“The capital of Nox Caelum is one of my favorite venues in regards to obtaining fresh inspiration. Caligos Imperium, the city of smog, is its moniker. And rightfully so, for the streets of this charming acropolis are filled with a constant stream of byproducts from numerous labs and workshops scattered throughout the city. The residents are subjected to a grey sky, lifeless and dull, while they live out their lives as mere cogs dedicated to Xeros. You would think that such conditions would only produce empty souls, but that could not be any further from the truth. No, it is because they live such a dreary life that creativity, that beauty, blossoms ever so rigorously within. After all, It is only within our darkest moments that we shine the brightest.”

Satanael

———

Satanael

The soot-stained roads of the Nox capital are busy as usual. Mechanical constructs creak and groan as they trample by upon the blackened ground, and a sea of hollow-eyed laborers shuffle mindlessly traversing the winding pathways that make up the ringed city—their faces covered with dirt and the odd boils—but Satanael is able to notice a few budding individuals amongst the crowd who harbor great potential to be a beautiful seedbed. A shame, but he has other matters to attend to at the moment.

His muse desires information, and as an obedient marionette strung along to its celestial tether, he must complete his objective before he can return to his more indulgent hobbies.

The city of Caligos Imperium is separated into four distinct divisions, each one located on a different elevation level. From top to bottom, affluent to powerless, the citizens live in a strictly merit-based society.

Satanael quite dislikes this system for Xeros’s definition of “merit” wholly excludes the skills of those not related to his war-faring pastime. Where’s the love for the arts? For music? Polus is much more entertaining in that regard.

Regardless, it’s quite natural for there to be…dissenters amongst his regime. They scuttle about, veiling themselves from his all-seeing eye—which means it’s not all-seeing after all, Satanael supposes—while plotting in the shadows of the nation’s dumping ground: The Slums.

It is within this wretched hive that Satanael seeks to make his destination. But first, it wouldn’t hurt to mingle with the common folk. If there’s anything he’s learned from his years as a man of the arts, it’s that people love to gossip. A bit of merrymaking, some alcohol perchance, and their lips soon become loosened as a river of gold is spewed forth from their weary mouths.

Luckily for him, there’s a location he frequents that is often occupied by disgruntled engineers and grease jockeys, jockey being a rather derogatory term given to low-leveled factory workers, who are not afraid to voice their grievances amongst their drunken stupor. These poor souls reside in the Freedmen district, quite an ironic name considering their circumstances, but nonetheless it is where the average citizen calls home.

Satanael briskly descends the steps of a foreboding-looking alleyway as he heads towards an inconspicuous little shop. He’s dressed quite fashionably for the occasion despite the drab environment, donning a pitch-black suit made from tweed fabric while a burgundy-red tie with patterns of sharpened thorns lies snugly on his chest. It doesn’t matter where you are, one must always look their best; it’s only polite.

He knocks on the door with three rapid taps. A tiny slot opens as a pair of beady eyes carefully scrutinizes him.

“What’s th-” the doorkeeper begins. “Oh, my apologies Mr. Rose. I should have recognized you what with that…eccentric mask of yours.”

“My my, what happened to those passwords you all are so fond of?” Satanael chuckles.

“Heh, as if anyone else would dress like you around here. Why do you always wear such fancy suits to these run-down places anyway?”

“I simply adore looking charming.”

“If you say so. You’re an odd man, Mr. Rose, but who am I to judge in a world like this? Come on in.”

The door opens to reveal a quaint, dimly-lit bar filled with people hoping to forget the day’s hardship by drowning themselves with drink. Places like these aren’t necessarily forbidden by the Nox government, but it’s better for such establishments to be situated away from the public. “Out of sight, out of mind” as they say. Even Xeros knows that depriving people of liquid debauchery would lead to his ruin.

“Hoh? Now who is this snazzy looking individual over here?” a red-haired proprietress smirks as she cleans the counter. “It’s been quite a while, Mr. Rose. You haven’t forgotten about little ol’ me now have you?”

“A pleasure as always madam Ceraphina. You know a man such as I cannot be contained in this little corner of the world. I’ve been busy searching for some high-quality seeds for my garden.”

