took three more strikes before his translucent body lost shape. Not even a departing curse came from the Anacrux as his figure decomposed into the Lightsea. Then Rasa fell onto his ass, collapsing from his triple rounds of battles. First, he aided his Praetor, then he desperately fought to save his fellow Centurions, and after failing them all, he found these three here. With a gasp, he held the scorched nub that remained of his left arm and gazed up at the sky canopy above while Eight and Dante crashed to the earth. The Milarion spoke, sure of what would come, ¡°Take it, human. You owe me. That means you owe Claudius. He told me about you. Made me promise not to tell Praetor Sun. I do not make promises lightly.¡± Dante struggled on the ground, fighting his torn nerves and muscles to reach even a kneel, yet his face flipped to Rasa in surprise. Centurions, especially those as close to their Praetor as Rasa, follow their leader in every act. They are their right hand, their lungs, their heart. Also, Anacruxes could be used for countless opportunities, from weapons forged from their essences to rare tools capable of collapsing the Lightsea. Corpses typically evaporated too swiftly to give to a person, so with the difficulty of taming such a soul, few had ever been consumed. However, such items were legendary and well-known. And yet... Rasa refused the potential power or profit. He ignored Dante¡¯s existence. He thought only of the sunny figure that had raised him and the boy he had sworn to protect. ¡°She will die today. I had hoped she wouldn¡¯t. But... Mother is too prideful. We both love the kid too much,¡± Rasa¡¯s breaths left his lungs in tense heaves as tears fell down his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s... like a little, annoying brother to me. Never could beat him in a game of cards... Take the Qualae. And run. If she loses after putting her life on the line... there was never any hope to begin with.¡± The eyes of the Centurion and the human met. Dante stared into Rasa¡¯s gray pupils, finding a man prepared to die in the reflection. Water coalesced around Rasa¡¯s flesh, closing his wounds and preventing him from bleeding. However, Rasa wasn¡¯t finished fighting for the day. His Praetor had come to this planet readied for the pure lands. As such, so was he. With a nod, Dante crawled forward, inching toward the vaporizing corpse of Geist. As he did so, Rasa delivered one final warning as the Tianshe¡¯s eyes followed the tremors in the sky, ¡°Eight. You¡¯ll have to carry him out. A normal one would knock ¡®em out for hours. If it was anyone else... I¡¯d wager his death before his survival.¡± Dante heard the warning but ignored it. The man¡¯s organs were in total disarray. He had, at most, a few hours before he¡¯d bleed out from his arms and his hemorrhaging. He at least lucked out with Rasa¡¯s appearance, or else, at the minimum, he¡¯d have lost both arms. Instead, they were just terribly maimed. Yet it was those disfigured arms that crawled forward, dragging him inch by inch, passing Eight¡¯s equally mangled form until he fell beside Geist. One trembling hand, missing half its fingers, landed upon the deceased Anacrux. Then, a mind touched the limitless ocean for the first time. 56 - Adopted Rank Three figures sat at a circular table, gathered for the first time since they last attempted to kill each other in war. Oswen sat with folded hands, his curved blade of legend sheathed at his side. Across from him were his old friends. And enemies. Archon Waltz, with his four flintlocks that arced with a different Tide across his waist and chest like a pirate of yore, laughed at the sight of their third. Boundless Nails of Glaniece had her long mane of hair tied up in a knot and her hands covered with gloves of alabaster porcelain. As the other two had their weapons sheathed, so to did she. They glanced at each other sighed all at once. They had fought many times, and as the two non-Romans met their counterpart, they saw what he had been through. The Great Darkness had changed him. It had nearly broken him. And yet he remained. He. Did. Not. Break. Instead, he received a promotion, a new tag added onto his Designation. Vicar himself had sent him a memo. But though he was told to keep it to himself, the swordsman had truly changed from the rigid man of yesteryear. ¡°A revolution is coming to the Empires. Gather your people. MDs are the future.¡± The wounded human¡¯s body descended into a whole-body seizure, starting from his toes and ending at the rolling whites of his eyes. Eight cursed beside him, dragging himself with an azure dagger, ¡°Fuck. Why couldn¡¯t these things last longer than a few minutes?¡± Across the clearing, Centurion Rasa chuckled, the leaking blood squeezed inside his body by his Hydro. The Tianshe grasped onto a tree, hauling himself to his feet as he answered the rhetorical question, ¡°So they can reincarnate. At least, that¡¯s what Praetor Sun believes. Go on. Hide.¡± ¡°Pfft. Do you think we¡¯re hiding from this? Hell no,¡± Eight scoffed as he shook his head, tying the convulsing man onto his back with an icy harness. ¡°I¡¯m Diving into the Inferose when we get back to it. Nowhere is safe on this planet.¡± Rasa¡¯s gaze narrowed upon Eight¡¯s form, and understanding dawned. The current belief of Congress was that Anomaly 888, an odd Designation on its own, possessed mere teleportation as his Stigmata. That alone was incredible, especially with how freely he could use it and his ability to include others. However... ¡°It¡¯s not teleportation, is it?¡± A stern voice demanded an answer. Eight shrugged, shivering as he stole a few syringes from Dante¡¯s pockets. He injected two into each of them before sighing with relief, ¡°Does it matter?¡± A firm nod met Eight as the teen relished in Joan¡¯s rejuvenating fluids. His flesh reknitted at a visible pace, sealing the most dire of wounds. He wouldn¡¯t recover to his peak, or even close, but he no longer had to worry about bleeding out. The boy would, however, fill his mind with the woes of the non-living parts of his body. Nonetheless, with his damaged vision, Rasa thought Eight merely had mechanical augments, not that he was a machine. The Centurion thought only of the Anomaly¡¯s future and that of the past. Rasa turned and faced the distant battlefield that intensified with each passing moment. Currents of air burst into the atmosphere, visible to all who cared to look up and audible to all with ears. Elize Sunwin¡¯s adopted son let out a mournful gasp of air, ¡°Stigmata have endless potential. Some are unlucky, earning a simple boon to their muscle like me. Praetor Sun turned a simple light into a radiant solar flare. Others... Like Yarnen and yourself, possess dominion over space itself. Do not squander your potential with frivolities, boy.¡± The words from the man forced Eight¡¯s callous expression to distort. A light frown fell onto the boy¡¯s lips as Rasa limped away, heading toward his mother. ¡°You don¡¯t know me. I... I don¡¯t know me,¡± Eight whispered to himself, with none able to hear him other than his own ears. Rasa had already left, his back a fading silhouette. With a deepening grimace, Eight twisted his body, dragging the human over a foot taller than his juvenile form across the forest. Each step enunciated itself with a falling tear, splashing upon the scattered leaves below. The droplets evaporated by the searing heat of the forest in mere moments, leaving no trace other than the boy¡¯s solemn footprints. What am I doing? Here? I... Eight scoured his memories, wishing for anything to come through and make sense, but nothing did. All he found was that egg, hidden beyond the endless repetitions of death. One step. One after another, he continued. As Dante¡¯s body swelled with heat, his blood trailing onto Eight, the young man carried on. His eyes pierced outside the forest, locking onto the Inferose. One of those. Maybe not this one... but I can feel it. One of them has the answer. The Inferose... I still feel the connection. Eight extended one arm with great difficulty as if holding onto a thread. Then, he tightened his palm. His vision widened in a fraction of a second. Space split, a kaleidoscope of lights inundating his receptors as he, too, vibrated. Something deep within him burst outward like a blade, severing through space and leaving a rope behind. The ground beneath the two men vanished, and they escaped the bounds of the planet. ************************ After the sprouts of potential departed, Rasa trudged on, gradually increasing in speed as his prodigious control over his Tide reconstructed his organs. The Milarion had lackluster Stigmata, providing augmentation to his muscles. Still, he made up for it with his diligent practice counted in decades.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. While lacking in talent, he had to find other ways to live up to his mother¡¯s hopes. However, as the man drew nearer to the battlefield, each step grew more labored even when his strength returned. The winds pushed him away. Yet that was not all. A whirlpool of water surged out, flooding toward him with blinding light. Rasa shielded his eyes by flowing water over his eyes to deflect the radiance. He pushed through, wading into the water even as Summertime Jolly tore into his flesh. Rasa¡¯s eyes blazed with a dreadful love, one that couldn¡¯t be doused. Just as Eight walked with a heavy weight upon his heart and back, the Centurion was the same. Seconds passed as his muscles deteriorated and blood entered the whirlpool. Soon, his own Stitching Current would lose form. Such would foretell his death, for he was only alive because of it stalling his wounds. But he didn¡¯t care. He lost more and more of his life until his communicator beeped, indicating that he was finally close enough for the signal to reach his Praetor. The noise urged him on, but a voice swiftly followed, ¡°Rasa. Don¡¯t do this. Turn around.¡± With tightly clenched eyes, the man ignored his mother¡¯s order and continued. What soldier would leave his commander alone? What commander would fail his own subordinates? What senior would abandon his junior? What son would abandon his mother? Rasa¡¯s jaw ground upon itself with such agitation that his gums bled, and a ringing soared through his ears. He said nothing to his mother, the woman who raised him from the orphanage in which he had first opened his eyes. It was unbearable to imagine a world without her. She never smiled much. Rarely, in fact. But she smiled when she picked him up the first time. The words echoed in his mind alongside the roaring Tide, ¡°Aren¡¯t you just the sweetest th¡ª¡± ¡°Rasa! This is a direct order! TURN AROUND!¡± Elize Sunwin¡¯s frenzied scream opened Rasa¡¯s eyes, ripping him from the pleasant memory. He found himself chest-deep in a whirlpool encompassing every direction as far as he could see. The pressure of Summertime Jolly sank into his flesh, weakening his every action. Yet he had felt this Domain more than any other. He had trained under it countless times. As a boy, he witnessed it for the first time. Then, as a teen, he slipped and fell endlessly. By his adulthood, he could stand its weight. Barely. But that alone placed him amongst the top thousand in the entire Empire. His love and his pride waged a war against his obedience. Through the crashing waves, his right foot raised up, prepared to take another step. Then she spoke, the noise muffled by the water surrounding the communicator yet still audible, ¡°Rasa. Please. I¡¯m begging you. I can¡¯t fight at my best with you still here. You need to escape. I need you to protect Claudius.¡± The unsaid meaning stabbed directly into Rasa¡¯s heart, and his head sank. Even now, nearly forty years after she first found him, Rasa still held her back. He had risen through the ranks, becoming a formidable Centurion, one of few with hopes of future promotion. He killed a dozen Anathema today. And half a dozen Centurions. He tore apart four Formless from Glaniece, overpowering their mimicked Tides. Two Magisters from Ostacean even fell to his wrath today. All of them were with the Church, and while Rasa received help with many of them, he had slain over ten, all alone after his men had passed. Despite his feats, his agony, and his spilled life, he still wasn¡¯t enough. She was always ahead of him, too far to reach. ¡°Why? Why did you pick me?¡± Rasa croaked out a simple question, tears falling from his eyes. The Legates recognized Elize Sunwin for her cunning. And her cruelty was infamous, synonymous with her burning eyes. From the Praetors to the Centurions, no one messed with her people. Even the other Empires and Dirge hesitated when attacking her men. She was a vicious woman. Fair, but endlessly vindictive. Otherwise, she would never have stood before the Shattered Peak. Her enemies would have long torn her down. So why? Why did she care for him? Claudius made sense. It was an owed debt. A promise to her late mentor, not to mention the kid¡¯s insane Designation. But him? Rasa Sunwin? The feeble Tidewalker? ¡°Because... I had always wanted a kid. Couldn¡¯t get a husband. Didn¡¯t have time for that. Few good men up here, either. But... a kid? My mother said I¡¯d be an awful mom. Even Gaius agreed. Said I was too prone to my whims. Still... I thought I could do it. Please. I know I wasn¡¯t the best. How could I be? I was gone every other day. Sometimes longer,¡± Elize¡¯s voice stuttered through the waning connection. ¡°But... please, Ra. Run.¡± The heartfelt message dove into Rasa¡¯s chest, and the man stumbled backward. He wanted to follow her, to join his Praetor in death, hoping on the slim chance that he could make a difference. At his dying breath, he wanted to gamble his life for a Domain Collapse. However, he knew better. He could hold off a Praetor or be a nuisance to a Caesar, but... His mother was beyond the random Praetor, and her enemy transcended that. As such, the man twisted his body, every muscle resisting the movement. Then... He ran. And the whirlpool pushed him, no longer fighting him but granting the eldest son all its strength. As Rasa left the battlefield, being washed away by the tremendous current, Thanaris stared ahead, the right side of her body vaporized. In the few seconds of Rasa and Elize¡¯s conversation, Thanaris had to fend off Joseph. The Caesar paid a dire price. Far above her, the moon of the Sanguine Dream dimmed. From the treading light, a massive surge of energy filled Thanaris, and the woman¡¯s body reconstructed from the ocean of blood around her. Once more, Thanaris demonstrated her Reactive Domain. She was nearly unkillable while it lasted as long as a part of her remained. Still, Joseph¡¯s electricity was effective in destroying her body to the last molecule. The Caesar coughed, stepping aside from protecting Elize as she asked, ¡°Are you done?¡± The Praetor nodded as she strode forward, staring at Joseph dead-on. He bore a slight grin as his lightning swelled, showing no end in sight. His stamina would outlast both of them. His Domain¡¯s primary effect stagnated from the other Domains pressing against it. Even so, the Automatic Domain had a gross targeting effect. Lightning Wraith¡¯s strikes were nearly impossible to dodge. Another tendril of azure built from the ocean surrounding the man. If it was just the electricity, it wouldn¡¯t be so bad, but no. The dual nature of a Necto was the problem. Against the surmounting pressure, Elize Sunwin spoke softly, treading water toward Joseph with each word, ¡°Joseph. You chose the wrong time to fight me.¡± The fallen Praetor laughed as his Tide surged forward. Crackling waves met a blinding whirlpool. As usual, the latter was pushed back, but not as far as before. They met again as the two grew closer, yet oddly, Elize wasn¡¯t suffering as bad as before. ¡°Hmm? Why do you say that? I don¡¯t see how you can win this. It would be different if you still had all your men and attacked me at once or if you had prepared for this. Already fatigued and without backup... All you have is your Domain Collapse, and that will soon fall,¡± Joseph¡¯s confidence was undying, proved by his matching footfalls toward Elize. He sought to reach her just as she did to him. However, the Praetor¡¯s lips rose as they opened, ¡°Is that so? Do you not recall Gaius¡¯ crowning achievement?¡± Finally, Joseph¡¯s eyes lifted in surprise, ¡°What? His Absolute? Pfft. Are you saying you learned it? There are what, five of those techniques in the Empire? One, maybe two in the others? Come on, Elize. Bluffing is beyond you.¡± The man called her a liar, but as their Tides met once more, it seemed to Thanaris and Joseph that Elize was no longer losing. They were nearly equal in power. Elize¡¯s eyes shone brilliantly as she spoke the exact words of her late mentor, ¡°Foolish old men move mountains, so that their grandchildren may see the sunrise. Gaius said that long ago. Before that old man died, only four existed. Other than those four, they were only manifested upon death¡¯s door, unable to be taught. But Gaius... had long been ready to give his life.¡± Thanaris retreated, leaving her side of the onslaught to fall to the Praetor, and as if in spite, her whirlpool only grew faster. Summertime Jolly burned more radiantly with every impact. Joseph furrowed his brows, concentrating his electrified water in a hurry as he knew what was coming. ¡°He taught me it, and I passed it on. But you know something, Joseph... the other Absolutes... they require endless training or a perfect aptitude. This one?¡± Elize paused for a moment, the light in her eyes fading before reigniting brighter than before. ¡°You must only be willing to die.¡± Tides were mighty. All acknowledged that. It was their mastery that led to the magnificent and awe-inspiring Domain Collapse. Most believed it was impossible to match such a phenomenon with anything else. Such was not the truth. At the pinnacle, the Absolute Limit, where the mastery of a technique forced the Lightsea to cower, reality bent in response. Only five of these existed in all of the Empire, and this one was thought to be lost. As for this move, it was under the waning of a long life that the Lightsea bowed. One toiled endlessly, day and night, so their kin could prosper, even at the cost of their own lives. Foolish Old Men Move Mountains. Unlike a Domain Collapse, none said the move aloud, not Elize or the Lightsea. It was without sound. Unheard but not unfelt. None knew the technique¡¯s name other than precisely three people in history. Gaius. His student. And his student¡¯s son. The fifth Absolute Limit of the Roman Empire returned with a majestic blaze. Just as it bloomed for the first time, it did so with a deathly conviction, pledged to protect its only family. Elize Sunwin accepted that her gamble had failed. She bet often, using her life many times. In the past, she had always won. In this game, however, she would lose. Despite this, she refused to let anyone else suffer the same fate. Lightning met light, and with each conflict, the sun grew brighter and brighter. The tenth collision of forces caused the jolly to burn brightly across the region, etching itself into Rasa¡¯s tearful stare. 57 - A Shadowed One ¡°The strongest Tide? There is no ¡®Strongest Tide¡¯. There is only the strongest Seafarer. Any path can deliver you to the Shattered Peak. You must only walk it fondly and remain dedicated. Obsessed. Obsession will take you further than talent.¡± Dante stood balanced on an abnormal lily pad atop a small, mist-shrouded pond, surrounded by ghostly plants that arched around the shore behind him, their translucent leaves whispering in the soft breeze. Tiny, spectral bugs skittered along the pale stems, casting faint glows in the vague light from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Misty carp drifted serenely below the water¡¯s surface, their scales shimmering as evaporation streamed from their forms. He watched the fish, their lives simple and unbothered. Unable to think while looking at them, he shook his head, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. The man wasn¡¯t sure where he was, but he found himself lost in the bizarre nature. However, a noise from ahead drew his attention, pulling him from his reverie. In front of him, a line of lily pads stretched toward a central island nestled within the pond, where a raised terrace extended over the land. Sitting on a chair at a long table under the roof was a man, barely visible, his form almost translucent, like an echo from a forgotten memory. Dante¡¯s gaze fixed on him with recognition. This was Geist. Whatever remained of him, at least. Step by step, he moved across the floating lilies, each pad rippling beneath his weight yet holding firm, carrying him closer. The mist curled around him, thickening as he neared the island, wrapping the world in a hazy silence. But it wasn¡¯t threatening, utterly unlike Geist¡¯s Arido. Instead, the fog graced his flesh with a soft touch, closer to an inquisitive animal than a murderous monster. Dante furrowed his brows, his curiosity growing. When he first gained his powers, he had nothing like this. Was it because of Judas? He wasn¡¯t sure. A moment later, his foot touched the edge of the island¡¯s land, intangible stalks of grass beneath him, and a voice drifted to him from across the terrace. ¡°I always dreamed I¡¯d create a place like this,¡± the man spoke, his voice as faint as his form yet laced with longing. ¡°A real world. A place where my creations wouldn¡¯t break at a sharp gust.¡± His gaze traveled over the pond and misted plants, a flicker of sadness in his fading expression. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a painful thing, to only hurt and never create.¡± The man turned to look at him, eyes searching Dante¡¯s with a depth that made the words resonate, ¡°What do you think, Dante? Are you not the same?¡± Geist¡¯s gaze pierced through the human¡¯s flesh as if he, too, was translucent. It continued, plunging into the distant fog beyond the canopy of flowers, lilies, and life. Dante hesitated, the echo of Geist¡¯s words lingering in the mist between them. The man had come here ready for a battle, but with such a question, his gaze drifted over the ethereal scene¡ªthe mist-laden pond, the ghostly plants, the shimmering, spectral fish. He took it in. He breathed it in. The scents entered his air, that of a calm spring. This was the first thing he had ever seen created by the Lightsea that felt... peaceful. His mind flashed to his thoughts regarding the Dirge being manipulated toward madness. Geist¡¯s abode was a creation that seemed as fragile as a breath. Yet, it held a strange, timeless beauty, as though it existed just outside the boundaries of reality. Indeed, it did. The two faced each other between worlds and realities upon the precipice of life and death. It was easy to see which stood on either side, but the hearts of each were not always so simple. Dante looked back at Geist, the ghostly figure seated at the table, his gaze steady yet searching. Dante wasn¡¯t sure how much of Geist was still present here, if he remembered who Dante was, or if this was merely a fragment¡ªa lingering piece of Geist¡¯s power and mind. Regardless, he ignored his surprise at the Anacrux¡¯s nonviolence and walked closer. There were questions he needed answers to, even if he couldn¡¯t ask them. ¡°Is that really all you think you were capable of?¡± Dante asked, his voice steady with profound caution, though his words carried a trace of accusation. ¡°Only able to hurt?¡± Geist¡¯s face flickered, the faintest shadow of a smile passing over his almost featureless visage, ¡°Hurt, destruction¡­ it¡¯s what I understood. It¡¯s what I was given to work with. It¡¯s what was forced upon me. And all the rest,¡± he murmured as if admitting a bitter truth to himself. ¡°When you are starving, Dante, everything becomes prey.¡± Dante¡¯s eyes narrowed as he took another step, his weight leaving the intangible grass and landing on the dense stone. ¡°But this place,¡± he said, gesturing to the misted world around them, ¡°this doesn¡¯t look like a starving predator¡¯s work. It¡¯s¡­ something else.¡± Geist looked away, his head drifting to the murk that settled over the pond. Then, his eyes softened as though he glimpsed something Dante could not, ¡°A different world, a different life, perhaps.¡± He continued with a slow, almost wistful sigh, ¡°I know you wish answers. I cannot give you them. The consequences are more than you can endure. Leave it be. Some things are not meant to be known by mortals.¡± Dante scrutinized the ghost, his own expression indistinct. ¡°Why not? Is there anything you can tell me? Why aren¡¯t we fighting?¡± Geist¡¯s head tilted, his gaze falling back on Dante, and for the first time, there was something piercing in his translucent eyes, ¡°Who says we aren¡¯t? Battles are decided before the first blade is drawn. You know this. As do I.¡± His attention ignored Dante¡¯s most pressing question and focused on something inside Dante¡¯s solid flesh, ¡°Perhaps I wanted to see if you¡¯re bound by the same curse. If you¡¯re bound to become like me¡ªa weapon in a world that demands destruction.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Dante stiffened, a flicker of defiance sparking in his eyes. ¡°Who? What did this to you?¡± Geist¡¯s eyes narrowed, his face twisting with a mix of bitterness and resignation, ¡°I can¡¯t tell you names, but even if I could, it wouldn¡¯t matter much,¡± Geist murmured, his voice hollow. ¡°We¡¯re all caught in a web, Dante. A web spun so wide and fine that we can¡¯t even see its threads, only feel the pull. Those who see more¡­ well are the ones with the strings in their hands, and none are eager to let go.¡± Dante felt the weight of Geist¡¯s words settle over him, a creeping unease forming as he tried to make sense of what Geist was saying. This didn¡¯t feel like the confession of a mere weapon, of a man content to be used. There was more, a resentment buried deep, layered under years of bitter acceptance. Dante was no stranger to the manipulation of others. But this was different. It wasn¡¯t some clever ruse to drop his guard. This Geist... it wasn¡¯t the man he had spoken to before. It wasn¡¯t the man who taunted him and Thanaris. He was utterly different from the man that he had just slain. This man... he was consumed by remorse. Depressed. Hopeless. But why? Why was he this way? Was the web really that awful? Was there indeed no hope? Something had made Geist into the man he was. Vile and murderous. Yet, as Dante stared at him now, he saw something other. ¡°You¡¯re saying someone forced you into this?¡± Dante pressed, his voice edged with frustration. ¡°Who has that kind of power? What do they want with people like us?¡± Geist turned to him, and for a moment, his translucent face held an expression of almost pity, ¡°Not everyone is forced, Dante. Some are lured, tricked, and seduced by power and purpose. Others¡­ others have no choice at all, either life or death. And then, there are those like us. Those who are just... given a path. If we stray... they¡ª¡± Dante felt a chill crawl down his spine as Geist paused. His already indistinct figure faded further. The man had said something he shouldn¡¯t. That he couldn¡¯t. The once-firm eyes of Geist unfocused, and Dante sat beside the man. He raised an arm, arranging it against the Anacrux¡¯s shoulder. It felt like that of a cloud, damp and formless. ¡°What about this?¡± Dante asked, gesturing to the tranquil world around them, his intent to bring Geist¡¯s mind back from whatever took him. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look like destruction, Geist. This is peace¡ªyour peace. If you were nothing but a weapon, why create this place?¡± For a second, nothing happened, as if Geist didn¡¯t hear a word Dante said. However, the dead man blinked in the growing stillness, regaining some clarity. Geist¡¯s hand reached out, grazing the air as if he could feel the faint mist. It was as if he could touch the fleeting beauty he had somehow forged in this broken space. ¡°Because this was my dreamland. When I slept, I wished to be safe. To be... here,¡± he whispered, the ghost¡¯s voice laced with finality. ¡°It¡¯s everything I wanted to be¡ªa creator, not a destroyer. But even here, I am not free. I am nothing borrowed dream, bound to fade. Worse... when I return, I will no longer be me. I will merely share the same abilities and flesh.¡± Dante watched him. The ghost¡¯s defiance eased into an accepted fate. Dante hadn¡¯t come here to pity Geist or to feel anything but rage toward the man. He thought they would battle here. That he would once more face death. Yet here, in this dreamlike world of the dying spirit, there was no struggle to be had. ¡°So, what now? Is there any way out?¡± Dante asked, his voice steady. Geist¡¯s eyes met his, and for the first time, they held a glimmer of something¡ªhope or perhaps mere desperation, ¡°A way out? Who knows? If anyone were to know, it would be your Vicar. Or my Stranger. The Eventide Seraphim and the Nameless Drifter stand at the apex of the Shattered Peak. If any could... it would be them.¡± Dante¡¯s heart pounded as Geist¡¯s gaze bore into him, an intensity burning in the echo¡¯s evanescent eyes. ¡°You have power, Dante. Power you don¡¯t fully understand, but it¡¯s different from mine. Pure, untouched. That¡¯s rare,¡± Geist continued, his voice thick with urgency. ¡°They¡¯ll come for you. I was born with a chain. Your kind... you only chain yourselves. They¡¯ll dress it up, promise you purpose, and give you reasons to embrace that power. But be wary, Dante¡ªwhat seems like control is only a chain in disguise.¡± Dante clenched his fists, anger and resolve building within him as he recalled Astraeus¡¯ struggle with his emotions and Judas¡¯ ministrations, ¡°I don¡¯t intend to be anyone¡¯s plaything. I won¡¯t let anyone take my mind. But... I already had something inside me. Do you not sense it?¡± A faint smile flickered across Geist¡¯s face before it twisted into agony, ¡°You already had a Qualae? No. You... My death will awaken yours. I had thought... no. It must have been another trick. Here, I can hold some bits. I...¡± Geist took a long, parting look at the world around them as though he were saying goodbye, ¡°Whatever... fuck...