Aetheral Space-Chapter 527 - 0.18: War in Heaven

The battle between Azez the Absolute and the traitor Edgar would last only three seconds.

Edgar knew that, if the battle came to last four seconds, he would surely die. He didn't know how exactly he knew this. Perhaps it was the invisible guidance of the Prince that sat at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was simply an animal instinct facing the ultimate predator.

Whatever the case… he had to move.

Beast Crown somewhat evened the gap between Edgar and Azez in terms of raw power, but the gulf of skill and experience was insurmountable. Azez knew that Edgar knew this, and Azez knew that Edgar was no fool, and so he knew that -- by all rights -- Edgar's first move should have been to create some distance between the two of them.

Yes, Azez knew that Edgar was no fool, and was fighting under that assumption. That basic respect was the only opening the First Supreme had.

Edgar would have to fight in the manner of a fool, then.

He kicked off the ground -- not to escape, but to launch himself directly towards Azez, killing caution even before he threw it to the wind. He didn't curl his hands into fists. There was no time, and it was unnecessary anyway. An open palm would suffice for the strategy placed inside Edgar's thoughts.

Six tiny points of light clicked into existence around Azez's body, three floating over each shoulder. His Superiorities. This was an application of his golden Aether that Azez had developed after Edgar left the Supremacy, but he'd done enough research on Azez's fights to be familiar with them. Upon detonation, each Superiority could unleash force equivalent to a low-level Supreme Shine.

One of those alone would be enough to kill most opponents. Even with Beast Crown's almighty infusion, Edgar knew he could only withstand two or three at best.

They flew at him, painfully slow in the stretched-out moment of crisis. Edgar did not have the luxury of dignity right now. The dodge he executed was ugly, barely even distinguishable from a stumble -- but the Superiorities flew over his shoulders, just barely missing him. They began to circle back before the first second even ended. He hadn't even bought himself a breath.

That was fine, though. That was still good. He had turned certain death into probable death.

He was within a meter of Azez now, palm outstretched, feeling the ambient heat prickling at his skin. Smoke rose from the back of his hand. At this point, to even stand near the Supreme was dangerous -- even with Beast Crown's infusion, Edgar knew he would combust if he stayed here too long.

Not that Azez would give him the chance. Already, the Supreme was raising a hand, ready to deploy Supreme Shine personally from near point-blank range. Edgar couldn't allow that. In this second second of the most dangerous fight of his life, he would perish the moment he let his enemy do anything.

And so blue Aether coalesced around Edgar's hand -- and he fired it at Azez's face.

This had been the first disappointment of Aether, back when Edgar had been figuring out how it all worked. They'd hoped they could just fire bolts of magical lightning from their hands and easily burn the Gene Tyrants to cinders, but -- as everyone knew now -- Aether was a useless projectile on its own. Well, nearly useless.

It was bright, after all -- and for just an instant, Azez hesitated, his vision suddenly obscured by that bright blue aurora.

The third second came.

Edgar and Azez collided. Edgar's hand tore through the paper veil, and for a brief moment Azez's face was visible. Age and illness had done him no favours. This was a withered, haggard version of the bright-eyed man Edgar had once known -- but more than that. A tumorous mass had begun to push its way out through the skin of his face, splitting his features diagonally.

That mass was Edgar's target. A scream of exertion and what might have been terror poured out of his throat -- and he planted his hand against Azez's deformity.

Infuse!

Attack was forgotten. Defense was abandoned. In that third second, with the Superiorities at his back, with hellfire already trickling through Azez's hand, Edgar poured all of the Aether that Beast Crown had scavenged from the battlefield directly into the palm of his hand…

…and from there, it flowed into the thing slowly killing Azez.

It was a gamble. A nearly certain gamble, but a gamble nonetheless. Azez would not be infusing the tumours -- perhaps a little bit for durability's sake, but not enough to enhance their diabolical function. With the sheer amount of Aether Edgar commanded, he would be able to overpower that infusion easily.

The gamble paid off.

