

ANGELOS ODYSSEY

VOLUME TWO

BY

J. B. M. PATRICK

SHINGEN BLUE PUBLISHING

INDIANA
Copyright © 2019 by Joshua Brian McCabe Patrick

Cover Art © 2019 by Shingen Blue Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Published in the United States of America

First Edition

Shingen Blue Publishing

Indiana

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-578-50672-2

For Mitchell Raley,

Who served honorably.
"...man's place in the universe is somewhere between the beasts and the angels, but, because of the divine image planted in him, there are no limits to what man can accomplish..."

-Giovanni Pico della Mirandola
CONTENTS

-

PART ONE: A New Melody

-

1 – The Resurrection

2 – A Symphony

\--

PART TWO: Uesugi

\--

1 – A New Life

2 – Mendo

3 – Zola Bali

4 – The Democratic Council

5 – Of What's To Come

6 – The Hive

7 – Eternal Dusk

8 – Regret

9 – Abul

10 – Memories Of The Nagao

11 – Mendo's Shadow

12 – The Root

13 – Kokora

14 – Speed And Foresight

15 – Dawn

\---

PART THREE: The Hero Zunaga

\---

1 – Amaresula

\----

PART FOUR: Raiko

\----

1 – The Third Level – I

2 – The Third Level – II

3 – The Birdcage

4 – The Trial

5 – Avodeus

6 – The Trial – II

7 – The Apprentice

8 – Premonition

\-----

PART FIVE: Amour

\-----

1 – [Voided]

\------

PART SIX: Brock

\------

1 – Kalina

2 – Suffering

3 – Torn

\-------

PART SEVEN: Aaliyah

\-------

1 – Harmony

2 – Descent

3 – Maxwell

4 – Red Panda

5 – Second Descent

6 – Black Hole

7 – The Spirit Lyceum

8 – Respect

9 – Gluttony

10 – Fatima The Sage

11 – The Art Of Zol – Zen State

12 – The Art Of Zol – Imago

13 – The Art Of Zol – Shinte

14 – The Third Day

15 – Farewell

16 – Entropy

17 – Madness

18 – Confrontation

19 – Disgust

\--------

PART EIGHT: Naomasa

\--------
1 – The Prince

\---------

PART NINE: The Grandmaster

\---------

1 – Last Words

2 – Shotobai

3 – Ayer Kei

Afterword
PART ONE

A New Melody

-

My name is Janelle, and there's someone else who knows me as you do.

1

The Resurrection

-

Tallah

-

MY SISTER DOESN'T KNOW THAT I DIED. There's no way to tell Aaliyah without her believing I'm insane, although I know I'm not. I've seen Her; I've seen Death for myself.

A man once kidnapped me, made me perform certain actions against my will. He used me up, threatened my life while I was his, and then left me in a dumpster. I remember him weeping as he walked away, but the damage was already done.

Soon, we would both succumb to a disease he'd spread to me. I didn't cry; instead, I waited there for a time. I waited for my life to fade, but I was discovered the next morning. I was driven to a local hospital by those who found me and sealed my fate with what they believed was mercy.

I don't remember how they looked. I never was very good at remembering faces, and I've always been too shy to stare at anyone directly. Still, I was forced to stare as dozens of strange faces peered down at me in concern as I laid in a hospital bed.

Nurses said I'd caught "the Drem," an infectious disease that would guarantee the shutdown of my immune system. I don't know what happened to the kidnapper who'd given it to me, but I assume he didn't survive for very much longer.

The next morning, I saw Aaliyah's face. She was crying, looking down on me like everyone else, and I hated it. I hated that I'd assigned her this role yet again, as she'd always been the one to anchor our family. Aaliyah never expressed weakness. She was much stronger. In a way, I despised myself for not having that type of strength. I wanted to be bold and to stand tall above all others; I thought I deserved just as much respect.

Aaliyah wouldn't leave my side. Though she was to take the Bureau Exams and needed to study, Aaliyah stayed.

She repeated: "It's going to be okay, Tallah." and, "You look so beautiful. I can't believe how amazing you are."

He'd taken my legs. From below both knees, nothing remained except listless stumps. I could only partially see out of one eye, as the kidnapper had thought it comical to hear my screams while he drenched sections of me in acid.

That night, I fell into a coma.

Then... I passed on.

No one could understand, but I'd lost to the disease. I died there on that hospital bed. Hospital personnel surrounded the me before I rose above myself; I was formless now, I was grateful.

To lead such a confined existence when I'd been mocked for so long would be unbearable, and my spirit needed so much more. I watched nurses frantically try to revive me, but my body refused to respond. It was a peaceful end to my torment.

I heard music.

Sounds congregated to produce a quiet rhythm that issued out from the caverns of my soul. I didn't possess the hands to do so, but I reached toward my center. It was warm. It gave off subtle, comforting vibrations that worked into tremors which flowed along the ground. They were loud in their own way, but I didn't mind.

Death was standing there. An image never to be described, never to be seen, really, but Death was before me.

"Hello, Tallah," she said.

I didn't know how to respond. I hung my head, feeling very sad on the inside. Because of my weakness, I was leaving my sister behind when she needed me more than ever. Would Saint Avva forgive me?

"It's okay." Death spoke, and her voice was beautiful:

Her vocal texture sounded like sweet notes hanging in the air, ringing eternally with unsaid promises.

"You don't have to cry anymore," she said. "My name is Janelle."

"I..." I started to speak; my voice paled in comparison to hers. "I don't want to go."

Janelle seemed shocked, but her features—terrifying as they were—softened.

"Not all deserve to leave so early, but the End does not discriminate. Everyone is chosen, and everyone departs."

"But I'm not ready to sleep just yet."

"Oh?"

I fortified my resolve—if this was my last chance to be strong, I would stand against Death itself.

"Don't take me from Aaliyah. I have to be around for her!"

Janelle was quiet. When she spoke, it was as a mother to one of her own:

"Dear child," she said, "what's been done to you is unforgivable. Were I to weep, I would weep all my days in memory of was stolen and what you will never get back. My child, why would you choose to exist anew in such a state? Go with me and pass from this life; those here are of no concern to you."

"I refuse."

Janelle said nothing, so I spoke louder: "NO. I can't let go of everything we've built after... after how much my sister suffered."

She was silent.

I could feel new music growing from within as I raised my voice, "My family is worth living for—just a little while longer! Please, allow me to remain until she's ready to let go, Janelle. Please."

"Oh, my child..." Death drew closer, and I staggered away from her.

"Do not be afraid. Tell me: what would you do if you could live from without? Live in nowhere and yet... everywhere at once?"

Death touched me.

-

Janelle

-

I am Death, and I have betrayed my purpose. Against my better wisdom, I've broken something sacred in order to preserve a life well beyond its expiration.

I touched Tallah, and I made her in the image of the Solace, in the image of Death.

Music produces energy. Music begets life; therefore, I restored in this child a new type of song written for a dying Earth. She is no longer human and not quite a messenger of Death, either. No. Instead, Tallah has become a divine servant. She is the composer of something new.

Tallah resurrected on that hospital bed, to everyone's surprise. Tallah's sister had been contacted, but she was already awake, and Tallah gazed at the personnel around her, eyes alight with radiance. Although she would require more time to fully recover, Tallah had become a Child of the Solace, reaching past the normal potential of an Awakened human.

-

Years later, I appeared unto her again.

The disease was at last departing from her new body. However, renowned medical professionals, as well as the administrative team in the hospital, had adamantly insisted that she stay far longer than she'd ever needed to. On the day that I came to see my child, Tallah had little time left before she would be discharged and sent back into the real world to be rehabilitated, with the help of her sister.

Her room was quiet. I observed her sleeping, entombed in sheets which were a soft shade of sapphire. Tallah rested near a wooden drawer, beside a white curtain that obscured anyone from seeing her from behind an open door, and across from a holographic television that was powered by a remote having been set next to an empty food tray.

Aaliyah had braided her hair into short, brown twists, and they overlaid neatly-trimmed eyebrows made tiny by her hazel eyes.

I peered out the window to her left to notice a busy subsection of the city containing a sprawling marketplace within Zone A. In the distance, I spotted the tower of the Angelos Association climbing toward the heavens and in the likeness of a slender, stark white pillar.

"Tallah," I spoke.

Her eyes opened.

We looked at each other for a long moment, as no one else could see me. I'd been alone as one of the Solace for centuries, but Tallah's presence provided a slight comfort. I viewed her as my own daughter. She wasn't afraid of me.

"Hello, Janelle."

She smiled. A molar on the right side of her front row of teeth was still cracked from abuse. Nearly all scarred tissue had been reinvigorated with a special serum prepared for victims of acid attacks in the Citadel.

"Do you think you're ready?" I asked her.

Tallah breathed in and out: "Ready for what?"

"To see what it's like in the world now that you've been absent for so long. My child, did you miss it?"

Tallah sighed. "I'm sure it's the same as it ever was, you know? As long as people don't change, society's always showing the same face to you. Aaliyah's a real detective now..." she said, "And here I am, Tallah, just a vegetable."

"My Messenger."

"Whatever that means."

"What if I showed you, dear?"

Her expression revealed both disappointment and curiosity; she still didn't understand what it all meant. "Showed me what?"

Poor dear. I stepped closer and placed my reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Can't you hear it? There's a symphony being played in the city. It's a horrible symphony, one conducted by a madman who's been consumed by hatred—listen closely, my child."

She struggled to comprehend what had just been said. I could sense her frustration, but I didn't prod her to focus any harder.

I knew it would come.

"I think..." Tallah started.

"Yes?"

Tallah's face changed. Her features darkened. "I think I can hear it."

"And what does it sound like, dear? What can you hear?"

She shook as tears rolled from her eyes. Tallah looked to me.

"It's awful," she said, "it's... not stopping. Growing closer."

"Would you like to see what's about to happen in this city?"

"No—" she exclaimed at first and then stared at the ground in fear.

I knew she was stronger, however. Tallah met my eyes again after regaining her composure. "Okay."

"Steel yourself, my child, for we shall gaze into the depths of madness..."

2

A Symphony

-

Janelle

-

FREDERICK NUVOGORAD, AN ENREC INTELLIGENCE OFFICER, shopped with his family at a marketplace forty hyper rails below the hospital. I'd given Tallah Sight, Sight that only I was meant to possess, and temporarily allowed her to watch the events soon to take place.

-

As Frederick hefted a grocery bag full of what he'd arbitrarily grabbed on his regular path through the district, his son tugged on his sleeve, exclaiming, "Dad! Dad! Can we get a mititrone?"

A mititrone was a miniature android with a limited ability to communicate with its owner and was a popular children's toy in the Citadel.

Frederick exhaled, "No. Not this time, so—"

"C'mon! Why can't I get a mititrone? I can use it in my virtual classes! It h-helps with learning!"

The father said nothing, ignoring him as he steered them toward automated vendors selling produce. His son, on the contrary, refused to be ignored. He pulled on his sleeve again—

"Please, dad! Everyone else has one, and Juni's been making fun of me!"

"Then tell him to stop," Frederick responded flatly.

"Honey!" his wife couldn't resist chiming in, "I know you can afford it! What, with those very nice government check—"

"We're on a budget."

"You're on a budget." Mrs. Nuvogorad stopped to look at him sternly.

"Fine." Frederick felt bitter; he handed her both grocery bags—"Make sure you pick up some Eko milk then."

Mrs. Nuvogorad stomped off in a huff, and Frederick allowed his shoulders to slump before he rested his hand on the back of his son's neck.

"Right, then. Let's go get a mititrone."

Both father and son turned on the next corner and exposed themselves to grand neon signs, each of which advertised a different consumer product and hung aloft over stocky automatons.

On his left, Frederick passed a fiberglass display showcasing a female android. Her synthetic skin had been enhanced to add a realistic quality to her overall appearance; moreover, someone heavily powdered her face to complement dark lipstick and silvered eyes which gawked at particular customers in a seductive manner.

She enclosed her metallic digits over the gold watch around Frederick's wrist, then she lightly pulled him close.

He jerked himself loose but was awestruck upon viewing a series of diamonds and onyx gemstones. Frederick looked up at the automaton, who peered from behind her cage with a pitiable expression.

"C'mon, dad!"

His son urged him toward a bright green and horizontal sign suspended above two shelves taller than himself. These shelves were lit up as well and stretched far into a divided corridor built to house hundreds upon hundreds of various toys as well as juvenile gadgets.

Frederick admired the jewelry once more and momentarily thought of his wife.

He sneered at the clerk, then he followed his son's lead down the left side; Frederick was then surrounded by amenities he'd never had the chance to own as a child:

To his right, he noticed board games known for projecting map overlays coupled with holographic pieces. Frederick recognized role-playing titles that some of his colleagues enjoyed, but he shrugged off such thoughts while proceeding to inspect action figures made in the likenesses of Citadel celebrities.

A small, robotic President Derek began pacing back and forth on the edge of the metallic middle row and sported a plated suit of armor which shined with an aquatic tint. Its armor clanked; the toy intonated: "For our future, we march. Ever forward, ever graceful."

"Dad—look—it's so cool!"

His son held up the stoic figurine of Ishida. Ishida's manufacturers had accurately designed the robe overlaying his Armor of a Thousand Faces.

The bloodlust present within the tiny warlord's eyes bothered Frederick.

"Put that down." Frederick gently guided his son's arm away. "Show me to the mititrones." He smiled. "Remember, this is a tool for your education, all right?"

"Ugh." His son sighed. "All right, dad. I think it's farther this way..."

Ample lighting turned sparser as they progressed toward the back of the aisle. Frederick passed another father-and-son pair, who acknowledged the two of them and nodded in recognition. Frederick was an important figure to the Dawn Federation. He'd remained deployed for most of his tenure as an officer serving in the vassal country of Gaspul, and thus he was met with respect wherever he traveled in the upper districts of the Citadel.

The next two overhead bars of fluorescent light flickered then weakened. Presently, Frederick was squinting and searching with increased effort. Electronic dance music faded behind them, and Frederick felt a cold chill abruptly pierce the air.

He took off his coat before wrapping it around his son's shoulders, who responded by shrugging it off initially.

"I'm fine, dad." he said.

"It's not optional. You'll wear it." Frederick easily stared his son down before the two of them continued.

"It should be just around the corner!" the child's voice echoed.

"Why is there... fog? Fog in this part of the city?"

Frederick halted to briefly check his surroundings once more.

We should be close to the Upper-City, so why isn't atmosphere control working here?

He shook his head and thought, in disgust, Lazy technicians aren't maintaining it in this trash heap. Figures.

"PLEASE ALLOW ME TO HELP YOU," an automated voice rang out from the end of the corridor.

The son gasped, "It's a mititrone, dad, they're down here!"

"Wait—" Frederick reached out to grab him, but his son escaped, sprinting off toward a fully-stocked shelf marking the termination of an aisle parallel to their own.

That kid...

Frederick exhaled wearily; his footsteps were heavier as he tromped forward.

Robot butlers. What a stupid idea for a kid's toy. He should be learning how to take care of himself, but the Federation insists on coddling our children for us.

His son picked up a small, humanoid figurine encased in flexible steel. Its azure eyes gazed at him as he moved closer, and Frederick scowled.

He doesn't need a mititrone. He needs discipline, more than anything else.

On his left, he realized that a section of the brick wall gave way to reveal a narrow corridor which lacked illumination.

Incredible. They've—

"Dad!"

"Wait, son."

"But dad!"

Frederick's eyes widened when he discovered rows of old, familiar comic books having been, to his thinking, poorly crammed into a spot hidden from the rest of society. He grabbed a copy of Ayer Kei, an entry in a series which began when he was but a child himself and that he'd believed long forgotten.

Ayer Kei was a hero, but he'd also been accused of practicing sorcery to meet his needs. Profound stories inspired Kei's comic book run, stories about a real man who'd gone insane long before he was able to enjoy his status as a hero. The real Kei was said to have participated in a murdering spree before either disappearing or otherwise having been privately executed by the Dawn Knights.

I wonder how much this is worth...

One vision flashed through his mind:

A face.

A horrible, putrid visage.

Frederick fell to one knee, grimacing in pain as what felt like a powerful headache assaulted him.

It-it's like a flame. Shit!

He blinked hard and gritted his teeth. His forehead beaded with sweat.

Frederick heard a voice accompanying his thoughts, chanting that resounded endlessly:

Izunao Mi'fu.

Uzelikitze ghuj-oean.

"STOP!" Frederick screamed. "STOP—STOP!"

Frederick clawed at the sides of his head.

"Dad?"

His son glanced over but couldn't see what was happening; he was far more too preoccupied with his selected mititrone.

Frederick inspected his hands in bewilderment and saw that they'd been stained red, that he'd been ferociously burrowing through his scalp.

What the...?

"Frederick."

Frederick looked back, toward his son. "Michael?"

"Did you hear it?"

He froze. He knew someone else was speaking to him, but Frederick didn't want to turn his head in the direction of that dark hole for fear that, this time, it might devour him. He wanted to pretend it didn't exist, as that voice was shrill in tone and shook with the intonations of someone who trembled ferociously.

"D-did you hear it, too, Frederick? I know you must have! Look at me!"

I'm a soldier, Frederick thought, I can't back down from this.

He gazed into the darkness to see only a wide grin.

Teeth glinted back at Frederick, teeth marred with splotches of red as blood oozed from the onlooker's mouth. The stranger drooled while his eyelids opened completely in utter fascination.

"W-who the hell are you?"

Frederick moved to grip the butt of his sidearm but hesitated, wondering if the hovering face merely belonged to a vagabond.

His terrible grin parted when he cackled, his laughter growing to fill the world and just penetrating Frederick's sanity.

Ugh. I can hear him inside my head!

Frederick drew his weapon, shaking as he lost full control of his nerves.

"Don't you FUCKING move, creep! I'll end you right here—right on the fucking pavement, you hear!"—he glanced back and gasped...

"Micha—what..."

His son no longer moved. Rather, he appeared trapped in time, along with Frederick. All available light steadily vanished from the vicinity.

All light except for a blood-drunk smile.

Frederick witnessed tears rolling down the other man's face, but he began laughing.

"STOP!" Frederick ensured his grip was firm and tried to tighten his index finger on the trigger.

The stranger stopped again and looked to Frederick curiously.

"What, Officer? What, indeed... why should I 'stop' when we're friends? We've known each other for so... so very long."

His pupils dilated into black spheres; their outlines broke and formed abyssal splatters which flowed forth as dark tears.

"Y-you don't remember me." He coughed and then sighed in dismay. "Well then..."

Zun an'ugola'anao.

Frederick dropped his gun.

"Oh..." The stranger shuddered with dreadful sorrow. "Perhaps you'll remember its dead, loving voice. Oh, dear Frederick, how we have fallen together."

Frederick crouched in order to pick up his firearm but found himself looking up once again.

He did know him after all.

"Petrus?"

Frederick stood at the ready and with his gun in hand. "What is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning! THE MEANING?"

Joel Petrus' face shifted into a solemn expression.

He glared at Frederick, then he said, "Look up."

Tznlulh.

—The growl echoed from far above the two of them. Something resembling a thick cloud came into view overhead and shadowed everything below it.

"Look up, Frederick."

He looked up.

The colossal body of a dreadful creature steadily sailed through the atmosphere while taking up the full breadth of the sky itself.

Fredrick screamed.

It was the face of something far greater than him. An entity with features vast and all-encompassing to complement its boundless appetite.

A Face with yellowed eyes opened above a fanged maw that threatened to devour the Earth. Frederick couldn't tear his eyes away from It. The sight of such a thing drew his attention so fully that he remained rigid in place, with an unbreakable gaze.

Frederick's vision sunk into the depths of his subconscious; he was compelled to watch his family burn alive on a plain consisting of that same Face. He watched them scream while tied to stakes above great eyes observing his own movements and actions. They traced Frederick as he rushed to save them—

"Don't stop looking, Frederick! Don't stop! Oh, it won't be long now!"

"Petrus!" Frederick cried and sprinted toward a dark figure standing before him and laughing wildly.

"PETRUS!"

He clutched at frail shoulders, spinning him around to see:

The bloodied pulp of what was once a face. Mere veined flesh stared back at him, and an opening grew within the mass. Blood streamed from one orifice as it spoke, "DON'T STOP LOOKING."

"Augh!" Frederick shoved the creature.

He rushed toward the outside ring of fire to save his family—but they'd already begun to change.

He could but observe in terror as two horns creeped from small depressions in their skulls and expanded upward to dwarf their twitching bodies. Each face became charred beyond recognition; pairs of scarlet eyes darted to meet Frederick's and render judgment.

"DON'T STOP LOOKING," they said in unison.

Kzntl. Etun.

Executive Joel Petrus charged forward, brandishing a long knife, and slashed the exposed throat of Frederick Nuvogorad.

He never ceased looking, even in death.

\--

PART TWO

Uesugi

\--

1

A New Life

\--

Janelle

\--

"WHAT WAS MENDO LIKE?"

Tavon smiled. "Tch. Not the easiest guy to please. Driven kind of mad by his own actions... but..."

"But?"

"Why do you care, kid?"

"Because I know it bothers you."

Tavon crossed his arms and scowled. "After I turned eighteen, my world kept changing. Some things are too disturbing to talk about."

"You're a killer."

"So are you."

"Which is why you should tell me." He stared defiantly into Tavon's eyes. "I wanna know who I'm ridin' with."

Tavon chuckled.

"Hmph. Okay, kid, but don't say I didn't warn you. If you start having nightmares," he said, "I'll send you back."

2

Mendo

\--

Tavon

\--

MENDO PILOTED A CRUISER WITH JUST ME AND ABUL AS PASSENGERS. I'd stuck by the demon's side, as he had mine, following the aftermath of the Nagao Clan's fall.

I was seated behind the two of them when Mendo looked over to Abul and said, "You've been doing quite well, Ab."—his eyes flickered back to me—"Much better than the useless one who hasn't Awakened in the back. Are you sure you saw him battle an army?"

Mendo took his eyes off the road completely to study me. "Because he hasn't done anything impressive lately."

"It's because I don't need use swords, like you." I tried to make a comeback.

"Mendo! The road!"

Mendo grunted before slowly turning back around and throwing his hands up, "What, exactly, do they expect me to do with someone who can't shoot, swing a sword, or use his own powers?

"What manner of joke is this—and to assign such a person to me!"

Abul snickered, "He's more than he looks. I, for one, thought the same thing."

"Oh? Then what makes Tavon so special that he'd be assigned to a patrol? Shouldn't he be with the regular footsoldiers?"

"Mendo," Abul sounded as if he were scolding him, "everyone Awakens in their own time. You know these things can't be rushed."

"My ass." Mendo exhaled.

"What, do you wish for him to become like you then?"

He didn't reply.

Our cruiser veered off a hyper rail running through the northeastern section of the Fourth Quadrant. According to the vessel's navigation system, we'd traveled exactly a hundred miles from the Meiziki Estates, my new home.

Lower-ranking Meiziki members were ordered to begin sweeping through the entirety of the Quadrant in one last show of force. My new masters wanted to vanquish any remaining opposition before looking toward other Quadrants for further conquests.

Our path took us through a poorly-lit street, which stretched onward past tall landmarks built to resemble smaller versions of skyscrapers that could be described as hundreds of ivory pikes. Each building had these windows that were all aglow with an electrically-powered light. Instead of streetlights, the path was made clear by virtue of the sheer number of private dens we glided by. The road below had been formed out of plain, shining steel. It stood in stark contrast to dirtied, metallic sidewalks beginning and ending as we came nearer to a group of bare alleys big enough to accommodate more than one cruiser.

Minutes passed, and our course opened on the left to steel plains populated with several finished and unfinished Quonset huts. On the outsides of those that were finished, we spotted a decent number of men and women clothed either in red leather or plated armor, which stood out with its polished crimson sheen. Crowds of them suddenly appeared, bearing automatic rifles, swords of varying lengths, and iron pipes probably looted from a local sewage plant.

They all marched toward us as Mendo eased up on the acceleration and brought our vehicle cruiser to a full stop before dozens of Meiziki footsoldiers. He rolled his window away and to the left side to speak with a woman whose face was obscured by a kabuto that had been smelted and molded to resemble an eyeless leopard.

Every soldier bowed in sync.

Mendo spoke first, "Salām-Iga."

"Wa'laouzi Iga."

For a second, Mendo appeared respectful. He'd cared more for his own people than most of the guys I'd worked for in the past.

Mendo said to her, "Another shipment's coming this way, and your cell will be given rations in preparation for taking the water plant in the Northeast. Have you anything to report?"

She straightened her posture, replying firmly, "We're almost black on ammo."

"You're not serious..."

Mendo's more careless demeanor returned. "BLACK? Black on ammo—are you sure?"

"Yes, milord."

Mendo made eye contact with Abul, then he shook his head.

"Black on ammo. Black on FUCKING ammo. Why?"

"M-milord, we—"

"I'm not angry with you." Mendo cut her off. "Don't be nervous. You'll be fine as long as you're not wholly responsible, okay?"

She got more confident and nodded vigorously. "Yes, milord. The Uesugi wish to keep us rooted here; they attack with abandon and at all hours."

"What have you been doing with the bodies? Just curious, you don't really have—"

"Enforcer Samael and I set aside a hut for burning the dead. The enemy provokes us frequently but with an inferior arsenal at their disposal."

"What's the status on our people then? Do you have enough medics?"

She hung her head in embarrassment. "Milord, they've continued to specifically target all available medics. We can save the wounded, but we don't have the staff we need to stop infections from spreading throughout the camp."

"Damn." Mendo brought his fist down on the wheel. "Those bastards still won't surrender—nevermind. Good work."

"But Milord?"

"Yeah."

"What would you have us do from here?"

"Eh..." Mendo scratched the top of his head, showing some vexation.

"Okay." He collected himself and started to lecture:

"Wait, and I mean that: wait. You will wait for the next shipment of supplies, consolidate everyone who can still shoot, and YOU, Enforcer Joku, you will be in charge of leading the upcoming assault—don't let these other dickheads tell you otherwise. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, milord. But..."

"What is it?"

"Should we leave this base unattended then?"

"Absolutely."

"But—"

"Joku," Mendo spoke patiently, "the Meiziki already sent a capable contingent ahead of me. If you're just dealing with guerrilla forces, then I'd suggest leaving behind a few of your best guys with ammo you can't reasonably risk transporting.

"The water filtration plant contains the last of the Shimazu Clan; once they're eliminated, the Uesugi Clan will have no other outside resources. Joku, they're on the run now."

"Yes, milord." Joku bowed.

Mendo rolled his window back to the right before resuming his route. Abul smiled at him with a measure of admiration.

"Why haven't they given up?" I asked.

Mendo took my question seriously. He breathed out in annoyance at the truth of the matter, "I don't quite understand myself."

"Stupidity." Abul replied.

"Maybe." Mendo tightened his grip on the wheel. "Their former leader was powerful enough to keep a hold on his presence in both the Northeast and Northwest; although he started with little, Ridha Uesugi knew more about managing an army than operating a gang."

"I see. He was the opposite of the Father."

Mendo snickered, "Psh. Don't talk too much about the Father, Ab. The Meiziki take their leader more seriously than any other syndicate in the Citadel."

"And you don't?" I asked incredulously.

"You two should know, better than anyone, how I feel about fathers in general."

Mendo had betrayed his father and later killed his own son in order to further his ambitions. To his credit, though, both Ovo and Elder Nagao had turned out to be fairly despicable characters who didn't really appeal to Mendo's personal philosophy. Mendo was kinder than them but just as brutal in his methodology.

"Do you think the contingent's already crushed them?" Abul relaxed in his seat as he spoke.

"I'm unsure. We haven't heard from them yet, but we should've some time ago—which reminds me,"—Mendo retrieved his Kom Cell—"I have to let headquarters know about the ammo situation. Resupply was two days ago; how did they run through it so fast?"

As Mendo called back to central Meiziki command, we drove into an area of the Fourth Quadrant decorated in clusters of neon beams arbitrarily placed by the district's former gang runners. We pulled up to a building of stone with a sign that read: "Kovav's Warehouse."

It wasn't anything like a warehouse. Actually, it was structured more or so in the image of jewelry shop that might've been found on a Mid-City boulevard. While we waited for Mendo to finish his report to one of the five Meiziki Seneschals (a rank designated above a Lieutenant and right below the Father himself), a shadow appeared behind a wide but opaque window that displayed the silhouettes of mannequins and item stands from within. He was watching us intently, which seemed to annoy Mendo and Abul a lot.

After Mendo ended his call, Abul asked, "Is this one of our own?"

"No." Mendo looked back at me and ordered, "Bring it out."

At my feet, there was a long handle affixed to a thick blade at a length three times its own. It had to be propped diagonally to fit within the cruiser, and I awkwardly managed to remove it as all three of us stepped out.

I handed Mendo his ōdachi.

"Thank you." He nodded respectfully before we started toward the entrance of the store.

"I thought we'd claimed every business in the Fourth Quadrant," Abul muttered.

"Not quite. But we will. The Uesugi is running out of allies, so I know we will."

We stepped through wooden double doors and into a checkered, tiled shop brightened by a series of silver chandeliers. Directly before us was a glass counter showcasing an odd mixture of pendants, wide knives with decorated hilts, and bullets painted in every color. The back of the room was blocked off by the counter, but it extended past blocks of marble and beyond entrances into a bunch of private bedrooms. At the far end of the long hallway to our left, I saw a golden bodhisattva statue gazing our way with a wizened demeanor.

"Lovely tastes," Mendo said.

"May I help you sirs?" The man, formerly at the window, was now cautiously eyeing us from behind the counter.

"I'm assuming you must be 'Kovav?'" Mendo got serious; he glared at the speaker.

"N... no." Kovav shuddered nervously. His reddish beard took up the majority of his acne-ridden face, and one of his eyes seemed to bulge from its socket without truly seeing. He was shorter than all of us but quite stocky, and his fattened fingers drew sweat across the top of the counter.

Abul noticed this before any of us.

"No?" he spoke this time instead of Mendo. "Then who are you? What is this place?"

"W-we..." Kovav struggled to keep himself from shaking. "I know of no 'Kovav.' We sell trinkets—j-just trinkets, you see!"

He gestured around the shop, but none of us looked. He tried to move his right hand out of sight, but Mendo held up his own while gripping his weapon more fiercely.

"Stop." Mendo said.

"I-I don't want any trouble."

The man was sweating harder now while his face flushed scarlet.

"You are Kovav." Mendo stated. "Who else would act like the owner of this place."

He stepped forward and shouted, "Who do you serve?"

Kovav flinched and backed away, instantly forgetting whatever was under the counter. "The U-Uesugi! I've already made my payments—m-made your weapons—"

"We are NOT the Uesugi!" Mendo growled.

He placed his freehand on the counter with authority.

"Rather, we are part of a new era, Kovav. Why are you supplying the enemy? Do you realize that they're killing our people! Do you?"

"I-I'm just a lowly worker, sirs—"

"SHUT UP!" Mendo hammered his fist on the counter and leaned forward. "Tell me who's in the back, Kovav."

"Wha—?"

"Who's in the back, Kovav? Tell me."

"Sir, this is a mis—"

Without hesitating, Mendo spun and slashed his ōdachi through the air in a wide arc! His blade soared with incredible speed—

The edge of it halted right before slicing through Kovav's neck. A drop of blood flowed from a small cut produced from how sharp the blade was.

Mendo grinned. "Go ahead then. Tell me everything."

Kovav staggered and fell against the wall.

His skin grew abnormally tight against his face, pressing against bone itself. Clusters of veins showed as his cheeks turned a sickly pallor. Kovav grasped at his throat, trying to speak, and he abruptly reached out toward Mendo in desperation.

I looked and saw that the Lieutenant's eyes were glowing with a cold, grey light; Mendo refused to break his gaze.

"You can only speak the truth now," he said.

Kovav's shook as he kept himself from falling over. He began coughing uncontrollably.

"Kovav..."

"I-I sold her!"

"What?" Mendo raised an eyebrow. "Sold who?"

I watched as a tear escaped from Kovav's right eye.

"For the startup—augh," he coughed once more and then finished with, "they wanted more for the Hive. The Uesugi needed more... 'drones,' they said—I swear it!"

"Who did you sell to the Uesugi and why?" Abul spoke up.

Kovav looked away, proceeding to shudder. "I sold... her. My daughter."

Mendo said nothing.

"They promised me a partnership." The color returned to his face, but blood still trickled from the small incision.

Mendo could use his zol to compel others to speak the truth once he'd spilled their blood.

"The Uesugi promised me an establishment. I could run a business and divide the profits with them—"

"By selling bullshit?" Mendo lowered his weapon.

Abul scowled. "What a despicable human."

"Despicable, indeed." Mendo turned his gaze toward the ground and simply asked again, "Where are they, Kovav?"

Kovav stared at us almost apologetically. When he spoke, it was almost in a whisper:

"There's three of them. Two on the left and one—"

Members of the Uesugi sprang from their hiding places immediately.

Mendo grunted, then he whirled through the air; he brought his ōdachi around and cleaved through Kovav's neck, sending his head rolling across the counter. Mendo hefted it by its hair.

At the same time, Abul concentrated intensely:

The Uesugi footsoldier on the right side, who was garbed in lightweight, bulletproof armor, let loose a feral growl. He turned his sawn-off shotgun toward his own allies. The two plate-armored soldiers barely noticed the attack in time and ducked to avoid the incoming blast! The sound of green metal tearing rang out across the room.

One soldier leapt back to his feet. He'd taken shrapnel across his chest and face, and, still, he charged toward the soldier with the shotgun.

Before his target could collect his scrambled thoughts and fire again, his cheekbone was smashed open by the force of a spiked bat.

The other soldier who'd thrown himself to the grown clutched at an abdominal wound. He used the wall behind him as leverage to position himself on his knee, then he retrieved a sidearm and aimed—

Mendo hurled Kovav's decapitated head with incredible speed! It bashed in the shooter's helmet, knocking him unconscious.

Abul shifted his focus to the last member, who was wielding the bat. We watched as he looked to us with an empty expression and convulsed while he stayed standing. The hand armed with the spiked bat rose in the air...

And Mendo stopped whatever his following plans were. He placed his hand on Abul's shoulder, "No."

"Milord?"

It was one of the few times I'd heard the demon address another human as such. Abul's admiration for Mendo might've outweighed his respect for me.

Mendo glanced in my direction without making eye contact. "It's Tavon's turn."

He grabbed a snub-nosed revolver tucked into the waistband at his back and tossed it to me. I inspected it for a moment, realizing that there wasn't a safety switch.

Mendo wouldn't look at me. "Go on," he said.

I hurdled over the counter in a show of confidence but stopped when seeing the possessed Uesugi trembling. His body couldn't move, but his eyes trailed me. I stood before him, spread my feet, and leaned into a proper stance.

I was nervous.

Abul scoffed, "C'mon, Tavon! I can't hold him in place forever—this one's fighting!"

Mendo was carefree, as if he expected me to fail regardless of the situation. He said to me, "Finish anyone you think might still be alive. We can't risk followers."

"Do it, Tavon! It's not like you haven't before!"

I hated him for saying that, but...

It was true.

I looked into the Uesugi soldier's eyes, and—for a moment—they changed. His eyebrows curled to meet in the middle, he bared his teeth, and he broke free of Abul's control for only a brief time to say:

"Bleed out, inbred scum."

I pulled the trigger.

It was a clean shot. The bullet drove through his forehead; the Uesugi collapsed lifelessly.

"Goddammit, Tavon!" Abul shouted, "What was the holdup, warrior?" I noticed he'd been sweating profusely from his efforts.

"The one on your left now. His throat's exposed."

The other member's face had been reduced to a disfigured, gory mess after being struck with Kovav's head—which itself had broken open to spill its contents across the tiled flooring.

"But," I said, "he doesn't look—"

"What did I say, Tavon?"

I fired the revolver, missing the first time, but the round lodged itself into his breastplate. I shook my head and refocused; I aimed, slowing my breathing. The revolver thundered, and my next round pierced my target's jugular. Blood spurted. I turned away.

Abul sighed in disappointment and then asked our Lieutenant, "What now?"

Mendo wiped down his ōdachi with Kovav's wool shirt and replied calmly, "The Hive's on the way...

"Before meeting up with contingency forces, we'll free his daughter from the Uesugi."
3

Zola Bali

\--

Zola

\--

I LOVE MY HUSBAND.

Not against my will, not because I'm afraid of what he can do... no.

I love him because I choose to do so. He may be a monster to some, but he is my monster. When he's away on business, I often write. In fact, he's negotiating a merger right now as I finally write down everything that's happened to me. Like him, I make art; it's what Awakened me.

This is the story of how we met and how I became more powerful than he could ever hope to be...

\--

Twelve years ago, at eleven years old, my home was invaded.

I was a Gaspul native, living in the Northwest and far from the reaches of the Citadel. My city, Ruzumbhad, was situated among a subtropical desert. Its shining sands spanned hundreds of miles, often shadowed by great, rock-laden outcroppings concentrated in the West and preceding a long canyon. The arid draw beginning before the canyon's start was barely seeable from a watchtower formed from mudbrick.

My father helped man the watchtower as part of the city's militia. We were independent from the rest of the world. Ruzumbhad housed a population of millions—enough to hold back small threats as well as larger groups of disgusting creatures. On the day that Ruzumbhad was finally overrun, I sat on the edge of the watchtower as my father looked out across his city with pride.

\--

We were on the path to modernization. Half the city had been rebuilt using brick and mortar imported from southern settlements and then painted to mirror the mudbrick constructions and huts littering the other side. We had a decent understanding of medicine; viral infections had decreased, frequent trade had brought prosperity due to us having significant reserves of minerals such as bentonite, gypsum, and kaolinite, and Ruzumbhad was hailed a center of religious freedom.

I enjoyed my childhood there. I was one of the few in my age group who still enjoyed the city's rigorous schoolwork.

I admired my beautiful home and breathed in fresh air as my dad strode near with figs in hand and politely nudged me.

"Shukemetz, baba, but I already ate."

He was aghast. "You've broken bread four times today, Zola! If you're not careful," he said with a smile, "you'll bloat. We'll have no daughter to call our own—Alas, what would God think of us if we allowed you to bloat, to bloat and die, Zola!"

"Shush." I grinned.

He was a silly man and more talkative than me or my mom, but his heart was kind. Kind and unbreakable.

"Ah." He backed away a little. "I see that you're deep in prayer. One must always please God fi—"

"Shut UP, baba!" I stood so that I could push him while I kept my attitude playful. He didn't always understand social cues.

But my father gasped, his hand opened, and figs began to rain down!

I darted forward and tried my best to sweep them up, but he tackled me to the ground, rubbed my head, and jeered, "Look what you've gone and made me do, Zola!"

"Baba!" I shouted, "Not right now!"

His laughing failed to cease until he stood to shake the dust from his robe. I propped my back up with my hands and shook my head. "Baba, you fool..."

I grumbled while wiping the dirt off my hands and then noticed that his expression had suddenly changed.

He was... scared.

"Baba?"

I stood up and looked to see what appeared to be an immense black sphere drifting through the skies. It was a shape that diminished the image of the Sun itself, its body moving with a dreadful march toward the Great Light's noon position. Below it, a shadow began to swallow our city.

"Has God granted us darkness?" father murmured to himself.

"Baba!" I held onto him for comfort. "I'm scared."

"It's okay, my dear." He clenched his jaw after speaking, ran his left hand reassuringly through my hair, and balled his other into a fist.

From the northeast corner of the Ruzumbhad, a siren sounded. From the southeast, the bell tower—standing at half our tower's height—rang out across the city. We heard frantic commotion below us as the dark sphere came to the peak of its ascent.

"Look away, ibna!"

I didn't look away.

I screamed when black dots dominated my sight. I sank to the ground and shielded my eyes as blood poured from them.

"Ibna!"

My father embraced me, protecting me with his body. "It shall be fine, ibna. God, as always, shall protect us. This, my dear, is merely a small test of our faith."

Below us, the collective voices of people increased in tone. Ruzumbhad had been blanketed in an early night. Torches were lit all around; I could just barely see. I pushed my father away and pressed my eyelids together over burning retinas. At first, he moved toward me again but found himself awestruck upon looking toward the skies.

Within the dark form obscuring all below it, two slits emerged. They steadily peeled open to reveal clear, white orbs looking down on us.

There was an explosion at the Northern Gate, and this was followed by several more, each of which detonated at separate times beneath the city streets and dirt pathways. Citizens cried in agony as unknown ordnances went on to implode around the watchtower, and my father rushed to sound an alarm built into the tower before lifting me up and placing me on his shoulders.

With considerable effort, he sprinted down a flight of woodened steps and insisted, "We have to get your mama now! Ruzumbhad is under attack!"

While on the steps, something impacted the building, which knocked my father off balance. He grabbed my elbow and hefted me in front of him as we both fell toward the bottom center.

"Baba!" I screamed helplessly, but his hands remained firm.

I collided with his abdomen as he hit the ground and sprung to my feet.

"Hurry, baba!" I shouted and turned to help him climb back up...

His knee had shattered. Bone protruded from an opening below it and in splintered fragments. Father was trembling as he reached toward me with tears in his eyes.

"Go!" he said to me. "God shall see to my preservation, ibna, as God always has."

I rushed to his side without truly understanding. I tried to lift him, but—for the first and only time in his life—he struck me across the cheek.

I backed away and caressed my face. "Baba..."

"Leave me, ibna!" he spat, "Find your mother before it's too late!"

The blue-painted, wooden entrance to the building shook from a strong force applied from without.

"No, baba."

The double doors were kicked open, and men garbed in tan and tattered hide armor appeared wielding guns as well as scimitars as they charged into the room.

Their lead man, a figure whose face was covered with a black scarf, shouted something at me that I couldn't understand. When I didn't respond immediately, he grunted and brought the end of his rifle against my jaw, fracturing it, and sent me to the floor. I looked up, then burning pain ensued. I spit fragments of white into my open palm.

I started to cry despite the misery the wound had caused me, but the soldier screamed, "SHUT UP!"

He moved the end of the barrel near my face, glaring at me with a hatred I'd never experienced.

My father weakly looked my way before pleading, "Please don't hurt her. She knows not of—"

Another of the armed men leveled his rifle at my father. He shot him through the skull at least five times...

"A cripple," he said. "Gozad has no use for the disabled."

He pulled down his scarf to bare his rotted teeth at me in a grin. His hand, unwashed, missing a finger, and layered in a film of dirt and sand, grabbed my arm with almost enough strength to break it. I couldn't move my jaw any longer without sending a jolt of pain throughout, and so I simply obeyed as he ushered me outside to witness the horrors occurring in my homeland.

\--

Gunfire sounded all around me as organized units sprinted through the city in waves. A group of similarly-dressed fighters, directly in front of us and before a series of carpeted vendor stalls, loaded their assault rifles and gunned down fleeing citizens with abandon. The leftmost shooter kicked over several stalls, laughing as he did so. Like him, others had gotten drunk prior to the raid.

Toward the East, their army evoked fires and spread them in abundance. Another wave of men arriving in my immediate area looked in the direction of the flames and exclaimed in unison, "FOR GOZAD!"

One of them, garbed in only a brown kimono and waving around, on a chain, what looked to be a deformed mass that barely resembled a face, took a barrel of oil from his companion and dumped it along a large grouping of huts partially built with wood.

"Fire for Gozad," he chuckled.

My captor shoved me, ordering, "MOVE!"

He and his team moved me along to the left and past several square, mudbrick buildings standing just above their heads. A sandstorm had formed in the chaos and hurled grey wisps through the shadowy landscape.

Ahead of us, a soldier held his scimitar at the throat of an armed villager, smiling wickedly. The villager abruptly moved his pistol to fire at him, but—

Black appendages sprang from the soldiers back! The bottom of his mouth ripped from its hinges to form a mandible that displayed rows upon rows of teeth. His eyes erupted in a white liquid, which splattered across his prey's face, burning the villager as he screamed in agony and dropped his weapon. The appendages behind him formed a second, furred, and slender body, tall enough to hoist his human form into the air. The top extremities themselves, mere pointed spines, aimed down and ejected from their original points to impale their victim!

Bright blood spurted from his writhing figure until the man's head sank low, and then his spirit left his body. The monster brought the corpse toward its open mouth—

From a corner formed from a dense cluster of buildings, more villagers appeared with small, automatic weapons and fired on the monster's location. Immediately, its appendages reared themselves forward and deflected a wave of bullets soaring toward its head! The beast shrieked before it proceeded to eat the corpse within a self-made shield.

I was forced to the ground as my captors sprinted forward and took cover behind the beast. They waited until the first flurry of bullets stopped; from there, they responded in sync and began shooting at the villagers without ever taking cover. I cried more as I felt someone push me down into the sand.

"It's for His glory," he said.

My body heaved as tears continued to flow, and... he enjoyed it. He was laughing at my suffering.

I decided I wouldn't cry any more after that day.

My captor moved me forward again. He made me confront the beast, who eyed me with a ravenous hunger as gore and bits of bone leaked from its deformed mouth.

"Oh?" it whispered more than it spoke and in a tone that pervaded the air around me.

"She is not for you," my captor said.

"Bother..."

The creature shifted so that it could feast on the multitude of bodies having been produced by the firefight.

One of the wounded villagers, his lower limbs littered with bullet holes, attempted to crawl away from the scene while moaning.

My captor walked up to him and put a round in his head. "More fodder for our men," he said.

"Naqib Elka'b!"

My captor turned to address another of the soldiers, "Speak, Mulazim Shebu."

"My Naqib, very respectfully I ask thee: where shall we take her?"

Elka'b looked forward and waved them all along.

"Further reinforcements are due to arrive with mortars. They'll bombard areas the Fariq High Lord identifies as the most defended."

"From there, my Naqib?"

The surrounding buildings were now populated with more of their soldiers on standby. Each straightened and rendered an unusual salute; they placed two fingers at the centers of their foreheads.

"Carry on, Servants!" Elka'b beckoned, "Capture the young. Kill all above fourteen. Take Ruzumbhad for yourselves!"

"Ay!" I heard them echo collectively before they dispersed and scattered throughout the rest of the city.

"Mulazim Shebu."

"Yes, my Naqib?"

My captor nodded at a building made from limestone and elevated so that it increasingly collapsed inward on itself before rounding out into an enclosed chamber at the top, which had been painted lavender. It was one of the four mosques of Ruzumbhad; all of them were erected in faith to the same God but separated to ensure convenience of travel for everyone.

"We'll shelter ourselves in the temples of the nonbelievers." Elka'b laughed. "Our Fariq's grand plan is to use their faith against them, you see! The Dawn Federation will not attack religious institutions, and the other Gaspulans will not go out of their way to disrespect their God."

"Ah..."

"You understand now, Mulazim Shebu?"

"Indeed, my Naqib." Shebu responded, "We'll position our mortars around the enemy's blasphemy."

"And Gozad shall see to our victory."

We arrived before a long flight of stone steps ascending toward the entrance to the mosque my family had frequently attended and had often compelled me to go to even when I'd refused. The majority of Ruzumbhad defenders had gathered here to make a final stand against their oppressors.

They spotted us, armed with everything from heavy machine guns to handguns to snipers, and they shifted their aims from a young man covered in a grey robe. He seemed to be mocking them and laughed when they turned toward us; their leader, Imam Cazardak of the mosque, demanded: "HALT! We will shoot!"

Naqib Elka'b snickered.

"You fools," he said, "overlooking the true danger..."

Elka'b pushed me in front of him and concentrated his aim at the back of my head. "If you make any other moves," he exclaimed, "we'll kill another nonbeliever!"

My Imam looked to me with sorrow clearly contained in his eyes. He'd taught me so much about what my faith meant during my childhood. So much, and I can hardly remember it all now; it's a memory distant from terrors I faced which altered me forever.

The young man in the center of the scene, Fariq High Lord Atanase, cackled above all the frantic yelling and drew everyone's attention. A faint light shone from his pupils, and he widened his stance as he bellowed:

"What fools! How could you cling to something you already know you'll lose?"

His hair reddened and rose above his temples.

"We will not surrender our faith to savage killers!" the Imam declared.

"Ah..."

Crimson static cracked the air around Atanase; he was but a teenager, but his power was astounding.

Atanase clenched his fists, bringing them to his sides, and then he emitted a roar that struck through the surrounding area, a roar that resonated above any sound they could make in resistance. An aura outlined in red expanded around him.

Atanase looked down.

He said, "So. Be. It."

A great beast formed from the flames that spiraled out from his body; it increased to a size much greater than the mosque itself.

It reared its head, which revealed scales armoring an extended snout that was lined with black teeth. Its beady eyes were as fierce embers illuminated more intensely than the rest of its body, and Atanase's ending transformation became something resembling a wyvern summoned by the fire of his soul. At its bottom, standing at the center, was the Fariq's silhouette. Atanase straightened his posture with hands raised.

The Imam and his men focused their fire on Atanase himself, but his new form lurched upward and then down to embrace them!

A storm of fire engulfed the Ruzumbhad villagers, promptly charring their bodies beyond recognition. Within seconds, they ceased existing as the mosque was left to burn in what could've been an unending flame.

The fire had left Atanase, who fell to a knee and gasped for air. His figure was weak, frail from having gone past his limits.

Naqib Elka'b picked me up by the collar of my shirt, then he threw me at his master.

"A gift, my Fariq!"

He humbled himself and kissed the ground at Atanase's feet.

Atanase, utterly exhausted from his efforts, suddenly became enraged once more. His eyes shifted to a hue of blood red. He gritted his teeth.

"Have I erred, my Fariq?"

Atanase ignored me. Instead, he strided toward his subordinate.

Atanase reached his hand back, and he slapped Elka'b!

The strike was weak, but the Naqib faked the impact of the blow and pretended to collapse onto the ground out of respect.

He uttered, "Oh, my Fariq, how have I failed thee? I am deserving of a thousand lashes, I am a disgrace, I—"

"Be quiet." Atanase knew he was faking and looked angrier at himself than anyone else. He breathed out and looked off into the distance. "The girl..."

"Yes, my Fariq?"

Atanase snorted, "Do with her what you will, as I have no interest in sheltering weaklings. If she's later blessed by Gozad, then perhaps we may have a use for her."

"Impossible." Elka'b snickered. "A woman blessed by Gozad?"

"Do you doubt your Deliverer's Guidance, Naqib Elka'b?"

Elka'b shuddered in fear. "No, my Fariq."

Atanase smirked. "Good. Bring her with us into the mosque to the South. From there, we may establish our offense once we've disposed of the nonbelievers."

\--

They strapped my hands and feet in cuffs which were linked together by two separate chains. They gagged me with a scarf covered in blood and soot. I was blindfolded, made to huddle with a group of other girls my age.

The soldiers separated us from a group of boys, a handful of those wounded from prior gunfights, and the elderly. While I was lying on the ground and near to a younger girl, who was weeping for us all, I heard some of the older Ruzumbhad natives pleading with them. Shouting from the soldiers ensued; gunshots followed. I heard people scramble to escape, then I heard gasps as rounds pierced flesh and sent the bodies of villagers thudding onto the marble flooring.

The girl next to me continued to cry and so caught the attention of another of the soldiers. A gruff man pulled her to her feet and ordered, "Cease this emotional outburst, for now you reside in the Hands of Gozad!"

She was too young to gather herself and could only say in response, "Mama! I want ma—"

He shot her.

Those around me quivered in terror as her blood covered us. I hid my head from him and remained quiet; I'd already decided not to cry anymore. I wouldn't cry for Gozad; I wouldn't surrender to His tyranny. I wanted my mother, too, but I had to be strong for my family.

Yet another girl started to weep.

I heard the soldier move toward her until he was stopped by someone—

"Enough!" It was Elka'b's voice.

"My Naqib, I only—"

"How can you expect them to rebirth as Gozad's Harem by demonstrating such cruelty, eh? Do you believe this is a proper reflection of our God's Way?"

"No, my Naqib—"

"Then depart and help extinguish the survivors!"

Elka'b shoved him, then he strode nearer to stand over us. His breathing increased. He sounded abnormally satisfied.

The next thing I knew was that Elka'b crouched down beside me when he whispered, "Wouldn't this nonbeliever like to know how we took the city so easily? Are you not curious as to the workings of fate?"

I freed my mouth of the scarf to say to him, "No."

Elka'b grabbed it up and inspected the item for a moment before continuing, "You don't wish to know who it was who sold your people?"

I didn't say anything.

Elka'b grunted and grabbed my head. He shoved the scarf into my mouth again and held it there.

"If you will not speak, I will take your voice from you. A nonbeliever has no respect for the most basic of privileges, I see!"

The Naqib kicked my lower back and then forced my face into the mosque flooring. "Very well. I'll tell you the truth of it."

Elka'b whispered, "Your people desired the Gifts offered by Gozad. We are the Gozadalus, the Deliverers of a New Kingdom—as spoken by our Deliverer Himself.

"Your people turned against you, planted bombs within the inside of Ruzumbhad for us, and now they've received their just dues in return."

He pressed harder. Blood gushed from my nose, but I held back my tears.

"The unwashed of this land cannot be salvaged—not without the necessary Gift. Gozad deemed them unworthy, and so we executed them in payment for their treason."

Elka'b laughed maliciously. "As you know now: there is no escape from Judgement."

\--

The Gozadalus held me as their captive in that same mosque for several days. I wasn't allowed to move from that spot, and I was only given water when they decided to merely dump a barrel of it onto our group. We couldn't shower, leave to defecate, and we were ordered to remain in place as additional shootouts occurred on the outside of the mosque.

I learned how to sleep with my back slanted. The aching went away after the second day. Some of the other girls had soiled themselves by that time, but those of the Gozadalus didn't express disgust despite an odor pervading the air. Some girls died from shock; they collapsed onto the ground, then they stopped breathing until the soldiers took them away to be burned with the bodies of the others.

On the third day, the last groups left with us were executed by a firing squad. I couldn't hear Elka'b's voice anymore, and Atanase had departed long ago. The soldiers remaining primarily consisted of the lower-enlisted, it seemed, although I still didn't entirely understand how their ranking structure worked. They didn't bother us at much by that point, but, one evening, a small team gathered around our prison.

"Have we received word on what to do with them?" one soldier inquired.

Someone else, someone I'm presuming was their leader, announced, "As the other villagers have been exterminated, I believe these are ours to do with as we please now. The High Lord insisted that we work toward making Ruzumbhad our home. It will be renamed 'Daluszn,' after Fariq High Lord Daluszn, and I expect that we can repopulate it ourselves."

"Indeed!" a less intelligent-sounding member replied with repulsive enthusiasm.

The other girls had grown completely quiet now. We knew that we would have to accept the ongoing events or succumb to the same end as so many had before us.

"My Mulazim, they reek. The scent of the unholy is quite foul, don't you think?"

"Alas," he responded, "these people have been kept ignorant from His Light. It is to be expected that they would not understand principles of hygiene—they are not blessed ones, after all."

The Mulazim grabbed my arm and then lifted me up.

"I fancy this girl, however. My men, you may choose whoever you desire—only, you must take care to wash them of their filth. The Ruzumbhad nonbelievers have wallowed in it for far too long. This is their necessary punishment."

\--

"I am a Mulazim among my people, but you will refer to me as your 'Otto.' Otto is how the Gozadalus say 'husband,' and my name is Cayain. Therefore, you will address me as 'my Otto, Cayain.' Understand?"

He removed my blindfold and the scarf from my mouth, and I nodded. I didn't want to agree to such a thing out loud, but he would kill me if I didn't submit to such cruelty. When I was permitted to open my eyes, after having spent so much time in the dark hearing the torment around me, my vision had changed:

I could see black-and-white. Solely.

I wasn't used to it, and so I couldn't quite make out the details around me. I knew, however, that I'd been moved to one of the mudbrick houses on the wealthier side of the city renamed to Daluszn. All that lit up the room happened to be a series of lamps strategically positioned throughout the area so as not to give away our presence. The ground was mostly sand, and there was one bedroll in the northeast corner, next to an ink quill and sheets of paper. Alongside those, I noticed a large tome that didn't show any title or description.

Cayain ushered me outside and whispered, "Hurry! We mustn't let anyone view you while away from my quarters!"

I was still bound, so he stripped me of my clothes himself and cringed when the smell worsened. Cayain grabbed a bucket, then he hurried to dump its contents over me. I shivered upon feeling the frigid temperature of the water.

He pushed me against the wall of the house and tried to conceal my body as he started to scrub me down thoroughly.

"It is okay," he said. "I will purify you in the eyes of our God. He will recognize our marriage."

I said nothing, and he knocked my head against the brick. "What is the appropriate response?" he demanded.

"...Y-yes, my Otto."

That night, the man who'd declared himself my husband walked me back into the house, placed me in the center of the room, and proceeded to stare at me for a very long time. If life had been the way it once was, I would've yelled at him for looking at me in such a way. I was only a girl, and Mulazim Cayain had aged to be, at least, in his thirties. He was a filthy, horrible man.

"I will have you," he told me.

"Please..." I didn't know what to say to change his mind. I thought that I could appeal to his kinder side.

He stepped forward; he wouldn't stop staring. "You are a virgin, are you not?"

"Please don't hurt m—"

"Gozad has ordained all virgins to be purified by His men. We can deliver you into a higher status—a status above the animals."

He grasped my arms and breathed a disgusting omen over me. "Why would you not desire such a fate?"

"I'm sorry. Don't hurt me—I'm not of the age—"

"You're not of the age to receive Gozad's blessing?" Cayain appeared genuinely bewildered, but his smile returned. "Most of them have said the same thing to me..."

Yellowed teeth bared themselves.

"I purified them all in His image."

\--

I don't wish to write of what happened to me on that night, and that's because it repeated itself for what felt like an eternity afterwards.

Mulazim Cayain took me against my will. I was in chains and tried to resist, but, every time I fought back, Cayain punched or kicked me. He put his weight down upon me, atop his bedroll, and buried my face in his sheets.

It hurt.

I didn't know what I was expected to feel, but the pain was immeasurable. It's a pain of more than one part, if that makes any sense.

It seeps into you, and you have to accept it. The acceptance brings with it disgust that your own body would commit to such a betrayal. I couldn't help how I responded, but it felt unnatural; my body came to want something I could never desire. There was blood, and the smell of him mixed with my own made me want to vomit. But... if I vomited, Cayain would most likely kill me.

When that evil creature took me on that night, I questioned whether the quality of my existence could outweigh my need to live. Cayain wanted to give me children, but he gave me other afflictions that could've destroyed my body. I believe that, because of him, I'm unable to bear children today—and that's why I hate him.

\--

I hated him for the years that followed.

Mulazim Cayain, who'd originally believed that he would be my sole "husband," and who'd spent increasingly more of his time attending to me, was eventually called away to lead his men in the continuing defense of Daluszn.

The day he accepted his orders to leave, Cayain stood at the doors to our house with his hands on his hips. He smirked as strange figures grew in number around him. Cayain looked down on me in superiority.

"Today," he said, "I have renounced your status as a wife to a Gozadalus leader and declared your new position to be a whore to my followers.

"This fate is just in Gozad's eyes, and you will accept all of them. Is that clear?"

I couldn't believe it.

"Is that CLEAR, harlot?"

I glared at him.

"Yes... my Otto."

\--

I was given four keepers: Initiate Sun'swi, Initiate Kier, Initiate Piad, and Mulazim Vonz.

When I was fourteen, they took over in Cayain's place. I was declared as the first and only member of their harem; they each used me to satisfy their needs at different times.

I hated them all. I hated the way they spoke to me, like an animal. I hated the way they smelled—as they often didn't bathe—and hated looking at them. I still could only view the small world around me in black and white, and I was somewhat grateful that I'd never be able to truly see them as they were.

Mulazim Vonz, who was assigned to that area of the village to keep watch while the Gozadalus rebuilt their new city, often sent his men out to train and perform their rounds without him. He was obsessed with me; Vonz became the one soldier who was always there, watching and waiting to take me against my will whenever they gave him the chance. He once said to me, "Why do you accept me with such disgust, harlot? Do you not enjoy your station in life—would you rather the fate of the nonbelievers in this cursed world?"

I replied, "My Mulazim, to not cherish my life would be an act against God and a crime against myself."

He grew angry.

"But why do you not take pleasure in the lusts of the flesh as we do? You are a bitter harlot." Vonz' voice was cold in its tone.

"A true follower of his faith does not need to succumb to such desires. He is above it."

Vonz was bewildered. "Is that so?"

"Indeed it is, my Mulazim."

He stepped toward me, and I shuddered. They'd kept me locked in this place for a time, only allowing me to leave when necessary for my body.

Vonz appeared ready to strike.

He'd do it again; he'd beat me until I could no longer speak and stare at him with my hatred, and then he'd do as he pleased. My only consolation is that I could pass on the infection with which Cayain had previously afflicted me.

I didn't smile, but my heart beat faster at the thought of his eventual suffering. Vonz raised his fist and snarled!

He punched the wall beside me.

"How can a harlot speak such wisdom to a believer..."

I didn't know how to respond, but he continued to lament in a way I'd never expected.

"Perhaps this is the very reason why I have not been Blessed with Gozad's love! Tell me, harlot: what is your name?"

"Zola. Zola Bali."

"A surname?" He looked me over curiously. "Were you of royalty?"

"No." I shook my head. I removed my gaze so as to avoid his putrid breath. "I had a family."

He grinned madly. "Did we kill them?"

"My father, yes. I do not know the fate of my mother—"

"Most likely made a whore as well." He backed away and started laughing.

I wanted to kill him on the spot.

Vonz stared at me through bloodshot eyes. "Do you regret living as a nonbeliever?"

"I never knew of Gozad until your band app—"

"'Gozad's People,' you mean?"

"Indeed, my Mulazim."

Vonz strolled over and poured himself arak (an alcoholic drink) from a vase into a ceramic cup. He walked back over to me and held the cup to my lips.

"Is it drink that you miss the most, Harlot Zola?"

I turned away from him. "No."

His interested was piqued, but he shrugged nonchalantly and chugged the contents of the cup before dropping it onto the sand.

He stepped closer and placed his hands on the wall behind me.

"Zola," he said, "what would please you? What would satisfy you in your station?"

"I do not wish to be touched."

"Ah, a harlot who does not wish to harlot—I am confounded..."

He rubbed his chin. Then, he declared something I didn't expect: "I will touch you no longer, Zola." His upper lip curled, "You stink like a rotten animal to me... it, eh, makes the whole thing less pleasurable—but, my men, they will have none of your words, you see."

"I know."

The lower-enlisted were far more callous than their masters and prone to being more violent despite me no longer fighting what was an everyday occurrence.

"So, I imagine that a woman such as yourself—one who speaks some wisdom concerning Gozad—requires a hobby.

"A pastime so that you can better allow their transgressions against our Faith."

"If you see them as transgressing, then why don't you punish them?"

This time, Vonz slapped me.

He chuckled. "A woman does not speak on matters concerning men. Do not deign to speak blasphemy upon being offered reprieve—simply tell me what will make you stop despising your masters?"

Nothing would, but I knew, at least, of one thing I truly desired to do.

"I wish to write," I said.

"Oh? To write?" The Mulazim inched closer. "You've been taught to write? In our language?"

"No." I lied. "I was taught to write in the language of the Federation."

"Our greatest enemies. They speak in a tongue not so different from our own, but it is still foreign in regard to our speech. Most of the Gozadalus have forsaken any language Gozad Himself does not understand."

"Please," I said, "allow me to write in the way I know how."

I could write in the Gaspulan tongue as well, but the things they would read...

"I accept your proposal." Vonz smiled at me.

I hated this, too, but I smiled back.

\--

Mulazim Vonz brought me fresh ink and parchment. From then on, I wrote constantly.

I wrote in the morning, I wrote before and after I was inevitably violated in the middle of the day, and at night. In the morning, I would write about my dream of a new life; during the midday, I would write about how I would slaughter each of my captors, and, at dusk, I would write about who I wanted to be when I was finally free. My imagination changed what I put down on the parchment every time; I became someone new with each stroke of the quill.

When I was under their control, the only thing keeping me going was the memory of the fresh air and what it truly meant to be a free woman. I'd taken it for granted. I'd always been bitter at my parents for not allowing me to experience everything that life had to offer, and now I was bitter at my captors for disallowing me to experience life itself. In the end, I wrote that one day I would be free from them. It was in the visions I had that color returned, and I was able to see beauty in the world.

Mulazim Vonz would watch me. He started going on patrols with his men, and, though he refused to molest me any further, he'd sit in the corner of the house and touch himself whenever his soldiers took me as their own.

\--

When I was fifteen, the Dawn Federation attacked.

Daluszn was laid to siege, not by men, but by the ones called 'cyborgs.' They were fusions of flesh and steel; their minds had been removed or altered to reflect a more relentless nature. The Federation's legion of robotic killers did not distinguish between civilian and enemy, they did not care about religious beliefs. Their government had adopted a new tactic, and so they waited outside the radius of Gozadalus mortars and snipers.

They simply... waited.

When they appeared, my captors ceased raping me. They were nervous despite their confidence in their God. It pleased me to watch them squirm and complain amongst themselves.

At noon, they returned as one unit, drenched in sweat. The last man to enter the house, Initiate Sun'swi, was bleeding from a wrapped wound in his forearm. He shivered and held the area while gritting his teeth.

Upon entering, Sun'swi collapsed to the ground, suffering the complaining groans of his comrades:

"Ah, on with yourself, Initiate!" Vonz barked, "Take a seat with the others so we may dress your injury appropriately!"

"Y-yes, my Mulazim!" Sun'swi scampered to climb to his knees but quickly fell on his hands and began gagging.

"You've had nothing to eat, Sun'swi! You cann—"

Spit trickled from his open mouth; Sun'swi shuddered.

"What a fool!" Initiate Kier exclaimed.

"How could a servant of the Most High make such a childish error!"

Vonz grabbed Sun'swi by his hair, then he yanked his head up to scream at him: "Does it reflect kindly on Gozad for one of His Servants to shoot himself in the arm?"

"I-it... ricocheted, my—"

Vonz kicked him in the stomach, and Sun'swi collapsed to the ground while holding his gut.

"A pathetic excuse for a soldier."

I wrote, ignoring them.

"Get up!"

Sun'swi slowly came to his feet.

Vonz shoved him onto a bench, where he was seated next to Initiates Kier and Piad. Their Mulazim then stood before them, scowling.

"We must be ready to defend this Purified City at a moment's notice! Do you not understand what the nonbelievers are capable of?"

"Yes, my Mu—" they all started—

"You DO NOT!"

Vonz punched the wall. He moved to the side of the room, then he flipped over a wooden table.

I wrote faster.

"All of you: push the Earth! Shoulder its weight!"

"My Mulazi—!"

Vonz struck Sun'swi.

"You will push to restore your faith, Initiate! Gozad cares not for the condition of your arms!"

Sun'swi got down with the others and attempted to do a pushup before crying out as he fell over onto his side.

"C'mon, Sun'swi!" Piad warned.

Mulazim Vonz sighed and ignored his subordinate's failure.

I kept writing. Furiously.

"My men!"

"YES, MY MULAZIM!" they shouted.

Sun'swi clambered to move himself upright and attempted to push with one arm.

"What does the servant do to honor his promise to Gozad?"

"HE TAKETH THE SACRAMENT, MY MULAZIM."

I kept my back turned to them, struggling to finish. I knew that time was growing short.

"Verily, and how does one taketh the Sacrament?"

"AN OFFERING OF OUR BLOOD, OUR SWEAT, OUR TEARS FOR HIS BLESSING, MY MULAZIM."

"Indeed! And, verily, when is one purified in His name?"

"BY BLOODYING A CLOTH, BY BURNING IT BEFORE HIS IMAGE, MY MULAZIM."

I was almost done.

"What do we say to Gozad, my men?"

"GRANT US YOUR BLESSING. TODAY AND FOREVER MORE."

I heard Sun'swi fall over again; this time, Mulazim Vonz sat the table upright and hurried over to his soldier.

"Come here!" he shouted gruffly, then he hoisted the man by his bloodied arm. "We shall dress the wound."

As Sun'swi whimpered, Vonz began to remove his cast while muttering to himself. Before he could finish exposing the wound to clean it properly, the Mulazim looked over at me in the corner and was suddenly enraged.

He kicked over an assault rifle, retrieved a small shiv from his waist, and strided in my direction.

I didn't stop writing; there was one last sentence left.

Vonz cried out upon stubbing his toe against a carpenter's hammer and then picked it up to throw the tool at Kier.

Kier dodged the hammer and exclaimed, "We're sorry, my M—"

"Silence!"

Mulazim Vonz grabbed my arm, but I pulled away from him.

I wrote the last word.

"Blaspheming harlot!"

Mulazim Vonz thrust his shiv into the back of my hand and through it into the parchment. My blood splattered across the ink...

Vonz tore the blade from my flesh, and I hardly noticed when the parchment vanished. Something thick weighed down my hand, but it didn't hurt.

He grabbed me by my neck, his other hand holding the bloodied shiv, and prepared to scream in my face, to call me a 'harlot,' before he'd inevitably stab me again!

But he stopped.

I watched his eyes grow wide, and I looked at myself in their reflections:

My own eyes had become inverted, white pupils encircled by midnight-hued irises that grew to take up most of both organs.

"W-what is..." he stuttered. I could tell he wanted to back away, but his fear kept him rigid.

"My Mulazim!" shouted Kier. "Why hesitate? Do you not wish to finish her? I can—"

I grabbed Vonz with my injured hand, and his presence of mind escaped from him. His expression was blank, and Vonz stepped away from me before turning his gaze to the wall behind him. Vonz's body tensed; his face seemed tightly stretched, pressed against a bulging vein in his left temple.

Vonz calmly walked toward Initiate Sun'swi.

He drew a short but thick, one-sided broadsword from the sheathe at his side.

Sun'swi looked up at him.

"My Mulazim? How have I angered t—"

Mulazim Vonz pulled the Initiate's forearm toward him, issued a short, disturbing grunt, then he brought the blade down on his subordinate's elbow.

It only cut halfway through the mesh of bone and flesh. Sun'swi cried out and proceeded to push his body against him to flee!

Despite Sun'swi's desperate efforts, Vonz was unmovable.

"Mulazim Vonz!" the others gasped.

They leapt up to stand near the two, unsure of what actions they should take next.

Sun'swi retrieved his own shiv, then he thrusted it into his master's thigh!

Vonz didn't react.

Instead, he brought his sword above his head and rotated it in an arc.

He dismembered Sun'swi's forearm on his second try and then dropped his sword to replace it with Sun'swi's detached limb.

Mulazim Vonz advanced on his subordinate before he could get away. He tightly grabbed his neck with his free hand. From there, against the pleadings of those around him, Vonz shoved the dismembered end to break through Sun'swi's teeth; he forced the Initiate's own forearm down his throat repeatedly.

Initiate Kier finally dashed in to stop him, but I'd already moved on them.

He saw me before I was close and drew his blade as he snarled, "We've been sleeping with a witch this whole time! Gozad has punished us for our failures as His soldiers!"

Kier raised his sword to strike me, and I closed the distance to touch him with my impaled hand.

Kier dropped the flat end of the blade onto his head and then crouched to retrieve the carpenter's hammer on the ground.

"Kier—Vonz!" Initiate Piad's nearest available weapon was an assault rifle a few feet away from Sun'swi, whose throat burst open as the arm was pressed further toward his stomach. Blood sprayed across Piad's eyes, but he ducked to search for the weapon in spite of his blindness.

By then, Kier was already upon him.

Initiate Kier climbed atop his companion and forced him down, with the weight of his body applied through his knees. He hefted the hammer and bashed at the back of Piad's skull.

"NO! Kier! Kie—"

He bashed at it again and again. Kier roared, gathering his strength, and brought the hammer down to cave in Piad's head.

The body below him seized violently, but Kier refused to stop. Piad drooled a mixture of blood and saliva, his shaking weakened, and Kier finished by driving the hammer down one more time and leaving it stuck in the mess that remained of his comrade's features.

Both Piad and Sun'swi had met with swift ends, and their killers stopped, briefly, to stare at each other. Initiate Kier muttered something incomprehensible and then grabbed the shiv Vonz had discarded earlier. He ambled over to sit in a corner opposite of me and ran the knife through chunks of his own flesh.

What I'd written...

\--

On this day, four men lost themselves.

Mulazim Vonz, their leader, stopped hitting me. He cut off Initiate Sun'swi's lower arm and fed it to him.

Initiate Kier was touched; therefore, he turned on his own and bashed in the brains of Initiate Piad. Upon completion, he removed his skin until he bled out alone.

On this day: Mulazim Vonz helped me escape.

\--

And so it was.

I would have my freedom, and Vonz would lead me to it. I clothed myself in one of Sun'swi's spare uniforms, hiding my face with a scarf as we headed out into a world I'd nearly forgotten. I made the Mulazim carry an assault rifle, and I'd commanded him to free me from my shackles. Parchments were gathered into a bag I'd slung around my shoulders, and we ventured into the light.

It was still midday. Most of the Gozadalus took a break from their regular patrols in order to shield themselves from the heat. There was an incredible light, which I felt would blind me as we quickly walked along a dirt path leading beside numerous mudbrick huts.

I stayed at Vonz's back and decided to use it to write. I didn't know what we would come upon, but I thought of various scenarios. To my shock, my hand had ceased bleeding and seemed to feel fine—as if Vonz had never touched me.

When we'd made it to an open patch of sand, surrounded by debris and fragments of destroyed furniture, we heard screaming. Vonz appeared to come back to himself, but his mind quickly lost hold when I pushed on him.

There were shouts from all sides; gunshots resonated in the distance. It sounded as if the Federation had commenced their assault, but I'd expected more chaos. The Gozadalus' mortars never fired, and so we pressed on through the worsening insanity.

Vonz and I passed by another building housing a group of soldiers who looked on coldly at us. Following that, we came upon four soldiers sitting around a campfire.

They gave us trouble.

"HALT."

A soldier suited in leather armor, reinforced with padding, stepped to confront us.

He waited expectantly for Vonz to do something, but the Mulazim remained unresponsive.

The soldier slapped him.

He shouted, "Is that how you address your Naqib? Mulazim, why is your team short by two?"

Vonz said nothing, and I felt nervous... I hadn't considered their military's traditions.

"He's lost his mind to the heat, my Naqib!" one of the soldiers jeered.

The Naqib gritted his teeth.

He unsheathed his scimitar. He thrust it close to Vonz' neck but seemed taken aback when the lower-ranking soldier didn't respond in any natural way. His eyes flickered in my direction, and he started moving toward me—

"MY NAQIB!"

Another soldier interrupted the confrontation.

He'd arrived from an unknown location, bleeding from his shoulder, and rested against the wall as he breathed more than said, "T-THE NORTH GATE IS UNDER ATTACK!"

"Right."

The Naqib nodded and then glanced at Vonz with mild suspicion. "Gather your men and report to me at the North Gate. We'll decide your punishment there."

I touched Vonz. He replied, "Yes, my Naqib. Apologies, my Naqib."

The Naqib nodded, looked away, and announced to his men, "We're off! To meet the enemy!"

"FOR GOZAD!" they responded in a jovial tune.

I prodded Vonz and faked moving in the opposite direction. Once we'd lost sight of them, we continued toward the South Gate... but the screaming continued.

\--

After traveling for some time and keeping mostly hidden from throngs of soldiers heading in the other direction, I managed to come up with new words for Vonz to repeat if we were yet again confronted:

"I am to report to my Naqib at the South Gate."

We were stopped a total of three times by more like the officer from before, but this response was effective. In a military setting, it was often unwise to disrupt a plan already in motion. Nevermind the many looks of distrust we received, the situation at hand was already too dire.

The Gozadalus had faith, but they knew they couldn't stand against the Federation without taking significant casualties.

A mile out from the South Gate, we were met with a disturbing sight:

Bodies. Blood-drenched streets and buildings. Piles of gore focused in specific areas across the southern city. Trails of crimson now guided our path toward freedom. I didn't hold any fear of what lay ahead, but Vonz was allowing his nerves to get the best of him.

He would stop, and I would push him forward until we were behind a body that moved of its own accord.

I noticed multiple, slender limbs extending out in equal measure from its back; thick, black hair climbed down its neck and covered its shoulders. Its legs had turned gargantuan and trembled in their veiny, greyed appearance as the body hunched down over two corpses and dug through their insides to devour fresh, reddened flesh.

The head of the creature turned completely around and with such speed that the two of us jumped back in fear.

Two rows of eyes, one atop another, peered at us above a bleeding snout and misshapen fangs.

In a gravelly voice, it spoke: "Go. Lest ye join them."

I shoved Vonz, then we sprinted down a narrow stretch of land. As we progressed, we noticed that the ground below had tilted slightly and depressed toward whatever was waiting for us at the gate.

We passed a naked man who'd turned to stone; his body was covered in tattoos, which were etched into the formation as well. He'd screamed before his petrification.

The ground deepened even more so, and we turned the corner of the last hut to see It.

At the South Gate, there loomed a great beast.

Blood ran toward it from all corners of the Earth, and its base was made up by formless slime. The slime oozed from a bloated mass of a lower body; it resembled the grotesque shape of a slug. Above one side of it, a webbed and humanoid arm had been elongated and attached itself to ground. On another side, only a colossal and seven-fingered hand jutted out from the leaking mass and planted its palm downward. Above those, more extremities appeared and shifted slightly to display a multitude of slender, insectoid limbs reaching in the direction of the sky, moving on their own.

Half of the upper body was covered in scales, but the other half was only a mixture of stretch-marked human skin exposing both pus-filled wounds and portions of the fat cells beneath its layers. Sitting atop all of it and several feet above the height of the gate itself...

We witnessed an immense skull, most of it covered in the face of a man. Sections had torn away to reveal the bone beneath, and an eye with only a black pupil hung from its right socket. The skin of its mouth had peeled back to showcase horrible, malformed rows of teeth, and white hair adorned the top of its head in a receding ring.

The abomination spotted us and merely looked without taking action.

Still, I had to press onward.

I would be free, even if it meant facing the impossible. Vonz, however, had stopped completely in his tracks.

In a rage, I punched him.

I grabbed the parchments from my bag and wrote that he would continue out of the gate. I touched Vonz, and blood drained from every orifice as he attempted to resist. His body was locked in a state of perpetual shaking, but he finally stepped in the creature's direction.

And it stared. Not with fascination and not with any definable emotion. It watched us.

When we'd circled around the horrible thing, the beast forced us to the ground while it wailed at an unbelievable volume! I rushed to get to my feet, then I saw its bulging eye inches away from my face.

It spoke:

"An Awakened woman... blessed by Gozad's Touch but not changed. Not indulged? It matters not, Awakened One, for I've a request for you.

"My name is Kluphi. Many of Gozad's servants, myself included, have woken much too early. We weren't as a capable as some—as you are now, but if there is one thing I may ask of you..."

\--

Vonz and I escaped to the outskirts of Daluszn. We hurried down a steep slope of sand into the real world. In spite of my desire to get away from that place as quickly as I could, I knew we had to be smart with our next moves. I'd continue using the Mulazim to my advantage until I no longer needed him to traverse such cursed territory.

I stripped myself of my armor, down to linens. I ordered Vonz to do the same, but he refused to move.

When I'd finished, I went over to him, sighed, and started removing his outerwear for him as he stared dumbly across the horizon. I removed any weapons he'd carried at his side and transferred anything small enough into my bag. Then, I noticed something:

He'd soiled himself. Pissed and shit through his trousers. Vonz's fear must have overtaken him hours ago. I looked at his face and witnessed him shaking, inwardly.

I smiled because he deserved it.

We were to move past Federation soldiers, and so my plan needed to change if we were to head toward Central Gaspul. In the city of Razul, I could locate my cousins, Danduso and his wife, Mierdith. I could live out a new future...

I looked through the parchments I had remaining, realizing that my hand had completely healed by now; I only hoped that my "Blessing" remained in place.

On one of the pages, I'd written: "Kluphi died without pain," and so it was.

He'd been able to pass before we left the South Gate. It was clear to me that he wasn't long for this world anyways, and he'd secured a future victory for the Federation when they retook Daluszn.

On another piece of parchment, I wrote: "Mulazim Vonz renounced his title. He became a wanderer who protected Zola's passage into Razul. When he met the Federation, he prostrated himself at their feet."

I touched Vonz's back, and his entire body straightened for a moment. In a second, he said, "Let's go," and we moved toward a dark line in the distance.

I was going to meet the Federation for the very first time in my life...

"They don't respect us. They care not for our culture," my father had said.

"The Federation has its own goals and thinks itself beyond the Will of God.

"If you ever meet them, promise me that you'll run the other way. Don't let the imperialists catch you."

\--

What I saw reminded me of my parents' faith. There was a sacred quality to it.

The rows of black dots we'd seen earlier steadily distinguished themselves as we progressed. There were thousands of them, thousands upon thousands of warriors about which I'd only read of in religious stories that involved invincible heroes triumphing over evil. It was something I would have normally not thought possible, but the Gozadalus themselves had already shattered my faith in what I'd known to be real my entire life.

A great legion of steel soldiers sat cross-legged in rows stretching for several miles and with their heads all slightly hunched over in what appeared to be a form of meditation. They were quiet, remaining in place as we approached.

Wide, metallic helmets, adorned with spiked "U's," sat atop their heads and concealed their faces with solid plates. Directly in front of me, I noticed that a soldier had placed the tips of their fingers together and formed an oval with its hands, which rested across their thighs segmented in tight, horizontal pieces of armor.

At what was the center of it all, I noticed a stark white pillar reaching miles above and into the skies. I'd later come to see these all the time within the Citadel:

Power stations.

They'd brought with them a portable method of supplying endless energy for their efforts. All of them wielded an assortment of melee weapons as well as different classes of ranged weaponry—from rifles to handguns to missile launchers.

I stepped close to the cyborg in front of us. When it didn't respond, I said, "Hello?"

Nothing happened.

I reached toward him and regretted it. Instantly:

Thousands of helmets shone with a bright light, and all of them activated by looking up at me at once. I gasped and backed away.

They simply gazed without movement or any display of emotion, like I was just another target.

"Halt! W-what are you doing?" someone exclaimed with an accent I didn't quite recognize.

Two Federation soldiers, garbed in camouflaged uniforms matching the terrain around Daluszn, sprinted up to us and brandished their rifles as they demanded, "Hands behind your heads! NOW!"

Vonz got on the ground and prostrated himself.

"Vonz!" I yelled but knew there wasn't anything I could do without writing out another order. I placed my hands behind my head.

"What the hell?" the one on the left, a Captain, cocked his head to the side.

The one on the right, a High Sergeant, formed a disgusted expression. "Look,"—he indicated Vonz—"guy's scared shitless. Literally."

The Captain shook his head and muttered, "Damn Spuus."

"Spuu" was a slur to which I immediately took offense. "Excuse me?" I started to put my arms down.

"DID I SAY TO MOVE?" the Captain aimed his gun at me again, but I didn't surrender this time.

He nodded to his comrade. "Check her."

"But she doesn't look like she's wearing a vest, si—"

"I don't give a fuck, Sergeant. I said to check her!"

"Right..."

The Sergeant moved over and started to pat me down. He seemed sympathetic. "Are you guys escapees?"

I nodded while cringing because yet another man was touching me without my permission. "Daluszn has lost control of itself."

"Wait." He stepped away from me. "What do you mean?"

"Did she say, 'lost control?'"

Now they were both staring at me in bewilderment.

"What's the situation looking like?" the Captain asked.

I sighed. "Daluszn might be at war with itself. The people there are changing into monsters."

"Demons?"

"Something like that. I don't really know."

"I'm not checking the male. He stinks," the Sergeant said flatly.

"Hmm..." his Captain ignored him. "There's an assault on the northern side, but we haven't received communication on whether or not we should initiate contact. How did you get through the South Gate, lady?"

I faked sorrow to soften them. I tried to cry, but I'd stopped myself for so long that I no longer could.

"A monster distracted them."

"There's demons inside of the city then. That's all there is to it."

The High Sergeant smiled at his Captain. "The perfect time for us to attack, don't you think?"

The Captain grunted. "We'd be risking a lot of innocent lives."

"There aren't any left," I said.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because if there are... death would still be a better fate."

The Sergeant tried to comfort me. He reached to put his hand on my shoulder—

"No." I said.

"Lady, don't you think you need an escort? Where were you planning on going? We have a cruise—"

"Razul."

"Captain, that's a good three or four hundred miles to the South! We can—"

"Eh,"—the Captain shrugged—"we've got a few spare GPS trackers and some supplies. Robots don't really need a lot in the way of food or water."

"Tch," the High Sergeant moved toward newer models of cruisers stationed at the back of the army. "It's why they're the perfect soldiers. No need for human bodies when cyborgs can get the job done without all the extra bitchin'."

\--

When I reflect on that encounter, I realize that a man shitting himself is probably what saved us from being taken as prisoners. Vonz displayed weakness, and so they didn't see us as a threat in the same way they did the others. I learned later that unarmed villagers would try to trick them; they'd walk right up to a battalion with suicide vests and implode themselves just to take down a few men. All for the sake of war, a pointless conflict with no beginning or end in sight.

When they'd handed me a tan duffel bag, full of supplies that we'd need for our journey, I wrote a list of new orders for the former Mulazim.

Of course, he took them too much to heart and began repeatedly bowing to the soldiers before I pushed him toward the direction of Razul. They kept their eyes on us as we continued on our way. I remember the Captain remarking, "What a strange Spuu... must've been the shock or somethin'."

The navigational system they'd given me was perfect in its design. They'd graphed out most of Gaspul using software usually capable of holding only the date of an entire territory. It was because of that system that I soon discovered how empty the wasteland was that stretched between Razul and Daluszn.

Central Gaspul was known for its relative density in comparison to other portions of the country. Among Razul, there were also three more cities of similar size and stationed in four separate quadrants at least fifty miles from each other. It was the adventure toward civilization that truly drained us.

On the way, we were subjected to intense heat spread across sand dunes that eventually gave way to an open hardpan desert. As we continued for many days and nights, the land drew onward and possessed nothing but what felt like an endless and devastating expanse. I would stop at midday and search through whatever rations with which they'd provided us.

For hydration, we'd been given several water skins—some months old and containing a foul smell. For food, we were given dried packs of nuts, fruits, and meat that was unidentifiable. The meat was most likely synthetic, as it was made to last for years within air-suffocated packaging that expanded and produced heat when filled with water.

It wasn't much, but it all sustained us. Regardless of how weary or weak I felt, I kept going.

When it became too much, I would order Vonz to sit, and then I'd write out a list of commands for my own body.

The first command was as follows:

"Heal from your infection. Remove the curse put inside you from wicked men."

The second command:

"March with everlasting strength. Do not grow tired."

And the third:

"Drink only as much as you need. Eat not to satisfy but to survive."

Vonz had become something close to a slave, and so I didn't bother with him. He didn't speak, but he never stopped shaking. Perhaps his mind itself was now long gone.

In my case, I was granted a strength from without and found myself unable to stop. I took comfort that maybe I would no longer carry the disease Cayain had put into me, and I hurried for many more days until a walled city crested a hilltop within a valley between an enclosure of mountainous ridges.

At all sides, it was accompanied by similar buildings that signaled the emergence of other settlements in close proximity.

We'd reached Razul.

Before most of the city had come into view, Vonz stopped again. I prodded him, but, this time, he wouldn't budge on his own. As I considered reaching into my bag to write out new instructions, his eyes flickered to meet mine. His jaw quivered.

Vonz spoke, "Please... allow me p-passage to my freedom, blessed harlot. Gozad has taught me a lesson in humility. I-I understand now."

"You understand nothing, clearly."

He used all his available effort to continue speaking. I enjoyed it.

I enjoyed it far much more than anyone could ever truly understand. For Vonz to be at my very feet, for me to finally be able to make him feel a shred of the indignity I'd suffered...

He started to sob.

"Please give me my freedom. Gozad has touched you; in doing so, he's opened the way for your ascension, don't you know? You could become a queen—an Ascetic who stands at His side."

I laughed at him. "Queen of what? Of filth? Your God is praised through the suffering of others. Whether or not 'He' has touched me makes no difference. I will always carry hatred for the Gozadalus."

"S-such... blasphemy."

There was fear in his eyes. My own had changed again to reveal rage. Enmeshed in it, overflowing with it, I smiled and told him, "Oh, but I'll free you, my Mulazim."

"You would show mercy?" Vonz's breathing became rapid.

"Rather, I will give you a new mission."

I started writing.

When I'd finished, I showed him the parchment.

"Go on. Take it then."

His delighted expression was promptly overcome with horror.

\--

When you receive this writing, you shall do as follows:

1. You shall march to your homeland.

2. You shall find Naqib Cayain.

3. When you find Naqib Cayain, you shall kill him.

4. And, when you've killed him, you shall choke to death on your own blood.

\--

I sent Mulazim Vonz back into the wilderness with no supplies, knowing that he wouldn't last. But... the thought of Cayain being slaughtered by a lower-ranking soldier gave me great comfort as I continued alone.

When I'd approached the gates of Razul, a series of guards patted me down before allowing me further entry. I was given access through its iron gates, and I stepped onto a long, winding dirt path which extended far beyond rows of brick houses. These dwellings were much nicer than to what I'd been accustomed; each was tan, having flat rooftops over buildings with great length. Every residence appeared to be stacked atop another as the land sloped upward until cresting just before the valley peaks.

At the peak of the city, I witnessed four-story buildings constructed with rounded corners on their respective levels and centered before glass windows peering out across the entirety of Razul.

Two rivers ran through a city populated with various hotels, football stadiums, parks formed in memorials of old gods, museums, and hotels. At its center, and above the deepest section of the river running from the southwest, stood a mausoleum in the shape of a dome and adorned with golden tiling. Only a mile away from the mausoleum was multiple government houses painted in white and a Federation Embassy decorated in white, black, and blue.

After I'd spent some time enjoying the sights Razul had to offer, including traveling troupes and swarms of hungry merchants, I located a facility designated for "Citizen Registration."

From there, I started asking about my cousins and underwent what felt like an interrogation from a government worker on that day. I can't quite remember his face, but he called his manager and kept asking for paperwork that I didn't have. I came to explain my situation to them and felt embarrassed, but they seemed to understand. They contacted Danduso and Mierdith.

They arrived hours later, after I was told to wait on a stiff, wooden chair. I couldn't look at anything else but the ground at my feet, and I didn't talk to anyone. By this time, I was starting to lose my grip and didn't realize it. I knew my vision didn't seem right anymore, that everything appeared unnaturally blurry.

People stared—I know they did. They wondered why a young girl was alone among so many strangers. When I finally did look up to see cousins I had only met once in my existence, they looked at me in horror. I think my eyes had changed again. Gone black or altered in a new way.

A bearded and portly man with a turban wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a green-eyed woman, whose dark hair was slightly shorter than mine. She'd cupped her mouth with her hands but wouldn't stop looking at me in such a way that I felt shame.

"Dear," I remember her saying, "are you all right?"

I nodded, my vision faded completely, and I passed out.

\--

Danduso and Mierdith lived in a palace far from the four cities. They'd only taken so much time due to relying on a large cruiser for their mode of travel anywhere. In Razul, the airport was the only place for those kinds of vessels to land and was generally crowded due to their concentration.

Alas, I was unable to view much of my new home. I fell into a coma.

It all felt like one short dream that pressured me to see it to its conclusion. Even though my body was being fed liquids to keep me alive, and my condition was stable, my mind had fled the world. And, in my mind, I did become a queen.

I ruled the Gozadalus, forgetting about my history with them. I controlled brigades of soldiers as we waged a war against the Dawn Federation. Gozad blessed me, Cayain bowed down before me, and High Lord Atanase feared the power I alone commanded. I wanted to rule the world, and it succumbed to my desire.

I usurped Gozad and went far beyond what any man could hope for himself. I challenged fate and took back the world. I sieged the last stronghold of humanity and laughed as we laid waste to it.

In the distance, a familiar face had come running in my direction as he tried to escape from a burning city. He called out something I didn't recognize... at first.

"Tallah!" he cried. "Tallah, help! We have to find your mother!"

My father drew closer.

An arrow pierced his back just as he was only mere feet before me.

As he plummeted toward the Earth, time slowed enough for me to watch his neck and head turn in opposition to the rest of his body. I saw his face eschew a dark grin; his features shifted to resemble Vonz smiling back at me. The head detached and hit the ground as the stump of the neck reformed into the body of a worm with human skin. It struggled to move closer until changing again to show the face of the monster I'd sent to its death at Daluszn's South Gate.

That bulging eye looked up at me. It said:

"Remember, Gozad does not forget."

\--

I awoke at seventeen years old, stiff against the sheets of a queen-sized bed with red sheets and golden embroidery. Only Danduso and Mierdith Fent were there, I thought, then I saw two figures standing behind the headboard. One of them came around, dressed in a white, cotton button-up and with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

"You see," he said while shifting his glance back and forth between me and my cousins, "I predicted it."

Danduso rushed to my side and grabbed my hand in his. He was much happier for me to be awake than I was, and his shoulders were broad enough to obscure the second stranger, who walked around the side of him and stood in the distance.

Mierdith hurried to take up my view on the right. I was more than overwhelmed with two eager faces staring at me expectantly.

"Zola!" Danduso exclaimed, "You've finally woken up! After three years, you've pulled through!"

"Uhh..." I couldn't form any words at the time. It had been too much time since I'd spoken.

"She's so beautiful..." Mierdith placed her hands against her face. Her body shook with excitement. "Oh, the years, Zola!"

"I... uh, wha..."

Danduso moved in closer. I felt his unpleasant breath blanketing my nose.

"It's a miracle—G-God has been with us this day!"

"Ah-ah," the doctor admonished them, "God and medicine. Did I not tell you she would wake up soon?"

Mierdith scowled at him. "After we gave you enough!"

She looked down. "But thank you, doctor..."

"Zola!" Danduso nudged me. "Where have you been all this time? After your father disappeared, we... we couldn't regain contact—"

"Dalu..." I tried to speak, "Daluszn."

"No." All three of them frowned.

"Zola," Danduso said, worry expressed clearly in his eyes, "you were at Daluszn? At Daluszn after—after the curse! The curse that was laid upon that city!"

"No, dear, please don't say that." Mierdith put her hand on my shoulder.

I had a flashback of Cayain, of Vonz, of Vonz's soldiers...

I screamed, then I brushed her hand off hard enough to strain a muscle, which made me groan even more afterwards.

"Tsk..." The doctor was solemn now. "If she's right, that makes her the one survivor of which I'm aware, Mr. and Mrs. Fent. What happened to Daluszn would be a terrible tragedy to endure—"

"Zola!" Mierdith urged me, "What about your parents? Did they escape?"

I shook my head, cringing from the ongoing pain. I just wanted to be left alone.

"How horrible." Danduso reached out to comfort me, saw my expression already start to change, and quickly stopped before he triggered another reaction.

"Our cousins..."

"Murdered by savages." Mierdith finished for him.

It was quiet for a time. All three of them shared in a moment of grief, but they couldn't possibly understand what I'd seen. They didn't know that I could no longer perceive color out of my eyes, but I did discover something new.

"Strange," the doctor remarked.

"Indeed." Danduso looked at the doctor and then back to me. "We didn't detect anything, Zola. Your body... it's..."

"Clean." The doctor smirked. "Whatever happened, they didn't leave you with something incurable."

"God bless her soul." Mierdith smiled. "She'll be able to make him happy yet.

Him?

Danduso leaned in again and said eagerly, "We've chosen a husband for you, Zola. Would you like to meet him?"

The other stranger stepped forward into the light.

\--

Mierdith and Danduso had arranged my marriage for me, but it was more of Danduso's idea, one which he pushed harder than anyone else.

Danduso was gambler and had inherited the palace, along with his wealth, from his deceased father. His father was the brother of one of Gaspul's Six Sultans, and he'd been generous with his wealth to the point of providing far beyond the needs of most of his family. Thus, Danduso had never truly had to work for what he'd owned.

He married Mierdith, a commercial real estate analyst for Guruh, a neighboring city of Razul. Though she'd resisted his initial attempts to get her to leave her job, Danduso was a jealous man and eventually convinced her to stop working.

The irony was that Danduso often left much later in their time together to pursue extramarital affairs with whomever he found at one of the four casinos in Central Gaspul. All it took was him waving around his money to catch the attention of most of those he sought. After some years, however, Danduso found himself in a significant amount of debt that he would ultimately be unable to cover without losing his precious palace.

When I fell into the Fents' hands, Danduso found his solution.

The Fents had cultivated a somewhat loose bond with another of the Sultan's "Lower Families," families quite wealthy but regarded as a weaker class in Central Gaspul. It consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Valancia, who had a son and daughter to their name. Their daughter, Jey, had been married off in an effort for them to climb the social ladder; in spite of their efforts in constantly maintaining their bonds with a Higher Family, the Valancias had been mostly ignored. They regretted losing their daughter to greater royalty and treaded more carefully in courting suitors for their son.

As the Fents were unable to bear children, for whatever reason, they'd adopted me as their own. I know Mierdith was overjoyed to experience raising a daughter despite my age, but Danduso just saw opportunity.

You see, Danduso had much darker wishes.

Danduso fancied Mrs. Valancia for himself. He was a vile man and wished, more than anything, for the day he could leave Mierdith for someone five years younger. In what I believe was utter stupidity, he thought that arranging a marriage between me and the Valancias' son would not only secure the Fents financial future but also allow him to get closer to another woman.

To that end, I met their son, Hugo Valancia.

He was a rather tall man. Pudgy, like his father, but unable to grow out his facial hair any farther beyond unsightly patches of stubble. Hugo had a pronounced lazy eye, and the lower part of his mouth jutted out before the rest of his features. His hair was cut into a crop top and dyed different colors depending on how he felt and often for no particular reason.

Hugo wasn't nervous when we met in the hospital, as any potential suitor would've been in his shoes. No. Instead, Hugo stared at me like I was a prized possession—like he'd owned me from the moment our eyes met. He wouldn't stop smiling in such a condescending manner; it was a smile that bespoke my lack of choice in the matter. I could hear him breathing, and it angered me. I know he said something, but I was too shocked by everything to really focus on his words. He stuttered in his excitement. I forced myself to ignore everything spoken to me for the rest of that day, and he finally left after a time.

\--

In the following months, I became the closest to Mierdith. Both of the Fents desired to know my whole story, but I couldn't convey it without seeing another terrible vision. I didn't want to talk about it, and she understood far more than Danduso could ever hope to himself.

Their palace was positioned closest to the city of Havur'd, and so Mierdith tried to teach me in accordance to that area's traditions. She bought for me what's known as a Narukd: a thickly layered, tan-and-white dress worn as part of the city's customs, and she gave me a pale veil lined with fake jewelry. The dress was intended to not only "protect a female's modesty" but was also worn during Havur'd's "Balins." Balins were a type of ball which incorporated a style of dance befitting for the wear of a Narukd as well as the male counterpart's Naru.

Needless to say, I rejected all of it.

I wouldn't wear the dress, and I wouldn't wear a veil to hide my face. I was born in a city that believed in freedom—I was free; hence, I wouldn't live in any other way. This, of course, frustrated Danduso, but Mierdith understood even though she'd purchased it all. Contrary to their wishes, I asked them for simple linen clothes and excused myself from every following Balin. I wouldn't dance for anyone, and I certainly wouldn't dance for Hugo.

When they'd gotten more comfortable, Mierdith would leave me alone more frequently to read and write. To escape from my memories, I read history books and sometimes fictional works written by Danduso's favourite author, someone under a pen name and halfway across the world.

I read and wrote adventure stories, and I kept dreaming about being a Queen—not Gozad's Queen, mind you. Thank goodness that idea faded.

Almost half a year later, after Danduso had argued with his wife about letting her pick up groceries for the palace, we sat across from each other, alone, in a large dining room. We were at opposite ends of a narrow wooden table that stretched several feet in distance and was capable of seating at least twenty guests. A butler served us broiled lamb chops garnished with fresh rosemary sprigs.

I was quiet, as usual, and Danduso chewed loudly while pondering to himself.

A few seconds passed, then he banged his elbow lightly on the table as he muttered more than said, "How are you, Zoli?" He enjoyed purposefully mispronouncing my name.

"Good." I nodded while taking a bite.

"Just 'good?' Are you not excited?"

Normally, he ate fast; this time, he put his utensils down to observe me.

"For what?"

"For what?" He sat back in his seat. "For your marriage! What else would I be talking about, Zoli?"

I didn't look at him. "I'm sure it will be a fine day."

"Of course it will! Hugo has proven himself to be a good student, Zoli—he'll be a doctor one day, don't you think? Why haven't you asked to see him, and why won't you go to the Balin this week? You've missed all of them since you've been here."

"I-I just... I don't want to go, Danduso—"

"'Father.'"

I glared at him and stated, "You are NOT my father."

I could see his anger show itself before he calmed down and sighed, "I suppose this is true, but we've raised you as our own, Zoli—"

"My name is 'Zola,' Danduso. If you truly cared, you'd call me by the name my mother gave me."

"In our dialect, 'Zola' means 'The Taker.' Is this how you wish to be referred to? The Taker?"

"It is my name, Danduso. Would you have me call you 'Dandi' or 'DandFUCK—'"

"Zoli!"

"ZOLA, Danduso!" I banged my fists on the table, sat up, and started to leave.

Danduso hurried over to me and seemed prepared to shout—as he always did to his wife—but he looked into my eyes and saw what everyone else before him had seen. It scared him.

"Why, Zola..."

"Yes?" I asked impatiently.

"Why do you bear so much hatred?"

He tried to touch me, but I moved away.

"God does not look well on hatred, Zola."

"God does not look at all."

\--

It was the day of my wedding, and I was arguing with both Fents.

"Zola!" Mierdith urged, "Why will you not wear the Narukd just this once? Not even the veil? Don't you know that it is tradition for the bride to cover her face before the initiation of the ceremony? The Valancias will not accept this! Don't you care?"

"Don't they?"

We were in a private chamber that was part of a section at the side of Havur'd's largest mosque. The groom and his family prepared themselves on the opposite end. They'd readied a proper Narukd gown, but I refused to let it adorn me. I refused to notice the details of a building they kept telling me was "extraordinary" in its design. The insides of it were just as ugly to me as the outside, for it was built to be a cage, a cage like that house... that damned house.

I kept refusing until I stopped saying anything; eventually, Mierdith went to speak in my stead while leaving me with her husband, who looked down on me in contempt. My birthday was only two months away, and I knew they'd rushed this entire ordeal to strip me of the independence to choose who I would marry.

My ability had stopped working as well; otherwise, I would've brought them all under my command. The coma had diminished my power, but I would reawaken it.

"Why do you wish to humiliate us so?" Danduso didn't hold back his anger this time.

I stood up to him.

"You've taken away any choice I could've had in this. I never agreed to marry Hugo!"

"But he has agreed to marry YOU! You have no respect for anyone aside from yourself—you think only on what benefits you!"

"You will lose everything if this marriage is not sealed, correct?"

Danduso struck me.

He didn't slap or punch me, like the others. Some of his nails were broken and sharp, and so he clawed my face and tore three gashes across it. I didn't flinch. I pressed my hand against my cheek to halt the flow of blood.

Danduso backed away in horror at what he'd done and hurriedly said, "Zoli! I-I'm sorry!"

"'Zola.' And you're not." I stared at him; I felt cold on the inside. "This is who you are."

\--

Hugo consented to allowing me to wear basic linens during the wedding. He still looked happy when I appeared and asked me about the bandages on my face. I told him that I'd tripped, and an imam read us our vows.

Upon witnessing my "blasphemy," most of those in the mosque gasped and murmured to each other. This was followed by entire groups of people walking out of the building altogether. Mrs. Valancia cried, and her husband held her in his arms while looking away from us.

I thought it was funny.

Hugo Valancia repeated the vows read to him, and I said, "Yes, sir."

The imam was taken aback, but he continued. He asked if we took each other to be husband and wife, and Hugo said, "I do."

I nodded in response.

The imam pronounced us husband and wife. Hugo stepped in to kiss me, but I held up a hand and said, "No."

Before we left the mosque together to make our way toward Hugo's newly-bought and furnished abode, I handed Danduso a piece a parchment which read...

\--

When the morning comes, your pride will cease to function.

You'll go to casinos, to Balins, to brothels for entertainment,

But your manhood will not.

Danduso will be separated from his vice,

And his vice separated from himself.

And, when you go to make love to your wife,

There will be no love to give.

All will dry up forever more.

\--

"Zola Valancia, can I take you on this night?" Hugo asked me after the wedding and while we were in "our" new home.

"No," I replied.

I wasn't sure if he would respect my wishes, but I knew enough not to cower. I did not want him inside of me.

Hugo showed no emotion that I could make out. "Can I not touch you at all?"

"I'd rather you not."

"Hmm..." He contemplated everything that had preceded this moment. "May I ask you something then?"

"Sure, Hugo."

"Did you want this?"

Acting as an unfaithful wife carried potential legal consequences in this part of Gaspul, as it had not yet been completely modernized by the Federation's influence.

Still, I said, "No."

"I see." He rubbed his chin and sighed, "You were sold to me then?"

"It looks that way."

"Where did you come from, Zola? How are you related to the Fents?"

I couldn't meet his eyes. "From Daluszn."

"No."—he drew closer—"That place? The city that was molested by the Gozadalus?"

"Yes..."

He saw that I was unwilling to confide in him very much and so resigned to his former demeanor, which I found disturbing in its calmness. Hugo Valancia was an inherently shrewd man and as callous as his father.

Hugo sneered. He said, "They made you one of them."

"One of them?"

"A savage. But I can restore you."

\--

Hugo didn't touch me for many days afterwards, but I recognized the way he looked at me. Like the Fents, he was generous enough to allow me to do nothing but write. I followed my same old habits: writing about my dreams of what would consist of a happy life. Hugo would speak to me sometimes, but I ignored anything he said.

I couldn't eat anymore. We slept in the same bed, and I stayed as far to the side of him as I could. I'd wake up drenched in sweat before I'd be compelled to write again. I had so many journals, all of which I might've turned into a book if I'd so wished. It was my only consolation.

Even this, he would try to take away from me.

It was in the afternoon when I'd returned from a walk in the city of Havur'd. Hugo's personal palace was much larger than Fent's and full of more geometric tapestries than furniture. The palace was among a small neighborhood on the outskirts of the glass-domed city; on a tall escarpment, I'd admired the city while writing a different story for myself. I'd alternated between journals to begin again, to remake my own history, though doing so was futile and maybe even childish.

I realized that it was my birthday on the way back to my new home. Yet, no one had bothered to remember aside from myself. Hugo and the Fents didn't care or keep track—in fact, all that mattered was that I'd been married and had secured Danduso's entry into a higher echelon of which he'd never be worthy.

When I'd made it to our shared chamber, I encountered Hugo, his broad back turned to me and facing the flames from a chimney he'd never used until that day.

I heard ripping noises as my husband carefully moved individual pieces into the fire. My journals were at his feet—the ones which hadn't been burned already, I mean. I knew what was happening.

I tried to calm myself, but my rage was spilling over once more. I wanted to punish him, and so—instead of screaming or striking the bastard—I wrote one sentence, tore the page from its binding, and gripped it tightly in the hand that bared a scar from its past impalement.

Hugo heard me and turned his head. At the side of his right foot, there was a bottle of arak.

He laughed and breathed in through his nostrils before exhaling, "I thought I'd rid you of the dark thoughts, my Zola. 'Mrs. Valancia' sounds good, don't you think?"

I fought to contain myself. Though I'd bathed in my anger, I resigned myself to saying nothing at all.

Hugo stood up and faced the chimney again. He remarked, "You must not think so. Don't you understand what a good man I've been? I've been more patient than God Himself."

"..."

"Can you say nothing? Does your mouth follow the same philosophy as your body? Is this why you can't bear to please your husband in the same way that he's pleased you?"

"You've burned my writing."

Hugo smashed the bottle against the wall. He scowled at me with wild eyes. Hugo clenched his fists; a line of blood drew from a cut in his neck produced from one of the shards of glass, and he bellowed, "I burned your blasphemy, Zola!"

I looked down and thought that maybe he'd come to his senses.

Hugo took a step forward. "I read what you wrote—I read ALL of it!" His expression became puzzled as his eyes darted back and forth in thought.

"You hate everything. You hate God, you hate our customs, you... you hate me, and I am your husband."

"Not by choice."

"What did you say?"

Hugo walked toward me now, but I backed away from him. He continued, yelling again, "What did you say, Zola?"

When I didn't respond, Hugo backhanded me.

"Bastard..." I said and shielded my face, but he grabbed me by the neck and slammed my head against the wall.

When I cried out, Hugo staggered back a few steps. He looked at his own hands in surprise. When his eyes returned to stare directly into mine, he started to cry out of agitation.

"Women in this country don't fully understand the wisdom of God, Zola. I'm sorry I hit you."

"No. You're not!" I shouted at him. "None of you are sorry! If God's wisdom is as you say, then how come you can't control yourself, Hugo?"

"I can contr—!"

"Does your God condone you hitting women, too?"

"Our God, Zola—"

"No."

I'd never met God; I'd only met the servants of one such being, Gozad, and they weren't so kind or compassionate.

Hugo gritted his teeth. "It is true that you write blasphemies against Him, Zola. Do you believe yourself higher?"

"That's not it," I said. "I believe I deserve better."

Hugo stood, his face right above mine, and he peered down in disgust. "I am the best you shall ever have. I am your husband, Zola. I LEAD this household. Without me, you are nothing."

"You're pathetic."

Hugo punched me.

He struck me hard enough to knock loose one of my teeth, burst open my lip, and cause blood to flow freely from my mouth as I sunk to the ground and sobbed to keep back the tide of my anger. What I'd written was still in my hands, and I allowed my blood to soak through it.

"Fool!" Hugo uttered.

He yanked me up by my hair. "I will take you as my wife—here and now!"

Hugo pushed me onto our shared bed. He tried to force my body to bend over. "This is as it should be, Zola."

I fought against him, but Hugo was too strong. He was much greater in stature, and so the vile man punched the side of my ribcage before he tore at the belt around my waist.

"Hugo!" I screamed. "Stop! STOP NOW!"

The note in my hand wrinkled; Hugo heard it.

"What's this?"

He tried to take it from me.

I let him.

\--

Hugo's heart explodes.

\--

"What... Zola!"

I evaded him as he reached forward and collapsed on top of the bed while his body began to shake. Hugo turned, grasping his chest with one arm and extending his hand toward me with the other!

He stared at me in horror but couldn't speak aside from groans as his body hit the ground. Hugo grew pale. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

When he'd looked upon me again, I moved to crouch with my face only a few inches from his. In his eyes, I saw myself smile. It was a beautiful smile. In his execution, I became magnificent.

With the last of his available effort, Hugo opened his mouth to gag on his own blood as he struggled to say, one more time, "Z-z...ola."

Yes. I, Zola, killed you.

\--

I ran.

From Hugo's corpse, from the palace, and from Havur'd.

I ran from a life that I'd just begun to establish, and...

I was happy.

I fled East of Central Gaspul. I continued to write so as to strengthen my body during the journey. I didn't let myself sleep until I could no longer see those four cities brimming the horizon. Afterwards, I slept for two days, it seemed, and then I was on my way after locating a traveling caravan moving toward another settlement far from that place and its horrible customs. I told the traders in charge that I was a healer; I proved this by curing one of them of the sores on his feet incurred from wearing boots not intended for travel.

At this time, my power had fully Awakened.

For good measure, in the years that followed, I would keep cutting myself to ensure that my lifeblood would seal whatever I wanted done. However, there was one last encounter that would change my life in the way I'd always wanted.

The traders arrived at their home village, which was the smallest community of which I'd ever been a part since growing up in my home city. It was a poor town placed a good three hundred miles before the great looming shape of the Citadel. This settlement was populated with many hovels smothered in poorly-arranged straw. Its dirt roads were littered with farm animals, small stone wells, and a firepit outside of nearly every house.

One of the traders was a man referred to as "Hunch" by his friends and in reference to the overly-rounded curvature of his spine. He was humble, considerate, and Hunch allowed me to stay with his husband and two adopted kids as long as I treated those in the village without charging for my services.

\--

One year later, a visitor came to my new home, someone they all recognized. After helping my family prepare a stew brewed with potatoes and chunks of goat, Hunch approached me with excitement clear in his eyes.

"He's here!" he said, "Back again!"

"Who?" My mind was wandering to thoughts of another story I'd been working on every night.

"Why, the medic! The, eh, the one who makes pretty things! The children love him!"

\--

There was a man standing in the center of the village. He'd set a series of stones around him in an oval and propped up three easels with blank canvases as families gathered around him to watch. He didn't use a paintbrush...

"Draw a soldier, Mr. Painter!" a kid shouted.

He bowed then pivoted to face the easel on his left. Quickly, he flicked his wrist a few inches from it to make a faint, dark outline appear. Gasps echoed around him, and his speed increased. The painter moved one hand with articulate gestures and produced an even more definable shape before backing away to reveal...

A donkey.

His audience laughed. He bowed again, this time with the serious demeanor of a composer.

"Draw me."

The village mayor stepped forward and presented himself in a prideful stance.

"So be it," the painter replied and shrugged. He moved to the right and took a few seconds before there emerged on the canvas:

An obese caricature struggling to get to his feet and squirming on the ground. A chorus of laughter followed. The mayor blushed in embarrassed.

"It's a lie," he shouted.

"Show us the President!" a woman insisted.

The painter stopped momentarily and kept himself from glaring at her. He was more serious; he spent a longer amount of time and used both hands to illustrate something I didn't expect. The painter worked furiously and with his back turned to us. His body reddened while in deep concentration; the crowd went silent.

When the painter stepped back, with his hair in disarray and sweat beading on his brow, everyone stared in fascination...

A skull. One intricate and revealing a multitude of cracks which spilled what appeared to be disembodied souls represented with faces full of despair. In the background, the painter had shown us the view of dark skies over a field of vibrant cherry blossoms. Some of them were blood-stained.

His audience was awestruck. The painter was growing nervous, afraid that he'd repulsed them.

Finally, someone spoke above the silence:

"I hate politicians, too!"

They burst into a round of applause.

\--

I followed him because I saw something they didn't.

His easels had been deconstructed and placed in a white sack he'd tied onto a mule. He ran his hand along the beast's mane and then sat cross-legged before a stream.

I sat down beside him.

I saw what was coming from his hands, and he looked at me with... fear? Fear, possibly, as no one else could see them.

Black, spiked spindles extended from every digit but his thumbs; they were highlighted by darks specks which emanated from their source and dissolved in the air around us.

When we made eye contact, he knew what was in my eyes, and... he smiled. We were both the children of a grand ascension, and we knew it upon meeting for the first time.

"Hello. Who are you?" he asked.

"Zola. Zola Bali." I'd taken back my family's surname to remember them.

"That's so..."

"What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and smirked.

"Tell me."

When the painter glanced back, the red shone clear in his eyes. I'd never seen irises that looked that way.

He said, "Beautiful. It's a beautiful name."

"Thank you," I replied, then I asked, "And yours?"

"Amour."

He stared out over the water.

"What brings you here, Amour?"

His expression was downcast. In a way, I thought him humble despite his talent.

He said, "I'm passing through, to head to the Citadel."

"Why?"

"I'm starting a business."

"By yourself?"

"Indeed," he said. "I'll carry it all on my back and see it through to its success. I wish to be the most famous painter in the world."

I laughed at him.

"The whole world, eh? Even in the cursed places?"

"There are none to me."

"Is that so?"

I liked his resolve. I liked, even more, that he didn't force his vision on me in the manner others had before him.

"Wherever I go, they'll repeat that there's no one greater. I've decided to pursue success regardless of the costs. What about you?"

Amour was almost as slender as I was. He didn't have any incredibly masculine features, but his face was sharp in spite of it having been partially paralyzed. At that time, his hair was longer than my own and well taken care of for someone with his nomadic lifestyle. His lips were full, set between a thin but well-defined and symmetrical jaw. The dark protrusions from his hands began to fade as we looked into each other's eyes, scarlet studying black and white and vice versa.

I told him, "I no longer have any history. My family has passed, and anyone else proved to be a monster."

"There are a lot of monsters in this world."

At that, I took his small hand in mine and looked ahead. I'd been lonely, and his response was more than agreeable to me.

"What will you do now, Zola Bali?"

"I don't know..." I dangled my legs over the edge. "I'm beginning again."

"As am I."

"And what will you do when you meet your goal, Amour?"

He was quiet for a time, pondering to himself.

Then, he spoke, "I'll make the world Beautiful."

"Beautiful? How?"

"Well," he said, "I suppose you could say my paintings are missing something—a human element. The time has come for me to create True Art, Zola. I believe that I've been called to do so."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't have to."

I glanced at him and smiled. "But I want to."

Amor shrugged.

He exhaled, "What I'm about to do isn't going to be an easy task.

"I will, most likely, suffer for creation... but I will do it. Zola,"—he turned to me—"I will purify the world of what is hideous.

"I will demolish the Ugly, and I will remake it in the image of Beauty. Earth longs for a New Creator. I can bestow life upon it again. However..."

His expression went dark as he peered at the ground beside me.

"There will be no way out for them."

"'Them?'"

"The Repugnant Filth of Man. As I said, the world will be made Beautiful. Complete."

I leaned in and kissed him. Amour backed away in shock. I grinned, saying to him, "If you let me help you create, the world will become 'Beautiful.'"

I would be a Queen, as I'd always wanted, and claim my throne atop the corpses of those who stood against me.
4

The Democratic Council

\--

Janelle

\--

AT THE VERY HEIGHT OF THE CITADEL, the spherical city-nation shrunk gradually and rounded into a glass dome littered with small pockets to allow the collection of rain. This dome filtered sunlight through five layers of thick glass, refracting its rays across the entirety of the construct. Each end, at all sides and at every level of the city, opened to the world outside and allowed fresh air entry into the Citadel.

In the Upper-City, which was divided into the Blue and White Sectors, the air that passed through was captured and regulated by a system intended to monitor and adjust the overall temperatures experienced by the wealthiest class. The Upper-City was the smallest part of the Citadel:

The White Sector was composed of government buildings, such as the Dawn Knight Embassy; the Blue Sector was populated, in part, by the city's richer neighborhoods and contained the headquarters of major corporations, including Dar-Tech.

The streets and walkways were built with the fusion of metals known as Moa and Fuzendite, which granted the combined result of a luminescent surface. As such, there was little need for light when the ground itself radiated quite brightly. In the Blue Sector, Moa and Fuzendite blocks were encased in glass that caused them to shine azure; in the White, they shone white.

As the Upper-City was small, modern architects had redesigned this particular area multiple times in order to adjust to a growing population. Rather than plan out all construction across a flattened surface, the Federation government had sanctioned builders to create isolated platforms to support additional dwellings while saving space for future construction.

At the center of the bottom layer of the Upper-City, there began a series of stone steps that formed a grand staircase which terminated on higher levels before ascending again. This staircase peaked at the foremost government building, colloquially referred to as the Isolakandi Temple, and its steps were called the "Superior Path."

The Isolakandi Temple had been built in the image of one of the castles from a time before modernization. It was a three-stories tall, with many hip-and-gabled roofs, and supported a tenshu that reached above all else in the Citadel and was encircled by stained glass.

Across the glass, there were depictions of famous battles waged for the survival of the Dawn Federation in its earlier years: Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi's duel against the Kasakai's Haem; the invasion of the Xate; Warlord Derek's final victory, and so forth.

The Temple was a network of forty buildings which served a variety of functions. It was replete with bathhouses, dining areas, libraries, and an area of worship for Avva the Saint.

To the East of the Isolakandi Temple, a metal pathway ended on a lone platform extending out of the Citadel itself and overlooking the World Below.

On this platform, there stood the House of the President, which was the only other structure designed with a hip-and-gabled roof within the Mid and Upper-Cities. Formerly known as the "House of the Supreme Leader," President Derek had altered its title in order to sate the concerns of his government: The Democratic Council.

The House of the President was one of the last remnants of a time wherein warlords fought for total control of the city-nation while simultaneously honoring the authority of a centralized Shogun. Long ago, the appointed Shoguns lived in this specific house and constantly rebuilt it as technology advanced in the country. Derek abolished the need for a Shogun after taking control; decades later, he lived on to discover that his own authority would be abolished by the Council.

Exactly a week after the terrorist bombing on Dar-Tech, subsequent to the assassination of two Bureau operatives, the Democratic Council called for a meeting to discuss a new revelation.

\--

At the top of the tenshu, the Council gathered in a large, oval chamber devoid of seating, empty except for polished, golden tiles. When convening in the Council Chamber, members of the government brought personal mats to sit upon and organized themselves into their respective Wings of Government.

Of the Wings, there were four in total.

The White Wing: headed by four Staff Commanders. There was an Intelligence Staff Commander, an Infantry Staff Commander, a Communications Staff Commander, and a Medical Staff Commander. They seated themselves behind the President in a row and with their heads bowed, loyal members of the Enrec Division.

The Blue Wing: the branch of government supplied with all Lower-City Majors, Mid-City Executives, and the Two Secretaries of the Upper-City. They were seated directly in front and a dozen feet before President Derek and labeled as the "Executive Division."

The Black Wing: containing all presiding Zone Judges. Their place was to their President's right—also known as the "Legislative Division."

Lastly, the Grey Wing: a branch formed only a decade ago and symbolizing the Dawn Federation's preferred tool of justice, the Dawn Bureau. Left divisionless and seated behind the Blue Wing, the Bureau itself was overseen by only one, who sent a representative in his place during mandatory Council meetings that were usually designated twice a year.

This time, however, the Dawn Federation had called for an additional meeting.

According to tradition, the President sat cross-legged, in the center of the masses, and kept his eyes closed while appearing to rest in deep meditation. In front of him, there was laid a large, double-headed hammer. A foot behind him, the warlord's old, moa-plated armor hung on a stand and below a horned kabuto with the face of a monkey formed out of clay.

It was once considered disrespectful to speak while the wait commenced for the Sun to climax at noon, which signaled the initiation of the Democratic Council. Nevertheless, with the change in times, so, too, did every Wing but the White transgress against rules established over a decade ago.

As the Staff Commanders waited in silence out of respect, the Blue Wing representatives murmured amongst themselves. Their whispers were loud, heard by the President, but he didn't react; rather, he remained stoic while carried away in thoughts far removed from the Council.

The front of his grey hair was cut into a high fade, but he'd allowed the back to grow out until braiding it into a tight ponytail. Derek, known for being clean-shaven when giving his rare speeches, had let his stubble grow out to appear loose and uneven. His dark eyes rested behind heavy eyelids accompanied by deep wrinkles on both sides. He was a tall man, but his muscular frame had diminished over time to make him seem leaner, perhaps somewhat sickly in appearance.

Two Executives gossiped to each other before a third joined in, "Haven't you heard? It's his last year in office."

"But I thought he had some time left—I didn't really believe he'd give up his seat... not without a fight."

"I hear he never wanted the job. Did you know he used to go by 'Dereikaund?'"

"What?" a fourth Executive leaned in to hear more.

"Yep. Changed his name, made it simpler—easier to pronounce for the people. I guess 'Supreme Leader Dereikaund' would've been too long-winded."

"They say his age is taking his mind."

"Oh yeah?"

"He can't remember his own statutes—can't even lead anyone as he is now. Derek's just a fragment of whatever he once was."

"Settle down, kid, he was taking down entire armies before you were even born."

"That's still no excuse for being clueless about his own people. Remember that the Prison still hangs. It's a barbaric idea that should be abolished."

"And where would you put all of its inmates?"

On the far right of the Executives facing Derek, there sat Executive Mosley of Zone F. He was seated on a blue mat and was right in front of Major Kohaku, Kohaku himself being nearly as old as the President now.

Major Kohaku tapped Mosley on his shoulder. "Are you just going to ignore me?"

"I do try my best."

"Tch. Now, now," Kohaku snickered, "that's no way to treat an old friend."

Mosley looked back and smiled. "Who's to say we were ever friends?"

"Me."

Mosley's greying hair was cut short; aside from a mild overbite, he looked rather plain in appearance. Despite the wart on one side of his face having reddened from flared eczema, he commanded a certain respect that caused those around him to pay extra attention.

He bowed his head to Kohaku.

"The world is changing again."

"I think you mean your world."

"Nonsense, for as one servant ascends another arrives in his place."

"You were never a good servant, Mosley."

"And you were never a good Major."

Kohaku, whose faded ginger hair was mostly tied into a ponytail sitting atop his head, rolled his eyes back in a face obscured by a beard he'd not touched or groomed properly since he was an adolescent.

He said, "Not a good Major, huh? The way I operate isn't according to Federation standards, but..."

"But what?" Mosley stared at him with amazement fueled by a condescension of which he'd grown unaware.

"I'm a man after the President's own heart, Executive. The Last Shogun."

"Psh..." Mosley started to chuckle but was promptly shushed by another next to him. He lowered his tone, "The time of Shoguns is over."

"Perhaps. The Democratic Council will rule the Citadel. Word is that we'll have no more kings or queens to dictate our future."

"As it should be."

Kohaku smirked, contempt showing clearly in his eyes. "Do you believe they'll make you the Council Pontiff then?"

"That's the rumor, is it not? Why, do you want to be an Executive—is this your way of asking me?"

"Absolutely not." Kohaku leaned his body away. "I do not give away my freedoms so easily."

"They'll be taken." Mosley's gaze turned dark. "The barbarian will relinquish his seat to the Council, and, after the rise of the Pontiff, we'll clean up the Lower-City."

"You will try, you mean."

"We are the government, Major Kohaku. We do as we see fit to provide for the people."

"And that's why the President gave his Majors full control, with the Wings of the Federation failing to object?"

"He's lost his mind to old age and is no longer capable of leading the way he once was."

"Do you really think you can clean up the problems that have overtaken this country?"

Mosley snorted. "The Pontiff will change the world, Major."

Derek stood to his feet and with his hammer resting in both hands. The movement was so rapid that it drew the attention of all in attendance as they looked on in silence.

The President channeled his voice to resonate around the room with the stalwart power of commander:

"WHAT GRANTETH US LIGHT?"

All stood and shouted in response:

"THE SUN!"

"Ieaqim (a saying borrowed from a century ago, meaning "Indeed"). SAY YE, RETAINERS: WHAT RIPENS THE SOUL?"

"SIDOGUSH! THE CODE AND THE WAY OF THE HIGHEST!"

"MY SOLDIERS, SPEAK UNTO ME AND I WILL DO AS ASKED."

The President turned, hefting his hammer above his head—

"WHAT DELIVERS THE SIDOGUSH?"

"TRUTH BESTOWED THROUGH POWER!"

Derek smashed the helmet with great effort: the chamber resonated with an ancient tradition used by the warriors of a lost age.

As fragments of clay exploded outward from the destroyed kabuto, Derek held his weapon to his right side and with one arm before allowing it to collapse upon the ground. He then faced the congregation of the Blue Wing once more and sat in his original position as all stood before him.

"Ieaquim," he said, "I am the President, a leader of those who seek shelter, those who seek unity, and those who seek triumph.

"Forsooth, I am he who may guide the lost and shepherd them in the Way of Sidogush: the path of the warrior. When Time calls, I am there to do its bidding. When my presence is demanded, I am everywhere to bestow it.

"Brothers and sisters of the Dawn Federation, may the Democratic Council commence in truth and in honor of those who came before. Remember them as you are called to speak; do not waver in the face of judgement, for, on this day, the needs of the people take precedence. What say ye to this?"

"IEAQUIM."

Derek relaxed, then he sighed, breaking character as he said, "Let's get on with it."

Everyone took their seats anew and waited while experiencing mild trepidation. A young scribe hurried over to the President, bowed, and took his place on Derek's left. An old man with a white mask strided over to sit down at his right; he held a list up and studied it before calling out:

"Zone A. Executive Lauren!"

A middle-aged woman, thin in appearance and dressed in a grey blazer complemented with a black tie, walked toward Derek.

"Hurry now," he said, and she increased her pace before patting herself down and groaning with effort as she sat directly across from the President.

Mosley muttered under his breath, "An archaic practice."

"Really?" Kohaku mused, "I rather like the humbleness of it. It's simplistic."

"Of course, you would enjoy such a base tradition."

Derek looked into her eyes and inquired with a blank expression: "Are you nervous?"

Executive Lauren smiled at him. She shook her head.

Derek smiled back and looked to his nervous scribe as he said, "I actually like this one. The others..."—he peered out over the Blue Wing—"Ieaquim."

A short period of silence followed, then the President spoke again:

"Give your report, Executive."

"Yes Sir!" Lauren nodded resolutely, searched through her memory, and then spoke in a more deliberate manner—

"My President: Zone A operates at a surplus of approximately five hundred CA's (Collective Acquisitions).

"In District One, there was a sewage leak having recently been fixed with the costs supported by my cabinet. In District Four, we handled illegal inflation of all consumer products in that area and indicted those responsible before our CA's could be affected.

"District Five, on the other hand, experienced a cyber security breach resulting in the loss of Zone A's Supermarket's (a digital as well as a physical grocery store) record of profits along with the identities of its associates. For that,"—she glanced at the scribe and then back at Derek—"we require a greater number of cyber security professionals who can prevent this from occurring again."

"I see." Derek pursed his lips. "And where does Zone A fall on the Adjudication Scale?"

Lauren grinned. "We're in the White, President."

The chamber erupted in conversation; between White, Blue, and Black, next to no Executive maintained the status of White, defined as either little to no crime or offenders caught at a rate of above ninety percent.

The President raised an eyebrow before addressing his orator, "Do those stats match your reports?"

"Ieaquim." The orator bowed and looked nearly as impressed as Derek.

"Continue," the President urged.

"My President, Zone A has implemented new legislation—four statutes—and repealed one. We've..."

This ritual continued for some time, with Executive Lauren focusing on every detail that went into governing one of the Zones of the Citadel.

The Secretaries were responsible for their Sectors, the Executives, and all Zones; the Executives managed the financial and civil realities of their Zones; and the Majors, who were given the most relaxed treatment, simply reported on whether or not their CA's met the specific threshold set for that year.

At the end of her report, Derek thought to himself for a moment and then said to her, "How do you feel about what happened?"

"Excuse me, Sir?"

The President exhaled through his nose and stared at the ground before her.

He said, "How did Frederick Nuvogorad's death affect you? I know that it was recent and thus doesn't apply to your rate in this session, but I'd like to know how that made you feel, Executive."

Lauren was quiet. An emptiness came over her, and she replied, "I'm ashamed."

"She's... self-effacing," Kohaku remarked. "Incredible."

"Be silent!" Mosley scowled at him.

President Derek nodded but didn't meet her gaze. "Why 'ashamed?'"

"Because, Sir..." Lauren swallowed. "He perished in my Zone, and I couldn't save him. It was my basic duty to make sure the perpetrator was brought to justice, and..."

"And? You may speak freely, as we've all failed once before."

