Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 26

Inaction; That Which Butchers

If he could give his all, he would. There was so much he could give, but so few ways to put them to use. If his legs could be offered, then may his legs be taken, but it wasn’t a matter of just running. He had to find them before his world fell apart again; this time all too literally. His femurs burned as he dashed through the halls, dodging the soldiers as they marched past him with such speed that he had to push himself off the walls as not to collide with them. His breathing caught in his throat several times because he didn’t even know how to sprint. Truly, this boy had not lived, and clearly so; he never felt more alive than right now. The invigoration almost felt good. It did feel good. But worry brewed and weighed in his mind, and though the rumbling became more distant, he could not assume anyone here had the capacity to fell that man. If what he saw in that alleyway was anything to go by, there wasn’t a soul here who could survive Noire’s — no, Sagittar’s wrath.

Then, in the distance, he saw a rabbit in a big white robe, and though he tried to halt his feet, Tokken essentially tackled the poor thing, and the mug he walked with slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.

“Victus, is this a robbery?!” the rabbit, startled, said.

Tokken took a few breaths before speaking in a hurry. “You, you! You’re a doctor, right? Right?!”

“Yes, yes! Calm down, alright? I just came out to see what the hell was going——”

“I need two names! Chloe, Mumble. The last one calls himself Pride sometimes. Where are they?!”

“You spilt my coffee… Why should I know?!”

“Goddamn it, they were sore thumbs in this place! A Howler and an Urchin, they were helping the child refugees…?!” Tokken frantically said, feeling his entire leg jump to tap the floor impatiently.

“Ah, those two… Never met them formally, but, ah…” The Lypin reached behind his head and scratched his ear. “Last I heard, they were taking them out for a stroll by the river bank. We would have them go to the gardens, but this method prevents claustrophobia, stuck in a place like this after——”

Tokken’s whole face seemed to light up. He aggressively pat the rabbit on the back. “Thank you, that’s perfect! I’m off!” With such few words, he flew off in a different direction. As he did, he shouted, “Find refuge!”

William’s arm was still semi-extended when he was left alone again. He didn’t seem the slightest alarmed, even after the alert was given. He simply strolled on over to the panic shelter as if part of a common routine; his mind drowned with swirling cups of caffeine. With a crick in his neck, he shrugged and said, “We’ve got to stop prescribing vuronol to kids.”

In the meantime, the quartz-haired teen was booking it back through the halls to the main door. There might have been a different exit closer to the waterfall, but he wasn’t about to take that chance now. The spike of adrenaline continued to pool into his bloodstream as resolution came closer, and then, with the large doors in view, he noticed a familiar figure lugging a hesitant younger body into the Facility.

“Mumble!” Tokken yelled from afar.

“Pride, dip-ass!” Mumble’s strained voice shouted back.

Next to Mumble stood Chloe, behind her two scared girls, and she seemed to be arguing with a soldier in full body armour. They must have been embarrassed, too, because their visor was down.

"Step aside! Entry is forbidden during a state of alarm!" the officer said, thumping the back end of his rifle against the floor.

It didn't make Chloe flinch. "These are pups, they need refuge!"

"There won't be a refuge if you make yourselves obstacles and hinder our army's march!"

"Then hush up and help us get them in!"

"They could be Chameleons!"

"Ack, will ya shut yar gob already, ya oafy cu——?!" Mumble tried to explain, still two-arming the Gygant boy when suddenly the rumbling became much more severe. It was enough to drop Mumble to his knees, to which Tokken swooped in and caught him before he banged himself.

“What in the world…?” Chloe muttered to herself, eyeing the Tsuki for an explanation.

“There’s no time for this, we have to go,” Tokken said.

“Again with this?” Chloe protested. “Vicks, aren’t you a bit hasty?”

“That’s not it. We have to leave, there’s an invader!”

Mumble groaned as he watched the big lad escape his grip like a fish flopping out of a sailor’s hands. “Hell’re ya talkin’ about, kid?”

“I’m older than you. Remember Noire?”

The littler yet manlier human stood up, his head poking up to Tokken’s chin height. “Freakshow?”

“Turns out, uh…” The teen tapped his lips. “I… Well, I’m still figuring it out, but Noire’s not Noire. It’s someone else. Someone way worse.”

Chloe blinked twice. “That makes no sense. What are you saying, Tokken?”

“I’m saying he was pretending. Is pretending the right word? He’s someone called Sagittar.”

“Sagittar?!” the neglected officer intervened reflexively. “He penetrated our domain? Dear Goddess, we’re doomed!”

