Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 11

Two Locks

“Birds. I see birds... and grass, see that too. Big-ass building. Ugh, this hurts. I don't know if it's physical, but it hurts,” the fallen Brigadier thought, his eyes stirring from his forcefully induced unconsciousness.

Looking up at the blurry sky above, blotted out by the gigantic Facility, Emris could do nothing but contemplate what to do next. He hadn't tried to get up in a while. Goddess knows how long at this point. He remembered seeing Corvus and Erica fly away, and giving them a weak wave from the earth that they would never see.

He felt pathetic, lying there uselessly. More so, he felt pathetic for standing uselessly. Acting uselessly. Behaving as though he was at the top of his rank, only to be called wasted space behind his back. It was pitiful, but what was an old sod to do at his age? That's what he convinced and excused himself with. He deserved their respect for everything he did in the past — that’s what he defended himself with. Of course, he would never externalise such a thought, as it only worked with fools and, lying where he was, acting the way he did, doing things his way... he was the biggest fool of them all.

Standing up with a drawn-out groan, Emris managed to rummage out of the pristine bush he had so thoughtlessly ruined in his plummet. At least it wasn't dead, right? But when lives are ruined, can you justify the damage done with such a simple, superficial question? Stumbling towards the encompassing tree line, opposite the structure itself, the Brig leaned against the trunk of a tree, noticing the blood on his palm. Of course he was bleeding. He'd just fallen out of a building. His leg was recovering, though in its mangled state, it would take a few more minutes to be usable. A wooden stake had found itself lodged deep into his abdomen, which shallowed his breath. Grasping its exposed end, he found himself unable to even budge it. His fingers simply refused to lock around the thing. Not due to pain or tiredness, but simply a lack of motivation.

His wounds burned but were ignored yet. How one could ignore such turmoil corroding his body was anybody's guess. Hopeless to do anything about it, Emris dragged himself on, walking deeper into the thicket without rhyme or reason. It would help clear his mind at least.

Frankly, his time on this world had been dragged on for too long. His reasons to fight kept diminishing and, with a hopeless battle on the horizon, ethics and morals were his only real driving forces. As much as he wished to see The Prophet's head on a stick, even his prideful self knew that such would be little more than fantasy at his age. He was no longer the fruitful Guardian he was once. He lacked even half the abilities he used to possess and was no better leader at that. He had learned but had become saturated along the way. He had endured but became wounded in the process. He had won great battles, but had become exhausted so. And, looking back, hoping to see his many cherished allies cheer him on, he saw but one fickle light shine back. A light no less, but weak as it was, it inspired little more than false hope.

This generation's Guardian's flame had long since turned cold. It was only a matter of time before he could let his old soul go to rest.

"Oh, pup," the sneering, pity-spitting voice of a woman called from the depths of the green. "You don't look nearly as spunky as last night."

Turning his gaze to meet the slothful exile, Emris could hardly bring himself to respond.

"I'm busy. Kill someone else."

"I think I wouldn't need to. You look ready to be buried already," Eclipse shot, amused.

Shuffling through the branches she rested on, the ex-Dweller crept her way near him like a lizard. Despite such odd behaviour, Emris spared her a mere glance before carrying on.

To his silence, Eclipse had to pester. "What are you busy doing, exactly?"

"Mopin'," Emris said.

"In all your years, you haven't picked up decent social skills?"

Turning to her once again, Emris shot her an unreadable look, before continuing his walk.

"I need to make it up to a uh... a guy back there."

"How?" the lass asked, snaking behind him.

"Killin' Urchins."

"You don't seem too convinced."

"Killin' Yanksies."

"Please, don't ever become an actor," Eclipse sniggered, landing on her feet beside him.

"Killin'... Doing somethin'," Emris relented, acknowledging his lack of direction.

With a tilt of her head, the foxy woman pressed on.

"Why must it include murder?" she said.