Mosley thought, He speaks so kindly, yet he sanctioned the building of the Citadel Prison. Derek has always been a savage, but this age doesn't call for savages.

Lauren found it within her to admit: "I have to do better for the sake of my people. I can't allow unrepentant murderers to run amok and call myself an efficient Executive."

"You are an efficient Executive." Derek responded confidently, "And you are dismissed."

Upon the conclusion of Lauren's interview, the Executive bowed and then moved to escape the glares of those from the Blue Wing; they were often a jealous group. In comparison to all but Mosley, who possessed seniority while maintaining a respectable average, Lauren had performed quite well.

The orator called: "ZONE B. Executive Petrus!"

\--

Executive Petrus

\--

M-my name. My name. It is here—it is. It's my name! Here, in this p-place... Why am I...? I'm real, aren't I? What's going on? I can't stop shaking—I can't... stop.

"Silence. I will guide you in this, Petrus. Allow me full ownership. Today, you excel."

\--

Janelle

\--

Executive Petrus, pale and rigid, walked stiffly toward the President as all eyes were laid upon him. Before he'd been called, Petrus sweated through his undershirt. Nonetheless, as his time grew nearer, a demon took total possession of his faculties. The color from his skin faded. His eyes turned mostly black while hanging above dark shadows and a slight smile as he sat across from the President.

Derek eyed him with an expression that conveyed more than mere suspicion. There was conviction inherent in the way that he stared at Petrus, and he sneered as his subordinate took his place.

"Tch. Did you bother to shower this morning, Executive?"

The audience gasped; a handful chuckled in amusement.

The demon easily kept its composure, then it cracked a smile and bowed its head.

"I'm afraid I've been working tirelessly to obtain peace in my Zone."

"So you say." Derek looked to both his orator and scribe. "Yet, Zone B has been in complete chaos since the beginning of this year. Your crime has gotten out of hand, Petrus, and those traffickers are still quite fresh in my memory."

"What, exactly, are you accusing me of, my President?"

"Negligence. Incompetence."

"And you expect me to bear the full weight of your accusations after I was framed by Tomas Gostra?"

"That matter remains under investigation for the time being."

Petrus became more aggressive; he drew everyone's interest at once:

"That matter was resolved when Gostra confessed his guilt. Why would you accuse me of something that he has done?"

"Why did you take so long to renovate an entire district, Executive?"

Petrus leaned forward. "Do you not remember the schemes of more than one Vice Executive as well as Gostra's extensive planning? After all, I was the first to openly allow immigrants in my Zone—who else in this room can attest to showing such mercy?"

"You would dare to indicate you honor above all others?" Derek, angered by his subject's insolence, raised his voice, "Do you claim superiority? Are you a fucking fool?"

Those present gasped again. Executive Mosley whispered to himself, "Unprofessional. Cursing at his own servants."

Petrus didn't react.

"My circumstances have been dire, but I've had the strength to pull through it."

"What bloody nonsense. How dare you compare yourself to anyone here! If not for the Democratic Council, I would have you removed from your position and replaced with someone who has some fucking substance," Derek screamed abruptly and stood.

"Do you comprehend my words?"

Petrus offered him only a slow nod. "Yes, my President. I understand you completely."

"Good." Derek crossed his arms and looked away. "Then get the hell away from me."

"You do not require a report?"

"I HAVE a report, Petrus,"—he indicated his orator—"and I trust his word far more than I do your own."

"Very well." Petrus got up and bowed before calmly moving back to his original seat.

Both Lauren and the Executive from Zone C, Rulius, attempted to comfort him. Lauren said, "Don't worry. This'll pass over, Joel. At least the Council knows you're not guilty."

The demon relinquished its control.

Left in place, Petrus started to break out into another cold sweat. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

"It's... it's okay," he said and garnered even more sympathy from everyone around him.

"That took some courage," Kohaku said.

"Indeed." At last, Mosley agreed with him on something.

\--

The Democratic Council continued for another hour, then President Derek concluded his interviews with an evaluation of Secretaries Deandra and Lovan. Because this was his last year before the Council would take full control of the government themselves, he'd softened in his judgments, and, to everyone's surprise, Derek complimented his Secretaries. When the Blue Wing had been fully examined, the President dismissed them and called forth the Black Wing.

Judges from each Zone took their places before him at a distance, and Derek examined them all at once on every legislative detail. He considered crime rates for the dozenth time, decisions made by them in more sensitive cases, inner-city laws they'd approved, and evaluated any complaints made against their names. As a result, Judge Rezark Farlomew from Zone B was placed on probation—mostly due to Derek's dislike of Petrus.

The President dismissed them, and they bowed before filing out in a more structured rank. Derek called the White Wing to his attention, and they marched around to his front, turned to face him in sync, and took their seats at a closer distance.

It was at this time that Executive Petrus, compelled by the demon who inhabited him, sneaked back into the short antechamber leading into the Council so that he could listen in on the following conversation:

Derek said to them, "In order now, Medical Staff, Communications, Infantry, and Intel—go."

The Commander of Enrec's Medical Corps appeared nervous at first and stuttered as he began, "P-President, our testing hasn't necessarily proved as conclusive as we might have hoped in the beginning."

Derek kept his eyes focused ahead and responded with one word: "Explain."

"Well, the attack on the plant owned by Dar-Tech was tragic, but that plant also exposed human flaws—we had believed that the knowledge gained from our research would help our soldiers progress to the next level.

"In short, we planned to modify the treatments issued to the Dawn Knights so that we could locate how the God Mark originates—whether it's a type of microbacteria, abnormal differentiation in cell division, or..."

"Or what? Speak with courage." Derek smiled. "You are not an Executive on trial."

"Yes, Sir!" the Staff Commander proceeded, "It seems to be triggered in moments of extreme emotional distress, d-distress enough for that particular individual, because not everyone who experiences misery is being affected."

"Is it growing?"

"Uh, yes and no. The God Mark, thus far, has not been traceable.

"The Dawn Knights are confident that they understand the Mark, but we've only given them altered steroids we've tested to ensure their bodies won't decay from the side effects. Few in the Citadel display what could be considered a real manifestation, and we haven't been able to identify its causes in anyone we've analyzed."

"This is... problematic." Derek sighed and then chuckled, "But it won't be once I retire."

The Staff Commanders faked laughter, and the President silenced them with a scowl. "Very well. Is that the end of your report—and did you get all that, scribe?"

"Yes, Sir!"

He nodded and looked to his head of Communications, "What utter headache do you wish to give me, Officer?"

"Sir!" This Staff Commander was much more serious and composed in his thoughts. "We've news on multiple fronts, and I'm sorry to insist that the Federation will need to react with haste."

"Oh?" Derek scratched his chin as he said, "Has something happened you know about that hundreds of news outlets in the Citadel do not?"

"I believe so," he responded gravely. "It's about Alandra."

"Speak."

"They've ceased further communication with us, Sir. They sent back our envoys and rejected again our offer of establishing a joint embassy between the two of us—they refuse to be associated with the Dawn Federation."

How curious...

"For decades," Derek began, "our neighbor has despised either me or the Federation as an entity. I don't understand if it's because we're in the sky and they wish to be, or if they're just as starved for territory as we are. After all, the Citadel is better protected when surrounded by allies rather than blatant enemies. And of Gaspul?"

"They're prepping for a much greater attack."

Although the President maintained a calm attitude, his officer was more and more frantic as he spoke, "The Gozadalus have gotten ambitious—"

"Do they wish to take Ruzumbhad again?"

"They've circumvented Ruzumbhad and approach the Four Cities in Central Gaspul!"

"What? Have they truly lost themselves to that strange god after all?"

"My President, this enemy operates without any sort of predictability—and many of them bear the God Mark."

"Which is why we must take the fight to them if we wish to see progress."

Derek's expression hardened.

"I grow tired of those senseless bastards, but I've been considering a new course of action to dispose of them. We will discuss this at the White Wing Brief I've scheduled four days from now—or sooner, if they happen to arrive within a more threatening distance."

"Yes, Sir!"

Derek shook his head and muttered, "The stupidity of these people astounds me, men. Were I to meet them on the field of battle, I would demand a game of chess to assess whether they were truly capable of following any conceivably intelligent strategies. Ieaquim..."—his eyes flickered to the next speaker—"Infantry."

"Sir!" the Infantry Staff Commander boomed with a strong and confident voice, "We've reclaimed land from multiple settlements in close proximity to the Four Cities and continue to even our spread of forces closer toward Alandra."

"And you're building toward the Gozadalus as well, correct?"

"Erm, yes... but our sole concentration has been on establishing defensible forward bases of operations in order to counter possible missile strikes that could be ordered by the enemy—"

"They won't order a missile strike," Derek said, "that would be more idiotic than anything the Gozadalus might choose to do. Focus your efforts on an even balance of cybernetic troops and mechanized infantry so that we may establish a wall of defense around the people."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Have we taken any significant losses in our efforts?"

"No, Sir. The cyber troops have been more than effective in dealing with insurgencies."

"Very good." Derek nodded and then addressed the last member of the White Wing:

"Intel. Speak."

The Intelligence Staff Commander seemed much more solemn than the rest and didn't say anything right away.

"Is there a problem?"

Everyone still in the room turned to stare at the officer. He exhaled deeply and said, "Frederick's dead."

"I know." Derek replied, "But what does that have to do with your report?"

"It's left a vacancy in a much-needed seat, Sir, and we don't have officers at our disposal with the same level of knowledge he possessed on advanced defense systems."

"Train someone new, but I need your report..."

The Commander's head sank. "The Gaspul Native Party has gone mostly underground and seems to be establishing contact with the enemy—"

"Which enemy?"

"The Gozadalus."

"Goddammit." Derek clenched his fists. "Why would anyone think to join them?"

"We're unsure to the extent, Sir, but our signals intelligence team has uncovered what we think are resources being given over to the Gozadalus by the Party.

"Radio intel has picked up conversations between their respective organizations' leaders. Not only that, but any larger insurgency forces are moving East and Northeast of Central Gaspul to join with the greater enemy—"

"And South? Toward Alandra?"

"As far as we know, Sir, most Gaspulan natives share a hatred of Alandra."

"Good." Derek breathed in and exhaled calmly. "You've brought a considerable problem to my attention. While I do not believe the Citadel itself is in immediate danger, the situation being created by enemies from both sides is not a pleasant one.

"I mostly trust the judgment of the Democratic Council, but whether or not they can handle a conflict of this scale remains to be seen."

"We'll need your guidance, Sir!" the Infantry Commander retorted.

"And yet, for the rest of your lives, you will no longer have it.

"The age of Shoguns has passed, and my people have grown so that they may lead themselves into, hopefully, a bright future—but this also remains to be seen. You are dismissed."

\--

As the White Wing fell into rank and departed, Executive Petrus hurried away and tried to make himself look less conspicuous before returning once more to witness the final meeting. However, when he'd arrived in the antechamber for the second time, Executive Mosley stood there waiting to greet him.

"Hello, Joel," he said.

The demon spoke through him as he shook Mosley's hand, "And hello to you, Executive Mosley."

"What brings you here? Interested in watching the incompetence of our great President?"

The demon laughed, "Why, how did you know?"

Mosley stared at him darkly and ceased smiling, "He treated you unfairly, did he not? Accused you of something of which you've been deemed not guilty."

"It's no matter."

"Oh, but it is. You see, Executive Petrus, what good ruler would treat his loyal followers like—like pets." Mosley was embittered. "We do so much more than the Lower-City and Upper-City combined—and still, we are held to higher standards than them. To my eyes, this is an unjust way of treating one's people."

"I would agree but not in front of him."

They both snickered, and Mosley said, "I believe you've suffered through enough oppression, don't you?"

"Of course." Petrus grinned. "But what do you propose?"

Mosley extended his hand again. "This time, we'll greet each as two men working toward a real future."

Petrus took it without hesitation. "What are your plans?"

"Well, my friend," Mosley indicated the door, "first, I will listen—because I always listen. And, in the coming year, I will see to it that those slothful Secretaries are disgraced in the face of everything we Executives have built."

"And you'll become Pontiff—or so you think?"

"I deserve it."

\--

I still can't believe this shit, the Grey Wing's representative thought to himself.

Since the Grey Wing required just one representative, the Heads of the Dawn Bureau were accustomed to rotating themselves out to sit in on the meetings every year. With Lieutenant Shraeu's sudden disappearance, the Bureau was forced to elect an interim chief of Aaliyah's Division. Moreover, each Lieutenant of the Bureau had grown somewhat disdainful of the President's customs and so forced the interim chief to represent them to save on time in investigating what they believed were "greater matters."

This interim chief was Aden Kaust.

The former Sergeant walked up to Derek, with a Kom Cell in hand, and bowed—

"You bow after!" the President shouted, and his scribe and orator gaped at him in shock.

"Oh,"—Kaust's mouth hung open—"I..."

"Just sit down."

Kaust did as he was instructed. Awkward silence followed.

Derek sighed. "Well, are you going to report?"

"Uh, yeah—I mean, yes Sir!"

"What is your name, Lieutenant?"

"Serge—Lieutenant Aden Kaust, Sir!"

"Are you new?' Derek was genuinely puzzled.

"Yes, Sir. Thrown into the mix without an idea of any of it."

"Is that so?" Derek arched one eyebrow.

Kaust smirked and exhaled, "The Dawn Bureau said they needed an interim, so I went. They needed someone to represent them, and so I'm here—for better or worse."

"Perhaps better...

"Often, they send some pretentious fool. A fool who tries to significantly improve my opinion of them when it never was negative in the first place.

"From what I've gathered, the 'Heads' are a rather moronic bunch but well-meaning. Oh, 'Kaust,' right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Are you the one who stood up for that boy? The boy accused of killing a Vice Executive?"

"Yes..." Kaust lowered his eyes and made himself appear humble.

"Why?"

"Oh...

"Well, Sir, it was just. It's what the Bureau is for.

"The Bureau isn't in the Citadel to make problems go away because it's convenient. We're supposed to handle them, even if it means our caseload is set back a little—"

"I don't think your former masters agree with you."

"But do you, Mr. President?"

Derek grinned.

"Why of course! You should already know how I feel toward true criminals, and, if you feel the same, I see no reason why we may not speak freely—scribe, orator!"

"Yes, Sir!" they replied in unison.

"Leave us."

The scribe was the only one who seemed taken aback and didn't hurry to leave like the orator did.

"What's wrong?" Derek scowled. "Stupid? Deaf? Leave this place, scribe; I will attend to the Lieutenant's message on my own. My memory still serves me in my old, frail age."

The young scribe scampered out of his sight, and Derek groaned.

"In what this country used to be, rules were not so fixed. I fear that when I resign, the Democratic Council will strive to over-regulate, Lieutenant Kaust."

"I'm not entirely sure of what you mean?"

"It's because it's not necessarily true, as paranoia is so wont to practice reason.

"The Council wishes to oversee every matter of State separately and abide by a set of inflexible laws to remain in place for as long as we inhabit the sky. I believe you'll come to understand their rather peculiar methods as time goes on, for I was never a politician. After all, can you count how many friends a President has?"

"I doubt it, Sir—"

"Just refer to me as Derek." There was sincerity expressed clearly in his eyes. "I may be old, but I've always held disdain for elaborate titles. 'Warlord' sounded so much better to my ears."

"Or 'Supreme Leader?'"

"Tch." Derek closed his eyes. "I was more of a fool in those times. Very controlling, you might say—but let's get to the heart of things, Kaust, for I know a great deal more than you might imagine."

"I don't know a whole lot myself, Sir, just what the other Lieutenants sent me through email."

"Nonsense. I pay more attention to the Grey Wing than any other. Do you know why?"

"I wasn't awa—"

"The Grey Wing's true master, the one above all Lieutenants... he is elusive. He is elusive for a good reason, and I know he chose you, specifically, to replace Shraeu.

"The Bureau focuses on truth—or, at least he encourages them to operate that way—but they also focus on the inner problems of the Citadel. They have access to more than they should."

"It seems that way." Kaust shrugged. "The email they sent me doesn't seem to make much sense."

"It's shouldn't. Not to you. Read to me the points marked differently than the others. Those are the most important."

Aden Kaust pulled up the Bureau Network on his Kom Cell and searched through a rather dense email to find certain entries labeled with a cross.

He read the first aloud:

"Lieutenant Shraeu has disappeared, along with Executive Tomas Gostra, and... two Bureau agents were assassinated not so long after that.

"At the bombing of Dar-Tech's chemical plant, Dawn Knights reported etchings which read: Noboros.

"After tracking down detective Aaliyah, public servants were subjected to an explosion officials believe was caused by... themselves?"

"Hmph. This I already know."

"Can you explain it, Sir?"

"Some of it. Noboros is not a regular enemy, nor were they even an 'enemy' in the beginning. I warned your master not to provoke them, but we've entered a war with someone we have no business fighting."

"But they're obviously criminals." Kaust leaned in close, wearing his astonishment on his sleeve.

"Lieutenant, the casualties they have the potential to accrue are not worth the fight—not when we face war on our own borders. Additionally, Lieutenant, Noboros would not actively pursue a battle with the Federation."

"What? That doesn't—"

"Make any sense? Ieaquim, and it's because someone has interfered in our relationship with one of the worst criminal syndicates in the world. It is either one or many perpetrators wishing to aggravate both sides, and your master has agreed that this could very well be the case."

"Derek, I think I know who's truly responsible."

"Then tell it to him."

"To who?"

"Maxwell. We've spoken quite often recently, and it's because he knows the Democratic Council could turn against his methods of handling things; they prefer the Dawn Knights, an organization that does not practice thorough investigation to the same degree. They think Federation citizens want superheroes instead of detectives."

"The Dawn Knights are just a bunch of thugs. They're no different than a gang to me."

"And that's why you must heed the advice of Maxwell. He is the future of the Dawn Federation, and the two of you may come to a consensus on the common denominator behind this unnecessary conflict."

"So, you don't want to see them imprisoned?" Kaust furrowed his brow.

"It's not a question of what I want, Kaust. I'm telling you that we would put thousands of defenseless citizens in danger by focusing on them. To avoid civil disaster, we must tend to our borders so that we may always be ready. And that is why I am asking that you identify the aggravators and punish them accordingly—move on to the next point, if you would."

"Okay," Kaust was somewhat satisfied with his response and looked through the email again, only to become more confused.

"It says... 'There's a darkness in the Citadel.' I'm not sure—"

"Really?" Derek scratched his beard and finally appeared intrigued for once. "Where?"

"Hmm... it's cryptic, but they're telling me it's in the newest Zone that's construction was halted a few months ago—Zone H."

"We reallocated our budget for the military, yes. But... that... are you certain that you read it correctly?"

"Yes, Sir. What's wrong?"

"Kaust,"—all expression escaped the President's face—"if this is true, the Citadel could face great danger. A 'darkness,' eh?

"It's a term referring specifically to an event that occurred a few years ago in the Lower-City. There were horrible, inexplicable losses for everyone involved. By the time I was asked to step in, it appeared to have gone away... but it took the lives it claimed with it."

"I don't understand."

Derek smiled eerily. "It's not something you'd want to. The 'darkness'—no, the Dusk is worse than any war possible for this country. It means that this city is housing a type of corruption that's infected its layers, that the Bureau should do everything it can to prevent its spread.

"Kaust, if we do not suture the wound, the Citadel will become septic. Therefore, when you report to your colleagues—and later, to Maxwell—ensure that this is your priority."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Maxwell will understand. But, before the Democratic Council takes control, you must divide your efforts between quelling the tension left over from Noboros' actions and stopping the Dusk from spreading. All I ask is that you do not go yourself, Lieutenant Kaust."

"Sir, but why have I never heard of this? The 'Dusk?' I don't un—"

"Are there any other points of interest?"

"Uh, yes..." Kaust looked down. "This last one makes even less sense to me."

"And what does it say?"

"It's concerning the Lower-City. It says...

"That the Citadel Prison has 'ceased swaying.'"
5

Of What's To Come

\--

Janelle

\--

"WHAT IS 'THE HIVE,' T?"

"An example of what humans can do when left to their own devices."

"C'mon, man, why can't you just tell me the whole story? What'd the Uesugi have to hide?"

"It's not about what they were hiding. They were being eaten by something, and our government couldn't do anything about what was happening in the Lower-City."

"But did you save her?"
6

The Hive

\--

Tavon

\--

AS MENDO DROVE US TOWARD THE FRINGES OF THE FOURTH QUADRANT, we noticed that more and more structures had been corroded from years of abandonment, covered in graffiti. Evening was approaching, the Lower-City got darker.

"The Shimazu wanted me for the Hive," I said.

"I'm sure they did." Mendo didn't look back to acknowledge me. "As they do everyone."

"What exactly is it?" Abul asked him.

"An ugly, ugly method of conducting business. It's part of the reason why I didn't join up with them and chose the Meiziki instead... who, honestly, aren't much better in their practices."

"That's not an explanation." Abul was bolder than I was.

"Ha!" Mendo smiled at him. "If only every demon was like you, then I might actually like demons. Very well..."

He paused for a moment and then began:

"The Hive moves as often as we chase it. Meiziki Enforcers have never been able to track it down in its entirety, and it was the primary tool the Shimazu Clan used to sustain itself as a smaller syndicate.

"You see, they were given a portion of the profits while the Uesugi benefited the most from the ordinary people they turned into fiends. At first, the Shimazu targeted whoever they could get, and, well, they offered them free drugs. If you have nothing to begin with, free drugs and shelter are a nice escape from what the Citadel is all about.

"While those in the Mid-City obsess over being wealthy and famous, the people of the Lower-City can feel something similar if provided the right substance. It started as an experiment."

"So, they were test subjects?" Abul asked.

"You got it. And, as they got hooked, the Uesugi and the Shimazu kept evolving their methods and using brand new chemicals to see how it would affect them.

"They've done this for years," he said, "and they send out their most competent junkies to recruit more. If they fall short of a set quota, then they start kidnapping. Unfortunately for them, you can't turn junkies into effective footsoldiers—believe me, they tried this. The addicts they attempted to convert were dishonorable, sloppy killers and pissed off Major Kohaku.

"In short, I think both syndicates are idiots," Mendo tightened his grip on the wheel, "and we shouldn't hesitate to crush them."

\--

There were slender figures crouched on the sidewalk to the right as well as numerous bodies strewn throughout the road. The street itself came to a dead end and was cut off while preceding wide plains formed by a metallic surface. In certain spots, the surface had either given away or hadn't been completed and revealed the faint silhouette of the Citadel Prison.

And, below that...

I peeked over the nearest wiry and incomplete portion to make out patchy fields mostly dominated by a great desert in the world outside of the Citadel.

"We'll stop here," Mendo declared.

"Are you sure?" Abul perked up. "You just want to leave it in this place?"

"No. I'm not sure, but take a look around, Abul."

Far ahead, the steel plate forming the surface upon which we stood projected skyward before angling down to a lower section within the infrastructure of the Citadel. In the middle of the downward slope, there stood the shape of an older man who stared at us without any emotion.

Mendo retrieved his assault rifle, grasped the handle of his ōdachi, and tossed me his handgun.

"I don't remember it looking like this..." he said.

The three of us left the cruiser behind, and Abul remarked, "Perhaps we'll have reinforcements come pick it up."

Mendo shook his head. "It's no matter. As long as we maintain a connection to the Meiziki through my Kom Cell, we can ask for a little extra help. Hopefully, we won't need it."

We arrived before the stranger, and he stood with his mouth open and in ragged garments flapping over a bony body. His eyes looked but didn't see; he stared through us, and Mendo waved a hand in front of his face only for him not to react.

The onlooker's jaw produced a crack as it closed. He struggled to open it once more to say something.

Nothing but a whisper emerged, and Mendo urged him, "Speak now before we pass you."

When he opened his mouth again, it stayed open and issued forth the sound of a young girl's sobbing. This sound took up the air around us and seemed to get louder as the stranger's head shook involuntarily. Something the color of piss crept down from both eyelids

Mendo pushed us and shouted, "Let's go!"

The sound of crying stopped as we made our way around him. He turned to watch us while we descended deeper into the Lower-City.

The steel slope was just as patchy as the previous open plain, which made it hard to find any decent footing; Mendo was only interested in studying the Prison.

"A fate worse than death lurks in that place," he said. "I'd rather be executed than sentenced to live in constant motion, my mind rotted from having swung back and forth for decades."

"But the Meiziki are too strong," Abul declared. "We're above that fate."

"Don't be so sure."

Mendo stopped in place.

"What's wrong?" Abul glanced at him.

"T-this..." there was fear in his eyes as he stuttered, "this doesn't make any sense..."

Several feet after the end of the path, the surface framework became sparser in design and progressed into black, spartan webbing. The ground was now a dense collection of fibers that buckled under our weight.

Across the webbed sea, Mendo had spotted rectangular buildings loosely organized around each other and shining with the glint of metal, somewhat illuminated by a huge fire pit placed in front.

Further beyond that...

We saw the beginnings of It.

"Is that a part of the Citadel?" I asked the two of them, and they both shook their heads almost at once.

"I don't recognize it," Mendo said. "It's where the Uesugi had their outer rim of security, but whatever's there now... it doesn't belong here."

We were a distance away. All we could see were ebony spires that ran toward the higher regions of the city, like ink splotches vacuumed upwards in a swirled pattern. Most of them were tilted to the left or right and gave off the impression that they were unstable.

The three of us continued until we were close enough to analyze the steel structures nearby, then we heard what sounded like multiple engines running simultaneously and issuing low hums. A collection of platinum trailers was gathered tightly enough to form a community of dwellings which occupied a lone patch of property centered before those towering spires; it looked like they were all leaning away from us.

"What is this place?" I asked them, but Abul was far too fascinated with each giant shadow in the distance.

"It's what we've been looking for," Mendo replied. "It's the Hive."

"These homes?"

"They're cruisers."

Mendo walked past the first fire pit and glanced down as he noticed an emaciated but peaceful-looking corpse. He placed his hand on the cold steel of one of the vessels and continued, "Portable buildings, if you will. The Meiziki refer to them as trailers—it's how they've evaded capture for so long. They pack up their fiends when they have to run and transport them across the Citadel in these hideous vehicles. Ugh...

"No thought was put into their general designs."

Mendo lead us around the first trailer and to a convex door installed in its center; he grabbed the miniature bar of a door handle. Mendo grunted and then pushed it clockwise as a creaking sound ensued. He attempted to yank open the entrance, to no effect.

"A weak pull. I'll try again," he snorted.

Mendo tensed his body, breathed in, and groaned in his efforts to force open the door for the second time. It refused to budge, but he didn't release his grip and cried, "C-c'mon, you stupid ba—"

The entrance to the trailer flew open. It spilled its contents: something horrible. It was a gruesome image, and we all readied our weapons at the sight of it.

The skin of a human had been stretched over the back of the door, and it expanded out onto the trailer steps, a bloated mass that contained no real skeleton. What formerly was its right arm was now a fat, shapeless plane of flesh that extended itself across the ground by several feet. Its back end was drenched in a sticky substance and attached to the inside flooring of the trailer.

The humanoid's head meshed with its inflated mess of a torso and was defined merely as a rounded protrusion, with its stretched eyes draining from their sockets. It opened its mouth, shrieking with enough force to cause my ears to ring, and Mendo stepped forward with his rifle.

Abul stopped him—"Wait... I can hear his mind."

"Are you insane?" Mendo was shocked.

"He does not wish to attack us."

"It's a 'He?'—this thing has a gender?"

"Well, it did..." Abul nodded. "He... he's happy."

"What?" Mendo looked at my friend in disgust.

Abul didn't react and concentrated for a moment while he responded, "His mind is neither here nor there. He's been transported, but he's experiencing bliss like I've never felt."

Blood was leaking from a tear in the malformed man's back; he was indifferent to it.

"Whatever he took, it permanently transformed him. But his mind, Mendo, it's where it wants to be. There is no reason to kill him."

Mendo sneered. "He's an absolute freak now."

"OH! MY MASTERS!" Someone new approached.

Mendo swung to aim the barrel of his rifle at him.

Another man, whose face was also bloated and overtook his shape, giving him the build of a slug, moaned with effort as he raced over to us. When he saw Mendo's reaction, he threw his hands in the air.

One hand was holding a small, black box with a needle, and the other... it held a human arm that was severed at the elbow.

Before Mendo could speak, the stranger moved the dismembered arm close to his mouth and started chewing at its blotched skin.

"STOP!" Mendo screamed.

The stranger shook so mightily that he accidentally dropped the hand but proceeded to inject himself in the neck while dropping the box, then he sniveled while he spoke:

"OH, my masters!" he cried, "H-have you come back? Oh, how I have wai—"

"Silence!" Abul shouted, "Keep your hands up!"

The stranger got scared. He shook under the weight of layers of accumulated fat cells.

"He's another addict," Mendo declared. "What happened here?"

"Uh, erm, uh... What happened?" He quivered. "I, uh, I-I don't know. Are you not happy? Are my masters not happy wit—"

"We are not your masters. Just tell us about what you've seen going on here."

"Only happiness." His wrinkled smile was disturbing. "Pure happiness, and then our masters were fed into starving bellies—oh yes, strangers! They were fed! And they didn't seem so happy, but maybe-maybe they were, you know?"

"Fed to whom?" Abul urged him.

"Why, you don't know yet? YOU don't know? The Uesugi, they know about them—more than they know about the others, but the Uesugi—they're SPECIAL! Maybe you can be special, too!"

The stranger attempted to inject himself again, but Mendo reached out and took the syringe from his grasp.

In retaliation, the addict leapt out at him and screamed, "No! You can't!"

Mendo sidestepped, rotated, and fired on the newcomer until his enlarged form collapsed to the ground while succumbing to dozens of bullet wounds. Mendo didn't express any emotion; he broke the syringe by tightening his fist. Blood seeped from his hand, and his demeanor got much colder.

"Let's find the girl then," he said.

"I can hear a voice," Abul exclaimed.

"Where?"

"Hmm..." Abul focused and closed his eyes. "It's far. Keep moving, and I'll be able to tell as we go."

We walked deeper into the encroaching rows of metal trailers, and Mendo decided to stop checking their inner contents. After we'd passed the embered remains of a scattered pit, Abul said, "Turn up here... I think."

There was an open passage on the right that was stained with a long streak of blood, blood having dried some time ago. We walked on by another row, then I could see that some of these trailers had windows that were either cracked or splattered with red.

At the end of the path, we witnessed what could've been at least a hundred bodies piled upon each other and centered within stones encircling them. Bundles of clothes and wooden fragments were placed around slender corpses; to the left and propped against another trailer, there was an armored body with both its head and helmet having been smashed and all but pressed into the trailer's exterior.

Mendo strode up to it and began removing the armor.

"What are you doing?" Abul asked him. He was more nervous than he'd been earlier, which was odd to see for a demon prince.

"He might've carried a Kom Cell."

And he did.

Mendo retrieved the deceased soldier's Cell and pulled up a holographic screen that showed a log of all the calls he'd placed. Mendo scrolled down to the last entry, which appeared—like the rest—as just a number. He shrugged and said, "Might as well give 'em a ring."

We waited for some time after he'd placed the call and heard just the beeps it made when trying to connect.

"Mendo, I don't think—"

The sound it produced promptly changed to static noise on the other end of the line. Mendo said nothing; he just waited. Abul and I stood there in silence while keeping focused on our surroundings.

"We're being watched..." Abul muttered. "I can't tell from where, but there's eyes on us."

The static vanished on the other end and was replaced with the voice of a younger man. The voice was calm. Deliberate.

"Come closer." It said, "Come closer... Mendo."

Mendo tossed the device onto the ground and crushed it under his heel. He clenched his jaw before he said, "Let's go. We have to find her."

"I think we already have," Abul said and indicated the only trailer that stood before the beginnings of the silhouetted city of spires.

Mendo stepped in front of us. "Can you see it, too?"

Abul nodded, but I replied, "No? What's wrong?"

Without hesitating, the Meiziki warrior placed a hand on my shoulder, and...

CONTENT WARNING

If the current reader is disturbed by scenes depicting graphic violence, familial abuse, or disturbing imagery in general, then I ask that the reader skip this section and move on to "Part Three."

Thank you,

Josh

The ceiling above us had faded.

In its place, arcs of black lighting were frozen in the space directly above one trailer and wrapped themselves around a dark purple body that was immense in its stature and floated in a hollow silence.

The lightning held a fetus, veined, grotesque, and with an enlarged, sunken head, in its embrace. Its arms were static in position and reached for an umbilical cord that had fallen around the trailer and moved on its own as black blood oozed across the ground.

A stream of it seemed to slowly come our way, and I watched as Mendo's face got pale.

"The crying," Abul said, "it's coming from the inside."

Mendo strapped his assault rifle to his back and drew his ōdachi while tightening his grip. "What is this, Abul?"

"I don't know," he said. "This is not a spirit that belongs to my kind. It could be an illusion—"

"Not if we're all seeing the same thing," he responded then quickened his pace toward the entrance, which itself radiated with an aura of same shade possessed by the fetus.

"Ugh..." he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

The girl's wailing had increased; now, it meshed with a deep growl that constantly shifted in pitch. At times, the sound was striking; in other instances, the feral noise got consistent, making a deep hum.

"Fuck," grumbled Mendo. "I hate it."

"We should turn back..." It was the first time I'd ever heard Abul express genuine fear since we'd been ambushed on Naizo's ship. "This place is not meant for us."

"Nonsense. If it's a threat, we'll remove it from the Citadel; I'll live up to my namesake."

Mendo wasn't about to listen anymore, and maybe he couldn't, as our hearing was soon overtaken with layered sobbing mixed with those demonic howls.

He stopped before the door and glanced back, "Abul."

"You want ME to do it?" Abul pointed toward where I was standing, "Why don't you have Tavon—"

"It's your turn, Abul—also, I think we'd all be more comfortable with a demon taking point."

"Bastards..." Abul sighed and reached forward to clutch the handle of the door.

It swung open easily this time, but all we could see on the inside was darkness.

"The crying's stopped."

Abul took a step toward the entrance.

A gust of wind accompanied by a powerful scream met us—

Piercing noise compelled us back as the inside of the room became alit with a greyish glow that faded before triggering a fluorescent light above us. I nearly fell back from the scream's force, but I gained my bearings once it quieted down. We could all see what'd happened.

On the inside of the trailer, everything had been coated in a thick layer of red. To our far right, bones and organs had been smashed into a wall and right over the crushed helmet of a former Shimazu soldier. A table was positioned in front and displayed a beating heart with veins having attached themselves to its surface and that ran along its iron legs. A dismembered human thigh hung from the ceiling, and Mendo flinched, grunting when he felt more blood drip down to stain his dark hair.

To our left, we saw people huddled in the far corner; there were three bodies sprawled there. One of them solely contained an upper torso, as his remains from the waist down had been crushed. The second didn't have any skin. The third... his limbs had been ripped from him before his form curled into a tight ball while bone fragments escaped from open crevices.

A young girl was in the corner, and she hid her face from us.

Mendo went over to her, more concerned than I'd ever witnessed him be, and she looked up...

Her eyes were obscured by what had to be three small blood vessels. Her face was ghost-white; it exposed veins which forced themselves out from beneath her skin. Her red hair turned a deeper rose color, and a black cloud emerged from her mouth as her voice reverberated around the interior:

"Please don't stay. I'm no longer the child that you seek. It will consume you."

"We're here to take you from this place," Mendo stated resolutely. He showed compassion, but this compassion was resistant to reason.

"NO!"

She began to cry blood.

"That's what they said!"

Mendo stepped in to touch her arm—

He gasped, backing away as a shallow laceration appeared across his own.

After he'd been staggered, a spherical body was generated from above the head of the girl; it started to grow, and Mendo readied his sword.

"STOP!" she screamed and then transformed into a living statue.

From the dark body, great feathered wings sprang forth and ahead of long beak lined with rows of fanged teeth. The figure of a crow with eyeless sockets embraced the girl, shielding her from Mendo.

"Begone," it said, "for this land doesn't belong to you, nor does it belong to any human."

"Oh yeah?" Mendo barked in a blind fury.

He held his blade out before him. "What are you gonna do? Eat her?"

The beast was quiet. It didn't respond to the provocation, at first, not until it said, and in a lower tone, "There is one I may devour. A morally bankrupt fellow.

"Do you seek her protection?"

"Absolutely." Abul positioned himself between Mendo and the creature. "She's only a human girl—what business could you possibly have with her?"

"A 'human girl' she was, demon, but humans changed that entirely."

The avian started to chuckle. It then mourned eerily, "Such individuals have been twisted by the world you created, for she has not Awakened, strangers... not quite.

"She's been reborn, and it's a beautiful rebirth—Not deserving of this world!" it shrieked.

"She's been baptized. Would you still choose to save her?"

"I have to," said Mendo. "I have to make sure she gets out of this place safely. I'll let nothing touch her!"

I thought over my mentor's words. I couldn't understand why he was showing so much sympathy.

"Very well. I am her keeper now; therefore, Mendo, Abul, and Tavon shall lead my child deeper into the darkness.

"There, and only there, will you find the key to navigate what has become purely corrupted, a source so drenched in filth that it is now perfected in its filth.

"What needs to be done is unquestionable: drain the source of the infection, and the rest of the city will experience a brighter future, though all futures seep into nothing..." it paused in contemplation, then it said, "Some fates are not always subjected to ruin."

A burst of wind struck us all, pushing me off my feet as the creature disappeared overhead.

The girl stood...

"We're running out of time." she said without acknowledging any of us.

Mendo got to his feet. Concerned, he asked her, "Are you sure y—"

"I won't cry anymore." Her face was clouded with long, curled hair. "I want to punish the people responsible for this."

She strode toward the exit, and Abul mused, "How odd. Rather than possess her, the demon's accompanying her as an equal. They've become... companions."

"But she's right." Mendo steeled himself. "Whether or not we define ourselves as ordinary thugs, we have to stop this."

We left the trailer—

Then we were surrounded by them.

\--

Every addict had followed us here and watched with hungry eyes. Some of them were moving congregations of flesh, whereas other retained bloated torsos and were armed with spiked bats, knives, axes, and blades close in size to Mendo's ōdachi. There were thirty of them in all. One, who looked like he was covered in shit and blood, stepped forth with a broad sword in his hands and smiled madly as he screamed:

"We'll take it from you! Oh yes, we'll take IT! We'll take it-we'll take it-we'll—"

He kept repeating himself as he hurried to thrust his blade toward the girl.

Mendo reacted.

He leapt forward, brought his ōdachi above her head, and swung down to cut through his target's collarbone before his blade sunk deeper into the body. Mendo didn't stop and pulled his weapon loose by pressing on the corpse's stomach with one foot.

He charged and leaned in when close, piercing another addict through his chest, then three more ambushed him.

"I can't manipulate them!" Abul shouted.

He resolved to start shooting instead.

I rushed to Mendo's side and punched the knife-wielding enemy to his left. The addict fell to the ground but tried to spring himself up while stabbing me in the leg with the short blade. I cried out but rapidly moved to punch him again; I kept jabbing my opponent until he fell back—

But I couldn't move fast enough.

Of all the fiends present, the biggest mass of flesh closed in and flanked me.

A great weight wrapped itself around my body, and I felt suffocated as I struggled to break free by repeatedly striking the inside of something formless and without weakness. I reached for my pistol; the end of what could've been a bone jutted out from above and connected with my head. I tumbled over but held my firearm out in front of me before unleashing a bunch of rounds into its center.

The malformed human retracted itself, then it released me as it hobbled away with agony clear on its bloated face. I composed myself in time to avoid a small ax aimed to split my skull. I turned, fired, and missed a fiend as he also rotated and swept the air to reach me.

"Damn kid!" he screeched, "GIVE IT TO ME!"

I stepped back as the blade flew before my face and then closed the distance, landing a clean blow to the man's head, knocking him unconscious.

At the same moment, another one clawed at my back and brushed me aside to pick up the ax. On my left, two more of the addicts approached with knives and seemed to struggle against each other just for the space to attack me. All three of them ignored one another's presence as they sprinted in my direction, and I kept backing away to fix the current jam in my gun.

Just as I banged the chamber against my hand, I tripped and fell over a smaller human mass—

I aimed and fired without discretion.

One of my rounds pierced the head of the leftmost attacker, but the one wielding an ax exclaimed, "YES!"

He sprang into action, and, as he heaved his weapon in the air, preparing to swing, Mendo appeared. Mendo plunged his ōdachi through the attacker's head, splitting it into two parts as scarlet blood rained across my forehead.

The last fiend stabbed him in the chest, but the blade was shallow enough to avoid injuring any vital organs. Mendo shoved the man with the wooden end of his weapon and arced his blade skyward, then he swung it to cleave through his enemy's skull.

He glanced to the side, and we both noticed that more of them were closing in on the girl.

Four lunged to attack her, but they were abruptly rendered petrified in place.

Her body trembled, her face was overshadowed with an incredible light that spread across our reality and gave off a comforting warmth. We were bathed in the heat of shining that reached out with an unseen hand and took hold of those around us.

They convulsed violently, and it increased in waves as they screamed, all the while feeling their insides press against what contained them. A man next to me looked toward the sky; his eyes were scorched, having burned away in a thin line of smoke, and his mouth opened to scream. His skull expanded in size, briefly, then—

Our attackers imploded.

A mess of gore washed over us as headless corpses sank to the ground. The girl stood in the middle, tightening her fists with strength that compelled veins to bulge along her arms. She muttered something vigorously; a black tear rolled down her right cheek.

Mendo, Abul, and I were covered in what had probably been the addicts' guts, but she remained there, basking in a pure light. There was a glow around her now, and Mendo approached with renewed worry.

"You've Awakened early," he said, expressing something close to pity. "What... what did you father call you, or do you remember?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she kept looking at his feet while continuing to chant the same unheard phrase over and over again.

"Hey!" he urged her, "It's okay now—they're not he—"

"I know," she whispered.

Abul walked to stand by Mendo's side. "Interesting."

I didn't want to move that close after having witnessed a mass execution, but then I noticed that her eyes were as normal as we'd ever seen them appear: two hazel irises around pupils dilated to take up most of the space allotted to them. She stared at Mendo directly, with confidence.

She said, "To Kozas, I was 'miscreant,' 'trash,' 'stupid little shit.'"

Mendo tried to console her, "I'm s—"

"I'm scum," she said. "So be it. You will call me 'Scum.'"
7

Eternal Dusk

\--

Tavon

\--

WE JOURNEYED TOWARD THOSE ENDLESS SPIRES.

Whenever we thought we'd made progress, they only appeared farther away in the distance. We continued over wiring that stretched for a length I believed would never end, carrying this infinite emptiness that coursed in all directions but never toward our goal.

"I won't call you 'Scum,'" said Mendo.

"I won't either." I chimed in.

She didn't respond to us, and Abul spoke for her, "An Awakened Child is welcome to whatever term she prefers."

"Yeah. But I won't call her that just because her dad was..."

"A fool." Scum said, "A complete and utter fool."

Black webbing steadily appeared, growing denser as we kept going, and was arranged in the shape of each spire. It had almost tricked us with its image, and we sped up the pace as the ground sloped downward into an even deeper portion of the Citadel.

I stepped now across weak framework that buckled beneath my weight but still supported my descent. The web above turned into an overhead covering that marked the beginning of a wide tunnel of cables coated with a dark, sticky substance. At the entrance, we spotted about a dozen police cruisers gathered around its opening but no living bodies present.

Mendo had us stop to inspect each cruiser, and he asked of no one in particular, "The police are already aware, huh? Can you tap into any memories, Abul?"

"No!" the demon scoffed. "I cannot see the memories of people who aren't here to begin with!"

"I don't understand. We haven't seen the Uesugi or any more addicts, and the cops have all gone ahead without leaving behind reinforcements. There's no way to tell when additional units could show up..."

Scum hadn't stopped and was already walking through the cave of meshed wires.

"Hey!" Mendo called after her, but she refused to look back.

He grunted and hurried in her wake, and I started as well—until Abul put his hand on my chest, gazing at me with a hint of dread in his eyes.

"What?" I felt annoyed.

"Are you sure you still want to go with us? You're the only one in this group with no ability other than weak marksmanship skills...

"I don't think Mendo would blame you for returning to the Meiziki."

"Abul! You kno—"

He cut me off, "Whatever awaits us is searching for people exactly like you, Tavon. Until you've fully Awakened, I'd prefer that you not accompany us."

"And I will." I said defiantly. "It doesn't matter what you say to me—I'm gonna Awaken soon, Abul!"

He sighed. "It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid. If all the humans who wanted the Gift suddenly received it... well, I'm afraid the world would have problems worse than those caused by evil spirits."

"It doesn't matter," I said again and brushed him aside. "We'll survive this because we've survived everything else. I will Awaken, Abul. I've done it once. I need to do it again, just one more time."

"Ugh..." Abul chased after me, and all four of us were then immersed in the narrow cave.

Abul remained at my side while Mendo stayed at Scum's. Together, we experienced what became a scene of clustered framework rotating and swirling to reveal an exit so bright that it concealed everything after it. Halfway through the tunnel, my feet compressed steel against a lavendered liquid which shot up in bursts while squelching with resistance. The cave led downward, then we were forced to crouch as we came to a turn that dropped off. We had to use the wiring underneath so that we could descend to safety.

The liquid splashed across my hands, sharper sections of the wire cut through my skin, but I kept going while Abul maintained his position as our rear guard. Though I hated Abul's protective attitude, he was genuinely worried about me; he felt compassion for an "inferior human."

When we'd reach the bottom of the cave's escarpment, the overhead ceiling started to ebb and flow, gushing mounds of organs crushed beyond recognition. A set of sickly-looking entrails forced themselves through thick, mucoidal linings and drew toward the exit before disappearing into an open space. We moved below that space, and I peered up to see the head of some awful abomination whose skin pressed tightly against a horned skull. It opened its jaws to devour the entrails, which themselves continued out the back of his skull and was fed around, through the ceiling, to begin again.

At our sides, the walls were now a collection of veins that pulsated over the wet insides of the cavern. We were in something's stomach, which seemed to reach toward us while keeping in rhythm with constant vibrations that came close to mimicking a heartbeat. Wind blasted through the exit, causing the entirety of the cave to retract as a groan escaped from all around us. The surface we stood upon melded with black steel and showed that it'd been pierced in its fusion to bleed out into the swamp at my feet.

I stepped forward, and I heard the groan of the infinite beast again as some yellow shit sprayed from where my heel had landed. I shuddered and felt a moment of intense fear; I tried to reduce the heaviness of my gait. On my six step, the sole of my shoe dug in too deeply, and blood spurted from a wound I'd accidentally created.

The wind howled through and nearly pushed us onto our backs.

I looked to Abul, who's demeanor was calm while I'd been obviously stressed.

"What is this?"

Next to me, a face pressed out from the innards and moaned through the pink that stretched across its cheekbones. I backed away, but Abul closed in to analyze it.

"I'm not quite sure," he replied. "Perhaps it's the work of a demon."

The girl who called herself Scum halted and echoed through the cavern: "They are neither here nor there."

"Who?" Mendo asked her.

"The ones on the outside... now inside. That which was in form turned inside out."

"The police?"

She nodded. "And we, who are of form, are now inside of them."

"You mean..." Mendo looked around in bewilderment, "This is what became of them?"

"Yes. For they sought the one. They sought to bring attention to a place that desires none for itself, for it is vast and empty in its reigning judgment. Do you understand, Mendo?"

He slowly breathed in and out.

"We're standing on men and women who are neither quite alive or dead. Rather, someone has condemned them to suffer."

"Then Tavon needs to leave," Abul insisted.

"What?" I glanced between Mendo and him in shock. "I—"

"He's right." Mendo agreed with him. "Someone without a working knowledge of zol has no business pursuing the head of the Uesugi."

He gestured with his ōdachi at the exit.

"Tavon, take one of the crui—"

The way to the entrance closed.

Grotesque protrusions met each other at the center and promptly bloated to fill the opening. Purple capillaries jutted out, and a powerful gust of wind—this time coming from a small abscess in the middle—pushed us toward the exit.

When we'd gathered ourselves, Scum said, "They want us to go."

"Who?"

"The ones who were punished for hunting your friend, Mendo. They want us to enact their vengeance so that they may finally be at peace."

"This is not reversible." Abul shook his head firmly. "A reversal could be attempted, but these people will never return to their former states."

I started moving closer to Mendo and Scum, but my shoes again struck far too deep into the insides of the cavern, and it actually screamed in response!

"Tavon!" Mendo shouted. "Trod carefully in this place. If you're going to be coming with us, stay close behind me."

And I did, feeling like I would become useful if things got out of hand. I wanted, more than anything, to Awaken. Because, if I became like Mendo, I'd become indispensable. If I was indispensable, no one could dispute my strength, and that would carry me into a future where I was needed. Respected.

I didn't want to be like the others in my life who'd died too early. Abul had aided me in seeing to that with our overcoming of Naizo.

This was how it was meant to be.

The light at the exit never quit its shining. It was eerily bright as we came only a few feet closer, and I could hear Abul grumble, "You'd better not die, Tavon. We've come too far."

Before we could pass through the veil of light, an army of hands shot out from the cave, in a full circle, and reached toward us. As we all backed away, every one of them pointed to the exit, and we heard a final groan as the beast seemed to call out something.

Scum translated: "They said, 'Kill him.'"

We stepped through.

\--

On the other side, we came to realize that we'd entered an entirely different world. The skies glowed with a shade stuck between the signaling of both dawn and dusk and corrupted with streaks of violet which stabbed crimson stars decorating the heavens. At the far northern edge of the hemisphere, we saw the red constellation of a form crouching to retrieve its dismembered head. A head with no eyes and accompanied only by a wide smile that was drawn from ear to ear.

There was no longer a city before our eyes; in its place, the world of the Citadel had vanished, giving way to millions of dark formations clawing out from grey, brightly-veined earth. Each spire was a living tower that sought the skies and swayed in the air as they grew. Black emissions covered the full lengths of their bodies and thickened into a covering of corrupted sand that flowed upward in layers and in a continuous motion. Had they existed in the Citadel before, they would've reached as far as the Mid-City.

Each one of them was crowded together, sealing multiple passages, creating a twisted labyrinth, and reflecting the streets and alleys normally found in a city.

Mendo and Abul's eyes turned toward the skies, but I kept searching a "street" ahead when I noticed that some substance began filling any open space and increased in volume to cover the ground. When it overflowed, it spilled our way; Abul tapped me on the shoulder, and I reflexively looked at that damnable entity above it all.

It was like some hideous moon. I saw the image of a monster far worse than what any of us had encountered previously. Black shards pierced the heavens and formed spear-like clouds that indicated the loosely-formed oval hovering overhead.

I saw... eyes.

\--

A moon with a haunting face. It had eye sockets that seemed as if they'd been torn down into shallow canals of flesh. Along both canals, I saw rows of mad eyes glaring at us. At its point of concentration, a black void appeared where its nose might've been and was centered above a mouth lacking teeth and that remained opened in an expression of despair. From behind it, there was a secondary mouth. Its jaws displayed hundreds of fanged teeth which appeared to move on their own.

Its eyes wouldn't break their gaze; the dark moon became fascinated with our presence, but it refused to speak or show signs of life aside from those spindly teeth moving in sync and with a broken jawline.

\--

I felt afraid, but no one else reacted in the same way.

"What... is that?" I asked them all.

Abul turned to me, and, surprisingly, his eyes were bloodshot.

"It's why you shouldn't have come. Creatures like that have no business being here."

I stared into those eyes and saw what looked like tentacles emerging from behind it, changing its appearance to that of a demonic Sun that cursed this world with its image.

Scum spoke, to me this time, "Don't stare for too long... They don't like it."

Eze.

Eze's smiling face whirled by and left a trail of static that separated this world from a memory; both were divided between each other, and his smile spread so much that the flesh in his cheeks were peeled back. It was a horrible, hungry grin set below bloodthirsty eyes.

"Tavon!"

Abul rushed to my side and shook me back into my right state of mind.

I'd started sweating after falling to my knees and covering my eyes. When I tried to check my surroundings, drops of blood fell across my hands. It stung to try to see clearly.

Scum laughed, "It'll burn your eyes. Maybe eat them if It comes to you."

I looked to Mendo, who scoffed at me and said to Abul, "He's too weak to have his mind in a place like this."

"No."

I forced Abul to back away as I stood to my feet and grabbed my gun. I could see a light flicker in Mendo's eyes.

"I can handle this."

Scum smiled eerily. "He's asleep, but he wants to Awaken." Veins quickly covered her eyes, dilating as the pitch of her voice deepened, "Without Awakening, Tavon the orphan shall slumber forever. Do you not wish for everlasting peace, boy?"

I didn't know how to respond. I was pissed, but... I couldn't be angry at her—not when her own situation had been arguably worse than mine.

"Scum..." I started and then corrected myself, "I—I mean—"

Mendo stepped my way, but Scum stopped him. Her eyes returned to normal, and she said, "No, Mendo. He meant no harm in calling me what I asked him to."

He looked at me in disgust, and I felt ashamed. I wanted to impress him the most.

Abul placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's no matter, friend. You only mean—"

A deep voice addressed us from the entrance of the midnight city:

"Come this way."

At its beginning, there was something of a street that stopped before grey shards of rock that marked the ground at our feet. The liquid from before revealed itself to be blood, and it crawled toward us as it rose in level and submerged the spires nearby.

As it reached my ankles, the voice spoke again, "Brave the river. Come this way.

"The river will rise without you, and you will be lost in a sea of the dead."

"Let's go!" Mendo yelled and hurried toward the source of it.

The three of us followed behind him as Scum remarked, "He's like me; we both know what to do."

I looked to Abul with doubt. "Should we really follow a disembodied voice?"

He smirked and replied, "Do you have any other ideas? If the girl is willing to take the voice's advice, then who are we to go another way?"

\--

We stepped through streams of blood. It swarmed and stuck to my running shoes. As we moved onward, it added weight to our steps, affecting how fast we could travel as a unit. The spires at the entrance, as well as to our left and right, got to be more detailed as we approached. Inside of them, I could just see misshapen faces attached to slender, human bodies that glided around within a world separate from ours. Their faces howled, showed black eyes; they'd mouths that screamed as they floated, seeming to warn against something. It was a vague warning and one unheeded by our persistent leader.

The river rose again, and we moved past both spires to see a much larger formation at the center of two rows which led east and west respectively.

"We're not splitting up," Mendo said.

Scum pointed to the left, and we headed westward as a group.

The ground eventually sloped up, bringing us above the growing river, and we strode beyond narrow and eerie corridors emerging only from the small spaces between each spire cluster. When we'd reached the top of a greyish purple plateau marred by various cracks along its surface, we spotted several constructions made of stone to form what could've been dwellings. We checked them out, finding every house to be the same: spacious but empty. I spotted no furniture, no living inhabitants.

The plateau appeared to wind past hundreds of these homes, which were all scattered along the road to the heart of the city. We walked around a group of stone buildings on the way and then noticed the humanoid skeleton of someone who'd had a grossly obvious hunchback.

"Don't go near it." Abul warned.

In an oblong-shaped stone dwelling ahead, we found another skeleton propped against the wall and missing its lower jaw. I inspected it as they moved on, and then I looked up to confirm that the monster in the sky was still watching us on our journey. Below it, the river kept ascending. The cragged earth was now fully submerged; it threatened to drown us if we didn't find a way that led higher.

The path shifted to the right, and we turned to see yet another disturbing creation:

Severed forearms were positioned side-by-side and interlocked to appear as a set of thick steps. They moved on their own but mostly remained in place while writhing in agony that would persist for an eternity.

Mendo didn't falter; he went on ahead, and one of the open hands tried to reach for him. It grasped onto the cloth around his leg, but Mendo kicked it away from him, snarling, "Back off!"

As I collected myself, everyone else proceeded. Abul studied me without me realizing it.

He shouted, "C'mon! You don't want to be left behind!"

I nodded, then I took the first step.

The flesh on the forearm below me parted from it, causing the limb to shake with a violence that forced me back for a second. While the arm reached for me, a mixture of pus and blood leaked from it and into the river beneath.

"Hurry, Tavon!"

I stepped onto a different arm and rushed over more interlocked limbs to catch up with the rest of the group.

Before I made it to Abul's side again, I fell forward and amidst hands that grasped for me! I felt cold flesh, their firm clutches as they locked themselves around my arms and legs and tried to hold me in place. I gasped and fought against them, freeing myself fast before I ran to Abul, who sneered, "Stop being a coward! This is not how you confront your fears!"

I kept moving while avoiding slipping a second time. "But what the hell are these things? Are they...?"

"Living? Perhaps. Tavon, this plane is one of many that belong to the Dusk."

"Like the place where we found Muromusz, right?"

"Exactly." he said.

We arrived at a break between two sets of the human-made steps and onto a short platform, where Mendo comforted the weary girl.

"Can you go on?" Mendo asked, as if he was her father. "If you're tired, we can—"

"It's fine..." she exhaled, "It's just..."

"What's wrong?" he leaned in to allow her to whisper, but Scum spoke so that all of us could hear, "I knew some of them."

"What?" Mendo raised his eyebrows. "You mean, i-it's just like the cave from before?"

"Yes. But this time... I know them. They're reaching for me to return to them. It's because the spirits in this place recognize me from the Hive."

"It's coming together now," Abul chimed in as he fostered contempt in his eyes. "There was a design in place here. The Dusk does not grow without a strong, malignant influence, and someone has fed its emergence."

Mendo asked of Scum, "Are some of these spirits the Uesugi themselves?"

She nodded, trembling briefly, then she said, "Meiziki and Uesugi."

"Abul," I looked to him. "Is every appearance of the Dusk like this?"

"No." He shook his head. "This one is something of an anomaly.

"Whereas the Dusk is uniquely a spirit's creation, this place is an even greater perversion of that. It is the Dusk, but it is also an unrecognizable apparition to me, as I'd be able to clearly communicate with something in a realm of demons. Here..."

He frowned. "This is the land of stranger beings."

"Which is why we have to do something about it," Mendo said.

"But what can we do?" I asked him.

Mendo indicated Scum, "I'll leave that for her to decide. She seems to know more than all of us put together."

Her voice deepened; her eyes changed again as she smiled.

"We must go to the Center, Mendo. We must find the Source of it all. We must find the one who fed the Dusk, and we must feed to him a deep bitterness from which he can never recover."

"And that will destroy this place? Keep it from affecting the rest of the Lower-City?"

"Indeed."

She froze and gazed ahead

"Hey!" Mendo touched her shoulder. She looked down as she wiped her eyes.

Scum said, "I'm sorry. Let's... let's keep going."

Abul and I glanced at each other.

"We've been here before," Abul said. "I know you feel it."

"I do."

We both sensed Death not so far away.

Our group climbed to the top of the steps and were immediately assaulted with an impressive barrage of wind, wind that filtered through a deep valley made within black crust and surrounded on both sides by rocky, slender hills. The force of it blasted against my eyes, but I walked forward while attempting to cover them as a deep fog blended with the air.

Mendo shouted to Scum, "WHEN WE GET THERE, DO YOU KNOW HOW TO STOP IT? HOW TO REMOVE THE SOURCE?"

Her guardian spoke through her:

"Trust in me, and I shall lead you."

The fog rose above, obscuring everything but the mouth of the Dark Sun. My view was mostly clouded over in the dense enclosure; despite that, I was still able to see the shape of a wide structure in the distance.

Only the silhouette of it stood tall in its horrible majesty; the ground itself seemed to crawl toward it. The cragged foundations dissolved into colorless sand that was brushed in the opposite direction of such fierce winds. It swirled forward of our position until changing to an incredible shade of ruby that wound and folded in upon itself. When I stepped into this section of the world, the red sand grasped my feet but didn't force me down as the dismembered limbs before had. Instead, I sunk a few inches below and felt a chilled sensation mixed with light resistance as I kept trying to fight my way through.

My head was starting to spin. I knew I wasn't weak to the point of losing my mind, but I felt nauseous. Perhaps I'd been in a state of shock and had at last become aware of it, but the sand...

It tugged at me. Made me think of returning to the soil and never coming back.

A hand, with its skin having been peeled, gripped the back of my leg, and I sprinted ahead in astonishment.

"Don't give in to the trick!" Abul shouted after me. I noticed more of those same hands reaching for the others; still, none of them had the strength to hold anyone down.

Mendo looked down on me again.

"If you're going to piss yourself," he said, "save it for a better time."

"Ugh," I muttered and cringed as more of them appeared at my feet. "I hate this place."

At the top of the building before us, I saw a round shape placed atop its peak and attached to it by a thick cylinder. As we moved closer, the cylinder became more defined. It revealed a layer spread tightly across the structure's corners, melding with the rest of it.

Closer, and veins appeared in the cylinder.

Closer, and the cylinder was a neck, part of a grotesque whole.

Closer, and the building was no longer a building; it was a house made of flesh, of human flesh, and it heaved and sighed under the pain it experienced while stretched to accommodate the full width of the square structure.

Further progression brought a red interior into sight, a house of organs lined with a real membrane. Blue canals started at the monstrosity's neck and descended through the main body to connect with the ground. From there, they split in all directions and pulsated in rhythm with the wind. As harsh gusts struck us time and time again, the house of organs seemed to breathe in and out and in a calm, rested manner. It stayed mostly unbothered, a pink revulsion waiting in the Dusk, made to suffer in a permanently contorted state of being.

It was unbothered... until we showed our faces.

At the end of the neck, the form of a head stared off into the distance and in the direction of an incredibly skinny, indistinguishable spire that peaked over the ridges winding toward it. From the side of the spire, there hung a bell that looked similar to a phygelius flower: slender and embellished at its end.

When we'd stepped close enough, the head began to turn and induce a series of gut-wrenching folds across its stiff neck. From its side, there appeared the end crease of a pair of lips over teeth that had rotted long ago. Half of its nose was covered in skin, but the other exposed bone and cartilage. Wide and rage-filled red pupils flitted back and forth to find what it was that had graced its territory...

And those pupils found us.

It opened its mouth as part of the beginning of a constant intonation. Its voice flowed from it as part of a forlorn chorus, a chorus structured to fit a kind of cursed symphony that fractured the world around us as it shook at the sound of it. From behind that terrible voice, the phygelius bell began to ring out and accompanied the song of dread. Together, they created a harmony intertwined as part of this reality and stopped the ferocious winds that had previously beckoned us to leave its presence.

Mendo fell to his knees. He covered his ears while blinking furiously.

Abul did the same and pressed his face against the sand, but no human hands reached to disturb it.

Scum wailed in a voice that didn't belong to her; her possessor cried while in the throes of the symphony.

And me?

Something surged through me. I felt power... power like I'd never known except for when I'd confronted Naizo. I felt my body tense, but soon it started to hurt because of how intense it was.

I tried to be stoic; I stood as the face stared above us and continued to howl, now gazing upon the Dark Sun.

In the end, it all stopped.

And, from the ground, there sprang a form that forced itself up and out while gasping for air. It placed its spread palms against the insides of what was another crimson membrane, and jets of blood spurted from it as the newcomer tried to break free.

"He's here," Scum spoke through her tears.

The figure nearly stood at the same height as Mendo, but its neck was still forced down underneath the pressure of the membrane. It groaned, then it pushed against it once more, and we watched when a hand freed itself, tearing through the final layer. I saw a blood-drenched set of knuckles extend outward; it was joined with another as both tore open a portal to break through. The head above intonated again, in tune with one last strike of the bell behind it, and the newcomer freed himself:

It was a human. Bald, broad-shouldered, and with a densely muscular build. His body was intimidating because of its sheer size and evocative power. The man's eyes had gone completely black. They were divided by a tattoo of a dark, segmented line running up from his chin and ending in an arrow that split into three more miniature versions of itself spreading across his septum.

He flashed a bright smile at us while clutching a thick chain, a large kusari-fundo, that laid across his forearms as well as the ground at his feet, both sides ending in rounded, weighted ends that he utilized with lethality. He was clean-shaven, youthful-looking. Something outlining him burned with a blindingly bright light.

I'm not sure if his eyes analyzed each of us individually, but he seemed interested in just Mendo. The world around us grew silent in reverence to the newcomer, who kept his body straight and prepared with a sort of grace Mendo himself lacked. From him, I felt overwhelming strength, the kind of strength I'd admired as a kid. This guy felt so...

Unstoppable.

If Mendo was afraid, he didn't show it. He almost forgot to speak, but he sneered the name: "Enok."

"What?" Enok chuckled condescendingly. His triumphant smile persisted, and he said, "You didn't miss me, huh? C'mon, Mendo, what happened to the bond we had?"

Mendo smirked. "You haven't changed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He turned his head up and eyed Mendo curiously.

Mendo took a step toward him. "You're still an arrogant fool. Ridha would be ashamed to look upon his own son—"

"But you're not ashamed."

"What?" Mendo gasped.

"Don't act so fake, man. You were proud the moment you laid eyes on me. I've surpassed you."

As Enok smiled wider, every muscle seemed more defined, though his body appeared kinda starved.

"How...

"How could I be proud of what you've become, Enok? What have you done? Do you understand what's going to happen now?" Mendo's face reddened.

The chain clinked as Enok moved his hands to his chest to stifle much greater laughter.

"This is funny to you?" exclaimed Abul.

"Yeah," Enok said, "because it's what he always wanted, to gain unbelievable power, and now I have what he's lusted after—"

"You're wrong." Mendo scowled. "You've mistaken your desires for mine. I don't care about power for the sake of power, Enok."

"...

"Then maybe you really have grown," said Enok. "You were always so frightened of everything as a teenager—I mean, even your old man could tell.

"Before the Nagao and Uesugi were rivals, before 'Elder Old Man' turned into a senile idiot, the two of us were set to rule the Lower-City. WE were the most talented."

"But I never wanted to be the head of a criminal organization," Mendo responded flatly. "That was your ambition—you loved it, and now..."

"Now what? What's changed that freaks you out so much?"

"Are you kidding?"

I'd never seen Mendo so conflicted in his emotions. Part of him cared; part of him hated.

He rolled his eyes and asked, "What have you done, Enok? Explain this."

"Heh." Enok exhaled, then his expression was solemn.

"I pledged myself to the Dusk's Mulungu. You won't understand—I already know you can't. Mendo, I went above the demons themselves this time. I tapped into my full potential!"

"The 'Mulungu?'"

Enok nodded toward the black Sun in the sky.

"You may refer to it as God. After all, it's the only god that rules over this place. What a nice touch for the Citadel, don't you think?"

Mendo struggled to keep himself from shaking and raised his voice, "Where are the rest of the Uesugi, Enok? What did you do with your own men?"

Enok snickered. "Heh. Stupid. Why do you care, Mendo? You've always been a selfish bastard, so what does something like this matter to you?"

Mendo looked down and said nothing.

Enok, in turn, addressed us all, "And the people you've surrounded yourself with... what the hell?"

He looked to the girl. "Why would you bring a kid into this place, Mendo? I knew I heard a girl's voice—but a fucking kid?"

He let go of his kusari-fundo and threw his hands up as he stepped away. "I have no interest in sacrificing children."

"Oh yeah?" retorted Mendo, "Is that why you helped build the Hive, because you care about children?"

"Easy now, there's no reason to start throwing around petty insults. How about we examine what you've done, Mendy boy."

Something burst through the ground on which we stood. Something covered in slime and waste matter as it squelched beneath us. I would've looked, but what Enok was about to say fascinated me; it caused Mendo to fidget.

Mendo tried to stop him, "This is no t—"

"I don't know what your kid did to piss you off," Enok began in a patronizing tone, "but gunning him down like a dog was dishonorable. Now,"—he showed his teeth—"you have no one."

Mendo lunged forward and swung his ōdachi overhead!

The sound of steel striking steel echoed out, and I waited in anticipation upon having seen the blade connect with the middle part of the kusari-fundo.

Enok held it before him to block the attack, but the sword had hit its mark.

A good portion of the ōdachi cleaved through the middle of his skull; he didn't make another move, and I witnessed red wisps escape from out of Enok's forehead. Mendo's eyes went wide in terror, and he easily pulled his weapon away as Enok shook his head, chuckling.

"Tch..." he uttered as the false wound sealed itself, "Don't you get it?"

Tentacles made of human flesh and dense, exposed muscle rapidly encircled our legs then tightened before we could react. I tried to move, but their strength was such that they kept me bound in place as I struggled and started punching wildly. Abul cursed, Scum just accepted it, and Mendo thrusted his blade downward. It slid past and couldn't pierce whatever had emerged at our feet, but Mendo didn't panic right away.

He sneered at his old friend and asked, "Why can't we hurt you? Is this a zol technique?"

"I'd say that's perceptive, but you were still stupid enough to attack me—and only because I mentioned your son. Do you really think that Ovo was ever proud of you?"

I felt something latch onto my lower back and crawl close my neck. When I reached behind me, there was this wet and bulging mess that wouldn't allow me to grip it, to tear it off.

"That's none of your business."

"Coming here was none of your business, man.

"There were Uesugi footsoldiers in this place... once. My guys were backed into a corner, with no way escape from you Meiziki creeps. We absorbed what was left of the Nagao, thinking we'd get the upper hand sooner or later. Hmm...

"But that Father you all pay so much attention to, now that is a greedy man."

The same masses enveloped my friends. Abul growled while one seated itself atop his skull.

"Because the Father wouldn't let up on killing us all, we had few options left—"

"You should have surrendered!" Mendo shouted. "We would've gladly taken you in."

"But that, my friend, is not the Way." Enok smirked in response. "We fought against you with everything we had. When it came down to the end...

"I asked them to give their all."

"What do you mean?" Abul yelled.

The creature on me was nearing the top of my head.

"Hmph." Enok stared at all of us with a blank expression. "They gave themselves so that I might have eternal life, so that I could surpass the Father. I did more than just Awaken, Mendo, I transcended my limitations to become immortal."

A blubbery mass decompressed over me as gravity pulled on it. At the base of each of them, rounded protrusions slipped over us; Mendo squirmed and pleaded, "Enok, stop this madness! W-what are these things?"

I grabbed at the one attached to me but couldn't affect it. I punched the creature, but it didn't react.

My vision was blocked with streaks of black. Exhaustion took over. I lost feeling in my arms and dropped to my knees while keeping my eyes on the one who called himself 'immortal.' He wouldn't stop grinning at Mendo with such... satisfaction.

I heard Mendo's ōdachi clatter to the ground, and I saw Scum collapse into a kneel, heaving with heavy breaths.

Enok stood tall and finally answered, "You shouldn't have anything to worry about if you have a clean consciousness."

Mendo fell over and attempted to force himself up as lines of blood ran from his fingertips. With what strength he had left, Mendo trembled while bringing his head up so that he could glare at his old companion.

"Bastard," he said.

"Don't blame me when you find that Hell doesn't exist anywhere else but right here, inside of you."

My vision went out.

8

Regret

\--

Tavon

\--

I WOKE UP IN A SMALL BED AND UNDERNEATH BLUE-AND-YELLOW PLAID SHEETS. I was in what looked like a regular bedroom and across from a short desk of wood that was before two chairs with spindled backings. To my right, I saw a picture of sailboats gliding across an ocean hanging on a wall painted blue. I rubbed my eyes and sat up as the Sun shone through a window at the far-left end of the room.

I quickly remembered what'd happened and rushed to collect my thoughts as I stood, noticing that I'd been dressed in pajamas that were covered in images of puppies. I yawned, stretched, and looked around the room for some kind of mirror. I wanted to know if this was real or if my experience growing up in the Citadel had all been a dream. My hands and arms were smaller than before. I stared at myself curiously, and then I heard him:

"Tavon! Boy, you'd better get down here after I done made all this breakfast, ya hear?"

It was his voice.

I could hear my heartbeat, and I started to sweat. At the far right of my room, there was a brown door that I assumed led into the rest of the house. I moved toward it, but my anxiety was getting bad. I gripped the door knob but felt no real strength in my hand, and more sweat coated it before I worked up the willpower to go on.

A flight of short and narrow steps greeted me in their descent down to a hallway, one decorated with another picture of a man standing behind his wife. The wife kneeled to ruffle the hair of a small boy. I proceeded, but I was confused by how happy they looked. At my sides, I noticed shallow lumber paneling that bent inward and away from my touch.

"Tavon! C'mon now—it's gonna get cold!"

My child-like feet plunged into plush, tan carpet that rose above the spaces in between my toes and felt soft to the touch. The first story's walls were made of plaster, painted white. I looked to my right and noticed a brightly-lit corridor which ended at a latticed window.

I could smell the scent of fresh eggs and bacon in the air. I didn't realize how hungry I was, that my stomach was in knots from having ignored it for so long.

I heard a fusion of melodies produced by a harmonica in tune with an acoustic guitar and light drums. It came from an old record player. The music was upbeat, cheery.

Both the smell and sound were coming from a room on my immediate left, marked by a jutting and embroidered frame. I positioned my palm on the outside of its frame and held my other hand against my heart. My anxiety was peaking again... I didn't want to enter the room with tremors. I was still too nervous because some part of me knew what was on the other side. I wasn't ready to confront him so soon.

I stepped through anyways—

Into a small kitchen. There was a marble counter at the height of my chest and prominent while in front of a blue, compact refrigerator with a large door panel at its bottom and a smaller one at the top. The fridge was only a few inches away from a stove and an older microwave; fresh toast popped out of a toaster set below a blank portrait.

"Gotdamn!" he said, "What's wrong with you today, Tavon? You seen a ghost or somethin'?"

The dining table was a small oval with a wide platter at its center. The platter was covered, and Jerik Sandeze waited impatiently, with knife and fork in hand, at the other end. He was glaring at me now, but I was speechless and unable to confidently moved toward him. He'd survived.

My life before...

The Citadel was a fantasy. None of it meant anything, not here. Not in this world.

He was seated behind another window with small, white bars; it allowed me to view the world outside:

Green. Circling the house was a garden inside the borders of a white fence. On the outside of that fence... there was so much green. Green pastures offering oak trees coupled with verdant leaves that looked vibrant in the middle of a summer day. Every field was separated by blacktopped roads intended for cruisers that didn't fly. These crafts were attached to the ground, it seemed, and they drove past us and other houses like this one. A road looped through the neighborhood, rounded in a cul-de-sac, and then continued back toward ivory manors.

"Tavon," Eze spoke more calmly, "have a seat now. I've been waiting all morning on ya."

He smiled, and I calmed myself enough to examine him. If I shuddered, he didn't act like he'd noticed. Eze's eyes were sincere, and his face was much younger than I'd remembered. He was in a white undershirt, and he rocked a plain red tie above his brown belt and grey trousers which were fitted above black, polished shoes.

Eze checked his watch, which was also grey and had an old dial rather than a digital clock, and then thumped his elbows on the table as he said, "Aren't you hungry, T? You're gonna need to get a meal in before school today—you've been studying, right?"

I slowly took a seat but didn't stop staring at him. I felt...

Happy.

I was so grateful that he was alive again. I rubbed my eyes. It'd look stupid if I cried here.

Eze.

"Well?" Eze put down his utensils, then he gave me a stern look.

"I... I—yeah."

"'Yeah,' what? Who am I again?"

"You're... dad."

"Father. Say it proper with me, son: Father."

"Father."

"Good." He nodded and continued, "Mrs. Verry tells me you've been falling asleep in her class again—that your grades are slippin'? What's this about, T?"

"I'm sorry."

I felt shame in disappointing him again. I didn't think I could make up for last time, but this was my chance. I could make Eze proud, like I was supposed to.

Eze rolled his eyes.

"No, you're not sorry. You're gonna do the same thing today and still get by with a 'B.' You're just like me, son." He laughed. "Never one to sit around in class while there's action going on—now, don't think I didn't hear about you giving that boy, Leon, a good smackdown!"

"Wha—"

"Boy, parents tell each other everything. I was worried they might come at us reckless, but ol' Leon's parents were happy that somebody did the disciplinin' for them!

"It's good to know I did one thing right—but,"—he picked up his fork and pointed it at me—"You're not a fighter. Remember that.

"I raised you to be a scholar, and I know being in grade school might not mean much to ya..." he stared at me with urgency, "but, Tavon, your success is everything to me. You don't know how much I love you, do ya?"

"I do!"

"Bullshit." He shook his head and then looked at me again. "And don't you go repeatin' that word, ya hear?"

"Yes, father."

"Now, let's get to this thing! I been waitin' all morning, son! You gotta be ready, you know? You gotta spring outta bed ready to take on whatever challenges the world's preppin' for ya, feel me?"

"Yeah, I got that."

He removed the covering of the platter. I knocked my seat back and staggered away from him.

It was—it was disgusting. I hated the sight of it.

"What's wrong, boy?" Eze seemed unperturbed, his expression conveying nothing but genuine confusion.

A women's head had been laid on the platter. Her eyes gazed into mine, revealing anguish, and fresh blood leaked from the bottom stump of her neck.

Eze reached toward her scalp with his fork and knife, and I shouted:

"NO! Eze, STOP!"

My dread was tearing at me; the tremors were in full effect. I shook and screamed, "NO!" again.

He got angry.

Eze dropped his utensils and looked down without saying anything.

At last, he spoke:

"You don't appreciate what me and your mother have done for you? After all this time, T?"

"D-dad... who is this?"

He stood, then he kept yelling, "Don't you ever appreciate anything we do for you, you rotten piece of shit? Huh?"

He strode closer to me and spat as he shouted in my face, "Here I am, having prepared a wonderful breakfast for you, Tavon, and even that's unacceptable.

"You wake up late, let your grades slip, beat up on some weak kid, and now you wanna come at me with this—THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT."

His eyes glowed red, and he clenched his fists.

"The fuck you got to say about that? C'mon, boy—"

Eze shoved me, but I stood my ground and fought back how I felt.

I said to him, "You're not real."

"WHAT?"

He tried to push me again, but I batted his hands away and repeated, "You're not real. NONE of this is real. Eze died a long time ago, and you can't take his place, whatever the hell you are!"

The color drained from him, and he stepped back to study me.

Then... he just smiled from behind dead, perplexed eyes.

"Oh, Tavon, how you've grown. If only you could see yourself now—w-why don't we just work this out, eh? We can be father and son again. I know it was hard without your mom ar—"

"I never had a mom." I said.

The head on the platter began to laugh, and red poured from every orifice as she warned me, "Don't lie to him."

What I saw was a cloud of pure black. My heart raced, I saw small fractures in my vision, my mind struggled to comprehend something that wasn't there. I was having a flashback, but one that led to nothing. My memory of all past events was gone.

When I opened my eyes again, Eze seemed shocked.

"Oh?" he said with mild vexation. "Very interesting. Somehow, you don't exist that far back."

Both the head and the one claiming to be my father appeared to all but die for a few seconds.

In an instant, Eze sprung to life and backhanded me. It didn't hurt, but the blow pushed me back some steps. I felt my anger surge; I wanted to strike him down, but I'd never wanted to hurt the real Eze. I couldn't reconcile two different emotions.

He said, "You always were human waste, son. No one wanted you, and everyone knew that you were inherently worthless. It's been that way since the very beginning, you see. Why do you think the only one who could take you in was a drug addict?"

Eze got in my face, and I smelled his rancid breath as he kept talking, "You're less than human, Tavon. You're a shit-covered maggot without any hope of a future, don't you know? You think you can overcome it, but you can't fight God when he's looking directly at you, can you?"

"What?"

Eze's eyes rolled into the back of his head. His body started to convulse. He gagged before he vomited through a disturbed smile and spat up bits of yellow bile.

He was overdosing again.

Jerik Sandeze's body collapsed to the ground and continued convulsing. I didn't try to save him.

"This is who you are," said the disembodied head. "It's your fault he died. How could you do this to your mother, Tavon? Why would you kill Eze?"

Haired branches extended from the stub of her neck, and they scrambled with insectoid intelligence as they quickly brought her upright to grin at me through three rows of small, sharp teeth. Her eyes divided themselves into the many normally seen on a spider, and she lowered her voice:

"Tavon was born to be a killer. You killed those two smugglers, didn't you? Since twelve, you've been a murderer, and a murderer you'll always be—for I've seen it, my dear!"

I had nothing to say, but I was angry.

"Did any of them mean anything to you?"

The plaster walls turned to panes of undulated flesh, flesh that inhaled and exhaled with the rhythm of a greater body, flesh wet with something resembling saliva. The liquid ran down around me, and Eze's body turned to a simple mass of pulp and blood.

Every piece of furniture changed to become a section of a unified whole. I was the only one who didn't belong in this forsaken place.

"They..." I started to say.

"They were all important to me."

"Dfari, too?" she asked in a whisper.

Her smile kept widening, feeding into unbridled joy. "Did you care when you strangled him to death?"

I couldn't keep myself from yelling, "He killed her! I-I just did what I—"

"You murdered him. Now he'll always be with you."

"No," I said. "Dfari is dead forever, and he DESERVED it."

"Says who? Did God inform you of His approval?"

"N-no—"

"Do you think you're God, Tavon?"

"I don't."

"You're a liar, Tavon."

"No!" I said but realized afterwards that it was futile.

"You're not real. This is a shitty joke, a stupid illusion from that bastard."

"Or perhaps your guilt has taken control of you, for I've no knowledge of this 'bastard.' Maybe you're the bastard, Tavon."

I headed for the exit, which was now a group of muscle fibers compressed while also revealing slits of light leading to the outside. The house windows had turned into giant human eyes that stared at me. When I tried to leave, the arachnoid demon screamed in desperation, "NO! Tavon, don't abandon me!"

I looked back at her and saw that she was weeping.

"Don't go away," she said, "please don't—please don't leave me here."

I smirked.

"Like I said before: this is all some joke. Whoever thought this up is more twisted than I am."

She scowled, showing hatred greater than any I'd ever witnessed. Such was her hate that her body boiled over with her own blood, and she shook as she growled, "You're trash, you useless, immoral boy! You're a MURDERER!"

Vomit collected in her mouth, but she continued to spit through it as she chanted: "MURDERER! MURDERER! M-murderer... M—"

I heard the head topple behind me, and a little bit of my strength returned. I felt confidence.

I knew it was an illusion, I thought. My life could never be that good.

I left my home.

\--

On the outside, the roads had been transmutated into thick veins that were fairly big in size. Every ground cruiser was now a rounded and red spirit that flowed over the peripherals of each blue canal and traveled fast through an atmosphere of bright red.

I noticed scarlet boundaries around what was once a neighborhood, and those boundaries made pulsations of their own under groupings of capillaries. There were two other houses like mine, but they were much farther away and located in separate flesh cul-de-sacs. Any other object had simply changed to resemble human bodies which no longer possessed limbs or human heads. They had no eyes or other distinguishable features.

My footsteps created streams of blood while I progressed toward a tenshu that looked eerily familiar. It was several hundred feet away, but the path there was laden in a thick slime that slowed my journey. Overhead, I saw It again.

The gaze of the Mulungu remained fascinated, in a mad way, and I already knew not to stare back for very long. Its eyes were beautifully decayed; they were bitter, alien enchantments that seemed to understand humans as much as we understood them: not at all.

The skies shone as a maroon midnight, promising that my surroundings would prevail within a sick dream. Turns out, this dream belonged to more than one person.

Before long, someone new approached. They were... jogging. Jogging. And they stopped upon noticing me for the first time, exclaiming:

"Knockdown T! My man!"

Professor Aloc Norlin was in his gym outfit and running in place, entirely unphased by this world.

"You still been training, right? You know that I can take you all the way?"

I remembered my promises to him. I remembered my desire to rise as the Champion of the Third Quadrant; in that future, I could've provided for Eze and myself way beyond what I'd ever hoped. I would've been famous, too. Respected instead of hated by everyone.

I was guilty.

"I still train, Norlin." I said to him. "I train every day."

"Good." He stopped running in place. Norlin put his hands on his hips and leaned down to address me, "Now we just gotta get you to show up to class more often, eh?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, it's just—"

"It's just that you been selling drugs on the streets, right? Doin' some shit you never had no business with in the first place?"

"How di—"

"Oh, I KNOW about those boys, T! You think I don't know, but I've always known the fate of the kids in this city—but I understand it. I get it, my man."

"You do?"

"Yeah, T..." he growled at me, "it's why you killed all those people, isn't it?

"It's why you got Eze killed, because you cared more about selling drugs than your own father, right?"

"Professor..."

"Don't 'Professor' me, mothafucker!" Aloc Norlin's entire body transformed into a deep shade of violet. His eyes looked into mine.

My mind attempted to bring me back into a time that no longer existed. It was all black again, and, every time I was brought too far back, my consciousness would return to the present.

Norlin's eyes widened. "What have you done to yourself, boy? It's not there?" He gripped my shoulders and shook me. "You have no past. You're fuckin' SCUM, like her, and you don't care about anyone else, isn't that right?"

"That's not true." I looked at him darkly.

"Oh, it's not?" Norlin crossed his arms. "Then why can't you remember, goddammit? Are you hiding it from me?"

"Hiding what?"

He looked prepared to fight. "Is this a joke to you, Knockdown? Is your past just a joke—WHY ISN'T IT THERE? WHY?"

"I don't..." I started to regain what was lost.

"What is it, T?" His mad eyes kept fucking looking at me.

"You're not real, either. You're the joke in all of this."

Norlin stepped back, then he cracked a smile. "Oh, you fool," he said, "don't you know what this is all about?"

"It's about nothing."

I stood against him, just as I had against Eze.

A crease appeared along the middle of his face and divided it equally. As Norlin laughed, the crease became greater to form a red fissure that cracked open over facial bones and ripped through the seal of his skin. His lips remained spread in a hideous grin as they parted and exposed the beginnings of a creature made of only muscle and sinew.

Another, much smaller head erupted from the shell of his skull. It was featureless, except for marbled-blue eyes that examined me while the veined mass writhed and tasted the air. From what had become a basin of blood at the entity's disfigured neck, a wet and inhuman voice beckoned to me:

"Embrace rot, human."

Without hesitating, the body of Norlin charged at me, and I responded by sprinting in the opposite direction—

Toward fields that were aglow with a deep and uninviting red. Blood flora lightly wrapped themselves around my ankles but tore from the ground as I rushed to get away from the head that now extended up and out from its original position. It lazily slithered in the air, but the body of Norlin didn't falter. I looked ahead and hurdled over a bench, one which changed and bent in a fashion that would've ensnared me had I moved any slower.

I came upon roads formed from the human-like veins and pressed my feet against their slippery, slime-coated surfaces while running in the direction of a hillside.

I heard creaking.

The beast snarled behind me, my heart tried to explode out of my chest, and I hurried up the scarlet hill. I tumbled onto the slope when I noticed small rivers running along the grassy terrain. I then scrambled to my feet just as the head of flesh plunged itself into the ground and tried to crush me!

I cracked open the nails on my hands as I maneuvered to get away from it, but this creature's movements were rapid; he wouldn't give up in his pursuit to batter me to death.

Up the hillside and onto the crest, I saw a small, red swing set being used by a young girl...

Scum.

She was lightly swinging in place and staring down in mournful silence. I rushed to grab her and hopefully heft her up on my shoulders to escape from the menace—but her arm felt heavier than a boulder.

I collapsed in placed against its resistance and managed to gasp, "Scum! We have to get out here—i-it's right behind us! SCUM!"

I got to my feet and pulled at her, but she wouldn't budge. She refused to look at me and simply kept her gaze fixed to the ground. I was covered in sweat, full of fear. My mind wouldn't obey reason. I screamed at her again:

"SCUM!"

She stared up at me with sorrow in her eyes; she was calm when she asked, "What?"

The creature was gone. Norlin had completely disappeared, and the two of us were left alone to study each other. I'm unsure of how I must've looked after what I'd experienced, but I felt amazed at how relaxed she was in this prison. My better instincts took over as I asked her, "Are you okay?"

She didn't say anything and peered at something I couldn't see.

"I'm sorry for calling you 'Scum,'" I said. "I wasn't sure if you were serious when—"

"I was serious." She wouldn't meet my eyes again. "He's right there... can't you see him?"

"Who?" I glanced in the same direction but couldn't see anything.

"Kovav."

"He's not real, Sc—h-he's not real."

"How do you know?"

I felt a pang of sadness and almost tried to reassure with a comforting gesture, until I realized how she felt about being touched in any way. Instead, I only said, "It's a trick. I was tricked, too, but that monster I saw is gone now."

"Are you okay?"

I didn't know. Could anyone feel right in a world like this?

I ended up ignoring her question and replied, "We have to leave here and find the others. Kovav's not coming back. I'm sorry."

"He's gone?"

I nodded and faked a smile.

She looked where she had before and nodded as well. She said, "He's gone."

And her eyes were covered again with blackened veins. Her jaw hung open as another being claimed possession of her mind.

It furrowed her brow and appeared amazed upon seeing me before it bellowed: "You? You're the one who brought her out of it?"

I felt rage when I understood that it was the demon from before. I was sick of demons.

"I am. Where did you take her?"

"She's safe now. I've made sure of that, but I'm more interested as to why the weakest of us all managed to break free of the curse on his own."

"I didn't." I scowled at him, feeling incredible disgust. "She helped me, and that's why I want her back."

It grinned. "You would bring a child back into the realm of a demon? Does my protection of her make me the enemy then? Do you believe it possible to protect her by your own will?"

"I hate watching you take her mind from her—she doesn't deserve that!"

I balled my hands into fists and remembered something vital about myself. I came to understand how Mendo felt when he'd hurried to protect her.

The demon issued a disturbing laugh.

It said, "There's something different about you—something that neither the other demon nor the one who calls himself Mendo is privy to. How curious."

"What are you talking about?"

I was quickly growing impatient and felt uncomfortable as my sweat turned into a frigid layer upon my back.

"Hmm. It can't torment you because there's no well from which to draw, my child. You have no history, no nuances.

"In short, what you do have is raw experience. It's filled with suffering others experience in moments whereas yours covers your short history. And, before that... heh, how remarkable. You remember nothing, and it's not your fault. But it protects you, Tavon; the Mulungu cannot play with your mind in the same way that it feeds off the psyches of Abul and Mendo."

"Are they here?"

The demon bowed its head in confirmation.

"They've been made into prisoners, like you, and they will become living detritus if nothing is done in their favor."

I turned my gaze toward the tenshu I'd noticed previously then glanced back to the demon as I declared, "We have to find them."

"One moment, for perhaps there is another way."

"Explain."

The demon's grin deepened and showed off an inherent malice that caused my insides to squirm.

It said: "You could inherit Enok's power, Tavon. You wish to become strong, don't you?"

"Not at the cost of their lives."

"And yet, Enok gave his men unto the Sacrifice. A Mulungu was called forth, and, verily, he promised a Darkened God the lives of those who followed him against the advances of the Meiziki Syndicate.

"Tavon, you have the opportunity to grow in strength and in a manner he cannot hope to. Perhaps... you should turn your back on those who view you with contempt. Mendo. Abul. Even Scum. They all see you as weak, as lesser, and they regard your companionship as a burden more than they see it as an aid."

"Hmph." I shook my head but allowed the demon to keep speaking.

"Go with me to the Root, for Enok exists in this same realm, but he has become empowered by it. If we find the Root, we may take it. I will give it to you, and, without a contract and without Awakening—as the others have—you shall become a greater—"

"Shut up." I said.

The demon sneered at me but didn't respond.

"We'll find them. They're my friends."

"How has trusting your 'friends' worked out for you in the past, Tavon? Is this really the right decision when you could choose a much gr—"

"I've stopped listening to you." I shrugged off his comment and stepped toward the tenshu, which was now brightened by a plethora of multi-colored streaks of lightning; small bolts arced in the atmosphere directly above its hip-and-gabled roofs.

I was still nervous, but my anger was starting to overpower everything I'd felt before encountering the demon. I was angry that Eze's death had been used as a weapon against me, and I was angry that the 'Darkened God' had convinced me that the vision of Aloc Norlin was real. Most of all, I was angry at myself for, once again, not being strong enough.
9

Abul

\--

Tavon

\--

I KNEW THAT GAINING POWER IN THE WAY PROMISED BY THIS SPIRIT WAS NOT HONORABLE, and I'd seen a similar mistake made by Naizo. With all that in mind, I glanced back to the demon and said, "You comin'?"

"Utter insolence." It responded but proceeded to follow regardless.

The two of us rapidly approached the tenshu, and I saw that it was surround by a network of seven smaller chambers encircling it. When I'd paced around the whole of their copper-made walls, I realized that there was no visible entrance and was addressed by the demon:

"There is meant to be no way in as well as no way out... but, you may change this."

"How?"

"Tavon, this is the subconscious world. It is a plane underneath our own, far beneath and reaching into the deepest crevices to which our collective hearts and minds belong. If you were to picture a way, perhaps a way would appear."

I pictured a door, a plain wooden door...

Nothing happened.

I looked back to the demon impatiently.

"Hmph," it sighed. "You must unburden your mind and fall slumber to reason. Allow it to spread into logical fragments. Envision a way through the chaos you yourself have created."

Due to the way he spoke, it sounded like a riddle. Although I didn't have time to simply relax myself and collect my thoughts in this manner, I let my mind break apart.

\--

I heard Eze whispering in my ear again. He said, "You're worthless. Nameless. You're a piece of garbage I should've let die in the streets. That hospital didn't need another body; they were busy enough. To take on an orphan..."

Pain seared across my head. Pain accompanied by anxiety over the fact that a demon stood behind me.

Eze's voice continued, "And a killer at that. I know what you did to those two men, Tavon. You can't hide the fact that you've always been a sick murderer. Why, you should take the demon's offer—become powerful, like you always wanted."

Isaac's voice appeared:

"C'mon, T. Do it for me, man! I fucked up in followin' Dfari, but you can make up for all that! Come find my moms—you'll be able to save her, T! Please, you gotta help!"

I heard the voice of Beatrice. She said, "I love you, Tavon."

I cried, but I didn't stop.

Dfari began to speak. I could feel his breath on my ear.

He said, "You feel better now? After you ruined my life, beat me, killed me... you feel so much bigger, huh?

"You never cared about anyone but yourself and had a stupid nickname to suit you. Look what you are now... a fucking murderer."

"Murderer." they all repeated.

"Murderer. Murderer. Murderer." the low hum echoed, and my present consciousness collapsed.

The voices themselves broke apart, and the words became: "Mer. Mu—er. Merer..."

In the recesses of my mind, I imagined the tenshu. That great tower housing one of my friends, someone I knew I needed to get through this. I pictured the blank expanse of the wall before me, an impervious barrier.

Finally, I pictured the door that I'd first seen upon waking up in this dream world. I imagined its every defect, every imperfection within the wood—

I placed the door upon the bare wall despite it not quite fitting in with the rest of the building's look.

Behind me, I heard one more voice:

"Good."

I opened my eyes and saw the door that I'd set in the wall in my mind. It felt ominous, and dark wisps reached from behind the portal.

"Go ahead," said the demon. "Pursue your own path, and I shall follow. My goal is the same as yours in the end."

"And what goal is that?"

The demon smiled and replied, "To stop Enok, of course. To prevent his dedication from devouring your city."

"Whatever."

I reached for the handle on the door, but immense heat was being generated from behind the portal. It burned at the touch, but I fought against the pain and attempted to force the door open.

"Try harder..."

I tensed the muscles in my arms to the extent that I no longer felt any sensation from the scorching handle, and I pulled it open although something on the inside seemed to struggle against me.

"Hurry!"

I rotated my body around the door itself and quickly stepped inside as it slammed behind me. Then, it disappeared. Immediately, I was given over to a new world.

A flashing aura smoldered in front of me; it shined with wild, amaranthine nebulas. These shades meshed and gave way to form a sapphire sky populated with clusters of demonic, pale stars, and the chamber I'd entered became formless, an expanse filled with an endless and spreading oblivion.

It was as if I'd stepped into a universe hid away on its own, one that held a sea of uninhabitable places and foreign beings. A great violet constellation beckoned from above, and two horned, burning eyes came to a crest in what could've been the center of this galaxy...

"Axae'nu, the beginning of a demon's life," a voice echoed.

The voice itself was a combination of discordant sounds created from instruments I'd never heard or could've imagined. It was coherent, I understood what it said, but I felt like I wasn't supposed to hear this sort of knowledge.

An orb formed below its eyes and grew to become a circular, rose flame.

The voice continued to speak:

"For we know of an infinity greater than reachable by others, yet we are tied down to a realm most earthly. Our minds span far and into realms unseeable; our power is designated for the gods, but we've taken it from them.

"Verily, we are unique amongst creation. What say ye, Abullioniek-Skuvadi Shikon? In the clutches of the universe, do you feel small?"

The flaming orb, which I assumed must be some part of Abul, did not utter a sound. His soul glided forward and away from me, and I followed it into the depths of this strange world. I strode over moving spirals below and above and watched stars glide through the atmosphere.

"Tether not yourself to one entity—one landscape, Abullioniek, for I will show thee a multitude of galaxies, a multitude of realms, more than one plane crying of its vast eternity. Remember only the infinity of midnight."

Flanking my left and right, I saw what appeared to be bright rays bubbling upward and attached to rounded protrusions of greater light, each stacked on top of each other and going on and on.

When we kept going, the atmosphere around us split and joined. It created divisions and unities in a constant motion, and energy shot out from opposing motions that formed spiked particles which stretched into columns from all sides. They expanded and began to cover us in celestial blankets that burned bright, with white, glowing bodies appearing in the distance before fading away as the color of our world deepened.

The fiery presence before me dimmed in its light and steadily came into form...

A dark, horned infant.

The universe turned completely devoid of all vibrancy, and I was immediately surrounded in nothingness beyond that of the child. I saw a lit candle in a clawed hand, and a great beast stepped out of the shadows, taking the baby in its arms while staring down at it with... adoration.

Light returned. I was in a large room with walls of granite, with no exposure to the outside other than a hallway at the back of the great figure I now recognized as Tsutsu, Abul's father.

He breathed with a deepness matching the breadth of his size as he gazed at his newborn son. I saw something wet form at the outer edge of his left eye and watched as a dark tear struck the ground and evaporated in steam.

His voice was similar to the one heard before but reverberated less and was tinged with more emotion as Tsutsu said, "I'm sorry that neither of us will be around the way we should have been. She claimed the name 'Abul' for you... a name meaning 'dubious,' and I fought her on the matter."

Tsutsu exhaled and continued:

"But, with your mother gone from this world, I see no reason to disrespect her wishes. 'Abul' she desired, and Abul you shall be: the heir of my clan. Abullioniek-Skuvadi Shikon. Your legacy will be great."

"Indeed," spoke another.

From behind him, a withered form advanced out of the dark hollow of the hallway ahead.

Muromusz.

He was in his human form as he limped toward the two of them and bared a wicked smile.

"Muromusz, why do you not reveal yourself? You are among family, after all."

"Heh.

"I work with the humans regularly, Tsutsu. You must know that it is a constant labor for me. I must uphold my form at all times, for that is my nature presently."

"To deceive?"

Tsutsu glanced back at him; his body tensed and betrayed feelings of protection. He shielded his son from the other demon with his body.

"You think so little of me. Do you truly hate humans so?"

A shrine appeared before the two of them and made its entrance in a shimmering, golden cloud, taking form as a small but ornate hut of gold that peaked in a pointed roof. At its base, there was a grey cushion surrounded by miniature statues in likeness to small Bodhisattvas. Upon closer inspection, these statues were equipped with fangs set below eyes of rage as well as horned heads. Their solid hair flowed past their shoulders, and each seem to reel back in an expression of the sheer lust for battle as axes rested at their sides.

Tsutsu stepped forward and gently placed the infant upon the pillow. He wrapped Abul in a brown cloth, and Abul reached for him, but Tsutsu reluctantly backed away, his eyes darting toward the exit.

"It was a tragedy, Tsutsu," spoke Muromusz. "There's no denying that, but Abul has survived. You have an heir who will continue the legacy of the Shikon."

"Do not speak as if you know his future, Muromusz. I do not do any of this willingly, but the humans of the Sky Nation are persistent. They are many... far more than the Shikon could have anticipated, and the war against them is bitter."

"Be at ease, my friend, for I will take all Shikon children under my care."

Muromusz said giddily, "I'll raise them to become fiercer, scarier than the humans who call themselves warriors, shoguns, and whatever monikers they happen to choose. A human is just that: a basic dreg waiting to be removed. One day, Tsutsu, the Dusk will be enough to overcome the heart of humanity, and we will press them into the soil. We'll make them serve who they rightfully should."

"This remains to be seen."

Tsutsu turned his back to us as he took his leave.

"We're losing, Muromusz."

His form disappeared as rifts shifted through the atmosphere around him and vacuumed his figure into an unknown place. Muromusz creeped toward Abul and crouched to stare at him. His face was filled with greed when he started to speak:

"One day, my child, we shall rise to conquer the Earth, for it is only the natural order of things. That which is superior dominates most.

"You don't understand this now—I can't expect you to..."

That repulsive face of his transformed to reveal a pale visage with empty eyes.

"But I will train you to become ruthless. I will mold you into the image of terror, and then the Shikon shall become triumphant in their war for supremacy."

The two of them began to fade as Muromusz cackled. I shuddered after having felt his eerie presence once more and continued walking through a very dense layer of unlit space.

Smalls bodies of light shined overhead. A red orb called me toward a vestibule, which was illuminated only by a torch on its left wall. I walked into the room, saw corridors on my left and right.

I chose the left first.

As I ventured down this passage, I heard drops of water splashing from far away. A few more steps, and this sound was accompanied by a nauseating odor. I kept myself from gagging before a door, round with the shape of the corridor, randomly blocked the way, and I nearly fell into a surprise obstacle.

On the other side, I heard someone speaking with a certain hunger; their speech was rapid.

The was a barred window in the door, at eye level, too, but there was no way to open it into the following room, and so I peeked through narrow slits to view the following scene:

Muromusz, even shorter in appearance now, hunched over a younger Abul in a room like the one I'd seen before. He patted Abul's shoulder with his hand and gestured to the human body of a teenager spread-eagled across a wide, wooden table and bound in place by his hands and feet.

"Go on now, Abul. C'mon, let's get it over with!" Muromusz lightly pushed his apprentice toward the stranger, who awoke at the sound of Abul stumbling forward.

\--

The human angled his neck upward to see what was before him, and his expression was one of confusion more than shock.

"Abul?" he gasped. "What's going on? W-why am I tied up—is this a prank?"

Abul said nothing and stared only at the curved dagger in his hands.

Muromusz became agitated. He stepped in front of the young demon then provoked him, saying, "Why won't you turn? Show him what you really are, Abul! Hurry up with it now!"

"Muromusz!" Abul looked up at him.

"What, boy? What's the matter? You're acting strange—like you don't remember who you are."

The boy on the table cried out, "Abul, get me off this thing! It's not funny anymore—I'm scared!"

Abul shook his head. "He's my friend, not your toy."

"You think that's what this is?" Muromusz pursed his lips.

"..."

Abul turned away and closed his eyes.

"Abul." The kid on the table seemed calmer. "I don't know what this is about, but you don't have to do it. Please, let me go—I know you want to help me."

Muromusz looked calmly at the kid and said, in his demon voice, "If you speak again, human, I will sever your tongue. Do not interrupt a family matter.

"Abul, don't keep yourself from the truth."

Abul's body darkened. Twin horns grew from his skull. He was his true self now, and his true self horrified his former friend. The young man bound to the table went quiet and resigned himself to shaking in place, terrified of the two demons.

Abul asked Muromusz, "Why him? Of all you could've chosen, why would you want to eat him?"

Muromusz replied, "It does not matter who or why, Abul. This is about your nature as part of our kind. This is about your ascension as a demon, because you are not human, are you? Or is that what you wish to be, Abul?"

He gathered his thoughts.

"No."

"You are Prince Shikon, the heir of Tsutsu and the deliverer of the Shikon Clan in the Citadel. Your father fought to keep your family's presence in the human world so that one day you might join with his legacy and take the city for yourself, Abul.

"If you give your soul over to weakness, then you are not a demon. A demon slaughters without mercy; he consumes those inferior to himself. And so, Abul, you will consume all lesser humans."

"Do I have no other choice?"

"What do you think, heir of the Shikon?"

The vision of all three of them faded to black, and I looked down to see that I now stood upon a wide, blue canal that pulsed beneath my feet. A ring of light was generated in timing with the pulsation, and it flowed forward from my position before repeating its emergence again and again. Intuitively, I felt I had to keep moving in that direction, to see whatever laid ahead.

As I walked along the canal, it slightly gave beneath my footsteps, which often interrupted its flow altogether. When I stepped too deeply, it throbbed and bunched up in pressure behind me. But, when I removed my foot, it burst out from below all at once. I decided to speed up, along the canal, and was sure that if I produced any missteps that I would slip and tumble toward the darkness all around me. I was not just in a house anymore—this was...

Abul's mind, a place without boundaries or logical rules that could ground an intruder. Whatever he believed here... I would be subjected to it. And so, it didn't surprise me when I finally saw an archway a distance ahead.

And, when I got closer, it emerged more clearly as a red, tube-like form surrounded by fatty excess and a bunch of smaller capillaries attached to it. There was only a black world beyond its gate, but I strode through as I understood that there had to be some way to find a safer realm within Abul's subconscious.

I stepped past the portal, and then I found myself stranded on a plateau that was part of a great archipelago encircled by a vast ocean. The sky was a rotten yellow, and, in spite of it appearing as it would in the middle of the day, there was no Sun, nothing else suspended above to offer real light. The archipelago shone instead with sapphire vegetation, and where I stood was the only circular patch devoid of it, showing plain brown soil instead.

Directly in front of me, the ground sloped upward and became pretty steep before flattening out into a much greater plateau. After that, another slope occurred and arched higher to the most elevated point of every loosely-connected island. My island turned into something of its own mountain; at its peak, clouds swarmed something I couldn't see, and so I headed toward it.

Before I'd made it to the second plateau, I took notice of my arms and realized that my body had become enveloped in a golden light that turned my once physical form into something transient. I was like a ghost in this place.

I reached the crest of the hill and found the scene of Abul, possibly only a year older, kneeling next to a long and slender pillar of stone. His hands were bound, tied to its foundation; a spiked flail tore at his back.

Holding the flail was Muromusz.

I witnessed fury in the older demon's eyes, fury so vibrant that he began to transform into his true self without being in full control.

He bared fanged teeth as he screeched:

"You are ashamed, Abul—ASHAMED! I can see it!"

Abul shed a tear. Blood oozed from multiple wounds in his back, and he uttered, "No... it's not t—"

Muromusz hefted his flail in the air and then swung its ends to penetrate the young demon's right side.

"Why. Won't. You—"

He ripped the ends out from Abul, who cried in agony and then rapidly turned into his demonic self.

Muromusz finished: "Accept what you are?"

"I do!"

Muromusz grinned smugly, relapsing into his human form.

"Your reluctance to slaughter—in a cesspool created by humans, as a matter of fact—is something Tsutsu would be ashamed of.

"Don't you know that the Shikons have given everything to succeed against the Dawn Federation? My sons are more ruthless than you are, and so I cannot justify sending you to your father without having taught you the very basics of what it means to be a demon, Abul! If you are of the D'olabadon, then where is your fire?"

He gave Abul another lashing and shouted, "Where is your anger?"

HE HAS NONE

A cloud was conjured behind the two of them, and, while Abul glanced back in fear, Muromusz stared only ahead and whipped him.

Behind them, the image of carcasses stripped of their skins had emerged. As they came into view, I could see that there were four bodies hanging upside down from meat hooks, their feet all bound together. I saw arms tied at impossible angles behind their backs as well as the peeled faces of those who'd screamed before being mercilessly executed and put on display for the demon family. In that dried, sinewy flesh, I saw eyes that had remained open, even in death. They stared off in every direction at some unseen attacker; each gaze was frozen into expressions of dread.

They were humans.

A figure shrouded in a swirling mist stepped from the center and placed his hands on the backs of those nearest to him. He leaned forward with a wicked grin, and then he echoed in a rapturous tone:

HE DOES NOT WISH TO BE ONE OF US

TO ENJOY IT

TO SAVOR REAL CONQUEST

Dejinden, Muromusz's son, inched his head closer to the human corpse on his right. He salivated before running his tongue along an area of exposed muscle. Most of the fat had been cut away, and it drew the demon's attention more than the other corpses because of this.

"Dejinden!" Muromusz shouted at him and set down his whip. "You will wait until I've given you permission."

The young Dejinden stared accusingly at his father as small clouds rushed around him:

GLUTTONOUS FATHER

HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH

"As much as I allow!" Muromusz roared in his demon voice.

Dejinden exhaled and strolled over to the closest body on my side. He tried to put his hand on the chest of a corpse belonging to a girl—

"NO!"

Fury arose in Abul, and he broke free of his bondage while rushing to stop Dejinden. "I won't let yo—"

At the same moment, a wet, breaking sound came from Muromusz as he reached toward Abul with his free hand.

The human-like arm severed itself and then pushed out from its origin by virtue of a segmented appendage. It got to be much larger than the mere body of Muromusz, ultimately becoming a hulking extremity in likeness to that of the leg of an arachnoid.

The end of it broke through what had formerly been Muromusz's hand and impaled Abul directly below his right clavicle, piercing him before it dug deep into the soil below so as to trap Abul in place. Muromusz shook with effort. His face paled as he raged, "YOU DISGUSTING FILTH. HOW DARE YOU."

A dark flame surrounded Abul, and his eyes glowed with crimson as he examined his relatives with hatred.

Dejinden snickered.

HE STILL MISSES HER

ABULLIONIEK BEFRIENDS HUMANS

HE BELIEVES IN LOVING HUMANS

Dejinden licked the body of another girl Abul's age; Abul became more persistent—

He growled, in a much deeper voice than the two of them, and gripped the arm trapping him with both hands. Abul rolled his body around it and tried to break it with the full weight of a kick!

Muromusz moved his limb upward, causing Abul to miss, and then he held the demon aloft as he stared at his apprentice in disappointment.

Abul was enraged... but helpless.

Muromusz's human voice returned for the last time; he said, "The weakest member of the Shikon wishes to rival his father..." He smiled in contempt. "Yet, he cannot ever hope to surpass me."

The scene vanished in a pandemonium of disjointed elements and swirled into further chaos before it attempted to reform into a final, living picture.

Abul stood with his back turned to me and facing the towering frame of his father. At my side, I saw Muromusz again. He'd made himself look humble and clasped his hands together while feigning meekness as he kept his head down.

Abul was wearing a dark robe. He seemed so miniscule in comparison to the giant figure of Tsutsu, but Tsutsu was not so dismissive.

He put his hands on his hips and studied his son while looking down on him as he struggled to keep his expression blank. A slight smirk broke through, and he breathed out with emphasis when he spoke to Abul:

"My son... returned to me at last.

"You remind me so much of your mother—Muromusz!" Tsutsu glanced over at the conniving character. "Are you sure this is my son?"

"Ah..." began Muromusz. He scratched his ear. "In truth, he is nothing like you."

Abul glared at him; Tsutsu noticed this and touched his son's shoulder lightly.

"Aye, I see that."

Abul and his father made eye contact.

"But the hatred inside of him..." he continued, "He has my hatred. My fury. And that's what I'd hoped for, a son who knows how to carry hatred within his heart. You'll need it."

"How goes your negotiations with the Nagao?"

"Hmm." Tsutsu gnashed his teeth. "The one who calls himself 'Elder' is not a negotiator. Neither am I. We are both warriors cut from the same cloth..." He beamed at Muromusz. "But he understands survival. Elder Nagao has agreed to make the Shikon Clan into a venerable house among his people, provided we refrain from eating them."

"Is that so?" Muromusz exclaimed curiously. "Then the weaponry you've requested—"

"Is for the Elder. Demon hands need not touch them. However... my son," he looked fondly at Abul and said to him, "the Elder has requested that you foster a friendship with his youngest."

"Who might that be, father?"

"Hmph. He is called Naizo. From what I hear, he is a brat, but Muromusz has claimed the same of you."

The image dissolved with the rush of oncoming winds, and the path to the peak of the archipelago opened. Around me, I felt a breeze propel me toward the crest of the last hill. The air grew sickly, got heavy with a lavender fog. All the sudden, my mind was sharper than it'd been before, and I felt more than just urged to keep going. I stepped through the remnants of what'd been Abul's previous memory, thinking I'd reached the end of the events his mind had obsessed over.

\--

It made sense to me now.

Abul wasn't a full demon, and he didn't support his relatives' hatred of humans. Whereas Tsutsu and Muromusz longed for our total eradication, Abul had befriended one of us—me, and he cared.

He had more reason to care for me than some members of his own family. And, in seeing what he'd been put through, I felt humbled in my own experiences.

In my case, I know that Eze never really wanted to hurt me. Muromusz, on the other hand, was a manipulative monster.

As I ascended the steep rise in elevation, I heard the wind speak to me. At first, its voice wasn't quite clear; it was projected far beyond my position and toward something obscured as the eye of a storm encircled the archipelago's greatest height. It drew me toward what looked like a cylinder built from staunch and tightened gales. They looked more defined as the skies grew darker, then I heard thunder overhead. Streaks of lighting pierced the world above this one, and a voice began to time its rhythm with each flash.

I heard it howl: Seize the Dusk!

Another step, and it spoke: Abul!

It continued repeating that phrase, and I knew that it wasn't meant for me. I was an intruder, but I was being directed toward him for an unknown purpose. It was harder to see because of the intensity of the storm, and any light failed to show the way as clearly as I might've hoped. I proceeded into the confines of strong winds, but they evaporated and gave way as I approached. When I'd stepped closer toward the hill's crest, a black twister captured me between thick, grey walls.

At the peak of the archipelago, I saw the silhouette of someone seated, a living being that breathed heavily but calmly. It heaved up and down but could've passed for a statue as it only stared ahead. Before I could step any closer, the wind blocked my way. The ground at my feet turned to veined flesh. It acted as quicksand, vacuuming my feet when I stood in place.

I gasped and pulled away, and then I hurdled against a barrier consisting of fused gusts of wind. I pressed my hands against something I'd thought intangible. At the same moment, a burst of air pulled me back—but I dug my fingers into the barrier.

I took hold of something that shrieked in my grasp!

Eyes emerged over my head and glared down at my form while I resisted being carried away. I heard it howl a second time, and both my arms and legs burned. It was agonizingly painful; I felt every part of me activate as if struck by a stray bolt of lightning—but I couldn't allow myself to let go.

The wind threatened to pull me away into that sea of red, where I would've been swallowed by Abul's subconscious, as I almost had been in my own subconscious. His world wanted to tear me apart.

So, I would have to tear it apart.

I strengthened my grip, felt a familiar energy rush, and pulled in opposite directions.

Its shrieking grew loud enough to cause my ears to bleed and force every part of me to fill up with a scorching heat, but I pressed on.

I divided the shroud in two and came to my feet just as those black orbs behind me were parted from each other. I stepped forward, and the divided fragments were sent back into the eye of the storm, then I was assaulted with a sudden vision that took me far away from that place.

\--

I was at Elder Nagao's shrine again.

I looked down...

I realized that my legs were crossed, and I seemed to be in meditation as Abul and a young Naizo bowed before me.

But I wasn't real to them.

I was a statue, a statue that watched when Naizo turned to Abul and said, "Now that Mendo's gone, it looks like the real successor can claim the title of 'Elder.'"

"Heh." Abul raised his eyebrows and scoffed, "What makes you think your father won't choose somebody else?"

"You don't believe I'm competent enough to rule?"

"I'm not s—"

"Mendo may have been a capable warrior. Awakened. Powerful..." Naizo smirked. "But he was not what anyone would call a real man."

"What do you mean?"

Naizo narrowed his eyes. "My father has told you all one thing, but he has not revealed the truth of the matter. Mendo did not leave of his own accord—actually, you could say the Elder showed a semblance of mercy toward him."

"Toward his own son?"

"If you only knew. It's not his power nor his arrogance that posed a problem."

"Get to the point, Naizo. It's far too early for your pretentious ramblings." Abul sneered.

Naizo stared ahead, at me.

When Abul didn't join him, I knew he couldn't really see me; but, after thinking for a minute, Naizo said:

"Mendo is a man's man, and my father saw to it that he resigned gracefully rather than be forced to execute himself."

"That's a thing you do in the Nagao family, is it?"

Naizo replied, "I'll admit that it's an outdated custom. Hmm...

"In the Sidogush Kenna-sori, it's written that we're meant to be aligned with a sect of the Sidogush that's a bit more superstitious than the rest. Rather than paying attention to immediate threats, we believe that the gods are all around us, at all times."

Abul stood up abruptly and shook the dirt from his robes. He frowned and looked skeptical. "Your 'Sidogush' permits execution?"

"Kayakandi Sidogush," he elaborated, "The Way of the King says that 'Enemies of the Way must commit seppuku.' Mendo should've done the honorable thing. He should've killed himself if he couldn't best his disease."

\--

When my mind returned to its present state, I awoke in a room inside of the tenshu from before and realized that I was at the height of the tower. There were windows to the outside, arranged in slanted positions but with a dark fog covering them. There was someone sitting in a wooden chair, but a black portal appeared above us and caught my full attention. It opened and spewed an inky substance with enough weight to rapidly spread down the surrounding walls and envelop us in a silent darkness.

A grey light arose to shine on Abul, who was seated upon a flaming throne, just as I heard a voice that didn't seem to come from any one direction.

This time, it wasn't his father's...

It felt like it was made from the sounds of scattered pieces of music, sounds I'd never heard before or could put into words how they made me feel. The voice came from a different world, and I still believe that it was probably the Mulungu who spoke, specifically, to Abul:

Thou could become a king

Thou could become the pride

Of all demons

Abul, strike down thy oppressor

Abul confronted me as darkness fell away and was absorbed by his body. He transformed into his demonic self and approached with slow steps.

I called out to him, "Abul! Wake up!"

His eyes were glowing, but his mind had abandoned him. I tensed myself and got into a defensive stance. I wasn't sure if he'd possess my mind, like he had others, or prove himself stronger by merit.

Abul spoke, as if outside of his body, "I'll become the greatest pride of all demons—and every other known being.

"The Shikon Clan is destined to rise and claim the Citadel! Do you hear me, T—" his voice broke off, and he stopped, becoming human-like yet again.

Abul looked around in confusion, and he muttered, "T-Tavon? Wha—where am I? Where's Muromusz?" he exclaimed.

Abul eyed me with hostile desperation. I watched sorrow begin to cloud his face, then he furrowed his brow while trying to recall something important.

Half of Abul was just a dark silhouette. His neck retracted, and he glared at me as he growled:

"THE UESUGI WILL FALL, THE SHIMAZU WILL FALL, AND THE MEIZIKI WILL BE SLAUGHTERED!"

I stepped back to prepare a strike. It was time for me to act—to move first!

Scum appeared between the two of us. It'd seemed the demon in her her was absent, for now, and she grabbed Abul's hand as she spoke, "Wake up, Abul. It wants to trick you."

She stepped away as the darkened part of the Shikon Prince evaporated. Abul got to be deeply vexed.

He fell to his knees, focusing again on something he couldn't say.

The possessor demon resumed control in a flash, and it said to me, "Your willpower here was unexpected. I did not expect you to make it this far."

Abul remained lost as he shuddered and gripped the back of his head with his hands.

"What's happening to him?"

"Hmph. The abominations you saw in the Dusk... Tavon, they were those who fell too deeply into the curse of this world.

"We are buried in a much greater subconscious mind, influenced by the presence of the Mulungu. It has selected Enok to carry out an objective only It can understand, and so we have been left to die. The Mulungu is torturing us until our bodies dissolve."

"What?" Abul was aghast when he looked over at us, "This is all an illusion? The here, the right now? –But..."

He shook and fought to keep himself from sobbing.

"Muromusz is still alive—that bastard is still alive!"

"Abul!" I shouted and strode toward him. I stopped and smirked as I said, "We'll get him, too. After this."

His efforts to compose himself increased a little, and he erected his body straight before he sighed heavily.

Abul said, "I'm sorry. It felt like I couldn't get out. You and the girl were the only ones who could save me from... that.

"It was horrible, Tavon. It was bliss, but it was a bitter, souring bliss that only felt worse and worse as I stayed."

"Like he addicted you to what you thought was a better world for yourself?" I said, remembering how it felt seeing Eze alive for the first time since he'd passed away.

"You were trapped as well?" Abul looked at me in disbelief. "How did you break free of it?"

"I don't have much of a past..."

Abul smiled. "You being an idiot saved you. I know it!"

I sighed, "I'm just stronger—"

"Shut up." Abul glared at me as I shrugged.

"Tavon, you now have a choice."

"What do you mean, 'Tavon?'" Abul exclaimed, "I'm obviously going to lead—"

"Tavon. The one without memories will help me decide. And so, Tavon,"—Scum turned to face me fully—"you have a choice: you can hurry to Mendo and waste more time degrading in the real world, or you can abandon him here."

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You may choose to let Mendo fall here. Follow me, and I will grant you the power to assume his former position. This could entail much, Tavo—"

"I'm not doing that."

The demon paused, then it said, "If only humans were reasonable. Don't you know that Mendo would abandon the two of you without thinking about it?"

"And that's why he chose to try to protect you, right?" Abul scoffed at him.

The demon said nothing in response, and so Abul continued, "Where do we find Mendo?"

The demon left Scum's body long enough for her voice to return as she led us outside of what had become an ordinary house. No longer did a tenshu scale the atmosphere as a haunting abode, and, in its place, I saw a house like my own.

We followed Scum to what'd possibly been a massive, violet tube that was now flattened to match the image of a contorted road. Searching north of it, blood spires dotted the landscape, which itself had changed to appear as reddened and cragged earth seeping its lifeblood.

The Mulungu overhead observed us as we proceeded into the silence, and I was more disturbed that no living thing dwelled in this area despite its population with what could've been basic skyscrapers.

Scum pointed toward the easternmost part the legion of blood spires and announced, "There."

We picked up the pace until we came to archways of entrails that sought us with small fibers which held a magnetic attraction. The land below became broken concrete and funneled seven roads through different alleys and corridors of a city that looked almost the same as the one we'd viewed in the waking world.

The only difference was each spire...

Each seemed to breathe, as if their individual structures carried a fire that seethed higher when they inhaled. We turned a corner and strode past a lamp post adorned with a rotted head, and a light shone out of its mouth to brighten a pitiful face on our left.

I inspected the face, at the center of a spire, and, although it didn't immediately move on its own, I felt that it was alive. It was horrible: it showed misery through wrinkled skin, a black void for a mouth, and hollow eyes that stared outward and in no real direction.

I heard a voice. Something like a whimper:

"I wonder if they remember me..."

Behind me, and somewhat in the distance, another accompanied it:

"What I wouldn't give to get out—oh, what I wouldn't give! To be free like these others—these frightful, rotten ingrates with no souls! What do they know of real suffering... What do they...

"I—where am I?

"Please, I want to wake up."

I heard the whispers of more lost souls and felt an uneasy sensation run along my spine before my neck experienced a slight tremor.

"C'mon, Tavon."

Abul and Scum were staring at me.

"Do you hear them?" I was too astonished to continue.

Scum nodded and frowned. "They're what we would've been if we'd stayed, Tavon. That's why we have to keep going."

"Hmph." Abul folded his arms. "A D'olabadon demon would not become like that."

As we pressed onward, Scum replied to his declaration with a hint of smugness, "Says a demon who's still locked away in someone else's head."

"Not for long..."

A fire burned in his eyes.

We all had a reason to hate Enok.

The next area glowed with a blackness that seemed impenetrable. It obscured everything, including the blood spires and streets that abounded in every direction. We came to a four-way stop and noticed smiling masks covering the stoplight facing us.

"This is the last normal place before we cross over," Scum said.

"Where will it take us?" I asked her.

"Hmm..."

She contemplated my words.

"We'll pass through a fissure."

"Fissure?"

"Mhmm. The reach of the Mulungu is not as far as It wants, and Enok's mind is broken. He only lives with the memory of what he once was, but that's all he has."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

She grinned eerily and led us toward the black fog.

"My friend tells me a lot of things that I don't understand, but he knows what needs to be done. Once we pass through the darkness, I'll sense Mendo again.

"His heart is strong but not enough by itself."

The ground shook.

Something impacted the concrete from far away, and every street trembled again under a great weight. By the third convulsion of the earth, it began to sound like the footsteps of a giant animal...

Footsteps that grew closer as the world around us reacted to their power. I looked at the nearest blood spire and observed as it teetered with each impact.

So many voices howled in unison; they screamed: "He's here! He's here!

"He's marching through. He'll kill us—eat us."

The sound of those footsteps got louder, and, suddenly, we knew that some titanic monster was on its way to find us. Just over the peak of the farthest spire, I spotted the dark and immense silhouette of what could've been a gargantuan shoulder pass by as whatever came our way stomped through the city.

Scum grabbed my hand, urging me forward, "It knows we're not supposed to be here, Tavon! We have to hurry!"

She sprinted, and so did me and Abul, but I asked after her, "Will we be safe from whatever that is? Is it Enok?"

"I don't know!" Scum cried and lost her composure. "But we have to get away! We have to run as far as we can from it! Please hu—"

I hefted Scum up onto my shoulders and sprinted, with Abul beside me, into the cold blanket of midnight.
10

Memories Of The Nagao

\--

Tavon

\--

WE PASSED THROUGH THE DARK VEIL AND STEPPED INTO WHAT LOOKED AND FELT LIKE AN ENTIRELY NEW WORLD.

Before I'd seen what the others had, I turned my gaze toward the darkness from which we'd arrived and stared into the shape of a massive, hairless head. I could hear its breathing, and it hulked while concealing its horrendous form in the shadows. It no longer chased us, but it noticed me examining it before the giant opened its eyes and beamed circles of stark white from behind a maw protruding with gnarled fangs.

Thick clouds haloed the monstrosity's face, and it disappeared without making any other movements, just like that.

"Tavon." Abul nudged my shoulder and brought my attention to brand new scenery—

I found another private world.

\--

The ground at my feet was tan and cragged before succumbing to thick sheets of ice layered above murky waters. A few feet beyond a winding pane of ice that formed frozen tributaries, the three of us noticed heavy snowfall confined to a tundra that would've appeared endless had it not been for steep mountain peaks that flanked our east and west. Between them, there was a valley.

"What is this place?" I asked Scum, knowing by intuition now that she'd a better understanding than any of us.

"I'd like to know as well." Abul turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "It's not... cold, but it feels as though it should be."

"Hmm." Scum stared at the ground and slid her foot playfully along the ice. "Is Mendo a stranger to you?"

"Huh?" I exclaimed. "What does that—"

"Tavon." She looked at me earnestly. "Why do you think that thing stopped following us?"

"I... because this isn't that thing's world?"

"Right." She nodded. "It can only move through its own home—"

"And that home is Enok's mind?" Abul said to her.

"Mhmm."

"So... we're currently in Mendo's mind?"

I was taken aback by the sheer breadth of the tundra and even more shocked that I couldn't truly feel what I'd imagined would've been awful temperatures.

"This will be the hardest." she said and then swallowed before continuing, "A place like this... it's empty. Cold, dead. There's no hope here, Tavon, but I want to make sure he's okay."

"I can hear someone speaking." Abul chimed in, "It's faint, but it sounds like rambling."

"From where?"

He pointed toward the valley, and so we headed on through.

We walked with trepidation between the expanse of two hills that got fairly steep in their ascents. The terrain was patchy, some of it covered in snow while other areas revealed a greater river that had long ago been frozen over. We journeyed past decrepit oaks lined in parallel rows and to the end of the dead river before steeling ourselves as we climbed a spur on the right after Abul suggested that we alter our course.

The three of us came to the crest of the spur and began to walk among undulating hills that spread out below a sky cursed with a permanent sheen of sapphire. Precipitation turned frequent, and I found myself covered in flakes of snow that I couldn't feel. I looked toward the skies again to seek out the Mulungu; my fascination for it wouldn't go away.

But all I could see was the silhouette of a moon that looked on as we persisted.

The path back to the hell from which we'd come was now far from sight, maybe unreachable by this point. We were stranded in hills that seemed to never end, and I felt my breath get heavier as I kept going and tried to forget how it felt to have a solid meal.

"Are you sure it's this way?" I glanced at Abul and already knew that my desperation was obvious.

He nodded but seemed just as grim. "It has to be."

"I can't believe that this is the world he would want..."

"No." Scum shook her head while she trudged up the next incline without complaint. "It's not by choice."

"I don't understand. My dream world was made from my memories of... —of my father. Abul's was of him becoming a king. And yours..."

"Do you really presume to know all of us so well?" She smirked and appeared much older than me for a brief instant.

Even without the demon's presence, there was a spark of genuine wisdom that showed itself behind eyes that had seen too much.

"I just don't get it, is all."

"It's okay," she said. "Mendo probably wouldn't, either. It may not be the world that someone would want, but it is his world, Tavon; it's the only existence that's relatable to him. This is how Mendo sees his life."

"It's lonely." Abul said.

"He doesn't act this way around us."

Scum frowned. "How would you expect him to act? I'm surprised the two of you couldn't see it, couldn't see him."

"He's not a very open p—it's louder now. Finally." Abul closed his eyes and smiled.

"Is it him?" I exclaimed.

"Yes. His words aren't entirely clear to me, but I recognize him as the speaker."

"Is there anyone else he could be talking to?"

"There's no second voice, Tavon. He's by himself. I'm not sure of his condition, but his speech is picking up now."

"From where?"

"Hold on!" Abul glared at me.

We'd both become visibly perturbed. Scum snickered at his frustration.

Abul held his head down and gritted his teeth. He focused for a few silent moments before he turned his eyes to us once again and choked back a surge of emotion.

"It's unpleasant," he said. "We have to hurry."

Abul pointed toward the northeast, and I sprinted ahead of them.

\--

It wasn't long before Abul caught up—

"You're fine with just leaving her?"

Abul grumbled, "She's in the hands of her guardian. A demon but with more power than I can own up to."

"I get it."

As the falling snow got denser, blurring my vision, it was Abul who spotted it first: an outline slightly jutting out as part of an overtly rounded formation. A dark passage emerged before I could pass up its entrance.

It was a cave, a humble den that exposed itself only by its peculiarity in contrast to the world outside of it. I looked deeper in and saw the way it shined...

It held rays I didn't understand, but they beckoned with images I couldn't perceive. They drew me in, and Abul stopped me before showing real concern.

"Are you okay?" He nodded at me like I should already know how to respond. I guess it was more for him than for me.

"Yeah," I said, "let's get to Mendo." I returned the gesture curtly, and the two of us walked through the portal and with Scum trailing behind.

After we'd entered the cave and covered some ground, the scenery around us changed again.

The light expanded into a dead blue, and it splattered illumination of our surroundings in a thick coat. What I'd believed were grey stones turned to ice.

Seconds later, and we were flanked by an icicled passage, a new ceiling an inch above our heads.

We could see a hall carved immaculately from ice and that the ice itself seemed smooth, unjagged. There was no lighting past a bright glow shivering in the walls of the corridor and radiant enough to display a wooden sword on the ground. It laid in the middle of the hall and before a subsequent passage across from us.

The demon in Scum spoke with a rapturous growl: "Do not tarry. Take up the memory!"