¡± each word echoed with centuries of agony, of millennia of chains ripping out the man¡¯s soul. An Anacrux had a chance at revival should they overwhelm their challenger. They could take over the body and mold it to fit their whims. Awakened to reality, Geist fought ferociously against a foe more spectral than his Tide. Dante sat silent, observing the man as he struggled to relay his message instead of resisting death. The ordained duel shifted into an old man¡¯s parting words. ¡°That thing... It shared your face, no? The Forgotten Pride. Ego. That is his name. I... didn¡¯t think... he was... real. A horror story... amongst young Dirge. I can see it... through our connection. I... It made a mistake, Dante. It let you live. You...¡± Geist¡¯s figure flickered, the edges of his form dissolving into the mist. It was as though he were part of this world, and now it was calling him back. The last traces of his face, that small, hopeful smile, faded into the fog with an echoing warning, ¡°Do not say his name aloud. Until you can break the void, he will hear you. Names have power, Dante Penance. No matter his reason, he let you live. Please. Make. Them. Regret. It.¡± With his departure, Dante sat alone in the estate of ghosts. After a long sigh, he stood and walked up to the pond¡¯s reflection. The surface hid the depths from him. One last time, he desired to see Geist¡¯s creations. The man, while an enemy, didn¡¯t wish to be one. He wanted only to be a gardener. Instead, he was compelled to engage in endless slaughter and massacre. The fate of the man weighed on Dante¡¯s mind. It made him worry for Thanaris and Astraeus. How would they turn out? Were they resisting? Had they already fallen? Hana. Melody. Even that Joseph. Were they long gone? Geist said Dante¡¯s kind were born only shackled by themselves. A man like Joseph must have been seduced by whatever lurked in the shadows. As the human turned to leave, his figure evaporating like the dead man did, a faint ripple passed over the pond. Beneath the tremors, the ghostly carp drifted closer as though drawn to him, their misty forms mirroring the faint light from the world Geist had left behind. They spun in circles, unbeknownst to Dante, as the man knew he would have to wait until he achieved a Domain Collapse to share this information with anyone. The exact reason was beyond him, but he acknowledged the warning after all he had seen. The moment he left, the fish ceased their movement. Water froze, and the air stilled as the temperature dropped. Soon, there was nothing in the tranquil pagoda other than dead meaning. However, Dante¡¯s mind couldn¡¯t remain idle. Colors crumpled his vision as a rapid-fire volley of information entered his mind. Lesser Qualae delivered only the Tide and the Stigmata. Those of the Anarchy and Anachronism did more, bestowing knowledge and instinct. An Anacrux did far more. It was as if the Lightsea itself spoke to him. And maybe it did. Visions pierced through the menagerie of colors, showing him practicing his Hydro and all his failures. It edged him toward success, demonstrating paths of development. Moreover, it went beyond the Tide. It showed his Stigmata. It told Dante who he was. Who he truly was. A cunning charlatan. Conflicts made only after careful rehearsal. Death is decided before the blade is drawn. Betrayal tightens trust and elevates preparation. The words coalesce from thousands of different voices, originating from all those Dante had met over his life. They created him. They, altogether, knew him. He was them. With the voices¡¯ guidance, Dante listened to himself explain his Stigmata to Eight in an echoing chamber, ¡°I can store skills. Only three right now, and they¡¯re kinda limited in scope, but they can grow. Even if I¡¯m tired, even if I¡¯m under Inverted Palace, even if... they take it from me again. I¡¯ll still be able to fight.¡± The bizarreness of hearing himself talk threw Dante off, but his excitement tore through the oddity. This was his Stigmata, and the voice continued, imparting countless experiences that would help him in manipulating his Tide. It directly pushed him a level higher with his mastery, from a novice to an adept. He stared down at his broken arm as the visions and noises faded, and he forced a wall of water to form within his own flesh. With a tiny tug, one that felt just right, unlike Reset, the Tide vanished into his body. Even as his feet landed on solid ground and he saw seven people who looked identical to Eight, the man held a smile. He ignored the impossible scene before him, too engrossed in his own evolution. The Stigmata was perfect for him. It wasn¡¯t overbearing like Melody¡¯s or mind-bending like Sonna¡¯s. Neither was it as impressive as Eight¡¯s or as distant as Rejo¡¯s. It was simple. It stored a movement of Tide... That could be triggered with a preset condition. As Eight sputtered beside Dante and the seven figures hauled corpses while ignoring the two spectators, the human properly set up his three Matchlocks. The first contained a charge of Flick, the burst of water that held the potential to pierce through feet of steel. When Dante said ¡°hello,¡± high-pressurized water would erupt from his pinky finger. Next, he created an ability based on Rasa¡¯s expertise. In the same way the Centurion kept his organs inside, Dante formed a rudimentary version that would continually push against any bleeding wound with water. Such would activate when he received a life-threatening injury. Furthermore, the final one was a little special. It would activate whenever Dante snapped his fingers, detonating a jet of water from his feet, allowing him to evade an incoming attack or close in on a foe. This was something new he had thought of after seeing Joseph¡¯s movements. He could only prepare three for now, and their scope and complexity were limited. With enough practice, however, he could loosen those restraints. Every foe he could prepare countermeasures, every situation accounted for, and every future dealt with. Eight¡¯s short sob, however, broke him from his dreams. The human left his imagination and thoughts to witness the boy on his knees, shouting at seven identical copies of him killing each other on a stage. ¡°Why! No! Stop! I... this isn¡¯t real! STOP!¡± Every word from Eight possessed years of unwinding memories, and Dante felt the storm of emotions swirling around the boy. The man was still not in reality. This was yet another vision, but this was completely different. It was a memory of the living, not the hopes of the dead. 58 - Eyelid Mists Boundless Nails sat in her starship, sighing as she removed her gloves. Blackened nails sat at the end of each of her four arms, and they oozed death. Droplets of ichor fell to the steel floor beneath her, hissing with acid. The dozens of Stigmata she had embedded into her body coalesced here at her fingers. She stretched the ligaments as she gazed at her own flesh with a pair of longing eyes. ¡°Maybe¡­ with these MDs I can become beautiful again.¡± Years flashed between the eyes of both men in seconds. Dante only tuned in after the first five passed, leaving him stunned as they sped onward. Such a sigh was impossible. Yet both saw it nonetheless. Unable to grasp the strange reality that unfolded, Dante stood beside Eight inside the void between dimensions. If he were beside anyone else, the razors of space would have already torn him apart. However, unlike the rest of the universe, the void cradled the young man and all those around him. Each winding moment felt like an eternity compressed yet also instant. Memories flashed by in a current as the ticking of a clock began. Dante couldn¡¯t comprehend it entirely, but every moment, every flicker of the images before him, told a story that felt both foreign and chillingly real. Next to him, Eight¡¯s face was rigid after his screaming, his eyes wide as the scenes played out. There, in a sterile petri dish, lay seven identical infants, their fragile bodies pulsing with an unnatural glow, trapped within transparent walls and watched by unseen eyes. A single, smiling old man watched from beyond the walls. On his chest sat a nametag that held two letters. P. P. Those two letters sank into Dante¡¯s mind and burnt itself into Eight¡¯s madness. As if to mock the younger one, time lurched forward faster than Dante or Eight could track. The newborns grew, so someone removed them from the petri dish before placing them in a smoky room. Masked doctors carried them into the wheezing haze with the sound of dense machinery. Shadows cloaked the space of the toiling scalpels. Still, Dante could only glimpse metal arms, strange apparatuses that held each child, wiring them with needles and tubes. Eight, however, felt his heart crack and distort, unfelt agony returning. The muffled cries of the seven rang through the smoke. They screamed and howled without words. Yet, no one came to save them. There was no mother, no calming voice, and no tall figure to scare away the shadows. There were only the masks and the clocks. Time whirled onward, and then came the lessons¡ªlessons in violence. The children grew, their bodies scarred and bruised, eyes glinting with a hardened gleam far beyond their years. Beneath their flesh hid steel, empowering their every movement and elevating their brutality toward each other. In every flash of memory, they moved with a fiend¡¯s touch, fists connecting, limbs twisting, pain their constant companion. There were no teachers visible, no mentors offering guidance, only the relentless rhythm of the monotone voice to deliver commands shadowed by the pulsing clocks. Commands of blood. They were taught to fight, to kill, and above all, to survive. But as they battled, something was unsettlingly absent from Dante¡¯s gaze. There was no sign of Eight among them. Seven figures, identical to him, lived out these lessons, hardened by years of combat and discipline. Yet, he was nowhere to be found amidst them. Dante¡¯s gaze flickered to Eight, whose face was unreadable, his eyes locked onto the scenes yet contorting with unspoken pain. They both knew this was real¡ªor had been real. Whatever place or time this was, it had left its mark on Eight¡¯s existence, even if he had not physically been there. The scenes grew darker, more inhumane as the sound of the timepieces intensified. As the children advanced in age, their bodies bore more than just scars. Metal plates, wires, and circuitry substituted the battered flesh, experiment after experiment merging machine and bone in an ever-deepening transformation. With each violation, each drop of blood shed, and each new lesson, the masked old man watched from beyond glass walls. His eyes hid themselves from the children, but his presence only fueled the seven¡¯s will. Some children awakened strange powers, Psionic abilities that manifested in flickers of light or sudden telekinetic bursts. Another one¡¯s gaze became vague and distant, the eyes of a Seer, seeing things beyond reality. But one child lost something else entirely. The spark in his eyes snuffed out as his mind had unraveled under the pressure, leaving him a hollow, broken shell that could only follow orders. Still, Father Time was not yet done. The clocks continued to tick. The children grew more adept, more deadly. At last, they reached the age of sixteen, their bodies nearly unrecognizable, forged into weapons that seemed less human than mechanical. Each of them bore scars, not just of flesh and metal. Their wounds went past the heart. Then, the scene changed. They stood in a stainless arena, an enormous chamber with steel walls looming high above them, lined with unerring machines that buzzed and hummed, watching the young warriors. The teens looked at each other, their gazes filled with grim insight. They knew what was coming. They had fought each other countless times before and had pushed their bodies to the limit in endless tests of strength and skill. But this time, they sensed something different in the air: a finality. The brothers and sisters almost couldn¡¯t bear to face each other. The distant wall ascended, a pair of boots appeared under the rising sheet. Then before their owner could be revealed, a disembodied presence echoed through the chamber, cold and unfeeling, ¡°Boys. Girls. This is your last test. Kill¡ª¡± The unchanging voice cut off abruptly, and a piercing scream shattered the silence in its place, a raw, guttural sound which frayed space. Dante¡¯s head whipped to the side, and he saw Eight clawing at his neck. The boy¡¯s face twisted in agony as he collapsed amidst a snowy forest floor. Blood smeared his hands, a smear of red against his inhuman, metallic scaffolding as he scraped desperately at his own skin, trying to peel away the blood and metal. ¡°Get out of me! Get out! STOP! LEAVE! I DON¡¯T WANT YOU!¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Beneath the fallen night, Dante staggered back, his mind reeling as the vision of the past dissolved. He found it difficult to extricate himself from the memories for a moment, as so much time had passed. After a moment, however, he shook his head, the weight of those memories lingering like a dark cloud. But to him, it was just that. An invisible weight, a memory. The Anomaly below him was a different story. Eight crumpled into the fetal position, his hands trembling, breath coming in short, broken gasps as he continued clawing at his own body. ¡°Eight¡­¡± Dante whispered, taking a hesitant step forward, unsure of what to do. This was beyond anything he anticipated. The horrors of Eight¡¯s past had laid themselves bare in a way that words could never describe. He knew the kid had problems. With the way he joked and killed without a single qualm, he would have to be messed up in the head. The fallen boy¡¯s gaze flicked up, eyes wide and wild, filled with a pain so deep he was almost unrecognizable. He shook his head to no one, his voice a hoarse whisper as he mumbled, ¡°They¡­ they made me into¡­ this.¡± His hands trembled as he touched a metal vein in his neck, his fingers curling around the sharp edges as though he could somehow tear it away. Dante knelt beside him, his hand hovering, uncertain whether to touch Eight or keep his distance. The Anomaly had almost lost his mind. Regardless, Dante wouldn¡¯t give up on him that easily. ¡°Hey. Eight. Breathe. It¡¯s okay. I know what it¡¯s like. The augments. Mine aren¡¯t as... extensive as yours, but I have them, too. You don¡¯t need to relax. You shouldn¡¯t. But you do need to breathe,¡± Dante spoke with a softness he held only for Archimedes. The rare gesture left Eight¡¯s madness paused. The boy¡¯s breathing slowed, his gaze falling back to the blood-streaked snow beneath him. He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Dante said nothing, merely listening to the forest as Eight teetered between despair and insanity. Distant howls, some unknown beast or monster, echoed into Dante¡¯s enhanced ears. He remained quiet as Eight sat amongst the crimson snow. The Anomaly¡¯s entire body was ruined. Every inch of his skin was torn, with several fatal wounds intertwined. But where the flesh failed, the steel succeeded. The machines within Eight breathed life into his dying form. He didn¡¯t heal, not like Lucius or Dante¡¯s old Stigmata. He survived. On the other side, Dante stood with two broken arms still dripping blood. Joan¡¯s recovery serum had done wonders by sealing the worst wounds, but bones were not so effortlessly reknitted. Nevertheless, he bore the pain and forced his arms to work. Fires raced through the nerves in his arms while he tore apart a nearby tree with a jet of water from his palm. A lackluster splint, built from his shirt and several sturdy branches, nestled onto his chest in mere moments. Dante¡¯s left arm healed less than his right, so it fell into the cushion while the right would fight on. With the splint, he sat beside Eight, crashing his back onto a tree bark. The snow bit into his flesh. And failed. His mastery of Surewinter had only grown further. Then, the man closed his eyes to rest. Sobbing traced the snow, landing in his ears, but he had heard worse. Dante slipped into a dreamless slumber in mere seconds. ************************ A ripple of unnatural energy stirred in the air as a hand drifted toward Sonna¡¯s unmoving neck. In the instant before the hand twisted into a clawed monstrosity, a rock replaced the woman¡¯s body. Where blood might have sprayed into the night, the slashing nail met only stone, splitting it with a sharp crack. Mojo had saved her life once more. The dust scattered over the gravel street while Rejo wrapped a hand around Sonna¡¯s shoulder. With her in his grasp, the Araki bolted for the diner, kicking up rocks with each step. As he ran, the inhuman creatures turned to face him, their eyes hollow, dark voids that seemed to pierce through his flesh, burrowing into the very marrow of his bones. Astraeus eyed the monsters, his confidence and fascination warring with a deeper, animal instinct to flee. The creatures moved with an unnatural stillness, each step slow and deliberate, like predators sure of their prey. It was as if running held no purpose and that, in time, their hands would find them. Where, after all, could they run? The road, the sky, the surrounding shadows¡ªthey all belonged to the creatures now. Hiding inside would only grant them temporary safety. Astraeus¡¯ fascination curved to horror, his muscles locking until Claudius¡¯s sharp voice broke through the stillness, shouting from the diner, ¡°Rejo! Faster! Get away from Astraeus and the monsters!¡± At the command, Astraeus pushed through his confidence. Deep down, he knew these ¡®humans¡¯ were not to be trifled with. A single glance at the diner told him all he needed to know. Before meeting Dante, he might have ignored such feelings. He had learned caution from the madman. The Frigo ran after Rejo, whose grip on Sonna tightened as he neared the diner¡¯s entrance. He reached down, scooping a rock into his hand and raising it, preparing to hurl it through the diner¡¯s window in a desperate bid for safety. But Claudius shouted again, this time sharper, filled with a note of dread. ¡°No! Break nothing! Come in through the door!¡± Rejo swore, pulling Sonna forward with him as Astraeus followed, the pounding of their footsteps a frantic counterpoint to the monsters¡¯ slow, deliberate march. Astraeus felt a prickling at the back of his neck as if the gaze of every creature was fixed on him alone. His pulse thundered in her ears as he detonated the first chapter of Surewinter in his flesh. The stored power sent his body into overdrive, slipping just past the encircling mob. Astraeus¡¯ usual calm vanished as he barely reached the door while the unhurried bodies inched closer. The door swung open as Rejo and Sonna reached it, Claudius¡¯s eyes flashing with alarm as he let them in. But behind them was the Anathema. Claudius and Astraeus shared a single look. A million emotions, considerations, and thoughts flew past before the Judge bit his lip and let the man in. Astraeus entered for less than a second before Claudius slammed the door shut with a heavy clatter, fumbling with the locks. His breaths came fast and shallow as he retreated, a thin trickle of blood slipping down from his nose as he steadied himself. His mind pulsed with the vision he had felt while his vow empowered his unnatural gifts by sacrificing his potential. And those gifts did not come without a price, proved by the crimson on his lips. With shaky hands, Claudius fought to regain his calm after the non-stop danger. Then, outside the glass, she appeared. A woman stood there, unmoving, staring into the diner. Her face was pale and thin, almost delicate in its starkness. That was until her smile grew, stretching impossibly wide, each corner reaching further and further until her lips kissed the lobes of her ears. Her mouth held row after row of packed, pointed teeth, tiered like the seats in an amphitheater. ¡°Hi there, hun,¡± she whispered, though the sound was as clear as if she were speaking beside them, as if nothing was abnormal. ¡°Would you mind letting me in? I could go for an evening meal.¡± The words lingered in the air, yet no one dared to answer. Twelve eyes fixated on the glass, unable to tear themselves away from the growing mass. The woman¡¯s voice came again, softer, yet somehow sharper, laced with an amused patience. ¡°Go on,¡± she coaxed, one clawed finger tapping lightly against the glass. Each tap left Claudius¡¯ heart leaping in his chest while his vision replayed in his mind. The blood. The murder. Still, the woman didn¡¯t care in the slightest for his terror. ¡°Don¡¯t be rude now. Just open the door.¡± She tilted her head as she stared at them, her eyes gleaming with a hunger that had no end. ¡°What are you?¡± Claudius demanded beyond his fear, hands tightening on his Executioner. With a stretched grin, the woman replied, ¡°Just an old lady. Please. It¡¯s quite cold out here.¡± Claudius cursed under his breath while Sonna, Yue, and Astraeus glared at him. The lattermost, with nightmarish skin, spoke first, ¡°What are those things? They are... evil... I...¡± ¡°Evil. That¡¯s funny,¡± Talander laughed with murder in his eyes, pointed toward the Anathema. Rejo slid to the side, standing between the swordsman and the Frigo. The Araki stood equally prepared for violence. Before anyone could attack, Sonna and Claudius both moved. The former placed her hand on Rejo¡¯s chest, and the latter held up a single finger. The Judge spoke first, ¡°Relax. We cannot fight here. All of us will die. Each of those things is unkillable. Hurt them, and they¡¯ll just come back. One swipe and each of you is dead, except Astraeus and I. I don¡¯t know what they are. But... we need to work together.¡± Were it not for the foresight that told him of the total death of his crew, his new friends, he would have never allowed Astraeus inside. He would have fought to the end. After seeing both Yue and Talander disemboweled, however, things became different. Sonna also opened her mouth to speak, but the woman outside pressed a hand against the glass. Attention shifted back to her with the plink of the door. Her fingers splayed wide, the flesh thin and gray, stretching taut over long, skeletal bones. Where her palm touched, a faint print remained, smudged and wet, like some substance darker than ink. ¡°Come on. Let me in,¡± the ¡®woman¡¯ whispered, her voice dripping with a strange, almost pleading sweetness. ¡°Or¡­ I can wait until you¡¯re ready. Makes no difference to me.¡± Her smile dilated further, revealing another row of teeth, smaller, sharper, packed into the back of her throat as her lips reached behind her ears. A silence fell over the room after her words, thick and cloying, as though the air itself had turned to oil. Past the windows, the shadows of the other figures grew darker, shapes flickering like candle flames from the diner¡¯s light as they drew closer. They moved in sync with the woman¡¯s voice until they all stood against the glass, whether door or window. Sonna lost her courage to utter a single word, but a nudge from Rejo rekindled it. With a cough to bolster her voice, the woman brought a finger toward the door, ¡°Can they get in, Claudius?¡± The Judge shook his head, ¡°No. They have to be let in. This is probably obvious, but for the psychos in the back,¡± Claudius stared dead-on at Rejo and Astraeus as he gave an order. ¡°Do. Not. Open. It.¡± His words, while ominous, provided relief to everyone in the diner. Muscles relaxed while bodies hit chairs, benches, and cushions. Claudius¡¯ trustworthiness brought immediate comfort and allowed them to rest without worry. Even Astraeus sighed, sinking into the velvet seat behind him, ¡°Woah. This is... so comfortable.¡± Talander maintained an eye on the Anathema from across the diner while Sonna and Claudius discussed their situation. Rejo wandered into the back rooms, having already reset his Mojo with the rock in his pocket. Yue stationed herself on the inside of the counter, positioning her weapons in case of an attack. A loud snore came from the kitchen before Sonna and Claudius could even broach their differing entrances. The Arido slid a hand down her face and nodded to Astraeus, ¡°If you¡¯re as good friends as you say with Dante, go check on his idiot.¡± With a sigh, Astraeus stood up and acknowledged her words. The old him would have utterly ignored such a weakling, but the Anathema had grown in recent months. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll see if I can find anything useful back there, too. Who knows what is here? This is an MD, after all,¡± Astraeus said before vanishing into the rear. Talander moved to follow him, but Claudius held him back. Then the Judge worked to ease the swordsman¡¯s fury, ¡°Put aside your vendetta for a few hours. Please. Just rest. I know you and Yue have fought little since we arrived, but I foresee many more battles coming.¡± An exaggerated huff came from Talander¡¯s reptilian lungs before he joined Yue behind the counter. The two whispered while Sonna and Claudius finally caught each other up to speed. Much had transpired since they last met up. 59 - The Skin Of Eyes ¡°There are those of flesh and there are those of energy. They are messy. Uninteresting. I intend to¡­ find an alternative path for evolution to walk.¡± Two women strode through the shrieking night, hurried yet slowed by the man between them. Lucius constantly nodded off, struggling to keep his eyes open as his arms carried his body resting on Joan and Rose¡¯s shoulders. Despite his impossible regeneration and the aid from the doctor and Miro, he hadn¡¯t recovered. A trail of footsteps lingered in the snow behind the trio while figures flashed amidst the trees. Joan¡¯s eyes flickered non-stop, attempting to glimpse them for even a second. Nonetheless, she failed, as they were faster than she could follow. Rose, however, felt her skin crawl. Her instincts and training told her that enemies had surrounded her. She could only rush forward with more impetus, towing Lucius more and more as his feeble legs couldn¡¯t keep up. Her flesh roiled with her Tide, the humid aura strengthening her body¡¯s muscles, bones, and connective tissue. With each step, she began to lead more and more, gradually leaving Joan unable to follow. ¡°Can¡¯t you go faster!?¡± Rosa demanded, glaring at her partner. The doctor groaned, reaching for a vial of adrenaline before realizing that she was all out. Her medicine bag had been draining for weeks, with a mere slight recovery. All her time spent making drugs was for perfecting Brute. ¡°Fuck. No. Out of stims. Any ideas, Miss Seafarer?¡± Snow leaks into their boots as they hurry and argue, the shrieks becoming more animated and feral. What left the women sick to their stomachs was that they neither knew the origin nor the direction of the howls. Rosa shook her head with a curse, ¡°Fuck you. Uh... What Tide do you have?¡± ¡°Marrow!¡± Joan shouted in a panic, stumbling from a hidden branch. The nearby tree rustled, leaving her kicking up snow to escape its reach. Yellow eyes hid behind the veil of twigs, and she noticed them for the subtlest second. The failed Judge stared at Joan, ducking under a branch while shouting, ¡°What the Depths does that mean!?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a Necto! Liquid and solid bone!¡± the ¡®good¡¯ doctor countered, huffing with each step. A transformation into the Pouncer would give her the speed needed to run away, but that¡¯d leave Lucius to die. The Martian was too beefy for one person to carry and run with. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have just said that!¡± Rosa heaved before droplets trailed down her face, sinking back into her flesh. The failed-Judge was doing the heap of effort here. ¡°I¡¯ve seen a Tide like that before! It was... uh... Pitch! The guy could coat himself with it! Make himself faster and stronger by combining the two states!¡± Rosa may have dropped out on her mission to become a Judge the first time, but she had learned much. After spending just one year with Centurion Heron, the woman had seen countless Seafarers, both strong and weak. Meanwhile, Joan¡¯s intellect meant she didn¡¯t need to be told directly what to do. The brief explanation filled her with ideas. The doctor remained limited in how much marrow she could control or summon, but shifting states felt intuitive. As such, she grasped the armor already formed across her body beneath her clothes. The minute plates guarding her vitals and ligaments twisted, deviating in and out of solidity. She moved their locations with each transition, pushing the pressure against her body. Her knowledge of the skeleton, musculature, tendons, and every other minuscule aspect of the body played the most critical role. Without such medical skills, she would have only injured herself. Instead, while barbaric and rudimentary in design, Joan succeeded in her first proper step toward mastering her Tide. She shot forward while her bottom arms thrust back and forth for momentum, catching up with Rosa in a few steps. The Tianshe laughed at the Harenlar in relief and said with a shake of her head, ¡°Fucking entire crew of monsters!¡± ¡°Thanks! Tell Dante that! He picked us all!¡± Joan giggled maniacally, relishing the feeling of surpassing her biological limits. Countless experiments burst into her mind like a night sky of fireworks. Once she returned to her lab, the woman would isolate herself for days to discover what she was capable of and how she could implement it into her Biotics. Rosa simply shook her head. Nothing about this crew made any sense. Lucius slayed a ¡®Thema all on his own without an ounce of Tide, while Sonna had an incredible talent for Arido. Then there was Archimedes¡¯ unheard-of skill with technology. After reading his file, Rosa knew he had a limitless future ahead of him. Now, even Joan shocked Rosa. The Tianshe had thought she was just a hired doctor with weird eyes. How wrong she was. Joan did more for Lucius¡¯ recovery than Rosa, and the latter had a Tide that specialized in healing. While Rosa never trained in that aspect, it was still potent. The only person Rosa found lackluster was the bizarre Araki. She had never meant one of his kind until Rejo fumbled with his incomprehensible words. He had a Qualae but never once showed his Tide, though his Stigmata nearly made up for it. Just about any of these people could have made it large on their own. How did Dante find them all? An eye for talent? Luck? Or... is it something more sinister? Has he been planning this all? I mean, who survives a run-in with a Caesar!? We really need to kill him. He¡¯s too dangerous. That Anomaly Designation is just waiting for him, I know it already. Rosa¡¯s mind spiraled as they two sprinted through the snow, gaining more and more speed with each moment. However, after a few minutes of running, the two noticed the howls had abated.