Kallen meant the world to her.
She does not feel the same. You are a toy-sidekick to discard when you are no longer needed.
“SHUT UP, YOU STUCK-UP BRAT!”
The battering against the door spiked. It knocked her off her feet. The door fell apart and the monstrous soldiers swarmed in. Emily scrabbled to her feet and threw whatever she could between herself and them.
“Boss! Hurry!”
In the courtyard, Ponix looked about the area to make sure he didn’t miss anyone. All twenty soldiers lay dead and broken on the ground. He was relieved that they were only animated armor instead of flesh and blood because Ataidar only had laws against killing the latter. He always thought this was odd because armor tended to live longer than flesh.
“I wonder how Alexander Maes Xing is doing…I haven’t seen him in a hundred years…Oops, business first.”
He faced the Order Obelisk, clasped his hands, and shifted them into a gigantic drill. It sparked with the power of chaos. The Obelisk responded with an oppressive spirit blast. Ponix stood his ground and glared.
“Your power don’t work on me, you giant pinhole. At three hundred years, I'm the best diplomat to come out of Avalon. I dismantled the ordercraft cult in Anich, isolated Latrot's slave economy, and singlehandedly provided the intel that collapsed Liclis' invasion of Acemo. I’m Ponix Enaz, and I will free every soul trapped within you!”
The drill spun into a blur of golden-brown. He jumped forward to strike down the obelisk in the name of Lady Chaos. Then a woman teleported between him and his target. Without a word or gesture, she blocked the chaotic drill. Ponix jumped back and swore.
“Language, ambassador. You speak to royalty.”
She wore a magnificent gown of silver-grey with purple highlights. Gold trimmed the edges and precious gems studded her bodice and skirts. A ribbon of lavender made a bow at her waist and around her neck was a silk choker studded with silver and sapphires. Her purple hair was arranged and adorned with a circlet. In its center, on her rings, her gloves, and her dress were symbols for Order. The Eye and its Pair of Hands were everywhere.
“Queen Hera, I am off-the-clock.” He gestured to his armor. “I’d prefer ‘Intelligence Officer’ right now. Unless, of course, you’d rather talk this out, but it’s never been in Order’s interest to talk unless it were an order. He hates compromise in favor of all or nothing such as this attempt here. In any case, you’d have to stand aside and allow me to remove that eyesore behind you that is preventing any legitimate attempt at civilized discourse in favor of heavy-handed and unilateral subjugation and—”
“Good Law!” a third voice said. “I’d forgotten how long-winded you are.”
JJ stepped forward, dragging a chain of monster corpses behind her. They were strung together through their limbs like disconnected handkerchiefs. She herself was uninjured. She dropped them and smashed her fists together.
“Ponix, I challenge you to a duel!”
“Now?! I’m busy with fate-of-the-country-and-future-world-prosperity business!”
“I didn’t say it was going to be a traditional duel. We can have that later.” She pointed to the queen. “First person to rip her head off wins.”
“That I can do.”
“That you cannot do,” Hera replied. “My title as queen makes me a powerful ordercrafter indeed. From the time the sun rises to the time the sun sets, I can stand here and take everything you common filth can dish out.”
JJ cocked a punch. “Those who are empowered by Order of the First Born are feeble before Lady Chaos the Matriarch …” Her spirit flared. “In her name, bow down!”
She punched with all her might directly into Hera’s face. The queen didn’t flinch. She raised a gloved hand to feign yawning. JJ frowned and tried again. Ponix reignited his drill and tried again as well. Neither of them could make her take one step back. The Obelisk remained safe and secure behind her. It charged a beam and fired. Neither delegate could escape it.
Meanwhile, in the cafeteria, Kasile avoided a new death every second.
A large foot drew back for a kick and she scrambled to get out of the way, stumbling in her heels and skirts. The foot missed her by an inch, but a shockwave sent her tumbling. While she struggled to get up, it stomped on her. She rolled away and became more tangled in her own finery in the process. The order dragon held its head above her and fired a composite breath weapon; the fire burned her body and her soul while attempting to sterilize her mind. Kasile’s screams echoed through the hallway.