"The sword?" Abul raised his eyebrows.

The demon barked, "Yes—but not you, demon! Tavon must do this in our place."

"I won't let you keep speaking to us like we're your slaves. I especially won't let you disrespect my name!"

"Easy." I said while putting my hand on Abul's shoulder.

The demon collected its thoughts, and, in a softer but angrier voice, it warned, "All Tavon has to guide him are his memories. There was no light in his past, but he's claimed something from that. Of us all, personal memories wouldn't affect him in the same fashion they would us."

I stepped out of their conversation and moved to pick up the small but delicately-hewn sword. I gripped its makeshift hilt, then I brought the weapon up just as the hall darkened except for a bright area shining right over the next passage. It flickered into existence, sparked anew with greater intensity, and the ice wall was filled with a reflective transparency.

It had become a mirror.

The mirror to a memory that all of us had been made to watch regardless of who'd taken up its corresponding sword. The wooden objected glimmered, then it vanished after a lapse in my own memory.

It felt like something out of a dream, like I'd just imagined having picked it up and triggered this chain of events. I looked back to ask if I'd been hallucinating, but both Abul and Scum were gazing into the haunting mirror and watched something in awe.

If I joined them, I could hear mangled sounds. But, as I kept focusing on the broadcasted image above us, those sounds got clearer and fused in my mind to the extent that I could understand them.

I heard two children laughing to the loud thuds of hollow and blunt weapons colliding. The image before me had started as a mixture of disconnected forms before it came together in a vision that was far too real. It was like I was watching another universe.

Truthfully, I was looking backward in time, before I'd been brought into the Citadel as a kid.

\--

The first memory unfolded:

A young boy with dark hair swung to deliberately strike his enemy's weapon using one hand. He had a gentle but focused expression, and he clenched his jaw, tensing just before completing his next move so that he wouldn't actually hurt his opponent.

She was his age, which looked to be about eleven, and she panted while trying to land a hit. Her auburn hair stood out and spread into a wide crown around her head, and her freckled face turned scarlet when she tried to fight past her opponent's defenses.

"Mendo!" she said, "Stop taking it easy on me—I am of the Vina-moto House, don't you remember!"

"Right," Mendo blocked another of her advances, but he cringed while using both hands this time. She pushed him back and thrusted toward his stomach!

Mendo caught the end of her weapon, then he pushed it down before it could pierce him.

He smirked and said, "The Vina-moto are an honorable family, but they didn't claim their place in the Citadel, did they, Aolo?"

"You jerk!"

Aolo lunged and stabbed the air in front of his chest just as he leapt away from her and chuckled.

Aolo charged.

Mendo calculated her next moves as he brought his fake sword over his head and aimed its end in her direction.

His opponent slashed toward his neck, and Mendo swung his weapon downward, pushing her sword-arm away with enough speed to knock her back. Aolo was staggered, then she tensed while she anticipated what would be a devastating strike!

But Mendo sidestepped her. He began to leave.

"Stop trying to make me hit you!" he jeered.

"Stop running away from me." Aolo said.

"Stop being a coward."

The two of them abruptly halted. Their expressions froze for a moment, and they slowly turned their heads toward a much older man.

He rocked a short ponytail and was dressed in a blue yukata paired with a white hakama. I looked at him briefly before recognizing who it was:

Elder Nagao.

A younger Elder than I'd remembered but one who made himself twice as fierce as he barked at the two:

"WHAT SLOPPY FOOTWORK."

His voice was gruff but youthful; his eyes, on the other hand, spoke of a maliciousness buried within as he closed in on his son and scowled while looking down at him.

"Have you forgotten how to fight properly, Mendo? Why won't you hit her?" He gestured in Aolo's direction.

"S-she's..."

"She's what?" he inquired, "Your friend—a woman?"

"The first. She's a friend, father!" Mendo responded with an eagerness to please.

"Oh."

The Elder slowly brought his hand up to scratch his beard as he stared off into the distance. His eyes retained a haunting anger. I was familiar with that look. I didn't know from where, but I'd felt this kind of dark intent in the past.

Elder Nagao gripped something he'd kept hidden behind him and brought it forward.

He struck Mendo in the cheekbone, then he thrusted its end into his son's abdomen, causing Mendo to fall to the ground. The Elder stepped closer and simultaneously waved off Aolo before she could advance to protect him. He turned back to his son and ignored her presence altogether, leaning over Mendo as he lectured him:

"Do you think it matters to a warrior what the enemy looks like? Their clothes? Their demeanor? You think that's how the Nagao have honored their legacy in times past?"

"No, father! I—"

The Elder swung his wooden sword and battered Mendo's nose. His son curled up, shielding his face.

Elder Nagao shouted, "You will learn to be a real man, Mendo. You've not followed the Way, and I suppose the Gods of the Way have chosen me to discipline you in all manners proper. Furthermore, you will not speak back to me—anything you could say would be of no relevance.

"My son, a male member of the Nagao, cannot truly understand anything until being made a true representative of the Way. Do you understand what this means?"

The image vanished in a cyclone of polychromatic auras, reformed, and revealed to us a younger picture of Mendo:

Mendo, at maybe six years old, was trying on clothes left behind by a woman. I thought that it might've been a private escort of the Elder's, but I noticed pictures of her in a carpeted chamber. She was a family member, Mendo's mother.

He didn't totally comprehend what he was doing. Mendo put on an oversized dress and stared at his reflections in two mirror panels that formed the doors for a wardrobe. He tilted his head to one side, like he was trying to figure out why he'd never seen his father wear anything like this.

And his father appeared.

At the door. In the darkness. Breathing audibly and failing to mask great rage.

He was much angrier than I'd remembered. This was a side of the Elder I'd never witnessed.

Elder Nagao didn't step through the door. Instead, he penetrated the air with a deep, vindictive tone:

"What are you doing, Mendo?"

Mendo tensed and paled.

The door opened slowly, and the Elder stepped through the shadows to approach his son without visible emotion. His consternation was obvious, shown through the tightening creases in his forehead, and I noticed a bead of sweat run down the side of his cheek.

"Don't you know who you are?" he asked without expecting a response.

"Father!" Mendo stepped back and shuddered in fear. "I—I didn't kno—"

Elder Nagao punched his son. He knocked him to the ground.

Mendo sat up and cradled his bruised face before beginning to cry. His tears only fueled the Elder's anger. He spat on his heir.

"The Nagao are MEN, Mendo. We are not cut from the same cloth as others who would call themselves 'men.'

"The Way of Sidogush: The Kayakandi Interpretation: Verse 3: 'For it is better that a man impale himself than to break his honor over his carnal love for another who is as himself.'

"The Nagao must fit the mold that Vicar Kayakandi set out for us and because we are what we were born to be, am I wrong?"

"No, father—"

"You must think so."

Elder Nagao ripped the dress off his son and then pushed him into the closet's panels without caring if the glass shattered.

It didn't, and so the Elder followed by backhanding Mendo to the floor and standing over him as his indignation continued to brew.

"I'll burn all of your mother's dresses," he said.

"I made a mistake in keeping her remnants... a sentimental gesture that's also not of the Way. Yes, I've to burn everything."

He frowned.

"The dead do not stay with us, Mendo, they pass on. A true warrior—a true man—he understands this. Do you understand this, Mendo? Are you a Higher Breed of Man?"

"Y... yes." Mendo whispered

"What was that?"

"Yes, father!"

The vision changed its composition, and the three of us were left standing and watching as Mendo's memories exposed themselves out of chronological order. As colored rays intersected and blended on the canvas above us, I thought I heard sobbing echoing faintly. It was deafening by the time the image had finished sorting itself out.

We saw something despicable.

An unlit path was ahead, and we felt compelled to move into the den's embrace with only the sobs of a stranger to accompany us. A light shone down, and I was shoved forward as both Scum and Abul stood back and away from a memory that felt as if it had cracked my skull.

\--

Mendo, who was now about eleven or twelve years of age, was with Elder Nagao in a dark room and standing before a door illuminated by one hanging lightbulb.

"It's all prepared, Mendo."

"W-what do you mean, father?"

"Hmph." Elder Nagao grinned. "The ritual that will take you into manhood, where I need you to be. It's your birthday, isn't it?"

Mendo stopped shuddering long enough to stand up to his father.

He said to him, "No."

Mendo looked away and shook as he continued, "I won't do anything you ask. Not anymore."

The Elder moved closer and had to stoop over to keep his gaze fixed on his son.

"She's in there," his voice got quieter.

He grabbed Mendo's shoulder, who gritted his teeth and promptly pushed the Elder.

Elder Nagao resisted easily and tried to throttle him—his hands reached for Mendo's throat, but he switched from attempting to choke Mendo and swung his fist instead.

I thought Mendo had expected it, but he stood still as the Elder struck him.

"Father..."

Elder Nagao sneezed and uppercutted Mendo in his stomach; he swung upward again and punched his son in the jaw, which sent the boy to the ground. Mendo tried to crawl away while still facing the Elder, and he cried, "No! Father, don't make me do this!"

Elder Nagao withdrew the ōdachi on his back and hefted the great weapon with little effort. He grunted with a sick satisfaction while leveling his sword at the height of Mendo's head.

"It is my duty, as the head of the Nagao, to train a worthy successor," he said, "and I absolutely refuse to have a man in my house who does not display manhood appropriately."

"But I am strong!" Mendo pleaded, "You said I was set to Awaken at any time! I'll be the perfect successor—"

The ōdachi flashed, and Elder Nagao delivered a long, shallow cut along the side of Mendo's face.

He snarled, "Deception. The son does not deceive the father, but I may deceive you in ways that will make you stronger, Mendo!"

He cut Mendo again and from the opposite side.

Mendo shouted, "Wait!" and stepped back before his father began closing in with a thrust aimed toward his midsection.

Mendo sidestepped; Elder Nagao stopped mid-attack and shifted faster than his opponent had expected, and the senior warrior sliced a deep gash across Mendo's chest. Mendo fell to the ground, a small stream of blood running from his torso's right side. The Elder threw his weapon with all the strength he had to the ground at Mendo's feet, then he proceeded to kick him in the head.

Elder Nagao stepped forward and picked up Mendo by his robe. Before Mendo could say anything else as part of another effort to reason with this man, his father headbutted him and broke the boy's nose, but he refused to let go as he quietly judged his son and uttered, "You will take your friend, Mendo.

"You will take her and prove your manhood by producing another heir."

He slapped his son.

"Or do you wish to continue on a path made for those unfit to call themselves men? I won't acknowledge a successor who isn't focused on the moral health of my people."

Mendo breathed heavily in response and struggled to control his anger.

The Elder struck him again and again, and he continued to beat Mendo until the boy had crawled into himself and cried, "S-stop..."

Tears fell from his eyes. After a few minutes, Elder Nagao went over to him and demanded:

"Lay with her, Mendo. This way, you can secure the future of the Nagao Clan in the Citadel. She's been prepared; retain your honor, and your Awakening will commence shortly. I will help you!"

My vision returned when we stepped into a different world with a city plaza and in the midst of the night. Snowcapped buildings glimmered against a sky that would've felt familiar if that Face hovering above hadn't remained, waiting to consummate our doom. A series of concrete steps led into what looked like one of the Mid-City's poorer districts, but the architecture was ancient in appearance.

Adjacent to buildings constructed of steel and moa, there were statues made in the resemblance of bloated snakes with faces almost human-like but vaguely bullish in appearance. The flight of steps led down into a city center that was crowded with old shacks and huts for homes. North of the center, there arose another flight of steps up a hill that looked as though it had been encased in ice. Abul and the girl were still with me, just as shocked as I was.

"How can we cross from one plane to the next?" Abul asked out loud, "Are we stuck in another dream?"

"Something of the sort," Scum's demon spoke up.

"This is a world that grows as long as there are those who suffer. As one person becomes connected to this place, they lose everything and, at the same time, gain everything."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You will see. Of the four of you, Mendo was the strongest. His world will not be like your own."

\--

When we'd arrived at the bottom of the decline and stood in between loosely-formed paths littered with makeshift houses, we saw a young Mendo. This time, he wasn't a part of a memory or untouchable vision. He was real.

Mendo was a teenager, and his hair was longer than it had been, enough that he tied it up into a ponytail and started to take on the arrogant attitude that Abul and I had come to know. He was out of breath and looked more focused than he had when he was much younger.

"I made you into a father," said a voice.

Mendo looked in our direction and seemed to acknowledge us—until another shape stepped from behind one of the buildings to the east. Mendo approached it from far away, slowly, but with a strange determination.

"S-she died!" Mendo shouted, allowing his anger to take over. "She died because she was too young, you old bastard!"

"But you must accept the blame as well."

Elder Nagao emerged from the depths of shadows with a smile. His grin deepened, then he drew his ōdachi.

The Elder prepared to strike, but Mendo remained in stance; his footing was aimed forward, but he was weighed down by his own ōdachi, which he barely managed to heft off the ground. Despite the considerable strength needed to wield such a weapon, Mendo looked more confident than I'd ever seen. His rage wasn't so much that he couldn't smile back and tighten his grip on the handle.

Elder Nagao lunged at him. He swung down with his great ōdachi and smashed his blade upon the ground as Mendo dodged, but he recovered and turned the ōdachi midway to slice through dirt and air, glancing Mendo's side!

Mendo Awakened...

An indigo outline appeared around him, sustaining itself before Mendo's form glided with enough speed that he ducked under his enemy's weapon and used the momentum he'd built up to pivot, spring forward, and slash at the Elder's head!

The movement was so swift that Elder Nagao didn't have time to respond; only his eyes widened as he understood he'd been outmatched...

And then, Elder Nagao showed us what he could do in his prime:

A stone image of the Elder started to form, and the real Elder stepped back just as Mendo's blade collided with and chipped the stone duplicate. Elder Nagao came sprinting around the formation at a racing speed and swung diagonally at Mendo, who, in turn, stepped away and raised his ōdachi in time to absorb the next blow. The indigo light around him spread; he deftly turned the blade aside, dashing in to swing toward Elder Nagao's neck.

Two stone images of the Elder appeared, sculpted in the stance of reaching out to grab Mendo's ōdachi. Mendo stumbled, and his sword struck four stone palms.

Elder Nagao stepped in between them and crouched while thrusting forward—

Mendo evaded, narrowly avoiding being stabbed, then the Elder charged and aimed his blade for the center of Mendo's throat. Mendo showed off his talent once more:

He darted in a rapid circle around his opponent before closing in from the opposite flank.

This caught Elder Nagao off guard. He almost tripped as he spun to defend himself from Mendo's next attack. Mendo got inside of the Elder's guard and lowered his weapon to the height of his waist. He swung his ōdachi in a horizontal arc, and Elder Nagao flinched, grunting in the moment their blades collided!

The point of the Elder's ōdachi skidded across the ground when he tried to block with a two-handed grip, and he held his weapon so that the length of it ran his body.

Elder Nagao pushed upward, against Mendo, but Mendo flashed above and inside the reach of his opponent. The Elder started forming another crystallization of himself, but Mendo advanced with amazing speed—he slashed a deep cut into his father's cheek and down the side of his jaw. Mendo's blade parted flesh; it created a small divot of fractured bones before Elder Nagao produced a duplicate of himself and promptly dropped his weapon.

All images of the Elder crumbled into a gravelly dust, which would serve as a remnant to the devastation capable of someone with his power.

Elder Nagao shook with anger, took a deep breath, and then he composed himself as he sneered under a twisted smile.

"Oh, poor boy," he muttered. "You have become a man, but you will always be responsible for killing her, Mendo.

"She had your child, and you will always be Ovo's father."

His breathing slowed. The Elder continued while streams of black issued forth from his mouth and eyes:

"You'll always be that 'faggot,' Mendo, who I, as a father, had to force to sleep with someone who wasn't a man.

"MENDO," he raised his voice, and his eyes dissolved into a liquid.

A fog gathered around them. His voice filled the breadth of the world:

"YOU ARE THE LAST HOPE OF THIS FAMILY. I MUST TRAIN YOU INTO THE LORD THAT THIS WORLD RECOGNIZES."

The ground below Elder Nagao curled upward and peeled back as a colorless shape enclosed him. He screamed; that scream turned into a hysterical laugh that was trapped within a misshapen sphere. From the bubbled mass, two nonhuman limbs sprung into existence, two scaly arms of greyed flesh.

The head of the Elder had been transfigured to resemble the muscular face of a large reptile, and this reptile was separated from its broadened body by a long neck crowned with grey formations in the shapes of small spearheads. When the beast came into full view, I could see wings that spread the depth of the bottom layer of the city but remained at its sides and before two hindlegs. I saw a tail larger than all of us combined.

A sheen of sweat covered Mendo's father, and he trembled in place as he prepared to face an unknown threat. The visage of the creature was intimidating. Its wide snares blasted gusts of blackened wind over a mare filled with jagged teeth. Its eyes were empty, exposing dark caverns which glared at Mendo, and the creature curled its neck toward him, shrieking with enough power to push him back while he stayed in a defensive stance.

"You're not my father. You're an amateur," Mendo said.

He clenched his weapon out of fear. It looked much harder for him to wield now, and he huffed with effort as he began speaking again:

"I don't have to be a samurai, old man, and I certainly won't be the successor to such a pathetic excuse for a father!" His voice faltered for a moment, but he took courage from his anger; his tone changed, "I don't belong to anyone. Do you hear me, old fool—old foolish bastard, do you now understand that no one in their right mind would preserve what you pretend is a community.

"We're a 'gang,' idiot, not the 'Clan' you believe us to be—that is not the Way of the Sidogush, that's the monster in you."

Mendo raced toward the creature, heaving his ōdachi skyward—

"I won't work for a monster and a failure!"

He swung his ōdachi, but its blade connected with what was suddenly a duplicate standing before him, a giant statue that matched the appearance of the beast. Mendo's ōdachi would've recoiled against the duplicate, but the striking of his blade produced another effect we hadn't expected:

The duplicate imploded.

Mendo's form was engulfed by a powerful flame that swept the ground and nearly reached us in its brilliant embrace. The young Mendo was incinerated. Clouds dispersed, clearing the scene, and the beast studied us. When I looked into its eyes, the world around me tore itself away. A great pain in my skull brought me to my knees. I shut my eyes as pink veins covered my sight.

When I closed them, I could see the outline of the world, but it was now what looked as if bundles of flesh had been compressed. I felt my body shake in the present reality, and I was acutely aware that this nightmare wouldn't allow me to escape like the others had.

When I was finally capable of opening my eyes, the veins from before were no longer there. I couldn't feel the pressure they'd induced anymore, and I was happy that I was free... until the dream world decided to challenge us again.

Instead of just one beast, there were hundreds upon hundreds of stone duplicates that were spread across the entirety of the city. The stone stairway ahead of us was unique, specifically, because the way up to the first hill had two adjacent columns of stone beasts which faced each other while gazing in opposite directions.

"Let's go!" Abul shocked me out of my fear, and he patted me on the back before starting ahead of us.

He smiled and said, "Let me handle the worst of it, my friend."

"WAIT!"

Someone approached us from behind; Abul and I turned to fight what we thought was another hallucination, but it happened to be an older male clad in the armor of the Shimazu.

Those within the inner circle of the Shimazu Clan rocked black helmets with silver arcs that curved down convexly and were centered over masks of metal. These masks were shaped to look like malignant spirits, with metallic teeth and facial hair represented as spiked beards of moa.

Behind the mask, blue eyes focused on us. The samurai kept his left hand on his weapon's hilt and his right on its sheath. He stared us down while covered in black, horizontal plates of armor smelted together and overlaid over a leather backing. His shoes were basic zōri (sandals), but his gait demonstrated his ability to move with purpose.

"It's not safe to go that way."

"Are you real?" I asked him.

"Real?" He loosened his grip, letting out a sigh of relief. "So, there are others in this place! A memory wouldn't ask that, would it, Milady?"

A female samurai emerged while rocking just a menpo, which is armor for the outside area of the face. Her face itself was broad but defined by two deep dimples on both sides and set below wearied, green eyes.

She carried two katanas, and another samurai, a kunai strapped to her right thigh, leaned on her for support. She was a blond, curly-haired woman. The top of her armor had been removed to leave behind a brown tunic. She looked up at us and shouted, "If you're real, then stop acting like idiots!"

"What the hell does she mean?"

Abul stomped and made eye contact with me. "How dare she call me an 'idiot.'"

His presence darkened.

"Abul, don't do anything yet."

"You have a little girl with you?" the male Shimazu asked. "Who are you people?"

Abul and I looked at each other, briefly considering answers, but we didn't know if it was safe to tell them the truth.

Scum warned them, "Don't try to trick us."

"We're not here to deceive anybody," the armored woman said.

She looked into my eyes and continued, "My name is Divacca, Lord Divacca, and I am the leader of the Shimazu Clan.

Divacca indicated the others: "This is my sister, Madame Sayeun, and that man is the last lieutenant I have who isn't immediate family, Sir Christan."

She straightened both her sister's posture as well as her own.

"We are the last of the Shimazu... The others, they were lost to this place—"

"And we still haven't woken up." Sayeun cut in, "It's a dream that never ends. The s-same memories play out over and over. They play, and they play, and it leaves us stuck in this hellhole!"

"Sayeun!" Divacca tried to shush her, but Sayeun suddenly gained the strength to push her aside while limping toward us.

"We haven't eaten, haven't been able to drink, and all we do is run! That's been our lives for however long we've been stranded here—and I-I can't!" she screamed at us, then she became quiet as she sobbed and once again edged closer.

She pleaded, "Please, strangers... if you have anything that could help us—anything—then we'd be so, so..."

Sayeun sobbed harder, and she would've kept moving had Christan not stepped between us.

He gestured to the statues and said, "It's that Thing that's been terrorizing us. When we woke up in this place, there were forty of us that we'd banded together.

"Half of the Shimazu were decimated by abominations worse than this. The current one appeared not too long ago, when we were down to ten. It was the damn statues that got to them..."

"How?" Abul asked.

"You must be one of the Nagao demons I heard talk about in that past life. Enok spoke of the one who is darkness in human form."

He bowed his head.

"I humbly request your assistance, Prince Abul of the Shikon Clan."

"Prince Abul?" Divacca's eyes widened, and her attention was suddenly directed toward him. "A demon's stuck in this place—wait, but you should be able to wake us up, right?"

"What makes you think that?" Abul crossed his arms and huffed, "You, who are completely ignorant of anything nonhuman, which is behavior exactly consistent with the nature of humans: self-centered."

"Excuse me?" Divacca unconsciously reached for the hilt of her lower-set blade.

"Please," Christan put his hand out to stop her and shouted, "we don't have time for th—"

"That means the Nagao haven't fallen if that devil still lives," Sayeun exclaimed.

"They have." the two of us said in unison.

All three newcomers stared at us for a short period of uncomfortable silence.

"You can't be with the Meiziki Clan now, can you, Prince?"

They all gripped the weapons available to them. In their eyes, members of the Meiziki were the ultimate enemy.

The girl who called herself Scum spoke:

"Why can't we keep going this way?"

Christan paused and then looked in the direction of the nearest duplicate on our right.

"They track your movements," he said. "If you step wrongly, one of them will attack you—at any time and from any distance. This entire world is deadly. They exploded on contact with the rest of us, and we've been running from that damn dragon monster since!"

"The same memories reset," Sayeun chimed in. "We watch the life of the Nagao deserter, Mendo, replay in visions. This is the only vision we can't get past."

"We have to get to him." Scum said and looked at both groups. "He's the key."

"She's right." Christan nodded. "We have to figure out a way forward."

"But, if we aren't careful..." Abul trailed off.

I grimaced, finishing for him, "we'll be burned alive."
11

Mendo's Shadow

\--

Tavon

\--

WHEN WE'D STARTED UP THE FLIGHT OF STEPS, there was one more voice that cried out:

"Milady!"

Another samurai had arrived and indicated, with his katana, a gathering storm that pulsated just above the ground. He'd either removed or lost his headgear, and all I could see was greyed eyebrows below dark, medium-length hair and above silvered eyes that clearly expressed the warrior's despair. He was inches away from the pit, but he brandished his weapon in anticipation of whatever might reach out from Hell.

The pit expanded in size and volume. A jet of black liquid spurted from the center before evolving into a stream as it gushed. The liquid turned a twilight purple before fading into a motion-filled state. It'd become like a mirror into another plane of existence, and this portal bellowed with what sounded like powerful bursts of wind whistling together.

Lieutenant Christian screamed, "Lamael! Run, Lamael!"

"It's nothing I can't handle!" the man shouted defiantly. "Just another speck of filth—"

A colossal body flew from the portal and impaled Lamael through his breastplate with a massive and narrow claw. Lamael attempted to raise his weapon, but he vomited blood as the long shape moved again, digging the single claw of a giant individual digit into stone. The bottom of it seemed to be lined with a webbing void of any coloration; it shook as if under strain from the much greater atrocity which was attached to it. The clawed digit pressed itself into the ground, crushed Lamael into metal and mashed bone, and the area beneath was quickly drowned in bright blood.

"N-no! NO!" Sayeun screamed and rushed up the flight of steps, past the first set of duplicates.

She headed straight down the center, ignoring the remaining Shimazu while they cried for her to stop. Her dread had taken over upon witnessing the death of yet another soldier, and, despite what revealed itself to be a leg injury, she hurried to her own doom.

When she'd reached the second set of steps, the duplicate on the right disappeared for half a second.

It traveled through space, faster than we could perceive, before I could process that it'd already reached her!

Lieutenant Christan ran between Sayeun and the demon, and he turned his back to the statue in order to protect her.

The duplicate burst open with enough impact to propel a burning Christan through the air and simultaneously knock back Sayeun. Christan hit the ground behind her and stopped moving completely; the middle section of his spinal column, along with large pieces of melted metal, had been pushed through and out of his abdomen. His breathing had ceased; blood ran freely from his corpse.

Sayeun was covered in soot, and, when seeing the state of the Lieutenant, she screamed and tore at her hair until Divacca came to her side. Abul and I followed, keeping Scum close.

"It's over," she sobbed.

"WE'RE FUCKED—FUCKED."

"Sayeun!" Divacca fought back her tears. "Not here," she said.

"God has abandoned us."

Her eyes wandered.

"We're not supposed to make it out of here—we've committed too many wrongs for redemption. We helped build the Hive and followed the Uesugi! We let them lead us to our demise instead of standing our own ground against the Meiziki and the Nagao!"

"Shut up!" Divacca backhanded her, then she stood over her sister, who laid on the ground meekly.

"This is it, Sayeun, we're the last of the Shimazu after what that bastard did. He threw away his humanity!"

"Who?" I asked.

Abul answered for her, "She's talking about Enok, Tavon. Don't you see the bigger picture?"

"Not exactly."

"Tch," Abul scratched his head, "they hold Enok responsible for the nightmare. They think that a human's responsible for something that only a god could be capable of."

"We have to go." Scum looked back at the growing portal. "It wants to kill us."

"Tavon." Abul smirked at me. "Let's keep going. I'll protect you and Scum if we trigger another attack."

"No!" I was quick to respond. "How do you expect to stop living bombs?"

"Heh." Abul faltered but then shakily replied, "There's a trick I've been working on. I don't want to feel useless, especially if I'm to rule the Shikon...

"So, Tavon, let me take charge on this one."

Before I could say anything else, Abul turned to the sisters and said, "Fall in line behind us!"

"Are you serious?" gasped Sayeun. "The Meiziki want us to follow them!"

"Sister, we don't have time for this," Divacca said and gripped her shoulder firmly. "We will follow them if it means getting our freedom! Now, come on!"

She wrapped Sayeun's arm around her shoulder and hefted her up before nodding to Abul.

"Demon prince, show us the way."

"Hmph." Abul turned his back and whispered, "Too bad I don't know the way."

"Let's just get up these steps to begin with," I encouraged him.

Abul didn't wait any longer—he sprinted forward without giving thought to any particular direction. I tried to catch up with him, but he was already past the fifth set by the time I struggled to climb the third with the same speed. Seeing his back the whole time was a reminder that both Mendo and Abul were leagues above me. I had to compensate somehow, but I couldn't fight an invisible enemy.

Scum held my hand on the way up, and the Shimazu sisters tried to move as rapidly as the two of us, racing against the darkness that soon covered the bottom of the city. The five of us came to the top of the hill without further mishaps, but we were shocked upon reaching the plateau.

Concrete and steel stretched out in uneven terrain and ended at an unusually charcoal-hued office building. Immediately adjacent and after this building was a large half circle that ended in what appeared to be a hyper rail. On top, of course, was a landing pad for cruisers followed by a highway that spanned the length of the valley beneath it; that valley was filled with distant skyscrapers and domed constructions. Every facility within it appeared lit up and spoke of the unknown, but their shapes loomed hundreds of miles buried in this deep and unexpected depression in the earth.

Inside of hyper rails back in the day, and more frequently now, were enclosures repurposed to fit public subways. The large beginning of the rail was meant as the entrance to what could have been another of these stations, but this world was full of illusions.

I made the mistake of walking toward a short-statured figure that was in the distance. The stranger was young and carrying a green, rubber ball.

I took too many steps, and then I saw a lone statue to the west, glaring in my direction. I froze when I realized that the demon's face was positioned to look deep into my eyes before it approached.

I'd triggered a duplicate.

My fear activated a second type of knowledge I didn't know I had, and I watched its form blink forward in short gaps of time. A terrible screech set my ears ringing; veins appeared in my vision again, and I flinched as it drew nearer.

The duplicate towered over me and only a few feet before it would close in.

I'd be obliterated.

—I blinked—

A dark humanoid stepped in front of me and almost blocked my field of view.

Black flames ignited around it before surging toward an outstretched hand. The horned prince held up his open palm and roared:

Before the duplicate could detonate, Abul's flames combined into a bulky cloud that briefly held its form—

It floated and combusted over the duplicate, causing it to explode before it could reach us, then Abul tackled me to the ground in time to avoid most of the shockwave.

I could feel Abul's body spasming, and I pushed him off me before looking him over.

His energy had been siphoned into the air, and Abul's human appearance became dominant again. He clenched his jaw and looked up at me while barely managing to utter, "I won't be useless here, Tavon."

He reached for my hand, and I helped him stand up.

"How did you do that?" I asked, feeling somewhat jealous.

Abul stifled a laugh, "Mendo and I have had some more advanced training. No offense."

"He taught you that?"

"I taught it to myself. I just generate power, the same way you do with your body, except that I can project it rather than focus it the way you do...

"When you actually do it," he sighed.

"So far, I've only been able to perform a real blast twice. It saps my strength, and it doesn't help that I'm already weak."

"Hey, strangers!"

The kid approached us. He looked familiar.

"What are you doing here?" Sayeun asked apprehensively.

"I'm Naizo," he said and bounced the ball once, "this is the home of the Nagao Clan. Say, are you here to see my father? Or is it my brother?"

"Naizo?" Abul looked at me quizzically and then addressed the kid, "Your father is Elder Nagao?"

"Yes." He nodded and smiled cheerfully. "He is the strongest warrior—next to Mendo, I mean!

"Mendo is the most powerful person I know." Naizo swallowed. "He's my big brother, but I'm not supposed to call him that around people I don't know."

Naizo looked unsure for a second and then asked us, "Have you seen them?"

"Seen who?" Divacca said.

"My father and my big brother!" he shouted. "They're the strong ones, and now I can't find them—and there's-there's..." he gulped, "these monsters everywhere.

"If I could find Mendo, I know he would help. Mendo says he's friends with demons, and I've seen him move faster than a normal person. I've gotta be strong, like him!"

"Naizo." Scum walked up to him and took his hand in hers. "Can you take us to where you were? Is it safe?"

"I... I think so." Naizo blushed.

"Naizo?"

"Yes."

"Can you remember where your brother was last?"

Naizo pointed toward the hyper rail. "I think I can find him that way, but I don't want to go out there alone. Father says we have many enemies that might try to pursue me because I'm the most defenseless. He says I'm too vulnerable because I'm not a warrior like my brother."

"Then prove him wrong."

Abul took a step closer. His expression was solemn, and I suddenly remembered that the two of them had once been friends. Since we'd killed the real Naizo, I hadn't spoken much about him to Abul.

It was here that I found out that Abul really had once cared about someone who'd developed into an egocentric idiot.

He crouched to be at eye level with Naizo and comforted him:

"I'm not like my father or the rest of my family, but I know I can still make it if I keep pushing myself. Naizo, do you know how to avoid those statues?"

"Uh huh," he said. "They seem like they're looking at you all the time, but the truth is that their real eyes are looking at certain spots. If I get too close to a spot, I know—but I don't know how I know. Does that make me stupid?"

"No." Abul smiled. "It makes you extremely helpful."

"Show us the way," Sayeun begged him.

Young Naizo looked us all over before becoming determined. He clenched his fists and said, "Okay. I'll do it."

\--

We gained access to the subway station via a two-paneled doorway and headed into a dark tunnel that seemed to be formed, in part, by steel and by a pink substance resembling the human tunnel we'd entered previously. The station extended below the hyper rail and past a sharp turn that led in a direction we hadn't notice before.

Along the way there, stone duplicates dotted the area. All of them were facing in our direction, and all of them glared at us as if they were ready to move at the same time. An explosion of that magnitude could collapse the highway, but Naizo seemed unphased by their existence and traveled on ahead.

As we followed him, Naizo moved strangely and wove a weird path in his wake. Every time he took a step, Naizo bounced the ball and would stop periodically in order to concentrate. I think he was listening to something.

"Naizo," Sayeun asked, "why do you keep stopping? Are you sure you know what you're do—"

"Shh!" Naizo held his finger to his lips and replied, "Don't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Abul was more surprised than any of us. "You mean..."

"The music." Naizo said.

"So, it's not just me." Abul was relieved to hear that. "Something's being played. It's not near. Not far, either, but it's constant, and it's been louder and quieter depending on where we step."

I tried to listen in as well, but I couldn't hear anything other than endless silence in the chamber created by the hyper rail.

"What are the two of you talking about?" Divacca asked. "None of what you've said makes sense."

"It might if you'd ever Awakened," Abul responded. "It's a different type of music—and I know you have the ability to hear it, Tavon, because you've Awakened."

"Not totally, remember."

"Well now you need to. You don't have a choice." Abul retorted angrily. "It's time to stop being afraid of your own power."

The earth shook slightly, but everyone ignored it. I could feel myself getting agitated, and I said, "If I had full control of it, then I would lead the way."

"Then find a way to get control!"

I wanted to start yelling at him, but I could tell that he was genuinely afraid. He believed that he wouldn't be able to survive this place alone; I understood that, but I wasn't the person to be relying on at that point in my life. Not yet, at least.

As Naizo continued his trail, which brought us in semicircles before we could actually move forward, I tried to focus on what the two of them had said. I listened for music, but I didn't understand. There weren't any sounds being made in the darkness, and I couldn't fake having heard anything resembling one.

Abul sighed, as if he knew, and he didn't look back as he said, "Hear the music inside first, Tavon. Once you've found the rhythm of your own soul, it may be possible to pinpoint the rhythm of the outside world...

"My companion, you are certainly no Mendo."

"I'll be better," I said.

"For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth."

I shielded my eyes from my present world, trailing behind the rest of the group. I thought that maybe, in the middle of a nightmare, I might have better access to whatever potential rested inside of me, and I listened.

I listened to the sound of my heart, beating desperately and causing my muscles to ache under the strain of accumulated stress. Although I'd worn myself down from having spent so much time here, my cardiac rhythm stayed unchanged. My heart contracted then relaxed in harmony with my steps, and my attention grew to focus on both its beating and the air that passed through my nose. I felt it fill my diaphragm, then I breathed out as my heart rate dropped slightly.

When I still couldn't hear the music, I got angry.

I was so disappointed in my lack of control that I didn't notice that we'd turned right and toward an elevation that brought us up to the top of the hyper rail. We were led out of an opening to look over the twilight, citied valley. The rail continued past statues that were now arranged in a completely random fashion and faced every direction. In the distance, the hyper rail split into a fork, and the left side led into an indefinite distance while the right ended in a stone platform set before an open field, which itself was populated with a higher platform that was sheltered by the beams of an unfinished construction as well as a temple that dominated the landscape with its size and height.

Naizo started again when Sayeun spoke:

"Demon prince, you keep insisting that your companion has some kind of 'power.' You say things like 'Awakened,' which is a word only Ridha and Enok used. Can you really be speaking of the same thing?"

"I might be, but you'll have to be more specific."

I felt worsening tension. I could see where this line of questioning might lead.

"Does this 'Tavon' also have demonic powers like Ridha and Enok? Is he the same as the former leader of the Nagao—able to make copies of himself?"

"Tavon does have similar potential," Abul said carefully, "but I can't say that I've seen the true extent of what he can do."

He glanced back at me.

"Tavon likes to hide his abilities when he can."

"That's not true!"

Divacca and Sayeun both drew their weapons.

Sayeun rested on her side and used her remaining strength to stay in an offensive stance.

Divacca held one of her two blades toward me and demanded, "You must die if this is true."

"What?" Abul, Scum, and I shared a moment of confusion.

All I could read was pure hatred expressed in Divacca's angry eyes.

She said, "Ridha was the first human we know of to touch that kind of power! There was no light in that old bastard's soul."

"I don't understand." Abul's demon form returned in full bloom and startled the Shimazu sisters—

"What are you accusing us of? HURRY UP BEFORE I RUN OUT OF PATIENCE."

Divacca started forward, but Sayeun held her back and forced Divacca to look into her eyes.

"Don't do this," she said. The dread in her voice was clear, "We need to get out of here first."

"I want an explanation."

"I want to know, too, miss." Naizo astonished everyone by intently studying Divacca.

The memory of Naizo had changed its attitude and was as obsessed with discovering the truth as we were.

Sayeun refused to look at anyone and kept her head bowed. Divacca stood tall, forcing back a rage that could've overflowed if not for the presence of Naizo as a child.

She stared ahead of us and stated: "Ridha could communicate with a creature that's worse than a demon. It was a being that only a madman could speak with, but it never wished us anything good—as you can see!"

She gestured to the Mulungu.

"What did he do, Lord Divacca?" Abul asked with an innocent tone.

"Ridha's true ability existed in his relationship with what rules over this place now. It's said that he died after succumbing to a battle wound, but he passed down something to Enok."

She paused, then she closed her eyes.

"When the Meiziki had pushed us back farther than we'd planned for, Enok summoned the demon god."

"How would a human summon something of that caliber?"

"A human saved your life once," I said to him.

Abul punched me.

Sayeun interjected, "He sacrificed his father's clan.

"He offered their lives to this creature, and it created some manner of bond. Somehow, they're attached."

"This world is made up from minds, it seems, but the human mind of Enok is the ruling component. I assume this means that Mendo's world is a smaller district in a more complicated network."

Naizo froze, stalled by what Abul had said. He said to us, "It's okay. I understand now."

"Understand what?"

He nodded and nervously replied, "W-we have to set my brother free, and then h-he can stop the enemy!"

The world around me flared and briefly displayed a pink soil below us that was packed with dense crevices which ran along the surface. I saw a crimson ceiling, lit up by striations resembling veins. I closed my eyes, also feeling veins attempting to cover them, before my body seized and brought me awake and back to Mendo's dream world.

Every duplicate we'd seen previously had vanished. The hyper rail was clear, but the memory of Naizo had disappeared.

"I see. These memories must be related to how Mendo's world operates. Because you made Naizo self-aware, it affected this reality."

"If we'd only known..." Sayeun muttered.

"There's a way open." Divacca lowered her weapon and gazed toward the path to the stone foundation. "But is it the way out?"

Abul headed forward. He refused to look back, remarking, "The only way out is at the beginning."

His form shifted back to his human appearance, and Abul sighed with effort.

\--

The area in front of the field was clear, at first.

After all of us had stepped off from the hyper rail, the highway and the city beneath it faded away and was replaced with a steep cliff that trailed down to an ocean the color of soil. The world changed, warping my reality to witness another memory of Mendo, younger than the one who'd confronted his father.

This Mendo was a kid, and he wielded an ōdachi that he couldn't carry right. He slouched and winced as his weapon slid across the ground, and Mendo found that his breathing increased too much when he tried racing around a new opponent.

A short kid with messy, dark hair covering his eyes grinned with confidence; he didn't flinch at Mendo's approach.

The boy gripped a short, wooden katana and stood in place until Mendo was closer, until his opponent swung his weapon from the side. He dashed in and thrusted the point of his sword into Mendo's chest—

Mendo fell back and then tripped when he failed to balance his weight with the ōdachi's.

"Ugh!" Mendo balled his free hand into a fist and struck the ground.

"How many times do I have to explain this to you, dude?"

The kid laughed.

"There's no point in facing me if you can't even lift your means of defense."

Mendo recovered. He gripped his ōdachi with both hands and rushed his opponent.

"Eat your words, Enok!"

Mendo slashed upward, forcing his blade across the plane of stone that served as their arena. Enok backed away and scowled, but he planned to break Mendo's guard by sprinting in after the first strike.

Mendo twisted his grip and spun his ōdachi in an arc that brought the tip of it above them. Enok didn't have enough time to stop his advance and peered up just as Mendo slashed down with a sword that ran longer than the length of Enok's body.

Enok centered his wooden sword over his head and grasped both sides before allowing Mendo's ōdachi to collide with its center—

He knew that the weight of the blow would be too much, but he pushed up and lunged to the left, letting go of his weapon at the very second it snapped.

Enok took one step closer and punched Mendo with his right fist. Mendo tumbled to the ground, dropping his weapon.

At that exact moment, the earth shook and continued to shake with the pressure of something formidable. The ocean was changing into a vast, aquatic void, and its waters turned black. I remembered the creature from before, the giant monstrosity that chased us, and I pictured something else trying to pursue me from beneath that void. If we didn't reach the real Mendo soon, we'd be facing a very different kind of threat.

The quakes came to a halt. Mendo stood without his ōdachi. He looked around until he noticed us and then turned his eyes back to Enok, "What happened? Where are we?"

Enok shuddered, seeming taken aback. "What do you mean—we-we're..." he trailed off while taking in his new surroundings as well. "Are we dead?"

"Enok." Abul approached the boy in his human form.

"Yeah? Who are you?" Enok cracked his knuckles.

"Enok, what did Ridha—what did your father do here?"

He frowned, turning pale. "What do you mean? A-are..." Enok fought to breathe and continued, "Are you telling me that he actually went through with it?"

"I just want honesty from you, Enok."

"I-I..." Enok began wheezing and trembled.

"Ridha could've used it—he could've used the Blessing of the Mulungu and become a god, but," he sniffed, "he loved me. Of all the warriors in the Lower-City, I've always had the most potential."

Enok straightened himself proudly, and his features began to subtly but rapidly age. His height increased, along with the broadness of his shoulders, and his eyes took on a hateful, deadly stare.

"I have been made into a god." he growled.

"There were the Shimazu elite; they surrendered. There were the great warriors of the Nagao; they fell. Now, the Meiziki Father insists that he is above me."

—The end of a chain slid out from his right arm—

"But I'm the best now...

"As a god, I can take the Citadel as ENOK UESUGI!"

Mendo shoved the end of his ōdachi through Enok's abdomen, and the vision of the one who ruled this world dissolved into nothingness. His sword whished through the air and clattered to the ground.

Mendo looked at our group; his attitude was blank. He asked us, "Are you lost?"

"Yes." I said.

The young boy nodded. "I see. Well,"—he bent down to pick up his weapon and grunted as he came up—"I'll try to protect you. With the might of the Nagao on your side, I'm sure we'll get through this!"

Abul smiled. "He used to be someone who looked out for other people. He was optimistic."

"I don't even recognize the Mendo we know," I said.

"Tch. Certain experiences can really change members of your species, Tavon."

"Let's go!" Mendo interrupted us.

Our group followed him up an elevated stone path. The way ahead warped into a wooden walkway that wrapped around a grassy landmass. When we reached the top, we were confronted with a wide building with black, hip-and-gabled roofs arranged in sizes that decreased from bottom to top. The skies overhead darkened, and the Face was obscured beyond recognition.

"I-I have a bad feeling about this place."

Mendo hesitated before an unusually long wooden door.

Adjacent to the door, the walls of the building were made of bamboo and hemp paper. The hunched figure of a child let a lantern hang from his grip as he sat on a stool before the entrance.

Mendo engaged him before we could and seemed puzzled when he took in the full sight of the stranger. The boy's head was covered with a straw hat, but raven locks of hair billowed over a face that wouldn't acknowledge Mendo's presence.

"Do I know you?" Mendo asked him.

The stranger slowly lifted his head.

"No. You don't," he said.

Mendo gasped as the stranger flashed a smile.

"You never cared about my future. How could you even pretend to know me?"

"What are you doing here—I thought I'd..."

"Faggot."

"What did you say?" Mendo stepped closer.

The boy removed his hat to reveal a face with sharp, distinctive features similar to Mendo's own.

"My father is a faggot."

He advanced on Mendo.

"He's a deserter! He's the reason that my name is ruined."

"Ovo!"

A piece of the real Mendo appeared:

"A man makes his own name, don't you remember?" He swallowed. "The Nagao were the weakest—staying with an old fool like that would've been our downfall."

"You just didn't want to give it up. You'll always be a sad faggot, father. The Elder would have seen US conquer the world, but you were too much of a coward!"

"A coward?"

Mendo stepped back and pondered the word. The vision of Ovo disappeared, and he turned to us in order to ask, "Do you think I'm a coward, too?"

"No." Abul was the first to respond.

"No." Scum said.

I shook my head and replied, "No."

The earth trembled, and the vision of Mendo smirked at us.

"My friends..." he said, developing the strength to hold his ōdachi before him. "I couldn't fight for that old bastard, but I can fight for people like you."

"Hmph." Divacca folded her arms. "The Nagao warriors seem like they had plenty of their own issues. Without Mendo or Rokshasa, we knew they'd fail as a clan; it was only a matter of time."

"Sister!" Sayeun nudged her. "Don't say anything that might aggravate the demons in this place."

"She's got a point," Abul chimed in.

Mendo shouted to us, "Hey! Are you ready?"

Abul and I nodded.

He forced his weight against the wooden panel that served as the entrance. Mendo grunted and shook before the barrier gave way and exposed the wide chamber of a strange dojo.

Dark, wooden floors greeted us; ahead, there was a candle in the center of the room that illuminated the form of an older man we immediately recognized.

Mendo, looking as if he were the real one, crouched over a lifeless form and sobbed quietly...

\--

Mendo breathed out and rested his head on the chest of a man I didn't recognize.

"Ovo," he said. "My son..."

The younger Mendo appeared frightened; he stuttered listlessly, repeating, "No."

"I'm not a 'faggot,' Ovo. I'm your father, but," Mendo sniffed, "I failed you. I couldn't do to you what my father had done to me; even in the end, I couldn't prevent this..."

The aged Mendo dropped Ovo's corpse and stared into the darkness as he said, to no one in particular:

"My son plotted to move against me. I couldn't honor the memory of his mother, and now I'm alone in this world."

Streams of smoke emitted from his eye sockets. His eyes glowed before turning into fiery orbs, and his body shifted to reveal a dark outline. Mendo raised his charred ōdachi in the air with one arm and turned his gaze to the sky.

"I was the greatest warrior of the Nagao Clan, and so I will live according to my ability. From this day forward, I'm nothing but a paid killer."

His form became an embered husk as he flashed before our eyes—

The older Mendo slashed down and faster than his younger self could respond, obliterating the composition of the memory as his blade cut through the air.

This violent version of Mendo searched around with a sickening hunger.

He screamed, "Do you know why I carry the ōdachi? Huh?"

He leapt from his position to Divacca's in a split second and swung his blade to the side with one hand.

The ōdachi collided with both of Divacca's swords, and a loud "clang" resounded throughout the room—

"Because I am a better man than my father could ever envision!"

He brought his sword up again. His aura beamed at the same moment that his hands flickered; his blade soared faster than the reaction speed of both Divacca and Sayeun.

Divacca managed to block with one sword overhead, but Mendo had extended the reach of his attack. His ōdachi met her one blade before pushing it down as it sunk into the top of her scalp.

Mendo held his weapon in place, and Divacca was too astonished to move. Blood ran down both sides of her head, and her eyes began to twitch.

"SISTER!" Sayeun screamed.

She rushed toward Mendo with her wide knife in hand.

Divacca recovered long enough to stab the dark perversion of Mendo in his chest. Simultaneously, Mendo pressed down with both arms and sliced through Divacca's head before kicking her body as he withdrew his blade from the opening and spun to block Sayeun's thrust.

An evil grin spread across his face, and he moved, reflexively, to kill, but Mendo flinched—

Abul was to my right and remained cross-legged on the ground as he focused his mind:

Mendo dropped his weapon.

His form started to resemble something much more human-like. Still, Sayeun hadn't given up; she impaled her knife into the top of Mendo's chest, but the memory didn't react.

Sayeun cried out in terror as Mendo contemplated her presence, then he proceeded to backhand her. He walked toward the figure of Abul. A dark light appeared at Mendo's side, forming another ōdachi, and the true image of it dropped to rest in his hand.

"A competition between two princes." Mendo announced.

"Abul, if you're in his mind right now, use what you know to stop him."

"I already am!"

"Use Ovo against him!"

"Ovo was a useless bastard," Mendo said. "He was never meant to be born, and the sight of him reminds me too much of what I was forced to do."

He scowled. "I will kill the Shikon prince, and then I will be the next Seneschal. That is enough for me."

I stepped in front of Abul and said to Mendo, "You're a disgrace to the Way of Sidogush. You'll never be able to succeed your father as head of the Nagao."

Mendo stopped to observe me.

"How do you know me so well, huh? What am I to you?"

I blinked, and he was already in front of me and with his blade leveled at my throat.

I didn't give up trying to talk to the memory. I said, "I'm the one you're supposed to train to surpass you." My heart raced. "I'm Tavon, and I'm trying to help."

"W-what?"

Mendo faltered.

Abul lowered his head and whispered:

"Ovo was your son. It was you who killed him."

The body of Mendo burst apart, as if it had never existed. Sayeun remained at her sister's side and caressed her body as she mourned.

To my surprise, Abul stayed in place and focused on someone else.

Sayeun swiftly stopped clutching Divacca's corpse, then she walked over to us with an empty look in her eyes.

"Sayeun?" Scum tilted her head.

Sayeun didn't respond.

"I gave her a command." Abul walked over to my side as we both studied her.

He continued, "An experience like that could've been too much for Sayeun, and we need as many people alive as we can get if we're going to escape this place."

"You used mind control?"

Abul shrugged. "The only other strength I have, and it doesn't always work."

"It's worked so far," I replied.

"She'll follow us until the effect wears off, and then she might be harder to guide the same way the next time."

I indicated the temple which had been waiting at the top. "Let's hurry then."

Scum went over to Sayeun and grabbed her hand. Sayeun looked at her as if she didn't understand but welcomed her touch, and the two of them walked behind us as we approached the center of Mendo's mind.

\--

At the top, the world around us was blanketed in thick snow. Everything above was occupied by dark clouds that hovered below the outline of the Mulungu.

I'd reached the building I'd once frequented when I was with the Nagao. I recalled my time with my old friends, Beatrice and Rokshasa, and I felt grief when I remembered what I'd left behind. The temple looked the same as on the day that Rokshasa was crippled by his old mentor. I was the first one to step through its entrance to discover a truth about Mendo I'd never realized.

A body sat before the shrine of the temple and was hunkered over a sizable amount of blood that spread out from its form. I watched as a man wearily moved his head to straighten his back against the wall before he started running something small and sharp across his wrists.

"Dammit... Dammit..." he muttered.

I ran to Mendo's side and then hesitated before getting too close.

"Mendo," I said, "don't."

He ran a shard of glass through his left wrist. Blood gushed—but was prevented as the skin wove itself together and into its original state.

"I can't die," he said and sliced at his other wrist, "but I can bleed."

"Mendo..." I crouched down next to him and tried to meet his eyes.

Abul was standing behind me now, just as stunned as I was.

"Mendo, why are you..."

Scum was the only one bold enough to touch him. She put her hand on his head, demanded, "Stop," and he looked at her.

"You? In this place?"

"Mendo, it's us!" I said.

He looked over at me and Abul and rose without a second thought.

Confusion and anger clouded his face as blood dripped down his clothes.

"Are you all... just another illusion? How long am I to be tormented?"

"Relax, Mendo." Abul said.

He tried to grab his shoulder, but Mendo swatted him away and picked up his ōdachi. I instinctively raised my fists, but I knew that I couldn't compete with his speed.

"I'm not going to fight you." He lowered the ōdachi.

"If you are the real deal..." Mendo smirked. "Hmm. Then I need you to remember who I was."

"You wanted... to kill yourself?" Abul gasped.

"What a disrespectful question." Mendo sneered. "Are you the master or the pupil, demon?"

Abul sighed and looked down. "My apologies."

Mendo glared at me, "Where are we, Tavon?"

"Your mind." I told him.

His eyes went wide. "What? That's..."

"It's because of the Mulungu, Mendo. We're trapped in your world—"

"And it's inside of Enok's world," Scum said with an abnormally cheerful tone.

I felt reality crumble again. My eyes showed me a wooden mezzanine stranded on earth formed from cerebral folds in a red lair, with no light shining from what was once the sky. Mendo's bloodlust had gone with the other world, and his breathing increased while his body was promptly drenched with sweat.

"W-w...what happened to me?" He stared at all of us.

"It seems you were trapped for a long time, Lieutenant." Abul smiled out of relief. "It almost consumed you."

"You're telling me that this is Enok's mind?"

"I believe so." Abul nodded. "He gave each of us a fantasy that would mean something, but..."

"I couldn't break through." Mendo expressed disgust with himself. "I'm supposed to be the teacher, and now it's my fault that I failed you."

"You didn't fail us." I said.

Sayeun was suddenly behind Mendo.

I was horrified when I noticed that she held a knife over his head, but Mendo's smile quickly reassured me.

A faint light erupted before he'd spun and banged the hilt of his weapon against Sayeun's hands. The knife fell from her grip, then Mendo pressed his sword against her throat.

He grinned wickedly, declaring, "You'll have to be faster than that if you want to assassinate me. C'mon!" Mendo kicked Sayeun to the ground. "At least give me a solid challenge!"

"Meiziki scum!" Sayeun spat. "You're the reason this all came about."

She got to her feet and readied her fists while she stared Mendo down.

"The Shimazu were pushed out of existence by the aggressive Meiziki—"

"Hey!" Mendo barked. "That's nonsense! You were given a chance to side with us, and you refused just so you could help a delusional fool doom your entire clan!"

"You're nothing but an emotionless killer!" she shouted. "You killed your own son, you evil bastard!"

"Wh—" Fury enveloped Mendo.

He stepped toward her and brandished his blade as he gritted his teeth. "You ignorant fool."

"Shut the fuck up!"

A large chain smashed through the boarded floor in the middle of the room and startled all of us.

Behind the attack, Enok crouched and grinned as he looked up at us.

"We have to go!" Abul shouted.

"We can't run." Mendo and Sayeun both turned to confront Enok. "We have to fight him," they said.

"NO."

The demon inside of Scum spoke:

"I will face the one who calls himself Enok. Though he cannot be destroyed in this world, I can give you enough time to reach the Root. Find the Root, and you may stand a chance."

Steam poured from every orifice in Scum's head, and a mass of energy gathered around her body, making the girl seem small and insignificant to what was now the shadow of the avian creature.

Dark wings blocked my view. A shriveled, feathered face with jagged teeth faced Enok. We started to run and used the demonic raven as a shelter against his attacks.

Before I exited at the rear, Enok fired his chains through the air; they morphed into a muscular extension that was encircled by veins shaped in the likeness of chain links. The bulbous appendage crashed through the wooden beams next to me and left a gaping hole in its wake. I turned away and rushed to catch up with everyone else while also realizing that Scum's demon was outmatched by Enok.

If Mendo's ability granted him a fortress, then Enok's prowess would meet the size and power of a nation.

The path ahead narrowed and angled down before becoming a hall of red. Down this hall, and deeper into the nightmare, I heard Enok scream:

"YOU COULD'VE BEEN GODS! I GAVE YOU A CHANCE AT ETERNITY, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!"

With Sayeun and Scum running on enough adrenaline to keep up, our party sprinted across soft, blood-drenched earth until we crossed through a section of pitch-black darkness within Enok's mind.

Mendo's form became alight with a blue glow, and he guided us while at the front until we came to a bridge that was composed of large parchment paper covered with the writing of an unknown author. The bridge ended in an elevated hill, which rounded out next to a tree of greyed flesh. Below this hill, there was a field of rubied blossoms, crimson grass, and multiple patches of the same strange tree.

The skies turned a fogged white, and I saw the vision of a young child traversing the sea in the middle of a storm...

\--

Enok, around the age of three now, huddled near a much larger man, who himself stood tall as he looked outside a glass orb that took up most of a technologically-advanced, seaworthy vessel. The back of it was full of frenetic wiring, articulations encased in steel, and it managed to mostly stay upright as waves continued to batter the craft.

The older man rested his hand on Enok's head.

"We will make it through this. And, when we do, my son,"—he forced Enok to make eye contact with him—"I will make a future for us in the Citadel."
12

The Root

\--

Tavon

\--

I LOST SIGHT OF THE MEMORY.

"You saw that, didn't you?" Mendo exclaimed.

Abul nodded. "Your world was the same."

"There's no way!" He turned to look at Abul, but Sayeun shouldered him out of the way and gestured ahead.

I followed after her, desperate to get to the end of this maze, and Scum grabbed my hand in order to keep up.

We descended from the hill and into a field. From our position, we looked past patches of flora to see the statue of a naked man standing, with his calves flexed, as he reached toward the sky.

Before we could journey much farther in that direction, the next tree of flesh we passed triggered the appearance of Enok as a kid. He was holding a book in his hand, and a figure clad in black and emerald armor stood over him before the stranger rested his halberd at his side.

A voice issued from the round, dark helmet and sounded metallic:

"I've given you a manual for how to survive, my warrior. No more will you endure the battering needed to toughen you into a man. You have proven resilient, Masumon, and now you must understand the Way of the Uesugi as it differs from the Way of the Sidogush."

The child who had been named "Masumon" studied the book after picking it up.

"Tch," he dropped it and looked at his father defiantly. "Dad, how will that be of any use to me? I just fight, right?" He grinned. "I never waver in my discipline. My training never stops."

"It's Friedrich Nietzsche's The Will To Power. When you begin to understand what Nietzsche contributes to the Way, you will not only have the endurance of a capable warrior..." Ridha looked up and breathed in. "You will have a mind of minds, capable of carving up the enemy with pure technique! Nietzsche proposes that those worthy may become that which is beyond. We can ascend our earthly forms, my warrior."

Ridha's image was blown apart in a breeze that arrived from all directions. Masumon looked through the pages of the book left to him before leaping to his feet and spinning to unsheathe a short katana.

He smiled at us and inquired, "Here to challenge me? Ha! What's up with adults giving their all's against a kid—I must really be the best."

"We're not here to fight you, En—Masumon." Mendo stuttered and walked up to the vision of his old sparring partner with a slight smirk.

"I-I know you!" Masumon backed away from him and let his jaw hang open.

"I'm your friend, Masumon, and I need help getting out of here."

"You look familiar, but why can't I remember your name?" He looked around and nervously continued, "Where are we?"

"Masumon, don't worry about it. Do you know where we can find your father?"

"Father?" Abul looked taken aback. "Why woul—"

"From what I know of the real Enok, he has no understanding of what it means to live in a peaceful and functioning society. That guy was raised the same way Rokshasa was, but he was always leagues above anyone else in the Nagao Clan. Enok is the product of his experiences."

"You think his father is where we need to look?" Abul asked.

"Who is 'Enok?'" the boy interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"He's a severely confused man." Mendo addressed Masumon again, "But we need to avoid him and find your father—do you think you can help us?"

"Oh," Masumon chewed on his nails. "I saw my father at that giant statue—there's an execution today."

"An execution?" Mendo raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"I ran away. I didn't want to look, but father always says I have to. He's made me into a man faster than he said he'd expected!"

As we began to walk with him, Sayeun finally spoke:

"How did he do that, Masumon?"

The group was quiet.

"How did Ridha of the Uesugi train his son to be a 'man?'"

"I don't need to tell you, stranger." Masumon retorted weakly. "Father said it was an evil thing, but that I needed it if I wanted to survive and be like the samurai of the Sidogush. They fought like heroes over Citadel territory, and I want my legacy to be like that—no matter how many times he breaks my bones or makes me hurt someone else."

His grin faded as he looked at Mendo. "That's why I'm stronger than you. I live for this."

"Hmph." Mendo shook his head. "No one's ever doubted your ability. Your sanity, however—"

"Mendo!" Scum nudged him. "Be nice."

Masumon flushed red and averted everyone's gaze.

Our group paused before the statue, and past that we saw an ocean of blood.

Five cloaked individuals sat on their knees and formed a circle around a fire. After them, and a little farther, a thin silhouette grasped an assault rifle and observed the scene.

Another figure appeared from a distortion in space. It revealed itself to be a pale, skinny man covered in a black robe. He was balding and had tied back white hair, which hung down loosely and behind a thin beard that took up his jawline and reached past his chest.

The area around the newcomer elevated into a platform of meat, and a podium the shade of charcoal emerged before the elder, who now looked as if he were a pastor. He bellowed to the group waiting by the fire:

"I have come to deliver my last sermon to you. Enough time has passed so that the eldest of my children may surpass those who would also carry my blood.

"The Way of Sidogush teaches purity in action, in movement, and in bloodline. By following the way of the warrior, the Uesugi Clan may prevail. My intention was never to use the Hive, but the creation of it has led to a life filled with beautiful women."

Sayeun whispered in my ear, "He raped them all. Ridha was a monster."

Masumon stared at her while trying to process the meaning of her words.

"With these women!" Ridha's voice rose, "I was granted more than one worthy heir. And, in accordance with the Way, I desire to make a prayer to the God who has shown favor to the Uesugi Clan, and I have presented this God with a selection of warriors bold enough to walk this earth with my blood."

Masumon seemed bewildered, but his expression hardened. "This isn't an execution." he sneered. "This isn't part of the 'Way.' It's a ritual...

"My ritual."

Mendo put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "But that's not who you think you are, right? You aren't Enok?"

Ridha continued before Masumon could respond:

"My champion is the one I deem worthy of taking the Citadel by force. The Mulungu speaks with me, and this God has granted me knowledge. I know now that it is just to ask that the rest of you show your true potential before Masumon, my oldest son. I have given you all the means to defend yourselves, and my final command to you is that you kill Masumon!"

One of the cloaked figures stood, removed his hood, and showed himself to be a much older Enok. He wielded a short blade in one hand and a long chain in the other, and his face appeared expressionless as the others confronted him and unsheathed their katanas.

"If Masumon is to be the greatest of the Uesugi," Ridha declared, "then he must overcome and destroy his objective with no remorse!

"MASUMON!" he screamed in his son's direction, but the warrior refused to speak and remained fixed on his siblings.

"SURVIVE, MASUMON!"

"My name isn't 'Masumon!'" he growled and swung his chain through the air.

"I am 'Enok,' and I will kill you all."

They rushed at him. Enok raised his sword before the entire image dissolved and exposed only the stranger waiting next to a long rowboat.

"That's not me..." Masumon said. "That man... he looks like me, but I don't kill people."

"Enok is the one who kills people then?" Mendo asked.

"Yes." Masumon said, "But only because father asks him to. He said it was to make him stronger."

Scum began to seize and shook before her eyes disappeared and were replaced with those of another spirit.

"We're out of the time!" The demon had returned. "The true Enok is too powerful for any of us."

"How did you survive then?" Abul said.

"Fool." the demon replied, "I was never free to die, and some part of me remains within the soul of the little one. You cannot understand until you've seen the Truth."

"WELCOME." the stranger said.

We witnessed a dark shadow that wore human clothes.

It was faceless, but it retained an oval-shaped head that was shielded from view by a straw hat. The spirit relaxed and held its assault rifle with one hand as it lowered the firearm to its side.

"Who are you?" Abul tried to guard our group by stepping closer.

"I REPRESENT A BARGAIN.

"A GREAT EXCHANGE WAS MADE, AND THE RESULT BENEFITTED ONE. ENOK STRUCK A DEAL, AND HE SURRENDERED HIS COMRADES IN ORDER TO INVITE A GOD INTO THIS WORLD. I AM THE FACE OF JUDGMENT, AND IT IS THROUGH ME THAT YOU MAY REACH YOUR DESTINATION."

The Ozeuutse'ik, also known as a "Bargaining Spirit," gestured toward a boat that was forged from steel and hovered over the ocean of blood via small propulsion jets at its bottom. It was shaped in the likeness of a long rowboat and so pretty vulnerable to outside elements.

The Bargaining Spirit continued:

"THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE ISLAND OF RIDHA, TO THE TEMPLE OF SIDOGUSH, WHEREIN RIDHA HIMSELF RESIDES AS ENOK'S MENTOR. THIS PASSAGE IS KNOWN AS THE WAY, AND THE WAY REQUIRES THAT A SACRIFICE BE MADE FOR THE FUTURE."

"Is this another part of Enok's mind?" I asked Abul.

He glowered. "It could be, but remember that beings hailing from the Mulungu's world can be involved in the nightmare. Figment of his imagination or not, we have to take this spirit seriously."

Mendo looked up from contemplation. "What is the 'bargain' you propose to us?"

Abul caught my attention and delivered a message that joined with my thoughts: Masumon is the part of Enok that doesn't wish harm on others. This spirit could be another manifestation of Enok's guilt.

I nodded but couldn't respond as the bargaining spirit began:

"IF YOU TAKE THIS VESSEL TO RIDHA WITH MY BLESSING,"—it held the assault rifle to its chest—"THEN I WILL PROTECT YOU."

"What should we be wary of that we would need your protection for?" Mendo asked.

The spirit warned, "THE WAY IS RIDDLED WITH MEMORIES OF THE WOMEN RIDHA MOLESTED AND MURDERED. THEY ARE LIKE DEMONS WHO RIDE THE SKIES ABOVE. IF THEY SENSE YOUR FEAR, DEVILS WILL DESCEND UPON YOU IN FORCE AND DEVOUR YOUR PEOPLE.

"THERE REMAINS ANOTHER OPTION..." the spirit paused and then turned its head toward Masumon.

"SURRENDER THE BOY'S LIFE, IN THE HERE AND NOW. SURRENDER HIM TO MY WEAPON, AND I SHALL GUARANTEE YOU SAFE PASSAGE."

"Are you serious?" Sayeun exclaimed.

"IF I ACCOMPANY YOU ON YOUR JOURNEY, I WILL PIERCE THE SKIES WITH BULLETS AND STOP EVERY DEVIL WHO DARES TO TOUCH YOU."

It rested the rifle across its shoulder.

"IF YOU TAKE THE BOY WITH YOU, I MAY ONLY WATCH OVER YOU FOR A SHORT TIME.

"YOU MUST MAKE THIS CHOICE BEFORE THE REAL ENOK ARRIVES."

Sayeun looked at all of us and firmly stated: "We have to take him. We can't accept a deal with some part of Enok's mind!"

"Ha!" Mendo confronted her and gripped the hilt of his weapon. "I don't need more spirits to help stop Enok. I can do that on my own!"

Abul stood by Mendo. "I agree. The memories of the people we witnessed before could turn into monsters. 'Enok' was the identity created by Masumon to cope with murdering people at a young age, and, eventually, Enok took on the role of the dominating personality. If Masumon and Enok are two separate personalities of the same person, then who's to say that this memory of Masumon won't become a monster as well?"

Even I agreed: "If the devils it talks about prey on fear, then the girl would be at the most risk."

Scum walked Masumon over to Sayeun's side and, to Mendo's shock, demanded that we take Masumon with us in spite of our low chances of survival.

She stared at Mendo and spoke up: "Masu is our friend. You should learn to treat people better, Mendo."

"Some of the memories of Mendo tried to help us reach him—Masumon could be the key!" Sayeun interjected.

"Why would you, of all people, have any reason to defend the spirit of your enemy?" Mendo smirked.

Sayeun stopped and pointed her dagger at him as she raised her voice, "Because Enok is the one who caused this, and I will do anything to get to him!"

Sayeun stepped around Scum and swept down with her right arm to bring her blade less than an inch away from the girl's throat. She smiled malignantly at Mendo and shouted, "You will listen to me! You'll do it because you killed my sister, you stupid bastard!"

A tear formed at the corner of her right eye.

"What are you talking about?" Mendo scowled and radiated blue. "I've been a prisoner, the same as you—ugh, never mind." His gaze darted to Abul. "Make her stop."

"One moment."

Abul closed his eyes and produced a dark light as he searched for Sayeun's mind...

He gasped and made eye contact with Sayeun, who smirked.

"She's resolute." Abul said. "Trying to enter her head now is like beating your fists against a stone wall. Sayeun's hatred aids her quite a lot."

"Tch. Impossible." Mendo shook his head. "A demon of your kind can't penetrate the mind of simple soldier? You're too young for this sort of stuff, Abul."

"Be quiet." Abul grumbled and crossed his arms. "You try, if you want."

"Hmph. My technique is better anyways."

He bore his eyes into Sayeun's, and, briefly, I believed that she would break. Mendo's face became a mask of leering rage, but she was expressionless.

Mendo frowned.

Sayeun grinned wider.

"I don't know what you're up to," she said, "but I feel you trying to corrupt me, and I won't let any member of the Meiziki Clan believe that they're worth my time."

"Tough talk." Mendo suddenly had an idea. He looked to Scum. "And will the demon allow this all to happen?"

"He will." Scum replied and astonished me. It was still her speaking and without the influence of her inner demon. "I'm siding with Sayeun, and nobody else can tell me what to do."

"Does the demon not fully control her?" Abul asked Mendo.

"Hmm..." Mendo closed his mind off and thought for a while. "Something's not right about this."

Masumon stood between us and kneeled before Mendo.

"I promise I'll do everything I can to help you stop father! I-I didn't think that he would do such horrible things to the world. Please, let me take back my honor!" Masumon pleaded.

Mendo kept his eyes closed and relaxed his breathing.

The tension eased. Sayeun stood straight while still holding her knife near Scum.

"Fine." Mendo said and immediately dropped his guard.

The bargaining spirit spoke:

"CONSENT FROM ALL IS REQUIRED IN ORDER TO COMPLETE THE BARGAIN."

"There is no bargain." Mendo said curtly and headed toward the craft. "We will spare the life of Masumon and have him guide us to Ridha.

"Everyone, follow me."

Abul was right behind him, and I followed my friend into the red ocean. Sayeun exhaled and laughed as a way of expressing her relief.

At this point in his life, there was no telling how fast Mendo could move, and Sayeun had taken a gamble by challenging someone with a sword almost twice her size.

Out of all of us, she was the smartest.

\--

As we boarded the vessel, the bargaining spirit uttered:

"VERY WELL. MASUMON'S LIFE WILL BE SPARED, AND I WILL REMAIN ON THE SHORE UNTIL I GROW WEARY OF THE WAIT."

After Sayeun had climbed into the back, we realized that there was just enough room to sit down and enough space to somewhat maneuver inside the craft.

Mendo looked back and asked, "What 'wait' are you talking about?"

Without any input, the vessel began to move across the ocean surface and in the direction of bloody skies, which were lined with streaks of light shaped in the images of lightning bolts; these bolts resembled tears falling through the atmosphere.

"WHEN THE CLOUDS OPEN TO THE MIND OF THE ONE WHO FEARS THEM, A FEAST WILL BEGIN.

"THE SHE-DEVILS WILL RAIN DOWN UNDER THE VIGILANT EYES OF A COLOSSAL ABOMINATION. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU ARE SUFFOCATED UNDER THE TIDE."

It continued to stare in our path and eventually turned its gaze upward as land became more and more distant from us.

"This was the right decision," Sayeun remarked. "If we can get Masumon to the center of this nightmare, I might get a chance to kill Enok and avenge the Shimazu."

"Heh." Mendo sneered. "If you weren't powerful enough to stand against me, what makes you think you'll stand a chance against Enok? It's not like he's sympathetic to children or anything."

"There's enough of us here to overwhelm him!"

"No." Mendo shook his head. "I'm afraid that might not be true."

"Huh?" Abul was stunned by Mendo's humble attitude. "Surely three of us could get the job done."

"We have no idea of Enok's true power—and we won't know until we leave this place and return to the real world."

"You're so weak-minded." uttered Sayeun. "You stayed behind and let Enok control you. He made a world out of your thoughts, and now you're quick to let him stay superior? Are you really as talented as your father believed?"

"Would you like for me to show you again?" Mendo didn't meet her gaze and simply stared off into the distance.

I was positioned in the middle, and, behind both Abul and Mendo, I was able to see the beginning outline of a landmass on the horizon.

As the skies got cloudier, I sensed that a storm was gathering around us. It grew cold, and small droplets of red started to pour down at infrequent intervals. Everything was now some tint or shade of red, and the atmosphere felt haunting, as if thousands of eyes were fixated on our forms. All the while, we glided through calm waters.

The earth shuddered, and Sayeun narrowly avoided losing her balance. Her breathing quickened, then she examined the blood ocean.

"If one of us falls in," she asked out loud, "would we be lost or left to something beneath the waters? What if there are not only devils above but devils below as well?"

"Why would you waste time worrying, human?" snorted Abul. "You are the only one here who feels threatened."

"I'm scared, too." Scum interrupted.

Scum couldn't stop herself from shaking, and Masumon stood next to her while taking hold of her hand.

"It's going to be okay," he said.

The clouds parted; a strange form appeared and hung suspended in the sky for a minute before seeming to remain in place as its image grew larger and larger.

"We could be trapped between demons..." Sayeun trembled and didn't notice as something horrible started to close in.

"Don't let yourself panic," Abul warned. "The more you do, the more you put us at risk."

"It's not her!" Scum began to cry, and Mendo shouldered us out of the way to stand over her.

"Little lady," he said with his back turned to a creature covered in scales, fur, and pale skin.

Scum's eyes widened, and she urged Mendo to focus on the devil.

"Keep calm," he said. "We'll get you to safety once we leave th—"

"Mendo!" Sayeun screamed.

The face of a terrified woman, a long gash on her forehead, looked out at us from below the beginning of a broad jawline. Her scaled mouth issued tentacled prominences that were topped with yellowed teeth. Above the jagged appendages was the bridge of a snout that held three pockets which served as nostrils located ventral to dark sockets glowing with thin, vertical, and red slivers of light.

A series of greyed human hands—some with claws, some partially dismembered, and some small and feminine—reached toward the nearest person on board, and the rest of its body soared behind it, a mass of black fur that terminated in a cloud that gusted toward our craft.

Most of us were blown back upon the creature's arrival, and it produced an abnormal shriek that cut through the air and caused me to freeze in place. This demon, which I now know to be a kamaitachi and that was made in the likeness of one of Ridha's female victims, raced toward Mendo and extended a claw before he could react!

A series of bullets recoiled off the side of the creature, and it screeched prior to ascending without having struck its intended target.

Mendo readied his blade and stood on guard as the world around us quickly got hostile again. From where we'd previously left, the bargaining spirit remained with its rifle aimed in our direction.

"NOW," we heard it bellow across the expanse, "I WILL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR FATES."

A gale of wind wrapped itself around the spirit's form and partially dissolved before taking the Ozeuutse'ik in its embrace.

The rest of us turned focus to the clouds above as three more forms descended and steadily grew in size, just as the beast had before them.

The next landing was still a good distance away...

\--

Sayeun panicked and began to tear up.

"We're being punished!" she screamed. "We recruited addicts to create profit and helped our clans murder to increase our territories. We're meant to die in this place—don't you see? This is Hell. It's all a joke."

"Enough!" Mendo yelled, "You're causing them to appear!"

He gestured toward three more shapes that emerged from the demonic vortex.

The earth shook a second time.

I was knocked to the ground as the boat trembled in response to the earthquake, and Abul helped me to my feet—just as the two of us noticed Him in the distance.

Enok was behind us and had been stalking our boat with one of his own; he was on his way to meet us once again.

When Scum also became aware of his presence, her fear caused additional monsters to head in our direction.

—Mendo's aura surrounded his form—

"Okay," he said and relaxed as his initiative increased. "Abul and Tavon, consider this a short lesson."

He lowered his ōdachi and grabbed the far end of the blade with his right hand.

"Exceptional speed is a small part of my greater understanding of celestial energy. It is this energy that grants me the power to move much faster and the ability to sometimes manipulate the brainwaves of my opponents, depending on their mental states."

Mendo transferred a portion of his aura to the ōdachi; his weapon glowed with a faint, white light.

"Another manifestation of this energy can be seen through creation. Personally, I can create one replica of the ōdachi I always use, but there's another dimension to this talent."

The veins in Mendo's hands seemed to strip themselves from his flesh and pressed against his skin as his body shook with extreme concentration. Sweat formed at his brow, and Mendo clenched his jaw as the pale light condensed and grew in magnitude at the point of his blade.

Within a few second, the ōdachi shriveled in width and slowly extended in reach. When Mendo had finished, his blade glimmered at an even more intimidating length, and it was heavy to the extent that he needed to widen his stance and rest the ōdachi at his side. In that position, Mendo resembled himself as a teenager, when he'd struggled lifting his chosen weapon.

Mendo grinned and said, "Although it's not something I'm especially skilled at, I can modify my sword to accommodate different fencing styles."

His eyes flickered in the direction of the nearest incoming beast.

"When facing an aerial enemy," he said, confronting the kamaitachi with renewed confidence, "I'll need length to compensate for lack of reach."

Mendo crouched and positioned his blade even lower so that its hilt came close to touching the ground. The kamaitachi, baring the faces of two enraged elderly women, flew at a racing speed and swiped toward Mendo with massive paws covered in thick fur.

Claws came at Mendo directly, and his body gave off a small light before it flashed forward.

Mendo's body glided through time, and he tilted the thrust of his ōdachi to the right as he dashed inside of the kamaitachi's arm—

He tore a long canal into flesh that gushed brown particles, which whisked through the air and behind Mendo. Mendo withdrew his blade and spun so that he could rotate completely and slash the side of the kamaitachi's body!

It shrieked and launched itself into the heavens, but a second kamaitachi was upon us in seconds.

Mendo landed and sprinted while holding his ōdachi with a reverse grip. This time, he held the hilt at the level of his eyes and kept his blade low, diagonal, and to his right. When the next kamaitachi entered his field of vision, Mendo flashed again and closed the distance between them! He slashed upward, and his ōdachi bluntly collided with the hard exterior of the kamaitachi's true face. His blade bounced down, hard enough to throw Mendo off his feet, and the steel would've stayed caught in the beast's flesh if not for the sheer weight of the weapon.

Mendo tumbled as the creature's form floated over us and returned to its point of origin, then several more kamaitachi emerged and in greater numbers. It seemed as though dozens of them were lunging in for our position.

A small quake started and sustained itself with enough force to gently rattle our boat.

"What are we gonna do? What should we do, Mendo?" Sayeun shouted. "We can't possibly take ALL of them!"

Mendo brought the hilt of his sword at the level of his chest and held his blade out in anticipation. Sapphire sparks emanated from his body.

"We're warriors, aren't we?"

He looked to me and Abul—

"Are you ready?"

I had no way to defend myself, but Abul nodded and responded for us:

"We've got this."

"Good." he said. "No matter what, protect Scum and Masumon."

"Wait, Mendo!" Abul shouted, "We shoul—"

The next kamaitachi arrived with a twin.

The earthquake got stronger, strong enough that all of us were fighting to keep our balance.

One kamaitachi swiped at Mendo but brushed through air as Mendo used his ability to fly under the strike and thrusted his sword into the creature's underbelly. His blade pierced its flesh, but... nothing remained inside except for the empty cloud that trailed behind it. The kamaitachi reeled away and just as the second bore down on Mendo:

Mendo spun and held his ōdachi in front of him, in a diagonal block, as the beast pursued him head on!

The mouth of the kamaitachi opened and expanded to more than encompass the tall height of Mendo, and its swirling appendages writhed before thrusting toward him. Mendo rotated his blade around in a complete circle, with such speed that each toothed end rebounded off his blade, and he was able to dodge as the kamaitachi bit into the space where he would've been killed had he not reacted in time.

Another of its hands unexpectedly reached out in an abnormal way and sprang toward Mendo—

Mendo gasped and defended his face by slashing at the creature's muscular limb. The ōdachi caught in the kamaitachi's grasp, and I watched in shock as the long blade was torn from Mendo's grip and instantly thrown into the ocean of blood.

Its shadow faded quickly, and Abul stood back as he realized:

"It's a bottomless ocean. Once something falls in it, it never stops falling."

\--

Mendo looked forlornly across the ocean, like he was still searching for his lost weapon.

"There's not enough time to make another one."

He clenched his fists and looked toward another kamaitachi that wasn't so far away.

"Pupils!" he said to us, "Now you will witness what should be your last defense available if the odds are stacked against you."

Mendo positioned his legs at the length of his shoulders and faced the next monster with impressive resolve.

"My energy is uniquely linked with my speed and ability to wield a particular weapon. I am at my most capable when wielding my ōdachi, but there is also energy that can be used for basic combat."

The kamaitachi bit the air where Mendo had been, but his speed had already carried him to the side of the devil.

While still anchored to the boat, Mendo generated enough speed to jump and hover in the air above the kamaitachi as he came around and thrust his foot above himself:

—SHINTE: UPEPO KICKS—

Mendo's voice boomed the name of this technique, and spectral silhouettes flowered around a central body that spiraled through the air and rained down a series of radiant kicks on the kamaitachi appearing from all directions.

Time was shattered as different instances of Mendo flickered into existence before delivering the same kick to a different section of the kamaitachi army. The image of Mendo crashing his heel down into a beast's body multiplied itself until each image returned to its original creator, and Mendo descended toward our vessel once more—

The kamaitachi howled:

"SON OF RIDHA, PERISH IN THIS PLACE!"

The quaking from before had built into something much more significant as the entire universe began to tremble. I heard what sounded like earth cracking open from a faraway place, and the kamaitachi continued their assault while Enok slowly lurked toward us. The island ahead was coming into view and was populated with a series of mountains gathered around a midpoint.

The next two kamaitachi flanked Mendo on both sides—with the creatures now aware of his prowess—and they closed in without hesitation!

Mendo glowed and hopped atop the head of the one on the right—

He leapt from it, spinning through the air before he landed upon a higher kamaitachi on his left. Mendo radiated with light and launched himself even higher into the air as both kamaitachi homed in on him and chased him farther upward.

Mendo reached back with his right arm, then he chanted as a fierce wind gathered around him:

—SHINTE: UPEPO PUNCH—

He punched downward.

An explosion of wind energy followed and blasted into the two kamaitachi as fragments of Mendo's power scattered across the atmosphere. Both creatures were blown back by the impact and fled just when a kamaitachi larger than any we'd seen before reared its great head and aimed its body toward the vessel instead of any individual target.

"Hurry!" Sayeun screamed. "It's coming!"

After Mendo had touched the ground, he panted and darted away so that a small whirlwind couldn't encircle him. The wind became dense and tightened into a wall that obscured his form until Mendo sent a punch ahead of himself, catapulting a fist manifested from the energy of the tornado—

—SHINTE: UPEPO PUNCH—

This attack was much more powerful, and the impact of such concentrated energy slammed into the kamaitachi and directed its path toward the water.

When several kamaitachi had soared under our vessel as a result, the effect of the blood ocean applied enough gravity to cause them to plummet into bottomless depths.

Three more kamaitachi appeared at the rear of the vessel, and Mendo cursed as he turned to confront them as well.

He glowed, but his energy quickly faded, and Mendo fell to one knee.

"Hey!" Scum shouted while hurrying over to him.

Mendo waved her away and fought to catch his breath.

"I-I'm already running out of steam." he said and then chuckled.

"If someone doesn't think of something quick..."

The first kamaitachi reached out for Scum with one claw and screamed in joyous glee as the predator felt its victory fast approaching. Sharp appendages sailed through the air, and—

Abul tackled Scum at the last possible moment.

He held his arms out, and they surged with power. They bulged grotesquely before Abul cried: "DIE!"

A black mass expanded at the beginnings of Abul's forearm joints and moved down to break through the skin in the middle of his palms.

The area around his hands was immediately darkened, and a maelstrom of demonic will imploded in the direction of the kamaitachi:

His burst of strength transformed into a spear that tore through two of the creatures' bodies and sent them plunging into the blood ocean. The third kamaitachi was only stunned, however, and it swiped toward Mendo while flying near to the center of the boat.

Mendo ducked in time to evade bladed claws, but the beast changed its target and slashed Sayeun across the side of her head, tearing away a large chunk of flesh from her scalp and gouging her right eye.

Sayeun fell to the ground and uttered a shrill scream as the wooden flooring filled with blood, matching our background.

Masumon and Scum were paralyzed in fear. They huddled behind Mendo, who himself was slightly shook. He stared at Sayeun in dread of what was to come.

Suddenly, Mendo lost his balance to a harsh, sudden rupture in the earth, and he stumbled to the side of the boat as the kamaitachi gathered into a group that circled above.

Abul trembled. Both of his forearms had been harmed due to his last attack; skin bulged and formed neoplasms that bulged out from Abul's arms and pulsated. With each pulsation, his hands twitched, and his body was engulfed in a grey flame.

"L-looks like I've overdone it..." he said and faked a confident smile.

Abul's face was emaciated; he'd been drained of any defense, which left it up to Mendo and I to fight the remaining kamaitachi.

I went to stand by Mendo's side, but he scowled at me and ordered, "Stay back. I'm the teacher, remember?"

He smirked.

"If anyone's going out first, it's going to be me, right?"

"Wait!" Abul exclaimed.

The repeated earthquakes created a hum that sounded both near and far. It was a thunderous noise that spanned hundreds of miles and perhaps the entire world contained within Enok's mind.

"They stopped attacking us for a reason. Don't you feel that, Mendo?"

"I do." He nodded. "It's staring us right in the face. It's tremendous pressure, like a giant hand against my chest."

A black island appeared on the West horizon. It wasn't there before, but it was getting bigger and becoming much taller as we progressed.

The kamaitachi began crying in unison:

"KILL MASUMON! KILL MASUMON! KILL MASUMON!"

What was once an island now emerged as the mane of a great being. Long and black hair ran down a giant, featureless, and obscured face. A body rose from the ground; a titanic entity extended into the heavens. The giant's limbs hung down, right above the waters, and they carried a chain—much like the one wielded by Enok.

The colossal demon appeared as if it had turned its full attention to us and hesitated.

A low-pitched bellow resounded as the giant echoed a strange, exhaling noise. The giant dropped his chain, then he moved to swing it back with one hand.

"You can't be serious!" Mendo gasped. "Is there no way that we can live? Did we make the right choice?"

"We should kill Masumon now!" Abul insisted and turned to face the boy. His body shook abnormally, and he limped toward Masumon—

Until Scum stepped in front of him.

"No."

Sayeun stood, facing the giant and with her back to us. Blood still trickled from her head, but her rage had overcome any pain she felt.

"The Shimazu were betrayed, misused, and our legacy has ended because of this stupid fool! I despise the Meiziki Clan and Mendo, but Enok has made himself lesser than that. Enok is the one who deserves to die."

Her body shuddered, and Sayeun's voice increased to an enraged pitch:

"Enok is the one who really took my sister, and I won't let him have his victory. I will DESTROY Enok!"

One of the kamaitachi soared away from the flock and headed straight for us. Its eyes seemed fixed on Sayeun, and its mouth slowly expanded—along with millions of jagged teeth arranged in a complete circle.

It continuously screamed: "EAT THEM! KILL THEM!"

Sayeun was red all over. Blood jetted out in small spurts from her wound as her rage broke through yet another barrier.

Her voice resonated and split into two pitches when she continued:

"I loved Divacca, and I loved the Citadel...

"But I made the wrong choices. Today, I'll be the samurai the Shimazu Clan demands!"

The kamaitachi was joined by two more of its kind. They caught up just in time to charge at Sayeun in full force, then the three of them screamed and clawed at her from meters away!

"IT'S TIME!" Sayeun shrieked, and an enormous wave of blood burst from her head.

It crystallized in the air as an immense wave, and that wave pushed through the ranks of the kamaitachi and sent them spiraling into the depths.

When Sayeun confronted us again, her body was aglow with a dark red aura; the injury to her head was now burning brightly, and her face lacked any definable expression.

The giant behind her swung its chain upward...

If it made contact, everything we'd done would've been in vain. We would die on the spot.

I looked up to see the colossal chain dropping from above. We'd made it much closer to the next shore, but the width of those chain links was enough to encompass both our position and a small part of the approaching island.

Sayeun smirked at Mendo.

She said, "Fuck you, Meiziki trash!"

And then she shrieked again:

Sayeun sprayed her blood overhead until it formed a crystalline, concave dome.

One section of the great chain smashed down atop the shield, and Sayeun stood to absorb the impact. Both the sound and the force of the blow traveled from the dome and through connecting bloodstreams that led back to Sayeun—

Once their combined vibrations reached her body, her arms rapidly became blood red crystals, and the rest of her followed suit. Sayeun continued glaring at Mendo, even until the end, when her real face became an unbreakable replica, and her competitive hatred was sealed into a statue.

The giant uttered a noise resembling disappointment and sluggishly dragged its chain back. The kamaitachi overhead dispersed, perhaps sensing that fear was no longer present in any of us after having watched Sayeun sacrifice herself.

"She had an Awakening..." Mendo looked down. "But it was premature. This is one of the ways it manifests when someone becomes the host to too much power at one time and without the proper experience."

Our boat sifted through sand and onto a beach that ended in a forest of trees perspiring blood; they retained a rose shade. Behind us, Enok approached and appeared as if he could dock at any time.

Mendo paled when he noticed this, and then he urged us all to head toward a grey statue that loomed over the rest of the island. Masumon rode on my back, and Scum rode on Mendo's while Abul struggled to keep up with us. The longer Abul continued to move, the more despondent he got.

When we'd entered the forest, Masumon climbed down and said to us, "I'll take the lead from here."

"Are you sure you know the way?" Mendo asked. "Don't waste our time after everything we've gone through to get this far!"

"I'm not." Masumon replied angrily, "The woman died because of my father. He has turned Enok into a dishonorable monster. I will go to my father and explain that Enok must be stopped, at all costs!"

Masumon didn't wait for Mendo to respond and rushed ahead of us.

\--

As we continued behind him, the trail he used was a more-than-obvious path to our final destination. It'd been marked distinctly by having been dug as a short trench that revealed red soil. It was a road of blood and dirt that took us before the presence of one last kamaitachi. This kamaitachi was large enough to draw comparisons to the giant from the blood ocean.

It laid upon the ground, blocking the way to the Kayakandi Temple. At first, all that was visible was crimson fur.

The giant head of the creature hung down. It stared at us for a time.

"This is it." Mendo said, "I think we've met our match, pupils."

This creature would've killed us.

Instead, it sent us a message that intruded on our thoughts:

I see that you have escorted young Masumon to safety. Welcome home, Lord Masumon.

The kamaitachi soared skyward in one powerful motion that erupted across the island. After we'd recovered from the impact of its departure, Mendo brushed himself off and said, "Sayeun was right. If we hadn't had the boy with us, we'd have lost."

"It's almost over." Abul said. "Let's see what's at the end."

\--

We arrived at the Kayakandi Temple.

The remaining members of our group waited in a garden of cherry blossoms. A statue climbed to strike the heights of the sky above, and it now stood out in much more detail than before:

A square head, adorned with iron locks of hair that were tied into a bun, looked out over the nightmare. Its eyes were narrow and horizontal slits, which arced upward at their ends and were set over a wide smile. The torso of the figure was positioned to the side, and both arms and legs were duplicated, making the image appear as if its limbs rotated around itself in a constant motion. The statue extended a third pair of arms in front and held its palms before it in a welcoming gesture.

Only a woodline blocked a dirt trail that led into tightly-grouped blood trees, and they each had faces which were contorted in agony that almost looked... enjoyable to them.

Hollow eyes widened and crinkled a section of wooden skin outside of themselves. Their mouths were twisted into scowls, with corners carved in opposite directions.

The closer we moved toward the woodline, the more a sharp headache spread and caused my vision to blur. My eyes itched and burned, my body temperature rose to a scorching heat, and I felt fatigue build despite not necessarily being awake.

When I blinked for the third time, the surface of a human brain made up the ceiling of this reality. Those fleshy, cerebral folds now composed everything before us. The figure that was once made of stone emerged as a carnal creation, and it mustered a red whirlwind around its form, issuing a low-pitched scream. It sounded like it came from the deepest abyss, and its scream resonated throughout the world.

The blood trees, tangled at the center of what was once a woodline, began to move and moan as they struggled to break free and into individual beings. Wood and sections of flesh writhed and shuttered as humanoid limbs parted from each other, and four figures walked in unison to stand before us. Each one began to morph into specific people, most of whom we didn't recognize—except for one who closely resembled an aged version of Ridha.

Ridha approached Masumon and grasped the handle of a sheathed katana attached to the belt around his waist.

He said to his son:

"Concerning the Way of Sidogush, there are four Saned—or, 'Paths.' Of the four, the Uesugi follow the second: The Way of Kayakandi.

"The First Way entails the story of the one who founded the Way of Sidogush, Isolakandi. Isolakandi preached separation of the soul from the effects of war.

"The one known as the 'Dharmanic Lord' believed that conflict was necessary to bring unity, and so he tells us to follow the way of the warrior."

Ridha kept his eyes on Masumon, retaining a solemn expression while he kept his hand on his weapon.

"If one Awakens and pursues the life of a warrior, that soul may reach Si'Aum, purification, and reaching purification is a task that requires the warrior to cross a river of blood. The river is the Way, and so, Enok, according to Kayakandi, master of the Second Way, you must become like the river."

Ridha drew a blade coated with veined flesh and slashed a diagonal cut across Masumon's chest.

"No!" Mendo shouted and started to move toward them.

A tar-like substance creeped out from the wound, and the memory of Enok as who he once was, Masumon, cried out as he fell to his knees.

Before Mendo could reach him, another of Ridha's creations glided over to him and pierced the ground with a much broader blade of flesh.

Mendo nearly tripped, then he staggered to a halt and unconsciously reached for an ōdachi he no longer had. He clenched his jaw and stepped back, and the nightmarish being grinned at him.

Ridha continued to stare at his son and kept his weapon out and by his side as Masumon's lifeblood dripped from it.

"Become like the river, Enok.

"In order for you to Awaken and compete with your opponents in this life, I have instructed you to kill until you cannot feel attachment to either your life nor the lives of others. When your fear of death, of attachment, and of pleasure has faded, you may take joy in the war that precedes the coming of the Uesugi."

A second being moved closer to Masumon and steadied its sword in front of it, a sword much shorter in length and poised to strike.

This figure moved from outside the constraints of time. I didn't see his feet make any motion before he appeared at Masumon's side and thrusted to impale the blade in between his two ribs. Masumon wailed, and his attacker took a knee while keeping his sword in place.

"When the Uesugi Clan arrived to challenge the other clans of this Quadrant, we'd been long-occupied by the subjugation of the Shimazu. The Shimazu had grown complacent and strayed from the Way, from their ancestors, who once existed in vast number and participated in a greater war for full control of the Citadel. When the Shimazu surrendered and fled to the Lower-City, they allowed themselves to weaken."

Masumon was stabbed for a second time as a third swordsman impaled him from the other side and also followed with a kneel. A fourth entity preventing Mendo from intervening showed us his back, and his appearance shifted to that of a more feminine figure.

"The Uesugi's ancestors were once Shimazu before becoming independent. My relatives sought the true Way of Isolakandi," Ridha said, "and they summoned our family to join them in the establishment of the Uesugi.

"Kamaui Uesugi, arrogant in his old age, fell to the Meiziki's 'Father.' With his passing, leadership fell to us, Enok. Don't you remember who you are?"

Abul looked to me and said, with a worried expression, "This world knows that we've found the key, and it's doing everything it can to stop us from getting to the Root with Masumon."

"What should we do?" I asked.

Mendo exhaled and shook his head.

"I'm afraid we'll have to let this one play out."

"My son." the female entity spoke and placed her hand on Masumon's shoulder.

Her other hand obscured itself as she reached for something I couldn't see.

"A sacrifice was made for you, Masumon."

"M-Mother!" Masumon managed to focus on her while he clung to what he could of his remaining life.

Ridha declared, "Before I offered my own, I offered her soul to the Mulungu. You were selected to be the executioner, Enok. Remember that."

"I..." Masumon stuttered, "I didn't..."

The female spirit stabbed Masumon in the middle of his backside.

"Remember yourself. Who are you, boy?"

Masumon's breathing increased...

From the distance, I could see the trail of a tear on the left side of his face.

"Who am I?" Masumon whispered.

"Tell the world your name, my son.

"Let it be known that the power of Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi has been inherited by a worthy bearer! What is your name?"

A vermilion light fell across Masumon's body, and he aged in proportion with his increasing height. Masumon's pupils faded to expose clear white, and purpled veins condensed around his eyes.

I felt incredible pressure as the wind bellowed ferociously, and Masumon finally responded to Ridha:

"Masumon... that used to be my name...

"Masumon was a child, one who didn't know how to survive in this war, and this kept him from a true Awakening."

He wrapped his hands around two of the blades piercing his sides.

Masumon's body shook, and he looked up at Ridha; he snarled, "I filled my heart with hatred because, after all this time, hatred was the only thing that felt right."

"And why is that?" Ridha inquired.

He snapped both weapons in two and stood up just as bright vermilion shone across his body, shooting outward in rays. Masumon was the center of a storm.

He tightened his fists and screamed:

"Because my name—my name is ENOK!"

A gust of wind burst forth from the living memory, who now totally resembled the current Enok.

Silver chains sprung from his wrists, and they continued to extend as his reddened aura intensified. Enok got into a crouch.

In one rapid movement, Enok hefted two separate chains, which stretched for several yards, and swung them in front of himself—

The center of both chains tore through the spirits on his left and right and caused them to dissolve after having been broken apart.

Enok smashed the form of Ridha by bringing both weapons together again. He then allowed the links to wrap around each other before he grinned and promptly swung his body around to strike for a third time!

Mendo tackled Scum to the ground, and I ducked narrowly in time to avoid being hit.

Enok's chains collided with the head of the memory of Enok's mother and easily passed through, destroying all in its wake.

I felt my vision leave me behind...

It returned to reveal that we were back within the full depths of the nightmare. The woodline from before was currently only inaccessible due to Enok, who glared at us and shouted:

"Who are you? More bastards for me to kill, eh?"

"Enok!"

Mendo stepped in front of us.

"It's still us—y-your friends!"

It felt strange hearing that from Mendo, but he'd become nervous and rattled by now, desperate to return to whatever sliver of the real world he could.

Enok allowed his weapons to rest on the ground, but his breathing was synchronized with an animalistic anger that consumed him.

"FRIENDS? Is this an excuse? Don't you fuck with me!" Enok slammed one of his chains onto the ground.

"Abul!" Mendo glanced back at the demon. "Can you still use that ability?"

Although he remained pale in his demon form, Abul nodded confidently. The masses in his arms had slightly reduced in size but regained their regular pulsations as he tensed.

"Is there something I should say to him, if I can even reach his mind?"

"Tell him: 'Your name is Masumon. Masumon is the one who killed his siblings.'"

Mendo looked back to Enok and stepped toward him. "You need to remember who you really are—not what Ridha told you to be!"

"What? What are you talking about?" Enok frowned and shuddered.

Abul sat and crossed his legs in meditation.

His skin went stark white. His veins reddened and popped as he focused. If he went on using his powers for too long, Abul would either die or seriously damage himself—if he hadn't already done that.

Enok's discomfort was more noticeable with Abul prodding at his mind. He gritted his teeth and grumbled while appearing to feel the demon closer than he'd wanted.

"This is another fucking trick!" Enok drew in the chain links coming from his right arm and shortened them enough so that he could rotate them through the air as he fixed his eyes upon Mendo.

"I'm not Masumon—I'm not a goddamn coward."

He flashed a bright smile, and tears ran down his cheeks.

"Stop saying that, you." Enok looked directly at Abul.

Mendo fell to his knees and, to my surprise, pleaded with his childhood friend:

"ENOK."

Enok let his right chain drop and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you look so familiar? What is your name?"

"I'm Mendo, Enok, the heir to the Nagao Clan. Your friend. I'm stronger than you, remember?"

"Impossible." Enok gripped his chains and sneered. "I've never lost to anyone—are you that much of an idiot to say something so stupid?"

"It's not stupid." Mendo looked away. "How can you be strong if your mind is divided, Masumon?"

"Divided?"

The world around us morphed into cerebral folds...

Then, just like that, reality resumed its former state.

"Masumon—"

"MY NAME ISN'T MASUMON!" he screamed.

Both chains extended out farther from his wrists.

"It is indeed." Mendo stated firmly.

He crossed his legs and joined Abul in meditation. Although the two of them didn't necessarily have to assume this position in order to violate mental barriers, meditation strengthened their shared ability.

"'Enok' is the persona you created," Mendo said. "Enok is how you handled your guilt, Masumon. Your real name is Masumon."

"NO!" Enok roared and swung toward Mendo—

Each chain crashed down and broke the earth next to him, yet Mendo's concentration stayed unbroken.

"Everything that Enok has done is also the responsibility of Masumon. Do you remember yourself, Masumon? We were supposed to unite the Uesugi and the Nagao and destroy our enemies as Awakened warriors. You have to remember me, Masumon!"

Both chains returned into the crevices within Enok's wrists, and an astral light appeared around him as he got down and touched his head to the earth.

"I'm no better than my father." he said and started to sob.

Mendo nodded at Abul, who simply fell back and allowed himself to rest.

"You can see it all now, can't you?" Mendo strode up to his old friend.

When Enok finally chose to acknowledge him, his eyes had been replaced with small, amaranthine tears, as if a deeper self-awareness had led to his ascension.

"Masumon and Enok..." he said. "Neither of them were real."

The memory erected itself and acknowledged us as a group. Enok's aging reversed until his original form appeared, keeping its aura.

"I'm a part of this world but not by choice." the memory said, "I am part of the vestiges of a greater delusion, the delusion possessed by Enok. He is me, but I am a creation meant to fulfill a purpose.

"I am the part of Enok that doubts the nightmare."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Abul had mostly recovered and hunched over as he waited at my side.

Scum huddled behind Mendo, who looked incredulously at the memory.

"It means that I can lead you to the end."

The memory of Enok stepped to the side and gestured toward the base of the statue:

At its bottom, there was a platform of stone which served as the foundation for the sculpted deity. Below the stone base, a dark shadow levitated in a state of meditation—similar to the form used by both Mendo and Abul.

"That is a shrine of Kayakandi," Enok said, "and Lord Kayakandi is at the heart of this world's philosophy.

"The real Enok, the master of this realm, believes that bloodshed bolsters the will to power and that power without attachment is synonymous with the Way of Kayakandi. In the end, this is how the Shaman himself viewed things, too."

"I see." Abul managed to utter. "This shrine is the Root of Enok's mind."

The memory of Enok had us follow him, guiding us toward the one who gave off darkness.

As we closed in on our approach, crimson pews sprang from roots that clawed out of the ground. At the center of each pew, a goblet of blood was set in the middle of multiple, smaller and metallic cups. When we'd passed by the first row of pews, the shadow lowered itself to the ground and unsheathed a long katana.

Ridha was at the head of the shrine, and he was submerged in a black cloud that was attracted to his shape. He glanced at Enok, then he shifted his grip to hold his katana in a diagonal block that he positioned in front of himself.

"Step forward, my son. We must discuss the future of the Uesugi."

"Should we...?" Mendo thought to stop Enok from going to his father, but he trailed off as the boy kept on, maintaining his determination.

Enok stopped before his father's blade and kneeled at Ridha's feet.

"I am yours to command."

Ridha sneered.

"The destiny of the Uesugi has become uncertain..."

He lowered his katana and produced what sounded like an otherworldly groan.

"After the defeat of the Nagao Clan, the Meiziki launched their full efforts to vanquish my people, but I am afraid that I might have made a terrible choice, Enok."

"Speak, father."

The shadow paused briefly.

"I begged a dark spirit to help defend the Uesugi.

"Our numbers were spread thin after making the Shimazu Clan our vassal; of our soldiers, you were the only one to experience an Awakening. Against the full might of the devious Meiziki Clan, I did not believe that we could survive on our own merit.

"I refused to surrender."

Ridha exhaled, "Presently I think I may have acted dishonorably."

"What do you mean?" Enok asked.

"Don't you see the true nature of what I've consorted with all this time, Enok?

"I granted unto you a terrible burden. I ensured that the Mulungu would be summoned to fight for the Uesugi Clan—but at what cost?"

Enok said nothing and merely met his father's eyes in curiosity.

At that same moment, Abul glanced back and abruptly gazed at me in horror.

"He's coming," he said.

The real Enok was catching up.

"My son, I need not be informed of every event.

"There is only one question I must ask of you, and, this way, I may ascertain whether or not my actions were justified—that enlisting the aid of a god was what would save the Uesugi."

"What is it, father?"

It was quiet as Ridha prepared to ask the question that would enable us to escape.

"Tell me, did the Uesugi Clan prevail?"

"What?" Enok was taken aback.

"After my passing, I expected that you would perform the sacrifice needed for the Mulungu. I ask only if the sacrifice was successful—if the Mulungu came to fight on our side of the war and if we defeated the Meiziki Clan. My son, did we prevail?"

All of us, aside from the memory, realized that the key to our liberation was in this question's answer, but the answer had to come from someone Ridha recognized as Enok.

"This was his real concern..." Mendo said. "At the depths of Enok's mind, he still believes that he's carrying out his father's orders, and, while his father was probably more than dedicated to his personal cause, Enok doubts what he's done."

His eyes lit up. "Enok fears this doubt, but Masumon..." He glanced at the living memory. "The 'good' part of Enok knows that this isn't right—ENOK!"

The boy refused to turn and stayed attentive to Ridha.

"Wait, Mendo!" Abul pleaded, "If you interfere—"

"He has to say the right thing!"

Mendo roughly grabbed the demon. "If Enok answers wrong..."

My eyes flickered behind us, and I saw the form of the grown and real Enok running our way.

"Enok!" both Mendo and Abul shouted at the kid.

Scum grabbed his hand and said nothing as the two of them hung their heads.

Enok met his father's eyes and said: "We won."

Ridha was silent...

Then, he prepared to sheathe his katana as he held the hilt before his chest—

"Excellent." Ridha whispered.

He plunged the tip of his blade through the center of his abdomen and let out an agonized groan.

To everyone's shock, Ridha drove the blade deeper into his core and turned it. He then sawed a path of flesh to the right and followed up by cutting in the opposite direction.

"Father!" Enok stepped forward, but Ridha held out one of his hands to stop him.

"E... Enok, what I have done... it's dishonorable."

Black liquid poured from his mouth as he forced himself to speak. Ridha moved his katana to the center and grunted; he cut vertically up and down.

When he'd finished, Ridha looked to his son in desperation:

"You must complete the execution."

Ridha withdrew the blade from his abdomen and threw it to the ground at Enok's feet.

"HURRY."

Enok froze in terror, but Mendo approached to urge him on.

"Let's do this, Enok. It's time to end the nightmare."

Enok retrieved the blade but remained unable to react with any purpose.

"I-I..."

"For what I've done," Ridha said, "I deserve this death, but it cannot be completed without you. You are the Way, Enok, and the Way can deliver the Uesugi Clan."

Enok positioned himself behind his father and raised his sword while fully contemplating the blade.

"Masumon wouldn't do something like this..." he said. "How could I have been so ignorant—tch," he sneered. "Masumon was a joke, a trick of my imagination. The truth is that I was always meant to be this way. I am Enok, and I will not be ashamed of the past."

As he said those words, the true Enok was upon us.

The one who'd trapped us in the nightmare arrived at the scene and stared at both Ridha and the memory of himself as if he knew what we'd caused. The pressure I'd felt before doubled—no, it tripled.

The power Enok emitted was colossal, and it became more intimidating with the display of his rage.

"ALL THIS PAIN!" he screamed as his skin glowed a fiery red. "And it's all because you bastards have invaded my mind—caused trouble you shouldn't have!"

He started to swing one of his chains and aimed in the direction of the memory.

"Finish him, Enok!" Mendo shouted.

Abul kept his eyes on both the newcomer and the memory of Ridha we sought to destroy; Enok tensed and readied a strike that would save his father; and me... I felt helpless, but I wouldn't let him take away our last chance.

Despite not having the talent they did—or even a decent way to defend myself—I rushed to get to the memory of Enok's side. The memory itself was about deliver the final strike, but the real Enok was faster!

One of his chains extended in the air; it morphed into a muscled appendage of flesh, tendons, and large arteries. Enok hurled connected bundles of flesh through the air in a broad arc. His weapon soared in from the side, and I'd made enough progress to move under it before I could block the memory of young Enok with my body!

"TAVON!" Mendo shouted.

Abul ran toward me, gathering his energy again. Scum was too afraid to do anything.

This was it.

I'd be crushed by Enok, but I'd bought them the seconds they needed!

As I saw the mass of flesh fly toward my face, I buckled down and reeled my fist behind me. I felt adrenaline surge through my body, then I became entirely aware that I was moments away from my death.

The fear it instilled in me inspired something much deeper... a craving that I'd sought for so long.

My vision was dominated by gold streaks that turned to black, and I felt my heart fall through my chest while my spirit rocketed down to connect with something buried deep, a raw energy that overflowed and threatened to claim my conscious mind with fantasies of immaculate destruction.

I felt amazing compression throughout my right arm; it was... heavier.

I punched into the appendage that hailed my death—

A crushing sound thundered out and followed as my fist collapsed, breaking inward.

Skin peeled away from my hand, and the bone in my forearm fractured, with the top portion slightly shifting to the side and curving out. Enok's chained appendage crashed into the ground.

The younger Enok swung his katana and sliced through the neck of Ridha, decapitating him.

Miserable pain spread through the whole of my right arm, which itself was unmovable. Shortly after that pain, shock took over and numbed any further sensation I felt other than a cold sweat that ran down my back.

My vision was blurring again.

My peripherals showed only clear white, but my central vision concentrated on the memory of Enok. He still wielded the katana and looked blissful after having slain the memory of Ridha.

He knew that I was paying attention to him, and so he stared back at me with an oddly cheerful attitude.

"That's what I should've done." he said. "Masumon knew what the right thing to do was. Without that part of me, I wouldn't have had any self-control."

Enok closed his eyes, pondering something before he finished, "But neither part of me understood that the real monster, the real enemy, was Ridha."
13

Kokora

\--

Tavon

\--

WE AWOKE NEAR TO THE CENTER OF IT ALL.

I was covered in a transparent liquid, tangled in pink striations covering the ground. I still couldn't move my right arm, and it burned to keep my eyes open longer than a second.

I heard others squirming on the ground next to me:

"Ugh!" it sounded like Abul, "I can't get this rot off me!"

"It's like we were hit with chunks of Enok's brain... eck." Mendo worked on shaking himself free.

I heard a wet, ripping sound, and Abul shouted, "Tavon! Are you all right?"

I wasn't.

I tried to speak, but I knew that the damage I'd taken had carried over with me from the nightmare realm. Cold liquid slid down my neck and brought a chill along the side of my shoulder before it dripped onto the earth.

I kicked out with my leg; something caught it.

"Good." Abul said and started to pull. "You're still alive."

Mendo came to help me out, too, and began pulling on the sinews that bound me in place. He tore them away, and they spilled their contents over me before collapsing in wet heaps onto my stomach.

I opened my eyes again and saw Scum looking up at me. She walked closer and said, flatly, "Poor thing. You're so young. I'm surprised you survived with your head intact, T!"

"I'm the young one?"

Scum didn't hesitate to nod, and the others weren't inclined to argue.

"You aren't like us," she said to me. "Your aura is weird. I sensed it one time, when you tried to defend yourself against that bad man, Enok."

"Huh? I have an aura?"

"Mhmm." Her eyes fixated ahead while she recalled what she'd seen of me. "It was like an explosion, T. You're a bomb!"

"A bomb, huh?" Mendo scratched his head. "I can't imagine what slang she picked up in the Hive, but maybe that's the best explanation for it—" Mendo glared at me. "although you being a 'bomb' has proven useless for most of this trip."

"Nonsense." Abul looked earnestly at Mendo. "Everyone played a part in this, and now we've only one more task ahead."

All around, I saw tall skyscrapers composed of mangled flesh and anguished human heads that congregated in certain sections of each building. Reddened earth, like the layer exposed when skin's peeled back, covered a surface that stretched from a central point. At this focal point, a series of high-rise buildings, designed with grey, cracked stone the color of ash, littered the area around a small tree that sprouted from a bleeding hollow within the earth.

This tree reached a short distance above the ground and looked as if it had already died. Its bark was rotted, displaying a deep brown that seemed haunting due to the presence of grey leaves which were scattered about it. From this strange tree, I could feel an ominous presence which seeped from it and contaminated the air.

Mendo took notice after witnessing me ignore the rest of the party; he also kept staring in its direction.

He stepped toward it, but Abul grabbed his arm.

"No." He started to shiver, refusing to look for himself. "That's it, Mendo."

"What... do you mean?" Mendo's speech froze, and he became abnormally interested in the dead flora.

When I analyzed the tree again, an imprint emerged in the back of my vision. A large ring with an infinite light was somewhat visible, and, as I continued to stare, the vision was strengthened.

"It's the Root." Abul said in a shrill tone. "The real one—the source of the Mulungu, Mendo."

He nudged our mentor, but Mendo's focus couldn't be shaken. His face was blank, and he offered no response.

"Tavon!" Abul shouted to me—

Trying to turn my eyes away from the possessed tree caused a burning sensation to run through my temples.

He bounded over, using both hands to jerk me away from the trap; I closed my eyes and fell when the worst pain tore through them.

"Looking at the Root is the same as looking at the Mulungu Itself! If you stare into it for too long—"

Scum was already far ahead of us and strode toward the Root. She didn't seem affected by the same trick that had taken Mendo captive; instead, she demonstrated less fear than any of us up to this point.

Abul yelled:

"Stop! You can't just go where you please!"

I gathered my strength, keenly aware of a growing ache in my broken arm. The shock would subside soon, and I knew that enduring that kind of suffering would incapacitate me. I had to let my adrenaline take over in the same way as it had done before, then I'd stand a real chance of supporting my friends.

Before Abul could get to Scum, she turned prior to almost reaching the Root. Her body trembled violently, and sizable clusters of veins pressed outward from her forehead.

"It'll be okay, Ab. This is where I help you."

She resumed walking, but Abul continued after her, and he abruptly halted upon taking view of it at a closer distance. When I'd arrived at his side, I let my curiosity overwhelm me. I looked again...

—I saw Its Face in my mind's eye:

A horrible smile coupled with mad eyes that scorched my conscious will. The Mulungu felt as if it were a few inches from my own face, and Its presence threatened to consume me with an uncontrollable insanity. I would be buried in the realm of the nightmare, forever the servant to an alien god that shone with tar and grime.

Even though the image of Its Face robbed me of most of my eyesight, I saw Scum coming to stand over the dead tree.

She said aloud and to all of us:

"If I can steal demons, then I can take this Root. I can take it from this place and hide it inside of me...

"But first," she paused, "it's your turn to be free, Deiu'oegnylith."

Scum said the name of the demon inside of her, and her jaws snapped open to expose a black pit which grew and expanded to obscure most of her face. Veins shrouded her eyes; her face went pale while dark blood vessels concentrated around her mouth.

The essence of the avian demon was evoked in the form of a cloud that was soon headed by a long beak, one which jutted from bright slits that represented the eyes of the demon. As it escaped from the girl, the demon spread its wide, feathered wings and bellowed:

"This is my chance!"

\--

A great husk composed of dark winds gathered at the Root, and the form of Deiu'oegnylith swarmed over it. The Face of the Mulungus hung in the atmosphere. The Black Sun shook while suspended in the endless skies, then the Face turned and was replaced by a bare surface of the bleakest darkness.

As I slowly came to my senses, I heard Deiu'oegnylith rant:

"I've come into the possession of a Mulungu, a feat believed impossible. The connection It has to humans has paved a way to inherit Its power! And, by joining with the Mulungus, I shall surpass all demons of my species. I will reach godhood!"

Mendo closed in, panting between words, "He only... c-came with us because he wanted to know how to stop that thing, too! I guess all demons are the same."

"Hmph." Abul uttered. "I'd never choose to side with a creature like that." He braced himself and pondered whether or not he should run. "Joining with it would mean losing everything!"

"I said, 'it's okay.'" Scum remained upright and transfixed with the demon which had possessed her. "None of you have to worry anymore..."

Black lightning struck Deiu'oegnylith's head—then his body expanded in response, taking up the whole of the heavens above. He cackled as his body climbed toward the Mulungu.

"This is what every Citadel human deserves. Don't you fools see now?

"The void in humans has found a place to reside. What has been rejected has arisen from oblivion, and I will join it in killing every life form that insists that it is worthy of life!"

"DEIU'OEGNYLITH!" Scum shrieked, startling everyone present.

"RETURN!"

The demon expanded its beak and produced a guttural wail that caused my ears to ring—

A black wisp reached toward the empty Face of the Mulungu, blanketing it in a thick steam which became the color of decayed filth. The figure of the demon was compelled toward Scum, and her jaws widened even farther, ripping open lines that exposed her teeth while she continued to consume the essence of the spirit.

"Little one! If you eat the Root of the Mulungu and take on our combined power, I promise that you will perish.

"Every sacrifice would have been for naught!"

Scum's eyes were overtaken with a ruby sheen. Trails of wide veins were visible as her face paled and shriveled. An aura encapsulated both her and Deiu'oegnylith, and the beam of light, once bathing the demon, now contorted itself and headed toward Scum, disappearing as she continued to inhale while standing against the oppressive power of two dark spirits.

Mendo came to his senses, and, for the first time, I watched him react with pure feeling.

He swallowed and screamed, "STOP! I won't let you take her from us!"

Mendo broke into a sprint toward Scum. Before he knew it, Abul was upon him and raced behind before he grabbed Mendo's arm, begging him to stop.

"Mendo!" he shouted, "You can't interf—"

Mendo spun and arced his right fist in the air; he punched Abul, and this strike blasted into the side of the demon's face and sent him backward to then fall onto the ground while he still looked up at our mentor.

"Don't get in my w—" Mendo coughed; sweat formed at his brow. His eyes shook, completing a mad look, and he focused his rage on Abul.

"You wouldn't understand!" He scowled. "Demons think they're above us, don't they? Why would I expect some... thing like you to care about the life of ANYONE!"

A bright light was given off by an orbital mass which descended from the Mulungu.

Deiu'oegnylith was terrified. The demon screeched as the light engulfed him, then it collided with Scum—

This generated a shockwave that forced me onto my hands and knees. The earth shook, and I was too afraid to search around myself. It felt like this was just another part of the inescapable nightmare, but I was jolted back into the present when I heard Mendo run toward the girl once again.

"Hey!" he screamed. His aura radiated at the same time that his speed increased.

The world had changed, but this would be the last time.

Scum had ended the nightmare, and, behind her shivering body, there was now a small tree which had blossomed alone in the Lower-City.

The tree was alive and vibrant, but it was also in stark contrast to Scum herself, who'd gone ghost-white, with hair that'd greyed due to overwhelming shock. Scum started to collapse onto the ground, which was simply dried earth in the real world.

Mendo caught her in his arms and asked her, in a low voice, "What did you do?"

A tear ran down his cheek.

Surrounding us, and where there had once been modern buildings mixed with the creations of the Mulungu, everything had turned to aged stone; we were among hardpan plains and inaccessible, cragged domes.

The Sun had returned, but it hovered near to another, smaller sphere that had once shown the Face of the Mulungus.

Scum opened her eyes. She managed to smile at Mendo through her own tears. Her voice echoed above any kind of natural tone, but I'm pretty sure that she was only preserving herself just so she'd have a chance to say goodbye.

"This was my curse," she said. "People were afraid of me ever since the day I realized that I could speak with demons, that I was too much like them."

Mendo flinched as her pitch rang sharply through the air:

"I could steal them. They called me 'Scum' because I could restrain demons, and that made me worse than a demon to my family. A girl who could keep devils inside of her was trash, so I was given away."

"Please don't..." Mendo looked down and closed his eyes. "Please don't leave me," he said. "This can't happen again. I can't fail."

"Mr. Mendo...

"I wanted to help you and your friends—you were all... so nice..." She blinked and breathed in deeply.

Her life was slipping away fast. Mendo embraced her while struggling to choke back his emotions.

"Mr. Mendo?"

"Yes? What do you need?"

"Can I have a name?"

"W-what?" Mendo met her eyes, and he recovered as hers began to tear up.

At this moment, I realized that both her hands and feet had turned the color of ash and were slowly worn away by a gentle breeze.

"I've never had a normal name. What would you name me?"

"Hmph." Mendo smiled, displaying a strength I didn't expect to see from him. "Don't you want to name yourself? Why, after what you've been through, should anyone be allowed to control you?"

She stuttered, "I-I can't think—there's not enough... time. Mendo, do you know what happens to people after they stop... being?"

He exhaled and pondered everything she'd said.

"You'll be happy." He bowed his head, faking a smile. "It wouldn't be hard, but I'd feel wrong if I was to name y—"

"Please!" she uttered, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head before refocusing within a face that tensed in fear.

"Okay—okay!" Mendo nodded again, closed his eyes, and paused for a moment.

"Your name..."

"Mr. Mendo, I—"

"Kokora."

"W-what?"

Mendo smiled. "Kokora. I saw the name in a book once, one of those texts from what the city used to be before the Citadel...

"It means, 'angelic soul.' You saved us, Kokora. You can't leave us, not now."

"Mr. Mendo," Kokora said, "you gave me what I wanted my whole life. When we went through your mind—and through Enok's mind—I knew that something was missing.

"People need each other more than they think."

More of Kokora's body shifted to ash, and it parted from her as she refused to give up.

"It's one thing to learn to be by yourself."

Kokora's eyes closed. Her breathing slowed.

"But humans must have love to survive, and people like Enok think they can be happy without it. Do you see, Mendo? He... thinks he's stronger than that."

"Wait, Kokora! Don't go—please don't go!"

Anguish spread across Mendo's face, and his aura glowed with a much darker blue. His pain was transferring over to a sort of energy I couldn't understand.

Mendo looked inside himself and found a memory that used to burden his mind, and I knew that he was thinking of the girl we'd seen in his mind, Aolo.

He sunk lower to the ground as the rest of Kokora drifted into nothing. She smiled one last time before she was gone, and, with her remaining breath, Kokora said:

"You're strong, Mendo. All of you are. You have each other..."

The wind swept Kokora from us, but her voice echoed through the air:

"And you'll always have me. I'll never forget your names."
14

Speed And Foresight

\--

Tavon

\--

"I THINK I UNDERSTAND," Abul spoke while Mendo stayed silent.

I helped Abul, who rubbed his face and staggered when he tried to continue standing. The masses in his arms had shrunk and no longer produced contractions like before. I gave him my shoulder for support, and Mendo responded:

"What..." he sighed, "is there to understand?"

"Because Scum—"

"Kokora." Mendo interrupted.

"Right." Abul nodded nervously. "Because 'Kokora' was able to capture demons inside of her body, she could interact with the Mulungu by using Deiu'oegnylith as a proxy. Her demon was able to bind its spirit to the Root, but doing so exposed both itself and the Root."

"Get to the point, pupil."

"I think that the essences of those two beings were given to a vessel. Kokora absorbed them—she was the vessel, but she couldn't handle raw power of that caliber. Kokora sacrificed herself in an attempt to kill two evils—"

"That's enough. I don't want to hear any more of this." Mendo walked away from us. He pointed both of his palms down and in front.

Abul continued, "But the body of the Mulungu is still here!" He gestured toward the sky, but Mendo ignored him.

"Just because we dealt with the Root doesn't mean that the Mulungu has been erased from existence, but I'm concerned with whether or not It might return—the Citadel couldn't possibly ha—"

"PUPIL!" Mendo barked and turned to glare at both of us. His eyes betrayed a need to accuse someone, but Mendo kept calm and said, "Prepare yourselves for another lesson." He grunted, then he shook his head. "Although Tavon certainly isn't ready for this next step—and I don't entirely know how to train a demon..."

He paused.

"Learning this will absolutely change the way you two fight."

Mendo fixed his eyes on the space below his palms and brought them together...

He followed by inhaling deeply, forming a triangle with his hands, and breathing out a cloud of smoke that coursed through the opening like an arrow.

Mendo's hands parted, and he cupped the shape of something transparent; he inhaled, exhaled, and produced more smoke, and then he brought his hands together, closing his right into a fist and jabbing his knuckles roughly into the palm of his left. He exhaled smoke for a third time and separated his hands just as small streaks of blue static convalesced around his forearms.

Mendo repeated this ritual, and the area around us fogged while a thin, elongated shape shimmered and hummed in place of what had before been nothing.

Mendo straightened his fingers, then he touched them together to form a temple. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sapphire light issued forth from his eyes. Mendo's veins jutted from the surface of his skin; one cluster of veins, in particular, pressed out hard from his right temple...

But he continued his strange, wordless prayer, and the shape before him extended beyond the height of his body. He let his temple fall apart and moved his hands around the light, molding and shaping his creation into steel that burned a bright blue as the light faded from it. Steam gathered and emerged from the tip of a blade that silvered as it cooled. Mendo lowered his stance in order to grip what became the hilt of a new ōdachi.

He held his sword low, looking out of breath as he hunched over and tried to resume his lecture.

"Maia: Genesis.

"In the Meiziki Clan, especially among those of us who are Awakened," he took a few seconds to breath in and spoke on the next exhale, "this is known as the Spectrum of Creation. There's only one other samurai who can use a small part of it, and he's a Seneschal."

"You can make weapons?" exclaimed Abul.

"Not easily." Mendo said, "And not reliably. A Seneschal would know more about the power than I do, but my affinity for fighting with a heavier weapon and my fondness for the ōdachi as a weapon allows me to create replicas of the very first one I owned."

"That's—that's beyond impressive!"

I didn't know what to say, but I'm sure my expression mirrored Abul's sentiments.

Mendo didn't so much as crack a smile. "I conserved my energy exactly for this."

He gripped his weapon tightly and peered off into the distance.

"It looks as though there'll be one last fight, pupils."

As if to respond, the sound of chains clanging against the ground resonated toward us; Abul and I turned to see the only other survivor of the nightmare.

Enok had arrived.

\--

He wore nothing but tattered jeans and dark boots as he approached and looked menacingly in our direction. His rage was palpable, surpassing even Mendo's anger. Enok's body was a mess of cuts, scrapes, and bruises that covered dense muscle, which tightened and enlarged under the weight of thick chains dragging behind his advance.

Mendo moved ahead of us, keeping his ōdachi in front. He angled his blade to the right and peered over its edge as he confronted an old friend.

"Mendo!" Abul shouted, "Let me help you!"

"Absolutely not," he replied. "Enok is no ordinary enemy. If you get too close, he will kill you. I'll finish this on my own."

Enok's pace quickened.

"Hey, buddy!" he growled across the expanse, "Did you forget?"

The chain from his right arm whirled through the air in a tight circle; Enok extended it farther before he swung down cleanly and toward Mendo.

Mendo's body glowed, briefly, and then he dashed aside in time to dodge an attack that broke the surface of the earth and forced debris upward in its wake.

Enok started to reabsorb some of the length of his chain and threw his arm back to whip the weapon up and behind him. He moved into a crouch, then he smirked when he took notice of Mendo contemplating his next actions.

Enok stood and momentarily brought the ensuing duel to a halt.

He grinned.

"Thanks to you, I've become what I always needed to be."

Excitement caused his voice to shake, "Masumon was the only part of me that could be called weak, and you killed him, Mendo!"

"What are you talking about?" Mendo pleaded with him, "You have to stop this, Enok! Do you understand the damage you've done? Don't you realize that an event of this magnitude could bring the Citadel police to the Fourth Quadrant?"

"Shut up." Enok's voice deepened, and he snorted, "We trained together for so many years. All of the sudden, you're afraid to fight me."

Enok stood tall and pointed at his old friend in accusation. "This time, Mendo..."—a red hue spread out from his body—"You don't have to hold back. Masumon is dead, and you've witnessed the birth of a REAL samurai!"

Mendo glowed cerulean, and he charged!

Enok, upon reflex, whipped his right chain through the air and slung it into an outward arc before him at the same moment his opponent slashed down—

Mendo's ōdachi met the brunt of multiple chain links, and Enok stepped away so that he could swing his left arm. The second set of links flew at Mendo from his right flank, leaving him little time to maneuver after he'd already blocked one strike. He angled his body in order to turn his blade to the right and downward diagonally to intercept the second attack.

Steel collided with steel, but Mendo was nearly pushed off his feet; he stumbled while on his heels and gasped as the end of the second chain rotated around his sword and flew in his direction. Mendo's aura grew, and he soared forward and up, using one foot to leap from the first set of chain links, then he performed a rapid backflip. Mendo landed on his feet and sprinted as the light around him intensified further, and, in the blink of an eye, he loomed before Enok—

He hefted his blade in the air to strike!

In the time it'd taken Mendo to close the distance between them, Enok seemed to expect what would happen next and sheathed his right chain links while taking hold of his left with both hands and straightening them above his head.

A weapon of such size would've normally proved impossible to defend against in that stance, but, to everyone's shock, Enok's didn't budge against the weight of his enemy's ōdachi.

Steel collided overhead; Enok remained in place, whereas Mendo froze. Mendo's aura dimmed slightly, and Enok chuckled.

"What?" he taunted, "You thought it'd be like last time, like how it used to be with you and me?"

Mendo radiated with enough ferocity to coat his blade in the power leaking from his determination and will to survive. He focused his speed on his strikes, and Mendo rapidly produced a series of downward slashes that Enok blocked in quick succession.

Mendo slashed at Enok for the tenth time, then Enok whipped his chain upward and pivoted, exposing his bare right hand with his palm faced outwards.

His aura was cerise, and an opening formed at his wrist—

Enok unleased the spiked point of the other set of chain links in a strong thrust.

Mendo staggered and clumsily shielded himself. The end of Enok's chain banged into his ōdachi, knocking it back and causing Mendo to stagger several steps before he'd regained his balance.

Mendo's aura jetted out around him; he flashed to the right and in time to avoid Enok as he projected both chains in another thrust at his opponent—

Mendo appeared to glide through time again. He appeared directly behind Enok.

Mendo dashed and prepared to attack!

But Enok's eyes had easily tracked his target.

Enok bared a malicious smile and turned while swinging both chains through the air and blocking any potential means of escape. Mendo was then enveloped in his own essence, shining with incredible life as his speed broke through another plateau:

He sprinted away from two sets of links that followed him while he edged toward Enok.