“You always go on about seeds, yet I still have no idea what your supposed miracle garden looks like. Fancy letting me have a look sometime?”

“Perhaps one day. The time is not ripe for you just yet.”

“Well, it’d better ripe fast. I don’t want to be an old woman before I finally see some damned greenery in this smog-filled city.”

“Haha, I promise the day will come before that occurs.”

“Ah, bullshit. As if anything could grow around here,” a drunken patron slurs near him. “Only place free from the air is in the Hyperion district, but only the best of the best can go up there.”

“Who knows? Maybe Mr. Rose over here is a high-ranking official, disguised in order to mingle among us talentless folk,” Ceraphina says slyly.

“If it’s a disguise, then it’s a damned shitty one. Nah, he’s just a weird fellow. No offense.”

“None taken, Mr…?” Satanael questions.

“Call me Barker. Cid Barker. I’m just a humble engineer over at the Vulcan Workshop.”

“The Vulcan Workshop? My, that’s quite an esteemed position you have. Isn’t that located in the Archon district? You’re quite the high-ranking individual yourself if you reside amongst the skilled and talented.”

“Bah, I’m not like those geniuses. I only made it up there after years of honing my craft, and in the end my skills are only on par with younglings half my age.”

“Even so, you’ve still achieved what many in this layer can only dream of achieving. Why spend your time down here?”

“Booze up in the Archon is just diluted drivel. Ceraphina’s the only place I can get some half-decent ale in this city.”

“Awe, you flatter me, you old drunk,” she chuckles.

“You deserve it. I would’ve gone insane long ago if not for this bar.” He sighs. “Especially since the higher-ups have been working us like beast lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re preparing for a full-on invasion against Polus.”

“The Grand General’s really committed this time around, huh?”

“Guess so. Apparently one of their core leaders, Lorelai, has died. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to annex the kingdom once and for all.”

“D’ya think he’s gonna lead the charge himself? It’s been quite a while since he’s shown his face to us down here.”

“Dunno. Well, at the very least the invasion won’t start soon. Some buddies told me that he’s currently away at The Steppe for some talks with The Overlord. I don’t think he’ll be back for another week or two.”

“Eh, I suppose it doesn’t really concern us regular folk. I do feel bad about the soldiers though. It’s probably gonna be a real bloody battle. I shudder to think how many will die this time around.”

“That’s the nature of war, darling. You were only a fledgeling when Xeros was elected, but times were pretty tough for everyone back then. Luxmi, Stars bless her soul, tried her best, but our government was just too far gone. Bastards treated this land and its people like garbage, and it was only when Xeros rose to power that their corruption came to an end. Life’s still a bit tough, but under his rule, at least we have some dignity and a spark of hope.”

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“Heh, I’ve long abandoned any feelings of hope. Tried to be a scholar, a warrior, heck even an engineer, but it never did turn out well. Guess I just lack that special something.”

“Hey, at least you can pour a mean drink.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

They laugh the night away and continue their little banter, practically inhaling their drinks as they bellow out their woes. Sarathiel, meanwhile, is more intrigued about the sudden production increase at the workshops.

“If I am remembering correctly…the Vulcan Workshop specializes in creating new technology does it not?” Sarathiel questions. “The task of creating war machines and exoskeletons are delegated to the factories in the Freedmen district.”

“Yup, I’m honestly a bit confused about what we’re making. We have orders for creating cores for the “death lasers” or whatever they’re called, but recently they’ve been having us create some strange device. I don’t know what it is, but it needs power. A lot of it. More than what aura can handle. It’ll take ages before it’s complete, but if you ask me, I’d rather not work on it more than I have to. It’s real unnerving to be around.”

“Oh? Curious. How so?”

“It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before. It ain’t no weapon, transport, or conventional machine. No, it’s a lot more sinister, as if the thing has a soul of its own. And let me tell ya, it’s a real evil one. If I were to describe it…well-

“It looks like a beacon.”