“Give in to the safety of Order. Resistance is forlorn.”
Gown charred, jewelry and crown melted, hair burned and disheveled, dust and tears dirtying her face; Kasile no longer looked remotely royal. Her movements were stiff and pained. She felt lightheaded. Her right arm continued to bleed all this time and fighting for her life made it worse. By now, the glove on that arm was coated down to her fingertips. The Order Domination Field continued to wear on her spirit, draining of both strength and resistance. It whispered how her torment only had to last as long as she resisted. Despite all this, with royal effort, she maintained her regal bearing in defiance of the enforcer.
“Ataidar came into existence fighting oppressors like you and every time it is defeated it is reborn from its own ashes. It was given life by the fire goddess Fiol and I am its latest torch!”
She thrust her left hand forward and her fingers poked through the holes in her gloves.
“That fire rightfully belongs to my ancestor. That fire IS my ancestor. I am her…” She put a hand to her forehead as a wave of fatigue washed through her.
“Mortal flesh, you are not fire. You are ashes. You are dust.”
The order dragon swiped at her with its front claws. Kasile jumped backwards and stepped on her hem when she landed. It ripped and she grabbed the tear to keep her skirts in place. The dragon swiped three times more and she clumsily dodged. Blood loss was making her faint. When the claws came down for the fifth time, they struck the ground around her. With ten claws evenly spaced, they resembled prison bars.
“The princess has been imprisoned. Now she will call for her heroes to save her. Culmus Stratos, Siron Esrah, Eric Watley; one of them will surely come to her rescue.
The taunt shamed her more than she was willing to admit. It reminded her of the Black Cloak kidnapping where they put themselves at risk for her. It also reminded her that she escaped on her own. Generating mana claws, she pulled two bars apart enough to squeeze past. The motion cut her gown further. While she was free, she was bleeding more than ever. Blood was her connection to Sacred Fire, and her connection to it was weakening with her body.
“You expected this… to happen.”
“This is a veteran. Mortal flesh cannot defeat it. Kneeling before Order is your only option.”
Kasile searched the room for the chiem. If it could eat her Sacred Fire, then the only way to harm it was with chaos. There! The dagger was near the kitchen, next to a broken chair. Hiking up her skirts, she ran. The dragon’s claws cracked the floor behind her. It barely missed her with each strike. At last, she jumped forward and slid to the dagger. She touched it at the same time as a salamander made of black fire did. It simpered and pulled the dagger away from her.
“No!”
It returned to the order dragon, which breathed on it to enshroud it in an orderly bubble. Then the golem ate the dagger. Kasile watched it sink down through its neck and settle in its stomach, far out of her reach.
Then more salamanders emerged from the dragon’s scales. Her salamanders, the ones she summoned. Now they were made of black infernal fire instead of her own holy flames. As one flock, they descended upon her like vultures.
“A mortal girl dressing as a divine queen is dishonest. This will not allow such a farce to continue.”
She grabbed one and willed it back to pure white fire. It bit her fingers and rejoined the others. They ripped off her remaining jewels and threw them away. They tore at her d
amaged clothing until she was naked. Her summit outfit, chosen and fitted by her ladies in waiting, was in shreds on the floor. Once again, the order dragon placed her in its claw cage.
“No gown, no jewels, no followers, and her supposedly divine fire wielded by another. Who will call her ‘queen’ now?”
Kasile urged herself to think, to plan, but her consciousness was fading. She chuckled to herself thinking, Maybe the Fire Sage will tell me that unconscious is the same thing as consciousness or that Order is the same as…Chaos.
She looked into one of the claws and saw herself as a naked, burned, and bleeding girl. She had brown hair with red streaks and golden eyes. She’d always thought that was odd; if her red streaks were caused by the Sacred Fire bloodline, then why wouldn’t her eyes be the same color? No natural fire could ever be gold. It could only be yellow. Gold was always reserved for Chaos and those touched by it. A second revelation struck her and she now knew how to win.