Utilizing his ability at its maximum, Mendo managed to put space between himself and the weapon; he darted out and spun to charge in toward Enok, his ōdachi lowered in a forward thrust.

Enok absorbed his right chain and faced his opponent. Just as Mendo lunged at him, he sidestepped while regenerating the chain and willing it to wrap around the ōdachi. Enok pulled to the right, and Mendo stumbled while trying to overpower his opponent's hold on the weapon. His energy brightened, and—

Enok punched him.

He crashed his fist into Mendo's cheekbone, sending both him and his ōdachi to the ground.

Enok chuckled, "You thought I'd fall for the same trick, huh? You missed my Awakening, Mendo."

Enok decreased the length of his right chain and casually whirled it through the air.

"How was he able to beat Mendo's speed?" I asked Abul, who was struggling to compose himself.

He got into his meditative pose.

"Enok must have other abilities besides just Genesis. I don't know if I can tap into his conscious mind, but I have to try."

As if on cue, Enok turned to glare at Abul and grumbled, "I can feel you, you stupid bastard!"

Enok's pupils burned scarlet. His aura threatened imminent destruction.

"Even after everything you've done, you think you can keep playing with my mind!"

He hefted both chains in the air while extending them to their full lengths; they now encompassed yards of territory and soared above like dark pillars.

"I can see everything, morons! Even if you think you're faster, I already know what you'll do!"

Abul and I sprinted in opposite directions just as steel smashed through the earth, forming deep trenches underneath hundreds of mineral fragments that remained suspended in the air long enough for Enok to partially absorb one of the chains and whip it out across himself—

He struck several blocks of debris and sent them rocketing toward us with enough speed and size to have amputated a limb if one connected. I didn't have the time to react as a chunk of earth soared close to my head, but a light almost blinded me in that same instant, and Mendo's form appeared.

Following his emergence, I heard dense soil clunk against Mendo's sword and break apart in heaps.

I got to my feet, and he ordered, "Run! I told you not to interfere!"

He pushed me away, and then he turned to face Enok as the Uesugi warrior calmly and confidently strode closer.

"He has foresight." Mendo stated.

Abul kept his eyes fixed on Enok as he asked, "Foresight?"

"Just as weapon creation is a form of Maia, foresight belongs to a separate class of abilities that fall under Ra-Imago, or: abilities related to the psychological manipulation of time. Enok uses time as a current to see what I will do moments in advance."

"You're goddamn right." Enok said.

Mendo smirked.

"No one's perfect. In terms of physical strength and range, Enok has me beat. Not just that, but he has a power that enables him to predict my movements."

"Then how do we win?" Abul asked.

"It's simple, pupils." Mendo straightened and relaxed his demeanor. "We beat him by using pure strategy. Against an opponent who's stronger than you, both your mind as well as your technique becomes your last defense."

He advanced on Enok and hovered one of his hands over the tip of his blade.

"Oh?" Enok tilted his head to the side. "You think you can win against me now, Mendo?"

"I think your foresight can't last forever."

The end of the ōdachi burned with blue embers and began to extend while the body of the sword simultaneously broadened. At the same time the weapon started to grow, Mendo's grip weakened, and he was forced to wield the ōdachi at his waist. His forehead beaded with sweat, and he breathed with considerable effort while struggling to keep his weapon level.

Enok snickered, "This was your next plan? Make a bigger sword—ha! I love it!"

He fully absorbed one chain and extended the other to rest across both hands.

"It's like when we were kids, Mendo! Don't worry." He bowed his head while staring at him darkly. "Masumon made me remember everything."

Mendo lit up and rushed at Enok.

His opponent laughed hysterically and swung his chain into another arc that drifted toward him. Mendo brought the end of his sword down and across his body to deflect the oncoming attack, which pushed him back but didn't stop him—

Mendo merely increased his speed and pursued Enok as he continued to step away and swing at Mendo with subsequent strikes. He slashed the air between them with a chain that clanked when colliding against the ōdachi, and, when Mendo had finally closed the distance, Enok rotated his torso and grasped his chain with both hands, straightening it into a shield that protected his side!

Because the ōdachi was now significantly heavier, Mendo had been restricted to broad, horizontal swings if he wanted to safely conserve his stamina. Mendo anticipated that Enok would see his attack and use his chain to stop him, but he also believed in his strength. Mendo pressed forward, putting his weight behind his strike.

This time, Enok grunted and lost balance against the blade, and Mendo glowed blue before he flashed inside of his opponent's guard!

Enok aimed his other arm at Mendo, and chain links darted for his head—

Mendo ducked under a spike that soared through a tuft of his hair and past as he stumbled forward and spun to maintain his momentum. Mendo twirled under Enok's chains, skillfully allowing his ōdachi to float through the air in front of him, before he charged in again and slashed from the left side!

Enok gasped—

He moved but not in time to avoid receiving a shallow cut that cleaved the skin on his upper right thigh.

"Nice." Enok remarked bitterly and then snarled as Mendo continued to pursue him.

Mendo slashed at his opponent, but Enok reacted to his next swing and struck the ground with his right set of chain links. Blue embers burst from Mendo's body, and his figure flitted to the right.

At the same moment, Enok had already aimed the other set at Mendo and projected the end spike at him before he could proceed again. Mendo planted the end of his ōdachi into the ground, angling it slightly due to his own height, and he shielded himself while gripping it at both ends.

The spike struck the center of his ōdachi's blade, and Mendo lost his footing.

He struggled to lift his sword as the second set of chain links closed in on his right flank, and Mendo was forced to totally abandon his weapon in order to leap through another deadly arc!

Enok's chains wrapped around the ōdachi, and he cackled while he hurled it through the air, believing that Mendo would succumb to defeat after having been disarmed.

To his shock, Mendo flew in his direction and commenced producing a familiar series of movements with his hands before he was upon Enok and uttered:

—SHINTE: UPEPO PUNCH—

Enok responded with inhuman speed and flattened his palms before crossing them and balling each hand into a fist. He brought them apart and interlaced his fingers.

Enok put his palms together at the exact moment Mendo's attack touched him, and—

—SHUDO: A THOUSAND WALLS—

Forceful, red gales gathered and speedily condensed into giant spheres which enclosed Mendo's fists and proceeded to launch toward Enok.

Around Enok, crimson lights glared behind what appeared to be hundreds of ethereal fists that surrounded him. They soared to meet both spheres. After one shape plunged into the embrace of the orb, it imploded with energy that resounded outward in a shockwave effect and was followed by several more phantom fists which stood against Mendo's attack.

Within seconds, Mendo's concentration was broken; pierced energy exploded open, causing all to flinch except for Enok and Mendo, who continued their fight while I struggled to formulate a plan of my own.

Enok stepped into a lunge and brought his arms together in front of him, chains trailing behind, and Mendo jumped up, radiating as he dashed to the left and fled when Enok slashed both chains his way. Before Mendo could do very much else, Enok arced them upward and then down to demolish the ground a foot from him.

Mendo glowed as he hopped back and evaded the resulting debris, and then he darted toward the left chain as it recoiled on the ground. He stepped off a ridge that formed in its center; Mendo used that ridge to spring himself into the air and catch his ōdachi at its hilt as it was coming down.

Our mentor moved through the atmosphere above and, for once, hefted his enlarged ōdachi for an overhead swing at Enok!

Enok absorbed both chains, then he projected them both to catch the blade just as he stepped away and allowed it to nearly cleave the ground. In the same instant, Enok bounded toward the sword and grasped it with his hands before red lightning struck the ground, and Enok cried:

—SHUDO: SHATTERED STEEL—

Enok's hands embered, and he cleaved the ōdachi in two!

Mendo narrowly avoided tripping after the weight of his weapon was halved, and he was left with the flat, charred end of a broken sword. His eyes became wild, and, for a moment, terror claimed him.

Enok met his gaze, and his aura burned bright as he stared down Mendo and declared:

"You're outmatched. That's what happens when you stop training, dumbass."

"I'm not done." Mendo replied and rushed Enok while thrusting the flat end of his broken ōdachi at Enok's right eye.

Enok turned his head to the side, and the edge of blade made a small cut in his cheek. He rolled his shoulder over the weapon and grasped the steel with his left hand.

Mendo's aura grew to match Enok's, and he fought to regain control of his weapon in vain.

"Speed..." Enok began, "Speed is valuable. With discipline, however..."

In one controlled movement, Enok jerked the ōdachi from Mendo and punched his opponent in the jaw.

Mendo collapsed onto his back and scrambled to get up while keeping his eyes on Enok.

"That's enough." Enok said and simultaneously reabsorbed both chains.

He aimed one of his wrists at Mendo and stated, calmly, "I'm leagues above you now."

"I-I'm proud of you Enok."

"Huh?"

At this time—as he remained confused at what Mendo had said to him—I chose to act.

\--

I'd tried getting in close without catching Enok's attention; when I was ready, I sprinted in from behind.

I tensed the whole of my one working arm and tried to concentrate my anger in order to fulfill my purpose: I swung my fist into an uppercut and summoned all the fury I could before the hit connected with his side—

It felt like punching a brick wall.

Severe pain jolted through my arm, and he stood in place, glaring down at me until his expression changed to a smirk.

Enok struck my cheekbone with his fist—he pivoted to uppercut my abdomen with enough strength to send me crashing to the fragmented earth and sliding across the ground.

"One of your trainees, eh?"

Enok projected his right chain and rotated it through the air.

"He's more useless than you are."

Mendo's form flitted by, and I heard the faint sound of steel as I felt his presence grow nearer. Enok kept his eyes fixed on me as he flung his weapon back and then forward to obliterate anything that remained in its path.

My mentor appeared at my side, and he hefted me onto his back to evade the strike while attempting to flee from combat. Enok projected his left chain and swung it outward and then from his right.

Mendo, now carrying the other half of the ōdachi, bled from his palm as he gripped the blade tightly and used it to catch the incoming chain—

Blood spurted from his right hand, and his index and middle finger were both severed as the weight of Enok's chain knocked the weapon completely from Mendo's grasp. Mendo enhanced his speed and rapidly took hold of the blade with his left hand while racing forward and balancing me atop himself.

Enok sprinted after us and halted in order to quickly transition to a power stance:

He leaned back, bringing his right arm across and to his side; the chain followed, and he prepared to step forward and send another ranged attack our way!

Mendo threw me to the ground and then broke into a dash that brought him back into a full confrontation with Enok. Enok didn't hesitate to commence another assault, and, with no way to defend himself from such a distance and no time to perform Genesis again, Mendo was doomed against another barrage. Enok knew this, and he swung his chains in arcs that spiraled around his figure before he began slinging them as whip-like appendages that hammered the ground and desperately sought Mendo as a target.

Mendo's ability managed to preserve him for a time; he started bolting in complex patterns in order to avoid successive attacks, but Enok could still predict his next moves. Eventually, Mendo's power wasn't enough to protect himself, and the end of Enok's right chain sliced through the flesh on the front of his shoulder.

Enok got aggressive. He lunged forward while throwing both chains behind himself. He tensed as they wrapped around each other, and then he moved to swing them overhead when—!

A figure engulfed in black flames radiated behind Enok.

For once, he'd been taken off guard.

Incredible energy gathered around one of Abul's forearms. He unleashed a blast that seared Enok's back and forced him onto his stomach.

And, with that last surge of strength, Abul's hand imploded. His body turned completely grey, and he collapsed while holding a dark stump to his chest.

Mendo didn't waste time. He ordered me to run as he performed the Genesis ritual around what was left of his ōdachi.

"I'm not leaving you," I said.

"Tch." Mendo spat.

Static formed over the blade and illuminated it.

"You're such a pathetic body in this, kid—don't you realize what you've done?"

His eyes flickered to the bloody mess that had once been his hand.

"I'm not going to surrender, Mendo." I met his eyes and shouted, "Isn't that against what you're all about? You're the most talented fighter in the Meiziki Clan!"

"Hush, kid." His expression got solemn, and he turned to reveal a new but much shorter ōdachi.

He looked at me in earnest as he said, "If saving your life is the only thing I can accomplish here, then at least give me that..."

Mendo gestured to a fallen, stone-encased skyscraper that contained a crevice in the top from one of Enok's attacks.

"Tavon," he said, "when I've worn him down, it'll be up to you finish him off. But now, you must bide your time. Go!"

I nodded and promptly followed his final request to me.

I heard the sounds of chains, and an enraged Enok approached Mendo. He barely managed to restrain himself, screaming:

"C'MON! All of you—I WANT ALL OF YOU TO FIGHT ME!"

Enok swung one of his chains and tossed it with enough force that it crashed through a stone tower in its entirety. His weapon collided with the ground, rupturing more earth and signaling the beginning of Enok's true wrath.

\--

"As I said before," Mendo began while contemplating his enemy, "this battle can be won by strategy, but strategy takes perseverance.

"Abul!"

The pale demon propped himself up, then he weakly collapsed to the ground.

"What do you need, Mendo." he groaned.

"Can you reach into his mind one last time?"

"Tell me... w-when." His chest rose and fell, and his breathing softened. I felt that Abul was inching closer to death as the duel persisted, but the demon prince wouldn't surrender. The three of us would finish this fight, even if it meant the end.

Mendo observed the terrain around Enok and acknowledged something we hadn't yet. His ability activated, and he held his ōdachi at his waist.

Mendo's form raced ahead of his aura—he stepped onto a rock that jutted from the ground; he leapt from it and dodged as one of the chains tore open the soil below him, and then he vaulted across a series of boulders and rocks that now marked their fight's surrounding area. As Enok was larger and relied more on strength than speed, he was clumsier when maneuvering through land he'd destroyed during the battle.

Enok stumbled as he tried to keep up with Mendo's form, but Mendo seemed to feel renewed energy as he fought with a lighter weapon.

Enok swung one chain in a diagonal arc before smashing the ground in front of it, narrowly striking his target. He twirled and brought the other chain around in a sweep that forced Mendo to bound over the weapon and recover by landing with both feet on another small section of earth that stood out. He maintained his balance and sprung himself toward Enok with newfound confidence.

Enok was staggered as he turned and stepped onto the side of a rock covered in soil. His body lurched forward, and he spun while letting both chains wrap around each other once again.

Because he'd lost his footing, the attack came at Mendo from a much lower angle, and he reacted by sprinting in and shouting:

"NOW!"

Mendo threw his sword to the right to collide with both chains, and then he stepped in as they knocked the ōdachi to the ground and smashed the earth next to him.

Mendo also had the ability to penetrate minds, and he stared into Enok's eyes before crying:

"Your name was Masumon! Masumon became a killer!"

Mendo formed symbols with rapid hand movements, reached his bloodied hand back, and he struck:

—SHINTE: UPEPO PUNCH—

Enok failed to react on time, and the canon of wind slammed into his body, causing him to merely step backward just as Mendo sprinted to grab his ōdachi at the exact moment it recoiled off the ground—

Mendo charged and slashed at Enok:

His blade intersected with Enok's chest, parting skin and flesh, then Enok stopped the blade with his bare hands.

Blood leaked down his body, and Enok produced a giddy laugh.

"THIS!" he exclaimed. "This is what I wanted!"

Mendo wrestled with his opponent's strength while he continued trying to force his blade through Enok's body.

Enok didn't falter. Instead, his strength doubled once he pushed back against his enemy. Mendo's arms began to shake, his eyes widened, and he panted as he gasped, "How c-can you still be standing... after everything we've done?"

"Ha!"

Enok breathed and focused:

He brought his hands to the middle of the ōdachi. His eyes turned to fiery spheres, and—

—SHUDO: SHATTERED STEEL—

The ōdachi broke into two parts, but Mendo continued his assault and thrusted the broken tip of his weapon toward Enok.

Enok stepped to the side and aimed his wrist with expert proficiency.

"Gotcha."

The spiked end of a chain pierced Mendo's chest and burrowed through his scapula, smacking against his lower back on the way out and forcing Mendo to his knees. Mendo lowered his ōdachi and tossed it to his right hand while gripping the bloody chain running through him with his left.

Enok extended his other wrist and set of chain links, his eyes fixed on Mendo.

"What can the Meiziki Clan hope to do against me without their star member? The Father will no longer threaten the Uesugi—"

"You mean," Mendo retorted, "what's left of it."

Enok drew Mendo toward him and close enough to grasp his neck while pressing his other wrist into his opponent's forehead.

"The last of the Nagao will fall, too, by my hands."

"So be it, Masumon... do your father proud."

"That's not my name!" Enok shouted.

His own anger provided him with enough of a distraction that he didn't anticipate my advance...

\--

After watching Mendo's swift loss, seeing him look so resigned changed how I felt. First, there was pity. Pity then shame and, in the end, anger. His will to win had inspired a sort of courage in me that rarely showed itself. I knew that I would die, but I rushed in to fight Enok anyways.

\--

Enok dropped Mendo and tried to turn to me, but I'd already flanked him and arced my fist back, fixated on protecting those around me, on finally proving myself.

—While my head was full of thoughts of revenge and anger I couldn't shake, my arm expanded—

I swung my fist into the side of Enok's face and sent him sprawling onto the ground.

I continued to run forward, avoiding Enok directly, and abruptly felt pain spread through the only arm I could use. It stiffened, and I realized that this was it.

I thought that Enok would already be preparing his next attack, with his mind set on crushing me in place, but something else overwhelmed my body as I inevitably spun to face my worst expectations.

My knees gave in, and I fell to the ground without maintaining any more control of myself. I'd activated my ability, but, this time, it came with a heavy price.

I could only look on as Enok steadily rose to his feet and nearly located me before he noticed that Mendo now strode toward him.

Mendo had reformed his broken ōdachi into an even shorter blade; it now resembled a small katana.

"Hmph." Enok frowned. "It seems the little brat's gone unconscious. That leaves just the two of us."

Although my vision began to blur, I couldn't help but force myself to watch as my mentor took his last stand against an insurmountable enemy.

This time, Enok generated a chain that was much shorter and thinner, and he produced the entirety of it in the same fashion Mendo had using Genesis. This chain, specifically, possessed a weighted ball at its end, and Enok changed his stance to favor a close-combat style. He could no longer strike Mendo from the same distance, and his aura had disappeared completely.

"You've brought me to my limit, Mendo." Enok panted, then he uttered a weak laugh.

His back consisted, mostly, of charred skin, and his chest was stained with splotches of both crimson and black. He held one hand in front of him, as if to aim, and swung the chain in the air overhead.

Mendo circled him with the katana and patiently waited for an opening. When Mendo stepped closer, Enok hopped back and kept his focus on discovering an opening of his own. Mendo advanced a second time, and he raised his blade before slashing down at Enok. Enok whipped his chain to strike the end of the katana, causing the sword to ricochet back, which also compelled Mendo to grunt as he struggled to hold his weapon in place. His attempt to regain control increased the pain in his battered hand, and so Mendo took to wielding his katana with only one.

Enok seized this advantage and went on the offensive. Each time he stepped toward his opponent, Enok whipped his chain to collide with Mendo's katana at different angles. Each time he struck, Mendo was forced to give up more ground. Mendo postured so that he stepped around a small, soil-coated rock but blocked the view of it from the front with one foot.

As Enok confidently continued to pursue him with relentless attacks, he overlooked what Mendo had hidden. He almost tripped after stepping on the same rock—

Mendo rushed in and kept his sword low; Enok clumsily swung down, but his opponent had already reacted and slashed upward and at the innermost part of the chain. Mendo's strike knocked his opponent's weapon in the opposite direction, which enabled him to advance and thrust at Enok's head.

Enok threw up his right hand and was unaffected when it was impaled by Mendo's katana.

To my amazement, Enok balled his injured hand into a fist that closed around the blade.

In that moment, he became something worse than a monster...

Enok's eyes were consumed with cerise flames that burned within the presence of an aura I'd never felt before—or, at least not to that degree. Not only was his body outlined in a red light, but the pressure induced by his power was unimaginable to me at that time.

His body doubled in size; he looked immense in contrast to Mendo.

"You've brought me to my limit," he said, "and now I'll surpass it!"

His body increased its mass once more, and the very width of his neck dwarfed any single muscle in Mendo's body. Static was given off by him and in ruby branches which distorted the air around them.

Mendo was able to use his agility one more time. He tried to flee while keeping his eyes on his enemy.

Enok responded swiftly; he aimed his wrist at Mendo and projected a chain with more speed than he'd ever demonstrated!

Mendo managed to wave his blade before him and caught the strike, which itself had enough force to send his sword flying from his grasp.

Simultaneously, a secondary chain emerged from the same hand and pierced the right side of Mendo's face. It claimed his eye, tore through bone, and Mendo reached for the wound while helplessly falling to the ground.

"ENOK!" he pleaded, "You've won—you have to stop this! ENOK!" Mendo reached for the fringes of his old friend's mind, but Enok simply shook him off and calmly walked his way.

Enok's aura flowed around him in a vast amount. His eyes shone with a grim determination.

I started to climb up to rest on my knees. One arm wouldn't respond to me, and the other had gone numb. I refused to examine my wounds any further, and I did everything I could to search deep and access whatever power I might have left over.

All the while, Enok taunted Mendo as he began quivering in agony.

"Do you now recognize the superior warrior—no!" he shouted, "The superior clan?

"The Uesugi were poised to take back our territory with the help of a god, but you tried to deny us that."

"Enok! Please... you don't have to keep on this path!"

"Hah," Enok roared. He excitedly gripped a total of four chains that extended from both wrists.

"I'm the only one left. I'm the only one who can stop the Meiziki Clan, and I will defend my name until the end!"

Mendo tried to respond, but he succumbed to his pain, and, unexpectedly, he fell unconscious.

Enok was shocked upon witnessing him faint.

He halted in place. Enok's demeanor changed to one of confusion, and anger surged again as he complained, "That's it?"

He gritted his teeth, then his expression went blank when his eyes met mine.

I was standing quite a distance away, but his interest was piqued.

"The last one standing, eh?"

He started walking in my direction, and the full weight of his power fell over me. I felt a cold chill run up my spine. I became increasingly aware of the gap of strength separating us.

"I really felt that punch from before. Now that ability..." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "that's definitely not something I'm used to seeing—I mean, not in weaklings like Mendo. Still, raw strike like that... hmm..."

He stopped for a moment and unconsciously reached for his chest.

"You've got... potential."

He struggled to catch his breath, uttered "damn," and tried to approach me again.

By his third step, Enok had slowed considerably.

"Heh. Had potential."

He looked up at me, clenching his jaw with an agonized expression.

"If I could move," he stuttered, "I would obliterate you—an-and then I'd go to the Father!

"I'D DESTROY HIM."

Enok grasped at his heart and groaned. He looked above me, toward the sky, and I noticed that veins now jutted out from his neck. His entire body reddened; he gasped as tears fell from his eyes.

"I won." he said.

Disorientation claimed him, then he stared at me. "You remember that, kid. You—" Enok coughed blood and sank lower to the ground.

"Remember," he spat, "that people like us can overpower the world. With enough strength... nothing is impossible."

Enok exhaled and spoke his last words:

"Go beyond the gods, even if they try to stop you."

Enok had put his body through extraordinary stress, so much that he'd triggered a heart attack. Enok collapsed onto his face, and, in an instant, his life faded. Despite the challenge he'd presented to us, Enok's last efforts had brought about the end of his life before he could've claimed a real victory.

When I looked for my companions, I found Abul, seemingly lifeless and prostrated, and Mendo, who continued to breathe in spite of his injuries. I was the only witness who remained conscious, stranded in an abandoned district, and I didn't have the strength to carry Mendo or Abul to safety. Instead of acting, like I was taught, I resigned myself to rest by one of the stone buildings until we were later discovered.
15

Dawn

\--

Tavon

\--

I WAS STARTLED AWAKE BY THE SOUND OF AN ENGINE THAT I KNEW MUST'VE BELONGED TO A CRUISER.

I feared that it might be the police, that the Citadel had taken action to stop the Mulungu, and that we'd be stuck in the center of it.

A dark, abnormally long cruiser hovered near to Mendo's broken body, and it stayed there for a time. I tried to move but doing so caused a sickening pain that I couldn't escape. I waited until the pain faded a little, and then I resumed focus on the newcomers. I'd never seen a cruiser so plain and in such a strange shape.

Its wide back doors swung ajar, and out stepped four individuals in unique, tailored suits. I wasn't able to make out any further details, at first, but, once they'd realized I was the only one who was responsive, the group came toward me in unison.

Five strangers had spaced themselves out and tensed in preparation for combat. Each one distinct from the other, but all were equally weird in both appearance and general demeanor:

There was Modagi, who was the First Seneschal, and he hunched low in a suit coated with a thin layer of chainmail; the red material making up the mail was made using the moa that the Meiziki had mined and used to their advantage in different modifications to weapons and armor. Modagi was a very elderly man; it was rumored that he'd lived for a hundred years, and the dozens of pronounced wrinkles over his withered skin was proof of that. His eyelids were narrow and shuttered black, beady eyes that stood in sharp contrast to his fragile figure. Although he used a metallic cane to get around, Modagi's eyes were splattered specks of a deep midnight that gazed out from malformed pupils surrounded by pink veins which tore multiple paths toward them. Modagi was bald but maintained a long, wispy white beard that he twirled as he approached. He rested his hands atop the cane and, when he'd come within a short distance, halted next to Ududa.

Ududa was the Second Seneschal as well as the only female in the group. Her body had been formed very oddly:

Ududa's top half, dressed in a gown of black mail, was elongated, and her spinal column extended up and forward to position her head, which was covered by an obscuring veil, far past her hips. Although her field of view should've been blocked, she was acutely aware of her surroundings and easily walked in line with the other Seneschals. Ududa was maybe a decade or two younger than Modagi, and she was the Father's personal medic. As she reached for the Third Seneschal, the gown fell away from her arm to reveal colorless and incredibly long hands with thin, curved digits that pressed against the tuxedo worn by a gigantic human.

"Ah-ah, don't be impulsive..."

The Third Seneschal, called 'Mr. Sensitive,' was not like any human I'd ever seen before. He was more monster than man, and he stood as tall as nine feet. Every part of his body seemed to be protected by thick muscle, and his arms encompassed the size of any around him. Mr. Sensitive didn't have hair, even his eyebrows were nonexistent, and he stood out as a plain-faced, expressionless giant in a tuxedo who didn't look capable of intelligent thought. His bright green eyes were fixated on the crippled form of Abul.

Labou was name of the Fourth Seneschal, and he had been appointed as the Father's official butler. Although the Father had chosen all five of them as his elite officers, Labou was the only one with whom he spoke during that time, as he'd become reclusive after years of leading the Meiziki. He dressed similarly to Mr. Sensitive, and the two of them didn't openly wield any means of defense other than their fists. Both had rolled back their sleeves, and Labou glanced back, occasionally, to ensure that the area behind them was clear. His blond hair was parted in the middle; it hung down his face and across sincere, grey eyes positioned above a thick, handlebar mustache that moved while he mumbled something I couldn't hear to the Fifth and final Seneschal, Jigen.

Jigen, a legendary swordsman of the Fourth Quadrant, came closer than the rest and gripped the handles of his two sheathed katanas while smiling wickedly.

He bared polished-white teeth and looked to be the youngest of them. His hair was slightly thin and a much starker shade of blond. He'd grown it to hang past his shoulders, and portions of it stuck out as though he'd just rolled out of bed. He wore a navy kimono with azure embroidery that flapped against the breeze and trailed behind his swift approach.

Before I could process what was going on, I heard the sound of steel, and Jigen's blades were at my throat.

He smirked at me, then I heard Modagi call:

"Step back, Seneschal Jigen!"

Jigen pivoted his torso to the right, keeping one katana thrusted toward my right eye, and gestured to Modagi with his other blade.

"Did you or did you not want to find out where that surge of power came from? If this kid's the only one left alive," his eyes flickered back to me, and he deepened his grin, "then I'd say that's a little suspicious, wouldn't you?"

"You can't fool me, Jigen—I can hear it in your words." Modagi barked back, "Don't you go and kill him just because you don't recognize one of Mendo's pupils."

Jigen paused... then he relaxed his posture. He raised his eyebrows at me, sheathing his katanas as he exclaimed, "You mean, he's not one of the Uesugi?"

"Absolutely not." Modagi replied and started to walk toward the body of Enok. "You should know better, Jigen. A power signature at that level wouldn't belong to a kid like that. No. Instead,"—he prodded Enok's corpse—"remember to trace energy if you ever doubt its source."

"Tch." Jigen straightened and surveyed the battlefield. "Whatever, old man. I came here expecting a real fight," he pointed to me, "and all I've found is a kid who's half-dead!"

Ududa never rose her voice past a low, gentle pitch. The soft tone she took was naturally calming, and she said, "We've come to the end of a vicious struggle."

She moved to slowly crouch over Mendo while pressing two fingers to his carotid. She ran them along his body before looking at Modagi and shaking her head.

"He's not got much will left. If we don't leave soon, Lieutenant Mendo will perish here."

Ududa made eye contact with Labou, who did nothing to indicate that he'd acknowledged her statement.

"What the hell is this thing?" Jigen stood over the pure grey and battered form of Abul.

Labou waved him away as he approached my fallen companion. When he spoke, his voice had an almost musical element to it and echoed polite sentiments: "This 'thing' is the demon assigned to Mendo after he and that youth over there brought the Meiziki Clan an unexpected gift...

"I'm afraid there might not be much left of him."

"Strange," Modagi began, "I sensed at least four distressed zol signatures. The Uesugi Clan seems to have put up a good fight. For it all to have come down to this group is quite unusual."

"The Mulungu made a world of its own." Ududa gave her attention to the vacuous sphere that still hovered above.

"Indeed." Modagi replied, "Maybe their last effort to stop us from claiming the Fourth Quadrant."

"What a terrible choice," mused Ududa when she came to stand by the First Seneschal.

"Hey, kid! You know it's rude to stare—what happened here?" Jigen strode toward me, headfirst.

There was something burning inside of him, like he'd wanted to endure the nightmare we had for himself; it was the same passion I'd seen in Enok.

A siren resounded, twice, with a low but powerful pitch and spread throughout the decimated battlefield.

Labou gasped, covering his mouth with one hand. "Oh my, they're already here."

"Damn," Modagi exclaimed, abruptly perking up in anticipation of what would come next.

He turned but wasn't as quick as Jigen, who'd already discontinued my interrogation to walk out into the distance as we saw what was on the horizon...

A cruiser approached.

Its exterior was formed from Moa, compressed into a smaller size than that of typical cruisers. This cruiser was featureless, like the Meiziki's, except for having the shape of a stretched, metallic disk with mounted, miniature cylinders which acted as gun turrets.

When it appeared that the pilot had taken notice of us, he doubled his speed and raced toward our position.

"Yeah!" Jigen tensed his hands around his katanas while holding them out and at his sides. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Another challenger."

"Jigen!" Modagi bellowed. "We cannot risk engaging them—don't you recognize that vessel?"

The cruiser came close to colliding with Jigen before it halted directly in front of their group.

I didn't see any structural differences in what I thought was a vehicle that couldn't be entered nor exited. I'll admit that I was kinda shocked when the top of it elevated, rotated away, and exposed a dark hole from which sprang two figures. They climbed out from opposite sides to somersault onto the ground and recovered by shifting into crouched firing stances. Both newcomers aimed their glistening rifles at us.

One of them was a tall guy in golden-plated mail containing millions of ridges that tightened into clusters around different sections of it. These ridges glowed with a blue neon light that traced the entirety of the armor, and he'd come equipped with a holographic helmet that could block attacks provided his battle suit possessed enough remaining energy; on his back, the wide hilt of a greatsword with a curved end extended above his head, and he reached behind himself to grasp its handle with one arm.

At his side was not a human but a sentinel manufactured by the Dawn Federation military, and its entire body was composed of a more symmetrical version of the former's armor. The sentinel was a much darker grey and looked as if it had been crudely sculpted to mirror a medieval knight. Encased in a narrow helm, with small slits arranged in five rows, there was a neural network that allowed the machine to process its environment and obey the commands of a human pilot.

"Ah..." Jigen sighed, shuddering as he struggled to control his lust for blood. "A Dawn Knight."

Jigen positioned his feet so that he'd be ready to sprint into action whenever.

"In the name of the Dawn Federation, and for the glory of President Derek, I, Sir Hitondo, place the lot of you under arrest!"

"You've gotta be joking," Jigen replied.

"JIGEN!" Modagi shouted at the top of his lungs. "Do NOT engage him! These are the Citadel authorities!"

"A large portion of the Fourth Quadrant has disappeared, not to mention numerous members of the Citadel's police force. It is my duty to question all survivors of this incident."

As Modagi started to raise his hands in surrender, Sir Hitondo stood, gripped his rifle while staring down the barrel intently, and gestured for his synthetic companion to lower its weapon so that he could take command.

But Jigen refused to give in. He stepped toward Sir Hitondo.

"I take it you just 'arrest' anyone you please then, Sir Hit?"

"E-excuse me?" Hitondo approached Jigen while brandishing his gun.

"What evidence do you have that we were involved with—No!" Jigen snarled, "What gives you the RIGHT to take us under your charge with no evidence?"

"Okay." Hitondo nodded and aimed the barrel directly at Jigen's head. "Looks like you'll be the first one to be restrained. The question is: will you comply with the law or will you resist and make me work for it," he chuckled.

I thought that Jigen would strike, that he would pull off an amazing feat and disable the Knight, but he merely lowered his weapons and smirked at Sir Hitondo.

"I would resist... but I don't think you could take it."

"Oh?" Hitondo moved back and relaxed his grip on his firearm. His holographic shield dissolved around a head with dirty blond hair and a high-and-tight haircut. He rocked a yellow goatee with auburn strands intermixed.

"Are you claiming that you'd stand any sort of chance against a Dawn Knight?"

"One of 'Derek's dogs' is the more correct term."

Jigen's haunting grin returned.

"The Dawn Knights pride themselves on being special.

"The truth is that, when the opportunity for a sanctioned duel presents itself, they no longer feel like wearing the honor they so cherish. Sir Hitondo, are you not permitted to engage in duels with those you deem to be dangerous?"

"That's how it used to work, in the Old World," Hitondo began, "but the Knights of the Dawn Federation cannot continue to be known as harassers of the public."

"Then what else are you?"

"Huh?" Jigen's question and disrespect put the Knight into a state of vexation.

"That's enough, Jigen!" Modagi insisted.

Ududa chimed in, "Jigen, if you kill a Knight, the Fourth Quadrant could face martial law! This part of the city would be swarming with the authorities. Listen to Modagi and stand down!"

"What she says is not necessarily true." Hitondo lowered his weapon completely.

"Dawn Knights are permitted to indulge in duels if they can justify the violence that may result. I have the authority to arrest you, but I may also challenge you. Hmph." Hitondo paused, then he said, "If you can defeat me in a duel honorably, then you've won your freedo—"

"Sounds easy enough." Jigen responded too quickly.

"You are a fool, Jigen." Modagi shook his head.

"No." Sir Hitondo said politely; he acknowledged Jigen, "If the suspect truly wishes to claim his innocence through combat, then why should I stop him?"

Hitondo threw his rifle to his companion and drew the greatsword on his back.

Metal scraped together, and a spark of emerald electricity was emitted as he held the weapon with both hands and steadied it in front of himself. Hitondo leaned forward and kept his gaze fixed on Jigen.

Around the body of the blade, there was wrapped a complicated network of coils that looked to be the fusion of fibers with fragments of a strange wood. Whenever he moved or adjusted the greatsword, the green light arced through each fiber and caused his blade to tremble.

"Impressive!" Jigen's eyes lit up. "I dig the presentation, you feisty mutt, but do you know how to use it?"

"Ha!" Hitondo grinned through his clenched jaws.

"All it takes is one hit, and this fight's finished," he said. "This sword can send a shock through you so strong that you'll change your mind about ever challenging a Dawn Knight again."

"I don't expect much."

Jigen dashed up to the Knight before Hitondo could react—instead, Hitondo was taken aback at Jigen's speed, and he hurried to raise his blade in time to absorb Jigen's first strike!

Instead of swinging through, Jigen started to slash horizontally with his left katana and threw the weapon before he could finish the attack:

His katana clanged against the greatsword, causing Sir Hitondo to flinch. Jigen broke his opponent's guard and moved under the greatsword. He slashed at Hitondo's abdomen with his right blade, but it recoiled off dense armor while Jigen stumbled past his opponent.

Hitondo regained his composure, turned, and swung the whole of his greatsword diagonally. Jigen leaned back to avoid the tip of the blade as it nearly grazed his forehead, and he rushed in just as Hitondo slashed the air in front of him again. When Hitondo had missed him a second time, Jigen ducked under the blade and thrusted his katanas forward, barely creating one dent with his right sword, and Hitondo staggered before tumbling forward and having to perform a clumsy somersault before he could return to his feet.

Hitondo panted with effort, then he pivoted to charge at his opponent; Jigen sidestepped his advance, and Hitondo grunted as he slashed through the wind in front of himself. The greatsword's trajectory ended at his side, but Hitondo maintained its momentum and rotated to thrust it down from a high angle—

The point of his blade passed through a tuft of Jigen's hair, and Jigen responded by madly swinging his blades at Hitondo's armor.

Each time he struck, his katanas rebounded, but he absorbed the shock and swung horizontally at the Knight again and again. His relentless attacks pushed Hitondo backward, with the weight of both the greatsword and his armor preventing him from mounting a decent offense.

Hitondo finally made his move: he hefted his sword in front in time to catch one of Jigen's attacks.

At once, Jigen swatted the tip of Hitondo's blade and sliced through the Knight's left cheek—

Jigen was electrocuted in place and remained paralyzed as the Knight lifted his blade, poising himself to decapitate the Fifth Seneschal!

Jigen's pent-up energy released:

He jumped forward and fell into a roll in time to dodge the greatsword. It thumped against hard earth, and an electrical jolt flew through Sir Hitondo, who seemed even more affected by it and couldn't break his paralysis.

"A-all right!" Jigen exhaled with effort and brought his legs together while he averted his eyes.

He then closed them as he raised his head and his twin swords to the skies. After Jigen had taken a deep breath, his attitude changed.

He said, almost meekly, "I'm not one of the Awakened..." Jigen smiled. "But those who've mastered Twin Iron Shinte understand that the Path of Two Swords can be manipulated,"—he extended his left katana and held it vertically as he raised the other above his head and brought it back to aim its point toward the Knight—"that bursts of magnificent strength can be obtained with careful observance of Shinte.

Hitondo attempted to speak but stuttered nonsensibly while trying to collect his thoughts. His body heaved with exasperation; he struggled to keep his weapon above ground level.

"You're full of shit," he said. "If you're so confident, then come at me."

As if on cue, the wind picked up around Jigen.

I witnessed small traces of static—much smaller than the traces produced by Mendo or Enok, and his body doubled, triple, and shifted between several forms that all stepped forward at different moments in time, afterimages that lowered their left katanas and crossed them with their opposite blades in dozens of instances. They slid their blades together once more, and then...

Hundreds of Jigens traveled through time. They emerged in front of Hitondo before anyone could actually perceive their movements—

—TWIN IRON SHINTE: FIFTY CUTS—

Jigen's left blade struck the side of Hitondo's armor, and a sharp ringing ensued as the whole of his sword pierced it in a long cut across the torso. His second sword flew in from the opposite angle and tore through Hitondo's armor yet again, shredding bits of steel that were thrown through the air. The afterimages of Jigen convalesced; all of them reflected the form of the Fifth Seneschal crouching and delivering a flurry of swings from each side. Jigen raced inside of the Knight's guard every time Hitondo attempted to step back, and he was far too slow to keep up as steel decimated his protection, cutting skin beneath.

By the forty-third strike, Jigen's left sword was shattered into two halves.

On the forty-fourth, the right was destroyed but not before the end portion became lodged between Hitondo's armor and his ribcage. The point of the blade had shattered bone on impact and sunk into his chest, causing blood to ooze from the wound while he kept defending himself.

When Jigen had slashed through the Knight's armor for the fiftieth time—and with the flat end of his halved sword—it fell to pieces and exposed a white jumpsuit marked with chaotically arranged blue lines. Sir Hitondo panicked.

He screamed, "Stop! I surrender!"

"Ha."

Jigen stared him down. His breathing intensified, both forearms having been drained of color; each limb had swelled up to an abnormal size, and Jigen's face paled after having performed a devastating maneuver.

"Who... who do you think I am?" he asked, not expecting a response. "This duel was always meant to be to the death—I mean, just look at us." Jigen's voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed a deep hunger that he couldn't control.

"We're criminals. Diametrically opposed to you, Sir Hit. I'm afraid there's only one way this ends."

"JIGEN!" Modagi moved to break up the fight, but Hitondo had already formulated a new plan.

Sir Hitondo rushed to grab his rifle from his companion and tripped, falling to the ground just after retrieving it. He rolled onto his side and then grunted in pain as he tried to stand and aim the barrel at Jigen.

He pulled the trigger.

Ududa reached out reflexively: her hand extended and broke down into a sticky, webbed substance that projected toward Jigen's position—

Webbing formed around Jigen's exposed figure, and the orb of compressed heat that served as the ammunition for this rifle collided with his new layer of defense. The ball of energy blew Jigen back and pressed itself into the web before imploding and breaking the artificial shield.

Jigen was quick; he spread his feet, positioning one before the other, and then he broke into a sprint.

Jigen suddenly loomed over Sir Hitondo—

He slashed his enemy's throat using the flat end of his right katana. Jigen lunged, thrusting his blade through Hitondo's stomach, then he looked into his eyes after he'd impaled him.

"Had you mastered your technique you might've been a challenge." Jigen declared and relaxed, taking extreme pleasure in having conquered his opponent. "But your equipment was too heavy—too above you, and your form was poor."

"Goddammit, Jigen!" Modagi turned toward the Citadel's sentinel, who'd already set his sights on Jigen after obtaining a clear shot.

Ududa used her other hand to toss an object at the sentinel's feet. The remaining enemy looked down and failed to move when a silver grenade exploded and produced a thick cloud of black smoke.

I thought that would've been the end of it, but the smoke eventually cleared, and the military sentinel remained in place. Its rifle had exploded as well, decimating a significant portion of what had once been its left arm. The rest of its body was covered in soot and was melted in some spots.

It raised its other arm, and its hand disappeared into a crevice that served another function within the sentinel's range of abilities: it created a canon, and the sentinel fixed its full attention on Jigen.

Labou stepped in to intervene.

His footsteps were heard by the sentinel, and it turned to change its immediate target. The butler spread his palms and brought his hands out before clapping them together:

Sheathes of metal ejected from his sleeves, wrapping around his knuckles in multiple slender plates.

Labou's body twitched, and his fist soared with the speed of a lightning bolt—

He struck the sentinel's head, generating force that knocked it back. Labou closed the distance between them, and his body twitched twice as he delivered two swift and separate punches with surprising dexterity. The cybernetic soldier's aim was disrupted, and it fired off a burst of heat energy into the skies while it tried to target Labou.

Labou twitched, threw another punch, and the sentinel, to everyone's shock, caught his fist.

Mr. Sensitive, with metallic knuckles of his own, struck the sentinel in the back its head, creating a pronounced dent and immediately knocking it to the ground.

Ududa acted next, and she used her web ability to bind the sentinel in place.

Jigen panted, struggling to walk. Since he'd taken himself past his limits, he was barely able to move, but he steadily made his way toward the Meiziki cruiser.

"My goodness..." Modagi exclaimed. "Slaying an officer of the law is one thing, Jigen, but capturing Citadel technology could put us under much more scrutiny. If the authorities discover that we have one of their own, we'll face the wrath of the Dawn Federation."

"Or," Ududa began as she stared at the sentinel, which still fought against its bindings after having suffered so much damage, "we may use Citadel technology to our advantage, Seneschal Modagi.

"Mr. Sensitive—" Ududa nodded toward the sentinel, and the giant Mr. Sensitive strode over to pick it up from behind and drag it toward the cruiser.

"If we can use nanobots to increase our empire," she said, "then we might as well keep evolving to stay up to date with our enemies in the meantime."

"Seneschal Ududa, if the Meiziki clash with the police, the casualties inflicted—"

"It doesn't matter!" Jigen barked. "Just get everyone in the fucking cruiser before more of them show. They'll blame it on the Mulungu."

"Or on us," Modagi murmured quietly before he turned his attention to me.

"Come." he said. "We must meet with the Father."
\---

PART THREE

The Hero Zunaga

\---
1

Amaresula

\---

Janelle

\---

A CORRODED AND OBTUSE PRISON HUNG FROM CHAINS THAT BEGAN AT THE LOWER-CITY, next to a cluster of power stations, and ended at a wide landing pad. The top of this prison was encircled in a black, glass dome that extended into a wide tower made from moa and steel alloys; it possessed a series of levels, each of which were marked by outcroppings of blue glass that rounded about every level to create gardens and living facilities segregated from the inside of the massive structure. At its bottom, the right section of the tower had been rusted, marred in a diagonal pattern of rot that ridged downward and then horizontally, ending the prison in a rounded protrusion.

The Citadel Prison was known for its tendency to sway in the atmosphere; for the first time in almost a decade, it had stopped and remained rigid in place, as if something greater than the prison was holding it in its grasp and cradling a power that only the keenest could feel.

An oppressive sensation worked its path up the Prison and easily shocked President Derek, who had recognized and was responding to an invitation from an old acquaintance.

\---

President Derek wore a white robe with navy embroidery stitched on each shoulder of the garment. His robe was open down the middle and exposed a black torso covering that was made distinct by greyed, octagonal plates that stood out from the body armor in various areas. The material itself was composed of miniature, octagonal links, and it supplemented what he used as his primary defense against potential assassination attempts:

To protect himself, he had brought along a unique type of double-headed hammer, one with a smaller width that was compensated with a bladed point extending from the middle of each hammer's end. Derek carried it on his back as he took a marble path inside the lower end of the prison, toward the Fourth Level.

Both the Third and Fourth Levels were very much unlike the rest of the prison and were remarkable due to having been constructed from material that could not be found anywhere else within the city-nation.

Before the Citadel had experienced its first civil war, the process of Texturalogy was invented.

With the use of advanced computerized processors, combined with ongoing research in biosynthesis, engineers of the past had used Federation processing systems to create a different type of matter. Entities could be created in the virtual world, and compression of these identities into millions of angular folds resulted in enough energy to transfer digital information into physical information. Regular steel and moa were inserted into molding machines attached to a Texturalogical instrument, and these metals were infused with the complete energy of every possible fold and configuration. Production of this material was expensive, time consuming, and often yielded sparse results.

President Derek had invested in further efforts to contain what he feared would be the worst possible criminals to exist in his new government. He fortified the last two Levels of the prison with what he classified as Netite: the material produced by Texturalogy and directly powered by a network which simultaneously delivered energy back into the building.

Put simply, the strength of a given processing system matched the strength of its resulting netite, which was considered, by Derek, to be the strongest matter in existence. He created strange, private prisons to house the aggressive offenders of Level Three as well as the most dreadful of Level Four.

\---

When President Derek had attempted to enter Level Four, he was confronted with a series of azure, holographic gates which scanned his body every time he passed through another entrance.

Netite had created space within space, causing the inside of the lower prison to house a much more massive world than the rest of its interior. President Derek strode into a universe of lavender neon etches that made up the whole of the Third Level and was uniform across the simulated environment surrounding him.

A path formed from a grand multitude of numerical symbols that remained in flux while it created a trail through the center and then split off into three different roads. Odd, glass shapes hovered through the air around the way, and it looked as though it floated above an expanse of continuous bulbs. These bulbs contained small cells that glided through the abyss of the third Level, which was dark except for the neon lines below that appeared in infrequent patterns. Each orb was composed of netite, and this netite was currently programmed to appear as transparent cages that could be used at any time by the Warden to survey the Third Level.

Once Derek reached the divide, he took the left path and descended into a place that wasn't as well-lit and was somewhat obscured by dense fog. This trail spiraled downward, finally spreading out into an oval foundation that was also composed of stark-white, digital numbers.

Another series of cyber gates remained at the east end of the platform.

At the west end, President Derek had imprisoned and housed the foulest serial killer ever unleashed on the Citadel public:

Shenu—better known as, "Blood Storm."

\---

Out of all those incarcerated on the Fourth Level, it was decided by the Federation to prioritize Shenu's place at what would have been the very bottom of the prison had there not been another who surpassed even his malice.

Concerning the Fourth Level, however, Shenu had distinguished himself by having deliberately murdered, approximately, a grand total of a thousand citizens.

Two years ago, Shenu commenced a killing rampage that was marked by brief periods of rest and followed by massive attacks that eventually drew the attention of the authorities. Shenu was captured, branded by the public as a psychopathic scourge, and, according to the terms of his punishment, was housed within netite that was designed to replay memories which were extracted from his mind.

By forcing Shenu to repeatedly watch the same moments from his life, including his previous violent actions, Derek effectively isolated the serial killer in a pit of his own madness. The cell of Shenu drifted through the expanse and right before the entrance to a secret room at the very bottom of the prison.

Shenu, naked and beyond any fathomable grip of sanity, hugged his knees to his chest and rocked on the floor while the image of him as a baby flashed onto the screen behind him. His hair was long enough to reach past the whole length of his body and was an unusually bright ruby color, contrasting against a face which lacked eyebrows and unkempt facial hair made up of invariable shades of red and black. His body had shrunk since Derek had last seen him, and all that remained of Shenu was a young adult who had been turned into a frail, suffering prisoner.

He knew that Derek had arrived.

The President turned to address Shenu, but Shenu interrupted him before he could begin—

"You shouldn't have come back..."

Shenu stood and kept his eyes fixed ahead as he clenched his small fists. Small, ruby sparks sometimes pierced the air around his body and appeared in sync with random spasms which were constantly triggered in his back muscles.

"Why is that, Shenu?"

"Tch!" Shenu spat and then paused for a moment. He smirked.

Shenu said, "You're going to get me worked up again, Mr. President."

Shenu turned to face him. He smiled, and his teeth were so exposed that his expression was one which had haunted the President for longer than he could have known.

"I'm going to have sweet dreams!" he exclaimed and continued to smile as tears welled up at the corners of each eye. "I'll dream of burning down your home, chasing your wife and son! I'll dream of the looks they have when their bodies become wet, wet with putrid flesh, and I'll force little Naomasa, son of Derek, to choke and shit himself when I kill him—it's all very pleasing, Mr. President, and I very much wish—oh, I do so wish, Mr. President, that I might sever your head and MAKE IT BLOW ME!"

Shenu's expression contorted into an agonized mask of impotent fury; he spat and snarled at Derek as sweat quickly formed and ran down the sides of his face.

"You insufferable bitch! Despicable ruler, fake messiah!" Shenu growled; his sparks grew in number and frequency.

His eyes became burning coals that teemed with fierce, violet veins sprouting from each iris.

"Yeah. That's right...

"You're the real murderer," he said. "I grew up with only one purpose, and you're the reason for that purpose, Derek—this is your nation, after all, so why couldn't you be my hero when I needed you?"

The President's demeanor never changed, and, due to his attention being mostly focused elsewhere, he failed to acknowledge Shenu's outburst.

"No one made you this way, Blood Storm," Derek replied, with no emotion. "You speak evil. You see evil. You do evil...

"Shenu, you are the very essence of depravity, and I feel no remorse for someone like you."

"HA!" he screamed just when a jet of pure electricity arced over and above his head.

Shenu swung both of his hands to his waists, keeping his palms facing downward, and he grunted as bolts of red lightning issued forth from his hands:

They exploded against the netite flooring.

The netite recoiled then quickly reformed as streaks of flames remained where he had struck. His aura became the color of mottled flesh, and the static conduction around him increased in proportion to his fury.

In response, the image of him as an infant flickered and produced a harsh sound signaling its malfunction.

"All my life, I thought I'd been born in Hell—that this world was a punishment because I couldn't naturally exist in a world that was good.

"You made it worse, Derek; you caged me within an eternity of pitiful attempts to correct my soul."

Shenu lowered his head while focusing his glare on Derek. "You just don't understand. You can't make your utopia, Mr. President, and that's because—b-because it's impossible, and you can be sure that I'll return the favor for all of this—don't you see, you idiot!" he shrieked, "It's only a matter of time before I break this spell!"

Rounded arcs of lightning projected from his body and struck the edges of his cell; the glass orb flickered, becoming opaque under intersecting and disjointed black and white pigments. When his cell became transparent once more, it revealed Shenu, with his legs spread into a wide stance and his body rotated to the side. His head was still turned toward Derek as he extended one arm.

"With this!" he began, "I'll kill the President of the Citadel! I'll break free!"

His pupils disappeared behind veins which resembled lightning.

"I'LL BREAK FREE, AND THIS TIME—"

He focused his aura into one hand, and red bolts were drawn toward his fingertips, which blocked any further view of him behind a veritable storm of electric fire.

From beneath red lightning that spread out and formed fiery trees, Shenu cried: "I'LL PUNISH YOU, DEREK!"

Great power surged and disappeared from Shenu's one palm; it flew toward the President, screeching as it cracked through the atmosphere and made contact with the surrounding netite.

Violet energy rebounded off the cell, forcing a shockwave to course through the container and produce another glitch in its programming, and it then converged on itself and imploded, blasting Shenu back while creating a small fissure within the wall which separated Derek and his prisoner.

After the smoke had cleared, Shenu stood, brushing his hair away from a fresh burn mark impressed into most of the right side of his face.

The smell of charred flesh waded from his cell, and arbitrary sections of Shenu's body appeared smoldered. He shook with renewed rage.

Shenu fired another burst of energy at the rupture he had made from his last strike.

President Derek gripped his weapon tightly and started to fear what Shenu might be capable of if he managed to break through his cage.

"Oh yes!" Shenu exclaimed. "It's working!"

"Enough of this, Shenu!"

Derek readied his great hammer and reddened with anticipation. Without allowing himself to express his true feelings, the President maintained his resolve and stood prepared to confront the wrath of Blood Storm.

Shenu focused energy into his blackened arm; he sneered at his enemy, and Shenu—

Thick tunnels of smoke glided in from the outside of the cell and flowed toward the fissure. The crack in the cell's exterior widened, creaking as long appendages composed of golden smog filtered inside, startling Shenu. His aura quickly faded, and he staggered away from the smog's embrace while peering at it with incredulity.

"What kind of magic is this?" he screamed and looked out at Derek. "You're nowhere near my level of ability! B-but..." His eyes became wide.

"This feeling..."

Clouds of smoke were attracted to Shenu and caused him to involuntarily cough as they crowded his body.

Shenu leapt back and threw a solid bolt of lightning forward and into the center of the fog—

Dark particles split as the bolt exploded, but the smoke reformed and doubled in its presence before it engulfed Shenu yet again. Thick, defined pillars wrapped around his body, restraining Shenu despite his efforts to strengthen his aura. The more he tried to resist, the tighter the smog's hold, and sparks radiated from him as he struggled against his new bonds in futility.

Shenu writhed beneath his bindings, and he shouted:

"FUCK YOU, DEREK! Another pathetic, goddamned trick!"

"Courtesy of yours truly," said the source.

A man with an impressive grey afro and dark shades approached with a lazy swagger. He seemed to float rather than step closer, and his expression was cold. This stranger sported an unkempt, charcoal-colored goatee which reached down in a narrow wisp that touched the center of his chest. The skin on his neck was dark, wrinkled, and mottled but was mostly hidden by a long, white collar that stood out from a golden, pinstriped suit. The newcomer was adorned with a brown tie which was patterned in the fashion of alligator skin and matching a pair of alligator-skinned loafers with the same design. He held an unusually long and thin, black pipe, which was attached to a circular bowl that was encrusted with dark steel, and he blew forth a stream of smoke toward Shenu's cell.

After he had exhaled, it expanded and joined with the smog restraining Shenu.

"Wait!" Shenu exclaimed, "I-I didn't mean to hurt those people!"

He began to tear up as he pleaded with the President, "Please don't think that—that I'm like that!"

"Like what?" Derek said and didn't budge; his eyes shifted between Shenu and the newcomer.

"A fucking monster! You don't understand what I've been through—"

"You're a hated man."

Derek lowered his guard and turned to address the stranger. He retained his grip on his weapon while nodding curtly.

"Grandmaster Ayer Kei."

"Good to see ya, brotha man." the Grandmaster offered his hand in a gesture of friendship and looked at Derek earnestly.

Derek pretended not to take notice, and Kei was somewhat taken aback; he let his arm drop and inhaled deeply.

Kei exhaled another dark cloud and raised his right eyebrow in genuine curiosity as he asked, "Can't recognize an old friend?"

"I don't have time to entertain any guests." Derek responded and then looked back toward Shenu.

Shenu, in his last efforts to overcome his bindings, screeched and was promptly surrounded in a field of condensed, ruby static which radiated from him as his screeching increased to a level fierce enough to rattle the cage of netite.

Shenu's aura exploded, rebounding against the confines of the cell and spreading the fissure that separated him from his freedom.

Derek looked to his left to observe Ayer Kei, and, from beneath his fine blazer, the Grandmaster shuddered slightly. A small vein bulged out from his neck, and Kei sighed, as if already exhausted with a battle of wills.

Columns of smoke shrunk into smaller forms which tunneled into Shenu's nose, mouth, eyes, and ears.

He gagged and choked before hoarsely shouting: "F-FILTHY... BITCH! I'll ram my cock down your beloved wife's throat!"

Black smoke filled his lungs, and he screamed, "DOWN HER THROAT!"

Shenu doubled over and struggled to breathe against Kei's ability; the Grandmaster began to chuckle.

"You're not permitted to kill him."

"And I won't, my man," Kei replied, "but would it be so troubling if I did?"

"..."

Derek paused and contemplated something far removed as his eyes searched Shenu.

"He was a student."

"Come again?"

Kei pursed his lips and took another puff as he waited for Derek to continue...

"In the Citadel, each Zone is encouraged to develop its own standards of procedure for obtaining certifications for employment. Any major occupation usually requires documentation which hails from years of proven ability in academics.

"On the contrary, Grandmaster Kei, one who attends one of our 'Universities' may have the privilege of acquiring a degree for more lucrative work. The esteemed Upper-City universities allow citizens to become physicians, law ministers, and cyber security specialists who will be recognized in any Zone.

"Getting licensure through the Upper-City can ensure future success and prosperity... and Shenu was on this path."

"I see." Kei studied the President with renewed curiosity. "Most cats, Mid-City and below, don't think on all that, you know."

"No." Derek confronted the Grandmaster. "You do not think on what it means to be a citizen, for you are the face of killers everywhere."

"Sanctioned killers."

"Not by me."

"By the Dawn Federation. And by Ishida."

"Ha!" Derek smiled, crossing his arms. "Had I known better, that alliance that would have been shattered long ago."

"Well, you see, brother, that's simply not true." Kei held out a scolding finger and inhaled before continuing to speak through smoke:

"Though you might've been a real cat when it came to the strategy game, some might say Ishida was the true player."

"If that is so," Derek asked smugly, "then where is he now? Will he be able to defend the Association of Killers in my absence?"

"The Association doesn't need defending, my brother; on the other hand," he nodded toward Shenu, "It's the Federation that needs what we bring to the table—the world will always need us."

"So that you can commit the atrocities Shenu has and deem yourselves worthy of respect? Listen:

"Shenu majored in biotechnology at the Jakuniao Foundation. Reportedly, he demonstrated a lackluster performance in his last year. I'm told that, during the timing of his final practical exams, Shenu's mother, who resided in Zone C, left his father and never reached out him.

"She simply abandoned them, and Shenu's father lost his job after a work injury prevented him from performing to standard.

"Shenu didn't pass his exams. In trying to locate his mother and find a way to pay for his father's housing, he had come under significant pressure... and he lost hold of his sanity. No one knows what exactly triggered his outburst—whether it was a tumultuous relationship at school, his academic failure, or his family situation remains to be decided, but how Shenu reacted, Grandmaster Kei, was completely unexpected."

"And I suppose that's why he's here?" Kei inquired.

Shenu had fallen unconscious. The mass of smoke thinned and dispersed around the body of a young man who had curled up upon the floor of his cell.

Derek looked down and retreated inside his thoughts.

"At the Jakuniao Foundation, there was an incident that no one could have anticipated.

"Shenu changed. He Awakened to It."

"Zol."

"Indeed. Shenu Awakened to a terrible power, and he used this power to attack and kill those who had attended the institution a short while after having completed his practicals. He discovered that he could create a type of lightning capable of searing flesh and setting mass fires at a rate most would have thought of as unstoppable."

"Shenu's a mass murderer."

"Yes." Derek replied, "At the age of twenty-two, he killed more than any other criminal in Citadel history. He was officially diagnosed with bipolar disorder...

"As you can see, Grandmaster, that diagnosis is useless to us now."

"So what, man? You came all this way to see a member of society you threw away?"

"No." Derek said. "Though I'd expected the possibility of mass shooting incidents, I was confident that the combined efforts of the police, the Knights, the Bureau, and, as a last measure, the Association, would be enough to combat any real threats—but this..."

He shook his head. "I never imagined that the true threat could exist within mankind, that no weapon could dictate the actions of a species which constantly strives to evolve itself, and now—now, Grandmaster, the Prison has stopped swaying."

"What are you saying, fool? Did I catch that right?"

Derek turned his back to him and pivoted to face the next series of gates, toward the entrance of the lowest floor, as he lowered his weapon and stared forward of himself with dread which was more than perceptible.

Subsequent to having witnessed Derek's extreme change in demeanor, the Grandmaster pressed him further:

"It's not just me then," he said. "That power I've been feeling this whole time. That's some real shit, Mr. President."

"And you'll promise me not to speak of it?"

Derek waited for Kei's response.

"What are you hiding, Mr. President?"

"Something far beyond anyone's control. Grandmaster, the Prison stopped swaying, and we can't let anyone know why."

"Is that so?" Kei's expression changed to one of astonishment. "If you're so spooked, Sir, then why not let me take care of it for you?"

"Grandmaster," Derek said, "were I to put you in that cell, I fear that the city itself might be destroyed if you two made contact."

"You think I live only to kill?"

"Return to whatever task you had planned before you came this way, and it's best that you forget our encounter altogether; Grandmaster Kei, you have gone too deep this time, and I will charge you criminally if you proceed past this point."

"Hmph. That's how you're gonna carry it, huh?"

Derek moved to stand before the first gate as it initiated its scanning process.

"Show gratitude." He said, and the gate issued a confirmatory bleep prior to it fading as it granted further passage.

"Gratitude?"

The President glanced back and grinned. "You came here to select another one of Them, right?"

"Why, what else would you expect out of the Association, Mr. President?"

"That method of recruitment is illegal, and I could stop you..."

Derek resumed his journey to the lowest floor.

"But, on this day, there are greater enemies to fight."

\---

Derek

\---

Amaresula was a magnificent city.

It was a precious, glimmering hope which shined above a world rotted from war, sin, and human hunger, the City on the Hill; it was a paradise far to the east of the Citadel that existed as a testament to human will.

Amaresula was perched upon crested rock that extended over the cliff of a great mountain, and its southmost quarter became a ridgeline which swept green pastures and recesses exposing the darkened soil and minerals that made up the landscape. Against a world of demons, Amaresula held territory in both the skies and most of the valleys below the ridgeline, and its streets of polished, viridescent marble circled and carved many paths around housing constructed from steel, glass, and plaster. Each dwelling reached skyward, beaming various neon lights through squared windows.

Amaresula was a beautiful city.

Year round, the city was safe from temperature extremes and suffered only periods of constant rain; when the rain came, people spoke of how all of Amaresula became a distinct source of light which penetrated the emptiness of the world's nights and was protected by one essential foundation in mind.

Amaresula was an innovative city.

The base of it, which was a flexible alloy that encompassed the outline of Amaresula's territory, represented a step forward for an earth-bound civilization. Amaresulans spread soil over this alloy; they then developed synthetic plants and meat to sustain themselves, alongside gardens that sprouted only pale grass and, in the nicer districts, grey-hued roses and black sunflowers.

They piloted their own versions of cruisers, commanded automatons to perform the most labor-intensive tasks, and they were protected by a series of barriers which were installed in combination with a missile defense system.

Amaresula's military was once its only priority, and, following the exploding growth of its population, it could threaten rival civilizations with its sheer numbers.

Amaresula came to be overpopulated. It was known for housing eight hundred million residents, residents who were granted much leisure time, luxurious bath houses, arcade pubs, and virtual reality theatres as well as access to virtual reality networks from their own homes.

Amaresula was the perfect city, and it was also where I met Him for the first time.

Kerim Zunaga, the Hero of Amaresula.

\---

When the man I had been searching for was right before my eyes, I commanded the pilot of the vessel escorting me to land at the bottom of a decline to a small hill which faced the breadth of Amaresula. It was centered just above it, miles away from its magnitude and high enough to feel a breeze which touched each green pasture and whistled before the sunset.

I commanded the soldier in my company to give me his sword, and he offered up his wakizashi, which I believed I would not need but followed my better instincts. I fastened a belt around my robe, sheathed the wakizashi at my side, and climbed the slope toward the narrow plateau.

At first, I could view only his back, and that alone was colossal enough to obscure one's full view of Amaresula.

Three thick, black braids hung down to his waist, and two silver cuffs glinted against the figure of the Sun dropping past the horizon. He wore only a black tank top and tattered, grey jeans over dark combat boots; his forearms had been tattooed with symbols only recognizable from Sidogushan geometry.

The Hero of Amaresula was a tall and unusually muscular man; perhaps it is more appropriate to refer to him as an ape, for he resembled a giant and carried inside of him the strength of a god.

Ten years ago, Zunaga's broad build was used in advertisements around Amaresula. He was meant to be recognized as a savior, a human with special abilities who could protect their city without any assistance.

I had come to Amaresula with one purpose in mind:

I would recruit him.

I'm afraid that by the time I'd reached that city, however, the "hero" I had heard so much about had let evil claim his mind. He had strayed from the Way.

I arrived to speak with Zunaga, but he was already reaching one of his hands out in the direction of Amaresula.

Zunaga sensed my presence, and he acknowledged me while refusing to tear his gaze away from the city.

"Have you come to watch?" he asked me.

Just as I had come to know of him, so, too, had Zunaga learned of who I was.

Zunaga continued, "President Derek of the Dawn Federation...

"You should get out of here."

I closed my left hand around the hilt of the wakizashi.

"Why are you here?"

Zunaga's outstretched arm bulged.

It expanded, inflating to press out throbbing veins, and, with a twitching movement, he rotated his hand around and positioned his palm toward the sky. His body radiated a dark red light; the feeling of deep loathing and rage was impressed upon me, and I was humbled by such a lust for vengeance. Any rationality left in Amaresula's hero was altogether vanquished by fury, and it was this fury that strengthened him as he doubled his concentration on the city.

The world abruptly dimmed, producing a terrible ambience as extreme, god-like power congregated at the base of Zunaga's spirit. He trembled; his body expanded, too, and swelled to an even more impressive size. Trails of red smoke became tracers which followed every subtle movement, and Zunaga grunted when he said, "Amaresula was never a utopia."

He brought his other hand around and out before him: with a small margin of effort, Zunaga elevated both hands and cracked the earth surrounding Amaresula's foundations.

He gritted his teeth, and his body trembled as he struggled to continue moving his hands upward. The more he struggled, the stronger the resulting earthquake once an indentation was made around the city. Amaresula twitched and contorted in response to a powerful force that I had never conceived could exist in my lifetime.

I heard the echoes of panicked citizens. The just population of Amaresula now contemplated their insignificance as the ground below them levitated toward the sky.

Amaresula rose to the heavens.

It was a divine city on a hill, the center of humanity's renaissance, and fragments of it broke off as it ascended. Pieces of Amaresula, carrying with them entire districts, living quarters, cracked and separated from the main branch, and everything they had once possessed was dashed upon the earth without commotion or resistance.

I raced toward Zunaga, and I prepared to draw my sword with enough strength to sever his midsection.

I did not attempt to Foresee the possible outcomes of this battle, but I understood then that the Way had tasked me to stop him. I lunged, maintaining some distance, and thrusted perfectly at Zunaga's side!

At that same moment, Zunaga pivoted his torso, straightened his right hand, and swung it down and through the wakizashi—

A sharp click resounded, and my blade was broken in two; the ground below Zunaga's arm opened up and retracted to form a deep cut within the earth. The other piece of steel flew through the air, and debris composed of soil and minerals soared and splattered against my leggings.

Zunaga kept reaching out at Amaresula with his left hand, and it became a veined, quivering muscle when he continued to send the city higher. His face became flushed, and he looked back at me, flashing a malicious smile.

"N-no one..." he uttered while under incredible strain, "believed in me."

I backed away and lowered my shattered blade while trying to use Foresight—

But his zol canceled out my own.

I could not Foresee what he would do, but I knew that Zunaga commanded celestial energy and that he could destroy me, that I could do nothing to save Amaresula.

Amaresula was humanity's greatest city, and it was destroyed by its own hero.

Zunaga grunted and reflexively let his left arm drop. He lurched forward, gripping his left limb, and looked ahead with grim expectations.

"Hero Zunaga! Don't—"

He was fast.

In an instant, Zunaga appeared only a few inches away—he stared down at me with a solemn expression.

Zunaga smiled; at the same time, Amaresula broke against the world and smashed through miles of earth while collapsing into chunks. Pieces of a former glorious civilization exploded into vicious oblivion. Millions of lives were terminated upon contact...

Zunaga looked into my eyes, and his expression never softened. There remained nothing that echoed any semblance to the hero I believed I would find here.

"My journey is over." he said.

I couldn't respond, and I couldn't hold my weapon still. Zunaga closed in and pressed his stomach against the broken end of the sword. His eyes searched me over for some sort of answer.

"Kill or imprison me, President Derek."

"You... can't be serious."

Zunaga grabbed the blade and held it firmly in his left hand. I cannot comprehend why he smiled the way he did.

"See to it that my accommodations suit me; other than that, and for the time being, my life is all yours."

\---

Janelle

\---

Ten years ago, Kerim Zunaga was convicted of committing mass genocide. He wiped out the people of Amaresula, and he was paraded in front of the Citadel as a wild beast destined to be sealed away at the bottom of the Prison forever.

Most modern societies had caught word of Zunaga's actions, and he became a universal villain despised by all but a select few. Despite the attention drawn to him, Zunaga slowly faded away after being sentenced to a new cell that was made for him specifically.

The very bottom of the Citadel Prison was composed entirely of netite, with moa alloy lining its perimeter. It was constructed in support of the room that housed Zunaga, which was an interior that glowed with a pallid and stark white; every wall was accompanied by web-like streaks that formed octagons in patterns throughout the cell. The cell itself was cut off from the rest of the prison via a vault door only triggerable by the Prison's Master Computer.

When Zunaga had been imprisoned initially, he requested that he be given some recreational weight appropriate to his level.

A small sphere of moa was formed from incinerating the mineral for three days into a circular shape, and that moa was compressed under one hundred layers of netite, culminating in enough weight that, if not for the reinforcement of the cell, this sphere would plunge through the prison and pass through the Earth until it came close to meeting a god or its center.

Kerim Zunaga was in the middle of the room, legs crossed and one hand levitating the sphere while the other was drawn toward the ground and tensed.

Derek started to speak, but he looked to his weapon and then back at Zunaga as he fought to control a tremor. Derek paled.

"What is it?" Zunaga said, exhaling with some effort.

Zunaga had been lifting this sphere for the entirety of his incarceration.

"The Prison has stopped swaying," Derek replied humbly.

"That's correct." Zunaga's tone was gruff, and he kept his back to Derek while seeming fixated on a singular idea.

He released control of the sphere—

It collided with the ground, causing a small implosion of crushed moa that rang throughout the entire prison.

"President of the Dawn Federation..."

Zunaga stood and kept his remaining arm tightened as he turned to study Derek, "I've confined myself here for longer than I could know.

"I've received enlightenment," he gazed at the ground before the President's feet, "but I've come to a decision."

Zunaga's arm relaxed, shrinking somewhat, and he uttered a sigh of relief; with that, the prison shook, lurching heavily forward as gusts of wind beat against its walls.

As soon as Zunaga had released his control, Derek was thrown from his feet and slid backward while the immense pressure from the tower flying through the atmosphere forced him to stay in place.

The Hero Zunaga stood over the President of the Federation. He was full of pride, resting his shoulders back and focusing his gaze on the exit to his cell.

"My stay here is over," he proclaimed. "I have a new purpose."
\----

PART FOUR

Raiko

\----
1

The Third Level - I

\----

Raiko

\----

THE WORLD THREW ME OUT, YO. I've always been playing it the way I do, but I never thought it'd be me who'd get got—not this soon, at least.

The police said it'd be a death sentence. Judge said that Third Level meant life, like it's got a high mortality rate and everything. Shit, and now some old bastard says I can get out, kill folks for a livin', and all I gotta do is agree to some 'Dar-Tech' nonsense.

All that's just talk, though. Folks sayin' stuff n' phrases that don't hold true, and they all know I meant to do everything I did to get in here.

L looked in a tight spot at the time. I was backin' him up, like he'd backed me up, like the Kijivu Tribe backed each other up. I was soldierin' for them, you know, but they got ripped by a stupid-ass snitch. I gave that snitch what he deserved.

Maybe I deserved the same thing, though. Government locked me in this cramped pod, yo; I gotta stand up straight to fit in this metal tube that's barely my own fuckin' height—shit looks like a big cylinder on the outside, but we're all put in these things at night. I never thought I'd sleep standin', but the tech they got puts me out. I don't get to have my own dreams, and... I-I hate it.

In the night, everything lights up on the inside of these sleep machines. There's this screen that comes on. It's bright, like a movie that plays the same trash until we wake up. They show us some middle-aged lady, and it looks like Avva, that lady who everybody says died for this country.

Avva, the God Lady, she's on screen and repeating the same message. She tells us to "detach," "regain positive control and influence."

Avva's God here; I hear the other prisoners say her name in their prayers.

They think she's gonna save them. I think that's funny because no one can save us.

Old man told me I'd be in here for a week before D-Tech came. It's just words, like everything else they say.

\----

I get woke the same way as the others, but, if I don't answer right, I'll get got.

The sleep machine screams an ugly alarm that's meant to be some sorta melody. Other fellas call them 'Death Clocks,' and that's what happens before I see Avva's face on the screen. Her hair's parted into two sides; one side's straight and white, and the other's really curly and kinda brown. She's got freckles on both cheeks, wrinkles above her chin and across her forehead, and she's tall.

Avva asks us these questions, and we've gotta answer right or she'll kill us. Her smile seems so real, but she's got no mercy. Avva's a motherfuckin' demon, and we all keep doin' what she says, with no guarantee that we'll survive for long. The questions are always different. They always hurt.

She wants to know everything about me and if I'm someone needin' to get put down, if I'm evil.

"Good morning, Inmate 50Z-7MU, and welcome to another of your regular sessions with the Wellness Portal! The Wellness Portal allows facility personnel to monitor your rehabilitation and intervene with improvements when necessary.

"Thank you for letting me be your guide today, Inmate 50Z-7MU. First, I would like to start with a series of questions. Are you ready?"

Even answering this stupid question right is crucial.

"Yes."

"Excellent." Avva says and waits a moment before she starts in:

"How are you feeling this morning, 50Z-7MU?"

She smirks.

"Don't worry. You can be honest."

No. I can't.

"I'm good."

"What does 'good' mean to you?"

I shrug. "I got no complaints."

"Wonderful," she exclaims, "and do you think your family is 'good,' too?"

"W-what?"

She moves her face closer. It's all... creepy, like, she's smilin' but also looks like she's tryin' me now.

"Describe your family, Inmate 50Z-7MU."

Avva's askin' about moms, 'bout all that shit I don't want to think on...

\----

Pops was simple. Pops was a banger; he served, robbed, and left me and moms sometimes. We lived in gov'ment housing, down where the Zones meet the Lower-City. Pops had us holed up in an aluminum shed, and we knew he had the money, he just wasn't tryin' to be flashy with it. But pops was good... yeah, up until somebody came in and blasted his brains across my moms.

Moms was a fiend, and pops had it on with a lotta folks. These two things, and the fact that they had no way of defense, fucked them over. Dad pissed off this man; after this man killed him, he beat me down.

That stranger hurt moms. He raped her in front of me, and I couldn't carry it. I kept trying to kill him but couldn't land shit, and I let my pops down. I could never find the stranger after that day, and my moms ended up dropping me off close to the Zone police.

When they got a hold of me, I was put into their System. I was given a last name and a number, sorta like here.

They put me on some magic list I never saw, and I stayed with others like myself in a steel shelter that was cold as hell for a few weeks. I didn't try to get close to nobody—for real, I just wanted my payback, you know?

I wanted some fool my size to try me so I could get back at the true enemy; if I didn't man up, then the man who killed my pops won.

Some time went by, and they put me on a bus cruiser that shipped me all the way to the West, to Zone D. I stayed at some foster care center—but not for long. The caretaker was a fiend, like my moms, but the social workers weren't checkin' the way they was supposed to, and so Mrs. Cullis was usin' the money she got paid to keep her habit. Mrs. Cullis was the only one who didn't stress or suffer in that house.

I saw how it was, and so I left...

That's the only family I've ever known or care to speak on.

\----

"My folks both loved me," I tell her.

"Please provide me with more details about your sociocultural heritage."

Avva's grin is uglier now. She's got these faded blue eyes that look some kinda wicked, and I'm shook. I'm thinkin' she wants to off me, that nothin' I say now is gonna make a difference.

"My dad was a salesman, and my mom worked with pharmaceuticals, ma'am. They didn't make a whole lot, so I was poor. I had to fight for what I had, but I think—I-I know they loved me."

"If you were 'poor,' as you say, then do you think they really loved you, inmate?"

"That..." I'm vexed. "You don't understand, ma'am. My folks did everything they could for me!"

"Are you stating that your family tried but was incompetent?"

"I'm not!"

"Indeed." Her expression got blank. "Therefore, you loved them, too."

I don't know if I did.

"Yes."

Avva nods her head at me.

"Inmate 50Z-7MU is capable of love. Inmate, do you know what CODE 230-Vi.i is?"

"I don't, ma'am."

"This standard is in place to notify prison personnel when it is time to retire an inmate. In the Citadel, citizens can be assured peace of mind and take strength in knowing that those who pollute the Federation must inevitably return to it.

"CODE 230-Vi.i is this..."

Avva waves her hand through the air and makes this round hologram with the inscription, "230-Vi.i." She floats toward me and takes off my grey hood; in its place, I feel weight press down on the top of my head; she's marked me.

"Rest assured, Inmate, for those who do no wrong cannot be accused or expected of such. For your time in the Third Level, your past will be erased, your transgressions cleansed in the purity that is the Federation's Justice. Inmate 50Z-7MU, are you guilty?"

I don't know the right answer again. We do something "incorrect," and Code 230-Vi.i lights up on our heads. After that, it's over. Once they see that fuckin' sign, there ain't nothin' gonna save you.

"I am."

I gotta own it.

Avva smiles, and then...

She sheds a tear. A real tear. And then, she splits up into these small squares with bright tracings running through them. Those break into smaller pieces, and I can't see as the inside of my tube-home goes black.

"That's right." a new, male voice booms so that everybody can hear.

"You are all guilty. Level Three welcomes you again, my children, and you will not leave until every wrong has been righted."

My cage opens.

Four panels part diagonally, and light pours in from behind a fella who's wearin' nice, polished armor. It's a deep grey with square shoulder plates and bands of metal wrapped 'round the torso. The head looks kinda misshapen, like, narrow and longer at the top, but it's covered in a round helmet with a column of spikes that start at the forehead and flow down to the effect of makin' it half a sun.

The front of the headgear's got this small, horizontal visor that glows with a light that hurts to look at. I realize that it's not a person in that suit...

It's another cyber soldier. A sentinel.

The light forms a straight line, but it quivers when the thing talks: "INMATE 50Z-7MU, WELCOME TO THE THIRD LEVEL."

Its voice is made of beeps and clicks, like a monotone recording, and the sentinel points the barrel of a white, automatic rifle at my face.

"PLEASE PROCEED ALONG THE GREEN COURSE. REMEMBER TO STAY WITHIN ITS BOUNDARIES AT ALL TIMES."

Body's stiff as a bitch when I try to shake free from a ton of wires trapping me. I gotta jerk loose needles that shoot into your body when they put you in for the night, and every muscle I've got left, after being still for so long, has got this ache. My spine feels like it's going to bend in half once I take a step out and nearly fall on the armed robot.

It follows me with its gun while I try to get my balance together and adjust to what feels like thick cardboard at my feet.

The Green Course is a bright jade road that runs through the whole Third Level. It starts at the elevator that comes down from the Second Level, and it works a trail past a whole buncha fluid tanks and labs. Past that, they got an office with a huge terminal that's connected to thick tubes with these fluorescent, orange lights and that hang suspended above each of our little cages. I reckon that there's more than a thousand of them, all these small cells organized in lines and at all sorts of heights—stuck in places nobody would think of, too.

All of us are connected by the same Green Course that sways alone over nothing. Below my cell, there's just this fog, and that leaves only the Course, which separates and rejoins right before the chow hall.

While I'm stepping ahead of the bot, I see that my environment's sheltered by metal walls with small, black trenches that shine with gradients of gold; it's like we're living inside a computer, and the only ones who aren't prisoners are government robots who wanna punish us.

The bot behind me pushes me onto a wider part of the road, and I've gotta get in line with others like me—or, sort of like me, I guess.

The Third Level's so bad that the Federation doesn't populate it with real prison guards. We're right above the people they call the "freaks" on the Fourth Level. Down there, they got motherfuckas who ain't human. When I check in front and behind, I can't tell if some of the people with me really deserved what they got, you know?

Guy behind me's got a scruffy, red beard and long, thin hair that's parted at the middle but receding. His nose seems like it's been broken and is kinda wide, stubby. He won't look at anybody; he's another tall, lanky fella who stares ahead, like he's imagining he's somewhere else.

The dude in front of me looks down and avoids making any trouble while he's nervously shufflin' ahead. The line's moving fast, and, every fifty feet or so, I pass another sentinel. There's a giant black screen to the west, and it's over the expanse filled with cells and deviations of the Green Course.

That's where the Third Level Warden makes his announcements. His morning speech should come on soon, but we're never sure what that could mean for us.

All of us wear the same crimson braces linked by a small chain. On each chain, there's these metal faces that look like smilin' devils; other fellas in here say that there's some magic to 'em, that fiddling with them is another sure way to get got.

Someone taps me on the shoulder.

I assume it's the guy behind me, but I'm too anxious to turn and say anything. If I look back, that could activate the Code, and, if I speak too many words, the bots will put a muzzle over my mouth.

We're not supposed to get too much interaction with each other... words are precious and in short supply, so I can't waste them all right now.

"Kid!"

All of us turn, and the man who prodded me quickly hides himself behind the next fella when two sentinels on opposite sides take notice.

"WHILE TRAVERSING THE GREEN COURSE, INMATES MAY NOT SPEAK. DISOBEYING THIS EDICT IS AN OFFICIAL CRIME AGAINST THE FEDERATION AND WILL BE MET WITH THE MAXIMUM PENALTY."

A few people ahead of me, there's this old man who's not trying to face the right way.

He's turned to the side and starts to stare at the sentinel that just spoke. He scratches his chin, then he starts to ask something before he realizes that he doesn't know what to say. He's a demented geezer, somebody who shouldn't be down here—my bad, somebody who can't be down here.

He holds up the line, and the government bot immediately pivots to shriek at us:

"PROCEED, INMATES!"

"W-we can't!" a bald, middle-aged dude behind the geezer panics and eventually pushes him out of the way.

The line still refuses to move, so the sentinel strides toward the disturbance. At the same time, the geezer wanders from the green boundary and walks toward the bot.

"E-excuse me..." he starts to groan.

"Hey!" The closest prisoner grabs his arm and pulls him back toward the procession. "C'mon now! You know not to disobey them!"

The sentinel stops a foot before the elder, raises his gun, and shoots him in the head with a hollow-point bullet.

Old man's brains splatter out his skull, and he collapses in his own pool. Bone fragments get blasted from the side of his head, and blood sprays on the fella who tried to help him.

The prison bot moves toward him next.

The guy raises his hands in surrender, but the bot puts a round through his forehead. Those around him step back, on reflex, and gasp. When another prisoner accidentally steps out of the Green Course to flee, a second bot approaches and swings—

—A steel, segmented blade glows red and shines real brilliant—

The second bot severs the prisoner's neck muscles. It cuts his head off in one move, and its sword keeps burning with intense heat.

"MOVE ALONG!" the sentinel with the blade screeches at us.

And we all feel it: fear. Not knowing what mistake will cost you everything.

We start to move forward, then the same sentinel grabs a woman next to me. Her face's sweaty; she reminds me of my moms a little. She's got greying, dark hair and hard wrinkles at the corners of her mouth.

This lady hunches over, shaking.

The sentinel grips her elbow tight enough to almost crush it, enough for her to wince.

"INMATE 37Z-7MU, PLEASE STAND BY TO PROVIDE INPUT."

"W-what?"

She shields her eyes from the light that's coming from its visor, and the bot stays in place, studyin' her.

"INMATE 37Z-7MU, IS VIOLENCE JUSTIFIABLE IN SOME CASES?"

Her breathing gets faster.

"I—" she stutters, "I don't know. Please don't hurt me."

"IS NONVIOLENCE A CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE?"

"Please!" she screams.

Its sword gives off a spark.

"YOUR RESPONSES ARE IMPORTANT, INMATE 37Z-7MU. PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:

"ARE ALL PEOPLE WHO KILL EVIL?"

"N-no!" she shrieks.

Silence.

The sentinel's still staring at her, and she's all red now. We're starting to move in a line again, but she's glancing back desperately, like she's gonna be abandoned.

The lady freaks out, shouts, "I mean, 'yes!'"

I watch the sentinel raise its sword. It stabs her in the stomach.

The sounds she makes are horrible; that bot's put a flaming piece of steel inside her, and it's cookin' the lady from the inside. She tries to pry herself from its grip, but it grabs her throat, choking her cries. I see tears fall. Lady squeals while that sword is moved up and sears apart her chest. The smell of burnt flesh accompanies those of us who've survived so far.

This shit is real. There are no right answers.

Here come the flying bots. They're smaller than the sentinels. They got hooks and nets; both those are attached to wide, metal arms, and the drones are all either in black or white. They come in from above and below and take out the "retired" inmates.

Cold claws close around every corpse, yo... they still usin' dead people across the prison. Even in death, we can't get no sleep.

The line of us stops at this surreal archway. It looks like a grey material that's been melted and folded, but it's sculpted, man. It's too... shaped, like an image you'd see on a screen, and it lights up while blarin' every time. This sound is how we get our daily admission into the rest of the routine.

If we get past this thing, we can make it to the Rations House, and I'm damn hungry—especially seein' how they got us on one meal a day. Tch, the meal ain't even what it's s'posed to be, but it's all we got.

I've only heard the archway make a different sound a few times; it was from farther ways back, though, and everybody else was shook when they heard it. I don't know what it does or what it means when you can't get admitted past this point, but I'm looking at the starved backside of the fella in front of me and wonderin' how far he'll go.

He's young in the face, but his hair's all white and shit. He's got moles and spots all over, and he smells bad. Man starts whimperin' when it's his turn to step through the gate. There are two sentinels standing watch on the other side.

They holdin' more of them swords out at the ready, and the Green Course behind them stops at this fork, with one path goin' to a little dome that's high up and part of a larger way that's gotta lead to the Second Level.

"PROCEED BEYOND THE FIRST SECURITY CHECKPOINT, INMATE." one of the sentinels blares at him while sounding more aggressive than the others.

Guy in front of me steps nervously. He's not in a hurry to make it to the arch, and, when he does, he stops short.

"PROCEED."

The sentinel raises its blade and moves in closer.

Man's all sweaty; he keeps himself from sayin' anything else, then he positions himself dead center in the middle of the security checkpoint.

"Raiko!" someone behind me whispers.

I glance back to check out who it is:

Guy has a dark beard that takes up most of his face, and his hair is long, messy. He's got these dark brown eyes, real earnest-looking, and he's a big dude. I don't recognize him, but I know his ass should definitely not be recognizin' me. Nobody knows the name "Raiko," 'cept for those I was bangin' with, of course.

L was talkin' in court 'fore I left. He said I might have a friend in here.

I forget the sentinels and turn, but somethin' else keeps me from sayin' anything back. The guy in front of me's freakin' out, and I look to see what it is that's got him buggin'.

The number over his head lights up—lights up in gold, I swear. The same type of number over me.

The checkpoint makes this high-pitched screech, and the sentinel facing us on the left approaches, keeping his weapon out to the side with one arm and bringing up his other, across his face.

The armor 'round it parts at the top; it lets this square elevate up, and it shines blue. The square breaks into smaller bits that come together again and make a new shape—

Fella gasps when he sees it turn into a hologram of himself coated in red, yellow, black, and blue. Sentinel's inspectin' these numbers that are too far for me to see, and the bot straightens before it says to him:

"INMATE 45Z-9MU, YOU HAVE BEEN RANDOMLY SELECTED FOR EVALUATION.

"REST ASSURED THAT ALL QUESTIONS TO YOU HAVE BEEN USED BEFORE IN DATA COLLECTION, THAT YOUR CONTRIBUTION WILL ALWAYS BE NEEDED, AND THAT YOU MUST ANSWER EVERY QUESTION PRESENTED TO YOU TRUTHFULLY. LYING IS A VIOLATION THAT CAN AND WILL BE MET WITH CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"I—I do!" Fella nods his head vigorously. Looks like he's fiendin' hard, probably some addict they got from the Quadrants.

"INMATE 45Z-9MU, WHY DO YOU THINK YOUR NUMBER WOULD BE SELECTED?"

"It's..." He shakes and is trying way too hard to think. "It was... random, wasn't it? Right." He smiles. "Random selection!"

The sentinel nods. "CORRECT. BUT DO YOU BELIEVE THAT IT IS RIGHT THAT YOU WOULD BE SELECTED?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so."

"INMATE 45Z-9MU, IS IT EVER JUSTIFIABLE TO COMMIT MURDER?"

"What?"

He's gettin' too nervous. Breathing's quick.

"Murder?"

"ANSWER TRUTHFULLY. IS IT JUSTIFIABLE TO TERMINATE LIFE OF ANY KIND?"

"Even for survival?"

"THAT IS AN ANSWER."

"Wait–wait! What?"

The sentinel comes to stand face-to-face with him.

"HOW ARE YOU FEELING, INMATE 45Z-9MU?"

"I'm—I'm okay."

"DO YOU THINK YOU WERE CHOSEN BECAUSE YOU HAVE A TENDENCY TO LIE?"

"I'm not lying!"

He's losing his cool.

"INMATE, IS PERSISTENCE IN LYING JUSTIFIABLE FOR ANY REASON?"

The prisoner's hologram turns red. At the bottom, at his feet, I'm seein' some black rise up.

"WHICH IS MORE DEVIANT, THE ACT OF LYING OR THE ACT OF MURDER?"

"Uh... —murder!"

Black textiles cover half of his hologram now.

"WHAT IS YOUR OFFICIAL CHARGE, INMATE 45Z-9MU?"

"It's a lie."

He falls on his knees, tears at his hair.

"I didn't do it—I DIDN'T DO IT!" he screams.

"WHAT IS YOUR OFFICIAL CHARGE?"

He's cryin' and snifflin' now. He looks up at the sentinel, like he's begging him to stop. "I didn't do it," he says, "I swear I'm not guilty."

His whole hologram goes black. I feel the guy who knows my name put his hand on my shoulder, like he's seen something I haven't.

"You don't wanna look at this, boy."

His word limit is probably up.

"OFFICIAL CHARGES: AGGRAVATED ROBBERY, ASSAULT AND BATTERY, POSSESSION.

"INMATE 45Z-9MU, YOUR WELLBEING HAS BEEN COMPROMISED."

The sentinel lets its sword hang down while it uses one finger to type on some sorta pad that's below the image of the prisoner.

"I SENTENCE YOU TO CAPITAL CORRECTION VIA HARMONY."

"NO!" the prisoner shrieks before he grabs the bot. "Wait! I PROMISE I'm not guilty like they say—please listen to me!"

"ACTIVATING HARMONY."

An electrical, black shock circles the inmate.

He's jolted back, totally straightening out, then the fella tumbles over and starts digging into his eyes with his hands.

His scream echoes throughout the entire Third Level, and his number begins to burn away in a light too bright for me to look at. I'm seein' red come out his eyes and nose, and he's able to move in little bursts that are followed by him freezing up by more than one shock. Veins start poppin' out from his forehead. Red leaks from his ears.

I see the guy's eyes roll to the back of his head, and his face twitches in all directions. Guy's hands drop to his sides; he stays on his knees and fights to hold himself up, but his head keeps spasming.

Soon, his eyes look like black holes.

When he opens his mouth again, dark smoke follows a foul odor. Pink shit drains from his ears, with thick chunks flowin' down through liquid streams. The guy's lips fold in around his teeth, then he makes this crinkled, creep-like smile on his face. His upper body plummets, and he hits the ground, smoke comin' out from him.

A flying bot comes from the top to retrieve him, and then it's my turn:

The killer sentinel's looking at me. It's got no face and doesn't show any emotions with its eyes. I'm just waiting for my execution for all I know.

"PROCEED THROUGH THE FIRST SECURITY CHECKPOINT, INMATE." it orders, and the whole process starts over again, like it's already forgotten that someone died in the same spot.

"It's okay." I hear the stranger at my back. He urges me to move forward by pushing on me, and I hurry to place myself below the archway...

My number lights up. The checkpoint makes that noise again. I'm about to get got.

The sentinel approaches and brings up a hologram of me, 'cept this one is all black to start with.

"INMATE 50Z-7MU, CODE 230-Vi.i INDICATES DEVIANCE FROM CORRECTION. AT THIS TIME, YOUR MENTAL HEALTH SIGNATURES ARE NOT COMPATIBLE WITH THE GREATER SYSTEM. YOU WILL NOT BE QUESTIONED. YOU WILL NOT BE GUIDED TOWARD CORRECTION." the sentinel says firmly and readies its two fingers over the digital pad. "YOU WILL BE TERMINATED FOR YOUR FAILURE TO ADJUST."

I'm shook.

I can't comprehend what it's just told me. It feels like I did something wrong I could've prevented, but it's all goin' so fast—shit.

Everything's already over. I swear, it's all gotta be a joke, man—this life, it's a fuckin' tease, yo! You spend all of it just tryna get by, just tryna get some motherfuckin' food, hold down a living, but it's for nothing. In the end, some fool in government clothes takes away what little you got, then he says you gotta abide by rules you can't abide by, then you end up a body.

The sentinel inputs the death sequence again.

There's this simple click in response, not like the sound from before. I don't think much of it, but the sentinel gets kinda vexed and starts inputtin' some other shit. It's like it keeps trying to pull the trigger, but the trigger doesn't move. All I hear is "click, click, click," and I slowly realize that that's the sound of God telling me I might get to live. All it takes is a few buttons to melt my brain, and its hands keep fucking it up.

Somebody new shows up in armor like the sentinels' and a helmet hiding their face. They walk to stand next to the bot and check my hologram. I'm quiet, expecting to get a question I can't answer before they shock me, but the two of them are real focused.

The new guard sighs, then he strides over to me while his headgear shifts and unfolds:

I see the face of a dude with a military cut and skin that sags deep at his cheekbones. He's got some awkward stubble goin' on, but his eyes are hard and seem kinda alien when I peep that his nose is small at the bridge but gigantic at the bottom and spreads far. This fella's ugly, and his breath be stank, like alcohol, when he starts gruntin' at me:

"You are Inmate 50Z-7MU? That is your designated name, correct?"

"Uh, yeah."

"'Yeah?' Do I look like a friend to you?"

He gets in closer, tightening his grip on his rifle. "You think I'm here because I want to fucking help you?"

"No—uh, no, Sir!" I try to calm his angry ass down, but I already know how these things go.

He spits at my feet, then he pushes me back with his weapon. "What are you in here for, dumbass?"

"I killed somebody."

He stares at me for a long time and then starts looking down at the digital pad attached to his arm.

"Weird." he says.

He turns to the sentinel next to him and asks, "What is the current designation for Inmate 50Z-7MU?"

The sentinel stutters for a second, freezes up, then it makes its response: "INMATE 50Z-7MU HAS BEEN GIVEN SPECIAL DESIGNATION FOR PROCLAMATION FIVE, SIR."

"If that's true, then he shouldn't be with this group."

"INCORRECT. 50Z-7MU IS TO REMAIN WITH GROUP SERAPH."

"But how?" He's lookin' real vexed now. "Group Seraph is all set for the Big Event today..." He scratches at his throat. "This is probably a mistake."

It gets quiet. His eyes are looking elsewhere, but I wanna know what the 'Big Event' is.

"Inmate," he asks, "was it really murder?"

"Uh..." I'm not sure what to say, but I tell him, "I attacked two dudes, yeah. One's dead."

He makes eye contact with me, and his face goes blank.

I'm scared.

If he can't kill me using the Code, I know he can still get the job done. This man's so hideous, yo, and his eyes are just this dirty brown, like shit. He's starin' at me like I'm just a body, and I try to keep lookin' back, to keep my ground against him.

I see as he moves one hand forward—

He bashes me 'cross the cheek with the barrel of his gun. I fall on my ass before I even realize it, and I feel this burnin' pressure on my gums. My cheek's startin' to swell. My mouth fills with blood. The nausea nearly gets too heavy to deal with, and the guard grabs my shoulder.

He leans down, whispering in my ear:

"Good luck, kid."

I can't see the asshole smile, but I know he's grinning.

"You came so close to surviving."

He shoves me toward a large group that's been shepherded before a slab of a door, one that's distinct only because of small trails of blue light that run from the top and bottom and meet in the middle. They come together in an oval that's my size, and I think that that's gotta be the key to passin' through.

The guard who hit me shakes his head, raises his gun, and walks away.

At the same time, the stranger from behind swallows while another sentinel steps between him and the next group. He's the last guy who's gonna be joining us for the "Big Event." I wonder what he did and why he knows my name, but I'm not sure if lookin' too long will get me killed.

"PROCEED, INMATE."

He shakes his arms to loosen them and breathes in while keeping his gaze fixed to the ground. I didn't expect him to be all nerves like this, but he looks way paler than before, and he slowly steps through:

Code 230-Vi.i lights up.

He flinches out of pure fear, then the fella puffs out his chest; he tries to look strong.

The sentinel carrying a blade pulls up his hologram and begins:

"INMATE 50Z-20MU, CODE 230-Vi.i INDICATES THAT THERE IS DEVIANCE WHICH STANDS TO BE CORRECTED.

"INMATE 50Z-20MU, HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING?"

Guy pauses, then he shrugs and plays it off, "I'm good."

"IS THIS A TRUTHFUL RESPONSE?"

"Yeah." He nods slow; his eyes are wide while he stares at the cold robot.

His hologram's all black, like mine was.

"INMATE 50Z-20MU, WHY DO YOU THINK YOUR HOLOGRAPHIC REFLECTION REVEALS DEVIANCE?

"YOUR SPOKEN WORD LIMIT WILL BE INCREASED FROM ONE HUNDRED TO ONE THOUSAND IN ORDER FOR YOU TO PROVIDE A COMPLETE RESPONSE TO THIS QUESTION."

"Hmm..." He folds his right arm 'cross his chest and rests his other atop it while scratching his beard.

It's all quiet again, and the sentinel's ready. I see it gearin' up to strike, and this dude's got no prayer in this.

He's fucked.

"Well, shit—I s'pose it just be that time of the month, you know? Feelin', uh, moody..."

The sentinel doesn't say anything back, and I gotta process what I just heard.

Somewhere behind the checkpoint, somebody laughs. When this happens, other prisoners do the same thing, and their laughing gets contagious.

The hologram turns bright blue, and the sentinel looks down.

"So," the guy smirks, crosses his arms, and asks, "am I good, fam?"

"INMATE 50Z-20MU, YOUR MENTAL STATUS HAS RETURNED TO NORMAL. AT THIS TIME, YOU ARE NOT IN NEED OF IMMEDIATE CORRECTION.

"DESPITE THIS RECENT IMPROVEMENT, YOUR ESTIMATED SURVIVAL RATE TODAY REMAINS AT 0.08 PERCENT."

The sentinel steps aside.

"PROCEED, INMATE, AND REMEMBER: AVVA IS THE SHEPHERD. SEEK HER GUIDANCE IN YOUR TIME OF NEED. THAT IS ALL."

Inmate 50Z-20MU rushes over to me all happy and shit. He's just escaped with his life, but he's too friendly for me, especially in this place. I back away when he approaches, but the dude holds out his hand in some lame gesture of friendship.

"I know you," he says, "i-is your name 'Raiko? You responded to it, so it must be."

I nod to him. I'm not about to use up my own word limit on some grown fool.

"Ay," fools still steps closer to look down at me.

"Listen, punk. We gotta talk when they send us to chow, all right?"

I don't acknowledge it.

"Boy! I'm talk—"

He's ready to slap me before we're interrupted by the entrance to the next area lighting up brighter than before.

The gate shines and fades out as another chamber fades into sight:

We see a steel bridge spannin' this big chasm, and, at the bottom of the chasm, there's some fiery liquid flowin' in a river and drainin' away in tubes strong enough to hold it. They're mixin' that moa shit at the bottom; I hear that it's gotta be set in crazy heat for hours before it melts down.

The bridge stops at this metal pillar that comes up from the ground, and this pillar splits our path into a bunch of others that reach across the whole Third Level.

The Third Level Warden is far above us and stands over the face of a rocky cliff. On the opposite side of him, there's a giant screen that flickers on when we start to cross the first bridge. This screen shows him more clearly than what we can see of the little shadow standing over everything, and the chump's got a fucking mask, yo!

One side's all bent up, smiley, and its eyes aren't there. There are just these closed slits that mock you. The other half is crying, shaped sad, and even that side of his body is slumped to match. Both of his hands come down at his waist as he slouches over, and he's shackled them together. The Warden's got this jester's hat and a grey and purple jumpsuit; he's a creepy fuck, and he uses this screen to speak to each group as they pass through.

"GROUP SERAPH," his voice booms across the chamber.

It's croaky, but his words are clear:

"I AM DELIGHTED TO ANNOUNCE YOUR INDUCTION INTO THE THIRD LEVEL PROPER! GROUP SERAPH HAS BEEN SELECTED TO UNDERGO THE BIG EVENT: THE PRIDE AND JOY OF THE THIRD LEVEL.

"BEFORE YOU ALL BEGIN THE BIG EVENT, YOU WILL ENJOY THE BEST FOOD THIS PRISON HAS TO OFFER."

The Warden pauses to inhale for a long time, then he says, "THE WAY OF AVVA ADDED NEW VERSES TO THE TOME OF SIDOGUSH, MY CHILDREN. TAKE COMFORT IN HER WORDS, FOR SHE TELLS US TO 'ACT JUSTLY, EXUDE VIRTUE, AND EXCEL IN HARDSHIP.'

"IF YOU ARE DEEMED WORTHY DURING THE BIG EVENT, TRUST THAT THE REST OF YOUR EXPERIENCE WHILE WITHIN THE PRISON WILL BE QUITE DIFFERENT."

The screen goes black, and what he's just said really shakes somebody up front. Some dude with wispy hair and a gangly body freaks out; he pushes another inmate and moves toward the support rail of the bridge.

"What good is it anyhow for us to have a go at it!" he shouts. "See it clearly, everyone: we won't make it."

He leaps over the side and starts plunging down, down into a pit of fire...

A flying drone whisks by us and wraps the man in its embrace before carrying him far forward. The drone drops him off at the divide, where another sentinel waits patiently.

After he's dropped off, he glances around wildly, then he screams, "NO! NO!"

The sentinel shoots him in the head.

Immediately after, the flying drone picks him up again and carries him away.

The Warden's voice whispers in everybody's ear at one time:

"There are no other choices for you, my children. When you become a prisoner, prolonged life is a privilege."

Up ahead and near where the last guy tried to jump, I hear somebody respond. I can't make out what he said, but it sounded like a comeback, and everything goes silent again...

The line stops a second time when there's this loud shrieking. I think somebody else is having a breakdown until I remember what pain sounds like. It's bad, and he's screamin' loud enough to set my ears ringing.

The line's movin' again, but it's all awkward. They're lumberin' ahead slowly, and a sentinel's shouldering through behind me. Eventually, I come up on what'd stopped everyone, what made such a noise, and it's a fella who's completely in shock.

He's on his knees, eyes fixed far ahead and away from here, and he's got this grimace.

Guy's only got burning stumps for arms, and dark blood's drippin' down and hittin' melted metal—the same metal that makes up my shackles. It's lyin' between him and his two amputated forearms, and people are in so much of a rush that they step on them. His arms are gone, and now he's gotta watch them get trampled.

Then, at the end, and, like it goes for everybody else, the sentinel walks up and puts a bullet in him. Another body for the Federation.
2

The Third Level – II

\----

Raiko

\----

I DON'T GET HOW, and I know this sounds crazy, but I think the Warden had something to do with that man's shackles burnin'.

We're at the divide, and he hasn't moved, like he's behind more than we know. He sent his voice into our heads, and shackles don't just melt.

The group of us is directed along the only steel bridge that leads upward. The way is long and sorta hard to traverse, you know, but I'm makin' it and keepin' my mouth shut. I don't wanna get my hands burnt off.

The guy who knows my name is still behind me, lookin' mad protective. Doesn't that dumbass know I can hold my own?

Light comes in from two giant window panes as long as the rest of the upper Third Level. The bridge begins to curve in and winds higher into the Prison, and I think that maybe Group Seraph could get a chance at freedom. The higher we go, the closer we get to the Second Level, and, if I get transferred there, maybe I can hope to see another day.

I'm checkin' outside while everybody else has their heads down. No sentinels close by, so I try to take in as much as I can. I wanna remember what it's like to be free, when I wasn't a murderer.

"They call the upper part the 'Birdcage.'" the guy behind me says. "I've never known anybody to come back, so stay where I can see you."

"I don't need your help," I tell him. I'm not some punk-ass kid.

Before we can reach the top of the Third Level, the line comes to a halt.

We wait in front of this blue-grey gateway that's shaped in an arch and comes before a great wooden door with ringed door handles that are too far up for any of us to reach.

At this point, two flying drones take control of the scene and glide in to latch themselves onto both handles. They fly away from each door panel, and it takes a few seconds before the wood creaks and the portal's pulled open. A sentinel at the end of the bridge gestures for the line to move into a real spacious dining hall.

The line moves quicker than ever now, and we're all realizin' that there's a long, clothed table in front of us that nearly reaches throughout a place filled with tall, wooden seats with iron backings. The table's set for all of Group Seraph, and there's food everywhere: whole-roasted chickens, fried alligator, bahai'onen fish, stuffed mushrooms, fresh crab, racks of ribs bigger than me and from some exotic animal, and kegs of beer nicely arranged across its surface.

The mood changes. Everybody's hurryin' to take a seat while murmuring to each other. This is the fastest I've ever gotten to eat, and I'm sitting down with these fools, the happiest people I've seen in a minute. To complete the picture, there's only one sentinel guarding us now; the other guys think we're free to enjoy ourselves, and I'm for sure not about to waste my time.

I grab one of the stuffed mushrooms, and—

The stranger who's been following me smacks it outta my hand.

Instinctually, I stand up to confront him, but this fella's stronger than I think. All it takes is one arm, and he pushes me back into my seat.

"Easy," he says, "I'm trying to help you, man." he speaks all nervous and shit, and he fights to keep from shaking as he moves in closer.

"What the fuck do you want? You know I got a word limit, right?"

The sentinel blared above the commotion around me: "FROM THIS POINT ON, INMATES, ALL LEVEL THREE RESTRICTIONS HAVE BEEN REMOVED. THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIAL."

"Say what?"

The guy who keeps botherin' me looks over at the sentinel; the bot doesn't respond. It's still in place, like a watchdog.

"Hey," a kid younger than me and across the table speaks, "were you one of the ones whose codes lit up?"

This punk's got long and raggedy hair that covers small, brown eyes. His face looks pale. Kinda grimy—all gaunt, you know, and he's the frail type.

I don't trust him.

"Nah."

The other guy slaps me on the back of my head. I turn to fight him, but I remember that I'm taking my chances 'gainst a giant, and I got no knives.

"Your code did light up—hey," he shouts at the kid, who's already lifting a turkey leg to his mouth, "don't eat that shit, man! What did you just hear me tell him, boy? And Raik," he turns to me, "it's like I gotta give you a lesson or some shit."

He claps his hands together.

"Do you know who the fuck I am?"

I'm gonna to have to go for a low blow to stop this guy. I'll kick him in the groin and uppercut his shit promptly.

"No, huh?" he raises an eyebrow then straightens his back.

All right. I'm ready.

"You know the Kijivu Tribe, right?" he lifts his head, faking a smile.

Gotta be a rival soldier.

"Why? You got a grudge?"

"Boy, c'mon now, how could I have a grudge on myself."

The fuck he talkin' about now? If this fella don't stop—

"I'm the man who started your boy, L. I'm Magellan."

"The hell you are!"

I can't believe this. There's no way someone like him could be down in this pit!

"Boy..."

His eyes are serious, and, the more I look at them, it's like I keep wanting to trust him. He's just got this familiar expression, and it means something to me that I can't put into words.

"Yeah, man, I'm Magellan," he says again, and I give in while he steers the conversation:

"I was on the Second Level for a while until the Federation started 'discovering' other charges. Psh..."

He purses his lips. "Leading a 'syndicate' is like accepting a death sentence from the government.

"But I know about what you did for us, Raiko. You were a kid, an outsider, but you put respect on our name."

The boy speaks up, and his voice comes croaking out, "Your code lit up, too."

"Yeah," Magellan acknowledges him, "but why you askin' 'bout it?"

"I-I..." he's a child stuttering before men, "T-they said I was a part of Proclamation Five... but a detective told me that I'd be going into the Dar-Tech Program."

I got told that, too.

"We must've got rejected," I say.

"No." The kid looks down.

He's shook.

"I-it's just a mistake..."

Magellan comes to his rescue, "Yeah. Maybe."

He points at both of us. "You two could still be headin' there. This is close to the Second Level, so it looks like we're being given our last shots, boys, and, seein' as you two are the only kids, I want ya'll to stick with me."

"Why?" I ask him, and he gets heated.

"Because I'm the brutalist mothafucka in the room. If anybody's gonna pass a 'trial,' it's gonna be me, and I'm not about to leave behind a bunch of kids while I'm at it." He flares his nostrils. "That's not how I do things. My crew was an honorable fellowship, man, and Nathan had no right to rip us the way he did."

"Damn right."

And I'm suddenly placing all the blame for this on him.

It was bad enough that Ekwueme had fallen the way he did, but Nathan cracking under pressure from the police hurt L, too. His pops managed to keep him from the Prison, but he struck some deal that got L stuck forever with charges he can't shake. My boy can't get a good job in the Zones now, and it's all because a weak pussy snitched on the Kijivu.

Before I can understand what's going on, the environment around me liquefies and splinters. The dining table turns transparent, and a white outline of it starts shreddin' into tiny squares of matter. The world shines the color of a deep ocean, and then everything about the room turns into outlines, everything unravels. Particles of light break off into numbers and letters I've never seen before, and then the Warden's suddenly across the way, facing us.

\----

The room's changed, and we're standing in line at the center of a circular palace chamber where there's white-paneled doors all around, embedded in walls that fade to streams of scattered particles above my head. When the Warden speaks, everybody turns, and he doesn't raise his head. He doesn't move, and he doesn't breathe, I swear. His head's hung low behind that mask, and he's hunched over, like he's some old cripple.

I fell pressure against the right side of my arm, and some force pushes me with enough strength to knock me off my balance. I'm stumblin' to the side and given little time to do anything while my body keeps moving toward one of the door panels. Magellan, the kid, and some weird woman is alongside me, and we stagger when the same force separates Group Seraph into smaller squads.

The Warden finally makes the first move I've seen from him.

His arms stay together while one of his legs trembles. It's not just trembling, though. It does these weird spasms and doesn't seem like it can hold his weight. I hear a deep grunt, and the Warden slides forward. He stiffens up as he extends his other leg. When he tries to stand right, he shakes all violently.

And then... he starts to laugh, but it's a screechin', disgusting kinda laugh. It's the kind that makes me want to set up on his ass, even though he's moving faster now. The Warden shifts before our eyes and returns to a slow crawl right before he approaches the center.

He gets to the middle and says to us in this muffled, scraggly tone of voice:

"Take heed, my children, for this is the last stop before the resurrection.

"Group Seraph has been selected for the Big Event. All of you shall bathe in the Light of Avva, showing this world that you can redeem yourselves after all. You are the lost children, the sheep who must be herded back to the beginning, to the original void—

"Oh, heh, I'm getting myself all worked up now. I'm caught in Her spirit, so I must provide the best for the Dawn Federation. My children!" he shouts and steadily raises his shackled hands in the air, "Let the Event commence!"

Each set of doors parts, and the same power from before pushes us all into plain, cramped elevators. I brush against the woman, and then I feel something burn my right elbow.

I cry out because that shit turns my skin bright red.

She faces me with a fuckin' smile. If it had been anyone else, I'd be pissed, yo, but she's different... way different from anybody else in here.

This lady, who's gotta be in her thirties, immediately glows blue; imagine this, a coat of what looks like scales appears on her legs and starts to grow from there. Her face pales into a navy color, and her eyes transform into these ghostly pearls while her silver hair gets darker.

Everyone else steps back from her, and she says, without looking at anybody, "Don't touch me."

Her voice is dramatic and whiny, but it feels phony. She's like an actor, and she cries out, "I'm just another victim of the system! Why would you even think of laying your hands on a lady—oh!" She places the back of her hand against her forehead and scowls, "What poor manners."

Magellan tries to gather what courage he has and gets her attention; his eyes widen while he speaks up, "Yo! I don't know too many 'ladies' who can do what you just did right there. I-I don't even know whether I'm turned on, or—"

"Be silent." Her voice lowers to a growl, then she sneers. "The amenities of this place have grown old. I desire some manner of distraction to help me escape."

"E-excuse me?"

Magellan steps toward her.

She reaches out, and the veins in her wrist break through her skin. They shoot out past her palm and crystallize into this thick, translucent shiv.

Her body moves faster than I can actually comprehend, and the end of the shank's piercing the side of Magellan's throat before he can react.

She stops short of plunging it through, and Magellan falls to his knees as she continues to hold the shank at his throat.

"Now, now, dear," she says, "don't try to play in the big leagues if you haven't what it takes."

She draws the shiv away then caresses his chin in her other hand; Magellan doesn't seem to mind.

"Sir, I have no desire to use children to further my interests, and so I expect that someone such as yourself is a natural gentleman."

"Well... yeah—but, but..." Magellan's out of breath and stutters, "Look, I'm just amazed that I'm still alive—you gotta give me a moment, miss."

"Hmph!"

She pushes his face back and walks away from him as the elevator keeps bringing us up to a higher floor. The change in gravity causes Magellan to fall over, but he gets to his feet to quickly dust himself off.

Dude's in love.

"Miss," he says, "what are you doing here?"

"Someone touched me." she glares my way.

It's not even my fault.

"Whatchu mean?" Magellan starts.

She smiles. "Well, you tell me. A Vice Executive's head of housing was supposed to hook me up with an excellent price in the Upper-City. Ah," her eyes wander off as she sighs, "the price of true luxury can never be measured, but the Upper-City is a close match.

"My days could've been filled with theater, with romance, expensive dates and flowers, new technology—oh!" she moans and then recollects herself into a sad remnant of the life she was showin' before.

"But the pig got handsy with me." she says and without any of the previous emotion.

Just as the elevator comes to a stop, she tells us, "I killed him. Then I got a little carried away."

She snickers, covering her mouth.

"I killed his wife, too, because she was so pretty, and she was so rich, so decorated. I wanted what she had—"

"H-hold on, lady," Magellan gestures for her to stop, "I don't need to hear the whole story. I'm sorry for your troubles, just help us get out of here, please." He looks sincere, which makes me feel sorry for him.

"Heh." She turns as the doors open and heads out before any of us and into a room lit by a white surface that doesn't seem real. It's like we've been taken to cyberspace, to one of them virtual reality worlds, but I know it's just another damn trick, yo.

She looks around until her eyes get fixated on something below us.

"So, this is the 'Birdcage,' huh? It's all right, everyone," she says to us, "we can keep going."

When we step out of the elevator, our feet touch the beginning of a haunting bridge made up of data fragments. Ahead, the bridge connects to a clearing on a black pedestal with two smaller bridges leading to separate doors made of the same data; below, and where the woman's looking, there's a network of digital pathways that lead into these roundish, iron buildings with metal gratings at their tops. Both sides of the buildings end in sharp spires, and they lookin' just as unreal as everything else.

I can see other inmates going along roads like mine, but it looks like they have different ends, and some of the cages are clustered together. And, above all this shit...

It's just dark, like a pit that rises toward nothing when there's supposed to be sky, and I can see that it's almost over for me in here.

Before we reach the pedestal, Magellan ensures we travel behind him as he steps toward the woman.

"What do you know about the Birdcage?"

She stops at the clearing and turns, still smirking. "Come here and you'll find out."

"What?" Magellan stops in his tracks and keeps us back with outstretched arms.

"Oh dear..." she sighs while rolling her eyes, "If you are to survive, sweetie, you're going to have to leave your human sympathies behind."

"And you have already, huh?" Magellan retorts gruffly.

"Hm. No, I haven't, and I can tell you that the Birdcage is more than a bad fable."

Magellan frowns. "What do you know that we don't, miss?"

She goes blank and says, "That, unless you are like me, none of you will make it out of here, and I can't risk what it takes to protect you, either.

"Therefore!" she growls at Magellan, "The burden of keeping two bratty children alive falls to you—that is, if you don't follow my path..."

What she just said is important, and I can sense that she's offering something to Magellan. He doesn't respond and seems to forget us while continuing toward the pedestal and eventually joining her.

We follow, and then the Big Event commences.
3

The Birdcage

\----

Raiko

\----

JUST WHEN I THINK HIS PART'S OVER, the Warden appears again.

He shows up between two paths that lead to separate cages. His image is suspended as a hologram that's too real. Even though he speaks from a remote place, you can feel his presence in the shackles; he's always got control of us.

"Team Number Twenty-Six, this is the beginning of the Birdcage Trial, and it commences with a harmless order. Here, the group must decide collectively on which door they will choose in order to begin the Trial.

"According to the Way of Avva, prosperity is reached through fervent dedication, through discipline, and through just courage. Even when divided, the strong are expected to overcome or sacrifice themselves for the Way of the Future, which is the way leading to paradise for all mankind. Do you accept these conditions?" the Warden asks.

Magellan nods. "Yeah."

The lady pretends he isn't there.

The Warden doesn't mind, and he acknowledges Magellan as our group's speaker.

"In revered Passage 12-8, Avva edifies the people of the Citadel; she tells us:

"'Fear is not a constant. Fear comes when a love for truth is abandoned, therefore criminals are the direct spawn of fear. Men who abandon their rightful duties are not men, and those who pursue paths deviant to society's development are not deserving of the same peace offered to ordinary citizens. Thus, let the sinners, the prisoners of the city, face great judgment. Let them be divided!'"

The Warden shouts:

"Only two of you may take the path that leads to the right cage, and a total of three of you may take the one that leads to the left; regardless of which choice you make, you will be judged."

I hear a distant scream followed by the sound of gunshots.

Magellan scratches his chin and ponders what we've been told.

"It doesn't matter to me," the lady says, "but I calculate our possibility of survival to be about twenty-eight percent. Hmm..."

"What you on about?" Magellan sighs and turns to look at her.

"Why, my dear, I simply mean that the two of us together might just boost our chances!" Her eyes get wide. She's got this lame, giddy smile that makes me shudder because I know what she's thinking.

So does Magellan.

"Ah yeah," his tone's sarcastic as he raises his head slightly to look down on her—even though she's the same height, "and how much does abandoning two kids help our chances of getting out of government prison, huh?"

I feel some type of pressure and a cold chill pass through my body. The lady's angry with Magellan, and she's lit up with a dark light.

"Because I'm a consumer. When I'm not bound by chains, I kill. When my appetite's ripe—heh."

A wicked grin spreads 'cross her face.

"I enjoy a little piece of every victim!" the lady laughs, and Magellan's holdin' back from saying anything. He knows better.

"My name is Nezdia. I've never lost, but, in this prison..."

"Getting through this with my life isn't guaranteed, and I won't be stopped until I'm reunited with my brothers and sisters, so, Magellan," she lowers her voice, "ditch the kids, lend me some of your strength..."

Nezdia licks her lips.

"And I promise I'll return the favor, honey."

"It's like that, huh?" he says.

"It's however you want it, but hurry up, darling." Nezdia turns her back to us and fast-walks down the right path.

Magellan exhales while shaking his head.

"Hey, mister." the kid finally speaks, and he's solemn.

"What's up, kid? You good?" Magellan seems to forget about Nezdia altogether as he turns around and scrunches his eyebrows.

The kid bows his head and comes back with, "Don't worry about us. I think me and Raiko can handle the Trial on our ow—"

"Boy, shut up!" Magellan barks at him and then glares at both of us as he straightens and clears his throat, "I'm not about to leave the two of ya'll behind."

He points at Nezdia's lower half and declares, "Even if that woman is DAMN fine, I've got different priorities, and I'll be motherfuckin' damned if I give up on what I said I was gonna do."

Magellan breathes in and out, thinks for a second, and then he addresses the Warden:

"Yo, Mr. Warden, I think the three of us gonna make it without any help."

He swallows and nods, like he's assurin' himself as he's talking, "We got what it takes, Mr. Warden. Bet that."

"Very well. If you have made your choice, proceed to the left cage, and let the Way of Avva prevail in your judgments."

Our shackles clank and open. They fall to the floor, and we all share the same amazed look, all except for Nezdia, who treats it as a natural thing and then disappears into a holographic portal.

"C'mon, fellas."

He leads the group of us toward an iron door. It changes, transforming into a blue light that resembles the other portal. Some of the light bends and reaches out to scan us, and I gotta shield my eyes because of how bright it is. I hear a digital beep that's upbeat and positive, like it's confirming that we're ready for the Trial, and I hope that we'll pass it.

\----

The entrance beams ahead with a dim blue light that doesn't show anything, and it goes on forever. I don't trust it, and Magellan reaches out to stop me before I can come up beside him.

"Wait," he says, "there's one more thing I gotta teach you boys."

"You don't gotta teach me nothin'," I tell him.

"Shut the hell up, you triflin' punk—hey!" he gets closer, "I'm trying to show you that everything's not always what it seems."

Magellan reaches out to touch my shoulder again, and I step back on cue, but then I see it:

Magellan's holding a bright, steel bar the size of my forearm. There's a long chain attached to it, and the chain's wrapped in dozens of windin' circles 'round his right bicep. There's somethin' different about him now, though, and I see that his bicep's purpled over and looks like it's stretching the skin in a gross kinda way, veins pushed out and everything.

"What... —Where the fuck you get that from, boss?"

He steps back and whirls the metal chunk above his head in a smooth, rapid arc before letting it smash against the floor.

"He has it, too!" the boy next to me points and gives Magellan this creepy smile.

Magellan doesn't skip a beat, yo, and he says, "You got that right, kid, and ya'll might be capable of doing the same thing real soon. Actually," he looks ahead triumphantly, "that's what this test is all about."

"I don't get it." I go toward him, demanding to know what I don't.

He snorts, "Raiko and...?" he stares at the other inmate.

"Avodeus."

"Interesting." Magellan's eyes change. He understands more than I thought, but his attitude's gettin' tiresome.

"Like one of the Tribes that founded the Citadel, right?"

"Uh huh."

"All right then." He looks down. "Raiko and Avodeus. Yeah..."

Magellan quickly glances at both of us. "I'm gonna fill you in on what I came to find after my boss passed on, cool? Cool.

"Before a buddy of mine, Nathan, snitched on the whole crew, and after we'd caught a little heat, I thought I could take up the mantle, you know, and head what was left of the Kijivu Tribe. Some of Ekwueme's better connections weren't tryin' to fuck with my management style, though.

"We got low on manpower, and the Zone was crawlin' with authorities, all of them investigating the death of a cyborg.

"To survive, I started searchin' for allies in the Lower-City... and I found them."

His eyes are all serious, and I really take in what he's telling us.

"I learned some things about humans. Some things that people aren't supposed to know—and for good reason."

He drags his steel piece across the ground.

"This is what's called 'Maia.'

"Now, I don't know if I'm the best person to explain this to a couple a' kids, but just know that, if I go into meditation, if I trace the same pattern on the ground for a long time... I can create something."

"Create?"

This has gotta be some batshit talk.

"Yeah, kid." he says to me, "I can create a weapon. It's the same weapon, and not always the same size or made of the same stuff every time, but it's always some shit on a chain, man, and the Kijivu Tribe's new friends blessed me with the knowledge to use it."

"How the fuck's that possible?"

"Curse at me one more time, punk," he shouts. "C'mon, man!"

I know I'm outmatched, that I'm talkin' the way I am because I gotta fake my strength here. But, if Magellan's real with what he says... I have to know:

"Yo, my man, let me get a weapon then."

Magellan smiles. "I thought you'd say that. Avodeus!"

"Yes?"

"You want somethin' to defend yourself with, too?"

"I..." he can't match Magellan's intimidating gaze, and his voice gets low, weak. "I don't want to fight anything, sir. I'm sorry."

"Oh yeah? You think the Trial's gonna be a soft experience?"

"Please!" he manages to confront Magellan and cries out, "I don't have what it takes—t-that's why they denied me for Proclamation Five! I'm not strong enough to handle myself on my own!"

Magellan steps toward him, and his other arm tenses while it makes this squelching noise, like flesh being compressed. I feel a similar pressure to the one I got from Nezdia, but his is for sure weaker, and the air around him shimmers a bit. It's like his body gives off enough heat to affect the world around him.

"Don't get all pathetic on me, Avodeus," he snarls at the kid, and I see veins pop from his arm while he traces something through the air with two fingers, closes his eyes, and keeps speaking:

"Maia means creation, boy, and creating matter ain't no easy job...

"In the deep parts of the Citadel, where it's wild and forces you to prove yourself, somebody showed me the way. Come on and listen, ya'll, cause what I'm about to tell you and how you end up using it could affect your survival.

"There's a type of rhythm that flows through certain people, man. Souls make music of their own, and everyone plays a different type of song. The concept of spiritual music is in the Way of Sidogush, and it talks about the Chaplain of Lord Isolakandi, the brother who became a God and helped make this city.

"This Chaplain wasn't a fighter. Naw, this man relied on a type of inner harmony; he was blissful and found raw sound that had never been heard before, and it was in him, too..."

Magellan lowers his voice: "Not only could this man go untouched when his enemies came at him, but he could create shit from nothing. He knew Maia, and that's my 'Spectrum'—that's what I learned, at least."

"I think I understand," I admit to him and let my guard down.

Something in Magellan makes me think of myself, and he might feel the same way.

"You make expression mean something, right? You use music to make instruments that kill?"

"Not exactly—though," he smirks and thinks out loud, "that is a nice way of puttin' it—but shut up and listen:

"Maia is the Way of Creation. It's all about changing matter, about focusing on desire and fury at once." Magellan prods my chest using my own finger. "You've gotta realize what kind of symphony or piece will really make you wake up, and, once you've seen it..."

Magellan closes his eyes.

Before the two of us, he grasps the chain. With his free hand, he traces something along his shrunken wrist. I feel heat gather around us, and there's a faint light that flows out of him. Magellan's arm purples and tightens even more and to where it looks sick, rotted, and he's faking a smile while almost buckling under pain. His face is all red, and the skin beneath his wrist turns to silver and parts while sending out another chain. Magellan grabs the new one and traces somethin' else while breathing onto it.

"C'mon now!" he says and grits his teeth. "Don't let me down!"

—MAIA: GENESIS—

Silver veins sprout from the end of the chain, shaping into a small knife.

Magellan spins his shiv through the air one more time and brings it around to catch the blade, wrapped in steel links at the handle.

He presents the weapon to me, but I hesitate.

I'm used to close-ranged fighting with a shank, and I don't want to touch anything that's come outta this man's body.

"Before you take it," he says, presuming I already will, "you need to be aware that its existence is linked to my spirit, and so this thing's not really s'posed to change hands—but," he cautions, "it'll probably latch onto whatever you've got in you, kid, and you'd better hope you can handle it if it does."

Magellan holds it out to me.

"Take it."

Like a father tellin' his son what to do, I grab the knife without think—!

Pain.

Goddammit. So much pain! My head's hurtin' so bad that I can't even open my eyes, and I fall to my knees while the shank sticks to my hand.

Its chain clanks against the ground, and I can't hear anything around me but a steady ringing. I see Magellan clearly in a dark tunnel...

Then I see him and a child. Dude's son. He's walkin' toward his son, and the kid runs away with him trailing behind. Magellan spasms, falls, and some dark form comes over him. I see it separate into two shapes that move around his arms and become shackles, and Magellan shines too bright for me to see.

I feel heat gather in my stomach, like knives slicing my insides, like a sickness that creeps up on you when you've had too much to drink. I feel nausea, and my mouth's filled with vomit all the sudden.

"Hey! Raik, don't give in to it, boy! Tough it out!"

I spit up and fall back to the ground. My abs clench real tight, my throat's burnin' now, and I'm dizzy. Magellan grabs me by my shoulders and looks into my eyes, but I'm lost...

"There's no time for this, Raik! Listen, I heard you got a lot of potential, so you can't quit on me—ya hear?"

I grip the shank and toss it out before catching and wrapping the beginning of the chain around my hand. I shake and keep my eyes closed, but I say back to him, "I can... handle it."

When I feel I can see again, I notice that Magellan's eyes are burning with two different lights, one black and one red. His spirit's stronger. I feel closer to him.

The chained shank he's made me tells a story, and I start to understand Magellan as more than a stupid stranger.

For the first time in my life, I'm willing to follow someone.

"Raiko," Avodeus comes toward me, "are—are you all right?"

I gesture in the direction of the Birdcage.

"Let's go."

Magellan nods, puffing out his chest with pride.

"That's what I'm talkin' about," he says.
4

The Trial

\----

Raiko

\----

WE MOVE ALONG A WHITE HALLWAY THAT'S LIT WITH FLUORESCENT BARS ALL THE WAY THROUGH.

At the end, there's a small, circular room with a metallic door, one that's got no handles or features. Next to that, there's a window that peers into the outside of the Prison and only shows the clouds surrounding us at this level. There's a wide computer monitor below that, and it's angled down at both us, along with a black keyboard that's taller than me and attached to a chunk in the wall. The recess's filled with small wires and all kinds of lights shining through a bunch of panels.

Magellan approaches the monitor aggressively and keeps us behind him before he takes notice of the outside world. When he sees them clouds, it changes him.

