by Marc Mulero
Before he could digest the brain bash, Mulderan shoved the butt of his stick into his brother’s gut.
Blague was blown back into his deepest nightmares and most scarring memories: his father dying to protect him, his friend sacrificing his life to rid the world of the Aura, the commanders that he let down in this struggle of hierarchy. Briggs’ bullet-ridden body, Lito’s lifeless arm swinging under Sabin’s embrace, and his love, his precious love being drained of all that made her beautiful. These memories flashed by to haunt him.
Yet, it wasn’t over. Because when these memories cycled past, when all of the despair fell away like sand, there stood Elaina, clear as day, in the flesh form that he recalled from so long ago.
He reached for her, grasping, but she was too otherworldly to be touched. Outlined with an angelic shine, skin flawless and perfect… just like Blague remembered in their days together. He wanted to stay here forever and just gaze upon her.
Now wasn’t the time though, her expression said so. There was a determination there that begged him to focus.
“We can do anything, love, even come back from this. Find strength in our eternal unity. The Neraphis showed us the way. We’re more than this. Together, we are the symbol of hope.” She embraced her partner, disarming him of all of his anxiety in that moment. She leaned her head back to stare up into his green eyes, arming him with her confidence. “We are an Ardian, Blague, like your parents before you.”
The Sin Leader’s wounds disappeared in his perception, ignoring them to see himself for what he was - a pinnacle of strength. He was rage balanced by serenity. As an Ardian, they were a flame that could not be stomped out.
“Aslock saw what we could not, back in the Citadel. But I see it now,” she assured. “We are the fire that can match your brother, the fire that can defeat Rol.”
Blague rose from his drowning nightmares and caught his breath as he returned. He blinked hard to remember that this reality was something twisted and terrible, one that his brother had shaped. And there he was – Mulderan – in all of his arrogance, emboldened by the smoke’s swirling madness, ready to leisurely end another life that he proclaimed to be undeserving.
“Farewell, brother,” the Highest Lord declared. “Blague the Rebel, son of the Great Orin,” he mocked, and then jabbed the butt of his flaring staff toward Blague’s trachea.
The strike was lightning fast, but somehow stopped short so abruptly, at the last second, only inches away from puncturing deep into his throat. Now the staff was shakenly in place. Two sets of hands grasped on either end, fighting to win.
Blague was losing. “Argh,” he groaned, teeth gritted, using all of his might to stop what would be his death. And just as the blunt end slowly pressed against his throat, just as his trachea was about to cave in, he shouted, “Rah!” and forced a surge of Cryos into the steel pipe that burst through the other side like a firecracker. Roaring energy flew into Mulderan’s face.
It worked.
A shudder contorted his expression, and when the moment of surprise fleeted, a spinning kick found his cheek, striking high to send the Hiezer reeling back.
A few stumbled steps left Mulderan off-balance, hands waving away the heat. But he coughed, straightened, and lifted his gaze to see his brother recovering his blade in the same motion as his kick. The man was shining… his brother, Blague, was shining with some holographic film – a barrier of the Earth’s blood. He couldn’t believe it.
Mulderan sniffed haughtily to downplay it, even laughed at the chemical bolstering Blague’s fists.
But when Blague’s blade ignited, attaching exponential strength to each strike that followed, it became serious.
Swings whipped with fury, faster than Mulderan could defend, so precise that he cut past the chinks in his armor and into the Highest Lord’s smoky body.
Blague was shocked. Why wasn’t he slowing down? Why after every slice, after every stab, Mulderan spilt no blood. How?
Only laughter was expelled, mocking his brother who dashed back, drew his Desert Eagle, and let loose everything he had.
A frivolous attempt.
With a wave of his hand Mulderan commanded Rol to make the bullets vanish within its haze.
Blague’s brow furrowed. Again… how? His energy was draining now, patience fading. “Fine, Mulderan.” He shoved both his weapons into sheath and holster, raising his fists. “Let’s settle this how we used to back then.”