“Fire cooks meat to make it easier to digest but also into inedible ashes. It forms metal into any desired shape to serve any purpose. At once, it represents the passion to reach greater heights and the recklessness to endanger the legacy of generations past. By burning, it both destroys life and instills the potential for new life. It is no coincidence that the first spell Tasio taught humans was Fire Ball.”
“What is your point?”
“My eyes are gold to remind me of this truth: Fire is the closest earthly element to Chaos. Fire is Chaos. White Sacred Fire and black Infernal Fire are the same thing because they are both chaotic fire and chaos encompasses contradictions. My point is as follows: Salamanders! Release me from this cage!”
Every single one of them stopped what they were doing to merge over the dragon claw. As a single giant black salamander, they lifted the claw, and Kasile walked out. The giant salamander dispersed into many smaller ones and they arrayed themselves around her. Her right arm had lost too much blood to work anymore, so she raised her left. Because she was queen, it didn’t matter which she used to command. She beckoned and all the Sacred Fire inside the dragon golem streamed off it and to her hand.
“You could only take this from me because I allowed you to. I lacked confidence in myself and ruled in willful ignorance instead of deliberate wisdom. I leaned on others for these reasons. You exploited my mortal weakness, but my divine strength is unassailable.”
The recovered Sacred Fire engulfed her and shifted to suit her desire. It became blood that empowered her, making her eyes and skin glow. It became a new bodice with the pure white of the hottest fire, skirts whose hems licked the ground like flames, new gloves with fingers like a tiger’s claws, and earrings resembling stars. No longer royal, Kasile dressed in divine splendor.
“I am mortal flesh, and right now, my soul is mundane as well. But I can improve. Unlike you, I can become greater than I am today. That is the promise of Chaos.”
She summoned more white salamanders and more black salamanders, and then she commanded them to wrap around each other. They formed a double helix and merged as one. Now two-headed salamanders waited in attendance. She gave the order and they soared like missiles.
The order dragon howled in pain as each one impacted. Although not genuine chaos, their nature was chaotic and hurt it all the same. At the end of the barrage, it was laid low, but the queen wasn’t done yet.
Two crests burned through the back of her hands. On the left was an empty throne flanked by a salamander on the left, a dragon on the right with a phoenix sitting on top. On the right, a crowned tiger sat under a sun. The first replicated itself in the air behind her, giving the illusion that she occupied the throne.
“I am the Torch of Fiol. I carry her flames in my flesh and her will in my mind. Against the wind and rain, I shine her light upon her subjects. Even if my Royal Trial will never end, I will continue burning in her name. So as I pray…”
The divine crest drew itself above, to the south and east of the dragon golem while the royal crest drew itself beneath and to the north and west. The creatures depicted in all six images opened their maws to charge fire breath.
“Incandescent Judgment!”
Streams of fire from twelve sources in six directions converged on the dragon golem. Passing through it, they fed into the opposite crest and circled back to scorch it again. This cycle repeated once for every crest and then detonated like a volcanic eruption. There was nothing left within the area of effect but ash and an enforcer. The spirit of law looked like fog burned away by the morning sun.
“Cast in the name of thy god; ye not guilty.”
In the Hall of Avatars, Siron and Lunas clashed again and again and it was always Siron who was on the offensive. He slashed and thrust with such skill and speed that Lunas didn’t bother attacking back. He hid behind his shield and blocked everything. An untrained eye would think he was losing, but the combatants knew better.
Lunas’ shield was an absolute defense. Even when Siron successfully feinted his way past it, somehow, the shield blocked him anyway. The prince threw in random deflections to knock him off balance and then took advantage of these moments to full body bash him with the shield’s girth. Each impact rattled the duke in body and spirit. Now he was bruised while Lunas remained unblemished. However, he was not without advantages.
He was the prince’s better when it came to the sword. Order’s power could not increase Lunas’ skill with either weapon and so only his speed and strength were amplified. In contrast, Esrah bordered the land of foxes and tricksters, favoring skill above all. It was simple for Siron to parry the prince’s counterattacks. Even his augmented speed and strength provided only an increased challenge. The principle was the same and so the prince’s sword did not touch him. At the same time, Lunas’ sword hand was the only part of him that bled.