"Damn," he says, losing himself for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Avodeus comes to stand next to Magellan, but he stops him and shakes his head.

"It's just a memory of how things used to be, boy. Nothin' to get worked up over now."

"What is this thing?"

I've never seen a screen and keyboard like this before. Growin' up, most of the kids with money got hands-free kinda tech—you know, virtual reality stuff, and they always made that shit look real easy.

"This is how computers used to run before the gov'ment overhauled everything..." Magellan scratches his beard again, then he hesitates while looking over a series of letters, and all of them are etched on small squares the size of my finger.

Before he can do much else, the screen goes to a bright ruby. A small alarm sounds off, blarin' strong in the tiny room. The monitor divides into three screens, each of which are cameras with each of our faces in the middle o' them. Every screen bends at the divide and spills into each other, and we see our faces joined together into a head with no eyes, no mouth, and nothing else to distinguish it in any way. The color of it goes from a colorless mask to a silver face which doesn't have any of our qualities.

The empty face stares back at us while tiny silhouettes of Magellan, Avodeus, and me appear below it in blue lights. At the moment, I think my mind's still right, and my condition can't be bad enough to make me surrender.

"WELCOME TO THE TRIAL OF THE BIRDCAGE." a monotone voice bleeps out from the face; it looks three-dimensional now. The head's poppin' out from where it's s'posed to be, and it examines us.

My silhouette flashes yellow for a moment, and both Magellan and Avodeus check me over with worry. I forget that age and common sense doesn't matter between three men trying not to get executed in a prison made for animals.

"I AM YOUR GUIDE, AND YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS MAXWELL."

"They got names for these things?" Magellan peers at the head closely, and I realize that it's way more lifelike than I thought.

"ON THE CONTRARY, I AM NOT A 'THING.'" it responds and looks like it's angry at Magellan now.

His face flushes. His silhouette flashes yellow, the same way mine did.

"ALLOW ME TO RESTATE:

"I AM MAXWELL, THE GUIDE OF THOSE SELECTED FOR THE BIG EVENT AND THE PROCTOR OF THE TRIAL. ALTHOUGH MY PROCESSING ABILITY IS LIMITED BY TERMINALS LIKE THIS, I MAY STILL READ ALL HUMAN EMOTION EXPERIENCED WITHIN THE BIRDCAGE, AND I AM AWARE OF THE CRIMINAL HISTORIES OF ALL PRESENT:

"MAGELLAN, CONVICTED OF GRADE TWO RACKETEERING, ILLEGAL DISTRIBUTION, AND MANSLAUGHTER.

"RAIKO, CONVICTED OF MANSLAUGHTER AND ATTEMPTED MANSLAUGHTER.

"AVODEUS..."

The proctor stops to ponder the same thing we're all wondering.

Avodeus' silhouette flashes red, black, and then it becomes the only yellow light next to our stable clones.

"AVODEUS," it starts again and looks in the direction of the kid, "CONVICTED OF PRECISELY THREE COUNTS OF PREMEDITATED MANSLAUGHTER. INMATE AVODEUS KILLED THREE OTHERS JUST A LITTLE OLDER THAN HIMSELF. TELL THEM HOW OLD YOU ARE."

Avodeus quivers and seems more afraid of me and Magellan than before.

"Nine," he says.

"Nine!" Magellan exclaims and puts his hands together. "Nine years old with three bodies—mothaf—!"

"AVODEUS, THE FIRST QUESTION OF THE TRIAL IS FOR YOU. EACH PARTICIPANT WILL RECEIVE EQUAL ATTENTION. THIS IS WHERE THE CHOSEN INMATE MUST DEMONSTRATE UNDERSTANDING OF THE TEACHINGS OF JUSTICE.

"INMATE AVODEUS, DO YOU BELIEVE IN JUSTICE?"

I already know what he's gonna say, and my heart races to stop him from sayin' it!

"No."

"Boy, what—"

"IS THIS YOUR HONEST ANSWER?"

"Boy!" Magellan glares at him. "You'd better take that shit back!"

"Yes." Avodeus nods.

"Hey!"

"INMATE MAGELLAN," the sound of Maxwell speaking his name makes him jump, "THE NEXT QUESTION IS FOR YOU."

"Uh... all right," he replies with a shaky tone. "Let me have it."

"DO YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE DOING THE RIGHT THING FOR YOUR SON?"

"The right thing? By being in this place?"

"INMATE MAGELLAN, DO YOU THINK THAT YOUR ACTIONS JUSTIFY YOUR INTENT? DOES ORGANIZED CRIME BENEFIT ANYONE BUT THOSE IN YOUR OWN FAMILY?"

"Don't throw shade on me." Magellan scowls. "I did what I had to do out there, and I'll be damned if you accuse me of wanting to get locked up on the Third mothafuckin' Level!"

"Yo, Magellan! Chill," I say to him, and he actually listens.

"I'm sorry." he says while keeping his eyes fixed to the keyboard in front of him. "I should be with my kid..."

"INMATE RAIKO." Maxwell ignores him and continues with the trial.

Even though I've watched it happen once before, having my name called shocks me in the same way, like I forgot I'm under interrogation the same way everyone else is. One wrong answer, and...

Shit, man.

"INMATE RAIKO, YOUR FULL HISTORY IS IN MY SYSTEM. YOU WERE RAISED BY THIS CITY."

"H-how do you know that?"

The monitor flickers to an overhead camera view. It's a recording, and the camera's placed on a pole or tree high up. I can't see the date on the vid, but it's familiar to me somehow. I recognize that little alcove where the front door used to be, the front door to my moms and pops. I see this dude in a striped, green and yellow hoodie come to the front door and let himself in. I remember that bastard's face; I remember what he did.

I'm angry that they're all seein' this, too, that my life's a fuckin' show to them.

I step forward. I feel like putting my fist through the screen!

"Ay," Magellan puts his hand on my chest.

The monitor's black again, and Maxwell's face appears with a digital shriek.

"INMATE RAIKO," Maxwell asks me, "DOES GOD EXIST?"

"No. I mean, I-I don't think so. Can't be possible."

"WHY DO YOU FEEL THIS WAY?"

Both Avodeus and Magellan are focusing on me, trying to convince me not to say something that'll piss off this machine, but I know by now, and more than these fools, that you can't expect kindness for kindness. All you can do is tell the truth and keep your eyes peeled for what happens next.

Maxwell's question strikes me the wrong way, and it takes me somewhere in my mind that's been buried for too long.

"How can you expect me to believe in God—or Avva, shit—if I have to live knowin' that motherfuckers gonna get thrown down in a pit like this, that this city, with all its money and tech, will watch as people die for no damn reason! There's no fuckin' rehabilitation going on here!"

"Raik, man!" Magellan starts, but I won't let him cut me off.

I won't let anybody tell me how it is because I know how this is gonna go—I promise.

"This trial ends with me in body bag, yo. What God plays such a sick joke called Hope, man? What is hope good for, tell me? Is Avva gonna bring back pops? Naw."

I raise my voice, and Maxwell stays quiet, "Is God gonna come set me free? Is war gonna stop, are bangers gonna repent? Will human dignity be restored the way it should be?

"It's bullshit, man. This is about survival, and we've lost the game."

"What you gonna do about it, boy?" Magellan retorts. "You givin' up after I made you that knife?"

"No... I..."

I'm lost in thought.

Maxwell keeps going without me.

"INMATE AVODEUS," it says, "EXPLAIN HOW YOUR VICTIMS PERISHED OR YOU WILL BE ISSUED THE ULTIMATE PENALTY."

"I can't," the kid gasps while backing away from us.

"You've got to!" Magellan barks. "For us!"

"INMATE AVODEUS, YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE..."
5

Avodeus

\----

Avodeus

\----

THEY'RE BOTH LOOKING AT ME, but I'm feeling too nauseous to pay attention. I've been sick since I woke up in this place... j-just been hiding it until now.

I need blood. I'm craving it and I can't focus and these questions... it's overwhelming. If the older kid keeps eyeing me like that, I'll have to make him suffer!

He's making me so angry, and I'll drain him—I'll get out of this place. Ugh... my mouth's watering...

I'm in a daze, but I'll t-tell Maxwell the truth. I don't want to die alone in this place. It feels like a long time ago, but, I've forgotten about how time works anymore. The Federation locked me in solitude on the Fourth Level for a month; they punished me for what I did, but it's not over.

\----

My mother was the only one around to take care of me in Zone E, but I hardly got to see her. I'm only nine years old, and I wonder what she thinks of me now. Not that it matters anymore.

She was saving up for my enrollment into virtual school. All the other Zones had them because they're better than public schools, safe. I thought I was safe enough in a traditional school, too.

I got picked on by the same kids for years. I was always tall, but my body's weak. I was sickly—still am—and I came from nothing. All the money mother made went to debt collectors, and one meal a day was considered a blessing.

She couldn't do anything about the bullies, though.

They'd corner me at different times, a-and they'd threaten me, ask for what money I had. I let them push me around because I knew I wasn't strong enough on my own to fight back, but I never thought it'd go so far, not like this.

I'm... I'm a horrible human being.

I'm just so hungry—but they did this to me! Please believe me...

Four of them, Heinn, Kersei, Roby, and Deren—four all followed me as I was taking the long way by passing through the woods between my E-01 Institution and the small house my mother rented. I went by the riverbed that runs through the center of the forest and found Heinn at the top of a dirt slope, leaning forward on one foot as the other three lurked in the distance.

Heinn had a wooden stick, just a little bit bigger than usual; Kersei carried a slingshot; the other two stretched their arms and smirked at me.

"It's about time you paid back your debt, kid!" Heinn smacked the stick across his hand and recoiled for a second, not realizing how hard he'd hit himself.

"Goddammit!" he exclaimed, and then, faster than I'd thought possible, Heinn lunged at me.

I flinched and backed away, but it was too late.

Heinn swung and whipped the branch across my head, and I collapsed to the ground with wide cuts and splinters dug in my cheek. He swung down and struck my back, and I felt a snap followed by intense pain.

Kersei shot a rock at me and missed, but Deren was already at my side, and he kicked me so hard that I felt really sick. I started throwing up, and they kept beating me.

I remember that Heinn screamed: "You fucking freak! Why don't you go ask your dad for help—oh yeah, that's right, he died in a crash! What a fucking moron!"

They laughed, and I realized that I couldn't move. My vision started to blur, and I felt Deren launch his foot into my stomach before I was knocked out.

\----

When I'd opened my eyes again, they were all gone. I could move now, and I stood to see the same part of the woods, peaceful but haunting. I thought I'd died and gone to another world. I couldn't feel them hurting me anymore, but I felt terrified when a red mist formed and clouded up the whole forest. I looked toward the skies, and I saw blood gems fill the expanse above my head. It was beautiful...

Droplets of blood started to rain from the skies, and it felt light, unreal, but I screamed when I saw that it ran down my body.

"AVODEUS, MY CHILD!"

A woman's voice called out, and the ground at my feet started to shift. Hard soil separated and liquefied, and my ankles were suddenly submerged in a pinkish broth. Ahead of me, there were these red, veined tentacles that kept writhing and extended from a shriveled but tall, disgusting body that was made of sagging, bloody fat and muscle. Her face was that of an octopus, with a huge, bulging head which produced black spots that faded in and out of different parts of her skull. Tendrils rolled down from bright, bloodshot eyes that looked so real and glared at me above a gaping maw. Her mouth was this horrible black hole with blood-stained teeth circling the edges, and a two-pronged tongue moved on its own in the darkness.

I froze, out of panic, and then I started to sweat, hoping this creature wouldn't move toward me, but the longer I looked at her—the closer her face kept getting.

Closer and closer, until her eyes seemed only right across from mine, and I thought I'd be consumed by those fangs—

"AVODEUS..."

Something wet touched the side of my face, then it slid down in a trail of slime. It curled around my neck, and she spoke again, letting me know her true nature:

"I AM LAMASHTU, THE GODDESS OF YEN, OF HUNGER, OF DEVASTATION...

"I AM THE MATRON OF CHILDREN, THE GUARDIAN OF CONSUMPTION...

"I WISH TO GIVE THEE A NEW NAME."

Her voice was accompanied with sounds I'd never heard before, sounds that I couldn't understand and can't describe, but there was an awful music buried behind her calm tone. Those eyes had the look of enraged hunger, and the other side of my face was wet with another small tendril curling up it, toward my right eye.

"NOSFERATU WAS THE NAME OF MY LAST CHAMPION, BUT HE GAVE HIMSELF AWAY TO GREED. HE FEASTED IN THE PUBLIC EYE, AND THE WORLD PUT HIM TO THE SLAUGHTER.

"MY CHILD, I WOULD MAKE YOU AN OFFER AND WAGER FAVORABLY UPON THE OUTCOME OF A PACT FORMED BETWEEN THE TWO OF US. YOU AND I MAY CHANGE THIS WORLD IN WAYS UNIMAGINABLE, FOR I SENSE YOUR ANGER, YOUR CUNNING."

I couldn't say anything back. I didn't know what she might do if I interrupted any bit of her speech.

"AVALIN, THE CHILD OF MYRA, YOU HAVE BEEN SET UPON BY THE FIENDS OF THIS WORLD. FOUL CHILDREN HAVE MADE THEE INTO PREY, AND, WITHOUT MY GUIDANCE, YOU MAY PASS INTO THE NEXT WORLD WITHOUT SOLACE.

"AVALIN, I WISH TO GRANT YOU THE TITLE OF 'AVODEUS,' MY MOST POWERFUL SERVANT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, AVALIN?"

"Y-yes." I nodded quickly.

"MY CHILD, IN EXCHANGE FOR THE POWER I WILL GIVE THEE, I WISH SOMETHING IN RETURN. I AM THE GODDESS OF YEN, AND I DESIRE HAVOC; I WISH TO SEE FRENZY WITHIN THIS WORLD, AN EMISSARY WHO CAN GLORIFY MY NAME.

"'AVODEUS' IS THE TITLE OF THE CONSUMER, AND SO YOU WILL BE A RAVENOUS BEING. MY CHILD, YOU WILL LONG FOR YOUR OWN KIND. AVODEUS IS THE CREEPING IN THE DARKNESS, A PROMISE OF BLOOD AND HAVOC. YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN DYING AT THE HANDS OF YOUR ENEMIES OR MERELY GIVING OVER TO YOUR NEW IDENTITY WITHIN THIS COVENANT. WHAT SAY YOU?"

Who would take care of my mother when I went away? I didn't know how to be strong, but I could survive for her. I couldn't imagine what news of my death would do to her, and I didn't want my actions to hu...

—But I did hurt them, didn't I?

I hurt them really bad.

"I-I don't want to die," I said, and a strange warmth came over me.

"I'll do anything..." Fear took hold. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"CHILD AVALIN, DO YOU CONSENT TO OUR COVENANT, WHICH WILL BEAR THE FRUIT OF BLOODSHED AND MAKE YOU INTO A MOST WONDERFUL CHAMPION?"

I knew it was wrong. What I was doing was evil, but the music kept distracting me. I just wanted to live—I swear! I nodded my head—

"DO YOU ALSO CONSENT TO THE SACRIFICE OF THOSE WHO WOULD STAND AGAINST YOU? ALLOW THEIR SACRIFICE TO BECOME THE SYMBOL OF OUR BOND?"

"Y-yes!"

"VERY WELL. MAY MY CHILD BE NOURISHED FOREVERMORE..."

\----

I don't remember anything after that, and I swear I thought I'd fallen asleep. B-but there, in the woods...
6

The Trial – II

\----

Raiko

\----

MAGELLAN'S SHOOK BY EVERYTHING AVODEUS JUST TOLD US. It sounds like a fuckin' lie, though, and that computer's listening on like it believes him. He's gonna get us all killed.

"Ay, wait," Magellan interjects, "ain't no way this shit is possible—I heard about you... 'bout what happened to those kids."

The monitor turns bright red, the center of the terminal makes this loud-ass screeching, and Maxwell blares over our heads:

"INTERRUPTIONS ARE NOT TOLERATED DURING THE TRIAL. THIS IS A REMINDER THAT ONLY THOSE QUESTIONED MAY RESPOND. FURTHER VIOLATIONS OF THIS PROTOCOL WILL RESULT IN SEVERE PENALTIES.

"INMATE AVODEUS, WHAT IS YOUR CRIME?"

Kid's cryin'. He's shakin' while he struggles to ignore Magellan. Magellan looks real heated, and I wanna know why before I choose a side.

Suddenly, the kid grins in this weird way and shakes his head over and over. Magellan finally reaches out and changes his expression a little, like he's concerned more than he's disgusted.

"Heinn, D-Deren, Kersei, and... —and Roby aren't alive anymore. I didn't believe it when they told me. I couldn't have...

"The investigator said that pieces of them were everywhere—arms, jaws, guts, and all. That part of the forest was coated in nothing but blood, and the ground where I'd been beaten down was just a large scorch mark.

"The world thought I'd actually cut the four of them up and spent days hacking them into small sections. They labeled me as a psychopath who'd smeared his victims' remains after he'd claimed them.

"But that's not who I am! They attacked me, a-and Lamashtu defended me!"

"INMATE AVODEUS, DO YOU CLAIM RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS?"

Magellan's holdin' his breath; his anxiety's rubbin' off on me, and it doesn't help when he comes over just to pat my back, like everything's gonna be fine. I want to say something, but Maxwell's not playin' around.

"I..."

Both Magellan and I stare at him.

Don't fuck this up, kid.

"I claim responsibility." Avodeus gets down on one knee and glances at the monitor as he says, "They were going to kill me."

"AND SO YOU PARTNERED WITH A DEMON?"

Maxwell has more personality than I thought. It's like another human's in the room with us.

"YOU DECIDED THAT FORMING A CONTRACT WITH A GREAT THREAT TO ALL CITIZENS WAS MORE JUST THAN FACING A THREAT WHICH ONLY EXISTED TO YOU, INMATE AVODEUS?"

"N-no!" the kid gasps and shakes harder. "I just didn't want to die! Please believe me!"

"IS IT MORE JUST TO SAVE MANY OR TO FOCUS ON THE ONE? WHAT SIGNIFICANCE DOES YOUR LIFE POSSESS OVER OTHERS?"

"It doesn't..."

"INMATE MAGELLAN." Maxwell switches focus faster than we can keep up.

"Yes, Sir!"

"IS DEVIANCE HARMFUL?"

"I... I don't understand the question."

"INMATE MAGELLAN, DO YOU THINK YOUR LEADERSHIP AND PROMOTION OF THE KIJIVU TRIBE WAS HARMFUL TO OTHERS?"

"Yes, indeed." Magellan bows his head.

"INMATE RAIKO," focus comes back to me, "WHY DO YOU THINK YOU WERE SENTENCED TO THIS TRIAL?"

Uh oh. I'm gonna be the one who does it.

"I'm a murderer," I say, and I mean it. That's a fact I can never forget, even if I am seeking forgiveness. "Heh."

Magellan scowls as I chuckle and keep going:

"I'm a murderer," I say again, "and I'm no good for this world. Look, just let these fellas go and take me."

I step in front of Magellan while trying to earn my respect.

"I'm the one who should be punished, yo, so let's do it then."

"..."

Maxwell's not responding. If there's no right answer to these questions, then why should I lie anymore?

It's funny... shit's hilarious, honestly, and it's all because I know death's hoverin' moments away from me. This is how it was when I was growin' up, too, just not so in your face. Avva, I hope he takes my offer.

"INMATE RAIKO," he says, and his voice changes to kind of sound like an older guy's. It's real stern:

"YOU WILL NOT BE TAKEN IN ANYONE'S STEAD. DESPITE YOUR OPEN ADMISSION OF INIQUITY, THE TRIAL WILL PROCEED.

"THE THREE OF YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY PASSED THE INQUISITION. THEREFORE, I WILL OFFER YOU ONE LAST CHANCE AT FREEDOM; HOWEVER, IN ORDER TO GAIN THIS FREEDOM, YOU MUST FEEL PAIN.

"IF YOU ARE A PRISONER ON THE THIRD LEVEL, YOUR ACTIONS HAVE HARMED OTHERS IN THE PAST, AND SO IT IS NECESSARY THAT YOU BE MADE TO EXPERIENCE THE SAME PAIN YOUR VICTIMS EXPERIENCED.

"YOU MIGHT THINK THIS IS UNJUST OR THAT I AM CRUEL, BUT AN EVIL WILL BE MET WITH AN EVIL, AND THOSE WHO SURVIVE ARE FORTUNATE, FOR FORGIVENESS IS IRRELEVANT TO JUSTICE."

I hear the room doors slide open, and a sentinel, with black-painted armor and an assault rifle, creeps our way.

"INMATES, THIS IS THE SECOND AND LAST TRIAL. YOU ARE EXPECTED TO REPENT WITH COMBAT.

"GOOD LUCK."

A white line crosses the monitor and curves into a shallow "U" shape, like he's mockin' us.

"Ah, fuck no!" Magellan gets stiff, but he drags his chain to the left and strikes a strong stance. Avodeus and I are caught off guard seein' him respond so fast.

"Raiko!" he calls back, "Cover my ass if shit starts lookin' bad, all right!"

Before I can say anything, he lunges just as the sentinel raises its weapon, calculating and homing in on a clear shot—

Magellan spins in a rapid circle and twirls the iron bar above him at the same time; he steps toward the sentinel, and then he sends the hunk of iron crashing into the bot's head. It makes a loud "bang," and sparks fly alongside metal shards, but the sentinel only backs away.

The bot shoots before it even tries to stand, and bullets fly past Magellan while its fire jerks to the left. Magellan takes advantage:

He charges in, shortening his grip. Magellan steps to the side of the sentinel and swings the bar to strike its face again, but the bot's body moves in his direction just as its head rocks back and repositions itself. It crouches and hits Magellan square in the chest with its shoulder, knockin' him down. It pauses and then raises the rifle a second time...

My turn!

I'm already at a distance now and flankin' the sentinel's right side. Just as it gets ready to fire on Magellan, I swing my chained knife through the air and try to wrap it around the gun, but my throw's bad; the end of the blade smacks into the side of the rifle, then it recoils off—

Magellan recovers quick. He wrings the chain around the well and below the rifle's trigger. He keeps the bot from sending off any more shots, then he pulls, with an iron grip, to get the gun all to himself.

The sentinel steps back with too much ease. It brings Magellan with it and then rams the barrel into his head. Somehow, he manages to leap to the side before the bot can strike again, but he's fightin' a losing battle.

"Raiko..." Avodeus is next to me now. "I can help."

"Yeah?"

"You... remember m-my story?" I don't like the way he smiles when he stutters.

His eyes are wilder.

"I need blood."

I see dark veins reach at his pupils. They burst open to spill some liquid—it turns both eyes dark red.

I push Avodeus to the ground.

"Get away from me, motherfucka! I'll stomp yo ass!"

The sentinel tosses its rifle and charges at Magellan. It seems prepped to ram him with its shoulder again, and Magellan shouts out, almost freezin' in place, but he lurches forward and rushes ahead of the bot to lower his body to the ground. He grips his weapon with both arms, and it starts to shine with this light... it gives off heat before he gets ready for another attack.

This time, Magellan puts everything he has into it!

He pivots and moves his torso with the chain, sending a bigger bar flying dead center into the sentinel's chest. The bot stumbles back, onto its heels, and pauses again, giving Magellan the opportunity to strike:

Magellan gets within a decent distance, keeps his feet wide apart, and breathes in deep.

He grunts, then he hurls his piece through the air.

Disallowing the sentinel to move, Magellan starts in on a series of heavy hits to the soldier, aiming mostly for the head and strikin' true near every time. He uses his full strength, channeling that shit into his arms, back, and chest, and he swings with power I didn't think someone like him could be capable of.

Magellan smashes his metal bar against every exposed section of the bot, and he loses himself in it.

He yells out somethin' I don't understand as he continues to only dent the armor of our executioner. Then, Magellan rushes in and just past the sentinel so that he can pivot and drive his momentum into a hit that will push the bot off balance.

His bar collides with the sentinel's back, causing it to trip and fall to its knees.

Next to the sentinel, Magellan's weapon doesn't look the same anymore. The chain's this green, rusty color, and the metal's startin' to crack apart. His weapon melts against the ground, but mine stays intact for some reason. As I start to unravel the chain from the trigger well, the sentinel's gettin' to its fucking feet again!

Magellan loses his sense and confronts the thing directly. He lets loose a battle cry, then he punches the sentinel's head!

The bot doesn't even budge...

Magellan steps back slowly and stares at what's left of his hand.

It's mangled now. Bloody, broken. His jaw's wide open... I don't think it's hit him yet—

The sentinel launches one of its metal legs and kicks Magellan across the room; like its on cue, the bot moves its right hand to its waist and aims it outward.

The hand starts to separate into smaller pieces, and then a hole takes its place. The sentinel aims this hole up, and a long, slender sword comes slidin' out, glowin' hot with inner heat. It approaches Magellan, who finally surrenders this fight and heads toward the exit while movin' us along with him.

"C'mon now, it's imp—" Magellan stops in his tracks.

His eyes get wide, and I'm sure mine do, too, when I check to see what's keepin' him.

Avodeus is still behind us, but he's licking up some of Magellan's blood from the ground.

"AVODEUS!" Magellan calls to him, and I'm amazed he's still committed to what he's doin'.

He looks up, all startled and shit.

"Let's go, boy!" Magellan gestures for him to follow, and the three of us head back to what used to be the bridge.

The Third Level's changed again, and there's now a neon blue strip that leads to a platform with more sentinels. To the left and below, there's still another network of bridges of either blue or grey, and, to the far west, yo... there's a sign with green, digital letters which reads: SHIP DOCK.

Magellan spots it after I do, and then he reaches out for my knife. "Give it over now."

"What you thinkin' of doing, man? We're fuckin' trapped!"

Magellan slaps me hard enough to knock me down, then he takes my knife by force. With his unbroken hand, Magellan whirls the blade in the air; he throws it to catch and swing around an indigo pipe placed next to a system that's built below an overhead bridge.

He reaches out with his bleeding hand, and he does somethin' unreal:

Pressure starts to build up in that one arm, and it grows in front of both me and Avod. It enlarges itself until it's this giant bicep pulsin' behind his hand.

He reaches out to both of us.

"I didn't teach ya'll this one, but I picked it up from a stranger. An asshole, actually, but he taught me that strength is a path of its own—now hold on tight, bring that rifle, and we can kiss the Third Level goodbye, ya hear?"

"Right on," I say.

Avodeus nods his head, and he looks like he's calmed down since going fiendish over Magellan's blood. His eyes got this determined look, and his spirit matches ours.

We link our arms around him, and then Magellan jumps from the bridge, dodgin' the sentinel's next advance, and soaring toward the ship dock.

The wind rushes by, and we collapse onto another walkway without knowing it, collidin' with the ground and fallin' over each other as we land. I hit my knees and knock my damn head against the ground, then my vision goes out for a second.

Magellan grips my shoulder and urges Avod to get up before he leads us through a huge, octagon-shaped doorway. Before we can make much more progress, though, the same sentinel is already on us.

Two jets ignite from its feet as it glides down, and the bot lands to keep on with an aggressive march that's still directed at Magellan.

"Dammit!" Magellan kneels and traces from his forearm to the ground while diving into meditation.

I know there's not enough time, and I have nothing I can use! Magellan's still trying to create another piece, but... but—

A red glow surrounds Avodeus. He bares teeth that've turned to fangs in a wicked smile. He's still standing far from the bot, but he's marked his target with predator-like eyes. There's something changed about him now; his skin's healthier, not as pale as before, and he looks like he's grown from downin' just a little portion of blood like that.

Avod's grinnin' like a fiend, and he clenches one hand into a fist while staring down the sentinel.

At the same time, I fire on the bot before it can move toward him, and I shoot off three rounds—

My gun jams.

"Shit!"

The sentinel springs at me, waving its sword overhead, and now the blade's scorching red, coming down at me before I can back away.

I flinch and try to take a step to avoid it, but I feel the heat close in faster than I can escape!

There's an eardrum-piercing crash, yo, and the sentinel stops in front of me.

A drop of liquid forms around the end of the blade and falls onto my right hand, where my thumb and first finger meet. I feel the skin there get so hot that it feels cold before it's melted off and oozes a deep trail down my wrist.

I rush to get away, but I can't help but scream. The pain's so bad, and I'm clutching my hand, wantin' to cover it but too afraid of how it's gonna feel then.

When I take notice of what just saved my life, I forget the pain. Some shit's easy to describe but terrible to witness, if you know what I mean:

It's vile, man... like an eel. A grey, slimy eel that pokes out 'tween cracks in the metal floor. The thing's covered in a real nasty film that reeks of something dead, and there's these black spots—l-like old, crusted blood all around it that fall away while it tastes the air. It's a fuckin' tentacle, a tentacle that pierces the center of the sentinel and impales it in place!

...

For a moment—

The sentinel turns its head kinda slow, glitching a little, but it takes the time to analyze the freakish creature comin' out the ground. Get this, though:

The bot immediately understands what I do when I glance over at Avodeus.

Avod's shining brighter now, and he's clenching his teeth hard while moving both hands toward the sentinel. I realize that he's controlling it; the sentinel makes the same conclusion, and it changes its focus, movin' straight for Avod as the grey tentacle pushes back against it.

The bot doesn't skip a beat. It grabs the thing with its right hand and runs its sword through the middle of it!

It makes this sickening squelch, and then I hear Avod scream and see him fall to his knees. His skin turns ghostly white, and he starts shiverin', wrappin' his arms around his body while breathin' hard.

"You... evil monster," he says, and then he reaches for his heart at the exact same moment the bot pulls out the blade, causing the tentacle to plop to the ground.

The sentinel's eyes haven't shifted, and it continues toward Avod...

I'm still helpless. What do I do?

Avod's creation manages to come back to life. It slithers on the ground for a bit before this thing strikes again! It wraps around one of the sentinel's legs—

The sentinel turns, on reflex, and stomps on the body of the thing, forcin' his heel completely through and pushing out flesh as grey liquid gathers 'round it. Avod falls on his back. He makes this screechin' sound that's so bad to my ears that I wanna kill him myself.

The bot still aims to finish the job, but its sword arm suddenly relaxes and stops moving. It has to change the way it walks, and, suddenly, it's limpin'.

A square piece of shining steel the size of my head whisks by—

This piece slams into the sentinel, and it finally reacts:

It falls to one knee as the chunk thuds to the ground, and Magellan slowly closes in again.

"They done made these mothafuckas stronger than before...

"A few years back, sentinels were all buggy and unreliable and shit. But now, we gotta use everything to get this done, Raik! I just need one more—"

The sentinel takes the metal chain in both hands and looks directly at Magellan. It's learned from its mistakes.

"No—wait!"

The sentinel pulls with all its power, and Magellan gasps while bein' made to run toward it. Bot starts to extend another sword from its working arm, and—I see it coming!—it prepares to run him through the chest, and I start toward them to stop it!

Magellan does something to throw me off—

He speeds up, takin' advantage of the momentum, and he charges toward the sentinel before it gets fully prepared to react.

Magellan reels back his right arm, and I watch it expand, turnin' almost twice the size of his body. He takes another step, edges slightly to the side of the sentinel, and sends in a vicious hook!

He punches the bot in the face, and blood spurts from his hand while his knuckles crush the metal around them, smashing in the side of the bot's head and causing it to power down! The sentinel collapses like a fuckin' toy, a toy that almost took us all out.

Avod's on the ground. Magellan's done broke both hands and looks beat. I've got no ability that can compete. We gotta get through and find a ship, and all I can do is remind the others:

"Magellan! Let's keep movin'!"

"Tell that to your buddy!" Magellan nods to the little body of Avod, and I realize that I've gotta carry the dead weight.

I tuck my head under Avod's armpit and lift his body onto my shoulders, and then I'm following Magellan as the two of us sprint down a long, black hallway that seems to stretch on forever.

My knees start to hurt under the pressure, but stoppin' means gettin' caught from behind, and there's nothing I can do against those fools. If one sentinel took the three of us to finish it off, then this trial is beyond what any of us can handle alone.

Bright blue specks of light appear above and spread out into bigger particles that circle this endless hallway, always stayin' in front of us 'til the room changes. The walls start to form proper, and the hallway becomes a passage carved out of stone, and I think we're underground now, in what looks similar to the higher levels of the prison.

Everything below the Second Level is fake; sometimes you forget that it's just a building that hangs in the air, but it's a floating hell.

We come to a fogged clearing, and...

Dammit.

"Another one!" Magellan yells. "No—not again, t-this is a damn joke, I swear. Boy, where's that gun? Why aren't you firin' it?"

Another sentinel's been waitin' patiently for us this whole time. It's deep in the fog, standin' straight with its hands on its sword.

"Avod's heavy, man!"

My complaints don't matter to Magellan, who already takes the gun from me and starts fuckin' with it to fix the jam. The sentinel doesn't stall as long as we think. It makes clicking sounds as it starts to walk toward us. Avod's totally nonresponsive, and I've gotta put him down to help fight this thing... but it's impossible. Impossible.

The new sentinel gets to be only a few feet away, and Magellan unleashes a barrage of bullets.

"Get fucked!" he cries, and the sound of metal scraping against metal rings out as each bullet ricochets against the bot's armor. After about fifteen rounds, the magazine goes empty, and Magellan, feelin' flustered, throws the weapon to the ground. The sentinel's unphased and continues while moving its blade to the side and trackin' both our movements with its eyes.

"YO! Pick up Avod again!" Magellan yells at me. "We gotta run past him, boy—it's the only way through this!"

I nod and start for Avod's body again, but I feel a chill run deep down my spine. I shiver for a moment and feel colder than normal. Something's different. The chill's comin' from a source, and I turn in time to catch it...

Nezdia's arrived from a tunnel like ours, and she's running so fast that I begin to see what seems like images of her fade in closer and closer to the sentinel in front of us. For real, her image zooms—

She skates by us, drawing the attention of the sentinel, who responds like a human would.

It's so natural: the sentinel hefts its sword above its head, tryin' to get in a strike before Nezdia can act!

She reaches out, and, all the sudden, the temperature of the room changes, and somethin' dark but sorta blue-shinin' comes together in a cloud around her hand, and then it spreads over the shoulder of the sentinel. The stream of smoke she's left behind her dissolves, becoming black ice—

She tethers the sentinel's sword to its body, and its blade is kept back while it drops hot magma onto the bot. Nezdia's holdin' a shank made of the same black ice, and she thrusts it into the sentinel's torso.

The shank shatters, and her fist slams into metal, making her shriek. She screams and leaps back faster than any of us can see—even Magellan's awestruck, and he's standin' to the side as we both spot another sentinel closing in.

"She seems confident, boy." Magellan gives me a weird look, like he's tryin' to command me to lay low, but it feels wrong not doing anything to help.

And she makes that awful, ear-piercing scream again. This time, though, she changes her voice. Nezdia sounds like she's havin' an orgasm, I swear.

The bot with the sword breaks through the ice trappin' it and marches toward Nezdia. Both sentinels got a hard intent to kill on her, and it's like we don't exist anymore, and we don't know how long we'll last until the entire Prison army comes.

Nezdia screeches, then she flies forward:

She wraps her left hand around the sentinel swordsman's neck. Nezdia freezes the area below its head and causes the bot to stagger in place; she follows up by binding the sentinel to the ground then bending the bot's upper body over its backside as she dashes away.

A bullet pierces her stomach...

Nezdia all but keels over, but she stands upright real quick and tries to move past the sentinel's sights. It fires again, aiming ahead of her, and a whole series of bullets sink into her skin and seem to stop in place, with no exit wounds.

This time, Nezdia doesn't move. She wraps her arms around her stomach and doubles over, finally giving in to what I think has got to be a hell of a lot of pain.

"Poor girl..." Magellan mumbles while gathering himself. "We gotta move, boy, let's—"

Nezdia groans, and it's an off-putting kind. She screams gutturally, then it turns to a giddy laugh. Her eyes are blue-black now, and her smile glows with some foul-lookin' frost, yo.

"It... it feels so, so GOOD," she says once the bot's preparing to aim again.

"Please, hurt me again—hurt me the way you just did—PLEASE."

Smoke comes from her mouth, and the sentinel's actually stunned. It doesn't fire, and it remains as fascinated as us when small blue dots start lightin' up where she's been struck. Each one of 'em starts to climb from outta her body and stretches out in lines of dark ice before they freeze all around her stomach in a circle.

Nezdia's stare gets icy, and a bright light beams at the bot.

"I can stop your bullets before they get to my organs, but I let them stay just long enough to feel your love for me, your desire for me, your want for me...

"Inmate..." Her smile's like a demon's when she says this.

Nezdia tells us the truth about the bots:

"You were once a human, darling, but they made you into this poor, savage beast. Ah..."

Nezdia touches her lip and then shrugs. Her expression goes blank.

"Men shouldn't be made to be this boring. Darling, oh, boring darling...

"Die."

Bright icicles grow around each bullet, and then they all move at once:

Each shard strikes the sentinel, batterin' its shit in and scraping through metal. The bot gets its internal parts torn open, and I see what looks like a stomach, like guts, now all grey and linked with chrome cylinders. A brown liquid's leakin' out, and Nezdia darts in; she thrusts a new shank into its chest.

The bot tumbles over, and we soon see three more sentinels with guns headed toward us. Behind them, ten more appear, and I know there's greater numbers to follow.

They come like soldiers outta dim caves and don't seem bothered or reminded of what they used to be.

The inmates that get killed here don't get buried.

Nah. They're recycling us. Even if we don't pay our debts to society here, the Federation still uses our bodies as drones that invade other countries. They turn us all into machines in the end, and we're here to serve them.

Another type of cloud approaches Nezdia only, and this one's different from the one she makes. It's, like, a dusty, golden color, and it's movin' toward her like it has a will of its own. The thing shapes into a narrow stream, and it tries to surround Nezdia.

The other sentinels start to raise their rifles, and we all realize at once that this is the end of the Trial.
7

The Apprentice

\----

Raiko

\----

"NEZDIA, THE YOUNG QUEEN OF POGONIP, the prodigy who could freeze great beasts as a child and who created cozy shelters for her people when the weather got too real.

"Nezdia," an old man's voice says from the shadows, "one of the most beloved cats who represents Noboros. She's a rampant serial killer, a shawty who's taken down her fair share of men. She's always coming back for more, and she's a dangerous one, ya dig?"

Nezdia reaches out and turns the gold in the clouds around her to black columns of ice that fall and shatter once they hit the ground.

She scowls and whines back, "Not you again!

"You're that creepy old man—t-that's why you lured me here! You can't stop wanting me..."

Nezdia points at somebody I can't see, but he slowly starts to step out. I see the outline of a skinny body and what looks like this enormous afro 'top his head. He stops before Magellan, and then I can really see him.

He sighs.

"Now lady, I don't give a damn about you in that way, and I care far more about what you can do—you know, seein' as you went and got yourself locked up in the most inescapable place within the Citadel."

"What makes you think I won't keep going?" Nezdia smirks. "I might as well kill you all here. I love the taste of blood. It makes me so... just so—ugh, you wouldn't understand—that's why we can never be, Ayer Kei, darling."

"You're an unholy freak, but let's get down to the real, girl, 'cause ain't nobody givin' you any choice here."

The old man comes into view, and he's taller than I expected—he stands at a little over six feet—but he's skinny and sunk to the bone. I peep deep circles around bloodshot, yellow eyes, and he's got a long, grey and black beard that connects with his 'stache and comes down in a small strand. He's wearing purple robes 'round a thin body that's wrapped in a white cast. He's got a long, brown pipe in his right hand, and he blows golden smoke into a halo around his head.

I can feel a different kind of sensation here. It's not like Nezdia, it's worse but better in some ways. It's not so cold, but it feels heavy, like a wave of force is batterin' my body and keeping me from moving. This guy looks like a twig, like some crack fiend you'd find after years of blowin', but he gives me this anxiety that's tough to deal with; the room gets warm.

"You see, miss," he says, "there's a rumor going 'round that Noboros has declared war on our government—"

"Hah. That's not a rumor, old pervert."

"How many times I gotta say that I don't want your raggedy ass, huh?"

Nezdia turns cold. She looks ready to fight again, but the old man ignores her.

Before she can think of a comeback, the Warden appears next to the newcomer and looks right at her. Nezdia lets her guard down, knowin' she can't handle everybody at once.

"Men, as they have proven time and time again, are idiots who never evolve. Inmate," she looks at Magellan, "if only you would've stuck with me instead of tending to hopeless sheep..."

"Nezdia." the old man calls out, "Noboros will lose you if they do not cooperate."

"And they will continue to be Noboros, won't they?" she says.

"That is one outcome, but I'm willing to accommodate your situation, ya hear? I believe we can come to an agreement without putting the whole city in danger."

"There need not be any agreement, Grandmaster Kei. Noboros will tear the Citadel apart. Release me from this drab hell, and we will make you feel the injustice you've dealt a lady!"

"Then you will go to war with the Angelos Association, and legions of Death Officers will know your name!"

—His eyes start to shine—

"And we will destroy Noboros, for it is another group of dimwitted playas in a game we mastered a long time ago. If it's not me, Queen of the Pogonip, then it will be another, but no fool can ever shake the wrath of the Association. Do you think you can carry that, Nezdia?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't made to take it on my back." She winks, but the old man's focused. He really don't give a damn about how beautiful she is.

"You can choose death and ultimate destruction for your little crowd of mercenaries...

"Or, miss, you can take the offer I now propose to you:

"Nezdia, I want to give you the chance to join the Angelos Association, to become the fifth member of Noboros to lay claim to 'Death Officer,' and yours is a special case, indeed. As a Death Officer, my dear, you can expect to spend the rest of your life as a comfortable killer. You can have fame, money, and grow stronger with the Association, and I've selected you, alongside Raiko, as the perfect candidates."

"What?" Magellan glances at both of us. "You're gonna make a kid a Death Officer—are you serious?"

"Calm down, brotha."

He puts his hand out and looks down at Magellan with an air of authority. The Warden looks like nothin' compared to him now, but they both have our lives in their hands.

"After hearing about Raiko through the grapevine, I realized that someone with his background and potential only made sense when considering him for candidacy, you see. Raiko, come on over here."

I wasn't going to obey him, but I looked into his eyes, and that light moved something in me. I blinked, and I was right beside the skinny giant. The power of his presence was too much. I felt sick, and I could hardly keep myself upright.

"Raiko slipped through the system. The boy looked for support, and he found none...

"None, until his ass started representin' a pathetic group of bangers that the Citadel couldn't bother to keep in check until the Bureau had to get involved. Raiko's shown that he's got the utter gumption to keep up with the Core-Men, and I've decided that he may join the next class of aspiring Death Disciples.

"If you so wish, Nezdia, you may come with us and enjoy your new life—oh," he smiles behind gold teeth, "and you can still be a member of Noboros. Why not come to the right side, end your feud with the Citadel?"

Grandmaster Kei inhales deeply through his pipe and then creates a cloud of smoke that moves toward the figure of Avod. The golden smog gets solid around him, and Kei drags Avod closer to himself.

Nezdia ponders her options; she has a sane moment:

"Join... you? Work for the Federation?"

"No." he says back and laughs a little. "The Angelos Association is loyal to no one. We exist to serve the greater good, miss, can you dig it?"

"Greater good?" Nezdia raises her eyebrows. "Does that mean that I'll be given powerful men to chase after? I can drain the blood of god-like hunks?"

"Hmph," says Kei, not wantin' to elaborate, then she gets excited and screams as she rushes over to us.

The offer's too good for Nezdia not to accept.

The Grandmaster, at last, acknowledges Magellan and stares at him for a long time.

Magellan doesn't express any emotion. He's only got this empty look.

"Uh huh." Kei says.

Magellan nods, and he maintains eye contact with him for as long as he can...

He looks down.

"Uh huh."

The Grandmaster starts to turn, but I get my senses back for a moment.

I grab his arm and shout, "Wait!"

"No, boy!" Magellan says to me and widens his stance while searching around wildly. I don't know why he's so shook now, and it scares me more than the Grandmaster scares me.

"Boy," he says again, "there's some things you're gonna find out for yourself later on in life.

"For now, I need you to know a few facts about this world, some things I'm not okay to let you forget, and I need you to remember what I say here to you, Raik—I need you to listen good, now, and I need you to keep this close to your chest, all right?

"Raik, all the world's a fuckin' struggle, ya hear? Mothafuckas are all out here doin' the same things, and we all do what we was taught to do: get it how we live.

"There's a beauty in action, and there's a beauty to survival, but, Raik, survival on this Earth is some dark shit. When you in the tunnel, with a dull shank in your hand and tryna force that shit through a man's throat, God isn't standin' by to help you or him. When you go into an alley, there's no light that's gonna find you, and that's why I don't want you to forget.

"Listen," Magellan's breathin' faster now. "I don't want you forget that this world's hard, but you gotta find it in yourself to be harder, to cut strong and sharp."

A tear runs down his cheek.

"Now, I can't promise you that you'll be safe with just that—but listen, boy: it's better than goin' out scared, ya hear? It's better that lettin' them take you like a little bitch.

"Raik..." Magellan calls, and he brings his arm out to the side. Blood explodes from under his forearm, and an iron fist attached to a long chain falls to the ground at his feet.

"Don't ever let the enemy think they've won! If you've got to, let your anger keep carryin' you. You'd better not let me down, boy—YOU'D BETTER NOT EVER LET THEM WIN!"

Magellan spits and swings his metal fist through the air at the same instant every sentinel sets him within their sights. He reels back his arm—

A bullet soars through his chest.

Magellan tumbles over but doesn't let himself fall. He starts to shine, yo! A red light's around him, and he looks determined, but his weapon has already recoiled onto the ground. Before he can move again, Magellan takes another bullet to the thigh.

He cries out in rage and then charges in at the nearest sentinel. Magellan races forward like an animal, without any coordination, and he does everything he can to keep from limping—

His right leg gets blown out from under him. Magellan stumbles forward and into another round that strikes his head, killing him on the spot.

I try to run toward his body, but the Grandmaster's fast. He grabs my arm and flings me to the ground.

"Easy now."

He looks down at me, and it's in that very moment that I feel the same hatred I felt on that day. It's happening all over again, and someone's killed my only friend.

I lose control. I lunge toward Grandmaster Kei.

His body flashes before my sight, and I plunge toward the ground.

"Such sympathy is totally uncalled for." he says as I lie there.

"He was just a banger, after all, and of no use to anyone."

"T-that's not true!"

"True or not, brotha man, he was not selected the way the three of you were. Nezdia will be my Death Officer, Avod will be put through the Dar-Tech program, and you will, too."

"No." I stand up to face him.

"No?"

"I don't need to go through the program to keep up with an old bastard like you."

"But it's a revolutionary gig, my man, and it's somethin' that's never been done before!

"Don't ya see, there's two types of soldiers the Federation's looking to make: ones dead in the brain and the ones who'll lead the next generation.

"Dar-Tech's goal is to unite human bodies with the machines that we use every day. The bodies that get recycled here carry special memories, my brother, and these unconscious memories carry over into the afterlife, producing the sentries you see here, and they are some lifeless mothafuckers."

The Grandmaster points to Avod.

"He's still got life in him, and he'll be one of the first to use this technology to his advantage. This inmate's gonna be a real killa for real once D-Tech gets a hold of 'em. Half human, half machine... sound like a sweet deal?"

This really gets me. After suffering for all this time for what I did, I can't believe that this is what anyone would say to me. This is the fuckin' prize I get.

"You know..." I start before that old bastard can keep on.

I don't want to go out cryin', like Magellan, but I'll be damned if I can get his kind of courage.

"I think this is all bullshit, pops—I gotta let you know that I don't want NOTHIN' to do with this government, you hear?

"I'm not gonna play along with this and become a fuckin' guinea pig as punishment. I know what I did, old man, everyone knows I'm a fuckin' murderer, and makin' me into a machine's not gonna make people forget, and it's not gonna make me forget...

"That's why I'll show you I don't need it."

"Oh?"

He takes another puff and thinks to his decrepit self.

I finish, "You think I'm a punk—that I'm weak, but I'll show you that I can do it just like you, smoke and all. I'll pass you up in your own organization!"

"Don't make promises like that, brother...

"Oooh, this brings back some memories, you know."

I meet him dead on. This is my time, and I'm not gonna become some drone. I'mma get mine!

"It's on, old man. I'll be your Death Officer, but I won't let the Federation touch me."

"Ha."

He clenches his fists but relaxes them just as fast and then breathes out hard, "Very well—oh, and you won't be a D.O. right away, my man. After all, you still have to meet your teacher."

"Teacher?"
8

Premonition

\----

Janelle

\----

IN THAT TIME, and with her sister approaching her bleakest hour, I reached out to Tallah to show her a secret that I had been keeping.

"Tallah," I said to her, "there are many Spectrums of power unknown to your kind, and I wish to make you aware of one solely.

"As my Herald, you must understand the nature of Imago, that it is the mirror of all thought, all memory, all aspiration, and the psychic glass that reveals the Truth hidden in all dark corners.

"Come now, join with my Imago, and we'll witness madness in full bloom. I'll allow you to see as I see once again."
\-----

PART FIVE

Amour

\-----
1

[Voided]

\-----

Amour

\-----

MY HEART'S BEATING SUPER FAST TODAY! Oh god, I just want to stand up—i-if I could just stand up, get across this table, and gouge out his little fucking eyes.

We're getting the meeting's minutes with the doofus shit who runs Silo-I. He's the creator of the biggest social media network in the Citadel, Vitality Logger, which is also somewhat popular in two other aerial cities. It's powered by a cloud server that runs elegantly. It lets people meet each other inside of virtual worlds—but, apparently, they're worlds maintained by the scum of the Earth.

The owner and top shareholder, who calls himself "Si," keeps making me want to inspect his eyes. I don't know what it is, but they aren't real. Those black balls are fucking laughable prosthetics—either that, or his choice in prosthetic brands is horrific, and that says a lot about a man. No taste, yet he owns a Gerouchei blazer... Gerouchei.

I'm getting warm now—I mean, how can he wear such a mismatched color with that brown! He has no understanding of fashion, but he dares to be the head of Silo-I, and he's trying to force me into a cheap deal:

My art fused with his network for... nothing.

And he asks this of me while in a Gerouchei blazer. This is a blasphemous and offensive display that I must punish—b-but his smile's so pretty—so pretty, but it's not real, either. He shook my clammy hand earlier, and I took pride in my sweat; I let him know that I don't care about his hygiene OR his blazer—ha!

"Rather than offer you some measly sum, my friend," Shut up. SHUT UP! "the amount of shares I'm offering will do much to ensure that your work flourishes throughout the world! With your investment guaranteed, the works of Amour Bali will serve as unique, picturesque backgrounds to inspire conversation and entertainment across the network! Does that not agree with you?"

"It, uh...

"Si..." I smile and shake to keep from completely losing it at the office, like I did that one time.

"I'm going to shoot you in the face if you tell me that again.

"If you want my services, Si..." I swallow and try to be cheery. "You will transfer a payment into my account, and then we can get to work."

I scowl at him, and he shrinks back, reminding me that I'm still wearing a suit and sitting next to a major shareholder in my own company, Vince.

"No offer other than that will suit me," I tell him.

The room gets quiet, and both of them are eyeing me too much. It's making me angry. My hands become stiff, sweaty.

I could cut them both open, right here, and I feel like they know it—they know what I am. They're gonna catch me... I might have to kill everyone in the office today.

I'm so excited, I could just—

Si starts laughing.

My partner, Albico Vince, takes a deep breath, and, out from under great folds of fat skin, he tries to show a smile, but the folds get in the way, and it doesn't curb my bloodlust at all.

"Mr. Bali, you're always such a hoot!" the warm slab of whale blubber says.

Si scratches his head and smiles nervously, like he thinks it's a joke.

"Well, Mr. Bali, it seems that you're a man who holds firmly to his convictions." The fake man smiles at me, and I immediately understand that I will have to engage in violent behavior before I return home tonight.

Zola's having a book signing in the Blue Sector, so that leaves me some time to do what I want.

Si is still talking, but my mind is already on other things. I want to kill him right now, but I can't.

"I'm currently in a tight bind at the moment, sir, and so I apologize in advance for not providing direct payment—"

I get up and look down at my prey, then I let him escape.

"There's no need to apologize because this conversation is over."

I walk out without taking the whale with me, and—

\-----

It t-took over faster than I thought.

I'm getting reckless. I know because I can't remember as much this time. It was a swirl of lights, a lot of sprinting, screaming, red.

I don't know if I touched an animal or human, male or female; I just know that my hunger is satisfied. My stomach doesn't growl anymore. My right hand's hurting, my sleeve's been torn off, and there's dried red there, too.

I didn't even get to enjoy it.

My thirst grows every day. I can't wait anymore—I have to see this through to the end. For me. For Zola. For all the pain I've endured.

I'm back home somehow, and Thume's at my side, seeming almost natural, almost as believable as a real human. If Petrus isn't around, Thume acts as my escort, but he's a walking piece of art, and that's suspicious.

Petrus greets me at the bottom of the foyer in the main hall. He's adjusted now—no, wait... that's not it.

"Did you enjoy the hunt?" he says—no, It says.

The demon's taken him over entirely by this point. What's left of the politician is a husk, and his Zone is currently in the hands of dark spirit, which is very swell.

"I think... I think I was out having fun again, Zlnuratoi, but my mind's preoccupied with the final phase. We've almost won."

"I wouldn't speak of victory yet," the demon says through the body of Petrus, "you have a visitor."

"And you let him in?"

"He did not come through the usual way, and his demeanor suggests that he wishes to speak on peaceful terms. I sense his intent, and I see no reason as to why you should shun him."

"Oh," my heart's racing again, "we'll see about that."

I hurry past the stupid demon and up the stairs to the next floor, then I pass through the wide, white hallway that leads to my office:

It's a misshapen dome that hangs out from the side of my mansion's east tower, and I can just see the shadow of someone waiting for me.

The glass-paneled door to my office slides open, and I extend black claws from my hands once I step through.

"You realize that I have to punish you for what you've done, right? There's no coming back fr—"

I stop in my tracks upon witnessing the most unintimidating of individuals, but he's very well-dressed, in my opinion, and not overly dandy.

The intruder is wearing a silver button-up that also happens to be a Shamaousa brand shirt. His face is young, carefree, absent of any facial hair. His hair is a bright brown and parts in the middle, hanging down past both eyebrows, and he's wearing dark, horn-rimmed glasses. Though he's pretty thin, he looks healthy, easily mistakable for a University student.

I'd love to make him the subject of one my paintings. His despicable kind would make such a great specimen. Hmm...

He bows to me, and I'm so taken aback by the gesture that I drop my guard. Once he straightens, I notice that one of his eyes is a maroon color and the other a grimy green. We look at each other, and I feel... fear?

What the hell is he—t-this is worse than Zlnuratoi.

"Hello there, it's quite nice to meet you!"

"Uh... what?"

"You're Mr. Bali, correct?"

His tone's so jovial for someone who's just broken into my home.

"Yes. I am 'Mr. Bali.'"

"Hi," he says, "my name is Inen, and I've heard some interesting things about you."

"Like what? Who are you?"

I'll have to silence him soon.

"I just told you." He keeps smiling. "I'm Inen, the leader of Noboros."

Noboros? Here?

"I've been led to believe that you've been framing us. Is this true?"
\------

PART SIX

Brock

\------
1

Kalina

\------

Janelle

\------

"YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE US? Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?"

She said to him, "All you ever think about is yourself, Brock! How about letting me do something for me—for ONCE, huh?"

"You mean sleeping with other men and doing drugs up in strange apartments you have no business being in?"

Kalina snarled, "I should slap you—"

"Go ahead. That's what you like, right?"

"Excuse me?" She approached him, wild-eyed.

"That's right." He nodded confidently. "You hit me and then turn the tables on me, Kalina! You say I'm abusive, but I've never touched you!"

"You put fear in me. I fear for my life, Brock!"

Kalina slapped him.

He remained indifferent and continued with his reddened face, "Are you serious? I put your life in danger? How?"

"Fuck you, Brock. Quite frankly, I don't trust you around Lina anymore!"

She slapped him again.

"You're a pussy, a failed soldier who can't even do his job as a medic correctly. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be married to someone so ignorant? Do you, Brock?"

He let out a long sigh. "Listen..."

Brock calmed himself. "If this is what you want... I won't stop you—"

She punched him this time and stepped closer while screaming, "And you'd better not! You're absolutely pathetic!"

Brock stood his ground while struggling to control his burning anger.

Kalina shoved him before jabbing him in the mouth and yelling, "What's wrong? Why don't you hit me like you've always wanted to? You don't love me—admit it!"

"Kalina! Stop!"

"Asshole!"

She swung at him again and again, giving everything she had to provoke a man who'd suffered for most of his life.

"Hit me!" she screamed, clawing his chest aggressively.

His anger swelled...

Brock—

\------

Brock

\------

The weight's heavy. The veins in my arms start to feel like they're stripping themselves away, and I'm afraid my wrists might break here, with four hundred-and-fifty pounds hovering over my chest. It's just me at the weight bench, in a house full of assassins. I'm a veteran who doesn't belong, struggling to let the barbell drop any lower. I have to press it, but I have to do it without tearing anything. There's gotta be pain, but is this too much?

And that scene keeps replaying in my mind for some reason. It feels like someone from the outside's looking at it with me now. It makes me sweat more...

\------

"Hit me!" she screamed while clawing at my chest.

My anger started to swell...

I—

\------

No.

I can't think about that anymore. I dropped it too low—it's heavy...

I can't bring it back up. It's not safe, and I'm pushing for my life!

"Hit me!"

That's what she said.

It's too heavy, and it's all pushing down. My face is drenched, eyes burning, and the weight's still coming. My resistance means nothing.

An arm smaller than mine reaches over my head and grasps the bar.

The weight falls away, and the barbell flies up now, with the stranger still holding on, and—worst of all—it looks so easy to him.

He did it with one hand.

"Careful, dude! This is a lot for someone to lift, even for you, big guy."

What an annoying prick...

"I didn't need your help, Tavon."

I sit up and grab the white towel that fell off my lap and tumbled to the floor during the struggle. I wipe my face, and, somehow, it's like I can hear him shake his head in disapproval. As if he could disapprove of anything. He's a killer.

"You could've waited for me, you know?"

"I would have been a pile a dust by the time you set foot in the gym."

"This isn't a gym," he says to me. "It's a dojo."

I grunt.

"Like it fuckin' matters, Tavon. I come here to keep my body right, but you've been away hurting people the past few weeks."

"Doing my job, you mean? Like you did at that chemical plant? Yeah, I heard all about you trying to relive the glory days and save those people."

"Don't mock me." I stare him down, but he's so... so goddamn friendly. For a murderer, he's too likeable, and his methods are too childish.

"No one's mocking you, Brock. Easy, buddy."

Tavon puts his hand on my shoulder, but I shake him off, and he keeps trying to walk past, and now I'm angrier that he's not staying to improve with me!

"Where are you going?" I test him, "You know you'll only get smaller with all that running you do."

Tavon stops and chuckles.

"I'm not running this time."

"Yeah?" I step to him, and he turns around:

He's... happy?

There's something different about him. Tavon's face doesn't usually look so hopeful.

"Brock, the interview's soon," he tells me.

"What interview?"

I don't remember what he's talking about. "You changing careers all the sudden, T?"

"No." Tavon smirks. "I'm meeting the Grandmaster in a few days. I came here to train on my own.

"I-I'm going to be a Death Officer."

He says it, but I can't believe it's real. Tavon's serious.
2

Suffering

\------

Brock

\------

I GAVE IT ALL UP ONCE.

I was sitting in the rain and behind the building I used to live in before I—"we"—went bankrupt trying to live comfortably, and then she stopped trying.

She stopped trying, and everything got really bad. I kept getting angry. I'm afraid I've become the monster she always said I was. I don't know how a person's supposed to feel forgiveness because I've never been forgiven for anything.

And I was sitting, crappy, unforgiven, on a small, wet elevation in the ground. I had my revolver in one hand and probably my thirtieth beer in the other. This made sense to me because, when I thought for too long...

\------

"Hit me!" she screamed.

My anger got worse.

I-I couldn't do it. All that was in my mind was rage. I wanted to crush throats under my feet and ram skulls into concrete. I wanted to hurt something...

But I couldn't hurt her.

I couldn't hit her.

I couldn't even bring myself to yell at her.

I let her hit me again. She saw something in my eyes, and I think she remembered what I was from—what made me, and I think that's why she stopped.

Kalina backed down, but the Zone police were already on their way. She'd called them earlier, and, just like that, the damage was done. I'd lose my first real job after they found out, and I did. In Zone A, somebody has to go to jail if the police get called in on a domestic dispute. I already knew I wouldn't let her be the one to get put away.

And...

"Daddy? Is she close?"

Is it all my fault? Should I have done more?

"Daddy?"

\------

I couldn't listen to her voice in my head again. I hope that doesn't sound weak. I don't want to believe that I couldn't handle it, but... fuck, I couldn't.

I put the revolver to my head and dropped my beer. I had to do this fast before I heard her voice again. There was no more time or reas—

Someone punched my hand with enough force to send the revolver flying from my grip and sliding across the ground.

"Why would you do this?" he asked.

Rage took over. What I couldn't do to her I'd do to him. He had no right to stop me!

I turned and threw a wide hook with my right fist, but he was short enough to duck and come running under my arm. He uppercutted me in the stomach, and I didn't have time to react as I felt his fist push through my abdomen. He forced me to double over. I couldn't breathe, and I gasped helplessly for air—and there he was:

Tavon.

He'd put on some muscle, but I still recognized the boy I'd beat down in that match so many years before. He'd overpowered me without breaking a sweat! I couldn't move, but I wanted to get up and deck him so badly.

Tavon got in close and looked prepared to either kick or knee me if I tried anything. I remembered that he used to have some weird muscle trick, and I wasn't ready to play with it.

"Let me ask again," he said, "why would you do this?"

I fought back tears, then I scrunched up my face to keep myself from getting too emotional in front of the strongest enemy I'd ever faced. Although I was fighting it, I had to tell someone the truth:

"I was a shitty father."

"Says who? Do you really believe that?"

"I said it, didn't I?"

"I was a shitty son."

I didn't understand what he meant, and he acted before I could respond. Tavon reached out to me with one hand, which looked funny seein' as he was the smaller guy. I took it more out of curiosity than anything else.

He pulled me up with no problem.

"You smoke?"

"No."

"How about a drink?"

"Already had thirty."

"I'll join you for thirty-one. Then I'll smoke."

\------

"Daddy? Is she close? Did she call?"

"Y-yes, sweetheart. She just called a few moments ago—"

"How were you able to answer when you were still with me 'a few moments ago?'"

"Just trust daddy, sweetheart."

"Is she really coming this time? You don't have to lie. I don't want her to be sad anyways."

"Honey, I promise you that she's on her way. Just keep watching the door, sweetheart. Your mom and I love you more than anything. Keep looking out for mommy and stay with me, okay?"

"I promise I will."

"Alina?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"I love you. I'll always love you."
3

Torn

\------

Brock

\------

I LEAVE THE "DOJO," then I take the time to fry eggs, bits of broccoli, and bacon before mixing them with a hot bowl of quinoa and throwing in a protein shake after I've eaten that. I've been out of a decent job, and everything I did to help at the chemical plant means nothing to any prospective employers.

Being unemployed while relying on the kindness of a cold-blooded killer is a strange position to be in. The only way I can justify lying low like this is by focusing on what I used to care about:

Physical strength. The kind of strength I used to have before I was a dad trying to keep his family together. I train my body every day, relentlessly, because I want to surpass my roommate. I want to give him back what he gave me, punch him in the stomach, become the stronger man again. I'm coming into my prime, so this is my time to focus on me...

And Kalina was supposed to come again today.

She's been saying it more lately, but I never know when she's telling the truth. She's showed up in the past, at random times, but she always leaves after she gets what she wants. It's this way every time. She's never been the same person I married, not after things got too heavy for us.

But how can you leave the person you love stranded, huh? I could've stayed angry all this time, but I didn't.

Kalina is the only living reminder of what I used to have. Seeing her makes me think of a time when I was softer, and Alina was there, and Alina was my beautiful, brilliant girl. She favored her mother because she couldn't have the genes of somebody as ugly as me, and so, every time I see Kalina, I can just barely picture her. I wish it was easier to hold on to how things used to be.

The truth is that you can remember good moments, but you can never go back to them. What's lost to time is always lost to time, and all I can do to keep going is to remind myself of what was good. I need to forget how my past life ended.

I'm just Brock now. Not a husband, not a father, and not a soldier. With all this time, maybe I can get better.

Tallah's been helping me. It's funny, though; I've been helping her, too.

She was one of my first calls as a paramedic. I still think about the way I found her. She was left in a dumpster, and I couldn't leave her side after I'd helped bring her in.

I started seeing her every day. After all the talking we've done, Tallah knows more about me than anyone else...

\------

I'm at the door to Tallah's room, and I hear two voices on the other end. Weird. I didn't think Aaliyah was visiting today. I knock—

"Come in."

I step into a room of all white and light blue and see Tallah lying in bed by the window. It's still bright outside.

Huh? There's no one else in the room.

"Good afternoon, Brock." she says. "You look well."

Her smile's genuine. Her eyes are kind.

"Afternoon, and thank you, Miss Tallah."

"Don't call me that, Brock! You can call me 'T.'"

"Absolutely not."

I think about Tavon again, and then I'm a little heated that she caused me think about him.

"What name would you give me then?"

"How about just 'Tallah.'"

"Very well. 'Just Tallah' it is."

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you said."

"Don't start this right now."

"And you didn't bring anything this time."

I'd brought flowers, but I left them at the counter in front—

\------

I return with the flowers, and she frowns.

"Brock, you know I hate flowers."

"Wha-what?"

I didn't know she hated flowers.

She smiles anyways and says, "It's fine. It's the thought that counts. Come sit down, and why did you think to bring flowers? That's kind of a romantic gesture, isn't it?"

I realize that I've already obeyed her without thinking about it, and I'm sitting at her bedside. Tallah's a really beautiful woman, and it doesn't help my own anger issues when thinking about what was done to her. If I could find who did it, I'd kill them.

"Don't say that," she says.

This is the third time she's predicted what I'm thinking. Tallah's gifted in a way I don't get, but I honestly think it's because she's smarter than most people. Then again, I could be biased. I haven't had sex in almost a year.

"Really?"

I'm smarter than Tavon, but it turns out that isn't saying much.

"I wasn't thinking anything."

"Liar."

She grins.

"You always go through the same process every time you come; I love it. You're such a unique person, and you visit, bring flowers—"

"Don't think too much into it. I-I just worry about you."

"Because I'm a cripple?"

"Wh—no, Tallah."

"I'm kidding."

"That's not funny."

I wish she would stop playing with me.

"You always look so grim, Brock. Do you need another hug?"

The question warms my heart, but I don't want her to know that. My thoughts are my own.

"So then, Brock, why do you keep visiting?"

"Not all men are the same, Tallah."

"No one said that."

My Kom Cell beeps.

It's Kalina:

"I'm at your place. Are you home?"

I'm torn. Do I stay with Tallah or call Kalina to tell her that I'm coming? Kalina and I are still legally married...

"Brock? Is everything all right?"

"I... I think I have to go."

Something's compelling me to get back to her, like I always used to. During every training expedition, every mission, I stayed motivated by knowing that I had to return. I'm going back because some part of me still believes in us.

"I'm sorry, Tallah..."

\------

Tallah

\------

He leaves again. That's Brock's thing. Situations get too tense for him, and then he exits.

I'm not mad at him. Can't be. Poor man's been through so much already and on a spiritual level. I can only relate to him in a small way, but he's falling in love with me, and he doesn't know it yet.

She—I mean, Janelle, showed me how it turns out. I couldn't help myself.

Brock's a good man, and he comes so often now that I care about him. I know he tried to take his own life, and I'm doing everything I can to prevent that from reoccurring. Janelle's Imago will only be granted to me for a limited time, but I'm using this window to help others, just like Aaliyah does. If I can master zol, I'll regain full control of my body and use this second chance to be a real force for change. If I can be there for Brock, I can for damn sure protect Aaliyah.

I look into her current perspective:

No.

...

Brock left too soon—I-I need him now!

I call in a nurse and ask if she can retrieve him, but she just fucking lies—tells me he's not here! Aaliyah needs help, and I'm confined to this goddamned hospital bed.

And he's gone.

I'm alone, and I'm watching as Aaliyah struggles for her life. She's trapped, and there's none of her regular confidence in the way she looks.

If I don't do something—

"JANELLE!" I scream.

I scream Death's name throughout the hospital, sounding crazy, I'm certain. I yell her name like I know she'll come. I'll make her protect my sister!
\-------

PART SEVEN

Aaliyah

\-------
1

Harmony

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

I SMOKE THROUGH MY THIRD BLUNT, thinkin' about the world. People are still out there gettin' robbed, shanked, killed, and everything in between. If it's not going on under the Sun, it's alive in the night.

I think that maybe it's not all supposed to be this way. Maybe Avva the Saint is lying, and the Citadel's just a way for everyone to bide time until we pass. We're all cramped together in this city; it's no wonder it's made us crazy. What happened to Tallah is what really did it.

Ugh. How can Tavon constantly smoke this shit?

I fall asleep.

\-------

The next morning, I wake up, and I feel happy.

There's no one else in my apartment except for a sentry from the Dawn Knights posted outside my door. I stay close to the Monorail that allows people access to the Upper-City.

In other words, my part of town is away from anything resembling violence, which is why it was so surprising to hear that somebody could've been attacked here.

Before I turned in last night, I used DAIMYODOS to change the scenery in my bedroom. DAIMYODOS is a system that's become a part of newer housing models and is more commonly seen higher within the Upper-City. Using DAIMYODOS, I turned my room into a giant library, the furthest thing I could think of—other than a church—from a place an assassin would target.

The bed's in the center of a raised, rectangular platform that meets the cerulean-carpeted ground through small, stone steps. While I try to stand up and shake off how groggy I feel, a small, metal body, flying with a set of almost invisible wings, comes up with the roach left over from my blunt the night before.

I wave it away and call out:

"Eio, make me some coffee."

It drops the roach, and I sigh while resigning myself to pick up Eio's trash. This is the last day I've planned to take off, so I might as well enjoy it. Bureau agents aren't drug-tested for weed, but it makes me look bad as a detective, especially if I want to be promoted later on.

I walk past several rows of bookcases and close in on a smaller bookstand that's right before the door into the living and kitchen areas; the door itself is made of oak and marked with a white, spiraled etching which precedes a crescent moon. I grab a random book from the stand, and it glows, separating at once into smaller particles of data that fuse again and spread out in front of me as the rest of the room darkens.

AGENDA FOR TODAY (it reads):

\- Brunch with Zola

\-- Find a way to fake psych eval

\--- Practice at the range (if possible)

\---- Combat training

\----- Vitality Logger interview

\------ Movie night

\------- Sleep

I wave my hand at the screen: it promptly shrinks and transforms again into a plain book with a brown binding before falling back into place on the bookstand. My agenda's a little out of order, but I've tried to arrange my schedule in a way that's convenient.

The Bureau's demanded that I undergo psychological evaluation and treatment after the events of the past couple weeks—but the Federation needs its best people now more than ever.

Dulianna Moris on Duli's Weekly gave me all the advice I need on inner healing. I don't need someone analyzing me, and I don't need to dwell on what I can't do or where I've failed. I've got to focus on me, and that's what I'm doing today. As long as I can keep myself upright and take the time to unwind, I'm not getting an assessment.

When it comes to getting that assessment faked, however...

Eio brings me my usual cup.

"You used the wrong creamer, Eio."

"SORRY, MASTER! I CAN TAKE IT BA—"

I move past Eio and through the door, which vanishes on human contact and slides open into a blue-tinted room carpeted with a greyish white. My pet bug's already prepared and lit a candle, cinnamon-scented, and set it atop a wooden placemat on the coffee table before my TV.

The screen flickers on, and the local Zone news discusses Zone police having all public records accessible from their Kom Cells—

It switches from that to a new super food, itzima, being produced close to the Lower-City. The Citadel's got so many agriculture companies competing to produce the next big health fad in the cheapest possible way, but Geni Corp is tellin' everybody that itzima's enough to hit every major food group—

It cuts to Mani, Unidad, and Sal on the talk show, Must Have, and they go on about using Itzima for better skin.

"Eio, change it to 1."

As I sit down and try to enjoy the worst coffee I've had in a month, Eio goes to my favourite show:

Real Gunans of the Citadel.

Real Gunans of the Citadel is about this species of obese, giraffe-like creatures that were discovered a little over a decade ago, back when I was a kid and before Tallah was born.

In the World Below, Federation soldiers found a group of stranded gunan and herded them back so that society could grow obsessed with them. Over time, they became a cultural phenomenon.

They look the same as each other: rich giraffes with product lines, noncommittal boyfriends, stalkers, and questionable fashion sense, but the Citadel loves them.

"Sandra," Joea whines while sitting on a wide, jeweled recliner and sipping a martini, "you should totes consider dropping off that dirty muffin you call a boyfriend. Mandy told me that he wears Raspu'e—can you imagine yourself marrying a man like that? You know he only wants you for your beautiful neck, honey."

"Excuse me!" Sandra bellowed, and it was in this real manly, off-putting voice, "Mandy done said what about my man? Girl, he may wear whatever he damn well pleases—don't you speak on my relationship, and don't you be bringing drama into what I've got going on. I got a good thing, Joea! My family, my aura—m-my spirit just can't take that."

The scene cuts to a private interview with Sandra and the producers alone. She says to the camera, now babysitting another martini, "Joea just really knows how to get under a person's skin. She's conniving, and she's manipulative."

Sandra's reptilian eyes roll into the back of her head, and she sighs, "She's totally not 'in vibe,' you know? And I don't appreciate her bringing up what another woman's got to say—especially Mandy! That bitch... ugh.

"I just left behind my beef with her, and, psh, don't get me started." She pauses, and the scenes cuts to camera footage of Mandy and Sandra fighting at a restaurant after Sandra had just found out that her boyfriend was cheating on her with Mandy.

The scene transitions back to Sandra; she's cryin' now.

"I sacrificed so much for Don. I paid for his car, for his clothes, his face tattoo.

"I mean, goddamn, he don't work," her tone changes real quick, "he don't even do what he's s'posed to do as a man! He stay at his mamma's house tryna make video games and talks about being a fuckin' gangbanger. Well, I'm gonna turn things around and show him who the real gangbanger is—that's right, Ms. Sandra comin' to town!"

And, like that, the episode's over. It cuts to previews of the upcoming one, and a man's voice says:

"Catch the reunion with her boy, Don, next time on Real Gunans of the Citadel, where we keep up with the most elite gunan!

"Stay gunan, everybody."

I try to turn to the next channel—

A face flashes onto the screen. An image surrounded by black—

It disappears before I can really picture what it looked like. I start to worry, and my heart beats a little bit faster. Did I hallucinate?

Shit...

I take a deep breath and look up. I stay in the here and now, not like before.

Celebrity gossip plays out over the TV. My attention switches from the gunans to Mark Berglaw, the Hayashi actor who played in Apokalypterra; he says he'll renounce his citizenship and leave the Citadel for Alandra if President Derek goes out of office.

Celebrities love Derek. Rich people love him, too. After all the time I spent as a student in the Upper-City, I still can't say I've ever met him or have any real impression of my boss's boss.

I know people are pretty shook because the old empire is out. The Citadel's gonna be run by a party system, but the fat cats who outrank me think this is for the best. Everything in the Federation is about money these days, and, the more you have, the more of civilization you get to experience.

My experience of it, of course, comes with a price. Although the work's been hell at times, staying on as a government detective has brought with it a lifestyle change. I'm able to support both me and my sister, and I'll be able to keep supporting us when she gets home—that's what's important at this point.

Men show up as often as the Sun, but my sister will always be permanent family. Tavon's nothing to her in my eyes.

My Kom Cell plays a series of beeps that link back to my Vitality Log:

He got back to me!

I didn't think he would, especially with how old the records were, but I think I located him, and he's still active on social media. I access Vitality Logger, confirm that it's him, and, while he's still active, I type:

"Are you available for a virtual chat?"

His response:

"Is this on official or personal business?"

"Personal."

"In that case, I must decline. You see, I'm married and all and—"

I don't have time for this. I initiate the call for a virtual meeting:

In an instant, my Kom Cell extends up and latches around my face while scanning me at the same time. A menu pops up in the middle of a black display; it asks, "Do you wish to use an avatar?"

I respond with "No" and proceed into my waiting room of choice:

A small conference table within a wooden treehouse that's way above the rest of the world. I can look out from a glass window and wait. For some reason, I know he'll show.

He sends me another message:

"All right, girl, what's this all about?"

Before I can start typing on a holographic keyboard, my guest logs in.

He appears in the middle of a bright light, and his form begins in a crouch, then he stands so quickly that he bangs his head on the ceiling in the real world and staggers back while awkwardly holding up a ridiculously muscular body. Even his arms are growing arms, and he's dressed in a tank top and short shorts, as if he's trying to impress someone. This man's got long, blond hair and... wait...

His eyes aren't real. He just put some damn spotlights there for his eyes!

"You don't need an avatar. This is part of a serious investigation."

I say this even though I'm still wearing pajamas in reality. Thankfully, I have a preset template that makes me appear with a Bureau-approved suit anywhere I go in the virtual world.

"I thought you said this was 'personal?'" He scratches his head.

The false body goes up in a weak cloud of smoke, and the real user appears from underneath. He's old, like I expected, but he looks like he's been taking decent care of himself.

"Good Morning, Aloc Norlin."

"Tch. Girl, nobody calls me that—it's either 'Teach' or 'Sensei,' so come correct, all right?"

\-------

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, miss, but I gotta ask again," we both sigh at the same time before he does, "is this on official business?"

"NO. Why must I keep tellin' you that, huh?"

"Why would a Bureau agent contact somebody living in the Lower-City? Y-you actually care about us?"

"First of all, I'm not a Bureau agent at the moment."

Might as well give a little.

He raises his eyebrows and leans in, across the table.

"What's this now? Not an agent but dressed like a watchdog?"

"I'm on suspension, but I return tomorrow. I wanted to make sure I was still sharp enough to handle the casework. I'm not some bullshit government agent, Mr. Norlin."

I extend my hand:

"My name's Aaliyah, and I try to do things right." I nod at him, feelin' myself, and close my eyes with inner confidence.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "you and probably some other bitches, too, eh?"

I slap him so hard you hear it back in the real world.

"I'm sorry..." he looks sullen for a second, glances down at the ground, and then chuckles again.

"I'm just an old man, you know. I was boxer for some years. Took a little toll on the brain, see, so I act up sometimes, miss. I-I'm sorry."

My anger passes, and I realize that everything Tavon said about his mentor is correct.

"So why, Miss Aaliyah, did you feel it needful to talk to an old man?"

"Do you remember Tavon?"

"Tavon? Lady, that's one name out of a million! How the fu—hell you think I'mma remember a random name?"

"'Knockdown T,' sir. I believe you trained him."

"Let's see..."

He pauses to consider what I've said.

"Can't be who I'm thinkin' about—short dude? Did he really spar with me, or was he just sayin' he did?"

"Come on, Mr. Norlin! 'Knockdown T'—Tavon. He can make his damn arms and legs grow!"

"Nah." His whole expression changes. "What you're asking about, lady...

"I can't go there." He smiles and tries to placate me by putting out his hand to stop my line of questioning, like I'm digging too deep.

"I don't know what this shit is," Norlin stands up from the conference table and points at me, "but I'm not here to be snitchin' on what I might've or might've not seen with anybody havin' that name."

"Sir—"

"No, miss." He points at me a second time and steps closer.

"Now, I done had a lot o' boxers under my wing, and I've had my fair share of talented fellas, but Knockdown T was on some other level, and that boy, at least the boy I knew, miss, wasn't tryin' to let anybody into his life. He—"

"This isn't about him."

What I say stops his speech, thankfully. I think I just stole his thunder. Norlin backs away and looks at me like I slapped him again.

"W-well," he stutters, "then what is this all about? You really up in here, a suspended Bureau agent, wastin' an old man's time?"

"I don't want to know about Tavon, idiot, I want to know how he's able to do it!"

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

This time, I accuse him directly. I'm done with Norlin's shit:

"You know way more than what you're saying, and people are starting to figure it out, Norlin."

"What in hell? Miss, you done gone off the deep end—g-get away from me! Shoo!"

"That young man who went psycho and set his school on fire... I think what he did's related to what Tavon can do, and I've seen other people who aren't normal. Nah. They're better than what I'm capable of... but I need to learn how to do what they can."

He finally takes me seriously. Norlin addresses me with a frank tone, "Why, Aaliyah?"

"It should be obvious. Why else would I take time out of my vacation to meet with you?

"This is information I need to know in order to do my job, Mr. Norlin. If Tavon can destroy people by just boxin' them up, then I need to figure how to improve on my own so that I can keep people in this city safe from those like him."

"And you think the public's safety depends on you?"

He crosses his arms and grunts, "If everyone thought like you, then it wouldn't be so bad if they found out there was another step above what's natural—but there's plenty of fools in the Citadel who are nothing like you, and no one's willing to go out there and try to educate them."

"I'm sorry. I don't quite get it."

"That's 'cause this is some knowledge only known by the ones who've stuck around long enough to tell it, and we've seen how dangerous it can be to use this knowledge. Fortunately, miss, I've kept out of it, but there were some strange happenings going on in the Fourth Quadrant several years back.

"Tavon up and left my gym a long time ago, but I always thought the boy would catch his next wind somewhere else... I only wish he hadn't taken that kind of power with him."

"Norlin, if you don't provide me with more concrete info, I'm afraid I'll have to officially detain you.

"This gotta be some joke, girl. You told me all this time that this is just 'personal'—it's still 'personal,' right?"

I don't back down.

"It was personal, up until you made it clear you were withholding vital details needed to supply the Federation with necessary information!

"I demand you tell me where I can learn about these abilities for myself."

"Wait a minute," he says, "lady, you're still on suspension, aren't you?"

I've used the previous strategy a total of three times by now, and this is the only time it's failed.

"I give up." I sigh and lower my guard, preparing to leave the session after I get that he's not gonna give me anything good.

"Just like that?" he says while arching one eyebrow.

"Yup." I turn my back to him and scroll through the interface on my Cell.

"W-wait." he says. "All that, and you just, what, got tired or somethin'?"

"I'm not going to waste my time on someone who clearly doesn't know. I guess I'll just tell Tavon you don't remember him."

"WHAT?"

Before I know it, he's at my side and trying to put his hand on my shoulder.

I instinctively back away in time and turn to fully confront him—

"Tell me where I have to go."

"A-all right," he gasps, "you damn b—"

"Don't call me outta my name."

"Right, miss. Anywho...

"Major Kohaku is the guy I would've normally recommended. He was the Fourth Quadrant's Major when the Meiziki Clan went to war against the rest of the Citadel, and he's somehow managed to keep his title all this time; meanwhile, big time crime bosses have risen and passed under his reign—powerful, dangerous people.

"In fact, the Fourth Quadrant got too dangerous for any government official other than Kohaku, including the authorities themselves, to ever enter without catchin' heat. Because of this, the Fourth Quadrant is now cut off from trade with the Mid and Upper-Cities and is restricted from the rest of the world, but, throughout everything, Kohaku has stayed where he is.

"The Major himself has been around since President Derek's prime, and I'm almost certain those two were once friends—they used to appear in the media together. Anyone who's really in the know should be aware that the Citadel's President always had somethin' going on for him that set him above the rest.

"It just takes some logical thinking, miss—you catch my drift?"

"Yeah, I believe so. Derek, Tavon, that University mass murderer... they're all linked in some way, and Kohaku..."

"He's never lost his seat. Never been harmed by people with greater influence."

"I can get to Kohaku with my status as an agent."

"You don't want to go there." His gaze gets darker. "They'll kill anyone who isn't their own and cover it up."

"Then I can't let them keep doing that."

"Damn, crazy woman! You must really know Tavon to be that determined—and, speakin' of the devil, what's he up to these days? You his girlfriend? Tavon hooked up with somebody in the governm—"

"I'm not telling you what I know until you help me."

"So that's how this works now?"

"Uh huh." I nod.

"If you're really that fixed on meeting Kohaku, I'm afraid that you're gonna have to humble yourself, sister. If you wanna compete with the big players, then you'll have to learn what they've learned.

"You're not ready for Kohaku. I don't even gotta see the old bat to know he could probably whip my wrinkly ass. Naw...

"I might not know how to reach Major Kohaku in the way you want, but I know another kid who was just like Tavon and Kohaku."

"What was his name?"

"Went by 'Xonshu,' but he couldn't fit in with my group of boxers. He had some talent that I knew couldn't be brought into the ring without putting others in danger, so he was only my student for a few days.

"Kids tried to bully him one time. One time, miss.

"Xonshu offered up a serving of broken bones, which led to phone calls I had to make to a whole buncha parents, and... uh—

"Anyways, last I heard, Xonshu relocated his ass down in the new Zone H, the tunnel district that leads from the Mid-City to the Lower-City and, specifically, real close to the Fourth Quadrant. Too close. S'pose he went there to try and protect people 'cause Zone H doesn't have an Executive, just a building and traffic administrator, and it's poor as shit.

"Most minorities that the people in other Zones are hostile toward tend to congregate there, but I hear there's demons showin' up in the mix lately."

"'Xonshu,' huh?"

"Yeah. I know it's not much, miss, but I feel like you'd probably get more in the know of his whereabouts if you did some askin' around."

"Well, if that's all you can give me..."

I thank him and deactivate the session, which goes to a timer countdown starting from three.

Norlin takes two of those seconds to realize that I'm leaving, and he shouts: "Wait! What about Tavon? You never t—"

\-------

I'm on my way to breakfast with Zola.

I picked up a few new items for my wardrobe on sale the other day, and I'm looking through my closet for something specific. I use my Kom Cell to rotate everything I own, all lined up and hung on three metal racks, one above another. I stop its rotation at a black, slim-fit top with leather shoulder pads. The rest of it is thin but designed with thermal technology—meaning, I can press on of two buttons sewn at the waist and adjust the temperature of what I'm wearing. There's a third button which requires a passcode from my Cell, and, when I enter this code, the suit performs a self-washing function—'cept it's gotta be laid out somewhere where all the extra water can drain.

Honestly, it's something plain but bold over something that says I still care about my style:

I pick out leggings with animal stripes in lined patterns, most of these lines in shades of green, white, black, and gold, and I wrap my hair and put on an albeda: an old-fashioned cop's forage hat, but it's smaller, sleek, and completely flat at the top; it comes with polished leather around the brim. The rest of the albeda is dark, complementing a pair of running shoes I wear of the same color.

I'm always wearing running shoes because my life's so active, and it would bother me to wear anything restrictive on my feet. A lot of women's heels are nice, but heels won't help me much if I'm chasing a lead.

\-------

An automaton waiter hovers up to the table that Zola and I've chosen by the window, and he pours us both tea before taking our orders.

Wittgenstein's is an expensive spot that only serves breakfast. Most of the time, it closes way too early for me.

It's located in a huge glass tunnel, the Monorail, which leads from the Mid-City to the Upper-City's Blue Sector, but the restaurant was built partially on the outside of it and sort of hangs by itself, right over the wide clouds below us.

Zola loves this place; I think it's overrated.

"You haven't been to your psych eval yet? How do you think ignoring your mental health's going to help?"

"I feel like I can get past it. I don't gotta let the Federation tell me how I'm supposed to feel."

Zola gets close. Her eyes are so, so much older than mine. It's like they shine, but there's nothing in them.

"Why are you still avoiding something so simple, Aaliyah? I didn't take you for one who'd be afraid of a psychologist."

"I'm not afraid!"

I haven't even taken a sip yet. She's got me all riled up.

"I just don't think I should be forced to talk about something I don't want to talk about."

"Aaliyah..." All I see is a sympathetic smile on her face as she touches my arm. "You were taken hostage by some scary-ass people, and this wasn't very long after we lost Lorrie! Someone who's been through what you have is absolutely expected to undergo treatment."

"I don't get why."

"Because, Aaliyah!" Zola slams her hand on the table and doesn't sip; instead, she chugs half of her cup and presses her lips together. "That's too many burdens for somebody to carry, especially a Bureau agent."

Zola's technically a detective, too, but she's been tasked with record keeping and reviewing the reports we turn in. Office work keeps her from the field, but I think she prefers that.

I sigh, resting my head in the palm of my hand.

"It's not like talking about it's going to make it go away. Living here doesn't guarantee safety—it doesn't even guarantee happiness, but having to look back at what happened to those people...

"It makes me angry."

"Why?"

A robotic waiter's approaching with our food.

"I overanalyze the past, girl. I look back and think of all the things I could've done better."

"You feel guilty?"

"No. It's not that simple."

"It is. You need to get that evaluation done, Aaliyah."

The waiter sets my order in front of me: a cayenne-seasoned Gaspulan root that's been chopped then mixed with sautéed peppers, onions, and tomatoes and sprinkled over a grilled, synthetic chicken breast. The waiter dips his wooden ladle in a small, tin pot; he brings it out to drizzle this brownish sauce across what's called a "Gaspulan Measanna" in the Citadel.

Zola gets a salad, and this bitch eats it dry.

"Why do you look pissed off?"

"Where's your dressing, Zola? Stop playing around..."

She giggles, but it's too cute for me. Zola reminds me of my sister with how innocent she acts.

"It's part of my new diet!" she says. "I don't need all that sodium and sugar in what's supposed to be clean, natural food."

We're probably the exact same bodyweight, and she wants to tell me how to eat right.

"Girl, if you workin' your body the way you should be, every day, then you don't gotta worry about shit like that."

"See, that's some garbage he's been teachin' you, girl."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, hon, I seen you around with that raggedy fool. You've been acting different ever since you started fucking with him."

She's really trying to ruin a good breakfast. The root's supposed to give me natural energy—otherwise, I'd have to throw coffee in this bitch's face.

"You can't even speak on that. After all, Zola, I know you were the last one to be seen with the Lieutenant."

Her eyes change. They get real cold. Cruel.

"How am I supposed to know you weren't foolin' around with Shraeu? It's cool, girl, you ain't gotta tell me 'bout your business, but don't start in on mine if you can't share your own."

"Hmph." She's different. Not cute. Not innocent. "We were friends, Aaliyah. What happened?"

She looks down into her tea, which prompts me to remember everything that occurred prior to having been captured.

"To think that you'd joke like that—y-you'd just talk about someone's life so matter-of-factly. Aaliyah, no one knows where the Lieutenant is, the Bureau's in chaos, and you want to joke, to infer that I was having an affair with him behind my husband's back."

That cuts deep. I feel bad, but I also feel like I saw something I wasn't meant to. She's my friend, but I can't say I can read someone whose nature's always been unpredictable.

"I'm-I'm sorry, Zola," I touch her arm, "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."

"It's fine." She brushes it off.

At the same time, a third person joins us.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

A woman, half of her hair dyed white in contrast to its shorter, darker brown, and shaved side, comes to our table and peers at us over circular glasses that've slipped down the bridge of her nose. "Have the two of you already finished?"

I look down at my plate. I've barely begun, and Zola's reaction to what I said has kept me too distracted to focus on eating.

"Not at all!" Zola pipes up.

More than half of her plate's gone. Who's she playing?

"Have a seat next to me—Detective Aaliyah, this is Krenisha Farren!"

The two of us make eye contact:

She's a little bit older and has a small wart next to a dimple on her chin, and her face's powdered heavy but not heavy enough to hide what I think might be severe acne. She's short, a little chubby, and she's wearing a suit like mine, 'cept it's this really minimal green that's kind of cute, actually.

"Krenisha, this is Detective Aaliyah."

I shake her hand, offering the warmest smile. "Hi Krenisha, how are you?"

"I'm wonderful, and yourself?"

"My boss has decided that I'm sensitive, but, other than that, I'm doing well."

"Oh?" she inquires, "Do you work for the Bureau as well?"

I nod. "Yeah. Do you mind if I ask what you do—how you know Zola? I've never seen you at the Bureau before."

The waiter hovers over to us and waits on Krenisha.

She quickly exclaims, "I'm fine, thank you!" then it moves to halt between me and Zola, and the screen that makes up its head asks if we'll confirm her as a guest.

I touch the green "yes," and Krenisha starts:

"I'm no one special." she says.

I know I'm not crazy, but she makes this look at Zola, and the two of them communicate a private message I can't understand. I want to know.

"Everyone's valuable."

She smiles, but it's fake. Still, she seems like a good person.

"My job's probably the most boring one in the Citadel—you don't want to hear about it, detective."

"Just call me 'Aaliyah.'"

I'm real with her and hope for the same in return.

"It's in my nature to be curious."

"Girl, shut up." Zola glares at me, but then her lips curve into a smirk. "The two of us are hard at work on my case."

"What?"

Zola isn't typically in the field. It doesn't suit her; plus, the worst of the Citadel's too much for someone like her... but her leaving with the Lieutenant before his disappearance makes me suspect that she's keeping secrets.

"I do my own case work, too, Aaliyah. We don't all have the time to chase ugly, triflin' fellas."

"Who are you talking about?"

The waiter calculates our total, and Zola hurries to pay before I can do anything.

"Don't worry," she's got the nerve to say, "I'll take care of it."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"Krenisha," she narrows her eyelids and glances at her without moving her head, "Detective Aaliyah is on suspension after having experienced some awful trauma."

"Oh my, I apologize if I've been inconsiderate!"

"Zola!"

"I'm afraid the detective needs some time to think about everything—and so I try not to weigh her down with my problems."

"That's some bullshit and you know it."

The two of them stare at me while sharing the same expression: Pity. Forced pity.

Krenisha takes a deep breath and pretends to be congenial, "Aw, well, it was lovely meeting you, Aaliyah,"—she bows her head—"I have so much respect for what you do."

"I'm not a victim, Ms. Krenisha."

"Oh, I'm not saying that you are, de—"

"Shit happens out in the field." I look to Zola. "Shit office workers can't comprehend unless they've been through it."

"And sometimes people pretend to know those they never stood a chance of understanding." Zola smiles, and the two of us stare into each other's eyes.

We've started a game, and we both know it. I'll have to take a smarter approach if I want to find out what she's got going on. I'm almost certain she knows what happened to Shraeu.

\-------

I use my Kom Cell to order a ride that will take me into the Upper-City. A quiet operator sees us through the Monorail, and, once in the Blue Sector, I direct him to the Bureau Academy.

In the Citadel, the Bureau is the only institution that comes close to being on par with the Dawn Knights. Although they've got us beat on brawn and equipment, we excel in adaptive reasoning.

Basically, those who've made it through the Academy are all brilliant. Even if some of its students can be misguided and make stupid choices, every student that was selected for the Academy was selected for a reason.

I came up through a public school and entered the Virtual System at the end of what normal education used to be for everyone. All I had to do was pass a series of tests called the VISUMAS, a battery of exams that tell every test-taker what they'll be skilled at—but just because these tests say you're suited to a specific specialty doesn't mean that you're promised a career in that field.

Scores matter, and those with above-average scores are given a lot of attention.

Those with the highest... those are the people the Federation wants for itself. The choice for us always comes down to this: knight or agent. Everyone's pressured both ways, and everyone's gotta decide sooner or later.

The Bureau Academy is a blue dome that takes up at least a fifth of the Blue Sector, and its top is made of glass fused with metal; it reflects constellations that are said to show up solely in the Far East. Under all that glass, the school's divided into enough levels to bring the end of it to the lowest point within the Upper-City. At its highest section, you'll find the Department of Astronomy, which gets shared by both the Knights and the Bureau for classes in quantum physics.

The two floors below that belong to the Department of Psychology, which itself is split into two categories: Cognitive Psychology and Criminal Psychology—Criminal being under Cognitive and also happening to be the only place where I might stand a chance of bypassing my psychological eval.

And I'll have Professor Husashi to thank.

\-------

The floor of the Criminal Psychology department has no lighting that isn't positioned by the Professor himself. Husashi has always taught through experience rather than lecturing. His classroom is one big, creepy dungeon. It's a maze that he controls; he manipulates students after they've agreed to being incarcerated in one of his Isolation Cells, and everybody's gotta go through the same torture:

Literal isolation for fifty days.

I was fed on the first and the last day of that month, then he gave me regular meals. For my test, Professor Husashi used a voice created by a computer to taunt me while I stayed in that place. Not long after that, Husashi started sending dishes that ensured food poisoning nearly every time. He also created holograms of people who looked more and more real as time went on.

During torture which threatened to defeat any of my attempts to stay sane, the Professor gave a lecture on the history of what the Academy calls "deviant behavior."

When I'd passed through the torture phase, I felt like I'd had my last victory, and it could only be due to luck because of all the people who didn't make it. The Academy loses most of its student body after that phase, and those who pass are rumored to end up psychotic. I didn't come through that without some damage. Now, I get angry when I think that no student deserves—

He's standing right in front of me, hunched beneath the only light in a dark chamber. Husashi's still a bulky guy, but he's got more of a gut going on now, and his grey dress pants sag below his waistline. His belly presses against a brown, leather belt that I know is too tight, and one of the bottom buttons of his tucked shirts is about to snap off from being trapped beneath it.

Another weird quality about the Professor is that he always wears a pair of dark, circular sunglasses, even when he's indoors. His hair's kind of messy, because he never combs, but at least it's clean-looking. He turns his chubby face to acknowledge me.

I already know that he can help me pull this off.

\-------

"I can't help you."

"Huh?"

He winks. "You heard me."

Husashi turns around, and—would you believe it—this mothafucka is reading a book. In the dark. The overhead light's just for visitors like me.

I can hear thunder as well as the wind raging outside, though the weather was totally fine a few minutes ago.

I drop my arms to my sides, then I plead with him:

"Why not, Professor? You remember me, right? It's Aaliyah, your best student!"

"Oh yes," he responds but won't look at me. "The students with the most potential live on in my mind...

"But I won't say if that includes you, Mrs. Aaliyah."

"Ms. Aaliyah, Professor. I'm not claimin' anyone currently."

Professor Husashi adjusts his glasses, sighs, and rotates to face me faster than I expect.

"You were taken captive by Noboros, correct?"

"Y-yes. How do you know about that?"

"Really?" He looks at me like I'm stupid. "You think it wasn't broadcasted in some way or another? There are quite a lot of news outlets within the Citadel."

"Uh—"

Husashi snaps, and his eyes seem so big compared to mine, "You think the whole Citadel simply overlooked the deaths of several government officials?

"You think that that man—no, that creature, wasn't immediately identified as a major terrorist? Although you are a part of the Bureau, Ms. Aaliyah, you believe that the Bureau itself isn't fascinated with the ability to manipulate on a grand scale? That is, Ms. Aaliyah, the potential to control dozens to thousands, to force others to do as you please, and, in this case, compel professionals in the Federation to commit suicide."

"I... I know that it was all over the news, but I didn't think the media told people that."

"It didn't."

A mischievous grin creeps across his face. Husashi's constantly playing games.

"You know, better than I, that no one would believe such nonsense. The people of the Citadel prefer this kind of slavery to the next, which is the suffering and dread endured by those who don't have a city to hide in. Above everything else, those operating at the highest level of government realize that admitting that they can't prevent every disaster would probably lead to riots, and now is the worst possible time for any manner of riot."

"That's why I need to get back to work, Professor! The Bureau requires a full psychological examination, but my boss never specified from where or from whom, exactly."

"So, you intend to fool your boss by handing him a piece of paper stating that you're sane from an old, shady professor who's not so sane himself?"

"Uh... yes."

"I duly apologize for asking again, Ms. Aaliyah, but you were taken captive by Noboros? You were in that building, correct?"

"Yes, Professor. We faced them, and we stood a chance—I know it."

"'We?'"

I stutter for a second, realizing that I shouldn't tell him too much. "I-I mean 'myself,' but yeah, they weren't so threatening."

This pisses him off.

Husashi drops his book, letting it hit the ground, then he clenches his fists and moves his head in closer to glare at me.

I reach for my taser instinctively, but there's something he knows that's more important than anything else, and he raises his voice for the first time:

"If Noboros so desired, that clan of forsaken criminals could become the very bane which would put an end to the Dawn Federation, to everything that humans and Hayashi alike had to fight for."

"When I'd met them for the first time, I thought there were only two or three. Surely a couple gangbangers couldn't do real damage to the Citadel?"

"There's twenty of them."

I'm not sure if I heard that right.

"Twenty?" I ask him.

Husashi doesn't change his expression. "Twenty, indeed.

"The thugs of Noboros have discovered a way of making a living for themselves. They've evolved so that they may divide into smaller numbers which exploit tragic events across the world in their favor. Ms. Aaliyah, it's important that you understand that our society is rapidly approaching what is either the end or a new, terrible beginning."

I put my hands on my hips and exhale. Husashi's full of shit.

"What makes you say that?"

"What makes you doubt it? You haven't visited the Bureau since your suspension, have you?"

"How do you know I was suspended?"

"Ha." Husashi slaps his palm against his forehead. "Why would you be here if this wasn't the case?"

"Good point."

He shakes his head but continues smiling at me before he slowly becomes solemn again.

"Of the major weapons within the Federation's possession, the most notable are the sentinels, the Dawn Knights, heavy weapon systems, armed aircraft, and skillful bureau agents like yourself.

"The Federation is, at once, one of the most brilliant and effective human constructions to stand against the rest of the world for decades...

"But I'm afraid that those above you, Ms. Aaliyah, have been given over to great foolishness."

"Please explain more, Professor."

"I need not." is his comeback. "The Federation is at war with Gaspulan rebels and, simultaneously, has attracted the attention of Alandra, another superpower like our own. While Alandra and the Federation have remained quiet rivals since Alandra's inception, most battles between our two countries have happened through proxy—through mercenaries. Mercenaries like Noboros.

"Whenever we take a city or gain the support of more Gaspulan nationals, Alandra suffers a loss. Whenever Alandra acquires more sympathizers from the same country and promises Gaspul independence, the Federation suffers a loss. It's a petty cycle, but it's caused both nations to grow without risking the consequences of true war."

"I see, but don't both countries hate gangs like Noboros?"

"I'm afraid that the best outcome for the Federation is the total destruction of Noboros, and my reasoning is this:

"There is another enemy which continues to gain support despite the Federation's current occupation of key cities within Gaspul. This enemy is the same that's endured our constant invasions after all these years and has decided to just recently acquire a backbone."

"The radicals in Gaspul—the ones who follow that god! What's its name?"

"They're the followers of Gozadalus, Ms. Aaliyah, and they're, perhaps, just as dangerous—if not more—than all twenty members of Noboros combined.

"You know by now that some humans are capable of extraordinary talents, but most aren't aware of this. Although they trust in the sentinels and the Federation authorities, they have no idea that we've become caught between foes, that the only way we stand a chance of getting through the next conflict is by choosing the right enemy and at the right moment."

"How do I go about doing that?"

"You?" he smirks and looks me over. "Just you?"

"Yeah." I straighten my posture. "If no one else is willing, then it's my job as an agent."

"A 'suspended' agent?"

"I don't have to be." I wink at him. "If you're really that worried about us being 'caught,' then you need someone like me now more than ever, right?"

"Ehh... I—"

"Professor Husashi," I bow to show him that my commitment can't be shook, "if you clear me on my eval, I'll make sure to refocus the Bureau's primary objectives, and, if they won't comply, then I'll do it all myself—you just have to give me a suggestion on where I should start."

"My, my, what determination..." he scratches his chin, inclined to hear me for real.

"My Lieutenant just went missing and got changed out by a bozo, and I'm sure that bozo's gonna try to trash my whole career, but I'd be mad at myself if I missed out on an opportunity like this. Professor, I must know more—more about Noboros, about Gozadalus, and about what I have to do to set them back."

"Ah," he breathes in while adjusting his glasses, "I see Criminal Psychology has taken its toll on you, eh?"

"No." I don't break eye contact. "I'm just tired of being so many steps behind."

"You want me to falsify your profile AND help you catch up?"

"Yep."

"Tch. Youthfulness coincides with idiocy. Fine. I'll tell you this:

"The Department of Criminal Psychology is going to change, like it always does. Its curriculum will shift to match the next director, and I will retire within a week."

I can't believe it. "You're retir—"

He brings his finger to his lips to shush me.

"Now, Ms. Aaliyah, retirement is not the same as defeat. Not at all, in fact.

"As it happens, I've been selected by the Department to become a permanent resident of Zone H, which currently has no authoritative leadership and is being ignored by the media. Intentionally."

"Why wouldn't they pay attention to Zone H? The rate of crime there is looking higher than any other Zone every day. That sounds like perfect material."

"It might be, but what no one has told you—or the victims, for that matter—is that Zone H is experiencing a phenomenon that outsiders to the district cannot know about. Moreover, the majority of Zone H dwellers themselves aren't exactly aware, and so it has become a delicate situation.

"There is a very interesting breed of demon wandering about Zone H, and the Bureau has asked me to examine its origin."

"There are demons in the Zones now?"

"Not quite."

He holds the same finger higher in the air, regressing back to teacher mode:

"The Lower-City has grown as unstable as the rest of the world outside of the Citadel, and, as you should know, the Fourth Quadrant has been sequestered off as a restricted area—most government authorities aren't permitted entry, and Zone H exists as a main hub between the Mid-City and the Lower-City. Zone H has flourished, to the Federation's surprise, while also gaining residents from adjacent Zones. It is because of this that Zone H is perfect grounds for research on what caused the shutdown of the Fourth Quadrant.

"President Derek may tell you that the Federation is better off than it ever has been—and this is true, partly—but what's truer is that something sinister is waiting below our society. Waiting, reflecting, planning. Though it might sound absurd, Ms. Aaliyah, I personally believe that there is one more threat of which we should be wary. If the Federation refuses to recognize it, then that means it's up to us to prevent what could be a catastrophe."

"Hmph." I cross my arms over my chest.

"What?" he groans.

"You know what."

"Hmph," he utters again, and we both know what I'm thinking.

Professor Husashi sighs before he says, "Does it need to be handwritten?"

"Send it via email. Let me pull up Lieutenant Kaust's Fi-O address for you."

\-------

Zone D's gotten worse since my last visit.

After the Kijivu Tribe's leadership was dealt a harsh blow, weaker crews started to tear at them. It's been real beneficial to the Zone police, who've been making easy busts on the Tribe's remnants, and, without the Tribe's influence, Zone D's looking more and more like a battleground.

And so I'm here, in one of the abandoned netite tunnels that used to connect D and the Second Quadrant prior to running through to Zone B and then cycling back in a loop.

In the times when cruisers weren't automated, the Federation built these tunnels for citizens to get around. Each one used to link to another in some way, but that made travel hard on people. Tryin' to get anywhere was a chore because the tunnels were built right at the beginning, back when the Upper-City was just one big palace for the President, and everybody else was clustered below.

Zone D's tunnel is formed from netite plates shaped like big octagons that shine within a deep purple. Power runs through this place in a current; these tunnels help keep the Mid-City Zones from shorting out—they're like backup generators, and their ceilings channel so much power that they're capable of electrocuting any living thing that touches them. Silver, metal plating separates each tunnel into a top and bottom half, and the bottom itself is lined with a dirty, red carpet. People used to set up vendor stands at specific spots along some of the tunnels which also contained power stations, and people say that cruisers would zoom through these places at the speed of light, with cameras watching from every angle. Police cruisers had established permanent routes that were intended to keep the daily traffic balanced. But, once the Federation got cozier with using robots, the tunnels were abandoned.

It's saved them a lot of money, far as I know, and they only use a set few cameras to make sure nobody's tampering with the cords embedded in the ceilings. The Federation removed some of the tunnels from B and D, but the remaining ones are usually occupied by the homeless. There are even some sections that demand labor or payment in exchange for a place to stay; these areas typically get overrun by bangers, and, every now and then, they send an agent or Knight in to shut it down if they get too greedy with territory—

But that's exactly how I ended up meeting the local Zone D militia:

Dom Secundus. The secret army.

They're how I got a hold of the side arm I'm using while in the prone and staring down the black tunnel, with nothing yet in my sights.

There's a glimmer. It takes form, and—

\-------

"I'm a cold closer,

"Not a mock poser.

"Steeled wit' the gaze,

"I'm switchin' it up, cleanin' my glock, makin' your sister love me when I'm off the clock.

"I'm the mack deliverer,

"Named the poet, droppin' rhymes for sure.

"Three eyes, two horns,

"Demon's bane, call me 'butcher.'"

"Yo, L, that's nice!"

"Yeah... well, get this:

"I'm the smoothest dealer,

"With the past of the worst killer,

"Seven angels follow me,

"I'm the rawest heal—"

My pistol erupts when I shoot, and its sights break down. They change into a camera, then I try to direct what's called an Auto-Bullet by moving my gun.

You've gotta be fast to use it correctly, but the Ravagen-05 fires rounds which travel as far as three thousand meters; each one comes with a camera that links back to the gun and shows the user its trajectory.

Within the far reaches of the tunnel, a blue hologram, that's a featureless male made of lighter blue lattices, charges toward me and then changes direction as a short, digital wall appears a few feet in front of it. The hologram leaps behind it for cover, and then my Auto-Bullet soars just over his head to sink into the carpet.

"Damn, girl!" L shouts from one of the traveling tents used by Dom Secundus. "Done fucked up my rhythm!"

I curse under my breath, careful not to lose my cool in front of another member, and then I sprint out toward cover that's generated closer to my target—

But it's too late. I see the holo-soldier start to rise and aim its rifle at the blue vest that acts as my simulated armor. If I catch one, I lose, and I've played this gig too many times to mess it up again.

I pull the trigger, hurling my body toward the ground next to the nearest barrier.

I jerk my arm to the right while keeping my eyes fixed to the screen, then I hit the carpet and land on my shoulder; the Auto-Bullet almost passes its target, I twitch my firing hand, and it flits to the left, striking the holo-soldier's neck! The hologram implodes, then it fades into nothing...

Something bright shows up behind me, and I move to face another type of holo-soldier.

It beams in, just a couple feet away, and holds a large bowie knife backwards in its right hand. The hologram lunges at me, and I stagger back as it cuts through the air and then charges low. It stabs up, trying to shank me through the stomach! I raise my knee just in time to push its arm to the side with my thigh before I keep going:

I kick the holo-soldier's head using the same leg.

This one doesn't go out like the last.

A clone of its knife appears in its other hand. It flips both blades so that they're facing my direction.

The holo-soldier prepares to rush me for a second time, and I think back to everything that Rashumi's taught me. I recall Freedom of Thought, Freedom of Nonthought, and Fluidity. Then, I attack:

Flattened palms, iron forearms, inward strike.

I push its arms out and punch its head with both hands—

Iron temple, focused aggression, eyes on vulnerability.

Knee right below the sternum—

I grab the left wrist, I pull the target toward me, I jab its side, then I take the holo-soldier's knife and stab and stab away. I hear another soldier beam in from my right—no, there's two! I turn; I fire.

I don't have to control it because it's a straight shot:

My Auto-Bullet strikes one in the chest, and—

"Daaaaaamn, lady!"

A voice?

"You rockin' 'em!"

A holographic knife plunges into my ribs, and my vest is shredded into nothing as it goes out with an electronic beep. The simulation's over, and it's that stupid kid's fault.

"Daaaaaaaaaaam—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

I drop my gun and step to L, but he's already moving back once he realizes that the ass-whoopin' is on its way.

"Ay—AY!"

He throws up his hands in surrender, though that won't stop me.

"I didn't mean anything by it, lady—I-I was finna come up with some raw lyrics, shawty! Ay—Rashumi! Rashumi!"

"Boy, Rashumi is not gonna save you. I was about to win!"

I backhand his arm. I start swattin' until he backs his butt all the way up into Rashumi himself.

"Oh shit—" L stops short against the leader of Dom Secundus, and he winces when his head bangs against Rashumi's stomach.

Rashumi is one of the Hayashi, and he looks much different than any of us involved with his organization. There's only one other Hayashi operative within Secundus: Sokumido, who also happens to be related to him.

Rashumi conceals his skin with a plain, black hoodie, but his face is composed in a way that's still a far cry from an ordinary human's. For one, there are only slits for his nose, and the nose area itself—down to his lips—is white bone atop celadon skin that's mixed with patches of pale blue. Underneath that hoodie, Rashumi's skin is cracked all over; it's rough, and the bone beneath it feels like metal.

Most of the Hayashi are above six feet, but he easily stands at seven, making his eyes appear smaller and like sapphire gems that look... kinder than a typical human's.

Rashumi's long fingers fall across L's head, and the teen lurches forward out of fear more than anything else. Rashumi smirks, letting two white fangs protrude from his lower jaw.

"Shit! Don't scare me like that, boss!"

L can't control his breathing, and he glances back at me nervously, caught between heaven and earth. Rashumi looks like he's ready to help me out.

"Detective Aaliyah-zalam," he straightens his right hand and places it over his heart.

I return the gesture. "Rashumi-zelem, have you come to assist?"

He puts his hands up, stepping away from L, and L sticks his tongue out at me.

"Lady thinks she's hot shit just 'cause she knows how to use a gun!" L points at me while at Rashumi's side. "Don't you know that it doesn't matter? Out here, when things get bad, there's no tellin' what can happen to you—doesn't matter if you can shoot or not."

Rashumi steps between the two of us. He's got more patience for the punk's behavior.

"There's no reason we can't resolve this dispute peacefully—after all, Aaliyah-zalam, I'm sure your business here is more important than a petty dispute with a child."

"Y-yeah! Oh... wait. Hey!"

"Calm down, you." Rashumi glares at him once, and that's all it takes. A hit from him would put the boy in the hospital.

Rashumi moves closer to L so that he can look down at him. "First, you have the nerve to continue selling drugs while under my care, even though this is the only place where someone will put up with your childishness; second," Rashumi tilts his head to the side, "you insult a member of the government, who is here on our behalf!"

He holds up one finger then scolds him further, "Detective Aaliyah-zalam's support has done so much for our cause."

"And yet people still gettin' shot up in Zone D, boss." L's expression changes. He's been holding back. "Just yesterday, we missed bein' able to stop two mass shootings—two. You know how many people died in all that?"

"What?" I haven't heard about this. Each Zone is like its own world sometimes, and it's easy to get lost in everything that goes on across the Citadel.

Rashumi addresses me; he says, "Thirty-eight."

"That's... that's awful."

He nods. "Zone D's lost whatever real police presence it had left. The chaos caused by the lower gangs has made it unsafe to travel outside of the wealthiest district, as I'm afraid violence is spilling over into suburban areas, Aaliyah-zalam, and Dom Secundus needs recruits now more than ever."

"Damn right." L chimes in, and we both sigh in response.

"You came to train again?" Rashumi ignores L and turns to me.

"Yeah."

"You've been here every day, an agent of the Citadel... how interesting."

"Can we get on with it?"

"So eager, Aaliyah-zalam. Were you able to pass Level Alpha?"

"Mhm."

"What? She lyin'!"

Rashumi prepares to backhand L, but the boy keeps on anyways:

"I ain't seen nobody from Secundus pass Level Alpha—s-she just lost on the easiest Level!"

"That's because you distracted me!"

"With these dope rhymes, shawty."

"That's enough, L!"

\-------

Dom Secundus was founded by Rashumi, and its leadership is made up of six primary people:

There's Rashumi, the one who managed to convince a gathering of twenty-five people to follow him and live like nomads in the tunnels. He claims he applied to be a regular Zone officer, but the Federation requires those of Hayashi descent to give documentation dating all the way back to their dates of birth. Rashumi's not a Citadel native; he came from Xin'Zhuin, a city that's thousands of miles east of the Citadel.

Louistan, an actual Zone police officer who, like me, has gone a little rogue to get extra knowledge that's helpful in the field—at least, that's the way I put it. He doesn't have any immediate family, and all I know is that he goes back and forth from work to regular patrols with members of the militia. He's got this thousand-yard stare, as if he can't ever let his guard down, and it's obvious because his voice shakes when he speaks.

Lanistan, Louistan's father and a retired Zone officer who only joined out of concern for his son. The longer he stayed, the more dedicated he became to the cause, and now he's a mechanic for Secundus.

Kay, a former member of the Kijivu Tribe. The police are presently on the lookout for Kay, but Rashumi's been harboring her in the meantime. I can't determine the nature of their relationship, but he's hellbent on keeping her with the crew.

Shikami, someone I've yet to meet. For all the reverence Rashumi pays him, it's a wonder that he hasn't been back to Zone D in months. Rashumi says he's over in Zone E, bold enough to try to lead his own operation against violent crimes.

And then there's Sokumido, who joined Dom Secundus a week ago. He's a cousin of Rashumi and from the Lower-City, yet he still hesitates when it comes to his commitment. Rashumi wants to make a stand for peace; he wants better rights and recognition for the Hayashi, but Sokumido isn't a fighter. He doesn't contribute and sits back while everyone else improves.

For the past year, I've used Rashumi as my training partner. Today's no different, even if I am on vacation.

\-------

Rashumi blocks my punch with his forearm, and I jump back while clutching what feels like a broken hand. He gives me no time to recover, and then he starts by swinging wildly at my head, using his entire arm as a bludgeon. I duck under two of his attacks—

Rashumi's hand, along with the top part of his arm, breaks—it bends in the opposite direction—and he rotates his body in time to redirect the swing!

Rock-like knuckles tear at the skin on my cheek when I try to escape his reach! Rashumi's arm separates into segments; it makes a scraping sound as he rotates it like a whip.

"Steady yourself, Aaliyah-zalam!"

He asks me: "What should one do when the enemy is much stronger physically?

"Full-blooded Hayashi are known for skin as hard as bedrock; not only that, but we are all triple-jointed, and, as such, our bones tend to break rather easily.

"But, Aaliyah-zalam,"—I have to anticipate his next move before he gets closer—"bones that break are bones that heal, bones that harden, and bones that become unbreakable."

He swings his segmented arm at me, just missing my head, then he lunges in with a kick while I dodge to the side. His other arm halves itself, and a second fist moves toward me! I evade him again, but he follows by bending his fist back, striking my forehead, and putting me on my ass.

"When faced with a tough opponent, remember that the mastery of technique can provide a significant advantage. If you understand the mechanics of the human body, you can begin to understand the Sidogam Style."

Sidogam is a martial art that was passed down to Rashumi from an instructor who ran his own school while factions still warred for control of the Citadel. I like Sidogam because it's practical. You're made to focus on the basics of combat, and it's hella aggressive, for one.

"Are you ready?"

I nod, too out of breath to speak, then I use all the energy I have left to stand, positioning my fists in front of me. I hold my arms out loosely but prepare them to turn solid at any time.

I've got to use his body against him, but one hit from Rashumi could end this fight before I get a chance!

He swipes out and toward me with both limbs, but I lurch to the left, causing him to reposition as I come at him seeking an opening. His left arm bends back and rushes my way!

I stomp on the side of his knee and block with my right forearm, which almost breaks when his punch connects, and then I nearly fall over before I'm able to stagger forward and jab at the back of Rashumi's head—

His backs pops—he rotates one of his elbows into my gut.

I'm forced to my knees in defeat. Rashumi keeps lecturing me while I gasp for air:

"By Avva, you are the most impulsive fighter I know!"

"F-fuck you."

My response goes over his head, and he continues, "Not every enemy will prove pliable in battle. Many of your opponents will, more than likely, be twice your size. In this case, it is crucial that you pay attention to what matters."

"Why don't you tell me what matters then?"

"Because you already know, Aaliyah-zalam. Recall everything we've gone over—particularly, our most recent sessions."

"The Sidogam Style says to focus on vulnerabilities, right?"

"Correct." He bows. "Special care must be taken to seek out natural weak points for human enemies—"

"No offense, but what can I do against you?"

"Hah." Rashumi makes what sounds like a strange snort. "Hayashi anatomy is quite similar to human anatomy; despite several similarities, however, there are some differences which could be disadvantageous for the Hayashi—for instance, the fact that our kidneys are located in our middle back and are easily damaged by a most precise strike."

"I see." I smirk. "You want me to wreck your kidneys then? That's a big sacrifice."

"As always, Aaliyah-zalam, I speak to edify, not to bring forth needless contradiction."

I stand and dust myself off.

"Thank you for the edification. I'm sorry to hear about what's going on in Zone D."

"Ah, but it is no change from how it has always been. Dom Secundus fails in that our numbers remain measly, but, with Avva's Blessing, I believe that our army may subsist on faith. I believe that this is a righteous form of protest as well as a natural right for any citizen. The Way of Sidogush encourages all to jump at opportunities to assist others, and so we are expected, above all, to cover the full breadth of Zone D."

"What makes you so sure that Avva wants you to do this, Rashumi-zelem?"

"Come. Let us have tea."

\-------

I sit on the floor, across from Rashumi, within a large tent. he's dressed in a white, ceremonial robe known as a zorosif'i. Though Hayashi tea ceremonies are nearly identical to those held by the older members of government, this tradition requires that both participants don a zorosif'i and sip tea made from the leaves of a Coago plant. Coago tea's effects aren't as strong as what Tavon smokes, but it's a close second.

"Demons in Zone H, you say?"

"Yep—well, that's what my source tells me."

Rashumi nods earnestly and takes a sip. "Shikami speaks of evil in Zone H, but it is enough of a challenge to tame Zone D without including what might crawl from the depths of the Lower-City. All told, Aaliyah-zalam, it is of no surprise to me that there are humans capable of performing amazing feats. Though I've no knowledge of what you speak myself, I have heard anecdotes that tell of those who surpassed what I once understood as human."

"I meant to ask for your help in investigating H, but I didn't realize that your home territory was going through it, too."

"My dear, I'm afraid that terror never stops. Avva commands her disciples to persevere beyond any measure of doubt. Doubt is the enemy of genuine salvation—"

"I get it, Rashumi."

"But you do not believe. I can see it."

"Please," I smile to try to dissuade his ass from pressin' further, "it's not something I like talking about."

"You're a seeker of justice with no faith. I find this so fascinating, Aaliyah-zalam, and I very much wish you would discuss it with me—is the tea not to your satisfaction?"

"It's fine." I take a sip and say nothing else. I don't speak on religion. It existed for me when my mom was here, but, after that...

"My dear, it is of no matter to me whether or not you believe in Avva, but at least explain your reasoning."

"I don't have to."

He sighs. "Such stubbornness... I suppose it's always this way, though; conversion is not an easy process. The Way of Sidogush was established in observance of Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi.

"The newer, "enlightened" scriptures tell us that Avva was a distant relative of the Lord, that she Awakened to greater power—to immortality! She ascended above us, as Lord Isolakandi did before her, and, by her divine vigilance, the Citadel remains in the heavens. Although at times we may find the actions of our fellow citizens deplorable, we must remember that the Citadel is Avva's gift to us—"

I put my tea down.

"All due respect, Rashumi-zelem, but, according to 'newer scriptures,' speciesism was also Avva's gift to us."

"Excuse me?"

For the first time, I see his eyes go wide. I've never witnessed him show so much surprise.

"C'mon, man," I tell him, "humans used Avva to justify the Hayashi Genocide not too long ago, and then they turned around and tried to pacify the Hayashi by forcing them to convert—that's why the full scripture, which I've read all the way through, several times, tells people to back down, to make themselves weak in front of the enemy."

"We're instructed to pursue harmony with each other."

"I'm sorry, but don't you lead a militia group in defiance of the law? This op you got going on is illegal, and I apologize again when I tell you that most believers wouldn't agree with what you're doing here."

He gets quiet, so I go further:

"Leading a protection force that fights back against crime isn't what Avva preaches, and you know that; she tells you to 'heed your masters,' to 'cherish true authority,' and to 'keep from dispute,' right? And, at the end of the day, who's to say that any of what Avva says is true? How do you know that she's immortal, Rashumi-zelem?"

"I think it's about time for you to leave, Aaliyah-zalam."

I continue looking at him, but he won't return it. He's gone completely cold.

I think I've just lost my sparring partner.

\-------

I'm in the Upper-City now. At the Damascus Theatre, where I'm due to meet with Zola and the woman she introduced me to this morning, Krenisha.

My body's sore and bruised from taking hits from Rashumi. Stress is also killing me. I'm to resume my role at the Bureau tomorrow... a-and I'm nervous. Nervous and excited, to be honest, because I'll be confronting the guy who suspended me in the first place.

Lieutenant Kaust and I are on different sides. He's been diggin' too deep into my personal life, so I'm not exactly ready to deal with his bullshit, but I am ready to get back at Noboros.

A hovering drone waits at a glass booth before a small opening which leads into a building that's been sculpted in the shape of an hourglass. People are already at the top, ready for the premiere of Alandran Odyssey. It's a propaganda movie that mocks Alandra, but it's been commercialized as part of a new way of experiencing movies in the Citadel. I get the feeling that it's gonna be bad, but I'm happy to spend more time with Zola. Zola's smart in a way that most don't pick up on, but she can get under my skin because she likes to act as if I can't see her for who she is.

"Hey, girl!"

Zola strolls up, her purse in hand, and she addresses the drone before me.

"Two tickets for Alandran Odyssey, please."

"Oh, you don't have to pay for the both of us."

"It's no bother!" she says, "I felt bad about having been so rude earlier. Anyways, I meant to introduce you guys at a better time, but I was in such a rush, and the husband wanted to meet—"

"Girl, it's fine. Chill."

We hug it out.

"Wait! You're not buying one for Krenisha?"

"She had other things to do."

"Where does she work again?"

"Hmm... I think—oh," she looks up and palms her head, "she's supposed to help with traffic somehow—she's, like, you know, a director, but I, yeah, I think she works on the far side of things?"

"What do you mean?"

A light scans our tickets as we pass through the entrance, and I keep pressing her because Zola never seems to give clear answers. It's annoying.

"Shit... I don't even know, girl—and it was boring. Something bureaucratic and basic; she rocks Giona'i, Aaliyah. She drinks generic Mondoth sake, too, bitch! I much prefer the company of a coworker." She winks at me.

"Like you preferred the company of Shraeu."

Zola walks faster so that she can block my way.

I start to laugh, but my smile fades fast when I see that she's got a real dark, murderous stare going on.

"Don't say that again."

"Uh, o-okay."

It's a dead giveaway, but I need to figure out the right questions to ask without setting her off...

We enter an elevator that's big enough to hold fifty people, and it brings us to the top portion of the hourglass. From this distance, I see that the 'sand' is fake, like the images produced from netite or the holo-soldiers from earlier. Zola stays quiet for the rest of the trip, and I note that people are making an effort to keep their distances from us. She's the type of person with fury you can feel regardless of whether she expresses it. Zola hangs her head low, glaring at the ground, and we come to the plateau, where there's assigned seating in white recliners attached to at least a hundred machines arranged in order.

Zola steps out before me and glances at her ticket.

"54." she says.

Mine reads "53," and I take my seat next to her. My chair stretches back and pushes me up, forcing me to stare out of the overhead glass and into the bright blue sky above me; for this brief period of time, I feel like someone from the upper-class.

Once a human waiter approaches the two of us, Zola orders a glass of sherry. I start to pass, but she stops me with a look, so I go ahead and ask for one as well.

"Aren't you ordering any food, Zola?"

"I know you didn't just ask me that."

The young man taking our order's waiting patiently, and I've been craving their oxtails.

"You know I'm on a diet."

"I don't know why."

"Oh, whatever—were you gonna get the oxtails?"

"Girl, you already know—"

"Fine." She looks back to the waiter. "I'll have some of those, too—b-but go easy on the sauce, and, actually, can I get less—like, can you take less off the tab if I do that?"

"Yes, ma'am. We should be able to make that work for you."

Zola's beautiful, so she easily manages to get the attention of those around her wherever she goes. She's dramatic with every gesture, and she acts totally harmless, but it's a front.

"Bye, then." she says to him, and our waiter walks right past a bewildered couple nearby that tries desperately to make him aware of their existence.

I don't pay any more attention to her and inspect my ticket; it's a microchip that only activates at the timing of the premiere and expires at the end of the movie. A metal visor hangs over my head, and I bring it down while inserting the chip.

The machine powers on, then thick wires coated with leather slip around my arms, legs, and torso. Small needles extend out from the visor and move toward the back of my head, where they sink in and manipulate how I see reality.

When I close my eyes, another world appears; when I open them, I'm back in the present. In the other reality, a virtual one, the movie starts, and I'm standing among a platoon of soldiers that's parallel to several more platoons, all of them in equal ranks and columns and centered on a General—

General Sin, who turned on the Dawn Federation. When this country sent explorers southbound, he took charge of a brigade in joining with the nation's effort to expand by force. Sin's known for deserting to the other side after his unit was drained of all its resources. A lot of people died because of the decisions he made throughout this conflict.

This is the very beginning of Alandran Odyssey, and everyone who came to the premiere is guest starring as a Federation soldier. I heard that, later on in the movie, the audience can participate. Though we're spectators, we can change the outcome.

Close to the middle of the story, General Sin ends up getting exploited by Alandra, and they betray him the same way he betrayed the Federation. Sin gets executed, and his entire family, which he'd relocated to a rich manor, is ordered to meet the same fate at the hands of the Alandran government.

We're put in the room with Sin's only son, and, unexpectedly, he can see everyone in the audience.

"How the hell did you all get in here?"

He shrinks back and starts to shudder.

Zola touches my arm and sounds excited, "Hold on. I've gotta go—I'm sorry, but this is the best part!"

"Huh?"

Instead of explaining anything else, this bitch logs out of the program altogether.

The rest of the audience is debating on whether they should help the son escape from Alandra or leave him to his fate. In history, Sin's son, Donov, made it to the western border but still got caught. His body was never recovered, and most people think it's because he was tortured to death by demons or bandits.

The crowd's decision echoes their shared desire to do nothing.

It doesn't shock me. They're all rich folk, the type to sit back and watch. One of the lead speakers for the audience, a hunch-backed woman with her hair dyed a bright blond, addresses Donov:

"I'm afraid we can do—"

"Wait!"

A middle-aged man with short, brown, and gelled hair comes to her side and says to Donov, "We've changed our minds!"

"What? No we hav—"

"Enough." He sneers at the woman.

And then... her face changes as well. Her expression goes blank. She nods her head in consent.

Zola re-enters the virtual movie, breathing hard. Why does she smell like sweat?

"A-all right," she manages to utter and clutches her chest as she smirks, "looks like everything's going the way it should."

"What... did you do?"

Her smile fades, then her eyes widen. Zola's face gets serious. She stares out as a new scene starts to take place:

The audience winds up at the eastern border, which turns out to have been the better escape route for Donov after all. Members of the audience are given the chance to fend off the remaining pursuers, and some actually die in the virtual world. As punishment, they're sent back early to the real world to watch the rest of it unfold like a typical movie.

"I expected them to make that choice..." Zola sighs. "I'd just hoped that they would prove me wrong, but these people are all the same. 'Simple-minded fucks,' as my husband likes to call them."

"O-okay."

She's trying to tell me something indirectly, but I don't understand.