Azez's scream tore through the air, and his hand -- spasming upwards reflexively -- tore through the sky with unholy light. As the affliction in his body ran wild, empowered by Edgar's Aether, the Superiorities went wild too, flying off in random directions as if they'd lost their connection to their master. Edgar narrowed his eyes as the death that had been imminent zoomed away.

His work here was done. He went to leap backwards, to begin his retreat…

…but Azez's hand gripped his collar.

The tumours were forcing their way out through his face, his features being pushed apart and crushed, but the hatred in Azez's good eye did not abate. If anything, it grew more ferocious, agony converting into odium at an astounding exchange rate. Even so, though, his body was on the verge of collapsing -- the enemy within was more potent than any normal foe -- with only another second of consciousness remaining to him.

The fourth second. The second that Edgar could not afford.

Wait.

A single Superiority trailed across Azez's arm…

Wait!

…and into Edgar's open mouth.

WAIT!

"Supreme Shine," growled Azez, his grip already slipping away, his legs already giving out.

Beast Crown blazed with blue light, all the infusion it could provide pouring into Edgar, bolstering his defenses, preparing to mitigate this damage from the inside. Everything, everything he had, everything he could do, focused on surviving this one attack. He could do it, he could do it, he could do it.

The blue light shone bright indeed --

-- but the golden light that exploded from within drowned it out in an instant.

By the time that Edgar woke up, he already knew he was dying.

The sky was moving above him, shifting as his rescuer took step after heavy step. The Fool. As commanded, it had retrieved him after the battle. Yes… the fact that he could remember that was one thing, at least. His brain at least had to be mostly intact. But he was dying all the same.

He could feel it.

The Prince could feel it. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

When he opened his mouth, smoke poured out. The remnants of Azez's attack. To be honest, Beast Crown's infusion had actually been more effective than Edgar had expected. He hadn't died instantly, after all. There was time. Maybe even weeks… or months… before this finished killing him.

Time enough to plan.

No, time enough to execute a plan.

He was a mechanism, after all, not the machinist. He had already handed the baton of his dream to the Prince. Now, the time had come to hand the baton of the Prince to a worthy successor. It was just as he'd expected from the beginning. One lifetime wasn't enough to bring peace and joy to all mankind.

"Azez?" he croaked, blue eyes fixed up towards the sky.

The Fool's response was wonderfully mechanical, void of personality. "THE SUPREME WAS RETRIEVED BY SUBORDINATES IN CRITICAL CONDITION," it grated. "LOADED ONTO SHIP. MEDICAL EVACUATION SUCCESSFUL. CURRENT STATUS UNKNOWN."

He vaguely wondered if this had been the Prince's intention from the beginning, to create this timer. Had it been hoping he and Azez would mortally wound each other like this? Of course, that would mean the creation was actively trying to get its creator killed.

Well, if that was part of the plan, it was fine. He'd been teaching the Prince about human nature for decades now. It'd be hypocritical to complain that it acted on it.

"Margarethe?" Edgar asked, his throat burning.

He wondered why he was asking about her. She'd already decided to blend into the galaxy, to do nothing but watch and live a relatively normal life. Whatever happened to her from now on shouldn't have that much influence on the plan.

Was she his friend, perhaps, or the closest thing someone like him could have to one? They'd spent years in each other's company, after all. It wouldn't be that strange.

"SHIP DEPARTED AFTER END OF CONTACT," the Fool reported. "CURRENT STATUS UNKNOWN."

"I see," Edgar murmured.

She'd managed to leave without incident, then. Was that good? Was he happy? There was no time to dwell on it. There was no time to dwell on anything any more.

The timer was ticking.

"Take me to my ship, Fool," Edgar gasped. "It's time to go home."

Garleysey was a quiet place.

The grass was green, the trees were tall, and the sky was nearly always a vibrant blue. When night came, a native form of firefly-like insects would emerge from their hives, illuminating the forests in the absence of the sun. In terms of technology, it was barely one step above a Lilith World -- most travel between the major settlements was done on horseback. This was a world for simple lives.

