A bored Meteos shuffled along the narrow metallic corridor as he tried to find something else to do. The recent developments had resulted in him trying to catch up with this world, but after what seemed to be four hours, he had already exhausted the materials that were available in one sitting. Looking at the passing clouds outside gave him no inspiration, as if they were mocking him with their stoic indifference. He wasn’t feeling like spending the return flight to Runepolis daydreaming… the clouds can be whatever they wish, and he desired to do something productive.
As he was about to pass another private compartment, the sound of buttons clicking and the soft voice of Legiel, his older brother and the bane of his existence, spilled out from the open door. Meteos wanted to just walk away and ignore him, but curiosity, a traitorous little imp, tugged at Meteos’ sleeve. He couldn’t help but stop and peek through the cracked open door of the next compartment.
Slightly hunching over a magic typewriter in his room, Legiel seemed to be in his element. His fingers danced across the keys in a flurry of motion punctuated by the rhythmic clack of the machine, while his mouth murmured words loud enough for Meteos to hear.
“The Holy Milishial Empire.
When someone hears that name, they will instantly be reminded of one thing: that they are the number one. The first country to emerge from the ashes of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire; the strongest superpower in the world; and many other things that they are the best. Though many of these are self-proclaimed, no one in this world can defy their claims and, in the end, it was acknowledged as the reality, that the Holy Milishial Empire is the number one in everything.
By the grace of the gods, it is the country that boasts the highest levels of modernity, industry, urbanization, and technological progress in the world ever since it was founded many millennia ago. Blessed with the abundance of ruins from the long-gone Ancient Sorcerous Empire's civilization, by uncovering their secrets the Holy Milishial Empire turned the strength of humanity’s greatest oppressor into their own. With their immense military strength gathered over centuries, they earned their place in the sun as the Central World and indeed, the world’s strongest superpower. Under the wise and benevolent leadership of their Emperors, the Holy Empire stands ready as the world's guardian for the fated return of the tyrannical Ravernal Empire… Hmm…”
Legiel was narrating whatever he was working on the machine as he typed. However, the typing soon paused and was replaced by a soft sigh.
“Seems a bit dry, but how do you like the opening narration of this story so far, Little Brother?” Legiel suddenly called out to him with a tinge of amusement. Without even turning around, his older brother was aware of Meteos’ presence. “What do you think? Anything I can tweak to grab the reader’s attention?”
Meteos, however, remained silent, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He refused to give Legiel the satisfaction of a response, the prickling irritation in his stomach urging him to maintain the upper hand.
However, he didn’t recall himself to be that petty. He knew that he as a human being is envious, and vain, and arrogant, and selfish, and—
Before long, Meteos let out a long, reluctant sigh, before stepping through the door.
“…What is it that you’re writing, Brother Legiel?” he mumbled, the polite question rolling off his tongue like a grudging admission of defeat.
Legiel spun around in his chair with a cheerful smile. “Ah, I’m glad you asked, Little Brother! What I’m doing is writing down a certain someone’s post-reincarnation memories into a story for people in the multiverse to read. I’ve just gotten started on the first chapter, though…”
“Post… reincarnation…? What do you mean by that?”
“Who else who reincarnates in this world? Your experiences, of course,” Legiel pointed out, tilting his head slightly.
This made Meteos’ brow furrow in a combination of disbelief and a feeling of weirdness.
“What—I mean, I don’t understand.”
Crossing his arms, Legiel stated, “I am something of a content creator myself. It is what I do.”
“Content creator…… Of course, you are,” Meteos grunted, eyebrows twitching slightly.
“Do you want to do something about it?”
“Ugh…”
The villain hijacks the world and then wants to record a (not necessarily heroic) protagonist’s tale…
Somehow, Meteos felt like he should have known this coming. Legiel, the Executive Producer of the Civilization Annihilation Game with a slanted sense of morality inherent of the Four Horsemen, wouldn’t let a chance for content slip through his fingers. But being stuck here, aware that his life is being scrutinized by higher beings across worlds because of the shenanigans of an entity exceeding even the gods in its power was a feeling much more uncomfortable than any he’d faced before.
