Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided-Chapter 235. The Very Blade Himself
235. The Very Blade Himself
A suffocating denseness hung in the air, making it impossible to breathe. The deadly light from the blade danced erratically across the concrete walls. He was here: the very blade himself, locked in place by glowing chains that bound firmly around a rectangular metal frame, which in turn was secured to the central pillars.
Zetius recognised the distinct design of the legendary beast — the claws, the feather, and the glowing eye emblazoned at the centre of the hilt. It was the Thanatos-spatha.
This was why Aurora had been practising with other weapons earlier, mulling over her different options.
Aurora flicked her fingers, dismissing another layer of protection. A phoros barrier emitted a brilliant light, and a deep hum, similar to a rumbling chuckle, filled the room. It was alive. There was no doubt about it.
“Hmm, hmm… You have brought me a guest, brilliant mortal,” the blade said. His voice was a sonorous undertone, like an echo, his tone a mixture of the playful and the commanding.
“What is this?” Zetius gasped in horror. “It can talk?”
“It? Oh, I’d rip your heart out and drag your soul into oblivion if it weren’t for these shackles,” the voice hissed.
Zetius’s boots scraped the floor as he stumbled back. “Crap…” He cupped his lips.
“Just kidding…” the blade spoke, his tone shifting to one of levity. “I couldn’t possibly doom the entire mortal races for such pettiness. But I would appreciate it if you could address me as…” He paused dramatically. “The god of death, Thanatos.”
His words hung in the air, a vapour cloud of darkness that smothered the light. His presence alone was suffocating them. Aurora cleared her throat to steady herself — a sight Zetius never expected to witness.
“What’s going on here?” Zetius whispered softly, his eyes glued to the flickering flame, ensuring only the empress could hear.
“My blade decided he should have a voice,” Aurora said. Her tone was ambiguous. Zetius couldn’t tell if she was joking or being serious.
It all clicked into place. This was why she had sought him out. She was no longer confident in her ultimate weapon.
“Tell me, god of death, Thanatos,” Aurora began, her voice firm, “what do you mean by ‘dooming the entire mortal races’?”
“You mortals do love your word games. I wonder if that is an inherited or a newly-evolving trait…” he drawled. “Very well, I shall enlighten you. He is the man who has been touched by the goddess Gaia.”
“The champion of Gaia?” Aurora questioned, drifting closer.
“Ah, yes…” Thanatos confirmed. “That must be it.”
As Zetius opened and closed his mouth, unable to articulate a single thought, Aurora raised a hand. “So, does this mean you are not against us?”
“Death is finite, something none of you can escape. I am the engine of death, I am death…”
The words were frigid, creeping under the skin and causing the hairs on Zetius’s arms to stand on end.
“And to answer your question, I am neither with you nor against you, Essenceborn,” the sword confirmed.
Zetius turned sharply to Aurora. “How could a living god have been imbued into your weapon all this time?” he asked, genuinely shocked.
“I don’t know. The Thanatos-spatha has been an innate essence passed down the Borealis bloodline, although not every family member is guaranteed to inherit it. Take my mother, for example, she didn’t have this,” Aurora explained with a shrug.
“A gap in your history, mortals,” Thanatos interjected coldly. “During the Divine Dissonance, the battle between the gods and the titans shaped terrains. Eons of volcanic eruptions, acid rains, ages of ice, firestorms, maelstroms… Yet, it wasn’t enough to tip the scales of war.”
“Hence, us… The mortal races,” Aurora chimed in, the blade’s flame dancing in her eyes.
“Precisely…” Thanatos paused, surprised. “The mortal races were created for war. But war requires more than just power. The gods are never simple, and so are you. Logistics, infrastructure, strategy, and much more were needed. But most importantly, you were made in our image. Your ability to hold our powers was the grand architecture of it all. Brilliant.”
Did he just admire us? At least his sentiment isn’t hostile, Zetius thought.
“The slot architecture, you mean,” Aurora asked for clarification.
“Ah! That must be it,” Thanatos continued. “The gods bestowed their power… perhaps a fraction of their unlimited might, upon your ancestors, turning them into millions of capable warriors. And together, we were winning…”
The blade glowed erratically. “Your bloodline must have been one of the ancient ones, or even purer, Essenceborn.”
“That explains why lineage and bloodline matter so much for arcanists,” Aurora blinked, remembering her great-great-grandfather and mother were second cousins. There was a record of such practised arrangements from about four thousand years ago.