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. They slowed, not spotting any movement behind the trees. Both panted from exertion while they shivered, the cold seeping in. Despite their own noise, though, nothing returned from the forest. No echoes. No ambient sounds. No animals. Nothing. Two pairs of eyes met each other. They shared no words. Both knew something was off about their surroundings. But what was it? Joan pressed a finger to her lips, signaling Rosa to be quiet. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the darkness, squinting into the shadows that seemed to stretch deeper than they should. Every tree, every snow-covered branch, loomed as if the night itself were watching them, waiting. Rosa nodded, setting Lucius down gently against a nearby tree. She crouched beside him, one hand on her weapon, eyes darting through the thickets. Her Tide swirled again within her veins, pooling just beneath her skin. Whatever was out there was no longer just playing games, and she could feel it¡ªtheir adversaries were closing in. The Centurion¡¯s subordinate prepared her most powerful technique. A swamp emerged in her veins, readied to explode with self-destructive force. Joan¡¯s pulse hammered in her ears as she strained to hear any sound or movement beyond the rustle of her own breathing. The silence had become oppressive, almost alive, as though the forest itself held its breath. She scanned the perimeter with trained vigilance, but the snowfall muffled visibility, shrouding everything in a heavy cloak of white and shadow. She wished she had taken the stockpile of Nullify left in her lab. Just one dose would have allowed her the calm and sensitive perception to peer through any fog. However, she would then have to deal with the addiction. Even after her many trials, she hadn¡¯t found a way around that yet. As she considered her options, a single crunch of snow echoed from behind them, breaking the stillness. Joan and Rosa turned sharply, muscles tensed and Tides raised, ready to defend themselves, but froze when they saw a man standing a few paces away. He wore a bright red sweater, the color jarring amid the snow-laden forest, and a soft, almost lazy smile played across his face. He exuded a casual air, his hands at his sides, a relaxed kindness in his gaze. But something was wrong. The stranger¡¯s calm, that unsettling ease amidst the bitter cold, gnawed at their minds. He stood without the slightest shiver, his skin free of any chill or goosebumps. And that smile¡ªa perfect, serene expression that never his eyes, glinting with an unnatural light. Worse yet, it was a human. Joan¡¯s eyes narrowed to thin slits, her hand already clenching a syringe. Rosa instinctively tightened her grip on Lucius, his arm draped over her shoulder like a dead weight. Her eyes never left the man as she took a small step back, pressing Lucius closer to her side. Joan felt a bead of sweat slide down her temple, her own body reacting, despite the cold, as a warning sense permeated her thoughts. She shifted, her marrow armor twisting in readiness beneath her skin. ¡°Evening,¡± the man said in a soft, inviting tone. ¡°I noticed you and your friends seemed... weary from your travels. There¡¯s no need to look so tense.¡± He spread his arms in a gesture of welcome. ¡°You¡¯re safe here.¡± Neither woman relaxed. The man¡¯s voice was too smooth, each word precisely measured, his gaze sliding over them with an unnatural calm. Rosa opened her mouth to respond but stopped short, uncertain. However, Joan found her voice. ¡°Who are you?¡± she demanded, masking her unease with a hardened tone. ¡°And what are you doing out here? Do you know Dante?¡± The man tilted his head as if considering the question with amusement, ¡°Just a passerby. Don¡¯t know a Dante, though,¡± he said, his smile unwavering. ¡°But I know these woods well. And I know a pair of weary travelers when I see them. The poor fellow there looks like he could use a proper rest, no?¡± Rosa¡¯s gaze hardened. She didn¡¯t trust this man for a second, not with Lucius failing to stay conscious and the distant howls still echoing in her mind. She shifted her stance, angling her body to shield Lucius from the stranger. If he indeed killed an Anathema like the evidence suggested, the Martian was the strongest of the three. Rosa couldn¡¯t let him die. ¡°Appreciate the concern,¡± Rosa replied cautiously, her tone laced with warning. ¡°But we¡¯re doing just fine. We don¡¯t need any help.¡± The man¡¯s eyes lingered on Lucius, his smile tightening ever so slightly. ¡°Oh, but I insist,¡± the figure fixed his tilted head, and the expression, though small, held a chilling intensity. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous out here, especially for those unaccustomed to these woods. Creatures lurk, you know. Things that don¡¯t belong in the warmth, scrounging to evolve in the cold.¡± Joan felt her mouth go dry at the bizarre rationale, ¡°Then¡­ what are you doing out here? Alone in the cold?¡± The man chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with something unreadable, ¡°Oh, I¡¯m never alone out here. This place is my home,¡± he paused, his gaze flicking briefly to Lucius, then back to them. ¡°And I take it upon myself to welcome all travelers who cross through.¡± Rosa tightened her grip on her weapon, sensing something dark coiled behind his words, though his tone was light. Her Tide rippled, strengthening her muscles, but something in her warned that even her full strength might not be enough. ¡°Thanks, but we¡¯re fine,¡± Joan cut in, forcing a steadiness into her voice she didn¡¯t feel. ¡°We¡¯ll be on our way.¡± The man raised an eyebrow, his smile now almost fatally curious, ¡°And go where? You won¡¯t make it far carrying him,¡± his voice dropped, each word crisp and deliberate. ¡°That is... if you make it at all.¡± Rosa felt a pang of fear flash through her chest, but she shoved it down, meeting his gaze with defiance, ¡°Is that a threat?¡± The man¡¯s smile never wavered, but the warmth in his eyes faded, leaving a strange, glassy look, ¡°Not at all,¡± he replied, his tone smooth and even. ¡°Merely¡­ an observation.¡± Joan¡¯s mind rushed with ways out of this, and a shiver crawled down her spine. She exchanged a quick look with Rosa, then tried to move Lucius another step back, hoping they could slip away without turning their backs on the unsettling figure. But the man noticed, his smile broadening as if he found their retreat amusing. ¡°Please,¡± he said, gesturing toward the deeper forest. ¡°Come with me. It¡¯s not far. I promise you¡¯ll find everything you could ever need there.¡± Rosa¡¯s hand drifted to her side, her fingers twitching over the grip of her dagger, ¡°And what exactly is it we¡¯d find there?¡± He gave a low chuckle, ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll see,¡± his voice was soft, almost a whisper. ¡°There are places, hidden places, where one can lose their burdens¡­ forget their pain. In them, you can become something new... something... perfect.¡± His eyes glinted, ¡°Doesn¡¯t that sound wonderful?¡± The weight of his words pressed against Joan¡¯s chest, a cold, invisible pressure that made it hard to breathe. The doctor¡¯s mind flared at the words given. Perfection was something she sought with her skills. Yet this felt utterly wrong. ¡°No,¡± she said firmly, though her voice shook. ¡°That¡¯s not what we¡¯re looking for.¡± The man¡¯s smile faltered just a fraction, and something dark flared across his face. His eyes, which sparkled moments before, now radiated an endless, hollow cold. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Joan glimpsed something behind his facade¡ªsomething ancient and malevolent, lurking beneath the guise of a harmless stranger. ¡°Ah,¡± His voice dropped, the pleasant tone slipping away. ¡°That is¡­ disappointing.¡± He took a step closer, and they could see that his skin was impossibly smooth, almost waxen, devoid of any flaws or signs of life. ¡°You know, it¡¯s rude to refuse an invitation from your host.¡± ¡°R-R-Run...¡± The drawn-out word came from between the woman. Lucius¡¯ muscles flickered with a false strength as his eyes opened through their swollen lids. Past the blood in his nose, he smelled dead flesh. The rotting meat swam through his senses and told him everything he needed. With a growl, he forced noise through his broken windpipe, ¡°RUN! He¡¯ll kill us all!¡± Neither woman waited a second before heeding the order. They turned around and hauled Lucius, sprinting away at maximum terror. Even through Joan¡¯s experience, her heart pounded like a rifle, filling her with unnatural dread. ¡°Oh, come now, Lucius. We wouldn¡¯t hurt you. We like you. You¡¯re just like us,¡± the words of the ¡®human¡¯ echoed into the branches, resounding from every direction all at once. Nevertheless, Joan and Rosa ran harder, pushing their bodies and Tides to the limit while they dragged Lucius. The Martian helped where he could, but he was in no condition to run faster than a car. The trees shook while they ran, the voice shifting from laughter to the rustling of trees. It was as if the word humored their struggle, their attempts to survive. Footsteps pounded into the snow, and several minutes later, they saw lights in the distance. Joan squinted while Rosa recognized some buildings attached to the luminance. ¡°Houses? What¡¯s that? A restaurant?¡± Rosa¡¯s breath heaved out each question, the few hours of running with such weight doing numbers on her stamina. Azure dribbled from Lucius¡¯ lips, but he was the one who replied to Rosa, not Joan, saying, ¡°It¡¯s... a diner. Human in origin.¡± Two nodding heads bounced before they slowed once more. In front of the faraway diner, they saw a crowd standing in front of it. None entered; they simply barricaded the windows and doors with their bodies. Joan shook Lucius carefully, ¡°Hey. What do you see with your eyes, Martian?¡± After the jolt, he grimaced, feeling a rush of pain. Even so, he ignored Joan¡¯s actions for now. The Martian¡¯s acute vision focused, sharpening on the crowd before he shivered. His gaze wandered to the inside, pulling away just as he saw the figures inside. He relayed the information with a cough, ¡°A horde of those... things. Inside, though, I saw Sonna and Claudius. A few others, too. Hard to be sure.¡± The mood plunged further. Rosa bit her tongue with indecision, ¡°How are we going to get inside then? That guy... he seemed pretty strong. If even half of them are like that...¡± Joan tilted her head, watching the crowd as she saw a few more saunter toward the diner. A serene quietude settled over them. Leisurely, they walked, just like the other one. He never ran. The damned creature only walked. ¡°I have an idea.¡± 60 - A Rats Resolve ¡°We do not choose the Tide; it chooses the broken. Blood whispers, marrow screams, oil conflagrates¡ªand the Devils listen.¡± Eyes shifted to Joan in utter silence. Neither Lucius nor Rosa spoke, waiting for the doctor to say her piece. While they watched her, the woman¡¯s eyes flittered all over, taking in the ancient buildings, worn roads, and bizarre people. Only then did she whisper, ¡°I have three Rats left. We¡¯ll sneak past them and climb into a house. If they can¡¯t enter the diner... the houses are likely the same.¡± ¡°Hmmm...¡± Lucius hummed, just lucid enough to agree with the idea. However, Rosa wasn¡¯t so accommodating with Joan¡¯s ¡®Biotics¡¯ because of their absurdity. She leveled her gaze toward the biologist¡¯s hands that dug through the medicine bag and demanded, ¡°You really think those houses are safe? Why?¡± Joan shrugged in response, having a plain answer, ¡°Does it matter?¡± and with a twist, she offered the Rat Biotic to Rosa. It was a blunt, slender syringe with an unknown concoction inside. ¡°It¡¯s only getting colder. And more of those things are gathering. They aren¡¯t humans. Humans... are never so apathetic. We need to get inside.¡± Rosa groaned in annoyance before sighing. She agreed, taking the syringe and decisively shoved the needle into her arm. A cruel smile beamed from Joan as the fluid entered the Miro¡¯s body. Bones cracked. Muscles contorted. A silent cry emerged from Rosa while Lucius received his dose of medication, too. A moment later, three rat-sized, hairy balls of intelligence stared at each other. The cold ruthlessly dug into their tiny forms, so they moved without hesitation. The three scuttled across the top of the snow, leaving only the faintest trace as they progressed. Lucius¡¯ wounds lingered, but the Rat suppressed them for now. It was Joan¡¯s supreme escape technique, including such a feature. Furthermore, despite what she had told them, she had one more dose in her bag, though she had to leave it in the woods. Joan rarely carried the stockpile of medicine she had, but for this mission, she did. As such, the bag meant more to her than almost everything. But for now, the group moved in tandem. Soon, they reached the street, escaping the cloudy snowbank and stepping upon the hard, cracked gravel. There, the claws of the Rats tapped slightly, and Joan slowed, gazing at her partners. With a motion of her legs, she showed the two how to be silent while running. Lucius and Rosa, both skilled in physical combat and athletics, picked up the technique with just a glance. Then they continued. A trio of tiny creatures, hardly noticeable under the moonless and starless night, approached the closest house. The three scrambled up the wooden, rickety stairs, landing on the porch. In the lead, Joan noticed the door having a hole in the bottom, just large enough for a small cat or a... Rat. After they scurried through, Joan stood on her hind legs, quick to order the other two around. Squeaks emerged from her mouth, but neither of her ¡®subordinates¡¯ knew what she was saying. They hadn¡¯t learned the language of mice yet. The thin Rat that was the eminent doctor shook her wee head. Then she pointed one paw toward the right room and another toward the left. Without another word, she strode forward toward the stairs that left upwards. A Martian and a Tianshe, both stuck in their minute forms, shared a gaze. Lucius had no complaints, for he could breathe without severe pain. However, Rosa¡¯s rage was building. She didn¡¯t ask how long the transformation would last! Worse, she couldn¡¯t understand a word from Joan. With a squeak of grief, she strode away toward the room on the left. She recognized it as a kitchen of some sort, though terribly antiquated. The paint peeled off the walls while most of the furniture and cabinets wilted, rotting onto the floor. With her acrobatic training from all her years as a Miro, she scampered up the leg of a chair to arrive at the table. Her nose twitched, discovering empty plates and utensils sitting on pallid napkins. What is this place? Is it some ruin? Again, her nose twitched as a whiff of flavor entered it. Rosa¡¯s head flung to face the cabinet on the kitchen counter. Without even thinking about it, Tides swirled within the Rat¡¯s powerless body, granting it a burst of momentum. A second later, the poor animal crashed into the porcelain counter, bouncing off the wall and into the sink. A groan escaped Rosa¡¯s teeny lungs as she deflated, giving up the struggle for a spell. The Rat sprawled out, deciding to rest while the other two explored the house. Lucius scuttled with care through the other room, doing all he could not to aggravate his wounds. It took only a few minutes for him to find what appeared to be a giant, fluffy bed in his eyes.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. A dog bed, huh? Hope always wanted a puppy. Zachariah, too. Meredith, though... The man-turned-rat crawled into the cushions, which had lost much of their comfort. Despite their age, he crashed into them, his eyelids drooping. I tried to convince her, but she just wouldn¡¯t budge. So stupid, I swear. I couldn¡¯t ever get her to change her mind once she had set it on something. It was so annoying. She¡¯d rather die than relent. The kids wanted the dog so damn bad... Lucius¡¯ muscles relaxed, and his mind held a final thought before he drifted into sleep. His dreams encompassed a fuzzy, person-less warmth. I miss her. One Rat surrendered to comfort and the other to fatigue. A third, however, had long mastered the cognitive modifications that the Biotics delivered. Joan surmounted the grand staircase after both her companions lost themselves. There, her eyes twitched every which way. After choosing a direction, she hustled across the carpet, her mind still calculating potential risks. While they entered the house, no one had confirmed if it was secure. The Rat tallied the windows and doors since she entered and continued as she searched the second story. Her allies couldn¡¯t understand a word she had told them, but she had to hope they received her message. There! A window is open! At the end of the hallway on the second floor, Joan discovered a window raised just a few inches. It wasn¡¯t much. However, it sent chills down her furry spine. Without the antidote stored in her bag, the Biotics would last around an hour. It varied for each individual, lasting the longest for Joan as she made them cater to her. Lucius would break out first, thanks to his prodigious fortitude and metabolism, and Rosa would follow thereafter. As such, Joan stared at the open window with determination. She had to close it. Who knew if one of those things could climb in? The doctor waddled toward the distant opening, gazing up at the vast height she would have to climb. But her mind flashed with an idea spawning from Rosa¡¯s earlier aid. Liquid bone jutted from the rodent¡¯s right paw, solidifying a moment later into a stair of gnarled white. The platform was minuscule, just enough for a creature as small as the Rat Biotic. If she were in her actual form, it would be impossible for such a construct to carry her. Joan¡¯s skills in her Tide paled compared to anyone else¡¯s. Even Archimedes understood his powers better at this time, for the woman didn¡¯t comprehend her Stigmata either. She followed the more standard timeline of a Seafarer, taking months to acclimate to her powers. Nonetheless, in this state, her Tide flowed as usual, but she drastically lowered the requirement for success. As such, in a fleeting series of seconds, she vaulted the windowsill and stood on the boundary of a chilly night and deathly white. There, her eyes peered into the rear of the house, and she shook with what she witnessed. A pair of forms rushed through the night at a blistering speed, one of whom ran without either of her arms. Joan saw them heading toward her house, with creatures leisurely in pursuit. Without waiting another moment, Joan rallied her Tide, forming bone claws to aid her pitiful form in dragging the window down. After a moment of tense strain, the glass met porcelain, and the doctor heaved an air of relief. Then she climbed back down, sprinting to the stairway with echoing taps from her nails. There was no need to be quiet until the two entered, so within just a few seconds, Joan lay prone at the top of the stairs. Her breath slowed, and her body grew dormant. The doctor prepared to run for her life should the two be enemies. ************************ ¡°Quick! To the door! Don¡¯t break it! The last ones laughed at it!¡± Hana ordered the faster Anathema as the two raced away from their predators. A long, jagged scar ran down Melody¡¯s chest, slashing open her clothes and revealing the undead tone of her flesh. Such remained proof of the two duos'' single encounter with the creatures behind them. One exchange left Melody, a Miro who specialized in body refinement, bloody and haggard. Even so, the two refused to despair. Melody burst through the third house they had tried, and Hana closed it behind her with a hand made of water. Then, the Miro exhaled with misery, bending over beside the house''s back door. With her hands on her knees, her eyes gravitated toward the door. Through the glass opening, she saw one of their hunters, a wrinkled old woman with a curved grin, staring into her soul, somehow just a step behind them. Both jerked backward in surprise, ready to escape again, but the door didn¡¯t twist open. ¡°Would you mind letting me in, dears? I am awfully cold out here,¡± it spoke as if it hadn¡¯t pursued them over tens of miles non-stop. The damned creature never moved quickly, as it neglected to sprint or leap toward its prey, but it was undoubtedly relentless. Hana laughed, manipulating another palm of her Tide to grip the cloth on the table from the kitchen beside her and lining it across the window. Her eyes searched the quaint house, noticing how diminutive it was. Three rooms composed the entire bottom floor, four if the center was counted that led to the stairs and allowed one to see the back door from the front. A kitchen, living room, toy room, and foyer. That is all there was. ¡°Check the upstairs for any open doors or windows. I¡¯ll get down here. These bastards seem to be unable to come in without permission. Odd, but I¡¯ll take it,¡± Hana offered a plan to her partner, and Melody agreed with a nod. The two split up, and Hana walked into the toy room. Her eyes noted the countless children¡¯s playthings, dragging her gaze across them without stopping¡ªthat was until she saw the sleeping Rat. Her voice entered the air without effort and with pure curiosity. ¡°Hmm?¡± She strode to the Rat while Melody wandered upstairs. The Hydro kneeled before the creature, finding it more than out of place. ¡°What are you doing here, buddy?¡± Hana¡¯s voice relaxed, her tension easing as her hands grabbed the slumbering animal. A soft smile resolved on her lips, and she carried the creature with genuine care. A hum arose from her lungs as she meandered through the rest of the trim house. After a mere minute, she confirmed all the entrances were shut, and a voice echoed from the second floor, ¡°All clear!¡± ¡°Same!¡± Hana returned her information as she entered the kitchen, setting the mouse atop the table with a tender touch. It opposed all she had done before, yet none witnessed the Anathema¡¯s true heart. Melody trotted down the stairs, still holding some of her garment against the wound to help it close. Miros healed faster than any other Tide, but the injury was not light. Were it just about anyone else, they would have died from the lone incision. However, the moment Melody¡¯s foot tapped the foyer¡¯s bottom, a weight reappeared within the kitchen. A clangor resounded from the table as it sank, and azure seeped over the brown wood. ¡°What the fuck?¡± Melody pointed a finger behind Hana, and the Hydro turned with bewilderment at the sudden noise. Hana readied to strike with a floating gun of water that conjured behind her. Yet a second look stopped her, ¡°One of them!? No... it¡¯s a Martian. Blue blood.¡± Melody remained confused, ¡°Okay. What is he doing here? Shouldn¡¯t we just kill him?¡± The Hydro twisted her head, thinking for a moment before recalling the figure before her. Then, she nodded, ¡°Yeah. He killed Zed.¡± ¡°What!?¡± Melody held her mouth in awe of the ¡®Sealess man before her. A nod cemented her disbelief, and the two prepared to kill the man before he awoke. But before they could, a tiny Rat shuffled out of the sink. Rosa''s beady eyes, post-transformation, met both Anathemas. In a mere second, the Tianshe acted, funneling her stored energy into a single burst of movement. The Rat erupted across the room, leaving a rocket¡¯s trail of humidity behind her, yet her timer ran out in the air. Joan¡¯s tests hadn¡¯t included a Martian or a Cultivator before. All her estimates on the timeframes were just that, estimates. As such, Rosa¡¯s enlarged form crashed straight through the kitchen wall, breaking open the foyer between the dining table and the stairs. With lungs spitting out dust and plaster, the woman lay in her demolition, spurring further confusion between the Anathemas. Still, hovering pistols of water sat in the air, pointed toward both the Martian and the Tianshe. Neither moved, one from unconsciousness and the other from sudden pain. ¡°Kill her! We can¡¯t have her break the window!¡± Melody shouted at her partner, for the Miro could not use her greatest weapon. Her Stigmata, Trifecta, would shatter nearby glass from the piercing noise, opening every window for the creatures to pile in. Hana nodded, already readying her weapons to shoot, but a squeak distracted her. The two Rats had left a profound impression on the woman, and when she glanced toward the newest sound, she found another one. However, this one didn¡¯t seem right. It stood on its hind legs beside the living room windowsill, in view of everyone because of the hole between rooms. However, the genuinely bizarre point was its hands. One paw pointed at the window, a tendril of bone pressed against the glass, and the other ran across its neck. The warning was clear from the tiny creature. ¡°Kill my friends, and we all die!¡± 61 - Morrows Light Inside the depths of Romul, lay a hidden chambers. All Praetors visit these ancient halls once, to implant the seed of their life, of their ''Sea. Hundreds of vials sat upon pedestals, droplets of varying Tides residing inside the specialized glass. One shook dangerously, signaling the doom of its owner. The Keeper, standing eternally in watch, rang the alarm through their communicator. Though, they knew it was too late. Hana lowered her raised hands with utmost caution, inching away from the fallen Rosa while dissipating her watery weaponry. She spoke to the rat, knowing it possessed intelligence, ¡°Okay. Okay. Okay. We don¡¯t have to fight now. Those things out there are the real enemy for now. We can do this later.¡± Beside the widely regarded strongest Anathema, Melody gaped and pointed at the groaning Miro as Rosa recovered from the crash, ¡°What!? They were with that human! The Martian killed Zed?¡± her fingers clenched closed a second later as she tossed aside her intentions. ¡°No. You¡¯re right. We can¡¯t stay outside any longer.¡± A simultaneous nod emerged from Hana and the rat, which Joan appeared to be. The former wouldn¡¯t have allied with Melody if it weren¡¯t for her logical thinking. However, the latter bobbed her tiny head as she foresaw this. The Dirge weren¡¯t suicidal, after all. They were only a little insane compared to Joan herself. As such, the two grounds fell into a deadlock. Eyes pressed into Rosa¡¯s flesh as she stood wearily and limped to Joan. With a whisper, she addressed the rat holding a spike of bone against the glass, ¡°Tides retain their full power in your damned ¡®elixirs.¡¯ Couldn¡¯t you have told me that?¡± Absent of the slightest hint of emotion, Joan¡¯s rat-face shook its head. Then, the doctor pointed out the window with a slim claw. The house¡¯s attention shifted from violence and tension to the figures standing right outside. Dozens of human-like countenances with mundane clothes and looks stared into the residence. Chills shrouded each individual inside, including the ¡®fearless¡¯ Dirge. However, as one looked closer, they could see over the creatures'' heads. Across the street, the diner lights bloomed, and within the broad windows, a man stood. Claudius Vermillion. Behind him, several more squinted their eyes, peering beyond the gap, but only the Judge stared without any impairment. The eyes of a Seer were not so easily befuddled. Rosa¡¯s voice shifted an octave, and relief flooded her mind. She waved toward her Judge and once more tried her specialized communicator. Static was all that echoed from the device. ¡°Shit. He can¡¯t hear us. Hey! You two! Look for a pen or pencil! We need to write to communicate with them!¡± Rosa¡¯s shout ricocheted through the house, locked within the surrounding walls. The woman shifted her gaze, pulling open a nearby drawer until Hana said, ¡°I can use my Tide to write in the air.¡± Melody and Rosa turned to face Hana. Neither could believe her words, asking in unison, ¡°You can write?¡± The vast majority of Dirge, Anathema or otherwise, couldn¡¯t read or write. Only those who had lived long lives without being forced into reincarnation had the time to learn such mundane things. Most Anacruxes could but among the ¡®Thema? Hana was a rare breed indeed. Even Astraeus only knew the simplest of written words. A translator would only help with other languages but couldn¡¯t teach one how to write. Scientists had not yet understood the complex and fine-tuned inner workings of brains. At least not to the open public. With a nod, the Hydro strode to the window as Rosa retreated to another closed sheet of glass. She held a hand against it while Joan continued to sit on the original window frame. The rat peered up at the Dirge while the latter began to write, following Rosa¡¯s words, ¡°Claudius. We. Safe. Rosa. Joan. Lucius. Who? You?¡± They had to keep the message short, for only one word could be drawn out of water large enough to be read across the street. However, the floating liquid worked, and the group of five soon received a response. Even Melody walked over, peeking into the window and over the eerie creatures that refused to utter a single word. Together, those who could read spoke Claudius¡¯ response equally made of Hydro, ¡°Don¡¯t. Open. Door. Me. Talander. Yue. Sonna. Rejo. Astraeus. Where. Is. Eight?¡± A moment later, the cracking of bone resounded. Joan, with her form-fitting clothes fabricated for such incredible stretching, shivered from the transformation. Once she was back in her four-armed state, the doctor immediately rushed to Lucius, doing what she could to help his condition without medicine. As she did so, Melody and Hana gnashed their teeth upon hearing Rejo¡¯s name. Joan gave them only a glance after a knowing laugh, ¡°Ah. Dante and Rejo got you bad, huh? Damn good team. Don¡¯t hold it on them, though. All¡¯s fair in murder and robbing Empires of their goods.¡± Both glared at the doctor yet left her to her devices. Joan glanced over for a moment while the discussion continued, manipulating her Tide to create a trim scalpel. ¡°Eight? Did you see him, Joan? What about you two, adolescent boy... Seems like Tianshe-hybrid of some kind? With a briefcase and can teleport?¡± Rosa questioned the Dirge after the surgeon, receiving only rustling heads instead. She lowered her eyes until the near her Hydro asked, ¡°What about this Dante? Where did he go? That was the human, correct?¡± Hana¡¯s hopeful question emerged soon after the initial confirmation. ¡°Is he dead?¡± Again, no one knew for sure. As such, Hana thought up a reply while wishing she had the chance to kill the three who forced her to enter without ample preparations. Then she wrote it into the air out of water, ¡°Unknown. Dante. Unknown. Seen. Geist. Ghost?