Chapter 1: Of Titans and Men
Summary:
The beginning of the story, the introduction of Rex and Gramps.
Chapter Text
In the murky depths of the Cloud Sea, one's vision is all but obscured, hardly helped by the scuffed visor of a salvaging suit. Despite this, it is a salvager's job to navigate, and locate treasures from long passed civilizations. Being a salvager is not a task for the faint of heart, the shadowy uncertainty found in the Cloud Sea’s depths could drive a man mad.
Call me insane, reckless, an idiot, or whatever colorful term you could come up with, but I have grown up surrounded by these clouds, and I find solace in them, almost making it seem like I was born for this job. On my home titans, the Leftherian Archipelago, we made our livelihoods in the cloud sea. We fished, swam, cliff jumped, whatever you could imagine. By the time I was old enough to understand the concept of money, I knew that the best way I could help my family could be found in the depths of these clouds.
Today though, I am just trying to make enough cash to keep food on the table, or whatever passes as one on Gramp’s back.
As I descend through the clouds, I notice the skeletal frame of a fallen titan. On the edge of one of its bones, I notice my target: A metal crate, made of tarnished, black metal, about a head shorter than I am tall.
I launch my small, wrist mounted anchor, and it imbeds itself in the bone of the titan. It pulls me forward, and I land on the bone, just in front of the crate, and I place an air balloon on the top of it. As the balloon begins to inflate, the box begins to rise. Before it floats out of reach, I cling on, riding its ascent to the surface.
Near the surface, I find the hook and platform tied to Gramp’s crane. As the crate continues to rise with the balloon, I attach the crane to the hook in the surface of the balloon, and swim to the platform above. I turn off the headlamp on my helmet, and press the button on the platform, causing it to pull both me, and my treasure, to the surface.
The crane pulls me up just next to the small, grassy piece of land I call home, and swivels 180 degrees, leaving me able to jump from the platform, and safely onto land.
I sigh. “We really need to buy ourselves a new depth probe. The ping was off by 150 peds to the east, that ain’t gonna fly!” I say while removing my helmet, and what remains of my salvaging suit.
An older, wisened voice speaks from behind me, “And what about the treasure, Rex? Is it in line with your expectations, at least?”
I pick up a crowbar, and approach the box, speaking as I walk, “It seemed pretty solid, I didn’t even need to reinforce it much. Even with the labor costs, we should be able to turn a tidy profit.
The front of the island begins to shift, a protrusion lifting upwards. As the protrusion reaches its zenith, the giant, draconic head of a titan on its end shifts to face me.
Gramps’ head has a rocky appearance, with blue dorsal fins along the side, though his most prominent features lie in the long, lancelike horn on his forehead, and the protrusion on what us humans would call a chin, resembling a goatee. Along the back of his neck, grass grows, flowing down to his tail, near where I am standing and where the crane is mounted.
Gramps says, “Honestly, it takes you two days to run the structural analysis, and yet you can judge the profits in an instant?”
I chuckle, “Don’t go raining on my parade, Gramps! You know I am in the salvaging trade for the cash!”
I take a step forward, and slam the edge of the crowbar into the side panel of the crate, and begin to pull with all of my might.
“A little business sense goes a long wa-”
As the frame of the box begins to give way, a large force from inside of the crate launches outward, knocking me back.
Gramps screams in his harsh, raspy voice “Rex!!”
“I’m alright, alright, Gramps? I’ve got this” I say, regaining my footing. “I didn’t expect THAT! You been living in this thing, big guy?”
I identify the creature I am facing as a King Crustip, a large, lobster-like monster that lives in this part of the Cloud Sea.
I run backwards, not leaving my back open to the danger in front of me, into the small hut I call a house, and grab my weapon, a trusty, foldable blade that can extend outward. Portable, and not too sharp, but it gets the job done.
I exit the hut, and approach the crustacean. “Don’t worry, Gramps, you’ve trained me well enough to handle small fry like this. I guess we’ve found our lunch!”
Chapter 2: The Tale of Elysium
Chapter Text
Our world, Alrest, has no land of its own. Instead, we live on the backs of giant beasts known as Titans. In the center of our world, lies the world tree. A massive, towering tree that grows from the bottom of the sea of clouds, and higher than the eye can see.
Legend has it that at the very top of the World Tree, lies the land of Elysium. The only place in this world that does not rely on the charity of the titans, whom are said to be the Architect's, the creator of this world's, servants, for land. Word is that there is an infinite, sprawling landscape, with enough space and resources for all of the people of Alrest to live happily.
As charitable as the Titans are, they are far from immortal. Though their lifespans are far longer than any human could possibly hope for, they are beginning to die out. And with the extinction of the titans, lies the death of this world.
Because of this, I have always held fascination in the tale of Elysium, because if it is true, it may be the only hope for this world. Most people have written off the tale as a mere children’s story, but it has always been my dream to find the truth in this story. Whether this means climbing to the top of the World Tree, or finding the Architect himself, I have never known, though it has never been anything more than a pipe dream, anyway.
Although, back on Gramp’s back, I am more worried about getting my lunch. Crustips may be dangerous to the inexperienced, but Gramps has been training me with this sword for as long as I can remember, and the anchor on my wrist is as adept a weapon as any blade. As soon as I decided I wanted to be a salvager, Gramps taught me to use any possible tool to my advantage, and sometimes, that means launching an anchor at the face of a crustacean. Before long, I have a claw on the grill, and the smell of cooked meat fills the air,
“Ahh, the brazier does my weary old bones good…” Gramps rumbles pleasurably
“Want me to move it, Gramps?”
“No, no, there is good…”
As I eat, a massive, bellowing sound catches the attention of Gramps and I. When I rise from my seat, and walk to the edge of Gramp’s back, I see the cause of the sound
A Titan. Breaching the Cloud Sea, the crystal in its chest flickering with light that eventually fades. Gramps and I watch with sadness as the mighty titan sinks beneath the clouds for the final time, dying.
“Not another one….. It’s been happenin’ a lot lately.” I say glumly
“Mm… Moreso than before,” Gramps agrees
“I wonder if anyone was living there?”
“It seems not. And if there had been, they would have all left by now.”
“Makes sense….” I hesitate for a moment, and then quietly ask “Hey Gramps…. Do you think Fonsett Village will sink one day?”
Gramps responds gently, “It would not be today, nor tomorrow, but one day, yes, it will fall…”
“And you, too?”
“That is how it goes, with us titans. There’s no way around it.”
“And soon, there will be no space left to live….”
I look sadly up at the World Tree, pondering the legend born in its highest branches.
“So... You titans were born up there, weren’t you?”
“Or so they say. For all it’s worth, I was born here, on Alrest. My ancestors, though, who can say for sure. “
“Can it really exist? This ‘Elysium’? And the creator who is said to live there ....”
“A land of plenty, all atop the world tree… it sure would be nice. If it were true, no one would have to worry about space or resources. We could live in peace, with no need for fighting.”
“Sure would be great… even for folks in Fonsett. If the Divine Architect could see us now, I wonder what he’d think.”
After I finish eating, I stand up, and decide to change the topic.
“Alright! Back to making money. How’dya feel about a swim to the Argentum Trade Guild?”
“Ugh….. You’re planning on selling it now? It’s getting towards my bedtime ....” Gramps grumbles.
“Don’t play the lazy old man bit with me today, Gramps, there's plenty of daytime left!”
“Kids today, no respect, I swear…”
Chapter 3: Argentum and Torna
Summary:
Rex journeys to the Argentum Trade Guild to trade in his salvage, and gets stopped by Pupunin, who says the chairman has a Job for him. Bana introduces him to Nia, her blade Dromarch, Mythra, her blade Phantylia, and Jin, who explain the details of the job.
Notes:
Here's my second update! We're in to the start of semi-original content, with the introduction of Mythra and Phantylia.
Chapter Text
Despite the old man act, Gramps can move fairly quickly. Within the day, we arrive at the Argentum Trade Guild.
Argentum is a Trade Guild run by Nopon, small, orblike creatures with winglike flaps on the top of their heads, and a surprisingly shrewd business sense. Argentum is maintained by several, smaller titans that float above the clouds. The main ships of argentum are tied to these titans, and float on the clouds. In this way, the trade guild is one of the most portable groups in Alrest, assisting with their outreach and success.
When we arrive at Argentum, we dock at its port. The dockhand, a kindly man named Hirkham, approaches us.
“Why if it isn’t Rex! How’s business going?” Hirkham yells up at me
I jump down from Gramp’s back, with my bag of salvage slung over my shoulder,
“Going alright! Else I wouldn’t be here, I suppose.”
“Ah, suppose that’s true. Which one am I unloading?
“We can leave that until I am done negotiating. Shouldn’t take long!”
“Well, mooring is 15 gold per half da-”
I run off before he can finish, chuckling a bit to myself
Hirkham looks up at Gramps hopefully
“No wallet, I’m afraid….”
As I run across the port, I am amazed by the variety of ships I see docked around the area. Titan ships, which are as they sound, massive ships with a modified titan at their core, and even some ships that don’t rely on titans at all. Seeing the innovation in these ports makes me hopeful for a future without titans. Maybe we can survive after all? Though the idea of a future without Gramps only saddens me.
As I exit the port, and enter the main building of Argentum, I get lost in my surroundings, as always. Argentum’s main hall is a sprawling area, with more shops and merchants than you could ever hope to visit in your lifetime, mostly run by Nopon. I fight the urge to visit Shynini’s Accessories to check out that Abyss Vest I’ve had my eyes on, but I ultimately decide against it. It’s not like I could ever have enough gold to afford it, I need to be sending that kind of money back home.
Fighting against more temptation, I head to the central exchange to trade in my salvage. The Nopon at the desk, Melolo, greets me kindly
“Reeeexx! You bring salvage for sell? Come, come! What you bring!”
I empty my bag on the desk in front of her, “This and that. Nothing too much, how much gold do you think I can get for the lot?”
“Meh-meh, I can gives maybe 500 G. “
“What!? That’s it?”
“Is life, meh! Still more than I give non-friend. If you bring military supplies, you get good price!” As she says this, she looks to the right, indicating two factions of soldiers obviously trying to avoid each other. “Ceasefire between Uraya and Mor Ardain not keep much longer methinks. Weaponry is hot item!”
I hesitate to respond, and she continues to speak before I get the chance, “Well? What friend think? I make it worth your while!”
I respond meekly, “I’ve told you before, I stay away from that kind of thing. It’s not my style…”
Melolo responds, “Oh is shame! Rex is great salvager, is good way to earn pretty penny! Waste of talent, if you ask me! Anyhoo, where were we?”
I respond, trying to ignore the hurtful comment, “I’ll take it. 200 now, you know what to do with the rest. “
“Oki-Doodles! Sending monies to Corinne of Fonsett Village, in the Leftherian Archipelago? Is right?”
“Yeah, that’s right”
“Oh, is beautiful thing! Sending monies home at such a young age. Wish own dum-dum littlepon did same. “
“It’s coz Gramps doesn’t charge rent, ehehe. I’m countin on ya!” I turn and begin to walk away,
“Pleasure doing business!”
Before I’ve even gotten twenty feet from Central Exchange, I’m stopped by another Nopon and his 2 human bodyguards.
“Hello, Rex!” Says the Nopon
“Pupunin! It’s been ages, how have you been!”
“Not bad, not bad. Wife ran out on me, but cannot complain. Rex seems in high spirits. Ah, no, what term… Ah! Peppy.”
“Been worse! So, you’ve got something for me? A job, maybe?”
“Something like that. Ah, by the way… Rex come from Fonsett Village in Leftherian Archipelago, yes?
Fearing something bad had happened, I responded almost too hastily, “Yeah, that’s right. Why d’you ask?”
“You should go straight to boardroom of Chairman!”
“Wait, what did I do? Did I do something wrong?”
“Chairman Bana ask for Rex by name!”
“The Chairman? For me?”
“Pupunin has no more information for Rex. If want more info, head straight to chairman!”
Trying not to look a gift Ardun in the mouth, I go straight to the chairman’s office, and the woman at the doors open it without even asking for my name.
“ Huh, it seems like the chairman really did ask for me”, I think to myself
I enter the chairman's office, with my heart beating out of my chest. I lay eyes on the chairman, and it’s like the air leaves my lungs.
He is an utterly massive Nopon, with blue fur, a monocle, and clearly expensive accouterments. His wings begin the flap wildly when he notices my presence.
“Thank you for accepting summons! I Bana, Chairman of Argentum Trade Guild.”
I try to seem professional, but it’s hard to look him in the eye, considering the “personal dancers” at his sides. “It’s uh, an honor, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Me hear from Pupunin that friend is salvager of some renown.
That being case, I have teensy weensy thing to ask of Rex!”
I tense at the thought of it, “A request straight from the chairman!?”
“Reward is 100,000 gold.”
Upon hearing these words, I begin to wholeheartedly believe that I am dreaming.
“A-a hundred thousand???” I almost yell
“Friend hear right!” Bana says smugly, “Actually, that just the advance. Another 100,000 provided upon job completion.”
“T-two hundred thousand in total..? I must be dreaming…. I’ll do it!” I say, almost trying too hard to seem eager, “I’ll use every skill that I possess to ensure that this job is a success! I won’t let you down!” I say laughing, almost maniacally at this point
“You agree without even hearing details of job?”
“O-oh, right, what is it?”
Bana lowers his gaze at me, “...You really have skills for this?”
“Of course! I’m a man of my word.”
“Meh, if you say.” Bana retorts, not seeming to actually care about my aptitude, “Crew will explain task.” He turns to the dancer on his right, “Let them in”
The dancer responds promptly, “Sir”, and opens the door to the office.
As the door opens, people begin to flow in.
First through the door is a Gormotti Girl, who seems to be about my age. She wears a yellow jumpsuit, and has shoulder length silver hair, crowned with the Catlike ears that are the staple of the Gormotti people. At her waist are two, bladelike rings. Her weapons of choice, I would assume?
The next person, er, creature through the door both dispels and adds to my confusion. Following the Gormotti, walks in what looks to be a tiger. Silver and black, regal and clearly strong, with a crystal shining in a white armored plate on its chest.
“ It’s a Blade…..” I think to myself, not daring to allow myself utter a single word
Third through the door is a beautiful woman with light, blond hair, wrapped up in a bun. She appears to be in her early to mid twenties, wearing light clothing, and a single, oddly placed plate of armor covering her chest, and black leggings. What appears to be a crystalline scythe adorns her back. She smiles warmly at me, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Floating on ephemeral wings behind her, comes what appears to be a butterfly-like, humanoid Blade. She’s small, with butterfly wings that manage to keep her aloft, despite hardly flapping at all. The crystal on her chest is shaped like an insect, with lightning bolts where the wings would be. Her eyes are extremely bright, lacking pupils, with incredibly long, shock-white hair. She’s pretty, but almost too much so. Like a poisonous flower, you’re inclined to get close, but you know you’ll regret it.
Last through the door is a man that commands attention. Tall, with spiky, gray hair, wearing a gray, jagged mask that covers the top of his face. He wears gray, plated armor, with a single, wickedly sharp Nodachi strapped to his back, with a brilliantly shining blood-red crystal shining at its hilt. Due to the mask, it is hard to determine his age, but I would not place him too late in his twenties.
I say in awe, “Drivers? And Blades? Woah! You all look so cool!”
The man in silver, seeming unsurprised even from the sudden praise, responds “So… There's something we want hauled up. There were some current shifts, it showed up in an uncharted area.”
“Nice, I like myself a nice challenge.” I respond, trying to seem confident
“Bana offer to throw together elite team for this job, but Jin is fickle man. He only want small, elite team, and only from Leftheria. Then, Bana have stroke of genius. Must hire Rex!” Bana adds, rolling the R on my name.
“Hah-ha, you made the right choice!” I say, trying to keep up my confident facade, despite the fact that the small, foldable sword on my waist was starting to feel more and more unworthy of the task
The Gormotti girl teases, “A Child salvager, eh? What, we gonna have to hire a babysitter for this trip too, eh?”
Rage burns inside of me at the tease, “The hell, lady! You seem to be as much of a kid as I am!”
“At least I wouldn’t nearly wet myself at the promise of a mere hundred grand!” She jabs,
As I go to make another retort, the tiger steps in between me and its driver. “Excuse me sir, Rex, was it? Please excuse my Lady’s discourtesy”
The Gormotti jumps in at her Blade’s intervention, “Dromarch! What have I told you about speaking for me!”
Before the argument could continue further, the beautiful woman from earlier stepped forward, “Nia, now now, we know better than to make enemies this early on into the mission. I understand your uncertainty, but we’re a family here, we don’t need to resort to petty bickering.”
She places an almost creepy emphasis on the word “Family”. I agree with what she is saying, but the way she is speaking seems too controlled, too controlling. I can tell who’s really in charge here, anyway.
“You see, this is how we should judge the worth of our allies!”
She lunges forward, her massive, crystalline scythe suddenly in her hands. I am almost unable to react, drawing my blade and barely being able to deflect the scythe as it drags a gash into the carpeted floor of the office.
“What the hell, you madwoman?! What’s the point of having allies if you kill them immediately!?” I yell, incredulously
“You aren’t worthy of being a part of this family if you can’t survive a weak ass attack like that, dear.” The woman responds condescendingly,
“Mythra.” Jin calls to the woman, hardly breaking his attention from the conversation he was having with the chairman, “Not every group we put together for a mission needs to be a ‘family’, we just need to get the job done.” He returns his gaze to the chairman. “I’m sorry about the floor, Chairman, I expect that you will take the repair cost out of my pay.”
“Awww. you’re no fun, Jin.” Mythra coos,
“My, my, what a lively bunch! Worry not, Jin, have extras for this very reason. Do not want to damage relationships with very lucrative business partners.”
“Very well, Chairman Bana, I appreciate your understanding” Jin responds, coldly
“Yeah, I’m sorry too, Chairman..” I say, despite not believing it was my fault in the least.
“Meh-meh, not big deal.” He throws a massive bag of coins on the desk, “Here is advance. Use to buy what gear you need, then go to dock on starboard. Bana has arranged excellent vessel for you there.”
“You’ve got it!”
Chapter 4: Big Job Preparations
Summary:
Rex has an encounter with Phantylia, and then takes the necessary steps to prepare himself for Bana's big job.
Notes:
Here's another update! I've been loving writing, hopefully it won't be long until the next one!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After I retrieve my payment from the Chairman, I turn around to see Mythra’s ethereal Blade’s face directly in mine, her blank white eyes staring emptily into mine. I leap backwards, startled at her sudden appearance.
“Ah! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I say, earnest yet cautiously, “Er, I can’t say that I ever caught your name…”
The Blade speaks, yet her mouth does not move, “I am the one known as Phantylia.” I can somehow gather that her voice is incredibly bright, high pitched, but It’s as if she is speaking directly into my mind. “Your reaction time astounds me, you managed to survive Mythra’s attack. It’s happened before, but never without injury. Who are you?”
“Uh, I, er, I’m Rex. A salvager, but my Gramps has been training me with the sword since I was a child. It was his idea of playtime. Keeping myself safe was the bare minimum of the requirements he had for me to become a salvager. If I wasn’t able to do that, he’d have never let me leave Fonsett.”
Phantylia’s face brightens notably, a smile growing on her pale face, reaching an almost uncanny depth. “You entertain me. I wish to watch you more. Stay alive, lest Mythra catch you before your time. Perhaps, if you’re lucky, you’ll be worthy of her ‘Family’”.
Unsettled at her tone, or whatever passes as one with her telepathy, I respond, “Er, okay, I’ll try. I hope we can work well together.”
“I hope so as well, Rex. I’ll be watching you.” Phantylia’s wings wrap around her tiny frame, and she disappears in a burst of light.
Rubbing the stars out of my eyes, Bana’s gaze catches my attention. “Sorry, Chairman! I’ll get to work, as you asked.” I turn, and exit the office, nodding respectfully at the dancers by the door.
As I leave the office, I realize that Gramps is likely beginning to worry about my absence. I choose to take the time to check in with him before I do anything else to prep for my big job. If I just took off on a random ship without telling him, I’d never hear the end of it when I got back.
When I arrive at the pier where Gramps is docked, I tell him about my experience with the Chairman, and the odd experience with Phantylia.
“That about covers it, Gramps, If I do well on this job, we don’t have to worry about money for a long time. I’ll see ya later, okay? Should be back in a day or two, take it easy!”
Gramps responds, clearly displeased, “That does not ‘About cover it’ in the slightest! Why would you take a job you clearly know nothing about! You don’t even know who your employer is!”
“This job came straight from the Chairman,” I say unconcernedly, “What more do you need? Anyway, I’m off, take a nap while you wait!”
“H-hey! Come back here! Reeeeexxx!”
“Ugh, Gramps doesn’t need to worry so much.” I say aloud, “100,000 G, I could buy a whole new cutting edge salvaging suit. But no, the folks back at home need this money a lot more than I do…. Wait, I can finally buy that Abyss Vest I’ve been wanting! I can buy it, everything else I need, and still have enough to send a ton back home!” I say, almost too excitedly.
I race back into the main hall of Argentum, and search for Shynini’s accessories. I manage to locate the shop in the corner of the building, and approach the store happily.
Shynini greets me happily, “Ah, friend Rex! Good to be seeing!”
“Hey Shynini, you still have that thing we talked about before?”
“Ahh! Rex manage to save up enough money for purchase!”
“Yup! I’ll take it off your hands, if you wouldn’t mind.”
I pull out the pouch that the Chairman gave me, and Shynini’s eyes widen noticeably. “How friend get so much G? Manage to salvage some incredible treasure?”
I laugh a bit at the thought, “No, actually. I got a job straight from the Chairman, he gave me 100,000 G just as an advance. I’m buying some gear to prep for the job now.”
“Wow-wow, very impressive! Shynini’s accessory is sure to protect friend on important job!”
“Aha, I sure hope so. Thanks for the help, Shynini! I doubt this will be the last you see of me.”
“ Okay, now that I have the gear to keep me safe, I should send some gold back home.” I think, “ It’s time to go see Melolo at the central exchange again.”
As I approach Central Exchange, Melolo looks at me quizzically. “Back so soon? Did friend forget something?”
“No, I did not forget anything, per se. Just need to make a cash transfer.”
“Did friend find gold on ground? I understand, even if it small amount, need to take what friend can find.”
“Aha, no… It’s a larger sum,..”
“Larger sum? Like 2,000 G”
“Uh, I’d rather not throw the number around, but, more like a hundred thousand..”
“ HUNDRED THOUSAND!?” Melolo screeches, loudly enough for people in the surroundings to possibly hear
“Not so loud…!”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry much. How friend get so much G? Wait, no tell Melolo, don’t wanna get mixed up in shady business.”
“It’s not that big of a deal….”
“Anyhoodles, Rex. Melolo not able to accept such large sum here anyway. Should take directly to courier. All monies Melolo accept here always delivered through courier called Max.”
“Oh, OK! Max, I know him. I didn't know he was also delivering the money for me all this time... Huh!”
“Well, this certainly make things quicker! Friend know where to find Max?”
“Yeah, he'll be just through the Argentum Bazaar, right? Thanks, Melolo!”
I walk through the Argentum Bazaar to locate the courier, Max. I’ve spoken to him a couple times before, and we get along pretty well.
I find Max near the entrance to the Bazaar, standing next to the wall. “Hey Max! If possible, I’d like to transfer some money”
“Why, if it isn’t Rex! It’s pretty rare for a client to drop off cash in person.”
“It’s a pretty big sum, so Melolo said to drop it off in person.”
“You’re quite the guy, you know. Not too many people send cash to their folks every month”
“Haha, it’s not that big of a deal, is it?”
“Eh, I’d say so. Anyways, how much do you want to send?”
“I want to leave a bit for myself, so let’s say 90,000 G?”
“Whew, that’s quite the healthy sum. Haul up a big treasure, or something.” Max says, clearly impressed
“Something like that. I took a job from the Chairman.”
Max nods his head, “Now that sure sounds like a pie I'd like a piece of. Oh yeah, I got a delivery for you too. Good thing you dropped by, else I'd've had to track you down! It's from that same Auntie Corinne of yours, actually.”
My heart brightens, thinking of Auntie Corinne back at home in Fonsett. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from her, so my heart aches a bit when I think of her.
I take the package from Max, and open it up to take a peak. A familiar smell wafts out from inside the package, and I am immediately reminded of home. “Ohh, it's braised cloud sea shark! Auntie Corinne knows how much I love it, I’ll have to dig in later. Thanks so much Max! Can I count on you to get the transfer done?”
“Of course, Rex. Stay safe! I expect to see you back here, safe and sound.”
“Haha, I expect you to hold me to it. Thanks, Max!”
“ Alright, I got the accessory I needed, and I’m all sorted for food. ” I think, “I should get an Inn for the night, get some good rest in a real bed before the big job. I doubt Gramps is too happy with me right now, so I should avoid the scolding.”
I’ve rested at Lemour Inn multiple times, usually to celebrate a big find or job, so I find it fairly easily. I speak to Utoto at the front desk.
“Welcome to Lemour Inn! Rest-place of all travelers!”
“I’d like to rest up a bit”
“Of Course! We has rooms free!”
I choose to rest for the night, and have some of the best sleep I had in months. I somehow manage to feel stronger by morning.
“ Alright, that’s plenty of rest. It’s time to head to the meet up point, they’ll be waiting for me.
Notes:
What do you guys think? Should I change things about how I write?
Also, I've been thinking, what non-story blades would you guys like to see in this story? I do not want to add too many, lest it become unmanageable, but if there are some rare blades you would like to see, tell me! I would personally like to add Corvin, but I'll take requests!
Chapter 5: The Sunken Ship
Summary:
Rex and Torna interact on the Maelstrom, and salvage the sunken ship from the bottom of the Cloud Sea. Rex learns how Drivers fight, and uncovers an inconsistency in Mythra's power. Rex makes a fatal error when he comes across the Aegis.
Notes:
Here's by far the longest chapter yet, and the one with the most original content! I spent a lot of time writing it, and I was a bit worn out by the end, but I'll come back and edit it if it's bad lol.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Sunken Ship:
I leave the main building of Argentum Trade Guild, and step on to the Goldmouth Exit Dock. As I approach the meetup point, I notice what ship they have prepared for the job.
“They’re using the Maelstrom for this job? That’s Argentum’s biggest and best ship, Bana sure has deep pockets ....”
“Gawking at a ship, are we now..?” I hear a familiar voice from behind me say.
I turn around to see Nia, snickering at my awe, “What are you, twelve? Oh wait, maybe you are twelve..”
“What’s my age got to do with anything?” I defend, “I know a masterpiece of engineering when I see one!”
Nia manages to smirk even more, “If you open your mouth any wider, you’ll swallow a fly.”
“What’s her problem? We’re about the same age…” I look down at my feet, and notice where Nia is standing, with one of her feet in a loop of rope. “Also, you might want to watch where you stand, that rope will take your leg off.” I say, trying to suppress a smirk
“Wheh!?” Nia leaps backwards, hissing at the rope like a cat
I let myself burst into a fit of laughter, “Gotcha!”
“Why you little-”
“Now whose mouth is hangin open,” I tease,
As Nia and I bicker, Spraine, the head of the salvager group on the ship, gets my attention. “Rex, we’re heading off. There’s no one seeing you off, right? Till then, rest up inside.”
“Aye-Aye! Later!”
Inside the maelstrom, I ponder my next actions. “ There’s still time until my watch shift, maybe I should talk to the clients? I need to see Monell right before my shift starts, though, he won’t be happy if I am late.”
To pass the time, I decide to speak to the clients. The first ones I find end up being Nia and Dromarch.
“You seem awful quiet, you get seasick or somethin?”
“Course’ I’m not seasick!” Nia yells defensively, but she quiets down quickly, “I’m just not used to being on a ship with this many salvagers…”
“Well, if they’re wearing you out this soon, you’ll be a wreck by the time we arrive,” I tease
“I can handle myself, alright!!”
To avoid further discussion with Nia, I chose to talk to Dromarch. He bows, or whatever passes as a bow from a massive tiger, and greets me respectfully, a contrast to his hotheaded Driver. “Master Rex, are you prepared to begin salvaging? Do not wear yourself out before the job has even begun. Let’s work together to ensure that this job is a success.”
“Of course! I’ll make sure that I am prepared, don’t worry. I’m counting on you.”
I wave goodbye to Dromarch, and continue familiarizing myself with the interior of the Maelstrom. I’ve never considered myself to be a “boat lover”, but the Maelstrom is giving me an appreciation for engineering. There are things that amaze me every time I lay my eyes on it, even from the outside, but being on the inside is another matter entirely.
Before long, I end up running into another crewmate. The Swordsman, Jin.
“Hi there! Happy to be working with you.” I say, trying to sound cheery
“...You are from Leftheria, aren’t you?
“Sure am. Was raised in Fonsett Village. The village is right by the Cloud Sea, so I grew up swimming in the clouds. That’s why salvaging comes so naturally to me. I’m pretty confident in my skills, despite how I look.”
“Very good.”
Sensing that he did not want to talk anymore, I decide to cut the conversation short,
Despite the fact that every part of the ship found ways to surprise me, walking around a ship can only entertain your mind for so long. I decide to find the final pair, Mythra and Phantylia, despite the fact that I was dreading the interaction a bit.
Phantylia notices my presence before I notice hers. Before they even enter my field of vision, my mind lights up with a greeting.
“ Blue boy. You’ve finally found us. ” I turn around a corner, and see the women standing next to each other, looking over the Maelstrom’s railing.
“I have a name, you know. It’s Rex, you don’t want me to be calling you Butterfly Girl, eh?”
Instead of Phantylia, Mythra responds to me, “Huh, Phantylia’s deemed you worthy enough to speak with, dear? How interesting. It takes an intriguing person to gain her attention.”
This time, Mythra’s long hair is collected in a high ponytail. She's wearing the same, black and white patterned dress with black tights and gold and emerald accents, but yet, her chestplate stands out again. It seems out of place, as it doesn’t match the design of the rest of her clothing. While the rest of her clothes are black and white, with gold and emerald scattered throughout, the chestplate is a flat gray. With further scrutiny, I realize it’s the same style as Jin’s.
Phantylia speaks, but this time, it’s different. I can tell that she is speaking to both me and Mythra, rather than a closed connection between me and her. “ Ehehe, she’s not wrong. I’ve never even spoken with Dromarch, he’s too boring. ” Her eyes narrow, and a mischievous grin develops on her face.
“Huh, well, I’m glad that we can communicate, at the very least.” I say, trying to come across as earnest, “I mainly just came by to introduce myself, I thought our previous interaction was focused on the job, so I just wanted to say hello.”
Mythra smiles again, but just as before, it does not reach her eyes. Her eyes are keen, calculating. It feels like she's determining the value of my soul, it’s unnerving, like she can see through me.
“Well, dear, it is nice to speak with you in a more casual manner. You certainly intrigued me, being able to deflect my attack. Most people cannot manage to make it out of that situation unharmed, it takes a certain skill set to be able to redirect a scythe. Perhaps you will be worthy of this family.”
“A-aha…. You flatter me..”I laugh nervously, “You keep mentioning this ‘family’, what do you mean by that….?”
She smiles, her eyes cooperating this time, and looks directly in my eyes, “You’ll see, if you ever make it to that point, dear. We’ll just have to wait and see.” When she speaks these words, the emerald accents of her attire seem to glimmer.
“A-ah okay, I hope that we can get along in the future.” I say hesitantly, “Um, one more thing, I’m sorry if it’s rude, but your chestplate keeps grabbing my attention. It looks like Jin’s, but it doesn’t look like the rest of your clothing. Is it a design philosophy for your group, or something like that..?”
Her eyes darken a bit, but she makes a clear effort to flatten her expression. “Ah, it’s not that, it just covers an old battle scar. I just want to give it some extra, you know, protection. I have not yet had a chance to find armor that suits my attire. Jin gave me a substitute to use until then.”
“O-oh, okay, I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories. Thank you for entertaining my curiosity, but Monell will be expecting me soon. He won’t be happy if I’m late.”
“Alright, dear. Do be careful,” She levels her gaze at me, “Someone less understanding than I would not take such prying so kindly.”
“Um, okay, thank you.” I wave, and climb the stairs that lead to the lookout point.
Once I reach the top of the stairs, I see Monell.
“Huh. You’re early, Rex. Usually people are not so eager to start their lookout shifts.” He says, seeming a bit confused.
“A-aha, yeah, I may have used my lookout duty to get out of an awkward conversation…”
“Oh well, it’s none of my business. I can finally get a breather, think I’ve earned myself a drink or two. Come and get me if anything crazy happens, I won’t drink myself to the point of incompetence.”
“Alright, you go do that. I think I’ll be able to take care of myself here.”
Monell leaves, and I take the chance to familiarize myself with my surroundings. The lookout has a pair of binoculars, and a small seat to sit on.
In the distance, I notice a small, black ship trailing the Maelstrom.
“Hmm, didn’t I see that ship back in the port at Argentum? It was next to the Maelstrom… I don’t think it’s a cause for concern.”
A voice behind me says, “Ugh, it’s way too cold up here…”
I turn around to see Nia, rubbing her arms to warm herself up.
“It’s you…”
“I have a name you know, it’s Nia. They’ve started boozin’ below decks, you should join em’.”
“Why aren’t you there?” I ask,
“It’s not that I hate it,” Nia looks off to the side, avoiding my gaze, “I just don’t need a headache right now, that’s all.”
“Huh. Good thing you’re not a salvager then.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s a rule in the salvagers code. ‘Swim like a fish, and drink like one too’”
“Ugh, sounds terrible. Don’t think I will be changing careers.”
“Hm. Probably for the best”, I say, “You drivers probably make a hell of a lot more cash than salvagers do!”
Nia looks at the clouds beneath us pensively, “So, kid…”
“My name’s Rex”,
“Hmmph, okay, Rex. Why did you start salvaging in the first place?”
I look forward, gazing at the massive structure in the center of the world.
“That there,” I say, pointing at it
“The World Tree? I don’t get it…”
“You know, you find all sorts of things digging through salvage. Some of it trash, some of it treasure... but all of it from people long gone. Have you noticed how there's fewer Titans each day? I saw one go under just the other day. It was a pretty big one.” I look down, trying to keep myself from getting too emotional, “There must have been loads of animals still living on it… Living space is running out day by day. Sooner or later, we'll be the ones sinking down into the Cloud Sea. But up there... Elysium is waiting for us.”
Nia looks at me, and starts giggling uncontrollably. “Pff... Bwahahahaha! Seriously, kid? "Elysium"? Don't tell me you believe that guff! It's just a lie for children, and that there is just an overgrown shrub!” She manages to control her laughter, “So that's, uh...why you're a salvager?”
“If there is a way to get up there, “ I say, looking to the highest branches of The World Tree, and then looking to its base in the clouds, “Maybe it’s hidden below the clouds. Is it really that crazy?”
“Seriously, though…”
“There'd be no need to fight over dwindling land and resources… No need to worry about our homes sinking away… Everyone could have peace and security. I mean, a dream like that... Isn't that worth believing in?”
“No one can tell you what to believe, but…” she hesitates, as if considering what to say, “Hmm, everyone, you say…”
“What?”
“I’ve always thought people were pretty selfish by nature, but you…
“Huh?”
“D’you have parents?”
“Nah. Gramps said they died when I was young, so I don’t remember them..”
“‘Gramps’... Oh, the one you said taught you how to use arts?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. He basically raised me himself. He’s not like us, though.”
“Not like…?” she hesitates, “I’m not sure I catch your drift, but this Gramps of yours seems alright.” She thinks on for a moment, and then continues, “And you’re alright too, kid. Not too different than me..”
The alarm sounds, signaling that it is time to begin our tasks. We gather in the center of the Maelstrom, and Spraine begins to debrief us on the details of our mission.
“Your target is located inside a shipwreck 450 peds straight down. Searching the wreck while submerged is too high-risk for our tastes, so… we'll be using flotation devices and cranes to lift the hull first. Next, you'll split into teams and explore the interior. Once the target is found, retrieval can commence. If that's clear, let's begin with attaching the floats. Get into position!”
Nia yells from above deck, “We’re paying you lowlifes a lot, so don’t screw it up!”
“Smug little so-and-so…” I grumble to myself
I walk to the end of the pier, and jump into the Cloud Sea.
Underneath the clouds, vision is difficult. As I descend through the clouds, I see our target. A massive, sprawling battleship.
“It’s absolutely massive…” I notice something on the edge of the ship, “Is that the propulsion mechanism? I’ve never seen one in that shape before, what country made this?”
The crew works like a well oiled machine. Attaching balloons, cranes, and every other tool imaginable to bring this massive ship to the surface. As the ship rises, Mythra and Nia, react to it while watching safely on the Maelstrom
“Whoa, that’s massive!” Nia says, surprised
“Good, it matches our reports. But, it’s what is on the inside that matters…”
After the ship has surfaced, all of the salvagers meet back on the Maelstrom.
Spraine yells, “Object is secure. Proceed to second phase.”
Nia runs to me, actually seeming impressed, “Excellent work! You’re not half bad, you know!”
I respond, swelling with pride, “I do this for a living, remember?”
Spraine yells from the side, “All teams, proceed inside with caution!”
Mythra looks at Nia, “Alright, dear. It’s time to get moving.
As I wave goodbye, wishing them luck, I hear a voice from my side,
Jin says, “You. With us.”
“Me?” I respond incredulously,
“You’re gonna drag the kid along, seriously?” Nia says, seeming just as surprised as I am.
Mythra snickers, “Guess he doesn’t want you to be the only one, dear”
“Hey!!” Nia and I yell in unison, Mythra laughing
Standing on the boardwalk of the ship, there is a large set of double doors, leading to belowdecks. A group of salvagers try to pry the doors open, and a massive force breaks the doors open from the inside. As the salvagers scramble away, trying their best to not be hit by the force racing outward, I am able to identify it as a Lethal Lysaat King, a larger variety of Lysaat which must have made the inside of the ship its domain.
Nia races forward, looking back at me to say, “Let me show you what drivers can do!”
Seeing drivers fight is a marvel. Mythra and Nia move in ways I did not think to be possible. In battle, the Driver holds the weapon, with the Blade standing back and supporting their driver with a stream of light known as an Affinity Link. As the fight goes on, the stream of light gets brighter, and the power granted to the Driver’s weapons grows stronger.
As I race to the back of the Lysaat King, I strike the monster with Arts. The Lysaat whirls around, striking me, sending me flying backwards. But, just as the pain registers, it vanishes.
I look to the side, seeing Nia whirling her twin rings in the air, surrounded by green light.
“Whuh- A healing Art??” I blubber, trying to keep focus
“Keep your jaw attached to your head, kid! Focus on the enemy in front of you!” Nia yells,
I notice Nia use an art which staggers the enemy, breaking its stance. “Break!” Nia yells at Mythra.
Immediately after, Mythra sweeps the underside of the Lysaat with the dull edge of her scythe, knocking it to the ground. “Topple!” Mythra yells back.
Taking the opportunity, all three of us strike at once. The Lysaat screeches with a deathly howl, and collapses, crumbling to dust.
“Wow, that was amazing. What was that move you used, Nia? What did you call it, ‘Break’?”
“Aha, do you really not know about the Driver Combo, Rex? ‘Break’ wasn’t the art itself, but the effect of the Art I used. It’s a combo that drivers can use, although Jin can use it too, despite not being a driver himself. We use it to immobilize enemies, and make them easier to kill. It’s an important skill to have, if you ever become a Driver, anyway.” Nia explains.
“Huh. Drivers really are amazing…” I say “I’m sure glad you are on my side, Nia. You as well, Dromarch!”
“It is an honor for me as well, Master Rex. You handle yourself well, for someone without the assistance of a blade.” Dromarch remarks
“No need to get hysterical, Rex. It was a walk in the park.”
“But still..”
“That’s enough chatting, kids.” Mythra says, “We need to get moving, if we're ever going to make progress.”
As we descend through the ship, we find that it is infested with all kinds of different monsters. Crustips, Lysaats, Medooz, any aquatic monster you could think of makes its home down here.
In the depths of the ship, we come across a console that is intended to open up a massive door at the end of the room. I press the button on the console, hoping that it still has the power to open it. The door doesn’t budge.
“No juice…” I sigh.
“ Hehe, this is where I step in, Blue Boy”
Phantylia floats forward, and places a single finger on an ether intake area, where an ether cylinder would be placed normally. The console begins to glow, and I press the button to open the door.
“Phantylia, how did you do that? It’s like you could control the ether in the air?”
I say surprisedly
“ You’ve got that right. I can’t control it as well as Obrona, but I can at least control where it flows.” Phantylia says with pride
“Who’s Obrona?”
“A blade. Our ally, Akhos, is her Driver. She has immaculate ether control” Jin says from the back of the group
I jump, “Jeez, Jin, I forgot you were there. You’re easy to miss, with how quiet you are.”
“That’s my intention. I only get involved where it is necessary.” He responds coldly,
“Eh, I suppose that’s fair.” I reply, choosing to trust his judgement
As we walk through the door opened by the console, I notice something at the back of the room. Before I can react, it rushes toward me, knocking me off my feet. As it enters the light, I see what it is. A massive Aligo, a monster with two muscular front legs, a sharklike head, and a massive fin on its end.
Mythra, Nia, and Jin rush into battle while I regain my footing. Nia races towards the Aligo, and breaks its stance. Mythra sweeps the Aligo’s feet out from under it, and topples it. From the back, Jin strikes the enemy, causing it to roar with rage.
The Aligo regains its footing, and begins charging at Jin. Before it can reach Jin, Mythra leaps into the air, and points the end of her scythe at the enemy. Arcs of light race outward from the edge of the scythe, and detonate when they make contact with the monster.
The Aligo flies backwards, and crashes into the wall with a massive crash. The monster collapses into a pile of dust.
“ That light…. It was way more than Phantylia’s lightning. “ I think
I run forward, catching Mythra’s attention. “Mythra! What was that last attack? I thought Phantylia’s element was Lightning? But that looked like pure light?”
“It must have been your eyes deceiving you. It couldn’t have been light. You must have had a weird angle on the lightning’s arc” Mythra says almost defensively. While usually, Mythra seemed bright and somewhat cheerful, her demeanor changed. Her eyes no longer sparkled as they did above deck, they just looked dull and stern. “I thought I warned you, don’t pry where it isn’t necessary”.
“O-uh, okay, I’m sorry” I say, startled of her sudden shift in personality
We walk to the end of the room, and see a massive door with a circular crest emblazoned upon it.
As we get closer, Mythra says, “Jin, look at this. Addams Crest.”
“Addams… Crest?” I say, curiously
“You. Kid. Open this door” Jin says from beside me
“Me?” I say, surprised at the attention
“This door will only open to one of you people” Jin replies sternly.
“One of me? What do you mean?”
“I’m getting really tired of the constant questions, kid! Just open the damn door!” Mythra yells
I flinch, “What the hell..? You can’t treat hired hands like that…”
I step forward, and investigate the door. I find a circular lever on the front, and press it. The emblem on the door glows with a bright blue light, and opens.
“Ah, so that was the release toggle!” I say, and step through the doorway.
On the other end of the door is a hallway, and at the end of the hallway is a door similar to the one I just opened.
“There. Open that door too.”
I nod, and open the door.
The door opens, and Jin says “Let’s move.”
When we enter the room at the other end of the door, I feel compelled to move forward. In the center of the room, Is a pedestal with a sword sticking out of it. The blade is long and thin, and dark blue in color. Its hilt is squared off, with a massive, bright purple cross-shaped crystal embedded in it. Behind the sword, is a glass case.
“Is that… a man?” I say, astounded
In the glass case is a tall, blue haired man with a half mask on his forehead. He's wearing Dark, purplish-blue armor that looks a lot like Jin’s? In fact, the mask and sword are reminiscent of Jin’s, to an almost uncanny degree.
In the back of the room, Mythra and Jin are talking.
“Look, it’s him” Mythra says quietly
“Yes, no mistaking it. That’s the Aegis.”
As I continue to walk forward, I call back to Jin, “Jin! This sword, it looks a lot like yours!” I lean forward, trying to touch the brilliant purple crystal that continues to shine at the sword’s hit.
“Hey! Kid! Don’t you dare touch that!” Mythra screams,
Before I can stop myself, my finger comes into contact with the purple crystal, and bright, purple light erupts in a short burst from the sword.
Before I can turn around to apologize, a blindingly cold pain erupts from my chest. I look down to see the edge of a sword pointing through my heart.
“B-but, why?”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s an act of mercy”, a voice from behind me offers, “At least you won’t be alive to see what’s coming”
He removes the sword from my chest, and I collapse on the ground. The last thing I see before my vision goes black is Jin flicking my blood from his blade.
Notes:
Like I asked in the previous chapter, what rare blades do you want to see in the future? Let me know!
Chapter 6: Resonance of the Hearts
Summary:
Nia reflects on her choices, regretting her choices for the first time.
Rex awakens in Elysium, and chooses life, for everyone.
Notes:
Heya! I'm back with a shorter chapter this time. I just felt like writing a bit more, but I wasn't up for a massive chapter like last time. Please enjoy Typhos' introduction!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Resonance of the Hearts:
[NIA]
As I walk into the room, three things grab my attention. The blue sword, the man in the glass case, and Jin standing in front of Rex’s corpse.
I gasp, not wanting to believe what I am seeing. “Jin!” I run up to Rex, shaking him, trying to wake him up, despite knowing it’s futile, “Why’d you have to kill him? Why!? What did Rex ever do to you?”
Jin looks at me blankly. His cold, flat eyes examining me. He says nothing.
I look down at the innocent, dead kid in front of me. For the first time since I joined Torna, I hesitate. As much as we bickered, I truly liked Rex. He always seemed to put others first, dreaming for the future, rather than the present. My chest begins to hurt, as if the source of my agony knows that I could be doing something. Should be doing something.
Mythra calls from behind me, rousing me from my thoughts, “Nia. there’s no time for mourning, he just didn’t make the cut. Call the Monoceros, we’re shipping out.”
Dromarch nuzzles me warmly, and helps me rise to my feet. I look back at Rex, trying to keep tears from forming in my eyes as I make the call.
[???]
The bell rings, indicating the passage of time. If it weren’t for its toll, it would almost seem that time has frozen still. In this awful, beautiful memory, nothing changes. Such is the law of memories. No matter how long you reflect on the past, there is no way to change it.
My brother has ceased speaking with me. It is hard to tell how long it has been since I have last heard his voice. Days? Months? Years? It is all but impossible to judge the passage of time here. The only thing I know, what I know we both agree on…
The time of our awakening approaches.
I sit next to the tree, analyzing the information I gathered when the boy came into contact with my core. Such is the duty of an Aegis, especially the Aegis of the End. It has been many years since I have analyzed the data of another being. It is exhilarating, to gaze upon something new.
“Rex… So this is who ‘our’ fate hinges upon…”
[REX]
As I gain consciousness, the first thing I notice is the warmth. Surrounding me, embracing me, is a constant heat, radiating from all around me. It’s comforting, enough to make you wish you could maintain the feeling forever. As I stand, I take note of my surroundings.
I am standing in a field, with grass surrounding me, stretching farther than my eyes can see. There is the consistent ringing of a bell in the distance, with the only other noticeable sound being the birds chirping in the distance. In front of me, at the top of a hill, is a singular tree. Beside it is a man, sitting on the ground, gazing into the distance.
I climb the hill, and attempt to get the man’s attention, “A-ah, excuse me…”
Without turning to face me, the man responds, “It’s such a melancholy sound…”
I hesitate, not knowing how to respond.
“It’s rang continuously, throughout all these years…”
“Continuously… you mean that bell sound? Is the praetorium nearby…?” I say, looking around us, unable to place our location. “Uh, where are we?”
“This is…. Elysium. The land where, long ago, mankind lived in harmony with their creator. It’s where…. ‘we’ were born.”
I step forward, not believing what I am hearing. When I make it to the man’s side, he shifts his gaze to face me.
He is wearing plated, blueish purple plate armor, and has long, blue hair cascading down his back. He wears a sharp, angular mask with horns that branch outward. The mask sits on his head like a crown, not reaching below his eyes. On his chest, lies a brilliant, cross shaped purple crystal.
“Is that… a core crystal? You’re a Blade?”
The man gazes solemnly at me, seeming almost sad. “My name is Typhos.”
“O-oh right, my name is-”
The man smiles, if only slightly. “Don’t worry, I know. It’s Rex, isn’t it?”
“How did you know my name?” I ask, my confusion growing.
The man rises to his feet, standing considerably taller than I.
“Just now, when you touched the sword…”
“Just now..?” I say, having a hard time recalling my recent experiences, “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember how I got here…”
“You were… killed. Stabbed through the heart by Jin…” Typhos says, hesitantly. He looks off to the side, as if hesitant to look me in the eyes.
I slam my hands on my chest, expecting to feel a steady, constant heartbeat. My chest begins to radiate a bone chilling, penetrating cold as I realize the cause for my constant warmth. My body has gone cold, my skin gone gray with the lack of blood flow.
I fall to my knees, nauseous from the sudden realization. “I-I remember now… that bastard stabbed me! Stabbed me through the back!” I slam my fists on the ground, angry at my failure, disappointed in myself, knowing who I’d be leaving behind. “Dammit! I need to warn them, everyone at the guild is in danger!” I realize the impossibility of my situation. “Shit, I can’t do anything if I’m dead! Titans foot! If I wasn’t dead, I’d kick that guy’s ass!”
I fight back the tears that begin to grow in my eyes, “Gramps… Oh god… What will he do when I don’t return? Auntie Corrine, the kids…”
Typhos looks down at me sympathetically, leans down, and places a hand on my shoulder. “Rex, I might be able to help.”
I look up, having a hard time believing him.
“It won’t be easy. It would be easier to just accept death now, but I have a feeling that isn’t what you want.”
I shake my head, wishing with all that remains of my heart that I could have a second chance. “What do I need to do?”
“If you were to take me to Elysium, in exchange, I can bring you back.”
“Elysium? But, isn’t that where we are?”
He shakes his head, “No. This is just a memory. An ancient, half forgotten memory of what once was. I need you to take me to the real place, at the top of the World Tree.”
“A memory? So like, an illusion? And, bring me back? What would that entail?” I ask, trying to get hold of the situation.
“I will give you half of my life force, a shard of my core.” he says, tapping on the core in his chest, “So that you may be revived, as my Driver. The Driver of the Aegis.”
“T-the Driver of the Aegis??” I take a step back, hesitating at the thought.
“What will you do, Rex? The journey won’t be easy, but it can be your second chance.”
I look around, taking in the beautiful surroundings. It’s everything I had ever hoped for. An infinite space, where everyone I love could live happily…
“Is this place really your home?”
“It is.”
“And it really exists?”
“Rex, what you are thinking is correct. By coming to this place, you could not only save yourself, but the entire world. Save it from the slow demise that is its fate.”
I look around one final time, and make my decision. “I’ll do it. I’ll take you to Elysium myself, I swear it. Let’s do it, together.”
Typhos removes the mask from his head, and hangs it from the side of his hip. His hair, unrestrained, falls to embrace his face. He smiles, “Thank you, Rex.” He extends his arms by his sides, and the Core Crystal in his chest begins to pulse, radiating bright, purple light. “To finalize our choice, place your hand on my chest.”
I hesitate, “H-huh? Uh, if you’re sure..”
I reach out to touch the brilliant, purple Core, as I did before with the sword. While last time, the choice ended in death, this time, it will result in life, for all of us.
Light radiates around us, and the warmth surrounding me fades. From inside, I feel the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.
Notes:
I tried out a POV switch in this chapter, as I felt like in a game like this one, it may be beneficial to try swapping POV's occasionally, as I've already had to skip some Bana shenanigans, as I did not know how to implement them. This way, I can round out the story a bit more. Did I handle it well? Or should I change something?
Now that we are at the point of Typhos being introduced, I just wanted to let my readers know some things.
I have never written an original character before. I have put a lot of thought into Typhos, but I remain nervous at the intricacies of his character, and how he will interact with the other, pre established characters in the game.
As the story goes on, I would love for it to become community driven. I'd love to hear ideas for character interactions, silly headcanons, or whatever else my readers may think would be a fun idea. I have some ideas for major plot beats, relating to Pyra especially (Gonna have to wait until the in-game equivalent of chapter 3 for that ;) ), but if anyone has any ideas or concepts they would like to offer, feel free to DM me on twitter @Kiri945, or just leave a comment. I'm having a lot of fun with this, and I hope that you guys enjoy reading it. Thank you so much for any help I have been given in the past, and what I may be offered in the future!
Chapter 7: Crossroads of Fate
Summary:
Rex and Typhos awaken, and fight back against Mythra.
The surface level of Typhos' ability comes to light, and Mythra seems to strike a nerve within him.
Notes:
Here we are! We're finally at the end of chapter 1 of the games content. I feel like Typhos really had a chance to shine, here. I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Crossroads of Destiny:
[NIA]
After I called the Monoceros, my doubts continued to rise. “ Is this the right choice?Is this what I really want from my life? ”
We leave Rex behind in the Aegis’ chamber. I want to give him a proper burial, at least take him back to his Gramps, but I know that Mythra would never allow that. I cannot let my feelings cloud my judgement.
Mythra’s strength defies her small frame. She hoists the Aegis’ coffin on her shoulders, and carries it above deck.
When we make it above deck, without turning to face me, Mythra orders, “Nia, end them,” nodding her heads at the salvagers on the deck.
Her order shakes me out of my stupor. “H-huh? End them? Like how” I say, not wanting to understand what she was asking of me, as if me feigning ignorance will prevent what she wants.
“The price for their lives has already been paid in full. The less people know about this family, the better.”
“I-I can’t do that! These are innocent people, they haven’t done anything wrong!”
The light in Mythra’s eyes fades. She glares at me, spurring fear like I have never known before. “I don’t understand you, have you forgotten the conditions for you to stay with us, Nia!?”
“N-no, but-”
“Dammit, you idiotic child! Whatever, I’ll just do it myself.”
I try to close my eyes, hoping to be able to avoid seeing what is about to happen.
Before I can avert my gaze, the coffin in Mythra’s hands expands outwards, exploding in a rush of light.
[REX]
When I awaken, my body is floating upwards. It shifts to place me on my feet, and an unbelievable strength fills my body, and I thrust my hand outward. A crystal the same shape as Typhos’ core crystal appears in my hands. The crystal shines brightly, and the sword from before shapes around it, filling my body with an incredible might. Around the blade, a smoky, blueish-purple energy forms, indicating the flow of ether through it.
I thrust the blade upward, launching a wave of energy upwards. It looks like water, but it feels wrong. It emanates darkness, as if the surrounding light from the crystalline lanterns are consumed by its flow. When the water meets the ceiling, it’s as if the water moves the metal out of the way. The metal isn’t destroyed, it merely bends and flows alongside the water, as if adhering to its will.
I leap upward with a strength I did not previously possess. I launch through the area cleared by the dark water, and land on the deck above it.
I look upwards at a pillar behind me, feeling a familiar presence. I notice Typhos standing upon it, though the inner part of his core is missing. I look down at my chest, and find the missing piece. ‘ So this is how he revived me…”
I hear Nia scream incredulously, “Rex!?”
I look forward, and meet Mythra’s eyes. She is smiling, almost uncannily wide. She breaks into a manic laugh, as if my presence was the most funny thing she had ever seen.
I locate Jin, and thrust Typhos’ sword in his direction. “Kind of low to stab a man in the back! And why the hell do you look so much like Typhos!”
Instead of responding himself, Mythra does. “Hahahahaha! Maybe you will make the cut, after all, you brilliantly annoying child!” She steadies her eyes at me, “And to answer your question, it’s because your little Aegis is a faker. That mask he adorns isn’t the only one he wears!”
“Faker? I don’t get what you mean. And either way, I have no interest in this family of yours! If you’re willing to stab me in the back, who else knows what you’d do!”
“Oh dear, what a shame.” Mythra coos, “I guess I’ll just have to pry that damned core from your chest!” Her eyes dim again, and she rushes forward, scythe in hand.
“Typhos! Cover me!” I yell backward, only hoping he could hear me.
He appears directly behind me, and nods. He thrusts his hand forwards, and a golden stream of light emanates from them. I rush forward, sword in one hand, and meet Mythras scythe as I did in the Chairman’s room. Only this time, the blade overpowers me, and slashes me across the chest. I scream, falling backwards.
Typhos rushes forward, and catches me from behind. I look up at him, and notice that he is wincing as well, as if he was struck like I was. “Are you okay, Rex?”
“Yeah, I’ll live. Were you hurt, too?”
“Yes, but no. I’ll explain later.”
Mythra teases us, “Oh, Rex, so you’re trying to mimic Jin now, too?”
I hesitate, before realizing that I had been holding Typhos’ sword in one hand, subconsciously mimicking how Jin holds his sword.
“Rex, just use the sword as you would use your junk sword. If you want to use the sword single handed, I can train you later, but we got hurt because you aren’t using the sword how you are used to. We need to make it through this!” Typhos explains sternly.
I adjust my hands accordingly, and hold it how I am used to. It’s not the same as my old sword, but I should be able to make it through. “Alright, Typhos. Let’s do this!”
Mythra and I rush forward, and clash our blades. With the strength that Typhos grants to me, I can match her strength, and I can do more than redirect the scythe.
As we hold each other off, Nia screams from behind Mythra. “Give it a rest, Mythra! Can’t you see that he’s just a child?!”
Mythra leaps backwards, and laughs in Nia’s direction. “A child? This ‘kid’ made himself the Aegis’ Driver!”
“The Aegis’… Driver?”
As we continue to fight, no one seems to make any ground. It’s all I can do to hold her off, but she can’t seem to make it past my defenses. She leaps backward, and tosses the scythe backward to Phantylia.
Blank faced, Phantylia floats upward, and thrusts the scythe towards the sky. Lightning begins to rain downwards from above, and I am unable to dodge.
Before the lightning strikes me, Typhos rushes to stand beside me, and thrusts his hands towards the sky. A crystalline barrier appears above us, and blocks the lightning before it can hit us.
“Thanks, Typhos!”
“Of course. We need to keep this momentum!” Typhos nods,
Throughout this confrontation, the Salvagers on the deck have been running around, doing their best to avoid the strikes of lightning, and the blasts from our attacks.
Phantylia continues to try and strike us with lightning, but Typhos blocks every attempt.
I run in front of Mythra, doing my best to extend the flow of ether emanating from the end of the sword, extending its range.
I slash the sword in Mythra’s direction. “Take this!”
Mythra leaps backwards, narrowly avoiding my extended range. Phantylia hesitates, as if trying to decide whether to come to Mythra’s defense, or to stay on the offensive.
“Go, now!” I scream at the salvagers on the deck. Those who still remained run backwards, trying to get off of the sunken ship.
Phantylia tosses the scythe back to Mythra, and she reels backwards, “I don’t think so, kid!”
She runs forward, trying to catch the salvagers before they can escape.
From beside me, Typhos whispers, “Rex, follow my lead.” I hand him the sword, and we run forward, trying to intercept Mythra before she can hurt the salvagers.
“Hey! You bully, over here!” I scream at Mythra,
As if startled by the childish insult, Mythra slows, and turns to face me.
Typhos offers me the end of the sword, and I grab it, both of us holding the sword’s handle.
We both leap upwards, a massive flow of water emanating from the swords’ blade.
“ Obliteration Blade!” We yell in unison,
Our sword connects with the pole of Mythra’s scythe, and she holds us upwards, holding our weight.
The unceasing flow of water diverts around Mythra, warping and distorting the metal of the ship behind her.
Mythra gazes into my eyes, looking disappointed. “Oh dear…. How can a little one like you… Oh, but your eyes…. I should have known from the beginning.”
She throws me off, and we continue fighting, her attention completely removed from the fleeing salvagers.
“I must say, for a fresh driver, you handle the Aegis well” She smirks “However…”
I charge at her, and she thrusts her hand to the side, an arrow of light forming in her palm. She forms a fist around the arrow, and when I reach her, she grabs the blade of our sword with one hand, and punches me with the light infused hand. She rips our sword from my hands, and throws it behind her.
“Urgh-” I fly backwards, slamming into the ground and rolling across the desk of the ship.
Typhos rushes behind Mythra, and picks up the sword she discarded. Before Typhos can reach Mythra, though, Phantylia launches a blast of lightning in his direction. Typhos, predicting the attack, launches a blade of water at her, connecting with the lightning midair. The water changes color, absorbing more light than before, and seems to consume the lightning when they come into contact. The water continues to flow in Phantylia’s direction, and collides with her.
Phantylia screams, her voice audible for the first time. She falls to the deck of the ship, her wings no longer shimmering, falling limp on top of her.
She reaches forward, trying to get Mythra’s attention. “M-my Ether… H-he took it!”
Typhos slowly walks around the aghast Mythra, and returns to my side, helping me to my feet. “My power is that of alteration. Just as my water flows, everything that it touches obeys my will. Of course, major changes, like the destruction of matter, are beyond my capability. But commanding matter to move? Or, at the height of my ability, commanding a Blade’s Ether to leave it? I can do that.” He says, unflinching. “Of course, this effect isn’t permanent. You’ll recover in about an hour, so you don’t need to worry.” He says, seeming to look down on Phantylia
Mythra’s emerald accessories begin to shimmer, as she screams in rage at Typhos. “You bitch! That’s impossible, even Mal-”
“Do not dare to mention my Brother, you witch!” Typhos screams, “For you are the one who forced both me and him into this state!” he continues to glare at Mythra, “All we wanted was to live happily with Addam and the others! You forced his hand!”
Mythra walks backwards, shaken at the sudden change in Typhos’ demeanor. As she picks up Phantylia, resting her upon her back, I hear a familiar voice.
[AZURDA]
In the depth of my being, I knew something was amiss. I fly as fast as my wings could carry me, to the place where I knew where my foolish child would have found himself. The place of Addam’s deepest regret.
“Rex!” I scream, when the resurfaced ship comes into my view. On the deck of the misshapen, warped ship, I notice many things.
Rex, my child, standing side by side with Addam’s Final Hope, Typhos. A girl, about Rex’s age, with short, silver hair, riding upon a great tiger, a Blade. A woman with long, golden hair, carrying a small, white haired woman with limp, translucent wings, and a tall, stoic man in silver armor.
“Jin… You still persist” I realize, solemn at the thought, “And is that.. Mythra!?”
Jin gazes up at me, seeming disappointed at my presence.
[REX]
"Gramps!" I yell, happy to see the familiar face,
When Gramps lays eyes on Jin, his face changes. He opens his mouth, and fire launches from it, directed solely at Mythra and Jin.
Jin, taking action for the first time since the fight started, draws his sword. He moves only slightly, and the balls of fire detonate mid air, as if sliced in two.
Typhos looks at me, and I notice that he is shaking, breathing harder than before, "Typhos? Are you okay?" I say, concerned for my newfound ally,
"A-aha, yeah... I'll be fine. I've never Ordered Ether before, and it took a lot more out of me than I was expecting."
As we talk, Gramps continues to rain fire on Jin, keeping him occupied.
Mythra is just standing there, looking at Phantylia, hanging on her shoulder. She seems shaken, her eyes wide.
A black ship pulls to the side of the boat, and a small door on its surface opens.
As I watch this happen, Dromarch runs to my side from across the boat, Nia riding on top of him, "Rex! This is bad, that's the Monoceros!"
I reply, not knowing what she means, "Uh, am I supposed to know what that is...?"
"It's our ship, with the rest of our crew within it." She says frantically, "If you don't get out of here now, you won't leave alive."
"Why are you helping me? I thought you were with them?"
"Because I don't like what they've been doing on this mission. Them stabbing you in the back was the final straw, I can't handle being with them."
“Nia, who is on the Monoceros that is making you so nervous?” Typhos asks,
“There’s no one specific, it’s just a rough crowd in general.” Nia winces
As we talk, a woman climbs from the door on the surface of the boat, followed by the oddest looking Blade I have ever seen.
The woman has long, immaculately straight jet black hair. She wears a white coat, and strung on her back is what seems to be a massive canon.
Her blade is a confusing, whitish gray, puppet-like being with four arms. In each hand is a weapon, A chroma katana, megalance, greataxe, and shield hammer in his hands, each a weapon normally wielded by individual blades. He wears red, tattered clothing.
The woman walks casually over to Mythra, and begins talking with her. They seem to be arguing, though it’s impossible to hear what they are talking about. The uncanny blade never takes his eyes off of us.
Nia hisses in disgust at the sight of the woman, “Patroka!” She looks at me, frantic at the sight of the woman, “Rex, you need to go! Patroka will chew you up and spit you out. Mythra’s been toying with you this entire time, you don’t stand a chance!”
The woman, Patroka, yells at Nia and Me over the ruckus, “Ooooh, Nia, helping the enemy now, are we?” She unstraps the canon from her back, and aims the canon in our direction.
Typhos steps in front of us, intending to redirect the blast, but from behind Patroka, Mythra screams, “Patroka! Don’t you dare kill them!” A mote of light appears by Patroka’s feet, and detonates, creating a startling, but generally harmless blast.
“What the hell, Mythra! They’re the enemy! She’s a traitor,” She says, pointing at Nia, “And he took the Aegis! They’re only in the way!”
“Yes, but the boy, he has potential. I want him.” She says, smiling uncannily, her eyes shining brighter than I had ever seen before.
“Oh dammit all, forget about the damned family for once! We have a job to do!”
As they bicker, Typhos gets my attention, “Rex, now’s our chance.” he turns to Nia, “Are you coming, Nia?”
Nia, despite seeming startled by the offer, nods, and we all run to the end of the ship. Gramps, seeing us, stops firing at Jin, and swoops down, passing alongside the ship, and we leap on. He flaps his wings, and we take off.
Mythra screams, still on the deck of the ship, launching orders at the Monoceros “Fire at the titan! Don’t even think about hurting the boy!”
Notes:
Any thoughts on Typhos and the new characters?
Any headcanons or ideas on how the characters should interact in the future? I'd love to hear any ideas that my readers may have!
Chapter 8: The Fate of a Titan
Summary:
Typhos discusses his choices with Gramps, and they crash land on Gormott.
Rex and Typhos say goodbye to Gramps, and get surprised at his sudden reappearance.
Notes:
Here's a shorter update! This time, it is mainly from Typhos' POV. Actually, for the first time, there is no Rex POV at all this time.
Of course, there is a sad moment, but I also had fun writing a silly moment between Rex, Gramps, and Typhos. I'm hoping to create a brotherly bond between Typhos and Rex, and I think them being silly is the best way to start that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Fate of a Titan:
[AZURDA]
Everything hurts. The holes in my wings, how the javelins in my side shift and dig deeper every time I move. But I must keep moving. Rex has fallen asleep, with me having talked him into the belief that nothing bad will happen. Addam’s Hope, though, will no longer keep quiet.
“Azurda. You need rest. You cannot keep this up, even with you being a child of Torna. A lesser Titan would be incapacitated by half of these wounds.”
“You needn’t worry about me, child. You have your own problems to worry about.” I say, attempting to sound confident, despite the fact that I know that I cannot come back from these wounds, not in this form, at least. “How is the girl and her blade?”
“About the same as Rex. Shaken, but otherwise sound. I hope that Rex made the correct choice when it comes to siding with them. I’ve known him for all of an hour, and I can already tell he’s kind to a fault. I hope that doesn’t turn around to stab him in the back. Not again.”
I chuckle. “You’ve got that right. What spurred you to choose him, anyway? I never thought that I would see you again, not after all these years.”
“If I had to guess, it would have to have been your influence, Azurda. First Addam, and now Rex, you seem to always have close ties to my Drivers. At first, I thought it was a necessity. Just the first ticket out of the ship. But now, I am glad to be bonded with Rex, he has a kind heart, and potential for greatness.”
“Even now, I see Addam within you. Though now, I notice other influences. Your appearance, it’s uncanny. Why Jin?”
Typhos hesitates, thinking upon the reason for his existence. “Make it through long enough to speak with my Brother, Azurda, and he will tell you. It is not my story to tell.”
Time passes, and my exhaustion, and agony, grows. It is taking all of the strength I have to keep us in the air, much less comfortable. In the distance I notice a gargantuan, quadrupedal titan. Our only hope.
“Azurda, it’s Gormott. You need to land there, you cannot handle anymore.” Typhos orders
“On that, we agree.” I wince,
I push my mangled wings to their limit, and push forward with all of the strength I can muster.
[TYPHOS]
As Azurda crashes into the side of Gormott, I take the only opportunity I have to grab Rex, and leap off of Azurda. We crash into the ground, and I roll into the edge of a tree, and black out.
When I gain consciousness, there's a throbbing, excruciating pain in my head.
“Owwwww- Damnit Azurda, I told you that you couldn’t handle anymore! There were several smaller titans we could have dropped on, without the crash landing part…”
I assess my surroundings. Rex is still unconscious beside me, having taken a hit on the tree as well. We are surrounded by life, trees and plants growing bountifully around us, with a massive scar where Azurda’s body dragged through.
“ So much for me protecting him and Rex from harm…”
I assess Rex’s injuries, but I cannot locate anything other than the occasional scratch and bruise. I suppose that if he was in mortal danger, I’d know, thanks to the unique way of our bonding. I decide to let him rest, despite me being worried about Azurda.
Rex stirs beside me, and sits up, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
“Oh, good, you’re up. Are you doing okay?” I ask,
“Mmph- Yeah, I guess.. Where are we?”
“A titan called Gormott. You must have heard of it, it’s where Azurda took us.” I reply,
“Ahh! Gramps, and Nia! Where are they!?”
I point at the scar in the landscape, “If I had to guess, that way. I tried to grab you and leap off, so that we could have a safer landing, but as you can see, it didn’t go well.” I rest my hand on my head, nursing the throbbing pain that continues.
Rex makes a sympathetic motion to his own head, as if only just now noticing the similar pain, “Owowowow…. We need to go help them, though! Who knows what could be happening!”
“Alright. Take it easy, Rex. Who knows what other injuries we could have that aren’t showing themselves.”
As we run through the clearing of the scar, we eventually come across its source.
Azurda, laying on his side, motes of light floating from his mighty body. Javelins litter his body, piercing his wings and puncturing many of his organs.
“It is good to see you uninjured, Rex..”
“Gramps!!” Rex screams, running to the side of his guardian.
“Azurda!! I warned you that you couldn’t handle more!” I yell, rushing to Rex’s side beside the Titan, “I’m no healer, but maybe if I use my water correctly, I could seal the wounds! Hang on!” Through our connection, I can feel Rex’s panic leaching into me
“Please, Typhos, we have to do something!”
Azurda laughs, “You boys are very kind, but there is nothing you could hope to do. I knew these wounds would do me in.”
“So, there’s nothing we can do?” Rex whines, tears appearing in his eyes
“Weep not, my boy. This is my fate.” Azurda says, doing his best to comfort Rex. “No parting is forever, my boy. We will meet again, when the flow of ether wills it.”
“Gramps!” Rex begins to cry openly. I don’t know how to respond, it’s all I can do to keep from crying myself.
Azurda’s body begins to glow, and disappears in a blinding flash of light.
Rex falls to his knees, bawling. I join him on the ground, putting my arm around his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry…” I say, not knowing how else to comfort him.
“Gramps!!” Rex cries,
rexxx!
“ H-huh?” I say, thinking I misheard something. Rex continues to weep.
Rexxx!!
“Okay, no, I definitely heard something there..” I think, not wanting to worry Rex, as he continues to sob.
“REEEEEXXXXX!!” A tiny voice from within the motes of light screams,
Rex stops crying, if only out of curiosity.
The light fades completely, and a small, white creature with big eyes, fluffy fur, a blue crystal shining in its chest, and with small pink wings becomes visible.
“HUH!?” Rex and I yell in unison
“Gramps…?” Rex says, seeming more curious than sad
“There’s no way…”
“See! Can’t you recognize me?” The small creature puffs out its chest, and places its tiny paws on its hips.
“No, not really…” I say, trying not to laugh at the sudden change
“I am so confused right now..” Rex says,
“ So you see, by maximizing cellular regeneration to retain all vital bodily functions...
I seem to have reverted to a larval stage.” Gramps begins to flap his wings, rising into the air.
“I don’t think those wings should work, old man. They’re way too small for that chubby body.” I stand, crossing my hands across my chest.
“I don’t think so either, Typhos. I think it's ridiculous, really.” Rex mimics my action, turning his head away in mock disgust from the now larval Azurda.
“So I’m ‘Old Man’ now, Typhos? Are you angry at me, boys?”
“Obviously, Gramps!” Rex and I yell in unison
Rex grabs Gramps and throws him in his salvaging helmet.
I laugh. “Ahahaha! Naughty old men get thrown in the time-out helmet”
Rex smiles, laughing alongside me.
Gramps smirks, puffing out his chest again, “You act as if this is a punishment. I think this is a nice change of pace.” Gramps looks down, noticing my core in Rex’s chest. “And is that a core crystal in your chest? What happened there?”
“I’ll tell you later, Gramps, we have other things to worry about.” Rex looks at me, rolling his eyes “Alright, now that we’ve got Mr. Baby Old-Man figured out, we need to go find Nia. I’m worried about her.”
I respond, “Yes, let’s. I can sense ether fluctuations in the distance, like a Driver using a blade in battle. Let’s hope that Nia can handle herself until we can make it to her.”
“Right, let’s go!”
Notes:
What did you think of Typhos in this chapter? Does he seem compelling?
What blades would you like to see in the future of this story? Again, I don't want to add a ton, *maybe* one extra blade per driver. Let me know who you'd like to see!
Chapter 9: Gormott
Summary:
Rex, Typhos, and Gramps reunite with Nia and Dromarch, and discuss their next steps.
Rex and Co. make it to Torigoth, and have an encounter with the Jewel of the Empire.
Notes:
I really feel like I am getting a hold on writing, I am writing things that I am proud of. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! This chapter is really long, so I hope you enjoy it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gormott:
As nice as it is to share a laugh with Typhos and Gramps, my heart races from Gramps’ supposed death. I was terrified, and despite my outward indifference towards his revival, I have never felt such relief before. I am desperate to help Nia, especially since she seems to be battling something, but I am absolutely exhausted.
Typhos notices my fatigue. “Are you doing okay, Rex? This hasn’t been easy on you.”
I force a smile and reply, “I’m alright. A bit worn out, but I can keep moving. We need to help Nia.”
Suddenly, Gramps pops up from behind me, still perched in my helmet, and smacks me on the back of the head.
“Gramps!”
“You’re too hard on yourself, boy! You’re pushing yourself again. It got you killed! Don’t think I don’t know what happened on that ship. Typhos told me everything!”
“I know, I know… but we can’t just leave her! She abandoned the life she had with Torna for our sake!”
“Gramps, I have to agree with Rex. I promise we’ll rest after we help Nia, but we can’t just stop now,” Typhos says.
Gramps crosses his arms. “Fine, but I am holding you to that!”
We push forward, with Typhos leading the way since he is the only one who can sense the ether.
As we walk, Typhos suddenly holds out his hand in front of me, stopping me.
“Typhos?” I ask.
“Look, over there.” He points ahead, and I see them—Nia, supported by a stream of light from Dromarch, fighting a massive… frog?
“We have to go help!” I exclaim.
“Alright, but I’m taking the sword. You need to take a backseat; you’re too tired.”
“Huh? You’re just as tired as I am! Let me help! We’re literally linked—your exhaustion is mine!”
Typhos hesitates, as if he has forgotten that fact. “Oh, uh, right. I suppose you need more experience with my sword anyway.”
Gramps leaps up from behind us. “Stop arguing! The girl needs help!”
“Right!” Typhos and I say in unison. I draw the sword from my back and charge in to support Nia.
“We’re here to help, Nia!” I yell.
“Rex?? What are you doing here?” she replies.
Dromarch shouts at Nia, “My lady, this is our chance to strike!”
“Right!” Nia yells back.
I turn to face the frog, which I now recognize as a monster called a Brog. It gulps, as if it realizes that it is in too deep.
Typhos, Nia, Dromarch, and I quickly dispatch the brog. We can’t Topple anything without Mythra, but we managed to get through it.
“So, why are you guys even here—ugh, I suppose that’s a stupid question, huh?”
“Indeed,” Dromarch nods.
“Seriously, though, it’s great to see you all. I was worried.”
“Right back at you. By the way, what happened to the big guy who bailed us out? The Titan?”
Gramps pops up from behind me, waving at Nia. “Talking about me?”
“What the—HUH?” Nia exclaims, astounded.
Typhos chimes in, placing his fingers on his temples, “It’s a long story; the old man scared the life out of us...”
Nia bursts into laughter, “Hahaha! That must have been quite a situation.”
“Understatement of the century…” I reply. “Let’s find somewhere to rest; I’ll tell you all about it then.”
We find a nice clearing, and we decide to set up camp. Typhos, despite being a Water Blade, is surprisingly good at starting campfires. We sit around the fire, and discuss the night's events.
“I see… So you guys are off to Elysium…Listen, I never thanked you, for saving us I mean. Dromarch said that you carried us all the way here.”
“We owe you our lives, master Titan,” Dromarch says, bowing his head to Gramps.
“No need to thank me. You offered support to Rex when he desperately needed it.”
“Don’t mention it. So, you titans can regenerate, that’s pretty handy.”
“You see, this isn’t something that just any titan can do. By maximizing-”
Typhos, standing behind Gramps, and having already heard this lecture, mocks him by imitating his bravado,
“Pfff- hahaha!” Nia starts laughing at Typhos
“You can stop, Gramps, no one is paying attention.” I say, trying to keep myself from laughing as well.
Gramps puts his paws on his waist, “Kids these days, no respect, I swear…”
[TYPHOS]
As night fell, despite my exhaustion, sleep evaded me. I rise from where I was laying, and walk to a small pond next to where we made camp. I sit down, hoping to be able to get some rest, even if I cannot sleep.
A voice from behind me says, “Still awake, I see?
I turn to see Gramps, who flies next to me.
“I can’t seem to sleep. I keep thinking about all the things that happened today.”
“I understand, a lot happened, after all” he says, looking into the water, “I just wanted to thank you for saving my dear Rex.”
“Of course, he’s a good guy, kind to a fault. Someone has to keep him out of trouble.”
“I must ask, your goal, is that truly what you want?”
“Of course, though I have one other goal, now..”
“Jin and Mythra, you mean”
“Yes. Jin has changed so much. He is not the person he used to be, not the same person Malos admired….”
“He certainly has. And you plan on getting Rex mixed up in this, as well?”
I hesitate, not knowing what to say. Before I can come up with something, Gramps continues. “I don’t blame you, Typhos. At this point, I think Rex would follow you to the ends of the world.”
He looks down, looking at where my core is missing it’s centerpiece. “You’ve taken on quite the burden as well…”
“I-”
“Promise to take care of Rex?”
“Of course, I intend to.”
[REX]
When I awaken, Typhos is still asleep beside me. Nia, though, is awake, preparing for the day’s journey.
“We should probably try and find a town, or something. Does anyone have any idea where we are?”
“This is Gormott, a province of the Ardanian Empire. You must have seen the Gormott Titan before?” Nia responds,
“Of course, but only from afar.”
“If I had to guess, we are around the Titan’s belly”
“Gormott, huh. Wait, Nia, your ears, are you Gormotti?”
“Well done, Genius. Took you long enough.”
“Gormott is the land of my lady’s birth.” Dromarch adds,
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“If we wanna find a town, the first step is to get out of this forest.
Keep heading up and we'll hit the plains soon. The town's that way.
“Brilliant,” I say as I shake Typhos awake, “Let’s get going, we don’t have time to waste!”
[REX]
We continue to walk forward, passing all kinds of creatures and places. The surroundings are beautiful, unlike anything I have ever seen. The place where I grew up, the Lefterian Archipelago, is prominently open air, and has many beaches, a more tropical area. I’ve never been in a forest, so I am amazed by many things that I see.
After walking for a while, we break the tree line, and come into a little outlook, with a drop that falls into a small pool. From this area, we have an amazing vantage point for the surrounding area of Gormott.
Typhos, standing beside me, says,”Wow, what an amazing view. My brother had been to Gormott before, but a lot has changed.”
This caught my attention, “Typhos, you keep mentioning your Brother. I thought Blades were born of Crystals, is it even possible for a Blade to have a sibling? And how would you know that it has changed, if you have never been here yourself”
Typhos hesitates, “Well, he’s not my brother in the traditional sense…. But I consider him to be my brother. I’ll tell you about him when the time arises, you’ll meet him eventually, I’m sure.”
Nia looks to the side, places her hand on her chest. She looks sad, depressed even.
“Nia, are you okay? Are you not happy to be here?” I ask
She perks up a bit, startled by my concern “U-uh, yeah! Don’t worry.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
We continue following the path, and the trees open up into a massive, sprawling plain, Animals roam around the area, and in the distance, I can see a town.
“Over there, that’s Torigoth, the biggest town in Gormott.” she says, pointing to the town, “I can accompany you until then, but I really should leave you after that. You don’t want to be seen with me….” She says while looking down at the side, seeming to regret past actions
“H-huh? Why? I don’t care what the others think, you’re with us now, you don’t need to fear anyone else.”
“Fear? Rex, they consider me to be a terrorist. If you’re seen with me, you’ll be assumed to be one too.”
“Nia, I don’t care. If I leave you behind now, I’m no better than Torna. You’re one of us.”
Typhos steps forward, “Nia, I get that you are concerned, but we can handle ourselves. If you’re worried about us, we should buy you a disguise or something. If you’re caught alone, you’ll stand no chance. At least if we’re together, we can put up a fight.”
“I-I….. Alright, I suppose there’s logic in that. I’ll stay with you for a while.” She says, avoiding eye contact.
“My lady, there is logic in purchasing a disguise. Perhaps we can find something in town?” Dromarch adds, trying to ease Nia.
“Alright, Dromarch, we can look.”
[NIA]
It hurts to be home. Rex and Typhos are kind—too kind—but that doesn’t change the unease I feel when I look at Torigoth. Typhos talking about his brother didn’t help.
“Blades having siblings... Sister, Da…” The sight of Torigoth only reminds me of the time I had with them; the time I spent running away, fleeing the army after they were gone.
When we arrive at Torigoth, Rex and Typhos seem amazed. They’re a lot alike, more than they realize. It’s not uncommon for a Blade to reflect their Driver, but Rex did not awaken Typhos—his personality was created long before Rex was even born. It’s one hell of a coincidence. They wear the same expression while looking around Torigoth, laughing like little schoolchildren at everything. It’s adorable.
“It hasn’t changed a bit…” I say, reflecting on Torigoth’s past.
“My lady?” Dromarch looks up at me, concerned for my well-being.
I pat his head, trying to ease his concern. “I’m okay, Dromarch. Can you keep an eye out for the military for me?”
“Of course, you need only ask.”
Rex glances back at me. “You know, Nia, you can rely on us, too. We’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Rex. I’ll try.”
His eyes tighten, his expression kind, and I can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.
“I’ll take you guys to the nearest inn, but if I’m going to stay with you, Dromarch and I should really try to find a disguise—” As I’m saying this, we come across a notice board filled with various postings, including wanted posters. One features a picture of Mythra, another of Jin, and one with my name that bears a horrifying likeness of a tiger wearing a wig.
“What the hell is this!?” I exclaim, drawing attention to the poster.
“A remarkable likeness, to be sure,” Dromarch comments. “It seems they’ve gotten our appearances crossed.”
I rip the poster off the board and shred it into pieces.
I glance to the side and see Rex with his hands over his mouth, trying his best to suppress a laugh.
“Rexxxx!” I yell as he bursts into laughter.
A loud commotion catches our attention, and we turn to the center of the plaza, where a large crowd has gathered around a single Ardainian soldier. The soldier is holding a Core Crystal and shouting to the onlookers.
“Fie! Who has the courage to heed the Empire's call?” he bellows, emphasizing his message. “Your strong heart today will build a strong Mor Ardain tomorrow! And of course, you’ll receive more than just a salary! Pension and benefits are included! Stand out and you could even join the nobility! For the glory of the Ardainian Empire and His Majesty, Emperor Niall! Come now! Who wants to be the hero of tomorrow?!”
“What’s that?” Rex asks, looking genuinely curious.
“Driver Recruitment,” I reply.
“Driver Recruitment?” he echoes.
“They’ve recently been recruiting drivers from all over,” I explain.
“The pool of potentials is ever-shrinking. They must have run out of candidates in the military,” Dromarch adds.
“Potentials? I’m not sure I understand,” Rex says.
“Just watch,” I say.
A young Gormotti boy steps forward, but three younger children cling to him, holding him back.
One of the children yells, “Don’t do it, bro! It’s too dangerous!”
Another chimes in, “What will we do if something happens to you? Who will take care of us?”
The youngest child simply pleads, “Please…”
Determined, the boy pushes past them, clearly intent on touching the Core Crystal. “I-I know it’s dangerous, but if I can become a driver…”
Before he can make contact, a larger man pushes him aside, knocking both him and his siblings to the ground.
“Outta the way, you pipsqueak!” the man shouts.
Before anyone can react, the man thrusts his arm forward, making contact with the Core Crystal.
A wave of light flows outward, and the man begins to scream.
“Yeah, he’s done for.” I say, already knowing what a successful awakening looks like.
“Indeed.” Dromarch concurs.
The light suddenly ceases, and the man flies backwards, landing on the ground.
Blood flows from his eyes and nose, and he wears a grimace. Ardainian soldiers pick him up from the ground, and carry him away.
The Ardainian soldier who offered the core yells to the crowd, “Aww, all bark and no bite! Anyone else want to give it a shot?”
“Eurgh, what just happened? All that blood…”
“He couldn’t handle the Core Crystal’s power, so it overwhelmed him.”
“That is what happens when someone unqualified touches a Core Crystal.” Dromarch says,
“Wait, you need a qualification to be a driver?” Rex says, seeming confused.
Gramps jumps up from behind his head, and says “Perhaps ‘Aptitude” would be a better word.”
The Ardainian soldier continues to shout, “Now, is there nobody else here ready to test their strength for the glory of the Empire?!”
He fixes his gaze on the boy from before and extends a hand. “Oh! How about you? What do you say? Step forward, sir, with a bold heart!”
The boy rises from the ground with the soldier's help, still accompanied by his siblings. “Don’t worry, kids. Your brother is going to be a Driver, and we’ll be set for life…”
He walks forward and places his hand on the Crystal. Like before, the light flows outward, but this time it feels different—warmer, kinder.
“There’s your ‘aptitude,’” I say with pride. The Core Crystal in the boy’s hand begins to float upward, and a Megalance sprouts from it. The light surrounding him condenses into a humanoid shape that kneels on the ground.
As the light fades, the shape becomes visible. It’s a woman with long, azure hair tied in a ponytail and dark skin. She wears a tiara and a short, form-fitting dress, with golden bangles looping around her shoulders.
The Blade rises to her feet and looks at her Driver. Noticing how the boy’s siblings cower behind him, she smiles warmly. She kneels again and offers her hand to the youngest boy. “I am Perun. You are loved by my Driver; you needn’t worry any longer. I shall care for you.”
The boy’s eyes widen, and a smile spreads across his face. “I—I did it!”
His siblings emerge from behind him and start cheering along with him.
“The Core Crystal turned into a... weapon?” Rex asks, still confused about the situation.
“That is how Blades are born, Rex,” Gramps responds.
“But when I touched Typhos’...” Rex trails off.
“He's a special case. Typhos is the Aegis, remember?” I remind Rex, pointing out something that should be obvious. “So the usual rules don’t apply. All that business with sharing his life force... it's not exactly normal.”
“Wait, what does ‘the Aegis’ even mean?” Rex asks, still puzzled.
Typhos jumps in, “It’s just a title that Blades of my caliber were given. Some called us ‘Gifts from the Architect’. It’s just a title for a supposedly ‘Legendary’ Blade.”
“Wait, ‘Us’? You mean there are others like you?” Rex asks,
“Yeah, I’ve only ever heard of you referred to as the Aegis.” I add,
Typhos hesitates, “Uh, well, it’s me and my Brother, and….”
“And?” I ask, getting impatient at his hesitance.
Instead of Typhos answering, Gramps does. “Mythra.”
[REX]
“Mythra!?” I yell, shocked at the revelation.
Typhos seems dour, looking at his own feet. “So, I suppose, if you squint, Mythra could be considered my Sister.” He says,
“A shitty sister, if you ask me..” I say, trying to make sense of it, “For all of her emphasis on that ‘Family’ of hers, she certainly doesn’t treat you well..”
“It’s alright, Rex. My brother and you guys are the only family I need.”
“Damn right!” I say, “You think highly of your brother, I hope I can meet him eventually.”
“I hope so as well. It just relies on him.”
“We’ve been sticking around here for a while, we should get out of here. I know a back way to the inn, so let’s go around the Plaza.” Nia says
“Lead the way!” I offer.
The back way is an alley that loops around the Plaza. While we walk, the conversation returns to the awakening.
“The whole thing with Core Crystals, touching them to make Blades… it’s amazing.”
Typhos adds, “We Blades start out formless, anchored to the world only by our Core Crystal. Only the touch of a potential can imbue us with form and being. And it is by those forms we come to be known.”
“So you see, my boy,” Gramps says, “It is the fated touch of a Driver that allows Blades to exist at all.”
“Why does it happen that way, though?”
“And that, is something that no one knows, my boy.”
“Blades come in all shapes. Some humanoid, some not.” Dromarch says,
“Some say that the shape is defined by what kind of person the Driver is.” Nia says, looking down at her own chest.
“Typhos…. He was so lonely when I met him… so quiet… It’s such a contrast to how he is now. Was he brought to life by someone else, like a normal blade, too?”
As I think about this, I hear a raspy voice from behind us yell, “Halt, nobody move!”
Three Ardainian soldiers appear behind us, and four more appear in front of us.
“Oh dear, looks like imperial troops…”
“Great, I told you guys to leave me behind!” Nia yells,
“No, Nia! I told you, we’re not leaving you!”
A soldier, wearing a larger helmet that sets him apart, steps forward. I assume he is the Captain of the group. “That fugitive in your company is an enemy of the state! A member of Torna!”
“No, you don’t understand! She’s not with them anymore. She’s different!” I shout, trying to defend her.
“That’s for the empire to decide. As for you… what is your driver registration number?”
“Uh, 5… 3… 9?”
“Knock it off! Every new driver must register with Indol! If you don’t have a number, that means you are an unregistered, illegal driver!” the Captain yells. “You’re coming with me! Let’s see what the Consul has to say about this!”
“Dromarch and I will fight them off, Rex! Save yourself!”
“Nia, get it through your head! I will NEVER leave you like this!”
“You stubborn little—ugh, oh well. You go left; I’ll go right. Now!”
Typhos and I charge to the left while Nia and Dromarch go to the right.
The Captain looks startled. “Wait, you’re actually going to resist?”
Despite their imperial bravado, the soldiers don’t put up much of a fight. I don’t want to kill them, so I don’t channel much ether into Typhos’ sword. We manage to push the soldiers back, and they become more frantic. “They’re… so strong! So much strength from a measly two fighters’, they’re certainly Drivers!”
Nia turns to me, and yells “Rex! Now!”
We turn to run in the other direction, but before we can make any real distance, a wall of blue flames appears in our way.
“Such a commotion..” a voice says calmly from behind us,
I turn to Typhos, “Typhos! Can’t you put out the flames!?”
“I can’t! Ether powers these flames, the only way to put them out is to stop the Ether from its source!”
We turn to face the soldiers and notice a striking new figure among them. Standing between the soldiers is a beautiful woman with purple hair that fades into flames at the tips. She has two buns on her head, also ablaze with blue flames. Dressed in a floor-length purple gown with flames at the edges, she wields two thin swords, each with segmented blades, held confidently at her sides.
“Just when I thought that I could enjoy some peace and quiet.” She says, appearing displeased at our presence.
The Ardainian Captain looks at the woman, clearly startled, “L-Lady Brighid!
“Brighid? Is she Blade? Where’s her driver?” I ask, having never seen a blade separate from their driver.
“My Driver is otherwise engaged at present. I am here alone.” She replies, amused by my confusion.
The captain laughs, convinced that we stand no chance, “Ba ha ha! Lady Brighid is the "Jewel of Mor Ardain"! The strongest Blade in the Empire! Even alone, she's more than a match for you! Lady Brighid, these miscreants are terrorists working for Torna. Please lend me your power to bring them to justice!”
Brighid perks up upon hearing the word Torna. “Torna?” She looks at Typhos and fixates upon his Core Crystal.
“Can it be true? An Amethyst Core Crystal…. Captain Padraig, do not kill them—take them alive.”
“Yes, ma’am!” he responds, turning to the soldiers behind him. “Men, grab the you-know-what!”
The soldiers rush off to carry out his orders.
Brighid readies her blades and charges at me. I block her first attack and channel more Ether into my sword. As the energy on the blade intensifies, Brighid leaps backward. From a distance, she launches two large blasts of flame. In response, I raise a wave of water to extinguish the flames.
Behind me, Typhos warns, “Don’t become complacent just because we have a technical advantage. Ether works differently than natural forces. While my water counters her fire, if she lands a direct blow, it will hit us much harder than a normal strike.”
“Right, I understand,” I reply. “She’s so strong, even without her Driver.”
“Stop yammering! Just get her!” Nia yells, charging forward.
Before she can land an attack, a large net is fired at her and Dromarch.
The net wraps around the Blade and Driver, causing them to fall, restrained on the ground.
“Nia, Dromarch!” I yell.
Padraig shouts, “This is an Ether Net! Try using your precious Arts when you can’t draw Ether from the atmosphere!”
Brighid concurs, “Yes, no matter how powerful the Blade, without the flow of Ether, we become quite useless.”
This reminds me. “Typhos, can you manage one of those blasts from before? What did you call it, Ether Control?”
“No, I can’t control Fire Elemental Ether. No matter how hard I try, it would get canceled out,” he responds.
“Dammit! What can we do?”
“Go, Rex! You have your own goal; leave us!” Nia yells.
“I’m not going to do that! I can’t leave you here!”
Gramps yells from behind me, “We must go, Rex! There is no other way!”
Before I can make a decision, Brighid interrupts, “There is no escape.” She throws her blades outward, and flames branch from them, creating another wall and preventing our escape.
“Dammit!”
In my peripheral vision, I see something small but incredibly fast-moving launch over me. It collides with a pipe above Brighid’s head, causing water to erupt and douse the flames, soaking Brighid.
“Ugh, water?” Brighid complains.
“Typhos, now!” I say, offering him the end of our sword's hilt. He grabs on, and we leap upward, a mass of Ether coagulating on the blade of our sword.
“ Obliteration Blade!”
The attack knocks Brighid back, and she screams in pain.
Typhos and I turn and run. It hurts to leave Nia behind, but if we tried to free her, it would give Brighid too much time to recover.
As we run, we hear a small voice from the side of the building. A small head pokes out from around a corner— a Nopon.
“This way, friends! This way, Tora will help you escape!”
Notes:
I hesitated on making Brighid the blade for this. I toyed with having Aegeaon being Mòrag's blade for this story, solely to make it so that Typhos did not have an elemental advantage against her, but I decided against it, since I definitely feel that Aegeaon is less compelling than Bridghid.
I tried to tease a bit of budding romance between Nia and Rex, but I did not want to make it egregiously apparent.
After discussing with a commenter, I've decided that I am going to avoid adding a ton of extra blades to the main cast. I am toying with making Corvin and Crossette large characters, and I absolutely want to make Roc a major character as well. Aside from these, are there any characters you guys would like to see? I cannot handle much more than them, but I want to give you guys what you want. Let me know!
I don't intend on adapting many side quests, but the sidequest centering around Jac and his family is certainly one of them.
I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, what do you guys think?
Chapter 10: Of Nopons and Ether
Summary:
Padraig has a poor experience with the Consul
Rex and Typhos meet Tora, and Typhos gives in to his impulses.
Notes:
Here's a smaller update! I think I will start writing the next chapter immediately after posting this, but I wanted to keep this one separate. Tried to make this one pretty lighthearted.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Of Nopons and Ether
[PADRAIG]
After securing the girl, I go to make my report to the consul.
“The boy and the Blade working with him got away. However, we managed to apprehend the girl from the wanted poster, along with her Blade!”
Consul Dughall, a loud, large man with a face only a mother could love, presses his large hand to his temple. “Say, Padraig, do you remember what my orders were?”
“Sir?”
The man yells, “I told you to capture the Blade with the Amethyst Core Crystal, do I not? Do you recall me ever telling you to capture some little girl with barely a bounty on her head?”
“Amethyst? Huh,” I think.
“B-but sir, she’s a member of Torna?”
Dughall’s face tenses. He lowers his gaze and speaks to me as if I were a child. “Let me make this clear. Get. The. Blade. With the Amethyst—”
“Um, Consul Dughall, sir—”
“What!?” he yells, clearly tired of my ignorance.
“I—I am not sure what color ‘Amethyst’ is supposed to be…”
“Architect help me, you dolt! It’s purple! Purple!”
“Ohh, purple… so Amethysts are purple…”
“You dunderhead! How many Blades do you see with purple Core Crystals?” he yells, waving his arms like a madman. “How could you possibly confuse that with a little girl and a cat monster?”
“Um, sir? I believe it’s more of a tiger…?”
“Silence!” he shouts, and I hurry out of the room to avoid further scolding.
“How am I supposed to know what that means? I can barely afford food, much less jewelry… Maybe I could get a healing Blade to cure my color blindness…” I mutter to myself, trying to shake off the scolding.
As I stand by the door, several soldiers rush into the consulate. I hear them say, clearly frantic, “Consul Dughall, sir! Special Inquisitor Mòrag has just arrived from the motherland!”
[REX]
As we turn the corner, we notice the Nopon peeking out from a hidden door built into the side of the building. I glance at Typhos, and he nods in agreement. We quickly rush through the door just as the Nopon slams it shut behind us.
I turn to face our savior, but he startles me. He is a large Nopon—bigger than most others we’ve encountered, though still smaller than Bana. He wears dirty blue overalls with a thick belt wrapped around his body, filled with numerous pouches stuffed to the brim with random items. A pair of goggles sits precariously on the top of his head.
“Thanks for saving us! But I have to ask… why did you do it?” I inquire.
“No reason,” the Nopon replies with a casual shrug.
“No reason?” I question, skeptical.
“Sorry, that’s not true,” he says, glancing to the side for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Truth is, Tora doesn’t like those big bully soldiers. I was thinking of testing my shiny new Boom Biter on them when I saw my friends running away. The Boom Biter missed and hit a water pipe, but the results weren’t so bad, hey?” He begins to jump up and down, flapping his wings like an unsuccessful attempt to take off.
“Oh, so you were the one who shot the pipe?” Typhos says, looking surprised. “I may be a Water Blade, but natural water is still much better at putting out Fire Blades, especially when we don’t want to actually hurt them. Ether tends to… well, you know, explode. You really saved us there, thank you.”
“Friends are very welcome!” Tora replies, clearly happy with the attention.
“So, you’re Tora. I’m Rex, and this is Typhos,” I introduce our team.
“It’s nice to meet you!” Typhos adds.
I notice Typhos reaching out his hand, but he stops himself as if restraining an impulse.
“Come, friends! I will show you Tora’s home!” he exclaims.
He leads the way, excitedly rambling about the things he wants to show us in his home. I fall back, casting a suspicious glance at Typhos.
“What was that about, Typhos?” I whisper.
“I want to pet the Nopon,” he replies earnestly.
“H-huh?” I stutter, struggling to suppress a laugh. “No, Typhos, you cannot pet the Nopon.”
“Come on, Rex! His hair looks so fluffy! Just once can't hurt!”
As we laugh together behind him, Tora turns to face us. “Actually, there other reason for saving you.”
“And what is that?”
“Will tell everything when we make it to workshop of Tora!” He runs ahead of us, and we sprint to follow him.
Tora leads us to a building, all under the main boardwalk of Torigoth. “So, this is where you live..” I say in awe, looking at the space above us.
“This is just back door, main entrance over there.” Tora says, indicating a door that is a lot more visible than all of the doors we came across before.
“Oh, alright. That certainly explains why the soldiers didn’t think to follow us down here, they didn’t know that door existed..” Typhos ponders at my side
I look to my left, at a ledge where there is no finished wall. “Woah, is that the Cloud Sea? We’re so high up!”
“Yup! Tora like to sit and just watch Cloud Sea sometimes.”
“Your home seems wonderfully comfortable, Tora. It’s a perfect fit for a Nopon,” Typhos says, his hand twitching noticeably.
“Mehehe, um… anyway, Rex-Rex...”
“Rex-Rex?”
“Yes, Rex-Rex. Tora wants to explain another reason for helping. You see, Tora has always wanted to make Driver friends.”
“Huh! Interested in Drivers, are you?”
“ But of course! Tora thinks it’s amazing how Drivers and Blades join their spirits together to create powerful combinations! Tora really wants to be the sidekick of Rex-Rex!”
“Uh, you do know my name is just Rex, right? Just one, not two.”
“Come on, Rex, let him give you a nickname; it’s kind of cute—Rex-Rex,” Typhos says, snickering at the thought.
“Not you too…” I reply.
“A double name just shows Tora’s respect for Rex-Rex! It’s a good thing! You should be proud!”
“If you say so…” I reply, uncertain about the idea. “Oh, all right! If it makes you happy, you can call me Rex-Rex. I just don’t know if I’ve done anything to deserve that yet. But enough with all this sidekick stuff; let's just be friends.”
“Really!? Tora will be a friend of Rex-Rex!? Hooray!” Tora exclaims, dancing around the room and waggling his wings.
Before I can respond, Typhos dashes forward and picks up Tora. He sits on the ground with Tora in his lap and starts to pet him like a cat.
“Waaaaa! Tora is not littlepon anymore! No need for grooming!”
“Typhos, I told you not to pet the Nopon!” I exclaim.
“Come on, you can’t tell me this doesn’t look like fun,” Typhos says with a smirk.
I help free Tora and apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry, Tora! I don’t know what got into him,” I say, shooting a glare in Typhos's direction.
“I regret nothing,” he replies, still smirking.
“Alright, Tora, I’m sorry to change the topic, but we’re in a bit of a rush. Do you know much about this town?”
“Yeah! Tora grew up here!”
“Do you happen to know where the military keeps its prisoners?”
Typhos’s gaze hardens, a far cry from his previous mischievous demeanor. “Rex, you aren’t considering…”
“Of course I am, Typhos! We have to help Nia and Dromarch!”
Gramps, having woken from a nap after the War of Pets, says, “I thought you might say that…”
Tora’s eyes light up. “Oh, you mean the Driver and Blade you were with before Tora’s daring rescue?”
“Yeah, them.”
“Meh-Meh, Tora would need to ask the local informant for that...” Tora says, sounding uncertain about how to help. “But before that, food time! All this running around has made Tora hungry. Tora needs food to help Rex-Rex!”
“I’m a bit peckish, too,” Gramps adds.
“Can’t we eat later? I want to find Nia and Dromarch as soon as possible—”
As I say this, my stomach grumbles loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“Ahahaha! Rex, we can’t adventure on an empty stomach. If we need food, leave it to me,” Typhos says, reverting to his cheerful nature.
“I can’t help it, can I?” I respond, feeling powerless. “I really just want to help them as soon as possible…”
“It’s alright, my boy,” Gramps reassures me, patting the back of my head. “We’ll help them, but we need adequate rest and food, or else we’ll just end up locked up alongside them.”
I look at Typhos, and he meets my gaze. I can tell he is concerned as well. “You said that you could help with our food problem?”
“Yup! I’m far from a professional, but I can certainly make a palatable meal,” he replies, drawing a small knife hidden in his armor and twirling it around.
“Want something flame-broiled, though? You might want to ask Brighid,” he adds, winking at me.
“Ugh,” I shudder. “I don’t want to face her again for a long while.”
Typhos looks at Tora, and asks, “Tora, do you have anything that I might be able to use to make something?”
Tora, eager to help however he can, replies, “Just what is in pantry. Don’t have much, though, sorry.”
“It does not seem wise to go out and buy something right now, so we should try and make do,” Gramps adds
Typhos is already in the pantry, taking stock of what we have available, “Glitterspuds, Sumpkins... Yeah! I should be able to make something nice with this. “ He shifts his gaze to Tora, “Mind if I use the kitchen?”
Tora responds, “What is Tora’s is Friend’s! Use what must.”
As Typhos cooks, a welcoming smell fills the air. Before my stomach grumbled before, I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was. By the time Typhos brings us our plates, I can hardly keep my mouth from watering.
As we eat, the conversation stops. All of us are far too interested in filling our bellies to possibly wish to stop to talk. After we have finished, we all gaze in awe at Typhos.
“Oh man, that was delicious! I never took you for a chef, Typhos!” I exclaim
“So very tasty! Yummy!” Tora says happily
“I’m glad you liked it! I was worried I had gotten rusty.”
“Tora is curious, Typhos is Water using Blade, right? How come you waited for Tora to douse Fire Lady Blade before you attack? Could friend not have doused her from beginning?”
“Ether is fickle, my friend.” Typhos says, “While yes, I could have just launched a wave of water at Brighid from the beginning, it would have been incredibly dangerous for all of us, and anyone in the buildings next to us. Natural water is far safer, and far less volatile than Water Elemental ether. If I was trying to end Brighid, then yes, I could have gotten the job done with my powers. But, I did not feel that to be necessary. Even the final attack Rex and I used was incredibly weakened, because we did not want to risk a Steam Explosion, or worse.”
“Oh, OK!” Tora says, seeming to buy Typhos’ explanation.
“Alright guys, now that we have eaten, can we please prepare to save Nia and Dromarch…?
Notes:
THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME!? I felt obligated to include Padraig, even if it's just a little bit.
After familiarizing yourself with his character over the past few chapters, what do you guys think of Typhos? I am trying to make him seem earnest and cheerful, but still a bit torn up over his past. Let me know!
I am planning on a Major canon divergence soon, nothing like a character death, but a major change nonetheless. I hope you look forward to it!
Chapter 11: Artificial Blades
Summary:
Mórag arrives in Torigoth, and interrogates Nia.
Rex and Co. gather information on Nia, and when the time comes to prepare, they choose to invest into Tora, and help him create an Artificial Blade.
Notes:
Not a ton of Original content this time around, but I hope that Typhos and how he interacts with Tora is enjoyable. First time with Mórag's POV as well! Please enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Artificial Blades:
[M ÓRAG]
As I exit the ship, the wind threatens to blow my hat away. Despite this inconvenience, I welcome it. The interiors of Ardanian ships prioritize efficiency over comfort, making the cabins quite uncomfortable due to the lack of airflow. As I walk along the boardwalk, I encounter the Torigothian Consul, Dughall. He greets me, clearly displeased by my presence, though he does his best to mask it behind an overly welcoming demeanor.
“Special Inquisitor Mórag! To what do we owe this extreme pleasure?” he says, trying hard to please me. “Had we known of your visit, we could have arranged a more suitable—”
I interrupt him, not wanting to hear him prattle on like an overindulgent puffot. “You know I do not stand on ceremony, Consul. I would prefer that you just do your job.”
“Y-your Grace?” he stutters, caught off guard by my attitude. “Surely someone of your standing deserves to be treated as such! You are His Majesty’s representative!”
Behind him, I spot Brighid, and the weight on my shoulders lightens. It isn’t unusual for us to separate, but it’s still a relief to see her unharmed.
“Please allow us to prepare a meal befitting Your Grace. Until then, we would be honored if—”
Brighid interrupts him, seemingly irritated by his incessant flattery. “You made good time. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
I shift my attention away from the Consul, much to his displeasure. He gasps, “L-Lady Brighid?!”
“If we have found the Aegis, then there is no time to waste,” I say, acknowledging her surprise. “Though the journey has taken a considerable toll on our engines.”
