Author's Note: This chapter, again, is told from Rayen's POV.
Chapter 80
The attack, if one could even call it that, went off without a hitch. In reality, it was more of a rout, with our weapons practically already impaling them before they were even aware of our presence. Despite myself, I felt elated in that easy victory, the adrenaline dancing through my veins. Everything was going according to my plan; even the snakes were only a minor hitch, and one that I had foreseen in any case. But what worried me most was the invisible clock silently ticking away as our Spirit energy slowly drained. If we ended up not having enough time left to get through the final confrontation, then we would have to spend the night both resting and sparring to regain enough power to fuel the gemstones for the terminal battle we all knew was imminent. During that period we would be woefully vulnerable, and I believed that as soon as the armor faded, we might as well be wearing giant bull's-eyes on our backs.
But we were nearly finished. From what the Dragons had told me, when they had gone to get a bird's eye view on the area, hiding in cloud banks for cover, there was only one group left, off to the east. All others had retreated back to their headquarters by this time. But the remaining faction was the largest of any that we had faced since switching to the portal-hopping strategy. They weren't far, maybe a day's flight, but we would almost positively run out of Spirit by then. So we had to stick to jumping through the gates and hope for the best.
I saw Phil fly up alongside me again, as he had several times before. "She's staring at you again," he said, in a low tone. I let out a barely contained sigh of agitation. I didn't bother to ask whom he was talking about. "You sound like a broken record. If your accounts are correct, she's been staring at me for the past four days. If that's the case, then the wind damage has probably blinded her by now anyway."
Phil breathed his own exasperated exhalation, coupled with a slow shaking of his head. "You are so out of touch. Besides, who uses records anymore?"
I snorted, my voice laced with irritation. "ME out of touch? Kyra has to look in one direction, doesn't she? Has the idea that we're in a different dimension, slipping through holes in the fabric between worlds in order to defeat a demonic army bent on the destruction of all life, inexorably heading towards the climactic conflict that will decide the fate of all of creation even remotely crossed your mind?"
"Yeah... so?"
My eyes rolled skyward, which was invisible through the ever-present blanket of clouds. The enormous violet 'harvesters', as Abrian and Selari had called them, were more active than ever, and that fact alone was enough to quench the previous giddiness battle had bestowed upon me. The Creator had called them the source of all of our troubles during our brief conversation. But what was so ominous about a flock of lightning beacons, despite who had set them up. The deity had seen no purpose in explaining to me why these things were so dangerous, or what they did, or how they did it. Gods, I mused testily. They're like candles. Sometimes they can cast a light that saves your life, but as often as not it seems that the glow leaves more shadows than it dispelled.
"You know, Phil, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have a one-track mind."
"Why, thank you."
I twisted my head towards him, a grin creeping across my face. "You didn't let me finish. But now I know for sure that you have a NO-track mind."
With that verbal barb delivered, I turned my sight back to our course. I didn't need to see Phil to know the expression on his face as he muttered sulkily. I had seen it so many times before that I could picture it in my mind instantly. I cupped my hand to one ear in a slightly smug manner, feigning deafness. "What was that?"
Phil lapsed into moody silence. Obviously, none of the retorts he thought up were good enough. With the Jade Dragoon's ego cut down to size, I returned to my own private thoughts.
Of course, I could just be nuts, and the voices I heard from the crystal currently residing in the centerpiece of the multicolored shell of the Guardian Dragoon were merely a product of my mind cracking under the stress of saving this planet, my own, and maybe countless others. If only it were that easy, but I would have to sink into some serious denial before I could convince myself to believe something like that. Of course, do crazy people really believe that they are insane? Or am I just making excuses, trying to escape all of this confusion and doubt before...
...Before what?
That sinister question trailed off in my mind as we passed through the first portal. I scarcely had time to study the world we were in before we entered another. First we saw a barren desert, with anthropoid creatures riding on giant six-legged beasts with shaggy green manes that nearly brushed the sand. Next, a massive ocean that stretched far past what any eyes could see, be they human or Wingly or Dragon, with tiny lights that winked up from the depths, of what we could only guess were huge underwater metropolises. Then we were among mountains so tall that the air was almost too thin to breathe, each breath becoming a personal battle against Death itself. They gazed upon a chocolate-brown planet riddled with craters, as miniscule soot-black dwarf-like creatures sat astride enormous crimson ants who tore tunnels through the earth with their gigantic mandibles as if the sun-baked crust of rock were no more than a thin sheet of paper. Finally, an almost human-like city where hulking, blue, one-eyed creatures at least eight feet tall jabbed in their direction with pudgy, three-fingered hands, jabbering in an unknown tongue from which only one thing was discernable: fear. Apparently that idea was universal, I surmised grimly.