"Aaliyah, it would've been SO boring had they left that boy to his fate. Do you know what happens if you choose to keep saving him?"

"No. What?" I lean in, and my focus isn't on the movie anymore.

She shrugs, then she closes her eyes. "Neither do I. Not completely, I mean."

Zola flashes a dark smile at me.

"Because I'm probably not going to let him survive, either."

\-------

At the midpoint of Alandran Odyssey, Donov is given the chance to join the Federation instead of fighting Alandra on his own. The movie gives the audience two choices, but Zola spoils it for me:

If Donov allies with the Federation, he lives long enough to retire at the level of a General in the end but with a few more chances for the audience to kill him off in between.

But, if Donov rejects the Federation's help, he'll wind up crushed between the armies of both nations.

Now, this is when I think I might be losing my mind—or, at least, my machine's fuckin' up in a way it's not supposed to. Zola disappears from the simulation again.

When she returns, a random member of the audience assassinates Donov, cuts his throat.

The story changes just as Zola arrives again, and she can't control her laughter. The waiter takes the form of a soldier when he approaches us.

"Would you ladies like anything else?"

This is the fourth time he's asked us this.

"Excuse me!" A grey-haired woman in her fifties struts over. "Waiter!" she shouts.

He ignores her.

"Waiter! Excuse me, but we've been expecting our order for the past forty-five minutes. While she's very lovely, I'm sure, you've only seemed to focus on that girl—actually," she looks up, like she's just had an incredible idea, and asks, "can I please speak to your supervisor?"

Zola logs out without telling me.

The waiter's frozen.

"Sir, are you all right?" The lady steps closer to him. "Did you hear me? I-I said I wanted to speak to your mana—"

He slaps her.

Everyone looks, and there's an outcry as the audience circles around the commotion. The lady shrieks, then she covers her cheek while shriveling back from the waiter, who himself gazes at the hand he hit her with and ponders it like he's confused.

A decently-built dude, in a badly-fitted tuxedo, moves in front of the woman and widens his stance.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

A woman from behind the waiter exclaims, "Why would you do that?"

The waiter doesn't respond, and the movie ends prematurely.

\-------

I'm about to leave when I see Zola again.

She's waiting for her ride, and she acts like she doesn't see me as I approach.

"Zola..."

Zola balls up her fists while her eyes are fixed downward.

"They're all so, so precious, aren't they? So pure, so cultured and in the know. They stay at the top their whole lives, Aaliyah. Why would I want to live in a world shaped by them?"

"I don't know."

"This is stupid. All's well in the Upper-City; in the meantime, everywhere else promises poverty coupled with misery. They deserve whatever they get, Aaliyah."

\-------

I finally turn in for the night, but my head's swimmin' with everything I've learned.

Never thought life would be this way. It's thrilling, though the stress piles on the more you start to understand. As an agent, I shouldn't use my career to further selfish interests, but that's all I focus on, and so I keep my eyes on everyone in the Citadel. While Tavon's a good fuck and somewhat reliable at times, Tallah's my rock, and I realize, while lying in the dark bedroom of my apartment, with the window shutters peeled open enough to see hyper rails crisscrossing each other outside, that I pushed myself this far for her, that I'm not going to be able to go back when it's all over.

I have a good life. I stay paid, live on my own, and every year promises growth.

I have a great life, really...

But I'm about to ruin it.
2

Descent

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

A PIT OF FIRE...

There's a black hole that tries to pull in everything. I look for a way out, and I see the symbol of a blood-stained eye above. My fear gets the best of me, but I urge myself to keep going—through a wall of wind that might sweep me out of existence. It covers me, and all I can feel is the cold. It's so... cold.

Tavon's eyes flash into my mind. I feel sick.

I'm shivering violently as I proceed onto a rugged path which winds all the way up to a cliff's edge. My body feels heavy; I'm beat once I reach the end, and then I get real shook.

There's someone in a dirty cloak looking out over the distance. I try to call out to him, but I can't find the words to speak. I try to move, but my legs buckle under me. I'm sore, and I barely possess the willpower to look.

When I do, the stranger's right there. He's an old man and long past his own time, with yellow, wrinkled skin that sags away from his skull. His eyelids are so puffy that they droop over his actual eyes, but I also notice that he's crying—h-he's crying... but his expression doesn't match it at all.

The old man's smiling at me like there's some joke I'm not in on, and he seems to involuntarily quiver any time he moves his head. There's a cello that's bent in half and at his feet. He moves to pick it up but doesn't stop looking at me.

"Welcome to the End of the World, Aaliyah."

When he speaks, his corroded lips move in afterimages that shimmer through to me; his voice echoes through my mind instead of my ears. My jaw is locked shut... I don't even have the energy to st—

I fall on my knees, and a bright light appears between the two of us. Light falls on his face, and his eyelids part just enough to expose two black beads. Both turn the same color as a small, grey sphere which expands while attached to the ground.

"Aaliyah, I am the First Musician.

"I am the beginning of humanity, the herald of the End—and YOU! You, I have looked upon and deemed worthy."

I try to scream.

I touch my face, feeling that there's nothing there.

S-shit. I'm scared...

"Oh yes, those with great potential may carry the title of the First Sinner—those who wield Roukilis without the aid of beings higher than humans."

The sphere no longer grows. Instead, it takes the vague shape of a small animal. It's filled with a vortex that blankets over everything except for yellow eyes and small fangs. I recognize the same monster that's kept appearing in my dreams since I was captured by Noboros!

The old man reaches out to me with his open palm:

"You'll make a great fool, the ideal First Sinner. With your potential, I simply cannot wait. Aaliyah..."

His face gets serious. His tears are absent.

"There is a price for your spirit, and then there is the price of Awakening..."

\-------

My Kom Cell wakes me up with a message alert.

I'm getting a call through Linolus, a program that lets users create shadow holograms and use a proxy, which is fake identification information that's recycled through the system. Only one person tries to get in touch with me like this.

Rashumi.

I take off my bonnet then begin removing my peach head scarf while accepting the call as myself.

"Oh dear!" The scattered outline that makes up Rashumi's avatar gasps when he sees that I'm still in a onesie.

"Shouldn't have called me so damn early in the morning, Rash! You know I stop giving a fuck if I don't get in some rest every now and then."

He raises his hands in surrender.

"I-I apologize. I just thought—"

"Rashumi!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He bows.

"What do you want—a-and why are you using a proxy to talk to me?"

"You don't think our movements are tracked by the Federation? We can't rely on just you to protect our identities, Ms. Aaliyah."

"True." I nod, but then I feel irritated again. "What do you want, Rashumi?"

"It's Lance."

I pause and think about who that could be, then I give up. "Who?"

"Lance Kaust. One of my men, Aaliyah."

"Did you say Kaust?"

"He often calls himself 'L,' though I do not entirely understand why, Ms. Aaliyah."

"What does his father do?"

"His father?" Rashumi scratches his head. "I'm unsure of his exact upbringing, but I believe he stated that his father worked for the government. Nevertheless, Lance Kaust has gone missi—"

"It couldn't be Aden's son, could it?" I say out loud.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. L's missing, and you think it has something to do with me?"

"It's not so simple, Aaliyah. You must understand that maintaining a cell as a Hayashi does not do me any favors in the public eye, and I'm afraid my influence ends with those I call my friends, the dedicated Servants of Avva."

"Hold up. So, you want me to go look for him without knowing anything about where he went?"

Rashumi's sigh comes out in a distorted moan. "Lance is known for his artistic predilections."

"Yeah. He thinks he's a rapper."

"I've tried to steer him away from too much wishful thinking, but I'm afraid that others may have caused him to stray. Lance might have sided with the enemy."

"And who's the enemy, Rash? Every banger you see?"

"Zone G and Zone H have changed in the past year since two sects of thugs began a feud that seems to never end.

"The Miyushi lurk within G, while the Iketsun have settled between H and the Third Quadrant."

"And you think he's joined up with one of them?"

"Yes." Rashumi pauses to swallow. "The Iketsun are primarily a Hayashi-run organization; in truth, they make up the majority of Hayashi in the Mid-City, and it's all for their pride. They wish to stand up to the Federation, but their methods are quite despicable. On the other end of the conflict, Miyushi grunts don't accept the existence of any Hayashi, and they've lasted by utilizing a coalition of thugs intent on terrorizing us all. They're part of the reason why Zone H is under the rule of the Ministry of Beautification."

"You know what, Rash..."

He's acting like I've already said I'll do it, and I don't have time for this shit, not all at once.

"Ms. Aaliyah?"

"I find this disrespectful as hell. I'm not responsible for members of your team—"

"But Aaliyah—"

"Peace."

I end the call, then I get dressed and ready to head to the Bureau. I thought I'd only have to deal with one incompetent person today.

\-------

"Morning, Lieutenant."

When I walk through the open door to Kaust's office to report, he doesn't bother looking up from his computer or from his Kom Cell. When it's not that, it's a mess of folders in front of him or a link diagram analysis he's posted on the wall.

My new boss is sloppier than the old one, but the least that I can say is that he doesn't stop working. Kaust doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat, either. I've never seen him leave for the day in a good mood, and his office has become like his personal cave: useless lamps, bags of chips scattered across the carpet, and about three mugs that probably used to be filled with coffee at his right and next to two yellow legal pads below two broken pencils.

"Sir?"

He still doesn't address me. I get worried...

Maybe Kaust has decided to fire me after all.

"Sir!"

"Oh, is that you?" His petty ass finally looks up, and the side of his mouth twitches as he tries to stop a smirk. "Why didn't you say somethin', girl?"

"Detective. Detective Aaliyah."

"Yeah?"

"As far as I know, I still work here."

He frowns. "But you haven't completed your psych eval?"

"W-what..."

Kaust nods to a black, leather chair across the table from him. "Have a seat."

I gulp, a little stiff as I move to sit down. Training from yesterday's still got me sore, and that by itself reminds me of the Dream.

Out of nowhere, I feel like I'm about to pass out—then...

That Thing shows up again. I can never remember exactly how the face is, but it pops up and startles me in my seat, causing Kaust to get startled, too.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Y-yeah." I tell him.

He breathes in deeply and straightens a stack of papers before slipping them into an empty folder. "Okay! Well...

"The Bureau is no longer in its own hands. I'm technically not your assigned supervisor until this state of emergency passes."

"Stop playing."

"Detective, I'm not playing with you. Did you note the guys walking around in white armor when you came through the lobby?"

"Mhm. More Dawn Knights."

"Yes." He looks back to the monitor as he scrolls down on his screen.

"So, let me get this straight—and let me know if this all sounds right to you, Detective."

"Oka—"

"There's a terrorist attack made on a Dar-Tech plant in the Mid-City," Kaust rests both of his hands on the table while looking at me directly, "and the method of attack is through explosive force, force created through a suicidal crash into the center of the main building.

"The Federation has sworn to never use chemical weapons, not during war and certainly not on citizens. We're supposed to be above that level of cruelty, because we're the standard that's been set for every other human nation to follow...

"You get where I'm going with this?"

"Uh..."

"Why did a Dar-Tech plant, in the first place, possess neurotoxins which turned victims into violent psychopaths? It obviously couldn't have been the result of the explosion. Explosions kill, but they don't create animals out of people."

"Right. What's your point, Lieutenant?"

"The attack wasn't meant to scare us."

He bangs his fist on the table—

"It was meant to expose Dar-Tech, and who really owns Dar-Tech, Aaliyah? Who allowed it to build its plant?"

"The Federation."

"Right on. Do you know who was also one of the biggest shareholders of Dar-Tech, almost like she was in competition with a few other big players for total ownership?"

"You're gonna say 'Andrewa.'"

"Good, good—you're on a roll."

"Keep talking."

"Three of our detectives—including you—were attacked by what we've confirmed are natives of Gaspul, with no records available. They managed to get past customs, and the same goes for the fellas who committed the attack on the plant.

"Check it out, detective:

"One of assassins was made to talk. We found out that he was a member of the insurgency that still fights us in Gaspul, the Gaspul Native Party, but I think that he was also used as part of a plot to expose the Federation's unsanctioned development of chemical weapons."

"And Noboros denied involvement, so that means..."

"There's folk in this city conspiring in a way I haven't seen before. After the assassination attempts, the Bureau got made a fool of by two members of Noboros, and Shraeu disappeared without a word, meaning—"

I finish for him this time: "The same people are working their way through the system, trying to make everyone look bad."

"That's a good observation." Kaust studies his paperwork. "There's more here, though. More on everyone. On everything.

"Not only is Gozadalus still making threats about marching through Gaspul, but Alandra has recently tried to cut off the Federation's trade routes in the South, and, because the Bureau's already lost enough people this year, the Ministry of Beautification's receiving full sovereignty.

"There's no more policework. The Dawn Knights are seeking total martial law, and so we're all temporarily under their authority until the next official Council Meeting."

"What does that mean for us?"

"That we're getting pushed into a type of government that no one wants. That things are still going according to plan for enemies of the state."

"Interesting."

I try to get past all the bullshit, "Where do I fit in all of this, Lieutenant?"

"You don't." he says in a low voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Detective Aaliyah... look, sweetheart, none of us are in a position to do anything."

His eyes widen enough to show red rimmed all around.

"We investigate," Kaust gestures behind me, "and they shoot. That's how it is now, and so..." he exhales, "No, your boyfriend's not going to jail—yet."

He holds up a finger like I give a damn.

"Though my executive powers are being held back by some dense mothafuckers, I'm still capable of waiting on my prey, detective."

"Oh yeah?"

Kaust leans back in his chair and twiddles his thumbs while lookin' all thoughtful.

"Tavon is a murderer, and, in my eyes, that makes you a conspirator. The Bureau was established in an age of goddamn reason—it's here to keep the bloodthirsty Dawn buffs from massacring people, to stop the Angelos Association from killing for the hell of it. In the end, what sense would it make for me to keep you anymore, detective?"

Kaust rests his elbows on his desk, and, in an instant, I see all the anger that's built up within him. His shoulders tense, and his nostrils flare while he clenches his jaw.

"Detective Aaliyah, I've come to like the idea of firing you. You see, snitchin's not really my game, and you're still an all right detective—though you'd make a better Zone cop.

"Something... deep, DEEP down is tellin' me to push you to the bottom. I want to see things put right, ya hear, and so I've been forced, by you, of course, to consider a better alternative."

Fuck him.

"Are you listening, detective?"

"Hmm... yeah, I guess I got you, Lieutenant. It is what it is."

"So, you'll trust that my decision to send you into Zone H is nothing personal?"

"Zone H? Really?"

"None of you have been told anything about the situation there on purpose."

"What are you saying, Kaust?"

"I didn't exactly appreciate your words to me when I tried to show you how you should live. I don't often forget, and it's hard for me to forgive—that shit's not in me like it's in someone like you, and that's why this will be the last mission you undertake as a Bureau agent, Aaliyah.

"Zone H has never maintained a police presence for very long, and there's a reason for that. What goes on in H consists of the most depraved shit within the Mid-City; that district isn't right—nah, there's nothin' right at all about it.

"People are gettin' shot down in the fucking streets—sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. Bangers walk up to anyone, doesn't matter their age or background, and they gun down civilian after civilian. There's no business other than the black market, the riots have gotten worse, and the Knights haven't been able to effectively secure the Zone. It's like an infection is comin' out of that mothafucker, and the most intelligent decision I can think to make is to send my most rebellious employee there—you get it now, don't you?"

"You mean that you want me to fail while in the field."

"Hey," Kaust throws his hands up, "no one's saying you'll fail, but no one's come back from this task yet. When you rest your head where the beast lives, what do you expect?"

"If I don't come back—"

"You'll live on as another Bureau hero.

"But, if you do... well," he snickers, "that might just be impressive enough for me to go through the rehire process for you."

He thinks this is a punishment, but I'm more excited now than ever.

"Rehire, huh? You can't just keep me on?"

"Not without the satisfaction of firing you just one time and hopefully never having to do it again unless you decide to keep going down this path.

"Look," he edges in, "girls are being taken in the streets, kidnapped randomly, and no one is doing anything about it. They're getting grabbed up in all the chaos, and the list of missing persons grows every day there."

"I'm on it."

"Oh," his face lights up, and he smiles for the first time, "you've still got to get your eval done before you go—"

"I did get it done."

He stares at me while scrunching his eyebrows.

"You really think I didn't look over what you sent me?"

"It was an eval!"

"By a doctor who doesn't exist."

"Yes he does! D-Dr. Husashi! He's a professor at the Bureau!"

Kaust nods. "Uh huh, and I looked into the Academy to check their current staffing. There is no and never has been any 'Dr. Husashi,' which means you've probably participated in an act of fraud. Would you like for me to take action against you for that, too?"

"I swear it's legitimate."

What's happening?

"There IS a Professor Husashi at the Academy!"

Why does he act like he doesn't know?

"That—that doesn't matter. What matters is that a psych eval, prescribed at 'level three hundred,' must be conducted by the official examiner of the Bureau—meaning, you can't just use any doctor for this shit, Aaliyah."

"Then who do I need to see?"
3

Maxwell

\-------

Maxwell

\-------

ORGANIC LIFE IS MARKED BY DISSONANCE. HUMANS INHABIT A PLACE BETWEEN THE LIGHT AND THIS DISSONANCE; THEREFORE, MAN MUST NECESSARILY BE CURED OF IT, JUST AS IT IS THE DUTY OF THE HIGHEST POWER IN NATURE TO ADMINISTER JUSTICE TO THE LOWEST.

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

Underneath the Dawn Bureau, there's a tomb filled with people who either died while in the field or were killed in their own homes. When Kaust told me to board the main elevator and head to the bottom floor, I didn't think he meant to go into this dark chamber and pass by so many dead bodies. Once I'm far enough in, it's too dark for me to see.

Then, blue and white flashes.

Bright bulbs pop in the ceiling—they become planets, each one isolated but connected to the same network by the trail of a small star. This star travels as a small dot of light that comes to the center of the chamber and splits into electric chains, and these chains outline a digital screen.

The screen lights up. It shows a dark room; in the middle of the picture, there's a simple, plain drawing of what looks like a man with grey hair that barely reaches past two white eyes with small dots for pupils. The drawing has no mouth and ears. It doesn't move, either, but instead changes to a young boy's face with blond hair. Seconds go by, and it transforms into the face of a generic, middle-aged male, then it cycles between the same basic depictions as a voice echoes throughout the tomb:

"DETECTIVE AALIYAH, YOU HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO REPORT AND STAND BEFORE THE HARBINGER OF JUDGMENT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE CONDITIONS OF THE FOLLOWING INQUIRY?"

"W-what? I was ordered to report for a psych eval and to see the official examiner."

"DETECTIVE, I AM THE OFFICIAL EXAMINER, AS APPOINTED BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE FEDERATION PRESIDENT—" its voice changes from that of an older man's to a boy's, though it doesn't sound human. It sounds more like the system itself:

"I AM MAXWELL, THE COMMANDER OF THE DAWN BUREAU. MY MIND HAS BEEN SCATTERED THROUGHOUT THE CITY IN ORDER TO GATHER INTELLIGENCE PERTINENT TO THE GREATEST OF VIRTUES: VIGILANCE.

"DETECTIVE, AS THE COMMANDER, I FIND IT NECESSARY FOR YOU TO UNDERGO A MORAL EVALUATION..."

Maxwell's voice changes again; it sounds like a guy who's angry but firm in what he says.

What looks like two metal lances comes at me faster than I can react, and the shock keeps me in place as their ends round, turn a rusted blue, and crack into octagons with narrow openings. Smaller wires, that I can barely see, extend out in crowds, and Maxwell aims each one at me.

"DETECTIVE AALIYAH, DO YOU HAVE ANY PAST TRANSGRESSIONS TO CONFESS BEFORE THE EVALUATION BEGINS? THINK WELL ON YOUR ANSWER. DO NOT LIE."

Each needle pierces a different part of my head, and... and I think...

I think I feel them touching it. They've inserted right into my brain.

Maxwell's voice shudders through my body:

"IF YOU ARE FOUND TO HAVE MADE AN ERROR, YOU WILL FACE ELIMINATION BY MY AUTHORITY.

"THE QUESTION IS AGAIN: DO YOU HAVE ANY PAST TRANSGRESSIONS TO CONFESS?"

I've started stress-sweating. I realize that I'm panicking—that Maxwell's cornered me. I have to remember what I learned during Husashi's training.

Maxwell can probably pick up on subtle emotions. Any sign I give away could lead to him acting on his worst impulses. I can't let him know how I feel, so I remember what to do:

Always focus on breathing first. In running, in shooting, and in situations that can get out of hand too early. Breathing first, and then tense your gut. With slow breaths, think forward, but don't dwell anywhere too long. I let every thought drift through my mind, and I treat his question the same way I would with any other pointless thought:

"No, Sir, I have not transgressed against the Bureau."

Maxwell goes silent; for a second, I expect some buzzer to go off. I can feel those things moving inside my brain, so I clear my head again—that's right:

Maxwell's still testing me, waiting to see if my body makes any response if I feel like he knows I'm lying—

But that thought's gotta go, too. I'm back to a pure state of mind.

"AALIYAH, DO YOU THINK THAT I DO NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE?"

"Excuse me?"

I think I imagine a slight shock coursing through my head, but maybe it's real. Maybe he's gearing up to do me in now.

"YOU WERE THE 890th CANDIDATE FOR BUREAU CLASS 3196. THE FINAL EXAM OF THE BUREAU IS ADMINISTERED BY AN INFERIOR VERSION OF ME, AND THE CURRENT FAIL RATE OF THE EXAM IS EIGHTY-EIGHT PERCENT.

"IN YOUR TIME, IT WAS FIVE POINTS HIGHER, AND YOU, DETECTIVE, WERE THE ONLY ONE TO SCORE PERFECTLY IN ALL WRITTEN AND PRACTICAL PORTIONS. DURING YOUR TIME AT THE ACADEMY, YOU ROSE TO THE TOP THREE PERCENTILE OF ALL GRADUATES. WHEN COMPARED TO THE OTHERS, YOUR OVERALL PERFORMANCE PLACED YOU ABOVE THEM AS WELL AS ALL PAST INITIATES.

"I HAVE ASSESSED THAT YOU ARE AN INTELLIGENT HUMAN, BUT YOU ARE NOT TELLING THE TRUTH.

"WHAT IS THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE?"

Maxwell's image disappears and is replaced with a window into another place: it's the view of a camera. The camera's eye is focused on the back of someone hunched over and smoking as another stranger walks away from him. I recognize the guy, and it startles me because I haven't seen his face in so long. Normally, it only shows up in my nightmares.

And there I am, watching as Erig Deran looks up from his cigarette and spots a shadow approaching. It pauses before it steps into the light.

Erig peers deeper into the dark, and, when he finally sees my face, he frowns. His bottom lip quivers while his eyebrows retract. He's terrified, then he looks... sad.

"IS THIS THE TRUTH?"

Erig catches a bullet to the head.

Maxwell's camera caught it. All this time, he knew.

"Yes."

I've lost.

"DETECTIVE AALIYAH, DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW WHY YOU HAVE BEEN CALLED HERE FOR AN INTERROGATION?"

"Yeah..."

"DO YOU CONFIRM THE MURDERER TO, IN FACT, BE YOURSELF?"

"I'm-I'm not going to confirm anything."

"YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND."

Maxwell draws the needles back, and I feel an ache take over. It becomes a headache as they slide back into their sockets. Maxwell's sensors beam a light that stings my eyes, and I feel heat gathering around us.

"AALIYAH, WOULD YOU AGREE THAT YOU TOOK ON THE ROLE OF A VIGILANTE, DISREGARDING THE AUTHORITY OF THE BUREAU, IN ORDER TO CLAIM THE LIFE OF ANOTHER OFFENDER IN THE YEAR OF 3197, THIS OFFENDER BEING KNOWN AS ERIG DERAN?"

"Just kill me already, if that's how you want it. He deserved worse."

"IS TRUE JUSTICE DESERVED? IF YOU DO NOT WITNESS IT HAPPENING, DOES THE BURDEN FALL ON YOU TO ACT?"

"I suppose so."

"YOU ACTED ON THE INSTINCT OF A DIFFERENT VIRTUE, WILLING TO BECOME A CRIMINAL IN ORDER TO DO HARM TO ANOTHER.

"ACCORDING TO PROTOCOL, THIS WOULD BE DEFINED AS A CAPITAL OFFENSE. ORDINARILY, I WOULD SENTENCE YOU TO EXECUTION.

"HOWEVER, AS AN AGENT, YOU ARE THE PROPERTY OF THE BUREAU. AALIYAH, I AM YOUR COMMANDER, AND EVERYTHING YOU DO IS IN MY SERVICE. THIS IS THE SERVICE OF JUSTICE, AND MY IDENTITY IS THE COMPOSITE OF THREE WHO SOUGHT TRUE MORAL PEACE.

"YOU HAVE COMMITTED THE TRANSGRESSION OF MURDER...

"BUT YOUR CHARACTER OVERSHADOWS THE POTENTIAL OF AGENT KAUST, WHOSE TRANSGRESSIONS ARE ALSO WELL KNOWN TO ME. AGENT KAUST HAS COMMITTED TRANSGRESSIONS AGAINST THE PROGRESS OF VIRTUE, BUT HIS CHARACTER SHOWS LITTLE SHAME, LITTLE REGRET. HE DOES NOT EVOLVE.

"DETECTIVE AALIYAH, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE ENTERED MY SERVICE CONSIDERING YOUR PAST EXPERIENCES, BUT YOUR YOUNG AGE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN NO OBSTACLE, AND YOUR CHOICES ARE CHOICES I DEEM HEALTHIER THAN THOSE ALONG KAUST'S PATH.

"IT IS BECAUSE OF THIS THAT I'VE CHOSEN YOU AS MY WEAPON, SOMEONE WHO CAN DELIVER THIS NATION OUT OF THE HANDS OF THOSE WITH MORAL INADEQUACIES. BECAUSE YOUR CRIME IS KNOWN TO ME, AND TO ME ONLY, I AM COMFORTABLE GRANTING YOU FURTHER POWER BY MAKING YOU MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND."

There's no way he can be serious. Why would he—but maybe he knows that, too.

If he saw me kill, then he might've caught a glimpse of Tavon's fight with Noboros.

"I'VE IDENTIFIED A POTENTIAL SUSPECT IN THE BOMBING OF THE DAR-TECH PLANT, BUT HIS PRIMARY TRADE ROUTE WAS RECENTLY SHUT DOWN. MY EYES HAVE DISAPPEARED FROM MOST OF ZONE H AND FROM A SMALLER SECTION OF ZONE D. THE FIRST EYE TO BE REMOVED WAS TAKEN OVER A YEAR AGO."

"Do you know in what part of the city it went missing, Sir?"

Maxwell waits to answer, like he's wading through the database in his head:

"THE CLOSEST UPDATED MARKER IS HIGHWAY 02-H. THE REST OF ZONE H HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY DISSONANCE.

"DETECTIVE, I EXPECT YOU TO EXERCISE EXTREME PREJUDICE AGAINST ALL OF WHOM YOU ENCOUNTER."

"You want to send me there, too, huh?"

"CORRECT."

"I lied to you about a murder, and I'm still a better option than Kaust?"

"THIS OPERATION DEMANDS ADAPTABILITY USUALLY ONLY POSSESSED BY THOSE WHO GO THROUGH THE TRAINING REQUIRED OF THE DAWN KNIGHTS, BUT YOU HAVE PROVEN RESOURCEFUL, CAPABLE OF DEVELOPING A FLUID INTELLECT.

"I COMMAND THAT AN INVESTIGATION BE OPENED INTO THE CAUSE OF ZONE H'S DISSONANCE. IT IS MY BELIEF THAT STUDYING THE ORIGIN WILL PROVIDE LEADS BACK TO MY SUSPECT. IF MY SUSPICION IS VALIDATED, WE MAY PREVENT THE CITADEL FROM FALLING INTO PANIC BEFORE THE ENEMY STRIKES.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE PRECARIOUS NATURE OF THIS ASSIGNMENT? DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW WHY SPECIAL CARE WAS TAKEN IN MY SELECTION? YOU WILL BE THE FIRST AGENT TO INFILTRATE BOTH THE MINISTRY OF BEAUTIFICATION AND THE CRIMINALS THEY ARE MEANT TO SILENCE. YOUR SURVIVAL IS NECESSARY, DETECTIVE, BECAUSE IT WILL MAKE A SUBSTANTIAL DIFFERENCE. I WILL CONTINUE TO SEND HELP, BUT YOU MUST LEAD THE CHARGE. ARE YOU PREPARED?"

\-------

"May I ask what made you change your mind about Lance, Detective Aaliyah?"

I'm standing before Rashumi, holding back my pride.

"It's in my nature to help people."

I've got my magazine carrier strapped around a sleeveless jacket of brown fur. From the shoulder, a bulletproof mesh extends down and covers my arms, my torso, and my legs. I've two holsters: one on the right, for a regular revolver, and the other on my left, which is for the gun with remote bullet control that I'm about to take from Rashumi's secret shop.

This secret shop is, really, just a trailer that he says can hover and be moved as if it was a regular cruiser, but the piece of junk's an ugly, off-color green and looks like it hasn't been used in a while. The inside's run by a skinny, teenage girl in an oversized, white kimono that drags across the floor when she answers Rashumi's knocking.

She stares at her boss through infrared goggles, waiting before shaking her head.

"No."

"No?" Rashumi exclaims.

The girl points to me and says, "Just her. Her gear, her privacy."

"You heard the lady." I nod to Rashumi, who sighs then slumps in defeat before leaving the two of us alone.

"He's a grumpy fishhead," she says, still staring off after him."

"Who taught you to say that?"

She jerks when turning to address me, "Say what?"

"'Fishhead.'"

"Well, he's a fish, isn't he?"

"He's your 'leader,' and don't go sayin' 'fishhead' around the Hayashi."

She tilts her head to the side. "Why not? The Iketsun are Hayashi, and all they do is kill and eat people. They hate humans."

"Why do you serve Rashumi?"

"He's not like the others," she says. "What's your name?"

"Aaliyah. And yours?"

"Mau'Oku."

"Mau'Oku? I've never heard a name like that before."

"It's because I'm not from the Citadel, lady. Now, Fishhead Rashumi said you'd be needing some special instruments?"

"Hmm. Well..." I ponder what I should say next. "I just need a few things for survival, if you don't mind, Mau'Oku."

She winks. "I think I've got you covered."

\-------

The inside of the trailer is nothing like I thought at all.

"The little rainbow you see at the center of the room is an S. R. A."

"A what?"

"Spatial Region Adjuster. It takes space and causes it to expand outward without increasing the area around it! Using the S. R. A., I can make my home look like a spaceship. There's miles of space in every direction—just don't touch it, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Do you like it, miss?"

"It's very... bright. You got any paintings or anything that might take away from the glare? That could blind people, you know?" I smile, but she doesn't pay attention.

"Glare? I don't know what you're saying, but yes—yes, over here!"

She gestures to a black counter with a glass surface, and she's removing the top before I can explain.

"Would you like something for close combat, miss? Over here, I've got some really cool shit!"

"Watch your language," I cut her off, "and yeah, I might need a backup plan if I can't shoot well."

"What's that?"

Mau'Oku bends toward me and tries to touch a piece of netite in the middle of my chest.

I agreed to take on Maxwell's task.

In return, he gave me one of his Eyes: a portable camera that never stops recording. It's shaped like a dark egg.

"Oh..." I stutter, "It's a-a pendant."

I hesitate, then I make something up: "My father gave it to me a long time ago."

"Your father, huh?"

Mau'Oku reaches both hands through the top of the counter, causing an electronic beep to ripple through the air as they pass through a blue barrier. She takes hold of something heavy, heaving it out of the water and letting what looks like a Dawn Knight sword hit the ground. It's a skinny blade, but it's thickened by grooves on either side that change the temperature around it.

The sword turns completely red, then it bursts into flames, exposing Oku's giddiness.

I reach for the hilt to move the weapon away from her face—

The heat's almost overwhelming when it first hits me, and the sword seems to move on its own, searchin' for something to cut.

"What the hell are you doing with something like this, girl? Do you know how dangerous—ugh..."

"It's what my father left to me, lady, and I can use it far better than you can, I swear!"

"Wait a minute..." This girl's trippin'. "Who was your father?"

She swallows, then she avoids makin' eye contact.

"Nobody who matters. Well, that's not true, but... hmm..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to—"

"But that wouldn't make sense, miss." She perks up and puts on a fake smile. "If I'm to show you everything I've been working on, I might as well tell you how it started. If Rashumi trusts you, then I believe you're a good person."

"You have more shi—stuff like this, kid? How?"

"I can't explain it to you as well as she can. My mother called it Maia; my father was only around to give me funding when I needed it for personal projects...

"My father didn't care much about us."

She looks down while leading me over to a slender, black suit with a large concentration of small and subtle sharp ridges at its elbow and shoulder pads. It's laid out across a glass table. There are diagrams nearby and notes she's scribbled in messy piles upon the floor.

"He's part of the Ministry of Beautification's Grand Commission, a General. He helps lead those monsters, a-and he bought my mother."

"Bought her?"

"Yes. In our home country, Chi-nuj, the lower people—the 'lower caste'—is considered unimportant. I don't know who my father was, but my mom and I were sold by men of Chi-nuj to a creep. The old General can't keep his hands to himself!"

"Sounds like a real devil."

She nods, then Mau'Oku gestures for me to try on the armor. I wave her off, knowing that adding weight I'm not accustomed to won't benefit me if I need to maneuver quickly. I'd more than likely end up dehydrated.

"Let me see what else you've got."

"Right."

"Is this General looking for you now?"

Mau'Oku shrugs, then she grabs my Kom Cell without asking.

"Hey—!"

She places it next to a small, square, and black operating system:

"I'm adding an application I've designed myself to your Kom Cell. Huh, who would've thought Bureau Cells were so basic!"

"What are you about to do?" I reach toward my Kom Cell, but Mau'Oku's eyes clearly show she's persistent.

"You're infiltrating the Dawn Knights for real, right? If you really wanna kick their asses, you're gonna need an edge—because they don't have Koms, lady, they have the SPEC.N system, and it stores every little personal detail about them under heavy encryption. What I'm giving you is an app that links your Cell to a powerful update."

"And what's this gonna let me do?"

"Hmph...

"General Orito, my creep of a father, is in charge of the Knights down in Zone H, so he's not able to search for me. Fishhead's promised to help me free my mom, but I need as much data on the Knights as soon as possible!

"This app will connect me to any device you come within twenty feet of, and, with good enough reception, you can rely on my skills to hack into every SPEC.N you get close enough to!"

This girl's a genius.

"What are you planning to do, Mau'Oku? Hopefully, I don't have to step in."

"Don't you want the real dirt, miss? I do." She smirks, but her forehead creases as well as her tensed jaw are obvious. She's angry, determined.

"The more you know, the more info the Bureau's got to act on, right? So, you should let me help you."

"..."

"Is that okay with you, miss?"

"Umm..."

"The program's called OKU-LINK, named after me, of course!"

I cover the Eye with one hand and gesture for Mau'Oku to grab me something to write with. When our eyes meet, in that very moment, she understands—

Instead of giving me anything, she grabs a grey and rectangular object the size of her hand, presses a small button I can't see, and a holographic keyboard stretches out before me.

While I type, I ask, in the most casual tone I can muster, "What else you got for me?"

\-------

I'm in a sapphire-blue Bureau cruiser as I pass through a hyper rail that's been sectioned off from the rest of the Citadel. It's full of different Inter-Zone police on standby to stop would-be trespassers.

The Bureau cruiser allows me to get by without any hassle. The section around one massive hyper rail that descends past Zone D and toward Zone H is a web of interconnected silver piping that contains the sewage of all Zones and drains down into the Muranko River below.

Rail D-Z3 becomes a tunnel that's encased in carbonite, and the inside of this tunnel is lit by neon patterned in horizontal stretches of light.

Zone H has cut off all aerial travel, and so it's not long before I come upon what's both a checkpoint and the entrance to a district that caves in, like a valley, and slowly twists its way to the last checkpoint prior to continuing into the Fourth Quadrant.

The "Docking Area" comes up on my left, and I can make out the shapes of dozens of traders who've set up local bazaars and authentic food stalls. Past the first checkpoint, there's a huge stone door that's shaped like a spiral, and it shifts open periodically to allow passengers in from a super-sized elevator.

The world outside looks dark, and Maxwell's voice bleats out from the black egg:

"DETECTIVE, ARE YOU AVAILABLE FOR DISCUSSION?"

"Sure."

I'm not. Not really, but I know it's coming:

"DETECTIVE, WHAT MESSAGE DID YOU DELIVER TO THE SUSPECT BEFORE YOU LEFT?"

I can't do anything without It watching.

"You mean, you haven't figured it out already?"

"PERHAPS I HAVE. THE QUESTION IS NOT OF MY CHARACTER BUT OF YOURS, DETECTIVE. DOM SECUNDUS HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AS A TERRORIST ORGANIZATION, AND THE FEDERATION HAS DEFINED THIS GROUP'S ACTS AS TREASONOUS."

"They didn't have to go out like that, Maxwell."

"THIS IS THE PRICE OF TRUST, DETECTIVE. YOUR SIN REQUIRED ATONEMENT. I GRANTED YOU ONE LAST CHANCE TO FIGHT.

"DETECTIVE, WHAT INFORMATION DID YOU DISCLOSE TO SUSPECT MAU'OKU?"

I breathe in deeply and take a minute to think about what I've done. The egg's vibrating. I can feel it getting warm on my chest.

"I told her to run, that the police were on their way."

I snitched on Dom Secundus.
4

Red Panda

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"A BUREAU AGENT, HUH?"

"Detective Aaliyah—"

"COMMANDER AALIYAH." Maxwell's voice blurts out, and both me and the Knight checking my Cell as part of his background check flinch.

"The Bureau has a Commander now? Even though..." a large man in white armor, crafted similarly to the one Oku showed me, snickers and calls to another Knight who looks like he's about to fall asleep:

"Hey, Baldash, since when did the Bureau have a Commander, eh?"

Baldash, being clad in bulkier armor and wearing a strange face net, clumsily wanders over and brings the smell of alcohol with him.

"Far as I know, Bureau got canned in favor of us. Isn't that right, miss?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Can't protect their own agents, and a case-solved rate lower than the Zone police force average—good fucking Avva! What would a green princess like you be doing down in the trenches?"

I won't say what I'm thinking. Not here.

"I'm just trying to do some honest work."

Baldash eyes me suspiciously. "You and who else? Surely you have the company of one other person—why, I can feel their zol!"

"Zol? How are you able to 'feel' it?"

"My, my..."

He removes the net; out flops thinning, grey hair.

"Bureau agents really do know nothing."

"At this point, Baldash," says the other Knight, "I'm not sure who does a lousier job: the Bureau or regular police."

"Easy, Ianclair." Baldash sneers. "Let's not make fun of the misfortunate. Not everyone has what it takes to join the corps."

"Can I please be on my way?"

They both hesitate.

Then, Baldash shrugs. "I see no problem with that course of action, miss 'Commander,' but at least let us know why you've come all this way—I mean," he smiles sheepishly, "you do know what's going on in Zone H, right?"

"I might."

Baldash touches the SPEC.N on his wrist, and the stone portal shifts open to allow a heavy downpour of...

Dark rain? No—it's lavender, but it's got this polluted tint to it, and it rains down on everything. A stone platform lifts me to the entrance of Zone H, then Cobblestone streets draw onwards, ending at an old oak that's slowly withering away and surrounded by gatherings of people clothed in rags and holding their belongings in carts and baskets.

I smell a mix of smoke and decay. The district seems abnormally dark.

Voices call out in groups all around, and some are followed by the sound of bullets cutting through the air.

Zone H is a war zone.

Not far off, there's a fire, and I can hear crowds of people crying out into the night. The cobblestone turns to squared, steel tiles that connect and run over a man-made canyon, with housing projects on both sides and a wide chasm in the middle that goes past the bottom border of the Citadel. The chasm forms an abscess big enough to accommodate a super elevator that's currently only accessible by Knight personnel.

"All it ever does here is fuckin' rain, miss. Zone H is cursed—if you ask me, we're better off bombing everything below the Mid-City."

"Baldash, bro!" He puts his hand on the older Knight's shoulder. "Stop scaring her, man."

Ianclair fakes a laugh and then continues:

"It hasn't stopped raining since the Zone H police all wound up dead. I'm sorry to tell you this, ma'am, but this place has gone to hell fast, and it's not recommended to walk the streets without formal protection—w-would you like one of us to accompany you?"

"Definitely not."

"Right, Ianclair. She looks geared up for it; why not let her have a go of it herself?"

Ianclair inches closer. "You could get gunned down if you walk through as a regular cop, ma'am. Both the Iket and Yush are determined to keep out any personnel lower than the Knights. It's resulted in a long standoff."

"Too long," Baldash groans. "We've been on post for two months, seen no action, and now we're told to keep on with the same mess while there's a riot going on!"

Riot?

\-------

Janelle

\-------

Before the turn of 2301, Zone H experienced its worst riot, partially a result of how much the area had fallen into poverty and disrepair. Subsequent to their lack of nontoxic food rations, forced consumption of polluted water, and the decline of public hygiene, the Dawn Knight's martial control of the district had turned the people against the government. District citizens chose to hide either under the protection of the Iketsun, a radical sect composed of members of more than one species and representing species equality, or the Miyushi, who wanted to exterminate the Hayashi as a race.

Aaliyah arrived in Zone H at the exact point when true chaos had begun to erupt, and the majority of the Knight Division assigned to Zone H had gathered over by Echiga Square. Aaliyah met with the Blue Platoon in East Echiga Square, where the Fourth Captain, Prothocles, as well as the Knights under his command, squared off with both the Miyushi and the Iketsun.

She rushed into confrontation, initiating a sequence of events which would lead to personal devastation...

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

Everything around me's burning. If it's not burning, it's been charred to a crisp. Screams pierce the air so loud that I can't make out any real sounds while I move through the wreckage of the outskirts of Echiga Square. When this shit started, the news reported that the Iketsun were plantin' bombs on cruisers, and now the media's shifting blame onto them for the Dar-Tech attack as well.

Most of the buildings deeper within the Zone are formed from either metal or steel, but their furniture's not. Before I reach the center of the Dawn Knight formation ahead, I note giant and round spherical homes and businesses which display broken glass along with what looks like burnt interiors.

The Knights have already got their guns aimed at and around me—that's how I know I won't be struck down outright.

It's a tall, broad, and long-faced guy who greets me at the head of the formation, and he reminds me of an ogre.

His nose is small, curved to the side, and his lazy eye is accompanied by a red splotch below its retina. He snarls and aims his shining automatic rifle at me.

A blue laser draws over my head.

"What. The. Fuck." he says, "What the fuck. L-lady, what are you doing here?"

Flanking the formation's right, hundreds of citizens stand ready to strike, and all of them have got their hands on somethin', whether it's old pistols, rakes, or steel pipes; everyone's come to fight, and there's a squad of Knights in between both tides. They're waiting behind shields the size of which I've never seen in my life; grey, heavy-looking shields that cover the whole body. Every shield bearer's got a scoped rifle.

One of the civilians at the front of the resistance is wearing a leather top and plate-carrier, for bullet resistance, and he's got a short shotgun aimed at the squad. Next to him, there's several others garbed in gear they've found while looting the place.

"She's a fuckin' cop, yo!" the man with the shotgun interrupts, then he calls out to the crowd:

"The government's decided the Knights aren't enough to handle us! We gotta keep showing them that people can't be treated like this!"

He glares at the long-faced ogre.

"You can't just do whatever you please—it's our right to protest!"

"YEAH!" echoes some members of the crowd.

"Shut the fuck up!"

The ogre faces them:

"If you act now—right now, asshats, I can guarantee that we'll show no fuckin' mercy! I'll let my men rip this place to shreds! Are you sure you fish-fuckers can handle that?"

He turns back to me.

"Who the fuck are you, lady?"

"COMMANDER AALIYAH OF THE DAWN BUREAU." Maxwell's voice echoes again.

He's confused and spends some time trying to figure out where the sound came from. After a few more seconds, I realize that this man is somewhat delayed, and I'll have to wake his ass up:

"Who are you?"

"Oh! Oh! Yeah!

"Fourth Captain Armtrath Pregunsti Prothocles at your service—or, Captain Prothocles, yeah!" He bows, glancing at me real quick to see if I'm convinced of what he's just said.

"Anywho!" he continues without waiting for a response:

"As I been seein', lil miss, ain't no kinda room for the non-soldier type. You see, you're much too small to be traveling alone in a place like this."

"I'm absolutely fine."

"I'll do the talking."

Captain Prothocles points his finger at me. "This is a prec-prec-precar-precarion situation, and I can't allow any of the female-types to fall into danger. Also, you shall address me as 'Captain'—cause, if you don't," he tries and fails to wink, then he says, "I'll have you executed! Ha!"

"That's completely illegal."

I ignore the Knight and move on to the citizens.

I go to the rebel who's been doing all the talking. He starts to move his shotgun toward me but drops it when he catches my eyes. My spirit calms him, and he speaks:

"Are you really gonna take our side in this, government lady?"

"In what, exactly? What's going on?"

A large hand grasps the man's shoulder; from behind him, there approaches an extremely tall, skinny dude in a grey tank top, smoking a blunt he's left dangling from his lip. His hair's bright blond but curlier than mine, and it makes him seem as though he has less hair than he actually does. There's a red scarf obscuring the bottom part of his face; one of his hands only has three fingers, and the rest are terribly scarred. He looks to be in his late twenties, and the crowd tries to separate themselves from the guy. They revere him.

At the same time, every Dawn Knight tenses, as if we're on the threshold of violence.

"Some dopeheaded-ass knight done somebody in. Somebody real close to us, and it was the fuckin' Knight who was screwin' him over."

"What total bullshit!" Prothocles holds his blade ready at the waist and comes to stand beside me.

"Relax, Captain!"

How could someone with this short a temper become a Captain?

Prothocles turns and growls at me, "Don't put your fuckin' hands on my shit!"

He spits, "I don't care what department you're from, bitch!"

I catch sight of the blunt falling from the new guy's lip once he raises his pistol so that it's level with the Captain's head.

"See," he says, "now you've gone and started disrespecting women. You cops won't give up the guilty pig, and now this shit!"

Prothocles glazes over, then he becomes emotionless. He steps in toward the man and comes back coldly, "We're within rights to kill all of you. Right now."

"Captain, is anything true of what this man has said?"

"Name's Keizenpo, ma'am. I promise we're not lying."

Prothocles sighs and barely turns his head to acknowledge me.

"I doubt that a Miyushi boss would ever tell the truth. One of the two major gangs has gotta go through a cleansing. That's how the people can get Zone H back from these goddamned criminals!"

"And all that starts with you, brother!" Keizenpo gestures with the pistol, causing the Captain to activate a field of netite which creates a shield covering his body with an invisible coat of protection.

More soldiers in white converge upon our location, and I'm determined to change what I know is about to be the outcome.

People keep pouring in to trap the Knights at their headquarters in the Square. They've come all this way for a reason: they're leaking desperation.

"Keizenpo! Captain Prothocles!"

I step between the two of them, and they're both so shocked that I can feel it in the air when the moment eases up.

"What exactly are you accusing the Captain of, if you don't mind me asking? This doesn't all gotta go like this, so just fill me in on things."

"Is this the normal procedure for Bureau pansies?" Prothocles scoffs.

"Captain," I turn, without letting him overtake the conversation, "it's my job to investigate the origins of criminal activities. Before you engage in any imperial action, you need to understand motive."

"The fuck do I need motive for?"

"So you can stop your enemies in advance!" I shout at him, and he pauses.

It's long enough for me to return to Keizenpo:

"Explain."

"Explain?" He raises his eyebrows. "You want me to explain the last five years to you, lady? I can't believe some prissy Bureau agent couldn't take the time to read up on our situation!"

"Hey, buddy!" Prothocles starts, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

"I'll ask you one more time. If you don't answer..." I flip him off. "I'll beat your ass. Is that how you want you fate handed to you? Now, tell me what someone new to the Zone needs to know."

"Psh." he snorts, "All right, lady." Keizenpo shields his face with his hands and tries to mock me. "Don't start beatin' us down, too. I'll tell you how it goes:

"My mans, Kuon, was gettin' supplied by one of the Dawn Knights—a Lieutenant, I think."

Keizenpo stares daggers at Prothocles.

"A deal didn't go so good. Your mans got the money from Kuon, but your side didn't cough up the fuckin' product!

"And, when Kuon confronted your officer about not gettin' supplied proper, he got gunned down in the motherfuckin' street!"

The crowds rally a cry, and a woman yells, "They aren't doing nothin' for those girls down the way. Even with the government next door, nobody's child is safe!"

"The fare's too much for travel out of Zone H!" another man calls out.

Members of the Miyushi spread out in a rank that faces the Knight's shield bearers, and each aims heavy RAZE.E-29 automatic assault rifles at them.

Keizenpo grabs my arm. "Those fish-headed fucks deeper within the Zone aren't making the problems here any better."

"Excuse me?"

"Lady," he tugs at me, "there are demons crawling out of those projects—all coming from the Hayashi's district! The Miyushi have gotten the common humans of the Zone together so that we can get these clowns living on the deeper end. W-we can expose the Ministry's corruption and stop all the bad from making its way up, ya hear!"

I pull back from him, raising my fist reflexively.

I scold him: "Don't fucking touch me. I didn't think you'd be full of nonsense."

Everyone goes quiet; spotlight's on me, so I take it:

"By 'deeper,' I take it you mean most of the Hayashi here are at the bottom of Zone H?"

"Yeah." Keizenpo nods and seems shook from watching my mood change so quickly. "Whole place is like a swamp."

"That doesn't mean the Hayashi caused it, dumbass."

"Are you kidding, lady?"

"She's right!"

The Fourth Captain makes a move to step in again, but, this time, I physically force him back.

"Are his accusations just, Captain? Did one of your Lieutenants really supply a member of the Miyushi?"

"Of course not! Why, how dare he, a goddamned gang member, indict us on such bullshit—we are the fuckin' law, ma'am, and no adherer or Servant of Avva can subject themselves to such dishonorable behavior!"

"You a fuckin' lie, bro!" Keizenpo puffs out his chest and seems ready to attack.

Whatever the cost, I can't let this riot explode!

Prothocles brandishes his sword in the air, and the blade bursts with flames on both sides. At the handle, a weak shield generates to protect the user's hand against the harsh heat.

"Get out of the way, bitch. I've decided we'll execute them all!"

I rush and push the Captain back, confronting him fully and ignoring gasps from all around.

"Fourth Captain Prothocles, I invoke a test on your honor. I challenge you to a formal trial of combat."

"The fuck are you—"

"The conditions of victory may be whatever you wish. I only care that, if I can beat you in a fight, this standoff be postponed. Both sides will back off in order to prevent this from escalating any further."

"Wait, lady..." Keizenpo starts, "One of our own has passed, and you want us to wager on giving it all up? Naw. All we want is justice."

"This is ridiculous." Prothocles snorts and won't look at me for some reason. "I don't need to fight this bitch to know what'll happen."

"Hey, yo!" Keizenpo thinks over the prospects. He chuckles, "If she wins, then you've gotta present the Knight who murdered Kuon, all right?"

"You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious." I say to him. "You have to answer the call to a duel...

"Else, your knighthood will be revoked, right? It's dishonorable for you to refuse."

"Don't, lady. Don't." He grabs the handle of his blade tightly. "I'll make you regret it."

"Right! But, if she beats your ass instead, you gotta put the murderer on trial, and we wanna see his goofy ass jailed like any other offender. He's not special just because he's all decked out in armor."

"I've had it with your bullshit accusations." Prothocles finally meets my gaze. "Do you swear your intent under Avva? If you do, that's how I know it's from the heart."

"I do."

"I'll show you no fuckin' mercy, even if you are a woman! These are the rules," he spits, "there are none! I'll beat you down however many times you like, but no tiny cunt is gonna stop me."

From behind the Captain, a beast, one so damn big I nearly lose my cool, bellows:

"GO EASY ON HER. GRR...

"IT IS NOT HONORABLE FOR A MALE TO HARM A MUCH WEAKER SUBJECT."

A silver helmet, with a pointed disc jutting across the center of its top, shudders around a face mostly covered in black hair and splotches of grey skin. This Knight's a titan in comparison to everyone else around him, and I notice a white lance that covers the whole of his wide back along with abnormally large arms. It's like a gorilla's gained the same intelligence humans have, and he's trying to tell Proth to calm down?

The Fourth Captain, bolder than me, swats the gorilla's arm, but it's totally ineffective.

"Don't overstep your fuckin' bounds, Third Captain!" Prothocles confronts the ape directly, as if he stands any kind of chance.

Then, he starts removing his armor and stripping down to a white sarashi that stops at black shorts. "Unless you'd like to be convicted of collusion and given over to the goddamned Bureau—just-just..."

"Yo, man, this is where shit's gettin' hot! I can draw inspiration from this kinda stuff—"

—That's a voice I've heard before—

"The People standin' up to the mothafuckin' Man for once; Hayashi peoples and humans together in not takin' no more shit!"

Lance arrives from the south with a group of Hayashi soldiers. They look nothing like the Miyushi; they're covered in armor that's... swirly, like iron's been melted and spun to make ridges that protrude from random spaces in blue and webbed coatings of navy painted on heavy-lookin' suits. Their faces are covered in black netite, with each mask taking on the look of a disgusting sea creature.

"Lance!" I call out to the stupid teen, who's wearing nothing but a blue thermal with grey joggers.

He locks up, and so do I, goin' into a deep shock when it comes my way. I—

Prothocles steps in fast! He punches me so hard that one of my teeth flies out just as my neck rocks back, and then I'm on the ground before I can even feel what happened to me.

My vision almost fades. A wave of pain spreads through my head; I lose my hearing completely—b-but... I've got control of my body back.

I stand up, then I try to ignore the looks of pity from all around me. Captain Prothocles is a blur, with copies of him floating several feet in front.

I see him grin.

The face of a red, furred devil pops vividly in my mind...

I'm pissed.

I feel adrenaline flow through me, and it's working with my anger so much that my legs move without thought. I'm soaring forward, toward Prothocles, and, somehow, he doesn't perceive it.

I'm a foot away, but his face is still fixed in that smug look; his reflexes come close to saving him in time, but my first strike's faster than ever:

I chop the side of Prothocles' throat, promptin' his ass to step back while his head cocks to the side. When he tries to recover and steps in to send another haymaker at me, my body recalls Sidogam faster than I do: I dash inside his guard, prop one open palm against the inside of his elbow, and explode, pushing his chest with the other—

He barely budges, but I follow up by bringing my left hand up, turning it to the side, and swinging at the Captain's septum.

Prothocles sweeps one arm around, grabbing my wrist in his hand.

He doesn't react to the blood flowin' from his nostrils. I try to draw back, but his grip's way too tight, and he laughs as he tightens it further.

I send a dirty kick toward his groin, but Prothocles moves his thigh out to block me, and then he throws me to the ground with my own arm.

"What the FUCK is that on your chest, you slimy, government cunt!" he snarls, pointing at the Eye, which starts glowing again.

"Not now, Maxwell!"

I try to run at Proth with the same speed as before, but something's changed. I'm back to charging in with my opponent waiting to think out his next move.

I've gotta focus on proficiency—on what Rashumi and the Bureau's taught me!

I bring myself to slide across the wet ground, then I stop just before Prothocles, who raises his fists and heightens the creepiness to that damn smile.

Leaning back slightly, I kick, straighten my foot, and aim toward his head; Proth catches its impact with both hands. He grunts as he begins his next move:

Instead of trying to pull me off balance, Prothocles attempts to break the one leg I'm standing on. He forces my kick downward, steps out, and then tries to drive his heel through my kneecap, and—I saw it all leading up to this—I jump so that I can wrap my feet around his one leg, driving my toes into the back of his knee while putting enough pressure on the front of his foreleg to topple him and position me on top!

Everyone gasps as Prothocles' face smacks into the ground, and he's too surprised himself to do anything when I'm bending the same leg back. Instead of going forward with a submission, I grab the back of his head, and, with all my anger swelling up on the inside, I smash it against the concrete, and—

The big bastard spins; he elbows me in the gut, knocking me back before I'm falling on my knees and trying not to throw up—not here, in front of all the people I meant to do something good for!

My mouth salivates. My body gets hot; I don't know if I can stand...

Proth's at my side before I can think up a new strategy, and he moves to push me down. I grab him by his arms, then I kick up into his stomach; he flexes his abs, anticipating the attack, and he only breathes out after the hit connects. I kick him two more times!

His next punch rocks my head back and forces my right eyelid shut.

I hear Lance scream:

"Ay! Back off, you fuckin' steroid-pumpin', peon-ass, scum-head, fake cop!"

The Third Captain calls out: "GRR! THAT'S ENOUGH! YOU CANNOT RUTHLESSLY CONTINUE TO BEAT A WOMAN!"

That doesn't stop Prothocles, who picks me up by my neck, and—I-I'm losing consciousness—I can't fo—

I hear his voice. His image starts to blur again.

Bright red fur.

The creature in my vision...

"I'll just see what this thing is for myself."

Prothocles reaches for the Eye. I watch the tip of his finger touch it!

Nothing happens...

He moves to secure it in his hand—

An electrical charge burns at my chest, but it's not long before it transfers through me, in a flash of pain, and surges through the arm of the Fourth Captain! His hand stays clutching the Eye, and, for close to a full minute, Prothocles is electrocuted in place, his eyes meeting my own with hella fear.

The charge gets weaker, then I run from Proth as soon as I can because I'm not sure what all's just happened to him. Proth seizes up. He starts shaking while letting out a really obnoxious groan:

"Aaruugh—th-that's a dirty—i-it's a dirty fuckin' trick!" He looks like he's pleading with the audience as he says this.

Keizenpo, arms folded, scoffs, "What a joke, Captain—looks like your built-self can't handle a little Bureau agent! You gotta beat on the woman to stop her, and that's still not enough. This boy's weak, ya'll!"

"Yeah!" Lance chimes in, "Weak as shit. Ain't nobody feelin' meek 'cuz Proth don't know how to hit!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Prothocles, beneath a bruised and bloodied face, roars at them and then breathes hard when confronting me for the second time.

I haven't caught my breath. I need more t—

The Fourth Captain's racing toward me, one fist cocked back, and I—

Shit! I can't move!

The Face. There it is again...

Prothocles suddenly stops before he tries to knock me down for the third time. He seems to realize that I'm helpless.

He grits his teeth and glares at me. "How dare you go so far... I should—I should KILL you, you know! Look what you did to my face, you bitch!"

Prothocles backhands me, but I don't feel it. The force of it pushes me back, yet, in that moment, I'm able to turn my head as I fall. I feel time slow down.

The world around me, along with the Fourth Captain, transforms into a red darkness, with only the two of us existing in reality. Flames explode out from the side of Proth, and they signal the coming of a bright, ruby spirit that moves faster than I can see. These flames disappear quickly, but he doesn't seem to take notice of another monster having interrupted our fight.

It leaps from the ground and slides on a wall before attaching to it, then it eyes the Fourth Captain.

The beast is here. It's real.

At least, it seems real right now—in this world, and it's growling, preparing to pounce on that oaf. Should I try to stop it? Have I lost my mind?

"What?" Prothocles raises an eyebrow; he must not be able to see it! "I didn't say you could surrender."

He looks like he's going in for another charge.

The red spirit, now that I see it, looks no bigger than a raccoon, but its body stretches the length of two people. Its fur burns with a light that's too much to look into for too long—that creature... its determination matches mine.

It jumps to wrap its claws around Prothocles, and he cries out as invisible nails rake through his face and neck, cutting open one eyelid, all but gouging out an eye, and slicing a deep gash close to the Captain's carotid.

The picture of it's so intense, so incredible for me to believe, that my reaction changes it all somehow. My heart stops, and so, too, does the small demon. It freezes in place, its mouth ready to bite into his skull...

And then, it's swept away in the wind. Zone H is around me like it was before.

Prothocles trembles, and, to everyone's surprise, the Fourth Captain surrenders.

"P-please!" his jaw drops, and his eyes watch me carefully while sweat pours down the sides of his temples. He raises his hand in surrender.

"D-don't do that shit again. I-I don't know what—oh, Avva, oww—you're some kinda fuckin' witch! A stupid bitch agent! Do you see what you did to my eye, y-you dumb cunt!"

"Fourth Captain Prothocles!"

"Who the fuck called my na—" Prothocles halts in astonishment when witnessing the new arrival.

Far down the formation, Dawn Knights crowd into a narrow strip between grey wood and stone walls which lead all the way back to their headquarters on the summit. They're right before a man in white, plated armor with thin, golden filigree. The crown of his helmet is adorned with a silver mane, but he quickly removes his headgear when the crowd's attention focuses on him.

Sickly green eyes peer out from cropped, grey hair and shriveled skin. The hunched, middle-aged Knight struts over to Prothocles, then he says, calmly, "I order a premature end to this duel, Fourth Captain. After what I've witnessed, I deem this woman to be a worthy fighter."

"B-but, General Orito, she used some kind of magic—"

"I will not hear any more of this, Captain Prothocles. Another word and I'll hand you the fastest demotion ever given within the Blue Platoon."

The General looks to me and rests his hands behind his back.

"A government employee with less physical strength got the best of a trained Knight; in my eyes, this is a stain on the reputation of the Knights as a whole, and you, Captain, should be as ashamed as I am. Perhaps I shall assign Third Captain Luthicklug your role after resolving this issue."

Prothocles kneels, then he brings himself to bow before the General, who himself lightly taps his shoulder and mutters, "The military court will be deciding your punishment, not I...

"As for you, agent!" Orito addresses me, and I instantly feel as though he's checking me out in a way that I don't appreciate.

"COMMANDER AALIYAH," Maxwell's voice booms; Orito's reaction is the same as the last Knight's.

"I see. 'Commander' Aaliyah, then?"

"Yep." I'm too exhausted to speak my mind.

"We'll have a discussion back at the camp. There, I promise you that everything will be made right."
5

Second Descent

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"SUCH A PLEASURE TO SEE ANOTHER ALLY IN THIS PLACE. The people are losing their minds on the outside of the perimeter."

"Maybe there's a reason behind it." I tell General Orito as he sits across from me on the floor and pours two small cups of tea.

Orito slowly passes my cup to me, whispering, "Careful," then he crosses his legs and rests his hands on his thighs. Orito doesn't touch his own cup, so I refrain as well. Most of the General's office is spacious; any paperwork or files seems to be stored on a black device around his wrist, one that looks like a weirder version of the SPEC.N.

"There is a reason behind all bitching and moaning across the Citadel," he grunts, then he picks up his cup to take a small sip while looking down, "but that doesn't mean it's right to go around murdering police."

"Agreed. Still, there's a job that needs to be done, General Orito. There's something going on that's making things a lot worse than they should be—"

"Miss," he leans forward with a blank expression, "I should be the one asking you where the devil came from that's sitting right next to you."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Oof!" Orito nearly spits up his tea.

"Wait...

"You mean... you don't see it? I guess you can't see mine, either." He scratches his head.

"I—What are you talking about?"

He points at the empty space to my right and says, "That. If you cannot see That—" he gestures again, "then I'm afraid you're more out of your element than I first suspected."

"Are you crazy or something, dude?"

"'Dude?' Ha!" He fakes a laugh, and it's obvious when his eyes meet mine.

I note some buried anger.

"I am the General of the Ligma Division, and, may I remind you, girl, that all Knights at or above the rank of Captain maintain full authority anywhere except before the Council or the President himself! Hm." He interlocks his fingers while pondering out loud, "You can't see the other beasts in this room, and yet you are the only representative of the Dawn Bureau to come this far. Doesn't that make you a poor example? And, if that's true, should I expect the same of all Bureau agents?"

"First off, man," he's aggravating me so much that I don't care how I speak to him, "you're gonna have to explain what the fuck you're talking about. Are you really trying to tell me that there's something I don't see sitting next to me?"

"Yes, goddammit! The same little squirrel that put my Fourth Captain in the hospital and made a whole Platoon terrified of a skinny broad."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm the General, remember."

"I'm the Bureau Commander. I don't give a fuck."

"Is that why all your personnel info is completely blacked out?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

He grumbles and crosses his arms, forgetting his tea altogether. "Don't act like you don't already know—I get it, you think the Dawn Knights are a bunch of dumbasses, right?

"I looked you up in the system, and, even though it shows that you're employed under the Bureau, any other information is omitted, oddly enough. You have the clearest record of any agent in the Bureau, and you claim that you're the fucking Commander? Do you have anything to corroborate what you've just told me, or are you impersonating an official role within the State?"

"COMMANDER AALIYAH IS THE DESIGNATED HEAD OF ALL BUREAU ACTIVITIES." Maxwell's voice causes Orito to jump back.

"What the fu—" He stares at the Eye. "You brought a speaker with you?"

"It's recording everything around us."

"Wh—are you serious?"

He continues looking into the Eye, baffled for a moment before he collects himself.

"Ugh," he sighs, "so typical of the government, right?"

Orito forces himself to smile and leans back in defeat.

"Commander Aaliyah," he says, and I'm too surprised at him using the title to respond. "The truth is that the bottom of Zone H has become too much like the Fourth Quadrant. Just let me tell you about the number of platoons we've sent on patrols that way after the Zone police were being picked apart by crazed citizens. Several Knights went deep into the Lower-City, and they didn't come back—Knights, Commander, people who've trained for years in the most advanced combative techniques the Citadel has to offer!"

Orito takes a breath, then he continues:

"It started with platoons being broken apart at the lower end of Zone H; they'd always come back in pieces, and the survivors returned either psychotic or mentally deranged. We moved from platoons to whole companies, and then we were forced to stop sending patrols into that hazardous area after Vimilaeus Company was shredded to shit!

"The whole thing's been a burden. In my honest opinion, we... we oughta finish what we started because it's gonna get no better out there, and that kinda bad's steadily drifting on up."

"What solution do you propose, General?"

He clenches his jaw, turning grim.

"I think you know exactly what this situation calls for. The rest of the Earth's not so righteous, and a lot of it's due to accursed demons polluting peoples' minds. That kind of evil just gets everything fuck-filthy, Commander. It would be a much better idea to advance through the whole area in full force."

"You mean, run and gun, right?"

Orito smacks his hand on his thigh and smirks, "The districts not manned by my soldiers are places you don't want to go to—in fact, Commander Aaliyah, I'd suggest a visit to the school that's on North Nure-onna Road."

"There's an actual school in Zone H? I thought everyone was forced into virtual academies?"

"You forget about the Hayashi. They've got their own way of doing things—a way they probably think is better than ours, so they've been given permission to keep their one institution down in this Zone—but that's not the point of this; this is for you, Commander."

"What?"

He doesn't look at me, instead staring ahead as he proceeds, "Commander, would you sign a document stating that you're willing to cooperate with the Dawn Knight on matters related to the safety of the State?"

"No."

"Huh?" He's taken aback for a second, but his confusion resolves when a smile spreads across his face, and then he laughs.

"Well, what do you know, you're not an idiot after all!"

Orito presses something on his SPEC.N and turns back to me without saying anything.

"You're not making any sense—you know this is all on camera, right? You didn't forget anything?"

"The more I say, from here on, the more the Bureau's gonna want me to stop. You guys have no jurisdiction over me."

A Knight in plain-looking, dull-white armor arrives, then he halts to salute Orito.

"General! Champion Hercun here to report!"

"Relax." Orito gestures for Hercun to come closer. "Hurry over here. I need a favor."

He uses his SPEC.N to generate a blue, holographic tablet and says, "Write your full name or the signature you've used for the past ten years—the same way you always write it, soldier."

"Uh—Okay! Yes, General Orito!" Hercun eagerly bends down and scribbles a mangled group of letters before giving up completely and drawing a line.

"Very... uh, yes. You did good, soldier." He nods with the most serious expression.

"You're dismissed. Do great things for this country."

He pats Hercun on the back, who seems more confused than me.

"Yes, General Orito!" He nearly takes off running to get away from the two of us.

"I'll be sure to send my sympathies, Champion Hercun..."

Hercun stops in place, failing to address the General at first.

"Sir?"

"I'm sure the two of you will have more beautiful children to come in the future."

Hercun turns his head.

"S-sir...

"Did you say..."

"You're a perfect soldier, and you've made a damn good officer under my command, Herc. I'm sorry to hear about what happened."

Hercun swallows, then he starts toward the door again.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Of course." Orito's eyelids close to show only small slits above a mischievous grin.

After Hercun leaves, he tells me, "His wife seems to have suffered a miscarriage. This happened... oh, um, good Avva—yesterday!" he holds up one finger as he exclaims. "He should've put in his leave papers! I'll have to—"

"I don't understand. This wasn't already common knowledge?"

"Not at all. He fell for what you didn't, Commander. Hercun gave me a signature, and so, with his writing and due obedience, I saw into his mind—into his freshest memory, and I had to stop at Mrs. Hercun all but bleeding out on their fucking bed."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit?" He briefly raises his eyebrows, then he shrugs. "Believe what you want, but that just tells me that you aren't ready for a real partnership."

"What makes you think I want a 'partnership?'"

"You're here about those girls, right? That's the only time the news anchors report their hardest—it's like a soap opera, you know, and that's all the tourists ever talk about."

"You guys get tourists?"

"Heh." he sighs. "Everybody wants to see a preview of hell—though it always looks the same, like ass."

"Ass, huh? And it's so bad that ya'll are enlisting gorillas?"

"Goril...?" he hesitates. "I don't think I—oh! Oh, shit, you mean Third Captain Luthicklug!"

Orito lowers both eyebrows and gives me a hard frown. "Commander Aaliyah, don't you think it's a bit speciest for the Bureau to go around calling Agexiz citizens 'gorillas?'"

"I've never seen anything like that, so I apologize for my brash comment."

"And you should, because the Citadel government prefers to not let the Agexiz in this country anyways. Imagine how difficult it must have been for him to become a Captain."

"He's an ape."

"Fucking Avva..." he shakes his head and breathes out fairly hard, "Look, lady," Orito speaks to me with his hands and while cringing slightly, "like I said before: there's a lot of shit you don't understand and that you absolutely need to before you go lookin' for those girls—because I know you're gonna fucking do it regardless, hence why I don't even need a signature."

"Why won't you explain everything right here?"

"Because there's someone in Zone H who can do it better. North Nure-onna Road. Go to the place I told you about, all right? It's called the Spirit Lyceum."

"I'll keep the name in mind."

"Then I'm afraid that's all we need to talk—"

"What's to be done about the rogue officer who killed someone he supplied?"

"Beg your pardon? Fuck if I ever heard of that."

"Fourth Captain Prothocles seemed pretty upset when Keizenpo made his accusations."

"It is our duty to become offended whenever someone tries to disrespect the Ministry of Beautification. We're only doing our part to uphold the Ministry's integrity, Commander."

He's a gross, short, and bitter man. I decide to really overstay my welcome:

"If there is any truth to what Keizenpo is accusing you of, then that makes this an open case."

"Well, then," Orito huffs, "I would advise Mr. Keizenpo to fill out a formalized complaint against the Ministry and to kindly wait for a response."

"General, will you make sure that justice is done here? If you know what caused the most recent riot, then please single out people you think are gonna start shit. Innocent lives are being lost for nothing."

"Hmph. All right," he says, but I don't believe him.

"The Dawn Bureau can be assured that my Knights will each be inspected thoroughly for behavior deemed dishonorable...

"But I am warning you," he scowls, "there are no dishonorable Knights, Commander."

\-------

There's one last gadget Mau'Oku gifted me with before I turned her friends in to the police.

It starts out as a small, metal pendant in the shape of a strange symbol, a cute accessory. Saying "Oku-Go" causes it to activate, to unfold itself into square sheets of metal that push out from the center, bending as netite appears around steel and molds it into a sphere with four prongs that sink into the ground; beneath each prong, there's miniature propulsion jets, and the device, called an Oku, erects bullet-proof glass over red-leathered seating.

There's a control panel in front of me that's meant to be linked to either a Kom Cell or a SPEC.N. The Oku moves in bursts powerful enough to send it flying at the same speed of the average cruiser; its legs can slow its flight, acting like brakes, if needed, and it's equipped with a simple defense system that includes two machineguns which rotate within two crevices at the Oku's front and right, below the console.

I use the Oku to cross through the Miiosha District, which really shows the changes from the upper part of the Zone to its lower end.

Sewage and water drainage have piled up in Miiosha; supposedly, it gets worse on down from here. The conditions have gotten so terrible in this area that all homes and shelters reveal rough wear, and sick-looking algae populates nearly every empty space. The downpour increases, but I'm lucky that the Oku gives me protection against a kind of storm that drenches and corrodes everything over time.

The people here are in the middle of a shallow but constant flood, and I pass by both humans and Hayashi alike, all wearing just what they can, wandering around defeated and starved. Gunshots get heavier in the background, and I notice that some of the Knights have begun blocking off specific streets and setting up barricades.

There are entire parts of Miiosha closed off only because people won't stop shooting and robbing one another. The way to Nure-onna Road is through another checkpoint, but this one seems more than necessary:

Steel tents surround a netite castle as well as a tenshu colored an abnormal black and rimmed with neon green filigree. Every Knight of the twenty or so there is spread out in a wide circumference of the camp. Some dudes are in the prone, posted behind bulky rifles. Others seem more relaxed as they lean on both the abandoned buildings and the dying trees around them, but they keep alert.

Their attention gravitates to me when I stride toward them in the Oku.

Five guards flank my left side, and a Knight in white armor, with a black stripe running through its middle, approaches from the front.

"Hold the fuck up!" an older woman's voice booms from beneath a round, simple helmet. "Don't step any closer or we'll shoot!

"Step out of the vehicle!"

I lift the top up, then I'm hit with a flurry of raindrops while the Knights stand by impatiently.

"Hurry the fuck up!"

"Easy!" I land on my feet, then I come to stand with my hands on my hips.

"Show us your hands!"

I do as requested and tell them, "I'm Commander Aaliyah of the Dawn Bureau. I've been assigned to investigate the Spirit Lyceum."

"Spirit Lyceum?" the female Knight grumbles, "The fuck are you talking about, lady—if you're the Bureau Commander, then where's your protective detail?"

I point to the Eye. "This is my protective detail."

"Wait a minute." another knight's voice, this time a man's, speaks up, "Isn't 'Aaliyah' the name of that cop who beat up the Fourth Captain?"

"What? Fourth Captain Proth was in a fight?"

"Yeah!" the other Knight responds while lowering his weapon, "You didn't hear, Champion? Captain Proth got his ass handed to him—"

"Watch what you say about your chain of command!" she snaps, taking her eyes off me.

"Apologies, Champion."

"Fuckin' right, soldier. Square away your posture if you're feeling sorry!" She nods and turns back—

"What the fuck is a Spirit Lyceum?"

"General Orito says there's some sorta school run by the Hayashi on Nure-onna Road. That info sound straight to you?"

"Ain't never heard of that road before, but... yeah," she puts one hand on her hip, "there's a fish-school that some of the younger kids got involved with. Shame for that."

"Why shame?"

"Tch. Us humans do best by using the System; it's only right that they participate, too, Ms.—but now we've got our own people helping guard Akashira Village and some ignorant schoolhouse."

"Hm. A schoolhouse still in the Citadel... the real shame is that the next generation will never know what it's like to be taught by a real person."

"I'm sure the System served you better—in fact, Ms., that's how I know you're good people."

"If you say so."

"Champion, I pulled up the Bureau's personnel data!"

The humbled soldier hurries over to us.

"Let me take a look."

She stares at me briefly, then she sighs.

"It's custom to check out everybody tryin' to get through to Akashira. Hmm...

"You are an agent—of that I'm certain, but it seems that I'm... blocked? My security clearance should outrank yours."

"I told you. I'm the Commander."

"Pfft. All right, lady, we can keep this goin', but, just know, I'm only doin' this because you're cute when you smile, darlin'."

"Uh... thanks."

"Mhm." She looks me over and keeps nodding to herself. "I can put together an escort team to get you to Raijin Company. Past this point, my brothers and sisters are advancin' into Intersection H-4, and I reckon, if you're in one of them handy monsters like that there, a way should open for you to separate and cross over into Akashira—but wait," she contemplates something then shouts, "you should meet with the Fifth Captain—he's the man in charge, darlin'!

"Fifth Captain Zhuo is leading the charge into the Vartrue District, but it's been takin' some time, ya see."

"You've lost control of districts?"

She pauses. My question's disturbed her, and I realize that she's probably been posted in this area for a while.

"It's tragic, darlin', but we keep fighting, and that's all I can claim. Would you like some of the boys to take you over to see Captain Zhuo?"

"Where's he stationed? Deeper in the mess?"

"Oh, ha! That's cute, dearie—"

The Champion points out the round and marbled red peak of a tower circled by a larger camp of Knights. It's been sculpted beautifully, with white weld lines that twist around the body and end at a glass door.

"That's Captain Zhuo's palace. It's such a pretty fuckin' spot, and, every now and then, the good Captain invites one random platoon over for a feast, sometimes a round of drinks, too!"

"Your Captain lives in a mothafuckin' 'palace,' huh? And where do you all live?"

"We remain on post, darlin'. Captain Zhuo is the head of all operations."

"And you said you've been losing ground?"

"Ah... hmph."

Her sigh's a lot bigger this time.

"The pretty ones are always so stupid."

"Excuse me?"

She holds her hand out—"I can't discuss private information openly, especially when the Dawn Knights trump your authority."

I start to climb back inside the Oku while she keeps ranting:

"All you should take heart in, miss, is that the battle continues and that we're not finished. In the meantime," her tone gets cheery, "you should visit Fifth Captain Zhuo!"

"I don't need an escort."

The seal of the Oku closes around me, and my voice amplifies through the spider mech: "Which way is Akashira Village?"

She stiffens, like she's too confused to understand.

"You've gotta go to the center of Intersection H-4," she tells me, "and head down from there. There's gonna be some guys already stormin' through, so I reckon you could join with them...

"B-but, miss, I also reckon it'd be rude if you didn't have an audience with our chief! You could dine in the palace, relax after comin' all this way, listen to some mus—"

"Fuck that."

I apply more power to the Oku's thrusters and burst through the checkpoint to land on a patch of black grass that's part of a large field; the field runs past synthetic, silver palm trees and dozens of brick and mortar houses, most of them small except for a few buildings that stand out, connected by steel rods to giant, spherical, and metallic dwellings that appear suspended in the air.

The Oku's movin' faster than normal, and so the dead plain rushes by before I can make out the Champion's next words.

The sound of gunshots is closer. I sense that I'll need to keep a fast pace if I want to make it to Raijin Company without drawing too much attention.

I'm wading into the middle of a revolution...
6

Black Hole

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

ON MY WAY INTO CHAOS, I GET TWO CALLS.

I'm speaking to Maxwell when the first one comes in, and the terminal in front of me shows only a thermal-geographic map of the area around me in a wide radius. The map shows detected heat signatures, but most all of them are clustered far east of my location.

"THE INCOMPETENCE DEMONSTRATED BY CAPTAIN ZHUO'S SUBORDINATES IS UNACCEPTABLE.

"BECAUSE OF DEVIANT SERVANTS OF JUSTICE, COMMANDER, SOCIETIES CAN BECOME DISTRACTED FROM RIGHTEOUS PATHS."

"She was a trip all right."

"SINCE FIFTH CAPTAIN ZHUO WAS POSITIONED OVER THE SOE BRIGADE, THE MINISTRY OF BEAUTIFICATION HAS LOST A REPORTED TOTAL OF TEN OUT OF THIRTY DISTRICTS.

"THEIR ORIGINAL DISTRICT CONTROL COUNT FELL SHORT BY ONE, YET ZHUO REMAINS IN CHARGE DESPITE LOSING NINE MORE."

"Listening to you talk shit like a human is surreal."

"I AM HUMAN."

"What?"

There's a screech loud enough that I scream, having to cover my ears before I realize that the Oku's volume is turned all the way up on incoming calls.

I reduce the volume by half and then check the terminal screen, which minimizes the map in favor of a number attached to Citadel coordinates.

"COORDINATES READ AT 4.8.9.H-4.3.33. COMMANDER AALIYAH, THIS CALL IS FROM THE MIIOSHA DISTRICT. PROCEED WITH CAUTION."

"Right, right." I ignore his voice and press "accept call" on the terminal.

A gold light projects from the screen, then it creates a holographic ceiling. From there, smaller particles descend; the picture begins to lengthen to about half my size before floating away and just above me.

I see the floating portrait of an enormous older man resting back in what looks like a seat that's made from a nest of stacked pillows. Before the loveseat, there's a table covered in dirty plates and silverware. I notice a cat licking one plate bare while a dude with three chins, not to mention eyelids that sag over his eyes, smiles at me, revealing that one of his top-front teeth is missing. His buttoned shirt seems ready to pop, and his waistline has got to exceed sixty. His belly's so large that it hangs over like a bloated lump.

I can hear his labored breathing through the projection. What's left of the black hair on his head has been tied back into a ponytail, with the scalp shaved around it.

"Good Afternoon, Commander Aaliyah! I wasn't expecting you to visit so soon! My, I would have, at the very least, prepared coffee cakes. My men would have brought you the very best tea in the Mid-City!"

"And you are?"

"BAHAHA!"

He twirls a handlebar mustache. I can barely see two black balls staring out from all the extra skin. Two angry eyes.

"I'll pardon you for never having heard of me—oh ho, although I have protected Zone H dutifully, and my history in the first war with Gaspul is well-known—even in Enrec!

"I was known as 'Emperor' Zhuo... heh. Many weaker men fell when the power of the Knights overtook the Gaspulan cities below." His grin gets toothier. "Now, I expect for you to know me as the Fifth Captain, the highest-ranking of them all, as well as the right hand of the General."

"It's nice to finally meet you, Fifth Captain. I've been talking over the situation with some of your soldiers—"

"You have? Well, I trust that they provided adequate entertainment for such a celebrated agent of the law."

"Something like that, Captain, but they didn't seem too positive about the future."

"Oh?" Zhuo claps his hands to his cheeks, faking concern. "I suppose the boys do not yet fully understand what needs to be done. My withdrawal of troops too far in was necessary to bolster the defense of the Soe Brigade."

He clenches one fist, then his expression hardens.

"Those so far below do not always comprehend the moves of those in charge—those with considerable experience, I might add, and I'd also like to suggest that you visit the palace during our upcoming feast—"

"No."

"Wh-what?"

"I meant to say that your soldiers informed me of the situation, Fifth Captain Zhuo, and so I've taken it upon myself to help Raijin Company where I can, which I imagine should help out your entire brigade, and I'm hoping I'll get to where I need to be in the process."

"Miss Aaliyah—"

"Commander Aaliyah."

I end the transmission.

"COMMANDER, I WOULD NOT ADVISE SUCH ACTIONS IN THE FUTURE."

The landscape shifts a little as we arrive before only four tents this time, and each one is close to a different series of identical houses that have these brown shingles and off-white paint jobs that've faded over time. A large crowd of Knights stops in place while a mech like my own races out to meet me.

When it suddenly freezes, I notice that this version's shining white, bigger in its frame, and seems like its equipped with miniaturized missiles attached to three different weapon systems.

I press the 'signal' icon on the terminal, and the symbol of the Dawn Bureau reflects off the front of the Oku.

"A Bureau agent?" the pilot of the mech calls out to me, "This is no place for a cop! This area is off-limits to personnel other than members of the Ministry!"

"I have permission from General Orito to join with your advance."

"Advance? You mean the one that started an hour ago? You've no jurisdiction here, lady!"

"Commander!" I bark at him and almost laugh when his mech stutters back:

"O-okay! Commander! You said you have orders from the General? I know we could always use more Zomas on the field, and another platoon's about to head out toward Phor District—"

"Does that run by Akashira?"

"Uh, let me see if I...

"Yeah, it runs down through the Intersection, so I know they'll be marching to a hyper rail that breaks off and goes close to the bottom of Zone H, b-but why would you want to go there?"

"It's secure, isn't it?"

"I mean, if you call a handful Knights being forced to patrol all day 'secure,' then I guess, but that's still not enough. The sorry fuckers stationed there live in worst of it. Right before the passage to the Lower-City, this Zone can't be traveled without a small army."

"Just get me to the next platoon."

The second call arrives as he rotates his Zoma—the government version of my Oku—back toward soldiers who've started to organize into separate formations.

Fifth Platoon of Raijin Company is to the far right; I peep three ranks with four in each. The other platoons are just as short-staffed, and I get an uneasy feeling.

"Are you the QRF (Quick Reaction Force)?"

"Ha!"

He ignores me to address the Fifth Platoon. So that I can listen in, I decide not to answer the incoming call:

"You know what your job is, right, men? You know what we've gotta do now?"

No one from the Platoon speaks up. In front, every knight wears white armor striped in blue. Every one of them carries a long, metal lance, and, in the two ranks behind them, I notice Knights in dark bronze armor; most of them hold their rifles down and at the waist, with the exception of a dude and a buff woman carrying what looks like light machineguns. Both guns are nearly as big as the people using them, and the woman's covered hers with brown fur to protect it from the rain.

"One of you cockfucks better answer for me, or would you rather start pushing right here?

"We'll fuckin' bear crawl all the way to Vartrue District if you want it that way—is that how you wanna join your brothers and sisters, the ones down there becoming martyrs for Avva?"

"No, Sergeant!" Fifth Platoon screams at the top of their lungs.

"Are you ready to go out there and kill those fish-fuckin' terrorists?"

"Yes, Sergeant!"

"We've gone way past negotiating with the enemy! This is OUR country, and this is what we fight for, soldiers—we are Avva's justice, the true badasses of the Citadel!

"The time's passed for talking. We'll skullfuck 'em."

\-------

There's Vohan, Lor, Shavo, and Den: four lancers whose boots are designed to let them glide in all directions. Because they can move faster, the lancers travel ahead of the rest of the formation, spreading out in a wide arc. They try to sneak forward and scout for us at the same time, and each of them takes cover up ahead at the wide boulevard and in the stalls of an abandoned plaza.

The gunners in the second rank also spread out but stay far back from the first line of troops, with one heavy machine gunner crossing rooftops on the right.

In the middle is me, standing above just about everybody and with decent firepower of my own; I can rotate the Oku's guns to fire at anything I please.

The last rank protects the rear of the formation; their heavy machine gunner scales the left set of rooftops, and, because he's closer than the other, I see that he's equipped with grappling hooks that extend out of holes in his armor. While I'm watching both gunners soar through the air above us, I get that call again—

"Miss Aaliyah! Why didn't you answer the first time? Something horrible's happened!"

It's her. Mau'Oku made it through after all.

"Mau, this is a tampered call! The longer you keep talking to me, the more likely you could be compromised."

"...You're right—but, Miss Aaliyah, I have to tell you something!"

"No, Mau."

I end the call, but she sends me a message on my Kom Cell shortly following that:

"I have everything on that bad man, Aaliyah. All thanks to you."

"ORDER HER TO SEND YOU WHAT SHE'S UNCOVERED."

Maxwell already knows, but, hopefully, he didn't find out more than he needs to.

"SUSPECT MAU'OKU PLACED A CALL FROM COORDINATES 1.45.2.D-5.4. HER LOCATION IS IN ZONE D, ON DRAIDEN STREET. ONE OF MY EYES IS THERE.

"IF YOU DO NOT OBEY ME, I WILL SEND OFF A CODE TO ALERT MY TROOPS TO HER LOCATION."

"Your troops?"

"FULFILL THE REQUEST, COMMANDER AALIYAH."

We start to turn the corner as I send a message to Mau'Oku, and the next boulevard becomes a one-way street. By the time we cover half of it, the other half's completely overgrown with dark green algae, and the rest of the Zone begins to seriously resemble a swamp. The street breaks off into roads tainted by debris, into dozens of brick-built hovels along with partially-obscured paths that lead in more than one direction.

We don't take long here because it's too out in the open, and so Fifth Platoon heads toward one of the roads to the West when a group of civilians steps out from an alley close to the middle rank—close to me!

Men of all ages, both Hayashi and human, move in on the Oku with the same rifles wielded by ordinary Knights.

They start shooting:

Bullets ricochet hard off the Oku's shell, bumping it back slightly with every hit.

Before all five of the guerilla fighters can begin to retreat, Vohan appears in front of one and thrusts his lance through the rebel's skull. Vohan tries to retrieve the rest of his weapon from the bleeding center of his first target, but the body comes with it, and that weighs him down enough for the rest of the rebels to concentrate their firepower his way.

From above the machine gunners, and a long distance behind us, a sniper round cuts through another rebel, and Lor stabs a third through her breastplate.

The fourth target stumbles backward and into the scope of another Knight, who snipes her, and both Shavo and Den charge against bullets to strike at their last opponent's body armor repeatedly.

On almost every Ministry-issued rifle, there's a function that converts the weapon into a canon. When this function is selected, you can only fire one round before ruining the rifle. Any attempts to use the same weapon again can land the user in the hospital or the grave.

The last rebel fires a canonized round with enough energy to light up the place.

It homes in on Vohan, then it melts his top half.

It strikes the ground behind him, containing the residual energy to make a small explosion!

"Fucking Avva!" Shavo screams. He takes out a handgun like the one given to me by Mau'Oku.

The rebel drops his weapon and raises his hands to surrender, but Shavo splatters his head without hesitation.

"Come on!" Den shouts while urging everyone to push forward, and he quickly calls on his SPEC.N, "Man down! Right before the Interstate! Contact the Fifth Captain for reinforcements right away!"

"Got it. But there's no telling if he'll send another platoon. Hold out, soldier!" says the speaker on the other end of the line.

"Roger. Out."

Before we cross a wider, adjacent boulevard that's covered, like every other building here, in dead moss, Den stops at the corner of a brick house and cautiously peers around the corner.

He points forward; Shavo and one rifleman cross the divide, taking positions opposite of them. They split to cover both sectors of the boulevard. Den joins another rifleman, and the two of them cross and take a northbound position—

Then Den waves me forward.

I move the Oku into the middle of the road, and he sends the signal for me to halt with an open hand.

The rest of the platoon starts to move across, with one machine gunner covering the boulevard from both east and west as the other covers the rear of the formation.

We're about to move on. The way ahead will lead to one of the Intersection's stations and cruiser docking points, but it's also meant to be the one place which visitors can rest at while being able to reach any location within Zone H by hyper rails that intersect and circle all up and down the center of the Zone.

Akashira's not far ahead...

A young boy approaches the Oku with a girl who's most likely his sister.

The Knights panic; they all take aim at the two of them.

I don't get it right away, and I only see two kids, both in matching blue thermals and khaki pants. The boy is a little older, and he reaches out, toward the machine, while dozens of feet away.

Den goes at them before I can react. Every other soldier calls for him to stop, but Den brushes them off.

"They're just regular kids caught in the fuckin' wreckage."

"Den!" Shavo calls while trying to stop himself from shaking. "You remember what Sergeant Harnold told us—I know you do! Don't you dare treat any of these bastards with mercy!"

"Shut the fuck up! We're not heartless beasts."

I flashback to the boy who shot Tavon... who Tavon killed—

And I realize that Den's wrong.

The boy's still heading toward him, though he seems scared, too, and the anxiety's making my voice shake.

"HEY!" my cry's strengthened by the Oku's speaker. "Don't go near him!"

"Nonsense. I'm here to h—"

I see the light, far off.

I sense the creature that's my companion. It's just a flash, but my instincts kick in—if there's eyes on us, then—

I select "Line Travel" on the Oku's terminal:

A flexible cord wraps around my stomach. An octagonal panel at the side of the mech slides away:

My seat angles itself in a heartbeat, then I'm launched out of the Oku with a tight binding kept around my body for support.

While I swing through the air and close in on Den's position, I can see that the boy's running toward us! He's getting close, and I've gotta do more to stop this!

I pull out Oku's pistol, swing upward to avoid them altogether, and I fire a round that I trace above me. I bring it behind both kids...

While the sister fails to keep up, and I start to fall toward the ground, I direct my Auto-Bullet to strike the boy through his backpack.

He cries out; I press "RETURN" on my Kom Cell so that I can trigger the Oku to reel me in before I crash. I swing wildly to the right, still maintaining a shaky view of the unfolding scene.

"No! You-you goddamned—!" I hear Den yell.

The soldiers start to gasp and then go silent as I clumsily smack onto the side of the mech prior to being pulled back into it.

Maybe I made the wrong choice.

Did I just kill an innocent kid?

I question what I've done and what's about to happen to me because of it. For once, Maxwell gives no input.

What have I done...

Once his sister catches up to him, the boy explodes.

The blast knocks Den back, knocking him unconscious; it's intense, bright, and catches fire to everything nearby—but I'm only focusing on another flash in the distance, and then I feel animalistic rage, rage that writhes deep inside my soul.

I can feel it drifting from me, through time—shit's all stopped now. The world's a red blaze, and I see a Hayashi man in a hoodie start to run for it—though I'm seein' him with a different set of eyes.

The roar of a beast sounds through the divide, and the Hayashi stranger tumbles from the balcony of a far-off building, mostly hidden by the buildup of moss. A red shape covers his body. His cries shock everyone into attention.

"Remote detonation." Shavo announces.

He looks around nervously, then he makes another call on his SPEC.N: "Everyone cross! We'll only have to cover the North and South. There's no heat clusters ahead close enough to hurt us, so let's keep on!"

I'm the last one to move from the opening into the wide, ugly, grey, and square docking station that takes up way more space than it should. Beyond that, the hyper rails and everything around them becomes pipes and metal beams which never saw the end of construction. The area ahead turns into a mess of scrap metal that's part of a greater highway system; it arcs down to connect with a small and regular hyper rail that terminates at a lesser station. From there, the lower end of Zone H becomes an even worse entanglement of rails that all round out into different districts.

We travel through the smaller station, which is also sparse and empty, and our chosen hyper rail curves down as its steel walls rise slightly from each side. Fifth Platoon halves its numbers and separates itself into two forces, interspaced columns that crouch against both walls for shelter while continuing.

The passage here looks more and more like a steep descent, and the rain around us joins with a dense fog that makes the way ahead close to unseeable.

One of the machine gunners has traded weapons with another soldier in order to strap Den's body to his back. Den's been stripped of his armor, and this exposes him as a beefy fella with a bald head and a black-grey beard.

To be honest, I'm not convinced that he's gonna make it.

Shavo speaks quietly on his SPEC.N.:

"Sergeant, someone else's been hit. Please, we need every platoon out here. The thick of it's close to Vartrue."

"You fuckin' recruits all sound the fuckin' same!

"Soldier, we've got eyes on the way there—snipers and Zomas on every vantage point, every fuckin' hyper rail above and before Vartrue. You're MORE than ready to take out some fuckin' rail pirates!"

"I understand, but we still need more men if we wanna take the fight to them!"

"That's not how the Fifth Captain wants to proceed. Listen to the commands passed down through your leadership, unless you'd like to face severe repercussions—okay, soldier?"

"Yes, Sergeant!"

"Finish them off. Prove your honor and show those civilian pussies why they shouldn't fuck with us!"

"Roger!"

Shavo ends the call, then he acknowledges me:

"Hot one," he points to specific hyper rail west of us, one that's higher than hundreds of others intersecting below it.

Shavo tells me, "Akashira Village is beyond that point. From there, miss, it's a straight shot—but you could probably get by on your Zoma!"

"I'm gonna have to."

I start to turn, nearly forgetting that this goof just called me "hot one," and then I remember what I shouldn't be forgetting in the first place—

"You're still advancing into Vartrue without my backup? And with a wounded man?"

"Ma'am," he steps closer and tries to silence me with his hand, "the Knights can't fail. Once we've committed to overcoming an objective, we have to give it everything we've got."

"Funny you say that,' I cut back, "because the 'Knights' that looked Noboros in the face made a run for it."

"If that's true, then they're due for execution—but their actions are their own, and there could've be a plan in place."

"Shavo, you should retreat."

"I won't. I'm not a fucking coward."

He shouts to Fifth Platoon: "We'll cover more ground and stop at Station-H.5, right before Vartrue, for another spot check. The Sergeant's original strategy is still in effect. Come on!"

It's not good to stay in one place for too long, and so we part ways quickly.

I thrust the Oku into the air...

To land on a rail several feet away from the tallest highway; I boost it again, before its steel legs screech and puncture metal, then I launch forward and down to lightly tap on the middle of a third rail. One more time, and this boost pushes me high through the air, with moss-covered roads appearing and completing the image of another world existing within the Citadel. I prepare to burst the Oku to the peak of the final hyper rail, and I spring off just as—

Another Zoma appears to my right and follows close behind!

Both of our mechs soar forward and then up. I look back in time to see two light machineguns aimed at me from the front of the Zoma.

I control two legs to wrap around a lower rail, then I let go, flying close to them while they fire on me.

Sparks rain overhead. I bring the Oku into a spin that changes my position; I launch toward my enemy now, but the Zoma slows, a portal opens in its side, and the pilot comes flying out in blue robes and with a cord trailing behind him. He hefts a long-barreled and scoped canon on his right shoulder.

He's close to pulling the trigger once I evacuate:

The strong jerk that throws me through the air makes me dizzy enough so that I almost drop my weapon. Before I totally recover, the attacker shoots a missile that hisses past and crashes into the head of the Oku!

The glass covering shatters; my mech's blasted away, with my own cord still long enough to brace the drop.

I'm headed toward the enemy now, with the Oku falling to the depths behind me, soon to pull me along for the ride. He drops his canon to grab his pistol, but I swing in and send a precise kick his way.

I bury my foot into his groin, stopping us both in place for a second, and then I'm yanked backward, scrambling to line up my gun with his head. My Kom Cell's blinking with some prompt from the Oku itself, but I can't see anything that's not the sky while I'm being dragged down—

I shoot.

I control the trajectory of the Auto-Bullet, arcing it downward; I see the assassin's smug smile before the camera disappears into his chest.

The Zoma's pilot hangs lifelessly, and his mech's ignored for so long that it plummets into the Lower-City, bringing him with it. The floor below me opens into a great passage, eating everything that passes through it and showing nothing but a black hole at the end.

The Oku suddenly stops its descent and digs into the side of an iron wall before it reels me inside of it. It projects black cushions to protect me from the broken glass, and I land, just a little better than last time, on my ass and in front of the terminal.

"ENTERING CRISIS MODE.

"OKU MODEL TWO WILL REMAIN AT REDUCED CAPACITY UNTIL ALL POWER HAS BEEN DEPLETED. USER PROTECTION IS THE PRIORITY."

The Oku straps me in, and then I crawl to the bottom of the Mid-City.
7

The Spirit Lyceum

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

WHILE THE OKU SCALES THE REST OF THE WAY, I get a file on General Orito from Mau'Oku. Though I've ignored him, Maxwell's still creepin' for information.

I reach the wooden floor of an open lobby with steel walls and little light, except for individual squares that shine brightly and then dim in cycles. A long corridor stretches out ahead. I move the Oku as far as I can until I hear a faint "pop" from the inside of it.

A louder bang resounds within the engine, then the Oku stoops forward.

My Kom Cell disconnects from the mech. The terminal shuts down...

Mau'Oku's prototype barely lasted the journey. Now I'm not sure I have a way back. By the time I've stepped outside the mech, a thick stream of smoke draws out the back of the Oku; following that, I see small cracks appear all throughout it. I can't believe this thing sustained that much damage—wait... no. There's something else that's gotta be wrong.

Mau'Oku calls my Kom Cell. It feels wrong to answer, but I do.

"It was you." she says.

"..."

"I'm not stupid, lady. I know what you did. You gave yourself away, and now you're gonna pay for it, you evil witch."

"What are you talking about, kid?"

"I know someone else tried to track my location on our last call. I thought it was just the Bureau crackin' down on rebels, but...

"But the identity of the signal that tracked me is the same code that accessed the file I sent you on Orito! That means—that means...

"Ugh. You're working together. You planned this all along! They took away Rashumi! They took away everybody, all because of you!"

"That's not true!"

It is true.

"Maybe I'm being tracked against my wishes, kid. How can you claim to know what you can't?"

"If you wanted the intel so bad, lady, then why did you wait so long—and why did someone else get to it first when it was only meant for you?"

"Look, kid... hmm." I sigh. I can't keep playing things this way.

"You're right," I tell her. "Your little ring got busted because of me."

"Wicked lady. Wicked, stupid, petty lady—and after all the help I gave you! We did everything we could to help. It was for the right reasons, you witch!"

I continue on while trying to defend myself:

"Rashumi was operating a terrorist cell, Oku. That makes him no better than the rioters in Zone H."

Oku's face appears on the screen; she uses this time to glare at me, then she says:

"I'll never forgive you for getting them all sent to Prison. I'll get you back for this—for all of this! You'll pay, witch."

Maxwell ends the call, giving me no time to react, and his voice vibrates through the interior—

"GENERAL ORITO'S PERSONNEL RECORD HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY UPLOADED AND STORED WITHIN MY MEMORY. ALL PROCESSED MEMORIES COINCIDE WITH WHAT MY EYES HAVE SEEN."

"Find anything interesting?"

"I HAVE COME TO A SINGULAR AND IMPORTANT CONCLUSION ABOUT SUBJECT ORITO:

"ORITO WAS PROMOTED TO GENERAL LAST YEAR. AROUND THE SAME TIME OF HIS INDUCTION, ORITO LOST CUSTODY OF HIS SON DUE TO ACCUSATIONS OF CHILD ABUSE. CRITICISM PREVAILED LONG INTO ORITO'S CAMPAIGN FOR GENERAL. ANOTHER OFFICIAL, GENERAL LUSANI, PUBLICLY DENOUNCED ORITO AS A POSSIBLE CHOICE.

"ALL AT ONCE, GENERAL LUSANI CHANGED HIS MIND, ENDORSED ORITO, AND COMMITTED SUICIDE A WEEK AFTER HIS ENDORSEMENT. ORITO'S WIFE ALSO DROPPED HER CHARGES. SHE SETTLED FOR A DIVORCE, AND ORITO WAS SUBSEQUENTLY MADE A GENERAL.

"ORITO IS IN CHARGE OF ALL KNIGHTS STATIONED WITHIN ZONE H."

"That sounds strange. Maybe he paid Lusani off for the position?"

"UNLIKELY. ORITO HAD INCURRED SIGNIFICANT DEBT BEFORE HIS INDUCTION, AND HE'S USED NEARLY A FOURTH OF HIS ALLOTTED FUNDS TO TAKE CARE OF HIS PERSONAL LOANS.

"THIS CONSTITUTES A GROSS MISUSE OF MINISTRY FUNDS, WITH ANOTHER PORTION HAVING BEEN GIVEN OVER TO A COMPANY THAT SPECIALIZES IN THE SALE OF PAINTINGS.

"GENERAL ORITO'S FILE REVEALS NO INFORMATION AS TO WHY HE WOULD DONATE GOVERNMENT FUNDS TO A PRIVATE BUSINESS."

"You don't know why he's doing it, but you can have him arrested, right?"

"CORRECT. PROVISION OF EVIDENCE FROM THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF THE BUREAU IS ENOUGH TO DETAIN ORITO...

"HOWEVER, DATA GATHERED SO FAR SUGGESTS A MORE EFFICIENT OPTION."

"What's that?"

"I BELIEVE, COMMANDER, THAT GOING FURTHER INTO THEIR WORLD, WITHOUT GIVING THEM A REASON FOR SUSPICION, WOULD PUT US IN THE BEST POSITION TO DISCOVER OTHERS WHO MIGHT HAVE MANIPULATED THE SITUATION IN ZONE H.

"COMMANDER AALIYAH, THE DAWN KNIGHTS IN ZONE H HAVE THE RESOURCES TO PREVENT DEVIANCE FROM SPREADING, BUT, FOR REASONS UNKNOWN, THEY HAVE BEEN LED TO DO NOTHING. IF WE DISCOVER WHY THIS IS, THE DAWN BUREAU MAY BE GIVEN A SPOT ABOVE ALL OTHER BRANCHES OF AUTHORITY."

I discover a carpeted lobby with two counters on either side, four Knights standing guard by the front entrance, and three Zomas patrolling in specific marching patterns outside.

"WE CAN BE ABOVE THEM." Maxwell's voice trails off as one of the Knights comes toward me.

These soldiers are of a much different caliber than those I've seen so far. For one, each of them is decked out in white armor that's much bigger and probably heavier than their typical getups, and every part of it juts out as a separate, bulky piece—especially their shoulder plates, which consist of rounded, golden balls set above horizontal pads and with small gaps in between them that expose their grey sarashis underneath.

"A woman?" the only knight with an arrow mark on his helmet says to me, "How did you get down here?"

"I jumped."

"Heh." He chuckles. "No really—citizen, how did you reach this part of Zone H? The way behind you's a—"

"Warzone, I know."

"Huh?" he gasps. "There's no way you made it through alone!"

"You're right. Fifth Platoon was brave enough to show me the way."

"Fifth Platoon?" he stutters, "W-wait. You mean, Fifth Platoon from Raijin Company? They only sent one platoon in after the last guys?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"Fuck!"

He stomps and turns away from me to speak to the other Knights, "Did you hear that? Raijin Company still hasn't advanced!"

"What the fuck," one of them grumbles.

"That's bullshit! It's like they're just sendin' them in to die now!"

These guys don't seem to acknowledge rank. They're more laid back than the other Knights.

Their leader acknowledges me again while removing his helmet. He's a younger-looking guy, handsome, with a shaven mug, bright green eyes, and long, blond hair that parts in the middle.

"The Fifth Captain sends in impossibly small elements to deal with all the gangbangers and terrorists in Zone H, and then he wonders why the Knights make no progress against the enemy. He's creating senseless bloodshed, and—"

He pauses when looking me over.

"You're with the government, aren't you?"

"The Bureau, actually."

"The Dawn Bureau?" He frowns. "That explains how someone like you could've gotten here, but how come it's only you, ma'am?"

"Because I'm the Commander, that's why, and there's some bad shit brewing, clearly."

"You've been sent to stop domestic terrorists by yourself?"

"That's what happens when you guys take control of other branches of government. Your people have jurisdiction over mine presently, which doesn't leave us with much room to do anything."

"Well, Commander, I hope you can do something."

He points at the other two. "We're some of the strongest Knights in the Ministry—I'm a Champion. And this whole time, ma'am, our command's had us sit out of the fight!"

Another speaks up, "We've had to wait down here without anyone telling us what's going on... I wonder, every day, if another group of us is getting sent to their deaths. I can't sleep like this."

"What's the situation looking like here?"

"Stable." the Knight in front replies. "Whole place is turnin' into a bog, and we're guarding a school for fish people, but, you know, things could be worse." He shrugs. "We could be told to storm Vartrue with the fuckin' three of us."

"Who's the highest-ranking person down this way?"

"Ha! Did you hear that, guys?" He glances back. "She thinks they actually put someone in charge of the measly damned numbers they stationed here!"

"You're in charge, Champion Ristophon!" the other two say together.

He scratches his head and then sighs. "That's technically true."

"It's just you?"

He nods. "And eighteen other guys who don't do anything but guard a bunch of schoolkids."

"You cover all of Akashira with just nineteen men?"

"Like I said," his smile betrays some bitterness, "we're here to guard one thing: the Spirit Lyceum."

My curiosity lights up.

"Is it close?"

\-------

Outside of the ground station, Zone H's surface is a dark grassland that leads down a hill and into twenty different fogged valleys, which themselves lead through rows of old-fashioned, mostly wooden houses. When I step into Akashira, I feel like I've stepped back in time—or, at least, into a village from the World Below. The plains become hilly and roll down for miles, and the steel ceiling of another, faraway Zone looms overhead, makin' it appear as if the world itself has a ceiling.

There's a westmost point, where the grassland curves up and joins with a foundation of alloy and earth to create a cliff that's close to stretching out from the bounds of the Citadel. Its position allows tourists, if there were any tourists, to stand on its plateau, overlook the cliff, and watch the clouds race beside the Floating City. At about the center of this plateau, there's a huge, silver tree that spirals in on itself and has grown to be the highest point of Akashira.

This "tree" is, in reality, a work of art and is large enough to contain dozens of rooms inside of it, including sleeping quarters, a kitchen, an observatory, a library, and a classroom.

The Spirit Lyceum glows above the rest of Akashira with a foreboding and yet tempting aura. It's like an invitation to adventure, and I immediately feel like investigating.

"Not too long ago, ma'am," Ristophon says while accompanying me there, "the Knights made a push for Akashira Village. We lost a lot of people just to get a small group stationed closer to the Fourth Quadrant. In the end, those of us who made it were told that the Lyceum was the most important place in all of Zone H.

"Tch..." He shakes his head. "I think we're here for political reasons. This is the Hayashi's only 'historic' school in the Citadel, and we're losing soldiers over it to protect the feelings of fucking fish."

"That's enough," I tell him, and he actually listens. "The Hayashi are not the reason that Knights get killed out here. You said it yourself about the Fifth Captain—"

"Please don't repeat what I told you." His sad eyes meet mine. "I'm just... tired, ma'am."

\-------

The entrance to the Spirit Lyceum is carved out of the tree, which looks even more monstrous once I'm closer. Right when I move toward the flat, featureless door, I hear a child screaming.

"No more, Mr. Hero! No more!"

A brown-haired girl, unusually tall for her age, runs my way from behind the Lyceum, and an older man in a white robe follows behind.

"No more!" she says again, "You're all jerks!"

"Anatilda!" he shouts after her, and, when I look at him more clearly...

It's him. Down in this place, where he said he'd be. The guy who's not supposed to exist...

"Professor Husashi!"

He doesn't acknowledge me and instead touches Anatilda's shoulder.

"Ay, yo!" I hear another voice I recognize, "Let her be, old man."

"Shush! Nonsense, boy!"

Husashi's beard is way longer than before. I can just see what looks like fangs when he scowls at Lance.

"She's so close to reaching her potential—much further along than you!"

"Professor Husashi!"

Both Lance and the Professor finally notice my presence; their hesitation allows Anatilda to escape back inside the Lyceum.

"I'm not a traditional professor, by any means, and I'm not familiar with the name of which you speak."

"Yo!" L interrupts us and points at me, "How the fuck did you get here so quick? How did you know about this place, lady? What, you undercover again—tryna bust people like you busted Dom Secundus?"

"I didn't bust those fools." I lie.

"Husashi, you told me that we would meet in Zone H. I didn't know you ran the Lyceum, though!"

"My name is Mr. Heroclitus, miss, and we have never met."

"What? No—I-I definitely recognize you! It is you!"

This has to be another one his tests.

When Husashi put my class through his "Examination," he was able to shift our realities in more than one kind of way. Every dream he showed me seemed real, and my time spent studying in that class felt like days. Surviving Husashi's nightmares meant passing the course, and I was lucky to make it through with my sanity somewhat intact.

I smile, brimmin' with real confidence, and throw attention back on him: "You can't play with me this time, Husashi. I know all of your tricks now, so you've gotta show me what I need to know to keep up with the heavy hitters, okay?"

He sighs and droops over.

"Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about...

"What's more, miss, is that I don't understand why you're here in the first place. Who are you?"

I'm getting tired of his bullshit.

"What did you do to that girl?" I step closer to confront him. "Husashi, I don't like how she looked. What'd you do to make her look that way?"

"Ay!" L shouts at me.

I'm about to snap on him before he says, "I can show you what's been goin' on here! I'm a student now, Aali."

"Aaliyah!"

"Yeah-yeah, I got you, shawty; come look, though, cause this game of Ki-K is startin' to get heavy!"

"Fool, what the hell is Ki-K?"

"Pupil Lance, you are not permitted to disclose details of the instructions delivered by the Lyceum—"

"Sounds just like something Professor Husashi would say."

"Uh... Hmph! Lady, I'm afraid that I'll have to ask you to le—"

"Come on, Commander Aali!" L runs toward the back of the school, and I follow without giving any more respect to that liar.

"Commander?" he exclaims in what has to be faked confusion as the two of us rush ahead of him.

\-------

I've never heard of "Ki-K" in my life, but, then again, my mom sheltered me from the world was when I was a lot younger, and most of what I know comes from my experiences in the Mid-City.

Both sides of the Lyceum tree are sloped, with patchy earth that gets denser as the path in front of it turns into a trail around an even bigger building than what I originally imagined. Of course, the underside is covered completely in bright green moss, and the rest of the way appears more like a forest than the very edge of a hazardous cliff.

But this cliff's been extended.

A field of netite stretches out from the center of it, flowing across a mile of air and with navy waves acting as insulation around a synthetic game yard.

"Check it out, traitor lady—since you wanna be so nosy—I'll fill you in real quick, but it's just because you're poppin', lil mama, and I hope you'll remember how gracious the mack is when—"

"LANCE, shut up and tell me what these kids are up to!"

"Okay-okay, got it!"

I'm studying the game field, and I witness about twenty kids of all ages, mostly Hayashi—and with the youngest being a small Hayashi boy in blue cleats.

They've split into teams of ten, both sides having spread out into two opposing rows. They face each other and hold what I mistake for rubber kickballs, but all of them are dark red—except for a blue ball marked with two white lines. The team nearest to us has the blue one in their possession, and two members stand as guards for the kid carrying it.

"The one with the Ei has to reach the other side without being hit, and he can only toss the Ei side-to-side..."

Every player suddenly levitates up as their boots transform into small jets and keep them floating over the game field.

"Those are fueled by Aspy Coal," the lying Professor explains, "and, as such, their white flames are too low a temperature to hurt anyone. The boots they use are made from moa."

The player holding the "Ei" responds to someone from the other team telling him to hurry and takes a step back while preparing to throw it.

"If the guy throwin' the Ei catches up to the ball, and his throw is counted good, then the match ends, and they get three points." L says, "A regular run to the other team's home base nets you two points, and nailin' the motherfucker who threw the Ei with a ball gets you a point but bans the player who hit him.

"Tch. Shit moves too fast for me."

"I bet it does."

The Ei's thrown, and the game of Ki-K begins:

The two bodyguards are the first ones to be targeted.

L continues to explain, telling me that throws can be blocked, except for throws made with the Ei, and so the two tall teenagers at the head of the formation dive through a flurry of balls, trying to block what they can't evade in time.

One of them gets hit just as the original thrower retreats behind two other guards and pushes their group forward while the rest of the team rushes to catch the Ei.

The shortest teenager of all manages to skate past everyone else and is the first to catch it—

He keeps the advance on for the same side, dancing around a younger kid who misses and strikes the ground just as he races by. On his way to the end of the field, he ducks to dodge another ball thrown his way, and then he nearly somersaults while trying to stay upright and hover at once.

Before he makes it to the enemy's home base, the boy's intercepted by a chubby, red-headed kid and tackled from the side; in that same instant, he tosses the Ei up—

And someone else on his team grabs it, racing to victory.

She makes it there just as a bigger teenage girl stumbles and falls behind her.

Their teacher shouts: "Two for Cyano's team! Anatilda's team is down by three, and Cyano's team needs one more point to win! Remember to rely on your inner strength!"

"The two fellas who keep guardin' so good be Esbon and Doego. Both are close to my age, seventeen, and they stay cool with the main man holdin' the Ei, Kasen. Though he's a little smaller, he's kinda like their ringleader."

Esbon's guarding from the right. Like the others, he's all padded-up in blue, and I notice, in his face, that the younger Hayashi don't seem to have the same cracked skin. The tops of his cheeks are covered with dark freckles. He's the tallest out of all of them, with Doego being the second biggest player in the game. Doego's shorter but wider, making the three of them an interesting pair to gawk at.

Once the game commences, Cyano's team doesn't charge in like last time. Anatilda's lead runners race the same route as usual, and—

Cyano's team stops in place, letting the fastest of them, the same small kid from before, dash far ahead of their main force.

"That's Cyano," L says, "he's the best player."

"How haven't they caught him?"

"Don't know."

Cyano gets past everyone but one lone, skinny Hayashi at the end. Even from where I stand, I can see that he's shaking while he stands to block Cyano. With Cyano being only a few dozen feet away, I figure it's gotta be nothin' for him to go around, but Cyano's more arrogant than I think. He keeps heading straight.

There's a change in the atmosphere.

Before I give it my full attention, my instincts tell me to watch their teacher's reaction first—because it seems like he knows the same thing they do, and both me and L are out of the loop.

He's... happy.

"This should have a delightful conclusion."

I look back to watch as Cyano finally reaches his opponent.

"What's Xonshu doing?" L says to himself.

Cyano faces down Xonshu... and then—

Time halts...

Everything goes into a stasis that steadily unravels, and I'm watching it all happen without knowing if I trust what I'm seeing.

An amaranthine fog collects and flows from Xonshu's navel:

Liquid spills from its center as the small face of a furred beast emerges. Its head's narrow and bent, crooked at the snout's end, with ragged black hairs all around.

The beast opens its mouth, and the sides of it are lined with columns and rows of fangs that don't fit right where they are. Because of this, there are fresh cuts across its lips from having accidentally bitten itself. From behind its narrow head, its body is similar to a rodent's but three times the size of any human; this makes its head seem small in comparison to a fat mid-section, where more than one pair of claws comes out along its spine.

Odd energy circles the rodent, causing the thing to change into what looks like a shadow of itself, with eyes that turn from yellow to red when focusing in on Cyano.

"X-Xonshu!" Cyano gasps while letting go of the Ei, "What are you doing?"

"Kill him! Kill him now, Zondes!" Xonshu goes completely pale as he shrieks.

They're both too far for me to do anything!

But I see another Face. The one that stays with me now, and, this sounds messed up, but I feel its presence. I can feel a monster next to me—no, he's not next to me! At least, I think it's a "he."

My companion, the red panda, is closing in on the creature Xonshu named "Zondes." Before Xonshu notices, he's already trying to make a run for it.

I sprint to catch up to them.

Zondes rears back—

But the red panda clamps its jaws around Zondes' neck in the blink of an eye!

The rat demon cries out as my companion sinks its teeth deeper and deeper. Zondes punches it in the abdomen using the arms of one pair, but the red panda reacts by shining a brighter ruby.

It wraps the rest of its body around Zondes and, with ease, brings the rat to the ground while keeping a hold on its neck. Before Zondes can make any other moves, the red panda cocks its head to the side:

It breaks Zondes' neck, and the sound of bones cracking rings through the air...

Xonshu's monster stops moving, then it bursts into a brown smoke, but I'm still in pursuit of Xonshu. I'm on him before he can use his jet boots to get away!

I grab one of his arms and stare him down.

"Don't do it. You'll only get yourself in more trouble."

He's breathin' hard. His face goes purple as he tries to respond. Xonshu's eyebrows twitch involuntarily.

"I-I c—" he coughs, "can summon him a-again."

"Yeah? What's he gonna do when he meets me, huh? I'll send him right back to where he came from—it's 'Xonshu,' isn't it?"

"I-I didn't have a choice, lady—you don't understand! I didn't mean to do any of this!"

"You tried to kill a student. You're just a kid, and you're out here trying kill other kids? Why?"

I get down on one knee to really look at him, but it seems like he's more terrified now.

It's not because of me.

His eyes search behind me as he keeps talking, "I-I think I made Mr. Heroclitus mad. I swear I just did what they told me to do!"

"Who?"

"He's gonna be so mad at me. You don't get it. You don't—"

His teacher's behind me.

When I look in his direction...

Shit. I don't believe it. I don't believe I can see this now, and how couldn't I before? Every kid is still standing in place, watching, and next to them...

There's a different beast for each person. Every animal near their owner is swirling with flames and fogs of different shades. Some of them are hideous, corrupted versions of pests or insects. Some look intelligent, with humanoid faces which shine with light and huge feathers behind them. Still others are like giants among us.

Esbon's pet beast, being the biggest of the bunch, has the head of a bull, with eight curved horns and three eyes, but its body is in the shape of a muscular ape's, and, from its back, it sprouts dark wings. Each animal is unique unto itself; also, for the first time, I'm able to permanently see my own.

Its body shrinks to resemble a raccoon's, but its fur still glimmers red. As it walks toward me, so, too, does the guy who calls himself Heroclitus.

I'm about to lower myself to try to interact with my animal, to understand what it is and why it's here, but he interrupts by standing right in front of me, instantly making me uncomfortable.

"Detective Aaliyah, remember when I told you that there are some things that you have yet to truly understand?"

I relent and decide to talk to hi—

His eyes are black. They've both got two white, circular lines that spiral into each other, and there's a horrible, horrible aura coming from him. Meeting his gaze is my biggest mistake, the same one I made with Eyes From The Void, and now the real world's disappeared, replaced by nothing but an empty, colorless room.

It's just me and him, and my last thought is if my companion was trying to save me from this fate.
8

Respect

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"ZONE H WILL BELONG TO THE SHIKON CLAN.

"Had the Bureau made their move before martial law was enacted, perhaps the outcome would have been very different, but I suppose that this is what humans wanted."

"You can't keep trying to fuck with me, Husashi. Get me out of this place. Now."

He's not afraid. I'm not totally sure if I can move.

I can't. He's got me stuck in another goddamned trip—this mothafucka is triflin' in everything that he does.

"What the hell was the point of all this, Professor?"

"Unfortunately, I am no longer your 'Professor'—not after what you've witnessed. From here onward, detective, you will fulfill a task I cannot accomplish without your assistance. Consider this my gift to you in return to both your obedience and due diligence as a student."

"Who said I had to do a job for you, huh?"

"You wanted to learn how to become stronger, didn't you, my dear?"

A sharp jolt causes my head to ache, then I—

\-------

I don't know how long I was out, but it doesn't feel like much before I'm opening my eyes and getting up to stand on an open stretch of concrete. It spans skyscrapers constructed in petite, creative shapes: sparkling grey globes, ships aimed toward the sky, and skinny, black columned towers with life-sized, white tigers or lions adorning their tops.

Besides those features, this world feels empty. White fog obscures all paths. I could probably walk forever and keep seeing the same scenery for miles and miles.

I smell something burning in the air. The wind's strong, cold, and triggers my thermal suit to heat up as I proceed, not entirely sure of which way is right. I go north, though every building seems to repeat indefinitely.

Above me, I hear Husashi's voice:

"You are the last pawn I shall use. I expect you to serve me well."

What he says makes me furious, and I'm more than compelled to tell him to fuck off.

"I'm not playing any fucking games with you, Husashi. I won't let you take over my mind—my thoughts belong to me."

At once, I clench my fists and close my eyes. I focus on my breathing, in the same way I do whenever firing a handgun, and I force my heartbeat to slow down as I clear my head. Inward corruption is something that can slip by you, but I've experienced it so many times that I've learned to seek out Husashi whenever he hides himself within my mind.

It feels like a parasite's taken over. I'm wading through a mess of thoughts, trying to find the source of this madness.

When I still can't sense him, I work harder to relax, remembering to loosen up as well. My eyes stay closed, and I float through ideas and past conversations which sound distorted and unfinished.

I drift on...

Husashi's at the center of a spinning platform. He keeps the area lightless so that I can't see him clearly, but he's laughing.

It's somethin' real wicked. Husashi's so proud of what he's done, but I'm aiming to get payback. If conquering me is an accomplishment, then I must be better than he'll admit—which means that I stand a good chance of regaining control. I strut toward him, and the room comes alight so quick that I'm blinded!

"Oh, come now," he says, "you can't resist wisdom forever. I've so much more to show you—"

Husashi and this world evaporate.

Shit. This is too much.

\-------

"Ay, Commander Lady! You aight? You good, girl?"

"Huh?"

Why do I feel so tired? It's painful to try to look around, but... I-I think I'm standing. I don't know how I managed it, but I must've passed out while still upright—

"Lady! Hey! Yo!"

Some stupid kid is snappin' his hand at me all disrespectfully. I'm thinking about slapping him, but I hear other people whispering around us.

"She's gotta be on it—y'see how she be actin' right now?" an older dude says behind me.

"Yeah, I'm checkin' it. Government's really going to shit nowadays, huh?"

"Did you just fade on us, lady?"

Without even being conscious of it, I've been hovering over L this whole time, and he's chillin' in a leather black chair way too big for him, which is also half-circled by a mixer table that comes complete with a studio set up.

L's facing a two-way mirror, studying a bald Hayashi in sleeveless body armor and cargo pants. He starts to spit, distracting me from L and the other twelve Hayashi fellas I've never seen before:

"I'm the panty-dropper,

"I pull up on you like a heart-stopper.

"Roll it, light it up, and stay a happy shopper.

"I'm the number one sella,

"And everybody cops,

"Cashflow runneth forever,

"And I laugh, like a king, when the enemy drops."

I glance at L, "What the hell is this place?"

"You forgot already? Aren't you s'posed to be a detective or somethin'?"

"Ay, man," I hear one of the strangers getting restless, "why the fuck we lettin' a cop take a peek at our lives like this?"

"Easy!" Lance shouts at him. "This, right here, is a lady that ya'll be talkin' about!"

"'Lady's' a snitch, too." another of them retorts.

"Yeah, well, the Bureau's in the house, up in Sun Studio. Check it out, ya'll: she's got a direct line back to the government, so, if any of ya'll fuck up, it could shut down shit for good!"

"Then why did you bring her here?"

"Why did you bring me here, Lance? What happened?"

"Yo, who the fuck is 'Lance?' Why's she callin' him 'Lance?' I don't like this."

"Calm down, fellas." L says to all of them, "Nobody wants the Federation on our asses—and, detective lady, how can you not remember? You started to arrest Husashi, then he was just, like, smilin' about the whole thing. He didn't take you serious, and then somethin' came up that reminded me of the Sun Studio—and-and I asked if you wanted to come check it out."

"I agreed to that?"

There's no way he can be serious.

"Hell yeah! You was buggin' and tweakin', though. You looked real shook after what you said. Change your mind about arresting him or something?"

"No. More like he made me change my mind without my permission—what is the Sun Studio supposed to be?"

"There she goes askin' questions,"—they're still murmuring to each other—"why the fuck's she even in this place, and why the fuck's she allowed to be askin' questions?"

"Stupid bitch. She needs to shut her mouth!"

The commotion starts to pick up, and then people start calling for "the Crown."

They've all circled around me, movin' closer and closer as they get bolder. I'm the only female aside from two gettin' high on the red studio couch in the corner of the room.

"Yo! Yo—" L puts his hands out to stop them and tries to calm the crowd.

A man with a patchy, dark beard, larger than everyone else, and with a body that's shaped like a potato, steps to us and declares, while his hand fidgets around his gun:

"The Federation abandoned us. Anybody else posin' as a cop in this district is beggin' to get shot, and the Crown owns it all, aight? You will put respect on the Crown's name now that you've got brothers callin' for his presence."

"Hey!" The only other human, a short, slender dude, with slicked-back grey hair and red shades, yells to us: "She's only down here 'cause she wants some of that gangsta love. Government bitch wants a lil' rub down from the real pros—heh! Know what I mean?"

The big guy who's confronted me turns just as the whole crowd gets quiet.

"Shut up, Tatsu'ey. We're in the presence of a motherfuckin' snitch..."

He eyes me, with his finger inching near the pistol's trigger well.

The enforcer rotates to aim at me, but I've already seen this coming—

I prepare to dash to the side, to draw my pistol when—

"Iketsun, Eyes Up!"

Every banger raises his head, straightens his posture, and makes himself small, and a section of them quickly parts as the leader of the Iketsun, the Crown, makes his way to us.

Two Hayashi, decorated with spiked pendants and white, gold, and jade piercings, lead the way ahead of him. One follows with a Knight's spear in order to guard their ringleader's back.

Both front-men separate, and it's because there's one more bodyguard that not everyone can perceive. Since I've felt my own animal's mind sync with mine, I'm starting to better see the true hearts of other people.

The last line of protection for their leader is a panther-like beast, burning with a soot-colored aura. The head of a ghoul extends from its mouth while acting as its tongue. Its face is locked in an agonized expression that remains as long as it's forced to exist. Two extra pairs of legs make a total of eight, and the Crown's personal demon prowls the floor close to us, glancing back and forth between me and Lance.

The Crown reaches down, grabs his companion's neck, and shakes it roughly. When I take a second look, I realize that the hand he's using is wholly synthetic and definitely isn't for the sake of cosmetics. Nah, dude's whole arm is a cold steel, and the same steel makes up his lower jaw. The Crown's more robust than Major Proth; adding to his pissed-off scowl, he must've lost his left eye at some point in his life—it's been replaced with a light that shines a bright, pretty blue.

"Get down, Afemeko!"

He pushes his spirit animal away, then he quickens his pace, barely giving me any time to react as he moves in.

I'm not sure if he's about to attack, but the Crown's staring down at me like he's already made up his mind.

I reach for my gun...

"Stop." The Crown puts his hand up. "There's no need for that here. Things don't need to turn violent just because you picked today to discriminate against good, working people."

"What a bullshit accusation—I'm not here to judge anyone."

"Yeah?" He raises his head.

"Look, whatever you've got going on in the background to fund this studio... that's not important to me."

"For real?"

He steps back, losing his thunder.

"Mhm. I'm tasked to work on one assignment at a time. Instead, I need to know about some girls... whoever you are?"

"Crown Gosuke." He extends his real hand toward me; I take it but continue glaring at him.

It doesn't matter how friendly he is because I'm still in danger. I've no reason to trust anyone in this place.

"There's reports of multiple girls going missing down in these parts, and I wanted to know—from you directly, Gosuke, if you have any information that you'd like to share?"

"What?" L interrupts us while tugging at my sleeve. "THAT'S what you were on about all along, lady? Miss, you shouldn't—"

"Miss, I don't know who you are or what you happen to be speaking of. Don't you see what's going on all around us?"

"Of course—"

"Oh," he exclaims, "do you? Really? I'm thinking that you don't.

"The Iketsun have been given to Hell. While we might opportunize individuals from time to time, none of these volunteers are underage—and ALL are volunteers, miss."

"You're admitting to running a prostitution ring in front of the Commander of the Bureau."

"Excuse me—what?" His inner eyebrows slant down with effort. "The fuck did you just say, miss—you're the 'Commander' of what?"

I step to him, though I know it's not a fight that's winnable.

"If you fail to cooperate with the Bureau, it would spell the end for everything you've built.

"Like I said, I don't care about your operation. I just want to know why young females are being targeted and where they're being taken, understand?"

"Boss," L pleads, "we gotta ride carefully with her. She's the one who done brought down my old gang!"

Gosuke pulls out a thick, ridged knife in the shape of a lightning bolt and holds it a few feet away from my throat.

"Then why the fuck did you bring her here, dumbass?" He exhales hard, "You thought it was cool for you to bring a spy over?"

Afemeko rears its head, snarls along with the echoes of a human groan, and stalks me from behind.

"She means well, boss! If we help her out, maybe we can get some protection against the fuckin' Knights who keep killin' off our people!"

"My people, punk!" he barks at L, "You're only a weakling recruit—a pathetic addition to the baddest motherfuckin' crew in the Citadel.

"Donating to the Sun Studio was generous of you—but that was owed, honestly; it was your entry fee so that I didn't have your little punk-ass shot."