“There was a fail-safe in the divine design,” Thanatos explained. “The fallen gods may have dissipated, but their fragments could never fully cease to exist. Energy, power, and matter are never destroyed, they merely change forms. The creations of Gaia can capture these lingering fragments, if they can resonate with such essences.”
“I see. We have been harnessing the power of divinity all this time,” Aurora mulled over the revelation.
“You’re saying… You are a fragment of the fallen Thanatos?” Zetius speculated.
“Correct. The divine is immortal, but not invincible. That part is true and universal,” Thanatos muttered.
Zetius looked at him, baffled. How could the god of death fall? What even was the concept of death? His mortal mind struggled to grasp such an abstract concept.
“With enough energy, anything can be unmade. Even the universe itself,” Aurora said, closing her eyes.
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“So your minds aren’t so feeble after all,” Thanatos’s voice shifted, laced with contentment. “Gaia must be very proud of her creation.”
“Why now? What is it that you desire?” Aurora asked firmly. “There is no record of you ever awakening in our family’s record.”
“The end is nigh…” the voice crept into their minds. “The gods of the apocalypse are awakened. It is the prophecy, the will of the heavens… or perhaps, the twisted hand of Fates…”
An image flashed in Zetius’s mind — the tapestry the recon party had found in Ignius’s cave. “Ares, Limos, Apollo, and…” Zetius swallowed hard with dread, “Thanatos.”
A deep chuckle echoed in the room.
“And you… Champion of Gaia. Do you possess the power to rival the gods, the monstrosity, and the titans?” Thanatos’s voice faded into the abyss as the light dimmed.
Grabbing his arm, Aurora ushered Zetius out of the room, and the arc barrier resumed its function, blocking out the blade’s eerie noises.
After the doors closed and sealed behind them, she exhaled deeply. “So, the fact is indeed confirmed.”
“What?” Zetius blinked, still in a daze as he processed everything he had just witnessed.
“Thanatos confirmed you’re the champion of Gaia,” Aurora said, staring into his eyes.
“But… I~I don’t have the primordial essences anymore,” Zetius argued. “As much as I want to protect this world and the people I love, I can’t.” He choked on his own words, his face contorting in pain. He couldn’t protect Lupus and Frain as Jack. He couldn’t save her from vengeance. He had failed, again and again.
“Zetius…” Aurora locked his gaze, feeling the tremor in his arm. This was a man half-broken, not their saviour. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone softening.
“No, Empress. I cannot even win against a Lunarius. You can’t expect me to fight gods, let alone titans,” he admitted bitterly. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
His resolve was a flickering flame in a heavy downpour, fighting on its last breath. The world would not wait for him to recover, but at her own expense, Aurora would.
“You’re right,” Aurora whispered, letting go of his arm. “You should never have to shoulder this alone. We’ll figure something else out. Together, Zetius.”
He could feel the warmth behind her dignified expression, something that told him the empress genuinely cared for him — not as the champion of Gaia, or as her warrior, but as a human being. Her voice drew him a little closer to the light.
While he stood pondering like a statue, Aurora waved him to follow. “But first, it is depressing and suffocating in here. This way.”
“Y~yes,” he stammered and tailed behind her.
Breakfast was never a small affair. The dining chamber housed a long, decorated table with nearly ten wooden chairs on each side. There was more food than one could imagine, imported from seven continents and rotating between three courses: entrée, main, and dessert.
Zetius fidgeted with his fork on the porcelain plate. Meanwhile, Cubie was joyfully assaulting her taste buds with every single dish brought out by Mirai and her maids.
One thing was clear, the awkward, almost unwelcome stare shot at him from afar. It was from a kitten Wildren with dark hair and flopped ears. She sat next to Triss, nearest to the empress at the head of the table.
Her name is Cartier or something, Zetius thought, resting his cheek on his fist. His appetite wasn’t present, and that seemed to bother her — either that or the fact that he was the only man at the table. He could never be sure.
The atmosphere suddenly tensed. No one offered a word, and only the faint clanking of cutlery reverberated in the background.
“Say, Zetius!” Triss clasped her hands, her voice small and her expression timid. “Cartier is wondering if you’re enjoying the food. This platter of succulent ribs is amongst the best, wouldn’t you like to try?”
Zetius raised his hand politely. “No, thanks,” he said, then watched Cubie serve one onto her own plate with a brilliant smile.