Finally, we were back in the world we had come to know as one much like our own, the planet Selari and Abrian called Kidur. Yet again, the unit we were pursuing lie within our range of vision. Either each world had a corresponding point on another, or there were much fewer portals than the Creator's speech had led me to believe.
Words echoed in my head, neither male nor female, human nor Wingly, quiet as a whisper and yet infinitely loud. I was still pondering how that was possible when then the Creator had finished speaking. "The latter is correct. But the disturbances will only grow greater. The Murderer's last great plan is showing total disregard for the order of the universe. Therefore, it must be stopped before all will cease to exist."
I thought, hoping the Creator could hear. "But will Endiness be reborn again, as the old legends believed?"
"No. There are many, many others almost identical to Endiness, so many that it will take the Murderer a long, long time to destroy them all, even if this plot succeeds. But Endiness as you know it will be gone forever."
Countless thousands of years, wiped from life, with no one to remember that they existed at all. I'd be damned before I let that happen without one hell of a fight. "But, couldn't you recreate it?"
"Of course I could. I could make another Endiness, another Serdio, and another Rayen O'Connor if I wished. I could recreate every world the Murderer destroyed exactly as it was. But I won't. Think of me as a scientist, with life as my grand experiment. I am impartial to the outcome, merely from what I can learn in the process. What would be the purpose of trying an experiment again, with no variables different from the last? It would always end with the same result."
I was getting angry now. We were talking about people, histories, and cultures being annihilated, not some cricket in a bottle with a few scraps of grass. "Then why should you bother helping us? Why fight for what you do not care about?"
That had been a serious mistake. The Creator's rage boomed around me like the simultaneous death of a million suns. I felt no pain, but the sheer volume shook me, and I would not care to consider attempting getting the god angry again. "I do not care? Do not attempt to accuse me of neglect! I created this world, and yours, and others in quantities beyond your comprehension! But they all sprang from me, and therefore are a piece of me. I am in every blade of grass, every child who dreams of something more, and in all the planets themselves! Countless young are taken from life far too early, and I mourn every one. Innumerable wars are fought, and I stand among the remains and I grieve. You, who have more powers than any mortal has ever achieved, cannot begin to understand more than a tiny, insignificant fraction of what creation is. But as I create, my creations must eventually be destroyed. You of all people, who has experienced death and returned to the living nearly unscathed, should understand more than any that nothing lasts forever. Your world is just one among the many that is approaching its twilight. I cannot save them all, as much as watching a part of myself dwindle away tears at my soul."
"You never answered my question," I thought somewhat tentatively, as I was still reeling from the intense fury that still reverberated in my skull.
"As I mentioned, the Murderer has broken the rules that even we followed, until now. I must intervene before..."
My pulse rattled as I remembered a faint echo of myself asking the same question, with the same doubt. "Before what, and who created rules that gods must follow?"
"We know not. They have been in place since we first became aware, eons past measuring ago. Although we have far more understanding than you or any of my creations will ever obtain, both my twin and I have limits, both in our power and our knowledge, although to you both are so vast they might as well be infinite. Who can create a god when nothing else exists, and who can limit them? I cannot say."
"But then how can the Murderer break these laws, and why can that happen and go unpunished?"
"It is our fundamental instinct to attempt to surpass each other, and it was only a matter of time before one of us tested these edicts. But I do not doubt that his acts will result in retribution. What consequences might come, I do not dare to guess. But in the end this is merely what we have been doing for inestimable epochs, one counteracting the other's actions. But now we have escalated it to a scale that may be far too dangerous. But if I do nothing but repair the damage, then it will spur the Murderer on to larger schemes. No, there must be a way to keep us from pushing too far. But it is up to you to discover it."
"Me? You want an insignificant little mortal like me?"
"Perhaps I will recreate this world after its destruction, and pick a less sarcastic youth as the Guardian next time."
"We're not quite dead yet. Besides, somebody's got to give you grief."
"I suppose anything's better than hearing my sibling's jests for an eternity."
"Yeah, I've noticed that he's got quite a perverse sense of humor."
The Creator did not respond, nor did the divinity say anything further, even after I had reached out. I figured that I had been told all that was necessary. Fine, then. We were approaching the final horde, and I had to be focused solely on battle. If past experiences would hold true, it should be a breeze.
The swarm halted suddenly, and did not still as the Dragoons neared. I guessed that they were setting up camp. I wondered why, for the sun was just beginning to slink beneath the mountains on one side of the cluster of goons, and from what I knew about our enemies, they required less rest than we did. No tents or other shelters were set up, so I assumed the Murderer had made them resistant to Kidur's winter. But if they were sleeping, it would make this massacre even easier. They would be dead before they woke up. Not as if they were truly alive, but that was another matter entirely, and I didn't want to bother debating philosophy again after I had been sufficiently mystified by the Creator's words.
