Chapter 66-
The inside of St Chapman’s Basilica was massive, its vaulted ceiling easily reaching seventy feet into the air, decorated with lavish frescoes depicting the life and death of the Saviour, telling a story that began at the great doors of the church with the creation of the world plunged into darkness, the chaos and strife of humanity’s wailing, aimless, tortured souls filled with discord and malevolence, the birth of the Saviour and their gathering of Seven Saints to build the first empires of the world which brought order and justice after their master’s death, the empires which formed the foundation of modern society and produced the men and women who would lead the world to the Truth, before wrapping around to the hall’s head, ending with a look towards a future in Heaven, where everything is peaceful and joyous and there is no suffering or hatred, greed and war, when the roads are paved into the sky and the human heart is one singular, unified sapphire encrusted in the crown of God, reflecting and mirroring the universe through its many edges and lattices; there is no night, for His glory is the perpetual sun shining down upon us; there is no death, for life begins before time and into perpetuity as the sun; no more hunger, for virtue and joy fill the soul before meat and wine would the gut; and we will be thankful in the moment as in all moments, for time loses all meaning once beyond the end of history; there is no need for one’s name or family, there is no need for divisions, there is no need for memory for we are beyond the end of history; no worry or fear will exist, as they are beasts who subsist on both knowledge of the world and awareness of the self, all of which are meaningless, all of which have been left behind once we have been beyond the end of history, the end of history, the end of history; And into the Golden Days.
And in the center of this depiction, with arms stretched to the heavens, both feet on the ground before the altar, was His Holiness, Grand Inquisitor, Chief Magistrate, Jesua Saibit Bach.
“You May Depart In Peace.”
His hands descended on the altar as the congregation stood from their pews and bowed; every head in the room bowed except Bach’s. Once the people had begun filing out in a quiet horde, Bach motioned for an altar servant to join him on the platform.
“Tell Bishop Francise to take over my duties today.”
The young man’s eyes widened in childish confusion.
“Father, are you leaving?”
A small, kindly smile drew Bach’s relaxed eyes. “Sisco,” he said with fatherly benevolence as his gaze drifted to the ceiling at the back of the church. “I have some important things to attend to.”
As Bach left, Sisco found himself glancing in the same direction.
“What direction is that? North?” he wondered. “I suppose the Gladial is that way…”
---
Sonsee held her hand up. “Wait.”
“What is it?” Gruse took a few steps ahead of her and looked back. They were standing in a four-way intersection of halls, each path leading down far enough that it curved into darkness.
Sonsee focused on something unseen for a moment. “There are… Dazey, you said your name was?”
Dazey perked up. “Hm? Yeah-huh?”
“There are at least… three or… four others with your same scent down here.”
“Scent?” Dazey asked.
Sonsee’s eyes darted around the halls. “How many more are there like you?”
Dazey opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. Total quiet fell on them before Sonsee spoke again.
“There are two of them at least, aren’t there? A man and a woman.”
“You aren’t going to hurt them, are you?” Fear cloaked Dazey’s voice.
Sonsee turned her head down the path to the right. “There’s one up ahead, and at least one down that way, I can’t tell if either of them are getting closer or further away.”
“So we take a left?” Gruse asked.
“It might not be so simple,” Sonsee replied.
“Why not?”
“Because Gallow is also down this way.”
Gruse’s face twisted in humor and disbelief. “So what?”
Sonsee looked back at her coldly. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“That’s what you want,” Gruse dismissed. “I’m looking for who she’s leading us to.”
“Well, in that case, which way are they?” Sonsee looked down on Dazey, still beside her.
“Huh?” Dazey felt apprehension mounting inside of her.
“This person who knows about the orb, which direction are they in?”
Dazey hesitated a moment before speaking. “You aren’t going to hurt them, are you?”
Gruse’s eyes burrowed into her. “No.”
“...They’re ahead,” she pointed forward. “That way.”
“Great,” Gruse took a few steps in the direction of Queen’s chamber. “Oh, I’ll need her,” she suddenly turned around and motioned to Dazey, who shied away into Sonsee’s arm.
“What?” Gruse pressed. “You aren’t going to show me the way?”