“Hum? What’s with that helpless look?” Legiel chuckled, the amusement in his eyes now sent a new wave of irritation down Meteos’ spine.
“………”
However, he eventually decided to swallow the words of retort and turned on his heel to retreat back into the quiet monotony of the corridor, shaking his head with a jerky and frustrated motion. But before he could reach the door, Legiel’s voice cut through the air.
“Now, now, Little Brother, I just remembered something to be said to you. If you want me to stop writing a biography of yours without your consent, or if you ever feel like taking a shortcut, maybe a little boost in power, or a nudge in the right direction, or maaaaybe a world where summoning Japan and the Gra Valkas Empire is not needed… the Horsemen are always here for you, and we’re happy to help.”
Meteos paused. “And…? What’s the catch?”
“All you have to do is to last long enough in a fight against us Horsemen to earn our recognition. One fight for every request.”
“!!! …You know it’s pointless,” the younger brother retorted. “Even a god couldn’t stand against the Horsemen, a mortal like me even more so.”
“It’s not like we will not fight to kill lest the Eldest Brother will scorn us, but if that’s what you believe, then so be it,” Legiel nonchalantly shrugged. “Still, coming from a man so selfish that he desires the world… more precisely, ‘a better world for everyone where I also helped to shape it’ …I thought you might want to give it a try.”
While Meteos turned silent again, Legiel, sensing his rising discomfort, chuckled sheepishly.
“Alright… I apologize if those words touched some nerve,” he brought a finger to gently scratch his cheek while he slightly swung his gaze in another direction. “That was just an example… of how the Civilization Annihilation Game gets our targets excited. More and more selfish bastards flock in our direction because the Game kept dangling that carrot in front of them. Those are the kinds of beings who will gladly sacrifice others for their own gain, and will end in pointless cessation of existence because of it.”
Meteos let out a sigh of resignation as he leaned on the cabin’s wall and stared out the small window at the clouds passing by outside.
“An efficient way to weed out the rotten apples; is that what you think? If only you’d taken into account the orchard that is the mortals and the benevolent gods before starting everything… I wouldn’t have to feel repulsed by your presence this much.”
“But you endured and talked to me still, that’s something of a knightly spirit in you, I suppose, or maybe it’s just my charisma, hehe,” Legiel remarked with approval and chuckled lightly. “But anyway… benevolent gods losing against those addicts is a skill issue. If they can’t even fight those near-mindless addicts, then they’re not worth their status as gods.”
Legiel muttered dismissively, but his expression seemingly became genuinely apologetic when he continued. “As for mortals… well, my bad. Before the Eldest Brother forced me to descend down here, I always thought of your plane of existence as some kind of germ that at some point decided to start getting snarky. But hey, I enjoyed the vacation. Admittedly, being assigned a role as your doting older brother is an amusing experience.”
“…For crying out loud. Why am I having a dialogue with you again? Enough of this, I’m out of here.”
Left alone inside his cabin, Legiel simply tilted his head in amusement, the hint of affection behind his grin softening the sting of his teasing.
This younger brother of his… he’s envious, and vain, and arrogant, and selfish… but he is more than that.
Perhaps that was why Legiel found so much enjoyment from poking and prodding Meteos Roguerider with his soft-spoken but barbed words. It was something of a game.
“Mm-hmm… Well, he’ll surely come around,” Legiel muttered to himself, a smile tugging at his lips. “He might not show it now, but if he were to become someone better, he’d come around. We’ll get along just fine like what brothers should be, eventually. Hahaha…”
Legiel Roguerider, the alias of Pestilence, the Executive Producer of the Civilization Annihilation Game, is much more friendly to his potential victims and the opposition rather than his higher being Management, Gamers, and the Audience, whom he engineered to die on a regular basis because that was the Game actually was for. In the first place, he held no feelings toward the enemy he might have because he is more of a businessman whose job just happens to represent diseases of all kinds—physical, mental, spiritual—and cause collateral damage that endangers sentient beings with his idea of ‘how to create happiness,’ which is ‘smite evil until none remain’ by ‘pandering to their base desires and lure them into ruin.’