Silent as owls, the Dragoons dove to earth, weapons drawn in the single noise of their descent, a steely rustle, not loud enough to wake our enemies, but even if it had, it could easily have been mistaken for a stray gust of wind. In any case, the fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. They were woken by Victor's first shot, but already nearly decimated by that point, and too disorganized to put up any sort of resistance. Within moments we stood, our work finished, out in the snowfield as the sun's last light turned the powder red beneath our feet like the blood of our vanquished enemies, alone.
Or so we thought.
Too late, I saw the dark shape loom from between two peaks. Seven cat-eye pupils gleamed from the growing twilight. It was all a trap, like a gambit in some massive chess game, and I had been the amateur player who had foolishly seized the bait, thinking myself invincible once being given a few gratuitous pawns to feed my ego. I should have known better, after all we had been through, but the enemy had anticipated my weaknesses yet again, and prepared accordingly, walking right into their grasp. I shouted, hoping the noise would alert the others and give them time to scatter before...
This time, unfortunately, I knew what came next. The brilliant cerulean beam cut through the dusk, taking several warriors with it. I pulled the argent hilt of the Dragon Buster from my belt; the flaming blade flickered into golden life before the magic of the Guardian Dragoon shifted the fires to a bright azure hue. Not that it mattered much. The Divine Dragon itself was a forfeit, not expecting to cause any more damage beyond the initial cannon while he still possessed the lethal relic. Its entire purpose was to take out as many Dragoons as it could, whittling down their numbers to the point where they would lack the magical power to sufficiently destroy the rest of the foe that lay in wait for them.
But I could hardly just let it sit there. It didn't exactly do much for the landscape. Several of the soldiers who had recovered from the blast quickest soared towards the devilish likeness of the King of Dragons. I hissed outwardly, spitting a long stream of curses as I increased my pace, using all of the oaths I knew and some I weren't even aware resided in my vocabulary. I found a few that I really liked, and made a mental note to store those away and add on to them later. In any case, this was hardly the time to broaden my already expansive knowledge in the realm of obscenities. Why were they wasting their time, and possibly their lives, when I had the Dragon Buster? Nothing good would come of it, and they were practically walking into the dragon's open jaws.
Or hooks, as the case may be, and one swipe of said claw sent half a dozen Dragoons tumbling from the air. I doubted they were dead, but repairing the damage would be another costly strain on their magic reserves. I heard a male voice call my name, and I turned my head and spotted Shade close behind me, the turquoise orb of the Dragon Block Staff clamped firmly in his grasp. He had somehow managed to channel his mind through the sphere, and despite the power of the Dragon Buster, the King of Dragons was simply too titanic to fell with one blow. I was welcome for the help as I soared up to the Dragon's eye level, hoping to draw attention to the blazing artifact clutched in my hand. The Dragon's claw swatted at me as if I was an insect, but I knew I was a very dangerous pest. I ducked beneath the paw as it whistled past my head, with claws as large as elephant tusks, barely having time to do a barrel roll to the left as the Dragon's huge tail lashed at me like a whip.
Staying out of reach from the Dragon's claws and teeth, I swerved around several tail swipes, landing near the ridge of spines running down its backbone, each scaly ridge as tall as a man is. I shot up his neck like a bullet, coming to rest at the base of the enormous head. Dodging one last swat from the tail, I plunged the Dragon Buster into the back of the skull. The scorching tip of the archaic saber pierced the beast's nearly impenetrable hide with unmatched ease. I quickly learned that the brain structures of Dragons were different then ours is, and my hope of slicing through the brain stem for an instant death was dashed. But Shade still had the orb, it just meant a great deal more personal discomfort as I kept my death hold tight.
The Divine Dragon's eternal rage was reflected quite clearly in the tormented roar of its fiendish counterpart. My anticipation of unpleasant resistance proved prophetic, as the head twisted, heaved, and bucked, and the tail rained punishing blows on my own skull and neck. The heavy armored plates that protected my shoulders groaned in protest, and my head swam with the force of the blows, but I gripped the runic crosspieces of the sword like a shark to a particularly resolute victim, looking hopefully at Shade. His hands were positioned a good three inches away from the now- levitating crystal, his umber gaze fixed solely upon it, as though something resided in its depths that only he could see. A tremendous shiver ran through the savage, and the globe began to emit shimmering waves of verdant radiance. When the light struck me, I felt the pain wash away, my brain coming into sharper focus. Even the fatigue of the day's flight was gone, and judging by the magic that sang in my blood, he was not only siphoning the Dragon's life force but its arcane powers as well. Despite the fact that I felt like a nail that a giant was attempting to pound into a steel plate with a sledgehammer (for the stolen vitality could only heal the damage that was already inflicted, and although the sensation disappeared immediately, it was hardly an euphoric experience), I smiled. Leave it to Shade to think of something practical.