The handful of children who had been gathered for the outside stroll huddled together closer, some of them shivering. One of them began to outright bawl.

The thwack of a cane came behind the soldier’s helmet so hard that, if he hadn’t been wearing protection, he would have kissed heaven’s floor then and there. The officer dropped his head forward and tucked it between his knees.

“That’s enough panic for today, you dimwit.”

Only Chloe didn’t find that amusing; even the children had taken some joy out of it. Mission accomplished. The Tsuki, the boy and the Howler saw behind the guard a madam in her later years, yet with still enough youthfulness to her face. Her greying hair betrayed her visage. “I’ll have you all know that this is no time for childish indignance. Find the shelter immediately, am I heard?” The voice of this woman was not one for questions that needed answers. It had all the tender yet firm strictness of a well-brought, ready-minded individual.

Mumble, however, wasn’t having it. “Woah, hold it. How old do ya think I am, wrinkles? I ain’t nobody’s bitch. I’ll fuckin’ join ‘em, fuck it.”

The chief strategist, Merean, bent down a few notches to reach eye-level with the impish boy. “Your likes are barely suited for your own niches. Would you obstruct our troopers when they storm out into the world for your protection?”

“There ain’t no one gotta protect me,” Mumble hissed back, only for Chloe to stick her paw on his mouth. “Phta, glagh, bleugh! Ya mutt!” he growled.

“With teeth like those, you can look like a Howler when you get all puffy. But you’re still just a cub,” Chloe said, exasperated. “Can’t you see this person is trying to help you? Tokken, convince him.”

Tokken chuckled. “Me? Why would he listen to——”

“Pigeon Shit,” Mumble cut.

“Exactly.”

“Out!” Merean shouted, to which the group practically scrambled away. Even Mumble jumped. The children were mindful enough to cooperate now that things were serious. The chief wiped her brow and turned behind her, from where the quakes came from. She sighed. “So, the time has come again.”

“Lady Merean?” the soldier said, still dizzy from the hit.

“Oph, don’t call me ‘Lady’. I’m trying to forget how long it’s been since I began service.”

“If you would, miss, why are you bloodied?” he asked, wary and on his guard.

Merean didn’t react to his defensiveness, shaken only partly by the distant chaos and the future ahead. “A lot of things have transpired. It seems our two Celestials have been lost.”

“How so, ma’am?”

“One dead, one mad.”

“Why are we running, doggy?”

“Yeah, yeah, where are we going, doggy?”

“That lady’s super scary… Why was she yelling? Were we bad?”

Chloe breathed ragged as she ran to keep up with the kids—one of the younger boys and a girl riding her like a horse— whereas Mumble strayed behind reluctantly.

“Please, don’t call me a dog. You’ll all be fine, I promise. We have to move now,” Chloe said in response to the boy on her back.

“But… But I almost caught that fish! I wanna try again! Pleeaase!” the boy complained.

“Don’t be stupid, dumbhead. Look, it’s raining!” the girl in front said, pointing outside the clear windows.

Chloe too scanned the weather out them. The clouds sure turned gloomy. “You’re right. It looks like we just missed it. Mumble! Do you think that has anything to do with whatever mayhem is——?”

She turned behind her, spotting Mumble, and noticed he had slowed to nothing. To his surprise, when the fifteen-year-old looked behind him, he saw Tokken didn’t make it very far before stopping, having seen something out the massive glass panes that caught his attention. Like a brick, the memory of the teen’s crazed face rattled him. The knife on his belt pulsated like a beating heart.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

It was clear to him now that he had made a fatal mistake. By just one uncalculated arrival, Sagittar was effectively cornered. Corvus, the Mynotaurs, the gunmen; they could be dealt with. Throw Isosceles into the mix and you spell for disaster. To whomever the damage was greatest, it wouldn’t matter — if this came down to blows, Sagittar would be captured or killed in minutes.

But not all hope was lost to the cultist, for there was one crucial flaw in the Magician’s vile might. It was in the name.

“Core of value, this very fate-ily met occasion, for I dreamt of excitement and it came to be heard like a knock on cowbell. Honesty, I do find fondness in this. Such tension. The atmosphere is smiting me! Galore! Encore!” not-Jack announced with open arms.

He was utterly, hopelessly mad.

