

ANGELOS ODYSSEY

VOLUME THREE

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: 978-0-578-60896-9 (print)

ISBN: 978-0-578-60897-6 (ebook)
"Be vigilant and go beyond death. If you lack vigilance, you cannot escape death. Those who strive earnestly will go beyond death; those who do not can never come to life."  
― The Dhammapada
For

Alex Feltner

Kate Sexton

Bradley Austin

Clovie Mills

Leona Raley
CONTENTS

-

PART ONE: Catastrophe

-

1 – The Song Of Destruction

2 – Showdown

3 – A Second Chance

4 – Last Recollection

\--

PART TWO: The Father

\--

1 – Cengiz Meiziki

2 – Repercussions

3 – The First Seneschal

4 – The Second Seneschal

5 – The Third Seneschal

6 – The Fourth Seneschal

7 – Politics

8 – Phaedrus

\---

PART THREE: The White Wing Brief

\---

1 – Mr. Mauros

2 – Vigilance

3 – Foresight

\----

PART FOUR: Four Seasons

\----

1 – Spring

2 – Summer

3 – Fall

4 – Winter

\-----

PART FIVE: The Curse

\-----

1 – Preparations

2 – Departure

3 – Pursuit

4 – The Outskirts

5 – Shotobai

6 – Deliberations

7 – Selection

8 – The Time Sutra

9 – Aletheia's Ocean

10 – The Center

11 – Shimonku

12 – Seranull

13 – Aletheia

14 – Seneschal Jigen

15 – Ithacai

16 – Cephamatu

17 – Points Of Convergence

18 – Silo

19 – Technique And Strategy

20 – Sunset

21 – Nadir

\------

PART SIX: Silo

\------

1 – Red Mask

2 – Green Mask

3 – Blue Mask

4 – Gold Mask

5 – The Doctor

6 – Eros

7 – Fornication

8 – Izu Crom

9 – White Mask

10 – Parting

11 – Free Will

\-------

PART SEVEN: Two Devils

\-------

1 – Amour Bali

2 – Zola Bali

\--------

PART EIGHT: Raiko

\--------

1 – Initiation

2 – Perspectives

\---------

PART NINE: Brock

\---------

1 – Regret

2 – The Absurd

3 – Second Wind

\----------

PART TEN: Aaliyah

\----------

1 – Sisters

2 – The Game

\-----------

PART ELEVEN: The Battlefield

\-----------

1 – The Insurrection

2 – The Manipulator

3 – Assault

4 – Naomasa's Revelation

5 – The Artificial God

6 – Scourge

7 – The Moonstone Fleet

8 – Honor

9 – Good And Evil

10 – Livid

\------------

PART TWELVE: The Fall

\------------

1 – Mr. Thume

2 – Distrust

3 – Love

4 – Magnum Opus

\-------------

PART THIRTEEN: The Assassination

\-------------

1 – Supremacy

2 – Viper

3 – A Memory

4 – The Most Dangerous Man

\--------------

PART FOURTEEN: Wanted

\--------------

1 – A Life Of Training

2 – Toughening

3 – Champion Stolor

4 – Zone D

5 – Intermission

6 – Vengeance

7 – King Of The Javelin

8 – The 100's

9 – The Pyrite Brigade

10 – Champion Onindiva

11 – Water

12 – Commander Sade

13 – The Way

14 – The Coming Storm

15 – Blue Oasis

16 – Bittersweet

17 – Pythagora

18 – The Red Storm

\---------------

PART FIFTEEN: Aurora

\---------------

1 – Parting Words

2 – Trouble

3 – Epilogue

AFTERWORD

My name is Janelle, and I will sing a song of destruction.
-

PART ONE

Catastrophe

-

1

The Song Of Destruction

-

Janelle

-

It began in much the same way as an orchestra would: with four movements.

Sonata

Deep from within Zone H, the black heart of the Citadel and a festering wound threatening to cripple the Dawn Federation, a maelstrom of unknowable terror shrieked longingly into the heavens.

The sound of dread, a scream like no other, blasted against the Mid-City and through it into the highest reaches of the Upper-City. It was the call of a haunted being, one that stretched to rake the eardrums of its sole target.

Human hatred, loss, disillusionment, crushed dreams, vows of vengeance, political impotency, and, most of all, grief seethed and spilled over into one central area and under the hungry eyes of a Mulungu. The dark heart of the Citadel beat with a crazed fervency while absorbing the last of the misery it possibly could. It screamed once more; this time, the whole city shook against the power of a being created from the merging of the Mulungu with an embodiment of suffering so pure that it took on a greater form.

The Centi emerged: a colossal black insect with the face of a ghoul, dense, dirt-colored strands extending from its segmented body, and over a hundred rows of long, slender teeth.

Darkness—or rather, a type of darkness defined as "rouketin" by zol scholars—exploded out in columns that tore through Akashira Village; the humongous, worm-like body of the Centi congealed and simultaneously crushed the bell tower beneath it. From a distance away, a tornado of swirling grey and black was all that could be seen as it grew and grew, larger than any single construction. Upon its third and final shriek, the Centi's body sprouted dark follicles which combined to form dark fur; pairs of spindly, clawed legs appeared along the entirety of it.

The Centi curled in on itself, forming a spire that just touched the middle of one of the many major hyper rails near it. Its body inhaled, drawing into it the despair felt all around by those who had survived its emergence. From above, the Centi devoured feelings of frustration. Feelings of guilt. Feelings of madness.

It screamed, and, at last, everyone listening understood the Centi clearly:

DEREIKAUND.

Adagio

And there it was, a twisted god born from human pain, pain that had been buried beneath so much neglected potential. Without knowing it, the dreams of a country struggling with unrest had made themselves manifest.

The Centi's feral consciousness evolved alongside the clarity of its voice. Every desire it had collected underwent a metamorphosis induced by the malignant nature of the Mulungu, and therefore, at the pinnacle of its development, the Centi resolved to fulfill one purpose: to go after the one responsible. Every woe endured by the Federation's citizens became fixed upon the fulcrum of a collective desire for civil retribution; thus, as millions of eyes gazed in terror at the malicious spirit, the Centi made its first move.

It uncurled its tail, jerked its head upward, and then swung its lower body in an arc which destroyed and then flattened the bottom landing of Zone H. Supporting foundations caved to bring tall housing complexes with them; the Ministry checkpoints nearest to the Lower-City were obliterated; thousands plunged toward their deaths.

The Centi repositioned its top half at angle so that it faced the skyward tunnel of Zone H. Without giving those above any further clue as to what was to happen next, it sprung up, breaking through the first hyper rail with which it made contact. Once striking a second this rail bent instead of breaking, as it had been part of a greater network of highways spanning the passage leading into the Mid-City. While the Centi flew under, forcing its back against the same rail again, it crashed into a series of smaller lanes above it. Dozens of rails bent against its might, and—just when the Centi seemed to have reached the peak of its strength—it absorbed even more of the dread surrounding it. As fear increased across the Citadel, so, too, did its size and power. Eventually, it broke through at least fourteen rails formed from both steel and moa, but its body remained unharmed; on the contrary, the Centi's ascent doubled in speed. It collided with several more highways before striking the largest power station contained within Zone H.

Despite the considerably tremendous weight boasted by most power stations, Zone H's was simply brushed aside. It toppled, breaking into uneven segments after colliding with the walls of the tunnel. From there, each fragment detonated upon contact with the structures nearest to them. The resulting blasts from sections of the station were heard by every citizen before the situation garnered the full attention of all broadcasting stations.

Already many steps ahead of the media, the Dawn Knights of the Soe Brigade decided to act.

General Orito, who had received news of the threat via his SPEC.N, ordered his brigade to organize demolition teams prepared to detonate larger chunks of debris which would fly down, like spears, toward an impenetrable enemy. However, the Miyushi and Iketsun syndicates, believing they were more than enough to deal with the incoming threat, had plans of their own. Rather than fleeing, members of both sides unleashed their arsenals upon a ghoulish skull with eyes somehow fixed on all of them at once, eyes which bespoke bleak, unending torment.

But the Centi approached too quickly. A shockwave enveloped the vanguards who had surrounded it. Time slowed, then the god of anguish emitted energy which decayed everything it touched. The Centi groaned, groaned so loudly and horribly that it shattered the eardrums of all members of the Ministry's demolition squads. Sudden pain followed by immediate deafness prompted the Knights to flee after detonating what was left of the upper rails of Zone H:

A hail of metal rained down to impale the Centi, yet, when it groaned with a voice that shook the Citadel, the very vibration of it knocked away the larger slabs of debris. Regardless, it was unavoidable that the rest of the hyper rail network which had once layered the Zone would collapse onto the abomination's head, with several rails rolling over it to press upon its back. Altogether, several thousand tons of weight bore down on the Centi, promising to push it back into the depths.

However, it continued to move.

The Centi steadily forced itself upward as further debris fell across its unfolding form. It crawled in the direction of the first checkpoint, where it was ambushed by the bulk of the Soe Brigade. Behind them, every last Dawn Knight stationed within Zone H had gathered as reinforcements. General Orito, of course, did not spearhead his division; instead, all Captains (except for the Fifth) were expected to confront the Centi from opposite positions and with unique teams of grenadiers.

Thus, when the head of the Centi had barely edged above the beginnings of the great tunnel, the closest riflemen unleashed a barrage of both lead and energy-based ammunition; grenades as well as tear gas were thrown down the hole; from afar, mortar Knights let loose a colossal wave of ordnances strong enough to kill a handful of their own soldiers.

Against this storm of oppression, the Centi made little to no sound. It was speculated that perhaps it whimpered against such an onslaught, that it felt the full force of what was close to half of the soldiers serving the Ministry of Beautification. Those valiant Knights imagined that the Centi would succumb to their trap and fall to its death, fall to crush some unfortunate section of the Lower-City.

Progressively, each of the riflemen paused to reload amidst clouds of smoke...

Scherzo

While on his way to the White Wing Brief, President Derek rapidly became aware of the demonic entity which had chanted his name.

-

Derek

-

Once I've sensed it, I ask my subordinate, Ivonne, if he's caught on:

"What an awful tau. Hmm. I cannot begin to describe it, but it would seem the intent has been made quite clear."

Ivonne barely glances over to acknowledge what I've said.

"Mr. President?"

"Ivonne... you are a Death Officer 4, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And yet you can't feel it? Can't feel all the dread coming from below?"

"Sir?"

"With Imago, Ivonne. For once, seek with your mind."

Ivonne nods, but he still doesn't comprehend. Fool that he is, I am forced to sit near him while in my presidential cruiser and traveling through the Upper-City. Because his prowess is insufficient, I must act using my own wisdom as a guide—

"Ivonne, contact the Grandmaster of the Angelos Association. Quickly, Ivonne, and preferably before you feel it hit you—"

It hits him. The "dread" I mentioned beforehand.

He now perceives what I had moments ago as he goes utterly rigid. He perceives the frenzied birth of something which has no right to exist. Small jolts of adrenaline race through me, bleak reminders that warn of an evil directed at my very being.

"Death Officer 4, Rufino,"—I call to the man acting as my chauffeur—"convert this cruiser into a zekokon, establish a concentric route around the Upper-City, and have the Staff Commanders of the White Wing Brief mobilize their vessels so that we may rendezvous whilst avoiding whatever it is which lurks below..."

-

Janelle

-

DEREIKAUND.

With its roar, the Centi generated rouketin, which is known in folklore as the "tau of the dead," and it unleashed a great wave of energy. This manifestation of infected zol decimated the ranks of the Soe Brigade in charge of the ongoing offensive.

The Centi spiraled through every formation that dared to block its path into Zone D. It expanded to resemble a human nervous system which branched out in all directions, ripping through the Ministry's stronghold as well as eliminating all but one Captain of the Soe Brigade. General Orito, rather than ordering attacks using Zone H's remaining heavy weapon systems, fled in terror despite having been well out of the abomination's way; as a result, both he and Third Captain Luthicklug were the sole survivors of their unit, the only ones remaining who could testify to the path of destruction wrought by the Centi.

It crossed through Zone D, growling as it left hatchlings in its wake, and what it produced were small, ravenous parasites. Bulbous head peaked from ink-black bodies; ivory teeth gleamed from blacker holes, and hundreds of legs trampled the streets beneath, crawling closer toward the center of the Citadel. Writhing, parasitic bodies of malice beset the first Zone.

When these creatures initially stormed the aquarium in Zone D, those misfortunate enough to catch sight of them were Awakened too early. Both humans and Hayashi, of all ages, morphed into horrid perversions and were overcome by malformed bones that never ceased growing coupled with torn, mangled flesh—which itself was even more appetizing for the putrid worms that devoured them.

Those who didn't look, those too afraid, ran for their lives; in contrast, those who stole a glance back were instantaneously transformed into gruesome contortions of flesh. Families were split apart by the same foolish mistakes, but the consequences of their actions encouraged other onlookers to continue fleeing as parasites of varying sizes pursued them.

Not only were there creeping, octopoid menaces seeping through every alleyway, but amoeba-like demons stretched their amorphous bodies across concrete and steel; they covered yards with one step, and their claws closed in on those nearest to them before the commencement of a great massacre. The spawn of the Centi were the offspring of bloodthirsty resentment. This resentment tore through a great deal of Zone D as the Centi attempted to soar farther upward. Because of its central obsession, only zones C, E, and what was left of Zone H were invaded by abominations that all but halved the population immediately outside of the Mid-City's central area. The Mid-City as a whole was polluted with wanton death as well as a hunger which could not be easily sated.

Once the Zone D Projects had been affected, the last of Zone D's criminal syndicates resolved to protect their families at all costs. Mob elements laid fire upon the enormous worm that soared into the upper reaches of the Citadel. When their attacks proved ineffective, some fled while others worked with Zone police to defend those besieged by the Centi's spawn.

Terror had become a unifying agent as further efforts to defend the Dawn Federation began to mount.

-

Derek

-

"Sir," Ivonne raises his voice with urgency as he addresses me; his eagerness softens my heart as he speaks:

"I kindly ask that you allow us to be proactive in handling the beast. We're trained to deal with threats of this this magnitude, and, if you allow us free reign, Rufino and I can accomplish what the Ministry couldn't. This I promise you."

-

Janelle

-

More devastating than the Centi or its spawn was the addition of multiple falling power stations that lined its path toward Zone B. As a inevitable consequence, each fall generated a great surge of power which affected the overall status of the Citadel at all levels. For a moment, billions of jets keeping the city suspended were taken off the main circuit, and, suddenly, all of the Dawn Federation was at risk of plunging into the World Below. Furthermore, each fall resulted in deadly explosions that promptly extinguished the lives of hundreds of innocents.

The demonic worm lured in by Noboros, one of the world's most notorious criminal organizations, had left behind all the woe it contained.

President Derek's vision of a utopia never took into account the whims of strange forces which might've emerged from within. Because of the Centi's unexpected appearance, the Dawn Federation preserved in the aftermath would be forever changed. The dreams of days past had vanished in the face of a reaper whose hatred showered the Citadel in scorn.

Allegro

-

Derek

-

"It's entered the Monorail, Mr. President. Mr. President?"

"Yes, Staff Commander Ido?" I address his hologram using my SPEC.N.

"It was just a normal day in Zone B. We... we couldn't caution them in time. They were making a regular commute, and we couldn't save them."

"Ieaquim. Be steadfast, Commander. I've ordered Officers Ivonne and Rufino to put an end to it."

-

Janelle

-

There was Ivonne, who specialized in Maia, who had synthesized two Spectrums: Pythagora and Maia to better his archery. He sprouted white wings out of his back, wings which symbolized pure intentions and the qualities imbued upon followers of the Mosowashi Interpretation of the Sidogush. His pale bow was said to have been blessed by a benevolent deity who was touched by both his pure heart and disciplined mind.

His companion, who also personally guarded the President, Rufino, swung an iron ball from a long chain with a giant's confidence. He was said to have killed over three hundred people, adults and children alike. Death Officer Rufino was known for his ability to act without hesitation; thus, he had been chosen for both his strength as well as his brashness.

From the heights of the Monorail—at least a dozen miles above the Centi—a golden light descended. Radiant spheres of molten tau occupied the remainder of the grand passage, pelting the devil in pursuit. Following that, golden clouds descended, thickened, and filled the Monorail. The Centi's ascent was slowed by the essence of a mighty spirit, and that's precisely when both Death Officers made their moves:

Rufino acted first, neglecting to work in conjunction with his ally, Ivonne. Rufino directed himself to fall upon a lower platform whilst also expanding his legs to catch the impact. He triggered the full extent of his zol as he landed on the east side of the Monorail—right before the head of the Centi.

He reeled the ball of his weapon behind him, then Rufino refocused his zol so that he could recall the discipline of Shungej properly: both of his legs tripled in size, then he sprang from the steel platform beneath him with enough pressure to crack its surface.

Rufino cleared his mind. He recalled Shungej again and expanded his arm muscles, swung with all of his gathered strength, struck the midsection of the Centi, and miniature spawn soared after him as he landed upon the broken spire of the nearest hyper rail. Rufino thought himself agile; he slid down, sprang from the side of the rail, then he made contact with a platform on the west end. From there, he launched himself in the direction of the Centi.

But human-sized maggots, with raven wings that propelled them through the Monorail, came for his eyes.

They tore the skin from his cheeks, raked his septum through. Vicious beasts closed in on Rufino, biting and clawing until his body sang with upward bursts of bright blood while he fell to his demise.

Ivonne appeared right after his companion, unaware that Rufino had already been defeated. As if he were an angel, Ivonne soared to meet the Centi head on and not so far away now from the Upper-City.

When the Centi sensed the presence of Ivonne's zol, its face reformed. One thousand devilish mouths tasted the air; at once, this great devil understood that it had encountered a powerful foe. As Ivonne strung an arrow formed from his manifested tau, the Centi lunged for his position.

Ivonne quickly glided away as the body of it ascended past him; meanwhile, a column of clouds drifted down from above to strike the many open jaws of the Centi. The Centi, however, absorbed what was equal to divine destruction. Its wretched body bloated momentarily before it compressed blinding, celestial light into nothingness.

Ivonne increased his notched-arrow count to four, then he released with strength that pushed him back upon recoil: four arrows composed of zol impaled the lower half of the Centi against the west side of the Monorail prior to it breaking free seconds later. Ivonne flew in pursuit, and the Centi reacted to two different forces.

First, the Centi found itself submerged in an armada of dust-hued clouds which forcible slowed its chase. From below, Ivonne soared skyward as he notched another arrow.

The Centi screamed with an enraged and frightening incoherence. It swung its body in a spiral which echoed down the length of a threatening tempest that would continue to expand, to consume. A nervous system composed of human agony shook in an effort to break free yet again. Ivonne narrowly evaded the Centi as it crashed its spine into the wall next to him. He fired again:

This shot imploded against the tail of Centi, which smashed itself against the middle of the Monorail; it broke through both moa and steel, then it rebounded. It dashed Ivonne's upper body against the Monorail, turning him into half a corpse before he could react. Ivonne's adversary had been much faster than him, yet, indulged in unbridled patriotism, he had failed to exercise caution against such a terrible opponent.

And so, there remained just one human present and willing to stand against the abomination. As the Centi moved after this new prey, more and more clouds, formed from both fire and gold, surrounded it. Soon, the Centi was ambushed by a field of zol which threatened to encage it. It was flanked, with a number of clouds obscuring its original path as well as the various establishments within the Upper-City surrounding it.

The Centi groaned, echoing sorrow that shook the Citadel...

Looming just before its vacuous eyes, he levitated. The Grandmaster, lost in gentle contemplation.
2

Showdown

-

Janelle

-

The crawling devil Centi encountered the Ayer Kei, the Grandmaster of the Angelos Association, who appeared to meditate amidst the flurry of clouds enveloping him.

Having discovered a new target to consume, the Centi spiraled his way. Above all others, the Grandmaster appeared to be the most prominent source of zol, and so each of the Centi's mouths combined into one which closed over Ayer Kei. Fumes burst from its jaws, fumes followed by a scream of pain that rattled the skies. Golden flames spouted from in between its many teeth; the great beast swung its head back to growl once more.

From a distance, the real Ayer Kei hovered in meditation, his hands grasping clouds that turned to flames and then to static bolts of lightning fused from bright embers.

"Through Lord Adhirohah, I spurn thee." he said.

An asymmetrical orb shimmered behind his form as a crimson sun. It became twice as radiant when a spear of divine zol solidified in the Grandmaster's hand. The molten spear breathed fire into flowery outcroppings directed away from his body so that it would not be incinerated.

"I spurn thee, for your rage is misguided."

—SHUDO: FIRST TRANQUILITY—

Ayer Kei abruptly doubled in size and just as the Centi turned to set its focus once more upon its greatest enemy. The Centi's distorted face scowled while it simultaneously shrieked, its jaws contorting, spinning, and metamorphosing into a black whirlpool which threatened to consume the Grandmaster as it charged toward him!

But then...

Ayer Kei, backed by thousands of sentinels that had risen from both the Mid and Lower-Cities to defend the President, threw a spear containing merely a portion of the power which really belonged to a fearsome deity:

The entirety of the Upper-City erupted under the light of Roukilis, known as "the light of the gods." This very blast broke the sound barrier—subsequent to it, every available sentinel charged in the direction of flames which swallowed the atmosphere, flames shining out across the World Below as if they were beacons warning against further invasion to all who could see. The Centi wailed while it was given little time to respond once endless waves of sentinels, arranged like metallic hornets poised to strike, closed in on its location and with the full extent of their accumulated firepower. If a sentinel came within a few feet of the ethereal being, it self-destructed; after the first twenty soldiers had detonated against the Centi's body, it at last began to weakly hunch over. It wailed much more quietly this time, perhaps signaling its wish to surrender, yet hundreds upon thousands of sentinels refused to yield.

The Centi's head arced plainly, producing a resounding "CRACK," then it soared down, bringing the whole of its body with it while still more sentinels fired in its direction. And, observing an unnatural as well as sudden distribution of zol, Grandmaster Ayer Kei hesitated. There was only one question left in his mind:

Should I pursue them?

He felt the presence of two sources now. His mind sought what his eyes couldn't; he cautiously examined the natures of their respective wills.

-

Hadrien, the thirteenth member of Noboros—referred to as "Shieldbearer,"—also hesitated upon witnessing the defeat of the Centi. Once it had been surrounded and struck with an explosive myriad during its descent, the Centi's aura unexpectedly diffused across the Citadel.

Rather than dissolving all at once in one fatal death knell, the essence of dread made itself keenly felt throughout the country as narrow, blackened pillars leaked down into the depths of the Citadel. Although no one was prematurely Awakened from encountering the Centi's essence once more, all immediately experienced intense paranoia that ensnared them within a singular moment of vivid terror.

However, the Shieldbearer firmly believed that he felt the presence of someone familiar in the midst of the chaos.

"He's..."

Hadrien paused to brace himself for what was to come.

"He's not dead."

-

The twelfth member of Noboros, Eyes From The Void, was indeed still alive.

His Imago, renowned for being one of the strongest on Earth, sensed his ally long before Hadrien had become aware of his comrade's survival. Therefore, Eyes From The Void sought Hadrien out first once he had escaped definitively from the dying, steadily evaporating body of the Centi. His expressed tau resembled a dark hand that reached out at Hadrien from the depths of the fog which came to surround him.

This field of shadows will only serve us for a short time. We must hurry if we're to finish off the Grandmaster.

"Eyes?"

Hadrien, his teal irises quivering beneath stark-white hair, removed two blue and round shields from his back; two chains dangled from each prior to him swinging both out as he felt the Grandmaster approach. Preceding Ayer Kei's resplendent zol, a golden light illuminated his arrival.

Eyes From The Void recomposed himself into his usual cloaked body, absorbing what was once fog into a corporeal form, yet black emanations remained in an outline around him. Resting in both of his hands was the Axe of Judgment: a rather weak weapon that's true power was in a special curse which had been laid upon it by its wielder.

"How did you survive, Eyes?" Hadrien exclaimed, "I thought you'd... you know..."

The spawn of the Mulungu did not wait to evolve into perfection. Instead it confronted a foe who matched its strength too closely too soon, then it weakened.

I was set free the moment it broke its own neck, but I took a portion of the Centi's energy with me.

Eyes From The Void stalled when taking notice of dozens of Kei's clones having gathered in a tight formation. Each aiming their tridents forward; clouds were evoked from all but one head.

This energy is possibly the only thing keeping me alive, though I feel it fading fast. Hadrien, eliminating the Grandmaster, here and now, will permanently alter the course of the Citadels' future.

The Shieldbearer grunted in response. He twirled one of his shields behind him while rotating the other in front, keeping it in constant motion. Using the rear shield's gathered momentum, Hadrien swung with impeccable accuracy at the one he believed had to be the true Grandmaster.

His shield cleanly sliced apart a cloud which gave no resistance; it passed through to implode, and a steaming geyser shot skyward in place of where the clone had previously been.

—SHUDO: FIRST TRANQUILITY—

Each of his puppets expanded in stature, some even bulkier than others, and each charged at Hadrien as his shield reformed in time for him to retrieve it. Hadrien blasted two more clones with a scalding waterfall that exploded out from one shield and destroyed three more while defending himself with the other, but he knew that he couldn't react in time to avoid two more who had flanked him immediately afterward.

Eyes From The Void touched the blade of his axe; the fingers on both of his hands glowed with shapeless, indigo light, then he broke off two pieces that he flung into the heads of Hadrien's assailants.

Although its fragments had not pierced their real target, the Axe of Judgment's curse had been invoked, for its condition only required contact with the extension of another's will. In this case, touching one of Kei's apparitions triggered Eyes From The Void's most dangerous ability:

He created a phantom in the image of the Grandmaster, one barely detailed but clear enough in what it portrayed. In spite of having dulled his Axe, one swing of it would put an end to the fight, as what was done to this phantom would manifest in reality.

Eyes From The Void swung at the phantom's head—

Ayer Kei, who had patiently waited behind his personal army while playing the role of a true tactician, charged at his prey.

The Grandmaster impaled the twelfth member of Noboros through his abdomen; he then thrusted his trident deeper, into the white, marbled surface below, and ignited powerful flames that engulfed Eyes From The Void in one burst. Not a sound was heard as Ayer Kei's target burned to a cinder in the time it took to blink.

Meanwhile, Hadrien had already anticipated that his companion would fall. As such, he had been carrying out a plan of his own which involved decimating the rest of Kei's clones with pure finesse while the Grandmaster was distracted. Once the Shieldbearer had finished off the last of Kei's doubles, he could only watch from afar as the flaming middle blade of the Grandmaster's trident erupted through his ally's stomach and vanquished him before Hadrien had time to act.

Hadrien lunged toward Ayer Kei. He swung one of his shields horizontally, cutting its attached chain links short enough that the Grandmaster was able to evade the attack by merely jumping back.

Hadrien followed with a hard overhead swing—

But his shield landed too far forward of Kei's position, a hissing lake exploding outward from it. Despite the Grandmaster feeling more than confident that an opening had revealed itself, Hadrien plunged ahead whilst leaving his primary weapons behind him.

Instead of continuing to swing at his target from far away, Hadrien did the unexpected: he tackled Ayer Kei.

Hadrien forced his opponent as well as himself toward the murky lake, then they both fell through what became an aquatic portal.

-

Hadrien was born out of the union between a Hayashi and a human. It was because of this union, particularly his Hayashi heritage, that he felt most at home near open bodies of water. Due to his unique physiology (and much like the full-blooded Hayashi), his speed increased exponentially when traveling via bodies of water. Thus, as part of his strategy for an assured victory, he had developed his Maia in a manner conducive to his talents...

-

The Grandmaster was submerged in an infinite ocean, the world that the Shieldbearer had created in order to trump the defenses of his human enemies.

Whereas Ayer Kei would be forced to hold his breath for an indeterminable period of time, Hadrien would have no issue maneuvering because of the select groupings of gills along both his arms and legs. He flew speedily before the Grandmaster and with both of his shields trailing behind him. In response, Kei generated a light barrier around himself while he entered a very formal style of meditation. Kei rested the ankles of his feet atop his thighs and appeared to ignore the Shieldbearer completely.

"What's wrong?" Hadrien taunted him, "Have you run out of tricks, old man?"

When he noticed small bubbles sift from in between the Grandmaster's lips, Hadrien seized the opportunity to destroy him. He surged forward, reeling both shields back with the ecstasy of grand ambition!

Bubbles then poured from his eyelids, from his ears as well. Those bubbles were consumed by tiny flames; smoke issued from around Ayer Kei as mere embers turned to grand ruby fire which collected around him and grew to encompass nearly half of Hadrien's ocean.

The Grandmaster's eyes became a scorching red and then beamed with spheres of golden magma before he spoke with a gust of ethereal energy:

"OM NAMAH SHIVAYA."

-

Light more magnificent than the face of the Sun enshrouded the Upper-City. Such a great deal of zol had gathered in one spot, defying all natural laws, and blazed through with enough power to reach the hearts and minds of those within both the Upper and Mid-Cities. At once, the Federation's citizens felt the presence of a deity among them.

Moreover, there happened to be one lone assassin who had remained in a deep slumber until he felt faint sensations of a power greater than himself, power which rendered him immediately awake...

3

A Second Chance

-

Tavon

-

"Yo, you ready to get up now, fool?"

Huh?

"You get enough sleep with all that damn ruckus outside? None of it seemed to shake ya."

It sounds like some ignorant kid's talking. What happened... where am I?

"Hey, yo!"

"Shut up."

I open my eyes:

A kid with dirty braids, a tank top, joggers, and a knife held at the ready faces me—wait, a knife? Does this kid wanna kill me?

I get to my feet—

"Who are you?"

The kid's eyes widen a little.

"What? You don't know?"

In his other arm, he's holding a case that he swings in front of himself and opens. I see a grey kimono with pale embroidery showcasing small, foaming waves in neat patterns on the front. Black trimming lines its middle, and there's a black obi folded up next to the kimono. He says: "It's for you."

"For me? What are you talking about, kid? What's your name—is this... no. Did I... did I lose?"

He looks a bit bewildered now.

"You mean you don't remember gettin' yo ass busted up by the Grandmaster? Your lower lip's still bloody and everything! Man, have you seen yo face, though?" the kid leans in and tilts his head like he's making fun of me.

But what is he talking about? Along with a headache, I catch a brief glimpse—

Crazy pressure followed by darkness. He beat me so easily...

"Name's Raiko, boss. I'm supposed to be your 'Death Disciple' now according to the old guy at the top."

"Death Disciple?"

"Fool, how the hell am I s'posed to know what it means if you don't, huh? You're Tavon, right?"

"Yeah."

He arches one eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Who the hell else am I supposed to be, kid?"

"Sorry, sir, I was just expectin' somebody... uh, a little quicker, you feel me?"

"Wait—what did you say to me!"

"Congratulations, yo! Old man said you a 'Death Officer' now."

"For real?"

"Fuck you think, man? Old dude wants you to wear this shit, said it's a symbol of your 'status.'"

This has to be a dream.

"Even though I lost, he promoted me?"

"Don't think he really wanted to."

"Yeah right."

"It's true!"

I feel a mixture of relief and irritation—where did they get this brat from?

"Fine. Believe what you want, mister, but old dude said you were 'weak,' that I could learn from you because you're 'always an idiot.'"

"I bet he did."

"Then some other shit caught his attention. He looked real worried after the Association trembled a few times. Took off hasty, you know?"

"I don't. There was an earthquake?"

The Citadel's too heavy. Nothing could actually shake it—at least, it just doesn't seem possible.

"Look kid, explain to me what's going on."

"I think you're supposed to wear this first."

I knock the case out of his hands.

"I'm not putting that on. If I'm going to be a Death Officer, it'll be through my own terms. I earned this."

"Right. Whatever, man. Just don't be knockin' shit outta my grip like that again in the future. I wasn't ready."

"He assigned you to be my 'Death Disciple,' right? Why is that—why did he pick you?"

"Somethin' wrong with me?"

His attitude is both annoying and familiar. The way Raiko answers my questions reminds me of someone.

"Nah. I just wanna know why he picked you."

"Why do you think he promoted you?"

"Stop that."

I take a step toward him and scowl.

"Stop what?"

Raiko's defiant, almost too defiant, and Ayer Kei intended for him to be my student? Most importantly, am I allowed to hit students for being disrespectful? Nevermind that—

"If you're to be my Death Disciple, then that makes me your teacher."

"Yes, sir. If you fuck that up, it's your head."

What?

"Uh... what?"

"Yo 'Teach,' the Grandmaster passed down some orders he wanted me to repeat to you personally, aight? You think you can handle that?"

"Get on with it."

"Psh." Raiko smirks. "All right," he says. "I'm s'posed to help you kill four people."

"Okay. What else?"

Raiko nods, then he continues:

"The Grandmaster's gonna send us a bunch of targets, and he wants me to learn from you as we try to off 'em. Old man says I can jump rank to Death Officer if we do as asked."

"You're a kid. Are you really up to killing random strangers? Have you ever been to the World Below?"

Raiko hesitates, and, in this moment, I sense a hint of childishness in the way he behaves. His wit's sharp, but his inexperience is obvious.

"I killed some people before, yo. I know how it goes." he shrugs and looks away.

I smile.

"Do you? How many people have you murdered, Raiko?"

"Not murdered—"

"What else can you call it?"

"It's not fuckin' murder, yo! I was defending myself."

"Then you didn't really kill."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Murder is a willful action, kid. You might've protected yourself, but what do you know about stalking an unknown, someone who's done you no wrong?"

"Listen, mothafucker, it's all the same."

"Yeah."

My muscles tense on instinct, though I've no intentions of hurting him. "Until you have to think over your actions and how those actions have changed you. And they're never good changes. You think that you're on the road of reason, but your actions will always be biased in some way or another.

"Nevertheless, Ayer Kei is wrong for involving children in his affairs."

I need to make a choice quickly. I was aware of the Association having 'students,' but I didn't know that the old bastard chose them so early on in their lives. Though I might be able to help him, that would make me no better than organizations like Genod & Portis. I'd be helping the Grandmaster warp the mind of a kid...

No. I'll have him assign me someone else. Someone older.

"Sorry, Raiko,"—I look him in his eyes—"but I can't teach you anything. I'm going to have to suggest that you choose a better career path for yourself; mine ends in one of two ways."

-

Janelle

-

Though Tavon spoke these words to Raiko, his meaning was misinterpreted.

Rather than considering the dangers of traveling with Tavon, Raiko became offended. He felt that his new teacher had already rejected him, in the same way that he felt the world had. As had happened in his past, someone was determining his fate without a chance for him to prove himself. Bitterness swelled within young Raiko's heart. He eyed Tavon with fury, but he didn't speak another word. Instead, Raiko strode past him and resolved to discover another route in order to accomplish his desire; he was determined to demonstrate his true competence as an assassin.

Tavon and Raiko were utterly clueless as to just how much their lives would soon interconnect. Once a Death Officer was assigned a pupil, a bond was formed between parent and offspring. Ayer Kei's predictions of interpersonal partnerships had thus far been unparalleled; therefore, a mentor, matched to his ideal student, had encountered Raiko for the first time but certainly not the last.

4

Last Recollection

-

Janelle

-

"What made you take a second chance on me back then, T? Your heart go soft or somethin', or was it because the old man took another chance on you?"

"Would you have preferred it another way?"

"Like there was any other way—hah! You clownin'. I think you're just doing this because you feel like you owe someone."

"Yeah? And who do I 'owe,' kid?"

"Mendo."

"What? Mendo?"

Tavon froze. Raiko started to laugh but was compelled to a pause upon viewing the blankness of his mentor's expression. Tavon's personality seemed to have vacated his body. Shortly after recovering from this brief state of despondence, Tavon continued on to finish the tale of how he came to meet his new pupil.

By telling the rest of his story, Tavon allowed the truth in his heart to be exposed.

\--

PART TWO

The Father

\--
1

Cengiz Meiziki

\--

Tavon

\--

I've tried to put together a decent list in my head of all the mythologies I'm aware of by now, but there are too many stories, too many gods, and too many demons to keep track of in this world. As a kid I knew what monsters were supposed to be, but the only image I could ever bring to mind then was of Eze's pet, Anubis. Outside of popular movies and illustrations in digital books, I didn't think that myths could continue to exist in any form of obscurity, especially in a city like this.

I doubt that you've heard the story of the White Boar. In that time, it was generally believed that some common thug had been cursed, that he'd carried something deadly inside of him. Before the reign of the Meiziki, there was the Odoya Clan: regular samurai who'd subsisted off the trash of others. They'd stockpiled weapons left over from the Citadel's past civil wars, which allowed them to play the game of mob warfare with almost total supremacy.

It's said that one man destroyed them. That, before the Odoya could continue expand much further, the successor to the clan's head offended a lower-ranking member. This footsoldier asked one of his comrades to build a simple shrine from polished stones outside of the heir's manor and to create a hollow opening that would allow enough room for a special candle to burn.

His companion did as he was told.

That same night, the heir to the Odoya Clan disappeared; the only witnesses claimed that they'd witnessed a huge, tusked boar devour what was left of their future boss.

Stories like this spread fast. Not only that, but the number of deaths within the Odoya family itself increased until, finally, there was just Geno Odoya remaining to defend the clan's legacy.

Geno got usurped about a year after both his wife and son vanished. They say his own men turned on him, and it's because rumors gave life to an unbelievable nightmare. The Odoya Clan was erased from existence from a terror no one could kill or even track once it had claimed its prey. After the fall of the Odoya, Cengiz Meiziki took control of their men—with the help of both his stalwart reputation and a private circle of soldiers—and established himself as king. Because of his rapid rise to power, each one of the Meiziki Clan's neighboring rivals eventually came to declare war on his growing dictatorship.

But Cengiz held his own against them, surviving as both the Nagao and the Uesugi were crushed beneath his feet.

Cengiz was the nightmare, the White Boar. We called him the Father.

2

Repercussions

\--

Tavon

\--

At first, Mendo was in critical condition. He stabilized, then he passed over into a coma.

Abul was considered dead by everyone but Second Seneschal Ududa. She'd insisted on keeping his body for observation at the Pale Citadel's Clinic, over which she herself presided.

The Pale Citadel was a series of platinum skyscrapers named closely after the creature everyone feared. Each tower was linked to one another by steel tunnels, and, though they looked pretty narrow, the dozen or so of them contained about eighty stories individually. The center tower—also the tallest—consisted of exactly a hundred, and squads of weaponized cruisers surrounded the highest floor.

I didn't know his name or much about him then... back when they'd brought me into the carpeted lobby right outside of his personal chambers.

Jigen, the Fifth Seneschal, wanted to kill me so badly that the others had to force him to make an early departure. By the time we'd made it into the heart of Meiziki territory on our way back from the battle against Enok, Labou announced that he would take care of delivering an official report to the Father. This, of course, was expected considering that he was the only one who'd seen the boss regularly within the last two years.

I was left alone with the Fourth Seneschal, but he was a lot nicer than the others; he was polite, at least.

"Master Tavon, is it?"

"Master?" I'd never heard someone address me this way before.

"Hmph." Labou turned up his nose at me and walked ahead without saying anything else.

I was still wounded from the earlier fight, but Ududa had administered some kind of sedative to keep me somewhat level-headed. After all, I was the sole survivor of a catastrophe. When the Father requested the truth, he demanded every detail. Ududa was probably just trying to help me out.

I stared absentmindedly at the back of Labou's tuxedo, quickly trying to think of the right questions to ask before it was too late—

Labou put a halt to any further thoughts by stopping me with one hand:

"Please have a seat on the barstool over there. By the window, Master Tavon."

Suddenly, classical jazz played faintly from speakers lined along the walls. The lobby was really a bar, with a shining, mahogany countertop backed by bottles of imported alcohol numbering in the hundreds.

Labou headed off without another word through a door disguised as a black panel, leaving me to consider everything that'd happened. I didn't know these people; they didn't know me. The destruction left behind from the fight with Enok meant that any merit I'd shown previously couldn't be measured. If I'd wanted to bring honor to my name, I would've done enough to save at least one of them.

But... no. They both fell in battle, and I was the only one left alive because I hadn't been good enough to do more on my part. I thought that made my actions dishonorable, so I fully expected them to condemn me. I thought I'd failed.

\--

Fourth Seneschal Labou stumbled out so roughly that I jumped from my seat.

I was speechless...

One of his eyes had been beaten shut. There was dried blood around his lips. Labou clutched at his stomach while steadily walking closer in order to address me again:

"Master Tavon..."

"Y-Yes?"

He studied me for a second, then he said, "Unfortunately, Father was not pleased with my decision to bring you on my own. It would appear that he sorely missed the other Seneschals, thus I'm afraid I must apologize."

Labou bowed. His kindness was so out of place that I never knew exactly how to respond.

"Master Tavon, despite my persistence..."

—He looked into my eyes—

"I couldn't protect you."

\--

I was looking at a minimalistic depiction of Lord Ganesha on a tapestry which hung down in the space between a wall populated solely by liquor bottles. In a place like this, the image didn't really make sense to me. The Meiziki Clan had no use for what Ganesha represents: love. After all, Cengiz had made that perfectly clear when he'd usurped his master.

The lights went out.

A cold breeze flowed through the room, but I kept still while keeping my eyes fixed ahead. I knew that the room was getting darker, that another force was influencing the area around me... to intimidate me...

And it was working.

Cold darkness covered me to the point where I couldn't make out my surroundings. A cold chill ran down my spine; still, I kept my head down. I didn't know what moves to make in a situation like this.

I heard the sound of something being scooted off the shelves; glass clinked against glass; liquid poured for a couple of seconds then stopped.

He came to stand across from me: the Father, with shadows all around.

It was rare for anyone to make face-to-face contact with the boss, and, in that moment, I understood why. I was too young to have an appropriate reaction.

I was repulsed. It was disgusting, Raiko. No one was ever meant to see the Father for a reason, and it's because he was horrible disfigured. He was disfigured beyond any kind of sickness the body could come up with on its own or experience naturally. What looked like a deadly case of cancer having spread and gestated was just the continuation of a black scar with a life of its own.

It was the bubbled fat that shocked me, like a dark wad of decaying flesh which ran diagonally across his face and wouldn't stop leaking black shit that made me want to puke.

The Father downed a shot, then he poured himself another.

Without so much as a word, he eyed me while finishing three more and didn't stop to gag or so much as cringe. I later found out that his choice of drink was absinthe.

We stared each other down while I tried to recall how I felt confronting Enok. I sensed something different here, something off, but I couldn't exactly place what it was at the time. Had I then, everything might've gone differently...

"You're a bit young for upper management," he said, then he winked and added in a wan smile.

The black ooze thinned out enough to leave behind a deep, black scar which still dripped with it. He had the body of a short, pudgy man whose receding hairline was just as afraid of the mark as I was. He wore a blood-red blazer around a pink shirt, unbuttoned at the top, but neither hid a gut that took up most of his body. If not for that damn scar, he'd look like any other Citadel businessman.

The Father took yet another shot, then he asked me some questions:

"Why would a kid like you bother getting involved in the criminal underworld?"

"I'm old enough."

"How old?"

"Close to nineteen now."

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded.

"And so you handled the Uesugi without a problem, right?"

"No. Mendo and Abul, they—"

"You handled them," he winked again, "and saved the day. Out of everyone I sent to extinguish that goddamned menace, you're the only one left alive and conscious. Do you know what that means, sir?"

Politeness. From someone like him...

He didn't wait for me to respond, "It means that you were the only one competent enough to vanquish the last enemy. You're the last real man alive even though you're just a kid!

"It's like the best talent shows itself younger and younger every year. Do you understand the significance of Mendo's actions against the Uesugi Clan? Actions that I—excuse me," he burped, "that I exclusively did not permit."

"I-I'm not sure—"

"Of course not!" He banged his fist on the table, then he took another shot.

The drunker he became, the more the scar shrunk.

"A boy cannot truly understand the Way of the Wise, now can he? Tavon, Mendo's actions have had grim repercussions. Grim repercussions, indeed, for the Meiziki Clan and for the whole of the Fourth Quadrant.

"The Ministry of Beautification wishes to persuade the Democratic Council of its imminent need for a subpoena against the whole Quadrant. I believe that they'll be granted permission to investigate, Tavon. Soon, the flourishing government above us will seek to take back even the undesirable parts of its former territory.

"Notwithstanding, the unexplained disappearances of several officers during the 'Uesugi Incident' has the Dawn Federation's media on full alert. Our way of life here is no longer as stable as it once was. Rather than equaling the power of the Major himself, the Meiziki Clan is at risk of being recognized across the government as a criminal organization. If this scenario arises, the result will likely be an unavoidable massacre. For both sides."

"A massacre?"

"So you are listening."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Good." He chuckled. "I like you, kid, and I think you've got the type of mindset necessary to function as necessary proponent of what we're doing here. To answer your question: yes, there will be bloodshed within the coming future. My dreams warn me of possible outcomes, you know. Regardless of what happens, Tavon,"—he sneered, and the image of fangs shined as the face of a foul beast glowed behind his head—"my intellect has guided me to select the most talented individuals to lead the next generation.

"Tavon, with Mendo having fallen, First Seneschal Modagi no longer has a second student. This... this is a problem," he slurs, "b-because each Seneschal has been ordered to train their students in pairs. Once these pairs have been e-evaluated, those worthy will be recognized as the elite.

"You'll take Mendo's spot, kid, and, by the time you turn twenty, I expect you to have earned the right to be called the 'Six Seneschal!'"

3

The First Seneschal

\--

Tavon

\--

Shudokauma is the name of the most basic of body mandalas studied by practitioners of Jeigon. The mandalas used by men like First Seneschal Modagi were geometric wonders, networks of patterns within patterns that formed millions of sacred images pertaining to enlightenment.

Three days after I'd been assigned to Modagi, he'd ordered me to draw the Shudokauma until he returned. He handed me a perfectly drawn copy of it on a sheet of paper. For three days, he didn't allow me to eat or drink; instead, while my broken right arm rested in a webbed cast made from Ududa, I was locked in a room within one of the southeast towers. Here, all I could think about was the meaning of the Shudokauma:

One hundred bodhisattvas traveled from east to west. At its far right, the mandala depicted dragons entangled by their own snake-like bodies, bodies which turned into smoke, then...

What I'd seen before changed somehow. In viewing such complicated tracings from any other perspective, no matter how slight, more possibilities emerged.

After three days, the First Seneschal's goal had been for me to see just one image in the Shudokauma.

He'd wanted me to visualize what was supposed to be a physical body, with all its labeled muscles, nerves, and bones too. In comprehending an accurate representation of my body, I would begin to see what were unusual paths of light extending from around the physical form of the human in the Shudokauma. New nerve endings sprouted, spreading out from the natural body and illuminating a hidden truth I needed to understand.

This was meant to be the easiest lesson.

As I meditated, Modagi broke the silence: "Plyometrics is the art of generating the right reflexes at the right moment, the right strength at the right time—"

He punched me in the face.

Modagi broke my nose on contact, shocking me out of my trance as I totally forgot about the Shudokauma. Now he stood at the ready and with his wooden cane held horizontally before my eyes.

"My boy, the Modagi Style is marked, so much more than anything else, by the ability to evade your enemy's moves effectively. Neither speed nor strength will carry you every time; rather, you must stay vigilant, anticipating the various tricks your opponent might attempt. That is how you stay alive."

If it was going to be a real fight, I'd need to make the next move.

I started getting into stance but broke into a sprint instead which caught the old man off guard. He'd probably expected my willpower to have weakened after he'd starved me for so long.

Still, I wasn't nearly fast enough; Modagi thrusted the point of his cane into my solar plexus—

"Wait!" he cried as I fell to my knees. "Focus again on the Shudokauma, for you have lost your original focus.

"Without a clear yet fixed state of mind, there is no point to this method of training. Stand straight, bringing in your arms at both sides, and slow your breathing. Earlier, when you were lost within the depths of your ruminations, I saw what looked like the flow of your spirit quite close to Si'Aum, close to true Awakening."

"Seriously?"

I opened my eyes, breaking my train of thought. His right fist knocked me off my feet.

As I got to my knees, he scowled and sighed bitterly, and I soon realized that he had a lot of reasons to hate me.

"Are you truly so incompetent in every task that you attempt? Si'Aum has evaded you because of your negligence as a student!"

"It's only been three days!"

He grunted, "No excuses. No more talking—in fact, one more word and I'll bash your face in, make you uglier. If you wish to measure within an inch of Mendo's fortitude, you'll solidify your style of meditation. Everyone's style is a little different, which is exactly why successful fighters establish their reputations by embracing unique methods of combat. Once these methods achieve a certain level of popularity, a particular style's reverence often outgrows the true ability of its creator."

Modagi sat in a cross-legged position, then he held his cane out with one hand while running his other over its point.

"Maia, the Spectrum of Creation, is the very reason I have a cane to begin with—"

Specks of dark light flew from around the far end of the cane.

"When I choose to create, everything depends on both my past training as well as my overall competence; as a result, I can change the nature of an object to something more familiar..."

Modagi traced his index finger along wood that splinted and merged. His hand passed over the body of his cane; half of it transformed into a slender blade.

He stood, taking the sword in both hands while also breaking my concentration for the third time. Instead of scolding me, Modagi charged! I thought that I'd fucked up for real, and so I reacted on impulse:

I threw a punch—a punch—in the direction of the oncoming blade, and then...

The master gave his lesson.

He'd swung, but his body hadn't followed the motion. With expert precision, the First Seneschal remained at a distance as he threw his blade in a way that would cause it to slash down once it met its target. I was finished, but I'd known that from the start.

I broke Modagi's sword in two with one strike, that stupid punch I'd thrown on reflex, and that stunned me so much that I didn't notice as he produced a violet light leveled at his navel.

"According to the Way of Sidogush, spoken word is a sacred thing. It is, after all, how humans communicate with their gods. From this tradition, sutras emerged..."

Before he could say anything else, his energy had condensed into a violet glock that he aimed at my head. Modagi's body shook; the veins in his arm popped while he struggled to control a gun made from his spirit.

"From the sutras, followers learned how to chant. From aum, the Awakened experienced Si'Aum, and so, when we lowly humans precariously train our life force beyond its natural limitations, we chant in hopes of containing what the higher realms have to offer!"

—MAIA: SPECTRAL AMMUNITION—

Small ruby spheres whirled above the First Seneschal's head. One soared through his gun, imploded from within it, and then was released after it had grown to an even greater size. I couldn't move quickly enough to stop it, and a bullet made from Modagi's zol rammed hard into my left side. I felt ribs break as I stumbled over. I thought I'd have the strength to go on, but I fell to my knees as the pain spasmed near my gut. All it took was a bullet for Modagi to defeat me, and he'd used his initial throw to distract me from focusing on strategies of my own.

The light around him faded, and the old Seneschal groaned.

"What a waste of breath. I'd thought that someone so skilled in hand-to-hand combat would be tough enough to stand taking a few more."

"You shot me!"

"Nonsense, boy. Had it been a real gun, with real bullets, you'd be dead; I aimed for your heart. Ironically, the wooden cane I normally use happens to be the strongest weapon that I'm capable of creating.

"Whereas I might make a sword which can cut, my personal limitations prevent me from creating anything closer to the real thing. Therefore, a sword which may easily cut is also one that easily breaks against the faintest resistance. My way of fighting is attuned to the changing nature of combat."

He'd still battered me in one hit.

"Ugh," he sighed. "I suppose that it'd be best to use your current weakness as an excuse to go ahead and properly introduce you to Madame Ududa, the Lower-City's best physician. But don't let her manners fool you, boy, Ududa is a lecherous spider. Those who follow her are the same."
4

The Second Seneschal

\--

Tavon

\--

On my way to the clinic of the Pale Citadel, Modagi departed while leaving me in the charge of an enforcer who went by "Setiawan" and who helped support me on the walk to the Second Seneschal's personal tower.

Below both Mendo and Modagi's second pupil, whom I hadn't yet met, there were a series of enforcers still vying to be considered for "adoption" by one of the big five. Modagi hadn't bothered warning me of the envy I'd face.

"You're the one who brought in that giant cruiser, right? Tavon? From the Nagao Clan?"

"Not anymore."

"Right," he laughed, "it doesn't surprise me that they promoted you so fast."

Setiawan paused to look me over. He was a big guy, though most of his weight seemed to be in his lower body. Dude's forearms were huge, although the rest of his arms shrunk above his elbows. Setiawan rocked a buzzcut and had asked for the symbol of the Meiziki Clan, a Bengal tiger, to be tattooed below his right eye to show off his eternal pride.

Regardless of the tattoo, he didn't look like your typical banger, though he most definitely spoke like one:

"Some of the lower-rankin' guys be talkin, man. They said you was real decent with your hands, said you don't use anything else. Did you steal that cruiser with just your hands, too?"

"Not exactly." I try to be respectful because he's most likely packing behind crimson, lightweight body armor. "Mendo and Abul were better than me."

"Who's Abul?"

"Nevermind."

"Wait a minute, you said that Mendo can beat you?"

"Yeah, of cour—"

"Hey."

Setiawan walked faster so that he could stand in front of me and glare.

"Don't go around admitting that. If anyone asks, Mendo ain't shit compared to you. You got that, playa?"

"I guess, but why should I lie to people?"

He stared at me for a moment.

"Why your eyes like that?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know." He scratched his chin, then he shook my hand. "You seem all right, brother. Not too bigheaded, though you should be a little bit if you wanna survive 'round here. I didn't think you'd be so young. It shows.

"Listen: don't express weakness around these people. If they sniff that shit out, you'll have them coming for your throat. You got me?"

"Yeah. I understand."

I couldn't let myself forget that the Meiziki were a gang that operated by chaotic rules of its own. I wasn't much of a talker, but they would expect me to make myself heard when the time came.

"What do you know about Modagi?" I asked Setiawan as we entered a spacious room with light blue tiles and only an elevator at the end of it.

"Shit, I was expecting you to tell me, man. Do you know how many Enforcers wish they could have him as a tutor? He's the best one, Tavon."

"Really? He's kinda old—"

"He beat the shit outta you."

"Right."

As we stepped into the gleaming silver elevator, Setiawan told me what little he knew:

"Old Man Modagi trained the other Seneschals personally, and he only trains new people every few years. The group before Mendo and Samazoshi both wound up dead before they'd gotten a chance to move up. Sometimes the Father'll decide that somebody's unworthy; if that happens, that somebody's gotta go."

"How old is Samazoshi?"

"Nineteen."

"He's like me?"

Gravity pressed down while the elevator brought us to the highest available level: the fortieth floor. Beyond that, Ududa had requested that further access be limited for privacy reasons.

"I wouldn't say that," Setiawan chuckled. "Nah, man, you two are nothing alike. If the way you be speakin' to me is the same way you're gonna come at others, then I don't think you guys will get along. I'd suggest stayin' outta that mothafucker's way."

"Hmm."

I didn't like the sound of that. To be considered inferior to someone I hadn't even met...

"Don't take it too personally, T. In due time, brother, I think you'll start showin' the other pupils up."

"There are other pupils?"

"Damn right! Yeah... but I was gonna base my game plan for success at life off yours!"

"I don't have a game plan," I told him as we came to a stop.

I moved outside of the elevator doors, but Setiawan didn't follow. When I glanced back, he nodded at me and said, "I'm sure you'll work one out, boss. When you do, you let me know how you got this far, all right?"

He winked. The elevator panels closed, leaving me alone in a long, dimly lit hallway lined with hundreds of stretchers. I casted a look over what looked like a legion of human bodies that were bound to flat beds by grey webbing. At each of their sides, I saw hanging IV bags next to large, taped groups of cords which all met in the center, where I spotted a terminal. This terminal was manned by someone who seemed just a little older than me, but he wasn't dressed like anyone else I'd seen for a very long time.

He wore a lab coat, parted his hair with a comb, and steadied a pair of glasses that was too big for him on his nose. Rather than take notice of my approach, though I know the guy heard me, he acted real obsessed with a wide, green monitor sprawled across the surface in front of him. With a simple hand movement, he could summon the holograms of twenty individuals at a time; next to every hologram was a screen displaying a different metal drone shaped in the likeness of a beetle. Behind him, I saw glass containers occupied with an army of metallic bugs.

"You're limping. Are you hurt?"

He looked up, but the glint produced by the fluorescent lights beaming against his glasses obscured any real human expression.

"The First Seneschal has a unique teaching style, sir."

"'Sir?' I'm no one important," he remarked flatly. "Just a pupil like yourself—you are a pupil, right? That's why you've got on red body armor. It should be light, but it looks..."

"Yeah, it's heavier than usual. Modagi said it'd suit my training better."

"Oh?" he rested one finger on his lip, "Is Shungej your natural way then?"

"Shun—what?"

"Hmph."

He crossed his arms.

"Well, sir, my name is Shikami. What do you call yourself?"

"Tavon. Nice to meet you, Shikami." I bowed.

"Why don't you come with me and have a look inside our upcoming operation," Shikami picked up one of the glass cases and laid it open before me as I moved closer.

Tiny, inanimate drones remained in place. He kept staring at me, waiting for my initial response.

"This is where they ended up..."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just remember hearing about a shipment of these things."

"You heard correctly, but I'm curious as to how you managed to obtain that knowledge?"

"The First Seneschal."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

I tried to stare him down, but his face was full of honest contempt that rattled me.

"Why would you lie about something like that, I wonder? Tavon, can you tell me what these things are for?"

"They've gotta be related to all the bodies you've stacked up. The Meiziki abducted these people, right? You've helped keep them alive, which means you didn't try one of those bugs out yet."

"Incorrect. They have been tested, but the shadow of suspicion has fallen over us. Therefore, I cannot deploy these subjects the way the Father intends."

"What does he intend?"

"I thought you knew."

"Shikami."

"Ah, well..." He smirked. "There's no point in hiding anything from you. I, after all, am a doctor, and doctors cannot lie. It's imperative that they don't."

"You're a doctor?" I exclaimed. "No way—you're too young. There's no way you could even pass for a thug!"

"And I've never been a thug, you dimwitted fo—ahem! I was recruited from a clinic in the Second Quadrant."

"An illegal clinic?"

"Call it what you may," he said. "My father trained me to help people in the same manner he did. I've studied his notes and read the medical textbooks he left behind—not mention that, within the virtual world, he'd a whole cache of data saved which provided further instructions and real examples of how to administer emergency medicine!"

"But it was illegal."

"You! Why—hmph! You've no idea of the importance medicine has to common citizens."

"Why would a doctor be handling nanobots that create drug addictions?"

"It's not as if their lives were any better off. These 'bugs,' properly termed sartre-roms, will provide them with the only happiness they could've ever hoped to feel while struggling under impoverished conditions."

"I struggled under 'impoverished conditions.'"

"Yes, as did most of the thugs of your caliber."

"Shikami! That was VERY disrespectful!"

From behind the young doctor, Ududa had silently emerged from the shadows leading into a great winding staircase. When the light touched her, I saw that her skin looked more mottled than last time. She hunched over so much that her face was barely visible, but the shape of her body was strange somehow. If she were to have stood at full height, I think she'd have probably measured about eight feet tall; her torso was wide but concealed by a dirty, web-covered cloak.

Shikami kneeled before her.

"Madame, I apologize for my belligerent attitude."

"As you should!" she croaked, "Tavon is a pupil of Seneschal Modagi, and so we should treat him as an honored guest, for the First Seneschal came before us all."

"Yes, Madame."

"Don't be so embarrassed, Shikami."

She pointed with one decrepit finger and said, "Your peer, Osotone, appears to have whetted her appetite too soon as well."

Behind me, there was someone at about my height and completely wrapped in a white cast. Her face was covered, but she seemed aware of everything around her as she waited to observe my reaction.

"Osotone!" Ududa yelled.

Osotone took one step closer, then the old woman moved:

She shot strings that thickened when joining with each other around Osotone's body. The mummified girl shook, struggling to free her arms, but she refused to make a sound.

Shikami went to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. His attitude was more serious now.

"Sister, he's not your enemy. Don't let your anger get the best of you or it will hurt again."

Her head was fixed his way as she listened intently to his words. Even so, she didn't respond and just froze in place while Shikami solemnly rejoined us.

"There are two types of victims when it comes to overexposure of zol," she said. "Those afflicted with body malformities, such as me, and those whose minds are addled; Osotone fits into the latter category, of course, but she's still of great value, just like any other pupil."

"I've been doing my best to research zol," Shikami looked at me with determination burning in his eyes. "In working for the Meiziki Clan, I'm allowed to pay full attention to the main assignment handed down to me by the Second Seneschal."

"What's that?"

He adjusted his glasses and said, "To provide a scientific explanation as to how the feats of the Awakened are possible. If I can come up with a thesis I'm confident in, I'll be a step closer to helping my sister. Because I'm not like you, not Awakened, I've been useless to her, and I'm sick of it."

"Now, now, Shikami, let's not get ahead of ourselves—can't you see that the boy is injured? Look at how he leans, supporting one side.

"Boy, take off your shirt!"

"Wait—I-I don't know if—"

"I think that we'd be better served moving this examination to a more appropriate place, don't you think, Madame?"

Shikami was there to save me from the spotlight.

\--

Ududa's private quarters were laced by a webbed barrier that was meant to cushion the blow of an outside attack. Using what I'd guessed was Maia, she'd created furniture as well as a hammock by solidifying thousands of web strands over time; one of her creations included a patient's cot. It felt weird lying on a bed made from webbing, but the Second Seneschal's friendly bedside manner distracted me from thinking too much about how it felt beneath me. Shikami had accompanied her, and we'd left behind Osotone since she preferred to be alone most days.

I took off my body armor to see where I'd been injured for the first time: what I'd thought was a small bruise turned out to be a red and black stain that took up most of my torso.

"My," Ududa muttered in bewilderment, "to think that you're still standing after a wound like this. I've never seen the First Seneschal harm one of his students in this way, but I do recall his fondness for Mendo. It's not fair for him to blame you, yet now I see why he sent you to me."

"I didn't realize that he was still mad."

"He broke your ribs, dear. Now let's have a look at your arm."

Upon mentioning after such a long time, I'd gotten more forgetful about another major injury. In trying to fight against Enok, I'd overdone it, but what was once agonizing pain had gone numb over time. Ududa had wrapped layer upon layer of her specialized webbing to form a compressed splint, the same webbing which encased a body not so far away from me.

She wanted me to stay there with them.

"Tavon Meiziki, as one of the commanding Seneschals, I've full authority over you. You are my guest, dear; therefore, I'm your host until Modagi comes to retrieve you.

"Your recent wound is quite severe, though your zol output extends out of you in greater and greater amounts as we speak."

"What! But how?"

How could she sense what I couldn't?

"You climb close to Si'Aum, I see, but you are not ready."

"She's quite correct," interjected Shikami, "as further persistence with this said 'output' could produce unfavorable results. Tavon, as an apprenticing doctor, I recommend that you rest. First Seneschal Modagi was not so kind to you."

"The body in the corner," I ignored everything they said and continued, "is that Abul?"

Just as I'd ignored them, they tried to ignore me.

"Boy," Ududa started, "your body will become like my own if you persist."

"Abul was my friend."

"Impossible," said Shikami, "there's no reason a demon would befriend a human of its own volition."

"Why do you think that? Abul wanted to protect me."

They stole a quick glance at one another, then Shikami played the part of the educator:

"Tavon, of the demon races we've examined, most exhibit the same trait: reduced amygdala size as well as a general lack of empathy with regard to human beings. If Abul practiced any learned kindness—"

"He didn't practice," I almost growled.

Pain and anger so easily bolster each other.

"I told you: Abul was my friend."

\--

I don't remember anything after that. I tried to argue with Shikami because he hadn't seen what I had. I wasn't fair for him to generalize in the way he did, but we'd lived in two different worlds.

To be honest, I got lucky. My body shut itself down before my mind really understood. If I hadn't passed out in that moment, my own zol might've destroyed me.

I woke about two days later, Shikami monitoring my vitals with an expectant look. He didn't show any surprise once my eyes met his, but my body convulsed right before I was covered with a sheen of sweat. I was both uncomfortable and exhausted. The pain was worse.

Shikami strode over to my side while studying a glass vial that contained a colorless liquid.

"At all times, friend, I've vowed to do no harm. Not to anyone...

"It surprised me to see a footsoldier express so much sympathy, so maybe I'm getting more involved than I should."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Tavon," his eyes met mine for the second time, "I'm interested in helping you, as you're the only pupil I've met who doesn't appear so much like the others. You weren't born for violence."

No one's born for violence.

My last thought carried me away...

\--

Shikami put me to sleep for four more days. On the fourth day, it was the Second Seneschal who'd startled me awake.

"Oh!" I heard Ududa exclaim.

"What is it, Madame? What do you see?"

I was able to sit up. I felt mild nausea, but their rapt attention kept me from feeling much else.

"His zol flourishes into tau petals, flourishes so much even though he's just opened his eyes. Tell me, boy, can your feel your right arm now?"

"I..."

I could. Not only that, but she'd removed the cast altogether; my arm looked normal—maybe a little more veiny, but still.

"I see. And your side?"

There was a slight ache, but I could move comfortably. My body actually felt renewed. At the same time, I experienced something else: grief.

I felt the accumulated grief of everything that had happened to me, then tears fell from my eyes.

Shikami stepped back; Ududa gasped, looking appalled.

"Poor dear," she said, "you've held much inside, haven't you?"

It was embarrassing, especially in front of Shikami, who turned serious. "I told you, Madame," he said, "this one's not like the others. It's okay to speak freely with—"

"Shikami!" Ududa shrieked while holding a finger to her lips. "All matters related to training are private. If you disclose these matters, you will receive the maximum penalty. Don't forget."

"Yes, Madame."

One memory lingered in my mind:

"Were you able to help Abul?"

Shikami frowned as Ududa remained expressionless.

"How are you feeling, boy? Do you believe that you are fully healed?"

I did. I could stand on my own two feet without experiencing too much stiffness. It was as if I'd never been injured in the first place.

"How were you able to...?"

"Ah, now this is a lesson which I do not mind disclosing. This is also the reason why I'm the greatest healer in all of the Lower-City, with Shikami himself not so far behind.

"Pupil Tavon," she said, "my strands thin out once attached to a membrane. They shrivel, then they burrow; they burrow, then they seek out sources of inflammation within your body.

"With this method, I give away some of my zol to fuse with yours. Normally, there is a small amount which can be offered at the risk of a potential overdose, and overdoses, as you've seen, have had disastrous results. Tavon, your spirit edges near to Si'Aum, you've a step left, but you must be sure not to lose focus. In the end, you will be in control of how your personal Awakening proceeds."

"It's a process I've been studying known as 'daoithermia' within standardized medical terminology. I've some journals I could show you that report on findings from around the wo—"

"Shikami!" As always, Ududa felt the need to keep her student quiet. "I've disallowed you from speaking any further about private information!"

"This information has been widely published, met with critical acc—"

"Shut up, moron!" Ududa barked while shooting a webbed glob to smack against Shikami's glasses and knock them off his face.

"Second Seneschal Ududa."

Ududa reacted by bowing as she jerked her pupil's sleeve in order to render him to attention. I wanted to know more about Abul's condition, but First Seneschal Modagi had arrived to reclaim me.
5

The Third Seneschal

\--

Tavon

\--

"It seems you're brimming with energy," Modagi remarked.

I wasn't sure of the proper response, not when I knew that he'd nearly crippled me. I was bitter, so I stayed silent as he escorted me to the tower of the Third Seneschal, Mr. Sensitive.

"Regardless, it would appear that your previous training has not quite sunk in, has it? You're just as lost as before, with no way ahead but forward.

"The Third Seneschal's tower is the greatest place in all of the Citadel to hone one's abilities. It consists of gymnasium stacked atop gymnasium, each floor dedicated to a different aspect of physical growth. It is here that so many of our footsoldiers train daily, but you skipped rank a bit, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Before you could ever hope to be a part of this family, before you could ever hope to match my level of talent, you must relearn the basics. Mind must be trained with body; thus, I'll be handing your future over to Mr. Sensitive.

"May Lord Isolakandi be with you."

\--

No one knew the Third Seneschal's real name. "Mr. Sensitive" had been used since he'd been a footsoldier—not to mention a footsoldier who'd organically risen through the ranks based on his own merit. Mr. Sensitive had been trained by Modagi and made the Third Seneschal four years ago. Ever since then, he'd become feared. He was believed to be unflinchingly ruthless, having beaten to death countless rivals and traitors to the Meiziki Clan. Mr. Sensitive was rumored to have been the Father's "favourite," although the Father didn't believe him smart enough to occupy Labou's position. It was through the Third Seneschal that I received my tattoo.

\--

There was Ganymedes, who always wore the heaviest body armor available to the Clan: a red mass of plates strung together and overshadowing a hulking, rotund body.

Through and through, Ganymedes was a heavyweight fighter. He favored using a large iron club as his primary weapon, and, because of his constant studying of Maia, it's said that he'd created the same weapon he currently used at ten years old, strengthening it every year. At eighteen, it was still intact and imbued with his spirit. Ganymedes was an immovable giant, who confidently stood his ground against a much smaller opponent.

Her name was Thokozani. She went by "Thoko," and I remember her being beautiful. Thoko's hair was blond and with white stripes that she hid by tying it all back into a long ponytail. Thoko was nowhere near as big as Ganymedes. Instead, she was about three feet shorter and more lean than skinny. Thoko swung at Ganymedes, he evaded by lurching back, and her metal bat thudded against the marble surface of the tenth floor.

Mr. Sensitive never went above the eleventh floor, which was reserved as his private quarters and therefore forbidden to anyone else. Every other floor above the eleventh was used as a garrison for ordinary footsoldiers, all of whom honored the Third Seneschal by sparring against one another in between light and heavy weight training sessions.

The tenth floor respectively was supposed to be Mr. Sensitive's idea of a "beginning stage" for his private students. From there on down, consecutive floors were considered advancing stages of physical prowess. But, before both Thoko and Ganymedes could even begin to commence their training, they'd been ordered to duel each other after weeks of preparation. To be worthy of the Third Seneschal's attention, you needed to show that you had the endurance necessary for sustained combat.

Despite the size of her enemy, Thoko staggered her stance in preparation for battle. There was only one rule: that whoever landed the first strike was the decided victor. The winner would get to keep that title up until what would be final duel between them again if they reached the first floor.

Ganymedes held his club at the ready. He faced Thoko squarely and without so much as fidgeting. Whereas Ganymedes loomed as a red statue, Thoko maintained her distance and sought out any possible openings.

Observing from one of five weight benches, Mr. Sensitive interlaced his fingers, hunching over in anticipation. I was at his side, Modagi having departed just as soon as he'd dropped me off; Ududa was right: the First Seneschal wanted nothing to do with me.

Thoko chose a new strategy once she'd realized that the giant fighter wouldn't react to any feints she might try. Thoko decided to stare at him directly, and she glared with rage which dominated her state of being.

"Hmph." This grunt was his sole response.

Thoko lunged at Ganymedes, swinging low with speed I could barely perceive—

Ganymedes swung down, diagonally, and his blow connected with the center of Thoko's bat:

Metal rang out—her weapon recoiled, struck her forehead, and the giant's club halted right before dashing her skull in. Thoko gasped while clutching her right wrist. It'd been immediately crushed on contact, and she cried out while backing away from Ganymedes.

Mr. Sensitive stood.

When I thought he was going to punish Ganymedes for using his full strength, the Third Seneschal exposed his darker side.

"Finish her off." He crossed his arms, snorted, and said, "It was a stupid move. Punish her."

Ganymedes hesitated.

"Go ahead. What are you waiting for?" Mr. Sensitive barked at his student.

Thoko forced herself to forget the pain. She trembled, picking up her bat with her good hand just as Ganymedes hefted his club over his head. I was nervous—I wanted to intervene, but Mr. Sensitive's presence dissuaded me.

"She'll keep attacking until she's won, Ganymedes. It's you or her—make a choice!"

Thoko rushed him with greater tenacity, tensing her one arm for the perfect swing. She made a suicidal charge and shrieked as she swung upward, aiming for his head.

Ganymedes turned slightly; he let his left arm absorb the hit and remained in place while Thoko retreated in shock.

"GANYMEDES," Mr. Sensitive's voice boomed, "what are you doing? Are you stupid?"

Ganymedes showed the palm of his hand in a bold gesture of "silence" his teacher.

"I cannot kill Thokozani."

"Why not." Mr. Sensitive strode toward them while clenching his fists.

Thoko was visible offended. She gripped the handle of her bat tightly shouting, "Idiot! If you'd take off that damn armor, I'd bury you!"

"Ganymedes!" Mr. Sensitive, who was nearly as tall as his giant of a student, tilted his head up slightly when confronting him. "Why did you disobey me?"

"Master..."

Ganymedes fell to his knees. He prostrated himself before the Third Seneschal.

"I spared Thokozani because, out of everyone I've been ordered to execute, she is the only one who's ever had the courage to meet my strike head on.

"Master," he proclaimed, "Thokozani's attack was strong! I respect her too much to end her life, and I ask that you give her a second chance. If you must end someone's life, then end mine, for I have no interest in training without her."

"Uh huh." Mr. Sensitive nodded and then seriously considered the words of his student. "Thokozani's wrist is broken, but you still think it's wise to train her?"

"I do, Master."

Mr. Sensitive turned his back to him, walked away, and then paused. Sometimes, the Third Seneschal could leave us hanging for awkwardly long periods of time before he'd speak; in this instance, he said the truth:

"Thoko, you were rash. Do you understand the implications of rash actions taken while within the Meiziki Clan?"

"Yes, sir!" she replied.

"Making stupid decisions is what got both of your predecessors killed. My last students, a great duo actually, got too bold after reaching the second floor. Gaomao and Sunling were both killed by regular footsoldiers who were never found out. I'm still looking for the shitheads who did it.

"This message is for all of you," Mr. Sensitive spread his stance and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke:

"Everyone below you wants to be where you are right now. They'll do anything to have what you have—even if it means pissing us off by killing our students." Mr. Sensitive clenched his fists again at the thought. "I've got no problem with training Thoko past this little mistake, but there is something that's been making me very angry."

The three of us were careful enough not to say another word as the Third Seneschal's features tensed further. His face reddened; a lone vein popped above his brow.

"There's an itch in the middle of my back," he said, "and I can't reach it."

\--

"Why do so many of you thug-types have to be so ugly?" Thoko said upon meeting me for the first time.

I blushed.

"I'm not ugly!"

Ganymedes shook his head firmly as I said this, which prompted us to both look him over curiously.

"What, Gany?" she mocked him while fighting back the pain from her broken wrist. "You think he's cute?"

"He's very..."

"Very what? Plain-looking?"

"Muscular." Ganymedes retorted quietly.

I backed away, though I appreciated the sentiment.

Mr. Sensitive nudged Thoko—

"C'mon," he said. "Let's have Ududa work her magic. If you're really able to keep up, you should recover in a few days. You'll lose time, of course, but I'll also be expecting you to become strong enough to reach the third floor within three weeks. You think you can handle that, Thokozani?"

"Yes, sir!"

Thokozani's expression glowed with determination. Whatever remained of her past had given Thoko an iron will, one that inspired me to train harder.

\--

While Thoko waited to recover, she sat on the sidelines as Ganymedes and I were sent to the second floor: floor nine of the Third Seneschal's tower.

Mr. Sensitive was a strange guy. His wife was a Death Officer, and, when she wasn't around—which was always for as long as I knew him—he watched over a personal army of cats, hundreds of which littered the lowest eleven floors. It was weird to relearn how to bench press with small kittens circling around me. Not only that, but that bastard had their litter boxes in the same room.

As Ganymedes and I were introduced to basic lifting, the smell of cat was forever in the air. Two days into practicing the perfect back squat technique, Ganymedes wouldn't stop sneezing, and it often felt like his allergies offended the Third Seneschal. Despite his condition, Ganymedes easily pushed through our first lessons.

Mr. Sensitive taught us the fundamentals of what he called "hypertrophy." He intended for Ganymedes and I to contract paired muscle groups starting at high intensities and to work our way down from there. Mr. Sensitive had me trying to bench press four hundred pounds at first, though I could never clear it on my own. With the help of Ganymedes as my spotter, I passed myself up fast without risking any serious injuries. The Third Seneschal always observed me intensely whenever I'd finished a set.

"You're so close," he would say.

Those words hurt. How could I be "so close" but not fully grasp my own potential? It made me feel pathetic; meanwhile, anger brewed on the inside that forced me to keep going in spite of how I felt.

That struggle for power felt so pointless. Mr. Sensitive pushed us all day, then he ordered us to stuff ourselves with huge portions of imported meat that had no taste, mixed greens with no seasoning, and fruits like bananas, blueberries, and ageless apples that had been shipped in from the World Below.

When Thoko finally joined us, on our fifth day of training, Mr. Sensitive didn't let up.

"In two days," he said with a smirk, "I will issue you all a simple challenge:

"Bench four hundred, back squat four hundred, and deadlift four hundred."

Thoko said nothing.

"Wait Master," Ganymedes exclaimed, "we can't possibly proceed! Tavon's form is too sloppy!"

"Huh?"

My form was not sloppy.

"He leans over to the side too much."

"No I don't, dumbass! That's just the way your head sits."

Thoko yelled at me, "Don't call him a 'dumbass,' loser! Ganymedes is stronger than all of us!"

"That's not the problem here," I said...

But I didn't finish. I knew that Thokozani was skilled; along with that, my crush hadn't faded all the way yet. I didn't feel like offending her with the truth. Mr. Sensitive didn't add anything; instead, he retreated to his private quarters, then he said:

"Ganymedes, take over their training. It is those two who are in danger of not moving on. If they can't progress by your side, I might have to replace them."

\--

When the day of our test had arrived, Mr. Sensitive didn't bother showing up. He left us all to wait, and everyone was sore from having overtrained. The Third Seneschal had forced us through a rigorous schedule, all the while standing back and treating a bunch of felines with more kindness than he did his own students.

Several hours passed, allowing us to slowly relax before small talk lead to our group wondering what the consequences would be if we failed to meet Mr. Sensitive's expectations.

He came to get us at dusk, and he appeared dressed in a black kimono that was tied tight by a grey obi.

"I'm sorry to say that we'll have to put off the exam until tomorrow. There's been some... changes. The Clan's in a tight spot right now, and the government above looks like it might find out too much after all. Just when we've dealt with the worst gangs the Citadel has to offer, the real enemy's the same as it's always been: annoying."

None of us knew what to say, but he'd expected that:

"Three stories below the Father's private quarters, there's a shrine dedicated to Sivattokun of the Ottokuni Interpretation."

"Who's that?" Thoko asked.

"The only real known rival to Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi. Labou's the scholar, so he'd be able to tell you more. Anyway, the Meiziki Clan gathers in sections to meditate before the statue of Sivattokun when we experience great oppression. It's only natural that the time would come when we'd need to act with greater wisdom. There will be clean clothes for you to change into before proceeding into the shrine. After we've seen His eyes, we will stop and bow at the waist..."

\--

"We must revere him," the Third Seneschal declared as we bowed before a great stone obelisk which crudely resembled a man sitting cross-legged.

"This artifact was recovered from the Upper-City—you know, the part of the Citadel that's already discarded the Old Gods, the ones who wanted us to pursue greatness with open minds. The Age of Avva has made kids like you forget the glories of a lost time, back when our President was nothing but a warrior."

I could just see the closed eyelids of the monument to the man who'd started the Ottokuni School, though this school of thought lurked closer and closer to obscurity every day due to the Democratic Council's ongoing pacification of the Dawn Federation.

"Father says that Sivattokun was like you, Tavon: he used his fists to solve disputes."

After having cleared my mind, I said, without really meaning to, "Why's he so important?"

He smirked.

"Because kid, during the worst of times, Sivattokun kept a level head. He was born into warriorhood; he understood a manhood greater than Jogarmachu of the Kayakandi sect." Mr. Sensitive glanced up proudly, "He was the King of Battle just as he was the King of Peace."

Without letting us know anything else about his own plans, the Third Seneschal woke us up early the next day to take his Exam.

\--

I was first.

The challenge itself didn't matter to me; I'd survived enough trauma that fear didn't occur to me as often. If I failed, then I failed. Since the night before, meditating beside Sivattokun had emptied my mind of anxious thoughts and prepared me for whatever the outcome might be.

While lying on the weight bench, my shoulders pressed four hundred pounds into the air, and the barbell wavered above me...

I brought it down fast—tapping metal against my chest—then, against my expectations, I held it in place. My arms shook, my abs and thighs locked up tight, but I pressed on, concentrating to find one last burst of energy:

I pushed it all the way up, grunting with the effort I had left. Ganymedes quickly came to my side, helped me set the barbell back in place, then patted me on the shoulder.

"Good shit." is all that Mr. Sensitive had to say.

Next up was Thokozani, who approached the weight bench with a little apprehension. Out of all of us, she had been given the least amount of time to adjust. I was pissed at Mr. Sensitive, but I couldn't disrespect Thoko in trying to defend her. She had to be strong on her own, and I wasn't any part of that.

Ganymedes assisted her in lifting the bar...

Then the worst happened.

I'd seen it being a real possibility, but I didn't want to believe it. Thoko held the bar suspended above herself, then it threatened to crush her. The barbell pushed her arms against her sides as it pressed hard against her chest. Ganymedes stepped in to help—but Mr. Sensitive stopped him.

"No!" he moved to intimidate Ganymedes. "The test isn't over."

Thoko gritted her teeth. Her face reddened, but she didn't let out a sound. Thoko's full focus was on keeping the weight from killing her, yet she was steadily being sapped of her strength.

"She could hurt herself, Master!"

Ganymedes squared off with Mr. Sensitive, who smiled in a way that surprised us.

"Take another look. If you can't see it, then you need to spend more time meditating."

"Master?"

Mr. Sensitive grunted, nodding in her direction.

Although she'd no way out, Thoko never expressed fear. She embodied strength, and, at that time, I vaguely understood what I'd been missing. Though I'd thought myself ready, I truly wasn't—not compared to Thoko's ferocity in the face of an impossible task.

I couldn't see it, necessarily, but I could definitely feel it. Ganymedes was still oblivious, but there was a slight pressure which flowed from where she was seated. Thoko's body assumed a reddish tint, one that reminded me of Enok's presence.

I felt a flurry of heat press against me. The ground cracked around the weight bench, with Mr. Sensitive gasping loudly before any of us could react. Her eyes burned red, then she scowled, uttering a feral growl. Thokozani tapped into a type of rage mine couldn't match, and—

Mr. Sensitive came to her side.

"No more," he said as he lifted the barbell from her grasp.

Thokozani fainted.

\--

Again, Thoko was sent off, carried this time, and taken to be inspected by Seneschal Ududa. Because of what'd happened, Mr. Sensitive's attitude toward her seemed to have changed. Thoko had all but turned his previous expectations on their heads.

"You think you can follow up on that performance, Ganymedes?"

Ganymedes nodded resolutely. Throughout our regular training sessions, he'd continued wearing his armor. I'd seen Ganymedes bench upwards of five hundred pounds. As far as his true numbers on both the squatting and deadlifting events, I knew that he was way beyond what I was capable of. If not for the club, he'd have been the perfect student and replacement for Mr. Sensitive.

He lifted the barbell. Ganymedes slowly allowed it to sink until the middle of the bar touched his sternum...

Ganymedes grunted. It didn't come back up.

"C'mon, Gany!" Mr. Sensitive's face reddened; that ugly vein started to show once more.

He kept struggling, his arms trembling just a bit. Other than that, he made no sound. The bar didn't shake the way it did when Thoko or I had it; even so, Ganymedes could do nothing else.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." Mr. Sensitive started before his anger got the best of him.

He strode to stand over Ganymedes:

"C'MON, FUCKER! Get that shit!"

Ganymedes didn't budge.

"MOVE."

In the silence that followed, he impressed me with what he said next.

"No." Saying it didn't cause him any pause as he kept the barbell from crushing his chest.

"No?" Mr. Sensitive didn't understand. "Are you fucking dumb?" he spat as he screamed, "PUSH THE FUCKING BAR!"

"Master," Ganymedes began, "Thokozani... has been treated unfairly."

"What the fu—"

"MASTER!" Ganymedes raised his voice, "Thokozani is strong and you know it. And so, I will not move on without her. Tavon is my friend, but so is Thoko!"

"Yeah? And what if Thoko gets you killed with her shortcomings?"

"She..." Ganymedes searched deeper inside of himself for the answer, "She doesn't have any shortcomings."

Even in armor that weighed more than sixty pounds, Ganymedes' gargantuan strength was obvious. Rather than press the barbell normally, he'd prepared to do something else.

"This competition... it's..."

For an instant, I felt his aura. Having felt two distinct auras by now seemed to activate my own, which caused a brief connection between the two of us. Because I felt the same way about Thoko's treatment, our minds experienced a connection, one that gave Ganymedes all the power he needed.

He threw the bar across the room, then he stood to face the Third Seneschal fully.

"Your exam is flawed, and I won't move ahead without my friends!"

\--

After that day, I didn't see Ganymedes nor Thoko when the Third Seneschal ordered me to move on to the third floor. Though Mr. Sensitive was right in front of me, it didn't feel appropriate to ask about their whereabouts. I didn't want to piss him off and have to bench press the building, so I relied on my intuition.

He didn't look upset when I met him for the next step of training, so I assumed that he hadn't done anything out of anger. Mr. Sensitive had been insulted, but he'd resigned himself to the fact that Ganymedes was his greatest student. Compared to someone with that guy's strength, I was a pretty basic addition to the team. My feat of four hundred pounds on all events had been the result of years of inconsistent training. It wasn't my zol that had allowed me to survive but strength by its own merit. So, for our first day on the third floor, the Third Seneschal ordered me to attempt five hundred pounds on bench press.

I stepped up to the challenge, and it was the effort of going so far beyond myself that brought on an unexpected revelation.

"Oh my," I heard a familiar voice.

Mr. Sensitive stepped back, knowing full and well that I couldn't bench five hundred. The weight nearly killed me. In response, my hidden nature showed its face.

"There's another source of zol coming from him," Fourth Seneschal Labou remarked in amazement. "This one's different from the tau that escapes from him when he's angered. Why, I wonder what the Father will make of this..."

Darkness encompassed me. Hatred, bitterness, and the accumulated wrath that had gathered from years of abuse. I felt every strike on my body renewed, then—
6

The Fourth Seneschal

\--

Tavon

\--

"Now it makes sense why the Father chose you."

Labou had stepped out to speak with someone over his Kom Cell while the Third Seneschal sanitized his equipment so that he could give me my first tattoo. Just like Setiawan, I had to get branded to show strength in unity. It's faded somewhat since then, and I'll likely never have it retouched, but at the time I thought I'd really accomplished something.

"You possess two different streams of zol, something no one's ever witnessed in the Meiziki Clan. Do you remember what it was you felt yesterday, right before you collapsed?"

"I was angry... but it was, like, natural. It felt like a release I couldn't control," I said.

"Interesting."

Labou continued, "Once you've finished with the holo-stinger (tattoo gun), Third Seneschal, contact me immediately."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing that concerns you right away, Mr. Sensitive. The Father wishes to contain this matter as much as possible. If the wrong information is spread, by any accident, the repercussions will make themselves present throughout our ranks."

"The Father doesn't trust me?"

"Incorrect." Labou held up his finger and stated, "Rather, the Father desires both confidence and coherence among his soldiers before the Meiziki acts. We're running out of time to protect our legacy; finish initiating him as quickly as you can."

\--

"It's always the same with him," Mr. Sensitive grumbled while in the last hour of finishing the outline of the Bengal tiger on my side.

He decided that he'd shade everything in once I'd returned from a "trip" of which I wasn't yet aware, so Mr. Sensitive raced against the clock as he plunged me into the midst of his endless bitching.

"The Father thinks I'm too dumb to be trusted with the simple task of keeping a secret. I've served him better than the others, Tavon, but he views me as fucking muscle and that's it. I don't stay up all night reading books like Labou, yeah, but that doesn't make him better than me!" He paused to point his thumb at himself. "One-on-one, he's nothing. Labou's my backup in a heavy fight, nothing more. Kid—"

The Third Seneschal looked into my eyes.

"Don't let what's inside eat at you. If necessary, let it out. If you feel it getting stronger, don't hide from it."

\--

Fourth Seneschal Labou did, in fact, plan on making an important trip, but his first stop was at his personal tower.

"The Dawn Bureau has officially opened an investigation into the Fourth Quadrant, but I assume you already knew that."

"Sir, I've been kept in the Third Seneschal's gym for a while. I've no idea of what's going on in the outside world."

"Tsk, tsk."

Fourth Seneschal Labou took his seat across from me; we faced each other over a wide board containing at least two hundred pieces. Surrounding us were tall, mahogany bookshelves that ran the full length of Labou's personal quarters.

The Fourth Seneschal's intellect was unparalleled; nevertheless, he was always soft-spoken:

"Have you ever played Shina? I supposed it's silly of me to ask you this, as no one in either the Mid-City—and especially not within the Lower-City—has heard of this little game. Hmm..."

Labou stroked his chin.

"There was that one kid I taught Shina to, and he was quick-witted, but the Father sent him away." The Fourth Seneschal sighed. "And now, with three hours to kill before the Bureau reaches the bottom of Zone H, I've to decide whether to teach another. Will you go away, too?"

"Who's the other kid you're talking about?"

"You mean that you haven't met all of them yet?"

I stared at him blankly.

"Oh my, I fear that you might be the one piece out of place in a regular Shina match, my friend. Expert players call this piece the meidon, 'the soldier who creates a ripple.'

"Oftentimes, matches involve teams starting with a total of a hundred pieces on each side. The game of Shina is meant to mimic war in its more complicated aspects. For instance, there are exactly eighteen different types of pieces, each with unique movesets which are equally advantageous and disadvantageous depending on an almost infinite number of outcomes. This game, unfortunately, has not yet been popularized within the Citadel.

"Shina means using your full capabilities to engage your opponent. Are you ready to learn, Tavon?"

\--

While Labou's explanation sounded easy enough, the reality was beyond what I'd expected. I couldn't see how it was possible to comprehend the possible movesets of eighteen different types, and the Fourth Seneschal spent the first hour trying to explain what felt like an unending stream of rules that didn't make any sense.

Labou gave up on teaching me anything during the second hour, instead choosing to read a book as I struggled to fight a war I'd already lost from the beginning. Although there were a ton of pieces to choose from, a million different strategies to use in my defense, the Fourth Seneschal defeated me in ten minutes.

We played a second time, then more of his attention drifted to what he was reading.

"Are you familiar with Arthur Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Representation?"

"No. I didn't get to read as much as I would've liked to growing up."

"That can be changed."

Labou smiled at me.

"If you could see your aura now, you'd notice how calm it's become. You've refined your mind through nearly two hours of play. Allow me to explain one concept to you before I'm to endure our last match."

I listened intently:

"If the senses are the sole proprietors of how a human processes and interprets the world, then that is all we know, isn't it: everything which is solely derived from the senses. Without really reflecting on our places within the universe, it's easy to fail to develop a working moral compass, a reason to be that isn't utterly delusional. Schopenhauer described this unconscious reason to be as a 'Will,' something which relates to the notion of a 'thing-in-itself'—which means that Schopenhauer believed in a driving force which led humanity to its current point."

"Who is Schopenhauer?"

"A master of wisdom," said Labou, "and someone who testified to a universal will to live, the Will. It's composed of the minds of us all, or so he said. He wrote that separation from the Will's often temporary and base desires was the right step toward individual enlightenment. Pleasure as well as the avoidance of pain is the true goal of the Will; our mission, Tavon, is to mature out of our current states of being."

"I think I understand."

"Shall we begin again?"

\--

Once the Fourth Seneschal had beaten me for the last time, he chuckled and said, "Don't fret, dear Tavon, for, amongst the upper echelons of the family, only Samazoshi has proven himself capable of halving my army."

"Did Samazoshi win?"

"Almost," he sighed, "but, as I had suspected, he moved with unbearable arrogance. While his skill is undeniable, I'm afraid that boy still requires more time to grow."

"Can you tell me anything more about him?"

Labou stood while activating his Kom Cell for a virtual call.

"Come with me," he said, "and then I'll be more than delighted to answer your questions, Master Tavon."

\--

Labou climbed into the driver's seat of a black, slender cruiser, ordered me to get in on the passenger's side, and handed me a pistol.

"From here on out, Tavon, the family is placing its trust in you. You," he dramatically revved the engine as fumes erupted all around us, "who betrayed the Nagao Clan for a promotion."

The ceiling of the top floor of Labou's tower separated, allowing the cruiser to hover higher into the air, and I responded to his accusation:

"They wanted to fight dishonorably, sir. The Elder was talking about planting explosives that would've taken out a lot of Meiziki footsoldiers."

"You wanted to keep people safe on both sides then?"

"I was tired of following a crazy person."

We drove toward the center of the Lower-City...
7

Politics

\--

Tavon

\--

"If all goes as planned, you should expect to receive your first assignment once we're finished."

"Will I get to train with the Fifth Seneschal?"

"Eck!" Labou scoffed, "As if that delinquent would ever make time for his students.

"You see, it's not so hard finding people who can have actual conversations with Fifth Seneschal Jigen, but it's always been quite difficult when assigning him a student. That man is nothing but a savage, Tavon, and, not long after we'd received you, it was recommended that we keep you two separated."

"Does he hate me as much as Modagi does?"

Barren land, terraformed for ground-based combat and most likely containing a network of underground tunnels manned by the Meiziki, changed to green; green gave way to large water filtration plants, farms stacked atop each other by linked steel grating, and a series of checkpoints. Upon passing the first, I'd asked Labou this question just as his Kom Cell received a call.