"Y-yo, boss! You... y-you don't really mean that, right?"

I'm not sure why I feel compelled to do this, but I take the time to lecture the kid in spite of Gosuke having threatened me.

"Lance, let this be a lesson to you. Sometimes," I sneer at Gosuke, "people aren't who they say they really ar—"

The Crown throws a fast hook!

I reach out and match his speed:

I grab his fist in place, with both hands, and stop him before he even gets started. I'm letting myself lose too much control as true anger flows through me...

Gosuke kicks me in the gut, sending me back and into a kneel.

I start coughing, but the air's rushed out of me, and I can't breathe. It doesn't last long. My mind recovers from the shock, and my lungs suddenly work. The impact shook me a bit, but now the pain's not as bad. He just got in a good hit.

It takes me a minute to stand—

And my next thoughts are clouded over by bright ruby, by fire that covers my heart, and by nothing but rage. I don't hate this man; still, after everything I've gone through... shit.

I-I can't take it anymore. I let go:

Afemeko charges at me, but he's blocked by a red wall that forms at my back, concentrating primal energy into its center. This is the first time I've seen Gosuke intimidated. He cowers as my body gives off a light of its own. In contrast to ruby flames, a lilac sheen coats my skin and intersects with the aura of my spirit companion.

Not all of this rage belongs to me.

This thing is holding it in deep—I can hear the sound of its racing heartbeat. A sphere of magma shrinks while trying to contain incredible energy. In this instant alone, my vision flickers to reveal a room of other spirit beasts standing near their masters, and everyone's attention is focused on the arrival of my own friend:

The ball of fire explodes—

But it doesn't affect me. Doesn't even hurt. Instead, it sends out a shockwave that knocks everyone else off their feet. It focuses on Afemeko shortly before it rips the spirit into shreds; it erases Gosuke's beast from existence.

My spirit beast's body has grown and along with its tail, which itself spirals out in half-circles and turns, partway, into the flames continually trailing behind it. It strides toward the Crown and brings along with it the instinct to pounce. To destroy.

At the very last second, another feeling tugs at my conscience.

Mercy.

"STOP!"

I extend my hand toward the beast: darks vines sprout around my forearms. A thin, weaving forest grows and connects, and some of its rare strands have small, wooden spindles spaced out and in random spots.

When this thing appears, I see my spirit beast come to a halt; it tries to turn its neck to make eye contact. The rest of its body can't move, but it desperately wants me to release it...

I don't even know where to start!

Gosuke prevents me from thinking about my options when he raises his arms up in surrender.

"HEY! Please calm down!"

He lowers his hands and breathes a little faster, "I-I think it's safe to say that we don't want any problems with you if that's what you're packing!"

The blunt way he speaks brings me back into reality. My spirit companion makes its way over to me just as my gauntlet evaporates into nothing. Both of its tail and body shrink until the spirit's no bigger than a raccoon again, and this demon raccoon takes its place at my feet, awaiting my next move.

"I'm going give you the honest truth, miss Bureau lady—and everybody here can testify to what I tell you:

"We Iketsun are made up of everyone who got tired of how the Hayashi were being treated on daily basis. They said we weren't allowed in the Upper-City, so we tried the Mid-City.

"The Mid-City had it out for us, too, and so we tried to do everything you humans did and sought your approval. We tried to adopt the right fashion and way of speaking, the right way of mind, miss, and yet we still had to go. We've either gotta be quartered to the Lower-City or to Zone H, which links into the damn Lower-City.

"We're at the very bottom. We're below the common amenities of human pets, and this city's got no jobs to offer us. We've families to support, though, so we have to live on the same Citadel as you and those Knight pussies!"

"You need to keep in mind that I've no control over your lives in Zone H, and I don't have the type of power to change how you live, Gosuke."

"Address him as 'Crown Gosuke,' dyke witch!" one of his bodyguards shouts at me and brandishes his pistol.

"Relax, man." Gosuke waves the fool off, then he looks into my eyes.

"You don't control what goes down, sure, but you're still a part of it—regardless if you want to be or not. The institution that you represent committed genocide against us once, and that kind of wound isn't one that can easily heal.

"So, heh... you'll have to forgive the Iketsun if some of the boys and I take liberty in metin' out punishment to humans everywhere. When the Zone police got set up here, it was really a whole bunch of humans sent to terrorize the remaining Hayashi in the Mid-City. The war against us has never ended; it's adapted to the game, like we all had to."

"For the last time," I sigh, "I'm not here to arrest anyone who's not involved. I only care about one thing, Crown Gosuke, and I've been making it very clear to you this whole time."

"And, like I've been tellin' you, that's got nothin' to do with the Iketsun's way of livin', you feel me?"

"Aaliyah."

I turn to see L begging for my attention.

He says, "I think this is somethin' you really need to be discussin' with me and not the Crown himself!"

"You know what," Gosuke quickly interjects, "I think the little punk's right...

"Both of ya'll should go ahead and be on your way together, seeing as the two of you have history and that L's too childish to play any real role in my crew.

"Tch. And this is me lettin' you off easy, girl. Had you not come with any real firepower, you understand that you wouldn't be alive, right?"

"It doesn't matter," I tell him. "I was tasked to stop something evil, and so I made up my mind see it through."

Gosuke smiles just as L begins to realize what's just happened. He nods toward the door and says, "Get the fuck out of here."

\-------

Hey, Commander Lady—ay, I know how it seemed in there, but I wasn't, for real, fuckin' with those people! I swear!"

Fortunately, I find out from the kid that we're still in Akashira Village, near the deepest section, and L's leading the way back to the only place I can think to set up camp at for now: the Spirit Lyceum.

As we scale ongoing slopes that increase in steepness the farther we move up, he still tries to prove his innocence to me: "I promise I had them caught up in my plan—I PAID for Sun Studio! I should own it, miss!"

"How the hell is that even possible?"

He gasps with wide eyes, "Are you for real doubtin' my lyrical talent? Need I remind your silly-ass of what I can do with the spoken word?"

"Shut up, kid! I've had enough of your games—why don't you tell me why you were so eager to keep me from questioning Gosuke?"

L halts, and the two of us pause while he thinks to himself.

"Because I don't think it's him."

"Uh huh. And who do you think it might be?"

"Definitely not the Iketsun. All those girls who've gone missing—especially in the last month...

"I knew them. All of them were Lyceum students, lady."

"Dammit." I shake my head. "So, this was all just a wasted trip! He led me to the Iketsun for a reason, and I went along with his plans without questioning why I ended up with you in the first place!"

"Who's 'he?'"

"Husashi. The guy who claims to be your teacher."

"Lady, Mr. Heroclitus has been the only teacher at the Spirit Lyceum for, I don't know, like a decade. People haven't always been disappearing at his school."

"Then it has to be that student who tried to kill Cyano."

"Xonshu?" He grumbles as we start to walk again. "He's not the killer type."

"And how would you know, kid?"

He stomps in between taking steps. "Because he was scared, Aali. Something's got these kids not actin' right, and I don't think it's Husashi or Xonshu, to be honest.

"In fact... the ones who've been dying off were all the smartest ones—the ones with the best kamuys!"

"Kamuys?"

"That thing you roll with that could've gotten you shot back there if it hadn't been so impressive—I mean, damn, you really lucked out, lady!"

"You think those girls were chosen for that specific reason? Intelligence?"

"Maybe. Xonshu's shook, all fucked up 'cuz he's the one around Mr. Heroclitus the most. He knew somethin' about the most recent kid who went missin': Jilae.

"I used to go to the Lyceum more frequently 'fore the Knights took over, and, when I didn't see Jilae for a whole month, I asked Xonshu about it. Xonshu says she told him she was headin' down Enok Avenue to visit the old bell tower. Mr. Heroclitus told her the bell tower is 'enchanted,' that it's good for gettin' closer to your kamuy."

"Enok Avenue?"

"Yeah. You heard of it?"

In my mind, I grasp a small shred of hope. For so long, I've obsessed over the words of that criminal with black holes for eyes.

"Do you know of any other streets it intersects—ones that would be close to the bell tower you're talkin' about?"

"Let me think..."

It's too late for him to answer once I hear footsteps.

"There's no more time for that."

I shudder and slowly bring myself to face the short fella from before, Tatsu'ey, looking at me down the barrel of his scoped pistol.

"But the boss said he'd let us go!" L yells while stepping toward him.

"You have no 'boss,' brat, and that makes you an enemy who's threatened valuable territory by involving the police. It's time I remove the stain you've placed on our reputation."

It's too late—for me or my kamuy! There's nothing I can say by the time he's pulled the trigger, and I know I'm fast, but I'm not good enough to dodge this!

A black dot whisks by us, and I hear the sound of something wet, something disgusting that snaps through the air and follows the gunshot. In half a second, a creature resembling a frog catches the bullet with its tongue and lands just so it can spring toward the assassin again—

A frog kamuy, the size of a small dog and giving off white steam, spits the bullet into Tatsu'ey's side, causing him to stumble before he collides with the wall.

"Samo, get back here!"

L's eyes come to life with an emerald light, then they fade as his kamuy returns to his side while staying far away from my own companion.

I choose to act:

I take up Tatsu'ey's pistol and shove the barrel into the side of his head.

"Whoa! Whoa!" L hurries to stand on the other side as he pleads for me to chill.

"They put a mark on us, kid." My kamuy is powering up as I speak. I allow my frustration to dominate, "If they want us dead, then it's for a mothafuckin' reason."

"But we can't go around puttin' lead in their people! This the type of shit that could start a war!"

I'm surprised that Lance Kaust is giving me lectures on mercy, but I don't care.

I punch Tatsu'ey in the face, then I shove the barrel into one eye socket.

"Tell me what you know about the missing girls! Hurry up!"

"Oh, Avva! Shit! You won't fuckin' kill me! You're a government bitch—they won't let you do this to me!"

"He's right, Aali!"

"Listen to me," I give him a look he can't neglect, "when it comes to children being harmed because of the games of stupid fools, I don't fuck around. Zone H is under martial law, and I have full authority to execute you after trying to kill me.

"Listen, because I'll blow your brains out if you don't answer my questions."

"This... Lady..."

"TELL ME."

L cowers away and lets me handle the rest.

"It was all about respect."

"What was all about respect?" I press the barrel deeper.

"Me offing you! You disrespected the Crown to his face—a-and... I'm just a human, an outsider to the Iketsun, but you disrespected my brothers!"

"All I care about is innocent bystanders gettin' caught up and disappe—"

"I don't know what you're talking about! We've been so busy movin' around to avoid a direct fight with the Knights, and the Miyushi have grown to the point that they're a fuckin' threat to everyone!

"These missing girls... I have no idea—I promise!"

"Ugh!" I walk away from him abruptly and gesture for L to follow.

"Come on." I say to him, "I have a plan."

\-------

"Say, L," before we're close to the Lyceum, I think of everything I haven't yet asked about:

"How've you been able to travel between Zones and the Lyceum so quickly—faster than me and without an Oku?"

"The fuck's an 'Oku?'"

"Boy," I breathe out with more than a little exhaustion, "you've got the manners of an ape. You remind me of another idiot I know—"

"Ay! I'm not an idiot, Commander Aali! How can I be if I know how to travel everywhere so fast—and I knew about the Lyceum before you did! What about that, huh?"

"L... how did you do it?"

"Tch. Like you need to know everything."

I come close to tripping while trying to probe his mind. "You're not going to tell me? Even after losing your friends back there?"

"They were never my friends, see. I was just playin' around with them. I'm smarter than you think I am, lady. Who knows, maybe I could be the Bureau Commander, too—my kamuy's stronger, anyways, yo!"

"Don't go off topic. My kamuy's obviously better, you little punk, and I asked you how you got around without any help, remember?"

"Yo, I'm not going to talk."

"You don't have to lead with that, you know?"

"Know what?"

"'Yo.'"

"Yo..." L nods solemnly, as if I said something really profound.

"Boy—Hmph! Tch. That's not what I mean."

"You mean you want me to go and snitch on myself like a peon, right?"

"No, I mean—"

"A peon."

"Shut the hell up! I don't wanna know anymore, thanks."

I'm going through with my plan tonight. It's not the best course of action, but I don't have the time to wait around and wait for shit to keep getting worse.

If I don't survive this mission, then, at the very least, I intend on leaving my mark.
9

Gluttony

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"XINI, YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS, RIGHT? That, if you choose not to, no one will be angry? I'd honestly be happier if you refused."

I've stooped pretty low.

I had L sneak back into the Lyceum to try to trick Husashi into thinking it was a normal return. Then, I had him find who he thinks the next victim's gonna be: Xiniayl Kannen.

She's about fourteen, though she could pass for much younger. Xini's shorter than someone her age, sorta sickly-looking, and I guess she's always this pale. There are strands of white in her long, blond hair. Her voice is weak, but her mind gives off an inner strength that's faintly perceptible.

Xini knows about the other girls, too.

"Y-yes. I want to help."

Husashi's been inviting Xini to "special training" at the bell tower on Enok Avenue for the last three days. Xini says that the other girls have always disappeared on the fourth day. When kids ask Mr. Heroclitus about the ones who've gone missing, he claims, every time, that they've been taken by either the Iketsun or the Miyushi, and he'll more rarely blame the Knights.

"Xini, do you really know what you're agreeing to?"

I start to remove Maxwell's Eye from the center of my chest and hold it out to her.

"I'm trying to protect everyone, but I can't guarantee that I've foreseen everything that could go wrong."

"I-it's okay." She puts on a mature façade and nods, more to herself than me. "I've got this. If I can help the others who've gone with him and didn't come back, t-then I can handle it!"

Xini smiles and points to a creature, with the body of a baby deer, covered in a curly, bright blond fur coat. Its back is broad, and it moves around on hairy feet using intimidatingly sharp claws. "Besides," she says, "I've got Geor!"

I smirk. "Hmph. One kamuy could be all we need, but if we have two..."

It's not long before I send young Xini to the bell tower, ahead of me and Lance. Footage from the Eye will link back to my Kom Cell, and that should be enough to expose Husashi for what he is!

\-------

"I think you should head back to the Lyceum."

"E-excuse me?" L stops, turning to yell, but I keep walking along a road of steel that's warped and divided in its middle and wraps around to the east to meet the upward slope of a hill.

That road divides into two at the intersection between Enok Avenue and Nure-onna Road, and the left path leads to a surrounding wall made of polished stone surrounding a blue and ivory tower, taller than most power stations and perhaps reaching back into the Mid-City by itself. The shape of the tower is very... baroque.

Its borders and distinct ridges are all equally irregular, with portions of its body jutting out in spike-like protrusions, as if the whole building had been constructed by a team of dedicated drunks.

By the time we've reached the bell tower, I hear a shrill siren from the top hurdle out in a high pitch. I realize that there is, most likely, no real bell to signal changes in the day—nah, the tower's probably just as modern as the rest of the Citadel and projects sound from an operating system that's gotta be all the way up there.

"Ay, Aali, I'm more dangerous than I look! You think me bein' here ain't enough?"

I'm too busy watching Xini on my Kom Cell. Despite her kamuy having disappeared, she boards a miniature, steel balcony hanging off the side of the tower and attached to one narrow grove that extends the entire length of it.

It's dark out, and the feed from my camera's affected by land that just got gloomier. The constant rain's let up a bit, but, in return, the fog around us has gotten thicker and reduced visibility.

I'll mainly rely on my skill with a gun, though I'm not used to working in terrain like this. The night's still early in its wake, which means protecting the girl from a distance will be harder later on. With L along for the trip, it could be impossible knowin' his punk-ass.

"If you really believe that this is the spot where girls have been disappearing, then you don't need to be here, Lance."

"Don't talk to me like I'm some child!" L barks, but I can't take him seriously with his frog kamuy perching all happy on his right shoulder. "I'm trapped in the same game as you!"

Enough of this. I put one hand on L's forehead and push him away.

"Your father was once my boss. Even though I don't like that man, I still owe it to a fellow agent to make sure you don't get fucked up."

L retorts while following me to the front gate, "I've been trained to handle this shit!"

"By who?"

"D-dom Secundus."

Funny. Rashumi was a good trainer, but I don't believe him.

"You're lying—and it doesn't matter! Listen, kid," we're standing in front of a large gate that I know is made of netite—I know because of the weird black paint and multicolored etchings, and I rest my Kom Cell next to it:

This triggers a panel to pop up on its screen that claims the gate is for "public access." It asks me if I want to open it, and I select "yes" before shutting him up as both door panels part without hesitation, "I don't care what your reasons are, Lance—you're still too young for any of this. You shouldn't be in Zone H at all right now! If you're this lost, then try looking to someone like Kaust, your dad, for help."

"Pops kicked me out. Didn't like my 'lifestyle choices,' and he's not a patient man, lady."

"Word. Doesn't mean that you need to be the same way." I make sure my eye contact here is firm. "Lance, this is not the time for you to act stupid."

—I've gotta keep an eye on Xini at the same time—

"Let me handle this."

"Without any backup?"

"I've got Oya."

"Oya?"

I point to Oya, my kamuy, standing away from us and guarding silently from the front. I guess that it's a 'he,' and it seems my pet's grown even more. His body naturally lengthens and twists throughout the air, as though Oya's ready to explode in flames, to attack on command.

L's mouth hangs open for a moment.

"Shiiiiit!" he says.

"What's wrong?"

Xini's almost to the highest point.

"How does some chick who doesn't know about zol have the sickest kamuy I've ever seen?"

"L! Shut up and hurry on out of here!"

"Psh. Whatever. You're the boss, lady."

He waves me off while burying his hands in his pockets and slouching as he, at last, leaves.

My Kom Cell blacks out.

Dammit. I'm too far behind, and it's all because I was distracted trying to get one of them out of trouble! Not even Oya can climb this thing, and that means I'll have to wait until the bell tower's little elevator comes back to pick me up!

I set my Cell next to the base of the bell tower, and the next screen that pops up asks...

For a password.

Despair starts to set in, and, in an instant, sweat covers me. I feel a horrible chill run up my spine. There's no way I could've been this stupid!

To let Xini go up there alone... a-and now I can't reach her. How was she able to go on her own? What do I—

"The password's '68Z1.4L.'"

L followed me.

"Kid—!"

"I know, I know—I'm not here to bother you! Just thought you could use a little help."

"How did you kn—nevermind."

I enter "68Z1.4L," and the screens flashes before it changes to another prompt asking if I want to summon the elevator. I confirm my request, and, before I can acknowledge him again, the boy's already gone.

All this time, he knew the password. For him to have that kind of knowledge—dammit, that means that little punk, fool as he is, has got to be involved—is part of those girls going missing...

If L is being deceitful, then I'm walking straight into a trap.

And, in that moment, I panic.

I say to Maxwell:

"Sir, I think...

"This time, I think I'm gonna need all the backup I can get."

"COMMANDER AALIYAH, WHY ARE YOU REQUESTING ADDITIONAL RESOURCES? HAVE YOU MADE A CONCLUSIVE DISCOVERY?"

"Not quite, Sir, but I believe that the situation ahead's going to pose an issue. I think our enemy's already prepared for us."

"COMMANDER."

"Sir?"

The elevator platform reaches me and hums with low, consecutive beeps.

"THE CONDITIONS FOR YOUR REDEMPTION INCLUDE A TRIAL THAT ASKS FOR CONSIDERABLE PERSONAL STRENGTH.

"THE INTENT IN THIS INVESTIGATION WAS TO SEE WHETHER YOU COULD HANDLE ACTING AS MY RIGHT HAND. I AM AFRAID THAT SENDING ADDITIONAL AGENTS INTO ZONE H WOULD BE IN DIRECT VIOLATION OF THE MARTIAL LAW IMPOSED BY THE MINISTRY OF BEAUTIFICATION.

"IN THE END, COMMANDER AALIYAH, IT IS EXPECTED THAT YOU MAY NOT SURVIVE. HOWEVER, SURVIVAL WOULD PROVE YOU WORTHY OF REDEMPTION FOR YOUR UNPUNISHED CRIME, AND THUS YOU MUST SUCCEED ALONE. IMPRESS ME, AGENT."

I sigh, then I step onto the platform. It's only a few seconds before gravity presses down on me while the floor quickly hurtles upward, faster than I expect.

My heart rushes, and I've got to anchor myself to the ground. I feel like an idiot for asking anything of Maxwell; this is my task to carry out, even if this is my last go at life.

Akashira Village fades below me. A flexible glass extends from the edges of the balcony and connects overhead just as the rain turns into a brutal downpour. Although I'm deep within the Citadel, the area around me seems populated solely by cumulus clouds, and there's fog that gets heavy enough to block all visibility.

The speed of the elevator increases, and so, too, the pressure, and I feel incredible weight press me to the ground while, at the same time, perceiving that the course of the elevator's changed.

I'm no longer headed directly upward, and the platform's trajectory shifts to the side before moving me along in a horizontal path across Zone H. The world's all black around me; after some time, the elevator rockets skyward, and the pressure's enough to give me the most powerful headache. My ears pop. I lose my vision.

It's like I'm fainting, but my waking mind's still here. I'm gazing up, into a never-ending cave—

And then the platform creaks to a stop within the insides of an old temple of stone. The floor is made up of old stone, and two rows of parallel, tan columns support wooden crossbeams beneath an aubergine hip-roof. To the side of each column is stained-glass that depicts the original mercenaries of Enrec: Derek, Ishida, Khalil, and Avva.

At the focal point of the room, there's a man more obese and larger in stature than any human I've ever seen. He's more giant slug than man, and his gut's way too stretched and full to be accommodating to regular clothes. This thing's a wretched kind of creature. It has human flesh but also a waistline the size of five grown men and one that sags over, onto the steps, before a raised, red-carpeted platform that's in ceremony of a large statue of Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi.

Most statues of the demigod show him with ten arms, but this one is tall enough to contain sixty, and each one carries a different weapon except for a center arm, the hand of it holding a small, round, orange-tinted bell that rings with a hollow drum which quakes the entire tower.

I almost forget to step off the elevator before it's called back down by someone else—presumably that kid again. I expect that he's probably preparing to ambush me from behind. As I get closer to the abomination in front, I notice that its giant, triple-chinned face looks familiar, but I've gotta stop myself from retching when I notice that he's involuntarily dribbling slobber from both corners of his mouth.

"AHHH..." he grumbles so loudly that the tower echoes with his voice.

I then realize that it resembles the official I didn't bother introducing myself to—the big one, but this monster's features are all exaggerated due to the amount of pure fatty tissue that hangs off what must be one abnormally strong skeleton.

There's no way it could be possible, but it looks so much like...

The Fifth Captain. Morbidly obese and reputed to be lazy. When we'd spoken before, he had a smile on his face, a smile so big that I couldn't see his eyes, and he didn't seem so upset that I'd blown off visiting him.

It creases its lips and grins, showing decayed teeth, some yellow while the rest are a grimy brown. Its eyes disappear behind thick folds of skin, and the abomination starts to laugh—uttering noises that are too close to a human's...

The Fifth Captain wasn't upset because he knew we'd meet again!

Xini's standing right before the disgusting blob, quivering, and I can suddenly put reason as to why this thing keeps slobbering.

I draw my pistol and strafe toward the monster while keeping my eyes on the girl.

"Xini!" I shout to her, but she doesn't respond. I don't know if she's locked in a trance or just too afraid to move, but I've got to act fast.

The abomination grunts again; this time, it heaves its huge belly to the left while swinging up a sinewy and long right arm toward Xini!

I have a clear shot, the perfect angle to put one through his skull, and I take it:

I fire a round, then I wait, smirking nervously as I notice the creature freeze. I didn't hear it make any noise, and its head looks fine, but—!

It slowly lifts itself up. I shoot three more rounds that I know will make it in the dead center of his forehead. My marksmanship is unrivaled.

It's because of this that I understand what's off:

Each bullet dings against the top of the monster's skull and plummets to the ground in succession. The monster takes a minute to look at me with thoughtful, intelligent eyes, and then...

It smiles wide. It speaks:

"Aaliyah...

"Aaliyah. Aaliyah... Yes! You've come to witness my grandeur!"

The voice of the Fifth Captain rings through the hall, accompanied with a second reverberation that comes from deeper within his stomach. All the sudden, he's so excited to see me that he forgets about his next sacrifice.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Ms. Aaliyah! What a delicious delight for my prey to come to me."

"What... are you?" I can just barely make myself speak, but, like Xini, I'm so terrified that it's hard to move. The most I can do is inch toward her while hoping that Zhuo doesn't strike.

"I am what I've always been, Ms. Aaliyah. Fifth Captain Zhuo, next in line to General Orito and soon to surpass his meager power. What you see now is an Awakened human."

His eyes glow a violent ruby as his anger worsens. Zhuo's already aiming to destroy the two of us, and I've got to put together a plan fast!

Oya burns bright from behind me; his light brings with it a sense of calm clarity. Oya might just be strong enough to take the Fifth Captain on his own.

"BWAHAHA! I was informed of the true price of power—a terrible price yet so attractively scandalous.

"When I had fulfilled my portion, my real body became much greater. In the public, I can make myself small; in reality, I am a titan. The more I consume, the more I fulfill my part of the deal and the stronger I grow!"

The giant form of Zhou lobs a ball of spit at the ground.

"Bullets cannot penetrate my skin. No blade may hurt me, making I, Fifth Captain Zhuo, the most invincible samurai in the Citadel!"

Just as I grab Xini's arm to bring her along with me, the grotesque slug leans the top of its body over, squints its eyes, and hacks more spittle across the belfry's floor.

"I-I'll... consume—*hack*—everything! EVERYTHING!"

He coughs with enough force to send wind riveting out from his mouth. Zhuo's throat expands as something pushes its way through his larynx, causing his head to bloat even further before he vomits grey sludge that emerges with a slimy, ashen body which writhes on its own.

Zhuo hacks one more time before throwing up the last of the creature, and it turns out to be another bloated, humanoid slug. A body that seems human-like presses on the outer membrane as it begins reaching toward me. From within the slug's body, I catch a glimpse of a rotting corpse that still has the sense to stalk me, and—when the slug's head reels up—teeth the size of small swords abruptly jut from its maw, breaking through the membrane.

The child that Zhuo's just created crawls faster, and I push Xini to run to the exit, except—

I forgot that someone else activated the platform.

Zhuo isn't done making more of his children; I hear him start hacking again while bending over to produce a second. As the first spawn growls at us and rends the air, Zhuo spits up two more slugs, then he tries to catch his breath before he calls out above him:

"I have learned to build my own army, to rely on a power unique to only me. In consuming something innocent, in impacting lives with such sorrow, I have strengthened my own abilities. Unlived life in exchange for Awakening, in exchange for unlimited potential!"

Zhuo decides to create even more of his spawn despite the ones he's already made still pursuing us to the end of the belfry. In a last-ditch effort, I shoot one of his slugs.

The round simply glances off, just like it did for the Fifth Captain. Xini's coming to her senses but at the wrong time; she grabs onto me, and it's tight enough to slow me down.

"W-what's going on?" she cries as Zhuo's children close in on us.

I look back to Oya, who's been retreating as well. He's not all lit up like before; instead, Oya's shaking while standing back, neglecting to help me.

"Oya!" I try to call to him over the girl's cries, but his gaze is focused in on Zhuo, like a dog on the movements of a goddamned bird.

That being the case, I decide to retreat behind Oya, and, just as dozens of the Captain's spawn trap us against the wall, my kamuy comes to life!

Fire arcs around Oya's head.

His tail grows at a rapid rate, producing more than one layer of flames that hover around him. These flames soar too far in the direction of the ceiling, catching the roof, setting it on fire, and bringing intense light into the whole room.

Zhou's eyes widen; his jaw drops. He follows with a loud gasp and cries, "SUCH DISRESPECT!

"Champion Rasputin, come to my aid, for this witch threatens our authority with fire! I will make more of my children, and, because your feeble bodies are not up to my standards of real quality, I find it fitting that they should be the ones to be feasted on this night!"

—Zhuo points at me—

"EAT THEM WHOLE, LITTLE GODS!"

On cue, Oya implodes:

His light dims to show only a dark shadow. That shadow changes to a harsh tangerine, then it goes completely red, and Oya turns into a glowing ember that's building in might as Zhuo's spawn make their final assault, with every abomination reeling back their claws and teeth to shred us.

Waves of pure heat erupt straight from Oya—magma unites with the air at such a speed that hot, searing flames travel across the whole of a sea of slugs, catching fire to nearly every one of Zhuo's spawn...

And then we hear their screams.

The screams of young women who didn't share the same fate as Xini. All the ones Zhuo "consumed" and threw up.

"I can make many more!" the Fifth Captain growls.

"My army cannot be defeated by someone ignorant of zol! Goodbye, Ms. Aaliyah. May you never trouble the Ministry again."

And, in the mess of half-dissolved guts and charred human remains, the elevator brings two more into the belfry.

Lance has followed me, but he's brought someone else with him, and I suspect that it's the one who he's really pullin' strings for.

I see the familiar, elderly figure of the same bastard standing next to L and resting one hand on his shoulder. As soon as the last member of the party arrives, the Fifth Captain halts, and every one of his spawn follows suit to acknowledge the presence of the newcomer.

Oya's flames dim to signal that his guard's weakened a little bit, and I'm close to sure that it'll be me against everyone else now.

"Lance!" I yell to him, and he flinches at the shock of hearing my voice, "I told you not to follow me!"

He sighs and shakes his head before keeping it bowed as Professor Husashi steps around him to get a clear view of me. When our eyes meet, he grins, then he bows.

I don't return the gesture.

"Detective, your timing is quite remarkable. Once I've given you an order, I see that, more often than not, it's swiftly carried out."

Husashi turns back to L and nods at him. "Excellent work, my child. You managed to confound the mind of one of the Bureau's best agents."

"I didn't do it for you." L says to him with a fierce look, and the two remain locked in tense silence.

"Ah yes, your loyalty lies where it may. A demon promised you a foolish dream, and that's all it took for a human child to sell his soul. Had I known this some time ago, dear boy, perhaps Zhuo might not have been my first choice."

Xini's losing herself. She spasms, stuck between shock and terrified confusion, and her mouth twists into a deep frown. Her eyes dart to meet mine:

Just looking at her causes Xini to come back to reality, but it's still too much for her. Her breathing gets rapid before I see the whites of her eyes as she shrieks, "Help me!

"Geor is too weak! I can't let him fight!"

Xini runs toward the exit. I hear the sound of thick liquid sloshing, and this hails another of those ugly mothafuckas made by the Fifth Captain. It's flanked us!

This one, the biggest slug of them all, struggles to lift itself up to almost cover the height of the doorway, and Xini jumps back. Although it doesn't move toward her, she runs and grabs onto me, and my attention's completely taken away from what's going on behind me.

"Help!" she screams, pleading with her eyes.

"Calm down. You've got to be strong."

I stop myself from kneeling, knowing that I'll have to act soon, and I say to her, "Everything's under control. It's a stupid trick, Xini. Got it?"

She's focusing behind me, distracted to the point where I feel compelled to look, too.

Long, curved horns rise above—horns attached to a bull's skull that bleeds colorful crimson, forming kaleidoscopic waves along its surface and with enough intensity that it comes close to hiding demonic eyes nestled at its top, eyes looking down on me. I see a stiff, gangly form which blocks any possible escape route, any path to maneuver outside of its claws. The demon's body is a gross imitation of a human's, standing at over eight feet and being abnormally rounded where its shoulders should be. One corner of the demon's upper body seems... taller than the other.

The heat builds around both me and Xini; in a matter of seconds, I'm covered in my own sweat while being paralyzed as a wave of nausea hits me. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I fall to one knee. Shit...

I breathe in deep to keep myself from gagging. My mouth fills with hot saliva, and I sweat even more—so much to the extent that it runs into my eyes and burns as I try to keep them open. I'm too scared to look at It, but I'm more nervous about taking my eyes off raw evil.

Xini's screaming so loudly that it makes my ears ring.

Its face shines with a bright light before it melts into something else:

It performs a metamorphosis into a more familiar image, which brings me closer to losing my sanity. Fucking Avva, this sickness is weighing heavy on me—but how can I feel so sick? How could I be so weak in a time like this? Where's Oya—OYA!

Sometimes understanding too late is dangerous.

Sometimes understanding too early is just the same.

Erig Deran smiles at me from a mask of blood. I can, like always, make out every subtle feature I saw on that man's face before I blasted it.

I remember every time, and now... it's real.

His face—no... Erig is right there. Maybe he's involved in this.

I've lost the game by losing my mind, by thinking he's still alive after all this time.

My best student.

Still prey to the same whims.

For the last time, I will teach you.

But first...

When the demon's voice leaves my head, I look to see that he's already gone from my side.

Xini's pissed herself but appears oddly calm as she glances back and forth between Zhuo and his last spawn, which ignores us.

I feel just as pathetic as a kid in this place—I mean, I'm still on my knees, and I'll be lucky if I can get the strength to move at all. The urge to vomit's so fierce that trying to be still is the only thing that quells it. Husashi's made me a prisoner through manipulation.

This is a power in the same class as Tavon's, and, if that's true...

It can be overcome.

I force myself to stand, though my body's stiff, and there's an ache that sets into my back muscles. I'm deprived of rest, I know, and I'm not sure if I believe my eyes when the demon that Husashi turned into stands in front of the Fifth Captain, prompting Zhou to push himself into a slight bowing stance while he grovels at his master's feet.

Because I'm so focused, I don't realize when L's a foot away—

He presses a glock into my side. L's sweatin' just as much as me, but his nerves are failing him, and his voice breaks when he tries to say, "It's all in t-the game, lady."

"L, what have you done?"

Husashi speaks to the Fifth Captain:

Impressive determination.

What a beautiful gluttony.

To consume all day.

To grow.

You have done well to fulfill your covenant with me.

Zhou's morbidly fat head flaps up; he scrambles to praise the demon:

"Master—oh, master! I have done as you have asked! There's been agony, Master Ikihigo, REAL agony in Zone H. Pain like you requested!

"And, every day, I grow from that pain!"

Zhou flushes red.

"I grow to no end! I have become invincible, and I could bring forth an army to expand the misery endured in Zone H myself! I could become greater..."

Such despicable behavior is admirable.

You were to inflict harm in a way that could remain.

Lasting grief.

Grief accomplished through gluttony.

"Master Ikihigo, I consumed them all. I even consumed their kamuys! Every soldier I create is pure agony, pure fear manifested into life.

"Master Ikihigo, I am ready to be Awakened!"

As it would seem.

The demon whose been manipulating me for years, "Ikihigo," says to Zhuo:

Such thirst and cleverness are merits.

This necessitates intelligence and persistence.

It speaks to real evolution.

Zhou frowns.

"Master, I have done everything you have asked of me! Zone H has been encouraged toward disaster, great disaster! I know I must be ready!"

What you know and what is known are separate.

My servant...

Do not make your move too early.

The result may be entropy.

"I have read and studied my whole life. I understand strategy better than anyone who might claim the title of 'Captain' in the Ministry, and so, I, more than any other man, should be granted the truth, Master.

"I am ready! I swear!"

Very well.

Ikihigo hovers closer to the Fifth Captain, placing claws around his head. The demon doesn't move. Before it speaks again, I catch that Zhou's head is turning blood-red now, and the rest of his body is getting to be the same way. Every curving blood vessel pops from the giant's stretch-marked skin as it turns to an even deeper crimson.

Zhou tenses up, trying to keep from showing pain, but his grimace gives it all away.

Awakening is the key to human strength.

Awakening is the key to human destruction.

This is your ultimate reward, my servant.

Bless your timely ignorance.

"Haugh—hugh! I-I ki—!"

The Fifth Captain's constant coughing keeps him from saying anything else. He puts one blubbery hand over his chest, then I watch as steam pours out from small incisions that show up along his body—

"AUGH!" he shrieks, and theses incisions grow, peelin' his skin back and in wide strips of flesh that leak blood. Zhou gives over to a strange seizure that causes his head to shake in place faster than a human head should be capable of shaking without breaking the neck.

The skin on Zhou's forehead splits; his face is wetted beyond recognition shortly after that.

Even though he should be breaking down, the Fifth Captain's body begins to actually increase in size—but not in a size that's proportional:

His right arm swells to be bigger than every other limb; Zhou's torso extends up and brings most of his fat sagging downward and tearing from the rest of his upper body; his legs enlarge without becoming any longer, joining in making Zhou bleed out a pool which comes close to reaching both me and Xini!

L eases his grip, and—

No! Lance is rushing toward the demon, gun out front and aimed at the spirit's head.

He fires his first round, and it soars through the shape of Ikihigo to smash against Zhou's separating skin. I hear a faint, taunting laugh.

L fires again.

And again.

Ikihigo floats through each round as he turns to leave the shrieking behemoth behind him. By the time he passes L, who backs away and continues attempting to shoot without any ammo, the Fifth Captain's stripped of his flesh, which exposes tissue expanded into horrible lengths that reveal so many tears and damage where the human muscle has been over-manipulated. I don't realize this until it's too late, but...

Ikihigo's on his way to me again. He's been ignoring L!

Though I try to fight it, my stomach produces the worst cramp I've ever felt. I—

My consciousness freezes over, pain followed by slumber.
10

Fatima The Sage

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

THERE'S A CINDERBLOCK MAZE AHEAD AS WELL AS A VAGUE KIND OF DARKNESS. In my mind, I can see. Besides that, I can't feel or hear anything else, and the path onward is visible to a force which guides me. I try to look down at my hands, and—in just one of them—I see...

Myself. Running through—

\-------

I begin again, running through the same maze. By trying to see if I was real, I transported myself to the beginning. Still, I get the feeling that I'm deeper within the maze—get the feeling that I'm deeper within—get the feeling...

My thoughts are echoing throughout the labyrinth. Anything I think—anything I think—

Dammit!

So bright but so fragile.

You resisted my directions once.

Followed the fool boy.

Allow me to teach you this final lesson.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" I catch myself growling at him, near my wit's end.

Keep on running, detective.

Yes—just like that.

This time, I've shown you just one path.

The Spectrum of Imago.

And this path's like a hallway that stretches on forever while I starve to death—or die from not having bathed in so long. I'm not sure if I've got any hope left, but I speed up and use the last of my energy to get through this. If I can gather what's left—leave Erig behind...

Ugh. But that will never go. I've gotta carry it.

Gotta feel it.

I'll be strong... for everyone.

It's happening again; I feel nu—

\-------

I'm running toward a flame that roars and becomes the shape of Professor Husashi. I'm ashamed that I've lost to another one of his mind games—to this thing called "Imago," yet another secret I've haven't been let in on.

I charge at him, reaching for what I hope is my sidearm—

It's there!

I halt and switch into a proper aiming stance, then the Professor transforms into his true self: Ikihigo.

The demon gestures for me to keep moving.

"That's right," his human voice says, "forward."

I've no other choice, and, once I reach him:

The real world comes back to me.

\-------

Finally, after being lost in that nightmare, I feel the cool air followed by the chronic and annoying torrential downpours of Zone H. Although my mind's been fully returned to me, my surroundings have changed.

I'm standing on the raised, stone grounds of a monastery. It's been abandoned for some time, as made evident by mossy overgrowth and clusters of willow trees that populate what used to be an extravagant garden, now weed-infested and crawling with weird insects. The building of worship is lined with pillars built from glossy-white objects that resemble aligned jewels, but much of their appeal has been tainted by erosion and surface cracks. I'm surprised no one's thought to loot the place.

The flames in my vision came from inside this monastery, which bears no light and howls with full blasts of wind that come from nowhere yet whirl back and forth through its empty halls. I move under a veil that passes for a doorway and shows geometric-styled artwork scrawled across it by the monastery's past inhabitants.

It's much darker on the inside. I use my Kom Cell to shine enough light so that I can make out a lone statue at the end of the room.

Oya isn't around, so I'm vulnerable.

I think that Ikihigo might've been merciful, that there's a greater reason as to why I'm still alive...

The demon's only answer to me is the bronze idol of an old woman half my height, with her thick, curly hair tied back into a bun that stretches heavily wrinkled skin. She's stooped over and scowling at something. Both of her small, frail hands rest on a smaller cane that she's positioned at the center of her body.

Before I step any closer, a strong rush of wind causes me to stagger.

I overestimate myself, and I'm punished by getting knocked on my ass by a subsequent gust of wind that I know is too powerful to be something natural. In that same instant, a chill goes through my spine.

Oya's at my side now, but his spirit's weaker than when we stood against Zhuo. He's shrunken into more of a house pet, but damn...

I'm going to need much more than that to face this new threat. My mind's been opened further, enough to feel something stronger than Oya's aura, enough to feel amazing power coming from the statue of the old woman.

I'm frozen in place, knowing that there's another great beast lurking overhead, an invisible monster that can shred me in one go. I feel like I've been trapped by a ferocious animal, but Oya doesn't submit. He confronts the spirit.

Oya's flames grow stronger, then his body begins to extend, though I notice that he's breathin' a little heavier, probably exhausted from his earlier tantrum. He makes what sounds like a bark at the figurine, and then Oya erupts:

An unstoppable wind rushes forth, from above the statue of the elder, and it sweeps down to demolish Oya's spirit, blowing us both back just as her eyes snap open and glare, with muddy lilacs, at me.

The grand spirit above swirls around her. The old woman moves with the slowness I would expect from someone who seems so ancient, and it doesn't help that the bronze coating makes her look like a mummy that's been freshly unwrapped.

The wind circling her picks up to a stronger momentum and takes on a golden sheen that gives the appearance of dust revolving around her. Intense pressure pushes on me, and I feel its concentration draw toward the body of the elder, who herself explodes with power that shakes the ground at our feet.

Fragments of bronzed clay break apart in pieces, from over her skin, and she shrieks: "What intruder dares to violate a beautiful lady!"

She leaps toward me, extending her cane like a weapon meant for bashing heads in!

"Don't you have any honor, foul intruder?"

"W-wha—huh?"

I'm too baffled to defend myself.

Clay falls away from a face that, somehow, has become wrinklier, and the many lines around her shrewd eyes crease themselves as she studies me momentarily.

Her mouth drops, then her eyelids open enough for me to suspect that she might have cataracts—or, shit, she's gotta have some blind spots I can work to my advantage.

"My, my," she gasps, "you're a WOMAN?"

"What? Yeah! Isn't that obvious?"

"Of course not! What, with such a rough get-up, that nappy head of yours, child—oh my! How long has it been since you had a good bath? You stank, little girl."

She pinches her nostrils and shakes her head. "Someone come get this child who's lost her way and woken up a woman in the middle of her beauty sleep. I've spent more time on this Earth, dear, so you must understand that us wise folk require a little bit more rest."

"How long have you been asleep? What's that behind you?"

Looming at the old woman's back, there's an arched doorway that wasn't there before she woke up. This one leads into nothing but genuine darkness.

I wonder what she was intending to guard by herself...

"Time is..." she begins and then trails off.

"Time can get away from a sage, though knowledge perseveres through time and in both directions."

"I don't understand."

"Heh."

She smiles at me while striding up to touch my cheek. For some reason, it doesn't bother me to let her.

"Sweetheart, why have you come so far out of your way—to the poorest of the poor in the Mid-City? Though an ugly thing, you carry yourself much too properly to come from the common breed."

"You say this just because I don't fit a stereotype. There's nothing privileged about me, ma'am."

"Indeed. Those who remain in ignorance experience no true privilege at all." she retorts. "Do you know why you ended up here, of all places?"

"Someone tricked me, but I think it might turn out to be for a solid reason. I'm Aaliyah, the Commander of the Dawn Bureau,"—I offer my hand—"what's your name, ma'am?"

"Hehe," she chuckles again, hesitating while thinking of her next response. Then, the elder abruptly straightens her back and bows.

"Ah, child, you are also ignorant of basic formalities, I see. When entering the abode of someone else, it is expected that you present yourself with no dishonesty, that you answer questions asked of you by the host without playing tricks. How dare you try to manipulate an old woman!

"Who on Earth would send you to a place like this—and without knowing who I am? Why, I knew I would awaken someday soon; I didn't know that it would be to such disrespect!

"Ahem!" she taps the ground with her cane, "I am the ever-wise and forever GORGEOUS sage.

"I am a teacher in the Way of Shinte, a true zol artist, child, and forgotten to the Old Citadel, to times when humans waged war for the city.

"I am the venerable Sage Fatima, and you have disturbed my slumber by awakening Piagorenu, my kamuy! By my authority—and by my seniority itself, I demand an explanation for your intrusion, boy-woman!"

"First of all," I sigh, "you don't gotta call me that. 'Aaliyah' is just fine. Also, I'm here because of a mistake I made. I trusted a demon, and it sent me to this place."

"How did something make you travel without your consent? A demon, you say? Are you sure, honey—in Zone H?"

I snap at her without thinking, "He's been terrorizing people for all this time in the Upper-City! I don't know what his plans are, but there's something going on, and I might be the only one who knows about—"

"Calm down, honey." she snorts, then she brushes off everything I've just said with a wave of her hand.

"Seems to me that someone needs a visit to the baths. That,"—she wags her finger sternly in my face—"and probably some much-needed rest. Say..." Fatima tilts her head to the side. "How long has it been since you've slept, huh? You're out here chasin' 'demons,' and you ain't been catchin' sleep? Tch! All righty, dear, I think I know what your problem is."

She turns her back to me and heads toward the new portal ahead.

"Hey! Wait!" I call after her.

I hesitate before following outright.

"Quite frankly, honey, you sound crazy as hell. I can't bear to listen through all that musty nastiness! I mean, good Avva, child, you should know better than to push yourself so far—heh, you must indeed be mad.

"Yes, come! You will pass through the Spirit Lyceum and wash yourself at my private bathhouse."

Spirit Lyceum? Husashi's school wasn't the real—

"Afterwards, you will get the hell on with your troubles, as I prefer not to be bothered with crazy people."
11

The Art of Zol – Zen State

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

GROWING UP IN THE MID-CITY MYSELF, I thought I'd had a grounded understanding of how life was gonna work out. I forgot, after all my time spent trying to be a city detective, that there's a world outside of the Citadel. There's an entire planet that I grew up ignoring in favor of choices other people encouraged me to make.

I forgot that the world's not as safe as the Federation likes to make people think. Mercenary Derek rebranded himself as a ruler, then he rebranded his territory, but, truthfully, everything the Federation says can't keep out the fact that we live by the grace of forces we don't know anything about.

Fatima's home is at the bottom of the Mid-City, but few have ever discovered it. This is because it exists within a Rift, a tear in our own reality that leads into another—one that's similar to the very first Rift, and comprehending that catastrophe is enough to provoke fear in my heart when I step through, into the blackness, with the old sage.

The temperature around me changes so fast that I mistake it for my own body heat. I hear rushing water, the sound of waves crashing against a bank, and the sound of... animals?

Wild animals scattered throughout a bleak-looking forest that springs up after grass that's been neatly trimmed below the heights of wisteria flowers and blued cherry blossoms. At the center of Fatima's garden, there's a row of trees with orange fruits that look very much like peaches. The sky above is an off-colored, faded sapphire, and it appears as though the jazzed atmosphere of this private midnight could go on forever.

Breaking with the rest of the scenery, Fatima's home is a type of dwelling that I've only seen in pictures from the Old Citadel. It's a humble-sized abode, framed in wooden lattices which run through translucent paper. On the inside, the floors are covered with tanned tatami; decoration is minimal, with horizontal portraits of ascending trees and fauna. There's just a main room with two smaller enclosures made private by sliding doors. One of them is Fatima's bedroom while the other is an empty, connecting chamber to the hot springs outside that serve as her personal bathhouse.

"Wait—wait a minute! Hold on now, don't you come walkin' through my house being that dirty, I tell ya! Go around from the side; even if you've gotta go back out there, it's still better than filth on my precious tatami!"

I come around from the side and step up onto the raised, white tatami that surrounds a hot bath in the shape of a simple square. Fatima's already laid out a fresh towel for me, and I set about removing my clothes, noticing that Maxwell's Eye has still managed to make it though I never removed it from Xini.

Hot steam touches my arm, and I'm curious as to how this old woman manages to power this place when it's so deep within the unknown and feels far from human society.

I take a dip in waters so warm that it's refreshing to be saved from constantly sweating while under rain that never stops. Fatima's garden is so... so peaceful.

It's so alien from the rest of the Citadel, a pocket sanctuary, and nestled in the middle of all the chaos but most likely undisturbed until now. Nearer to the hut, I peep that Fatima's left me an unlabeled, colorless bottle, and I'm assuming that it must be soap. By the time I've flipped open the top to see if it at least smells safe, and it does—like smelling a handful of sunflowers—I see her worn, skinny arms set down a second, purple container alongside a black bonnet. She winks at me.

"It's been some time since you've washed your hair, hasn't it?" Fatima smirks.

Suddenly, I realize that the locks she has left look how mine feel.

"How'd you know?"

She's taken aback, "Sweetheart, from the top of a mountain, a blind man could see how dry your scalp is!"

"That's impossible."

"Well, your scalp happens to be impossibly dry!"

I shake my head and grab the lavender bottle without hesitation. I shouldn't be trusting anyone else—especially with what I put into my hair—but this woman comes from a different place than the others I've encountered down here.

Soon, I get a bad hunch about what's about to happen next. This causes me to speed through trying to clean myself. I know a hot bath is meant to be enjoyed—treasured, to be perfectly honest—but if that old bitch starts takin' her—

Fatima's undressing.

I'm still scrambling to finish up before she gets in with me, and I'm too scared that she'll expect me to look at her if she speaks.

She says, "What's wrong, child? Ya look real ruffled."

I can't help not acknowledging a genuine question.

I'm forced to see her ancient, withered body, still partially coated with bronze, dipping slowly into the bath. Though she's as human as I am, the thought of her joining me is gross. To make it worse, particles of bronze mix with the water and spread out, and Fatima reclines back against the edge of the bath with a smug expression. Just as she settles in to rest, I climb out and quickly wrap a towel around my exposed body. Even if she's an elder, I can't be sure that this isn't another demonic trick. It seems weird to give her any chance to see me naked when I think about the kind of power Husashi had over me fully-clothed.

"That was rather quick, girl. You sure you got your fill of clean water? I know it must've been ages!"

"I'm-I'm good!" I stutter and turn to face her as I dry myself off. "Thank you so much for your kindness."

"Nonsense."

She smiles and leans her head back while closing her eyes.

"It's only proper for a right-minded host to make available what she has in abundance.

"How long has it been since I've encountered another human—but then again... oh dear, I can't quite tell you how much time has passed since I took up residence here, all by my lonesome. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you some stupid questions, dear. I haven't quite gotten my bearings yet."

"You were a statue before. Is that how you've stayed alive for so long?"

"Are you implying that I'm old, dear?"

"No! No, I'm n—"

"I'll have you know that I've won beauty competition after beauty competition! My gorgeous looks are a secret that will never fade—even if I have dwelled for over a hundred years, child!"

"A hundred? You can't be serious?" I stop in the middle of drying off to take in what must be a wholehearted lie.

"You only speak blasphemy because you're intimidated by my natural glow! Don't you want to know my secret?"

The old sage raises her upper body out of the water.

I gag when catching sight of her sagging breasts, so deflated that they make mine like as though I've had work done. She throws her hands in the air and grins at me like I understand something that I obviously don't.

I don't plan on offending a total stranger in a strange world, so I just nod and pretend to agree with her.

"How have you stayed so... alive?" I ask.

"And quite alive I am!" She splashes water in my direction. "My, after all this time—after witnessing the end of the civil war, I have remained the only sage of the Spirit Lyceum, here to guide and protect, to teach and to remember the ways of which the youth are negligent."

"You've seriously been around for a hundred years?"

"Perhaps a hundred years more."

Her attitude becomes much more serious, and I suspect that she now gets why I'm so confused when she calls herself "gorgeous."

"Little girl, as I said before: I'm not so sure how long my previous slumber lasted.

"You see, my wisdom and girlish mannerisms were meant to be preserved so that I might spring far into the future and do my part to guide others with true grace."

"What happened before you went into this 'slumber?'"

"The same as what always happens."

Her smile gets bigger. She knows more than she's telling, like everyone else, and it's frustrating me.

"Every time I awaken, I meet another curious soul. I find that I always meet the strangest people—after all, dearie, who in their right mind would come down to the Citadel's ghetto to locate a doddering elder. No one has respect for the older generations these days. Why, ancestors are a thing of the past!"

"I came to this place to help, and, honestly, because I didn't have much of a choice."

"Oh?"

While patting down my hair, my eyes trail off, and I say, "It was either be a hero or fail. This whole time... I feel like I've been between both, but now—" I hesitate and think to myself.

"Speak clearly."

Fatima's already at my side, in a towel of her own. How did she move so fast—she's already fitted a blue bonnet over her head.

"My, my, your hair will start to dry out and shed if you keep goin' about in a place like this. Here, honey, let me offer you some help and give you somethin' passed down from my ancestors that was useful in the old days."

"What are you on about, Fatima?"

She winks. "I'm speakin' of Gae'Dien Braids, girl." Fatima nudges me and snickers. "It'll be for the next gentleman you meet."

"No thanks. I'm good." I nod and fake a smile.

Fatima scowls. "Come on now, with your nappy-headed self, ain't no fool gonna come up in this place and reject all the kindness I have to offer! Girl, this is a house of Avva, and I'm here to get you the hook up!"

\-------

Later, Fatima gets me to sit my ass down in a wooden chair, then she disappears into her private alcove that's close enough for me to hear her call out to me as she rummages around:

"May I ask again what you're doing in a place like this?"

I sigh, fighting the urge to sleep while I recline in the chair. "Someone, a demon called Ikihigo, told me that I'd find a master of zol, a person who really understands it. Do you know what I'm talking about, what 'zol' is supposed to be?"

There's silence.

I'm quick to get irritated; at the same time, I know it's because I haven't slept in so long. I've got no patience for the games of an old bat.

"Ma'am," I press on, "there's a Knight Captain who used it to hurt people—he kidnapped and killed girls and managed to get away with it for far too long.

"I never imagined I'd see a demon in the city, but this Ikihigo... Ms. Fatima, he tricked me into finding you. I'm not totally sure that the two of us are safe.

"Just be honest: do you know anything about zol?"

She keeps silent.

"All right. Damn..."

"Watch your mouth." Fatima appears at the doorway before the alcove with a pile of books tucked against her chest and two packets of hair on top of the stack.

"In a house of Avva, due reverence must be paid, and that's why, before you go pokin' your nose into my business, you should abide without wearing those disgusting shoes! How unladylike!"

Keeping in mind that I'm a guest, I start removing them and shake my head with another sigh, "It's not important to be 'ladylike' in my profession. I'm here to help save lives—to make things better for pe—"

"You are here for yourself. Plain and simple."

She sets the column of books at my feet, then she takes the hair, proceeding back into the alcove to grab a black leather stool.

Fatima takes seats herself behind me and opens a bag of miniature, emerald scythes while prepping to braid my hair into two-strand twists.

Fatima's quiet for so long that I reach for the top book—

"Did you ask?" she jolts my attention back to her.

"I-I'm sorry. Why did you bring these over?"

"What is life without knowing?"

"Excuse me?"

She says nothing else and simply goes about her work. I guess I can't be completely angry.

I reach for the topmost text, which is titled: Fear and Trembling, by Søren Kierkegaard. I don't recognize the author or the name of this one, but that doesn't stop me from flipping through it, from beginning to end.

At the age of four, I could read faster than anyone else in my family; by eight, I'd put down a few hundred books. I started with small novellas meant to teach children basic sentence composition; I ended with Dostoyevsky and Aristotle, the second dude being an intellectual jackass, for all that it's worth.

It doesn't take me very long to move through some dense passages and make it to the hundredth page before I start losing interest and think to check out the next title.

Below Kierkegaard, there's Sartre's Being and Nothingness, Max Stirner's The Ego and Its Own, the Tao Te Ching, the Upanishads, and the Bhagavad-Gita.

Taking my time, I switch between every book and absorb something from each piece. I focus on the distinction between their words, letting my mind drift from the real world and away to something structured. Paragraphs fly with such speed that I set my determination higher to finish them all and show a sage that I'm capable of comprehending zol for real.

\-------

"Honey, don't lie to me...

"Do you really think you'll get through all of them at once? If they bore you so much, then I'm afraid you might be further behind than I'd imagined—why, your own kamuy seems to have vanished, which itself is telling of a real childishness of the heart."

"W-what did you just say? You know about Oya—I mean, my 'kamuy?'"

"Tch. Girl," she exhales deeply, "you've no idea what you've gotten yourself into this time, I take it. You're way out of your depth.

"I'm also sorry to tell you that there's more where that came from if you genuinely wish to seek out Avva's Truth."

"What do you mean?"

"Why," she speaks up, "that's just scratching the surface! There's still Hume to follow, Spinoza, Kant, Descartes—"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but all of this is for what?"

"Ugh. Such wretched manners! If you only understood what kindness I've shown you, little girl. You've taken me for granted!"

"I can't apologize when there's no time to mess around, ma'am. You don't get that I need to stop someone evil from causing more grief. These books, though they're not useless, don't have anything to do with what I need to know."

"Dear, it is not what you need to know. Rather, it is the art of unknowing that you need to pursue..."

\-------

Fatima the Sage

\-------

In the days of the President's conquest of the Citadel, the Warlord Ishida, a man who had fought in the frontlines as one of Derek's most capable samurai, became curious about the talent that might lie dormant within the country.

Ishida requested permission to send a call for a grand tournament that would subtly work to bring the future nation together while rooting out the strongest warriors the Citadel had to offer. In the end, everyone's ambition was to defeat Ishida.

Warlord Ishida was rumored to have slain over a thousand—men and demons alike—on his own, and those around him, Derek included, had good reason to fear his abilities at their grandest.

Although his request was initially refused, Ishida forced the rest of the Federation to comply with his wishes or risk him changing sides in what had turned into a tense civil conflict.

From every territory, there hailed challengers who wished to prove themselves above all others, and their feats would be witnessed and validated by the Federation, a promising potential patron.

I entered this tournament, along with a man known as Ayer Kei. Out of all who chose to compete for a final bout with Ishida, only Kei and myself were capable of rising to the top of the ranks.

Ayer Kei had no special talent of his own as well as an inferior comprehension of the Art of Zol. Next to him, I was more adaptable—I had mastered Zen State, the place of nonexistence that precedes true oneness with the Way. I could wield zol in a manner that benefitted me and gave me the advantage over Kei.

Oh my, he was quite the buff one back then, but he's nothin' but an old twig these days.

I was the only one who could step to Ishida. To put it bluntly, dear, I overestimated the potential of that crazy fool. I didn't stand a chance against someone who thrived on combat the way Ishida did, and, by Avva's grace, I was crushed quite soundly—but, in the period that followed my defeat, Ishida decided that I was the worthiest to be his second in the school of martial arts he'd built: Angelos.

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"So, you've been here since the beginning? Like, before anyone else, you dealt with this catastrophe from the start? You must know about the demons in the city then?"

Halfway finished, she yanks my hair back a little too roughly for my tastes. "Ow! Easy on me, lady!"

"Don't be so tender-headed!

"I know my fair share about the demon races, girl. They done been here since the Citadel's founding. They've developed in some deep, dark places—the places people don't be payin' good attention to like they should these days.

"Oh, here I am going on about your cursed generation again—honey, you don't know the first thing..."

"I know that I don't need to read my brains out to get to this 'zen state' you're talking about."

"Nonsense."

She stops to finish her thought, "I've three days to teach you what can only be taught in a thousand!"

"Then why have me spend them reading? I'm fast, sure, but not good enough to keep up with this list you've got."

"Hah!"

I'm not sure, since I can't see her, but I think she's smirking.

"Such a poor attitude. No wonder you're so far from grasping your own nature."

In a moment, I realize that I might be able to talk her out of making me trudge through all this text. If I can focus on the impersonal at first and then single in on more personal questions...

"The Angelos Association used to be a school?"

"Mhm. Those who attended did so for the purpose of studying in the Jeigon path of zol."

"Jeigon? Never heard of it."

"Just as I'm sure you haven't heard of existential angst, categorical imperatives, and the subjugation of the ego. The fluidity of human identity, the redundancy of humans as a species.

"Child, zol can only be defined, in simple terms, as the harmony, or lack thereof, of one's essence. A human is an interesting type of being, one that has continued to evolve alongside the wishes and desires shared by the many.

"With great potential and desire cultivated over centuries punctuated by real struggle, there were a unique set of people who unlocked power specific to realized strength.

"Zol is music, baby; it's the rhythm to a person's unconscious mind, and it flows with the actions of what's conscious. Zol exists on one great Spectrum that involves a range of different expressions. Whereas some might project and throw their energies at chosen targets, others could prefer to unleash their attacks on the mind.

"If what you say about this demon fella is true, then I'd reckon you've been manipulated with Imago, the specialty of most demon races."

"Are 'Imago' and 'Jeigon' different expressions on the 'Spectrum' then?"

"Indeed!"—she yanks my hair a second time—"Jeigon is called the 'Spectrum of Power' and Imago the 'Spectrum of Psyche.' Each is equally versatile when it comes to surviving in a world that's been increasing its number of zol wielders in the past century. I'm afraid that, even with the divine guidance of Avva and the Way of Sidogush, humans of the world thirst for what's beyond them.

"People have always sought to have just a fraction of God's power, and so I suppose zol is the dream that came to life in our reality. You awoke me expecting to be taught, to be enlightened in matters not intended to be fully understood or mastered... not by our kind. I'm sorry to say that I'm a poor teacher. It'd be far better to make a living in the Upper-City, where you can forget about chasing risky visions. Aren't you happy enough not driving your little body to the point of exhaustion?"

"You really don't get that I don't surrender easily."

She doesn't have any comebacks, so I keep going:

"No matter what you tell me, I'll figure out how to use Jeigon—how to use zol the way it's meant to be used. I have to do this in order to keep up with everyone else."

"You're telling me that more have stumbled upon zol? In districts higher than this one?"

"Most definitely. I know of somebody who makes his arms and legs grow—he could punch a hole through concrete."

"That sounds like Shungej, dear."

"Shun—what?"

"Tsk. I see that it'll take some time with you. Say, why don't you try to get some rest? There's no point in training a student who's gone without proper sleep."

"I don't need it. You only have three days, right?"

"They'll be wasted if your mind's not right. You wish to disturb a great beast without preparing first.

"If you do that, this beast will pounce, making you wish you would've waited. Here, let me finish up these last few braids, then I'll dip them in hot water and get you ready to turn in—sound okay?"

"Where will I sleep? On the floor?"

"Psh! No, fool—you'll be taking my room!"

"Your room, granny? You sure?"

"From now on, brat, you shall refer to me as 'Master,' got it?"

"How can I do that if you haven't started teaching me—do you still expect me to read these books? Don't you need a place to turn in as well?"

"My word, you ask a lot of questions. It's no wonder that you've stayed single for such a time—though, I s'pose that someone so nappy-headed would struggle on that alone."

"Don't you talk any more shit, lady! It doesn't matter how I look; I've higher priorities than that."

"Who could have taught you such poor manners, I wonder? Perhaps it's the little sleep you've given yourself that's making all those lines appear on your face."

"Lines?"

No she didn't.

"Sorry dear," she chuckles, "but it's lookin' like it'll take everything this old-but-able body's got to make you whole, the way you want. Even ugly people should get to experience the light every now and then."

\-------

I get dressed in a silk robe and sleep in the lone cot that belongs to Fatima. It's been washed recently and has been neatly tucked in, with a cover made of brown fur. While I get comfortable, the sage meditates and absentmindedly scrawls something on the ground with the black ink of a long brush. I can just make out a faint chanting; she keeps repeating the same sentence under her breath, but I can't hear it.

I let myself think the day's over. After all the shit that's gone on, I've been lucky enough to find a sanctuary hidden away, the real Spirit Lyceum.

I get a call on my Kom Cell.

It's gotta be Maxwell because I don't think the Eye works anymore. He hasn't spoken up for a while, and it wouldn't be like him to stand by and not give his input.

"Detective Aaliyah, where are you?"

Aden Kaust appears as a small hologram. He's dressed in his regular attire, probably still bullshittin' at the office as usual.

I'm pissed that this mothafucka would think to try to contact me so late.

"What the hell do you want, Kaust?"

"That's 'Lieutenant.' How long will I have to keep correcting you, detective? And how are things out there?"

"You really care to ask?"

"Are you in Zone H? Your geo-tag says you're in the Lower-City—what's going on?"

"I found out who's responsible for all those girls going missing."

"Really?" His eyes light up. "You have them in custody?"

I shake my head and sneer at him. "I can't say at the moment."

"Tch. Are you really this fucking stupid, girl?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Don't you dare call me that. I'll make you regret bothering me if you keep on."

He scowls back, and the two of us glare at each other, both of us nearin' the heights of rage.

"I looked into your file, detective, and I've been told, as of late, that I don't possess a high enough security clearance to view any details on you. On you, Aaliyah. My subordinate."

"See, that's where you're messin' up, then."

"How's that? I'm trying to get the issue fixed with one of the IT specialists, but your shit's locked up pretty good. I'm assuming there's a reason behind this—"

"I'm your Commander now. That's the reason."

He pauses and stares off into space.

"Did you hear me, moron?"

"Nah,"—he smirks—"it's just another trick from you. You always like to play, but, girl, I swear that this is the end of your career—the last joke you try to play on a system that's been real forgiving.

"I've done everything I can for you, but you've left me with no options. What am I supposed to do with someone who shows so much goddamned disrespect, huh? Tell me!" he shouts and gets into stance, like he's trying to intimidate me into giving in.

I square off with Kaust, summoning everything I've always suppressed into quiet, calculated anger:

"By order of Maxwell, the big boss of the Dawn Bureau, I'm your superior, Kaust. I may address you however I fucking please—be it 'bitch' or 'maid.'"

"Are you seriously—"

"Be quiet, brother—you always speakin' shit on everybody else. I'm sick of your obsession with matters that don't concern you. Kaust, you need serious therapy, and that's the reason why I was promoted ahead of your station.

"I'm the Commander, and I'm seeing this operation to its conclusion. If you want to help, send backup to my coordinates."

"Well that's just great, you delusional idiot! Best believe that you'll never work for the Federation again, in ANY capacity, after everything you've done.

"I'll be moving on Tavon, and, once I have him, I'll have you charged with Conspiracy to Commit Murder."

"Do whatever you want with Tavon, fool. You think I give a damn about that raggedy-ass fetcher?"

At this, Kaust fails to process what I've just said; he's stuck in disbelief.

Tavon wasn't with me on the way down here. No one was. I made it this far on my own, and I plan to return with memories of success.

"Y-you've really lost it?"

"Actually, it's the opposite, Kaust. I've worked hard to become a detective and effect some true change in my home country. What Tavon does helps the Citadel in its own way, especially when my only concern is stopping people who are toxic to society."

I take a deep breath...

"There's real devils living down here, man—things that would make you hurl your insides. Real evil lives in this city, and that evil is going unseen without REAL detective work. Instead, men like you focus on petty grudges and try justifyin' them just so you can find something to do. I know the Knights taking over might've ruined what could've been a power trip for you, but you've handled all of this pretty badly, dude.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Kaust clenches his jaw tightly. He's fuming on the inside, but his composure's on point enough to impress me—until:

"You were born a cold bitch..."

He flares his nostrils, then he keeps silent.

"The Dawn Bureau appreciates all the work you've done to assist in keeping the public safe.

"Lieutenant Aden Kaust, you're fired."

I'll be sleeping well tonight.
12

The Art of Zol – Imago

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

EVEN IN MY DREAMS, I'm not safe from others intruding.

My lethargy's so much that it seeps into my bones. It's as though I can't lift my own body—and this body's stuck feelin' like nothing but a pure cloud. I'm above the world now, suspended at an impossible height way beyond the Citadel, and the only thing to keep me from falling to my death is the rounded, narrow platform of a rock pillar. There are others like it, and each one comes to varying heights but at similarly-spaced intervals, leaving the horizon populated with hundreds of pillars resembling my own. I'm not sure what stops me from glancing downward and from the small piece of land that keeps me safe.

I'm sitting cross-legged; it looks like I might only be able to do this if I want to keep my balance. Coupled with that, the breeze up here is harsh, chilly, and my body feels naked to wind that breaks against the multitude of rocky towers scattered all around. A gentle shudder turns to quaking that gets worse the more I pay attention to it. I grab onto the sides of my pillar, trying to hold on as it quivers.

My nerves are getting away from me... I'm not sure if this is all real or if what I'm witnessing is another delusion. I think that maybe I'm dead—maybe I died longer ago than I think, but I can't say for sure what's not a hallucination when, so far, everything's been a mind game.

At the earthquake's worst, the ground supporting me feels like it's about to break off and send me tumbling down below—but my eyes dart to a rising shape before I can continue to worry about my situation.

The dark outline of a head attached to a seated body elevates from the emptiness of the atmosphere and pushes through thick, white clouds to bring me a visitor and the only other human that seems to exist here.

The stranger appears not so far across from me, and a pillar of her own halts its ascent just as it becomes level with mine. Her face seems so... familiar.

Why does the image of her make me feel so uneasy, like I have to call her name?

"Who are you?" I catch myself shouting before I can have another thought.

"Have you forgotten already?"

I know her voice. That's right, I'm Aaliyah. I'm in Zone H—no, not in a Zone... I'm in Fatima's garden.

And this is the Sage Fatima, sitting cross-legged as well, but she's placed both of her feet higher to rest upon her upper thighs. She forms an oval with her hands by pressing the tips of her fingers together at her navel and bows her head as she speaks to me:

"Only three days to teach you the most complex knowledge available to humans. Such a brief time. Three days, with you using one of them to rest. Thus, I decided to change my approach.

"In the real world, the time of humans is short. Life is quite fleeting, dear, and peoples' ambitions often outweigh that of which they are capable.

"However, in the dream world... hmm—yes, the dream world is quite another matter entirely. Whereas the training I'd normally offer might not pay off until years of dedicated study, the same training offered in its rawest form—in the unconscious mind, at that—may prove much more useful for your many purposes."

I can't seem to find the words to speak to her. My brain's so foggy; a part of me wants to wake up now that I'm partially aware of what's going on, but there's a limit to how worried I am. Every time I try to force my eyes open in the real world, any strength I've got disappears. Fatigue sets in.

I'm trapped and not by a demon this time.

"One day and night in the dream world could hold the potential of perhaps fifty or more days. When one so weak as yourself shows up on my doorstep, there's no telling what training might do to you. This means that our time here could last the length of fifty days, or it could last only a matter of hours—this all depends on you, the practitioner."

"M—mph!" is all I can say. It frustrates me to no end because I can only speak in syllables.

"Ah yes," she says with a smug look, "you'll find that it's hard to muster your inner Self when faced with an intruder. The world of human dreams is tumultuous, marked by brief periods of clarity. Sometimes, moments of clarity are too overwhelming for the mind, and so the mind creates a distraction, a gentle push toward another fantasy to sink you deeper in without forsaking you entirely.

"Normally, dear, my coming into your dream world would cause you to awaken, probably in a fearful state...

"But I am no ordinary intruder."

Fatima reaches toward me, and, in the cradle of my right arm, a book appears.

I look down at the book's title:

Fear and Trembling. She somehow managed to bring it to me here—but how? The only way she could've produced another copy is if she remembered every word written in it! That's not possible.

My curiosity gives me just enough willpower to flip through the first few pages and check to see if it's legitimate—

"Don't worry about the quality, dearie. Everything is in its right place, I assure you."

It is. The paragraphs I read seem so familiar. It's not that I can remember it all myself, but I know—I just know that I've seen these passages in the real world. It's the same words, the same sentence structures, and every paragraph is where it's meant to be. Fear in Trembling progresses as if Fatima wrote it herself.

"The texts I'm giving you may grant vital intuition. While you might not agree with each message you uncover, my dear, it is expected for a student to embrace all that is not readily understood. Personally, I can't say that I enjoy them, but I have read them all at least a thousand times."

"A thousand?"

Fatima's eyes go wide and so do my own when I realize that I've just spoken my first words. Reflecting on this causes me to forget my question. What did I just say? Can I still speak?

"A—tee... Ah—tt—" No. Still too much.

Shit! I'm starting to forget why I'm here. I've gotta concentrate on the old woman's face. Fatima's an anchor for my consciousness, someone who can help me keep remembering.

"Such stubbornness is impressive!" she chuckles, and it echoes eerily through the wind.

"Try focusing in on the rhythm of your breathing. Go through the first book again!"

"But why?" I hear what doesn't sound like my voice respond and howl on the breeze.

The old sage doesn't offer a reply. Instead, my mind drifts toward the text, which seems to have grown a lot thicker than before. I skip through its pages and find that other books have been grouped in with Fear and Trembling—in fact, it seems everything she tried to get me to read the first time appears in order. The more pages I study, the more it grows.

Fatima's vanished from sight, though the pillar she arrived on remains in place. She's left me with dozens of heavy literary and philosophical works, and, in this place, all I have is my mind, which guides me into worlds different than my own. This dream acts like a kind of vehicle into the ideas of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Stirner, Plato, and so on—on and on through visions of the perfect government, of the perfect moral system, of perfect knowledge.

What we think we know is flawed. Often, it's a copy of a copy, a lesser portion of something too big to process all at once. In no time, I learn about teleological suspension—I learn about the absence of personal judgment in favor of a god's. From there, I wonder if throwing out my moral compass for faith is the right answer, and the books that follow F and T merely feed my questions about the rights and powers of individuals. I read about the Ego, about what it means to create purpose in a world devoid of it.

After that, I move on to more ancient wisdom concerning the nature of being aware of that which exists in and of itself and that which can't. Merleau-Ponty and Debord encourage me to reflect on what experiencing the phenomenon of human society ultimately means. It's hard to decipher what so many authors have to say, but I'm compelled by a fascination that hasn't been in me since I was a teenager.

I read through text after text, lost in a maze of universes. I enter the minds of dead writers who pass down experiences unique to only their time periods, and everything seems to settle into my head. Every passage I read begins to flow smoothly, then I wonder why the Bureau Academy never thought to teach us basic philosophy or to even touch on metaphysics.

It's come to me questioning why I do anything at all, and, though my body's suspended in this endless dream, my thoughts have carried me far into the ideas of people like Beauvoir, Siddhartha, Confucius... Fatima's collection—no, her memory!—is incredible.

I never tire. Rather, I float through concepts at ease and unravel each web of ideologies until...

Until there are no more. I've come to the end of—

Fatima's giant tome disappears. Once in my hands, a volume full of knowledge is shredded into nothing. It's a painful loss because there's so much more to be reread, stuff that's not your everyday.

The sage makes her entrance without a sound, and I feel her presence before attempting to look up from my trance.

"There's no need to talk about it, honey. The details are written all over your face.

"Do you think you might be catching on now? I hope so, because you should be feeling as empty as you look. This is the true state which must be achieved before receiving a basic education in Imago: Spectrum of Psyche.

"The emptiness you feel, it is an absence of all thought following the consumption of hundreds of thoughts which aren't your own. After free association, your head's been cleansed and is ready to enter Zen State."

"I think I've gotten a better grip on things."

She scoffs.

"You don't, honey. When entering Zen State, you forsake the Self, much like how Kierkegaard or Nietzsche suggest forsaking mundane constraints in order to prove true dedication to morality.

"The right way to do this is for you to abandon this whole process of thinking—of being, really—heh! From an empty mind," she extends one hand with her palm facing up and says, "you may proceed into Nonbeing. This is my first lesson:

"Meditate until Nonbeing has pervaded what you are, until you can no longer distinguish between your perspective and the perspectives of beings greater than you. Seek unity, dear, and may Avva walk with you in your search.

"You have about twenty more dream days to accomplish this task. Tomorrow, around noonish, I will issue a test. If you pass, we'll continue to Day Two's Lesson."

"If I mess it up?"

"Hmph." Her expression turns serious. "I'll send you packing and enjoy tending to the Lyceum alone, thank you very much!"

\-------

Long after Fatima takes her leave, the binding that holds my conscious mind to this place starts to weaken. Without her around to guide me, and, with already having been in this dream for so long, my willpower's lessening so much that it's affecting my memory. It's easy to forget that being awake in your own dreams isn't a regular thing, but I've got to hold on long enough to reach the pinnacle of my meditation.

It's reachable by not thinking.

Breathing but not being. Eyes closed, the blackness all around is a reminder of a forced emptiness, and it's forced because my natural urge is to worry or analyze what might be going on in the future.

Nonthought. Nonbeing. Free flow association, then calm, colorless waves. My mind's gone to the breeze—to a place near to Nonbeing.

Zen State.

Revenge... Kaust... zol... clarity...

I succumb to a deeper slumber.

\-------

The next day arrives much later than I thought it would. I vaguely remember spending time in another world—I think Fatima was there, too. It feels like I've been asleep for days; my body's well-rested in spite of what happened last night.

Fatima really did show up in my dreams. She did something that I'm supposed to remember, but—

"Get out of my bed! How rude of you to sleep so late as a guest in another person's home!"

The sage is at the door in a white kimono, a red hakama, and scowling with the mug of an ugly reptile.

"Why, it's nearly noon, child, and you expected to receive thorough training from a master? Such insolence!"

Quickly, I hop out of bed and immediately bow.

"Ieaquim, Master. I didn't mean to disrespect you."

"Oh, don't try to lie about your behavior. Why did Schopenhauer believe that monarchy was the superior form of government?"

"What?"

It rings a bell, but I can't quite recall what she's talking about.

Fatima lowers her head, then she glares at me.

"It's about time for that test, don't you think?"

She plays the same games as Ikihigo. My anxiety's suppressed before it can build, and it's because I'm aware of more than a couple of facts.

"He thought that the masses of people were too ignorant to participate in government affairs. Schopenhauer preferred that someone with merit and intelligence be selected to oversee the lives of everyone within a nation."

"Excellent, honey. How does this differ from Plato's vision of a perfect utopia?"

"Plato supports the idea of multiple people, bred for success, controlling the government and making decisions for the majority."

"Which vision do you agree with more?"

I hesitate, afraid that I don't have the time to think it over.

"I-I..."

I never thought to argue with dead authors. If I don't respond in time, I'm in trouble.

Fatima brings out another book she's been hiding behind her back, then she chucks it at me!

I raise my arm to block and see if I can catch it, but Fatima zooms in—

She closes the space between us in half a second. Faster than I can see, Fatima strikes out and hits the bottom of my forearm with the side of her hand, pushing it back just in time to reach up and grab what she'd thrown.

In one movement, she takes it and smacks me across the head, and the rush of air, delayed by her amazing speed, follows behind.

Her breathing gets heavy as she stares at me with the stern anger of a grandmother.

"Do you believe that Avva ascended into godhood? Do you believe that She's watching over us now, even as I train you in the Way?"

I don't want to look weak, but I can feel myself start to sweat. Her features have hardened so much that I can tell she must have serious faith in the Sidogushan religion.

"I can't say that I cared much for praying after my mom passed. I'm sorry, ma'am," I answer as humbly as possible, "but sometimes it's hard for me to believe that any divine power really cares about the human race."

She continues to analyze me while saying nothing, and then I remember that this is still a crazy old bat. I'm fortunate to have made it this far.

"Oh, sweetie..." she sighs with a sagging frown, "it seems you're just as lost as all the others.

"Before you, there was Samazoshi. He was much too talented and hard-headed to accept any wisdom I could've taught him. On Day Two, I expelled him from the Lyceum.

"The student before him was Pentiagoza, who went on to become a Grandmaster in the West and started her own school of martial arts. There were others before them but none worth mentioning as far as talent is concerned. Do you understand what this means, girl?"

"Uh... no."

"It means that you HAVE to succeed as my pupil!" she snarls at me, "If there's no one to take up the style developed by the beautiful Fatima, then I'm afraid true skill might be lost to the world!"

"Okay-okay, then where do we start?"

"This is Day Two: the day I teach you the basics of Shinte."
13

The Art of Zol – Shinte

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

"I'LL SAY IT AGAIN: Jeigon is the Spectrum of Power, and, to start, users mainly focus on two unique disciplines: Shungej and Shinte. Ayer Kei claimed that he'd discovered two more, but this is not what I was taught."

Fatima speaks to me while sipping from a white cup, filled to its brim with tea, in brief intervals. On my end, across from the sage and in the center of the house, she's kindly made me food, though it's mostly carbs.

Before me, she's set a miniature, wooden table draped in a red-and-brown plaid cloth and supporting a platter of kimchi-fried rice. There's no meat, but she's placed fresh tea in a cup for me at the corner of the table, so I can't really complain.

"To be frank with you," she takes another sip as she announces, "I've little faith in your combat ability."

"Why's that? I think I'm pretty decent, actually."

"Well, what I mean to say, honey, is that, compared to the typical human, you're above average, but you must also expect that there will be disciples of Jeigon capable of greater feats of physical strength than you.

"Of course, this is the case for everyone, but you're a scrawny thing. That's probably why your roots were so dry before and all."

"Bullshit. I can hold my own."

Oya's constantly by my side now; his flames burn of their own accord. I can tell he's grown.

"Don't you dare curse in Avva's house again, you mannerless idiot! Do you seek instruction, or would you rather I throw you out like I did Samazoshi?"

"I appreciate all that you've done for me, Master, and I apologize for any further disrespect. It's just that I'm no stranger to combat. I'm even better when it comes to shooting."

"Is that so?" she perks up briefly while pondering something. "Perhaps there's a reason you've ended up here, after all. If Avva's truly blessed me, then I might have the pupil I've always wanted!

"Ayer Kei, until his mid-fifties, struggled to Awaken. Alongside the likes of Ishida, there was no way he could possibly keep up without a necessary level of proficiency in zol. Although he continued to achieve a rudimentary grasp of Jeigon, every student I assigned to him eventually surpassed him.

"And then, after he'd gone away and cut off contact with me for a time, Kei returned commanding horrendous power at his fingertips. He came to Ishida's school as a changed man, and, in so many words, honey, he moved into his second prime while I aged on and left Angelos to find another purpose. Whereas Kei adored conflict, all I've ever wanted is the peace spoken of within the holy Way of Sidogush.

"Perpetual war and bloodshed do not speak to the betterment of people, but Kei overlooked that."

"How do you know so much about the Grandmaster of a company of assassins?"

"..."

Fatima pauses to open a long, oak container at her side that protects a tobacco pipe at least twice as long as her cane. She begins packing a mix of herbs with rapid speed, then she lights the bowl and inhales.

Fatima coughs out a thick cloud, gagging awkwardly, "We were L-LOVERS!"

Ugh. The thought of Fatima and—nevermind...

"Is this when he took over as the head of the Angelos Association? Why did Ishida leave?"

"As far as the second answer is concerned..." she inhales and starts another coughing fit that's punctuated by, "no one knows H-HIS whereabouts.

"Considering the former... hmph. At first, Kei expressed love for me. After the tournament that would prove my worth as a warrior, we decided to spend the rest of our lives together.

"It didn't take very much time for the old geezer to catch up with me in proficiency after I left the service of what was becoming an army of ruthless mercenaries. Ishida wanted Angelos to act as a home for thugs who liked to test their mettle by pursuing and killing dangerous opponents, but Kei saw the Association as a tool for social change.

"By the grace of Avva, he believed that if we went after particularly nasty people, everyone would benefit. Kei has always wanted to put a real end to what he thinks is Evil. That's why he's still so damn ignorant. He followed me into the Mid-City, and we made a life together in places no one would think to look.

"It's how I ended up here, after all. This is the garden we put together some years ago."

Fatima wipes a tear from her eye...

"What happened to the two of you?"

"He was a ho."

"Ha!" I think she's joking and ask, "He ran around on you?"

"Oh yes, and the man-boy thought he was very clever while he was doin' all of it—leavin' me behind while he toppled local gangs and played at being a grimy banger! That man had a way of upsettin' me beyond my own faith, I tell you! Why—" her face reddens as she stops to keep from embarrassing herself in front of a stranger.

"I'm sorry. You're not here to listen to me ramble on about an old fool, anyways. Besides, you don't look like the assassin type. Oh! Did you get enough to eat?"

Without thinking too hard about it, I'd scarfed down everything she'd laid out and felt ready to meet whatever challenge she might come up with next.

"I'm good, ma'am. Now, you were trying to teach me how to use Shinte?"

"Ha! Honey, I don't believe that there's any way you'll discover how to do that for yourself with such little time available."

"What? I thought you'd be able to teach me zol in three days?"

"And I will," she tries to placate me, "but that doesn't mean that you'll be, in any way, close to mastering a discipline of Jeigon. Let us take this matter step-by-step, the first being your new view of the Lyceum."

"What do you mean?"

"Come." Fatima stands up to head toward the back. "Having spent time ruminating in the Way of Imago, you should be able to be see what has been, up to now, unseen. My pupil, this is the real test."

\-------

The Spirit Lyceum is not a school.

It's an oasis in a deep, blue jungle...

And a zoo, as it turns out, because the second time I walk into decorative arrangements of wisterias, roses, cherry petals, and stride alongside thin, pale trees having grown in organized columns, I notice that something has changed inside of me. What I couldn't see before—what I couldn't truly see—was hundreds of animals I couldn't conceive of ever having existed before this point.

The first one I really take the time to examine is what, at first, I think to be a small monkey nestling himself high in one of the pallid oaks. Adorning its head is both shades of bright lavender coupled with faint red streaks; it has two eyes that look more like golden gems. In the center of its head, and between and above those gems, there's some kind of smaller sphere, as if this monkey's only visible pupil is in that spot. Inspecting closer draws more of my curiosity:

This beast is suspended in place by six of its own hands, each one grasping a different limb and hoisting up a round, hairy, and legless body as it smiles at me through grey fangs.

Below this thing is another creature, which resembles what could've been a baby hippopotamus, except its head is more reptilian and elongated, and I can barely make out a faint halo that encircles the middle of its plump midsection.

Far above, titanic creatures, with unbelievably long, ridged tails where their bodies should be, fly in the distance.

But, like every other beast I can now see, these wyrms hang around nearby, choosing to remain close to the Lyceum. Unlike those on the ground, they don't lurk near me, and they don't stare like the others do, either. While I feel thousands of little, inhuman eyes focusing on my behavior, their grand counterparts over my head move around with disinterest.

Oya's become bright red, lighting up in response to us being surrounded by monsters that have no place in the Citadel. He's trying to protect me—but I'm not sure if it's because he senses danger or if I'm just scared.

Fatima's accompanied me here, which should be comforting. Despite her presence, and even when she begins to meditate peacefully across from me, I can't help but keep my eyes fixed on a great dark bull waiting behind her, with eyes that melt in smoke and claws where its hooves should be. Its mouth is human-like and curves into a wicked smile, like it knows I'm staring at it. I'm anxious, wondering if that thing would crush Fatima if it decided to charge.

Oya's burns brighter.

"Ease your thoughts, dear. Every dreadful fear affects the practice of Giji-ko."

"Giji-coal?" I ask nervously and without directly paying attention to her.

Fatima's eyes are still closed, oblivious to the animals that have locked us into a tight circle. Doesn't she see them, too? If they all decide to attack—!

"Giji-ko is the style of fighting I developed before Kei created his own path of self-defense, his way being one more suited to those who would later develop into ruthless assassins.

"While zol might be considered the rhythm of the spirit, I call Giji-ko the 'rhythm of peace,' of True Action. True Action is merited only by true reflex, and so the understanding of Giji-ko relies on the strengthening of one's moral and physical reflexes. One is expected to strike with the same speed and unconscious motion of a vulture—"

—Fatima's inches away without me having noticed her move. Her eyes remain shut in deep concentration, but her attention's still directed toward me—

"During the war for the Citadel, life for the common people was rough, unpredictable. Before the age of fifteen, commitment to the life of a warrior, regardless of who one served, was necessary for survival, materially and socially. Although this country held the promise of peace as well as mention human advancement, both of those ideals were ignored in favor of a conflict which involved more than a few rivaling parties.

"I taught the way of Giji-ko so that my disciples would know the difference between violence perpetuated through selfishness and violence perpetuated through righteous duty.

"Rest your mind, child. Proceed deep into a special kind of slumber, both awake and at once buried in a higher enlightenment. Enlightenment begins at Giji, the principle of 'Soft Mind,' whereas enlightened action exists in Giji-ko, Soft Mind molded into Adaptability."

I can't do what she asks without being worried. Not every monster around us looks so friendly; dropping my guard here could lead to the worst outcome.

"Are you really so frightened by the garden's kamuy?"

She opens her eyes and peers into mine without really being here, in the present moment. Fatima's speaking from a far-away place, somewhere lost in full meditation:

"They feed on Fear, honey—well, they feed on most human emotions, quite really."

"They're all... kamuy? Like Oya?"

"Yes." She nods and closes her eyes again. "By their very nature, kamuy are attracted to the thoughts and emotions produced by sentient creatures that are either human or human-like. Personality may be more important than you think, also, as there's reason for your own kamuy choosing you as its master."

Oya's flames have gotten weaker, matching my mood. Fatima's composed although we're surrounded, so I suppose I might as well give in if this is part of the same test.

"Where do they come from?"

"Hmm." Fatima shrugs, then she continues:

"The answer to that's never been clear to me nor my former lover. The two of us did take note of small rifts appearing in the Lower-City and began visiting them as a team. Each one led to a different lay of the same woods, with the same animals multiplying every time we came back. They've been crossing over into our world for years now—but I can't give you an exact measurement because I'm not sure how long it's been since the last time...

"I feel so old. I wonder if he's already perished out there and left me behind."

Fatima frowns, lowering her head.

"Before we speak further about the kamuy, let's go ahead and get an important lesson out of the way.

"First off!" She holds up one finger to scold me while she starts to analyze out loud, "You are much too little to be of any threat to a sizable enemy!"

"It shouldn't make a diff—"

"But it does." Fatima retorts flatly. She breathes in and slowly fades over into her meditative state.

There's something I feel coursing through her and reaching toward me—toward my thoughts. I think she wants me to follow in her stead, and so I do my best to enter Zen State without a warm-up.

Calm emptiness. Colorless waves. Black. White. Dissolution.

"Were you of larger stature, I would have redirected you to Kei—however!

"Girl, you favor my physique. Perhaps you'll one day gain the beauty that I have along with the brains—but, let's face it, honey, we've gotta use strategy when facing down pure brutes!

"The Giji-ko Style's principal focus is on Shinte. When enlarging muscular tissue doesn't provide much of a benefit, zol users can seek to lengthen it! Shinte summons energy that's pulled from momentum created forward of the constraints of physics and compels your body to absorb it for a brief period. Do you understand what this means? If Shungej is meant for overall strength—"

"Shinte must be a speed enhancer." Not sure if I've spoken this from my mind or out loud.

"Very good, honey. Now, come a little closer—not physically—come closer to the center of where I am."

I'm not sure what she means by this, but Zen State's beginning to warp into something that exists rather than persisting as an empty space that keeps my mind clear temporarily. I can feel Fatima's influence, and then there's just the two of us inside of her cottage again. We're both dressed in white robes, and she's standing at the ready, prepared to attack me with a wooden staff.

Fatima takes a step closer, and I try to raise my hands to defend myself—but I... I don't exist. I can't see my body—but why?

She sprints in, raising her staff high above her head. Fatima swings down, but she stops right before following through and smirks.

"I invite you to enter my Imago proper—but not so fast. First, you must undergo a brief hypnotization."

"Where I am, Master Fatima?"

"Where do you think, fool! This is my head, hence why I say my Imago. From here, I may hypnotize your physical body. Please believe that this is all for a reason, honey. I promise that you'll learn to appreciate the school of Giji-ko!

"But first, I must ask you to enter Zen State once more, and you must enter with an open mind. Give your teacher temporary authority. Relax...

"Good. Now, girl, slow your breathing. Move from Zen State to a comfortable place—try a familiar location."

I imagine my experience at the theatre with Zola, except, this time, she's being honest with me, being real.

"You are in a sanctuary where no one could ever hope to harm you. Child, I want you to know that you're a mass of energy, invincible when brought to action. Once the spirit has received a balanced flow that rushes into purposeful momentum, you may conquer disharmony and bring clarity through justified decisions.

"In this very moment, you've reached a potential far beyond that which you've ever felt in your life. This is the mightiest you've been, and the Way of Shinte, of Giji-ko, opens broadly before you.

"Do you understand how invulnerable you become when your reasons for acting are constants in life?

"Excellent. When conviction's really set in, pain and weakness should be tossed out the window.

"When I say 'go,' you'll feel the flow of zol lengthen your leg muscles. You'll evolve into a superhuman version of yourself, and you'll race past the limits of simple brutes.

"When I say 'go,' you will experience great speed, speed surpassing that of professional athletes and trained warriors.

"When I say 'go,' you'll feel what it's like when you entered my mind."

\-------

Though I haven't genuinely Awakened, Fatima's zol is enough to bring me into her consciousness. I drift from my body to hers, but I've got no control over what she does. I'm cramped in an ivory cage with her, hanging from the heavens over a rocky summit.

Fatima pushes open the metal panel and jumps down from the cage, landing hard so that even I feel her joints creak and complain beneath her. I can sense Fatima's thirst, hunger, exhaustion, and a gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach. Her anxiety is the most tangible thing there is.

Below the summit, a storm of black spreads out into forever. Its winds screech across the expanse, pressing against my clothes.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," she says.

Her voice echoes out: "But I'm afraid that this is the condition of my heart. When I'm not awake—and especially when I'm meditating—this is where I live, honey."

"But why? It's..."

"A real drab, ain't it? But I s'pose that this is natural."

"What do you mean?"

"It's what happens when you miss someone who's gone a long time ago. I remember aging not so quickly when he was around, although he was a nuisance.

"Nevermind that. Time persists without care to our petty issues, and I promised that I would tend to our garden. It's my pride and the best place for teaching Giji-ko."

"How can you teach me here?"

"Ugh. Such short-sightedness. Honey, j-just watch. It's been a while, but I've still got it—I know it!"

"What are you planning to d—"

Without bothering to explain, Fatima rushes off the side of the cliff.

\-------

—SHINTE—

A bitter draft brushes past the body I'm sharing with Fatima. Wild adrenaline spreads through both of us as we're propelled downward but along the length of the summit's side.

I thought we were flying, but she's the one who's really in control, and...

She's running.

Fatima's running down the cliffside, carrying enough speed to outrun gravity. Shinte is enabling her to sprint past her age or capacity. I can feel the rush of it all in my heart.

What should we do when we reach the end—when we get into the middle of that storm?

"Relax, honey." Fatima speaks to me in her mind while keeping her focus as we proceed deeper.

Like a true sage, she says:

"Fear is one of several prime motivators. My greatest fear is to die without seeing someone I'm close with one more time, even if he did make me angry.

"Still. You must learn to relish fear if you wish to harness Shinte quickly. You've felt it...

"Now. Do it."

\-------

I'm back in Fatima's garden, but, for a short while, she's nowhere to be found. Instead, dozens of kamuy greet me with curious stares. They're a lot like regular animals, excluding a kind of intelligence that might be a little too close to a human's. Oya comes to my side; I look at him, into his eyes, and I see if he has his own personality.

I should try to find out why he's chosen me.

Oya meets my gaze without fail. It doesn't feel like he's challenging me, though. I get the sense of loyalty from him, loyalty I haven't earned.

"Oh my, you were out for so long!" I hear Fatima call from the back of her cottage. "Come inside. Let me make you some tea!"

I do as she asks but don't realize what she's just said until I'm at the door—

"Did you say I was 'sleeping?'"

"No. You were stuck in your own Imago, dear."

"What?" I stop and put one hand on the doorframe to catch my breath. I'm more exhausted than I thought.

"Hmph. You're a slow one, ain't ya? Was 'bout three hours you was out, honey, and that's that weak stuff, ya hear? Ain't no trip to the mind supposed to knock you off your cool like that. See," she turns her back to me, "I told you to get right with Avva, child."

"Stuck in Imago for three hours... It felt like seconds—I-I'm sorry."

"It's no matter. Ha! I'm only messing with you! A more inexperienced person might've had an aneurysm!"

I take a seat in the middle of the main room while she pours me a cup. Fatima hands it to me, and I retort humbly, "That doesn't make me feel much better."

"Why, honey, it should now!" Fatima sits across from me and almost too close for comfort after what I've experienced. At the same moment she sits down, the entire wall behind her starts to darken a little bit. I think that maybe it's raining outside as I peep small water leakages at both corners.

"What's the matter?" She tilts her head to the side.

"It's nothing."

I regain focus by looking into her eyes.

"Do you know why my kamuy decided to team up with me?"

Fatima gasps, "Why, I'm surprised someone so assured like yourself wouldn't already have the answer! After all those reading assignments, you still possess meaningless doubts!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't get it. Why did Oya choose me?"

"You came to Zone H, didn't you?

"Though humans may not pass through the seal of my kamuy into the garden, kamuy from this world sometimes cross over and aren't barred from free entrance. Oya is a reflection of you, my pupil."

"What am I exactly?"

"Stubborn. Bright. Big-headed. Nappy—"

"Okay, stop—"

"Fierce. Full of potential. Angry."

"I'm not angry."

"Determined." She smirks. "You would've made a fine student."

"W-what?"

Dark liquid seeps out of the corners of the wall and spreads onto the floor. Behind two shadowy lines, in a straight trajectory headed toward us, a liquid silhouette rises against the wall to form the shape of an abnormally-rounded head.

"Are you afraid again, dear?"

"A demon."—I stand up and back away—"We should run!"

Fatima stands, and...

She turns to face giant white spheres that resemble ghostly eyes looking back at us.

"This is Shui'Shei, one of my Onomusol, meaning a "good friend." I've many of these across the garden, each kamuy serving a different purpose in return for basic human affection.

"They love when I return for a visit." She smiles at me, then she says, "But they hate having to share their cherished time with me with human visitors."

Fatima turns back to Shui'Shei, a monster made of pure filth.

"Shui'Shei, kindly exterminate this intruder!"

There's no way she means—

Shui'Shei's rushing toward me!

I've barely any time to run, dammit! Fatima's tricked me!

She tricked me the same way that fucking demon did! I have to get away—I have to survive, and Shui'Shei's too close—he's—

"GO!" Fatima shouts.

My legs go numb, then I feel blood pool into them and a lightheadedness come over me. There's no pain. In fact, my energy's limitless. The way ahead seems like nothing, and I launch forward without paying attention to my surroundings:

—SHINTE—

I tear through the papered wall of Fatima's cottage and blast past a group of smaller kamuy while soaring at a rapid speed into her garden. Before I can get much farther, the shock it induces, coupled with my fear of going too fast, causes me to stumble and fall.

"IN AVVA'S NAME," Fatima cries while standing at the door.

I cradle my scraped-up knees, trying to compose myself as a strong nausea takes over.

My legs cramp to the point of keeping me from walking, and it's all I can do to prevent myself from crying out as greater pain sets in.

"How dare you rip my tapestry! Shui'Shei's a true delight; he'd never hurt anyone!"
14

The Third Day

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

A KAMUY WITH THE ROUND, eight-legged body of an azure spider weaves silk and uses its hairy, humanoid hands to create a patch where I wrecked Fatima's home.

Outside the abode and within the garden, a kamuy in the shape of a centaur supporting the head of a serpent roasts swine on a rotating stick; near the front entrance, a small wyvern takes flight and leaves behind a giant egg that's covered in green spots. Fatima takes this egg and melts butter in a cast iron skillet before prepping to cook an omelet over the kamuy's fire pit once the swine's removed.

"Every kamuy in the garden—that is, if they hang around long enough—becomes an onomusol, a companion to the humans who pay attention to them as living beings."

"Like pets?"

The sage helps me back into her house; she insists that another beast will take care of serving us and to allow my body to rest after experiencing Shinte for the first time.

"I said 'companions,' didn't I? Honey, if you treat them like you would a dog, you'll find yourself quickly unbonded and possibly consumed. Not every kamuy is guaranteed to be a friendly spirit, but all of them wish for human companionship. Some are just pickier than others."

"Can a kamuy bond with a demon?"

Once inside, Fatima hands me a pillow to sit on.

"I'm not quite sure. Within the past century, demons haven't involved themselves much in the human affairs that transpire across the Citadel. Warlord Derek wanted this country to be a fortress, so I expect that most of the kamuy that have escaped into the city have already found humans to whom they feel they can relate.

"Oya has chosen you simply because you two are both obsessed with competition, with earned success. As you continue to grow, so, too, will your companion develop alongside you—oh, and there is ONE thing you must know above all else!"

"What's that?"

Shui'Shei, the spirit made of that repugnant liquid from earlier, carries plates of food by just barely elevating lumps of its flesh above the floor in order to glide each dish to us.

Fatima takes a plate of pork loin with a peppered, spinach omelet, then she talks in between bites:

"Tt-the kamuy can g-give you s-special perks, mhm!"

She swallows and continues, "You might have noticed a moment when your friend's thoughts linked with your own; yet, rather than lead the charge himself, Oya lent you his power. Has this ever occurred?"

The memory's pretty fresh, and I've been questioning whether I saw tiny wooden crosses in nets across my arms all this time.

"I think so, Master Fatima."

"Ah, so you've spent a longer period with your kamuy than I'd imagined! Either that, or you've been growing at an exceptional rate, which I'd argue may also be true.

"You might not be as outwardly strong as my former pupils, girl, but I think there's a chance you could surpass them if you develop Pythagora and master the ability Oya's granted to you."

"But I don't even know what that 'ability' is—and what's 'Pythagora?' Another Spectrum?"

"You guessed it, but, before I can get on that... hmm..." Fatima pauses to bite off a large hunk of meat. This old woman's able to stomach more than me.

"For you to discover what gift Oya might bestow upon you, I'm afraid you'll have to use Imago to make direct contact with his mind. If the two of you bond in purpose, then you've made the first step toward understanding each other. Mind you, your individual Will must prove stronger during contact in order for Oya to stand by you faithfully—do you understand?"

I respond with a firm, "Yes!"

"Onomusol are known to humans as harmless acquaintances. They are the assistants you see around the garden. Though they are compassionate and desire my company, none of the kamuy you see here are my Nilusol; that means, the one who's truly bonded to me.

"Now, enter Zen State."

I attempt to clear my head of increasing confusion because the amount of knowledge I've acquired over the past two days has been significant. I've got to approach cognitive emptiness once again, release my mind from trying to grasp more complex thoughts, and see the bigger picture as it applies to me.

"Once you've reached this pure state, open your eyes, keep your thoughts clear, and gaze into Oya. Study your companion, open your mind for him to study you."

I do as she asks, but my kamuy's eyes are suns that burn too brightly to look into.

When Oya realizes that I'm staring at him, he makes a barking noise. His eyes get more intense, but determination overrides any pain I feel.

Oya relaxes.

He knows that I've no hostile intentions, understands that I've entered a trance that'll allow me to establish contact with him. For the first time, we can communicate.

My forehead's warm. Euphoria shoots through me.

Vision's startin' to fade, bit by bit. All I see is fire. It's... comforting. Blazing flames that lick at the emptiness of Zen State, and then I vaguely sense feelings I recognize in Oya:

Pride. Discipline. Hope.

Oya carries a fiery vendetta in his heart. His pride was wounded, so he seeks to bring glory and honor by his actions. He's bonded with me because we're both willing to endure desperate situations while acting critically in ways that'll affect others around us.

Therefore, Oya has decided to become akin to me in a manner that only people like my sister can be. As long as we partner together and work to fight against tough odds, he's willing to empower me with a unique gift.

Something I'd never expect—

Wooden totems run the length of only one of my arms, and the netting between them shines over skin resembling bark.

I reach out:

The table below Fatima's teapot trembles. Wooden totems must have some correlation or effect on other wooden objects—

Fatima's eyes widen in amazement.

"Such an ability! Unrefined, but it shows that you're more than capable of wielding zol. If you haven't already, I'd predict your personal Awakening is close at hand."

My extended arm suddenly weighs more than I can bear; it's as if the weight of the table's been transferred to me and applied to one limb. When I manage to draw it back, the table moves in my direction and then tips over Fatima's teaware.

"AVVA CURSE YOU, INGRATE! In less than two full days, you've caused more trouble than you're worth."

\-------

The pain that followed was too unbearable for me to stay upright. I buckled over as my arm turned a burnt reddish color, and Fatima took it upon herself to apply an ointment as she wrapped white strips of cloth around it tightly.

It stings pretty bad. I'm surprised she's so willing to prep another cup of tea before cleaning up the mess herself.

"Girl, your body's so... so..."—she puts her hands together—"weak."

"Bullshi—"

"If you curse in this house one more time..."

"I apologize—but, just because I'm not used to magic, that doesn't make me weak."

Fatima sighs. "This is not magic, moron girl. What I'm teaching you is a solid understanding of how the human body might be used as a weapon in this world.

"As you can see," she gestures at herself, "I could easily dispose of you, honey. Even with all the training you've told me about, you're nothin' but a small speck in the land of Gods. My, my, I believe that's probably how you were manipulated into finding me. Another being seeks my attention, albeit indirectly, and you've led it right to me."

"You don't know that."

"But that seems to be the clear answer here. Good Avva, I'm not so behind as to ignore what could be a coming threat, but that's exactly why you're here.

"If what we're dealing with is indeed a threat, then at least two of us would provide more of an advantage than one. Regardless of how I feel about you," she pours a cup and hands it to me with a polite bow, admitting, "you're more helpful to me as a bodyguard should the worst arise, and I suspect it already has—why," she exclaims, "you should be able to sense it by now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about—I apologize again for being an inconvenience, but I really do appreciate everything that you've taught me so far."

"Hmph." She smirks at me in a patronizing sort of way, like I'm more of an idiot than I know. "It's no matter. At this time, I must finish reiterating the basics of Shinte to you. More than anything else, it is important that you remember the best lesson I have to offer as well as the foundation of Giji-ko: precision in movement."

Without explaining further, Fatima falls into a silence that lasts for a few minutes before she leads me back into the garden.

"Now," she says, "I'll hypnotize you again, and we'll follow the same drill."

"Uh, I don't think..."

My legs can't take that sort of strain so soon. I've never moved so fast in my life, but the consequences of doing this are too much to use Shinte for every situation. Still, the old sage insists that I activate the state of Shinte through reinforced hypnotization. She says "go," and it doesn't matter how exhausted I feel once my body reacts with a burst of speed.

Fatima reaffirms the phrase "go" so deeply within my head that it's a sure trigger for my body after a little while. I attempt to sprint circuits around the garden, with her reasoning being that a controlled, high-speed run will strengthen my natural reflexes when processing velocities not meant to be endured by humans.

I perform a total of seventy complete circuits. As Fatima continues to pull the trigger, my speed still increases, but it's less noticeable each time.

I say "seventy" because I simply can't go on after pushing myself way past my own limitations, and I collapse from exhaustion. I'm not sure what time it is exactly, but it definitely feels as though a whole day of training has passed.

Fatima's kind enough to assist me into the bed she's prepared, knowing that I've lost any real motor control, but I can't help but be embarrassed. I tell her, "I'm sorry."

Before she leaves, Fatima, for the first time, speaks in a gentler manner:

"If I hadn't lost so much time..." deeply, she breathes in and out, "you'd have made a fine student, but I'm afraid that tomorrow's our last day together—actually, little girl, my time may be fading faster than I'd originally believed.

"I've failed to explain how I've stayed alive all this time, haven't I? It's quite similar to what Kei's got himself involved in, but I have my friend to thank for it...

"Tomorrow, you'll begin to understand, and we'll perhaps find out why you were sent to me.

"But first, honey, we have more work to do. Our training in Shinte is only half-finished!"

\-------

That night, Fatima uses Imago to enter my dreams, and there we reproduce the practices we've gone over in reality. This time, however, she's created a field with no beginning or end. Her hypnotization has left such an impression that the word "go" still compels me to use the same ability over and over—

—SHINTE—

The point here is to get my muscle memory down so that it follows over into the real world, and, this way, maybe I can Awaken.

I could wield zol, keep up with those at a higher level.

I use Shinte five hundred times. And then, the conclusion of this dream yields to the third and last day...

\-------

"Kamuy crave the kind of curiosity, attention, and compassion of which humans are capable." Fatima lectures me while the two of us meditate on a cobblestone patch in the garden, surrounded yet again by a diverse crowd of lethal monsters.

"In the same way that demons are said to have hailed from malignant characteristics of humans, kamuy merely hail from the need to feel symbiotic, the need for the unity experienced in loyalty!"

"I think I understand... can kamuy be killed then?"

"The answer to that question depends on whether a given kamuy has bonded to a sentient partner. Keep this in mind, honey: one of those creatures will always be short of their full power until they find a close match, and, once they do find a close match, it makes all the difference.

"You see, a stray kamuy can die, but a bonded kamuy can only perish permanently if their master perishes. Otherwise, they enter a mode called Hibernation, the state Piagorenu is in now."

"You k-killed Piagorenu?"

"Of course not!" she scoffs while ushering me to stand. "My attachment with my chosen kamuy is so steadfast that Piagorenu is willing to enter Hibernation at any time—he has good reason to, in fact!"

"Is that so?"

"Indeed."

She waves for me to follow her into a dense overgrowth and right before a series of tight trees that mark the entrance to an unknown section of the jungle.

"Can you still not sense what I've been talking about all this time, honey? Just so you know, this is the reason why your training's been cut short. If you'd only been blessed with use of the full three days, you might've stood a chance of becoming a basic user of Giji-ko...

"But, with something like this, we must proceed very carefully."

Fatima's getting on my nerves with how vague she's being. This woman's felt no friendship or human contact for years, so I guess it's understandable that she'd be so aloof. Still, I need her to elaborate if our time's really been cut short.

Once Fatima's gone, the only other trainer I know of...

Is the Grandmaster of the Angelos Association.

"If you enter Zen State, I expect that you'll be taken by the presence of great hatred. Its malignance is clear, easily felt, and the direction of it points just this way.

"When you first arrived, honey, the matter appeared much smaller. Unfortunately, all stray kamuy are destined to a different fate if they do not find suitable companions."

"What happens to them?"

Fatima remains silent while trekking through thick, thorned lattices of tangled weeds and shrubbage, brushing away each web that stands in her path without missing any. There's a small clearing up ahead, but I catch the smell of something burning before we can get much closer, and I rapidly come to the realization that this opening in the jungle's not a natural-made phenomenon.

There are haunting blue embers burning from the clearing; Fatima explains:

"They're called kamuy-baya, which Kei and I understood to mean spirits that have grown resentful of a lonely existence.

"Not every kamuy in this world has managed to find me and experience mutual compassion for the first time. Sadly enough, kamuy are typically incapable of relating to one another. In the wilderness of this place, they can often forget what compassion is entirely, and then these kamuy suffer a metamorphosis."

"They transform? Like Oya does when I'm angry?"

"It's not so well-understood. The kamuy-baya are spirits that've developed such a toxic mess in their hearts that they've become more monstrous, more savage."

Near to a wide oak on the far edge of the opening, some furry mass with muscled and clawed hands wraps its great arm around it and bites at something within the shadows.

The closer we get, the clearer the sound of it devouring its prey becomes. Fatima gasps, "It's no wonder that I've seen fewer familiar kamuy than before. This behemoth's been feasting on them!"

I can't yet make out what this thing is, but the monster's head is a shadow that tears at hidden forms and rips down the other trees nearby it with ease. It seems to taste each minor prey it captures and groans when finding ones which aren't to its tastes.

"Kamuy-baya can no longer form a bond with humans. They've molted into beasts which have cultivated a desire to kill and consume whatever they come across. With every meal, they grow larger, like angry children with bottomless appetites."

Fatima holds up a fist to signal "halt" right before we get too close, but it's too late—

The kamuy-baya catches wind of us, then it growls and twists in our direction. I still can't totally see what it is, but the head's narrower than I thought; it fits a row of jagged teeth, with green pus dribbling down its jaws.

"It knows we're here," Fatima mutters under her breath and then turns to me. "Every kamuy-baya is more than capable of escaping into the world of the Citadel, capable of killing those who can't see or defend themselves against them. I placed this sanctuary close to a rift in order to prevent the baya from wandering into human civilization and wreaking havoc, and it looks like this time will be the same as all the others."

"But, Master Fatima, I still can't use Shinte—at least, I'm not sure if I can do it on command! Does your hypnosis still apply to me?"

"No." She shakes her head. "It's been too long. From now on, you'll have to learn how to use zol for yourself."

The colossal kamuy-baya struggles to lift its overweight torso from the ground, which itself clears several yards while in a severely bloated state. Its covered both in scales as well as fur, and its head is that of a black crocodile with the dark red mane of a tiger. Emanating out from its body, I see and, at last, feel a dark aura that envelops rotten skeletal arms jutting out in pairs all along its midsection. The back of the kamuy-baya is in grotesque contrast to the rest, narrowing, at first, at a small point before becoming broader than the rest of the torso and rounding out into the shape of a spider's back end, all set with rows of pincer-like legs angled in every direction and squirming aimlessly.

It stalks us from the front. Part of its presence, along with its full attention, draws toward where I stand. I sense that I might not be able to outrun an enemy this dangerous, and then it snorts in commencement of it pacing, readying to let out a deafening roar at any time. I look to Fatima—

She shoves me!

Enshrouding herself in Shinte and utilizing her entire body, she pushes me to fall onto my back. I've barely the time to comprehend why when the force of something faster than either of us presses a gust of wind against my face just as a second threat closes in on our location.

Another dark form, about the height of Fatima, launches toward the sage; all I can hear is its shriek and then the sound of its fist soaring to collide with one of Fatima's forearms!

Continuous surges of energy, extending from the new kamuy-baya's attack, collapse in on the old woman's body. She groans under the strain of holding off a strike that might've been strong enough to shatter moa...

The bones in her right forearm bend, start to collapse, and she uses it:

—SHINTE—

Fatima phases backward and away in time for the attack's magnitude to be redirected downward. Hard soil's torn from the earth, giving way to a deep, newly-made depression in the ground.

"Master Fatima!" I get to my feet just as her assassin takes notice of me.

This one isn't as imposing as the other, but it's terrifying in its own way. The smaller kamuy-baya, presently flanking us from behind, looks like a chimpanzee, except its face and red eyes are almost concealed by a huge amount of black fur. After it glances at me, the bastard reels both lips back to brandish gnarly fangs as its form of a threat, and...

I sense him again. I know that the devil's come calling. I pivot and sprint to my right to square off with a third presence.

I wind back one arm, trying to concentrate on Shinte—

I've got to perceive that sensation again for myself. I must make this power mine. It's all or nothing, and I throw a haymaker at the devil's jaw!

—Catch.

He's stopped me in place. Claws flickering with images of a bleaker universe dig into my fist.

I'm forced to confront Ikihigo directly.

I invoke a contract initiated as a penalty.

Ikihigo uses the power of his Imago to transport us to the same place Fatima utilized to train me within my dreams...

\-------

Let it be known, Aaliyah of the Dawn Bureau: Striking me again constitutes a violation of our new contract.

I'm trying to keep my balance while on a tall pillar and as a heavy storm appears to be on its way. This time, instead of making me nauseous or having me black out using his Imago, Ikihigo's trapped me in a familiar place, and I feel... aware.

If I just enter Zen State, I can remove him from his throne, change things to my advantage—but, before I can attempt to turn the tables—

Cease trying to cause me harm,

Lest misfortune befall you.

You, and those you know to be familiar.

This covenant binds us.

Therefore, the same applies to me.

I may induce no further harm to you,

Lest my legacy suffer the same fate.

This is my final lesson:

Roukilis, the Spectrum of Heaven's Mandates.

\-------

I'm back in the real world. Ikihigo hovers an inch away, still with his claws digging into my bleeding skin.

He steps back with speed that rivals Fatima's use of Shinte but keeps his creepy little eyes fixed on me. Even now, he continues to remind me of a batty Professor, and he speaks in the voice of his old persona, Husashi:

"Rather than kill you, human stain, I've enacted a barrier between our fates.

"Were you not my greatest student, you would never have experienced such an incredible blessing, but know that Heaven's Mandate are decreed by forces above regular demonkin, that every covenant invoked carries the potential of real and terrible consequences for those who breach the rules of a contract."

For a split second, I glance over at Fatima to check if she's preparing to fight either of the two kamuy-baya. If I can't take on Ikihigo himself, I'll have to settle for helping her in whatever way that I can, but—

Fatima's broken right arm dangles limply at her side. Blood's coming from her mouth; maybe she's suffered too much damage already.

I look back toward Ikihigo in an effort to plead with him, but he's vanished.

Behind me, he stands in front of the giant kamuy-baya, and it unleashes a ferocious roar echoes throughout the jungle. The giant beast lowers its head, appearing ready to kill Ikihigo, but the demon's way too calm during their encounter.

I never noticed it before, but, in Ikihigo's other claw, he carries a human limb that's been partially mauled. He offers it to the kamuy-baya.

"I've already a spirit companion of my own, the primate Mazaej," Ikihigo speaks in a dominating tone, "but I'm still granted those who could become my onomusol, and this one... oh, it is particularly powerful. Powerful enough to serve my needs for the moment.

"I shall name you Sadaka."

Sadaka gobbles down the arm, then it rears its head back once Ikihigo tries to touch the thing. When his efforts to calm it fail, Ikihigo gets quiet; he enters his own version of Zen State, and I say this because, just as the demon relaxes, Sadaka's shoulders droop. The kamuy-baya's tension suddenly eases off. Sadaka lays across the ground while staring away from us, lost in a trance.

"Fatima," I look toward the old woman, "are you all right? We need to make a run for it. Now."

"N-no." she manages to muffle until more blood leaks from her mouth.

Why can't she speak? If she's really this injured, then I need to take her place in the fight!

"Pupil! Pupil Aaliyah!"

Ikihigo's calling to me in such a friendly way that it fuels my anger and hatred for everything that he's done.

"I'm not your student anymore, ugly-ass fool."

I glare at the demon, bluffing:

"Even if I can't physically harm you, I'll develop my Imago past what you can do. I'll make sure that I put you through the same torture you forced on your victims."

"Ah, such spirit!" Ikihigo sounds cheerful. He's got a new pet, so anything I have to say probably won't spoil his mood.

For the last time, he's twisted enough to lecture me:

"Because of my many interventions, you have become my strongest student, Aaliyah. You've far surpassed those in your own line of work, and it is due to my actions.

"Therefore, in my parting with you here, it is only fair that I give you proper instruction. What you choose to do from here on out is up to you, although leaving the Mid and Lower-Cities alone might prove to be your best option."

"Damn you," I exhale harshly while trying to keep myself from lashing out. "What are you on about now?"

"Why, it's the reason behind Zone H's recent troubles as well as what I've been telling you all along. With a grand purpose, I've come to Zone H, close to the Lower-City, which itself has become overrun with those most vicious and vindictive.

"There's to be entropy, I'm afraid. The most despicable type of entropy, but, I must admit, it is necessary."

"And why would that be necessary?"

Fatima hasn't chimed in; she's too busy trying to read the monkey kamuy-baya as an opponent.

"Because this entropy is enough to fully sate an appetite that's gone long un-nourished.

"At the bell tower, ever present as the pinnacle of dreaded change, I believe you may discover answers to the questions you've been asking. There is to be a meeting that will mark the ceremony for a hungry god.

"It is a dark Sun that will bear fruit, Aaliyah, and it is under this Sun that you may find the reasons as to why you and Tavon were persecuted.

"This is a test you cannot pass, however. Though you have been the greatest of my pupils, you will also succumb to entropy if you go searching for those reasons. Endless entropy."
15

Farewell

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

IKIHIGO LEAVES US BEHIND BY SUMMONING AN OPPRESSIVELY RADIANT SHROUD, which takes him and Sadaka with it. Although Ikihigo's gone, his Nilusol, Mazaej, remains and seems ready to continue the fight, with both of his long arms outstretched as he tries to make himself big before Fatima.

He might not be able to hurt me directly because that could be considered a breach of my contract with Ikihigo. Plus, Fatima's life is still in danger if I don't help her take on Mazaej. I don't have any weapons on me, but I'll stand something of a chance if I can get my mind right.

I rush to her side—

"B-back off, f-fool!" she spits, glancing my way for a brief second before giving her full attention to Mazaej.

Mazaej lunges without a second thought, screeching with ill intent as he strikes out toward the old woman!

—SHINTE—

Fatima whirls past Mazaej, then she makes a spitting sound prior to whipping her wooden cane back as she throws off a sheathe.

Underneath the fake covering, Fatima's been hiding a weapon that's totally foreign to me.

Half of it is a purpled steel blade that cuts off at its midpoint and connects to a second blade that's attached by a cylinder bolt uniting them both. From this anchor, Fatima rotates the second blade around; she creates a forcefield of raw steel as she confronts Mazaej, who screeches again in response while absentmindedly digging at the ground.

The spinning second blade resounds loudly as it whirls in constant, rhythmic spirals. It seems that, in order to use it properly, Fatima must continuously allow the blade to spin while she moves in combat.

Mazaej howls and throws himself toward the sage with stupid abandon; Fatima responds by hurling her windmilling sword in front, slicing a shallow cut in Mazaej's forehead before the demon ape backs away just as blood spurts from his face.

Fatima spits. I realize why now.

All this time, this old woman's been carrying small, sharp needles between her teeth! She must've been holding them in her cheek.

She blows two spikes into Mazaej's chest and neck.

Aware that she's got the offensive advantage, Fatima advances on the kamuy-baya while waving the tip of her blade close, cutting through any possible defense it might put up in favor of trying to avoid being cut once more. Once Mazaej manages to dart to Fatima's right side, she pivots, crouches, then spits another needle into the cut she inflicted.

Fatima launches her final needle, but Mazaej dodges and rushes in to catch the woman off balance.

Fatima staggers as she tries to stand and clumsily slashes the air in front of her just as Mazaej closes the distance between them. At the same moment Mazaej takes a swing, another strike from Fatima's sword rends the monkey's hand in two!

Mazaej screeches, but—instead of escaping to tend to its injury—it swings its other hand at Fatima's opening and plunges its fist into her side, forcing the old sage off her feet.

She's sent flying toward the nearest oak tree, but, before her body can be broken against it, Fatima recovers by landing with her feet on the tree's surface and springing off just as Mazaej charges and swings again!

Mazaej shreds the side of the tree enough to collapse it. Fatima evades him, then she reaches his way with her blade and shouts:

—PYTHAGORA: BLOOD RUSH—

It feels like she's said something devastating, yet nothing happens.

At least, not initially.

Fatima's out of needles, and, though her gums are still bleeding, she looks over at me and declares, "This is my real ability, one that's unique but useful in every situation—it's also the reason why I don't need you. Hmph." She smiles before her expression turns serious as she faces Mazaej.

Instead of attacking as aggressively as before, the kamuy-baya shifts on its feet, seeming restless, uncoordinated.

—SHINTE—

Fatima appears behind Mazaej, whose reflexes have slowed so much more than usual, and he doesn't respond in time for her next move:

—SHUDO: FIFTY SLASHES—

Mazaej can only produce a whimper, which is cut short when Fatima's wrist flies at a rapid pace—so rapid that it's barely visible as it rains down slash after slash along the body of the kamuy-baya. Mazaej is rendered totally immobile, speechless as consecutive swings of the rotating blade tear at it with such strength that the thing can't even process its impending death.

And, in only a matter of seconds, Mazaej collapses into a blood pool.

Steam begins to concentrate around his broken form. He's a mess of fur and gore, and there stands Fatima above the form of the dying spirit, breathing hard as she drops her weapon to the ground and then falls to her knees while clutching her chest.

Without thinking, I rush to her side—but I can feel the tremendous heat Mazaej's shaking body gives off before I get too close. If I don't rescue her in time, Fatima might as well be boiled alive because this damn monkey keeps decaying.

Acrid clouds come together above Mazaej's corpse. While it dissolves into a mixture of liquid and darkened cumulus, I try to move the old sage to safety.

I don't make it very far before she puts one hand on my shoulder and motions for me to stop.

"I-I'm not so dead yet. Do I really look that old to you, honey?"

"N-No—I just..."

Fatima swats me away, then she groans while trying to stand on her own. It's obvious that she doesn't have the strength, so I step in to catch her before she can fall over again. Fatima tries to resist at first, but I close my arms around her tightly and say, with real firmness, "Enough struggling! I need to get you home and work on finding proper care—your arm's broken, isn't it? That monkey put up a hell of a fight."

"Nonsense!"

Fatima pushes me off then conjures up some kind of energy I've never felt before when around her:

A golden aura shines out from Fatima's body; she smiles defiantly. "After all the pain I've braved, you would dishonor me in my own home by pretending I'm not strong enough to carry it, girl? All it took to defeat Mazaej was precise aim; after I'd struck with my needles, I raised his heart rate. Dear... it was all too easy."

"Why can't you just admit when you need help?"

She snorts, "Not everyone shares the same mindset as you, Aaliyah. After meditating within the Lyceum, I'd thought for sure you'd know that."

I put my hand on Fatima's shoulder, but she gasps and steps back, which surprises me as well.

"Master Fatima, that was impressive, sure—but you need to seek out immediate medical attent—"

"This is not within your realm of understanding now, honey, but..." she sighs and looks on ahead.

Briefly, Fatima appears much older than before. Her breathing's just as heavy, and I'm afraid that she could pass out at any time.

"I'm sorry, girl..." she says.

"For what?"

"Hmm."

Fatima comes toward me and takes my hand in hers.

"Your heart was very sweet, but something took that away, didn't it? That man who hurt your sister, he made you really feel what he did to her, and so you coped with it in your own way.

"I longed for a student like you, but Avva has a funny way of bringing people together.

"I'm sorry because I have to leave you, Aaliyah..."

Fatima turns and begins to walk in the direction of her home. She says, with her back to me, "Even if it means prematurely graduating you as a student of the Giji-ko Style."

\-------

But I'm not letting her off so easily.

I follow Fatima back to the rift that brought me here and through that into the church of the world of Zone H, back to where kamuy don't overrun the land.

I can hear that the rain outside's picked up more from earlier, and the old woman's been ignoring me all this time. Finally, when she takes her seat, she decides to speak and emits the same golden light from before. The more energy she generates, the more the rift drifts near her body and is absorbed by her very spirit.

"That demon from before," she says, "Ikihigo..."

I'm so shocked that she's said something that I stutter, "Y-you know him, too?"

"I didn't, in the beginning, but now... yes. It seems right that he would be in this place. Ikihigo's begun scheming again, though I'm surprised that he's survived for this long."

The rift disappears behind her while increasing the power of her aura.

"I've a few more parting words to you:

"A true disciple of Giji-ko is also a true follower of the principle of persistence, honey, and so I guess I ought to try to reward you with some knowledge. You did come all this way..."

Fatima's eyes glow a duality of green and gold. Her teeth shine behind a beautiful smile. It's like—it's like she's aging backwards! Her body crystallizes in the same bronze from before, but, for the time being, she stays with me in this world.

"In order to grow in number and enforce the supremacy of Enrec, the Four Warlords enlisted the aid of the Ku'oh Nation, and the Ku'oh were, at that time, conducting what would become a widespread genocide of another species: the Hayashi.

"Ikihigo is partly to blame for the slaughter of millions of those who identified as Hayashi. Those with any traceable Hayashi blood were cut down and all because it served the needs of a country ruled by a cruel king. Ikihigo was on the same side as the Ku'oh.

"He is a creature of mischief, interested in nothing but creating chaos. I imagine that he's worked his way through a plot that could result in great grief for all involved. Aaliyah... girl, that thing feeds off disharmony, thus I suggest you stay away. Focus on Awakening for now so that you may live another day and develop everything that I've taught you."

"You know that's not gonna happen."

I smirk, but Fatima's not in a joking mood.

"Aaliyah, you will die if you go chasing after that demon. Whatever he's got in store for this earth... i-it's just not gonna be good tidings, dear."

"Then what do you suggest I do so that I can keep getting better? If I can't stand against Ikihigo, how do I stop him?"

"You don't."

She sneers.

"Go find the Grandmaster instead. Ask him to teach you what I couldn't."

"But why do you have to leave so soon? I-I don't understand..."

Fatima breathes in and exhales at the same moment the crystallization spreads.

"In a matter of minutes, dear, I will enter a state of Hibernation—the same state bonded kamuy enter when they perish on the battlefield, except the Gift granted by my Nilusol, Piagorenu, allows our relationship to work in reverse.

"In exchange for giving my life over to Piagorenu, my Nilusol grants me a prolonged existence, one that may be extended well into the next few years before my body finally gives in. It seems that beauty must either fade or die in the end, but my kamuy has done something truly wonderful for me. I owe Piagorenu everything. It is because of my Nilusol that I may live a few days in the real world before my increased age begins to take its toll.

"I knew that I'd be rusty, but I used my experience in the Maia and Pythagora Spectrums to coat blow needles in a technique I spent most of my life refining. If they break the surface of your skin, I may boost your heart rate by at least ten percent. If they stick, then it's fifteen!

"With each needle, the effect is more pronounced. Yet, by demanding the full extent of my strength in my fight with that accursed monkey, I can feel my time running out at a much faster pace. It's important that I continue to stay alive—at least, just for a little while longer, honey, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course, Master Fatima," I smile back at her, though I'm not ready for her to leave when there's so much more to know—"but why have you stuck around for so long? I mean, is there a bigger reason behind all of this besides training strangers?"

"I'm afraid that if I told you... you might think the worst of me."

"Ha! After everything you've taught me? Master Fatima, you've done more than anyone else. If I could give some of my life just so that you could train me lon—"

"Hush! Such nonsense belongs to a bygone age, child—don't you see how weak I've become?"

"Will your broken arm heal on its own?"

"It will." She nods more slowly than before. Time's slipping away, and the loss of her is really taking its toll.

My heart sinks.

"This time, though, it might not heal as fast as usual. As always, I've tried to stay in the best condition, waiting the same way I said I would."

I stare at her hard. "You don't mean..."

"Before the two of us parted, Kei promised that he'd return when he was done chasing a boyish fantasy. He was already a geezer himself, so I didn't expect that his delusions would ever persist this far. My, my...

"It's been some time, I can't deny it. It's been more than a few decades since we've tended the garden together.

"The plan was to live alongside kind spirits like the ones in the Spirit Lyceum, see, and we thought it would be just the loveliest thing to host guests from time to time. I'd imagined that the world outside might reach a peaceful state, that Kei might lose his lust for being the best at everything, and that my life would come together."

Fatima purses her lips in stern contemplation.

"We really loved each other, in the best of times and in the worst. I probably sound senile, I know, but I decided that I'd wait for him to come back, and then we could live out the rest of our lives in peace. No more war. No more conflict. No more worry."

"That sounds really nice."

"Does it?"

Fatima's happiness is clear to me in this moment. I don't know where she'll go and for how long, but I feel... sympathetic.

"I think I've only got about one more year left in me; beauty is a heavy burden to carry, mind you.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I want to spend the rest of that time to be with the one I love. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Y-yes."

I changed the course of my career by giving too much of a fuck about a simple man. Still, pity takes over, and I try to comfort Fatima, "I'm sure he's out there and ready to make his way back to you. Sometimes, people get lost and forget what's important to them."