“Attention passengers! This is your favorite pilot Baridero speaking…”
The spirited voice from the internal manacomm sliced through Legiel’s ruminations.
“We are now approaching the destination and will be landing shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for touchdown… Welcome back to Runepolis, Young Masters.”
From the window of his cabin 6.000 meters in the sky, Legiel looked out to see the glittering skyscrapers of the Sleepless Magical City in the distance, a cityscape bisected by the Great Sumter River that snaked through the capital sparsely covered by clouds, beginning to grow larger.
❖⟐❖⟐❖
September 3, 1615 Central Calendar, 11:30
Runepolis, Holy Milishial Empire
Adorned with blues and whites, the large Heavenly Vessel privately owned by the Roguerider Foundation sliced through the sky above Runepolis after a four-hour flight from Leiden. However, this plane was not making an approach to the Xenosgram Airport like most passenger planes arriving at the capital would, nor it was landing at some other airfield. Under the control of a Foundation-affiliated pilot named Baridero, the Heavenly Vessel turned to descend toward the shimmering expanse of the Great Sumter River inland and dipped its ventral hull on the water, creating splashes on the secured stretch of the river flowing through the Arden District, home to many of Runepolis’ noble families.
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That particular plane is the “flying boat” Boudica 213 designed and built by the RVM, a T-tailed high-wing monoplane powered by four long cylindrical engines mounted on wingroot pylons over the fuselage. Earning the moniker “flying bahamut” after a certain large aquatic creature for its unprecedentedly large size for a Heavenly Vessel, it dwarfed its conventional contemporaries like the Guernica 13, the Holy Empire’s latest airliner by around ten meters in both length and wingspan. Despite flying boats are already a thing in the Middle Lands, the Boudica 213 is by far easily the largest, making it more reminiscent of a small magic skyship built by the far more primitive magic technology.
However, its impressiveness extends beyond mere dimensions. What it lacks in speed and operational ceiling, the Boudica 213 compensates for them with its unparalleled cruising range for this era. Nearly triple that of the Guernica 13, this flying boat is capable of crossing the ocean and reaching the other continent in a single flight. Furthermore, its ability to land on water makes it suitable for the Foundation, which had conducted activities even in outside civilization countries that lacked infrastructure such as airports. Ever since they took their positions in the Foundation’s leadership, Roderick, Adonis, and Legiel Roguerider often took business trips to far-off countries such as Irnetia and Paganda to the west or Quila and Qua-Toyne to the east aboard the Boudica 213 with only one stop to refuel along the way.
Based on the contract made with the Roguerider Foundation and the August Star Imperial Airways (ASIA), the Boudica 213 is built for transoceanic “First-Class” luxurious air travel, carrying monarchs and other important figures from nations ever since it entered service in late 1613. Naturally, with such an appearance, it quickly became the pride of the Holy Milishial Empire as one of the most visible examples of the known world’s advanced magic technology.
Furthermore, the four flying boats currently operated by the Foundation are not the stock RVM variant. They installed the most advanced navigation systems in the Holy Empire’s current disposal, installed cabin pressurization systems like in the Guernica 13, and upgraded the four “Manadrive Pulsejets” that utilized the G1 Manadriver tech with the more advanced G2 resulting in a dramatical increase of performance rivaling that of the standard Guernica 13. Its increased fuel efficiency and cruising range are achieved by allowing their flying boats to use the “Igni-50” fuel. This designation denotes the 50% purity liquid red magic stone fuel, better than the standard aviation fuels of the present-day HME, Igni-25 and Igni-35, and halfway to the hypothetical 100% purity universal magic fuel, the Amrita…
…which is actually just a purified water that becomes slightly more viscous and glows in the dark due to there’s so much mana concentrated in it. Something that the Desire Drivers in the Roguerider family’s possession are already capable of harnessing without needing to be charged with more mana (the so-called Paramita), no less.