The two most powerful creations of the golden age of the Winglies took their toll, as they had twice before. The convulsions became more sluggish, the repeated buffets on his shoulder blades almost frail. The glow from the jewel intensified, and Rayen soon got the impression that the behemoth was doing its best just to stay alive. As the majestic yet fearsome seven-eyed face shouted the last of its woe, in more of a fragile shriek than its once- awesome snarl, the sphere cracked, and finally shattered, the strain too powerful to contain inside the fist-sized emerald. Minute shards cascaded down like a glittering green rain, the body beneath me dissipated into wisps of shadowy smoke, and I fell somewhat gracelessly into a snowdrift.
After pushing myself out of the slush, brushing ice off my armor in a halfhearted attempt to salvage my dignity, my armor dwindled into nothingness, my Spirit falling gently into my palm. Although magic was no longer an issue, Shade's ploy had not managed to extend our transformations' spans. I seized the opportunity to pull out both my sword and my previously devised profanities, thrashing the former to release my bitterness and elaborating on the latter in ways best not mentioned in print. After sufficiently expending a good week's worth of damnation, I strode over to Abrian, who had reconstructed some semblance of order while Shade and I fought. "How many did we lose?"
The native shook his ash-blonde mane, leaning on his broadsword with a troubled expression. "Nineteen. A few more caught a partial blow, but they recovered along with the six that were clawed when Shade drained the Dragon."
Nineteen dead. A tenth of our entire force decimated in mere seconds because of my mistake. I heard a deep bass boom from behind me, filled with disappointment and scorn. "You really blew it this time."
I whipped around, expecting to see Victor's stern, unforgiving gaze looking down on me, and instead found myself staring at Oraeus, with a condemning aspect that I had never seen on his usually sympathetic countenance before. He continued, with his words filled with icy disdain. "We're finished now. You know that, don't you?"
I floundered for words. What did he want, an apology? I suddenly tensed out of ire. Who did he think he was, anyway? He, who left his son behind for dead in a burning village, was talking to me like this?
But Oraeus did not relent. "You've driven us into the ground. All they have to do now is bury us."
My brows contracted in anger. The hilt of my sword suddenly felt warm in my palm, and my ears rang with a sudden intense headache. I could scarcely hear his voice, but I knew well enough what was being said, as he verbally picked apart my every flaw. Did he think that I didn't understand?
The next moment was a blur in my eyes, so I can only relate what I heard. Several people screamed, followed by something let out an earthshaking bellow, and there was a deafening crash of metal. When I regained my sight, I found myself staring up from the damp ground into the face of Jineraq, his lips curled back in a scowl that showed his rows of gleaming white fangs, hatred blazing in his amber eyes. Around the Golden Dragon's massive bulk, I saw a crowd of my warriors assembled around us, all staring at me or whatever lay behind Jineraq, obscured from my vision. I craned my neck to see around the drake's flank, and then my whole body went numb.
Artaeris was kneeling in the snow; his face so twisted that the expression was completely unreadable. In his hand was a spherical topaz, shining with a fierce aura of gold. Beside him lay his father, a neat hole through his chest. Almost hypnotically, my eyes traced back to my side. Azmerak, the Destroyer, lay beside me, its silver runes glistening with the half- Giganto's blood.
I had killed Oraeus.
The realization splashed over me like a tidal wave, restoring feeling to me in a rush of freezing pain. The winged shell of darkness that encased me died in a triumphant gleam of shadow. My stone had deceived me into believing it was spent, like a serpent with a single lethal dose left in its venom sacs. With the last spurt of the unnatural dragon-like strength I had, I shoved Jineraq away, where he bunched up and prepared to pounce again, but half a dozen humans scurried up and caught hold of him. Glancing around in a final horrified, desperate endeavor to find something other than a gaunt, bleak, and hopeless face in the crowd, I seized my now- disenchanted sword and ran. I sped off without direction, with no course but escape. My boots sunk into the snow as I fled, leaving my footprints behind in the crumpled flakes.
At the time, I refused to look back, not wanting to see them watching me as I bolted like a coward. But my trail betrayed the truth. The faster I ran, the further my feet sank. The deeper my footprints, the more snow it would require to fill those holes. The harder I fled, the longer it would be before I ever could turn around and understand what lay behind me.
Author's Note: That chapter was nearly three times as long as my average Rebirth chapter. 4,100 words... no wonder my brain is fried. In any case, this story will be 84 chapters long upon its completion. After this, we have one more chapter, then Last Battle Parts Uno y Dos, and then the Epilogue! Yay, I'm ALMOST DONE.