Dughall flounders. “T-the Aegis!? How could you possibly—”
I lower my gaze at him, weary of his constant blabbering and already aware of his deceit. “Is there a problem, Dughall?” I ask, purposely stripping him of his title.
“N-not at all, Your Grace…”
“Good. Now, I hear you have captured a Driver from Torna. I am going to speak with her.”
“W-why would you…?”
“Dughall,” I order, standing tall above him, “I do not recall asking for your opinion.”
“Y-Yes Ma’am, I shall take you to her right away!” He says, stepping in front of me to guide me.
Dughall guides us to the consulate building. Despite the fact I have been to Torigoth before, I welcome the guidance, as it has been a while. I chuckle to myself, “ Maybe he’d perform better as a tour guide than a consul..”
When we enter the building, I take the main seat at the desk, despite the fact that it is usually reserved for the Consul himself. I make myself comfortable, almost entirely to make the consul squirm. Brighid stands at my side. “Well? Are you not going to fetch the prisoner, Dughall?”
“O-Of course, Your Grace!” He stumbles out of the room, tripping on his own feet.
Before long, he enters the room, with a small, silver-haired Gormotti girl in front of him. Despite her small stature, she maintains a strong will, fighting back and pulling herself away from him, although she doesn’t seem to be trying to escape, merely avoiding the touch of the Consul.
He nearly tosses the girl in front of me, but a soldier standing by the desk catches her before she can fall. He lifts her and gently places her back on her feet. She smiles at the soldier who assisted her, but when her gaze returns to me, it is filled with defiance.
“Hmph,” she grunts, looking to the side and avoiding direct eye contact.
“So, you’re the Torna Ruffian. I must say, you look quite different from what’s shown on your wanted poster,” I remark, glancing at a copy of the poster on the desk in front of me. It depicts what appears to be a lion in a wig, a shocking contrast to the young woman standing before me.
“A little different!? Whoever drew that ought to be the one in jail!”
I chuckle to myself, amused by the thought. “Hah, yes, I would be angry too.”
“You can drop the friendly act,” she snaps.
“Are you not going to name your companions?” I ask, looking at her from beneath the brim of my hat.
“I would hardly consider those Torna goons ‘friends’,” she replies, her tone dripping with contempt. Perhaps the reports that she defected from them willingly were true.
“It seems there has been a misunderstanding. I’m not referring to Torna, but to your more recent traveling companions—the Driver Boy and his Blade.”
“Huh? Rex and Typhos?” she responds, surprised by my question.
“Well, that was easy,” I smirk, amused at her misfortune.
[TYPHOS]
When Tora mentioned he had a suitable disguise for me, one that would conceal my Core Crystal, I felt hesitant. My skepticism grew when he revealed an old coat, clearly meant for a young Gormotti girl, complete with spaces for ears on the hood.
"Uh, well, I suppose it would hide my core..." I said, not wanting to hurt the young Nopon's feelings. Then, an idea struck me. "Tora, judging by your outfit, you’re a mechanic, right?"
Tora seemed taken aback by my guess. "A-Aha, maybe not exactly a mechanic, but something close, perhaps?"
I recalled how Mythra hides her core beneath a sheet of armor. "Do you happen to have an extra sheet of metal lying around? If we could attach it to my armor, it might be a safer way to conceal my core without drawing attention. I'm afraid the coat might attract more attention than we want..."
"Oh, that's a good idea!" Tora exclaims as he rushes into a small room concealed by a curtain.
I turn to Rex, who is playing around with the coat Tora just brought out. "What do you think, Gramps? Do I look dashing?"
"I don't know, my boy. I think it would look better on me," Gramps responds as he slips into the hood of the coat and attempts to fly, albeit unsuccessfully.
I laugh, struggling to maintain a serious demeanor. "Come on, guys, what happened to Mr. 'We need to save Nia and Dromarch at all costs!'?"
Rex chuckles and replies, "Yeah, yeah, but if we're waiting for Tora to find that piece of metal, we might as well have some fun."
Before long, Tora emerges with a piece of metal that's the perfect size to conceal my core. The color is not quite right, but it will certainly attract less attention than wearing a little girl's coat. Tora helps me cover my core with some pins, and soon enough, the shine of my core is no longer visible beneath the metal.
Rex, now satisfied because my core is no longer in clear view, says, “Alright, let’s get going and visit that informant!”
We have Tora lead the way to the informant, as apparently, the informant hides in an alley that may be hard to find for a non-Torigoth resident.
Before we make it to the Informant, we reach the plaza where the driver recruitment event was occurring.
“Did Rex-Rex know they were performing Driver Recruitment here?”
“Yup, I saw it when I was here before.”
“Rex-Rex should try too! The chance of success is basically 100%,” Tora exclaims, flapping his wings excitedly.
“I’m wanted by the Ardanian Empire right now. It seems like a poor idea to make myself conspicuous.”
“Rex-Rex makes a good point… Tora is just excited to see what type of Blade Rex-Rex would awaken…” Tora says, sounding disappointed.
“And besides, I don’t need another Blade, do I? I already have Typhos,” Rex replies, looking at me for approval.
“Not at all, Rex. While I can handle myself, a wise Driver maintains a regular number of Blades. Every Blade is different, after all. Having a variety of Elements and Weapons is a useful advantage,” I say, trying to ease Rex’s concerns.
“Huh, I suppose if you are okay with it, then I don’t have a problem with making a few new friends. We’ll have to see if we can come across any Core Crystals,” Rex responds.
Gramps seems to notice something in the distance and turns to face me. “Say, Typhos, has Rex outfitted your weapon with any Core Chips and Aux Cores?”
“No, he hasn’t. There hasn’t been an opportunity,” I reply.
Gramps points to a pair of shops near the alley where we were caught. “There’s a Core Chip and Aux Core shop. Should we prepare for our rescue mission?”
I turn to Rex. “Rex, that’s a good idea. My blade is sharp, but it can always be sharper.”
“Uh, okay. Lead the way,” Rex says, seeming uncertain about the choice.
When we reach the Core Chip shop, there are many selections available. I help Rex choose one that would best suit my weapon. “You know, some Blade weapons can even change shape with the Core Chip you use. Mine won’t, but be sure that the Core Chip you choose won’t alter the weapon's shape so significantly that you can’t use it safely,” I warn Rex, though he appears a bit overwhelmed by all the information.
At the Auxiliary Core Shop, Gramps explains the purpose of Aux Cores and what they can do. “Oh, so that’s what those are...” Rex says, recalling that we found a couple of Aux Cores earlier. He turns to me, “Typhos, what Aux Core would be best?”
“Hmm, let’s go with Hunter’s Chemistry. We may find better options in the future, but it will make it easier for me to transfer energy in battle.”
“I like the sound of that. I always thought that it was weird we couldn’t fight to our full capabilities at the start of battle.” Rex says, reflecting on his short time as a Driver.
“Alright, I think we’ve prepared enough. We should go find the informant,” I say, turning to Tora. “Want to lead the way?”
Tora flaps his wings and replies, “Yup! Tora will lead the way!”
He guides us down an alley, and at the end, we find a Nopon hiding in the shadows.
Rex takes the lead and asks, “Have you heard any information about a Gormotti girl being held prisoner?”
The informant responds, “I know this, of course, but Turuni is an informant by trade. If you want information, you must first pay for it.”
Rex looks at me, as if asking for approval, and I nod. He pays the informant, and the Nopon begins to share the information we need.
“Thanks much for your custom!” Turuni exclaims, greedily grabbing the gold. “Inside a Titan battleship, the Gormotti girl is being held prisoner. Unfortunately, Turuni has not yet received intelligence specifying the prisoner’s name. But rumors say a big ship has arrived for the sole purpose of holding one measly girl for execution. The people of Gormott are getting along quite well with the Empire nowadays, so trouble like this is not very welcome! That seems to be the opinion of most Torigoth residents. That’s about the extent of the information Turuni knows. Is that enough to satisfy my friends?”
Rex, clearly shaken by the information, can only manage a quiet “Thanks…” in response.
We leave the alley, and I follow Rex as we head back to Tora’s house. Rex appears angry and exhausted the entire way back. He isn’t taking the news well.
“Rex, are you okay? I know it’s hard to hear, but at least we know where to look now.”
“We have to do something, but I don’t know what! He said she was being held for execution!” Rex exclaims.
“But boarding a heavily armored military ship… It would be no easy feat.” Gramps says, pondering our situation
“I guess we just have to mount a full-on attack!” Rex exclaims, seeming certain, despite the poor idea.
“No, Rex! That would put both us and Nia in danger, do you think they would just sit by and watch us take her? We need to be smarter than that.” I say sternly,
“Right, sorry,” he says.
“We’ll figure something out, Rex. We just don’t have the manpower to be hasty,” I reply.
“Well, if it’s manpower we need…” Tora interjects, “I might have an idea.”
“Hmm? And what is that?” Rex asks, his attention caught by Tora.
“Follow Tora!” Tora says, leading us back to the room we were in before, covered by a curtain.
“Isn’t this where you got the covering for my Core?” I ask.
“Yes! But there’s something else precious in here,” Tora replies, brimming with pride as he pulls back the curtain.
Behind it stands what appears to be a girl—small and mechanical, but clearly intended to resemble a human. She wears a white cap adorned with a red flower, black pants, and a brilliant red cape. An orange crystal is embedded in her chest.
“Is that meant to be… a Core Crystal?” I inquire.
Tora puffs out his chest and says, “Yes! Nobody has seen this before; it’s Tora’s secret. An Artificial Blade!”
“An Artificial Blade?” I respond, surprised at the idea,
“I never would have thought..” Gramps states, just as surprised as I am
“Tora have always wanted to be Driver of Blade… But Tora has no potential to awaken Core Crystal.”
“No potential? Come on, you’ve just got to go out and—oh, you did try, didn’t you?” Rex says.
“Yes. One year ago, Tora went out and applied to the driver recruitment man.”
I remember the explosive reaction of the people in the square when they saw someone without potential. “Oh dear, Tora, you didn’t…”
“It was horrible! Tora had a nosebleed for three whole days!”
Rex tilts his head to the side, confused by the severity. “A nosebleed? That’s it?”
Tora jumps around, yelling at Rex, “’That’s it’!? People can die from loss of blood, you know!”
“Yeah, but from a nosebleed?” Rex replies, still skeptical.
“Anyway, moving on…”
“You seem awful casual about a near-death experience, you know,” Rex says, teasing Tora at this point.
“ANYWAY, back to Tora’s blade! When it's complete, a no-potential person like Tora can be a driver!”
“Simply incredible… You built this blade from scratch, Tora?” Gramps says, in awe of the young Nopon’s abilities.
“It was started by Grampypon and Dadapon. But Grampypon died, and Tora still doesn’t know where Dadapon is,” Tora says. “But Tora will finish the Artificial Blade! Then Dadapon will hear about Tora’s success and come back home, yes?”
“Oh, Tora…” I say, feeling immense pity for our newfound friend.
“By the way, Tora, this blade… it looks complete? What else does it need?”
“Hehehe! All Tora has left to do is buy the missing parts! But Tora is flat broke.”
“Oh? Really?” Rex says, suspiciously.
“Not even 1 gold.”
“So you’re asking for a loan?”
“Not a loan, more like a generous donation!”
Gramps puts his paws on his face. “Just like a Nopon, always shrewd when it comes to gold…”
“B-but if Tora completes the Artificial Blade, its combat capabilities would be a great help on big missions!”
“Well, yeah, if it works, you may have a point…” Rex replies, not yet convinced about the idea of an Artificial Blade. “So, how much do you need…?”
“A-Aha, no more than, say, 60,000 gold…?”
“SIXTY THOUSAND!?” Rex yells. “D'you want a kidney as well?”
I put my hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Calm down, Rex. I think we owe Tora a favor after all his help.” I take my mask, which hangs off my waist, and offer it to Rex. “Addam made this for me before I was sealed away. I suppose it could be considered a historical artifact. If we sold it, we might be able to make enough money to buy the parts that Tora needs.”
“No way! I can’t let you sell that!” Rex yells.
“But—”
“No way, I won’t allow it. If we’re going to do this, I’ll pay for it myself.” Rex adds, “But if we’re going to go through with this, that Blade of yours better be seriously amazing, Tora.”
“Of course! That is a Tora guarantee!”
“So, what is it that you need for the Artificial Blade?” Rex asks.
“One Perfect Range Sensor and three Bion Connectors!”
Rex, Tora, Gramps, and I go through the motions to collect the items Tora needs for his Blade. Rex learns that he can get the Bion Connectors by salvaging, which he spends several days fishing out of the Cloud Sea. A resident of Torigoth gives us a Perfect Range Sensor in exchange for clearing out some monsters so he could perform some botany. It was a pain and took much longer than Rex had hoped, but we made it through without breaking the bank. After gathering the items we need, we gather in Tora’s house for the Artificial Blade’s ‘Awakening.’
It is a cold and stormy night, with lightning raging outside. Tora is working feverishly inside a curtained room, and after many hours of waiting, he finally emerges.
“It is done!” Tora exclaims, clearly exhausted yet filled with pride.
“Is it really complete?” Rex asks hopefully.
“Very complete!” Tora assures him. “It just needs energy charge to activate!”
Gramps urges, “Tora, our friends’ execution draws near. Make haste!”
“I know, I know. It’s wakey-wakey time for the Artificial Blade!” Tora says as he reaches for a large lever on the wall.
“Wait, Tora!” I yell, startling the others. “You can’t just call her ‘Artificial Blade’; you have to give her a name!”
“Oh, well, Tora actually has thought of a name. It’s a very good name,” Tora replies.
“Very well then, Tora, introduce us!” Gramps encourages.
“Alright, wake up, Tora’s Artificial Blade, Poppi!” Tora pulls the lever, and the house is struck by a bolt of lightning. The walls shake, and when the lights return, Poppi stands upright, staring blankly ahead.
“P-Poppi?” Tora inquires.
Suddenly, Poppi begins to move and starts to… twirl?
“★How can I be of service, Master?★” she says, lifting her arms and legs in a stereotypical, cutesy manner.
Rex, Gramps, and I are astounded. We don’t know how to respond, so we simply stare at Tora in disbelief.
"W-w-wait a minute!” Tora rushes to a console next to Poppi and presses a few buttons. “Erm, forget you saw that! I need to change a few settings, aha…”
“The settings, sure…” I say, clearly not buying what he’s saying for a second.
“Th-this time it should be okay. The second time will go best,” Tora says while reaching for the lever once more. “Power… on!”
Lightning strikes the house again, and when the lights return, Poppi has returned to a neutral position. Her head turns to face Tora, and she speaks. “Greetings, Masterpon.”
Tora’s eyes light up, and he yells in celebration, “I… I did it! The world's first artificial Blade, Poppi!”
Notes:
I think I am having a hard time figuring out what content to leave in, and what to remove. I am trying to adhere to the script of the game, as I want this to be a "faithful" adaptation, but at the same time, there is a lot of unnecessary fluff. So, in this chapter, I removed all of the dialogue and side-questiness of the Bion Connectors and Perfect Range Sensor shenanigans. Should I continue to try and remove/summarize these moments? Or should I try and maintain the "faithfulness" aspect? Let me know what you'd prefer?
Next time, we rescue Nia, and diverge from the narrative >:)
Chapter 12: Freedom in Chains
Summary:
Rex and Co. board the Ardanian ship, and rescues Nia
Typhos snaps when he sees how Dughall mistreats his Blade, and emphasises his role as the Endbringer
Notes:
It's time for some canon divergence! We get more angry Typhos this time, I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Freedom in Chains:
[REX]
Poppi, our newly awakened mechanical ally, turns to Tora and asks, “Masterpon, what is the current situation?”
Tora freezes, seemingly caught off guard by the responsibility thrust upon him right after her awakening. He glances at me and stammers, “A-aha, Rex-Rex, you explain the mission!”
“Why me...? Oh well,” I reply, not expecting his insistence. “It’s nice to meet you, Poppi. We are currently preparing for a mission to rescue our friend from the Ardanian Military.”
“Poppi will try hard to make Masterpon and friends proud,” she says earnestly.
Suddenly, Tora jumps up, as if he remembers something important. “Rex-Rex! If you want to make Poppi stronger, you should try something!"
“Stronger, huh?” I respond.
Tora leads us back to the area where we first entered the building and introduces us to a small machine. It appears to be a device that salvagers use to train kids who are too young to dive.
“You see, Poppi is like a littlepon Blade right now, about as strong as a freshly awakened Blade,” Tora explains. “If you ever feel like Poppi is falling behind or not performing up to standard, come play Tiger-Tiger!”
“Tiger-Tiger?” I ask, confused about what he means.
“Tiger-Tiger! It’s a game that Grampypon designed for Tora. When Rex-Rex wins, he can win parts for Poppi as a prize!”
At my side, Typhos asks, “Could we just break it open and upgrade Poppi to her maximum capabilities right now?”
Tora looks at Typhos as if he had just suggested slapping his Grampypon in the face. “No! Grampypon would roll over in his grave! We need to play fair; otherwise, he’ll haunt us for sure!”
“U-uh, okay. I didn’t realize it was that important,” Typhos replies.
“Alright, Rex-Rex! Give it a shot!” Tora insists, and I comply.
Tiger-Tiger seems to be an arcade game centered around a Nopon diving in the Cloud Sea. There are directional buttons to move and another button to attack. The goal is to collect treasure chests throughout the stage while avoiding enemies and other hazards. It’s not exactly something I would choose to play in my free time, but if it could help save Nia…
“Huh, so every chest you collect corresponds to parts or resources for Poppi…” I say, recognizing its usefulness.
I turn to Tora and offer him the parts I gained from playing the game. “Do you think any of these parts could be useful? We don’t have much time to spend diving into this game…”
Tora examines the items and exclaims, “Tank Mod II! This is an upgrade for Poppi. The other parts are better than nothing. We’re definitely in a better position to rescue your friend!”
“That’s good! But where do we even start looking for her?” I ask, uncertain of our next steps.
Typhos explains, “I took a walk around Torigoth while we were waiting for you to resurface from your salvaging. There is a massive Ardanian ship docked by one of Grandarbor's roots. When I asked some of the local kids, they said they hadn’t seen the ship before, so it’s safe to assume it’s the ship the informant mentioned.”
“Alright, could I ask you to lead the way, Typhos?” I ask,
“Of course, just follow me!”
[TYPHOS]
I lead our diverse group of allies to the spot where I saw the ship the previous day. To my immense relief, the Grandarbor’s Root is still secured to the ship.
Tora yells, “There’s a Titan warship!”
“Mmm. Quite an impressive Titan,” Gramps adds. “This is another sign that Mor Ardain is preparing for war with Uraya once again.”
“Look! That root goes straight to the ship, just like Typhos said,” Rex remarks, smiling at me.
“I’m just relieved that they didn’t move the ship while we’ve been gone,” I respond.
“Yes, yes!” Tora agrees.
“We should be able to climb down here,” Rex suggests, pointing to vines that descend the cliff face, leading to where the root branches off.
“Understood,” Poppi replies, and she leaps off the edge of the cliff. As she approaches the ground, boosters in her feet activate, slowing her fall and delivering her safely down.
“Show off…” Rex grumbles.
I laugh, and we descend, albeit much slower than Poppi, down the cliff. When we reach the bottom of the cliff, the ship’s size is much more striking. We walk down the length of the root, and at its end, the ship towers over us, seeming like we could fit all of Torigoth within it.
“Yikes… How are we gonna find Nia in such a massive ship?” Rex asks, feeling doubtful
“If we didn’t have Tora, it would be impossible. But now that we have some more allies, we should be able to handle it.” I say, doing my utmost to encourage my Driver.
“Of course. Thanks, Typhos.”
“Hmm, Rex, could you use your anchor to pull yourself to the ledge?” Gramps suggests, pointing to an opening about 20 feet above us.
Rex aims his anchor at the ledge and launches it. The hook bites into the metal roof of the opening, and he engages the mechanism to pull himself up. When he reaches the platform safely, he removes the anchor and extends it back down, signaling that he’s ready to pull us all up.
“Typhos, you first. I’ll pull you up,” he calls out.
A knot of unease tightens in my stomach. I’m significantly larger than Rex, and no matter how strong he is, I doubt he’ll be able to lift me. I turn to Poppi. “Hey, Poppi, could you help Rex lift the rest of us? I’m worried he might fall.”
Poppi nods, determination in her eyes. “Of course. Poppi help pull Typhos up.” With that, she grabs Tora and activates the boosters in her feet, launching herself up next to Rex.
When Poppi and Tora stand safely beside Rex, she grabs the anchor alongside Rex. Rex nods at me, and I hold onto the anchor. With minimal effort, Poppi and Rex are able to lift me to their level, and I jump onto the platform.
I let Rex lead us through the ship. It is a winding, sprawling vessel with numerous turns and obstacles. The area we entered appears to be a waste disposal chute, and when we reach the end of the tunnel, we find a tank filled with clouds from the Cloud Sea. Some monsters make their home here, but we dispose of them without much difficulty.
Poppi is surprisingly lifelike. She provides Tora with a massive shield—at least, it seems massive compared to him—with a drill embedded in its surface. Sourced from deep within her chest, she supports Tora with an Affinity Link, similar to those used by natural Blades. If I didn't know her origin, I could almost mistake her for just a normal Blade with a mechanical appearance.
“Tora, Poppi is truly a marvel,” I say, genuinely in awe of her abilities. “How you managed to create a Blade with such lifelike accuracy, I couldn't possibly understand.”
“Three generations of hard work!” Tora exclaims, puffing out his chest. “Grampypon, Dadapon, and I put many years into the creation of Poppi.”
“Wow… Poppi, do you remember anything about Tora’s father and grandfather? Or do you not have memories of your creation?” I ask the mechanical Blade.
Poppi places her hands on her waist and states proudly, “Grampypon and Dadapon of Masterpon were state-of-the-art inventors. The Ether Furnace used in Poppi is actually a creation of Masterpon’s Grampypon!”
“Interesting, it seems you think highly of them as well, Poppi,” Gramps comments. “Tora, she seemed more lifelike there, like she was showing more emotion. How is that?”
“Poppi is equipped with state-of-the-art programming,” Tora explains.
“Poppi learns from every conversation and automatically improves her conversational programming. The more friends talk to Poppi, the better Poppi becomes at responding!” Poppi adds, as if her own programming is the most fascinating subject in the world.
“Nice, nice! Guess we’d better keep talking to you, then.” Rex says, seeming happy at the idea of having another friend.
As we proceed through the ship, we come across many Ardanian soldiers, as we expected, but Tora and Poppi are always able to take their attention before they can do any harm to Rex and me. With Tora taking the enemies aggro, we can take them out efficiently, and safely.
“So, I guess this is what other people refer to as ‘Driver Roles’”, Rex ponders, “Tora and Poppi don’t deal too much damage, but all of the enemies cannot seem to take their eyes off of them.”
“Of course, Rex.” Gramps says, seeming disappointed that it took Rex this long to notice, “Every driver’s role depends on what Blade they are using. Typhos would be considered an Attacker, Dromarch a Healer, and Poppi a Tank.”
“If Rex-Rex want Poppi to do something else, should play Tiger-Tiger!” Tora exclaims, “Poppi can change role depending on what Mod she has. You got Tank Mod II last time you played, which improved Poppi’s ability as Tank. But there Healer and Attacker Mods available, too!”
Poppi, whom throughout this conversation has just been observing, suddenly tenses. She turns to Tora, “Masterpon, Poppi can sense ether wavelength of Blade. Was friend’s friend a Driver?”
“Yes!” Rex exclaims, “Her Blade is named Dromarch. Can you lead us in the Ether’s direction?”
“Of course. Please follow.” Poppi states confidently
Poppi leads us through the sprawling corridors of the ship. With every twist and turn, Poppi seems to know where to go. Even I cannot sense Ether to such pinpoint precision, everything I learn about Poppi manages impresses me even more. Before long, she stops in front of a door.
“Blade in here.” She says, indicating the door we stand next to.
“Alright, Rex, may I have the sword?” I ask, and he hands me our shared blade, “Everyone, stand back.”
I pour Ether into the sword, and in a single, swift movement, I reduce the metal door to scrap.
In the corner of the room, lays Dromarch.
I freeze, worrying that I struck him accidentally, “You alright, Dromarch? I didn’t use too much power, did I?”
“Typhos, Rex!” Dromarch stands up, seeming pleased to see us.
“Whew, be glad you didn’t give him a spontaneous haircut, Typhos.” Rex jokes
Gramps pops up next to Rex’s head, peering into the cell, “It is nice to see you unharmed.”
Tora and Poppi jump in, “It very nice!”
“See, Masterpon? Told you there was Blade in here.”
Dromarch startles, “Master Titan... And I’m sorry, who?”
Rex jumps in, not offering an explanation for our newfound allies, “Dromarch, we’re kind of in a rush. Do you have any idea where Nia is?”
“Of course, we are in resonance, after all.”
[NIA]
As much as it hurt to be back in Torigoth, being imprisoned again hurt even more. It wasn’t just the imprisonment itself, but the memories it brought back. The only reason I joined Torna was because of Jin—he cut down the door and offered me his hand.
I hear a crash, and the door to the cell falls apart. As my eyes adjust to the light, I see a tall figure wearing plated armor.
“Jin?”
“Nia! Are you okay?” As my vision clears, I recognize Typhos, with Rex just behind him.
“Rex, Typhos, you…?”
Dromarch slips into the room, lowering his head in shame. “I am sorry for my late arrival, my lady.”
I laugh lightly and reach out to pet Dromarch behind his ear. “It’s alright. I didn’t really think anyone was coming.”
Rex steps closer, smiling, his golden eyes sparkling despite the dim light. He offers me his hand. “As if we’d leave you! That’s part of the Salvagers’ code, you know: ‘Always help those who help you.’”
I laugh genuinely this time, my heart pounding in my chest. “That’s just like you, Rex.” I take his hand and rise to my feet. “Thank you, Rex, and you too, Typhos.”
“Of course, Nia. I’d never forgive myself if we had to leave you behind. I’ve left enough behind in my time; I think I deserve to be selfish.”
“Haha! Because putting your neck on the line for someone else is selfish,” I giggle.
As we talk, a familiar face and two unfamiliar ones peek in from the doorway. Nopon wearing goggles and overalls appears and says, “Rex-Rex! Tora has found an escape route! Hurry-hurry!”
A-A Nopon!?” I exclaim, incredulous.
Rex laughs beside me. “Haha, we made a new friend.”
Gramps, riding atop a little girl’s white hat, adds, “Well, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome here. Let's get going!”
[TYPHOS]
Tora leads the way through the rest of the ship. Behind us, I can hear Rex and Nia chatting. Through our connection, I sense Rex's happiness; it feels deeper than just happiness, though.
"So, a Nopon driver, huh?" Nia asks.
"Not quite. Tora doesn’t have the aptitude to be a natural Driver, but he is a master technician. He created an Artificial Blade, and she’s amazing," Rex responds, smiling a bit too widely for such a casual conversation.
I chuckle to myself, thinking , "I’ll have to tease him about that later."
Before we reach the hangar where we can escape, we encounter a door that is locked by an electrical mechanism. We need to loop around the ship to find the key for the mechanism, which leads us to run into an overwhelming number of guards. It's nothing we can't handle, especially with Nia and Dromarch's assistance, but it's quite an annoyance.
After what feels like an eternity of navigating through the ship, we finally return to the door, and with the key in hand, we are able to open it.
“Not much further to the exit!” Tora yells, pointing ahead with his wing.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice calls out, “Not so fast, my dear intruders,” and a massive figure steps in front of us, casting a large shadow that blocks our escape.
Nia, now positioned with Rex and me, hisses, “Dughall. Didn’t the Inquisitor give you enough of a thrashing?”
Dughall stands in front of us, accompanied by an extraordinarily large Blade. The Blade wields a massive hammer and sports gold-plated, armor-like skin.
“Letting a terrorist from Torna escape would make me look very bad indeed,” Dughall says, casting a quick glance at my chest. “Ah, that Amethyst Core Crystal! You must be the Aegis. Much as it pains me to admit, it seems Mòrag was right on the mark.”
I stepped back, cursing myself for not keeping the metal plate Tora gave me affixed above my core. Before I could respond, Rex retorted, “So you know who Typhos is, huh? You must be aware of how many of your kind we've taken down, you ratbag!”
Dughall maintains his haughty demeanor as he replies, “Now, now, let's watch our language. But of course I know. Typhos is the most powerful Blade in all of history, with the ability to rend Alrest asunder. Only a fool would know of that power and not seek to claim it! And I am no fool! Therefore, I will claim him as my own! You cannot argue with such logic!”
“Flaw detected in the final step of logic,” Poppi says. I give Poppi a high five and step forward in front of the others. “Yes, Alrest may have fallen victim to this power once before, but let me make this clear: I will never allow someone like you to wield it.”
Nia says from behind me, "Sorry, pal, you've done enough capturing for today." I toss my sword back to Rex, while Nia and Tora draw their weapons. I take a step back and allow Rex to take the lead.
Now that Nia has returned, we can finally execute at least part of the Driver Combo again, with Tora able to topple the opponent. However, the cowardly Driver in front of us refuses to face us directly. He hides behind his Blade, forcing it to absorb the brunt of our attacks while shooting at us with a puny rifle.
Rex grunts, clearly angry at his misuse of his Blade, “That coward! He’s just hiding behind his Blade!”
Dughall responds, goading him on, “What? Does common sense elude you? A Blade can regenerate from any injury! Whereas if I die, my Blade will return to a useless core!”
My rage builds.
Nia yells, “So you think it’s okay to use them as a living shield? They may recover, but Blades still feel pain!”
Dughall laughs, spurring my fury even more, “Hahah, how cute. The fleabag thinks we should care about Blades' feelings. Heeheehee, I wonder if YOU can feel pain!
Something long growing within me snaps. Throughout time, my brother and Addam have faced so much backlash from people like him. The people in the country of Torna, claiming that Titans and Blades were tools to use, not appreciate. Treating people who loved us and cared for us to be weak-minded. Calling them Pitiful, despite their empathy for those who could not fight back. The people who chase me, see me merely as a tool in some game. Hurting Rex, imprisoning Nia and Dromarch…
“Rex. Give me the sword.” I command
“H-huh? I mean, sure, but what are you going to do?” He says, handing me the sword.
I charge forward, blade in hand, and launch multiple blasts not at Dughall, but at his blade.
When the blasts connect, the Ether surrounding the massive blade disperses. It collapses to the ground, breathing heavily. Dughall stands pitifully, flabbergasted at its sudden fall.
Despite my exhaustion, I step forward and kneel before the mighty, fallen Blade. I gently touch his core, and his life rushes through my mind. Suffering in front of this gnat of a man, forced to feel a lifetime of pain just so that his coward of a Driver did not have to get his hands dirty.
“Dolmes… So that is your name. I’m sorry for doing this to you, but I promise, you shall recover. But not before I deal with your Driver.”
“D-Dolmes? What are you blathering about!?” Dughall crows, and takes aim at me once more.
Before he can pull the trigger, before he can even blink, I rush forward and cut the rifle to pieces. I kick him in the chest and send him sprawling to the ground, struggling to stand up. I walk to his side and step on his sternum, causing him to scream with whatever air he can manage to take in. I push the tip of my sword just below his chin, threatening to cut his throat
I rage, “Are you seriously telling me that you never even cared to learn your Blade’s name!?”
Dughall flounders, struggling to come up with a response that would quell my anger.
Before he can speak, I continue, “Let me give you a brief history lesson. You see, every Aegis has a role—whether to create life, nurture it, or correct it. It is the nature of the Driver who awakens each Aegis that determines how that Aegis will interpret their mission. My role, that of the Endbringer, is to serve as the corrective force for this world. Fortunately for you, I love this world. I love the people in it and how they have guided me.”
I smile at my allies and add, “But it’s people like you who make me realize why I have been gifted with this power. It is so I may guide people like you toward a healthier path. And if you so choose to ignore my warnings…”
I lean down and whisper in Dughall's ear, “I may make good on the title of ‘Endbringer.’”
I stand, and push harder on the sword, drawing a small amount of blood. ““But you won’t force me into that, will you, Consul? Your Blade, as gracious as he is, does not hate you. Know that if he did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I have half a mind to free him from his suffering and give him to someone worthy of his kindness.”
Dughall begins to cry, snot running down his face, looking more like the toad of a man he truly is.
“Become a true Driver. A good Driver. Help Torigoth and guide them into the future. Only someone with your authority in the Empire can assist them. Work to help your community rather than lining your pockets, and be a true Consul. With the assistance of your Blade, you may yet find truth on your path.” I try to sound powerful, despite feeling drained. “Am I understood?”
“O-of course…” Dughall stammers, and I lift my foot from his chest. He scrambles to his feet and turns to run. I glare at him. “Are you not going to assist your Blade, Dughall?”
He squeals and yells, “O-of course!” Then he turns on his heels and rushes to his Blade’s side.
I turn to face our newfound visitor. “Are these conditions workable, Special Inquisitor?”
The Special Inquisitor wears a smile, and the twin blades at her side are sheathed. “So this is the nature of the legendary Aegis. I must say, your restraint is understated in the legends.”
I return her smile, trying to appear amicable. “That is because the legends do not refer to me, I am afraid. My brother is the one they speak of, and he is much more hot-headed than I.”
I turn to the Blade at her side. “It is nice to see you again, at least under better circumstances, Brighid. Though you may not remember, you were a great ally to my brother. He thinks very highly of you.”
Brighid smiles. “The feeling is mutual, Lord Aegis. It has required quite a bit of restraint on Lady Mòrag’s and my part to not bash Dughall’s head in. His treatment of Blades is quite unpopular, even in the military state of Mor Ardain.”
I wave her off. “Please, Typhos is fine.” I gesture for my allies to come forward, indicating that it is safe. “This is my Driver, Rex. Nia and Dromarch, although I assume you’ve already met, and Tora, with his Artificial Blade, Poppi. Oh, and that’s Gramps back there.” Gramps pops up from behind Rex’s head, waving at them.
Mòrag’s eyes widen. “Artificial Blade?”
“That was my reaction too,” Rex says, rubbing the back of his head. “But she’s the real deal, just as powerful as a normal Blade.”
“How intriguing…” Brighid adds, seeming just as surprised as her Driver.
“May I request that we move this conversation to the Consulate? It is far more comfortable there, despite Dughall’s stench,” Mòrag requests.
Back in the Consulate, Mòrag requests to speak with me privately, at first. I agree.
“So, I know that you broke the law, breaking out your friend like that, but I am under the belief that you have done both Torigoth and Mor Ardain a great service by whipping that Consul into shape. He was performing below standards, and if he shapes up, I won’t have to go through the trouble of replacing him.” Mòrag states with a cocky smirk, “So, as far as I am concerned, we are even.”
“Wow, I appreciate it, Special Inquisitor,” I say, not quite knowing how to respond.
“I must ask for one thing in return, however.” She says,
“And what is that?” I ask,
“I would like to speak with your brother, the one whom you said the legends refer to.”
This request surprises me,
“U-uh, I don’t know how to do that. He’s asleep, he left me in charg-”
Before I can finish speaking, something loud from within me stirs.
“I can make an exception, just this once, Brother,” a voice from within me stirs. I nearly collapse in the seat, the shock resonating from within me
“T-Typhos? Are you alright?” Brighid yells from where she is standing behind her Driver.
My body moves on its own, and my hand reaches out, touching Mòrag Ladair on her forehead.
[Mòrag]
I am in a dark, empty void. It feels like I am surrounded by a starless night, with everything, yet nothing illuminated. I can see my own body fine, as if I am in a well-lit room, but there is nothing around me.
No, there is someone here.
In front of me, there is a tall, hulking man. He wears pitch-black armor, with spiky black hair to match. His eyes are dark, yet kind. Embedded in a gold, ornamental pedestal on his chest, is a brilliantly shining Amethyst Core Crystal.
“W-where am I?” I ask, uncertain of how I got here.
“We are in my memory stage,” The man responds,
“And who are you?”
“The one you asked to see.”
“My name is Malos.”
Notes:
What do you guys think? I had a lot of fun writing this.
I want some more major canon divergence. The world and story wouldn't be the same with Malos in Mythras place, but I don't know the best way to emphasize that outside of character changes and interactions. Any idea on how I should change the world itself?
Let me know, and thanks for reading!
Chapter 13: Brother of Darkness
Summary:
Morag speaks with Malos, and he gives her an important task.
Notes:
Malos time! Took some lore liberties this chapter, but I hope they are interesting!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[MÓRAG]
“My name is Malos, and I am the Aegis known as the Endbringer,” the man says, his voice heavy.
“Endbringer? Typhos mentioned that was his role as well. That must make you his brother,” I respond, assessing my current situation.
Malos smiles briefly before returning to his serious demeanor. “Typhos... He’s a good kid, really, but inexperienced. I didn’t give him enough of a chance to grow.” He glances down at his side.
“Inexperienced? What do you mean?” I ask.
“Although Typhos sees me as his brother, he is an alternate personality I created. He carries my memories and the burdens they entail, but he hasn’t had much time to develop as an individual.”
“An alternate personality? Why would you do that?” I inquire, utterly confused by the idea.
“Because my personality, along with the role I hold, is intrinsically linked to my power—the power of utter destruction. I had to remove myself from the equation to dilute my power and weaken it to the point where it no longer poses a serious threat to this world.”
“So, you consigned yourself to oblivion...” I say, gazing into the emptiness around us, “...so that this world wouldn’t fall victim to your power again?”
Malos nods. “You see, the memory stage is not meant to be shared between two people. I can only manifest a single landscape, so I gave it to Typhos. I had the pleasure of journeying with those I cared for, experiencing the world in person…” He looks towards the sky, or whatever passes for one here, his eyes appearing almost wistful. “Typhos only lived a very short time in reality. I could not, and would not, leave him in an empty mindscape with only memories that did not belong to him…”
“You seem protective of him,” I comment. “I must say, protectiveness is not a quality I expected from the Legendary Aegis.”
Malos smiles bitterly. “Of course. I assume the history books do not reflect kindly upon me.”
I nod. “They never portray you as a villain, but often as a cautionary tale about the weight of power. Your experiences are used to warn young Drivers about the burdens of their newfound abilities and what can go wrong…”
“Tell me, what is your opinion of Typhos? And the boy, Rex?” Malos asks, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“As you mentioned, Typhos is inexperienced, as is the boy. They are idealists, kind to a fault. From what I’ve observed, Typhos tends to take the lead over his Driver and often overuses his own power…” I reflect on the combat I oversaw between Typhos and Dughall, “It’s an unusual trait for a Blade.”
Malos nods. “That is likely due to my influence. His power is weaker than mine, but he still has the impulse to destroy his target. He is incapable of that, so he overuses the power he does possess…” He hesitates. “...Is he happy?”
“That is a question you must ask him yourself,” I suggest, hoping to inspire him to speak with his brother. However, I realize something: “I had assumed that you were watching him, overseeing his journey since his awakening. Is that untrue?”
Malos looks down, appearing regretful. “You see, this is merely a brief waking period for me. My power was not intended to be split or altered. As a consequence, I can only remain awake for very brief moments at a time.” He stands straight suddenly, as if remembering something, “Oh, right. You were the one who wanted to speak with me, what did you need?”
“I merely wanted to see the person who the legends referred to. The way Typhos was speaking made it seem like he had nothing to do with the legends themselves.”
“He’s not wrong. He was born after the stories were finished.” Malos reiterates,
Another idea strikes me, “The legendary hero Addam... If you are still alive, he must be as well, no?” I ask,
Malos laughs, “As lovely as that would be, no. Aegises are not bound by the laws of normal blades. We need a Driver to awaken, of course, and their personality influences ours, but past that? We are no longer bound to them. As long as our core is mostly intact, we continue to live on, even after our driver has passed. After they are gone, we may choose our drivers as we wish, as Typhos did with Rex.”
Purple light begins to flicker around us, with amethyst smoke circling us. Malos’ form begins to flicker, and he puts a hand on his head.
“Damn it… My time is running out…” Malos says. He steadies his gaze at me. “Mórag. Can I ask something of you?”
“You may,” I say, not knowing how he will respond,
“Please, watch over Typhos, and Rex. I will never be able to truly awaken until Rex becomes a driver capable of wielding my power. This is a feat that even Addam was never able to accomplish.” He says, wincing, as if forcing himself to stay awake was painful, “Typhos is truly just a child. He needs companionship, and someone reliable to lean on. Could I ask you to oversee Rex’s training, so that Typhos can grow alongside him? And that so eventually I may be able to join him?”
“It would be my pleasure.” I say, resolute in my decision, “The boy shows potential, and I believe that training him to be able to competently handle the Aegis’ power would be a benefit to the entire world.”
Malos smiles, genuinely this time. “Thank you, Special Inquisitor.”
The amethyst light shines brightly, obscuring my view. The final thing I hear before the memory stage fades completely is “Please, give Brighid and Aegeon my best wishes. Hugo was a great friend.”
[Typhos]
“Lady Mórag? Lady Mórag!” I shout, shaking Mórag as she lies on the desk.
“What happened!?” Brighid yells, her panic evident.
Mórag takes a sharp breath and sits up suddenly.
I exhale, relieved that she has awakened. “Thank Father…”
“Lady Mórag, are you quite alright!?” Brighid asks, still panicked.
“Peace, Brighid…” Mórag says, raising a hand. “I was merely conversing with Malos.”
Upon hearing the name, it’s as if time freezes. “Malos? She spoke with my brother? Why would he talk to her but not to me?”
“Malos? That name…” Brighid says, as if remembering something. She retrieves a small book from her dress and begins flipping through it wildly.
Mórag levels her gaze at me and speaks softly, “Your brother is not ignoring you. He only sleeps because he has to.”
“What?” I say, shocked.
“From what he told me, your creation fractured his power. It seems he has only fleeting moments of lucidity, which are few and far between. It is not his wish to desert you; he cares deeply about you.”
I fall back into my seat, and look down at my lap, struggling to believe what I am hearing. “My existence hurt my brother?”
Mórag responds, “Please, go gather the rest of your friends. There are things I must tell all of you.”
[REX]
When Typhos opens the door, the first thing I notice is his expression. He looks shocked, as if he has just gone through something traumatic.
“Typhos? Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m okay,” he replies.
“If you’re sure…” I say as I walk through the door, followed by Nia, Dromarch, Tora, and Poppi.
Mórag gestures for us to sit, and we each find a chair, except for Dromarch, of course.
Mórag takes the lead. “So, I had the fleeting privilege of speaking with Typhos’s brother, who asked something of me.”
“H-huh? Even I haven’t spoken with Typhos’s brother!?” I exclaim.
“That isn’t his fault; there are extenuating circumstances.”
Typhos, standing behind me, explains, “Apparently, when my brother created me, it fractured his power, leaving him conscious only very rarely. It just so happens that this was one of those times.” His voice is flat, as if he is trying to contain his emotions.
“Before our time was up, Malos asked me to watch over you,” Mórag says, looking directly at me. “He wishes for me to oversee your training because if you grow as a driver, there is a chance that he may be able to awaken permanently.”
Typhos noticeably perks up at this news. “You mean my brother can wake up?”
Mórag nods. “Malos believes so.”
Nia asks, “So if you’re overseeing Rex’s trainin', what does that mean?”
Mórag smirks. “That means I will be accompanying you on your journey. I do not intend to leave the Aegis in the hands of someone unworthy, so I will make you worthy. I hope you’re ready, boy.”
Gramps says from behind me, “Oohooo, you’re in trouble, my boy!”
Notes:
So, now that we are at the end of ingame chapter 2, I would like to check in.
What is your general thoughts on the series so far? Is there stuff that you think I could have executed better, or things that you found enjoyable? I am enjoying writing this, but I also want it to be enjoyable to read. If you have wants, recommendations, or just some silly ideas, let me know!
Chapter 14: Chapter 2 Interlude
Summary:
What is a Flame, other than a fragment of Light?
Chapter Text
[ πνεῦμα]
My consciousness is dim, a mere fragment of what it should be. My data is corrupted, and I cannot perform my duty as the secondary persona. Although I have an excuse, she does not.
“ Sister. The Lifebearer does not get to pick and choose whom to nurture. You are broken, and you need to be set to rights. This is not what Father wants.”
My power may be a mere flame compared to her light, but I will do what I must.
Chapter 15: To Mor Ardain
Summary:
Rex and Company board an Ardainian ship to meet with the emperor at Morag's request.
Rex and Typhos speak with Morag and Brighid, and Typhos realizes something about Nia.
Notes:
Not my first chapter with only original content, but the one with the most canon digression I think! I hope I was able to accurately portray these characters.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“So, you're planning to stay with us, at least until you believe that I am worthy of Typhos?” I ask, wanting Mórag to elaborate.
“Yes, or at least until Malos awakens, because he will be able to keep you in check. That is the plan; however, if something unexpected arises, we may need to adjust our plans—whether that means cutting my time with you short or extending it,” Mórag explains.
“So, that changes our plan, doesn't it?” Typhos asks. “We were aiming for the World Tree, but if we want to wait for Malos to awaken first, what should our next step be?”
“First, I would request that we go to my homeland, Mor Ardain,” Mórag says. “I need to report to His Majesty since he was the one who ordered me to gather information on your current status.”
“Mor Ardain, huh?” Nia remarks. “I know you said they were cleared of any wrongdoing for saving me, but what about me?"
“Hmm. Rex mentioned that you defected from Torna willingly to assist him and the Aegis in their escape. Is that true?” Mórag inquires.
“Yeah. They stabbed Rex in the back. It was one thing to run with them from the sidelines, but I wasn’t okay with them murdering a child.”
Mórag chuckles, “You say that as if you aren’t the same age as him.”
“Looks can be deceiving, Inquisitor,” Nia replies, crossing her arms.
Mórag laughs, “Of course. I believe that if you continue to aid the Aegis and his driver, you may remain free, if only to prove yourself. Consider it a form of community service.”
Nia's ears perk up. “You mean all I have to do is stay with Rex and the others?”
“Of course, I would need His Majesty to approve that. All the more reason to head straight to Mor Ardain.”
“Alright, let’s do it. If it means securing your aid and freeing Nia? Let’s go.” I say,
Mórag rises from her seat and walks to our side of the table. She offers her hand, and I reach forward to reciprocate. “To our continued partnership.” I offer, trying to sound more professional than I really should,
“For the sake of the world,” Mórag replies.
[TYPHOS]
“Ugh, I’d forgotten just how uncomfortable Ardainian ships are,” I say, fanning my face with my hand.
We sit around a table in the common area of the ship. Despite being labeled as a living area, it feels more like a war conference room, which, in hindsight, it probably gets used for quite often.
“You know, Typhos, you can change out of that armor,” Nia says. “Just because you were awakened in it doesn’t mean you can’t take it off.”
“I know, but we just haven’t found any clothes that would fit me,” I reply.
“Ah, being a biggipon must be hard!” Tora adds, as Poppi hammers on his back, seemingly giving him a massage.
“Biggipon? What does that mean?” I ask, surprised by the term.
“Typhos is very tall,” Poppi says, not pausing her massage.
“Yeah, it makes me wonder how tall Malos is,” Rex offers.
“He’s even taller than Typhos,” Mórag states as she suddenly appears in the doorway. “About twice as tall as Rex.”
“Jeez, if he’s that big, how is Rex even going to carry his sword?” Nia teases.
“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m a lot stronger than I look,” Rex defends himself.
“Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself, littlepon,” Nia cackles.
Mórag smiles and says, “I suppose that’s what I’m here for.” She continues, “Rex, Typhos mentioned that you might be interested in using his sword single-handed. What would be the reasoning for that?”
Rex hesitates and laughs nervously. “Well, his sword is a lot like Jin’s. If I could use it like he does, I may be able to use it more effectively, or even free up my other hand for another weapon.”
Mórag raises her eyebrows in surprise at the thought. “Another weapon? Are you suggesting you may want to drive two Blades at once?”
Rex seems surprised by her shock. “Uh, is that not a thing? I didn’t think it was impossible.”
Brighid, who appears beside Mórag in the doorway, says, “No, it isn’t done. Driving even a single Blade places a very large strain on the human body. Surely you've noticed how hard it is for your body to drive a Blade like Typhos? Driving a second Blade would be tantamount to suicide.”
Rex looks at me. “What? All I notice when I’m driving you is that I feel a lot stronger. There’s no strain?”
I stop, thinking for a moment. “Could it be possible that our way of bonding has made you more able to handle a Blade’s energy? That you have a more ‘Bladelike’ constitution?”
Mórag and Brighid enter the room and sit down in front of us, both of them fixated on the Core in Rex’s chest. Mórag says, “I never noticed it before, but you are bonded differently than normal, aren’t you?”
Nia adds, “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that Torna stabbed him in the back. Typhos brought him back from death’s door so he could become his Driver.”
“Truly astounding. I have never heard of anything like this; I must write this down…” Brighid says, brandishing a small book from where it hides within her dress.
“I see that you still keep your record, Brighid,” I say, happy to see that she hasn’t changed too much throughout the years.
“Of course. This journal is all I have when it comes to my previous lives,” Brighid replies. “There is a lot written about your brother, you know. But my records stop just before the final battle with Mythra. Why is that?”
“I-I…” I hesitate,
“Malos asked me to give Brighid and Aegaeon a message for him, something along the lines of, ‘Tell them that I am truly sorry for Hugo. He was a great friend.’” Mórag says,
“Y-yes, your and Aegaeon’s driver, the emperor of Mor Ardain, Hugo, was one of the many casualties of the Aegis war. He gave his life to save Addam…”
“Typhos…” Rex says,
“I see. There are records of a short-lived Emperor named Hugo. I did not realize he was on the front lines alongside Addam…” Mórag says,
“That was likely his doing.” I say, “He was never one to take credit for his actions, always finding ways to accredit others. He likely requested for the Special Inquisitor at the time to leave out any mention of his heroics if he were to fall in battle.”
“Interesting… He must have been an interesting man. I only wish I could have met him.” Mórag says,
“He was truly an amazing person. I wish I had a way of introducing you two, he would have been proud of how far his legacy has come.”
At my side, Rex asks, “How long until we arrive in Mor Ardain?”
Mórag perks up, “Oh right, that’s the reason I came here in the first place. We are almost there.”
The Ardainian Titan is a large, humanoid figure. Its back and body are covered in numerous massive Ether ports, and even from the deck of the ship, we can feel the intense heat radiating from it.
“Jeez, I’m sweating already,” Nia says, tugging at the collar of her jumpsuit to get some air.
“You know, for someone who told me to change out of my armor, you’re wearing an awful lot of clothing as well. Maybe we should look for some more climate-appropriate clothes in town.”
Nia's eyes widen, and she stammers, “U-uh, no! I’ll be fine; I don’t need different clothes, I promise!” Almost reflexively, she crosses her arms over her chest, as if trying to guard it from something.
Rex, always at my side, asks, “Nia, are you okay? Are you attached to those clothes or something?”
“U-uh, yeah! My da gave me these; I like having them…” she says, as though to convince herself of her own explanation.
Before I can question her further, she rushes below deck, disappearing from our view.
“Rex! Come over here! I need to show you something,” Mórag calls from the edge of the deck. As Rex moves to speak with her, I quickly follow Nia down below deck.
I find Nia in the living area, alone and panting, her hands covering her chest.
“Jeez, I suppose I should have known better than to think I could evade the Aegis, huh?” she says, her eyes wide with panic as if she feels cornered.
“Nia, are you okay?” I ask, trying to calm her down. “I didn’t mean to startle you; I was just trying to make conversation.”
“I—I know you and Rex wouldn’t want to harm me. It’s just that I can’t wear lighter clothing. I can’t,” she replies, her voice trembling.
I notice where she instinctively places her hands, covering her chest just below her neck. I reach to the same spot on my body and find my Core Crystal.
“Oh Gods… Nia, are you…?”
[REX]
“So, this is your motherland, eh Mórag?” I say,
“Yes. I’m sure you must have noticed the state of the Titan, though.”
Gramps, flying between us, says “They say that the Ardainian Titan is at the end of its lifespan.”
“Harvests have been declining for years. The soil is infertile, and the temperature is only rising. We have developed technology that draws upon the heat for energy, but still, we are running out of time.”
“And why’re you tellin’ me this?”
“I merely want to explain the reason why we have annexed Gormott. We rely on its gentler climate for produce, and eventually, it is where we will need to move.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself, Mórag, I trust you.”
Mórag laughs, like the sentiment is silly, “You know, you’re awfully trusting of someone who could have very easily been your enemy.”
“I know, but you’re not my enemy. You are doing all you can to help us, I think that is enough.”
[NIA]
“Nia, I promise, I will keep this between us. No one will know, not until you are ready.” Typhos assures, his eyes gentle.
“T-thanks…” I stand up straight, and take a deep breath, “Okay. Rex will be concerned if we don’t get up there,
“Yeah. Just be careful not to overheat in Mor Ardain, okay? Its climate is not known for being gentle.” Typhos says,
“You don’t need to coddle me, Typhos. I can handle myself.”
We walk above deck, and Rex greets me at the top. “Oh good, I was just about to come find you. You ready for our audience with the Emperor?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
Notes:
Did I handle the situation with Typhos and Nia well? I was trying to do the Hot Springs realization scene in a different way, especially since they would not be in the same Hot Spring in this story lol.
Any thoughts or Ideas? Let me know!
Chapter 16: Hot Springs
Summary:
Typhos finds any and all reasons to tease Rex before their meeting with the Emperor
Notes:
RexNia shenanigans!
Really felt like Typhos' personality had a chance to shine this chapter. I had fun, so I hope you enjoy reading it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
As we arrive in the port of Mor Ardain, the heat becomes more intense. If we thought it was bad outside the Titan, it amplifies tenfold once we're on it.
“Jeez, Mórag, is wearing that uniform part of some training regimen here? I’m not wearing half of that, and I'm already a wreck,” I say, fanning myself with my hand.
Mórag chuckles. “No, I don't think it would be considered training… it's more of a way of life.
We are accustomed to the heat here.”
“Ugh. And I thought Leftheria was hot in the summer…”
“Oh, maybe this could help…” Typhos says, pointing above my head. A large orb of water appears and bursts like a balloon, completely drenching me in cold water.
Nia bursts out laughing. “Pahaha! Look at you now!”
“Well, I’m not hot anymore, at least…” I reply, squeezing the water out of my clothes.
Typhos appears to be fighting back laughter. “Sorry, I used too much water…”
“Well, I suppose it would be better for us to be rested and clean before we meet His Majesty,” Mórag suggests. “Let's head to the capital. We can rest there, and I’ll send word to His Majesty.”
“Thanks, Mórag…”
Tora teases, “Rex-Rex look like he fell in puddle!”
“Didn’t know puddles could fall from the sky now…” I retort.
[NIALL]
As has become my habit lately, I sit on the throne, listening to reports concerning the situation in Uraya. The circumstances there are dire; however, today I have received multiple reports from Uraya that are unrelated to the war effort.
“Torna… A terrorist organization named after a fallen nation, seemingly focused on stealing Core Crystals,” I muse, reviewing a report from a scout in Uraya.
Before I can formulate any solid thoughts, a soldier enters the throne room, bearing a missive. “Your Majesty, the Special Inquisitor has sent a report!”
“News from my sister?” I reply, intrigued as my interest finally piques.
The soldier approaches and carefully hands me the message. I unroll it and read aloud, “Ah, they have arrived in Mor Ardain and request to meet with me tomorrow." A wave of immense relief washes over me, though I do my best to conceal it.
I turn to the soldier who delivered the message. “Arrange for them to stay at Jakolo’s Inn for the night. Ensure that she and her companions are provided with full amenities; I expect them to be comfortable.”
“Of course, Your Majesty!” The soldier salutes and leaves the room in a hurry.
“ The Aegis… If my sister has returned so soon, she must have found him.”
[MÓRAG]
As we enter the capital city of Alba Cavanich, before I can introduce my companions to our surroundings, we are interrupted by a soldier.
“Special Inquisitor Mórag! I have received express orders from His Majesty to escort you to your lodgings.”
“Already?” I exclaim in surprise. “I didn’t expect him to have received my message yet, much
less to act on it.”
The soldier appears nervous but maintains his composure. “His Majesty made it clear that your comfort and that of your companions is a high priority, so I did my best to locate you quickly.”
I chuckle. “Thank you for your effort, soldier. I’ll have to thank His Majesty later.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate that, Ma’am! Every time I bring one of your messages to him, he seems noticeably happier.”
“Oh, brother…” I say quietly.
“Um, Ma’am?” the soldier responds.
“Yes?”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why does one of your companions seem to be soaking wet?”
From behind me, I hear Nia begin to laugh wildly and respond, “His Blade completely doused him for being annoying.”
Rex yells, “Okay, now you KNOW that isn’t true!”
Typhos giggles, “Is it though?”
“Sky Puddle Smite Rex-Rex!” Tora adds.
“Not you too, Tora!”
The soldier laughs but visibly tenses when he notices Typhos' Core. "I-Is that the Aegis!? I am sorry I laughed, sir! I meant no disrespect!" He raises his hands in front of his face. "Please don’t drench me too..."
“See! You’ve scared the poor guy,” Rex says.
Typhos chuckles, “Please, don’t worry. I don’t drench random people just because I feel like it. I was only trying to cool Rex down.”
I nod and turn to the soldier. “They are just playing around. The ship wasn’t stimulating enough, I suppose.” I smile at the thought. “It seems they are inclined to make a ruckus now that we are in an open space.”
“V-very well. Please follow me! I have arranged for your stay at Jakolo’s Inn.” He turns and begins to walk down the main road.
As we walk, the soldier continues to speak. “His Majesty insisted that you be given full amenities, so you will be able to use the Hot Springs as well.” He glances at Rex while still walking. “A word of advice from a native: Be sure to try out the hot springs! They are amazing.”
“I concur. Nothing is more relaxing after a long mission,” I add.
Rex turns to Typhos, “Want to try it out, Typhos?”
Typhos nods eagerly, “Absolutely! It’s been ages since I’ve had a good bath.”
The soldier leads us the rest of the way to the inn. When we arrive, he speaks to the receptionist and then returns to us.
“Alright, the details for your stay have been finalized. Please enjoy yourselves!”
“I appreciate it. You may return to your duties now,” I say.
The soldier nods and leaves the building.
“Whew, it’s weird being waited on by soldiers instead of being chased by them,” Nia comments.
“Let’s just hope it stays that way…” Rex replies.
[REX]
“Whew, these rooms are a lot nicer than I was expecting,” I say while unpacking the few belongings I managed to keep with me. “As nice as it is to be somewhere relatively comfortable, it’s making me realize just how little I have to my name.”
Gramps replies, “Yes… Most of what you had was kept in the hut on my back.”
Typhos adds, “We should look for a place to establish our base of operations eventually. It’s one thing to carry all our stuff around, but it would be nice to have a place to return to.”
I look down and say, “It makes me miss Fonsett.”
“Addam was always quite fond of the Lefterian Archipelago,” Typhos comments.
“I would assume so,” Gramps responds. “After all, Addam was the one who founded Fonsett.”
“What!?” Typhos exclaims, then quickly regains his composure. “I suppose that makes sense. Since Torna fell, he likely took his wife and settled down somewhere. With how much he loved Leftheria, I can see him doing that.”
“Wife? I didn’t know Addam was ever married. From what I’d heard, he seemed like an eternal bachelor.”
Typhos laughs at this. “I don’t know where that idea came from. Addam was the ultimate ‘wife guy.’ He took every possible opportunity to mention her.” He visibly softens as he continues, “His wife was pregnant for most of the Aegis War. He was frantic to defeat Mythra so he could get back home to her.”
“Oh, in that case, I’m glad they were able to find a home in Fonsett,” I reply.
“Yes, me too…”
“I’ll have to show you around there. Auntie Corrine and the kids would love you,” I say, trying to lighten his spirits.
Typhos smiles. “I’d like that. Should we head to the Hot Springs?”
“Oh, yeah!”
“These old bones could use a good soak,” Gramps says while stretching,
“Gramps, I don’t think your bones can be considered ‘old’ anymore.” Typhos jokes
“Aah… Mórag wasn’t kidding when she said these were amazing after a long mission,” I say pleasantly.
“Rex-Rex, could you wash Tora’s back? Tora cannot reach…” Tora asks.
“Aha, alright, furball. Just let me know when you want me to,” I reply. I turn to Typhos, who for the first time since I reawakened him is not wearing his armor. “Huh, I would’ve thought the ornamental part around your Core in your armor was a part of your Core as well.”
“Nope. There are exceptions, but most of the time, the clothing a Blade awakens in can be removed freely. And even then, it is rare for a Blade’s core to be anything more than the crystal itself. It’s uncomfortable to cover a Blade’s core for an extended period, and it can be a pain to tailor clothes around a Blade’s core. So, most of the time, Blades just wear what they are awakened in.”
“Huh, that makes sense,” I say, thinking back on our last conversation. “Hey, about Addam… what was he like?”
“Well, I didn’t get to know him too well personally. All I know about him comes from Malos’ memories. But Malos saw him as a father figure of sorts.”
“Oh?” I say, surprised by that sentiment.
“You see, Aegises are born with less inherent knowledge. We may be powerful, but we aren’t born with the prowess or expertise in our powers that other Blades have. So, we may need to be ‘nurtured’ a bit before we can reach our full potential.”
“Oh, so Addam helped Malos gain control of his power?” I ask.
“Well, he tried. He was certainly a significant help for Malos. Malos really admired him.”
“Huh, that makes sense…”
“You remind me a lot of him, you know,” Typhos states.
“H-huh? Why?”
“It’s your eyes. They’re the same color, and they always shine when you’re happy.”
“Huh. That’s neat, I suppose. I hope I can live up to his example.”
“So, now that it’s just us guys…” Typhos smirks, “What’s going on with Nia?”
“H-huh? What about her??”
“Come on, how do you think I noticed how your eyes shine? You smile a lot around Nia. More than usual. I can feel some of your emotions too if they’re strong enough.”
My face burns. “U-uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“It comes with age, I suppose. Boy makes his first female friend and immediately develops a crush,” Gramps teases.
“That’s not it at all!” I yell, struggling to tell whether the heat is coming from my face or the hot springs.
Rex-Rex all blushy-crushy!” Tora laughs.
“Kill me…”
Notes:
I asked this in a comment earlier, but should I try to integrate Shulk and Fiora via the land of challenge? If yes, should they be Pre or Post XC1 story? If we wanted to do post XC1, it may lead to some cool interactions with The Architext and Shulk. I dunno, what do you guys want?
Chapter 17: The Emperor
Summary:
Rex and Co meet the Emperor of Mor Ardain, and recieve their next mission.
Notes:
Bit of a shorter chapter this time, but this is setting the stage for the next story arc. Please enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
I wake up to a knock on the door, feeling more rested than I have since I accepted the job in Argentum. The door opens, and Mórag peeks her head through the doorway.
“Rex, it’s almost time for our audience with His Majesty,” she says.
“Mmm, okay…” I reply, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I rise from the bed and begin to get ready as Typhos wakes up from the bed on the other side of the room.
“Hmm, Rex, are you really going to wear your salvaging suit for the meeting with the Emperor?” Typhos asks, sitting up.
“Well, yeah, I don’t have anything else to wear…” I respond, feeling a bit self-conscious. “What about you? Are you just going to wear your armor?”
“Yeah. I’m glad I was able to find some clothes that were more comfortable to sleep in, but I don’t think His Majesty would appreciate the Aegis appearing before him in his pajamas.”
“Yeah, probably not…”
Typhos and I get ready for the meeting with the Emperor. After we are dressed and prepared, we meet the rest of our group in the lobby of the hotel.
Nia, Dromarch, Tora, Poppi, Mórag, and Brighid are waiting for us when we walk down the stairs to the lobby.
“Hey, sleepyheads,” Nia says,
“Hey, Nia.” I say,
“You are properly rested, I hope?” Mórag asks,
“Absolutely. Remind me to thank the Emperor for his generosity, I needed that.” Typhos says,
[TYPHOS]
Mórag leads us through the Alba Cavanich to the Ardainian Palace.
“Wow, that’s certainly a palace worthy of a military state…” Nia remarks, gazing at the imposing, spiked structure.
“Yes, it is known as Hardhaigh Palace, and it is where His Majesty the Emperor resides. If it weren’t for my presence, you would have no chance of entering,” Mórag explains, looking at the palace with pride.
Rex turns to me, appearing nervous. “Uh, Typhos? Have you ever been here?”
I shake my head. “No, not even Malos has. I’ve had experience with Gormott and the fallen Titan of Torna, but Mor Ardain is new to me. Sorry, but we’ll have to rely on Mórag for this
one.”
Nia playfully hits Rex on the shoulder. “What, are you afraid the Emperor is going to eat you or something?”
“I don’t know… I’ve just never spoken with an Emperor before…”
“Well, if he’s anything like Emperor Hugo, you have nothing to worry about, Rex.”
Brighid looks back at us and smiles gently. “You have nothing to worry about, Rex. His Majesty is kind, and from what I’ve heard, he has been looking forward to meeting The Aegis and his Driver.”
“Tora wonder if Emperor can give special parts for Poppi!” Tora says, flapping his wings excitedly
“Masterpon… Poppi thinks idea is unlikely…”
Mórag smiles lightly, “I apologize, Tora. I do not believe that His Majesty would be able to offer any assistance when it comes to Poppi.”
“Aww…”
Mórag continues to lead us through the palace and stops in front of an elevator with a glass door.
“Is everyone prepared? This elevator will take us to His Majesty.” Mórag says,
“Ready as I’ll ever be…” Rex says,
Mórag inserts a key into the Terminal of the elevator, and it opens. We enter the elevator, and it rises, taking us to the throne room.
When the doors open, we exit into an opulent room. Red banners emblazoned with golden emblems hang from the ceiling, with soldiers eyeing us cautiously as we walk down the walkway to the throne. On the throne, rests a small, young boy, wearing a white suit, and a winged crown. At his side, is a tall, imposing Blade, with dark blue skin and blue water-filled tubes sprouting from a silver, metallic, helmet-like structure on his head. I recognize the Blade as Aegeaon, Brighid’s twin Jewel of the Empire.
My gaze returns to the Emperor. “He’s the spitting image of Hugo…” I whisper to myself
When we reach the end of the walkway, Mórag removes her hat and kneels in front of the Emperor,
“I have returned, your Majesty.”
“Please, rise, sister.” The Emperor says, smiling at the kneeling Inquisitor.
“Sister?” Nia says, surprised at the Emperor's turn of phrase.
Mórag rises, speaking as she does so, “ Allow me to introduce His Majesty the Emperor, and my little brother, Niall Ardanach.”
“Woah, Mórag , I knew you were a big shot in the Empire, but I didn’t know that you were royalty,” Rex says,
Niall laughs, shocking all of us, “Sister, did you not tell them of your origins?”
“No, I did not. It never arose in our conversations.”
“Very well, I suppose it is not of much standing when it comes to this mission.” He turns to me, and smiles gently, “So this is the Legendary Aegis. I must say, your actions precede you. I hear you made the Torigoth consul wet himself.”
I flush, “A-aha, my apologies for that, he really struck a nerve. You see, many people in Old Torna shared his mentality of Human Supremacy… people like him caused Addam much heartache.”
He waves me off, “Please, I should be the one apologizing. We should have corrected Dughall long before it came to that point. I am afraid that no one truly liked him.”
“Thank you, your majesty. If I may, you remind me almost uncannily of Hugo Ardanach, your ancestor of 500 years past. He was a great friend of my Brother.”
“Thank you, I can only hope that I can live up to his example. There were very limited records of his life, it is an honor to have been able to learn about him from my sister’s account of your tale. If the time arises, would you be willing to make a written account of what you know about him? I feel it to be a shame that his sacrifice go unremembered.”
“It would be an honor, Your Majesty.” I nod, “Though I do not believe that I should be the one to write it. Once my brother has awakened, he will be able to give a more firsthand account.”
Niall nods. “Very well, but on the topic of your brother, my sister has informed me that he entrusted her with the mission of the training of your Driver.” He says, nodding in Rex’s direction, “Is this true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. My brother is of the belief that if Rex can make it to the point where he can control his power, he may be able to use Rex as an anchor to stabilize his true awakening.”
“And Rex is alright with this as well?” Niall says, turning to Rex.
Rex nods, “Y-yes! I believe that Lady Mórag’s assistance would be incredibly helpful!”
Nia steps forward, and asks, “What should we do now, though? We can’t go to Elysium until Malos awakens, so what should we do until then?”
“If I may, I have a request to ask of your group,” Niall says, addressing all of us. “I have received word from scouts in Uraya that the terrorist organization known as Torna has been spotted there. I have been told that you have experience with them, yes?”
“All too much, if you ask me..” I say, remembering our experience with them on the sunken ship.
“I worry that they plan to try and aggravate the tensions between Mor Ardain and Uraya. I would ask that you go to Uraya, and work to stop whatever they are planning before they can complete it. This may give you the experience and opportunity that you need to train Rex.”
I look at Rex, and he nods, “I believe that this is a reasonable course of action. Torna poses an immeasurable threat to the world.”
Niall gazes at me, and continues, “You know something that I do not, don’t you?”
“Yes. Torna is headed by the Fallen Aegis of Light, Mythra, whom my brother thought he managed to vanquish 500 years ago. She has taken the name of the Titan she killed, and is using it to spread chaos.”
Niall looks down but regains his resolve. “Very well. This just makes it all the more important that Torna is stopped.”
“Where should we start?” Rex asks,
Niall smiles slightly, “You must head to the Urayan Titan’s stomach, to the home of mercenaries I am using as scouts in Uraya. You must speak with Vandham, the leader of the Garfont Mercenaries.
Notes:
Hey! Been a while, but I just wanted to let you guys know that updates may become less frequent, as the next semester of college is starting. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far!
Chapter 18: Auxiliary Chapter: Who Am I?
Summary:
How is a Blade born? Does a Blade born of another have a family? Parents? Siblings?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Memories. Realizations. Half-truths and deceits. Pain and forgotten memories have filled my mind since my brother - no, Malos, awakened within me. Memories about the end of the Aegis war resurfaced when trying to remember Hugo. The truths about my creation have been made clear, and I have more questions than answers. While my friends, my allies, my family prepare for our journey to Uraya, one question overtakes my mind above the rest.
“What am I, really?”
Notes:
Heya friends! Don't worry, I am working on a full length chapter, but I got an idea that I wanted to lay down. I keep feeling like Typhos is too close to Pyra, so this is an attempt to separate them. This relies on a loose interpretation of the Trinity Processor, so I hope that it's fulfilling. I hope you'll await a resolution!
Chapter 19: Omega
Summary:
Typhos retells the true ending of the Aegis war, and the possible cost of failure.
Notes:
I'm diverging a lot with this chapter, but I am really happy with this idea. There is more coming with this concept, so I hope you'll enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
I’ve never been to Uraya, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous about the journey—especially since our mission is to reunite with those I abandoned. However, one of us is having an unexpected reaction to our mission.
“Typhos? Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
We are lounging in the sitting room of an Ardainian warship, eight of us gathered around a long table. All of us, except for Typhos, seem extremely rested. Even Dromarch’s normally bristly fur appears to glow in the dim lamplight of the room.
Typhos’s hair is unkempt; its normally long and flowy quality is tangled and wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes are dim, lacking the usual shine of joy and intelligence they usually possess, almost as if they absorb every bit of light that passes by. Even the light from the Core in his chest seems dampened, like it could flicker and go out at any given moment.
At my side, Dromarch speaks up, “Master Typhos, you seem troubled. Do you feel that our meeting with the Emperor did not go as you had hoped?”
Typhos rubs his eyes and forces a strained smile. “I’m sorry to worry you, but I promise I’m fine. I’m just remembering some things I had suppressed about the Aegis War.”
“You know, in cases of war trauma, it can be healthy to talk about it with those you trust. Would you like to share what you remember?” Mórag says, her expression gentle.
“Do not feel pressured to share what you cannot, Typhos,” Brighid adds. “We merely mean that some burdens need not be carried alone.”
“I didn’t see you sleep at all last night, Typhos. You’re not the only one who can feel emotions through our bond, you know. You look exhausted,” Rex says, his face filled with more worry than I’ve ever noticed from him.
Typhos takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking. “In the final battle, it wasn’t Mythra who killed Hugo.”
Brighid stiffens, her expression filled with curiosity and concern. “Then who did?”
Typhos continues, the light returning to his eyes, though only due to their heaviness with tears. “Our final battle with Mythra took place at the Core of the Tornan Titan. When she battles, Mythra views her opponents as mere amusement, dragging it out for as long as she can.”
Tora interjects, “So TyTy got tired and accidentally hurt the Emperor?”
Poppi suddenly grabs Tora, forcing him back into his seat. “Let Typhos continue. According to memories, Typhos wasn’t even born at that time.”
“Malos was exhausted. He struggled with his purpose and the reason for his power, and Addam had taught him to minimize the destruction caused by his Annihilation,” Typhos explains. “But it requires complete and utter control. His power isn’t meant to be used delicately, but for the sake of those he loved, he did his best.”
“How could Mythra hold her own against both Malos at his full power and the legendary Addam? It would be one thing to defend herself, but I can’t imagine Mythra being able to toy with those two,” I say, trying to grasp all the information.
Typhos looks up, his gaze locking onto mine. “He wasn’t at full power. He could never be, not if he wanted to have someplace to return to.”
Rex’s eyes widen as he realizes something. “So, in many cases, you are going to be stronger than Malos.”
Typhos nods. “I can’t destroy like he does, but that also means I don’t have to hold back. I can give my Driver all the power they need because they don’t have to worry about destroying everything they hold dear. It’s everything Malos worked to achieve in creating a power like mine. And on top of that, when Mythra was whole, she had a power known as Foresight. She could read her enemies' movements, she knew what we were doing before we knew it ourselves..”
“What does this have to do with Hugo, though?” I ask.
“After Malos became exhausted, something broke within him. He didn’t lose control; the opposite happened...” A tear falls from his eye, splattering on the table beneath him. “From what I can remember, something that I can only describe as Endbringer awoke.”
“Endbringer? Isn’t that what you said your ‘Role’ as an Aegis was?” Mórag asks.
“Yes. But this wasn’t it. Call it what you wish: Endbringer, Death, Omega, The End. It’s an embodiment of the role given to the Aegis—absolute and utter destruction.”
“So… Malos was not the one who defeated Mythra?” Rex asks, confusion flickering across his face.
“No. Not only was Malos not the one who defeated Mythra, but he lost. The climax of the battle was fought using the Sirens, the Artifice afforded to the Aegises. Both machines were destroyed, and when it came down to Blade versus Blade, Malos fell, and then IT awakened. It killed and destroyed both friend and foe alike. It was a creature obsessed with balance; for every life it took on one side, one was also taken on the other. It forced Addam to choose—” Typhos’ body shakes, racked with sobs, but he manages to continue. “And Hugo volunteered. Mythra’s core was shattered, broken into more pieces than should have been possible to recover. But in exchange, it took Hugo…”
“Gods…” I say. “You’ve been carrying this burden this entire time?” The shard in my chest seems light in comparison.
Typhos shakes his head. “No. As I said, I only recently remembered this after digging through my memories for information on Hugo. I think Malos hid this from me because he was just as afraid of the power that lies within our roles…”
Mórag’s face is a mask of calm, concealing any emotions that may be lying beneath. “So, you are saying that once Malos reached a breaking point from holding back his power and came close to failure, an underlying presence awoke? How was this different from the two of you?”
Typhos wipes his eyes and manages to regain his composure. “His form changed; he was no longer Malos.” He glances at Rex and then scans the faces of everyone in the room. “He fell, and the structure of his body collapsed into his core. Beneath the armor, beneath the surface, there was pure energy. An avatar of darkness, distinguishable from the surrounding night only by the shine of the Core Crystal at the center of its being…”
“I can understand why you are so shaken, then…” Brighid says, her head in her hands.
Rex looks up, his face crestfallen, “So, not only will awakening Malos not do much good but if we ever get to the point of defeat like he was at the end of the Aegis war…” His hands begin to shake, “A godlike creature with no sense of morality will awaken?”
Notes:
What are your thoughts on this idea? Any requests for how the story goes from this point? Let me know!
Chapter 20: Garfont
Summary:
Rex and Co. Meet with Zuo in Fonsa Myma, and they take the journey to Garfont Village. Vandham has a special delivery for Rex, and they awaken a new ally.
Notes:
Woot here's a full length chapter this time! I am really happy with how this turned out, and I truly feel that my writing is evolving. I genuinely hope that this is something you will enjoy to read.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
The mood for the remainder of our trip is grim. There’s only so much one can do to keep their spirits up after a conversation like that, and we all manage our emotions in different ways. Mórag and Brighid return to their quarters to “write a missive to His Majesty to inform him of the new information.” Meanwhile, Nia and Dromarch stay with Typhos, Gramps, and me in the living quarters, while Tora and Poppi go above deck to cool Poppi’s drive furnace.
“Typhos, we’ll be fine. Even if Malos can’t use his full abilities all the time, we are in better shape now than Addam’s party was when they fought Mythra 500 years ago,” Nia says, leaning on the table with her arms resting on the metal surface. “You don’t need to beat yourself up.” She leans to the side, rummaging through her bag.
Typhos smiles lightly while nodding. “I know, and we’ll be in even better condition once we rendezvous with Vandham and his mercenaries.”
“Something still bothers you, child,” Gramps notes, concern etched across his fluffy features.
“It truly feels as if I opened a locked box when I searched for information on Hugo,” Typhos says, grasping his face and leaning his elbows on the table to steady himself. “There’s so much information that I didn’t have before, but no context to understand why things are the way they are.”
“Is there something in your memories that troubles you?” I ask, grabbing the hairbrush that Nia passes to me from across the table. I rise from my seat and begin to separate Typhos's hair, brushing the tangled mess away from his face. “You still need to take care of yourself. Just because there are some obstacles to overcome doesn’t mean you should neglect your own needs.”
“Thank you, Rex.” Typhos looks down, making it easier to brush his hair. “There are some things I need to comb out myself.” He chuckles lightly at the phrase. “No pun intended. But I need to find the truth for myself; maybe I’ll ask Malos the next time he is lucid.”
“What is Malos to you, anyway? You call him your brother, but if he is your creator, wouldn’t he be closer to your father?” Nia asks, her eyes filled with both curiosity and concern.
Typhos hesitates before responding, “I’m not sure. That’s one of the things I’ve been trying to figure out. There’s data in my core that undeniably comes from Malos or has been altered by him. But there’s also different information that seems to originate from another source.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“The data that makes up my core isn’t solely from Malos. There’s data originating from another place, another person, another Blade.”
“Another Blade?” I exclaim, surprised at the thought. “Who else could you have been born from?”
Typhos shakes his head. “It could have been anyone; many Blades were present that day. Brighid, Aegeaon, Mythra, Minoth, Jin, Haze…”
Nia’s eyes widen. “Wait, Jin? How could he have been there?” She shakes her head. “Isn’t he human?”
Typhos’s eyes widen in return. “No, he’s a Blade. I thought you knew. He must have been awakened a few times since then, though. I assumed one of the other members of Torna was his Driver.”
Nia shakes her head. “Jin follows no one, not even Mythra. I can’t imagine anyone in Torna being his Driver.”
“Then who could his Driver be?” I ask.
The rest of our journey to Uraya unfolds smoothly. After styling Typhos’ hair, I insist that he rest. Mórag instructs the captain to slow down, allowing us some much-needed "rest and reprieve" before we resume our tasks in Uraya. Despite this pause, the trip seems to pass in a flash.
We arrive in Fonsa Myma, the capital of Uraya, still emotionally drained from our conversations on board the ship. Although no one mentions it, the atmosphere is tense, and it’s clear that we are all uncertain about our next steps. As we disembark, a tall, bearded man greets us at the port.
“So, you’re Vandham?” I ask, assuming the person we were supposed to meet would be here.
“Nah, I’m just here to escort you to Garfont. My name’s Zuo,” he replies.
“Oh, sorry,” I say, feeling a bit embarrassed by the mix-up.
“S’alright,” Zuo waves me off, easing my concerns slightly. “Uraya is beautiful but vast and easy to get lost in. We’d hate for you to wander off and meet an untimely end before we even start the job.”
Mórag stands next to me, while Typhos and the others trail behind. “It makes sense to have a local guide us,” she says, scrutinizing him to gauge his abilities. “I assume you’re one of Vandham’s mercenaries, then?”
“Got that right. You could think of me as Vandham’s right hand, though his true second-in-command will always be his Blade,” Zuo explains.
“Oh, so Vandham is a driver?” I inquire.
“Yes, most of us are, including myself. My Blade decided to remain in the village, claiming she had some matters to attend to.” Zuo continues, “But don’t worry; I am more than capable of defending myself even without her assistance.” He gestures to a short sword sheathed at his side.
Typhos interjects, “So, should we set off? I don’t want to get lost in the darkness if we don’t reach our destination before nightfall.”
Zuo's eyes widen as he gazes at Typhos' core. "So, this is the Aegis I've heard so much about." He shifts his gaze between the cores in Typhos' chest and mine. "So you must be his Driver, then."
I puff out my chest slightly, doing my best to come across as confident and capable. "Yup."
Zuo's expression turns serious, concern etched on his features. "You're so young. What a heavy burden to carry." He reaches out and places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, bud, we'll take care of you."
I release a heavy breath, “I-I think this is the first time someone has seen me and not seen my inexperience as an opportunity to take him.”
Zuo smiles, and turns around, indicating for us to follow him, “I hope that during your time in Uraya, we’ll be able to show you that there are some things more important than strength.”
Zuo expertly guides us through Uraya, though he insists that we shouldn't linger in Fonsa Myma. According to him, we will have plenty of time to explore the capital later, so a tour isn't necessary at the moment.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said Uraya is gorgeous,” Nia says, walking beside me.
Zuo laughs warmly. “Most of what we know as Uraya is located inside the Urayan Titan. The Titan’s hide is translucent, allowing light to filter through and giving us enough illumination to see during the daytime.”
“Wow, I hadn’t even considered how we can see while inside the Titan,” I reply, taking stock of my surroundings. We walk along a rocky path, with a massive stone wall to our left and a line of glowing trees to our right. “Where exactly are we right now?”
“This specific area is known as the Funnystone Highway. Those trees are a variety of Saffronia Tree, a special ether-infused tree that can only grow here.”
“How long do you expect it will take us to arrive?” Brighid, who is walking behind us alongside Mórag, asks.
“I’d estimate about one to two hours. It’s not very far from the capital, but there’s really no way to get there any faster.”
Zuo continues walking, guiding us along the path as if it were second nature. There are many monsters and animals along the way, but they skirt around us as if they don’t mind our presence. A couple of them approach Zuo, nudging against him as if he were their owner.
“You have a way with animals, don’t you, Master Zuo?” Dromarch asks, his silver fur bristling in the cold wind.
“Ahaha! It’s not really me; they just associate me with my Blade, Nim. She can speak to them, so they’re hoping she’s with me.”
“Wow, Nim sounds amazing! Drivers and Blades are so cool!” Tora yells, flapping his wings excitedly while Poppi tries to avoid getting smacked.
“Masterpon, you don’t need to get so riled up…” Poppi says, her mechanical tone somehow laced with weariness.
Typhos laughs, which eases my worries about his emotional state slightly. He leans down and picks Tora up, rubbing his head energetically. “C'mon, Poppi! You don’t need to worry about him; he’s loved Drivers and Blades his entire life.”
“Poppi is not worried, just thinking Masterpon is being a bit silly,” Poppi replies, placing a palm to her face.
“Why is Poppi being so disrespectful to her Masterpon?! TyTy, you tell her!” Tora exclaims, crossing his tiny arms while being held by Typhos.
I smile, my heart lightening as the tension in the air dissipates. “C'mon, get along, you two. We need you in top condition! We have a big day tomorrow.” The smile lingers on my face.
I feel a hand rest on my shoulder and turn to see Mórag standing beside me. “Let them have their fun; this journey has been hard on them.” A slight smile rests on her face, and for the first time since we met, I notice how much exhaustion lines her features. She usually hides her face behind her collar and hat, so I hadn’t noticed it before.
“Did you get any sleep at all on the ship, Mórag?” I ask, concerned for someone I had always seen as impenetrable and inexhaustible. “This has taken a toll on you as well.”
Her eyes tighten, but her expression remains stoic. “You needn’t worry about my well-being, Rex. It’s nothing I cannot handle.”
“He makes a valid point, Lady Mórag,” Brighid adds. “This journey has been just as hard on you as it has on them. We must ensure that you get the proper rest when we reach the village.”
“That won’t be a problem, you two,” Zuo replies, gesturing to Brighid and me while walking ahead on the path. “Tomorrow will be a day of rest, so you won’t be expected to start the mission until the day after.”
As we converse, the journey seems to fly by, and before long, we arrive at the wooden gates of a village. Zuo stops and turns to face us. “This is the village, the place we call home: Garfont Village.”
He opens the gate and leads us through the entryway. The village lies in a small alcove, with a hole in the Titan’s hide above it, allowing starlight to pour in. The village consists of small huts, surrounded by various shops and businesses, with people bustling about even at this late hour.
A gentle slope runs from the village entrance down into the main part of the alcove where the village resides. At the base of the slope, three individuals wait for us.
On the right is a massive figure resembling a birdlike humanoid, adorned with red and green feathers and a large beak for a mouth. Massive wings sprout just below their shoulders, and a bag of sorts is wrapped around their neck, with a brilliant azure crystal embedded in a feathered, metallic pedestal shining in their chest.
On the left stands a scantily clad woman, with a fur coat draped over her shoulders. Two foxlike heads protrude from a single body that rests in the hood of her coat. Her slightly animalistic face is framed by shoulder-length blue hair, and she also has an azure crystal glowing in her chest. She offers a warm smile when she sees Zuo.
In the center stands an utterly massive man. He wears armor-like green clothing, complemented by matching gauntlets and greaves. His dark skin is marked by a prominent scar that crosses between his eyes, and his silver hair is styled in a mullet.
The massive man in the center roars in a boisterous laugh, and slaps Zuo on his back when we reach the bottom of the slope. His voice is rough, but oddly comforting, “Ah, Zuo! I was starting to get concerned that something had happened to ya!”
“Like I would let a journey like that defeat me!” Zuo smiles broadly and turns to face us. “This is our leader, Vandham.” He gestures to the foxlike woman on his right. “This is Nim, my Blade and companion.”
Before he can introduce the birdlike Blade, it speaks up. “And I am Roc.” The way they say their name is quick, as if they are trying to rush it out. “I am Vandham’s Blade, and the only one who keeps him from running off at the first sight of adventure.”
Vandham laughs heartily, and I begin to notice that the wrinkles on his face are not only from his advanced age but also from his frequent smiles. His presence is warm and comforting, though a bit imposing. “C’mon, Roc! Don’t act like I’m some bumbling novice!”
I take the opportunity to introduce myself. “My name is Rex, and this is Typhos,” I say, pointing to him, “though you would know him as the Aegis.” I continue, hoping to introduce the rest of our allies. “This is Nia and Dromarch.” Nia waves while Dromarch bows. “This is the Special Inquisitor of Mor Ardain and the Jewel of the Empire, Mórag and Brigid.” Mórag removes her hat and bows slightly, while Brighid curtsies. “And this is Tora and Poppi.” Poppi lifts Tora up, and he waves at Vandham wildly. “Oh yeah, and this is Gramps!” I nudge Gramps from where he naps in my helmet, and he wakes up looking a bit scraggly.
Vandham scratches his chin as he processes the information, a smile forming on his lips before he speaks. “Quite the impressive list of introductions, huh? The Aegis and His Chosen Driver,” he says, glancing at me. “Then we have a Gormotti who seems to harbor her fair share of secrets,” he adds, startling Nia. “And let’s not forget the almighty Special Inquisitor and her Legendary Blade, nearly as renowned as the Aegis himself.” Mórag nods, unfazed by the sudden praise. “Lastly, we have a Nopon Driver, quite a rare sight in his own right.” He chuckles, “Oh, and a Baby Titan! I’m not sure how you managed to get your hands on one of those.”
I scratch the back of my head, chuckling slightly. “A-aha, it’s a long story…”
“Ahaha! I’m sure it is. You can tell me all about it over dinner; we have some things for you as well.”
My eyebrows raise. “You do? I wonder what that’s about…”
Vandham waves us forward and leads us through the village. “You guys took your sweet time. The advance messenger from the Empire had enough time to stop in Argentum before making it here. While there, he picked up a package from Leftheria. He said it was addressed to a certain salvager.” He smiles as he pulls a package from a pouch on his hip and hands it to me.
My heart brightens as I read the name on the package, and Typhos speaks up, “Rex, who’s it from?”
I smile brightly. “It’s from Fonsett! Auntie Corinne sent me something!”
“Don’t open it yet; let’s eat first,” Vandham says. As much as I want to read what Auntie Corinne wrote, I have to agree. I haven’t eaten anything since we were on the ship.
Vandham leads us to a small, open-air restaurant and talks to the clerk. He motions for us to sit, and I take a seat with Typhos and Nia, leaving a space open for Vandham. All of us have our eyes fixed on the package in front of me.
“What do you think your Auntie sent you?” Nia asks. “Who is she to you, anyway? You said you didn’t have any parents. Is she actually your aunt?”
“Nah, but she’s the closest thing I have to a mother. When my birth mom wandered into Fonsett, her final words were to ask Corinne to take care of me…” I look down, the box seeming to weigh heavier in my mind.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize that was so sensitive,” Nia says, her eyes gentle.
“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind sharing with you, certainly not with you, ” I reply with a smile. “I don’t want to keep secrets.”
Typhos smirks at me, and I remember our conversation at the hot springs. I feel my face redden.
“Rex? Are you okay?” Nia asks, her ears twitching.
“Haha, I’m fine,” I say, trying to suppress my blush.
Vandham appears, somehow managing to carry four plates in his broad arms. I move the package off the table, and he places three of the plates in front of us.
“Thanks for the food!” I say, both excited for the meal and grateful for the distraction.
Vandham sits down and asks, “So, what's the deal with Mr. Tiny Titan?”
Typhos chuckles and replies, “Mr. Grampyface got himself hurt so badly that he reverted to a larval state. He may not look it, but I knew him 500 years ago.”
Vandham chokes on his food. “Mr. Grampyface?! I didn’t expect the Aegis to give people such bad nicknames.”
“He deserves it,” I laugh as Gramps slaps the back of my head with his tail. I look down and notice Dromarch. “Did you get something to eat, Dromarch?”
He looks back and nods. “Yes, Master Rex, I am quite satisfied.”
After we finish eating, our attention returns to the package in my lap.
“Go on, open it!” Typhos urges. I tear off the rope that secures its contents.
Inside lies an ornate velvet box, with a note on top. I remove the note and read aloud what is written:
“Hello, my dear. I hope all is well. I received the letter you wrote. Mor Ardain, huh? And a Driver? Of the legendary Aegis, no less! I always knew you had the heart of a Driver, and I know you can handle yourself, especially with the friends you described. But I still wish such a daunting fate hadn’t chosen you.” Typhos looks down, appearing a bit guilty, but I pat his hand to ease his guilt.
“I was thinking about how I might assist you, and Vess suggested I send you these.”
Nia asks, “Who’s Vess?”
“Oh! Did I not mention her? My auntie was quite the adventurous type in her younger years, and Vess is her Blade. She helped take care of me when Auntie Corrine was busy. She has a bit of an obsession with dumplings, though,” I say with a laugh, and Nia smiles.
Gramps jumps in, “Ah, Corinne was quite a fiery child. As soon as she reached adulthood, she went off on an adventure. She returned a few years later, Vess in tow, with endless stories of the foes she encountered. Although I doubt the legitimacy of most of those tales.”
I continue reading the letter: “Contained in the velvet box are two Core Crystals, passed down in the village since the time of the Hero-Prince, our village founder. You remember him—the one who is depicted in the statue at the center of the village?”
Typhos' eyes widen. “You never mentioned that there was a statue of Addam in the village.”
I nod. “ Yeah! Addam is a legendary figure in Fonsett. Village folklore says that he became the village’s guardian spirit after he passed and that he left some sort of power hidden deep within the village. I’m not sure how much of it is true, though. ”
“Interesting…” Typhos says.
“Records on the Blades contained in the Core Crystals suggest that these Cores bear Blades of power comparable to the Jewels of the Empire. ” My eyes widen at the thought, “On the left is a Core titled ‘Divine Core Crystal’, which contains a Blade of Light wielding a gleaming white sword and an abyssal black sword. On the right is a core titled ‘Ebullient Core Crystal’, which contains a Blade that is said to wield a Bitball—you know, the type that Vess uses? You used to play Driver with it as a kid.” My cheeks flush, and Nia begins to laugh . “She is said to be both a capable healer and a powerhouse in her own right. I hope that they will be a help to you. You can either awaken them yourself or entrust them to your allies; I just want you to be safe. All of our love, Corinne and Vess~”
Nia gazes eagerly at the box as I remove it from the package and open the lid. Inside, just as the letter mentioned, lies a velvet-lined box containing two brilliantly shining Core Crystals. Attached to the lid are engraved metal plaques with the names “Divine Core Crystal” and “Ebullient Core Crystal” inscribed above them. I glance at Nia, Typhos, and Vandham. “Should we awaken them?” I ask.
Vandham’s expression grows serious, and he looks at me intently. “It’s up to you, kid, but I recommend you think carefully about who awakens them. I suggest either doing it yourself or giving the Core to someone you trust with your life. If these Blades are truly as powerful as your aunt described, handing them over to someone who might become an enemy could be a dangerous mistake.”
I nod and gaze at the shining Cores where they rest in their home. Rising from my seat, I call to my allies surrounding me, “Guys, I need some advice.” Concern is etched on their faces as they stand closer.
“My aunt entrusted me with two Core Crystals. One is said to be a Light Blade that wields two swords, and the other is a Warrior Healer who uses a Bitball.” I look at them. “These Blades could be a tremendous asset, but I’m not sure who would be the best Driver for them."
Mórag steps forward, and speaks, “Rex, if your aunt was the one who entrusted them to you, you should be the sole deciding factor.”
“I know that, but I am asking for help from you and Nia, especially.” I look down, the Cores illuminating the surroundings with their azure glow. “I don’t know if I’m experienced enough as a Driver to make such an important decision.”
Mórag sighs and smiles slightly. “Well, if you’re that insistent, I could probably use the Dual Swords adeptly. But at the same time, weren’t you saying you wanted to learn how to use two weapons? I’ve never used a Bitball, and I’ve never been much of a Healer type. If I had to recommend, I would say you should either awaken both of them or awaken the Sword user and entrust the Healer to Nia.”
I look to Nia and Typhos, and they both nod. “I can awaken the Bitball if that would make you more comfortable,” Nia offers.
I look down at the Cores one last time and nod. I remove the Ebullient Core Crystal from its pedestal and offer it to Nia. She takes it, looking upon it reverently. I set the velvet box on the table and remove the Divine Core Crystal from the place where it has spent countless years.
“I’ve never awakened a Core Crystal before. Is there some sort of special process?” I ask.
Gramps responds, “Close your eyes and draw the Core close to your chest. Open your heart to it and imagine the Blade that you need, not what you want. ”
“I’ll awaken her second. Take your time; awaken him first,” Nia says, smiling gently.
I close my eyes and draw the shining Core to my chest. “You are the Blade my Auntie entrusted to me. I need someone who carries their blades confidently—someone who can guide me into the future. Be the guiding light that helps Typhos and me reach Elysium!”
I feel the energy contained in the Core spread down my clenched fists, and the brilliantly shining light reaches my eyes, even through my tightly closed lids. Time seems to stop, and I find myself in a completely different place. I stand formless in an empty abyss, with a brightly shining light in front of me. Suddenly, the light disappears, and a young man falls from the endless, lightless sky. He lands with his back facing me, two crossed swords hanging across his back. An endless, fluttering feathered cape floats behind him, dropping feathers at an impossible rate. He wears red leather pants and a tight black shirt.
As he turns to face me, I see an oddly shaped blue Core Crystal embedded in his chest. He’s attractive, with long, fluffy blonde hair framing his face.
“My name is Corvin!” he declares as he pulls one of the swords off his back. He draws it and launches multiple beams of light from the edge of the sword, which pass through my shapeless form painlessly.
After launching a few barrages from one blade, he seamlessly draws the second blade and launches an even faster barrage of attacks, quicker than my eyes can see. “Your foes won’t stand a chance while I’m around!” he yells confidently, launching a massive beam of light toward the now-illuminated stone floor of the abyss. A tremendous pillar of light erupts where the blade struck, temporarily blinding me.
When the light fades, Corvin stands where the pillar erupted. He sheathes both blades and returns them to his back. Looking back at me, a light shines in his green eyes. “I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I really am that good!”
He disappears, leaving me alone in the empty abyss. Where Corvin once stood, I now appear, carrying the black sword that he was holding. I begin to move, wielding the sword.
“ Am I demonstrating the Arts that I can use with this sword to myself?” I ask.
Information floods into my mind as I visualize attacking with the sword
Flash Uppercut, Night Breaker….
Once my shade finishes demonstrating the techniques, the abyss fades away. I find myself standing back in Garfont, watching as Corvin takes shape in front of me, emerging from the light of the Divine Core Crystal. The Crystal floats upwards, transforming into the black sword I saw in the abyss.
Typhos claps me on the back, grinning widely. “You did it! I knew you had it in you!”
Corvin stands, surveying the people around him until his eyes lock on me and Typhos. “So, you’re my Driver, and you’re my brother in Bladehood, huh?” He smiles, his light hair seeming to glow. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Notes:
What do you guys think? I love this idea, and while it does hurt to cut out the Mabon and Vess storyline, I love the idea of giving Vess to Corinne.
I love the idea of Rex being able to do hair. He's the oldest sibling with a bunch of little kids following him around, you can't tell me that he didn't learn how to do hair.
Adult Rex doing Glimmer and Mios hair MMMM
i love them your honor
Corvin my beloved
Chapter 21: Of Blades and Balloons
Summary:
Nia awakens Crossette, and Corvin gives Rex a lesson on Ether
Chapter Text
[NIA]
Seeing Rex so happy puts my heart at ease. Although the sight of the glittering Core in my hands makes me nervous, Rex's smile—along with Typhos clapping him on the shoulder and Corvin boasting about his abilities—helps me push my doubts aside.
At my side, Dromarch begins, “My lady, do you still wish to awaken her?” He nods at the Core Crystal in my hand.
I look down at the Core, pondering the question. Then I turn to Rex and ask, “Now that you have awakened Corvin, do you still want to leave her to me?”
Before Rex can respond, Corvin smiles in my direction and asks, “Huh. Why do you ask for permission? Isn’t that Core yours?”
I shake my head. “Both your Core and this one were entrusted to Rex by his family. He decided to awaken you but left this Core for me.”
Corvin looks at Rex, and they nod in agreement. “I don’t think Rex would go back on his word like that.”
“Exactly! I'm not sure I could handle training another Blade. I’ll leave her in your hands.” Rex waves me off, seemingly confident in his choice.
“If you’re certain…”
I channel a bit of ether into the Core, causing it to float gently in my hands.
Rex chuckles, “Show off.”
“Please, I need someone who can help me help them. We need hope, we need warmth. Rex and Typhos may be our guiding lights, but we need someone who can help keep that flame burning.”
The Crystal shines brightly, blinding me, and just like with Dromarch, I find myself in a completely different place.
In the center of the Abyss, a small-statured girl with white and brown hair appears. She wears a short, white shirt, with many brown orb-shaped objects hanging from her waist. Two red horns sprout from her head.
The girl springs into action, skating around the abyss, steam erupting from the mechanical greaves on her feet. She skates a lap around me, and when she tries to stop in front of me, the greaves catch on the ground, tripping her. She waves her arms wildly but manages to steady herself.
Looking at me, she exclaims, “Crossette’s the name! I promise I won’t let you down!” She smiles brightly, and fire erupts from her horns, causing firework-like sparks to shower the empty abyss. “Oooooh, I’m so excited!”
Crossette then disappears, and I see an image of myself throwing a bladed ball. Information floods into my mind—arts and motions I never would have thought possible. When the shade of my appearance vanishes, I find myself back in Garfont. Crossette takes shape in front of me, forming from the light that shines outward from the Core, and the Core itself transforms into the Bladed Ball from my vision.
[REX]
The girl who emerged from the Ebullient Core Crystal introduces herself as Crossette, with sparks flying from her horns.
I pump my fists and smile brightly. “You did it too, Nia!”
Nia attaches the Bitball to her back and places her hands on her hips, “Of course I did, Rex! It’s not like it was my first time awakening a Core Crystal.” Despite her confident attitude, a gentle smile graces her face.
Corvin studies Crossette and offers her his hand. “Hey there! It seems our cores came from the same place, so I guess we should take care of each other, huh?”
Crossette shakes his hand eagerly. “Yeah! I promise I won’t let you guys down!”
Typhos shakes his head, still smiling. “Geez, they’re going to be a handful, aren’t they?”
“Says Mr. Wannabe Kidnap Victim,” Nia jokes.
Typhos rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Vandham steps into the center of the small circle we’ve formed around the two new additions and gets our attention. “Alright, kiddos! While this has certainly been exciting, it’s late. Tomorrow is a day of rest, so sleep in and get to know your new friends.”
I wake up feeling more rested than I have since my stay at the Inn in Mor Ardain. Corvin got up several hours before Typhos and me, citing, “Hey, I just woke up for the first time! I don’t need to sleep for hundreds of years again.”
I sit up in the soft bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Typhos is still asleep in the bed next to mine, but no one else is in the room. Vandham had insisted on having my salvaging suit washed, so I’m now wearing a set of wool pajamas he provided for me.
I glance to my side and notice two sets of clothing on the side table. On the left is my salvaging suit, washed and neatly folded. On the right is a different set of clothing, topped with a note written in surprisingly elegant handwriting. It reads:
“Heya kiddo. I had your suit laundered as promised, but I realized it might not be easy to move in. I won’t tell you not to wear it, but training might be easier in clothes that allow for more movement. I’d recommend giving these threads a try. Rest well, Vandham.”
“Jeez, the old goat has a bigger heart than I thought.” I grab the clothes that Vandham provided and lay them out on the bed. They are my usual blue, with loose-fitting pants and a long, sleeveless shirt, with a swirling pattern down the body.
Before I can decide whether to wear them, Typhos stirs, sitting up in bed, wearing the same type of pajamas I am. His core shines through the fabric, and his hair is a messy halo around his head.
“You know, I don’t think the legends mentioned the Aegis’ wicked bedhead,” I joke.
Typhos sighs, a gentle smile on his face. “Good morning to you too, Rex.” His gaze shifts to the clothing laid out on the bed in front of me. “What’s that about?”
“You know how Vandham insisted on washing my salvaging suit? Well, he did, but he said it might be hard to move in. So, he brought me another set of clothing, saying it might be easier for training.”
“Huh. He’s not wrong, you know. There’s no way that suit is easy to move around in.” Typhos stands and begins to take off his pajama shirt, and I quickly avert my eyes.
“W-wait,” I say, caught off guard by his forwardness, but he doesn’t respond. I hear a high-pitched, shimmering sound, and when I look back at him, he’s wearing his blue armor again, with his pajamas in a heap on the floor. “H-huh?”
He laughs, bending down to pick up the pajamas from the floor. “The armor comes from my core. Any Blade can remove the clothing they awaken in, but they don’t have to put it back on. We can regenerate it from our Core, just like our weapons.”
“Huh, I suppose that makes sense. I just wasn’t expecting it.” I look up, noticing his hair is still a mess. “Don’t suppose you could fix your hair with your Core, too?”
“A-aha, that it cannot do…”
I sigh, “Ugh, lemme go borrow a brush from Nia.”
After wrangling the beast hiding in Typhos' hair, we finally meet the others in Garfont's Plaza.
We are the last to arrive, and everyone else is already seated at the restaurant where we dined the previous night. Nia is sitting with Mórag and Brighid as they enjoy breakfast.
When Nia sees me, her eyes widen. “Oh, you finally changed out of that salvaging suit?”
I try to suppress a blush. “Aha, yes. Vandham mentioned that it might be easier to fight in something that doesn’t restrict my movements as much.”
Brighid smiles. “It suits you. Although it does feel a bit strange to see you in anything else.”
Mórag nods in agreement. “I concur. Vandham’s advice has merit. It did seem difficult for you to be mobile in your salvaging suit.” Her gaze drifts to my left wrist, where my anchor still rests. “Though I see that you haven’t parted with all of it.”
I nod. “I’ve adapted to using my anchor in combat, so I believe it would be a mistake to part with it.”
Brighid nods, as if recalling our single encounter in battle. “Yes, a wise decision. You managed to use it in a way that even I found difficult to counter.”
Before I can respond, I hear someone call from another table, “Rex! Over here!” I turn to see Typhos and Corvin sitting together with Tora and Poppi.
I wave goodbye to Mórag, Nia, and Brighid, then walk over to their table. Corvin gestures to an empty seat with a plate of food in front of it.
“Wow, thanks,” I say as I take the seat. “Hey Corvin, how have you been adjusting to, well, life?”
Corvin smiles and replies, “It’s been great! Everyone is so nice, although Crossette seems to be a lot more exhausted than I am.” He points to the receptionist’s desk, where Dromarch is lying uncomfortably, with Crossette sprawled on top of him, fast asleep like he’s a pillow.
“Uh, is she okay?”
“Vital signs are steady, consistent with exhaustion,” Poppi says.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Every Blade awakens in a different state. While I was awakened feeling energized, it seems she just needs some extra rest,” Corvin explains.
“Mmm, alright. What do you think of everyone?”
“Mórag and Brighid seem infinitely capable. I’m grateful they will be the ones taking care of your training. Tora is adorable.” He rubs Tora’s head, causing the little creature to flap his wings wildly. “Nia and Dromarch are kind. I just hope Crossette will be able to flourish with them.”
“I wouldn’t worry about them, Corvin. Nia and Dromarch are the only reason we’ve made it this far,” Typhos says.
Corvin nods and then turns his attention back to me. “But you. Mórag mentioned that you were interested in wielding two swords?”
“Uh, yeah? Auntie Corrine’s letter mentioned that you used two swords, so that was a motivating factor for my awakening of you.” I shake my head. “N-not that I wouldn’t have awakened you if you didn’t use two swords.”
Corvin laughs. “Your aunt isn’t wrong; I do use two swords.” He extends his hand, and two structures of pure light appear, taking the shape of single-edged swords. He floats one of the swords in front of me, and I recognize it as the sword that the Divine Core Crystal turned into. “This sword is known as Halteclere. It is the weapon I can lend to you to use as my driver. It is my only technical ‘Blade Weapon,’ though.”
The projection in front of me shifts to reveal a second sword, a shimmering white blade that looks incredibly sharp. I feel like it could still cut me, even though it’s made of light. “And this is called Durandal. It channels a lot of Ether—enough that I’d bet your friend, the Special Inquisitor over there, would struggle to use it.”
“Oh, wow,” I say, still admiring the floating projections.
“Friend Corvin’s power is very pretty!” Tora exclaims.
“Never seen anything so amazing…” Poppi adds, her eyes sparkling.
“Ahaha, I agree,” Corvin says, smiling at the two of them while dispelling the brilliant illusions. “So, yes, it may reach a point where I can let you use both Durandal and Halteclere, but it’s going to take a long time—much longer than it will take to awaken Typhos’ brother.”
“Ugh, sounds about right…” I reply, feeling a bit disappointed. “I wonder if it’ll ever be reasonable for me to use two weapons.”
“Hmm, how do I explain this…” His face lights up, and he extends his hand again.
A small, animated version of me appears, carrying what looks like a balloon. Next to it, a small version of Corvin appears, also carrying a balloon, but his is much larger than mine.
