SIXTY-SECOND CYCLE

There are many cities throughout the world, scattered about many realms, of varying sizes, prosperity and population. Some stand tall and grand, being a heart and soul of an entire Empire, while some remain obscure, almost unknown to the populace. If one were to ask just how many cities there were, perhaps there is no soul who could give a proper answer; however, if one were to ask for the name of the greatest city built by mankind, then nine out of ten would utter the same name: Great City of Imperium or, as it is better known to common mases, Yyvel’s Domain, named after the greatest Magus in the history of mankind, Yyvel Arl, Empyrean Magus of the Ninth Cycle who once slaughtered four Primordial Gods during the Great War.

The city reached staggering 5,000 square kilometers, with population of nearly 40 million people. One thing to notice was that, if one were to walk from north to the south of the city, it would appear as if one was traveling backward through the time, as architecture grew more and more archaic, until simple, stone temples were the only thing remaining. With hundreds of towers rising piercingly into the sky, countless domes looming over the earth beneath, and walls as sturdy as space itself, the city was never besieged since the day of its inception. Yet, at the moment, as pearl-shaped moon hung luminous in the nightly sky, ten kilometers away from the city’s walls was a mass of half a billion creatures. They formed a vague, half-circle around the city, waiting for the command.

Sky above the city would occasionally ripple as energy shield emitted cyan sheen, while its walls were stacked prim with soldiers and Mages. Among them was a youthful-looking woman with glimmering, silver hair and brilliant, silver-coated battle armor. Her hands were clasped behind her back as her narrowed eyes gazed into the distance, as though penetrating through the barrier of reality. Y’se had arrived to the city three days ago, and the army which was half a billion strong arrived yesterday causing ground beneath them to shake as though heaven-shattering battle had already started. The size of the army outstripped the entire population of the city, but one relief all took pleasure in that nearly eighty percent of the enemy’s forces were made up of beasts rather than intelligent races and False Gods.

Next to Y’se stood an elderly man with slightly plump appearance, wearing a straw hat and simple, farmer’s clothes. He rather stood out among the shine of armors, yet no one dared utter a sound or even look at him, lest they die without knowing how. This man was none other than Patriarch of Iylox Clan, Eloy Iylox.

“… you’re grown rather patient,” Eloy said suddenly, chuckling. “Still being able to hold back from asking.”

“What’s the point in asking?” Y’se scoffed. “I know you won’t tell me anything.”

“Well, seeing this swarm before us,” Eloy sighed lowly. “Somehow, I’d rather say so I won’t have any regrets just in case.”

“You think we can’t win?”

“We will win the war,” Eloy said. “Just, perhaps, not this battle.”

“… Ryon’s here?” Y’se asked, squinting her eyes.

“Ryon, Yook, Eeala, Soyika, Vyaron… nearly all False Gods currently alive are here,” Eloy replied. “In addition to nearly three hundred Divine Mages, and nearly four thousand beasts with similar strength.”

“… from what I’ve read, their numbers never reached this point.”

“Ryon broke through a barrier, defying the order,” Eloy said. “He subdued everyone through brute force.”

“Defying the order?” Y’se echoed.

“Hm,” Eloy nodded. “Every False God is born with predetermined ceiling which they can’t get past. Yet, he did. What is that if not defiance? However, as all things which go against order, it can’t last. He’s like Lynne, in a sense…”

“…” Y’se’s heart froze for a moment as her head jolted sideways, glaring at the man who was a whole head shorter than her. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you ever find it strange that a Divine Magus of Ninth Cycle never swept through the universe?”

“… there are records of them, though.”

“Indeed,” Eloy nodded. “But, what do they all have in common?”

“… all… all of them appeared during the Great Wars.” Y’se said, her eyes widening for a moment.

“Ninth Cycle is defiance of the Source,” Eloy elaborated. “It diminishes border between the Creator and Creation, establishing link akin to that of a parent and a child. Ninth Cycle is, crudely said, regression to the Origin of all things; while Eight Cycle Magus has subsided eight elements and integrated them into his Divinity, Ninth Cycle Magus discards the notion of multiple elements and wields only a single one.” Eloy paused here for a moment as he looked up toward the sky. “However, even if the Eight Cycle Magus wishes to cross that threshold… he will never be allowed to.”

“… just like you.”

“Just like me,” Eloy nodded. “You’ll hear a lot of self-proclaimed sages talk about the so-called ‘laws of the world’ that can’t be broken. However, in reality, whatever ‘laws’ do exist are extremely vague and flexible for the most part. In essence, these ‘laws’ apply only to ordinary mortals, and Mages are unrestrained by them. That is, until we reach the final ceiling.”

“… Lynne’s a Ninth Cycle Divine Magus?” Y’se asked solemly.

“He is,” Eloy nodded. “As is Scarlet, Retch, Eya and others…”

“… eight portals… eight battles… eight Divine Mages of the Ninth Cycle…” Y’se mumbled.

“Why do you think we’re able to withstand the might of the Primordial Gods, Y’se?” Eloy said, chuckling suddenly. “Even I, as an Eight Cycle Divine Magus, wouldn’t be able to withstand a breath of theirs, to say nothing of them attacking. Even if ten billion of me attacked together, the fate would be the same. Thus, in order to maintain the balance, the Source intervened for the first time since world’s assembly, granting humanity a chance. And thus, Ninth Cycle Divine Magus was born. They are something akin to the guardians of ours,” Eloy said, sighing. “Or, as some would say, upholders of the falling sky.”

“…” Y’se’s body suddenly shuddered as though she finally pieced something together.

