Interlude IX

On the bow of the Flagship Khardashian, in an encrypted communications chamber Admiral Lemitov, human commander of the first armada held a three-dimensional communications channel with three hooded and masked individuals. The Admiral also had on his mask, though he knew it would do him little good right now. He had purposefully used his own credentials to obtain access to this deck just for this non-traceable communication.

Once everyone was on, the Admiral began. While he held no real rank amongst the remaining four that were assembled, it was his character that he possessed that demanded he take control of the situation.

“So, it is official?” Lemitov asked.

“Yes, we have confirmed. Not only did the puppet master foolishly allow himself to die, but before his final passing, he cursed us.” The speaker to the left said, her voice feminine and rough.

“So, we all have it?”

“The dying cause curse, yes. I can confirm that I too have it.” The speaker to the center added.

“As do I.” The final speaker to the right also confirmed.

With that, Lemitov looked to his marker that was always present in his mind. At the top right corner of his eye, he could see a glowing red light. Then if he focused intently at that light, it would expand until he was met with the following description.

Dying Cause Curse: When down to just two heralds, this binding curse allows the final two to automatically self-sacrifice, to summon forth the Behemoth.

“Does anyone have anything that can stop this?” Lemitov asked, trying to keep the tone of desperation from filling his voice that he now felt.

“To counter a Puppet Master’s power, no. They are after all the leaders. I say you should have killed him a little sooner, fratricide and all that.” The feminine voice to the left shot out.

“I did it to kill him. And I got him.” Lemitov said, as he let out not only a relieved sigh, but also a bit of fear he had been holding onto. Something about the whole thing seemed too easy, there was the target, and he got to take out the overbearing overlord and the main enemy with one calculated blow. It was almost too much to ask for, well until he realized the bastard of an overlord had some type of doomsday trump card. This, should not be too surprising, as they all had something similar. The Admiral still held onto his last item, though he didn’t know when or if he could use it. It was meant to be used against the main hero, but with the main hero already defeated such an item was effectively a waste at best, and worse a sign of who he really was.

“No, I have managed to obtain footage of a particular MAC fight held at the border of Human and Endarian space.” The person at the center began.

Click.

Then with that the image of an orange and purple winged male guardian appeared before them, playing Endar Rising while killing hundreds of innocent Prolaxians. The sight was enough to make Lemitov’s stomach turn with disgust. What was worse, was the way the audience got into it, stomping their feet in rhythm to his incessant noise he produced on that vile world tree instrument.

“Where is he?!” Lemitov demanded, anger filling his voice, as he suddenly felt both rage and anger at how he could have missed the boy. Then for him to go about flaunting the fact that he was still alive, despite taking on an orbital bombardment head on. That boy had more lives than a Mega Herald with two resurrection curses.

“Admiral, you cannot. Or at least I would advise against going after him.” The speaker from the center began, their voice calm and placating.

“Why is that?” The Admiral said, the vein in his temple was throbbing wildly at this point.

“Because Admiral, he is protected. Right now very few know about this, meaning that if you make your move now, it will be known that I or one of a very select few warned you of this.” The speaker from the center began.

Lemitov wanted to argue, but then quickly shut down. They were right, if this was an information leak designed to lure out possible heralds, then this was a perfect ploy. In the past Lemitov would have gone forward anyways, but now with this final curse hanging over his head, he had to be more patient.

“So, what do you plan we do exactly?” Admiral Lemitov asked, finally after calming down enough to realize that everyone here was out for the same two goals that he was, to bring about the end of the universe, and to stay alive during the process.

“You set up a trap. You know he will come to you. Set the field, you still have your item, right?” The speaker on the right asked.

“Yes.” Lemitov answered.

“It would be a shame for it to go to waste, no?” The speaker on the right continued.

With that Lemitov smiled bitterly to himself. “You are right, it would be a waste to have such a perfectly good artifact and never be able to use it.”

***

MEANWHILE, in the same universe, on the planet that the admiral’s flagship flew over in a sign of ever vigilant protection, a different meeting was taking place.

“Report.” A crisp female voice said in a tone that demanded absolute respect and obedience.