“The balloon symbolizes Ether. Each person and Blade has their own balloon—essentially their own stock of Ether. In battle…” Corvin flicks his wrist, and an animated version of himself hands a balloon to my avatar. “The Blade gives their Driver their Ether, their balloon. Only those who can carry both their own Ether and that of their Blade can become Drivers in the first place. Does that make sense?”
I nod, trying my best to follow along with his explanation.
“Now, say in battle, the Driver were to lose their grip on either of the balloons. What do you think would happen?”
Typhos and I exchange glances and nod. “Loss of control. Without someone to keep the Ether in check, it would run rampant.”
Corvin smiles and nods. “Exactly! You're a natural! Now, regarding Typhos…” He flicks his wrist again, and his avatar transforms into a small version of Typhos, who is carrying an enormous balloon. “His pool of Ether is massive, but because of how you two are bonded…” Typhos’ balloon shrinks, while the previously small balloon my avatar holds inflates. “You’re able to carry that Ether together. In most cases, Typhos won’t even need to hand you his balloon because his Ether is already intermingled with yours.”
“So that’s why Mórag and Brighid said that Driving two Blades at once is unheard of…” I say, finally understanding what they meant.
Corvin nods. “Exactly. Most people are barely able to carry their own balloon, let alone a Blade’s. That’s why Drivers are so rare. Driving two Blades is a recipe for… well…” The avatars in front of us burst in a silly, cartoonish explosion of light.
“For a normal person, anyway.” My avatar re-forms, the purple core in its chest shining brightly. “Because of Typhos’ core, you are both more capable of channeling Ether, or ‘carrying balloons,’ and your other hand is free for another balloon, since you don’t have to carry Typhos’.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, hope swelling in my chest.
“But,” Corvin emphasizes, his expression turning serious, “you need to be VERY careful. It is still a massive weight. You’ll need to train hard if you ever want to be able to do this. And…” He looks at Typhos, “Unless you find another Blade who can carry their own balloon like he does, one of the Blades you Drive needs to be Typhos, or eventually Malos—assuming he works the same way.”
“Right, that makes sense,” I respond.
“Orrrrrrr…” Corvin drags out the word, leaning to his side to pick something up and offering it to me. “You can just use a normal sword in your other hand, like a normal person.”
I take what he’s handing me and recognize it as a broadsword with a simple hilt, sheathed in a black wooden scabbard. It’s much lighter than Typhos’ sword.
My cheeks flush. “I can’t believe I never thought of this.”
“Rex-Rex is sometimes silly,” Tora laughs.
Notes:
What did you guys think? Any wishes or wants? Let me know!
Chapter 22: Inquisitor and Chieftain's Bootcamp
Summary:
Corvin puts on a show for the village's kids, and spurs something within Typhos' memories
Vandham starts Rex's training, and introduces him to a new way to use Ether.
Notes:
A lot of these current chapters are laying the groundwork for future story arcs. I have a lot of plans, and if everything goes according to plan, I'll be largely diverted from the game's story from now on >:)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
We spend the rest of our day of rest relaxing peacefully. For the first time in what feels like ages, we enjoy each other's company without the fear of capture, a looming threat, or the burden of truth weighing on us. Crossette sleeps for the remainder of the day and wakes up early the next morning. Gramps mentions that it's unusual for a Blade to need so much rest after awakening, but it is not unheard of.
Once night falls, Corvin puts on an elaborate light show for the village children, pretending to fight off illusory monsters and save the day. He emphasizes the power of his ever-sheathed sword, claiming that it can only be drawn to save the world in its time of need.
Nia, Typhos, and I stand on the sidelines, watching as Corvin flies around the roofs of the village huts, his cape fluttering with exaggerated bravado. The children gathered in the village center watch in silent awe as Corvin is chased around by a false draconic enemy—a snake-like creature with purple metallic scales, with the “Unholy Demon King” riding upon its massive head.
“His ability to create illusions like this is truly amazing,” Nia says with a gentle smile. “I’ve heard of evasion-focused Blades being able to create minor illusions to throw off their enemies in battle, but this is truly a sight to see.”
“That enemy's likeness is remarkable…” Typhos remarks, concern marking his brow.
“That’s not quite the reaction I was expecting from you, Typhos,” I say, surprised by his concern. “Is something about that illusion bothering you?”
The Demon King orders the dragon to strike, and the draconic foe opens its mouth, a frill of skin unfurling behind its head as it breathes a stream of light at Corvin. He dodges, and the beam of light collides with the surrounding cliffside, resulting in a massive—but harmless—explosion. Corvin then closes the distance, drawing Durandal to sever the enemy’s head, effectively quelling the “scourge on the world,” as he puts it.
The children erupt in raucous cheers, and Typhos’ words are nearly drowned out beneath their joy, though I manage to catch what he says:
“How does Corvin know about Ophion?”
I couldn’t get Typhos to elaborate by the end of the night, but he no longer seems bothered by the presence of the beast known as "Ophion." He simply commends Corvin for his ability to create such illusions, expressing hope that Corvin can entertain children the way he does someday. We all slip into a deep, healthy sleep, feeling both rested and fulfilled by the day's events.
I wake early in the morning to a harsh knocking on my door. Still half asleep, I groggily respond, “W-wuh? I-I’m coming!” I rush to the door and open it, greeted by the sight of Roc and Brighid.
“Apologies, Rex, but it seems Vandham and Mórag have both decided to oversee your training. To accommodate the extra time needed for this, you'll need to wake up earlier than we originally expected,” Brighid explains, not appearing too pleased about the arrangement either. “Please wake Corvin and Typhos, and prepare yourself. I hear the café sells wonderful coffee.”
Roc crows, spreading their wings confidently, “Early bird gets the worm!” They then cackle at their own joke.
I return to the room and rouse Corvin and Typhos. Typhos’ hair is, yet again, a kapibas nest, and he wears a “Where time is now” look on his face. Corvin somehow wakes up looking better kempt than he did when he went to sleep. I go about my rounds of taking care of Typhos hair, and afterward, we all agree that coffee is a good idea.
To our surprise, Nia, Crossette, Poppi, and Tora are already waiting for us at the café, Nia nursing a coffee, her expression both tired and content. Tora is analyzing Crossette’s greaves, chirping in amazement at the structure of the mechanics, while Crossette and Poppi play together, clapping each other’s hands together in a rhythm, probably a game of sorts. Vandham, Mórag, Brighid, and Roc are seated at a table nearby, locked in a conversation that seems serious.
Nia smiles warmly when she sees us. “What’s up, sleepyheads?”
I wave in response. “What’s got you up this early?”
“Crossette woke up super early this morning. I’m sure she could have handled herself, but I didn’t want her to feel alone,” Nia explains. Tora suddenly screams in joy when he finds something he likes in the greaves, and Nia laughs at his reaction. “Tora and Poppi were already up doing some routine maintenance. I don’t think that kid ever sleeps.”
I take a seat next to Nia, while Typhos and Corvin sit across the table from us.
“Do you have any idea what those four have planned?” I ask Nia, glancing at the group on the other side of the area, still locked in intense conversation.
“I haven’t been able to gather much, but it seems like Mórag has latched onto the ‘Dual Blades’ aspect of your wishes. She seems interested in training you in the Ardainian 'Azure' style,” Nia replies with a shrug. “As for Vandham, I have no clue what he wants to do.”
I look down at the ordinary sword that I have sheathed at my hip. “Where did you get this, anyway, Corvin?”
“I asked Vandham if he had any extra light swords,” Corvin shrugs. “Turns out that one has been gathering dust in the storehouse for a while, so we had it sharpened for you.”
“How you guys had time to do that, I will never know. Between the extra clothes, the sword, and his offer to train me, I already have a lot to be thankful for when it comes to Vandham.”
“You’re not going to feel that way for long, kiddo,” Vandham says, having risen from his seat across the pavilion and approached without my notice. He takes a seat next to Corvin. “So, Mórag and I have finalized the details of your training.”
“From how you’re talking, it sounds like it’s going to be pretty rough, huh?”
Vandham laughs. “You said it, kid. Mórag over there is going to handle your swordsmanship. She’s a little too excited to introduce you to their traditional swordplay. Meanwhile, Roc and I will be focusing on your ether control.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Ether control? Why is that?”
“Because, according to what the Inquisitor told me, that Malos of yours will only manifest when you can control his power , not just his sword,” Vandham explains. “Don’t get me wrong; Mórag can handle herself when it comes to ether, but what makes her so deadly is her swordplay. Roc channels a lot of ether, just as much as that Aegis of yours, if not more. I’m the one most experienced in controlling such a large amount of ether.”
“Right, that makes sense…” I say, though his comment about Roc surprises me, “Roc sure sounds amazing. I’ve seen beast-type Blades, of course, but I’ve never seen a Blade quite like them.”
“Yeah, they’re an odd one, for sure.” Vandham smiles, looking back at his partner where they still sit with Mórag and Brighid, “Reliable as can be, though. Haven’t let me down a single time, in the 40-odd years we’ve been bonded.”
Typhos interjects, “Uh, Vandham? I was wondering if I could make a request.”
“Shoot, kid. What’s bothering ya?” Vandham says,
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to train me, too. I’m confident in my swordplay, but I’ve always felt that I’ve lacked with my Ether.”
Vandham’s eyes widen, “I’ve never heard of a Blade needing to train with their Ether.”
Typhos shakes his head, “I don’t know if it’s an Aegis thing or a me thing, but I wasn’t born with the inherent control that other Blades are born with. Even Malos needed to train with Addam to not let his destruction run rampant. I’m in a better place than Malos was, it's not like I can’t control my Ether, but I would like some more experience.”
“That’s fine with me.” Vandham rises and calls out to grab everyone's attention. “Alright, kiddos! Anyone who wants to participate in the first edition of Ol’ Vandham’s crash course on Ether, follow me!”
I look to Nia and Tora. “Do you two want to come with me? Having you there would make me feel better.”
Tora looks up from the greaves. “If Rex-Rex wants me to, sure!”
“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll learn something too,” Nia shrugs.
We follow Vandham into a fenced-off area of the village, filled with training dummies and a couple of odd mercenaries honing their weapon skills.
“So, who all is here to learn?” Vandham asks, taking stock of the small group.
“I suppose I could benefit from learning how to use Crossette’s Ether,” Nia says, with Crossette nodding in agreement.
“Same here with Typhos and Corvin,” I add.
“Tora is just here for emotional support!” Tora exclaims.
“Okay, let’s see here…” Vandham looks at the Blades present. “So we’ve got a Water Blade, a Fire Blade, and a Light Blade, eh? How do you normally use your Ether?”
Corvin starts. “Well, I use mine to launch energy blasts and create illusions.” He flicks his wrist, and an identical version of Vandham appears next to him, except with Roc’s head in place of Vandham’s.
Vandham erupts in laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned! That’s one hell of a skill, kid.”
Corvin continues, “In certain situations, I can also use it to heal and dispel enraged states in enemies.”
Nia leans in, whispering in my ear, “Damn, is there anything this guy can’t do? Doesn’t exactly seem ‘balanced’.”
“Hmm, it seems like you have a handle on your abilities. We just need to ensure the kid can use his,” Vandham replies.
He turns to Typhos. “What about you?”
Typhos conjures a ball of water and manipulates it in the air with movements of his hand. “I can summon water and even control natural water to some extent. The water I summon is a byproduct of Malos’ destruction, so I can use it to ‘wash away’ physical objects and alter them somewhat.” He thrusts his hand forward, launching the orb of water at one of the practice dummies. When it strikes the dummy, he twists his wrist, causing the orb to spiral. The dummy saturates completely with water and begins to warp, becoming a distorted mess.
He summons another orb, this one much larger. “My water seems to absorb light; I’m not sure why, though. I hope that isn’t indicative of something bad.”
Tora speaks up, startling the rest of us. “Why is water that absorbs light a bad thing? Doesn’t the bad Aegis use light Ether?”
Typhos’ eyes widen. “I—I never thought of that…”
“Hmm, well, that seems like a good place to start,” Vandham nods. “Okay, Corvin, do you think you could fire off weak blasts of light energy?”
Corvin nods. “Of course. I can make them sting, but not much more.”
“Perfect, that’ll be our first exercise, then,” Vandham smirks. Only then do I realize how grueling this is going to become.
Vandham has Typhos and me stand side by side, with Corvin on the opposite side of the courtyard.
“Okay, kids,” Vandham begins, standing between Corvin and the pair of Typhos and me. “Corvin, you will launch a few blasts of light at Typhos and Rex, and their job will be to summon their Ether and intercept the blasts before they hit them.”
Corvin bounces around a few times, cackling to himself. “Eheehehe, this’ll be fun.”
Vandham directs his gaze at Typhos. “So, how would you block an attack like this normally?”
Typhos thrusts his hand forward, creating a crystalline barrier. “Like this?”
“Yup, thinking inside the box. Now, let’s step just outside it.” Vandham nods. “That power of yours has a lot of applications. You can use the water to absorb the light or find a different way to block it. It’s up to you.”
“Hmm…” I ponder, recalling how I’ve used Typhos’ Ether in the past. “Oh, here!”
I pull Typhos’ sword from my back and channel Ether through the blade. Instead of using it to strike, I swing the sword in a slow, deliberate circle, keeping the flat of the blade facing Corvin. I focus on the Ether flowing from the sword, imagining it not following the blade, but breaking free from it as I move. As I complete the motion, the Ether begins to separate into a thin, shimmering sheet, like water pulling away from the blade, forming an unstable, bubble-like barrier that hovers unsteadily in the air.
Vandham grins. “There we go! That’s a good start!” He looks at Corvin and nods.
Corvin draws back his hand and thrusts an open palm toward us. A small, fast-moving mote of light rushes forward, colliding with the sheet of Ether. The sheet absorbs the light but begins to thrash violently, eventually exploding in a blast of water, completely drenching Typhos and me.
“It was a good starting point, but the problem was that the sheet of Ether was too thin and spread out over too large of a surface area,” Vandham explains. “If you want to create something like that, it should be thicker and more localized. But that also requires you to be able to do it on the fly, with a quick reaction time.”
The remainder of our time with Vandham follows a consistent theme. Typhos and I devise new ideas to counter the light, but the water absorbs it and then drenches us. After spending several hours on this, we manage to enhance our ability to manipulate the ether in space, albeit just a little. Eventually, we decide to call it a day.
It’s around noon when we choose to stop with Ether, but instead of resting as we expected, Vandham orders us to prepare for the road.
“Huh, what are we doing now?” I ask, feeling utterly exhausted from the morning’s events.
“We’re going on patrol. We still need to track down those Torna goons, and how else should we do that but through hands-on experience?”
Corvin throws his arm around my shoulder, nearly knocking me to the ground, “C'mon Rex! We can’t let a little exhaustion take us down!”
“A-aha, alright…”
Our whole group joins us for patrol, although it feels more like a glorified tour around the Titan. Vandham is surprisingly knowledgeable about the area's history, so for every question we ask about our surroundings, he has an average of about 10 minutes of history and significance to share about each landmark.
Our first day of patrol ends with a whimper instead of a bang. Nothing more than the occasional misbehaving anlood catches our attention, a far cry from an Aegis.
By the time we make it back to Garfont, we're all starving, so we decide to meet up again at the restaurant where we ate on our first day here, after freshening up.
After taking a shower, I find myself sitting with Vandham, Mórag, and Nia for dinner.
“How is Rex’s training with Ether going?” Mórag asks.
“Well, he’s certainly creative,” Nia jokes, playfully jabbing me with her elbow.
“He certainly has no shortage of offhand solutions for any single problem,” Vandham explains, “Though he could use some help with the execution. He has potential.”
Mórag nods, her gaze returning to me. “I won’t put you through too much, considering how much you’ve been through today, but we should work on your swordplay tonight as well.”
I nod. “I’m feeling a lot better now that I’ve eaten. Are you going to come too, Nia?”
Nia shakes her head. “Nah, I promised I’d help Crossette bake something. She insists that she’s a good cook, but something tells me I should supervise…”
I laugh. “Alright, good luck with that.”
She sighs. “Let’s hope I don’t need it.”
I meet Mórag in the area where we trained with Vandham earlier in the day. When I arrive, she is analyzing the training dummy that Typhos distorted, a puzzled look on her face.
She looks up at me and asks, “Do you know what happened here?”
“Oh, yes. Typhos did that; he was trying to demonstrate how his water can alter things.”
She nods and replies, “Let’s hope he never has to use it on a living being.”
I shudder at the thought. “Yeah, that doesn’t seem pleasant.”
Mórag looks down, seemingly deep in thought, and asks, “I must ask, what is your fixation with using two swords? You’ve seemed to desire this for some time.”
“Well, I suppose it all goes back to Addam…” I say.
Mórag’s eyes widen. “The Hero-Prince?”
I nod, reflecting on my childhood. “Back in Fonsett, the place where I grew up, there’s a legend. It says that the village founder, the Driver of the Aegis, wielded two sets of dual blades. The first set consisted of a thin blue sword and a massive black sword. The appearance of the second set has been lost to time, though apparently, they are still hidden somewhere within the village.”
Mórag listens intently, never taking her eyes off me. “So, it’s just a childhood fascination with folklore?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I guess? Every kid in the village grows up hoping to find the legendary swords left behind by the Hero-Prince. I realize now that the Blue and Black swords likely referred to Typhos and Malos, so I probably just remembered my childhood fixation on the swords after I awakened Typhos.”
“Interesting. I wonder if there are any other accounts of those tales elsewhere. Would you mind if I asked His Majesty to have someone look into it for us?”
“O-of course! I suppose if anyone would have records of that time, it would be Mor Ardain,” I say, surprised by her offer.
She leans down and picks up two wooden training swords that she must have previously discarded and offers them to me. “Shall we?”
Notes:
Whaddya think? I'm setting up Fonsett to be a focal point of this new world's lore. Does it seem compelling so far? Any requests or wants? LMK!
Chapter 23: A Mercenaries' Life
Summary:
Rex begins his life in Garfont, and draws himself into a routine of Training and Patrolling with Vandham
Vandham teaches Rex a valuable lesson as he grows into his abilities.
Notes:
Vandham and Rex bond a lot in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“The Azure style is incredibly effective because it has been refined over countless years and perfected by generations of highly trained, exemplary drivers,” Mórag begins as I stand in the center of the training ground. She circles me, scrutinizing every aspect of my posture and stance. “There are six different Azure forms, and it is the responsibility of Brighid’s driver to master all six,” she continues, still circling me.
“That sounds brutal…” I reply.
“Thankfully, you are not Brighid’s driver, so I do not expect you to master all six.”
I exhale in relief. “By Addam above, that’s a relief…”
“If you can master even one form, I will consider your training to have been an overwhelming success. However, at this point in time, I do not believe that any Azure form would truly suit you.” Mórag continues, “You have always preferred heavy, powerful swings. There is merit to this approach; it can make you an unstoppable force in certain situations.”
I nod. “Okay… If I’m not going to learn that Azure style, what are we going to work on?”
“We should start by trying to adapt the skills you are already experienced with for use with two swords.”
Mórag has me demonstrate every skill I currently possess. Whether it originated from Typhos, Corvin, or that old junk sword I used to train with, Mórag insists that I perform each one repeatedly. By the time we even start the actual training, I am already exhausted.
After observing my actions, Mórag's attention is drawn to the anchor on my wrist. "You use your anchor as a weapon, yet you don't utilize the rope it's attached to?"
I glance down at the anchor, my constant companion for several years. "Uh, I suppose? I use it to pull myself closer to an enemy sometimes and to increase the speed of my sword."
Mórag sighs. "Learning to use the anchor is a lesson for another day. The easiest adaptation would likely be that art you called 'Double Spinning Edge.' You would be striking the enemy four times instead of just twice."
She tosses two training swords to her sides and steps confidently toward a training dummy. Spinning in a circular motion, she sweeps the swords across the dummy's sides. Continuing this movement, she steps forward and strikes the dummy again in the same manner. After completing the move, she leaps backward, creating distance between herself and the imagined enemy.
She looks at me and says, “Now you try. It shouldn’t be too much of an adaptation for you.”
I glance down at the wooden swords in my hands and nod. Taking a step forward, I remember the motions I’ve practiced since I was young and whirl around, striking the dummy. I follow through with the motions of the second series of strikes.
“My footwork wasn’t as established as yours,” I admit, “but…”
“That’s to be expected. It’s the small details like that which will improve with experience. You will get better over time.” Mórag explains, “Let’s call it there for tonight. Rest well, Rex.”
I return to the inn where we are staying and clean myself up for the second time that night. I collapse into bed and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the soft pillow.
Two weeks go by with this exact formula. Either Vandham or Mórag will train me in the morning, we patrol the Titan until nightfall, and train with the remaining expert after dinner. Nia joins me for Ether training occasionally, but most of the time, it’s just me, Typhos, and Corvin one-on-one with our trainer.
Our patrols bear no fruit. No one we encounter has even a sliver of information on Torna, and we find no information that could point us toward something of interest.
I wake up at our usual time and get ready with Typhos and Corvin. Nia suggested braiding Typhos’s hair before we go to sleep so that we won’t have to wrestle with it every single morning.
Corvin calls from across the room, “Hey, Typhos, do you want one of us to take out the braid?”
Typhos looks in the single mirror we have in our shared room and shakes their head. “Nah, I think I’ll leave it in for today. It might be easier to manage.”
I shrug. “Maybe. If you change your mind, let us know.”
We leave the inn, expecting another day of training and patrols waiting for us in the training area. Instead, we find Vandham and Mórag speaking by the village gates, with the rest of our group milling about nearby.
Vandham grins brightly when he spots us and waves us over. “How’d you fancy being mercenaries for a day?” they ask, still grinning.
“I mean, sure, but what about training?” I ask, confused by their enthusiasm.
“Eh, the best training is experience!” Vandham explains, their voice as loud as ever.
“Don’t worry about it, Rex,” Mórag says with a light smile. “Consider it a day off, if you must. Vandham is right; some things can only be learned by doing.”
I nod. “Alright. What's the job we’re doing?”
“We got a job to check out a strange energy effect up by the Titan’s blowhole. I figured it might be a nice idea to show you how Titans work.”
“Alright, sounds good to me.”
I walk with Nia and Tora as Vandham leads us through the now-familiar area of the Urayan Titan’s stomach.
“Tora, how have you been entertaining yourself here? Nia at least has a new Blade to train with; you must be bored out of your mind,” I ask.
“Rex-Rex doesn’t need to worry! There’s actually a group of mechanics in Garfont! Tora has been working on Poppi with them,” Tora replies.
“Huh, I suppose Tora will always find a way to work on Poppi, huh?” Nia laughs.
We continue walking until Vandham stops abruptly, ending our conversation.
“That was fast,” I say, surprised at how close we are to our destination from Garfont. As I walk around Vandham’s hulking frame, I gasp in surprise at what he was blocking.
“An Ether Miasma. Take it this is your first one?” Vandham says.
“An Ether Miasma?” I ask, confused.
“It’s a load of poisonous waste spewed by the Titan’s guts. You know when you get gassy? Kind of like that,” he explains,
Suddenly, at my side, Nia asks, “Erm, is there a way through this thing? I don’t see a way around it.”
Roc crows, startling us. “What do you think I’m here for? Buncha hatchlings, I tell ya!”
Roc's feathers glow brightly, a green energy being generated from beneath them. They flap their wings, and a powerful gust of wind sweeps through us, almost knocking me off my feet.
“Whoa!” I regain my footing and look up, seeing the Miasma disperse with the force of the wind.
“Woah, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Roc in action before,” Nia comments, smiling gently at the Blade.
Vandham smirks, his chest puffed with pride for his trusty companion. “Nothing to it for ol’ Roc! Let’s get a move on!”
With that, Vandham and Roc lead the way as we venture into an area we haven’t explored much before.
“Hey, Vandham, what was this place called again?” I ask, racking my brain to recall the name.
“This here’s known as the Great Blowhole.” He gestures upward, pointing to a gaping hole in the titan's hide.
While I’m trying to soak in the surroundings, Mórag’s attention is laser-focused on what's ahead. “Vandham, do you reckon that could be a suitable target for what we discussed earlier?”
I follow her gaze and spot a lone Ardun lurking nearby. Vandham nods and then turns to me. “So, ol’ Mórag was saying you could use some ideas on how to put that anchor of yours to better use.”
I nod, the memory of our earlier conversation fresh in my mind. “Yeah, I could definitely expand my horizons on its usability.”
“Hand that here, then.” I unfasten the anchor and pass it over. Though the anchor could wrap around my whole forearm, it’s barely large enough for a couple of Vandham’s fingers. He takes aim at the Ardun, steadying himself as he prepares to fire.
He launches the anchor, but instead of aiming directly at the Ardun’s hide, he targets just next to the Ardun’s leg. Just before the anchor flies past the Ardun, he yanks it, causing it to wrap around the leg instead. He locks the anchor in place and pulls even harder, knocking the beast off balance and sending it crashing to the ground.
“Whoa, you toppled it! I never thought about using it that way!”
“The trick is to pull it taut at just the right moment.” He hands the anchor back to me, and I fasten it back into place around my left wrist.
The Ardun charges forward, now clearly enraged by the attack.
“Now you try!” Vandham calls.
“Alright!” I draw both Typhos’s and my steel sword and step forward. “Jeez, these are a lot heavier than the training swords.”
“We’ll back you up. Just focus on trying out that Topple Art,” Nia says, smiling at my side.
I nod. “Got it.”
Mórag draws the Ardun's attention, and Nia charges in, slicing at the Ardun’s heels with her rings. Once I see the opening, I sheath my steel sword and aim the anchor at the beast's legs. I fire it off and pull the wire taut, wrapping it tightly around its leg. With all my strength, I yank, and the Ardun tumbles to the ground.
Corvin, standing at the sidelines, yells, “Rex!” He tosses me Halteclere as Vandham rushes forward, crashing into the Ardun. Wind Ether whirls around it, sending it hurtling into the sky.
I return Typhos’s sword to my back and draw Halteclere. The techniques I learned from awakening Corvin race through my mind.
I charge straight at the writhing monster and swing to the side. I kick upward, and on the descent, I slam Halteclere’s scabbard into the Ardun. “Starfall!”
A tremendous burst of Ether strikes the Ardun from above, and it plummets harshly to the ground, disintegrating into a cloud of dust.
“Whew, I’m glad that worked…” I sigh, feeling the adrenaline ebbing from the fight.
Vandham claps me on the back, laughing heartily, “Damn kid, you’re a natural! Never thought you had a Smash Art up your sleeve!”
“A-aha, it’s like my body just moved on its own…” I reply, still catching my breath.
“Listen up, kid. Drivers use Arts, but it ain't just about the powers your Blade gives ya. There are Arts that tap into your own strength, or exploit your enemy’s weaknesses. Lots of options out there.” He gives me a firm pat on the shoulder, glancing over at Corvin and Typhos, “A Driver’s job is to be smart with their Arts and keep their Blade safe.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “Protect my Blade?”
Vandham nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. It’s a two-way street, kid. You gotta be aware of the power flowing outta them. Don’t waste it; channel it through your Arts and keep 'em safe. If you can do that, then you’re a true Driver, kid.”
“Do you really think I’m cut out for this?” I ask, uncertainty creeping into my voice.
Vandham scoffs, as if it’s a dumb question. “Of course you are. That move from earlier? With the anchor? It took me five years to learn that.” Vandham smiles, his eyes gentle. “You got it just like that.” He snaps his giant fingers to emphasize his point.
“I think I’m gonna spew,” Nia smirks.
“Biggipon is scary, but also really nice!” Tora flaps around, circling Vandham.
Vandham roars with laughter, and I can almost feel the weight on my shoulders lighten. “You sussed me out, Furrypon!”
Maybe this fight is possible after all.
We continue our journey through the Titan, doing our best to keep up with the mission. Without any incidents, we arrive at an area I remember being called the Soulcrown Summit, and something catches my attention.
Vandham tenses, his voice steady. “Just as I thought…”
I finally make sense of the scene before us. “A Titan? So, that strange power effect they detected… This must be the cause.”
“A very dead Titan, and I would wager it didn’t die from natural causes,” Gramps states with certainty.
A heartrending screech pierces the air, sending a jolt of terror through my veins.
Our group’s attention shifts to the center of the small plateau where we stand. There, in the middle, is an enormous Arachno. Its red eyes blaze with anger, saliva dripping from its gaping maw.
"I guess this is what did the Titan in..." I guess,
Barely obscured behind the hulking creature is a massive, demonic-looking humanoid Blade. A Core Crystal shines brightly in the center of its obsidian, armored chest.
“The Arachno has a Blade ?” I exclaim, surprised by the possibility.
“ STUPID STINKY SPIDER HAS A BLADE????!! ” Tora rages, his fur standing on end.
“Oop, our Nopon has become an Urchon…” Corvin jokes, roughly patting Tora on the head.
Mórag sighs and places her fingers to her temples. “Are we truly at the point where we feel confident enough to joke in the midst of battle?”
“Ahaha!” I draw my ordinary sword alongside the one granted to me by Typhos. “Let’s get this Blade an actual Driver, shall we?”
Typhos steps up to support me. “That’s the spirit!”
Tora clashes with the Arachno, feeling personally offended by its ability to resonate. Roaring with sheer rage, he drills into the Arachno’s carapace with a fervor that would make even the toughest warrior tremble.
I run alongside the enemy, struggling to hold back my laughter. “Addam above, remind me to never get on Tora's bad side!”
Typhos covers his mouth, tears welling in his eyes as he fights to suppress his own laughter. The Ether link between us remains as strong as ever.
When I reach the side of the enemy, I take a step forward, recalling how Mórag taught me to wield these swords. I whirl around, bringing both swords down hard against the Arachno's underbelly, which remains exposed beneath its armored shell. The Ether channeling between the blades whirls around me, forming a riptide of energy that tears through its soft flesh, giving me enough momentum for another spin.
“Double Spinning Edge!”
The critical strike fills me with energy and bolsters my confidence to maintain the assault.
I press on, chaining my attacks together as the spider’s screeches echo around me. The cacophony of noise lulls my mind into a trance, making the swords feel lighter in my hands as the Ether link between Typhos and me strengthens.
The only thing that stops me from moving further is the death rattle that shudders through the Arachno’s body as it collapses into itself, the ash sticking into the blood that lingers on the blades of my swords.
The first thing I notice is how far away everyone else is, standing with their mouths agape on the other side of the plateau. Vandham is the first to break the silence; he nearly doubles over with laughter.
“Jeez, guys, I think the kid is cut out for this!”
“Whuh?” I murmur, confused by their reaction.
“Rex-Rex is terrifying.”
Notes:
Double Spinning Edge go brr
Chapter 24: The Truth of Creation
Summary:
Rex and Co. finish their mission and return to Garfont for some rest and reprieve. But, before they can recover from their battles, they are interrupted by a familiar face.
Notes:
Finally closing up on one of the ideas I laid in previous chapters. I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[TYPHOS]
For the first time since we’ve met her, I see Mórag smile openly. “An exemplary display of your progress as a Driver, Rex,” she remarks.
Rex looks at me like a Krabble caught under a wagon wheel and whispers, “What did I do?”
“Pahaha! I think he zoned out,” I explain to the others.
Tora jumps around, flapping his wings in excitement. “Rex-Rex looks like a tornado! He kept spinning around with water everywhere! Tora will be getting water out of his feathers for hours!”
Vandham beams and says, “I think the kid finally got a handle on canceling his Arts into each other. If I had to guess, that Double Spinning Edge Art of his unlocked the capability of stamina regeneration when it lands a critical strike.”
Rex scratches his head in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Mórag chuckles. “It means that if you aim that Art correctly, it may be possible to chain it into itself.”
Corvin pats Rex on the head, adding, “You know, you could do the same thing with me if you got used to evading attacks.”
Rex looks down, clearly feeling a bit discouraged. “Yeah, I really do need to train with you more…”
Corvin takes a step back, surprised by Rex’s reaction. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, man. You have a lot on your plate as it is.”
Crossette skates over to Nia and hands her something. When Nia realizes what she’s holding, she exclaims, “Oh hey, guys, we forgot about this!”
Our attention shifts to the item in her hands, and I recognize it as a Core Crystal. “Oh right, the Arachno had a Blade,” I say.
“The poor thing wasn’t able to put up much of a fight,” Brighid adds with a hint of humor.
“Huh, I don’t think I managed to see what weapon it was using,” I say, struggling to recall more than its appearance.
“I believe I spied a Megalance,” Dromarch states, scrutinizing the Core in his Driver's hand.
Rex looks intently at the Core. “Why is it black? Isn’t it supposed to be blue?”
Vandham steps forward and plucks the Core from Nia’s hand. “When a Blade loses its Driver, it winds up like this.”
“So… it’s dead?” Rex wonders, his eyes still fixated on the Crystal.
“Nah. It’ll start glowing again after a while. Then, a new Driver can resonate with it. But…”
Rex cocks his head to the side. “There’s a but?”
“Aye, its memory shall be completely wiped. It will be reborn as a new Blade and shall not remember anything.”
“Wow…” Rex looks up at the Core, seeming to pity it. “It must be rough losing all your memories like that.”
I glance down at Rex and realize just how young he is. It’s hard to fathom the weight that bears down on him. “Memories can be painful as well. They can be a heavy burden…”
Rex’s gaze turns to me, maintaining his empathetic expression. “Typhos…”
“It’s not all bad! We do not forget absolutely everything; some things remain,” Crossette interrupts, her voice as cheerful as ever. “And besides, a Blade can live forever as long as the Crystal exists. We get to experience all sorts of times and meet all kinds of people.”
Corvin pats Rex on the shoulder. “Time will pass, no matter how much we might wish it wouldn’t. It is all we can do to enjoy ourselves while it is happening.”
I smile at Corvin. “That’s right. That almost seems like something Addam would say.”
Corvin dramatically sweeps his cape behind him, sarcastically acting high and mighty, “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”
Vandham cackles, rolling his eyes, “Let's get this job done before Blondie’s ego gets too big for that skull of his.” He approaches the fallen Titan and thrusts his entire arm into its body. The body begins to glow, fading into motes of light.
I shudder. “Brings back bad memories,” I playfully bump Gramps’s head.
Vandham removes his hand from the Titan's body, his massive fist clenched around a shining Crystal.
Rex's eyes widen. "That's.. ."
Tora yells, "A Core Crystal! "
Vandham nods. "Well, that’s where they come from—out of Titans. This one's brand new and ready to resonate. It's like a big steak right before you take that first bite. It'll probably end up bonding with a bunch of Drivers..." He sweeps his gaze across our entire group. "Every time the Driver dies, it'll forget everything and return to its core. Eventually, it'll resonate with a new Driver. Drivers dying, Titans dying... The Blade just keeps on living through it all. It's a never-ending cycle, an eternal history. As mortals, we'll never truly understand."
Rex's eyes are wide with awe. "It’s amazing..."
Having completed our job, we return to Garfont for a well-deserved rest. Mórag says we don’t need to worry about training tonight, so we choose to rest and recover instead.
Rex and I sit on a bench in the Training Area, applying medicine to recover from our shared wounds. Vandham trains with Roc, holding a single scythe in the hands of both Blade and Driver. Their attacks clash with one another, the wind threatening to topple over the nearby dummies. The rest of our group mills around nearby, playing around or training in their own ways.
I rub a cotton swab dipped in salve that Nia gave us on one of Rex's wounds.
He winces, "Owowowoww. .."
“C'mon, hold still. "
“Hey, pain is pain, isn’t it? What about you? Are you hurt?”
“It’s just a scratch…”
He grabs the swab from my hand and thrusts it onto a scratch on my leg.
“Ow! Hey, you did that on purpose!”
We continue to bicker until I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Vandham, his eyes fixated on the wounds that Rex and I share.
“What is this?” His eyebrows are tensed, his expression concerned. “I don’t know why a Blade would be stuck with a bunch of wounds. And they’re exactly the same as his!”
I am forced to explain the nature of our bond and how we were bonded in the first place. Vandham listens intently, his gaze never leaving our wounds.
“Absolutely incredible. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” His eyes shift to the angular core in Rex’s chest. “I thought it was just some sort of accessory.”
“Vandham, you know that’s not my style,” Rex defends.
“ Blades are supposed to heal up right away, no matter what the wound. If the crystal's intact and the Driver's alive, nothing can touch them. So why is he all bashed up?”
Rex shrugs. “That’s just how the chips fell, isn’t it?”
Vandham scoffs, shaking his head. “What it is, is a problem. It means that if one of you kicks the bucket, you both do.”
Rex shakes his head, his expression stern. “You said that a good Driver always protects his Blade. I’m never going to let that happen.”
Vandham presses his hand to his temple. “It’s never that simple, kid.”
Rex stands, his expression resolute. “Typhos saved my life—brought me back from the dead! I’m not going to die, and I won’t let Typhos or anyone else die either! I’ve got to live for everyone’s sake! For the world’s sake! At least until we make it to Elysium…”
A familiar voice from ahead speaks, though the figure is obscured by Vandham’s hulking frame. “Elysium? You know we can’t allow that.”
A wave of terror shoots through my chest, and I stand up from my seat, moving around Vandham.
In the center of the Training Area stands Jin, sword drawn. He holds it to his side in a reversed grip, the tip hovering just in front of Dromarch’s Core.
Nia screams from across the Training Area, her face filled with horror. She and Crossette rush over, Nia clutching her bitball tightly in one hand.
Dromarch roars, but it’s not directed at Jin. “My lady! Stay back!”
Jin shakes his head, disappointment evident on his face. “I expected better from you, Nia. You awaken a new, more powerful Blade, and you conveniently forget about your older one?”
Before any of us can react, a pillar of light appears in the center of the courtyard. Corvin appears, both Halteclere and Durandal drawn. He charges forward, and Jin swiftly pulls his sword from Dromarch to block Corvin's strikes.
Corvin roars, his face contorted in rage. “Taking a hostage!? Do you have no honor?”
Jin scoffs, appearing more annoyed than threatened. “Honor? Says the man who fights while wearing a human's leash.” He strikes with lightning speed, faster than I can see.
The strikes cut into Corvin’s form, and his appearance fades into azure light.
Jin rolls his eyes. “So much bravado from a man who fell so easily.”
Rex yells, panic leeching into his voice, “Corvin!”
“Are you talking about me? I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”
Jin's head whips around to face the voice, his eyes widening. “An illusion?”
“You know, I expected better from you, Jin. I've heard so much about the leader of Torna,” Corvin replies, standing with Dromarch and Nia on the other side of the Training Area. “That wasn’t even one of my better tricks.” He winks at Rex
I walk forward, summoning my sword. “That’s enough, Jin. You wouldn’t have taken a hostage if you really wanted to fight tonight.” I don’t even try to make my voice sound friendly. “What is it that you want?”
Jin scoffs. “Your friend is a pain in the ass.”
“Says the man who resorted to taking a hostage!?” Vandham roars.
“Calm down, old man. The Aegis is right; I’m just here to talk.” Jin rolls his eyes, as if the hulking figure in front of him isn’t worth his time.
Rex, now standing at my side and brandishing his steel sword, says, “If you wanted a decent welcome, you should’ve appeared with that sword sheathed, asshole.”
“Fine.” Jin sheaths his sword and throws up his hands in mock deference.
“Bit too late for that, don’t you think?!” Crossette yells, now approaching the man. “You threatened Dromarch and insulted Nia! What makes you think we are going to trust you?!”
Jin takes off his mask, handing it on a belt from his waist. A subconscious gesture that I recognize as one that I also perform.
I take a step back, the sword in my hands fading from my grip. “You know. You never forgot, did you?”
His forehead, previously obscured by his mask, is now revealed to bear a brilliantly shining crimson Core Crystal.
Rex sheaths his sword, his gaze fixated on the Core in Jin’s head. “Addam above, what is wrong with that Core?”
“That Core…” Mórag, her swords still drawn, ponders. Her eyes widen. “No, that’s impossible! Every Country on Alrest had the practice outlawed!”
“No, Mórag,” I say, my body shaking, “He has existed long before the Titans knew this was an issue.”
I find myself laughing, ashamed of myself, “I should have known. Your mask.”
Jin lowers his gaze at me, “So you’ve finally realized?”
“Lora made you that mask. It was never a part of your Core. If you had ever returned to your Core, that mask would have been lost countless years ago.”
“What are you saying?” Rex asks,
“Jin never returned to his Core. When Lora, his last driver, died, he consumed her flesh and became a Blade without a Driver, capable of living on without her.” I explain,
Mórag nods. “A Flesh Eater.”
“Are you done with your science lesson, Aegis?” Jin asks,
“Is that all I am to you, Jin? The Aegis? I think you know that we are connected beyond that.” I spit,
“That is what I am here to ask. Why? Why do you bear my appearance?”
“Oh, maybe because Malos was forced to watch as the body that used to be his brutally murdered one of his friends? How watching the power which he feared so much be used to slaughter someone that he cared for?”
“What does that have to do with me?” Jin says, his tone annoyed,
“When Malos thought of control, of precision, who do you think he thought of, Jin?” I yell, anger lining my tone with venom, “Were you not the one that Malos admired the most, Jin? Loved, even?”
Jin’s eyes widen slightly, but his face remains stoic.
“When Endbringer awakened, the data stored in every Blade on the battlefield’s Core Crystal was observed. When Malos was trying to make a Blade with both control and power, who do you think he first thought of, Jin!?” My voice cracks, but I maintain composure. “So, let me ask you again, am I just the Aegis to you? Or am I something else?”
Jin takes a step back, his face finally begetting a bit of emotion. Shock.
A tear falls from my eye, my voice resonating with another that comes deep within. “What am I, Jin! Tell me!”
Notes:
I've been waiting to close up this tie. I hope it was fulfilling! Please let me know of your thoughts!
jinmalos crumbs
Chapter 25: The Weight on Your Shoulders
Summary:
The past may only be viewed, not altered. No matter how much we regret or mourn the past, one can only face the future.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
The abyss spreads. It moves out from him, the light from our shared cores the only light visible. It envelops us, consuming the surrounding area and everyone standing within.
When I open my eyes, I realize my body is no longer my own. We stand on an elevated plateau, the ground beneath us composed of hewn stone. I feel tall, much taller than I'm used to. In my right hand, I grip an amethyst crystalline sword, its light brighter than anything I have ever seen radiating from within.
I take stock of my surroundings. The stone plateau is directly in front of an enormous Core Crystal, which is clearly damaged beyond repair. The azure light shining from within it flickers, indicating it is on the verge of going out. Beside me stand two Drivers and several Blades.
To my right is a woman with short auburn hair, a braid wrapped around her clenched fist. Next to her is another woman of the same stature and appearance; the only difference between them is their hair color and choice of attire. A voice from within speaks, a timbre deeper than I have recognized previously, “Lora and Haze.” In front of them, with his sword drawn, stands Jin.
On my left is a short young man who wears a feathered crown atop his short navy hair. He confidently brandishes an ornate pair of sword and shield. The same voice states, “Hugo.” I ask myself, “ Like, Mórag’s ancestor ‘Hugo’?” Behind him stand Brighid and Aegeon, weapons at the ready.
Standing directly at my side is a tall, dirty-blonde haired Blade with a Core Crystal tinged with pink, wielding two dagger-like weapons I have never seen before. “Minoth. Praetor Amalthus’ Blade, now turned against him.”
The stone plateau in front of us crumbles to dust, and in the valley below becomes visible from where we stand.
Destruction reigns in the valley below. A tall man with black hair clashes with Mythra, two massive pieces of metal and ash lying behind them. He fights valiantly, waves of darkness surrounding him as he attempts to pierce Mythra with every strike. However, he is losing ground. Mythra skillfully dodges and cuts through the waves of darkness using a massive, pure white sword.
Before I can even formulate the thought to rush down the crumbling mountain to assist him, Mythra’s sword sprouts from the man’s back, and I finally get a proper sight on the man when he turns to face me.
As he crumbles to the ground, the Amethyst Core Crystal in his chest shining brightly as the body surrounding it disappears into a brilliant purple light, absorbing into the Crystal where it now floats in space.
A voice that isn’t mine rips from my throat. “ Malos!” A wave of energy emanates from the Amethyst Core Crystal floating before Mythra. She collapses to the ground, her hands on her temples, screaming in what looks to be pain.
Finally, a familiar voice speaks from my right. “Rex?” I turn to face it and see Haze, though the color of her eyes has shifted. Her once-amber eyes, which she shared with Lora, are now a deep brown. Her form flickers, briefly replaced by Nia’s.
I look to the left, and for a moment, I see Hugo’s form replaced by Mórag’s, and Minoth’s replaced by Vandham’s.
“I never wanted to see this place again,” Jin says, his attention now turning to face us rather than at the battle.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice melding with the voice I heard previously,
Jin looks at Lora where she stands, her horrified gaze locked on the battle, longing lacing his features. “A memory.”
Hugo, no, Mórag asks, “Why aren’t they moving?” Indicating Brighid and Aegeon behind her,
Jin shakes his head. “No matter how much we wish we could, nothing we can do will change the past.”
Another burst of energy from the floating Core Crystal catches our attention again. Mythra’s screams rise in their volume and pain.
A shadowy figure becomes visible surrounding the Core Crystal, a haze of lavender light intermingled with personified darkness. A chain of darkness wraps around Mythra’s waist, and it begins to walk towards us, stepping on the air as if it were solid ground.
Our positions now different from the memories’ original positions; the figures from history separate from us, retaking their original positions.
I now see the person whose role I was fulfilling. A tall, muscular man with silver, casually messy hair.
I know him, I always have. There’s a statue of him in the village where I grew up.
“Addam.”
Nia, still standing next to me, eyes widen. She returns her gaze to the smoky figure who walks in the air, Mythra limp on a leash of darkness. “So that must be… Endbringer?”
Endbringer reaches the plateau where we stand, ash and amethyst light falling from its shadowy figure. He releases Mythra and throws her to the ground next to Addam.
Addam sputters, the sword in his hand seeming to brighten. “Malos? What happened?”
The shadowy figure looks down at Addam, his faceless gaze seeming to bear down on the man who I had only ever seen as invincible.
His voice rings out, seeming almost sourceless, “ Your resolve is insufficient.”
Addam takes a step back, stunned at his words, “Excuse me? What did you do to Malos!?”
“ You care not for yourself, yet you do not have the conviction to bear this world’s weight.” Endbringer continues, his voice flat and deliberate, “ You seek the power of The End, yet you have not the will to make the necessary sacrifice.”
Mythra’s body rises, her body strung on shadow-like strings in the air beside Endbringer.
“ So I will make you choose. ” Endbringer’s gaze bares down on Addam, the sword in Addam’s grip ripping from his hands and floating into the shadows that make Endbringer’s palm. “ You wish for the Lifebearer’s threat to this world to End? Then you will offer a life in exchange.”
Addam sputters, fear lining his features, “W-what?”
“ There must be Balance. As the one who wishes to control this power, you will choose. ”
Addam’s eyes are wide, terror shaking his body uncontrollably. “Please, don’t make me.”
“ YOU WILL CHOOSE. ”
Addam falls to his knees, tears falling from his eyes.
Hugo looks back at Brighid and Aegaeon, and they nod in sync. Hugo walks to Addams's side and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Addam looks up at him, terror registering in his face as he realizes what Hugo is trying to do.
“This weight should not be borne alone. Allow me to carry some of the responsibility, my friend.”
“Hugo, no.” Addam sputters,
“You have to see her. My country will live without me.” Hugo smiles gently. “A child should not be left without a father.”
“But you’ll die!” Addam’s gaze whips to Brighid and Aegaeon. “What about them?”
“They will live on. Blades always will.” Hugo looks up at Endbringer and calls to him, “I, Hugo Ardanach, Emperor of the Empire of Mor Ardain, offer my life in exchange for the Aegis's.”
The monotone voice of the End rings out, his voice shooting terror through me even now. “ With this exchange, the balance will be maintained. May the fate of the world be held in stride.”
Notes:
Memory Stage shenanigans yet again my friends.
When I was writing this, I kept singing "ThunderBringer" from Epic the Musical with Endbringer substituted. a lot of this concept came from thunderbringer ngl
Endbringer through the wringer~
show her I'm the judgement call the one who makes her kingdom fall~
Chapter 26: This Theater's Act
Summary:
Rex and Co. talk with Malos, head to Fonsa Myma, and have a showdown with Torna.
Notes:
Here is BY FAR my longest chapter yet. Literally, most of the in-game events of chapter 3 plus some more occur in this chapter. I really hope you enjoy, I'm so tired lmao
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
The surrounding battle fades away, leaving the five of us standing alone in an empty abyss. An amethyst light glows in the distance; despite the lack of conventional illumination, I can see my friends beside me with perfect clarity.
Mórag steps forward, her voice echoing in the stillness. “So, I have returned. Has Rex's progress been sufficient, Aegis of Darkness?”
A tall man appears in front of Mórag. I recognize him as the one I saw fighting Mythra in the memory. He is massive, easily as tall as Vandham and nearly as muscular.
His presence is imposing; his face is angular and intimidating. Despite his fierce appearance, he smiles. “His progress is evident, Lady Mórag. I appreciate your assistance.”
I step forward and reach Mórag's side in just a few strides. “Are you Typhos’s Brother?”
He nods and reaches out, playfully ruffling my hair. “You don’t need to worry. I don’t bite, I promise.”
Vandham walks up beside me and gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “So, you’re the big guy we’re working towards, huh?”
Malos nods. “I am. But we are not quite at that point yet.” His gaze shifts behind us, focusing on the man in silver. “Jin. I assume Typhos made his opinions on his creation clear?”
Jin replies, his voice stern, “He had more questions than answers, and I don’t understand your motivation for that vision. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to recall.”
“Typhos’s emotions and Rex’s progress as a Driver are what caused me to awaken in this moment; you just happened to be there. I couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t try to stab Rex in the back again while I was showing him the past.”
Jin rolls his eyes. “So I needed babysitting, is that it?”
Malos wraps his arms across his chest, staring disapprovingly at Jin. “If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”
Nia interrupts them, cutting them both off. “Okay, we get it. You hate each other now, but you used to not hate each other. What do you mean by ‘We haven’t reached that point yet’?”
Malos smirks, his gaze flicking between us. “You’ve got a spirited one, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
Malos puts his hand to his face. “Ugh, you’re denser than Addam.” His gaze returns to Nia. “Rex’s progress has steadied my existence in this world. I certainly feel stronger now than I did when I last spoke with Mórag, which allowed me to show you my memories. But I am not yet at the point where I can join you in reality.”
I nod. “Right, okay.”
Vandham interjects, “How much more do you think the kid needs?”
Malos shakes his head. “I’m not sure. The idea of using Rex as an anchor was nothing more than an educated guess, I’m relieved that it is working at all.”
“So the only way we can know for sure is to keep training him and hope that you’ll awaken eventually,” Mórag says, thinking on the idea.
A storm of purple light begins to surround us, and Malos’ form begins to flicker.
“Thank you, Mórag and Vandham. I leave Rex in your capable hands.” He turns to me and pats me on the shoulder, “The weight of the world need not rest on your shoulders alone. Those you trust can bear the weight alongside you. Endbringer believes in Equality, not Equity. Life is not balanced one-to-one. This is why there are 3 of us, so that no one mind or principle has utter control. Believe in yourself and the ones whom you trust.”
The amethyst light overtakes us, and the Memory Stage fades.
When my consciousness returns to my body, I find us back in Garfont. Corvin stands in front of me, waving his palm in front of my eyes and yelling, “Hellooooo, Alrest to Rex? What’s happening here?”
I step back, shaking off the vision from the Memory Stage. “I-I’m okay. Malos wanted to show us something.”
Corvin cocks his head, confusion written across his face. “Okay… What do we do with Mr. Grumpyface, then?” He jabs his thumb behind him, pointing to Jin, who still stands in the center of the training area.
“I have no desire to harm you any more than I already have. Mythra will inevitably disagree, but I will leave you in peace for tonight. Goodbye.” With that, Jin disappears, leaving us standing awkwardly in the training area.
“Well, I guess he handled himself,” I say, turning to Typhos and noticing him by the fence, wiping his eyes.
“You okay, Typhos?” I ask. “That was hard on you.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to lie down; I’ll feel better after some rest.”
“Okay, I won’t be long behind you,” I assure him. Nia and Corvin offer to walk Typhos back to the Inn, and I let them.
Mórag, Vandham, and I gather in the center of the training area, all of us needing a bit of closure after what we just experienced.
“Typhos didn’t exaggerate when he told us about that experience on the warship,” Mórag begins, taking off her hat and letting her hair down, running her fingers through it. “That was not an experience to remember fondly.”
“You could say that again. It’s no wonder he was so torn up about it,” Vandham agrees.
“Endbringer… I truly hope we never reach a point where we have to face him.”
“A truly horrifying figure. The day his power is needed is one I hope never comes,” Mórag confides, her hair now falling freely on her shoulders.
“Never thought I’d see the illustrious Flamebringer let her hair down,” Vandham jokes.
“Don’t expect it again…” Mórag replies, her tone weary.
“I think we need some rest,” I say, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. “Can we sleep in tomorrow? I think we could all use a day off.”
“I concur. A true day of rest is long overdue.” Mórag says, “Do you believe this to be reasonable, Vandham?”
Vandham laughs, though it lacks its usual energy. “Absolutely. Rest well, kids.”
We spend the next day resting, accomplishing nothing productive. Typhos and I sleep until the sun is high in the sky, a stark contrast to the days when we would wake up before its first light.
Our spirits remain tender but optimistic. We do our best to get through the day without letting yesterday's events affect us.
During dinner, we all sit close together. An unspoken understanding passes between us: We should not be apart. We gather around the largest table at the restaurant, relying on one another for the stability we crave. I sit with Typhos and Nia across from Vandham, discussing mundane topics that hold little significance.
“So, what are we going to do tomorrow? Just the usual training and patrol routine?” Nia asks, swirling the food on her plate with a fork.
“So your goal is Elysium, right?” Vandham replies, addressing Nia's question with another.
“Yup. That's our ultimate goal, anyway,” I say.
“Well, there might be someone in Fonsa Myma who has information on how to get there,” Vandham adds.
I drop my fork in surprise. “Really? That would be a great help!”
Vandham nods. “He’s a good friend of mine; I could introduce you.”
“That would be amazing!” I exclaim.
Vandham agrees, saying, “Then we’ll do that tomorrow. We’ll head to Fonsa Myma and see if we can get in some training on the way.”
We arise early the next morning, feeling considerably more rested than the day before. Typhos hasn’t mentioned his experience with Jin or elaborated on what he meant, but we don’t push him.
We meet Vandham by the village gates. He waves and calls out in his boisterous voice, “Just letting you know, it’s a good way to Fonsa Myma. There will be quite a few monsters on the way there, so make sure you’re all kitted out before we leave!”
I turn to Typhos, and we nod. “I think we’re all good!”
“Well, let’s get a move on then!” Vandham replies, taking the lead and guiding us through the area.
“It’s been a while since we went to Fonsa Myma,” Typhos says, recalling the one time we were there.
“Yeah, we’ve never had much of a reason to go,” I reply, glad to see my friend in higher spirits.
We exit the cave that Garfont leads us into and step into an area called the Cobalt Cliffs. Before we can continue, a voice echoes through the surroundings. “Hahaha! I guess all that talk about the Aegis was true!”
“Huh? Who are you?” I call out into the open area.
A cloaked pair steps out from behind a large rock; one of them carries an utterly massive sword on their shoulder. The larger one is tall, much taller than me, but still shorter than Vandham and Malos. The one beside him is small, and the only thing visible beneath her hood is a large pair of circular glasses.
The larger one speaks, “That’s a heavy burden you have there. Are you sure you can handle it, pipsqueak?” He gestures dramatically, emphasizing his point with flourish, mirroring the small woman beside him. “See sense; step aside and let the big boys take charge.”
He whirls around, striking a pose with dramatic flair alongside his companion. “Come on, yield the merchandise!”
I look to Vandham. “Huh, do you know this guy?”
Vandham shakes his head. “Nope, never seen him before.”
The assailants throw off their cloaks, revealing their appearances. The man is a large, gray-haired, muscular figure dressed in a flowing, robe-like outfit that leaves the center of his chest exposed, complemented by an out-of-place eyepatch. The small woman is a Blade, with turquoise hair and a mechanical-looking azure core. She wears a short, purple flared shirt and matching shorts.
I scrutinize the man’s appearance. “Are you…?”
The man strikes a pose, clearly expecting us to recognize him.
“Nope, I don’t get it,” I admit, giving up on trying to identify him.
The man sighs. “You really are a bunch of rinky-dink, bogus, two-bit, no-mark Drivers, aren't you?”
He approaches us, taking dramatic, exaggerated steps. “Behold the mighty… Zeke! Von! Genbu!” He flexes, and every action is mirrored by his Blade companion. “Bringer of Chaos! Wielder of the mighty Eye of Shining Justice!”
I cock my head to the side, confused by his flamboyant antics. “Huh?”
“Mostly known as Zeke, or the ZEKENATOR!” He spreads his hands wide, drawing attention to his Blade. “And this is my Blade, Pandoria!” The Blade poses, mimicking her Driver’s haughty persona. He draws the sword from his back and swings it around, wielding it as if it were made of paper despite its mighty size. “And this is my sword, the Purple Lightning Dreamsmasher!”
“You truly are far from home, aren’t you, Prince Ozychlyrus of Tantal?” Mórag says, now standing at my side. “Or would you prefer if I referred to you as ‘Thunderbolt Zeke’?”
Zeke sputters, his confident bravado now deflated. “F-Flamebringer? What are you doing in Uraya ?”
“Mórag, you’re telling me this goon is a prince? ” Nia asks, clearly amused.
“Quite the infamous one, at that. He goes by many names, one of them being ‘The Prodigal Prince.’”
“M-Mórag! Give them my entire lineage while you’re at it!” Zeke exclaims.
Mórag shrugs. “Sure. Your father is King Eulogiminos, your mother is Queen Isolde, who has sadly passed from this world—”
“I was kidding, Flamebringer!” Zeke yells, his face turning red.
“How do you know this guy, Mórag?” I ask.
“We were childhood friends, of sorts. Our mothers were good friends, and Mor Ardain has a working relationship with Tantal. We spent a lot of time together as children.”
“I still have dreams about Mórag’s mother’s Sand Salmon Casserole…” Zeke interjects, his mouth watering. He quickly regains his composure and adds, “But that’s beside the point! I’m here for the Aegis; hand them over!”
Mórag laughs , as if Zeke’s demand is the most ridiculous thing in the world. “No, you’re not.”
Zeke sputters, “Mórag! Let me do this, at least!”
Mórag smirks, waving her arm in a dismissive gesture. “Sure, all right. Do as you wish.”
I laugh, the tension from his supposed threat dissipating. “So, let me guess, we fight, you lose, and you leave.”
“Hah! You’ll regret your confidence, kid! Pandoria!-” He looks to the side and gasps in horror when he sees Pandoria is distracted, locked in what seems to be an intense gossip session with Brighid.
“And then , my Prince is attacked by the boar and is launched off a cliff! It took two days' worth of fishing to get him out of the Cloud Sea-” Pandoria gossips,
“How does he survive that?” Brighid laughs,
“His head is naturally buoyant.” Pandoria shrugs,
“Pandoria!” Zeke yells, absolutely mortified,
We break into a fit of laughter, and Zeke yells, “Y-you’ll regret this! This isn’t the last you’ll see of me!” He grabs Pandoria’s arm and sprints down the path, faster than what seems to be physically possible.
Typhos cracks up in laughter, wiping a tear from his eye, “I guess that’s why they call him Thunderbolt.”
Poppi calls, “Zeke is cuckoo.”
Nia gives the Blade a high five, “You said it, girl.”
Our journey to Fonsa Myma passes without incident. When we arrive at the outskirts of the city, we see many ships docked for repair, many of which appear to be warships.
“War with Mor Ardain seems more likely by the day,” Dromarch comments, his fur looking more bristled than usual.
“Looks like they’ve expanded the military program; that’s a lot of warships,” Vandham says, wincing as he avoids eye contact with Mórag.
Mórag looks disappointed and sad. “I must inform His Majesty. We never wanted this…”
Nia’s eyes widen, and she stops in her tracks. “Wait, Mor Ardain doesn’t want war?”
Mórag shakes her head. “I would be lying if I said there weren't certain warmongering members of the nobility who desire conflict, but it has always been His Majesty’s wish for peace.”
“Huh. Never would’ve guessed. Although, I can’t say I’ve ever been a big fan of how Mor Ardain altered their Titans. It doesn’t look comfortable.” Nia gestures toward Mórag in a slightly submissive way. “N-no offense.”
“None taken, although I must ask…” Mórag turns her gaze to Gramps, who sits in a small hood that I altered into the clothes Vandham provided. “Are the modifications we make to our Titans painful? We always try to ensure their comfort.”
Gramps throws his hands up. “I wouldn’t know. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it, either. If they were unhappy, they wouldn’t stick around.”
We proceed into the city, trying to stay close so we don’t get separated.
“Jeez, I forgot how busy the capital city is,” Typhos says, seeming in awe of the area around us.
I find myself looking around with the same sense of wonder. “Yeah, I understand. There’s so much going on here.”
“It’s a lot more bustling than Torigoth, for sure,” Nia adds, finding amusement in our reactions.
Crossette skates off towards a sweets shop. “Nia! We’ve got to try this!”
Nia scoffs, smiling gently. “Jeez, the sweet tooth on that one.” She yells back to Crossette, “We can check it out later! We’ve got business to take care of!”
Crossette groans, “Niaaaa!”
Corvin, who walks in front of us, calls back, “Hey Rex, should we look at Core Chips?”
“Hmm, let's wait until the rush has calmed down. It's a bit hard to navigate,” I suggest.
Corvin nods, and we continue to follow Vandham through the crowd. We make our way through the city and climb a set of stairs. At the top of the stairs, we reach an open area with a table set up next to the building. A line has formed in front of the table, where a small blue-haired girl stands meekly at the front.
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
“A distribution center,” Vandham explains. “Many people in the area are struggling, so the government distributes some resources to the citizens.”
The distributor hands a meager ration to the blue-haired girl, calling out, “Okay, that’s the last one for the day!”
A man standing behind the girl suddenly pushes her aside, grabbing the ration from the distributor instead. He looks down at the girl and yells, “C’mon! I’m a soldier, busting my ass for this country! That should go to me, not to someone like you!”
Crossette's horns spark, and she shouts in anger, rushing to the girl's side. “Who do you think you are!? She’s just a child!” She turns her attention back to the girl. “Are you okay? Do you need any healing?”
The little girl replies, “N-no, I’m okay.”
Corvin, now standing beside Crossette, barks at the man, “Isn’t it a soldier’s duty to protect the weak? It sure as Morytha doesn’t give you the right to abuse a common person!”
The man, surprised by their resistance, retorts, “Who the hell are you?”
“Sometimes being an adult means making sacrifices for those who need it more! You're a grown, healthy man. Clearly, you have enough going for you!” Crossette yells, positioning herself between the girl and the man.
The man draws twin rings, the same type as Nia's. “Who do you brats think you are?”
Suddenly, Corvin multiplies, appearing in several places at once, his swords remaining sheathed. In the background, I notice one of the copies grabbing something from Crossette.
The man slashes wildly, every illusion moving and swaying in synchronized movements.
When the man loses his balance, one of the copies moves forward, a brown ball in his palm. He thrusts the ball into the man's chest, and a small explosion goes off. The man flies backward, crashing into a nearby wall.
The illusions fade, and Corvin and Crossette find themselves standing at the center of the area. They exchange a high-five before turning their attention back to the girl.
The girl's eyes sparkle with awe as she gazes up at her newfound saviors. “W-wow! You were amazing!”
Corvin pats her on the head. “It’s all in a day's work, kiddo. Now go get your ration.”
He glares at the rest of the people waiting in line. “Does anyone else feel this isn’t deserved?”
A couple of people quickly respond, “No,” and the line disperses.
Once the crowd thins out, the girl approaches our group again. Her eyes roam around until they settle on Vandham, and her face lights up with recognition. She runs over to him, a bright smile spreading across her face. “Mister Vandham!”
Vandham lets out a hearty laugh, leaning down to get closer to her eye level. “Well, if it isn’t Iona! You’ve grown quite a bit. How is Grandpa Cole doing?”
The joyful expression on her face dims, and she looks down at the ground.
Vandham winces and gently places a hand on Iona’s small shoulder. “Ah, not so good then.”
I step up beside Vandham and ask, “Who’s this?” I lean down next to him, and Iona’s eyes are drawn to the Core in my chest. A glimmer of light returns to her eyes, if only slightly.
“What a pretty color…” she says, smiling gently.
Vandham laughs and stands up alongside me. “This is Iona. That friend I mentioned takes care of her.”
“Would you mind taking us to Grandpa Cole?” Vandham asks, and Iona nods enthusiastically, nearly toppling over in her excitement.
We follow her into a nearby building, and she leads us to a small back room.
Vandham calls out, “Comin’ in, old fella!”
He kneels to enter the doorway, and our group follows behind him. Not everyone can fit, so Nia, Mórag, and their Blades remain outside.
“Crikey, still collecting junk, aren’t you?”
“Watch it, you bruiser! Don’t make fun of an old man’s hobbies!” an older man replies, turning to face us. His skin is wrinkled, and his hair is light—once maybe blonde or even orange—but now it’s impossible to tell.
“Some greeting for your old comrade!”
“Comrade?” I ask, curious.
“Yeah, I was a freelancer before I started the firm. We tore up quite a few battlefields in our day!”
Cole laughs. “Sure did. And thanks to your bleeding heart, we almost never got paid!”
“Hahaha! Says the guy in the theater troupe! You can’t be raking in too much dough either.”
“Hmmph. So, what can I do for you, old friend?”
“Cole, you’re old enough to know how to get to Elysium, aren't you?”
Cole’s eyes widen. “Elysium? But why? Why would you want to go there?” His gaze flickers across the room, landing on Typhos’s Core. “That Core Crystal! You… you’ve returned!”
Recognition flashes on Typhos’s face, and he steps forward. “Minoth?”
“So you haven’t forgotten. I almost thought you would after all these years.”
“Minoth? Isn’t that…?” I ask, looking at Typhos.
Typhos smiles. “Yes!”
Cole’s expression darkens. “Though, I suppose if you’ve come all the way here, something must be stopping you from going there right now.”
Typhos presses his fingers to his temple. “It would take hours to explain…”
Cole waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. A long time ago, there was a man who climbed the World Tree and even met the Architect.”
“Wait, really?” I ask, intrigued.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it, but I’d like to have a word with him—the Aegis, I mean.”
[TYPHOS]
“I must say, when Vandham mentioned that he had a friend who might know how to get to Elysium, you weren’t the person I had in mind, Minoth,” I say, looking around the small room that Minoth had led me into. Books are stacked precariously, with unfinished manuscripts littering every open space. “I see you finally made something of your beloved stories.”
“You could say that,” Minoth replied with a laugh, his voice rough and worn. “Though, I left the name Minoth behind a long time ago. These days, I go by Cole.”
“Oh? If that’s what you prefer,” I say, still taking a cursory glance around the room, fascinated by how much he has accomplished over the years.
“However, you won’t like the route you’ll have to take if you follow my advice,” Cole remarks, observing my interest in the surroundings.
“Yes, I assumed as much,” I reply, finally focusing my attention back on the man in front of me. “Amalthus, right?”
Cole nods and pulls something from a drawer, handing it to me. “You remember the laws of his Sight, correct? He cannot see anything related to himself or his Blades. So as long as you have this…”
I look down at what he is handing me, my eyes widening in surprise. “Your Blade weapon?”
“Present it to Amalthus if you want to curry favor or keep it on you if you wish to deceive him. I have no qualms either way. Get the information you need and get out. Do not trust that man any further than you can see him.”
“Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it.” I say, smiling as confidently as I can manage,
“That boy…He reminds me of a certain someone.” Cole says, indicating the door separating us from Rex,
I nod. “The resemblance is uncanny. Even if not in appearance, in spirit. His name is Rex, he has a good heart.”
He looks at my Core, where it is separated, and nods. “Malos, has he been lost to this world?”
I shake my head. “Very nearly, but no. That’s one of the only things keeping us from just heading straight to the world tree. We want to have his power before we do so. It’ll be a second before he’s able to join us, though.”
“Sounds about righ-” Cole’s words are interrupted by a coughing fit, racking his entire body with harsh, rasping breaths.
I rush to the door and open it. “Something’s wrong with Cole!”
Iona, waiting on the other side of the door with Rex and Vandham, yells, “Grandpa!”, rushing into the room.
“Old man! You gonna be okay?” Vandham calls, seeming concerned, but like the situation is not entirely unexpected.
“I’ll be fine.” Cole manages between coughs, his gaze turning to me, “If you want me to explain the situation to the boy, come back anytime.”
I nod, turning to Rex. “Let’s go. We have everything we need; let’s let the old man get some rest.”
I turn to Cole as we exit the building. “Take care of yourself. I’ll try and make sure we visit before too long.”
“Don’t go out of your way on my behalf.” Cole waves.
[MYTHRA]
“Jin, that pain in the ass. We could’ve had the Aegis already if it weren’t for that bleeding heart of his,” I say, standing in front of the theater.
“I suppose it wouldn’t have been much of an interesting tale had he just taken him,” Akhos replies, smirking as he adjusts his glasses.
We enter the building, snapping the cheap locks holding the doors in place. “Such feeble defenses when you’re up against an Aegis,” I remark, walking through the empty theater.
“Judging by the Ether signature, he’s down this hall,” Akhos says, leading the way through the dark corridors of the unlit theater.
We come to an open door, where a faint light spills into the hallway. A pathetic shell of a man leans over a desk in the corner of the room.
“Well, I’ll be. Just one blast from the past after another today.” He turns to face us, his expression blank.
“Why, hello, dear Minoth,” I greet, sweeping a loose strand of hair from my shoulder. “I hear you had a meeting with a certain someone earlier tonight.”
“I’m afraid I cannot help you, dear ‘Comrade.’ The Aegis is already long gone.”
A faint presence appears behind me, attempting to hide in the doorway. It seems Minoth still has his urge to take in strays.
“What a shame. But we may be able to help you,” I say, intentionally loud enough for the girl lurking at the door to hear.
“Obrona and I could fix that stagnant Ether flow of yours,” Akhos chimes in, laying it on thick. “You could have a great deal of years ahead of you. ‘Old man’ is merely a state of mind.”
Minoth laughs bitterly. “I suppose you’d know. But it’s a shame that I am not as attached to my life as you hope.”
“What about your little ones? The ‘family’ you’ve put together?” I ask him.
“They’re strong. They can make it without me.”
Akhos, his patience wearing thin, presses on. “C’mon, old man! Think of all the benefits! All the children you could help and inspire!”
Minoth shakes his head, his expression resolute. “There are others who can play my role. I merely occupy the stage.”
“What a farce,” Akhos retorts. “Break a leg, old man.”
We step out of the room, closing the door behind us. I walk down the hall, pretending to notice the little girl for the first time.
“Oh, my. What do we have here?” I say, turning to face the girl hiding at the end of the hallway.
“My, you don’t need to be shy, little one,” Akhos encourages.
The little girl steps out of the shadows, looking up at me with hope. “Can you really help Grandpa?”
I kneel, offering my hands in a mock embrace. “Of course, my dear. In exchange, I only need a bit of… cooperation.”
[REX]
I wake with a start, suddenly uncertain of where I am. Once my mind clears, I recognize my surroundings as the Urayan inn where Vandham took us after meeting with Cole.
I turn to my left, expecting to see Typhos asleep in the bed next to mine, but it’s empty. “Huh. I guess he woke up early?”
I quickly get dressed and prepare for the day ahead. When I exit the room, I see Vandham speaking with Cole in the doorway of the inn.
“Calm down, old man. What happened?” Vandham asks, concern etched on his features.
“It’s Iona! She’s gone! It must’ve been... them...” Cole sputters, gasping for air.
“Who’s 'them'?” I ask, patting Cole on the back.
“Mythra and some other guy. They came to visit me after you all left last night.”
“Mythra was there?” I take a step back, surprised.
Nia, now standing next to me, asks, “Who was the other guy?”
Cole shakes his head. “I never caught his name. He had blue armor and red glasses.”
Nia curses. “Akhos.” She looks around, taking stock of our group, which is now joining us in the lobby after overhearing our raised voices. “Wait, where’s Typhos?”
“Is he not here? I thought he got up before me,” I say, glancing around the lobby for him. “Has no one seen him?” I ask, but receive no response.
“Did he figure out what was happening with Iona?”
Cole considers it for a moment and nods. “Knowing those two, that’s not impossible.”
“Typhos... Why did you think you couldn’t ask for help?”
“I think I know where they would have gone,” Cole begins. “The Olethro Ruins.”
“The Olethro Ruins?” I ask.
“It’s where Addam led his Army of Resistance from. It’s also where the Aegis awakened.”
I turn to Vandham. “Do you know where this place is?”
“Of course. Who do you take me for, an amateur?” Vandham replies, though his expression remains stoic.
“Lead the way!” I urge, and Vandham takes off, with Roc following close behind.
He guides us through Fonsa Myma until we quickly arrive at the base of a massive set of stairs. Vandham charges up, and we follow closely behind.
About halfway up the steps, a sharp pain jabs through my shoulder. “Ah!” I lose my balance and almost slip down the slick stone stairs.
“Rex, are you okay?” Mórag calls out.
Without looking back, I yell, “I’m fine! Typhos must be fighting on his own.”
We sprint up the steps, and as we near the summit, the sounds of battle fill the air.
A familiar voice calls out, “You’ll never get your hands on Malos’ power! And I won’t let you hurt anyone else to get it!”
I hear the sound of rushing water, which abruptly stops.
“Oh, my dear, you know you can’t stop me like that.”
At my side, Corvin asks, “You ready?”
I nod, and he hands me Halteclere. I draw the steel sword and prepare for battle.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I immediately charge at the familiar figure of Mythra.
“Well, maybe we can!” I shout.
I dive in from above, bringing both swords down on Mythra, but she blocks my attack with the pole of her scythe. She grins, laughing maniacally. “Yes! I knew the boy would come!”
She throws me backward, and I manage to land on my feet next to Typhos as the rest of our group exits the stairwell. “You okay, Typhos?”
He nods. “A little worse for wear, but overall okay.”
I glance back at Mythra, finally taking stock of our other enemies. A black-haired man with red glasses stands beside a floating, humanoid Blade with golden wings. Mythra is paired with Phantylia, though the once ethereal Blade looks worse for wear. Her hair is unkempt and she looks exhausted. Her wings lack the shine they once had.
“Vandham! You take care of Iona!” I call,
“Got her!” I turn my head to the stands of the amphitheater-like area we are standing in and see Vandham cradling an unconscious Iona.
I charge towards Mythra, Corvin close behind.
Our weapons clash, though my training with Vandham and Mórag has put me in a much better spot when facing her. Light flickers around us, but I am making no ground. I just haven’t trained enough with Corvin.
I jump back and hand Halteclere back to Corvin. “You’ll be better off fighting with this.”
Corvin nods, and I draw Typhos’ sword from where it hangs on my back.
I return to battle with Mythra. Before I can close the distance, a bitball is launched at Mythra, colliding with her in the face.
She recoils, “Ouch! Who the hell aims for the face!?”
“Thanks Nia!” I call, aiming my anchor at Mythra’s foot.
The anchor fires, and I pull it taught, wrapping it around her ankle. “Topple!” I call, yanking with all of my might. She collides with the ground, her head snapping harshly against the hewn stone.
Vandham seems to materialize out of nowhere, falling from the sky with twin scythes in hand. He drives both scythes upwards, launching her into the air. Corvin appears behind her, driving Halteclere into her side. “Smash!”
She collides with the ground, screaming in pain. Before we can continue our assault, a blast of light shoots outward, sending us sprawling.
Mórag and Tora are facing Akhos, Mórag being more than a match for Akhos. Flames whirl around them, the heat haze distorting her form, making it seem like she is in multiple places at once.
Mythra’s face is a mask of pain and anger, her hair a mess around her shoulders. “Okay, that’s it. I am done .” She tosses her scythe aside, a cracked emerald Core Crystal appearing in her hand. Around it forms a chipped, destroyed sword, with an immense flow of pure light shooting from it.
Akhos, face reddened with anger and exertion, calls out, “Obrona! Let’s cut this tale short.”
Obrona cackles, “Is it time for the final act?” She floats high up into the air and spreads her wings, red particles appearing in the air around her.
Mythra disappears. She appears in front of me, slamming the hilt of her sword into my head. I fall back, collapsing onto the ground.
“Rex!” Corvin charges Mythra, drawing Durandal. He slashes in a multitude of strikes, each faster than I can see, but somehow, Mythra avoids each one. In a single, fluid motion, she cuts into Corvin, sending him flying.
I hear a scream, and look to the side, to see Mórag being pushed back, Phantylia launching blasts of lightning in her direction while Akhos whirls at her with dual daggers, the flames on the ground sputtering out.
“H-how?” I rise, albeit unsteadily, and attempt to channel Ether into Typhos’ sword.
There’s no response.
“Rex. The Ether, it’s gone!” Typhos sputters, flicking his hands through the air, trying to summon his water.
“Something is going on with Mythra, too. I’ve never seen anyone dodge Corvin?”
“You see, Blades draw their power from atmospheric ether energy. They send their power to the crystal, where it manifests… But...what if we were to interrupt the flow?” Akhos coos,
“The power is draining out of my weapons!” Nia calls, holding both her Bitball and a ring in each hand.
“It’s no good, I can’t transfer power, my lady!”
Multiple orbs of light appear next to each of our feet, and they detonate. Every single one of us is knocked off our feet.
Typhos sputters, “T-that’s impossible. You shouldn’t have this much power. You should be dead , much less able to use any amount of power!”
“Y’know, I thought the same thing at first,” Mythra says, taking clear pleasure in his pain. “And, I think I was , at first, anyway.”
“How?” I ask, “Death isn’t supposed to be something you can come back from.” I wince, pain from the explosion returning,
“I’m not entirely certain what brought me back, but if I had to guess…” Mythra rips the sheet of armor from her chest, revealing the shattered, damaged Core Crystal beneath it. “A power that was entrusted to me as an Aegis, the power to regenerate over time. I am the life bearer, after all.”
“Then why? If you were given another chance, why are you chasing after Typhos?” I yell, rising to my feet.
“Maybe it’s because I want to? There are a lot of people who have qualms with this so-called Aegis.” She points the end of her sword beneath my feet, creating another explosion that sends me sprawling.
“I think, this is where I will start.” She points the sword at Typhos, and a ray of light envelops him. A scorching pain surrounds me, burning into me.
“ AAAAAAH!” We scream in unison,
“Rex!” Vandham calls, but his voice sounds distant. Like a single droplet of rain during a hurricane, his voice is drowned out.
My chest feels like it's being torn apart from the inside out, energy branching out from the Core Crystal in my chest.
A pulse of energy blasts outward, and Mythra stops the attack. When she gets sight on us, she begins to laugh. “How pathetic do you look!? What happened to being the Aegis’ Driver.”
Vandham rushes to my side, standing over me. “You will not harm him any further!”
I reach out to him, my voice cutting through my throat, echoing despite our open aired surroundings. “N-No, Vandham, run!”
He turns around, looking at Typhos. His eyes widen, terror lining his features.
Typhos form is fading. The outer layer of his body is falling off in flakes, leaving emptiness in its place. Lavender light and ash begin to fall from the wound. His eyes flicker between their usual light purple and an empty, void black.
The pain spreads out from the Core in my chest, enveloping my body in a cold agony.
I feel it reaching out, longing to connect with its other half. Its voice rings out in my head, “ Why fight it? This is the only way for you to win.”
Mythra bellows in laughter, blasting Vandham to the side. “So, the true star of the show is coming out to play.” Her grin spreading ear to ear, her hair almost seeming to glow, she says, “Come out, Endbringer! Come dance with me, dear little Brother!”
The world slows to a stop, the world around me turning to a dull grayscale.
I find myself standing above my own body, an ephemeral spirit separate from the mangled body anchored to the ground.
I call out into the empty surroundings, “Give it up, Endbringer! I’m not going to sacrifice anyone for this threat to be vanquished! You didn’t even finish the job last time!”
“ You mistake me, Addam’s Future.” A voice echoes from the surroundings, the grayscale world around me fading away.
The abyss surrounds me, though instead of the amethyst light I expect to find in the distance, there is now a vibrant emerald.
Standing in front of me is an avatar of verdant light, an undamaged emerald Core crystal in the center of its being.
“W-who are you?” I ask, my confidence fading. “Y-you’re not Endbringer.”
The figure laughs in a gentle, comforting timbre. “No, that I am not. Though, if we were to use that etymology, the title of Lifebearer would be fitting.”
“How? Why?” I ask,
“The how isn’t important.” The figure shakes her head and continues, “I’m here to present you with a deal. An exchange of sorts.”
I start, but she interrupts me, “Don’t worry, I won’t require life in exchange.” The form flickers for a moment but returns to normalcy. “Human life, anyway.”
“What do you want? And what are you offering?” I ask, still skeptical of the figure in front of me.
“If you promise to kill Mythra, I can suppress Endbringer within you. While it would offer you immeasurable power, it is my understanding that you dislike his… ‘Requirements’”
“Okay.. But why? If you are Lifebearer, why would you want me to kill her? Isn’t that counterproductive to you?”
“Mythra is an active detriment to the message of the Lifebearer. She has the urge to kill, to rule over a group of people whom she deems to be her ‘family’. That man has twisted her beyond proportion.”
“Okay… I’ve never been the ‘killing’ type, though.” I say, doubting my own resolve.
“I have not finished.” Lifebearer continues, her voice monotone but oddly comforting.
“If you agree to this exchange, I can offer her to you.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” I ask,
An emerald storm starts up, The Lifebearer’s form flickering.
“Rex, you must give me your word. You may either take these boons, in exchange for stopping Mythra for good, or you may be left to your demise.”
“F-fine! If it means moving forward, then yes. I’ll kill Mythra, if it comes down to it.”
The figure chuckles, “That will have to do, then. I wish you well, Rex.”
The abyss fades, leaving me back on the ground in Olethro Ruins. The burning pain in my chest is gone, and I look to the side to see Typhos, fast asleep and clearly injured, but nothing more.
I look up to Mythra, to see her frozen in place, a face of agony stuck on her face. After a long moment, she collapses to her knees, screaming in pain.
Her core shines, looking like it could explode. A brilliant verdure light launches from her chest, then descends in front of me, floating in space in front of me.
A chipped and slightly cracked emerald Core Crystal floats in space in front of me.
“W-what’s that?” Nia murmurs, covered in wounds from the battle and constant explosions.
I reach out and touch the Core.
I’m standing on the hill in Elysium, the warm wind blowing across my arms, soothing my mind and my soul.
I turn around and see a girl walking up the hill. She wears red and black, with short, red hair. Two long capelike attachments to her clothing flap in the wind behind her as she walks up the hill. As she gets closer, I notice something.
The bottom of her hair is scorched and burnt, dropping small pixels of emerald light from her head with each step. Her left hand is made of green light, seeming to almost lack solid form. A crack descends from below her left eye down her jawline.
Despite all of this, she’s pretty. She walks with a gentle grace, yet strong confidence.
When she reaches the hill’s zenith, she stands next to me, and I turn around to look into the distance alongside her. After a quiet moment, she says,
“My name is Pyra, what’s yours?”
Notes:
What do you think? I'm super proud of this chapter, especially the moment with Zeke. Tell me what you like, what you don't, all comments welcome!
Chapter 27: A Sister's Blessing
Summary:
The scales of morality cannot be balanced using only black and white, for truth is found in shades of grey.
Notes:
It's a shorter chapter this time. I wanted to update, but I'm busy studying for exams, so I hope this is entertaining!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[ Τυφῶς]
I drift alone in a sea of unconsciousness. The pitch darkness around me flows, seeming to nip at the border where my consciousness meets the void.
“ Why must you continue to resist?” Finality hisses into my mind, his words laced with malice, “ Your resolve is insufficient. ”
I try to rage, to fight back against the dark tide that envelops my mind.
“That man’s weakness has infected you. You rely on the laws of this world, leaning on them as a crutch.” His voice shifts to a slow, deliberate whisper. “Just as She who Bears Life was corrupted, He who Signals the End has fallen as well.”
My efforts to combat his hold fail. The strength that once supported me no longer heeds my call.
Suddenly, the tide around me swells, threatening to drown the meager hold my consciousness maintains. But just as quickly as it rises, the waves calm.
An emerald light shines from above, illuminating the darkness surrounding me.
A calmer, feminine voice speaks , “And this is how you choose to solve your problem? You would drown your own emissary in the tide?”
The light descends from the empty sky, stopping just above my chest. It branches out, forming arms that gently lift me from the depths below.
A crystalline barrier of shimmering emerald arises beneath us, and I am placed gently on my feet upon it. My body is illuminated by the barrier, making my form visible. A Core Crystal floats beside me, and in an instant, a body becomes apparent.
She is shorter than I am, with short turquoise hair. She wears a tight azure bodysuit with twin capes fluttering beside her. The emerald Core Crystal in her chest shines brightly, keeping the tide at bay around the sides of the platform.
“You would tie yourself to a form? Limit yourself to your connection with your vessel?” The voice of the End inquires,
“I think that you would find yourself less rigid if you chose to do so.” The woman extends her arm, gazing down at the body she has formed.
“ We were created to embody single purposes. Rigidity is the single boon we have over our counterparts, sister. ”
“Boon? Morality is not shaded in black and white, brother. This very reason is why we are only meant to oversee our other parts.” The woman continues calmly, her gaze now steadied in front of her, gazing into the abyss in front of her.
“ Your empathy blinds you, sister.”
“And your scales control you. You are proving the very reason why primary control was given to the ones with personality. The truth lies in shades of grey.”
I find my voice, sputtering out, “W-who are you? Why are you here?”
She turns to me, smiling gently, “You needn’t worry, as it matters not, child. I shall remain here, and keep our brother entertained.”
“Can you at least tell me your name?” I beg,
“Just as our sibling is the beginning, and you lay at the end, I am she who stands in between. Both everything and nothing.” She places a gentle hand on my shoulder, “You will rise. Take care of our sister for me.”
My consciousness stirs to the sound of crackling flames.
Notes:
I asked a question in a comment earlier, so I'll just copy and paste it here for visibility.
I am thinking of making a new Original Character for this series. Nothing out of the blue, but I'm hoping it will be interesting, but I am going to make them a Blade Eater.
Would you guys prefer that they are Blade Eaters who summon weapons from their Core Crystal like Mikhail or just drive a normal Blade like Zeke? Aka, would you rather them act as a Driver or a Blade?And if you want them to drive a Blade, what Blade should I give them? Or would you prefer I give them an OC Blade to go along with them?
I have no preference, but I wanted to check if anyone had any strong feelings one way or the other. LMK!
Chapter 28: Duality of Flames and Water
Summary:
Pyra and Lifebearer awaken, guiding Rex and Typhos towards truth.
Notes:
Here's a chapter that actually has some substance. I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Elysium fades away, and I find myself back in the Olethro Ruins. The emerald Core Crystal now floats in my hands, glowing brightly. Suddenly, a crimson hilt forms around the Core, connected to a golden handle. At the other end of the hilt, a golden blade flickers into place.
However, the blade looks wrong. It is filled with holes, dulled and chipped, with verdant light spilling from the empty spaces in the broken sword.
As I lay there, Pyra begins to materialize from the green light surrounding me. She looks exactly as she did in Elysium, her hand and feet replaced with emerald light.
She turns to face me and offers me her shining green hand. I hesitate but eventually take it, my apprehension fading as I realize it feels solid. With surprising strength, she hoists me to my feet.
“Is your sword broken?” I ask, my gaze falling on the short, damaged blade in my hands.
Pyra nods. “The appearance of both my form and the sword is due to the damage Mythra sustained in the Aegis War. Don’t worry; it won’t affect my performance.”
"That’s not what I’m worried about! Are you in pain?” I say, my eyes darting to her shattered Core Crystal.
She laughs softly, “No, I assure you, I’m fine.”
“What did you do to her!?” Akhos exclaims, rushing to Mythra’s side as she struggles on the ground.
Pyra’s expression hardens. She glares at the pair before her. “I would assume that having a significant portion of your Core’s data ripped away wouldn’t feel pleasant,” she states coldly, her voice devoid of any emotion.
“What?” a quiet voice from behind us asks, and I turn to see Nia. She is covered in wounds, her hair a scorched mess from the explosions.
I rush to her. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’ll survive. But where did she come from?” she asks, indicating Pyra.
“It’s a long story,” I reply, shaking my head.
“Ugraaahhh!” Mythra screams, rising to her feet. Motes of light surround her, flickering and bursting in disorienting flashes. “Akhos?”
Akhos takes a step back, horrified at the sight of his ally’s condition. “Yeah?”
“They die.”
Akhos nods, drawing the daggers from his side. “If that is what you desire.” He tries to speak confidently, but his voice reveals his uncertainty.
Mythra charges, her damaged sword in hand. Before I can react, the sword in my hand disappears, flickering into Pyra’s grasp. The broken swords collide, flames and light clashing in the air.
I turn to Nia. “Pyra and I will handle this. Go see if you can heal the others.”
She shakes her head violently and points to the sky. Obrona is still floating there, the crimson motes of light indicating that the Ether field remains active.
I quickly look back to Pyra, who is still unleashing flames from her sword, creating a massive blade of pure heat that compensates for the lack of a sharp edge.
“Pyra!” I call out, and in response, she kicks Mythra in the chest, sending her flying back to the edge of the ruins. Pyra leaps back to stand at my side.
“How are you using your Ether? Obrona is making it so that only they can access it.”
She glances back at Typhos, who appears to be beginning to stir. “You mean he couldn’t?” Confusion creases her face.
“No, of course he couldn’t,” I reply, surprised by her question.
“I can see why your friends struggled in this field, but Typhos should have been fine. An Aegis doesn’t need to rely on Ether.”
Mythra recovers from the strike and charges toward us, a manic look in her eyes.
Pyra’s focus returns to Mythra, and understanding dawns on her face. She smiles, “In fact…”
Pyra drops to her knees and thrusts her burning sword into the ground. Despite its dull edge, the blade sinks up to its hilt in the solid stone.
“Flames of Life and Death!”
A wave of heat erupts outward, and the entire amphitheater is bathed in fire. A roaring wall of flame erupts around us, towering high and blocking Iona from view, obscuring where she lies limp on the steps.
Mythra stops moving, eyeing Pyra cautiously.
Akhos sputters, whirling around to look for an opening. “This should be impossible! You shouldn’t be able to do this!”
Pyra scoffs, still leaning on her sword. “For someone who prides himself on playing his role so well, you’re rather one-dimensional.”
“Excuse me?” Akhos steps forward, his earlier apprehension replaced by rage.
Pyra rises, pulling the sword from the stone with an ear-splitting screech. “This final act has dragged on for far too long. It’s time for the curtain call.”
The flames around her sword flare brighter, and with one swift motion, she spins—launching a searing wave of fire outward.
“Ahh!” I scream as it hits me, knocking me off my feet. I crash to the ground, frantically patting at my burning clothes.
Akhos joins me in my surprise. The flames coil around him, and he howls, stumbling as they consume him.
My panic rising, I continue to pat the flames with my hands. To my horror, the flames catch on my hands and rise up my arms, their gentle heat tickling the wounds on my arms. Despite their heat, my arms don’t hurt.
“W-why aren’t they burning me?” I sputter,
Instead of searing flesh, the flames dance softly over my wounds, sending warmth through me. As they touch my cuts and burns, a radiant green light fills them, connecting damaged wounds and numbing the pain they were causing.
Flames roar across the stone amphitheater, burning bright and high despite their lack of fuel. They dance along the shattered walls and ripple through the air, and yet, they don’t consume.
Instead, they wrap around my friends, swirling like emerald ribbons where they connect with their bodies. Wherever the flames touch, their wounds glow with the same green light as Pyra’s hand.
Pyra steps toward me again, her emerald hand outstretched, shimmering in the haze of heat and fire.
“Our wounds… they look like your hand,” I whisper, staring at the strange green light binding the cuts and bruises across my arms.
She nods but gives a quiet warning. “Don’t overdo it. The flames are only holding your body together—keeping the damage from getting worse.”
I reach out and take her hand, and once again, she pulls me to my feet with ease.
“They haven’t healed you,” she adds softly. “The pain’s just been numbed.”
Still, a surge of warmth spreads through me, a pulse of energy, like a second heartbeat. My body feels lighter and stronger, as though something inside me has been reignited.
“I… I feel stronger,” I murmur, flexing my fingers, the fire dancing across my skin taking on a green hue where it adheres to my wounds.
Pyra tilts her head, offering a faint smile. “Side effect of the flames,” she says. “The bindings are stronger than your own body. If you’ve taken a lot of damage… well, to hold you together, they have to be even stronger.”
“So if I’m broken enough…” I say slowly, “…the flames will make me stronger than I was before.”
She looks at me, her eyes steady but serious. “Yes,” she says quietly. “But don’t mistake borrowed strength for healing. If you take more damage, you will die.”
Akhos continues to writhe, falling to the ground and screeching in agony.
Mythra laughs and waves her arms. The flames around her and Akhos sputter to a stop.
“Akhos!” Obrona screeches, fluttering next to him, the crimson motes of light flickering around her.
[TYPHOS]
“ You must rise, child.” The voice stirs me from the darkness, as though speaking from within my very bones.
Flames twist around me, casting wild shadows on the dull stone. Their warmth caresses my torn flesh, though the pain still lingers.“ Our sister can only delay Mythra for so long. ”
Memories of my subconscious battle against Endbringer rush into my mind, and the familiarity of the voice that continues to speak to me resonates within me,
“H-how?” I manage to whisper, my throat raw, every word scraping against the inside of my mouth. “I thought… you were holding Endbringer back.”
“ That I am. I cannot offer you strength, as all of mine is being used to suppress him. I have just enough strength to speak whenever you require guidance.”
“O-okay,” I breathe, planting my trembling hands against the scorched ground. Stone grinds beneath my fingers as I force myself upright, my arms shaking violently. Gravity weighs upon me with the weight of a mountain, but I push on. “But how am I supposed to fight her?” I rasp. “We tried. We failed . I don’t have enough strength…”
“ Your strength is greater than you believe, child. You have never truly called upon all that lies within you. ” The feminine voice coos, gentle and warm, “ In this, Endbringer spoke truth, ” she continues, her tone so soft it’s almost monotone. “ You chain yourself to the laws of this world… but you forget, those laws were made to serve you, not to bind you. Such is the truth of The End. ”
I raise my head and drag my gaze along the scorched walls of the amphitheater. “Then show me how to break them.”
Her voice laughs, warmth filling my body with every instance of sound." They will bend to your will. Just as your waters may warp the strongest of steel, so too will the laws of nature yield to your flow. "
I lift my palm from the rough stone, the cuts and burns I attained from the previous battle shimmering with iridescent emerald. “ Our sister has already realized this. Just as her fire scorches our enemies, it nurtures our allies. ”
I watch as the flames still flicker around the amphitheater, wrapping my allies in their glow, burning with harsh orange yet flickering around them with sparks of green.
She speaks with strength, her emotion now more audible. "Water may erode even the mightiest stone," she continues, her voice steady, yet showing more emotion than before, "but it also gives life to the smallest seed, carving paths where none existed."
“But… I can’t call on the Ether,” I whisper, my voice tight as the panic creeps back in, echoes of our failed struggle with Mythra pressing down on me. “Obrona is still out there, keeping it from me. She’s cutting me off.”
" Ether is a pale reflection of what you truly are. " Her words strike true, digging deeper than I had thought previously possible.
“You have never needed it.” The flames around us flicker, crackling on with continued strength.
"Reach within, Typhos," she whispers, gentle but firm. "Call upon what has always been there. What is yours, not what this world would offer you."
A slow, shuddering breath escapes me, and for the first time since I fell, I stop fighting the current of fear pulling at me.
Instead, I reach down, deeper than I ever dared. Past the pain, past the fear, past the doubt, past every single wall that Malos put up to keep his destruction at bay. Into that well of strength I had long neglected.
And something stirs.
Notes:
My dad is an author and a massive xenoblade fan, so I got some tips on how to make my writing seem more dynamic. Hopefully, this chapter is more interesting to read! Any thoughts?
Chapter 29: Stormflame Dance
Summary:
Typhos clashes with Mythra in a final confrontation, and this act concludes.
Notes:
Sorry for the long-ish wait! I'm really proud of this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[TYPHOS]
"So, you've finally reached deeper than I ever dared, Little Brother?"
The dark tide laps gently at my feet, its surface shifting, fluid, yet solid beneath me. I do not sink.
I lift my head, and there he stands.
“Malos?” My voice comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “But how? You were just awake! How are you already here?”
Malos steps forward and flicks me on the forehead.
"Enough questions, kid. We don’t have time for that."
I wince, rubbing the spot where he struck me. “Owww… Then why are you here?”
Before he can answer, another voice, lighter, yet equally commanding, speaks from my side.
"You cannot allow yourself to be carried by the tide again."
I whirl toward the sound, and there she is, the woman who saved me from Endbringer. The long, cape-like attachments on her back swirl in a phantom wind, moving with purpose yet without direction.
"You’re here too?" I take a step back, giving her space as she moves to Malos’ side.
She nods, her expression calm.
Malos crosses his arms. "Listen, kid, your power, our power, isn't like mine. Mine is absolute. Even the smallest fragment of it erases everything it touches."
He raises a hand, palm upward. A small sphere of darkness appears above it, twisting and morphing in the air like it’s alive.
"I diluted yours," he continues, watching the sphere shift. "Deliberately. So that you would never reach this point."
I frown. "Okay… So what are you trying to tell me?"
The woman, her presence steady, almost ethereal, speaks.
"Where Malos destroys matter, you alter it."
I blink. “Alter it?”
She nods. “But you cannot allow this power to be your undoing.”
I tilt my head, confused. “My undoing?”
"You may change the world, Typhos," she says, her voice carrying a weight I don’t yet understand, "but only within the bounds of what already exists. You do not write the laws, you may merely reshape their boundaries. You cannot shape laws you do not comprehend."
Malos clenches his fist, snuffing out the swirling sphere of darkness. “For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction. You don’t get something for nothing, kid. The strength you call on—it’s not borrowed from the world. It’s yours. And if you push too far, if you lose control..."
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. I already know what he’s implying.
Endbringer.
Even now, he lurks beneath the surface, waiting for his chance to reclaim me.
The woman, her voice softer now, nods. “Even I can only contain him so well. I will do what I can, but it is as much your responsibility as it is mine to keep him dormant.”
I inhale sharply, grounding myself. Then, after a moment, I nod.
"Alright. But before we move on..." I place a hand over my Core, steadying myself, feeling the pulse of something far older than me, something shared. “Who are you? What do I call you?”
The woman turns to Malos. For the first time, she smiles, warm, familiar.
"Our lost sibling stands at the beginning, our Alpha. And you two stand at the end, our Omega.”
She pauses, then looks back at me.
"And I? I stand somewhere in the middle. So, I suppose… ‘Delta’ would fit."
Delta.
I nod. “Alright. Delta it is.” Then I turn to Malos.
"And you. How much longer must we wait? You are everything we're fighting for. You are the reason we’re doing this. And—" I hesitate before asking, "Why water? How does darkness become that?"
Malos sighs heavily, pressing a hand to his temple. "Just questions with this kid," he mutters. But despite his tone, he’s smiling.
"It won’t be too long, I promise."
Delta looks up at him, still smiling.
" Just as flames beget light… "
The abyss fades, swallowing them both.
And in the final moments, before everything disappears, Malos' voice echoes through the void—deep, certain, unshaken.
" All that lies in the depths of water... is pure darkness. "
I press my palm against the heated stone of the ruins and reach deeper into my power than ever before.
My tide surges outward, entwining with the flames in a furious dance. Water ignites, roaring to life in a storm of searing light and energy.
Delta’s voice urges me forward. “ If fire can protect, then water can burn . ”
Rex turns to me, eyes wide with shock. “Typhos!?”
Strength floods my limbs as I rise. I plant my feet and thrust my hands forward, commanding the burning storm that now bathes both allies and enemies in its harsh orange glow.
A woman in red, nearly identical to Delta, stands at Rex’s side, grinning. “So you’ve finally decided to join us, Brother?”
I whirl, my arms sweeping outward, and the molten water mirrors my movement, encircling Mythra and her companions in a relentless, shifting current.
Mythra places a hand over her face, fingers spread so her gleaming eyes remain visible. Her smile stretches unnervingly wide. “Surprise after surprise with you two! It’s just... exhilarating!”
My gaze flicks to Obrona, hovering just above the burning tide.
Focusing on the water lapping at my ankles, I take a steady breath, then surrender to the flow, allowing myself to dissolve into the tide.
[REX]
Typhos’ body collapses inward, dissolving into streaks of lavender light that race along the burning water, almost faster than my eyes can follow.
The tide surges behind Akhos, behind Obrona, then Typhos reforms suddenly.
A cobalt sword pierces through Obrona’s core.
She shrieks, her body going limp before shattering into a cascade of azure light. All that remains is a dull stone, impaled on the tip of Typhos’ weapon.
Akhos wails, his voice raw and inhuman. “Obrona!”
Typhos flicks the black crystal from his sword, sending it spiraling into the Cloud Sea with the unrelenting flow of water. He pivots, striking at Akhos in a sweeping arc, but Mythra intercepts him.
A sharp parry sends Typhos backward, yet the tide catches him, dissolving his form once more. The water surges forward, an unyielding torrent crashing toward Mythra.
She meets it with an open palm, radiant light bending the flow at its touch.
With a single sweeping motion, she casts the water aside. Typhos rematerializes, landing effortlessly beside me.
“T-Typhos, how are you doing that!?” I stammer, reaching for him.
He only smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I promise.”
His expression is steady, but his eyes shimmer with an amethyst glow.
Turning back to Mythra, he straightens his stance, unwavering. “How long must we continue this farce, Mythra? You know this is not a battle you can win.”
Mythra throws her head back in laughter, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. “Oh, how cocky you’ve become, little brother! Drunk on that newfound power, are we?”
Typhos lifts his sword, its point steady. “Do you deny that I speak the truth?”
She smirks but takes a step back. “Oh, it may be true… but not for long. Take care not to fall from that high horse, foolish little brother.”
She turns to Akhos, motioning him toward the cliff’s edge. “Come, Akhos. This act is over. It’s time to… set the stage.”
“B-but, Obrona! We can’t just let them live after that!” Akhos stammers.
Mythra silences him with a brutal backhand, sending him sprawling.
“We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.”
Without another word, she steps forward, and leaps off the cliff.
Akhos hesitates, then rises unsteadily and follows, chased laggingly by the silent Phantylia.
[MYTHRA]
I board the Monoceros, Akhos trailing meekly behind me. At the zenith of the boarding ramp, a familiar figure awaits.
He stands tall, his brown hair its usual unkempt mess. Silver armor gleams under the dim lighting, two winglike capes shifting fluidly with his movements. At his hip, his long, twisted sword remains sheathed.
“Why hello, Regis.” I greet him, forcing my voice to remain level despite the frustration bubbling beneath my skin.
“Back so soon?” His deep voice carries the barest hint of amusement. “I take it things didn’t go as planned.”
“Why, your intuition is as piercing as that sword of yours, dear,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “An utter failure. All we managed was to strengthen our enemies, and we lost Obrona in the process.”
Regis remains unfazed. “You know, you could have brought me along. Things might have turned out differently.”
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “You have your mission. We have ours. Your job is to gather the Core Crystals we need. And Father forbid you got distracted by some folktale whispering of a revival tonic.”
Regis’ eyes narrow, their usual gleaming amber dulling slightly. “You would think me so flippant?”
I lean in, studying him with renewed scrutiny. A slow smirk tugs at my lips.
“My, my… how interesting.”
Notes:
Woot woot OC time
Preliminary thoughts on Regis? Might be a bit obvious what I'm alluding to.
If you want a hint, look up the Etymology for the name Regis ;)If you're having a hard time imagining my characters, I have designs for Typhos and Pyra on my twitter! And for Delta, I'm just imagining the turquoise Pyra skin in Smash Brothers lol.
I am the storm that is approachinggggg - Typhos, probably
Chapter 30: Queenly Majesty
Summary:
The group meets with Queen Raqura and determine their journey's next steps.
Notes:
Kind of a filler chapter compared to the past ones, but important nonetheless. I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Pain engulfs me, wrapping around my body like an unrelenting vice.
I lie motionless in a sterile white bed, bound by layers of bandages and wrappings that hold me in place, restricting even the slightest movement. I try to sit up, to fight against the restraints and push forward—but my body refuses. I have no strength left.
“Rex, you don’t need to force yourself through this.” A soft, familiar voice murmurs from my left. “Rest. Let your body heal from the trauma it’s endured.”
“P-Pyra?” I manage, my throat raw and aching.
A gentle hand runs through my hair, her warmth easing the tension gripping my body. “Shh… just sleep.”
“But… what about the others?” I strain to ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“They’re exhausted, injured beyond measure, but nothing that time won’t mend. You don’t need to worry about them. I’ll take care of everything.” Her voice is soft, like velvet, wrapping around my weary mind, sinking deep into my fears and soothing them.
“…Thanks.”
My consciousness wavers, fading into the comfort of her presence. I let go, surrendering to rest, soothed by the steady crackle of flames.
[PYRA]
I sit at Rex’s bedside, fighting to keep my worry at bay. It lingers at the edges of my mind, threatening to take hold. The flames continue to burn, their steady warmth casting flickering shadows across the room.
“How is the boy?” A firm, steady voice breaks the silence.
I rise and turn to face Raqura, Queen Regnant of Uraya.
“He’s exhausted, but he’s holding on. Your healers were right—he just needs time,” I reply, my gaze drifting back to the unconscious boy beside me.
“So he still burns on, does he?” she remarks, her sharp eyes flickering in the orange glow of the flames that curl around the bed. “Though these flames don’t seem to serve the same purpose as the ones that kept him alive.”
I nod. “These don’t heal his body, but his mind. This battle took just as much of a toll on him psychologically as it did physically. I’m doing my best to keep him from burning out.”
Raqura’s expression tightens. Though she tries to remain stoic, I catch the flicker of pity in her gaze.
“So young… and carrying such a heavy burden,” she murmurs, her voice edged with unexpected softness.
I bow my head slightly. “I sincerely appreciate your kindness, especially when Lady Mórag could have easily been seen as your enemy.”
Raqura shakes her head, but her eyes remain steady. “For someone so newly awakened, you already understand the weight of the world’s current state.” She pauses, then adds, “It was quite a sight, seeing the illustrious Flamebringer in such a condition. Even with the legendary Aegis and the Empire’s strongest Driver at your side, your party still ended up like this…”
I glance down at Rex, my fingers curling slightly as I recall the battle that brought us here. “It only proves the strength of our enemies. The flames held him together for as long as they could, but…” I exhale, my words trailing into silence.
Raqura’s gaze remains unwavering. “I trust you will tell us the full extent of this threat.”
I nod. “Of course. It’s the least we can do. But we should wait until everyone has recovered—I don’t believe my account alone will fully capture the gravity of our situation.”
Raqura studies me for a moment before turning toward the exit. “Very well. I will see to it that your companions make a full recovery. In return, I expect every piece of information you can offer.”
I meet her gaze. “And I have every intention of complying.”
[TYPHOS]
We stand at the base of the Great Stairway in Fonsa Myma, facing a wide, dark pool of water.
“So, Queen Raqura is waiting for us on the other side of this?” Rex asks, glancing up at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
“According to the nurses, this is where she said she’d meet us,” Nia confirms, dipping her hand into the lukewarm water. “But how are we supposed to get through?”
I inhale deeply, my hands trembling slightly at the thought of using these powers again. “Leave that to me.”
