“Curious is the hand of fate. I used to be an apothecary, and quite well-renowned at that, but everything changed after I pledged my allegiance to Xeros. From my service, I learned a singular truth: There are some people in this world not worth saving. I worked all my life to improve the health of others, and yet, I saw only apathy in their eyes—a disgusting indifference towards the efforts of those who work tirelessly to soothe their vigor. If they are to squander the gift that is life, then they do not deserve to partake in its splendor.”

Nokron, Commander of Nox Caelum

———

Sarathiel

With a wide cleave of his axe, a horde of legionnaires are sent flying through the air—bisected and dispatched with brutal fashion. The masked man who caused this mess is nowhere to be seen, but Sarathiel has no time to ruminate over his disappearance; the Nox lunge at him with crazed fervor, their minds consumed by the drug, and leave no opportunity for hesitation.

“Damnit, there’s no end to them!” Sarathiel roars, his axed stained with blood and oil. “Lorelai, I think I may need Deborah’s help after all. I’m not making any progress here.”

“Understood, Deborah is nocking a great-arrow right now,” Lorelai reports. “What about Nokron? Do you see him?”

“No, but he’s definitely lurking somewhere. He just…materialized in front of me and somehow sent me all the way back here. If I go near the gate again, he’ll probably do the same thing.”

“At the very least, you shall be prepared when the moment comes. Try to lure him out into the open again. His power cannot be endless, and he will be spread thin defending three points once Cain and Abel assault the sides.”

“Got it. How long ‘til Deborah’s ready?”

“Shooting Star will be charged in five minutes. Will you be able to hold your ground until then?”

“Of course. They won’t even be able to land a scratch on me.”

Chains suddenly shoot out from amidst the endless swarm and wrap around Sarathiel’s limbs. Caelum Ensnarers step out into view—large-barreled launchers in hand—and encircle him from a distance.

The Nox are known for employing strange weaponry, but these chain-guns are a new appearance—no doubt developed to shackle the Seraph and their flight.

But they chose the absolute worst enemy for the invention’s debut.

They attempt to bind the steel titan in place, but it is no use; Sarathiel does not budge. The act only fuels his rage.

“You damn pests!” he bellows. “It’ll take much more than this to slow me down!”

The enraged titan grabs hold of the chains and swings it wildly around him, sending the Ensnarers on the other end crashing straight through the other soldiers. They turn into living weapons, bodies splintered in a mess of metal, until naught remains of their visage but pierced flesh and exposed guts.

Yet, despite the macabre sight, the Nox show no sign of relenting. On the contrary, their cries become more crazed as their kin join the growing mound of mangled bodies. They would rather face death, disgraced and forgotten in this desolate field, than what awaits them if they return.

But their charge is interrupted when a large wave of aura suddenly washes over them—paralyzing the legionnaires in place. Pressure exudes upon them from above, and as they look up towards the sky, they bear witness to a shining star raining down from the heavens. It radiates a lustrous pink, soaring ever so gracefully through the air.

And it’s heading directly towards them.

“Shooting Star will descend shortly. I recommend you take cover Sarathiel,” Lorelai alerts.

“That’s a lot bigger than I thought it’d be,” he mumbles. “I, uh, don’t think I can avoid that.”

“You’ll survive.”

“…Damnit.”

Three.

The land becomes enveloped by the celestial arrow’s light as it falls closer and closer to the star-struck masses hypnotized by its radiance. The fortress attempts to destroy the attack mid-air, but its efforts are in vain. Impact is inevitable.

Two.

Some of the soldiers manage to break free from their daze and look around for any means of escape, but there is none. They cannot outrun it. They cannot hide from it. All they can do is brace themselves and wish for a quick end.

One.

Sarathiel covers himself in the sturdiest metals he can muster and forms a hyper-condensed barrier of aura around his body—every fiber of his being focused on defense. Even though being sturdy is his speciality, a singular look is all it takes to let him know that the collision is going to be devastating.

As he bunkers down, the titan notices the masked figure materializing once again in the distance and looking up at the descending star.

“Hmm,” the Nox commander mutters to himself. “How vicious. Even I cannot reverse such tightly-wound aura, not without great cost at the very least. A shame, but if more need be sacrificed, then so be it.”

The still-lucid soldiers look at their leader with budding hope, only to be consumed with despair upon his disappearance. They close their eyes and wait with hushed breaths as a final flash of color consumes them.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Zero.

With a resounding crash, the earth around them is upheaved as the Shooting Star pierces the world. Bodies are flung; the land is ripped asunder; and the entire battlefield is bathed in a sparkling pink hue—the explosion rippling through the air.

The fortress covers itself with a defensive barrier—shielding the inside from the worst of the impact—but the same cannot be said about the souls outside of the bastion. Shredded carcasses and fragmented exoskeletons litter the now-desolated field. The world is painted crimson as a rain of blood sprinkles the ground below—bodies still crashing down from the sky above.

Only a singular warrior remains, drenched in sweat and gasping from exhaustion while doubled over in the crater left behind by Deborah’s attack.

“How is your condition?” Lorelai asks as Sarathiel struggles to stand back up.

“I-I’m alive,” he croaks. “Barely.”

“And the Nox?”

“All gone. She really didn’t hold back, huh?”

“I did tell her that you simply needed some supporting fire, but she became a bit overzealous. The attack drained a large portion of her aura so it will take some time before she can launch a barrage of similar magnitude.”

“It’s alright. The only one left is the specter anyway.”

A jagged spike suddenly attempts to pierce him from behind, but the steel titan manages to deflect the blow at the last second. He’s still exhausted, but the battlefield is no place to let one’s guard down.

