Celacia smirked. “Love? We hardly know each other.” chirped Celacia as she stood with her back to the giant skull, her black form silhouetted against the fiery glow from the thing’s mouth. “And a trip to Sanctuary seems awfully long for a first date.”
“Cut the crap, woman,” said Ramiel quite firmly. “You’ve had your fun. Time to come along now.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” said Celacia. She strode forward and all the Dimethican knights drew up their weapons. The kneeling line with bolt-throwers all began to take aim. Isley cast Nuriel a knowing look and she cringed, knowing full well what was coming. She and Isley both shined their Calibers.
“I’ve already told you,” said Celacia. “I’m a foe quite beyond you and this entire army.”
No sooner had the first bolt-thrower roared to life than a powerful wave of purple-black energy exploded forth from Celacia. It seemed to rock the very foundations of the mountain and the walls and floors cracked as the stone was swept over. Like dominoes the Dimethican knights fell, their screams cut short as their weapons and armor corroded and disintegrated into puffs of rust, leaving their withered forms frozen in their deathly, mummified rigor. Neither Nuriel nor Isley were spared from the deathly wave, and despite the bright glow of their Caliber energy, they both felt the terrible pain wash over them.
Nuriel gasped and released a small cry as she cringed against the agony of death. She saw her star-metal armor haze over, as if a hot breath had passed over it. Her white leather bodysuit tightened around her as it withered and cracked ever so slightly. Against clenched eyes she managed to catch a glimpse of Ramiel. He had been brought to his knees against the deathly wave. Like Nuriel and Isley, he was protected by his Caliber energy, but having been unprepared, suffered far more.
Against the far wall Celacia’s own soldiers stood with their backs pressed tightly against the stone, but none of them had been affected. Celacia had only sent her deadly energy forward, and from Ramiel’s feet to as far back as Nuriel could see down the tunnel, was a sea of rusty armor laying motionless upon the ground.
Ramiel got back to his feet, struggling for just a moment, and shook his head to clear it. Celacia strode forward and stopped just short of Ramiel. His flesh seemed a little pale, and his eyes were now wide with an uncharacteristic fear in them, but otherwise he was unscathed.
“You still up for that date?” asked Celacia, smirking at him.
Ramiel scowled, his lip furling. “You’re no Saint. What are you?” he demanded.
Celacia sighed. “It’s a really long story, and to be honest I don’t remember all the details.” Celacia looked around at the sea of dead knights, their faces withered and pale, all of them ghastly mummies clothed in rust. “You’ve got some cleaning up to do.”
Ramiel eyed Celacia with all the fire his soul had to offer and spat upon the ground.
“Yuck!” yelled Celacia in disgust. “You really need to be taught some manners, you know that?”
Ramiel flourished his warhammer. He adjusted his stance so that his heavily armored side faced Celacia.
“Well,” chirped Celacia. “I guess I did promise you a go at me if you beat Nuriel and Isley. Here’s your chance.”
Ramiel looked upon her with contempt, his eyes shifting from her face to her pale hands.
Celacia giggled. “Oh, I don’t usually carry my weapon. It just wouldn’t be fair. Feel free to attack me any time. I’m not quite sure what you think you’re going to do to me with that warhammer though.”
Ramiel roared as he lunged forward with blinding speed, his warhammer a blur as it came down in a heavy arc. In an instant Celacia had her left arm up, catching the crook of the hammer upon her forearm. The star-metal hammer clashed upon Celacia’s armor with tremendous force and the entire mountain seemed to shudder from the impact. Ramiel kept the hammer locked upon Celacia’s arm for a moment. He pushed forward, and Celacia slid back on the dead earth beneath her feet.
Celacia’s emerald eyes beamed at Ramiel. “Is that it?” she asked.
Ramiel looked upon Celacia with a fierce scowl and spat to the side. He flourished his hammer.
“That is so disgusting,” said Celacia. The ground around her began to gray as desiccated dirt and rock spread out in crawling fingers in all directions. Even the air around Celacia seemed to somehow die, as if there was a very staleness to the atmosphere around her.
Ramiel looked down at the dying earth beneath his feet. His glassy-black star-metal boots seemed to take on some sort of haze, as if a warm breath passed over them. He shined his Caliber and a distinct golden aura encompassed him, washing away any trace of that deathly breath. He huffed at Celacia, then turned his head and spat.