Growling at her prodding questions, Emris checked his leg. Aside from the torn fabric, he could walk functionally again. He needed new clothes, that much was certain.

Facing the curious lass, the Brigadier asked in turn. "Ye’re a Dweller. Don't ye think ye’re being hypocritical?"

"I'm not a ‘Dweller’ anymore, and even they don't kill as the universal answer to all their problems."

"They do it for sport," Emris retorted.

"Incorrect. They do so to learn and survive. It's no worse than what the Syndicate's done to us, and those around us," the exile clarified, defying the veteran's words in earnest.

With a grumble, Emris cracked his neck. "Whatever tickles yer fancy, I guess."

"You didn't answer my question, by the way..."

"I kill 'cause it's the only thing I'm good at while I'm drunk," Emris admitted, straightening his back as if such truth was a fact to admire. "And drinkin's all I'm good at while sober."

With a shrug of her shoulders and a teasing grin, Elipse said, "Well, can't help it if you're sexually frustrated. Didn't figure men were still throwing tantrums about that in this day and age——"

"Agh, shut up, woman!" Emris barked, snatching his pistol from his pocket and aiming towards her skull in a quick motion.

Even as the barrel of his gun glinted in her direction, and his finger grazed the trigger, the Brig couldn't bring himself to fire. While the act had caught Eclipse off guard for a moment, she soon put on her trademark smirk as she stood stock still, observing the man's movements. It was a spur-of-the-moment act. He wouldn't normally snap so severely, yet he did. And, knowing the target in front of him, he would've no doubt found such a kill unsurprising.

And yet, he didn't do it. As though aiming a gun at one of his comrades during a foggy battle, he kept himself from firing within an inch of his—or more appropriately, her—life. His gun shaking in his hand, a tooth-lined grimace slowly grew on Emris' face. And with that, he finally lowered his weapon.

Raising her brow at him with curiosity, trying to read his expression, she found something entirely new to her. A bizarre mixture of hatred, regret and mourning. Hiding his despair, as if locking it behind his glassy eyes, to be seen only by those who stepped closer.

With a sly smile and a misplaced sense of security, Eclipse closed her eyes as she jested.

"Itchy trigger finger, huh? I'll admit, I'm amazed you didn't shoot."

Stifling his wince to her remark, Emris shook himself of any ill thoughts, reasserting himself with a subtle grin.

"That was pretty short of me, I'll give ye that. Ye can thank my generous, kind heart for bein’ so merciful."

"Is that right? I hope you don't mind if we welcome ourselves to such hospitality, then," a mature, feminine and regal voice spoke from behind him. Glancing down at the sharp, thin metal skewering his chest, right through his heart, Emris' growing grin fell to a distraught grimace. Raising his eyes back up to Eclipse, whose complexion too had lost some of its uplifting, cocky appeal, Emris fell to his knees.

"Well done, Eclipse. Keep up the work. You'll find your efforts paid forward soon enough," Zylith praised, eyeing the silent exile carefully. The man who had pierced the Brigadier's chest, Ezequiel, couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

"I won't lie. Your arrogance has cost me many a restless night in frustration," the Keeper explained, closing his eyes with a faint smile. "I can't say I find no pleasure in doing this."

"Ezequiel, such sadism is not acceptable. Take back your statement or face judgement," Zylith, the Queen of the Dwellers reprimanded, albeit with loosened authority.

It was clear the two had spent much time together and had thus developed a strong enough bond to understand each other clearly, even through harsh words of protest. Nodding, the fencer withdrew his sword from the man's chest and, simultaneously, withdrew his words with a respectful bow.

"Minzhei, min Rhabpha," he excused, speaking in his native tongue. Such exotic language was scarcely used among his kind, being used more so as the dying language of the eldest Dweller kind.