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The inquiry into the Caesar who brought her here received a swift reply, ¡°No. Will. We. Fight. Morning. After. They. Leave?¡± This proposition targeted Hana and Melody in particular. Inside the diner, Claudius had already come to terms with Astraeus¡¯ presence. He would deal with him for the time being as he saved many lives before the entry into the Inferose. Had the Frigo not fought Hana and Melody alongside Rejo and Dante, Claudius¡¯ whole Jury may have perished. However, the Judge did not bury the hatchet. He only moved the time it would sink into Astraeus¡¯ neck to a further date. Both were aware of this. When it came to Hana, though, things were entirely different. Astraeus had toppled one planet. He was only the catalyst, not the genuine destroyer. Hana was different. The Gunwale had slain several planets in search of power. Her Domain Collapse brought the might of her Tide to newfound heights, allowing her to raze a world and cut off their SOS signals. Furthermore, Claudius knew Astraeus and his abilities. Hana and Melody, however, were unknowns, which raised his vigilance. In any other place, he wouldn¡¯t have asked such a question. He would have just ambushed Hana after careful preparation. But his mission here wasn¡¯t her death. It was the Inferose¡¯s core, and after witnessing the lethality of the monsters within the MD, he found himself desiring its power. This place was mighty. More than Congress thought. More than the Empires thought. It was beyond the imagination of anyone who arrived on Gladius C seeking an edge. Perhaps only Praetor Sun held this MD at the appropriate height in her mind. Neither of the two parties was aware of the Praetor¡¯s battle outside. Still, she held nothing back, prepared to die for victory. The question of conflict lingered in the air for several minutes as Hana and Melody shared a glance. The latter spoke first in their discussion, ¡°How does he know they¡¯ll leave?¡± Hana shrugged but found no fault in Claudius¡¯ words, ¡°Dunno. But they weren¡¯t here while it was day. Only after the ¡®sun¡¯ set. I think... we don¡¯t fight. With all their numbers and wounded... we can outrun them. All we have to do is watch out for the schizophrenic.¡± The two Dirge had long discussed Rejo¡¯s madness. They had never heard of a Domain Collapse with such odd behavior before, even Mystique ones, other than from the truly insane. Haile, one of the famed Sovereign Talents of the galaxy, held her factionless position thanks to her impossible Domain Collapse. After just a few exchanges, she could completely control someone, deciding their life and death. The Araki¡¯s wasn¡¯t so absurd, but it wasn¡¯t that far. Its strength would be linearly scaled with the figure it was attached to. In fact, in Hana¡¯s mind, such a thing was only possible because he had set it up for such a weak individual in the first place. Had he chosen a more powerful being to set the connection to, it likely would have directly backfired or killed him after the one use. Everyone knew the Lightsea did not grant strength without first taking its commission. Hana and Melody continued their talk for several more minutes while Rosa shuffled over to Joan, ensuring proximity to a window with the monsters. The Tianshe and Harenlar stood beside each other, quiet for a bit. Eventually, the Judge-to-be opened her mouth, ¡°Can you create some poisons for those two? Seems we¡¯ll have to fight them, eventually.¡± ¡°Hmm... Maybe. Aren¡¯t Miros immune to poison, though?¡± Joan¡¯s acknowledgment wasn¡¯t quite what Rosa wanted to hear. The doctor remained in a location with no tools and an entire dimension away from her portable lab on their ship. Rosa nodded but lifted a slim finger toward the more dreadful Dirge. She lowered her voice to a mere hum and said, ¡°Mostly. Hana is the bigger threat. Make something for her.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Joan spoke simply, not deigning to share any more details as she continued helping Lucius. She wrapped the lingering wound with cloth, packing the injuries as much as she could. Then, she fed him, taking the rotten food from the table and slicing it up with the scalpel to feed him. She wasn¡¯t worried about poisoning or making the man ill. Martian physiques were robust, even in such a condition. His survival hinged on their providing nourishment. Without calories and nutrients, even the most peerless body would falter. And so, hours passed as the Seacursed and the Seablessed stood opposite sides of the house. The former tended to the Martian while the latter gazed across, pondering their next move. Rosa dozed off, only awakening upon the glimmer of morning light sprinkling through the window. With frantic blinking, the Tianshe shook in alarm. Her body shifted in a flash, and she stood up from the chair to find Joan fiddling with Lucius¡¯ body. Melody and Hana sat inches from the door, prepared to leave at any second. ¡°What are you doing to him?¡± Rosa pressed Joan for an answer. The doctor replied with nonchalance, as if such a thing were normal, ¡°I¡¯m seeing how my experiment did. Quite good. I think with just a few minor changes, Brute will be done. The question is... what¡¯s next? Rat is escape, Pouncer is mobility and assassination, while Juggler is an excellent method of ranged attack. Brute is, of course, raw physical strength with the benefit of regeneration. Any ideas, you three?¡± Heads turned to Joan just as the door across the road dinged open, the bell chime announcing Claudius¡¯ exit. Upon seeing the Judge stepping out of the building with his hand on his Executioner, the pair of Anathemas ran away. They were outnumbered and had already experienced a fight against Astraeus and Rejo. The former was strong with a tricky Domain Collapse, while the latter was the primary reason none of their enemies had fallen. Mojo was a Stigmata that looked simple in design and use, but Rejo brought out its fullest potential with his madness. Even if the brains of the operation weren¡¯t here, neither wanted a rematch with so many more enemies. Hana believed in her Domain Collapse¡¯s ability to overwhelm Astraeus, but there were simply too many unknowns. Zed, a Miro that both respected, had died to just one of these people. Out the back door, both escaped, running with incredible speed. As they rushed, Rosa noticed Hana¡¯s arms had fully recovered. Joan saw her surprise and explained, ¡°I turned on the sink while you were sleeping to give some water to Lucius. Who knew her Stigmata let her heal with water...¡± Curses dripped from Rosa¡¯s mouth, but she didn¡¯t wait any longer. She lifted Lucius from the table and brought him out the door, staggering toward the Martian¡¯s crew. Shortly, two groups stood across from one another on the road. They had already merged into their sides, though they stared at a torn-apart corpse on the ground. Its origins were apparent, some kind of Dirge with bizarre snow-like flesh. However, such a discovery only exacerbated the worry in their hearts. Claudius raised his gaze from the dead Frigo to look at Sonna, Rejo, Joan, and Astraeus, with the Araki now carrying the unconscious Martian. Behind Claudius hid Rosa, Talander, and Yue. It was four against four, with a fifth incapacitated. The numbers were even, yet neither side held confidence against the other. Both were missing some of their most influential figures, namely Eight and Dante. The Vermillion Jury traditionally boasted more raw power, yet without the Cryo, they had lost the edge. However, it was unknown how they would genuinely fare in a battle without Dante to lead the misfits. The crew existed as a beast with many heads, all pulling in different directions. None of their eyes sat on the same mountain, which remained their greatest weakness. Astraeus¡¯ presence shifted the balance, though. Claudius eyed him warily and spoke, ¡°Let¡¯s split up here. We need to head toward the light for the core, but I don¡¯t think we should go all in today. Slow is fast. Fast is slow. Who knows who else got in here? Shall we return to the diner at night?¡± The tenuous allies agreed on their meeting point, though it was unknown if anyone truly intended to return. Claudius left first, having his Jury follow him out of the town. They eyed the old-fashioned and ancient buildings oddly before disappearing over the hill. Such left Astraeus with Dante¡¯s crew. Joan immediately stepped up to him and poked his flesh while whispering observations under her breath. The Frigo ignored her, long understanding her oddities through Dante. The Anathema opened the mouth on his shifting face as his features settled toward the bottom of his jaw, ¡°Dante told me much about all of you. Mostly Rejo and Joan, but bits about the rest. Happy to meet you all. I hope we can work together until we find Dante in here.¡± Joan raised an eyebrow, gazing at the taller figure while measuring his hands, ¡°He¡¯s in here?¡± ¡°Yes. Should have come in right after me with that Eight fellow. I didn¡¯t tell the Judge that,¡± Astraeus spoke honestly. The Anathema fit right in as Rejo soared a high-five toward the man. Astraeus lifted his own in defense without knowing what to do, and the two met with a loud clap. After a sharp fit of laughter, Rejo patted Astraeus on the back, ¡°See? He¡¯s not so bad! I know we fought him before, but he didn¡¯t kill any of us. Dante wouldn¡¯t let him. He¡¯s really strong, though! You should have seen us against Hana and Melody! Oh! And Dante¡¯s amazing! He was practically immortal! Sure, his Hydro didn¡¯t compare to Hana¡¯s...¡± Sonna covered the rambling Araki¡¯s mouth with her devouring mist, eating the noise as it left his mouth. Hardly a peep slipped through the Arido as she stood up to the Anathema herself. Sonna felt the least comfortable about adding a murderer of such scale to their operation. Definitely not the crew. She thrust a finger toward the Frigo, not taking no for an answer, ¡°Promise you won¡¯t attack us. I¡¯m not as insane as these two are. Lucius would be the same if he were awake. Swear on the Lightsea.¡± Astraeus sighed, lowering his head. The Dirge knew ahead of time that only a few of them would possibly trust him. Sonna wasn¡¯t as comfortable with violence as the others were, and Lucius¡¯ beliefs may require a feud of death between them. Thankfully, the soldier wasn¡¯t conscious when they met. ¡°I promise. I swear I won¡¯t hurt any of you unless you hurt Thanaris or me. Or Dante.¡± The oath entered the air and echoed into the bright atmosphere, reflecting the pure-white snow around them. Sonna breathed deeply, preparing herself to work alongside such a monster. ¡°I got it! A Dirge! I¡¯ll make a Biotic to turn someone into their element like a Dirge!¡± Joan proclaimed with profound fondness as she held up a snowflake, previously peeled off Astraeus¡¯ flesh. It had blended into the man¡¯s abyssal flesh. Then she relaxed, realizing that she had long lived with a monster. Rejo nodded to the doctor before Sonna merely strode away. She didn¡¯t head in Claudius¡¯ direction but a bit to the side. Rejo had already marked the Judge with his Mojo, not that Cladius knew. They could use it to verify the other group¡¯s location if need be. The crew had agreed to help Claudius, but only until the entrance. Now that they were inside... Sonna¡¯s lips grew as she demonstrated her own brand of developing insanity. Perhaps with the core... I, too, can become strong. 62 - Revenants And Reunions This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. 63 - Long Is The Gray Night The streets of Romul crowded with people as a festival began. Joy spread like wildfire, as the capital of the galaxy found itself brimming with potential and prosperity. However, as Head-Praetor Crownlean took stage, her hair tied into a knot and with traditional Praetorian robes flowing to the platform below, shadowed gazes looked onto the square. A storm brewed within the depths of the Empires. Dante sprinted through the tundra, his breath clouding the air in sharp bursts. The icy wind, growing denser with each stride, clawed at his face, but he paid it no mind. His every step propelled him forward several yards at a time as his augments, and Tide enhanced him beyond any mortal limit. Though the augments fell behind in their usefulness, they kept the human together, allowing a greater force of Hydro upon his body. Ahead, the distant flame pulsed like a beacon, appearing more significant and prominent to his gaze. His boots pounded against the snow with the help of water, following the faint tracks of his crew, half-buried in the fresh powder. Dante broke through some barrier, some trick from the Inferose, and his vision shifted. The faraway light resolved into an unmistakable form as it finally came into a focused view¡ªa fiery column rising into the sky. It wasn¡¯t just flame. The shape converged as he closed the distance, and dread settled in his chest. It was the same burning visage he had seen in the Inferose¡¯s rift. Back then, it was blurry and indistinct, impossible to discern. But now, he put the pieces together. Beyond his gaze, an inverted, charred body staked into the ground by roots, its infernal petals spreading wide. A grotesque flower that should not exist, casting its unnatural glow across the desolation. His pace quickened, urgency gripping him as the fire faltered. The light wavered, dimming as it sank deeper into the column¡¯s body. The dark silhouette of the rose seemed to writhe against the dimming glow, feeding on the last remnants of its fire. That¡¯s how night and day work here. Shit. Shit. I need to go faster! I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s out here at night, but it¡¯s definitely not good! Dante clenched his teeth and pushed harder, each movement swifter than the last. He had to reach them. He considered asking Eidolon for help, but he wanted to save the ¡®man¡¯ for a later battle. After witnessing all of Geist¡¯s powers, the human had many ideas for how to use him in a fight. So, he could only drive him to move faster, to grit his teeth until his jaw ached. Only then did he feel as though he were running fast enough, already transcending a motor vehicle¡¯s speed. Minutes later, faint voices pierced the howling wind. Relief and dread mingled in his chest. He recognized the sharp tones and heated words before he saw their figures. As he crested a snowy rise, the scene unfolded before him. A hulking man stood with his fists clenched, streaks of cobalt-blue blood still seeping from his bandaged wounds. His broad shoulders heaved as he roared, his voice echoing through the tundra. Before him loomed a featureless humanoid of pure, abyssal darkness, its presence oppressive, almost suffocating. If it were not for Astraeus¡¯ clothes, one could have mistaken him for a silhouette instead of a Dirge. Sonna and Rejo stood to the side, their faces tight with frustration as they tried to hold the burly Martian back. They failed, with the sole virtue being Lucius¡¯ still-mending wounds. Joan knelt nearby, her focus divided as she sifted through the remnants of her medicine pouch, her expression as grim as the frostbitten landscape. Her mind tallied up the remains, sighing as there was only a single Rat, Pouncer, and Juggler. However, she had the materials to create one last Brute¡ªthe one she owed Lucius. Such an observation also caused her eyes to shift to the soldier. With the movement of her vision, she spotted Dante first. A long grin extended between her ears, and she stepped aside to watch the show. The dark-haired human skidded to a stop at the edge of the scene, his chest heaving. Astraeus retreated, tossing his arms up as he didn¡¯t want to fight with any of Dante¡¯s crew, but Lucius insisted. The Martian growled, shouting at Joan while he drew his axe, ¡°Give me the last Brute!¡± ¡°Hmm... That¡¯ll kill you, though...¡± Joan¡¯s reply lacked a trace of emotion, only furthering the Martian¡¯s rage. He swung again at Astraeus, blocked by a wreath of Frigo, the pale defense stopping him in his tracks. Still, the rage ballooned, now unleashed from Lucius¡¯ past hallucinations. After seeing such madness, Dante leaped between them with hesitation, his arms raised, his voice cutting through the tension with a burst of Hydro. Lines of water instantly emerged from his right hand, not even a mote of preparation as Matchlock birthed the pressurized liquid. With the Tide, a line scrawled between the two. ¡°Enough!¡± he barked, his tone sharp but steady. ¡°Calm down, all of you. We don¡¯t have time for this!¡± The Martian¡¯s glare snapped to him, blazing with fury, but Dante met his eyes unflinchingly. He didn¡¯t even let Lucius speak before pointing his finger directly at Joan, holding a gathering of water, ¡°Stop egging him on. Astraeus, just back up for a second. And Lucius...¡± Two pairs of azure eyes met one another, profoundly rare colors in the sea of stars. A challenge passed in their gaze, and Dante stepped closer to the soldier. ¡°Relax. Things with the Dirge aren¡¯t as straightforward as you¡¯ve been led to believe. Anyway, he didn¡¯t kill your family,¡± his admission of Lucius¡¯ past, which had hardly been mentioned, left the Martian stunned. ¡°We can discuss things later, but just know Astraeus isn¡¯t evil. I¡¯ve spent the past few months with him. We need his help to get out of here, more so if we actually want the Inferose¡¯s treasures.¡± Lucius¡¯ gaze softened, the rage simmering down. However, the fire in his irises remained, focused intently on Astraeus. Dante strode into the group and whispered to Lucius, ¡°Speak to him yourself. He¡¯s more childlike than you would imagine. I¡¯ve done what I can to help him, but you¡¯re a far better mentor than I.¡± Then the human continued, stepping up to Sonna, Rejo, and Joan to discuss the coming night. With their information, he discovered the monsters that emerged during nightfall, all of them appearing to be human. While Dante spoke to the others, Lucius vibrated with an internal fury. His thoughts jumbled about without direction until he caught onto Dante¡¯s words. The soldier¡¯s heart twisted, recalling Archimedes isolated on the ship. He thought about the boy being utterly alone, with no one to protect him or guide him. ¡°Astraeus?¡± he asked, turning to confront the faceless being.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The Dirge nodded with open palms, showing he didn¡¯t want to fight. Lucius returned a curt nod and said, ¡°How old are you?¡± Astraeus tilted his head and tapped a clawed finger on his chin. Then, he answered, ¡°Not sure. Between one and two Standards. Past lives? Who knows?¡± The Martian fell silent after the answer. Without speaking another word to the Anathema, he walked past him as if ignoring him and stood beside Sonna. With a shrug, Astraeus fell into the group¡¯s discussion, listening intently. ¡°The Inferose is dimming. Night is coming. Do we head back? I don¡¯t enjoy heading into unknowns. Does anyone know what is ahead?¡± Dante asked around, and a bunch of shaking heads met his question. However, before he could order the rest to turn back, the fishing pole on his back shifted into the ghostly figure of Eidolon. The Revenant Tide spoke with earnest curiosity, ¡°I saw the path ahead yesterday while I was exploring! There are a few tiny huts beside a wall of fire. However, the wall only emerged when night fell. Before that, I couldn¡¯t see anything. It was like an illusion had fallen over the place.¡± Heads flipped to the long-dead form of Geist. A million questions surmounted, and Dante handled them one by one concisely before turning back to Eidolon. He drilled into the man for more information, and he quickly received three points. First, the huts had doors but no windows. Second, the wall of fire towered hundreds of feet tall. And last, the fire wouldn¡¯t spread, no matter what fell into it. With the gathered intel, Dante held the web of his forefinger and thumb against his chin. Joan and Astraeus voted to move onward toward the huts. Meanwhile, Sonna and Lucius wanted to retreat. It was half and half. Dante glanced at Rejo, the man picking his nose over his mouth-tendrils. As if struck by lightning, he stood ramrod and said, ¡°My vote¡®s yours, cap¡¯n.¡± Great. Well, let¡¯s be careful here. Apparently, Claudius was terrified of these things. That means... they must be strong. But how strong? I want to find out. I feel like they¡¯re the key here. ¡°Alright. Here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Let¡¯s rush to the huts. Astraeus, do everything you can to speed us up over the snow. Don¡¯t be afraid of exhaustion. Then, we¡¯ll stay inside for the night. I want to fight one and gauge their strength. Rejo, you¡¯ll tag me with your Mojo, and if you think I¡¯m going to get hurt, swap me for a rock,¡± Dante laid out his hobbled-together plan. No one piped up with alternatives, but Sonna for sure complained. While huffing, she followed as the group picked up their speed across the snow. All six felt the snow beneath them harden, easing the placement of force with each step. Eyes turned to Astraeus while the Anathema ran with furrowed brows, his focus placed not on running but on controlling his Tide. He conjured pockets of dense snow beneath each person, allowing their feet to produce greater force and increasing their speeds across the difficult terrain. Frigo was not the ideal Tide for such a thing, but without a Cryo here, Astraeus was the go-to. Had Joan¡¯s mastery been near his, she could have done a much better job by seeping marrow into the snow and then hardening it. Unfortunately, her Tide had grown little, which remained far beyond her reach. The distant stake dimmed ever more as they rushed across the landscape. Snowflakes of sweat dripped from Astraeus¡¯ forehead while azure spilled from Lucius¡¯ wrappings. Sonna panted out of exertion, and Joan contemplated expending her last Pouncer. Everyone felt the mantle of night encroaching and the death that would ensue. They pushed themselves to their limits, or what they could afford in some cases. Because he would need his Mojo later, Rejo didn¡¯t use it. So, he had to sprint with all his might, kicking and grunting just to keep up. Without a Tide to enhance him in some way or a physique that bordered impossibility, he struggled the most. Just as he felt the rock in his pocket, prepared to hurl it as far as possible to catch up despite his dwindling stamina, a shout came from ahead. Rejo craned his neck, catching the last bit, ¡°¡ªound it!¡± A great goofy smile dawned on his countenance, and the mercenary redoubled his efforts. The two words he struggled to hear gave him what he so desperately needed. Assurance. He worried he¡¯d fall behind and not make it to the huts, even with his Mojo. But now, he felt confident he could make it with only his legs. A minute later, Rejo crested the rising snowbank, and he discovered a scattering of wooden huts. A bustling laugh emerged from his windless lungs, and he stumbled with such relief. One foot after another, he lost balance and tumbled down the hill in a matter of moments. Snow cascaded with him, building up a minor avalanche. When he came to a stop at the bottom, mere feet from Dante¡¯s boots, only a single crimson hand peeked from the frosty disaster. The human bent over, clasping his hand over the Araki¡¯s palm, ¡°Never cease to amaze, Rejo. At least you descended the hill the fastest.¡± Once Rejo climbed to his feet with Dante¡¯s help, the man moved to dust off the snow sticking to him. Then, he saw what Eidolon mentioned about illusions. The six gazed beyond the huts, finding a blazing mist awaiting them. It shifted and spun without purpose or design. The other side hid from their eyes as the sky continued to lose its luster. Before anything untoward could happen, Dante shouted to his crew, pushing the closest to him¡ªRejo¡ªtoward a hut. Shortly, they all entered a hut. Inside, they realized just how cramped it was. There was hardly room for everyone to sit. Standing was the only way they didn¡¯t bump or press into each other. Rejo glared at Lucius¡¯ giant body with blame, but the soldier ignored him. Dante spoke to his crew and Astraeus while night collapsed upon them. He told them about Thanaris, the battle outside, and hinted toward the Dirge¡¯s true selves. Countless questions popped up, but he forced Sonna and Lucius to wait while he continued. ¡°As for what happened to me, I have a different Stigmata now. There was this... person inside of me, like you with Rejo, Astraeus. He was the actual source of my Tide and Stigmata. I had to regain a Qualae after he abandoned me, entering this place. And he looks exactly like me. Any ideas what that¡¯s about, Astraeus?¡± Dante pointed the question to the Anathema, as he had appeared before them in the same way. However, the Dirge shrugged. He didn¡¯t have the answer Dante desired, ¡°That came from an Effigy, the Lunghider. A remnant of a dimension like one of these, though far weaker. Thanaris paid to use it from her master for our mission. I don¡¯t really know much about it, though. Master just had me hop into it while she entered hibernation. But if you had someone inside you... are they here now?¡± Dante cursed and shook his head, ¡°They¡¯re here, but just in the Inferose. Not inside me now. We¡¯ll want to be careful. He was... unfathomable.¡± ¡°That explains your sudden mastery of your abilities and then the slow growth. I thought you¡¯d surpass me in days, but it¡¯s been months,¡± Astraeus added to Dante¡¯s words with his own thoughts. The human had grown from nothing to a near-expert with his Tide and Stigmata in a single night. Such was unheard of. Claudius saw Sonna as a genius for barely manifesting her Arido and using her Stigmata a single time in so little time. It only made sense if this figure caused Dante¡¯s rapid growth. The human nodded, and he opened his mouth to say something else but got a single word out, ¡°Friday¡ª¡± A tapping upon the hut¡¯s door echoed within the confines, chilling all inside. Goosebumps ran along Dante¡¯s flesh as a female voice followed, like that of a siren, entering the innards of his ears as if there was no wall, ¡°Dante? It¡¯s me. I¡¯m out here.¡± The voice belonged to no one he recognized, but it sent his mind spiraling nonetheless. Sonna gripped his shoulder with a comforting touch, and he nodded toward her as thanks. Joan scoffed, brewing something in the corner, ¡°Get over it. We all hear voices. Nothing new.¡± Rejo nodded, her words making sense to the Araki, but the rest of the crew gaped at them in concern. Dante shook his head. Joan was more than likely lying for her own amusement to make him feel worse. Rejo... he had never been right in the head. Therefore, the captain ignored such oddities. He gave Rejo a thumbs-up and prepared to fight, talking over the woman outside, ¡°Count to five. If you hear ¡®Pancakes!¡¯ pull me out, okay?¡± Rejo¡¯s head bobbed again and again. Then, he prepared to count but stopped himself. ¡°Why ¡®ancakes?¡± he asked with a naive tone. ¡°Fucking hell. Because I¡¯d never say it in battle otherwise,¡± Dante¡¯s patience strained to the limit with Rejo¡¯s antics. However, he knew this was the mercenary, not just some facade like Joan put up. He would restrain his anger for someone as loyal as the Araki. Rejo nodded, discovering Dante¡¯s wisdom. Still, he had his own misgivings, ¡°O¡¯ay. I might, ¡®ough... but yeah. Five...¡± ¡°Four.¡± ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Two.¡± ¡°One.¡± ¡°Did you ¡®ean on go?¡± Rejo asked blankly but paled as Dante glared at him. A moment later, a rock replaced the human within the hut. At the same time, Dante teleported outside with the activation of Mojo warping space. There, he found a lone figure standing eerily before the door. It existed within an ounce of movement and looked identical to a human in every way. However, Dante knew they couldn¡¯t be people. So, he lowered himself onto the snow and, with careful movement, crept toward the woman. Inch by inch, he shuffled forward until she suddenly twisted around. Their eyes met, a mere arm¡¯s length apart, and a shriek emerged from her lungs. Nails soared for Dante¡¯s throat with glee, ¡°Yes! You¡¯ll do just fine!¡± Water burst from the human¡¯s feet with the noise of a snap, thrusting him backward with such speed that it surpassed reaction. Dante¡¯s Stigmata had triggered, burning his Tide crafted for movement that was stored within Matchlock. Even so, a thin line of blood trailed down his throat. The creature had almost decapitated him. A frown formed on Dante¡¯s face and the being opposite him, but neither moved for a moment. The man wiped the blood on his neck before twin grins emerged under the flickering wall of flame. The sudden light drew attention from no one. Both human and monster stared at each other without distraction. Dante reformed his charge within Matchlock before the creature dived for him once more. Expecting it, the man evaded just barely, his legs crashing into the snow. While retreating, his right hand flew up into a contorted motion. Pressurized water erupted from his hand without build-up. It slashed into the monster¡¯s side, tearing open flesh and slicing bone. However, the being didn¡¯t show any semblance of pain, nor did it bleed. It merely gazed at the wound like a spectator before lunging at Dante. Again, he jumped backward, but then he heard a shuffle of snow behind him. ¡°Pancake!¡± Air whistled for his neck with a silent hiss, but before Dante lost his head, he collapsed within the hut. Eyes concentrated on the leaking scratch on the back of his neck, about the size of a paper cut. ¡°You alright?¡± Sonna offered a hand while motioning for Joan to help. Again, the doctor scoffed, as her eyes had already checked Dante. However, the man didn¡¯t accept the assistance. His gaze turned right back to Rejo. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Send me back out there. I think I can kill it.¡± 64 - Scalpels Are Sharper Than Knives ¡°The Lightsea does not hate us. It forgets. And that is worse.