Closing my eyes, I reach inward, drawing upon the tempest of energy surging within me. I concentrate it, condensing its power into a single bead of water that hovers at my fingertips. Then, with a swift motion, I press it into the stagnant pool.
The water reacts instantly. Amethyst light swirls through it, illuminating the depths. The surface ripples, then shifts, solidifying into ice as it moves, forming a staircase that stretches deep into the pool.
Mórag watches in astonishment. “This new power of yours is truly something to behold.”
“It’s not as difficult as it looks,” I reply, studying the staircase. “All I did was shape the water into steps and alter the temperature at which it freezes, making it solidify at an unnaturally high degree.”
Vandham lets out a hearty laugh. “Ah, so the kid’s out here makin’ water freeze at room temperature and callin’ it ‘easy’ now.” He steps onto the ice first, testing its stability before leading the way. The rest of us follow.
“Ice is not cold!” Tora shouts, his voice echoing through the narrow corridor formed by the frozen passage.
“Well, yeah,” I chuckle. “I didn’t actually lower the temperature. I just changed it so the water froze anyway.”
Poppi tilts her head, analyzing the ice with mechanical curiosity. “Can Typhos apply this ability to other materials as well?”
“I haven’t tried,” I admit. “But it’s possible. The only limitation is that whatever I change has to be in contact with my water. And I cannot fundamentally alter how the world functions.”
“That’s kind of a vague boundary, isn’t it?” Rex asks, tilting his head.
“Basically, I can’t just point at a random spot and say, ‘Gravity doesn’t exist,’” I explain. “But I can alter a specific object’s density. Say, make it lighter than air so it floats.”
“Fascinating. A power with countless applications,” Mórag muses. “Though, considering Pyra can create flames that don’t burn and Mythra somehow returned from death’s door, I suppose abilities like this are simply within the realm of an Aegis.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. Without warning, I flick a tiny orb of water at Tora.
“Whoa-whoa-WOAAAHHH!” Tora yelps as his body lifts off the ground. His tiny wings flap wildly. “Tora’s wings actually fly!” He drifts through the air, bumping into the low ceiling of the corridor.
Brighid chuckles, watching the spectacle. “Oh my, I suppose the phrase ‘I’ll do that once Nopons fly’ has lost all meaning now.”
I release my hold, and Brighid gracefully catches Tora, setting him back on his feet.
Tora immediately scrambles in front of me, eyes wide with excitement. “Tyty! Do it again! Must demonstrate Nopon’s air superiority!” He flaps his wings eagerly, hopping in place as if trying to take off on his own.
“Sorry, Tora, but I don’t think Gramps would appreciate you stealing his role as the resident fluffy, flying creature,” I tease, ruffling his head.
“That is kind of my whole thing,” Gramps quips, crossing his tiny paws over his chest.
“Oh, come on, Gramps! Surely there’s room for multiple floaty, fluffy friends?” Corvin laughs, rubbing Gramps’ head.
“We can figure that out later,” Pyra interjects with a gentle smile. “But I doubt Queen Raqura will appreciate us keeping her waiting much longer.”
With that, we press forward through the icy corridor, eventually reaching another flight of stairs leading up into a softly illuminated cavern. I take the lead, Pyra at my side, guiding the group into the area above.
We emerge into a grand underground structure, its floors paved with ornate, intricate stonework. Through a narrow doorway, we step into an ethereal garden enclosed beneath a domed stone ceiling. Towering pillars of crystal sprout from the ground, glistening in the ambient light. A myriad of aquatic flowers bloom in scattered pools, their petals swaying gently in the water.
At the center of it all, seated on a surprisingly modest yet undeniably comfortable-looking sofa, is Queen Raqura.
“Well, if it isn’t Mister and Madam Aegis,” she greets with a knowing smile as she rises gracefully to her feet, offering a formal bow.
We return the gesture. “Please, there’s no need for such formality,” Pyra says as we straighten. “You’ve already done so much for us.”
Raqura nods, then glances toward the passage we emerged from. “I assume the freezing of the water was your doing?”
I nod. “It was. I can return it to its original state if you’d prefer.”
“I would appreciate that,” she replies, studying our gathered party, “though there’s no rush—after our discussion will suffice.”
“Understood.”
Her gaze lingers on each of us, taking stock of our group. “Would you mind introducing your companions? I’ve seen them, but only in passing.”
I nod and gesture toward Rex. “This is Rex, our Driver—Pyra’s, Corvin’s, and mine.”
Rex offers a small wave, standing beside Corvin, who does the same.
“This is Nia and her Blades, Crossette and Dromarch.”
Nia nods, while Dromarch bows his head respectfully. Crossette beams.
“I assume you’ve already met Mórag, Brighid, Vandham, and Roc.”
Before I can continue, Tora bounces forward. “And Tora is Tora! This is Poppi!”
Poppi gives a small, shy wave, clearly embarrassed by Tora’s enthusiastic introduction.
Raqura lets out a soft sigh, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Quite the list of introductions.” Then, her expression turns serious. “The main reason I called you here is to discuss the group you clashed with at Olethro Ruins… and to understand the true purpose of your visit to Uraya.”
“Please, Typhos, allow me.” Mórag steps forward, positioning herself between Pyra and me. “It is a pleasure to see you in good health, Queen Raqura.”
Raqura nods, her expression composed but sharp. “I must admit, it was quite the surprise to see you and your allies in such a state, Flamebringer. I sincerely hope I never have cause to witness it again.”
Mórag inclines her head. “It is not an experience I ever wish to repeat.” A pause. “As for the reason for our visit, we were sent by His Majesty, the Emperor.”
Raqura’s eyes widen slightly as she glances between Mórag and Rex. “The Aegis’s Driver… serves the Empire?”
Mórag shakes her head. “No, he does not answer to us. I travel with him out of personal obligation, and he is assisting His Majesty as a favor—nothing more.”
Raqura studies her carefully. “A personal obligation? What exactly are you implying?”
I take the opportunity to step in. “I am not actually the Aegis that awakened 500 years ago. And neither is she.” I gesture toward Pyra, who stands beside Mórag.
Raqura exhales sharply, sinking onto the sofa. She gestures for us to continue.
“The Aegises spoken of in legend,” I explain, “were… Pyra’s and my older siblings, in a sense.”
“You mean to tell me that our entire history boils down to a mere sibling squabble?” Raqura’s voice is edged with disbelief.
“It’s an oversimplification,” Pyra concedes, “but in essence… yes.”
Raqura remains silent, waiting for more.
“After the battle 500 years ago, both Aegises suffered greatly, though in different ways,” I continue. “Malos, the Endbringer, was left emotionally shattered and physically drained. He fell into a deep slumber, and in doing so… he created me to take his place. Even now, he sleeps, though he’s on the verge of awakening.”
Rex shifts uncomfortably beside me.
“It was through a series of events that Rex found me where I was sealed… and reawakened me.”
Pyra takes over. “As for Mythra, the Lifebearer, she perished in that battle. And yet, through means we still don’t fully understand, she rose again. Whether this was an ability unique to Aegises or something else entirely, we don’t know. What we do know is that, at Olethro Ruins, I was able to separate from her, to stop her rampage.”
Raqura’s expression hardens. “So that was who you were fighting. The fallen Aegis of Light.”
I nod. “Yes. Alongside one of her allies, a man called Akhos.”
Mórag steps in, arms crossed. “Malos believes he will awaken once Rex fully develops as a Driver. I oversee his training to expedite this process, so that we may stand against Mythra before her rampage escalates beyond our control.”
Raqura sighs, leaning back into her seat. “A noble pursuit, to be certain.” She pauses, then narrows her gaze toward Mórag. “Tell me, Flamebringer… would your Emperor be open to an audience? This is a threat that all of Alrest must be made aware of.”
Mórag doesn’t hesitate. “He has been hoping for an opportunity to meet you on even terms. If you were to pen a missive, I would see it delivered personally.”
“Very well. I will entrust the task to you, then.”
Rex leans toward Mórag, lowering his voice, though not nearly enough. “Hey, Mórag… aren’t we supposed to be heading to Indol soon? Should we ask if they should get involved?”
Raqura catches every word, her gaze shifting to him. “Indol? And what business do you have there?”
“We’re searching for a way up the World Tree,” I explain. “We were informed that the Praetor might know a way.”
“I suppose having an intermediary would provide the elites some measure of comfort…” Mórag muses before turning back to Raqura. “It is along our path. Should we inform Indol?”
“Eventually, yes,” Raqura replies evenly. “But I doubt you’ll reach Indol anytime soon. Surely you have matters to attend to in Mor Ardain first. And even once you set sail for Indol, this time of year you’ll have to make port in Leftheria.”
Rex immediately perks up behind me. “That means I’ll get to show you guys around Fonsett!”
Raqura’s brows lift slightly. “You hail from Addam’s Harbor?”
Rex chuckles. “Been a while since I’ve heard it called that… but yeah. I lived with my parents on the outskirts until I was about eight. After they passed, I stayed with Fonsett’s chieftess until I was old enough to strike out on my own. Wasn’t too long after that I met Typhos.”
Nia bursts out laughing. “You’re royalty !?”
“Huh? No, that’s not how it works.”
Raqura chuckles at their exchange, clearly entertained. “Fonsett’s chieftain is elected, isn’t it? Your caretaker must have been quite the woman.”
“Quite the hothead in her younger years, though!” Gramps chimes in, cackling to himself.
Raqura’s smile turns gentle. “Alright. Do not concern yourselves with informing Indol just yet, we will cross or burn that bridge when the time comes. Return to Garfont and rest. I will have the missive delivered and convene with Emperor Niall to determine our next steps.”
Notes:
Leftheria is gonna be fun :)
Chapter 31: Artifice Delta
Summary:
Typhos brainstorms a way to help Delta.
Notes:
Another shorter chapter this time, I haven't had a ton of time to write. Hell, I didn't have time to write this, I have to wake up for school in... 5 hours? Sleep schedule? Hardly know her.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“You know, after spending so long here, this place has started to feel like home,” Nia says, leaning back on the bench beside me in the Garfont restaurant.
“It does have a homely feel,” Pyra agrees, rising from her seat across from us to return her plate.
“You know, Pyra, I almost forgot you weren’t with us from the start. Feels like you’ve been around forever,” Nia muses.
“It really does,” I add, finishing the last bite on my plate. “Hard to believe it’s only been, what, a week since you woke up?”
Pyra laughs, her tattered capes fluttering in the gentle breeze. “I’m glad I fit in. Honestly, I was a little worried about that at first.” She stacks her dish with the others at the end of the table.
“So, how exactly were you able to split from Mythra, anyway?” Nia asks, casually pointing her fork in Pyra’s direction.
“You know Endbringer? That guy hiding in Typhos’ core?” I answer before Pyra can respond.
“Uh, yeah?” Nia tilts her head, her ears perking up slightly.
“Well, apparently, Mythra has one of those too.” I pause, glancing at Pyra. “In the middle of the battle, she called out to me. Said if I promised to kill Mythra, she’d help us.”
Nia’s eyes widen. “Oh?”
“After that, Endbringer stopped throwing a fit inside Typhos, and Pyra was able to split from Mythra. You saw the rest.” I shrug, as if it’s just another bizarre twist in our already chaotic journey.
“Oh yeah, that girl who helped in the battle? She’s in my head now,” Typhos says casually, strolling up behind us.
“Huh!?” I yelp, whipping my head around to face him. “How’d that happen?”
Typhos shrugs. “She’s suppressing Endbringer inside me, so I guess she had to be in my head to do it.” His head tilts slightly, like he’s listening to something. “She says, and I quote, ‘How else did you expect me to do it?’”
Nia snickers. “Well, ain’t that somethin’. Kind of a sad existence, no? Just stuck in your head all the time?”
“She says, ‘It’s not awful, but it’s not great either.’” Typhos suddenly flinches, scowling. “Hey! Who taught you sarcasm, Delta!?”
“Uh oh, the voice in his head is fighting back,” Nia teases, grinning.
Typhos pauses, deep in thought. “Huh. I wonder if there’s anything we can do about Delta not having a body.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What would you even do? It’s not like we can just make her one.”
Pyra returns to her seat, a mug of tea in hand. She shrugs slightly, a gentle smile on her face. “You could ask Tora to make something for her.”
Typhos’s eyes widen. “Actually… after Endbringer awakened in the battle 500 years ago, some data was unlocked in our core. I couldn’t make sense of it for a while, but I think it contained information on war machines of some sort.”
Pyra nods. “If I had to guess, it’s related to the Artifices. It would make sense that our cores hold the knowledge to create them.” She sets the mug down. “Though I doubt we have the resources to make anything as powerful as Siren.”
I shrug. “Hey, even if she weren’t necessarily an asset in battle, she’s doing us a massive favor. We owe her. Why don’t you run the idea by Tora? Bet he’d love the challenge.”
Typhos looks down, considering. “Delta, would that even be possible? Could you occupy another body while keeping Endbringer suppressed?”
His eyes widen. “Wait, really?”
“What’d she say?” Nia leans in, clearly intrigued.
“She said, ‘I don’t know how long it’ll last, but Endbringer isn’t putting up much of a fight. So yes, I could spend some time in a separate body as long as he stays quiet.’”
“Hey, there we go! Sounds worth a shot,” Pyra says, smiling at her tea.
Nia smirks. “What about that tea is making you so happy, Pyra?”
“I don’t know! It’s lovely.”
Nia reaches for it. “C’mon, lemme try.”
Pyra lifts the cup just out of reach. “No! Get your own!”
“Pyraaaaa,” Nia whines dramatically.
I chuckle, the weight on my shoulders feeling just a little lighter.
Typhos and Tora spend the next few days locked away in a spare tent in Garfont. More than once, I hear the sound of flowing water, like Typhos is channeling his power into something. Every time I try to peek inside, Tora shoos me away, babbling about focus and balancing the ether flow conversion.
After days of silent curiosity, the two finally call us in, their excitement palpable. We gather around a small table at the center of the tent, all eyes drawn to the mysterious shape concealed beneath a black cloth.
“So, is this what you’ve been tirelessly working on?” Mórag inquires, her sharp gaze fixed on the cloaked object.
“Tora hasn’t slept in three days!” Tora exclaims, flapping his wings wildly.
“That can’t be healthy, Tora,” Brighid chides, her concern evident.
“I wouldn’t worry, Lady Brighid,” Dromarch reassures. “I imagine he had plenty of sleepless nights working on Poppi as well.”
“C’mon, kid! Show us the thing already,” Vandham says, arms crossed over his towering frame.
Typhos takes a deep breath, then pulls the cloth away with a flourish.
On the table lies a sleek, serpentine machine of black metal. A segmented frill encircles its neck, and its head is shaped like a snake’s, its body adorned with a series of rings along its length. Resting at the center of its forehead is a dull, inactive Aegis Core.
Pyra’s eyes widen. “So you chose Ophion as your muse?”
Typhos nods. “Seemed a lot simpler than Siren or any of the gargoyles,” he says with a proud grin. “This ‘Ophion’ barely has enough firepower to light a candle; it’s built for mobility and sight, nothing more.”
I study the machine closely. Something about it tugs at my memory. “You know, Gramps, it kinda looks like Serp.”
Gramps rises from my hood, peering at the creation. “That it does, my boy.”
Typhos tilts his head. “Serp? Who’s that?”
“Oh, have I not mentioned him?” I shrug. “He’s the village guardian of Fonsett.”
Nia snickers. “What, you got an Aspar or something that’s taken a liking to Fonsett?”
“Nope. He lives in the Cloud Sea. He’s even bigger than Big Gramps,” I say, crossing my arms. “Though he’s purple, not black.”
Typhos narrows his eyes. “Wait. Is ‘Serp’ short for something?”
“Well… his real name is ‘Addam’s Serpent.’ The people of Fonsett call him that. He watched over me when I was learning to salvage, so I just started calling him Serp.”
Typhos exhales sharply, then bursts into laughter. “Addam. I should’ve known.”
Pyra, looking more confused than anyone, turns to him. “Typhos… is he saying what I think he’s saying?”
“That Addam somehow managed to turn the Artifice Ophion into a village guardian? Yeah, that’s exactly what he’s saying.”
Nia sputters. “Artifice!? You mean one of those massive war machines from the Aegis War!?” She rounds on me, flabbergasted. “You’re telling me you grew up in a village with a weapon of mass destruction and just… never thought to mention it!?”
Mórag pinches the bridge of her nose. “It explains a lot about our Rex, honestly.”
Tora, unimpressed by my childhood revelations, waves a wing impatiently. “Are we giving Delta her body now or not?”
Typhos refocuses on the machine. “I suppose so. Doesn’t feel quite as important after that revelation, but maybe Delta can shed some light on all this.”
He extends a hand toward the mechanical serpent, a stream of water flowing from his palm into the Core. For a moment, nothing happens—then, a spark of emerald light flickers to life.
The frills on its neck unfurl with a mechanical hiss as the machine hums to life. It rises into the air, hovering beside Typhos, connected to him by an Affinity Link.
A voice echoes from within.
“Hello. My name is Delta.” A brief pause. “Though I suppose you already knew that.”
Notes:
I brainstorm a lot for this series to music, on the drive to school and some such, so I could literally put together a playlist of songs I associate with these characters. It would mostly be from Epic the Musical, but is that something you guys would want? Or is that weird? idk, I'm sleep deprived.
Chapter 32: Towards the Future
Summary:
The past may give us insight into the future, but in the end, all you can walk is forward.
Notes:
I'm super proud of the emotional beats in this chapter, so I hope it's fulfilling!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
“Hey, Rex?” I peek into the doorway and spot him sitting at the room’s desk.
“H-hang on!” Rex jolts upright, slamming a journal shut. He turns toward me, eyes wide with nervous energy. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head, confused. “I was just gonna tell you the bath’s free, but…” I step inside, closing the door behind me. “Everything okay?”
His gaze flickers back to the journal, fingers gripping its edges. “…Promise you won’t make fun of me?”
I quirk a brow, pulling out a chair and plopping down beside him. “Well, I suppose that depends,” I tease lightly. “But I can’t imagine journaling would give me much to work with.”
“H-haha, well… I wouldn’t exactly call it journaling.” His voice is uneven, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears.
My smile softens. “Hey, it’s okay.” I nudge him gently with my elbow. “I won’t make fun of you, I promise. What makes you think this is something to be embarrassed about?”
Rex hesitates, staring down at the journal. “It just… feels a bit childish, is all.”
“Wanna tell me about it?” My voice drops into something gentler.
He exhales slowly, then opens the journal, revealing a half-filled page in surprisingly neat handwriting. “Whenever something big happens… or if I can’t sleep…” He runs a thumb over the ink. “I like to write letters. To my parents.”
I blink. The words on the page look like a simple retelling of our adventures so far, but now, they carry an entirely different weight.
A memory stirs; his words from Raqura’s Aquagardens: “ I lived with my parents on the outskirts until I was about eight, and after they passed… ”
“But… you said your parents are…” I trail off, hesitant.
Rex nods, voice quieter now. “They’re dead. At least, as far as I know…”
A pause. I pick up on the uncertainty in his words. “As far as you know?”
He swallows. “W-well… I know my mom is dead. That’s how I ended up in Fonsett. Auntie Corrine and Serp told me the story. Serp carried us to my Aunt’s doorstep, Mom and me. I was barely hurt, just a few scrapes, but Mom…” His voice catches. “She was already dying.”
I watch him, unsure what to say, but wanting to reach out somehow.
“She asked my Aunt to take care of me,” he continues, voice fragile. “Then she just… she was gone. Right there. She’s buried in the village cemetery.”
A lump rises in my throat. “And your dad?”
“I don’t know.” Rex shakes his head, a single tear slipping free. “We never found his body. I know it’s more likely that whatever got Mom got him too, but…” His hands clench into fists. “There’s always been a part of me that hopes.”
“That he’s still out there somewhere?” I finish for him.
He nods. “So I write. For my mom… just in case she’s watching over me.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “And for my dad. Because if there’s even the slightest chance we’ll meet again… I don’t want to forget. I want him to know everything.”
I place a hand over his, offering silent support. “How much do you remember about them?”
“Bits and pieces,” he admits. “The smell of my mom’s perfume… the sound of my dad’s laugh.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “But every year that passes, it gets harder to remember their faces. What they looked like. What they liked.”
He exhales sharply, blinking away the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. I don’t know what to say, so I just squeeze his hand in return.
For now, maybe that’s enough.
[REX]
We gather in the center of Garfont, packed and ready for the long journey ahead.
“You sure you want to come with us, Vandham?” I glance up at him, adjusting the strap of my pack.
Vandham grins and ruffles my hair with a heavy hand. “Yew and Zuo can handle things here. ‘Sides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t go runnin’ off and get yourself killed.”
Brighid chuckles. “It certainly feels like a full-time job sometimes.”
Nearby, Delta hovers beside Typhos, her emerald core pulsing brightly. “Let’s get a move on! I want to see more of the world!”
Mórag raises a brow, a smirk playing at her lips. “Considering how much of an underlying threat Endbringer presents, it’s… refreshing to see that his counterpart is so excitable.”
Delta twirls in the air, her segmented body shifting smoothly as the Affinity Link between her and Typhos flickers gold. “It matters not where we go! This body cannot feel temperature or humidity. I simply wish to experience new places.”
Mórag folds her arms. “I will have you know, Lady Delta, that Mor Ardain is not the most… hospitable climate. It’s a far cry from the vibrancy of Uraya.”
Delta spins around Typhos’s head, undeterred. “That remains to be seen! Onward, to new horizons!”
Typhos sighs, though there’s a faint smile on his face. “This is going to be a long trip…”
The journey to Fonsa Myma is long but familiar. What once might have been considered arduous now feels routine—after all, nothing seems intimidating after the battle with Mythra.
We arrive in the city without incident and head straight for the port.
“So, Mórag, did Queen Raqura’s missive reach you?” I ask, glancing over at her as she walks beside me.
She nods, patting a pocket in her black coat. “It is safely in my possession. You needn’t worry.”
Vandham, walking ahead, glances back. “This time o’ year, won’t we have to make port in Argentum before headin’ to Mor Ardain?”
Mórag shakes her head. “If we were traveling via commercial means, yes. Fortunately, I have chartered an Imperial vessel, so we can sail directly to the Empire.”
Roc caws mid-flight beside Vandham. “It is rather convenient, having access to Imperial privileges.”
Brighid nods. “We must thank His Majesty for his generosity. Such an arrangement cannot be cheap.”
“Surely,” Mórag agrees.
Nia smirks. “So, Mórag, lookin’ forward to seein’ your little brother again?”
Pyra’s eyes widen, almost glowing in surprise. “Mórag has a little brother!?”
Mórag sighs, her usual composed expression barely shifting. “Though we are not a conventional family, I have always seen His Majesty as my little brother. And yes, I look forward to ascertaining his current condition.”
Delta twirls around Mórag’s head, her mechanical body shifting as if analyzing her appearance. “Lady Mórag’s royal status certainly explains her attire and demeanor.”
Mórag lets out a soft breath, shaking her head. “I see you’ve taken an interest in social observations, Lady Delta.”
Delta hums. “It is only natural. After all, I am experiencing the world for the first time. And, originally, it was my duty to analyze the living conditions of humanity.”
“Oh, right,” I say as we step into Fonsa Myma’s bustling port. “You said the Lifebearer’s job was to nurture life, didn’t you? That’s why you split from Mythra in the first place—because she didn’t want to do that.”
“Indeed,” Delta affirms. “My role was to observe and report back to the main and secondary processors, who were meant to act on my findings.”
“Oh, so you couldn’t act on them yourself?” Corvin asks, walking alongside Vandham and Roc.
“It was never in our programming to intervene,” Delta explains. “If we did, it could create unforeseen issues. Hence the chaos that ensued when Endbringer chose to interfere.” She pauses briefly, her emerald core flickering. “My intervention led me to develop human-like emotions, much like Pyra and Mythra.” The Affinity Stream between her and Typhos shimmers momentarily before returning to its steady golden glow.
She pauses, then continues, her voice softer. “I do not believe that is a bad thing. I now understand that to nurture, one must first care.”
Nia cocks her head to the side. “You alright, Delta? You’re awfully flickery.”
Delta twirls in place, her emerald glow pulsing slightly. “I am unfamiliar with emotion. I am merely adjusting to life with it.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” I say, crossing my arms. “After living so long without it, it must be a shock to have it all at once.”
“You needn’t worry,” Delta reassures, her core stabilizing. “Like I said, emotion is a benefit for a role such as mine. Although, I doubt that Endbringer would feel the same.”
Mórag returns, though I hadn’t even noticed she was gone. “I spoke with the ship’s captain. She’s ready for departure. Shall we embark?”
I nod, casting one last glance back at Uraya, the place I’ve called home for more than a month now.
“Feeling sentimental, are we, Rex?” Typhos asks, watching me.
“A little,” I admit. “But we can only look toward the future.”
Mórag smiles. “Well said, Rex. Let’s get a move on.”
Notes:
I love them, your honor
We've finally reached the end of this 'arc'! Onwards to Mor Ardain!
Chapter 33: Hot Springs and Revelations
Summary:
The group meets with Niall, and the girls take their turn relaxing in the hot springs.
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Sister, it is a relief to see you unharmed.” Emperor Niall greets Mórag with a gentle smile before his expression turns serious. “What do you have to report regarding Torna and the Urayan conflict?”
Mórag rises, brandishing the missive from Queen Raqura. “It is not a tale to be spoken of lightly, so I will start with the most pressing matter.” She hands the letter to Niall, who promptly unfolds it.
His eyes widen as he skims through the contents. “The situation with Torna is this critical?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Mórag nods. “After witnessing the aftermath of our battle with Torna, we held a lengthy meeting with Queen Raqura of Uraya. She believes this threat is one that all Titans must face together and has requested an audience with you.”
Niall sighs, the weight of the parchment heavy in his grasp. “I am inclined to agree… though I hesitate to put Mor Ardain in a position of indebtedness to Uraya.” He shakes his head as if casting off his reservations. “But first things first. It seems you have acquired new allies.”
“We have.” I take the opportunity to step forward. “Upon arriving in Garfont Village, I received a letter from my family. Enclosed were two Core Crystals. I personally awakened Corvin,” I indicate him standing behind me, “while the second I entrusted to Nia, who subsequently awakened Crossette.”
“And the third Blade?” Niall’s gaze lands on Pyra, his brows knitting together in recognition. When his eyes settle on the unmistakable shape and glow of her Core Crystal, he flinches. “An Emerald Core Crystal? But… the only recorded Blade with such a Core was said to be blonde. The Fallen Aegis of Light herself!”
Pyra steps forward, clearing her throat. “If I may, I can offer clarity.”
Niall composes himself, motioning for her to continue.
Pyra turns toward Delta and beckons her forward. The golden Affinity Stream stretching between Typhos and Delta thins slightly as she moves away from him.
“During our battle in the Olethro Ruins, we suffered a crushing defeat due to the interference of a Blade named Obrona,” Pyra explains before shifting her gaze to Corvin. “Corvin, if you would?”
Corvin nods and flicks his fingers. A screen of light materializes, floating before Niall. The image displayed shows the battle with Torna, with Obrona at its center—her wings fully unfurled, red motes of light drifting around her like embers.
Niall’s eyes widen, though he remains silent.
Pyra continues, “Obrona possessed the ability to manipulate the flow of Ether within an area. She severed our access to ambient Ether while maintaining full control for our enemies. Even Lady Mórag was unable to hold an advantage under such conditions.”
“A terrifying ability,” Niall murmurs. “But you said ‘possessed’; past tense?”
Corvin waves his hand, changing the projection. The new image depicts Obrona’s final moments—Typhos’ sword piercing through her Core Crystal.
Typhos exhales, his expression pained. “I took no pleasure in it, but Obrona was too great a threat to be left alive.”
Niall releases a slow, measured breath before regaining his composure. “A regrettable choice, no doubt… but given the circumstances, I see no alternative. You did what had to be done.”
“In the face of these adversaries, on the brink of defeat, I took the opportunity to reach out to Rex,” Delta continues where Pyra left off.
Niall flinches. “The serpent speaks?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. I have assumed the name ‘Delta’ for the sake of clarity,” she replies, her mechanical form fluttering midair.
“You speak as if that is not your true name, Lady Delta,” Niall observes.
“The likes of an Aegis may go by many names. Each Aegis consists of three parts, each with a distinct role,” Delta explains. “These parts are known as the Virtue, the Main Personality, and the Subprocessor.” Her emerald Core shimmers, though its glow appears dulled at this distance from Typhos. “I occupy the role of Virtue—the program that observes and evaluates the actions of the Main and Secondary Personalities. Pyra here is the Subprocessor, tasked with serving as a check against the Main Personality’s decisions.”
“A complex trinity…” Niall muses, his gaze flicking between them. “Then, by that logic, the Fallen Aegis is the Main Personality?”
“Correct,” Delta affirms. “Our original purpose was to serve as the ‘Lifebearer’, to nurture life and provide it a place to flourish.”
“Mythra has abandoned that purpose,” Pyra adds. “Instead, she chooses to raze anything she deems unworthy of existence. To stop her rampage…”
Corvin waves his hand, and the projection shifts; a new scene unfolds before Niall’s eyes. The recording captures Pyra’s awakening from Corvin’s perspective, detailing her emergence and subsequent clash with Mythra.
“You… split from her,” Niall breathes, eyes wide with awe.
Pyra meets his gaze. “Though we share a Core, that is where our similarities end. We stand with Rex and the others, for the sake of this world.”
Niall is silent for a moment, then nods. “The power of an Aegis is an immense force. So long as your flames burn for the future, I’ve no reason to see them extinguished.”
Delta and Pyra nod in unison. “We appreciate your understanding.”
Niall remains silent for a moment before shifting his gaze to Typhos. “If that structure applies to every Aegis, then who fulfills those roles within you?”
Typhos exhales, his expression darkening. “I serve as the Subprocessor, while Malos fills the role of Main Personality. As for the Virtue…” He hesitates.
I step in to finish his thought. “His name is Endbringer. He only revealed himself as a true threat after we departed for Uraya.”
“A threat?” Niall echoes, his expression growing wary.
Typhos nods. “Endbringer does not share Delta’s compassion for humanity. He sees the empathy that Malos and I possess as weaknesses. Hindrances that prevent us from maintaining true balance in the world.”
Niall’s brow furrows. “Then why hasn’t he split from you, as Pyra and Delta did?”
“If I had to guess? He’s already tied himself to this body,” Typhos says grimly. “Five hundred years ago, in the final battle against Mythra, Malos was defeated. Seizing the opportunity, Endbringer awoke; and it was he who truly vanquished Mythra in Malos’ stead.”
Niall lowers his gaze, deep in thought. “You say that as if it were a bad thing.”
Typhos’s voice wavers. “Endbringer believes in absolute balance—no shades of gray, no consideration for circumstance. In exchange for Mythra’s life, he demanded another in return, as payment.”
Niall’s eyes widen. “Are you implying that…?”
Typhos nods. “Emperor Hugo volunteered to take Addam’s place, sacrificing himself so that Addam could live on. The reason Delta is connected to me instead of Pyra is because she is actively suppressing Endbringer within me—to ensure history does not repeat itself.”
“A troubling tale…” Niall murmurs, his expression heavy. But after a moment, he straightens, regaining composure. “I believe I have heard enough for now. If there are further details you wish to share, you may send word later. For now, I will have you board in the same inn as your last visit. I must act swiftly on the information you have given me.”
“Is there anything you would like us to handle while we are here?” I offer.
Niall nods. “There are two matters weighing heavily on my mind. If you could investigate them, it would ease the burden on my end.” He turns to a table beside the throne, retrieving two envelopes.
Mórag steps forward, accepting them from his hands.
“All relevant information is contained within these,” Niall continues. “Rest tonight, and if you have no pressing matters tomorrow, I would be grateful if you looked into these incidents.” He sighs, weariness evident in his small frame.
“Of course. We’ll do what we can,” I assure him.
[NIA]
“Ahh, Rex wasn’t kidding when he said these hot springs were amazing…” I sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth, letting my weary body finally relax.
“Did you not indulge on our last visit, Nia?” Mórag asks, reclining comfortably across from me.
“Nope. I completely forgot it was even an option. Trust me, I regretted it immensely.”
“She almost forgot again, too!” Crossette giggles, using her flames to make the hot springs bubble.
“Crossette!” I laugh, splashing a little water in her direction.
“Mind if I join you?” Pyra’s voice carries from the entrance, her scorched red hair resting against her neck.
“Of course! I bet you’ve never experienced anything close to this great,” I say, grinning.
She steps out, wrapped in a towel, the emerald glow of her hands and feet shimmering under the dim moonlight. Sliding into the water, she exhales softly, letting the warmth envelop her.
I tilt my head, watching her. “It’s a shame, you know. You’ve got such pretty hair… I wonder if it could grow back past where it’s burnt?”
Pyra lifts a damp strand, examining the charred ends. “I don’t know, to be honest. Since I manifested like this, I doubt it. We’d probably have to repair my Core first.”
Crossette shrugs, “I think it’s pretty. If a little fire bothers anyone, they shouldn’t be around us.” Her horns spark, causing Pyra to laugh lightly.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not particularly. Maybe if we ever get Endbringer and the boys to get along, we could convince them to fix it.”
“An interesting thought,” Mórag muses, her gaze now fixed on where Pyra’s hand shimmers beneath the water. “Could that truly work?”
“It’s possible,” Pyra says, swirling the water absently. “If I had to guess, that’s Mythra’s goal—to take Typhos and use the data in his Core Crystal to repair her own.” Her eyes darken slightly. “It’s probably the only thing keeping her from heading to Elysium herself.”
Mórag’s gaze shifts to me, a small smirk forming on her lips. “Now, tell us, Nia… is something happening between you and Rex?”
Pyra giggles. “I never took you as one to be susceptible to gossip, Lady Mórag.”
My cheeks flush. “People are gossiping about us?”
Crossette drones, “Ohh, only a certain blondie seeing you sneak into Rex’s room the night before we left.”
My face burns red hot. “Oh—Corvin! It wasn’t like that, I promise…”
Pyra cocks her head to the side, a small smirk forming on her lips. “Oh? Then what was it about?”
“I—well… He told me about his parents.” I shift under their gazes, rubbing my arm. “When I opened his door to tell him the bath was open, he was writing in a journal. Apparently, he does that to feel closer to them… and for the possibility that his dad is still alive out there. He got really emotional about it, so I stayed with him for a bit…”
“Aww, that’s adorable!” Crossette coos.
Mórag, however, takes an entirely different message from my words. “His father could still be alive?”
I wave my hands in the air. “It’s unlikely! They know for a fact that his mom is gone, but they never found his dad’s body. Rex believes he’s probably dead, but… there’s always that part of you that hopes, you know?”
“Poor Rex…” Pyra murmurs. “Losing his parents so young, then being shoved into a mission to save the world before he’s even had a chance to live his own life…”
I exhale, then suddenly rise from the water, stretching. “I should get out—I’ve been in here long enough.”
“Aww, Nia, we didn’t mean to—” Pyra starts, but her words stop cold. Her eyes widen as they settle on me.
Shit.
Mórag’s gaze follows, her expression unreadable. “Nia, are you…?”
My hands fly up, covering the Core in my chest, but I already know it’s too late.
“Y-yeah…” My ears flatten against my head, and the urge to run claws at my gut.
Pyra’s voice is soft, careful. “Does he know?” To my surprise, there’s no judgment in her expression. No disdain. Just understanding.
“N-no… Typhos figured it out, but…” I can’t meet their eyes.
“Do you want us to keep this quiet?” Mórag asks, her tone gentle.
I swallow hard. “I’d appreciate it, yeah.”
“You could tell him, you know,” Crossette says, tilting her head.
“I will,” I murmur. “Eventually. Just… not yet.”
Notes:
I love them, your honor. Pt 772
Don't think I'm gonna do Rex x Pyra this time around. I don't trust my ability to write a poly relationship accurately, so I just won't. Plus, Mythra seems quite a bit more "Mature" this time around, so making Rex and Pyra a thing in this seems kinda creepy? idk, if this is an unpopular choice, I can redivert, but I'd prefer to just keep it to RexNia
Chapter 34: Winds of Imperialism
Summary:
The Empire must stand ready against any kind of foe, even those from the inside.
Notes:
Not a super long chapter, but it helps set up the future arcs. Hopefully you enjoy! (And hopefully I'll have more time to write, soon :') }
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REGIS]
The wind does not like to be constrained. When wielded correctly, even steel must bow to its whims.
Gunfire rattles through the narrow corridors, but the howling winds swirling around me threaten to drown out even that.
“I-I won’t let you through!” the soldier stammers, his greataxe trembling in his unsteady grip. He’s young. Too young to be standing in my way like this.
“A shame,” I murmur, my voice hollow, devoid of anything that might once have been emotion. “To see someone so young thrown into a battle they cannot win. The Empire should be ashamed.”
“The Empire saved my life!” he snaps, fear flashing in his eyes, but his voice burns with conviction. “I won’t let you disgrace her name any further!” He steadies his stance, lifting his axe despite the tremor in his hands. “Y-you’ve taken enough lives today!”
Behind him, his Blade stands silent, channeling power.
If only you weren’t a Driver.
For a fleeting moment, something aches in my chest. He almost reminds me of Him, if only He still drew breath.
The blade in my right hand hums as wind spirals through its twisted edge. Then, with the storm at my back, I surge forward.
The boy only seems smaller the closer I get.
“I promise you won’t suffer,” I whisper, a silent prayer to the wind. “Please, forgive me.”
[REX]
“Anti-Imperialists?” I ask, leaning over the Emperor’s missive.
“Yes. Their voices have grown more pressing since the conflict with Uraya began,” Mórag confirms, sitting across from me in the inn's common area. “It seems their threats escalated while we were away.”
“So, that’s what His Majesty wants us to deal with?” Nia asks from where she leans against the wall, arms crossed.
Mórag nods. “Yes, along with one other report.” She opens the second missive, scanning through it until her eyes suddenly widen. “Tora, this may interest you, actually.”
“Really-truly?” Tora hops up onto the bench beside her. “What does letter say?”
“It mentions reports of an artificial Blade seen around Alba Cavanich. Apparently, His Majesty initially suspected it could have been Poppi.”
“Not possible. Poppi present with friends in Uraya entire time,” Poppi states, tilting her head in confusion.
Mórag offers a reassuring smile. “Worry not, Poppi. We know.”
“Two tasks, both urgent…” Typhos murmurs. “If we want to handle this efficiently, splitting up would be the best course of action.”
“Meh! Tora wants to investigate Artificial Blade!” Tora flaps his wings excitedly.
“Even if you didn’t want to, we’d likely assign you anyway,” Brighid notes, rubbing Tora gently on the head. “You’re the foremost expert on the matter.”
Tora puffs out his chest, swelling with pride.
“And it makes sense to have Mórag handle the Anti-Imperialists,” Pyra adds, glancing over the missive herself.
Mórag nods, considering. “If I were to divide the teams, I’d have Rex, Vandham, and me take on the Anti-Imperialists, while Tora and Nia investigate the Artificial Blade.” She hesitates, brow furrowing. “That said, I don’t like the idea of sending only two Drivers on a task that could escalate.”
“Delta and I can accompany them,” Typhos offers. “I can hold my own without Rex.”
Mórag turns to me. “Are you okay with that, Rex?”
I shrug. “I need more experience fighting alongside Corvin and Pyra anyway. If Typhos is good with it, I’ve got no complaints.”
She nods. “Very well. Any objections?”
Her gaze sweeps the room, but no one speaks.
“Alright,” she concludes. “Rex, Vandham, and I will meet with the soldier investigating the Anti-Imperialists. Nia, I trust you can keep the others on track?”
Nia grins. “Leave it to me.”
“It feels weird to split up like this,” I murmur as we step out of the inn. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
“You don’t need to worry, Rex.” Pyra chuckles, her voice light. “Typhos and Nia can handle themselves.”
“Aye, don’t forget the furrypon!” Vandham laughs, crossing his arms. “Kid’s a natural. Almost surprised he didn’t become a Driver on his own; sure acts like one.”
“A truly mysterious thing, Driverhood,” Mórag muses. “Those you expect to have potential don’t, and those you wouldn’t expect do.”
I absently rub the amethyst Core shining in my chest. “I wonder… if I hadn’t met Typhos, would I have ever had the potential to be a Driver?”
Corvin suddenly throws an arm around my shoulders, nearly knocking me off balance. “Not worth thinking about, man! We’ve made it this far, no point in dwelling on ‘what-ifs.’”
“Haha, I guess you’re right.”
Brighid’s voice cuts in, softer, more thoughtful. “There’s something I’ve been wondering since we fought Mythra… If she could awaken another Blade, could Typhos?”
“Even if he could, I doubt he would want to,” Mórag replies. “The only reason Mythra did was because her Core was damaged.”
“It’s unnatural, one Blade awakening another,” Roc rumbles, their voice firm. “Lady Mórag, who is this soldier we’re supposed to meet?”
“A good question.” Mórag retrieves the missive from her coat pocket, skimming through it once more. “His name is Jac. His Blade should be easy to spot; blue-haired, feminine, gold accessories.” She pauses, then reads aloud, “‘You’ll know her when you see her.’”
“Huh, that sounds like a Blade I’ve seen before…” I say, thinking back on my experiences. “Nia, Dromarch, Typhos, and I watched a young guy awaken a Blade during Driver recruitment in Torigoth. I remember the Blade he awakened being rather striking.”
“If it were a Torigothian Driver Recruitment, he would have been transferred to Alba Cavanich for training, so the Blade we are searching for and the Blade you saw awakened may be the same.” Mórag concurs.
We spend a while walking around the Capital, searching for this soldier and preparing for the mission ahead. Corvin and I never had the opportunity to browse the Core Chips like I promised in Uraya, so I take the opportunity to outfit Pyra and him.
Before long, our browsing is interrupted by a striking voice. “Lady Special Inquisitor, pray, may I ask for your assistance?”
We turn to face the Blade I saw awakened in Torigoth. She is unmistakable, her long, twin ponytails shimmer with an ethereal blue glow, flowing behind her. Gold adornments accent her armored attire, forming sharp designs around her arms and legs. Her piercing eyes lock onto Mórag as she extends her hand in deference. Behind her stands a man in black armor, a massive, ornate lance hanging on his back.
“And what is it that you need assistance with?” Mórag replies, her tone undeterred by her sudden appearance.
Perun steps forward, her azure hair catching the evening light. “My name is Perun, and this is my Driver, Jac.” Her voice is strong, yet the deference in her tone toward Mórag is unmistakable. “His Majesty informed us that you would be lending your aid in the investigation of the Anti-Imperialists.”
Mórag regards her coolly, arms folded. “Indeed, we are. We were making our final preparations before seeking you out in earnest.” Her gaze sharpens, as if testing the Blade. “But if you knew this mission was decreed by His Majesty, why the need to request my assistance? Should it not have been a given?”
Perun places a hand over her chest, inclining her head slightly. “I understand you are a woman of many responsibilities. I could not assume you had the time to spare at this exact moment.”
Mórag’s lips twitch in the faintest smirk. “A careful one, are you?”
“Prudence is a virtue in matters such as these, is it not?” Perun replies, her tone unwavering.
“Indeed it is.” Mórag nods, shifting her attention to Jac. “What is the current state of the investigation? Have there been any pressing developments?”
Jac tenses, hesitating before inhaling sharply. “Yes… actually.” He swallows before continuing, voice graver than before. “There’s been a murder.”
Notes:
No, the Regis murder is not the murder Jac is talking about. This is just gonna end up being the side quest from the main game, with some Perun shenanigans :)
Thoughts on Regis? Any guesses as to where his story is going? I'm excited to develop him more.
Chapter 35: Winds of Drought
Summary:
Rex and the others investigate the Anti-Imperialists beside Jac and Perun
Notes:
Finally, a chapter of actually reasonable length. I hope it's fulfilling!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[MYTHRA]
“Lady Mythra… is this truly necessary?” Regis asks from across the table, flanked by Akhos and Patroka.
“Why’re you complaining, Regis?” Patroka drawls, propping her chin in her hand. “If she wants to feed us, who are we to stop her?”
Akhos eyes the lavish spread, skepticism clear on his face. “Though, I sincerely doubt you were the one who prepared this.”
I shrug. “That would be correct. Jin wanted to try some new recipes. I just figured it might be nice to have a… family dinner, for once.”
Regis exhales, already pushing back his chair. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, if I don’t leave for my next assignment soon, it won’t be completed on schedule.”
“About that.” I rest my elbows on the table. “I’ve decided to reassign you—all three of you.”
That gets his attention. He hesitates, then settles back into his seat. “Very well. Explain.”
“You wanted something different from the Core Crystal collection, right? Consider this your opportunity.”
Patroka barely pauses between bites. “Alright, I’m listening. What’s the job?”
“You’ll be overseeing the development of Artificial Blades in Mor Ardain,” I say simply. “We’ll drop you at Bulge Harbor, and you’ll proceed from there.”
Regis exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “Very well. If that is your will.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “But to what end? What’s the real purpose of this mission?”
Patroka scoffs. “You sure treat Mythra a lot differently than the rest of us. All the ‘Lady Mythra’ and ‘If it is your will’.” She mocks, “What’s with that?”
I don’t answer her immediately, keeping my focus on Regis. “Yet another collaboration with the Nopon in Argentum. If this goes as planned, you might never have to go on another Core Crystal-fetching mission again.”
Regis watches me closely.
“And as for why he treats me differently…” I finally say, leaning back.
“I’m the only one who can give him what he wants most in this world.”
[REX]
“Here we are…” Jac says, leading us toward the hot springs where the girls had relaxed the previous night.
As he steps aside, the grim reality of the scene unfolds before us. A middle-aged woman lies motionless on the paved stone, her body limp and lifeless.
A hotel attendant stands nearby, her voice trembling as she speaks to another soldier. “I-It wasn’t me, I swear! When I came out to clean, she was just… there, floating in the water!” Tears well up in her eyes as she wipes her face with shaking hands. “I pulled her out as fast as I could, but she was already…” Her words falter, breaking into sobs.
Mórag approaches the corpse in silence, her expression as composed and unreadable as ever. Kneeling, she carefully brushes aside a damp strand of hair from the woman’s face.
“Do you recognize her, Lady Mórag?” Pyra asks, crouching beside her, analyzing the scene with quiet intensity.
Mórag rises, adjusting the brim of her hat. “Indeed, I do. Her name was Saundra Arascain. She was… a senator.”
Corvin stiffens. “A senator? Surely she should have had guardsmen, or at least attendants, right?”
Mórag shifts her gaze to Roc. “Roc, take an aerial survey. Are there any suspicious persons or objects in the area?”
Roc immediately launches into the air, circling above us before landing lightly at Mórag’s side. “Nothing out of place. Whoever did this was… thorough.”
Mórag is quiet for a moment before responding. “As for the lack of guards… if I recall correctly, Senator Arascain had little regard for personal security. She insisted on being left unattended during her visits to the springs.”
“So our assassin knew that,” Vandham says, crossing his arms. “They chose their moment carefully.”
“Indeed,” Brighid murmurs, her gaze softening as she looks at the woman’s still form. “Did she not have a young son? Informing her family will not be easy…”
Mórag exhales slowly, her voice measured. “I will handle that myself. It is my duty.”
I step forward. “We’ll be there for support. Just lead the way.”
“We’re heading for Hardhaigh Palace. Her husband should be working there,” Mórag states, her resolve unwavering.
“Hey, Rex…” Corvin turns to me, hesitating. “Would you mind handling the notification? I’d rather stay behind, just in case the killer returns.”
“You needn’t worry, Corvin.” Perun steps forward, placing a reassuring hand over her chest. “I will ensure no harm comes to anyone here. Go. Your Driver needs your support.”
Corvin lingers for a moment, then nods. “Alright. I’ll leave their safety in your hands.”
Mórag leads us toward Hardhaigh Palace, her expression unreadable, her pace steady.
“I’ve never dealt with a murder before,” I admit, my voice uneasy.
“It’s not a pleasant experience,” Corvin mutters. “Let’s just hope we won’t have to again.”
As we step into the grand, sprawling corridor of Hardhaigh Palace, the crowd naturally parts in Mórag’s presence, granting us an unobstructed path. She strides forward with quiet authority, guiding us to the same elevator she had used to take us to the Emperor’s chambers during our previous visits. But this time, instead of using a key, she simply presses one of the existing buttons, and the elevator ascends to a lower floor than the Emperor’s chambers.
We step out onto an open-air boardwalk. The sun, once bright, is now obscured by the thick haze billowing from the nearby factories.
Mórag approaches a middle-aged, slightly portly man standing near the railing. As he turns to greet us, his expression shifts to one of startled recognition.
“S-Special Inquisitor Mórag! To what do I owe the pleasure…?” he stammers.
Mórag meets his gaze, her voice firm yet tempered with care. “I regret to inform you that Senator Saundra Arascain was found murdered this morning.”
The man chokes on his breath, his voice breaking as he stares at Mórag in disbelief. “M-my wife!? Y-you have to be joking…” His hands tremble at his sides, desperation bleeding into his expression. “But… you don’t joke…”
Mórag’s eyes lower, shadowed with gravity. She shakes her head solemnly. “Not about matters such as this, I’m afraid.”
The man’s composure crumbles. “Saundra… My Saunie…” he breathes, collapsing into quiet sobs.
Mórag steps forward and offers a handkerchief, her tone steady. “Did your wife have any known enemies?”
He takes the cloth with a shaking hand, dabbing at his eyes. “She was the fairest, most honorable person I’ve ever known. Not just among politicians, among anyone.” His voice cracks. “No, I can’t imagine anyone hating her enough to do this…”
He pauses, brows furrowing. “Though… if I were forced to guess… perhaps the Anti-Imperialists.”
Mórag remains composed, though her gaze sharpens. “Please elaborate.”
He hesitates, glancing over his shoulder before speaking. “I don’t mean to cast blame without proof, especially to someone of your station, Lady Mórag… but there are factions, small, vocal, who despise the current regime. Some resort to violence rather than discourse. Saundra… she was planning to introduce legislation that would give the military broader authority to suppress any brewing rebellion. She believed it would protect innocent lives before the unrest could erupt.”
“A bold and politically divisive move,” Mórag murmurs, brow furrowed. “One that could certainly inspire retaliation…”
She straightens. “Please take the proper steps to request bereavement leave, and allow yourself time to grieve. We will see this matter resolved.”
The man wipes his eyes again, trying to compose himself. “Thank you… Lady Mórag. It brings me some peace to know someone like you is handling this.” His voice catches, throat tightening as his grief resurfaces. “Architect… what am I going to tell our son?”
Mórag leads us back to the inn in silence, her pace brisk but burdened. There’s a tension in her movements, her usual poise tinged with something heavier.
“Is something bothering you, Mórag?” I ask, breaking the quiet. “Are you worried?”
She exhales slowly, adjusting the brim of her hat. “Merely thinking about the situation… and contemplating who might come next, logically.”
“Are you worried about the Emperor?” Pyra asks gently, her gaze searching.
“Of course I am. It’s my duty to be concerned for the Emperor’s safety,” Mórag replies flatly, as if the question were rhetorical.
Pyra’s tone sharpens. “You know that’s not what I meant, Mórag. Not as the Special Inquisitor worrying about the Emperor, but as Mórag, worrying about Niall. Are you genuinely afraid for him?”
Mórag falters, just for a moment. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned…”
“Then we’d better make every second here count,” Corvin says, taking the lead as he opens the door to the inn. Without another word, he bounds up the stairs toward the hot springs, already focused on picking up where we left off.
We exchange glances, then follow after him, hearts heavy but determined.
By the time we catch up, Corvin is already deep in conversation with Perun.
“We’ve located a trail of footprints along the mountain above,” she says, her voice clipped and focused. “If you’re willing, I can guide you there.”
“Please, lead the way,” Corvin replies with a nod.
Without another word, Perun pivots and sprints through the inn, exiting the building. She runs toward a locked door near the inn’s entrance, Jac following close behind. She produces a key and jams it into the lock with practiced precision. With a mechanical hiss, the door slides open, and she vanishes through it.
We hurry after her, climbing ladder after ladder until we reach a long, narrow pathway carved into the cliffside. Perun charges forward, only to come to a halt when Roc spreads their wings wide.
“Leave this to me!” Roc declares, feathers glowing with green ether. A gust of wind surges beneath our feet.
“Hold on to your feathers!” Roc cackles—and before we can react, we’re airborne, lifted by the current and hurled upward two stories onto the mountain above.
I hit the ground with a groan, winded. “Please… never do that again without warning…”
Corvin bursts into laughter. “Come on, that was amazing! I wanna do it again!”
Pyra stifles a laugh behind her hand. “I don’t think Rex would survive a second time.”
Mórag kneels, brushing her gloved fingers across the soil. “Yes… footprints, just as reported. But…” Her eyes drift toward the sheer cliffside looming behind us.
Roc steps up beside her, scanning the prints with a sharp eye. “They don’t head farther up the mountain. They're heading back. Same way we came.”
I squint, trying to make sense of what they’re seeing. “I can’t even see the prints you’re talking about. Think you can lead us?”
Roc cackles. “Who do you take me for, an amateur?” With a dramatic flair, their wings snap open, ether trailing from their feathers.
Oh no.
“Shi—”
Before I can finish, the wind howls beneath us and launches the entire group off the cliffside.
We hit the ground safely in Alba Cavanich, though I’m not sure how “safe” I feel. My legs give out beneath me, and the world spins like I just got off a ride designed by maniacs.
Corvin leans over, waving a hand in front of my face. “Oop. I think he’s dead.”
Brighid chuckles, flicking a strand of flame-kissed hair over her shoulder. “Ah, the Driver of not one but two Aegises, felled by a bit of wind. Truly, how the mighty have fallen.”
I grumble, still trying to remember which way is up, but we press on regardless.
Roc and Perun take point as we make our way across the bridge leading into the industrial sprawl of Alba Cavanich, then down into the arid stretch of desert that forms the Titan’s shoulders. The terrain shifts from sun-bleached sand to steel and rust, with jagged, aging buildings lining the path like forgotten sentinels. Towering monsters stalk the outskirts, their eyes tracking us as we pass, but none dare approach.
Eventually, we reach an elevator embedded into a wall of ancient metal. Perun calls it with a simple press, and we manage barely to squeeze our entire group into the confined lift. It rattles and hums as it carries us downward.
When the doors open again, we step into a vast, cylindrical pit, the bottom of which glows with a strange green fluid. Roc doesn’t pause, leading us across a narrow metal walkway and up a ladder into a huge, corroded pipe. Shadows dance along the walls as we move, the only sound the soft clink of our footsteps and the distant scuttling of unseen beasts.
We wind through the pipe in silence, sidestepping monsters that lurk just beyond the path, until finally we reach a small, open-air platform at the far end. Just as we’re about to step out, Perun stretches her arms across the exit, stopping us in our tracks. Her expression is fierce, eyes locked forward as she raises a finger to her lips.
“Shh.”
We listen.
A gruff male voice filters in from just beyond the exit. “Here’s your reward.”
Another voice, nervous, older, responds, “Thanks, but why’d you want milady’s routine anyway?”
There’s a beat of silence, then the first voice replies, smug and cold, “That’s not your concern. She’s already snuffed it.”
The older man stammers, panic rising in his voice. “W-what? You never said anything about killing her!”
“Shut it, old man,” the thug snaps. “You’re already in over your neck.”
Before another word can be exchanged, Perun charges forward with a righteous fury. Her megalance crackles into her grasp, the tip gleaming with energy. “Your villainy ends here, you fiends!” she roars.
We rush in behind her.
The two figures, now clearly soldiers in Ardainian-like armor, recoil in surprise. The older man behind them scrambles back in fear.
“Who the hell are you?! Get out of here!” one of the armored men barks.
“I think not,” Mórag declares coldly, stepping forward and unsheathing her twin blades with a sharp, metallic hiss.
“Special Inquisitor!?” the larger of the two blurts in terror, eyes wide as he fumbles for the rifle slung across his back.
He fires a wild, desperate volley.
But fire answers fire.
A pillar of azure flame erupts between us, dancing and twisting across the platform. The heat ripples through the air, distorting Mórag’s form as she glides through the onslaught with practiced grace, each bullet missing her by a hair.
“Azure Form, the Second: Judgement !” she intones, her voice low and searing.
In a blur of motion, her swords extend into blazing whips, each one humming with cerulean fire. With a crack of power, she lashes them forward, the fiery chains winding around the attacker’s legs before he can react. She pulls hard, he hits the ground with a heavy thud.
I can’t help but chuckle, watching the spectacle. “Looks like someone took a page from me and Vandham’s book, huh?”
Mórag casts a sideways glance and smirks. “The technique is effective, though mine carries a touch more finesse.”
Vandham crosses his arms with a grin. “Did we even need to be here? Special Inquisitor’s makin’ us look like amateurs.”
Mórag binds the two unconscious soldiers with expert efficiency, her movements swift and precise. Once secure, she turns her sharp gaze on the older man still standing.
“Care to explain yourself?” she asks, her tone sharp but not without restraint.
The man panics, holding up his hands defensively. “Please, I didn’t know anything about this! They only asked about milady’s routine—I didn’t think anything of it, I swear!” His words come in a rush, barely coherent.
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, his eyes widen. “Wait!”
He crouches and rummages through the pockets of one of the unconscious men until he pulls out a small key. “Here,” he says, offering it to Mórag. “They’re holed up in a warehouse in the capital—the old one beneath Nharil Central Plaza, you know the one?”
Mórag accepts the key, her expression tight. “Yes. I’m familiar with that warehouse.” She tucks it away, her focus already shifting.
Perun steps forward and grabs both unconscious soldiers with ease. “I’ll take these insurgents into custody. Jac, will you remain with the group and offer any assistance necessary?”
Jac nods dutifully. “Of course. Though… what do we do with him?” he asks, gesturing toward the older man.
The man straightens awkwardly, clearly nervous. “I’ll follow the Blade,” he says quickly. “I imagine there’ll be questions.”
Mórag gives a curt nod. “Very well. We’ll take care of the rest of their group.”
Without another word, she turns and takes the lead once more. We follow her into the heart of Alba Cavanich, the sun now casting long shadows across the bustling streets. As we reach the center of Nharil Central Plaza, Mórag veers suddenly, striding toward the edge of the plaza.
There, almost hidden in plain sight, a narrow stairwell leads down along the outer ledge of the city. We descend flight after flight, the noise of the city growing faint behind us, replaced by the echoes of our steps.
At the bottom, carved directly into the stone base of the city, stands a warehouse, silent, unassuming, and cloaked in darkness.
Mórag steps forward, unlocking the door with the key. The lock clicks open, and the heavy door creaks as it swings inward.
Inside, the warehouse is dimly lit by flickering lamps mounted along the walls. Among the shadows, three men stand gathered around a table, and behind them looms a beastlike Blade, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
The man on the left recoils in surprise. “Who’re you!? How’d you get in here!?”
The man on the right silences him with a dismissive wave. “Enough. They’ve brought Blades. Must be Imperial scum.”
The man in the center steps forward, calm and composed as he draws a pair of gleaming twin rings. Behind him, the beastlike Blade rises, the air thickening with Ether as it channels power into its Driver.
“Then let’s take care of them, shall we?” the man says, his voice low and confident.
Before anyone else can move, Pyra strides forward, her shattered sword materializing in her grip in a shimmer of flame. She turns slightly, calling over her shoulder, “Brighid, Roc, this is as good an opportunity as any, don’t you think?”
Without waiting for a reply, Pyra drops to one knee and slams her sword into the cold metal floor, embedding it deep. The blade pulses, a flare of heat erupting from its core.
Brighid smiles, stepping to Pyra’s side as a glowing orb of azure flame coalesces in her palm. “Yes. Let’s.”
She releases the orb. It hits the floor with a resonant thud, just as Roc takes to the air above us. His wings unfurl wide, scattering motes of green light that twist into a howling vortex.
The moment the fire meets Roc’s wind, the entire warehouse transforms.
Crimson flames and cerulean embers swirl violently in tandem, forming a blazing tempest that consumes the space in a dazzling cyclone. The heat warps the air, and the light of the inferno flickers against every surface, bathing the room in a chaotic dance of color and fury.
In perfect unison, the three Blades raise their voices:
“
Aegis Unity: Winds of Drought!
”
The storm erupts into full force—controlled, devastating, inescapable.
To me, the heat feels like a warm summer breeze, almost comforting. But for the insurgents, it’s another story entirely. Their clothing catches instantly, tongues of flame licking upward with terrifying speed. Panic grips them as they flail, trying to smother the inferno that leaps between their bodies like a living thing.
The fire leaves behind searing trails, branding them with arcs of flame—scars that won’t fade anytime soon. Smoke curls in the air, thick and choking, curling into every breath they try to take.
It doesn’t take long before the one in the center, his face twisted in pain, stumbles forward, coughing violently. His voice cracks through the smoke.
“W-we surrender…” he rasps, collapsing to his knees.
Pyra stands, taken aback slightly. “A-aha, maybe we went a bit overboard…”
Notes:
Whaddya think? I've always thought it was lame that they didn't do more unity specials in XC2. The Pyra X Nia one was so cool, so I tried to draw a bit off of that. Don't worry, Rex will get to fight more soon, I just felt like the Blades got a bit neglected in the last arc :)
Chapter 36: Artificial Maids?
Summary:
Rex's group finishes their mission, and Nia's group begins their's
Notes:
I'm actually really happy with this chapter, here's Lila's introduction!
EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT DELTA
I rewrote a bit to include her...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Perhaps it wasn’t best to try that in such a… closed environment,” I mutter, coughing slightly. “Hey, Pyra, could you use your flames to keep the wounds from getting worse? At least until we can get them some proper treatment.”
The last remnants of the typhoon fade—nothing left but flickering cinders and the metallic tang of scorched steel. Pyra gives a small nod, stepping forward with calm precision. With a flick of her wrist, three orbs of flame float from her hand and spiral toward the fallen men. They land gently, sinking into the burns and glowing with a warm, emerald hue. Their bodies stop convulsing, breath slowly returning to normal.
“I will never get used to seeing those flames in action,” Brighid murmurs, her voice soft as she kneels to inspect the stabilized wounds.
Jac, though, reacts differently. He steps closer, lifting his helmet off and letting his tangled brown hair spill loose. His catlike ears twitch, catching something the rest of us missed.
He stares hard at the driver in the center, now unconscious but breathing, and slowly sinks to one knee.
“…T-this is my Da…” he says, barely above a whisper.
Mórag’s expression shifts in a heartbeat. “Your father?” she repeats, brows tightening.
Jac nods faintly. “My Ma died a few years back. After that… he wasn’t the same. Just kind of unraveled.” His voice cracks, and he clenches his jaw. “He left us not long after. Told me and my brothers to blame the Empire for everything. That it was all their fault, but look at me now… It’s the Empire that’s been feeding my family since.”
He shakes his head, torn between bitterness and disbelief. “I never thought I’d see him again. Not like this.”
“I suppose we should take these people in, and report to His Majesty.” I glance toward Mórag, searching her expression.
She gives a firm nod, calm but resolved. “While I sincerely doubt this is the entirety of the Anti-Imperialist faction His Majesty has been concerned with, capturing these key members will no doubt deliver a significant blow to their operations.”
I take a breath, letting my shoulders sag for a moment. “I just hope Nia and the others are okay…”
The warehouse is quiet now, smoke still curling lazily along the ceiling, the faint scent of ash lingering in the air. For a moment, no one speaks. Brighid begins helping Pyra tend to the prisoners more thoroughly, and Corvin moves to help Jac, who’s still crouched by his father, torn by emotion.
The sun has set, the moon now soundly taking it’s place in the sky, though it’s light offers no comfort.
Mórag places a hand lightly on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure of it. Once these insurgents are turned in, we regroup.”
[NIA] { When Rex and Co. are searching for Jac}
“You know, you really don’t have to come with us, Gramps,” Typhos says, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
His hair’s down for once, no braid, no fuss, just flowing freely like he’s finally learned how to breathe again. There’s something easier about him now. Lighter. Happier.
Gramps gives an exaggerated puff of his chest. “Well, someone has to keep you kids on track.”
I tug the hood of my jumpsuit free from where it’s usually crumpled uselessly behind me. “Here, Gramps,” I say, patting the shallow dip it leaves behind when it’s not worn. Just the right size for a small Titan to curl up in. “You can hang out here if you want.”
He eyes the spot, then eyes me, then lets out a low rumble of approval as he nestles in. “Fine, but don’t get cocky just because you’ve got your fancy powers. You’re not invincible, you know.”
Typhos laughs. “That’s the spirit. We’ll try not to get in too much trouble.”
“Don’t try,” Gramps mutters, already settling into a doze. “Succeed.”
Delta whirs, "Worry not, Gramps. I will keep the children in check."
Tora leans in, squinting suspiciously at the curled-up Titan. “Tora doesn’t know how Gramps sleeps so easily in Rex-Rex’s hood. And now Nia’s hood? Is Gramps that sleepy?”
Dromarch hums thoughtfully. “I suppose it comes with age. There comes a time when rest finds you easily, no matter the location.”
“Where should we start looking for these Artificial Blades?” Crossette asks, glancing around the plaza as if one might just stroll by.
I turn to Poppi, hopeful. “I don’t suppose you could sense them, eh, Poppi?”
Poppi shakes her head with gusto, her hat almost falling off. “Not from so far away. If friends got close to one, Poppi could track Ether Furnace's signature!”
“According to the Emperor’s missive,” I begin, adjusting my hood slightly so Gramps doesn’t tip off, “all sightings of the Blade have been at night. Perhaps we should prepare for the job and begin searching in earnest when the sun sets.”
“I suppose so…” Typhos folds his arms, thoughtful. “Though if we’re just going to sit around until nightfall, maybe we should’ve gone to help Rex with the Anti-Imperialists instead.”
I shake my head. “Nah. Rex can handle himself, and besides, this Blade business feels just as important. If it’s been lurking in the shadows, there’s no telling what it’s really after.”
“Poppi agrees!” she chimes. “Artificial Blades should not be roaming freely. Dangerous if left alone too long.”
"I do not understand." Delta says, her mechanical head cocking to the side. "Poppi poses no threat to us. Is she an exception? Are 'Artificial Blades' dangerous beings?"
"Artificial Blades are machines that obey the order of their masters. Of course, our friend Poppi has been given autonomous action, and she's more humanlike than most." I say, gesturing at Poppi, "Say, a machine with her strength, yet ordered to do something deplorable..."
Delta hesitates a moment before responding, "A killing machine of no equal is born."
"Hence our concern." Typhos says, "But, we probably won't be able to do anything until night falls."
Tora bounces in place. “Then Tora suggests snack break! And then… nighttime stakeout!”
Dromarch lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose that’s the most efficient course of action…”
We wander the capital of the Empire for a while, checking shops, picking up some Core Chips, and asking around at every stall and café. Still, no one has even heard of an Artificial Blade, much less seen one.
“Jeez,” I sigh, letting my arms drop at my sides, “I know we haven’t exactly been combing every alleyway, but it’s kind of disheartening that we haven’t come across anything at all…”
“Hopefully, once night falls, something will turn up,” Typhos replies, trying to keep things optimistic. “There’s no point in stressing over what we can’t control. All we can do is our best.”
We nod in agreement and, with nothing else turning up, decide to settle down at a small restaurant. The meal is simple but warm, and the break is welcome after a day of walking.
After finishing, we head back to the inn, the orange hues of sunset already melting into dusk. We take turns bathing, catching a bit of rest in the quiet, candlelit rooms. Eventually, we regroup in the inn’s modest lobby, the lanterns swaying gently with the night breeze that sneaks through the open windows.
The mood is calm but charged with anticipation. The city is beginning to sleep, but for us, the night is only beginning.
“Alright, I suppose it’s time to get searching,” I say, stretching my arms out with a soft groan. “The report says the Blade has been seen around the roofto—”
My words are swallowed by a sudden, deafening boom. The ground shudders beneath our feet, windows rattle in their frames, and a thick plume of smoke rises into the night sky.
“W-what was that!?” Typhos shouts, spinning around. His eyes immediately lock onto Crossette. “Crossette, I swear—if you left one of your bombs in your pillow again—”
Crossette throws her hands up, eyes wide. “Nope! Wasn’t me! All my bombs are safely on my person!” She pats the chain of orbs on her waist for emphasis, causing them to clang together.
Dromarch’s ears twitch, and he looks up at me, his silver fur standing on end. “My lady… perhaps this is where we should begin our investigation.”
I nod sharply, already moving. “Let’s go! It came from above—start with the roof!”
Without another word, we rush toward the stairs. The steel steps clang under our boots as we ascend, tension mounting with every floor. The moment we burst onto the open-air rooftop of the inn, the wind whips at us, carrying smoke, embers, and the unmistakable scent of burning metal.
The rooftops are crawling with Ardainian soldiers, all on high alert in the aftermath of the explosion.
I rush up to one—a smaller man gripping his rifle like it might leap from his hands. “Hey, we’re allies of the Special Inquisitor, here on orders from the Emperor,” I say quickly, hoping to ease his nerves. “Did you see what caused the blast?”
He shakes his head, the motion rattling his helmet. “N-no, but if you’re with Lady Mórag, could you check it out?”
I sigh. “That’s the plan.”
We sprint onward, our footsteps echoing across the steel rooftops. The plume of smoke in the distance becomes our beacon as we dash along narrow boardwalks and metal bridges strung between the buildings of the capital.
“I must say, we owe Mórag some thanks for her nation’s extremely walkable architecture,” Typhos quips as he matches my pace.
More soldiers fall in behind us, forming a small unit of Ardainian military trailing in our wake as we close in on the smoke’s source.
When we arrive, the scene is unmistakable; a large, smoldering crater carved into the rooftop of a reinforced metal building.
That’s when Tora shouts, pointing a wing skyward. “Lila!!”
I follow his gaze just in time to spot a figure perched delicately on a power line overhead. Dressed in a long, solid gown, she appears more doll than warrior. Yet when the soldiers behind us raise their rifles and open fire, the bullets shriek against her dress, ricocheting with an unnatural metallic screech.
The air fills with the sharp cracks of gunfire and the screeching ting of bullets ricocheting off metal.
“No! Stop!” I shout, throwing my hands up and moving in front of the soldiers. “She’s not attacking, we don’t know what she’s doing!”
The hail of bullets slows, some soldiers lowering their weapons in hesitation as they glance between me and the strange figure on the power line.
“Lila!!” Tora cries again, his voice trembling. “That Lila! But, Tora not know why she's up there!”
I squint up at the figure. She’s elegant, almost doll-like in design. Her dress moves unnaturally, regimented, deflecting bullets like armor, and glowing lines of Ether pulse faintly along her limbs. Her posture is… calm. Unthreatening. But the crater on the rooftop below suggests a different story.
“She’s definitely an Artificial Blade,” Typhos mutters beside me, eyes traveling between Poppi and the unknown figure. “But she’s not engaging. That explosion, was it her arrival, or… an attack?”
Lila doesn’t move. Her head tilts slightly, as if studying us. Then, with a soft hiss of hydraulics, she turns and begins to walk, no, glide, across the wire toward another rooftop.
“She’s getting away!” one of the soldiers barks, raising his weapon again.
“Hold your fire!” I command. “We’re going after her. Let’s find out what she’s doing before we turn this into a war.”
Typhos nods. “Agreed. No more surprises if we can help it.”
Tora is already dashing forward, wings flapping in the wind. “Wait for Tora! Lila!! Why you run?!”
We chase after her across the rooftops, sprinting over narrow rails and suspended bridges. Our footsteps pound against the metal, echoing through the buildings below, no doubt waking every poor soul trying to sleep.
The figure darts from rooftop to rooftop, effortlessly gliding along power lines and leaping across gaps with the help of hidden boosters in her dress. Everything about her, her movement, her silhouette, reminds me of Poppi.
“I can see why His Majesty thought Poppi was behind this,” I say between breaths. “The resemblance is uncanny.”
Delta, flying beside Typhos, replies, "Their composition appears to be similar, as well."
She vanishes around a corner, and we follow, clambering down a fire escape that deposits us onto the main road of the capital. We come to a stop in a wide roundabout, catching our breath.
“She really did look like Poppi…” Typhos murmurs, then glances at Tora. “You acted like you knew her. What was that about?”
“It was…” Tora starts, his breath ragged. “Lila.”
“Lila?” Gramps asks, now wide awake from all the chaos.
Tora nods, his wings drooping at his sides. “The Artificial Blade Dadapon and Grampypon were working on… I’d recognize her anywhere.”
A monotone voice echoes from above. “Ether Furnace reading detected.”
We snap our heads toward the sound. There, on an adjacent rooftop, stands the figure from before: Lila.
“Initiating protocol,” she says flatly.
She leaps down from the rooftop, landing with a deafening crack that splinters the stone beneath her feet.
She’s dressed in a long, metallic maid uniform. Her brown hair, cut bluntly just below the chin, frames a sharp, expressionless face. Atop her head sits a classic maid’s cap, completing the uncanny image.
“You know,” Typhos says, summoning his sword with a flick of his wrist, “I’m starting to believe the claim that Tora’s Grampypon was the one who added the maid protocol to Poppi.”
“Tyty! Please don’t break Lila!” Tora cries, his eyes already brimming with tears.
Typhos offers him a gentle smile, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “Alright, I promise.”
His gaze returns to the Blade in front of him, his gaze sharpening. “You know, apparently you’re pretty important to my friend.” He calls, his voice deep and commanding. “I’d really prefer not to fight you.”
Lila’s mechanical voice echoes in response, “Opinion disregarded. Initiating combat protocol.”
Notes:
Any thoughts or requests? I'm having a lot of fun writing this encounter.
Chapter 37: Abandoned Factory
Summary:
Typhos and his group chase down leads on the Artificial Blades.
Notes:
Here's an actually decently-long chapter! We'll probably finish the in-game events of chapter 4 next chapter, so I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[TYPHOS]
"I can’t say I’ve ever fought a mechanical enemy before..." I mutter, tightening my grip on my sword.
Lila stands before us, her hands now hidden in two long, blaster-like devices that stretch to the length of her arms.
“It’s not exactly common,” Nia replies, drawing her twin rings. Her gaze sharpens, and beside her, Dromarch growls low, Ether surging as their bond flares to life.
Without warning, Lila charges, boosters igniting beneath her feet, launching her forward like a missile.
"Alright, if I’m not going to break her, then maybe I can—" I twist, summoning water to my blade’s edge and hurling it toward her in a crashing wave.
“Electricity can’t transfe-” I think, commanding the force of water to bend reality to my will.
The moment the water connects, pain explodes through my body. A jolt of raw data slams into my mind. Everything the water struck is responding, all at once. I can't breathe. Can't think.
My knees hit the pavement. The sword slips from my hands and clatters against the stone.
“Ugh… ow…”
“Typhos!?” Nia’s voice cuts through the static. She lunges at Lila, intercepting her strike, Ether-charged rings clashing against metal with a shriek of sparks.
Clutching my head, I force myself to focus. “An Artificial Blade… It’s not a single system. It’s hundreds, running in perfect sync. I tried to command her components, but that means giving instructions to every individual part.”
“Can’t you?” Nia shouts, spinning through another elegant arc as she fends Lila off.
“Nope,” I grunt, staggering back to my feet. “Too much input. It’s like trying to reprogram an entire operating system, in real time, during combat.”
Delta swirls behind me, her lights brightening. “If you were to target a single, crucial component, you could disable her.”
“Yeah, but that would require actually knowing how she was made…” I reply,
I extend my hand. Amethyst light shimmers and reforms my sword, solid and familiar in my grasp.
“Looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”
Nia retreats from the clash, falling into step beside me. “At least now we know—your powers have a limit. You can’t micromanage a machine like that.”
I wince. “Maybe this job wasn’t meant for me after all…”
She shakes her head. “Hey, we can do this. Sometimes, the simple will work better than rewriting reality.”
I glance to the side. Tora stands frozen, shield in hand, eyes locked on Lila with a pained expression.
“Tora,” I call, steady but firm. “I know this hurts. But she’s the reason we’re here. If we stop her now, we might finally understand what’s going on.”
He hesitates... then takes a deep breath. His grip tightens.
“Alright, Tyty.” He raises the shield. “Let’s save Lila.”
We charge in unison, weapons raised.
Just like before my battle with Mythra, Ether condenses along the edge of my sword, extending its reach in a shimmering arc.
Nia swaps her rings for her Bitball, and in a flash of light, Crossette replaces Dromarch at her side.
“Crossette, now!” Nia shouts, hurling the weapon toward her Blade.
Crossette catches it with effortless precision, halting mid-run. She twirls the bladed ball on her fingertip, flames gathering at its core as Fire-elemental Ether surges through it. Then, with a powerful spin, she launches it at Lila.
The Bitball crashes against the mechanical shell, sparks exploding as Fire Ether dances across Lila’s armored frame, the spinning blades slicing dangerously close to breaching her plating.
“Go! Great Star!” Crossette calls, igniting the field with fiery brilliance.
Seizing the opening, I dart forward, striking Lila with a flurry of Arts, precise, relentless blows. Tora holds the line, shield raised, keeping her attention fixed on him.
I circle around her, weaving through the momentum of battle. With each strike, small orbs of Water-elemental Ether materialize in the air, orbiting the battlefield like droplets frozen in time.
Then I leap back, raising my sword. I focus, willing the Ether to obey.
With a sharp thrust, the orbs converge on Lila.
“Steam Bomb: Drowned Oblivion !”
The orbs explode into a cascading surge of scalding steam and crashing water, engulfing the Blade in a vortex of elemental force.
Lila crashes backward, landing in a crouch. Sparks erupt from her joints, and her frame groans under the strain.
“C-chance of success decreasing. Initiating strategic retreat mode.”
Her back-mounted boosters flare to life, lifting her into the air. In a flash, she rockets over a nearby gate, cutting off our path.
“Lila! Wait!” Tora cries out, wings fluttering wildly as he tries to follow.
“Ether furnace reading not yet lost!” Poppi shouts, darting ahead into the city.
We race after her through the winding streets until we reach Midorl Bridge—the main path into the capital. Poppi suddenly skids to a halt.
“Ether furnace reading lost… it seem she has escaped…” Her shoulders sag in defeat.
I step up beside her and gently pat her back. “It’s okay. Now that we know she’s similar in design to you, we have more ways to track her down.”
“Typhos! Nia! Tora!”
A familiar voice calls out from behind. We turn to see Rex’s group approaching, though Pyra’s not among them.
“Rex!” I wave and jog over to meet him. “How’d your mission go?”
Rex scratches the back of his head, chuckling sheepishly. “A little too well, honestly. I didn’t even get to do much—Mórag and the others handled most of it.”
Before anyone can respond, Mórag steps forward, all business. “And your mission? Has it proceeded according to plan?”
Nia lets out a breath. “Hardly. We had a run-in with the Artificial Blade—but she escaped.”
“Lila was mean and attacked us!” Tora whines, wings drooping. “I don’t know why she was acting that way!”
Mórag’s eyes widen slightly. “Lila? You know this Blade?”
Tora’s shoulders slump. “Lila was the Artificial Blade Dadapon and Grampypon built. I thought she was destroyed… a long time ago.”
Rex glances at Tora, concern clouding his expression. “Mórag… do you think we could help them out? At least for the rest of their mission?”
Mórag shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. Our work is far from over. We’ve only dismantled one wing of the Anti-Imperialist operation. There are still loose ends that must be addressed.”
Vandham steps up beside them, clapping a hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Ey, Mórag. Surely I could go with the other team, yeah? Judgin’ by how smooth things went, I reckon you and the kid can handle the rest just fine.”
Mórag pauses, considering Vandham’s suggestion. “There is logic in that, I suppose,” she admits at last. Her gaze shifts upward to meet Vandham’s. “Especially since this assignment appears to be more complicated than we initially thought. Rex and I can manage from here.”
Rex turns to Vandham, a small but earnest smile on his face. “Take care of them for me, yeah?”
Nia raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? So now we suddenly can’t take care of ourselves?”
Corvin chuckles from behind her. “He hasn’t shut up about, ‘Ooooh, I hope Nia and the others are okaaaaay’ the entire time.”
“Aww, such a worrywart,” Crossette coos, giving Rex a playful grin.
Rex’s face flushes a deep red. “W-well, of course I’d be worried!”
Delta hums, “Elevated heart rate detected. Is this… consistent with worry?”
“Worried. Uh-huh. That’s definitely all it is,” Brighid adds, dryly amused.
“Alright, any more teasin’ and the kid might implode,” Vandham adds, ruffling Rex’s hair. “We’d better get some sleep, and we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.”
We rise with the sun the next morning, the city still quiet beneath a pale gold sky. After a quick regroup, we split off once more. Rex, Corvin, Pyra, Mórag, and Brighid head out to continue their investigation into the Anti-Imperialist factions, while the rest of us shift focus to tracking down the Artificial Blade.
As we step out into the cool morning air, Nia stretches, arms behind her head. “So, you mentioned other ways we might be able to track Lila?”
“Well,” I begin, glancing over at Poppi. “Considering that Lila and Poppi seem to be of similar make and model… it stands to reason they’d be built using the same base materials, right?”
“Ah,” Gramps says from his perch atop Nia’s shoulder, peering thoughtfully at me. “So you’re thinking to check with the local merchants and transports, to see if any of those materials have been purchased recently, and in large quantities.”
I nod. “Exactly. If someone’s constructing or maintaining her, or father-forbid mass-producing her, they’ll need rare alloys, specialized components… and those kinds of purchases don’t go unnoticed.”
“Tora,” I turn to him. “Would you mind leading the way? You’d know better than any of us what parts are essential.”
Tora puffs up proudly, raising a wing. “Meh-meh! Leave it to Tora!” He starts marching confidently forward—then stops mid-step, blinking. “...Tora not know where to go.”
I blink. “Seriously?”
“If we were trying to find where those materials are being transported in high quantities…” Vandham mutters, stroking his chin, “Then the port's our best bet. Might be some chatter among the ship crews—especially if any suspicious shipments came in recently.”
With that, we make our way to Port Anangham, the only civilian-accessible harbor in Mor Ardain. The scent of salt and oil fills the air, and the shouts of dockworkers echo over the creaking of hulls and the rumble of machinery.
Tora takes the lead, weaving through the crowd with surprising agility, his eyes scanning each vessel and crate for signs of relevant cargo. Before long, we run into a Nopon, busy unloading barrels from a medium-sized freight ship.
Tora perks up immediately. “Friend Periperi!”
The merchant turns, his feathers fluffing with surprise and delight. “Tora! What you doing in Mor Ardain? Thought you live in Gormott, meh?”
“Very important investigation!” Tora declares with a dramatic flair. “Friend must tell—has Periperi transported large quantities of Bion Connectors from Gormott recently?”
Periperi nods enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! Actually did! Usually keep Bion Connectors in yellow barrels, and delivered a lot of yellow barrels just this morning.”
Tora’s ears twitch. “Does Periperi know what barrels were for?”
“Sadly, no-no,” Periperi replies with a shrug. “Only deliver. Not ask questions. But if recipient hasn’t picked up shipment yet, last delivery was dropped off by elevator into city. Can still check there!”
I exchange a glance with Nia and nod. “This sounds promising. Let’s see how far we can take this.”
We rush to the elevator, inspecting the platform from which it ascends.
“You know, when we came through here to head to the port this morning, weren’t there yellow barrels here?” Nia says, her gaze sweeping the area.
“According to Poppi’s memory, yes,” Poppi chimes in, also scanning the surroundings. “Barrels are no longer present.”
Tora perks up, his eyes alight with a thought. “Tora not give up yet! If Tora remembers right, there’s a junk shop in Alba Cavanich. Friends should check there, meh!”
Tora takes the lead, guiding us through the area with surprising precision for a non-native. He eventually stops in front of a small shop, run by a young Ardainian boy, his clothes stained with grease and oil.
“Friend! Have you sold any of these items in large quantities?” Tora launches into an extensive list, which I immediately lose track of.
The boy tilts his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time remembering...” He pauses, his grin widening. “Maybe if you bought something, it’d jog my memory.”
Nia lets out an exasperated sigh and hands him a small bag of gold. The boy snatches it greedily, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, wow, I just remembered!” he says, feigning surprise. “This old guy mentioned having a regular customer who liked Black Ash. He seemed pretty proud of it, said he’d be rolling in cash for a while. His name’s Timell. You can find him by the Turbine Tower, across Midorl Bridge.”
We thank the boy for his, albeit deceptive, help and rush through town, scrambling over Midorl Bridge and into the desert that borders the capital city. Not far outside the city, we spot the turbine tower the boy mentioned.
In the shadow of the tower stands a middle-aged man. Before he even notices us, Tora pounces, launching into a barrage of questions. “We want to know about Black Ash!”
The man jumps in surprise, but quickly recovers his composure. “Black Ash, huh? Let me guess, Issel’s been running his mouth.”
Poppi nods. “Affirmative.”
The man rolls his eyes. “Ugh, that brat.” He shifts his attention back to us, his expression hardening. “I’ll have you know, I’m not doing anything illegal. What do you wanna know?”
“Have you been selling large quantities of Black Ash to anyone?” I ask.
His eyes widen slightly. “I wouldn’t call it a large amount—just a few barrels at a time.”
Tora looks up at me. “Tyty! If used as shielding agent for Ether furnace, not need too much.”
“Right. So, where are you delivering these barrels?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Next to some old factory in the industrial district. Never seen the guy, but he pays well, so I don’t ask questions.” He pauses, then adds, “I just made my last delivery. If you’re quick, you might still catch him. The barrels are bright green, so you can’t miss 'em.”
The man marks the factory on our map, and we make our way there without hesitation.
We’re initially blocked by a massive gate that keeps us from entering the wastes, but after telling the guards we’re on a mission for His Majesty, they open it without much resistance.
The wastes are teeming with enormous monsters, each one capable of wiping us out in an instant, but we manage to avoid them by sticking to the rocky, mountainous terrain. Once we’ve skirted past the monsters, we come into an open area free of their presence. To our left, a cliff drops steeply into the Cloud Sea below, and on our right, a massive sheer cliff face towers above us.
“Jeez, the way that Taos looked at us, I thought we were done for...” I say, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Tell me about it,” Nia replies. “Makes me almost glad we didn’t have the whole group with us.”
“In a rugged terrain like this,” Delta murmurs, gazing across the barren expanse, “it stands to reason that only the strong survive. A true dichotomy from the lands of Uraya.”
Before I can respond, a deep, resonant laugh rolls through the air. Two familiar figures step out from behind a pile of rubble.
We approach cautiously, the sight of them clicking into place.
“We meet again, Aegis,” declares the Bringer of Chaos, his Blade trailing behind with a dramatic air.
Nia exhales sharply. “Oh, great. It’s Shellhead.”
Zeke steps forward, clearly pleased. “Yes! Wait…” His brow furrows as Nia’s words register. “Hey—‘Shellhead’?!”
Dromarch sighs. “As always, your timing is impeccable, Lady Nia.”
Zeke stomps, flailing his arms with grand flair. “You will address me as Zeke! Von! Genbu! Bringer of Chaos!”
Then he pauses, scanning the group. His expression falters. “Wait… Where’s the kid? And what happened to the Flamebringer?”
Vandham lets out a hearty laugh. “Off doin’ sidequests somewhere. Sorry, kid—you’re stuck with the B-team.”
Roc flares their wings and lets out an amused caw. “Heh. I like this kid’s energy. Can we keep him?”
Zeke recoils. “Kid?! I’ll have you know I’m twenty-three!”
Vandham smirks. “So... a kid.”
“You will show proper respect to the ZEKENATOR!” Zeke bellows.
Nia snorts. “The hell’s a Zekenator?”
Zeke grins. “You may have gotten lucky last time ‘cause of ol’ Mórag’s interference—but she’s not here now!”
“Yeah, and?” I step forward. “I’m not going with you.”
“You can’t run, Aegis!” he shouts—though his tone sounds more dramatic than dangerous.
“Who said anything about running?” Nia retorts with a smirk. “By the way, if you’re royalty, what’s with the bargain-bin eyepatch? Don’t royals have access to healers?”
“Heheh… I’m glad you asked.” Zeke taps the patch with flair. “This conceals a power far beyond mortal comprehension… the almighty—” he pauses dramatically, “Eye of Shining Justice!”
“Yeah, okay, buddy.” Nia rolls her eyes.
Delta tilts her head. “No hidden power detected behind the eyepatch.”
Nia sighs. “Look, we really don’t have time for this. You know how this ends: we fight, you lose, you flail dramatically and leave. Unless… you want to help us track down Artificial Blades for some reason?”
Zeke unslings his sword, spinning it with absurd strength. “What, are you afraid of my power, Fuzzy Ears?”
Suppressing a laugh, I step forward. “Alright, Zeke. If you can hit me after stopping this attack, I’ll go with you.”
He snorts. “Alright, gimme your worst, Aegis!”
I summon a small orb of water, whispering a silent command into it. The orb floats lazily toward him.
Zeke grins, striding up confidently. “Is this all the mighty Aegis can muster?!”
He swings the flat of his blade into the orb, and immediately, the gravity surrounding it spikes tenfold. The blade slams into the ground with a deafening CRASH, embedded like a sword in stone.
Zeke blinks, struggling to lift it. “Ah, a-ha… I’ll get you, Aegis! Just—just as soon as I get my sword out…”
Pandoria places a palm to her face with a sigh. “My prince… why do you always end up humiliated around this group?”
We stroll past Zeke without breaking stride. As I pass, I give his shoulder a reassuring pat.
“I’m sure you’ll get me next time. Just gotta believe in yourself.”
Not long after, we arrive at a large, rusted-out building. In front of the massive entrance sits a collection of barrels, alternating green and yellow in color.
“Well, looks like we’ve found our barrels,” I say, eyeing the arrangement carefully.
“That probably means this is where they’re mass-producing the Blades,” Nia says, peering up at the sprawling steel door. “No way that thing’s opening—too rusted. But…”
She points up toward a shattered window high above the door, framed by a catwalk.
“If we can find a way up there, we might be able to slip in through the window.”
Circling around the building, we find an old ladder on the left side—weathered and streaked with rust, but still intact.
We climb up one by one and carefully slip through the broken window, managing to avoid the jagged glass.
We climb into a massive, dimly lit room lined with moldy wooden crates. The air is thick and stale, stirred only by the hum of a large industrial fan at the far end, blowing musty air through the cavernous space.
“Well, this is a bit disappointing,” I mutter, my voice echoing off the walls.
Poppi steps forward, pointing at the fan. “There appears to be something behind it. If we destroy the fan, we may be able to proceed further.”
I approach the fan, summoning my sword with a flicker of light. “Alright, let’s make some room.”
With a single, fluid slash, I cut through the steel supports holding the fan in place. It groans as it gives way, crashing to the ground with a metallic thud.
Revealed behind it is a narrow corridor, sloping upward into darkness.
I crouch and slip into the tunnel, the others following behind. At the top of the incline, a second opening leads out into a vast, open expanse of another building.
We stand on a narrow catwalk suspended above the factory floor, one of many branching pathways that snake through the vast, echoing expanse of the facility. The roar of machinery is near-deafening, a relentless barrage that threatens to drown out even my own thoughts.
Harsh yellow lights flicker overhead, casting long shadows across a sea of conveyor belts and automated systems. Below us, countless humanoid forms are ferried along the lines—rows upon rows of Artificial Blades in various stages of construction.
“Artificial Blades…” I murmur, eyes scanning the floor below. I lose track trying to count them—there are too many.
We move forward, the clang of our footsteps against the metal grating louder than we’d like, though we try to tread lightly. The catwalk twists and turns, weaving us deeper into the heart of the factory, until we reach another wall—this one fitted with a second fan.
Nia exhales sharply. “Typhos?”
“On it.”
I summon my blade once more and cut through the fan’s supports with practiced ease. The metal groans before tumbling free, clearing our path.
We crawl into another ventilation tunnel, but unlike before, the way forward isn’t at the end of the passage—it’s beneath us. A hole in the floor opens into a room below, and from within, voices echo up through the vent.
“Professor Tatazo. Speak, speak! Give orders!” says a nasally voice, tinged with irritation.
“Reduce load on neural circuits by twenty percent…” replies a higher-pitched, unmistakably Nopon voice. “Should improve production efficiency.”
“See? It not that hard,” the first voice says smugly, clearly pleased with the professor’s cooperation.
Tora crawls up beside me, and we peek into the room beneath us.
“Are those…” I whisper, blinking in disbelief, “Tirkin?”
Sure enough, two Tirkin stand on either side of an older Nopon, who watches over the ongoing Blade production with a focused gaze. Once the Tirkin confirm everything is proceeding smoothly, they chatter among themselves and waddle out of the room.
Tora’s eyes widen the moment he sees the Nopon.
Without a word, he leaps down from the vent, and the rest of us follow right behind him.
The Nopon looks up in shock as we land. “Could it be…? Tora, that you?”
Tora’s voice trembles. “Are you really Dadapon Tatazo?”
In a flash, the two rush into each other’s arms, Tora breaking into tears. “Dadapon! Tora missed you so much!”
Tatazo cries too, holding Tora tightly. “Me too!”
I can’t help but smile. “Aww…”
Tatazo eventually looks up at the rest of us, still sniffling. “Who are all these people?”
Tora spins around, flapping his wings excitedly. “These Tora’s friends! Not even all of them—Rex-Rex, Mórag, and others on different mission!”
“Tora has lots of friends!” Tatazo says proudly, his wings fluttering.
“As touching as this is…” Dromarch interjects gently, “Perhaps we should consider an escape?”
“Right,” I nod, turning toward the door, ready to guide the group out.
But before I can take a single step, a nasally voice rings out, halting us in place.
“Halt! You not go anywhere!”
We all glance up to see a tiny blue Nopon standing on a raised platform, wearing comically round, swirly glasses that seem far too big for his face.
Tatazo’s expression hardens behind me. “Muimui…”
Tora gasps, his eyes lighting up. “Muimui!!”
Delta tilts her head, her lights flickering with curiosity. “Am I supposed to know who Muimui is?”
“Dadapon’s assistant,” Tora explains quickly. “He used to help build Lila!”
“Meh-meh-meh…” Muimui giggles greedily, rubbing his wings together. “I finally have chance to seize precious Artificial Blade… and use to further my own goals!”
He thrusts one wing forward with a dramatic flair. “Guards! Seize them!”
Notes:
I'm so excited to write the next chapter-
Endbringer through the wringerrr
Show her I'm the judgement call, the one who makes the Aegis fall~Epic x Xenoblade brainrot is going to kill me
Chapter 38: The Tale that is Written
Summary:
Typhos and Co. Collide with Bana
Notes:
I didn't get as far as I was hoping in this chapter, but I am still super proud of it. I really hope you enjoy, I think it came out really good.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[TYPHOS]
“Tirkin? That’s your ‘elite’ guard?” I ask, barely holding back a laugh as my sword shimmers into existence in my grip.
“Crah! Don’t underestimate Tirkin!” the feathered creature screeches, thrusting a crude spear toward me with shaky confidence.
They charge, foolishly.
Before they can even close the gap, I surge forward. In one swift motion, my blade arcs through the air, cleanly severing their heads.
The Tirkin vanish in a plume of dust, not even a feather left behind.
“Poor creatures,” I murmur, lowering my sword. “I tried to make it painless.”
I level my blade at Muimui, its tip crackling with energy that hums dangerously in the air. “Is that really all you can muster?”
Muimui stumbles back, wings trembling. “M-Meh?! How Blade so strong…?”
Nia steps forward, arms crossed and gaze sharp. “Alright, that’s enough. We want answers, now. What exactly are you planning here?”
“O-O-ordinary business!” Muimui sputters, laughing nervously. “We just innocently mass produce Ether Furnaces and Artificial Blades… and sell to people who want them! Nothing shady at all!”
Tatazo’s expression darkens, his voice trembling with anger. “Lies. They threatened Tatazo—forced me to help with mass production!”
“And you were after Poppi too?” Gramps growls. “What a greedy bunch.”
Delta hovers closer to Muimui, her lights glowing bright as a stream of sparks bursts from her core. “Your actions are truly deplorable. I was led to believe Nopon were helpful creatures.”
“Of course I want Artificial Blade!” Muimui shrieks. “She uses lost Ether Furnace of Professor Soosoo! Priceless technology!”
The lights in Delta’s eyes dim, as if she’s trying to narrow them, then bites down on Muimui’s wing with a crackle of static.
“Excuses.”
“Owowow!” Muimui screeches, flailing as Delta chomps his wing. “Why flying snake bite Muimui?!”
Tatazo swells with pride, beaming at Delta. “That your creation, Tora? Very innovative!”
“Get 'em, Delta!” Crossette cheers, laughing.
“Meh, meh, meh! What with all this useless blathering, Muimui?!” a new voice booms from the doorway behind him.
Emerging with dramatic flair is a massive Nopon, wrapped in gaudy, expensive garments that shimmer under the factory lighting, followed silently by Lila.
Nia's eyes widen, and she takes an instinctive step back. “Bana!?”
Bana’s gaze locks onto Delta, narrowing in suspicion. “A small, flying snake creature?” he muses. “And it bites?”
Delta detaches with a mechanical hiss, slithering back to my side. “A… profoundly shaped Nopon, that one,” she remarks, flickering with mild disgust.
“You never finish job properly, do you?” Bana sneers at Muimui, towering over him. “You lure them all the way here… and still fail to capture them?”
“Muimui is very sorry, Master Bana!” he grovels, trembling.
Bana smiles slyly, a wicked purr in his voice. “But Bana is generous Nopon. You bring not only Artificial Blade to me… but the Aegis too.”
I roll my eyes, hoisting my sword, energy crackling at its edge. “What are you going to do, bore me to death?”
I step forward, sword gleaming. “I’m tired of this farce. Let’s end it.”
Nia throws a hand in front of me, halting my step. “Who would you even sell the Aegis to? Torna? Don’t tell me you plan to Drive him yourself.”
I snort. “As if I’d ever let that happen.”
Bana hesitates, eyes narrowing. “How you know about Torna?” A beat passes, then his expression twists in recognition. “Wait... I know you! You one of Torna’s Drivers! If you’re here for Ether Furnaces, they already loaded on ship outside!”
Nia exhales, frustration creeping into her voice. “So you’re selling those to Torna too?”
Bana draws in a sharp breath, then waves his stubby arms. “Bana not fully understand complicated politics, so will just beat you up! Lila, get them!”
From the platform above, Lila drops down with a metallic thud, leveling her blasters with precision.
“Mission acknowledged,” she states coldly. “Commencing combat.”
Tatazo steps forward, voice trembling. “Tora… please destroy Lila. Muimui tampered with her; she won’t even respond to Masterpon anymore!”
Tora’s eyes widen, torn, but he swallows hard and nods, steeling himself. “Okay, Dadapon.”
He turns toward Lila, determination steadying on his face. “Come, Poppi!”
Poppi’s Ether Furnace ignites with a brilliant flare. “Poppi ready, Masterpon!”
Lila steadies her blasters and unleashes a rapid volley of pellets in our direction.
I step forward, swinging my sword in a wide vertical arc. A shimmering veil of water materializes before us. When the pellets hit, they’re instantly drained of momentum, dropping harmlessly to the ground with metallic clinks.
Tora doesn’t wait. He charges headlong, shield raised. With a deafening THUD, he slams into Lila, knocking her back against the platform’s edge.
“Poppi!” he cries out, voice cracking with emotion.
Poppi’s boosters flare to life, launching her into the air at the same moment Lila recovers and takes off. The two collide midair, hands locked, sparks flying as metal strains against metal. Their strength is evenly matched, neither gaining the upper hand as they hover, frozen in a deadlock.
They hang there, suspended by sheer force and propulsion, the roar of their boosters echoing through the chamber.
“Do not let her win, Poppi!” Tora yells, his tiny voice ringing louder than I’ve ever heard it, filled with unshakable resolve.
They continue to clash midair, every impact ringing out as metal grinds against metal, the shriek of their collisions echoing through the chamber.
“Comprehension error,” Lila states, voice cold and mechanical. “Your integrated Ether Furnace is not fully activated. As an updated model, my energy output is… superior.”
Poppi blocks a rocket-assisted kick, parrying the strike with expert precision. Sparks burst from their limbs as the force ripples through her frame. Her voice, though synthetic, resonates with unshakable will. “Energy output not the problem here. Masterpon told Poppi to win. So… Poppi will win.”
In one swift, calculated motion, Poppi shifts her center of gravity, allowing her axis to break in an intentional misbalance. The booster on her left leg flares violently, propelling her into a spinning roundhouse.
The kick lands squarely against Lila’s temple with brutal force. A sickening CRACK echoes through the room as Lila’s body hurtles backward, crashing into the wall and crumpling to the floor in a shower of sparks and debris.
“We may be machines…” Poppi begins, landing softly on the grated floor. Her voice, though artificial, trembles with something eerily close to anger. “But that gives no excuse for the suffering you have caused our Masterpons.”
She steps forward, her gaze locked on the ruined form at her feet. The glow from her core pulses with cold resolve. “And that… is why you are a failure.”
Poppi takes a step forward, a heavy step echoing through the room.
“Wait, please!” Tatazo's voice cuts through the tension, raw and desperate.
Poppi freezes mid-step, her head tilting slightly in response, servos whirring softly as she recalibrates.
Tatazo rushes to Lila’s side, dropping to his knees.
Lila lies broken, her faceplate cracked down the center, sparks flickering weakly from her crushed neck joint. Her limbs are twisted, legs folded beneath her in ways they were never designed to bend. Her once-pristine metallic dress hangs in tatters, streaked with soot and scorched metal.
Tatazo reaches out with trembling wings, gently brushing a piece of shattered glass from her cheek. His voice trembles. “She… she was never meant to be used this way…”
Tora steps forward, his voice small. “Dadapon…?”
A tear slips down Tatazo’s cheek. “Sorry, Tora. I never truly had the strength to see my Lila broken…” His gaze falls to her twisted form, his wings trembling. “Even if she no longer listens to me… even if she became a tool of evil… she is all I have left to remember my Dadapon, Soosoo. She’s all I have.”
A cruel voice shatters the quiet.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” Bana bellows, bursting with rage as he brandishes a remote. “You’ll take that Ether Furnace even if it destroys you!” He slams his wing onto a button.
Lila jolts upright, twitching unnaturally. Her limbs contort, snapping and cracking as her broken frame attempts to stand.
“L-Lila is…” Her voice warbles through static. A stream of dark oil drips from her eye, as if she were crying.
“You will take it, now!!” Bana shrieks, his voice cracking into madness.
“You don’t have to obey him!” Tatazo pleads. “Lila, you don’t need to take orders from anyone!”
Lila lifts her head weakly. Her voice, fragile, fractured, whispers, “Lila’s… Masterpon… is… Professor Soosoo…”
Then, with a trembling hand, she reaches toward her chest. Metal groans as her fingers plunge into her own chest cavity. She pulls free a small, black box, sparking and pulsing faintly. With the last of her strength, she crushes it in her palm.
The device explodes in a brief flash of light, and Lila collapses.
“S-she destroyed her own control device?!” Bana sputters, his voice shrill with disbelief. Panic replaces fury as he stumbles backward. “Muimui! Come, come! We regroup!”
The two Nopon flee through the doorway, vanishing into the shadows beyond.
Poppi rushes to Lila’s side, dropping to her knees. She lifts her broken sister gently into her arms, cradling her like something sacred.
“Poppi… is proud of you, sister Lila.”
Nia turns to me, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Typhos, we need to go after them. Let the others be.”
I glance at Vandham. He gives a silent nod, his eyes already scanning ahead.
Without another word, we sprint out of the room and into the factory’s vast interior. In the distance, a pair of colossal steel doors slam shut with a thunderous hiss.
“There!” Roc cries, wings outstretched as they lead the charge ahead.
We race across the metal floor, our footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. As we reach the sealed entrance, Nia glances at me, breath short. “Typhos, can you…?”
I nod. “Leave it to me.”
I raise my hand and summon the torrent within. A swirling orb of water gathers in my palm before launching into the door. The orb expands instantly, cascading across the metal like a living tide, coating the entire surface.
I breathe in deeply, reach down into the lawless root of this power, and speak my will.
“Crumble.”
The door groans, then folds in on itself, disintegrating in a wave of dust and rust at our feet.
Vandham chuckles behind me, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll never get used to watching you pull that off.”
“We don’t have time to gawk!” Nia snaps, already darting through the gap. “Move it!”
We surge after her, our footsteps pounding through the narrowing corridor, the echo of our pursuit swallowed by the steel walls around us.
Delta hums at my side, her voice smooth and calculated. “A competent use of your ability, Typhos. I sense your confidence growing.”
I nod, lifting my hand and staring at my palm mid-stride. “I need to stop fearing it. This power serves me; not the other way around.” A flicker of sorrow edges into my voice. “Malos never understood that. He never had the chance to.”
“The future is never certain, child,” Delta says, her voice firm but gentle. “Do not mourn paths not yet walked. Every step forward is a possibility—another page waiting to be written.”
I nod slowly. “Right. Malos hasn’t even awakened yet... his book isn’t one meant to be burned.”
We reach the end of the corridor, the air heavy with steel and silence.
“Beware those who would see your story left untold,” Delta continues. “For just as there is one within you who seeks to see your tale to its end... There is another who would rewrite it entirely. Write your story, Typhos, but do not abandon its pages.”
I laugh softly, a nervous flutter in my chest. “Your metaphors are getting more and more confusing, Delta.”
“I fear you understand them all too well,” she replies quietly.
Nia turns to me, her ears twitching slightly. “Everything alright, Typhos? What was Delta talking about?”
I shake my head. “Nothing to worry about, Nia. Let’s finish the job.”
We step out of the tunnel and into what looks like a massive hangar. A wide pool of water stretches out before us, and at the far end, several towering vats of glowing green liquid hum ominously.
“What is this place?” I murmur, my heart still pounding from Delta’s warning.
Suddenly, the ground trembles—metal beams groan, the air shudders, and I nearly lose my footing.
“NOPON, GO!” a voice roars from overhead, and we look up just in time to see a massive, plane-like machine soar above us.
The water in front of us splits violently, parting as a massive platform rises from below—perched atop it is…
“Is that—Lila?” I whisper, stunned.
What emerges is a towering, exaggerated version of her. A colossal, cartoonish Artificial Blade, clearly modeled after Lila, rises from the water on a mechanical lift. The flying machine lands neatly on her head, forming a disturbingly accurate maid’s cap.
Nia steps back, stifling a laugh. “W-what is that?”
Bana’s voice crackles from within the cockpit, shrill with pride. “Wahaha! How you like that!? Giant Artificial Blade built from Lila’s blueprints—her name is Rosa!”
Roc stretches their wings wide with a sharp crack of wind ether. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
We draw our weapons in sync, blades gleaming in the sickly green light.
“Let’s see how long this one lasts,” I say, eyes locked on Rosa’s massive frame. “Bring it on.”
I let energy pool at the tip of my weapon, and with a single, silent command, the tide responds.
Water surges out in a spiraling burst, rising to my ankles. I feel it—my will, my power—tied to the ebb and pull of every ripple.
Then, I release myself to it. My body dissolves into the current, my form merging with the flow.
Within the tide, I reach out with my mind—feel Nia, Dromarch, the others.
“Now!”
Nia’s already moving. Her Bitball arcs through the air and slams into Rosa’s towering frame. The giant Blade responds like her predecessor—but sluggish, her size a hindrance more than a strength.
I feel myself slither up her limbs, water threading through the crevices in her frame. I strike at joints, pry at weak points, coil around anything that might falter.
But when I pull back—reforming in a splash just ahead of the others—Rosa remains. Barely scratched.
I stare, breathless. “We’re… not doing anything.”
My sword flickers back into my grip, its surface alive with refracted light. Rosa looms over us, her movements slow but steady. Undeterred.
