《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 narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. 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. 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?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°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. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. 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 duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report 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? This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. 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.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. 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¡­This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. 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. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°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 story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. 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.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 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. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original 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.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances 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.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. 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.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. 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. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. 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.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. 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.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. 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 tale has been unlawfully lifted 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.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. 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 tale 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.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. 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.¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. 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.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. 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. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°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.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. 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.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 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.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. 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.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. 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.¡° This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. 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.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. 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 author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. 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?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. 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. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. 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.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°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 spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ************************ 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.