Ramiel barely had time to react before the dead earth between him and Celacia cracked and split. Ramiel cried out, his back arching as he was wracked with a sudden and terrible pain. He grit his teeth as he fell to a knee, flaring his Caliber as brightly as he could against the deathly aura that now consumed him.
Nuriel gasped in horror, and felt the hand of Isley gently slip into her own behind her back. Ramiel’s face seemed to change in waves as he shined his Caliber to fight off the effects of Celacia’s terrible aura. In one moment his face was normal, the next a deathly, pale, mummified skull. His appearance rippled and changed, but it was clear to Nuriel that the reflection of death was the one winning out.
Ramiel growled as he placed both hands upon the ground, his muscles tensing in what Nuriel could only think was some hideous rigor of death. He looked up, helpless against the pain, as Celacia casually walked up to him and knelt.
“The next time you spit,” she whispered in his ear. “I might lose my temper and then who knows what might happen to you.”
Ramiel’s head bowed against the pain, her very breath seemed to suck the life from him, turning his ear a sickly purple. Nuriel could see pieces of his leather bodysuit peeling off in decayed strips, beneath which pale, deathly skin now shone. His gauntleted hands clutched at the dying earth beneath him, crumbling through his fingers. He roared out, flaring his Caliber as brightly as he could, and in that second Nuriel saw his flesh and reflection nearly repaired, but he could not sustain it and again the deathly waves rippled through his appearance.
Nuriel suddenly wanted to help him, to end the suffering he surely felt. He could have easily killed her, but instead chose to incapacitate her. Somehow she felt he deserved more than to be toyed with; to either be free from Celacia’s deadly presence or to have his life ended without so much suffering. She struggled to her feet the best she could with her hands bound behind her, and Isley followed suit.
Celacia stepped back and life seemed to wash into Ramiel. He struggled to his feet with a tremendous roar of anger and frustration as his Caliber shined a blinding white. His chest was heaving and his one whole eye pierced Celacia with unimaginable hatred, his Caliber now settling down to a more subtle glow. Nuriel could see that his body was whole and undamaged, but his bodysuit was nothing but decayed strips of peeling, brown leather. His hair and eyes which were once as radiant as polished topaz now seemed dull and lifeless; his flesh was pale and the scruff upon his face was touched with gray and white hair. His Star-Armor was unscathed, for that alone was impervious to death.
He roared out in anger again. Celacia just stood there, smiling at him; mocking him. He bared his teeth and roared out once more. He flung himself forward, his hammer swinging in fluid circles. Celacia quickly moved, ducking each blow in turn as the tremendous force of each impact upon the ground sent shockwaves through the mountain. But she was quick—far quicker than Ramiel—and as he brought his hammer upwards for another strike Celacia swung her left arm out, slicing his face open with the black, metallic fin on her forearm.
As Ramiel stumbled back Celacia spun her body around, delivering a swift kick right to his chest. It sent him flying backwards into the side of the mountain where he crashed with such force that his star-metal breastplate dug deep into the stone
and he was held there, imprinted into the very side of the volcano.
It took Ramiel a second to register what had happened. With a grunt he peeled himself from the stone wall and fell to the ground on his knees, loose rubble raining down and bouncing off his armor, blood from his cut face falling in heavy drops upon the ground. He stumbled back to his feet and stood. He shook his head and wiped a gauntleted hand across his face and flung the blood to the ground. He looked at Celacia and scowled, his chest heaving.
“Don’t be too upset with yourself,” chirped Celacia as she walked up to him. “I mean, there is a reason I don’t even bother carrying a weapon. It just wouldn’t be fair.”
Ramiel grit his teeth and presented his heavily armored left side again. He flourished his warhammer. This time it was Celacia who moved in fast. She swung a couple punches, presenting the deadly-sharp fins of her armored forearms. Ramiel dodged each in turn and countered with a quick swing of his hammer. Like lightning Celacia ducked the blow, spinning on one leg and bringing the other around, delivering a powerful kick right to Ramiel’s hand that sent the hammer spinning away. It impacted the earth like a small bomb, throwing up dirt and stone as it slid.