“I managed to survive the blast unscathed.” Dr. Thurston Charleston said.

“What can you tell me about the one who permanently destroyed your subordinate?” The voice continued.

“Permanently?” Dr. Charleston asked, his voice filled with incredulity.

“Yes, permanently. She has not, nor will she ever be able to return to the cycle.” The voice of the Curator began.

“Who could have…”

“Who do you think. Your pet project. You spent all your time and resources into building up the ultimate attack dog, and now it has bit its master’s hand. What is your plan for bringing him to heel?”

“Curator, the last time I saw him was before the orbital bombardment. He was supposed to be killed during that blast. Did he somehow survive?” Dr. Charleston asked.

“You don’t know. You are telling me, that you seriously didn’t know. And dang it, now I am being hit with sanctions. Well since I am already getting hit for telling you, I might as well get my money’s worth as they say. Yes, he clearly survived. Now tell me, what your plan for him is?”

Dr. Charleston paused. If he was alive, the black veins that recently began to appear on his arms made sense. Not only was he alive, but he knew.

“I have a plan to win this war, once and for all.”

The Curator paused as she stopped to stare and glare at Dr. Charleston. Then after a moment’s pause, she asked. “You realize this is but one of many universes we are fighting in, right? You know our numbers are dwindling every day. The last thing we need is for one of our best up and coming talents to throw away their future potential for one universe that ultimately means nothing.” The Curator said. Her tone was cold and callous, the voice of someone who had been part of many battles across many different universes. Her words were meant to be protecting, to keep Dr. Charleston safe from himself. Yet, they had the exact opposite effect.

Granted this was his first universe he had been assigned to, but he had grown and seen things here that made him truly feel alive. He managed to help people, not just the main components, but inconsequential people as well. He could see the difference one person could make on dozens of lives. This was a unique universe, like they all were, complete with their own back stories.

He had developed his whole persona perfectly to match the blessings he bestowed upon the Main Hero. Past Lives: The hero gets to experience and retain most of the knowledge from twelve different past lives to help their future. This bestows twelve unique skills that will be useful in saving the universe. Warning: Might cause instability in candidates with low Willpower.

Then after that, he used his second blessing, one that was now coming back to bite him. Calming Mind: You can calm the cares and fears of any of the main heroes simply by talking to them. This is a passive ability and will always remain in effect. Warning: The longer you use this, the greater your chance of being discovered become.

It was that second blessing that made him choose to become a psychiatrist for this life. And despite it all, even though it was all likely going to come to an end for him. He did not regret a single decision he made.

“I beg to differ.” Dr. Charleston said.

“What?” The Curator said, her voice more of a squawk from having been interrupted so.

“I beg to differ. To you this universe might mean nothing, and perhaps that is why we are losing this war. Every day the enemy gains the same number of heralds, while our numbers sent to watch over the universes dwindle. But it is with attitudes like yours that we are losing this war.” Dr. Charleston said.

“You have been relieved of your duties; you will stand down immediately.” The Curator said.

Dr. Charleston stared at the woman, who was so used to unquestioning authority, that she dared not even consider his statements as anything other than a direct challenge of her ability to lead.

“My duties are a relief.” Dr. Charleston shot back.

“I will send in an extractor to retrieve you immediately.” The Curator said.

With that, Dr. Charleston smiled. The motion was tough on his lips that had never managed to perform the act well before. In the end he ended up looking like someone who was snarling under the guise of a smile.

“They’ll have to find me. Until then, I have a universe to save.” Dr. Charleston said and ended his communication.

Once the communication ended, the false bravado he had felt moments before left him. His legs felt weak, as his heart began to beat rapidly.

“Is this what it means to be truly alive?” Dr. Charleston asked, as he put his hand over his rapidly beating heart. He had never experienced such emotions, such joy and exhilaration all at once. He was scared, but it was the good kind of scared, the scared that motivated people, and how him to do more with the time they still had left. That was exactly what Dr. Charleston would do, he would live his life to the fullest, trying to do the most he could for the cause.

He no longer cared about keeping his cover, his end would come when it came. Until that point, he would have no regrets about anything, never again.