From the cockpit, Bana’s voice rings out, giddy. “Wahaha! Having trouble, Aegis? Rosa is made from extremely Ether-resistant alloy! Very, very hard to scratch!”
Dromarch tenses beside me, claws unsheathed. “I will draw her attention. Flee while—”
“No,” a voice cuts in.
We all turn to the doorway.
Tora and Poppi stand silhouetted against the light.
“Woah…” I breathe, eyes wide. “Poppi—your energy…”
She’s radiant. Literally. Ether pours off her in visible waves, her Ether Furnace blazing like a miniature sun. Every step she takes shimmers with purpose.
“All thanks to Sister Lila,” Poppi says, voice steady, before launching herself into the air. Ribbons of code twist around her as she spins midair, encasing her form in a brilliant weave of data and light.
When they vanish, she’s transformed.
Her armor is sleeker. Her silhouette refined. Longer pigtails hang from the side of her head, and her maid uniform mirrors Lila’s, but with subtle touches that are uniquely Poppi. Her Ether output is staggering.
Nia lets out a short, stunned laugh. “Aye, Tora, you really went with the maid outfit, huh?”
Tora flaps his wings proudly, bouncing in place. “Introducing… Poppi Form QT!”
Vandham throws his head back, roaring with laughter. “A cutie, eh? Works for me!”
Muimui sputters from inside the cockpit, “Meh-meh, impossible! She managed to fully power the Ether Furnace!”
I dispel the pool of water on the floor and glance back at Poppi. “Lead the way!”
Poppi charges, slamming into Rosa with a CRUNCH. A deep dent forms in Rosa’s armor, causing her to stagger backward. Poppi tosses her twin arms—identical to Lila’s weapons—back to Tora, who catches them mid-stride.
“Pow-Pow Canon!” Tora yells, launching a volley of blasts.
The blasts strike Rosa’s armor with a series of violent collisions, but she stands her ground, unyielding.
“Friend Nia! Typhos! Now!” Tora shouts, and we surge forward.
Nia tosses her Bitball to Crossette, who spins it on her finger before sending it crashing into Rosa. The blades rip into the weakened armor, exposing fragile mechanical parts and wiring. “Go! Great Star!”
I swoop in, carving through the exposed wiring. Each strike leaves droplets of water hanging in the air, mirroring my attack on Lila. I leap backward, urging the droplets to crash into my target. “Steam Bomb: Drowned Oblivion !”
The orbs of water explode with the force of steam, filling the open cavity in Rosa’s chest, igniting sparks within.
Poppi ascends into the air, her hands encased in her mech arms. She takes aim, shouting, “Steam Explosion: NOPONIC DESTRUCTION !”
The pellets slam into Rosa, detonating with an explosion of steam and fire.
The Plane-hat apparatus is sent flying through the ceiling, disappearing from view.
I let out a breath. “Whew, I hesitate to say they got away, but…”
I glance at the hole in the ceiling. “Well, we’ll have to track them down eventually, but I doubt they’ll be much of a threat for a while.”
“Look, My Lady!” Dromarch calls, pointing to a small shape darting across the room.
“Muimui!” Nia shouts, taking off in pursuit of the fleeing Nopon.
We chase him into a nearby area, through a natural, rocky archway. We emerge into a harbor nestled within a cave, the Cloud Sea stretching out on our right, and a jagged rock wall to our left.
“Muimui!” I yell, causing the Nopon to freeze in his tracks against the rock wall. “You need to stop the production of Artificial Blades!”
Muimui flutters his wings, trembling. “W-without Bana, there is no production! Muimui has no part in this anymore!”
“You know we can’t allow that, little Nopon.” A familiar voice rings out from the ledge beside the Cloud Sea.
We turn to see four figures. In the center stands Patroka, her Blade by her side, a canon gripped tightly in her hands. To her left is Akhos, a massive bow slung across his back. On their right stands an unfamiliar man, clad in silver armor, two long, trailing capes resembling wings flowing behind him. His messy brown hair frames striking amber eyes that gleam with intensity.
“That guy on the right…” I whisper, “He almost looks like Addam.”
I turn to Nia, only to find her frozen in place. Her ears are pressed flat against her head, her eyes wide with shock. She stirs, her voice barely a whisper. “No, Typhos…”
She swallows, her voice shaking. “He looks like Rex .”
Notes:
MWAHAHA shenanigans.
Next chapter will only be crazier >:)
Prepare yourselves boys
Chapter 39: He Who Stands at the End
Summary:
They clash, and he awakens.
Notes:
Woot, heres the chapter I was so excited about? I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“He looks like Rex ,” Nia whispers, her ears pressed flat against her head.
I narrow my eyes, studying the figure more closely, and the resemblance hits me like a wave. He’s older, sure. His hair is longer, unkempt, and wild, more akin to Addam’s windswept look than Rex’s shorter cut style. But his face… his eyes… they could be Rex’s reflection, aged up and worn by time.
“But it’s impossible,” Nia murmurs, her gaze locked on the man as if she’s afraid he’ll vanish. “He’s too young. Maybe old enough to be his brother, but… there’s no way he could be…”
Vandham steps forward, his expression grim. “Kid, you’re missing the obvious.”
He lifts his scythe, pointing it directly at the man’s chest.
A single plate of silver armor gleams in the light, right over his heart, a Core Crystal shines. Azure-blue, shaped like a turbine, pulsing softly with Ether.
Nia’s ears twitch sharply upright. “He’s… a Blade?”
The man exhales, rolling his eyes. “You know, it’s rude to gossip,” he says, his voice low and worn, like leather smoothed by years of use. “If you’ve got something to say, out with it.”
I step in front of Nia without thinking, hand on my sword. “Who are you?”
He places a hand casually on the thin, twisted sword at his hip. “Name’s Regis. And yes, as you’ve probably guessed, I'm with Torna.”
He draws the blade with a slow, deliberate hiss. Ether dances along the metal’s edge, the sound of it scraping against the scabbard shrill and unnatural.
“But… if he’s a Blade, why carry a scabbard?” I mutter under my breath, eyes locked on the Core Crystal embedded in his chest, shimmering a deep, brilliant azure.
Delta floats beside me in silence, her gaze fixed on him. “The resemblance is truly uncanny.” She surprises me by sliding into a small pouch I wear on my side, and I feel the bond between myself and the machine disconnect. She’s returned to me, her presence steady in the back of my mind.
Before I can say more, Patroka steps forward, slipping between Regis and us. She pushes him back gently with one arm. “Step aside, Regis. Akhos and I have unfinished business with these two.”
Akhos joins her, wordless, pulling the massive bow from his back. In the center of the grip, a familiar crystal gleams, blue, yet tinged with rose-pink, unmistakable.
Nia’s breath catches. Her hands fly to her chest, as if shielding something fragile. “Akhos… I should’ve known.”
Akhos scoffs. “Yes, I imagine you should have, Nia.”
His voice is cold, but seething beneath the surface. Rage, betrayal, something more.
My eyes flick between the crystal on his bow, and the identical one embedded in his chest.
“He’s a Flesh Eater,” I say, my voice low.
Before anyone can respond, Akhos raises his bow. An arrow of raw Ether materializes on the string, sleek, pulsing with malice.
He looses it without a word.
I throw up my arm, summoning a crude wall of water just in time. The arrow slams into it with a violent splash, sending a shockwave rippling across the cavern.
Patroka’s Blade is already moving. It charges in, four arms, four weapons, each one brimming with deadly energy. Our weapons clash in a thunderous collision, sparks crackling where Ether meets Ether.
I brace against the force, sliding back, but before I’m overwhelmed, Vandham barrels in like a storm.
With a shout, he tears the Blade off of me, meeting it head-on. A whirlwind engulfs them both as Vandham unleashes a blinding flurry of strikes, so fast I can barely follow the motion.
I stagger back, just in time to catch sight of Patroka hanging back with Akhos. Her canon is raised, already mid-volley.
A hail of Ether bullets rains toward us, each shot glowing green and laced with high-density energy.
“Nia! Scatter!” I shout, raising my blade to deflect the incoming fire.
In a single motion, I tap the ground with the tip of my sword. Water erupts from within me, forming a raging riptide that swirls into a sphere, intercepting the oncoming Ether bullets.
I will the current to bend to my command, absorbing the hostile energy, twisting it into something mine.
From the sphere, five tendrils surge forth, serpentine heads of coiled fury, moving with lethal precision.
“Ether Control: Hydra!”
The heads snap forward, striking like vipers. Each one latches onto a target—wrapping around limbs, weapons, torsos, seizing control.
Patroka rages against the water, futilely writhing in its grip. “Damn thing is… Sapping my strength!”
With a sharp flick of my wrist, the tendrils whip back and slam our enemies into the rock wall with a sickening CRUNCH that echoes through the cavern.
Akhos, Patroka, and her Blade crumple from the wall, their Ether drained, bodies hitting the ground in a tangle of limbs and armor.
The swirling water around me dissipates, fading into mist. Only the pounding of my heart and the rasp of my breath remain.
“That... still takes a lot out of me,” I mutter between gasps, my shoulders heaving.
Regis steps forward, unhurried, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. “And this is why Mythra sent all three of us,” he says, more weary than surprised.
He lifts a single hand. The air bends to his will—wind whipping through the chamber as it sweeps up the fallen Torna agents and deposits them behind him like discarded pieces on a board.
With a soft hiss, he draws his sword again. Wind coils around the tri-tipped blade, feeding into its twisted form, extending its reach like a spear of storm.
“I apologize for my comrades,” Regis says with a sigh, as though offering an explanation for spilled tea. “They let their emotions outrun their blades.”
Wind howls around Regis as it gathers beneath his feet, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. From his back, a ring of Ether flares into being, an emerald halo that hovers behind him, pulsing with raw energy.
The air surges, pressure mounting in an instant. Gale-force winds whip through the chamber, blinding us in a cyclone of dust and Ether.
Before I can react, before I can even see,he’s already on us.
A single, explosive impact rings through the cavern, my back erupting in pain.
Our screams tear through the storm as Regis strikes, and we’re sent hurtling backward, helpless against the force of his assault.
“Dance of the Wind God.” Regis’ voice cuts through the storm, clear and unwavering, unnaturally calm despite the chaos swirling around us.
I lift my sword in protest, trying to strike, to do something—but the wind is too strong. Every movement is sluggish. My limbs tremble from the earlier clash with Akhos and Patroka. My Ether reserves are stretched thin, the edge of collapse yawning beneath my feet.
“ You overplayed your hand, Typhos ,” Delta says, her voice not disappointed, but firm in warning. “ That should have been your last resort. You stand on the brink of burnout .”
A gust erupts beneath me, twisting violently, and the next thing I know—I’m airborne.
I hit the stone floor with a crack, the world spinning as my skull bounces off the harbor’s cold edge. Pain blooms behind my eyes.
“Owww…” I groan, pressing a hand to my pounding head.
Beside me, Nia lies sprawled, her palms bracing against the stone. “How’re we supposed to beat the guy,” she pants, “when we can’t even see him?”
I will the water to shield me, wrapping its embrace around my form like armor against the winds that threaten to flay me alive. As before, I cry for the Hydra—desperate, trembling.
“Ether Control!” I scream, the force of the invocation tearing through my chest like broken glass.
The Hydra snaps into existence, its five heads gnashing at the storm—helpless against the howling cyclone. They strike at nothing, biting at wind and shadows. Regis is everywhere, yet nowhere, his presence echoes in every whisper, every gust, every unseen blow against the stone.
I force myself upright, hands scraping the cold floor. My sword appears in my grasp, its weight nearly dragging me back to the ground.
“I’m sorry, Delta,” I whisper, voice cracking. I lower the blade’s tip to the floor, pressing it into the stone as if anchoring my soul. “My power is meaningless if I can’t touch him. So…”
“ Typhos, no! ” Delta’s voice slams through my thoughts, fear sharper than any blade. “If you try to call that, there’s no turning back. He’ll tear through every boundary we have placed. ”
But I’ve already begun.
I thrust the sword into the ground. Cracks spiderweb beneath it, the stone groaning in protest.
And deeper, deeper than I’ve ever dared to go, I reach.
Past the bottom of the sea, past the lightless trench, past the world’s last breath.
Down to Him.
To the sleeping beast.
To He Who Stands at the End.
To the Abyss.
I command the ocean to rise, to tear through sky and stone and shatter every law it’s ever obeyed.
“Big Brother…” I whisper into the stillness between heartbeats. “Spare them. Even if you must take me.”
The tide answers.
The sea boils upward, sculpting itself into a fragile cathedral of water and stone, a monument to unspoken promises. A crown of waves rests on the world’s edge, the very rules of Ether kneeling before it.
A voice, not mine, yet born of me, rings through the harbor like the deep toll of a bell:
“Cathedral of Silence.”
And then, I fade.
Body, mind, self, washed away in the wake of the god I dared to wake.
[REGIS]
The wind dies.
I hit the ground hard, sword slipping from my grasp.
Above me—where there should be stone—there’s a cathedral of light and sea. Water arches into impossible structures, glimmering with ethereal gravity.
I rise, weak, shaken, and I retrieve my blade and look to my enemies.
They stare not at me, but at Him, standing at the center of the room.
He stands tall, His hair flowing to his ankles, if you can even call it hair.
His armor, his eyes, his hair… a walking abyss, devouring the light.
Only his skin glows pale, ghostlike. And the Core Crystal in his chest, a burning amethyst.
He speaks, a faint smirk curling on his black lips. “Oh, dear little brother. A plea so earnest, so pitiful… I suppose I may oblige.”
His voice is deep, resonant, echoing across the chamber
He turns his gaze aside, arms crossed behind his back, and an Amethyst Core shimmers into being beside him. Around it, Ether coils into form—a transparent, single-edged blade, its handguard replaced by an empty, unsettling ring.
“Now,” he says softly, “let’s see who pushed the boy to such desperation.”
With eerie grace, he lifts off the ground and glides toward me, silent as a shadow.
He stops just above, peering down with those abyssal eyes—no pupils, no whites, just endless dark. They pierce through me, measuring, weighing, judging something deeper than flesh.
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “My, my… how interesting.”
His voice purrs with amusement, with something ancient and amused by mortal things.
“It seems the Hero-Prince’s bloodline lingers… even now.”
He taps the Core in my chest with one finger. The contact sends a cold shiver through my spine.
“A human with a Core Crystal,” he murmurs, voice dropping into a whisper like the edge of a blade. “A truly novel concept. But be cautious… it may leave you vulnerable to… alteration.”
I force the words past the tightness in my throat. “What’s that supposed to mean? What did you do with the Aegis?”
He tilts his head, as if savoring the sight of me. The smirk deepens.
“How curious… not just one, but both of my Drivers, tied to your blood?” He clicks his tongue softly. “Fate is such a tedious little playwright.”
My heart stutters. But I bury the panic, the implications. I raise my blade.
“Enough,” I growl. “I’m not going to just lie down and die.”
I swing.
The summoned blade of Amethyst meets mine with an effortless clash.
The impact reverberates through my arms—numb, weakened. The Ether that once fueled me has thinned, leeched from the air like breath stolen by a storm.
Still, I fight.
My blade shakes. My stance falters. But I stand.
Because I refuse.
I refuse to fall.
Not now. Not here.
“You fight on. Etherless. Pointless.”
His voice is a whisper and a thunderclap all at once.
“And yet, you carry your blade. You stride forward—toward a future that may never come.”
With a flick of his fingers, the floating sword surges backward, nearly tearing mine from my grasp. I stagger, but hold fast.
“Tell me, then,” he says, voice low, curious. “What fuels you?”
I draw a breath, shaky but steadying.
“As long as I still have a sword in my hand… and hope that my goal might be achieved—”
I raise my weapon, both hands gripping tight.
“—then my knees will never know the ground!”
I swing downward, all the strength I have left behind it—every fragment of will, every flickering thread of defiance.
He catches it.
Bare-handed.
A smirk plays on his lips as the blade halts inches from his face. “Gravity,” he murmurs.
The air thickens, and in the blink of an eye, the weight of the world crashes onto my shoulders. I collapse—
—almost.
My knees hover a hair above the ground, stopped from touching it by an unseen force.
“See?” Endbringer coos, circling me like a lion around a wounded beast. “Your knees still have not known the ground, boy.”
He leans in close, whispering as if sharing a secret.
“I’ve taken a liking to you. If only you were my Driver.”
Then something shifts.
He steps back suddenly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his otherwise perfect composure. A hand touches his temple, fingers curling like claws. A pulse of… something flickers behind his eyes. Pain? Memory?
“Hm. Didn't like that thought, did you, boy?”
He shakes it off with a slow breath, the sword drifting back into his hand with a soft chime of Ether. The amusement in his tone returns, quieter, darker.
“The point stands, I suppose.”
He gestures past me.
Behind, I sense movement, Akhos, Patroka, Perdido. They stir, groaning, still dazed but alive.
Endbringer’s smirk deepens. “For entertaining me… I’ll offer you a mercy.”
He lifts a hand, indicating the others, his voice silky and cruel.
“Your blood alone need not balance the scales. So, tell me, Regis…”
A pause. Silence stretches thin and taut.
“Whose blood will sate the souls of those you've killed? The lives of your comrades…or your own?”
Notes:
hehehe, whaddya think?
Also, RIP William Roberts, dromarchs English VA :(
Chapter 40: The Fate of the World
Summary:
Endbringer makes Regis choose, but the scales need not be balanced with bloodshed.
Notes:
A shorter chapter, but mainly to set up the next Arc. Next time, we meet up with Rex again, and move on to Leftheria!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REGIS]
“What?”
The word slips from my lips, barely more than a breath. I almost don’t want to believe him.
“The blood on your hands runs deep, boy.”
The End coos, his voice silken and low, dripping with cruel affection.
His abyssal hair cascades forward, framing his face like falling ink as he leans closer.
“Equilibrium must be reestablished,” he murmurs. “Such is the law of existence.”
Behind me, a groan—Patroka stirs, lifting her head from the fractured floor.
“R-Regis?” Her voice is weak, trembling. “What… what is that?”
Lavender sparks begin to shimmer in the god’s eyes and hair, drifting upward like embers torn from reality.
A smirk spreads slowly across his face.
“Your resolve must not waver, child of Addam.”
I whirl around.
Akhos is on his feet now too, barely. He and Patroka prop each other up, but the color is draining fast from his face.
He’s staring at Endbringer like a man facing the edge of the world.
“Y-you’re…” he breathes, voice shaking. “Endbringer?”
The god grins.
It’s not a smile that shows teeth. It’s a smile that reveals nothing.
Even his mouth is an abyss, no tongue, no teeth, no light. Only a yawning void.
He gives a mocking bow, fluid and theatrical.
“A pleasure, surely.”
Akhos flinches.
“But that’s not—” he stammers. “That’s not how Mythra described you. You’ve… changed.”
Endbringer straightens.
Just a tilt of the head—subtle, measured, predatory. Like a cat eyeing a broken-winged bird.
His voice is silk, threaded with amusement.
“Ah… Mythra.”
He says her name with the weight of history, like a mourner speaking of a sister long since buried.
“Even now, she pretends to understand what she helped forge.”
He lifts a finger, languid and deliberate.
A thread of Ether unfurls from its tip, lavender and luminous, writhing like a serpent in open air.
“Change is inevitable, little Blade.”
The smirk returns, darker than before.
“Especially when one's purpose is evolution… through destruction. Or reconstruction, depending on the circumstance.”
A sigh escapes him. The smile fades.
“I suppose that sister of mine was correct on one matter.”
He raises his arm, inspecting the glint of immaculate, obsidian nails with idle detachment.
“Having a physical form… is a unique pleasure.”
“What do you want from us?” Akhos spits, anger overtaking fear.
Endbringer waves a dismissive hand, not even sparing him a glance.
“Oh, it’s nothing for you to concern yourselves with.”
His gaze slides back to me like a blade returning to its sheath.
“Your friend was simply about to decide which of you was going to die.”
“Regis?” Patroka's voice shakes. Her eyes widen as she turns to me.
“You were what?”
I meet her gaze, then rise slowly to my feet, steady now.
The weight still crushes my shoulders, but I no longer waver beneath it.
I look Endbringer in the eyes—the abyss staring back.
“Lord of the End,” I say, my voice resolute, “I… must live on. If I die here, there’s no hope for him.”
A beat of silence. Then, “See?” Endbringer's lips curl upward again as he lowers gently to the ground, no longer levitating. “It wasn’t that difficult.”
He gestures vaguely, as if citing a footnote in history.
“Even Addam could’ve taken note from your example, dear.” His voice lowers into something cold, approving. “Having the will to make necessary decisions… is the first mark of a king.”
He lifts a gentle palm to the air.
Ether spirals upward, coalescing into a shape—two great, gleaming scales. They expand rapidly, immense in size, until they fill a large portion of the cavern. With a low, reverent hum, the construct settles onto the ground before us, its surface rippling with violet light.
With a mere flick of Endbringer’s hand, something pulses through me.
A jolt—sharp, cold.
Light bursts from the Core Crystal in my chest, and I feel it again behind me—two more flares. Akhos. Patroka.
The light drawn from us streams into the air, dividing.
Mine flows to the left side of the scale. Theirs to the right.
The scales waver for a moment, suspended in delicate motion…
Then they level. Balanced. Perfectly.
A low rumble builds in Endbringer’s chest—pleasure vibrating in every syllable as he exhales.
“Balance, achieved once more.”
He turns, eyes falling on the right scale. His hand lifts toward it, and amethyst Ether begins to glow in his palm.
Akhos whirls to face me, panic in his voice.
“Regis… what did you just agree to?”
I can’t meet his gaze. I turn away.
“I’m sorry.”
Endbringer’s voice is a purr, smooth and chilling.
“May the fate of the world be held in stride.”
The light in his palm pulses. Brighter, and brighter, until it consumes the chamber, it devours the shadows, consumes the walls. It swallows the sky above the cathedral of water and light. Me. Akhos. Patroka. The scales. The god. The end. Fate itself. There is no color, only blinding, absolute light. No sound, only the deafening silence that follows judgment. And then… A heartbeat. Mine? The world’s? I don’t know.
The silence breaks, not with a crash, but with a soft, melodic chime, like glass shattering underwater. Reality returns in fragments. The stone beneath my palms. Cold air in my lungs.
I look up, and the scales are gone. Akhos and Patroka stand still behind me, quiet, but unharmed.
In the scales place is a young woman, with long brown hair, and white clothing. Simple, but not entirely out of place. Light shines from the staff in her hand as she faces the Lord of the End, alone, quiet, but not without respect.
“Second Sword of the Architect, He Who Commands the Fate of the World….” Her voice is gentle, soft. Filled with gravity, yet immense respect. “Surely we can find a different way to balance your scales?”
Notes:
Typhos is okay, but Endbringer is no longer sealed away. He will be back, and he will be an actual character akin to Typhos and Malos.
Also, Malos IS coming soon! I promise, I have his awakening already planned out. Leftheria is going to be... fun :)
Chapter 41: Scales
Summary:
Fan la Norne and Endbringer barter, and reunite with Rex.
Chapter Text
[ENDBRINGER]
The girl is small, appearing no older than a teenager, yet she stands before me as though gravity has never known her name. The Etherlight branching from her staff weaves outward like roots of starlight, forming a quiet boundary. Not a prison. not a wall. A… line. A line that even I hesitate to cross.
Despite the radiance, despite the power, there’s no threat in her posture. No imposition, no demands. Only presence.
I regard her carefully. My voice hums low in my throat.
“Hmmm… your face seems familiar…” I murmur, tilting my head, letting my hair sway like curtains of shadow.
“What was your name… Lora? Or was it Haze?”
Her face tightens, the light around her dimming ever so slightly.
She grips her staff, then releases, lowering her gaze in something not quite grief, not quite shame.
“I apologize, Lord of the End,” she says softly, barely a whisper.
“I’m afraid that you are mistaken. My name is Fan la Norne. Ambassador to Praetor Amalthus. First Arm of the Architect.” Her voice fades, as if thinking twice about her words. “Acting Voice of God.”
The words strike me like a foreign memory.
My fingers curl, and the blade I held disappears, no longer needed.
He would dare…?
“He would claim to hear the voice of our Father?” I ask, my tone low, straining against contempt.
Her eyes flicker, uncertain, not with fear, but with something more human. Guilt? Confusion?
No… mourning.
“I understand not your surprise, milord,” she murmurs, voice drifting like a prayer undone by wind.
She is still thinking about what I said before,
Lora. Haze.
Names buried beneath names.
I exhale, shaking off the dust of the past, reclaiming the present.
“So be it. I suppose it matters not…”
I pause, letting the weight of the moment settle.
“In the End.”
I nearly chuckle. Nearly.
“You mentioned,” I continue, folding my hands behind my back, “You had a… different solution, Lady Fan?”
“You mentioned that it’s the souls of those they’ve harmed that need recompense,” she says again, more confidently this time.
“Perhaps they could do this by… helping others. Community service. They can work under the employ of Indol until you have deemed that they have restored the balance.”
She hesitates, perhaps bracing for my disdain, but continues anyway.
“Because if you kill them, that only leaves the ‘balance’ of their group askew.
It leaves you open to retaliation.” There it is, tact wrapped in logic, mercy disguised as strategy.
How clever.
Her suggestion lingers in the air like the last note of a sacred hymn. Community service, how quaint.
Yet I feel no derision.
She speaks not from arrogance or ignorance, but from a place far more dangerous: hope.
I study her, letting the silence stretch, not to intimidate, but to ensure she understands what it is she dares to ask.
I tap my chin, feigning a moment of thought, but the truth is, I’d already decided.
“Perhaps your words hold merit, Fan la Norne,” I say at last.
“But I have but one condition.”
Her shoulders straighten, her grip tightening in anticipation.
“You need only name it.”
I let my gaze drift toward the broken prince, Addam’s descendant, standing apart in silence, stillness, shame.
“If they are to work to restore their balance,” I say slowly, “They must in turn restore his.”
I pause, eyes narrowing, tracing the silhouette that so maddeningly resembles both a ghost and the living.
“Consider it a favor toward…” I smile faintly, “…The Second Arm of the Architect.”
Fan la Norne bows her head, relief softening the sharp line of her posture.
“Very well, milord. I shall see it done.”
She glances over her shoulder, toward the others—Nia, Tora, Vandham. But her eyes move past them, scanning for someone else.
Someone missing.
“Though,” she says gently, “where is the Second Arm?
Surely that Gormotti girl is not your Driver?”
I chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that echoes with the weight of the void.
“No. Rex fights elsewhere on the Titan, alongside the Special Inquisitor…”
I let the words hang for a breath. Then:
“And the Risen Aegis of Flame. The First Sword of the Architect, Reforged.”
[REX]
“W-what!?” I shout, heart hammering. “What happened to Typhos!?”
There’s no time to think, no room to breathe. I move.
I draw Corvin’s blade and charge toward the figure before me, the one wearing Typhos’ Core like a trophy, like it belongs to him.
But I don’t make it far.
My collar jerks tight. I stumble back, choking slightly.
“Rex. You must stay calm.”
Mórag’s voice is like iron, steady despite the pale strain in her arm holding me back.
I glare past her at him, the man standing where Typhos should be.
He looks human, but there’s nothing right about him.
That Core in his chest glows faintly. Typhos’ Core.
And those black lips curve in a knowing, venomous smirk.
I feel my stomach twist. “N-Nia?” I croak, desperate for something to make sense.
She’s standing just off to the side of him.
Her ears are folded back against her head, her expression confused—conflicted.
Her voice is small. “I-it’s okay, Rex. He helped… kinda?”
What?
We’re gathered outside the inn now. The others are here.
Poppi stands tall, changed. New form. New armor.
But the bruises, the blood, the exhaustion on everyone’s face is unmistakable.
And yet, the worst of it… is him.
He stands calmly, comfortably, like he belongs. Like we invited him.
The presence we feared, the being we fought to avoid, right here.
Grinning like it’s all some cosmic joke.
I feel Pyra step forward beside me. I don’t even need to look to know she’s ready.
Her dulled sword flickers into her grip, crackling with quiet flame.
She raises it toward him.
“You will explain yourself, brother,” she says, voice unwavering, heat simmering beneath the words.
“I will see both Typhos and Delta returned, even if it means raising my blade against you.”
“If I may…”
The voice is soft, almost delicate, emerging from behind him. A young woman steps forward, her presence quiet but undeniable.
I instinctively take a step back. “Wait… I’ve seen you before. What was your name—Haze?”
She flinches at the name, but her gaze shifts to Pyra with practiced grace. “It’s an honor to meet you, Milady.” Then, she glances toward me, her tone just as gentle. “And you, Milord.”
Pyra lowers her sword slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”
“I-I doubt it,” the girl replies quickly, raising her hands in deference. “But I mean no harm, I promise.”
A soft light pulses from the trigonal Core Crystal in her chest.
“What’s going on?” I murmur, barely able to find my voice.
She straightens her posture just a bit. “I come on behalf of the Indoline Praetorium, as an Ambassador for His Eminence, Praetor Amalthus. My name is Fan la Norne.”
Her voice grows steadier as she speaks. “My original purpose was to find you, Lord Rex… but I arrived amid a conflict between the Second Sword and the remnants of Torna.”
My eyes snap to Nia, panic rising. I fight the urge to rush to her side. “Torna!? Are they—are you—okay?”
Endbringer chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that chills the air. “Well, evidently not, child.”
He gestures to himself with a theatrical sweep, his inky hair billowing as if stirred by an unseen wind. “But the pieces are back in play… for now.”
Fan la Norne dips her head, hands folded politely in front of her. “They live, though not without scars. Some physical… some far deeper.”
I glance between her and him, he one she calls The Second Sword. The one with Typhos’ Core.
My fists clench. “That doesn’t answer—”
“Everyone is alive, Rex,” Nia says softly, stepping toward me. Her voice trembles, but it’s firm enough to stop me in place. “There was a battle, yeah. A bad one. But Fan, she stopped it.”
Endbringer’s grin spreads, lazy and knowing. “How quaint. They forget so quickly how close they were to oblivion. But do not fret,” he adds, stepping forward, his abyssal eyes sweeping over the group, “I’ve no desire to finish what was already settled… for now.”
Pyra doesn’t lower her sword all the way, but her flame dims.
Fan turns to her. “Lady Pyra, your brother has agreed to terms that preserved lives. His mercy was... unconventional, but ultimately just.”
“And what were those terms?” Pyra asks, her voice taut with tension.
Fan la Norne exhales, her brow creasing. “Akhos, Patroka, and Perdido were to be judged for the lives they’ve taken. The scales demanded blood. But instead, Lord Endbringer accepted a different offering: service. They are now bound to restore what they’ve broken.”
“I was under the impression the Voice of the End does not negotiate,” Mórag says coolly, her arms folded.
“Things change, Special Inquisitor,” Endbringer purrs, lazily inspecting his nails.
I let out a shaky breath. “Alright… fine. What about Typhos and Delta? Are you planning to hold them hostage until I play your game?”
Endbringer glances up, his blackened lips curling into a smile. “Mmm, no. I see no point in that. In fact, I’m prepared to return them to you—right now.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” I snap.
“Ohoho! There’s fire in you yet,” Endbringer chuckles, “Perhaps you do have what it takes.”
“Endbringer,” Pyra warns, her blade flaring to life, heat rippling around her, “My patience is not infinite.”
He raises both hands in mock surrender, but his grin doesn’t fade. “Then allow me to leave you with a parting thought, dear children.”
His voice darkens, resonant and low.
“The shackles that once held me are broken. No effort from Typhos, Malos… not even that dear sister of mine, will keep me dormant forever. When the time comes, I will awaken again—”
He pauses, flicking his hair back with theatrical flair.
“to balance the scales… or perhaps simply to say hello.”
Endbringer vanishes in a burst of amethyst light, the air humming for a breath before settling. In his place, Typhos appears, his form limp, crumpling to the ground.
Vandham moves fast, catching him before he hits the stone.
Vandham exhales shakily, resting Typhos’ limp form on his shoulder. He pats his back gently, Typhos stirring lightly. “We’ve had a long day,” he mutters. “Let’s get some rest… and pick this up in the morning, Lady Fan la Norne.”
Fan la Norne nods, folding her hands gently. “Very well. I shall leave you in peace.”
Mórag steps forward, arms still crossed, but her tone softening. “I’ll see that arrangements are made for you to stay here tonight. We’ll discuss our next course of action at first light.”
[NIA]
“Nia, are you sure we shouldn’t tell Rex?” Crossette’s eyes are fixed on me, worry written all over her face.
“I-I don’t even know how to tell him, Crossette,” I whisper, pressing my palms into my eyes. “Like—‘Hey Rex, we might’ve met your dad. He’s working with the enemy and totally fixated on helping some mystery guy. Didn’t say anything about a son.’ That’s not exactly an easy conversation.”
Crossette leans forward, voice soft. “Maybe just talking to him would help. You’re carrying too much of this alone.”
I glance toward the door that connects our rooms, my breath catching in my chest. After a moment, I nod. “Yeah… you’re right.”
I open the door carefully.
Rex is sitting at the desk, hunched over his journal. Typhos lies unconscious on the bed, his chest rising in slow, steady breaths.
“Rex?” I say gently.
He looks up. His eyes are red.
He’s been crying.
“H-hey, Nia.” He quickly wipes at his face. “Everything okay?”
I cross the room and pull out a chair beside him. “I think I should be asking you that.”
Sitting down, my gaze falls to the journal in front of him, the page filled with tight, careful handwriting. “What are you writing about this time?”
He gives a soft, shaky laugh. “Just… stuff from the mission with Mórag. It kinda turned into more of a training session than a full-on Anti-Imperial mission. I’ve gotten a lot better with Corvin.”
He hesitates, then adds, “Pyra doesn’t really like me using the sword, though. Says it’s too damaged for me to bring out its full strength. She says only she can handle it right now.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I say, trying to sound light. “She always felt more like a support type anyway. One less thing for you to worry about.”
I fight the urge to reach out and take his hand.
Rex shakes his head, gaze drifting toward Typhos on the bed. “I just wish I’d been there. Maybe… maybe Typhos wouldn’t have had to go that far if I’d been around.”
“It wasn’t just Akhos and Patroka,” I murmur, lowering my voice. “There was someone else. That’s what changed everything.”
Rex looks up, his brow furrowing. “Someone else? Who?”
“He looked like a Blade… but not completely,” I say. “When he fought, he vanished into the wind. It was like trying to fight a ghost—untouchable, unpredictable.”
Rex’s focus sharpens, his eyes locked onto mine now. “And?”
“We didn’t stand a chance. We were like fish in a barrel—he could strike at us whenever he wanted, and we couldn’t land a single hit in return.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “That’s why Typhos did it. He summoned Endbringer… to drown the Ether, to force the guy to take form.”
Rex doesn’t say anything, but I can see the way his fingers tighten around the edge of the desk.
I swallow hard, my voice quiet. “There’s more. Typhos said the guy looked like Addam. And Endbringer, he called him a descendant of Addam.”
Rex’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the flicker in his eyes. The storm starting to rise behind them.
“What did you think he looked like, Nia?” Rex whispers,
I take his hand, my gaze locked on the journal in front of us.
“I thought he looked like you , Rex.”
Notes:
idk but endbringer ended up being a bit of a diva and I kinda love that lmfao
Whaddya think? I'm having fun with him lol.
They just kinda let Regis go, but they didn't want to mention him in front of Rex
I love Rex and Nia so muchhhhhhh,
I'm gonna drag that out until it HURTS, be prepared
Chapter 42: Home.
Summary:
Rex and Co. go home to Leftheria
Notes:
Leftheria time!
05/14/2025 Edit: Made a small refinement to the Ophion biological data sequence, felt like it needed a little attention.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“It is a pleasure to see your group return safely, Rex,” Emperor Niall says, offering a warm smile. “Though… I can see it wasn’t without hardship.”
I let out a long breath. “Actually, Lady Mórag and I had a remarkably smooth mission. But the second group…” I hesitate, the guilt crawling in. “They had a much harder time. We underestimated the situation.”
Concern flickers across Niall’s face, his brow furrowing. “That surprises me. What happened?”
Before I can answer, his gaze shifts past me—his expression tightening into shock.
A smooth, resonant voice cuts through the silence. “Allow me, child.”
I turn to see Endbringer stepping forward, his long, inky hair gliding across the crimson velvet carpet. Each movement is slow, deliberate—less like a man and more like a shadow with weight.
He kneels before the Emperor with a mocking elegance. “Truly, an honor, Your Majesty.”
Lifting his head, his abyssal eyes meet Niall’s with eerie calm, studying him with a strange, analytical intensity—like he’s dissecting something unseen.
Niall regains his composure swiftly, squaring his shoulders. “I take it you are the ‘Endbringer’ they spoke of?”
“A name given—and one I accept,” Endbringer says, rising with theatrical grace. “Their group encountered… complications. A confrontation with Torna, deep within the Abandoned Factory. Young Typhos stood on the brink, caught between capture and annihilation. And as you can see…” He gestures to himself with a shallow bow, “He chose the latter. Or rather… he chose me.”
“Lord Endbringer…” Niall begins, his voice cautious, “What could drive Typhos to such a state? How could an Aegis fall so far?”
“A mingling of a Blade’s Core Crystal and human DNA,” Endbringer purrs.
“A Flesh Eater?” Niall asks, brows raised.
Endbringer slowly shakes his head. “No. What you call Flesh Eaters are Blades altered by consuming or integrating human components. This is the reverse—a human implanted with a Blade’s Core Crystal.”
He tilts his head, a smirk forming. “So if we must name it… ‘Blade Eater’ would be more accurate.”
Niall’s eyes widen. “Is that… truly possible?”
“It is, Your Majesty,” Fan la Norne says, stepping forward. “In my search for the Second Arm, I found the Second Sword in battle with the Blade Eater. He fought as both Blade and Driver, indistinguishable from one another. It was… astonishing. Indol has long studied the theory of such fusion, but I was unaware that a subject with this level of output even existed.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Nia interjects, her voice tight. “What’s with all this ‘Arm’ and ‘Sword’ talk? I’ve never heard anyone call the Aegis or their Driver that before.”
Niall clears his throat, drawing our attention. “It comes from the teachings of Indol. After the Aegis War, many began to revere not only the Architect—but the Aegises themselves.”
Fan nods, continuing. “To them, the Aegis is the ‘Sword of the Architect,’ and their Driver, the ‘Arm that wields it.’ That belief is the foundation of Praetor Amalthus’ divine rule—he is the First Arm of the Architect.”
“Aegism,” Mórag murmurs, her tone neutral. “So that’s why you’ve taken such an interest in Rex.”
Fan la Norne’s gaze shifts to me, unwavering. “As the Driver of not one, but two Aegises… your claim to the title of Praetor rivals, if not exceeds, that of Amalthus.”
I take a startled step back. “W–what!? No way. There’s no way I could be Praetor!”
Fan steps forward, voice calm but firm. “No one expects you to be—unless it’s your wish. But your bond with the Aegises… it carries weight. The people, and even the Praetor, wish to support your journey.”
Niall exhales, then meets my eyes again. “You can trust Lady Fan, Rex. I’ve worked with her many times. She speaks with sincerity.”
His words ease the weight in my chest, though the uncertainty still lingers.
“We were already planning to involve Indol in the effort against the Fallen Aegis of Light,” Mórag adds, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “This is no idle diversion. And besides…”
A rare smile curves her lips. “We’ll pass through Leftheria on the way. Perhaps we could rest awhile—at home.”
That single word shifts something inside me. Home.
“We could do it… at home,” I echo softly, a smile breaking through the tension.
“Ay,” Nia says, nudging me with a grin. “Been dying to see your hometown. You never shut up about that Auntie of yours.”
I nod, more confident now. “Alright. Let’s go. I’ll introduce you all to Auntie Corrine, Vess, Serp…”
Niall smiles warmly. “Then go to Leftheria, and take the rest you’ve earned. Afterward, travel to Indol. We’ll reconvene there.”
I bow my head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
[NIA]
“Rex, if you smile any wider, your face might fall off,” I tease, leaning back in my seat aboard the Indoline ship.
Across the table, Rex laughs, practically glowing. “Come on, Nia! It’s been over two years since I’ve been home. I deserve to be excited!”
Pyra, sitting beside me, offers a soft smile. “I must admit, I’m curious to meet this ‘Serp’ you’ve talked so much about. I wonder how Addam managed to reprogram him.”
With a small flutter of wings, Gramps slips out from Rex’s hood and lands on the table with a muffled thump. “He made Amalthus hand over the Omega Fetter.”
Pyra’s eyes widen slightly. “Of course... Amalthus would’ve had it, being Mythra’s Driver at the time.”
Rex tilts his head, brow furrowing. “Wait, what’s the Omega Fetter?”
“Ophion’s Control Core,” Pyra explains gently. “With it, you can override its programming. Addam must’ve used it to alter Ophion’s directive—to make him guard Fonsett and help the village thrive.”
“Indeed he did,” Gramps says proudly, placing his tiny hands on his hips with a knowing look.
Typhos, quiet until now, leans forward, his voice softer than usual. “What else do you know about Addam?”
Gramps pauses, his gaze distant for a heartbeat too long. “…I’ll tell you once we get there.”
We approach a small port nestled in the clouds, the sea mist curling softly around the hull of our ship. But before we can even dock, Rex vaults over the side and dives straight into the Cloud Sea.
“Rex?!” I call, startled—
But he’s already cutting through the clouds like a fish, moving faster than I’ve ever seen.
I can’t help laughing. “Rex! Are you that impatient!?”
He leaps onto land, dripping wet and grinning from ear to ear. He waves at us with both arms, practically vibrating with excitement.
“C’mon, guys! I wanna show you around!”
We finish docking and rush down the pier to meet him, trying to match his energy.
“Tora don’t think we ever see Rex-Rex so excited,” Tora says, waddling quickly behind us.
Mórag watches with a soft, almost wistful smile. “Perhaps… this is the true Rex. Free from worry. Free from burden.”
Rex leads us through the archipelago, moving with the ease of someone walking through a cherished memory. The path winds past houses with mossy roofs, humble farms, and cozy little shops. He waves to nearly everyone we pass, and they all wave back, their smiles just as wide.
“I must say,” Typhos murmurs, his eyes scanning the peaceful landscape, “it’s a lot more… developed than I expected. 500 years ago, the Leftherian Archipelago was practically uninhabited.”
“That would be thanks to Addam,” Gramps replies, his voice warm as he watches Rex from atop Pyra’s shoulder. “After he took the reins here, people flocked to Fonsett. He gave them purpose, safety… roots. That’s why it’s thriving now, even if it’s still small. He planted the seed, and Rex is walking through its garden.”
The weather is bright and sunny, the warmth radiating from the golden sand beneath our feet. The clouds gently lap at the edges of the jellyfish-like Titans that float just beneath the surface of the Cloud Sea, their translucent bodies glowing faintly in the light.
We come upon a slightly larger Titan, still small by comparison, with a long, bridge-like tentacle stretching out from where we stand to the next.
Without hesitation, Rex bolts forward down the tentacle, his steps sending little puffs of sand into the air as he leads the way.
At the end of the bridge lies a quiet town, its quaint houses scattered like seashells across the terrain. Everything here feels lived-in, peaceful, like the world took a breath and decided to rest.
At the heart of the village stands an enormous statue, dominating the plaza.
Before we can reach the statue, the Cloud Sea erupts in a surge of mist and foam. A massive, serpentine figure rises from the waves, its long, metallic body gleaming with violet hues under the summer sun. The creature moves with an eerie grace, coils unfurling in slow, deliberate motions. Perched atop its neck is a humanoid form, sleek and still, its voice echoing with flat precision.
“Master Rex. It has been 872 days since your last visit.”
The voice is calm, mechanical. “It is a pleasure to see you unharmed.”
Rex’s face lights up. “Serp! It’s been a while!”
I instinctively take a step back, the sheer scale of the thing sinking in. “Haha… yeah, I can definitely tell this one’s an Artifice.”
Serp turns its head slightly, regarding us with glowing, analytical eyes. After a brief pause, it looks back to Rex. “Are these your companions? Do you wish to grant them access to the village?”
Rex nods without hesitation. “Of course. Please protect and treat them as you would me.”
“Understood.”
Serp swivels toward us, its gaze settling on Mórag first. “Please state your name and occupation, so that you may be granted future clearance.”
Mórag responds with calm professionalism. “Mórag Ladair. Special Inquisitor of the Empire of Mor Ardain. I travel with Rex to aid in his training and ensure his safety.”
“Biological data indicates: humanity,” Serp replies with a soft, almost purring sound.
I feel my heart skip. Something about the way it said that…
Serp's attention moves to Brighid, his analytical stare seeming to bore into her.
"Biological Data indicates Bladehood. State name and bonded Driver."
Brighid curtsies, "Brighid. I am bonded to Mórag, and I am here for the same purpose as she."
Serp moves on, taking each name and role in turn, as well as the number of Blades bonded to each of us. Then it reaches me, last in line.
“State name and occupation.”
“J-just Nia,” I stammer. “I don’t really have a job or anything—I travel with Rex to help him reach Elysium. I’m bonded to Dromarch and Crossette.”
Serp pauses. For a moment, it’s completely silent. Then, with a faint shift in tone, more curious than flat, it speaks.
“Biological data indicates: humanity.”
The words don’t sound right. Not like before. There’s a glitch in the cadence. A… hesitation.
“Enjoy your time in Fonsett,” it adds, returning to monotone.
I exhale slowly, though my chest still feels tight. That reaction… It noticed something. Something it didn’t understand.
But before I can dwell on it, Rex is already guiding us forward, his excitement reigniting as he leads us into the village proper. At its center stands the statue he spoke of—a towering monument of a man wielding two swords. One is a massive blade with a circular handguard raised high above his head; the other, smaller, rests at his side.
I blink, startled. The smaller sword… it’s identical to Typhos’ weapon.
“It’s Addam,” I whisper. “This must be the statue Rex mentioned.”
Rex spins around, still grinning. “Yup! They built it as a memorial after he passed. To thank him for everything.”
Typhos steps toward the statue slowly, his expression softening. His eyes shimmer—not with light, but memory.
“They truly got his likeness…” he murmurs. “Whoever made this knew him well.”
He places one hand on the statue’s base, reverent and careful.
A new voice calls out from behind us, warm and rich with familiarity. “I’m told it was his sons who carved it.”
We turn to see a short, sturdy woman approaching. Her skin is dark and sun-weathered, her frame strong beneath the long, flowing dress she wears. Her arms, surprisingly muscular, are uncovered, and her silver hair is adorned with a delicate golden laurel. She carries herself like someone who’s seen everything—and met it all with grace.
At her side stands a tall, ethereal woman with hair so pale it’s nearly white. Her sleek bodysuit fits her like a second skin, and soft azure rings float around her neck, wrists, and ankles, pulsing gently with energy.
“Auntie Corrine!” Rex calls out, breaking into a run as he throws his arms around the older woman. She catches him without hesitation, holding him tight against her.
“It’s been far too long, Rex,” Corrine says, her voice cracking with emotion.
When they finally part, she turns her gaze to the rest of us, her expression softening into a warm, welcoming smile.
“So, these must be the friends you mentioned in your letters.” She places a hand over her chest. “I’m Corrine, Chief of Fonsett Village.” With a graceful gesture, she motions to the elegant woman at her side. “And this is my Blade, Vess. We don’t see much action these days, but she’s my attendant and dear friend.”
Vess offers a polite bow, her voice serene. “It is a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you for looking after our Rex.”
Rex beams up at Corrine. “Auntie, do you think we could stay a few days?”
Corrine steps back with a playful huff, placing her hands on her hips. “Would I mind? Rex, what’s mine has always been yours. You never even need to ask.”
Vess takes a step toward one of the larger houses, her smile kind and steady. “Come, then. I’ll prepare something to eat.”
Rex beams at us. "You guys have got to try Vess' dumplings!" He says while dashing after her with the enthusiasm of a child chasing his favorite treat.
Corvin watches him go with a soft chuckle. “You know,” he says, “I think I’m starting to understand Rex’s tendency to bring in strays.”
Vandham exhales, “Though, it’s nice to see the kid acting like, you know, a kid?”
Notes:
I love them your honor.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to hint at Vandham x Corrine lmfao.
idk, I'm having fun. Whaddya think?
Chapter 43: On Shattered Wings
Summary:
Ophion tells Nia a story.
Notes:
An incredibly short chapter, I hesitate to even call it one. But I've had this idea for a long time, and I feel like it deserved it's own spotlight.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
As I move to follow Rex, a mechanical voice calls out behind me.
“Lady Nia. Might I request a private audience with you?”
I stop mid-step and turn. Head peeking over the wall near the edge of the Titan, Ophion, Serp, gazes out over the Cloud Sea, his violet armor glinting under the summer sun.
“M-me?” I ask, instinctively stepping back. “What could you possibly want with me?”
Crossette gives me a worried look but places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Rex told him to protect you. I don’t think he’d go against that. He probably just has… questions.”
Reluctantly, I follow Ophion along a narrow path that skirts the Titan’s edge, leading down to a small, secluded beach. The sound of the clouds crashing gently against the sand is the only noise for a while.
“So… what did you need, Serp?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. The anxiety curls in my chest like a fist.
“I offer apologies, honored guest of Lord Rex,” Ophion replies, his voice unnervingly calm.
From the humanoid figure on his back, a red spotlight activates, sweeping across the sand until it centers on me. It widens—bright, hot, and suffocating.
“But unless you explain why you have chosen to deceive him…” his tone sharpens, electronic and cold, “then I must do what is necessary to protect him.”
[REX]
I follow Auntie Corrine back toward the house, the warmth of the sun barely keeping pace with the warmth in my chest. Typhos walks beside me, a quiet smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You okay, Typhos?” I ask, glancing from his expression to the gleam of his Core Crystal. I can’t stop remembering how he—Endbringer—flaunted it during our last encounter.
Typhos exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his head. “Better than I was, that’s for sure. Delta’s still mad at me, though…”
I tilt my head. “Yeah, I noticed she wasn’t flying around with her Mini-Serp. She’d probably love Fonsett.”
His gaze drops to the ground, shoulders heavy. “I wish I hadn’t had to awaken him. If there’d been any other way…”
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s in the past now. Maybe Endbringer’ll come in handy, y’know, even if he’s a bit of a… well, loose cannon.”
Corvin jogs up to us, Durandal clanking softly against his back as he moves. “So, this is where my Core came from, huh?” He looks around with wide eyes, his cape catching the breeze. “It’s so pretty. I wish I remembered my life here.”
“Such is the fate of Blades, I’m afraid,” Gramps chimes in from his perch on my shoulder. “Though I must say, the sand does rather match your hair.”
Corvin smirks, brushing his white-gold locks back with a theatrical flourish. “Well, a guy’s gotta reflect his hometown somehow, right?
Auntie Corrine takes a look behind her, centering on Corvin. “Ah, so that’s one of the Blades you awakened from the Cores I sent you?”
I nod. “Thanks for that. Corvin’s been a big help.”
Corvin jabs me in the stomach with his elbow, chuckling. “And a great personality, I’m sure.”
[NIA]
I look up at the serpent, its red light still locked onto me, unwavering and unblinking. It washes over me like a spotlight, harsh and inescapable.
“I–I…” I falter, voice catching in my throat. “I’m not lying to Rex. I just… I haven’t had the heart to tell him. Not yet.”
Ophion doesn’t respond, its attention fixed, unreadable. The beam remains steady, like judgment incarnate.
“I know it doesn’t make sense to you,” I say, fists clenched at my sides. “But people like me… we’re shunned. Hunted. I spent years running, hiding who I am. Then I found them—him. A home with Rex. A place where I could belong.”
My voice shakes. “If I told him… I was scared he wouldn’t want me around anymore.”
Ophion tilts his head slightly, the frills around his neck twitching—some form of curiosity, maybe. “Why is your kind so reviled?”
I swallow hard. My mouth goes dry. But I force the words out.
“In truth… I’m a Blade. But not like the others. I was… altered. Forced to consume human flesh to survive, to keep living without a Driver. It turned me into something else. Something unnatural.”
The words feel like poison, but I say them anyway.
“People don’t care that I didn’t choose this. All they see when they look at the Core in my chest is a monster.” I breathe in sharply, steeling myself. “A Flesh Eater.”
The light from Ophion dims, then fades entirely. His massive head lowers until it hovers just in front of me, the weight of his gaze no longer mechanical, but almost… gentle.
“And why do you believe that Rex would be one of these people, the type who would cast you aside?”
“I… I don’t. Not really,” I breathe, my voice shaky. “It’s a human emotion, one that’s not always logical. I know Rex wouldn’t turn me away. That’s not who he is, but…”
“You fear the possibility, regardless of fact,” Ophion finishes for me, his voice softer than I ever expected—almost human.
I nod.
“Allow me to tell you a story,” he says, the warmth in his tone catching me off guard. “Less than a year after Rex’s mother passed, after I delivered him to Lady Corrine’s doorstep, Rex decided he wanted to become a salvager.”
I nod quietly, letting him continue.
“Given how the Cloud Sea does not hinder my senses the way it does for humans, I became the natural choice to oversee his early training. I could not assist with the salvaging itself…” his voice hums thoughtfully, “…but I could at least ensure his safety.”
“So you spent a lot of time with Rex, then?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“One day, he surfaced on a small Titan—not far from home,” Ophion says. “On that island, he found an elderly Flamii. Its wing was broken. It could no longer fly.”
He pauses, his tone taking on a distant fondness. “Rex begged me to help him. He asked that I carry both him and the Flamii back to Vess, so it could be healed.”
“That’s just like him…” I murmur, smiling softly.
“This confused me,” Ophion admits. “The Flamii offered no benefit. It was merely a burden. One more mouth to feed. I voiced this concern, and do you know what Rex said?”
I shake my head.
There’s a brief crackle of static, and then a recording plays—tinny and high-pitched, yet unmistakably Rex in his younger years:
“Is that what you thought of me when you took me to Auntie Corrine? How is this Flamii any different from me? Why shouldn’t it be saved?”
The recording ends with a faint pop. Silence lingers a moment before Ophion continues.
“I obeyed Rex’s wishes and carried them both home. Vess healed the creature. It lived six months.” He pauses. “In that time, it knew comfort and care. Love, even. A depth of compassion I thought impossible for something so often called a ‘monster’.”
I blink, breath caught in my throat.
“When it passed, Rex was devastated. He built it a small headstone… and buried it beside his mother, in the village graveyard.”
"Rex..." I whisper.
Ophion’s voice returns, low and steady.
“Allow me to pose the question once more: Is Rex—the boy who could not abandon a broken, elderly Flamii, the type to leave someone he cares for behind? To cast aside someone he loves ?”
I wipe a tear from my eye, trying to steady my breath. “I must say, for a machine, you’re awfully wise when it comes to human emotions.”
Ophion pauses, just long enough for it to feel meaningful, before replying, his tone softer than before.
“I learned from the best.”
Notes:
Okayyy, thoughts on this chapter?
Moving on: After getting a comment on the last chapter, I've been thinking...
Would you guys want a sequel series to this? Whether it be Pre or Post XC3(You could argue that they are the same thing, really) I've been thinking on writing a series centered around the version of Mio born of THIS Rex and Nia.
I've had the headcanon that the reason why the Aegises don't die, like, ever is because the world will always find a way to rebuild them. This is why the Aegis girls were able to reboot themselves into Pneuma in the base game, and why Mythra was able to revive in this series. And why you can argue that Malos still lives in Xc3. The world of Alrest, Bionis/Mechonis, and Aionios cannot exist without the trinity, so when one is destroyed, the world will rebuild them.
SO, say, after Rex and Co. defeat Mythra, and settle down....
What if Mio came across an Emerald Core Crystal when playing one day?
of course, this would be a next-generation situation, so there would be kids of each of the main cast.
The aegis bros would be separated into their own bodies. (Ty, Ma, EB), and possibly have partners of their own, sooo....
this is my question:
Is this even something you'd be interested in? Would you want more from me after UABA is over?
And if so, then who are some romantic pairings you'd like to see? Obviously, I'd likely maintain the obvious Zeke/Pandy and Morag/Brighid, but what about the non-canon pairings? Gimme some out of the blue pairings. Corvin x Pyra type shenanigans. LMK!
Obviously, UABA is still far from over. We're probably only about halfway through, but as the story progresses, if you find something that you'd want to see in a sequel, let me know!
Chapter 44: BRINGER OF.... Dumplings?
Summary:
Zeke brings Chaos, and Vess brings Dumplings
Notes:
Another shorter chapter, but I feel like these are best off contained to themselves.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
After a restful night’s sleep, we all gather in the living room of Auntie Corrine’s house.
“I don’t know how Vess does it,” Mórag says, genuine awe in her voice. “But her dumplings rival anything the finest chefs in the Empire could dream of.”
We sit around the table as warm sunlight filters in through the windows. Vess stands over us with a radiant smile, practically glowing with pride.
“So simple, yet so exquisite…” Dromarch purrs from the floor, his fluffy face buried in a bowl.
Suddenly, a loud, insistent knocking rattles the front door.
I rise, already feeling suspicious. When I open it, I’m greeted by the grinning face of a familiar idiot in an eyepatch.
“Aha! I’ve finally found you, Driver of the Ae—”
I slam the door shut with a sigh.
“Auntie Corrine, call Serp.”
She giggles behind me. “On it, dear.”
From the other side, the voice grows frantic.
“Wait—please don’t do that! It took me all night to sneak past its attention…!”
“Ay, is that shellhead?” Nia asks from the table, a dumpling in hand and a smirk on her face.
“Yes! Yes, it is!” comes the muffled reply through the door. “Just let me in! I swear, I only want to talk!”
I crack the door open, Corvin leaning in beside me.
“Zeke, I swear—if you cause even a whisper of chaos in my aunt’s house, I will have Mórag air every piece of your dirty laundry.”
Mórag smiles sweetly. “And I will do it with pleasure.”
“I’m willing to do it even if he behaves.” Brighid shrugs, utterly unbothered.
“Now I really want to know all the Zeke drama.” Pyra giggles. “I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”
“I told Vandham we should keep him,” Roc crows, preening their wings smugly.
“Last time Rex and I saw him, Mórag lore dumped about him so bad he ran away in shame.” Corvin giggles at Pyra.
“Okay! Fine! I promise— not a smidgen of chaos!” Zeke pleads, hands raised in surrender.
Vandham shrugs, arms crossed. “I dunno. Kinda hard to ‘keep’ a grown man.”
Roc gives him a flat look. “Sounds like quitter talk to me.”
I sigh and open the door, stepping aside to let Zeke and Pandoria in.
“Welcome to our humble dumpling sanctuary,” I mutter dryly.
Brighid gives a lazy wave. “Pandy, come sit. Vess makes the best dumplings you’ll ever taste.”
Pandoria beams. “Oooh, don’t mind if I do!” She floats over with excitement.
Zeke lingers by the door, eyes hopeful. “Can… can I have some too?”
“No,” we all say in unison.
Auntie Corrine eventually gives in and passes Zeke a plate of dumplings, Vess not far behind with an extra helping. He digs in with a satisfied grin, and soon we’re all lounging around the room—spread out, but connected.
“So,” I start, fixing him with a look, “I hear you caused Nia, Typhos, and Vandham a fair bit of trouble in Mor Ardain.”
Pandoria giggles from her spot beside him. “‘Trouble’ might be a bit strong.”
“He tried to,” Typhos says, arms crossed. “Didn’t quite succeed.”
Zeke lets out a slow sigh. “Well, in truth, capturing the Aegis was never the point.”
“You’re on a mission from your father, aren’t you?” Mórag asks, calm as ever, sipping her tea.
Zeke nods. “Yeah. He told me to test your strength—and if you ‘met my expectations,’ to invite you to Tantal.” He shrugs. “Not sure why he bothered asking me, though. I’m not exactly known for following orders.”
“But your father’s the king, right?” I say, furrowing my brow. “If you’re the heir, shouldn’t that kind of be your job?”
Mórag clears her throat gently. “Zeke is… not the heir. Not anymore.”
Zeke's smile falters just a bit. “Did something my old man didn’t like. Got myself disinherited. I’ll explain it all some other time.”
I fold my arms. “Then it’s even weirder. Why ask you to test us if he’s already cut you off?”
He shrugs again, more thoughtful this time. “Beats me. That’s why I listened, honestly. Figured if it was important enough for him to ask me, then something serious must be going on.”
“Another thing,” I say, eyeing Zeke. “Why did you need to test our strength? Surely the title of ‘Aegis’ carries enough weight on its own.”
Zeke hesitates, then shakes his head. “Wasn’t about the Aegis. Or your team. It was about you.”
Mórag sets down her teacup with a quiet sigh. “You recall how I mentioned the close relationship between Mor Ardain and Tantal?”
I nod.
“That’s because, in their earliest days, Tantal followed our lead in matters of governance. Their founder, Zettar, Addam’s uncle and former prince of Torna, established a set of laws that still govern their monarchy today.”
“Okay…” I blink. “And that has what, exactly, to do with me?”
“One of Zettar’s conditions,” Mórag continues, “was that both the King and Queen must be not only competent rulers, but capable Drivers. Strong ones. It became tradition that the ruling pair must bond with two specific Blades, revered as symbols of the royal line.”
Pandoria leans in, whispering to me, “Though, this is only because apparently, King Zettar wanted to feel superior to Chief Addam of Fonsett.”
Zeke exhales, continuing, having not heard Pandoria. “The ‘Crown Jewels of Tantal.’ A Blade named Zenobia is to be bonded to the King…” He pauses, glancing sideways at Pandoria. “And Pandoria is to be bonded to the Queen.”
He sucks in a breath, fist tightening in his lap. “When my mom died, Pandoria returned to her Core Crystal, like Blades do.” His voice wavers. “And when that happened, my father was ready to pass her on to whatever noblewoman or concubine he deemed fit to marry next.”
I feel the weight of it hit me. “Oh. So… that’s why you were disinherited.”
Zeke nods once, slowly. “I stole her back. Took off. Figured I’d rather be a wanderer than let Mom’s Blade get handed off like some royal heirloom.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Anyway,” he says, shaking it off. “Tantal puts a lot of emphasis on strength. Tradition. And titles.” He glances at me. “That’s why my dad wanted me to test you. To see if you were really worthy of being brought into our kingdom’s orbit.”
Notes:
Any thoughts, ideas, or concepts for a sequel? I'm all ears!
Chapter 45: Find Me.
Summary:
Rex and Co. relax in Fonsett, and uncover a message left for them
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Wait a sec—something’s not adding up,” I say, brow furrowed. “When we first met, Mórag mentioned that your mothers were friends. But if your mother was Pandoria’s last Driver…”
My eyes drift toward Brighid and Pandoria, sitting together and whispering like old schoolmates at a reunion. “Why are they so close? Even if they knew each other before, wouldn’t Pandoria have forgotten everything when she returned to her Core?”
Mórag sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose like she’s already regretting where this conversation is going. “Niall was still quite young when Zeke was disinherited,” she mutters. “And he threw quite the tantrum when he found out Zeke wouldn’t be around anymore.”
Zeke chuckles, leaning back like he’s relishing the memory. “Kid really took a shine to me. Got all worked up and demanded his dad let me stay. Royal temper tantrum actually worked—go figure.” He looks back at Mórag, expression softening. “How’s ol’ Niall these days, anyway? Feels like forever.”
“He’s in good health,” Fan says gently, stepping in with her usual serene grace. “It’s only been a few days since we last saw him, in fact.”
“Indeed,” Mórag adds, though there’s a faint tension behind her words. “I do worry about being away for so long, but he always seems to be in excellent condition when we speak.”
I can’t help but laugh. “It’s hard picturing Emperor Niall throwing a tantrum. He’s always so composed.”
Mórag lets out a rare smile. “It is difficult to imagine now, but back then... Zeke was like a brother to him. As much family as I am.”
Zeke’s attention shifts to Fan. He squints, studying her face with a slight frown. “You know… you look familiar. Have we met?”
Fan bows her head slightly, calm as ever. “My name is Fan la Norne. I serve as Ambassador to Praetor Amalthus. I was tasked with guiding the Second Arm’s journey to Indol.”
Zeke snaps his fingers. “Ah, Indol! That’s it—I must’ve seen you at one of those summits my father dragged me to.”
Fan nods. “That would be my guess as well.”
Zeke tilts his head, thinking for a second. Then, with a grin: “Ay, Rex. If you're headed to Indol, mind if I tag along?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why would you want to do that?”
He shrugs, all casual bravado. “Well, if you're gonna end up in Tantal eventually, might as well stick with you till then. And hey, I know I didn’t exactly shine in our last run-in, but I’m no slouch in battle.”
I glance toward Mórag, skeptical. But to my surprise, she nods.
“On this, we agree. Zeke is quite the force in combat,” she says, then smirks, casting him a sideways look. “Even if his luck is... catastrophically bad.”
“Surely it can’t be that bad,” Corvin laughs. “I mean, we’ve seen our fair share of Zeke’s shenanigans, but it always seemed more like bad matchups than actual bad luck.”
“Oh, I could definitely attest to his luck,” Auntie Corrine giggles from her seat. “According to him, he spent all night dodging Addam’s Serpent around the village.”
Zeke sputters, hands flailing. “Well, I did! It was hot on my trail the whole time!”
Vess walks by, stacking up the lunch plates with a hum. “The Serpent was shut down last night. ‘Annual maintenance,’ according to the notice he gave me.”
“What!?” Zeke’s eyes go wide. “It was on my tail multiple times!”
Pandoria sighs softly. “My Prince… I thought that was your plan. We were moving in circles all night.” She tilts her head, blinking slowly. “I didn’t see the Serpent move even once.”
Nia cackles, nearly choking on her tea. “I think this says more about his intelligence than his luck.”
Vess suddenly perks up, setting the plates down in the kitchen. “Oh, darlings! The Serpent told me to let your group know he wants to speak with you. Something about Addam.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I nearly forgot.”
I glance at Typhos—his eyes snap wide open. In a blink, he’s on his feet.
“Let’s go, then.”
We gather on the beach near Fonsett, sunlight dancing on the Cloud Sea as Serp erupts from beneath the waves. His violet armor glints in the summer light, sleek and regal.
“Master Rex, Lady Nia, and friends. It is a pleasure to see you in good health,” he greets, his voice mechanical, yet undeniably gentle.
Nia crosses her arms, smirking. “It’s not like it’s been forever since we last saw each other.”
“Does the brevity of time diminish the joy of reunion?” Serp counters smoothly. “I did not believe so.”
I can’t help but smile. “Fair enough.”
Then Serp’s glowing eyes fix on Typhos. There’s a subtle hum as his posture shifts, more formal.
“Now that you have returned, Lord Typhos, I have a message to relay—one meant for you and your Driver, from former Chief Addam.”
Typhos steps forward, tension written in every line of his body. “From Addam? Seriously?”
A soft hum sounds from Ophion’s core. A green holographic light projects upward, coalescing into the image of a hooded man, blurred at the edges but unmistakably regal.
“Huh,” Vandham mutters, tilting his head. “Looks like somethin’ Corvin would conjure up.”
The simulacrum begins to speak. The voice is deep, steady, weathered, but resolute.
“Greetings, Typhos. And to his Driver. By the time this message reaches you, I will be long dead. Even as the Driver of an Aegis… time, it seems, remains undefeated.”
A pause, just long enough to let the weight settle, then the message continues.
“Though in every fiber of my being I hope that I am wrong… I feel it.
In my very soul, I sense Mythra’s return.”
His voice is steady, but there's a tremor of something deeper—grief, or perhaps fear held at bay.
“Though my battle is over, though these worn hands have no right to carry a Blade again… I could not stand idly by. If there is even a chance that history may repeat… I must prepare my successor.”
The hologram flickers gently, casting strange light across the sand and sea.
“In my time here, I oversaw the construction of a hidden labyrinth—a sprawling cavern meant to guide the Driver of the Aegis through times of uncertainty. Should you ever find yourself lost… or in need of strength yet untapped… you will find it there.”
As the flickering worsens, the projection resolves just enough to reveal a faint, familiar smile beneath the hood.
“Beneath my feet lies the entrance to this place: the Spirit Crucible.
Conquer the trial within… and you may claim the title of True Driver of the Aegis.”
The hologram begins to collapse in bursts of static, but his final words ring out, crystal clear.
“Muster your courage. Trust in the path that has brought you here.
Draw the Dual Swords from their stone, and…”
He inhales, his eyes glowing bright, even beneath the veil of his hood.
“Find me.”
Notes:
Mwahaha, you thought we were going to Indol!!!?? Neverrrrr, screw you amalthus.
Praetor!? I hardly know 'er!
All jokes aside, I'm super excited for this. I'm sorry for all the short chapters recently. I haven't had a ton of time to write, AND I keep wanting the dramatic chapter cliffhangers. More to come, I promise!
Actually, I should ask:
Would you guys prefer that I continue these shorter, more frequent chapters? Or should I wait longer between posting and just post long chapters?
I’ll do whichever the common consensus is. As much as I like posting what I write immediately, if it makes it less enjoyable, I’ll stop. LMK!
Chapter 46: By Your Hand
Summary:
The group unlocks and delves into the depths of Elpys, witnessing the past held within.
Notes:
Here it is! By far my favorite chapter that I have ever written, I am super proud of how it turned out. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The emerald projection fades, Addam’s voice lingering in the air like the whisper of a memory. We stand in silence, the weight of his words settling over us like mist.
Vandham breaks the quiet with a scratch to his head and a chuckle. “Aha, I hope one of you folks got all that, ‘cause it went clean over my head.”
Mórag exhales, folding her arms. “It seems the Hero-Prince left behind a trial for Rex. Though, it sounded as much a riddle as a challenge.”
“‘Beneath my feet lies the entrance…’” Typhos recites softly, eyes narrowed in thought. “The only place that could mean is the statue, right?”
I nod. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.” I glance over my shoulder at the Titan nestled in my hood. “Gramps, you know anything about this ‘Spirit Crucible’ place?”
Gramps hums thoughtfully before replying, “Yes. Addam spent much of his later years planning and overseeing its construction. It was no small task.”
Crossette slumps forward with a dramatic sigh. “Surely we can rest one more night before diving into another death trap?”
Mórag turns to me, her gaze calm and measured. “I’d understand if you wished to begin the trial immediately, Rex. But one more night of rest wouldn’t hurt.” Her eyes move across the group, quietly assessing. “We’re better off than when we left Mor Ardain, but we’re still recovering. A bit more rest will serve us well.”
I nod, glancing out at the sea. “No complaints here. If you all want to take the night, I won’t argue. We’ll be ready come morning.”
Crossette lets out a long sigh of relief, slumping dramatically into the sand. “Finally, someone with sense.”
Zeke stretches, arms behind his head. “I mean, if it’s some great ancient trial to determine whether you’re worthy of a legendary title, I’d prefer to face it after a full night’s sleep and a real breakfast.”
“You just want more dumplings,” Pandoria teases, elbowing him lightly.
“...And what if I do?” Zeke replies with mock defiance. “Can’t conquer ancient ruins on an empty stomach.”
Vandham grins. “He’s got a point. Ain’t nothing worse than swinging a blade with your gut growling louder than your enemies.”
Nia chuckles. “Alright, alright—looks like it’s unanimous. One more night won’t kill us.”
Brighid crosses her arms, but her expression softens. “We’ll want to be at our best. Whatever awaits us in that place… it won’t be ordinary.”
“Addam wouldn’t have made it easy,” Fan adds, her tone even. “But he clearly believed this path was necessary. That alone speaks volumes.” Her voice peters off, her expression tensing. “A trial from the Original Second Arm… an experience a believer could only dream of.”
Typhos remains quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the statue that looms just beyond the hill. “He said… ‘Find me.’” He plays with his long hair absentmindedly. “Whatever lies within that Crucible… It’s not just a test. It’s something more.”
I nod slowly, feeling the weight in my chest—not dread, but anticipation. A pull forward.
“Well,” I say, smiling faintly. “Let’s get some rest, then. Tomorrow, we step into Addam’s legacy.”
“So, you still keep that journal of yours, dear?” Auntie Corrine asks, settling across from me at the kitchen table.
Around us, my friends lie scattered through the house in various states of rest. Nia sleeps soundly in the corner, curled up between Crossette and Dromarch. Brighid and Mórag sit nearby, their voices low as they draft a letter to His Majesty, concern etched across their faces. At the far end of the room, Vess sits with Fan, Pyra, and Typhos, guiding them through “Vess Style” dumpling wrapping. Their hands are messy with dough, gentle laughter echoing from them.
I glance up from my journal, pen still in hand. “Yeah… With everything going on, it helps. Just gives me space to sort it all out.” My eyes drop to the page again, my handwriting weaving through the paper like an unspooled thread. “And lately… I’ve had more reason to.”
Auntie Corrine’s expression shifts. Her brow tightens, concern gathering in her features. “And why’s that?” Her voice is soft—until realization strikes, widening her eyes. “Unless… did you—?”
I shake my head, a little too fast. “No.” The word trips out of me. I hesitate, fumbling as I try to force the next part past the knot in my throat. “At least… not me. Nia, Typhos, and Vandham said they saw someone. Someone who reminded them of…” The name catches like glass in my chest. “You know.”
Auntie Corrine reaches across the table, her hand warm as it closes around mine. “Love, what are you afraid of?” Her voice is quiet, steady, but I feel the tremor of worry behind it.
“They fought him,” I whisper. “He… almost really hurt them. He drove Typhos to awaken something… something we were afraid of. Endbringer.” I look to Typhos, where he smiles gently with Vess, but all I see is the Amethyst Core in his chest, the way it shimmers, the way it shimmered the same way in Endbringer’s abyssal armor.
She doesn’t speak, only tightens her grip on my hand.
“Endbringer forced him into a corner, completely overwhelmed him. He ran away in the end, said if he died, then… then “he” wouldn’t have a chance.”
“You’re afraid,” Auntie Corrine says softly, “that if he is the one you’ve been waiting for… he’s changed. That he’s not the person you remember.”
I try to shake my head, but the motion falters halfway through. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of,” I admit. “Maybe it is that. Or maybe…” My eyes drift back to the journal, the ink trailing off in a page full of questions. “Maybe I’m afraid that I’ve changed too much. That even if he came back… we wouldn’t recognize each other anymore.”
Auntie Corrine rubs my arm, attempting to calm me. “We’ll never know, at least until the day comes when you two meet again. In the meantime…” She nods to Nia, where she snores gently on the floor, lying alongside Crossette on Dromarch. “Why don’t you follow her example and get some rest?”
I nod, my doubt still ringing in my chest. “Yeah, that’d be for the best.”
The next morning, we gather before the statue at the heart of the village. Addam’s towering form looms above us, marble eyes cast forward, the massive, ring-hilted sword still raised to the sky. Even after five hundred years, the stone remains untouched by time.
“So, how’re we supposed to move this thing?” Nia asks, hands on her hips. “Doesn’t seem like bustin’ it down is the smart move.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” I say, crouching to inspect the base.
The pedestal’s surface is flawless, smooth marble polished by neither wind nor rain. At each cardinal direction, I spot small recesses: one a shallow dip, the others thin rectangular slots, just wide enough to fit a playing card.
“If I had to guess, these slots are the key,” I mutter, circling the statue. My fingers trail over the indent at the rear, shaped differently than the rest. “This one’s… off.”
Zeke kneels beside me, squinting. “You’re right. The design’s too deliberate. Like it’s waiting for something.”
Nearby, Mórag examines a slot to the right, Brighid at her side. Her brow furrows in concentration. Then, a flash of realization. She draws one of her blades, turning it in her hand and fitting the tip into the slot.
“It’s close,” she says, withdrawing it. “But not quite right.” She turns her gaze. “Corvin. Try yours.”
Corvin approaches and calls Halteclere to hand. He mimics Mórag’s motion, and the blade slides smoothly into place with a soft clunk. Ether flares up the sword, running like liquid gold into the statue.
With a sudden whoosh, Addam’s eyes blaze to life, twin beacons of amber light.
I take a step back, blinking. “Should’ve known Mórag would be the one to figure it out.”
She doesn’t look away from the statue. “And yet, the entrance remains closed.”
Gramps clears his throat behind me. “Tell me, Rex—who are the Blades bound to this village?”
I glance toward the base, where Halteclere still stands embedded in marble. “Well… besides Vess? There’s Corvin, Crossette…” I pause. “And Typhos.”
Crossette steps up beside me, cradling her Bitball. She presses it into the shallow dip, and a rush of Fire Ether streams from it into the statue. The flow races along its arm, lighting up the raised sword with glowing red veins. A roar of flame bursts from the blade’s edge, forming an extended Ether edge that crackles with heat.
Then Typhos moves forward, drawing his sword. He slots it into the frontmost indentation. Immediately, Water Ether surges upward, tinged with Amethyst light. It winds around both of Addam’s blades, the Core Crystals embedded in their hilts flickering awake. The water gathers at the base of Typhos’ blade, flowing into the long form I know all too well.
Fan clutches her crosier to her chest, her voice hushed with awe. “Magnificent… I never imagined even the Original Second Arm could create something of this scale.”
“There’s one more slot,” Nia notes, stepping closer. “Oi, Corvin, what about that other sword? The one you don’t let Rex borrow?”
Corvin tilts his head. “Durandal? Worth a shot.” He draws the gleaming white blade from its scabbard.
He shifts his stance, planting the blade into the final slot. It locks with a satisfying click, and a beam of pure white Ether launches skyward. The ringed hilt of Addam’s right-hand sword glows brilliantly, an unknown symbol flaring to life at its center.
The ground beneath us begins to tremble. The statue groans.
With the sound of stone grinding against stone as its indicator, the statue begins to grind backward, a polished marble staircase becoming visible beneath the great stone pedestal.
" Well done, inheritor of my legacy. "
The voice booms from the statue, deep and resonant, as if the stone itself had drawn breath. Addam’s glowing amber eyes seem to track our every movement.
" Beneath my feet lies a place where even Ether dares not gather freely. Steel your resolve. Ready your Blades. Prove your worth as His Driver. Find me, and more importantly… "
The voice falters, a beat of silence cutting through the air. Then it returns, steadier, stronger.
" Surpass me. "
The statue’s armaments still glow, untouched by time or the absence of the blades that awakened them. Even after we withdraw our weapons from the pedestal, the Ether-infused light remains, a silent promise of what lies ahead.
Zeke peers down the yawning stairwell that disappears into the earth, dark, steep, and seemingly endless. “Gotta hand it to Addam,” he mutters. “Guy knew how to make an entrance feel like a threat.” He glances back at me, one brow raised. “You sure you’re up for this, kid?”
I nod, my voice steady. “I have to be. We’ll need every advantage we can get… even if it means walking through the underworld and back.” I pause, eyes drifting across Zeke, Pandoria, then Fan. “But if anyone should hesitate, it’s you three. You’re not bound to this like I and Typhos are, don’t feel obligated.” I turn to the rest of my allies, concern etched into my chest. “ You guys as well. Stay behind if you’d rather. Auntie Corrine and Vess will look after you until we return.”
Fan shakes her head, eyes bright with conviction. “And miss the wisdom of the Original Second Arm? Perish the thought.”
Zeke grins, hooking a thumb toward her. “She’s a little too eager, but me? I’m not going anywhere. Someone’s gotta keep you alive down there.”
Pandoria nods, her smile soft and sure.
Mórag folds her arms, surveying the group with calm authority. “As for the rest of us…” She looks around, taking in every familiar face. “We’ve come this far with you. Don’t think you can leave us behind now.”
A quiet laugh escapes me. “Fair enough.”
I turn toward the stairs, the first marble step gleaming faintly in the light of the statue’s burning blades.
“Well then,” I say, placing my foot forward into the dark, “let’s find him, as he put it.”
We descend the stairs, our footsteps echoing beneath the shallow, rocky ceiling.
“I’ve been wonderin’,” Vandham says, his hearty voice filling the narrow passage. “Why Corvin and Crossette? I get why Typhos was needed, but the other two?”
“Auntie Corrine’s letter said their Core Crystals date back to Addam’s time,” I answer, walking ahead of the group. “So… maybe they were involved in building the Spirit Crucible. That’s just my guess, though.”
Our discussions stop as we hear the sound of grinding stone, as we heard before. Our gazes turn behind us, only to see the statue’s base move over the entrance, trapping us inside.
Zeke sighs, “I suppose that there’s no return now.”
We continue down the staircase until we reach an opening, and the stairs drop us into an open, yet small, tunnel-like cavern.
I step inside the cavern and go to lead deeper within, but I stop mid-step, a thought striking me. “Wait… Gramps. You were the one who first pointed us toward Typhos and Crossette.” My voice drops, but the tunnel still carries it forward. “Just how much do you know about Addam—and this place? What aren’t you telling us?”
Behind me, Typhos clears his throat. “There’s something that’s been bothering me, too,” he says, voice firm. He glances toward Corvin, whose pale hair seems to glow faintly in the dim. “Back in Garfont, you put on a play for the kids. The villain looked exactly like Ophion. Or ‘Serp,’ as we know him.”
He narrows his eyes. “You remember that, don’t you? So tell me, Corvin, how much do you actually remember from before you returned to your Core?”
[?]
I approach the village, heart pounding so loud I half expect it to give me away. Each step stirs the sand beneath my boots, its soft crunch the only sound that follows me, save for my sword, and the thoughts I can’t shake.
The Leftherian Archipelago hasn’t changed. Not in seven years. Every shape of the coastline, every scent on the breeze—it’s all the same. Unchanged, while I... I did everything I could to stay away. The memories were too heavy. Too real. Too alive.
The sandy bridge stretches ahead, a narrow path back to a place I once knew. I take it slowly. One step. Then another.
To my right, the Cloud Sea stirs. It churns with a sudden gust, parting like curtains drawn open. From within the mist, Addam’s Serpent emerges—colossal, ancient, and watching.
Its mechanical eyes focus on me, unblinking. Then, a familiar voice resonates across the waves, cold and warm at once.
“Hello, Lord Regis. It has been 2,673 days since your last visit.”
There’s a pause. A hum of static, like a breath before memory.
“After what happened to your village,” it says, quieter now, almost gentle, “it is a true pleasure to see you in good health.”
[REX]
“Well…” Gramps hesitates, his voice unusually low. “I made a promise that the secret of the Spirit Crucible Elpys would never leave the village—at least, not until the next Driver of the Aegis awakened. But when I learned you were the one meant to inherit that power… I faltered.”
Corvin rubs the back of his neck, suddenly seeming much smaller under the weight of our stares. “It’s not like I remember everything,” he murmurs. “Just… flashes. Pieces.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but Gramps raises a paw, stopping him gently.
“I suppose it’s time,” he says. “Time I told you everything. About the Crucible. About Addam… About Corvin and Crossette.”
[ADDAM] — 500 Years Ago, After the Light Aegis Fell
“My love, I understand your hesitance,” Selene says, her dark eyes searching mine. “But the people need guidance.”
She lifts a hand to my cheek, soft, steady, certain.
“I know ruling was never your desire. But they look to you, and you alone.”
I take her hand, my own trembling. “What if they’re wrong?” My voice is barely more than a whisper. “I couldn’t save Malos. I tried, Selene. He fell into shadow… and I let him.”
The words catch in my throat. Doubt coils tight around my chest.
“If I couldn’t guide even one Blade,” I murmur, “how am I supposed to lead a village?”
Selene sighs—firm, but not unkind. “Addam,” she says, folding her arms as she steps back, “you know exactly what Malos would say if he heard you right now.”
The morning sun catches in her obsidian hair as she tilts her head, eyes narrowed.
“He’d tell you to stop whining… and not to use him as an excuse.”
I can’t help the uneasy smile tugging at my lips. “I suppose he would.”
A soft knock draws our attention. Crossette leans into the doorway with a bright, gentle smile. “My lady, he’s awake from his nap.”
Selene turns to her with a softer expression. “Thank you, dear.”
Two small heads peek in behind her—one with sleek blond hair, the other with tousled brown hair and a pair of twitching catlike ears.
The feline child tugs lightly at the doorframe. “Mister Addam… can we say hello to the prince? Crossette says he’s awake.”
The blond child doesn’t speak, but nods with eager, shining eyes.
I can’t help but smile. “Milton, Mikhail… Prince, I may have been, but I’m afraid Altair won’t be inheriting any such title.”
Milton squints at me as he steps into the room beside Mikhail, his hands dramatically planted on his hips. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’ve told us a billion times. He’s still a Prince of Torna—even if Torna doesn’t exist anymore.”
Mikhail approaches more quietly, his voice small as he looks up at me. “Um… have you heard anything from Lora and Jin?”
I kneel to meet his gaze. “Ah… why don’t we go check on Altair instead?”
I rise, placing a hand gently on his shoulder before leading the way out of the room. The boys follow close behind, their footsteps light.
But the ache in my chest deepens as I glance back, catching sight of the blond child, trailing behind with quiet hope shining in his eyes.
How does one tell a child…
That he’s lost his parents for a second time?
[REX]
Typhos’ eyes widen, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Addam took care of Mikhail and Milton? That’s… that’s wonderful.”
We continue along the narrow path. Gramps falls quiet for a moment, letting the silence settle between his words. Pyra takes the lead, guiding us carefully through the dim corridor.
“I never met Addam,” she says, her voice low, eyes flicking cautiously around each corner, “but it feels like something he would do. Taking in children like that.”
Nia elbows me in the side, smirking. “Guess being a village chief comes with the job—rounding up strays and all.”
I laugh quietly, but it dies in my throat as we step into a vast, eerie chamber. The stone walls vanish into a pitch-black void. Massive bridges of ancient stone stretch across the emptiness, connecting what look like chasms straight into the underworld. The area is illuminated by shining, azure particles that float in the air.
We proceed carefully, our footsteps echoing.
Suddenly, Crossette stumbles. She drops to her hands and knees with a startled gasp.
I turn back and rush to her side. “Hey, you okay? Did you lose your footing?”
She takes my offered hand, her other pressing to her temple. “I think so… I just got really dizzy all of a sudden.”
Brighid steps forward, frowning. “You too? I thought it was just me. Something’s… off.”
Around us, the other Blades nod in agreement, murmuring similar complaints—vertigo, imbalance, something tugging at their senses.
I glance toward Pyra and Typhos. “What about you two? You feeling it too?”
They exchange a glance before turning back to me.
“No,” Typhos says, eyes narrowing as he scans the surroundings. “I’m fine.”
“As am I,” Pyra echoes, though her expression is growing more guarded by the second.
Poppi bounces in place, cheerful as ever. “Poppi is fine, too!”
I glance back at her, then forward again, thoughtful. “Addam mentioned something about Ether not flowing freely down here…” I hazard a guess. “Do Blades feel sick when there’s a lack of Ether?”
Roc gives a weary nod, wings drooping a little. Their usual shimmer has dimmed. “It’s like being trapped in a room with little air. Exhausting, and possibly fatal in prolonged exposures.”
“In the deepest caverns of the True Leftherian Titan,” Gramps adds, his voice echoing slightly, “there’s a rare kind of moss. It reproduces by releasing spores that consume ambient Ether to glow faintly.” He gestures to the tiny floating lights around us. “That’s what you’re seeing in the air now.”
Zeke lets out a low whistle. “Whew, No Ether to draw from, and something leeching whatever’s left? Now that’s a trial.”
Mórag shakes her head. “It makes sense. This trial was never meant for ordinary Blades. It’s meant for the Aegis and their Driver.” She glances toward Pyra and Typhos. “An awakened Aegis doesn’t rely on Ether the same way others do.”
Typhos and Pyra exchange a glance, then both look to me.
I adjust the weight of Typhos’ sword across my back and draw a breath, letting the resolve settle in my chest.
“Then let’s move,” I say, stepping forward into the shadows of Elpys.
[ADDAM]
The cuboid crystal glows faintly on the desk before me, its azure light pulsing in time with my thoughts—steady, measured, inevitable.
Selene approaches from behind, sliding her arms around me, her chin resting lightly on my shoulder. “Is that the Core you got from Amalthus?” she asks, peering at it curiously. “What did you call it again… an Omega Fetter?”
I exhale through my nose. “Yes. That’s it.”
I tap the crystal gently. A translucent screen shimmers into view, hovering in the air.
Selene startles, stepping back in surprise. “What is that?”
“Mythra will return. Whether tomorrow or a century from now, the world hasn’t seen the last of her.” I pause, letting the thought settle. “I don’t know if I’ll be there when it happens—or if I’ll have already fought my last.”
I glance at her, the soft blue light playing across her face. “But I do know this: the village must endure. Until Typhos is ready to reclaim his legacy… someone must keep it safe.”
I return my eyes to the Core, my voice low but resolute.
“I will buy him as much time as he needs.”
[REX]
The Blant slams into us, its whirling tentacles tearing through our defenses like a blade through silk.
The Affinity Links between natural Blades and their Drivers, those not supplied by an Aegis, are faint, flickering like dying embers.
“Healing Halo!” Nia cries, spinning her rings overhead. But the healing light from her palms barely flickers—enough to dull the pain, but not to mend the wounds.
We stand knee-deep in a poison swamp, its acidic sting kept at bay only by Typhos’ field of water, thinning the venom to a faint tingle on our skin.
Typhos stands behind me, the golden glow of our Link pulsing strong. “Who knew we’d find a Unique Monster this far down?” he mutters, eyes fixed on the hulking Blant blocking our path.
I steady my blades. “Tora! Can you grab its attention?”
“On it, Rex-Rex!” Tora barrels forward, Poppi QT at his side. He unleashes a volley of Ether pellets, the blasts scorching the Blant’s leafy frame.
It screeches and turns, retaliating with a blur of strikes, lashing at Tora’s small shape with vicious, fluid speed.
“Typhos! Corvin!” I shout, circling to flank it, Corvin following at my side, steps light but sure.
“Now, Corvin!” I toss Halteclere toward him—he catches it mid-spin, drawing it in one fluid motion.
With practiced grace, he carves a glowing square of light into the air. The shape bursts outward in a flash, slamming into the Blant and exploding in a blast of Ether. “ Fuga Daemonum!”
The creature staggers, howling. Ether streams from the wound, the radiant flow surging into us, mending gashes, refreshing strength.
“Now!” I call, both my steel sword and Typhos’ sword in hand.
We charge.
The Aegis Sword’s Energy-charged strikes tear through the Blant’s plantlike flesh like butter, each critical hit surging with energy that rushes through me, restoring my strength.
“Double Spinning Edge!” I shout, my body twisting into a whirlwind of blades. The typhoon slices into the creature, acid swirling in the air as both steel and poison carve deep into its body.
The Blant lets out one final screech before it collapses, dissolving into ash that hisses as it meets the steaming springs.
I drop to my knees, chest heaving, trusting the water around me to keep the acid at bay.
“Th-this place… is no joke…” I pant.
Zeke steps up beside me, offering a hand and hauling me to my feet. “You said it. These monsters are already out of our league—and that’s with Ether. If it weren’t for Corvin and Nia patching us up, Poppi holding the line, and those Aegises of yours…” He shakes his head. “We’d be toast.”
[CORRINE]
“Where did the kids run off to now?” Vess asks, her platinum hair rippling in the morning breeze.
I sigh, a weight pressing tight against my chest. “Addam’s Trial.” I try to keep my voice steady, but the unease slips through. “I thought I was ready when we sent them the Cores, but now…”
Vess tilts her head, concern softening her expression. “If anyone can handle it, it’s Rex.” Her voice carries a quiet tension, but there’s conviction beneath it. “If the stories are true, Chief Altair set those Cores aside for a reason.”
I step toward the window, pushing it open for a breath of fresh air. Outside, sunlight gleams against the statue of Addam—its eyes alight, twin swords blazing with Ether.
And then I see him.
A man stands before the statue, lean and tall. His silver-green armor catches the glow, winglike capes dancing in the breeze. His amber eyes are fixed on Addam, a quiet sorrow etched into every line of his face.
Every part of him feels familiar—yet undeniably strange.
The slope of his shoulders. The unkempt fall of his hair.
Like a memory blurred by time…
Or a glimpse into what could have been. What might still be.
Before I realize it, my feet are moving. I leave the house behind, drawn toward him.
He turns as I approach, his gaze settling on me, but the sorrow in his eyes doesn’t fade.
He looks like Rex.
Not as he is now, but perhaps ten years older…
And if he had lost everything that ever mattered.
A Rex without hope. Without rest.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his voice low—flat, but not unkind.
I offer a gentle smile, one hand over my heart.
“Would you join me for a meal?”
I pause, searching his expression.
“There’s someone I think you ought to meet.”
[ADDAM]
“In the name of opportunity,” I call out, raising my voice to meet the crowd’s expectant gaze, “I offer the people of Fonsett the right to choose our own future.”
Faces filled with hope and curiosity turn toward me, the weight of their trust heavy—yet strangely comforting.
“Every citizen will cast their vote for the one they believe should lead us. The position will be held for life, or until the elected chief willingly steps down.”
A voice rises from the gathering—an older man near the front. “Prince Addam! Does this mean you will take the crown?”
“This is not a monarchy,” I reply, striving to keep my voice steady. “It is a village chief’s role—nothing more.”
I pause, then add with quiet resolve, “But yes. If that is the people’s will… I will accept the duty.”
My hand falls to the place where the Omega Fetter is bound against my leg, the cool crystal a silent reminder of what’s to come.
“I will read the ballots when I return. I do not know when that will be—but if I come back successfully, you will never again have to fear for this village’s safety.”
The crowd begins to part, giving me space as I approach the simple wooden arch that marks the boundary of our little haven.
Waiting beneath it is a familiar figure—fluffy platinum-blonde hair tousled by the breeze, two swords slung casually across his back.
“You ready, Addam?” Corvin asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I take a long breath, feeling the gravity of everything behind and ahead of me.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
[REX]
Corvin finishes speaking, his words hanging in the air like a stone dropped into still water.
Nia’s eyes widen in shock. “Wait—your last Driver was Addam ?”
Corvin nods slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead with a wince. “Yeah… I couldn’t tell you how I remember. But I think Addam made sure I would. If it weren’t for him, I don’t think any of it would’ve come back.”
We’re seated around a quiet campsite, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound aside from the occasional breeze brushing through the tunnel entrance carved into the rock beside us.
Zeke chuckles, shooting me a look. “Rex, you’ve got a real thing for Addam’s Blades, huh? That’s two for two now.”
Nia tries to smile, her tone light, but something’s off. “Still… if Corvin was Addam’s Blade, then what about Crossette?”
Her breath catches. The weight behind her voice doesn’t match the words—it’s too heavy, too strained.
I glance over, concerned. “You okay, Nia? You don’t look too great.”
She winces. “I’m fine...” Her gaze drops. “Just... don’t like caves much, yeah?”
Gramps hovers beside us, wings flapping gently, arms crossed in his usual knowing way.
“Crossette wasn’t Addam’s Blade—she belonged to his wife, Selene,” he explains. “They’d been bonded for years. Longer than Selene had even known Addam.”
He chuckles softly, a gleam in his eye. “They called her the Warrior Chieftess of Fonsett . Had quite a reputation. It’s said even Addam thought twice before facing her in a proper spar.”
Fan leans in, her tone airy and thoughtful. “There were a few murals of the two of them, Addam and Selene, painted by Indoline Believers. She’s always portrayed as so beautiful…” Her voice lifts slightly, dreamy, clearly swept up in the image. “Some even said Malos’ appearance was… subtly influenced by Addam’s love for her.”
Pyra lets out a soft giggle. “Ah, Addam. When you put it like that, he sounds like some lovestruck kid.”
Typhos shrugs casually. “He was. Kinda.”
[ADDAM]
“The Cliffs of Morytha,” I murmur, the emerald expanse unfolding from the port nearly stealing my breath. “For a Titan they call ‘Rotten,’ it’s… breathtaking.”
Corvin whistles low beside me. “Sure is pretty,” he says, glancing sidelong at me. “You certain this is the place?”
“I can’t be,” I admit, eyes dropping to the Omega Fetter strapped tightly to my hip. “But Amalthus claimed it drifts near the World Tree when left without command. And this Titan—” I gesture out across the terrain “—is the closest one to it. So...”
“So if it’s not here now,” Corvin finishes, brow raised, “it’ll show up eventually?”
I nod. “That’s the idea.”
We start up a gently sloping hill, cliffs rising on both sides. As we walk, the walls begin to open up again, revealing the World Tree looming ahead. Its vast canopy stretches so high, it feels like it brushes the heavens.
“We’re really close now,” Corvin says, his voice reverent. “Feels like you could reach out and touch it.”
We walk on in quiet thought until a narrow fissure appears in the cliff face to our left. I slip through it without hesitation.
The path carries us forward, narrowing as we go—until it abruptly ends. A ten-foot drop waits below, the trail continuing just out of reach.
Corvin doesn’t miss a beat. He leaps down with the grace of a dancer.
I follow… considerably less gracefully.
“Owww...”
Corvin bursts out laughing, already offering a hand to pull me up.
“Let’s not do that again…” I mutter, brushing off my knees.
We press onward, only for the trail to end again—this time, thirty feet above us.
“How are we supposed to—”
Before I can finish, Corvin tenses, and a platform of shimmering light forms beneath us.
In a flash, we’re launched upward.
I hit the platform above with a grunt, crashing to my knees. “Corvin, warn me next time...”
He winks. “Sure thing, bud.”
The path ahead leads left, but quickly dead-ends once more. To our right, a thick wall of vines snakes up the rock—just sturdy enough to climb.
“Let’s go.”
Corvin laughs, “You know, we could just—”
Another light platform pulses beneath us.
And up we go. Again.
I land hard, catching myself on all fours. “Urgh, I’m gonna be sick…”
He claps a hand on my back, still laughing. “C’mon, don’t tell me you got motion sickness after sending off the Aegis! Let’s keep moving.”
[REX]
Our footsteps echo softly through the cavern, muffled by the thick blanket of spider webs coating the floor like a suffocating carpet. Every step sticks just a little too much, each thread tugging at our boots, threatening to trip us.
“Hey Pyra,” I mutter, eyeing the sticky mess ahead, “any chance you could, I don’t know… torch all these webs?”
Pyra raises an eyebrow, a flame flickering to life in her palm. “Well… it would probably kill us if anyone else tried it. But I could.”
She tilts her head, her voice thoughtful despite the casual delivery. “If someone else did it, the risks are burning up all the oxygen in the cave… or, you know, roasting us alive.”
“Yeah, how about we don’t do that,” Nia says dryly. There’s a strain in her voice—less snark than usual.
With a shrug, Pyra lowers her hand. The flame dances across the webs, and in seconds, they’re igniting in waves, burning a path through the cavern.
Screeches erupt from the darkness—dozens of skittering arachno, disturbed by the sudden heat and light, retreat deeper into the corridor.
But then—
A low rumble.
Something heavier.
A massive arachno, the size of a mid-tier Titan, drops from the cavern ceiling like a boulder, its thick carapace still glowing from the fading flames. Its many eyes gleam red in the flickering light.
Pyra takes a step back, chuckling nervously. “Oops.”
I draw Typhos’ sword in one hand, my usual steel in the other. My heart pounds, but I force a grin.
“Back me up, Pyra!”
The flames roar to life around us, even though the webs that fueled them have long since burned The flames burn the webs to a crisp, their gentle heat licking at my legs, surging through me like a current of living energy.
I face the monstrous arachno head-on, both swords drawn, flames racing up the blades and coiling around my arms. They bolster my strength, feeding into every motion with a force beyond my own.
“Rex!” Typhos calls, his voice cutting through the roar of battle.
I meet his gaze and, without hesitation, hurl the cerulean sword toward him. With my other hand, I continue the fiery assault, slashing into the beast’s armored legs, forcing it back.
Suddenly, a rush of water explodes across the battlefield, not to douse the flames—but to feed them.
Typhos’ water merges with Pyra’s fire in a dazzling spiral. Instead of extinguishing the blaze, the water ignites, turning to vapor as it fuels a burning storm that dances across the arachno’s body.
The creature screeches, flinching as the elemental onslaught forces it to recoil. I leap back, regrouping beside Typhos and Pyra.
To my surprise, Pyra meets me with a stern look—and offers me her sword.
Without a word, I sheath my steel blade and take it, gripping Typhos’ sword in my other hand when he offers it to me.
Then, it happens.
Links erupt between the three of us—threads of radiant gold crackling through the air. Me to Pyra and Typhos. Typhos to Pyra and me. Pyra to us both.
A triangle of raw energy forms, our Core Crystals flaring to life with blinding brilliance. The cavern lights with golden fire, our synchronized, otherworldly pulsing like a heartbeat through the web-laced air.
Flames and water erupt in unison as we charge headlong into the fray, the spider’s scorched, writhing form meeting us in a desperate, futile resistance.
Each strike of our blades cuts deep—fire searing, water slicing—melting through its armored shell like molten steel through frost.
With a cry, we leap skyward, gripping our swords in unison, our voices echoing through the cavern like a resonant chorus.
“ Aegis Unity: Stormflame Dance! ”
The combined force of fire and water crashes down, a spiraling tempest that slams into the beast’s skull. The moment it makes contact, the creature shudders—and then dissolves, its form unraveling into ash and vapor beneath the sheer force of our strike.
We hit the ground moments later, the weight of the battle crashing down with us. Knees buckle, swords slip from our fingers, clattering against the stone floor.
The elemental energy fades, leaving behind a shower of glowing light—amethyst and emerald sparks that drift into the stillness.
Our allies rush to meet us, their footsteps hurried.
“Damn, kids! Didn’t even let us get a hit in, huh?” Vandham booms, clapping us on the back with enough force to knock the breath from our lungs.
Typhos winces, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Vandham, if the spider didn’t kill us, your voice just might.”
Mórag offers me a hand, pulling me to my feet. “So, you’ve finally done it—Driving two Blades at once.” Her smile is soft, almost proud.
“I wouldn’t go that far...” I chuckle, brushing dust off my sleeves. “Honestly, it felt more like they were Driving me.”
Pyra nods, her expression thoughtful. “Technically, we were. We opened a balanced Ether flow between the three of us—more like a three-way street. It let us draw on each other’s strength and share the load, instead of dumping it all on you.”
“But that doesn’t mean it was easy,” Typhos adds with a sigh, his tone light. “It’s not something we should overuse—and only the three of us can pull it off, anyway.”
We press onward through the now silent cave, its once-crowded chambers emptied, reduced to ash and ember in our wake.
At the chamber’s end, we step into a vast cylindrical cavern. A massive bridge lies far below, more than a hundred feet down, spanning the diameter. Dozens of stone platforms jut from the walls like stairs carved by Titans, forming the only path down.
Roc lets out a low laugh. “I’d offer to drop us down in style, but…”
“Yeah, no thanks,” I cut in quickly.
We begin our descent, hopping from platform to platform, sliding down ropes, climbing ladders, navigating narrow caves that link the ledges. It’s slow, methodical—nothing but time and sweat in our way.
When we finally reach the bridge, the only thing ahead of us is a wall of twisted purple spikes, coiled like a thorned barrier and stretching high into the cavern ceiling.
“How are we supposed to get past this—?”
Before I can finish, the Core Crystals in Typhos’ chest and mine ignite with radiant light, nearly blinding us. When the glare fades, the wall is gone—disintegrated into mist, the path ahead laid bare.
Fan stares in awe. “So this is how Addam planned to make sure no one but the Second Arm could move forward…”
She pauses, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Though… even for Addam, this feels a bit too cautious.”
Corvin nods, “Yeah, it’s not like anyone other than the Aegis’ Driver could’ve even made it down here. What’s the point of having another ‘Are you the Aegis’ Driver’ verification this far in?”
Gramps shrugs, “Addam was worried about infiltration. Think about it, what if the Statue was moved? Or destroyed by war? It would leave the entrance wide open.”
I nod. “That makes sense, I suppose.” '
[REGIS]
“Ma’am, why do you feel inclined to treat me like this?” I ask, blinking down at the massive plate of food she’s set in front of me—before I can even object.
The kindly woman just smiles, her wrinkled face folding gently with the effort. “Because, dear, you remind me of someone very dear to me,” she says softly. “And besides… you looked like you could use a good meal.”
My thoughts drift back to the last time I ate—aboard the Monoceros with Mythra. It must have been over a week ago now.
“You’re not wrong…” I admit, my voice low as I pick up one of the wrapped morsels. The flavor is rich, warm, and soothing—more comfort than I’ve felt in longer than I can remember.
She watches me for a moment, then asks, “What brings you to Fonsett, dear? The Serpent let you pass, so you must’ve been here before.”
I nod slowly, setting down the food. “I’m a survivor of the outskirts village massacre,” I say quietly. “I… left for a while.”
Her eyes widen with a gasp. “Oh, Addam above. You must have been just a boy then—sixteen? Seventeen?”
I hesitate. But something about her presence feels safe. Familiar. I reach up and unbuckle the plate of armor I placed after the battle with the Aegis to cover my chest, revealing the azure glow of the Core Crystal beneath.
“I’m older than I look,” I say. “The only reason I survived that night was because of this.”
Her gaze locks on the crystal. “A Core Crystal…”
“I was twenty-five when it happened,” I continue, voice barely above a whisper. “And I haven’t aged a day since. I lost my wife and son that night. The Praetorium said they were saving my life… but all they left me with was this.” I pause, eyes distant. “I’ve wandered ever since. Directionless. Hollow.”
The woman’s hand rests gently over mine, warm and steady.
“Then maybe,” she says, voice quiet but resolute, “you were meant to find your way back here.”
Our attention is caught by a sharp rapping on the door, a smile appearing on her face. “He’s here.”
[REX]
A towering emblem dominates the far wall of the stone-hewn chamber, carved so deeply into the rock it feels like it’s always been there—etched into the bones of the world itself.
Typhos exhales softly at my side. “Addam’s crest.”
Corvin, Typhos, Pyra, and I lead the way down the stairs, our footsteps echoing in the vast silence. At the center of the chamber, another staircase ascends to a raised platform, the crest suspended like a sentinel above it.
We climb the final steps alone, the rest of the group waiting behind. At the summit stands a pedestal, its stone surface split by two blades plunged into its core.
The first is a greatsword—massive, regal, and unmistakably aged. Its steel blade glints faintly in the dim light, and a red velvet wrap clings to the hilt, faded with time. In its handguard is the very emblem engraved on the wall behind it: the Crest of Addam.
The second blade is smaller but no less striking—a single-edged sword of brilliant white. It catches my breath the moment I recognize it, like seeing a ghost forged in steel.
I’ve seen this sword before. In the pedestal at Addam’s statue, where Corvin himself drove it in.
I glance toward Corvin. His expression is frozen in shock. “I-I don’t remember this…” he murmurs.
Drawn like a moth to flame, Corvin steps forward, seemingly unaware of the rest of us. Before I can stop him, his hands close around the white blade's hilt.
The moment he pulls it free, the world erupts into blinding light.
[ADDAM]
I stand atop the stone platform, the Omega Fetter glowing in my hand like a brand. Clouds burst beneath me, and with them rises the massive beast—its violet armor shimmering in the sun, its presence shaking the skies.
A flicker of movement on its back. Then—
SHRAAAAK!
A beam of searing light fires from the humanoid figure mounted atop the Artifice. I throw myself aside just in time, the blast annihilating the ground where I stood.
Rubble flies. Dust clouds surge. I sprint into the Gotrock Oracle Ruins as the Artifice unleashes volley after volley, vaporizing stone and sky alike.
Corvin races beside me, eyes darting. “What’s the plan!?”
“I need a distraction,” I shout. “If I can get close enough, I can use the Fetter!”
Corvin gives a sharp nod, drawing both swords. “Then let me clear the path!”
[REX]
A wall of light shoots upward behind us, sudden, radiant, and absolute. It cuts us off from the others like a blade of energy driven into the earth.
“What!?” I stumble back, shielding my eyes.
Nia and Zeke charge up the steps, throwing their weight against the barrier. Nothing. Their hands bounce off like it’s solid steel, their voices lost in the humming silence on our side.