Chapter 80
The attack, if one could even call it that, went off without a hitch. In reality, it was more of a rout, with our weapons practically already impaling them before they were even aware of our presence. Despite myself, I felt elated in that easy victory, the adrenaline dancing through my veins. Everything was going according to my plan; even the snakes were only a minor hitch, and one that I had foreseen in any case. But what worried me most was the invisible clock silently ticking away as our Spirit energy slowly drained. If we ended up not having enough time left to get through the final confrontation, then we would have to spend the night both resting and sparring to regain enough power to fuel the gemstones for the terminal battle we all knew was imminent. During that period we would be woefully vulnerable, and I believed that as soon as the armor faded, we might as well be wearing giant bull's-eyes on our backs.
But we were nearly finished. From what the Dragons had told me, when they had gone to get a bird's eye view on the area, hiding in cloud banks for cover, there was only one group left, off to the east. All others had retreated back to their headquarters by this time. But the remaining faction was the largest of any that we had faced since switching to the portal-hopping strategy. They weren't far, maybe a day's flight, but we would almost positively run out of Spirit by then. So we had to stick to jumping through the gates and hope for the best.
I saw Phil fly up alongside me again, as he had several times before. "She's staring at you again," he said, in a low tone. I let out a barely contained sigh of agitation. I didn't bother to ask whom he was talking about. "You sound like a broken record. If your accounts are correct, she's been staring at me for the past four days. If that's the case, then the wind damage has probably blinded her by now anyway."
Phil breathed his own exasperated exhalation, coupled with a slow shaking of his head. "You are so out of touch. Besides, who uses records anymore?"
I snorted, my voice laced with irritation. "ME out of touch? Kyra has to look in one direction, doesn't she? Has the idea that we're in a different dimension, slipping through holes in the fabric between worlds in order to defeat a demonic army bent on the destruction of all life, inexorably heading towards the climactic conflict that will decide the fate of all of creation even remotely crossed your mind?"
"Yeah... so?"
My eyes rolled skyward, which was invisible through the ever-present blanket of clouds. The enormous violet 'harvesters', as Abrian and Selari had called them, were more active than ever, and that fact alone was enough to quench the previous giddiness battle had bestowed upon me. The Creator had called them the source of all of our troubles during our brief conversation. But what was so ominous about a flock of lightning beacons, despite who had set them up. The deity had seen no purpose in explaining to me why these things were so dangerous, or what they did, or how they did it. Gods, I mused testily. They're like candles. Sometimes they can cast a light that saves your life, but as often as not it seems that the glow leaves more shadows than it dispelled.
"You know, Phil, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have a one-track mind."
"Why, thank you."
I twisted my head towards him, a grin creeping across my face. "You didn't let me finish. But now I know for sure that you have a NO-track mind."
With that verbal barb delivered, I turned my sight back to our course. I didn't need to see Phil to know the expression on his face as he muttered sulkily. I had seen it so many times before that I could picture it in my mind instantly. I cupped my hand to one ear in a slightly smug manner, feigning deafness. "What was that?"
Phil lapsed into moody silence. Obviously, none of the retorts he thought up were good enough. With the Jade Dragoon's ego cut down to size, I returned to my own private thoughts.
Of course, I could just be nuts, and the voices I heard from the crystal currently residing in the centerpiece of the multicolored shell of the Guardian Dragoon were merely a product of my mind cracking under the stress of saving this planet, my own, and maybe countless others. If only it were that easy, but I would have to sink into some serious denial before I could convince myself to believe something like that. Of course, do crazy people really believe that they are insane? Or am I just making excuses, trying to escape all of this confusion and doubt before...
...Before what?
That sinister question trailed off in my mind as we passed through the first portal. I scarcely had time to study the world we were in before we entered another. First we saw a barren desert, with anthropoid creatures riding on giant six-legged beasts with shaggy green manes that nearly brushed the sand. Next, a massive ocean that stretched far past what any eyes could see, be they human or Wingly or Dragon, with tiny lights that winked up from the depths, of what we could only guess were huge underwater metropolises. Then we were among mountains so tall that the air was almost too thin to breathe, each breath becoming a personal battle against Death itself. They gazed upon a chocolate-brown planet riddled with craters, as miniscule soot-black dwarf-like creatures sat astride enormous crimson ants who tore tunnels through the earth with their gigantic mandibles as if the sun-baked crust of rock were no more than a thin sheet of paper. Finally, an almost human-like city where hulking, blue, one-eyed creatures at least eight feet tall jabbed in their direction with pudgy, three-fingered hands, jabbering in an unknown tongue from which only one thing was discernable: fear. Apparently that idea was universal, I surmised grimly.