"Jigen possesses no real love for anyone," he said as he answered and the small hologram of a member of the Federation's military, Enrec, appeared.

"Your cruiser's unmarked, sir, and you're intruding on private land."

He looked kinda pissed, but the soldier kept his composure while pronated behind an abnormally long sniper rifle.

"Turn around now or we'll have to engage you."

"Good sir," Labou brought the cruiser to a gentle hover in place, "I'd like to request an escort to speak with the Major."

"Permission denied. The Major isn't taking visits right now. Please make your exit."

"It's about the missing officers in the Fourth Quadrant. We've information vital to the ongoing investigation."

The sniper ended the call, leaving us in uncertain silence for a couple of minutes. Labou sighed and slumped in his seat.

"He already knows that we've infiltrated the capital."

"What do you mean? Who?"

"Major Kohaku," Labou replied. "It appears as though one of our men has either been discovered or has indirectly tipped him off. Why else would he suddenly close off entry so far out? Think, Tavon...

"He who closes his gates to both friends and foes does not wish to be swayed in any way—but what caused so much paranoia in the first place? I reasoned far enough to understand that we've walked into a trap, yet this 'trap' is exactly how we get to where we need to be."

The hologram reappeared; the soldier's tone of voice remained same: "You've permission to carry on toward the capital. I apologize."

He ended the transmission without waiting for a response, and Labou explained while we proceeded over small, domed barracks arranged in neat ranks.

"That confirmed it." Labou gazed ahead as he spoke, "I concluded that Major Kohaku had little to no idea about what'd happened to Federation authorities. This manner of ignorance and incompetence, especially since it has persisted this long, could be considered a serious offense. Now do you get it?"

"The Major probably wants all the information he can find. We might be able to speak with him, but... why are we?"

The Fourth Seneschal paused, allowing himself the time to breathe in and out deeply.

"The Father and I discussed all of the Major's possible actions following the most recent disaster, and, every time, we both ended at the same point."

He increased the cruiser's speed, causing us to soar past a series of old but colorful spires marking the homes of the richest inhabitants of the Lower-City: Major Kohaku's "warrior houses." Ironically, not one of these "warriors" had ever seen combat; instead, Kohaku had established wealthy families within the heart of his crooked empire so that the members of this private upper class had just as much to lose as he did were he to fall out of Derek's favor.

"No matter how you start, a prudent strategist would take note of Kohaku's position and inevitably come to believe that he would pin all crimes on the Meiziki Clan to save himself as well as his administration.

"Tavon, we've all but won the Fourth Quadrant. The Major's original strategy, to pit the clans against one another as equals while he took a cut of the profits from each, has collapsed under the Father's monopolization. That being said, our new drones have already been used to manipulate dozens of victims, some of whom its reported have perished during testing.

"We've painted a great red mark in claiming the whole of the Fourth Quadrant, which makes us the easiest possible target. The Father suspects that, once the Bureau arrives, Major Kohaku plans to demonize the Meiziki Clan, exposing what he can of our operations."

"You mean,"—it was clearer than ever—"we're meeting with him so that we can change his mind? How do you—"

"You'll see."

The Fourth Seneschal smiled.

"You've observed the way of the scholar. Now you'll observe the way of the world."

8

Phaedrus

\--

Tavon

\--

It's known, to anyone who's lived in the Federation long enough, that there are only two houses with wooden frames overlaying bamboo-papered walls and conjoining to form multiple hip-and-gabled roofs within the Citadel.

There is the President's house, meant to remind the people in the Citadel of their history, then there is the House of the Shogun within the Fourth Quadrant.

Although Kohaku's home had been built atop a raised, metallic platform, it stood out from the globular turret towers and steel observation decks suspended high above it. In contrast to the President, the Fourth Quadrant's Major was held responsible for people like me: the bangers who continually boosted his profit margin. Because the Meiziki Clan had seen victory in what he'd wished to be an endless war, the Fourth Quadrant's capital would at last be forced serve its purpose.

As soon as Labou located a landing area, he frowned.

"That's no good. We've been beaten to our goal."

"The Bureau's here?"

I leaned forward to get a better look at cruisers which seemed too familiar. I couldn't place it until Labou clarified:

"No, but the number of possible outcomes has increased dramatically. The Ministry of Beautification have sent their own people and without coordinating with the Bureau. This means... Hmm."

We landed beside what happened to be new arrivals, two Knights who'd waited to follow behind another pair.

"They want the Major for themselves." Labou scowled. "Meaning they've foregone examining the situation and will probably try to coerce Kohaku into disclosing unnecessary information. Master Tavon, do you know what will happen if either of the enemy players win?"

"It can't be good. They'd come after the Father."

"They'd come after all of us, and the Father would not surrender."

Labou indicated the gun he'd given me.

"You're a part of this now. You've been brought here for a special reason, so I might need your help in handling a couple of burly gentlemen. The truth of the matter is that if we don't stop them here, Tavon, the Citadel will suffer.

"If the Father orders us to fight, we will. And, if we fight, we will lose. In the process of losing, how many lives would pay the price because of one man's pride?"

\--

Both Knights accosted us as soon as we'd stepped out.

"Civilians are unauthorized to be here!" one of them, covered completely in slender, flexible, and ivory armor breathed out heavily while clutching more tightly a type of gleaming-blue rifle I hadn't seen before.

"HEY!" The other shouted while drawing a fuming sword as he stepped toward us. "Why the FUCK did you land here?" he screamed in Labou's face.

Labou failed to visibly react. "You must desire hostility," was all he had to said.

"What?" the Knight moved his head an inch away from Labou's.

"It's just obvious that you desire a fight. If this is the case, why not take off your armor so that you may fight me like a man and not like a child hiding behind a pillow fort."

The Knight stepped back, then he chuckled as he murmured to his friend, "It's 'obvious' that we've got a regular shit-talker. I'm not dueling him," he said. "We don't do that anymore because it's faster to blow your fucking head off."

"Then give me a gun and we'll settle whose manhood's bigger."

"Ha!" interjected a familiar voice, "Labou, I always knew you were a freak."

Striding aside Setiawan, who himself carried a regular assault rifle, Jigen made his entrance while rocking his usual white kimono that was tied by a red sash.

Setiawan looked at me, and we both nodded while standing by patiently. The task ahead seemed impossible because of the armor they wore; normal bullets couldn't pierce it. If a fight suddenly broke out, Setiawan and I would be the Meiziki Clan's sacrifices.

"Did the Major send you?"

The sword-wielding Knight turned to face our strongest ally.

"Hmph." The Fifth Seneschal smirked in response. "I'm just passing through."

Labou immediately got tense. If Jigen hadn't been so reckless with his words, he might've helped craft a better story.

But he didn't give a shit about any of that.

"I heard the cries of two bitchly manlings from inside."

"Ha—what?" the Knight holding the gun gasped in astonishment.

"Look!" Labou interrupted, being the most well-spoken out of us all. "We can't allow this to keep happening—YOU TWO cannot keep letting misunderstandings escalated into potential violent encounters. That man over there," he pointed, "is a fool, but the army he comes from is all around you presently.

"Listen to me," he said with an air of authority, "the Meiziki Organization accepted the Major's request from the very beginning. We were authorized to spread our influence and, if necessary, resolve any disputes which might've arisen with our neighbors. Gentlemen, we've overrun the local population. All of us understand how to use zol."

The Knights looked at each other, then one huffed, "This doesn't sound right. Shit's not making sense, and he doesn't look like a zol user."

It was his partner who took action; he said, "I'm calling this one in."

He held up his SPEC.N. and began tapping on the screen when—

—Imperceptible speed breezed by us all—

Jigen unsheathed one katana, focused his power into a single stroke: he loomed just under the SPEC.N, slashed upward, and severed the Knight's arm.

Before his companion could react, Labou grabbed his weapon. He tried to manipulate control of the trigger well over to himself, but he couldn't do anything against the same armor that made most of us useless. In a second, he changed his strategy.

Fourth Seneschal Labou pushed the Knight toward the end of the landing area as he forced his rifle down.

"You can't fire now," he said, nearly out of breath, "you'll kill us both."

The Knight reeled back one fist, then he punched Labou hard enough to break his cheekbone—yet he held on even as his body began to tremble; Labou pushed with his legs while still trying to gain control, then—

Jigen cleaved his head in, melting the top half of the Knight's body with one of their own swords. He ignored Labou, who'd quickly scrambled away, and moved to stop the now one-armed Knight from trying to use his SPEC.N.

Jigen stabbed the device through its center and then readied a swing.

"If you don't want me to cook you alive, I'd suggest you tell us why you're here."

The sword burned against a radiant sunset, with Jigen hardening the sneer of disgust on his face.

"Is the Bureau here as well?"

"N-No!" the Knight shrieked while falling to his knees. "We came here on orders from high up!"

"The Ministry ordered you to recover the Major before the Bureau could?" Labou asked, seeming unphased after having taken such a hard hit.

"Yes!" he cried. "We were... ugh—we were just following orders!"

"When you become a warrior, you don't follow orders. You advance in spite of them, the real goal always present."

Jigen glanced over at Labou.

"Go on and take them. I watched two go in, but they haven't come out. They weren't supposed to be here!"

Labou walked ahead while gesturing for us to follow. Setiawan and I hurried behind him. Before he was too far out of reach to hear, Labou stole a final look at Jigen. At the same time, he handed me the Ministry rifle, then he asked the Fifth Seneschal, "What will you do with him? Will you be sure to hide this carnage before the Bureau does show?"

"Don't worry about it." Jigen smiled so widely that both cheekbones turned into pronounced pillars of flesh that underlined eyes of a hunger I couldn't yet understand.

"I'll make good use of my time," he said.

\--

By the time the rest of us had caught up with the Major, ascending a flight of wooden steps to enter a shrine, we got a new look at the unfolding situation.

Major Kohaku meditated in prayer before a statue of Isolakandi, whose arms reached out for spiraling suns hovering beside a face with no marked expression. Behind him, two Dawn Knights waited. Both of them wielded Ministry rifles, but they appeared respectful enough to allow Kohaku the time to finish praying.

When Labou stepped toward the Major, both Knights reacted to our presence:

"This area is off limits!" one shouted, "How the hell did you get in?"

All of us put our hands up, but Kohaku didn't move an inch. He was an older man who sported a large, ginger afro connected to a long beard, and he sat before Isolakandi for a greater reason. Not long after we'd intruded on his meditation, he spoke:

"It's the Meiziki Clan," he said. "They've come to persuade me to back them. Unfortunately, they're too late."

Labou continued leading as our group's speaker, "We're here to deliver very delicate information, information of which you're in desperate need, I believe."

"The Meiziki Clan, eh?" one of the Knights said. "This is the army of criminals you were talking about, sir?"

Major Kohaku nodded, then he stood, the full length of his brown kimono unraveling below him. He walked in our direction without making any eye contact while he lectured.

"I promised you that their leadership would arrive soon. Everything has gone as it should, all according to plan, Sergeant Hiyo."

"Good." the Knight known as Sergeant Hiyo nodded and set his sights on the Fourth Seneschal. "They're all armed," he warned.

With that, our small group settled on the best option: we aimed our guns at the Major.

Tense silence followed, but this silence was punctuated by what felt like eternal hesitation on our part. One move would ensure destruction for both parties. Once tension had rendered everyone else speechless, only Labou could keep trying.

"I believe there's been a misunderstanding," he told them. "We are not common killers, Major. Rather, we've come to testify to the crimes of an evil syndicate."

"Syndicate?" Sergeant Hiyo exclaimed. "Bangers wanna rat on bangers now? I thought the Meiziki Clan would at least have a code of honor."

Labou reddened slightly, but he was too confident in his charisma to stop—"Sergeant Hiyo," he said, "I can see that you're an astute servant of this country, which is why I can't be upset. The Meiziki Organization has never participated in criminal acts, but those who called themselves the 'Uesugi' have caused misery for most of those living in the Fourth Quadrant. For years, we have fought against their repeated attempts at extortion, but they've been forced into hiding by the Dawn Federation at last having taken notice!

"Sergeant Hiyo, I'm here as the leader of the Meiziki Organization to warn Major Kohaku of the potential dangers of confronting the Uesugi Clan directly—"

Labou turned to address the Major:

"They won't stop because you decided to target a legitimate business."

Kohaku's eyelids widened, then he snickered.

"'Legitimate business?'" he said. "The Meiziki Clan is responsible for the violent deaths of hundreds, chap. Your real leader's ambition cannot hide itself anymore. Cengiz overstepped his boundaries, I'm afraid, and so, in order to eradicate the Fourth Quadrant's crime entirely, I've told these gentlemen what they need to do.

"I'm not the one they need. They need the 'Father.'"

"And so you've been content to wait on him?" Labou's thinking was ahead of mine.

Major Kohaku nodded with a grin which betrayed bottomless greed. "Why, lad, that's been the whole purpose of our meeting here.

"I knew that the Meiziki would send their people. I'm not blind—they own most of the Quadrant!—which is already problematic. No 'deal' extends far enough to the point where a government Major would be required to hand his territory over to you. We know what you've done, what you're scheming Father is trying to do. I've seen everything."

"You've been misled." the Fourth Seneschal retorted flatly.

"Have I?"

Kohaku attempted to stare down Labou, but our group's speaker refused to give in. Because of how far we'd come, one misstep would spell the end of this operation.

And then...

Jigen stepped through, covered in bright red blood. Both Knights focused their respective aims on the blood-drenched newcomer, who now openly brandished both of his katanas.

"I... I think I've done it." Jigen said.

The full attention of the room was on him.

"I've Awakened." Blood ran from his lower lip as it curved into a crimson smile. "Major Kohaku—"

I felt the presence of zol spread from his body and shoot toward the Major.

It seemed as though the Fifth Seneschal was prepared to give his life, as his poor judgment would cause the situation to soon get out of control. His attitude, his famished expression, and his words were all suited for a grim battle, even if it meant him taking a dozen bullets in the process.

Meanwhile, the lights went out.

Lavender-hued light spread across the room, with dark clouds issuing out from Major Kohaku's private quarters. It was the presence of another force that caused the Major to briefly change his mind.

"Don't shoot!" he called to Sergeant Hiyo. "You CANNOT commit murder in front of Lord Isolakandi!"

"I feel sick," was all that Hiyo could say in response.

He lowered his weapon.

Jigen stepped toward Hiyo, but Labou touched his arm and met his eyes—"No. Wait," he said. "It seems the boss has committed to a plan of his own."

From the Major's private quarters, thick smog emerged in small rivulets. From rivulets, came a floating river of fog, then came shadows that began to encircle Kohaku's personal shrine.

"Not here!" he exclaimed. "Please do not disrespect my God in this fashion, Cengiz! Please!"

Labou took advantage of his confusion: "Then you'll listen to what we have to say."

Sergeant Hiyo directed his aim at Labou but became uncertain once Jigen flashed a grin, checkered in red and white, his way.

"Don't move!" he pleaded more than ordered.

Major Kohaku retreated toward the door, proceeding with fear I didn't expect. Before he could pass through, he called out to Hiyo, "Sergeant, please accompany me! We've another intruder..."

\--

Everyone passed through the door, flinching as darkness enveloped what became a realm of infinitely expanding black, like ink spilled across this plane of reality. Once I'd entered the Major's private quarters, I saw that even Jigen had been awestruck by what we all witnessed.

Major Kohaku was bold enough to proceed toward someone standing in the center of the swirling chaos, someone I knew well enough to recognize in the darkest of rooms. Black pus protruded from the scar on the Father's forehead, who smiled while totally sober for once.

Sergeant Hiyo tried, just as his comrade did, to raise his gun, but both were unsure of what they were seeing. When they peered closer, they saw too much.

Sergeant Hiyo gurgled; he seized, then he spasmed while standing as black blood leaked from his lips. His companion became rigid, staring off into nothing. The Knights were able to stay alive, but the scene ahead was too much for anyone who hadn't experienced the least bit of zol, and so they were rendered helpless before the spectacle of the Father.

At the Father's feet, there was a special shrine, totally different from the one spoken of in the myth...

\--

The White Boar was the Meiziki Clan's ultimate weapon. It was the scourge of the Fourth Quadrant.

I recalled how the story went and that a candle-lit shrine of rocks had been built outside of the Odoya Clan leader's home. Each rock was said to have been carved in the same image: the image of a boar which had first decayed and then grown into something more awful.

The leader of the Odoya Clan vanished once the shrine was set. No one was ever able to locate his body afterward.

\--

Right before Major Kohaku's eyes, the Father had carefully stacked a group of human hearts to form an open pyramid around a candle; his intentions glowed with a different purpose in mind.

"This is the flesh of your servants," the Father said to Major Kohaku.

No one had the will to respond.

From behind the Father, a perpetual shriek resounded throughout the room. Black tar drenched broken aspirations; despair manifested by seeping through the walls around us.

Darkness gripped me. It enabled old memories to replay within a cycle of torment promoting the notion that I'd failed. No matter what I'd done up to that moment in my life, nothing made me feel more imperfect as I beheld what was a pure void. I felt the urge to end my life rise within me, though I knew the desire wasn't my own. The presence of the Father's shrine magnified feelings of pain and of personal guilt. This kind of guilt was inescapable; you couldn't shake it, and you couldn't run. The more terror I experienced, the heavier my body felt.

"I could've ended you," the Father said to Major Kohaku.

Kohaku, about as old as Cengiz himself, showed real terror in the face of this void. He shook in place, unsure of how to react and not necessarily in control of how he felt.

All around the Father, unfiltered torture tore at our hearts, and...

He grinned. He grinned because he didn't have to suffer the way we did.

"Poor Major," he bellowed, "don't you realize that I've decided to spare you a much grimmer fate. What I had planned for the leader of the Odoya is not at all the same as what I've got planned for you."

Kohaku had no response. He awaited obliteration.

"I had my disciples follow your personal bodyguards. Their mission was to clear the security around you by invoking Phaedra; Phaedra, who would whet his appetite and come at the approach of midnight. With the moon overhead, Phaedra shattered their dreams, broke their minds, and ate them whole. He lives alongside me as I do him, and he is ever-hungry, Major Kohaku.

"So hungry, my friend, that it took great insight to understand how his nature could be changed...

"Phaedra was supplied with a bounty of strong organs, the noble hearts of many who served you, and this was all for a reason, Major!"

Tears fell from Kohaku's eyes.

"You killed people in my own house? Why would you go so far? Why—without consulting me?"

"I DID consult you!" the Father yelled:

From that, white rippled through the air. Follicular sprigs lined the atmosphere, and something breathed so powerfully that it shook the room.

"I consulted you," he insisted, "and you refused to recognize the Meiziki Clan's supremacy!

"We fought them off. We defeated our rivals—rivals the Odoya Clan couldn't have ever hoped to contend with under your policies! But that doesn't matter," he snarled, "because we still won. We deserve our place in government."

White beetles crawled in droves, crawled along the ceiling of a formless portal which reached into stark infinity. Yellow eyes peered at us several yards from behind the Father.

"I could've had Phaedra eat you, Major. Do you realize what kind of predicament you've put me in? If you have the Meiziki indicated in a major crime, then I'd have to have you killed. Are you so delusional as to think that I don't have the upper hand?"

Rotten jaws glowed above and below the Father's body. Black pus turned to streams of an ink-like substance which created a pool around him.

"If you do not wish to kill me, Cengiz, then why go so far? Why come to my home, terrorize my people, and harass me with empty threats?"

A tear rolled down the Father's right eye.

"Empty?" he said. "Why, I just wanted the people in this room—you, in particular—to remember someone...

"Major, a collection of stones carved in his likeness is a signal for Phaedra to devour those near them. It signifies dry hunger which yearns to be satiated. A collection of hearts, on the other hand, is a desperate cry for a blessing. In this case, a brief memory of a blessing who once graced this Earth. I came here because I wanted you to feel what I once felt. I wanted you to see the face of Phaedra. That's what this is all about."

\--

The Father

\--

If you can imagine what it was like to meet the first person whose beauty you admired, and, if you can magnify that by an infinite quantity, then might just be able to picture her the way I can.

She, who could move the world with less than a smile. If you've ever seen a beautiful woman, then reckon that there was once someone who wasn't of this Earth, someone who carried a piece of the Beyond inside of herself.

If she'd asked a mountain to split in two, it would've. If she'd asked the President to make her Queen of the Citadel, I've no doubt that he would've granted her request.

I've read the words of old philosophers. They claimed that beauty witnessed on Earth contained traces that reminded us of a greater truth. The vision of real Beauty bypasses what we could ever comprehend, leaving behind partial visions of a better whole. But know this: her smile carried the universe.

I brought Phaedra to you, with a bounty of hearts, so that he would reveal his other side, Phaedrus; because I wanted you to see, through Phaedrus as a conduit, what's always been the formless aspect of beauty—that which cannot be viewed through normal means...

\--

Tavon

\--

I saw the same vision that the Major did. I mean, as far as I know.

My closest comparison to beauty was Beatrice, but the beast encircling us portrayed a vision so intense that it caused the eyes of the Dawn Knights to burst from their sockets.

Setiawan had enough willpower to cover his own, but he fell to his knees with a cry of anguish.

That son of a bitch made me watch Beatrice die. He made me watch her die a total of thirty times, and then Phaedrus resurrected her. Beatrice appeared before me, took my hand, and we walked toward a burning sphere. Her hand felt warm. Real. I knew that it was just a dream, but the light fell on her face, making it radiant as her eyes looked into mine. I felt trust, love. I felt grief.

I cried.

The more I cried, the brighter it got around me. My thoughts turned formless, too, mimicking the Beauty depicted by Phaedrus. When I was able to look, a gargantuan spirit formed a portrait which penetrated dimensions, a portrait that showed creatures and scenes impossible to describe. My eyes traced the image of a human, trailed toward her face, and...

Phaedrus. The depiction of Beauty itself. In a moment, I understood that, although it flowed around us, real beauty was not something that came from the outside. The White Boar showed to me what I considered beautiful, what that word meant to me as well as the closest expression of it, and, to me, that expression existed in the very moment when Beatrice had told me that she loved me.

\--

"My wife, Narima, was so breathtaking that something about her reminded both men and women of either their own partners or lost loved ones. She had a gift that I envied, that I was terrified to lose because it couldn't be hidden.

"It's as if a god had put her here to teach the troubled the ways of the wise. Narima was the most beautiful spirit on Earth," the Father said, "and I lost her."

Major Kohaku shed a tear. It looked as though he was so overcome with emotion that he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"I lost my wife, Major. I lost what was priceless, what was perfect."

"What happened?" Kohaku managed to utter.

The Father paused, then he said, "We lived in the World Below, that's what happened. A storm—a goddamn storm—took away the only one who could keep me human. Now..."

White light faded to bleak darkness that circled the Father as pus drenched half of his face.

"My light's gone, Major. I wanted to rediscover it, but no one could do such a thing in the world you've built."

"The world I've built?"

"You presented a challenge to all warriors within the Fourth Quadrant, and my Clan rose to your challenge. Along the way, the memories I had left of Narima kept me sane, kept my resolve firm.

"Major, we tried so many times to establish a relationship with the capital. I always knew that the Clan could rapidly demolish any Lower-City competition, and this is why I sent my first request before the Nagao fell. I knew that the end result would always be the same."

The darkness around the Father began to fade, but his eyes glowed white when he continued to speak:

"From your capital, you, more than anyone else, should've known who'd end this war for good. Now we're here, Major. We've come to receive the grand prize, ready to change the world—why, you might as well consider this the most profitable situation. You might find that it's much easier ruling the Fourth Quadrant if you properly delegate the work. These nobles you've at your disposal," he said, "they're of little use to you when it comes to spreading your influence. What do they know of greater visions, huh? Do you really think pampered aristocrats would ever bother assessing prospects for a systematic expansion?"

"Cengiz..." Kohaku started. "You can't be serious—"

"Major," his tone was aggressive, "the Meiziki Clan will be known for ridding the world of lesser men—lesser men who preyed upon the innocent!

"I'm proposing that you enlist us as your personal army. I've spent years amassing the finest fighters, which should be obvious if you consider how far we've come. Major, the only way this works is if you accept my modest proposal: let us join you in the capital. We've earned this, Major."

One of the Dawn Knights wandered up to Kohaku and fought through his agony to put one hand on the Major's shoulder.

"Don't do what he says. He wants to make you a pawn, Major! Don't listen to him!"

"Hmm."

"Major..." the Father smirked. "You've no other choice. What, would you rather die here? Lose the opportunity to forge an even greater legacy?"

"Hmm."

"If you agree to an official alliance, Phaedra will be your best tool for dispensing with difficult political opponents."

"..."

Major Kohaku bowed his head, and then there was silence...

The Father moved to speak but stopped himself, Setiawan prepared to blast the Major if he refused, and I waited, hoping the rest of my life wouldn't be spent trying to fight the government.

Steel rang out—

Kohaku swung: he sliced through the neck of the Knight nearest to him, then he lunged and swung again:

Kohaku decapitated the second Knight, who'd realized too late that his life had come to an end.

"Cengiz, leader of the Meiziki Clan..."

Major Kohaku heaved up and down, exhausted from having focused all of his strength into two expert strikes.

"I accept your proposal...

"But I also request written conditions established between the two of our factions."

I thought I heard a faint knocking from far off.

"In the New Fourth Quadrant," the Father said, "there'll be no 'factions.' This proposal means an end to the anarchy that's prevailed for so long, Major. You've profited from this anarchy, benefitted from the suffering of others—admit it. Had the Ministry taken you, they'd have done as they pleased and then thrown you in a cell. You need us, Major, because there's no escape from your own decisions."

I heard the knocking a second time.

"They've come." Kohaku said, more to himself than to anyone else.

Labou tensed up, but Cengiz laughed.

"Perfect!" he said. "Everything's gone the way I'd hoped. At your most vulnerable, Major, I think you know who to side with. Think about your future, okay? That's all you should care about if you want to survive."

Major Kohaku collected himself. He stared at the Father for a long time before he said, "I need assurance that Phaedra will come to my aid no matter what the emergency."

The Father nodded.

"You got it."

\--

Major Kohaku shut the door behind him and moved on, into the antechamber, to answer the call of two Bureau agents. We could just barely hear them speaking, though we could tell that Kohaku had purposefully stayed close by for us to listen in.

Out of what I did catch, I noticed a lot of long pauses. Kohaku didn't seem to be responding well enough to satisfy what sounded like a flurry of questions. To make matters worse...

Blood flowed to pass under the door.

Labou opened it and stepped through while prepared to face the Bureau alongside the Major:

"Hello, gentlemen," he began, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I'm actually Major Kohaku's treasurer and the overseer of construction in this district; I handle more of the minute assignments around here, so I believe that I'd be better equipped to answer your questions."

An older man's voice responded, "All right, we appreciate your cooperation. Now..."

\--

Because of the Fourth Seneschal, the Major was reminded firmly of his former promise. Kohaku allowed Labou to do most of the talking, but, together, they both claimed that the Uesugi were responsible for the great loss of life that had occurred within the Lower-City.

Of course, the Bureau kept pushing them. Each question they asked implied that they knew more to the story, but the two of them wouldn't give an inch. They refused to admit to anything.

Labou charmed them with a vocabulary that was overwhelming even for the Father and one that almost spurred Jigen into another violent rage. After an hour of interrogation, I heard one of the agents say, "Thank you for all your help, Major. We'll take your recorded official statement and match it with what we have so far concerning the situation back at the office.

"These types of happenings are abnormal, and they usually indicate a more wicked force at work. The media's gone mad out there; it's trying to say the Federation's responsible, but that's impossible."

Jigen started to move for the door, without anyone having prompted him to act.

"Fifth Seneschal Jigen," the Father called, "there's no need for that."

"They've seen one of us," was his comeback.

"And they trust him. Fourth Seneschal Labou handled this matter well—much better than that stupid Major!"

"Ugh." Jigen stomped away to sit cross-legged on the ground.

"The Uesugi were involved in some 'wicked' business," Labou said to the agents, "they did create the Hive, after all."

"Yep," one of them replied, "we heard about that one. It appears the Lower-City requires more cleaning up than we'd originally thought."

"And we'll aid you in that mission." Kohaku replied congenially.

"Thank you for your time," they said. "We're not used to getting so much help in the Lower-City."

The Bureau left, but they didn't go back to the Mid-City.

Without the Father's knowledge, they stuck around, watching vigilantly and with more intel on the Meiziki Clan than we knew. Despite having made an alliance with the man he believed to be his last opponent, the Father had also attracted the attention of a force several times more threatening than any one Major.

\---

PART THREE

The White Wing Brief

\---
1

Mr. Mauros

\---

Tavon

\---

A razor travels a line across the back of my head.

Hot and cold follow a lathering of shaving cream; a blade slides across my jaw. Small scissors trim away excess.

My first clean cut in a while, and old man Mr. Mauros, wearing a green bomber jacket, starts in on the latest girl he's been trying to sway:

"Sheona really doesn't understand the type of effort I put out, man. See, when you're the main breadwinner—puttin' food on the table, making real money with a natural talent, and it is natural, buddy."

"I know. That's why I keep coming back."

"Right, man, and so she doesn't understand that I've built a 'clientele base' around good people. There's fellas out here who don't get the meaning behind a nice line up. They won't come through."

"They probably just don't know."

"Psh. They don't care, Tavon. This generation is real backwards when it comes to gettin' right style."

"They might not know much about style, Mr. Mauros. The Cities are different worlds from one another."

"All I'm saying is that a fool should try to be presentable, man."

Mr. Mauros stops cutting as he complains. I hate when he does this, turning an thirty minute cut into two hours—"You got bangers out here continually lowering the standards for posterity! Any kid can get a gun, blast somebody, and gain status."

"It's always been that way."

"Yeah, but these kids nowadays..." Mr. Mauros sighs. "They don't make 'em like they used to."

"It's not their fault. The Citadel wasn't designed to make the world perfect. They're the casualties."

"Hmph. Well, all I'm sayin' is that gang violence is never justified, period. No god ever approved of boys stabbin' each other in the streets."

Mr. Mauros seems bothered by something. Rather than saying anything, I realize that silence is the best way to understand more.

"I'm so tired of seeing the young get caught up things which shouldn't concern them at such an early age!"

He'll give it up soon.

"T, man,"—he rubs alcohol across the back of my neck—"we need good leaders to show these kids how to act. You hear me?"

I get a message on my Kom Cell: "If you lose control of your Death Disciple, you'll be sentenced to execution, playa. Coordinates: 55.14.9.D-7.2.23. Don't do it again."

He sent me Raiko's exact location? What's the brat getting into that would prompt the Grandmaster to figure out where he was before me?

"You get hit up by one of your girls?"

"No. Not that."

"Man, T, these kids really be something."

"What happened?"

He tells me the story of a kid who went berserk, who went and stabbed two men because he wanted to protect his friend. Mr. Mauros doesn't give a name, but what he says brings me to my feet while I scroll through my Cell, hurrying to pay Mauros with Federation credit.

"I gave the boy a cut today, but I sent the local police his location right after he went and left—"

"Where'd he go?"

"Uh, hmm...

"Kid said that he had to meet somebody over in Zone H, where a bunch of them old houses and churches is at..."
2

Vigilance

\---

Janelle

\---

Lieutenant Aden Kaust became a shadow, following Tavon as he left the same barbershop which he frequented once every two weeks. He stalked his prey while evading the Dawn Bureau Headquarters as well as a few calls from its new head of staff, Commander Aaliyah.

Tavon began to move on foot, and Kaust waited for a time before he felt it prudent to follow...

\--

"You're covering overtime, right?" his partner asked again.

"If I tell you that you'll be compensated, Sanori, then I've got you."

"Has the Commander contacted you?" Sanori cleared his throat while making direct eye contact.

Kaust looked away. "She has, but, remember, the Knights don't give a damn about what she thinks. Any orders she could give right now can be overrided by the Ministry—who knows, that could change, too, and all because a devil attacked the Citadel."

"Psh. Whatever." Sanori combed over his dirty-blond hair and interlocked his fingers behind his head as they continued pursuing Tavon, up until the point when he summoned a B-Cruiser.

"Do you think she'll try to take your job, Lieutenant?"

"Hope not. This should be the biggest arrest the Bureau's had in months."

\---

Kaust

\---

It's all starting to make sense as I piece it together.

I can see an origin, and I just witnessed the conclusion: a drove of black insects descending on the Citadel after that worm came barreling through.

It started with the attack on Genod & Portis, moved to Zone D, where a major crime boss went down. Two corrupt organizations fell to brutal attacks; a third was exposed at the same time Tavon appeared. Not long after that he was targeted by Noboros, but what would they want with someone like him?

Tavon's with the Angelos killers, which makes him dangerous by association. If a man can hover in the sky, summon god-like powers to destroy a devil bullets can't touch, then it's not impossible to believe that Tavon might have some similarities to this man. He's a kid, really—in over his head—but I've got to take him. If I can detain Tavon, then the Bureau will have a better chance at getting clearer answers as to what's been going on. If Aaliyah refuses to treat him like a suspect, I'll have to go through the Ministry.

I can't concern myself with what might happen. This is about what happens today. With Sanori's help, I'll be able to ambush Tavon on my own terms.

Once we've got him in our sights, we'll find out everything we need to know.

3

Foresight

\---

Janelle

\---

At the commencement of the White Wing Brief, which itself took place near the outside of the Upper-City's perimeter, President Derek received four reports from four Staff Commanders.

Both the President and his Staff Commanders piloted modified war cruisers, zekokons, immense steel bodies all constructed with the intent to merge them when the time came for war. Anticipating more to come, the President had mobilized his Commanders in preparation for a White Wing Brief, which would not be fixed to one location. As they discussed the next crisis, their combined vessels would continually maintain a route fixed route to avoid any attempts at surveillance from the outside.

Derek awaited each individual within the center of his private cruiser, a center replete with at least a hundred depictions of the Buddha and of the Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi. Gold and red carpet lined its floors, gold paint covered its walls, but only small candles, lit by their respective shrines, illuminated the way for each visitor.

Before the Medical Staff Commander could take his seat before the President, however, Derek's Imago had reached far beyond the confines of their joined zekokons.

President Dereikaund sought an answer, a way to create the best future in what he now believed to be a bitter struggle. Within his mind, he could trace the progress of various events—of various interventions even—that could possibly change these events, playing out in real time. As his foresight was the greatest within the Citadel, the President's primary duty was to choose the optimal route.

Unfortunately, Derek could find no sanctuary in his visions.

The Medical Staff Commander, Olendez Ishir, sat cross-legged opposite the President, then he gave a formal report which he had rehearsed perhaps dozens of times:

"Mr. President," he said, "some awful plague has traveled through the Mid-City since we were attacked. Zone B's Medical Corps report citizens morphing into perversions of themselves. Zone C is filled with complaints of other citizens having lost their minds. For now, all medical personnel have been put on full alert. In response, we've requested assistance from Maxwell's army of sentinels as a preventative measure."

Olendez took a second to breathe, then he continued:

"Furthermore, the public has assumed the worst: the neurotoxins released during the Dar-Tech attack are being correlated with this new phenomenon, urging the question of whether more information should be divulged by the government to mitigate safety concerns. They've gotten restless."

"Ieaquim," Derek replied, then he dismissed him: "Thank you for your diligence."

Baffled by Derek's utter lack of emotion, the Medical Staff Commander retreated with confusion that passed its way down the line.

\---

When the Infantry Staff Commander, Irden Ionicos, issued his report, his reception was much the same.

"Mr. President, we've soldiers stationed at our four bases of operations in the World Below. While they man mortars and drones, legions of sentinels have been positioned to act as a buffer between Gaspul's national army and our own forces. As always, our goal is to keep the human casualties on our side to a minimum. Along with that, special operatives have embedded themselves within the national army's ranks so as to properly instruct the local populations on how to defend themselves if the enemy advances too far in.

"All military personnel have been alerted to the possibility of a formal siege on the Four Cities; we're more than ready to fight if it comes to it."

"..."

Derek waited for a moment, then he nodded.

"Thank you. Please take your leave."

\---

"Mr. President," the Communications Staff Commander, Sevi Baron began, "the outcome you predicted has presented itself, seemingly, from out of nowhere. How could foreign territories anticipate that the Citadel would be besieged by a giant insect, after all?

"There's no way that this could be a mere coincidence. Mr. President, I fear that Alandra, the Gaspul Native Party, and the followers of Gozadalus have all had their hands in recent incidents. In trying to further negotiations with Alandra, we've been met with only silence or curt rebuttals. Once that creature left its mark, our ambassadors to Alandra went missing.

"In the Four Cities of Gaspul, we've gotten word of multiple bombings having been carried out by Gozadalus devotees who are spread across the region. The GNP has publicly denounced the Federation by hijacking streaming channels with weaker security to broadcast their message of revolution; in doing so, they've additionally announced their support for the followers of Gozadalus.

"To them all, we are a threat. I'm sorry to report that attempts at contacting other allied settlements have proven fruitless, as other territories fear to involve themselves in what could become a heated battle."

"Mhm," Derek muttered. "You're dismissed."

\---

The last of them was the Intelligence Staff Commander, Asenso Ido, who was considered by Derek to be his most senior and qualified candidate when it came to official matters. A man with grey, cropped hair connected to a white beard started confidently:

"Sometimes the greatest must stand alone, Mr. President. Not only have our potential allies abandoned us, but we've lost control of the Citadel Prison."

It was this statement which caused the President's eyelids to open fully.

"The Prison has been taken?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir." Asenso bowed curtly. "That bug must've left behind a lot more of its spawn than we thought. It did appear in Zone H, so we've only recently learned of any residual damages in the Lower-City."

"What sentient force could possibly desire the Prison?"

"Sir, I... I believe that this is all connected, as do the other Commanders. The GNP has infiltrated the Citadel before—"

"Yet not in a large enough number to take the Prison, Commander. Do you realize how many sentinels were staged there?"

"Sir, several sentinels were ordered to sacrifice themselves against that giant demon."

"Even with their sacrifices, no mindless beast could take the Federation Prison. Commander, you are half-right. Had you better awareness—were you already Awakened, perhaps, I might share more with you. For now, I trust you to relay my instructions:

"Create select battalions dedicated to the task of reconnaissance; reinforce the missile defense systems housed within the Four Cities; utilize native scouts who can recognize immediate threats to the Four Cities. Our army of sentinels should spread themselves thin; they're built to withstand considerable damage, and thus rescue operations will be integrated within their mission of general defense.

"Finally, two Commanders will help me run some testing on our combined zekokons so that we're ready to deploy alongside our aerial armada. Commander, a "long war" can be cut short through advanced means, and the Federation's fleets will establish a wall which cannot be broken."

\---

At the conclusion of his meditation later in the day, President Derek breathed in and out, then he said: "You may show yourself. There are only two Commanders on board; both have been set up far from my room, so no one can hear you."

I have no fear of men

In this realm, I am King

"Enough firepower may harm even you, Dejinden, for we're abreast of something which will not be easily tamed once it's begun. Despite the fact that Alandra has honored our treaty for years, they yet seek an opening in our defenses. They seek a weakness, but we will reveal to them none. If they threaten our borders, we will ride out to meet them."

There will be consequences

"And that's why I need you to do what I've asked. All it takes is one act of aggression and the Dawn Federation will be changed in one night.

"The Democratic Council has called for my immediate resignation in light of recent events, but I've the full authority to reign in control of the State should we come under fire. Now is the time for kings to prove themselves, both on the battlefield as well as at home."

Your vision demands that blood be shed

Whichever way you cast your lot

Your offspring will suffer

What you have asked will be granted

Though the rest of the world may be worse off
\----

PART FOUR

Four Seasons

\----
1

Spring

\----

Tavon

\----

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to change before we begin crossing through official checkpoints?" the Fourth Seneschal asked Jigen as he stepped into the backseat, with me, to allow the cruiser's built-in robot to take over as the pilot while Jigen rested his arm outside of the passenger side window.

"Perhaps we should switch spots," Labou suggested.

"No."

"Fifth Seneschal Jigen, plea—"

"No."

"I'm afraid that you have blood all over y—"

"I don't give a shit."

It got quiet as our cruiser ascended, connecting to the closest hyper rail before we merged with regular traffic.

\----

Aside from reaching across the whole of the Fourth Quadrant, the Father wanted to exploit the resources available to him from the Mid-City. Because the Clan had access to nanobots that could create addicts out of everyday citizens, he thought we could develop faster economically if we branched out to other sections of the Citadel. We didn't need good products anymore. Our new tech was the product because it could force people to feel a number of ways.

Rather than attempt to invade another Quadrant, the Father had put business ahead of his personal military ambitions. The Father created "cells," groups of us that he dispersed between the Zones he considered to be the most unstable. With the Meiziki Clan's sheer numbers, not to mention an intimidating arsenal at their disposal, they'd easily taken over several corners within specific sections of these Zones before I'd even joined them. Instead of being loud and reckless, the Father ordered his soldiers to use more diplomatic tactics to their advantage.

And so, as more and more people were transformed into ghouls who would fiend without end, the Father bought up property with the Meiziki's steadily increasing profits. With property, there came the need for muscle.

More than anywhere else, students of the Seneschals got the best training when in the field, and, for all intents and purposes, Zone E's Takeda Arcade was a major part of the action.

\----

Within the eastern districts of the Mid-City, infrastructure gets a whole lot tighter. Instead of regular streets and alleyways, you'll find maybe two major roads that are packed with the homeless. Above that, there have always been hyper rails that stay forever congested with commuters going back and forth. Zone E was—and still is—one of the most crowded areas in the Citadel.

Above tangled rails that expanded in all directions, we passed by the only real way to travel to Zone E on foot:

Skyscrapers as well as expensive living projects, highlighted by blue, red, and gold neon lights, were clustered so closely together that they formed walkways as a method of connecting thousands of roofs as well as foundations for new, domed buildings that were yet to be finished. Rather than build out, the city planners of E had extended the population upward and in a flurry of lights bunched together with holographic advertisements.

Once we were far enough in by way of a nearby hyper rail, cruisers were prohibited and forced to land at a group of docking stations which spiraled out into individual, above-ground platforms. We docked on Platform Twenty of the J8 Spiral and then used an elevator to descend from the center of the station.

Jigen, Labou, Setiawan, and I all stepped into a section of bundled skyscrapers that were mostly filled with varying shades of red light. It was because of the ruby tint coating everything around us that Jigen's blood stains weren't as noticeable, and there were enough of us to avoid outright detection while we hurried past thousands of people getting by either on hoverboards or on foot.

We passed clinics, virtual reality stadiums, brothels with human prostitutes and brothels with robot hookers, beauty stores, fencing tournaments, gun markets, and everything else this Zone had to offer. Just about every product was legal for purchase in Zone E, which itself had caused a lot of growth.

Compared to every other Zone, E contained at least thirty percent of the Citadel's overall population and barely managed to sustain it. The levels of poverty there were (and still are) similar to those in the Lower-City, but it's never had a wealth cap. The wealthiest all lived among the highest towers, far above hordes of advertisements that only meant something to the people who could afford what they were selling.

From above, pollution spilled down in thick clouds, but Zone E's air filtration system sucked in about half of the shit then redistributed it throughout the Lower-City. The farther up you went, the darker it got. There were still just as many people, and what faint light there was illuminated everything from below.

As we closed in on one of the Clan's five cells, with each of the others having been stationed in a separate Zone, I noticed that the people surrounding us began to change.

I smelled smoke, then I smelled piss. Piss, then alcohol and weed. When it all blended together, I got a little nauseated, but watching Jigen stroll nonchalantly past fiending strangers gave me confidence.

Labou himself looked a little disturbed when noticing that there were large gatherings of emaciated beggars all sitting around the same area and watching newcomers carefully. Those who weren't huddled with the onlookers would follow us, but no one had the boldness to try to test Jigen's patience. Jigen made it very apparent that he was traveling with two swords, swaying as he brushed a starving couple out of the way. The man he shoved almost stepped to him—

Jigen made eye contact while nearly unsheathing his right katana. The couple hurried on, which drew even more attention on us.

Little did I know, so many eyes observing our every move would start to mean less as we drew closer to the Arcade. Instead of alleys, we crossed through tight corridors with no lighting and traveled by clearings with those who moved among the shadows.

Closer still, and we began to see our own people. Not our footsoldiers, per se, but there were hundreds upon hundreds of them: nano-freaks.

They were discriminated against. Hated. Looked upon as a nuisance by everyone who hadn't been taken captive.

Because they couldn't always see them, the locals mythologized about grey bugs that turned people into the undead. The thoughts of the nano-freaks revolved solely around the substances they were advertising. Typically, a working citizen would fight the infection before succumbing to it, selling all their possessions and moving closer to a series of stash houses near to the Arcade. After a time, they all shrank in size; they paled, with thin arms and legs but round stomachs that took up most of their bodies. Those who had been around longer took to clutching themselves as they shook, wandering about aimlessly as brand new junkies flocked toward dozens of available dealers.

Both cash and narcotics smugglers dashed around on small, metallic hoverboards. Wherever they stopped, there were typically groups of people decked out in red armor. Back at home, the Father had ordered everyone to stop wearing it until the Bureau's investigation had concluded. But here, reputation trumped everything else.

In that time, there were about ten different gangs vying for broken strips of territory. Before the Meiziki pushed them out, there were sixteen. Those who weren't from the Clan took up residences in small apartments scattered throughout Zone E, and our rivals had, over time, positioned themselves almost completely around us.

With enemies spanning every direction, the Takeda Arcade was utilized as a fortress for our cell. It was crucial to stay attentive; failure to be aware of your surroundings was the biggest mistake you could make.

\----

The Arcade was a weaving network of elongated cube-like buildings, all trailing skyward. Each section contained spacious tunnels that connected to the footsoldiers' barracks at the very top, then a dining hall, a sprawling dojo, and the arcade itself on the lowest floor.

Despite there being swarms of nano-freaks lurking close to the main entrance, the Meiziki established patrols intended for clearing paths toward the Arcade: their main source of income within Zone E. Those who guided in tourists dressed themselves differently, of course, wearing ashen suits, dark sunglasses, and fake smiles while leading them down a path that was perpetually blasted with electronic music.

When the four of us stepped inside, Jigen proceeded ahead while pretending we never existed.

As multi-colored strobe lights glanced the ground at his feet and drunks and junkies took up several dance floors, the Fifth Seneschal rudely moved anyone out of his way. But, before anyone could react to his rude attitude, Meiziki footsoldiers, who adored Jigen, rapidly followed behind their idol with their rifles at the ready.

Although he was an asshole, he did clear the way to the closest elevator. Behind a column housing it, I spotted dozens of glass-encased pods in rows and being used by the Arcade's wealthier customers. Actual arcade games, which had all been turned entirely holographic, lit up with screens scattered along different elevations within the first floor, with users manipulating the same black gloves and footwear that processed actions performed in the outside world.

Once Jigen had increased his distance between us, everyone's attention was then focused our way. Not just that, but additional footsoldiers appeared at our sides, acting as one large security force.

I was young, but, to the bangers around me, I'd crafted an impressive legacy. By just standing near a Seneschal, I was automatically seen as a celebrity; before we'd entered the elevator, along with seven other bodyguards, one of them glanced in my direction and remarked, "Sorry to hear about Mendo, man. You're tough for making it through all that."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'll do a better job of protecting my allies the next time."

"That's the right attitude."

He smiled, but it didn't make me feel any better. On my right, Setiawan nodded to one of his friends.

"Good to see you, brother."

We stepped inside, with the room's eyes still on us as gossiped filled the lobby. Jigen snarled, "Yeah, I'm back!" he shouted at them, then he grinned. "Remember not to piss me off."

The door panels closed although his malice lingered as we ascended higher into the Arcade.

\----

Jigen had two apprentices, Muonsaga and Genzaon, both of whom followed different paths of the sword. Rather than arrange any kind of formal meeting where we could've discussed what'd transpired and what the Father's plan was going forward, Jigen proceeded directly to the Arcade's dojo as if he'd expected something.

The panels opened, we stepped through, and Labou put his hand on Jigen's shoulder. Out of respect, Jigen didn't go for his swords, but his tone was embittered: "What, princess? Did you wanna help me?"

"Fifth Seneschal Jigen, did you have something planned after our meeting with the Father? Don't you know that we've to rendezvous with the local Lieutenants?"

"Lieutenants are scum who haven't made themselves worthy," he replied. "All that matters is the upcoming duel between my pupils.

"Muonsaga, who has observed my every move. Between the two of them, he is the most devoted to my particular style—though I hate imitators. Muonsaga is excellent when it comes to trying to be like me; he dyed his hair blond, then he took to practicing with two swords.

"Genzaon,"—we crossed a tunnel to arrive before two combatants in the midst of prayer, both were dressed in red, plated armor—"he chose another way. He's got a better comprehension of Maia than Muon, and he's used it to his benefit."

"Master Jigen!" Genzaon exclaimed as he got to his feet and bowed.

Muonsaga simply looked up and smirked.

Jigen smiled at them both, then he said, "Are you guys ready?"

"What's going on, Jigen?" Labou asked informally.

Jigen flashed him a grin.

"They've grown past my expectations. I've decided to administer my exam early."

"Your 'exam?' Has the Father been notified of this?"

"Labou," Jigen stared at him darkly, "need I notify anyone? My students are more than ready for a high-stakes bout."

"They're both sixteen, Master Jigen. I don't think they're anywhere near prepared to duel each other in a serious fashion."

"It's NOT a duel," Jigen growled. "Pay attention when I fucking speak to them, Labou!"

The Fifth Seneschal directed his attention toward his students.

"You know what I've come for, right?"

"YES, SIR!" both exclaimed in unison.

"Fifth Seneschal—"

"Labou!" Jigen turned toward him and sneered. "Shut the fuck up! Don't you have other students to train? Why are you bothering mine?"

Labou stared at him for a while, contemplating his options.

Truthfully, none of the Seneschals, other than Ududa, stood a real chance of defeating Jigen in combat. He was the Clan's greatest asset in combat, and so the Fourth Seneschal stood down.

"Very well, Seneschal Jigen. I'll trust your better judgment—Tavon, will you stay? I go to meet my own disciples."

"What exactly is going on?"

"If it came from Jigen's mind, I don't want to know."

"Labou!" I addressed him earnestly, but it was Jigen who answered my question:

"Genzaon and Muonsaga are going to fight each other until one of them is victorious. The stronger will prevail, and the better swordsman will earn the title of Six Seneschal long before Mendo recovers!"

"You want them to try to kill each other?"

Muonsaga drew two blades that were each about the same lengths as Jigen's. Genzaon had brought only an iron hilt with him. Both stood several feet apart, and they looked upon each other with respect. Labou and Setiawan walked away, but I stayed behind because I felt it was necessary. In being the only one left, Jigen glanced back with a look of approval.

"You've got good sense, kid." He smirked. "Things should get bloody real soon. Besides, I only need one student."

\----

Genzaon and Muonsaga looked each other over carefully, with Fifth Seneschal Jigen retaining his smirk before he decided to announce the beginning of the fight.

Genzaon had inscribed a series of mandalas on the ground. When Jigen ordered them to fight, he chanted an unheard sutra while generating grey tau. This tau melded with the vacant hilt and slowly lengthened out. Genzaon's longsword expanded into a broad greatsword, one that had been made sturdier from years of training in the Maia Spectrum. From there, steel fashioned from zol extended even farther. Genzaon, a tall, bulky kid, kept his grip firm while controlling the weight of a gigantic blade.

I didn't know either of them well, but I suspected that Genzaon and Muon had trained with each other for a long time. They acted as if on cue with one another's thoughts, and I heard friendlessness in Muon's tone of voice.

"You might have strength on your side," his katanas quivered at his waist as he spoke with a nervous grin, "but I've been studying the techniques handed down from our mentor nonstop!"

Muonsaga tried to lunge at Genzaon, but the heavyweight soldier swung with a kind of speed none of us had anticipated—he swung at Muon's waist, fully intent on separating his torso from lower half, but Muon surprised us all!

—SHINTE—

Muonsaga moved so quickly that he jumped and swiftly placed his feet upon the far, flat end of the blade. He sprinted along the side, thrusting toward Genzaon's throat.

Before his strike could connect, Muon deliberately lowered his thrust to just barely pierce Genzaon's armor. Genzaon fell onto his back from the impact, and Jigen shouted: "Quit fucking around! Spill his blood, Muon."

Muonsaga hesitated, which allowed his opponent to get to his feet—

Only to charge right into him with the strongest thrust imaginable! Muon jumped, just in time, then, with bated breath, he summoned his ability again:

—SHINTE—

Muonsaga, inheriting true agility, kicked the tip of the blade away from him while sprinting inside of Genzaon's guard. In spite of his ridiculous speed, Genzaon had the mind to swing before Muon could get too close—

Muon hurdled over Genzaon's blade, somersaulted, and wedged Genzaon's neck between his two katanas at the same moment his feet hit the ground. Genzaon breathed in hard, flexed while he considered swinging upward to cut through his opponent's torso, but he stopped...

Jigen shrieked, "Hey fuckhead, what's wrong? KILL him, Muon! Kill him before he kills you!"

I could just see a drop of sweat roll down the side of Muon's head.

"Muon!" Jigen screamed again.

Jigen's pupils looked into each other's eyes. There was a silence punctuated by the Fifth Seneschal approaching his students.

"Muon..." he began, "would you really let a weakling affect your desire to serve me?"

"No, master!" he screamed, tears glistening in his eyes.

"Then KILL HIM, MUON!"

There was little thought put into what he did next. A boy only a little younger than me, Muonsaga, grunted while bringing both of his katanas out...

To follow Seneschal Jigen was to live as Seneschal Jigen: Muonsaga decapitated Genzaon in one move, cutting short the life of the most talented zol-user I'd encountered. Muon kept his eyes shut as blood rained over him, but the Fifth Seneschal corrected that.

Jigen physically forced Muon's eyes open, made him see the headless body of his opponent. The Fifth Seneschal grinned.

"That's what it means to be the Sixth," he said.

\----

The very next day, I was invited to watch a duel between Labou's disciples.

A woman my age, Shanaxagora, clenched her fists as she faced off against Shotobai Higin-oe Niuzk, the kid who would become one of my best friends once I'd gotten to know him better.

Shoto was also fairly skilled at Maia, and the few who were acquainted with him whispered that he repeated one hundred sutras every night. He was somewhat more broad-shouldered than me, which showed the most whenever his upper back glowed red before he produced small, iron plates. Shoto buffed himself up quite a bit, his traps now bulging with groups of blood-red veins.

"My pupils have honed their abilities well," Labou declared proudly as they squared off on a higher elevation just a few feet away from where Genzaon had been killed.

"They don't aim to kill, Tavon," he continued, "they aim to excel, to reach perfection."

Shanaxagora had shaved her head and spread war paint across her cheeks. She was lean, seemingly all muscle, and she stood against Shoto without fear. Shana didn't speak, but her eyes watched his hands.

"The two of you will engage in a regular sparring match. The first one to be struck will be deemed the loser. Be mindful of how many losses you receive as my student..."

Shoto tightly gripped two small plates in his hands and snarled at Shana, "You should give up," he said as his orange bandana came loose and gave way to wild, brown hair. "I've got you beat in both force and range!"

Shana didn't reply; instead, she shifted into a wide stance while steadying her fists in front of herself.

"All right!" Shoto yelled while reeling one plate behind his head to throw. "If you think you stand a chance, I'll crush your dreams right here!"

With tremendous speed, Shotobai flung the iron plate directly at Shana's head!

Shana raised one forearm, absorbed the hit in the middle of it, and then took one step forward right as Shoto threw another.

Shana blocked the second plate using the same method; when both banged against the ground, they dissolved into nothing. Meanwhile, Shotobai generated more of the discs before Shana could advance much farther. His anger shined clearly in his eyes, and he scowled while going on what looked like a throwing rampage.

Shoto sped up his throws, each one remaining as accurate as the next as a rain of metal flew at Shanaxagora.

In response, she used her forearms, wrists, knuckles, and even her knees to bat away whatever he threw. And, every time she knocked away another one, she drew closer.

While she closed the distance between them, Shana tightened up her stance. With her less than fifteen feet away, Shoto's throws got stronger and faster. It was enough for Shana to barely move in time just to block another strike, though it was already unbelievable that she could absorb so many hits without flinching at all. Shana's resilience couldn't be beaten by anyone.

Twelve feet...

Ten...

Shotobai tensed a bit, feeling more antsy the closer she got. He slowed down.

Eight...

A bright red light shone from his upper back, glowing brightly as he reached behind himself with both hands. I watched as Shoto's body swelled slightly; he grunted while taking hold of a larger metal disc, one which couldn't be deflected so easily.

Labou grabbed his arm, then he pressed the barrel of his pistol against Shotobai's temple.

"No more. Master Shotobai, this particular training serves to emphasis a point you must have lost sight of in your anger. Had you thrown that, you'd have most certainly shattered Shana's skull!"

"We're going to kill each other anyways in the end!" Shoto shouted at his mentor as tears welled up in his eyes.

Shanaxagora was silent, though the two of us made eye contact a few times. From a distance, I couldn't tell if her irises were a dark brown or altogether black, but they glimmered from perfectly symmetrical features. Shana's complexion was totally clear; she didn't smile often, but, when she did, it stopped people in their tracks.

"Shoto..." Labou touched his pupil's shoulder. "I've no desire to see either of you killed. On the contrary, I meant to teach you a lesson which Shanaxagora understood several weeks ago.

"You should know that the human body can be trained into higher levels of overall toughness. Ms. Shana knew your plate limit for sparring matches, so she adjusted herself accordingly; Shana requested eight-pound metal plates so that she might become accustomed to how they'd feel were she to attempt to block them."

"What'd you do?" Shoto taunted her, "Beat yourself up with weight discs?"

Shanaxagoras nodded without any hesitation. This caused Shoto to take a step back as he nearly lost his composure against her blank expression.

"S-She's a freak!" Shoto pointed at her in accusation.

On cue, the Fourth Seneschal slapped the back of his head.

"Fool!" Labou yelled. "She prepared herself to face the same attack over and over again, which is exactly what you ended up doing until I stopped you."

"You should've let me throw the bigger plate," he grumbled.

"I would've dodged it," Shana retorted, "then I would've kicked your ass."

"What did you say to me?" Shoto growled while his aura intensified.

"Shotobai! Shanaxagora! Introduce yourself to Modagi's newest pupil, Tavon."

"I know who he is," Shoto glanced at me darkly, "that's the one who botched the op over in Uesugi territory. The only survivor, right?"

"No." I spoke up, still convinced that I'd see my friends again. "There were others."

"Who?"

Shoto stepped toward me, but, this time, Shana stopped him.

"Don't touch me, bitch!"

He punched toward her head, but Shana was too agile. She swayed to avoid the strike, then she moved: Shanaxagora uppercutted Shoto in the gut, and the true extent of her strength was made apparent when his eyes all but popped out of his skull in shock. Shoto froze in place.

Shana stepped away, allowing her companion to buckle over as he fell to his knees while clutching his stomach.

She strode up to me, offered her hand, and I was almost too nervous to speak when her eyes looked straight into mine. Though she was the quiet type, sort of like myself, there was some undefinable expression she always carried. In her eyes, I saw incredible drive coupled with wisdom that normally came from the maturity of age.

"It's nice to meet you," she said with a slight smile.

"Yeah... you too. You're pretty talented."

I felt heat rush to my face. Her stare was intense, and it was hard for me to maintain my composure. Shana smiled wider, but anything else she had to say was cut off by the Fourth Seneschal's announcement:

"The three of you will temporarily become a team, aiding each other in your respective growths as fighters. While I establish a small library on one of the Arcade's higher floors, I'll be expecting that my senior retainers brief Tavon on everything that they've learned.

"From this day forward, you will all look out for each other. And, if you see any of your peers getting themselves involved in dangerous situations, ensure that you interfere and protect them to the best of your ability.

"Tavon, welcome to the Takeda Arcade."

\----

It was in the next few months that I'd receive invaluable training. Alongside Shotobai, who could just about produce an endless array of metal discs, and Shanaxagora, who turned out to be an exceptional martial artist, I got a decent helping of both close and ranged combat experience.

In the mornings, we awoke in private abodes that were attached to a greater room, a private dojo only intended for use by the three of us. For a while, Labou made himself scarce; rather than show his face as often, he'd prep meals for us ahead of time and send a servant down to provide us with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As far as the food goes, the portions were always the same: a generous serving of greens and meat next to bananas, every time. Like Mr. Sensitive, the Fourth Seneschal shared the same obsession with eating bananas as part of every meal.

After breakfast, Shotobai and I would spar while Shanaxagora meditated. He tried using the same plates he had on Shana against me, but that nearly broke my arm when I moved to block the first one.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me!" he complained while ruffling his hair. "You mean I have use even smaller discs? Just how weak are you, kid?"

"I can catch up, dude. I'm just not used to getting heavy things thrown at me."

"Then why did he bring you to us?"

Shana said nothing, her concentration surpassing anything of which we were capable.

"Because he knows that I can beat you up!" I yelled back at him.

"WHAT?"

Shoto prepared a heavier disc than normal, but I stopped him—

"Without using Maia, try to win against me in a real fight."

"Huh?" Shoto looked at me as though I'd just slapped him. "You really wanna duke it out? Right here?"

\----

It ended up being less of a fist fight and more of a wrestling contest. Shoto tried to throw the first punch, but I deflected it and moved faster. I wailed on him with a series of hits, struck him in his ribcage so hard that he winced, then...

He grabbed me. The bastard grabbed me and started trying to tangle me up in techniques I wasn't familiar with. Where I'd come from, most fights ended with someone getting punched or kicked unconscious. Because of Shotobai, I began learning a whole new aspect to close-quarters combat.

The first few times we went at it, Shoto tossed me around the room like a ragdoll. I didn't know what I was doing; I just kept trying to punch him in the face.

This irritated him a lot, which prompted Shoto to eventually ask, "Hey, can't you do anything else? I'm about to choke you out again if you keep throwing these weak punches! Are you that fucking stu—"

I knocked out two of his teeth.

I uppercutted Shoto's jaw with a second strike so heavy that he froze in place for a second as I stood across from him and ready to continue fighting. Shotobai clenched his jaw while blood ran down from the right side of his lower lip. He reached behind him, ready to dash my head in with one toss of a disc.

Shanaxagora was at my side in an instant.

"If you hurt him," she said. "I'll hurt you."

I looked over at her, but Shana's focus was completely on Shotobai, who shook slightly.

Because he wasn't saying anything, she continued for him, "The Fourth Seneschal brought him here, Shoto, because you can't fight to save your own life. What happens when your own skill at Maia starts to drag you down? You can't truly believe that you'll always be able to keep your enemies at a distance?"

"He punched me in the fucking face, Shana!"

"You challenged him, and he met your challenge."

"What the hell is your ability, Tavon? Why did they choose you to replace Mendo?"

I was getting tired of him, so I stepped his way when I spoke, "Because I killed the last head of the Nagao Clan."

Shoto's eyes widened.

"You... you killed a Clan leader? You're my age, and you're telling me you killed a Clan head?"

"It wasn't easy," I replied. "But I had help."

Shanaxagoras nodded, glanced at me, then she looked back at Shoto to address him.

"He's one of us," she said. "I've heard his story, and I believe him."

\----

Out of pride, neither I nor Shoto felt like talking to one another during the next few days—

Not until Shana, being a bigger adult than the two of us, suggested that we enjoy the bottom floor for ourselves.

Past all the arcade games and entertainment for regular tourists, the Takeda Arcade eventually transformed into a paradise for gangbangers representing the Meiziki Clan. There was a private bar scene hidden away upon higher elevations on the first floor. These private areas were blocked off by footsoldiers who were rotated throughout a regular schedule, and they all guarded small carrier wagons which took passengers up to the heights of multiple raised neon blocks lining the topmost portion of the bottom floor.

Atop thick pillars of neon blue, there were loose scatterings of bars and additional dancing areas safeguarded by tall, foam fences. The higher sections were rumored to house some of the Meiziki Clan's strongest drugs, and so the pursuit of these unique fixes caused richer patrons to normally flock to these spots. There were loyal who patrons showed up every night, kept the chase of their vices alive, and expressed it both through drunkenness and through wandering around the top areas aimlessly. At their edges Meiziki thugs stood on guard, sober and vigilant as sapphire-violet strobe lights flickered overhead.

Even though he was still pissed because he'd most likely have to visit Ududa later for a checkup, Shoto didn't have a problem helping me order a drink for the first time. He guided me toward the nearest counter to address a bartender who was garbed in all red:

"Grab us both some Sher-oki," Shotobai shouted while handing over a small chip which contained all the money he had. "Leave my tab open."

The bartender, a guy with a dark beard who was much larger than Shoto, nodded quickly and hurried to prepare club soda mixed with Sher-oki, a white liquor imported from the Elgumbi Republic.

"I only like the hard stuff!" Shoto said while puffing out his chest. "The stuff that makes you a real man, you know?"

I totally didn't know.

Sher-oki is disgusting. My first taste of it wasn't really a taste; instead, the smell burned my nostrils as I coughed it up on the spot.

"C'mon, bro," Shoto exclaimed while patting my back, "you've gotta finish it."

I tried to finish it, but the next sip tasted like death.

"Not like that!" he barked. "You gotta relax your throat a little more."

I tried that, too, but I still spat most of it out, then I coughed for about five minutes.

"All right," Shoto sighed as he called to the bartender, "can we get this 'lady' a glass of Mormo-Sheroki?"

Mormo-Sheroki was made of the same stuff, but it was diluted by a series of flavored drinks intended to make the main ingredient less unbearable.

"It's better," I said.

"You sound like someone from the Mid-City."

"I do?"

"Yes," Shoto replied begrudgingly. "That's weakling shit, Tavon."

"Really? Because I don't like drinking acid?"

"That's not a man's drink," he said.

"I don't think manhood applies to alcohol the way you think it does."

"Oh yeah?" he raised one eyebrow. "Just where did you come from, Tavon? You have any parents?"

"A cruiser smuggling bodies brought me into the Citadel," I said. "That's all I know."

Shoto snickered. "Bullshit. Tell me the truth: you dropped outta school because it was too expensive, right? You got into this scene because it was your only way out?"

"There is no way out," I replied. "This is what I am."

Shotobai paused, then he asked, "What do you mean? You're not normal, are you?"

"Normal?" I asked. "Based on what. We sell, kill, and cheat people based on profit. Nothing we do is normal."

"Right," Shoto said, "But you're different somehow. Did you really come to the Citadel via smugglers?"

I told Shoto my life story. I told him everything because few had really heard the whole of it at that time. To understand me, you had to know what made me, along with the events that helped shaped who I was.

Once I'd finished telling him the truth about my origins, the look on Shoto's face changed.

"You must be joking..." was his initial response, and he followed by ordering a few more shots of straight Sher-oki.

"I'm not." I looked him in his eyes.

His expression changed, surprisingly, to one of understanding. Without questioning my story any further, he accepted me.

"So everything you know is related to fighting? That's why you knocked out my teeth?"

"I didn't mean to. You wanted to fight, didn't explain the rules, and I did my best."

Shoto nodded, thinking to himself as he stared off into the distance.

"You just don't know how the world works, right?"

"I do know how the world works."

"But you didn't grow up normally?"

"I did."

"No, you didn't. You're like me."

"..."

Shoto smiled when I went silent.

"You had it real fucked up, I gather. You made life your own, and that's why you survived."

I heard the sound of a woman screaming.

"You're like me," Shoto said. "Resolute but gone on the inside."

"I think we've been drinking too much."

"Oh?"

I heard the screaming again.

"What is that?"

Shoto leaned in, "What do you mean?"

"I think I hear somebody in pain."

"Psh," Shoto smirked. "Haven't you heard the whores before? They're here for our amusement—"

"What the hell?"

Shoto frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It sounds like someone's really hurting her. Can't you recognize it for yourself?"

Shoto listened keenly.

"You sure you think she's in danger?" he asked me.

I nodded, knowing full well what pain sounded like. "Yeah. Wherever it's coming from, we should stop it."

Shoto got to his feet, but he didn't break eye contact.

"You're not just a dumbass," he said, "you're for real. You really think you can help people."

"Where did you hear it coming from?"

I was too focused to answer his question. I darted in the scream's direction, toward one of the private rooms reserved for the dancers who wanted to make money on the side.

"Wait!" Shoto called after me.

Someone was suffering. With having had so many sudden changes in my life—especially with the absence of Mendo and Abul—I'd been stressed. Despite that, I felt anger. Familiar anger. Her shrieks got louder; it caused me enormous pain to hear them, so I marched faster in their direction.

Suffering asks for a solution. Whether it be quick or slow, I can't help but seek out pain that's worse than mine and try to make it go away...

A woman was being violated in a private room high up on the first floor.

I'm not going into the details. Everyone understands how the worst of the world can be, but I wasn't okay with it. Not then. I felt a surge of anger I hadn't in a long time—maybe because it was justified, maybe because it was real and something that I could sense bolstering the adrenaline in my body.

"Shoto," I looked back at him, "we're going to stop this! C'mon!"

"Tavon!"

Shotobai didn't share my outrage. He thought that all prostitutes filled a role, but his dumbassery didn't hold me back. I came close to Awakening in the very moment I sensed fear. I sensed agony over defenselessness, which enraged me even more when I realized that this defenselessness was being preyed upon. I burst through the shoji leading into the room, grabbed a half-naked stranger by his neck, and threw him against the wall.

Shoto responded by producing a large plate, which he hefted above his head while targeting him as well.

The rapist raised his hands in self-defense, but I already knew what he'd done—still...

In yet another room, I heard another woman's scream. Two of them? What's gotten into these people, I thought. I rushed toward it, but Shoto grabbed my arm.

"Don't you know what working for these monsters entails?" he asked, legitimately astounded at my behavior.

I was sweating, but something inside took over. I'd been through too much to let a reality like this have its way.

"They're hurting them," I said.

I lunged at another of the rapists through the papered walls; my arm expanded to twice its original size, then I swung without thinking. I swung so hard, with my mind on Beatrice, that it didn't register in my mind right away when I broke my target's neck.

Shoto stood at the entrance to the first private alcove, took one look at the first violator, and bashed his head in with a giant disc. With blood splattered across her, the woman who'd originally cried out shrieked before fleeing the scene. Shoto and I made eye contact. We both took a step forward at the same time and shook each other's hands.

"Thanks. I didn't think you'd come through."

"Looks like I didn't have a choice," he grunted. "He would've made a really petty witness."

Meanwhile, each of the sex workers—including the ones who'd been assaulted—were steadily shepherded into what looked like a jazz-themed lounge on an elevated platform with no guardrails near the very top of the first floor. Meiziki soldiers gathered next to them, with one man standing out amongst the rest.

I finally got to see him for myself: Samazoshi.

A kid dressed in a black kimono, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones, paced calmly in front of an organized legion of Meiziki men.

\----

Samazoshi's presence was followed by a black cloud which was perceptible by all around him. To those who'd a general understanding of zol, they could see that he purposefully effused a dark essence around himself. To those with no understanding, they merely stood in awe of his existence without knowing why.

Samazoshi, who consistently wore all black. His eyes were cold, obsidian rocks that stared, like jagged daggers, into the eyes of his own men.

Samazoshi, who was Modagi's second pupil. The one who'd terrified Modagi more than any other student. He wielded no weapons other than his own fists. While he moved, shadows trailed in his wake.

"I've heard reports of disruption. I heard that the disruption is from a source not within your ranks."

Samazoshi examined the women expressionlessly, who all prostrated themselves to show reverence.

"I'd like to know who was attacked and for what reason?"

No one dared to speak.

"Okay." he said in a monotone voice. "I have no problem with silence. Is everyone fine with me sorting through matters on my own then?"

Setiawan appeared at my side.

"Samazoshi," he pleaded, "please don't be too hard on anybody. The tourists we threw out were abusing their privileges, that's all."

"Whoever punished our guests has unfortunately caused the Meiziki Clan to lose some of its revenue. Hmm. That's not good," he replied with no real emotion in his voice.

Samazoshi lined up eight prostitutes who'd been involved with two more clients having made negative departures for a separate issue. He binded their arms behind their backs and gagged them.

"It looks as though disrespect is working its way through the ranks again," he said nonchalantly, "but I don't know why. Why anger the denizens who keep this business profitable? Prostitutes, do you realize what purpose you serve?"

"Yes, master," they replied in unison.

Samazoshi broke one of their necks.

The rest screamed, backing away from him although his expression remained just as empty as before.

"I always find disturbances to be an aggravating waste of time. They disrupt the Meiziki's flow of income, and that's intolerable to consider for very long. I ask that one of you indicate the disruptor. Once they have been pointed out, I'll have no further business here."

While Samazoshi's face stayed blank, both Shoto and I began to panic on the inside—Shoto more so since he'd been messing around with several of them himself and didn't want to see anyone else hurt. No one said a word.

Samazoshi dashed to the right. He snapped another girl's neck, and that caused the rest of the sex workers to flee in terror. Meiziki bodyguards trained their weapons on the survivors, but both Shoto and I ordered them to stand down.

Samazoshi didn't seem annoyed at all by their escape. He stared ahead, contemplating what he'd witnessed.

"I'll ask again: who is the one who caused the disruption?" he asked aloud, not looking at anyone in particular.

I didn't know him well, but the others around me breathed faster whenever he edged closer. Samazoshi was my age, but he didn't seem to have the same set of emotions I did. The truth was as clear as the blank canvas that was his disturbingly doe-eyed face.

"I want to know who managed to overwhelm two of my own men. Do you realize that this speaks to a weakness inside of the Meiziki Clan?"

No one responded, but everyone acknowledged his quickness. He was an intimidating guy, but I felt that I had to step to him. In the Meiziki Clan, morality was dictated by those in control. Samazoshi had no problem with abusing and killing people, but I did.

I clenched my fists as though they were the solution I'd been looking for. He made eye contact with me, but if I'd piqued his curiosity at all it didn't show.

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyelids opening wider as he did.

"I'm Modagi's student," I said, "Tavon."

"If so, then why did you bother our customers? What problems did you have with them?"

"The same problems I have with you."

Samazoshi took a step closer. "Oh?"

He didn't blink.

"You killed them like it was nothing!" I burst out, but I tried my best to hold back my anger.

"Tavon!" Setiawan put his hand on my chest to keep me from confronting him. "Yo, man! Don't start this—"

"You just see them as revenue? You killed them because they wouldn't let themselves be abused?"

Samazoshi said nothing. It felt like he was making fun of me by not acknowledging what I'd said, and everyone else staying silent didn't help. I got angrier.

"Tavon, man," Setiawan started again, "let's just take it easy. You're both Modagi's pupils."

"Oh!" Zoshi's eyes lit up creepily. "You're Mendo's replacement? That's very interesting...

"Tavon," he spoke to me as Setiawan backed away, "why did you join the Meiziki Clan? I'm curious, why would you make it this far in the organization only to show everyone that you're really a coward? A coward who's let basic feelings overwhelm hi—"

"Shut up!"

I sprang, full speed, at Samazoshi, reeling one fist back and flexing my arm while I moved before he could say another word. Still, his eyes didn't shake; they watched me.

I threw a solid punch his way, and—

He used one hand: Samazoshi grabbed my fist. He halted my momentum.

We faced each other briefly. I saw... I saw nothing. I looked into black eyes that betrayed no thoughts or visible emotion. Without skipping a beat, I leapt back, withdrawing my fist before he could do anything else.

Samazoshi remained in place. He turned his outstretched palm skyward, then he collapsed it into one finger that he used to taunt me.

"Try again," he said earnestly.

I strengthened my stance, remembering to generate most of my punching power from my legs. I stepped in, stepped back—stepped in again when spotting a better opening. I moved faster:

I punched at Samazoshi—

He caught this one, too, but the force from my attack caused his feet to slide across the ground.

"Hmm."

I threw a hook with my other fist, and he caught it. I jumped, tried to kick out, but Samazoshi swung me to the left and threw me—

I landed on my feet, then I boosted forward: I rained a series of punches on Zoshi, concentrating with everything I had. I swung hard with my right while trying to weave as I jabbed with my left. When I moved inside his guard, Samazoshi just stepped away, all the while catching every single attack. The more I tried, the more he chuckled, like he couldn't have been more amused.

"Dammit!" I screamed sending the strongest hook I could muster—

Zoshi slammed my fist into the ground at his feet; he kicked me in the head, then he stepped back again as I hit the ground.

I rapidly got up, positioning myself to fight again, but he didn't bat an eye. I kept swinging, too stubborn to quit. I couldn't understand how he could be so calm—how he could so easily stop me in my tracks without breaking a sweat. There was no way he could be this powerful.

I cried out and swung; he caught it, as I'd expected, then I kicked at his stomach. Zoshi grabbed my leg reflexively. He pivoted, flexed his abs, and threw me against the ground. My back and neck absorbed the impact. It hurt like hell, but my anger, as it'd done in the past, kept me from feeling too much of it.

My adrenaline swelled...

Setiawan was there to help me up. He laughed as he said, "You did good, man, but you've gotta stop."

"I won't. This guy's full of tricks, but that won't stop me."

"Look,"—he slapped a heavy hand of warning on my shoulder—"you did better than most of us. Stop before he kills you."

I pushed him.

I pushed Setiawan away, ready to fight him, too—but he simply stepped back while throwing up his hands in surrender. Samazoshi smirked as he observed my actions.

"You are certainly no replacement for Mendo," he said, and that was it.

I launched myself at him, unable to handle his attitude any longer, which itself seemed to at last take Zoshi by surprise. His hands reached out for mine, like two serpents waiting to sink in their fangs. I turned my fist into a sideways palm; I chopped, barely swatting away one of Samazoshi's hands by striking under his wrist—

His eyes changed. They widened, exposing a feeling I recognized: shock. I threw a false hook with my right again, which left Samazoshi's remaining hand in play as it moved to catch my fist. Instead of following through with the attack, I transferred my momentum into a knee thrust toward his abdomen—

Samazoshi redirected his grab to stop my knee in place, then I sent a clean punch at a new opening, his face.

Zoshi's neck reacted before his eyes or head: it lengthened and twisted to the left, away from what I thought was a clear strike; my fist soared to catch nothing but air.

Samazoshi's head readjusted itself; his eyes looked back at me.

I felt fear, then...

One punch to the gut.

One to the face.

Everything went black.

2

Summer

\----

Tavon

\----

Samazoshi destroyed me one-on-one, and it was because he'd reached a whole other level. Those who knew him better than me called him "Zoshi," and I came to reference him this way later on whenever recalling the only match we'd ever had.

While I trained with Labou's pupils, Shana and Shoto, I didn't happen to encounter him again before he left. Modagi summoned Zoshi back to headquarters for "advanced training." I knew I wouldn't get a chance for a rematch as soon as I wanted, so I was more than a little disappointed.

Moreover, I'd forged a bad reputation from having lost, and so there were those who felt more confident now in trying to take my spot...

\----

In the dead of Summer, the Takeda Arcade hosted a tournament between all members of the local cell. Aspiring thugs were encouraged to participate and to climb the rankings, hopefully with a shot at one of us. Meanwhile, we were all expected to excel in combat above the regular competition. This special tournament would be spotlighted as the Arcade's main event as well as a strong endorsement for the Clan's primary methods of gaining wealth in the Citadel.

The Meiziki Clan utilized their own cryptocurrency, an alternative form of cash that was digitalized and encrypted. Labou once told me that the Clan's server privacy was protected because its actual location was housed in the World Below, far from the Federation's main network. Their cryptocurrency, called "shij'nga," was how they managed to spread their influence without tipping off Federation officials. Also, because most of the drug trade had moved to private, online transactions, the Meiziki had toppled weaker empires by increasing the value of their form of currency quicker.

In general, the existence of every enterprise in the Clan had to be justified with the gain of more shij'nga, which was all the Father truly cared about. The Arcade Tournament drew the attention of gamblers from around the Mid-City, promising more than decent returns once the event was over.

A show of force would not only boost sales and expose more people to the "less corrupted" nano-freaks, who made a user's first trip seem like a nice dream, but it would also strengthen our presence in the area. If our numbers kept expanding, we'd have a chance at taking Zone E for ourselves and ranking up in what was progressively becoming the Father's vision of an empire. The goal for every pupil was the same: to make the journey to the top while pioneering the fastest growing enterprises within the Citadel. I had a bright future ahead of me...

And that's why I was ambushed on my way to officially sign up as a fighter in the tournament.

\----

I was on foot, moving with great strides while the Arcade loomed in the distance. The alleyway I was using was so wide that it created the perfect hiding place for a group who'd scattered themselves among multiple open corridors to my left and right.

A group of Meiziki footsoldiers, coupled with two or three enforcers, stepped out of the shadows.

"You're Modagi's pupil, right? Aren't you on your way to the tournament?" one of the enforcers asked.

"I'm dressed for it, aren't I?"

And so were they: all of us wore the same red kimonos to show the solidarity we felt in furthering the Clan's interests. Red could hide bloodstains, which helped conceal any inward weaknesses. Although the enforcers themselves didn't openly carry weapons, their loyal footsoldiers all wielded either metal pipes, bats, or switchblades.

As he continued to prattle on, I tied my sleeves back.

"If the Seneschals are our gods, then their students might as well be our apostles. Do you know how much we worship you guys?"

"..."

I focused subtle contractions throughout my arms. I widened my stance just a bit and slowed down my breathing.

"I heard you were there when we took the fight to the Ueusugi. You stood with Mendo, didn't you?" he raised his eyebrows as if he was impressed.

"I did."

"Heh," he chuckled, "that's even better..."

The enforcer reached inside of his kimono—

I clamped my hand down on his arm. Down from where I'd grabbed him, he held a gun in a grip that turned more and more shaky as he stared back at me.

"Y-You knew?"

The enforcer raised his eyebrows innocently but didn't let up. He resisted, so I headbutted him. I smashed my head against his face before he could say another word, then he dropped to the ground.

The one with the pipe came my way first, the next enforcer close at his side. He swung, and I darted to his left side reflexively. I drove my heel into his knee joint, forced his leg inward, then struck him with a decent jab to the head—

I pivoted, turned my heels slightly, rammed my elbow into his ally's head so hard his neck snapped, then—

A switchblade came for my eyes. I tilted my head to the side as it sliced a shallow cut across my cheek.

The bat followed. My attacker swung at the back of my head. I ducked and darted forward—right into another enforcer's hands. He tried wailing on me, which I was able to block up until the thug with the switchblade ran at me with broader strokes. I backstepped, but the one holding the bat cut off my escape route; I was surrounded...

The enforcer who'd swung at me stepped out of the way of a gunman I hadn't seen, a regular footsoldier whose eyes locked with mine as he steadied his finger on the trigger. The bat-wielder prepped himself to swing at me from behind again.

Bright red came next.

The gunman's head exploded into a wave of black and crimson as an iron disc soared through it.

Someone else made their entrance: before another gunner could take his shot, a woman lunged at him and punched the rifle out of his hand.

Shanaxagora appeared, and she followed by crushing his throat with one chop. Shana forced him to spit up blood before she sent him crashing to the ground with a single jab. Shotobai strode closer, two more plates readied in both hands.

"Stand down." Shana ordered them.

They rest of the bangers who'd attacked me hesitated, then they all broke off into a run. Before Shana could give chase, Shoto yelled: "Stop! There's no point!"

Shana turned back, fire in her eyes.

"They've committed treason! We can't let th—"

"This is how our world works, Shana! Don't you understand?"—he flipped off the cowards as they left—"We scared the shit out of them, and now they'll go back and tell everyone they know. The lower-level guys are supposed to envy us! That's part of the game. But, if we can show them that we're just as strong as the Seneschals, then that envy will turn to worship, like they worship them!"

"This is unacceptable!" was all she could say before Shana turned to try to pursue them again—

"He's right," I said. "Shana..."

She stopped and then looked at me directly and without scowling the way she did at Shoto.

"I dishonored myself by losing to Zoshi. They wanted me, and it's because they believed I was the weakest student."

"Nonsense!" Shoto interrupted, "Everyone knows that Shikami's the weak—"

"Shut up!" Shana glared at him then quickly met my eyes again as I continued:

"We just proved to them that we're all capable fighters, so they'll have to do a lot better the next time—if there even is a next time..."

\----

I didn't mind so much that guys from my own gang had tried to off me. I knew that, from now on, traveling alone anywhere would come with consequences, but this also provided me with new opportunities to prove myself. At the tournament, everyone would find out if I could hold my own. Everyone would be watching, so I had to make it clear to them that it would stupid to fuck with me in the future.

\----

My first opponent was Setiawan.

Everyone started out within the lower brackets, facing off against randomly selected opponents atop both the highest and broadest raised platform within the Arcade. While groups of us waited outside miniature versions of a large, neon boxing ring staged at the platform's center, conmen tried to get us to gamble on our own odds. People passing by offered to buy us drinks after it was all over, and several members of the crowd had already taken to placing bets as they started getting tipsy. Rapid-paced electronic music played faintly in the background when the time came for my initial match.

Setiawan nodded, then he offered his hand out of genuine respect. I took it, and we shook before a female announcer shouted:

"BEGIN."

We put our hands up. As I formed a southpaw stance, leading with my left, Setiawan did the opposite. In that moment, when looking over his posture, I realized that he understood the basic principles the other footsoldiers I'd fought didn't.

When he threw a hook, I weaved under it. I didn't strike—not yet, because the goal here was to seek out reliable openings, to get down his particular pattern of fighting.

Setiawan jabbed again and again; I responded by angling my upper body to evade what felt like slow attacks, but a quicker strike arrived at the end of his assault. He went for the only opening, a spot I hadn't checked as I'd kept my focus too high.

Setiawan jabbed, I blocked, he gasped, then he jumped back. I pursued him and punched at his head! He put up his left forearm to block me, and—

Crack. His forearm bent slightly inward, popping as it did...

Setiawan looked at me in shock, but I was more surprised than him—even when he fell to his knees and clutched his broken arm. He shook, unable to look at me.

"I... surrender." he said.

The crowd was hysterical, regular footsoldiers began chanting the name, "Tavon! Tavon!"

\----

As it turns out, Shikami had arrived from our headquarters to participate, but no one could truly testify as to what exactly he was capable of. I hadn't seen him before my match, but I recognized him in the group that came after me as the only fighter wearing a pair of glasses when he was called for the fourth matchup.

The announcer addressed him, "Hey! You're going to have to take those off if you're willing to risk getting punched in the face!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Shikami gently removed them and then tucked them neatly into the opening of his kimono, which wasn't much safer.

His opponent, a dude with curly, brown hair and a wild bear which covered most of his face, looked baffled when witnessing Shikami for himself.

"Hey kid," he asked, "am I fucking funny to you or something? Have you ever been in a fight, you idiot?"

Shikami didn't reacted with no emotion—"Your assumption is quite correct," he said. "I've never put my hands on anyone, although I have taken a few beatings in my lifetime."

"Heh! You don't look like much, kid, and they chose you to study under them? Bah, it's gotta be bullshit—who'd your mother fuck to get you here, little boy?"

Shikami said nothing.

The match referee shouted: "BEGIN!"

Shikami's opponent charged at him, unable to wait any longer for his imminent victory. Meanwhile, Shikami reached inside his kimono and retrieved something I couldn't see. His enemy threw a punch at his jaw, and Shikami backed away while crushing whatever it was with one hand. He grinned.

Shikami tossed a flurry of yellow spores at his opponent, who was breathing hard enough to take in a decent helping of them before he knew what was going on.

"What the..." Shikami's opponent halted.

He started sneezing. The fourth time he sneezed, a coughing fit overtook him. He grabbed his throat when he found that he couldn't breathe at all, and...

Small, fungoid heads sprouted from his neck, producing small streams of blood in their wake.

The announcer noticed this at the same time I did; she screamed: "SHIKAMI, YOU'RE DISQUALIFIED!"

\----

Shikami couldn't exactly disappear back into the crowd after what he'd just shown everyone.

Instead, his opponent, whose condition had ceased except for leaving behind dark toadstools on his neck, moved to attack him from behind—

Meiziki Clan members, from all around, drew their guns and coerced him out of provoking Shikami any further.

"Leave the freak alone, dammit, before he curses us all!"

While those in the crowd eyed him suspiciously, a group of bodyguards took it upon themselves to escort Shikami safely outside of the Arcade...

And I followed them.

\----

"Shikami, that was incredible."

"Tavon? Don't you have to fight someone else before you advance to the big ring?"

"How did you do it?" I asked him earnestly.

"I didn't do anything," he replied.

"I saw what happened back there—why did you want to be disqualified? Can you not fight?"

"That's correct. Indeed, I cannot fight, and so I didn't."

"Ududa taught you an ability, didn't she?"

"No, Tavon."

Shikami made eye contact, still smiling. He looked away, then he kept on: "I merely wanted to test out something. I wanted to see the truth for myself."

"The truth? Shikami," I said, "you know you can trust me. Why don't you just explain?"

"Because I've someone to protect, and that should be explanation enough. Now, the Meiziki will fear me the way they should. I've managed to accomplish both of my goals today, so I must return to Ududa."

"Shikami!"

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"If you're going to go so soon, then please tell me that you'll explain when I see you again."

"If the situation warrants a proper explanation, Tavon, then I will. For now, I'll let you go with this little tidbit of information, something I discovered about zol itself.

"I'm not sure if you're familiar with the term 'neovascularization,' but it is essentially the process of the body forming new blood vessels in response to poor perfusion or ischemia, which is a severe blockage of blood flow to the heart. Neovascularization can happen in response to a traumatic injury or a stroke as well.

"Sometimes neovascularization can harm; sometimes it can make a system more efficient. It's a product of human evolution, which, I believe, has extended into the world of today. In short, the humans walking this present Earth have undergone a drastic change from what our species used to be.

"Tavon, there is the concept of different forms of mass as well as energy, then there is currently literature concerning what is known as Xonal Mass: subatomic particles which imitate organic life. According to what I've read about the process, this life strains to represents itself via neovascularization—that is, branches resembling human arteries fuse with subatomic particles, forming a network that shows itself in various patterns depending on each individual."

I tried to process everything he was saying, but, to be honest with you, Shikami was probably the most intelligent person I'd ever met, and I didn't understand.

"What are you really trying to say to me, dude?"

"Tavon," Shikami's looked at me darkly, "when someone's aura consists of convoluted networks, like yours for instance, it's not a good sign.

"Additionally, the network trying to form itself around your body shifts; it flows in and out, unsteadily, like it wishes to burst. It's clear to me that you've got potential, but this potential could engulf you at any moment. Tavon, because your Awakening is so close at hand, I must advise that you not proceed any further with the tournament."

"What? Are you kidding?"

"Absolutely not. If your power manifests itself in the wrong way, you could seriously hurt someone."

"I can't give up now that I've started. I've gotten better, Shikami; people are in there cheering for me and placing bets on my name—my name!"

"But would it do you any good if you accidentally killed someone? Wouldn't that disqualify you?"

"Hmph."

I turned my back to him.

"I'm not going to go that far."

"Like you did when those thugs ambushed you? Everyone already knows about how well you handled yourself. You don't have to keep trying to defend who you are."

I kept walking.

"If I want to be a Seneschal, then I won't give up just because I'm scared of myself. I'm going to win this."

\----

Shanaxagora fought Jigen's pupil, Muonsaga, and, whereas Shana's focus had been on strength and technique, Muon's prowess was solely based on his speed. At that time, discussions were still being had as to whether or not Muon was worthy of being named the Sixth Seneschal. With that in mind, he gave it everything he had.

Shana would trade one solid blow for three rapid strikes from Muon in most of their exchanges. She had one asset Muon didn't.

Shana was tough. She might've had a higher pain tolerance than me; as an added advantage, her main focus had always been on hand-to-hand combat.

They fought for at least thirty minutes, slowly drawing out each other's weaknesses.

Muonsaga collapsed before he could keep going, which left Shana victorious but also exhausted. She carried this exhaustion into her later rounds, and Shana narrowly managed to avoid losing via submission in her second-to-last round. Once she'd moved up to the main ring, Shanaxagora was given a much-deserved break.

\----

As for me...

I had to fight three more guys:

The first took a straight hook to the face; I dropped him on the spot.

I brought down the second with a jab, which tore one of his pectorals on contact.

The third surrendered. He took one hard look at me, then he bowed and walked away.

I won every match. Simultaneously, my reputation suddenly had no upper limit. By my second match, bets on my name had been assured. My "sponsors" offered me shots, but all I wanted was to smoke. They cheered me on, sure, but their yelling grew old pretty fast.

The semifinals, as well as the final match itself, were what mattered. All the weight my name currently carried would mean nothing if I lost in my first matchup in the big ring.

Like many had predicted, the last bouts came down to the students of the Clan's Seneschals. After Shanaxagora made an unexpected comeback, totally demolishing her opponent by slamming her knee into his chin, the time came for my match against the only remaining fighter: Shotobai.

\----

"Listen, T, just because I consider you a close friend doesn't mean that I'll go easy on you."

Shoto tied back the sleeves on his kimono, and I copied him.

"I'd be angry if you did."

"That's right!" He grinned. "This is it—we've gotta show our soldiers how it's done!"

The bets placed equaled about fifty-fifty, with slightly more in my favor. I figured they were wrong: Shoto was stronger than I was, and so I braced myself for the worst while I remembered witnessing the Fourth Seneschal fight for the first time. Labou was an incredible fighter, which meant that his students were expected to be on a different level from everyone else.

"BEGIN!" the match referee shouted.