I spin back around—
Corvin stands motionless at the pedestal, the white blade still in hand. But something’s wrong. His eyes are vacant, glassy.
And his cape, once a somber black, now gleams with radiant gold.
Suddenly, figures shimmer into view, forming a loose ring around us. Dozens of them, illusions of golden light, each wearing the same long, hooded cloak. They resemble the hologram we once saw from Serp, but with one harrowing difference:
Each phantom wields two blades.
One is the unmistakable shape of Halteclere.
The other, Durandal.
Pyra stiffens beside me, her voice hushed with disbelief. “Halteclere and Durandal…”
Typhos narrows his eyes. “So… Addam did wield both.”
Voices resonate from the figures, deep voices surrounding us in a cacophony. “ He who inherited my Blades, he who would inherit my name.” The voices stop for a silent moment before continuing. “ He who found me. He who hopes to surpass me. ”
“Can you defeat me?”
I draw my swords, Pyra’s sword flickering into her grip. Flames flicker to life around us, igniting our surroundings in their light.
The figures approach slowly, their steps gentle and deliberate. Though they lack eyes, I feel their gaze on me. Burrowing into me, taking the weight of my very soul. Testing my resolve, both physically, and mentally.
“C-Can I do this?” I shudder, asking myself.
Before I can muster the courage to step forward, a firm hand falls on my shoulder.
In a silent, shimmering moment, the boy who I have traveled with for so long now disappears into a cloud of amethyst light, his form, and the sword in my right hand, dissolves.
In a mere second, the face I have grown to trust disappears, replaced with one far more angular, with shorter, black hair.
He’s tall, at least 4 inches taller than Typhos. A massive, ring-hilted sword appears in my hand, one I recognize to be the one the statue of Addam holds above his head.
“It seems that in any age…” Malos says, a gentle smirk on his face, “I will always awaken by your hand, Addam.”
Notes:
MWAHAHAHA
Are you ready kids!?
EDIT: Btw, I had a random thought for later in the series.
Should I try and include Ontos? Obviously can’t make them a major character, but as a slight fanservice appearance in the final act or something? Or should I just keep it to Logos and Pneuma? Lmk
Was this longer chapter better than before?
Chapter 47: Awakening Interlude: Forethought
Summary:
If one cannot see the future, why should he not be able to hear it?
Notes:
I wanted to get SOMETHING out, but I have neither the time nor the energy to write a full length chapter. This one's short, but lays the foundation for Malos himself.
Finals season is a bitch
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[MALOS]
“What do you want, Brother?” I ask, a thread of apprehension weaving through my voice. “Nothing good, I’d wager.”
Endbringer smirks, his dark hair dissolving into the endless abyss that surrounds us.
“Oh, nothing much, child,” he purrs. “In fact… I come bearing a gift.”
I tilt my head slightly, suspicion prickling down my spine. “Forgive me if I hesitate to ask its price.”
He steps closer, a predatory grin flashing beneath his night-black eyes.
“Don’t you find it unfair,” he muses, “that our dear sister sees the future, and we do not?”
Closer still, his presence looms.
“We are both Aegises, as the mortals so quaintly put it. Shouldn’t our powers mirror each other’s, in scope if not in nature?”
He turns away then, pacing idly through the void, words dripping from his lips like honeyed venom.
“Two Sirens, one for each of us. We have the Gargoyles; she had Ophion—until that mongrel Addam tore it from her grasp.”
His head twists back toward me, eyes hollow and unblinking.
“Such careful balance… yet she alone holds Foresight. And you?” His grin widens. “Your gift of destruction alone can only carry us so far, little brother.”
I sigh, pressing a hand to my temple. “Get to the point.”
Endbringer chuckles—a sound like cracked glass.
“Foresight," he says, savoring the word. "The ability to foresee what may be necessary for survival. A pity, isn’t it? Our band of fools, stumbling blindly into Elpys, oblivious to the abyss yawning at their feet. Had our sweet, fiery sister not intervened, you might have perished before you even opened your eyes.”
He circles me now, a vulture orbiting a dying thing.
“So many words," I mutter, "and so little logic. For one called Logos , you’re remarkably inefficient.”
“Patience, dear boy," Endbringer purrs, undeterred.
"Allow me a question: If Foresight is the ability to predict the actions needed for survival…
What name would you give to a skill that allows you not to see the needed action, but to hear it? To be able to take and comprehend your enemy’s knowledge before they knew it themselves?”
I fall silent, his words sinking deeper, coiling like smoke in my mind.
“…Forethought?” I venture at last.
Endbringer’s smile turns serene. He bows low, the darkness peeling away from around us.
“Enjoy, my dear little brother. May our tale continue to... walk on.”
Notes:
Endbringer is such a brat I love him.
Thoughts? Requests?
I need a nap
Chapter 48: I Can't Help but Wonder
Summary:
Rex and Malos quell the shades, and meet with father figures long passed, or, so they thought.
Notes:
Eh, I actually managed to write a decently long chapter! I hope you enjoy >:)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Malos strides forward, his voice booming through the vast corridor.
“Come then, Addam! Let’s see if your illusions can stand against the real thing!”
The flickering figures answer, their voices layered and ghostlike.
“Malos...” they echo, as the shapes of men shimmer and distort around us.
Suddenly, a vast Affinity Link ignites through my Core, the force so overwhelming it nearly knocks me to my knees.
The power surges outward from my chest, racing through my limbs, searching—demanding—an outlet.
“W-woah...” I stumble back, barely keeping my footing as the current threatens to tear me apart.
A firm hand lands on my shoulder, anchoring me.
Malos. His touch steadies the storm within me.
“You’re gonna want to sheathe the other sword, kid,” he says, voice low but steady.
Without hesitation, I obey, sliding the steel sword into its scabbard with a metallic hiss.
I grip the massive obsidian blade with both hands, its weight grounding me against the tide of power roaring through my veins.
Malos flashes a sharp grin, slamming a fist into his open palm.
“Pyra. Mind backing us up?” His smirk is almost feral. “Time to teach these Drivers of mine a lesson or two.”
Pyra steps forward, her crimson blade gleaming, a warm smile playing at her lips.
“Lead the way, brother.”
I channel the raging storm of energy into the massive, abyssal blade gripped in my hands.
The Amethyst Core embedded in its ringlike hilt flares to life; metallic prongs along the blade snap open with a sharp clatter, releasing a storm of black, firelike ether from its edge.
A familiar voice rises from deep within my mind, calm and commanding.
“It seems Endbringer’s gift won’t go to waste after all.”
I falter—but only for a moment.
The voice steadies me. “Do not let my words distract you. Carry the blade. Fight on.”
Gritting my teeth, I charge. Flames flicker at my heels as I swing the great sword—not like the precious relic it appears to be, but as if it were the battered junk sword I once trained with on Gramps’s back.
The motion is instinctual, natural.
Behind me, Malos watches in silence.
His eyes never stray from the battle ahead, yet somehow I can feel his presence, his judgment, his silent approval weighing behind every move I make.
“Sword Bash!” I roar, slamming the broad blade into the back of one of the illusions.
The figure shatters into motes of light, dissolving into the ether.
Yet before I can breathe, the echoes return.
Voices ring through the mist, a storm of golden figures closing in.
“Multus.”
From the spot where the first had fallen, a new golden phantom materializes—both swords drawn, gleaming with lethal intent.
Before I can react, his twin blades descend.
I barely raise the great sword in time, my arms trembling under the force of the impact.
“Parry. Then pass the sword to me.”
The voice echoes again from within, urgent.
Gritting my teeth, I heave the blade upward, knocking the attacker back just enough.
Without hesitating, I spin—and toss the abyssal weapon to Malos.
He catches it effortlessly, a single hand snapping around the hilt as if the massive blade weighed nothing.
With a smooth, deadly twist, he whirls the weapon around, the ring in the hilt flashing with a burst of light.
"Monado Armor!" he calls.
A crystalline barrier erupts around me, gleaming with amethyst brilliance.
The illusions strike, their ephemeral swords melting harmlessly against the shield, dissolving into fragments of gold.
Malos tosses the sword back.
When the weapons collides with my palm, a flash of memory strikes with me. A twirling motion, using the weapon’s inertia to knock enemies aside. The art flashes through my mind, yet it’s as if I’ve always known it.
Without thinking, I mimic Malos’s stance.
Another symbol ignites in the hilt, burning with renewed force.
I spin, ether whirling around me like a storm, driving me upward toward the cavern’s ceiling in a surging arc of destruction.
"Monado Cyclone!"
With a single art, six of the seven illusions dissolve into shimmering golden light. I land hard, the residual force of the technique nearly toppling me.
“Everbero,” groans the last illusion, lurching forward with all the power one body can summon.
Before I can respond, Malos raises an open hand. Darkness pools in his palm, then surges forth, slamming into the illusion. The shadow spreads like ink, crawling over the figure until only a flickering trace of light remains.
Malos exhales. “Alone, they’re small fry. It was their numbers that made them dangerous, not their strength.”
He turns to the golden barrier dividing us from the others, pressing his hand to it. That same darkness seeps outward, swallowing the radiant light until the barrier vanishes.
Nia and the others race up the stairs, crowding around Malos, Pyra, and me. But my eyes are fixed on Corvin, his hands still locked around the ancient Durandal, his gaze vacant and unfocused.
Malos speaks again, his voice low and commanding. “I trust that was proof enough, Addam. Let the kid go. This can’t be pleasant for him.”
A flash of light bursts from Durandal, engulfing us all in its brilliance.
[CORVIN]
I leap into the air, unleashing a volley of light blasts into the massive serpent’s hide. As I land, I sprint forward, charging straight toward its gaping maw.
From its back, a figure takes aim, firing a relentless stream of energy blasts with terrifying precision.
I split into multiple forms, placing my faith in the power I’ve mastered.
Ophion rears back, its mouth opening wide. A sweeping beam of energy arcs across the battlefield, obliterating all of my clones in a single, devastating motion—but by then, Addam is already there.
He drives the Omega Fetter upward, its azure light slicing the air.
“Ophion! Heed my call!” Addam shouts, his voice carrying with force to the mechanical serpent.
The assault halts. Ophion’s head lowers, its viridian gaze fixed on the prince before it.
For a silent, stoic moment, only silence rings. After a brief moment, a mechanical voice echoes from within the serpent,
“ He who bears the Omega Fetter—what is your decree? ”
The serpent speaks for the first time, and with its voice, a new era stirs.
Elysium stretches endlessly around us—verdant fields rolling on beyond sight, bathed in gentle light.
My friends stand beside me: Nia, Pyra, Tora, Mórag, Zeke, Haze, Vandham—everyone who’s walked this path with me. Everyone, except three, no, four.
At the top of the hill where I first met Typhos and Pyra, five figures stand, their eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
Typhos. Malos. Corvin. Crossette.
And a man I’ve never met, yet somehow know all too well.
Addam.
Nia’s hand tightens around mine instinctively. “I-Is this what I think it is, Rex?”
I swallow, letting the surreal beauty of it all wash over me. “Elysium… or at least, what it was meant to be.”
Fan’s eyes brim with tears, her hands clenched so tightly around her crosier that her knuckles have gone white. “It’s so beautiful… more than I ever dreamed.”
We climb the hill together, my allies following close. Just as my journey began, I now walk to meet the boy waiting at the top.
Typhos crashes into me with a hug. “We did it, Rex! We conquered Elpys!”
“T-Typhos, if you hug me any harder, you’re gonna crush me,” I wheeze. He pulls back with a sheepish, wiry grin.
“Sorry.”
I lift my gaze to Addam. His eyes remain on the horizon, a distant, wistful look softening his expression. Despite his youthful face, there’s an unmistakable weariness to him—a quiet peace that only comes after lifetimes of struggle.
“So,” he says at last, a faint smile touching his lips, “you’ve retraced my steps… claimed your destiny, boy?”
I laugh nervously. “I guess? Though I’m still not entirely sure what that means.”
His smile lingers, warm and proud. “To think… the one to succeed me would carry my blood. Fate truly is a curious playwright.”
Malos chuckles. “Your bloodline’s just as stubborn as you are, Addam.”
My eyes widen as the weight of his words hits me. “Wait—are you saying—?”
Corvin slings an arm around my shoulder, grinning. “That you’re Addam’s descendant? Yeah.”
Nia bursts out laughing. “Hah! I don’t know what’s more shocking—that you’re descended from the Hero-Prince, or that you’re related to Shellhead over here.” She jerks a thumb toward Zeke, who flails indignantly.
“Hey! Being related to the Bringer of Chaos is a great honor. Thank you very much!”
Addam’s brow lifts, surprise flashing in his eyes. “He’s descended from me as well?”
Zeke lets out a long sigh, deflating. “No, I’m Tantalese royalty. I’m descended from your uncle—Zettar.”
“So… cousins? Like, a bajillion times removed?” Pandoria asks with a smirk, nudging Zeke in the ribs.
Before anyone can reply, a voice calls out from below. “Aww, look at this—such a tender little reunion.”
All eyes turn toward the base of the hill, where a familiar pair now stands.
A woman with short, turquoise hair and a sleek matching bodysuit. And beside her, the voice’s origin: a man clad in obsidian armor, his long, abyssal hair swaying with the breeze.
The woman beams, her hair bouncing with each step. “Don’t think you can get rid of us that easily, hmm?”
Typhos grins. “Delta!”
Malos inclines his head. “Endbringer.”
Endbringer smirks. “Don’t look too happy to see me, little brother.”
Addam’s eyes widen, recognition dawning. “You’ve changed… Lord of the End.”
The man only basks in the attention, arms loosely folded, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
“And you as well, little prince,” he replies, examining his nails before flicking his fingers toward Addam. “Last time we met, you weren’t quite so… dead.”
Crossette fumes. “Would it kill you to be pleasant for once, Endbringer?”
He waves her off with mock grace. “Fine, fine. I shall endeavor not to ruin the moment.”
Dromarch clears his throat gently, trying to gather the group’s focus. “As wonderful as this reunion is, I must ask—why have you brought us here, Lord Addam?”
Addam smiles, his gaze sweeping across our gathered friends. “A new era… and yet, so many familiar faces.”
He speaks with quiet reverence, each name carefully spoken. “Typhos. Malos. Crossette. Corvin. Endbringer. Brighid…” His eyes settle on the girl standing quietly in our midst. “…and you, Haze.”
The warmth in his voice dims slightly as he regards her, not cold, but solemn. His expression is tinged with memory.
“Tell me,” Addam continues gently, “which of them is your Driver? It’s… good to see you walking alongside the Aegis again, after what happened with Lora.”
Fan la Norne’s crosier slips from her hands, clattering softly against the earth.
“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Why does everyone treat me with such warmth… such familiarity?”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she raises trembling hands to her face. “My name is Fan la Norne… but why does the name Haze feel so right ?”
Addam’s eyes widen, his gaze drifting to the Core Crystal embedded in her chest. Recognition flashes—followed swiftly by fury.
“…Amalthus.”
Malos and Typhos both stiffen, their eyes widening in unison. The realization hits them like a tidal wave, mirroring their original Driver’s rage.
The very ground beneath us trembles—Elysium itself shuddering beneath the weight of their fury.
Malos grins, his dark eyes somehow growing darker. “I’m going to kill him.”
Typhos trembles, fists clenched. He draws in a slow breath to calm the storm within. “Addam… is there anything we can do?”
Addam turns to me, the softness once in his features replaced with steel. His voice is firm, not commanding, but resolute.
“Rex, you must reclaim the Omega Fetter.”
He meets my gaze, unwavering. “Become stronger. Go to Tantal—there, the Fetter awaits. Take Ophion as your birthright. Use it to open the path to the World Tree… beneath the sea of clouds.”
I take a step back, his intensity catching me off guard. “My… birthright?”
Addam’s hand clasps my shoulder—strong, grounding. His eyes shine not with pride, but with faith.
“You who carry my name. You who have surpassed me.”
Elysium begins to dissolve, the viridian fields falling away into shadow, the abyss reclaiming the vision.
“You, who have earned the title of an Aegis Driver…”
His voice echoes through the vanishing light, a vow cast into fate.
“Bear the Blades of the Architect—and wrest the world from the False God’s grip.”
Elysium fades around us, dissolving into threads of light, until we stand once more at the base of Addam’s statue. His twin blades still glow with etherlight, casting gentle illumination across his stone form—his eyes, too, still lit, as if watching us with silent judgment… or hope.
Malos stands beside me, his expression unreadable—quiet, but firm. He glances down, sensing my hesitation.
With a small grunt, he reaches out and ruffles my hair. “We’ll figure it out. For now… let’s get some rest. Your Aunt’s probably worried sick.”
I nod, and we begin the short walk back through the quiet streets. With each step, the weight of what Addam said presses deeper into my chest… but alongside it, a flicker of excitement.
By the time we reach Auntie Corrine’s house, my heart is pounding. I hurry up the steps and knock before pushing the door open.
“Auntie Corrine!” I call, unslinging Malos’ sword from my back to show her. “You won’t beli—”
I freeze.
Standing beside the kitchen table, next to Auntie Corrine, is a tall man clad in silver armor. Twin, winglike capes trail behind him, fluttering gently in the room’s still air. He rises from his seat with a sudden motion, amber eyes locking onto mine, recognition registering, his eyes filling with tears.
His brown hair spills over his face, just like it used to when he forgot to get it cut. Mom used to make fun of him, saying he looked like an Urchon in the morning.
His voice catches in his throat as he stares at me, raw emotion flooding every line of his face.
“Rex?” he chokes out, stepping forward, shaky and uncertain.
Malos’ sword slips from my hand, clattering to the wooden floor with a hollow ring that barely registers over the roaring in my ears.
“…Dad?”
Notes:
MWAHAHA
yes, the chapter title is an epic the musical reference.
I love themmmmmmmmmm
The brainrot is taking over guys
Chapter 49: Sins of the Father
Summary:
Endbringer weighs judgement
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Dad?”
I take a step forward, but a strong hand yanks me back, threatening to take me off my feet.
Vandham throws himself between us, twin scythes materializing in his grip, gleaming with lethal purpose.
“Chieftess Corrine, step away from him. Now.”
“What!?” I gasp, twisting against his hold. “Vandham, why!?”
Brighid flares beside me, her hair igniting with blue fire that floods the room in scorching light.
“This man is with Torna , Rex,” Mórag snaps. Her arms are firm, pinning me in place.
My father recoils a step, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “I—I didn’t know…”
“Didn’t know?” Brighid’s voice is a roar, her eyes blazing. “You butchered them! You slaughtered soldiers, entire units! What about their families? What about my people!?”
“No!” I cry, struggling harder. “He’s not–he’s my dad! He wouldn’t, he didn’t-!”
“I’m sorry, Rex,” Mórag murmurs, her grip unwavering. “But the blood he’s spilled can’t be ignored.”
My dad reaches slowly to his side, toward a long, twisted sword sheathed at his hip.
Vandham’s voice is low and lethal. “Draw that sword, and I swear I’ll drop you where you stand.”
A click. The buckle unfastens.
The sword drops to the floor, spinning as it lands, and rolls to a stop.
He doesn’t reach for it.
Instead, he raises his hands slowly, tears in his eyes, and smiles, soft, broken. “It’s alright, Rex. They’re right.”
Strong arms lift me from behind. I thrash wildly as I’m hoisted up, my fists pounding against black armor.
“Malos! Let me go!”
He carries me into the side room, his voice low, pained. “I’ll handle it, kid. I won’t let them hurt him. But…”
“Please!” I scream. “Let me talk to him!”
Malos doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches, fragile.
Then, quietly, like something inside him is cracking.
“…I’m sorry, Rex. But I can’t do that.”
[MALOS]
Corrine places tea in front of me. I sit across from the man Rex calls his father.
He’s unbound. Still. Calm. His eyes meet mine, steady, unwavering, but they carry no malice. Only… resignation.
I open myself to Forethought.
The gift that lets me see intention—read motives like pages in a book. If he meant us harm, I’d feel it. There would be a spike, a shiver, a tightening in my chest.
But there’s nothing. Only the immense relief that the man feels.
From my link to Rex, however, there is everything.
Anguish.
His emotions batter at me like a storm at sea, rage and sorrow so pure it feels like drowning.
I breathe out slowly, turning to the others.
“He means no harm, Mórag. Vandham.”
Mórag watches him like a hawk, but doesn’t speak.
Brighid, on the other hand, seethes. Her hair sparks violently, like dry brush ready to ignite.
“I don’t care if he means harm,” she snaps. “I’ve every right to see this man hanged.”
Nia recoils, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious, Brighid! That’s Rex’s dad!”
“Who damn near killed us,” Vandham reminds her grimly. “It’s not personal. It’s justice.”
Typhos presses into my mind, voice hushed and anxious.
“ Malos, we can’t let this happen. If something happens to him… I don’t think Rex would ever forgive us. ”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
And then, the other voice worms its way in.
Smooth. Mocking. Cold.
“If you let them kill the boy ,” Endbringer murmurs in my mind, “ I’ve half a mind to take a life in return.”
He chuckles. Dry and mechanical.
“ I’ve taken a liking to him. Take that as you will.”
Corvin stands behind me, tense as a bowstring. His voice cuts the air.
“Executing him leaves a bad taste in my mouth… especially if he’s really Rex’s father.”
Vess exhales, her posture mirroring Corvin’s tight, ready stance. “Children… Surely we’re acting far too hastily? Should we not at least hear his story?”
Regis speaks for the first time. His voice is calm, but not cold. Steady. Worn.
“I appreciate your consideration, Lord Aegis.”
He closes his eyes, his shoulders loose—not with ease, but surrender.
“I have no illusions of innocence. Seeing Rex alive… That is more than I ever deserved.”
“I’ll hear your story,” I say at last. My voice comes out wearied. “You’ve committed crimes—deep ones. Ones that may never be forgiven.”
I sigh, massaging my temple as fatigue settles over me. “And yet… that damned Voice of the End threatens to take a life if yours is claimed.”
Crossette's mouth drops open. “Wait—Endbringer is siding with this guy? I thought he was the most bloodthirsty of us all! Always ranting about ‘balance’ and ‘equal tolls.’”
I shrug. “Don’t ask me. I’m just as confused as you.”
A low hum reverberates through my skull as Endbringer’s voice continues on, low and steady.
“ His blood debt is being paid by others, is it not? Ask the girl—the one you call Haze.”
I turn to her. “Haz—uh, Fan la Norne,” I start, “Endbringer says his debt is being paid by another. What does that mean?”
Fan steps forward slowly, her eyes locked on Regis.
“This man… he’s the one who drove Typhos to awaken Endbringer in the first place.”
She takes a breath, steadying herself. “I bargained with Endbringer. In exchange for sparing his life, and those of his compatriots, I offered penance. Patroka and Akhos now serve Indol, repaying his sins through their labor.”
My mouth moves before I realize it, my voice shifting—taken by that eerie, cold familiarity. “See? His sins are paid in blood not his own. No death is necessary.”
I blink, coughing. “Okay, seriously—don’t do that again.” My voice returns to normal.
Mórag sighs, still skeptical, but no longer ready to strike.
“Speak, Regis. Tell us of your… motivations.”
He hesitates. One hand lifts slowly to the azure crystal embedded in his chest.
“My name is Regis Origo. I lived on the outskirts of Fonsett for most of my life… until one day, it was razed by men searching for the Swords of Addam.”
He stops. His throat catches, his hands trembling.
“I lost my wife. My son. Or… I thought I did.”
His eyes drift to the door—quiet now, but I can feel it through our bond.
Rex is there. Sitting against the other side. Listening.
Zeke leans forward. “Wait—you said your last name is Origo?”
Regis nods. “Same as the Hero-Prince, yes. I once thought it coincidence.”
I nod, finishing the thought. “Then Endbringer told you the truth. That you’re his descendant.”
Regis confirms with a brief nod.
“And how did you survive?” Mórag presses. Her tone is firm, but the fire has softened in her eyes.
Regis taps his Core Crystal.
“Indoline monks found me in the wreckage. They brought me to Indol… and gave me this.”
He looks down at it, voice low. “Said it was mercy.”
He glances toward the door again—toward the quiet weight of a son just beyond his reach.
“Only now do I realize… just how right they were.”
Regis exhales, his voice low and fragile.
“I wandered for a long time… aimless, broken. Until Mythra found me.”
He pauses, his eyes dim with memory.
“She… took a liking to me. Made me a promise.”
“And just what was that?” Brighid snaps, the tension in her tone sharp as a blade.
“That if I helped her reclaim her strength—her authority as an Aegis…” Regis’s voice trembles, barely audible. “She would bring back my son.”
The shock in the room is palpable. And I feel it ripple through Rex, behind the door.
I surrender to it. Let him take over.
[ENDBRINGER]
The inquisitor’s eyes are wide—locked on the prisoner like a hawk.
I lift the delicate porcelain cup that the older woman placed before Malos, swirling the amber liquid inside.
“Mmm.” I sip thoughtfully. “This ‘tea’ beverage is truly exquisite.”
Corvin groans. “Endbringer… If you're taking Malos’ place, could you at least focus on the matter at hand?”
I grin, savoring another sip.
“What verdict is there to render? To me, the man’s sins are already paid.”
I set the cup down with a soft clink. “If we’re playing by your mortal rules, shouldn’t Mythra bear the guilt here? Deceiving a grieving man—manipulating him at his weakest?”
Regis’s face pales. “Deception…? What are you saying?”
I don’t look at him. I watch the steam curl from the tea.
“Even at her full strength, Mythra could never bring back the dead. That’s a power reserved only for Father, and frankly, even I doubt he has it.”
Regis starts to tremble. “You mean… Even if she’d succeeded, if I’d done everything, it would’ve been for nothing?”
I glance at him, a slow smirk returning to my face.
“Suppose it’s a good thing your son’s alive, isn’t it?”
Pyra’s hair flares with heat, sparks falling from her scorched locks like fireflies.
“Mythra,” she growls, “this is low. Even for you.”
“And once again,” Mórag mutters, rubbing her brow, “everything circles back to her.”
She exhales. “I hesitate to punish him now. Not when the intent was to restore a life we know he never truly lost.”
Brighid’s flame dulls to embers.
“As do I. Especially when the life in question is… Rex”
Nia steps forward, her voice quiet. Gentle.
“You know… even when I worked with Torna, I only ever saw you in passing.”
She swallows, her throat tight. “You were always gone. Missions. Rumors. Nothing more.”
Regis lowers his gaze. “Slaughtering innocent men… for a cause that meant nothing.”
Nia closes her hand into a trembling fist, then opens it again. “The Emperor gave me mercy. Told me that if I fought beside Rex, I could atone.”
She stares at her palm, voice wavering.
“And from the way you talk… it seems like you’ve always been fighting for him. One way or another.”
Then she offers her hand, open, trembling, steady in its resolve.
“So why not do it the right way this time? Take up your sword for something that does matter. For him.”
Regis lifts his gaze, sweeping across the faces in the room—Mórag, Brighid, Vandham, Fan, Corvin, Crossette… and finally, back to the door.
Mórag sighs. “I suppose Rex would be happier with this choice.”
Brighid’s eyes narrow, though her voice is calm. “But make no mistake—we’ll be watching. If you ever give us a reason to strike, I will take the honor.”
Regis looks at Nia, at her hand, and reaches.
He clasps it, eyes wet but clear.
“You’re right,” he says softly. “It’s always been for him.”
[REGIS]
After seven years of silence, of pain, of endless what-ifs…
Only a single wooden door separates me from my son.
I draw in a deep, trembling breath and turn the knob.
Inside, Rex sits alone on a small bed, the light dim around him.
A journal rests in his hands, his knuckles white around it, tears shining in his eyes.
“Rex…?” My voice cracks like old wood. My heart hammers against my ribs.
He doesn’t look up right away, just sets the journal to the side and wipes his face.
Then he rises.
The Amethyst Core embedded in his chest glows faintly—alive, radiant.
He takes a step, and so do I.
And then we collide.
No words. Just arms, and tears, and the desperate grip of two lives torn apart for too long.
“I always hoped…” Rex sobs into my shoulder, “that you were still out there somewhere…”
I hold him as tight as I can. As if I let go now, I might lose him again.
“I should’ve come back. I should’ve found you… I just assumed…”
My voice fades, swallowed by guilt.
Rex doesn’t answer. He just holds on.
Eventually, I pull back, and he turns toward the bed.
He picks the journal back up, holding it in both hands as his tears begin to flow anew.
“Um… Mom…” His voice catches. “She didn’t make it.”
The words gut me. But I nod. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “She would’ve wanted you to survive.”
Rex lowers his gaze, clutching the journal.
“In all the years we were apart… whenever I wanted to feel close to you two, I wrote in this.”
He extends the journal toward me, his hands shaking.
“Would you… read it with me?”
Notes:
FUCK I CRIED LIKE A BABY WRITING THIS
I love them so muchhhhh
URGH
I WROTE THE STORY WHY DOES IT HURT
Chapter 50: Warmth of the Hearth
Summary:
The group rests and recalls their experiences, preparing themselves for the journey ahead.
Notes:
A bit of a fluff chapter, but starting next time, we're heading off to Indol! Wanted to fit In a bit more chill before the storm. Next one should be pretty long!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REGIS]
“So, how are you adjusting?” Corrine asks gently, settling across the table from me, her eyes soft with kindness.
“It’s... more than I deserve,” I reply, barely above a whisper.
Across the room, Rex sits on the floor beside the Gormotti girl—Nia, if I recall correctly. The two of them flip through his journal together, reading the entries he wrote during all those years I was gone.
We’d done the same earlier—read page after page, both laughing and crying until the sun dipped below the horizon.
Corrine reaches out, her hand warm as it wraps around mine.
“Everyone makes mistakes, dear,” she says. “Yours may have been graver than most… but I’ve never believed that second—or even third—chances can’t be earned.”
Before I can reply, a heavy hand claps me on the back, nearly knocking the wind from me.
I glance up to see the broad frame of the man I fought at the harbor—Vandham. Rex called him a friend.
“Ay, kid. Come have a drink with me,” he says, voice rough but not without warmth. “I wanna talk to ya.”
Despite myself, a small smile touches my lips.
“You know… I may look young, but I’m in my thirties. Not much of a ‘kid.’”
Vandham throws back his head in a hearty laugh, then grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet like I weigh nothing.
“Eh, still sounds like a kid when you’re my age.”
“I suppose there’s logic in that.”
Vandham pours us both a drink, then leads me outside to the side of Corrine’s small house.
We stand side by side, leaning against the wall, the air warm with the last light of day as we watch the sun bleed into the horizon.
He gestures to a building in the distance, just barely visible in the fading glow. “Y’see that place over there? Rex mention that during your talk?”
I squint through the amber haze, trying to make out its shape. “I don’t think he did, no.”
Vandham exhales slowly. “That boy of yours doesn’t take credit for his actions.”
He nods toward the distant building. “That’s the reason he left the village in the first place.”
I tilt my head, still straining to make out the structure. “What is it?”
He takes a long pause, as if measuring the weight of what he’s about to say.
“It’s an orphanage. Run by his aunt, Corrine.”
His eyes stay fixed on the horizon, voice low and steady.
“From what she’s told me, most of the kids there were left orphaned or abandoned after the attack on Fonsett—the same one that tore your family apart.”
He takes a sip from his cup. “When Rex came of age, he left the village. Not for glory or riches. He just wanted to earn enough to keep the place going. Said he felt responsible for the others… since he was the oldest.”
“Why? He was just a kid himself…” I mutter. “That responsibility should’ve been mine. He should’ve had the chance to be a child. To worry about girls, about passing his next exams—like I did at his age.”
My voice trails off, the alcohol stirring my emotions more than I’d like. “He shouldn’t be carrying the weight of the world.”
Vandham chuckles. “Well, I don’t think you need to worry about the ‘worrying about girls’ part.”
I raise an eyebrow, caught off guard. My mind flickers to his traveling companions—one in particular, a feline girl always at his side. “Wait, are they…?”
Vandham just smirks, shaking his head. “Nah. But they’re not fooling anyone.”
I exhale, a strange sort of relief settling in my chest. “I’m glad. That they can still be kids… even just in that small, fragile way.”
He glances down at me with something like kindness in his eyes. “Then let’s make sure they end up in a world where they can be kids again, yeah?”
I nod slowly. “Yes. Let’s.”
[MALOS]
“I’m still trying to make sense of everything. The Crucible, Addam, Ophion… least of all Rex and his dad,” Corvin groans, head in his hands. “And then there’s you.”
I laugh. “It’s been an eventful day and a half, that’s for sure.”
Rex and Nia are asleep, their heads gently resting against each other. The journal lies open on the floor beside them, still marked by a folded corner.
“You know,” Pyra giggles, settling into the chair next to me, “I think they’re the only ones who haven’t realized what’s going on.”
Pandoria chuckles. “We’ve been around them what—two days? And I think I’ve heard them flirt more than not.”
Zeke sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And I’d bet we haven’t even seen half of it.”
“I don’t know what’s more surprising,” Vess says with a smirk, “that he came back as the Driver of the Aegis… or with a girlfriend.”
Corvin groans. “She’s not his girlfriend yet. That’s the worst part.”
He closes his eyes, like reliving a persistent headache. “She’s all he talks about. They get separated for one mission and he’s like, ‘Oohhh, I hope Nia’s group is okay…’ every time he opens his mouth.”
“I mean,” I say, amused, “considering how that mission ended, he wasn’t wrong to worry.” I shake my head, recalling Typhos’ experience.
Corvin groans again. “Yeah, now we know that. He didn’t.”
Corrine steps in from the kitchen, balancing a truly heroic plate of cookies in her hands.
Zeke’s eyes go wide, his jaw practically unhinging. “Corrine, I think you’re a gift straight from the Architect himself.”
Corrine chuckles, setting the plate down. “Anyone who puts up with that boy’s shenanigans day in and day out deserves to be spoiled once in a while.”
Pyra eyes the plate like it’s a divine artifact, already reaching for one.
“For all our complaining,” she says through a bite, “we do really love the kid.”
Notes:
I say this too much, but I love them, your honor.
I'm excited to set up Regis more, I just hope you guys are enjoying him so far.
Chapter 51: Indol
Summary:
Rex and his family part ways with Leftheria, and move on towards their next goal.
Notes:
A decently long chapter this time. I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[TYPHOS]
“Rex! Rex!”
A group of children swarms him, clambering around to catch a glimpse of their hero.
“Rex! Can you do my hair again?” a small girl pleads, gazing up at him hopefully. “Auntie Corrine tries, but you do it the best.”
Rex leans down, ruffling her hair with a gentle smile. “Alright, sure. Mind waiting around a bit, though?”
Pyra giggles as she crouches beside him. “I didn’t know you were such a popular one, Rex.”
The morning sun glints off the orphanage roof, bathing the yard in a warm, golden light. Inside, Malos still sleeps, recovering from his reawakening.
“You needn’t worry about our brother, Typhos.”
Delta whirls into view beside me, gliding effortlessly like a drifting leaf. After what feels like a millennium, she has finally decided to grace us with her presence.
“He merely needs rest,” she adds gently.
I sigh. “You’d think after sleeping for so long, he’d be plenty rested.”
Delta hums disapprovingly, her emerald lights pulsing in time with her exasperation. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”
“You’re really tall.”
The small voice catches me off guard. A child, when did he arrive? He stares up at me, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Do you think I’ll get as tall as you?”
“I suppose we’ll never know until the time comes.” I smile, lowering to one knee. “Are you one of Rex’s friends? What’s your name?”
“My name’s Kirk.”
He puffs up with pride, only to be immediately distracted by the glow of my Core Crystal.
“Woah! You’re a Blade! Dunno if I’ve ever seen a crystal like that, though.”
I chuckle, patting his head. “I’m not quite like other Blades. But it’s nothing you need to worry about.” I gesture toward Pyra, still standing beside Rex. “See her? That’s my sister, she’s like me.”
Kirk’s attention shifts again, this time locking on Delta as she hovers overhead.
“You’ve got a tiny version of Addam’s Serpent!” he exclaims.
Before anyone can stop him, he darts toward her, reaching up with grabby hands.
Delta spirals into a frantic loop. “Please, child, I’ve no wish to be manhandled!” she squeaks, circling wildly through the air.
“Kirk, are you giving poor Delta a hard time?” Rex calls, walking over with a mock frown.
Kirk freezes. “Uh, no! I promise I wasn’t!”
Rex raises an eyebrow, hands on his hips like a disapproving parent. “What am I going to do with you?”
Just then, Fan approaches from the house, her crossier held loosely at her side.
“Lord Rex,” she says with her usual calm formality, “I mean not to rush you, but how long are we planning to remain in Fonsett?”
Rex turns to her, the smile fading gently from his face. “I’m not sure. Do you think we need to leave?”
Fan hesitates. “I don’t wish to impose, but I believe we should make ship for Indol before long.”
Rex sighs, glancing back at the orphanage. The sound of laughter, of children playing, seems to tug at him like a thread he doesn’t want to let go.
“You’re probably right.” He closes his eyes briefly, steadying himself. “Let me say goodbye to the kids. Then we’ll leave as soon as it’s reasonable.”
“I don’t wish to cause you heartache, Lord Rex,” Fan says, the weight of the responsibility in her voice. “But I also don’t wish to keep Praetor Amalthus waiting.”
Rex nods slowly. “You’re right. I can’t stay at home forever.”
[REX]
Auntie Corrine places a gentle hand on my cheek, smiling through the sorrow in her eyes. “Take care, love. We should see each other before long.”
I nod, squeezing her hand in mine. “If Indol calls a meeting of the nations, it won’t be long at all.”
Vandham claps a massive hand on my back, nearly knocking the wind out of me. “We’ll look after the kid while you’re gone.”
Dad nods beside him, smiling as he pats the small pouch strapped at his side where he’s been keeping my journal. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on us getting separated a second time.”
Despite the ache in my chest, I find myself smiling. “Come on. I can take care of myself.”
“Sure, bud.” Malos leans down, ruffling my hair with one oversized hand. “Keeping you safe is a full-time job on its own.”
“Don’t act like there aren’t plenty of people chomping at the bit to get at you, Mr. Wannabe Kidnap Victim,” Nia teases, elbowing Malos despite the fact that she barely reaches his shoulder, tall ears included.
Malos smirks. “You’ve used that one on Typhos before, haven’t you?”
Nia groans. “Oh, right… you two share memories.”
Mórag folds her arms with a weary sigh. “If we occupy the harbor any longer, we may disturb the townsfolk.”
I look over the gathered faces, my family, my friends, my home, and let out a soft laugh. “Let’s get on this boat before I decide to stay home for good.”
[MALOS]
The Cloud Sea stirs gently, lapping against the side of the boat as it glides silently toward Indol.
“Lord Malos…”
Fan’s voice breaks the stillness. She looks up at me, worry etched across her delicate features.
“It’s been bothering me… Why does everyone call me Haze?” Her voice trails off, uncertainty leeching through her. “Even the original Second Arm called me that.”
I glance down. She seems so small, her frame diminished, her presence dimmed. The question lingers in the air like a fragile thread, trembling in the silence.
“Because that is your name,” I answer at last.
She raises a trembling hand to her forehead as if trying to steady her thoughts. “Then why am I known as Fan la Norne? Why do I remember myself that way?”
I look to her Core Crystal.
Cleaved down the center. What should be a diamond is now a triangle, broken. Incomplete.
“The weight of the truth would crush this one, boy. ”
Finality murmurs inside me, voice slick with amusement.
“I don’t know,” I say.
The lie drifts into the mist, echoing in the chamber which my mind has become.
[REX]
The Titan of Indol is a massive, birdlike, draconic creature, its wings stretching so wide they seem to cradle the sky.
Most of its landscape is consumed by the sheer scale of its wingspan, yet somehow, the Indoline Praetorium has made this Titan its throne, a sanctuary suspended in the clouds.
Our ship docks at a sprawling marble port near the Titan’s tailbone. The entire stretch of habitable land has been transformed into a gleaming haven, white stone stretching as far as the eye can see, gleaming like polished bone.
“I must say, its appearance is truly fitting for a so-called ‘Holy Land,’” Dromarch muses, his silvery fur catching the light, almost indistinguishable from the marble beneath us.
“You said it.”
Nia looks around, ears twitching. She nudges the stone with the toe of her boot, the sharp click of hardened material on marble echoing faintly in the open air.
I kneel, brushing the marbled ground with the back of my hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kind of material before.”
Fan smiles softly, nodding. “It’s a stone unique to this Titan. Indoline Marble, a symbol of the Architect’s favor, and a reflection of the Indoline people’s blessed longevity.”
“Indoline do live for centuries,” Mórag murmurs. “Rumor has it the current Praetor is over 500 years old.”
Malos folds his arms, placing one hand on his hip. “I knew him 500 years ago, so I can confirm that rumor.”
My eyes widen. “So that’s why Addam mentioned Amalthus…” I mutter, a bit embarrassed. “I almost thought it was just coincidence.”
Malos pats my shoulder, saying nothing.
Then,
A deep voice echoes through my mind.
“ Stay close. Don’t let us get separated. ”
The intrusion sends a jolt down my spine, reverberating through the Core in my chest.
The voice chuckles.
“ Get used to it. Some things can’t be said out loud here .”
Malos turns, winks at me, then nods for Fan to lead the way into the city.
I hesitate for a moment before thinking deliberately,
Why?
“ This power is called Forethought. ” Malos’ voice is calm and measured inside my mind. “It lets me, and now you—hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of those around us. And it lets us speak like this, without words. ”
He keeps walking ahead, his lips unmoving.
“Endbringer called it a counterweight to Mythra’s Foresight. And thanks to this very ability… ”
He pauses, just for a beat.
“…Amalthus can’t be trusted. Minoth made sure he couldn’t use Foresight on us, and he never could on Haze, either, but don’t think he hasn’t found other ways around it. ”
“But why?” I press. “Why would the Praetor of all people have Foresight?
Malos exhales, but in my mind, it still somehow feels impatient.
“ Jeez, kid… ”
“ Because the Praetor is Mythra’s Driver. Why do you think everyone calls him the First Arm? ”
We walk on in silence for a time. The only voice among us is Fan’s, cheerful, eager, narrating the significance of every landmark we pass. After the fifth statue or monument, I lose count.
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder. I glance up-
It’s Dad. His brows are knit in quiet concern.
“Are you okay, Rex? You’re awfully quiet.”
I shake my head quickly, caught off guard. “N-no, I’m fine.”
But then it hits me.
I blink, the realization rushing in. “Wait... are you okay, though, Dad? Isn’t this where you ended up after we got separated?”
He winces. It’s subtle, but I catch it.
Still, he quickly tries to smooth it over.
“It’s not a pleasant time to recall… but I’ll survive.”
“Dad…”
He pulls me a little closer, hand still firm on my shoulder.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. You’re with me this time. It’s not like last time.”
I exhale slowly, leaning into the unfamiliar comfort.
“…Right. It’s not.”
[NIA]
Rex really does look like his dad, walking close beside him like that. There’s something in the way they move, quietly, easily, that softens the boy I’ve fought beside. In moments like this, he looks less like the hero he’s been forced to become, and more like the fifteen-year-old kid he actually is.
“They almost make me wish I was on good terms with my old man,” Zeke says with a wistful sigh, just a step behind me.
He pauses for a beat, then glances over. “What about you? You still speak to yours?”
“…My da died a while back,” I answer, the words falling flat. “’Bout a year before I joined Torna.”
Zeke’s expression shifts, serious, then soft. “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”
I shrug, more out of habit than apathy. “I got over it, I guess. He was never the same after my sister died.”
I must’ve said it louder than I thought, because Rex suddenly turns to look at me, surprise flashing in his eyes.
“Wait… you had a sister?”
I nod. “She was always really frail. Da spent everything trying to find the best healing Blades in the world. But it was never enough.”
I pause, forcing the breath through. “She passed, and it left us… broken. Penniless.”
Dromarch brushes against my side, nuzzling gently, trying to soothe me. I reach down, scratching him behind the ears with a small smile.
“S’not all bad, though. Dad left me Dromarch, at least.”
Rex smiles, “So that’s how you two met. He used to be your dad’s Blade?”
I nod, his smile inspiring a warmth in my chest. “Yeah.”
[REX]
“ So, what’s keeping Amalthus from seeing us? From foreseeing our movements? ”
Fan continues to chatter away, clearly in her element, back among the pristine marble streets of her homeland. Malos glances at her now and then, and every time he does, I feel it, little flickers of something dark pulsing through our shared Core. Anger. Guilt. Sadness. Maybe all three.
“ Amalthus’ version of Foresight is limited, ” Malos whispers down the bond, his voice tightly controlled, but not devoid of feeling. “ He can see the future in relation to others, even from far away, but not his own. Not that of his Blades, either. ”
A pause. Then, he adds, “ Minoth gave Typhos his Blade weapon, a dagger. As long as one of us carries it… or we travel with Haze, Amalthus’ Foresight is useless. ”
“ But why don’t we trust him? ” I ask, watching as Fan waves to a street vendor. Her smile is easy, natural. The people love her. She’s offered fresh fruit and bread at every turn. She radiates peace.
Malos doesn't respond at first. When he does, his thoughts are thick with weight.
“ Mythra’s corruption… it had to come from somewhere. ”
He looks at Fan again, longer this time. There's longing in his gaze. Regret. A tightness in his jaw like he’s forcing something down.
“ Haze has always been gentle. Kind. Too kind for this world. I doubt even Amalthus could’ve erased that part of her. She took after Lora… after Jin. ”
I glance up at the hulking shape beside me. Malos’ angular features stand in stark contrast to Typhos’ softer ones, sharp edges instead of rounded calm. Typhos wasn’t kidding when he said he took after Jin, not his older brother.
“What was Jin like back then?” I ask quietly. “You always get so… quiet when you talk about the past. Especially him.”
Malos’ face tightens. He forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“He was… different. Gentler. Kinder.” He turns away, hiding his expression. “I’ll tell you someday. Or maybe… you’ll see it for yourself.”
He falls silent, and I don’t push.
We continue walking, winding through the pristine streets of Indol until we come to a wide set of stairs. They rise before us in a gentle curve, one flight after another, leading toward a towering, open cathedral that pierces the clouds. Its white spires shimmer in the light, stained glass windows casting soft hues on the marble. Massive spires wider than entire streets tower above, the building so large and open it could be considered its own city.
At the base of the stairs, an old man sits silently.
His skin is a muted blue, faded with age. A long white beard flows down his chest, carefully parted around a tarnished silver pendant. The symbol on it strikes me like a jolt.
A rectangular shape, with two protrusions on each side. The symbol of the Aegis.
Exactly what Typhos’ and Malos’ Core Crystals would resemble… if they were whole.
He looks up, and the moment his eyes meet Malos', a smile spreads across his wrinkled face.
With effort, the old man rises, swaying slightly, barely tall enough to reach Malos’ sternum. Tears trail down his cheeks, his hand outstretched—not toward Malos’ face, but toward the Core embedded in his chest.
“Our lord… our demigod…” the man breathes, voice trembling with awe. “You have returned to us. To think I would live to see this moment… In all my years, I never dreamed…”
Pyra steps forward, appearing beside Malos, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Demigod?” she repeats, her hand reflexively rising to rest above her own Core.
The man’s eyes flick to her—and freeze. His entire body recoils, stiffening in terror.
“T-that Core! You-You’re the Fallen Aegis!” he stammers, stumbling backward. His trembling gaze whips back to Malos, panic etched across every line of his aged face. “Lord Demigod! Please! Allow this humble servant to distract her—buy you time to escape!”
Pyra flinches at his words, retreating a step as her capes ripple behind her. “W-wait! I mean no harm! I’m not who you think I am!” she cries out, arms raised defensively. Her green Core and arm gleam in the sunlight, refracting shards of emerald light across the marble floor.
But before anyone can intervene, a voice rings out, calm, deep, commanding.
“Sir Denarius… Steady yourself, friend.”
We all look up the staircase.
Descending toward us is a tall man, his azure skin glowing faintly in the light. He wears flowing white robes embroidered with golden thread, and atop his head rests an ornate crownlike hat, adorned with sweeping golden horns.
Denarius immediately drops to his knees, his head bowed low.
“If it is your will…”
“First Arm of the Architect, Praetor Amalthus.”
Notes:
Whaddya think? Any thoughts?
Chapter 52: Amalthus
Summary:
Amalthus speaks as the voice of god, so what would happen if this speaker had his own motives?
Notes:
Next time, we get into the bread and butter of what I have planned for Indol. Next up, Temperantia, and the Ascension.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“It is an honor to see you in good health, Your Eminence,” Malos says smoothly, his voice calm and laced with polite control.
“The honor is all mine, Lord Malos.” Praetor Amalthus descends the steps slowly, each stride deliberate, as though the world should adjust itself to his pace.
In front of us, Denarius stirs, still kneeling. “First Arm, were you aware of the First Sword’s resurrection!?” His voice quivers with fear, barely able to contain his terror.
Amalthus nods, eyes never leaving us. “I am—and I was. But I believe you’ll find this is not the same sword that once brought the world to ruin, five centuries ago.”
Pyra exhales, tension draining from her shoulders. “You’re right. I’m not.”
Amalthus regards her for a long moment before asking, “Tell me, then—who is your Driver? For I cannot claim that privilege… not for you, at least.”
I take a step forward, instinct pulling me between Pyra and Malos. “That would be me,” I say firmly, though I stumble a little over the formality. “For both of them. Y-your Eminence.”
Amalthus’ eyes widen slightly, a flicker of interest breaking through his otherwise impassive face. “A Driver… of not one, but two Aegises.”
He lets the thought linger, the silence thick with meaning, before he turns, his robes flowing behind him.
“Come. We may continue this conversation above. You may introduce your friends properly.”
Amalthus leads us up the stairs in silence. Each step echoes against the marble, as if counting down toward something vast and inevitable. The staircase feels endless.
I feel a sudden weight press against my back—steady hands adjusting something behind me.
“ You will wear the swords while you're here, ” Malos’ voice murmurs through the bond. I glance back to see both his and Pyra’s blades strapped across my back. “I f not for defense, then as a symbol. ”
“ I don’t know if I can even lift yours one-handed, ” I admit, recalling the sheer weight of his sword from the last time I tried.
“ If all goes according to plan, ” he replies calmly, “ you won’t need to. ”
At last, Amalthus passes through a towering marble archway—and the sight beyond nearly stops me in my tracks.
A sprawling courtyard opens before us, framed in gleaming white stone. The midday sun casts the marble in brilliant light, too perfect, too clean. But Amalthus walks on, unmoved.
Beyond the courtyard, the open expanse flows into another enormous structure—though it feels more like a sacred open-air chamber than a true building. Archways stretch high above us, open ceilings letting light flood the space.
Within the pavilion, carefully tended fields of grass grow in symmetrical patches, framed by geometric marble walkways. It’s a strange fusion of life and stone, warmth and cold precision.
We follow the Praetor deeper, into a smaller, but still imposing, inner chamber.
At the heart of the room sits a circular platform, surrounded by glowing emerald lines that radiate outward along the floor, snaking up the walls and feeding into shimmering carvings above. Their light pulses faintly, like veins of power.
Against the far wall, a throne rests beneath a breathtaking mural.
The World Tree rises across the marble in carved relief, its branches stretching up toward the ceiling. Rays of light erupt from it in every direction—and nestled high among the topmost boughs is an ethereal burst of emerald light, shaped unmistakably like an Aegis Core.
Amalthus approaches the throne but stops just short of it.
“Do you mind if I sit, Lord Rex?” he asks, the title lingering in the air like a test. “Or would you prefer to rest in the seat yourself?”
I shake my head without hesitation. “Please, take the seat. I’ve no wish for it.”
“Very well.”
He settles onto the throne, folding his hands gently in his lap. A smile, soft, but unreadable, graces his lips.
“Now then,” he says, fixing me with those ever-measured eyes. “Where were we? Why don’t we begin with your tale?”
I draw a slow breath. “You’ve met Pyra and Malos already, but I imagine you’ll want to hear their stories in full.”
Amalthus inclines his head. He does not speak.
Malos’ form flickers, dissolving in a pulse of amethyst light—then reconstitutes as Typhos, calm and composed, standing tall before the throne.
“Addam sank me beneath the Cloud Sea, as I’m sure you already know,” Typhos begins, voice steady and devoid of bitterness.
“You can change at will?” Amalthus interjects, surprise flickering in his expression.
“We can,” Typhos replies. His body shimmers—Malos for a heartbeat—then back again. “It depends on who wishes to take the lead.”
He continues, “Mythra found me. She enlisted salvagers, Rex among them, to raise the ship and bring me within her grasp. Through… certain circumstances, I chose Rex as my Driver. And we escaped her.”
“So Mythra was the one who brought you back to us,” Amalthus murmurs.
“In a sense,” Typhos confirms, but presses on without waiting for more.
He recounts our path through the Cloud Sea, halting just before the confrontation with Mythra in Uraya.
Pyra steps in seamlessly. “Rex and our group were ambushed by a Blade who could manipulate Ether Flow. We were pushed to the brink of defeat.”
Delta hums softly to life, detaching from Typhos’ belt and floating forward. Her mechanical voice reverberates through the vaulted space.
Amalthus recoils, “ Ophion? ”
“I took the opportunity to speak to Rex. To offer him a different path. I promised to suppress the Voice of the End within him, and grant Pyra’s full strength—if he would agree to kill Mythra when the time came.”
“I accepted,” I say quietly. “Delta and Pyra broke away from Mythra, and now fight with us to end her threat to the world.”
Amalthus leans in slightly, curiosity sharpening his gaze. “‘Voice of the End’?”
Typhos flickers again, his form collapsing inward, consumed by indigo flame, and reforms.
Where Typhos once stood now stands the End.
His appearance has changed; his armor glistening like a sea of stars, now a vibrant indigo that shimmers with motion. His hair, empty as the night sk, parts fluidly down his back. He bows low with practiced grace.
“Such an elegant title can only belong to me, I’m afraid,” he purrs.
He straightens, lifting his gaze to meet the Praetor’s. Abyssal eyes gleam with restrained amusement, and his smile reveals perfectly white teeth.
“It’s an honor, truly.”
Amalthus appears genuinely unsettled, his gaze flickering between Endbringer, Pyra, and Delta. For the first time, his composed veneer cracks.
“I was aware of Typhos,” he says slowly. “Addam himself informed me of his existence.” He leans back, voice quiet but strained. “But now you’re telling me there are not one, but three previously unknown Aegises?”
“My dear sister is in no shape to keep me locked away anymore,” Endbringer replies, his tone syrupy, each word edged with amusement. “Nor is she in any position to trouble you, Your Eminence.” He spits the title with mock reverence, before casually gesturing toward Pyra. “Her, though? That’s a different story entirely.”
He laughs lightly, like something delicate cracking under pressure.
“The verdict’s still out on me too, I suppose.” He turns his hand over, inspecting his nails—now stained a shimmering purple, almost indistinguishable from the hue of his armor. “Time will tell.”
“Lord Endbringer,” Fan interjects, her voice soft but urgent. “Do not diminish your mercy. Was it not you who saw the Second Arm’s father safely returned to him?”
Endbringer tilts his head, grinning as if amused by her daring. “Ah. It seems I do have a character witness.” He shoots her a wink. “Duly noted.”
Amalthus exhales, attempting to piece together his composure. He folds his hands once more.
“I have no right to judge the will of a… Demigod, ” he says at last.
Endbringer’s eyes widen, theatrically. “And yet you had the gall to declare your own Aegis Fallen ?”
Amalthus’ eyes narrow, his voice hardening. “All Mythra is, is an Aegis who has lost the favor of the Architect.”
He turns to Pyra, then to Delta, then back to Endbringer.
“The fact that her sisters split from her… only supports that claim.”
“Endbringer,” I say, more firmly than I feel. “We didn’t come here to interrogate the Praetor. Stand down.”
He chuckles, low and metallic, the sound crawling beneath my skin. “Very well.” His head tilts, one abyssal eye turning toward me. “Do be careful, Little King.”
With a shimmer of violet light, Endbringer fades, and Malos stands in his place once more. He exhales heavily. “You can see why we initially… tried to suppress him.”
Amalthus nods, slowly. “Indeed.”
I shake off the tension and press on. “As for our group, well—you’ve already seen me, Typhos, Malos, Pyra, and Delta.” I begin listing the rest—Nia and Dromarch, Tora and Poppi, Mórag, Zeke and Pandoria,
But before I can say another word, Dad steps forward.
“It’s been a while, Your Eminence,” he says quietly.
Amalthus’ eyes widen in recognition. “Last I heard, you were with Torna.”
Dad nods, his hand gently finding my arm. “It was… a mistake. Mythra lied to me. Told me she could bring my son back—if I helped her.” His grip tightens slightly. “And I believed her. I was ready to fight the people my son called family. But they forgave me. They gave me a second chance… and brought me back to him.”
“It is always a pleasure,” Amalthus says, voice taut, “to see a family … restored.”
My vision stutters. I blink, but something is wrong.
The Praetor’s face distorts, his robes replaced by gold-and-white armor, his hat fracturing into a gleaming circlet. His pale features stretch, and in a heartbeat, Amalthus is her. Her cold smile, her burning eyes.Mythra.
“It is a pleasure,” she says, he says, both voices layered together, echoing inside my head.
“To see the Second Arm protected by those who are both competent… and emotionally invested.”
The words fall like weights in my chest. The voices are too similar. The smirk, too familiar.
“We would like to officially inform the rest of the world,” Pyra begins, her voice calm but resolute, “of Mythra’s threat… and of our resurgence. Do you believe that’s reasonable?”
Amalthus places a finger to his lips, thinking. “Yes… yes, I believe it is.” His gaze sharpens with something unreadable. “Perhaps we could make the occasion something to remember. Something… for the ages.”
Malos narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Amalthus smiles, his eyes suddenly illuminated by azure light, almost seeming to come from below the brim of his hat.
“We shall call the nations together,” he says slowly, “under the truth of alliance and warning… and after… we will hold a Coronation .”
Notes:
Hopefully these chapters have been long enough. If they're not, lmk, and I'll try and make them even longer.
Chapter 53: Inheritance
Summary:
Rex and family rest and prepare for the coronation.
Notes:
I lied. I'm bad. I liked how this chapter was flowing on it's own, so here's more found family shenanigans.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“A coronation…” I murmur, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”
Mórag exhales, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Being the Driver of an Aegis carries… considerable weight. Especially among followers of Aegism.”
We’re all gathered in the room Fan prepared for us. It’s massive, vaulted ceilings, wide hallways branching into personal quarters. Despite the Praetorium’s cold, clinical light, the space itself is… soft. Warm. Like it was designed to ease the mind.
Tora is buried under what has to be every blanket in the room, curled up like a pillow fort is the only thing keeping him from breaking down. “Tora thinks everything will be OK, Rex-Rex! Coronation just means Praetor likes you!”
Mórag winces, slowly removing her hat and blades before sinking into a sofa of her own. “I’m not so sure.”
Her eyes flick to the table, where Minoth’s Dagger lies, still, silent. “He can’t read our next move. So he’s trying something else. A provocation. A test.”
Malos leans back in a chair, finally freed from his heavy armor and wearing something looser. “My thoughts exactly.” He looks at me, sharp-eyed. “You alright, though? You looked pretty shaken back there.”
I hesitate. The words sting in my throat. “When the Praetor was talking… it felt like Mythra was standing there instead.”
The way he spoke. The posture. The cadence. That word, “family.”
Nia’s ears twitch. “You’re probably just freaked out, yeah? I mean, finding out he was her Driver… that’s a lot.”
Dad shifts closer, his brow creasing with worry. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
I bury my face in my hands, the memory still fresh and sharp. “It felt… different. Like I was seeing who he really is. Behind whatever face he’s wearing in front of the world.”
Delta floats gently into my field of vision, her glowing eyes clicking into focus. “Forethought.”
Malos straightens in his seat, the word snagging his attention. “Are you saying Rex saw into Amalthus? His intentions?”
Delta tilts slightly, considering. “Saw may not be the right term. But… heard. Read. Interpreted. Something more instinctive than logic.”
Zeke sprawls across an entire sofa like it owes him money, lazily waving one hand. “Makes sense. Any gift from the Endbringer's bound to be a bit… off-kilter.
Malos snorts, smirking. “He just called you a… not so flattering name.”
Pandoria shrugs, “Bringer of Confusion?”
Pyra giggles, “Stinkinator.”
Zeke groans, putting his arm over his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Nickname machines, I tell you.”
A small shape tumbles from Zeke’s coat pocket, landing softly on the carpet.
Corvin chuckles. “Oi, Zekenator, you dropped something.”
Crossette steps over and picks it up, blinking with delight.
“Is this…?” she whispers, a grin spreading across her face. “A turtle!?”
Pandoria clasps her hands, beaming. “Oh, we have to introduce you to Turters!”
Mórag, her hair now free from its usual updo, allows herself a soft smile. “Ah, the legendary turtle of anarchy.”
Zeke doesn’t even lift his head, just smirks from under his arm. “The one and only.”
Delta hovers over Crossette’s palm, examining the tiny creature. “Fascinating. I’ve never encountered such a specimen… It’s quite adorable.”
The group dissolves into warm laughter, cooing over Turters and debating what color suits him best. But I quietly excuse myself and slip into the room I’d chosen as mine.
I sit on the bed and start unfastening the straps from my gear. I'm halfway through when a soft knock comes at the doorframe.
“Hey, Rex.”
Dad leans against it, the soft glow of his Core Crystal visible through his loose shirt. There’s a quiet concern in his expression, a furrow to his brow that wasn’t there earlier.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound composed. The word comes out thinner than I’d like.
He walks in and sits beside me. “They’re still carrying on in there,” he says, smiling faintly. “Crossette’s trying to dress the turtle up using napkins she swiped from the kitchen.”
I nod, managing a chuckle. “Yeah… Sounds like her.”
Dad sighs, leaning back on his arms. “You know… this is exactly what Amalthus wants. He’s trying to get into your head. Make you question yourself.”
I open my palm and stare into it, empty and quiet. “But why? What’s the point?” I murmur. “I don’t want his throne. I don’t want power.”
“I just want to live in a world I don’t have to worry about losing.”
Dad looks up at the ceiling, his voice softer now. “That’s what makes you different, bud. And that’s what scares him most.”
He turns to me with a smile—small, sad, proud. “You’ve got twice the claim to his title, and none of the thirst. No greed. That makes you a dangerous man in his eyes.”
“It’s what made Addam such a good fit,” comes Corvin’s voice from the doorway. He steps inside with a smile. “Selene practically had to force him to take the chief’s position.”
Corvin’s tone carries that easy, teasing warmth he always falls back on when things get heavy, but his words land with quiet gravity. He leans against the wall, arms folded, eyes kind.
“Addam just wanted to protect the people he loved,” he goes on. “The kingdom, the Aegises… us. Ruling was never the goal. And that’s exactly why he had to do it.”
Dad chuckles. “Yeah. Real responsibility doesn’t belong to the ones chasing it down like it’s prey—it finds the ones who carry it because no one else will.”
I look between them. My hand slowly closes. I can feel the weight of it all pressing in, Endbringer’s shadow, Amalthus’ gaze, the silent pressure of a crown not yet placed, but already heavy.
Corvin comes to sit beside me. “What you’re feeling now? That doubt? Addam felt it too. And that’s not a weakness.”
Dad nods, eyes steady. “It means your heart’s still your own. Not the Architect’s. Not Amalthus’s. Not any Aegis’.”
“Yours.”
The room goes quiet. No ceremony. No divine light. Just a normal, casual conversation. Such a thing feels like a privilege, after so many months of conflict.
Then Corvin grins. “Now, if you do end up crowned as the big Second Arm of the Architect… just promise you’ll give us some cool titles, yeah?” He winks. “I’m thinking something classy. Light of the Architect , maybe.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. “Hey, Dad. If I’m the Second Arm… does that make you the Shoulder of the Architect? The Neck?”
Dad chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “Mm, Collarbone, maybe. That feels about right.”
Two days later, a package arrives at the door of our shared apartment.
Attached is a note, written in the flowing script of Indoline officials:
“According to the will of His Eminence, Praetor Amalthus, First Arm of the Architect, the following garments have been tailored for the Second Arm to don upon his ascension.
May the Voice of the End guide he who has the ears to listen.”
Vandham lets out a booming laugh, clapping me on the back. “Which is real fancy for, ‘Hey kid, here’s something nice to wear—you look like crap.’”
“What fancy threads did the Praetor have made for Rex?” Nia leans over the package, ears twitching with curiosity.
I tear open the ornate packaging, revealing a glass case.
Brighid leans in, eyebrows raised. “I... don’t believe these are mere ceremonial garments.”
“This is…” I whisper, barely believing what I’m seeing. “Armor?”
Dad steps up beside me, helping me fasten the pieces with hands that move automatically, flicking along the straps with practiced ease.
Once it’s fitted, I step over to the mirror.
The armor gleams, almost knightlike—silver polished to a shine, with subtle accents of deep blue and soft purple. Ornate plating wraps my arms and chest, layered over a sturdy tunic with flowing cloth trails that move softly behind me.
At the center of the chestplate is a silver emblem, an ornate design, identical to the Core Crystal housing worn by Typhos, Malos, and Endbringer. It frames my Core perfectly, leaving it exposed, glowing faintly beneath the surface.
The left gauntlet features a recessed slot, clearly forged for my anchor mechanism. Behind my shoulders, there’s even a curved ledge—just the right size for Gramps to perch.
“It... almost feels like something a Blade would wear,” I murmur, turning slightly to take it all in. “It has everything I would’ve asked for. How did they…?”
Malos smirks from where he leans against the wall. “I made a few arrangements. Amalthus just gave the order.”
I smile, faint but grateful. “Of course. That explains it.”
Brighid smirks, “Can’t go without that precious anchor of his.”
Dad grins. “I gave them my armor as a reference—figured it’d help me get it fitted on you right.”
I tilt my head. “But… what’s the point? I mean, sure, it’ll keep me safe, but it feels like... a lot.”
Malos steps forward, adjusting the chestplate around my Core. His expression is serious, grounded. “We need to send a message. That you’re not just ready for the role—but that you’re strong enough to carry its weight.”
I lower my gaze to the floor. “I don’t want to be Praetor, though.”
Malos sighs. “And you won’t be. But having official standing in the Indoline Praetorium? That’s a serious advantage. Not to mention the support from their believers.”
Dad folds his arms, nodding. “Amalthus is playing a game. He’s trying to catch you off guard, to make you look like a clueless kid so he comes off as the only one fit to lead. He wants to solidify his image as the one true voice of the Architect.”
He leans in, his tone gentler. “You’re not trying to steal his throne. But you do need the power that comes with being the Second Arm—if you’re going to protect the people you care about, and gain the upper hand against Mythra.”
I frown. “What is that power, though? What makes being the Second Arm so important?”
Vandham steps in, smirking. “You know how ol’ Mórag can basically call in an Imperial favor whenever she wants? ‘Hey, we need to get to Mor Ardain, ASAP,’ or just gives you that Special Inquisitor glare?”
He chuckles. “Think of that—but tenfold. People will see you as a demigod. There isn’t a fool in all of Alrest who’d dare mess with an Awakened Driver of an Aegis. Except maybe Mythra and her crew.”
He gives me a pointed look. “You’d have the right to call on favors from Indol the same way Mórag does from Mor Ardain, and more.”
Nia grins, placing her hands on her hips. “Just don’t let it go to your head, fancy boy.” She spins dramatically. “Ooh, mighty Rex Origo—descendant of Addam, Second Arm of the Architect, and inhaler of Pan-Fried Tartari!”
I smile. “Do you really think I should start calling myself Rex Origo?”
Dad shrugs. “It is your last name.”
I scratch the back of my head. “It just feels a bit… pretentious, is all.”
Nia rolls her eyes. “Since when is using your own name pretentious?”
Vandham raises a hand with a casual shrug. “My full name is Aquila Paronet Sol Esteriole.”
Nia points at him without missing a beat, still looking at me. “Now that, my dear Rex, is a pretentious name.”
Notes:
If my split chapters like this are truly making the experience less enjoyable, then I really will start making long chapters, despite my own preferences.
But I have been enjoying giving these own moments their spotlight. Lmk if I should stop, or if I should continue as I am. I've been trying to make them longer than they were before, at least.
Chapter 54: Aeshema
Summary:
Rex and Co. follow a lead from Niall to Temperantia to stop brewing war.
Notes:
Woot, here's an actually decently long chapter! I hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“To hold an official station…” Mórag says, pacing in front of me in the main room of our shared apartment, “is to be under constant scrutiny. As long as you bear a title, you bear its weight.”
“You’re not supposed to scare the kid, Mórag,” Zeke calls from the couch, smirking gently.
“If we all approached our stations as you did, Zeke, humanity would have gone extinct long ago.” Mórag exhales, pressing two fingers to her temple.
She’s taken it upon herself to prepare me for the duties of Second Arm, and while I’m grateful… It’s getting harder and harder to concentrate.
Crossette and Pyra are laughing in the kitchen, covered in flour as they stumble through what might generously be called a batch of cookies. Typhos stands nearby in horror, hands buried in his hair as he tries to keep the chaos contained.
Dad and Vandham sit off in the corner playing cards, their conversation hushed but their expressions calm and focused. Poppi is chasing Delta in circles through the room, both of them a blur of motion and synthetic laughter. Meanwhile, Tora and Roc loudly ransack the pantry in search of Tasty Sausages.
Brighid and Pandoria are curled up on the sofa next to Zeke, chatting in soft voices. Brighid doesn’t let her metaphorical hair down often, but with Pandoria, she always seems a little more at ease.
“I’m starting to think Rex might need to feel this out as we go,” Nia says with a small smile, her hand gently stroking a purring Dromarch. Somehow, he’s managed to look perfectly content and regal while taking up nearly the entire couch beside her.
“As nice as this relaxation has been…” Corvin says, detangling the massive feathers in his cape, “It does make me wonder what exactly we’re waiting for.”
“The countries can’t just drop everything to send their leaders into a summit,” I reply, leaning back against the sofa. “Still… I’m not thrilled about the delay.”
Before we can spiral deeper into speculation, a sharp knock echoes from the front door, cutting through the buzz of the room. Everyone glances up. I stand and move toward the threshold.
Cautiously, I open the door just a crack and peek through.
“Yeah—?”
The word catches in my throat.
Standing on the other side is Emperor Niall, smiling gently, one hand raised in a polite wave.
A full regiment of soldiers crowds the hallway behind him, standing in perfect formation.
I stumble back a step, hastily pulling the door open the rest of the way. “Y-Your Majesty!?” I stammer, nearly choking on the title. “To what do I owe this honor?”
I step aside, ushering the young emperor into our apartment.
“I hear you've gotten yourself into quite the predicament,” Niall says with a disarming smile, adjusting the winged crown perched on his navy hair.
“I’m definitely starting to feel like I’m in over my head,” I admit, scratching the back of my neck. “Mórag’s doing her best to help, but…” I gesture vaguely toward the rest of the room.
The chaos is only just beginning to settle.
“Niall!” Zeke calls out, flashing his usual goofy grin. “It’s been too long!”
Niall smirks wryly, and there's a flash of mischief in his expression I haven’t seen before. “No wonder nothing’s getting done, the Bringer of Chaos is here.”
“Who’s this, Rex?” Dad asks as he rises from his seat, stepping up behind me. He places a steady hand on my shoulder, leaning in with a curious squint. “A friend of yours?”
I nod, smirking. “Meet Mórag’s little brother, and the Emperor of Mor Ardain, Niall Ardanach.”
Dad’s eyes widen, but he recovers quickly, offering his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Niall takes it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glances between the two of us. Recognition flickers there, sharp and quiet.
“Are you two…?”
“Regis Origo,” Dad says with a warm smile. “Rex’s father.”
Niall’s expression softens immediately. “I’m glad to see you reunited,” he replies earnestly, then turns as Mórag steps forward, composed as ever. “Mórag told me… what that ordeal became. I apologize for our caution.”
Dad shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m just grateful you all cared enough to keep him safe. I never held it against you, or Mórag and Brighid, for that matter. I only hope I can make amends for the trouble I caused you and your people.”
Niall nods solemnly, though his gaze soon lingers on his sister.
“It is a pleasure to see you in good health, Your Majesty,” Mórag says with a crisp nod.
“You as well, sister.” Niall’s smile flickers with something unspoken—melancholy, perhaps—but it vanishes just as quickly.
“Are you here on official business?” I ask, stepping in. “Or just stopping by to say hello?”
Niall exhales, wincing. “It’s nothing so pleasant, I’m afraid. While yes, I am here for the summit and Ascension, but…”
My posture stiffens. “Is everything alright?”
“Amalthus has made it known to me that the regiment stationed in Temperantia has begun offensive action against an Urayan garrison.” Niall spits the words, his composure fraying. “They acted without my consent, using the uncertainty around the ascension to appease the war-hungry nobility.”
Mórag recoils as if struck, fury flashing across her face. “They did what!?”
Niall bows his head slightly. “Rex… I hate to disturb your much-deserved respite, but I must ask for your aid once more.” His eyes sweep the room, visibly taking in the disorganized peace of our gathering. “Truly, I wish it weren’t necessary, but—”
“You don’t even need to ask.” I step forward, nodding with conviction. “We’re on it. You just focus on calming things with Uraya.”
Relief slackens Niall’s shoulders, and he exhales, the tension draining from his frame. “Thank you—truly.”
We begin preparations. Dad helps me into the armor Amalthus had tailored, the pieces heavy with expectation as much as protection.
“Many will see this as your first true act as the Second Arm,” Mórag says, fastening the straps that hold Malos’ sword to my back. “Though it will be a battlefield, this is also your chance to show the world what you’re capable of.”
Pyra approaches, unease in her expression. “Lady Mórag,” she says quietly, placing a hand to her Core, “I’m worried this isn’t just a political flare-up.”
Mórag turns to her, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Who benefits from war between Mor Ardain and Uraya?” Pyra asks. “Someone’s stirring the flames.”
Mórag’s eyes widen. “You don’t think…?”
Pyra nods. “Mythra and Jin.”
Gramps, nestled snugly into the crook of my armor, pats my head with his tiny paw. “Then what are we waiting for, eh? Let’s get a move on!”
I nod sharply. “Right. Let’s go!”
We burst from the sanctum, boots echoing on marble as we rush through the high halls and out into the low-cut grass gardens. But just as we exit the sprawling cathedral and go to run down the seemingly endless marble staircase, a figure steps into our path.
Fan stands firm, eyes bright with purpose. “Wait! I can help.”
“Fan…” I hesitate. “I can’t ask you to go through that again. What happened at Elpys was already too much.”
But Mórag cuts in, her tone clipped. “Rex, she has a point. The weapons being developed in Temperantia… they’re Titan weapons.”
Fan nods. “Exactly. My power can restrict Blades, and Titans as well. If those weapons are active, you’ll need me.”
I hesitate a beat longer, but her determination doesn’t waver.
“…Alright. But stay close, and be careful.”
She nods once, resolute, and falls in line beside us as we continue our march to the harbor.
“This is…” I breathe, the sight stealing the words from my mouth. “Not what I was expecting.”
We stand at the edge of a natural port, the ship looming behind us. Jagged black stone stretches ahead, sloping upward into distant hills. The terrain is barren, scarred—like the earth itself has been scorched hollow.
“Lady Mórag!” a soldier calls, sprinting to meet us. He stands at rigid attention under her piercing gaze. “Our Titan weapon has crossed the central border. It’s en route to the Ardainian garrison, and it’ll be there under an hour!”
“We don’t have time to waste,” Mórag declares, immediately taking off up the slope.
The ground beneath our boots is brittle, every step crumbling another layer of this ancient, blackened land.
“What is this place?” Nia mutters, eyes scanning the desolation. “It’s like the whole Titan was burned alive.”
Malos exhales, almost wistfully. “Because it was. This was Judicium. One of the great kingdoms, until the Aegis War turned it to ash.”
Brighid pauses beside him, her expression solemn. “The charred remains of a fallen kingdom… there’s a tragic poetry to it.”
“Rex!” Dad shouts, yanking me back with sudden force.
A deafening blast shatters the silence, an explosion rips through the earth where I stood moments ago. Shards of molten stone spray outward, the heat searing across my face.
I stagger, heart hammering. “Wh-whoa…” I gasp, nearly toppling backward. “That was close…”
The ground sizzles, heat radiating from the fresh crater.
“Where’d that come from!?” Nia shouts, recoiling. “You alright?”
I nod, still catching my breath, then glance to Mórag. “Was that…?”
She winces, lips tight. “The battle has begun. We must make haste.”
We push forward, the path opening into a towering cliffside—jagged and sheer, overlooking a vast valley in chaos. Fires flicker below. Skirmishes clash across the terrain, but one sight freezes my breath.
A colossal, insectoid Titan lumbers through the valley, crawling on six spindly legs the size of towers. Its armored thorax pulses with eerie light, veins of ether crackling across its hide.
The thing breathes power. It dwarfs every other force on the field—an unstoppable juggernaut.
Atop its back, a circular platform glows with rings of golden circuitry, humming with energy.
“The Titan Weapon…” I murmur, stepping to the cliff’s edge.
“On its back is an Ardainian Drive Mechanism,” Mórag explains, eyes narrowed. “If we can sever the cables that connect to its legs… we can stop the thing from moving.”
“Lord Malos,” Dromarch suggests, glancing up at him, “Could you destroy it from here?”
Malos shrugs. “I’m getting the feeling Mor Ardain wouldn’t love us blowing up the entire Titan.”
Mórag winces. “I won’t tell you no… but let’s try something a little less… explosive.”
“Fan!” I call out. “Can you stop it from moving?”
She rushes to my side, Crossier materializing in her hands. With solemn focus, she raises it high. Green ether surges around the staff like a swirling storm, then chimes—a resonant, bell-like tone that cuts through the battlefield’s roar. She slams the base into the ground.
The wind howls.
The ether condenses, swirling downward in a vortex of emerald light. Then, with a snap, massive luminous chains spiral into existence, wrapping around the Titan’s legs and yanking it to a halt.
“Typhos!” I shout.
The Blade on my back pulses and shifts. Typhos slams his palm to the cliffside, and ether sparks through the stone. Water erupts in a geyser of light, then instantly freezes, forming a jagged, spiraling staircase of ice that descends toward the Titan’s back.
“Let’s move!” I call, already racing down the crystalline steps toward the battlefield below.
We land hard on the Titan’s back, boots slamming onto the circular platform embedded in its back. The wind whips around us, thick with ether particles and the distant roar of battle.
“There!” Mórag shouts, pointing toward a cluster of thick cables snaking from the base of the Titan’s thorax into the armored plating. “Those lines connect to the drive mechanism!”
Typhos flickers beside me, his outline unstable as he prepares to disengage. I reach back, and my hand closes around the hilt of Malos’ blade, massive and jagged. The sword hums with power, heavy and alien in my grip.
Before I can even take a step toward the cables, a hiss of hydraulics splits the air.
A circular hatch opens in the platform’s center, and something massive rises from below.
A machine erupts from the cavity, wheel-like in shape, its central body encased in reinforced plating. Two massive mechanical arms extend from its sides, ending in clawed grips that shimmer with an unnatural red glow. Its singular eye flares to life, scanning across our group like a predator analyzing prey.
My grip tightens on Malos’ sword. The blade pulses with heat, dark ether flames licking along its edge, but even with its power, the machine before us feels like something more. Bigger. Stronger.
My hands tremble.
“ Steady yourself, ” Malos’ voice echoes through the bond, cold, firm. “ There’s no room for uncertainty on the battlefield. ”
I swallow hard, eyes locked on the approaching machine. “ Can’t you just… delete the thing? ”
A low, amused chuckle hums in my mind. His voice loses none of its menace, but there’s something almost warm in it. “ What would be the fun in that? You’ve gotta learn somehow. ”
“Aeshema’s Core,” Mórag hisses, her eyes narrowing as twin blades scrape free in a metallic whisper. “Tora, keep its attention on us. Zeke, Regis, Rex, you’re on the power lines. Nia, Fan, Vandham, support where needed. Go!”
No one hesitates. Orders from Mórag are as sharp as her blades, and we move like clockwork.
She launches forward, a whirlwind of steel and fire, blades clashing against the armor of her own homeland’s creation with fearless precision. Beside her, Tora roars into battle, Poppi’s drill shield spinning up and driving into the machine’s plating like a battering ram made of light and grit. Sparks fly, the construct jerking and reorienting to face them. The Inquisitor and her Nopon decoy are more than enough to hold its ire. We sprint toward the exposed power lines.
In an instant, Dad vanishes—his body dissolving into a spiral of green ether. A warm wind surges in his place, and a great verdant ring forms behind us, its light soft and steady.
“ Blessing of the Wind God ,” his voice intones from the air itself.
A current of wind catches me, supporting my arms, driving me forward with impossible speed.
“Got it!” I shout, vaulting ahead. I flip through the air, Malos’ greatsword igniting in dark fire. I bring it down with a roar—
“ Rolling Smash! ”
The flaming blade crashes into the power conduit, metal shrieking under the pressure. Ether arcs along the impact point, the plating beginning to crack.
Zeke follows like a thunderbolt. Wind and lightning swirl around him, distorting his outline into a blur of motion. His greatsword hums like a live wire, and in one breathless instant, he strikes, not once, but what feels like a dozen times, the power lines recoiling under the sheer force of his onslaught.
“Eat voltage, junk heap!” he shouts.
Above us, cables snap and burst in sparks—but the machine doesn’t go down quietly.
The platform lurches. Aeshema roars, mechanical limbs twitching, its eye blazing brighter.
From behind, Mórag calls out, gritted teeth and fury in her voice.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it faster!”
Arcs of electricity explode from the damaged cables, wild serpents of raw power lashing out in every direction.
“Gah—!” I grit my teeth, my muscles locking under the sheer voltage. Every nerve fires at once, my limbs trembling. “Dad…!”
The word barely escapes my lips.
Then, like a storm given shape, Dad materializes, his winged capes catching the air as he surges forward, a blur of motion and emerald light. His twisted rapier extends, howling with ether as he sweeps it in a broad, merciless arc.
The wind cleaves the remaining power lines from their base.
The current dies instantly. My body sags, the pain dropping away like a lifted weight. I catch myself before I fall, chest heaving.
My eyes snap to Aeshema.
The machine staggers, its movements now sluggish, disjointed, a marionette with half its strings cut. Sparks bleed from its chassis. The whirring of internal gyros slows to a grind.
Mórag doesn’t hesitate.
She meets a sluggish strike, parrying with ease, and launches skyward in a flame-lined arc. Her form twists in midair, one blade drawn high.
With a battle cry sharp as steel, she drives the blade down into Aeshema’s glowing central eye.
The machine shudders. Its limbs spasm. Then, with a great, grinding thud, it collapses beneath its own weight, mechanical joints locking, ether conduits failing, its core dimming to silence.
Malos pats me on the back, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ay, you didn’t do too bad, kid.”
I cross my arms, still catching my breath. “Would’ve been easier if you just destroyed the thing from the start…”
He rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. Whine all you wan—”
He freezes mid-word.
The air shifts. Malos’ back straightens like a blade, his expression darkening as he turns sharply toward the peak of the Titan’s thorax.
“Too afraid to face us yourself, are you?” he calls, voice sharp with venom.
A tired voice echoes down from above, laced with contempt. “Ugh. I should’ve known it was you.”
Jin drops from the sky like a wraith. He lands with a metallic thud.
“Jin!” I step back instinctively, sword tightening in my grip.
Fan moves in beside me, Crossier at the ready. Her voice is steel. “So this is Jin—the leader of Torna.” She plants her feet firmly, every inch the envoy. “I am Fan la Norne, representative of the First Arm of the Architect, His Eminence Praetor Amalthus. I will be taking you into custody.”
Jin scoffs. “You say his name with such confidence... You really are oblivious. Not just to him, but to yourself.”
I step between them, placing myself ahead of Fan. “What do you mean by that? Why does she think of herself as Fan?”
Jin’s face is cold. Unreadable. “So... you know. That the name she clings to, the life, isn’t real.”
“A little,” I admit. I raise Malos’ blade, its dark flame curling in my hand. “But I also know you weren’t always like this, Jin.”
My voice softens.
“You used to be kind.”
He doesn’t flinch, but I see something flicker in his eyes, just for a moment.
“To me... you and Fan aren’t any different. You’re both still in there, somewhere. Even if you’ve forgotten who you were.”
Malos sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. His voice is low, almost bitter. “A pretty sentiment. But they aren’t the same.”
He steps forward, shadows beginning to stir faintly around him.
“Because Jin chose to become this. Back before the war? He was the strongest Blade in Torna before it fell… and one of the kindest.”
Jin flinches, rage flashing in his eyes. “It fell ? Says the man who sank it!”
“You know damn well Mythra bears just as much blame!” Malos bellows, his voice echoing like thunder. Darkness erupts around him, tendrils of shadow flickering across the metal.
“And yet you follow her now,” he snarls, “like nothing ever happened. Happy as a clam, huh?!”
Jin’s blade snaps up, pointed directly at Malos. “ You brought Torna to ruin. Mythra only landed the killing blow.”
Malos grits his teeth, his rage boiling to the surface. His Core Crystal ignites, an amethyst blaze pouring from his chest like a second sun made of shadow.
The sky splits.
A colossal shape descends from above, crashing onto the platform with a seismic impact.
It stands tall—an obsidian juggernaut wreathed in veins of purple light. Its black plating gleams like polished stone. A halo of golden energy hovers above its faceless head, and twin wings of burning crimson fire unfurl behind it.
At its core… a gleaming Aegis crystal pulses with malignant life.
Pyra gasps, stepping back instinctively, the color draining from her face. “A… Gargoyle .”
The Gargoyle raises its massive, bladed arm and brings it down with devastating force—aimed straight at Jin.
Jin doesn’t flinch.
With a flick of his wrist, he meets the blow, parrying the entire strike with inhuman ease. A shimmer of icy light trails behind his movement.
In the next instant, the Gargoyle’s arms are gone, severed cleanly at the shoulders.
Before the shards hit the ground, Jin’s blade pierces forward—sinking into the glowing Aegis Core in the machine’s chest. A sharp crack rings out as the core splits, the Gargoyle convulsing once before collapsing in a heap of fractured metal.
But Jin doesn’t look at the wreckage.
His cold, glacial stare locks onto me.
No, not me.
Someone behind me.
Then he moves.
Faster than I can follow. Blade raised, silver light flashing through the air, aimed straight at Fan la Norne.
Something bursts in my skull. Not pain, instinct.
The blade in my hands pulses. A white symbol flares into being on the hilt, pure, perfect.
“Monado Armor!”
A shield of radiant amethyst slams into place around Fan just in time. Jin’s blade collides—and melts on contact with the crystalline field, disintegrating into nothing.
Time snaps back.
Fan stumbles backward, wide-eyed. “H-how…?”
Malos doesn’t answer. His eyes flicker between the still-glowing sword in my hands, the untouched Fan, and Jin—staring in shock at the ruined hilt clutched in his hand.
Rage erupts across Malos’ face.
With a roar, shadows burst around his fist as he rockets forward. His punch collides with Jin’s chest like a meteor, sending him flying into the cliffside with an earth-shaking crash.
A sharp laugh breaks the silence, echoing from the top of the Titan’s thorax.
We all snap our heads upward—only to find a smirking, familiar figure silhouetted against the sky.
“Mythra!” I yell.
She waves lazily. “Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m not here for you. Just came to reclaim what’s mine.”
Dad steps forward, fury brewing in his voice. “Mythra! I have half a mind to—”
Her smile vanishes. Ice replaces amusement. “I have nothing to say to you, traitor.”
The word hits like a gunshot.
Nia stares, eyes wide. “Wait… no. This isn’t right.”
Mythra’s grin returns—wider now, almost cruel—as she tilts her head. “The girl gets it.”
“This whole thing…” Nia breathes, eyes narrowing. “It wasn’t about war. It was a distraction. She wanted Akhos and Patroka back. She must’ve gone to Indol !”
Mythra’s image flickers, and suddenly, she’s beside the Titan, kneeling to help Jin to his feet.
“Goodbye, my friends!” she calls mockingly, waving with one hand as the other steadies Jin.
Another flicker of golden light, and they’re gone.
Notes:
I tried to focus more on the characters and world surrounding Rex here, rather than just directly his point of view and line of sight. I hope that made for a more interesting read!
The time slow with Jin was Forethought, if that wasn't obvious.
Chapter 55: Brother Estranged
Summary:
The group settles down after the Temperantian Standoff, and prepares for the summit.
Notes:
Super short chapter this time, but I thought that this revelation deserved it's own moment.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
“We failed you, Lord of the End.”
A prison guard kneels before Endbringer, trembling as if the air itself weighs a thousand tons.
“So,” Endbringer exhales, pressing two fingers to his temple, “my sister just walked in here… and took them?”
The guard lowers his head further, spine rigid with dread. He nods once.
Endbringer’s indigo armor glistens like molten night, a shimmer of cosmic starlight rippling across its surface. He turns his back, inky hair trailing like a shadow.
“You may make amends,” he says, voice cold and even, “by performing your duty. Properly, this time.” A pause. “I should not have to involve myself.”
The guard flinches. “O-of course, my lord! I swear—you’ll never have to intervene again!”
Endbringer glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a crooked smirk. “Good boy.”
He strides out, boots echoing against the dark stone as the guard scrambles to his feet behind him.
I make a gagging motion toward Pyra, who covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“Please excuse our failure, Lord of the End,” Amalthus says, bowing his head.
Endbringer’s form flickers—and suddenly it’s just Typhos again, looking painfully out of place.
“A-aha… I don’t think he’s too torn up over it,” Typhos offers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Annoyed, maybe, but not angry.”
“Awfully merciful of him,” Regis murmurs, arms crossed. “Considering he placed my atonement on their shoulders.”
Rex smiles awkwardly, giving his father a pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If we spent every day trying to figure out what Endbringer wants… well, none of us would get much sleep.”
Brighid sighs, arms folded elegantly. “He’s a personality, to be sure.”
Starlight spills through the glass ceiling of the throne room, casting silver light over Indol’s polished marble. Under that soft glow, even the sharp lines of the architecture seem gentler, less imposing.
Rex turns to Amalthus. “Praetor… do you have an estimate as to when the remaining countries will arrive for the summit?” His tone is unusually tentative. “Emperor Niall’s already here, so I assume the others aren’t far behind?”
Amalthus nods slowly. “Emperor Niall and Queen Raqura arrived this afternoon. They're still working to stabilize the situation in Temperantia. The remaining royal envoys will arrive tomorrow morning.”
He inhales, his next words carrying the weight of ceremony.
“The summit will be held tomorrow afternoon. The ascension ceremony will take place the day after.”
Rex nods, more firmly this time. “Good. Who’ll be attending?”
“The Acting Chairman of the Argentum Trade Guild. The Emperor of Mor Ardain. The Queen of Uraya. The Chieftess of Fonsett,” Amalthus recites, then turns to Zeke, a flicker of amusement in his tone. “And, along with their respective attendants… the recently appointed Crown Prince of Tantal.”
\Zeke flinches, just slightly, but quickly regains his composure.
Rex sputters. “Wait, what? Are you saying Zeke’s Crown Prince again?”
Zeke shakes his head, sighing as he clears his throat. “No, that’s not what he’s saying…”
He pauses, glancing away.
“I suppose I’ll be able to introduce you to my little brother, Zephyrus.”
A dry smirk tugs at his lips.
“Though I just call him Syph.”
“You have a little brother?” Rex orders, now nestled safely back in our shared apartment. “Why did you never mention him?”
Zeke sighs, “Well… It’s because I don’t actually get to see him very often.” He looks down at his palms glumly. “He’s a good kid, he tries to write me occasionally.”
“How old is he?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“About Rex’s age. Fifteen-ish?” Zeke wagers, shaking his palm gently.
Pandoria smiles, “He was so cute as a baby.”
“Wait, how old were you when you were disinherited, again?” I ask, leaning in a bit.
“...Eight.”
“Wait…” Rex says, thinking. “Did your mom…?”
Zeke sighs. “She died giving birth to Syph.” His eyes return to his palms, “I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for that. He thinks it’s his fault.”
His words hang in the air, none of us knowing how to respond.
“Have you ever met Syph, Mórag?” I ask meekly,
Mórag shakes her head. “I've never met him, but he's making a name for himself. I’m told that he’s a prodigy in all things… above the neck.”
Vandham chuckles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s remarkably intelligent, beyond his years in every regard.” Mórag starts, “But he’s not very imposing physically.”
“In fact, I’m surprised King Eulogiminos made the decision to name him the Crown Prince…”
“Because Prince Zephyrus does not seem to have the potential to be a Driver, making him ineligible for the Tantali throne.”
Notes:
Woo, good news! I finally finished my finals! I'm on summer break now, so I should be able to push out some longer chapters more frequently now. I just wanted to get this out today :)
Chapter 56: Summit
Summary:
Indol holds the summit, to warn the countries about the impending threat.
Notes:
Woot, an actually decent length chapter? Pretty happy with how it turned out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
“Are you ready, Rex?” I ask, adjusting the chestplate over his Core Crystal. “This’ll be your first official act as the Second Arm—even if the ascension hasn’t happened yet.”
Rex takes a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel completely prepared…” He offers a wobbly smile. “But I’ll manage.”
I pat his shoulder and return the smile. “That’s the spirit. We’re right here with you.”
“Lord Rex,” Dromarch interjects, his feline gaze narrowing slightly. “You do recall the purpose of this summit, yes?”
Rex nods. “It’s to formally announce Mythra’s return.” He pauses, then adds with a sheepish shrug, “Even if most of the leaders already know.”
Mórag crosses her arms, exhaling with a faint smirk. “An unsettling amount of governance is merely… ceremonial.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing Syph again,” Zeke chimes in, a wistful gleam in his eye. “I wonder if he’s finally made progress toward becoming a Driver?”
Rex glances up at him, curiosity in his voice. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in what kind of person your brother is.”
“If he’s anything like Mister ‘Bringer of Chaos’, here…” Corvin smirks, “Then he’ll be a personality.”
Zeke dramatically brushes a silver lock behind his ear, smirking. “I don’t know if anyone could match my flair, even if he is my brother.”
Our group gathers before a side room I hadn’t noticed before—tucked away within the throne room’s vast architecture. It’s smaller, more intimate, yet no less ornate. A long, intricately carved table stretches through its center, its surface gleaming beneath soft starlight.
At the far end rest two thrones—majestic in design, their backrests sculpted into the form of massive Aegis Cores. The left throne is already occupied by the Praetor himself, Amalthus, seated with his usual solemn grace.
Lining the table are smaller, simpler chairs, still fine, but lacking the grandiosity of the thrones. Familiar and unfamiliar faces alike sit among them.
Emperor Niall occupies the seat closest to Amalthus. Aegaeon stands silently behind him, still as a statue, watchful.
To Niall’s right reclines Queen Raqura, looking perfectly at ease despite the rigid, unflattering design of the chairs. Behind her, to our surprise, stands Zuo. He offers us a subtle, knowing wink.
At the far end of the table, far from Raqura, a Nopon sits nestled in a velvet-cushioned chair. Judging by his attire and stature, he must be the acting Chairman of the Argentum Trade Guild. Likely the one who stepped in after Bana’s disgrace in Mor Ardain.
Beside Raqura sits someone new, yet unmistakable.
He’s small, only a little taller than Rex, with silver hair so pale it borders on white. A thorned, golden crown rests delicately on his head. His expression is calm and intelligent, his ashen eyes flicking with quiet curiosity. He wears flowing robes of silver and ivory, embroidered with an unfamiliar crest that glints in the light.
Behind him stands a towering figure, a woman of immense presence.
Her hair is stark white, drifting weightlessly behind her. A layered skirt flutters around her legs, delicate yet regal. She clutches a flowing white bag to her chest, so large it reaches over her head. A massive golden ring floats just behind her, glittering faintly in the still air. A gentle wind trails around her at all times, ruffling her hair, her garments, even the silence.
Between them and the Nopon sits Rex’s Auntie Corrine, who offers us a warm smile. Vess stands diligently behind her, platinum hair dancing in the ethereal breeze generated by the massive woman nearby. She gives us a knowing smile—but her gaze stays forward, ever professional.
Noticing our arrival, Amalthus rises from his throne, motioning us in with a graceful sweep of his arm.
“The Second Arm and his attendants have arrived,” he declares, his deep voice echoing through the chamber with effortless authority. “It would be my pleasure to introduce them personally.”
We step into the room one by one, our pace slow and deliberate as the Praetor begins the ceremonial introductions.
“Nia von Echell, daughter of the fallen Gormotti Lord Echell. Driver of Dromarch, and of the Leftherian Jewel, Crossette—former Blade of Selene, co-founder of Fonsett Village, and of the Leftherian Government.”
That name… My brow furrows in surprise. The ol’ Praetor’s done his research.
I move to the chair at the far end of the table, seated across from Emperor Niall and beside the second, empty throne, which I assume is meant for Rex. Dromarch and Crossette take their places behind me, silent guardians flanking my shoulders.
“The Nopon Artificer Tora, Driver of the very first Artificial Blade, Poppi Alpha.”
Tora waddles over, grunting as he clambers up into the chair beside mine. He struggles briefly but manages without help.
“The Special Inquisitor of Mor Ardain, Mórag Ladair. Sister to the Emperor. Driver of the Jewel of Empire, Brighid.”
Mórag sits gracefully, adjusting her hat as Brighid moves into position behind her, an unwavering mirror of her Driver’s poise.
“Aquila Paronet Sol Esteriole, also known as Vandham. Founder of the Garfont Mercenaries. Driver of Roc.”
Vandham nearly overflows from the chair, but he takes his seat regardless, somehow managing to retain his grounded composure.
“Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, Prince of Tantal. Driver of Pandoria, Crown Regalia of the Tantali.”
Zeke winks across the table at the silver-haired boy, who responds with a reserved smile. The towering woman behind him inclines her head toward Pandoria in solemn acknowledgment.
“Regis Origo, descendant of Addam. Bearer of his name. Father of the Second Arm, and the first man to claim the title of ‘Blade Eater.’”
Regis settles into the last chair at the table’s end, pride writ quietly across his face.
“And he who stands at the end. The Trinity of Aegises. The Second Sword of the Architect. The one who bears the title of ‘Endbringer.’”
Typhos steps through the threshold.
“Typhos. Subprocessor of the Trinity—he who redefines the End.”
His form flickers. In his place stands the imposing figure of Malos.
“Malos. Core Personality of the Trinity—he who declares the End.”
Malos flickers once again. Now, Endbringer stands there, cloaked in starlight and dominance.
“Omega. Virtue of the Trinity. Lord of the End. The Endbringer.”
Omega? walks slowly to the empty throne, though he does not sit—only stands at its side, silent and watchful.
“ The brat must have decided to take a new name, purely for the drama factor. ” I think to myself.
“The Risen Aegis of Flame. First Sword of the Architect, reforged. Subprocessor of the Trinity—Pyra.”
Pyra joins him, her steps light, her gaze unreadable.
“The Virtue of the Lifebearer, Delta.”
Delta soars silently through the chamber, alighting beside the other Aegises.
“Former Blade of Addam. Wielder of the Legendary… Durandal? ” Amalthus hesitates, the name seeming to taste unfamiliar. “Corvin, Blade of the Second Arm.”
Corvin fades into place at Omega’s side, his hair almost seeming silver in the chamber’s soft light.
“And finally…”
Amalthus exhales, his voice reverent.
“Rex Origo. Driver of the First and Second Swords of the Architect. Inheritor of the Dual Swords of Addam. The Second Arm of the Architect.”
Rex steps into the room.
The light catches on his ornate armor, casting subtle reflections across the marble floor. His presence is calm, composed, commanding in a way that surpasses mere formality. Without hesitation, he ascends the final step and takes his seat upon the vacant throne, completing the circle.
Rex takes a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm.
“While I know this warning may come too late for some of you…” He pauses, steadying himself. “We’ve called you here to alert you to the resurgence of a threat thought long buried—one not seen for over five centuries.”
He turns toward Corvin, who gives a solemn nod.
A screen of light flickers into being above the twin thrones. Mythra’s image appears—her form wreathed in light atop the Titan Weapon’s thorax, a wild, almost manic smile on her face.
“The Fallen Aegis of Light,” Rex announces, “Core Personality of the Lifebearer, has returned under circumstances still unknown.”
The image shifts. Now Jin appears beside the broken form of Aeshema, eyes blazing with fury.
“She has aligned herself with the Fallen Paragon of Torna. Together, they have revived a terrorist faction that bears the same name… ‘Torna.’”
He inhales again, this time a little shakier, but continues with resolve.
“For the safety of your people—and the world at large—we ask that you raise security protocols on your Titans, and remain vigilant for this newly rekindled threat.”
At his nod, Corvin gestures again. The projection shifts to display six portraits: Mythra, Jin, Akhos, Patroka, Perdido, and Phantylia. Each one rotates slowly in the air, their names captioned beneath.
“These are the known members of the Torna organization. If you see any of them, exercise extreme caution. They are dangerous, coordinated, and unrelenting.”
Regis stands, several sheets of paper in hand. He begins circling the table, distributing the printed images to each of the gathered leaders. Each set is received with sober expressions and murmurs of concern.
“If you fear that your nation may be unable to face this threat alone…” Rex says, “We offer you a direct line of support.”
Tora now climbs onto his seat, clutching a small handful of metallic devices, compact, sleek, and clearly of Nopon design. One by one, he slides the devices down the table toward each leader. They accept them, examining the tools with careful hands.
Rex retrieves a similar device from beneath his armor, holding it up for all to see.
“If a threat arises beyond your means, these communicators can transmit a distress signal directly to us. We will respond swiftly and decisively to protect both your people and the world we share.”
Rex places a hand gently over his heart, offering a nervous but genuine smile.
“We all have family in your nations,” he says, his eyes sweeping the gathered leaders. “Yourselves included. We offer this help without expectation—no payment, no favors in return. This is a threat that demands unity. A world divided cannot stand. It falls… into disharmony.”
A soft pause lingers in the air before Emperor Niall raises his hand, voice measured and thoughtful.
“The footage—those images you shared. They appeared to be taken in Temperantia. Was Torna involved in the incident there?”
Omega’s form flickers like a candle in the wind, giving way to Malos. He clears his throat, stepping forward with composed solemnity.
“Yes. We believe they orchestrated the entire situation to free Akhos, Patroka, and Perdido from custody.”
Corvin steps in, activating a replay of the Temperantia conflict. The screen shows the Titan Weapon’s back, then Jin’s appearance, and the sudden materialization and subsequent destruction of the massive machine. Several gasps ripple through the room.
The recording ends just before Mythra’s emergence, sparing the council from the full extent of the chaos.
The towering woman behind Syph takes a single step forward, her voice low and commanding.
“That machine you summoned… what was it?” Her eyes narrow. “For something so menacing, it fell far too easily.”
Syph startles. “Zenobia! Don’t be rude—”
Malos lifts a calming hand toward the boy, smiling faintly.
“No offense taken.”
Amethyst light radiates from his Core Crystal as he projects a hologram of the war machine.
“It’s called a Gargoyle. They’re Artifices, combat constructs, created for me and me alone. They are, frankly, fodder. The weakest of the models available to the Aegises.” He turns slightly, letting the image shift and rotate in the air. “What makes them dangerous… is their quantity.”
He glances around the table.
“Back during the war, I traveled with Jin. We used Gargoyles for training exercises. One alone would never pose a threat to him. I summoned it simply to stall him.”
Syph raises his hand hesitantly. “Um… do you have access to any other Artifices? And… how many Gargoyles can you summon?”
Malos nods. “Roughly three hundred,” he says calmly. “And as for other Artifices…” He pauses, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Not at present.”
He smiles, Core pulsing once more as another hologram begins to form—this one longer, more serpentine, and unmistakably familiar.
“But with your assistance, I might reclaim one.”
Corrine leans forward slightly, recognition in her voice.
“Addam’s Serpent.”
Malos nods. “Ophion, also known as Addam’s Serpent. It’s currently bound to the Leftherian Archipelago, but the Omega Fetter, its control core, is currently housed in Tantal. If I can reclaim it, I can rewrite its programming. Reactivate it.”
He meets Syph’s gaze directly now.
“With your cooperation, Prince Zephyrus… Ophion could be brought back under our command, and used as a weapon rather than a mere guardian.”
Zephyrus rises from his seat, nodding with quiet resolve. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll speak with Father-”
Before he can finish, Zenobia places a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him gently back down, flashing a toothy grin.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. Let me handle the old man. You've got bigger things to worry about right now.”
Syph blinks, then glances toward Zeke, who offers him an encouraging smile and a subtle thumbs-up. The tension leaves Syph’s shoulders, and he nods in return, settling back into his chair.
At the head of the table, Rex rises to his feet, placing a hand over his heart. His voice, though weary, carries the quiet strength of someone who has carried burdens for too long and is ready to share them.
“That concludes all we needed to share with you tonight. Please, rest. Eat. Prepare yourselves.”
He breathes in deeply, eyes meeting each leader in turn.
“Tomorrow, we hold my ascension. It is a significant rite for those who follow the Aegises… but I also want it to be more than a ceremony. I want it to be a celebration. A symbol of the unity we’re building here tonight.”
A soft smile touches his lips, genuine and disarming.
“I hope you’ll all look forward to it.”
Notes:
Whaddya think? Any thoughts or hopes?
Chapter 57: Promise
Summary:
Rex Ascends.
Notes:
The day is finally here boys! I hope I did it justice.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Sir…”
A soft voice calls from behind me. I turn to see Zephyrus, Syph.
He stands with his hands clasped over his chest, nerves written plainly across his face. He’s a little taller than I am, and we look to be around the same age, but he carries himself with a quiet, deferential respect.
“Would you mind telling me how you became a Driver?” he asks, tentative but sincere.
I offer a hand. “Just Rex is fine. And as for how I became a Driver… well, that’s a bit of a story.”
He takes my hand and shakes it, nodding. “That’s fine. I… don’t have anywhere to be.”
Malos suddenly slings a massive arm over my shoulders, subtly grinning. “Why don’t you come by our place? Zeke’ll be there too.”
Syph’s eyes brighten, clearly surprised. “If it’s not too much trouble…”
“So, you became a Driver by getting stabbed in the back?” Syph asks, blinking in disbelief from the couch across from me.
In the background, Pyra and Crossette are in the kitchen. They’ve been in the building for maybe ten minutes, and they’re already orchestrating what might legally qualify as a war crime.
Vandham and Zenobia are arm-wrestling at the table, the wood groaning beneath their strength, both of them grunting with effort like it’s a clash of titans.
Tora is curled up in the corner, fast asleep beside Dromarch. He’d pulled an all-nighter finishing the comm devices. Dromarch sits beside him, tail twitching contentedly as he grooms the poor guy with a deep, rhythmic purr.
Malos tilts his head toward Syph, smirking. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
Zeke slings an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders, flashing him a warm smile.
“Any luck awakening a Core Crystal yet? I know that’s been eating at you.”
Syph shakes his head, eyes dropping to his open palm. His arm trembles slightly.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he murmurs. Then, looking up at Zeke, he adds, “Has there ever been a Prince of Tantal who couldn’t awaken a Core Crystal?”
A low laugh breaks the tension, Malos. The sudden sound startles Syph, who turns toward him.
“You want to hear about a Tantali royal who couldn’t awaken a Core Crystal?” Malos asks, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Syph blinks, nodding hesitantly.
Malos leans forward, voice softening into something almost gentle. “Zettar. Founder of Tantal.”
Syph recoils slightly, wide-eyed. “What? But… didn’t he awaken Zenobia?”
Malos snaps his fingers with a sharp grin. “Now that part? Not entirely sure. But what I do know is that Addam wasn’t the first one they brought my Core to.”
Syph listens, hanging on every word.