Finally, we were back in the world we had come to know as one much like our own, the planet Selari and Abrian called Kidur. Yet again, the unit we were pursuing lie within our range of vision. Either each world had a corresponding point on another, or there were much fewer portals than the Creator's speech had led me to believe.
Words echoed in my head, neither male nor female, human nor Wingly, quiet as a whisper and yet infinitely loud. I was still pondering how that was possible when then the Creator had finished speaking. "The latter is correct. But the disturbances will only grow greater. The Murderer's last great plan is showing total disregard for the order of the universe. Therefore, it must be stopped before all will cease to exist."
I thought, hoping the Creator could hear. "But will Endiness be reborn again, as the old legends believed?"
"No. There are many, many others almost identical to Endiness, so many that it will take the Murderer a long, long time to destroy them all, even if this plot succeeds. But Endiness as you know it will be gone forever."
Countless thousands of years, wiped from life, with no one to remember that they existed at all. I'd be damned before I let that happen without one hell of a fight. "But, couldn't you recreate it?"
"Of course I could. I could make another Endiness, another Serdio, and another Rayen O'Connor if I wished. I could recreate every world the Murderer destroyed exactly as it was. But I won't. Think of me as a scientist, with life as my grand experiment. I am impartial to the outcome, merely from what I can learn in the process. What would be the purpose of trying an experiment again, with no variables different from the last? It would always end with the same result."
I was getting angry now. We were talking about people, histories, and cultures being annihilated, not some cricket in a bottle with a few scraps of grass. "Then why should you bother helping us? Why fight for what you do not care about?"
That had been a serious mistake. The Creator's rage boomed around me like the simultaneous death of a million suns. I felt no pain, but the sheer volume shook me, and I would not care to consider attempting getting the god angry again. "I do not care? Do not attempt to accuse me of neglect! I created this world, and yours, and others in quantities beyond your comprehension! But they all sprang from me, and therefore are a piece of me. I am in every blade of grass, every child who dreams of something more, and in all the planets themselves! Countless young are taken from life far too early, and I mourn every one. Innumerable wars are fought, and I stand among the remains and I grieve. You, who have more powers than any mortal has ever achieved, cannot begin to understand more than a tiny, insignificant fraction of what creation is. But as I create, my creations must eventually be destroyed. You of all people, who has experienced death and returned to the living nearly unscathed, should understand more than any that nothing lasts forever. Your world is just one among the many that is approaching its twilight. I cannot save them all, as much as watching a part of myself dwindle away tears at my soul."
"You never answered my question," I thought somewhat tentatively, as I was still reeling from the intense fury that still reverberated in my skull.
"As I mentioned, the Murderer has broken the rules that even we followed, until now. I must intervene before..."
My pulse rattled as I remembered a faint echo of myself asking the same question, with the same doubt. "Before what, and who created rules that gods must follow?"
"We know not. They have been in place since we first became aware, eons past measuring ago. Although we have far more understanding than you or any of my creations will ever obtain, both my twin and I have limits, both in our power and our knowledge, although to you both are so vast they might as well be infinite. Who can create a god when nothing else exists, and who can limit them? I cannot say."
"But then how can the Murderer break these laws, and why can that happen and go unpunished?"
"It is our fundamental instinct to attempt to surpass each other, and it was only a matter of time before one of us tested these edicts. But I do not doubt that his acts will result in retribution. What consequences might come, I do not dare to guess. But in the end this is merely what we have been doing for inestimable epochs, one counteracting the other's actions. But now we have escalated it to a scale that may be far too dangerous. But if I do nothing but repair the damage, then it will spur the Murderer on to larger schemes. No, there must be a way to keep us from pushing too far. But it is up to you to discover it."
"Me? You want an insignificant little mortal like me?"
"Perhaps I will recreate this world after its destruction, and pick a less sarcastic youth as the Guardian next time."
"We're not quite dead yet. Besides, somebody's got to give you grief."
"I suppose anything's better than hearing my sibling's jests for an eternity."
"Yeah, I've noticed that he's got quite a perverse sense of humor."
The Creator did not respond, nor did the divinity say anything further, even after I had reached out. I figured that I had been told all that was necessary. Fine, then. We were approaching the final horde, and I had to be focused solely on battle. If past experiences would hold true, it should be a breeze.
The swarm halted suddenly, and did not still as the Dragoons neared. I guessed that they were setting up camp. I wondered why, for the sun was just beginning to slink beneath the mountains on one side of the cluster of goons, and from what I knew about our enemies, they required less rest than we did. No tents or other shelters were set up, so I assumed the Murderer had made them resistant to Kidur's winter. But if they were sleeping, it would make this massacre even easier. They would be dead before they woke up. Not as if they were truly alive, but that was another matter entirely, and I didn't want to bother debating philosophy again after I had been sufficiently mystified by the Creator's words.