"Fuckin'... gibberish shite..." Emris butt in, holding his stab wound in pain. To this, the Keeper kicked him to the floor, he rolling a few feet away. Even as he collided with a tree, Emris still dragged himself to his feet, flaring a humoured smirk toward his offenders.

"Bringin' yer mistress all the way out here. So stupid," he heaved. Even knowing it was futile, the Brigadier started taking slow steps towards the monarch, feeling the Queen's acute gaze torment him for every stomp of his boots. He refused to show any kind of weakness.

Signalling her long-trusted ally to stay still, Zylith faced the wounded soldier head-on, giving him ample space to try anything. She was far from defenceless, even without the support of her numerous protectors. Once close enough, Emris stopped before the Queen, letting the air grow silent as he stared her down. In spite of their height differences, the matriarch seemed infinitely taller in comparison, her authority leaking through her untroubled gaze. She was observant, cunning. Deadly. He was wounded, dulled, and bluffing.

And yet, even with her sharp perceptive awareness, she wasn't quite as prepared as she thought, as Emris immediately turned to Ezequiel before smashing his elbow against his jaw. The act was so quick that not even Zylith could've prepared herself for it. She had underestimated her opponent's wits. For that, she internally shamed herself.

Feeling his chest become more bearable as the adrenaline kicked in, the martial sprung towards his target, feeling hopeful in getting at least one nasty blow in. While he couldn't guarantee his hit would obliterate any bones, what with his condition, he had imagined a face-sized bruise would've been a rather hilarious sight to the Queen's adoring Kingdom.

Of course, such an incident would not come to pass, as a previously unseen girl flew through the air in front of him, robbing the man of his chance to damage the monarch. As Emris collided against the floor once again, this time at the feet of the proud monarch, he could no longer hide his sheer agony.

He couldn't stifle his groans and howls of raw pain, his body shaking as blood oozed from his new wounds. His legs had been hacked clean from his kneecaps down by Minnota, who looked down at him with the same satisfaction Ezequiel previously had. A disturbing sight, seeing the girl lean against her oversized axe with such pride, observing Emris' damage despite his verbal writhing.

"Ooh, that was a clean one! That's eight points at least," Minnota said.

"Looking as gory as that, I can't see what exactly's clean about it," Ezequiel scolded as he rubbed the damage on his jaw. "Looks like he's still a feisty one. I'll make sure he's stowed properly in a more suitable cell."

"Thank you dearly for your help, you two. Though, less violence would've been fitting," Zylith admitted, sighing to herself with a sly smile.

Turning to face the woman whose efforts had allowed this capture to be as smooth as it was, the royal displayed her satisfaction. Unbeknownst to her, this also served to incriminate her.

"And thank you too. In due time, you will find yourself among your own once more. That said, this will be the last chance," Zylith said. "As much as we would like to give a thousand chances, we can't progress in a world like this if we keep expending our resources on worthless efforts. I'll see you soon, Mildele. Mhaieiyu."

As the three catered the squirming, agonising Emris away to their sanctuary, Eclipse sighed.

“I'm older than you. Arrogance does blind the user, it would seem.”

While she hated seeing her old creed do such heinous things in the name of their work, so long as she could convince herself she was doing the right thing, there should be nothing to beat her head in for. That's all she needed to know, and all she needed to believe in. Especially now.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Dust and soil clouded the enormous-tree-covered area following the Celestials' impact. As the earth clouds rose high through the canopies of the jungle trees, the surviving pair coughed and wheezed, expelling dirt particles from their lungs as best they could. The fall had certainly been felt by the two, particularly by the male, whose wings he had damaged in an attempt to lighten their impact.

Even his sharp senses couldn't penetrate the dirtied air, but such wouldn't be necessary to inform them that they were in serious trouble.

Having been shot down by enemy forces, the pair had haphazardly tried to reposition their wings. However, in the male's efforts to protect Erica, their fall had been made inescapable and had forced them to breach foreign territory. Such dangers were confirmed when the sounds of several marching troops surrounded their hearing range. As far as they knew, their last seconds were counting, as once they became visible through the clearing air, they would likely be subjected to fire from every direction.