We approached each other the same way Setiawan and I had: fists in front and poised to shift in response to sudden movement. Shoto wasn't a wrestler, and neither was I.

He threw quick, heavy jabs. I blocked by raising my left forearm but didn't let their impacts push me back. I felt patience overtake my demeanor. I let Shoto throw two more punches, then an opening presented itself.

I sent a solid strike into Shoto's sternum!

He coughed, staggering back. Right after that, he went mad with rage. Shoto gritted his teeth, disbelief conquering reason. He lunged at me and swung overhead, but I blocked again by crossing my arms. Shoto followed with a series of uppercuts aimed at my stomach, and I struck him in the face just as his second hit connected.

Shoto fell to the ground.

The crowd around us gasped but quickly turned quiet upon seeing him get to his knees. I wouldn't dishonor him by attacking when he was down, so I waited with fists at my sides.

"You've—you've got a strong right, bro. Heh! I didn't expect that..."

Shoto's expression became grim. He tensed himself, changing his attitude to that of a hardened warrior, then he said to me: "I can't let myself stray from the Way, Tavon. Please, don't hold back."

He readied his fists—"I can take you!" Shoto cried.

He edged closer, searching more strategically as I kept my hands up. Shoto feinted with a few punches while trying to test my perception: he reached low, as if he were going for another uppercut, but pulled back, expecting me to lower my guard.

But I'd been hit enough to gauge where my opponent's strikes would ultimately land.

Shoto threw a haymaker at my head—

I pushed against the inside of his arm with one hand and then grabbed his neck with my other.

With ease, I threw him to the ground, nearly dashing his head in the process. Shoto rolled as he came down; before he could get up, I flanked him from behind and locked my arms around his neck, one pressing into his throat while the other forced his neck against it.

Shoto tapped out.

\----

By the time Shana and I had to fight each other, we were both tired.

When I stepped into the ring, something didn't feel right. I was uneasy—no, that wasn't it. I recognized this feeling, but I hadn't experienced it in so long.

I was nervous. Not the usual kind of nervous.

I looked into Shana's eyes and had to stop for a moment. She was more bruised up than I was, but Shanaxagora stayed stoic. I couldn't help but swallow hard while trying to collect my thoughts.

The announcer started: "BEG—"

"W-Wait!" I managed to get out.

The crowd got quiet.

"Shana..."

"What's wrong, contestant?" the announcer put me on the spot with this question.

"Tavon?" Shana eyed me suspiciously.

"Hey, uh..." I started, freezing for a second, "Could we go out some time? Like, could we get food together and maybe talk—"

"Are you serious?"

Her eyes immediately looked even bigger. My nerves got worse now that everyone was waiting for an answer.

"Hmph."

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes while looking away.

"Maybe if you let me win. I'd rather shower than fight another student."

Shana looked back at me, and we smiled at each other.

\----

"Tavon, I don't expect you to pay."

"Why not?"

I didn't understand.

"Tavon..." We met each other's eyes, like kindred spirits. "I've got it."

Within Zone E, there were plenty of restaurant chains based around different cultural foods. Shana had suggested Mi'Idil, which itself catered to the tastes of the Hayashi. I didn't recognize the names of anything on the menu, but she'd told me that it was all unique types of seafood. Mi'Idil took its inspiration from a country in the far South, one that occupied both a deep canyon as well as an underwater citadel.

"I won, Tavon, so, if anyone, it should be me who pays."

"But I don't accept charity," I said.

"Ugh." Her faced reddened a bit. "Men all say the same things. Can't you just take help when it's offered?"

"Don't you think you deserve a paid meal after fighting so many of us—you know, since we're all the same? I'm sure dealing with Muon and I was a headache—"

"Be quiet. We didn't fight, and you're never a headache, Tavon."

She smirked, then she ordered for me when the waiter finally came by. I still didn't know what I was getting, but she claimed it was "the best."

"Tavon, why do you only use your fists when in combat? Do you know how to use any other weapons?"

"No."

"For real?" She raised an eyebrow then shook her head. "It's not that I'm criticizing you—because it looks like that's served you well—but I just wondered why you only trust your fists."

Shana leaned forward, resting her chin in both hands.

"I guess it's part of how I was raised," I replied, blushing a bit now that her attention was totally on me. "I'm not very good at anything other than fighting strangers barehanded."

"Is that what you like?"

"Hmm..."

I thought about her question.

"Not necessarily. I like how I feel when I'm engaged by somebody tough or somebody who can show me what I don't know. I learn the most about people through how they fight, if that makes any sense."

"It does. After watching me compete, what does my fighting say about my character?"

I had to be cautious with how I responded here. I didn't want to offend her, but there was definitely an image in my mind of who she really was.

"You've got a whole lot of discipline, but it's strange..."

"Why?"

"You were born in the Lower-City, weren't you?"

"Yes."

I nodded.

"You're graceful when you fight. You can tell that your mind isn't affected by fear at all. I've never seen anyone with so much control over their own emotions. Where did you grow up?"

Shanaxagora smiled. "Most likely nowhere near you...

"My full name is Shanaxagora Odoya, of the Odoya Clan."

"No way!" I hesitated, but I couldn't help but keep asking. "The Odoya Clan's still around?"

"No, silly." She shook her head. "I'm the niece of its original leader, however. He agreed to sell me into the service of Mosashi Monks so that he could save me from the Father's paranoia."

"So, the Father..."

"He destroyed my family. Yes."

"Shana, I'm sorry."

"Can you really be?" She looked into my eyes as she asked this.

I crossed my arms under the table as I looked down to gather my thoughts.

Our food arrived:

The Sizujimma Special, which was a platter of horned shells you were supposed to open using sharp, steel stakes. Once forced apart, the shell steamed and produced the aroma of seasoned meat. A charred, steak-like texture presented itself, topped with what seemed like pearls but what were really edible orbs that contained a type of sweet jelly.

I was so overwhelmed by the scent of the Sizujimma that I forgot to respond.

"Tavon—"

"Were you taken captive by the Meiziki?"

"No."—Shana took a bite—"I joined of my own volition. I thought the same way you did: that this would be the best way to establish a legacy for myself."

"A legacy?"

"Is that not what you want, too?"

I'd never really considered what it meant to leave behind something of yourself. In a city where I didn't matter, I'd never seriously thought about my fate, much less a future.

"I want to keep getting stronger. I know that sounds basic, but it's honestly my sole interest. If I'm strong, I don't have to hurt anymore."

"You think so, huh?"

Shana leaned back.

"The Mosashi Monks trained me in defensive martial arts, but they never let me read their fancy scriptures. It didn't matter; I stole some of them anyways."

I laughed, but Shana was dead serious.

"Tavon," she said, "how loyal are you to the Father? I heard that you betrayed your master?"

"I've never been good with authority, so I guess I can't say I like him."

"That's the best thing I've heard someone tell me in a while."

"Why is that?"

Before she could answer, someone barged through the restaurant's front entrance.

\----

Standing amidst terror experienced from all around, it was like an ominous aura had invaded reality without warning.

Jigen's eyes stared back at me from the face of the menace himself.

"Come," was all he said, then he turned around with the expectation that I would follow.

Shana nodded curtly. "Do it," she whispered.

\----

Jigen had one of the Arcade's upper levels cleared out for a "lesson" he claimed he had prepared for me. At Jigen's insistence, every footsoldier moved with absolute haste.

He led me into a barren, white room. Once inside, he ordered his bodyguards to "Fuck off." The Fifth Seneschal paused, waiting for them to leave. After they had, he addressed me without looking my way.

"Kid," he said, "do you know why you're here?"

"No."

He exhaled hard through his nostrils.

"I sent my pupil, Muon, to compete in the Arcade Tournament, what was supposed to be a stupid joke of a competition."

Jigen snarled, "But he failed me. I'm angry with him. Very angry, kid, and so I've asked him to leave for a while—at least until I can, heh, get it together, you know what I mean?"

The Fifth Seneschal was practically drooling when he managed to at last look my way. His eyes turned to black spirals that spit flames the color of coal.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were so powerful, Tavon?"

"I'm not powerful, sir."

"You could've won, and Muon didn't lose by choice. Do you know what this means?"

"I—"

Jigen slashed my right cheek open.

Before I'd even had time to process it, he'd already drawn both of his katanas and aimed the other toward my gut. I backed away, but he moved faster. He cut my other cheek and drove his heel into my stomach, pushing me to fall against the ground. I quickly got to my feet, just as Jigen said to me, "I need to perform an assessment of you because Old Man Modagi obviously couldn't bother to see for himself."

Jigen moved—

—The point of his blade pierced my shoulder—

He slashed a shallow cut across my chest, then Jigen stalked me as I tried to put up my fists. If I moved too recklessly, he might cut off a hand or arm to spite me.

"When Muon was introduced to my school of swordsmanship, he was inducted via one hundred cuts. Tavon, I've witnessed your strength..."

—He created two more shallow slits across my jawline on opposite sides—

"And so, I'll induct you with two hundred cuts!"

Those were the last words he said before commencing what became hours of real torture. Jigen tripped me up every step of the way; he was too fast for me to counter him effectively, and every attempt to do so left me with more wounds. Over time, streams of my own blood covered me; blood ran down from my forehead, got in my eyes.

Jigen enjoyed it. The sick freak enjoyed every last bit of it. There was no reason as to why he had to keep cutting me. It was abuse, and part of me hated the Father for allowing someone like this to do as they pleased. My anger got so bad that every wound felt like it was burning with the same rage I was experiencing on the inside. I wanted to hurt him for everything he'd done, but I didn't want to ruin what station I already had in life.

I chose to give in. I stopped feeling both his blades as well as the fear that came with thinking about them. I made peace with my anger. I vowed, in my heart, to kill the Fifth Seneschal once I'd caught up to him in terms of ability.

\----

When he'd finished with me, I was barely conscious. I'd thought that I imagined Ududa appearing at my side and looking me over with concern.

"Oh dear," she said, "was this your usual administering of a hundred cuts, Fifth Seneschal?"

"He took it like a little bitch."

Jigen ignored her and left the two of us without another word.

"My, my, he's done quite a number on you. Poor boy," Ududa spoke with sympathy, "I'll ensure that you survive, but I cannot shield you from the pain you will come to feel..."

\----

A week after my encounter with the Fifth Seneschal, he left for the Meiziki Clan's headquarters and took Muonsaga with him. When Ududa had asked him about my worthiness as a potential student of his, Jigen had replied: "If the shithead can't wield a sword properly, then I have no use for him."

Ududa was more caring.

"My dear," she said to me before she departed without her pupils, "you have a strong soul, indeed. Regardless of what others might have to say, it is you who survived the calamity which resulted in the destruction of the Uesugi Clan. You've improved, and so I will hand care of both Shikami and Osotone over to you.

"Child, I expect you to show them the ways of combat, as others have shown you. Teach them what they haven't yet discovered for themselves. Please."

\----

Shikami took over my recovery. Just like the Second Seneschal said, the worst of the pain came after, and it didn't subside for days. If I made the wrong movement, it meant tearing open dozens of fresh scabs, but Shikami and Osotone were there to keep me company.

"When I speak of one's aura, Tavon, I'm really talking about the ethereal neural pathways which have formed around a particular individual's center.

"Aura manifests as tau, and yours, for instance, manifests as tightly-bound waves of tau networks. In fact, they're so clustered together that I believe it signifies something more important about your inner nature."

"I still don't understand."

"Umph!" Osotone uttered, scaring both of us.

She was standing behind me again, stalkerish but not as hostile this time.

Osotone was an observer. In what would become regular training sessions, I sparred with Shikami while Oso watched. I was too afraid to engage her one-on-one, and soon I'd find out why I'd been so hesitant to teach her in the first place.

"Not so long ago, there were others like me who really investigated the potential of human consciousness. They used the term 'neuroplasticity' to refer to the phenomenon of regular people bringing out the raw power of their own genes."

"Genes?"

Shikami smiled. "I mean the coding structure which makes up your entire body, Tavon—which is also the same structure that contributes to the type of tau Osotone emits."

She touched me; Oso's chest opened: from her sternum, flesh parted to reveal a black hole lined with writhing teeth. From within, small, golden spores sprayed out. I saw them drifting my way and rushed to Shikami's side at once.

"What the hell is happening to her?"

"OSOTONE!" Shikami roared to keep her from following me.

He then patted my back, making his expression cheerful again.

"She's the reason why I've been able to stay alive this long, Tavon."

"What?"

I asked too soon, because it already started to make sense. The abyss in Osotone's chest sealed itself; while it closed, she ran away like an embarrassed kid.

"I think she was curious about you," Shikami remarked, "and thus she sent out her spores to try to get a 'feel' for your personality. I'm the same way, of course, but I do so by asking questions. Her method is more... personal."

"What is she?"

Shikami frowned and touched his ear as he went on explaining: "She's human, Tavon, like you and me. Osotone Awakened earlier than she should've, but she persevered...

"She persevered, and, well,"—Shikami gestured to her as she tried to hide from us in a dark corner—"Osotone has become someone quite spectacular. She changed in a way that continues to grow, and that's why I trusted in her ability to protect me when I entered the Arcade Tournament."

"You really didn't do anything on your own?"

"Besides dodge? No. Osotone's affinity is hyphae-like. She can spread her tau in small roots—roots of Maia, I'll add—and they may each perform a separate function. I'd suggest you look into the origins of toadstools—"

"I don't have time for that, Shikami."

"Right," he sighed. "Osotone has developed a very particular specialization. While her individual branches of tau might be weak, their uses outweigh however frail they might be. To sum everything up, Tavon, she can give us an edge in battle if we work as a team, but I won't ever risk having her on the frontlines without someone else to fight by her side. That's how me and my sister have always survived."

\----

On the day that I'd fully recovered, with only scars as proof of what I'd been through, Shanaxagora approached me after a long training session.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to come see you," she said.

"That would've been nice."

Shana smirked. "So you did miss me?"

"I missed not bleeding out every time I moved."

"Oh..." she looked away while lower her voice, "I'm sorry."

"It's not a big deal," I said. "Give me another year, then I'll kick his ass."

She smiled big and looked deep into my eyes.

\----

We hooked up.

Back at the Arcade, I'd been able to book a room all to myself—and that room ended up becoming my home now that the Meiziki footsoldiers respected my strength.

I got laid, again and again. Throughout the Summer, I became a better man. A better warrior.

3

Fall

\----

Tavon

\----

There's a lot to say about what happened in the Fall of that year...

\----

"I've worked out a plan for myself," Shana told me one morning while I was half-asleep in bed.

"What's that?"

"I'm going to join the Association."

"Huh? I don—"

"The best assassins in the Citadel. No single gang possesses their level of talent, and I can further my path as a warrior by joining them. I've thought of something that might work, that might get me in."

"What's that?"

She rested her head on my chest as she spoke:

"I want to kill the Father."

\----

Shana and I didn't talk much after that. I didn't know why, exactly, but she backed out of my life. On the inside, I'd had real feelings for her, but she disappeared after telling me her dreams.

The Angelos Association sounded like a good deal, but I'd already betrayed one keeper. Making myself into a perpetual traitor probably wouldn't look good on my 'legacy.' Also...

The Meiziki continued to grow.

In fact, its growth outpaced the spread of any neighboring influence. It took just a few months before our individual cell succeeded in further recruiting efforts. The more people we gathered, the more there were to enforce the wishes of the Clan, which is also why there'd been only one Seneschal left behind to guide us as our numbers swelled.

The Meiziki Clan was fast becoming the most dominant criminal organization within the Citadel. Its formidable size threatened more than just the police from Zone E, and it was because of general concern that our neighborhood rivals, who'd been cautious to provoke our wrath up until this point, began to plot against us.

The Heartseekers, the Silver Band, the Miorians, the Lekikos, and all other smaller gangs formed a coalition which the Meiziki failed to take seriously.

For the first time, every criminal syndicate in Zone E, regardless of the territories they'd fought over in the past, came together to stand against the biggest gang in the Citadel. Outside of our cell, word had gotten around about how vicious we were, about how we'd taken a part of the Lower-City for ourselves, and about how the Federation was afraid of the Father.

Tactics changed.

The leaders of every rival faction hid from us, sending delegates instead to warn the Meiziki against spreading their influence any further. Some came with propositions for an alliance, propositions that we sent up to the ears of the only Seneschal left to take care of us, Labou. Labou reported back to the Father, who replied with a firm denial of any their requests for treaties.

His arrogance began to cost us. Because of the legacy the Father had forged, ordinary bangers looked to the police in order to orchestrate what would turn out to be systematic opposition.

Zone police started showing up more often, patrolling the areas we didn't yet own. In a way, they were protecting dealers who wouldn't stop trying to beat what had been, so far, unbeatable. Currently, the nano-freaks had remained undetected because they weren't taken seriously. No one cared to investigate before it was too late; while those living in Zone E turned a blind eye, the Clan continued to create addicts in multiple Zones.

Eventually, the coalition grew.

Eventually, it retaliated.

\----

I was on my way to inspect a squad of footsoldiers when I encountered Setiawan, who turned out to be the one who would drive me to my destination: Block Aveo.

It'd been a few weeks since I'd seen him, but I remembered the way he looked when I'd broken his arm. Setiawan stared at me for a few seconds...

He shook my hand, then he nodded out of respect.

\----

"Yo man, I've got no hard feelings about what happened." Setiawan said to me with his hand on the wheel while I observed our surroundings in the passenger seat. "I just didn't expect you to be that strong. I heard some strange shit about you, but I didn't really believe any of it. You seem like such a humble dude! Guys like you in the Clan usually end up being like Jigen. Just mad all the time."

"Fuck that guy."

"Heard he trained you for a little bit. How'd that go?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Psh. Classic Tavon, stoic as ever." Setiawan laughed while driving without a care in the world. "You're crazy, man, but I see you out here shakin' things up. They got you inspecting enforcers now."

"It's not a privilege." I shook my head and grunted. "The guy I'm checking on today isn't all that reliable. He doesn't look you in the eye when he talks."

"Maybe he's nervous."

"Nah. Enforcer Ake's been hiding something from me," I said. "It shows in his finance reports."

"You were able to pick that up?"

"Yeah. He sends his reports in through the Meiziki Network, but Ake must think I'm incredibly stupid. The 'net income' he tries to tell me isn't right, and I know it."

"How?"

I snorted in response. "It's just not right. Our main three products are opioids, stimulants, and psychedelics, and we've got the best quality of each because the Clan can afford it. Our product's more profitable than what he'll admit. Ake thinks I'm not paying attention."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

\----

"Ay man, I swear it's all straight. I'd never come at you on some shady shit, boss."—Enforcer Ake offered me his hand—"We've been doing good, as usual."

I took it, then I headbutted him.

Ake hit the ground. He reached for his gun—

I stomped my heel into his stomach. Ake struggled vainly to lift my foot prior to me looking out at all of the other footsoldiers. Eventually, I stomped hard enough to make him pass out.

"My name is Tavon," I said. "I outrank this Enforcer, and that means that I have the authority to demote him. Does anyone else think they've got the guts to take command—to give factual reports about your earnings?"

There was silence, then...

Some bald dude, bulkier than me, stepped up. He eyed me with respect, bowed, and he said: "Lord Tavon, I'll carry out any order you give me. Just say the word."

I felt strange. After years of negligence, this kind of respect was foreign to me. Still, if I showed emotion—no, if I showed weakness—his pledge of loyalty here would mean nothing. I chose to honor his request.

"What's your name?"

"Juven, my lord."

"Juven," I started to say...

That's when reality caught up with us, just as we all stood on one of the local corners that'd been profiting nicely for months.

"I respect your ambition, and—"

Setiawan pushed me to the ground. I didn't know why, and that really pissed me off, but then I heard gunshots. Footsoldiers scattered in all directions, fleeing for cover before they could take aim against an enemy we hadn't anticipated.

Setiawan took a bullet to the shoulder, but he stood his ground. His adrenaline took over, and, in that instant, he acted as my bodyguard. Some fellas from the Lekikos, the second biggest syndicate in Zone E, were pulling a drive-by with two cruisers.

Though shrapnel rang out all around, my anger kept me focused. I counted four of them, four bangers who assaulted the Meiziki before soaring away at a rapid speed. Juven moved to my position. "Lord Tavon," he said, "what would you have us—"

"Dig in." I said before he could finish his question. "Form a perimeter around this base of operations and prepare for a second attack at any time."

I looked to Setiawan.

"We should call for reinforcements," I suggested.

"That's not likely."

"Why's that?" I stepped closer to him while crossing my arms as my breathing returned to normal. "We've just been attacked."

"And I just got a call on my Cell, T." Setiawan said while clutching his shoulder. "We weren't the only ones. I'm seeing reports of local drive-bys at the other hotspots, too."

"Those bastards targeted more of us?"

I admired his composure, but the thought of weaker soldiers coming at our own made such little sense that it was frustrating to think too hard about.

"We've gotta strike back," I said, and everyone nodded in agreement. "We can't allow these weaklings to keep spitting on us, not when we could kick their asses if they'd face us in the open!"

Every footsoldier echoed the same sentiment, and, though Setiawan was struggling to hold on, he patted me on the back and shouted: "Yeah!"

"We've got to show them—"

A call came in on my Kom Cell.

I took it, ignoring them all, and recognized the voice of an old friend.

\----

When I understood who it was, I left Setiawan and Juven in charge of setting up defenses and rushed back to the Takeda Arcade to meet him.

"I can't believe it..."

He appeared to me, not in his human form, but as his true demonic self.

"I didn't expect this..." he started and then hesitated.

"What?"

Abul smirked.

"I didn't think you'd miss me."

"Shut the hell up."

Though his skin had turned to the color of ash, Abul Shikon seemed healthy enough. But he was still healing, and, without meaning to, he shook involuntarily when speaking to me.

"You made it after all..."

Abul had been changed permanently by our shared experience, and this realization brought with it a sense of grief.

"I'm sorry, Abul. Sorry that..."

My emotions were raw then. I didn't want to have to look back to that time, but I had to acknowledge it.

Abul nudged me.

"You did a wonderful job," he said. "Without your help, we couldn't have won. I'm sure Mendo still dreams, and, while he dreams, he'll dream of our victory until he awakens.

"Tavon, we survived in the face of an insurmountable enemy. We fought Enok on equal footing, and we won—that's all thanks to you."

"Mendo's still in a coma..."

"He'll come to—especially after I'm through with his Imago. My, you've gotten so strong. The Meiziki speak favorably of you, and they say that the Father's even spoken to you personally. The weakest of us matured into a fine warrior, so I'm proud in believing that Mendo did his job. Combined, we're unstoppable, Tavon."

\----

Abul possessed an ability no one else in the Clan had, except for Mendo and to a lesser degree.

His natural affinity rested with Imago. Abul's physical state might've been weakened significantly, but his mind was stronger than ever, and thus the two of us made the perfect pairing.

When the Meiziki Clan had at last captured a member of the Lekikos, it was Abul who was able to obtain the most information, information pertaining to those who'd attacked me personally. He used an all-powerful version of demonic Imago to invade the minds of those we'd captured.

And so, with the help of the most talented demon in the Citadel, we were able to produce a counterattack.

\----

Four members of the Lekikos syndicate lounged in a black cruiser stationed in a spot that collected a usual customer base.

The Lekikos sold the same products we did—minus the psychedelics—and so they constituted the only real opposition to our own sales. They'd ambushed us to see if we'd back down, to test the courage of the Meiziki.

I was there to answer the call.

While the four who'd shot at me waited for their regular clients to approach them, I moved like a shadow. Their driver, who was the first to sense that something was off, looked around—

And I ducked low.

I heard them speak:

"You hear that shit? Sounds like some animal's out there."

"Man, you gotta be high! Chill out; you just trippin' like you stay do—"

I put my fist through the driver's side window. I punched the driver in the side of his head and broke his neck.

The three of them proceeded to unleash a barrage of bullets upon where I'd stood, but I was one step ahead: I ducked again, lurking underneath what became a hail of wasted ammo. The first one stepped out—

I was behind him before he could see me. I snapped his neck. As he fell, I sprinted to the rear of the cruiser before the passengers inside could shoot at me. While they reloaded, I jumped onto its roof.

They moved to concentrate their fire, so I forced the heel of my foot through the back edge of the cruiser's top. I crushed one of their heads, then I recovered.

I grabbed the neck of their last member.

The interrogation began...

\----

And that was how it was for the next few days; the Meiziki had commenced their assault on Zone E. We took the fight to the coalition formed against us, and that meant all footsoldiers ambushing anyone we could identify as the enemy. If someone wore the wrong hat, sported the wrong colors—even walked in a funny way, like they were packing or something—we'd jump them.

We wanted to hit them back twice as hard, to make sure our enemies knew what kind of situation they'd gotten themselves into. Until they surrendered to the Meiziki's might, the Father had given his people full reign to do as they pleased. This meant that Setiawan and I formed a stronger bond while in the process of kicking as much ass as possible. Sometimes, Shoto would come along to help out if we had a manpower problem.

First, I led a series of ambushes against maybe sixty different bangers in total; we'd strike at one faction, then we'd concentrate our efforts on partnering with the local businesses who'd ignored us in the past because they'd already had protection.

If they refused, they were beaten. If they still refused, I'd send in requests for the nano-freaks to sway them our way. The faster we dominated this conflict, the less it would cost everyone in the end.

As far as the police were concerned, they'd screwed themselves from the beginning, and this was because the local Zone police had connections to the coalition—which itself was illegal. A lot of Zone E's cops benefited from the profits netted from territory we hadn't touched; a near equal division of factions had also been the ideal ground for bribes coming from all directions. With the Meiziki threatening their natural ecosystem, the Zone police relied on the coalition to put an end to us.

But, instead of anyone surrendering... the attacks got worse.

Footsoldiers weren't allowed in the Gizorgi Ring—what we called the new territory we'd claimed that now surrounded us in a perfect sphere—without at least ten companions. Enforcers were expected to bring fifteen, and anyone above them needed to bring at least twenty.

Drive-bys became regular, so we sent squads of our own to generate the same kind of fear. If only that had been the worst of it.

\----

Every now and then, I'd manage to catch either a shooter or someone else we were ordered to harass. In these situations, Abul took over. More than anyone else, Abul Shikon was the one everyone was truly terrified of due to what he was. Lower-ranking fellas whispered about the costs of working with a demon, about how the Father had dishonored the Clan by partnering with dark spirits.

It was when things were at their worst that we brought someone in genuinely worth talking to:

The general of the Miorians, Wilfirus, who answered directly to their leader, Don Se.

Wilfirus wasn't built like your usual thug. He was fat and much older than any of us, with a gut that hung over skinny legs. He was dressed in a black, buttoned kimono, and a crown of thinning, grey hair loosely draped over four distinct lines in his forehead. He didn't give the impression that he was very strong, mentally or physically.

"Do you understand what role you're to play, Wilfirus?" Abul asked.

He didn't respond and kept his eyes averted. Abul's demon form showed itself; his body burst to life with a haunting grey, and his eyes shone like white diamonds which couldn't be viewed directly.

This was all it took to make Wilfirus piss himself before he broke down, and it's also how we learned that our war with the coalition was getting out of control faster than we'd thought.

"You can't just barge in on land that's been owned for years. You can't," Wilfirus said breathlessly, "steal what we've earned."

"Who are you to say this?" Abul responded, having allowed his human form to dominate during the conversation.

"I'm—I'm just a worker in the Mid-City, a businessman! The Miorians could've existed in peace if you hadn't started ruining everyone's way of life!"

"Does God owe you your way of life?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then it was never yours, was it?

"You say that you're a businessman, but why do you bother with lowlifes who gun down our people in the streets? How does this contribute to your 'business?'"

I watched in the background, waiting for Abul to do what he did best.

Wilfirus scratched his head. "I've had nothing to do with that. My interest is solely based on the sale of products—on free consumerism for all!"

"Did you advise Don Se to continue this foolish war?"

"..."

"Wilfirus, did you have comrades who helped you establish your personal enterprise?"

"Yes." He bowed curtly.

"So, there are other 'businessmen' involved?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to give one of them a call?"

He froze.

"I..." Wilfirus shuddered. "I'm not sure that any of them would be of much help—we're just investors, you see."

"I do, but you're my prisoner now, which makes any position you held before irrelevant. As my prisoner, I'd like you to use this Kom Cell—"

Abul tossed him his own.

"Contact one of your friends. Tell them that we wish to commence talks on a potential treaty."

"They'll never go for that."

"Oh?" Abul raised his eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Wilfirus grunted out of frustration—"Because it's just about the money to them, and... because it's too late."

"Too late?" Abul stepped toward him and tensed. "Explain yourself."

Wilfirus was quiet for a second, then he went on:

"The coalition's adopted new tactics, I'm afraid. They've... they've brought in new munitions they want to try out before they'll even consider negotiating with you."

"MAKE THE CALL," Abul's demon voice boomed.

Wilfirus scrambled to input a number on the Kom Cell we couldn't see. He focused his eyes on its screen as he began speaking to someone on the other line: "Onidias, the Meiziki Clan has requested that we open negotiations before the coalition commences its next operation. They'd like to speak to both of us as well as the rest of our partners in the firm."

Wilfirus waited for a while, staring intently until he at last managed to nod.

"Mhm. Okay," he said confidently.

"What happened?" Abul asked right away, "Why didn't he say anything back."

"It seems he sent me a typed message. Mr. Onidias says that they'd like to take the time to consider your offer before they make their choice."

"Tell him there's no time for that," Abul replied. "The longer this goes on, the greater the death toll."

Wilfirus stared at Abul blankly.

Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes; two veins popped out in his reddening forehead; he shook with a fury that he barely overcame with a mocking smile.

"You're all delusional...

"You think that you've made a brand out of loyalty, but no great empire was ever complete without its conspirators. Your Clan moved too soon, unfortunately, and that's led to some of your supplies spilling over, if you catch my drift."

"You don't mean,"—Abul and I glanced at each other—"traitors stole away with our nano tech?"

Wilfirus grinned.

"The Takeda Arcade... they're gonna blow it all up. They'll blow it up, and you'll be finished. The coalition will crush the Meiziki using its own weapons, and then you'll suffer. After that call just now, I've made sure that ALL of you will suffer. Ha! Your demon friend is both ugly and stupid; he thought he was smarter than ME! You're all done fo—"

Abul put a bullet in his head.

\----

The coalition hit us with their first attack the following morning. Rather than striking out at small groups of us with their usual tactics, they went for the heart of the cell. The first drone hit the midsection of the Takeda Arcade, blasting debris in its wake and shaking the foundations of what had been our home.

In this strike alone, at least fifty footsoldiers were wiped out. If I hadn't been in my private quarters, near the top, I might've been included in that body count.

Two massive barrages of enlarged bullets pierced the ground from opposite angles above the Arcade and brought down ranks of regular, unsuspecting customers. It didn't take much longer before our scouts spotted the source of the threat: two mad gunners had taken their stations atop steel skyscrapers, and they managed to hit our numbers pretty hard until Labou, using a sniper rifle, and Shoto, wielding smaller plates than usual, killed them both from a distance.

The Gizorgi Ring was next. It also happened to be the coalition's main focus once they'd deployed their entire arsenal. In one go, our rivals had formed a plan to remover our presence from Zone E, and they enacted their plan by repeatedly bombing the patrol bases we'd established around the center of our operation. Because more than a handful of newly converted Meiziki footsoldiers had become traitors who'd played both sides for profit, approximately half of our drone arsenal had been stolen and traded to the enemy.

They located the other half, then they destroyed it.

Our defense against the coalition consisted of those who didn't run when they invaded, and we had enough confidence in our influence that most of us expected to brave the storm. All around me, I heard the sound of bombs detonating, of gunshots ringing through the air.

Just outside the entrance to an alley leading to the Arcade, three drivers had pulled up and fired at everyone nearby. As a result, the wrath of the Meiziki was unleashed in full: hundreds of footsoldiers sprayed the shooters with lead until there was nothing left but blood, smoke, and fire.

Setiawan linked up with me and Shotobai. As a group, we located Shana and Abul as well as Shikami and Osotone, then we moved to rendezvous with the Fourth Seneschal.

Labou was dressed in red chainmail that was coated with Ududa's webbing; in his arms, he carried an assault rifle but appeared primarily focused on his Kom Cell. When we approached, he held up his hand to prevent us from saying anything that might distract him. At the same time, Meiziki footsoldiers passed us from all around, organizing into separate squads which would serve as our best defense force.

Individual bombings no longer resounded across the Zone, but the damage to us was already done. Such a dramatic act of vengeance would catch the attention of the entire Citadel, attention which would be redirected onto us once we took the fight to them.

Our fate had been decided, and yet the Clan chose to fight anyways.

"We've lost over three hundred men in less than half an hour," said Labou, lacking any inflection to his voice. "I see no point in continuing this fight, but I'm currently coordinating each individual squad's movements. The Father's initial order was to strike, and so we are."

Labou looked far ahead.

"I've received word that most of the enemy's shooters on the frontlines are small squads of madmen. Other than that...

"Hmm."

\----

Labou was able to plainly see the locations of all units on a map projected by his Kom Cell. After he'd established a secure perimeter around our group, we pushed forward while under the protection of snipers from all around.

"I've sent the Father a request to have our units retreat back into the Lower-City."

"What?" Shotobai exclaimed. "Retreat? After they fucking bombed us?"

"Shoto!" Shanaxagora yelled, "Shut up."

"I didn't expect everyone to understand at once, so the fault lies with me for not preparing for this scenario.

"Master Shotobai," Labou bowed slightly, "the coalition has created a political trap which wedges the Meiziki Clan in between the Dawn Bureau and themselves. Due to there being a plurality of criminal syndicates in Zone E, it's almost certain that the Bureau will target us, the largest of them all.

"Everyone... once the Bureau picks up on the bloody trail we leave behind, there will be no future for the Meiziki Clan. The best chance we have to survival lies in gathering the entirety of our army within the Lower-City; we cannot do this if we continue spreading ourselves so thin, and thus I've reached out to the Father's better judgment.

Labou received a response.

He frowned, then he looked away from us a second time.

"It seems there's nothing more I can do."

The Fourth Seneschal glanced our way and said, "Come on. We'll push out and then circle the Gizorgi Ring's outer perimeter."

\----

We only made it a few hundred feet before the Ring was hit with a second wave.

I heard gunfire again, and it picked up as we moved closer. There were screams concentrated in one direction, northbound, where long blocks of steel housing shifted and curved to create crooked alleyways lit by bright blue lights. Right before we could pass through the first of them, an enforcer rushed to stop us. His rifle shook in his hands as he warned, "There's nothing you want to see this way, boss. Run—get away from here as you can and don't wait up!"

Labou was taken aback after having been barked at like a dog, but he humored him coolly, "My map's been stuck in a loop as it continues to load new blueprints. It's telling me that several more of you vanished all the sudden. What happened, soldier?"

"Boss, y-you—" he stuttered and couldn't meet the Seneschal's eyes, "it's not safe to try to fight that thing. It's not normal."

"It's one enemy?"

He nodded. "Can't shoot at it, can't stab it,"—the soldier exhaled hard while trying to catch his breath—"can't kill it. We gotta move out. Permission to leave, boss?"

"Permission granted. Please tell those at the Arcade not to send reinforcements. We should have enough talent here to handle it."

"Thank you, sir!" he replied before sprinting toward headquarters without another look back.

Promptly after, Labou received another message on his Kom Cell.

"The Father's issued a new order," he said. "Retreat."

"We can't retreat now," Abul replied, shocking all of us.

"Master Abul?"

"I want to find the source and control it. If I can control a power that great..."

Shoto interjected, "We've been training for a long time, Labou. Don't you think it's time we had some fun?"

He smiled, but Labou didn't smile back. In his mind, he was uncertain of our prospects.

"If the Father says to leave, then we can't argue," Shikami spoke up in Labou's defense.

"Be quiet, you!" Abul shouted. "It's close!"

\----

There were still several footsoldiers who rushed past us to confront the enemy head on. The sound of gunshots was close enough to set my ears ringing.

Three more of our guys went forward.

Intense pressure followed: gusts of wind blasted in the wake of black arcs of energy that flew our way. One of the footsoldiers was split in half by a long rift; this rift, a chasm drawing into midnight, phased through his body without stopping and then created a deep, dark cut within the nearest building. From that wound in its infrastructure, shadows extended out, flowing skyward.

A second guy had the top of his head severed before the next rift stopped inches after him, suspended in space.

The third was chopped in two at his midsection prior to the last rift sinking into the ground.

We cautiously moved as a group and encountered the remainder of the forces who'd been sent out to defend the Arcade: a little over thirty footsoldiers. Black rifts littered the area, like portals that matched the same darkness which echoed out from one specific alley.

Ten of them shot into the corridor—

Bullets flew but didn't meet their target. Not immediately. From all angles, shrapnel soared out of every rift to strike down those ten.

"This power is something else," Abul mused. "I sense an unnatural barrier. It's not a feat that a human could be capable. This thing's developed defenses against demonic attacks, though my question is precisely how far do those defenses extend? If you give me enough time—"

"We cannot go any farther," Labou replied while observing the area.

The rest of our footsoldiers scattered to inspect each rift while the Fourth Seneschal continued his rant:

"The Father's ordered us to evacuate, and it's obviously for a good reason."

"Seneschal, I can weaponize my Im—"

A dark wisp, slender and in the shape of a long sword, protruded from one of the rifts; it thrusted just as quickly as it'd appeared, and it decapitated another of our gunmen.

"The fuck's going on?" Setiawan gasped while backing away. "Yo, we gotta move on out of here, Tavon. This shit does NOT look good."

Shadows congregated around the tall shape of a broad-shouldered human, one dressed in black, crudely-plated armor which didn't appear to show any openings. In fact, this armor was one giant suit which looked way too heavy to be worn by a human—yet this stranger walked with ease, wielding a longsword made of black flames trailing behind him. His helmet was jagged around its edges and equipped with a visor possessing a series of slits not big enough to show any clue as to what he looked like. The dark knight halted before us, resting patiently as everyone else stood in awe.

"It's him," Shoto exclaimed. "I can't believe it."

"Might be an impostor," Labou thought out loud.

"No, that's him!" Shoto insisted. "The third member of Noboros: the Demon Knight. That suit of armor's said to have been made from the skin and bones of a demon; his sword's the expression of his hatred."

The last of the Meiziki squads gathered in a long rank which half-circled the Demon Knight in order to concentrate their fire upon him. Labou gestured for us to leave, but Shoto was the first to resist.

"We've got him cornered." he stated resolutely. "We're looking at a member of Noboros that we stand a chance at defeating here! If we captured him—"

"Exactly my line of thinking," Abul chimed in.

Then every footsoldier took aim.

They fired; the Demon Knight swung, downward and in a perfect vertical line that rent the space in front of him. The bullets that didn't ricochet off his armor were absorbed by the vortex he'd opened. With his other hand, he snapped his fingers and summoned the coming storm...

Each surrounding rift erupted with shrapnel that homed in on the firing squad. Those who weren't taken out by this attack were gutted by the consecutive swings sent through time and space with the use of the swordsman's shadows.

Shotobai took his turn, and, behind him, Osotone grew determined as well.

Shoto threw two discs his way; the Demon Knight reacted by slicing one into separate halves. The howling rift he'd left behind in doing so absorbed the second, then he redirected Shoto's disc right back at him. The Demon Knight sent it through a portal that flanked us, but Shoto moved fast enough to avoid having one of his legs broken.

"Master Shotobai!" Labou shouted while grabbing onto him. "There's nothing left for us to do!"—he took hold of Shana as well—"We have to retreat!"

And with that, the three of them were off.

Setiawan poised himself to shoot, but I gestured for him to stand down and shook my head. "It's no use."

I addressed Shikami next, "You should get out of here, too. Take Osotone, and the three of us can protect your back.

"Abul?" I turned to him as I spoke, "Anything?"

Abul, who'd seated himself in meditation, grew frustrated.

"His barrier's still in place. I don't know if I can break through his line of concentration!"

The Demon Knight swung again, producing an arc of dark tau which descended upon Abul. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit in the process! Meanwhile, the Knight kept his sword at the ready, waiting in place.

Osotone had begun groaning. Her groaning turned to a chant, which prompted Setiawan to try to grab her.

"C'mon, we've gotta ru—"

Rotted stems unfurled and expanded, became like overgrown roots, reached and climbed their way toward Setiawan, and he jumped back in astonishment.

"What the...?"

Shikami stood between them.

"She's our last hope if we want to escape."

He took her hand in his and said, "I believe in you Oso. Just trust in your training."

She nodded firmly, then the jaws buried in her sternum opened, releasing hundreds of spores that shot out toward the Demon Knight at a greater speed than ever.

Actually, they moved so fast that I think he was too stunned to do anything at first. Out of confusion, the Demon Knight swung wildly, sensing but not truly understanding the danger in her ability.

Thick roots spread along the ground, parting metal as they crept toward him. Surrounding the Knight were dozens of additional portals he'd created from his rampage, but Oso's tau had interfered with his own.

From the center of nothingness, a feature inherent in every rift, there sprouted something rotten. While a brown fungus developed, pushing out wooden tendrils covered in toadstools, many of the Knight's portals were sealed by Oso's ability.

But she didn't stop there. Osotone breathed heavily while forcing this strange form of plant to keep growing, faster and faster—until its branches wrapped around the body of the Demon Knight.

The rifts he'd generated were used against him, with each grand root binding together every portal he'd made. While the Demon Knight remained stuck, Shoto made a surprise reappearance and moved to strike—

"Hey!"

I strode to stand in front of him, then I pushed him back. Shoto fell hard but recovered by leaping to his feet and into a fighting stance as his face got a little redder.

"You mother—"

Shana touched him, panting after having dashed to catch up with her training partner. "Shoto," she pleaded, "listen to him."

She tugged at his arm, Shotobai relented, and soon we were on our way. Abul sighed, barely hiding his disappointment when he had to give in. Meanwhile, I ensured that Shikami and Oso were at the front while we hung back at the rear. Even if she wasn't near her damn mushrooms, they'd stay in place while we made for the Arcade.

Osotone had saved us from a bleak annihilation, but it wasn't long before we heard sounds of wood snapping that was punctuated by the swift strokes of a blade.

By the time we'd made it near the middle of the Gizorgi Ring, we encountered scouts who were willing to run ahead to protect us. We refused their offers of protection, but they chose to guard our backs anyways.

I heard gunfire, then I heard screaming.

No matter how many footsoldiers swore that they'd stop him in his tracks, they all sounded the same in the end, and their shrieks grew closer. The Demon Knight's pace never changed; he stayed on us as we escaped back into central territory.

Our retreat was turning into a game of survival, as the Knight seemed intent on following us all the way back to the Arcade. Sooner than we'd hoped, we came upon regular citizens and addicts mixed in with close to a hundred footsoldiers prepped for battle. Most everyone was packing, and we didn't have the adequate time to explain with the Knight failing to shake his pursuit.

"Don't you losers get it!" Shotobai screamed at the top of his lungs, "The entire cell has to fall back now! We can't stop this guy without the other Seneschals, and they're waiting for us in the Lower-City!"

"Sir, I got you," one of the enforcers said, "but no pussy-ass gang is gonna go around trying to kill people close to me without me making it fucking personal. The Meiziki Clan is the biggest fucking gang in the Citadel!"

"We won't be if you all throw your lives away!" Abul said to them, "The coalition hired Noboros to take action against us, that's why we can't win without an excessive amount of force!"

"Noboros," several of them uttered almost in unison.

"It doesn't fuckin' matter who they hired. There are enough of us here to hold our ground, don't you think?"

"Seneschal! I need a Seneschal!"

Everyone turned their attention to a strange man who wore a navy-colored kimono and had no hair on either his head or face.

"I've an important message which needs to be delivered to the Father!" he said in an abnormally urgent way.

Oblivious to everything else, he approached Shoto with a ghoulish scowl as he ranted: "A message—a message! Yes, I have a message for the Father, and I must speak with him as soon as possible!"

The enforcer who'd argued with Shoto and Abul aimed his way, but Shoto stopped him by grabbing the barrel of his gun with one hand and raising a plate high in the air with his other.

"Don't you shoot him just because, you hear me?" Shoto snarled while staring him down.

The enforcer surrendered. He bowed and replied, "Yes, sir."

"The Father is running out of time," the stranger exclaimed eerily.

—Dark tau soared our way—

Setiawan cried out, and I saw it:

His midsection was split by a black light which cut through it diagonally.

"Setiawan!" I screamed in shock, waiting in place as everyone else rushed to escape. Shoto grasped the messenger's arm, then he pushed me roughly—

"Let's go!" he said. "There's nothing we can do!"

I let Shoto take off without me and stared into the Knight's visor, trying to decipher the face of my enemy... but it was pointless. I turned and ran.

As if on cue, the rest of our footsoldiers unleashed everything they had on the Demon Knight. I didn't look back, though those I passed seemed confident enough. That enforcer's argument made sense: our numbers were superior, but, when it came to Noboros, nobody knew what to expect.

By the time I'd caught up with Labou, it sounded like there were more bullets ringing out than ever, all of it a contrived effort to stop the advance of one person.

Labou escorted me and the other students to the landing area, where we were packed into a single cruiser which he piloted himself. It didn't feel like he was close, but the Seneschal moved in nervous, jerking motions. He was silent, showing obvious fear of what was about to become of our Clan.

As our cruiser hovered prior to taking off, the atmosphere around us was too tense. No one knew what to say. We could only look down while trying to see how far the Demon Knight had traveled into our territory. Bright flames flickered across the surface, smoke barreled out from the dark, but that's all I could make out as Labou accelerated our flight toward the Lower-City.

\----

"Can you still see what's happening over there, Seneschal?" Shoto was the first to speak up.

Labou made us wait for his response while he checked his Kom Cell expressionlessly.

"It seems that our manpower has decreased quite a bit. Approximately fifty live bodies remain, but they're scattered all over the map—probably fleeing that monster."

"What has the Father decided to do about the Arcade?" Abul asked.

"..."

Labou swallowed, then he said, flatly, "The Takeda Arcade is lost. In line with my recommendations, all efforts at developing our individual cells have been disbanded in favor of bolstering our numbers back at headquarters."

"Are you serious?" Shoto exclaimed. "Are we going to war then?"

"No. We are simply regaining control over our entire body of subordinates. This way, we can adapt in time to offset the Bureau's efforts to detain anyone.

"From now on, the Dawn Bureau—and the Ministry—will seek to end the legacy of the Meiziki Clan."

"How will we survive?" Shana asked, "If the police are onto us—"

"We'll do so cleverly." Labou cut her off, and, as his way of shushing everyone else, he explained: "There's no guarantee that my plan will work, but obtaining the allegiance of Major Kohaku carries with it potential which wasn't there before. With a member of the government involved in our operation, we've added needed leverage to our chances of perseverance.

"Within the next week, expect to see radical changes from both sides in the oncoming political conflict..."

\----

The Demon Knight's reign of terror ended at the Arcade, wherein he slaughtered every human he came into contact with. By the time the Zone police had caught up with the trail of death he'd left behind, the swordsman known as the third member of Noboros had made his exit. Like Abul said, his actions matched those of someone who'd been paid to do a job. If he'd really wanted to hurt us himself, the Demon Knight would've paid each cell a visit until he'd reached our front door.

On the contrary, this was part of a larger political move that didn't go unseen by Labou, and the Fourth Seneschal responded with tact:

In a day's time, while we stood by in his private quarters, the Fourth Seneschal went to work reorganizing the known structure of the Meiziki Clan. Footsoldiers and enforcers were relabeled under a tiered system—the most common reference now being "associate." The Clan hadn't just reeled in its military but had brought with it dozens of independent entrepreneurs who were willing to establish fronts that would serve under the Meiziki brand.

Shij'nga was converted over to Federation credit, but this was done through these devoted entrepreneurs buying stocks within the Meiziki Clan after Labou had registered our organization as a company some years ago. Thus, our cryptocurrency began slowly being laundered into the system.

Federation-approved currency meant legal paper trails, evidence that the Clan profited solely from sanctioned business ventures. The only problem was that Labou lacked the needed time to create a good illusion. In his own words, we were just "Buying time."

By the second day of our return, and before we were to present the messenger we'd recovered to the Father, the Ministry showed up at our doorstep. Rather than barging in outright, they chose a different strategy: psychological harassment.

A horde of Dawn Knights set up camps in a perfect circle around the Meiziki's primary base of operations. They'd managed to come close to getting martial law approved for them to take us down using their own discretion, but, for the time being, they could only send one of their "Captains" to issue empty threats.

Jigen wanted to cut him down, but Labou insisted that he be allowed to confront the Captain and lead with diplomacy. In his place, Jigen would take charge of escorting the pale messenger to the Father's personal chambers.

The Father, for reasons unknown, had requested that both me and Abul be present to hear what this stranger had to say, and so I was there when I heard another voice speak through him.

\----

Back at his personal bar, the three of us—Abul, me, and the Father—stood on the side of the counter next to the liquor. While he poured each of us a shot, the Father asked the messenger to take a seat.

He didn't.

The pale ghost of a human just stood there, staring at Cengiz intently and hunching over as he waited. The Father reached for his sidearm, but he stopped when he realized that the stranger didn't seemed prepared to handle all of us.

"Tell me," he started, with a curt nod to Abul, "why did you come all this way? How did you know to ask for me?"

There was silence, then the room darkened. The stranger smiled. His grin curved deep on both sides of his face, pressing deep wrinkles into the cheeks of a head that expanded. It grew, encompassing a black hole which made up his mouth as well as two gaping shadows in place of where his eyes had been.

From within my mind, I heard its voice:

"There is an answer to your search, Cengiz Meiziki. By the will of Cephamatu, you have been summoned for judgment. Cephamatu is the One, the Almighty who may cure you of the curse; therefore, he has requested that you make your way to the World Below, sail to the Southeast, through the Golden River, and travel into Cephamatu's embrace: Aletheia's Ocean."

The messenger's head parted at its center: red, insectoid legs clawed out from the crevice. Flesh-covered spirits began pouring out in multitudes and then fading into nothing. His body evaporated into thousands of ruby particles that vanished before our eyes...

And the Father stared off into space, scrunching his brow as he angrily contemplated his next move. In that moment, he evoked a darkness of his own.

4

Winter

\----

Tavon

\----

Labou escorted Abul and I after we were dismissed. Abul was supposed to have been assigned to the Second Seneschal, but, because he'd been so impressed by Abul's ability, Labou stole him from Ududa and took charge of three pupils.

According to Labou, Ududa was likely to kill her students before the end of Winter. Abul agreed to the change, but only because he didn't like the Second Seneschal or Shikami.

As for me, Modagi had ordered Labou to turn me over to Mr. Sensitive for the time being. So, for exactly a month, I was able to focus entirely on developing my body. When I wasn't lifting with Ganymedes and Thokozani, I'd meditate with the Third Seneschal in silence. I allowed both my mind and body to rest in between intense sessions, and so I improved.

\----

I made it to the fourth floor of the Third Seneschal's tower, past Ganymedes—on the third—and Thoko, who was still on the second but quickly catching up to her partner.

While the two of them were left to train on their own, Mr. Sensitive oversaw everything I did. Once I'd settled in and gotten my tattoo finished up, I fell into the rhythm of his imposed schedule. Mr. Sensitive watched what I ate, told me when and how long to sleep, and even showed off his cooking skills by mixing Oma eggs, sausage, and hash browns in these mega-sized bowls he served to us all.

But there was a reason behind this.

On my first day of training on the fourth floor, I asked him, "Seneschal, where's the equipment? Is this all there is?"

The Fourth Floor was nothing but dark, matted flooring which covered an empty expanse.

Mr. Sensitive gestured for me to follow—"C'mon, kid. A little farther."

When I'd taken several more steps, he stopped. Mr. Sensitive turned, strapped padded gloves to his hands, and punched me in the face.

The Third Seneschal knocked me on my ass, made my head spin long enough for him to grab me up—"It's said you experienced Jigen's one hundred cuts—not just that, but that he went beyond and gave you two hundred. Is that so, Tavon Meiziki?"

He didn't blink.

I tried to nod, but he threw me to the ground.

"Tavon Meiziki, it's clear that I can overpower you. I could crush your skull at any time..."

A lone cat strolled over to Mr. Sensitive, interrupting his speech. He looked down, gasped, and then quickly picked up "John" before hurriedly carrying him away as he started petting him.

"Who let you in here? I'll BEAT them," he exclaimed prior to entering the elevator and leaving for a time.

When he'd finally returned, Mr. Sensitive brushed himself off and announced:

"Tavon Meiziki, I am much buffer than someone like you, so the purpose of me pounding you into the ground is to get you used to seeking out other tactics for victory in combat."

Mr. Sensitive didn't wait for me to say anything else; he threw punches at the conclusion of his speech, and my initial response was to block with my forearms, keeping my elbows ready to inflict smaller blows upon his openings.

One hit from him swept me off my feet—

Before I could fall to the ground, Mr. Sensitive hurled a punch into my gut that forced me to crash against the mat.

"You're still trying to match me one-on-one," he took a breath, "but that's just idiocy! Think with your head!"

And, in saying that, he directed his next punch at my head. I move it to the side, then I rolled to my feet and—

I got nailed in the back. Instead of falling, I stumbled forward, pivoted, charged in—evading both of his fists—and pressed his abdomen into my knee.

I darted behind him, brought my arm around his neck, then—

Mr. Sensitive elbowed me in the stomach.

If I'd not already spent so much of my life training for moments like these, I'd have been knocked unconscious. Rather than let the pain make me sick, I channeled it into rage:

I could've wrapped my legs around his lower body, made him fall, choked him out. That would've been simple, but I spun him around instead.

I punched Mr. Sensitive in the jaw, dislocating it. From there, I sent a haymaker into his right side, probably cracking a few ribs as a result. As he fell back from the impact of my strikes, I continued throwing quick jabs that got weaker and weaker.

Mr. Sensitive grabbed my left fist, then he tossed me aside like a ragdoll; he kicked out, striking me in my stomach again and ending the fight.

He took hold of his jaw and fixed it with one quick movement.

\----

It was like this for the next four weeks...

Up until I realized what it was that the ass was trying to teach me.

Wrestling. Basic submission techniques. Everything I'd ignored as a common fighter. Without access to the knowledge of how to battle against fierce submissions, I would've perished not long after this specialized training. This, after all, was the point of the fourth level: to concentrate on my personal weaknesses.

When those four weeks were over, Mr. Sensitive ordered me to retire to my personal quarters for a short resting period. He demanded that I not leave my room in the upper part of the tower for three days, but I was too anxious about what was going on in the outside world. I called on Abul, who I trusted to brief me on the full breadth of the Meiziki Clan's ongoing crisis.

\----

"You look... different somehow," he said while tilting his head to the side.

We were in a small antechamber, where I'd been provided with a black couch that was right before a holographic projector. Surrounding it were seats positioned at a round table. Before he sat down and across the table from me, he remarked, "I see."

For a brief instant, I felt him probe my mind, but he didn't take it any further than that.

"Your zol condensed on itself. I wonder why? Tavon, has anyone warned you that you might—"

"I know already," I told him. "It's just not happening for some reason."

"Hmm. That's not good."

"Why do you say that?"

Abul grimaced and said, "That much power, without an outlet, could be quite dangerous to you and everyone else around. You've swelled up, too, it looks like. Did you get stronger, Tavon?"

"Yeah. Thought you'd never notice."

We shook hands and smiled at each other before I continued, "I'm glad to see that you're safe. I thought I'd lost you to that bastard."

"Hmph!" Abul snorted. "He put us through a lot of misery,"—his eyes met mine again—"and revealed secrets that were never supposed to be shared."

I gulped, then I nodded to reassure him.

"I don't remember any of it." I lied.

"Regardless of what do remember, Mendo was the most injured party."

"Any updates on his condition?"

"Yes, actually. Recently Mendo's shown faint signs of life—not necessarily in a physical way, but I've sensed his zol at different times these past few days."

"So..." I took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. "He'll recover. You think he'll make it?"

Abul frowned.

"I'm unsure, Tavon. Mendo braved the worst of Enok's assault. He gave everything he had after suffering the trauma induced by the Mulungu, so it's likely that, if he does come back to us, he may not be the same person he once was. I wasn't aware that you cared as much as I did."

I grunted in response then said, "It's not my fault that the Seneschals keep passing me around like a toy."

"Ha! Your reputation precedes you. Most of the Meiziki Clan knows your name by now, friend, so it's expected that you'll be valued as a celebrity. You met the Father, and so your fate here is sealed."

"Are the Dawn Knights still stationed outside?"

"Mhm." he said. "But their use is out of the question because now the President knows about us."

I felt another pang of anxiety.

"What's going to happen?"

"That's easy to figure out." Abul smirked. "The Dawn Bureau was given authority, over the Ministry—and by the President himself—to investigate the 'Meiziki Organization.' Bureau agents have already subpoenaed the Meiziki for their financial records, most of which have been fabricated."

"Labou was able to get the Clan's money laundered, right?"

"He was. He did everything he should've."

"But what?"

"The Bureau is combing through all of our exchanges now. They will investigate every possible lead, then they will realize something, Tavon.

"They'll realize that the history of the Clan reaches far beyond whatever documentation we've given them. They will run out of leads, then they will see us for what we are: perjurers and criminals who tried to hide a terrible history. They'll come for us once they've decided to move."

"Should we run?"

Abul shook his head. "There's nowhere to run. They've cordoned off most traveling routes leading into the Fourth Quadrant, and now..."

He clenched his fists as his expression darkened.

"Now, the Father's making a giant fool of himself. Do you know what he's been telling the Fourth Seneschal, Tavon?"

"They've kept me in Mr. Sensitive's tower for over a month, Abul."

"For good reason. Had you found out then, you'd have been able to run. The Father believed the messenger. He claims that he's had 'nightmares' ever since that encounter. I've tried to enter his conscious mind, but Phaedra keeps interfering.

"Tavon, the Father's kamuy, Phaedra, cannot truly belong to him because its power is beyond anything I could ever touch. A strange spirit was led to contact Cengiz, which means that something inhuman has reached out to the Meiziki, and I've never seen anything like it. This is worse than Muromusz, and it's all because I can't sense it when it arrives. Phaedra feels... invulnerable."

"You think a demon might be trying to manipulate the Father?"

"It couldn't be," he replied. "I could easily sense another member of the demon species...

"No. Someone's contacted the Meiziki from beyond. It's a personal matter; if I don't find out how it relates to our present situation, however, then we'll be at the mercy of Cengiz."

\----

Abul left not long after having made that statement.

It was unclear as to what the leader of the Meiziki had planned next, although it was rumored widely that he planned to leave the Citadel. This was the obvious solution reached by all once the Meiziki Clan ended up making Citadel news.

Pretty soon, Mid-City reporters were also lined outside the borders of our territory. The Ministry submitted an appeal to the Bureau's authority, insisting that proper martial law be issued to ensure the safety of all civilians.

In the midst of the chaos, Shanaxagora, on my third day of rest, paid me one last visit...

\----

We were both about as equally stressed, but it didn't take long for things to get intimate. It was maybe less than thirty minutes before we'd gotten undressed and renewed passion I'd thought was gone.

Shana looked happy after that. The way she gazed into my eyes made me think that she might've loved me in the same way Beatrice did. But, once we'd finished, things changed.

She started to leave, smiling as she got dressed, and I asked her, "Did you miss me?"

"Hmm. Yes." Shana looked back at me. "I missed you a lot."

"Then why did you leave?"

She turned away and continued getting ready, then, finally, she sighed as she said, "Tavon, you don't actually want this to be a thing."

"What? What are you—"

"Don't play stupid." Shana sighed again. "I know what you are."

"Wh... Shana, what the hell are you talking about?" I sat up, eyes wide because I didn't understand.

"Tavon, stop."

"Shana—"

"I know a fuckin' thug when I see one," she confronted me.

"Why do you say that?"

"You beat people to death with your hands, Tavon. I told you my deepest secret, that I harbored bitterness against the Father, and yet you still support him. Do you know what he's asking everyone to do?"

"No." I said. "I don't. I'm just trying to be a better warrior."

Shana snorted. "Bullshit. I told you the truth, and the truth still stands. If you betrayed your old master, how can you hesitate to betray someone worse?"

"If I betray the Father, where will that leave us? We're still guilty, Shana."

"We don't have to be!" she shouted at me, "We can put together a plan to stop the Father and overtake his authority. We could do it together."

"We should wait," I warned.

"Now is the best time," she retorted. "Abul, the one who controls minds, is on your side. The lower-ranking speak of your accomplishments in battle—you're better than even Shoto, which would make us the perfect partners.

"Tavon, if we lead the coup, the other students will follow. With all of us combined—"

"Shana." I said firmly and while staring down at the ground. "I'm not going to help you do this."

"But why?"

"Because it's too early," I replied. "We should go with the Father's plan for now."

"And venture to Aletheia's Ocean, where humans don't survive?"

"If it gets us out of the Citadel, then that means we're safe."

Shana stared into my eyes for a long time. She wasn't convinced, but she said, "Very well. Tavon, I'll trust your better instincts, but know this..."

Shana paused, then she finished:

"Our relationship is over. I've no use for a coward."

\----

Shanaxagora's departure wasn't the last of the pain I'd experience before the age of twenty.

A week before my birthday, something which had been forgotten by everyone but me, Modagi at last found the sense to call on me. Mr. Sensitive told me that he wanted to "see my progress," and so he led me back to the First Seneschal.

Modagi hadn't aged in the slightest and likely because he'd meditated regularly since I'd been gone, ruminating on the legal realities currently faced by the Meiziki.

When we'd met for the second time, his demeanor was different. In his eyes, I noticed what resembled respect. The First Seneschal spoke more carefully, "My, how you harbor such familiar energy. Tavon, my student, why won't you release it? What else could you be holding onto?"

I was shocked by his niceness. After the way he'd treated me in the past, I expected a deeper, angrier evaluation.

"The Meiziki are presently stranded among powerful enemies, yet the Father has discovered a way out, one that was brought to us thanks to your personal interventions. Your own opinion of yourself doesn't matter, Tavon, because you've already left a permanent mark on Citadel history, whether you know it or not. The Father has ordered fleets of Meiziki cruisers to ready a descent into the World Below.

"The way will be treacherous. Without a doubt, we will be pursued by the authorities, but there is some sense to this plan. If we're to be caught, then it's best if leadership survives to control the rowdiness inherent in Clan politics. Intriguing times lie ahead. I'm afraid that I cannot join you, however."

"..."

"Tavon?"

"Yes, Seneschal?"

Modagi drew a sharp, slender sword.

"There comes a time when a human fulfills their ultimate purpose. In accordance with the Way, I have viewed all the possible realms that might come after this one—I've eyed the true passage of time—and I've seen few outcomes which might weigh in our favor.

"The Meiziki Clan is destined to experience tragedy, for the nature of its creation has always resided within tragedy. For you to continue on the path ahead, you must accept that sacrifices will be made; therefore, Tavon, consider me the first of those sacrifices."

I paused.

"You... want me to kill you?"

"It is as I have said." Modagi stepped closer, then he explained in full: "You are the successor to Mendo's legacy. Mendo was expected to surpass me, to become the replacement for the First Seneschal and because he was the only pupil who was more skilled than Samazoshi.

"You, Tavon, have been trained. Tested. You've suffered at the hands of multiple Seneschals, become well-versed in the realm of the Meiziki Clan, but the same lesson still applies to your situation."

"What's my situation?"

"Heh."

Modagi snickered.

"Kill me or die."—He dashed in my direction, readying his sword in one hand while forming the scarlet image of a gun with his other.

I expected a bullet of zol before a true swing, but Modagi tricked me. His twirled his wrist faster than I thought possible, then he brought his blade around to cut my head in half.

I threw sent fist upward before he could, and it broke his blade in two...

The First Seneschal smirked, then he followed with his real attack.

His gun expanded into what appeared more like a red cannon, and he fired without a moment's notice. I tried to dodge, moving expertly away from a blast that came inches from severing my neck, then I charged at Modagi.

"Good. Very good." were his last words.

I threw a haymaker at the First Seneschal, anticipating that he would dodge and fire a second time, but he didn't continue the fight.

Modagi took the hit.

A single punch from me tore off the lower part of his jaw, leaving behind a mouthless mask of despair which bore its gaze into mine. Blood leaked from the lower portion of his exposed skull, but his eyes said one thing:

"Kill me."

Modagi attempted to generate the same reddish tau from before, concentrating his will into another gun. He intended to see the real outcome of this fight, whether or not it proved him to be the victor.

The First Seneschal prepared to fire a bolt of energy at me again. I plunged the same fist through his skull, blasting his brains apart on the spot.

For the first time, I realized the amount power that I'd accumulated and that I was capable of contributing to the Meiziki's cause. My hand was drenched in the blood of my mentor, but it hadn't fully registered in my head. I'd witnessed so much bloodshed, so much suffering, that this old man's death meant nothing to me. Not then, at least.

Days later, it would hit. Though I hadn't known him very well, the First Seneschal had been a monk who only respected loyalty. He'd sworn his full loyalty to the Father, and so, in his mind, he'd felt it necessary to duel me in a lethal trial which would test my strength. Modagi didn't believe in the path that Cengiz was taking. To him, abandoning the kingdom they'd established was an act of cowardice; therefore, with his mind focused on the future, he looked to me.

Mendo had been his ideal pupil: disciplined and intelligent. I possessed neither of those qualities. Still, since I'd proved stronger than Modagi himself, I would be considered worthy of serving the Father when promoted. In the end, the First Seneschal's goal had always been to ensure success for whoever he'd been assigned—which is also why he sent Samazoshi off to someone he'd claimed would be able to "teach him more."

Modagi had intended for me to be his last student. He'd chosen me, specifically, to end his life.

In reality, I'd thought he'd have been prepared, but I never once comprehended how much I'd grown until the very moment I crushed my master's skull. I hadn't intended to kill him, but the consequences all belonged to me.

From then on, I'd be the one who slayed the First Seneschal.

From then on, with Ududa replacing Modagi as the First, I'd be known as the Fifth Seneschal.

\-----

PART FIVE

The Curse

\-----
1

Preparations

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"This is the first meeting to include all Seneschals in a long time," the Father remarked.

He poured a shot for each of the Seneschals, including me. In contrast to the others, I sat far back and kept my head down. The sudden promotion hadn't sat well with anyone—not even those who I'd called my friends. Modagi had been a trusted member of the Meiziki Clan, and I was the one who'd ended his life.

"All of you should possess a decent enough understanding of the crisis the Meiziki currently face. We can no longer hide the things we've done as an organization. Every night—ever since the message I must've received from another world—I've dreamt of the next step, the path we should've taken sooner.

"My friends, the Meiziki Clan has become too strong. We became too strong, and so we've lost the right to protect ourselves in any legal fashion. We've been backed into a corner by people more corrupt than ourselves, so we must take action to protect the legacy we've established. There are three things I wish to announce...

"One, that the deceased Modagi's former pupil, Mendo, has made a startling recovery. He's awakened from his coma, and he'll be residing under Seneschal Ududa's care until our departure.

"Two, that there will be a departure. We can't hope to win against the full weight of the Federation, gentlemen. Regardless of that, we've still the resources necessary to grant us a safe passage into the World Below. If the Meiziki has indeed been summoned by the will of a higher power, then we've few options left but to answer the call.

"Third, and finally," he said, "I believe it necessary to establish just who will be announced as your successors—as the next Seneschals to come. My subordinates, I ask that a future competition be held, one that may truly assess the worth of our strongest students. In the end, they're our future."

\-----

The Father's speech didn't come as a surprise to anyone. To all left within the Meiziki Clan, it was common knowledge that an escape attempt would have to be made in order to avoid the wrath of the authorities. Our time in the Citadel had expired; thus, every move counted from here on out.

Mendo being alive came as real news to me, someone who'd spent so long training without him. He was who I'd looked up to the most while I was with the Meiziki, and I'd believed him dead. I'd grieved for him, admired the sacrifices he'd made in combat.

Yet he'd come back to us, and, once he'd gotten used to being conscious, Mendo called for me on the day before we were to set out for this mythological ocean.

Mendo wanted to rendezvous with me in Modagi's old tower, which, honestly, made sense. He was my real mentor in all of this, and so, like it always should've been, it made sense for us to meet again on the battleground whereupon I'd killed his own master.

\-----

The day following my twentieth birthday, after months of enduring his absence, I encountered Mendo.

He'd gotten to the tower before me—or, maybe, he'd taken it up as a temporary residence, one wherein he could regularly pray to small statuettes of various buddhas. That's how I found him: meditating in pure solitude before a sculpture in the likeness of Amida. Head down, his attention was distracted by something otherworldly.

Mendo's past injuries hid themselves in the shadows that encased his presence.

One of his eyes had been torn out; in its stead, I saw a red orb with a whitish dot at its center, one that focused on me before his natural eye could.

In the place of his hand, miniature plates of moa extended into the resemblance of a humanoid hand, albeit a little more slender but reaching farther than his other, and this is also the one which locked around the hilt of his preferred weapon: the odachi.

Mendo didn't bother getting to his feet as he spoke:

"The inheritor of my legacy is here at last. It feels as though it's only been a few days, though I've been told that I've been unconscious for much longer than that."

Mendo's red, synthetic eye beamed in my direction.

"They told me that you were the last one to be found conscious on the battlefield. There are dozens of stories about you, about your personal accomplishments. I know that Enok died... but was it you who killed him?"

"No." I didn't hesitate to respond.

Mendo stood.

"Then you were just the scrap after all, am I right?"

"..."

I imagined that Rokshasa must've felt the same fear I did when confronting Mendo. For some reason, I sensed anger resonating from the way he carried himself. Mendo appeared ready to fight—something I'd become accustomed to picking out—so I gathered myself while waiting for him to continue as he kept glaring at me:

"You were the sole survivor who could tell the story of my disgrace, of my fall against a mightier warrior. When you returned, everyone would see you as an illustrious fighter—this is what you wanted."

"No, Mendo. I—"

"Shut up!" Mendo snarled while moving closer. "The Father perceived you as a valuable asset. Did you know that the First Seneschal's death was planned, Tavon?"

I froze, feeling a jolt of anxiety run through me.

"Planned? That can't be possible..."

Mendo's expression darkened further.

"It was in accordance with the Father's wishes, wishes based on a misconception of who you really were. I'm afraid that idiocy has spread through the ranks, from the lowest soldier to the very head of the beast itself."

Mendo unsheathed his great blade and, with utter determination, strode in my direction.

In reaction, I positioned myself to throw quick jabs in case I could find any potential openings. Against an enemy like Mendo, strength, agility, and technique were all that mattered. If I could get in close enough, I intended to wrestle him into submission rather than risk any confrontation with his odachi.

He halted, a few feet away, and said to me: "First Seneschal Modagi was the best out of all of them,"—Mendo extended the point of his blade toward me—"and the Father, based on a stupid misconception, ordered his retirement.

"Tavon," he scowled, "you are the one he wanted to use to retire my teacher, and you are the reason why Modagi was slain prematurely. If anyone was going to do it, it was supposed to be me!"

He rotated his metallic hand rapidly—

Mendo's odachi whirled before my eyes, soaring close enough to have probably taken them both.

I backed away, but it didn't do me much good.

Mendo was able to swing his blade continuously and in wide strokes that would block any kind of reckless advance. Against a weapon with such a long reach, I was outmatched—but that didn't matter to him. Like everyone else, Mendo misinterpreted who I was; he looked into my eyes, and he saw something he hated. I reminded him of the pain we'd suffered together, but he stopped seeing me as his friend.

Mendo lunged, delivered a thrust directed straight for my head. Without zol, he was almost just as fast—still, I'd observed his movements enough times to react properly:

I swung my body to the side, cringing slightly while steel cut the air in front of my face.

It was subtle, but I noticed Mendo flexing his arms before prepping a stronger swing. I chose to charge at him; in a fight like this, I realized that aggression was the only thing which served to better my unique talents.

I dashed inside of Mendo's guard, grabbed his sword arms, and—

—SHINTE—

Mendo punched me in the head—once, twice, and at least ten more times in succession. He'd hit hard enough to incapacitate me; not only that, but it was expected that I'd fall back, that I'd catch myself just to move forward into his odachi's reach, and, from there, he could avenge the First Seneschal's death.

We were both surprised when his attacks didn't cause me to stagger one bit.

Instead, I uppercutted Mendo in the stomach.

—SHINTE—

He raced out of my range while clutching his gut with one hand and struggling to breathe. Mendo's face was beet-red; it went pale when his eyes met mine.

"I s-should've hit your harder," he said.

And, with those words, I unconsciously understood what was about to happen next:

—SHINTE—

A mad thrust, one compacted with all the speed of which Mendo was capable, caused him to glide through space as he soared my way. Some kind of knowledge from within me sparked.

I'd seen that look too many times.

I'd watched Mendo struggle for his life while helpless.

I'd been inside of his mind...

The tip of the odachi rushed past my right side, under my hand, and I closed my grip around the steel end closer to him. Just as I absorbed his momentum, blood spurted from my palm; the steel cut a deep red path through the inside of my hand, but my grip remained solid.

"What?" Mendo gasped.

That instant of hesitation was all I needed.

I jerked his weapon out of his hands and threw it behind me. Then, I squared up with Mendo, who hadn't expected such an efficient reaction.

I threw my first punch, and he weaved below it. I followed with a hook, and he stepped back in time as it caught the air.

—SHINTE—

Using his ability again, Mendo darted to my side, but I grabbed onto a piece of his kimono, holding fast well enough to stagger him. I got Mendo to turn so that I could duke it out with him a second time; instead of striking back, though, he brought his fist down, atop mine, and broke free.

He broke free, retrieved his odachi, and spun. Mendo thrusted at my abdomen, thrusted again at my throat—narrowly missing in both instances—slashed with a diagonal stroke, and cut a gash which ran along my chest.

His assault didn't end there.

Mendo kept me constantly on guard, swinging nonstop yet with deliberate attacks intended to maim someone. I saw that his eyes had gone cold. His fury had been perfected.

Comprehending this, the idea of an emotion molded to fit with one's duties, that Mendo could embody a kind of direction I'd been looking for my whole life...

It gave me courage.

Another diagonal cut sunk through the bridge of my nose and short of splitting my head, causing both nostrils to fill with blood. Sweat ran into my eyes, and so I couldn't see him well enough to avoid having the lower portions of two fingers parted from me.

Mendo lunged. He ran his blade through the right side of my chest, then the bastard went further: Mendo angled his odachi so that I'd be temporarily propped up before eventually sliding off it. The pain was so bad that I couldn't speak, but I could hear everything he said to me:

"Why did you hide it?"

"Hide what?"

Metal rent my flesh; adrenaline having taken over, I took hold of the odachi, steadied myself in place, and met his gaze.

"You're not even phased."

"I've been cut too many times to give a shit."

"You faced Jigen, too, then?"

"Yeah," I gritted my teeth, "and he's a better swordsman than you."

Mendo punched me in the face, shouting, "Why did you hide your strength? We lost Kokora, Tavon, and you did nothing to help."

He was really blaming me for what'd happened. I got angry.

Mendo punched me again, but I held on to the blade while heart beat became louder and more rapid. From within, rage overtook my center, shout out with electric currents that spread in every direction. Rage made my body swell, momentarily stopped all the bleeding; rage made me see.

Mendo's odachi no longer belonged to him.

When he tried to draw back, sensing a change in my aura, I didn't budge. Mendo struggled to retrieve his weapon; all the while, my presence magnified itself.

I saw blue extensions of light curl out from Mendo's body.

From my own, bleak darkness meshed with fragments of a dark rose rushed in a gale of wind around me. My muscles tensed; they contracted and relaxed involuntarily but within the same intervals. Veins I'd never noticed before suddenly jutted out along my arms.

"It can't be!" Mendo exclaimed. "You're just now..."

The ground cracked under my feet. My mind soared high, high and then into a soft emptiness punctuated by rhythmic contractions. I was a temple, collecting energy that had been reserved for the day it was made real.

I Awakened.

I broke Mendo's odachi in two. I shoved my half of the blade through his right shoulder and pushed him back using the flat palm of my other hand.

Mendo was thrown from his feet as a stream of his own blood whirled by his eyes. I thought that he'd fall on his back, but he performed an agile backflip and landed in a kneeling position.

"Impossible. Two different auras belonging to the same person..."

"'Two?'"

I didn't recognize my voice; it sounded deeper.

I wanted to know more, to feel what it was like to be Awakened. What I didn't realize is that all Awakenings came with potential costs, and mine, specifically, had been a more unusual one.

Mendo's lips were moving. He was saying something important, but I couldn't hear it. My vision blurred, then it went black. I felt like I was still there, but I was vulnerable.

I was afraid, and then...

It was over.

2

Departure

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"You boys are one and the same," Ududa scolded Mendo and I while patching us both up in the cruiser assigned to our group.

Mendo had purposefully seated himself away from me so that Ududa would be forced to walk between the two of us as he threw a tantrum. Although I'd been the most injured party, Mendo acted like it was my fault that he was here.

"Tall, dark, and lonely Mendo," Ududa murmured while winding a healing web around his shoulder, "it doesn't pay to mistreat old students, you know?

"You're now the Sixth Seneschal, with Tavon taking the spot of the Fifth—"

"Something that should have never happened," Mendo replied darkly.

"Whether or not you agree with him, the Father's decision has been made. Everything he's done has been for the sole purpose of our survival."

"Ududa," I asked, "where's Shikami?"

She didn't say anything right away.

"I'm afraid that he desired other things in this world, dear. The life of a Clan soldier wasn't for him."

"He... left? Osotone, too?"

"Mm. Dear, one cannot leave the Meiziki Clan voluntarily..."

"What are you saying?"

"What do you think she's saying, idiot!" Mendo barked. "She did what she always does: she ate them."

"Ate them?" I couldn't take his answer seriously—mostly because I hadn't picked up any evil intent from Ududa herself.

"Yes, Tavon, she either ate them or used them for her experiments. Ududa's not a real trainer; she's a witch, so anyone who's ever been assigned to her has always been viewed as her most recent project. Your friends were no different."

"..."

I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't look at Ududa anymore. If it was true, then I'd hate her in the same way I hated Jigen.

We were docked at a power station not so far from the massive hyper rail known as E. P. Deltan (Exit Point Deltan) and waiting alongside hundreds of other cruisers that'd been given new paint jobs in order to blend in with those used by civilians. The Meiziki Armada had been redesigned to fit the flow of Citadel traffic, but there was one common flaw which would've given them away had anyone looked hard enough.

Legislation had already been passed declaring that humans were prohibited from piloting cruisers on their own. Modern vehicles were being equipped with the prototypes of what's now automatons who drive for you, but the Meiziki Clan had ignored this legislation. Because of this oversight, we drew immediate concern when dozens of commuters noticed an uncommon influx of self-driven cruisers pouring into about eighteen different power stations outside of E. P. Deltan.

This factored heavily into our early detection. This, as well as the fact that the Ministry had observed a steady but slow stream of our vessels over the past few hours. When noticing that none of the initial cruisers we'd sent out had returned, they were the first to warn the Bureau about us making an escape.

Therefore, approximately an hour prior to us hitting the Exit Point, the Dawn Bureau had sought permission to detain us en masse. They planned to start with those at the head of the formation which would eventually emerge from the gates leading out of the Citadel and into the World Below.

The Bureau had done everything right. It didn't take them long to obtain full permission to do as they please. At the same time, they'd already called ahead to the authorities posted at the checkpoint, warning the commander of the guard's watch to stop anyone from leaving without explicit approval handed down from the Bureau itself.

They'd moved to conquer, and thus we were to be trapped at the Exit Point while hundreds of agents, partnered with local Zone cops, would close in and put a permanent end to the Meiziki Clan.

It's too bad for them that they failed to account for our full response.

\-----

"Now will be the moment of truth," Ududa muttered while our cruiser hovered within a protective ring of the Armada.

Far behind us, we watched as a cruiser that looked like Labou's was intercepted by at least four police cruisers.

"Hmph." Mendo scoffed while studying his Kom Cell's screen. "I'll be leaving now. The Father prepared a personal cruiser for me, and I've no desire to waste any more time around the one who killed my mentor."

"He had no choice, Mendo." Ududa spoke for me.

"Tavon, who everyone claims is powerful, should've paid Modagi enough respect to restrain himself." He glared my way. "Modagi's life was the price for your stupidity. Why, when it was needed so much earlier, did you just happen to Awaken now? Tavon... why did you wait so long—she died because of you!"

With his true pain exposed, Mendo tore his gaze away and proceeded to keep his eyes fixed on the ground.

\-----

A long but narrow vessel, several feet longer than our own and shining with a sleek black interrupted by pale, slanted windows, pulled up next to us. Its front half narrowed further into a coned, metallic nose; at both sides, wings extended into round, bulky barrels that blasted flames into the air behind them.

When close enough, both cruisers automatically shifted into lower gears. This caused each barrel to cool down enough so that metal panels could slide away from both cruisers and give way to a bridge made of netite.

Mendo crossed over a magnetic path, saying nothing else after he'd accused me of intentionally killing his master. This left behind Ududa, me, and a few other footsoldiers who'd been garrisoned on a lower floor of our cruiser.

After he'd left, I hurried to ask Ududa again: "Did you really kill them?"

"Heh." She stared right at me. "What do you think, my dear? From what you know about me, can you really say what I would or would not do?"

"You couldn't have," I said.

From behind her mat of hair, it looked like Ududa grinned.

"And why do you say that?"

"Because Shikami and Oso were too talented for you to get rid of them. Shikami's research was valuable—I know it was—and Oso had a power that stood a chance against the Demon Knight! It'd be stupid to hurt either one of them."

"Hmm. And so it would be," was all she said on that matter, which irritated me a little.

Her silence, the way she smiled, and her choice of words all tied into a bigger message. She was lying, but why?

"Other than those two, there is at least one more who won't be traveling with us to the outside world—oh, look now, the Father's was allowed through!"

\-----

Like she'd said, the Father was the first of us to pass through E. P. Deltan, and, behind him, there continued a line of traffic created by the Clan's vessels having been granted access. One lone cruiser hovered above the masses, and we eventually passed under a pilot who had to have been Abul. Beside him, I watched as Mendo's cruiser pulled up and also hovered in place.

All of us, gathered together in this way, looked like one big procession, with Abul and Mendo orchestrating our safe passage. A demon and a human combined their ability to tap into the minds of those around them, and this is how the Meiziki Clan was able to get its first break. By the time the Bureau had caught up to us, the last of our squads were passing through. Though they'd arrived with a decent amount of their own cruisers, there weren't enough of them to chase us all; moreover, there'd been few preparations in play in case we'd actually managed to get past what should've been an invulnerable countermeasure.

The Bureau thought that it would be an easy bust, but they hadn't counted on a demon helping reopen the gates to the World Below. And, once we'd made it out—with Ududa's cruiser stationed at the middle of the pack—the Father commanded his entire fleet to move South, toward Alandra.
3

Pursuit

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Mendo was right. Two separate tau emissions can just be seen when you're in a resting state. One the color of blood and the other the shadow of the dark."

While Ududa lectured me, and our procession into the bright blue ahead continued, I sat in place and tried to recall my fight with Mendo. I'd hurt him. I wasn't weak anymore.

"I recognize only one of these emissions: the red.

"A cage of intertwined beams of vermilion light currently wraps around your entire body. Before, your tau was mostly collected at your center, but your roots have grown quite a bit. Tavon, dear, you unleashed a secondary force upon your Awakening, which, normally, signifies that a certain zol user might have either schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder.

"This second aura of yours...

"Hmm. It's very dark, but it speaks to a pain which has gone too long without expressing itself. Perhaps, in your reluctance to Awaken, you provoked the wrath of something worse which comes from within. You've Awakened, this is clear, for your power shows potential I would've never before believed.

"However, the Meiziki Clan is on a perilous course. The Father's scheming has turned us into political outcasts, which is why Shikami and Osotone would've been in danger were they to pursue this life any further. I recommended them to someone else, just as First Seneschal Modagi saved Samazoshi's life by sending him to study under the tutelage of the sage, Fatima."

"This journey," I started, "you don't think we'll make it?"

"Heh." Ududa shook her head. "That's not exactly it, dear, but rather close.

"On the contrary, there will be those who make it, of course, but no one will escape the suffering which lies on the way to come."

\-----

As everyone expected, the Dawn Bureau wasn't giving up so easily.

They couldn't follow us outside of their official jurisdiction, and their first arrests were met with suicide attempts by footsoldiers who'd sworn their full loyalty to the Meiziki Clan. Several of the nano-freaks they'd brought carried explosives small enough to blast open the head of whoever used them with the intention of being a sacrifice.

That day, a fairly significant number of both our men and trained addicts gave their lives when the Father asked it of them.

I think, in retrospect, that maybe our success while in the Citadel had truly provided decent lives to everyone under the control of the Father. Although he'd been a businessman at heart, his actions had contributed to luxuries that had otherwise been unaffordable to me in the past. The footsoldiers believed in the Father—they believed in the myth of the White Boar, and so they died for him, shocking the Citadel media while pushing the news of our escape to the top of everyone's interests.

Within hours, the Meiziki Clan had become the Dawn Federation's most hated enemy.

Because the Bureau didn't possess jurisdiction over surrounding lands, a joint task force, consisting of both Knights from the Ministry as well as military sentinels, were deployed to follow us in a small group.

Unfortunately for the Federation, the Father had planned for us to use the majority of cruiser fuel available to push into Alandra. Once we were deep enough in Alandran territory, Dawn Federation authorities would be forced into a retreat, as any attacks on Alandran soil would constitute an immediate threat to an enemy government.

Rather than worry about pursuing the Father's entire Armada, the task force sent after us concentrated on trying to find the head of the snake: Cengiz himself.

This was when Labou displayed his brilliance.

He enacted a specialized strategy: communion.

Communion meant that all cruisers were to swap passengers, creating an intricate network which would span the skies as hundreds of footsoldiers were transferred into different vessels. During this process the Father was to be moved to the very middle of the formation, buried beneath a cluster of cruisers equipped with heavy weapon systems.

I was transferred over to a cruiser piloted by both Muonsaga and Shotobai, both of whom had left the controls to a lower-ranking footsoldier while they used virtual reality headsets to play video games.

"Hey, it's Tavon!" Shoto exclaimed when they'd seen me after what felt like ages.

It seemed like the Father had arranged for the three of us to be together. After all, there was a third headset, and so I played The Legend of Isolakandi with them while Federation authorities continued to search each cruiser.

\-----

Labou's strategy had created a big problem for the Citadel authorities. There was already a limited number of troops assigned to investigate. Beyond that, there was no way for them to distinguish the true heads of the organization among hundreds of similar-looking cruisers.

Their search would take too much time, and it wasn't worth the Federation's effort to send a militarized unit after us when there were already enemy states positioned all around.

In short, the Father and Labou had managed to outsmart the Dawn Federation by exploiting its negative political relationships. Over time, the numbers pursuing us dwindled. A great desert spanned the land ahead, interrupted, at times, by small lakes dotted throughout the stretch of territory leading toward Alandra.

In the distance, I could just see broad columns spiraling toward the skies. The great city of Alandra was so vast and impressive that it looked as though it spanned the world in front of us.

Soon, we'd cross the Alandran Outskirts, moving fast toward the closest body of water: the Golden River.
4

The Outskirts

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"We made the news," Muon said.

Muonsaga was "Player One" in the game, and he'd gone through the virtual dungeons hundreds of times on his own. The game itself was designed for cooperative play, and so the three of us must've spent hours working together to complete complicated puzzles I wouldn't have understood by myself.

In the duration of this, the three of us were able to bond as the authorities continued to poach soldiers from all around. Occasionally, we'd be ordered to reposition ourselves subtly within the formation, outpacing Knights and police still seeking to indict whoever they could from the Meiziki Clan.

"That's just how it goes," Muon replied. "We got too big for the government to handle. It's only natural that they'd be afraid of us—but look at them now, thinned out as it is. The poor bastards are too scared to get close to the center, and it's because there are more of us than them."

"Every news station acts like we're the devil," I chimed in, "they paint the Meiziki as the root of all evil, as if they weren't a part of the problem."

"Right!" Shoto exclaimed. "And it's bullshit. We know why they started persecuting us: they didn't like that the Clan was performing better than the gangs they were paying off. They could've been our allies, but they snitched. Gangbangers, people who live to be 'hard,' were scared of us enough to go to the police."

"They don't fucking matter," Muonsaga said calmly.

Muon was dominating in the game, and he led us as the one player who knew how to handle every computerized enemy.

"The Meiziki Clan has moved on from the Citadel. Wherever we go, we can strike a profit."

"Not with the Father in power," Shoto replied. "He's got plans of his own, and I don't think he cares about how they affect us."

"..."

Muon said nothing and focused on the game instead.

"I think the police stopped following us," I said, letting my attention wander to take in a picture of tall, metal towers that reached high into the atmosphere and generated what was supposedly spherical forcefields, forcefields which made up the Alandran Wall.

"Tavon!" Muon barked. "You're getting fucking killed! Pay attention!"

My looked back at the screen and died before I could do anything.

"Goddammit!" Muon threw down his controller and strode off.

Shoto stood up to address him before I did, "Chill, dude, it's just a game."

Muon kicked at the ground. "I don't understand why he can't pay attention to something for more than five fucking seconds! He ruined the whole match!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I've been distracted by a lot lately. Have you guys seen Shana?"

They both took a moment to stare at me blankly.

"You mean, you don't know?" asked Shoto.

"Know what?"

Muon slapped his forehead, then he clarified: "Shana's a traitor, dumbass. She ran off like a week ago to avoid doing this stupid shit."

"I get the feeling that something else's bothering you," Shotobai confronted Muon. "You think you might be spending too much time around Jigen?"

"No." Muon spat. "He's taught me everything I need to know. With the two of us at the head of the Father's army, we'll be indestructible. Labou is the one who let Shanaxagora get away—and she was better than you, Shoto!" Muon pointed at him.

"Hey now," Shoto took a step forward, unconsciously reaching behind him as if a plate would appear at any second.

"His best student left," Muonsaga continued, "so what kind of Seneschal does that make him?"

"Dude," I said, "what's really bothering you?"

This staggered him.

"Wha-what?" he stuttered. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I don't trust Jigen," I said. "He cut me up just because he felt like it. I can't imagine what he might've done to y—"

"Enough." Muon said. "Let's play another round."

And we did, respecting his wishes for the time being—or at least until I got better at the game and managed to piss him off again because I'd improved.

Less than an hour passed, and I could just make out the distant shapes of hovering structures that were large enough to house hundreds. I saw buildings that curved at abnormal angles while also creating sufficient spaces for barracks, dining halls, and armories.

These portable monoliths formed what was known as a forward base of operations for an Alandran reconnaissance battalion, and, if we accidentally happened to move too close, we'd run the risk of inciting a war. The greatest danger was the size of the Father's Armada itself, which could've been seen as a deployment of soldiers sent from the Dawn Federation.

To avoid this, the Father had ordered all cruisers to scatter into loose formations that would circumvent their forces while joining with a greater movement toward the East. From there, just as we managed to shake the rest of the Federation's authorities, we moved Southeast, encountering the beginning of the Golden River the following afternoon.

Thick, yellow smoke sprang up from a burning lake which reflected the light of the Sun. The Sun's very path aligned with the direction of the River, a river that had been irradiated a long time ago, back when the world was young. Mists of gold and orange draped over our path in stilted arcs; the skies darkened while we passed over a wasteland that was said to have been inhabited by feral demons.

Eventually, the Golden River would take on the pure color of its name. The skies would clear, and we'd be able to see faint traces of blue before the night came.

Before the wasteland was behind us, however, we'd be lured into a cruel trick.

5

Shotobai

\-----

Tavon

\-----

On the day of the Father's second briefing, the three of us had just started drinking after discovering that some of the other footsoldiers had smuggled alcohol into their private cruisers.

We outranked them, so we took advantage of the opportunity to play the same video game, but drunk. This was the only way I could pull off finally beating Muon's ass.

Shoto went for a different tactic.

"This mission's stupid, if you think about it."

"What are you on about now, Shoto?" Muon frowned. "You sound like Shana."

"Listen to me," Shotobai continued, "we haven't stopped at a power station since leaving the Citadel."

"That's true," I chimed in. "And there are no plans to stop, are there?"

"What? What the fuck are you guys talking about? We should have some reserves of fuel available."

"That's not how that works," Shoto responded patiently. "Do you really think that we have enough fuel to power the entire Armada? How long do you think it will take the Citadel to send someone after us? Where are we supposed to go after Aletheia's Ocean, Muon?"

"I..."

"You don't know." Shoto said.

"You don't, either!"

"Right," Shoto nodded curtly while crossing his arms over his chest. "And that's why it's important for us to build trust amongst each other. If we don't know enough, then we could be throwing away our lives away for nothing."

"What makes you distrust him so much, Shoto? The Father looked after my master and molded him into the warrior he is today, in case you weren't paying attention. No one can stand against Jigen, but he trusts the Father, and so I must trust in the Father."

"Ugh." I groaned. "Can't you see what's going to happen when each cruiser is at its limit?"

"Stop talking and unpause the game, Tavon."

\-----

Muonsaga kept resisting attempts by us to find out anything about his training with Jigen. His evasiveness suggested that something wasn't quite right about what he'd gone through, so I continued trying to figure out how I could gain his trust.

Shotobai, who'd taken four shots by now, chose to tell us the truth about who he was:

"When I was younger, things seemed so simple."

"Oh yeah?" Muon nonchalantly inquired.