The Nox commander tilts his head curiously at the display and looks at Sarathiel as if he’s an exotic animal.

“Oh? Quite the agile one are you?” Nokron murmurs. “A surprise to be sure given your moniker, but I suppose the fault is mine for reaching such conclusions.”

“Already know about me huh?” Sarathiel growls as he readies his battle-axe.

“A bit. You go by many names: The crazed berserker; the savage beast; the steel-clad titan. Powerful titles, those are. They exude strength.”

“…And where are you going with this?”

“Simple. I know the truth. I know what you did to become a Throne four years ago. You had a very different name back then. Just what was it? Ah yes, ‘monster’ ”

“You…you vile bastard.”

“My position is more flexible compared to the other commanders. I see much; I hear much. Because of that boon, I know full well that you cannot afford to shed your humanity here. You are chained.”

“Chained or not, I’ll be able to snap a scrawny little twig like you in half no matter what your power may be.”

“Ah, your arrogance is…refreshing in a way. To face one such as you, a simple-minded brute, is truly a welcome change from the wellsprings of failures that have plagued me so lately.”

“Well you better get used to it because you’ll be dealing with this ‘simple-minded brute’ for a long time. I won’t fall easily.”

“Is that so? Unfortunately for you, I have all the time in the world. I already know of your scheme, attempting to stall for time as your kinsmen flank the sides, but you are sorely mistaken if you believe they are safe just because they managed to bypass the artillery zone. Unless you’ve brought the entirety of the Polus military, this fortress shall never be sieged.”

“Really now? Then I suppose we’ve already won.”

“…What?”

Sarathiel suddenly lunges at the Nox commander and attempts to cleave him in twain, but Nokron swiftly evades to the side and stares at the titan with bafflement.

“Y-you couldn’t possibly have?” he stutters. “No, that is just illogical. Impossible. It beggars all belief. But then, the one who blocked the Elysian Ray is…Ascalon? There’s no other explanation—even the King himself has joined the assault.

“What madness has overcome your ilk? Are you truly risking the entirety of your kingdom on this invasion? Has Lorelai’s death driven you all to insanity?

“Our minds are clear more than ever before!” Sarathiel roars as he continues his assault. “We’re tired of cowering before your leader’s wretched ambition. We’ve spent years on the defensive—It’s time Xeros experiences what it’s like to be on the other side. And we’re starting with you.”

“What…what will you accomplish from this? All I need is a single messenger sent to the capital to have your fantasies of conquest crushed before me. Even if The Magnus Murus were to fall, you would never be able to reach Xeros.”

“You can try, but no one is leaving this fortress alive. It’s already too late for you.”

“Do you really think that I am trapped here with you? I can return at any-”

Realization dawns on Nokron’s face. A wave of gloom invades the deepest pits of his core. This entire time, he has been focused on the army in front of him. Arrogant; conceited; he believed Polus to be dim-witted without Lorelai’s guidance, but this hubris has blinded him, and now only a single question remains—one that he suspects to already know the answer of.

“Where are the Seraph?”

“You claim to be an intelligent man. Where do you think?”

“…I see. Heh. Haha. It all makes sense now. So this is what the Stars tried to warn me of. Like a fool I was ignorant of their cries, but this place will not be my resting ground. I can solve this. I can reverse this just as I always have. I-I just need more time.”

“ ‘Fraid you won’t have the chance. Face it Nokron—your time has come to an end. There’s no escape.”

“What would you know about time!? Nothing, you know nothing. You are oblivious. Time is a sacred constant beholden only to those enlightened by its divine perpetuity. You are merely a lingering parasite attached onto its celestial ebb and flow.

“But I am different; I am chosen by it. Loved by it. Cherished by it. I am its avatar, and I alone have the power to bend it under my will.

“No, time has not run out for me. It has not abandoned me. I-I have plenty of time. Time is on my side. It answers to me. It obeys me. I-”

But he doesn’t have the chance to finish the tirade; a great-arrow suddenly flies by and nearly impales him. Deborah’s a clean shot as always even without using aura to guide her bolt.

Nokron falls to the floor, blindsided by the sudden attack, and Sarathiel uses the opportunity to charge in while he’s disoriented. They clash blow upon blow as their weapons connect, but the Nox commander’s resistance is much more brittle; his mind is still shaken by the sudden revelation.

“Is that really all you’ve got!?” the titan bellows. “You sure talked big about being ‘chosen’, but it looks like meager tricks are all you’re capable of. I almost feel embarrassed about being cautious around you; this display is pathetic.”

“Tricks…” Nokron mutters deliriously. “Yes, I suppose they are all I have. It was foolish of me to think I could have gotten rid of you once weakened by the explosion. I am not a fighter; I am a chemist. If it is ‘tricks’ you desire, then receive it you shall.”

Sarathiel is teleported away once again. Or rather, it’d be more accurate to say he went back to where he started as he finds himself right in front of the fortress gates. Before he can steady himself, an explosion erupts from beneath, sending him tumbling back as a ghastly pale-green cloud begins to fill the air around him.

“Wha-what is this?” Sarathiel coughs, vision becoming obscured. The gas completely envelopes his body—filling his lungs—and scorches his skin as the aura protecting him shudders from the vapor’s contact.

“My crowning achievement,” Nokron’s voice echoes from within the withering plague. “I never was one for fighting directly, but these past few days have made me more…aggressive than usual. Emotions truly are the plight of mankind, but no more; my mind is sound. Now, you shall enter my domain.

“My Niflheim.”