Dazey threw her gaze to the floor. “It’s ahead, make the first right and then a left, and keep going, that’s where it is.”
Gruse approached and grabbed Dazey’s arm. “You’re coming with me if I’m going.” Dazey pulled the arm back, “No,” she said feebly. “I don’t want to go with you, I want to go with her.” Little tears welled up in her eyes.
“Why are you being difficult?” Gruse asked like a parent disciplining a child.
“Why do you need her to go with you if she told you the way?” Sonsee’s voice suddenly cut through the tension.
Gruse paused and stared at Sonsee for a moment, then relaxed her grip on Dazey’s arm. “I’ll do it myself then, go find your boyfriend.” She strode into the darkness, her black shawl enveloped by shadows within seconds, her footsteps echoing until they faded from earshot.
Sonsee stood in the intersection with Dazey for a moment, contemplating what had happened.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly, and turned with her arm around Dazey to lead her down the right-side path.
---
Mara threw out a flying kick that Myst was barely able to weave away from. Her boot crashed into the wall, smashing a hole the size of a dinner plate into it.
Mara twisted around and landed back on the ground. “I can’t let you go this way,” she stated. “Unless you’d like to surrender; we’re in the most convenient place to turn yourself in, after all.”
“How about this,” Myst reasoned. “You explain your Vocation to me, and I’ll surrender.”
Mara was taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Huh?”
“I mean it, it’s really killing me,” he explained, gesticulating as he spoke. “You’re flying with those wind currents, but if you were the weight of an average person, you’d need it to be like a hurricane in here to even lift you off the ground.”
Mara stood at the ready in the belief that this was to lull her into a false sense of security, so she was surprised when he kept on talking.
“-So either the wind isn’t really wind, or you’re lighter. I’m thinking the second one is probably the case, but you hit that wall with enough force to shatter bricks. If you throw an apple at a wall, I don’t care how hard you throw it, it’ll always splatter before the wall does. That’s the little thing that’s nagging the back of my mind, it doesn’t add up, it’s really frustrating the more I think about it.”
Silence.
“I really mean it too,” he added.”Just tell me what the deal is and I’ll lay down right here.”
Mara’s eyes and brow narrowed while she attempted desperately to figure out if he was serious. Her heart and brain debated for a moment before she got frustrated with the wasted seconds and decided to fall back on the safest possible approach.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what it is, but you need to… demonstrate yours as well.”
A new emotion crossed Myst’s face, something like “Do you really want to know?”
“Demonstrate?” he asked. “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you want me to demonstrate.”
Mara hesitated. He hadn’t used any kind of Vocation yet, only posturing and positioning like a fighter. Was it some sort of passive ability? Or was it so destructive and powerful that he couldn’t risk using it here.
“This is one of the ones from the Fang Team,” she remembered. “Wasn’t there one of them who had an ability that increased the chaos in an area?” Her blood ran cold and adrenaline began to pump heavier through her body. “Lord Bach said that there was one of them with an ability like that… Was he killed? Bach ranked him close to Drameda in power, even stronger than most of them. Is this him? Has his ability been working this whole time? Is that what I’m feeling-?”
“Explain it to me,” Mara requested. “And I’ll tell you what mine is.”
---
Jericho rounded the corner when he heard a scream.
“Come out here! I’m not dying yet!”
“Are you done?”
Ky whipped around and saw him standing down the hallway, lit by torches. The air was suddenly so brittle between them, it felt as if the slightest movement would shatter something. Ky’s disdain and fury twisted into a ferocious smirk.
“I’ve gotten into a tricky situation,” he called. “There’s a poison in my body that’ll take me out soon, and I’ve been itching to fight you for a minute, now.” His animalistic hunch straightened into a martial poise, his shoulder cape made him seem taller and more even, while Jericho let his hip cock to the side, forming a curve opposite to the angle of his whip. “It isn’t a great circumstance,” Ky’s voice lowered to a growl. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t go for it.”
With a burst of light, thunder crackled and arced off of his body, sparks flying wildly in every direction. Jericho’s ear was caught by the sound of a woman’s voice crying out in fear.
“Dana!” he realized. “She’s here!”
“General Monaco,” Jericho spoke with vigor and command. “Stand down, I don’t have any intent to fight you.”