Now was no time to plot verbal warfare, however, as the Celestial divebombed with spear in arm. The strange four-ended scythe swung around Sagittar’s wind guard and clanged brutally against the spearhead, slipping the sharp off its surface to penetrate a few inches of wind before being bashed aside by the floating weapon. An earthen snake then rose from the floor in a ravine, breaking apart the foundation upon which they all—except the observational madman—stood upon. Having become used to these repetitive attacks, Corvus lifted his feet off the floor with a single beat of his feathers, and using the momentum of the pushed spear, he hewed the spear horizontally and vertically, forcing Sagittar to retreat closer to Isosceles.

In a panic, a sweeping sphere of air manifested by Corvus’ waist and threw his legs back with a powerful burst, like a balloon popping. The Celestial’s wings reflexively shook, and with two or three flaps he was back on his boots, though staggered. This moment of vulnerability was nearly exploited, but suddenly, a certain magician’s coat fell between the two and sprung into being, taking Sagittar’s attack with still the great big grin of a Chesire cat.

The winds blown Corvus’ way were strong enough to raise and flutter the Maddened One’s gown like a flag under storm, though never enough to uncover his unseen legs. Beyond that, he seemed relatively speckless.

With his arms behind his back, Isosceles leaned his head close, his hat tilting forward as he did. “Wha’th you, the desire for murder?” he said, in his usual incoherent-ness. “Sense made, Red, but could I light wills to act as a liaison?”

“Don’t waste my time, Jack…!” Sagittar said scornfully.

“It’s Isosceles now, truthed,” he replied, never not amused, and in one swing of his arm, uprisen bricks and ruined carpets came back together haphazardly, mending the floor to appreciable effect. At the same time, a flare of flame shone brightly between them, spitting oven air away from it as it built into a substantial, stational fireball.

Noire, too slow to move alone, put an arm to his eyes and tried in vain to blast himself backwards, only for his back to collide with a wall of stone. With no time to escape, the Harbinger brought his flying scythe in front of him like a shield and blasted immense jets of wind outward; giving his all to avoid the damage that would soon come. And then all was quiet. For a few moments, not-Noire continued his desperate act of protection, wasting away at his reserves for a chance at survival. But when he drew his first tired breath, he noticed the fiery spell too subsided. His head peaked over the scythe’s edge before the silent ball of concentrated plasma exploded.

For a good three seconds, the equivocal noise produced could only be explained to be within the range of cannon fire and the stinging backhand of a Cosmic Deity itself — so loud that the tinnitus that followed could be enough to fell an opponent alone, and stunningly, it all came to an immediate end with the retreat of Isosceles’ fingers into his palm, balling his hand into a fist. The explosion was nullified as if the bubble that contained it had thoroughly deprived it of oxygen. All the flaming prowess of Al-Incenhor, the Guiding Earl of Igneous magic, extinguished in an instant.

Exulting in their clear and quick victory, one that would seal a great deal of conflict of years past and to come, Corvus looked on in awe at first of the miracle performance of the Magician, and then in abject repugnance when the spell was cancelled.

“Isosceles, by the divine Gates, what in the world are you doing?!” the Celestial blurted.

Through ashes that settled, a spent Harbinger fell from behind the thumping metal of the Red Scourge, dropping to his hands and knees, clearly alive.

Isosceles swivelled his body around to greet the angel, his hands still firmly behind him. “Dustily he is left, torn and worn, left having felt smouldering heat. Truly, this one has faced the fury of mountains. His will shows he has had enough, look at him.”

“He has had enough…?” Corvus felt the urge to laugh with every second wearing at his wilting sane mind.

“Quite indeedly so. Said all that, look at you.” Isosceles craned his neck closer and whispered, “With that little gloom in those eyes, I could presume you to be the villain. Be wary now!” he suddenly proclaimed in a large tone. As he did, the room became overrun with a pooling desynchronised swarm of different-facing winds. “Accept the role of our sky-high director, for He and She have only faith in ye, and don’t stray from lovely course as such! Ah, bah! Gracious are they, the Twins of Cosmos!”

Corvus was dumbfounded, yet filled with a deeply rooted rage that only continued to bloom like a red flower parasitising on his heart. “The boon to our agreement… You are to fulfil the Syndicate’s will, you mindless beast! End the job, immediately!”

“What now? What’s this I hear?” Isosceles stopped his loud, pointless declarations and paused his excitement, the room becoming quiet. His voice too became a mutter. “The job is done, heaven-sent. Or is it, perhaps, that you too seek death?”

The Celestial wavered for a moment, standing firm yet awkwardly. “I do not…!”

The tension lifted when the mage giggled in a slur. “Then matters be settled! Even if they weren’t, you can’t possibly expect me to filthy my gloves with his blood! My good friend forbade it!”