“You’ve realized it?” Eloy said, glancing at her. “While there are records of Ninth Cycle Divine Mages, there are none in-between the Great Wars, and those who were seemed to disappear into oblivion the moment the Great War ends.”

“… y-yes…”

“Some die,” Eloy said honestly. “While some live. However, the moment the dimensional portals close, all Magic is directly sapped from their bodies, and they become nothing more than ordinary mortals. And, no matter how much they try, or what means they use, they will never again wield Magic for as long as they live and breathe.”

“…”

“Lynne is currently battling a Primordial God,” Eloy said after some moments of silence. “A being so far above us, even a mere glimpse at its form would render us dead. He’s battling something we can’t even begin to comprehend… and that is his sacrifice. Do you think that this army before us… is scary?”

“… will he be okay?” Y’se asked in a low tone.

“… no.” Eloy said plainly. “Perhaps, if he focused on fighting, he would have stood slim chance of coming out alive. However, he saved your life, and he saved his Kingdom. Those two actions marked his death certain.”

“…” Y’se’s body shook for a moment as she fought tears back from falling; up until now, she still held onto the slim hope. She knew that, wherever he truly was, however dangerous it was, there was still a chance. And, when she realized it was him who saved her, that feeling grew stronger. Yet, now, it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water all over her heart, freezing it completely. “Hah, why do I have a feeling that was his intention right from the get-go?”

“It was.” Eloy said. “It isn’t that he doesn’t want to live, but that he knew he couldn’t abstain himself from stretching out a helping hand… and, in the process, guaranteeing his defeat. So, don’t let his choice be rendered mute.”

“… I won’t.”

“… I failed to grant you a happy life, child,” Eloy’s voice suddenly softened as he warmly gazed at the shaking figure next to him; ever since her childhood, her heart and mind were plagued with defeats. Eloy knew that and yet… he never helped her. “For that, I failed as your ancestor.”

“Heh, what use is saying that now?” Y’se said, quickly wiping her eyes before steeling her expression once more and straightening her back. “Don’t we have a battle to wage before getting drunk and talking honestly for a change?”

“… indeed…”

**

Meanwhile, beyond the ideas of light and darkness, in the place where neither and both existed, two figures hovered opposite of one another, gazing into each other’s eyes with both coldness and warmth. Lynne’s missing arm was missing no more, as though reborn through a miracle. Ignis’ form was no longer reminiscent of a human, but a giant stretching thousands of miles in all directions, ghastly ablaze. Lynne’s was smaller than his pupil, yet his presence was equal to the God’s at the moment.

At the very apex of their battle, they were wrung from their fabric of reality and flung here, in a realm beyond realms. Rather, it would be better to say that this was realm of all realms, Origin of all things: space within the Source itself. They didn’t stop battling merely because they desired so, but because they felt control over their bodies lapsing. Unlike Ignis, though, Lynne didn’t fight it. He had already given himself to the Source in exchange for reaching Ninth Cycle Divine Magus and, from the looks of things, his mission is accomplished. His battle was won. Even though he was unable to kill, or even defeat, the being before him, it was enough that he stopped it.

Lynne’s eyes shifted curiously around, yet he was unable to spot anything, while also being able to see everything. Every element, every law, every thought, every idea, every notion… they all flickered in and out of existence, seemingly both here and nowhere. He found it strange, and all his attempts to even being to comprehend such notions resulted in a headache, so the only thing he could do was give up.

“Didn’t you imagine it would be like this?” Lynne suddenly asked as he realized he was able to talk.

“… no. You?” Ignis replied.

“Heh, not even close,” Lynne chuckled lightly. “I have a feeling that even if I were to stay here until the end of time, I would still be unable to comprehend even a sliver of it all.”

“Likewise…”

“Why do you think it brought us here?” Lynne asked.

“… you don’t seem to care what happens to you.”

“Why would I?” Lynne asked. “I already sold myself to this place.”

“…”

“You cannot sell what is not yours, Child.” A voice echoed out through everything and nothing; Lynne’s and Ignis’ bodies shook as they felt their souls being stirred by the voice. It was calm yet raging, warm yet cold, far yet close…

“…” Lynne’s eyes widened into eggs he stared at the apparition which suddenly appeared between him and Ignis. It was a normal, human child, no older than seven, its appearance both vague and clear. It was genderless, naked, with head full of hair, each strand dyed not in color, but various elements and laws. Its two eyes were boundless, akin to an abyss with no bottom, one entirely black and the other entirely white. Between its brows was a carving of a half circle and a single dot at the central position. The strands of its hair fluttered above its head, seemingly in slow motion, as millions of different phenomena were reflected within the innumerable strands.

“Welcome, Children, to my humble abode.” The voice spoke yet again, but apparition’s lips didn’t move an inch. Only the strands of its hair and the pair of primeval eyes moved slightly.

“… w-who a-are you?” Ignis asked, despite knowing the answer. He was unable to take his eyes off from the apparition before him; he felt like a child who was about to be berated by his parents. That vague force of attraction slipped into the very core of his soul, capturing every inch of him.

“Some have called me Prime Soul, some Diviner, some the Source, some The Father, some The Mother, some God, some Creator…” the voice reverberated ceaselessly. “But, those before me donned me the Overseer of the Sixty-second Cycle of Reassembly. None of my predecessors have ever had to intervene into the matters of the Cycle, not since their assembly until their dissipation… yet, I had to. Not once or twice… but numerous times. The Fabric of this Cycle is already thinner than a thread, on the brink of imploding and disassembling into Singularity, commencing Sixty-third Cycle, despite my numerous attempts to alleviate the consequences. Originally, this Cycle was projected to last for another eleven billion years yet, at this rate, it won’t last tenth of that. Children… your bickering… must end.”