Garleysey was a nice place.

It was where the one called the Blindman had made his final home.

Zarakhel's house was right at the edge of a small village called Turton, beside the River Glamstig. For his first few years here, after the end of the Blindman's Hunt, he'd kept himself to himself. The house had been tiny, nothing more than a place to nurse his wounds -- within and without -- until the time came to take up his spear again.

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But time had passed. A life had begun. Now, the house was just as tiny, but everything outside seemed so much bigger.

On that day, Zarakhel was riding back to his cottage after an errand in the next town over. He hadn't aged a day since the revolution -- not on the outside, anyway -- and yet most of his comrades would no longer recognise him. Well, perhaps they would recognise him, but not as the Blindman. His once-empty sockets were now occupied by artificial eyes, after all, their grey pupils scanning the forest as he trotted his steed home.

He paused. He frowned.

On the other side of the river, far past his cottage, he could see a starship parked between the trees. That alone was strange enough -- there weren't many starships on Garleysey outside of the biggest cities -- but it wasn't what made Zarakhel's heartbeat quicken. What did that was the thing standing next to the starship, keeping guard with mace in hand.

The Fool.

"Grapapa! Grapapa!"

Zarakhel turned his gaze forward once more. His granddaughter, Sersei, had come barreling out of the cottage and running towards him. She was grinning from ear to ear, excited in the way only children can be, her long silver hair hanging low over her face.

He relaxed a little at the sight of her. He'd been giving her pocket money to take care of the cottage for him while he was away. Whoever had come -- and it was a short list -- they didn't seem to mean harm.

"Good to see you, pup," he muttered, eyes fixed on the cottage as Sersei skidded to a halt next to him. "We've got visitors?"

"Mm-hmm!" She parted her bangs so he could see her widened eyes. "He says he's your brother! He looks just like you, Grapapa!"

With those words, his posture stiffened once again. Unless a certain someone had come back from the dead, there was only one person this could be -- and if it was him, Zarakhel had no idea what to expect.

"Stay outside for me, won't you, pup?" he said, dismounting and letting Sersei take his horse by the lead.

This was a face that Zarakhel didn't wear much on Garleysey. These days, he didn't like to wear it much at all. It was the face that knew danger. The face that knew war.

At the sight of his serious expression, Sersei's excitement died, just a little. "Uh… is everything okay, Grapapa?"

He nodded as he strode towards the cottage, towards the door to his home. "It's fine. Just wait out here." He turned the handle and stepped inside.

Just as he'd thought.

Edgar had already made himself at home, sitting in the armchair that had pride of place in the sitting room. His hands were clasped demurely on his lap, and his blue eyes only moved away from the wall when Zarakhel entered the room.

Not for the first time, Zarakhel found that this man reminded him of a machine.

Edgar smiled.

"It's been a while," his brother said -- but the way he spoke was as if only seconds had passed since they'd last seen each other. "I need your help with something."

Zarakhel let the door close slowly behind him.

"It has been a while," he echoed uncertainly. "Have you been… you okay, man?"

"Hm? I'm fine," Edgar replied, but when he shifted in his seat Zarakhel could see the pain that twitched across his face. Intense, intense pain.

Zarakhel took a deep breath. "I heard you fought with Azez… before he went. I didn't believe it, to be honest."

"You were there?"

"Not at the battle, no," Zarakhel said somberly. "I was there when he passed, though. All made up like I used to be. He wouldn't have recognised me otherwise, the way he was."

There was silence in the cottage for a long moment before Zarakhel finally asked.

"Did you kill him?"

Edgar's blue eyes looked up into Zarakhel's grey… and the master of the Sapphire Star blinked first.

"Yes," he said. "He killed me, too, if it's any consolation."

Zarakhel raised his eyebrows.

"This body won't function for much longer," Edgar continued. "That's part of why I'm here. There are last bits of business I need to take care of."