Silent as owls, the Dragoons dove to earth, weapons drawn in the single noise of their descent, a steely rustle, not loud enough to wake our enemies, but even if it had, it could easily have been mistaken for a stray gust of wind. In any case, the fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. They were woken by Victor's first shot, but already nearly decimated by that point, and too disorganized to put up any sort of resistance. Within moments we stood, our work finished, out in the snowfield as the sun's last light turned the powder red beneath our feet like the blood of our vanquished enemies, alone.
Or so we thought.
Too late, I saw the dark shape loom from between two peaks. Seven cat-eye pupils gleamed from the growing twilight. It was all a trap, like a gambit in some massive chess game, and I had been the amateur player who had foolishly seized the bait, thinking myself invincible once being given a few gratuitous pawns to feed my ego. I should have known better, after all we had been through, but the enemy had anticipated my weaknesses yet again, and prepared accordingly, walking right into their grasp. I shouted, hoping the noise would alert the others and give them time to scatter before...
This time, unfortunately, I knew what came next. The brilliant cerulean beam cut through the dusk, taking several warriors with it. I pulled the argent hilt of the Dragon Buster from my belt; the flaming blade flickered into golden life before the magic of the Guardian Dragoon shifted the fires to a bright azure hue. Not that it mattered much. The Divine Dragon itself was a forfeit, not expecting to cause any more damage beyond the initial cannon while he still possessed the lethal relic. Its entire purpose was to take out as many Dragoons as it could, whittling down their numbers to the point where they would lack the magical power to sufficiently destroy the rest of the foe that lay in wait for them.
But I could hardly just let it sit there. It didn't exactly do much for the landscape. Several of the soldiers who had recovered from the blast quickest soared towards the devilish likeness of the King of Dragons. I hissed outwardly, spitting a long stream of curses as I increased my pace, using all of the oaths I knew and some I weren't even aware resided in my vocabulary. I found a few that I really liked, and made a mental note to store those away and add on to them later. In any case, this was hardly the time to broaden my already expansive knowledge in the realm of obscenities. Why were they wasting their time, and possibly their lives, when I had the Dragon Buster? Nothing good would come of it, and they were practically walking into the dragon's open jaws.
Or hooks, as the case may be, and one swipe of said claw sent half a dozen Dragoons tumbling from the air. I doubted they were dead, but repairing the damage would be another costly strain on their magic reserves. I heard a male voice call my name, and I turned my head and spotted Shade close behind me, the turquoise orb of the Dragon Block Staff clamped firmly in his grasp. He had somehow managed to channel his mind through the sphere, and despite the power of the Dragon Buster, the King of Dragons was simply too titanic to fell with one blow. I was welcome for the help as I soared up to the Dragon's eye level, hoping to draw attention to the blazing artifact clutched in my hand. The Dragon's claw swatted at me as if I was an insect, but I knew I was a very dangerous pest. I ducked beneath the paw as it whistled past my head, with claws as large as elephant tusks, barely having time to do a barrel roll to the left as the Dragon's huge tail lashed at me like a whip.
Staying out of reach from the Dragon's claws and teeth, I swerved around several tail swipes, landing near the ridge of spines running down its backbone, each scaly ridge as tall as a man is. I shot up his neck like a bullet, coming to rest at the base of the enormous head. Dodging one last swat from the tail, I plunged the Dragon Buster into the back of the skull. The scorching tip of the archaic saber pierced the beast's nearly impenetrable hide with unmatched ease. I quickly learned that the brain structures of Dragons were different then ours is, and my hope of slicing through the brain stem for an instant death was dashed. But Shade still had the orb, it just meant a great deal more personal discomfort as I kept my death hold tight.
The Divine Dragon's eternal rage was reflected quite clearly in the tormented roar of its fiendish counterpart. My anticipation of unpleasant resistance proved prophetic, as the head twisted, heaved, and bucked, and the tail rained punishing blows on my own skull and neck. The heavy armored plates that protected my shoulders groaned in protest, and my head swam with the force of the blows, but I gripped the runic crosspieces of the sword like a shark to a particularly resolute victim, looking hopefully at Shade. His hands were positioned a good three inches away from the now- levitating crystal, his umber gaze fixed solely upon it, as though something resided in its depths that only he could see. A tremendous shiver ran through the savage, and the globe began to emit shimmering waves of verdant radiance. When the light struck me, I felt the pain wash away, my brain coming into sharper focus. Even the fatigue of the day's flight was gone, and judging by the magic that sang in my blood, he was not only siphoning the Dragon's life force but its arcane powers as well. Despite the fact that I felt like a nail that a giant was attempting to pound into a steel plate with a sledgehammer (for the stolen vitality could only heal the damage that was already inflicted, and although the sensation disappeared immediately, it was hardly an euphoric experience), I smiled. Leave it to Shade to think of something practical.