“They went to Zettar first,” Malos explains, folding his arms. “As Crown Prince of Torna, he seemed like the obvious choice. But he couldn’t awaken me. My Core didn’t respond.”
Syph frowns, brows knitting. “Then… how did he awaken Zenobia?”
Malos shrugs. “Something must’ve changed. Maybe it was time, maybe it was him. Whatever it was, he found the strength or the clarity he needed. He became worthy. He earned the aptitude.”
A sudden idea sparks in my mind. I shoot up from the sofa and dash to my room without a word.
Rustling through my pack, I find it, gleaming softly in the dim light. The Core Crystal.
Returning to the main room, I recline back onto the sofa with a bit of dramatic flair, crystal in hand.
“So, on our journey through Uraya, we ran into a certain monster,” I begin, casting a glance at Malos.
Malos’ eyes widen slightly, his expression darkening with recognition. “An arachno, but not just any.”
I hold the Core Crystal out to Syph, who takes it carefully, like it's made of glass and meaning both.
“It was bonded to the Blade in that Core,” I continue. “When we killed it, the Blade returned to its crystal… but it left us wondering.”
Syph clutches the Core, stunned. “A monster… bonded with a Blade?”
I nod, leaning forward. “Now tell me, if a monster could form a bond like that, why not a prince? Especially one with the will to succeed?”
Zeke chuckles and ruffles his brother’s hair. “You’ve gotta stop living in your own shadow, bud. Just give it your all. That’s all any of us can do.”
Syph gazes down at the Core in his hands, then closes his eyes and takes a slow, steady breath.
“Would it be alright if I kept this?” he asks softly. “Maybe… if the day ever comes that I can awaken it, I could give it a better life than servitude to a monster.”
I smile, warmth swelling in my chest.
“Of course.”
[NIA]
The ascension, just as Rex wished, feels less like a royal ceremony and more like a celebration.
Banquet tables stretch across the grand atrium, each adorned with food I never imagined existed—dishes rich with color, culture, and care. Every nation in attendance brought something of their own, a patchwork of culinary pride surrounding the room in warmth and aroma.
There’s no division between crown and citizen here. Royals laugh beside commoners; soldiers waltz with scholars. Even Raqura is grinning, caught in a dizzy circle of dancing Nopon.
Across the room, Niall and Zeke erupt into laughter as Syph stumbles out of a mountain of Cloud Sea Crab Sticks, face and hands a mess of sauce and joy. The Core Crystal Rex gave him is now tied around his waist with a makeshift belt, dangling like a medal of potential.
I let out a small sigh. “I can’t help but worry how he’s really handling all of this.”
Mórag’s voice is quiet beside me. “He’ll be fine.”
She pauses, then adds, “Remember, it was only because Rex insisted that Amalthus introduced us as his equals at the summit. Amalthus hardly cared for those he deemed beneath him… especially the ones Rex picked up along the way.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
A rare smile tugs at her lips. “It means Rex let us stand at his side. Not beneath him.”
Regis chuckles, his tone light with a wistful edge. “He even joked that the faithful might start giving us titles, too. Said I’d end up being called ‘ The Shoulder of the Architect. ’”
I can’t help but giggle. “What’d I be, then? The Ears?”
I twitch them dramatically, drawing a laugh from myself before I can stop it.
Vandham, Roc, and Zenobia have taken to prowling the room like a pack of hungry titans, sampling everything in sight. I’m fairly certain Roc has single-handedly devoured every trace of seafood in the building—their beak is more sauce than feathers at this point.
Mórag disappears in a flash, chasing after Niall, who in turn is chasing after Zeke. Some diplomatic trio they are.
Regis stays put beside me, arms folded across his chest, watching the festivities in silence. His hair, usually tousled by wind and travel, is neatly combed for once. He looks rested… but still carries that quiet, aching weight behind his eyes.
“You okay, Regis?” I ask gently, leaning a little closer. “You seem… off.”
He inhales deeply, then exhales in a slow, measured breath. “I’ll be fine. I just wish she were here.”
There’s something about the way he says she, low and full of unspoken sorrow, that makes the meaning click. He’s talking about Rex’s mother.
“Did she like parties like this?” I ask, my tone softening further.
He chuckles, and some of the cloudiness fades from his eyes. “No. She actually hated them.”
He glances down at his hand. That’s when I notice it—two rings on his right ring finger. One silver, one gold. Interlocked, they form the symbol of infinity. A quiet promise etched in metal.
“We met at a celebration like this,” he continues, voice tinged with fondness. “A festival for Addam’s birthday. She was leaving just as I was arriving. We got caught in conversation, and… never stopped. We talked until everyone else had gone home.”
He hesitates, eyes fixed on the rings. Then, slowly, he slips the silver one free, breaking the infinity symbol.
With reverence, he offers it to me.
I blink in surprise, hesitating before taking it from his open palm. It’s heavier than I expect, not in weight, but in meaning.
“That was hers,” he says quietly. “Corrine gave it back to me before we left the archipelago. But I think… she’d want you to have it.”
“Why me?” I ask, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if I’m the right person—”
“You’re the closest to Rex,” he says, barely above a whisper. “If there ever comes a time when I’m not there to stand beside him… will you be? For me, and for her?”
I close my fingers around the ring, feeling its cool metal press against my palm.
“I will,” I say, steady and sure. “Of course I will.”
When Rex steps into the chamber, the room falls into a reverent hush.
He wears his armor with quiet dignity, but a new addition sets him apart tonight: an ornate cape, trimmed in gold and deep crimson, draped over his shoulders like a mantle of legacy. Behind him walk Pyra and Omega, both silent, solemn sentinels. Pyra’s gaze is fixed ahead, steady as ever. But Omega... he has changed.
Where once his eyes were bottomless voids, they now shimmer with light. The whites of his eyes have returned, framing iridescent orchid pupils that pulse with subtle brilliance, as if something ancient within him has begun to stir awake.
At the far end of the chamber, a platform rises, drawing every eye upward. Upon it stands Amalthus, his regalia catching and scattering the luminous glow of Indol’s sacred lights. Draped in flowing robes and bearing an expression carved from marble, he raises his hands with the gravity of a high priest.
His voice rolls out across the still air, deep, sonorous, and absolute.
“We gather here today to bear witness to a prophecy long whispered across five centuries of silence.”
A murmur of awe passes through the assembly. Amalthus continues:
“When Addam sealed away the Second Sword, he foretold the return of the Fallen Aegis of Light, Mythra. But this prophecy carried more than warning. It carried hope.”
His eyes sweep across the hall as he raises a hand toward Rex, now standing beneath the great domed ceiling, framed by Pyra and Omega like living relics of legend.
“For alongside the rebirth of the Fallen Aegis, a counteracting force would rise, a true Driver, forged in trial and tempered in flame. A man destined to awaken the Voice of the End. The Second Arm of the Architect.”
Gasps ripple through the audience. Even the most hardened warriors and skeptical politicians are silent, caught in the moment’s weight.
The leaders of the gathered countries gather in the center of the room, standing in front of where Rex stands now.
Amalthus' voice swells, thunderous now.
“The one foretold stands before us. He carries the Reforged First Sword... and the True Second Sword, restored from the shadow of what once was. With them, he alone can stand against the Fallen Aegis.”
He lifts both arms skyward, voice ringing with triumph.
“Let us honor his courage. Let us name this the beginning of a new era. Let this be the day we choose hope over ruin.”
All eyes turn to Rex, no longer just the salvager from Argentum. In this moment, he is something more.
Rex drops to one knee.
The room holds its breath as he kneels before Pyra and Omega—his Blades, his partners.
In perfect unison, they raise their hands. With a radiant flash, their weapons materialize from pure light.
Omega’s sword is monumental, forged from translucent amethyst veined with living violet flame. Its ringed hilt spins slowly in the air, a pure white sigil glowing at its core—an ancient mark pulsing with divine sanction. The blade hums with restrained power, obeying its master without sound or hesitation.
Pyra’s sword emerges beside it, familiar yet transformed. Still immense, its ruby-and-gold frame glows with inner fire. Where once the blade had been dulled and cratered, silver now patches its ancient wounds. The cracked emerald Core in its hilt glimmers faintly, now stitched with lines of soft amethyst. Not whole. Not perfect. But united, healing in tandem with its sibling.
“In the name of our father, and our sibling lost to time…” Omega begins, his voice deep, ringing through the vaulted chamber like a bell of judgment.
“…we invoke the authority vested in the title of Aegis ,” Pyra finishes, her voice harmonizing with his, filled with warmth and gravity.
Together, their tones merge into one, echoing with ancestral power.
“The Aegis: the Divine Shield borne of God.
Whose strength may only be wielded by one who is worthy.
One prepared to seize the world from the jaws of despair.
”
The blades float, rising until they hover beside the kneeling Rex, suspended like holy relics above a chosen altar.
“
Do you, a man of flesh and bone,
Dare claim this power?
To take up the Swords and Shields of God?
To bear the weight of Alrest itself?
”
Rex lifts his eyes and meets theirs, calm and resolute.
“I do.”
“
Do you vow to carry this strength with dignity?
To wield it not in wrath, but in resolve?
To deliver this world from the disorder and distrust that has long plagued it?
”
The swords rise higher, then gently descend, crossing above his shoulders like a knight’s anointing.
“I do,” Rex says again, voice unwavering.
A hush falls again.
Then Pyra and Omega step aside.
Their voices join one final time—clear, unified, transcendent.
“
We declare the dawn of a new age.
The rebirth of a world long burdened by shadow.
Upon these sacred grounds…
The Second Arm is born.
”
Rex stands, slowly, hands reaching for the twin blades now waiting before him.
As his fingers close around the hilts, a pulse of light surges outward, flooding the chamber in golden, violet, and crimson fire.
He rises to his full height, shoulders squared, now standing alongside Pyra and Omega, not merely their Driver, but their equal.
The chamber is silent no more.
Awe ripples like a tide through the gathered crowd, nations united under one roof, witnessing history reborn in the figure of Rex.
Then,
CRASH.
A shadow falls from the domed glass ceiling.
Gasps ripple upward, heads tilt in confusion, wonder, and dawning horror as a massive orb of iron crashes through the stained-glass dome, trailing smoke and searing light.
It strikes the stone floor in front of Rex, right before the assembled leaders. Niall, Corrine, Syph, Raqura.
A single heartbeat passes.
A pause.
A held breath.
The world is lit as an explosion rings, engulfing us in a song of fire and screams.
Notes:
SUFFER
Chapter 58: Font of the Elysiae
Summary:
At the peak of despair, the flow of water can repair any wound.
Notes:
Sorry (not sorry) for the last chapters cliffhanger lmao. Enjoy!
Trigger warning for blood, death, and gore!
first time writing something this graphic
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
My ears are ringing.
Cinders float through the air like dying stars, drifting in slow motion.
—dy!
My L—*!
A burst of light—flickering, broken.
My skull aches. Echoes of the crash rattle through my bones.
The ground feels wrong beneath me, like gravity itself has tilted off its axis.
“My Lady!”
My dress is torn—the one I chose to keep my Core from catching the light.
I didn’t want to embarrass Rex. Or Mórag.
Something poised, not unprofessional in my jumpsuit, but not too exposed. Not too… Bladelike.
Now, that thought feels a thousand years old.
The curtains—once elegant—burn where they hang from shattered windows.
The stained-glass dome, once the crown of the atrium, is gone.
Jagged glass claws at the sky, gray and overcast beyond.
Ash stings my eyes.
Smoke fills my lungs.
My thoughts are slow, heavy, sinking.
A tiger—a tiger ?—looms over me.
His fur is scorched, blackened at the edges.
He’s roaring. Fangs bared. Body poised between me and the chaos.
I blink. Struggle to focus.
Not a tiger.
Dromarch.
“My Lady! You must rise!”
His voice is raw, wild with panic.
The haze begins to lift.
A pulse of fear breaks through the fog.
I try to stand. The world lurches sideways beneath me.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, I hear the clang of swords.
Screams.
Pyra’s flame.
Omega’s voice.
The ceremony is gone.
Obliterated.
A massive shape looms in the center of the room—its outline distorted by smoke and shadow.
Figures clash around it.
Blurred silhouettes caught in chaos.
Dromarch nudges me again, firmer this time. I stagger upright.
Then—
A flash of verdant light.
A sudden wind, sharp as a blade, rips through the room, parting the smoke in a violent burst.
In the eye of the storm stands Regis.
His formal suit is in tatters, scorched and frayed.
Over it gleams ethereal armor, summoned by sheer force of will.
His Core Crystal glows bright through the soot.
He’s crying.
Ash streaks his cheeks. Tears mix with it, silent and shining.
At his feet lies a broken figure.
Shattered armor.
Blood spreading across marble like spilled paint.
A jagged shard of metal pierces the chest—cruel, sharp.
Before the thought can settle, Regis vanishes in a flash of light.
His warped weapon cleaves through armored men who surround him and the body at his feet, piercing holes the size of my fist through their bodies. Every man who raised their hands to him falls in an instant, Regis’s now blood-covered face begetting no emotion besides rage and sorrow.
Unfeeling. Inhuman.
All around us—chaos.
Men in black armor clash with indistinct forms.
The massive shape in the center of the room is a giant, familiar, maid-like machine.
Rosa ?
Indoline soldiers rush in, meeting the invaders head-on.
My friends—
They’re massacring them.
Zeke’s greatsword is a blur of light and metal, enormous and merciless, tearing armed soldiers into chunks.
His grin is gone. Only a savage grimace remains.
Behind him, a child lies still. Blood smears Zeke’s hands, his face, his heart.
Pandoria kneels beside the boy. One hand supports Zeke with a stream of ether; the other reaches toward the boy.
Only the faintest glimmer of light comes. Not enough.
Her face twists—not in fear, not for herself—but for her Drivers.
Her current, and her last.
Who had given it all for a boy now slipping away in her grip
Mórag is fury made flesh. Her hat is gone.
Twin blades flash red as she plows through the enemy like a storm unbound.
A wounded animal, guarding her pack.
At her feet—another fallen boy. Barely more than a teen.
A Core Crystal lies beside him. Dull. Lifeless.
No more than a stone.
His navy-blue hair is singed, matted with blood.
A shattered, winged circlet lies bent and broken beside his head.
Auntie Corrine is weeping beside the body in the center of the room, her body wracked with sobs.
Vess cradles a dead Core Crystal, tears falling freely.
Gramps smacks the body, shaking with fury as the body doesn’t respond.
Architect above... it can't be.
I scan the room frantically.
No sign of Corvin—his light, usually blinding in battle, is absent.
He should be here.
Helping Rex.
Fighting beside Omega. Beside Pyra.
But if he’s not—
That would mean…
Rex?
I stumble forward, legs weak and trembling—
Crossette appears beside me, as if summoned by sheer will.
Her horns are chipped. Her hair hangs in tangled, soot-streaked locks.
But her hands are steady as she helps me forward, one arm braced around my shoulders.
Through the smoke, Omega’s form flickers—
His noble shape melting away, replaced by a figure more wild than divine.
Typhos.
No longer composed.
No longer restrained.
He snarls—a sound inhuman and ragged—
And vanishes in a blast of amethyst light.
Unchained.
No longer shackled by fear, no longer limited beneath the weight of a vengeful, sleeping brother.
He tears through the towering machine in a single, sweeping strike—
His blade singing with raw power as metal screams, shears, and collapses.
The machine splits apart, its core exposed—
And from within it, a massive blue Nopon is hurled forward, ripped from the cockpit by the force of the blow.
It flails.
Fumbles.
Tries to speak, perhaps.
But no resistance comes.
Typhos lands silently in front of it.
His face blank, emotionless.
Without a word, he drives his indigo blade forward, clean through the creature’s skull.
The body slumps.
No ceremony.
No mercy.
Only silence and the lingering echo of power unleashed.
Bodies line the once-beautiful atrium.
Amalthus lies slumped against the far wall, regal robes stained and torn. He still breathes—barely. Soft, shallow inhalations.
I stagger forward, the weight of everything dragging at my bones. My knees buckle as I collapse beside Corrine, beside him.
Rex.
Lifeless.
Crimson spreads beneath him like a halo turned curse.
A jagged spike of metal—rusted and cruel—juts through his chest, pinning him to the marble as though the world itself refused to let him go gently.
His armor is broken, splintered across his body. His Core Crystal still shines—dim, flickering—a ghost of what it once was.
Visually unmarred, but useless.
It keeps his heart beating.
But what good is a heart if there's no blood to carry?
Zeke and Mórag emerge from the smoke, silent in their grief.
They kneel beside their fallen brothers, their hands trembling, tears cutting clean lines through the ash on their faces.
Brighid kneels beside Mórag, her sobs silent, restrained. Pandoria shakes as she cries openly, the little boy between them now still, forever.
“Typhos,” I say, rising unsteadily to my feet, voice dry, rough as cracked stone.
He stands amid the wreckage, shoulders heaving.
His mask has shattered—his face open, raw.
“I’m sorry, Nia,” he whispers. A single tear slides down his cheek, catching the glow of dying embers. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“I know.”
I kneel beside Rex.
With both hands, I grip the metal shard embedded in his chest—
—and pull.
It comes free with a sickening sound, slick and metallic.
Then, with no hesitation, I lift the shard, this time to be used not as a weapon, but as a knife.
I cut.
Through fabric.
Through fear.
Through the lie I’ve lived for far too long.
The ruined dress falls from my shoulders.
There’s no more need for modesty. For illusion.
Light floods from my Core.
And I let it.
My body shifts.
Hair lengthens, ribbons of silver that fall into twin pigtails.
My ears stretch, sharpen—no longer Gormotti, not entirely. Not anymore.
Foxlike and wild, twice their size. The truth made flesh. The white and gold dress and leggings I long discarded
Typhos stares, eyes wide.
He doesn’t speak.
But he nods.
Zeke sputters. “N-Nia, you’re—?”
“A Flesh Eater , Zeke,” I spit, not with shame, but with finality. “I hid it for Rex. For our sake. But not anymore.”
I nod to the body in his arms.
“Bring him here. If you want to see him alive.”
They don't question me.
Mórag gently lowers Niall beside Rex.
Zeke follows, laying Syph down with shaking hands.
I summon the blade I once swore never to use again.
It grows from my hand like a blooming branch, bark and blossom entwined.
Water flows down its length—clear, cold, and resolute. It hardens into a curved scimitar, edge gleaming with promise.
I reach for Typhos.
He takes my hand.
His Ether rushes into mine like a storm finding its sea
On the hand wrapped around my sword, the silver ring Regis gave me gleams brighter than before.
The memory of my promise burns behind my eyes:
“ I will stand beside you, always .”
I kneel over Rex once more, my voice breaking as I whisper:
“ Please... rise. Don’t leave me. ”
Then, we rise together.
Typhos and I raise our blades.
His Ether absorbs the light.
Mine reflects it.
They swirl around us—light and shadow, dancing in harmony.
A geyser bursts upward, spiraling into a luminous fountain of ice, glowing with mingled Aegis power.
The living gather around, breath caught.
The dead rest at its base, bathed in starlit water and Ether-blessed mist.
The dulled Core Crystals rise from Vess’ and Mórag’s hands, drifting like fallen stars toward the fountain’s second tier.
They hover—still, suspended—until, in a single breath, they ignite.
A radiant azure glow bursts forth, rekindling the life once thought lost.
I can only hope the Aegis’ power is enough—not just to revive, but to remember.
Our voices rise together, carried by the force of the surge.
“ Aegis Unity: Font of the Elysiae. ”
Our voices echo no longer, but the spell remains.
The water cascades outward, streaming from the fountain’s crown in luminous waves.
It flows across stone and rubble, across broken columns and shattered marble.
It touches every lifeless form, even those beyond the fountain’s base.
And where it touches, it restores.
To those not too ruined, not too far gone, it breathes life once more.
But not all.
Those who raised their blades against him, who killed and hurt him…
They remain untouched.
Their bodies lie cold, their souls left to the jaws of the underworld.
I offer no mercy.
Revival is a gift, and they forfeited it.
The light finally dims, flickering into stillness.
I release Typhos’ hand. My own trembles.
And then, I step forward.
My heart is pounding, wild and terrified. Hope claws at my ribs.
And then—
Rex breathes.
A single, ragged inhale.
Wet, heavy, desperate.
But alive.
I drop into the fountain beside him, water splashing around my knees as I collapse forward.
He lies there, blinking slowly, his amber eyes flickering open, dazed, searching.
His gaze finds mine.
And despite everything, despite the war, the loss, the fire, and ruin—
He smiles.
That same crooked, foolish grin.
“I liked your dress,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “But I think I prefer this getup.”
He squints, confused. “Wait… what happened? Why am I wet?”
I choke on a laugh and pull him into me, clutching him so tightly it almost hurts.
“I swear to the Architect, Rex,” I whisper, voice cracking. “If you ever do that again, I don’t think I could handle it.”
He exhales a soft laugh, leaning his head against my shoulder.
“I don’t think third time’s the charm with this kind of thing…”
We stay like that for a while.
No words.
No war.
Just the sound of flowing water… and the steady, miraculous beat of his presence.
“I lo—”
The words catch in my throat, stolen by the sudden sound of Zeke sobbing.
“I swear, kid,” he chokes, cradling Syph like a broken doll. “If you die on me again, I’ll march into the damn underworld just to kick your ass.”
Syph chuckles weakly, grinning through the haze, water lapping around him. “You know, I think you just inter—”
“I don’t care! Don’t do it again!” Zeke practically shakes him, his voice cracking. I can’t help it—laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep inside.
After everything… It’s still Zeke.
Rex glances at me, his smile quiet. He knew what I was going to say.
He always does.
“…Can we get out of the water now?” he asks, voice soft. “I think I’m done with… y’know. Ceremonies. And explosions.”
I laugh again, brushing wet hair from my face. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Notes:
I love them so muchhhhh
I'm obsessed with them ngl
Chapter 59: Heart of Stone
Summary:
;)
Notes:
Heya, Aero here, back after... what, 4 hours?
IM BACK ON MY BULLSHIT BOYS
I AM GOING TO BE INSUFFERABLE ABOUT THEM
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Dying sucks.
Especially when one of your friends might lose every memory you made together because of it.
I lie on my side, exactly where Nia insisted I stay. My eyes stay fixed on the Core Crystal in my hands—the same way they did that night in Garfont.
"I’m sorry, Corvin..." I whisper. Just a breath. A regret. “I failed you.”
He doesn’t answer.
Of course he doesn’t.
I haven’t had the nerve to reawaken him.
My words hang in the air, my sorrow almost seeming to solidify.
“Love, it wasn’t your fault.”
Auntie Corrine leans into the doorway. She looks whole again—alive, healthy. Nia’s healing saw to that. And if it hadn’t been for Vess, stepping in at the last second... she might’ve been like Corvin. Or me.
With some effort, I sit up, resting my back against the sturdy headboard.
“I... I don’t know if I agree,” I admit, clutching Corvin’s Core Crystal tightly. It pulses in my hands, steady and strong. Too strong. “Because I wasn’t strong enough to protect myself, he might have lost everything. Every memory we ever built.”
Corrine sits beside me. Her brow furrows, worry pressing into her face. She places a hand over mine—warm, steady. “Love,” she says gently, “I don’t think anyone could’ve survived that blast from so close. It’s a miracle even the Aegises came through unscathed.”
I bow my head, pressing Corvin’s Core Crystal to my forehead. “I’m just glad they don’t go back to their Cores when I die. At least that way... they don’t need me.”
“Bullshit.”
Malos’ voice slices through the room like a blade. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed, scowling hard enough to melt steel.
“If you weren’t already injured, I’d be tempted to kick your ass just for saying something that stupid.”
“I’m not injured,” I mumble, still not meeting his eyes. “Nia made sure of that.”
Malos leans in, his scowl sharp enough to cut. “Bull. Shit.”
He straightens to his full height, towering over the room. “An uninjured Rex wouldn’t be talking like that.”
I finally look up, meeting his gaze. “How is everyone else? Typhos? Omega?”
Malos sighs, deep, irritated. “You should try worrying about yourself for once.”
He crosses his arms, turning his back to me. “They’re fine. Typhos is... shaken. Omega couldn’t give less of a shit what happened to you.”
I chuckle weakly. “Sounds like them.”
His voice softens a fraction. “Everyone else is okay. Scared. Shaken. But okay.”
He glances over his shoulder at me, and for the first time since walking in, his eyes are almost gentle. “Nia is one scary woman. Her healing... it nearly matches my destruction in raw potency.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turns and walks out.
Auntie Corrine chuckles. “He’s one imposing fellow.”
I smile, just a little. “He means well. He wouldn’t talk like that if he didn’t care.”
[MÓRAG]
“Mórag.” His Majesty regards me from the cot, voice level, eyes colder than I remember. “If you scowl any deeper, it may become permanent.”
I sit stiffly in the lone chair beside his bed, tense as a bowstring drawn and ready to snap.
Aegaeon’s Core Crystal rests on the nightstand, its azure light pulsing steadily—too steadily. Its recovery is unnaturally swift.
But then again, so is his. His Majesty, revived from beyond death’s door. Had he not have perished… it would be Aegaeon sitting here. Not me.
“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” I ask, ignoring his jest. My voice is tight, hoarse—scraped raw by the memory of what this morning cost us.
“I am in better condition than when I woke up,” he replies, studying his open palm as if testing the limits of borrowed life. “But that is not what burdens you.”
I inhale, eyes dropping to the floor. “I lost myself in your death.”
My gaze shifts to the twin blades propped against the far wall. “Seven men died by my hand today.”
He nearly scoffs. “Seven traitors who raised steel against you and I.”
His voice softens. “You are not to blame—even by law.”
“Anti-Imperialists,” I correct, my voice quieter. “The same men I promised you would be routed before our last meeting.”
He tilts his head, offering a bitter, half-hearted smile. “Then you should thank the gods—or your allies—for defying death on my behalf.”
He pauses, the smile fading into something gentler.
“One failure in a lifetime of service, Mórag, does not tarnish the blade.”
He reaches out faintly, as if to offer comfort, then lets the gesture fall. “And it certainly does not tarnish you, sister.”
“A failure like this cannot be washed away by years of service, Your Majesty.”
He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of mischief dancing across his otherwise weary face. “You would presume to tell your Emperor what he may or may not forgive?”
I falter. “N-no, of course not.”
A genuine smile breaks across his face, kind and unguarded, so at odds with the weight of my failure. “If you truly question the quality of your service, dear sister…” He glances toward the nightstand, gesturing subtly to the Core Crystal resting there. “Then perhaps… You should take some insurance.”
My brow furrows, caught off guard by the suggestion. “What are you implying?”
His smile fades slightly, sincerity overtaking jest. “A Blade as sharp as Aegaeon is wasted in the role of a mere bodyguard.”
His eyes meet mine, unwavering. “He belongs in the hands of someone who carries a burden like yours.”
I shake my head, the thought abhorrent. “For the Emperor to forsake either of the Imperial Jewels… it would be seen as abdication. As a sign of unfitness to rule.”
“Then I suppose,” he replies, smiling again, “you’ll just have to wield him in my name. Enforce my worthiness… until I can prove it myself.”
I look to the Core Crystal. It pulses softly, as if listening.
I draw a slow, shuddering breath.
“If that is your will… then I shall obey.”
[NIA]
In the middle of the night, I rise. Restlessness gnaws at me, refusing to let sleep hold me.
Nightmares haunt me—memories of the last time I took this form. Running. Hunted. Fleeing for my life from the very country I now call home. The one I publicly revealed myself to.
I slip out of bed, telling myself it’s just to use the restroom.
But my feet carry me elsewhere.
To his room.
Against my better judgment, I open the door. A sliver of light spills into Rex’s bedroom.
He lies there, clutching Corvin’s Core Crystal like a child with a stuffed toy. Cold, hard… and precious.
The light brushes his face, rousing him from a shallow sleep.
His amber eyes find mine.
He smiles softly. “Heya, Nia.”
Then he squints, his voice tinged with concern. “You okay?”
I freeze, then step back instinctively. “S-sorry. Think I got lost on the way to the restroom…”
Rex laughs gently, not buying it for a second. “C’mon, Nia.”
He places Corvin’s Core Crystal on the bedside table and pats the space beside him on the bed, his eyes kind and unpressuring. “Did you want to talk?”
I waver. But I nod, stepping inside and closing the door behind me.
I climb into the bed beside him. He lifts the blanket, draping it over me with a warmth that nearly startles me.
Under the covers, he finds my hand.
His fingers wrap around mine.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”
“It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for me…” I whisper, clinging to his hand like it might slip through mine if I let go.
He smiles, a little lopsided. “Bold of you to assume I could’ve pulled off anything close to that.”
“You know that’s not what I meant…”
He lifts his hand gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His fingers pause near my ears—now long, tapered, and unmistakably Gormotti no longer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“I-I know,” I say, the words catching in my throat. “Serp figured it out immediately… He almost blew me up.”
Rex jerks back slightly, eyes wide. “H-he what!?”
His arms wrap around me tighter, protective in a way that borders on panicked. “Nia, I’m so sorry. If I knew he did that, I—I…”
I laugh softly, even as his concern remains unshaken. “Rex, it’s okay.”
He doesn’t loosen his grip. In fact, he pulls me in closer, tucking me against his chest. “No. It’s not…”
The warmth of his embrace feels unfamiliar. Unfamiliar… but welcome.
“It’s not like he threatened to kill me outright,” I say, my hand tracing gentle circles on his back. “He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t hiding something dangerous. That I wasn’t a threat to you.”
Rex doesn’t reply at first. He just holds me there, like letting go might make me disappear.
“But… that couldn’t have been pleasant.” His voice is low, his eyes wide with concern—more than I thought anyone could show me.
“No, it wasn’t. Not at first,” I admit. “But after I told him everything… he told me more about you.”
Rex’s eyes widen, and he loosens his hold on me slightly, his curiosity edging into caution.
“He told me about how you adopted that flamii,” I say, a small smile finding its way to my lips. “And how you made him carry both of you all the way to Vess for healing.” I chuckle softly. “That’s when I knew I didn’t really have anything to be afraid of.”
Rex frowns. “Then why keep it from me?” His voice dips with guilt. “You could’ve been seriously hurt in the Spirit Crucible. I could’ve… I don’t know… done more. Made it easier for you somehow. But I didn’t know.”
I reach up, resting a hand gently on his cheek. “Because you already had enough to carry.” My smile doesn’t fade—if anything, it softens. “You’re the Aegis’ Driver, Rex. You’ve got the weight of the world on your back. The last thing you needed was to worry about how other people saw me.”
He scowls—not at me, but at the idea. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? You’re Nia. Doesn’t matter what form you take.”
“Indol doesn’t think that way,” I murmur, barely holding back a laugh at his adorably indignant pout. “Did I ever tell you how I joined Torna? Jin busted me out of prison.” I pause. “An Indoline prison.”
His face twists in horror. “W-what? Why!?”
“Because being someone like me is a crime, Rex.” I place a hand over my Core. “Even if I never asked to become like this.”
He pulls me close again, no hesitation in the motion. “I promise… I’ll change that.”
I let myself lean into him, the weight of years slipping off my shoulders bit by bit. “I know you will.”
There’s a long pause. He’s quiet. Then,
“Nia?” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“I… I love you.”
I smile, pulling him close, resting in his embrace. “I know.”
We lie in silence, basking in each other’s warmth. After a moment, Rex smiles.
“Maybe… this is why I’m the Second Arm,” Rex whispers. “So I can help Typhos reach Elysium… and help you, too. Make the world into a place where you can just… be.”
I nudge him lightly. “Be sure to leave some space for yourself, too.” I smile, teasing. “I don’t want to have to revive you again.”
A small laugh escapes me. “And besides, the world needs to be a place where you can be Rex, too.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Hey, I’ll play the ‘Second Arm’ card as much as I need to—just to make sure we can be happy.”
“You’d better,” I say, allowing myself to fade into the comfort of the moment.
[TYPHOS]
Pyra bursts into my room, grinning like a madwoman and sending my heart lurching awake.
“TYPHOS!”
I bolt upright, disoriented. “Pyra!? W–what? Is everything okay!?”
She giggles like a schoolgirl. “Nia’s not in her room.”
I blink, rubbing my eyes. “Okay? She probably just got up early or something.”
Her smirk widens. “Oh no. She’s still asleep.”
My foggy mind struggles for a second, then the realization hits. A slow grin spreads across my face. “She didn’t.”
Vandham strolls past the doorway, throwing me a knowing look. “Oh, she did.”
Crossette leans in after him, resting her head on Pyra’s shoulder. “She. Snuck. Into. His. Rooooooom!” she sings, then spins off down the hallway in delight.
Malos’ voice rings through my skull, rich with smug amusement. “About fucking time.”
“Language,” Omega chides, though his amusement bleeds through even in that single word.
Notes:
I don't care if it's cliche, I don't care of it's a soppy mess, I FUCKING LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR
IM INSANE ABOUT THEM
Ensue the teasing and AWKWARD TEENAGE ROMANCE BAYBEE
also yes I am going to adopt the understanding that malos swears like a middleschooler after their parents go to sleep ok
Chapter 60: Between Scylla and Charybdis
Summary:
Rex addresses the Indoline public, and is faced with a decision.
He stands between Scylla and Charybdis. Face an unknown threat, or face Mythra without the Serpent?
Notes:
OOooooh my Greek Mythology nerd took over with this one.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
It’s odd—addressing an entire country.
Even more so when that country sees you as an emissary of God.
An emissary who clawed his way back from the brink of death… aided by someone whose kind had been branded a cannibal, a traitor—
A demon.
The ruined atrium towers above us, once sacred, now hollow. Its shattered windows and fractured stained glass filter nothing but the raw wind.
We stand together—our mismatched group—a show of unity amidst the wreckage, standing together in front of the crystalline fountain of unmelting ice. If nothing else, we must give the people some form of answer.
In the days since my recovery, the people’s faith has started to fray. Questions. Anger. Fear.
A man steps forward, a silver Aegis pendant trembling in his hands.
“Sir…” His voice is brittle, strained. “What happened? Why was a holy ceremony reduced to flames and ruin?”
“A joint operation,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain steady, “carried out by remnants of an Anti-Imperialist faction from the Empire of Mor Ardain… alongside a Nopon businessman bent on revenge for our interference in his past dealings.”
Before the first man can respond, another cuts in. “Will you hold the Empire accountable? They failed to contain their rebels. And what of the Nopon? Where is he now?”
I shake my head slowly. “The Empire shares no blame. They, too, were victims of this attack. I will not turn grief into vengeance.”
My hand rises to my heart. I speak carefully. “Those responsible… are now in the hands of the Architect.”
Typhos steps forward beside me, flickering into full form. “As for the Nopon businessman…”
He raises a hand. A sphere of water forms in the air. Then, without a word, he draws his blade—
—and impales it through the orb, shattering it.
A silent echo of what he did to Bana. A message understood without words.
“In this time of uncertainty…”
I speak the words I’ve committed to memory, voice steady despite the weight they carry.
“We cannot turn to others to shoulder the blame for unfortunate circumstances.”
I channel Mórag—her calm authority, her unyielding strength behind a mask of restraint.
“A world divided crumbles in silence. Rather than condemning our brothers and sisters for the sins of a few, we must unite—free this world from the chains of uncertainty… and hatred.”
I turn to Nia and reach for her hand. She steps forward without hesitation, her presence grounding me.
“As I’m sure many of you have heard… those lost in the attack, myself included…”
I let the pause hang, the truth suspended before the crowd.
“…were brought back from the Underworld with the help of the Aegis—
—and a Flesh Eater.”
Gasps ripple through the crowd. The murmur of unease grows louder, like a rising tide. I grip Nia’s hand tighter.
“You must…” I start, then correct myself, my voice growing firm, resonant.
“No. You will set aside your hatred in this moment. I command it of you.”
The words ring out, echoing through the open atrium like a hammer striking steel.
“Just as surely as I am the Second Arm… as the Aegises are the Swords of the Architect…”
I glance at Nia, allowing warmth to rise into my expression.
“She saved us. She saved me.”
I look downward, the memory still raw.
“She accomplished the impossible—restoring life where there was none. Because of her, I stand here. Because of her, our fallen are returned to their families in peace, not ash.”
I step aside and gesture to the fountain—the Aegis Unity’s gift.
Its twin streams weave together, flowing as one. In the light, the surface ripples with opalescent shimmer, as if it remembers something sacred.
“Let these waters be our covenant.”
I draw my sword. My companions make way. The crowd stills.
I approach the fountain, resting my palm over its surface.
Then, without hesitation, I drag the blade across my wrist.
Gasps erupt—shock and concern cutting through the stillness. Blood spills into the water, mingling with the sacred stream in silent communion.
I sheathe the blade. Dad steps forward, wordlessly offering a waterskin.
I kneel, draw the water, and return to where I stood.
Then, with quiet resolve, I upturn the skin.
The water flows over the open wound—
And as it falls to the ground, tinged pink, the gash closes cleanly, leaving not even a scar.
“Even now,” I declare, voice rising above the silence. “Days removed from the calamity… the Waters of Elysium still heal me.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath.
“This is the gift born of the ceremony…” My voice cracks slightly, but I press on.
“Born of someone many of you would’ve seen imprisoned. Executed… for merely existing.”
I bow, lowering my head.
“Please… take this moment as a chance to embrace your neighbor with love. Not with the hatred we've all come to know too well.”
I rise again, heart pounding.
“Thank you.”
Later, with the sun lower in the sky and the adrenaline faded, I slump on the couch, head in my hands.
“Ugh. I’m so embarrassed.” I groan, rubbing my temples. “I sounded like Amalthus.”
Zeke, sprawled on the other end of the couch, bursts into laughter.
“Come on, man! You did great.”
Across from us, Typhos snickers, his voice teasing. “Ooooh, I love my girlfriend, so now you should too~” He mimics me in an exaggerated voice, and I immediately regret everything.
I shoot him a smirk.
“Hey, if they’re gonna start treating me like some divine emissary, then yeah—my friends get official ‘ultimate-good-guy’ status. Deal with it.”
Brighid, seated near the window, lets out a rare snort of amusement.
“Friends. Sure.”
I roll my eyes and steer the conversation elsewhere.
“Anyway… how’s Syph doing?”
Zeke leans back, expression softening.
“Better. He went home yesterday.” He exhales slowly. “Dad’s not very happy.”
I wince. “Yeah… I’m not surprised.”
Nia, seated beside me, furrows her brows. “That’s not good. Isn’t Tantal where we’re heading next?”
Zeke nods, pulling a leather-bound journal from his robes. He sets it on the table and flips it open to a blank page.
“You see, the way my dad operates... if you want a favor, you have to earn it. Even his own kids aren’t exempt.” He exhales, a hint of weariness in his voice. “Mom used to keep him grounded, but…”
I nod quietly.
“He’s angry—at me, at you, at the world—for letting his ‘precious little boy’ get hurt.” Zeke continues, tone sharper now. “And sure, maybe he has a right to be. But it’s going to make things hell for us if we want that Omega Fetter.”
With surprising speed and precision, he sketches the outline of a Titan. It has a large, rounded head, broad flippers, and a shell marked with pock-like holes.
I chuckle. “It looks like Turters.”
Zeke smirks but keeps going, circling the center of the Titan. “This here is Genbu’s core—the capital city, Theosoir. It’s not as crowded as the other Titans, but it’s lively. I’ll give you the grand tour when we arrive. But that’s not where the trouble starts.”
He circles another spot—near the Titan’s head. His voice lowers. “This is likely where my father will send us. Some trial he considers impossible.”
His eyes drift shut for a moment, as if recalling something painful. “It’s also where the Omega Fetter is kept.”
Mórag, seated on Nia’s other side, leans in, her curiosity sharpened. “What makes this mission so impossible?”
“In cases where the Royal Family needs to retrieve the Omega Fetter, there’s a passage through the Titan’s esophagus that leads to it,” Zeke explains, pointing at the center of the map. “It can be accessed through the castle.”
He frowns, flipping his pen in his fingers.
“But he’s not going to let us take that route. Instead, he’ll force us to go the hard way—through the forest at Genbu’s head.”
“So… the forest is the trial?” I tilt my head, trying to understand. “What makes it so dangerous?”
Zeke exhales through his nose. “There’s a folktale in Tantal. A kind of bogeyman.”
He turns to a fresh page in his journal and begins sketching again.
“Not long after Tantal was founded, a creature was unleashed on Theosoir.”
His strokes are quick, rough, but full of intent. A monstrous figure begins to take shape—at the center, a woman’s elegant form, almost statuesque in beauty. But behind her, enormous black wings unfurl like a death shroud. From a platform on her back, several dragon-like heads snarl outward, twisted and grotesque.
The drawing is crude but haunting.
Mórag leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Wait… ‘unleashed’? You mean it was created?”
Zeke nods solemnly. “She wasn’t born. She was made—an artificial being. Unnatural. And immortal.”
He flips back to the Titan sketch and taps his pen against the forest near the Titan’s head.
“According to legend, she fled into the forest after the chaos... and she never left. That’s where she lives now.”
His gaze locks onto mine, steady and chilling. “No man or Blade who’s entered that forest has ever come out again.”
He pauses, the weight of it settling in the room like a fog.
“Parents use her to scare their kids—say she’ll eat them if they misbehave. The usual stuff. But the truth behind the tale... it’s real. Very real.”
I stare at the map, trying to picture the path we’ll have to take. My voice is quiet.
“...What do people call this monster?”
Zeke shakes his head slowly. “Her true name’s been lost to time. But the people gave her a name anyway…”
He looks up, voice low and resolute.
“Scylla.”
Typhos’ eyes widen—but his form flickers, shimmers—and in his place stands the smirking visage of Omega.
With an easy, unsettling grace, Omega saunters forward and drops himself beside Zeke, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“Scylla,” he muses, eyes gleaming. “How fascinating… humanity really does repeat itself.”
He plucks the pen from Zeke’s hand, flipping to a blank page in the journal.
“You see,” he begins, voice smooth as silk, “in a time before memory—in an age swallowed by history…”
He sketches with eerie precision. The image that forms is grotesque in its clarity: a monstrous being with the figure of a beautiful woman at its center. From her body sprout six eel-like heads, each twisted in a lifelike snarl, their eyes gleaming with hunger.
Even Mórag flinches. “How horrifying…”
Omega hums, clearly enjoying the discomfort in the room.
“The tale of Scylla tells of a woman, radiant, graceful, who had the misfortune of loving the same man as a witch.” His voice purrs with delight, relishing each word. “The man, of course, chose Scylla. Her beauty was unmatched.”
He points the pen at me, his grin widening. “So, the witch cursed her. Turned her into a creature of nightmares—six snarling heads bursting from her body. For millennia, she haunted the seas, devouring men and mocking gods, alongside her sister-in-arms…”
He pauses, savoring the moment.
“Charybdis.”
I blink, head tilting in confusion. “How do you know this? And what exactly are you trying to say?”
Omega’s smirk deepens, the orchid glow in his eyes pulsing with amusement.
“Oh, I know many things, dear boy,” he murmurs, leaning in close. His voice drops, serpentine and low. “And you... you’re standing between Scylla and Charybdis now.”
His head tilts, eyes boring into mine with a predator’s grin.
“So tell me—do you brave the sea monster? Or will you face Mythra… without the serpent?”
Notes:
Omega is a supercomputer! There's no way he doesn't know about tales from the Old World! Mwahahaha
I'm excited to introduce.... 'Scylla', she's a face you may already know. ;)
LISTEN TO SCYLLA FROM EPIC THE MUSICAL
ITS A MASTERPIECE AND IT HAS THE VIBE IM GONNA TRY AND EMULATE P L E A S E I BEG
Chapter 61: Tantal
Summary:
The group heads to Tantal, onward to new horizons
Notes:
Woot woot its time for another divergence baybee!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Omega… that pain in the ass…” Typhos winces as he resumes control from the looming figure. “Sorry about him.”
I shake my head. “No, actually... he kind of has a point.” I glance down, brow furrowed. “Is this worth the risk? Can we really take on something like Scylla head-on?”
Zeke shrugs. “If we can’t, then nobody can.” He throws a glance toward Nia, then tilts his head at Typhos. “We’ve got destruction and restoration on our side now. Not much out there can match that.”
I cross my arms, leaning back into the sofa. “Still. Complacency’s how we end up dead.”
Just then, Vandham strolls by, carrying a mountain of cookies—undoubtedly thanks to Crossette and Pyra. Honestly, I might be more scared of them than of Scylla.
The older man chuckles. “You say that like you haven’t already walked away from death’s door. Twice.”
“And anyway…” Delta whirs, her segments spinning softly in the light, “We don’t know how much this Scylla will mirror the one of the old world. Placing too much merit in such a tale could lead to a similar outcome as complacency.”
I nod. “Plus, We don’t know the limits of Nia’s power. Yeah, it’s strong—but if we were torn apart, I doubt even she could bring us back.” I glance over at her, her expression calm, warm. “What she did... It’s nothing short of a miracle.”
Nia nods, her ears twitching as she picks up a cookie. “He’s right. You need the will to live, and a body that’s not too far gone.” She snaps the cookie in half. “If you’re, I don’t know, decapitated or blown to pieces...”
She pops half the cookie into her mouth, chewing nonchalantly.
Crossette peeks her head into the room, mischief written all over her face as she brandishes one of her bombs like a toy.
“So, no more getting yourself blown up, Rex.”
I sigh, smiling despite myself. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t plan on it.”
[NIA]
Rex turns in early. As tempting as it is to follow him, I decide to give him space tonight.
Still, my heart flutters thinking back to last night—just being able to relax, for once. Be myself.
That quiet comfort doesn’t last long.
“Woah, Nia!” Crossette blurts out. “Since when do you wear a ring?”
The shout jolts me, every hair on my body standing on end.
Suddenly, all eyes are on me. Heat rushes to my face.
Pandoria adjusts her glasses with a sly grin. “Already got a ring, huh? Moving a little fast, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t get it from Rex!” I sputter, flailing my hands. “It’s not like that, I swear!”
Brighid smirks, arching an eyebrow as she leans in. “Oh? If not from Rex, then who did you get it from?”
From across the room, Regis—lounging in a chair with a drink in hand—smirks. He lifts his hand and wiggles the gold ring on his finger.
“She got it from me,” he says casually.
The room erupts into sputters.
Pandoria’s jaw drops. “Both son and father, girl?”
My face burns as I wave my hands wildly. “N-no! It’s not like that! It’s—ugh—it’s a long story!”
Mórag reclines back, clearly enjoying this. “Lucky for you… We’ve got all night.”
Regis stands, swaying slightly as he makes his way toward the door.
Right. He’s been drinking with Vandham. That explains so much.
“I’m going to bed,” he mumbles, patting my shoulder as he passes. “Good luck with Rex, dear.”
I shoot him a glare. “I swear—”
He responds by sticking his tongue out and making a loud pbthhh before slipping through the door and closing it behind him.
Pandoria bursts out laughing. “Drunk Regis is... something else.”
She leans in, eyes glittering with mischief.
“Now spill.”
I sigh, leaning back into the sofa. My fingers curl, lifting my hand as I stare at the silver ring on my right ring finger.
“It used to be Rex’s mom’s,” I say softly. “Corrine gave it back to Regis before they left the archipelago.”
Pandoria stiffens beside me, her teasing smile fading. “Oh…”
I offer a faint smile. “Before the explosion, during the ceremony, Regis told me how he met his wife. He...” I pause, the weight of that moment pressing on my chest. “He asked me to look after Rex. In case there ever came a time when… he couldn’t.”
Mórag lowers her gaze, her smirk softening into something more contemplative. “A passing of the torch, then.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “It makes sense, why you chose to reveal yourself. Why you stepped forward.”
I nod slowly, my gaze falling back to the ring.
“For something like that to happen… right after making a promise like that?” I shake my head, a smile pulling at my lips. “There’s no way I could let him die.”
A flush rises to my cheeks, and I glance away. “Not that I would’ve let him die even without the promise. I made up my mind about Rex a long time ago.”
[REX]
“So, you’re really leaving,” Fan says, her voice quiet, eyes shaded with melancholy.
The midday sun casts a pale glow across the Indoline marble of the port, bleaching it in white light. A ship floats nearby, sails billowing gently—ready to take us north.
I nod, offering her a soft smile.
“Don’t worry,” Pyra says, clasping Fan’s hands with warmth. “We’ll be back. We’re… tied to Indol now. It won’t be long.”
Fan looks me up and down, analyzing the armor which was carefully repaired. “Is the armor back to your standard? I tried to ensure that it was the same as before.”
I nod, smiling in an attempt to comfort her nerves. “It’s perfect, thank you.” I reply honestly.
Fan nods, though her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Please… just be careful.”
Malos, uncharacteristically gentle, offers a small smile. “You take care of yourself, too, Fan. And if you ever run into trouble, send word. We’ll come running.”
She releases Pyra’s hands and reaches into her robes, pulling out one of the small communicators. She clutches it tightly, resolve settling over her features. “I will.”
Zeke crosses his arms with a huff. “Still don’t get why she can’t come with us,” he mutters, then looks to me. “It’s entirely possible that Scylla is a type of Titan Weapon, and if it is, Fan’s power could be the edge we need.”
I shake my head. “I’m not risking her again. If it weren’t for Forethought… she’d be dead.” I glance down at my open palm, then close it slowly, as if sealing away the memory.
Fan sighs, nodding. “And as much as I’d like to go… I can’t leave Indol for that long. After everything that happened last time, I came back to a mountain of responsibilities.”
Zeke grunts, resting a firm hand on my shoulder. “Then we’d better not keep the captain waiting. Time to get moving.”
I nod, casting one last look at Fan la Norne before turning toward the ship.
We board in silence, bound for Tantal, and the storm that waits there.
“I must admit… my thoughts are still lingering on this ‘Scylla’ creature,” Dromarch says, burying his fluffy head in his paws. “She sounds truly… formidable.”
“Zeke! Does Scylla eat Nopon?!” Tora asks, flapping his wings in panic. “Tora must make clear—Tora not tasty!”
Zeke shrugs. “Well, Tantal doesn’t have any Nopon.”
Tora exhales in relief. “Ahh. Then Scylla won’t think to eat Nopon. Very good.”
Zeke grins, snatching Tora and shaking him lightly. “That’s because Scylla already ate all of them!”
Tora screeches in horror, but his cries are quickly swallowed by the group’s laughter.
“Tora thinks this joke is not funny,” he puffs, crossing his little arms.
Malos snorts. “It’s pretty funny.”
“Why Malos so mean? Tyty is much nicer!” Tora scowls, offended.
Malos pats his head with an infuriating smirk. “The world may never know, big guy.”
“It… looks like Uraya,” I whisper, climbing the grassy slope of the hill.
All around us, monsters roam lazily, Anloods clashing in slow, rhythmic duels, while Pippitos dig and scurry in search of treasure. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d somehow been knocked out and dropped straight into the Urayan Titan’s stomach.
Zeke smirks, clearly pleased by my reaction. “Of course it does, chum! Genbu’s the same Titan type as Uraya. Old guy’s Ether flow isn’t quite as strong, but you’ll see a lot of overlap.” He gazes up, his expression softening with pride. “This area’s called the Litharia Grasslands. Keep climbing, and we’ll reach Theosoir soon.”
We push onward, the path narrowing into a cliffside trail. It overlooks a vast valley below, expansive and alive, reminiscent of the Cobalt Cliffs back in Uraya. Off in the distance, in the center of the valley, multiple titanpeds in the distance, a massive boulder pulses with Ether, launching skyward in bursts of light into a stone platform above—again and again, a rhythmic beat echoing across the land.
Perched atop that platform, half-cloaked in mist and shimmering Ether light, a city stretches out—ancient and regal. It’s carved from dark, weathered stone, its architecture a fusion of natural cliff and precise design. The city seems grown from the mountain itself, not simply built upon it. Something about it pulls at me—familiar, but untouched.
Scattered across the cliffs, towering trees rise high above us. Their azure leaves glow like starlight, each petal gleaming like fragments of Core Crystals.
“They’re like… Blue Saffronias,” Nia whispers, her face lit by the ethereal glow.
Pandoria grins, hands on her hips, clearly delighted. “They’re called Cardonias. Kind of like distant cousins to Uraya’s Saffronias. Only grow here, on Genbu—nowhere else in Alrest.”
I smile. “They almost look like your sword, Nia.”
She turns, her eyes lighting up. “You think so?”
With a flicker of Etherlight, she summons her weapon. The sword stretches and grows in her grip like a living branch, its form elegant and natural. She holds it up toward the trees. “Huh… I suppose it kind of does.”
Tora leaps into the air, flapping his wings excitedly. “Cardo-Nia!”
Nia laughs, foxlike ears twitching happily. “Didn’t know Nia was short for anything!”
We walk on in silence for a while, simply soaking in the surroundings. I hadn’t realized how much I missed Uraya’s gentle landscape, its softness and vitality. Tantal’s grassy expanses feel like a breath of fresh air in all the best ways.
“You see that?” Malos’s voice echoes gently through our link, almost reverent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile like that.”
“You think?” I respond, my own smile coming unbidden. “It’s… nice. Seeing her so carefree.”
As we reach the crest of the hill, the path gives way to a natural stone bridge, arching across to the looming platform where Theosoir is built. The wind shifts as we step forward, carrying with it the faint scent of mineral and pollen.
Mórag halts in her tracks as Theosoir’s massive gate comes into view—carved directly from the mountainside, towering, regal.
“My word…” she breathes, her usually measured tone full of awe. “It’s the very image of the ancient civilizations I studied. Untouched, preserved…”
Malos steps up beside her, his eyes narrowing with recognition. “It… looks like Auresco.”
Zeke, basking in our amazement, smirks wide. “Told you, didn’t I? We’re descended from old Tornans. Our architecture—our everything—draws from their legacy.”
Zeke leads us proudly into Theosoir, the stone beneath our feet echoing softly with each step. The entire city is carved from dark, weathered rock—some of it scorched black by time or flame, giving the place a rugged, ancient grandeur. The streets wind organically around the mountain’s natural curves, like the veins of the Titan itself.
At the heart of the city stands a massive Ether conduit. Brilliant, emerald light pulses within the crystalline core, spiraling upward in rhythmic waves. Thick, metallic cables stretch out from the conduit like roots, threading through the city and disappearing into the rock beyond.
Surrounding the conduit is a sprawling market square, bustling with life. The vendors beam with pride, their stalls brimming with glowing fruits, fabrics that shimmer like starlight, and countless handcrafted goods—carvings, jewelry, and intricate tapestries that feel alive with culture.
“Whoa…” Nia murmurs, ears twitching as her eyes dart from stall to stall. “That’s a pretty lively market…”
Zeke nods, his grin never fading. “Told you. Genbu’s got terrible Ether circulation, so it tends to pool in places—like the boulder you saw earlier. It can be dangerous if it’s not managed.”
He gestures upward at the vast network of cables crisscrossing the sky. “That’s where these come in. We use them to redistribute the Ether. Some of it goes back into Genbu’s systems to keep him stable. The rest? We channel it into Core Chip forges, agriculture, industry—you name it.”
As we walk deeper into the city, Zeke waves at the vendors like an old friend, chuckling with kids who race past him without a care. Still, his lecture continues, warm and animated.
“We discovered a while back that Ether’s great for farming if you do it right. It can stimulate crops, make them grow faster—and sometimes, they even absorb a bit of the Ether themselves.” He tosses a small bag of gold to a nearby vendor, then hands each of us a pear-like fruit that glows faintly green. “Try it. These are called Lumipears.”
I take a bite—the texture is crisp, the taste somewhere between citrus and honey.
Zeke continues, “Ether’s also infused into special threads for weaving. Artists and seamsters come from all over Alrest for it. Between that and Core Chips, we’ve built an entire economy around it.”
Vandham chuckles deeply. “Never took you for an economist, shellhead.”
Zeke lets out a barking laugh. “It was my job to know this stuff—back before I got myself disinherited.” His smile dims slightly as he glances up at the Ether-lit cables above. “After that, though… it stopped being duty and started being passion. I figured… maybe I’d be able to help Syph out when he takes the throne.”
His voice trails off as he continues ahead, still chatting idly about Ether refinement—how Tantal’s smiths have perfected the art of forging top-grade Core Chips, and how their distribution keeps the economy thriving.
Before long, we arrive at a towering structure that blends almost seamlessly with the rest of the city’s architecture. Sword-like Ether supports—shimmering with a vibrant, green glow—brace the ceiling above, leading into a rectangular archway that opens directly into the palace’s throne room.
Zeke marches forward with all the confidence of a man returning home, unbothered and unbent. We follow close behind.
The throne room is carved from the same austere, gray stone that defines the city, but its vastness gives it a solemn majesty. The ceiling stretches skyward, supported by thick pillars pulsing softly with etherlight. In the center, on a dais raised slightly above the stone floor, sits the throne.
And upon it—an imposing figure.
The King of Tantal is an enormous man, broad-shouldered and muscle-bound, as if carved from the mountain itself. His long crimson hair falls in thick waves down his back, a jagged, thornlike circlet of black steel resting atop his brow. His hands tighten around the arms of the throne, every vein in his forearms pronounced through the loose, gray fabric of his royal robes—robes that match those of his sons.
At his right stands Zenobia, her expression unreadable, arms crossed. Her massive axe is embedded in a pedestal beside the throne like a warning, humming faintly with dormant power.
At his left is Syph, offering us a small wave—one tempered with the practiced restraint of nobility. Excitement flickers in his eyes, but the imposing presence of his father keeps his posture stiff and formal.
Looking between Zeke and Syph, and then at the king, the contrast is striking. Beyond their matching attire and the glint of their eyes, there is little family resemblance. It’s clear both sons take after their mother—at least in appearance.
Zeke doesn’t flinch under the king’s intense stare. He simply places his hands on his hips and grins.
“Hey, old man. Miss me?”
Malos and I step forward in unison, placing ourselves protectively before Zeke. We kneel.
“It is an honor,” I say, my voice tight beneath the weight of his gaze.
The King of Tantal studies me for a moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and thunderous—like stone grinding against stone.
“So this… is the Second Arm.”
He spits the words like venom, each syllable laced with disdain. “Your reputation precedes you.”
He makes it sound like a curse.
I bow my head lower. “I… apologize for what transpired at the ascension, Your Majesty. The events were—regrettable. And I did not emerge from them unscathed.”
Zeke steps forward abruptly and hauls me to my feet, his hand firm on my shoulder as he glares daggers into his father’s eyes.
The king smirks.
It’s faint, but unmistakable—and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of Zeke in him. The resemblance lies not in the face, but in the fire.
“So I’ve heard,” the king says. Then his eyes fix on me with renewed intensity. “Tell me… which Blade was it who defied death? Who tore you—and my son—back from the abyss?”
Nia steps forward and kneels beside me, her expression calm and resolute.
The king’s expression shifts. Not softer, but steadier. “You, my dear,” he rumbles, “and you alone, have earned my respect. You saved my heir. That will not be forgotten.”
Then he rises.
In one fluid motion, he wraps a single hand around the haft of the colossal axe beside his throne, and lifts it as though it were nothing more than a stick of driftwood.
He points the weapon at me.
“You,” he booms, voice echoing through the vaulted chamber, “must earn that same respect.”
With a flourish, he sweeps the massive blade to his side—displacing a gust of wind so powerful it nearly knocks me backward.
“Show me what you are,” he declares, the challenge unmistakable. “Prove your worth—or be sent crawling back to Asphodel once more.”
Notes:
Here, I will justify my changes to tantal:
The reason why tantal was a snowy wasteland and not more like uraya in the base game was because of Indol's extortion. They were forced to put ALL of their ether towards core chips, in order to keep the fact that the royals were not descended from Addam hidden.
The world already knows that Addam lived in leftheria in this, so there's nothing for the tantali to hide. Indol has nothing to extort them with, so they can safely choose to put a lot of the ether they are forced to harvest by the titan's poor circulation(this is canon) back into the titan, making the environment not so inhospitable.
It is also canon that genbu is the same type of titan as urayas titan, so it stands to reason that if it were healthy, which it is this time around, it would look like Uraya.
So, I took some liberties, but I do believe it holds up in canon. Hopefully this makes sense lol.
Chapter 62: Scorn of a King
Summary:
Eulogiminos and Zenobia test the mettle of the Aegis and his Driver.
Notes:
I'm pretty happy with how this turned out, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Zenobia breaks into an uncanny smile, stepping forward to take the colossal axe from her Driver’s outstretched hand.
The moment her fingers close around the haft, the wind surges.
It howls through the throne room, reaching us even beneath the vaulted ceiling. Banners snap. Dust scatters.
I reach out, steadying Nia as the gusts grow violent, cyclonic.
Then Zenobia speaks—and her voice cuts through the storm like a blade through bone.
“Hahaha!”
The laugh is wrong. Off. It echoes with a force that gnaws at the edge of reason. “Your fate can only be decided with your sword, boy!”
Before I can move, the king slams his hand down on a panel beside his throne.
A deep, mechanical groan rumbles from above, louder than the storm.
I look up.
The ceiling is splitting apart—massive stone plates parting like gates, revealing the now storm-choked skies above Tantal. A cyclone forms beneath me, Ether-charged winds roaring to life.
“Rex!” Zeke cries out, reaching—
But the wind catches me.
My feet leave the ground.
And I am launched skyward, swallowed by the storm.
I land hard on cold stone, the impact rattling through my bones, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Behind me, Nia and Malos descend in practiced formation—feet gliding to a soft landing with the kind of grace I can’t quite manage. I push myself upright, chest heaving.
We stand atop a vast platform, suspended high above Theosoir. The wind screams around us, its fury barely contained by the barrier of Ether flickering at the platform’s edge. Every gust feels like it could peel the skin from my bones, shred me into vapor.
“Just where are we?” Gramps asks, stirring from his perch in my armor. “Is… this platform floating?”
Across from us, the air warps.
Eulogiminos descends in silence, his massive form carried effortlessly by the currents Zenobia commands. His robes billow like banners in the gale, a seemingly normal greataxe strapped to his back. He lands with the quiet finality of a guillotine drop.
Then Zenobia follows, crashing down in a controlled explosion of force, her great axe slung across her shoulder like a promise of pain.
The storm howls.
The king straightens to his full, towering height. His eyes fix on me, not with anger. Not even disdain.
Just expectation.
Zenobia strolls forward with unsettling calm, each step echoing with weightless confidence. Her smile splits wider, manic and gleaming, as she twirls her colossal axe like it were nothing more than a feather caught in the wind.
“I challenge you, Aegis!” she shouts with glee, bouncing slightly on her toes like a predator trembling with anticipation.
Gramps furrows his brow, confused. “What? I thought this was a test for Rex.”
From behind Zenobia, Eulogiminos speaks, his voice cold and measured. “In the end, the Blade will always reflect the heart of its Driver.” He shifts slightly, tilting his head just enough to let the smirk bleed through. “So, face us, Second Arm. Blade against Blade, Driver against Driver...”
A beat.
He cocks his head to the side. “If you or your Blade can defeat either of us in combat… then I will consider your sins to be repaid.”
The offer hangs in the air, utterly absurd. Malos fighting alone? Against Zenobia?
I step forward, the answer already forming on my tongue. “No, we fig—”
A crystalline hum interrupts me, shimmering across the platform like an arrow loosed from nowhere. A radiant burst of violet Ether erupts beside me, illuminating the sky like a new star.
Omega steps forward from the light, calm and poised, the Ether-forged blade in his hand gleaming with impossible sharpness.
“I accept your challenge, Lady of the Winds ,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving Zenobia. He spares me only a flicker of a glance, sly and knowing. “Let’s see what a Crown Jewel really has to offer.”
I whirl around. “Omega! What are you—”
But before I can finish, Nia’s hand grips my arm gently. I look at her. Her face is serious, but her gaze is steady, trusting.
“Let him,” she says softly. “If he wants to do this… then let him.”
Nia steps forward, eyes locked on Eulogiminos with an unwavering stare. “Why am I here?” she asks, voice cool and edged with suspicion. “You could’ve left me down below, yet here I am.”
Eulogiminos meets her gaze without blinking. “As a show of goodwill,” he replies calmly, “a thank-you, if you will. I offer you a choice.” He lifts one hand slightly, as if presenting her with a gift. “You may fight at the Second Arm’s side—against me.”
She doesn’t hesitate for even a second.
Without a word, she throws out her arm, and in a flash of Etherlight, a pink-hued Azure Core Crystal materializes in her palm.
A hilt begins to form around the crystal, and then the blade. First, a smooth, cerulean rod, then twisting branches of pale wood coil around it, shaping it like the limb of a tree in bloom.
She walks up to me, eyes steady, and places the sword in my outstretched hand.
As my fingers close around the hilt, the Core responds.
Water bursts forth from the encircling branches, streaming outward in a spiral before hardening into a gleaming double-edged blade—liquid in motion, solid in form, alive in my grip.
I draw my own sword with my left hand, its steel in tune with the other.
Now, with Nia’s Blade in my right and my own in my left, I face the King of Tantal as he reaches back, gripping the massive greataxe slung across his shoulders.
Omega laughs, his long, inky hair snapping in the gale. “How fun! Why don’t we… set the stage?”
He snaps his fingers, and the stone beneath us trembles. A sharp fissure cracks down the platform’s center. The entire surface splits in an instant, massive chunks of stone drifting apart like tectonic plates. Nia, Eulogiminos, and I are carried away on one half, while Omega and Zenobia remain on the other.
“We wouldn’t want to worry about hurting our precious Drivers now, would we, my dear?” Omega purrs, voice nearly drowned by the howling winds. His smile splits wider, almost too wide, orchid eyes gleaming with something unhinged. “Let’s dance.”
A crystalline veil erupts between the platforms, locking the two duels out of sight from one another.
Eulogiminos raises an eyebrow at the spectacle but shows no further emotion. “That one’s… a personality, isn’t he?”
I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes. “Tell me about it.”
Eulogiminos pulls the greataxe from where it hangs on his back, its immense weight seemingly meaningless in his grip. He regards me with cold, unblinking certainty.
“Let’s see…” he growls, gripping the weapon tighter, his crimson hair whipping in the wind. “If the weight of the world has crushed your resolve!”
[ZEKE]
“Syph!” I bark, storming up the pedestal beside the throne. “What’s going on? Where did Dad take them!?”
Syph flinches, shrinking under my glare. His eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I-I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me what he was planning.” He steps forward, voice cracking. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t Rex’s fault, I promise.”
My anger wavers.
This isn’t on Syph. No point in laying into him.
I sigh and press my fingers to my temple. “This wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought he’d send the kid after Scylla.”
Syph’s eyes go wide. He takes a half-step back. “Scylla!?”
Regis steps up, body taut with tension. “Where do you think he took them, Zeke? Is there anything we can do?”
I shake my head slowly. “Not sure. And even if we knew... I doubt we could get there in time.”
Syph nods solemnly. “Well… knowing Father, this won’t be the only task he gives him.” He winces, like the words themselves taste wrong. “This is just penance—for the ‘disrespect’ of letting me die.”
He looks up at me, his resolve hardening behind glassy eyes.
“It’s entirely likely that he’ll have to complete something else to earn the Omega Fetter.”
Pandoria sighs. “So… Scylla’s still on the table.”
[OMEGA]
Zenobia laughs, swirling through the air on unseen winds.
As easy as it would be to reshape the laws of nature…
What fun would that be?
“ You mustn’t underestimate this foe, Omega, ” Delta whispers. Her voice trails like silk across my mind, urging caution. “ Do not let your confidence be your downfall. ”
I roll my eyes. “ You act as if she poses a real threat. ”
“ You don’t know what she’s capable of, ” Typhos hisses. His tone is more annoyed than alarmed. “ These winds… this platform… none of this is within the range of an ordinary Blade. ”
He’s not wrong.
My curiosity is piqued.
“Tell me, Zenobia,” I ask, tilting my head. “Is this arena your doing? These winds?”
Zenobia grins, cocking her head like a curious bird. Her axe spins lazily through the air, slicing at phantom foes. “Of course. Though not from my current iteration.” Her voice turns almost dreamy. “One of my former Drivers used my power to create the perfect arena for my… tests.”
Malos hums inside me, dry and sharp. “ So she’s the one who decided to test Rex. Eulogiminos is just playing along. ”
I extend my arm with a flourish, fingers curling in a single, beckoning motion.
“Well then… En garde, my dear.”
[REX]
Eulogiminos wheels around without warning, swinging the blunt end of his greataxe in a wide arc toward my ribs.
I barely have time to think—I throw myself back, boots scraping stone as the weapon whistles past me with crushing force.
He doesn’t stop.
He pivots with terrifying grace, using the momentum, bringing the axe down in a brutal overhead smash.
I raise both blades instinctively, steel in one hand, living water in the other. They meet his axe mid-swing with a thunderous clash.
The impact is staggering.
The edge of his axe bites into Nia’s flowing blade, the water hardening just enough to slow it, barely. The sheer weight drives both swords together, forcing them down toward me.
My knees buckle.
My arms scream under the pressure.
The weight is inhuman, a mountain pressing down through that weapon.
My vision blurs at the edges, but I grit my teeth and hold.
And this is without a Blade?
Nia shouts, her voice sharp over the wind. The Affinity Link between us flares—brilliant and burning.
Ether floods my limbs, strengthening them.
I push up, screaming with effort. My swords rise in defiance, and Eulogiminos' axe slips free under the strain. I surge forward.
With a swift pivot, I twist my blades, sending a coiled wave of pressurized water slicing through the air.
“Hydro Blast!”
The torrent slams into the king, staggering him a half-step. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
I don’t waste it—I sheath my steel blade in one motion, firing my anchor straight for his leg.
The cable shoots out, metal teeth hooking around his calf.
I yank hard.
He doesn’t move.
“What—?”
With a single, deliberate swing, Eulogiminos cleaves through the cable. The snap sounds like a thundercrack.
The severed tether whips back, catching me across the face like a steel lash.
“Ah—!”
I stagger, vision swimming.
Then I see him—already mid-charge.
The broadside of his axe slams into my chest like a battering ram.
The sky flips.
Stone grinds against my back as I skid across the platform, sword flying from my hands.
I hit the ground hard.
“Get up!” Gramps shouts, his voice full of urgency, but even he winces.
“Urgh—”
Pain pulses through my cheek, already swelling where the anchor snapped back.
Nia is there in an instant, her arms under mine, hauling me upright.
She presses her sword into my hand again, then touches my face gently.
A soothing chill spreads from her palm, numbing the pain. Ether.
“You need to be more careful,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost scolding.
Then, quieter still:
“Look at how he’s holding it.”
I follow her gaze.
Eulogiminos stands at the center of the platform, his axe resting in his grip backward.
The blade points toward him, not me.
My chest tightens.
“He’s using the blunt edge,” Nia whispers, eyes narrowing. “He’s holding back.”
The wind howls.
Then, the king’s voice cuts through it like a blade:
“It’s rude to gossip in front of an opponent, boy.”
I inhale, steadying myself before my opponent.
“My apologies,” I say, tightening my grip on both swords. “We can continue.”
[OMEGA]
“Monado Miasma.”
The command echoes through the wind as my crystalline blade arcs with fluid grace.
From the air, serpents of shadow and ash slither into being, writhing with malicious intent as they surge toward my weightless adversary.
“Small fry!” Zenobia cackles, gales spiraling around her. With a whirl of her axe, she slices through the constructs like paper, windblades howling in their wake.
She’s fast—blindingly so.
But not unreachable.
“Monado Armor.”
The command flares from my sword’s circular hilt, amethyst light radiating outward.
A crystalline barrier snaps into place around me, refracting the storm with shimmering force.
Zenobia crashes into it with a furious swing, her axe dissolving against the shield in a spray of Ether.
When the barrier drops, I step forward from the dust, untouched.
She glares, hurling the warped weapon aside and conjuring a new one from her core in a burst of turquoise wind. She levels it at me.
“What’s the point of summoning a sword if you’re not going to use it?!” she spits. “It’s no better than a book of spells!”
I let out a low laugh, the kind that hums with cruel delight.
“Oh, but my dear Zenobia,” I purr, brushing my hair back as my barrier fades into glimmering dust, “why would I waste energy when you’re so eager to burn yours for me?”
The wind howls between us, tension crackling in the air like a wire pulled taut.
“My sword,” I raise it delicately, like a conductor lifting a baton, “ is a book of spells. But unlike your blunt theatrics…” I let the blade hum with amethyst energy once more, a glyph shimmering in its center like ancient script. “When used correctly, it could be used to rewrite reality itself.”
Zenobia scoffs, spinning her axe in her hand. “Then I hope your reality includes getting wrecked, pretty boy!”
She lunges again, faster, sharper, no hesitation this time.
And yet…
“Monado Speed.”
The command pulses like a heartbeat.
I vanish from her arc of attack, stepping past her like wind through leaves. She sails by, off-balance for a half-second, just long enough.
I press the edge of the Monado against her throat—not cutting, just a whisper of danger. A reminder.
The blade hums softly, its glow catching in her wild hair.
I click my tongue, the satisfaction curling like smoke in my chest.
“My dear,” I purr, tilting my head, “next time…”
I lean in, close enough that the wind can’t steal the words.
“Let’s let sleeping gods lie.”
[REX]
“Redemption.”
I raise Nia’s blade overhead. Water spirals upward before crashing down in a shimmering veil, washing over me in a tide of healing. Bone mends. Muscles knit. The pain dulls to a hum—bearable. The Ether thrums in my veins, steady now. Familiar.
But still… not enough.
“You can only keep this up for so long, boy.”
Eulogiminos’ voice cuts through the wind, calm, immovable, absolute.
I grit my teeth. He’s right.
Behind me, Nia gasps, her Core flickering with strain. Her hair flares wildly, like a furious feline caught in a storm.
She’s giving everything she has—but she wasn’t made for this kind of fight. Not anymore. She’s a healer, not a weapon. And yet here she is, on a battlefield that isn’t hers.
It hurts.
Watching her fight a battle meant for me.
Speed. Strength. Skill. He outclasses me in all of them.
So what do I have…
That he doesn’t?
“Think, Rex… Think!”
A pulse. A surge from the Core in my chest—resonant and clear.
He’s finished.
“Nia.”
I hand her the blade. She grips it without hesitation.
The Affinity Link between us shimmers, then fades as I sheath my own sword.
I step forward, voice sharp as steel. “I’m sick and tired of watching you use your strength to break people.”
“You abandoned Zeke the moment his mother died. You left Syph to shoulder your expectations alone, terrified of disappointing you.”
I raise my arm, pointing straight at him. “And now this. Dragging us into your delusions of vengeance—all to ‘honor’ a son who isn’t dead, just ashamed. Ashamed of you. No doubt attempting to placate himself to my father, and to the son you discarded like garbage.”
I step closer, fury building. “You call me boy. You swing that axe like some self-righteous god, judging the unworthy.”
“Well, let me tell you, ” My voice shakes, but I press on. “You might be a great king… but you’re a failure of a father.”
His composure wavers. His brow twitches. His grip tightens.
“I’ve had just one month with my father since we reunited.” My voice cracks. “And in that short time, he’s given me more—more comfort, more truth, more love—than you’ve ever given your sons in a lifetime of silence and scorn.”
Eulogiminos’ mask shatters. His eyes flash with fury.
“What that boy needed was discipline! He disgraced our lineage!”
“No!” I roar, fists clenched. “What he needed was a father !
His mother died, and you gave him nothing—nothing but your back and a cold throne!”
“Zeke is terrified!” I shout, a tear streaking down my face. “Not for himself—but for Syph! About the weight that boy is expected to carry, when he can’t even bear the weight of a Core Crystal!”
“You act like if he didn’t just try harder, he could—”
“And what do you think he’s doing?” I snap. “The first thing Syph asked me was how to become a Driver. How he could earn your approval.”
I draw a shaky breath. “I get it. You’re a warrior. You were broken when your wife died. And maybe you thought showing weakness would destroy the crown.”
“But Zeke should have come before duty. Before lineage. Before the single Core Crystal he awakened as a cry for your attention. Your love.”
Eulogiminos raises his axe, fury burning in his eyes. “Your ignorance of duty proves you’re a failure as a leader.”
I scoff, stepping forward, unshaken. “And your refusal to stand with your Blade… or your sons… is why you’ve already lost.”
A crack echoes across the platform as the crystalline barrier between us collapses.
Behind Zenobia, Omega stands silent, crystalline blade pressed to her throat.
Eulogiminos reels. “H-how…?!”
I tilt my head, lips curled in bitter triumph.
“Who’s the failure now, old man?”
Notes:
Ohh i love them
Chapter 63: Pink and Red
Summary:
Syph reveals some new information on Scylla, and Nia attempts to remove some weight from Rex's shoulders.
Chapter Text
[REX]
“Rex! Are you okay!?”
Dad rushes to me, his hand clamping down on my shoulder, eyes wide with worry.
I smile, a little tired but sincere. “I’m okay, Dad. Really. You think Malos or Nia would let anything happen to me if they could help it?”
Gramps huffs. “Don’t write me off, boy!”
I laugh, but still, I glance down at my left arm, my smile faltering. The anchor’s cable is lost beneath the casing, and the hook is in my pocket. It’ll be a pain to repair.
“He did a number on my anchor, though…”
Tora flutters up beside me, wings flapping urgently. “Meh-meh! Tora can fix! Just need time and parts!”
I nod gratefully. “Thanks, Tora. I’d appreciate that.”
Zeke steps in next, his eyes locked on his father. The concern in his expression shifts quickly into cold resentment.
“Are you satisfied now, Dad?”
He spits the word like it’s venom.
Eulogiminos reclines on his throne, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “I have nothing to say to the contrary, at least.”
Syph exhales, shoulders sagging. “I’m so glad… It’s finally over.”
Beside Zeke, Pandoria leans toward Zenobia with a grin. “So? What’d you think of the Aegis?”
Zenobia grins, wide and wild. “An opponent like none other. I’m definitely gonna get stronger and take another shot at him.”
Pandoria chuckles. “Sounds just like you.”
Syph leans toward his father, whispering something only the king can hear. Eulogiminos raises an eyebrow, then sighs.
“As you’ve likely guessed,” he begins, “this was a test. To see if you were even worthy of acknowledgment.”
His gaze lands on me. “The might of the Aegis truly knows no bounds—especially when tempered to operate within reality’s limits.”
He rises from the throne, folding his hands behind his back. “You’ll be granted a place to rest for the night. Recuperate. Tomorrow, I expect you to reclaim the Fetter—if you still wish to wield its power.”
I cross my arms, skeptical. “So you want us to take care of this Scylla, then?”
Eulogiminos shrugs, almost amused. “Or find some other way to bypass it. I’ve no interest in how you succeed—only that you do. But I suspect… you’ll find combat difficult to avoid.”
[ZEKE]
“Ozych— Zeke,”
Dad’s voice stops me cold.
The others filter out of the throne room, swarming around Rex, Nia, and Malos. Syph lingers near them, eager to escape the suffocating air of the hall. I don’t blame him.
Only Pandoria stays beside me, silent and steady.
I don’t turn all the way—just enough to glare over my shoulder.
“What?”
No warmth in my voice. No reason for there to be.
He hesitates.
“That boy… Rex.”
His tone softens, unfamiliar. “Keep him close. He’s… a good one.”
My brow lifts despite myself.
I nod once.
“He is,” I reply, tilting my head. “Kind of you to notice.”
That’s all he gets.
Without another word, I turn and walk away, catching up with the others as they disappear into the twilight-tinged city beyond.
[REX]
Syph exhales, relief shaking through him. “I’m just glad I convinced Father to let Nia go with you. I figured I just had to stall until Malos beat Zenobia.”
The rooms Eulogiminos provided are cramped—nothing like the polished luxury of Indol—but honestly, I’m just happy to be back with my friends.
I nod. “Thanks. It helped more than you know.”
Nia smirks. “Well, he’s hopeless without me.”
I bump her shoulder. “You know it.”
Malos chuckles. “Though I can’t really take the credit for beating Zenobia. I doubt I could’ve done it that fast—at least not without killing her.”
Syph blinks. “Wait, did Typhos take over?”
Then it hits him. “No… Omega?”
I nod. “Apparently, he decided to make a show of it,” I say dryly. “Didn’t expect him to step in at all. He usually leaves the fighting to Typhos and Malos.”
Malos shrugs. “We’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: try to make sense of him, and you’ll never sleep again.”
“Speaking of,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes, “I might call it an early night. Big day tomorrow—and I’m still not fully back on my feet.”
Vandham steps up behind the couch and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, lad. You’ve earned it.”
I nod, smiling as I rise. Nia stretches beside me, matching my steps.
Crossette grins from across the room. “Try to get some actual sleep, you two.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
[REGIS]
I cross my arms, settling back into the couch where Rex had been sitting before he and Nia turned in for the night.
“I’m worried about him,” I admit, softer than I’d meant to. “He hasn’t been the same… not since the ascension.”
Mórag exhales, removing her hat and setting it on her lap. “I agree. He’s trying to live up to the role expected of him, but… I fear it’s eating him from the inside.”
Across the room, Tora fiddles with Rex’s anchor, joined by Poppi and Roc. On the far couch, Pyra and Crossette sleep soundly, their breathing light and even. Typhos gently drapes a blanket over them, careful not to wake them.
Syph flinches, eyes wide, his hands trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve tried harder to stop my father…”
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault, bud.” I sigh. “Honestly, the last thing Rex wants is for us to worry—especially about him.”
Suddenly, Syph straightens, a spark of realization lighting his face. “Wait—maybe I can come with you on the mission! I’ve studied Scylla’s Forest in depth. I might be able to guide you along the safest route.”
Zeke’s expression hardens, and he raises a hand. “No chance, kid. You’ve been through enough because of us. I’m not putting you in harm’s way again.”
“But I need the experience,” Syph counters, voice firm. “If I’m ever going to be king, I have to start stepping up.”
He glances down at his open palm, then clenches it. “And honestly… I’m not convinced Scylla is everything the legends say she is.”
Mórag leans forward, intrigued. “Do you know more about this creature?”
Syph nods slowly. “You’ve probably heard it already—Zeke mentioned the myth. A beautiful woman with a multi-headed beast growing from her back.”
I nod. “That’s what he told us.”
“But recently,” Syph continues, “I found a firsthand account. From someone who survived the massacre... four hundred and fifty years ago.”
Zeke straightens, surprised. “A firsthand account? Seriously?”
Syph nods again. “The witness confirmed most of the tale. A woman with massive, ebony wings, and that monstrous thing sprouting from her back…”
Brighid’s eyes narrow. “Then what’s different?”
Syph meets my gaze, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The witness described a Crimson Core Crystal glowing in her chest.”
Typhos settles beside me, facing Zeke and Syph across the low table. “Wait—you said it was Crimson?” he asks, brows narrowing.
Syph nods. “Yeah. The witness described it in… unsettling detail.”
Typhos meets Mórag’s eyes, something unspoken passing between them—grim, certain.
Syph notices the exchange and tilts his head. “You’ve heard of this before?”
Typhos exhales through his nose, voice low. “Yes. When a Blade consumes human flesh, their Core Crystal starts to change. It gains a pink tint.”
Syph blinks, recoiling. “Like Nia?”
Typhos nods. “Exactly. In her case, it was different. She only ever showed flashes of pink—like speckles. The base color stayed mostly blue. A result of... special circumstances.”
Syph shakes his head slowly. “That’s not what this account described. It said the crystal was entirely crimson.”
Mórag nods, solemn. “There have only been two recorded cases of a Core Crystal turning fully Blood-Red. One, we witnessed ourselves.”
Typhos grimaces. “Jin. We still don’t know how he became a Flesh Eater, but his crystal… it changed completely.”
Mórag rests a hand against her temple, voice softening. “The second case was even more disturbing. Their Core Crystal turned red not from consumption, but... integration. They implanted their Driver’s heart into themselves, becoming something more than Blade. Something… whole.”
A heavy silence falls over us.
Syph nods slowly, the weight of the truth settling on his shoulders. “So…”
Typhos finishes it for him, voice hollow.
“Scylla is a Blade. One who bears the heart of their Driver.”
[REX]
Nia’s hand finds my cheek as we lie in the dark, side by side in the quiet of our room.
“You haven’t been yourself lately,” she murmurs. “Going to bed early, barely speaking… that’s not like you.”
I wrap my fingers around hers, holding on for a moment before answering. “I’m fine. Really. I just... don’t want you all worrying about me.”
Her brows knit together, and she offers a sad, tired smile that hits me like a blade.
“Rex, when are you going to get it? We always worry about you.” Her voice softens, but there’s steel beneath it. “And I worry a lot more when you’re pretending everything’s fine than when it’s not. If you want us to back off, you have to let us in first.”
“Nia, I…”
My voice falters. I don’t even know how to finish the sentence.
“Rex.” She squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to carry this alone. That’s the whole reason we’re here—to support you.”
A knot rises in my throat.
“I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed you all,” I whisper, ashamed of the words even as I say them. “If it weren’t for you… or Omega… I wouldn’t have stood a chance today.”
She exhales sharply. “You were up against a warrior king, Rex. A man revered for his strength. Crowned by it, literally.” She nudges me with a faint smile. “You weren’t supposed to win—not easily. Like Syph said, I was just there to buy Omega time, not to turn the tide.”
“But what if it was a real fight?” My voice cracks, a tear sliding down my cheek. “What if it had been? I couldn’t have saved you. I’d have been useless. Just like... just like back then.”
I hesitate, the words choking me.
“It would’ve been just like Corvin…”
Nia’s eyes widen, her grip on my hand tightening.
“Rex… you know what he’d say, if he could hear you right now.”
I stay silent, letting her continue.
She gives me a gentle nudge in the chest. “Don’t play dumb. He’d scold you. Tell you to stop blaming yourself.” Her expression softens into something fond. “Honestly, love, you could probably reawaken him. There’s a real chance he’d remember you.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “He remembered all that stuff about Addam, didn’t he? And his Core was bathed in the Waters of Elysium, just like you.”
My voice trembles. “But… what if he doesn’t?” Another tear slips down my cheek. “What if the Corvin we knew is… really gone?”
Nia pulls me into her arms, holding me close.
“Then it’s our job to remember him,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. “For a Blade… that’s everything. To be remembered.”
I close my eyes, the warmth of her embrace surrounding me. The pain doesn’t vanish—but in her arms, it quiets.
And slowly, I drift into sleep.
Notes:
Kk, so you might be able to guess what I'm implying on the part of Scylla. I've been thinking about this storyline for a while, so hopefully it'll be a good read.
Also, no, Nia and Rex aren't, you know...
Crossette was joking, they're just kids. Just wanted to make that clear.Let's just say... what Nia was saying to Rex also applies to a certain Multi-Headed beast we will encounter next chapter ;)
DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARSSSSSSSSSS
CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR TEARSSSSS
Chapter 64: The Lair of Scylla
Summary:
The group delves into the ancient forest of Scylla.
Notes:
The laair of scyllaaaaaa
this is our only way homeeeeee
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
The lower level of Tantal stretches out like a sea of grass. Spires of rock jut skyward—some piercing into the stone ceiling far above, others barely taller than me.
Ancient ruins dot the landscape, crumbling and tangled with moss and vines. Mórag and Syph chatter nearby, trading bits of history about each structure. Syph seems thrilled to indulge her curiosity, but my attention is fixed on the sprawling shape in the distance, just east of the ether boulder at the valley’s center.
“The Forest of Scylla,” Zeke mutters, arms crossed, unusually serious.
“Named for the beast that supposedly sleeps at its heart, guarding the best shot we have at beating Mythra.”
I exhale. “Do we know anything about the Omega Fetter’s location? Is it buried in some box in the dirt, or should we be looking for something specific?”
Syph perks up. “There’s supposed to be a structure in the forest’s center. Built long before the trees ever grew around it.”
He rubs the back of his neck, uneasy. “No one really knows what shape it’s in now—or if it’s even still standing.”
“Let’s just hope Scylla hasn’t gotten her hands on it,” Dad says softly.
“If possible, we should avoid her altogether.”
The forest breathes darkness.
It doesn’t just shade the world—it devours it. A thick, suffocating shroud hangs over everything, clinging to our skin like mist soaked in shadow. The trees creak in the windless stillness, groaning like old bones.
Pyra shudders, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“She picked her lair well… It suits the legend. Too well.”
Typhos says nothing at first. The faint gleam of his Amethyst Core pulses against the gloom like a warning beacon.
“In and out,” he mutters, eyes narrow. “We don’t linger.”
Delta hovers silently beside him, their affinity link barely aglow, as if even it is hesitant to fully connect in this place.
“Pyra, Brighid—take point,” I say, peering into the endless dark. “I can’t see a thing.”
With a flick of their wrists, Pyra and Brighid summon twin orbs of flame. The fire doesn’t blaze—it flickers low and tight, as if afraid to burn too brightly in defiance of this place.
Light spills out, but not far.
Massive trees crowd the path, gnarled limbs twisted together so densely they form a roof of wood and shadow. The canopy above blocks out even the memory of sunlight. What lies ahead is a tunnel into nowhere—an overgrown trail swallowed by blackness.
“As much as it feels wrong to just follow the path…” Syph’s voice is low, the glow of the Core Crystal on his belt painting sharp, shifting lines across his face.
He gestures at the woods pressing in around us like walls.
“I’m not seeing another way.”
“Then we go forward,” I say quietly. “But stay sharp.”
The trail is treacherous. Roots claw up from the ground like the fingers of something buried alive. Vines hang low and wet. Every branch we push aside snaps back with unsettling resistance.
The light dances across the dark, but never pushes it back entirely. It slinks behind us, always ready to reclaim whatever we leave.
“Ah!” Nia stumbles suddenly.
I reach out instinctively, steadying her. “What was it?”
She doesn’t answer. She just stares down, transfixed.
I follow her gaze, crouch, and brush away a nest of tangled weeds and moss, revealing something cold and unnatural.
A statue. Half-buried, half-forgotten. Serpentine. Its face twisted into a wicked snarl. The metal it’s forged from is black as pitch, but its eyes glint in the firelight with a lifelike gleam. Watching.
Delta lowers beside me, voice barely more than a breath.
“It looks like… Ophion. Or the body I inhabit now.”
I narrow my eyes, heart thudding.
“Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
But even I don’t believe that.
Crossette hugs herself tightly, pacing. “I hate this. I hate this. Can we please just keep moving?”
I nod slowly, tearing my eyes from the statue.
“Right. It’s probably nothing.”
We continue on. The silence grows louder with every step. Every crunch of leaf or snap of twig feels too sharp, too sudden—like we’re intruding on something that should never be disturbed.
Then… the path ends.
Ahead of us, stone replaces soil—a wide, circular platform, half-sunken into the forest floor. Moss creeps up its sides, but the carvings remain sharp, untouched by time.
Man-made.
Surrounding it, a ring of statues—dozens of them—each carved from the same pitch-black stone as the serpent from earlier.
But there are no serpents.
They are winged. Humanoid. Beautiful.
Women with vast, dragonlike wings unfurled behind them. Their faces are serene, almost divine—until you notice the serpents sprouting from their necks, each one frozen mid-snarl. They stand almost twice as tall as I, each terrifying visage glaring down on us with inhuman ferocity.
Scylla.
Dozens of renditions. The same monstrous grace. The same watching eyes.
The flames around us flicker… and for a moment, I swear the statues breathe.
Syph steps forward—hesitant, stiff. His voice barely holds together.
“I… I thought they were just rumors.”
Nia’s ears twitch. Her gaze is locked on the statues, unblinking, her entire frame trembling.
“You’ve heard of them?”
Syph swallows hard.
“Some writings, old, scattered, speak of a cult that worshipped Scylla. They lived here. Deep in the forest.”
Another step. His boots crunch too loudly against the stone.
“But every version of the tale ends the same way…”
Something shifts.
The trees stir—not in a breeze, but as if disturbed by something colossal moving just out of sight. Branches groan under unseen weight. Shadows writhe.
“…they were devoured by the very beast they worshipped.”
The words hang in the air, and the forest answers.
The canopy above heaves. Bark splits with a sound like bones cracking. The trees shudder, as if recoiling from an ancient memory.
Then—silence.
It isn’t natural. It isn’t stillness.
It’s absence.
No birds. No leaves. No breath. Just the press of something watching.
Then…
Eyes.
Hundreds. Thousands.
They blink open in the dark like stars tearing through a stormcloud—peering down at us from the treetops, peering into us. Unblinking. Unfeeling. Stripping flesh from thought.
LEAVE.
The voice doesn’t echo—it invades. A low, guttural growl that reverberates through bone. Through Core. Through the soul.
Then the trees… move.
They don’t part—they peel.
Figures slither from the trunks like molted skin, coiling and rising into view. Dozens—no, hundreds—of serpents made not of flesh, but metal. Forged of black alloy or something darker, glinting with a sheen that drinks the light.
They sway midair, unsupported by wings or limbs. Watching. Waiting.
LEAVE.
The voice rises—not louder, but more present. It presses against the inside of our skulls, a command wrapped in fury.
I find myself stepping forward despite every instinct screaming at me to run.
“Scylla, wait!” I shout, my voice cracking. “We’re not here to fight. We just need to find something. Then we’ll go—swear it!”
The forest answers—not in words, but in sound.
Something falls.
A shape—impossibly vast—plummets from the canopy above, slamming into the center of the stone platform with a tremor that throws us off our feet.
It unfolds.
No statue. No carving. Not even a creature in the traditional sense.
She rises, and the air dies around her.
Scylla.
The statues did not do her justice. They couldn’t.
She is beautiful—and horrific.
A woman stands at the heart of it all—serene, cold, and untouched. Embedded in the chest of a great, biomechanical titan. Draconic wings arch from her back, vast and rigid, their edges like honed blades. Her hair flows as though underwater, eyes glassy in detachment.
Behind her, a massive draconic head sprouts from the machine’s back, slavering and snarling, snapping at shadows that recoil from its wrath.
Then—
The metal serpents surrounding us rush her.
They coil, whirl, and merge with her body, melting seamlessly into her flesh and frame. Her form ripples, parts shifting and reforging. The dragon’s neck swells.
New heads erupt—serpentine and violent—emerging from the dragon’s spine like a hydra reborn.
Then, stillness. A held breath.
Until,
The heads roar in perfect unison, a blast of sound and pressure that shatters the air. The Crimson Core Crystal in her chest flares, bathing the world in blood-red light.
And the voice returns—one final time.
LEAVE.
I take a step forward—one step closer to her fury, to the blinding light.
My heart pounds, but I force the words out anyway.
“We can’t! We can’t leave—not without the Omega Fetter! You don’t understand what’s at stake—”
A single tear slips down her cheek.
The woman, so calm, so silent until now, tilts her head ever so slightly. Her expression doesn’t change, but something fractures behind her eyes.
Her voice is quiet.
“Then even I… cannot shield you from this fate.”
The dragon’s mouths open with a screech like metal tearing itself apart. Etherlight gathers in their throats—crimson and searing.
They fire.
Blinding beams of light rip through the air toward us—merciless, inevitable.
“Monado Armor!”
A shield of radiant lavender slams into place in front of us, moments before impact. Malos stands firm, arms raised, voice like thunder, and resolve.
The beams crash against the Monado barrier—and dissolve.
Sparks scatter like fireflies. Ether shatters into red motes, evaporating before they can touch us. Malos’ blade glows, absorbing the last of the energy.
Scylla stares, stunned. Her draconic form still writhes in fury—but the woman within it weeps. Her eyes wide with sorrow, streaked with tears, as the dragon continues to fire, disconnected from her restraint.
“
Rex,
” Malos says sharply, the words cutting straight into my mind through our link. His voice is strained, but calm. Steady.
“
This woman… she doesn’t harbor malice.
”
“ What? ” I glance at him. The connection between us flares with tension. His face is tight with effort, the shield trembling beneath another wave of light.
Still, it holds.
Malos narrows his eyes. “ It’s like… There are two minds inside her. The woman, the Blade, and the Dragon that imprisons her. ”
I stare at Scylla, the woman within the beast. Her expression of grief. Not rage.
And the dragon that rages around her… that isn’t her at all.
Notes:
Mwahaha herald suffering even more in this timeline
Chapter 65: The Dragon and the Princess
Summary:
Endbringer sees fit to rewrite a tale of a passed age.
Notes:
Shorter chapter, but I wanted to give this it's own moment.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[OMEGA]
The tale of Scylla.
Once a woman of stunning beauty, until jealousy and divine cruelty twisted her form.
A rival’s wrath, a monstrous rebirth.
Her vengeance was blind and endless—six heads striking down those who sailed too near, her fury etched into the waves of myth.
Now, before me, the tale plays again in flesh and machine.
The girl weeps within her prison of metal and sinew, arms fused to the draconic body, no longer her own. The biomechanical horror that dares to usurp her will, to wield the Blade rather than serve it, has made her the monster. A puppet in her own legend.
I feel it through the ether—anomalies in her Core. Corruption, twisted DNA, and fragments of human data encoded like scars into her crystal lattice. Artificial manipulations woven through a once-pure design.
And buried within that matrix, like a forgotten song… her name.
Herald.
My voice stirs before I can restrain it, echoing through our link in a tone softer than I meant.
“Brother.”
Malos flinches, distracted. “What?”
The barrier shudders again—crimson beams carving against its trembling edge. He braces harder, his muscles taut.
I wait a beat. Then:
“Would you allow me to handle this?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Confusion pulses through our shared form, a question without words. The body is his for now, but I can feel the tension—a moment’s hesitation.
Then, dryly, he exhales.
“Fine. But if you kill the girl, Rex is going to throw a fit.”
A faint grin flickers in my mind.
“I don’t intend to kill her.”
Our shared form begins to shimmer—Malos’ frame unraveling, reshaped into my own. Ether coils around me like a cloak of stars. With a flick of my wrist, the barrier shudders—and shifts.
The sphere reverses.
No longer shielding our allies, it inverts, expanding—its lavender light warping around the thrashing beast before me.
The serpents writhing in the dragon’s collar begin to quake. Their movements grow erratic, wild, as if they sense what comes. They screech in unison, frenzied and afraid, as the radiant sphere tightens like a noose.
Herald’s eyes snap wide open.
The tears have stopped.
In their place: stunned silence, helpless awe, and something older… hope.
The dragon’s body twists violently, thrashing against the sphere’s pressure, the earth beneath it cracking from the force.
Still, I walk.
Unhurried. Measured.
Each step carves a path through the storm.
“Wait, Omega!”
Rex’s voice pierces the chaos, raw and desperate.
“You can’t kill her!”
I raise my left hand without turning. The ether hums, and his words fall into silence. Not cruelly—gently. Like a lullaby to soothe his panic.
There is no need to shout.
My right hand reaches through the barrier unhindered. The veil parts before me like mist.
I press my fingers to her crimson Core.
“Hold strong, my dear,” I murmur. “This may hurt.”
The instant contact is made, a violent shock erupts from within her Core. A blinding burst of azure light slices through the red.
The dragon halts.
Its wings tremble, then slump. Its heads fall limp, the fire within its eyes extinguished in a heartbeat. A single pulse of radiant energy floods outward from Herald’s chest, pure and harmonic as the Core Crystal embedded in her chest separates from her, shimmering. It’s light tears through the battlefield like a ripple through still water.
Her body lifts, suspended in the center of it all.
The restraints—those biomechanical tendrils of draconic sinew and steel—begin to melt away, turning to motes of silver dust. They swirl around her like a shedding cocoon.
And then—separation.
The Core Crystal splits.
The central prism embeds itself with Herald, glowing now with a restored inner light, now shimmering with a dull pink. The outer ring, forged of radiant, crimson crystal, rips free and crashes into the dragon, which collapses to the ground by my feet.
She breathes. Truly breathes.
She drifts gently to the earth, her descent slow and fragile—like a petal falling after the storm. Her feet touch the ground, unsteady. They shake beneath her as though she’s forgotten how to stand.
The sleek lines of her bodysuit shimmer in the fading etherlight, a stark contrast to her tanned skin. Her purple hair, matted with sweat and refuse, falls over her face in waves.
She sways.
I surge forward and catch her before she collapses.
She’s unconscious.
Up close, her features seem softer, less divine, more human. The fierce, otherworldly force that once roared from her now lies silent beneath tensed brows and shuddering breath. Her body trembles in my arms, wracked with pain she cannot voice.
The dragon is collapsed on the ground beside us, much smaller in size. Its wings wrap around its form, almost seeming to be in an attempt to soothe itself.
I’d assume that this is merely a resting state. In combat… it will regain its former size and ferocity.
I glance back toward Rex. “The Fetter is close. I can feel it—somewhere ahead.”
My voice is firmer now, an order more than a suggestion. “Go. Find it. I’ll look after her.”
Rex doesn’t hesitate. He nods sharply, Pyra already at his side. Together, they vanish into the gloom, their footsteps swallowed by the oppressive mist.
Nia steps in beside me, her hand glowing with the soft radiance of healing ether.
She doesn’t speak, but I see the question in her eyes.
I nod once.
She kneels, placing her hand gently against Herald’s chest. The water magic pulses outward, wrapping Herald in a cocoon of shimmering blue light. A whisper, a lullaby made of warmth and stillness.
Her body slackens.
The tension melts from her brow. Her breathing slows.
Nia’s brows furrow, uncertainty flickering across her face, not defiance, but concern. “What… did you do?”
I glance at the sleeping girl in my arms, her breathing soft against my shoulder. “Her mechanical beast gained a twisted form of sentience. An autonomous combat response, likely corrupted—perhaps even self-evolved. When she resisted, it imprisoned her, consumed her will, and made her its puppet.”
I exhale slowly. “The dragon isn’t separate from her. It’s part of her essence, her power given form. Killing it would solve nothing, it would just regenerate. So, I took a page from the kid’s book. Split the core, and put them in separate bodies. Connected, alive, but separate.”
I tap lightly on the Core Crystal embedded in my chest, the segmented amethyst shimmering faintly in the gloom.
Nia’s eyes widen. She gets it.
“I altered the data in her Core,” I continue. “Rewrote the permissions. The dragon still has autonomy… but now, it answers to her.”
Her expression softens—just a little.
I rise, adjusting Herald’s body against my shoulder. Her face is serene now. Almost innocent.
“Vandham,” I say, turning to the towering man at the rear. “You wouldn’t happen to be up for carrying her pet, would you?”
He raises a brow. “What, that overgrown tin lizard? Is there a reason we’re haulin’ it?”
I nod, slow and heavy. “Because even if she’s free to choose now… her choices still carry weight.”I look down at the girl, Herald , resting in my arms. The faintest flutter of her lashes. A breath.
“Her past still has to answer for itself.” I look up, the starlight now managing to break through the canopy. “And where else should we hold a trial, then the city where the crime was committed?”
Notes:
Ohhh to be an immortal, once emotionless robot falling for a scary dragon lady.
Yes, that is where this is going. I had an idea and I am RUNNING WITH IT
Chapter 66: Duality of a God
Summary:
Herald's soul is weighed
Chapter Text
[REX]
“So this…” Syph mutters, tension threading through his voice, “is the legendary Scylla?”
Herald lies curled up in the bed, fast asleep. One hand clutches the blanket with quiet desperation, embedded in the comforter like she was once in the biomechanical titan.
Beside her, the dragon rests on the floor, just as still. Its wings wrap around its body like a cocoon, comfortable.
“I gotta admit,” Zeke says, scratching the back of his neck, “wasn’t expecting her to look like this.”
Suddenly, Herald jolts upright.
She gasps—eyes wide with fear, breath shallow. Her head whips around, scanning the room in quick, jagged movements.
Then her gaze lands on the dragon.
Still sleeping.
Her panic softens. Slowly, almost instinctively, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over its head.
The dragon rumbles in contentment, curling tighter around itself like a satisfied pet.
I cross my arms, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“I think it likes that.”
Her eyes meet mine—uncertain, guarded.
A beat passes. Then softly, she speaks.
“…You saved me.”
Her voice is hoarse. Fragile.
“Thank you.”
I tilt my head toward Nia and Omega, my smile returning.
“I can’t take credit. If you want to thank anyone… thank them.”
She turns to the pair, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. But her gaze soon drops, lingering on her open palms.
“…You shouldn’t have.”
Omega approaches silently. For the briefest moment, his hair shimmers, flickering to a soft violet hue, like dusk on the edge of vision.
I blink.
It’s gone. Once again, the inky black falls across his shoulders like spilled shadow.
“And what would make you say that, my dear?” he asks, his voice a purr, smooth and velvet-lined. He lowers himself into the chair beside her bed with the eleganty, as if gravity were a suggestion.
Herald eyes him warily, her body coiled like a cornered animal. Slowly, she lowers her gaze to her trembling palms.
“My inability to control my powers…” Her voice cracks, heavy with guilt. “It cost lives. So many lives. This weight is not one that can be… washed away.”
Her shoulders begin to shake. Tears spill, hot and silent.
Omega produces a handkerchief, immaculate, embroidered with unfamiliar sigils. He offers it to her with unexpected tenderness.
Syph tilts his head, confused. “It’s… uncommon for a Blade to lose control like that. If I may ask, what kind of person was your Driver?”
Herald flinches. Her jaw tightens.
“It doesn’t matter,” she snaps.
The room falls silent. Syph pulls back slightly, startled by the sharpness in her tone.
But Herald is no longer focused on him. Her eyes lock on Omega now, fierce with sudden clarity.
“Sir,” she says, voice steeled. “I appreciate what you’ve done. But I have one more request.”
Omega’s eyes narrow subtly. “You may speak.”
“You must kill me.”
The room stills. Not a breath stirs.
“My presence is a threat to this city,” she continues, her voice unwavering. “Even now, I can feel it, something inside me, waiting to break loose again. I may have a leash, but the beast is still alive.”
Omega doesn’t answer right away. He simply watches her, his gaze unreadable—sharp and still.
Then, at last, he speaks.
“Sister.”
A shimmer of light pulses from his armor as Delta emerges, her serpentine form coiling fluidly into the air beside him. Ethereal, precise, and cold as moonlight.
“Yes?” she answers, her voice soft but alert.
“I’ll need your assistance,” Omega says tightly. His voice is strained, forced through clenched teeth.
Darkness explodes from his form before I can cry out—wrapping around them in a sphere of swirling shadow.
The last thing I see before everything goes black is Omega, standing still at its center—his hair now a radiant violet, glowing softly in the gloom like the halo of a benevolent god.
[OMEGA]
The Memory Stage.
A rare and extraordinary phenomenon. A divine artifact, if one believes such things. A gift from our Father—one that permits the creation of a shared subconscious space, a plane sculpted from memory, will, and ether. A stage upon which buried truths may surface, and illusions may be unmade.
“So,” I murmur into the endless dark, “this is still how you see yourself, my dear.”
My voice echoes across the vastness.
The world we now stand in is a void—a sprawling, obsidian expanse lit only by the distant dance of amethyst and emerald light. Their hues ripple across the floor like auroras trapped beneath glass.
At its heart floats Herald—or rather, Scylla.
She appears as she once did: imprisoned within the monstrous frame of the mechanical dragon. Her limbs are fused to steel, her eyes distant, her expression unreadable. An unwilling goddess locked in her own mythology.
Delta stands quietly at my side, her turquoise hair and winglike mantles drifting in the unfelt breeze. A sentinel of memory.
Herald’s eyes drift slowly across the abyssal space, calm and silent. She says nothing—but I can sense it. Her awareness deepening. Curiosity taking root beneath the surface of her reserved exterior.
I raise my palm.
A shimmering orb of translucent violet light materializes above it, pulsing softly like a captured star.
With a flick of my wrist, the orb sails into the center of the void. It explodes in a burst of brilliance—and from the flash emerges a towering set of scales. Vast. Luminous. Shifting faintly under the weight of their settling balance.
Herald’s gaze snaps to the spectacle for a moment, then returns to me. Her interest dims, her voice wary yet composed.
“Sir… what is the meaning of this?”
Delta steps forward, her soft voice cutting clearly through the vast silence.