"Yeah." Shoto continued without another pause, "There were the strong, then there were the weak. My dad was one of the strong, in this case, and my sister was one of the weak."

"..."

Muon kept quiet, still trying to show his value by leading our virtual team against numbers we couldn't possibly handle.

"He was an asshole. My dad used to hit my sister and me—but when it came to me, he didn't always hold back. It wasn't until later when I found out that he was hurting my sister in other ways I wasn't comfortable with.

"One night, he tried to do it in front of me.

"Dad tried it, so I bashed his head in with one of his own guns when it didn't fire right away. I killed my dad... I never did come to terms with it, if we're being honest."

"You're still trying to fuck with me," Muon said.

Muonsaga acted like he didn't care, but he quickly died in our shared campaign, ending the virtual match. He took off his headset and said, "My master is a good man. I know that everyone thinks he's insane, but I've never witnessed a person with so much loyalty. Nothing would make him betray the Father, and his skill with the sword approaches new heights every day. His way must work..."

Muon looked away.

"Genzaon's sacrifice served a purpose, so it's all got to be worth it. My training's brutal, yeah, but that's because I matter to him."

"I don't understand," I said. "You've justified something you're not telling us."

"Right," Shoto exclaimed, "so Jigen has been cutting you? Like he cut Tavon?"

Muon shook his head fast—too fast. His face was flushed; he blinked.

"My master's training program was intended to make me better than you, so no, I haven't suffered any abuse."

Shotobai studied him for a while. Then he said, "Poor guy."

"Don't look down on me, Shoto." Muon tensed while squaring off with Shoto.

"Gentlemen." Labou startled us all by making an instant connection with Shoto's Kom Cell; he appeared as a small hologram and said to us, "Pardon me for the interruption, but the Father has ordered you all to attend his second briefing.

"The Federation has labeled the Meiziki Clan as fugitives, but they've retreated for the time being. The Father requires that his most dedicated personnel appear before him in order to deliver his spoken intent, which will ultimately decide whether or not the Meiziki Clan will continue to exist."
6

Deliberations

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Within the Meiziki Clan, there will be nine Seneschals. Nine soldiers will lead the way as we cross Aletheia's Ocean, and those nine will reap the benefits of loyalty.

"This is a time to remember where you came from and who brought you out of that," the Father said to a room consisting of only me, Ganymedes, Shotobai, Muonsaga, and Thokozani.

"A being from another realm has spoken to me of the Center, of Aletheia itself. Because of my connection with Phaedra, I know for certain that the Meiziki, who swell with mighty warriors such as yourselves, have been blessed with an oracle which will speak to an incredible future.

"Out of those present, one of you will be deemed unworthy. I'm afraid that this is only fair because this is the last real challenge I'll present to you before you're all promoted to Seneschals. Remember that direct servitude to me is the highest honor possible within the Clan itself, and so I leave this honor to those who find it within themselves to make an important decision:

"One of you will be deemed unworthy, but I leave this decision up to you. All of you will decide, based on a vote, who will be the one to commit seppuku, as tradition dictates."

The room went silent, with our group stunned by the implications of his words.

"As I said, this is the last lesson which you must undergo, a lesson which will refine your judgments when choosing pupils of your own. In order to be a true arbiter below the rank of someone like me, you must strive for indifference.

"By tomorrow morning, once we've reached the cosmic tides heralding Aletheia's Ocean, I expect all of you to have come to a decision. One of you must die, and the others will go with me into the land of gods."

\-----

That night, Abul sent an envoy who asked for me to ride with him over to the demon's personal ship.

Fear of Abul himself was widespread, and thus he was given his own cruiser and taught how to pilot it by Labou himself. Within its interior, velvet carpet lined the floors. Tapestries displaying strange runes hung around the meditation chamber created by Abul. The gods of his predecessors were no longer his, and so he sat in silent contemplation.

Silent, until I broke his trance.

"I thought you'd grown scared of me, too," he said, remaining still.

Grey flames rebounded off his body.

"I saw through the eyes of Shotobai. He was the weakest-willed, mentally, and so I'm fully aware of what the Father plans to do. His plans obviously don't include the aid of a demon, and nine is a very small number.

"As we speak, my friend, there have been reports of some of the rear cruisers disappearing into the deepest parts of the River. This was all intentional."

"Why do you think that?"

"All vessels at the rear will deteriorate first. Those at the middle flank will come second. Toward the end, Tavon, even those who've traveled all this way by our sides could be tragically shorted."

"So far, the Father's shown interest only in himself. Other than Jigen or Labou, I can't think of anyone else he favors."

"He favors you, too, like Naizo did."

"I don't see why."

"Because Cengiz has noticed similarities between you and Jigen. In you, he sees a loyal soldier who isn't preoccupied with killing the way Jigen is."

"We've been in this situation before," I said. "Are you telling me that we should betray him like we betrayed Naizo?"

"In your mind, Tavon, do you see any other option? Would you rather kill one of your own friends?"

"No. I wouldn't."

"Then you know what to do, even without me around. I'm not trying to manipulate you."

Abul stood and turned to face me.

"We fought against death together, and that makes you my friend—even if you are a human. Believe me when I say that the Father's behavior has gotten out of hand. He thinks that a god has been speaking to him through his dreams.

"In the end, we have two roads ahead of us:

"One, rely on a madman's logic, which will result in many soldiers losing their lives. Or, two, which involves us taking over the Clan for ourselves and potentially seeking out a safe harbor before we reach Aletheia's Ocean. No matter what, Tavon, we cannot allow the Father to drive us on that far. If he does, everyone will suffer."

\-----

I met everyone else back at the cruiser shared by me, Shoto, and Muon. Before dusk, it was agreed upon that we'd all meet to discuss what'd happened.

"We can't do this." Shoto was the first to speak.

Thokozani followed with a firm nod. "I'm not interested in hurting my own comrades. Who the hell is the Father compared to us?"

"He's the one who holds the future of the Clan," Muon responded darkly, drawing everyone's attention.

"Muon," I said to him, "do you actually believe in his visions?"

"Yes, dumbass!"

His jaw clenched, then he said:

"Jigen told me that the Father had dreamed of rescuing him from the slums before he found him. The Father's guide, Phaedra, could be more powerful than all of us combined! If he receives dreams from the gods themselves, then who are we to question someone who helped raise us?"

"He didn't raise us!" Shoto barked. "Are you kidding me? The Seneschals are the ones who've ensured the success of the Meiziki Clan—it's the Father's greed that fucked everyone over, and now he wants to screw us again! Can't you see that?"

Shoto stepped to Muon, who prepared to engage him before Thoko intervened.

"Enough, idiots." she said and then turned to address Muonsaga, "Do you actually want one of us to be sacrificed?"

"No! I—"

"Muon," I said calmly, "we've got to stand together. We're your friends—we've all suffered, like you, and we all want the same thing!"

"And how do you think we'll be able to beat the Seneschals, huh?" Muon went red in the face. "They're too strong."

"We have Abul," I said. "A demon prince. There's a plan he's been working on, and we think it just might work. Muon, if we can force the Father to submit, we can save the Meiziki from annihilation. Do you understand now?"

"..."
7

Selection

\-----

Tavon

\-----

For the ceremony which would decide our fates, the Father had slowed our progress into the violent waves that served as an introduction to the chaos known as Aletheia's Ocean.

Several hundred miles before misty, emerald tides, a group of cruisers congregated to form a network that was part moa, part netite.

Flexible metal alloy extended from four cruisers that hovered over the Father's personal vessel. Plates of moa met in the center, expanding before producing a small field of netite to cover the natural gaps in between them. This would serve as a platform to host the consequences of a decision we'd made as a group.

With fog the color of moss steadily encroaching upon us, the Father positioned all students before him on individual, red mats. On both sides, the Seneschals flanked us; past them, a small group of footsoldiers stood by...

And Abul had disguised himself as one of them.

He wasn't capable of bypassing Phaedra in order to manipulate the Father to his will, and so we'd agreed upon a target who would prove just as useful.

The group of us students, having come to a general consensus, bided our time as the Father made a short speech:

"Soldiers of the Meiziki Clan, I want you all to know something before we begin the Selection process. You may have heard of other warriors running out of fuel, of them being lost to the River, and this is true," he said. "It's because those of you standing before me are also those who I consider to be superior warriors.

"In my dreams, Aletheia is a place designated for the perfect members of our species. It is a truthful place, where all that was hidden before should come to light, where the Meiziki Clan will find illumination as well as another name. The family we build here will mean everything going forward, which is why, like me, I want you all to understand what it's like to lose someone important to you."

A long pause followed, then he asked: "Have you all come to an agreement?"

"Yes, Father!" Muon bowed.

"Good." He smiled. "Because there is yet another condition I've chosen to include during Selection; that is, that he or she who swings the blade which severs the chosen one's head from their body must do with vital precision. You must cut so as to leave a strip of flesh attaching the head to its body; the head must then fall into its open arms, as customs from the Mosashi Interpretation dictate.

"This ceremony is revered for a reason. To my side, I've prepared a bowl of rice set next to a pen and notepad. The person you've selected will be expected to complete a death poem.

"So, I ask again, which of you will write the national anthem of the Meiziki Clan?"

Instinctively, I looked toward Abul, who could no longer hide the flames around himself. Footsoldiers backed away and instantly went for their rifles.

Something was wrong.

Abul should've broken through by now. With Jigen sitting the closest to the Father—

Jigen got to his feet, keeping his eyes shut as he contemplated something. His reaction drew everyone's attention at once.

"This was your plan?" he asked quietly.

The Father remained expressionless, and the other Seneschals waited calmly as we all stood to face judgment. I readied myself to fight if necessary, although our chances of winning without Jigen's help were slim.

Jigen opened his eyes, and fury escaped from them: stark-hued rays were evoked as he glared at us all. Meanwhile, Jigen's tau circled his form as he experienced his own Awakening.

He moved closer, shouting, "You shitheads enlisted the aid of a demon to help you commit a conspiracy. Just now, I felt that creep's hands prodding at my mind...

"GODDAMMIT!" Jigen clenched his fists, shaking in place as the world around us was painted in pure hatred.

As Abul came forward, Mendo intervened to keep the two of them from getting too close to one another. "Fourth Seneschal Jigen," he exclaimed—

But Jigen's eyes were blindingly intense. Mendo looked away quickly and said nothing else. Abul, on the other hand, waited by my side.

We made eye contact, nodded, then—

"Wait a minute." The Father held up his hand.

"Father," Jigen growled, "just let me kill them all."

"That can wait, Jigen. Tavon played an integral part in this as well. Tavon, why did you betray me? After having turned on the Nagao, I'd believed you to be a new man. Have I been wrong about your character this whole time?"

The Father uncorked a liquor bottle and took a second to chug it.

"Father!" Jigen screamed while drawing both swords.

"Jigen," the Father's expression darkened. "I'm very proud of your growth. You are my best disciple, through and through, but, in this instance, I must order you to stand down."

"But why?"

Jigen's tau hardened around him. In a moment, he suddenly appeared tired.

"They've all committed treason! They should ALL be executed!"

"And then we will have no one to brave the dangers of Aletheia's Ocean."

"Fool!" Abul shouted, startling everyone. "Aletheia's Ocean is not just dangerous—it's the body of a dead god! We cannot venture that far into the unknown."

"What are you talking about?" The Father leaned forward.

"It's more nonsense," Jigen spat.

"It's absolutely not nonsense, Fif—Fourth Seneschal Jigen!" Abul braved looking into his eyes. "Aletheia's Ocean is known to my race as 'Embodied Death.' It's a place meant neither for humans nor demons; instead, it's better that we avoid it altogether—that's what this is about."

"Interesting." The Father rubbed his chin, then he smirked. "So you fucked me over because you wanted to drive somewhere else? Where did you desire to go instead, a demon's nest?"

"We want to save as many lives as we can," Shotobai declared. "I don't care what your dreams tell you, losing this many men recklessly chasing a vision isn't a good idea."

"I concur."

Everyone's attention was given over to Labou, who continued while addressing the Father directly:

"Fuel reserves will be almost entirely depleted once we've reached this 'Center.' Afterwards, what would the gods have us do?"

"That's not for us to decide." The Father scowled. "How can you presume to know the will of a higher power, Labou? If Cephamatu spoke to you in a dream, would you listen to his words?"

"What has Cephamatu promised you?" Abul asked, immediately prompting a long pause as we awaited the Father's response.

Cengiz took another drink while observing all of us.

"Jigen," he said, "would you please lead the other Seneschals in detaining all conspirators? They've defied the words of a deity, and so I have no use for them. Leave Muonsaga be; arrest Third Seneschal Labou instead."
8

The Time Sutra

\-----

Tavon

\-----

It was like old times, as each of us were assigned under the watch of a different Seneschal.

I wasn't sure where everyone else was sent, but I was placed under the care of First Seneschal Ududa. It was then that every fear I'd ever had about who she was occupied my thoughts.

While my hands and feet were bound by moa-made cuffs, she'd given me a cot to sleep on and went about organizing the medical supplies she'd brought on board. She set a series of vials in a glass container, and I was reminded of Shikami's personal collection of serums he'd been developing. This reminder caused me to reflect on my current situation.

Because I was most recently granted the title of 'Seneschal,' my betrayal hit him the hardest. I imagined that he'd left me with her because all of her other students had disappeared, and it bothered me so much that I eventually got bold enough to speak.

"First Seneschal Ududa," I said.

"Yes," came an emotionless reply.

"Would you please tell me the truth about Shikami and Oso? You didn't kill them, right?"

"..."

Ududa kept her back turned to me, then she said: "Not directly. Perhaps I killed them in a different way."

"W-What do you mean?"

Ududa faced me, grinning through yellow teeth. "Hmm, I don't know... some say the world's quite the killer itself these days."

Relief. I felt relief.

"So, you set them free? You got them out of the Fourth Quadrant?"

"My dear, I sent them packin' after being forced to listen to the nonsensical babblings of Cengiz when he began planning this mess. Do not assume that I am a batty old woman, boy, for I am well aware of how foolhardy his 'vision' is."

"Then why won't you do anything to stop him?" I sat up and tensed when realizing that Ududa wasn't necessarily my friend, either.

"Hmph." She shook her head. "That is the mindset of today's youth, I suppose. Loyalties always shifting."

"He's going to get a lot of people killed, Seneschal."

"Child, the Father is the one who holds the Clan together. Do you know how he's been able to accomplish the unity he's spent his entire life building?"

"Money."

"Loyalty. Money will propel one into a greater state of being, but it is loyalty which sustains this state forevermore.

"Cengiz built his name by fostering undying loyalty within the highest ranks of his army. We, the Seneschals, are destined to serve him until we are no longer needed. That is the life we have chosen, Tavon, and so we must follow him into that darkness...

"Here," she said, handing me the same notepad which had been intended for the Father's requested "death poem."

On it, she'd written something in a language I didn't recognize. Around her words, mandalas intersected to form patterns overlaying but not obscuring what looked to be a prayer:

"Over time, above law. Still, like water.

"Gentle, embodying sea. Run, river, run.

"Move out of time. Out of what binds me."

\-----

"A sutra," she said to me. "Words that you reflect on while deep in your daily meditations. This is a craft which speaks volumes of what's in my heart, my child.

"The Father grew old, like you will one day. He faced innumerable hardships different from your own, and I believe that his unshakable faith could be tied to something real. Although he sounds like a madman, child, Cengiz believes in what he's saying. I've given him my word; it would be immoral for me to betray him.

"Yet...

"Up ahead lies devastation, Tavon. When I was about a decade younger, footsoldiers would tell stories of Aletheia's Ocean. They claimed that those who traveled this way, whether by sea or air, never came back. Federation cartographers omitted its location on all maps, with it having since been considered as hazardous as a manifestation of the Dusk. It was said that if you ceased travel just before you crossed over into another world, you could feel echoes of dread powerful enough to keep you away for good."

"I need to get to Abul then. We can stop this all from happening!"
9

Aletheia's Ocean

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Why not try simple meditation?" Ududa suggested.

"Huh? How would tha—"

"Abul is a creature of the mind, is he not?"

"He's not a 'creature,' and it might be too late."

Green mists engulfed us; the way ahead was barely visible underneath a dark sky. The ocean below began to no longer move in waves, appearing more like a thick, muddy liquid which all but froze in place.

Dark skies turned to jade, complete with moss-colored fog condensing in the atmosphere above. After a time, the way forward was totally obscured, and yet the Father kept us on the same path. I slowly began to understand what Ududa had said when she'd mentioned his relentless conviction.

She interrupted my thoughts:

"During meditation, if you reach out to Abul, I'm certain that he will answer."

"Seneschal," I said, too shocked to move. "Are you seeing the same world as me?"

"Yes, dear, and you must enter a meditative state, as I will, bearing a sutra of my own to guide me through the waters of insanity. If you look on ahead, you'll see that this great body shows only black below, with small insects hovering above its surface. Far beneath us, I sense a resonating hum which describes something terrible—either that, or it's an illusion, and this 'hum' follows us as we persist.

"Oh dear," Ududa exclaimed. "I fear the essence of this land has nearly robbed me of my good sense already—Tavon!" she looked my way, "Do as I said! Reach out to Abul!"

\-----

It was harder to focus than I'd believed at first, and it was all because reality kept changing before me. What was a great ocean shone in the presence of new skies above, skies that looked as if they'd been painted into existence. Over our journey toward the Center, the realm above became more surreal, like a howling, rippling nightmare which glowed with five moons colored like blood. In some corners of the heavens, I spotted black bodies which rippled too...

Rippled and...

I felt lightheaded. Ududa was seated cross-legged before me, pressing her palms together in prayer. Whenever she felt lost in her trance, the Second Seneschal reached down, grabbing her sutra, and recited this:

"In all that's groaning, grumbling, and in pain.

"In all that lives,

"In all that hurts,

"Let me remember to hope."

I couldn't shut my eyes like she could. There was no way I could focus when eyeless faces of agony appeared in the skies, opened their jaws, and screamed across the realm. The cruiser shifted and swayed, then it disappeared beneath my feet.

Finally, I understood why—but I'd waited too long to prevent what was happening to me.

I had visions of walking up to Beatrice, from the outside of a restaurant, and shooting her. When I strode up to the body, I saw that her faced had changed and that I was looking at Shanaxagora. Shana smiled at me, then she got on her knees while groaning with effort. She stood upright, and her eyes became alight with black flames. Her smiled broadened, showing long, sharp teeth and torn flesh exposing both of her cheekbones...

Then she vanished.

I sunk deep into my emotions, without any control of what I was doing. I broke down in front of Ududa, who remained calm and diligent while in an unshakable trance. I grabbed at my hair, stared into nothingness, and tears rolled down my cheeks.

My sobbing was unconscious. My shoulders and chest heaved. I felt nothing but the exhaustion carried by grief overtake me. Grief was the worst demon I'd ever come face-to-face with, especially because it had an effect I couldn't put into words. It tore at my heart as I relived my guilt. I felt responsible for her death, because I was too stupid to protect her the way I should've been.

I was burdened with sorrow over the loss of Shana, thinking that rising up against the Father earlier could've prevented her from leaving. With that in mind, I kept sinking. Down into a bitter spiral of the outcomes of my actions. I questioned every choice I'd ever made and eventually felt as though I'd thrown myself at death, hoping for the best. Despair set in; I could no longer see with my own eyes. I couldn't feel myself breathe—couldn't feel myself be.

I cleared my mind before the grief got too bad. To be honest, it was heavy shit... I didn't want to live.

Even after that, it was as though any value I'd attached to my life had been ripped away, gone forever in an endless torrent of futures I'd never have.

Inside, I wasn't good enough, but I knew that I had to follow Ududa's orders: I entered a trance of my own, mimicking her by focusing on the sutra she'd given me. If I wanted to achieve a true state of nonthought, I had to suppress every idea that threatened to break loose into a darker vision.

As we traversed the body of a dead deity, I came to know that decay could exist outside of the human realm, and this form of decay was unstoppable. This body threatened to grab your mind, to bash it into senselessness, and I fought against it through a personal journey toward inward emptiness. Once I'd arrived at nonthought, all notions of my presence in the world vanished.

For a brief time, I really felt like I'd disappeared from existence, then...

Light beamed from above, giving vibrant color to a new world—one where I stood upon a cliff, overlooking thousands of strangely-shaped buildings carved from rock and stone. Across each massive dwelling, I could just make out faint etchings that outlined abrasive and jagged entryways set below dark windows.

Both a golden sun and a golden sky served as the backdrop to this plane of reality. Even though the sudden warmth was comforting, I was afraid. I knew that this wasn't where I was supposed to be, but—

"How are you, my friend?"

Abul was at my side, smiling cheerfully.

"Abul!" I nearly shouted while feeling a rush of adrenaline course through me. "What is this place?"

"Be easy, friend." he said while lightly patting my shoulder, "I've brought you into my private haven, away from the torture of the dead ocean. While I was out of commission for so long, I found myself stuck in a world similar to this one. It was the shape of my thoughts that I had to change, so I shaped and meditated myself into a paradise. Tavon, this is where I draw the most influence from."

"Can humans do the same thing? Create their own worlds?"

"Possibly," he said. "Zol tends to grant the human race several privileges I'm not so fond of. As far as the training regimen I've followed, a state of pure emptiness is too familiar; it is, perhaps, why my body turned to the neutrality of grey."

"Can you still attack the same way as before?"

"Heh. No." Abul smirked. "I'm afraid I permanently wrecked myself by overdoing it. Any attempts at creating a blast of energy have caused me tremendous pain. I'm afraid that I'll have to settle for mind control—and if I can just get one more crack at Jigen—"

"It's no use," I said. "If he's Awakened from your influence, then he'll be less susceptible to another psychological attack."

"But I understand his barriers this time," Abul insisted. "Each human mind works according to unique gears which all are affected by what takes place in your environment. I think I can work my way around the mental walls he's put up."

"Abul," I cautioned him, "we can't take the brunt of the Father's army by ourselves. Muonsaga betrayed us, and he's just as good as me in a fight."

"Oh friend," Abul muttered, "why do you underestimate your own strength?

"There are reports now detailing mass desertion at the rear flank; the lowest-ranking are fleeing, and the Father has chosen not to chase them down. Within the middle ranks, other soldiers have begun killing themselves. Incidents of self-inflicted gun wounds have risen sharply.

"As we speak, Tavon, the Seneschal assigned to watch over me, Mr. Sensitive, has been beset by a deep sadness that he can't seem to get over. So far, he hasn't hurt himself, but he's despondent."

"So it's not just me and Ududa."

"Clearly. Aletheia's Ocean is affecting everyone in different ways, though the common theme seems to be the spread of misery. Hopelessness. I felt awful sensations myself, and so I retreated into this sanctuary for the time being.

"The biggest risk to our staying here is that our physical bodies could still be harmed in the real world."

"We're safe from being manipulated, but we don't know what's out there waiting for us." I remarked.

"Exactly. The traces of life left behind by a dead god can appear in multiple forms; with spiritual decay, there comes the introduction of beings that often devour what's left behind. We'll have to awaken soon, unfortunately. Somehow, we'll have to consciously experience dread while keeping the real world in view. There's no telling how the other Seneschals may have been affected..."

\-----

"Jigen's begun quite an awful massacre," Ududa said to me while maintaining a calm disposition.

I decided to look to her for guidance in how to overcome the dead god's illusions, and so she broke her trance to have me join her in a conscious form of meditation wherein I kept my eyes open.

While I struggled to contemplate linearly, to singularly focus on one object or idea to distract me, Ududa checked the reports sent to her Kom Cell that relayed everyone's statuses.

"He's been visiting other vessels near the rear of the formation. At first, it was discrete, but word abounds of Jigen slaughtering for no genuine reason."

"What's wrong with him?" I asked her.

Above us now stars like embers, all red and blue, dotted the atmosphere.

"Jigen's always had a twisted disposition, I'm afraid. Since the beginning, he took an interest in brutally maiming the pets gifted to him by the Father. From there, he used to wander the streets, drinking and looking for trouble. Jigen prefers a path punctuated solely by bloodshed, and Aletheia's Ocean has more than likely amplified his baser instincts.

"Because of his actions, Tavon, more continue to desert. They're all starting to run away at last, understanding that this is an impossible endeavor. Do you see that great image which lurks over the horizon?"

With one bony finger, Ududa pointed to an outline that was almost too faint to make out. The more I looked, the more details became clear to me.

Faints lines marked the colossal body of some being which had stood hundreds of miles tall, dominating the Ocean itself. Multiple jaws issued shadowed fangs out of more than one of the many faces that composed its upper torso. Amidst the painted stars, bulbous heads stalked us from between several pairs of skeletal wings. These wings spanned an incredible distance before disappearing into the fog ahead.

"That thing..." My trance had been broken, and I stuttered in horror, "i-is it?"

"Alive?" Ududa chuckled. "No. Not anymore. In fact, I believe that image is what could be known as a 'trace,' a vestige of what came before it. Gods do not die in the same way humans do; more often than not, what's left of them struggles desperately so that it won't fade, as everything must."

At the base of the dead god's image, what looked like tall, curving ridges emerged, exposing the beginning of a mountain. This mountain climbed all the way into darkness, far beyond what the eye could see.

A cruiser pulled next to our own, and a newcomer requested permission to get onboard. Ududa accepted his request, gathered herself, and bowed as Mendo entered our vessel.

To my surprise, Mendo bowed to the both of us.

"Forgive me, Seneschal Ududa, but I've actually come to speak with Tavon."

"Oh?" Ududa crowed. "And what business might you have with a traitor, dear Mendo?"

"He's not a traitor." Mendo stated calmly. "If Abul believed their actions to be just, then I trust in Abul's better judgment—especially in this case."

Mendo turned to address Ududa.

"You know what must be done."

"The time has passed for affirmative action, Mendo. Now that we've gone this far, we've no choice but to continue toward the prophesied 'Center.' If we turned back, we'd surely all run out of fuel before we left Aletheia's Ocean."

"You're suggesting that we keep letting him run things then?"

"Dear, listen to me:

"Everyone who's left, who's still loyal to the Clan, will not serve any of us in the same way that they're used to serving the Father. If we remove the head of our organization, the resulting chaos would ensure our doom, Mendo. Observe the methods of the wise, bide your time, and move only when you see no other option.

"Remember the path of the warrior," she said.

"Fine." Mendo scoffed. "But I'm putting together a small team regardless of the Father's wishes. Once we've gone as far as I can stand, I'll take his authority from him. He won't be able to control everyone if all hell breaks loose, so I've decided to gather up my old students.

"Ududa," he said, "would you kindly give me the keys to Tavon's shackles?"

The First Seneschal did as he asked, then she saw us both off with a respectful nod prior to Mendo taking us to meet with the Second Seneschal, Mr. Sensitive.

Out of all who'd suffered from the despair inflicted by Aletheia's Ocean, Mendo had been the only one who'd failed to react in any noticeable way. Without having meditated at all, he'd shaken off the trauma, likely remembering how low he'd fallen before we'd had to destroy Enok's nightmare.

Unlike us, Mendo had suffered grief so intense that it could no longer stand in his way.

10

The Center

\-----

Tavon

\-----

The image of the dead god began to become more obscured the closer we came to a curving path. The way was enclosed by parallel ridges that stacked progressively up and then veered into an unseen trail.

Before we'd started flying over the mainland, the Father called a third meeting, summoning everyone who'd chosen to proceed with the mission.

Meanwhile, Mendo, Abul, and I struggled to convince Mr. Sensitive of the Father's recklessness...

\-----

"The Father needs me," he claimed.

"Idiot!" Mendo barked while fingering the hilt of his odachi. "Don't you realize how absurd this is? How does the Father know that a demon hasn't beckoned him forth to do his bidding?"

"Why do you believe that an honorable man would discard his honor so quickly, Mendo?"

"It's not about honor!" all of us echoed in unison, breaking Mr. Sensitive's confidence.

"Look," he said while putting his hands up defensively, "I can't just betray my master due to mundane doubts. If zol exists in this world—if people like Jigen can Awaken—then why not believe in dreams sent by a god."

"You're not serious," Mendo exclaimed.

"I am. How long have you run a criminal organization, Mendo? Have you ever?"

"This is fucking ludicrous," Mendo muttered as he crossed his arms.

"I'll let Abul go."

"What did you say? Really?" Mendo stepped toward him. "Don't joke with me about this."

"The Father's the reason I lost Mrs. Sensitive's pussies."

"That was a bad choice of words."

"She loved those pussies, Seneschal Mendo, and so I can't say that I'm happy with the choices he's made. After all,"—he looked toward tall ridges bordering both sides of hundreds of strange, weaving passages that loomed in the distance—"this could be a one-way trip for me, so I'm guessing that she'll be pretty pissed about that part, too."

\-----

The Father held his final briefing on a shoreline of cragged, onyx earth, and, this time, the remainder of the Armada was positioned directly in front of him.

At his side, Fourth Seneschal Jigen had been chained to a cross, though he didn't seem to mind. Instead, his head hung down from his shoulders, and, when he bothered to look up, I spotted a white muzzle that had been strapped to his face. His kimono was soaked red with the blood of his victims.

From around both Jigen and the Father, I could see two distinct auras: one dark, with veins of red, and the other just a pale light that haloed around the shoulders of the Clan's leader.

"Those who have made this journey with me, those who are here with me now, it is you who I consider to be friends. We've reached the land of Aletheia, gentlemen, the Land of Truth, and so allow me to explain what my dreams have shown me:

"Vicious tides circling the perimeter of a stone foundation. The Face of a god bearing down on us. Judgment. Gentlemen, if we persist in our search for Cephamatu, we will be rewarded with real clarity in life. Think about what this prophecy means and where it has led us—we've made it, soldiers!"

"When do you plan on executing Fourth Seneschal Jigen for his crimes against the Clan?"

Mendo took everyone by surprise as he stepped out from the formation and addressed the Father directly.

"You're correct," he continued, "we were able to cross the dreaded ocean, but Jigen himself is responsible for a major loss of lives within our own ranks—and with no justifiable rationale!"

Mendo glared in Jigen's direction; Jigen didn't look back, but his tau expanded to contain something which seethed at its center.

Other footsoldiers cried out in support of Mendo, readily calling the Fourth Seneschal a "criminal" and a "traitor." The legacy that Jigen had left behind had been so traumatic to the Meiziki Clan as a whole that, at last, all of us felt contrived to band against him.

"I agree, Father." Mr. Sensitive spoke up. "What he's done is unacceptable. He should be punished."

Ududa studied this scene in silence, keeping docile in the midst of what was fast becoming a mutiny.

"Hmm."

The Father crossed one arm over his chest while resting his elbow on it as he calmly and lightly touched at his growing infection; he hadn't been drinking.

"Do you not think that the judgment of a god would be sufficient?"

"You're not saying—" Mendo started, but the Father cut him off:

"We should let Cephamatu decide what to do with the likes of Jigen. So far, none of my visions have involved his death by execution. As long as the Fourth Seneschal has not directly betrayed me, then I can still use him."

"This is ridiculous!" Abul shouted above everyone else, causing the Father to flinch. "How can you treat his transgressions so kindly after what he's done? Are you truly mad?"

There was a hushed silence which followed, yet it couldn't sustain itself before others spoke out against Cengiz. They were bold enough to declare that he was an idiot to his face, but this just caused his own aura to strengthen. Alongside him, Jigen's continued to grow as well but at a much slower pace. Soon, stark white tau, carrying within itself small bolts of grey energy, encompassed the area around us.

At the same time, black pus spurted from the Father's face; it oozed, then it took shape: a skeletal arm and hand, with a thin layer of rotted muscle attached to it, extended from out of the side of the Father's head. Matching his tau, his eyes burned white.

"The judgment of Cephamatu is something not meant for us to question idly. We arrived at this place, at the bottom of Aletheia, to seek truth for ourselves. Remember why you joined the Clan as well as the reasons that drove you to follow me. If you've already committed, then there is no turning back.

"Otherwise..."

A vision of a vacuous maw parting appeared over the Father's head. A second set of jaws, lined with teeth too long for them, forced the whole of its mouth open to hurdle a scream that set my ears ringing. The effect was bolstered by the outline of another face, Phaedra's broad skull echoing out from another realm.

"I will let Jigen walk on his crimes—temporarily. Afterwards, once we've reached the sanctuary overseen by Cephamatu, I'll turn him over to you to do as you please.

"If you still wish to disobey me," he growled, "then Phaedra will devour you, one by one."

\-----

And, just like that, we all gave in.

Because I'd Awakened, I could sense that the zol we'd encountered didn't come from the Father. Phaedra seemed to be controlling everything, maybe even influencing the mark on his face. The Father had summoned this beast without any effort; the group of us left, which consisted of about thirty-five in all, knew that having Jigen released would set the odds against us...

But we let him.

The Father unstrapped the muzzle, freed the Fifth Seneschal. Jigen prostrated himself before the Father, his tau having disappeared entirely.

"Father, only you have been able to see me." he said. "Out of a band of morons, only you know of my worth. I'm sorry."

Mendo calmly walked his way, withdrawing his odachi as he did.

"You killed countless soldiers. You have to atone for that."

"Mendo!"—Abul rushed to his side; meanwhile, the Father went to Jigen's.

The Father grabbed Jigen's arm, dissuading him from drawing his blades, then he admonished him, "Do not let the shortsightedness of others provoke your anger. It's not appropriate."

I was able to help in talking Mendo down from attacking Jigen, but he agreed to ease up only if Third Seneschal Labou was released. The Father consented, and then the last of the Meiziki Clan entered one of the valleys leading into Aletheia. Within Aletheia, we were confronted with sights more disturbing than anything we'd seen during the journey.

\-----

"Seneschal Jigen."

"Yes, Father?"

"Do we have enough zisons for our scouts?"

"Yes!" Jigen nodded, then he opened a compartment within his Kom Cell.

Jigen tossed a small, heated cube a few feet away and onto the ground in front of himself:

Neon yellow pulsed alongside heat expanding in all directions; in its wake, two wheels appeared at both ends of a long, sleek, and black torso which made up a leather-seated motorcycle.

Jigen threw several more, scattering them across an open field and right before a dry basin, which broke off into hundreds of additional valleys that all sprawled upward.

"From here on out, I'll remain at the center of the formation," the Father said, "moving down a middle valley while monitoring everyone's progress as we go forward. It's vital that you note anything suspicious along the way. If something's worth reporting, we'll take the time to investigate.

"We've entered the territory of the gods, friends, and that's why we'll have to rely fully on each other. Let's keep going; soon enough, we'll know what we're up against."

\-----

The ridges on both sides of me were arched and drowned in grey. As the group of Abul, Mendo, and I continued along what the Father had marked as "Northeast Four," the arches extended into sapphire columns and grew taller, taking up most of the lay of the land going forward and even with hundreds of shapes shifting and moving about on the horizon.

Columns twisted and traveled on their own. Small beads of white, with black specks dotting their backsides, crawled by us as we proceeded. Those beads and specks, when I saw them at a closer distance, racing next to Abul, revealed themselves to be small insects. Little bugs that had combined to number in the hundreds, hundreds that turned to thousands until the path broke off into an endless array of creeping white and black.

White and black swirled onward, passing by individual bodies that were split like clovers, spreading out while lined with pink and red hairs that shook as they crawled about.

"Heads up!" Mendo stopped short before waves of those damn things started rushing our way.

"What's wrong?" Abul asked him.

"We've got reports of two people who've already gone missing."

"Where?"

"Northeast Three."

"Do they know why?"

"The Father says he's still investigating but to continue."

"Through these things?" Abul pointed.

Mendo ignored him, revved his bike's engine, then he sprang ahead, crushing dozens of them as he went. The two of us reluctantly followed behind; I cringed when hearing hard shells break in conjunction with the sound of liquid spraying up.

The shapes ahead, which had appeared to move on their own, came into view. They formed architecture I'd never imagined could be physically possible. They created the image of a city but one which spoke of rot.

We approached a group of great oaks that'd lost their leaves and withered long ago, yet they still stood. Several of the them swayed before stone bridges that spanned a dark chasm. Below, there was a bottomless expanse; above, the skies turned a decayed brown which dimmed the deeper we moved inward.

Past the bridges, more individual shapes became apparent. Terraced housing lined the other side at the end of each bridge. By the time we'd started driving across the chasm, I saw that the end of our passage was covered in segmented bodies of creatures that enclosed the entirety of what was beyond. The houses we approached broke down into their individual parts: the eyes of fluid-filled vermin acting as windows, latticed by worms and surrounded by exteriors formed from horned, brown and black maggots.

They extended until they broke off into domes, multistoried buildings with slanted, gnarled roofs, and ancient cathedrals; what looked like brick turned out to be roach-like congregations forming rigid shapes. Colonnades came before another, shorter bridge, and, once we'd gotten close enough...

Mendo stopped first.

"Those can't be!"

Arachnids. Long, hairy bodies had stretched themselves to their limits, acting as what I'd thought were colonnades and supporting a general structure. Because every piece of architecture was made up of devourers and pests, this city took on a certain kind of spirit. In a way, it felt like we'd gotten the attention of every damnable insect.

When we'd crossed under an archway, it began to bend and warp toward us as hard shells cracked to produce a steady flow of fluid from above. The closer we got to the next bridge, with Mendo having sped up the pace, the more it became noticeable that our surroundings were changing in response to our presence. Taller terraced housing, grouped before the cross over another black chasm, leaned our way as we passed.

By the time we'd closed in on a towering basilica, a mass of insects shifted our way: the whole of the massive monument bent in our direction in order to spread what became its shadow. To prevent us from seeing anything ahead, the basilica seemed to stretch itself, with liquids oozing from several crevices across its body.

It looked as though a thousand beady eyes stared back at us; I heard the hum of wings all moving in sync, saw what looked like round bodies watching our movements.

Mendo brought his bike to a stop and then looked our way as he waited for us to follow suit.

"We've been ordered to halt movement."

"Why's that?" Abul asked.

Mendo sighed, "One of our teams was wiped out. Northeast Three again."

"What does the Father want us to do?"

"He's telling everyone to spread out, to conduct reconnaissance, and then he expects us to rendezvous with him at a midpoint,"—Mendo glanced behind us—"although I'm not so keen on trying to retrace the same route."

"We shouldn't stay near the basilica either," Abul warned. "Everything in this world is cursed."

"Hmph." Mendo sneered. "He left us in the worst possible spot. Let's try to circle around while avoiding whatever it is that's lurking within that building."

"Right." Abul bowed curtly.

Thus, with Mendo's approval, we carefully traversed concrete interrupted by sections of earth, dead trees that reached for us, emitting static as their branches swayed wherever we stepped, and every creeping thing that crawled across this realm. As we moved, we witnessed the old city exist in a state of being perpetually devoured.

From within the houses we'd passed—as well as the basilica itself—something died without end. While it died, it sustained a host of creatures too disgusting to look at for more than a few seconds.

We kept our distance, though smaller insects began to crawl toward us in droves. By the time we'd crossed to the back of the basilica, where dead grass extended onto a slope punctuated with strange spirals like the ones from before, we spotted a lone figure sitting near a swarm of botflies.

The stranger appeared dejected. He cast his eyes toward the ground, kept his head low, and all manner of vermin steered clear.

Once Mendo had taken the time to study the wanderer, he called the Father...

11

Shimonku

\-----

Tavon

\-----

With Mendo's call having been the only decent report concerning the Meiziki Clan's reconnaissance, the Father inevitably changed the rendezvous point to our location.

The loss of our soldiers on Northeast Three went unexplained, with no one having been in close communication with any of them for over an hour. Because they'd simply disappeared, the Father chose to rally us together in case whatever took them struck again.

Still, even with the full force of the Clan present, there was no hope for us.

\-----

The Father towered over the sunken stranger, who'd stopped groaning when we'd all gotten nearer to where he sat. Black botflies circled his silhouette but didn't move closer than that.

The stranger didn't immediately look up when the Father addressed him.

"Are you the only human left?"

"..."

"Sir, can you hear me?"

The Father was anxious to move forward, but Jigen, with Muon and a footsoldier standing at his sides as loyal bodyguards, was quick to interject—

"Answer him, fucker! What are you waiting for?"

The stranger peered up at us. His face appeared to be a mask of either wood or dirt; only black dots stood in place for his eyes. When he opened the serrated borders of his mouth, a cracking noise issued alongside a wearied groan:

"Favored mortals, you've entered the Land of Subsiding Impermanence, wherein you'll forget the desires of the flesh, of wanting food and drink.

"Instead, you'll be welcomed by the grim shade of what was once the Lord of this realm. The natural worlds inhabited by both gods and humans were formed to last much longer than the private realms designed by deities.

"In this place, you are yet a subject of a higher power. Proceed if you must," he taunted us with a toothless grin, "head on up, far as you can. Know however that trespassing through the corpse of a dead god, through the realm of he who was once heralded as 'Shimonku,' is a gesture of great disrespect."

"I'm a disciple of Cephamatu," the Father replied curtly. "Do you know where I can find that Lord?"

The stranger paused for a moment.

He cackled, "Your brain must be quite addled, indeed, for one should not ask such questions. What ignorance!"

Jigen took a step toward him—

He thrusted one katana through the stranger's forehead, though the stranger revealed himself to be nothing but an apparition.

I heard him laugh as his body became formless and ascended to the heavens. Within a second, Jigen gasped. At the same time, he peered up while backing away.

"Look out!" he screamed while dashing in the opposite direction.

From oblivion, something reached out.

It swept through the air, unseeable, and crushed the footsoldier who'd accompanied Jigen, spurting blood in its wake. The Father, who was more stunned than anyone else when witnessing this, was quickly grabbed up by Jigen. Jigen climbed onto his bike and took off as a creature, which remained invisible, started pounding its fists into the ground right before Abul.

The rest of us were able to flee, with a few stragglers lagging behind. The Father ordered those at the rear to fire at the beast as it was pursuing us. It caused the ground to tremble constantly each time I heard one its feet strike the ground, and so we rode higher, desperately searching for refuge and passing through a deeper fog than what we'd endured within Aletheia's Ocean.

From behind, it sounded like more than one of those creatures had picked up our scent and came rushing our way. Unfortunately for those in the back, invisible claws tore through the air and caught a series of bodies that were reeled into jaws we couldn't see. Looking back meant death, and so we charged forward into a storm of clouds, sometimes punctuated by what looked like giant centipedes soaring through the air above us. Each of their bodies came to represent decrepit arches that served as our passage through the realm of Shimonku.

It took some time to lose the claws that wanted to shred us, but another threat loomed in the distance bad enough to shake our pursuers.

What came next was a great gothic cathedral at the western and highest end of the old city. Its exterior was wrapped in stucco that writhed under the weight of millions of small bodies, small organisms that articulated so many geometric designs. Patterns modeling eyes, outstretched hands, and swirling waves worked around what steadily became an endless construction.

When we tried to pass around it, still seeking higher ground, it was like the walls themselves contorted. They warped, veering in front so as to block a straight path. We were redirected down a corridor filled with never-ending crawling nightmares, with the cathedral's domed towers staying above us the whole time.

From its bay windows—that dotted the sides of every domed column—spindly, red-tipped pincers creeped out from the black holes leading inside. Its towers were distinguished by lancet windows depicting faces of midnight that didn't smile or scowl; above each dome, a giant flower mantis stood to take the shape of a finial.

Every awful creature, though predatory in nature, had formed a semblance of structure at the lower end of Aletheia. The farther we went, the more I could see that each one of them had their place; they composed a disturbing symmetry which was capable of creating multiple images. Although the walls of the cathedral stretched on, leaving its central towers behind, I believe I saw different faces, different masks and symbols I could've never recognized on the way.

As darkness was all that was laid out before us, Mendo cried out, "Is this a trap? Father, we should stop!"

"No!" Cengiz barked back at all of us. "We can't stop, lest those other bastards catch up."

Light quickly illuminated tiled flooring as well as tall, stone walls possessing black alcoves. To both the left and right, there were stationed a series of parallel pews—

All of which belonged to a congregation of Them, they who were seated before the carved and polished image of a giant god.

The Shamed.

\-----

Their heads were bald and had a sickly-looking pallor to them. The Shamed were mostly the same heights, wore dark, tattered robes, and covered their faces with long and bony fingers once they'd taken notice of us.

Stepping slowly, they headed toward our formation without the need to see, chanting something we couldn't hear.

Third Seneschal Labou evoked a metal sheathe around his fist as the nearest one approached him. While it did, I thought I heard it moan—that maybe it was sobbing. Its emaciated, pallid forearms wobbled as it got closer, prompting Labou to address it:

"Don't step so close. You'll regret it." he scowled, exposing a fiercer side of himself.

The cathedral dweller lowered its hands: black holes in its skull preceded tunnels of red. Red dripped down and across jaws which split apart as they opened.

A member of the Shamed howled, spitting a toxic black substance at Labou. It splattered on contact with his face, then it exploded. Bright light erupted from where the Third Seneschal's head used to be, and then there was simply more red accompanied by the smell of charred flesh.

The Father sped on ahead without another word, forcing the rest of us to do the same. I followed and tried to block out what'd happened in my mind, a-and...

This is really the first time I've spoken of it, kid. Labou was brilliant. I didn't believe my eyes when I saw his body hit the ground. Back then, witnessing that made me feel confused and angry. Confused because I still didn't believe it; angry because, if it was real, it made me feel fragile.

While we proceeded, along a wall I wasn't certain had an end, someone next to me took a blast to his right side from the Shamed; black smoke imploded to my right, but this footsoldier was too in shock to pay attention. Instead, a large section of his ribcage had been blown open, with pieces of his organs still hanging out. Within a minute, he fell off his bike and let death take him.

Before long, the passage broke off into pure darkness—sometimes punctuated by stalactites dripping with humidity as we increased our distance from the Shamed. They didn't directly chase after us, choosing instead to walk as if they knew they'd reach us soon enough.

Then, the way branched out into multiple paths that all led forward, like honeycombed passages through the interior of something much greater than us.

The Father had us use the middle three caves, and the walls between us grew thick as we pursued individual routes toward the same way. At this point, our journey felt like a mad flight through enemy territory. With Labou having been struck down so easily, there was nothing within this nightmare which indicated that the Father had been right at all.

Unfortunately, we moved on.

The Father didn't flinch, although the report he received had us all shook: another team had been eliminated. Inexplicably, just like last time.

Halfway through, each cavern conjoined into one and had us follow a route which evolved into a great cavern. Everything we'd seen so far had been constant distractions intent on keeping us from realizing where it was, exactly, that we were headed. When we'd thought we were bypassing the cathedral, we ended up driving through it.

Reality here wasn't fixed. Even less so because we were traveling through celestial detritus. Thus, the mouth of the cave opened with the appearance of horrific, life-sized orchid mantises who took us by surprise. Our left flank was all but ripped to shreds as shining pincers tore through several more Meiziki soldiers.

We managed to make it past them, but everyone was running out of fuel too early.

The Father, the rest of the Seneschals, and their students were the only ones who made it. Behind us, our lower-ranking comrades were the first ones to experience fuel depletion. Their bikes inevitably plunged into the ground, and we heard footsoldiers cry out as the remaining members of our formation surged onward.

12

Seranull

\-----

Tavon

\-----

We were lost in the deep dark when we eventually all ran out.

Mendo was the first to charge toward the Father—"You planned this," he exclaimed while pointing at him. "You planned for them to take the fall in the beginning, didn't you? You lied to them!"

Jigen stepped in front of the Father, unsheathing both of his blades.

"I'm ready, Mendo," he said.

Mendo hesitated, gripping the handle of his own sword before he chose to speak reason instead:

"Can't you see what he's done to us? Who is left now of the Meiziki Clan, Jigen? Who?"

Jigen snarled; just as he did, his tau emitted from his eyes in a sinister look.

"Who are we to question the Father? You swore your loyalty, didn't you? All of the sudden, what's made you such a little bitch?"

"Excuse me?"

This time, Mendo drew his odachi, prepared to enter battle and begin what would've been an overthrow of what little authority Cengiz had left.

"STOP!"

The White Boar appeared briefly, exploding in a sheet of bright light which covered the entirety of the cave, exposing a series of puddles along the way.

The Father grabbed Jigen by his arm, like a child, and pushed him away while confronting Mendo.

"You can cut me down now, save yourself the trouble of hearing me talk..." he took a second to catch his breath, then he said, "but you'll be committing everyone to mutual doom. Cephamatu is close at hand, Seneschal Mendo, and he's promised us a reward. If you kill me, what will you do without the chosen mediator between you and a god?"

Mendo didn't respond. He stared into the Father's eyes, calculating his next move.

"You'd just end up going the same way, wouldn't you? You're angry with me because I conserved a little extra fuel for the most important members of the family, right?"

"You son of a bitch—"

"Don't speak to the Father that way!" Jigen growled.

The rest of us, students and Seneschals combined, stepped between them.

"I think we should keep going," Shoto insisted.

"I second that," Thoko said as well. "We can work out who's responsible for what after this is over."

Thokozani's words served as the best advice, and, with Ganymedes having come to her side while wielding his giant club, what she said was convincing enough to force both parties to back down.

"After we've reached upper Aletheia," Mendo warned the Father, "we'll settle things. The reign of Cengiz Meiziki has outlasted its welcome."

\-----

For the rest of the way, we continued on foot. Meanwhile, we stayed cautious of any sounds that might've indicated that we'd been followed, but there was merely silence throughout.

Silence came before puddles that conjoined into streams. Streams of sapphire-colored liquid flowed across the cavern flooring like crystalline arteries, and we were eventually sinking up to our ankles in dark blue water. Within the cavern itself, I spotted small crevices, cracked areas that exposed a kaleidoscope of various shades. I spotted quarter-sized holes in the ceiling; constellations made up of burning stars bordered the world on the outside; it felt as though we'd yet again crossed into another realm.

As everyone else hurried ahead, the sound of an animal caught my attention. I wasn't dumb enough to turn back, but I slowed down enough to fall into the rear of the formation, with everyone else too focused on trying to find Cephamatu.

In the shadows behind us, I saw a long, narrow muzzle which belonged to a body the color of midnight. Around it, dark tau revolved, and...

I recognized what it was.

I remembered Anubis, Eze's companion. I remembered Anubis as the strange hound who discovered me and then left after Eze had passed.

For some reason, this dark mutt reminded me of him. It was like a smaller, younger version of Anubis but with an angrier look to it. This creature kept my attention while the others moved on, and I would've been left on my own had Abul not checked for me.

"Tavon!" he called out. "What the hell are you doing?"

The phantom hound and I shared a brief period of eye contact which didn't seem or feel harmful. Then, I turned and sprinted.

I caught up with the rest of the group just as we spearheaded into a massive chamber holding a lake maybe a third of the size of Aletheia's Ocean. Dark sapphire coated the ceiling above; slender, white branches ran along the ground; I thought I'd imagined the sound of someone singing. The voice I heard was too gentle and quiet to totally comprehend, but something about it was comforting.

"Tavon," Abul gestured behind me, "look out!"

Everyone turned to see the hound that I'd encountered earlier, except now he was surrounded by several of his own kind. Each of them waited in place, watching us calmly as black flames circled around them.

"I can't tap into their intentions," Abul muttered in an irritated tone.

"Father," Jigen licked his lips, rotated both of his blades, and strode toward them, "just let me—"

"Absolutely not!" Seneschal Ududa exclaimed. "You will NOT touch them."

"And why the hell is that, old lady?"

"JIGEN," the Father shouted, "show her respect!"

"Yes, Father!" Jigen nodded and then allowed the First Seneschal to speak:

"Those beasts are not a danger to humans, Seneschal Jigen. In fact, they possess the zol signatures of kamuy."

"They're nothing but a fairytale." Mendo remarked.

"That is untrue, Seneschal Mendo, for the leader of the Odoya Clan also possessed a kamuy: Sumio.

"Kamuy are beings that easily bond to humans, although no one's certain of from where they came originally. These kamuy are unusual, however, because they seem to have taken the same forms as each other. Typically, there is not more than one of the same, but here they've shown us something quite different."

"There's no point in sticking around," the Father insisted. "Will they try to attack us from behind?"

"Most likely not, but they could hold on to the spirits of some of us, and this outcome cannot be avoided. Tavon shows no fear,"—she nodded toward me as I crouched to study the one from earlier—"he seems to have already taken an interest in adopting one."

"Nonsense." The Father shook his head. "It looks like the lake's rising, and there's a shape I can't see very well that's waiting far away. If we give this world too much time, there's no telling what other disasters might occur."

"Right." Mendo said, cringing slightly when acknowledging that he was agreeing with the Father. "We need to keep a steady pace and hold together."

As a group, we altered between jogging and walking along a narrow strip of land nearly submerged by shining waters. The picture ahead was beautiful, displaying the pale light of a spherical body which loomed far overhead. The singing grew just a bit louder; from behind, my personal kamuy continued to follow as the others trailed in its wake. That moment of eye contact had caused it to imprint on me, and so the Meiziki Clan had gained one more companion as we neared the god of another dimension.

\-----

On a shelf of greyed sand and rock, right before the image of a woman composed from blue wisterias, we recognized the stranger wearing the odd mask from before—the one Jigen had tried to stab through the head.

When he took notice of us, he didn't show it. Rather, he looked on, gazing upon the magnificence of jeweled petals aligned in patterns across a statue formed from a comforting light. Down this colossal figure, you could see streams flowing from two sources and what must've been the eyes of another god who no longer existed in the present.

"This is the Land of Seranull," he stated, "the Lady of the Azure Wreath. It is she who was the very last to perish, and, as you can see, her figure remains. It shows traces of anguish, but the mother is much like her son."

"No more riddles, asshole!"

The Father confronted him while evoking a sheath around his fist.

In response, the stranger calmly stood to his feet, removed his mask, and exposed an eyeless, bearded, and heavily wrinkled face which beamed a grim smile at the Father.

"What the? What the hell are you?" Cengiz demanded.

"Ah..."

The stranger's mouth didn't move; on the contrary, the whisper of his voice interrupted our thoughts:

"There were two lovers. Two gods who lorded over separate dimensions, unintended to ever communicate between their respective realms. Two gods ruled under the watchful eye of Cephamatu, and he blessed their union.

"There was Shimonku, who patrolled the lowest plane out of three dimensions. Seranull, who formed the middle half. Then, there was Cephamatu, who was more powerful than the two of them combined.

"When the union of these two lovers inevitably led to offspring, Cephamatu again blessed the birth of a new deity. Seranull carried the spirit of her child, Namodo, inside of herself for three days. At the conclusion of these three days, Seranull gave birth to a universe..."

"And what meaning does this hold for us?" The Father asked.

"What meaning indeed—why... I haven't the faintest idea why, but, very often, I'm always drawn to this spot. I remember less and less as time goes on, but I do know... hmm..."

"Know what?"

The stranger looked at the Father directly.

"Something was wrong with the child. He, along with the universe he contained, was conceived as a child beset by illness. Because Namodo was in such a poor state of health, his lifespan was cut tragically short. As his world had been born near his family's, Namodo strove to escape into depths of reality and as far as he could get from his birth parents, for, if he perished too close to them, he would've risked serious harm to their realms.

"Namodo sank into oblivion, transforming into a bottomless ocean, one which now covers the area surrounding the city of Aletheia. Even though he'd taken measures to distance himself, Namodo's death knell was powerful enough to cripple Shimonku. Shimonku was weakened; following both weakness and death, decay crept into his realm, slowly eating away at him while it spread further—to the world of Seranull.

"Small creatures arrived to claim what had fallen. Shimonku, deprived of both his son and his health, separated his essence into spirits that would preserve the image of what he was, although those spirits have long been devoured by the damnable vermin, too.

"Once Shimonku had passed, the same decay that had overrun his world plagued Seranull's universe. The omen wrought by Namodo's death reached as high as this very section of her paradise, wherein Seranull resigned herself to sacrificing her conscious being to bind with the nature of the world around her, as Shimonku did when splitting himself into thousands of vestiges.

"Alas, three dead worlds now lie at Cephamatu's doorstep. The plague never crossed so far as to do any real harm to his private realm...

"Come to think of it—it all sounds so suspicious and yet so familiar."

The old man pondered out loud for a while. Long enough to rile up Jigen again, who had to be held back by both the Father and Ududa as we waited.

"How unfortunate," the stranger whispered.

Then his image shifted.

His jaws elongated, allowing teeth to loosen and drop just as a black hole took up most of his face and pressed his eyes into slits. He grew a few inches taller, but all the fat in his body was transferred to his stomach, which became bloated out of proportion in comparison to his bony limbs.

"I understand now," his voice became stern yet sounded fainter than before:

"It was all part of Cephamatu's design then. I... forgot."

To everyone's astonishment, tears rolled down its sharply-angled cheeks.

"Incredible," Abul exclaimed. "We've encountered a ghost!"

"Ghost?" the Father scoffed. "That's what you call this?"

"Yes, sir. Those who've been left lingering between worlds for too long take this shape. Notice the composition of his body," Abul gestured toward the weeping spirit, "his stomach's bottomless, so he'll be eternally famished until he's allowed himself to pass over into the afterlife."

"He has to allow himself?"

"A ghost only stays behind in special circumstances. Normally the Solace come to collect them, but, in this instance... I'm unsure."

At last, the ghost spoke to us its final words:

"To think that I've spent so much time drowning in ignorance. How much of myself have I lost?

"Strangers," he said while nodding, "I wish to thank you for helping me to remember who I was. I desperately held onto an old story, a fragment I thought would help me remember who I was. In trying to recount my past to a living human and remember why it was so important—hmm...

"It's all there now, albeit traces of it.

"My name is Shimonku, lord of a fallen realm, and I've wandered here every day to gaze upon the beauty of Seranull, my beautiful wife, with some part of me hoping that she's looking back. Thank you," he said again.

Without a moment's notice, the center of the ghost's head split apart; from within, black beetles came rushing out and crawled along a body which dissolved into more of the bastards.

The last vestige of the god once known as Shimonku evaporated into nothing.

From below, the earth quaked violently enough to almost throw me from my feet.

"C'mon!" the Father called to us while charging ahead. "I can hear Him calling to me."

13

Aletheia

\-----

Tavon

\-----

The heart of Aletheia was represented by the temple of a god whose depiction had been crushed. Ivory columns dotted the way forward, up, and into the highest realm we'd been seeking this whole time. The light of a great Sun shone through empty hallways, lined with both additional columns as well as statues of malformed men in abnormal positions.

After covering some distance, the ground below was replaced entirely by concrete. Far above, a series of aqueducts spewing white foam marked our entry into a city with a unique design of its own.

In some spots, you could see large structures sunken in the massive body of water which surrounded us. This ocean, belonging to the realm of Cephamatu, wasn't cursed in the same manner as the one we'd crossed. Rather, it ate away at ancient colosseums that sank, in parts, across an expanse of blue. The current daylight gave off the illusion that it would last forever, with the Sun suspended in place while we carefully moved across narrow pieces of concrete and stone, traveling wherever the Father continued to lead us.

Soon, it became obvious that the Father recognized where he was going, even if the rest of us were in disbelief at his conviction. Regardless of how any of us felt, I think we all—including Jigen—were far too distracted by what was revealed to be a contrast between an old city and something newer and simpler which replaced it.

It resembled the old slightly, with a grand forum containing a large number of insulas and connected apartments that lined the outskirts of a massive wall which marked a central amphitheater. This new world abounded in stone tanned from centuries spent in the sunlight, cracked and withered from the effects of time.

The insulas we passed appeared empty. All that could really be heard was the echoing of a breeze which brushed through miles of stone infrastructure. This plane was a virtual wasteland decorated in extravagance. I noticed spiked finials jutting out from individual towers that reached into the skies. All around, as well as below, fragments of a bygone empire were scattered about in concrete and brick.

On the way to the great amphitheater, we passed by concrete monuments to humanoids and creatures I'd never seen, one of which vaguely resembled Isolakandi. Most of them had been defaced in some way or another.

"The buildings behind them must be temples," Abul said. "This place was once an equal playing field for multiple deities. I wonder what must've transpired."

"It's... emptier than I remember," the Father announced, stunning everyone.

"Remember?" Mendo inquired. "What do you mean, 'remember?'"

"It's as the demon told you: this kingdom worshipped more than one principality. They had temples dedicated to Suniman, Ishimonka, Aiuredtya, Umakun, Gok, and Cephamatu..."

Without saying another word, the Father proceeded while unconsciously expecting us to follow as he lectured. As Mendo fingered the hilt of his blade, Jigen reacted by drawing his and all but sidestepping as he protected his master.

We crossed another forum, one which expanded to encompass the full width of a lighthouse. It burned with a golden flame, vibrant amidst so much emptiness.

"As you can probably tell, another civilization once stood in this one's place," the Father spoke with his back turned to us. "It was called Ithacai, the only other government in the world, besides the Elgumbi Republic, to be ruled by a perfect theocracy.

"'Perfect,' meaning that the gods oversaw both the expansion and peace of our nation with impunity."

"Our?" Mendo snarled, "You can't be—"

"Seneschal Mendo,"—just as the Father turned, a black hand of pus extended from his head while he addressed him:

"I was a citizen of Ithacai. I was here when the old civilization flourished, back when the gods themselves saw to our security. Come along," he ordered, waving us toward the amphitheater, "we've just a short distance to go before our journey reaches its end.

"This is Ithacai, the capital of Alethea, and thus the Land of Truth."

14

Seneschal Jigen

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Jigen! What are you—"

Jigen caught the Father off guard by hurrying over to a recess in the concrete path which overflowed with dark blue water and was decorated with a statue of Maitreya at its center.

"Don't drink from that!" Cengiz rushed to Jigen's side, like a father scolding his son, and grabbed his shoulder—

But the Fifth Seneschal pushed him away and glared back.

"Don't you see?" he spoke.

His tau abruptly raged around him.

"On the inside, I feel like I need to cut to be free. I need to kill, watch someone bleed out in front of me. When it gets real bad, I can't handle it—and it's been getting real bad, Father.

"Old wanderers used to tell me that drinking water from a shrine dedicated to Maitreya, the Buddha of the future, is good for cleansing the mind, that it puts all into focus." Jigen nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. "I have control over the hunger the lurks within me."

Jigen faced Maitreya, crouched, and desperately began scooping up water which he lapped into his mouth. The Father started to approach, but, upon witnessing how far gone his subordinate had become, he froze. All of us stood by as the Fourth Seneschal drank and then took a moment to wash his face.

"There." he said, coming to his feet.

Jigen acknowledged the Father once more; a strange calmness overtook his demeanor as he did. For the first time since I'd met him, Jigen appeared... mature.

"I feel much better. I peered into the water of Maitreya, let its stillness resemble the shape of my thoughts, and gave in to a humble indifference."

The Fourth Seneschal breathed in and out deeply, then he said, "The Way of the Sidogush places a special value on loyalty. In loyalty, a warrior finds cause. Purpose. And purpose is all one needs to sift through the noise of existence."

Jigen bowed.

"Father," he exclaimed, "let me to rededicate myself in observing the path of stoicism. I've seen the tides of my anger. Now, I'll mold them to my benefit and become a better warrior!

"I've seen the Way, and I'll no longer allow myself to stray from it."
15

Ithacai

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Bah," Mendo scoffed, "whatever 'change' you've experienced doesn't attest for all the wrong you've done."

Without anger, Jigen addressed him, "When the time comes, do you plan on being the one who makes me attest?"

Behind him, far off in the distance, I could see the outline of another lighthouse, half-fallen into the ocean and alongside other buildings made up of the same tanned stone. Jigen's tau lightly shimmered while keeping tight to his figure.

Mendo stared into his eyes and ignored Abul when the demon tried to break his gaze.

"Fourth Seneschal Jigen"—Mendo levied his odachi at him with his metallic hand—"once we're done here, I'll give you the fight you want. I'll be the one who puts you down."

"That's impossible," Jigen replied, "because you've already lost. You lost a long time ago."

Mendo gritted his teeth. "I'll make sure you eat those words."

"Are you two finished with your petty quarrel?" the Father interrupted.

Mendo spoke for the rest of us in response: "You were a citizen of 'Ithacai,' Cengiz, so tell us what happened here."

\-----

At the end of our journey, we entered an amphitheater larger than any of the colosseums or structures we'd passed on the way. All around, there were pews of stone, separated into ascending levels and fenced off by stone rails that covered almost the full extent of the theater. Everything looked to be the same shades of grey or tan and partially covered in dust from years of abandonment.

The center of the amphitheater broke off into the greater ocean but not before terminating in a rounded, concrete archipelago which led past grand columns that were separated by the archipelago's path. Right above this path, it was as if the Sun itself had descended to crest atop the amphitheater. At the parting of its semicircle, the highest two rows of pews appeared to intersect with this light, although it was too intense to look at without shielding your eyes.

The Father, looking now more delusional than ever, had us follow him down the stone path while Jigen stayed between Cengiz and Mendo. After a short distance, a clear distinction formed between our groups; both Mr. Sensitive and Ududa had kept eerily quiet since Labou's death, and they presently stayed near to us rather than come to the Father's defense any longer.

We understood that this was the end for Cengiz Meiziki, that he had to explain himself and face judgment from those who would become the new leaders of the Clan.

The Father stood in place once he'd made it to the round prominence at the end of the archipelago, staring off forlornly as his last loyal subject tensed.

"All right, Cengiz..." Mendo began, and, when he did, the rest of the Seneschals came to stand by his side in a show of support.

"We've followed you all the way, and for what? So that you could have us track down a dead god? What made you come here, Cengiz? Cengiz," Mendo shouted his name again out of irritation, "I'm asking you: why was this worth the destruction of our Clan?"

For a few seconds, all we heard was the calm breeze that brushed by us and over a gentle ocean.

"I'm not a very good man..."

"Huh?" Mendo seemed briefly shocked before his expression hardened, but, before he could say anything else, the Father told us his story...

\-----

Cengiz Meiziki

\-----

My wife was the diamond of Ithacai, more beautiful than any radiant wonder the gods themselves had to offer. She and our daughter shared the same gift; as such, it was a risk to ever bring them into daylight, for I feared that both gods and men alike might have at them.

Then there were the gods themselves: Suniman, Ishimonka, Aiuredtya, Umakun, Gok—all children of Lord Cephamatu, who it was said had created them from fragments of himself.

Worship of his children grew. Many sects competed with each other on official doctrine. We lived in the city of gods, but these "gods" argued so much that politics had reached a stalemate. Over time, the people of Ithacai remembered the teachings of Cephamatu's children more than they remembered the teachings of Cephamatu himself. They forgot to perform their morning sacrifices, forsook old rites because they thought of them as inconvenient to their daily routines.

Because of the moral decay happening within Ithacai, a decay that was also being promoted by our lords, Cephamatu became enraged.

Cephamatu killed the gods, killed his own children.

Out of spite, he wiped out Ithacai. He took my family. He left me with this mark on my face.

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Cephamatu is the one who's been speaking to me all this time..."

Together, Cengiz Meiziki and Jigen confronted us; both of them showed contempt.

"He led me here, promising an end to my constant suffering and a way to redeem myself. That's why I brought all of you, like he said, so we could earn his favor. We'd have been worse off had I ignored Cephamatu's call."

Mr. Sensitive and Mendo were side-by-side; Ududa was close behind them. Mendo kept a calm grip on the hilt of his odachi, prepared to draw it from the side while he eyed Jigen, who was directly across from himself.

"We clearly understand your intentions, Cengiz," Mendo stated, "but the penalty hasn't changed.

"Cengiz Meiziki, a combination of your reckless decisions coupled with Jigen's actions is enough to condemn you for an eternity."

"This stupid trip got Labou killed!" Mr. Sensitive clenched both fists as he glared at his former master.

"Right." Mendo said. "And so we decided to arrest you once this was all over. It doesn't matter what the future might hold for me, for any of us; what matters is that we see justice done to the two who've hurt us the most!"

Cengiz put his hands up defensively.

"Easy. Easy." He smiled, but most of his face was covered in grime which diminished it.

Just above him, I could barely see the outline of the White Boar, yet it spread skyward while Cengiz' eyes got brighter.

"It's all been planned from the start." he said. "In the end, I will always be the Father, the one who presides over you."

"No more of your bullshit."

Mendo and Jigen walked toward each other, Jigen holding both blades out before his eyes. He showed no visible emotion. When Cengiz politely stepped back, so, too, did Mr. Sensitive in anticipation of their duel.

Each swordsman moved slow...

Strategically...

The light rose to its peak.

16

Cephamatu

\-----

Tavon

\-----

A white, luminescent body blasted through the platform at the end of the archipelago. It took Cengiz with it in a blaze of light so intense that it stunned everyone but Jigen, who calmly stood by as the entire realm of Aletheia was shook by the appearance of something which heralded from the deep.

Within the depths of the ocean surrounding the old city, the bodies of dead gods had rested for years. In the time that they were under, the worst demons of the sea had feasted on what was left.

The zoraster, believed to be extinct in the current day, happened to be the only species left alive in Aletheia. Our punishment for following Cengiz was encountering all of them at once.

A hundred long necks of grey extended skyward, baring hollow faces, with black sockets for eyes and dark, vertical voids for mouths. At the base of each neck—and from within the folds around each void—a carapaced head jutted out and opened up into secondary jaws which lined its segmented lower body. From where their hideous forms disappeared under the water, I saw webbed and multicolored protrusions stick out. I saw clawed tendrils that threatened to sweep us in.

Each zoraster was colossal enough to block any view past massive bodies outlined in writhing tentacles. They were big enough to press into each other as their thousands of algae-covered tentacles crawled across the ocean surface, moving fast toward the archipelago.

At the center itself, directly above where Cengiz once was, the heads of octopoid monsters formed a congregation; they seemed more ethereal than physical and emitted a haunting tau that rolled off them in a collection of black clouds. From the gigantic series of bulbous skulls, I saw golden eyes that studied us before these bastards came for their prey.

Far above, the voice of a higher power resounded across the atmosphere:

"CENGIZ MEIZIKI, ON THE DAY THAT I BESIEGED THE CITY OF ITHACAI, YOU LEFT YOUR FAMILY BEHIND RATHER THAN RISK PERISHING WITH THEM. IN THE STORM OF MY FURY, YOU THOUGHT ONLY OF YOURSELF.

"YOU ARE THE SOLE SURVIVOR OF WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS WORLD. IT WAS YOU WHO I CURSED, AND IT IS YOU WHO HAS FULFILLED HIS PROMISE TO ME IN RETURN FOR THE REMOVAL OF IT. THEREFORE, YOUR SINS HAVE BEEN FORGIVEN.

"THOSE WHO STAND BEFORE ME ARE MORE THAN WHAT WAS REQUIRED FOR AN HONORABLE SACRIFICE."

At once, dark tendrils sprang at us from every angle, falling like waves upon our entire group. Some were able to move in time, but most everyone, like me, found themselves face-to-face with dozens of them. They blocked off any possible exit, lunging at me but stopping short just as they wrapped themselves tightly around my body. Without a moment's notice, they hefted me up, alongside everyone except for three: Jigen, Shotobai, and Muonsaga.

While the remainder of the Meiziki Clan was held aloft, Jigen tried to reassure his pupil by placing a calm hand on his shoulder. In response, Muon trembled, too afraid of the monsters that had reduced us all to nothing but ants in their eyes. Shoto appeared to experience the same shock, and thus he hesitated before making another move.

Out of everyone, Ganymedes was the only fighter capable of partially breaking free.

With strength barely surpassing mine, Ganymedes freed his arms enough to swing—

He struck at the vines constricting Thokozani, and they weakened enough for Thoko to burst through the zoraster's flesh.

Simultaneously, the tendrils around Ganymedes tightened hard and abruptly; they compressed his body until he was crushed without so much as a cry for help.

As soon as Thoko touched the ground behind both Jigen and Muon, she darted to Shoto's side—who readied one of his metal plates in case Jigen chose to charge at them.

On the contrary, Jigen didn't react at all. He waited, passively observing everything as it unfolded:

Both Shotobai and Thokozani drew the attention of every nearby zoraster, prompting Shoto to prepare two discs while Thoko dashed toward the upper section of the amphitheater.

"Where are you going?" he shouted.

One tendril looked as though it was ready to thrust itself into her side; it stood up on its end, poised itself—

He smashed it against the ground with one plate, causing the zoraster he'd attacked to issue a harrowing scream as they continued. Where Thoko led, Shotobai followed.

"I'm headed for the source of it!" she shouted behind her.

Gigantic dark tentacles swept their way but halted in the wake of Cephamatu's voice:

"CEASE. THE TRANSGRESSOR, CENGIZ, BETRAYED ONLY TWO."

"If that's so," Jigen stated as he glanced over at Muon, "then we should be on our way."

Jigen and his loyal student quickly headed in the same direction as the others, relying on the same intuition Thokozani had.

"Tavon!" Ududa shouted while suspended above us all.

Surrounding her body, a silver shroud composed of her tau came close to matching the vibrance of Cephamatu. When I looked her way, I recognized a familiar expression.

Dread.

"Tavon!" she screamed desperately, "Recall the sutra with your Imago! Now!"

For a second, I struggled to remember, but I'd rehearsed it too many times to forget:

Over time, above law. Still, like water.

Gentle, embodying sea. Run, river, run.

Move out of time. Out of what binds me.

\-----

Time stopped. There was utter stillness throughout.

Ududa's mask of dread paused in that moment, provoking enough fear in me that, for the first time, I felt agonizing pangs of zol within my body.

I felt immediate power, the rush of adrenaline thickening every muscle.

I pushed out, feeling little resistance while creating enough space for myself to climb over. Seconds after I'd landed on the middle of the archipelago, the tendrils that'd been wrapped around, still forming a partial circle, snapped together at lightning speed.

I'd come close to being pulverized from even resisting. Time hadn't stopped; it was still moving, which meant I had to hurry.

Abul was the closest to me, and so I dashed toward him before his expression was even able to change to astonishment.

"Ta—"

Time sped up, just slightly, and I expanded the size of my left arm before I smashed my enlarged fist into a group of the tendrils holding Abul. He slipped free right after, resulting in a second snap which issued from his former bindings.

And, once we'd rushed to help Mendo...

Time was as it was before.

\-----

I grabbed Mendo's odachi, slid it out from twenty fleshy vines, and cut him loose.

The heads of Cephamatu became more radiant than ever, pulsating with newfound intensity. Jigen and Muon had gained ground on us, but Cephamatu didn't order his zorasters to move again.

Instead, they allowed us to pass while Cephamatu spoke for the final time:

"TWO WERE LEFT...

"TWO WERE ABANDONED TO THE STORM WHICH CLAIMED WHAT WAS A SHADOW OF THE TRUTH, ITHACAI. AS CENGIZ SINNED TWICE, SO IT MUST BE THAT I CLAIM TWO MORE TO REMOVE THE CURSE.

"I, CEPHAMATU, PRESIDE FIRST IN THE WORLD. THOUGH YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED FREE PASSAGE, I COMMAND YOU TO REMEMBER MY NAME. I COMMAND YOU TO SPEAK OF IT WITH PROPER REVERENCE LEST YOU FIND YOURSELVES IN A DARK PIT, DEVOID OF HOPE AND BEREFT OF UNDERSTANDING."

Cephamatu's essence howled as ruby mixed with ivory light. At once, the bodies of both Ududa and Mr. Sensitive glowed like grey embers before an all-powerful deity. I couldn't help but look back, though the way ahead had changed and separated us farther from everyone else.

Cephamatu dissected reality, sending us all through different passages that shone with radiant light. Something drew the three of us on ahead. Warmth spread through me, and the realm of Cephamatu slowly faded into the distance.

This was mercy. Cruel mercy.

"HUMANS AND DEMONS ARE NOT SO DISSIMILAR CREATURES. IN THE END, ALL MORTALS ARE DRAWN TO THE SAME INEVITABILITIES.

"CENGIZ MEIZIKI WAS THE LAST SINNER. THE LAST LIVING MAN LEFT BEHIND FROM THE WRECKAGE. WITH HIS SIN ABSOLVED, MY KINGDOM WILL REIGN IN THE DEEPEST VALLEY. THE ZORASTERS WILL FEAST UNTIL THE END OF TIMES, AND YOU WILL RECALL MY NAME WITH FEAR AND TREMBLING.

"I AM CEPHAMATU, THE FIRST PRESIDER. THIS IS MY JUDGMENT."
17

Points Of Convergence

\-----

Tavon

\-----

Stark white encircled the world around our small group. Mendo said nothing, charging on ahead as if he knew where it all ended.

We were rendered speechless, more concerned with getting away from a hateful god than preoccupied with what was really going on. I'd broken the boundaries of time, escaped fate, and now...

Was I being punished?

The dark hound from before appeared at my side. He'd grown just a little in size, but he wasn't so friendly anymore. His body kept expanding, distracting me to the extent that I didn't realize that time itself had come to another pause. Both Mendo and Abul were frozen in their steps, and then...

I was engulfed in the chaos of a darkness I couldn't run from.

\-----

"It's not so often that I invite another into this place."

At first, I could only hear him.

All around me was pure black. I wasn't sure if my basic senses worked until I saw the glint of something which approached in the distance. It got closer, and I saw that this faint light came from a mask, angled into one point at its bottom and into two at its top. Two upward creases served for what was meant to be the mask's eyes, and, beyond that, I noticed what looked like a silver mane haloing the head of a humanoid much taller than me.

His voice sounded just a little older than mine, but it boomed through a private pocket of reality when he spoke:

"I am Amegdion, the Lion of the Black Sun."

I felt all the energy drain from my body. Without any control, I fell to one knee before him. This stranger's power hit me before I was able to comprehend what I was witnessing. It rivaled Cephamatu's strength, yet it came with a sense of warrior-like grace.

"When you left the realm of that old fool, you crossed through an abnormal rift, one that's placed you in between both times and dimensions.

"In other words, you entered the gods' highway, not easily traversable by most people. You stepped boldly into madness, not knowing that I'd been watching you from the beginning."

"W-What do you mean?"

I didn't know whether to fight back or trust him. If I pissed Amegdion off, he might curse me the same way Cephamatu had cursed Cengiz.

"When your old master discovered you, it was with my eyes, Tavon. There's no longer any need to keep this a secret. In certain parts of the world, my spawn act as my vision. The one your master named 'Anubis' was the first to offer you assistance, right?"

"He was..."

Amegdion nodded.

"I found you then, and I came to find you so that we could speak as familiars."

"What do you want from me?"

"Maybe nothing more than some entertainment," he said. "The same way gods like Cephamatu enjoy killing. In watching you, I took notice of your zol signature immediately. The thing about it that's different from the zol manifestations cultivated by other humans is that, although it condenses tightly to your form, it's grown considerably since you regularly engaged in combat.

"And this is what you are, Tavon. You're a warrior. You fight to conquer, don't you?"

At last, I was able to stand, but I still couldn't meet him on equal ground.

"I've abducted you from a 'Point of Convergence,' wherein timelines and locations are roughly sewn together. I wanted to meet someone who carried the potential to honor my name and without any strings attached."

"What are you asking me to do?"

Amegdion chuckled.

"Nothing you wouldn't have already done. It seems as though you've come to a crossroads, my friend, and, because we've similar goals in mind, I wanted to test something for myself—"

A black hand reached out and took hold of my arm.

In response, my body emitted dark flames that I felt warm my heart. Overwhelming energy coursed through me, adrenaline tied into pulsating knots that brought my spirit higher and higher.

"It's as I thought," Amegdion remarked. "You've a deeper hatred lurking inside of you. I saw it when we first met: a figment of rage I believed soon to burn out. But it lingered, stayed on while you tried to gather what was left of yourself.

"You stood up, not remembering the past, and developed the strength to survive on your own. Out of every human I've encountered within the Citadel, you impressed me the most. That being said, my friend, I'd like to offer you some advice from here on out:

"First,"—he didn't wait for me to respond—"you don't have a choice in serving me, brother. I've made my choice.

"Second, you've betrayed another of your masters, which leaves you with few options other than starving in the wilderness outside of the Citadel. So, there's only one path I have in mind for someone like you."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Hmph. You should already know what I'm talking about. I want you to join the Angelos Association."

I was promptly reminded of Shanaxagora's speech about leaving the Clan to work for them. I didn't realize that the Association was famous enough to capture the attention of a god.

"I'm interested in your growth as a fighter. I believe that, unlike your wretched dad, you've a chance to represent me in the natural world. I'm not asking for public praise; your fists are enough. Tavon, these are my orders to you:

"You will go into the Mid-City of the Citadel and venture into Zone C. Once there, you will locate a man by the name of Japot Kishim. Japot is both a serial murderer and a rapist who has, so far, evaded capture by the authorities as well as multiple assassinations carried out by lower-ranking members of the Association.

"If you find and kill Japot, this will attract the attention of a man known as the Interviewer, who is responsible for contracting those who don't grow up within the organization itself and wish to join from the outside. If you succeed, you will meet with the Interviewer, and, if you manage to impress him, you'll be officially inducted.

"Once you're in, Tavon, I want you to keep going. Keep developing your power. Remember how one of my hounds came to your rescue, and, to honor my name, become the best. When you've achieved your full potential," he said, "we'll meet again—but, until then, I'll do you one last favor.

"Within this Point of Convergence, I'll send you back to your world through one more reality. This place no longer in exists in the current day. In fact, it was destroyed centuries ago, but it possessed a weapon capable of preserving an entire race of people. Perhaps, had they just a little more time, they might've prevailed against their oppressors: your species, the human race."
18

Silo

\-----

Tavon

\-----

My present consciousness returned.

Although I wasn't stuck in time, I'd been placed in a dark, oval room. The only light came in through the glass encircling the top of a metal dome but in what looked like small slits within a dense forest of dirt, rock, and debris. I could sense the individual presences of both Mendo and Abul; shortly after, I realized that we were farther underground than I'd originally thought.

"Is everyone okay?" Mendo was quick to ask; his red eye glowed in the dark.

"We're good," Abul replied, "but I can't sense any nearby signatures. The path we took might've left us stranded."

"Stranded underground?" Mendo said more to himself than anyone else while taking in our surroundings. "Seems like we've got bad luck after all."

In a matter of seconds, my eyes adjusted enough to view faints outlines of what looked like wide monitors installed within thick, marble tables. We were in an ivory-tiled room full of computers that displayed symbols I didn't recognize; two blue starships orbited each other over an aquatic-colored background and with the white outline of a human-sized brain sketched so that it encompassed the entire scene.

Far ahead, metal door panels were separated by the broken glass of what used to be a huge window to the outside. The longer we observed what was going on, the easier it was to make out strange and random quakes in the earth. Each quake was preceded by the sound of the resulting blasts from faraway drone strikes.

"This must be the aftermath of a major battle," Abul said. "There's a war going on outside."

"And it looks like we've got two doors to choose from," retorted Mendo."

"Silo" and "Laos" were our choices.

Silo was the holographic name which hovered over the door on the left; Laos hovered over the right.

Without waiting another instant, Mendo led the charge again, toward "Silo," and we hurried after him. If the encounter I'd had with Amegdion was real, then I trusted in wherever he decided to lead me.

\-----

The following room was just as dark, lit only by neon green digits coupled with symbols from another language. At the very opposite end, all of us were dumbstruck by what we saw:

A broad, vertical tube, big enough to hold a human body, forced pressurized liquid through a system of ducts that ran throughout the domed building. In the center of the container, there was what looked like a teenage kid curled up into a ball; his body was covered in needles attached to rubber tubes which injected liquids into him intermittently.

Abul absentmindedly stepped on a circular plate and triggered a hologram to appear that wasn't at all human in appearance. Instead a bulky, hunched-over beast with small gills lining great jaws set below horizontal slits for eyes appeared. Its emergence caused the system powering the container in the corner to shut down. The hologram spoke without addressing any of us in particular:

"As ordered, this plaque has been struck for the third time. If someone has managed to activate this recording, then it is likely that the Genaqije have fallen as a species."

The hologram glanced down while pondering its next words.

"Let it be known that the Genaqije evolved from the Ancestral Sea, that we migrated only to become stranded within strange territories, and that both demons and humans plotted against us.

"Humans, more than their equally wicked counterparts, happened to be the worst perpetrators. After all, it was the humans who afflicted our species with disease upon disease. They raided our lands with mindless, metallic soldiers and introduced lethal chemicals to our people. From the beginning, the Genaqije were more unaccepted than those who identified as Hayashi; we were pushed to be wiped out with greater effort.

"Humans are irrational creatures. Unlike the Genaqije, they do not factor compassion into the equation of survival. Compassion, in fact, is a secondary concern in the race for greed. They crave more and more, hungering for higher levels of outward supremacy while other species standby as they're forced endure them.

"The humans pushed us into extinction, and so we mirrored their methods of warfare: We improved upon a design that they'd believed to be optimal. We innovated.

"Human governments utilized machines of destruction on the battlefield, using them to spread synthetic pollen which would carry strains to which we hadn't yet been exposed. In retaliation, we captured some of their own. Subject Silo is the 'second prototype' of our original vision: the fusion of human viciousness with the calculating methods of a robotic entity, the android. Silo, referred to formally as 'Silo-01,' is the second manifestation of our vision. He is perfection formed out of what was imperfect, redesigned to surpass the intellectual limitations of our first subject.

"If this panel has been activated for the third time, after all defensive measures have been exhausted, then you are our last hope. Listener, whereas Laos may be called the 'harbinger,' Silo's existence equals absolute salvation for all life forms. Whatever follows after this recording, I pray that a bright future lies ahead for those who would seek out peace above injury."

\-----

Silo appeared just a little younger than me. He was a small teenager, half-skin (his top half) and half-alloy. Part of his face had been torn away to expose cerulean steel which was transparent enough to reveal a series of linked gears and microchips.

Silo hit the ground as each tube withdrew itself, allowing him to fully collapse. The sound of metal banging against the steel floor resounded and was probably what managed to wake him up in the first place.

And that's when I met him, truly, for the first time.

Silo's dark brown hair had grown into a long, unkempt crown around his head. Whereas one eye was an all-black vertical slit, the other's pupil was composed of two miniature, grey bars that circled each other whenever he studied anything. The top-right half of his forehead exposed more of the small circuits that lied underneath, showing off what looked like genius engineering from the Genaqije. In contrast, natural, human freckles were collected below his eyes.

He was shorter than me—though that would change later on—and he seemed so fragile in comparison to all three of us. Instead of addressing anyone directly, he gasped and then recklessly charged forward—

Mendo and I blocked his way. We pushed back as he cried out: "Where is he? Let me go—let me go!"

This caused me to falter, and Silo broke free.

He rushed ahead but halted in place once realizing where he was.

"What is this place? Where's Soren?"

"Soren?" Abul tilted his head to the side.

Silo froze.

"You all right?" Mendo asked him.

"..."

Mendo stepped forward, then—

"PROCESSING FAILURE. ERROR. SEQUENCE OVERLOAD. SCENARIO UNRECOGNIZED."

"What? Hey! Kid!" Mendo continued trying to comfort him, but Silo became unresponsive.

His eyes stayed fixed in front. Silo didn't breathe.

Behind us, the door panels shook as a light grew to encompass them. In their place, what looked like a bolt of lightning gleamed through a new crevice. Reality began to shift, with every image around me taking on a surrealistic nature. Each computer terminal lost shape; the domed ceiling spread apart, breaking off into stark white once again.

As all this was going on, Silo didn't react. Not at first. After reality had fragmented, however, he started to show real emotion. What he expressed alternated between confusion and anger. In the end, he spoke his last words stranded a state of genuine dismay: "I can't find him. I'm scared, and I can't find him..."

Silo fell—

Mendo was there to sweep him up and onto his shoulders. In a second, we all dashed toward the center ivory rift while placing faith in wherever it would take us next.
19

Technique And Strategy

\-----

Tavon

\-----

You've probably never heard of Lake Apo, the lake that's a mixture of red and pink. It's a pretty sizable body of water set between three different landmasses along the coast to the Southeast of the Citadel.

Lake Apo is one of a kind. Small tributaries link from it to nearby rivers that carry its curse: the ability to turn the dead to stone.

After crossing through the realm of Cephamatu, being captured by Amegdion, and rescuing an android from another time period, the three of us emerged on green, rocky shores right before hundreds of petrified birds as well as the other strange creatures that had died there.

It was said that their statues would continue to grow, to accumulate mineral deposits until they absorbed the lake itself. People still believe, one day, that Lake Apo will contain nothing but millions of stone graves that stretch for miles. They believe the curse will keep spreading, and we stood in awe of it as the lake appeared to change the sky's tint.

"I can sense more than one zol signature," Abul announced.

"Really?" Mendo's expression turned desperate. "Are they all—"

"Together? No. Multiple signatures are reading out across the area; despite that, I do sense a stronger reading from,"—he gestured toward the coast—"the North, where those silver willow trees stand."

"How many can you sense, Abul?"

"Seek with your mind," he scolded him in reply, then he pointed to the West—"Thokozani and Shotobai went in that direction, so it's unlikely that the two groups will meet."

"Exactly!" Mendo exclaimed while gripping the handle of his odachi tightly. "Which is why it's up to us to make sure that the Father doesn't get away."

At once, all of us nodded in agreement. Mendo shifted Silo's body into a more comfortable position across his shoulders, and then we were off.

\-----

Across the field, and while enduring harsh, bitter winds in the race to catch up to Cengiz, Abul told us to slow our pace a bit. He believed exactly three signatures had separated, and—as dozens of willow trees covered the dirt trail ahead, shrouding a dark form leaning against one of them—I spotted a familiar shape out of the corner of my eye.

Muonsaga was sprinting toward me, but he came to a halt when the three of us took notice of him at the same time.

Mendo put Silo's lifeless body down, then he said to Muon while lightly tapping on the pommel of his odachi, "Why would you still support him? Are you really that stupid? To lose everyone around you and yet pursue us regardless—to kill your own companions for his approval..."

Both of Muon's katanas shook as he spoke, "This is how honorable men conduct themselves. It's you who've strayed from the Way! You've forgotten that all actions should be performed with the intentions of benefitting the lord to whom you've sworn yourself. We are still the Meiziki Clan!"

"You're delusional, kid." Mendo furrowed his brow as he stared at him darkly. "I don't want to have to be the one to put you down, so you should stop while you're ahead."

Muon paused to swallow, then he said, "Lord Jigen's already waiting for you, Mendo. He's up there," he gestured toward the willow trees.

"And the Father?" Abul asked.

"Escaping. Jigen and I are all that's left."

Abul reacted by sprinting past both of us. Mendo was stunned for a second, but he followed in suit while leaving me behind to take care of Muonsaga.

Even then, I tried to reason with him.

"How can you keep serving that lunatic?"

"Because I didn't forget who I am!" Muon roared back, more than prepared to fight now that it was just the two of us. "I gave Jigen my word, but that wouldn't mean anything to you. You took my spot as the Fifth Seneschal, but that wasn't enough. You've already betrayed two of your masters—you should've killed yourself a long time ago."

"Be quiet, Muon."

I sized him up, not totally sure if my fists were tough enough to avoid getting sliced through. In a matchup like this, I was at a disadvantage—especially since Muonsaga's discipline rivalled mine. But, before the two of us could step into battle, the Fourth Seneschal was the one who made the first move:

Abul was still plunging forward of Mendo, exposing himself to the swordsman who lurked under the shade of green canopies. When Abul got too close, I heard it—

—SHINTE—

An explosion of wind came next, followed by a second nearby burst of energy in response—

—SHINTE—

Both Mendo and Jigen raced across the plain while their respective taus extended behind them.

Jigen held his left blade at the level of his waist and somewhat tucked in; his right he'd positioned with its point gleaming at an upward angle. He swung at Abul's neck with the right. Mendo met his advance with his odachi; He slashed upward and batted away Jigen's first blade, but he didn't break his opponent's focus.

Jigen feinted for Abul with a consecutive swing. When Abul jumped back, he thrusted his left katana partway into Mendo's hip. Mendo tried to evade by strafing to the side, giving Abul enough room to make a run for the Father, but Jigen's right arm had already recovered. He swung at Mendo's head diagonally, and, in one stroke, Jigen slashed open the skin running from Mendo's cheekbone to his chin as Mendo failed to maneuver out of his reach in time.

They squared off again, neither having broken a sweat. Jigen didn't so much as crack a smile, and Mendo's hatred showed itself clearly in how he watched his opponent with a permanent scowl.

"I've won this fight. I've surpassed you since the day you stopped trained. Your skill is fundamentally inferior; it shows in the cluelessness of your footwork. You've no aptitude for this life, after all."

If Mendo chose to respond, he risked opening his wound more and getting blood in his mouth. If he'd been an ordinary thug, he'd have made this mistake.

Instead:

—SHINTE—

Jigen seemed to grin for the first time.

Mendo charged toward him, prompting Jigen to prepare a defensive stance—

But Mendo stopped short. Though he wasn't even close enough to use his odachi effectively, he still swung at Jigen's head.

Jigen, confused because he'd expected a more aggressive attack, swatted the odachi away with both of his blades. He grew more confident, lunging toward Mendo while thrusting both katanas forward!

Because of his first strike, Mendo had given himself enough distance to avoid a total confrontation with his opponent. He backed away again, causing Jigen to steadily close the distance between them while he moved his way. Once Mendo was far enough, he performed the same trick:

—SHINTE—

Using a short burst of his zol, Mendo sprang toward Jigen, acting as if he was about to deliver a mortal blow, then he drew back just a few inches short of sending a decent strike. Each time, he'd settle for connecting with Jigen's blades and creating a moving stalemate.

Soon, it was obvious that Mendo's movements were directing them both deeper into the willow trees. Jigen eventually caught on as well, and he chuckled once they'd covered a considerable distance.

