Reports of riots are now coming in from aboard the Deus Nobiscum following the shocking leak earlier today.

For those just now joining us, three hours and fifty minutes ago, a recording of a confidential Superbian meeting was leaked by a reliable source. In this recording, the Superbian Apexbishop -- Giovanni Sigma Testament -- indicated that the Superbian Cardinals were in fact dead, and that he was responsible for this. The Cardinals have not been seen in public for several weeks, with official statements indicating that they had gone into seclusion for personal reasons.

Internal Superbian sources have thus far refused to comment. However, Humilist sources have confirmed that their own Apexbishop Gertrude Hearth has indeed passed away, as was also indicated on the leaked recording.

The eyes of the Final Church are now on the Deus Nobiscum, and how the Superbian Apexbishop will respond to this leak.

Broadcast Report, Brighteye FC

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Grimsley del Yart loved his sword. Like, really loved it. If his sword were a lady, he'd fuck it. That was how much he liked it. But it weren't, so he wouldn't. Plus, he didn’t want to get his dick cut off.

For one, his sword were sharp. For another, his sword were shiny. It were the kind of sword that stood out in a crowd -- and that was what Grimsley wanted. People didn't give you no money if they couldn't see what they was being threatened with, after all.

Take today, for example. He was holding up some Paradisas pansy against the alley wall, half the freak's implants and beep-boops smashed and sparking from the first punch Grimsley had given him. But even though Grimsley were the one beating on him, the idiot's eyes weren't on Grimsley.

No, they was on his sword.

Grimsley was holding it right under the tinhead's chin, ready to cut his throat if he tried anything funny. It was reflecting the lights far above all pretty-like, making it look like it were glowing.

"Grace token," Grimsley growled, pressing the blade just a little bit tighter against the Paradisas. "Transfer it over. No funny business or I kill yer."

The tinhead nodded just a tiny bit -- probably 'cause he were scared of cutting his own neck open. Slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his grace token, the white disc reflecting a bit of light just like Grimsley's sexy sword.

Grimsley pulled out his own grace token -- a proxy that the Lupine had sold him -- and pressed it against the tinhead's.

"All yer grace in free spending," Grimsley demanded. "Approve it. Don't be fucking funny or I'll kill yer."

"Please," the tinhead murmured. "Come on, I'm begging -- just leave me something, I --"

Grimsley tightened his hold. "Are you bein' fucking funny?"

The Paradisas looked deep into Grimsley's eyes, and what was there made him shake his head. Grimsley was an intimidating bloke, after all. Couldn't blame him.

"Transfer approval," the tinhead said, voice hoarse. "Chester Hedron, all… all grace in free spen --"

The tinhead stopped talking, and his eyes widened. Grimsley felt hot anger flood into his brain. How many warnings did this idiot need?!

Before he could finally cut the tinhead's throat, though, Grimsley heard a sound. The sound of a single footstep landing behind him. But that didn't make no sense. If someone was coming, he'd have noticed them ages before that.

"I'd advise you to let the man go," said a voice from behind him.

Grimsley turned to look over his shoulder. Standing there was a young guy with long black hair, tied back, wearing a dark long-coat. His grey eyes gave Grimsley a funny look… like the dickhead was looking down on him. Grimsley gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Listen, mate," he snarled, whirling around -- and that was as far as he got. With a single thrust of his palm, the newcomer slammed Grimsley to the ground, sending his sword clattering to the floor.

Grimsley wheezed, trying to pick himself up and failing. It was like he'd been hit by a car.

The newcomer glanced at the tinhead. "Leave," he said gently. "You're safe now." The Paradisas wasted no time, stuffing his grace token back into his pocket and hurrying off.

Then… those grey eyes turned back to Grimsley. They really were looking down on him now.

Getting up was still more than he could handle, but Grimsley managed to crawl back a little as the newcomer approached, fear causing his body to shake. "Come on, come on, mate," he said desperately. "You got me, you saved that fella, right? That's what you wanted, yeah? Just -- just let me go, okay? I’m just a little guy! Come on!"