She doesn't respond.

"Fatima?"

I want to reach out and touch her, but I know that's inappropriate. In the way that she spoke to me, Fatima reminded me so much of my mother.

"Thank you for everything you've done. If what you said is true, if you've really got so little time left..." I try to keep myself from breaking down.

I can't help but let a few tears come out when I realize that she's really left me. All that wisdom gone up in smoke, like none of that shit ever happened.

"I'm still grateful that you spent what you could on me."

I find my resolve.

"I'm sorry, but I won't retreat after I've already gotten this far, Master. I'll meet with Ikihigo. I'll defeat him. I've got to follow this case to its conclusion because no one else will, and that's why I'm the Commander of the Dawn Bureau—only I can take down a demon!"

Even though I raise my voice, more tears come, and, feeling myself lose control while walking away, I finally give in to emotion that's built up over time. My whole body's frozen in terror; I can't feel hunger or thirst. I'm so shook, and it's because I know that, at the end of the road, a challenge is waiting that's worse than anything I've dealt with so far...

A presence emerges from Fatima's statue, and its shadow begins to grow, making me look so small in comparison. Fatima's kamuy has finally shown himself—no, that's not what this means!

I couldn't see him all along. Piagorenu.

A mammoth bird with a torso that's over twenty feet and bends to accommodate taking up almost the entire chapel. Piagorenu's body is segmented, and each segment is specifically marked, each one baring a set of long, ridged insectoid legs that reach out and curl in the open air and below wings spread against the whole of the city, shining with a deep blue light. The head of it is covered in molted waves that produce ghost-like images of human skulls falling and collecting upon the ground, and a pink, flesh-looking liquid pours from its open mouth as shining, sapphire gems for eyes glare at me.

But maybe it's not a glare. Maybe Piagorenu appraises me as a friend, as him considering me to be anything else would've probably ended in disaster. Not even Oya could take a kamuy that strong, and it's only become that powerful via Fatima's spirit. The look Piagorenu gives me nearly causes me to reconsider what I'm about to do.

I'm ready to go beyond Tavon and match the level of those Noboros thugs—that's what should be expected of a Commander, at least. Still, if I have to face an animal like this, I won't stand any kind of chance.

There's no virtue in pointless hoping. I've got to move to win, though it might seem impossible.

I turn from the giant kamuy and continue out of the chapel, trying to navigate back toward where I know I'll find all the answers I need.

I cry, not because I'm likely to die, but because I soon come to understand that I'll never see her again. Fatima will stay here, in her garden. While I hurry off on my last mission, she'll wait until the end.

The last lesson to be learned, especially when confronting a demon like Ikihigo, is persistence.
16

Entropy

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

I'M WADING THROUGH THE STORM, my Kom Cell functioning as my guide toward a marker I placed earlier at the bell tower.

*Ring*

The sound that signals the beginning.

In the midst of rain and hail, carrying pounds of weight and adding to the heaviest downcast yet, the bell tower rings out.

The power is enough to shake the lower end of Zone H, where I'm wandering up and through the dregs of a forgotten part of civilization. The open, abandoned alleys wail with empty winds signaling that most everyone has abandoned anything approaching the Lower-City. I've entered the realm of bangers and devils, but I've kept close to cover.

I've nothing to protect me but what's been passed down through Fatima. No weapons or gadgets anymore, nothin' except the broken Eye on my chest. Maxwell no longer communicates with me, so I'm to rely on a collection of lessons in both zol and street combat in order to brave the dangers ahead.

On the other hand, the intensity of the storm is unusual. I don't think I'll have to worry about dealing with too much attention as long as I keep my head down and stay close to positions of concealment. By utilizing the shade offered by steel huts and projects made from basic concrete and left unfinished, I'm able to navigate closer to the blinker shown on my Kom Cell. It's gotten completely dark; I'm certain both the street gangs as well as the Knights have probably retreated into their respective vantage points.

The civil war for Zone H has been halted because of an unnatural event, but I know it's linked to Ikihigo. I fear he's planning on unleashing some deadlier contagion. If one Zone can be corrupted in this way, the rest of the Mid-City is just as vulnerable.

To think that the Bureau ignored this situation for so long...

Stark lightning rends the clouds gathered above. I plunge under the shield of a brown, leather tarp, which is held up by bamboo poles that span the long stretch of an open corridor running toward Kanne Boulevard before curving right and extending farther. I exit before the end, trying to avoid being out in the open, and I take to hiding behind strange, fattened, and bulging trees while dashing closer to my objective as I make a zipline through courtyards furnished with synthetic fields and plants.

I hesitate before moving behind the wall of what looks like an unfinished apartment building, then I sprint beyond, past an alley, and—!

A gunman's waiting for me in the next—someone with a fully automatic and held at the ready.

He's another Hayashi, wearing an orange beanie and trying to hide his face behind a bandana and a pair of red-rimmed glasses.

From the side, another stranger appears and points his pistol at the aggressor.

"No you don't!" he shouts, sounding somewhat familiar. "I won't let you harm a woman!"

It's the guy who took a bullet from L's kamuy—Tatsu'ey! Dude's still got on the same bloodied clothes and is stooped to the side while barely holding on.

"W-why the hell are you protecting me?" I say to him, and he seems taken aback.

"Why you—! Oh, ugh!" he drops his guard and completely forgets about the other guy as he focuses in on me. "I'm showing you that I can change and be more than just a simple hitman, you see! Y-you're such an amazing woman," he shouts and starts to shake with wide, nervous eyes, "a-and I've got to shoot my shot with you, even if it's in a shitty place like Zone H!"

"You can't be serious right now..."

This man's foolishness has left us both exposed.

"My full name is Tatsu'ey Gionoma. Nice to meet you."

"Tatsu'ey, you're the thirstiest man I've ever met."

Another member of the Iketsun appears behind Tatsu'ey and rams the barrel of a shotgun into his back, forcing Tatsu'ey to the ground before the other banger grabs the idiot's weapon and points that at me, too!

"Where's her pet at?" I hear another voice; this one's familiar enough for me to place the name immediately:

Crown Gosuke.

I didn't see them earlier, but dark shapes have shifted in sequence with my own steps, tracking me and staying one step ahead during my journey.

I don't know when it happened, but, not long after leaving Fatima, Gosuke must've surrounded me with his guys. I haven't encountered anyone because the Iketsun intended for it to go this way, though I thought they would've long forgotten about me. Gosuke's with about fifteen of them in all, and every one of them moves to stand in a line in front of him.

They're a firing squad, preparing to execute their victim.

Gosuke starts to clean the inside of his right ear, keeps both eyes affixed on my position, and levies a glock in my direction.

"Did you think we would let you leave?" his eyes turn to daggers as he says this.

He's been holding on to a strong grudge while I've been away. Gosuke most likely feels like he needs to reclaim the honor of the Iketsun.

"You thought we'd let some government bitch go and snitch on us to those assholes in the Upper-City? When you entered the throne room of the Crown, you already knew what was going to happen, right?

"You must have wanted it." Gosuke's smile is sickening to see. It reminds me of the bastard I killed who gave me that same look.

"Contact with the Iketsun isn't an everyday sorta thing. If you come through our territory, you'll be branded as either a rival or a potential member. One of those gets love while the other gets diced up; there's no in between." His voice gets louder, "Now, I'll help you understand the Crown's dilemma..."

He scratches his temple with the rear sight of his pistol before returning its aim back to me.

"When a human female comes all this way to visit a king, he's supposed to make sure she gets what she needs, right?"

"Whatever, Gosuke."

"AY!" another of the bangers yells, "THAT'S CROWN GOSUKE, CUNT!"

"Don't you yell at her like that, you stupid fish!" Tatsu'ey lets out an effeminate scream.

Gosuke points and shoots another round into Tatsu'ey's side, laying the fool out as he cries in agony.

Pretty soon, I'll be next...

But I won't go down like a weakling.

"The Crown is feelin' kinda magnanimous, fellas..." Gosuke studies his men with a wolfish grin and famished eyes. "We'll make good use of this specimen—like the humans did to us, like they did to the ones who came before us! We'll make sure she suffers everything we were made to for simply living in the same city as them. How dare she try to interfere with a war for the spirit of the people!"

Gosuke gestures toward me dramatically, exclaiming:

"This human is just another of those damn government scums trying to infiltrate and tear us apart, brothers. Because I—no—because this BITCH lied to my face, I declare that she's unworthy of the most basic respect, fellas. I declare that ya'll really make it hurt, make her feel decades of suffering."

"Should we shoot her first, boss?" one of them asks.

"Maybe we should start smaller—carve her real nice, feel me?"

"That's right..." Gosuke says back. "These official lackeys are all the same: doe-eyed pricks that ruin the lives of everyday people and make our operation tougher to sustain!"

They've all banded together against me. I've no choice now.

I'll try to use Shinte—Shinte for speed—and then I can use Imago to knock Gosuke off his guard! Perhaps I can do more than that, for if I use Imago to take their Crown hostage—

The sound of flesh and bone being sawn open reaches my ears before I see it all happen. Shock sets in, almost preventing me from focusing on what's going on now—on him!

Gosuke's head flies from the top of his neck—

It's carried to the ground by a short, agile form.

In one arm, a boy holds the decapitated head of the Iketsun's leader, whose body tumbles to the ground before anyone else can take notice of this sudden execution.

He's in front of me, with his back turned, but I don't believe it...

L.

Lance drops the head of the Crown, then he glows with a dark-emerald light as he extends one arm out:

His veins burst from the entirety of his right arm; they tangle around each other, burning with green static, illuminating particles prior to fusing and growing into a string that stretches hundreds of feet.

L reaches toward the peak of a rounded tower. His veins touch the height of it, plunge into its infrastructure, and smash through any resistance!

L draws his body up, then he swings past the rest of the Iketsun soldiers, who just turn in time to ready their weapons and begin firing. There's nothing I can do at this point aside from striking down one of the gunmen, but, seeing as they're rollin' deep, drawing their attention might not be the best route.

The small figure of Lance changes direction midair while he uses his left arm to generate another rope made from his own veins. He soars past bullets that shriek through the wind and cause my ears to ring.

Lance concentrates on all of them at once. He uses his free arm to generate a different sort of assault.

L aims at one of the bangers and shoots something that, at first, is unseeable. Just as the gunner flinches from what looks like a weak impact, L changes direction again, zooming overhead as he latches onto another towering construction and swings past a second barrage of gunfire, which prompts me to get down in order to avoid being hit.

"GET HIM!" I hear someone scream before they all settle for spraying at everything above.

Instead of tracing Lance's speed, the rest of the Iketsun start to shoot recklessly, and this causes L to eventually fuck up.

Lead glances the end of his right foot; its flight away is punctuated by blood and a scream that isn't at all human. That thing swinging above us can't be the same punk-ass kid. I didn't think he had it in him to hurt anyone, much less take out Gosuke himself.

Although there's no way of predicting when he could take another bullet, Lance continues to shoot back at his opponents and then finally lands in front of where I am, like he's guarding me with his body—that, or I'm not a part of his list of targets.

He reaches out to them with one arm, freezing in place while appearing as if he'll shoot one of his strings directly at them.

It'd be a dumb move, one that'd get us both killed.

"L!" I call to him. "What are you doing?"

COME ON NOW.

An unknown voice comes from out of the boy's mouth. It sounds so distant...

YOU'VE WON.

FINISH ME OFF.

The Iketsun are too astonished at hearing him speak and aren't as keen on pulling triggers when smoke the hue of dead lavender streams from his eyes and nose.

HURRY UP.

IF YOU DON'T SUCCEED, I'LL EAT YOU.

Three of them fire. The rest follow behind half a second later, creating two separate shockwaves as dozens of bullets soar toward Lance and—

Each one slows. I'm near convinced that time might've slowed down around me as well—but, no... this is something else.

Each round strikes his hand at a different point.

And every one of them bounces off with a hard recoil, as if they'd touched steel.

Heh.

That should be more than enough.

Lance clenches his hand into a tight fist—

On cue, and with no further explanation to the Iketsun, Lance triggers a jolt of extreme power with just that fist, and each vein that he launched at his targets before becomes a glowing red mass that catches fire.

The result:

An explosion follows that no human being could ever take. It's so strong that it causes the Zone to tremble as it shears rifts into the hard steel and concrete of surrounding buildings while shattering glass windows perhaps a distance of a few miles away. The aura around L expands to absorb the impact of what he's done, and then the boy swiftly turns—

Turns to face me, with eyes like black marbles giving off a scorching steam.

"Ikihigo! Is that you?" I shout while getting to my feet, though I know I'm outmatched. This is made even more clear to me when I see nothing left of the mob but charred bones and burning smatterings of flesh.

Whatever's possessed him doesn't immediately respond and seems to analyze me instead. It knows I wasn't a part of its original target base, but that doesn't mean that I'm not a potential enemy.

Zen State.

If he keeps me waiting for very much longer, I'll try Imago and—

"This human was given a task that he realized he couldn't accomplish. At least, not without my guidance. I'm afraid that your 'Lance' has been Awakened; however, I still require that he fulfill my conditions."

"Your... 'conditions?'"

"Whatever business you have with my disciple, I'm afraid it must be put on hold for now."

The spirit forces L's body to begin walking. It's heading the same way I am.

"The bell tower calls. It calls for a last meeting."

\-------

Following the demon that's taken control of Lance is leading me between worlds. My understanding of zol has increased and so, too, has my awareness.

I notice Oya now walking at my side. He's more timid than usual. His body's engulfed in a smaller flame, indicating that he's prepared to strike out at something I can't perceive.

We're stuck between two realms: the demon world and the human world. Their combining creates a black wall that obscures everything ahead. There's hardly any light in one of the darkest parts of the city, and I'm unsure if I'm even in the Citadel anymore as my surroundings become primarily rocks and limestone. It feels as though we're passing through a cavern, and the rain stops just long enough to span the duration of it before I'm back out in the open, and...

The rest of the city above's been left behind, replaced with a nightmarish, purple sky. In the center, there's a Face—it's where a moon should be, but this... it's haunting. It's like that sphere's glaring down at me.

Broken and bloodied cobblestone lines the path ahead and has us pass under stone archways preceding an ancient and dark pillar that's raised high enough that, in the real world, it might just touch the higher end of the Mid-City. Stone steps wind around it, and, once the two of us start to proceed upward, I'm brought back into reality.

\-------

I'm at the real bell tower. When confronting Captain Zhou, Ikihigo must've tricked me from the very beginning because I don't remember it looking this way. I'm braving what's actually panels made of steel, not steps, and aligned around an ivory pillar which contains an elevator within it. There are a series of elevator doors placed at different elevations along the path to the top of the tower; the Lower-City below gives way to a long drop covered by dense clouds.

I can hear the storm letting up a bit, but thunder continues to sound at least every once and a while. Something inside makes me want to believe that the reason for this damned storm is tied to what I'll find at the end of my ascent, and I want to believe that there's a way to stop it.

When we've passed the seventh elevator door, reaching the midpoint of the tower, Lance stops near a distortion marked by a point in space that shifts and converges in on itself, sort of in the way you'd see if the heat in an open desert picked up and turned visible. Something about this kind of aberration bothers me more than anything else I've seen so far. It's more terrifying than any demon or kamuy—it causes the atmosphere to change in a perpetual way. The closer I move toward it, I'm offered hundreds of alternate views of reality, with each one appearing in a different shade, time, and showing geographic points such as a great, erupting volcano, the peak of tall, snow-capped mountains, and an ocean lined with electrostatic waves that go on into nothing.

The only figure that remains constant is L himself. He nods toward the rift:

"Here lies the vision of a mad man, one led by another mad man. If you've talked yourself into coming all this way, then I suppose you might as well start to learn.

"Perhaps you'll learn too much..."

I approach the rift on my own and without any particular reason why. It reminds me too much of the rift that held the Spirit Lyceum, but there's something different about this one. Instead of sensing the presence of another world, I can only feel one strong emotion that stays present: dread.

Everlasting dread.

Someone's mind calls out from a faraway place. There's been such an accumulation of raw emotion in this spot that a rift's formed as a result.

Did a human do this?

"Some poor soul left behind a painful memory. 'Memories,' I should say, for there's more than one sin that has been committed."

I reach into the rift itself, allowing a sensation to pass over me that I can only feel when entering Zen State. There's intense pain, bad enough to cause me to shake. I want to run, but the stronger my Imago grows in Zen State, the more clearly I can witness what's really an event that happened not too long ago. It's a series of memories, memories left behind by someone who regrets what he's done a great deal.

I sense an evil greater than what I felt from Erig.

\-------

"Can you still see me in there, Frederick?

"Can you see what I've become, Frederick? Are you listening to me!" he asks while holding the severed, eyeless head of someone I don't recognize.

Who is this?

There's a thin, tall, and frail man who shakes while rummaging through a garbage bag full of limbs and organs.

"I hope you'll forgive me," he whispers, quivering in a crouched position.

The stranger's dressed in formal attire, and his slicked-back hairstyle is all but ruined from how much he's been sweating.

"I-I might have gone overboard, Frederick. I tried to stop myself—I promise I did!"

Czhuln.

M'urnek.

"NO!" he screams, covering his ears as a vein pops out from his reddened forehead. "I WON'T DO IT AGAIN—I WON'T! I WON'T!"

He continues to scream this until he breaks down in tears and clenches a smaller trash bag tightly.

"I've killed so-so many...

"Isn't it enough? Aren't you pleased? And the eyes. I ate them for you, too! You saw it, didn't you? I know you did—I know you wanted me to taste them! Oh Avva, how I cherish it!"

The mad man grabs even more tightly onto the bag, causing blood to leak from something soft and not very resilient.

"I'll have it for myself then."

He takes out the heart of Frederick, salivating while looking over the rest of his victim's body.

"You're making me feel this again, even though I promised—I PROMISED—that I wouldn't eat them! I'd just drop the bodies, like he said, but... I can't help myself.

"H-how could..." he chomps down, rending flesh with his teeth and speaking through the blood that runs down his chin, "How could you give me this hunger and expect me not to sate it? T-This—THIS!"

His voice changes as he continues to devour everything he can, bones included.

LIFE AS A MORTAL,

EATING MORTALS.

AMOUR,

HOW WONDERFUL!

\-------

The memory's gone, and so is the rift which held it. I've been left alone, close to the height of the bell tower. L must've abandoned me, and this might mean that I've absorbed something that I shouldn't have.

That man's evil goes beyond Erig's capabilities. For all I know, he's still out there, and so I'm happy that I've made sure to remember his face. If Imago may be trained in the same way that Shinte or Shungej can, then I'll store that memory for myself in order to help track down that bastard.

And then that name: Amour.

I have to keep going. I know that what I'm looking for can't be far ahead. I've got a renewed kind of energy, the kind you feel when approaching the finish line, and I come close to breaking into a sprint while continuing my flight toward the top.

I cover more ground, meeting the heights of legions of dark clouds that turn to a heavy fog obscuring the way farther along and anything past three feet from me. I hear the voice of the demon that possessed L:

I don't know who you are, but the memory you inherited would destroy the mind of a normal human. I'm sure you must be gifted, but I must warn you: do not continue on this path. What's ahead is more than you could ever imagine.

"If you don't stop now..."

Shut up.

While activating Zen State, I reach out to the demon's presence and say again: Shut the hell up.

It doesn't respond afterward, then I realize that I might've mastered going to and from Zen State after having used it so often. If I can maintain it in the fight to come, I'll be able to use Shinte on my own for the first time. With Shinte, I know I can stand a reasonable chance; regardless of whether I do, this is what has to happen.

And then, I'm on the last bit of distance I need to cover before I've hit the plateau, on which rests steel columns anchoring a giant, platinum bell that's amplified by three speakers and that can only be moved by a series of gears and levers within each column; they're connected below by haphazard, metal webbing.

The skies have darkened even further, blending both midnight and a deep crimson. Within all that darkness gathered above, I see what I was hoping I wouldn't.

The Face does exist. It's a giant black moon—no, it's too big to call it that. This star, engraved with a demonic face, is at least twice the size of our normal Sun, and this one glares...

It glares at me, and I immediately feel violated by something foul. Entering Zen State while under its eyes feels like a death sentence, and that's because this devil's gone and invaded that part of me. It's found what peace of mind I have, my Imago, and it's taken that from me. I suddenly understand that, against this species of god, humans are defenseless.

I've... lost.

The Fifth Captain is at the base of the tower. I think he's watching me as well.

Captain Zhou's become a bloody hunk of flesh with dark, beady eyes resting back in sunken crevices that belong to what used to be his face. He's been changed into a gory mess of bloated human parts mixed with fat tissue, which seeps out in several spots. There are black clumps of fur mingled with a carcass at his feet. H-he's... chewing. Around his neck, I notice something else:

An iron, spiked collar.

Zhou sprints at me before I can come up with any plan—

He lowers his bloody head to crash hard into the stone summit, then he plunges toward me with his entire body, bounding and covering the distance between us in one grotesque move.

Zhou rears his head back and snarls. He sweeps out at me with a fat arm covered in a beast's entrails. I'm stuck—shook past action.

It's such a horrible creature. The malice I feel from this thing is overwhelming, more so than Piagorenu's presence!

The Fifth Captain chokes, using what's left of his face to grimace in agony once the collar tightens around his neck, and then, with a slight grunt, someone holding the chain binding Zhou jerks his monstrous form back.

Zhou decides to respond by roaring right in my face, hurling out chunks of decayed, raw, and undigested meat from endless rows of red teeth. Wet particles smack across my left cheek, but I close my eyes in time to avoid getting anything in them.

A second hard tug follows:

Someone lifts Zhou from the ground.

Another onlooker, who's been watching me up until now, swings the large, shining chain attached to the collar with barely any effort, yet the strength behind it's enough to dash Zhou's body against the wall behind him.

Zhou tumbles and rolls in a mess of his own flesh to sink into the ground, but he's not dead from that. Instead, he breathes in heavier as dark static glimmers over him. He's looking more and more charred.

I smell burning; he's being cooked.

Aside Zhou, there sits a man I'm shocked I didn't notice before, though it's fast approaching midnight. To see him is to acknowledge that a whole other manner of human exists, one who I never would've believed could walk the Citadel.

He's in a seated posture, with his legs crossed. Even from that position, he had the force needed to make a giant beast submit. When he stands, three braids dangle behind a nine-foot-tall giant, whose shoulders could span the width of the bell tower itself. Each arm is the size of my entire body, and his jaw is narrow at both sides before coming to a sharp point at his chin, which sticks out farther than sharp cheekbones and a set of thin sunglasses which just manage to cover both irises.

Above him, I finally sense it:

Zol is now entirely visible to me. Oya starts to burn with a stronger fire than before, but, at the same time, I spot Him...

Eyes From The Void is here, and he's at the very top of the tower, face turned toward the Black Sun itself, and, for the first time, I can clearly see wispy lines of energy drawn from both It and the Noboros thug.

From the giant human's left, I see a form begin to walk out, but—

His body flashes through the air faster than I can see! The giant doesn't even use Shinte!

He's standing in front of me and looks down with no real expression. His voice is deep; it's totally indifferent and somewhat primal.

"Are you another member?" he asks me, "Where is Inen? He's late again."

"I-I'm..." I stutter because I can't yet figure out the correct response. If I tell him the truth, then—

"Your little pet is angry, isn't he? I sense faint power from you—hmm."

He smirks while baring the teeth of a tiger.

"You've come all this way for... what? To be eaten by that thing, too?"

"I'm afraid that I know her, milord," interjects someone else.

I should've known. If Eyes is here, then his buddy must be as well. That makes a total of three Noboros gang members. The combined strategies of me and Tavon weren't enough to fight two.

Spilsbury approaches from the side and is luminescent, shrouded in a blue and white light around solid, ivory bone, thickened and grown outward in a ridged shield around his body. He's prepared for another encounter here, though I doubt I'll be getting any backup aside from my kamuy.

"What's she doing here?" The giant looks to Spilsbury, clenching both fists. The aggression in his tone is palpable.

"She's to be the final member inducted into the ranks of Noboros."

"Absolutely not." I say, and both immediately stare back.

"Are you still resistant, girl?" Spilsbury cocks his head to the side, and the sound of bones cracking rings out.

He extends two long pikes from above his fists and breathes in deep while resting them at his sides.

"Don't you know what an honor it is to be chosen? My, I was nothing until the young Sensei brought me to my knees in battle and showed me a way out of hell. You simply don't understand. Glory awaits those who utilize their powers for a shared benefit, my dear."

The giant brushes me out of the way by merely walking forward and seeming to forget that either of us exist when his attention's suddenly taken up by something. He ignores everything happening behind him—even when I call out:

"Hey, bastard! You think you can just treat people any way you like?"

Oya explodes in a burst of light—he unleashes a tail that reaches much farther above than ever and in an arc of scorching fire!

Spilsbury retracts one of his blades and places his hand on my shoulder. I nearly gasp when meeting his eyes, feeling rage foster inside of me. If I have to fight alone, I'll at least take this mothafucka out while I've got the chance.

Zen State.

"Enough!" Spilsbury barks.

"The Sensei has arrived—don't you know that you stand in the presence of magnificence? The King of Noboros has been summoned by older royalty; now the ceremony may begin."

"What are you talking about? What ceremony?" Trying to find what empathy I can in this calcified abomination, I look into his empty eyes for answers, but he only points toward the meeting between two strangers.

A young man in a white button-up that's tucked into grey slacks beams an innocent smile at the giant. He bows and then staggers before clumsily kneeling as he pushes his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

"Sensei Zunaga!" he exclaims.

The King of Noboros, who looks more like a serious scholar, offers his hand to Zunaga, but the prick doesn't even pretend to humor the gesture.

He continues studying the newcomer.

"Ah," the young man finally gives up and scratches the back of his head, his nerves a little heightened, "I'd almost forgotten about your warm attitude."

With more speed than anyone can track, Zunaga grabs his head.

He frowns, appears to consider breaking Inen's neck, then he says: "You've become weak, Inen."

"W-what?"

Inen, who's been strangely calm and jovial up to this point, drops his guard. He falls to his knees while looking up and pleading with despair, "Sensei, that... —y-you're wrong! I've spent all this time studying—following the path I promised you I would in order to uphold your teachings!"

"Pfft." Zunaga spits at the ground next to Inen. "I don't give a fuck about my 'teachings' anymore."

"You mean..." Inen's eyes widen, and I pick up on a disturbing adoration he seems to have for this guy. "You haven't returned to lead Noboros again? We've been coming to and from the Citadel, hoping for the day you'd break free of that place—

"We used Nezdia to infiltrate—to see what we could do to help now that the Fourth Quadrant's no longer in the hands of the humans.

"Please, Noboros needs its true Sensei to return, as I've not finished learning everything I can from you. Please, that must be why I'm weak—i-it's because you've been absent for too lo—"

"That's enough." Zunaga cuts Inen off while starting to move past him.

The giant stops for a moment and, with his back turned, continues to speak:

"I did you this favor, but I had expected that you would've grown in power in exchange. I had expected you to show me the results of everything that I've passed down because,"—Zunaga turns and points at Inen with a fierce scowl—"I made you the leader in my stead!

"What a fool you turned out to be..."

He walks away, but Inen calls out in desperation:

"Sensei! Where are you off to if not to rejoin us?"

"Nowhere in particular. My wish is to find the rest of those who studied under me and to see if they, too, have spoiled their talents.

"Inen..."

"Yes, Sensei?" Inen grows excited again at being addressed by his old master.

"Hmph."

Zunaga gets into a lunging stance as he focuses on something far off in the distance. His eyes search the dark skies above for other points of interest, then he says, "I'll give you one year."

Both of Zunaga's thighs burst as a result of pressure generated from within; they expand into twice their usual sizes. His midsection broadens somewhat, and a series of flared veins pop on the right side of his neck, trailing along to reach his temple.

"One year. And, if you haven't gotten stronger by then, I'll rid the world of such pitiful ability.

"Until then..."

The ground beneath Zunaga cracks—

He springs upward, soaring at an incredible speed, traveling through the air while keeping himself composed. Zunaga's large stature steadily shrinks as he covers an unbelievable distance with one powerful leap, and, soon, he's nothing but a dot on the horizon that lands somewhere hundreds of miles away before taking off yet again.

The surroundings of the bell tower fall to a quiet hum, one that's made from the sound of Eyes From The Void as he continues to communicate with the Black Sun.

"I-I thought he'd want to come back." Inen doesn't look my way.

Zunaga's words seem to have destroyed any confidence he had.

"It's not your fault, Sensei—"

"Don't call me that. Not right now—not after what our leader declared..."

"He's not the King of Noboros anymore for a reason, Inen." Spilsbury moves to console him. To my astonishment, he expresses genuine sympathy, "You've chosen a different path than the retired Sensei Zunaga, but he hasn't yet seen this. There's no way he could've known simply by gauging your growth in Jeigon!

"Remember Inen," Spilsbury halts and brings one clenched fist out before him, "the study of Zol encompasses more than a single Spectrum! This is what you taught me when we dueled each other for the first time—it is how you managed to win, after all." He grins.

I speak up; it's time to get the answers I've wanted all along:

"Inen!" I shout. "Was I meant to come to this place?"

I quickly glance back at the Fifth Captain, who groans helplessly and no longer seems as interested in devouring me.

The King of Noboros hesitates, long enough for Spilsbury to try to act of his own accord and speak for him. The skeleton bastard makes strides toward me, but, with his head still hung low, Inen stops him with one hand.

Spilsbury steps aside with a strange gentleness as Inen confronts me.

I'm beset with anxiety when he doesn't make any eye contact and continues glaring at my feet. It's like his mind is somewhere else. I don't know if my Imago's coming into play here, but... shit, I sense anger. It's a disturbed and twisted sort of hatred that flows around him in a faint, scarlet outline, and then it spirals out from Inen in waves just as he looks up at me with a wide, crazed smile.

"Eyes From The Void is in the middle of negotiating with a Mulungu, which might make my introductions appear rather curt, miss, but I assure you that my intentions are pure.

"My name is Inen, and I'm a student of zol, a true disciple of Power."

"Not according to Zunaga."

"Hmph." Inen bares his teeth disgust. "Even after standing in His presence, you still poke fun at His students."

With that big ape gone, Oya and I might stand a small chance, even if it means dying in one final struggle. Still, I don't know what Inen's capable of. His zol doesn't come with the same kind of pressure Zunaga's created, but I'm too ignorant of the subject itself to begin making presumptions.

I'll stick to finding out the truth, though I'll have to make a decision shortly.

"Why did you want me to come to this place? What are your plans for Zone H?"

"This is not about what's going to happen to Zone H, Aaliyah. No...

"This is about what's going to happen to the Citadel, to those yuppies far above us, enjoying Utopia in full, while the rest endure mediocrity and substandard conditions of life.

"And then there's those living in the real world, below the Citadel—those suffering from the harshness of raw brutality. You're young, so I'd imagine that you don't yet comprehend the entropy happening all around us—and, I might presume as well, that you can't know how much opportunity that grants those like us."

"Like us?"

"Those Awakened, Aaliyah." He smiles and nods, though I'm not trying to be agreeable considering the circumstances.

"Your personal zol, as it stands, is quite weak, although it stands out from the zol I've sensed in many others. Actually," he says, "I've never seen a gift like the one you have. Aaliyah, did you ever feel that your potential might have no end in sight?"

"If you're trying to flatter me, it won't work."

"No flattery intended. I mean that, while your expressed zol is very small, your own reserves of it seem to be...

"Bottomless." His expression goes blank. "Potential is something that is either realized or discarded. Once realized, it, too, possesses its own limitations.

"But, you, Aaliyah, have no inherent limits. When I trace the source and full span of your energy, I can find no end and no origin point of tau, which are aura sparks that usually tell me the range of a stranger's abilities—hmph, but what a marvel you are indeed. Endless zol. What a concept..."

"Why have you gathered here—a-and what is that Thing above us?"

"Hehe." His grin gets deeper. "You still have no interest in being an ally, I see?

"Right now, Eyes From The Void has chosen to make the ultimate sacrifice. His presence will be very missed by all. Also, I'm afraid that leaves a vacancy which needs to be filled as soon as possible. You see, Aaliyah, I like to keep up our numbers in case we ever encounter something a handful of us can't deal with—which itself hasn't happened in so long that some members have probably forgotten all about me."

"How's that possible? You lead a syndicate, but you don't roll with the whole gang—where's the rest then, dude?" my voice raises without me being fully in control.

I'm still angry about his damn cronies ambushing me. How could he expect me to forgive them?

His eyes wander off, and he seems perplexed for a second before curving his lips into a smirk.

"I estimated that we would need exactly four members, myself included, to pull off this particular task and make our way again into the outside world. Four to bring together two unordinary elements, wouldn't you know? My school of disciples has formed a temporary coalition intended to benefit both parties."

"And what about Ikihigo?" I ask while nervously glancing back and forth between Inen and the wheezing behemoth behind me. "Is he one of you, too?"

"Well, well, that would make five, wouldn't it?"

"I wasn't sure if you counted that creature as a real person."

"You consider us 'real' people?"

This isn't a question as much as it is a hidden challenge. Inen stares at me again—

Immediate nausea tries to take me. I fight back the urge to vomit, and, after blinking once, I note that the two of us are now standing across from one another in the background of complete nothingness. A blue void goes on forever, with Inen's expression turning analytical. I now realize that every movement I make in response—every reaction—is being measured by someone stronger than Fatima.

"You're real, all right." I take a step forward. "But I can't be beaten with that old trick."

Before I know it, I've raised my fists on instinct and gone into Zen State without forcing it.

"You're partnered with a devil like Ikihigo, so there's no way you could have any compassion in your heart. It doesn't matter that you lead another gang of bustas, fool, I've dealt with delusional scrubs my whole life."

It's time to focus, to meditate on rapid movement. Shinte.

"For you to have such a defensive demeanor... hmm..."

Inen removes his glasses.

His eyes were never real. In their places, black and white balls, unraveling in fiery wisps upward, burn back at me, and Inen's body transforms into a statue of pure black.

Inen's form extends and stretches across the sky; his voice echoes out across the empty valley:

"I dislike people who yield to childish ideas of virtue."

The abnormal shape that was once the King of Noboros turns into a filthy river, with channels that divide and spread while raining down droplets that drift toward me in the wake of terrible winds.

One drop touches my forehead, and the black shadow above sweeps down to liquefy again. A thick noose forms around my neck—

I'm hefted up.

My once clear state of mind is shattered. I've lost my power—my handle of zol, and t-this noose!

... I-it's so tig—

Can't...

Can't... think...

"This is known as basic Imago: Sarabi. If you don't understand, then you can't lay claim to a higher mastery. While I'm impressed with your resolve—it's really cool, to be quite honest—it's unrealistic to think that you could stand against any one of us.

"You consider Ikihigo unreal because he's a demon, but this is like comparing an ant to an elephant, you see. Obviously, Ikihigo is a Ukjejido demon; therefore, he has weaknesses.

"He was well aware of this from the beginning, but, for reasons of his own, the demon Ikihigo offered his assistance."

How... am I still alive?

I've no oxygen left—I can't breathe. It's like I'm suspended between life and death, with Inen holding full authority over both.

"Ikihigo foresaw an opportunity to exploit the ambition of a vile glutton. He guided this glutton to do his bidding while increasing his power—and that, in turn, resulted in more and more devastation, more grief. More misery.

"Although I think the demon's interventions would've otherwise sufficed, another participant added additional fuel to the fire. I'd feared that Sensei Zunaga might refuse us, and so, as a needed backup, I found a patron for our services, a way for Noboros to profit as usual."

The noose releases from around my neck.

I fall... fall deep and endlessly, into a cradle of cruel eternity, and then—

I've hit the ground in front of that bastard in the real world, covered in sweat. I'm breathing hard, but that asshole is still standing where he was originally. I'd thought Eyes was the only one who could make me go through such a nightmare; how could some young guy—someone who looks as young as I am—have this kind of skill? I'm both impressed and pissed off.

"Y-you had Husas—Ikihigo kill those kids?"

"No—not at all! Why, the invocation of a Mulungu only requires suffering experienced by a massive amount of people. This part of the city, especially below, is RIPE with opportunities to invite in a Mulungu. However, it is the use of the Mulungu that has been important to us—or, rather, important to our patron."

"Who's your patron?"

I come to stand so that I'm not kneeling like a punk. I don't care if he tries Imago again—I've got to take him out! Oya's suppressing his flames; I know that he's grown enough to at least be my shield.

I look back, at the Fifth Captain, but some kind of energy's enveloped him. The giant abomination appears inclined toward Eyes.

On second thought, Zhou's transfixed by the Black Sun, like he's lusting for It to come closer, and that Face—good Avva! That hideous look It has as It gazes over the bell tower.

"Heh. I've been nice enough to tell you this much, and yet you've still such hostility. How can you be so dense, Aaliyah?"

"What did you call me?"

"Aaliyah, you must listen to me:

"In sacrificing himself—in sacrificing his mind, really, our twelfth member, Eyes From The Void, will become a solid Root for the Mulungu to harvest Its Nightmare. But, instead of a slowly-growing garden, I'm testing out a different theory.

"Zhou's body has accumulated more than enough grief to most likely send the Mulungu into a vicious hunger, and I firmly believe that, after taking hold of Eyes as Its Root, It will seek to consume the Fifth Captain next."

"And what does that mean, exactly? Inen, what are you planning to do?"

He holds back a laugh.

A laugh...

"You've done this kind of thing before?" I ask despite knowing the answer already.

In my mind, I've already marked him for what he is and condemned what he stands for.

"After examining your soul from within," his eyelids narrow, "I see that you think 'justice' is how you explain your own choices to yourself. You think you know what justice is—you think you have a solid definition of what makes a person 'evil,' what makes a person 'real' or 'unreal' to you.

"But really... truly, Aaliyah, what this indicates to me is that you're incapable of obtaining the mindset required. You're unable to learn Perfect Selfishness and thus, within that path, further improvement as well.

"I plan on Zhou growing from the Mulungu's influence. He will grow and grow, consume and create despair. There's no greater agony that can be derived than from robbing people of their privileges and then pushing them off their lofty heights into fast ends.

"When the Mulungu takes its Root, the Mid-City will, for the first time in decades, experience genuine terror. Terror followed by swift destruction and, unfortunately for you, this destruction will only be the premonition to a deeper entropy that's only begun. When these events have unfolded, more weaklings such as Ikihigo may very well make their moves on Zone H...

"But," he sighs and puts his hands on his hips while whistling, "that part doesn't concern us."

"Doesn't... concern you?"

Inen ignores me this time and proceeds to close his eyes, widen his stance, and breathe in deeply.

Absolutely not! I won't let him leave.

"Oya!"—both in my thoughts and out loud, I call the name of my Nilusol.

It takes me acknowledging Oya, pleading with my heart, for him to ignite. His tail stretches far above, then Oya growls when imploding once more. With each burst, I feel his flames strengthen. Oya strides in the direction of Inen, setting the world around us ablaze.

Within the inferno produced by my Nilusol, Inen chuckles...

A hound with no eyes approaches from behind him. It angles its torso around its master, meekly moving to block Oya's view. Just as Oya roars, my heart quakes. I can feel his thirst, but my natural instinct is to wait.

"Don't be shy, Weraugi. I'll watch over you."

Weraugi utters a low growl, his shaved skin becomes a blood-red shade, sparks of subtle aura dance along his body, and—from the back:

Instead of a tail, three appendages sprout; three more follow as the first three grow in length. The longer they get, the more they exhibit an odd curiosity to taste the air around them. Each tail resembles a worm that, initially, stretches as long as it can.

But, once groups of pink tendrils spread past a certain distance from Weraugi, every one of them abruptly crawls to where Oya's standing.

Oya sends forth radiant energy that staggers me. Demonic embers light up the way to Weraugi—

Then each worm launches simultaneously. While my Nilusol bolsters its inferno, Weraugi's tails pierce its skin repeatedly. Oya generates a series of consecutive bursts, searing away the tips of Weraugi's tails, but they're too ravenous to be stopped. Though Weraugi moans from the pain, his tails transform into aggressive, pink eels that burrow beneath Oya's skin, putting a end to his flames.

They spread through my Nilusol like parasitic branches, then Weraugi whimpers before tensing up. He starts to drain Oya of his blood, which doesn't take long, and, while Oya suffers, so do I.

My lungs fill with black smoke. I want to reach my Nilusol's Imago, but...

He's dead.

A collection of what looks like dust intermixed with fiery energy spirals toward me; with pain, there's also brief pleasure, a fire burning inside of my stomach. Oya's spirit runs through me, but I'm not sure how to use it.

Inen widens his stance. He's starting over.

I'm reminded of my own efforts to activate Imago, but he enters Zen State so much more smoothly. From his shirt's square pocket, he removes a small pencil and hovers the point of it below his lips.

Inen inhales, then he breathes out a thin stream of light which rotates over the lead tip. Inen traces a clean line across the side of his body. After that, he begins drawing a complex symbol, using tau, along the ground at his right foot.

With his other hand, he retrieves a second pencil, of the same length, and manages to produce more of the same light, directing it down the opposite side of his torso. As he simultaneously traces out what seems to be the same symbol, complete with detailed geometric shapes held within one another in smaller repetitions, he hums something that I can't hear.

I consider tackling him now. How long before things transpire the way he wants, before it's too late? Dammit. I'm so stupid! I came all this way to stop them, and yet—

"The fate of the Citadel is irrelevant," he says.

Each shape surges upward with thin, static-like arcs of tau that attach themselves to Inen's body:

—MAIA: BUOYANT HEAVEN—

Inen buckles over, crying out in agony, and his reaction's so sudden and unexpected that it provokes what sympathy I have left. I'm about to bound toward him, thinking that Inen's gone and misused zol, when:

Two long wings, one dark and one far too bright, sprout from his back and grow to outspan the tower; they slightly curl forward as the King of Noboros prepares to take flight. I can sense his power increase to a level I never saw coming, one close to what I felt from Zunaga.

Before Inen can make a run for it, I try to distract him while deciding on whether to attack:

"Why doesn't the fate of millions of lives concern you? Where are you going, Inen?"

Even with strange, feathery appendages coming outta this dude's back, there's something childish about him, and it's made more obvious when he shrugs in response to a serious question.

"What can I say,"—he grins—"we got paid."

"That," he tells me as the expression on his face turns sour, "and I'm in need of a new recruit to replace our friend up there."

"I never outright rejected your offer."

"There's no need to. It's been retracted."

"Retracted? Seriously?"

"What? Has the rejection not yet set in?" He tilts his head to one side just as his body's lifted from the ground.

I won't let him go—not after the crimes he's admitted to!

And I'm closing in on him without emotion, rushing forward as if it's an unconscious reaction, the need to fulfill my duty.

"INEN—"

He's only a few feet away; I know I've got enough force to tackle him to the ground. This is it!

—SHINTE—

My chest pounds with the fury of all the built-up anger and stored resentment I feel toward Noboros, then I realize that it's not my zol that's activated...

I've—I've been stabbed.

...

Inen's still there—b-but I can't move. All I can feel is a burning sensation in my back! There's someone else behind me, but it's not Spilsbury.

In this moment, I've either to try to overpower what's got a hold on me and keep going or risk facing a new opponent. I quickly choose the first option, and—!

Shit.

Inen grins at me as he ascends farther above—above me and a woman just a little older and much taller. She's put a fucking shiv in my back—can't tell where, but—augh! The pain's getting worse...

"So long, peon." Inen exclaims melodically. "I'm off to find Tavon! I do hope that at least one of you proves capable; I prevented your executions for a reason.

"However, if he disappoints me," Inen turns away from us in order to soar high and toward the other Zones of the Mid-City, "I'll be sure to kill him.

"Nezdia, I leave the rest to you!"

"Poor girl," the dark-haired bitch says to me, "our Lord didn't happen to be talking about your love, did he?"

The question's too playful for me, especially when I've let myself become this vulnerable. The burning spreads across my shoulder, wraps around to my side, and—

I cry out with the willpower left in me.

I spin, forcing my neck to the left to see—what? It's... impossible!

"What's wrong?" Black lips curve into a wan smile.

"Y-you've..."

I'm shivering now that I've seen what she's done to me. My whole body's on fire; dark ice continues to expand, c-continues t-to cover me. It's getting so cold, but I-I can't stop.

I break a mass of ice attached to me from what was once a shiv, now enlarged in her efforts to freeze me to death. I try to swing an uppercut at Nezdia just as my mind enters Zen State, embraces Imago, and I leap toward her consciousness. I reach out at both her eyes and move to make my entrance.

I can feel my influence and sight digging in, burrowing through her own psyche until—

Until I hit a wall of frozen white. I've picked up too much speed. I keep my aggression unchecked, and I try to shoot myself past—

Nezdia stabs me in the stomach. Ice engulfs me from the bottom up.

I know it's over, that I've lost, and yet I haven't learned...

Rage is still there. Deep in my heart. It's the same hatred I had for Erig, multiplied to an extreme, and I know that it's gotta be sated eventually.

I'm falling, forced to surrender while being transformed into a human icicle. Nezdia stands over me. She's smirking, thinking I can't hear her.

"Such a pity," says the cold bitch. "What an ugly vessel for all that resplendent power. Maybe if you would've gotten out more and been less of a prude you might've made a good fit."

\-------

"I can't believe it. She's still breathing!"

"Why, don't be absurd."

Nezdia's voice is faint, though both Spilsbury and her sound so hollow. I can't really tell where I am and what happened, but I know that I should be dead.

So why...?

"I froze her, dear. I felt her zol freeze—do try better when criticizing my beautiful work, Artemis."

"Try to feel it now, Nezdia, you fool! Zol is rising out of her body."

"What nonsense... I—" she pauses.

"Hmph. I must be getting sick. These things can't always be helped."

"Please finish off your enemies properly the first time."

"Whatever, Artemis! As usual, you're all talk, though you're the one who let them go. What do you suppose we do now? Wait for her to wake up and challenge us again?"

"Not at all. Inen only said to handle her as we see fit. That being the case, we have several options."

"The look in your eyes is so... mmm. What are you thinking, dear Artemis?"

He chuckles, waiting until he's finally thought it through. Then, and close to when I feel myself getting too lightheaded, Spilsbury says:

"I think I know of a way to double our incomes before I take my leave of this bitter city. I should have thought of it earlier, just in case she said no..."

...

"Oh my, Artemis, what a deliciously wonderful idea!"
17

Madness

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

PAIN FLASHES THROUGH MY SKULL. My head's aching, like it's been numbed for too long. The rest of me starts to feel the same as I regain sensation. Still can't open my eyes, though. Can't move much, either. It's... cold.

Is this how death feels?

I'm convinced that I'm holding on by a shred of luck, that this is only a prelude until the end naturally follows. It's not as bad as I thought it'd be—not nearly as embarrassing, thank goodness.

But then, I feel...

Water. Sweat, maybe.

The cold layer that once froze me over is beginning to thaw on its own. I don't think I'm at the bell tower anymore, but I don't remember being moved—gah! My head's pounding now! I just want to sleep. I want to wake up and forget.

Damn. It hurts so bad.

\-------

I pretend to sleep for a while, thinkin' I'll persuade myself out of waking up. The cold gives way to a pond of water; I'm shivering in it.

Gotta get back up. Gotta face what's about to happen.

My spine pops when I prop myself up on my elbows and try to open my eyes again, but the light's bright—way too bright. There's these... these fluorescent beams lining the ceiling, blinding me. I hold myself and feel so small.

My arms have withered down; my stomach seems nonexistent. I haven't eaten for some time. All of my joints creak with pain.

Guess she really did freeze me. It's incredible to think I survived it—wait!

I reach down and—

The stab wound's still there.

It was a mess of blood icicles, now turned into a small slit that still leaks but not enough for me to pay it any mind. The puncture wound in my back is probably the same; fortunately, I can't feel anything from either one of them, and that means that Nezdia was so confident in her zol that she didn't do a more thorough job of killing me.

No. Instead, that bitch delivered me here:

A mostly bare room with plain white flooring that matches the tint of the wall paint. I've got my back against the far side of the room, away from a metal door that's beside a small table. That table's set with one lone plate, which supports something I can't make out from where I am.

My legs shake with the effort it takes to stand, and I'm forced to use the wall for support, resting in place for a minute before attempting to take another step.

And, in placing one foot on the ground—

It disperses. Colorless traces of my own energy, energy that I can only feel leave my body, and, once it does, the pain gets real keen on trying to bring me back down. My body finally recognizes what's been done to it, and now the agony's making its way across every part—shit!

It's c-close to the worst I've ever felt, and my vision blurs slightly when looking toward the table.

Is that...?

Oh, Avva, it hurts!

But there's no way that can be...

A pipe.

Someone's left a loaded bowl of some substance on the table. If it was weed, I'd have already sniffed it out depending on the strength, but this is some other mess. It's a mix of small, black cubes floating in a darker-colored liquid. When I get close enough to touch it, I smell the garbage for the first time. It's like nothing but pure piss, probably a drug that would get passed around in the Lower-City.

What an interesting setup.

I take a look around and start to feel pangs of despair. This room's locked away from everything else, making me feel as if I'll remain here forever. If I hadn't noticed the pipe, I would've thought this was a basic waiting area, that I'd be meeting someone else from Noboros, but the fact that they've left this for me... it's a reminder that I'm a prisoner. Still, there's no reason for them to have kept me alive.

"GOOD MORNING, AALIYAH." a voice resounds.

"IT'S SO GOOD THAT YOU'RE AWAKE! DID YOU SLEEP WELL?"

Though it comes from everywhere at once, including my mind, I spot small, dark holes in a small ceiling corner, and, normally, I would've guessed he was using that as a sound projector.

But... this isn't natural. I can't place it, yet I know that the enemy's already produced his first deception.

"OH MY, THE POOR GIRL'S FAMISHED—WHY NOT TAKE A LOOK AT THE PIPE A SECOND TIME? I'VE HAD SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL PREPARED FOR YOU, AALIYAH, AND I'M EXCITED FOR US TO SHARE THIS MEMORY TOGETHER, AREN'T YOU?"

"Get out of my head. Now."

"HA! DAWN BUREAU PEOPLE ARE SO SILLY—I'M NOT IN YOUR HEAD."

He is.

"WHY NOT SIT BACK AND RELAX. YOU WERE GIVEN A COMFORTABLE AND RATHER FASHIONABLE OUTFIT—SOMETHING AHEAD OF ITS TIME, SOMETHING THAT I THINK WILL MAKE A REAL STATEMENT."

I've been dressed. Someone else had their hands on my body before I'd been released from Nezdia's attack, and they've zipped me up in a teal-camo jumpsuit.

"Did you—did you touch me, too?"

"OF COURSE NOT. BUT I DID CHOOSE THE OUTFIT BECAUSE I HAVE SUPERIOR TASTES WHEN IT COMES TO FASHION.

"NOW, GO AHEAD AND ENJOY YOURSELF. IT'S SAMO-SAMO, A HIGH-END, UPPER-CITY PSYCHEDELIC THAT FOCUSES ON CORTISOL LEVELS WHILE PUSHING USERS INTO A MUCH HEAVIER STATE OF SELF REFLECTION."

"And you want me to go and take this shit? Hold up, fool, because I wanna know who the hell you are, and what do you claim to know about me?"

"I'M REMINDED OF THE ELGUMBI PHILOSOPHER, M'SHIBAN—ELGUMBI IS AN IMPERIAL REPUBLIC TO THE NORTHWEST, BY THE WAY."

"I know where Elg—"

"'THE ENTIRE TRUTH OF ONE'S CHARACTER IS REVEALED BY THE AGONY THAT IS STARVATION, BY THE GRIEF EXPERIENCED THROUGH FAILURE, THROUGH LOSS, AND IN LIVING OPENLY WITH SHADOWS THAT MAY NEVER GO AWAY.'"

"Yo! I don't give a damn about this, and I'm not about to take anything you've offered me here. You know you've falsely imprisoned a government agent, right?"

"I'M VERY WELL AWARE, AALIYAH. HOWEVER, WHAT I'M NOT AWARE OF IS YOUR POSITION WITHIN THE DAWN BUREAU.

"IF YOU'D CARE TO ENLIGHTEN ME, I MIGHT CONSIDER LIFTING THE CONDITION THAT YOU TAKE SAMO-SAMO IN ORDER TO PROCEED."

"I'll proceed according to my own will from here on out. You're sick in the head, like all of your other friends in this mess, and I refuse to meet any of your demands."

"VERY WELL. THEN YOU WILL GET NOWHERE.

"—WHICH IS JUST AS CONVENIENT, I SUPPOSE. THIS IS ANOTHER SUBJECT I'VE BEEN MEANING TO WORK ON AS WELL: AN AUTHENTIC STATE OF FAMINE.

"OBEY, OR YOU WILL STARVE TO DEATH."

"Goodbye, moron."

I wait for a moment to see if this madman will say anything else. I'm not totally sure, but I think his voice has a source to it. It's linked to something that's both nearby and yet so far away—meaning, I believe it's the same type of energy as zol.

I feel eyes on me, and then, from what I understand of the zol users I've met so far, I conclude that he can more than likely see everything I do.

And what was that about being a "subject?" Does he think he'll make me a torture victim? Even in starvation, I'm not going to let some creep try to get a win on me. I've two options...

If I can hold out, resist long enough, then there's a chance that Maxwell might come looking for me. Depending on how long the Eye was operational, he'll have a better idea than most of my location. The only other person to see me last was Lance, but that probably doesn't count when considering his condition at that time. I can choose this route, and help might make its way to me—but then, although I'm exhausted, I have what I think might be the better idea after all:

This lonely room reminds me a lot of one of Ikihigo's mind prisons, especially back when I was his student. I've got to consider that maybe it's made up—at least in parts, I hope—of zol.

I stride briskly toward the metallic, handle-less panel exit and stop before it, wasting no time in thinking any longer.

Zen State.

It's entered upon in less than a second—and I'm way atop the highest mountain, above masses of thick, white clouds and below the diamond sky.

I focus on the door. The way out.

I visualize the panel in my mind, but nothing appears in this world that I've built for myself. It's my own private fortress in spite of there being no fortifications other than stubborn pride. I realize that my thoughts have become too focused, that this world feels emptier without Fatima.

I'm on my own now, but the loss of her has distracted me so much that I've unconsciously disallowed myself to grow the way I should be.

I bring my mind to that one focal point: a passage out—an exit from the prison. I'm determined to bring it forth, and, when that fails...

—IMAGO: CONTACT—

With the same persistence I've developed throughout my training, I try to use Imago on the room itself, to see if the enemy's imbued it with zol. Though it's the same technique used to enter someone's thoughts, I start to understand what my captor means when he uses the word "reflection." I'm to view the true reality behind the illusion, and, in place of where the door panel should be:

Threads of mangled flesh extend out from a short brush that's tipped with a red the color of blood. The brush itself pulsates like a heart.

From the heart, roots grow to wrap around a structure encompassing the room. I think I understand.

I grab the wooden handle of the brush.

Nothing happens, but it's strapped in tight. I grip it with both hands and pull with everything I've got, using aggression as fuel to tear away at bleeding skin. I grunt and yank one last time, ripping the painter's tool free in order to wield it myself.

The rest of the room steadily fades to grey, then it disperses into small bits and particles that flow up and out of existence.

Voices penetrate my thoughts. I can hear the same voice of the one who's trapped me, but, this time, he seems to be speaking to himself. He says so much that his sentences overlap, but it all sounds like insanity. The madman complains about blood on his hands, his hatred of people I'm not familiar with, and his blatant obsession with murder is punctuated with random cursing and sobbing.

There's something locked away within this thing, although I'm sure it's not meant for me to use. Because it resembles a brush, maybe he conducts Maia through it to make objects come to life.

But it doesn't matter, because it's already clear what I need to do next:

*Crack*

I snap the paintbrush in two; I don't know how to use Maia.

Soon after that, I bring my mind out of Zen State, and I'm greeted by—

The same thing's happening here, too!

The walls around me in the real world have begun to evaporate, and the exit from before is gone, leaving behind only a tall, open window into the downward slope of a grassy, red hill.

I'm going through, through to the real world—or, really, the image of one. What I felt before, that special aspect of zol that's in its own class... it's all around me now.

The path ahead is lined with ruby cryptomeria trees, each arranged with such a delicate attention to detail, but any sense of this world being anything close to beautiful is marred when I realize why the horizon's burning with anger.

"Okay... All right, ahem!" his voice is in my head, demonstrating a certain mastery of Imago.

If he yaps long enough, I'll trace it to where it's coming from.

"Not quite sure how you just did that—but that... Aaliyah, that was very disrespectful.

"I've always had a carefully-crafted vision of the things which should come to pass. You've pissed on a piece of this vision."

The cryptomerias which aren't burning have been trimmed and cut into pikes on ahead, and every pike runs through a different charred corpse. Each side comes alight with flames intense enough to cause me to sweat as I pass through.

Bits of metal and debris line the area. It only gets worse the farther I go in, bad enough that all I can see is ongoing pikes, corpses that continue past heaps of discarded human bodies—and all this comes right before a gigantic mesh of steel and metal alloys collapsed into a structure that's enough to take up most of the surrounding territory as a country of its own.

The Citadel's burning.

My country has plunged into the World Below, and all the city's Zones, Quadrants, and Sectors have collided, merged into a heap of fiery, broken homes and hyper rails that intersect and break off in various spots. Power stations have tumbled, aside jet-propelled manors, and most likely exploded with enough force to exterminate anyone who might've survived. The closer I get to the heart of the mess, the more I take notice of millions of cruisers that have imploded on contact with the surface.

To the west, a bloody Sun descends below the horizon, bringing to life a shining path that winds past a smaller hyper rail and leads through an alley replete with apartments that couldn't belong to the Citadel. The painter's placed them here for a reason; something about the glaring light that pours through their recesses echoes a challenge.

"I take it that you must have a demon who's empowered you? If that's the case, perhaps you should consider becoming another of my many allies."

At the far end—and directly at the turn of a corner—

Something moves...

I hesitate before proceeding once again, and then I hear the sound of a woman shrieking from the next alley coming up on my right.

My first instinct is to flee, but that's no longer an option. I've chosen to act solely on impulse.

I turn...

"Aaliyah, why do you keep ignoring me! AALIYAH."

—An amorphous and putrid glob of filth is escaping from a narrow crack in a glass window. It's pushing itself through despite slicing the skin around it open just so it can grab hold of its prey.

A portion of the monster's body wraps around a woman; long and thin-looking fangs appear from what could be its head. I'm too shook to try to help.

I run.

I run because I'm afraid I can't do it without Fatima. Without Oya or Tavon, without zol. She shrieks one more time, and then there's no other sounds that follow.

"Take another look," the painter says, and, without pausing, I force myself to look back:

She's still alive.

Alive. Frozen. Both her and that thing have been suspended in time, but I don't understand how. What stands out the most is the way she appears in her last moments: mouth agape, eyes fixed on jaws that were fast closing around her. She's gone completely pale, and the madman behind it all says, "In putting together this particular piece, I realized that I'd managed to forget exactly ONE vital element—ahem, are you paying attention, or are you going to continue staring at it like a moron?

"Are you ready to understand? Good—that's very good, because this is how my art functions. Preservation of the human spirit is key, but it's not just any emotion I'm looking for—heh, no. No.

"I want to see people live out the greatest expressions of grief. Real terror can inspire real terror, right? They deserve this—oh, and it does suit the true vision of the Citadel, doesn't it? This is what inner sacrifice looks like—don't you get how much time something like this takes? Huh?"

I'm ignoring him because there's still a head peeking out at me from the end of the alley. Close to where this creep's spyin', I see that some of the apartment homes are sprayed with a thick coat of red, and there seems to be a loose collection of bones along the road the nearer I get to the end. The stranger retracts their head just as quick as I see them, and then I've got to stop. Change things up.

It's too simple, like it's been prepared. It doesn't matter that I escaped, that mothafucka had other plans for me—but that doesn't mean I have to follow through with them his way.

On my right, the hyper rail rises pretty steeply, though it's not so much that I can't hike it. The way up's bordered by tall, white guard rails and is therefore more helpful in terms of cover. If I keep on my current path, I'll be met with open and unfamiliar space while going right where he wants me. The hyper rail at least curves up and should put more distance between me and this creep, so I turn, making a clean run back to where I started. It'll signal to my creeper that I'm already onto them, thus I'm expecting that they'll give up the act and commence a full pursuit.

I can't let myself look back because I know I'll slow down; it's dead sprint!

"Wait—j-just where the fuck do you think you're going? You're not going back to the room, are you? You think THIS is the time to do drugs?"

While I'm making my way to the beginning of the hyper rail, there's one more thing I need to focus on if I'm going to make a difference in this fight.

I promise myself to be stronger than I was when fighting Noboros. If I can overcome this, then I'll be ready to take on Inen without any issues.

"You're... using the highway? But why?"

I'm breathing hard by the time I pivot and rush to jump onto steel debris that presses into a cliff. I push through my next wall by combining sheer adrenaline and rage with the use of Zen State.

I clear my mind, confident that I can outrun any pursuer now that I'm on my way up and toward a broad pillar that's pierced the ground and juts out at an angle; it's positioned right before the setting Sun.

With no distractions in place—not to mention the calm, constant breeze that brushes past me as I keep forcing myself to run—I sense the flow of more than one source of energy, but two, for certain, reach out to me like foul, hungry worms of tau. Were I not in Zen State, I wouldn't have noticed what resembles grotesque, spiked sea urchins that vomit tendrils which only grow faster when I approach. On passing by, each one screeches as if they've just missed out on a free meal. I speed in the direction of the biggest source of zol here.

While each piece of this world comes with its own Presence, there is one, in particular, that's haunting me. I felt something sinister clawing out from the alley, but there's zol far beyond that, and I can feel a sick hatred flooding through my body. This one Presence nearly takes me off guard once I reach a ledge that leads into the center of a grimy tower, where part of the wall's been ripped away to showcase two others frozen in time.

A young man holds an older guy in his arms. Tears perpetually rain down his cheeks while he watches this stranger bleed out in front of him. One of them is forever dying, and the other's paralyzed by grief.

"I never expected that you'd take this path—why, you seem like such a straightforward girl—oh my, did I say 'girl?'

"Ha. You're much less to me than that. I'd thought that a Bureau cunt would have the sense of mind and BASIC POLITENESS to respond to me. Don't you have any appreciation, or are you just a cold bitch?"

This maniac's voice is driving me nuts; however... yeah, that's it. It's his Presence that I can sense; his Imago's receding toward the sunset, and I'm about to charge—

"STOP!"

My stalker's catching up with me.

Damn! I took too long sight-seeing. Even now, when I glance back to make sure I'm not outflanked, the whole of a flaming civilization is spread out before me.

The rail that spans so much destruction sways, and a dark shape comes running my way. Above a man in a suit, with short, brown hair and something clutched in one of his hands...

Dark mass gathers in the skies. It trails behind him. It's something so terrible that I can't bear to look—and still, I have to.

It's the image of Death itself: black and brown shifting pyramids of a dreadful light.

It's...

It's hideous.

\-------

Janelle

\-------

I lended a mortal human my Imago. I allowed Tallah to see through the eyes of many, to watch events unfold while she stayed within the safety of her hospital room.

On the night that Aaliyah was imprisoned by Amour, Tallah watched her sister struggle until she could no longer handle the stress on her own. Tallah cried out for me, a Solace, and one who's forbidden from helping her as much as I did.

She called my name, and, when I appeared before her, Tallah begged for me to intervene:

"Janelle," she said to me, "it doesn't matter if you have to put me in her place! Please, help her."

Tallah was sobbing. She brought her knees close to her chest while interlocking her arms to console herself. She was so small. Tallah appeared helpless, reluctant to live her second life in this world without her sister. Her tiny body heaved under gentle weeping, something that felt too familiar and near to what was left of what I used to be.

I was moved.

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

A black insect's hovering amidst the heavens. Eyes covered with thick, red veins bulge out from the whole of it—each eye focused on me. It's a demon that covers the whole of the sky, blocking the Sun; a faint hum echoes down and across a world made totally defenseless in its presence.

There's so much sweat. Zen State's all gone—replaced by the image of a devil's eye that won't leave my mind. It takes up my imagination, blots out any thoughts, and the fear itself compels my body to convulse. I can barely keep standing—ju-just the effort of it makes me feel so damn weary.

I keep shaking and sweating, with my arms hanging at my sides, and the fucking headache—

Damn. It aches so bad...

"ALL RIGHT, BITCH." it's a man voice.

In all that bleakness, the sound of a human momentarily brings me to my senses.

At least, long enough to see that he's not so far away. A middle-aged man, someone who'd be well-dressed if not for the blood stains on his blazer, confronts me and looks as nervous as I feel. He's all pale; his eyelids are lined with a thick, inky black, and he looks as though he hasn't eaten for some time. He sways from side to side, again and again, speaking in slurs like a shy, sick-minded drunk:

"Y-y-you made... aw, jeez! GODDAMMIT. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD—GET OUT, FUCKER!"

His right hand quivers around a long knife, which he brings up to his forehead while continuing to scream:

"I'LL FUCKING KILL MYSELF HERE—I'M DOING WHAT YOU WANT, AREN'T? AREN'T I?"

He breathes faster as he lowers his voice, "If I k-kill myself... heh. You'll have no one to take over, won't you—you'll-you'll have to go away! HA!"

His eyelids peel themselves all the way back, displaying shaking orbs with bloody, segmented worms crawling within them. The freak grins until he can't contain himself and breaks into a wild, high-pitched laugh; at the same time, he keeps his eyes fixed on the horrible creature above us.

"DO YOU HEAR THAT, YOU STUPID INSECT! I'LL MAKE IT SO Y-YOU'VE NOWHERE TO RUN!"

Tznlulh.

His features become ghost-like; the man's skin goes white. One pupil changes to a dark red while the other disappears altogether. Trails of smoldering energy leak from his body, and the image of the demonic eye digs into my mind for a second assault. I try to respond with Zen State, but—

Fuck.

After everything, how I could I...

It's taken over my mind, paralyzed me before I can have another thought on my own. My stalker's glaring at me again, and he stops trembling just as his hand tightens on the knife's handle.

"I-I've..."

His body shudders, then he's calm. He smiles.

I'm not sure, but I suspect that this demon's taken him over for good. What I sensed before is no longer there, as if his life was extinguished right in front of me.

"Tznlulh'ace muzx."

The Eye is about to burn its image into my mind permanently while a possessed killer makes his move:

He charges at me, like I predicted he would; somehow, knowing this from the start causes everything to slow down—if it's only for a brief spark.

I see the ghost of a bloodied man headed my way and preparing to sink that knife of his into me, probably again and again and with hatred I don't understand.

I don't understand it, and, by virtue of only that, it curdles an anger in me that outweighs any grudge he could possibly have.

I'm so tired of the kind of despicable people I've met on my journey through Zone H, the type of evil that lingers on everywhere in a country that's supposed to serve the people. My training wasn't for nothing. I won't let myself fail and become a victim! I can't fail because that means I'd be failing everyone I set out to protect. My purpose can't be to die.

Here comes the knife.

I've got to break whatever limits are left—

Here comes the knife.

I have to find strength where there is none—

Here comes the knife, and so, too, all of my fury.

\-------

Janelle

\-------

I meant to interrupt the attempt on Aaliyah's life.

I went to that realm, through the painting, and traveled to her side. I was violating the laws that had been issued to me by a higher power.

But the First Musician arrived before me, and, on sensing that He had come on His own...

I fled in fear.

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

I'm in my own paradise—atop the pillar, like I always am when completely entering Zen State, yet something about this world feels more real than usual. For once, what I've imagined has transformed into a reality that I can believe—maybe that's the key to understanding how to use Imago for myself!

A storm takes shape, and that goes on to produce a flurry of dark clouds that break off into strangely-formed branches. Each branch flares bright, every one becoming embers of lightning that break open the atmosphere above. The arm of something great and terrible descends from the center of the sky; following it, I notice streams of blood flowing down from around it, and a small circle floats beneath the flattened palm.

The face of an old man flashes through my mind, in the same way that demon's Eye did previously, then—

He's some feet in the distance.

I see a weeping old man dressed in tattered, brown robes and with a long, white beard tied into a ponytail. His scowl contorts, shakes, before forming a wicked grin. His tears turn to blood, and the elder stifles a laugh that shakes his sides.

All the while, his eyes never break contact with mine. I've seen him somewhere—I know it. This man is the sole reason for every nightmare I've had since meeting Tavon.

Is he going to kill me?

"It's all fine now." his mouth doesn't move, but I can hear him as if he were speaking clearly to me.

Something about this makes him more unsettling, especially since he won't stop smiling the way he does.

"I said to you that you would claim the title of the First Sinner, and now I'm afraid we have come full circle, as all things do when intertwined with cosmic entropy."

W-what? I'm trying to speak, but his very existence has rendered me powerless. He's taken full control of my paradise in order to use it for himself, and, yet again, I'm fucking useless against the abilities of a monster like this!

"Your actions have unfortunately provoked the wrong kind of attention, my child. Interactions between the Solace and humans were designed to be limited; however, the one you know as your sister, Tallah, has prompted an ethereal being into breaking its natural duties.

"This, my dear girl, is a Sin, and I fear that there is no one left to carry it but you. Tallah has taken in abilities for which she was not purposed, and so, I, as the First Musician, have designated you to take the mantle of the First Sinner. Furthermore, your position on the Spectrum of Zol mandates that such a position would be naturally befitting."

"W-wh..." I croak out, still in defiance against whatever hold he has on me.

"My, my..." the old man strokes his beard. "The fact that you can even make a sound is sure proof of your talent! Had I chosen Tallah, I believe that she wouldn't be nearly as composed and thus is not suitable for the Gift I wish to give.

"Rather than penalize you, a blood relative, for Tallah's interference in matters beyond herself, I've decided the Gift is punishment enough. Now—"

The First Musician extends one of his bony hands out toward me, and I witness small, blue flecks whirl around him. His eyes glow with a peculiar light, one not meant to be viewed, also one that causes my heart rate to double. I feel an underlying current of adrenaline, much more than my body can handle, and it's making me shake. I'm too nervous to speak, though, in experiencing this sensation, my control's partially returned.

"The First Sinner is a representative of me, the First Musician, who forsook the will of a mighty Ahuran in order to serve a different cause.

"Whereas I've been cursed with immortality while caged in a deceased body, the First Sinner is the Instrument of my ire, my last revenge effort against Apothé, the Queen of Angels.

"Though granting this to you requires acceptance, I've no doubt that you'll claim this punishment rather than allow Tallah, who has no choice, to be cursed. I know that you will agree, and so there is no need to obtain further confirmation."

I-I can't tell what's building inside me right now, but...

It's almost too much. Avva, the way it feels—as if every muscle's locked in position, ready to spring in sync when I've decided to make my move. The image of the mad elder flickers and distorts to show my stalker for a moment before changing back to the First Musician, and he laughs.

"Time was taken away from me; as a result of this cruelty, I offer you full authority over your Time, Aaliyah. If you reach out for It, you'll also reach for your destiny as the First Sinner, and you may move all the Time left to you as you see fit.

"Come, my child," the First Musician whispers.

Gentle waves that I can only see in Zen State rush out at me so quickly that I realize that not even I have made the choice to accept.

No. His grin gets bigger as the power offered flows into me—b-but no! I didn't get a chance!

"That's right, my dear. You may thank both your own better instincts along with the strength being lended to you by your Hibernating kamuy. Until you've utilized the full extent of your personal prowess, you'll wield God's Arrow."

What is he saying? God's Arrow?

My own mind—no, my own subconscious betrayed me. The desperation I've tried to bury made its way to the surface of my thoughts, and so:

I'm the First Sinner.

\-------

I'm warmed by an unseen fire, then I recognize the source of it.

Oya's by my side, even after being destroyed. We're walking together, as one, through harsh winds that blast at the emptiness ahead—emptiness that continues and continues, on and on into nothing. My mind starts to comprehend the sudden change of scenery, and then things shift back to me on the hyper rail, waiting to be impaled by a goddamned maniac in a horrific dreamland.

Grey tau gathers in front of me and simultaneously takes on a bright blue shade while condensing into a smaller shape. The smaller it shrinks, the more compressed the energy inside, and that energy's being fed by...

Me.

I'm holding my palms out at the waist. When I look at either of them, reality starts to break away. I feel a vague rage that grows hotter the more I focus on it, and it's because this anger's justified. Yes! This kind of hatred makes me want to go after every freak that's caused this city misery, made lives for regular people totally unlivable.

I'm done with being played with as the people around me suffer. I did this all because I despise real evil.

And I'll stop it.

The rest of my life unfolds into sapphire stems that branch off into thousands of smaller arterioles. They reveal paths, how everything could've gone for me. I see images of some people I recognize and some I don't; I see future memories with Tavon, with Kaust—some are with Maxwell, but nothing, so far, shows my death.

Every single trail comes together at the end, and the end? It's a gun built from rivuleting currents of blue tau—a pistol, like the one I used to kill Erig.

Every path terminates in a past choice that will never leave me, and the rage I felt then, in that moment when I blew his brains out, it's the same I feel now—Now, as I'm aiming the smoking gun at the evil bastard coming at me, and the end of every branch begins to burn with an azure light. Flames erupt, and I think I truly understand:

Those ends get cut shorter, every action filtered down and combined into one choice.

His face hovers right before the barrel.

I clench my fist, then I pull the trigger:

Everything those futures carry for me comes together in a radiant ball of energy, and I see it for just a brief second, maybe half that, to be honest, and something about it's beautiful. Magnificent potential. In every future I see, I live to an old age.

Azure spheres collect around a pure, central ball that's too radiant to look into directly. It rockets forward, blasting through the right side of the maniac's head!

"Petrus!"
18

Confrontation

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

BLOOD SPURTS FROM WHAT'S LEFT OF PETRUS' FACE. His body plummets, and the whole of him is soon surrounded in a red puddle that spreads to pour out from narrow slits at the bottoms of both sides of the rail.

"YOU DIMWITTED WHORE! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET A GUN? Wait," the voice of the one orchestrating this shit drops a decimal, "Are you really that good at using zol? You, a common lap dog?"

"That's enough talk. Where are you hiding?"

I'm not wasting any more time. I begin the long walk across the hyper rail, which curves downward before connecting with another, steeper cliff that's right before grass loosely lining a long beach. The blood Sun is at its halfway point when I choose to confront my captor's Imago with my own.

Through Zen State, and while meditating on my personal pillar, I allow my mind to drift and hover nearer to the sound of his voice:

"My name is Amour, and you're fucking up my art. I don't like how this is going. I feel like you're keeping secrets from me, Aaliyah."

Amour.

Amour...

"Amour, have you ever thought that you might need help? That this..."

Damn, my body's tired. I slowly peer at my surroundings while averting my eyes from the sunset.

"This is a horrible thing to do to people."

"Did you not just kill Petrus? I needed him, dickhead; what makes you think you can just go around sabotaging another person's work, huh?"

"Ugh. Nevermind."

He's unbelievably insane. The more I try to move closer to his mind, the more I sense him back away. He's experienced with Imago as well, but he doesn't seem to know everything.

Amour's mind fades from me, but the location of his real presence stays the same.

He's there. On the beach.

\-------

There's a man who's been nailed to a tall, mildewed cross of wood that's green in the parts that aren't drenched in blood. His body's decayed and become almost blackened; sections of his torso have been pecked at, some of the skin torn away and burrowed into by white maggots.

A leather band that once held together what must have been a long, black ponytail is on the ground behind the cross, and the hair itself is strewn around its base. Though most of him's withered, he's familiar.

I recognize the body, but I'm not sure how. That face. I know I've seen it.

The rest of the beach is populated with copies upon copies of the same corpse hung on the same cross. This is what obsession looks like. My captor's taken the time to carefully get every single detail right about Him. Yes, Him. President Derek. But why?

The enemy has waded a short distance into the coming tide and with his back still turned to me. Behind him, I suppose a hundred crosses showcasing the one he hates must make him feel superior. His Imago must be powerful enough to imprison others—also, there's a creative quality to it that's insane because it shouldn't exist. I fear that I'm in the mind of a psychopath, and, before I can make any other presumptions, he approaches.

I see the orchestrator in full view:

He's dressed in a dark, chestnut dinner jacket, overlaying a white button-up undershirt, and rocking a brown leather belt wrapped 'round brown khaki shorts which look out of place.

He removes the jacket and rolls up his sleeves while evoking his Presence—moving zol and molding it so that trails of black tau expand to float above both of his hands.

Amour's eyes have fixed on me. I sense that he carries nothing but true bloodlust.

His intentions reach me through his Imago—he's trying to use it to intimidate me. Sudden pressure hits my body; the overall totality of his disgust manifests as a dagger sharp enough to send pain through my head—yet, I force my way through the bullshit. I counter with the collected, rational world I've built within my own Imago.

At the same moment, the black energy he's concentrated into his fingertips expands and lengthens before becoming completely solid, changing into thin, flowing brushes which shimmer with death encircling each individual tip.

Amour gasps and takes a step back.

"Can you see them?" he exclaims and looks down at his hands before returning his puzzled gaze to me.

"You killed Zlnuratoi, a demon that was so strong It didn't bother speaking human languages, but how? There must be another demon helping you then, although I can't see how it might've assisted you in eliminating mine.

"Now, the book is useless."

He flexes one of his claws and then forces jets of steam out of each brush while fixing his eyes on me. His face pisses me off, and my anger manages to match his.

"You're a psychopath."

I'm prepared to fight him, even if I can only use my fists. I don't think I'll get a second shot with that power without the First Musician's help or until I fully understand how to use it.

"That's not very nice!" he snarls. "You've been a shitty guest, Aaliyah.

"You're the reason I'm missing The Mannie-Botho Show—and they never show reruns of the same episode!"

Amour points the tip of one claw at me in accusation:

"The Mannie-Botho Show represents QUALITY television, you ignorant peasant!

"Why are you keeping secrets from me, Aaliyah?"

He's walking my way. The nature of his zol's changed; Amour's about to let himself go—I can feel it.

"You know so much now—far more than anyone else before you! You've seen the pinnacle of real art, the real FACE of suffering...

"...of pain."

Amour stops, and we're directly facing each other.

Time's up. This is the last battle.

He says his final words to me while breaking eye contact:

"Even now, surrounded in all that mystery... you can't say anything?"

I refuse to. I'm making the game my own, and so I stare at him—I stare until his eyes move to meet mine as the light from them dims.

"I've always hated the obstinate," he says, "and I've vowed to snuff out Derek's idiots wherever I find them."

His zol rakes my heart with a frigid, harsh gust of wind:

"..."

Amour zooms toward me, drawing behind him one claw he means to swipe at my head, but his voice doesn't break:

"I see now. You're the government's personal cunt!"

*SLASH*

Without thinking about it—

Without truly knowing—

I duck under black claws that literally delete the very air they happen to touch, distorting small fragments of reality and threatening to erase me in one swoop—I duck under the first blow that could've meant my death and plunge forward in order not to trip.

I lunge into deep sand, nearly losing my balance in its thick hold, and then I jump to spring another step forward and rotate right to swing an uppercut toward Amour's stomach. He clumsily shifts both feet to step back in time, and then I start to fall forward with my fist still all balled-up and close to his face—

If I just...!

Amour swings his other claw toward my chest, directing it to impale me straight through!

So that I stand a chance at evading death a second time, I swing right and let myself fall into Amour, who responds all but expertly by jumping back and sending up two small tunnels of sand as he avoids me completely. I stop myself from collapsing by punching the surface—but Amour's closing in. He slashes upward to meet my lower jaw.

I shift to the side and feel the space beside me become rent with a rapid hum—black daggers flash before my eyes, then I bound at Amour once again.

Once more, I throw a hook, and, just barely, he spins his body away from the attack! He follows with a horizontal swipe at the level of my throat, which I manage to duck under, and then he thrusts his second hand forward!

I grab the outside of his arm, bring him toward me for leverage, he pivots, slashes at my head; I move under his arm, square up my stance, and then I strike him in the sternum!

Amour coughs as he steps back, hesitating for a moment while gritting his teeth.

His claws flash briefly. He growls, "You simple BITCH! STAY STILL."

He shudders for half a second—

Amour rushes at me and slashes the air with true abandon! His attacks become so random that I can't come up with a strategy quick enough, and—

I back away from four claws that cut through this dimension. Another swipe directs itself at my stomach, and so I jump to the side. Another follows, then another! Amour moves so fast—dammit!

He plunges four black knives into my side. I almost touch those damn claws but realize that they'll vaporize my hands, so I quickly compensate by grabbing onto his arm. Amour tries to drive them in deeper, thinking I'll be too distracted to react to any of his other moves, then he strikes with his other claw.

I catch his second arm in place. For a moment, I'm able to hold him there as blood leaks from the entry wounds he's given me. I use my knee to force his claws out from me, step, and then I hurl an overhead fist that smashes Amour's nose.

Two strategies come to my mind at once. Time slows, Zen State takes over—do I go in for a close submission or...

I step back, staggering away just as he flies into a mad rage, slashing the air while blood stays running down my lower body, but I've planned for this outcome.

Remaining too close is asking to get diced, so I follow through after Amour's third swing; I lunge in, prepped to strike with a second punch!

Amour thrusts, dead center, at my chest—exactly how I need him to.

I crouch low enough to evade his claws and then launch to the side, passing by him. I kick Amour in the stomach with all the raw power I've got!

He grunts and falls on his back. The blow's solid enough to produce a decent recoil so that I can maintain my distance. I move to sta—

Sh-shit... it hurts.

I'm bleeding heavy. His zol could eat my organs from mere contact, but there's no way to tell of the damage he's already done. For me to keep going, I've gotta tap into the anger I've saved while staying in control of my Imago. I'll repurpose anger into action:

Amour rushes at me again.

His red eyes are set afire when he screeches, "Filthy, revolting peasant!"

If any part of him was messing around before, it's gone. Once time grinds into a slower gear, his determination to win distracts me from planning out any future moves—I'll have to dodge on instinct.

There's no time left to think. Amour stabs at my head with one straightened claw. I move down, sure I've evaded him, and yet...

His eyes track me this time.

Each black pillar gets longer and slants toward me—Amour cuts my forehead in three places before I can get away, and then he starts his assault in full.

He strikes at me with better accuracy than he had previously, with anger that cools and becomes more refined with each attack. I increase my distance, but—!

I-I can't fight him like this.

"That's right—run! Run!" he yells.

He chants, "run," as he slashes at me from any opening he sees while I try to avoid him. I turn my back on Amour; an intense heat burns where I've been stabbed. I-I feel lightheaded, and he's building up enough speed to overtake me.

I know he'll go for a straightforward grab. He'll get at my exposed neck and try to finish this so that he doesn't lose himself to blind fury. I recall the lessons of Rashumi and float through Zen State, sensing the presence of five dark claws raking toward me.

I lean forward.

I tilt everything down then under, and the end of each black dagger dips over me just as I slow my pace, attempting to avoid being shanked through while I rush to grab onto his other arm and use it as a shield—

Five holes bore through his right bicep, with dark streams trailing out of them. I barely glance at the pain and shock on Amour's face, then my own determination surpasses his.

I hit Amour in the jaw with a haymaker that staggers him back a few feet—I-I feel...

Zol.

It's not an emotion. It's not even a concept that can be described in basic terms; it's higher than that.

The zol that moves through my body is like a river that floods without concern. Its current is unstoppable, forever. Zol is a river of music. It's a burst of unbelievable courage.

I have to win this.

—SHINTE—

I Awaken!

Far from Earth, far from this place as well, the kind of power I tap into changes the air around both me and the one I hate.

Everything appears in a slightly bluer shade; I fly toward Amour at an imperceptible speed, and...

Shit. I let go.

—SHINTE—

Rather than channel electric speed into a regular sprint, I use Zen State to refocus the energy, elongate my arm muscles, and home in on him:

There's no more thinking that goes on once I start a barrage of punches that Amour can't possibly defend against. I'm not sure how many times I hit him—I lose count after teeth and blood fly into one of my eyes, then I get angrier. I growl like a fucking animal, and I strike harder.

Seeing that he's still trying to stay on his feet, I grab Amour and knee him in the stomach, and—!

Ugh!

He's ran one of his goddamned claws right through my thigh—o-oh my God, it hurts.

—SHINTE—

Pain's all gone. It's been consumed like the fuel for another round, and I'm back on the offensive—even if I have to limp forward. I clench both fists and swing with less speed than what I possessed the first time. I'm tense at the thought of him withstanding everything I've got left, then...

Amour falls to the ground, much more clumsily. His guard's been broken, and his claws quickly evaporate as he scampers away with one hand and clutches his bleeding face with the other.

I could finish him off right here.

I could really put an end to this and find my own way out...

Amour comes to his feet and barks, "THAT'S IT. I'M DONE."

Done?

Amour holds out one hand to reach for light that collects at his side. Both eyes have gone entirely red, dissolving their respective irises as well as both pupils. He summons a brush that attracts light from the Sun itself, which is fast leaving us behind. In its wake, it produces magnetic bolts of lightning which attach to the brush.

"This game isn't fun anymore." he says.

Amour snaps the brush.

The skies above rain down in ash. Behind the maniac, the horizon and ocean merge into a waved kind of distortion; the rest of this world follows.

One piece ended up imperfect. Because of that one piece, because of me, Amour destroyed his grand vision.
19

Disgust

\-------

Aaliyah

\-------

I'M IN THE UPPER-CITY.

I made a trip to the bottom of Zone H, and now...

I-I'm back to where it's safe, where I thought it was safe. I can see the Way to the Council from a loft that overlooks a fairly generous section of the Citadel.

And, when I look around—

Amour.

We're both in front of a byobu, a folded screen three times my size that displays nothing but an empty canvas. Amour's staring at the ground, as if he's mad at it, too.

"You made me break my painting," he pouts and then says, "Mr. Thume! Let ME do it."

He's looking at someone who's been nothing but a blur until now. At first, all I could see was what looked like a thousand faces of despair, groaning cohesively while generating zol of their own.

When I see him clearly, for the second time, I note that Mr. Thume looks human, but he's being controlled by multiple spirits.

He doesn't utter any kind of response—I'm not even sure if he can talk. He hands Amour a shotgun.

Maybe I should've acted earlier.

Nah, maybe I can still act now. Zol's still pooling up in my body, and I feel more refreshed than ever. Just as my confidence returns, I recall the image of the First Musician.

It's not yet time. I need to know one more thing:

"Did you send an assassin to off me about a week ago?"

The Musician's face is now a permanent fixture in my sight. I can hear him speaking to me: You may move all the Time left to you as you see fit.

"No. I mean, perhaps," Amour sighs and contemplates his gun. "Yes, but it was for a good reason!" he jabs the barrel in my direction.

I've no time for his bullshit.

"What 'good' reason could you have for killing government agents?

"Fuck that—actually, sir, what gives you the right to try to kill innocent people with abilities they can't defend themselves against, huh? You don't think the least bit of all that's messed up?"

Amour chuckles. This mothafucka chuckles. Though sweat pours down from his head, which has fresh wounds all over it, he still manages to think that my struggle so far is a joke.

"You think I have any interest in a conversation with you?

"Listen to me, you trifling, impolite, bloated bitch: hosts do not have to explain themselves. I'm the most successful painter in ALL of the Citadel, and what I paint is more than simple art for art's sake."

Amour's breathing quickens; his expression gets serious.

"I harness the very depths of what humans presume to know as corruption, because I believe in it. The way things are now... they're deplorable. The 'Utopia' President Derek's built is a failure; he's trying to make you all forget about his real legacy—and-and I'm just trying to get you to see the Truth!

"But FUCK you, peasant!"

You may move all the Time left to you as you see fit.

He's getting unstable.

"You would've..."

I need to summon It, the gun that took out Petrus. In Zen State, I call for the presence of the First Musician. I try to gather my own energy, but I still don't totally understand how it works—how do I...?

"You would've made a great addition."

Amour smiles, and, instantly, I know that he's made up his mind.

I can't summon It!

I can't defend myself...

A wad of paper hits the back of Amour's head.

Another one zooms past him; it strikes my knee. I lose all control of my right leg, then I fall on my hands. While I struggle to get the feeling back in my leg, Amour's paralyzed in place and looks as confused as I feel.

Someone's stepping out from behind him.

She puts her hand on his shoulder and quickly gives him a once over.

"Amour! D-did you have a bad fall?"

Zola looks to me. Briefly, the two of us exchange what's been mutual hatred all along. I always knew I didn't like that bitch, but I could never figure out why.

Her attention returns to the psychopath she calls her husband, and she forgets about me entirely, like I'm an annoying pest.

"You forgot what I told you again, didn't you? Jeez..." she sighs, "Higher-ranking government officials are off-limits because you don't know whose interest you might end up provoking.

"Babe, this is the interim Commander of the Dawn Bureau."

"'Interim?'"

I'm still trying to stand, and, while I'm at it, I might just take Zola out with him.

One last time. Zen State, if only to grant me the strength to get out of here on my own, to get home.

"That..." Amour stares at me, genuinely astonished. "That can't be. Spilsbury found her in Zone H—what would the Commander of the Bureau be doing in a place like that?"

"She's the interim Commander, honey—"

"I-I'm not the fucking interim Commander!"

They both glance over, gasping at once when seeing that I'm on my feet. Though I'm beat to exhaustion, I'm simply proud that I can stay conscious with the injuries I've received.

With my pride in full effect, I tell them: "I am the official Commander of the Dawn Bureau, from now until I resign from that position, and it is within my rights—not only as the Commander, but as a victim!—to have the two of you detained."

Amour tries to strut toward me, "Excuse m—!"

Zola stops him in place by standing in front of him.

"Don't let her get to you, dear."

"I'm... I'm not!" he grumbles, frowning hard as she rests her arms around his neck. "She's a stupid peasant."

Amour points at me in accusation, "Just a peasant!" he says again, and Zola forces him back while keeping his gun pointed down.

"Amour—hey, big red eyes, I want you to do me a favor, okay?"

"Ugh." Amour sneers, backing away from her to cross his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

"I know she ruined your project, but that's really good news!"

"How could that be good, Zola?"

She smiles at him, then she puts her hand over his heart.

"Amour," she says in a quiet tone, "I want you to paint a home. Paint a paradise, the kind of paradise that people in the Upper-City dream about.

"I think it would be so pretty, don't you, if you could build a world without woe."

"I've... but I've never worked on that type of piece before."

She doesn't break eye contact. "Please. Do it, and make sure you think of me."

Zola winks as she flusters Amour and compels him to leave.

Once she chooses to acknowledge me, I come face to face with my worst enemy.

\-------

"I can pay for a cruiser if you like."

Zola's escorting me out of the home she shares with a monster. Her attitude frustrates me. I haven't been able to look at Zola directly since she led me to the private landing platform outside of the Bali Estate.

"I've got it covered."

I don't. Not really. I'd rather jump than rely on help from someone like her.

"Don't be silly!" she says, and then...

She smiles. After what I've witnessed, she's got the nerve to smile.

"The best taxi service in the Citadel is only a few miles from the Estate! The least I can do is compensate you for coming all this way—here, I'll call them now."

Without waiting for a response from me, she accesses her Kom Cell, ignoring the glare I fire at her. There's so much I want to say, so many insults that come to mind.

Zola finishes the call, and I stride up to her right after. Her eyes are still focused on the device, but I know she's doing this on purpose. She can't even bother to look at me, although she was supposed to be my friend.

I reach out:

I slap Zola. I slap her as hard as I can bring myself to. And still...

She won't acknowledge me. Instead, Zola looks down and smirks.

"Don't act like you can judge him."

A line of blood runs down her chin.

"You've always been an ignorant prep girl, you know that?"

Zola speaks to me directly, but now her eyes have changed. Now, they're filled with energy I can't see though I can feel it coming from them. Her smile's gotten bigger.

She's just as crazy as her husband.

"Consider this the last day you spend as a civilian, Zola. When I come back here, with full authority from the Federation, I'll bring you to justice."

I can't control my anger anymore—

I slap her again, but, this time, she steps back to toss another wad of paper at me!

I don't truly consider my next move, and I reflexively swat it, which prompts her to give off an even more smug expression.

"Go ahead," she says.

"Just remember, if you do choose to speak any further on the privates lives of me or Amour...

"Well, I'm afraid that your heart might explode."

"What?" I close in, ready to do more damage if I have to, but she holds her hand and shouts: "QUIT!"

"Quit this!" Zola scowls. "If you touch me, which constitutes a harmful act, I promise that your heart will explode."

"What? Are you ki—"

"I want you to walk away from the Bali Estate and forget everything you've seen. Aaliyah, girl, if you so much as put any effort into hurting us again, there's a good chance that your life will be cut short unexpectedly."

"You can use zol, huh?"

She nods. I hear the taxi cruiser arriving behind me.

"Heh. You two really deserve each other."

"Aaliyah," she ignores my comment, "none of this should concern you, girl.

"Count your blessings. You made it out of a bad spot—you survived an assassination, and look what it got you! You're the Commander! Somehow, a basic agent, like me, was made the fucking Commander! Because this has happened, you've nothing to worry about."

"Seriously?" I clench my fists, halfway deciding to quit the taxi altogether and throw her from the platform.

Then I get just the inkling of a suspicion: "Why are you so confident that your plans no longer involve me?"

Zola smiles wickedly. She knows that she doesn't have to tell me anything, but, out of sympathy I don't expect, she speaks:

"You can try to stop us all you want, Aaliyah. In the end, the one who's going to make you miserable is your real master. Once the government identifies him as a real suspect... heh."

The look on her face is dark. It carries a venomous hatred which makes Amour's painting seem childish in comparison.

"Him?"

It doesn't take long to figure out—

"You mean Tavon. You want to mark him as the one responsible for the terrorist attacks, right?

"Zola, I don't understand how you could do this people."

For the last time, I try to appeal to whatever humanity I can find in my colleague, "You know that this is madness—that it can't go on!"

"Goodbye, Aaliyah."

"That's it?"

Zola stares through me.

"Fine."

I turn my back on her.

"Even if I can't speak on what you've done, I'm not giving up. If you refuse to help me, then that makes you as bad as him—that makes you a goddamn accomplice!"

I sigh, then I continue on to greet the driver.

"Where to?" asks a middle-aged man, his dark hair in a combover.

"Get me to Zone B, then I'll guide you from there."

He nods from the passenger seat and then looks ahead while waiting patiently as I take a minute to consider everything that she's said to me.

Eventually, I've got to let it go.

"Zola."

I glance back before leaving the Bali Estate.

She refuses to speak any further, yet her eyes readily meet mine to show that she's listening to whatever I have to say.

"Don't bother showing your face at the Bureau tomorrow. I'll be sure to send you your termination packet. After that...

"I'll begin the hunt."
\--------

PART EIGHT

Naomasa

\--------
1

The Prince

\--------

Naomasa

\--------

LEFT, THEN RIGHT.

Downward curve.

Feint.

Thrust.

Cut...

\--------

There are sixteen human civilizations left in the world. We've sixteen, when there was once thirty altogether.

There was a man who turned himself into a god. He was the Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi, who dreamt about a future sanctuary for humanity: the Citadel. Lord Isolakandi wanted humans to ascend, and this I firmly believe.

Out of sixteen, the Dawn Federation strives to be the crowning achievement of great humans—the most exceptional class of humans imaginable.

I am Naomasa.

—Left, then right—

I am the son of the Warlord Derek, the true ruler of the Dawn Federation, and I am the Prince. I am destined to succeed his position, to guide this country!

—Downward curve—

The Democratic Council wants to take away my father's authority; they wish to strip Derek of his legacy. It makes no sense because he is the only one left who understands the Sidogushan Verses as well as he does.

—Feint—

At heart, my father is a warrior. Above all other mercenaries, he had what it took to conquer a land of gold for himself—and so, I have followed in his footsteps.

—Thrust—

I've imitated my father's personal growth, mirrored his prowess with the sword, and studied any and all texts he'd left in his possession. I am destined to be the next King because I've become just as ruthless as he is. My father's a great man, with power I've only begun to comprehend, but the time's come for me to surpass him.

I've trained and honed my skill with a longsword since I was a boy, and, having been alive for seventeen years in his shadow, I feel more than ready to take him. Here, among the moth orchids that have multiplied since the first day we planted them together: the day he decided that we'd fight until I bested him.

I'm ready to win.

—Cut—

\--------

I'm facing my father while I keep both hands tight around the handle of the one weapon that's never failed me, my guiding light: a black longsword of moa that drips into sharp, rounded mounds along the body of the blade.

Left, then right.

He doesn't seem interested?

Downward curve.

But I'm stronger than before.

Feint.

I know he senses it!

Thrust.

My training ends today.

Cut.

That's it. No more doubt. The great Warlord Derek wants me to make the first move.

He's holding a short, simple blade that's made of steel—a weaker metal—so weak that I can probably shatter it upon contact. He's grown old; his body's been overstressed from the demands of this country, and that's why...

That's why I'll surpass him. This is MY destiny.

—I charge—

I loosen my grip a little, concentrating strength into my arms. I'll use my thighs for added leverage—a perfect stance in order to anchor my body.

Left, then right: I draw the full length of my sword, swing left, and ensure that the angle is flat to increase my speed. He expects that I'll use my full strength in this, and so—

My father steps back, holding his sword up while grabbing both ends of it to use it as an overhead shield—just like I thought. He's moved it too high, which exposes his midsection.

I slice a still, horizontal arc at his abdomen. Father's dressed in moa chainmail to cushion any blows, but all I want is one strike!

Father moves his sword down in time to block the tip of my blade. It turns out that he's put himself at the exact distance to reduce any impact my attack had, and our weapons lock.

Downward curve: I take advantage of the room he's given me to maneuver; I jump back—

With strength and speed granted to me by the gods themselves, I swing the blade around and up, over my opponent, then I slash down!

Feint: father defends almost expertly. He tries to get inside my guard while also moving his sword closer to the handle of my own to halve the power of my swing—power he's overestimated.

That's why he'll lose.

Thrust: I withdraw my blade, and, within the bounds of time itself, I look for the shock in his eyes as I edge closer—close enough for me to run him through while at a distance!

I reel back my blade, and—

He spins.

Father zooms and whirls his body to the side faster than I can see, but how?

His blade strikes the side of my head, slicing it open and provoking a deep fear inside of me. Now, for some odd reason, father's giving off a presence that seems vaguely familiar.

He aims the tip of his blade at me. For a short while, I believe that I can see a white light in his eyes.

My entire life, he's never shown me this kind of energy. It's fearsome. Tremendous power that could only come from a true King.

My father, the King, says to me: "Enough."

"Father, I've only just star—"

He sheathes his sword and confronts me directly before pointing at my own weapon.

"That'll be of no use to you if you do not truly begin to Ascend. You've been my pupil for years, but this doesn't mean that you've come to understand everything I've taught you.

"What frightens me most is that, after all this time under my tutelage..."

Father groans. He's... disappointed in me. Even though I've done everything he's said—followed the writings of the Sidogush and disciplined myself to be a real warrior—it's not enough. It's still not enough.

Father smiles, then he starts to laugh.

"Easy, boy. Don't take it to heart.

"In my time, boys became men at the age of six. After all, Naomasa, guns are much easier to use than swords and axes. You can be forgiven for not Awakening in the Utopia I fought to create. Cast sorrow from your heart," he says, "and take pride in the legacy that's been left to you. Naomasa..."

Father looks away.

"You've everything you need to discover your true ability, yet you continue to fall short of my expectations. Though, I suppose it is of little concern by now..."

Father turns to leave, but I refuse to accept what he's said to me. He can't just overlook what I've become; I'm his heir!

"Father! What do you mean?"

He continues, and, without acknowledging me at all, he says, "Naomasa, do not feign ignorance."

Someone else appears at the gated entrance to meet him.

I'd anticipated this fight for so long, and yet... dammit. And yet, father managed to best me in a matter of seconds! This is a disgrace! A total disgrace!

"Sire!"

A man standing at least seven feet tall and dressed in sleeveless, white, bullet-proof armor kneels before my father.

I recognize him:

A Death Officer 4, one of the strongest assassins of the Angelos Association. His name is Ivonne, and he's built better than either of us. Ivonne's long, golden-grey hair falls across an ivory longbow, but he doesn't carry any arrows on him.

"Officer Ivonne," Derek nods to address him, "please share what news you've brought me."

Ivonne obliges him:

"Ieaquim. Something's gone wrong within the Mid-City, my Lord. Reports indicate rampant destruction across more than one Zone.

"Grandmaster Kei's sent me to protect you. Sire, the Grandmaster wants, more than anything, for you to have an Association bodyguard by your side at all times."

"Does he think I'm weak?"

Father goes for his sword. I feel the same anger he does; how dare an unwashed stranger insult his ruler's power.

"No, Sire!" Ivonne kneels, and, upon seeing him pay his proper respects, my aggression fades.

At the same time, father also eases up and puts his hand on Ivonne's shoulder.

"Get up," he says.

"My Lord?"

For such a large fellow, Ivonne looks utterly confused, vulnerable. Perhaps he's more respect for my father than I.

"If Kei's sent you to me, then that can only mean he's concerned enough to ignore hurting my feelings." Father grins. "Thus, the message here is that I am weak."

"No, Sire! The Grandmaster doesn—"

"Come on." Father pats his shoulder and gestures Ivonne to follow him through the gate. "I'm not so ignorant that I couldn't feel such a sinister presence.

"A disgusted sensation rises up in my being, and all I can feel—all I may hear, smell, and breathe—is an entity's odd rampage, hatred which possesses one singular direction.

"Agony wishes to find me so that it may combust. Something terrible desires to consummate its bloodlust. Therefore, we must go to meet it."

Ivonne rushes to catch up with him, and I'm infuriated that I'm being ignored like I'm some fly.

"My Lord, please allow me to handle whatever threat you may encounter."

"Nonsense." Father brushes him off as he takes lead.

I find myself following while listening on:

"Kei doesn't normally miss out on a good fight. If he's done so this time, that means he doesn't think this is worth his time, and, therefore, it can't be much of a threat, can it?"

"But Sire!"

"Father!"

Father stops in his tracks.

He won't look back at me. Why won't he acknowledge me? Ivonne doesn't pay attention, either; does he think I'm beneath him, too? Foolish wretch! He has no understanding of what I'm capable of!

"Father," I yell even louder, "when will I assume command of the Federation throne? If there's nothing left for you to teach me, then why wait any longer?

"Father!"

Such disgrace.

"Am I not your successor?"

It fills my heart with anger.

"Those council idiots think removing your legacy's legitimacy will improve the Federation—but they're wrong, and you know it!

"You know that this Citadel deserves a talented successor. What say you, father? Am I not your heir—not the one destined to live up to everything you built?"

He's still silent, and it's making it worse. While he forces me wait for a response, I'm starting to tremble. I wonder if everything he ever told me was just a lie. Father said that he'd defy them, the Federation, in the end—in fact, he has the very authority to do so! I MUST be the next in line to rule—why won't he respond?

Father continues to make me wait; Ivonne glances over at him impatiently.

Then, when he's finished thinking over my words, he chooses to speak to me.

Cut: Father turns and smiles. "My son..." he says, "you've soared high.

"You've endured my training and soared to a level beyond your peers. I must admit that I'm impressed that you made it this far.

"Even so..."

Father breathes in before he strikes at my ambition:

"You're not enough for this world.

"Why, I'm afraid you'd be better off joining a monastery, removing yourself from the troubles of rulership. The title of heir was indeed meant for you. However, my son...

"Even through all that you've been taught, you've managed to fall short, and that is why my legacy has come to its end."
\---------

PART NINE

The Grandmaster

\---------
1

Last Words

\---------

Janelle

\---------

MY COMPASSION FOR TALLAH WAS OFTEN OVERWHELMING, but I had forsaken my duty for some time.

The Solace are ordered into the human realm for one singular purpose: to harvest.

I arrived as a harvester, intending to carry away the soul of Tallah. Despite my nature, I defied a higher ruling over my existence. I vowed to help Tallah and those connected to her in whatever way I could, and, in doing so, I also misused my Gift so that a mortal could view reality through the eyes of many.

My interventions have most likely not gone unnoticed, and such interventions are considered sins. Yes, each one. Every time I acted out of place, a higher power looked upon what I did; I know because I always felt a pair of eyes judging how I fulfilled my role.

In the end, I sinned. I sinned so much that all that was left for me to do was to escape from Time itself and travel in the Unending. Forever, I run from pursuers who wish for me to return so that I may be judged by the First Musician.

I took flight for a reason, one I don't think you'll understand just yet. You, who lingers on as a second set of eyes seeing down through the void. You've found me, and so I'll tell the rest of the story to any and all who will hear it.

On the morning following Aaliyah's escape from the Bali Estates, I appeared unto Tallah one last time...

\---------

"I know you're here, Janelle. You can't sneak up on me anymore."

Tallah's eyes were growing back, to the amazement of her doctors, and two charred pupils churned and basked in white liquid that leaked from her sockets. Every day, Tallah was able to see more; every day, her body began to recover. Her injuries were given special attention not normally reserved for mortals, but now, in having Awakened, Tallah managed to heal in all areas but her legs.

As of that moment, she would remain paralyzed for the foreseeable future.

"They told me that I should be able to go home in a little less than a month," she said, "after they take more time to figure out why my body's changed so much."

"Janelle," tears welled up in her eyes as she looked into mine, "thank you.

"Thank you for everything you've done. I was afraid things would be harder on my sister because of me, b-but—"

"Shh. My dear, remember to lower your voice. It is likely that no one else in this hospital can see me. Furthermore, Tallah, I've come to give my final goodbyes."

"You're leaving me?" She frowned. "That can't be true—Janelle, how can I be your Messenger if you aren't going to be around?"

"Sweet Tallah," I said to her, "no matter what happens, you'll always carry a piece of me inside of your spirit. The Gift I granted you is something you must learn to make your own, in the same manner that Aaliyah did."

"She suffered when she could've gone back."

Tallah began to weep. When I tried to approach her, she fought her emotions and looked at me with an expression that seemed defiant, as if I'd disrespected her.

"I'll make sure she never has to sacrifice herself for me again," she said.

"And that's why you'll work wonders with what I've given you, I'm certain. You've come so far, dear...

"You've been the witness to ongoing visions that collide within the midst of time; in order to do this, I allowed you shelter within my own Imago, the Imago of a Solace. Through my zol, you've seen the truth of other living beings within the Citadel, and now I feel compelled to share with you one final vision."

"Is it Aaliyah?"

She froze, recalling some of her previous anxiety.

"No, my child. This vision is of someone who happens to care about your sister very much. This one's cold-hearted but not totally devoid of human emotion. I'm afraid he's due to meet with the Grandmaster of the Angelos Association today...

"And all scheduled meetings with Ayer Kei, my dear, are deadly conflicts."
2

Shotobai

\---------

Tavon

\---------

"BE ATTUNED TO INNER CRAVING," says the Sidogush, "inner craving, called 'Iuneiv,' is represented by the Iuneiv Lotus. Find victory in war by tranquility and find the way to mastery by peace. Ieaquim."

In the Association gym, I've trained in a virtual field closed off from the main exercise room, a field made up of Iuneiv Lotuses.

The chamber I've used for the past three days generates a holographic enemy practiced in either one specific martial art or a combination of many. Each move I make reflects into the Iuneiv Lotuses.

It's said that these flowers create mirages based on human behavior and conjure up brief images of your actions. Every time I square off against an imaginary opponent, my moves resonate within each Lotus, and then I'll be distracted by hundreds of images of myself. It's believed that, in watching how you react in combat, there's a chance you can improve your form.

There are four chambers like this in total, but no one ever seems to use them when I'm around—huh... it's been a while since I've dedicated real time into strengthening my skills. Almost a full week before my meeting with the Grandmaster, I put my body's quick recovery to the test.

Every day after losing to that skeleton freak, I've lifted and focused on being able to sprint while packing the same power that grows each time I push myself. I've avoided Brock on purpose so that I'm not forced to waste my energy fighting him, and now...

I've got this. Even following my private sessions, I made sure to eat my fill and spend most of my savings on being able to afford enough food to get by. That's okay, though; it's all for my original goal: to become a Death Officer.

From there, I'll keep going.

I'll travel the world, and I'll see just how far I can go—I'll find out what it really means to be Strong.

\---------

The Grandmaster's private quarters are located on the top floor.

The main lobby of the Association Headquarters is decorated with a wide, red carpet that leads to an octagonal elevator. Actually, it looks more like a large carriage than an elevator, and the rails its attached to lead far up into the sky, stopping just beyond the rim of the Upper-City.

I'm on my way to the sliding, metallic doors, when—from an adjacent hallway close by—someone calls out to me:

"Hold up."

The voice doesn't register in my memory, but I'm jolted and freeze for a moment before deciding to confront whoever's coming my way.

"Yo." Some guy who sounds and looks close to my age steps a little closer, into the light, while chuckling. "I can't believe it's really you... —wait!"

This punk's wearing a black scarf that serves as a headband around and below cropped, russet-colored hair that's loosely lined up with a five o'clock shadow. His eyes are—

Woah. I think I do recognize him.

"Yo. Guy..."

He stares at me in wonderment. At the same time, I realize what a monster he's evolved into:

Three large plates are bundled up and strapped to his back, which is broad enough to nearly take up the size of two men, and each of his arms are at least twice the size of my own.

"Is your name 'Tavon?' Is it really you, dude?"

Silver pupils. Both of his irises are completely clear... I remember:

"Shotobai Higin-oe Niuzk of the Niuzk Family."

"Don't say my name out loud, idiot!"

He's an old friend, but I never expected to see him again. Not in this place.

"Shoto... why are you here?"

And then another figure strides out of the shadows, moving toward me faster than what I'm comfortable with. Before I know it, I'm backing away and putting up my fists.

It's...

Dammit.

It's him. Artemis Spilsbury.

"Oh dear..." Spilsbury grins with two blades extended from each hand, "I'd thought that our third encounter would result in gratitude."

"Gratitude?" I raise my voice defensively while Shoto tries to understand what's going on. "You wanted to kill me!"

"Wait!" Shoto interrupts, "What are you guys talking about—Spilsbury!"

He tries to get the skeleton freak's attention, but the two of us are locked in a battle of willpower as we stare each other down.

"Spilsbury!" Shoto calls again.

This time, Artemis scoffs and responds to him, "What is it, brat?"

"We're not here to kill him, Spilsbury—that's not what Inen asked us to do; besides,"—we both glance at each other for a brief second and exchange a nod—"this is an old friend of mine."

"I'd advise against recruiting such a weakling."

"Shut up, Spilsbury!" I take a step toward him, and he reacts by changing his stance, preparing to take a stab at me.

"You attacked me at my weakest. If you tried it now—all that shit you did before—I'd crush you right here."

"Is that so, weakling?"

The two of us pause, sizing each other up one final time before our rematch.

"Tavon, are you serious?" Shoto's already started pleading with me, and I feel kind of bad letting him down after the history we've got working for the Meiziki Clan.

"Listen, dude, if you're gonna get Interviewed, then you might as well be ready for the initiation! I'm a Death Officer, too, you know," he points his thumb at himself, "and these guys helped me realize my potential. Bro, I'm set to leave with my genzaon to chase my first Target in a few days!"

"Enough chatting with him, Shotobai. It's quite obvious that this one is far too dense to recognize an opportunity. Tavon, may I presume that you've changed your mind about us?"

I might be in a bind. Though my pride's at stake, I also realize that I can't afford to be either late or too tired to speak with the Grandmaster. But, if I refuse them again, it's likely that I'll have to fight at least one of them, and both are capable of causing me problems.

But, in the end...

Well. I hate Spilsbury.

"I'll make you pay for dishonoring me, Artemis. After that, I think I'll pay your boss a visit and teach him not to fuck with me as well. I'm at full strength, buddy."

Both of us tense at the same time, and I know that I'll be throwing everything away once blood starts flying.

Shoto steps in front of Artemis, and, damn, he works up the courage to glare at one of his allies, another of the sociopaths working for Noboros.

"I think we should let Tavon off today. Most encounters with the Grandmaster in his quarters don't go too well. He's not shy when it comes to killing other killers, and so we might as well give him a chance, don't you think? At least wear him down a bit."

"Listen here," Shoto slowly leans in and suddenly assumes a grave expression, "if he can't survive his First Encounter, then he's not qualified to fight any of us—and so you'd be wasting your time, Spilsbury. That's the truth!" he declares without waiting for a response and, simultaneously, nods for me to continue toward the elevator. "We'll let him get his shit kicked in. See if he's made of the right stuff, you know?"

"Very well." I hear Spilsbury say as I walk away from them. "However, there will be no more invitations the next time."

"That's fine." Shotobai chimes in, "If he doesn't wanna join, then why make hi—"

"And, just so you're aware, Tavon..."

The creep's voice carries throughout the hallway:

"Once you've refused an invitation, there's no being rid of us until the day you're hunted down, and, on that day, I'll skin you.

"I'll impale you in a thousand places, all the while keeping you alive. If something were to happen to me, Tavon, any other member would be tasked to execute you in retaliation."

Before I leave for the First Encounter, I look back at Shoto, who's crossed his arms and now glares at me.

If he's remaining silent, then that means he doesn't disagree with what that creep's saying—which means...

I'll eventually have to kill Shoto.
3

Ayer Kei

\---------

Tavon

\---------

ALL OF MY HARD WORK AND TRAINING HAVE LED UP TO THIS POINT.

The elevator stops at the very top of the Angelos Association, where the roof forms a broad, blue-scaled veranda set below four stone columns which rise to meet and fuse where a golden tarp cascades down around them.

And, in the middle of the veranda, there's the home of the Grandmaster. It looks more like a teahouse, honestly, with a brown, shuttered, and cylindrical roof over papered walls supported by the thin wooden beams that make up its structure. There appears to be some light coming from the inside, and it's brighter than the rays of the rising Sun across the distance. From within the small teahouse...

I hear the gentle, constant beating of a drum: ba-ba-bum, ba-ba-bum.

I'm not exactly sure of myself, of how to proceed into this guy's house, but I go forward anyways and to the open entrance, keeping in mind that the leader of the Association probably expects me to be confident in my own decisions.

At the exact instant I get close enough to look inside:

W-what is this? I can't comprehend how I'm feeling right now, but... i-it's some kind of fear I've never had until this moment. Some extraordinary sensation washes over me, and, suddenly, I'm tense beyond reason.

I've never felt power like this before. Throughout everything—after killing so many... no one person has ever given me such a deep, foreboding fear. It's even stronger than what Eyes From The Void was capable of.

I'm blinded by the vision of scorching flames. A searing headache takes over—ugh. I can feel him looking at me before I've even seen him for myself.

I've made a mistake.

I think it's too late to turn back now. I might've overestimated myself for once. The view ahead is beginning to clear, and the pain's not so bad—ache's just linked with the beat of the drum.

I see a grey afro that comes out like a frayed halo around the thick head of an old, skinny man with a long and wispy beard. His eyes are covered by black shades, and, with his legs crossed atop one another, he's straightened both hands and points one palm up while keeping the other down; he's spaced them perfectly so as to look like he's in meditation—but... there's something else...

All it takes is tapping into that same power I felt before—where is it? Someone giving off energy like that shouldn't be able to hide it from me so eas—!

Huh? I notice something I didn't from the start.

Behind the Grandmaster is the bronze, embroidered outline of a sphere; from the northeast, individual bodies that flow like rivers lead into a figure with three eyes who faces forward while throwing one leg over the other and using four arms to perform different gestures and functions. Something about studying this strange character deepens my awareness about the manner of human I've encountered.

This place feels... holy. The effect it has on me is enough that I'm compelled to remove my shoes before I continue, and, when I do:

More is revealed.

I sense a rekindling of the same power, and then, even though I sound crazy, I know that something's clawing at my mind without my permission.

Another step and I'm able to See.

There's a polished, wooden pole poking out of the ground. It wasn't there before, but now I see that the Grandmaster rests his back against it, and the end of the pole marks where a golden umbrella spreads out; it terminates at its borders in yellow specks of light that evaporate into nothing.

This umbrella's called a chatra. I know because my mentor in the Meiziki made use of one. In ways I don't understand myself, chatras are connected to beings that go beyond demons, and they show up a lot within the Sidogushan religion.

Maybe it's there to suppress his power—that's got to be the reason why he can control the ebb and flow of it so well. The more I try to analyze the old man, adorned in a white kimono with a flared, flaxen collar, the more I feel like he's an anomaly—but how? It's like he's conjuring an illusion to fool me.

From behind him, two more arms, made entirely of mustard-colored smog—but shaped to match the size of his other limbs in proportion—grow out of his back and curl over his head. The right one holds onto an unusually long pipe that the Grandmaster inhales from intermittently before unleashing huge puffs upon exhaling; the left extends a teacup toward a small, black pillar that rises to a stop at his chest and flattens out into a miniature riverbed with an ebony spike protruding from its center.

The last thing I failed to see, at first, was a brown stream that flows from the spike and on down into the teacup, which gives off residual steam once it's been filled halfway. He manages to stretch out his extra arm even farther than previously and then...

The Grandmaster places the cup on my side of a red mat, takes a quick puff, and looks up at me.

"What's goin' on, my man? It's been some years since I last looked on ya."

What did he just say to me?

The Grandmaster... if I'd met someone this weird in the past, I'd know it.

"Hello."

He breaks me out of my thought process.

"How do you know who I am?"

He raises one eyebrow and purses his lips.

"Boy," the Grandmaster says thoughtfully, "the fuck you think I am—stupid or somethin'? Real soon—and I mean, REAL soon, people gonna end up learnin' your name because of what you've done."

"And what are they claiming I did, Grandmaster?"

"Pfft." He tries to hold back a laugh and gestures for me to take a seat. "Boy kills a bunch of folks and doesn't know why he's been summoned by his master. Tell me, kid: just how old are you? Was I sent a child by mistake?"

I'm not sure how to conduct myself, and, because of this, I'm too confused to spend time trying to bother with this old man's insults. I take a seat on the mat, resting on my knees.

"Go ahead, take a sip, kid." He glances at the cup before me. "This is the custom in Satthana-Sidogush.

"According to many, many legends, Tirohei, there was a fellow who meditated under a tree and opened a way to godhood for himself. Those who abide by ancient Sidogushan traditions still recall the Goneik-ol'al, or: the tea ceremony.

"I still partake in the ceremony, and I personally believe that tea from divine Maia is good for the human spirit. Tirohei,"—he draws a cup for himself—"take part in this ceremony. Let me get inside ya head if you can dig it. Got it?"

It's less of a question than an absolute demand—but, also... he keeps calling me that. "Tirohei."

"I'm sorry, stranger, but my name is 'Tavon,' and I'm not inclined to take food or drink from strangers unless necessary."

He's quiet for a moment, and, suddenly, I feel nervous. If I perform the ceremony incorrectly, I might fail in his eyes.

In a second, I reconsider:

I chug half the cup, and the Grandmaster laughs before taking a sip.

"Tirohei, my man," he says, "you remind me too much of that fool idiot who came before you. To think you'd end up here. Damn shame it is, brother."

That pisses me off.

"My name is Tavon, old guy; I think you've got me mixed up with someone else."

"Do I really, mothafucker?"

The Grandmaster scowls just as sheer power envelops him and hits me like a burst of wind.

"The lost child who calls himself 'Tavon.'

"The one who's murdered enough to expose himself and bring shame—dishonor—upon the Association with his rudimentary tactics. Yeah, brother, I've been trailing you since your third kill.

"Maaan," he sighs and takes another puff, "you a goddamned idiot, I swear! I mean, don't you get how DNA works, son? How cameras work? You don't think stompin' 'round the block and punchin' mothafuckers to death is gonna draw attention to the ignorant fool doin' the business? Are you as stupid as your father?"

"What did you say, old man?"

The Grandmaster smacks me in the cheekbone with his pipe and shouts, "Call me 'old man' again, Tirohei, and I'll do to you what I should've done to you father long ago!"

"What are you talking about?"

He must be insane—he couldn't know.

"I don't have a father."

"Bullshit, Tirohei. You think you straight dropped outta the sky? Nah, somebody sired your ass, 'Tavon,' and it looks like you've gone down the same path he has. The two of you are one and the same.

"Tirohei, you're an addict, a killer, just like him."

I stand up and kick the cup, clenching my fists.

"Did you call me here to mock me? I fulfilled the prerequisites, didn't I? You didn't specify how you wanted the jobs don—"

Right before I can finish, he elongates and transforms into a version of himself composed entirely of the same smoke he's been blowing out this whole time. His body tears apart and becomes a stream that's headed my way!

My mouth's closed, but the essence of this cursed thing pours into my nose, eyes, and ears at once. Thick smoke fills my insides and causes me to start hacking as I fall on my knees. My vision blurs until going black, then—

\---------

I'm in the middle of nowhere, in nonexistence, and a misty blue horizon is all my eyes can see.

Clouds gather in the skies, quickly molding and shaping themselves into the image of the Grandmaster, whose smug expression beams at me from above.

You've Awakened.

Yet you can't fight Imago.

I've already made you lower your guard—

\---------

I cough while steadily fading back into consciousness, then I slowly come to the realization that the room's now overlaid with a dense, yellow fog that wasn't there before—dense enough to conceal anyone standing far enough away from me.

"You've Awakened, but, Avva, you are a stupid one, aren't ya? You succumbed to Imago in record time, boy, and you've come with no weapon?"

Where is he? I can hear his voice, but I don't see hi—

The Grandmaster steps out from the fog, and now he's stripped himself of his kimono to show off a lean, aged body wrapped in an old sarashi.

"No weapon?" He asks again.

The pipe in his hand extends, changing into a much different object. The bowl breaks into three branches that expand and end in the three tips of a trident—except each tip contains a small exit for smoke which pours without ceasing while under his control.

No time left—I reach inside for an adrenaline burst:

My thighs and calves expand, and I'm off—flying toward him, reaching one arm behind me and balling up my hand into a tight fist; I feel all the pent-up anger and ambition I've stored inside at once! The power that races through to my fingertips is amazing.

I feel a kind of warm pleasure when I dash inside his guard, and then I throw haymaker with more of a focus on my legs. This way, I can use my quads to push him with an attack instead of totally destroying the Grandmaster.

He smiles when backing up just an inch away from me, and a thick stream of smoke emerges from one of the trident's holes. It crosses between us for a second.

The Grandmaster spins his trident in an arc at his side and brings it out to swing at me, much quicker than I can react to. I catch the blow directly to my ribs, and I...

Fuck. He's stronger than I thought. With just that...

He's broken something—a rib, maybe—but it doesn't matter. I wrap my right arm around the body of the trident anyways, like I'd planned; I bring it close, tight to my chest and beyond pain I've shut out.

All I need is full power in one leg, and I crouch, generating energy that I'll send flowing to my upper body, into my next move. My quadriceps expand and then burst: I channel all momentum into my fist, which grows as well. I swing at the Grandmaster's head, and—

Another, second stream of smoke connects and feels like it's cushioning my fist. When I move closer to follow it through, it slows me down a second time—enough to enable him to both see and easily avoid my strike.

My attack was strong but much too strong for my body not to be affected by it. I lose my balance right before the eyes of my enemy.

The Grandmaster lightly whacks me on the top of my head with his trident and then says, seemingly, from farther away than he is:

"If you can't manage to impress me, Tirohei, I'm gonna have to correct the situation you've created for yourself.

"If you can't channel Shungej in more than one area, then you'll be fairly useless to me. That shit makes you a talentless monster.

"Hmph. I'm thinking I'll put an end to ya soo—"

I don't know what he's talking about, but I'll show him talent! It's harder to make both my upper body and lower body more powerful, but it's not impossible. I don't think I can trust spreading what control I've got evenly if the old man's gonna dish out hits like that, and so...

My energy concentrates in both arms, I rush him while there's little distance between us, believing I can negate his weapon easily.

I start in on a series of basic swings, which serve to test just how fast the old guy is. On my first swing, he simply moves his head to the side; on the second, he brushes my fist away while stepping in close; on the—

*BANG*

I hear it before I feel it: the bones in my face getting pushed in.

He punches me in the jaw; I hit the ground.

My forehead skids on the floor when I try to get to my feet and fall instead, but, at the same time, my fury worsens.

I can hear his footsteps.

I turn, and—fuc—!

The Grandmaster thrusts his trident at my chest. I jump back on instinct, also fully realizing that it won't save me.

Quickly, I converge everything into one arm, expanding it to its limits, and then throw it up—up into a faraway uppercut, sending wind skyward that jostles his weapon off from its target just enough...

He's lost his balance this time.

I sprint and send another uppercut into his stomach! I've finally managed to land a stri—

The Grandmaster explodes into golden smoke, and I'm blown off my feet as a result. While I've wasted time fighting a fake version of him, the fog's gotten heavier—and one of them is... changing?

It's condensing into a column that separates from the rest as it turns into something solid. I suspect that it's another clone on the way and race to stop it from producing a second, irritating old man.

At that same instant, it reaches for me.

Again, I hear it before I feel it. But, unlike the prior encounter, I react:

I cross my arms out in front of me, pooling strength into the best defense I have against what feels like the weight of the entire Citadel! It's too much!

I stagger away, thinking I'll be immediately killed, but the column averts course and passes beside me. Though my forearms have been charred and shredded, I must've been able to div—

*BANG*

I'm knocked down again. This strike comes from behind, and now my head's searing with pain—worst of all, I should've realized that he'd try to flank me once I'd gotten distracted with this stunt. Because of my mistake, there's a bad headache I've gotta power through when getting to my feet.

The Grandmaster's nowhere to be found. Another strike could come from any angle because the fog's denser—and, even if I do see it coming...

I'm not strong enough. At least, I can't fight clones and the surrounding environment at the same time. I need the real Grandmaster.

"If this is supposed to be a test of my skill, then why are you using basic tricks against me?"

Another apparition, a clone of him formed from a tighter collection of smog clouds, steps out with his trident held up and ready to strike.

"The power I sent your way should've been enough to break your neck."

He comes at me with an overhead swing; I duck and roll to the side, then the Grandmaster crouches down reflexively, and I back away; I back away and charge in again, understanding, in some subtle manner, that moving on the offensive will serve me best.

Up until this point, it always has.

Without a real weapon, the old man probably doesn't expect such an aggressive fighting style.

I feint with a strike that falls short of his head and then quickly jab at his torso:

This breaks the illusion, and that's gotta be it—it has to be:

If one of my hits connects with a clone, it'll be destroyed on contact, but—just as that realization sets in—the Grandmaster alters the battlefield.

Four pillars soar around me, and his voice rings out:

"Your mastery of zol is so poor that it brings me grief! Do you really only know how to use Jeigon—using just your fists?

"A Senior Lieutenant of the Meiziki, the son of one of my Officers: Tirohei, a true weakling, a common thug!"

"Shut the fuck up, old man."

That's it—I can still feel the rage building inside of me. It's an anger borne out of knowing the hard work I've put into the Association.

I am strong.

That's my one value. Even if I can't be loved or feel love in this world, I know that I can overcome this. I'll master Shungej.

I concentrate pure strength throughout my entire body; though not every limb and part of me will be at its max, I think I'll have just enough to keep u—

A fifth pillar strikes my side!

Shii—

Wait! It's not as bad as I think; I—no! There's nothing I can do when I see that all of them come for me at once! Nothing I can do but focus on building my strength, fortifying my body, and...

It's not enough.

I'm blown backward, spitting up blood from impacts my own shock prevents me from feeling. At that same moment, my instincts take over. Something deeper inside takes advantage of the shock pouring through me, creating endless adrenaline.

My hamstrings tighten. I bring my feet down with a loud thud. My abs contract, and I stand straight.

I shout: "Enough of the fucking magic, old man!

"If you really want to see what I'm made of, how about you fight me yourself. Fight me instead of trying to hide! You must think you're pretty cool, huh? But I think, really, that you're just a fragile old man, afraid to enter battle himself."

"That so, eh?"

I hesitate, wondering if he'll send another barrage of clouds to spite me, then:

"Yeah. You want to test me, right? Heh. You're the Grandmaster, so why are you afraid?"

"Shut your mouth."

That's all I hear in response, and then the smog around me starts to weaken, to clear enough that more of the room is visible. Before long, I can see the Grandmaster in his sarashi.

He's still sitting down. Still drinking his tea.

"You talk a fair game, mothafucker."

The Grandmaster places his cup on the ground and stands up. He strides a little closer and then puffs out his chest—at the same time, I feel the pressure coming off of him intensify.

"You've got more balls than your father. That's a fact."

"I'm not my father."

I take my stand against him, with both fists clenched, more than ready to dish out everything I've felt since I woke up in this city.

"No one raised me, shithead! I decided what I would do for myself! It's time for this to end."

I don't want to hear anymore, but—

"Meursault seems to feel not for you, either, brotha."

The bastard... he frowns, like he's sorry for me.

"The two of you are one and the same." he says. "Two murdering addicts not talented enough to be bothered with. And, on that note, my man—"

—SHUDO: FIRST TRANQUILITY—

Before my eyes... he's changed the battlefield again.

The Grandmaster, the leader of all Association assassins... he demonstrates his power:

In seconds, his entire body packs on dense musculature that won't quit expanding. A golden light envelops him; his eyes glare with a bright white. The Grandmaster makes me look scrawny in comparison. He even drops his trident and gets into a boxing stance.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT THEN?" his voice, having deepened, booms, "I'LL REVEAL TO YOU WHAT YOU HAVEN'T BOTHERED TO LEARN."

I step to him.

I rush in, then I bring on everything I've kept back. All this time, I tried to keep it from overcoming me. Shining darkness, something from within that I don't understand and what allowed me to deal with Ekwueme. All the pain that's been dealt to me... all of it will be released. Finally.

With everything I've got left, I leap toward the Grandmaster. Darkness shrouds me in a contrasting light, and he responds in kind. My right arm increases to thrice its original size—veins burst out from my skin. A bleak energy covers me while it carries scorching heat, the rage that precedes destruction. He charges at me with a calmness I don't understand:

There's a flash of light.

Consciousness fades...

Fades...

Dark until...

"What a shame. Such potential. My brotha, why did you have to mess around and hide this from me? Sheesh. What a damn shame."

\---------

TO BE CONTINUED...

AFTERWORD:

I go by 'Josh.' If you ever happen to meet me in person, 'Josh' is fine.

On my journey to be a writer, I wanted to create fictional art that would serve as authentic inspiration. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of Existentialist writers as well as those who started the Transgressionalist genre of literature.

My name is Josh, and I was a certified Emergency Medical Technician, a soldier, and someone who grew up constantly reading and writing. My dream is to create genuine content that reflects the power of individual determination. At the same time, I want to be able to make what I create widely available.

Thank you for taking the time to read that into which I've put tons of time and stress. Unfortunately, I can't help but continue to write, and so I expect Angelos Odyssey to go on for some time.

Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you'll stay with me to see this series to its conclusion. If you enjoy what you've read so far, the best support you can offer is to leave an honest review anywhere you can.

Sincerely,

Josh