And yet, Erica still persevered, standing tall with a halberd in her hands. Mostly due to her armour, the lass had faired well from the fall, appearing relatively unscathed even after tumbling such distances. And, despite her easy-going and lax attitude, she had now welcomed a truly fierce appearance.

"Halt! You have trespassed Yanksee territory! Raise arms and surrender, or we will be forced to use police brutality!" a voice commanded through the haze, several guns audibly readying to any given response.

Met only by the silent groans of Corvus, the soldier in question ground his teeth in frustration, shouting, "Step out now and show me your hands! I'm warning you. Don't test my patience!"

"You know…” Erica started, tapping the earth with her foot. “I really, reaaally don't like getting shot at. It's loud and it makes me jumpy. You should be kinder to your neighbours."

And, just as the dirty fog would clear—as the pair's faces became visible and the soldier's lips parted to shout his order—a circle of light flashed out from within the Celestial woman, temporarily blinding all who stared at the two intently. Grabbing their faces in pain, the majority of the soldiers lost their guard, with the few unaffected becoming too distracted by the rest of their lot. Those who weren't blinded also caught sight of sword-shaped, crystalline objects fly towards them, stabbing into and felling the group one by one as the magic swords shot out from beside their caster: Erica.

Once depleted of such spells, Erica charged towards the four remainders, three of which were still recovering from her spell. With expertise unrivalled among her lancer comrades, the Celestial swiped the first's life away with a single swing, charging towards her next target without stopping. She managed to hack into her second victim before she noticed the last blinded soldier had recovered, opening fire whilst the other remaining martial backed away slowly.

In spite of the fully automatic gunfire, Erica coupled her agility and weapon skills to parry or evade the bullets; pole-vaulting towards her target before brutalising his skull with the axe of her spear. Removing the trapped edge from her dead assailant's head, she faced her final enemy with a scowl. She seemed like an entirely different person when matters involved life and death, and her abilities shined through her radiant, albeit cruel-looking appearance.

Noticing the last standing soldier communicating on his radio, Erica grumbled an expletive to herself, realising she was too slow for her own good. Stepping towards her petrified enemy, she produced an amused hum as she watched the soldier fall to the ground, having fainted. Boasting at her display of heroism, Erica turned to her Celestial counterpart, who sat awestruck at her uncharacteristically violent capacities.

"There, we're square, Corvee. You're welcome," Erica said with a broad smile, much to Corvus' displeasure.

"I think your pride is asking for a death sentence. We haven't left the country just yet, and as far we're concerned, we might be in for a ride if we don't move quickly,” he said.

Corvus tried to stand, finding himself struggling to do so through his injuries. The lancer approached the fallen swordsman with a hopeless sigh, offering him a shoulder to lean on.

"C'mon, up you go," Erica quipped, lifting the Celestial onto his feet. "Vicks, Corvee. You could really lose some weight."

"Ah, yes. My heft. That's the most... ngh... pressing matter right now," Corvus complained. "And again with that godawful name!"

"Appreciate the help and stop complaining! The least you could do is put up with my nicknames, what with me carrying this armour and an oversized baby like a mule!" Erica shouted back, though her voice seemed more playful than angered. Corvus couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at her response, giving his wings a lookover.

"It's been a while since I mistreated them so..." the Lieutenant said, trying in vain to extend them, only to wince from the sharp pain they racked him with.

Erica's uplifting complexion twisted into one of worry as she scolded, "You really can't go around doing that kind of thing. You never know how bad the damage'll be next time.”

She giggled impishly.

“I don't mind knowing you'll hurt yourself for my sake. Unless it was a spur of the moment sort of thing?"