Celacia pushed forward with more slicing punches. Ramiel was able to avoid the first few but eventually one caught him across the left cheek, tearing another huge gash of flesh from his face. He stumbled and Celacia moved in close, hugging him to her body. Immediately Ramiel’s appearance was that deathly reflection and his back arched and he screamed out. Celacia brought her knee up, the spiked end finding the unarmored side of his right thigh. When she tore her knee away blood rushed out of Ramiel’s thigh in a steady flow, pouring down his leg and onto the ground. Wherever the blood touched Celacia’s armor it decayed into dust.
Nuriel looked on in horror as Ramiel fell to the ground at Celacia’s feet, a quickly spreading pool of blood beneath him. Celacia moved forward, the bloody pool drying and decaying around her feet. She grabbed him by the collar of his breastplate and the skin at the nape of his neck yellowed and began to crack like dead flesh. She dragged him behind her as she walked toward the glowing maw of the dragon skull, leaving an horrific trail of blood and dead earth in her wake.
“Come on guys,” chirped Celacia. “Time for your demonstration.”
Nuriel looked up at Isley who returned a grimace. “Come, Nuriel,” he said.
She and Isley strode up to the skull as the Jerusan soldiers gathered around as well, making sure to keep extra distance from Celacia. Nuriel looked upon Ramiel’s pale, nearly lifeless face, wondering why he was still clinging to life and if he really thought he might break free from death’s very clutches. Nuriel found herself dreading what Celacia’s demonstration might be, and found herself hating Ramiel for not just letting go and dying already.
Within the gaping maw of the dragon skull a lake of bubbling magma sat, waves of heat radiating from it and blowing at Celacia’s long, black hair. With a grunt she whipped Ramiel around to her front and he moaned again but didn’t move. No more blood escaped his wounds, and Nuriel could feel his Caliber fading fast as he lay propped up against one of the enormous fangs jutting up from the jaw.
“You Saints are so heavy in that armor of yours,” said Celacia, almost panting. She rested her hands on her knees. “It’s a wonder to me how you Saints can wear that stuff night and day.”
The remark didn’t seem to make sense to Nuriel. Wasn’t Celacia’s armor made of star-metal?
Celacia stood back up and looked at Nuriel and Isley, seemingly puzzled that they were still bound.
“Runic binds,” said Isley. “An invention of the Jinn.”
Celacia screwed her lips up and turned Isley around. Around his wrists were steel shackles, ordinary and unremarkable but for the glowing blue runes that lined them. “Interesting,” she said. She casually placed a hand upon the shackles and within a moment they rusted to dust and Isley was free. She did the same service for Nuriel. Celacia then turned her attention back to Ramiel who lay limply against the enormous fang, breathing his last.
“Just kill him,” said Nuriel, rubbing her numb wrists. The energy of the runic binds was slightly painful, like a constant, vibrating buzz. Nuriel had heard about them back at Sanctuary. They were one of the only things that a Saint could not break free from. “You at least owe him a quick death.”
Celacia grimaced but before she could act Ramiel’s chest heaved and Nuriel could feel the last of his Caliber fade out. The next moment Ramiel’s body cracked as if some unseen force was crushing him. Nuriel’s hand went to her mouth and she gasped. Ramiel’s body crumpled horrifically and was consumed into his breastplate.
Nuriel had heard about the way Star-Armor consumes its wearer upon death. It was quite the grotesque sight and Nuriel thought that it was not at all an appealing way to go. It was also the same fate should their Sanguinastrum ever be broken; if ever they were recalled. All that remained of Ramiel’s existence was his armor, laying there in pieces. Not even a bone to bury. Under normal circumstances the armor would be returned to Sanctuary so that it could be given to a new Saint. Somehow, Nuriel knew this armor would never again see another Saint.
“That’s kind of gross,” chirped Celacia. She bent down and grabbed the empty breastplate and immediately strained. “Unholy minions of Apollyon!” she groaned, struggling for a moment to lift it. “Aeoria on a broomstick!” she looked at Nuriel, red in the face as she struggled to hold the thing at her waist. “How is it possible these are even heavier without a Saint in it!” Celacia cursed and then dropped the breastplate. It landed with an incredibly loud thud that cracked the very stone beneath it.