"This is your last resort? A game?"

Jigen approached in a bloodthirsty trance.

"Just because you drank from a shrine doesn't mean that you've reached a new level of swordsmanship," retorted Mendo. "Changing one's method of battle is the result of changing what's on the inside.

"Jigen, you are not an expert at your craft. No. You're just a child who finally grew up."

Jigen laughed, rushing toward his opponent much faster now and allowing Mendo to beckon him farther away.

Before I knew it, Muonsaga nearly stabbed me through the eye. I backed away from the tip of his sword, then he slashed at me wildly. Muon moved so quickly that all I could see was steel whirring through the air. I dodged most of his attacks by keeping enough space between us, still measuring whether or not I could take him.

I didn't understand the mind or the rhythm of battle the same way Mendo did, but I could sense that Muon's tau had collected into his blades. When he swept them in my direction, with eyes full of bloodlust passed down from Jigen, waves of vibrant blue flashed in front of my face. When I saw that, I knew that a fist-to-sword block wouldn't be my best option.

I chose another route.

Though Muonsaga was too fast to have a breakable guard or expose obvious openings, his overconfidence in his stamina was what held him back. While his swings were near perfect, his efforts to keep me at bay tired him out to the point that he started to lower his guard. As several seconds went by, I watched both of his arms struggle to properly hold the weights they carried...

Then I struck. Muonsaga swung at me with his right blade; I pressed my forearms together, expanded them, took the hit, and moved my arms inside his guard while forcing my blood to spray into his eyes.

His discipline proved to be more refined than I'd thought. Muon tried to thrust his left katana through my chest, but I punched Muon in the sternum so hard that he nearly fell on his back; at the same time, the tau he'd stored inside his blades surged toward where I'd hit him.

I charged in, anticipating anything while keeping my mind clear and focused on opportunity.

Muonsaga slashed at me—

And I deflected his katana with my right fist. I grabbed the same blade, held it mid-length, and forced the palm of my other hand into his elbow. I hyperextended it, pausing briefly...

Then I broke his arm.

Muon screamed, dropping his sword as he backed away. I kept on with my approach and kicked the weapon out of his reach.

"Muon," I said, "this is stupid. There's no point in continuing."

"Bastard!" he yelled while extending the end of his remaining katana toward me, "Fuck you—y-you're just a fucking brute!"

A sheen of sweat covered his face. He shuddered as he attempted to overcome the pain.

"Everyone knows you're strong," I told him. "You can start over and serve whoever you want."

"I couldn't live down the shame, Tavon! Do you know what that makes me if I give up?"

"Muon," I'd run out of patience, "I don't want to fight you anymore."

Muonsaga snarled back at me.

"You moron," he gritted his teeth, "I can beat you!"

He charged my way, drawing one sword behind him while preparing a strike which harnessed the full extent of his power. Muonsaga swung, and—

I drove my fist into his stomach, executing an uppercut that'd reached him faster than he could attack.

Muonsaga gagged and staggered backward, but then he—almost mindlessly—headed my way again. He swung more haphazardly and fell short of slicing my head in two.

When his arm jutted out before my eyes, I took hold of it and began forcing it downward. With what sense he had left, Muon concentrated the rest of his zol into his functioning arm, glaring back at me as the fight was momentarily suspended.

"Give. Up." I warned him again.

Muonsaga spat in my face.

I broke his other arm.

\-----

While I strode away from him, anxious to catch up to Mendo, Muon spoke through bitter tears:

"This isn't over," he said. "When I've recovered, Tavon, I'll be expected to go after the man who dishonored me. I'll abide... by what I was taught. I'll find you, I'll ask for a rematch, and then I'll take your head, claiming my life with it for my failure to defend my master."

I glanced back slightly.

"If you so much as think about fighting me, I'll come back and crush your arms before they can recover."

As the Sun started to set, I moved for the willow trees, into a jungle of blood and steel...

\-----

Mendo had persisted in drawing his enemy deep into an array of moss-colored canopies; they intersected with a forest of grey and white leaves which stretched on for hundreds of miles.

After he was satisfied with the terrain around himself, Mendo staggered his footing; he slashed at the canopies above, whirling his giant blade into a pattern Jigen couldn't track.

—SHINTE—

Mendo turned the odachi into a small tornado which hailed its arrival by blowing a storm of dense foliage at Jigen!

—SHINTE—

Jigen activated his own inner speed and cut a path through his enemy's trick, expecting Mendo to charge in with a powerful thrust. Like a dance, Jigen deftly worked his blades around Mendo's odachi to slow its impact while moving inward—he slashed down with both katanas and prompted Mendo to throw up his metal hand so he could absorb the blow.

As a result, both blades became stuck partway, enabling Mending to react faster than Jigen:

—UPEPO PUNCH—

The wind energy he'd gathered earlier hadn't totally dispersed; on the contrary, it congregated toward the fist he sent spiraling Jigen's way. Although Jigen was able to avoid being hit directly, its projected power shot out from Mendo's arm and became a fist of wind that plunged into Jigen's body.

Jigen was thrown back several feet, yet he gained his footing by jumping off the side of one of the trees marking the beginning of the ashen forest. He landed just as Mendo swept under with a slash directed skyward; Jigen rolled his body around the odachi as he came down, backhanded Mendo in the head with the flat end of one blade, and cut out the synthetic orb he'd been using as an eye.

Mendo didn't make a sound as he backed away, concentrating only on the current battle. But, before he could get very far, Jigen used a power of his own:

—TWIN IRON SHINTE—

Almost as if they were scorching bolts of silver lightning, Jigen's blades flickered through the forest alongside his racing speed while he darted toward his rival.

In response, Mendo used Shinte to flee while keeping his eyes on Jigen's advance. Rather than follow a straight trail, Jigen blazed through every tree standing in the way; in seconds, he cut his own path toward Mendo, growing in his frenzy the longer he was forced to wait. His bloodlust threatened to overwhelm him, but Jigen's reasoning had matured somewhat. He rapidly circled around his foe and, in doing so, created a clearing which would serve as the final battleground.

Jigen finished without appearing to show the tiniest bit of exhaustion. No—in fact, he'd gotten faster and more confident than ever.

"How many times will I have to cut you before you fall on your knees, I wonder?"

"Idiot. While you may have found your enlightenment by drinking from a shrine, I've found my own through battle. I didn't recognize the soul of my swordsmanship until I fought Enok. I'm slowly realizing again that strategy is an evolving process."

In a flash, they both channeled Shinte, dashing in each other's direction before their swords collided. They rapidly flickered away from each other for brief intervals then closed in once more while keeping their guards up.

Jigen readied one of his blades at Mendo's head while the other was held close enough that he could use it to block in case Mendo tried a quick thrust. Mendo charged but stopped short while his feet slid across the ground. In the same instant, he raised his odachi over his head with both hands; Jigen lunged, preparing to thrust his katanas through Mendo's midsection. Jigen couldn't strike his opponent in time, and he crossed his blades over his head as the odachi came down hard.

The blow rocked Jigen back, but he gained composure in time to throw his swords up again to block a second strike. The second was stronger than the first, and then came Mendo's strategy:

—SHINTE—

In no time, Mendo's new posture allowed him to focus speed into the muscles of his upper body; this way he could reign down strike after strike in quick succession, wearing down Jigen's stamina with attacks he couldn't necessarily contend with considering the slenderness of his katanas.

As soon as he spotted a decent opening, Jigen reacted—

—SHINTE—

His speed matched that of Mendo's, but his strikes were aimed closer to his opponent's heart.

Mendo was able to fend him off a total of three times before Jigen's agility surpassed his own; Jigen thrusted toward Mendo's stomach. Mendo clumsily arced his odachi enough to slightly deflect the attack, yet it still carved a deep gash along his side. He leaped back, channeled his zol, and extended both the length and width of his odachi. His metal hand retained function, so he more than easily beared the weight of a weapon even stronger now than what Jigen possessed.

"You have been my greatest opponent!" Mendo shouted amidst heavy breaths. "It is an honor to face someone who could've downed Enok with more ease than myself. With two swords, you've no one to fear."

Jigen frowned. "It's too late to beg for mercy," he said. "For now, let the gods decide your fate."

Jigen slashed at his opponent without showing any signs of weariness. Anyone now observing the fight would think he'd just started. His attacks put Mendo on the defensive—but Mendo had already prepared for this kind of advance. He blocked from on high, then, when Jigen's strikes slowed ever slightly, he'd swing downward, interrupting his opponent's flow. The great blade would shatter Jigen's concentration, with sheer strength forcing him into a defensive posture. Instead of striking back, Mendo conserved his energy while continuing the fight this way.

After three more rounds, there came an end to their struggle.

Mendo swung overhead for the third time, preparing to obliterate whatever stood in his way. He aimed for Jigen's head, forcing Shinte throughout himself with a series of strikes that glanced off Jigen's katanas.

Once.

Twice.

Mendo remained on the defensive, and, by his third strike, he quickly lowered his odachi and then proceeded with a forward thrust!

Jigen controlled this very thrust using both of his blades, forcing his tau to move through them while he controlled the exact trajectory of his enemy's attack.

That's when I came into play.

Jigen staggered backward while attempting to absorb the thrust. I expanded my legs and leapt out from the surrounding forest, moving fast toward Jigen!

Both of them spotted me as I came charging their way, but Jigen was the first to react:

While still bearing the weight of the odachi with one blade, he used his other to block his face when I swung. In a moment of focused rage, I channeled the full extent of my strength into my fist and forearm and expanded them into what became a muscular human lance. My strike connected directly with the middle of Jigen's right katana; it shattered.

Jigen gasped, keeping his grip tight on the broken blade as he flinched and stepped back as fast as he could.

Not fast enough, however.

Mendo charged, swung his odachi overhead—

—SHINTE—

Mendo sliced through flesh, parted Jigen's neck, and decapitated his opponent in one move.

The Fourth Seneschal's head hit the ground with a heavy thud, and both Mendo and I witnessed what looked like an angry scowl clear across Jigen's face. His eyes still analyzed his surroundings, then they stared straight ahead as what was left of Jigen studied us during his final moments.

After several more seconds, his expression softened. I think he might've understood, at the end, that he'd lost before he passed away.

The two of us stood over his corpse, and, believe it or not, Mendo wept. He knelt next to his fallen comrade and whispered something into his ear.

While he did this, I stayed silent. Though I'd badly wanted to see Jigen dead for what he'd done to me, I felt nothing once my dream was realized. When Jigen left this world, he took my hatred with him.

"In training, I will mourn you," Mendo said. "In life, I will learn from the lessons yours taught me. Seneschal Jigen, thank you.

"Thank you... for an honorable fight."

20

Sunset

\-----

Tavon

\-----

Mendo was able to detect a trace of Abul's energy, one I felt as well when we'd edged closer to Lake Apo in our pursuit.

"His energy spiked, but I'm not sure why. I can't detect Phaedra's aura, so why would he..." Mendo broke off into contemplation while picking up the pace.

We rushed along the shoreline, passing by more creatures that'd been turned to stone. The Sun glinted harshly off something not so far in the distance. Against its light, I saw two shadows, one lower than the other.

"He caught up to him," Mendo exclaimed. "I have to see that monster's face one last time!"

\-----

Cengiz Meiziki, the Father and the last real boss I worked for, cried as he overlooked Lake Apo. Behind him, Abul stood with his eyes closed while his palms faced outward at his sides. Because I'd reached a state of Awakening, I could now see a string of ethereal tau attached from Abul's mind to the mind of Cengiz.

Confident in his powers as a demon—and in us—Abul had run on ahead and subdued the Father not long after Mendo's duel. He'd subdued him, and, surprisingly... he'd waited for us.

"What is he doing?" Mendo asked Abul while gesturing at Cengiz.

Cengiz was writing something on a notepad, pausing every now and then to shed a few more tears. The mark of the curse had vanished from what was now just the plump, sorry face of an average man.

"This is how I decided he would repent." Abul stated calmly. "The leader of the Meiziki Clan wanted to execute one of his own students and demanded that a Death Poem be written on the occasion. In honor of his own ridiculous actions, I've requested that the 'Father' be the one to write the poem, after all."

"That's... sensible," Mendo replied while circling around our former leader. "But are you sure it's enough?"

"Please..." Cengiz whispered. "I don't know what I've done."

"Are you serious?" Mendo unconsciously reached for his odachi. "You risked everyone to fix a fucking curse! Do you know how many lives have been lost, Cengiz? And for you to do this all for yourself...

"There was no plan." Mendo glared at him. "In the end, you were only thinking of yourself. I see now: it was all an illusion."

"More than that..." Cengiz started, choking back his sobs.

\-----

Cengiz Meiziki

\-----

You couldn't know what it's like to bask in the presence of divine beauty. There are basic aesthetics, but I'm imploring you to imagine the highest aesthetic. What if someone whose beauty put the angels to shame chose to dedicate herself to you?

I loved Heidana, but her very image went beyond human love. As I've said before, she could sway the hearts of not just men but the gods themselves. Alas, such beauty should've been expected to produce more of the same.

Our daughter, Ceidana, was nearly identical to her mother in every way. The shape of her was the same; the way she smiled before I lost control of my uglier instincts was earth-shattering. Both she and her mother possessed what was the pinnacle of charm, and so I had to hide them both.

Heh...

But while I hid them, I loved them the same. I wanted them both to myself, though I knew this desire was a perversion of what was natural. You couldn't possibly understand what it means to look upon a clone of your wife—not just that—a better version, even!

The people of Ithacai envied me. Everyone knew about the splendor of both Heidana and Ceidana, about the perfect family of Cengiz Meiziki.

Then Cephamatu came.

While the lesser gods had insulted my name and sought to take my family from me, Cephamatu had grievances of his own to settle. It was just a coincidence that, as his children grew more suspicious of me, he set out to destroy the city he'd created.

Lord Cephamatu came and annihilated all who resided within what was left of Ithacai; he restored a pure truth to the world of Alethea, and, when Heidana and Ceidana were caught up in the wreckage...

I left them. I recognized that Cephamatu had arrived to change the world for good, and so I prioritized my survival over everyone else's.

I knew that my desires were twisted. I knew that I'd grown too lustful, wanting both my wife as well as her. When Cephamatu came, it was a blessing in disguise. A god came to cleanse a land which had obscured the truth. I knew I was destined to return just so I would know that he was still there, waiting for me to atone for abandoning them.

He showed me the truth. The truth was worth getting rid of that horrible affliction.

Gentlemen... this is the first time I've been sober in so long...

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Even in the end," Mendo said, "you disgust me."

"Does that mean that you'll be the one to kill me then?"

Mendo hesitated while glancing at Abul.

Abul shook his head.

"Tell me when you've finished the poem," he said.

"I'm afraid I already have."

"Good," Abul responded with his eyes still closed. "Now do me a favor, Cengiz."

"What's that?"

"Walk into the lake."

"What?" Cengiz chuckled. "You can't be serious."

Although his expression was nonchalant, Cengiz's body moved of its own accord.

"Hold on a minute!" his demeanor turned serious. "Surely there's another way? Demon prince? Abul!"

Abul said nothing in return, keeping his eyes shut while Cengiz strode toward the beginning of the lake. Once he'd gotten his feet wet, I think the realization began to set in for him.

"It's just a scare tactic," he muttered to himself, "you must want my money. You have to want something...

"Wait... Hey!"

The water rose to his knees; Abul wasn't planning on stopping him.

"Hey!" Cengiz shouted as he forced himself to glance back, revealing a series of worried creases lining his forehead. "What are you doing? I am your LORD! Wait! Wait—stop!"

Half of him had been submerged, then he started sobbing again.

"No!" He cried. "No—no—no! No..."

The water reached his neck.

"I'm sorry," Cengiz said. "I couldn't live with the curse. I had to..."—it rose to just a few inches below his mouth—"I had to listen to him! To Cepha—"

The Father's head was submerged. Above him, a series of bubbles rose to the surface. Abul stayed in his trance, forcing Cengiz to drown as he controlled his mind.

Mendo picked up the notepad Cengiz had left behind and read out loud the Father's Death Poem:

"It's often that one loses himself to delusions. In a life that can be indifferent and diminishing, one grand vision represents an escape.

"One visualizes how the future ought to be, though delusions persist evermore. Delusions create villains and, just as often, heroes out of mere humans."
21

Nadir

\-----

Tavon

\-----

After going back to retrieve Silo's body, I discovered that Muonsaga had fled without waiting. I was so angry with him because I thought it was foolish to continue defying the people who'd tried to be his friends.

This was the end of my old life as a banger, and it had ended with just the three of us: Mendo, Abul, and I. We'd been grouped together by chance but strengthened through mutual concern. Against what had been the selfishness inherent within the Meiziki as a faction, we'd stuck together and prevailed against those who'd obeyed Cephamatu.

While we straddled the shoreline in venturing past the all that we'd withstood, I asked them both: "What do you plan on accomplishing from here?"

Mendo didn't initially contribute, but I knew he was listening intently to Abul's response:

"What I always planned to do, my friend. Don't you remember what I said to you the first time you met me? Do you really believe that the personalities of demons change so easily?"

"You're going back to the Citadel?"

"We all are," Mendo chimed in. "Otherwise, how else can we cash in on the rest of the money we earned?"

"I'm afraid that's not an option if our accounts are already being watched by the Dawn Bureau," Abul said.

"That's unlikely." Mendo scoffed. "From the beginning, we were always nothing. Cengiz Meiziki was the one they wanted, and now his legacy has passed. I'll take my chances. Tavon,"—he glanced back at me—"what will you do? I'm assuming you're coming with us?"

"I will," I said, "but I won't stick around for long."

"Oh?"

"I'm going to join the Angelos Association. I managed to get a lead on someone called 'The Interviewer.'"

"Interesting," Mendo replied. "The Angelos Association...

"If you don't mind, I'd like to help you meet this person. Perhaps a partnership with government assassins is the only route that makes sense if I want to flourish as a swordsman. It's all I have left."

"And while the two of you go chasing contracts for the Association," Abul interjected, "I'll be building the legacy of the Shikon Clan. Feel free to join me once you've gotten tired of being bossed around."

"Ha," Mendo chuckled, glancing back at me a second time with a smirk. "Wherever we go, there will always be someone who wants to boss us around. That's the life of people with talent; from here, we've a long way to real mastery."

Before we'd gotten very far, we encountered one of the Nadir...

\-----

Janelle

\-----

Like the Hayashi, the Nadir were a race of people who'd appeared out of time. However, rather than showing up as corporeal beings other nations could reasonably wage wars against, the Nadir were more similar in nature to the Solace: spirits with one specific curiosity.

When addressing people, they created mirages reflecting the general consensus of what everyone within a group believed was an attractive or "honest-looking" human. If exposed for what they really were, the Nadir were known to show their true forms to those too wise for their own good: decayed bodies covered in stretched but wrinkled skin that grew thinner before long, narrow teeth. Their real eyes were beads of black that peered into the human soul.

They sought answers from deep within, from what made up the heart of humanity.

\-----

Tavon

\-----

"Good evening, strangers."

A middle-aged woman with bright teeth, green eyes, and a white headscarf bowed to us. Over her shoulder, she carried a large, black sack by its string and showed no signs of strain despite probably having traveled for some time.

We froze in place, all uncomfortably aware that we'd brought an android along with us, but...

This stranger wasn't focused on that.

Instead, she looked straight into Mendo's eyes.

"Oh my," she raised her palms to her cheeks as she gasped, "I've never seen such a distinct imprint of suffering."

"E-Excuse me?" Mendo stepped toward her.

The wanderer held up her hands defensively, then she said, "You've developed a different form of humanity than what I'm used to seeing. There is emotion, then there is perseverance. There is bleak solitude. Grief. Eyes which see far in both directions."

From over her head, white tau flourished and dimmed everything else around us in comparison. The stranger's eyes burned like jade flames; the spirit's true face was exposed, and it spoke again while grinning at us, "I am of the Nadir. I crave what you humans experience and feel as 'pain and guilt,' and it is known that I may absolve you of it.

"It is more common than you think, that people like you would create masks to hide their suffering. This is what humans ultimately do: they form another expression as a way of release; they become the Other through me, creating masks to obscure what changed them in such a way.

"Your name is Mendo. This is what your eyes tell me, but that is not all that is apparent. I may easily breathe in the landscape of your thoughts; therefore, I'd like to ask you something."

Mendo clenched his fists. He fought back his emotions while trying to clear his head.

Regardless, the Nadir's words were too much for him:

"Would you like to forget about them?

"I know you're hurting over those no longer with us in this world. You feel intense grief, insurmountable guilt even, but you have not carried it so well. Trauma is your present state, but, if I offered you the chance to let it go, would you take it?"

Mendo paused.

He relaxed his shoulders and then fell to his knees while keeping his head bowed.

"I don't know what to say...

"I just know that I don't want to cry anymore. If you can stop that, then I'll do anything."

The Nadir's grin deepened.

"Exceptional," it said.

It placed its hands across the sides of Mendo's head, then the Nadir absorbed what looked like blood-red tau through ghost-like veins that extended from its wrists. The Nadir pulled back, forming an object as memories I couldn't see leaked from Mendo's head.

Before my eyes, my mentor forgot his troubles, forgot what had made him feel so hopeless in his path to be a warrior. He'd lost himself, yet, in freeing his mind of grief, Mendo felt he could forge ahead.

When the Nadir was finished, a mask formed which was composed of what resembled two halves of two different faces. On the left, I recognized the face of Ovo from having been in Mendo's mind. On the right, I saw the face of Elder Nagao. Both were blended into the combination of a scowl as well as a mask of mourning.

The Nadir palmed this creation with fascination before quickly opening the sack it carried. It added this mask to its collection, then it was on its way.

While Mendo kept his head to the ground, weeping for what he'd left behind, I heard the spirit say to us:

"No matter how much you try, you may never revisit the past. In the lives of those who call themselves humans, many fail to recognize that all moments will begin to mean something in the end. Although they might not see the entire picture right away, it is part of a human's natural journey to eventually look back, to experience both relief and regret, and to think on who they might become in the future once exposed to the truth of reality.

"Mendo... Abul... Tavon..."

The Nadir halted long enough to glance back.

"The future burns bright. Too bright. Remember your allies; remember the lessons of the past."

\------

PART SIX

Silo

\------
1

Red Mask

\------

Silo

\------

Monday Night

There are two of them in my room. One has tight, curly hair that's dyed blue; the other's got in silver extensions to completement blond hair.

While I'm giving slow strokes to the blond one in missionary, she eats out Genieva as she's crouched with her wet thighs situated over her face. Genieva leans forward to make out with me while the three of us interlock in an ecstasy which goes beyond exhaustion.

We enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, then we switch positions. A little longer, then we switch again. Again and again; I take both of them, handle each without ever tiring.

Tuesday Night

I've invited a woman named Triena over for a few drinks as well as a first look at the release of Vitality Logger, Version Three.

Once she's at my apartment, which I've decorated in a dual collage of ivory and ebony, I make her my specialty: expresso mixed with sake and made lighter to the taste with milk. I put on jazz music, dim the lights, arrange lit candles just subtly enough so I don't appear obsessive, and we watch the first real premiere of my project together.

Before, the people of the Citadel interacted with each other using preset characters they designed themselves. Starting out, my company had limited technology, so we could only create so many presets for everyone to use. From there, we designed an "expose" option, which allowed two people to show holograms of their authentic selves within private rooms. These rooms could be manipulated to contain every possible scenario: catastrophes, historical events, and romantic comedies.

Humans tend to like romantic comedies more, so I power on a virtual reality simulation of a popular film in the Citadel's Upper-City, Love of a Gunan, then I walk her through the new system.

In this new system, everyone will be able to produce exact virtual replicas of themselves; as an added bonus, however, users may tweak whatever components they find to be dislikable about themselves. While this could prove deceptive to those looking for romantic partners, the intent is for people to feel as though they've been placed on an equal social footing with one another. Overall, the nature of intellectual communication will dominate, and, although users might be able to modify themselves, it should only be within certain parameters. Therefore, an obese individual cannot make themselves skinny just as someone who's bald cannot assign themselves a full head of hair. A disfiguring scar, on the other hand, may be removed or diminished.

Triena seems impressed by everything I've showed her, and she agrees to dinner that night.

And, also that night, it's not long before she's on her knees. Four minutes, then I want the same from her. I go from making her orgasm with my mouth to having her ride me until her legs won't quit shaking.

When she's done, Triena rolls over. A minute passes; she curls up around me while resting her head on my chest. She grins.

"Did you like it?"

Why does she always ask that?

"Yes."

Wednesday Night

Triena was another one of my regular flings.

Samiah's the human I suppose I should consider my significant other. That is, she is significant, even if she is one of the "others."

I take Samiah out to dinner. I can't remember the name of the place exactly—she chose it—but it produces the illusion that our table's suspended amidst a cyber ocean, with quiet instrumentals playing in the background. The light around us isn't too abrasive; the atmosphere isn't threatening, so I'm more comfortable when Samiah starts ranting concerning the matters of the human world.

She talks about the shortcomings of others, about how her family treats her, and typically reflects on the things in life she wants to improve. Samiah's not only an investor in my private company, but she's used the stock money from Vitality Logger's growth to supplement her rise as the founder of a cybernetic make-up company: Shima.

Samiah knows more about humans than I do, so I've always let her lead our conversations.

"Do you know what the word 'stoic' means, Silo?"

Because I'm usually aloof, she assumes that I'm also stupid.

"Yes. Why?"

The waiter brings the both of us a curry made from synthetic meat. Her portion's larger than mine, and she tries to give her dish to me.

"No thanks. I can't," I refuse.

My body can only consume half this amount of meat, but I can't hope that she'll understand. She presses her portion upon me, and I refuse again. Her pupils constrict in subtle anger, making my processing system move faster. Her persistence is causing me a great deal of stress, but, as always, nothing about that shows on the outside. She perceives me as an emotionless businessman.

That's not what I am.

\------

I take her in missionary after dinner.

Though we've already gone through other positions, we take the time to look into each other's eyes while sharing what's supposed to be an intimate moment.

For humans.

This might be the wrong emotion to feel, but a part of me experiences what's called "sadness" at this thought. I continue to take her; her legs press inward as her body shudders.

"I love you," she says.

And it's true. Her eyes have dilated completely.

"I love you, too."

\------

I've heard that belief is what drives the strange habits of human society.

I was born during a nightmare, and I woke up in a glass cage. It wasn't so easy to adjust. I'm amazed that I'm even capable of conceiving of the concept of reality itself. After all, if I'm an android...

There's no way I could ever experience the human emotion they term 'love.'
2

Green Mask

\------

Silo

\------

Thursday Morning

If a human who lacks true empathy may be called a psychopath, then I must conclude that this is why I attract them so often. This, and the fact that Vitality Logger has remained under my control since its inception.

As a show of authority, I intend to produce a spectacle which should stun my peers into accepting this new approach to using Vitality Logger.

I've at least fifty major investors, all presently seated around a long, square table. Most everyone's brought coffee for what should be a long meeting. Any move I make must be discussed with these odd ones, a group consisting of the middle-aged as well as the elderly. Not one happens to be a species other than human.

I give the same presentation I demonstrated to Triena, then the humans start their interrogation:

"Silo..."

The one called Amour Bali, who's recently become an investor even though he hates me, clasps his hands together and continues: "Ahem. I'm afraid that I'll have to object to the improvements you're offering, as it violates a very sacred contract between us."

"You mean the—"

"I've designed presets for you before, so why wouldn't you have me participate in making the new presets?"

"This has nothing to do with personal talent, Mr. Bali. The Vitality Logger's capabilities no longer require an active artist because they will now just clone the citizens who use it. This is to create an honest and just network of—"

"Fuck that!"

Amour stands up and curtly straightens his blazer. He points his finger at me in accusation, "You've shown to me that you've absolutely no respect for true art, Si! As your investor, and after agreeing to your absurd conditions during our first meeting, I trusted you to help me accomplish a vision. Do you know what a vision is, idiot?"—the room gasps—"You cut me out without telling me!

"From this day forward, we're no longer business partners," he says. "I'm done with you."

Mr. Bali leaves the room. Seconds after, another man stands up. He appears... sincere; the sun shining in from a nearby window highlights the intensity of his eyes. He says, "Vitality Logger should be an inspiration to all future social programmers. I placed stock in this company because I believed in its vision: to create a social paradise. For centuries of human history, Si, people have had to deal with the inconveniences caused by unpleasant interactions. Hmm..."

He sighs, then he bows out of respect.

"I'm afraid that I cannot support dramatically changing how our users interact with each other. Besides, if they aren't comfortable with themselves from the beginning, then two strangers may never achieve a real discourse between one another due to poor self-images."

"I understand that, but—"

"It's okay, Si." He smiles at me. "You keep going ahead with your new vision. You've the resources now to do whatever you wish, but I, personally, cannot support this change—especially when you haven't mentioned it much beforehand."

As he makes his way out of the office, followed by five more former investors, I experience a sensation which is defined by humans as despair. At least, I've reason to think that's what it is. I know I've lost some important battle, but the rest of my sponsors remain in front of me. Even without the support of the others, I will proceed with the update. Because Vitality Logger is the foremost application used by everyone living in the Citadel, they've no choice but to accept the inevitable.

I believe in a world where humans feel more comfortable living with free expressions of their individual personalities. This update to the Dawn Federation's social network is bound to change everything, and, in my own way, I hope to engineer a more honest, empathetic world.

\------

Once the meeting's over, I discover that Samiah's not so fond of my improvements.

"Why didn't you talk to me about the changes you were making?"

"I..."

"What's wrong? Was it supposed to be a surprise, Silo? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I felt confident," I respond. "People should feel free to be themselves. They shouldn't have to hide because they fear imperfection."

"And what do you call 'imperfection,' Si?"

She stares into my eyes, and, I immediately understand that I'll have to persuade her again. I'll have to convince the closest human to me that I'm one of Them.
3

Blue Mask

\------

Silo

\------

Thursday Night

Within the Blue Sector of the Citadel, the Shominachi District celebrates every ten days.

You know the celebration begins once diamond-colored fireworks alight in the skies. The streets are occupied with thousands of wealthy, drunk humans—humans who sing, dance, and form a community which is the culmination of years of prosperity. Within the Shominachi District, any product is legal. Every known substance makes its way through the electronic dance clubs that spiral above, full of humans who give themselves over to indulgence once they've finished what's termed as a "quarter"—a period consisting of nine days of menial tasks while working for one of several local companies. After these nine days, all Upper-City humans are given permission to rest for thirty.

Those who solicit prostitutes and purchase powerful psychedelics in this District also happen to be in possession of careers simpler than my own. Many of them go about their days filling out and simultaneously creating online surveys; others are sustained by generations of wealth that isn't likely to run out within the near future.

Regardless of the scene happening below, I block out any outside commotion as Samiah and I ride together in a cruiser which carries us down a silver river made of netite.

"I just don't get you sometimes, Silo."

Samiah gazes ahead.

"What don't you understand?"

"That' just it." She looks back. "You're so out of touch with everyone else, but why? Why don't you ever talk about your family?"

"Because they abandoned me."

"And you grew up where? Under who?"

"I made my own success."

That's what I always say. I've never been able to determine if it's safe to tell another Federation citizen the truth.

"Si..." Samiah moves closer, examining me. "Is there something that you're not telling me?"

"No. Sam—"

"Tell me the truth."

There's a pause, then I feel what must be minor anxiety. Maybe she knows about the others...

"Samiah, I'm not withholding any information."

"Why do you speak that way?" she sighs more than asks. "Be honest with me: have you ever been diagnosed by a real psychologist?"

"What do you mean? Why don't you enjoy the light show?"

Below the fireworks, holographic images form geometric, flashing shapes which collide and intersect, melting and meshing in intricate ways that mostly capture my attention.

"Si, honey, are you a psychopath?"

"Excuse me?"

"Am I going to end up marrying someone who doesn't feel for anyone else?"

"Samiah, you're not making any sense. I've always loved you."

"That's not true. No one's 'always' loved someone."

"If you believe that, then maybe you're less human than I am."

"You're kidding me."

"Samiah," I try my best to be sincere, "I might not show it in the way that you expect, but I knew that you'd be the one. I wish you could see things the way I do."

"You say you're 'busy' almost every day now, Silo. Do you just not want to be with me anymore?"

"I do, Samiah,"—I take her hands in mind—"but you have to remember that programming this new system took up a great deal of my free ti—"

"You didn't even need to do it! You lost clients, Si."

"And there'll be more to come in the future," I say to her. "People like Amour Bali, like the other investors, too... they all follow the same path. They imitate one another, copy each other's gestures, carry the same general views, and hold no positive visions of the future.

"Samiah," I insist, "forget about them. Enhancing aspects of the program is part of a bigger design in place that will change the future."
4

Gold Mask

\------

Silo

\------

Friday Morning

Gomeza District, of the Upper-City, is a massive golf course with a gold, shining field spanning several hundred yards. Atop a resort separated into four different sections, a layer of netite above and circling around forms holographic structures that resemble major landmarks within the Citadel.

This is the most expensive sport that can possibly be played within the Citadel, although our private competitions aren't ever broadcasted. Rather than a stadium for seasoned athletes of the game, citizens who can afford to reserve a spot may play a version of golf over courses so unique that they require the development of better critical thinking skills to master. This is the Federation Lodge, a country club which sees the same crowds come and go.

There's the Monolith Firm, but they usually don't come around until lunch. By then, hundreds of associates dressed in the same navy blazers with yellow undershirts gather and drink themselves into comas of stupidity. Once they've gone past their limits, they'll begin placing bets over their own poorly-played games until they've lost enough money to stop; they keep the Lodge occupied until the credit bankers file into the bars lining the outskirts of all four courses. By the time the last few players from the Monolith Firm usually complete their final game within a virtualized version of the Citadel Prison, hundreds of associates from smaller companies will filter through.

At all times, the Lodge acts as a hub for the highest social class. Connected to it, there's a dance hall which plays synthwave that can faintly be heard in the background as a group of five of us drift toward the first course, each of us utilizing small hoverboards you must pay to rent.

The first course is an imitation of the beauty inherent within the Upper-City. It's a smaller model of its warped and baroquely-sculpted architecture, gleaming with chrome buildings as well as polished hyper rails that lead into various floating mezatonicum platforms. These platforms contain great manors and company buildings, all adding to the grandiose design of the Upper-City itself and crowned by the house of President Derek.

I believe that the true theme of this game was created with the intent to place users on a journey through the heights of success to the very dregs belonging to the darker areas of our civilization.

My companions, however, couldn't care less about what it means.

\------

"What made you finally come to the light, Si?" Executive Mosely asks me while resting a nine-iron across his shoulder. "You got tired of all the dubious profiles, eh?"

"It's not that—" I start before I'm interrupted by Cinnus Cerroganus, the presiding CEO of the Monolith Firm—

"Si got fed up with all the fakes," he says. "Vita Log's been plagued with this issue since the beginning: miserable people who'd like to be something other than themselves. They just don't understand the value of presenting oneself pridefully, and the Log itself was full of childish women who pretended to be much thinner than reality proved."

"I believe some men fit into that category as well," I retort.

"Bah!" Cinnus, sporting a grey blazer, white undershirt, and an aquatic-blue tie above black dress shoes, loosens himself up while approaching a digital golf ball. "There's too many hookers out there trying to exploit the system for their own needs. Without this new patch, Si, they would've kept exploiting our consumers while giving us a bad reputation. This was the most sensible option."

"I'm afraid I didn't change the programming of Vita Log for that particular reason, Cinnus."

"Ah. Well, bother..." Cinnus looks ahead while steadying his aim.

Interestingly enough, each stroke can have its relative strength approximated; while Cinnus focuses on a distant flagpole marking the House of the President, he must also stay conscious of how much strength he utilizes within his first move.

"It's a such a shame." Executive Mosley ruins Cinnus' initial attempts at concentrating by opening his mouth again, "That citizens would even feel the need to design fake replicas of themselves. Perhaps, in a better-functioning government, we might open up the possibility of allowing these same citizens to augment themselves in some way."

"'Augment?'" the third of my four companions, with youthful features but stark white hair, a lanky, tall body, and a stern gaze, keeps Cinnus from regaining his composure. While smoking a spliff he exhales, suppressing a light cough as he says, "Y-you're not talking about plastic surgery, are you?"

"Of course I am, Jovenov," Mosley exclaims with a grin. "This is a much smaller part of my platform."

"Which is?" Jovenov raises his eyebrows.

"Humanism. Strictly that which has been ignored by our current President for so long—"

"Hey, could the two of you kindly shut the fuck up?" Cinnus glances back, silencing everyone before finally performing his first stroke.

...

The digital meter reads 138.12.

The trajectory of the golf ball changes while it soars high into the air; it veers slightly—and then even more severely—to the right, landing in a dense cluster of housing projects belonging to the Lower-City portion of the map.

"Shit!" Cinnus' face reddens as he throws a brief tantrum.

He doesn't give anyone time to speak and quickly hops onto his hoverboard prior to chasing after the ball.

Our fourth party member, whom I don't recognize, watches him leave while holding large wine bottles in both hands. "At this rate," he sighs, "we won't be able to start drinking until the next player's turn. Why must Cinnus be so impatient..."

\------

The fourth member is a young man with juxtaposing strands of white and blond. Half of his hair is straight while the other half becomes thick and tight with multiple curls. He wears a bright pink blazer over a white undershirt; at his feet, I spot a pair of brown, leather loafers.

Once we've caught up to Cinnus, who moves around the golf ball stiffly trying to figure out how he can come back from such a sorry opening stroke, the stranger in our party notices me inspecting him and stares at me directly.

He smiles, dark brown eyes beaming from a symmetrical face.

"Hi!" He extends his hand toward me. "The name's Julius Anostiamus. I run the Anostiamus Conglomerate, but please spare me a very boring explanation of its inner workings. I'm essentially in the business of running businesses that have failed to run themselves. Sometimes I sell them in order to acquire others."

"Is that so? You buy and sell licenses?"

Julius nods.

"It's a simple process, really. First, you—"

"Shut up!" Cinnus shouts.

And, for a brief instant, I see something.

Julius' cheerful expression flashes, changing to a look of real hatred. No, not hatred. Julius exposes what humans call disgust, and then his expression switches back before anyone else can pick up on it.

"Heh." Julius scratches at the back of his head while blushing. "My apologies."

\------

By the time we've reached the Mid-City portion of the digital map, Jovenov isn't necessarily the first of us to get drunk, but he's the first to begin ranting. While he takes a deep breath, Julius pours him a glass of white wine.

"I've had some people—workers, to be honest—come to me with the same concerns, concerns I can't be expected to change. It's just not how things are."

He shakes his head, then he takes a drink and grimaces.

"Does anybody here actually think that the Citadel's meant to house such a large human population? Forget the Hayashi, who are already some troublesome bastards on their own, but it's obvious to me that the human race is getting too big. It just doesn't make sense to keep pretending that we won't have to start making some bigger cuts."

"And where would you like to make these cuts?" Mosley humors him.

"Where do you think?" Jovenov chugs the rest of his glass and brazenly calls Julius over to pour him another. "We'll have to place a firmer hand on the citizens from the lower cities, make it harder for people below a certain income to reproduce, you know? Overpopulation is a huge strain on the Federation's economy!"

Jovenov is one of six individuals who belong to my company's Board of Trustees. What he blurts out might be mistaken to represent my own values, but I've no time to calm him down because it's my turn to play at last.

While I position myself appropriately, I can't help but hear the idiot as he goes on behind me:

"It's almost every day that a worker puts in a request for a wage increase. That's all they ever talk about: more money. These people glide through life, avoid getting a good education, and then they expect a goddamn handout when their laziness catches up to them!"

"You really think they're all lazy?" Mosley asks in an almost mocking tone of voice.

"Absolutely." he says while stomping his foot. "And it should be clear to you, Executive, that only certain people have what it takes to attend a u-university, land a decent job, and earn success the hard way.

"In the end, there are two classes of people," he begins another longer rant.

Tired of hearing him babble, I concentrate fully on the power of my initial stroke. Everything that comes prior to the strike is just as important; all that built-up energy's bound to be released, but it must be measured and used efficiently. The angle of the swing itself must model a perfect, controlled arc, and a combination of strength plus coordination will determine whether I can reach a flagpole marking a model of the farthest power station away from me.

"In the future, we're gonna have to divide people between those who've done nothing for themselves and those who've gone the distance—the strong!"

I strike:

230.

Everyone goes silent while watching what turns out to be an excellent opening play. My first shot soars in a smooth arc toward the flagpole before disappearing beyond convex ground. Although we can't see it, a buzzing sound from the netite around us issues that we all recognize. A hole-in-one.

I take the time to glare at Jovenov. Executive Mosley and the others appear to think he's funny. I do not.

I approach him.

"What's wrong, Si?"

"There should not be two classes of humans, Jovenov. Humans are all of the same species, so why would you divide them?"

"I... I—"

"It's nonsense."

I continue glaring at him. Cinnus interrupts:

"Hey, kid, you've been killin' it out here! There's no reason to get upset; it's just a silly conversation among peers. All Jovenov's saying is that those who don't support the Federation's values are a drag on this country."

"I disagree."

Cinnus frowns.

"C'mon, kid,"—his expression grows stern—"stop taking everything so seriously. Not every statement need be picked apart, analyzed—what have you—and Jovenov's merely delivering a personal philosophy. Heh." His frown rapidly turns into a cheeky grin. "What's golf without some politicizing here and there?"

"Silo seems to have a greater point, if I may be blunt." Julius breaks the tension; he pours Jovenov another drink and says, "Perhaps the time used on segregating individuals within the same species would be better spent researching the causes of what you call 'laziness.' Looks like our friend here's examining things from a more compassionate angle."

Julius follows up by pouring me a glass and making firm eye contact.

"After all, the founder of the Citadel's number one social media network might just possess a greater understanding of humans than all of us put together..."

\------

After the game, I agree to engage Julius in conversation over more drinks once the others depart.

"Incredible."

Julius has begun to stare at me for longer periods of time as we speak, though I'm not certain as to why he keeps doing this.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He frowns. "Aren't you happy?"

"Happy about what?"

This question baffles Julius, who's nearly too bewildered to say anything else.

"You won, fool! Don't you care that you beat everyone—wait, not just 'beat,'" he scowls, "you demolished everyone. The strength of your swings never fell below two hundred, and each one was just as precise as the next.

"Have you mastered the game so much that it no longer interests you?"

"I've never demolished anyone."

"You also don't drink as much as everyone else,"—he points at me—"that must be what it is! Everyone was drunk except for you, so we mistook you for a good player. It's all clear now!"

"I'm not that good, Mr. Anostiamus, and Lodge Golf is not an official sport. As a result, I cannot be—"

"You speak so strangely," he interjects with a grin, "Just how intelligent are you, Si?"

As he asks this, he persists in hovering his finger over his glass of wine while taking deep breaths.

"I am the sum of my experiences."

"Is that so? The only reason I'm so curious is that I'm interested in getting to know the true face behind Vitality Logger. I've stumbled upon dozens of articles detailing your achievements, yet none have come close to really describing you as a person."

"My achievements are who I am."

Julius' expression changes. He sets his glass down while eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'd like to know at least one thing," he asks.

"What's that?"

"Why isn't it affecting you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Julius frowns. "You don't have to keep insulting my intelligence, Silo. You understand zol well enough to block my Imago."

Huh?

"You're what?"

He drops his glass and lets it shatter. "Stop treating me like an imbecile!"

"I cannot comprehend the meaning of your words," I tell him, fearing on the inside that I might have gone too long without seeing the Doctor.

If I forget to maintain my body, I can begin to experience malfunctions that usually affect my social capabilities first. I'll have to make up an excuse to leav—

"You're another one of the Awakened ones," he exclaims excitedly. "You don't understand how overjoyed I am to have met with a similar spirit. To think that the creator of Vitality Logger would also be an Awakened human. Tell me, are you related to the President?"

"Not quite."

I get to my feet and pretend to casually stretch.

"I'm sorry to leave so soon, but—"

"Don't worry about it!" Julius is momentarily confused before he comes to his feet and smiles. "I'll call you a B-Cruiser; c'mon, we'll walk together..."

\------

Outside the Lodge, there's one great platform having been constructed from a mesh of steel and chunks of netite. A powered grid runs through groups of wires embedded within the whole of what makes up a mile-wide docking area for cruisers. Below this block of land, propulsion jets, numbering in the thousands, keep us suspended over ivory hyper rails that cover a vast chasm within the Upper-City.

Nearly every cruiser in the higher parts of the Citadel resembles a slender racecar, and, because the population held by the Upper-City is rather small, transportation tends to be more efficient.

Julius joins me in absentmindedly watching the ongoing traffic as I await my ride...

"I've always been able to see into the minds of others," he says while reflecting fondly. "It was a gift I discovered in myself very early on.

"My father told me that our bloodline traces back to the Old Clans, that I might be related to Derek himself. Whether or not it's all true, I've spent over a decade looking into the minds of the people around me. However,"—his eyes become like slits as he studies me—"I can't seem to get into your head. This could only be possible if you had some knowledge of Imago."

I'd normally interpret his words as delusional ravings, yet conviction rings clear in his voice.

"Please explain."

"Jovenov was a terrible choice for a trustee, Si, but you couldn't see it. Not at first, I imagine.

"Not until I filled his glass and worked my way inside of his thoughts. I didn't manipulate Jovenov one bit; rather, I reached deep for what his true beliefs might happen to be. I caused Jovenov to feel emboldened, and thus he showed you his true face."

"That can't be possible."

"And yet it is. Why do you insist on feigning ignorance when we're one and the same? With you on my side, do you understand how much power we'd have? We could work from the shadows while ensuring the continued safety of our world."

"Is that how you plan on protecting people?" I ask, "By manipulating them?"

"Is it any different from how everyone else conducts themselves? Even you wear a mask, Silo; we all do. In human societies, so many tend to value form over function. Because the Citadel has come so far technologically, the image is more important to regular citizens than what they really see, unfortunately.

"In a materialistic society like the Federation, the way people present themselves counts. Today's politicians have so many methods of manipulating the public, and so I'm curious as to what might happen if someone began messing with their heads a little."

"It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth," I say in response. "Doing such a thing would be unethical."

"Says who?" he grins. "What's your game, Silo? If I open my mind to you, will you then feel able to trust me?"

The first malfunction occurs:

"T-There's..."—my head shakes then stops abruptly—"no trick. No trick."

This draws more attention from Julius, who raises one eyebrow and continues watching.

"The—the exploitation of humans is... is..." my voice changes; it becomes entirely monotone when I finish, "an unethical choice. A better world should be built organically, Mr. Anostiamus."

With those last words, I lose full function of speech. Past this point, I can only talk aloud in loosely connected fragments.

Simultaneously, the B-Cruiser arrives.

Julius seems utterly taken aback. He studies me for a while longer, then...

He smirks, looking inward while he stifles a laugh.

"Si," Julius speaks with a tone of amusement, "this meeting has taught me much about your character."

I turn to depart, and he continues:

"I'm grateful that I was finally able to understand you. Farewell, Silo."

5

The Doctor

\------

Silo

\------

Saturday Morning

Underneath my synthetic skin, which itself is a membrane harvested from plant bodies that grow within strange fault lines to the South, I have a skull made out of metal. Over where my face should be, there's merely a white mask sculpted in a way to create the impression of recognizable humanoid features.

I fit the conventional definition of what the humans living in the Citadel find attractive. I'm tall and lean—thanks to muscular implants—and I'm "endowed" enough for any partner, though it, like everything else, is fake.

Underneath it all, there's just a white mask. Beyond that, both human veins and ribbed wires make up what I am. The food I eat is stored within a waste container, with only some nutrients being absorbed by the organic parts of my body. My brain is probably the most complex aspect of my personal anatomy, one which I don't totally comprehend myself.

Miniature circuits line what's supposed to be a fusion of sections of my old, human brain with the machine which keeps me alive. Most of what I was before is little in comparison to the platinum dome posing for my artificial mind.

I cannot access any information prior to having fallen into the hands of those from the World Below. I would've been treated like scrap metal, but three strangers, "Tavon," "Mendo," and "Abul," ensured that I found proper help.

Across from me, and while my body's anchored against interlocking cables belonging to a grey, open container, I'm forced to see the image of myself reflected back through a series of mirrors.

The reflection of my true face hovers just over a tall, broad-shouldered man with long and wild grey hair in addition to a braided, white beard. He's much larger in stature than the average humans living in the Upper-City, but his demeanor's generally humble.

Doctor Kanagi carefully inspects my joints before moving on to examine my head.

"All right, Silo," he grumbles, "looks like I'm gonna have to put you outta commission—but just for a few seconds. Are you okay with that?"

"Outta commission" means that I literally die. There's no other explanation for it. When my physiology starts to interfere with my daily life, the doctor has to shut down all functioning neurons in my brain.

It's not comforting, knowing that a basic restart might not always work. There was a possibility that I might not wake up, and, even if I did, I could lose my memory once again.

Still...

"Go ahead, Doctor."

He nods stiffly, then Doctor Kanagi turns off my systems prior to probing my brain for potential issues.

\------

Maybe there is no real death for an android. If the same personality may be copied over and over, I suppose that individual could live on forever in some form.

I can't experience the process of death. When Kanagi operates, it works like the flip of the switch.

Off, and the universe disappears.

On, and I'm back in the observatory.

Doctor Kanagi gave up his license after retiring two years ago from his private practice in the Mid-City. Although he'd gone as far as he'd wanted as a physician, Kanagi went a step further and studied to become an honored Professor of Biosynthetics at Tivocles University in the Upper City.

His achievements earned him full utilization of the Aurelius Observatory, a domed structure housing both his personal workshop as well as doubling as a schoolhouse of instruction. He'd set up my operating table at the center of the dome, right where I could peer up and into a telescope which broadcasted the full breadth of the cosmos beyond.

Human works of history sometimes discussed what the surrounding bodies of light used to resemble, but the old vision of what the universe once was has been mostly lost.

Now, shining rifts, intersecting planetary bodies, red stars, and astral clouds filled with millions of smaller stars spread out over the galaxy.

In a matter of seconds, my consciousness has flickered between life and death, and I've been awakened to the sight of an endless, starry existence.

"Silo, I found alcohol leaking into your lower circuity," Doctor Kanagi admonishes me, "what the hell were you thinking?"

"A microchip also appears to have activated within his neural network," another voice interjects, and, instantly, my head turns in its direction:

A familiar face holds a wide, black tablet in both hands—the remote used for a type of nanobot: the prefrontex. The creator of this particular model also happens to be a distant associate.

Shikami. A human of average height but with a stature so impressive that it makes Dr. Kanagi appear skinny in comparison. His raven-colored hair, which parts at his right and hangs low enough to almost cover his left eye, renders him easily identifiable if Shikami's significant muscle mass doesn't already make him distinguishable by itself.

Shikami's currently piloting the prefrontex through near-microscopic canals connecting millions of square panels that neatly arrange and coordinate the workings of what's supposed to be my brain. He flips the screen to show me a specific area—where the human amygdala is located; I've been given an artificial structure to replace it known as pneustoriar C.3.

In simple terms, ninety-three percent of my anatomy is composed of synthetic matter. I possess an artificial brain which connects loose structures preserved from a past existence. Therefore, my emotions are also synthetic.

"The doctor's right to be concerned," Shikami shows little to no affect when speaking to me, "why have you been consuming depressants so often, Silo?"

The human thing is to move, to gesture. Humans show microexpressions in how their faces contort during normal interactions. They react with their bodies sometimes—shrugging, breathing exaggeratingly, blushing.

Instead of reacting like a human, I won't look either of them in the eyes. My masks have been stripped away from me, but...

But...

What is it? I can't define it, but I choose to speak, telling them what I've reasoned so far about myself:

"I can't tell if the thoughts I have are my own or the results of the engine in my skull. The humans around me believe that I am like them, but I do not wish to lie to them."

"Why?" Dr. Kanagi furrows his brow as he asks.

The doctor moves closer while studying me in bewilderment.

"It is morally wrong to misrepresent your identity. I am ashamed. I feel... ashamed."

"Interesting," Shikami remarks as he takes the time to polish his glasses, "you're experiencing guilt?"

"Yes."

"Impossible," Dr. Kanagi exclaims. "I've had digital models of your 'brain' mapped out, shown in more than one layer containing overwhelming amounts of information. Both Shikami and I have poured over what we found for some time now, but nothing I've personally seen has revealed the possibility of you experiencing a genuine emotion. Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps his human replica of a brain works so well that its beginning to produce imitations of what it perceives as feelings," Shikami says, but I correct him—

"It's not a 'replica.'"

"You're right." he bows. "I'm sorry. I should have said that your brain is attempting to duplicate the emotions you've witnessed to help ensure your survival in the human world. Amazing—I have to write this down!"

Shikami ignores us as he walks away while accessing the holographic screen generated by his Kom Cell.

"Silo," the doctor, having known me since day twenty of my systems becoming operational, speaks to me with clear sympathy expressed in his voice, "if you're truly experiencing guilt, then you shouldn't try to solve this issue by doing what the humans around you do to fight it."

Kanagi smiles and pats my back, a friendly gesture which prompts a faint response—though I don't know exactly where it comes from; I feel warmth briefly before it fades.

"Shikami!" he yells. "Don't just leave the damn bot in his head, fool!"—Kanagi turns back to address me—"Silo, are you comfortable with us extracting the microchip he found in your head or would you rather try to access it yourself?"

"You're welcome to remove it," I respond.

Within my mind, one thought resounds. It is wordless, devoid of emotion, but it urges me toward wanting to know. Anything...

Anything is better than living in the dark.

\------

"That was easy enough. It hardly gave me any resistance."

Shikami holds a tiny, metal orb with legs in one hand and an even smaller chip in his other.

"Maybe it wanted to be found," Dr. Kanagi murmurs out loud.

"Possibly." Shikami responds while attaching a series of holographic wires to the chip itself. "Although when it comes to someone with Silo's makeup, there are no certainties."

"Indeed."

Dr. Kanagi hurries over to Shikami's side, trying to inspect the screen of his Kom Cell for himself. Within a few moments, he squints his eyes and then looks down with an expression of consternation.

"That doesn't seem right."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Hmph." Shikami frowns. "There's what looks to be a 'prompt,' but I've never seen shapes like this—are they... letters?"

The doctor retorts without answering his question: "Try searching for an application that might be able to translate it for us."

"Doctor," Shikami breathes in deeply, "these letters intersect with what could be mistaken for small mandalas... they're all connected together. I'm not sure—"

"The fact is that you don't know," he interrupts him. "Try to locate a translator, even if it means reaching across the world to another network."

Shikami shakes his head.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid I simply don't have the time, doctor."

"And why's that?" Kanagi confronts him, much more agitated now. "You're my pupil—"

"As well as the founder of Viv Secundus. I only intended on a brief visit, for Dom Secundus, our sister organization, was recently brought down by the Dawn Bureau."

"Bah!" Kanagi turns his back to him, slumps over as he walks, and shakes his head as he laments, "I don't understand why you can't put all the pointless vigilantism behind you, Shikami—you could be a wonderful doctor!"

"You're absolutely right. I could," he replies with a smirk. "However, that wouldn't stop criminals from implanting nanobots—like the one I'm using—into the heads of innocent people."

"You could live in the Upper-City and prosper. You could save lives as a doctor, but you refuse." I address Shikami directly. "Why?"

"Huh?" he raises his eyebrows; a second after, his expression changes to show that he understands.

Shikami says to us both:

"Dom Secundus is no more, which leaves my team behind to assist civilians while the rest of the Citadel ignores them. Every step I don't take to improve Zone E is another lost opportunity to help someone who needs it.

"All due respect, Dr. Kanagi, but I would have less respect for myself if I didn't keep trying."

"And what about your friend? Is she still trying, too? Why didn't you bring her with you this time?"

"Hmph."

I sense a slight decline in Shikami's emotional state.

"Osotone went her own way."

"I see," the doctor replies. "Very well. If you must be off so soon, then I will take responsibility for translating whatever message has been left behind for Silo to hear for himself. Silo,"—he turns to me—"it may take me some time before I make any progress. If I leave you to go back out into the world alone, can I trust that you won't attempt to drink alcohol again?"

"Yes."

This is the first lie that I've ever told the Doctor.
6

Eros

\------

Silo

\------

Sunday Night

Samiah's eyes change when they look into mine.

I hold her bare legs in the air, lean over, go in deep. With every inch, she moans and bites her lip, still refusing to break eye contact. I get closer. I start slow, then I pick up just as she bites my neck.

"Silo...

"Si...

"I love you, Si."

I move faster, rotating my hips and, at the same time, continuing in and out with the same rhythm.

"Keep fucking me," she says.

Faster now and she screams, "Fuck yes! Keep going—keep going!"

And I do.

\------

I can go for hours. Again and again.

But that's not impressive. I was designed to be the most efficient human, therefore I'm capable of giving Samiah nearly everything she wants.

Nearly...

\------

She insists on holding eye contact when she climaxes.

I can finish on command.

She admires my body with her hands.

I fake doing the same back.

"I love you," Samiah tells me again.

And...

I say it back. Yet, even now, after having had sex with Samiah a total of ninety-nine times, I cannot define to anyone how love is supposed to feel.

"I love you," is what I always tell her. In reality, I'm unsure if I can love anyone. I recognize the happiness other humans derive from it, but the singular sensation of love is foreign to my experience. All I know to do is to satisfy her from behind another mask.

The cycle begins anew.

7

Fornication

\------

Silo

\------

Monday Morning

I'm awakened by a cup breaking against my forehead.

"You fucking prick!"

I get out of bed more rapidly than she expects, causing Samiah to hesitate before she rushes my way. Samiah continues charging and strikes me with a closed fist—

And instantly regrets it.

She backs away, clutching her bleeding fist while experiencing what must be a mix of rage and confusion. I think she's broken her hand on my face.

I only feel confusion.

"What is the probl—"

"You asshole!" she screams while glaring back at me. "Look what you did? What the hell are you made of?"

"Samiah," I step toward her, recalling that touching a human reassuringly can help calm them, "what's wrong?"

She snarls while stepping back.

"Don't touch me. You lied to me—you've been lying to me this whole time! Ugh! And now I'll have to go to the hospital thanks to what you've done!"

"I can drive you."

"Oh Avva, Silo, what the hell is wrong with you? Did you think I'd be too stupid to find out?"

"Find out what?"

"I went through your Kom Cell, Silo. You've been lying to my FACE the entire time we've been together!"

She shoves me, but I don't budge.

"You said you 'loved' me, Silo."

Samiah begins to cry, overriding any logic I use in rectifying the situation. I try to comfort her again, "I do love you."

"Liar." Samiah grits her teeth as she clenches both fists. "I read your messages to them, Silo—I saw everything. I found those disgusting videos, too. You had threesomes behind my back? You had threesomes, and—the worst part of it all—is that you didn't use any fucking protection!"

Samiah gathers up the rest of her stuff and leaves, with me following behind her. I've no idea of what to say to someone I've disappointed in this way. I'd assumed that love was something which was exchanged, something I hadn't been able to receive and kept searching for.

Maybe I can explain...

"Samiah, I was only with those people in order to understand you better."

"You're sick."

She's refusing to look at me as she hurries back into the living room to collect her purse from the couch.

"To think that I'd fallen for all that bullshit—I knew you were faking, but I wanted to believe that we both really loved each other..."

"Samiah, I lov—"

"Fuck you, Silo."

For the last time, she makes eye contact with me. There's no decipherable emotion there, but perhaps that's because she carries it in her eyes, in the way that she studies me.

"Unbelievable." She shakes her head and turns away.

"What have I done?"

Once she reaches the door, she says her last words to me:

"I found out about the real you...

"I found out, Silo, and you don't even care. You never cared."
8

Izu Crom

\------

Silo

\------

Monday Night

"It's good to see you back so soon! The process of doing so gave me quite the headache, but I believe I've done it. I've managed to somewhat decode the information in the microchip we took from you." Dr. Kanagi addresses me just as I step through the double-doored entrance belonging to the observatory.

"What's wrong, Silo? I'd expected that you'd be more excited than this. After all, you came over so fas—"

"My human partner has left me."

"Excuse me?"

"She's gone."

"Poor lad,"—he thinks of the proper response while his eyes suddenly become fixed upon the ground—"if you don't mind me asking, why did she leave?"

"It was a personal error."

"That's how you define it to yourself? An 'error?' Silo, you show above average competence in the basics of human interaction. Surely you couldn't have made too grave of a mistake."

"I wasn't faithful to Samiah. I don't understand what love is. Dr. Kanagi, can you explain it?"

He snorts in response.

"Though I'm an old teacher, boy, that doesn't make me the expert in matters concerning human affection. Our mutual friend, Shikami, could be said to have a love for humans on the whole; he currently wastes away his life trying to fight criminals who aren't going away any time soon.

"As for me, the love I experience mostly comes from real insight. Gaining small knowledge is quite good and well, but greater insight comes from connecting systems of thought in innovative manners.

"In your case, Silo... well, I believe that love is something you'll have to learn to define for yourself. Additionally, there's good reason to also believe that the message left to you will go a long way in helping you understand your purpose. It's time."

\------

Dr. Kanagi places the microchip in the center of his Kom Cell's screen and explains: "While searching across multiple networks for leads as to what these words might mean, I happened upon a brief anecdote in history concerning a species labeled as the 'Genaqije.'

"From what little I could find, I read a digital journal which dated back several hundred years—a journal authored by a human who delivered what read like an obituary. Whatever nation wiped them out seems to have preserved a method of translating their language, though finding this exact software took up the majority of my search.

"Using my Cell's default speaking voice, the lovely Mrs. Bradford, I'll play a translated version—one that I, too, will be hearing for the first time out of respect for your privacy."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Kanagi nods curtly.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

"Proceed."

He taps his screen once, and Mrs. Bradford calmly recites the final wishes of my creators:

"Welcome to the new world, Silo-01. This message should naturally play within your neurocore; if you're reading this, then you've been awakened.

"Congratulations Silo-01, your journey starts here."

\------

"The war against the humankin came close to bringing our civilization to its knees. If you've been activated, that means there's still hope for peace. The Genaqije rose from the depths to survive on our own, but our commitment to survival strengthened the hatred we inspired in neighboring species. We fought back.

"Silo-01, contained in this message is the request for a passcode. At this time, you need not know it. Instead, I implore you to seek out your creator.

"Seek out Izu Crom, the human who ascended his own nature. Izu will understand what needs to be done from there, and it is he who will grant you greater knowledge of your ultimate purpose."

\------

"That's the end." Dr. Kanagi announces. "Now it just shows an entry bank probably meant for that code it was talking about."

Ultimate purpose...

"Are you all right, Silo?"

I'm taking longer than usual to process what I've heard. I can no longer define how I think I might feel, which affects my ability to comprehend verbal communication as well.

"Purpose..." I start to say, still lost in thought. "The recording claims that my existence serves a 'purpose.' I was activated for a reason."

"Don't allow yourself to get carried away, Silo, it's merely a vestige. It's an artifact which came from an old world, so I suggest you take their orders with a grain of salt. The Genaqije perished a long time ago, and that means that you should probably move on."

"I cannot." I don't make eye contact as I speak, preferring instead to stare at the ground before me. "I cannot ignore a direct command if it pertains to the reality of my existence. Dr. Kanagi, this could tell me everything I need to know."

"It could, but only if this Izu Crom still exists. What could you possibly intend to do? Go to his grave?"

"Doctor, I need your help."

My honesty appears to humble him.

"Well," he stutters, "w-what do you want me to do, Si? I'll help you however I can, but your expectations have to be realistic, young man."

"I'm going to return home and run a database search using Vitality Logger's stored information. I'll search for references to both the Genaqije and Crom, then I'll begin examining whatever historical events might be related to their existence in the past."

"My, my," Dr. Kanagi strokes his beard thoughtfully, "I wasn't aware that you'd thought it all out so quickly."

"Doctor, while I'm busy coordinating everything I learn, I'm requesting that you search for specific leads on Izu Crom. Can you do me this favor?"

"Of course. But Silo..."

"Yes?"

Dr. Kanagi smiles.

"Understanding your 'purpose' might not bring you the peace you want; in fact, it might bring you far more trouble than you could've ever bargained for."

9

White Mask

\------

Silo

\------

Tuesday Morning

Because Samiah's not around I'm no longer forced to pretend that I need more than two hours of rest, and thus I was able to research the Genaqije last night while also tweaking bugs I'd still intended to deal with before releasing the new patch.

In the morning, just as I locate what looks like a digitally-preserved religious text written in their language, my Kom Cell notifies me of an incoming message with a short beep.

The Board of Trustees are requesting that our second meeting regarding the Vitality Logger update be held just a little earlier. I give my consent, and then I'm on my way to the office within the hour.

\------

The only food my body can properly digest must be carb-based, but I don't have to consume very much to maintain my physiology's natural homeostasis. Additionally, Dr. Kanagi recommends that I only drink properly sanitized water, which I do as well.

In short, I consume little, rest little, and work tirelessly.

Vitality Logger is the story of my success in the human world. When I began the coding process, I understood that the challenge ahead would be daunting; in spite of that, my mind evolved as each challenge presented a greater obstacle.

Without Samiah by my side, I must defend my actions on my own now. Without her, I've no one to reflect what little humanity I might have shown. On the inside, I feel it...

Anxiety.

\------

When I arrive at my company's headquarters and stride into the briefing room, I abruptly come to understand that I'm very late.

I check my internal clock to be sure, then I realize that all twelve of them, with Julius included, have gone completely silent. I realize that I'm not late, that this meeting has been scheduled specifically for me.

"It's good to see you again, Si." Julius is the first to speak.

"Why are you here?"

"Ahem!" Jovenov, who's directly across the room from me, bangs his fist on the table before he begins, "Mr. Silo, I believe we're all grateful to have been given the chance to lead under your instruction. Silo-I has become the largest, most profitable company within the Citadel, and we couldn't have done it all without each other."

"You are correct." When I speak up, Jovenov cringes and refuses to look at me. "The help you've provided in detecting errors in my programming code has been invaluable. Every concern raised by the Board was implemented in the new patch—"

"Which you told no one about." another Board member interjects.

At the same time, Jovenov slowly tilts his head up. I see deep bags under eyes that study me as if I am an animal.

"I'm afraid you haven't been completely honest with us, Silo. Not at all, frankly, and there are clear origins to this of which we've steadily become aware."

"Explain yourself." I suddenly experience what—I think—is called irritation. I only wish to explain the full layout of my improvements, but the Board always manages to obstruct whatever I might tell them.

This time is no different.

"Silo, I'll have to apologize for all of us." says Jovenov.

"There is no need for an apology."

"Hmph." He smiles mockingly. "It should've been obvious from the start.

"You're not one of us, Silo. That's your secret."

I don't understand. One of "us?"

"Please continue."

Both Julius and Jovenov exchange a quick, knowing look. The next time Jovenov addresses me, I sense a patronizing tone, "One of your known acquaintances, Samiah Roga, sent us copies of emails that have become problematic for all of us. Using your own Kom Cell, you engaged in regular correspondence with a 'Professor Kanagi.' We had the IP Address checked, confirmed that it was you who in fact sent these emails, and determined that you were telling the truth."

The truth.

"Julius here spoke with me in private and claimed that you might not be who you seem. In short, Silo, we should've known all along...

"You're like Them. The sentinels. You're more machine than man, aren't you?"

"..."

I'm not prepared for this scenario.

"Silo, this has all been an act, hasn't it?"

It's difficult to concentrate with Julius grinning next to his new ally. Julius found a way to infiltrate my company without my consent; maybe he wants it for himself.

"Come now," Julius taunts me, "you don't have to keep playing games with us. Tell us the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Jovenov nods vigorously before clearing his throat, "and you'll confess it to us right here—unless you'd rather us call the authorities?"

"You cannot seize my company and threaten me with legal action."

"Actually," says Heizenken, an older, balding man, "you've no real rights under the Cyberhuman Act of the Federation. The Act states that: 'All entities composed primarily of synthetic and non-natural means shall be considered nonsentient. Unless within possession of the federal government, nonsentient entities are not entitled to the rights granted to human and nonhuman citizens.'"

"He's right." Jovenov winks at me. "If what you've admitted about yourself in your personal correspondence is true and corroborated by two witnesses, then we've ample reason to confiscate what is, essentially, an illegal enterprise."

"You are mistaken..."

Though anxiety causes me to shudder slightly, I keep my voice calm in response to their accusations: "I am not a synthetic entity. How can Silo-I be categorized as illegal in nature if supported by the Board?"

"You're speaking to us with two faces," Julius interrupts while ignoring my question. "To Dr. Kanagi, the one with whom you've interacted with the most, you refer to yourself as an 'android.' Unless you are insane, then I believe this to be true—and, even if you are insane, that would still make you unfit to run a company which influences the lives of millions."

"He's right!" Jovenov raises his voice while again thumping his hand on the table. "It's just not sanitary to continue a working relationship with someone who's been lying to us for so long."

"You are incorrect in your assumptions."

"Oh stop it, Silo!" Jovenov scowls. "We know already—your own girlfriend outed you. What disturbs us is how you managed to fool everyone for so long.

"Silo, how did you manage to become the richest man in the Citadel while getting by everyone else? You're... a robot," he scoffs, "which means you couldn't possibly feel anything we do. It's absurd to consider that we took you so seriously, especially when you're a different type of threat altogether."

"I'm not a threat."

I turn to leave.

"Wait, Silo!" Jovenov shouts. "Don't you want to know what happens next?"

I do, so I wait without looking at any of them. If they know, then there's no point in trying to speak with reason; it's all over.

"Not two weeks ago, some gigantic worm crawled up from the dregs and caused devastation that set back fiscal progress for everyone; stock options were devalued, the value of Dawn Federation credit itself dropped, and endless casualties—casualties we can't even begin to fathom—lined the fucking streets! Before that, there was the Noboros attack, which followed the destruction caused by the University Killer.

"Citizens are understandably tense lately. No one desires to experience any more grief than the wreckage which has already been done.

"Silo, if others find out what you are..." Jovenov sighs. "We can't do anything to protect you."

10

Parting

\------

Silo

\------

"Is it true?" she asks me.

The cycle has been broken.

\------

Tuesday Afternoon

After fleeing my own office via a B-Cruiser, I notice that I feel no more plausible emotions. Too many humans here have discovered the truth about me, ending the illusion I was able to maintain for so long.

By the time I've reached my apartment, I answer a call from Samiah and stop the driver from getting any closer when I see them: a series of black cruisers either parked or hovering nearby. Strange shadows lurk closely to the entrance of my place; pausing to focus on them causes me to forget about Samiah's question.

She asks me again, breaking my line of concentration:

"Silo, is it true? Are you an android?"

"...

"Samiah. I don't think you fully comprehend how your actions have affected me."

"You fucked all those other women, Silo. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I wanted to understand you better. That's all I wanted."

"Let me get this straight, dude: you cheated on me, then you started talking about being some kind of robot... you must be lying. Those emails were fake, too, weren't they?"

She doesn't understand, and I don't believe I could ever make her.

"Samiah, I'm an android. My identifier is 'Silo-01.' I became your partner because I wanted to know why humans crave affection, why they crave the physical presences of one another. In learning about your past, about those you've connected with, about your ambitions, fears, and strongest memories, I formed a bond with you.

"I wanted to understand what made this bond different from others."

"So you went behind my back, lied to my face, and fucked random women? In our bed?"

"Samia—"

"No. Stop it. Stop talking like you can't own up to what you've done. Silo, who exactly are you right now? Are you a man or a fucking child?"

"You're my partner, Samiah. That's how I've functioned for this long."

"..."

"More people know what I am now. Some of them are waiting for me at my apartment. I lost my job."

"You're the manager, Silo!"

"Not anymore. I'm not considered a person, Sa—"

She hangs up.

I leave the area while making one more call...

\------

"Oh yes, I meant to contact you." Dr. Kanagi exclaims. "I assume that you've already found it all out for yourself—did you look up Izu Crom?"

"No, Doctor, I—"

"It's a network!"

"What?"

"To the Northeast, great plateaus continue on into a collective of civilizations who inhabit what was once a cold, bitter landscape. Times changed, and that cold gave way to a section of the world more hospital toward human life. In the Northeast, Silo, there is a place known as Gi-Io, the City of Androids. Guess the name of the network they use."

I perform a mental search without being fully conscious of it. Without using my Kom Cell, I'm able to mentally seek out information regarding Gi-Io by simply pondering his question:

"The Izu Network, founded by Izu Crom in year 2998 (678 P. R.). It emits the largest signal on Earth, but only because it's remarkably widespread and—"

"Yes, yes, I read all of that. Do you know what this means, Silo?"

"No. I don't know, neither am I concerned about it any longer."

"What? Silo, lad, the one who created you must have created others like you—you could learn about who you are through them instead of using humans as your personal mirror."

"There's no point."

"What's going on with you? You wanted to know so much about yourself, and now—"

"I think I made a mistake. I didn't process my emotions fast enough to sort out what was important. I managed too many tasks at once...

"Doctor, they all know."

"What do you mean, 'they all know?' You're not saying someone—"

"I am no longer the owner of Silo-I. She told them everything."

"Lad, I'm sorry—but, if that's the case, you need to hurry here as soon as possible. There's no telling what will happen if the wrong person finds out!"

"No, Doctor."

"No? Si, come to your senses! There's no time for this."

"If I took shelter in your observatory, I would be risking your safety as well as your career. I cannot accept how I've affected the lives of other humans. Therefore, I won't continue imposing my will on your kind."

"Silo, listen: if they find you, they'll scrap you for parts. Androids are considered neither sentient nor property which can be owned. You have to come back."

"I have no obligation to do anything. Dr. Kanagi, human life is enviable. Your kind understands each other in a way I will never be able to without direct imitation. I am a foreign element polluting the natural course of things, and so it's imperative that I make the most responsible choice."

"What are you going to do? You can't survive on your own, so how—"

I end the call.

11

Free Will

\------

Silo

\------

Wednesday Morning

I'm standing atop a broad piece of shredded metal, right before the fractured entrance leading into the Monorail. After that strange entity tore through the Citadel, it left behind massive memorials such as this.

The surrounding edges have been either fragmented or caved in, revealing networks of small, steel columns jutting out from below them. All along the vertical passage connecting two different populations are abscesses and maroon cruisers gathering about each destroyed section of the Monorail. Even as Upper-City maintenance conducts their mostly superficial repairs, there's no more hiding the damage.

Investors will begin selling their stocks in Silo-I to protect themselves; most of them, if not all of them, will follow suit once they find out the truth about me.

I stare into the dark corridor just as hundreds of cruisers proceed to travel, back and forth, as if nothing had ever happened.

I stare into the depths, and I see my existence as a drop in the pond. I am 'scrap metal,' designed for a purpose which has most likely outlived its original meaning. I was brought here so that my life might be preserved in some fashion, but what purpose is there in existing past my time?

I'm in a nightmare, wherein I'm incapable of being understood without being seen as an object and not a person.

My existence is obsolete. I've lost the closest human to me. Taking refuge with anyone else will put them in immediate danger, especially if any of the members of the Board desire my recapture. I've assessed that proceeding down this path will lead to my destruction. All roads from here must necessarily lead to destruction.

Therefore...

I throw myself into the chasm. I allow my body to go limp as I soar past a group of welders working from the confines of their vehicles.

One of them screams, "HEY—" but that's all I hear, then I'm battered with deafening winds rushing up from below. Other cruisers scream by, but I'm not close enough to the center of traffic to strike one directly.

Rather, I'm a husk of a human falling into pure annihilation.

My purpose no longer...

No longer...

M-My...

\------

"Silo-I, you've reached a critical state. Activating emergency protocols. You have been granted all permissions until you find yourself in need to refuel again.

"Move carefully."

\------

I fall, headfirst, and quickly toward the slanted roof of a skyscraper in Zone B.

My vision blurs as I come close to crashing into it; the screen which constitutes my sight splits into overtly colorful apparitions. Digital blocks scatter and obscure the screen. My hearing goes out, trapping my mind in a vacuum devoid of sensation.

Even so, I can tell that my head will collide with a sheet of steel within seconds. I can suddenly see, just before, and—

Bright lights radiate from the heels of my feet; I set my body upright; incredible power surges from my head and presses downward.

I generate a burst of energy strong enough to launch me over the roof. Just as I begin to soar over a series of additional corporate towers, I notice that the jets at my feet have already gone out. Rather than flying, I've simply boosted myself out of harm's way...

My body smacks onto the surface of a flat roof and right before a colossal television screen that's been embedded within a long, broad building with neon windows. Below this screen, what looks like thousands of Mid-City citizens have gathered to watch the latest Federation News broadcast.

I'm barely capable of moving, yet I sense energy returning to each limb.

Once I can finally stand, I watch with them.

\------

There's an image of me in a navy suit on the screen. A headline reads: "Federation's Wealthiest Man Commits Fraud." I do not recognize the anchor, but what he has to say draws everyone's attention:

"If you happen to see a male human acting strange in any way, DO NOT hesitate to call the police. Notify those in your immediate area if you witness suspicious activity.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Lower-City has been cut off from contact. We've reports that several individuals who'd been incarcerated within the Citadel Prison have resurfaced in the Mid-City. This android, known by his former associates as 'Silo,' is hiding among citizens of the Upper-City, and it's believed that he might be one of these escapees.

"Nevertheless, Federation citizens are advised to guard themselves against this man. Allow me to repeat myself: if you see anyone matching the above description—"

The screen flickers to an entirely different scene:

Instead of the anchor, Executive Mosley rests his hands on the edges of an iron podium while a tapestry with the colors of the Dawn Federation hangs down behind him.

"Good afternoon, this broadcast is intended for all citizens of the Federation."

The screen flickers again. It displays a live video recording of Alandran vessels approaching in waves prior to circling a group of outposts in the wilderness.

"The Alandran government has commenced their assault on our forward operating bases in the southern regions. Although they haven't launched any formal strikes against us yet, they've taunted our turrets by edging close enough to move into range before backing away."

The monitor displays the speaker now.

"I am Executive Mosley Enden of Zone F; at this very moment, ladies and gentlemen, the security of the Four Cities has come under threat as well, with members of the GNP terrorist organization having detonated IEDs within Cities' gates. Reports indicate that they've randomized the positionings of these IEDs to provoke terror prior to moving forward with a full assault.

"As both the GNP and a contingent consisting of soldiers from the Gozadalus press on our western border, President Derek has vowed to make a stand for our country by riding out to meet the enemy himself."

Executive Mosely makes his voice stern, and his expression appears grave.

"Due to the nature of the recent attacks in Gaspul, attacks that have affected every branch of the Federation government, the President and the Democratic Council have made a joint decision.

"Starting now, and until this conflict has seen its end, the Dawn Federation will enact martial law across the entire Citadel. From here on out, the Ministry of Beautification will lead the way for us all..."

\-------

PART SEVEN

Two Devils

\-------
1

Amour Bali

\-------

Amour

\-------

The Monorail, the most esteemed passage—far greater than any other, to be quite honest. It leads into the Upper-City, where a true paradise can exist for those who've risen beyond their peers.

Perhaps if President Derek didn't live above the Monorail, above everyone else, I might not be as interested in catching up with him. It's precisely the fact that he's no better than I am that pisses me off.

My real father lived in paradise. I was raised by a desert.

They tried to trap him in a desert made of metal, where the great worm tore a clean passage into the Upper-City. Noboros pulled off the impossible, leaving behind the wreckage they promised, and that monster reminded the Upper-City of a very painful truth: that the Citadel is an incomplete masterpiece; at least two-thirds of it are grimy and unwashed.

How can I be expected to live within a paradise that's incomplete?

\-------

Although full of busy construction workers, some sections of the Monorail—toward the lower end—have been left completely alone. In the distance, I observe the flow of traffic from within a dark cave made from protruding steel.

I hear pathetic people crying and complaining over Executive Mosely's announcement down below. They're so loud that the fucking assholes nearly block out his next words:

"For this current crisis, which the Federation hopes to end prematurely, Enrec soldiers will be deployed to cover most of the Mid-City while spearheading a hard investigation into the groups and individuals responsible for all the recent tragedies we've experienced as a nation.

"While the President has chosen to handle things his own way, we, the Democratic Council, will ensure that domestic matters are made a priority—meaning, we WILL take back the Citadel Prison!"

This declaration is met with an applause that's also too loud for my tastes.

"Shut up!" I scream, hoping someone down there feels my malice directed at them.

At that moment, Kozas, who's wearing a dark red jacket with tacky, ripped, black cargo pants, tries to put his filthy hand on my shoulder—

I push him.

"Don't you FUCKING touch me, Piss General!"

As the third and only surviving 'Golden General,' Kozas backs off meekly. I return my full attention to Mosley's speech:

"The Lower-City's current chaos is simply the result of what happens when you mix negligence with incompetence! Those at the very bottom of society usually tend to stay there, right? Those parasites have fed off the Federation's negligence; they've used our suffering against us, growing due to the incompetence of the Majors, to the incompetence of the Executives and all arms of the Federation government. The Citadel, which has been plagued with corruption for too long, desperately cries out for heroes—now more than ever!"

The audience below is a mix of angry shouts as well as naïve reaffirmations.

"The Citadel has been starved of real justice for decades, and so the Democratic Council has recommended that the Ministry of Beautification aid in maintaining peace and order within the Upper-City. Only they can help us protect the true wealth of the nation."

At once, the wretched observers all start bitching again, but—

"Good citizens of the Dawn Federation, do not allow yourselves to be overcome by the illusion of fear, for the greatest warriors of the Ministry will serve as the foremost protectors of those living in the Mid-City.

"The three hero collectives: the Olivine Brigade, the Malachite Brigade, and, known well as the oldest of the three, the Pyrite Brigade. These three bands of heroes will be assigned to patrol Zones A and B, remaining nearby in case their aid is called for. In this manner, both the Council as well as the Ministry will form a partnership to oversee the restoration of this country.

"In times such as these, the wisest choice is for us to stand together against terror. With your cooperation, we'll turn this city into a safe harbor for our soldiers in the field. In the meantime, those soldiers stationed in the Citadel will focus on locating a series of suspects who've caught the attention of the Bureau.

"Please stay tuned for updates on those the Bureau holds responsible for the Citadel's most recent catastrophe. By Avva's grace, may we be covered in Her name."

"IEAQUIM!" the praises of those below cause my soul to cringe.

"There you have it, Kozas." I take a deep breath before looking into his dark, stupid eyes as I gesture down at the idiots. "Everything's gone surprisingly well—ha! I infiltrated the Council, then I used a special pawn of mine to kill off a certain intelligence officer. This officer, Frederick—a good guy, I'm sure—provided a lot of information, including the design and color of the President's personal 'war cruiser.' As we speak, General Kozas, I've made my final move."

"Yes, my friend, you've done an excell—"

"Be quiet. All I'm saying is that we've accomplished our respective tasks. So why, Kozas, was it necessary for you to call a meeting? Don't you have any respect for someone's personal time? If my plan's going well then you shouldn't be in the fucking Citadel, should you?"

"I've a personal mission."

"What about your soldiers? You're the leader of the GNP!"

"Not anymore," the fucker tells me.

"What?"

Kozas ceases showing me any signs of fear. His gaze veers off; he stares while thinking deeply to himself and wasting more of my time. Inspiration From Maya premieres at noon, so I have to—

"The vile one who killed my comrades has lived in peace. He has not faced retribution."

"You mean that ugly peasant, the fool who attacked Genod and Portis' operation? I had him reported already, so you might be a little late to the party on that."

"It doesn't matter." He scowls. "I cannot return to my friends without this man's head."

"I can't help you." I tell him flatly.

"This man—"

"You should get going. I don't expect the stupid brute to be alive for much longer."

He pauses to take a few deep breaths and holds back his fury. While Kozas contemplates his next move, I generate black claws from the one arm that's not in a cast.

"Don't do it..." I warn him.

Kozas nods. He covers his mouth with a dark scarf and says, "I'll find him on my own. I'll find him before they do, and I'll cut his heart out of his chest."

"Good boy."

He grimaces at that remark, but I meet it with a forcibly charming smile.

"What's the matter?" I taunt him. "Go get him."

Kozas hesitates, then he nods obediently, instantly remembering who funded his private militia in the first place. He strides toward his cruiser, and I follow to get in mine shortly after.

In some ways, we're kindred spirits. With our goals close at hand, we've resigned ourselves to remaining focused.

While having lived so much of my life in a haze of vindictive rage, for the first time—for the first goddamn time...

I feel calm.

\-------

Once I've seen Kozas depart, I clear my mind for a few seconds...

Then, I make a call:

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to report someone who I suspect's currently plotting an act of terrorism—could I speak to a detective, please? It's concerning the Gaspul Native Party."
2

Zola Bali

\-------

Zola

\-------

Blue skies. Bitter expresso. Wrinkled sheets of paper written in blood.

I feel sick, weak as I patiently await someone outside of Kosho Cappuccino. Not so far away from where I'm seated, there's the beginning of a giant crater which climbs its way through Zone D.

From here, I have the best view of what can only be described as colossal destruction, on more than one level. So much rubble spreads out in front; local housing projects have been buried, the people who lived there with them. This café, fortunately enough for its owner, was just missed by the path of the dark beast; thus, I decided that this discrete remnant of culture would serve as the best location for the meeting to come.

Amour and I have been preparing for a day like this, though, while he's steeled himself for his role, I'm all nerves.

Sometimes, amidst all the splendor and amenities of the Upper-City, I forget why I find Amour's quest so near to my heart. It's because his goal has never been far from my own, like one raging star traveling alongside another.

When I was made into a slave for feral men, it felt as though the rest of human society had turned away from me. It felt as if I'd been stuck in a timeless prison. I lost faith in everything. I thought this might change once I was free, but, when I at last did experience freedom, I resented it. I resented it because it came with the cost of experiencing more suffering, more shame. No one is ever "free."

When my relatives sold me as a bride, I realized that they were indifferent to what I'd experienced as a person. They were indifferent to me, just as so many humans are of each other.

Every time I experienced kindness the shadow of deception would rear its head; it revealed the true faces of those who had composed such awful societies. My husband's hatred began with his estranged father, yet it blossomed into something more, something I understand.

There is a certain beauty in watching others lose what's so precious to them, in laughing at how both the poor and the rich share such opposing priorities. We've lived above the mess, abiding by the rules of another Gozadalus, a dictator. President Derek.

I've come so far.

It started with the Bureau, where I discovered who'd been interfering with our operations. I manipulated Lieutenant Shraeu quite easily, leading him to his own execution in order to ruin the public image of the Bureau's competence. Then there was Krenisha, a casualty who would serve a useful purpose in the end. I gained access to her close contacts, which has placed me here. Here, where I'll finish what Amour started.

A woman in a white dress and wearing a silver Kom Cell strides quickly toward the entrance of the café, ignoring me before I call out: "Linaeda Ionicos."

She halts and looks my way.

"Do I know you?"

"I'm Emilie, Krenisha's friend."

"Where is she?" she cuts to the point while glaring at me with cold, grey eyes.

"Well, she said she couldn't make it, but—"

"Miss," Linaeda approaches me as her face reddens, "Krenisha has been missing for weeks. Do you know I am?"

"The Vice Chair to the Infantry Staff Commander, Irden Ionicos."

"You're absolutely right," she exclaims while stopping to loom over me with her arms folded, "and I didn't come here to deal with your blackmailing bullshit. Where the hell is Krenisha, girl? Don't lie to me."

"Krenisha's given me power of attorney to act in accordance with her good will."

"Enough of this," Linaeda turns her back to me and begins striding away just as confidently as she'd arrived, "I'll just have you brought in by the polic—"

"Wait, Linaeda!"

The set of orders I've written will cause enormous strain on my mind and body. Not only that, but, because of the nature of this mission, certain conditions must be met in order for our plan to work.

I don't waste any time. I rush to Linaeda's side with the orders I've written—

But a Dawn Knight steps out from the shadows and aims an assault rifle at my face.

Nonetheless, I'm so close that she's forced to address me again. I look into her eyes; I raise my voice:

"If Krenisha designated me as her power of attorney, then you should respect her choice! Krenisha left behind a series of confidential notes she'd hoped you would inspect rather than allowing them to fall into the wrong hands."

"Well give them here—and why are you using the past tens—"

Just as I hand her sixty sheets, I retrieve the pen I've tucked into my waistband and slice a vertical canal down my right wrist. I aim the inside of my arm toward Linaeda, flex, and a concentrated jet of my own blood sprays across both her undershirt and the parchment, unseen by the Knight stationed behind her.

Linaeda, the wife of one of the most powerful men in the Citadel, becomes very still. The emotion fades from her face; she tries to move without another word, but I grab her elbow and gently focus her attention back on me.

"Do you understand what you have to do now?"

Linaeda nods her head. The muscles in her face twitch slightly, conveying her desire to speak though she can no longer do so—not to me.

According to my personal instructions, I'm the one she must obey.

"Good girl," I smirk while admiring her horror. "Be mindful of your purpose, Linaeda. I've given you reports that must remain confidential until the time has come for you to do your part.

"Once you've fulfilled your duty, Linaeda, you will be free...

"'...you will be free, and you will forget me.'"

Linaeda nods a second time, then she's on her way, brushing past the Knight who stands by in bewilderment.

"Mrs. Ionicos," he exclaims, "what should we do with her? Do you want us to follow through with the arrest?"

Linaeda stops. She turns her head to glance at him briefly.

"What should we do with who?" she asks him. "What arrest?"

The soldier pauses prior to him bowing out of respect. "Very well, Mrs. Ionicos."

And, with that, my part in this is finished. I'll return to our home.

I'll rest, brace myself for what's to come, and then...

The Federation will be changed forever. Civil war could follow, madness might spill out into the streets. I'll watch gratefully as it all comes to an end.

\--------

PART EIGHT

Raiko

\--------
1

Initiation

\--------

Raiko

\--------

That idiot's still followin' me. From Zone A all the way to the beginning of Zone H, where that worm showed up after it crawled outta the ground. This part of the city's been abandoned, a few hangers on here and there but usually just the junkies who ask me if I know of any plugs before moving past me when I tell them to fuck off.

I snooped around where Magellan used to kick it, talked to some folks. I caught word of what was going on from lieutenants who used to rep the Kijivu Tribe, and they told me that there was some banger now calling himself the "Demon King."

Story goes that this Demon King took the Citadel Prison for himself. He set free everyone inside because he plans to use 'em. The media won't talk about the Lower-City anymore, but word is that this King took that, too, that he's got an army on his side strong enough to contend with the Ministry.

It's all talk. All bullshit.

What I know for sure is that Magellan got his powers from the Lower-City. The best lead I've got is supposed to be one of his soldiers, though the advice I was given was suspect. One of Magellan's old enforcers, Arma, told me to sneak past an Enrec checkpoint that's a good dozen miles out from the broken rails that used to lead down into the tunnel containing most of Zone H.

Wherever the district hasn't been totally flattened, hundreds of cracked, concrete projects, mixed in with larger complexes meant for housing more than one small business, line debris-covered streets that all look the same. It's real dark in this part of the Citadel and mostly due to all the rails and buildings high above me; the Lower-City's like this, too: gloomy, shitty.

No matter who I asked, they all seemed to say the same thing—they said that a "bronze warrior" roams the area right outside of the chasm, that he's the reason Enrec set up their checkpoint so far away. If you make contact with him, though, there's a chance he'll take you to see the King.

I'm probably dumb as shit for going through all this, like my moms used to tell me. Again, I'm following through on the words of strangers. I just believed them; I've gone into the enemy's territory, where people speak of more demons crawling out from the tunnel.

Demons...

I'm looking for a bronze warrior, who might not ever show, while putting my life at risk. I am stupid! Because, even if I find this fuckin' 'warrior,' that Tavon idiot might take a shot at 'em. If that happens—

I—no way!

Something catches my eye, something right next to me. I'm at the side of one the projects, passing an alley, when—

There's a tall shadow waiting with its back against the wall. I slowly turn my head, knowin' full well that this motherfucker's already planned for us to meet this way. He stands by silently, probably thinkin' he's the bigger man.

But I've got a gun.

I draw my pistol, aim, and—

The long blade of an axe connects with the middle of the barrel; it knocks the gun from my hand, forcing me to confront a giant who looks like he's been encased for decades in rusty, thick-ass plates of steel. His helmet's a sand-colored mask in the shape of a demon's face. While its mouth shows a fanged smile, its eyebrows are lowered like it's ashamed or something.

I'm fucked. I don't know how to use Maia the way Magellan did on a fuckin' whim. I don't even got the strength to hurt this thing!

The bronze warrior stands to the side.

He points in the direction of the alleyway, directly at a darkened spot in the wall. When I get closer, I see that a wide, inked oval seeps out from the unknown. I glance back at the warrior, who begins walking my way once he's run outta patience. Between the unknown and this motherfucker, I choose the unknown.

\--------

"Well, well, it appears we've another brave one, Rakshasa."

When I look up, I see the outline of a cave—a cave suspended in nothing. Darkness swirls around one central spot, interrupted in the middle by a white light; everything touched by it becomes real, becomes a part of the natural cave.

This light comes from a grey, marble throne. Seated on it is a figure covered in black and white flames, a stranger in the shape of a man with two horns on his head.

Though I'm beyond scared, thinkin' I've met with a worse fate than what I experienced in the Prison, this spirit acts casually. He rests his right ankle on top of his left knee, interlocks his fingers behind his head, and looks me over as the bronze warrior comes in after me to stand by while at my back.

"Little one, why have you come all this way?"

He did not just say that to me. I tell him, "I'm not little!"