The newcomer squatted down next to him, and Grimsley instinctively winced. Still, no attack came.

"Gimme a break…" Grimsley squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I will," the newcomer promised, holding one finger up. "On one condition."

Grimsley opened his eyes again. "W-What?"

The newcomer pointed to the sword, lying on the ground. "You let me borrow that."

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Getting onto the Deus Nobiscum was less difficult than Dragan had expected. Unlike last time, security on the ship was in chaos due to the events aboard, so he, Ruth, Bruno and Serena managed to slip onto it right before the net closed.

After receiving the message from Skipper, Dragan had quickly learnt that he wasn't the only one who'd received such information. Apparently, the original sender of the message was a Superbian official named Isabelle Pi Testament -- probably related to Giovanni -- who'd gone missing since leaking the data. Riots had sprung up throughout the civilian population on the Deus Nobiscum since it had spread out, and now the Vox Dei was mostly occupied dealing with that situation.

Still… the place was chaos.

Dragan had managed to bribe the captain of a cargo vessel to take them aboard while he made a scheduled delivery, and now that they were on the ship proper he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Security officers sprinting down corridors as fast as their legs would take them, Superbian flags ablaze in the middle of living quarters, stained glass shattered and left to litter the floor. The tranquility that Dragan had seen when they'd visited the chapel had utterly vanished.

Getting suitable disguises hadn't been much of an issue -- red robes and a haughty demeanor seemed to do the job as well as anything else. Dragan pulled his hood down low as he and his group made their way through a transport hub that seemed to have become something of a civil battlefield.

"So we're aboard," Bruno muttered, walking alongside him. "What do we do now? Skipper really didn't give us any orders?"

"I don't take orders from that guy," Dragan said automatically, before pulling out his script to glance at the file again. "No instructions, either. Still…"

"Still what?" Ruth asked, bringing up the rear. Despite Dragan's insistence, she hadn't pulled up her hood, her distinctive ginger hair out for all to see.

"Maybe all the context we need is the file itself?" Dragan ventured, stepping out of the way of a passing security officer.

Bruno raised a nearly unseen eyebrow. "How'd you mean?"

"The one who sent this is this Isabelle Pi Testament person, right?" Dragan said. "I kept up to date on the news while we were on our way here. Word is that the Superbians still haven't found her. Maybe if we find her, the next step will become more obvious?"

"And how exactly are we going to do that?"

Dragan nodded to the station at the heart of this transport hub, where trains took workers to whatever part of the ship was required. Even with everything going on, the trains still seemed to be running.

"Aether ping," he said. "I've had some practice recently doing it rapid-burst. I take the train all the way around, pinging the whole time -- I'll send you guys the locations of Aether-users who seem to be hiding away from other people. That way, we can search the whole ship quickly."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Bruno frowned. "That means leaving you alone, though. You sure about that?"

Serena frowned too. "Last time we did that, you ended up almost dying! I don't want you to almost die again, Mr. Dragan."

"I'd rather avoid that, too," Dragan said, his voice droll. "So I'll make sure it doesn't happen. Trust me."

Ruth crossed her arms, biting her lip. "This… doesn't seem like the best plan ever, not gonna lie." She glanced around the area, at the agitation of the crowds trying to board civilian transport and the security forces trying to keep them contained. "Especially with all this stuff going on."

Dragan ran a hand over his face, becoming agitated. "Look," he said. "We can't argue about this all day. With the civilian trains like that, there's no telling how long the worker transport will be up and running for. Do you trust me?"

Ruth nodded. "Of course."

"Then trust me. We can do this."

She exchanged a glance with Bruno and Serena, before finally -- and reluctantly -- nodding.

"Fine," Bruno growled. "Just… don't get careless, okay?"

Dragan smirked. "Never."

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Jean Lyons ran his hands over the final piece of the plan, only the slightest trace of pride in his posture and smile. The device was cylindrical, but intentionally featureless -- without lights or controls through which its purpose could be discerned. It was perfect in its absence.