“Ignite me, Elaina,” he whispered in his mind.
His legs and arms lit with intensity, encircled by Cryos.
“Hah!” Mulderan was entertained by Blague’s attempts to defeat him, and then obliged. He unlatched his pauldrons, pushed away the smoke’s embrace, abandoning his nightmarish identity and leaving only the slim frame of muscle and vein holding up his pretty face.
Fists went up, same as his brother, one foot inching forward, finding his stance to brawl one last time.
When Mulderan’s mockery subsided and Blague’s rage stilled, there was only one thing left: the poetry of strikes, poetry of old warriors in young bodies. Every fist was met with an opposing deflection, every foot was waved down or ducked. But through all of it, Blague had an advantage – it was two versus one after all – Mulderan had never experienced a fight with this version of Elaina.
Her thoughts seeped through Blague’s kicks, finding targets that he would never have thought to look for. Then when Mulderan slipped, he found his shin, chin, and temple struck within the same second. Vibrant colors flew with every strike.
The Highest Lord was curled over, still pushing Rol away to suffer the blows, allowing himself the sweetness of pain. It was exhilarating. To feel mortal again, it gave him power. Ambition.
He dug deep into old memories and teachings of combat, sending his long legs fighting back to advance in perfect form, clanking armored feet against bare-armed blocks. And when he was done, his last whirling attack ended with a lingering foot held high overhead, before slamming it down to stomp through Blague’s high crossed block and land a metal heel into his head.
Blague feigned his fall, turning at the last second to sweep out Mulderan’s weighted foot. He darted back to his feet and caught his falling brother by the collar, head-butted his nose and sent an elbow as hard as concrete into his perfect cheek. It didn’t stop there - a pummeling of Cryos infused fists continued to find Mulderan’s face, until he was backed up against the entrance of the elevator.
Both brothers were winded, one with knuckles held up and the other clenching wounds that felt like they were dealt with a bat.
It seemed Blague had won the brotherly brawl, true, but Mulderan still had the upper hand despite the blow to his pride.
A shout of frustration summoned Rol to come rushing back and reform around him. And then a roar bellowed against his own persona, sending a chill through the air and clawing plasma outward.
Blague slid backward, arms crossed over his face as Rol worked to disintegrate his body, working to end his life. He felt his clothes tearing, his skin burning, melting away his Cryos shield. It was the same raw power that flew from Asura when his father had passed. The same strength that should have killed him on Auront. And now, it returned to finish the job.
“This is it. This is the end.”
Chapter 23
Eldra felt the spear of dark metal skewer her. Steel crunching against bone, the point bursting through her chest. It pushed against her ribcage… so cold, so foreign within her body as it lifted her off of her feet for all to see. She writhed in pain, kicking, tasting hot blood seep from her mouth.
The shock of it all was short-lived, though, because she was a different kind of animal than those gawking around her.
Her mind raced to accept her fate so those war-born instincts she possessed could again take over. She’d done it a thousand times in the face of danger, so why not now when facing certain death?
A crazed eye and bared bloody teeth may have made it look like this was the Ice Queen’
s final minute, but it wasn’t… not yet.
She clasped her hands around the pole and willed herself back down, using the leverage of her bones to fight the soldier’s strength. She was stronger. Fiercer. And with the might greater than her saboteur, she propelled herself back to the floor, spun to free the Hiezer of his weapon and lunged with an eagle’s reach to grasp his collar.
“Agh!” Eldra pulled him close and spat blood in his face, gripping the back of the pole sticking through her torso with one hand to steady it as she marched a step closer to stab the heart of her betrayer with the same edge.
It was only then, inches away from the guard, did she get a whiff that rewound her right back to the cycling chaos of Auront, where she’d witnessed the Aura’s powers firsthand. It was through this connection that she found exactly where her missteps lied. The Ice Queen tore off the guard’s mask with numb fingers and stared into his emotionless face. It was plagued with crimson that reeked with the foulness of the smoke.