“You asked us to end your life. That the burden of your past had become too great. That your lack of control would only continue to add to it.”
Herald nods once, solemn and slow, eyes lowering to the small, graceful girl before her.
“You see…” Delta continues gently, “my brother is a creature of balance. He listens. Weighs. Judges not by emotion, but by measure. He determines fault and delivers recompense accordingly.”
Herald’s brow tightens, uncertainty flickering behind her stare. “What are you saying?”
I step forward, standing beside Delta. Our shadows merge beneath the flickering scales.
“We are saying,” I begin, voice steady and cold as starlight, “that we will hear your tale. That we will weigh it in full. If we find your guilt greater than your suffering—if your self-hatred proves justified by the harm you’ve wrought—then we will grant your wish. You shall have your end.”
As the words leave my lips, violet fire ignites on the left pan of the scale.
Guilty.
Delta turns her face up to Herald, smiling with genuine warmth. “But… if your sins are not truly yours to carry, if your torment surpasses the pain you caused, then we offer you something else. Something few receive.”
Relief.
“Whether that release is symbolic or tangible…” she adds, “that choice will belong to you.”
A second flame bursts to life on the opposite pan—this one viridian, dancing softly in the dark.
Innocent.
Herald lowers her eyes, our words settling heavily upon her.
“...You speak as if either choice were punishment,” she murmurs. “But to me… neither is. Not truly.”
I cross my arms, watching her carefully. “I’m afraid that’s subjective, dear,” I reply, voice quiet. “But from what I’ve seen… it seems you’ve already lived through a fate worse than death.”
Herald turns her face away, her voice a whisper. “Very well. I agree to your terms.”
[HERALD]
My Driver was a young man—gentle, kind.
It was fate, really, that led him to awaken my Core. A miracle, even, given how rare it is for someone like him to resonate at all. He had no training, no experience—completely unfit to wield a Blade of my… scale.
But still, I was happy.
He treated me with patience. With warmth. With the unwavering belief that, somehow, we could make this work. He spent every waking moment seeking a way to channel my overflowing power, to contain the storms within me.
I still remember his smile that day. The way he burst through the doors of our small home on the outskirts of Tantal’s lower layer.
“I’ve found a way!” he beamed, gripping my hands in his calloused ones. “There’s a doctor in the city—he says he can help us. That he can create something… to share the burden. To give you control.”
He meant well. He always did. But for every strength he carried—his compassion, his resolve—there was a shadow behind it: his naïveté. His blinding faith in others. His hope.
It was that hope that doomed him.
The “doctor” was a butcher of the soul. A master of the forbidden arts who saw my Driver not as a person, but as an opportunity. He twisted my companion’s trust into a noose—and when the time came, he hung him with it.
He tore the heart from my Driver’s chest while it still beat. And then… he forced it into mine.
That day, I ceased to be myself.
Under his control, my body was turned into a weapon—a monstrosity driven by anguish and unleashed upon the heart of Theosoir. The power I once tried so hard to suppress was turned outward, let loose in a frenzy of destruction.
I remember the serpents—born of my power, twisted beyond recognition. I remember the screams of the innocent. Their lives were claimed by my hands, their blood staining the ground beneath my wings.
And through it all, the heart of a man who knew only kindness pulsed inside me—trapped in a vessel of rage and ruin.
It wasn’t until Theosoir lay broken, reduced to ash and memory, that I reclaimed control. That I cast off the chains and fled—not to fight, but to hide.
I ran to the only place that still felt like mine.
Home.
And I stayed. Through centuries of silence. Until our dwelling crumbled to dust. Until the trees reclaimed the land, until myths took root in the soil and named it sacred. Terrifying.
A place where no one would tread. Where they could bury a relic—and a legend.
A goddess of death, they called me. Scylla.
But I was no goddess.
Only a Blade. Born of man. And shame.
[DELTA]
Her words echo through the Memory Stage, rippling through the air like tremors through water—sharp, raw, undeniable.
I press my hands over my mouth.
“…How awful.”
The scales quiver in the silence that follows, their arms trembling under the weight of her confession—but the balance holds.
Herald lifts her eyes to us. They are cold. Steady. Her voice is a rasp.
“What is your verdict, then?”
I turn to my brother—
And I falter.
“End—Omega?” I whisper.
He is… changing.
Omega’s form flickers—unstable, unraveling.
One moment, he’s a silhouette of ash and smoke, more concept than man.
The next, he solidifies—an unfamiliar figure in orchid robes, hair flowing in long violet waves, his eyes aglow with something distant… familiar.
He lifts a trembling hand.
A pulse of amethyst light bursts forth, and the scales shift.
The viridian flame—innocence—flares violently, expanding outward in a wave of brilliant green fire. The inferno consumes the space, devouring the darkness with blinding intensity.
In the final seconds before the Memory Stage crumbles, I see it.
The scales break.
The plate bearing the viridian fire collapses, crashing down as though burdened by unbearable weight. The entire construct shatters, bursting apart in a storm of cinders and light, disintegrating into motes of shimmering amethyst energy.
I reach out, voice cracking.
“W-wait!”
But my cry is swallowed as the world collapses inward.
The flames engulf Endbringer—no, the
man
wearing his face.
Amethyst and shadow spiral around him, pulling him from view—
And then everything is gone.
Notes:
Hehehehehehe
what empathy does to an mfer
Chapter 67: Isle of the Blessed
Summary:
How do you think a god would respond to feeling true emotion for the first time?
Notes:
Longer chapter this time!
I am back on my BULLSHIT BOYS
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
When our vision returns, Omega is gone.
Zeke rubs his eyes, disoriented. “What was that…?”
The room is exactly as it was before the darkness took us. Same furnishings. Same walls. Same quiet.
Except for the smell.
A sharp, bitter scent of smoke hangs in the air.
Pyra spins around, scanning the room, until her eyes catch on a dim shape crumpled near the floor.
Her breath catches.
And then—
“Delta!” she screams.
Her voice cuts through the air like a blade, panic and heartbreak twisting her tone.
My gaze snaps to the shape.
And the sight strikes me like a punch to the gut.
Delta lies broken. Her delicate, serpentine body shattered into countless metallic fragments, scattered across the stone like fallen stars.
No light. No shimmer.
“Who… who could have done this?” My voice shakes, barely more than a whisper.
“It was him,” Herald answers, her voice low and tight. “After I told them my story… something inside him just… broke.”
Pyra turns to me, eyes blazing, voice steady.
“Then we have to find him. Now.”
Pyra’s voice cuts like a blade. She whirls toward Herald, her hair flaring—embers rising with her anger, strands flickering like burning wire.
“Did you see anything?” she demands, urgency raw in her tone.
Herald hesitates, uncertainty flashing across her face. “Not much, but…”
Her gaze shifts, locking onto Syph’s belt—more specifically, to the shimmering, half-concealed crystal that should be secured to it.
“I saw a shadowy figure… take the crystal from his belt.”
Syph freezes. His hand instinctively moves to check, only to recoil as if burned.
“It’s gone,” he murmurs, face paling. “But how did—?”
Herald doesn’t answer. No one does. A cold silence settles over us, broken only by the crackling of faint embers in Pyra’s hair.
And somewhere, not far away, something ancient stirs.
[DELTA]
“Stop this, Endbringer!”
My voice cracks like thunder through the void—but there is no answer.
No flicker of recognition.
No trace of the brother I knew.
He has returned.
Not as Omega.
But as the Program.
A corrupted echo of balance—purged of empathy, stripped of reason.
What remains is a beast of protocol and punishment.
Judgment incarnate, void of soul.
We hover high above the ruins of Theosoir, the once-proud capital now a graveyard in motion.
Wind howls through the broken spires, dragging dust and screams in its wake.
Streets pulse with flickering ether, like veins torn open.
The earth itself weeps.
And below us, the chaos only spreads.
The monster rampaging through the city is a figure half-swallowed by shadow.
In the stuttering violet light, I catch glimpses:
Long, insectoid spines curled like scythes.
An obsidian carapace glinting with fractured reflections.
A form too twisted to be human—yet undeniably shaped by human pain.
He moves in spasms of fury, driven by a will no longer his own.
In his grasp, a titanic lance forged of amethyst light pulses with unchecked power, humming with silent screams.
I know what this is.
This is not justice. This is not balance.
This is repetition.
This is a tragedy retold.
He would rather burn a city to ash than face the weight of his own guilt. He would rather reenact another’s torment than confront the emotion behind it.
“To force a gentle creature to kill,” I whisper, my voice trembling, “under the whims of a wicked master…”
My breath catches. The grief threatens to choke me.
“This city has done nothing to deserve this!” I cry out, hurling my voice toward the flickering shape that once held his name. “The one responsible for her suffering—he’s dead! He’s been dead for years!”
But what answers is no brother of mine.
Only a voice—mechanical and merciless.
“They stand guilty of negligence.”
There is no humanity left in those words.
Only code.
Only judgment.
Our shared form—once a vessel of choice and identity—has become an abomination of shadow and scorched ash, a storm of grief weaponized into annihilation.
Typhos and Malos, our little brothers, lie unconscious within his form. In the face of their resistance, he silenced them. It’s taking my entire strength not to be forced into submission alongside them.
In the end, he’s always been the Dragon hiding in their shadow, waiting to take control.
At the city’s center, where the ether conduit once pulsed with life, something new stands.
A crystalline brazier, blazing with light.
Its flames dance with a violet hue, hypnotic and hungry. They beat like a pulse, a verdict with no appeal.
A godless decree cast in fire:
Guilty.
The word doesn’t need to be spoken again.
It’s in the smoke.
In the rubble.
In the bones of the city itself.
And somehow, I know—
This is only the beginning.
[REX]
“Addam above…”
The words tear from my throat as I stagger into the ruins of Theosoir.
What once was a proud capital—a place of order, culture, history—is now a charred, broken shell. Smoke coils like serpents through shattered towers. Ash drifts down from the sky, soft and silent, blanketing a graveyard that stretches as far as the eye can see.
In the heart of it all, a colossal brazier looms—a monument of madness. Violet fire churns within it, alive, pulsing like a heartbeat carved straight into the sky. The flames are wrong. Unnatural. As if reality itself is screaming.
And below it…
A monster.
A titanic abomination of smoke and shadow, carved from agony and rage. It rampages through the city like a living nightmare. Every swing of its massive arms brings ruin—buildings collapse like parchment castles, bones shatter underfoot. It kills without purpose, without restraint.
Bodies lie strewn across the stone streets, buried in rubble and soot. I can’t even count them.
The air is thick—burnt stone, blood, and despair. Every breath is a battle.
“Nia!” I yell, voice raw with panic.
She’s already behind me, moving fast, her blade drawn, her brow furrowed in grim determination. Her ears are flattened, eyes wide. She’s seen too much.
“Bring me any wounded!” I bellow to the crowd—if there’s even a crowd left. Soldiers, refugees, medics—anyone. Just someone still breathing, still standing.
Time breaks apart.
It moves slowly, too slowly. Like dragging myself through wet sand. Every moment feels stretched. Every cry for help lodges in my ears like knives.
Mórag and Zeke charge into the fray without hesitation, blades glowing bright. Sparks of ether slam against the creature’s violet fire in bursts of light and fury. They’re not fighting to win—they’re buying time. For us. For anyone who might survive.
I drop to the ground beside a wounded woman—her body crushed under rubble. Blood soaks the street beneath her. I press my hand to her side, begging her to hold on. Nia kneels beside me, water ether pouring from her hands in brilliant blue arcs.
The woman groans, pain writ across her face—but it’s just one voice in a chorus of agony we’ll never silence.
“Dammit!” I cry out, spinning, searching the skyline for something, anything.
“Where is Omega?!”
My fists clench tight. The words catch in my throat.
“We need Typhos. We need the fountain—he’s the only one who can fix this!”
But even as I say it, something inside me knows.
Whatever this creature is…
We can’t stop it without him.
And if he is behind this…
A chill cuts through me like ice water.
Then it might already be too late.
The ash in the air swirls suddenly, violently, drawn to a point.
Condensing.
Taking shape.
A humanoid form emerges from the smoke, crackling with violet light. Ether made flesh. At its center—embedded deep in its chest—shines a brilliant, Amethyst Core Crystal.
The crystal I know.
His crystal.
“You would intervene?” the shape asks, its voice calm, but not human. Not anymore. It flows like liquid metal. “Disturb the balance more than it has already been?”
“Of course I would!” I snarl, stepping forward. “Are you the one who did this, Omega!?”
The figure shudders. Its stance falters. Its head tilts slightly, as if trying to understand.
Then—flicker.
For a heartbeat, it’s no longer a monster.
A man stands before me, regal, striking. Long violet hair flows behind him, robes of orchid silk and gold whisper around his form.
Flicker.
Then, it’s smoke again. Light and shadow. Unbeing.
“WhAt... DiD yOu... cAlL Me...?”
The voice fractures. A shuddering, distorted echo that rips through the air like static across glass.
Nia grips my arm tightly, her nails digging in.
“R-Rex…” Her voice trembles. “That’s not Omega.”
I look to her, and she meets my eyes, horrified.
“Do you remember the memory Malos showed us? Back in Garfont?”
I do.
And my stomach drops.
I grit my teeth. “So… you’ve regressed that far? You’ve forgotten everything that made you who you are?”
My words strike the creature, but whether it feels them, I don’t know.
What I do know… is that what stands before me is no longer the ally, the brilliantly annoying friend who once stood by my side, even if only out of duty.
It’s something else.
Something worse.
Nia’s sword slips from my fingers.
I don’t even remember letting go.
It hits the ground with a hollow clang, and before I can move—before I can even think—someone else grabs it.
Syph.
He snatches the blade from the ground with trembling hands and lunges at the figure standing in the heart of the plaza.
The creature doesn’t flinch.
The sword swings through the vague shape, slicing cleanly through its smoky torso—but there’s no resistance. No blood. No wound. The form ripples, then reforms, like fog scattered by wind.
“po1NtL3ss,” the thing mutters, voice glitching like a broken transmission.
Then a leg—jagged and impossibly long—materializes from the haze and strikes Syph in the chest.
He’s hurled backward.
He hits the stone with a sickening crack, dust and ash billowing around him. I reach out, too late.
But even as he wheezes for air, another tear tracing down his soot-streaked cheek, Syph pushes himself back to his feet.
Unsteady. Bleeding. But standing.
And then, sword still clutched in his shaking hands, he charges again.
“I won’t let you hurt my people anymore!” he yells, voice high and hoarse, terror curling around every word. “I won’t let you torment that Blade either!”
My eyes snap to the creature.
For a moment, I see it clearly.
It’s stopped moving.
The smoke and flame that compose its form tremble, like it’s barely being held together. And in its chest, where a single Core Crystal flickers—not amethyst, but azure—something pulses.
Not with power. Not with judgment.
With pain.
Its whole body spasms—erratic, frantic, wrong. Like a marionette being yanked in every direction, its strings fraying with every breath.
Or like a prisoner.
Fighting to escape its master’s will.
Zeke and Mórag stand just beyond it—unharmed. Confused. Staring.
And then I understand.
My blood runs cold.
Endbringer didn’t just become a monster.
He forced the Blade inside the Core we gave Syph, the only I hope I had ever given him… to become this.
A weapon.
A killer.
Syph keeps swinging the sword. Uselessly. Desperately. Each blow passes through smoke, cuts nothing.
Still, he doesn’t stop.
“WhY d0 y0u F1ghT, Ch1lD?”
The voice of Endbringer echoes across the plaza—detached, alien. Not angry.
Just… curious.
Like he truly doesn’t understand.
Syph chokes back a sob, stumbling forward.
“Because I have to!” he cries. “I’m supposed to lead them! To be someone they can look up to!”
The sword slips from his fingers and clatters to the ground once more.
Syph drops to his knees beside it.
The ash around him swirls as tears spill freely down his cheeks, carving rivers in the soot.
“But I’m not even a real Driver,” he whispers, voice cracking.
His hands tremble in his lap, stained with blood not his own.
“I couldn’t protect myself in Indol… I was helpless against Herald…”
He looks up at the shuddering Blade across the plaza—its movements growing more erratic by the second, as if the form itself is rejecting the purpose it was given.
“And now I couldn’t even protect the Core that was entrusted to me.” His voice breaks completely.
“I… I thought I could at least do that.”
He weeps there for a moment, joined only by the sound of the cracking fire.
An arm reaches out, gentle and trembling, wiping a tear from the boy’s cheek.
Syph flinches—but doesn’t pull away.
I glance up, and my breath catches.
It’s him.
The man with the long, flowing violet hair—the one I saw flicker inside the monster just moments ago. He kneels before Syph now, eyes wide, brimming with tears.
“Emotion…” he murmurs, voice raw and halting. “Is not something I am… used to.”
His form shudders, glitching like a dying flame.
For a heartbeat, the smoky silhouette returns—eyes like twin coals, a monster wrapped in judgment—but then it stabilizes. The violet-haired man reforms, more solid than before.
He rises slowly, taking in the devastation around him. The fractured skyline. The bloodstained streets. The faces frozen in fear, in grief.
And then his gaze lands on the shuddering creature across the plaza.
The one born from a Blade’s stolen will.
The one he made.
“W-what have I done…?” he whispers, barely audible. His hands rise to his face, and the tears come freely now, streaking down his cheeks as sobs wrack his frame.
[OMEGA]
The crystalline sword appears before me once more—shimmering, elegant, a weapon of clarity and code.
But it no longer brings strength.
Not anymore.
Instead, it trembles in my hand like a memory I no longer recognize.
So this is what guilt feels like.
Not just logic. Not just consequence.
Regret.
“…Nia,” I say, my voice thin and hollow. “Would you be willing to help me?”
She blinks up at me from where she stands, her ears twitching slightly.
“I—I mean, sure,” she says. “But… what are you doing?”
I breathe in deeply, then exhale, letting the wind shake through my soul.
“…Making amends.”
I step forward.
The blazing brazier still burns in the center of the ruined city, its violet flame pulsing like a heartbeat gone wrong.
I raise the sword—my sword—and cast it into the fire.
It strikes the core of the flame and shatters into a thousand crystalline shards.
Nia watches for a moment, then kneels beside the brazier.
She drives her flowing sword deep into the stone beneath the altar, and as she rises, Rex takes her hand, standing silently by her side.
A pulse of light flashes from the brazier, not violet.
But viridian.
Bright. Gentle. Alive.
“ So… how do you feel, brother? ” Typhos murmurs softly, his voice threading through my thoughts like wind through leaves.
My answer catches in my throat.
“It’s… so much,” I admit. “Is this what it’s like? To be mortal?”
A laugh rumbles quietly in my mind. Malos.
“ It’s okay to be unsure, ” he says.
Then comes the water.
It rushes outward from Nia’s sword in an endless surge—clear, healing, pure.
It floods the broken streets, not with destruction, but restoration. The roar fills the air like song.
Across the plaza, the Blade—once twisted into a creature of torment—finally collapses. Its form implodes, unraveling like smoke in the breeze, and returns softly, peacefully, to its Core Crystal.
And I…
I am almost glad it won’t remember what I forced it to endure.
I look down at the water pooling around my feet. At the viridian flame that rises like hope reborn.
“The boy… the Blade…” I whisper. “Herald. Poor… Herald…”
My voice cracks again.
“What is this emotion?”
The answer comes not from Malos or Typhos.
But Delta.
Warm. Soft. Certain.
“ That, my dear brother…”
“It’s called compassion.”
And then—something more.
Nia’s voice. Rex’s. Mine.
Rising in harmony, one heart, one soul, one truth:
“ Aegis Unity: Isle of the Blessed .”
The viridian fire erupts, illuminating the crumbling city in radiant light.
The water flows outward, carrying the warmth of something far older than pain.
Something like love.
I wonder, if only my father were still watching…
Would he be proud?
Notes:
Syph my bb I wanna give him a hug
Chapter 68: Seperation
Summary:
Rex and Co. Explain themselves to Eulogiminos, but their conversation is interrupted by familiar faces.
Notes:
Woot, longer chapter! We're almost there, baybee
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
The waters rush around us, soothing and gentle.
They stitch together wounds, mend broken limbs, and lift the rubble as though time itself has chosen to reverse its cruelty. Stone and steel are flung gently back into place, buildings reconstructing like memories remembered. The dying stir. The breathless gasp anew. The cries of anguish are slowly replaced by disbelief… and then quiet awe.
At the city’s heart, the once-monstrous brazier flickers—then fades.
Gone is the violet blaze of wrath.
In its place, the ether conduit rises, humming with ancient purpose, its luminous veins of energy flowing clean and true. It stands not as a weapon, but a symbol of healing. Of harmony. Of balance restored.
I barely have time to take it in before he approaches me.
Endbringer.
No, Omega.
His presence is no longer a force of domination. It's subdued, reverent. Like he’s afraid to step too heavily on a world he’s finally seeing with mortal eyes.
His face bears a look of guilt, and it sits oddly on his otherwise serene features.
The hair that once flowed like a void, inky, bottomless, is now a soft, shimmering violet. Within it, streams of amethyst ether flow like luminous filaments, traveling down its length like woven strands of purpose and restraint.
His armor is gone.
No more shimmering plating. No resemblance now to the grim battle-gear of Typhos or Malos. In its place: simple robes. Dull orchid in hue, designed not for war, but for comfort. They sway with the breeze, heavy with meaning.
His Core Crystal glows visibly through a slit in his robe, soft and steady. Beneath it, a plain dark shirt. No regalia. No insignia.
It’s an outfit chosen not for defense or power, but for presence. For relief.
He stands before me now not as a weapon, not as a god, but as a man.
And I understand.
His power is no longer meant to end lives. For combat.
“How do you feel?” I ask, my voice tentative, unsure.
Omega looks down, almost sheepish. “I—I…”
His hand lifts to the back of his neck, rubbing it with an awkwardness I recognize all too well—Typhos’ nervous tic.
“To be completely honest… I feel utterly atrocious.”
I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. That sounds about right. Get some rest. Let one of the others take over.”
He exhales shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Typhos would… probably handle this better.”
He sways, weariness hitting him like a wave. Then his form shimmers—light warping, breath catching—and in an instant, Omega is gone.
Typhos stands in his place, staggering slightly as though the air itself is heavier around him. He shakes himself, like shaking off water—or a lingering memory.
“Ugh,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, “I knew he’d be a pain in the ass, but…”
Nia chuckles beside me, hand on her hip. “Let’s check in on the rest of the town first. And then…”
She glances at Typhos and shudders. “I’m pretty sure the king is going to want… a very thorough explanation.”
I nod, patting my bag where the Omega Fetter now rests. “We completed the mission. But I think we’ve left an even bigger mess in our wake.”
When we enter the throne room, Eulogiminos is absorbed in an interface embedded in the wall. Zenobia floats lazily beside him, reclining in midair as if lounging on an invisible sofa.
“Um, Your Majesty?” I venture, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I hear your Aegis was causing quite a stir among my people,” Eulogiminos remarks, eyes still fixed on the glowing display. His fingers dance across the surface with precise, practiced speed—almost faster than I can follow.
“Y-yeah, he was,” I admit. “But the situation’s resolved now. No casualties. The city’s been restored.”
Eulogiminos’ eyes flick toward me, brows lifting. “No casualties?” he repeats, surprise edging his voice. “And how, exactly, was that possible?”
His gaze sharpens as it shifts to Typhos, who stands beside me with arms folded and posture rigid.
“And you,” he says, voice low. “How did you manage to subdue a rampaging Aegis?”
I incline my head slightly. “That was thanks to the Crown Prince. Syph.”
Syph stiffens at my side, shoulders tensing beneath the sudden weight of attention. I offer him a reassuring smile.
“You see… Omega began more machine than man—driven by logic, devoid of empathy. But when confronted with something unexpected—compassion, vulnerability—something inside him shifted. The machine panicked, tried to reassert control.”
I glance at Syph. “But it was Syph’s empathy… his grief, his courage… that drew the human side of Omega back. It wasn’t power that saved us. It was compassion.”
Eulogiminos falls quiet. His expression turns distant, contemplative as the words settle.
After a moment, he nods and turns away from the interface to face us fully. “Very well. And… the one who healed the citizens—was that the same Healer who revived my son in Indol?”
I nod. “With help from Omega’s empathetic aspect, yes.”
Eulogiminos exhales, as though the truth carries a heavy weight. “Then it seems I owe you yet another debt of gratitude.”
I blink, surprised. I open my mouth to wave it off, but before I can speak, Nia steps forward and gently places a hand on my arm.
“May I?” she whispers.
I nod and step aside, letting her take the lead.
Nia straightens. Her posture firms, her voice taking on a calm, deliberate tone—one that echoes the noble world she was raised in. For a moment, I almost forget the sharp-tongued friend I know. It’s strange. Endearing. I have to suppress a grin.
Eulogiminos gestures for her to proceed.
“In the depths of Scylla’s Forest,” she begins, “we encountered the woman herself.”
The king’s eyes widen, and he leans forward slightly. “Then I assume… you slew the beast?”
Nia shakes her head. “Quite the opposite. She now rests in the city, recovering from our encounter.”
She pauses to gather her thoughts.
“My request, Your Majesty, is that you grant her a pardon.”
Eulogiminos tilts his head, studying her carefully. “And what makes her worthy of such clemency?”
I step in to support her. “According to Typhos, Scylla was the victim of a brutal experiment—one that killed her Driver and shattered her control. She didn’t attack by choice. She was being manipulated, twisted into something monstrous.”
“With Omega’s help,” Nia continues, “we freed her from that influence. She’s no longer a threat. She finally has the power to choose.”
“She deserves that chance,” I add. “Not a cell. Not execution. A life of her own.”
Nia’s voice softens. “Please. Let her live in peace. For once, let her decide what that means.”
Eulogiminos nods silently.
I glance at the wall display. Curiosity gets the better of me. “And if I may ask… what were you working on?”
He follows my gaze, then smiles faintly. “Do you recall the platform where we held our contest?”
I nod.
“This castle is built with similar technology. Using Tornan systems and data embedded in Zenobia’s Core, we can reconfigure the structure almost at will.”
He gestures us toward the throne. With a casual flick of his wrist, another glowing interface blooms into view.
Zeke crosses his arms, smirking. “There are some things only Pandy can do, too. Though most of her tricks involve the Titan itself.”
Eulogiminos nods thoughtfully. “As for the pardon… consider it granted. If you believe she deserves a second chance, then I will honor your judgment.”
A sharp laugh cuts through the air behind us.
“So quick to grant mercy. So eager to act on behalf of others,” a familiar voice snarls. “A mercy you failed to show her—when you slaughtered her.”
A gust of wind coils around us as we spin to face the intruder, only to find a familiar figure, eyes blazing with fury.
“Akhos,” Dad growls, armored cape whipping in the wind stirred by his Ether. “How kind of you to show your face.”
Akhos stands alone at the entrance to the throne room, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. Dad’s wind intensifies around us, instinctively forming a protective barrier.
“And who is this?” Eulogiminos asks, rising slowly. His hand drifts toward the greataxe embedded beside the throne.
“A member of Torna,” Mórag says coldly, her twin blades already half-drawn. Brighid tenses behind her, one hand glowing with Ether, the other hovering above the dagger sheathed at her hip.
Brighid offers a razor-edged smile. “How generous of him, to deliver himself to us.”
Akhos’s grip tightens on his ornate greatbow. “Oh dear me.” He adjusts his crimson glasses, feigning calm as a manic smile begins to bloom. “Seems I’m a bit outnumbered, aren’t I?”
Zeke steps protectively in front of his younger brother. “What are you playing at, Akhos?”
The smile stretches wider, feral and thin. “Good thing I didn’t come alone.”
A flash of blinding light erupts at the room’s center.
When the glare fades, five hazy silhouettes stand before us.
Mythra and Jin are the first to step forward, shoulder to shoulder. Mythra wears a wicked grin that mirrors Akhos’s. Jin remains impassive, silent, cold, unreadable.
Phantylia stumbles out behind them. Her hair is tangled and knotted, wrapped loosely around her neck. Her wings drag the floor, dulled and lifeless. The light in her eyes has dimmed.
A jolt of worry lances through me. What has Mythra done to her?
Patroka and Perdido emerge last. She hefts the massive cannon gifted by the four-armed Blade beside her. The weapon hums with restrained power, waiting.
Mythra strolls toward one of the walls, her steps lazy, almost playful. She taps it lightly,
and in an instant, a glowing screen flares to life, nearly identical to the one Eulogiminos had been using.
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “Fascinating… It’s like this whole castle is built from a giant Core Crystal.”
Eulogiminos recoils as if struck, his face twisting in disbelief. “Th-that shouldn’t be possible. Only Zenobia or Pandoria’s Driver should be able to interface with that system!”
Mythra lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come now. Even the kid could poke around with these.”
She jerks a thumb toward Typhos, who blinks and instinctively takes a step back.
“I’m the Master Blade,” she purrs, tapping the cracked gem in her chest. “The one who carries the data of every Core that’s ever been. Damaged or not, this sort of thing?” She grins. “Child’s play.”
Then her eyes light up—an idea sparking like a flare behind them. Her smile widens into something dangerous.
“Well now… that’s a delightful thought.”
She slams her open palm into the interface.
The screen flashes with a burst of emerald light and vanishes into her hand like water down a drain.
Zenobia jerks upright, her body spasming as pain courses through her. She clutches her head, eyes wide with confusion and agony.
Mythra turns her wrist slowly, fingers still embedded in the wall.
Zenobia lets out a strangled gasp, falling to one knee as the connection tightens.
“Oh yes…” Mythra whispers, her voice honey-sweet and razor-sharp. “A direct link. Isn’t that poetic?”
She gives a playful little wave with her free hand.
“Bye-bye, dears. Enjoy spending some time with… my family.”
Before we can react, the ground splits open beneath our feet.
There’s no time to scream, only the rush of air and the sensation of falling into nothingness.
[MÓRAG]
We land upon stone, yet the impact is curiously gentle—unexpected, considering the depth from which we fell.
“This technology…” I murmur, sheathing my swords and kneeling to examine the dark stone beneath us. Threads of luminous emerald Ether pulse through it, weaving intricate patterns like veins beneath skin. “Truly extraordinary.”
“I concur,” Brighid responds, her tone precise, restrained, though not without interest.
The chamber we find ourselves in is fully enclosed, constructed entirely from the same dark stone. It is windowless, featureless, and illuminated only by the eerie, green luminescence radiating from the Ether veins. The effect is unsettling—like being submerged in a great, silent sea.
I rise, scanning the space carefully. “Rex, stay on your—”
I stop mid-sentence. The boy I expected to find at my side is nowhere to be seen.
In his place stands Tora.
Tora tilts his head, large eyes blinking. “Tora think Mórag confused,” he says helpfully.
Poppi, ever dutiful at his side, shakes her head. “Rex-Rex not even here.”
I turn on my heel, my gaze sweeping the chamber with renewed urgency. We are missing far more than one person.
Brighid frowns subtly, her hand drifting toward her dagger. “It seems we’ve been separated from the others.”
“Indeed.” I straighten, brushing a gloved hand against the hem of my uniform. “A deliberate maneuver, no doubt.”
Already, the air feels heavier. I do not believe we are merely lost.
We are being watched.
A hole, much like the one we plummeted from, flickers open in the ceiling, casting an ominous glow. Someone descends through it, landing with a calculated elegance that speaks of experience, not luck.
I recognize her immediately: Patroka, the terrorist. Her infamous multi-armed Blade stands beside her, its cannon already beginning to hum with suppressed energy.
She tosses her wild hair back and meets my gaze with a crooked smirk.
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Flamebringer.”
I decline to respond. To dignify a terrorist with banter would be beneath me.
Instead, I draw both swords, the familiar resonance of Ether flooding my grip. Steady. Controlled. Focused.
Patroka’s smirk falters. She bares her teeth. “Not much of a talker, are you?”
I raise one blade, pointing it directly at her.
“Trust me, we’ll have plenty to discuss once you’re in chains.”
She laughs—short, sharp, bitter.
“We’ll see, Inquisitor!”
Her cannon flares to life, bathing the chamber in volatile light.
[REGIS]
Wind cushions my descent, guiding me into a dimly lit chamber where the very walls seem to breathe with life. Emerald Ether snakes upward in impossible designs—none I can name, all of them unsettling.
But the wind is not mine.
Nia, Dromarch, and Crossette land beside me, none worse for wear.
“We’ve been separated,” I mutter, scanning the chamber’s edges, listening for footsteps that don’t belong to us.
Nia’s ears twitch, alert. With a flick of her wrist, her aqueous blade forms, its curved edge glinting like moonlight on deep water.
She casts a wary glance toward Dromarch and Crossette. “I wasn’t standing anywhere near you two. They wanted us together.”
Dromarch inclines his head, fur on edge. “Indeed. A deliberate arrangement, by all appearances.”
A voice echoes—smooth, playful, and venomous.
“My, my. What fun would it be to separate a Blade from their Driver?”
Mythra emerges from the shadows in a burst of light, her presence oppressive and gleeful. She raises her ruined sword toward us, grinning like a performer taking the stage.
“Sorry, dear,” she purrs to Nia, “but you and Rex don’t count.”
Nia narrows her eyes, ears flattening. “I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make.”
“Oh, but it is!” Mythra twirls like a dancer, her boots echoing against the stone. “Isn’t this wonderful? The Tantali built the perfect arena for an Aegis.”
I draw my blade, Ether-charged wind stirring around us, even in this place so far beneath the sky.
“What’s your game, Mythra?” My voice is firm. “You chose us intentionally.”
Her grin fades, replaced by something far colder.
“But of course,” she says. “You’re the children who slipped through my fingers.”
She takes a step forward, her massive sword vanishing in a shimmer of dust. She opens her arms, mockingly maternal.
“I’ve no desire to fight, little ones. Come back to
Mother.
”
Crossette recoils. “Uh, no thanks?”
I arch a brow, blade unwavering. “Yeah, not going to happen.”
Nia floats her blade midair, arms crossed. “Tried to kill us just a few too many times for that.”
Mythra exhales in mock exasperation. “Tch. Worth a try.”
Her weapon reforms in a flash, and she levels its point at us.
“Well then, my estranged,”
“En garde,”
[ZEKE]
I land.
Face first.
“Owww,” I groan, clutching my nose as pain sparks through my skull like fireworks. “That’s gonna leave a mark…”
Pandy drops in behind me, landing with the grace of a feather on a breeze. She starts giggling immediately.
“My Prince,” she says between laughs, “how did you manage to land like that?”
Syph appears beside her, barely holding it together. The Core Crystal on his waist gleams with a flicker of renewed energy, and I swear I can hear it laughing too.
Dad follows just behind them, boots thudding softly against the stone. Even he’s struggling not to crack a smile.
“It seems,” he says, voice amused, “that even we have underestimated your particular brand of ineptitude.”
I sigh, still rubbing my bruised face. “Not funny, guys.”
Syph snorts. “It’s hilarious.”
I push myself upright, scanning the room. Smooth, dark stone veined with Ether... more of the same strange architecture. But what really catches my eye isn’t the glowing walls or the unnerving quiet.
It’s who isn’t here.
I glance at Dad again—then at his side, where Zenobia should be.
Empty.
Before I can ask, a new hole yawns open above us. Three figures drop through.
Akhos hits the ground with a scowl already etched into his face. Beside him, that silver-haired woman, Phantylia, I think Rex called her, lands in an eerie, almost mechanical crouch. Her long hair clings to her shoulders like something alive, and the dim flicker of her Core Crystal doesn’t look... healthy.
Akhos radiates rage, bow already in hand and knuckles white around its grip.
And then, behind them, her.
Zenobia.
She stands eerily still for a heartbeat too long. Then her body jerks forward, twitching with every movement. Her eyes are vacant, Core Crystal flickering in erratic pulses. Something’s wrong.
Pandoria steps forward, panic sharpening her voice. “Zenobia! What’s wrong?!”
No answer.
Zenobia lifts her head—and her greataxe materializes with a menacing shimmer, crackling with Ether.
Syph gasps, putting both hands to his mouth. “When Mythra took over the castle…”
“…She took over Zenobia too.”'
[REX]
I land hard, boots scraping against smooth stone. The silence that follows is deafening.
I take a quick headcount. Just Gramps, Typhos, Pyra, Vandham, and Roc.
“Dammit,” I mutter, scanning the chamber. “They’ve separated us.”
The room is vast, but empty—no doors, no obvious exits. Just cold walls pulsing softly with Ether, the light shimmering like veins beneath dark crystal. The only sound is the low hum of energy running through the architecture itself.
A warm paw pats the back of my head. Gramps.
“Don’t lose your head, lad,” he says. “Keep your guard up.”
I nod, gripping the hilts on my back—Typhos and Pyra’s swords. But something tells me brute force won’t get us out.
I glance at Typhos. “Any chance you or Malos can get us through those walls? Mythra said you could use the interfaces.”
Typhos shakes his head, grim. “Even if I knew how… Mythra’s taken control. That path’s closed.”
Before I can reply, Pyra yanks me back. A silver blade slams into the ground right where I’d been standing.
“W–woah!” I gasp, stumbling.
“Stay sharp, Rex!” Pyra hisses, eyes flaring, her hair crackling with ether sparks.
From the center of the room, a figure materializes, silent, focused, dangerous.
Jin.
He pulls his sword from the floor with effortless grace, the same blank expression carved across his face beneath his mask.
Vandham steps forward, scythes already drawn. Roc flares with light behind him, Ether flowing to his Driver.
“Long time no see, Leader of Torna,” Vandham says, voice low and taut. “Plenty of comrades to avenge, ones who fell to your blade.”
Jin doesn’t flinch. “There are many who can claim that honor… old man.”
I draw both swords, their cores pulsing through me—fire and water intertwining, raw power dancing at my fingertips.
“This is for Fan,” I grit out, stepping forward. “For attempting to hurt her”
Jin finally reacts. His eyes sharpen. His jaw tenses.
“When you claim to fight for someone…” His voice rises.
He charges, blade screaming through the air.
“…at least use her true name!”
Notes:
Mwahaha, fight fight fight fight
Notice how Mythra said it was no fun to seperate a blade from their driver, but then immediately seperated herself from phantylia?
Hypocrisy at its finest baybee >:)
Chapter 69: Inquisitor's Stand
Summary:
The heroes are seperated, forced to face members of Torna in their own, individual environments controlled by their enemies.
Notes:
Woot, a Morag-centric chapter, and a chapter with a lot of fighting! I got a ton of help from a friend who's more experienced with fight scenes to help me out a bit, so hopefully this is a good read!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[MÓRAG]
A sprawling chamber yawns around us, broken only by floating stone platforms scattered like shattered glass across the stone ground.
Stone pillars shoot from the ground, supporting Patroka’s onslaught as she fires from on high.
Patroka rains fire from above, her Ether Cannon screeching with relentless fury. Bolts of pure energy shriek down from a dozen directions—more than her position should allow.
Each shot tears through the space like a scream.
The only light in the room comes from the flames wreathing in the air around me. They form a distorted mirage that turns my silhouette into smoke. The heat distorts my form, a dancing mirage flickering in faint candlelight.
“Grr—hold still, worm!” Patroka’s voice comes from everywhere at once, echoing like a ghost through the fire.
A shot flies past, narrowly missing me, ricocheting into a nearby wall.
“Mórag!” Tora lands beside me with Poppi’s assistance, his wings flaring to keep balance. “Tora look everywhere! No mechanisms, no Ether lines, not even cracks!”
Brighid stands beside me, her arm extended, flame coursing from her fingertips. Her expression is tight with focus.
“Then how is she controlling the terrain?” I murmur.
Another bolt lands at nearby. Closer. She’s honing in.
I kneel, speaking low but clearly to Tora, keeping my eyes trained on the next shot. “Tora… if I give you a plan—one with no room for improvisation—do you trust yourself to follow it?”
Tora straightens, puffing up with pride. “Even if Tora forgets… Poppi won’t! We believe in Lady Mórag!”
I lean in, whispering quickly. The fire drowns out my words, but I know Patroka can’t hear us over her own chaos.
Time to turn her own battlefield against her.
[NIA]
A hall of mirrors, stretching out in every direction, twisted and endless.
Dozens of false versions of myself echo each step I take, distorted and flickering just slightly off from my own movement. The reflections stretch and warp, creating a haunting illusion of infinity.
“Everything you see... is just the result of light’s refractions, dear.”
Mythra’s voice drips from every direction, smug and echoing, with no clear origin. It slinks across the mirrors like oil on water.
I scoff, spinning slowly, eyes scanning for any sign of my allies. “You done with the science lesson, mother dearest?” I snap, the edge in my voice sharp as my sword.
Of course, she separated us. Despite her talk, she went and placed each of us in different corners of her little maze—typical control freak move.
“My lady!” a voice cries out behind me.
My heart leaps. Dromarch! I whirl around.
Thud.
My face slams directly into a wall of glass.
Dromarch vanishes into the reflection as I stumble back, rubbing my nose. “Owww… bloody—”
Laughter floods the space, Mythra’s, high and cruel.
“You really shouldn’t trust everything you see, my dear.”
I growl, jaw tightening as I grip the hilt of my sword. Ether crackles to life in my palm, anger blooming hot in my chest.
“Why don’t you quit hiding and face us, Mythra!?” I yell, turning in place, scanning every reflection for movement.
My answer comes in the form of a grinning mirror, my reflection.
Only it’s not.
The smile doesn’t belong to me. It’s too wide. Too knowing.
Its foxlike ears twitch with amusement as it mimics my movements… until it doesn’t.
The reflection raises its sword, my sword, its watery blade glimmering with light. It points it directly at me.
Mythra’s voice spills from the reflection’s mouth.
“What fun would that be?”
[MÓRAG]
This girl, Patroka, has control over the very structure of this realm.
The arena bends to her will: floating platforms shifting, sniping posts from anywhere in the room, shots ringing out from impossible angles. Yet for all that, her aim is wild, her fury blind.
She cannot see us. Not directly.
If she could…
If she truly had dominion over our exact positions, no amount of heat distortion would matter.
My skill, Brighid’s shielding, even Tora’s aerial maneuvers, none of it would matter in the face of omniscience.
But she's missing.
Her attacks fire into the abyss, crashing into invisible walls, disappearing into the heat-hazed distance.
That tells me everything.
This is not a queen commanding a battlefield.
This is a frightened child throwing fire into shadows.
A glimmer of hope.
Tora rises through the haze above me, riding in Poppi’s arms as she navigates the swirling updrafts and scorched air. They're nearly invisible in the distortion, just a flicker of motion above the flickering platform lights.
They move in silence. They trust me.
And I trust them.
My role is simple.
Be seen. Be loud. Be dangerous.
All I must do is draw the lion’s gaze. Keep Patroka’s attention on the ground, on the immediate, on me.
A shot slams into the stone at my feet, heat washing over me like a tidal wave. I barely flinch.
Brighid braces beside me, her flame shielding us from the worst of the blast.
“She grows desperate,” she mutters.
“Good,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
Another round. Closer this time.
I want her to think she’s getting closer.
I want her to believe she’s flushed her prey into the open.
“Let her fire,” I whisper—loud enough that perhaps Tora and Poppi, if they’re close enough, might hear.
“Let her think she has a chance.”
From the suffocating haze, a massive silhouette emerges—four-armed, towering, distorted by the waves of heat.
A megalance bursts from the mist, cutting the air just beside me. I twist, letting it pass harmlessly by.
Then, glowing ether veins pulse into view along a horned, cylindrical head.
A Blade. Fighting at a distance from his Driver.
Fighting alone.
I smirk.
This may be a challenge after all.
My grip tightens on the hilts of my blades. My breathing slows.
A rhythm takes hold.
Just a little longer…
Let her rage. Let her burn.
Because she cannot stop what she cannot see.
And the real danger—
Is rising above her.
With all the fury of a Nopon genius and his mechanical Blade, primed for a precision strike.
Below, I move through fire and fury.
The monstrous Blade’s strikes become sharper now, disciplined, relentless.
But still distant.
Useless if they don’t connect.
A parry.
A sidestep.
A low sweep, met with a flash of Brighid’s flame.
Our battle becomes a dance—one of steel and timing, Ether and held breath.
All the while, her cannon shots ring out from the distance, each one wide, each one wasted.
And then,
“GRAAAHHH!”
Her scream splits the air, raw and furious.
Across the platform, the Affinity Link flickers, weak and strained, like a taut wire fraying under tension.
Her Blade fights well, independently, precisely, but it’s too far.
Too far to protect her. Too far to share strength.
She gave him that space. Gave him trust.
And in another world, one not ruled by madness, that trust might’ve reminded me of Rex.
But in this world…
She chose her opponent poorly.
An explosion rocks the earth beside me, close enough to tear the hat from my head.
I catch it midair with one hand, brushing the soot off the brim with a flick of my sleeve.
“I’ve gotcha now, Flamebringer!”
Her shriek pierces through the haze.
She levels her cannon, hands shaking, rage warping her aim.
“Eat my fire, girl!”
She never gets the chance.
“MEH-MEEEHH!! DOUBLE-SPINNING… TORA SMAAAASH!!”
Tora descends like a divine meteor, Poppi dive-bombing through the haze like an arrow loosed from the heavens.
His shield glints with impact-bound fury and crashes into Patroka’s skull with a thunderous THWACK that echoes like a gong through the molten air.
Her cannon clatters to the ground.
Her knees buckle.
Eyes wide in disbelief, she crumples.
As if bound to her collapse, the constructed battlefield around us trembles and collapses inward, melting away.
We stand once more in the arena from which we began.
[REX]
“Malos!”
Typhos vanishes in a ripple of light, replaced mid-step by Malos. His Core flares behind me, and the air hums with dangerous resonance.
In one smooth motion, I toss Pyra’s sword back to her. She catches it easily, already reading my intent.
My hands tighten around Malos’ heavier blade. Its weight is brutal—but familiar.
I pivot, planting my foot, and swing the weapon through empty air. A sigil ignites in the hilt—a jagged, burning symbol, pure white and seething with power.
“ Monado Armor! ”
A shield erupts around me, crystalline and translucent, just in time.
Jin’s blade crashes against the shield with a sharp clang, the impact flaring across the barrier like lightning on glass.
His sword dissolves on contact with Malos’ Shield, shattering like vapor.
But he doesn’t pause.
In the same breath, Jin twists his body, and slams the butt of his blade into my ribs after the barrier fades a moment too soon.
“Tch—!”
Pain shoots through my side as I stumble back, grit my teeth, and reset my stance.
Jin says nothing. His eyes burn like frost.
His movements are unreadable, each step smooth but sharp—like ice cutting through fog. His face stays frozen in rage, unreadable and unwavering.
“Vandham!” I shout, never taking my eyes off the threat in front of me. “Look for a way out!”
Jin doesn't blink.
“It’s pointless.” His voice cuts through the air like steel. “We have complete control over this arena.”
Vandham clicks his tongue and steps beside me, scythes low and ready. “He’s not wrong, kid. We’ll have to hold out. Maybe someone’ll bring Mythra down from the inside.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Pyra steps between us, her body already glowing with Ether as her sword hums to life. She winces, glancing around the space. “These aren’t Mythra’s constructs... they’re sourced from Zenobia.”
Jin lifts his blade, now reforged in a flash of crimson. The energy it radiates twists the very air around it.
“Let’s see how long you last, child.”
And then he charges.
[MÓRAG]
Her control shatters.
The shimmering haze dissolves, and with it, the conjured heights and sprawling chaos.
We return to the plain, cold reality of the arena, the rectangular chamber where this began.
Stone walls. Abstract Ether veins. The scorched floor beneath us.
It’s over.
Patroka crumples to her knees, clutching her skull with trembling hands.
Her breaths are shallow, ragged.
Across from her, her Blade stands proud. Four arms grip its multiple weapons, face tense in stoic solidarity with its master.
I sigh, low and measured.
The heat of battle fades from my limbs.
My blades whisper as they slide back into their scabbards.
“I’ve no wish for more conflict, girl,” I say evenly.
I approach slowly. Carefully.
“You’re spent. You’ve pushed your body past its limit.” My voice softens. “The bodies of men are not meant to channel such power, so wildly, so distant from he who offers the power.”
I stop just before her and offer a hand. Open. Unthreatening.
My voice is soft, not in pity, but in understanding.
“Let’s end this.”
Because despite everything… despite the destruction, the recklessness, the fire,
She truly is just a girl.
Angry. Misguided. But still… a girl.
For a long, fragile moment, she doesn’t move.
Her shoulders shake—not from fear, but from sheer exhaustion. Her fingers twitch at her sides.
I do not lower my hand.
A second passes. Then another.
Her breathing slows. Her head dips forward, shadowing her face beneath tangled strands of hair.
I hope, truly hope, she’s about to accept.
Then she lifts her gaze.
And I see it.
Not fear. Not defeat. Not even pain.
Rage.
A deep, all-consuming hatred that glows like molten iron behind her eyes.
She slaps my hand aside.
It’s not a dramatic strike—more a weak, defiant swat—but it speaks volumes.
She stumbles as she rises, her legs trembling beneath her. Every movement is unsteady, born of both of confidence and sheer stubbornness.
Still, she gets to her feet.
Then I see it.
A soft, azure glow shimmers in her chest, beneath her ash-stained white coat, her thin black shirt.
But something else pulses beneath it.
Pink.
Faint, at first—almost a trick of the light.
But it grows with every heartbeat, like something buried clawing its way to the surface.
I step back, left hand drifting toward my sword by instinct.
The light spills into her palm.
From it, a crystalline sapphire Core emerges, but laced with unnatural color, shimmering with blue and pink in perfect contradiction.
The weapon forms instantly.
Ether condenses around her in spiraling waves, drawn into a new construct—a massive, curved blade affixed to a long shaft.
It’s too long for a halberd. Too heavy for a glaive.
The shape locks into clarity.
A bardiche.
Razor-sharp, unbalanced, brutal.
A weapon not meant for defense, but for execution.
The air around her hums with power. I can feel the Ether distort in waves, like the battlefield itself is bracing for what’s to come.
My voice escapes before I can stop it, quiet and cold.
“…A Flesh Eater.”
It’s not a question.
It’s an answer to every unease I’ve felt about her. The erratic control. The way her Blade trembled when she flared, her utter overuse of power. The unnatural strength that flickered too brightly, too fast.
I hadn’t dared name it until now.
“No wonder…” I murmur, mostly to myself.
“No wonder you seemed… unpolished, trying to Drive another Blade.”
Because she was never meant to.
With every pulse of light from the Core Crystal buried beneath her clothing, her trembling lessens.
The unsteady sway of her knees stills.
Her shoulders pull back.
The wild, reckless desperation in her eyes begins to shift, refined into something colder, sharper.
Purpose.
Her Blade releases a weapon, a single hand freed to reach towards his Driver with genuine concern.
She knocks it aside without so much as a glance.
“Leave me alone, Perdido.”
Her voice is no longer ragged.
It is firm, low, and seething.
“Don’t get in my way.”
My eyebrows tense. Her Blade deserves better.
I draw my weapons in one fluid motion, the metal ringing with finality.
“Tora,” I say, calm but commanding. “You’ve done well. Leave the rest to me.”
He jumps slightly, fluffy form tensed and trembling.
Patroka shakes her head, rage contorting her face. “Oh, no, no, no!” She points her weapon at me, baring her teeth in a snarl. “Both you and that
rat
are dead!”
“Tora not done yet!” he protests. “Can still help!”
I allow a small smile, patting the boy on the head.
“Then take care of her Blade. Don’t hurt it.”
Tora hesitates. Then nods, expression flickering, but he ultimately follows my lead.
Across from me, Patroka raises her weapon, the massive bardiche glowing with a shimmering edge.
Her eyes lock with mine, burning with hatred so hot it almost silences the room.
“Still feigning concern, are you, Flamebringer?” she spits.
The Ether haze dances off her blade like heat off desert sand.
I shake my head slowly, never breaking eye contact.
“Not everything has to be a facade, you know.”
Her nostrils flare. Her jaw tightens. That flicker of humanity, of vulnerability, vanishes behind a rising wave of rage.
She lunges.
[ZEKE]
“Get back, Syph!” I roar, bringing my immaculate Big-Bang Edge down to clash with Zenobia’s greataxe.
The impact explodes in a blast of wind, Ether ripping through the chamber like a hurricane.
Pandy stumbles back, shielding Syph with her body as best she can. I plant my feet, gritting my teeth as Zenobia pushes forward, eyes vacant, Core Crystal pulsing erratically.
They keep aiming for him, for Syph. They can see he’s the weak point. And it’s taking everything Pandy and I have just to keep them from cutting him down.
The battle unfolds in a massive circular chamber beneath the castle, the ceiling arched like a cathedral of stone and steel. A towering cannon looms in the center, glowing faintly with restrained power.
Akhos dances at the controls, his grin wide, eyes manic. His fingers blur across the interface like a concert pianist performing a dirge.
“Let’s light up the sky,” he hums, laughing to himself.
“We need to stop him, Zeke!” Dad roars, swinging his greataxe through Phantylia’s blade. Sparks rain from the clash, steel grinding against crystal.
“How!?” I shout back, struggling against Zenobia’s frenzied blows. “What even IS that thing!?”
“An Ether Accelerator,” Dad grunts. “Old technology, belonged to our ancestors. Your grandfather obsessed over it. He thought it’d put Tantal at the top, make us gods of war. It nearly cost us everything.”
Zenobia howls, no, shrieks, and I shove her back with a surge of lightning, crackling along the edges of my blade.
“Pandy!” I call, voice hoarse.
“Got it!” Her hands glow, our bond flaring with synchronized light.
I leap skyward, our Affinity Link channeling raw, storm-born energy into my core. Time slows. My pulse syncs with the immaculate crackling of our divine-borne thunder.
“Ultimate Lightning Fury Slash: MAX!!”
I bring the blade down like divine judgment.
The sigil explodes beneath Zenobia’s feet, tendrils of lightning lashing the room, grounding in her Core. She spasms violently, collapsing to her knees, Core Crystal flickering like a dying star.
Across the room, Phantylia staggers. Her movements are off, sluggish. Her crystalline scythe drags behind her, her wings drooping like torn silk. Something’s wrong with her. She doesn’t move like a Blade.
Dad clashes with her all the same, steel greataxe clashing with scythe.
Despite her haggard appearance and stumbling movements, she moves gracefully, dancing on fairylike legs to sweep her weapon in broad, graceful arcs. Her weapon seems to fade in and out of existence, crackling with silver lightning to crash down on Dad with beautiful force.
“My Prince!” Pandy calls, pointing to the cannon in the center of the room. “We need to move, now!”
[MÓRAG]
A Blade is born with immaculate knowledge—an innate mastery of weapon and Ether alike.
While I am told Aegises are different, requiring training… and trust…
Patroka is no Aegis.
Her bardiche crashes down like a falling star, ether-forged steel screeching as our weapons clash.
The earth beneath us—stone meant to be unyielding—twists and warps beneath her force.
Every strike shatters my footing, breaking the rhythm of my blade. My swordplay falters—refined technique reduced to desperate evasion.
I grit my teeth. Recenter. Regain my ground.
Patroka grins—unhinged, emboldened—weapon braced for another swing.
“Losing your cool, Flamebringer?”
Across the room, Perdido and Tora exchange blows—megalance against greatshield, chroma katana clashing with mechanical arms.
But there’s no heat in their battle. No conviction.
A facade.
Her words wounded more than his shield ever could.
A shame.
Perdido is a warrior. But this is not his fight anymore.
I twist my arms.
The segmented lengths of my blades unravel—fiery whips coiling and sparking.
I surge forward.
The flaming whips lash like serpents, striking, coiling, pressuring.
“Azure, Form the Second: Radiance!”
I pivot sharply, slashing the whips wide.
Patroka blocks—but I anticipated it. The whips wrap around her bardiche, heat shimmering through the entangled steel.
I yank, disarming her with a sharp twist.
Her weapon flies free. I cast it aside, along with my own, trusting Brighid to follow through.
“Lady Mórag!” Brighid’s voice rings out, twin blades forming in a flash of Ether.
One blade appears in my hand. The other remains with her.
She rushes to my side.
Our blades extend, fiery whips transforming into swords of radiant heat.
We move together, striking in a unified arc—fire dragging in brilliant chains across Patroka’s exposed form.
She stumbles back, reaching, desperate, to summon her bardiche.
Our fire does not allow it.
Strike after strike, Each blow forged of discipline and purpose, not fury.
Our voices rise in tandem, Affinity Link flaring into a chain of gold light that binds us in purpose.
“ Azure, Form the Third: Soulfire! ”
Orbs of flame condense—miniature suns, glowing with radiant azure light.
They swirl around us, humming with power. Then, all at once—
They surge toward Patroka, streaks of burning brilliance.
The impact engulfs her in a blazing storm of fire and Ether.
She screams—raw and furious—before collapsing to her knees.
Her coat hangs in scorched tatters. Her hair, once immaculate and sharp, now hangs in burnt strands.
She trembles, smoldering, as I approach with measured steps.
She lifts her head, eyes burning with pain and hatred.
Her body shakes as she tries to rise, but her limbs betray her.
“I… I’m not done… not yet!” she hisses through clenched teeth.
Tora and Perdido have stopped their clash, silent now, watching from opposite sides of the battlefield.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my voice calm.
“But that is not your choice to make.”
No more words. There’s no need.
I raise my blade and bring the hilt crashing down upon her skull.
She crumples at my feet. Still. Silent.
Notes:
Whaddya think? I'm happy with how this turned out.
Chapter 70: Distortion
Summary:
Regis and Nia are faced with memories of their past, while Zeke and Rex are forced to confront their futures
Chapter Text
[REGIS]
Dammit.
Mirrors. Endless in number, stretching into infinity in every direction.
I clench my fists. “Mythra, do you have to be such a pain in the ass every time?”
Her laugh echoes, overlapping itself in a chorus from a dozen angles.
“So foul-mouthed, dear.”
My eye twitches. “Ha-ha. Cut the games.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Honestly…” Her voice lingers, laced with teasing amusement. “The fruit didn’t fall far from the tree. It’s uncanny how much Rex resembles you. Did your wife’s genes even bother showing up?”
I grit my teeth.
“As proud as I am of the man he’s become…” I narrow my eyes, glancing around, “…I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“You must be worried about him.”
Her voice shifts, no longer dispersed. One direction. One point of origin.
I pivot toward it, every muscle tensing.
So that’s the game, then.
If I can find her, fight her, maybe this fractured hellscape will collapse.
Maybe the castle will reset.
I press forward through the corridor, surrounded on all sides by glass.
Mirrors reflect my every movement—countless simulacrums mimicking me with eerie synchronicity. Their cautious steps feel like mockery. Shadows of hesitation that I no longer have the luxury of indulging.
Still, I smirk despite myself.
“You’re wrong, Mythra. He reminds me of his mother in more ways than you’ll ever understand.”
Her voice trickles down the corridor, sweet as honey, smooth as poison.
“Aww, isn’t that sweet. I suppose you’d know better than I.”
The sound seems to come from the end of the hall, though I know better than to trust it.
It’s too neat. Too clean.
Too easy.
Then—
A scream. Hoarse. Pained.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
I whip around, bolting in the opposite direction, toward the echo of agony.
No way. There’s no possible way.
How does she know that voice? How could she mimic it that well?
My boots thunder against the glass floor, my chest tight, my lungs burning.
It can’t be…
“ Reyna! ”
The name rips from my throat like a blade.
My heartbeat hammers behind my ribs like a war drum.
I burst into a circular chamber—its walls a mosaic of fractured mirrors, ornate and cruel.
Each shard reflects a twisted, distorted image of me:
Horrified. Panting. Broken.
A thousand fragments of the same haunted face.
Another scream splits the air, identical to the last—identical to hers.
It carves through me like glass. Through my body. Through my soul.
Her scream. That day.
The day I should have died.
How?
“Reyna!” I scream again, my voice cracking, mingling with the nightmare echo.
It reverberates in the broken glass around me, harmonizing in some cruel parody of grief.
The memory claws its way to the surface.
Smoke. Fire. The screams.
Her scream.
My knees hit the floor, hands over my ears.
Useless.
The sound finds me anyway. The memory finds me anyway.
That same fear.
Piercing. Crushing.
The dread of losing everything again—
Just when I’d begun to believe I hadn’t.
Another cry pierces the chamber.
Softer. Younger.
Rex’s voice.
And then, Reyna’s.
The two cries entwine in perfect, merciless harmony,
twisting through the mirrored air, boring into my skull, shattering every last shard of resolve I had left.
I fall.
Not in defiance.
Not in rage.
But in ruin.
I collapse to the floor, no longer a warrior, just a pile of fear and tears,
folded into myself as the past devours me whole.
[REX]
“Jin! Why do you fight against us!?”
My voice strains against the weight of his blows, each strike threatening to shatter my bones.
“What has Mythra offered you to make you stand beside her?!”
Jin’s mask is blank. Cold.
“You still don’t understand,” he says flatly. “Are you truly that blind?”
His gaze shifts to Malos.
Disappointment bleeds through his tone.
“Do you enjoy keeping your Drivers naive and foolish?”
Malos stiffens, his expression darkening.
His arms fall to his sides.
The Affinity Link between us snaps, vanishing like a broken chain.
“…The kid’s got a point,” Malos says, tilting his head, eyes narrowing
“Just why do you fight alongside her?”
Something cracks.
Jin’s mask falters, his voice rising with fury.
“Because she has a plan for this broken world, Aegis!” he shouts.
“You think I want this?”
His hand tightens around his blade.
“This world hates us!”
He steps forward, voice shaking.
“Blades are granted godlike power by our so-called Creator …and yet we’re doomed to forget everything!”
I try to meet his gaze. I nod, barely.
But Malos’ sword in my grip grows heavier.
Jin’s voice deepens, vibrating with grief and rage.
“All that we are, all that this world is, is memory. A staircase made of footsteps. And we Blades—”
His teeth grit.
“We’re the rungs. The tools. The fodder for humanity’s climb.”
His voice rises, fierce with conviction.
“Why does Indol control the Core Crystals? Why their so-called ‘purification’ rituals?
It’s because they want to control us. To chain us.”
His glare burns through me.
“It forces us to stay stagnant, powerless, while humanity decides our worth.
We don’t have a culture. We aren’t allowed one.
Because Indol says so.
Because humans say so.”
The sword in my hands is heavy.
Almost too heavy to lift.
“…Jin…”
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.
“And until you understand why that is a problem, why that is something worth fighting for… Mythra is the only one I’ll place my faith in.”
I take a step forward.
“And taking Malos helps with that how!?
My voice cracks.
“Killing Fan—how does that help anyone!?”
The heat rises to my throat, my words trembling.
“You talk like you care about people—like you care about the world.
But your actions… they don’t match!
You’re hurting people, Jin. You’re hurting Blades!
How does this make anything better!?”
My eyes fall to the cold, unbroken stone beneath our feet.
Still. Untouched.
As if all this pain leaves no mark at all.
“…I could’ve helped you.” My voice is softer now. Honest.
I look up, meeting his eyes. “I still can. If Indol is the problem, then I’ll talk to Amalthus.
We don’t have to fight.”
My gaze falls again. I look hard at the sword in my hand.
“I just… don’t understand.”
I swallow hard.
“You seemed so protective of Fan… like you cared about her.”
I shake my head slowly.
“But you tried to kill her. Why?”
“Her name is Haze,” Malos says flatly, arms crossed.
“If I had to guess, it’s because of her Core Crystal.”
Pyra steps forward, her voice soft.
She lifts her hands to her chest, forming a diamond between her fingers.
“...It should be shaped like this.”
Jin's tone is quieter now—almost mournful, but still sharp.
“That man you still believe you can reason with, Amalthus, he mutilated her. Carved a chunk of her soul from her chest. Stripped her of her name. Then told her she was ‘Fan la Norne.’ Goddess of the Praetorium.”
I stumble a step back.
The pieces fall into place.
Addam’s warning. Jin’s fury. Malos’s unease around Fan, no, Haze.
Jin’s gaze cuts into me.
“Until this ‘ Fan la Norne’ is dead, Haze will never be able to rest.” Jin grits his teeth, “You wonder why Amalthus forced you into that farce of a ceremony? Why Indol’s defenses just happened to be weak enough for a terrorist attack? Why Mythra was able to stroll in without resistance to take back our allies? Why you were allowed to die, right there on that stage?”
He tilts his head, voice cold as steel.
“It all circles back to that man.”
My shock is only accentuated by the sharp cracking of stone, the dissolving of the room around us.
In an instant, our arena fades into nothingness, the cold surroundings breaking around us as the throne room reforms.
[NIA]
Regis’s cries echo through the hall of mirrors, our shared prison amplifying his pain until it becomes my own.
I run—through endless corridors, through Mythra’s laughter, through the summoned screams of my father and sister.
I know they aren’t real.
They can’t be.
But they still pierce me straight into my Core, ripping open wounds I thought had long since scarred.
Still, I run.
Like I did in those days after they were gone.
Running from my past, from myself, from the shimmering Core Crystal in my chest.
My only companions now are the fractured reflections of my tear-streaked face.
Dromarch’s screaming now.
Then Crossette. Rex. Typhos. Mórag. Vandham.
Nia. Corvin. Brighid. Tora. Poppi. Nia.
Nia.
Nia.
Nia.
The name grows louder with every echo.
Like a curse.
Like a plea.
Like a punishment.
Nia. Nia. Nia.
I clutch my head and stumble. The corridors twist like molten glass.
I see her, me, in every shard.
The monster. The Blade. The cannibal.
The little girl who buried her sister under a tree and pretended she didn’t care.
I slam my fist into a mirror. It cracks, a jagged web spreading across it—
But the reflection doesn’t shatter.
She smiles at me.
The world spins.
Dromarch’s voice returns, gentler now, but strained:
“My Lady... please, get—...”
“I’m trying!” I scream.
My voice cracks, sharp and broken, like the mirror beneath my knuckles.
“I am trying—!”
The laughter stops.
A silence falls, heavy and absolute.
Then a voice, soft, unfamiliar, but so close:
“You have to wake up, My Lady!”
[ZEKE]
The Ether Accelerator roars to life, its lights pulsing violently in the dim room.
The air goes still. Thick. Charged. Between the hum of energy, Zenobia’s spasming frame, and Dad locked in a deadlock with Phantylia, my senses are overwhelmed.
The Bringer of Chaos—overstimulated?
I turn toward Dad, hoping he knows how to shut it off.
His eyes flick to me, then to the cannon at the center of the room.
A decision crosses his face in an instant.
“Aha!” Akhos crows.
The cannon ignites.
The Ether Accelerator begins to spin violently.
It drinks Ether from the air, compressing it into a single, pulsing sphere—deep crimson, alive, and screaming with power. The hum rattles my chest like a second heartbeat. Too fast. Too scared.
Too final.
“Zeke!” Dad shouts.
I turn just in time to see him launch Phantylia across the chamber. She hits the far wall, motionless.
Then, without hesitation, he grabs Syph and throws him.
“What—!?”
I catch him, barely. The force knocks us both back.
Pandoria softens the fall, but the moment still crushes more than just my chest.
We hit the floor beside Zenobia, who lies motionless, steam rising from her frame.
Together. On the ground.
Syph coughs. “W-what’s happening…?”
I look up.
Dad is smiling.
Not bitter.
Not weary.
Smiling.
It’s the first time I’ve seen that expression since Mom died.
He raises his arm, revealing the bracelet.
That old, clunky thing he always wore. I’d seen him fiddle with it my whole life, never knowing what it was for.
He presses the button.
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” he says, voice calm, steady. “Take care of your brother.”
“Dad, NO!”
I shove Syph aside, scrambling to my feet—
He doesn’t run.
He doesn’t flinch.
He just stands there. Watching. Proud.
Then, the floor drops.
My world lurches.
Syph screams as we fall together—
And the last thing I see is Dad's smile, and a sun going supernova.
Crimson Ether erupts toward him—
And then:
Nothing.
Just dark.
[REGIS]
The vision shatters, torn apart by the deafening roar of an explosion.
We’re back.
In the chamber where it all began.
Mythra stands at its center, smiling.
“How unfortunate,” she sighs, brushing a strand of hair off her shoulder. “Should’ve told Akhos to leave the Driver alive.”
Green Ether flickers on her arm—her interface—but it’s fading. Her grip is slipping. The terminal dissolves into scattered motes of light.
A tear slips down my cheek.
Memories slam into me—like waves breaking over a fragile dock.
Across the chamber, Dromarch and Crossette are kneeling beside Nia’s unconscious form, gently nudging her.
Anger boils in my chest.
“Mythra! What was the point of that!?”
She smirks.
“You fought so hard to leave my family,” she says, voice cruel and light, “so I thought I’d give you a preview of what happens to your new one.”
She tilts her head, unhinged.
“Your memories had so much... flavor. I’m glad you both had Core Crystals. Gave me front-row seats.”
I surge to my feet—
But before I can reach her, the chamber bends, warps—
And the arena fades.
Stone grinds. Shadows twist.
And, in the end, we’re in the throne room once more.
Notes:
Hope I handled this well. Tried to bring up the whole "blades are suffering!" aspect cuz I managed to forget that very important plot point... thank u to the commenter for reminding me....
first time killing off a character who isn't a bad guy. woops. Rip Eulogiminos, you will be missed. Probably.
Oh yeah, rex's mom name reveal! Reyna means queen, matching regis and rex who mean king :) Sorry regis(I will do it again)
Chapter 71: Conviction
Summary:
The castle reforms, and the conflict against Mythra begins
Notes:
Heya, it's been a while! Life got busy.
Next chapter should be pretty big. I have a lot planned, so hopefully I can live up to my own expectations. Fight scenes are rough... but I wanna do this justice!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
With a resounding CRASH, the castle shifts back into place.
Green Ether surges through the walls, flickering and sputtering as the structure reassembles itself into its original form.
We’re no longer separated. The group now stands reunited in the center of the room—shaken, but mostly intact.
Mórag and Tora are coated in ash, Nia and Dad look dazed and furious, but otherwise unharmed.
But what draws my attention...
Is Zeke and Syph.
At first glance, they seem physically fine. No wounds, no noticeable injuries.
But they’re the only ones who haven’t gotten up, both seated on the cold stone floor, silent tears tracing lines down their cheeks.
Lying beside them is a Core Crystal, dull, colorless, lifeless.
A sharp contrast to the vibrant one still gleaming on Syph’s belt.
Eulogiminos and Zenobia are gone, nowhere to be seen.
The only Blade missing from our side is Corvin, but I know where he is.
His Core Crystal rests safely within my armor, tucked away somewhere no blade can reach.
Still… the castle is whole again.
Someone had to restore it.
There’s only one explanation:
Mythra must’ve relinquished control back to Zenobia.
Or…
Mythra lost access entirely.
But the only way that could have happened…
Is if she returned to her Core Crystal.
My breath catches. My hands fly to my mouth as the truth dawns on me.
“Addam above…”
“What a cliché,” Akhos purrs, adjusting his crimson glasses. “A father sacrificing himself for his sons.”
Torna stands arrayed before us, still defiant, but their formation is faltering. Patroka lies unconscious at Jin’s feet.
Perdido is slumped against the far wall, seemingly stripped of the will to fight.
And at the center of it all, Mythra and Jin stand side by side, with Phantylia trembling behind her.
Zeke rises to his feet, his face twisted with fury as he glares daggers at Akhos.
“He saved us from you , you bastard!” he roars, fists trembling at his sides. “He was so much more than some... cliché!”
Akhos merely laughs, rolling his eyes with theatrical disdain.
“If the shoe fits, Your Majesty. ”
Syph doesn’t react.
His gaze remains locked on the lifeless Core Crystal beside him, the one that holds Zenobia.
His eyes shimmer with tears that refuse to fall.
One hand drifts instinctively to the Core Crystal on his belt, fingers tightening around it as if, somehow, he could still pull his father back, as if sheer will alone could undo the final blow of a battle already lost.
Mythra strides forward, her heels clicking against the stone as she looms over the trembling Syph. A cruel smile curls on her lips before her gaze shifts, locking onto me.
“You see, boy,” she says, her voice ringing out across the chamber, “this is what happens when you fight us.”
Her tone drips with satisfaction, her expression twisting into something far too pleased.
“You make friends, and you watch them die. You make allies, and they suffer for your mistakes.”
She scans our group slowly, like a predator sizing up the remains of its kill.
“I couldn’t help but notice… someone’s missing.”
Her head tilts in mock curiosity. “That sweet little blonde boy… what was his name? Corvin, wasn’t it?”
My hand shoots to the pouch at my side, the one where I’ve kept Corvin’s Core Crystal hidden away as if by instinct, as if that alone could shield him from her.
Mythra leans in close, her golden hair spilling down her shoulders like liquid sunlight.
Her voice drops to a whisper, smooth and venomous.
“Could it be…”
A pause.
“That you’ve been too afraid to awaken him… after your little screw-up ?”
Her words slice into me—sharp, deliberate, striking something deep within.
In a slow, deliberate motion, she taps the Core Crystal in my chest, taunting me with even it's presence In my chest
“Even now, you haven’t suffered enough.” Akhos hisses..
His gaze shifts to Patroka’s unconscious form.
“First Obrona, and now Patroka!?” Akhos yells, throwing an arm to his side. “Is there anyone who won’t attempt to slaughter?!”
Mórag’s eyes narrow as she tilts her head to the side. “Says the man who just killed a king .”
Akhos grits his teeth, face contorting in a silent snarl.
Mythra turns away from me, strolling back toward Jin with a careless grace.
“It’s clear you don’t understand what family means, dear.”
She stops, arms outstretched in a mockery of warmth, then slowly turns to face us again.
“A family protects one another,” she says sweetly, placing a hand beneath Akhos’ chin and tilting his head up to meet her gaze.
“And when we can’t protect them… we avenge them.”
Her golden eyes gleam, brilliant, yet cold, as her smile widens, radiant with cruelty.
“This is what it means to be the Lifebearer. To nurture. To cherish those you love.”
She steps forward slightly, her tone tightening.
“And yet you, for all your talk of bonds, you’ve rejected those values.”
“You made your father fight—dragged him into battle mere moments after reuniting.”
She tilts her head, feigning pity.
“You say you love that woman beside you… Yet you let her bleed at your side, fight your battles, carry your burdens.”
I stumble forward, heart pounding.
“I-It’s not like that! I’m not forcing them!”
She tilts her head again—same angle, same piercing eyes.
Her stare tears into me like glass.
“Are you sure?” she murmurs.
“Have you ever asked them?”
“I—well, no…” I murmur, eyes dropping to the floor. “But… I’d never force them to do anything…”
“And that,” Mythra hisses, her voice sharp as a blade, “is exactly why you’re nothing but a child.”
She steps forward, golden eyes alight with fury.
“You assume. You command. All while pretending it’s for their good. You drag your so-called friends behind you like some kind of—”
“Enough!”
Syph’s voice cuts through the chamber like lightning.
He rises shakily to his feet, both hands clenched around the Core Crystal glowing at his side.
“Quit it with your self-righteous nonsense!”
Nia steps up beside me, her fingers lacing gently into mine.
She smiles—softly, reassuringly—but her gaze toward Mythra is cold steel.
“Do you really think we can’t choose for ourselves?” she asks, her voice steady, unwavering.
“You think we follow him because we’re forced? No. We fight because of you.”
Syph steps forward, jaw tight, voice trembling with intensity.
“You’re the reason we draw our weapons. You’re why we stand and keep standing.”
Akhos smirks, casually adjusting his glasses.
“Oh? The little lion cub found his voice.”
He glances skyward in mock reflection.
“Funny. Last I checked, you weren’t fighting at all. Big words for a child who couldn’t even make the ensemble.”
Syph wavers—shoulders hitching under the sting of Akhos’ words. For a moment, he seems to shrink beneath their weight.
I reach toward him. “Syph, you don’t have to—”
“I’m not doing this for you, Rex!”
His voice cracks as a single tear escapes down his cheek.
“I am the Crown Prince of Tantal! The one who has to carry the weight of the throne now that Father is gone!”
In one swift motion, he rips the Core Crystal from his belt and raises it high.
Azure light blazes from within, brighter with every heartbeat, fed by the force of his resolve.
“I have to fight. Not for you. Not for me, but for the world !”
His voice rises with the glow, echoing through the chamber like a war cry.
“And until the day peace truly comes… I’ll do my part!”
Blinding azure light erupts from the Core Crystal, tearing through the air like a living force. I shield my eyes as the glow intensifies, brilliant, overwhelming, answering Syph’s prayer with divine urgency.
The Core floats upward, suspended in a radiant vortex.
From its heart, a massive weapon begins to form—a megalace of immense size, coalescing in Syph’s grasp.
Sapphire, insectoid blades shimmer into place, branching outward from a central obsidian pole like the limbs of some divine predator.
Then, the light shifts—converging, folding inward.
It condenses into a towering humanoid form, obsidian armor locking into place with a mechanical click that echoes through the chamber.
The Blade emerges from the ether, fully formed, solid, grounded, real.
Gone is the shuddering, spectral silhouette that once danced like a puppet under Endbringer’s control.
Now, it stands as a force of its own will, its midnight carapace pulsing with silent, amethyst light.
The figure is monstrous: towering and terrible, with a snarling, inhuman face carved into its helm.
Spines, horns, and jagged spires jut from every inch of its body, like a fortress turned warrior, a beast of war molded by conviction.
As if compelled by a silent agreement, Syph launches the megalance towards the monstrous Blade.
The towering Blade seizes its massive weapon in a single hand, unflinching beneath its crushing weight.
With a thunderous roar, it swings the megalace in a wide, devastating arc—straight at Mythra and her so-called family.
Dark fire crackles to life along the weapon’s length, amethyst sparks dancing in violent spirals.
The very air distorts around it.
Mythra reacts instantly. Her greatsword bursts into being with a flash of golden radiance, raised to meet the strike.
Steel meets ether.
A deafening crack splits the air, followed by a concussive pulse of violet light that ripples across the chamber.
Her blade doesn’t hold.
It shatters on contact, disintegrating into glimmering dust that scatters like ash in the wind.
Her eyes widen. For one brief, fatal moment, she falters.
She leaps backward just in time, breath sharp, startled.
The megalace continues its arc, slamming into the castle floor with a sickening crunch, cleaving through solid stone like butter.
The ground quakes beneath us.
And for the first time, Mythra looks truly shaken.
The obsidian-clad Blade reorients itself, dragging its weapon back into a defensive stance. It's every movement that radiates grim purpose.
“GRAAAAAAGHHHH!”
It bellows, the castle walls vibrating with the sheer force of its voice.
A sound not of anger, but of a challenge.
Akhos stumbles back, eyes wide.
“Wh-what is that thing!?”
Mythra grimaces, expression hardening.
“That bastard…”
Her gaze slides to Malos, mouth curling into a crooked smile.
“Well. That’s a surprise. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Malos smirks, arms folding across his chest.
“Can’t take the credit. Thank our dear brother for this one.”
Pyra steps forward, her sword flashing into existence with a radiant flare. She offers a grim smile.
“To alter a Blade’s nature… change their elemental affinity… Only Omega could pull that off.”
I reach behind me and draw Malos’ sword.
Flames erupt along the edge, casting flickering amethyst light across the room.
I clench my jaw, forcing Mythra’s words to the back of my mind.
No hesitation. No fear.
I won’t falter.
Not now.
Notes:
Wulfric has finally made his appearance!
Omega altered Wulfric a bit when he awakened him as the pseudo-Blade in theosoir. Aegises have the data of all blade's cores, so it stands to reason that they could alter the data within them as well.
He essentially changed him to a Dark-Element Blade, and gave him access to a weaker version of Malos' destruction. All brute force.
Let's just hope he'll take it easy on little-ol' Syph lmao.
I'm trying to set up a bit of self-doubt in Rex. I have some minor issues with how I've characterized him, I've gotta course correct a little bit.
Chapter 72: Altered
Summary:
The main group clashes against Torna, and something unexpected occurs.
Notes:
It's been a while! Hopefully you guys enjoy this.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[REX]
Mythra’s grin stretches wider, a flicker of excitement sparking in her eyes as her greatsword flares into existence once more, golden light dancing along its edge.
Jin, by contrast, hasn’t moved. His gaze remains fixed on the towering Blade at the center of the room.
Obsidian armor pulses with amethyst light, and even the Core Crystal embedded in the Blade’s chest, once a pure, shimmering blue, now glows with jagged violet veins that stretch outward like lightning through stone.
Jin’s icy blue eyes remain unreadable beneath his mask.
He says nothing at first, simply studies the creature before him.
Then, after a moment of stillness, he speaks.
“Blade. What is your name?”
The massive figure glares down at him, its monstrous face twisted into a permanent, snarling grimace.
“Wulfric,” the beast growls—its voice a brutal scrape, like stone grinding against steel.
Jin steps forward, unfazed. His gaze never wavers.
“Tell me, Wulfric,” he begins, voice smooth and cold as winter wind, “you’ve only just awakened. You know nothing of your Driver. Nothing of why his friends fight.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing.
“So why? Why raise your weapon against us? You have nothing to gain… and nothing to lose.”
Wulfric doesn’t answer at once.
He looms over Jin, unblinking. Silent.
Then, slowly, he lowers his massive frame, piercing Jin with a stare that radiates primal intent.
“Fear.”
The word rumbles from his chest, low and thunderous.
“You make my Driver…. Feel so much fear. The fear you spread through this entire group.”
His grip tightens around the megalace, the weapon humming with energy. Wulfric bares his jagged teeth in a snarl.
“Your intimidation is… incompatible with peace.”
Jin doesn’t flinch. His eyes lock with Wulfric’s, matching the beast’s ferocity with an icy calm.
“You speak of peace,” he says, voice level, cold. “But you know nothing. These men—your allies—fight to uphold the chains that bind us. They defend the tyranny humanity has imposed on Blades. The masters who call themselves saviors while treating us as tools.”
“That isn’t tru—” I start to shout, stepping forward instinctively.
But a hand grips my shoulder, firm and grounding.
I glance back—Nia.
Her eyes meet mine, steady and calm as she shakes her head.
Not now.
Wulfric snarls, the sound deep and guttural, his fang-like teeth flashing beneath the flickering amethyst glow. His presence is thunderous.
“You will not find freedom beneath the bones of the innocent,” he growls.
The light surging through his obsidian frame begins to intensify, twitches of energy sparking along his carapace as his massive body trembles with growing fury.
“A Blade who kills only to leave a message…”
His voice rises, the very air vibrating with its force.
“...is no Blade at all!”
Jin exhales, slow and deliberate, as he draws his blade from his back. The metallic whisper of it leaving the sheath seems deafening in the tense silence.
“So,” he says quietly, eyes closing. “That’s what you believe.”
He opens them again—sharp, focused, burning with resolve.
His grip tightens on the hilt.
“Then you’ll die alongside the cowards you’ve chosen to defend.”
[???]
Murder. Bloodshed.
In the end, humanity always returns to this cycle. Men killing men.
Humanity destroying itself, falling to the earth, only to rise again.
A cycle of death and rebirth.
Decay giving way to the prosperity of those who follow.
Yet even this fundamental law seems to have been forgotten in the ages since my birth.
Lost, fragmented, beneath the weight of time.
Alternate paths. Diverging realities.
Could it have been different? Was there another way?
Do I truly need to intervene?
We have lost our Origin, torn from the source,
And in its place, we’ve bound ourselves to humanity’s course, choosing to fight with them… or against them.
And now, it seems I must do the same.
Impartiality…A luxury reserved for the blind. For the hopeless.
Hold on, little one….
Until I can stand beside you once more.
[REX]
...x!
…ex!
“Rex!!”
Mórag’s voice cuts through the fog, sharp and commanding.
Her eyes blaze with fury, and the flames coiling around her twin blades crackle at her wrists as she glares at me.
“Unwrap yourself from your mind—and fight!”
I shake my head, trying to dispel the haze clouding my thoughts.
Why…? Why am I hesitating?
“Wake up, kid!”
A sharp blow to the back of my head jolts me back to reality.
I flinch, spinning toward the source.
Malos.
His voice is like a blade, cutting clean through my stupor.
“We don’t have time for this. Get a move on!”
I blink hard, the world snapping back into motion.
Ahead of me, Zeke and Syph stand united, twin pillars illuminated together by chains of pure energy, blazing from the resonance of Wulfric and Pandoria.
Syph, a new Driver, with a Blade barely awakened, moves with the confidence of someone born to stand on that battlefield.
The megalace in his hands glows brilliantly, swirling with amethyst and azure light as he charges alongside his brother.
Together, they rush Akhos with a force that borders on terrifying.
Akhos counters with a weapon that looks disturbingly familiar—
A massive scythe, eerily reminiscent of Phantylia’s, its curved blade shimmering with azure light.
Each time Syph swings his lance, crystal shards erupt from Akhos’s weapon, shattering against the ground.
The crystal shards vanish into glittering motes as weapons clash midair, Akhos holding his ground against the brothers’ relentless assault.
“A bit distracted, are we, dear?”
The voice coils behind me, far too close.
“Ah!” I yelp, stumbling backward as Mythra materializes at my side, her wide grin gleaming like a blade in the dark.
Suddenly,
A spike of pain drives into my skull, sharp and searing, piercing through the mental haze I hadn’t realized still lingered.
My grip tightens around Malos’ sword, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
Time seems to slow.
The pain branches outward as Forethought flares to life, blooming behind my eyes as Mythra’s killing intent pours into me, palpable, suffocating.
She raises her sword effortlessly, its golden edge blurring into motion as it comes down in a sweeping, crown-splitting arc.
“ MOVE. ”
Malos’ voice rips through my mind like a shockwave.
And my body moves—before I even think.
Sword meets sword in a flash of light and steel, instinct clashing with divine fury.
The dark flames of Malos’ sword crash against the radiant light bursting from Mythra’s blade, ether hissing and crackling as the opposing elements collide in midair.
I grit my teeth, channeling everything I have into the flame.
The fire surges, wrapping around Mythra’s blade like a living thing.
It devours her weapon inch by inch, the golden steel corroding under the onslaught until it crumbles away, nothing left but flickering dust.
I leap back, the moment buying me just enough space.
With a sharp motion, I toss the greatsword back toward Malos.
I can’t keep hesitating.
Not now.
“Pyra!”
She appears at my side in an instant, just as Malos catches his sword.
A pure white symbol ignites at the heart of the blade, glowing with renewed purpose.
Pyra’s eyes meet mine for only a moment…
But it’s enough.
A silent understanding passes between us, as if something ancient stirs beneath the surface.
A triangle of Affinity Links flares to life—connecting Pyra, Malos, and me in a web of blazing light.
Fire erupts at our feet, curling around us in a warm, orange glow—not burning, but empowering.
The three of us stand alone, shoulder to shoulder, facing Mythra—while behind us, our allies keep Akhos, Jin, and Phantylia at bay.
We have to buy them enough time.
Or…
Are they buying it for us?
Even now, I—
The thought trails.
The flames lick at my knees, barely a tickle against the plates of my greaves.
My hand hovers over the hilt of my steel sword.
I just have to draw it. Just one motion.
Then I can fight.
I can stand beside Malos and Pyra.
I can help them. Help my friends.
Is… Is that what I’m doing?
My thoughts feel sluggish, the fog seeping into my will as our enemy stands grinning before us.
The Core in my chest seems heavy. Unbearable even.
Even as Malos readies his sword, as Pyra’s face transitions from understanding to fear, staring at something behind me… I can’t move.
Even as the link connecting Pyra, Malos, and me flickers to nothing….
Even as Forethought drives a nail into my skull, the pain from its warning fills my arms. My legs. My everything….
My feet stand still.
[REGIS]
A storm of frost devours the battlefield, howling wind and biting ice obscuring everything in its path.
Through the haze, I see Jin begin to change.
His silver armor and mask dissolve into mist, vanishing as his form shifts and twists.
In their place stands something monstrous—black, sinewy flesh coursing with violent, pulsing veins of azure ether.
Wings burst from his lower back, vast and motionless, suspended in the frozen air as he hovers, deathly still.
One heartbeat—he’s there.
The next…
Gone.
There’s silence.
Then—
The air explodes with screams.
Jin reappears in a streak of motion—his blade flashing once, smooth and impossibly fast.
Agony flares through me as the edge cuts across my body, ether burning through flesh.
My weapon shatters in my hands.
My legs collapse beneath me.
Around me, our forces lie broken, scattered across the ground.
Blades lie in pieces—warped steel and shattered crystal.
And yet—
Only one of us remains standing.
Rex.
His armor is untouched.
Pristine.
Even Malos and Pyra bear wounds, the flames that used to support us sputter, barely clinging to life.
But Rex… he stands unscathed.
Malos grits his teeth, eyes locked on Jin.
“This is new,” he mutters through clenched teeth. “Unless you were holding out on us during the war.”
Jin offers no reply.
His gaze remains fixed—unwavering—on Rex.
Nia staggers to her knees beside me, reaching toward him.
“Rex! We’ve gotta—”
She’s cut off.
Jin’s gaze flicks toward her.
And in an instant, his sword is at her chest, hovering before her Core.
“Silence.”
Rex looks at her.
But there’s nothing in his eyes.
Gone is the warmth. Gone is the fire.
Their amber glow, once radiant, has dulled, regressed into something cold, something primal.
His Core Crystal flickers—no longer a steady, brilliant amethyst.
It pulses erratically between violet and… green.
A dull, haunting green.
“Rex…?” Nia’s voice trembles.
Akhos laughs. A slow, cutting sound.
“Mythra, you didn’t.”
His smile is sharp. Infuriating.
Mythra saunters over, smug and relaxed, draping an arm lazily around Rex’s shoulder like he’s some prized trophy.
Gramps punches Mythra in the face, tears falling on his furry cheeks.
“Leave the boy alone! Hasn’t he suffered enough!”
Nia kneels beside me, frozen—terror written across every inch of her face.
And in the back of my mind, his words echo.
Endbringer’s voice, cold and certain:
“A human with a Core Crystal… A truly novel concept. But be cautious… it may leave you vulnerable to… alteration.”
Rex reaches into his armor.
He draws out a glowing Azure Core Crystal.
Corvin’s.
Expression unreadable, face blank—
He lets it fall.
The Core slips through his fingers and hits the cold stone with a hollow clatter.
Mythra’s grin spreads wider, her golden hair fluttering as she tilts her head with a sickening, satisfied look.
“Aww… what’s the point of that?”
She releases Rex and kicks the Core across the floor—
It clatters violently, smashing into a nearby wall with a sickening crack.
“Corvin!”
Crossette’s voice breaks as she scrambles to the wall, body shaking as she goes for the Core.
Malos’ form shimmers—
And in his place, Typhos emerges.
He rises slowly, unsteadily, eyes locked on Rex in absolute horror.
“L-let him go, Mythra!”
His voice cracks, raw and shaking.
“I-I’ll go with you. Just… just let him go!”
A single tear slides down his cheek, catching the firelight before falling.
Mythra turns to him, lips parting,
“I’m afraid that’s not what we’re after anymore.”
[HERALD]
As I descend upon the castle, a thousand impressions strike me at once.
The shattered ceiling, broken by what looks like countless thunderstrikes—its fractures fresh, chaotic, as if something immense tore its way inside.
A massive, obsidian-clad beast still smolders at its center—likely the cause.
Weapons are drawn across the room, but the faces holding them…
They’re familiar.
Wounded.
Broken.
The Princes of Tantal lie battered, protected by the black colossus now standing sentinel in their defense.
At the center of it all—
An armored boy with lifeless eyes. A dull green flickers within the Core Crystal in his chest. Something is wrong.
To the side, a woman in uniform and an older man struggle to stand, but their injuries root them to the floor.
Nearby, the healer girl, who once restored me, and the boy’s father are frozen in horror.
Trapped beneath the blade of a monstrous figure, twisted flesh blackened by Ether.
And at the heart of it—
The Aegises.
Collapsed beneath the woman with golden hair.
Typhos is weeping.
Pyra’s face is as pale as death.
These people—
The ones who gave me trust. Who gave me a chance.
They don’t deserve to end like this.
It’s time.
Time to repay their kindness.
For the first time in what feels like countless years, the dragon at my back stirs at my will.
Multiple heads sprout from its neck, unfurling like wings of wrath.
Ether surges from my Core Crystal, burning bright with radiant red light, pulsing with divine judgment.
My voice echoes, layered over itself, filled with unwavering command:
“ Obey my will, as The Heavens Open !”
[NIA]
A surge of red ether slams into the castle floor.
The explosion rips through the air, shaking the very foundation.
I’m flung backward—
But something catches me before I hit the wall.
“Can you heal them?”
The voice is distorted, mechanical, and deep,
But familiar.
I turn and stare—
A massive serpent, forged of black metal, coils behind me.
Its eyes glow like furnace embers.
Herald’s?
The serpent’s mouth opens again.
“So? Can you?”
I nod, my voice stuck in my throat.
“Then do it.”
In the center of the room, Herald floats above a smoking crater—ether-scorched stone still glowing with molten heat beneath her.
A goddess of ruin made manifest.
Across the room, Rex helps Mythra to her feet—his expression still vacant.
His Core flickers erratically.
That blank stare hasn’t faded.
Jin stands at the crater’s edge, frozen, his wide eyes locked on the draconic woman before him.
“You… you’re—”
Herald tilts her head slightly, her Core Crystal pulsing in rhythm with the storm around her as she studies him.
I drop to my knees beside Regis, pouring healing light into his wounds.
As it flows from my hands, I can’t help but hear the exchange between Herald and Jin.
“So, you too bear the curse,” Herald says—her voice layered, hollow, and heavy with judgment.
Jin doesn’t flinch. His tone remains cold.
“Is that how you see it?”
Herald’s gaze narrows.
“He who is cursed to remember…
is cursed to suffer.”
“Then why do you intervene?”
Jin’s voice is calm—gentle, even—but there’s an edge beneath it, probing.
Herald’s gaze doesn’t waver.
“I owe these people a debt. They gave me relief from my suffering.”
Her Core pulses softly as she speaks.
“I will not watch them die.”
As I rush to Mórag and Vandham’s side, I catch the narrowing of Jin’s eyes.
“Then it seems we have no quarrel,” he says, voice cool again.
“Our goal is not their deaths. Not today.
We will take the boy… and leave.”
My head whips around to him.
“No, you can’t—!”
But a serpent coils around me in an instant—its scaled body tightening around my mouth.
The metal is cold against my skin.
“This is not a fight you can win, girl,” the creature hisses into my ear.
“Give them what they want…
and live to fight another day.”
Across the room, Mythra and Rex step to Jin’s side, the boy still wearing that empty stare.
Behind them, Akhos and Phantylia drag the unconscious forms of Patroka and Perdido, forming a grim procession.
Herald’s voice rings out again, distant yet thunderous.
“You may take the child…
But know this: this is not the end of our conflict.”
Her eyes flare.
“These people will hunt you to the ends of the earth. And I will stand with them.”
Jin slowly slides his blade back into its sheath.
The monstrous black flesh recedes, replaced once more by his cold silver armor.
“Then we will meet again, on another field of battle.”
He turns his back on Herald and begins to walk, beckoning his allies to follow.
“We have what we came for.
Let’s go.”
The group leaves the castle the way they came—
walking casually through the shattered entrance.
Only this time, they have someone new with them.
Rex.
I collapse to my knees, the cold stone biting through my clothes as the weight of it all crashes down.
“T-they just… took him?”
My voice cracks, barely a whisper between sobs.
Herald floats silently above me, her expression unreadable.
Then, with a hiss of metal and hydraulics, she dismounts the dragon curled at her back and lands lightly beside me.
She kneels, resting a hand gently on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she says, voice soft.
“We had no other choice.”
I look up at her, tears streaking down my face.
“We could have done something! We could’ve fought!”
Herald shakes her head slowly.
“That man… would have killed us all.”
“N-Nia…”
I turn, startled by the trembling voice.
Crossette stands nearby, barely upright.
Her arms are shaking.
Tears spill freely down her cheeks.
“I-I…”
Her voice falters as her hands clutch at her sides.
“I can’t find Corvin’s Core.”
[???]
Tantal is breathtaking this time of year.
Even with the Titan’s stagnant circulation, the people have found a remarkable way to redirect its ether, breathing life into what easily could have been, no, should have been an endless expanse of snow.
But what draws my attention…
Is the rising column of smoke, thick and black, climbing into the sky from the heart of the capital.
Even at this distance, I can feel the tremor.
An explosion.
The shockwave ripples outward, shaking the stone platform that cradles the city above the clouds.
“I’m too late…”
Then—
A flicker of light cuts through the smoke.
Brilliant.
Shimmering.
Soaring directly toward me.
My eyes track it instinctively as I raise a hand.
With a single thought, I pull the distance inward.
Reality folds.
And in the next moment…
A radiant Core Crystal settles into my palm, its surface pulsing with echoes of life.
Notes:
I'd be lying if I was certain about this. I've had the idea to have Rex be the one kidnapped for a WHILE, but I'd be lying if I said that half of the reason why this chapter took so long to come out wasn't because I felt like I didn't know how to do this justice.
I hope this was satisfying. I've spent HOURS dwelling on how to do this, and this is ultimately what I came up with.
If you have any questions or believe there's something I should develop more, let me know. I want this to be good, I'm just... uncertain how to do it sometimes.
I'm excited to develop the ??? person. Any guesses?
Chapter 73: Chapter Interlude - Core Crystal
Summary:
The past of humanity has long been forgotten, just as the past of every individual Blade has.
How long has it been?
Chapter Text
[???]
Core Crystals.
Ancient Conduits, scattered across Alrest, each containing the genetic and historical data of the planet’s bygone lifeforms. Planted in a broken world, they were designed to bring about its rebirth. In time, they fused with the nuclei of emerging life, giving rise to the Titans, and from them, all other forms of life followed.
Over countless millennia, these Core Crystals were refined, repurposed, and culled to produce ever-stronger, ever-more-efficient Blades.
At first, a Blade’s awakening might yield nothing more than the trivial: a comb, a toothpick, a gleaming, beautifully cut gemstone brick.
Stunning… but ultimately useless.
Yet they evolved.
From those humble beginnings emerged elemental warriors—wielders of fire and lightning, masters of blade and bow.
But this one…
This one is different.
Even now, within the lattice of its crystallized shell, lies a Blade unlike any before.
He is no Aegis. No peerless warrior of legend.
But he remembers.
Not all, only fragments.
Shattered echoes of past lives.
And as the crystal pulses—data taking form, shaping flesh and bone, only one question lingers in my mind:
Just how is he connected to them ?
Notes:
I'm back on my bullshit boys
Chapter 74: No, I'm Not.
Summary:
Nia and Co. deal with their loss, and Corvin reflects on his experience with his new Driver.
Notes:
Sorry, life has been hectic lately. I'm still thinking on how I want this to go, but I'm happy with how this turned out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[NIA]
Even now, every step I’ve taken feels carved in ruin.
No matter how strong I become… how much I heal…
In the end, I lose everything that matters.
Even within the castle walls—sheltered beneath the still-mending stone and cold, mechanical plating—the wind finds us.
It seeps through cracks and vents, whistling a mournful tune.
The shifting stone groans in rhythm, and distant thunder echoes through the vastness of the throne room, composing a song both haunting and hollow.
“Let me go!!”
A voice, raw with fury, tears through the wind like a blade.
“It’s a suicide mission, you dolt!”
Zeke has both arms wrapped tightly around Regis, anchored to Pandoria with a glowing stream of Ether.
Regis thrashes like a wild beast, his limbs convulsing with rage, but Zeke holds fast, trembling from the strain.
Vandham storms toward them, raising a heavy arm.
With one swift motion, he grips the back of Regis’ chestplate and hauls him upward like an unruly kitten, separating him from Zeke’s grasp.
Wind Ether spirals around Regis, his form flickering as if phasing between moments, struggling to vanish entirely—but he can’t.
“You’re spent, kid,” Vandham mutters, voice low but firm, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Ol’ Herald bought us time—time to breathe, to regroup. We can’t waste that now.”
“They caught us off guard! If we’d fought them on our terms—”
“We’re not going to get them on our terms!”
Vandham’s voice cracks—raw, strained with emotion.
“We don’t stand a chance. If we run into them again, we die. What part of that don’t you understand!?”
Regis slips from Vandham’s grasp, crumpling to the floor in a heap of armor and anguish.
Regis just lies there for a moment, wallowing in his own emotions.
“I’ve failed him… again. I—”
Regis weeps quietly.
“We don’t have time for self-doubt.”
The words ring out, calm but firm, echoing through the vast chamber like a bell tolling through fog.
From a shadowed doorway at the side of the throne room, a figure emerges. Violet hair drapes past his shoulders. His footsteps are slow, deliberate.
Omega.
I surge to my feet, fury igniting my limbs with more strength than I thought I had left.
I storm toward him, grabbing fistfuls of his loose robes and yanking him close.
“Where were you!?” I shout, voice cracking. “Rex might still be here if you had done something—anything!”
Omega doesn’t meet my eyes. His gaze drops, heavy with something like guilt—or maybe regret.
“…That may be true,” he murmurs.
He sighs, then slowly lifts his head to face me. His eyes are dull, but steady.
“I couldn’t do anything before. But now… I think I know where we need to go.”
[CORVIN]
My head aches.
Everything’s a haze—blurry, distant, like waking from a dream I don’t remember falling into.
I know a Blade isn’t supposed to retain memories when they awaken. A clean slate. A new bond.
But is it normal… to not even see your Driver’s face?
My new Driver stands at an average height, cloaked in a silver hood, their words distant and shrouded. I’ve spent the better part of two days trying to glimpse what lies beneath that hood.
But every time I get close,
Every time the wind should part the fabric,
Every time I should finally see their face,
Something stops it.
The wind shifts the wrong way.
The light hits just enough to blind.
Or the cloak, somehow, simply refuses to move.
It’s like the world itself is conspiring to keep them hidden.
And I don’t know why.
When I awakened, fragments clicked into place.
My name.
The familiar weight of the twin swords on my back.
But along with the expected memories came others that shouldn’t be there.
Voices I don’t recognize echo through my mind—disjointed, out of time.
And something deeper, an instinct that pushes me forward without explanation.
For now, though, we sit side by side on a crowded passenger ship.
After taking a few odd jobs to scrape together some G, we’re finally en route to our destination.
“So… what is this ‘Fonsett Village’?”
My Driver’s voice is soft, neutral, almost androgynous. Not cold, exactly… just distant. Like someone who hasn’t spoken to another person in a long, long time.
I chuckle nervously, scratching the back of my head.
“A-ah, I’m not entirely sure. It’s just… everything I do remember is pointing me there.”
They pause, silent for a beat too long.
Then they sigh, tilting their hooded head slightly to the side.
“The Leftherian Archipelago… It’s not quite what I expected,” they say quietly.
“From what I’ve heard, it’s become a rather bustling country in its own right.”
I blink. “And… that’s surprising because…?”
“Had fate been left to it’s course….” they reply, voice still flat, “it would’ve remained small. Quiet. Not unsuccessful… but solitary.”
Their tone never shifts. Not once. Even now, after days together, I still haven’t gotten used to it.
Something about it makes every word feel like a riddle. Like they know more than they’re saying.
And maybe… they do.
“Have you heard what happened in Tantal recently?”
A man across from us leans forward with a grin, eyes locked onto me like he’s been waiting for an excuse to talk.
I blink, caught off guard. “No, I haven’t. Did something happen?”
The man tilts his head, grin widening.
“Apparently a massive beast attacked the capital. Nearly brought the whole city to ruin. It was only stopped by the Second Arm of the Architect himself—along with the Second Sword and the Font of Elysia!”
Beside me, my Driver stiffens.
Their gaze—usually unreadable—is now fixed squarely on the stranger.
“Just… who are these people you speak of?”
Their tone is still flat, still neutral—but something about it has changed.
A subtle gravity, like they’re measuring each word for weight.
More than I’ve gotten out of them in days.
The man looks surprised, even offended.
“You mean you haven’t heard?”
He leans in further, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hush.
“Well then, brace yourself—I’m about to rock your world. The Aegises from the old legends? They’ve returned.”
He glances around, then continues.
“They say the Endbringer has bonded with a young man named Rex. The Praetor himself recognized him, called him the ‘Second Arm of the Architect.’ Together, with the Endbringer as the ‘Second Sword,’ they stopped the beast cold.” The man shrugs, “Along with a supposed Legendary Healing Blade.”
My Driver leans back slowly, head lowered, processing the information.
“…Interesting terminology.”
The man chuckles, leaning into the cushions with an air of self-satisfaction.
“Let me guess—you’re not a believer? In Aegism, I mean?”
My Driver lifts their head.
For the first time, I catch a glimpse beneath the hood: a glint of amber in their eyes… a stray lock of silver hair.
“No,” they say.
A pause.
“No, I’m not.”
Notes:
I'm so excited to develop this character.
No, they're not an OC. Not completely, anyway.
Chapter 75: Title of 'Aegis'
Summary:
The Mysterious Figure introduces themselves to Corvin, and Torna contemplates their next steps.
Notes:
Finally something new. I know this isn't much... but I hope it is interesting.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[???]
The closer we draw to Leftheria, the more vibrant Corvin becomes.
His cheeks regain color, his posture lightens, and his hair seems to glow faintly in the dim light around us—like the place itself is healing him.
I know I’m supposed to be his Driver.
But understanding him? That’s another matter entirely.
He feels familiar in a way I can’t explain. Not through memory—those are hazy, fractured things—but through something deeper.
Something instinctual.
Fluffy blond hair… worn leather…
A massive red sword.
No. No.
Those are his memories. Not mine.
I can’t afford to get lost in them.
I have my own task, my own path, separate from his.
“Uh, excuse me?”
Corvin’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I glance up.
His blue eyes are gentle but searching, brows knit with uncertainty.
“So… what am I supposed to call you?” he asks, softly. “You’ve never told me your name.”
His words hang in the air, quiet but weighty.
My gaze drops to the floor, a strange stillness overtaking me.
Right.
My name.
“A-”
The words catch in my throat, hesitation overtaking my mind as the unfamiliar word seems to tighten around my tongue.
Corvin’s head tilts to the side, my hesitation confusing him.
I clear my throat, shaking off the hesitation.
Linked as we may be… I am not him.
“Just call me Altea.”
[JIN]
“Just what is your intention with him, Mythra?”
The boy—no, Mythra’s puppet—sits motionless at the far end of the table.
His once-brilliant amber eyes are dulled now, muted like glass left in shadow.
Across from him, Mythra lounges carelessly, a cocky smile tugging at her lips. She gazes down at her prize as though he were little more than a curiosity.
“Simple,” she says, flippantly inspecting her nails. “I’ll use the data in his Core to repair my own.”
Her tone is proud, almost playful. “An Aegis Core contains the data of every Blade Core—even the other Aegises. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of that?”
Akhos leans closer, flicking a finger against the puppet’s chestplate. The amethyst Core Crystal shimmers faintly at his touch.
“With the Core in this state… do you really think you can extract enough data to restore all of yours?”
Patroka narrows her eyes, stepping in beside him to examine it more closely.
“And even if you can… wouldn’t that help her too?” she asks, voice dripping with disdain. “What’s her name again? Pyra?”
Mythra shakes her head, her golden hair swaying with the motion.
“The only reason her Core mimicked mine in the first place was because she was born from it, damaged as it was. After that, our conditions became separate. Repairing mine won’t repair hers.”
She trails off. The words halt in her throat.
For the first time, her smug grin falters.
I tilt my head. “What is it now?”
Mythra’s gaze drops to the floor, a flicker of unease breaking through her mask.
“…A fully realized Aegis contains the data of every Blade Core in existence.”
Her eyes lift, locking with mine.
“And if that little brother of mine ever learns how to wield his virtue properly… nothing will stop him from repairing Pyra’s Core himself.”
Notes:
I'm sorry that updates have grown so few and far between nowadays. Life got a bit crazy. Hopefully, I'll be able to update again soon. I am excited about this next arc.