“You can’t teach a man hunger,” Cartier whispered to Triss, a clear jab at him.
“What is this kid’s problem?” Zetius muttered, furrowing his brows.
“Cartier is a bit defensive,” Triss chuckled to herself, “especially when a man is trying to court her mother figure.”
“What?!” Zetius choked, literally coughing with tears in his eyes.
“I’m not being defensive! He’s rude!” Cartier accused, tucking her hands under her armpits.
“I’m not rude, I am depressed,” Zetius argued, a vein popping on his forehead.
“O’ Heavenly Mother. Everyone, please remain calm!” Triss raised her tone.
“Nice one, Terissa,” Aurora chuckled, sipping a glass of water. “Your sense of humour seems to improve by the day.”
“My humble gratitude, Empress,” Triss nodded before returning to her plate, full of veggies and fruits.
Aurora raised her hand; their banters faded. “Cartier, please spare the man some slack. He just went through hell and back,” She lectured her flatly. “Rarely have I seen someone land a blow on Nyrethein and still walk. It is not a normal feat.” She glanced over, giving Zetius a nod of acknowledgement, which made him smile bashfully.
“Understood, Empress… But isn’t it hard to believe? I’m just not expecting a Novitcius.” She glared at his ring, provoking him to raise his brow to counter. “Are you sure it’s not the Prime Guardian of Solis Aeternum? Friederich Eir Regis is very powerful!”
Zetius closed his eyes. There was so much hostility that he would rather flee back to Solis Aeternum and hide. But it was never that simple.
“I am sure. The blade of Thanatos confirmed it himself,” Aurora said firmly. “And you came to me with the revelation from the fragment of Clothia, have you forgotten?”
“Ugh… The gods can still lie, no?” Cartier argued, looking back and forth to Triss for support. Triss waved her hands dismissively, not wanting to get involved.
Triss finished a sip of water and cleared her throat, “Zetius put a stop to the Umbral war for good! So, I wholeheartedly believe it too!”
Cartier continued, “But the report said—“
“No,” Aurora clipped. “I’m convinced he is. And with enough time, you’ll be convinced too.” Her silver eyes locked on Zetius, her look reaffirming her words.
Cartier drew her lips into a thin line. “Understood, Empress,” her voice faded to a whisper.
“Speaking of which, I must excuse myself and skip dessert.” Regal in her motion, Aurora dabbed her lips with a napkin. “The world of politics will keep spinning whether I want it or not. I must go to the audience chamber and will not be available until the late evening.”
“Someone mentioned dessert?” Cubie mumbled, glancing around as a group of maids began to exchange the dishes for a full course of confectionery. It was enough sugar to give someone a diabetic arrest three times over. But Cubie wasn’t just someone; Zetius highly doubted she digested food the same way humans did.
A chair leg dragged against the carpet with a screech. Aurora stood and walked over to Cartier. She patted her adoringly on the head. “Can I expect you to keep our esteemed guest company?”
Cartier’s eyes darkened as she slowly turned her head to Aurora. “Ke~keep him company, Empress?” Her voice reached its highest pitch. Aurora returned a faint smile before striding through the doors.
“No worries, little Cartier. I’ll be helping out as well!” Triss offered, reluctantly raising her hand.
“So… what do you do, anyway?” Zetius asked suddenly.
“Research…” Cartier admitted bashfully.
“What kind?” Zetius probed further, his intrigue piqued.
“Anything related to the sixth apocalypse,” Cartier muttered, her voice small as a thin layer of sweat formed on her forehead.
“Ah! I see, through the library?” Zetius asked.
“Yes… We also fact-check with other scribes,” Cartier replied.
“That sounds fun!” Zetius beamed. “Mind if I tag along?”
Her brows jerked up in surprise, her expression brightening. “You like books too?”
“Of course, I do!” Zetius said, his voice husky and confident. “Cubie also likes books, especially manufacturers’ manuals for machines.”
“Yes, yes!” Cubie nodded, sparing what little attention she had left from nibbling on a cupcake.
The sharp retort Cartier expected never came. Instead, Zetius’s enthusiasm caught her completely off guard, and the hard line of her mouth softened. Against her will, a small, curious smile tugged at her lips. This quiet, bookish side was not what she had expected from the warmongering arcanists. Triss beamed, relieved at the sudden but welcome truce. With a new, shared purpose, their journey to the grand library began.