“No can do,” Ky replied, thunder surging from his body once more, blowing cracks into the nearby stone. “Fire was invented to cook our food, the ship was invented to surpass our borders, the railway was invented to transfer goods, all of these were the product of necessity- needs to innovate. The human being was born without the claws, fur, scent, and strength of beasts, and so we evolve by innovating! Without seeking challenge, we don’t evolve! When I fight on the battlefield, I change the limits of human strength; when I fight, I evolve the human race further! That’s why I am the Battlefield’s Renaissance!”
Jericho vanished from sight.
“What-?” Ky frantically glanced around the hall when he heard a sharp sizzling noise from up ahead. Three flat, crimson ribbons streaked through the darkness.
“[IRON MAIDEN]!!” Ky shouted, and a beam of thunder encompassed the entire hall before him, bathing every brick in light. Within that blinding flash, he saw a dark shape in the corner of the ceiling.
Jericho was unpleased, a sort of relaxed scowl resting on his face. Ky couldn’t believe the precision with which he’d used to dodge the attack; Eroh’s earlier evasion was pure luck and positioning, but Jericho had a different sense about him, where Eroh fought like an animal, he radiated a frightening level of control and confidence.
“I’m not interested in your identity,” Jericho’s thoughts burrowed into Ky’s mind. “I’m here to protect someone.”
His knee collided with Ky’s shoulder blade, sending him spiralling to the ground. His blast had blown away every torch down the hall from him, leaving only a few in the direction Jericho now stood.
“I’ll ask you again, Monaco,” Jericho’s left side was bathed in orange torch light. “Stand down, or I’ll kill you.”
“You still don’t understand,” Ky coughed. He picked himself up, faintly visible under the cover of shadow as electricity sparked off of his skin. “I’m not long for this world at this rate; I can feel the poison in my blood, I’ve got this terrible feeling in my arms, like they’re all hot. I can’t give this up.”
He pointed his Ishtar to the ceiling. “The exit is behind me, do you think you can get past me if I let loose?” His hair was tossed into his eyes, looking down on Jericho.
“Monaco!” Jericho cried through grit teeth. “Don’t you dare-!” His eyes cast for a moment to the side, where a cell held a single occupant. Dana’s meek face and sweet eyes stared at him; it was the same look as when he’d arrested her, a look that begged for mercy.
Ky paused for a moment before proclaiming his Vocation as the air around Jericho changed. Something hazy shimmered into view behind him, moving incredibly fast but perfectly still.
“What is that…?” he whispered; its placement was almost separate from anything else in the hall, like a hallucination in his eyes, but it was behind Jericho and very much real.
“In this world there is so much suffering…
This ability is a gift and a curse…
My ILLUMINATI, the truth about fate…
Some philosophers will say that the universe exists in balance, and that good and evil weigh each other out, but that’s not its true nature. True balance is a pendulum, swinging back and forth in perpetuity, until the end of time. Every person experiences ‘ups and downs’ by the swing of fate, this world experiences its ‘ups and downs’ as well. It’s my curse to know that suffering is inevitable, and we are lonely things at its mercy… My ILLUMINATI reveals all and controls all, and I dance to its rhythm…”
“Ky Monaco…” Jericho’s eyes burned with righteous passion. “The Pendulum Is Swinging My Way!!!”
The image behind him crystallized for a moment in Ky’s view: a massive golden Pendulum with a pointed end, swinging on an infinite rod through space and time, its motion so vast that it appeared frozen.
Jericho pushed off from the ground with enough force to shatter it beneath him, his crop exploding with crimson electricity that coursed through its length. Ky swung his rod with a streak of thunder.
For an instant, they collided, a wall of light encompassing them as a supersonic boom roared down the hallway. Dana and Rodan covered their ears and ducked their heads for safety until, in a heartbeat, it was over.
Rodan slowly opened his eyes. Footsteps echoed down the hall, long, deliberate steps that had a distinct authority. While every torch had been obliterated, a series of purple flames lit in a row, illuminating the blackness. To their surprise, both Jericho and Ky were completely still, standing with weapons drawn against each other; they were paralyzed, frozen by a presence they could not comprehend.