The two most powerful creations of the golden age of the Winglies took their toll, as they had twice before. The convulsions became more sluggish, the repeated buffets on his shoulder blades almost frail. The glow from the jewel intensified, and Rayen soon got the impression that the behemoth was doing its best just to stay alive. As the majestic yet fearsome seven-eyed face shouted the last of its woe, in more of a fragile shriek than its once- awesome snarl, the sphere cracked, and finally shattered, the strain too powerful to contain inside the fist-sized emerald. Minute shards cascaded down like a glittering green rain, the body beneath me dissipated into wisps of shadowy smoke, and I fell somewhat gracelessly into a snowdrift.
After pushing myself out of the slush, brushing ice off my armor in a halfhearted attempt to salvage my dignity, my armor dwindled into nothingness, my Spirit falling gently into my palm. Although magic was no longer an issue, Shade's ploy had not managed to extend our transformations' spans. I seized the opportunity to pull out both my sword and my previously devised profanities, thrashing the former to release my bitterness and elaborating on the latter in ways best not mentioned in print. After sufficiently expending a good week's worth of damnation, I strode over to Abrian, who had reconstructed some semblance of order while Shade and I fought. "How many did we lose?"
The native shook his ash-blonde mane, leaning on his broadsword with a troubled expression. "Nineteen. A few more caught a partial blow, but they recovered along with the six that were clawed when Shade drained the Dragon."
Nineteen dead. A tenth of our entire force decimated in mere seconds because of my mistake. I heard a deep bass boom from behind me, filled with disappointment and scorn. "You really blew it this time."
I whipped around, expecting to see Victor's stern, unforgiving gaze looking down on me, and instead found myself staring at Oraeus, with a condemning aspect that I had never seen on his usually sympathetic countenance before. He continued, with his words filled with icy disdain. "We're finished now. You know that, don't you?"
I floundered for words. What did he want, an apology? I suddenly tensed out of ire. Who did he think he was, anyway? He, who left his son behind for dead in a burning village, was talking to me like this?
But Oraeus did not relent. "You've driven us into the ground. All they have to do now is bury us."
My brows contracted in anger. The hilt of my sword suddenly felt warm in my palm, and my ears rang with a sudden intense headache. I could scarcely hear his voice, but I knew well enough what was being said, as he verbally picked apart my every flaw. Did he think that I didn't understand?
The next moment was a blur in my eyes, so I can only relate what I heard. Several people screamed, followed by something let out an earthshaking bellow, and there was a deafening crash of metal. When I regained my sight, I found myself staring up from the damp ground into the face of Jineraq, his lips curled back in a scowl that showed his rows of gleaming white fangs, hatred blazing in his amber eyes. Around the Golden Dragon's massive bulk, I saw a crowd of my warriors assembled around us, all staring at me or whatever lay behind Jineraq, obscured from my vision. I craned my neck to see around the drake's flank, and then my whole body went numb.
Artaeris was kneeling in the snow; his face so twisted that the expression was completely unreadable. In his hand was a spherical topaz, shining with a fierce aura of gold. Beside him lay his father, a neat hole through his chest. Almost hypnotically, my eyes traced back to my side. Azmerak, the Destroyer, lay beside me, its silver runes glistening with the half- Giganto's blood.
I had killed Oraeus.
The realization splashed over me like a tidal wave, restoring feeling to me in a rush of freezing pain. The winged shell of darkness that encased me died in a triumphant gleam of shadow. My stone had deceived me into believing it was spent, like a serpent with a single lethal dose left in its venom sacs. With the last spurt of the unnatural dragon-like strength I had, I shoved Jineraq away, where he bunched up and prepared to pounce again, but half a dozen humans scurried up and caught hold of him. Glancing around in a final horrified, desperate endeavor to find something other than a gaunt, bleak, and hopeless face in the crowd, I seized my now- disenchanted sword and ran. I sped off without direction, with no course but escape. My boots sunk into the snow as I fled, leaving my footprints behind in the crumpled flakes.
At the time, I refused to look back, not wanting to see them watching me as I bolted like a coward. But my trail betrayed the truth. The faster I ran, the further my feet sank. The deeper my footprints, the more snow it would require to fill those holes. The harder I fled, the longer it would be before I ever could turn around and understand what lay behind me.
Author's Note: That chapter was nearly three times as long as my average Rebirth chapter. 4,100 words... no wonder my brain is fried. In any case, this story will be 84 chapters long upon its completion. After this, we have one more chapter, then Last Battle Parts Uno y Dos, and then the Epilogue! Yay, I'm ALMOST DONE.