“I know you’re in there, Mulderan.” Eldra’s crystal eye shined in her dying moments, bluer than the most vibrant sapphire. Her shivering iris stared deep into the possessed soldier that robbed her of her long life. “I was a queen meant to rule beside a righteous king. But you raised me upon a throne of lies. And now, you will fall.”
Her hand shook as her grip on the soldier loosened. With one fell swoop, she slit the Hiezer’s throat and cut the spear that stuck from her chest, severing whatever remaining connection she had left to her king. Now, she was free.
Biljin and the Hiezers surrounding him backed up in horror, unsure whether to help or run.
But she wasn’t interested in them. Not at all. She dropped her legendary sword to the floor, finding no more use for it. There was only one thing left for her to do. Just one.
Eldra turned to the faraway Gates of Eternity, her expression somehow fearless and focused. She fended off the blackness of death creeping into her vision, shooing it away with her hand like it was some fog in front of her.
Blood oozed from both sides of her body as she walked toward the nearest ledge. She pulled her rifle overhead, which made it all worse, further tearing her insides and dousing leather armor with more gore. With the vigor of a hundred war heroes flowing through her veins, she stared calmly into her scope.
Her targets were firing down on the world’s citizens - men and women that were once under her watch. In her final minute, she had to let them know that they were all wrong. Her shots were fired with deadly accuracy, finding the head of each victim. She fired again and again, until tears made her sight hazy, until her vision went dark, until she finally collapsed.
Mulderan summoned a rush of crimson plasma to crash into Blague. Potency of the blast climbed, making it appear as though the tail of a comet was endlessly rushing past him. Skin became scorched when Cryos failed and bones began to cave under the pressure of an imploding star. Cries of nightmarish spirits rang in his ears and fell away from the cliffs beside him. Whispers saying “You’re next,” and “Let go,” attempted to taunt and sway. Mulderan had conjured the same power that disintegrated his father, only this time, there was no one to protect the Sin.
Blague’s planted feet scraped backward across the stone bridge. Crossed arms trembled as they worked to protect his face. The shield of summoned Cryos around his body dissolved and re-forged in its futile attempts to withstand the thrusts of Rol. His white hair flew back like he was in a wind tunnel, making him feel that his scalp would soon be torn from his head. Compounding energy sent cracking sounds throughout his skull, and when the red waves of visible wind intensified, the entire enclosure shook loose to echo his pain. Scaled walls of rock behind him began to crumble, threatening the very foundation of Mulderan’s lair.
“The source, Blague. We have to cut him from that well of power. It’s our only chance. We can’t take much more… we can’t,” Elaina’s voice trembled.
He eyed the flaming geyser chained under the bridge. All of Rol’s recycling demonic energy spewing from there, filtering through his brother.
Then out of nowhere, the churn suddenly slowed. He heard a yack of dismay from Mulderan. What was happening? Did Rol turn on him?
The ringing in his ears and desperate thoughts calmed. A moment to breathe, until a bellow overwhelmed the lulling power. It was his brother’s voice again - a cry of agony so bizarre that it made Blague’s arm hair stand on end. He lifted his head to peek through his Cryos shield.
Mounds of loosened rocks were hurled into the depths of the earth from the rapid change in pressure, reflecting the dismay that his brother felt.
There, Mulderan’s head was buried into one of his hands while the other was still desperately clenched forward to wield Rol. He was trembling. Teeth clenched. The pain must’ve been excruciating. His wife’s parting gift traveled through its obscure channels of smoke to be delivered like a grenade exploding in his face. A final message. Perhaps the only one carrying some sort of emotional weight. And with a relationship otherwise devoid of it, the impact hit hard.
Whatever shred of human sentiment that was left in the arrogant lord overcame him, giving Blague the opening he needed. But Mulderan wasn’t one to dwell. He bounced back like a whip, disregarding the emotion and regaining his stature with a defiant frown.