"Unlike you, I don't act impulsively. I chose to do what I did, and I think it's only right. After all, we are allies, are we not?" Corvus asked, facing the winged woman in a way she could hardly shy away from without looking outright ridiculous.

Giving him a faint smile, Erica nodded. "I suppose you're right. I would've done something dumber but cooler in your place, I'm sure of it.”

Facing ahead of her so as to not trip the two over, the lass asked, “Are you nervous about the fight with Yanksee? It's pretty obvious avoiding this one's gonna be difficult..."

"I've said it once, and I'll say it again. So long as you keep your wits about you, and bite enough for you to chew, you should be fine. We'll all be counting on each other, so don't go taking the hero's role if it means getting yourself killed, understood? These are mostly humans we'll be facing, so I'm confident in our ability to succeed with relative ease."

"Just humans... you're right. It's a shame that excuse doesn't work with the others," she mumbled, her confidence slipping away.

She might claim arrogance and superiority if it meant cheering up her comrades, but even Erica couldn't bluff her strengths when faced with such foes. One’s demise was the only guarantee in life, and it's a dice's roll to figure out exactly who would fail to survive such an event. If anybody did.

The possibility of loss seemed so alien and inconceivable to her that she had almost forgotten to consider it. Not so much due to a comparison of power but rather the events that would proceed after such a failure. For those blessed—and cursed—with such knowledge, it would take merely a reminder to send one's mind astray and desperate. Terrified, no less. With a deep inhale, and an urge to alleviate her doubts...

"Do you think we'll make it, Corvee——?"

"That's far enough, Syndies," a rambunctious, authoritarian voice spoke from behind the two.

With a groan and a click of her tongue, Erica was ready to put Corvus down and fight whatever backup had sharked behind the pair, even if it meant taking down the whole army. However, when she noticed the glinting metals of the firearms targetting her from several branches and vantage points above, she soon realized that this little ensemble was more an attempt to besiege the Celestials than a blind act of retaliation. The fact that their enemy stood two steps ahead unnerved the angels, who realised the likelihood of this all having formed part of a premeditated capture.

But how could they have planned this? Their fall was but a coincidence, wasn't it? A simple distraction led them too far east. Erica re-evaluated her situation. She was outmanned and severely overwhelmed. So long as she could see her targets, she still stood a chance. But the fact that the pair had no reasonable cover along with the soldiers having chosen a plethora of hiding places meant her odds were well stacked against her. If Corvus could fly, they might have had a chance to zoom off, as perilous as such might be. But with his wings in such a state, she would have to abandon him in doing so. And she was positive that wasn't an option to even consider.

Facing the talking noble who had called out to her, she lowered her weapon, urging Corvus to sheathe his sword with a wordless gesture. To her relief, he complied.

"The two of ye have proven quite the stir, truth is so. But his little strategy wasn't all faulty, it doth seem," the bulky soldier blathered, his speech unnecessarily antique.

"You speak as if we have fallen in some kind of plot. Are you sure we're your targets?" Corvus asked while still considering whether his injured state would halt a massacre.

The knightly soldier scoffed. "Of course ye have. You twats couldn’t please your attention by the whole of an island passing by, flying as thou hast done. And yea, you two are mine targets. Brigadier Erica and Lieutenant Corvus, you two would bestow us as fine bargaining chips." The noble smirked, eyeing the two with malice.

"...It's rude to stare, dude," Erica spat, her humour seeping through. “And what’s with the talk? Victus, it’s so annoying. Speak like a man!”

"Oh, still thy tongue. It hath been much and far too long since you scoundrels put up shop. Ah... I can't wait to lay waste to that shithole. Neither are we saints, but by the Goddess is thine city a filthied mess! And with their beasts roaming the place like wild dogs, too... How couldst ye feel any pride in such a place, when all that is breathed are fumes!" the massful, herculean man clamoured, hacking his broadsword down to meet the two’s eyes.