———

“Hmm, now that’s troubling,” Satanael murmurs to himself, now outside on the moon-lit pavement. “A beacon, but for what? And to expend such effort for its creation…Xeros was never a man to waste his time; whatever this beacon is, I predict a dark future ahead.”

His body shivers, overcome with ecstasy from the information. This is valuable, very valuable. Ah, just how will he be rewarded by his Constellation for this? Perhaps it’ll allow him to be wrapped within its embrace? To have his body caressed by its soft, tender fingers? Or maybe, just maybe, it’ll grant him a tiny drop of its celestial blood? Oh what bliss that would be. Euphoria tingles every pore of his body at the thought.

However, his duty is not complete just yet. No, he has one last destination to make before he returns to his almighty. It’s time to enter the Slums.

Satanael briskly strides under the cover of darkness throughout the streets until he comes across a barred-off metal gate—no doubt erected to ensure none of the lower folk will be able to corrupt the common man with their inadequacy. Such harsh treatment will naturally beget animosity, but perhaps that is exactly what Xeros wants. Fear of failure is a powerful motivator, especially when the consequences are so dire, and the downtrodden are too powerless to retaliate. At least, that’s what The Grand General believes, but he underestimates the lengths an injured beast will go to enact their vengeance.

Satanael effortlessly scales the gate and makes his way down, deeper into the darkness. The buildings around him become more deteriorated, decayed, until there are no buildings at all. Just giant masses of rubble and waste, all collected at the deepest pits of the city. The smell is rancid and the ground is muddled, but nonetheless, life finds a way. The residents of this forsaken land huddle around makeshift hovels created from the defective scraps of the workshop while others stare transfixed at a lit bonfire fueled by crude oil and discarded fabric. Their eyes are hollow, but Satanael can sense something deeper within them. Beyond that empty facade is a blazing wildfire ready to be unleashed; it only needs a small push to be ignited.

And ignited it shall be.

Suddenly, a tiny hand tugs at his pantsuit. Satanael looks down to find a little girl dressed in rags, caked in mud and dirt, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Oh those eyes are filled with such beauty, an innocence unblemished even in this rotting landscape.

“Why, hello there little one,” he hums. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”

“Um, um…” she stutters. “Are you Mr. Rose?”

“Why, you’ve found the right person. Indeed I am.”

“Oh! Um, S-Sarah said to look for you. She said a weird man would visit us.”

“Ah, yes. I have an appointment with madam Sarah. Would you be so kind as to lead me to her? We have very important things to talk about. Very important indeed.”

“Sure!” she beams.

“My, you’re an energetic one. What’s your name?”

“Lilac! Sarah gave me that name. I like it a lot.”

“And a very pretty name it is. The floor is yours, Lilac. Lead the way.”

“Ok!”

The little girl scrambles over herself and excitedly takes Satanael’s hand. They navigate the twisting maze of rubble and ruin, occasionally meeting the odd resident who waves as they pass by. The girl herself is quite cheery, but her steps are slow—right leg dragging on the ground while she excitedly babbles about her day. She must have been born lame, the poor thing. Such a condition is a death sentence in this society. The weak are tossed away while the strong are rewarded; that is the Nox Caelum creed.

Eventually, they arrive at a construct that somewhat resembles a house—more than the others around anyway. The door opens as they approach and a woman robed in grey attire steps out to greet them. Her auburn hair, dulled dark from stress, is wrapped neatly in a bun while her skin is pale as the moon. Deep, brown eyes carefully examine him, but her caution is cut short when a tiny force is suddenly launched into her stomach—Lilac excitedly rushing in to wrap herself around her.

“Sarah! I found him! I found the weird man!” she shouts while latched onto the woman. “Oh, but he’s really nice. He listened to me and played with me. I like him.”

“Good job dear,” Sarah chuckles. “Why don’t you head inside? I was able to snag some fruit while you were gone. A brave little girl like you deserves a reward for your hard work—feel free to help yourself!”

“Yay! Thank you!”

She dashes inside, leaving the other two alone to bask in the moon’s shadow.

“You’re quite a persistent fellow, aren’t you?” she says, her gaze looking down on him. “Well, here I am. Now just who exactly are you?