¡± A figure materialized in the snow¡ªtall, scarred, his right eye slashed by a jagged line. The cold gnawed through his threadbare shirt as he steadied himself, boots crunching faintly against the frost. Silence choked the night, broken only by his breath. Before him, the human-like monster turned slowly, its eyes glinting with unnatural malice, the lines of its form shifting in the dim light. Its features were almost mocking to a man like Dante. How long had it been since he saw one of his kind? Two years? Three? He couldn¡¯t remember for sure. The similarity only made his actions more decisive. Dante moved first¡ªalways first. His hand flicked, water erupting in a serrated arc that cleaved the old woman¡¯s torso. He pivoted, snow crunching underfoot as a claw raked the space he¡¯d vacated. The second creature lunged, jaw unhinging with a wet snap, lips shredding to the ears. Its scream wasn¡¯t sound. It was a drill to the skull. He hit the snow, rolled, and thrust his palm skyward. A geyser of water erupted, battering the second creature into a pine trunk. It staggered¡ªbut only for a breath. By the time Dante found his footing, the first monster was already whole again, tendons snapping taut like bowstrings beneath papery skin. Its wet snaps of tendons and muscles knitting together sounded like taut wires snapping into place. Dante¡¯s breath disseminated into the air with a visible mist, the hurried and doubled usage of Flick, his most powerful creation of his Tide, weighing heavily on him. Eidolon sat on his back, humming as if asking a question, but Dante had no time to answer. The two grievous lines upon the human-like creature merely made it appear more fierce. Snarling from countless fangs, it barreled toward him. Behind her, the younger monster dropped to all fours and pounced, its claws carving through the night. ¡°Pancake!¡± Dante barked. The word tore through the chaos¡ªa lifeline. No escape, no retreat. Only the gamble of survival. In an instant, his body vanished, replaced by the tiny stone he¡¯d left behind earlier. Inside the mud hut, Dante manifested, his chest heaving as he nodded briefly to Rejo. His rapid breath fogged the air, but there was no time to linger. With a surge of focus, he reentered the fray, ¡°Again.¡± Dante reappeared outside, a foot behind the old woman¡¯s snapping jaws. Her distorted face twisted in fury as she lunged, but he was faster. The Tide in his body had already formed upon his fingers before he stood out in the cold air. ¡°Missed me?¡± he taunted, his voice sharp. Water shot from his fingers in a controlled stream, slicing through the air with sheer brutality. He held the torrent for a second longer than usual, his focus narrowing as he extended two fingers like a blade. The stream carved into the monster¡¯s neck, severing it cleanly in a moment of perfect, deadly clarity. But victory came at a cost. Such focus robbed him of any other senses in pursuit of his goal. A second claw raked across his side, the younger monster¡¯s strike biting deep before Dante could react. He staggered, but before he could fall, Matchlock, the Stigmata, borne of his soul, triggered. Before the nail could sever his inner organs or clip his spine, his fingers snapped. Rippling waves yanked him out of the creature¡¯s immediate reach, tumbling the man through the snow just in time. Pain seared through his torso, but Matchlock acted upon its catalyst. It deployed the last of its charges, wrapping his gaping wound in a sheath of wobbling water. The cold pressed tightly against his flesh, staving off the bleeding. His vision swam for a moment as he steadied himself, one hand clutching his side. Dante¡¯s gaze swept the tree line. Shadows pooled at the hill¡¯s crest. Then they moved. Figures, three, four, more. The ¡®young man¡¯ grinned, teeth glinting like shards of obsidian. A flash of pain seared through his innards, and he glanced down. No crimson stained the snow from him. Instead, dark green blood, thick and unnatural, seeped from the dead monster, spreading a sickly hue across the frost. He met the monster¡¯s eyes again, both glaring with raw hatred. The creature snarled and sprang at him once more while two more strode with leisure from the woods. ¡°Pancakes!¡± Dante barked, vanishing once again, his voice trailing behind him like a promise of slaughter. However, the man held no such misgivings within the hut. He promptly collapsed to the floor, drained of energy and feeling a profound agony from within. He sputtered out his demand, staring right at Joan, ¡°Something¡¯s in me! Get it the fuck out!¡± The doctor nodded, kneeling beside him while opening her pouch. She waved at Rejo and Astraeus, her hands urging them to move. Both did so without question, while Joan set Dante against the wall. Her eyes fell to the bubble of water, keeping Dante¡¯s insides from leaking to the outside. She twisted her head with a thin smile, ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to drop that, y¡¯know?¡± Dante laughed through the misery with a nod, his veins and arteries bulging, ¡°Yeah, I made it as a precaution! Just... fuck... It¡¯s in there!¡± The water receded while all eyes were on the doctor, even those of the now-solidified Eidolon. His presence was ignored for a moment as Dante''s injuries were severe. Her grin broadened as she found a unique situation before her gaze. The laceration on her specimen wasn¡¯t too large. Maybe requiring ten to twelve stitches at most. Inside, though... With a razor-like scalpel and pliers definitely not meant for living tissue, Joan dug into Dante¡¯s organs. Her enthusiasm raised with each of Dante¡¯s pained groans. Every movement she made left his hands gripping the mud floor tighter and tighter. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Joan¡¯s tongue flicked in concentration, her secondary arms pinning Dante like a specimen. The scalpel plunged deeper. Blood pooled maroon on the floor. If she took pleasure in his pain, her face didn¡¯t show it. Still, no one said a word. Not even the patient. He felt a sensation worm into his flank, delving deeper to his inside. But right as the pangs neared his heart, it stopped. ¡°Got it!¡± Joan announced as she ripped a squirming strand of vomit-green. It fought against her pliers, but the woman refused to let go. Her eyes analyzed it and found out its origins in but a moment. ¡°Some kind of plant? See the end here? Those are roots. No animals has these. But it¡¯s eating your insides and growing from the blood spilled on it. How peculiar. I¡¯ll name it the Heart-seeking Root.¡± The doctor raised the voracious root toward the rest of the crew, yet everyone shrank back against the walls. Without the burrowing pest in his organs, Dante spoke through gritted teeth, ¡°Okay. Okay. Put it in a vial or something. Stitch me up.¡± A glare shot toward Dante, but the man met Joan with an unflinching gaze. After a heartbreaking sigh, she slid the Heart-seeking Root into a vial of blood. Of course, such nutritious fluid originated from the human before her. Regardless, once her specimen was safe and sound, she returned to the pale Dante. In but fifteen seconds, she already stitched up the wound, cleaned it, and shoved a handful of pills down his throat. With her captain sorted, Joan scurried to a corner, shoving Rejo aside, and examined her vial. Everyone else ignored her normal insanity, for now, probing Dante with questions. ¡°Did you ¡®ill ¡®em?¡± ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Looks like a razor blade cut you.¡± ¡°Three Flicks. You¡¯ve grown since I saw you last.¡± Dante shuddered as he exhaled with slow, careful motions. Then, he answered his crew one by one, starting with Rejo, ¡°Yeah. I beheaded one. Three more are out there now, though. One of them scratched me,¡± his hands shook before stabilizing themselves. ¡°It could have been way worse. I should be good now.¡± The man had fought many times in his life. However, the rush of adrenaline in a contest for survival never grew easier to handle. The repercussions almost always left people needing time to recover. Nevertheless, after a few short breaths, Dante forcibly brought his focus down to earth. He stared at Joan for a second, lamenting the lack of Hemomarat. Without it, he couldn¡¯t replenish his lost blood and close the wound fully. It would be left stitched up for several days at best. However, as his gaze swept by Sonna, he had an idea. Hydro¡¯s weakness was sheer power and sharpness. It had been overcome with careful ministrations and absurd focus. Dante reversed the weakness and made it a strength. Can the other Tides do similar things? Could Cryo become pliable? Thermo become grasping? Could... Arido give instead of take? Instantly, the man asked Astraeus a question, pivoting off from the most crucial matter, ¡°Can you develop Tides in opposite directions? Can Arido give life instead of taking it?¡± Astraeus nodded, his head switching to face Sonna. The Anathema gauged her for a moment. Then, he turned back to Dante. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s called Yin-Yang or Reverse. Extreme heat gives birth to extreme cold, and vice versa. But... It¡¯s a technique that is so demanding in control and experience that I don¡¯t know anyone who can do it. Plus, I''ve heard it''s not without cost. Nectos can¡¯t do it at all, so Thanaris never taught me much about the method. The Judge would probably know a little more,¡± Astraeus¡¯ long explanation was met by profound interest from every crewmember. Even Lucius gazed at the ¡®Thema like a treasure trove sat before him. ¡°Claudius. Eight. Pick their brains about Reverse Tides. If you can heal instead of devour¡­¡± Dante¡¯s voice frayed, but his stare hardened. ¡°¡­we might live long enough to regret it.¡± The petite woman bobbed her silver hair. Her mind had already jumped to the same conclusion as her captain. She pondered how she could bestow vitality to another instead of merely devouring it as her mists always did. Her contemplations deafened her from the ensuing conversation. Under Rejo and Lucius¡¯ demand, Dante returned to the bout with the monster. He detailed the short battle and how he decapitated the elder. While he was doing so, Joan shuffled over, her eyes bloodshot from study. ¡°Rosemen,¡± Joan declared, holding the vial aloft. Inside, the root writhed, tendrils knitting into a miniature torso. ¡°The bodies aren¡¯t grown¡ªthey¡¯re woven. And this¡­¡± She grinned. ¡°¡­is the thread. They are all made by these roots.¡± The analysis stunned the others. Even Astraeus hadn¡¯t heard of anything like this before, but none argued. She was the expert, after all. In the next moment, the doctor also handed Dante more pills. She promised that he¡¯d be healed within a single day with her help. The man could only trust her expertise, as she knew his physiology the best. Dante shrugged after downing the medicine. He addressed everyone before closing his eyes for rest, ¡°We¡¯ll check out the corpse in the morning. Hopefully, the Rosemen don¡¯t take it. Worst case, there is plenty of blood.¡± Joan¡¯s pupils dilated at the word blood. She retreated to her vials, humming. Lucius and Sonna lingered, eyes locked on Dante. Ten seconds. That¡¯s all it took for his breathing to deepen, for the tension in his jaw to unravel. Ten seconds to collapse from soldier to corpse-in-waiting. Twenty later, Rejo had joined him, though this vice-captain snored with a reverberating echo. ¡°Like that? He¡¯s out? Not going to tell us about all that he¡¯s been through? Or listen to our time?¡± Sonna complained with eyes on her captain, annoyed to the ends of her hair. Beside her, the muscled Martian laughed softly. He relaxed his body, joining the others for rest. His physique recovered unnaturally fast, but even Lucius needed sleep after what he had endured. Still, he patted Sonna on the shoulder and shared her gaze, ¡°He¡¯s a soldier, like me. Maybe not in the title, but he is. After this, he¡¯ll talk. We¡¯re all in crisis mode right now. Give him time.¡± Astraeus bowed his head in agreement. A clawed finger pointed right toward Dante before sweeping toward all the other figures and eventually landing on Rejo, ¡°Lucius is right. In my time with him, he would never stop talking unless he was training. Always a story to tell, a lesson to teach, or a pain to endure. Though, the red-skinned one received the most tales.¡± The admission raised Lucius¡¯ eyebrows and prevented him from falling asleep. He probed Astraeus for more information on what Dante had told him, and in minutes, the three had a lively conversation. Even Eidolon joined into the discussion, breaking his usual silence slowly as the others gazed at their newest member, "I must say. I am surprised Dante is not a Necto. He fits the bill in my eyes. Unfortunately, not all of us are as blessed as they are." At first, those awake seemed rife with unease near Eidolon, but they gradually warmed up to him. Dante had said they made a deal earlier, but the dead man himself was willing to share much of his knowledge regardless. Sonna and Lucius soon asked the Revenant Tide countless questions while Astraeus added just as many. With each passing moment, the ¡®Thema learned how odd the human he had traveled with was while Sonna learned more about her Tide than she thought possible. With two Dirge speaking to two sentients, the two ¡®Seacursed,¡¯ as Astraeus put it, discovered the depths of a Dirge¡¯s mind. Lucius¡¯ fiery rage softened bit by bit until a soft smile emerged on his face when Astraeus mentioned the chainsaw that Dante had found for the Dirge. The way Astraeus¡¯ face brightened despite the darkness embedded into his face brought a laugh to the pair. ¡°Perhaps... you aren¡¯t all that bad, Astraeus. But... why did you do all those things on Crislend?¡± Lucius¡¯ pressing concerns couldn¡¯t stay inside his heart. He didn''t say a word to Eidolon, knowing he had already paid for his sins in death. The current being seemed more than regretful. Still, the Martian needed some answers. He couldn¡¯t travel with a monster. It would destroy his will if he left it alone. Sonna, too, wished to know the reason for Astraeus¡¯ massacre. After speaking to him at length, neither saw the murderer. They only saw the man¡ªa man dedicated to a possibly evil master, but a man nonetheless. He had his own ambitions, interests, and feelings. Just as Sonna had fallen in love with controlling her Tide, Astraeus was the same with his talents. The Weren strayed from her Stigmata, fearful of its power. However, he dived into his Stigmata and Tide in equal parts. His pure joy in advancing his skills was plain to see in the way he spoke. Still... as Lucius¡¯ question entered the air, the room froze. Astraeus¡¯ body shivered, and he scuttled to the side. The Anathema refused to face either of the two. Sonna raised an eyebrow at Lucius in response to the oddness. While pursing his lips, the Martian sighed and slid down the wall until he was comfortable. Without another word, he entered his dreams, wondering what was in Astraeus¡¯ mind. He had noticed the hints of restraint in the Anathema¡¯s answers as if something was stopping him from speaking freely. Yet he couldn¡¯t guess why. ************************ Malnourished fingers hastily typed upon a keyboard, inputting constant commands while a boy spoke to himself. After almost an hour, he had finally become the administrator. His eyes trailed over the surface of the planet below as a complete Domain Collapse shattered the power of the Heron¡¯s Wing. The lack of lights frightened him, but Euclid¡¯s presence, the secondary mind within him, calmed him. It provided him a pillar to rely on as he turned over and looked every which way. Time is ticking. The thought burrowed into his mind as he gazed into the darkness. While on the other ship, the lack of light spawned over a dozen Anaphage to prowl the corridors. Here... Isaac worried the same would befall the Heron¡¯s Wing. Domain Collapse. It¡¯s odd that it causes Dirge to appear like this. Is that the case even when it originates from others? I guess it still connects to the Lightsea, right? Maybe it¡¯s not that odd. Those who can create Domains can deal with Anaphages like they¡¯re nothing. ¡°They aren¡¯t like me. Weak,¡± he spoke while stumbling through the Heron¡¯s Wing. A piece of him called him to enter its depths. Euclid. It was guiding him. His partner was too tired to speak after being killed, devoured, and saving the boy¡¯s life. All it could do was guide him. Archimedes obeyed. Blood smeared the floor in his wake, footprints blooming crimson. Darkness swallowed the corridor, but the ship¡¯s schematics that he had glanced at briefly months ago flickered in his mind¡ªa map etched by his gnawed nails. Glass shards bit into his soles. He barely felt them. Euclid¡¯s pull was stronger. Minutes later, as the invisible clock ticked toward the first appearance of a monster, Archimedes stood in the bowels of the starship. He brought his hand toward the engine, the heart of the masterpiece. The boy did not yet understand how such things worked. He had never found a manual no matter where he hacked into or what he stole. None of his forced crimes were related to the construction of starships, so only the publicly available knowledge reached him. Still, he knew vastly more than most of the sea of stars. However, as he opened the latch to the engine, he grew curious at the absence of heat. Pythagoras imagined that a starship would produce excessive heat in its core. But it didn¡¯t. The slide revealed to API a sight beyond his wildest imagination. Instead of an engine, a piston, or some other kind of mechanical device, there was a beating heart in the core of the ship. It pulsed faintly before the genius¡¯ eyes as something suppressed the organ. 65 - Burning Gambit ¡°We named our strongest ¡®Gravity¡¯ because all things bow¡ªeven light, even time. But Iroh¡¯s magnets still hum his childhood hymns.¡± - Ostacean field engineer¡¯s diary, recovered from a dead star system A vermillion-haired man stood in a cellar, staring at the wooden doors that protected him and his crew. His eyes flickered with an unnatural sheen¡ªa faint, ghostly glow that pulsed as he glimpsed the future he¡¯d narrowly escaped. Upon meeting with Eight, the teen suggested building a hut out of the Cryo¡¯s Tide. However, Claudius¡¯ Contract-evolved Stigmata knew better. He squinted, both feeling and smelling the spilling of blood. Structures made of Tides did nothing to prevent them from breaking in. With Eight, the group could handle several of the creatures together. Furthermore, the knowledge of their terror prevented a sneak attack from killing anyone instantly. But survival was a fragile thing here. Kill one Roseman and two more slithered from the shadows. Claudius¡¯ true eyes peered between the cracks of the wooden hatch. There, he met the waiting old man. He could see the unnatural smile hidden on the other side. As usual, it sent chills down his spine. Each time he ran through his Veileye, his stamina drained significantly. A lone use left him gasping with blurred vision, tell-tale signs of overtaxing his mind as well. He wagered that he could only afford to use the ability once in a fight. Any more than that, and he would no longer be doing the fighting. As he peered beyond the slit, he considered exchanging for that sight again, no matter how much it left his eyes watering. ¡°You really should restrain those things, Claud,¡± said the boyish voice beside the Judge. Claudius, hating the nickname given to him, faced the Anomaly, who lounged on a crate. The older man¡¯s gaze bore into the younger¡¯s eyes, yet Eight continued eating his rations. While smacking his lips, he continued, ¡°Never expected you to actually make a Lightless Pact. Those old fogeys who thought your Seer half-Designation wouldn¡¯t amount to anything would spill tears seeing you now. Anywho, be careful with those eyes.¡± Instead of arguing with the annoying runt, Claudius nodded. While Eight possessed a unique charm for antagonizing others, he was a genuine expert in such matters. The matters of Anomalies. For that was what Claudius had become the instant he dotted the pact with his soul. All that he missed was the numerical Designation. Why? It was simple. Seers couldn¡¯t grow. Not normally, anyhow. Their abilities were decided by their birth. Psions had potential equal to the moons, but their counterparts must resign themselves to their fates. Seers couldn¡¯t grow. Lightless Pacts couldn¡¯t give that which was impossible. Nevertheless, the deal worked. Some of Claudius knew it would when he made it, but it still shocked him. Anomalies were those with abilities that held endless potential for good or evil. The Judge now fit inside that narrow slice, not that he¡¯d ever reveal it. Eight¡¯s dominion over space proved his Designation, not just allowing him to dive in and out of the Lightsea but to reopen rifts to other dimensions. It held a boundless future, should the boy live long enough to see it. Claudius was the same. He may only peer a few seconds into the future currently, but with the Lightless Pact, such a time would grow. He had sacrificed his potential for eyes that could see truth. More accurately, he made the trade to speed up their development and awaken that understanding of what always lay beneath. All power bore a price. And his would not simply be his future. I can feel the strain even now. Distant objects are a little blurred. It¡¯s a little hard to focus both eyes. He¡¯s right. This could be an issue. I need to use it more carefully. ¡°Talander? Could you craft me an eyepatch? I need a way to not overdraft both eyes,¡± Claudius turned his head to the seated swordsman, sharpening his blades. The scaled Irgen nodded and got to work without complaint. While the swordsman worked on the floor, the two women in chairs upon the only table in the cellar looked to Claudius. Rosa spoke first, motioning to the outdoors, ¡°Are we going to fight any of them?¡± A nod met her question. Claudius glanced back at the slightly blurred hatch. He bit his own teeth in frustration at the loss of sight. All he could do was hope that it would return. ¡°Yeah. The second we hear them dispersing. Eight. You¡¯re gonna teleport up there. Grab one and bring them down here,¡± ordered the Judge as he shifted his attention directly toward his strongest Cryo. The grin on Eight¡¯s face broadened into what would only remain on a villain¡¯s maw. With a short laugh, he patted his clothes for any remnant crumbs. Then, he hopped off the crate, ¡°Why wait? I can do it now. And I don¡¯t think we have to be so worried about that wall of fire. It¡¯s just a few hundred feet or so, after all.¡± Their leader furrowed his brows, entering deep thought. Once more, he considered peeking into the realm beyond with his eyes. But he ignored the notion. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He couldn¡¯t rely on it too much. Instead, he nodded. It was soft, just enough for Eight¡¯s smile to reach its zenith before he spoke, ¡°Fine. Let us prepare.¡± ************************ The forest screamed as Hana and Melody crashed through it. Hana¡¯s body blurred¡ªhalf-water, half-woman¡ªher Tide-fueled jets shredding frost-laden ferns. Orbiting her, liquid bullets spat from azure spheres, punching craters in ancient pines. Melody¡¯s hums warped the air. Every third note cracked the earth, toppling trunks like dominos. But the Rosemen kept pace. Always there. Always grinning. Yet even her enhanced strength and speed, Tide twisting her body into something beyond human, wasn¡¯t enough to grant a reprieve. The monsters stalked them still. A pack of humanoid figures, their twisted bodies half-shrouded in darkness, loomed in the periphery of the chase. They lingered just out of sight. One second, there was nothing. The next... Their faces stretched into unnatural grins behind branches, mouths tearing wider with every step. Despite their slow, deliberate movements, they never lagged, never fell behind. Instead, they murmured dissonant, chilling phrases that had no bearing on the situation. ¡°Do you think the stars are cold?¡± one rasped. ¡°Is this how you sing for your lives?¡± a second crooned. ¡°How do animals survive in the wilds?¡± another echoed. They didn¡¯t run. They didn¡¯t even lunge. If struck down by Hana or Melody, one would retreat, melting into the shadows to mend itself while another seamlessly replaced it. They were patient, calculating, and unrelenting, as though they knew their victory was inevitable. Hana managed to kill just a few throughout the half-night. Even with her firepower, slaying one in a single blow from so far was challenging. Furthermore, after countless miles and countless attacks, Hana¡¯s breath began to falter. Though forged in many battles for endurance, her body screamed for reprieve. Between gulps of frigid air, she turned her head slightly toward Melody. ¡°Domain Collapse?¡± she bellowed with awful inhales, her voice raw. Melody, slick with sweat and her own enhancing Tide, didn¡¯t falter in her stride. Her hums shifted briefly, breaking their cadence as her voice answered, sharp and resolute, ¡°No. Then we won¡¯t have it for Dante or Claudius when they catch up.¡± Hana growled in frustration, her teeth bared as her mind scrambled for alternatives. She could feel her Tide depleting, the reservoir within her ebbing like an outgoing tide. Melody, too, was slowing, her hums losing the sharp edge they carried at the start of their flight. She couldn¡¯t help but curse their bad luck. They hadn¡¯t found any more buildings. Perhaps they should have run back to the town. Yet, the chance that the others were advancing as well prevented them from doing so. And then, as Hana contemplated their decision, cutting through the howls and murmurs of the pursuing monsters, a voice emerged. Deep, smooth, and wholly unexpected. ¡°Hmm? Fancy seeing you here, Hana.¡± Both women skidded to a stop, their momentum sending sprays of snow into the air. Their Tides bristled in response, prepared for yet another threat. Hana¡¯s floating weapons of water swirled defensively, and Melody¡¯s hums sharpened while her palms raised, vibrating the snow beneath their feet. From the shadows ahead stepped a man, his figure cloaked in black, his face obscured by a low hood. Despite the encroaching monsters, he seemed entirely at ease, his voice carrying an almost mocking warmth. Hana¡¯s eyes narrowed, her body tensing, ¡°You...¡± The man chuckled softly, raising a gloved hand as though to wave away her aggression, ¡°No need for that tone. I came here in peace. The shelters have already been taken by the two other groups. That leaves us alone out here. With them.¡± As if on cue, one of the monsters emerged from the darkness behind him, its warped, bestial face twisted into a manic grin. The man didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, a jagged cleaver erupted from his palm, bisecting the creature mid-stride. The monster¡¯s body crashed to the floor before detonating with a muted explosion. ¡°Now, we really must be moving,¡± he said, lowering his hand and turning his sharp gaze to the two women. ¡°We still have to figure out how to get past the Second Trial.¡± ¡°Second Trial?¡± Hana and Melody asked in unison, their voices melding together. Shadows crept on the edges, primed to strike, but the three communicated a bit further. Friday nodded and explained, ¡°Yes. The First Trial was the illusory field to the entrance. The Second is the monsters and the wall of fire. As for the Third... I can only guess,¡± while talking, the man pushed through a bush and waved for the other two to follow. ¡°This Inferose is based on these three concepts, fire, evolution, and flora. The illusions were a kind of heatwave, and these creatures... well... you¡¯ve seen how resilient they are. Just like a weed.¡± Hana rushed to stay behind Friday with Melody on her tail. The three hurried as the Hydro thought aloud, ¡°So that¡¯s why people appeared in groups of three? Three concepts? Are you sure there will only be three total trials?¡± Against her questioning, Friday shook his hood. He possessed no definite answer and made it clear by stating, ¡°No. There could be more. That¡¯s just my best guess. This is the third MD I¡¯ve entered and by far the strongest. Stay with me, and you should be fine. But remember, do not touch a petal.¡± Neither Hana nor Melody asked what the petal was. They knew deep down. It was the dimension¡¯s inheritance, its power. However, her suspicions grew as Hana listened to the mysterious man speak more and more. Church Of Flesh. Why is he telling us so much? He could just refuse the information, even if it is helpful. Unless... he is planning on inviting us to join? No... he gives me a different feeling. Hana¡¯s eyes narrowed as she came to a cruel realization. He doesn¡¯t think we¡¯ll make it out of here alive. The strongest Anathema reigned in her words, not mentioning a single word as they ran through the forest. After a full hour, the three stood before a towering wall of crimson fire. It held the color of a fresh drop of blood yet didn¡¯t burn the snow around it. While standing before the flame¡¯s light, Friday lowered his hood and spoke with misty breath, ¡°We need a way through the fire. Hmm... This cold is quite bothersome. Okay. We¡¯ll hold our ground here for the night. Perhaps a way forward will emerge with enough slain monsters.¡± Hana met Melody with a worried glance, but they both kept quiet. Short nods ended with them falling into combative stances. Creeping figures lumbered toward them with odd voices and even more bizarre words. Still, the three met them without any remorse. A cleaver severed limbs, detonating the remains to prevent any regeneration. Countless rounds of ammunition erupted from floating firearms, downing dozens of creatures. Notes resounded into the night sky, with each third shaking the distant trees. Slowly, gradually, the burning figure reignited, and the day returned. Hana and Melody gasped for air with their hands on the invading snow beneath them. The battle had wrung them dry. Even the unknown Friday wasn¡¯t without his own fatigue. Sweat dripped from his hood, concealing his face. Still, he cursed the Inferose as no clues emerged on how to breach the flaming wall. ************************ ¡°Dante. Dante. Dante. The Heart-Seeking Root!¡± Joan shouted into the human¡¯s ear, waking him up just as light reemerged from under the hut¡¯s door. With a hand pushing the woman back, the captain groaned out in annoyance, ¡°What...?¡± The doctor shoved a tray into Dante¡¯s face with pure elation, ¡°Look! It¡¯s practically immune to high temperatures! I performed an exothermic reaction with some of my spare chems, and it was unharmed by temperatures reaching a thousand degrees!