The Humilists had been dealt with by cutting off their head. The Superbians would be dealt with by driving their mastermind to despair. Which left the Paradisas…

The device Jean had loaded into the tiny shuttle was at the forefront of Supremacy technology, straight from the Absurd Weapons Lab itself. Jean's research had exposed a deficiency in the Paradisas' defenses, and once he used that deficiency to get this device aboard the ELIZA, they were as good as dealt with as well.

This had been an invigorating mission, all things considered, but Jean had begun to tire of it. So many factors to consider, and so much instability within his own subordinates… it would be good to wipe the slate clean. Perhaps he'd take some vacation days once he got back to the Supremacy. Atlantica would like that as well, he slyly imagined.

He checked the straps holding the cylinder down one more time before turning to look out the back of the shuttle.

"It's secure," he began. "Prepare for…"

He'd intended to speak to Solstice and Equinox, the only two units he had that were still stable and usable. However, they were not standing before him. Instead, their hefty bodies were lying on the hangar floor, clearly unconscious or dead.

The one standing before him…

…was Atoy Muzazi.

"We have matters to discuss, Mr. Lyons," he said, voice cold.

He looked a little worse for wear, his face bruised and painted with dried blood -- and blood dripped from the sword he was holding, as well, which Jean supposed answered how exactly he'd done away with Solstice and Equinox. Even so… given what Jean had heard about Gertrude Hearth's interrogation methods, Muzazi was in much better condition than he'd expected.

Not good enough condition to make a difference… but still.

Jean clasped his hands behind his back, looking impassively down at Muzazi from the top of the boarding ramp.

"If I may ask," he said calmly. "How did you find this location? I don't recall telling you about it."

Muzazi flicked his blade through the air, splattering the remaining blood onto the ground. "Helga Malwarian pointed me in the right direction. She is familiar with how you operate. From there, it was a matter of searching."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Should I take that as confirmation that Helga has betrayed me, then?"

"I'm not sure you should be speaking of betrayal to anyone," Muzazi glared. "Why did you send Olga to kill me?"

He knew about that, then. Well, since he wasn't dead, it was already clear that he knew about that. Jean sighed.

"You'd become more of a liability than an asset," he explained. "So I went to get rid of you. It's as simple as that. Sorry."

Muzazi took a step forward, fury in his eyes, white Aether crackling around his body and sword. The blade in his hand began to gently glow.

What an annoyingly flashy Aether tic… the same as that man's…

"Sorry?!" Muzazi snarled, squeezing the hilt of his sword. "You send me to do your dirty work, send a child to stab me in the back, and then say sorry?!"

"Yes."

Muzazi shifted his stance slightly, getting ready to launch himself forward. His eyes narrowed, visibly locking onto Jean's form, calculating the killing angle. The mechanisms of a warrior never changed.

"Once, you told me of your past," Muzazi growled, his grim eyes reflected on the surface of his blade. "Of how you once opposed the Supremacy, and of how you and your friends were annihilated. Having gone through that… having experienced all of that… how can you betray others so easily…?"

Jean furrowed his brow. "Opposed the Supremacy? What are you -- oh." The memory popped back up. "I did tell you something like that, didn't I? Forgive me. That was a lie for the purpose of emotional manipulation."

Muzazi stared at Jean for a second, dumbfounded --

-- and then he leapt off the ground.

"LYONS!" he roared, crossing the distance in a second, swinging his sword horizontally with all his might. Jean did not move as Muzazi appeared right in front of his face, Jean did not move as his sword drew close to splitting his head in half, and Jean did not move as the weapon finally…

…made contact.

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Muzazi's sword gently brushed against Lyons' cheek. It was as if he'd just caressed the other man's face with it. The touch of the blade was so soft that it didn't even draw blood.

Lyons smirked, resting one finger on the surface of the blade. "Is that all you have to offer, Mr. Muzazi?"

"What…" Muzazi muttered. "What did you…?!"