“Allow me to formally introduce myself,” Satanael bows. “I am Mr. Rose, a traveler so to speak. You must be madam Sarah, or should I say Ceraphina?”

“…Hoh, looks like you weren’t fooled, huh? Just how long have you known?”

“Since the very beginning, my dear. I’ve heard quite a bit about your organization—all good things I assure you—so naturally I deigned to frequent your little ‘bar’ to learn more about you.”

“Is that so? I must say, you’re quite a man of mystery Mr. Rose. You’ve been trying to reach me for a few months now, yet there’s not a single trace of your existence anywhere before you started lurking around. I don’t know your origin, how you got here, or what it is you even desire. I’m putting myself at quite the risk here by revealing my true identity, but something tells me that you’re not here to harm us.”

“On the contrary, I am here to help you.”

“Oh? With what?”

“Why, to bring Xeros down from his throne of course.”

“Interesting. And how exactly did you find out about us anyway?”

“Hahah, by ‘lurking around’ as you have stated. I am everywhere madam Sarah. ‘Tis the benefits of being a traveler.”

“…Well, I’ll let your origin slide for now. The question is: Why should I trust you?”

“Perhaps it will be better to show you myself. Do you mind if I use your door?”

“My…door? I suppose. Just what do you need it for?”

“You need only observe.”

Satanael walks up to the handle, and to Sarah’s surprise, the door opens revealing an entirely different location—one filled with wonder and beauty that she has never seen before. The floral scent of his garden overwhelms her senses, and when she recovers, he has disappeared into thin air. She tries to open the door again, but all that meets her is the regular-old interior of her house.

“Wha-what in Cosmos’s name just happened?” she exclaims.

In an instant he returns, but this time he’s not alone. In his hands lie a battered, eviscerated corpse. Their features are no longer recognizable, and only the clothes are untouched from the mad desecration of their body.

“I-I recognize that attire,” Sarah says, her face overcome with horror. “That’s one of my men. Just what did you do!?”

“I simply helped you cull your organization of traitors.”

“Traitors?”

“Indeed. You must have had your suspicions, did you not?”

“I mean…sure, I kept an eye over him, but there was never any real proof that he would betray us. How could you just brutalize him like this?”

“Ah, if it is proof you require, then I shall provide it.”

Satanael throws a blood-soaked journal at Sarah. She tentatively picks it up, body ready to retaliate in case the man before her suddenly attacks, and flips through the pages. Recorded in it are various names of people that make up the higher echelon of her organization as well as records of their various activities and hideaways. Everything, every single one of their plans, are documented with extreme detail.

Needless to say—for an organization like Ceraphina’s—such documentation is strictly outlawed.

“This fucking bastard was going to rat us out…” she growls.

“Quite so. I intercepted him right as he was escaping to the upper layers. I imagine an article such as this would spell the death of your organization, so I did you the favor of handling it myself.”

“…Alright. You proved your point. So, how will you help us?”

“Well, not I specifically. What I am about to tell you is of the utmost importance—a secret that can never leave your lips even if it would cost you your life. Are you prepared to shoulder this burden?”

“If it means ridding this nation of Xeros once and for all, I would sell my own soul.”

“Very well then. Now, listen closely.”

Satanael leans in right next to her ear. “Polus will soon invade the city.”

Sarah collapses onto the ground from the shock. “A-Are you serious?”

“Yes. Soon, the entirety of the Polus army will descend upon the city in order to slit Xeros’s throat. This knowledge is—of course—unknown to the man himself, but they are fast approaching. I surmise they will arrive right when he returns from his trip abroad. I understand you realize the gravity of the situation now?”

“…Haha. I never dreamed a day like this would come. Finally, finally the Stars have granted me my wish. But I don’t understand, why reveal this to me?”

“You know this city more than anyone else. The attack will be sudden, but even blindsided Caligos will not fall easily. What we require is an opening. An opening only your ilk can create. What do you say, madam Sarah? Will you betray your beloved nation?”

“Betray?” she mutters. “No, I’m saving it.”

“I shall take that as a yes. Our pact is sealed; let us prepare with haste. The end is soon approaching.”