¡± Slumbering eyes blinked themselves awake, all whipping around to face Joan¡¯s crazed manner. Even Dante had to wipe the sleep from his eyes first, but once he did, his heart pounded. Joan didn¡¯t say it aloud, but he understood what she alluded to. ¡°The Rosemen. They are the key, just as we thought,¡± Dante set a hand on his doctor¡¯s shoulder. They had been through much in the past, and once more, he felt reassured that he chose her. For all her eccentricities, none could compare to her passion. ¡°Amazing work, Joan. How could we use that to pass through the wall of fire? Would covering ourselves in their guts work?¡± Snarled noses met Dante¡¯s propositions, though they now saw the idea. However, Joan tilted her head in confusion. ¡°No. No. That¡¯s not what I meant. If they can resist such temperatures, then it likely goes both ways. This is an incredible breakthrough. If I can figure out how their cells manage the heat and cold, then I can create ways for us to do the same! Maybe... even control the temperatures one day!¡± Joan¡¯s sky-high ambitions shined through even the Inferose. She wasn¡¯t thinking about solving this puzzle. That, in her mind, was left to Dante. The doctor pondered futures that had yet to be. Her madness stood unrivaled under the heavens, perhaps only matched by someone like Rejo. Nevertheless, Dante didn¡¯t knock her down. Even as Lucius laughed off the proclamation and Sonna snickered under her breath, the human merely nodded. ¡°That is... impressive. But for now. Please focus on this. How could we get past that wall?¡± Dante redirected Joan¡¯s focus with his plea, hoping that it would work. Thankfully, the scientist shifted her attention from the future to the present. She glanced toward the door as if recalling the fire during the night. Then, she laughed with a merry joy that the others rarely saw. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? Since their cells regulate the temperatures, we must wear only their flesh and walk through them. Or... intake their cells and assimilate them.¡± 66 - A Descended Palm Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. 67 - One By Six The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. 68 - Jack Or Queen Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. 69 - The Ignited Flame If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. 70 - Second Hearts Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. 71 - Dead Captain The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. 72 - A Sweet Taste This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. 73 - Atop The Altar Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. 74 - Time Is Power A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. 75 - Matter Not Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. 76 - Red Tears "There will come a time when hands no longer reach for the seas of light and instead dig for the dirt beneath the jail''s cracks. When this comes, do not fight it. Embrace the change. Embrace the world for what it is." With Claudius and Eight''s departure, Judas found himself stared down by two lingering figures¡ªa human and an Anathema. Both held countless injuries and scars, showcasing the struggle they had overcome to reach this peak. Blood spewed from Dante unceasingly, a ticking clock for his remaining breaths. Still, he demanded answers while Judas knelt, ¡°Who are you! Tell me! I doubt I can kill you here, but I swear, Judas, I will make your life a living hell.¡± A scoff rang from the copy of Dante¡¯s younger, yet aged-up, brother. The human, deep down, already knew the truth. He just refused to acknowledge it. Nevertheless, he, stemming the blood in his gut, crouched before Judas. Astraeus shifted closer to help his struggle, but Dante waved him back, bringing his own face inches from Judas¡¯ scowl. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you made a Lightless Pact. Or two of them. Or why. I am in the dark about countless things. But... Judas. You. Do. Not. Want. This!¡± Dante¡¯s eyes glowered with the azure wrath of an endless, raging ocean. Again, he inched a little closer to emphasize his point as Judas merely laughed. ¡°Tell me. Or I will be your eternal enemy. There are none I am unwilling to bend and work with, but... I will make an exception. I will hunt you and yours down across the galaxy. I will scrounge up every minuscule detail about your life. I will ruin you. And if you don¡¯t think I can...¡± Dante¡¯s pupils met Judas¡¯ pits of nothingness. He stared into the abyss and did not flinch as it returned his gaze, ¡°Tell me. Do you think I am incapable?¡± The long-hidden fury within Dante emerged all at once, yet it remained bottled by his mind. Years and years of loss, guilt, and grief warred for the chance to tear this man apart for answers, but Dante restrained it all with a shivering coldness. For now. Finally, Judas responded with a furrowed brow as the Lightsea itself wrought ruin upon his figure, ¡°You are a splendid foe. But no. You are not my match, young man. However, I welcome you to try. Run yourself ragged for the mere glimpse of my coattails, Dante.¡± The words from Judas settled into Dante¡¯s mind in but a moment. They detonated the rage piling within him all at once. No longer could the facade hold back the fire. His hand, clutching the dagger from his own duplicate he had slain, sang for Judas¡¯ throat. But it never reached. A featureless hand caught the blade, pierced through the palm. A firm grip held Dante as his entire body began to tremble. Astraeus pulled his friend away as Dante fought back. ¡°Hey! He¡¯s baiting you! I bet you striking him back would only help his condition! I don¡¯t know much about Contracts. Less about what they do! Think, Dante. Think. Use that brain of yours, not your heart,¡± Astaeus'' shifting eyes met Dante¡¯s, and the human began to calm. Not enough to quench the fire within, but it allowed room for his thoughts. I need to... No. He¡¯s right. That fucking smile. It¡¯s what he wants. So what? Am I just supposed to leave? Without any information on him? Or my brother? Dante clenched the dagger in his fist before throwing it to the ground with force to implant it into the Inferose¡¯s peak. Then, he took one last look at his ¡®brother¡¯s kneeling form with a building resolution, ¡°We will meet again, whoever you are. And when we do, I will kill you.¡± Judas raised his head toward the challenge, and his grin revealed the truth, ¡°Perhaps I was wrong. You are not capable. But you gather enough to make yourself An interesting path. However, masterminds don¡¯t make it far in our world,¡± the man gradually stood as he spoke. His body shook while an illusory river restrained his arms, legs, and throat with watery chains. ¡°Power is what matters most. No matter how brilliant you are, you will be crushed underfoot without the power to match it.¡± Without looking back, Dante shambled toward the shimmering rift in space, held open by Eight. The teen nodded to the two approaching figures as his face crunched by the strain of his Stigmata. However, just as Dante¡¯s foot slammed against the fracture¡¯s edge, Judas spoke a last time, ¡°I shall await our next meeting. Your brother had the talent but not the perspective. You have the perspective but not the talent. You and the Seer have swayed my plans a little, but that is no matter. Let¡¯s see how far you can go. You. And you alone may call me Ego, for we share the same Sin wrought by our awful world.¡± The instant Judas¡¯ words flew over, Dante turned his head, but the portal had already closed, leaving him to see only devastation. However, amongst the ruins of the planet he had landed upon only a few days ago, he found his crew. Lucius sat on a scorched log, pushing the slumbering head of an Araki off his shoulder. Sonna complained from her prone position on a stretcher, with Joan working atop her. Astraeus held Dante¡¯s shoulder as the captain strode forward. He gave his crew a thankful nod before turning to face Claudius. While propped up by Astraeus with Joan already rushing to close his gaping wound, Dante addressed the Judge, ¡°Claudius.¡± Every member of the Jury met the captain¡¯s word. Eight held the Fruit O¡¯ Mirror under his arms against his suit while Talander and Yue prepped their weapons. Rosa stood beside the Judge, and Claudius narrowed his eyes. ¡°Will you have trouble with Lucius? Or us?¡± Dante asked with blood trailing down his lips. Despite his condition, none looked down on the human. Without him, they would have all died in the Inferose. Claudius¡¯ bloodshot gaze shifted away with a sigh. Once more, he had to concede, ¡°We won¡¯t. Nobody is in the state to continue fighting. But once the information about this place gets out, no promises. The higher-ups will want Lucius¡¯ Inheritance. They will want your knowledge. And they will want Joan¡¯s medicine. If the Anathema stays with you... that will only add to your bounty. Will they send us? Maybe. Maybe not. But they will send someone.¡± Dante nodded with relief. Then, he waved to the Judge. They had fought together. They had bled together. If circumstances were different, if their births were different, they could have been allies. Friends, even. But not in their world. ¡°Very well. Next time we meet...¡± Claudius returned the nod and finished the words, ¡°... will end in your death,¡± as Eight Dived, teleporting the whole crew away and into the distance. In just a moment, only Dante¡¯s crew remained. A weight left their shoulders as those that were still awake¡ªeveryone minus Rejo¡ªshared a laugh. They had survived. More than that, they had gotten stronger and claimed a part of the dimension. It was less than they dreamed but more than they expected. Before Dante had entered the Inferose, he wasn¡¯t sure if Lucius was a genuine member of his ideal crew. Now, he was convinced. Even if Dante had to change a little and mold his actions so as not to enrage Lucius, the Martian would stay. With a flicker of a thought to Ego, he opened his mouth, ¡°Everyone. We did it. Now, we just have to find a way off¡ª¡± Dante¡¯s celebration was cut short by a body bouncing across the terrain. Crimson blood sprayed from each impact until a crater skidded a groove mere feet from them. Eyes fell to find a woman, missing one leg and an arm, grunt and curse in pain. Stolen novel; please report. Thanaris¡¯ eyes twinkled as she noticed those above her. Instantly, she lit up with excitement upon seeing Astraeus. Without regard for her body, which leaked like a running faucet, she looked toward her student. ¡°Astraeus? How did it go?¡± The Anathema shook his head with sadness as he answered, ¡°I didn¡¯t claim any part of it. Lucius, Eight, and that Friday did. I did get stronger, though! My Frigo can form away from my arms, and I managed to get the Snowsaw working!¡± Thanaris¡¯ countenance flashed with a hint of disappointment, but she quickly hid her true emotions. Her shoulders cracked as her Domain, the bloodied moon above, redoubled its efforts in healing her. For the past two days, she had fought alongside Praetor Sun. At first, she merely wanted to escape, but that wasn¡¯t possible. Joseph was just too overwhelming. ¡°That¡¯s okay. What¡¯s important is that you¡¯re alive. Now... Go with Dante. I need to hold off, Joseph. I could¡¯ve escaped a while ago but burned my Tide Reversal to reignite my Domain Collapse. Otherwise, we could just go now,¡± Thanaris¡¯ face boasted confidence in her battle, something that transitioned to Astraeus¡¯ mind. However, Dante saw through the cracks. He knew how fragile Thanaris¡¯ position was. Without her Tide Reversal to escape, she was at a serious risk of death here. Furthermore, as she set herself upon protecting Astraeus, that would only increase the difficulty. Dante recalled Joseph¡¯s terrible might. And he saw the streaks of lightning in the distance grow larger. The man turned to face his crew to run as a crackle resounded from Sonna¡¯s pocket, halting his orders before they emerged. Dante nearly doubled over as he ran past Joan¡¯s care and Astraeus¡¯ help to grab the communicator from Sonna. He browsed through the screen while the noise of thunder intensified. Lucius¡¯ eyes sparkled as the seed he had laid bore fruit. A voice burst from the device, piercing through the Domain Collapse with the descending proximate of a roaring starship, ¡°Sonna! Dante! This is Archimedes! I see you guys! I¡¯m landing the ship!¡± ¡°No! Don¡¯t land! Swing around, and let us latch on! We don¡¯t have time!¡± Dante squeezed a button on the device, shouting over the thunder and engines far above that revealed themselves. Had the region not been laid to waste by the war upon it, the starship above would have been impossible to see through the countless trees. However, with the devastation, Dante could see the Heron¡¯s Wing approaching them with a blistering velocity. The captain gathered his crew together. Lucius held onto Sonna while Rejo blinked open his eyes. Joan brought her things together and gazed upward with a blank expression. Despite their movement, Astraeus stood beside his mentor. His Master. Dante shouted over the cacophony as Joseph neared and the Heron¡¯s Wing brought the winds to a hurricane¡¯s whirlwind, ¡°Astraeus! Come on! Rejo can tag her with Mojo!¡± Simply saying such a thing hurt Dante. After all, Rejo¡¯s right hand held not just any figure. It held Ego within its Mojo, and Friday on the other hand. The connection was priceless. However, to Dante, so was the Anathema. They had been through too much together. He knew Astraeus wouldn¡¯t leave without Thanaris, even if Dante couldn¡¯t care less about the Caesar. Astraeus shifted his featureless gaze, meeting Dante¡¯s blue eyes as the Heron¡¯s Wing hovered a dozen feet off the ground. Lucius leaped behind the captain, bringing Sonna up before dropping a rope down for the others. ¡°No. I¡¯ll stay here with¡ª¡± ¡°The hell you will. Get up there, Simmer, before I make you,¡± Thanaris interrupted Astraeus as her leg finished regenerating. With a single step, she soared forward, a tsunami of blood shifting into a piercing spear for her to wield. ¡°I will catch up! GO!¡± Dante only looked at Thanaris¡¯ vanishing form for a moment before returning to Astraeus. The Anathema¡¯s eyes fell as he sighed and faced his sole friend, ¡°She isn¡¯t coming back. Is she?¡± Dante had the chance to lie. He had the opportunity to guarantee that the Frigo would come with him. However, he had promised to be a better man, not to leave anyone behind or ruin their trust. These were the few that had stood by him. So, he would do the same. He spoke honestly and without a trace of deceit, ¡°No. No, she isn¡¯t. Thanaris and her Sanguine Dream will fall on this planet. For you, she will die.¡± A strangled cry emerged from Astraeus as he gazed across the clashing Nectos, ¡°Why?¡± Dante¡¯s hand patted the Anathema¡¯s dark shoulder as he had some guesses within his mind. Thanaris seemed to be one of the few Dirge who resisted the ¡®call¡¯ of the Lightsea. But she wasn¡¯t perfect. Hints and signs had bled through. She was like Geist, struggling to maintain herself. Astraeus revealed a sanguine stone in his palm, shaped and translucent like an amber. It emanated the same aura as Thanaris, that cold, dark moon of blood. His grip tightened upon the amber as it slipped a cool sensation through his mind. The crimson purified his thoughts and seemed to protect him. Dante pulled his friend a little more, not forcing him but egging him on. They could not stay here. Between Ego, Joseph, Friday, and all the other forces that would arrive once news spread, they had to run. Praetor Sun might have been the sole Praetor here, but that didn¡¯t mean she was the only one coming. Thankfully, Astraeus obliged, and the two ran toward the dangling rope. Both climbed up in mere moments with the remnants of their exhausted Tides. Then, they stood within the Skull of the ship. This was Dante¡¯s first time here, and his hardened gaze softened upon seeing Archimedes at the controls. Before the captain could say a word, Isaac was already stuttering out words, ¡°The ship... it¡¯s resisting the Domain Collapse with Euclid¡¯s help, but it won¡¯t last forever. Two are against Euclid, and he¡¯s losing.¡± Eyebrows raised at the new name, but no one questioned the genius for the moment. Everyone seated themselves with straps, except for Dante, who stood over Archimedes. The human still bled, reopening Joan¡¯s rushed work. His vision wobbled with motes of darkness as he watched the ship flying toward space. Diving into the Lightsea with a starship was unsafe while still affected by a planet¡¯s gravity. A near-guaranteed death. So, against the blood loss, Dante remained awake as they left orbit and entered space. Falling asleep here was out of the cards. He thanked Pythagoras as the boy set in coordinates to dive into for an escape, but the lights and alarms of the starship brought the Skull to a reddened tint. Those behind the two rose to help, but Dante stopped them with a raised hand. There was nothing they could do. Outside the Heron¡¯s Wing, there was a fleet of starships. One from each Empire. Rome, Glaniece, and Ostacean were all here, with ships flying their colors. They neared the Heron¡¯s Wing as Archimedes prepped for a dive. It took the starship a while to enter the Lightsea under such strain as the Domains from below stretched to orbit. Weapons emerged from the side of their ship to threaten the Empires, but Dante once more waved them away. He picked up the communicator dangling from above the center controls. With a click, he spoke into it, ¡°This is the Heron¡¯s Wing. Why is Glaniece and Ostacean here?¡± A crackling voice answered Dante a moment later, ¡°This is Praetor Oswen. Praetor Aurora stands beside me. Where is Claudius Vermillion? He should be the commander of this ship.¡± Eyes turned toward their captain as Dante¡¯s mind spun with painful alacrity. The loss of blood ate away at his neural plasticity, making each thought more and more difficult. Nevertheless, he stood tall, even doubled over with one hand on the console while Archimedes typed away, and the ship roared to life. ¡°He is onboard. I am a recruited merc¡¯ from Gladius. The battle for the Inferose left him gravely wounded. He cannot talk right now,¡± Dante lied through his gritted teeth, just trying to buy a few minutes. However, those on the other end of his line were not stupid. While they did not see through his lie, they suspected foul play. Praetor Oswen clicked through the communicator again, ¡°Is that so? Then why is the Heron¡¯s Wing preparing for a dive? And why have Sunwin¡¯s vitals crashed? Aurora. Collapse their ship¡¯s functions. Somehow, it¡¯s still live with two Domains below.¡± Dante¡¯s lies bought only another half-minute. He turned behind him. Astraeus heard the order through the mic and stood. With heavy breathing, the Anathema countered the incoming Domain Collapse with his own. ¡°Domain Collapse: Flames Of Perdition.¡° ¡°Domain Collapse: Inverted Palace.¡± A wave of gaseous heat enveloped the entire starship, pushed back only by the shimmering figure of a reversed castle. Astraeus¡¯ body shivered as he immediately fell to one knee, snowflakes bursting from his nose. Dante cursed, seeing that Astraeus wasn¡¯t enough. After all, each of them was weary to their bones. Rejo couldn¡¯t stand after two Domain Collapses within two days, Lucius, even with his Inheritance, had difficulty walking, and Sonna was utterly paralyzed from her neck down until the drugs wore off. Only Joan and Archimedes were without any grievous wounds. However, neither could stop a Domain Collapse nor the Praetors who were surely coming. That left Dante a single choice. Would he make it? There was a very easy way to buy them the time they needed to escape. He walked toward the hatch they had entered from. Rejo forced his feeble body to move as he placed his hands together, but Dante smacked him across the temple. Without any resistance, the Araki fell unconscious as his captain stopped him from attempting suicide. Joan raised her voice as Dante¡¯s hand neared the hatch, drawing Archimedes¡¯ attention to his actions, ¡°You playing the sacrifice card again? Getting a little old, isn¡¯t it? Not at all like you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve changed,¡± Dante said with a shrug. The doctor¡¯s eyes narrowed as she shook her head, ¡°No. You haven¡¯t. People don¡¯t change. Well, go on. If you wish to die, do so. You just knocked out your only way out of that trap.¡± Dante sighed, knowing that he had to do so. In another second, Rejo would have started his Domain Collapse or attempted to and likely killed himself in the process. So, the human could only click the communicator, prepared to turn himself in for just the slightest bit of time as four figures flew across space with tight suits. Two Praetors, One Archon, and One Boundless. Rome, Ostacean, and Glaniece had allied for this event. It was the same as Dante had done with Friday, Claudius, and himself. But before he could open the hatch and leap out, Archimedes finally built up the strength to speak, ¡°It¡¯s fine! Euclid and I can handle it! Just... hang on tight!¡± Dante flipped around to discover Archimedes had plugged his wrists into the ship¡¯s console. Ice and steam circled his arms in equal amounts, two Tides consoling his bleeding flesh. The young boy bore the price instead of his captain as tears welled in his eyes. ¡°I... don¡¯t want you... to leave again...¡± Isaac cried out as Astraeus¡¯ Inverted Palace shattered, broken by Praetor Aurora. Pythagoras had been alone for only a few days, yet it had reawakened his greatest fears. He didn¡¯t want any of his friends to leave him. Not Rejo. Not Joan or Sonna. And most importantly, not Lucius or Dante. They were his pillars, that of his past and his present. Dante gnashed his teeth, sprinting toward Archimedes as the frail boy¡¯s skin turned a deathly white. Yet he couldn¡¯t reach, even with his extended arm, as space itself began to twist. Archimedes had forcibly connected himself to the heart of the Heron¡¯s Wing with Euclid¡¯s help. With this link, he directly forced the starship to pierce the glacial fields of the Domains. Lights twisted and contorted as Dante hung in the air, reaching for the young genius¡¯ falling tear. Then, there was only fiery smoke where the ship had once been. Four figures floated within the rampant Thermo, eyeing for any hint of where they had jumped. Oswen, with his drawn greatsword, sheathed the weapon before shooting back toward his ship with projectiles of Cryo to give him momentum. He pulled back his sleeve to communicate as Aurora, the fiery Irfret, hovered beside him. ¡°Vicar, she¡¯s gone. There''s no sign of life from Sunwin.¡± The swordsman renowned throughout the galaxy shivered as he awaited a reply. Moments passed, with the other Empires'' officials returning to their ships. Yet, Oswen and Aurora stood still in the cosmos with respect, adoration, and, most importantly, fear. Eventually, an ancient, rumbling voice returned with an answer, ¡°What a shame. I had hoped to welcome her. Hmm... Find Elize¡¯s Judge. And gather the Inheritances. We can use them to track the other opening dimensions. Nandum''s, and this is just a warning. More are to come. My friend said so long ago. I should have believed her.¡± Oswen¡¯s eyes widened at the Legate¡¯s direct admission of Praetor Sun¡¯s potential, but he didn¡¯t argue or acknowledge it. He simply heeded the order, ¡°As you say, Legate. I will personally track down the Inheritances.¡± With a hum, the communicator shut off, leaving Oswen and Aurora in the silence of the stars. They gazed at each other before Rome¡¯s Sword told the other, ¡°You go after whatever is left on the planet. I¡¯m going to chase these folks. My gut tells me they have an Inheritance.¡± A nod bounced between them before they departed, leaving the space where Dante¡¯s crew had once been empty. They had escaped. But at what cost? 77 - The Sixth If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 78 - M.I.A. A wide-open lounge sat empty, barring one lone figure, dancing his mangled fingers upon the keys of a piano. The man¡¯s eyes were closed while his scar wriggled across his nose and tapped upon his right eyelid. The melody, as tranquil as a sound could be, calmed him. It sank the burgeoning emotions and impulses to the depths of his soul. His body began to dance, a slight shift in his muscles that remained near-imperceptible. It had been months since he last played. As such, he fell into the elevating notes of the instrument, his mind forgetting all the guilt and his body losing all its pain. But just as he finished the first piece, a voice rang out from behind him, emerging from a slim figure peeking around a corner, ¡°Dante?¡± Standing from his seat, the man sighed, but the woman shook her head and apologized, ¡°No, no! Nothing is wrong. Keep playing. It sounds nice. Please.¡± Claudius kneeled before a wasteland of drowned ocean. As far as his eyes could see, there was water, the Hydro born from his Praetor¡¯s Tide. The cliff before him crumbled beneath his bloodied eyes, and all he could do was cry. There was no body to bury. No sign of the killer, either. He had already escaped. All the proof they had of Elize Sunwin was that her bio-signature showed negatives. She would be labeled MIA, and Rome would move on with one less Praetor in its Congress. One of the galaxy''s strongest had fallen like that without any hint of justice. Some would cheer. Some would grieve. Claudius wasn¡¯t sure what to do anymore. Rasa stood beside the Judge, having already told him about Joseph. Claudius¡¯ mind put two-and-two together and realized the man worked alongside Friday. Meaning they had succeeded. The Centurion opened his mouth, seeking to console the man he saw as a brother, ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault. You and your Jury got an Inheritance. You stopped the Dirge from getting any, and that weird man. We lost a Praetor, but...¡± ¡°Shut up. I know you¡¯re not thinking that. Not really. Eight? Did you eat the fruit yet?¡± Claudius interrupted Rasa and called toward his Anomaly. Behind him, Eight seethed as he stared at the fruit. With a shake of his head, he replied, ¡°Not yet. I still want to find that bastard. Do you really want me to eat it? I figured you or Rosa would take it. Not much time before it''s confiscated by the Praetors.¡± Rasa and Claudius shared a look. Eight was right. The second Aurora landed from orbit, she would pilfer the Inheritance and give them contributions in return. In that mere glance, they both agreed. ¡°Eat it. We¡¯ll just lie. Say that you ate it to survive or something. We fought too hard for that damn thing. It¡¯ll be up to you to counter Lucius if we ever see them again. Plus... illusions and teleportation? I think you could make that quite a terrifying combination, Mr. Anomaly,¡± Claudius, after all that had happened and with his MIA Praetor, broke the rules, going beyond simply bending them. Eight shrugged before devouring the Fruit O¡¯ Mirror without hesitation. Talander looked on while sharpening his swords, and Yue oiled her guns. Rosa was the only one who held any hint of jealousy or frustration. After all, she would be the sole member of the Jury to not receive a reward from this mission. Talander would train beneath Oswen¡¯s blade, Yue would receive two powerful weapons, and Claudius would get his name cleared. She just had to watch Eight munch on his prize. Her? Praetor Sun had promised to train her. Now... That was no longer possible. But she wouldn''t complain. Her fruits would bloom later. Of that, Rosa was sure. Rasa spoke up through Eight¡¯s frenzied eating with a promise and a plan, ¡°If I¡¯m not immediately sent somewhere else, I¡¯ll stay with you guys. I would recommend you take the Centurion¡¯s Exam, Claudius. You four should take the Judge¡¯s Exam. Both require recommendations by five of that rank. Pulling some strings to get you guys in won''t be difficult.¡± He paused for a second as a burning fire emerged in the sky. It was Aurora descending. Quickly, he finished his words, ¡°With Claudius as a Centurion, you guys will have a little more freedom. I might even be able to stay if we use some of Praetor Sun¡¯s remaining connections. Now. Be respectful.¡± The moment he finished talking, a flaming figure landed half a dozen feet away. It was a woman constructed entirely out of blaze. An Irfret, one of the rarest races in the galaxy, though that rarity was not due to weakness or ostracization. Irfrets were simply rare, as it took one a century to gestate. Such kept their numbers low, but their nature ensured they were powerful. Even the weakest Irfret held the qualifications of a Judge. An army of these beings would be unstoppable, but even the best estimate placed their population in the hundreds. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Praetor Aurora stared down at the Jury and the Centurion seated with them. She sighed with her conflagration lessening to a dull heat as she looked out over the sea, ¡°Such a shame. Always looked up to Elize. I would''ve come earlier if I knew she was out here for an MD. Centurion. Give me the report.¡± Rasa stood up to speak, detailing the entirety of the battle on this planet. He explained Sunwin allying with the Dirge to find Joseph, the Lightning Wraith, and Praetor Sun¡¯s eventual use of her Absolute Limit. He did not go into the minutiae of its effect and instead focused on the Inferose. He lied directly to the Praetor¡¯s face, risking his life, as he said how Eight had taken the Fruit O¡¯ Mirror within the Inferose. The Centurion paused as he finished his false words, ending with Praetor Sun¡¯s disappearance. Aurora nodded, not calling him out on anything. Then, she glanced to Judge Vermillion, ¡°I¡¯ve received intel that Oswen spotted more MDs near the Great Darkness. At least one of the same caliber as the Inferose. Would you and your team be interested? It¡¯ll be a while before an expedition is planned, but I promise it will be far more organized.¡± Claudius¡¯ eyes sank in thought, and the Praetor picked up on his emotions. She continued, ¡°Rome did value Elize. We didn¡¯t just leave her to die. Most of us thought she¡¯d be fine. After all, the only ones who could kill her could be counted on two hands, and they were accounted for. At least... that¡¯s what we thought. I am sorry, Claudius.¡± The Judge said nothing but returned a nod. With that, Aurora stepped away. ¡°Very well. Let me know if you are interested. You have the most experience with these things besides Legate Nandum,¡± her words bounced around the gathering of figures until they sparked frustration in Claudius. He had failed. And now, she thought he was the reason they had succeeded? Or that he was the most suitable to attack these things? His honor couldn¡¯t allow him to take that prize. With a cough, he raised his voice, ¡°You¡¯re wrong, Praetor. We cheated our way through, overly reliant on Anomaly 888¡¯s abilities. The only person to actually... pass the Inferose¡¯s trials was Dante Penance and his crew.