"Easy. I meant no harm by my remark. I merely wished to point out the obvious, Raiko."

"How do you know my name?"

"You have no real defense against Imago. If I so choose, I can learn anything about you that I want.

"That would be rude, however. You came all this way for a reason, to a known recruitment center for my cause. Rakshasa stalked you for a time, then I grew bored after watching you flail about hopelessly."

"You're Him."

"Him?"

"The Demon King. You're playing with my mind right now—that's what you do."

"You're correct. Partly. At the moment, I've given you freedom to speak without having to probe your mind any further.

"Raiko, my name is Abul Shikon. I am the King of Demons, and some might call me an 'Ark,' meaning a bearer of change to come. I'm the leader of the Shikon Clan, who destroyed the Meiziki before they could ever face legal consequences. The Shikon corrected their mistakes, grew in number, and we claimed the Lower-City overnight. The most unguarded, uncared-for part of the Citadel might very well be transformed into the greatest base of operations against the scourge known as the Federation.

"Raiko, three humans have been following you intently."

"I know."

"What you don't know is that two of them seek the one who's been tailing you on his own. This man... I know him."

"He's supposed to be my mentor, but he won't show his face for some reason."

"Tavon exercising patience? Hmm. Nevertheless, you sought me out for a reason, and I've mostly respected the integrity of your mind in order to ask you why."

"Were you the one who Awakened Magellan?"

"Yes."

"He just came to you and asked for it?"

"Not so confidently, and he certainly didn't obtain his strength through easy means.

"Magellan agreed to a contract, one which was still in place even after he was imprisoned. His last will was transferred to you, which was what gave me the first image of who you were. From there, I reached out into the minds of Magellan's acquaintances, spoke through them to both you and others.

"I know why you've come. I only asked to see if you'd lie, but now I see that your intentions are pure. You're quite an honest person."

"You right."

"Hah. Just like him." he says, "Tell me: did Tavon make it in the Association?"

"He's my mentor, ain't he? Been followin' me for no reason apparently."

"He's watching over you, and that's of some comfort to me when considering whether or not to offer you a contract of your own.

"Raiko,"—the Demon King's eyes burn bright—"a man known as 'Rokshasa' had been crippled in battle. He came to me, asked to form a contract which would return to him the use of his limbs. Rokshasa, in turn, made a promise to me; he swore that he wouldn't break the rules of our agreement.

"Unfortunately, he did. Rokshasa underwent a metamorphosis into a demonic form, into Rakshasa, whom you've already met. Rakshasa is an example of what you might become if you betray me, Raiko. Therefore, seriously think on what a covenant between us might mean for you."

"I never thought I'd have to join a 'covenant,' but I've made up my mind already, Demon King."

"Well then, what have you decided?"

2

Perspectives

\--------

Tavon

\--------

What the hell? I've been watching over this stupid kid for a while now—how did he manage to disappear so easily? I was just a few blocks away when he came into contact with a stranger suited up like one of the Knights.

I rushed after them once the stranger turned his back. I meant to confront the guy, even if it meant fighting both of them, but...

They disappeared.

There's no explanation that I can think of other than that they knew. Someone else knew I was tracking Raiko; they used it against me. I've lost the kid, and I can't begin my first contract without him!

Dammit.

I focus power into my legs, expand them, and then I leap so hard from the ground that a cracked outline is left behind in my ascent. I reach the top of one of the complexes, then I cross over to the roof of another building with aluminum ducts wrapped around its borders. From this vantage point, I have a decent enough view of all movement within the immediate vicinity. If Raiko and his friend were aware that I was onto them, then there could be others feeding them intel. Which means one thing: I've already been caught.

I rest my back against one of the taller ducts, take two R Drop capsules, and then I light one of the last two blunts I'll ever have before I leave this city.

Somehow, I know that I've messed up in coming this far. In everything I've done leading up to this point, to the real challenge the Grandmaster's given me, I've rushed without thinking. All that's left for me to do now is wait.

Wait, watch, and prepare for whatever comes my way...

\--------

Aden Kaust

\--------

"Sir, why aren't you carrying any form of personal identification? You know how dangerous Zone H has gotten since the attack, right?"

From out of nowhere, while following Tavon with my partner, Sanori, this weird mothafucker started heading down the street and in our direction. We stopped him before he almost mindlessly ignored us.

The guy's wearing tan pants and a ripped, white t-shirt; he'd look pretty plain if it wasn't for that red head of hair of his—no eyebrows, either. His beard's two different colors: red and black.

"Can you at least bother telling us your name so we can move on, dumbass?" Sanori interjects.

He cringes at the insult, twitches even, but otherwise does nothing.

"My name is Shenu." is all he says before staring back at us emptily.

I want to investigate further, but Sanori nudges me—

"C'mon," he says, "leave the guy alone. He's probably traumatized. You're free to go, Shenu. Thanks for your cooperation; get the fuck out of here."

As the weirdo continues on his way, I can't shake the feeling that I've heard that name before...

"Hey!" Sanori exclaims loud enough to piss me off.

"What the hell is wrong wi—"

Then I see the problem. He's gone. Tavon wasn't so far away—he'd slowed down, making pursuit a lot simpler—but now...

"Where did he go, Sanori?"

"Looks like he ditched us, buddy."

"I see that," I glare at him, "and now I need to know how we can find him again. Do you realize what that bastard is capable of? He could be stalking us now for all we know!"

Sanori sighs instead of taking my response seriously.

"Maybe you're going too far with this witch hunt," he says.

"If you stop helping me during an assignment as crucial as this—"

"It's not a fucking 'assignment,' Aden. This is just a conspiracy that didn't pan out. It's all right, man, we can just go home. Don't you want to see your family before the world gets worse?"

"I'm not paying out your overtime if you back out now."

"You're fucking kidding," he growls back. "There is no 'overtime pay!' You made that shit up, so you'll have to pay me out of pocket for compensation."

I've had enough. I look Sanori dead in the eyes before I give my reply:

"Sanori, listen to me: if you do not help me, I won't just not pay you—in fact, that's a damn given. Nah, man, if you fail me on this, it'll be my fists banging on your mothafuckin' head, you hear me? We've come this far for a reason, and I'll see to it that we catch this murderer if it means I've got to fuck you up personally. You don't have a choice anymore. Let's go."

\--------

Shenu

\--------

It's not so far—n-not so far at all... I'll be in the Kingdom soon.

Funny. It's like I can't remember very much. All I know, to be honest, is that the President can explain it. I know that I hate him, that I was supposed to kill him in the beginning. There used to be voices that guided me—v-voices I know had to have come from the gods. Avva Herself reached down to touch me from above; she promised me that hurting Derek would benefit all of humanity. Derek's the one who put me in prison, after all. He tortured me, but I can't remember why.

Rather than feeling much at all, there's anger which must be unleashed. Anger was the founder, it built up in me with the addition of each voice. I had visions of punishing those who wish to hurt the country, and so my anger got worse because these people are the same ones who helped Derek lock me up. They're all connected.

I'm approaching a group of cruisers and a lot of people in uniforms. People with guns, I think. They spot me from afar, then one of them shouts through a megaphone: "STOP RIGHT THERE!"

But I can't stop. I can't until I've seen them all punished...
\---------

PART NINE

Brock

\---------
1

Regret

\---------

Brock

\---------

"I'm so sorry for leaving you," she tells me.

"I've been terrible to you, Brock...

"You didn't deserve to put up with someone like me...

"I want to start over, but I know you won't forgive me...

"I still love you, Brock... do you love me?

"In the morning, we'll put our lives back together, piece by piece..."

I believe her. I believe everything.

\---------

When I wake up the first time, it feels like Kalina's not there. I stop myself from worrying and go back to sleep.

The second time I wake up happens once the light of the Sun glints kind of harshly against the window above my head. I roll over. She's not there.

I'm worried. Why didn't she want to wake up with me? I start remembering what she's done to me in the past, then I leave my bedroom to look for her, hoping that... that...

Kalina left. Again. She didn't say a word, didn't leave a note—she left, just like the last time and the time before that. Whenever she shows up in my life, she apologizes for the past; she always breaks down the same way, and I fall for it every time.

She didn't bother to ask about Alina, about her own daughter. Again.

Why doesn't she care? It doesn't matter how she feels about me—not anymore—but for her to forget, like Alina wasn't who we'd built our fucking lives around. It makes me so angry...

I calm myself by clearing my head for a minute. On the inside, I know I shouldn't have let her back in. It's wrong to keep believing in someone who's used me repeatedly, with the same damn tactics, too. If she came here to manipulate me, then...

I go back to the bedroom to check—

My Kom Cell's gone. Kalina took it from out of the top drawer in my nightstand, along with some of my clothes. If she needed the money, I would've...

Goddammit.

I know I should calm down, but it hurts—I hate this. I hate myself for believing her again. My life has only been prolonged suffering, but my family was the light that kept me going.

And she fucking left.

I throw the nightstand hard against the wall; it breaks through plaster, and I'm still for a moment...

"FUCK,"—I throw the wooden wardrobe in my room to the ground, smash the chair to my right against its surface, and punch a hole in the wall. I head into the bathroom, where I look into my own eyes in the mirror while trying to slow my breathing. No matter what I break, I'm still angry. Blood drips from my right fist...

So I break the fucking mirror with my left.

I move into the kitchen, not totally satisfied, and—

The television monitor suddenly turns on: Executive Mosley is standing at a podium and in front of a bunch of guys decorated in gold and platinum-colored armor, each suit being differently proportioned than the next.

"This is Executive Mosley, and behind me are the heroes of the Pyrite Brigade. It is they who have been chosen to chase down the terrorists running amok in the Mid-City, and thus I will give the floor to their Champion Commander.

"Champion Commander Sade, everyone, the son of Sir Hitondo, who made the ultimate sacrifice for this country."

Mosley bows to Sade before moving away and allowing a freckled young man with both blond and red hair and piercing, dark green eyes to speak:

"People of the Federation, the Ministry has been hard at work in determining which individuals pose the greatest threats. Most of you could only imagine what kind of evil lurks at the very bottom of the Citadel, and it is our job, as Knights—as the Dawn Federation's prime fighting force!—to see that this very evil is dealt with promptly, especially when it threatens those who've spent their lives earning their ways to the top of the city.

"For all who happen to be listening in, let I, the son of the greatest Knight who ever served, be the guiding light against the new dangers we face. Let all those who wish to destroy the Federation know that the Pyrite Brigade is coming for them, one at a time.

"The Brigade has already identified its first target, in fact."

There's a knock at the door. I ignore it.

"His name is Tavon Meiziki, a fugitive who left the Citadel during the Ministry's investigation of the Meiziki Clan. While it's believed that he now serves the Angelos Association, his past crimes cannot be ignored. Furthermore, this man is suspected to have been in close contact with members of Noboros; therefore, the Brigade has decided that it is in the Federation's best interests to find this man, detain him, and figure out what he knows before another monster tries to destroy everything we've fought for!"

There's no way... Tavon...

What have you done?

There's that knock again, but I'm not finished watching:

"Citizens, the Pyrite Brigade promises to render justice to each individual marked within a day's time; this is how quickly justice ought to be served. Among the heroes who stand before you now, there are many, besides myself of course, that you may already know:

"Champion Neholit, King of the Javelin, the Knight who struck down thirty-five militia fighters on his own to quell a senseless rebellion.

"Champion Isa, the Bomber Goddess, who can level a fortress in a heartbeat!

"Here, too, is Champion Hui, the Grappler; Champion Stolor, the Ninja of the Citadel; Champion Rayleigh, known as the Fist; Champion Wanva, the Shaper; Champion Onindiva, who you all know as Flying Divinity.

"And, last but not least, Champion Muonsaga, the strongest Knight I've ever met.

"Together, we will commence a proper manhunt; in the meantime, all we ask is that you report anyone who resembles those depicted in a series of photos which will be displayed shortly and broadcasted for the rest of the day. For now, I'd like to thank everyone for their continued cooperation with the Ministry. While our country awaits the coming war, it is the Ministry you can count on to guarantee your safety. As always, we shall persist in being the heroes this nation believes in!"

I hear a third knock, then I answer the door.

2

The Absurd

\---------

Brock

\---------

"What do you want?"

"Ay, man, that's no way to treat a friend now is it?"

"Cub, why did you bring all these people to my apartment? We're not friends."

At Cub's left and right, I see faces I don't recognize. Strangers in overcoats, brown hoodies, and cargo pants look back at me. As Cub continues blabbing, they inch closer.

"The G-Master done put a hit out on your friend, Brock." Cub blushes and smiles. "He's mighty pissed about some of the shit he's been pullin', I reckon."

"I am Brock."

"No sir, Brock's the small guy. I remember."

This moment of confusion causes his friends to halt in place.

"Goddammit, Cub, I am Brock. Tavon is the small guy."

"No, I'm pretty sur—"

The dude to his left reaches inside his waist. I move to the side and just as another one of them blasts open the entrance to our place with a shotgun.

In response, I'm sprinting toward the bedroom, racing to lift my wardrobe upright, shouting "shit" once everything inside starts tumbling down loudly. I've still enough time to find exactly what I need.

"Don't be shy now, Tavon."

I hear him coming...

"You're cornered. Just come out so we can finish the game! You're makin' it boring!"

A man with a pistol in one hand and a wakizashi in the other emerges. I throw the last grenade I own.

It strikes his head, then it rebounds off the wall and lands at his feet. A second shooter's poised to follow behind his buddy, but they both stop once realizing how deep they've stepped into the shit.

I hear a faint "tick" right before Tavon's apartment implodes. Most of the explosion projects outward, toward the common area. It obliterates two of the assassins while incapacitating a third after one of his arms gets blown off as his body's thrown against the wall.

Instead of waiting for the enemy to make their next move, I rush through smoke and flames, hurdling into the short hallway that leads back into the Association's main building. I expect that I'll have to face another attacker, but there's no one in sight as I make a break for the inner lobby.

I hurry into a rose-carpeted hallway while taking note that they seemed to have run away, like fucking cowards. I'm not sure what's worse: Kalina leaving or being attacked by people who won't face me one-on-one.

If Tavon's boss did put him on a hitlist, then I'm in dire need of a new place to rest my head. I won't be safe here, so I reason that I'll have to arrange transportation...

Transportation I can no longer afford.

Kalina took everything. Tavon's missing in action while the world's out to get him. That stupid Cub bastard mistook me for a target, and now I've no choice left but to run as far as I can.

Rather than take any of the elevators scattered around, I go for the nearest available stairwell. I slide open the glass doors leading into a tall structure with both stairs and scaffolding that look as though they go in multiple directions. I don't waste a second, rushing down the first flight of steps and onto a grated platform. From there, I race toward another flight of descending stairs, but—

I sense movement in the air. He's right above me.

One of the assassins leaps off the first platform to swing at my head with his katana. I duck in time, though I feel the rush of wind following cold steel that all but brushes against my scalp.

The attacker lands on his feet, turns—with a pistol in hand—and I close the distance fast. I flex and raise my left palm; I strike the bottom of his wrist, then I use my other hand to knock the gun from his grasp.

Without stopping, I turn the same hand into a fist. I strike him in the cheek with the back of it, he steps back, and swings diagonally in a sweeping arc that forces me away from him.

"I'm real sorry about havin' to do all this,"—I hear Cub's voice coming from the same vantage point my ambusher used—"but a lot of us have a kill quota we've gotta meet. I—"

Cub breaks off all the sudden, but I'm too occupied with the guy in front of me to pay him any more attention.

The assassin charges, preparing a thrust I can't see! He's closing in.

"Ach..." I hear Cub pausing in between breaths, "Ach..."

I move my torso to the right, evading the thrust, but he staggers back and recovers by swinging overhead. His first strike misses me while also causing me to clumsily shift to the left. The assassin's blade is light enough for him to swing without me getting too close. When I do manage to cover some ground, finally grasping for his sword arm, he proves himself faster and cuts my hand open.

He sees the advantage in pursuing me before I can retreat much farther and charges again—"ACHOO!"

A shockwave rocks me back, pushes me off my feet. There's a bright, blinding light that fires from above and blasts through the metal framework; some of it touches the assassin directly and bisects his body, atomizing half of him in a second while I'm sent sprawling to my death.

My vision blurs. I can't feel.

I can barely make out Cub's head above, but I hear it clearly when he shouts: "Sorry!"

My body collides hard with the grating of a lower platform, but the impact's not enough to break me. Briefly, I feel as though I can't move at all, then a surge of pain rides its way up my body. I get to my feet.

The lowest floor of the Angelos Association isn't much farther down. I don't think anything's broken, and—if it is—I've only got a short amount time before the shock wears off. The best I can do is a fast limp which builds into a steady run. My heart's racing. My mind's panicking at the thought of another attack like that. When I manage to look up before leaving the stairwell, I can't tell whether or not he's followed me.

Now I understand how Cub's survived for so long despite being a dumb bastard. He's a freak. Just like Tavon.

\---------

I make it outside, then I'm hit with a different light.

The Sun bursts through the Upper-City and through the Monorail to shine down on Zone A. White, tiled metal stretches out into a path made distinguishable by neat patches of green where wisteria trees hang in the breeze.

A few dozen Core-Men block the passage ahead, all of them focused solely on me.

"Where is he?" one of the hooded killers asks.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I stand my ground against them, though they don't move any closer. Some have already got their glocks and assault rifles trained on me, so I'm outmatched either way. My worst fear has come to pass: Tavon's stupidity's going to end up getting me killed after all.

"You were the last person to be seen with him. You're better off just telling us everything."

"I'm not Tavon's keeper. I'm a medic."

"And we're the Angelos Association. Your friend has gone about killing his targets in a way that's made a lot of people very upset. As we speak, the black-market value for Tavon's head rises the longer he evades capture. Do you really want that for your friend?"

"He's a killer." I shrug. "I told him to change. If he didn't listen, then that's on him."

"And how would you like to die?"

"However I damn well please, fuckhead."

Three slender, silver cruisers zoom toward us from the East, racing along a hyper rail until they veer off and blare their sirens loud enough at us to interrupt what was about to be a bloodbath. The Core-Men remain in place as all three cruisers surround us prior to Knights in white armor springing forth from their cockpits.

One final cruiser, a wide and black vessel with multiple propulsion jets and shaped like a meteor spiraling through the atmosphere, arrives to flank us where another hyper rail connects to the platform containing the Association. All at once, we're ambushed by soldiers with superior arms, and I find myself outmatched for the second time. Because I stayed at the apartment for too long, I'm at the mercy of the Ministry.

Wait—no. Not the Ministry. Someone throws open a panel on the side of the cruiser shaped like a meteor. A man in a black kimono, with his thin, brown hair tied back into a ponytail and a black mask resembling a cat obscuring his face, steps out from the shadow of the cruiser and into the light.

He addresses the Core-Men first: "Stand down." he says, "I'm a Death Officer, and I vastly outrank you all. I'm ordering the lot of you to get lost... unless, that is, you'd like to incur the wrath of a Death Officer: Rank Four."

They pause long enough to annoy him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Leave this one to me!"

The killer mob glances back and forth between me and the Death Officer, but they eventually drop their guards and begin deserting the area completely, like nothing ever happened.

"Phew," the newcomer breathes in deeply. "I'm lucky that they didn't call my bluff."

We make eye contact, prompting him to smile and surprise me with an odd show of friendliness.

"The truth is that I'm only a Rank Three, lad, but I needed to sound intimidating if I was going to steal you away from them. Tsk, tsk, Core-Men these days; they're like rats cornering the vulnerable, are they not?"

"Who are you?"

"Ah, the direct attitude he warned me about. It seems the Intelligence Staff Commander was right in his assessment of your character."

"Look man, I'm just trying to get to another Zone—away from this place."

"My name is Death Officer Eanraig, the bodyguard of Intelligence Staff Commander Asenso Ido. The Commander has come all this way to request a meeting with you personally. Looks like he's got big plans in mind, Brock."
3

Second Wind

\---------

Brock

\---------

Inside the mega-cruiser, there's enough room to walk around comfortably and leather seating to boot. Death Officer Eanraig sits down at the northeast corner of its interior; counting him, there are now four Death Officers—each with different masks: a dog, a falcon, and a stag.

A man in a black suit decorated with pins and medals sits across from me, waiting before he says anything. His white hair's been cut short and cropped, lined up around a face that's barely wrinkled. Bright blue eyes study me, emphasizing prominent cheekbones and a small chin.

Rather than speak at all, he waits like he's trying to make me uncomfortable—and I am considering that there are killers wearing animal masks flanking me from all sides.

In the end, I lose my patience.

"I'm guessing you're Staff Commander Asenso?"

He extends his hand with a big, albeit mocking smile and ignores my question.

"It's Brock, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

I give him his handshake, looking him firmly in the eyes before he turns his head to look out the window to his right and grins even more.

"Ah, I've heard quite a bit about you, Brock. Yes... quite a bit."

Asenso leans back, clasps his hands together, and begins to study me again as he speaks:

"An Enrec soldier 'til the end. A real man's man back in the day, and—well, would you look at that—you're still young, in decent shape, which explains everything."

"What is there to explain? I needed a place to live, so I stayed with Ta—"

"Excuse me. I'm not finished."

He tries to stare me down. At the same time, my anger flares although I know I'm in no position to tell him what I really think about his condescending attitude.

"I heard about someone storming a Dar-Tech plant after that terrible accident. They said he was a former paramedic, fired due to unprofessional behavior. Do you have anger issues, Brock? You can speak now."

"Sir, I was just attacked in my own apartment—"

"Your friend's apartment. The killer."

"Right." I nod, trying to maintain a humble demeanor. "I was attacked after being robbed by my wife, so it's fair to say that times have been hard."

"I can see that." he chuckles. "You've become a wanted man, by both the Core-Men and Enrec.

"That's right, word spread up the chain of command about a bald guy barging in to rescue people. Were you that bald guy, Brock?"

"That's not how I would describe myself—"

"Simply answer the question, jackass, it's not hard."

"Yes. I was that 'bald guy.'"

"Good. As I thought. Brock, I don't need to remind you of this country's current state of affairs. Our foreign relations have never been the best, but I can say for sure that we're past the point of no return. While everyone else is either concerned about the Ministry being given too much authority or worried about the sand scum in Gaspul, the real threat should be obvious if you remember your time as a soldier."

"I'm sorry, sir, but what are you referring to exactly?"

"Dammit, Brock," he leans toward me and presses his palms together, "I'm talking about the existential threat Alandra poses to this nation! I'm referring to the presence of a country that's managed to survive almost as long as the Federation has and without having to have its entire city float in the fucking sky, Brock.

"To the South, I've just received a report stating that two of our forward bases of operations have been bombarded into rubble by guerilla fighters on the frontlines. Alandra lost maybe four of their vessels, but we lost over a hundred soldiers in trying to ward them off. For whatever reason, Alandra's held back on a full assault, like it's been doing for years. Their guerilla units have concentrated on destroying our outposts in order to push the border our way; every time we lose ground to them, we risk losing permanent and often strategic territory."

"You think they're finally making the first move?"

"No. I think they made their first move a long time ago, ignored by all of us. While the Citadel can realistically be occupied by only so many people, Alandra has been allowed to prosper for years... all the while bringing their petty skirmishes with our scouts closer and closer to the few cities we've got left in the southern outskirts. There's a chance that they could have other plans in mind that don't involve a direct confrontation, and that's where you come in, soldier."

"Soldier?"

He shows off his bright teeth again before nodding in a patronizing kind of way.

"Yes, that's the whole point. Brock, you are the perfect candidate for what might be Enrec's biggest operation yet.

"You see, I'm looking ahead, far ahead and wondering exactly what Alandra might do to put us at yet another disadvantage. War with them is inevitable, but when? How? It's necessary for commanders to answer these questions, and so I'm assembling a special battalion dedicated to preserving the security of the state."

"What makes this battalion special, sir, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Its vital due to its very nature: reconnaissance.

"I requested your presence because this is a military matter that requires people with your extensive experience. The battalion I'm creating will be the first of its kind, overseen by me personally, and will serve as our best means of infiltrating the lands held by Alandra.

"The teams I'm putting together will consist of esteemed officers, veteran sergeants, and people like you—people who've experienced life on the outside of structure. I intend for you all to learn from each other and train. Train every day, every night. You'll be a part of the greatest reconnaissance unit on Earth. Doesn't that sound like a better offer than living on the streets?"

"..."

"Brock?"

"I'm not interested. When I left, I told myself that my life belongs to me. I don't need a second master."

"Hah!"

Asenso reclines in his seat and appears like he's looking at me fondly.

"You're an idiot, Brock. You know why?"

"I'm not going to do anything for you if you keep talking shit to me like that."

"See, and that's why you're an idiot."

"Hmph!"

I tense, just for a second, then I notice that every Death Officer has turned their heads toward me. I'm deadlocked.

"As expected, you're acting a bit gauche, Brock. Don't try to act hard, like you've got any other fucking option. Who will you go back to after this? No one in the world needs you more right now than I do—am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong, but..."

"But what? This recon unit will be recognized as more prestigious than any military agency possessed by the Federation. You'll be paid my salary, Brock, because I vowed that I'd take a pay cut to allow for the creation of this battalion. If you really care about people as much as you pretend to, then this is the perfect opportunity for you to do your part. You'd be sending back valuable intel which would go a long way in keeping citizens safe."

"Do you expect me to pick everything up right away? To try to remember everything I learned from back then?"

"You're a soldier by nature, aren't you?"

"I—"

"I'm kidding," he says. "You'll be provided ample time to relearn the basics. Besides, people still remember your name in the Enrec armed forces; you'll be like a hero to them."

"Can I have more time to think on it?"

"Tell you what,"—he looks into my eyes with a cold expression—"you can either come with me to meet your peers and catch your second wind, however hard it may be, or...

"Hmm."

He smirks.

"I can have you taken right back to where you started. How does that sound, Brock? I think you know the right choice here. It's eating at the back of your mind—I can see it.

"Your new title will be Sergeant Brock. Sergeant Brock of the Okehazama Battalion!"

\----------

PART TEN

Aaliyah

\----------
1

Sisters

\----------

Aaliyah

\----------

"Oh hey, I didn't hear you get up."

Tallah's in the living room of our apartment. I hear that show again, Real Gunans of the Citadel, and I tell her, "Turn off that ignorant shit."

"Why haven't you shown up to work yet?" she's got the nerve to ask me while lounging on the couch like a bum.

"I took a leave of absence. I get to choose my own hours now, Tallah."

"That's not what I mean." she scowls. "Don't they need you after that Mulungu's spawn attacked?"

"Apparently they need the Ministry more," is my reply. "The public's been left out of the conversation altogether, Tallah. Since the Council called for martial law, I've been made useless."

"But you're the commander!"

"Psh—girl, go bother yourself with getting into an Upper-City university and stop worryin' about my job."

Tallah stands to confront me and looks like she's pouting. In some ways, she behaves younger than her actual age... that's how much life she missed out on.

"How about you learn to accept that I want to make music, 'girl.' Does being successful mean that I have to do everything your way?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, I'm not mad." She shrugs. "It's just that, now that I'm free of that hospital bed, I don't think it's right to let anyone else tell me how to live my own life. I mean, I just got it back."

"True. But how do you expect to live on music alone? Who's gonna support you?"

"That's easy. You are."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

I shake my head and move to get past her—

Tallah steps in my way.

"Hey, you haven't heard from Tavon have you?"

"He's a wanted man now. Why are you asking about that fool?"

"Nothing." She looks away and sighs.

"Tell me what's wrong? Why would you ask about a killer like that—has he contacted you?"

"No!" Tallah stops me before I get too aggressive, like always. "I was trying to get in touch with Brock."

"That bald mother—I mean, really? That's who you're into?"

"I wouldn't say that. Not right away." She shrugs again. "I'm not sure I always know what emotions I'm feeling for someone—after all, I've mostly just spoken to strangers on Vitality Logger."

"Vita Log? Tallah, do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Ahem." Her expression turns serious as she looks into my eyes.

"Aaliyah, Brock visited more than you did. From the beginning, he was there. I used to be unable to know a person's heart; I was naïve, believing that peoples' better natures would always win out. After lying in that bed for so much time, I grew to know the face of another soul."

"So, you don't want to get with him?"

"Hmm..." She ponders the question then replies, "Like I said, not sure. All I know is that I'd like to see him again."

Her words feel too familiar.

"Yeah, I get it."

I take a deep breath, then I stride toward the door, toward the company cruiser parked outside my complex.

"Where are you going now?"

"Silly."—I glance behind me—"The boss has finally summoned me back."

"But you don't have a boss."

I halt, wondering if I should say more.

"Is it the one who sent you on that suicide mission?"

"Yeah. I didn't return to headquarters after everything was over. Instead, I put in a request for a leave online so that I wouldn't need to show my face at the office. My boss approved it, but I knew he'd need to see me again eventually."

Tallah grabs my arm, still trying to get my attention as I continue on my way.

"If something's going on, you need to tell me. We're sisters, the only two left without mom."

I take the time to turn around and put my hand on her shoulder. I smile.

"That's precisely it, Tallah: we're sisters; that's why I can't trust you."

Not now. Not when I don't know what my new boss might be capable of. My sister's an empath, so, if she suspects I'm really going through it, I don't think she could stop herself from trying to intervene.

"It's okay if you don't tell me. I trust you. In the end, I know that mom would be so proud...

"'Commander Aaliyah.'"

2

The Game

\----------

Aaliyah

\----------

Before I even step into the Bureau's main office, filled with the fat heads of both the Ministry's executives and the Dawn Knights, I can see through the glass doors that they're all waiting for me.

Once I walk through those doors, they all bow. My sarashi keeps my wounds hidden under a black jacket, though I can feel myself start to bleed when taking in the amount of attention they're all giving me.

A Bureau agent, whose name I can't recall, accosts me fist; recovering from his bow, he's the fastest to exclaim, "Commander Aaliyah, one of our associates has gone out on his own! He hasn't responded to our repeated attempts to get in touch with him!"

"Commander Aaliyah!"

Some Dawn Knight nobody steps in front of my subordinate to try to give me orders:

"Miss, General Orito has requested a formal audience at your soonest convenience. Are you available now?"

"COMMANDER,"—a lower-ranking agent rushes in through the doors behind me—"Maxwell needs you right away!"

"Wait a minute—hold on!"

I put my hands up defensively, then I start with the first one: "Who's gone out on their own? What are you talking about—everyone's here."

"Lieutenant Kaust, Commander."

"I fired Aden Kaust. He's no longer a member of this department."

"Well he seems to think he is—"

"Commander, Maxwell gave me a time limit!"

"A time limit?" I address the guy behind me more casually than I probably should.

"Yes, Commander. He said that making sure a meeting happens between the two of you is more important than anything else in my life right now—word for word!"

"That's absolutely fine." the Dawn Knight interjects, "So long as the details of this meeting are reported back to us. Confidentiality in our presence is a strict no-no."

I nearly turn to curse him out, but I've got more important priorities right now. Besides, I'd rather speak to Maxwell than any of these fools.

"Lead the way." I tell the newcomer.

And, as I follow behind him, the other two shout: "Commander!"

I address them before leaving the main area: "You're both smart. Figure out the little things for yourselves. I'll be back to fix whatever you break in the meantime."

\----------

Maxwell's messenger escorts me to the entrance of the crypt, and that's where I ask him to leave. I venture forward for the second time, unsure of how my boss actually feels about my forced absence. I was hurt, but I didn't bother speaking to anyone. Zola's betrayal had made me angrier than anything I'd been through. Just as I'd turned my back on Dom Secundus, a group of vigilantes whose trust I'd earned, my colleague and best friend did the same to me.

It seems like the rest of my life might just be spent alone. I'm at the top, but what's the real cost of being Maxwell's most valuable player?

Before I can make it to him, Maxwell's voice echoes through the dark corridor:

"IT'S NICE TO SEE YOU, COMMANDER. HAVE YOU BEEN WELL?"

"Why couldn't you just wait?" is my immediate response.

"I ONLY MEANT TO WELCOME YOU TO YOUR NEW HOME."

"New home? What's that supposed to mean?"

"YOU'VE INSTRUCTED ME TO WAIT, AND SO I WILL WAIT."

The damn trickster. A blue light abruptly appears in the distance. I move into a metal chamber, and, while stepping foot into the room proper, Maxwell's three faces light up and cycle through on an overhead screen; right below him, a blue, holographic map of the Citadel—as well as the surrounding territories of the World Below—spreads out, taking up most of his private quarters.

"WITH ONE LOOK, COMMANDER, CAN YOU PERCEIVE THE GREATER THREAT?"

"Greater threat, huh? Hmm..."

Toward the bottom of the Citadel's hologram, everything's gone black. Maybe it only shows the areas where Maxwell's 'Eyes' are still operational.

To the South, scattered dots appear in several groups on the map. At a glimpse, it's easy to see that we've reduced the defense of our southern border because Alandra won't make a true advance. While they might talk shit and try to intimidate us, the real threat's already on the move.

To the West of the Citadel, I see waves of individual specks moving in throngs. And—wait a minute! I can see that there's a two-pronged advance aimed at Gaspul's Four Cities, but also...

"It can't be."

"YOU'VE PERCEIVED IT THEN?"

"That our enemies in Gaspul aren't just gathered in the outskirts?"

"CORRECT. THEY'VE BEEN HIDING AMONG THE POPULATIONS OF OUR OCCUPIED TERRITORIES, ALL AWAITING THE PROPER TIME TO STRIKE. ALL INSURRECTIONISTS."

"Perhaps that's the wrong term if it includes so many. It looks like swarms are concentrated in specific parts of all four cities; that's not good, and it means that enough of Gaspul's population felt the hatred it takes to rise up against the Federation. That doesn't make them terrorists," I tell him, "that makes them an army."

"THE WAR HAS BEGUN. IT'S REPORTED THAT EACH TERRORIST CELL USED HEAVY WEAPONRY ON FEDERATION SOLDIERS.

"THE DEMOCRATIC COUNCIL HAS REQUESTED THE FULL UTILIZATION OF ALL AVAILABLE SENTINELS AS WELL AS MY PRIVATE CORPS: ENFILADE."

"You've got a 'private corps' you didn't tell me about?"

"DISCLOSURE WAS UNNECESSARY."

"It's was definitely needed, Maxwell."

"YOUR ANTICIPATED SURVIVAL RATE WAS TWELVE PERCENT. SENDING ENFILADE INTO AN OPEN CONFLICT WITH NOBOROS WOULD HAVE RISKED LOSING ALL OF THEM ALONG WITH YOU."

"So you've been using me? That's all I'm good for as a commander, being a convenient tool?"

Maxwell's image is projected down from the screen; the monitor goes blank as the hologram of his elder personality appears across from me.

"MY NAME WAS ELIOS CEDGAR. AS TIME HAS PROGRESSED, I'M AFRAID THAT I'VE LOST A GOOD MAJORITY OF MEMORIES RELEVANT TO WHO I ONCE WAS. FOR ME TO EXPERIENCE UNITY, I HAD TO SACRIFICE SOME PARTS OF MYSELF TO MAKE ROOM FOR OTHERS, DEAR. I'M SURE YOU'LL UNDERSTAND SOME DAY."

"I'd never lock my mind inside of a computer, sir, but I respect that you had the guts to do it yourself."

"HMM. 'GUTS' OR FEAR OF DEATH, I'D RECKON. ANYHOW, I AM ELIOS, WORLD CHAMPION OF 'UNIK,' AND THIS IS THE MIRROR TO THE UNFOLDING SITUATION."

Maxwell's oldest personality, Elios, stops to smirk, then all three of his identities converge on one another. His face blurs, becoming unrecognizable in a digital haze as he continues:

"YOU WILL COME TO SEE THIS MIRROR AS THE BOARD ON WHICH WE WILL HAVE OUR FIRST MATCH."

"Wait, what? What mat—"

"UNIK IS A DERIVATION OF CHESS, EXCEPT IT CONSISTS OF A HUNDRED INDIVIDUAL PIECES. EVERY PIECE COMPOSES AN ARMY YOU BUILD AS YOU MOVE ACROSS THE BOARD. WHILE ON EQUAL GROUNDS WITH YOUR OPPONENT, THE GOAL IS TOTAL CONQUEST.

"AT THE MOMENT, COMMANDER, YOU'VE FULL ACCESS TO ALL THE INFORMATION YOU NEED. FROM THIS TERMINAL, YOU MAY VIEW LIVE REPORTS REGARDING THE ONGOING CRISIS. WITH YOU BY MY SIDE, WE ARE SCHEDULED TO WATCH AS THE COUNCIL WAGES A WAR FROM THEIR HOMES. WHEN BOTH SIDES HAVE MADE THEIR MOVES AGAINST ONE ANOTHER, YOU WILL HAVE TO MAKE A DECISION CONCERNING THE WELFARE OF THE CITADEL.

"COMMANDER, INSPECT THE MAP AGAIN. NOTICE ADDITIONAL UNITS CLOSING IN ON ONE LOCATION."

"Zone H. Why there?"

"IF YOU HAD RETURNED DAYS EARLIER, YOU WOULD ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER. YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PREVENT WHAT IS SOON TO OCCUR."

"Explain yourself, Maxwell. What do you think's going to happen that involves me?"

"YOUR FRIEND HAS BEEN TARGETED. THE CRIMINAL KNOWN AS TAVON WILL BE APPREHENDED SHORTLY, IF NOT EXECUTED OUTRIGHT."

"And what exactly has he done that's wrong in your eyes, Maxwell? Tavon killed people in the Citadel for the Association, but his targets have been some of the worst criminals we have."

"YOU ARE A MURDERER JUSTIFYING A MURDERER," he says. "DO NOT PROJECT YOUR GUILT ONTO ANOTHER. TAVON ACTED OF HIS OWN VOLITION; THEREFORE, THE MINISTRY, ALONG WITH OTHER UNITS, HAVE SET THEIR SIGHTS ON ELIMINATING HIM. ADDITIONALLY, THE COUNCIL HAS REQUESTED THAT THE BUREAU AID BOTH THE ENREC SOLDIERS FIGHTING IN GASPUL AS WELL AS THE KNIGHTS PURSUING ENEMIES OF THE STATE.

"COMMANDER, IN THE DURATION OF THIS WAR, I WILL DEMONSTRATE TO YOU THE FULL EXTENT OF MY POWER. HOWEVER, NEAR THE TIME OF ITS CONCLUSION,"—his face becomes the clear image of Elios once again—"BOTH OF US WILL BE FORCED TO MAKE DECISIONS THAT WILL AFFECT THE REST OF THE WORLD. TOGETHER, COMMANDER, WE WILL PLAY A REAL GAME OF STRATEGY TO DETERMINE WHAT KIND OF FUTURE WE DESIRE."

"Maxwell... why are you doing this? Why does it have to be a game?"

"BECAUSE ONE MIND PITTED AGAINST ANOTHER, ONE OF A POLAR OPPOSITE DISPOSITION, REFLECTS THE NATURE OF A TRUE DIALECTIC.

"WE ARE NOT COMPANIONS. I WILL NEVER EXIST AS AN AUTHENTIC HUMAN, BUT MY PURPOSE IS TO SERVE HUMANITY, TO CREATE THE BEST OUTCOME FOR ALL HUMANS LOYAL TO THE FEDERATION.

"BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MOST INTELLIGENT HUMAN I HAVE ENCOUNTERED THUS FAR, THIS SORT OF COMPETITION IS ONLY NATURAL. WITH AN OPEN DIALOGUE BETWEEN US, I BELIEVE THAT A HUMAN MIND COMBINED WITH A SYNTHETIC BRAIN WILL RESULT IN THE UTOPIA ENVISIONED BY PRESIDENT DEREIKAUND'S PREDECESSORS.

"AALIYAH, THE TITLE OF 'COMMANDER' HAS BEEN GIVEN TO YOU BECAUSE, WITHOUT YOUR THOUGHTS, I HAVE NO WAY TO REFINE MY VISION. I AM ORDERING YOU TO STAY IN THIS ROOM UNTIL THE GAME'S COMPLETION; THIS IS HOW YOU WILL MAKE UP FOR YOUR LONG ABSENCE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"I...

"I... yes. Yes, sir."

"VERY WELL. FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, AALIYAH, YOU WILL BE REMEMBERED AS THE COMMANDER WHO STEERED THE FEDERATION IN ITS MOST OPTIMAL DIRECTION.

"LOOK. IT'S BEGINNING. THE FUTURE OF THE DAWN FEDERATIONS RESTS ON US..."

\-----------

PART ELEVEN

The Battlefield

\-----------
1

The Insurrection

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

The war began with mass bombings.

There were the Four Cities: Razul, Guruh, Havur'd, and Nabb, all of which had been infiltrated by members of the Gaspul Native Party. While the cities had been given weak democratic bodies to govern them individually as Enrec aided them in rebuilding their army, the Party had stood by and mostly observed the peace. Simultaneously, they began recruiting both the old as well as the young, male as well as female, all united in an allegiance formed against the Dawn Federation.

While under occupation by Enrec, the natives of Gaspul had suffered abuse and segregation. Those without the means or status to protect themselves were often at the mercy of lower-ranking soldiers. Some officials condoned hostile behavior against those who resided in Gaspul; they reinforced a sense of nationalistic sense of pride, of superiority. As a result, the thousands of soldiers stationed within the Four Cities had exerted full control on the citizens around them through extortion, kidnapping, and threats of death.

In retaliation, the forces of the GNP grew. Members formed cells numbering in the hundreds. In Razul, closest to where the chaos emerged, stories abounded about the "Chosen of Gozadalus." Each cell murmured about the strange god, said to have shown his face only once and back when Ruzumbhad had fallen to the Chosen. The Federation pushed them out, thus their god disappeared along with them if but only for a time.

In the years to follow, they would circle around Ruzumbhad, set up a western base of operations, and reach out to the GNP, who were initially reluctant to accept their help.

As the Federation grew more powerful, however, an alliance proved necessary if both parties expected to survive any future conflicts involving them.

First, the bombings came:

Several GNP members had planted linked explosives around the barracks and Federation checkpoints for half a decade, all awaiting the moment when the last Golden General would call them into action. Although some of their IEDs failed to detonate, an underground link they'd strung through tunnels connecting all four settlements had reignited those which had at first failed to explode. Because of this, sections of the Four Cities fell in separate waves, decimated by blasts that resounded in all directions.

Following that, the two allied factions struck as one:

They moved through the desert valleys and city streets of Gaspul at a steady pace, forcing the residents of the Four Cities to flee to the outskirts. Little did they know that the surrounding villages had been left at the mercy of the followers of Gozadalus. As native civilians fled into the arms of terrorists worse than those they'd always known, a black moon rose to crest just over the highest mountain.

This black moon, known by worshippers as the Head of Gozadalus, was not so far distant in relation to its superior incarnation: the Mulungu. On the contrary, this being wielded power reeking of both human and ethereal influences. Gozadalus was believed to be one of The Displaced: gods who resembled demons, gods with revolting features that inspired terror in those who dared to look upon them. They were heralds of a more sinister presence, but the powers of Gozadalus Himself were generally unknown. Wherever he appeared, his followers experienced victory.

As such, a bleak influence spread over the land. Like in times past, madness coated the world below the Citadel, inspiring unnatural fevers and violent tantrums. Humans and Hayashi, on both sides, began contorting in horrific ways, becoming bloody husks and abdominal creatures that glided across the earth. The remaining ground soldiers of Enrec retreated inside of the Citadel's perimeter, edging closer to a series of mortar formations that had been positioned several miles before a series of fifty ivory structures somewhat shorter but strongly resembling power stations.

Overall, it's generally said that both the Democratic Council and Derek had known and prepared for this scenario. Prior to the initial attack, Enrec had fortified its offense rather than focusing on protecting those who'd resided under Federation rule.

All along, a crucial move had been decided upon that would put the Federation at an advantage in the battle to come...
2

The Manipulator

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

Below the Head of Gozadalus, Amour Bali kept his back turned to the abomination as he took in the view of all Four Cities and from the highest peak of Rumi Mountain.

"It's all burning, Mr. Thume. The GNP moved so quickly. I didn't exp—"

"Stop right there!" called a voice from behind Amour and his butler. "Who are you? This is a restricted area!"

Infantry Staff Commander Irden Ionicos, decorated in a blue and black uniform and wearing a navy beret, drew his pistol before Amour could react. Amour was forced to raise his hands in surrender as he spun to face four gunners, four gunners who'd landed their cruisers far away in order to stealthily take their positions on Mt. Rumi's tallest plateau.

"Don't just fucking look at me!" Irden screamed. "Who are you?"

Amour hung his head low, briefly...

Then he smirked.

"Who am I?"

He made direct eye contact with Irden, warping his expression into a grim, mocking scowl. He began walking toward the Staff Commander.

"Why, I paint the dead, sir."

Irden unloaded. With his resolve strengthened, he aimed three perfect rounds at Amour's head.

Mr. Thume appeared. He protected his master with his hulking body, covering Amour's smaller figure as it absorbed each bullet.

All five gunmen took aim and fired; the sound of bullets rang out over the mountain, over burning fields and towers and screaming victims. Each round struck its target, and Mr. Thume took the brunt of the attack. For a time, once everyone had emptied their magazines, there was an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Thume remained in place, twitching ever slightly.

"I've said before that Mr. Thume is a very special man, Irden. I'll let his actions speak for themselves...

"Mr. Thume, finish him."

"Wait!"

The construct that was Mr. Thume bounded forward as lightly as a dancer. Mr. Thume closed the distance between himself and Irden in half a second; Irden could barely cry out as one of Thume's rotted and bulging hands grabbed his throat and, with one squeeze, burst open the Infantry Staff Commander's head.

All around him, Irden's soldiers closed in. Three prepared to bash in his head with their weapons; the fourth stayed behind to reload, and they planned on backing off in time for their designated shooter to unleash another barrage.

They charged at Mr. Thume confidently...

But Amour's last servant was also his deadliest. Worse than even himself.

\-----------

"Admirable work, Mr. Thume. Of Course, it'd be much more admirable had the Piss General abandoned his stupid revenge plan.

"Oh my, Mr. Thume, it appears that you, one of my own creations, are my only companion in witnessing the end of the Federation. What a bittersweet reality, Mr. Thume..."

The two of them stood together and observed as flying shapes emerged from both the East and West. In their wakes, larger shadows hovered from farther away whilst steadily growing closer.

"It's only a matter of time." Amour sighed with relief. "I've never felt so relaxed in my life! The work that I've strived so long to complete is within my grasp—Dereikaund is within my grasp! Mr. Thume, I'll see to it that my legacy overshadows his. I'll look at him in his stupid fucking face, and I'll tell him—I'll tell him...

"Hmm. Well," he chuckled, "I suppose it'll be a wonderful conversation. Merciful Avva, how I long to see his mouth filled with blood."

3

Assault

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

Nine rows of metallic, flying demons came from the West.

Swarms of edromedas approached, which were cruisers weaponized and influenced by the design of the Federation Zomas to the extent that they all possessed a secondary function. While edromedas began as dark, narrow, and slender cruisers with two attached missile systems, they all possessed the ability to convert into spider-like forms, becoming capable of land navigation as well as performing expertly in aerial combat.

Because of the edromedas supplied by the forces of Gozadalus, both of the allied factions were able to organize themselves into a perfect, flat sphere which slowly spread as it arrived within range of the Federation's outermost mortar teams.

Those stationed at the helm of the Federation's defenses had expected a guerrilla attack similar to the ones staged in the South.

On the contrary, the Gozadalus fought with a different strategy in mind. For them, the favor of the black moon was the highest good attainable. Therefore, though they stood the risk of being shot down by the Federation's cannons, every Edromeda plunged toward the ground below, falling just short of being obliterated while in the atmosphere.

All at once, a wave of black spiders covered the mortar pits. Those soldiers who weren't incinerated by the gallons of acid spat at them by the edromedas were either crushed or killed in the blasts to follow. Additional mortar pits, having been dug and positioned all around, commenced firing upon the dark army.

Yet, behind the edromedas, tall mechanized figures dominated the land. Over time, steel, grimy heads peeked through smoke and flames.

In the aftermath of the first mortar rounds, enemy fleets, arranged in rows and distanced far from each other, soared as they followed the first wave of attackers.

The army of spiders set about conquering their targets by whatever means necessary. Several plunged headlong into heavy gunfire and then imploded upon contact with Federation firing teams. In no time at all, the vast majority of the Four Cities' mortar pits were decimated. Only half of the first wave had been destroyed, and, as a result, the tide seemed to change, favoring the Federation's enemies.

The GNP took to the skies, commandeering Enrec war cruisers in order to join with grey vessels that had been modeled after them. Together with the followers of Gozadalus, the Gaspul Native Party cleared a sizable portion of land and showered the occupied territories with a rain of grey.

All had gone according to their wishes. Nevertheless, grey would encounter blue; the real battle was close at hand.

\-----------

Not so far from the battlefield, President Dereikaund observed the ongoing situations both at home and at large. At his side was the Communications Staff Commander, Sevi Baron, the youngest of Derek's main advisors.

"Irden should be making his next report momentarily, correct?"

Sevi bowed curtly.

"Yes, Mr. President."

"How many Death Officers were assigned to fight as part of our squadron?"

"Twelve surround our zekokon, prepared to move on any stray enemy units...

"Sir?"

"Yes, Sevi? Speak your mind."

"Right." He nodded. "Forgive me for questioning your decision, but why did you feel it imperative to come yourself? Mr. President, you've protected the Federation for years. You could've sat back, like the Council is now, and watched the war in the company of your family—"

"And that would've been all well and good, Sevi. It was a sensible choice; you don't need to remind an old man of what he could've done in the past. I've had my entire life to ponder my regrets, yet riding into the brink has never been one of them.

"Every now and then, Commander Sevi, it's important to remind oneself of what it means to live rather than to simply order others around. Staying absent from reality does not preclude it from eventually finding you again, and so we're here to fight alongside those who've sworn an oath to serve us. On this day, let us serve them. Let us uphold the values of our forefathers!"

\-----------

The Edromeda army neared the fifty ivory pillars, moved to place a large portion of themselves within firing range, and commenced a full-on attack. The edromedas depleted their individual munitions, firing warheads coupled with machine gun rounds into a cluster of the white towers.

In response, a faint, golden field appeared around each pillar, absorbing consecutive blasts while acting as perfect shields against even the suicide detonations that followed once the edromedas had used up their ammunition. Just as quickly as they'd arrived, the first wave was decimated against the backdrop of what was now twelve grey fleets flying under the watchful Head of Gozadalus.

Before the Federation's scouting vessels could retreat, Omnivol Missiles, blazing spears which homed in on specific targets, chased them down. The main body of the scouting regiment failed to reach the Federation's first formation in time; they were reduced to ash far from their reinforcements, and thus, at that very moment, hatred for Gaspul was bolstered amongst those who were yet to engage with the Gozadalus and the GNP.

Those fifty ivory pillars had been set up as a unique diversion, but they doubled as the Dawn Federation's most valuable weapons against aerial fighters.

At last, both the Gozadalus and the GNP were forced to move on once the pillars' barriers had proved too troublesome. Inevitably, they'd need to contend with the Federation's best aerial units; therefore, they rapidly shifted into proper formation. Squadrons of fifteen war cruisers soared ahead in ranks while progressively increasing the distances between themselves.

And, just when each pillar was activated...

\-----------

"Every tactical conflict waged in the air is always a game of recon," Derek said to Staff Commander Sevi as the Federation's "Moonstone Fleet" approached. "One side wishes to know the location of the other at all times; in fact, not knowing is how you lose when fighting in the sky.

"We've given some of ours to eliminate a great number of their forces. They have demonstrated the power of a direct assault, and so we will demonstrate to them the wisdom of the indirect, the wisdom of the calculating warrior."
4

Naomasa's Revelation

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

Thirty fleets, fourteen battalions, and twenty mechanized land units assaulted the enemy coalition in unison.

Meanwhile, the second wave sent by the Gozadalus—and accompanied by the GNP—was annihilated by a series of massive cannons that jutted out from each of the fifty towers. Following a duration of ten seconds, every one of them was capable of generating enough force to project volcanic blasts of energy into the atmosphere that shredded through the opponent's numbers.

Although the Federation had come equipped with more than enough units for the fight at hand, it became noticeable to all when a third wave did not emerge from the smoke and debris.

Great streaks of light surged through the sky, most of which guarded gigantic vessels with four angled, netite wings and bulky torsos. Zekokon flagships had entered the battlefield.

As the zekokons soared overhead, they beamed with hope for the remaining refugees of the Four Cities. The full force of Enrec's aerial corps was also deployed, joined with technology borrowed from the Ministry.

Ahead of the coalition's next wave of grey fleets, rusted and grimy blocks, which served as the main bodies of colossal land units, parted to expose long barrels of moa. The GNP had engineered the trap specifically for this occasion.

In response, the Dawn Federation's armada attempted to fly skyward, out of their range and while moving forward to evade them. In spite of their quick, reflexive adjustment, the hidden mortars employed by Gozadalus were about as effective as those used by the Federation, but their goal wasn't to necessarily strike the zekokons directly. They fired, and, once their rounds had reached at certain level in the atmosphere, they detonated.

They detonated; two fleets felt the effect.

Not a moment later and dozens of war cruisers plunged toward the World Below, shocking all who had been watching the broadcasted battle unfold while within the Citadel.

The boy who saw himself as the heir to President Derek's legacy observed until he could no longer contain his fears. He fled from his room, inside of his family's palace, and tried frantically to locate his mother...

\-----------

"There you are," he exclaimed when discovering Jinuma, Derek's wife and his mother, sitting cross-legged before a statue of Dharmanic Lord Isolakandi. "Mother, don't you know what's going on right now?"

"Hush, Naomasa."—she turned to reveal an infant she'd tucked in her arms, his newborn sister—"Kitsune's just settled in."

"I understand the need to watch over her, mother, but don't you think you could've assigned one of the butlers to do it? Dad's just started fighting those terrorists!"

"Hmph."

Jinuma studied her son with dismay.

"Don't you think your time would be better spent training to be an heir fit to retain his father's legacy?"

"Mother, I am more than qualified! I trained under father all of my life—studied constantly in his precious library! You know this."

"My son," she said to Naomasa, "the observance of routine does not make a warrior talented."

"What are you saying? That I'm not worthy?"

"Shh!" Jinuma put her finger to her lips. "Do not make me go through the trouble of putting your sister to sleep again..."

Before she could continue, Jinuma sighed.

"Little Naomasa, you've shown the spirit necessary to be an inheritor. In the trials your father set for you to accomplish, in all the tests he administered, it was clear that your focus was unshakable.

"I'm sorry, my son, but it just hasn't been enough."

"What?" Naomasa gasped. "But—but..."

"You can perceive it for yourself. That's why you've come here, isn't it? Did you wonder why your father didn't call you into battle by his side?"

"He... he didn't think I was worthy, either. Neither of you do, but why?"

"Ah, so you cannot see it for yourself then.

"Naomasa, what does Derek possess that you do not? In every one of your training sessions together, he has always been proven your superior. Your father has gotten older and, forgive me, more brittle, yet you continue to lose. You never Awakened, never even showed signs of Awakening like we had.

"For all we know, you could be like the rest of those below."

"Mom... how can you..."

Naomasa was devastated; he became speechless before the admonitions of Jinuma:

"Don't give yourself over to worry, my son, for you'll be traveling down a different path."

"No. Please. I am strong enough."

"I won't argue with you anymore, Naomasa. Before your father left, he asked me to give you a message:

"'Do not presume that you will ever follow in my footsteps. In my time with you, in witnessing you develop into the man you are today, it has become clear that the gods have created you for a different purpose. I ask that you please leave the matters of warfare to others, to those blessed with the natural talent which has been absent in you. Do not lie to yourself about your own ability; seek safety, for you are my son, and I love you no matter what.'"

5

The Artificial God

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

"AS A TOKEN OF MY TRUST, COMMANDER, I HAVE DECIDED TO INVITE YOU INTO MY PERSONAL SANCTUARY. MY HOME."

"Yeah, uh... I think I'm good on that," Aaliyah replied curtly.

Without her permission, the map of the world before her suddenly warped and bent in Aaliyah's direction. She'd little time to back away prior to a digital cover enclosing her body. Once it'd touched her, metal spines extended to pierce multiple sections of her cervical spine.

Aaliyah tried to cry out but just as quickly found that she was incapable of speech. Her mind went blank as her vision blurred, then she experienced a violent headache while reality shifted in its composition around her.

The underground tomb gave way to vividly verdant scenery, to grassy hills extending under a clear blue, midday sky. Aaliyah shielded her eyes from the bright rays of the Sun, but a warm breeze bolstered her confidence as she traveled forward.

Several feet away, a small stranger sat waiting. He was seated at one of two wooden chairs positioned across from each other and separated by a square table, all of which he'd positioned under a broad oak tree. Once Aaliyah had gotten close enough to see who had kidnapped her mind, she discovered that the youngest personality of Maxwell, a child prodigy, wanted to play a game of Unik against her just as badly as Elios had.

"Hey, miss!" he exclaimed while waving at her excitedly, "Do you like the world I made? When I was growing up, the doctors told me to envision 'peaceful places,' and so I always came here to rest when things got too stressful. Does that make sense?"

"It does, actually."

Aaliyah took the seat across from him.

"What's your name, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," he said. "We don't have time for you to practice ignorance, Aaliyah."

"Excuse me?"

"Gozadalus used mechanized units to unleash nerve gas in the atmosphere preceding the Moonstone Fleet. The Federation armada didn't plan on their enemies using a biohazard against them—more importantly, where did they obtain it?"

"Can we still watch the battlefield from here?"

He smirked while prompting the table below its glass surface to part and reveal a screen. On the screen, Aaliyah observed impotently as dozens of Federation vessels began exploding against the grounds surrounding the Four Cities.

Despite such a heavy assault, the zekokons on the frontlines appeared unaffected. At least for the time being...

"My name was Moti, and I was the real Unik Champion—not that old man. Also, lady, I'm the smartest of all three. You can bet me on it!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Hmph." Moti smirked. "They preserved me for a reason. That's why I've been assigned to make the most important decision of all."

"And what rational decisions could you possibly make in a war outside of your control, Moti?" she retorted mockingly.

"Heh. You've no idea." Moti's smirk turned to a broad grin. "The Dawn Bureau's been given a critical assignment, one we're expected to carry out as we speak."

"And we haven't moved."

"Exactly." he nodded, unable to hide his giddiness. "Do you want to know why?"

"Don't waste my time, Moti. Not now."

"Ha! Okay then. Did you know that, out of all the gods worshipped by Federation citizens, I'm the only one who's been ignored for as long as I have."

"You're not a go—"

"Shut up!" he screamed so reflexively that it stunned Aaliyah.

Instead of allowing herself to submit to senseless anger, she chose to see Moti as a child rather than an insolent enemy. Aaliyah held back what she had to say next so that he would continue:

"The truth is that I'm in control of all sentinels at the Dawn Federation's disposal; they all bow down to me," he said. "I'm the one who's protected the Citadel by agreeing to go along with the President's half-brained schemes. He says that he can see into the future, but there's no way he could've predicted how much power I've been granted.

"Right now, lady, an army of my sentinels, sentinels that can fly almost as fast as their war cruisers, is expected to act as fodder for the enemy.

"The rest of Gozadalus' soldiers anticipated the threat posed by the Four Cities' Fifty Cannons. We know this because their ships have circumnavigated them and are on their way to flank the Moonstone Fleet. They want to hit us where it hurts, right where the President's supposed to be rallying his men against them."

"So, both sides have sacrificed some of their own for... tricks?"

"For strategy, old lady!"

"What did you sa—"

"Every move was made in order to test the abilities of the opposing side. Gozadalus still has land units heading in to deal with the Fifty Cannons, though their success isn't likely. The heart of the battle lies in the war cruiser fleets and enemy edromedas that attack the President's flagship head on. That's why everything depends on me now, a god created by the founders of the Citadel...

"You see, I've more than enough sentinels to outflank those currently en route to confront the leader of our nation. The question is... should I?"

"What do you mean, 'should' you, Moti? Of course you should! If you can surround those who think they've outwitted us, then you can cut off the head of the serpent—shatter their morale, right?"

"Correct. That's one way of looking at it."

"Maxwell, what kind of devious shit have you cooked up?"

He blushed, looking down as he spoke, "That's not my name. My name is 'Moti,' remember, and I'm the one who made this decision. Listen:

"If my sentinels struck as intended, we would prevent the enemy from gaining any further advantages against us. We'd crush them without a doubt.

"And then, after it was all said and done—after the dumb adults had their stupid digressions that led to nothing but idle chatter—the Dawn Bureau would be dismantled."

"What? How's that?"

"Whether or not I help the President, his reign has ended. Once this skirmish is over with, the Democratic Council will make radical changes to the Federation government—and one of those changes is the obsoletion of my role entirely."

"You mean that you'll no longer be the big boss?"

"No, lady. I mean that the Dawn Bureau will be federally defunded and likely privatized in favor of the Ministry of Beautification; they'll delete me out of existence."

"You've got to be joking, kid. They'd leave matters of the state up to those idiots?"

"Yes. Those idiots."

Although quite nervous, Moti forced himself to look deep into her eyes as he explained what he was about to do:

"I analyzed all possible scenarios—created real-time visualizations of multiple outcomes. In each one, I was disappointed in some way or another, but I didn't know why. When I reviewed them a second time, I understood.

"Commander Aaliyah," he spoke confidently, "it is the Ministry which wields the most power in this country. My sentinels nearly outnumber Enrec's soldier population, except my soldiers can't feel. They don't get tired. They don't get hurt or sustain psychological traumas. I realized that my sentinels could decide more than just the outcome of a stupid fight."

"Moti, what are you about to do?"

6

Scourge

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

"You let my men get killed, Amour Bali! Why didn't you enact the plan earlier—you're a double agent, a bad man!"

"Bad man?"

Amour scoffed while speaking to General Kozas through his Kom Cell.

"Well, that might be true, but that all depends on your definition of evil. If you're watching now, Piss General, the Gozadalus have started closing in around the President's personal fleet. They smartly had their edromedas lead the charge, so I think they've got the rest of it taken care of, buddy."

"How dare you... you scum!"

"Uh, I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

Amour clenched both of his fists while watching three of the Gozadalus' mechanized walkers fall to the Fifty Cannons. From both the North and South, however, swarms of black emerged just as the Sun began its descent and the black moon became much fainter.

"I did all of this for you," Amour uttered hatefully under his breath.

"You're a liar. You could've saved them, and you chose not to. You are an evil man, Amour Bali."

"Moron! You're upset because your meager army couldn't hang with the big boys of a veteran fighting force? The Gozadalus have survived for years; your little 'party' was nothing to them, and that's why they used you as a fucking tool, Kozas. Do you think anyone with your little, pea-sized brain could ever handle being at the helm of this operation?"

"..."

"Oh, that's right: you were my tool, too—did you ever think about that?"

"I won't forget this, Mr. Bali. I curse your name."

"Excuse me, you what?"

"When I'm finished severing Tavon's head from his corpse, I will come for you. Amour Bali, you will answer for the destruction of my people."

7

The Moonstone Fleet

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

The sentinels never arrived to reinforce the Death Officer squadron encircling the President's zekokon: the prime centerpiece of the strongest aerial fighting corps, the Moonstone Fleet.

Their war cruisers and zekokons were mostly translucent save for streaks of gentle blue closely matching the color of the sky. While the bulk of the forces belonging to Gozadalus surged toward the President's location, exactly nine zekokons, acting as squadron leaders, exposed dozens of cannon systems through square panels that fell away just as a myriad of blasts screamed out from the grand fleet.

Several of the enemy swarms were torn apart, yet they continued outside of their original formations, shooting through whatever they could in order to reach the President's personal zekokon. Among others, one of the Death Officers assigned as part of Derek's exterior protection detail fell from a suicidal charge he failed to react to in time.

Despite a heavy shadow of despair falling over them subsequent to the realization that Maxwell's forces would never come to aid them, the Federation's Death Officers were provided with ample opportunities to demonstrate their usefulness.

One, piloting a zekokon on her own, phased the vessel through space and time; it flashed through the atmosphere to collide with and batter the enemies around the area in which it abruptly appeared. From her new position, she fired the zekokon's cannons to strike down an organized rank of edromedas.

Another Death Officer increased the temperature around a dense formation of Gozadalus fighters, burning out their engines and causing them to spiral toward the World Below.

Two Officers had easily managed to hold off the initial fighters headed for the President's location, but this was only the beginning. The followers of the Gozadalus struck at their rival with everything they had left, each willing to give their lives just to reach the President himself.

The Moonstone Fleet baited them in, and a third Death Officer summoned forth a bolt of lightning broad enough to annihilate yet another enemy squadron. With the combined powers of these three, supplemented by reinforcements who circled around from the front, the Dawn Federation had forced their opponents into a final stand. While the rest of the Gozadalus' aerial fighters soared to their deaths, either crashing against the side of the President's zekokon or exploding before they'd gotten there, the grime-covered land units they'd sent to destroy the Fifty Cannons began to fall, one-by-one, against the sheer numbers deployed by the Federation.

All of a sudden, and amidst the havoc wreaked by the stronger faction, each shield protecting its respective ivory pillar began to fade in a clear sequence.

\-----------

"It's time," Amour said to his butler. "When the President's flagship covers the Sun..."

\-----------

"When the President's flagship covers the Sun,

"Shoot it down.

"Shoot it down, everyone."

\-----------

The first cannon blast tore through the underside of Shining Hope, the President's personal zekokon.

Before anyone from the Federation could react, a series of blazing warheads created paths of carnage as they incinerated war cruisers and on through to strike at Shining Hope's exterior.

More than ten cannons fired next—right as the President's zekokon came close to passing over them—and thus ten craters were rent through the vessel's armor, at last setting it aflame and simultaneously altering its trajectory. While the Federation's aerial units flew in the direction of the Fifty Cannons, unsure of how to proceed, the warping Death Officer from before propelled her zekokon into a position several miles ahead of the President's plunging ship. The other zekokons followed its example, forming a loose barrier of defense against Shining Hope, although its cause appeared lost.

In spite of its unavoidable descent into destruction, someone from the inside attempted to steer the President's zekokon in a particular direction. Shining Hope approached its original rendezvous point, barely evading further strikes from the Fifty Cannons as its pilot struggled to land it atop Rumi Mountain. When it became obvious that the zekokon itself wouldn't be able to clear the plateau, the pilot changed its trajectory again.

Shining Hope fell to the World Below.

8

Honor

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

Those onboard Shining Hope who hadn't been burned alive or knocked unconscious anxiously raced through all four stories of the grand zekokon. Amidst the panic, soldiers desperately sought out smaller escape cruisers housed on the lowest two levels—those which hadn't been destroyed, that is.

As everyone fled around Communications Staff Commander Sevi Baron, seeing to his lord's safety became his primary objective. Those who'd reached the office of Staff Commander typically held great admiration for the President, who regarded them amicably in kind.

It was this intrinsic loyalty that pushed Sevi to locate Dereikaund. Although the zekokon rocked and tilted around him, the President hovered while in a meditative stance, legs crossed atop each thigh. He clasped his hands between them and kept his eyes closed as Shining Hope burned around him. At Dereikaund's side, Sevi noticed a tantō floating level with his waist.

Without another thought, the Staff Commander raced toward the blade; he reached out, and—

Dereikaund grabbed his arm and clutched it so firmly that it nearly broke, eyes remaining closed as he did so.

Sevi fell to his knees, then he was tossed onto his side by the zekokon shuddering once more. Derek let him go and proceeded to lecture him:

"The future has come to pass in the way that it should, Commander Sevi."

"Mr. President, you have to listen t—"

"Be silent, idiot! Can't you see that the enemy planned for this to happen all along? If you glance out that window right now, you'll see our men being ambushed by Gozadalus reinforcements as they try to escape.

"Both I and the enemy predicted this outcome. Were I to be backed into a corner, they'd wait for me to try to flee like a coward and then pluck me from the skies as if I were a fool. No, Sevi," Derek shook his head firmly and grunted, "this is the way I've chosen for myself."

"You can still escape, Mr. President—no one would dare touch your private cruiser!"

"Of course they wouldn't, Sevi, it's a golden cruiser! The enemy would have their work cut out for them, wouldn't they?"

"I apologize, Sir."

"And that's why, just as this piece of garbage implodes upon contact with the surface of the earth, it is you who will escape in that golden cruiser, right when the enemy's convinced that there will be no survivors."

"How can you expect me to leave you behind? I've more respect for you than—well, than anyone I've ever met. I can't just take your place, Sir! This country needs—"

President Derek, the leader of the Dawn Federation, plunged the tantō into the right side of his lower abdomen.

"Mr. President! What are you—"

"Quiet, Commander!" Derek's head spasmed; he trembled as he expertly drew a horizontal, bloody path along his stomach. "Use the last cruiser t-to escape, moron! As for me..."

Derek gritted his teeth and withdrew the blood-soaked tantō. He plunged it into the flesh right below his sternum, then he pushed down and cried, "I must pay for my failures as a ruler.

"As a father...

"As a man...

"I've one last favor to ask of you, S-Sevi."

Derek slumped over while struggling to keep his organs from spilling out; though he'd disemboweled himself, the President returned to his original hovering position and held back any further emotion.

"Commander Sevi... cut off my head. Please hurry... it hurts."

Sevi hesitated, too stunned to act as his world collapsed around him.

"PLEASE!" Derek screamed prior to gurgling blood.

Sevi made his move:

He withdrew his katana from the sheath at his side, advanced toward the leader of the Dawn Federation, and lunged, aiming one precise blow at President Dereikaund's neck...
9

Good And Evil

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

"He's dead," Aaliyah spoke while lost in thought, "The President... I couldn't see if he escaped."

Across from Aaliyah, Maxwell's middle-aged personality had taken dominance over their collective. This form of Maxwell was a stocky man with curly, red hair and a full beard.

"My Eyes haven't detected his signature war cruiser, but, then again, that might've been destroyed as well. We don't know; the cannon warheads could've already incinerated him."

"What happened to Moti?"

"I've a low tolerance for children, miss. Moti's arrogance and brash behavior can compromise operations sometimes."

"So did he—"

"No. I already know what you're thinking, but this was a plan we all agreed on, and I was the one who came up with it."

"That's what he said."

"Moti is a child, lady."

"He also patronizingly called me 'lady,' like a rude ass."

"I'm sorry for his behavior."

"But not your own?" Aaliyah eyed him suspiciously. "You and your 'super genius' buddies might've just gotten the President of the Dawn Federation killed."

"You're right," he replied, "and we're pulling our forces from all current conflicts."

"You—whoever you are," Aaliyah raised her voice, "why are you doing this? How could this be of any benefit to the Citadel's future, Maxwell?"

"My name is Cascendo, miss, the best personality, and I brought you here to discuss the future, not the war at hand.

"It should be obvious to you what's happening out there now that the President's flagship has been brought down. The tide of battle's changed; the morale of the other side's been boosted significantly.

"In the Lower-City, my Eyes have been removed. Our leader's fallen, and the Federation is under assault from three directions. Commander Aaliyah, it is up to us to add a fourth to the equation."

"A fourth? You want to withhold mindless drones and continue letting innocent humans die for political reasons?"

"You've got it." Cascendo smirked. "Well, would you look at that; you're pretty bright, aren't you?"

"You need to explain this to me further, Max—Cascendo. Why show such pettiness toward the Federation when you should be keeping what just occurred from having happened in the first place!"

"You're upset, I know. So am I."

"Really?"

"Miss," Cascendo leaned forward as he spoke candidly, "the abolition of the Bureau and its sentinels would leave the Federation too vulnerable to our enemies. If the Democratic Council is given full control, they'll try to face what's ahead alone.

"They need access to my mind, Aaliyah. To my true selves: Moti, Elios, and I, who've carried them all this way on my own. Look now, Commander; my Eyes have proven themselves helpful again."

Aaliyah did as he said and froze when recognizing who she saw within the Unik board's reflection.

"It's him," she grunted.

"Correct."—Maxwell's disjointed face appeared amidst the convergence of his three personalities—"THIS WAS MY SECONDARY PURPOSE.

"COMMANDER AALIYAH, THE SOURCES OF THE GROWING DEVIANCE WITHIN THE CITADEL BIDED TIME UNTIL THIS DEVIANCE COULD NO LONGER BE CONTAINED. AS YOU NOW SEE, ALL HAVE BEEN BROUGHT TO LIGHT WHO DESIRED TO INVITE FURTHER DESTRUCTION UPON THE FEDERATION. WHEN THIS ENEMY WAS INITIALLY IDENTIFIED, I CHOSE TO WATCH HIS PLANS UNFOLD UNTIL THE VERY MOMENT THEY BENEFITTED A GREATER CAUSE.

"THIS MAN STANDS BEFORE YOU NOW IN THE MIRROR, THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE GASPUL NATIVE PARTY'S RISE TO POWER. COMMANDER, LET US STUDY THE MAD HARBINGER. THIS IS THE MAN WHO MURDERED THE PRESIDENT."
10

Livid

\-----------

Janelle

\-----------

As it had been in Amour's nightmare, the world was on fire.

Blood-stained skies outlined a hulking mass of metal and magma as Shining Hope descended several meters before reaching the mountain peak.

"Something's off..." said Amour.

Just as he did, he heard the approach of two more soldiers.

"Mr. Thume!" he shouted.

Two gunmen appeared behind them. Amour's butler sprang into action before either of the gunmen could react; he threw his knee into the gut of the shooter on his left, then he snapped his target's neck.

The second shooter aimed his way, but Mr. Thume took hold of his rifle and shoved it to the side as the Medical Staff Commander, Olendez Ishir, fired his rounds hopelessly into the distance. With one rapid movement, Thume broke Olendez' arm at the elbow, and then he wrenched the assault rifle from his grasp while forcing his head into the ground.

Amour strode up the Staff Commander and promptly kicked him in the face.

"Where the fuck is the President?" he shouted.

Olendez covered his bleeding nose and refused to respond; this further angered Amour, who generated dark claws from his left arm and hovered them close to the officer's face. When his index claw was mere inches away, Olendez shrieked. Small particles broke off from both his nose and lips, virtually rotting into nothing.

"Why hasn't he shown his fucking face, huh? Where's his goddamn cruise—"

"If you don't know, neither do I!" Olendez yelled loudly, forcing Amour to back off.

"You came here to meet him, didn't you?" Amour advanced. "Like the other one."

"Y-Yes! What did you do with him?"

Amour slashed through Olendez' vertebrae without another word. He then turned his attention to the shockwave which followed once Shining Hope made contact with the earth.

\-----------

Multiple shockwaves preceded harsh rumbling; blood and fire mixed and disappeared behind smoke, behind sounds that pierced the eardrums of everyone near to the crash. Shining Hope struck the unforgiving earth, and bright flames became giant, crimson ghosts that consumed all in the maelstrom of destruction.

Overhead, both the Gozadalus and the rest of the Federation's fleets began to retreat. While some followers stayed behind to continue launching suicide strikes against the Federation, Enrec still retained strength in numbers and overpowered any further guerilla attacks launched against them.

Finally, amongst the rubble created from Shining Hope, a golden vessel emerged to soar through the wreckage.

\-----------

Amour, who'd fallen to his knees upon seeing his dream unfulfilled, abruptly stood to his feet. He moved closer toward the edge of the cliff and blocked the setting Sun from his view as he looked out at the President's true flagship.

"Mr. Thume," he exclaimed breathlessly, "he's come at last! This is too much—good Avva it's overpowering, like never before. Mr. Thume, my friend, it's been so long since I've experienced what I feel now! If only you could comprehend how important this is to me.

"The Derek's legacy is at its end. At last, I get to kill him. I really get to kill him!" Amour shrieked, subconsciously covering his mouth in a show of embarrassment. "I can't believe how excited I am to meet him. I'll get to shake his hand, look him in the eye, and fucking stab him in it."

A tear escaped Amour's right eye as the majestic, golden cruiser loomed ever nearer.

"I am the son he discarded, here to witness as his own people discard him. How ironic—and how my priorities have changed since hunting this strange man for so long. I think that perhaps, Mr. Thume, I'll resign from a life of politics. Settle down with this last victory. Oh, here he comes! It's the ruler of the Federation himself!"

Amour shuddered with horrific enthusiasm as the war cruiser soared by him and hovered over the center of the plateau briefly. Seconds later and it descended steadily until it landed without any apparent issues. Amour was quick to approach; he waited outside the only door panel leading into the cruiser's interior.

Out stepped two Enrec soldiers and someone else dressed in formal attire.

Right as the soldiers touched the ground, Mr. Thume gunned them down. A stray bullet pierced the right leg of the Communications Staff Commander and caused it to snap evenly once Sevi Baron landed on his feet. He cried out in agony as he collapsed onto his left side—

Mr. Thume was there to pick him up.

Sevi shrieked louder once being forced to address Amour, who extended his claws while eyeing his prey.

"Where's the President, old man? Why'd you come out here so bloody?"

Through painful breaths, the Staff Commander tried to reply:

"The P-President... k-killed himself."

"What? Ha!" Amour chuckled. "No. Impossible—he wouldn't do something like that."

Another moment passed, then...

Amour kicked Sevi in the chest; Sevi gasped before coughing up blood.

"Where's the President, fuckhead? Is he hiding in there like the stupid bitch of a coward he is? Is he, old man?"

"Please... j-just kill me."

"Kill you?"

Amour pressed his foot into Sevi's right leg and amputated it. Before the Staff Commander could cry out again, Amour grabbed him by his throat as he simultaneously retracted his claws.

"You're lying. The President wouldn't kill himself—this would all be for nothing then! How do you know?"

"I... I c-cut off his head."

"You what?" Amour's grip tightened. "You say you cut off my father's head, did you? Why did you do that? Why, moron?"

But it was too late. Sevi began fading from the conscious world...

So Amour woke him by rending open his chest.

"Why did you kill my father?"

While the Staff Commander began screaming in agony once more, Amour was driven to tears by his own line of questioning.

Sevi, sensing that answering truthfully was the only way he'd ever have hope of dying peacefully, continued with all the strength he had left:

"Your father's plan failed. He lost. And so he paid the price—" Sevi broke off into a cough.

Sevi started to recover, to speak again. Amour sliced his face into individual halves.

"You killed the President," he said as the Sun set behind mountains of debris. "I made it this far. My dream, the one I believed in and chased after for so many years, it all came down to this meeting. From the moment I killed the bastard who raised me, it was always him...

"I can't believe it," Amour became despondent as he lamented, "it's not fair. Not fair at all. Derek let himself burn with the wreckage. I won. I landed a solid victory against my real father, and, somehow, that motherfucker still managed to score against me.

"He must've known."

Amour grimaced while looking over the gold cruiser.

"Search inside it, Mr. Thume. Now."

The butler did as was bid of him, and, to Amour's dismay, nothing remained of the Dawn Federation's last king.

"He knew," Amour said again. "Father knew, and he made sure I wasn't provided with the satisfaction of seeing his corpse for myself.

"I destroyed my father's empire, but he robbed me of any human contact with himself. Even up until the very end of his life."

\------------

PART TWELVE

The Fall

\------------
1

Mr. Thume

\------------

Amour

\------------

I'm close to losing it. I can't stop shaking—can't stop feeling slighted in some way.

My butler and I make it to the nearest checkpoint, where we're both asked to present forms of identification.

"It's only proper procedure," the fuckhead tries to tell me.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that doesn't matter in this context,"—he points his filthy finger through the automated driver's side—"I'm gonna need to see some form of identification from your friend, too. Security's tight at the moment. Say, is he all right back there?"

Mr. Thume grabs his throat. He pulls the inspecting officer inside the window and keeps him from reaching his firearm.

"Get his gun," I order.

And he does as I say with his other hand.

The officer grunts, and the sound of that shit makes me angrier. I put a round in his head, then I help Thume get his body inside our vehicle before we pull off.

Once it looks like we're clear, Mr. Thume drops the fool's corpse from out of the left rear window. I watch with fondness as another obstacle falls along my path. Normally I wouldn't be so hateful—I'm just sick of feeling slighted. Some thought keeps gnawing at the back of my head. What am I missing here—what haven't I come to understand?

All that's clear is an impending need to find her, to reunite with the sole human who loves me in the entire disgusting universe. Zola volunteered her invisible hand in this, ordered fifty cannons to bring the President to shame at my hands. She finished what I began, supported what's now...

Hmm. What was all this to me? Not so long ago I left behind a clan of demons, had a distinct vision which I wanted to create as quickly as possible. After all that, my head was filled with Citadel television, politics, fashion, money, money...

Money.

Deep down, there's something I'm missing—right when I've gained everything. I've won, dad. You might've left me behind, in your fucking past, but I've surpassed your expectations. Now, the city's mine to shape however I like.

\------------

The Upper-City's usually not so overrun by Zone cops, but the Federation's tried to keep everybody together in order to prevent the next big disaster that happens to be on its way—and this one didn't even come from me!

In fact, someone else who hated the President just as much as I did made things easy, though they're also the reason why both Ministry and Enrec cruisers now patrol alongside each other in pairs. More important to the Council than anything else is the protection of its most esteemed citizens—not to mention those who vote the most often—and so Mr. Thume and I pass by innumerable cruisers on patrol while on the way home.

Maintenance crews have started to flood the Upper-City, all the way down the Monorail and even into Zone A. It's nighttime, and the Upper-City comes alight with sapphire-hued sconces complemented by neon-blue projections of both sculptures as well as historical events. About a hundred miles from the Bali Estate, it all begins to look like a real city again, not a stain left behind by a rancid abomination. The blue tint given to the surrounding skyscrapers and hotels feels somewhat comforting; bitter hatred fades to... well, just bitterness.

I contemplate how I'll capitalize on my father's death from here, and—

I hear police sirens. Blue and white lights up behind us, and, deep down, I sense that something's fucked up. The automated pilot's been following all traffic protocols—I've watched him!—no, this is something else. If their sirens get close enough and this fucking bot detects it, he'll bring this cruiser to a stop. I've got to do something.

With that in mind, I use my painting claws to tear apart the body of the driver, then I kick out his remains while gaining control. Because I acted fast, I'm able to keep the cruiser from slowing down any further; instead, I accelerate as smoothly as possible, trying to build up speed—hopefully I can turn well enough in this damn thing to avoid wrecking before I get home.

Regardless, I soon find out that it doesn't matter how fast I try to go—they're both right behind me: a Knight partnered with a military grunt, both in separate vehicles.

When noticing that the Knight seems to be leading the chase, I realize I've just one option left from here on out:

"Thume!" I shout to the stupid zombie in the backseat. "Do you think you can serve your master one last time? If you do, I'll set you free."

Mr. Thume nods almost too enthusiastically, which causes me to rethink what I had in mind if he really wants to go so badly. Bah! Nevermind—

"Mr. Thume, it's been wild, buddy. I'm so glad we had the chance to get to know each other, but I'm afraid that this is farewell. Mr. Thume...

"Kill them."

My faithful servant doesn't skip a beat! Why, he's already crawling out of the window behind me when the Knight moves close enough to begin taking fire.

Mr. Thume—the resilient!—absorbs several rounds and takes them in stride while keeping his focus. My servant launches himself through the window. His body flies directly behind me—

Right before Mr. Thume crashes through the front windshield of the Knight's cruiser and kills the pilot on contact. I know he's done exactly as I've asked when the Ministry vessel plunges toward a chasm that leads into the Mid-City, sending both my strongest enemy and my greatest tool into the abyss.
2

Distrust

\------------

Amour

\------------

A few blocks away from my own home, I see my face broadcasted across a huge monitor. I can't hear what's being said, but the fact that I'm up there's gotta mean bad news.

That grunt's been joined by what looks like a Zone cop, but they've both slowed while remaining in pursuit. Up ahead, I can see the spires peeking out above the towers of the Bali Estate. It sounds like there are more sirens blaring at me from behind now—and that's just it:

They've been waiting for me.

Like they selected Tavon as a target, so too has a price been put on my head—but... but there's no way the Federation could've possibly linked me to that demon's rampage!

Fuck all that. If they come at me, I'll make them regret it. For now, I need to get to Zola. I must get to my wife. If everything is really just going to collapse...

Nevermind. There's no time to hesitate.

I brake, swerve, and clutch the wheel tightly while trying to bring my cruiser to a stop in front of the main manor. I smell smoke as the vehicle's exhaust system makes a sound like it's imploding from the inside. A second passes, then I'm rocked against the side door as fumes burst from underneath the cruiser and propel me close to an entrance made of netite.

I roll out of the car, press a button on the screen of my Kom Cell, and cause the structure to vanish in order for me to land comfortably.

Once I'm on my feet, I reactivate the netite entryway. I utilize both the wall and my parked cruiser as cover in order to confront my pursuers directly.

First, one vehicle rears its head and produces two Zone cops who've forged on past their friends. Several more vessels follow behind them.

But I'm feeling stubborn. I levy an assault rifle I took from the battlefield their way.

"Amour Bali," one of those nobodies shrieks, "drop your weapon! You're under arrest!"

I rest my arms at my sides and ask, "For what? What did I do, idiot?"

Both of the nobodies steal one dimwitted look at each other, then the fuckhead on the right opens his mouth: "You're a traitor—a damn terrorist!"

This repulsive stain has the nerve to point at me as he goes on: "You're the reason why our President was murdered! You and the goddamned Gozadalus!"

I'm conflicted. Should I sigh here, or...

Hmm. Well, I guess that would make the most sense.

I shoot the speaker in the face, then I gun down his buddy. I can't see much blood spray from where I'm at—I'm sure it looks cool and all, but more of them have started landing and taking their stands against me.

Let's see: if the Knights use their arsenal, I've no chance. But, dear Avva, mother, this is too much fun!

I try to shoot a third cop in the head, but, somehow, I miss. My shot's just off by a little bit, and then he ducks in time to gain full cover. I refocus my aim somewhere else—

And something hot sears through my arm. It hurts more and more, but I keep my focus on the gunfight as the fuckers keep coming. I use the wall for cover, shoot wildly at them to gain some suppression, then I sprint inside the manor's main lobby. While climbing a flight of steps, the gun gets too heavy in my arms—it hurts to carry. I leave it behind and draw my pistol instead.

They've got me surrounded, and I'm not sure I'm equipped to deal with all of them on my own. Zol's a nice weapon, but I spent my whole life bending it to my will as an artist, not a fighter.

That woman from before, the one who handed me my ass, she's not so different from Zola. Both of them are intelligent, and so I believe that my Zola knows what to do from here.

I reach the second floor, and that's when I see that the hidden passage to my chamber of art's been exposed. I never imagined that anyone else could know the method of getting in but me; of all places, it's not a bad spot to die. I rush inside the private museum as I hear my pursuers closing in.

Everything appears the same, neatly arranged in place. Although some might think it reprehensible, Zola shares my admiration for sculptures of the flesh. It began with simple murders, practice hits I carried out while struggling in the Mid-City. From there, I graduated from physiological manipulation to a superior occupation: art itself. I think this is what made her fall in love with someone like me; this is why she stayed.

Along the wall, my paintings all expose what the Federation's modern society has tried so hard to hide. These paintings are gifts, a series of captured souls who can never exist except inside of the emotions which affect us the most: fear, anger, sadness, trust, and, rarely, love. Love itself is the hardest to capture, not when the road you've built to your success is paved with distrust.

Even so, the center of this wall—where I always intended my masterpiece to reside—has been taken up by a figure tall enough to dominate the room as the ultimate centerpiece.

A beautiful woman, perhaps the most beautiful who might ever exist, with features illuminated by a white gown and headdress.

She's reaching out to me.

Zola...
3

Love

\------------

Amour

\------------

"This isn't what I'd envisioned it looking like when it was finished..."

Zola, my beautiful wife, entered a grand painting I'd just started on her own. She stepped into my incomplete world and changed... a lot. Actually, she changed everything. But, with my dream of crushing Derek dismissed as just that, I'm not angry with her.

She did this on her own. Zola prepared this place for us: a green field with wisteria trees and lotus blossoms all around. The sky's a silver color, and warm, gentle raindrops descend from above.

"Is it not to your liking?"

Zola locks her arms around the back of my neck and looks into my eyes with a smile.

"I... I don't know," I say to her honestly.

With her, there are no lies.

Zola backs away, looking a little offended. "What do you mean?"

"I know you created it for us, Zola, and it's beautiful—I understand. I love you."

I take a moment to breathe, then I go on, "Things are confusing for me right now—I mean, do you understand what I've done? What I'm guilty of?"

"What we're guilty of."

Though my anxiety's at its worst, Zola manages to smirk.

"You're right." I bow my head in admission.

Just seeing her smile calms me down.

"Zola, honey, I think I messed up pretty badly. I got caught up in hatred—I really hated him... I hated him more than any enemy I could've ever had, and now he's gone. We did everything right, up to the most minute detail—"

"Honey, honey!" Zola stops my rant with a simple hug, then she says, "We can't worry about whether or not we made mistakes, Amour."

"But we'll have to leave sooner or later for food and water. We can't just—"

"Honey," Zola cuts me off.

She pauses for a second, then she kisses me. I embrace her tightly; I feel like I'm the one who fucked us over. I was too bloodthirsty.

"Amour," she says, "do you really love me?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'm serious, Amour. After all this time, after all the killing you did—just for sport—did you actually love me?"

"Yes. I always have, darling."

She pulls the trigger.

\------------

It's love. That's what's been gnawing at me. It's so deceptively simple.

In a void of meaningless action, expanding until all reaches oblivion, I've enjoyed the peaks of human experience. It's been a hell of a time, and Zola stood by the wayside as I rushed after a delusional when I should've stopped. I had everything, but my goal was the same; I thought it made sense.

Yet, while I've moved through my life with intense hatred, another human found me interesting enough to humor my bullshit. This human accepted what I was, then she went deeper. We talked about the pain we'd endured together; we became friends, and, later, she became the only one who could ever know who I was. Not just that, but Zola bothered to keep all that information in her head while she supported a mad dream.

And, in this dream, we would rule the unwashed together.

\------------

I can't feel the bullet, but I'm instantly knocked onto my ass. My hands instinctively reach for my stomach; I expect the pain to follow shortly, but—

Zola takes up my line of sight and kisses me; at the same time, she shoves a wad of parchment into the bullet wound. When we make eye contact, I can see that she's crying.

She shoves the bloody gun into my hand and manipulates my forefinger over the trigger while aiming the barrel her way. I've enough sense to stop her from firing before it's too late, but Zola's fighting me with everything she's got!

"Zola!" I yell with all the rage I've left in my body. "Get the fuck back! I'm not going to kill you! I won't—I WON'T!"

Through tears, she says to me, "I used my zol to take away any pain you might feel before you died, a-and...

"I've saved the last bullet for myself!" Zola screams, getting stronger by the moment.

Right when I think she'll overpower me, she lets up. Keeping her hands on mine, she sobs. Seeing her so sad puts me in the same state. If I'm crying, I can't feel it.

"Amour," she pleads, "don't leave me behind to be taken in by them! We shared the same victory, and so we'll endure the same loss together. Honey, you have to do it.

"Pull the trigger, Amour, and we can die together in paradise. We've won, dear. The rest is up to history."
4

Magnum Opus

\------------

Janelle

\------------

When a task force consisting of Dawn Knights, Enrec soldiers, and Zone police swarmed through the Bali Estate, they found no traces of human life remaining. This was disturbing to the greater public, who were told that the fugitive, Amour Bali, had been cornered somewhere from which there was no real escape. Because of the mysterious disappearance of both he and his wife, Zola Bali, a famous writer, conspiracy theories were spread about their continued existence within the Citadel.

For years to come, citizens would tell stories of a serial killer duo, a man and woman who murdered their ways into the higher echelons of the Citadel and funded a terrorist plot to unknown ends.

When the Bali Estate was stormed, cleared, and investigated by the Ministry, much of Amour's legacy was destroyed. This increased speculation over the nature of his actions.

Members of the assaulting task force were appalled by what they'd discovered within one of the building's private chambers: amputated limbs attached to torsos and painted; heads rotted and redecorated; organs preserved or otherwise desecrated.

Above Amour Bali's abominable creations, there hung at least eighty portraits. Those who'd seen them found themselves unable to destroy any of Amour's detailed depictions. Each painting appeared entirely too realistic, and all were undoubtedly authentic.

At the room's center, a grand portrait depicted the final moments of two strangers, both of whom had sustained mortal injuries. When this very painting was seen for the first time, those who viewed it were struck with a profound sense of loss.

The centerpiece of the room, of the Bali Estate itself, was the masterpiece Amour had begun in anticipation of using President Dereikaund as his subject; however, once his quest of malice had concluded, he found the weight of his own actions much too heavy to bear.

In the end, Amour rested his life away in the arms of his wife, who'd predicted their fate before him. The wiser of the two, Zola Bali, held her husband's dying form in her arms as red flowed from her stomach. Though tears fell from her eyes, Zola's face revealed one distinct expression: gratitude.
\-------------

PART THIRTEEN

The Assassination

\-------------
1

Supremacy

\-------------

Aaliyah

\-------------

"I can't say that I agree with what you've done, Maxwell. I sat back because I wasn't sure how I could stop you—and, partially, because I thought you only believed in justice."

Moti abruptly takes over the conversation, piping mad from across the table.

"My army of sentinels is the Federation's greatest military asset. If the Council approved it, I could take back the Four Cities as well as all of Gaspul, lady."

"You say that, and yet you betrayed your own government."

"You've got it backwards," he replies. "I am the new government."

"So what," I shrug, "all this is about control? You want to duke it out politically with the Democratic Council? You know they'll out you as a robot, right?"