In the stillness, Ky's eyes caught the movement of something on Jericho's hand. On its back, where a black, diamond-shaped tattoo was placed, the hand had cracked like glass, and small grains of it were sliding out.
“Ky…” a familiar voice called to him, stirring both he and Jericho. “Why are you two fighting?”
Bach appeared between them.
“Lord-?” Jericho grasped at straws for what was happening.
“Father!” Ky couldn’t believe it. “What are you-?” What was this power he suddenly felt from the man who had taken him in and believed in him for so many years? It was supernatural.
Bach laid his hand on Ky’s shoulder. “You’re ill,” he said. “You’ve been poisoned.” With that, he raised his other hand to Ky’s chest. Something rushed from Ky’s body to Bach’s hand, disappearing as quickly as it had emerged.
A weight was suddenly lifted from Ky’s heart, somewhere inside of himself, he knew that something miraculous had happened.
“Father… what’s going on?” he whispered, staring into Bach’s eyes.
“Come with me,” Bach motioned him. “To someplace private. This is not someone you should be fighting.”
Jericho stood in stunned silence, watching their backs shrink into the distance.
“Milord…” he muttered. “Why would you…?”
His head snapped to Dana’s direction. She looked at him with stony quiet, disdain for his actions. He tried his best to mask his own emotions with a stoic face, but couldn’t bear it before walking away.
---
“They’re close,” Sonsee muttered. They’d been walking through the seemingly endless labyrinth of the prison, occasionally passing a door or cell block, but never another soul.
“Excuse me?” Dazey asked softly, prompting Sonsee to turn her attention down at her big eyes.
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry, Sonsee, but I just wanted to say that I think you’re nice people.”
Sonsee was a little taken aback. “Ah, thank you?”
Dazey shifted her hands around awkwardly. “I get sent out to watch people for my Lord, but I never observed anyone as long as I did you and your friends…” She seemed uncomfortable, like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t figure out the words.
“Tell me about your Lord,” Sonsee said after a moment of anticipation.
“My Lord?” Dazey blinked confusedly. “Well, Lord Bach made all of us…”
“Like those Inquisition leaders?”
“Yes, them too,” Dazey answered. “He’s a wonderful person, he’s the only one who cares about me.”
“The only one?” Sonsee asked.
Dazey smiled nervously. “Mhm…”
“And how is that?”
“Well… when I get hurt, he fixes me, and he sends me to places so I can do a good job for him,” she explained.
“What about the others?” Sonsee interjected. “Aren’t they life your siblings?”
Dazey was quiet for a second. “...Not really… We were made a really long time apart, I don’t think there’s a connection like that…”
Sonsee watched her expression struggle from the corner of her eye.
“We’re more like coworkers, I guess,” she spoke with an upturned tone, trying to make it sound sweeter.
Their conversation was cut off by the sound of footsteps smashing down the hallway. Sonsee turned with quick reflexes and already had her hand on her spear when she saw who it was.
“Gruse-?”
Gruse stood in front of them, panting and looking none too pleased.
“What the hell?” she sputtered. “You sent me in the wrong direction! What’s your deal?!”
Dazey blinked spacily at her. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie to you.”
“You did!” Gruse insisted. “There was nothing in that direction!”
“Did you go right, then left, then straight?”
“Yes! And I didn’t end up anywhere I wanted to go!”
Sonsee looked her up and down. “Gruse, are you out of breath?”
She straightened herself out and placed her hands on her hips. “Yeah? So what?”
“I just thought you’d have more stamina.”
“Okay, you were wrong, so?”
Sonsee tilted her head and gave a small, knowing grin. “And you ran all the way here?”
“Yeah?”
“Without knowing the path we were taking?”
“Y-yes.” Her scowl grew more intense with every exchange.
“So you just happened to find exactly where we were after what I have to guess is a few minutes of walking searching in the opposite direction, through all these halls?”
“What are you trying to prove?” Gruse barked.
Sonsee’s smirk turned devilish. “You never actually followed the directions she gave, did you? Because you thought she was lying, that’s why you wanted her to go with you, so you could hurt her when you found out, right?”
Gruse’s mouth was open to reply, but she didn’t say anything. “No…” she forced out.