Celacia bent down and picked up the much lighter gauntlet but even that weighed like a boulder in her hand. “Star-Armor,” she mused, holding the glassy-black metal in her hand. “I don’t really remember this stuff.”
“Once the Saint whose Caliber is bound to the armor is no more, the armor becomes much heavier.” said Isley. “It takes new Saints a few days to adjust to the armor, and some have even been consumed by it while trying to adjust.” Then Isley said more cautiously, “Is your armor not star-metal?”
Celacia laughed. “This old thing? Oh no. You Saints can have your Star-Armor, it’s far too heavy for me. It took all I had just to drag him all the way over here after that fight. And truth be told, blocking those blows from that hammer of his kind of hurt.”
Nuriel was puzzled by this revelation, and she could see that Isley was too. If Celacia wasn’t wearing Star-Armor, then what was it? It certainly wasn’t steel. Nuriel had known the first time she saw Celacia that there was something different about her armor, that it was more opaque than the glassy, blackness of star-metal, but she had decided that it was probably due to her deathly aura playing upon it. Still, if it wasn’t star-metal, it was certainly just as strong. She had seen Celacia block Ramiel’s hammer with her bracers. Nothing was stronger or heavier than star-metal—at least, nothing that anybody knew about. Had Celacia’s armor been made of anything less than star-metal it would have shattered. Most mortals couldn’t even lift star-metal, so the fact that Celacia could withstand attacks from a Saint in Star-Armor, and drag him all the way here meant that she had to be a Saint…or possibly, something just as powerful.
It was at that moment, as Celacia stood there holding Ramiel’s empty gauntlet, that Nuriel noticed there was a crease in the side of Celacia’s breastplate, and small buckles made of the same material as the armor. Nuriel almost gasped. “You…you can take yours off?” she asked.
Celacia cast Nuriel a curious, blank-faced stare and then looked down at her breastplate. “Oh, my armor? Of course silly.” Celacia said. “I forget you newfangled Saints can’t take your breastplates off. Hmm, I can’t seem to remember why that is?” Celacia tapped her lips with a finger. She sighed. “There’s so much I’ve forgotten over the centuries.” She turned around and shook an accusing finger at Isley and Nuriel. “See, this is exactly why you Saints should have
been protecting history.” She laughed again and looked up at the skull and then sighed. “I hate to waste star-metal, but I suppose we do need a demonstration.”
“Does the skull still possess the powers of fire?” asked Isley.
Celacia turned around and smiled, her green eyes sparkling frightfully in the glow of magma. “It’s better than that. Felvurn was the Dragon King of Fire. His breath was the very fire of the sun. It could vaporize water, incinerate wood and flesh and he could melt stone and steel.” Celacia looked up at the enormous fangs of the skull looming high overhead. Then she looked back to Nuriel and Isley with a curious grin on her face. “He once even got so mad that he vaporized a star. And, being that this is star-metal…” Celacia took a deep breath and with a grunt and a heave, tossed the gauntlet into the skull’s gaping maw.
The star-metal gauntlet landed with a heavy splash in the molten pool where it seemed to float for a second. Nuriel gasped as the black armor began to show veins of fiery red, as if the metal was cracking. Another moment and those veins had spread until the entire thing was pulsing with reds, oranges and whites before unceremoniously melting down into sludge and mingling with the bubbling, molten earth around it.
“You see,” said Celacia. “There is nothing that old Felvurn here cannot melt. Well, except for this stuff.” She clacked her arms together. Nuriel became aware that it did not have the same metallic clang as star-metal. Celacia looked at Nuriel and Isley and giggled. “This stuff came from my master, and his dominion outranks fire.”
“What…what is it?” Nuriel couldn’t help herself. She reached out and touched Celacia’s armor. Her finger glowed white with Caliber energy but even still she saw her fingernail yellow and crack as she touched Celacia’s arm.
Celacia’s armor wasn’t cold. It did not feel glassy or metallic. It felt slick and thin and light. Nuriel’s whole hand began to throb now. She felt as if her very bones were withering. Still, she could not help herself. With her entire palm she stroked Celacia’s arm, marveling at how slick and incredibly light it felt.
The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 9