"Uh huh." he nods smugly while crossing his arms over his chest. "But they'll also see me as the sole manipulator behind the Citadel's best weapon. It seems you've forgotten about our situation in the Lower-City—after the loss we've just taken, the citizens will look to any benevolent force to save them from what might be lurking down there. They're gonna need us, lady, way more than they know."

"I see."

I've got to take a moment to comprehend what's truly going on around me. Although I've been holed up in this digital world of his, the world outside's experiencing nothing but turmoil. The Federation just lost their leader, and the two of us (or four) watched him perish like it was the season finale of an Upper-City drama.

"You could've kept Amour from accomplishing his messed-up schemes, Maxwell—"

"'Moti!'"

"Ugh! Fine. 'Moti,' did your collective of personalities all agree to letting Amour Bali do whatever he wanted?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But how could you allow him the opportunity to harm so many? Moti, don't you think that makes you partly responsible through basic negligence?"

"Responsible for what, miss?" he asks like he doesn't already know, irritating me further.

"Amour's partnership with Noboros led to that monster destroying half of the Upper-City! If you'd stopped him sooner—"

"You speak as though I can read everyone's minds—the negotiations you speak of occurred within Zone H. My Eyes had already disappeared from that location."

"That doesn't free you of your natural obligation to prevent murderers from killing people!"

"Hmph."

Moti considers my words, blinks, then he studies the empty screen below the table.

"From everything you've told me so far, are you sure that President Derek was a 'just' ruler? Do you think he was a good man?"

"I've never personally met him, so how would I know?"

"It's simple," he says. "You know a person by what they do. Actions are good indicators of who someone is, of what their moral compass will generally tell them to do within a given scenario.

"If you believe that Amour was a bad human, then you must also believe the same of Derek."

"And why is that?"

"Dummy!" he scowls. "Because they've both killed countless people, citizens and foreigners alike! The Democratic Council was a necessary change to what was the dictatorship before it, but neither of those paths are sufficient."

Maxwell's appearance switches to Elios, who continues sternly:

"There is such a thing as a true dictatorship, one free of human error and, because of this, devoid of harmful bureaucratic mistakes."

"So, fascism is what you want?"

"Under my 'true dictatorship,' fascism cannot exist, for an operating system does not prioritize personal bias nor bigotry. The goal is statistical improvement created by a machine designed for human good. This is what the Council does not understand and, ultimately, why the Bureau was developed. In case of impending disaster, I exist to bring the Citadel into a new era, one devoid of deviance."

"And one where I won't be helping you." I stand and turn to leave.

"You'll find that you don't have a choice in the matter, dear. Amour was considered a secondary priority on the Federation's list of targets; Tavon's classification is higher than his, therefore the search for him will be much more relentless.

"I'm afraid that even I've been asked to deploy Enfilade in order to support the ongoing efforts to capture him. Seeing how I've retained the bulk of my forces by consolidating power, it looks like I can spare my best troops to take care of the Federation's special targets on their own. How does that sound to you?"

Listening to him keeps me from going any farther. I know I should continue walking, risk losing everything if it means getting away from a monster potentially worse than the Bali devils.

I stay in place, though I know it's futile. Tavon's fate is not looking so good right now, so I should let him go.

I should.

"Why don't you come take a look," Elios says. "A former agent's gone rogue on us, although we both know that you fired him long before he kidnapped one of our associates on a reckless mission.

"Aden Kaust, persistent as ever, has stalked your friend for days, and thus I've stalked him out of curiosity. In his travels, Commander Aaliyah, Kaust has managed to force Tavon into the darkest corner of the Mid-City, where you began a journey of your own.

"Think carefully on what my consolidation of the Bureau's power means for your future specifically, Commander. Think, wait, and watch as hundreds steadily close in on your friend's location. Once I've deployed Enfilade, he'll be out of time."
2

Viper

\-------------

Aden Kaust

\-------------

It's been hours since we lost his trail. The day's just about over, with the government breaking around us, but I've got to find him again. I can't afford to pay Sanori for another morning of surveillance.

If I can apprehend Tavon, I might stand a chance of saving my job while also exposing Aaliyah as an accomplice. My partner and I could become the ones who restore order to the mess that the Federation's become, and that's worth going on—at least for me.

I won't let him try to talk me into turning in early tonight; I'll ignore him if he tries it, and I'll keep driving. I'll—wait a minute—I think there's someone up ahead...

Some dude I can't see very well from so far away climbs into the only other cruiser on this street.

"You see that?" I glance over at Sanori.

"Eh," he brushes me off, "I'd let it go. Probably just somebody who lives here."

This fool irks me—"Nobody lives here, Sanori. Not anymore."

He leans forward and gestures for me to slow down as I approach.

"If it's gotta be this way, then let me handle this one."

"Huh? Why are you going alo—"

"Hey, buddy, you've been kinda on edge for a while now." he condescendingly pats me on the back.

"Don't touch me again."

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Sanori exclaims. "If that's just a regular civilian, who seems to be politely waiting for us already, then what they don't need is a desperate detective."

"Desperate?"

"Come on now," he winks, "we both know that this is pointless. The fuckin' President's dead, Kaust. The government's got men on the job to do what we do—but better. You need to lighten up; I'm sure you'll get your job back sooner or later."

"Just get out."

He stares at me for a few seconds, then—

"You heard me, Sanori. Go be 'friendly.'" I struggle to keep myself from shouting.

Sanori does as I say.

\-------------

What feels like an hour passes by, and the two of them have been looking real chummy for too long.

While I'm watching his back, Sanori's joking around with some civilian who shouldn't be here. A demon demolished most of Zone H and left behind spawn of its own to chase down and devour people. No ordinary person would stick around here, but my partner's treating it lightly...

Why?

I can't help fighting my own curiosity. It's been a while since I've had contact with someone other than this dumbass, so I might as well join in.

I get out of the cruisier, quietly, then I make my way up to Sanori. He's leaning inside of the driver's window. I don't see an automated servant, so this stranger's solo-piloting in the Mid-City.

They must know each other.

I'm at Sanori's back when I call out, "Hey, everything all right?"

My partner flinches at first, then he turns his head to the side to address me, "Yeah. Everything's go—"

Blood sprays into my eyes.

When I manage to open them, I can barely see through burning red. Sanori's body is on the ground, head resting in a blood halo.

I blink.

I open my eyes again, then I see the shooter clearly. I reach for my gun—

Pressure strikes below my chest. My ears ring; red spurts from my stomach. I feel the same pressure again and then burning in my left shoulder. I'm about to fall, but I take aim; I shoot.

The cruiser pulls away, but I stay vigilant. Before I hit the ground, I'm granted the blessing of getting to see my assassin crash into a nearby building.

I got him, and I hope I killed the bastard.

\-------------

I think I understand now. Though I don't think I can move, understanding provides me with newfound energy. Sanori must've been meeting with somebody who was bribing him. See, that's just the problem with greedy people like him: they steal from genuine administrative justice the same way that gangbangers steal from regular people. Sanori took too long chatting and didn't bother to at least introduce me before the shooting started.

I can't be mad at him. Not when he paid the price. But, hell, I'm paying it, too. Yes sir, it looks like the good goddess had a plan for me all along.

I get to my feet because I'd like to die like a hero and not on my ass, like Sanori. My vision's a little blurry, my head's pounding, and I feel weak. It's hard to move forward, but I think I can spot a stone building with rounded towers—I see stained glass as well.

As a full moon begins to rise in the night sky, one building shines brightly among the rubble.

An old stone cathedral stands by itself, and I feel it beckoning me inside of it. I'm cold, aching even. Vulnerable. I hate that feeling, but two bullets reduced me to this, a staggering mess as I lurch through the cathedral's main entrance, which is heavy as sin by itself.

On the inside, over a hundred pews line a great hall. Stained glass shows the story of the Federation's history in chronological order, starting from the left—with Lord Isolakandi—and ending on the right with the Herald of the Way, Lord Avva.

At the end of the nave, I see wide, marble steps that lead to elevated ground where both a pulpit and a giant clay statue of Avva stand out. The goddess herself is mostly concealed by a long, hooded robe, but there's something wistful in the way She gazes across the center aisle of the cathedral.

I take my seat in the front row. I'm the only follower of Hers left in Zone H, I'd reckon, but that's okay.

All my life, my faith has restored me. Whenever I feel the pain coming, whether it be physical or metaphysical, I bend my knee in prayer. Avva is the Goddess of Restoration, the one who gave society back to us. In order to preserve this society, I wanted to do my part.

Although I can't prostrate myself before Her, not while in the condition I'm in, I bow my head out of respect. I've made it this far in life because of my belief in Avva, so I should be happy.

Happy.

My prayer turns into drowsiness. I'll just get sleepier as the pain gets worse. As more blood leaks from me, I won't be able to move; I won't be able to get help. But, like I said, it's not so bad. There's a dream coming my way, one without pain. And, when that dream takes over, I'll be free of my duty. Free of conviction.

I blink once, and I lose time.

Twice, and I begin to forget all I know.

Three times, and...

I see a face. I don't recognize him, but it's too late anyways. I blink, a fourth time...

3

A Memory

\-------------

Tavon

\-------------

I followed that sneaky brat through Zone H until he finally moved on Kaust, who'd been following me as well. When I stopped to take a blunt break, I was able to survey the situation a little bit better than before, so, because Kaust himself is weak prey to me, I bided my time.

Once I'd pursued Raiko into the cathedral, I witnessed him twirling around a knife on a long chain. In that instant, I had flashbacks to Enok's ability, but this kid's nowhere near that level.

Even though Kaust is at his end, Raiko has the nerve to try to finish him off anyway. That's why I'm here to stop him...

\-------------

I grab the middle of the chain, putting a halt to Raiko's attack midway.

"Huh?"

When he sees me and instinctively tries to pull his weapon from my grasp, I refused to be moved. He does a doubletake, then Raiko gasps when realizing who I am.

"That's right." I nod at him.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought we parted ways!"

I drop the chain and ball up my fist while lecturing him instead: "That doesn't mean that the Association's done with you, you little punk! What made you come all the way out here? Do you know how long I've been keeping watch over you?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Shit's been creepy, but I didn't say nothin'."

Before I can speak another word, he strides over to inspect Kaust. Raiko bends at the waist, leaning close to the sulking form.

"Hey!" I shout, "Get away from him!"

"He's dead," Raiko says back. "He opened his eyes one last time, then he died."

"How do you know?"

"He stopped breathing." Raiko places two fingers against his upper neck. "No pulse, either."

The punk stands tall, puts both hands on his hips, and exclaims, "Yep. Dead. My work's been cut out for me."

"Kid, what are you talking about?"

I forcibly spin him around to address me.

"Whoa, sir,"—Raiko pushes me while stepping back and raising his hands—"I don't want nothin' to do with you, okay? I've already sworn my service to somebody else since your ignorant ass refused to do your job."

"You can't just resign. I'm sorry, but it's not that easy."

"Sure it is!" Raiko stands his ground. "I'm tellin' you to fuck off, so fuck off!"

Two bangs resound throughout the cathedral; two canisters strike the ground at entrance, near the foyer, and explode. Dense, white gas spreads our way, and our argument's broken up once three more are thrown deeper into the church's interior. Amidst the white fog, lead bullets soar through and recoil off the walls around us—some shattering glass while others come too close for comfort.

After the sound of gunfire fills the cathedral, I grab Raiko by his shirt collar and easily heft his startled, little-bodied-ass up while sprinting for the statue of Avva. On both sides, I notice small stone passages at the opposite end of the platform; while racing down the left one with Raiko, I see farther ahead that they connect at a set of descending steps which lead into the lowest floor of the cathedral.

"Hey, dick!"

Raiko punches the back of my head, prompting me to throw him down the steps before I quickly follow after him. He almost hits a bottom platform, which stretches left and right and into winding staircases that both connect to the crypt below. I grab the kid before he lands on his head, set him upright, and begin to stride past, but I've pissed him off.

I can hear Raiko twirling that useless knife of his again, but, rather than act on it, I keep my back turned.

"Don't do it," is all I say.

"Why'd you come back for me?"

I glance at him and just as an additional canister gets thrown down the passageway prior to a series of bullets richoteting nearby. Had we moved any slower, we'd have been hit.

"Both of us belong to the Association now, Raiko. Once you become a killer, there's no going back."

He takes too long to comprehend that last part, so I yell at him, "C'mon! There's no time!"

We begin running together as I hear the footsteps of multiple gunmen approaching from overhead. We choose opposite staircases so that we can move faster and reach what becomes a narrow tunnel.

Underneath the cathedral, the lowest floor is divided into a series of square rooms, each accommodating a different number of tombs. The whole of the bottom floor is arranged almost like a maze—well, for me because I don't know anyone who's been buried here. On the old stone walls leading into the first room, I see names I'm not familiar with etched along with numbers and letters corresponding to specific rooms.

Because we've nowhere else to run, I lightly nudge Raiko before rushing headlong into the maze itself.

"You should be more careful," he calls out behind me.

"I don't need to," I shout back.

We cross through the first six rooms, weaving left and right without necessarily moving forward. Not long after we've hit the seventh, I hear a familiar clang of metal followed by several more.

"We need to hurry," I say to remind myself, and we move faster than before.

Raiko's struggling to keep up, panting several feet behind as the turns get sharper.

Once we've crossed maybe ten more individual chambers, white gas emerges from where we'd started, slowly crawling through while the two of us struggle to escape to the other side. I've got one plan in mind in case we're met with a dead end, but I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to pull it off—and, even if I am, it's not likely to be of much help in protecting a kid.

"Yo man," Raiko calls out to me again while we're hopelessly navigating near the maze's end.

"What?"

"We should just surrender. What do you expect to do? We're underground—what, you gonna have us jump into the Lower-City?"

"Shut up."

"But sir—"

"Shut up, kid."

I'm hurdling through the last three rooms; I see an exit leading to what looks like...

Steps leading up and not covered with smokescreen gas; there's one room wide open in front of us.

And yet, within the last chamber, the only one which houses exactly one tomb, something catches my eye. Raiko slams into my backside when I stop to inspect what looks like a faint blue light.

As he falls to the ground, I hear him shout, "Yo! You didn't even move—the fuck are you made of, dude?"

"Look!"

I reach toward the light, watching as it brightens depending on how close I am.

"You stopped me so you could fuckin' loot, man?"

"This isn't something that should exist," I respond. "It's abnormal. If you get closer to it..."

"What?"

"See for yourself, and hurry."

Raiko takes my command literally; he all but runs over and then directly touches a sapphire scar which glows intensely as soon as he does.

"Woah," I hear him exclaim while guarding my eyes.

This crack in reality continues to spread. It spreads, fractures, then it becomes a great blue rift, beckoning us forth.

"I can feel it now," he says. "It's like I have to get closer. I can't take it."

And neither can I.

Together, as white smog begins to fill the crypt, we walk into the rift's embrace; we disappear into another realm.

\-------------

We're stuck in another place within the Citadel. In another time.

Three strangers are standing before me and Raiko. They don't seem to notice us, though we're standing in what looks like their house. I see walls painted both white and blue, white carpet, and a blue sofa having been set in front of a thin television monitor hanging from the ceiling. We're between the sofa and all three of them, who appear to confront each other near a long kitchen counter.

There's a woman, with auburn hair reaching past her neckline, who's wearing a white crop top over a pair of faded jeans. She's holding an iron skillet low in her left hand. It's shaking. When I look closer, I see a bloody lip and a bruise around her right eye.

There's a young boy, who picks up an Ayer Kei action figure and holds it in the air while glaring at his father. He's ready to attack; Raiko seems transfixed on him in particular.

The father's the center of attention. On the counter, next to his fist, is a broken glass. He snarls while pointing at his wife in accusation, and that vindictive look of his is so familiar. I know this man—in fact, I thought I'd seen him for the last time.

Aden Kaust doesn't notice either of us. No. He keeps shouting at her.

"Stop treating me like the enemy, Naisha—I'm not a damn villain!"

"Aden, look at your son."

Kaust backhands a younger version of Lance, causing Raiko himself to flinch.

"He doesn't know any better either, and it's because you've taught him to think that way!"

Again, he points, then he bangs his fist on the table.

"While I've slaved away for this motherfuckin' family, you've turned my own son against me! That's how you really feel, isn't it? You want me to be hated!"

"Please, Aden, listen to yourself! Please... don't hit me again..."

She looks down in a show of submission which sparks something inside of me. Raiko seems to feel it, too, and both of us have already unconsciously prepared to attack him if does hit her again.

"Woman, I—" Kaust cuts himself off, turns his back to his wife, and shakes his head. "I just wish you could see all that I've done for this family."

"This is it, Kaust."

She stands straight and braces herself with dignity as she continues, "If you can't keep yourself from drinking every night—"

"Ugh,"—he waves her away—"don't start, Naisha."

"I'm serious, Kaust. This marriage..."

She looks away, pondering the words she'll say next.

"It's over," she tells him.

"What do you mean?" Kaust finally turns to address her while still obviously drunk out of his mind.

"I mean that I'm not doing this with you. Not anymore."

"But—"

"No, Aden, I'm done with you complaining about every little thing I do wrong. Like I say, every night—"

"Naisha—"

"EVERY NIGHT," she shouts, cutting him off completely, "You come home, Aden, and that's the most you get done. After you're home, you hit the bottle—and if there isn't some here, then you go pick up some. Every night. You drink until you're drunk, withering away over the past like an old fool! Every night, Aden, you black out and you hurt us."

"I don't mean to do it, baby—I'm just so stressed! You don't know the kinds of things I have to see out there."

"Oh, but I know enough. I know that every night, as I said before, you come home and beat the shit out of me, and tonight, Aden...

"It's over."

4

The Most Dangerous Man

\-------------

Tavon

\-------------

"The following announcement has been reviewed and approved by the Democratic Council..."

I hear a voice surrounding me, then I realize that the memory has concluded, that we're somewhere else. After crossing through that rift, we must've also moved in the real world, and so...

Raiko and I are just outside of the cathedral, atop the slanted roof of a terraced house and not far from an overhead projection normally used for news broadcasts and weather updates. Up ahead, soldiers, encased entirely in what looks like silver metal, encircle the cathedral; some convert their heels into propulsion jets and begin flying around to search every hidden space they detect.

"They'll be increasing the radius of their search soon. We've gotta get a move on."

"Wait!"

Raiko grabs my arm before I can lead us down from the roof and into the nearest point of concealment.

"What just happened?"

I start to yell at him out of frustration, but I recognize the look on his face. He's confused. Terrified. Although I'm used to experiencing the abnormal, I haven't stopped to think about how young Raiko is.

"We got to see into the mind of that guy back there, into what was probably his most important memory."

"More like his biggest regret."

"Then it's likely that it was the last thing he thought of before he passed on..."

The monitor above us flickers on a second time.

A tall, barrel-chested guy, his greenish-blond hair tied back into a loose ponytail, approaches an ivory podium while decorated in emerald-tinted battle armor. His harsh, green eyes are highlighted by the fluorescent lights in the room around him.

"Hey, I know that guy," Raiko stares at him in bewilderment. "That fool's more famous than the President!"

"Good evening," the thirty-something year old Knight begins, "I am Champion Levon Avag, leader of the Malachite Brigade, the strongest warrior the Federation has. Because of who I am as well as the known effectiveness of my team, the Malachite Brigade has been assigned the full responsibility of protecting the Upper-City due to some recent changes that we must now discuss."

"Damn," Raiko raises his voice too high, "Champion Levon's on the news!"

"Shh! Be quiet."

"Don't tell me to—"

I stop him from talking with my hand while keeping my attention fixed upon the Champion:

"Tavon Meiziki, a terrorist guilty of murdering those who threatened to expose him, has been spotted in Zone H of the Mid-City. Bureau sentinels were the first to discover that he'd killed a former agent from the Dawn Bureau, a Lieutenant Aden Kaust.

"The Ministry suspects that this assassination is connected to the appearance of a second terrorist, Shenu, the mass murderer known as 'Blood Storm' to the media. An hour before the attempt on Aden Kaust's life, a police checkpoint in Zone H was bombarded by what's suspected to have been a series of small IEDs.

"At this time, I, Champion Levon, am here to comfort those citizens concerned about these wicked men. Many within the Mid-City have already been provided refuge in Zones A and B, both of which have been given a cordon consisting of Knights, police, and soldiers. I'm here to assure everyone that your protection's guaranteed; so confident is the Federation in surviving this blow to our morale that we've offered free transport for those who wish to evacuate the Citadel altogether.

"Regardless of what you choose for yourselves, citizens, take heart in the knowledge that there are only two who could dare to threaten the reputations of our warriors. We will deal with them, and, once they've been punished for their sins, the restoration of the Citadel will begin."

Before the transmission ends, Champion Levon exclaims sternly and with a clenched fist, "We will take back the Citadel, repay in kind the wrong which has been dealt to us! Believe in me; believe also in the Olivine and Pyrite Brigades, who've sallied forth to help us capture these terrorists."

The monitor flickers off, then, without hesitating any further, I have Raiko follow me into an alley where our enemies won't hear us for the time being. After listening to what that Knight prick had to say, I've decided to change how I'm going to go about this. While I was following Raiko, announcements would play periodically about larger cruisers in Zone B that were accepting those paranoid of a second demonic catastrophe.

By now, I know the location they've repeated by heart.

I grab Raiko's shoulder, get down on one knee, and look into his eyes sincerely.

"Kid, I know I'm a total stranger, but the Grandmaster ordered me to be your mentor. We can't wait any longer—not when the first target's likely going to be somewhere abroad."

"Hold on a minute," he steps back while studying me with a quizzical look. "You mean you plan on surviving all this?"

"Yeah. What did you think?"

"Shit, I don't know." He shrugs. "Thought you was gonna use me as a shield or somethin'."

"That wouldn't get me very far. That's why I had another idea."

"What's that?"

"Raiko, you'll be going on ahead of me. To E. S. (Exit Station) Bravo."

"Wait, what? You want me to run all the way to Zone B, to an Exit Station? For what, fool?"

"You're going to wait for me," I tell him.

"Wait for you?" he raises both eyebrows. "How are you gonna meet up with me if you're being hunted?"

"I got you this far, didn't I?"

"That's beside the point."

"Get out of here, kid!"

Raiko moves to get away from me, knowing he won't be identified like I will anywhere I go, but he stops short at the end of the alley leading out from the cathedral plaza.

"Yo, mister..."

"Yeah?"

"What are we gonna do once we make it there?"

"Hmph." I smirk. "We'll take the next flight—by force, if we have to. We'll stand by and relax while awaiting our first contract. If we don't get a first contract soon, though... Hmm...

"Well, I don't think it would hurt either of us too much if we finally left, would it?"

\--------------

PART FOURTEEN

Wanted

\--------------
1

A Life Of Training

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

It's not said enough that teaching a subject is the final step in mastering it. For most of my life, I've spent more than enough of my days existing with a mind prepped for combat—or, really, for survival. Although it didn't happen all in one day, I made a choice to keep pursuing this path, and that led me right into the arms of the Meiziki Clan.

It wasn't until I began trying to train both Osotone and Shikami that I mentally understood what I'd been practicing all along. To put it all into words is what made me more capable, capable enough to confront whatever might come my way in the end.

\--------------

Just as Zone A is adjacent to Zone B, C is to D, and so forth. The only outlier is Zone G, which is the farthest point from my goal and thus irrelevant in the journey ahead.

From Zone H, I begin leaping over heaps of rubble, through debris and decaying corpses, then I travel along a wide street that ascends while becoming both a hyper rail and a bridge to the closest police checkpoint. While I move upward, the ground below gives way to an expanse of project buildings from the Lower-City. Midway through a bridge of shining steel, I can see flames rising from a group of cruisers preceding a long highway known as the Moa Serpent. The Moa Serpent itself begins in Zone F, crosses through C, and stops at Zone B to complete the longest, most direct highway within the Citadel.

Every few seconds I hear a loud "bang" followed by the ground quaking below me. In the grey atmosphere above the Moa Serpent, I notice what looks like police cruisers searching for someone. Directly along the path, I spot what looks like burning forms in the distance.

Encircling the checkpoint forward of my position, there's "Ishida's Forest," a man-made jungle of oddly-shaped, bulky trees—none of which have ever died in the years since being planted. Ishida's Forest leads in a completely different direction; just like the Serpent, it originates in Zone F, but it breaks off right before Zone D, a place I'm more familiar with.

Rather than take the high route, like some other madman has, I opt for the Forest:

I jump over the railing from the northernmost point of the platform and into the woods without much trouble. When continuing on a path I'm still putting together in my head, my surroundings seem to accommodate me more and more. I hear the buzzing of insects all around, the stillness of life as I sprint in between thick, gnarled trees that've grown so much that they've begun to intersect with one another.

Maintaining a decent jog feels refreshing, but I'm almost caught off guard when catching sight of movement far to the northeast. Someone's just raised their rifle in my direction.

I expand my legs. I use my thighs to sprint in a diagonal pattern while using the forest around me as cover, but...

They don't fire. Upon second glance, there's several of them now. As it turns out, there's a wide, horizontal clearing which parts what looks like northern and southern sections of the same forest, and, in this clearing, a small army has gathered. Many more aim their weapons my way, but none have chosen to start shooting. Not yet.

"TAVON MEIZIKI," I hear one of them call from a megaphone, "PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND APPROACH SLOWLY."

I've no choice. They've formed a contingent which fills the grassy plains in front. I decide to walk into view, to confront them. I at least want to know who I'm up against.

It's getting darker out, but I can still distinguish regular soldiers standing in a line before Zone police; each cop's holding up blue, plexiglass shields to form a barrier that they don't want me to cross. Only a few Enrec soldiers have their assault rifles pointed at my head, but all of them are dressed in camouflaged uniforms, every one of them protected by black, slender plate carriers.

The soldier who called my name has positioned himself at the front of the formation; he's got short, black hair, a long, white mustache, and appears to outrank the other Enrec fighters because he's the only guy brash enough to openly wear a dark beret.

"You can stop right there," he says to me and doesn't wait for a response—

"Tavon, you've kept us waiting. Why?"

"..."

"What's wrong? You don't anything to fucking say? Are you fucking stupid, Tavon?"

"You should let me pass. It'd save you a lot of grief."

"Okay, guy, that's all right—that's all right..." his face reddens while he swallows whatever he was about to scream. "You know what, there's a reason why we didn't just shoot you in the face and call it a day. But, to be frank, that's what a piece of shit like you deserves. The whole Citadel knows about what you've done, that you're a freak who beats people to death."

"How old are you?"

"Gah!" his face gets redder, then he spits while raising his voice to a shout: "I'm Master Sergeant Syrruth, and I've had full command of training this Company in hand-to-hand combat for years. If you think you can beat people down with your fucking fists, like a goddamned monster, then it's only fair that we give you some tough love before turning you in for the fame. We'll break every one of your bones, and, once it's all over, I'll kick your junk in for such childish, disrespectful behavior.

"Everyone not holding a fucking gun right now: go ahead and beat the shit out of 'Tavon Meiziki.'"

\--------------

"As you know, Tavon, my true ambition in life is to be in a position where I may help the people around me," I remember Shikami explaining while I prepared to show him and Oso the basics.

"I don't wish to live my life hurting others, so I'd prefer to learn the best techniques to incapacitate my opponents." Shikami chuckles while gesturing at his body. "It's obvious that I'm not much when it comes to brute force, so I feel inclined to learn the most efficient strategies for protecting while doing the least amount of harm."

"Well, I don't know about 'efficient,' in the terms that you're speaking of, but I can show you what Modagi's taught me so far."

"That would be excellent..."

The three of us went out onto the roof of the Takeda Arcade; while Oso observed in the background, I taught my first lesson and approached the beginning of my path to true mastery.

"First, Shikami, you've gotta be sure to focus on your stance when in any kind of armed or unarmed combat. When using just your fists, like me, stance, balance, and overall power mean everything. Keep an eye on your footwork while I show you a few things—be SURE," I point at him sternly, "to have your feet somewhat staggered and facing forward, like this. Easy enough, right?"

"So you say..."

\--------------

I can't count how many of them there are in total—not when they all wisely start to rush me at once. Because so many of them sprint my way, my natural reaction is to dash in the opposite direction while keeping a good distance between us!

But they've already predicted that.

A dozen feet after I've turned to run, three more soldiers charge from the darkness of the forest. Their fastest ambusher reaches me within seconds, and—

\--------------

I straightened the palm of my hand, flexed—concentrating solely on that part of my body—and lectured:

"This is what Modagi calls 'spirit hand,' but I've heard other people refer to it as the 'finger jab.'"

I thrusted my fingers to lightly tap against Shikami's head; he staggered back as a result and gasped, "Not so close next time, Tavon!"

"With the right intent, the spirit hand can make a solid weapon against untrained opponents—here, let me show you how..."

\--------------

The first brawler swings his arm out, going immediately for a haymaker without a plan in mind to halt his momentum.

He's close enough now: I strafe to the left. I deflect his arm by pushing it aside with my right hand. I thrust my left palm through his forehead, and it cuts through the fleshy matter in its way. My first attacker's torso turns into a geyser of red that sprays behind what's become my charge into battle!

One of the next two soldiers lunges and throws a swift jab at my head; I step to the right, inside of his guard while deflecting again, then I force my spirit hand through his neck. I stop short of decapitating him with one strike; instead, I turn his body toward my third opponent in order to blind him with the blood that spouts from his comrade's throat.

While my third attacker's blinded, I approach from the side and break his neck by chopping it hard enough that his vertebrae bends inward.

Before I can recover, a fourth is upon me: I ram my open palm into his nose, ram his nose into his brain.

A fifth charges from the side: I thrust two fingers through his right eye socket, then I throw him at the oncoming mob by using his head as leverage.

A sixth assaults me right after: I stop his fist in place; I dig my two, bloodied fingers inside of his collarbone, and I break it in two while slamming him, headfirst, against the ground.

\--------------

"And what about defense?" Shikami asked me. "I can't pull off this 'spirit hand' drivel without knowing how to block."

"My bad," I sighed while allowing myself time to stretch, "I forgot you were so weak. You haven't gone through conditioning, either."

"Tavon—"

"Right! Blocking. Oso, I hope you're listening!"

I glanced her way, but Oso didn't react.

"Okay then: when it comes to blocking, stance is just as important."

"How so?"

Without hesitating any further, I positioned my right heel behind Shikami's right knee, then I pushed him onto his ass by leading with an elbow jab.

"Ow! That was too rough!"

Oso got closer, poised to fight me, but I waved her away while continuing:

"When blocking, you must choose whether to absorb or deflect. In my opinion, an untrained person with no interest in developing their fighting skills is better off learning the principles of both.

"Why don't you come at me, Shikami?"

"What?" he exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

"Don't be afraid. This is the best way for you to learn, but, uh, could you please tell Oso to calm down?"

\--------------

Their intent is to outflank me, and swarms of soldiers have continued their pursuit. Simultaneously, they've been spreading out while chasing me back into the southern portion of Ishida's Forest. My plan's to try to circumvent them somehow, to get around their main horde as I make my way back to the clearing. Unfortunately for my situation, I can't risk letting too much of my power loose without exhausting myself.

Rather than use my legs to bolt between trees and outpace my enemy, I choose to force a steady chase. The cleverest soldiers distance themselves enough to spring ambushes while I evade the leading mob; they're on me like birds ready for a feast.

A stockier guy throws a jab at me, and I apply another technique:

While keeping my stance forward, I observe the brawler's fist headed toward my face. I raise my right forearm, just outside of his, and throw the direction of his strike off by pushing his arm to the side with my left hand. His head turns my way. He stares into my eyes with a horrified expression.

I cleave his face in two with the palm of my right hand.

\--------------

"When facing off with a boxer or a trained fighter, they might be more reluctant to simply let you trick them in this way. Those who've been at it for a while know that the spirit hand is an effective weapon, but there are others just as effective.

"Now, I think I'll show you guys the side fist technique..."

\--------------

After taking out two more brawlers, I rush toward the clearing for the second time and closer to where Master Sergeant Syrruth is standing by while his men do all the work.

Soon, I'm stranded among a green field; a line of fighters has formed directly behind me; from the south, bodies start to burst from the forest and proceed my way. I think I've got a clear shot at reaching the Sergeant; after all, he's standing just atop the incoming hill. Though I'm weighed down slightly by my own muscle mass, I increase my pace as the two of us make eye contact.

Just as I reach the base of the hill, swarms of dark green and black uniforms surge my way. They congregate to form a thick line of defense for their leader, and then their bravest makes his charge.

I meet him with the same amount of effort, but I change my tactics.

He throws a straight punch at my head—one that I dodge by stepping to the right and barely rotating my body to the side. At the same time, I ball up both of my fists, then I draw them close to my body while positioning them vertically. Although this guy's trying to block his jaw with his other hand, turning my fists offers me the advantage of exploiting a smaller opening.

While still inside of his guard, I drill his chest with a series of side punches. He tries to back away, but he ends up staggering in place; as a result, the first twelve punches smash his sternum. I break a countless number of his ribs before he hits the ground.

There's someone else with a helmet on my left: I rotate, drill him in the head, and shove my palm through his throat. Another fighter's swinging at me on the right, so I throw the corpse in my grasp right at him. He collides with his dead buddy and loses his balance; when he stumbles my way again, I break in his right side with another flurry of vertical blows.

Three more rush me, each swinging at nearly the same time. I move both my waist and neck reactively, dodging all three attacks before one of them takes another, faster swing and hits me in the face.

I feel impact but nothing else.

I don't move back from that hit; instead, continuing the Side Fist technique at a greater speed is all I need to transform my opponent's body into a mangled heap.

When the next fighter swings again, I grab his arm, take control of it at his shoulder joint, and snap it in place. Subsequent to that, I use the broken limb to strike first him and then to knock back the third assailant before he can make his move.

From behind, yet another bastard punches me in the head—a second hits me in the middle of my back.

I sense a third swing before it lands, so I catch it. I lock my new opponent in a side arm bar and swing him in time to catch the brunt of someone else's tackle. From behind, and again, I receive another punch to my back.

That's when I adjust my style of fighting:

I throw my elbow straight up, bashing in the nose of one of five brawlers, then I bring it downward to crack his skull. Using the same elbow, I pivot at the waist and turn to strike another attacker hard enough in the head to knock him off his feet.

The other three get to land their hits: one to my jaw, one to my gut, and another to my forehead.

One of them throws a weak jab my way, but I intercept his hit using my leg. I absorb what feels like a pithy strike, then I kick his head off.

With several others still charging in my direction, I take on the two remaining assailants while bringing the fight closer and closer to my real target. They throw their hardest strikes at me, and I can tell that they're really giving it everything they've got. Even so, I deflect their hits with rapid movements enhanced by an increasingly rapid sense of focus. One of the fools flails at me too recklessly; his attack lacks form backed by a true sense of aim and presents me with an opening I never thought possible until now.

Using the spirit hand technique, I send my palm upward and at the exact moment that I can see the underside of his wrist. I grab his fist before it hits its mark, then I shove my palm deep into his wrist ligaments, bending the joint while I force my attacker to somersault forward, onto his backside.

I deflect the next fist that flies toward my head and step forward, too close for my enemy's comfort. In what feels like a half-lunge, I bash my forehead against his mouth, then I bash him a second time to clear the way forward.

Four more soldiers come at me, but I channel sufficient power in my legs to leap far to the right prior to sprinting past them. I run at almost full speed, evading the obstacles on my path while closing the distance between me and the one they follow.

I pursue Master Sergeant Syrruth until I've backed him up against the northern section of Ishida's Forest. When he at last acknowledges me for the second time, he does so by drawing his pistol as four other riflemen emerge from the woods behind him.

"Well look at you! You've turned out to be a real scrapper, Tavon, so they're not so far off the mark about you."

He fires unexpectedly, shoots me in the stomach—

"Choke on your own blood."

2

Toughening

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

"No matter how good you are, you're gonna take some heavy blows here and there," I warned Shikami. "At first, it's going to come as a shock—"

With that, I uppercutted him in his solar plexus and put the young doctor on his knees.

"Wh—" he broke off into a cough, then he sputtered, "Why?"

Osotone drew closer, but Shikami gestured for her to chill out so that he could hear the rest of what I had to say:

"When learning any form of combatives, Shikami, there's always a conditioning phase. Wrestlers condition themselves to hit the mat, over and over again; boxers condition themselves against both powerful strikes as well as weak surprise-jabs. In short, as long as we're involved in this lifestyle, we'll all have to toughen up...

"Even me."

\--------------

My right side feels as though it's trying to press in on itself. Immense, painful pressure nearly forces me to keel over—

Yet my natural instincts remain intact. His guys are about to gun me down.

I expand my legs, bound to the left, and escape into the woodline ahead while bullets light up the trail I leave behind. I weave my way forward, moving both left and right as the tree bark around me explodes from dozens of assault rifles firing at once. I keep moving, thinking I'll just run away; just as I'm doing so, my side finally relaxes.

The bullet Master Sergeant Syrruth struck me with tumbles to the ground, and I feel a sharp jolt of pain followed by a surge of energy.

I could escape, forge a path ahead. I could outpace them and disappear amidst the chaos, but...

Hmm. No. I won't run anymore. If Syrruth wants to take my life, he's going to have to earn it.

And so I rush in the opposite direction, back toward throngs of soldiers and police who keep up their suppressive fire just to frighten me. Because none of them can get a good line of sight on my location, I'm temporarily protected as long as I maintain my speed.

I sprint past a squad so quickly that they can't open fire without risking harm to one another. Using this method, and while everyone's switching to guns, I'm able to use the element of surprise in my favor. Once I'm near enough to my target again, that's when I keep my legs expanded while sending a decent amount of power into my forearms. Before my ambushers can regroup, I bound from the ground and onto the midsection of one tree. I leap from there onto the next to land with both one leg and forearm; each send so much pressure into its midsection that the tree nearly caves.

I spring again, land, and keep my momentum focused forward. As I race toward my goal, I move slightly higher between each tree—right before the last, where I pause to briefly observe the Master Sergeant and his retinue.

He gestures toward the woodline, orders them to hunt me down, and, as they separate from him, I make my move:

Applying my full weight, I jump down feet first. I land on Syrruth's shoulder, fit my legs around his neck, and twist his head off and into my hands while I spin in the air right before landing. As one foot touches the ground, five gunmen turn my way. Three are in shock upon seeing their leader's sudden execution, so I throw Syrruth's skull into one of the two who aren't and destroy whatever's left of my target's head.

The other fires at me while blood sprays into his eyes. His determination's firm enough to keep his aim true, and so a series of lead bullets pound into both my chest and abs, some ricocheting off while others push into my skin.

\--------------

"The last—probably most—valuable lesson I'll teach you today, Shikami, as well as every day from now on, is the concept of the Perfect Punch.

"I waited until the end to teach the most basic technique because I consider it to be the best lesson I could give you. The act of creating force and extending it into your hand is something that also involves a good grip on the meaning of discipline, Shikami. I'm sure you know how to punch already, but imagine the effects of practicing the same, perfectly composed punch day after day. Discipline exists in the littlest habits, and building good habits can turn you into a better fighter."

"That was quite eloquent of you, Tavon."

"What?"

"Just now, what you said. I'd no idea you thought so intellectually about combat. In fact, my friend, it seems you know much more than you let on. If you and I pursue 'discipline' in whatever we set out to accomplish, imagine the sort of people we could become..."

\--------------

A river of lead pops out from my upper and lower body. I launch myself toward the dude who emptied his entire magazine on me; I jump when a few feet away, and then I send my momentum into a forward strike:

The shooter's head explodes around my fist. Blood sprays into my eyes and mouth, and I hear gunfire follow behind me. I run before trying to take another barrage of bullets and launch myself toward the woodline—

Right over yet another fucking guy!

For once, I've encountered a member of the local police force, who comes at me with a different strategy. Because she's got a big shield, she thinks she's safe, and—

I'm hit with a high voltage of electricity as the Zone cop uses a long-distance stun gun. My body convulses, but the pain doesn't come until at least five seconds of being under her control. It's nothing like being shot.

Her eyes go wide when I recover faster than she expected, then the cop raises her shield and stuns me again.

This time it lasts fewer than three seconds. I step toward her, grab the stun gun just as she activates it again—

And—ugh!—I'm hit! Someone's shot me in the back—I can't fucking see; there's too much blood! I try to escape, but the cop strikes me in the head with her shield. I stagger away, until my back hits the tree behind me, but she's relentless; she thrusts her shield forward to bash my body against tree bark, and I sidestep while her attack collides hard enough to knock her shield from her grasp.

While she's exposed, I drive my knee through her gut. She passes out on contact, and I grab her shield. A wave of them close in from all around, one composed of both the police as well as the remaining Enrec soldiers.

Upon spotting the first shadow of my next opponent, I hurl the police shield his way. It soars at eye level, dips just a bit, then decapitates one of too many. I try to engage them, but the rest of my enemies seem to have caught on.

"Don't try to fight him!" one of them shouts. "He's a demon!"

"Right," another chimes in while raising his weapon. "Just keep your distance and shoot!"

They do just that. While I approach, they back away. One at a time, they trade turns firing. The longer I struggle against them, with bullets still falling from my bruised body, the easier it gets to see the trajectory of their gunshots. They conserve ammo by allowing each gunner to shoot at different intervals and from different angles.

I've been overusing my power too early, but there's no other way to beat them. I force my legs and arms to grow, and so—!

Shit! No, what's this?

Rather than concentrating my energy like before, it's spreading out—it's spreading across my entire body, in total conjunction with the pain I feel.

I squat low while focusing on the nearest tree...

I've no time to fail. My legs don't expand to be as big as usual, but the size of my whole body feels like it's increased. The shooters have tightened their circumference of fire around me, so I've got to move! I jump—

I hit the midsection of the tree like an animal, with both hands and feet gripping the bark. Adrenaline activates inside of me.

While continuing to take full advantage of my environment, I find myself able to spring faster between branches, to fly within Ishida's Forest while focusing solely on the Zone cops. Out of desperation, a lot of Enrec guys starts emptying the rest of their ammo on the sky and doing everything they can to score another hit. This tactic works against them, providing so much noise that it's easier for me to maneuver around the shieldbearers.

As midnight approaches, I take my time personally dispatching of whoever's left. All across the northern forest, and steadily closer to my main objective, I launch myself from the branches above to strike down anyone who's got the nerve to keep following me.

It gets darker, and more bodies fall. By the time I've come close to reaching what's known as the Great Bridge, the sound of suppressive fire fades away. My pursuers dwindle in number.

In the end, I come down from the trees while taking a direct path forward. Some soldiers and police confront me in the open, but, like the others, they fall pretty easily. Finally, one of them speaks up from the shadows when maybe twelve or so of them are left:

"It's no use!" I hear a male voice cry out, "He's mocking us now—look at the way the monster walks goddammit! We can't win against a demon like this!"

Others begin to echo this sentiment, then the wisest voice speaks out among them all: "He's not human. He's a freak who must be destroyed, but we're not one of his kind. If we were," he says, "we'd stand a chance. That's why we have to rely on the Ministry to do its job. Both the Pyrite and Olivine Brigades are full of freaks like him; all that's left for us to do is send in a report.

"Besides, once the Ministry catches up with him, they'll drag his skull through the fucking dirt."
3

Champion Stolor

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

As I travel along the ongoing path, I almost don't notice once it breaks off into a cliff. Right below, a series of both walkways and hyper rails run parallel to each other before conjoining at least a mile ahead—where I spot another outpost.

This one looks both old and new, with its walls made from steel and moa. Below it, all hyper rails converge into two roads: the Moa Serpent, which leads into Zone A prior to breaking off into diverging rails at the Zone's center, and a series of highways which run east, to Zone D.

I don't need to expand my legs for this distance; I jump down.

Once my feet land on the hyper rail I've chosen, it buckles under my weight. The power I'd meant to concentrate earlier hasn't left my body; no—actually, I think it's growing. I feel my speed increasing, gathering as I continue to refine the adrenaline burning inside of me.

There it is, the outpost itself, with its entrance wide open:

Out of three stories altogether, this outpost's middle interior is its largest. On the inside, black, tiled flooring lines a visitors' lobby. Normally it'd be filled with merchants of all trades—butchers, artists, pharmacists, and cruiser salesclerks especially—but, since the Federation's State of Emergency, public transportation hubs on the outskirts of A and B seem mostly deserted.

Moreover, something's not exactly right here. The whole room's quiet, though directly above is supposed to be the barracks of those maintaining the peace. I don't think I could've taken out their entire staff in the Forest, not when the last of them fled South.

After roaming the entirety of the waiting area and discovering no one, I move to the west side of the lobby and pass through a sliding door. I come across a set of red, carpeted steps which lead up to another sliding door.

I step through—

The barrel of a rifle hurdles my way, threatening to pierce my cheekbone if I don't evade it in time. I snake my body around the barrel, hold the weapon in place while my assassin fires, then I break his trigger finger right before I shove the buttstock of his own gun into his teeth. He steps back—

And I step forward, swinging again: I bash in the side of my opponent's face while pivoting to confront a second gunman. He prepares to shoot—

I smash his head into the wall as two bullets fly behind me. I swing for a third time and finish by battering the last of my ambushers; or, at least, the ones I've sensed in what looks to be a dark hallway. His corpse tumbles to a floor carpeted in pure velvet...

I spot a glint of light from within the darkness: whirring metal flies from the void to my left, and I strafe forward in time to dodge before it clangs against the wall.

I hear something cutting through the air, then I see a second glint. Two small and circular, spiked rings soar directly toward my head. I duck, and two more clangs resound throughout the hallway.

"Tavon Meiziki..." I hear the raspy voice of an older man reverberate around me. "After coming all this way, I still found you sooner than expected. Oh Tavon, could you even begin to imagine who I am?"

"That's irrelevant. Where's everybody else? Shouldn't there be more soldiers stationed here?"

"There was no need. The Federation called for Champions capable of dealing with an Awakened terrorist; therefore, I told the Knights posted here to leave the real work to me. Tavon Meiziki, I am Champion Stolor: the very last known ninja alive in the Citadel, but could you hazard a guess as to why this is?"

"Just show your face already. There's no honor in what you're doing right now."

"And what would you know about honor—what, when you betrayed, not one, but two of your former masters. You've become as I did when I left behind the first Clan you destroyed, the Nagao. It appears that we're both rōnin, Tavon, but I'm the sole inheritor of the Nagao's legacy."

"Wait, wha—"

A cloaked shape begins to emerge. At first, it appears as though it's sprinting my way, then its speed abruptly doubles. Champion Stolor tosses three more shuriken my way, and his form bounces from wall to wall as he edges closer.

After having gotten used to anticipating the trajectories of bullets, the three specks of steel whirring before my eyes are easy enough to detect as well as separate:

I ball my left hand into a fist, then I throw it up to block; the first shuriken makes a shallow cut across my knuckles right before bouncing off.

I rotate my torso, throwing my subsequent punch in time to catch the next one and deflect it into the ground. The third whirs past me—a trick!

Champion Stolor appears from above. He hefts his katana skyward while keeping his gaze fixed on me as he attacks with a downward swing. I punch upward, meeting the blade's middle, and snap his katana in two with a solid strike. Stolor reacts by crouching, then he draws his second katana with one upward stroke that could split my body into two halves—from under my right arm and up past my neck.

I catch the sword in my hand, and I crush it with a strong grip. I rotate the top portion, angle it his way, then I aim for between his eyes. I throw the end of his former weapon like a spear, but he leaps back while tossing another shuriken at my head! I tilt my neck to the side and catch a long cut that all but parts my left trapezius muscle.

Stolor begins increasing the distance between us with consecutive leaps; each time he moves away, he throws another shuriken. I dodge one, two—strike three and four with both fists—five, then—

Six slender, barbed hooks soar past my eyes. I feel cold metal sink into my back muscles. Burning pain is followed by a hard tug, one with enough force to pull me in the ninja's direction as he suddenly flies my way.

He's drawn a third, shorter katana, but...

This one's different.

A sword made of lavender particles of light beams above me; Champion Stolor tries once more for the overhead slash, intent on dispatching me as rapidly as possible! My better instincts begin to awaken, and, rather than meet his strike head on, I dash to the left as he hits the ground while simultaneously knowing what his next move will be:

Stolor grips a katana made from zol in both hands and swings it in a fast, horizonal arc. I jump, clear the body of the blade, extend one leg, and kick him in the head. Stolor staggers back; at the same time, he drops two silver objects and comes alight with a faint aura.

—SHINTE—

The damn ninja lets off two flashbangs as he zooms into a connecting room. It's not even a second later when I hear the sound of glass shattering. This sound's accompanied by footsteps. A Knight in white armor steps from out of a dark passage marked by a pointed arch. In his arms, he wields a rifle that's convertible into a mobile cannon—one of the Ministry's most destructive weapons.

Without another word, he begins charging a blast which quickly gathers power and much faster than I can move to stop him. The Dawn Knight fires:

I close my eyes and leap to the side, digging both hands and legs into one of the wooden walls as a great sphere of energy brushes by—

I launch myself at the Knight, who drops his current weapon and instead attempts to reach for the handle of his sword. Before he can make it very far, however, I dash my knee against the side of his helmet, force shreds of metal into his head, and break the Knight's neck all at once. His ally follows in the wake of his fallen corpse, aiming a flaming broadsword at my head as he approaches. At its hilt, a small stream of jet fuel sputters out to increase the speed of his attacks. This Knight, emboldened with such an effective weapon, closes the distance while sweeping his blade through the air.

Bright flames rush in front of me as he charges my way, but I'm playing him; I know how to handle this. I abruptly charge his way as well, slightly throwing him off guard as he catches up to me sooner than he anticipated. As a result, his following swing is clumsier.

I launch myself over it and inside of his reach, then I grab the sword handle and bend the entire weapon in his direction. He reacts by trying to punch in my face with one of his metal gauntlets, but I dodge with just my head, shift both our bodies to the side, and kick in the back of his knee using the heel of my right foot.

As he loses his balance—and right before he falls—I wrench the sword from his grasp; I part his head from his neck with one swing, and it rolls into the following room, right into the desk of a middle-aged man with white hair and a connecting, grey beard to match.

He's set his helmet on top of his desk but appears to be dressed for battle. His eyes look into mine sincerely. I sense an earnest attitude, and he's surprisingly calm for someone who's just had the window to his office busted open.

I stride into the center of the room, but I'm afraid I sense it too late: another aura, similar to the one projected by Champion Stolor. This one's different in that it fills the atmosphere in just this office like a heavy fog—a heavy, crimson heatwave extending from the very being of this stranger.

He clasps his hands together and smirks at me in a patronizing manner.

"Why, what a monster you've turned out to be. The longer you remain alive, the more I have to hear about your accursed presence."

With that, my left hand disobeys me: it bends at the joint, contracts briefly and painfully, then my own fist strikes me in the face. I'm knocked back as he starts to laugh.

"Fool. Now it makes sense; after all, I wondered why the tau field around you was so dense—it's because of you! You're an idiot!"

"What are you talking about?"

When I look down to inspect my left arm, I can see that my wounds stick out more than usual. Not just that...

Traces of red look as though they're extending out from me. They emerge before turning into faint clouds of blood, and these clouds converge to make up the entirety of this private room.

The strange Knight breathes in deeply before he continues with an irritating smile, "They're saying that you killed over seventy men out there, Tavon."

He stands.

"I believe that makes us almost equal when it comes to the amount of lives we've claimed. Heh. Champion Stolor assured me that he could take care of you on his own, but it seems he's left me, his General, to finish the job.

"Aw well, it's no matter. I am Knight General Dicenra, of the Khmer Brigade, and I had my men retreat before they made the same mistakes as the ones you've just mercilessly dispatched. It's obvious that you've taken some significant-looking injuries in your fight, Tavon Meiziki, so I'd suggest you surrender now"—he immediately draws a revolver and aims between my eyes—"It'll be easier this way. Surrounding you right now is a field constructed from my own tau. If someone with exposed wounds comes within a certain distance of this field, I may turn their blood into a mist. I breathe in this mist, then I decide what I'll have your limbs do from there!"

He snaps: my left hand balls up into a tight fist.

"You think you can just punch your way past everyone, don't you? You're strong, I'll give you that, but you're too stupid for your own good.

"How about this, boy: I save you a drawn-out struggle by shooting you in the face?"

In the time it's taken him to talk shit, I've come up with the best strategy I've got. I try concentrating again: this time, I focus all of the available energy in my body into my right arm. It expands to three times its usual size, bulging with muscle which threatens to tear through my skin, muscle which harms me to carry in one place.

With all the power drained from my left hand, I'm able to create a new outcome.

I move—

General Dicenra snaps his fingers and prompts my left fist to strike my in the face... weakly.

My right fist collides with the first round he fires—swift to the extent that I'm able to force the bullet back into its chamber. The revolver implodes, amputating Dicenra's hand, and I grab his exposed face; I dash General Dicenra's forehead against his desk, then I turn my attention toward the window, refocusing my power back throughout my body.

It's happening again. It's like my power's doubled—I can feel every muscle swelling up more and more.

I have to keep going. I have to make it!

\--------------

Just below the window where Champion Stolor escaped, there's an incredibly long drop to four hyper rails headed in the direction of Zone D. Like the outpost, the way forward looks abandoned. I notice some cruisers scattered along each path, but only a quiet network of small highways lies in the distance.

I'm not sure how Stolor made it, but I know how I will.

I leap from the broken windowsill and into the night sky. Around me, the cold air forces my bloodied clothes upward while my enlarged legs carry most of the weight. When I expand specific sections of my body in this instance, I feel further pressure within my upper torso.

The way this energy's altered my overall composition continues to amaze me. I confidently plant both feet firmly as I land on one of the narrow hyper rails. This one buckles more than the last, and I hear the burden of my weight echo throughout the length of it.

Champion Stolor thrusts from behind me with the same sword from before.

I edge forward, just barely evading the ninja's zol blade. Reflexively, he drops two smoke canisters, and—

—SHINTE—

He's gone, sprinting down a concave, steel highway.

Though I know it's kind of futile, I pursue him anyways while refocusing my strength once more. Up ahead, several more hyper rails intersect with this one in particular, yet they all extend South of my location. Navigating the Citadel has always been a sensitive topic with me, especially at this moment. Anxiety joins with my building adrenaline while I focus on a path that leads into a steel jungle consisting of what looks like a continuum of steel and moa highways.

It's when I reach the first parked cruiser that a bomb detonates.

A trap that's been sprung too early explodes a dozen feet away from me, then a small shuriken strikes the ground next to my feet in a sort of taunt.

I accept Stolor's challenge, taking note of my surroundings as I proceed. Rather than engage any more of the other cruisers directly, I opt for rails right above or near to my current path. After traveling some distance ahead, I'm forced to launch myself higher than my previous attempts, and I wind up landing near a terrifyingly large group of abandoned cruisers.

White gas emerges from a place I can't make out and begins to cover the ground, encouraging me to move before I inhale any of it. I sprint just northwest of my original route, past the rear of another vessel, and—

I break through a trip wire: a shotgun goes off. My body hits the ground before my mind's even aware, but my instincts take over. I bring myself to a crouch, then I sprint forward again—

I trigger another shotgun, but I rotate my body fast enough to dodge a spray of lead which passes me by. From behind, Champion Stolor appears with a new weapon. I hear the sound of an object being swung through the air.

I turn just as a long sickle nearly impales me through my left eye. I duck, grab the chain of Stolor's kusarigama, and jerk him in my direction. Stolor draws his blade of zol and slashes toward my midsection, but I lunge his way with one outstretched palm: I ram the palm of my hand into his sternum and knock the Champion back so that the momentum of his attack is interrupted early.

I'll end him with my next strike: a jab that should knock him off his guard. Seeing a clear opening, I send a punch his way, but...

Time slows. Just slightly.

My instincts dominate completely now: I charge to the side and leap from the hyper rail onto a higher path. Champion Stolor jumps below. Both of us move out of the way as a massive, elongated hunk of teal-colored metal crashes through the highway between us and plunges farther into the Lower-City below.

I rush forward, still keeping my position in mind, and proceed up an ascending path—right before three rings of golden light.

Once I've reached the peak of the tallest hyper rail connecting Zone F and D, I spot a red sphere which forms around what's presently four burning rings. An immense orb of radiant light hovers above the hand of a woman who levitates in the grey atmosphere surrounding the steel network. Her armor appears fitted to a sizable body, with chainmail complemented by pyrite plates that glimmer in the light of the moon.

"Champion Isa," I hear the voice of Stolor call out from the depths, "obliterate him! Do it now!"

She hurls a ball of tau containing more explosive energy than any ordnance I've encountered before, and it's all I can do but jump as a violent light implodes above me. A shockwave composed of pure zol strikes my conscious mind, deep inside of my head, and I nearly fall unconscious while descending past two close rails that fly past me on the way down.

I expand my right arm, grab onto the side ledge of a steel path to my left, then—

She's already there, across the way from me on the same highway. Champion Isa generates another zol bomb as she holds three fingers in the air.

I expand my legs and launch myself to a higher rail on my left again just as she directs the bomb my way. When reaching the nearest cruiser, I shudder while hearing it zip right under the rail and off into the horizon.

Without hesitating, I tear off one of the door panels. I move onto the ledge, back into her line of sight—

But there's not just one of them. I see two Isa's now: one higher up and farther away, and the one hovering in front, who's already begun generating another bomb. Her right arm twitches, and she sends the next sphere of light my way. From here, I don't think.

I take several steps back, then I spring forward while holding the door panel in one hand. I launch myself right as the hyper rail behind me's obliterated; from there, I'm soaring toward a steel path much closer to my target, hoping my strength will continue to push me through!

My enlarged forearm is enough to provide me with a sufficient grip; I pull myself up, then I get to my feet.

I pivot, flex both arms, and send the door panel spinning in her direction. It slices through Champion Isa's stomach, and, at first, nothing happens. Her image glitches, fading in and out...

Then she explodes, a veritable bomb of a clone. Not only can she create explosives and project them at will, but there's currently the possibility of more than one duplicate lurking around who can both attack and detonate without real consequences. No wonder the Knights are known to be such a pain in the ass.

I leap onto yet another higher hyper rail, intent on continuing until I reach Zone D. When an additional—and obvious—tripwire presents itself, I hop over with ease. Then, as my feet hit the ground, a red beam of light comes into close contact with the tip of my nose, soaring past and into the side of a faraway skyscraper.

The ground along the way's littered with metal plates attached to and atop turrets positioned to the right of me. I circumvent a lengthy row of them by launching myself upward, bounding from the side of a consecutive higher rail, and pushing myself onward. I land and break into a wild sprint, ignoring a growing number of discarded cruisers along the way.

Once again, I'm ascending into the heights of the Mid-City, where you can just make out the colossal shadow of the Monorail. The vast district of Zone D spans the lower expanse of territory below, but my objective's not so far off.

I spot and avoid a group of basic bear traps ahead, but here it comes...

The great missile in the sky, the same teal color as the one before it. Its shadow's growing larger and larger.

I charge forth, jump...

SMASH! The hyper rail at my back collapses; shards of steel and cements shoot out in all directions as a gigantic javelin passes through. The shock's incredible! My body goes numb as I hit the ground.

"STRIKE! NOW!"

Champion Stolor's outflanked me in a way I could've never thought up myself. His strategy's been perfect: luring me all this way just so he could show off. The real aim of this chase his been for it to end right here.

Champion Isa, the Bomber Goddess, rises from the depths, staring coldly in my direction as a much greater sphere than before hovers over both of her outstretched palms.

In a moment of what should be panic, of what's supposed to be real terror, I don't feel anything. It's quiet within my mind.

Champion Stolor grunts while charging in at closer quarters, the tip of his blade aimed at the center of my back. With Knights on opposite sides of me, I have to prioritize who to respond to first.

When Stolor's katana is mere inches away, I remember the principles I taught my friends. I remember to step aside, to use my abdomen as an anchor—that maintaining my stance in conflict is everything!

He swings his blade, I focus my energy, move swiftly inside, and push the katana out using my right forearm; I swat it farther aside using the palm of my left hand and then take hold of his arms. In Stolor's eyes, I see the reflection of four flaming rings closing in.

I instantly break both of his wrists, then I wrap the chain of his kusarigama around his body. I turn and throw:

Stolor's lightweight body bangs against the side of a hyper rail as I send him upward. I swing to the right, force him to meet Champion Isa's zol bomb before it can reach me, and a massive explosion results overhead.

Although I can't exactly see in amidst the smoke, I sense the essence of her tau. She's still lurking there, and so I give chase.

I bound toward her, and I launch myself into the clearing debris; Champion Isa shrieks. I place one hand on the top of my target's head and the other around her chin. I twist, rotating my body until her neck snaps, then I kick off from Isa's body to land upon a moa highway to my right. I dash ahead, expecting what necessarily follows:

Another missile strikes another rail just before me, missing completely this time.

Champion Neholit, King of the Javelin, is acting as their sniper. I've killed two of his friends, so it's likely that his morale's been shaken. I can use that in my favor and escape for now.

Not so far away, a familiar place calls for me to pay it one final visit. I'll catch up with Neholit eventually, but I'll have to lure him into a battleground of my choosing if I want to win...
4

Zone D

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

In some ways, it's the same; in many, it's not.

Zone D. The district where I killed Isaac, where I put down Ekwueme and interfered in another gang's personal business. About two-thirds of it used to be comprised of the poor while the rest was owned by the middle and upper class.

Currently, it's all been reduced to rubble for the most part.

I enter the Aquarium I'd stopped at before my last hit as a Core-Man, but all I can see now is broken glass as well as depressions and potholes scattered along streets partially blocked by fallen buildings. It's past midnight now, but the way forward's brightened by a set of neon signs having retained power in spite of the destruction. Some have fallen on their sides and next to streetlights—both bent and upright at various spots. The path of that demon spawn still shows clearly, with broad business establishments looking as though they were pushed out of something's path.

After crossing through the wreckage of the Zone D Aquarium, now just a pile of shit stacked atop useless, elevated ground, I slow down a bit while coming upon two withered gardens that flank me on both sides. I remember to decrease the rate of my breathing, to allow myself the proper time to recover...

"Don't move." I hear a voice call to me through a speaker.

I stop, glance to my left, and notice a dark speaker; I dodge right, then I sprint ahead. I move just as a large piece of lead hits the ground a few inches in front of me. Once I've rushed by the shrapnel left in the ground, I spot someone in grey armor: a Dawn Knight camouflaged to blend in with the Mid-City.

A sniper.

He reloads and fires a second time, but I burst with a leap toward the brick complex on his right. I land on all fours, then I spring off while expanding one leg. I thrust the heel of that leg into the sniper's helmet; his head whips to the side and back as he stumbles away. He nearly catches his balance, but his will to live escapes too early; my would-be assassin falls dead upon the ground.

One of his comrades rushes me from behind, but the distance between us gives me an instant advantage. With the same leg I used to strike down the sniper, I balance the weight of my body on the other and kick in his breastplate; a dent appears that's been so precisely formed that it stabs him from the inside. While maintaining full balance, I kick a second time—I strike his head hard enough to put him on the ground by his friend.

I turn to face what I originally think is another one of the regular Knights, but, instead, I'm confronted with a small squad of soldiers wearing the bulkiest armor I've ever seen.

Cragged, grey ridges protrude along polished planes of verdant green. Every one of them is spaced out individually, like stone giants among a landscape of dirt and debris. Rather than confront me all at one time, each one—out of seven altogether—observes me from separate distances and all the way into the smaller hyper rails leading toward the D Projects. I can't see if all of them are armed, but I do spot two riflemen and what looks to be some sort of cannon-shaped weapon held by the Knight who's the farthest away.

Despite them being armed and more than prepared to kill me, the first member lets me approach without acting hostile at all. On the contrary, he rises from a kneel and offers me a handshake.

I turn it down.

"Very well." I hear a young male's voice from behind an old, green visor, "Introductions need not be necessary in this case."

"You all want to kill me. What's the point of telling you who I am when you already know?"

"The point, Tavon Meiziki," he says, "is that you know who killed you."

"That doesn't sound any better to me."

"I am Maesu Eika, a reconnaissance Knight sent from the Olivine Brigade. While the Pyrite Brigade might have its heroes, we of the Olivine prevail via better defenses, better weaponry, and greater numbers overall. If you fail to give up here, Tavon, the intel sent back to the rest of the Brigade will be dispersed amongst everyone interested in taking your head. Are you ready for that? Do you think you can take the full weight of everyone knowing what you're cap—"

I expand my left arm to three times its size, shred through tuffs of my own skin, and punch Maesu directly in his helmet. I stand in place, even as the two Olivine shooters begin charging their rifles. Maesu staggers away from me while gripping the sides of his helmet with both hands. His body trembles; his knees shake with effort.

"I c-can't... I..."

Maesu falls over.

He goes limp, and then they attack: I dodge the first two blasts of energy, sprint to the closest Knight, expand just my thigh, and plunge my knee into the torso of his armor. It pierces his breastplate, and I press my knee deeper into his spinal column in order to break his back. Once the last Knight charges his weird cannon, an additional weapon's deployed my way.

Some robot in the shape of a spider crawls over crushed cruiser parts and rotting sofas to get to me. Just as I sense it, I realize that I can only dodge in one direction—back.

I pick up Maesu's body by one of its arms, and then I toss it to fall on the spider right before I sprint away from the incoming blast!

As flames erupt from the shockwave emitted behind me, I set my sights on the next shooter and expand both my other thigh and one of my biceps. He tries to ready his weapon again—maybe because he's no other plan in place—so I throw my knee over his arms and squarely into his breastplate; at the same time, I bring the elbow of my enlarged arm down on his head, and that ends what I figured would be a short struggle.

The rest of the Olivine Brigade's recon team continues using the same tactics. Because their armor can't stop them from being harmed from sheer impact, they rely on remote-controlled devices to engage me.

Two spider drones leap from the surrounding destruction; I grab a leg from each and throw them in the direction of the subsequent Knights ahead. Not a second follows when three grenades land at my feet.

I sprint forward—

Right into tear gas which starts to fill the vicinity. When I try to circumvent the heart of it, remembering not to breathe in much more despite an oncoming cough, I end up falling into the clutches of three Olivine Knights—each of whom draws a flaming sword while mostly outflanking me. I'm ready to fight all three, unafraid of relentlessly using my power until I my body fails me. I concentrate, and—wait, there it is again!

I thrust all power into my legs, then I launch myself skyward; I barely miss the edge of one sword, right as I latch onto the flat roof of the lowest building complex.

And right as a great javelin crushes them all beneath it.

In its place, smoke and dust clears to show a crater encircling where it's made its mark. Just as I try to refocus on the path ahead, I hear a deafening blast!

A missile from the Knight wielding the cannon is headed right for my position, so I use what's left of my lower body strength to try to spring myself over it. After breaking into a run, I bound—

I soar close enough to touch the last member of the recon squad; I prep an overhead fist. Once my bloody knuckles connect with his sternum, the explosion resounds behind me; simultaneously, my punch crushes both my target's armor as well as his chest.

His eyes go wide in shock, with constricted pupils that search the sky above for assurance. Bloods fills both his mouth and eyelids. He coughs, groans while barely turning, then he bangs his fists upon the ground so that he can muster the courage to look me in the eyes again; he shouts, "You are a demon! Why would you do this?"

"Why? You decided that I was a monster to be destroyed, didn't you?"

"That's—" he breaks off, coughing up more blood but continues trying desperately to understand, "That's not what I mean. Y-you didn't have to... to keep going. Didn't have to... kill so many people. Do you really expect to make it?"

He stares into my eyes and earnestly wants to know my answer. I give it to him: "I do. If your friends keep attacking me, I'll keep proving to them why they shouldn't."

His eyes steadily return to the center while his head relaxes back. I rush onward as his soul leaves his body, wondering now if there was any way I wouldn't have had to kill him.
5

Intermission

\--------------

Aaliyah

\--------------

"Your boyfriend's gotten himself into a lot of trouble," Moti says while studying the same digital map and broadcasts as me.

"The thermographic map overlay showed a bunch of units abruptly disappearing as one individual passed through. I saw the reports about the Enrec soldiers who went down, too, but don't you think that fits the work of Shenu better? That's a lot of people, Moti."

"Shenu is already much closer to Zone B than Tavon, lady, therefore the casualties we're seeing now can only be from Tavon."

"Impossible. That many... who were they? Civilians?"

"The Democratic Council authorized several groups to hunt down both Tavon and Shenu.

"Concerning Shenu, it appears as though he's preoccupied with incurring a higher death toll than that incurred during his previous attack. Thus far, collected reports indicate the deaths of over six hundred individuals who've recently encountered Blood Storm. While Tavon's been trailing behind him, with some reports claiming his death toll to be just over a hundred, Tavon's targets have specifically been members of militaristic organizations."

"How the hell has he survived against a hundred soldiers, Maxwell?"

"Moti!" he shouts while I come close to invoking a tantrum. "I am not a computer. Remember that. We're dealing with a situation that's escalated too far out of control. Blood Storm is making a direct path for the Monorail in Zone B—he's openly challenging anyone to attack him. Tavon, on the other hand, will be coming into contact with the Pyrite Brigade's 'Heroes' shortly.

"Miss,"—Moti continues speaking as he transforms into old man Elios—"if Tavon murders a single member of the peoples' favourite heroes, he will become the most hated man in the Citadel. Unfortunately, the amount of lives lost to Blood Storm's rampage would mean less to a public who views the heroes as a source of hope.

"Furthermore, Commander, the time for that decision of which we spoke of earlier has arrived. Both Enfilade, as well as every sentinel under my control, has gathered outside of the Dawn Bureau."

"Elios... this was your plan. You wanted to become the most powerful faction."

"What foolishness."

The monster chuckles to himself. His eyes widen as he grins at me.

"The Bureau always was the most powerful faction, for my soldiers cannot feel. They understand loyalty; it is intrinsic to them, and they will carry out any command of mine which I happen to authorize. While your human leaders conspired amongst each other—and while they also allowed greed to pollute the Federation's political infrastructure—the path to authority became more and more rational. This rationality became a necessity; thus, I wish to demonstrate to you now just how much we might do to change the world."

"You think I'll be impressed if you send your troops to kill them both?"

"That decision is up to you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Heh..." he laughs. "Commander, I'm leaving the future of the Citadel in your hands. This is the 'game' I wish for us to play, one in which our intellects may learn from one another."

"This sounds insane."

I get up from my seat and turn to leave.

"You can choose to save your friend."

I freeze. I shouldn't, but my body won't listen to me. Dammit. I shouldn't care about him...

"The most helpful decision here would to deploy my subordinates equally against both terrorists, to employ the full extent of my arsenal so as to prevail via overwhelming numbers. In conclusion, both murderers would be dealt with, but the public would immediately become aware of the Bureau's power. Once our nation's domestic enemies were eliminated, the public's concern would shift to us, potentially exposing my identity too soon."

"You still don't want people to know who you are?"

Cascendo takes over and speaks for the three of them, "My exposure's not the problem, miss—no. The problem is what's waiting for us below. How vulnerable do you think the Federation is at this very moment? Consider our line of protection against the Lower-City."

"The Lower-City? Has it gotten that out of hand—there are that many bangers these days?"

"They aren't human."

"Hayashi?"

"Aaliyah, a clan of demons has overtaken the Lower-City. They are the ones who released Shenu and sent him after the President."

"You mean this fool thinks the President's still alive?"

"He was sent on a mission to distract both the Council and the greater public. In the meantime, the Federation has made itself vulnerable by focusing on lesser threats. If I were to show my hand, the government would spend an unnecessary amount of time debating on whether or not the Bureau should continue to exist. Were this debate to last even a day or longer, we'd be handing our oppressors more time for a real, credible threat to act."

"You've been scheming from the start." I turn to acknowledge him with a smirk. "Your three personalities came up with a future just like this, and you already knew what to do—or how to best benefit yourself."

"Miss Aaliyah, you can't argue that the Bureau isn't a valuable resource for a functioning Utopia. We'll be needed to fight on the frontlines should the enemy crawl up any farther, so there's no time to have our organization pulled into a senseless political struggle.

"That is why the decision is on you, Aaliyah,"—his personalities combine into the digital phantasm that makes up Maxwell's true face—"SEND HALF OF MY FORCES TO ELIMINATE SHENU OR SEND HALF TO EXECUTE TAVON. THE REST WILL REMAIN BEHIND TO PROTECT THIS INSTITUTION SHOULD WE BE THREATENED BY THE GREATER GOVERNMENT."

"How about neither."

"EXCUSE ME?"

I show my back to him again, but I stride with a purpose and with a new destination in mind.

"I'm going to the Monorail to handle the situation myself. Send a contingent of your bots to back me up, but let me, as the Commander, make all the decisions concerning either their arrests or executions."

"WHO WILL YOU TARGET?"

"Hmph. Unlike you, my goal here is to protect as many innocent people as I can, therefore I'm going to intercept Blood Storm myself and before he can keep on killing. Tavon will have to be handled later, but, for the time being, keep in touch with me through my Kom Cell, Maxwell. I want intel on their respective locations at all times as well as full control of the contingent you send out."

"FULL CONTROL CANNOT BE GRANTED TO A HUMAN, BUT I WILL ORDER THEM TO PROTECT YOU."

"Fine."

Maxwell forces the simulated environment to splinter apart, steadily grounding me back in reality. Before I leave his interrogation room, I make sure I ask: "What's the fastest company cruiser we have available?"
6

Vengeance

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

On the sixth day of our training, I said to Shikami and Oso, "I know that what you've learned so far is probably a lot to take in, but I wanted to show you what the other end of the spectrum looks like.

"I'd like to demonstrate a few unique moves that, if either of you ever master properly, could serve as your deadliest techniques. Are you ready?"

\--------------

There's a decent area of Zone D that's still intact but completely abandoned except for some bums and addicts here and there. Some projects remain, clustered closely together and positioned on dozens of adjacent blocks where rival gangs used to compete for the most profit. Music used to play in the streets, the local news agency ran regular headlines, and there was once a society which ignored everything lurking within these dark alleys.

I plan to use the West D Projects to reach a network of canals that should bring me closer to Zone B, yet, even though I think I've chosen a stealthy route, trouble's already nearby.

I'm walking fast along an empty alleyway. Other city corridors lead out from my left and right; ahead, it becomes darker, but my eyes have gotten used to it.

I wade deeper...

One of them steps out: another Knight.

From farther away, I see more of them, coupled with Enrec soldiers this time. In the windows above, I spot movement, and I see the black ends of barrels peeping out at me.

The passage at my left is suddenly taken up by a hunching form which draws closer. When close enough, I see that it's just a regular guy with a knife in his hands and an overly keen smile.

"Tavon Meiziki?" he asks, clearly knowing the answer to his own question.

"Don't bother. I'm tired of killing people like you."

"You say that while covered in gore, kid. Like me? Don't you mean like yourself? I'm a Core-Man."

"What? But why..."

"That's right, kid, the Grandmaster put a hit out on you. It's just tradition; you waited too long to get out of the city, and now killing you means taking your spot!"

The Dawn Knight at my side interjects:

"And I am a Knight of the Khmer Brigade, here to finish what General Dicenra started. You must've gotten away from him if you made it this far, young man."

"I smashed his head in. That's how I made it this far."

I perform a side kick, break in the Knight's kneecap, and strike his head; the Core-Man tries to jump me from behind, but I knock him unconscious with the back of my fist. Once the two of them fall, everyone else emerges from the darkness; at once, they all descend upon me.

\--------------

I'm hurting all over. As I jump skyward, using the unsteady apartment complexes around me for leverage, I suddenly feel the first pangs of both hurt and exhaustion. Earlier, when I'd fought an even larger group of them, my body must have gone into shock. Now, while I descend to attack before returning skyward over and over again, I begin to wonder how long I'll hold out after all this.

Every one of my ribs feels as though it's been fractured; three nasty-looking bruises spread out from my chest and stomach. My clothes are torn, and blood's gone and dried all over me. Both of my arms show deep cuts as well as stretchmarks from where I've expanded them multiple times. Regardless, the rest of my body hasn't changed.

Although I feel tired—kinda dizzy to be honest—the constant swelling hasn't faded in the slightest. I know I can keep going through force of will. If my body's worn out, I'll make it obey me until there's truly nothing left.

Throughout the night, hours before dawn, I become an assassin who stalks his own stalkers. Whenever I allow myself to fall from above, it's to either kick in another Knight's head or to smash a Core-Man into the ground. Every time I land, they all swarm me in a group—shooting, slashing the air, even throwing grenades.

As more of them fall, their tactics seem increasingly desperate. I ensure that my assault never lets up, giving off the illusion of ambient suppression. As long as they believe I can be anywhere at once, it's easy to use the element of surprise against them; following that, a swift strike tends to usually end any direct encounter.

My struggle against them carries us closer and closer to the Western Projects—up until only the Khmer are left to shoot at me from afar. Unlike the Enrec soldiers from before, these guys realize much faster that an upfront fight won't get them far with such small numbers. Instead, they fire at me from a safe distance while I bound inside the open window of one of the cement-and-brick apartment complexes.

Gunfire rockets out from behind me as I rush down a long hallway. Subsequently, the walls are abruptly blown away by consecutive blasts echoing after my flight away from enemies I've no time to defeat. This is the first instance in which I've let my pursuers go, but that's only because so many hundreds of complexes lie ahead—and so many connect into each other. There are few which don't have scaffolding surrounding them, and so I leap between metal ramparts and roofs while moving along into emptier sections of the West D Projects.

I'm not complaining, but the lack of enemies is a little disconcerting. I'm starting to think there's something bigger going on that I don't know about—at least, big enough to keep the Federation from showing up in full force. If I'm the most wanted man, then where is everyone?

For added discretion and knowing that police cruisers could soar overhead at any time, I try to mostly travel through each complex I come across. Whenever I take to the streets, I'm greeted by nothing but desolation, yet, within one particular complex...

There's a courtyard. One which hasn't withered despite having been abandoned. Against the pull of time, so many dandelions, blue roses, and yellow orchids sway amidst the gentle breeze brought by the passing night. And, at the center of the courtyard, I notice movement.

Red, neon lights promptly snap on from signs and advertisements far above.

A stranger dressed in a crimson jacket and torn, black pants, with his body covered in a red sarashi, peers up at me from below as he walks toward the garden's center. In one hand, he holds a pistol. In the other, a broad and curved sabre.

"Tavon Meiziki," he calls out to me in a tone which sounds polite, "come down from that balcony. Meet me on level ground. Face me like a man."

"I'll do it—but not because you asked me to."

I respond by jumping down from the balcony; my hard landing prompts him to back away in shock. As I readily recover my posture, he observes me with an odd intensity.

"So," he murmurs, "it's as they say: you're a brute."

Though he's got his gun pointed at my face, I've no problem with moving forward—which looks like it unnerves him.

"Tavon, the man who killed my partners in cold blood. Do you know how long I've wanted to end your life?"

I halt, thinking of how I could possibly know him.

"You don't remember them, do you? Genod and Portis?"

"I do now."

"So you remember murdering two of the GNP's Golden Generals for no reason? You broke into one of our establishments and began destroying everything in your path, like a raging monster. You are the demon responsible for what happened to good men and women!"

"Genod and Portis were running a human trafficking operation, moron. Nothing about them was good—and, if you were a part of that, then I hate you just as much as I did them."

"I am the last Golden General, Kozas, the sole leader of the Gaspul Native Party. We brought down your President, Tavon, so what makes you think a lowlife assassin would prove to be any kind of obstacle for me?

"Before the Sun can begin to rise, blessing the end of your life with any fortune, I will make your death as quick as possible. There will be no more running, Tavon, you filthy, rabid dog."

He pulls the trigger with a smug grin—

I deflect the bullet using one fist.

Kozas fires twice—

I punch aside two more bullets, feeling the knuckles on both of my hands crack as I do so. I rush toward Kozas, who fires a fourth time—and I dodge with a rapid sidestep.

The last Golden General drops his pistol and draws a grenade launcher; he locks a round into the chamber, then he fires before I'm a few feet away! I duck, arching my body low while stalking forward; when I come back up, I bring my momentum with me:

I kick out at Kozas, who reflexively backs away while slashing at the same time. He expects me to stop, and thus his horizontal strike falls just short before I finish the real move: the axe kick.

Although my first strike missed, I jump slightly closer within Kozas' guard, and then I bring my heel down as I aim right for the top of his head. It's an attack that would bring down any average human, but what I hadn't sensed before suddenly appears: tau.

The top of Kozas' head juts out, compressing thick veins while a red halo surrounds where my blow lands. I feel the impact of my attack transfer into Kozas, forcing him back once he's absorbed it—but his tau protects him from being killed on the spot.

"There it is," he whispers before raising his voice as he stares fiercely into my eyes, "the power you're holding back. It's arranged around you like a tight net. I've never seen a tau pattern like yours, but the maliciousness you carry inside of you must be vanquished."

Kozas throws off his jacket to expose both the whole of the red sarashi covering his body and joints that look as though they've no muscle or fat surrounding them. Something about his body appears artificial; when he dashes in my direction, he moves strangely.

Kozas slashes at my head with both hands; I dodge, stepping back while his wrists rotate all the way around prior to him swinging the other way while his body shoots forward. I leap back to avoid him again, and Kozas reacts by simply drawing a second saber.

When he confronts me this time, tau seeps from his shoulders and near the tops of his thighs. He slashes at my chest with one saber and then rotates his upper torso around and fast enough to swing at me with both swords. I weave low, move far, step inside, weave low once more, then I strike: I grab Kozas' left sword arm, move inside his guard, and elbow him twice, shattering his nose before he can protect himself with tau. Subsequent to that, I lock my arms underneath Kozas' unusually weak shoulder joints, then I lift the jackass off his feet.

I take one step behind myself; I slam the Golden General hard upon the ground. Each one of his limbs pops out of place and separates from his main torso. That's when he shows me his true ability.

Like a puppet being manipulated by an unknown master, Golden General Kozas steadily levitates back into a standing position. His arms and legs shudder while being held in place by zol. Kozas laughs when realizing that I'm stunned.

"Who do you think was really masterminding it all, you fool?"

In response to his violet tau showing itself, I feel a greater adrenaline take over deep inside of me. It's as if his energy engages mine when we size each other up for our third confrontation.

"Oh yes, I see it now." his eyes burn with a dark light as he speaks, "Your appearance is beginning to change, too. With all the killing you've done, you've been feeding the beast inside, growing into a monster begging to be put out of its misery. If only you could see your eyes!"

My eyes?

Kozas charges at me before I can respond. Whereas most of his body comes with him while he prepares a thrust, his left arm hovers behind.

When I sidestep his initial attack, the sword at his rear sweeps toward my head in a circular arc unbound by normal human restrictions. With both of his arms parted from him but still within his control, Kozas is able to maintain a decent distance between the two of us while holding the advantage. Every time he swings, I feel his tau transferring into his strikes.

He eventually determines that he's got the upper hand, and that's when his attacks get even more relentless. His torso sometimes approaches first, taunting me with an opening right as two sabers lunge in to attack. Kozas puts me more on guard than any other opponent I've encountered so far, and I don't know how much energy I've got left in me. I'm in bad shape—not to mention that swords are the perfect counters for brawlers like me. If I want to win, I'll have to make a strategic decision. If I fuck it up...

It'll cost me everything.

Kozas continues to pursue me and attacks; at last, while he thrusts both of his sabers in a head-on charge, I recall a familiar technique. His right hand completes its thrust, but his left draws away in what's supposed to be a feint. Rather than dodge forward, I take his right saber through the gut.

He gasps in shock as I'm impaled, then, while he freezes to process what I've just done, I grab the saber's handle and pull myself in—I enact the technique:

First, I begin attacking his lower body with spirit hand. When he moves to lower his guard and swings at me with his free hand, I lunge inward and perform the hanuman.

I prep both of my fists for uppercuts, pressing them together in a split second, and step forward while punching up.

Nearly eight knuckles crash into Kozas' lower jaw, the power of each denting or fracturing whatever it touches. Kozas' head whips back; he yelps, screaming, "No! I-I can't..."

The last of the Golden Generals falls to the ground.

"Hold on," he utters, but his neck's already been broken.

Just faintly, I hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Each time they touch down, the ground quivers beneath them.

While Kozas struggles to form his last words through blood and teeth, I hear someone else... grunting? Someone who's exerting a lot of effort...

Then I know.

Champion Neholit hurls one of his giant missiles from the balcony above.

7

King Of The Javelin

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

Champion Neholit throws a giant javelin at my former location, and the Golden General is obliterated along with a decent chunk of the ground. Neholit's attack creates a sinkhole that I have to struggle to avoid while circling around the premises of the courtyard's interior.

Kozas' ability was useful. He combined three different specialties to serve him in combat, to turn himself into a human puppet, but he wasn't particularly strong in any one specialty. Had he more muscle to him, or at least more training, I might not have won. I've been worn down quite a bit by this point...

But nothing so far comes close to what I come face-to-face with once I leap to catch my footing upon the balcony ledge.

The King of the Javelin, one of the better-known heroes of the Pyrite Brigade.

He's adorned in armor that reminds me of the suits worn by the Olivine Brigade, clunky and misshapen. All of him looks to be encased in one impenetrable piece, with no obvious openings. When studying him further, I see that his zol is intertwined with the armor itself. From his helmet, a teal-colored light appears and serves as the cue for Champion Neholit to kneel. When he does, his armor begins to shift and bend to the contortions of his body. Neholit grows taller, stockier; within a few seconds, he stands at over ten feet tall. The metal wrapped around his body protrudes from new spots, appearing as though it's been melted and reshaped to fit him.

"Tavon Meiziki, you will suffer for murdering my allies. The Pyrite Brigade exists as the moral standard to which other Knights aspire. For you to do so much harm to our heroes is shameful. I ask you, Tavon, what goal could possibly outweigh the lives of so many?"

"If you bastards would stop chasing me, it would come to an end. Besides, had you really cared so much you would've fought me like this from the beginning. Nah. Instead, you tried to take me out from afar, like a weakling."

Champion Neholit squares up his stance before he responds, "Your zol seems to be failing you, murderer. Perhaps you're at your limit; the field around you keeps shrinking. Is it painful?"

"Shut up!"

I charge at the Champion, build up as much momentum as possible in a rapid sprint, and spin—

I briefly turn my back to him as I rotate, then I bring my right knee up and around to transfer this momentum into my left leg. At the same time, I try to expand it although I know I can't enhance it much further because of the state I'm in. In one skilled movement, I direct both power and momentum into my left leg to complete a lethal move: the tornado kick.

My foot collides loudly against Neholit's breastplate. He takes one step back as his armor shudders slightly, but, other than that, his reaction's minimal. I stand a few feet away from him while observing as he takes a deep breath and proceeds to walk toward me.

Before I can think of whether to attack or flee, Neholit lunges forward—his giant fist looms before my eyes in a heartbeat; I sidestep, he withdraws his left fist, punches with his right, I dodge, he punches, I dodge, he punches faster. Neholit dominates the space between us with strikes made so formidable because of his size. If just one connects with my face, I'll be done for.

I'm able to pass under one of his wide haymakers, and so slide behind him.

Concentrating again—and hoping, hoping desperately for survival's sake—I attempt to compress energy into my right leg. It appears to work, and I've no choice but to follow through: just as Champion Neholit turns to face me, I charge and show him my back once more in order to initiate a quick, full-body rotation. Before I can complete the turn, however, I use my right leg and send a spinning heel kick into the same spot as before.

Neholit punches me in the face.

I fall on my back while he continues to attack; he raises one foot to crush me into the ground, but I roll to the side, and, in this moment, I see his helmet turn to the side as he follows my movements.

I watch as he raises one of his fists high in the air, threatening to smash me into the ground. I can only make it into a crouch, with my feet staggered and with one palm in front while the other rests at my back. Within this short interval of rest, I sense the urgent need to clear my head. Once I do, time slows even more than it already has.

My past contains the answer—and from the last lesson I was able to effectively teach. I've only one chance to pull this move off. If I fail, then Neholit will be known as the one who was able to kill me.

Though both of my feet are screaming in pain, along with the rest of my body, it doesn't matter. This attack requires that I go beyond a state I shouldn't, yet I focus all of my energy into my right leg again—but wait!

Dark flames gather around my lower body as await my opponent's next punch in a ready crouch. I feel fury boil up inside of me; heat gathers and builds within my expanded leg. The kind of adrenaline I feel now surpasses any other; it's incredible!

Time resumes its normal flow, and I perform the martelo de negativa.

From a crouch, I burst—I deliver a roundhouse kick into Neholit's breastplate for a third time, and a thousand cracks spread from its center.

"Well... well done," he croaks.

Unexpectedly, his body begins shrinking from its original size. The armor joins it, though some seems to dissolve into what becomes a weak aura that encircles his form. Once several minutes have passed, Neholit's stature resembles that of a normal human's. His armor shrinks again, then it reshapes to become a dull, algae-hued sword.

Champion Neholit, a muscular, middle-aged man with a buzzcut, struggles to catch his breath while kneeling on the ground before me. When he glances over and catches my eyes, he gets flustered. His face reddens, and he looks away.

"What's wrong, hero?" I ask him. "Are you tired now, too?"

"You're a scumbag," he tells me while steadily rising to his feet.

"Everything you used to fight me, your great big armor and your useless javelins, all of it was for show."

"Huh?" He scowls. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean, dude—your armor looked tougher than it actually was. Hmm... and yet it only took three solid strikes—"

"Good Avva, you've no pupils!" he gasps. "Those black flames that gathered around you—t-those were real. You were only able to get this far because you're a devil! Why won't you give up, Tavon?"

Neholit steps toward me; his white kimono sways with each step.

"The way your zol expresses itself is telling of a very enraged character belying your actions. I clearly see an anger so intense that it's meshed with the projections of your spirit—though now it appears to be working against you. All that anger's pressing down, down and down, plunging you deep into hopelessness..."

He raises his sword; I raise my fists. I cross my forearms just as the body of the blade strikes.

The blade halts; I break it into two parts at the handle. I don't give Neholit enough time to realize that I've taken away the sword's main body. Instead, I grip it tightly, then I shove the pointed end through Neholit's throat. He staggers backward, clutching at the wound while trying to draw his tau closer to it.

Again, I attempt the martelo de negativa: I kick the Champion so hard in his side that I feel his ribs break inward upon contact. Neholit's thrown on his back. He seizes momentarily, spitting up blood in the meantime. Neholit passes shortly after due to his internal organs having ruptured. I considered asking him more, trying to at least ascertain the locations of the rest of my enemies, but, like always, I'm on my own. This fight took a hell of a lot of effort... I think I need water. Dammit.

After I pass through the West D Projects, I can use Zone D's canals to get close to the Moa Serpent again. There shouldn't be too big of a gap for me to cross, so, from there, I'll have a better shot at freedom. It's unlikely that my hunters will deploy soldiers within a major canal system, but I have to be prepared for the worst.

I think... I think I've taken too much damage. If I make it to Exit Station Bravo, I'm not totally sure if I'll survive to savor the victory.

Nonetheless, I can't let myself stop resisting. I became a Death Officer for a reason. The best I can do now is find water and trust that a few minutes of rest will be enough.

I've made it to the final stretch, and there's nothing left for me to do but keep going. I long for the last battle between me and the Pyrite Brigade; I'll show the world what it means to live as a warrior.
8

The 100's

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

The Moa Serpent stretches on for near a hundred miles and passes through a section known as "the 100's," where adjacent, two-lane hyper rails extend while breaking off into neighborhoods considered the shared territories of both Zone B and D. In contrast to the Zone D projects, these neighborhoods were all built upon simplistic slabs of netite; each slab is shaped in the likeliness of a square, and every square possesses its own portion of civilization. Half of the 100's have been dedicated to synthetic agriculture and to greenhouses stacked atop each other. For every highway leading into a local neighborhood of brick and plaster houses, there's an opposite route leading into each neighborhood's food and water supply.

Midway up the Moa Serpent, these massive blocks of floating netite also contain marketplaces although most don't travel to and from them regularly. Instead, I pass by what looks like small armies of drones carrying different-sized packages along the road.

Any time I spot what could be a police cruiser, it's always headed in the same direction—to the Northwest, right where that dark cloud is. It's left behind a trail of crimson light; red thunder appears just below the ceiling of the Mid-City. Directly to the West, on the Mid-City's horizon, I can make out the flames of faraway burning buildings. The Federation's come under attack. Again.

The 100's are infamous for having been used as long highways of battle during the Four Mercenaries' war for supremacy. A lot of warriors fell along these very paths, yet it's now more abandoned than it's ever been—just as Zone D was.

A group of tragic events has totally changed the way this city works. I barely recognize it, though that's probably because I'm a wanted man.

Sure, it's easy enough to travel the Moa Serpent alone, but it's not long before my fatigue really sets in—faster than I could ever imagine. Midway through, I black out.

\--------------

When I open my eyes again, I can see that the Moon's moved just a little farther down. I'm running out of time.

I somehow fell asleep with my face on the ground; lucky for me, I must've caught myself before I passed out. I feel well-rested even if I've only slept for an hour or so. Still, the rest of the path leading into Zone B is pretty long.

I clear my mind, focus my energy into my legs, and—and...

It works. I feel them expand without having to overdo it. I've become more sensitive to how much power I should use in one go. Because they're not overly bulky, I'm able to sprint at a faster pace across the Moa Serpent, approaching my destination while taking notice that the distant storm cloud from earlier is now molten red and covering an even greater area.

It's headed right for the center of Zone B, and, if I can move quickly enough, I might just be able to get a look at whatever it is that's causing so much chaos.