Before any further objections could be made, a strong voice called from behind. “Don’t try to reason with him, Lieutenant. Finish this or I fuckin’ will,” the three-armed Cryptid proclaimed, bringing Corvus back to the world of reason; though his intentions still shone red.

“Of course,” Corvus said, letting the spear loosen in his grip comfortably, approaching the fallen body of a man whose life had run for a few centuries too long.

To think it was this easy must have felt humiliating, but surely, a Crimson bearer of Melancholy should wish nothing more than to die pitifully. The sheer contempt the angel felt that day would never be matched again. Recalling the anguish this fiend had put countless through in his lifetime, Corvus truly felt his every bit of forgiveness slip away from his mind. What’s worse, this wasn’t even the man responsible for his anguish, and while he would have preferred Isosceles not spare his life, this left at least the chance for answers.

With merciless furrowed brows and cold, settled lips, Corvus watched as the frail body of an old Conquest strained itself to stand. It was as if he were watching an elder struggle to stand after falling over and doing nothing. A sight completely vile to the ignorant.

For some cruel reason, Corvus allowed Sagittar to stand and turn his back towards him, walking slowly towards the massive, shattered window. Sagittar’s breathing was ragged with each painful step, feeling injuries that hadn’t deformed his body, yet still burned like lashing from the sun.

And then, about five steps closer to the outside, a spearhead sliced through his back and out his right chest, skewering his lung. Sagittar heaved out a gurgling mess as his movements were locked; made to stand only by the wooden rod that held him up from within.

“I missed your heart,” Corvus said apathetically. “Look at you, wretch. Even your blood is darkened by His influence.”

“Ah…” Sagittar could only make short moans of pain.

“Now, foulness, before you expire, tell me. Where is the man responsible?”

“Even as I die, you obsess for revenge. Is my blood not enough?” Sagittar implored.

Corvus was surprised to hear a lack of weakness in that sentence but chose not to pay it mind. “Even as you die, you still cling to defend the needless killing of Erica.”

“I assure you, it wasn’t needless. The boy must feed to live.”

A thought ran through Corvus’ mind, and his eyes closed in understanding. “It was Famine, then. I swear to cleanse his soul when he lays by my sword.”

The Harbinger, spitting blood, managed to chuckle. “Your broken——”

“Silence!” Corvus boomed, a divine wrath building in his soul. “Answer me this then, at least. In your accursed lands, a Celestial remains. Where is she?”

“Myldew?”

“Nay. The Guardian’s Bow, Lyth.”

“Lyth…” Sagittar mumbled a few words under his breath before continuing. “Yes… I have heard this name before. A certain Lyth was the word of complaint from Gatekeepers on all fronts but the mute South. I haven’t heard of her of late, however.” Sagittar put his hands on the spearhead and shifted his body, trying to find comfort while impaled. With a groan, he added, “If she was killed too, I am sorry.”

Corvus narrowed his eyes. “You pretend not to remember her.”

“My memory…” Sagittar coughed, “has been failing me for very long. Curse of age.”

“And Foresight.”

“Corvus! Kill the man already!” Bruttus commanded.

The Celestial nodded. “Very well.”

The spear twisted within Sagittar’s chest, and a foot was put to his back.

“It seems… I was so close…” Sagittar tried to say.

“You might have come closer had you executed your unveiling more promptly. Now die.”

The foot was pressed firmly against his spine, and in one push, the anchorage of the spearhead would shred his inner core well beyond repair and salvation. But, before he could, Sagittar spoke once more.

“The Guardian… has come…”

Corvus’ eyes widened as a jet of air pushed him off his one leg to then bounce off the floor. At the same time, Sagittar took a bleeding hold of the spearhead and, with a horrid shout and a visceral squelch, the full length of the polearm was pushed through his system and out the other end with superhuman strength; avoiding, albeit most painfully, the destructive force of the anchor-like tip. In doing so, the ejection pushed him forward, but he kept his feet on the floor and finally, his back arched forward, he touched the window frame.

“I condemned you to die, you bastard!” Corvus exclaimed after standing on shaking knees, foaming from the mouth. Before he could come closer, the sweeping force of the three-armed Cryptid swept him to his knees.

“I’ve had about enough of yar non’ense, Conquest!” Bruttus announced, rushing towards the severely wounded human-like man hand-and-hoof much to the bull he was; his horns swatting the floating Red Scourge away like a fly.

Sagittar extended his shaking arms towards the heavens that leered above, feeling the cool embrace of the outside on his exposed limbs as he stuck them through the window. The skies greyed and the wind became chilly.