Bang.

The blade exploded utterly, shards of metal flying in every direction, only failing to slice the two of them apart due to their Aether defenses. Still, Muzazi reflexively winced, closing his eyes for just a moment as the metal shards flew past.

The second he did that, he felt Lyons gently place his palm against his chest.

He didn't know how Lyons had done it, but he'd destroyed the sword with just a touch. If that same ability could be applied to a human body, then…

Move!

Muzazi went to leap back, but too late.

Bang.

The impact felt like he'd been struck by a starship. Before he could blink or even breathe, Muzazi was sent flying out of the back of the shuttle -- through the crates and equipment that littered the hangar bay -- and into the far metal wall with enough force that he left a sizable crater, lodging him into place.

All the air was instantly pushed out of his lungs, and he felt the breaking of bones throughout his body. His head hung, blood leaking from his mouth…

…and his consciousness sinking into a deep, dark pit.

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"I've got one I think might be her," Dragan said, script pressed to his ear. "Sending you her location now. I'm at the last stop -- I'll be on my way back to the first station after this."

He heard Ruth's voice on the other end of the call. "You gonna meet back up with us?"

Dragan looked out at the platform and that pretty much answered the question for him.

At first, he just shook his head, before realizing Ruth couldn't see that over the phone. "No," he said. "It'd take too much time. You guys set off now, and I'll head back to guard the ship. Sound good?"

Ruth snorted. "Sounds like you're just trying to keep yourself out of danger, but whatever. We'll find you after we've got her. Don't die."

"I don't think that's too likely," Dragan lied, before ending the call.

The worker train had been sparse to begin with, but by the final station he was now the only person in any of the compartments. The vehicle was fully automated, too, so there was no driver or staff aboard either. That was probably for the best.

It would have caused a commotion if their Apexbishop was waiting on the platform for them, after all.

Giovanni Sigma Testament stood alone on the empty platform, his red eyes locked onto Dragan's blue ones as the train slowly pulled in. The train itself was suspended by cords connecting it to the track above, the vehicle hanging over a mechanical abyss, and for a horrible second Dragan thought that Giovanni would simply attack those connections and drop him into the darkness… but no.

Instead, he just waited for the train doors to open, and quietly stepped inside. He stood opposite Dragan, just a few meters separating them. At first, there were no words between them, just silent stares as the doors closed and the train slowly began moving again.

Dragan was the first to speak. "Is there any point in asking how you found me?"

"I remember the feel of your Aether from last time," Giovanni replied, his voice sounding dull and dead. "You weren't exactly subtle with those pings. You must have expected I'd find you."

"Well," Dragan smirked. "Maybe a little."

Giovanni glanced down at the script still in Dragan's hand. "You told your friend you'd meet back up. Is that okay?"

Dragan stuffed the script back into his pocket. "I don't intend on that being a lie. How about you? With everything going on, I'm sure you have better things to do than come after me. You confessed to murdering the Cardinals -- and that recording's all over the media now. Isn't that a bigger issue?"

As the train picked up speed, light from the static electricity that accumulated outside flickered through the windows, illuminating their faces in a pale glow. Giovanni's expression did not change.

"It takes fifteen minutes for this train to reach the first station after completing the loop," he said calmly. "I can spare fifteen minutes. Once you're dead, I'll get back to those more important matters you speak of. Besides… you want to fight me, too, don't you?"

Dragan adopted a combat stance, fists held up in front of him. "We do owe each other some limbs, after all. Petty revenge is one of my favourite hobbies."

"What a coincidence. I'm exactly the same. Once you're dead, Jamie will rest in peace. Then I can go ahead and forget about you."

"You sound confident. Guess that's what all that time playing god gets you."

"I'm not playing."

There was silence for a moment further, lingering only until the train switched to a new section of track and shook slightly.

"First Verse!" Giovanni declared, twin spears of red crystal firing from over his shoulders.

"Gemini Shotgun!" Dragan cried, electric blue Aether flaring around him.