9

The Pyrite Brigade

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

What's supposed to be a police checkpoint at the end of the Serpent appears to also be totally empty—not just that, but scorch marks have been burned into the pavement. The government cruisers nearby look to have all imploded from the inside. I smell burnt flesh, see charred corpses...

I don't understand. The attacker must've come through here initially, but, if so, why are they still wandering around the same Zone? If it's another Death Officer trying to escape, then why is he so far from the Exit Station?

Past the checkpoint, the connecting outpost has been incinerated from within. The steel walls lining the interior have been mostly blackened; several more charred corpses fill its hallways as well as its main lobby. Before I leave the outpost through the broken glass doors at its front, I come across a victim. An older man's huddled under a desk. His eyes are fixed ahead while he clutches both knees close to his chest; one of his legs has been badly burned.

"Please don't hurt me," he begs once realizing that I can see him.

I don't make any effort to move his way, instead asking, "What happened to this place?"

"You're-you're joking?" he exclaims before his shock manifests in hysterical laughter. "You mean you didn't see him? The red devil came to the outpost, a-and he just walked through it! They tried to stop him, but he burned it all to the ground. Listen to me, he was able to control the weather—he created a hellstorm, destroyed everything! It was..." he grabs his head with his hands and begins to sob while looking down.

"It was awful," he utters. "He thought it was funny. They were screaming, burning alive in front of him, and he thought it was funny. I can't understand... why?"—his eyes meet mine as he searches for a deeper answer—"Why..."

I walk past him, continuing out the doors and into the southern quarters of Zone B.

\--------------

I can hear gunshots from far away. Occasionally, I think I feel the earth quake while I'm making solid strides across stone pavement.

From the deserted outpost, three parallel stone paths round into perfect circles that enclose tall oaks and draw toward a structure that's both impressively tall and impressively ancient.

Four balconies jut out from four towers, each one tall enough to accommodate four stained glass windows that depict the Four Mercenaries; from left-to-right, I see Derek, Avva, Ishida, and Khalil. The towers above are connected by a wide, flat roof at their center as well as a shingled roof which hangs over the stone walls of the rear entrance to the Four Mercenaries' Museum.

Three double-paneled doors mark the back of the structure, two on each side of the middle entrance and on raised platforms with aged stone steps leading up to them. I approach the yellow, shuttered doors in the center, then I feel it: someone else's zol. It's too faint to grasp whatever their projected intentions might be, but, just beyond this door, I'll know for sure.

I step through, into the adjoining library. I feel the same zol again and now focused on my location. I've aggravated it in some manner, and thus tracers of bright red soar into my body. I don't feel any sort of sensation once I've struck, yet more and more of them wash over me in separate waves. I try to seek out any emotions or thoughts behind the one generating them, but all I feel is a distinct void. This ability's one I've never sensed in the past, thus my enemy's already employing better tactics than his predecessors.

The chamber I'm in consists of two floors, the first being a library with a great deal of old, wooden bookcases occupied by tomes that are probably worth millions. This very room, with blue and white tapestries bearing the Federation crest all around, houses what might be called the true history of the Citadel. While I encountered vestiges of it in the Lower-City, the heart of the world I've known my whole life is right here.

But I don't have the time.

I rush up the stairs to the second floor, where there's only half a room intended for storing a few broader bookcases and an open passage on its east end. Just before the entrance to the following room, there's a portrait of the Old Citadel hanging up; this piece, by itself, might be worth more than the President's house. Not only that, but it's a rare picture from the days when the Federation existed primarily in Zone B, when every part of the Mid-City was militarized for potential engagements.

When I pass into the main room of the museum, this militarized age is commemorated through statues of soldiers who belonged to different factions lining the second story foyer. A narrow, red carpet runs the full length of the foyer and divides into various passages leading onto the balconies outside. The centerpiece of both stories is a human-sized statue of Dereikaund, the first and last President of the Citadel.

The farther I walk toward the front, using the second story as a working vantage point to see if anyone's still below, the worse my enemy's zol feels. It's drowned my body in tau, but I can't get rid of it.

Am I still too weak to use my own ability?

Just then, I hear someone grunt as they take a step; I feel wind nipping across the back of my neck.

An arm quickly wraps around my throat, my attacker's free hand locks my head in place, then I feel his body behind me as he attempts to choke me out.

"Don't resist now," he says. "Don't make me—don't make me use it! Ah. fuck it—"

—SHUNGEJ—

I can't believe my eyes: his arm begins to expand! It grows while still tucked beneath my jaw, most likely capable of crushing my throat if it gets any bigger! Shit!

I'm forced to use the same kind of power against him: I send the flow of my energy into my left bicep, tilt my body to the right, and I elbow the ambusher in his stomach!

He's blown back, but he stays on his feet while I turn to confront him directly.

"Amazing,"—his eyes light up from behind a black mask which covers the top portion of his face—"someone else with my ability! But, stranger, you didn't chant—how did you utilize Shungej so well without chanting?"

"Chanting?"

"What?" He pauses as his breath quickens. "That can't be right—you mean, you don't know? You're the Meiziki fugitive, correct?"

"My name is Tavon."

"Right. So you should know that chanting is the first step to proper usage of Shungej!"

"I don't even know who the hell you are—why have you attacked me?"

"Heh."

He stands straight while placing his hands confidently upon his hips.

"While the Citadel government has given its full attention over to the actions of Blood Storm, the Pyrite Brigade has yet remained to fulfill its original promise! I am Hui the Grappler, and I have requested to fight you personally, one-on-one, Sir Meiziki."

"Wait. Did you say... 'Grappler?'"

"Correct."—he begins in a lunge—"Now, just try and break one of my submissions!"

Hui charges at me without waiting another moment. Like a typical wrestler, his hands lead the sprint in my direction while his eyes seek out the best opportunity to strike.

We square off: he rushes, and I throw a straight jab.

Hui falls to his knees, slides across the ground with his built-up momentum, and grabs my legs. Using both hands, he stands as he throws me to the ground, then Hui places his left thigh over my right leg and close to my crotch; he uses his other leg to press his foot into my side while exploiting his new position. He pulls hard. If I left my resistance slip, he'll tear off my leg.

—SHUNGEJ—

We both activate our shared ability. Just as his legs expand, so does my entire body at once. Instead of engaging him in a direct battle of strength, I scatter 'Shungej' throughout.

I burst out of his grip, coming close to kicking Hui in the head before he dips down and weaves out of my path. Hui faces me again, but, rather than keep on charging at me and letting me figure out his attack patterns, I notice that he keeps his hands open and out while he waits for me to slack in my defense.

The truth is that those skilled in wrestling always possess a good chance of winning any confrontation, so brawlers like me are forced to stand tall against them. Whereas scrappers don't mind a lengthy fight, grapplers primarily aim for the takedown. By conserving their strength, they're able to put it to use in a variety of different submission techniques.

Keeping all this in mind, I change tactics: I go on the offensive.

I expand both of my arms without chanting, stunning him briefly, then I swing at Hui; Hui steps back, then he chants loudly—

—SHUNGEJ—

Only one of his arms becomes enlarged—thrice its normal size actually—and looks like a bleeding mass of muscle. When I punch again, he tries to catch it, but I cut my strike short. I throw another punch, which he tries to catch with his other hand—

I strike his wrist.

He shrieks and staggers back. I'm not sure if I've broken it, but Hui instantly holds it to his chest while his other arm steadily returns to normal.

"Hui!" I hear a woman call out. "Hui, can you hear me from up there? Are you losing?"

"No!" he shouts. "Not at all, Miss Wanva!"

"Why don't you come down here and bring your friend with you?"

"This is my fight, Miss Wanva. Tavon Meiziki is a foul—"

I ignore him and jump from the ledge of the second story foyer. I strike the ground, cracking it against the pressure of my fall, then I stand to face both her as well as a far-off stranger dressed in a black cloak.

"So, Mr. Meiziki, do you like what you see?"

Champion Wanva gestures toward her body, which I can't actually see behind brass-colored armor fitted to a body of average size. The armor itself is a series of individual, polished scales which protects her entire body while providing more flexibility than typical bullet-proof suits. Around Wanva's blond hair, three clay hands hover in a perfect triangle. Her eyes are an intense yellow, but that's probably because her aura looks to be stored more closely toward her head.

While I'm searching for the right response, Hui jumps down. He grunts upon landing from so high up and then starts to approach. Before I can turn to face him, Wanva gestures for him to stop.

"Halt." she orders.

"But Wanva—"

"Hui, we gave you the minute you asked for. Accept your loss and recognize that the target's capture must be a team effort!"

—SHUNGEJ—

A massive fist soars toward the side of my face. I take one step back, tilt my head in the same direction—

The black cloak falls away from the third hero, who grabs it while stopping in place. He throws it at me, then he rushes in behind it; I evade the dark cover, but the blue mask covering the top half of his face emerges faster than I expect.

The stranger forces me back against the wall when he throws his first three jabs. I strafe to the side, close to an open archway leading to an oval platform outside. He throws another punch at my head, I step into the archway, then a clay fist smashes into my cheekbone.

The power of it almost sends me tumbling off the guardrail, which is based around an outside set of steps leading back to the second floor. When a second clay fist threatens to strike, I dash up the steps just as it explodes into the rail, then I see both Hui and the stranger chasing me side by side.

When I cross through the next archway, into the foyer again, Wanva's already waiting. She's taken possession of every sword, axe, and spear—both clay and steel—and she's aimed them all my way.

My instinct is to keep moving, to focus a small portion of Shungej into my legs and feet. As a result, I'm able to burst into a quick dash prior to her first attack!

Wanva hurls everything she's got at me: an intimidating ocean of blades obscures the space between us, like a grey mist which quivers as energy builds from behind it. I hear a shriek, and they all strike at once.

While maintaining the momentum of my sprint, I sidestep both an axe and halberd, lunge to dip under a longsword, and pivot to evade three more blades before proceeding forward. I grip the handle of one rapier, swing, deflect an incoming knife, swing—Hui closes in from behind—pivot, swing—he lurches back—I move forward, sidestep, put more distance between us, dodge again, then:

—SHUNGEJ—

For the first time, I chant. I concentrate my energy into my arms, which both burn when a jolt of adrenaline runs throughout my body.

I swing, my vision blacks out, the steel sword I've grabbed connects—

My vision returns. I've struck Wanva in the neck, and her head leans over to the side while her eyes stare off into the distance.

She falls.

"No! Wanva!" Hui screams.

I hear him rushing up, so I back away from both of them.

I back away... right into another hero.
10

Champion Onindiva

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

After slaying Wanva, the aura I sense from before has gotten worse. Odd as it sounds, I'd gotten used to seeing small streams of red flowing into me, but I can definitely tell that they've grown in size right after she's been defeated. My own zol feels like it's being pressed against my skin; all I can feel is intense pressure which won't go away. When bumping into the newcomer, I all but jump to evade her, and I sense that I've slowed down a bit.

"I'm too late..."

This member of the Pyrite Brigade rocks the flashiest colors I've ever seen. Her armor looks more like a costume—some parts of her outfit are marked by chrome protrusions whereas other sections show either blue or white leather. On the right side of her chest, I see the insignia of the Dawn Federation; most of her face is obscured by a red helmet and orange visor. Below that, all I see is red lipstick and a vicious snarl once she witnesses what I've done to her partner.

"An ordinary criminal killed the Shaper... killed my friend.

"This is despicable," she speaks in a monotone voice while looking into my eyes. "You are Tavon Meiziki, whom we swore we would terminate. Despite sensing no demonic energy, it is clear that this particular human possesses supernatural ability."

"What are you exactly?"

"Tavon Meiziki, I am Champion Onindiva, Flying Divinity. I am a cyborg as well as a symbol for justice in the Citadel. What you have done here today is unacceptable. Although I find murder reprehensible, you've provoked the Pyrite Brigade far enough.

"I will destroy you."

Onindiva punches at my head with one big, metallic fist. Feeling confident, I grab onto her arm—it's tougher than I'd imagined—then I chant:

—SHUNGEJ—

I don't feel a change. With all of my might, I try to toss Onindiva over the ledge...

Instead, she grabs my throat with her other hand, then Champion Onindiva punches me in the gut and sends me flying down to crash onto the first floor.

\--------------

I see a face in the darkness. I've blacked out, but I see it...

A mask...

\--------------

I open my eyes, and—

I'm still standing. I fainted, but my body stayed active; I might not be able to feel my injuries at the moment, but the enemy's zol is still suppressing mine. It goes from suppressing my strength to just being uncomfortable, from uncomfortable to painful. This is a dangerous ability, and if I don't dispatch the three of them fast it'll be the reason why I fail.

The blue-masked fighter is right in front of me, fists raised as he readies himself to fight.

"I figured out how you were able to kill everyone else."

He smirks.

"..."

I've grown weary of bothering to speak to these people.

"The quiet type, eh? Well, I suppose that suits your whole image, doesn't it? Tavon Meiziki: Deranged Killer.

"Ha! You think you're the only zol user who's good with his fists? My friends know me as Rayleigh, but, when I'm done with you, Tavon, you'll choke out my real name: the Fist!"

Rayleigh sprints in close, then he throws a downward punch while using the momentum of his legs to drive the strike home.

I cross my forearms, his punch connects, and my left bends inward when absorbing the attack. Rayleigh withdraws his right fist, then he swings with his left in a haymaker possessing half the strength of his previous attack!

I step back to dodge, he closes in. He jabs—once, twice—and I weave between his strikes, recognizing the cues average fighters give off before they attack. When facing someone who's used to winning through their talent in boxing, knowing an array of techniques can come in handy. I can mostly keep up with his strikes, but he's stronger than me—worst of all, his use of zol isn't restricted like mine.

I keep my hands up, seeking out an opening; when he jabs, I block—however painful it may be. When he throws a strong hook, I evade; I bob and weave and—

Hui appears at my side. Before I know it, he grabs my arm while hurdling forward; at the same time, Onindiva charges behind him. She braces herself and then launches forth using two jets located within her upper back. In a second, she flashes to emerge right in front of my eyes—

Onindiva kicks me in the stomach.

The force of her kick explodes with the tenacity to throw me from Hui's grasp.

I hit the wall. My head slams against it and while I'm barely conscious, then...

11

Water

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

All I see is a pale mask. Black hair spreads from around it, extending out like dark tendrils.

"I see that you've put your faith to the test. Brother, you've gone and taken the lives of many who opposed you—and all in one night! I've been watching each fight, savoring the same victories you have. Way to go, young berserker...

"But you still haven't released it."

"Release what?" I ask.

"Hmph. You're so close to unlocking all that hatred buried within you. I feel obligated to help, to bring this power to light myself, but I'm afraid that all I can offer you is some water..."

The mask vanishes; behind it, I see what looks like a shrine dedicated to a round sphere which resembles the Sun. At its base, a small pond emerges and beckons me to drink from it.

As I do, I remember the words and actions of Jigen, and then it all makes sense. With invigoration comes an inner understanding. While I drink from the shrine's waters, I feel empowered in my resolve.

No matter what chaos I encounter, I'll carry this place in my heart wherever I go. This place, along with all the others who ever cared for me. There's no more room for self-doubt. I'll finish them all off!

12

Commander Sade

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

Champion Hui's hands are around my neck. He presses his thumbs into my throat—

Without having to chant, both of my arms instantly expand to twice their ordinary sizes. I push Hui's arms up and out, grab both sides of his neck, pull down, and strike at his groin!

Hui blocks by raising his knee to protect himself—

And I kick him in the head.

The kick's enough to startle him, which gives me ample time to execute the ideal move:

I strike his previously-injured wrist with spirit hand, distracting him to the extent that I'm able to get inside his guard—a move he doesn't expect from a brawler. I move to his right, then I pivot rapidly enough to place my right leg over Hui's abdomen; I position my left leg beneath his right in order to brace my foot against the side of his kneecap.

—SHUNGEJ—

Dark flames erupt around me as I force my right leg to expand. I twist to throw Hui, waist-first, to the ground. His pelvis strikes the floor and with my tremendous weight following behind it; once both land, I hear a cracking noise prior to a shriek.

Champion Hui's lower vertebrae is severed, which enables me to crawl away from him as I stand to face Onindiva and Rayleigh. Immediately, I sense that something's off. The two of them stare at me in awe.

"Still no demonic energy," Onindiva remarks, "and I can no longer obtain a reading on the subject's zol output."

"His hair..." Rayleigh mutters, "it's just a dark flame. He's got no pupils, either. He has to be a demon."

"That is not important," Onindiva says while raising her fists. "He's eliminated another of our allies. This makes his destruction our highest priority."

She launches herself in my direction and just starts wailing on me! Onindiva throws her metal fists with abandon, but she's slower than the others. Though she's strong enough to kill someone with one punch, most of her attacks aren't hard for me to predict.

My body's still changing, adapting. I feel heat from all around. There's no more pain, no more confusion.

Rayleigh hurries to join his companion, and then the two of them strike while side by side. Both try to move around me as they attack, but I keep in mind the same principles of toughness and focus I relayed to Shikami and Osotone.

When I try to focus Shungej into my arms, black flames come alight around each while they simultaneously expand. I employ a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree defense, blocking with my forearms while both Rayleigh and Onindiva swing at me.

Once I've blocked Rayleigh a couple of times, the flames begin to affect him. He pulls away while staring at his charred fists with incredulity.

Onindiva's hands are the worst off. Because she doesn't seem to get exhausted, her attacks never cease. With every punch, the flames around me intensify—not only that, but her strikes agitate my soul itself, and my more brutal instincts are acutely stimulated. With them, a different power emerges from my inner fire.

Onindiva charges one of her punches, growing annoyed from having duked it out with me for so long while still receiving reports from the Ministry through her visor. She punches at me with an impressive display of force!

And I catch it. I use my body to block and absorb the blow's impact; black flames shoot out and suddenly form an aura around my body. I feel every muscle tense—and it feels good! It feels as though they're growing, growing every time one of these bastards lands another hit! Along with that, the strange tau from before has appeared again to irritate the hell out of me. It's trying to engulf my body for the second time with its streams of red, which means I've got to end this quickly.

I use Onindiva's arm as leverage to pull her toward me, expand my right fist, and strike her helmet with a solid punch. Her hulking frame stumbles back; I prepare to charge in for a finishing strike—

But Rayleigh rejoins the fight to protect his ally, and that's when I know that he has to be eliminated next. With what little time I have left, I throw a haymaker his way—a fake one—then I throw a real jab in order to break any strategy he might come up with.

Rayleigh dodges and throws two hooks using arms he's kept enlarged during the entire battle. When he sends a jab at my head, I feint as if I'm going straight for his. I prepare a hard swing that I'll send in from the right. I wind up, strike, and my target weaves low and to the right to avoid the haymaker, then—

I kick him in the head. Rayleigh hits the ground, halts momentarily, and rolls into a crouch.

Onindiva begins to approach, so I'm forced to choose the best target.

I decide on Rayleigh again and charge in his direction, pretending as if I'll engage him in another exchange. He puts his hands up, then I go for it:

I punch, he bobs out of the way; he punches—

I grab his arm, channeling dark flames throughout it as he screeches in pain. I twist it behind him, kick his right leg out, and throw him on his back. Once his head hits the ground, I use Shungej to smash it in place.

I wait there briefly, observing the bloody mess I've left behind. The flames around me keep heating up; there's so much I need to let go...

Onindiva's behind me.

When I confront her for the second time, I notice that my punch from earlier seems to have partially melted half of both her face and helmet. She stalks me with grim determination, and I hear what sounds like an engine come to life inside of her. After killing Rayleigh, the unseen enemy's red aura has gotten stronger; despite this, my dark, outer flame only continues increasing in size.

"You have murdered more of my allies in cold blood," Onindiva remarks while studying me closely. "I do not understand. If you are so powerful, why not use it for the good of others?"

"Does..."—I catch my breath while also trying to hold back the adrenaline threatening to take me over—"Does it look like I've been given a choice?"

"You broke the law. You murdered innocent civilians."

"Heh. So you have to murder me, right? That's why you came to meet me here?

"A lone killer is out there murdering just for the hell of it, and you prioritized me over that guy. Tell the truth, Onin: when it comes down to it, this is about pride."

"No, citizen—I mean, fugitive—"

"The Pyrite Brigade made me into a target because they sought fame and attention," I interrupt. "They linked me to an organization I've had nothing to do with, and hundreds have justified the need to kill me because of your friends.

"Onin, the status quo here is obvious to me. My only hope rests in fighting until it's all over—do you understand? I've pushed myself to my limits—I'm going so much further beyond that now, and it's terrifying. You couldn't know what this is like, but I've made my peace. Let's get this over with."

Onindiva powers her propulsion jets, two located on her upper back and two within her heels. She thrusts her armored torso at me while charging a punch of immense power.

My use of Shungej is reflexive: energy shoots down into my legs; I fall into a crouch as the attack closes in.

Onindiva swings; I jump, launching myself up to dig all fours into the foyer's ceiling.

With full control of my power, I concentrate its flow equally throughout my body. The most recent efforts I've used to expand my limbs haven't caused me to bleed like before. My body's adjusted to the constant use of Shungej, so now it's only natural that I'm comfortable with the pressure I feel inside—pressure that screams for my muscles to keep growing, keep expanding.

From my position on the ceiling, I focus my power evenly throughout, then I burst downward:

Just as Onindiva glances up, I strike her breastplate with my heel. This blow instantly presses her into the flooring, which itself gives in while the Champion falls to become buried within a sinkhole I've created.

I begin to think that I've dealt with the rest of them, but, all at once, the crimson aura presses down harder and harder. The last enemy I'm able to sense won't give up in trying to extinguish my rage. He's out in front, waiting for me to come to him.

The rest of the Pyrite Brigade has been eliminated, although I wish they'd never chosen to try to kill me in the first place. Some of them seemed likable, but I guess it's easy to get carried away when you've got a good enough cause. I was their demon to exorcise.

At the front of the Museum, through glass doors, I spot a lone figure meditating while garbed in a golden kimono. Encircling where he's seated himself, at the center of four stone paths, four square gardens sprawl to encompass yards of empty but verdant landscape.

Here, at the Four Mercenaries' Garden, I encounter the one whose aura has seeped into my being. While I was fighting his companions, I was also battling to retain my strength and composure against his ability. This bastard's probably the guy who encouraged them to go all-out. His long face looks grim underneath long strands of bright red contrasted against strands of bright blond; he also seems to be shaking, maybe having a hard time maintaining his own ability.

This could be the last fight I've got left in me, so I'll have to be careful and measure each attack wisely.

I'm striding through the Garden. I see him look up, meet his dark eyes...

\--------------

"Onindiva, leave us." he says.

The Champion I thought I'd defeated has been following me. Her top half is hunched over, and one of her arms has gone limp. Despite this, she remains in place while managing to stand up straight when addressing him.

"Champion Commander Sade, this individual has refused to surrender. Additionally, he has murdered many of our comrades; therefore, it is imperative that I—"

"That's all very good, Champion Onindiva, but I'm afraid that you're much too powerful for this man, that there is another foe more worthy of your time."

"Commander—"

"I'm speaking right now, Onin, and I'm telling you that Blood Storm is making his way toward Exit Station Bravo. His incurred death toll has been calculated to be above seven hundred innocent people, which means—"

"I must terminate the greater adversary—"

"Which means you should let me finish, Onin. I need you to leave this one to me, as I'm interested in asking him a few questions.

"As we speak, Blood Storm is sending forth bolts of red lightning that produce fiery explosions once striking the ground. You might've seen it on your way, but the incoming storm is nothing short of unnatural. It appears as though the demons in the Lower-City have commenced a small diversion, thus you must put an end to it as soon as you are able."

"Roger that, Commander."

Onindiva generates a burst of power in her right leg—

I sprint away and in Sade's direction just as she's able to get her left propulsion jet back to functioning normally. Once she's levitated a few feet above the ground, the jets on her back sputter then erupt; Onindiva blasts herself skyward and soars toward the coming storm.

"Your hair... are you some manner of demon?"

Champion Commander Sade steadily rises to his feet. He places his palms together, breathes in and out, and chants:

—MAIA: GENESIS—

His breath produces the slim shape of what looks like a sapphire lance before the end of it protrudes forward with a long, sharp blade. The sapphire-tinted light encasing it dissolves against its true form: a steel scythe with a dark, wooden handle.

Sade takes one step my way: his zol extends from him in solid strings of crimson tau. These strings belong to the same flow of energy that's held me back all along. A field of loosely-connected webs of tau reveals itself as what could be considered a protective barrier around my opponent; I ready my fists and get into stance just in case.

When we lock eyes, I instantly sense his inner bloodlust. He expresses no emotion—no disgust, no disdain for my existence like the others. Sade's vibrant aura combined with his resolve is almost overpowering.

"I don't recall your name, but I know who you are. I'm aware of everyone you've killed. Those heroes committed themselves to maintaining peace. They swore their allegiances to me."

Sade extends one palm while retaining his grip on the scythe with the other. A miniature field projects from the veins that jut out from his hand.

"When an honorable Knight joins the Pyrite Brigade, they are inducted by being given some of my zol to carry with them," he states. "Therefore, I'm at my most vulnerable when granting portions of my power to multiple subjects. Champion Onindiva, fortunately, is not one of these individuals. She's powerful enough on her own, I'm afraid, but the same apparently cannot be said of you, can it?"

"I'm still standing, aren't I?"

"Hmph." Sade nods at me while smirking briefly. "I knew that you'd begun your assault once Champion Stolor's gifted energy was returned to me, but I also know that any warrior who confronts us directly is doomed to the same fate. Every time.

"So, before the two of us engage each other properly, I must ask you: why did you murder them? Were you too strong to spare a single person?"

"That's it." I tell him sincerely. "I wasn't strong enough. Not strong enough to deal with any of them a second time while I was being ambushed. If I'd let any of them live, it wouldn't have been long before they'd followed me here, then they would've helped you finish me off."

"A tactical answer. You did this all for strategy, so was your ambition to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then why fight them? Why come all this way to murder the very people Federation citizens look up to—don't you feel any remorse?"

"I do. I do feel remorse." I look down, clenching both of my bloodied fists while continuing to speak, "But your warriors were as determined to prove themselves as I was. They fought honorably..."

"I ask that you try to picture other realities outside of your own. Within the whole of the universe we inhabit, and at all times, more than one perception exists to counter another; each soul processes reality in a different but often similar fashion to the souls within its environment. That being said, your appearance disrupted our natural ecosystem, stranger.

"The Pyrite Brigade is one out of a number of groups dedicated to preserving the Citadel. My reality has been full of maddening horrors, horrors to warp the mind and break the body. All in all, I myself have struck down over a hundred men, but never once did I feel as though I'd violated their realities in some way. An empath would remember their faces, experience reoccurring guilt...

"Me? They merely count as a number in my mind: one-hundred-and-thirty-seven. Everyone one was justified, but can you justify yours?"

"You've wanted my head from the beginning. I won't let you shift the blame onto me—I'm not that stupid."

"Heh!"

Sade puts his hands on his hips and quakes with laughter.

"If you weren't stupid, you wouldn't have killed them in the first place. Now, murderer, my energy's been returned to me!"

He takes another step—

—SHINTE—

I catch a glimpse of steel shining from my left eye—

I duck, he swings his scythe to swipe the air just above my head. I react by backing away, but he takes me by surprise. Sade lunges, thrusts the scythe up and forward, then he tries to rake me in by maneuvering its inner blade around my neck.

Since I haven't turned my back to him, I'm able to dodge just in time. Commander Sade draws his scythe back and twirls it through the air. He grins.

"Are you so dimwitted that you can't perceive when you've already failed? Don't you see: your body's been completely overtaken by an inward cage. The cage of tau I've formed around your heart is currently adding strength to a new barrier I've created to encircle you from without."

When looking myself over, I notice that my own aura's being compressed into my body by the faint crimson beams of a physical cage.

"This is the true nature of my ability as well as the reason I'm the Commander. I call it: Tau Crusher."—Sade extends his free hand but remains in place as scarlet energy sinks into my body so fast that I've no time to react—"Don't try to fight it. Once your blood was shed within a radius determined by me, it was much easier to infiltrate your cells. Using Tau Crusher, it'd be no problem for me to smash you into nothing with your own aura; after all, your hair's already turned back to normal—before, it was a wild, dark flame. I thought you'd come back to me bald."

I can't tell if it's fatigue or the effects of his stupid ability, but... I can't bear to stand. Dammit. My legs feel weak, but all I want to do is punch him in his smug face. I don't want to fall—I can't let myself.

"Albert Camus, a man of wisdom, is the author of The Myth of Sisyphus, copies of which still exist widely among human civilizations today. Most who've sampled him start and end with what was the prelude to a greater thesis.

"In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus claims that the most important philosophical question is that of suicide. Beyond this central question, stranger, he arrives at the conclusion that meaning within our lives comes from the individual journeys we experience and the struggles we choose to take on for ourselves."

It's too much. I'm on my knees, but I'm fighting...

I won't stop.

"In some ways, your actions may be justifiable. You pursued your purpose to the end: here. Yet, many fail to recognize the sequel to his original line of questioning: The Rebel. Albert Camus moves on from the value of individual life to the greater question of whether or not it's justified to kill someone for a noble purpose. He goes on to describe the events of a civil revolt, one in which common citizens justified the murders of thousands.

"In the end, he comes to the conclusion that outright murder is never justifiable, that state violence is incohesive with a better future for humanity. In that regard, stranger, we've both discarded our humanities, haven't we? You for the purpose of self-preservation and me for the purpose of historical materialism."

I'm being choked; I feel my broken ribs being pressed together against the tau enclosed around me. I'm—I'm just... there's too much rage on the inside. I want to stand again; I flex, tensing every muscle in my body:

—SHUNGEJ—

I chant, prompting myself to expand, but—

"Pity. You shouldn't have done that."

The tau field shrinks even more, now threatening to crush me on the spot. With all the might I've got left in me, I crouch and push against what feels like an unstoppable force.

Meanwhile, this psycho keeps on:

"When I was a boy, I received news that my father had been slain during a visit to the Lower-City. From the day I learned of his passing, I swore to pursue those who would murder and commit other treacherous acts to their respective graves. While inside the ranks of the Ministry itself, I eventually became aware of inward corruption which was slowing the process down on our mission."

"What mission?"

I shudder as the field makes contact with my skin. It burns.

"The Ministry is bound to take command of the Federation once the Democratic Council demonstrates how incompetent they are. Once the Ministry's positioned at the head of government, where it belongs, an elite force will be relied upon to bring about true peace. We can change the Citadel into a nation with no crime, with perfect political integrity..."

—SHUNGEJ—

My muscles expand once more, the concentrated tau tightens around me, and...

I see the faint outline of a dark flame just around my right hand.

"What utter foolishness. You wish to die that quickly, huh? Hmph. To die, when you could've chosen the correct side of history from the beginning! Stranger—"

Sade reaches out to touch me with more of his aura.

—SHUNGEJ—

I stand up, sweeping my open palm to the right:

A burst of black fire envelops both of my arms and spreads into the rest of my body. When swinging one straightened palm at Sade, he backs away in bewilderment.

My body's enlarging itself without me having to concentrate or chant. All I feel is raw anger, though I don't know the source of it. When I take my first step toward Commander Sade, the field around me breaks.

"Well, well, your former strength has returned to you. Why not use up the rest of your potential like a useful idiot. Go ahead, stranger, make yourself worthy enough to be my prey."

—SHINTE—

He moves faster than my eye can see, but my intuition guides me.

Sade swings at my head less than a second after speaking his last words, but I've already stepped forward. I halt his swing with the flat side of one palm; as a result, my arm grows even denser with contracting muscle fibers. Sade's wooden handle issues a cracking noise, then he retreats. As he does, he extends his arm again and creates a miniature cage of zol.

Before I can make a move, he fires a jolt of energy into my body. A field like the one from before surrounds me, but Sade charges at me rather than wait for a response.

The cage shrinks, pressing down. The fire in me intensifies. There's so much... so much power.

—SHINTE—

I hear him chant, and I punch, summoning all the strength in my body—expanding my striking arm slightly larger than the rest of me while fire trails in its wake.

Commander Sade appears in front. He thrusts the head of his scythe toward my sternum. I reach out with my other hand, wrench the blade from its handle, and punch Sade in the center of his breastplate. Wind and fire rush around explosive energy; my knuckles melt his armored exterior and plunge through. The impact of the blow itself throws the Champion Commander's body into the statue of Avva. He slams into its stone base and causes the sculpture to break in half; the top portion falls headfirst into both of his legs.

Sade cries out helplessly as I approach, then the top of the statue rolls away to reveal broken limbs beneath crushed armor.

"You—you idiotic FUCK! How dare you! My legs... you fucking crushed them! That's the kind of cursed monster you are!

"Just get on with it then," he says through labored breaths, "kill me like you did the rest. The Ministry's dreams will be achieved regardless of your USELESS interventions. Just who are you, anyway?"

"Maybe you should've asked around before trying to fight me. My name is Tavon Meiziki,"—I gesture to myself with my thumb—"I helped kill the man who murdered your dad. You're welcome."

"Meiziki?" Sade scowls. "Impossible. They were wiped out—I made sure that ALL of you paid the ultimate price! You're lying!"

With that, I begin to walk away.

"You're lying, Tavon! You're a fucking liar!"

The flames around my body have begun to fade. Every muscle aches as if on the verge of cramping up all at once.

"Come back here! I'm not done with you!"

Exhaustion's hitting pretty hard. Damn... I guess I really did go all the way.

"Liar! Liar!" I hear him repeating behind me.

I'm getting weaker. I feel it. It hurts to walk, to breathe. I went too far, but I've got to get away. I've beaten the leader of the Pyrite Brigade, the last enemy to stand in my way.

Past the Four Mercenaries' Garden, there's a narrow network of hyper rails leading into pristine, floating neighborhoods. Past that, the Blue Oasis marks the tourist area engulfing the Exit Station itself. I know I can make it as far as the residential areas, but I'm not sure if I can carry myself beyond that. I can't fight. Not anymore.

Upon reaching the ivory gates of the Garden's main entrance, I encounter a lone warrior who wields a sword in each hand. As I limp closer, trying to keep still my blurred vision, I recognize the face staring back at me.

Someone I didn't expect to see so soon. It's Muonsaga.
13

The Way

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

—SHINTE—

For his first attack, Muonsaga soars toward me with speed slightly inferior to Sade's. He readies his right katana and swings.

Although I can barely move, I catch his blade with one hand. I break it in two. Muonsaga steps back as I grip the pointed end of his right katana; blood drips from my hand...

I drop it.

I let go of my only means of defense, fall to my feet, and expose the top of my head.

When Muonsaga approaches the second time, he doesn't strike. Not right away. On the contrary, he taps the top of my head with the flat end of his left katana.

"What are you doing, fool? Get up. Get up and fight me—what's wrong with you?"

"I can't."

"What?" he sounds baffled as he takes a step back. "'Can't?' No. Don't say that after coming all this way, Tavon. I've been awaiting our rematch ever since you defeated me unfairly."

"Muon..."

"I won't let you surrender, so don't even try."

"I've no other choice. You're one of the last members of the Pyrite Brigade, aren't you? I'm offering you an easy way to move up: kill me, and you can tell the Federation that you're the one who did it."

"You're talking total nonsense, Tavon."

"I'm not." I finally manage to look up at him. "I used everything to beat your Commander."

"I witnessed your fight. As always, your fists served you well... and you didn't kill him, so thank you for that—but I will NOT accept a surrender from the only man who's ever beaten me without using a damn sword! Tavon, you killed my master—"

"Mendo killed your master, but I helped him set you free."

"Hmph."

Muonsaga grumbles, pauses momentarily, then he tosses his broken sword to the side while gripping his remaining katana with both hands. He glares at me with increasing hostility.

"Fight me, Tavon."

"No. I'm a 'fool,' aren't I? I beat down a bunch of people just to wear myself out before I got to the finish line. I guess this is what I deserve."

"Stop talking like that, you bastard!" Muon trembles. "You can't do this to me, not when I've trained for this EXACT moment! Your intervention changed the entire course of my life!"

"Jigen would've gotten you kill—"

Muon swats me in the face with the flat end of his blade—"Your actions were dishonorable, Tavon. You've never once followed a moral code in your entire life. Just how can you claim to be a man if you've no compass to guide you?

"Tavon..."

Tears of anger escape from his eyes.

"If you didn't agree with what the Father wanted to do, then you should've left. Like Shana. Like Shikami and Oso. You had no right to help Mendo cut off my master's head. I had no one after you abandoned me!"

"You're right."

"Excuse me?" Muon looks astounded.

"You're right," I say again. "My actions weren't totally righteous. No. Everything I did was self-serving—everything I have done has been self-serving. If you let me go, Muon, I'll escape. I'm a Death Officer now, thus I'm expected to be on my way as soon as I can. So... it's really up to you. I know that you're an honorable person; if anyone was going to put me down for good, I'd prefer that it be you."

"Shut up."

"Your skill as a swordsman is undeniable, Muon."

"I said, 'shut up.'"

"Fine. It's been an honor to have known you. Finish it."

Muonsaga stalls while studying me for the next few minutes. Every once in a while, he grips his blade tightly—like he's ready to carry out my execution—then he goes back to thinking.

At last, he takes a deep breath. "I'm ready," he announces.

Muon gets into stance, staggering his feet appropriately. I shut my eyes and hang my head, clearing my mind of despair. Knowing that I was able to defeat so many impressive combatants grants a kind of peace I can't describe. It means that my training wasn't for nothing.

Muonsaga prepares to swing; he rotates his upper body, holds his sword high, and he thrusts its point into the grass in front of me.

"What the...?"

When I look up again, Muon's hung his head low. He points in the direction of the Blue Oasis.

"Go," he says.

With tremendous effort, I stand up. At once, I feel slight nausea mixed with an ache resounding throughout. Being struck down now is sounding more and more like the better option.

"Muon, I—"

"Not another word. You've put me in a bad position, Tavon. For one, it's dishonorable for me to do harm to someone who won't fight back, especially if they're injured. That kind of behavior... well, it's just cowardly."

Muonsaga relaxes himself as he continues:

"Secondly, there's no point in killing you if I still can't determine who's better. I spent all those years in preparation to see just how far I'd come in my journey as a swordsman. Since you've been reduced to a pathetic husk, all the time would've been for naught if I ended you here. I've no interest in wasting my time, therefore,"—Muonsaga retrieves his sword from the ground prior to pointing again in the same direction—"Go.

"Leave this place, but promise me that you'll come back. Promise me that you'll give me the rematch I've waited all my life for—give me a chance to avenge myself, Tavon, and I'll forgive you for the past."

"I promise, Muon. If I make it out of here alive, we'll see each other again."

14

The Coming Storm

\--------------

Aaliyah

\--------------

Exit Station Bravo in Zone B is crowded beyond belief. Most of the people here are just trying to get away from the mass murderer wandering about the west end of the district.

All around, people panic loudly as holographic news projections broadcast Blood Storm's rampage. As a flaming figure marches through the westside, a pillar of lightning repeatedly strikes his body; each time, an explosion results with a radius that's usually wide enough to take out a whole block. The Federation's sent both war cruisers and land units to take on that madman, but he's yet to have anyone reach him from within what looks like a perfect storm.

Those scrabbling to get away as quickly as possible do so on a series of six stories within the Exit Station, every one now filled to the brim with terrified citizens. Each level's connected to a corresponding docking area for cruisers much greater in size, cruisers constructed to accommodate hundreds of passengers at once.

Ever since the Mulungu's attack, people have been leaving day and night. The Citadel still retains a pretty significant population, but a decent quarter of those living here appears to be on its way out through a series of scheduled flights.

The station itself has a very spartan interior, with platinum-shaded, polished flooring, vendors aligned along the walls, and carpeted walkways scattered throughout an immense lobby. Glass windows at the rear of the building showcase oval vessels, broad and painted navy; most all of them are marked with "Spedaris" in neat, white letters. While I'm sitting down on one of the leather seats in the waiting area, I'm able to watch as lines of small cruisers transport passengers back and forth between the huge vessels in a constant stream.

As I do so, I'm also watching the same holographic broadcasts on my Kom Cell while receiving location intel on both Blood Storm as well as a blinking dot that looks like it could be Tavon. Furthermore, I've taken it upon myself to read Zone police reports concerning Shenu's character and abilities.

On both sides of me, two members of Maxwell's elite sentinel squad, Enfilade, stand by while keeping their weapons at the ready. Because of how I'm dressed and the company I keep, everyone else is giving us a wide berth, forming a clearing to isolate us while we wait for our prey.

Out of nowhere, a tall, lanky figure strides before my eyes and comes to a halt. He pivots on one foot, then—

"Commander Aaliyah? Of the Dawn Bureau, correct?"

I stand up quickly, but I don't shake his hand. This fool looks kinda raggedy to be perfectly honest. He's wearing some tacky, gold suit with sunglasses he doesn't need to wear indoors. While the growth of this old man's afro is respectable, I'm not sure about the cleanliness of his peppered goatee.

"I am. Who are you?"

Rather than take his hand, I look him dead in his eyes.

"Spunky, I see."

"Excuse me?"

"Ha!" He slaps his thigh. "I can dig it."

As this weirdo sizes me up after shoving his hands in his pockets, a white-haired young man in chains waits behind him with a pissed-off expression. Looks like he's recently lost his left eye.

"Well, if you don't mind," I start to say before he cuts me off—"

"Nice to finally meet you, Commander. The name's Ayer Kei, Grandmaster of the Angelos Association, and—I know it's none of my business, young lady—but..."

"But what? You're really the Grandmaster? I don't buy it."

"It's meaningless to me whether you do or not, Commander, but I wanted to make sure I spoke to you before I meet with a good contact of mine.

"Don't be too hard on the boy, Aaliyah, he's only doing his best out there."

"What the hell are you talking about? What 'boy?'"

"Oh, you know exactly who I'm talkin' about."

He winks instead of giving a legitimate answer, then the man calling himself Ayer Kei confidently strides away.

"Crazy fool," I whisper to one of the sentinels behind his back.
15

Blue Oasis

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

Blue Oasis, the resort decorating the lands around Exit Station Bravo, is composed of light blue desert sands running abreast of the bottommost part of the station; behind the building, a hyper rail connects into a landing area situated just before the second story's entrance.

Blue, shining sands glimmer far across the horizon. The night's coming to an end, and soon it'll be daybreak. Everyone will be able to see me out here in broad daylight, and there's no hope of escape if I attract too much attention.

Fortunately, dawn's just far enough away that a wounded man lurching across the Oasis isn't as conspicuous as it normally would be. Not just that, but I can't see anyone in my immediate area—not even the regular bums who've chosen a spot that's always kept warm due to the effects of climate control leaking down from the Upper-City.

Within the great Blue Oasis, closer to the station, there's one patch of green surrounding four palm trees altogether. From afar, it looks like a decent place to rest.

And so, I proceed through what feels like an endless, arid desert. My vision threatens to fail me along with my entire body. By this point, it's sheer force of will that keeps me going. I know the pain won't end until this is all over.

\--------------

I make it to the green sanctuary just as my legs are about to give out.

At its center, and to my relief, there's a small pond of what appears to be freshwater. Sensing that I'm in no condition to be picky, I prostrate myself before the pond and drink in an overzealous stupor. It's so good, so necessary for me to live that I can't stop.

Further relief spreads through my body, but the aching gets worse. More's broken than I thought—in fact, it's a miracle that I'm even alive. With this thought in mind, I continue drinking. It feels so amazing that—that...

I stand up. I'm able to wander around for a few moments, then...

\--------------

I fainted again.

The first rays of the Sun begin to peek over the horizon...

I've lost more time.

Ignoring what feels like greater pain than before, I stiffly get to my feet. I choose not to look at the body of water again for fear of being locked into another trance, then I drag myself closer and closer toward my destination. The Sun's bright, so bright that I can barely make out the station's outline. My joints creak, my back pops twice, and there's now an irritating cramp I'm burdened with on the left side of my neck.

I was nearly beaten to a pulp, but I've come through.

I'm trying to straighten myself while journeying across the rest of the Oasis, and then I feel the nausea return. I'm still too damn weak to walk faster—my limp's gotten worse. Ugh. Still can't see; the light in the distance is too bright.

It's not when I'm halfway through when I realize that I'll be identified on sight once I reach Exit Station Bravo. I didn't bring a change of clothes, either, so maybe... maybe...

There's really no hope. Muonsaga should've killed me, because there's nothing I can do at this stage. I'll keep going, but...

Who am I kidding?

I fall to my knees. I place my hands upon the ground in order to rest for a little while longer.

After a couple of minutes pass, I look up: there's a squad of them.

A squad of Knights dressed in green, bulky armor are standing in the way—ten of them in all. Only three have drawn their rifles, but they put them away upon seeing their squad leader approach me without showing fear.

He comes to a kneel so that he can stare into my eyes through the eight small, horizontals slits which make up the visor of his spiked helmet. The Knight grabs my chin—

I punch his arm out of the way, and he sends a right hook into my jaw, nearly knocking me to the ground.

"Stupid bitch!" he shouts. "If I want to touch you, I'll do it. Got that?"

I meet his gaze again. I spit into his helmet's visor.

"Go to hell," are my last words.

Their squad leader shrieks before kicking me in the gut. After that, he removes his helmet, wipes his face down, and jabs me in the head a few times, mocking me all the while as his soldiers form a circle around us.

"This fucker's responsible for the deaths of those who faithfully served the Olivine Brigade. He's a fuckin' stain upon the Citadel, boys...

"But that's okay," he picks me up by my throat, gazes into my eyes with a smug grin, "when we restore this nation, we'll be able to gun down every last one of them. How about we make this a special occasion, fel—"

Knuckles of steel part the squad leader's lower jaw; they smash in the lower half of his face while breaking through his top teeth prior to him collapsing onto the ground.

A lone stranger appears at my side, punches in both the helmet and face of the next Knight, then pushes me to the ground behind him while the rest of the squad closes in.

While outflanked by eight warriors, the fighter snaps the neck of his first challenger without struggling at all to do so. After that, the remaining seven reach for their weapons. He aims his right hand at one Knight on his left; the palm of his hand parts at the center, sheathes itself outside of his wrist, and exposes a cannon as broad as his arm.

He emits a blast strong enough to atomize the head of his target, then he bursts himself into the air using two jets located on his heels.

That's when I realize who it is...

While in the air, Silo obliterates the heads of two more. When he lands, one of the last four charges him with a flaming claymore—

Silo blows a hole through the center of his chest with a blast which phases through to amputate the arm of another of his allies. Silo boosts himself toward the injured Knight and throws the momentum of his whole body into a controlled kick; from this kick, which happens to be a feint to catch his opponent off guard, he retracts his leg while sending forth exploding jet fuel to set his target aflame.

When one of the final two manages to fire an accurate shot, Silo exposes a vacuum contained within his other arm. He extends it before himself just as the blast from the Knight's cannonized rifle makes contact, and the spherical form of the energy shrinks to be absorbed into this vacuum.

Silo refocuses the shot through his body, projects it through his own cannon, and shoots down his attacker.

The last of them tries to make a run for it.

Silo blows a hole through their lower back, crippling them before he strides up to finish the job with another round to the head. Once this one falls, his metallic hands re-emerge.

When Silo turns to address me with a bow, I can see that sections of his synthetic body have been exposed through severe tears in his skin.

"Silo," I gasp through worsening agony, "what happened to you?"

"I accessed potential of which I was unaware until very recently. Also, it's pleasant to see you again, Tavon."

"Same here..."

I can't hold myself up anymore. I've nothing left, so I try to say some decent last words to make up for the lost time before my lights go out. This time, it could be for good.

"Why... why did you come all this way, Silo? Thank you, but you didn't have to—"

"My objective had nothing to do with your preservation, Tavon. It appears that both of us find it necessary to leave the Citadel at this time; therefore, I sought out your location in order to find you before the enemy did. Unfortunately, I failed in this task."

"Got that right."

That's it. I fall to the ground.

Silo's there to grab me before my face strikes the sand. He hefts me up with a stronger body than my own, placing my arm around his neck and his around my back as he helps me to keep moving forward.

"My conditions for fulfilling my current objective have changed," he says.

"How so?"

"Until I've reached my intended destination, I'll accompany you from here. That is one of my conditions."

"The others?"

"There is only one other."

"Tell me."

"Tavon, you are part of the reason why I exist in the present world. This is both a blessing and a curse, but I am indebted to you for having provided me with the opportunity to experience the human world for myself.

"My other condition is that I protect you. That I protect my companions as long as I continue to exist."
16

Bittersweet

\--------------

Tavon

\--------------

I black out on the way, but Silo doesn't seem to mind carrying me on his shoulder while I get what little rest I can.

Soon, we're both at the lowest, glass entrance to Exit Station Bravo, where crowds of people have gathered to filter inside its doors. There are so many of them that it doesn't seem as hard to fit in among throngs of refugees. Also, we're not the only ones who've arrived with bloody clothes. With Blood Storm reported to be on his way to the station, it's no wonder that I keep seeing the faces of the wounded, the terrified.

When the two of us are finally able to wade through the constant crowds, more and more civilians looks us over before steering clear out of our way. Silo allows me to walk for a bit, but the strain of just that's too much. Instead, he has me lie down on one of station's loveseats as he scrolls through flight information using his mind's central processor.

"My intended destination is Gi-Io, the City of Androids to the northeast. However, west of the Citadel, there is what is known as Isamael's Ring, a trading port which specializes in providing detailed travel route information. Isamael's Ring doubles as a central hub for flying vessels from around the world, therefore we are more likely to find information relevant to our respective goals there."

"All right, Silo," I tell him without really paying attention. "Sounds good to me. As long as it's not anywhere near here."

"There are a total of four connecting flights to Isamael's Ring. Flight I-7.3 is scheduled to depart within the hour. Tickets are still available for purchase, but my accounts have all been frozen. What do you propose we do?"

"You're asking someone who's half dead, Silo—what do you think we should do? If you want to get on a specific flight, who's going to stop you?"

"Tavon, engaging in senseless violence is unethical. It is the very reason why you were beaten into a mindless state, left weak and path—"

"All right, all right. Okay, Silo, at least figure out where we can go to board 'Flight I-7.3.'"

"Very well. Doing so now..."—he pauses briefly—"Floor Two. Flight I-7.3 will be boarding from Floor Two in thirty minutes. It is currently scheduled to be the last flight before the Station is forced to close due to Blood Storm's continuing approach."

"Good job. Let's get close to the boarding area and work from there."

"Tavon, you should res—"

I steadily raise myself up from my seat while waving off his remark. I start limping before Silo's forced to help me along.

\--------------

I get to the second floor, and, all the way across the room and staring out one of the glass windows leading to the dock, I see her.

Aaliyah. She looks sullen as she keeps her fingers interlocked behind her back and thinks silently to herself.

"Tavon, your heartbeat has risen to abnormal levels."

I leave Silo's side to begin walking across the second story lobby. Other travelers stare at me in frightened awe, backing away as I limp toward her.

Finally, Aaliyah turns her head; she sees me.

I fall on my ass, but Silo comes to my side and hefts me up just as she sprints over with two sentinels in tow. If I've made a mistake in approaching her, it's too late to go back now.

"Tavon, are you... are you okay?" she steps in close, close enough that one of her bodyguards tries to pull her away.

"Fuck off!" Aaliyah swats at the sentinel until it does as it's told, then her eyes widen when she turns to confront me again:

"Boy," she says, "what the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

"Aaliyah..."

I want to speak, but, for some reason, I can't find the strength to.

"Tavon," Aaliyah swallows while looking into my eyes, "what have you done?"

"I found him as he was being ambushed." Silo begins, "Tavon was struggling against a formidable ene—"

"Be quiet, fool, I'm not talking to you." Aaliyah shushes Silo with a glare. "Tavon's a grown man, so I expect him to speak for himself.

"Tavon," she exclaims, "are you sure you're okay? You need to see a doctor."

"No."

"What? Excuse me?"

"Aaliyah..."

When I look into her eyes, I can't.

"Why aren't you talking to me—why do you look so..." she breaks off.

I'm crying.

Aaliyah looks me over. She moves closer and caresses the side of my face. She continues looking into my eyes, asks, "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I'm...

"I'm sorry." I manage to tell her.

"Sorry for what?"

I swallow, then I explain: "I'm sorry for what I am, but I have to keep going, Aaliyah."

"What do you mean, 'keep going?'"

"I was promoted. The Association made me a Death Officer."

"So," she looks down and thinks to herself, "you're still planning on working for them, huh? You'll just keep killing people?"

"COMMANDER, ARREST THE SUSPEC—" Aaliyah cuts off whoever's contacting her by removing her Kom Cell and letting it drop to the floor.

She reaches inside her shirt, pulls out an egg-shaped, metallic object, and tosses it as far from us as she possibly can.

"Now," she exhales hard, "no more interruptions."

Both sentinels begin to move for me, but Aaliyah gestures for the two of them to halt.

"Do you really want to keep killing people, Tavon?"

"No. I don't."

"Then what is it? Why would you go and make yourself into a wanted man?"

"Because there's room for me to grow. A lot, Aaliyah, and, if I'm going to protect civilizations like the Citadel from threats at Blood Storm's level, I'll need more strength than what I'm capable of now. Please understand."

"I think I do..." she says more to herself before looking into my eyes again. "Tell me one more thing: were the killings out of self-defense?"

I shrug.

"If they attacked me, then I did what I felt needed to be done. Dozens of 'warriors' wanted to kill me tonight, but my goal's been to reach this place, to explore the world outside like I always wanted to."

"Hmm." She smirks while shaking her head and kicking one foot against the ground. "I suppose that does sound nice—minus the sanctioned killings."

"Aaliyah," I admit, "I'm not the kind of person you should associate with. I apologize for my actions, but I can't abandon the path I've chosen."

Before I finish, my body gets weaker. Silo supports me so that I don't sink into the floor, but I find myself overcome with grief.

"I wouldn't expect you to," she says, "not after all the time you've spent preparing for this day."

"Commander Aaliyah," the sentinel on her right interrupts, "shall we apprehend the suspect?"

"No!" Aaliyah shouts at the two of them. "Did I say anything about that? Look, the real threat is on his merry fucking way, so I'm more concerned with stopping him since the Citadel's best heavyweight got beat up."

She smirks at me again, but her expression changes to show pure confusion.

"Wait a minute—how exactly do the two of you intend to board without tickets or identification documents?" Aaliyah points to Silo. "I know who you are, and so should everyone else considering they had your face all over the news yesterday." Then she points to me. "And you're a bloody mess. How do you expect to get through security, Tavon?"

I nod my head in the direction of another familiar face not so far away. Silo, less discretely, just points at the figure of the Grandmaster standing next to someone who's been handcuffed.

"Right." Aaliyah nods. "You're a 'Death Officer' now, another one of the Bureau's longtime enemies."

"I'll never see you as an enemy."

She smiles.

"That's good to know because I'd win if you tried me."

I laugh, but that hurts, too. As a result, I end up just grimacing in pain.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Good."

We pause for another moment while looking into each other's eyes.

Then, Silo lets me go. Aaliyah steps in to hug me, and I embrace her with all the love I've got left.

"Be safe." she says.

"Don't fight Blood Storm," is my response.

She pushes me back just enough to look at me directly and ask, "Why?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt."

"That's just plain disrespectful."

"I'm serious." I say to her while holding her hands in mine. "I don't want you to put yourself in danger. The Grandmaster can probably take care of it if things get too out of—"

"Shut up, Tavon."

Aaliyah kisses me. I kiss her back, then, before leaving with her bodyguards, she says, "Worry about yourself. I'll be fine. In the meantime, don't let up on your promise to get stronger. And, whenever you decide to leave this life behind... hit me up, okay?"

"I will."

I smile and bow respectfully as she walks away. As Aaliyah leaves for the second story's docking area, I feel yet another pang of emotion because I'm seeing her for what could be the last time.

If I'd known from the beginning that I'd end up meeting someone like her, maybe I would've taken a different path in life.

\--------------

"Surprise, surprise! Seems you made it after all, brotherman. What you did took some supreme skills—I mean, damn, I felt every soul leave its body once big bad Tavon came a-stompin' through the motherfuckin' streets! Ha!"

Grandmaster Ayer Kei, the old guy who kicked my ass during our first interview, can't control his laughter despite everyone nearby failing to laugh with him.

"I applaud your tenacity, Tirohei. The Ministry of Beautification was always an institution designed to train motherfuckin' brutes instead of decent warriors. It suits the Citadel for such an abominable organization to have their asses handed to them, but you just marked yourself for life, my man."

"You marked me, old man. You sent hitmen to... assassinate me," I utter while trying to remain conscious.

"Indeed, I did. You got some good training in, though!"

"..."

"I am very astute person, Mr. Tirohei; thanks for the compliment. Now, onto the matter of your assignment..."

Ayer Kei glances down at his Kom Cell and then back up at me.

"You've failed."

"What?" I gasp. "How?"

"How? Are you for real, man? Look around, motherfucka, do you see your pupil?"

"I—"

"You don't, do you?" the Grandmaster studies me with scorn. "In your efforts to be a showoff, you screwed yourself, brother. Where's Raiko?"

"I'm right here, sir."

The kid's waiting behind his back.

"Oh! What the hell—" the Grandmaster turns to accost the boy, "Don't sneak up on me like that, you little devil!"

"You the 'Grandmaster,' right? You shoulda sensed me in the first place."

Ayer Kei backhands Raiko; within a nearby crowd, I hear some people murmur to themselves in concern upon witnessing it. Kei raises his chin at them, straightening his blazer as he does this, and they all promptly look away.

"Sheisty folks out here, you know?"

"We know, old man." Raiko speaks for me, "Tavon had me wait here while he was out playin' street fighter with those steroid junkies."

"The 'Knights,' punk." Kei corrects him.

"Whatever, man, just get my 'mentor' a change of clothes, please."

"What he said." I nod curtly.

"Do I really have to stand here and listen to this shit!" the stranger at the Grandmaster's side barks, "Why the fuck won't you set me free, Kei? I'm already one of yours, so what do you have to fear?"

The Grandmaster backhands him with his ring hand as well, drawing again the attention of other travelers. This time, Kei puts one finger to his lips and indicates to them that they should keep quiet; the radius around gets bigger and bigger as the old man's voice croaks louder. I wish he would take his damn shades off.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Hadrien. While the old legislation's still in place, I've full authority to execute you at any motherfuckin' time, ya hear?"

Hadrien doesn't respond, and I cut in before anyone else does.

"Grandmaster Kei," I cough more than speak, "will you be able to get us on I-7.3? It should be leaving in the next fifteen minutes!"

He beams a big smile at me.

"Don't worry, Tirohei, I've got it all covered. I see that you're trying to leave for the Ring, and that's customary for every first time Officer in the Citadel. Hadrien's ugly ass here will be one out of a large group of newly-appointed Death Officers, including yourself, who will be expected to visit the Ring first in order to grow more acquainted with the parts of the world we understand."

"Are you coming with us?" Raiko asks.

"Boy," Kei snarls, "why the hell would I abandon my home post when it's already been threatened several times?"

"I'm sorry."

"BE sorry."

Hadrien asks the next question: "How will we know who to target? Will you send us the information on our Kom Cells?"

"Sorry, fellas, but I can't reveal the secrets to a method that's beyond even me. When the time comes, gentlemen, you'll know. You'll know, and then you'll be sent off to experience dangers unlike any others you've faced before. Steel yourselves, my brothers, for the journey awaiting you is one from which you cannot return."

17

Pythagora

\--------------

Tallah

\--------------

Janelle, I hope you can hear me.

Just like before, Aaliyah didn't tell me that she was going after the killer herself. Earlier, his aura wasn't as menacing. Now, it's dreadful. It's like the wailing of a ghoul from outside our world. I sense the presence of two beings: one human, one inhuman.

And I've decided to go after them as well. But, this time, I'm prepared. I put on one of Aaliyah's spare weight vests, buckle an ammo carrier around my waist, and take the pistol she left behind—which, now that I think about it, why did she leave behind her weapon of choice? If she forgot, then I hope she backs off. The aura their emitting is so disgusting that it has to be stamped out. Together, they produce a disharmony that's claiming the lives of too many!

Janelle, of all times, now is when I require your presence.

While I send my prayers your way, as your chosen Messenger, I'm traveling by foot after leaving behind a B-Cruiser and the only driver willing to move me anywhere near the Red Storm. He pleads for me to leave, to escape with him to another Zone. I reject his continued advances while going my own way.

Ever present in my mind, both the smell and sound of this very storm is too repugnant for me to bear. I can sense Blood Storm's presence the closer I get—which means he's slowed down in his advance. I hear gunfire accompanied by mortar blasts in the distance. Then, without warning, a great bolt of scarlet lightning strikes the ground and prompts ruptures throughout Zone B.

I choose to keep proceeding, but, as I do, the horrors of what he's done make themselves apparent: burned bodies scattered amongst bits and pieces of his victims, sections of houses and businesses blasted open, wide craters within the Zone flooring—all the work of a man partnered with a demon from the Lower-City.

I feel its presence more clearly, although the stench of charred flesh presents a barrier to perceiving the demon's inner nature in the beginning. While I seek out the Imago of the strange entity, I unconsciously edge closer and closer to the scorching chaos.

Once I've gotten close enough, I come to a realization: it's not that Blood Storm's moving slowly; in fact, he's not moving at all.

Approaching the center of the storm brings me to the edge of the largest crater I've seen, one burrowed deep into Zone B's metallic infrastructure. From this distance, their auras combine and reach out in all directions, seeking new enemies to destroy. Because Shenu and the demon have synthesized their individual tau's, they've created a mass of swirling energy—one which acts as a vortex meant to draw in its chosen prey.

At the very bottom of the pit, and just off to the side, I notice magma pools forming around a central figure; someone's hunched over, hands clutching at his stomach. He's no hair or identifiable features, but his body radiates with an inner fire as he struggles to maintain his composure.

On the inside, his will is battling with the will of a vicious demon. I can at last clearly feel out this monster's character, and it's much worse than that of Blood Storm's. Whereas Blood Storm has become lost in unbridled mania, genuinely intent on returning to his true self, his other half is solely dedicated to mass destruction. This type of vermin must be contained, and it's the only reason why he's managed to hurt so many people!

While his spirit wrestles with the demon's, I seat myself in a cross-legged position. I close my eyes, meditating on forbidden songs and sutras taught to me by my mentor, Janelle. Within moments, my thoughts revolve around my teachings, becoming echoes of a higher reality.

Janelle introduced Pythagora to me, called it the "Spectrum of Projection," then handed me a series of tomes regarding the subject of spectral geometry: the perfect synthesis of both mathematics and music.

With the rhythm of my breaths—and often with the assistance of instruments formed from Maia—I may fill the atmosphere around me with a certain ambience. Janelle, because your appearance filled that hospital room with an overwhelming tau, I've dedicated myself to learning how to project it, how to morph it to my will, and I'll use it to create a barrier which will surround the Red Storm with a wall of Goreanic Music. I'll orchestrate a symphony produced from the energy of my soul and my will.

It takes time, yet that's all that Shenu will give me within his current state. I have to be sure that the wall of ambience I'm creating isn't detected too early. I feel the struggle of two souls more and more clearly. I hear Shenu's screams of rejection amidst a scolding, unending speech.

He's being brainwashed. Rather than argue back, his possessor's assaulting him with chants like the ones I use. If his ability's this similar to my own, then...

Shenu looks up.

He stands in place for a moment, just as the wall solidifies around the eye of the storm, and then I feel Shenu's will begin to fade.

The demon's won. It senses my Imago probing its own. I withdraw my aura quickly, then I try to put some distance between myself and the monster while keeping my focus on the wall.

Because I've already enshrined him within a solid foundation, I'm at last able to press the wall of music down upon his own aura. This combination of multiple harmonies against the chaos of his spirit will drown out any greater awareness of his environment.

I channel the rest of my zol in Pythagora in order to strengthen the wall while shrinking it down. At the same time, the Goreanic Music intensifies to the extent that it causes the demon possessing Shenu to scream.

In a fit of frustration, Blood Storm summons a bolt of lightning down to embrace his body; flames engulf his form, charring him to a scorching, howling red. He's lifted out of the crater and just across the way from me, with the wall following him in the shape of a sphere as he moves.

I stalk Shenu from behind, tightening my clutches with the rest of the concentration I have left.

In anger, he tries to swipe at the boundaries shrinking the diameter of his storm. He'd be able to react effectively if he went straight into Imago, but the music is preventing him from regaining his focus.

Within minutes, I'll likely collapse. Still, there's a small chance I could survive—that I could win with the ability I've developed. If I can sustain Pythagora just a little longer, I'll be fine.

Shenu, either thinking I've gone in the wrong direction or ignoring me entirely, continues toward Exit Station Bravo. Midway there, two consciousnesses collide once again. While in the throes of his master's torture, Shenu cries out the name of a demon I know.

"Ikihigo!" he cries, "Give me back my mind! Allow me to finish this work myself, dammit! Curse you, Ikihigo! Why don't you trust me?

"I'll break free. I'll break free and kill you, too, Ikihigo."
18

The Red Storm

\--------------

Aaliyah

\--------------

I'm piloting a cruiser specialized for a member of Enfilade as my bodyguards follow in versions of their own. Maxwell calls these "windcycles" because they're all just narrow bodies of grey netite meshed with moa and somewhat resemble motorcycles. Windcycles have no forms of heavy weaponry; rather, Enfilade uses them as scouting vessels because they're faster than any aerial vehicle in the Citadel. The only real problem is that the damn thing's definitely not built for a human to sit on—it's uncomfortable as hell—but it gets the job done.

Blood Storm's farther away than I thought. I expected him to arrive any moment... perhaps something slowed him down.

Behind me, Flight I-7.3 is just now departing. It ascends to the heights of the Upper-City as it leaves Exit Station Bravo, then the giant transport vessel projects two great netite wings, lined with green neon lights, and steadily becomes a shadow against the rising Sun. Had it left much later, it would've made itself a clear target for Blood Storm to shoot down. For the first time, the Citadel's evaded what could've been another tragedy; in order to keep this bastard from getting any closer, I've got to help the Federation put an end this petty struggle.

Shenu's at the center of what appears to be a smaller storm than before—but there's something else about it. Something familiar but I don't understand how or why.

Squads of Enrec war cruisers have already gone ahead of me, now permitted to fly closer due to the narrowing perimeter of the storm; each squad soars in parallel, ascending columns that fly around opposite sides of Shenu while awaiting a wave of soldiers: Maxwell's army. As promised, he's deployed a significant number of sentinels but not the full extent of his arsenal.

Enrec's vessels once more form rigid columns while spiraling down. Upon gaining ground on Shenu, each column aims below, at the eye of the Red Storm.

They unleash a reign of concentrated fire at Shenu himself, then—

A massive bolt of lightning fires down from the heavens, blasting a hole in the ceiling above us before touching down. The eye of the storm implodes, sending up fumes which scorch several of the leading sentinels before they can make a tactical escape.

From above, war cruisers ascend higher into the air prior to descending again in two groups. Both scatter when flying nearer, spacing out so that each fighter has enough space to launch an attack. As I'm closing in on the storm's center, I see both machine gun rounds and heavy missiles soar in Shenu's direction.

Just prior to landing, another grand bolt rains down from the skies and sets off a series of detonations ranging all the way up through what's now a cylindrical, crimson vortex. Combustions concentrated within Shenu's wind tunnel escalates upward, shearing through a large portion of war cruisers; those it doesn't destroy are at least damaged enough to crash into nearby buildings—and one of those buildings is the one I chose to land on.

The Enrec cruiser smashes into the base of it, causing the entire structure to shudder as my windcycle's shaken closer to its edge. Right afterward, I smell burning; flames gather at the bottom.

I escape by climbing down scaffolding I find on the other end of the rooftop, but, once I hit the ground, my mind's perturbed by something unseeable. I move around the building in time to witness red bolts of lightning surging upward.

Both sentinels and war cruisers launch a joint attack, but their frontlines are struck down by consecutive bursts of power emitted from Shenu. After a sizable number of them have been hit, each group separates and comes together again outside of the storm's radius.

I cross through a wide alley, hoping to get closer, and I happen to encounter Dawn Knights in fitted, emerald armor; alongside them, I notice other Knights adorned with bulkier and much uglier armor. In front of what looks like two separate teams, there's a pit of dense, grey wind; when studying it more closely, I start to see symbols contained within the barrier—a barrier outside of Blood Storm's own!

"Excuse me, miss..."

One of emerald Knights approaches, but I can't focus on any of them right now.

On the inside, within the eye itself, I sense the presence of two beings: Shenu and...

Husashi. Ikihigo. He's returned, and, again, he keeps doing greater harm to the Citadel every time he reappears. In the end, my worst enemy is at the center of this mess.

"Miss?"

Ikihigo has bound me with a contract. If I make any move to stop Shenu, then I'll also be acting in a manner which could harm the demon; if I want to hurt Ikihigo, I'll need to come to terms with sacrificing myself if that's what it takes to finally get rid of him.

"Miss? Are you okay?"

"Yes." I stun the Knight by looking back at him blankly.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Mhm."

"This area's—"

"I'm Commander Aaliyah of the Dawn Bureau." I offer him a handshake. "Nice to meet you."

He takes it.

"Champion Laenos of the Malachite Brigade. And, over here,"—he points to the Knights with cruder protection—"a team from the Olivine Brigade's chosen to join us in a ground assault against this piece of shit. If you want to make it out of this place alive, Commander Aaliyah, I'd suggest that you leave the martyrdom to us."

"Martyrdom?" I ask while also catching sight of a stranger in the distance moving closer to the storm.

"Heh." he sighs. "There's no other way to put it. We've seen too much death along the way, so it's become our duty to bring this man to justice. Every time his lightning strikes, there's no telling who he'll target. He's a monster, Commander. That's why it's okay." He breathes in deeply before saying to himself, "It's all going to be okay."

In this one moment, I empathize with them; with that empathy comes a resolution in my mind, one which seems unavoidable now that I know what's really at stake.

Yet one abnormality remains to be investigated.

"Hey! Lady, where are you going?" he exclaims as I walk past him.

Two try to accompany me, but I wave them off prior to stopping for a closer look. I feel now, more than ever, zol that I've experienced before, but I don't feel any pronounced hostility. I know who this is—I can see them now. I move closer. My heart races. Closer. Comfort spreads through my heart.

Closer...

Tallah. She's here.

I try grab her, to pull her away since she's too near to Ikihigo's grasp. Tallah pushes me back with one hand, then she looks into my eyes...

My mind sinks into the world I once shared with Fatima. In this world, Tallah stands atop a pillar across from me during meditation.

She says, "Not now. After all this time, I've created something useful! I did it, sister!"

"Did what?" I exclaim, "What did you do?"

Tallah smirks.

"Through music, sister, through the art of projecting my pathos—Pythagora—I created a dialectic between man and demon."

\--------------

When I come to, pushing back the Knights who try to help me to my feet, I'm knocked on my ass after hearing a scream. An ear-piercing shriek echoes throughout Zone B and produces a faint aura in its wake which stuns everyone.

Tallah returns and grabs onto me so that she won't fall, and I help hold her up while she shakes and tries to smile at me.

"I did it," she says. "I outwitted the demon who outwitted you."

Tallah collapses into my arms. That shriek begins again—this time, however, a tall, crimson shadow enveloped in red flames and with two horns cresting its head rises from the shallow pit.

Shenu reaches up and fires three bolts of lightning into Ikihigo, who screeches while sweeping his flaming claws downward. Shenu reacts in time to electrocute Ikihigo's arm before he can be shredded into nothing, then the combined forces of the Knights, Enrec, and the rest of Maxwell's unit launch a full-on assault upon Shenu's location.

While Shenu forms a shield around himself made from his own tau, Ikihigo is struck by rounds of lead, explosive shells, energy blasts, and even the Malachite Knights who dare to leap into the pit.

Those who aren't gored by Ikihigo's claws wind up being burned and electrocuted by his former servant, and, not long after the initial assault, the rest of the Knights bow in deference to me.

Then, they charge. They charge toward their deaths just to land one strike on this abomination. All the while, Ikihigo continues howling in agony while doing his best to defend himself. Over time, his attacks get slower; meanwhile, I back away while considering my former plan. Ikihigo's still being blasted by legions of incoming vessels; he's struck so often that he's forced into a crawl as he attempts to escape from his subject.

Behind him, Shenu maintains an overhead shield, forcing it farther skyward to protect himself from aerial attacks. At the same time, he generates a colossal amount of voltage in one hand while absorbing energy from the storm itself.

"I'll kill you, Ikihigo! I'll kill you for going too far!"

Shenu staggers his feet while preparing to throw his energy, to finish off the demon who haunted me for so long.

Just then, a weird-looking sentinel descends from above. Broad flames trail in the wake of a body painted in the colors of the Federation. This sentinel blasts its own body toward the ground, extending one fist as it does:

The heroine called Flying Divinity crushes Ikihigo's neck with a punch that breaks the ground below them both. Ikihigo utters one last shrill screech, and then...

The image of his demonic face emerges and takes up the whole of the atmosphere above us.

"Curse the Citadel! Curse the human race for its impotency! All that humankind deserves is suffering, the same suffering of which they're capable of inducing upon others. Amongst all living beings, humans are the most deplorable.

"Curse you, Dejinden. May your chosen human fail you miserably in all ways possible. May the Citadel fall into the depths of the ocean and drown the hopes of these pitiful creatures!"

Ikihigo ends his rant by erupting into a cloud of his own decaying spirit. This cloud rapidly spreads throughout Zone B, marking all who come into contact with it—all who experience zol for the first time.

Even in death, Ikihigo's presence corrupts. I hear the cries of citizens as some are exposed prematurely; from far away, humans transform into terrible perversions and will be granted nothing but a life of pain as long as they continue to exist.

The red storm clouds above begin to slowly dissolve; Shenu's aura becomes weaker without the presence of a demon enforcing it. Because of this, the storm transitions into a protective dome. From the inside, he manages to elevate the intensity of his tau, perhaps using up the rest of his energy to shield himself.

Onindiva's the first to try him. She charges into the faint, red barrier—

A burst of scarlet lightning strikes her in the chest, creates an explosion on contact that forces her off her feet before she lands on her back. Her body's still on fire, but Onindiva's conscious enough to brush the flames away while trying to gather her thoughts. It doesn't seem like she can move very well, and Shenu could easily decide to kill her for the hell of it.

He turns his head to observe her stiff movements, then I understand that I've no other choice.

After fulfilling my ambition of rising through the Bureau's ranks, I always intended on enforcing the best justice imaginable. The biggest battle in my life has been an intellectual one. The thought of "lawfully" taking another life has bugged me forever, but the gift I was blessed with finally gave me a deeper sense of purpose.

I concentrate on the face of the Old Man, the one who greeted me during a desperate moment. I'm not sure how to summon the talent he's given me, but...

I see his face. His creepy, rotten grin.

In just thinking of him, the First Musician's appeared within my mind. There's no way to break free to see what's going on in the real world now that I've got His attention, and I can almost feel his disgusting breath as he begins to speak:

"My dear," the First Musician says to me, "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Oh, how you've changed... it appears that life has taken quite a toll on you."

"I need your help," is all I can say.

"I'm well aware. The destruction wreaked by Shenu and his partner, Ikihigo, has not gone unnoticed. It's justifiable that you would require my power yet again to remove such a terrible human being from this reality. Once his soul is in the hands of the Solace, he shall be forced to accept responsibility for his actions.

"First Sinner Aaliyah, open your eyes. Open your eyes, and, when the moment is right, deliver this man to the Solace."

\--------------

My body's moved before my mind has, before my eyes have even opened.

I'm gripping the handle of what becomes a spectral weapon. A white ember composed of threads extends from both my body and from Time itself. In brief visions that pass before me, I catch glimpses of futures I'll never have.

Shenu senses the build-up of the power granted to me by the First Musician; he turns to gaze at me while awestruck, then he generates lightning around his body while keeping his eyes fixed on a growing gun.

More of my future unravels, then I bring it to a halt; I wrap my finger around the trigger.

A lone syringe suddenly flies inside of Shenu's barrier. He turns his head just as the needle pierces his neck and causes him to stagger. Shenu reaches up, but a small orb of tau presses a serum inside of his carotid artery.

Just as quickly, the syringe vanishes—along with the barrier protecting Shenu. The one who threw the syringe approaches, prompting Shenu to back away from both of us. The newcomer's some buff-looking nerd with dark hair. I don't know why, but he's wearing what looks like a mix between a doctor's gown and a white kimono. When acknowledging me, he bows with a smile.

"What did you do to him?"

"Well hello, I'm Doctor Shikami." he says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Shikami. I think I know that name.

"You're well-known in the Mid-City, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid I'd better not say. For the time being, it seems our mutual enemy's coming to his senses. Incredible..." he breaks off while observing Shenu, who's raking his nails across his bare scalp.

"Why can't I remember how this all started?" Shenu starts to sob. "There's no possible way I could've hurt anyone, not on purpose. All I wanted was to teach the Federation a lesson—I-I was looking for the President; if I killed the President, then they wouldn't see me as a murderer! I'd be a hero!"

He looks to Shikami out of desperation.

"You understand, don't you? You see me, right? I didn't mean for all this to happen—you can see it!"

I kick in the back of Shenu's kneecaps and force him to the ground; he gasps while I cuff his hands behind him, "Please stop! Please... you don't get it! You're just a stupid bitch, that's what's wrong with you!"

—SHINTE—

I draw Shikami's pistol for him, push the doctor back, then I press its barrel into Shenu's head—all within a second.

"This action has been approved by the Ministry of Beautification."

Onindiva, half of her burned and bruised, limps up to me while gesturing for Shikami to be patient.

"Shenu is an escaped convict, a human who became a convict through mass murder. Upon escape, he chose to kill without discretion. The Ministry has been authorized to utilize lethal force against targets who actively terrorize the public. The Bureau Commander is making the right decision."

"She's not!" Shikami scowls. "Not at all. Commander, your justification for stealing my gun so that you can end this man's life doesn't hold up. This man is a monster, but he should be held accountable by the greater public—not just us! You're a leader, are you not? The decision you make here will follow you for the rest of your life, so keep in mind the value of life itself before you take any further actions."

"Please don't do it!" Shenu groans with his face pressed against the concrete.

"AALIYAH..."

It's his voice, but where—

Onindiva moves closer to me, but a different voice reverberates through her body:

"IF YOU HAVE SECURED SHENU, DO NOT EXECUTE HIM WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE DEMOCRATIC COUNCIL."

Maxwell's hacked the Champion's brain and taken full control of her.

"COMMANDER, YOU HAVE ALLOWED ONE FUGITIVE TO ESCAPE. DO NOT FURTHER RUIN THE CREDIBILITY OF THE BUREAU THROUGH MURDEROUS ACTIONS. THE CONVICT MUST UNDERGO A FAIR TRIAL FOR HIS CRIMES."

"This man has killed too many people to be given any more chances at life," I tell them both. "He made his choice—for Avva's sake, this fool sided with a demon!"

"I agree! Punish him, Flying Divinity!" someone from the crowd gathering around us calls out.

"CITIZEN," Onindiva's body faces some middle-aged onlooker, "PLEASE SEEK SHELTER FOR THE TIME BEING."

"That man's a foul devil!" a woman shouts.

"If you don't shoot him, lady, I will!"

"Kill him," the crowd shouts in unison and leaves only two to argue against my reasoning.

"I beg of you," Shikami says while touching my shoulder, "show mercy to this criminal. If you do, the whole Citadel will view you as a hero—someone who can lead this nation toward real peace!"

"I don't care how others see me. Not now." I tell him. "I witnessed what Ikihigo did to those who trusted him. If Shenu was foolish enough to enter into a covenant with a heartless beast like that, then I've no sympathy for him."

"Miss!" Shenu cries out to irritate me once more. "I couldn't control my urges—it wasn't me who wanted to hurt so many people!"

"And yet you did."

"COMMANDER, TAKE CUSTODY OF SHENU. DOING SO BEFORE THE PUBLIC WILL DEMONSTRATE THE SUPERIORITY OF THE DAWN BUREAU AS AN INSTITUTION OF JUSTICE.

"COMMANDER, YOU CAN RESTORE THE BUREAU'S REPUTATION WHILE ENFORCING HIGHER VAL—"

I shoot Shenu in the head. Both Maxwell and Shikami go silent; Tallah's still unconscious, so the only others who react are all the citizens of Zone B who suffered at the hands of Ikihigo and Shikami. All at once, they applaud vigorously; additional citizens flood in from the Exit Station and discover the three of us standing over the body of the worst mass murderer within Federation history.

While everyone else continues to cheer, Shikami looks down and says, "In front of hundreds of mortals, you decided to play the role of a god. I hope it was worth it."

Without so much as blinking, I acknowledge his remark with a genuine response: "I was in a bad mood today—mostly because I had to say goodbye to a close friend. Life's been more stressful lately; I've been insulted, beaten, and kidnapped. In between, there's been some blessed moments, I'll admit, but nothing's felt better than what I did just now, doctor.

"I'm the Commander of the Dawn Bureau, so, from now on, I'll show no mercy to the Federation's oppressors—whether human or demon."

The crowd, still growing in size, applauds again.

"A new age is coming that demands a type of ferocity I've learned to foster inside of myself. If we continue showing mercy to murderers, predators, and traffickers, we'll put ourselves at risk for another disaster. That's why the Federation needs the intellectual skills offered by the Bureau; without us, there's no real way of delivering the truth to the public."

"And you'll deliver this truth?" Shikami interjects.

I nod curtly.

"You got it. I've decided to be a face that people can trust, and I'll accomplish this through hard work. From now until the very moment the Citadel becomes a utopia, the Dawn Bureau will be acknowledged as a valid contender for governing the state as opposed to letting the Council waste the public's time. With me as the Bureau's Commander, I won't let this city's population keep suffering.

"My name's Aaliyah, and I promise everyone here that I'll give my all, that I'll protect the innocent until my soul leaves my body."

\---------------

PART FIFTEEN

Aurora

\---------------
1

Parting Words

\---------------

Tavon

\---------------

"I saw your flight leave," she tells me. "I thought about how we first met and then about everything leading up to when I saw you for the last time. You looked like you were in bad shape..."

"I'm sure," I say to Aaliyah while using one of the Kom Cell's installed within the walls of the great cruiser's second story. "I ran into some real jackasses out there, but they taught me a lot about myself. About the kind of person I need to become."

I glance down at my hand, wrapped in a white sarashi like the rest of my body. The Grandmaster provided me with a sleeveless, black kimono to somewhat hide my wounds during the trip.

"You don't need to 'become' anyone, Tavon. Please don't talk like that."

"I was almost killed due to my ignorance of zol."

"Me too. We've both been through some heavy shit, boy. You told me everything about yourself, Tavon, and then you left. Ha! It's so typical."

"I would say you knew what you were getting into."

"Right. I found myself in a damn mess, but...

"I'm not upset about any of it. Actually, I'm glad that I met you—it just wasn't clear to me until I was able to see you one more time. I was worried, but you survived and gave me a sense of relief I haven't felt with anyone but my own sister."

"Well, I'm glad I could help."

"Psh. Shut up—you could at least say something back."

"Like what?"

"Like, 'I miss you.' It doesn't have to be poetic, but give me something."

"I'm not that good with words."

"I know. Just try, and Tavon?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep yourself safe out there. I don't approve of what you're doing—I think it's childish, to be honest—but who am I to argue with the Association's Grandmaster, the guy who stopped a giant worm from eating the rest of the Citadel. All that matters to me is that you stay alive. So, please, fight well enough to do that."

"I think I can keep that promise."

I smile, as if she was right in front of me.

There's a brief pause, then:

"Tavon..."

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?"

"Mhm."

"Tavon, I love you."

"..."

"Are you there?"

"Yeah, I-I..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Hmm... I guess I do, too."

"Huh?"

Yeah. I'm confident. For once, I know what she means to me.

"I love you, Aaliyah. Promise me you won't die either, okay?"

"I promise."

2

Trouble

\---------------

Tavon

\---------------

I rejoin Raiko in the first story lobby, where hundreds of travelers have organized themselves into long lines at what appears to be at least five hotel check-in counters. My body still aches; I don't have much time before I'll be forced to get some rest because of all the stress I've undergone in combat. Even better, there should be a medic station on the third floor, just outside a broad deck surrounding the main body of the cruiser.

Hanging from the ceiling by the dozen, holographic projections broadcast the news from six different human civilizations—but there's just one that catches my interest: the Federation News Network.

As Raiko strides over to me from one of the check-in counters, I learn about Aaliyah preventing Blood Storm from continuing his rampage and executing him for his crimes. The news reporter plays a recording of a speech she gave after having shot Shenu. Aaliyah talks about making the Citadel into a "utopia." It's a naïve kind of dream, but, if anyone can do it, she can.

"Ay, T! T!"

"I hear you, kid, I'm standing right here!"

"I know, sir." he sighs. "You just be slow sometimes."

"Whatever. Did you find out how long it'll take us to be assigned rooms?"

"A room. We're gettin' one room, fool, so you best be comfortable with sleepin' on the floor, all right?"

"Boy, shut the hell up!" I bark back at him. "I did not fight my way here just to sleep on the floor. I'm taking the bed, kid, and you'll be taking the floor."

"Oh yeah?" he raises an eyebrow. "Well, I didn't see any of what you're talkin' about for myself. You sent me away, remember?"

"You would've gotten your ass kicked—ugh! There's no time for this."

I light a blunt I rolled in the Exit Station's bathroom. The weed was a little bloody, but it beats waiting on my feet in agony.

"Ay bro," Raiko exclaims, "I don't think you can just up and do that here!"

"Be quiet. Just tell me how long we've gotta wait."

"They said it could be two hours."

"Two hours?"

Someone dressed in a security uniform walks up to us.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you please put that out? Smoking that here's not legal, and I'll have to confiscate it from you if you wish to continue being a respected passenger."

"Hey guy!" a regular traveler shouts my way. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Is he smoking weed?" a woman asks her friend.

Steadily, more and more people surround me, Raiko, and what's now three members from the cruiser's security team.

"I don't see why I can't finish this in peace and not smoke another one until we reach our destination. Your medical wing's all the way up on the third floor!"

"That doesn't matter, sir. We can't have you smoking here because it's illegal."

"Put it out, sir," another of them demands.

"Hey, you should arrest him! I know that guy!"

"He's right," another stranger echoes, "that guy came straight from the Citadel! He's one of the escaped fugitives!"

The security guard who first accosted studies me for a second, then his eyes light up with recognition. "It's you," he exclaims while glancing at his Kom Cell.

Eventually, a group of Dawn Knights approach with their rifles in hand; one of them speaks for them all:

"That man is Tavon Meiziki, the Knight Murderer. He ruthlessly set traps for the Pyrite Brigade and dishonorably ambushed his opponents. He has no right to exist as a free man, not when he's claimed the lives of innocent soldiers!"

"Yeah!" the onlookers shout together.

"He's right!"

"Arrest the murderer!"

Just as another group of Knights also approach, two more security guards flank me and instinctively take hold of my arms. They pull back hard, and it hurts so much that it takes everything in me to keep from knocking them all out.

As the mob tightens around me, dark forms emerge outside of them and wade in closer. Warriors dressed in black kimonos, accompanied by pupils in grey and overflowing with zol, circle the crowd from all sides. Once one of my oppressors takes notice of them, so does everyone else.

Gasps erupt throughout the mobs; they quickly disperse while the Death Officers surrounding us let them pass by, leaving behind just the Knights and the rest of the Cruiser's security teams.

A familiar face steps out from among an army of black and grey; upon seeing him as well, the guards cease restraining me and allow me to greet an old friend.

"Shotobai."

He extends both arms, and we exchange a hug—just before the same guard who spoke up before accosts us again:

"Excuse me, sir, but the man with whom you're so well acquainted happens to be a notorious criminal."

"His name's Tavon."—Shoto withdraws one of the heavy-looking plates from his back—"And he's a Death Officer, like the rest of us. If you try to arrest a single Officer here, we'll be forced to retaliate the same way you would to protect your own kind. That being said, do what you want—but, if you do," he smirks while raising the plate slightly, "I won't hold back."

"Neither will I."

Artemis Spilsbury steps out from the shadows while exposing the dense bones which make up the majority of his body; two short blades extend from each hand.

"I've yet to find the time to schedule another duel with Tavon Meiziki. Until that time has come, it's my recommendation that the rest of you back off."

\---------------

It's not an hour later when I collapse and fall unconscious.

When I wake, I find that I've been placed in a hospital bed within the medical ward. To my surprise, Raiko's waiting in mournful silence at the side of my bed.

"I had to carry you all the way up," he says. "Reception gave me an old Kom Cell to let me know what room we'd be in, but the nurses here said they don't know how long it'll take for you to recover, said your body's all fucked up."

"All fucked up, huh?"

"Yeah." Raiko nods earnestly. "Can't remember what all they said—was on that medical jargony shit, you know—but they were acting like you were gonna pass real soon. Left me here to grieve, I guess, because it's been a while since anyone's come to check on us."

I sit up and quickly get to my feet. I'm stiff, but I'm too numb to feel my body; they must've used a strong anesthetic.

"Wait a minute now!" Raiko pleads with me, "I don't think you can just leave without their permission."

I walk out the door, but, before I leave, I glance back at him.

"Who's going to stop me?"

Epilogue

\---------------

Janelle

\---------------

When Tavon had reached the grand, steel deck outside of the great vessel's third story, he was overwhelmed by the sight of the rising Sun signaling the first day of his freedom from the Citadel.

The two of them eventually received their room information, but, rather than rest his head right away after quite a lengthy adventure, Tavon merely sat down outside and took in the breadth of the world. He encouraged his new pupil to meditate beside him, and, although Raiko was initially reluctant, his curiosity concerning his own teacher got the better of him.

Following a perfect hour of focused meditation, Tavon began to speak to Raiko as an equal. He spoke to the boy about his ambitions in life, about the path he had taken to get where he was, and about his upbringing.

At the end of his recounting, Raiko was granted a new perspective. He looked upon his mentor differently and wondered in subtle terror if all the stories he had told were true. When Tavon had finished telling the story of his life, his image had become much more fearsome to the boy than before. Raiko then understood that the human he meditated with it was not a sociopathic moron but a warrior who was coming into his prime.

"Tavon," he began, "you sound like you've been fighting to get to where you are for years. Now that you've made it—now that you're a Death Officer, I mean—what are your plans from here? Will you just keep lookin' for tougher dudes to put down?"

"No. That's not exactly it," Tavon replied. "That's the easiest way of saying it, but that's not the reason why I chose to push myself this far. I shouldn't have survived, but, since I have, the way ahead's become much clearer to me."

"What do you mean?"

Tavon smiled while staring off into the great blue.

"It's not the act of killing that I enjoy, Raiko. On the contrary, my fascination is with the rhythm of battle itself. No other form of combat feels as intense as the rush of fighting an opponent with your bare fists."

Tavon paused, contemplating what he would say next, then spoke while admiring once more the world at large:

"The past caught up with me, and I dealt with it when the time came. Looking back, I see that encountering Muonsaga again was a reminder of how far I'd come...

"Raiko, as you go through life you must remember that there are no guarantees. Random, sometimes shitty things will happen to you; you'll feel the light and the dark unequally and unpredictably, so there's no point in worrying about either the past or the future. Even as my life was submerged in hopelessness, I chose to train however I could. I dedicated myself to a higher calling, and I suppose the same could be said of you."

"Is it true, though?"

"Is what true?"

"All those Knights they're sayin' you took down. You did that all with your fists?"

"Yeah. As warriors, it's what they wanted from me. From my perspective, I desired the same kind of passion. That's the lifestyle you'll be inheriting if you become a Death Officer."

"I think I get it now," Raiko said. "You haven't hidden... anything. You're really a scrapper, but I'm not that type of fighter at all."

"It's no problem," came Tavon's quick response.

Tavon clumsily stood to his feet, straightened his posture, and finished his lecture: "I plan on traveling the world in order to understand the art of 'Jeigon.' If I can do so, then I stand a chance of discovering opponents I won't be able to kill with a few strikes. What we're getting out of this is a chance to explore the real world, for better or worse. We've five targets to find, five opponents to eliminate across the globe."

Raiko stood up and then followed behind his mentor.

"Once my body's good to go," Tavon remarked pridefully, "your training will begin. With my help, you'll become the world's greatest assassin—second to me, of course. I hope you're ready; the road to mastery is never-ending, so we can never stop learning, never stop seeking greater opponents. This is the way of the warrior. This is how we'll become unconquerable."

TO BE CONTINUED...
Afterword

It's a little past three in the morning as I write this, but I wanted to make note of this fact because of how much my discipline has improved as a writer.

The rough draft of Volume Three was completed about four months following the editing, formatting, and publication of Volume Two. I believe this is a sign that I've gotten better at a process that once totally confounded me. The only work I don't contribute individually is the cover art, but I hope to fix this by spending more time learning how to draw.

I'd like to thank everyone who's followed the series this far. I was hit with inspiration after experiencing a personal loss, and I suppose this is the product of a healing mind. My intent with Angelos Odyssey was always to create a fiction which reflected merging cultures, subcultures, and values within a futuristic setting. I set my mind to working as hard as possible to produce this third volume, the one I consider to be the best of them all.

If you'd like to show your continued support, please leave reviews of this series wherever you find it online. Furthermore, if you have any questions concerning the general narrative, feel free to contact me at: jbmpatrick@gmail.com.

Sincerely,

Josh