¡± Aurora halted, the flames on her feet building from an expulsion of Thermo. Her eyes narrowed as she nodded, memorizing the name that she had already heard, ¡°Right. The human. Oswen is chasing down that lead. I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t use him. Too unpredictable. If he grows any stronger... We might have another Romulus on our hands.¡± Eyes widened at the mention of The Man Who Stole The World. Anomaly 654 was infamous for his skills and ability to escape from all known governments. He had even fought Legate Reichter back when he was alive and escaped scot-free. If Aurora and the other Praetors had set Dante Penance at such a risk level, then... They won¡¯t just send Oswen. He¡¯ll get back-up. Probably another Praetor or two. Maybe even the other empires will join in with Lucius¡¯ and Joan¡¯s aptitude. Damn. Dante is so fucking dead. But... Claudius¡¯ mind, even knowing the forces soon to be after the human, couldn¡¯t bring himself to consider Dante dead. Twice. Twice had the man thrived where he should have otherwise been condemned to hell. He had survived worse odds. A few Praetors? Dante was nearing the stage where he could handle their hunts. The Judge said nothing else as Aurora departed, hurtling into the sky with the flowing steam beneath her. Once she had left, Claudius turned to Rasa with a proposition, ¡°They¡¯re gonna get Designations now. Dante, Lucius, and Joan will probably get Anomaly ratings. Sonna, Rejo, and Archimedes won¡¯t. Yet. They might even look back at us. Keep Eight out of the investigations if you can. We don''t want any more eyes on us.¡± The Centurion agreed with Claudius¡¯ foresight, and they all sighed as they looked up into the sky. Their ship had been stolen. The thievery only added to their frustration and sense of loss. But none of them despaired. Rasa immediately started to make some calls, asking to be picked up from Praetor Sun¡¯s Nova. The ship had a lone remaining Centurion who hastily sent a starship to grab them all. Then, with Claudius¡¯ go-ahead, he gathered his colleagues for the recommendations. Without the knowledge of Sunwin¡¯s passing, it was easy. In just an hour, Claudius had obtained all the qualifications to take the Centurion¡¯s Exam. Now, all he had to do was return to Rome. Judges could be initiated outside the capital, but Centurions only had that privilege during significant wars and battles. So, they could only wait. And rest. Surely, they would get a new ship. After all, they had slain an Anathema. Hana, the Gunwale. Oh, and Zed. Who cared if they were actually the ones to land the killing blow? The higher-ups didn¡¯t need to know that, and the Jury was far past being honest to their bones. They had nearly died too many times and seen far too much to be so naive. ************************ A bloodied, disfigured man shambled across a desert, dragging an even more ruined body behind it with his remaining arm. All one could tell is that it was female. Crimson trailed behind them like a mark of history, of existence. Ahead of the man crawled another man. This one bore wounds far beyond what should be livable by any typical creature, with burns that covered his entire form. His own flame, his own explosion, had scorched his flesh. But this one was special. His azure blood, forged by ancient minds and primordial forces, refused to cease its boil, learning from the heat. With a grunt of pain, Joseph kneeled beside his sole subordinate. Within their ranks, secrecy was paramount. Now that his survival was revealed, he would have to change his name and his face and fade into obscurity. He extended his right arm, much of its weight removed by radiant burns or slicing sanguine floods. The fingertips landed upon the younger man, an absolute genius in his eyes. They were Nectos, unique, and forced to walk their own paths. Joseph could never truly be his mentor. Not in the way Sunwin was for her subordinates, at least. All Joseph Cross could do was guide, not teach. ¡°Water. O¡¯ Water. Beautiful, glorious water. Every day you have studied it. Just as I. It completes you. Its majesty is unfathomable, workings endless. How could anyone prevent you from its practice? To hold you from your peak?¡± Joseph spoke silently amongst the desert, holding his student with care. Then, his voice grew in power, as his memories burst with the sound of thunder just as his student¡¯s ignited with a low-lit flame, ¡°No others can appreciate its beauty. It¡¯s... so enchanting. Others call themselves masters, farers of the ¡®Sea, yet they are not nearly as gifted. Not as us. We... my boy. We are its lovers, breathing its waters from birth. Its chosen. Others speak words and are ignored, yet we...¡± Joseph¡¯s tone trailed off as the sky above vibrated with the magnitude of the Lightning Wraith. Heavens recoiled, and space surrendered beneath the man who had come so very close to death that day. And when his words returned, they held an otherworldy gleam, a power that tore open space and time. ¡°Tide Reversal: Pursuit Of Truth.¡° A small rowboat manifested in the air, shattering the sky and revealing the Lightsea¡¯s internals. Joseph¡¯s short, infatuated laugh entered the sky as he pulled up his student and strode toward the rift. He had done the impossible. He had reached the next step by risking his life for the Inferose. It was not the final. Still, he felt his feet fall inches from the Shattered Peak. ¡°She completes us, and we complete her. Trust in the water. Believe in the waves. Begin your own ascent, Ouran. We have succeeded today. We shall continue to do so. But here, we must depart. I will work my way back through Rome to reach the peak. Nandum¡¯s Nightsphere will become mine,¡± he paused, bringing his gaze to watch the innards of the mint-green sea. ¡°Only with it... can I bring us to the next era. He has misused it. Wasted it. But I won¡¯t. I will venture into the Great Darkness and unlock the mysteries of the fall. The empires have held back our galaxy¡¯s development without concern for how the others¡¯ have grown. How the dimensions are rising, how the war for the central position is upon us.¡± With each word, Joseph¡¯s emphatic voice transcended his own body further and further. The rift between dimensions expanded to fit an entire starship beneath his might. No longer could he be restrained. No longer would the Lightning Wraith bow beneath a behemoth''s wings, for he held a spear to slay them. He stepped forward, entering the Lightsea, where his kind was not welcomed, yet he was different. It loved him, and he loved it back, filling the bottomless cavity spawned from loss. With one final glance back at his student, he said farewell. Any other mentor would be worried about their protege¡¯s life or death, but Joseph knew him better than anyone. All he needed was a fire, and he would survive anything. ¡°Our leader has want for another goal. But I know you. You are like me. We seek something far beyond. Enter Glaniece. Join their ranks. I will await our next meeting upon the final expedition into the Great Darkness. There¡­ There we shall find Truth.¡± 79 - The Decennium This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. 80 - Study There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I wonder how many times I can draw it? Three holograms appeared in a lightless room, illuminating the box, which bore no doors or exits. There, the figures nodded to one another in greeting. The man with an exoskeleton of illusory steel and hidden, beating hearts of his enemies spoke first, addressing the woman across from him. ¡°How nice to see you again, Judeth. How long has it been since we three last gathered? Two hundred?¡± His target scoffed, lifting her hands with stele of bone peeking from her many fingers. Along her back, two wings of solidified marrow creaked out, like an angel¡¯s wings, while a saint''s halo hovered over her skull with a ring of bone from her scalp. Judeth, the Saint Of Pupils and the elder of the current two Endless of Ostacean, cursed her counterpart, ¡°You calling me old, Yiestran? I know you aren¡¯t, or I¡¯ll tear your new tech right off. Us being in a hologram won¡¯t stop me.¡± Another voice emerged, that of an obscured woman; even within the hologram, space itself seemed shattered around her form. All that could be discerned was the raised finger pointed toward Judeth, ¡°Easy. There''s no point in acting like you two are enemies. We already know it¡¯s a farce.¡± Both heads immediately turned to the shimmering woman with scowls. Judeth spoke next, her hologram stepping closer to the figure. Then, she tilted her head with sarcasm and stretched across her timeless face, ¡°Hmm... Okay then, Yarnen. You caught us. Ooh... Ahh... Will Vicar be coming for this meeting? Haven¡¯t seen the bastard since I was young.¡± Yarnen, Anomaly 0, and second oldest Legate laughed with a dry tone. The vague sign of a flipping tail shone inside her crippled light. God¡¯s Abomination had no time for jokes. She was her friend¡¯s guard, keeper, and caretaker. ¡°You should be glad. The last time Vicar asked for help, a tenth of the galaxy died. We all pray every day that his presence holds the Great Darkness at bay. Now, what did you call me here for?¡± The ancient woman had little patience, almost directly demanding an answer, even from such influential figures. Judeth sighed while Yiestran spoke up, his exoskeleton crackling overtop his figure, ¡°We wanted to divvy up the MDs. And¡ª¡± ¡°Denied. Vicar has¡ª¡± ¡°Do you not think for yourself? Is Vicar the only Legate who makes decisions?¡± Yarnen¡¯s hologram hummed with dissatisfaction after being interrupted by Judeth from her intrusion of Yiestran¡¯s proposition. A moment passed in tense silence as the technology shuddered beneath a behemoth presence. However, Anomaly 0 soon opened her mouth again, ¡°Legate Vicar and I are of one mind. If we were not, we would have killed each other in a power struggle over the past millennium, just as your forefathers had. Our unity has brought Rome to tower over your meager empires. Watch your words. You each may be my match, but we have six Legates. You have three Gravitors and two Endless. In an all-out war, there should be no confusion into who would prevail with Vicar free to roam your Sectors.¡± Yarnen¡¯s words brought both Yiestran and Judeth to total stillness. Neither said a word. They merely glanced at the other with indignation. Vicar''s reason for pushing Ganun to a painful death or a grand height made sense. It was all for leverage. While the two simmered, the Legate continued, her hologram collapsing into tiny specks of fractured space, ¡°There will be no deals. The strongest shall claim the Inheritances. Do remember, they would do little for us. Leave them for the young who may grow alongside them. Contact me only if you find one of those hiding.¡± With her parting words, Yiestran and Judeth were left alone in the holographic reality. They shared a look before both giving each other a wry smile. ¡°I guess we should work together.¡± ¡°Seems so.¡± ************************ Dante¡¯s hand halted atop the piano¡¯s keys while his eyes fell upon Sonna. The Weren had recovered enough to walk with a cane after a night¡¯s rest. She stood there, around the edge of the corner, watching him. He returned her gaze, annoyed by the intrusion. However, Dante didn¡¯t let it bother him for long. He resumed the notes a second later, right where he left off as he kept perfect time in his head. Sonna grinned at the music, bobbing her head slightly with the rhythm. As he played, the woman shambled across the hotel, heading toward the exit. She enjoyed Dante¡¯s playing but knew he desired solitude after all that had happened. Furthermore... every time she closed her eyes, she saw her own corpse. It gnawed on her. At this hour, she just wanted to see something peaceful to ease her mind, like the sunrise. The moment Sonna reached the door to the outside, however, the music stopped with a question, ¡°Have you ever been to Glaniece?¡± She twisted around to find Dante sitting with a raised knee on the seat. Bandages covered almost every inch of his body. He had forgone Joan¡¯s specialized treatment to give her time to work on everyone else. The captain would be healed. Eventually, but for now, he bore the pain in place of his crew. He did so without complaint or acknowledgment, but Sonna noticed nonetheless. For the first time, Sonna realized she wasn¡¯t unlucky to find this man, to be caught by him. It was her most improbable fortune to have met the human amongst the endless sea of stars. ¡°No. I haven¡¯t. Why?¡± she asked as she fixed her posture on her cane. Dante stood and stepped away from the piano. His mind had calmed. He would return to the melodies shortly, but not yet. He soon limped to the bar, pouring himself a drink. However, he did not bring it to his lips. The amber fluid met only his eyes as he spoke, ¡°Thank you. I never got to say it. For stealing my Nullify,¡± with the last word, Sonna¡¯s heart sank. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Dante wasn¡¯t done. ¡°You¡¯re the first crewmate I¡¯ve had who... when they make their own decisions, doesn¡¯t fuck everything over.¡± Unable to respond, Sonna shook in her place like a trembling sprout. The human laughed, spotting it in the corner of his eye as he turned and spun the liquid in his shotglass. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Rejo is... Rejo. Love the guy, but he can¡¯t think for himself, let alone others. Joan and Lucius could be capable, but between her past and his demons, I don¡¯t trust them to think ahead. Astraeus... with Thanaris¡¯ death, I don¡¯t want to put any more weight on him,¡± Dante¡¯s words ramped up as his eyes trailed the artwork on the hotel¡¯s wall with the rising sun¡¯s illumination. ¡°Plus, I can tell he would hate giving orders. He¡¯s told me he loathed every second of calling Dirge forth on Crislend. Like he was enslaving countless. He only did it because she asked him to.¡± His gaze shifted to Sonna with a raised eyebrow, ¡°But you? A diamond in the least likely of places. Someone who will oppose my ideas out of conflicting views, not spite,¡± Dante tossed his glass back onto the counter as he stood to face Sonna. ¡°We can let Rejo have the title in name, but would you like to be my Second? I need someone to steer the ship while I¡¯m gone, and you¡¯ve done a great job so far.¡± The woman stammered, struggling to find her words. Unlike before, though, she managed to respond under such pressure without too much time, ¡°I... Yeah. I¡¯d like that.¡± ¡°Good. See? You¡¯re growing. Faster than anyone I¡¯ve ever met. No one ever gave you a chance before. Trust me. I know what its like. To be glossed over. Ignored. It was... hell,¡± Dante sighed as he turned back toward the piano. "I¡¯m going to have Astraeus give lessons to us all on the Lightsea, Tides, and everything else we¡¯d need to know now that we all have some kind of power. We¡¯re starting at noon. Will you join us?" Silence was his answer. He glanced back to find Sonna nod with determination before she shuffled outward to see the sunrise. The human shook his head with a sarcastic laugh as he sat back down in his seat. The mere movement sent trailing pangs of agony up his spine and into his brain. A seethe emanated from his lips as he whispered to himself, ¡°Fuck...¡± But he didn¡¯t let the pain stop him. He brought his hands to the keys and closed his eyes. Dante let the music take him into tranquility. He flew along the slow, steady beats as he relaxed. After months of being wound up, his body and mind found peace. Cravings and thoughts attempted to disturb his playing, yet he fought them off. And before he knew it, a hand fell onto his shoulder. Dante peered up to discover a crying face returning his gaze. Astraeus had come to get him. Noon had arrived. ************************ Shortly thereafter, Dante strode into the room they had paid for Astraeus. Dirge don¡¯t sleep, typically, so he spent his time moving the furniture for all to have room to sit. There, beside the sideways bed and couch, lay a patient¡¯s bed that had been wheeled in. The young boy wrapped in the covers slept with closed eyes, his chest rising and falling with a gradual tune. Joan stood beside Archimedes, checking his vitals. She noticed the last member¡¯s entrance and explained herself, ¡°He¡¯s awake. Working on the kinks in his nerves. Locked-in Syndrome. Haven¡¯t cured this one before, but should be able to. He¡¯ll hear everything Ast says.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good. Hope you feel alright in there, Arch. And... Ast?¡± Dante poked as he nodded to API¡¯s condition. The Dirge, several feet away, merely shrugged. He didn¡¯t seem to care about Joan¡¯s grating personality. Instead, he waved for Dante to sit before placing his hand against the wall. There, snowflakes spread out, creating a hexagon with words spreading out along them. Each corner of the hexagon held a name and a short description. Thermo - Gaseous steam, known for its swiftness, heat, and maneuverability. Miro - Humidified veins, infamous for recovery, resilience, and physical ability. Hydro - Liquid water, the most common Tide, and the most adaptable. Frigo - Packed snow, hailed for its defensive capabilities and long-term battles for its efficiency. Arido - Devouring mist, feared for its life-siphoning and broad effects. Cryo - Freezing ice, renowned for its pure-combat utility between its offensive sharpness and sudden durability. Then, outside the hexagon stood another sentence, alone but far more striking than the others. Necto - Unnatural talent, revered for its unpredictable natures. All can shift between two main states: liquid and gas, gas and solid, or liquid and solid. Once he finished writing the words with his Frigo, Astraeus faced the others. Then, while Sonna and Joan took notes and the others listened intently, the Dirge began, ¡°You all know the base types of Tides. Nectos are a little more confusing, but that doesn¡¯t matter. They are called Unnaturals for a reason. As long as you can quickly identify who you¡¯re fighting, then you¡¯re at an advantage, especially if you can hide yours. That''s part of why knowing multiple is so critical for growth.¡± Nods followed his advice, so he continued, ¡°Onto more complicated things, we have...¡± Astraeus built three distinct sections away from the Tides, labeled ¡®Lightless Pacts, Domain Collapses, and Tide Reversals.¡¯ ¡°These are all highly advanced applications of the Lightsea, with Reversals held only by Caesars and some of the Seacursed¡¯s absolute strongest. They are methods to escape into the Lightsea itself for escape, instant travel, or specialized effects. One can also forgo the use of it to instead transform it into another Domain Collapse.¡± A hand raised into the air from the side of the room, originating from Sonna. The Weren asked with confusion laced across her face, ¡°Why would someone have to do that?¡± Astraeus squinted his eternal, crying gaze momentarily before addressing her question. He pointed to Rejo as a subject, ¡°People can only use a Domain Collapse once daily. In reality, it takes over a week for someone¡¯s brain and soul to recover from the strain. Multiple uses over a short time can fry someone from the inside out. Rejo, here, damn near killed himself on the Heron¡¯s Wing during our escape,¡± the Dirge explained while Sonna scribbled away. ¡°Tide Reversals are even worse, but they consume a different... energy? Resource? Anyway, I¡¯m not sure. So, you can, if you are truly willing... to die for...¡± The ¡®teacher¡¯ choked up, recalling his own mentor. Seeing this, Dante jumped in to take the attention away from him, ¡°It¡¯s a gamble. If you think you can take out your enemy with another Domain Collapse, you go for it instead of merely escaping. Caesars and the like will have one of each, so we must be prepared for two DCs from the same person.¡± After wiping the snowflakes from his eyes, Astraeus gave Dante a look of thanks. Then, with his self recovered, he moved onto that very topic, ¡°Yes. And you can have more than one Domain Collapse. Types, I mean. Most people focus on one Tide until they reach that boundary because if I were to master Cryo or Hydro, it would allow me access to another Domain Collapse. It would be a different type and have wildly contrasting effects, so it¡¯s not a jump in strength but instead a jump in breadth, allowing you to handle more... unexpected events.¡± With Astraeus¡¯ momentary pause to finish his thought, Joan spoke up, not bothering to lift a hand like the respectful Sonna, ¡°So, why didn¡¯t Thanaris use a different Domain Collapse? Surely, she would have been able to. Are you practicing for another right now? And how is Rejo able to collapse one without ever using Cryo?¡± ¡°I... I¡ªI don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think Nectos can master the other Tides. Not sure, though. As for me... yeah. I¡¯m working towards Hydro, but with each step away from your inborn, it becomes twice as difficult. Twice the cost for half the result, kind of thing...¡± Astraeus trailed off while his eyes fell on the red-skinned Araki, gleaming excitedly at his mentioning. ¡°No idea about him. Natural talent? Maybe if you¡¯re too simple, you skip the steps?¡± A laugh croaked from Dante as the man shook his head. The rest of the crew joined in. Astraeus didn¡¯t mean to be funny or crack a joke, but his deadpan voice and Rejo¡¯s sudden frown left even Lucius with a smile. The moment passed before Sonna¡¯s head turned to look at the silent, motionless figure on the bed. The others caught her gaze and fell quiet, too. Dante sighed as he redirected his focus toward the last marker. ¡°Lightless Pacts. What are they, really? That¡¯s what hurt Ego, right? Breaking it? And how did Claudius stop him from making another one?¡± his lungs burst into several questions all at once. Again, Astraeus didn¡¯t possess a definite answer. He brought a hand to the amber wrapped around his neck by a steel wire he had twisted to fit himself. With it in his hand, he spoke, ¡°Lightless Pacts are even rarer than Domain Collapses, but they aren¡¯t necessarily more powerful. They are a way to... convene with the Lightsea and bend the rules per se. Going against one... is either impossible or ends with death.¡± Dante¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, and then they came together in thought. He didn¡¯t believe Ego would die from such a thing. Astraeus thought the same and said, ¡°Yeah. I doubt he¡¯s dead. That thing... doesn¡¯t follow rules. You aren¡¯t even supposed to be able to make more than one. At all. Ever. There are some exceptions... but Oswort is the most famous. He has a personality disorder, which is why people think he could make multiple.¡± Nods flew around the room before Astraeus followed up on their favorite Judge, ¡°Claudius, though. He¡¯s... special. The Lightsea has chosen him for some reason. His growth is incredible. Even more impressive than you guys. The higher you go, the more complex it is to take another step. I wager it¡¯s something to do with him being a Seer.¡± Rejo finally moved the tentacles in front of his mouth as an idea came to his mind. It was bizarre, out of the realm of understanding, and yet, it made sense, ¡°What if... he can just do that? Like... he¡¯s such good friends with it that he can tell it to ignore people?¡± Eyes turned to the Araki, filled with consternation, yet none disagreed. Instead, as Astraeus resumed his lesson, going more in-depth with each Tide and the varieties of Domain Collapses, Dante¡¯s mind latched onto a single phrase. Good friends. Claudius is good friends with the Lightsea. It makes sense. Everyone else we¡¯ve seen powerful is old. People near his age... are weak. Yue, Talander, even Rosa. But that Judge... he¡¯s something else. Dante¡¯s gaze steadied on his strongest crewmate, flowing the images of his blizzard and Inverted Palace into his mind. Then, he compared him to the Claudius Vermillion he saw when they fought against Ego. He¡¯d lose. It¡¯d be close, but the Judge versus the Anathema switched victors from Crislend. Claudius grew more than the rest of us in that place. Was that his Praetor¡¯s purpose? Not to give him an Inheritance, but to... give him resolve? To shatter him and build him anew? His fingers tapped his chin, lost in thought as another idea came to mind. He heard Astraeus mention that only the most talented, deserving, and outstanding pupils could make contracts with the Lightsea. For the vast majority of Seafarers, whether blessed or cursed, it would remain silent. Dante reached for it, attempting a bargain to see its response. With eyes closed, he sank deep, a rock entering an endless, fathomless sea. Pressure built in his mind, yet there was no hint of response. Not a ripple. With a puff of air from his mouth, he coughed before wiping away at his lips. Then, he stared at a sentence on the board. Lightless Pacts. Bend the rules on Tides, Stigmata, and even Domain Collapses. Always has a cost. It ate into his mind. Dante knew something was hidden, some piece he could take advantage of. He might be limited to one pact, but if he could use it to alter his Matchlock, he would take another step forward. But how could he? It wouldn¡¯t respond! But it listens to Claudius. Maybe... No. He wouldn¡¯t do that. We¡¯re enemies. There must be someone else out there who can do the same thing. I just have to find them. 81 - A Dialed Tone "It takes a person of incredible fortune, talent, and power to become a Centurion. It all comes together to prove their aptitude and ability. They have to have the skills, the experience, and the luck to enter the exams and exit them. What about a Praetor, then? How many stories lay in the memories of one of those fabled few? And the Legates? Are they not civilizations of their own, witnessing the rise and fall of empires? I wonder. I wonder just how much they know." A gray-skinned man with crimson, flowing hair sat on a lounging chair, lying out with a coin in his hands. In front of him, a scarred soldier with medallions over his chest read from a paper with profound respect, ¡°For your exam, I¡¯ve gotten all the approvals. The thing is... It won¡¯t be easy, even for you. Out of a few hundred thousand Judges... nearly a tenth of that apply per year. But...¡± ¡°Only a hundred pass per year on average. Right?¡± Claudius Vermillion, the newly appointed Head of the Noble House, spoke with surety to his elder brother-like figure. Rasa nodded. He then flipped the paper to show the Judge the results of his investigations from pulling countless strings from his and Elize Sunwin¡¯s connections. Claudius squinted, his eyes still blurry from overuse, and read the words aloud, ¡°Three total sections. First is the academic and deduction portion. Fucking breeze. Second is leadership via commanding one¡¯s Jury in a fight against another¡¯s. Third is a four-way fight between Judges. The ones who remain after are chosen to be Centurions. Doesn¡¯t seem too difficult.¡± A cough emerged from Rasa¡¯s chest as he shook his head. Fury and resentment hid along his face as he delivered the news from the capital, ¡°Word has spread of Praetor Sun¡¯s passing. Legate Ganun vouched for you for some reason, but some snakes will still cross through. I doubt you¡¯ll have an issue with the first section. It¡¯s the others I worry about. Praetor Sun¡¯s enemies will come after you. Discreetly, but they will.¡± ¡°Hmm...¡± Claudius rubbed his chin carefully. His thoughts peered not into the future of his eyes but that of his mind. ¡°I won¡¯t just have to fight other Judges, then is what you¡¯re saying?¡± ¡°Yes, Claudius. I bet there will be some hidden figures. Retired Centurions and the like,¡± the elder Tianshe said with pure transparency. Silence hung between the two for several minutes as they remained without another word. Claudius¡¯ eyes moved from Rasa toward the distant stars out the window of his new starship. He had commandeered it from one of the fallen Centurions on Gladius. The poor man had no heirs or family. So, it went to Claudius via Praetor Sun¡¯s will. Once more, he owed the woman his everything. Nonetheless, those distant stars held an answer. And he had yet one more question. ¡°What are the chances of a Domain Collapse?¡± Claudius¡¯ tone held no fear. It was mere preparedness. ¡°Ninety.¡± The response came swiftly and without hesitation. With that, the Judge stared at the coin in his hand. With a flicker of his right eye, he saw the result of the flip. Heads. Reusing his Stigmata a moment later after shifting his fingers, he received another answer. Tails. Fate is always shifting and changing. All it takes is for the right man to be in the right place. I sacrificed my Domain Collapse. Eventually... I might be able to surpass such a thing, but that¡¯s not any time soon. Again, his fingertips shifted until he received a surprising answer. Caught by Eight. He looked to his right just in time to find the young man appearing from the ether, dusting off his clothes. With a squint, he saw a fragile wobble of reality around the Anomaly. Already practicing. What happened to him in there before we met up? He won¡¯t tell me. Ever since then... he¡¯s been more... motivated. Finally, Claudius flipped the coin, no longer searching through reality for the answer. However, he nabbed it out of the air before Eight could surprise him. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± he asked, rolling the metal into his pocket. The Anomaly twisted his lip into a half-smile. Then, he conjured a blade of ice while cutting into an apple with a grin, ¡°Are you not going to train? Rasa can man the ship.¡± Claudius¡¯ suspicions flared instantly, and he considered peering into fate for the reason. However, he stopped himself. He already relied on it far too much. Instead, he stood to meet the Cryo¡¯s gaze, ¡°Why are you asking? This isn¡¯t like you, Mr. Loner.¡± With a roll of his eyes and a flick of the dagger on his wrist, Eight groaned, ¡°Fine. You caught me. Rosa begged me to ask you. They are... freaking out. I know we¡¯re heading toward Romul, but Talander and Yue can¡¯t sit still. Rosa is damn near a breakdown. They hated how weak they were. How much they relied on you.¡± Claudius nodded in understanding. He knew exactly how they felt. And yet... as he saw Eight, he noticed something hidden within the mysterious Anomaly. ¡°What about you?