Corvus lowered his gaze at the offender’s act. "You have some nerve, comparing our wasteland to yours when you've no less for your own city. I would be more disgusted here, in fact, if my birth had somehow become a problem for everyone else. We accept all walks of life, even on four legs——!"

"Ye accept mutts. Thee and thine own make jest of your society and allow diseased animals to rummage among your lot. It should be known as nothing more than a testament to thy hopeless ways," the nobleman interjected, flaring his nostrils at the surrendering pair.

Teeth-grindingly frustrating as it was, backing down was simply more realistic. While Corvus did ponder setting up a diversion to allow Erica's escape, he knew her well enough not to expect her to concede in his plans. He meant too much to the avian lass. With their weapons dropped and their hands raised high, they permitted their arrest. With a quick injection of a darkish fluid, the twosome's consciousness slipped away.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

Neither of the two could discern just how much time had passed since their capture. It would be impossible to even suggest provided the state the Celestials were in; they had been administered a brutal sedative capable of dropping even the most voracious Howlers or rampageous, rhinoceros-like Sluggerhorns.

Even with such a powerful drug in effect, the Celestials would occasionally see light, providing a momentary, blurry perception of their concrete-ridden environment. From the few times they had caught a glimpse of the area, they could faintly recognise the horrendous installation they were being transported into. A prison, no doubt, forged from metal, stone and cement and the most depressing colours to date. Much like the disturbed society they pictured, no sense of justice was provided. No courts were hosted. No unanimous decisions nor voting polls were instigated. No investigations were considered. It was straight to the slammer, to be condemned to whatever hell this country had forged over their long reign. Not that they had much land to reign on anymore. Their only territories were a few island settlements and the northeastern patch of earth this country was based on.

Even still, with such limitations in place, coupled with the constant back-and-forth harassment between the two countries sharing the continent, Yanksee had still managed to develop such impressive constructions and accomplished significant advancements in their time. While having come behind the Syndicate in regards to technology, Yanksee had been the origin of many a fancy gimmick built to dissuade the more magically adept individuals from penetrating their walls. This, coupled with their notorious treatment of Syndie invaders had given the smaller yet rebellious country an edge in survival, as cut-throat as it may seem.

At least they held their ground. That much nobody could disprove.

By the time Corvus could open his heavy eyes properly, he had already been fitted into a wall-mounted device within one of the several numbered cells that gave meaning to this grim building.

His possessions confiscated, he had been left in a timeless room with nothing to focus his mind on. His hands had been shackled with solid, chainless handcuffs that sported several gaps to hook things to and from. This heavy handcuff device had been suspended above his head, reeled by a connected cable into the concrete above him, restricting his movements. His legs had been restrained by a metal cylinder that hugged his shins, further immobilising his body. The final accessory was a metal collar connected to a slit in the metal frame behind him that clung tightly to his throat, known for strangling its target to the point of ruining concentration whenever magic was attempted.

Feeling as though any attempts to break through his restraints would be wasted, Corvus focused instead on his surroundings. While dim, his eyes adjusted enough in time so as to allow a decent view of the room. It was a relatively large cell for a single inmate, bearing enough space so as to allow one to walk in small circles and not feel entirely cramped. And yet, such room was entirely wasted, given his inability to move more than an inch.

The outside connected to this cell via an automated double door, which served as an airlock in the unlikely event of an attempted escape. To his right was a tightly sealed metal door with a rectangular gap at the top, from which shone the only source of light this room had to offer. Judging by the brightness and colour, the Celestial realised this to be sunlight.

“So, it's still day…” the Celestial sighed in relief, trying to put his mind at ease.

Then again, any amount of time could have passed since his capture. Had it been a few minutes, hours, or perhaps even days, he would have no way of knowing. As concern silently flooded his thoughts, wondering if the battle between the Syndicate and Yanksee had already begun without him, a single name came to memory. His eyes widened as he started to panic.

“Where... is Erica?! “