Order’s Domination Field would prevent both of them from tiring. It was a stalemate.
“I heard about your father’s attempted coup,” Lunas said casually. “They say it was supposed to make you a hero, specifically Kasile’s hero.”
“Queen Kasile,” Siron said. “You will address your host respectfully by—”
“You know, that’s your problem. You’ll never have your own lady because you don’t understand women. They don’t want a knight in shining armor; they want a lord.”
Siron launched a flurry of precise sword strikes, but Lunas nonchalantly blocked every one and knocked him clean off his feet. Lunas dived with his sword, but Siron kicked it away with his greaves. Then he fired a mana bolt that forced Lunas to hide behind his shield.
“Every woman wants a big strong man in her life,” Lunas continued. “Someone to comfort her and provide for her and protect her, but most important, to control her.”
He manipulated the Domination Field to show Siron how he collared Kasile and made her into a docile lamb. Siron ignored them and attacked with renewed intensity. Lunas gave up offense entirely and simply blocked all his strikes.
“Then she doesn’t have to worry about anything and can simply enjoy life. Women are like pet dogs that way; fed and petted, and all they have to do is obey.”
Siron’s sword glowed and he stabbed the ground, channeling that energy into a shockwave. Lunas prepared to block it when it split into five beams and struck him from five directions. He blocked three, but two of them slipped past his guard. They didn’t cut him, but he felt the impact nonetheless.
“My queen is not a dog.”
“That’s because she whipped you into her dog. If your father is anything like yourself, then it is no wonder that the two of you were so easy to brainwash.”
Siron paused mid-strike. “Wh-what did you just say?”
Lunas smirked.
Blue light flared from Siron as he triggered Videlicet Mens. The floor cracked under his footsteps and the air vibrated with his swings. Yet still, Lunas deflected him. All of Siron’s power washed over him like waves over a rock.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?”
“I said ‘weak willed people are easy to control.’”
He slashed and stabbed Siron, but none of them connected. He wasn’t trying. He knew Siron would either evade them, parry them, or allow his excellent Esrah armor to deflect them. The prince’s true attack continued unabated.
“You for one, and your father for another. Teenagers are already so melodramatic that it was basic ordercraft to expand the sorrow of heartbreak into deadly despair. Some do it without our help. Then, once you tried, exploiting your father’s parental instinct was even easier. Deep down in his heart, he believed Ataidar could have no better king than yourself.”
Siron paused and his aura dimmed.
“He did?”
Lunas nodded and said with a face of utmost sincerity, “Yes, your father believed in your strength, integrity, and devotion to this country.” The sincerity melted into a sneer. “That’s what made him such a willing patsy. All I had to do was give him a little push and he was willing to betray everything he ever stood for.”
Siron’s aura surged as he invoked Videlicet Mens a second time. He generated a second blade in his left hand, composed of mana, and doubled his offensive against Lunas. The prince retreated until he stumbled over a rug and Siron plunged with both blades. The shield again stopped his attack, but Lunas felt the blow in his spirit for the first time in the battle. He stuck one hand beyond his shield and fired a series of mana bolts into Siron’s face. It didn’t hurt Siron, but it gave him a chance to stand up.
“Your queen is another such weakling. Eric Watley didn’t need ordercraft to make her submit to him. What do you think they do when they’re behind closed doors late at night and all alone? He comforts her intimately.”
Siron shouted and his aura expanded four times his size. His next attack was not a simple lunge but a cannon ball from its barrel. He was propelled forward by the strength of his spirit and the intensity of his rage. His sword pierced Lunas’ shield, struck him square in the chest, and pinned him to a wall. Lunas hung limply, his eyes closed and chest still. Siron’s aura faded and he slumped, taking deep and gasping breaths while his body sweated profusely to cool itself. Then Lunas’ empty hand shot out and grabbed his forehead.
Mana Mutation Menace (Journey to Chaos Book 3) Page 28