"Loose ends?" Zarakhel asked cautiously.

"Nothing so terminal," Edgar smiled faintly. "Sit down. My neck hurts looking up at you like this."

Zarakhel remained standing. After a moment, Edgar seemed to accept the decision, his gaze sliding instead to the window. Outside, Sersei was tending to the horse.

"How many of those do you have now?" Edgar asked.

"Horses?"

"Children."

"Grandchildren," Zarakhel corrected. "Two -- three in a couple of months."

"That's so nice for you."

Edgar was trying to be personable. Clearly, it didn't come naturally to him. Zarakhel suppressed a shudder.

"I don't want to be rude," Zarakhel said, pulling the blinds closed. "But you said you needed my help with something. What is it?"

Edgar smiled. It had never looked emptier.

"Well," he said. "Why don't you save the world with me?"

Zarakhel took a deep breath. It felt like he'd heard this whole thing before -- before Azum-Ha, before Durandara, before Azez. The call to action that had led them to this point. He didn't regret that decision, nor all that had resulted from it… but this was a path with familiar footprints. His gaze went over his sitting room as if he was seeing it for the first time. Edgar didn't blink.

Finally, Zarakhel opened his mouth. "Do you want some tea?"

Edgar's smile faltered a tad. "What?"

"I know you prefer coffee, but I don't have any, sorry," Zarakhel said, heading over into the kitchen and quickly getting to work. His voice drifted in through the doorway. "The tea's really good here, though, on Garleysey. They have a special way of making it."

"Okay." Edgar's voice sounded like Zarakhel had started speaking an alien language.

"There are trees… what am I saying, you know there are trees, they're everywhere," Zarakhel chuckled, boiling the kettle. "But there are these especially tall trees, skyladders we call them, and the leaves that grow at the top -- I don't remember what they're called -- they make this really great tea."

Edgar turned his head to look at Zarakhel's back through the doorway. "That's fine."

"The point is -- we have a festival, every year, Skyladder Day. All these stalls are set up, and all these games, and… the kids love it. I used to listen to them doing this from right here, through the window, back when I was still angry and hurt and -- and monstrous all the time. I don't even remember the first time I actually went out on Skyladder Day myself. I don't think there was a special reason for it, really. That's where I met… anyway, I go there every year now. It's happening again in a couple of months."

"Sorry," Edgar stood up with a grunt of pain, limping over into the kitchen. "I think you don't get it. I'm not speaking figuratively when I say 'save the world'. My plan will bring peace and joy to all mankind -- on a permanent basis."

"Did you kill Bieshu?" Zarakhel asked, pouring the cups.

"What?"

"Bieshu del Mar," Zarakhel continued, still facing away. "Don't tell me you've forgotten her. That was the whole reason you went on the run, right? That girl Ruri told everyone you'd killed her, and then you fled right after."

Edgar said nothing.

"Right…" Zarakhel mumbled.

"Whatever I did or didn't do is irrelevant," Edgar said. "Everything up to this point has been for the greater good. You know that. The Sapphire Star. Aether. Because of me, we were able to bring down the Gene Tyrants. Not everything that led up to that was so nice, but you know I took no pleasure in it."

"That's what scares me," Zarakhel said, spoon scraping against the sides of the cup as he stirred. "You don't take pleasure in anything. You could do anything if you thought you needed to, and you wouldn't feel a thing."

"That's a good thing," Edgar replied. "If I was the sort of person who hesitated, it'd be impossible for us to save the world. So when I say that I need you, you know that I actually need you. It's not because I don't want to be alone or some sentimental reason like that. The next place I'm going to could be dangerous, and I need your strength. That's the only reason."

"I saw the Fool outside. There's that ability of yours, too. That's not enough strength?"

"The Fool is involved," Edgar said. "I've finally managed to find the origin point of the Arcana Automatica, the factory that builds and deploys them. I need to speak to their creator -- I need them to help me to make my dream a reality -- and I need you to protect me while I do that. That's all. That's all you need to do to save the world."