Isosceles remained unmoving, chattering along like a bird who never tired. He swung like a disturbed chandelier by the rooftop and shouted a rambunctious ‘oomph!’ upon seeing the Mynotaur ram Sagittar’s body out the frame to roll like a doll against the grass; filthying his coat with dirt.

“Bruttus, no!” Corvus’ hands tightened when the bull unceremoniously flung the Crimson’s ruined body outside.

Despite his bleeding and several broken bones, Sagittar still managed to stand up, limping toward the treeline. Huffing, Bruttus cut his hand on the glass lifting himself up and over the window frame, hitting the ground outside with a thunder. Rain began to fall on his leather skin, the cold negligible to the furred beast. Each step came with a menacing thud as he made his way to the crippled murderer of many.

He reached behind for his back belt and produced a small axe with a long, rounded edge. Sagittar couldn’t make it to the trees in time, and in an act of defence, he turned his broken self around and faced the bull, forcing him to stop.

Bruttus snorted. “I didn’t expect ya t’be all old and useless, like. Was this a suicide mission?”

Sagittar fought through the pain of his broken tibia and the hole in his lung, wheezing a response. “I would wager… I’m not one so miserable as to want to meet death on warred grounds.”

The Mynotaur dropped the handle into two of his three muscular arms. “Can’t ya see history’s repeatin’ itself? Is this gonna — going to carry on through all time? Ain’t yar God tired of hate by now?”

“If I could answer… that question… I would.” Sagittar’s voice became slow, having to pant more just to survive.

The sudden grind and roar of a vehicle entering the field caught both of their attention, and when the Mynotaur looked back, he felt his face scrunch. “Welp, looks like ya were right. Tricksy lil’ devils, aren’t ya? Best we end this ‘fore it gets even messier.”

“Cer…tainly… I apologise… for the wait.”

“I’ll take yar forgiveness. Maybe in another life, we’ll sort it all out, eh?” Bruttus offered with a strangely convincing smile. He raised his axe high, and then…

“Boss! Stop ‘im!” Norman howled from far away.

“Holy fuck, what’s gone on around here?!” Holly said, sliding off the bike once the hum died quick.

Emris was left with a loose jaw as he eyed the sheer destruction that had taken place. There was a mass of soldiers geared and marching out the front gate; a whole section of the halls had been gouged out from the inside, and from within walked out a man with wings and another floated without them. There too was a sore Mynotaur who reached out in front of him with a booming holler. Turning his head right, Em saw his fellow Brigadier raise an axe to none other than his mortal enemy, a sight that briefly turned his mind ballistic, but his cold blood was swiftly made to run warm as he noticed the fleeting danger that loomed. The young teen with quartz hair, the last Tsuki whom he had rescued some time ago, sprinted like a maniac toward the two.

“Shite, Tokken!” Emris shouted, his mind unfocusing from the unfiltered wrath he felt towards the near-dead Harbinger.

The combined ruckus of his subordinate and compatriot was enough to turn Bruttus’ head back before the chop, and regret it he would, as his blade lowered and struck damp mud uselessly. Emris managed to catch up to the lad at blinding speeds, blowing him off his feet and landing on top of him hard enough to bang his head clear of the glowing dagger’s control for a moment long enough for his returned sanity to allow him one warning shriek.

“GUARDIAN, FROM THE TREES! HURRY!”

Emris raised himself quickly off the boy and looked up at the vegetation. He didn’t understand Tokken’s cry at first, but when he did, his eyes widened.

“HOLLY!” Emris boomed, “SOLDIERS!” he roared, “TAKE COVER!”

Bruttus swivelled his sight back to the Crimson in front of him. He noticed, in the few seconds of silence that remained, that Sagittar’s skull had sprouted two curved horns like those of a goat that reared from the sides of his hair and pointed backwards. His eyes, too, shone with a blend of vengeance and sorrow.

“I truly pray,” he said, straining for a breath, “that your and mine race… should ever speak in peace. In another life.”

Bruttus’ eyes widened as the screams of many men and women filled the brutal world when, at once, thousands of metallic shards flew out like bullets from every shadow the trees shaded and the earth trembled like a seism as hundreds of beasts erupted from the mud — at first like large clots of a blackened, crimson fluid that took form and gave birth to countless deformed monsters tasked with devouring with ravenous hunger. Even from miles away, the principle of Famine took credence in the foulest ways imaginable.

With that decisive, critical moment of inaction, the combined efforts of the Syndicate failed to prevent the second siege. The second Galloping.