¡± he pressed while raising an open palm. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Eight¡¯s gaze hardened with creased brows. For a moment, Claudius thought the teen would curse him out or merely vanish. But he didn¡¯t. His gaze softened, and he turned toward the shifting stars as they flew through space between jumps. With hatred, Eight¡¯s eyes forced Rasa to step out of the room. The Centurion didn¡¯t want to get between Claudius and the Judge¡¯s strongest Juror. Only then, in total isolation, did the Anomaly bear his heart to the man he thought to be a role model, ¡°I... I am weak. Too weak. Could probably kill you, but that¡¯s not enough.¡± Claudius pursed his lips, utterly ignoring the cockiness of such a statement. With a sigh, he motioned for Eight to follow him, treading into an open hallway, ¡°How strong must you be? I¡¯d wager we could each kill the average Anathema. Is that not enough for you?¡± ¡°No.¡± In a mere instant, Eight refused to be so mediocre. The things he had seen. The memories he had lived. The time he had endured. It all forbade him from being so... ordinary. His very blood screamed to be unstoppable. And that was exactly what Claudius wanted. What he needed. ¡°I want to be... unstoppable. I don¡¯t want to have anyone tell me what to do... well, except you...¡± Eight¡¯s words contradicted Claudius¡¯ understanding. The two strode through the starship, longing to have Heron¡¯s Wing again. Nonetheless, they soon stood in a wide-training room, meant for Seafarers to fight against one another. Claudius turned to face his second and questioned, ¡°What about me? Why am I different? I have someone who wants to be a complete rebel.¡± Claudius had to be careful with his teammates, especially Eight. The boy may have been his greatest hope for someone with a Domain Collapse, but he couldn¡¯t have a backstabber. A laugh emerged from the Anomaly as his fists clenched in front of his body. He stared at the creases with a growing enthusiasm, ¡°You¡¯re different. You¡¯re a good man. Never met one of those before. Not really. Most are only out for themselves, and even if you make it seem like that sometimes, I know you¡¯re not. Honestly... it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯ve survived this long with such a heart of gold...¡± Eight¡¯s voice trailed off for a moment before returning. ¡°And only a complete rebel? I see you¡¯ve changed.¡± Claudius shook his head and stepped into the arena. Hydro flowed across his body as he tapped the communicator in his hands. A message went out to the other three in his Jury. Then, he struck. Eight evaporated from the air while throwing knives into the air, so Claudius twisted around in defense. But the boy had been ceaselessly practicing since he ate that fruit. Instead of a sneak attack from behind, one of the weapons warbled before an invisible dagger slid against the Judge¡¯s throat as the Anomaly whispered, ¡°See? I wasn¡¯t boasting.¡± In the next moment, he reappeared beside Claudius where the shimmering blade was, flipping his dagger of ice over his hand. With shock, the red-haired Tianshe brought a hand to his neck as his eye began to run red. They both stared at the other once more. ¡°Learned that from Rejo?¡± Claudius asked with a laugh. ¡°Yeah. Dumbass has some damn good moves. Doesn¡¯t hurt to use them,¡± Eight added. With such a notion, Claudius nodded and pursed his lips. Makes sense. The Araki was truly unusual. Maybe... Just maybe. ***************************** Six hours later, Claudius sat at a dinner table across from his ¡®elder brother¡¯ and stared aimlessly at his food. His long red hair dangled just above the meal, taunting his thoughts. The gash angled across his brow, and the black eye on his right side had no impact on his mood. In fact, those were the things that egged him onward and forward. He needed to become stronger. So much stronger. The Judge¡¯s hands tightened on his utensils, bending them slightly as Rasa sighed. The older man set down his knife and paused his own meal. Then he said, ¡°Your training went well. I saw improvement from your whole Jury in just a few hours. Keep it up.¡± Claudius nodded without truly listening. He busied himself with ways to grasp greater power. But he just couldn¡¯t. He was doing all he could. Strength takes years to build. Most Centurions held the Lightsea for two or three decades in action before their promotion. I¡¯m not even at a fraction of that. So little time... Again, his head shook as he grew defeated, wishing he knew a way forward. His eyes could see much, not now as they were blurred from practice, but he could peer into reality while healthy. Such only emboldened his frustrations. Despite the magnitude of his talent and his impartments... He was still losing to the human. ¡°Claudius!¡± Rasa¡¯s stern voice pulled the Judge¡¯s hand from his steak that had slipped into it. The Centurion glared at Claudius as his voice dropped to a commanding tone. ¡°What has changed? Are you unimpressed with your progress? Is it not enough to grow every day?¡± Claudius opened his mouth to speak but couldn¡¯t find the words at first. Only after biting his lip and cleaning his hand with a towel did he manage to answer, ¡°No, I¡¯m not, not after seeing Dante. From a Tideless bastard to keeping up with me against such a monstrosity... All in just a few months.¡± At the grievances shared, Rasa¡¯s eyes glowed with understanding. He knew what Claudius felt. What he had misunderstood. ¡°Let me ask you something. Is there anything special about this human¡¯s abilities? His Tide? His Stigmata? His body?¡± Rasa asked with interest, feigning eating a bite of meat. Claudius shook his head with a moment of hesitance, ¡°Not really. His Tide is the same as mine. Weaker, even. Not enhanced by chanting either. His Stigmata... It¡¯s weird but not anomalous, like the Eight''s or mine. As for his physique... He¡¯s durable, but with my training and Sea Arts, I¡¯d say we¡¯re close to equal.¡± A long, slow nod originated from Rasa¡¯s seat. The Centurion wiped his mouth and stood, scratching his chair against the metallic floor. Then, he strode around the table and brought his dishes to the sink. His partner waited in anxious annoyance as Rasa took nearly a full minute to reply, only doing so once he had his back against the counter of their kitchen, ¡°Claudius...¡± The name trailed while Rasa found what he wanted to emphasize, ¡°You have the talent. All of you do. I¡¯ve never seen two groups of such... incredible figures. You, Rosa, and Eight are amazing. Talander and Yue have potential, too. Dante¡¯s crew is similar, with its standouts, namely Rejo, Joan, and Lucius, in my eyes. But what about the man himself? Nothing special? What does that mean?¡± Claudius moved to speak, to answer, but Rasa continued before he could, ¡°Obsession. Drive. Will. Those will beat talent. Vicar does not stand upon the Shattered Peak because he was... talented. Or chosen. Or some other bullshit reason someone puts in their head,¡± the Tianshe walked forward, extending his forearm toward his ¡®student¡¯ that he now had to take care of. The Judge¡¯s head shifted to dodge, but Rasa¡¯s hand was too quick as it pressed against his forehead with one firm finger. ¡°The talented die when they realize they didn¡¯t take enough gambles. The obsessed die when they meet an obsessed talent. Just training won¡¯t be enough. If you wanted to merely be a Praetor, perhaps you could get away with that in a few years. Decade, at most,¡± Rasa furrowed his brows as he spoke, letting out a grieving sigh. ¡°But I know you. You will not settle for anything.¡± Again, Claudius attempted to defend himself, but the Centurion refused, ¡°I will not always be here for you. Praetor Sun is gone. If you truly, truly are the man I know you to be, you need to step up. That human. How often do you think he puts his life on the line? Dances that tightrope of destruction? Not just of himself but his crew. His reputation? His everything?¡± ¡°I fought through the Inferose! What else could that be but¡ª¡± Claudius couldn¡¯t hold it in any longer and shouted in his defense, but Rasa clamped a hand around his shoulder. The man¡¯s hydraulic muscles from his Stigmata shut the Judge up in a moment. ¡°You went in prepared. Ready. With droves of backup and manpower, a plan, and a rough understanding of an MD. A damn Praetor and squad of top-notch Centurions. Dante?¡± Rasa laughed, recalling the report on the human. ¡°He came in surrounded by enemies, assured he would be alone when shit hit the fan. All on his fucking own. That is what makes you strong. Fast and dirty. Always has been the case.¡± The unsaid passed between them as the two shared a meaningful look. Claudius knew why others wouldn¡¯t take such a path. It was risky. Most died merely on the first step, let alone how far someone like Dante had scrambled. The blood on his fingernails alone could dye an estate. Nevertheless, Claudius saw one thing within Rasa¡¯s gaze. ¡°You would survive.¡± He didn¡¯t say it. He couldn¡¯t. The Centurion couldn¡¯t push the young man he saw as a brother into the waiting maw of darkness. Pain twisted in his heart even now, with the sheer hint of it. But Claudius understood. Praetor Sun was gone. One day, so would Rasa fade. That was how the galaxy was. People came and went. Only the Monstrous Legate and the Pointed Legate remained fixed through the centuries. Nevertheless, Claudius didn¡¯t want to lose anyone else. He hadn¡¯t even got to say goodbye. A fire sparked in his heart, burning like a glorious inferno. It devoured the darkness of the man¡¯s chest. With each passing second, it grew and grew. Rasa¡¯s frown shifted into a soft, sad smile as he saw the change. ¡°What do I have to do, then? How do I keep up? How do I... surpass them all?¡± Claudius¡¯ voice trembled as he begged his elder. He wanted this. No, he needed this to happen. He absolutely had to find the path forward. Without looking at him, Rasa released his grip and turned to face Claudius¡¯ communicator that had been left on the countertop. ¡°You train until you can no longer stand. You fight until you can no longer move. You bleed until you are out of blood. When a challenge arrives, you stand to meet it with all of your strength, no matter how absurd or risky. There will be no more half-measures. No more maybes. Only sureties. It¡¯s you against you out there.¡± Silence hung in the air for over a minute as Claudius digested Rasa¡¯s words. He mulled over each piece before his mind flickered over the coming exam he would be taking. With the enemies that would come after him for revenge, he needed to be stronger than the others who would pass. He needed to have an advantage that no one could ever predict. The Judge had an idea of what, too. Without a moment of hesitation, he swiped the communicator from the counter and strode toward Eight¡¯s room. There were plans to be made. Rasa watched as Claudius left the room, dialing Dante through their shared communicator. The Judge called for Rejo, wanting to use the Araki¡¯s Domain Collapse to brute-force any obstacles in the exam. Such a move risked getting Claudius kicked out or killed for using a fugitive. However, he had taken the Centurion¡¯s advice to heart. Rasa could hear the hellfire in his voice from here. The young man had changed. He had grown. He had... You were right, mother. Your wings had sheltered him far too much. But I never thought you¡¯d go this far... I... I will watch him for you. No matter how his shadow grows to encompass me, I will protect him. If it were any other person... I would fear the monster we have created. Gaius¡¯ grandson, though? It is only a matter of time before we welcome a Legate into our little family. 82 - The Way Forward If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. 83 - Paths To Perdition "Three men stood apart in an unadorned room. Bloodied teeth grinned from each as they stared, daring the other to make the first move. The smallest did, as his courage stood impossible with his flaying mouth-tendrils. With one move, however, the largest laid him flat. Then moments later, as abyssal fists met unnatural strength, an Araki''s fingers twitched upon the cold floor. He felt the pain of his captain and stood once more." While his crew fell into action, Dante sat silently in his room. Soon, he planned to join Sonna in her training, but for the moment, he looked to his scarred, gnarled hands. An old memory of his father flashed through his mind, the bastard¡¯s rough voice cursing even his own blood, ¡°You wanted a friend? Are you an idiot? We can¡¯t have friends. Keep studying. Maybe I¡¯ll let you out in a few weeks.¡± The slamming of a forgotten door shook Dante¡¯s wrists, leaving his fingertips trembling. He hated his father. To his core and back. But that didn¡¯t remove the memories. No matter how Dante wished to tear him limb from limb, no such thing could abolish the scars on his flesh or mind. Those weathered fists tightened. He thought back to those he had lost. The friends. The lovers. The family. Perhaps his father was right. People like them couldn¡¯t have such connections. The many worlds in the endless seas would simply tear them apart. Dante shook his head. He wouldn¡¯t allow himself to dwell upon such things. Time would take what it wished. The man had more important things to do. His mind often turned to what he had left behind when there was no danger. The Penances were the kind of people to always be in the past, even when their eyes gazed forward. So, he stood and walked out of his room. Without detour, he went straight to Sonna¡¯s door, knocking on it. At the same time, he heard Lucius, Rejo, and Astraeus scuffle inside another room. The slightest tug of his lips arrived as the door swung open. Sonna stared up at Dante with a smile, her excitement for training barely exceeding her own woes. The sheer fact Dante had come to her to help provide the confidence she needed added to her own burgeoning self-faith. It had been damaged by the copy of Dante, Ego, but she could still slip out a bit of joy in the moment. She waved him in, and Dante followed to find two chairs sitting opposite each other in the middle of her quarters. Each had large rooms, paid for with their dwindling funds. Dante set his sights on soon taking a bounty on the planet nearby, but for now, he wanted to train as much as he could. The two quickly took their seats, and Sonna¡¯s eyes fell to the ground. Dante saw this and gave a short scoff, ¡°Scared of me? Come on. You really need to get over your insecurity. Anxiety. Whatever it is that¡¯s holding you back.¡± Sonna shook at his words, her lithe body shuddering from just the tone of his voice, let alone the meaning. She brought her pupils up, bit by bit, until they met the azure orbs of the Penance. ¡°No. I...¡± she said, stuttering and unable to continue. As before, this brought a shake of Dante¡¯s head. He had seen this woman fight with the best of them. Her only shortcoming was herself. She wouldn¡¯t let herself bloom. ¡°What? What are you so afraid of? Was seeing your head decapitated jarring? Praetor Sun¡¯s death? Or is it something else? Come on. We have time. Tell me,¡± Dante offered his ear. He was genuine, seeking to pull her from such trenches and help his new vice excel. He believed in her. The man just wanted her to see it, too. A moment passed as Sonna stared directly at Dante. No longer did she move her eyes away. An emotion built behind her pupils, some momentum gathering like a storm. Finally, she spoke, but not without a painful exhale, ¡°I¡¯m not scared of you. Not anymore. I¡¯m scared that I can¡¯t live up to your expectations. That... you¡¯d leave me when I can¡¯t keep up. Everyone else has their niche, right? But not me. I¡¯m just...¡± ¡°Sonna!¡± Dante grabbed her wrist, his palm leaving behind a mark as he ripped her back to reality. ¡°You are worrying about nothing. Originally, I had wanted a perfect crew. Y¡¯know? People with peerless talents who could do anything and everything. Those people don¡¯t exist. And if they do... they¡¯d never follow me.¡± The Weren¡¯s eyes widened as Dante opened up to her, not stopping there, ¡°I was naive. Still am. You guys... hah... I lucked out. Really. I won¡¯t leave you behind. Why would you possibly think that? I didn¡¯t do it before. Now, after you guys came running after me, I don¡¯t think I ever will.¡± Sonna¡¯s grin broadened until it spanned from ear to ear. Quietly, just above a whisper, she asked, ¡°Really? I won¡¯t be alone anymore?¡± Dante replied by shifting his hand from her wrist to her shoulder and nodded. Then, he pulled back and opened both palms, saying, ¡°Of course not. We¡¯re all here in case you need us. Well, maybe not Joan, but I give you permission to fake any order from me to get her ass moving. Now, come on. Let¡¯s get started. I¡¯ve been wanting to see your Arido in action for quite some time. I order you to not be afraid.¡± The woman bowed her head an inch before whipping it back up. It was an eternal battle in her mind to find herself as good enough. She feared being deserted, left alone, or returned to the darkness she often resided in. It was not uncommon for Sonna to remain inside an unlit apartment or cabin for days at a time. All to throw off the enemies of Irys. However, as she peered into Dante¡¯s eyes, she saw his conviction. It held the same as when he stayed behind on Crislend. He hadn¡¯t changed at all. Not one bit. Yet, to her, it seemed everyone else had. Archimedes was more independent, Lucius seemed less hateful after expunging his rage, Rejo acted less stupid and more serious, and even Joan felt softer to talk to. Her words weren¡¯t as harsh. The most significant shift was in Astraeus, though. From a mass murderer to a lecturer? He seemed... almost kind to Sonna, yet possessed a hidden sadness, like a young man who had just lost his parents. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The mist emerged from her hands with the emotions dwelling within her core, the loneliness, pity, and hurt. Her Tide fed off the negativity, growing more voluminous as she felt the seeping cold. That was until a hand entered her mist. Instantly, the devouring haze siphoned life away, doing so expeditiously. Dante¡¯s hand grew numb in seconds, but he didn¡¯t remove it. He merely spoke to the young woman with overwhelming confidence, ¡°You got this. Just focus. I know you hate isolation, but that¡¯s because it¡¯s been forced upon you. This time, for me, choose it. Block out the stray thoughts and wandering pasts. Ignore the possible futures. Listen to not my voice. Hear only the meaning.¡± Sonna closed her eyes as he talked, entering the darkness as her captain asked her to. She shivered, hating the immediate sensation, but he didn¡¯t stop. ¡°I''ve been thinking about my father lately. And those that I wish were still with me. Not that there were many..." Dante paused as he heaved a sigh and gazed into the mist. "I learned many things from my father. Most things only a criminal would use. But one... one applies to us all. You see, the most remarkable transformations happen in solitude. When the noise fades, and the world turns its back, you hear your true self. That¡¯s when you decide whether you¡¯ll break or rise..." Dante''s thoughts fell to the copy of him within the Inferose. It was alone. Utterly alone and forced to fight a superior version of himself. Nevertheless... He nearly won. Only with his back against the wall and a blade to his throat did he truly become Dante Penance. The human shook his head, refocusing his thoughts. "Perhaps... that¡¯s why I grew addicted to Nullify. Even now, I crave it. But this isn¡¯t about me. Listen not to the noise of the outside but to the inside. You do not need me to guide you in the workings of a Tide. You need only someone to be there when you are alone.¡± Sonna listened to the words in her head, deciphering the essence without becoming distracted. More haze billowed from her unclenched fists as her heart slowed. However, this mist was less painful to Dante. His grimace, which emerged after Sonna closed her eyes, loosened. The man then shut his own and felt the ice within his veins. Once more, he treaded upon Surewinter. The chill of Arido would be his anvil. Both sank into their respective affinities of the Lightsea, one blessed for her talent and the other who earned an impartment. The latter struggled to keep up with the former despite such a fact. He knew he would be left behind. Nevertheless, he wasn¡¯t jealous or frustrated. Dante only focused more as he felt his hands enter the eternal cold. His Surewinter was different. Broken. The veins and crystals of winter were not how they once were. He hadn¡¯t properly used the Sea Art since the battle against Geist. Minor usages here and there, but he realized what was wrong at that moment. Dante had damaged the pathways for the Sea Art. Permanently. The reckless use of the crystals of ice within without access to the Lightsea had broken what was once a growing system. With a sigh, the human seethed as the cold burrowed into his flesh. If it was broken, then he would fix it. The places where the crystals were once built now remained as painful lumps, bursting against the muscles, nerves, and nearby viscera. Before, he hadn¡¯t felt the pain because of the cold. Now, he only felt such pain. Nevertheless, he bore the callous chill, reinitiating himself to the technique more emphatically than the first time. Meanwhile, Sonna enjoyed the sensation of life flowing through her. Humans were resilient. They weren¡¯t the strongest, most adaptable, or the smartest. But the ability to simply survive is what led them to the top. They could take just about any wound at any place and grin with bloody teeth. Momentarily? Sure. But the grin was enough for most foes. That endurance energized her body and mind. Still, she had to focus. Killing her captain was not an option. She had to control the Arido. Minutes passed as she felt Dante¡¯s life withering. Somehow, he resisted her Tide, but it simply wasn¡¯t enough under such an isolated focus. He was her target and her target alone. Arido excelled in just long, drawn-out contests. More so than even Frigo¡¯s inexpensiveness. Sonna knew this could not continue. She had tried to change the flow countless times, but nothing seemed to work. All she had managed to do was lessen the damage by widening the effect. More time flowed, causing her to open her eyes in worry. There, she saw Dante¡¯s sunken eyes as pale blue blots formed across his skin. Blood trailed down his flesh from where the dots had burst it open with its sharp, icy crystals. Sonna gasped aloud, but even her noise didn¡¯t budge Dante¡¯s focus. Surewinter. The Arido knew it very well, a Sea Art fatal for all but the Seablessed. Astraeus was a practitioner of it, and so was Dante, though she thought he had been forced to abandon it. Seeing her captain in such a state brought her brows together. He was using his own body as a stepping stone. She could do the same. With his idea in mind, Sonna reached forward. One hand fell upon her own flesh while the other hovered inches over Dante¡¯s forehead. The man flinched ever so slightly before mist flowed between Sonna¡¯s hands and her own flesh. She groaned in pain as she felt the nature of her own Tide for the very first time. Then, her captain¡¯s face began to regain its color while she lost hers. His wounds slowed their bleeding while even his eyes opened, regaining the light they had prior. A low smile was exchanged in the gap between them. Dante gazed at her Tide as Sonna¡¯s face grew pale, and she signaled her to stop. ¡°Good. You impress me more every single time I see it. That¡¯s supposed to take people years to master. Let¡¯s see...¡± Dante flicked open his pocket watch and laughed. ¡°Eight hours. Now, it¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s a start. If you can take from others and gift to us... Surewinter might be something we all can learn.¡± Sonna¡¯s heart pounded as Dante stood, hugging the short, tired woman as he promised, ¡°See? There¡¯s your niche. How could we ever lose you? Get some rest. I want to see the side effects of Arido on both of us. Then, we¡¯ll help out Arch.¡± The Weren nodded as she stumbled, falling toward the ground. Dante caught her by the scuff of her shirt. Her weight was hardly an issue, even for his drained strength. Without a word, he let her lean on him until he delivered her to the bed. Then, the man left without looking back. Once outside the room, with the door closed to his back, Dante coughed once. A second cough came a moment later. Then, a third. Glancing down, he saw flakes of blood and ice on his palm. Despite the clear cause for concern, he merely shook his head. The captain had work to do. ¡°I¡¯ve rested enough. Time to get some money for Joan¡¯s experiments and our fuel. The question is... where?¡± Dante stumbled through the hallway, meandering until he reached the first floor. After several more minutes, he found himself outside, staring at the starless sky. The light pollution in a city like this was too foul to see anything other than incoming starships. With his eyes in the clouds, Dante debated stealing the credits he needed. But he shook his head. That¡¯ll piss Lucius off. Sonna, too. Assassination contract? It should be easy. But that¡¯ll piss them off, too. Arch, as well. So what then? Easy money isn¡¯t... easy to come by legally. Dante¡¯s legs carried him through the streets of the city. His eyes caught the many hidden, underground signs of criminal organizations. He notched them off one by one until he spotted the signature of the Syndicate. The Hellbound Syndicate, to be precise. They were one of the few organizations he never worked with. Too powerful. Too risky. But they had hands in countless operations. While Dante was currently injured, he was confident he could kill a dozen of his past selves. Such strength steadied his gait as he walked toward the upside-down balance written in eerie crimson. He had just thought of the perfect job. *********************** The muscled form of Ganun Dvril stood before a multi-reinforced door. He leaned forward, placing his palm against the steel composite as a voice pierced through the metal and spoke to him by shivering the stale air. As always, his being shuddered while listening to the grave voice transmitted through an absolute mastery of the Lightsea, ¡°Are you aware of what you have done, Ganun? This is a volatile period. Sticking your neck out for some Judge... I do not like it.¡± Even Ganun¡¯s unrivaled mass bowed to the voice. His eyes lowered as his body began to shrink, but he caught himself. He was no longer the young boy he once was. While he may not be equal to the Pointed Legate himself, the Beast Legate had his own pride. Millions lay dead at his feet, phantasmal splatters of water hover behind him like an image, with piling snow and a humid fog growing to cover the corpses. It would never be enough to stand against the figure on the other side with his body alone, no matter how mighty of a Cultivator he may have been. The three Tides he had mastered rallied to his call, bolstering him as his head rose, meeting the cold walls with an unrelenting flame within his eyes. Ganun Dvril had chosen a path, adhering to his code. No matter the turbulence, he would handle it. That was his way. Without a hint of regret, he said, ¡°You need not approve of our every action, Vicar. I do this not out of pity. Praetor Sun taught me much. Yet she always praised someone more than I.¡± A hum of surprise emerged from beyond the metal. Some things were hidden even from the strongest man. After all, he was only one. His ears had a limit for what they could hear. ¡°Is that so? She praised this Judge more than you? How? He must have been but a child when you were her apprentice,¡± Vicar said with his rumbling whisper. Ganun nodded while his thoughts drifted back to the years he spent with Elize. She beat him constantly, teaching him perseverance and how his talents were never enough. That only hard work could match the monsters in the galaxy. And the universe beyond. There was one such monster alongside him all along. ¡°Elize said that... there are many geniuses in the universe. But there are only two types. Those who rise above their peers, sailing into the stars and beyond. And then there is Claudius Vermillion. Blessed with his grandfather¡¯s love for the ¡®Sea and gifted with the sight of Seers,¡± Ganun¡¯s eyes shifted as he paused for a moment, recalling his mentor¡¯s end. ¡°She pulled countless strings to keep him from being locked up in some ivory tower. That¡¯s probably why she¡¯s dead today. I won¡¯t let him just... die.¡± The Pointed Legate regaled a short laugh, echoing through the hundreds of feet of steel. Then, he posed a simple question, ¡°So what will you do? Pamper him? Coddle him? We have had many peerless men and women. But few ever reach our heights.¡± Ganun shook his head. He turned around and waved to the sole figure standing above him in power. The rumors were wrong. It was not Oswort who he had brought to a draw. It was Yarnen. The man who now stood just steps from the very pinnacle of the Shattered Peak said while departing, ¡°I will do the opposite. If my life of endless warfare brought me here... With my meager talents compared to him... How far do you think he would fly if I orchestrated the same? This exam of his will be the first stone. Mark my words, Vicar. He will win the Contest. And there will be no debate.¡± A rumbling, eerie laughter rang out inside the steel chamber moments after Ganun left. There was only the Pointed Monarch, chained and isolated to his home. But he did not feel anger or hate. The ancient man grinned through the restraints, preparations, and kill sequences. Knee-length hair hung over his middle-aged face while he now stood awake. Then, he whispered to himself such that no one, not even his own ears, could hear. The words held no meaning, but they brought a lone tear to his ear through his grin. 84 -A Disciple A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. 85 - Awakened Mind A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. 86 - Frozen Worlds She injects herself with grief. Each dose sharpens her focus. Each dose erases her reflection. One of these doses will eventually stop the heart. But we cannot stop. If we do¡­ If I do... The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. 87 - Ink Dries Red Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. 88 - One Life If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.