“I didn’t lie…” Dazey mumbled. “I was just scared of what Queen would think…”
“Queen?” Sonsee asked.
Before any of them knew what was happening, the underground was rocked, and a gargantuan explosion echoed down every hallway.
“What’s-”
Gruse couldn’t finish her sentence, as the three of them were gripped by an intense, insurmountable dread that rendered them speechless and frozen. Sonsee could feel her heart frantically pumping adrenaline through her veins in her body’s attempt to flee, but her muscles refused to move an inch.
In his cell, Gallow’s breath was taken away, and Gestalt was nearly brought to his knees.
Queen watched Etern crumple, now fully unable to breath with his single lung, and gripped the arm of his chair to hold on.
“Lord Bach…” he prayed. “Your might…”
---
Myst’s index finger glowed white hot, the wispy flame of his soul dancing off of it. “If I use it here, I’ll hurt myself and kill you.” Mara stared him down, not budging from her spot. “What I’m trying to say,” he continued. “Is that you should go first.”
Mara huffed. “If that’s your ultimatum...” She didn’t say anything else, but simply launched into the air, parasol first.
“Alright!” Myst shouted, readying his stance to dodge, block, parry or counterattack her. Instead, she stopped just short of him.
“[DIVA DESTRUCTION]!”
Mara quadrupled her mass, letting her heels dig into the stone and tear it up as she skidded to a halt, letting her parasol act as a battering ram with enough force to shatter Myst’s ribs.
Myst hopped back once, twice, three, four times on his tiptoes until she had ground to a stop. The parasol lifted and for just a moment, Mara’s eyes flashed into view before his fist was planted into her cheek.
His hand stayed there, knuckles against her skin. It felt strange, almost glassy, but warm and soft. He locked eyes with her and grinned widely.
“What?” she wondered aloud.
Myst nearly choked on his chuckles. “I’m just happy because now I figured it out.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, my hand feels like it’s gonna break.”
It was Mara’s turn to laugh. “That’s great, but the second you take you take your hand off my face, I’m going to blow you into me and punch you straight through your gut.”
“Fair enough,” he replied. “But, I could turn your head into a pile of ash right now.”
She glanced down at his other hand, which was pointed up at her chin.
“A stalemate, I guess.”
Suddenly, the air was ripped from both their lungs as an enormous pressure bore down on them. It lasted moments, but it felt like minutes; Mara’s focus slipped and her Vocation faltered, returning her to normal density. Her knees buckled and she nearly hit the ground, taking a knee to support herself.
“Gotcha’!” Myst slammed his own knee into the side of her head the instant he felt the pressure relieved from his body. All Mara felt was a shock of pain before her vision flashed white, then all black.
Myst watched her fall limply to the ground, catching his breath. He bent down to check her vital signs. “Still alive,” he confirmed. “Probably won’t wake up for a while.” He stood back up and began jogging down the path he’d already started on. There was no time to worry about finishing her, he just had to keep going.
Etern struggled to regain his footing. “Master Queen,” he sputtered. “I’m sorry for my weakness…”
“Never mind that, Etern,” Queen dismissed him, watching the chains. “While we were distracted, there was another battle happening close by.”
“Another?”
“Yes, and I need you to deal with whoever it is.” A wicked expression of joy crossed Queen’s face.
“Me?”
“This is a good day, my Etern, you’re going to contribute a lot to my research.” Queen reached down and produced a small box from the pile of parts and junk at his feet. He opened it and produced a small, black orb. “This comes courtesy of our prisoner. You have no idea what a hassle it was to convince Lord Bach to let me keep it for the time being, he did create it after all, many years ago…”
Without another word, he thrust it into the open hole in Etern’s chest and watched with glee as his servant staggered back, clutching his stomach. Queen brought out his caliper, which he called Semiramis, and pointed it at him, adjusting it subtly.
“Master,” he moaned. “I feel ill-” His eyes bulged with alarm. “What’s- ah, ah…” Etern lost the ability to speak as a horrid black, tar-like liquid burst from his mouth. His face spasmed and his back twisted and contorted like a snake.
Queen looked on with delight, leaning forward as he found the exact orientation he wanted on his Semiramis.
“Good, good…” he whispered. “Let’s see this in the field…”