He stepped forwards, eyes wide, a hopeful smile on his lips.

"You'll help me, won't you, big brother?"

Zarakhel sighed, finally turning away from the counter. He put a heavy hand on Edgar's shoulder.

"No," he said.

The smile vanished like it had never even been there. "Huh?" Edgar asked, voice low.

"You waited too long," Zarakhel said softly. "This place is my world now -- and it doesn't need saving."

Edgar furrowed his brow. "What? What are you even saying? This isn't what you're like."

Zarakhel snorted. As Edgar looked at him uncomprehendingly, he just smiled -- not unkindly. "You know," he said. "Back in the day, before we even joined up with Azez… I always thought you saw the world so much more clearly than me. Like you understood everything, and I just didn't. You'd point the finger and I'd stab my spear in that direction. But that's not true at all, is it?"

Edgar narrowed his eyes.

"You're like a little kid," Zarakhel finished.

Suddenly gritting his teeth, Edgar slapped Zarakhel's hand away from his shoulder. Faint sparks of blue drifted in the air. Slowly, Zarakhel lowered his hand.

"Fuck you," Edgar spat. "It's exactly as you said. You don't understand anything, you never have. The only thing you were ever good for was killing the enemy, and now that you can't even do that, you think you've acquired some value? When I say 'peace and joy for all mankind', it's for all mankind, the big picture, not just the tiny people on this tiny rock you've decided to rot away on."

Zarakhel's grey eyes flicked up and down, taking Edgar in. His gritted teeth, his clenched fists, his heavy breathing. "Wow," he said quietly. "It's like I'm meeting you for the first time."

"What do you know?" Edgar snarled, stepping back. "Coward. I hate you. I've always hated you. Who needs you, anyway? I have the Fool, and I'm stronger than you anyway. I was being nice by even bothering to ask, and this is what you do? You're so determined to be meaningless, it's actually funny."

"Maybe it's as you say," Zarakhel said steadily. "Maybe I don't understand this big picture you talk about… but I think my little picture has made me much more happy than your big picture has made you."

Edgar rolled his eyes. "It's not about happiness." He said it like it was something vulgar.

"Isn't it?" Zarakhel raised an eyebrow. "Peace and joy, right? Well, here's my peace…" he ran his hand against the kitchen counter. "...and out there is my joy." He nodded towards the window.

Edgar wrinkled his nose. "You're not even making sense anymore," he sneered.

"I'd like for you to leave now," Zarakhel sighed.

For a second, it looked like Edgar would keep going. It even looked like he might try something, hovering on the sole of his foot as if readying himself for a sudden movement. In the end, though, he just clicked his tongue and turned on his heel.

"Whatever," he muttered, stalking off and out the front door.

Zarakhel never saw him again.

He hadn't played that situation optimally. Edgar understood that. At Zarakhel's ill-considered words, the symptoms of anger had risen up in him, and he'd even ignored the advice of the Prince in favour of lashing out at that moron. There was a golden path that would have led to the two of them stepping out of this house together, but Edgar had sprinted off in the wrong direction, driven by emotion of all things.

This was just more proof. A human being was not suitable for saving the world.

The girl Sersei was waiting by the path that led towards the river, looking at him curiously with those blue eyes, so similar to his. Edgar diverted his path towards her on his way back to the ship -- the Prince was saying there was no need, but that thunder was still in his heartbeat, needing to be indulged. Even he didn't know what he intended as he planted a firm hand on her shoulder and squatted down.

There was a violent impulse, barely restrained, and Edgar spoke instead.

"Your daddy kills people," he hissed, spittle flying from his lips.

Then, he got up and stormed off towards his starship, moving with such force that he nearly knocked the girl over. The Fool waited for him by the boarding ramp. That machine was all that he needed -- something that knew to do as it was told. It had been unnecessary to even bother coming here.

Peace and joy for all mankind.

That was the one thing. The only concern. The time had come for the baton to slip from Edgar's hand entirely.

The time had come to die and live forever.