It was good to see beads of sweat around his forehead, though… it meant he was still human, for whatever that was worth, and that fighting himself as well as his brother could actually be too much.
Mulderan’s vision cleared to reveal his brother barreling toward him.
Blague disregarded all poise now… he was desperate – leaning into his sprint in a frantic rush to close the gap, while Mulderan drew his stave once more to meet him in another showdown.
But the Ardian had something else in mind this time.
With Elaina’s strength, he whipped his arm, summoning a spiral of Cryos that corkscrewed around the bridge.
Mulderan eyed the blue matter without moving a muscle, raising his staff into ready position, ready to fend off whatever trick his brother would try. And Blague drew his blade in response, imbuing it with Cryos once more.
He shouted.
He leapt.
But the Highest Lord pulled back his attack and knitted his eyebrows in confusion, watching as Blague didn’t leap toward him. Instead, he watched as Blague flew off the bridge, catching the helix of blue matter to swing below the platform with his infused blade.
With one swipe, Blague effortlessly severed the chains that kept the Heart of Rol attached. Using the momentum of his swing, he flipped himself back up to the bridge, landing with a bang in front of the Highest Lord.
Mulderan stared down in fury, readying to end his brother once and for all. But he couldn’t. His body was frozen, as his connection with Rol was too cohesive. Paralysis set in. He could feel the pull of the geyser plummet down toward the center of the planet.
“Perhaps you are worthy to walk among us,” Mulderan said, jerking his shoulder.
“No more games, brother,” Blague proclaimed in a low, resolved voice. “No more tests of supremacy. You have become the most infamous mass murderer in history, but your secrets will die with you. There will be no glory in what you’ve done to this world. And now, your reign is through.”
Rol began to tear at Mulderan’s face like it was sunken quicksand. It clawed frantically, desperately to stay on the surface, scratching at his porcelain skin, making it look as though his face was melting like butter. Soon tendon and bone were revealed underneath, confirming once and for all with finality that this devil was, in fact, human.
“I am the executioner of Darwin’s philosophy. I am the strong hand of the great mind. My deeds will echo throughout eternity, whether you preach them or not. They will shine through the evolution of our species!” Mulderan grinned with the last of his form, his white molars showing between the breaches of his jawbone.
“You will answer to our father now. Stay buried, where you belong.�
� Blague turned his back, hearing Mulderan’s skeleton dissolve and crash over the stone, sprinkling the endless well with his remains.
The Sin Leader walked with a limp and a hunched head, feeling the rawness of his body being pushed to its brink. Emptiness quickly settled in the pit of his gut, experiencing everything but fulfillment in murdering his kin.
“Disturbed from birth, destined to be terrible,” Blague said to himself. “His mother saw it done. Mulderan became the embodiment of terror.”
A faint hum whistled through his head, as Elaina knew there were no words to comfort him in these moments. The inevitabilities of Blague’s actions had to settle with time, and nothing more.
He lifted his sorrowed eyes to the door at the end of the pathway when a chill of wind pricked the back of his neck, begging him to turn his head.
Orin’s cloudy, pupilless eyes met his own. The anomaly was wraithlike in form, covered in the gray clothes in which his son was most familiar. His stature was godly and his voice, thunderous.
“You have become so strong, my son,” Orin proclaimed with a proud smile, before fading away.
The scales of rock continued to fall, working to entomb the scientists deep below the earth and bury all evidence of Mulderan’s blueprint for destruction along with it. Through all of this insanity, Blague was finally able to take a deep breath, to take in this moment of fantastical harmony, historical terror, all of it, and internalize his father’s image one last time before turning away.
He did. But just as he was about to head out, something compelled him to turn back once more.
The ghostly mists fought to form one more shadow as the smoke depleted like a falling hourglass of sand. This one was stranger than the rest. Foreign and unknown. A woman, full grown, with features akin to both Blague and Elaina. What was the meaning of this madness? How could this be?