In addition, the Foundation assigned only the very best and most experienced flight crews to the particular Boudica 213 carrying the Roguerider siblings on their journey back to Runepolis. Baridero, an elven ex-Imperial Navy admiral, is a longtime wyvern rider and the first person to ever fly the Heavenly Vessel when it was first invented, making the rigorous training regimen of Milishian naturally originated from his experiences. Under his tutelage and combined with advanced magic technology, the Foundation’s Boudica 213 pilots became daring enough to land in conditions of poor or no visibility such as fogged-in harbors, where others would be hesitant.
And so, the Roguerider siblings and their young friends, who returned to the capital after spending a summer vacation in Enysfal, stepped on Runepolis’ ground after disembarking from the moored flying boat.
----------------------------------------
September 5, 1615 Central Calendar, 08:00
Magala Familia Central Hospital, Junis District, Runepolis
It was a Saturday morning.
Two days after their return, Meteos decided to go along with Ace to visit someone precious to them currently lying comatose in the Holy Empire’s best hospital. As the elevator chimed and opened its doors, the sterile white hallway leading to Guinevere’s room stretched before them with some hospital staff and patients passing by here and there. Meteos couldn’t help but notice the rhythmic tremor in Ace’s steps and fists balled beneath the fabric of his jacket. The chill radiating from his silhouette jarred against their usual easy banter that his memories provided him.
As per his Third Timeline’s memories, the two had been the most frequent visitors out of the siblings within the three months after Guinevere Pendragon, Astarte’s incarnation in this new world, fell into her ‘current’ state. Following them in frequency is Adonis, who made sure to come if his schedule permits it, and unfortunately, like rubbing salt in a wound… Legiel.
“But… she wouldn’t want any of us dwelling in the gloom, yes?”
The younger brother couldn’t help but let out a murmur. Yet, his attempt at lightness felt somewhat hollow even to his own ears.
Ace replied with a strained grin twisting his lips. “Yeah, you’re right,” he rasped, but the forced cheer didn’t fool Meteos for a second. The simmering anger beneath this August Star incarnate ran deeper than just worry for his comatose lover in this world. The memories of Legiel’s presence anywhere near her were undoubtedly the culprit. Ever since Meteos regained his agency in this Third Timeline, memories related to Legiel always come as a test for their patience. The Executive Producer was the one who’d condemned Astarte to a living death. And yet, here he was, forcing the universe to grant the same privilege of being present as those who truly loved her. The injustice of it scratched at Ace like a rusty blade.
Still, he hoped that Ace would focus on what they can control now. After all, Meteos had been told by none other than this god himself that Astarte is strong on her own, and he chose to believe in that.
As they approached the door near the end of the corridor, from around a corner in the opposite direction emerged a tall silver-haired figure, while behind him trailed a young girl Meteos’ age bringing a bouquet. It was Duke Lucius Pendragon, Guinevere’s father, and his other daughter Annette.
“Ace, Meteos,” the Duke greeted with a weary but cordial tone. “We didn’t hear you arrive.”
“Nice to meet you, Duke Pendragon. We just got here, actually,” Ace answered.
“I see. It’s good to see you both, but I didn’t expect you to decide a visit so soon.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we arrived at 3rd, I think we were late enough…”
The Good Duke’s smile at that remark held a hint of understanding. “Hm. It’s not like we set any expectations.” He gestured towards the door and led the way. “Shall we?”
While the two older men entered first, Annette lingered back as she turned to address Meteos. “Thank you again for the trip to Leiden. Everything was incredible.”
Meteos nodded. “Good then if you enjoyed it. It was the least we could offer.”
“Thanks to you… now I have something to tell Sister while she’s still asleep,” Annette finished, her voice turning soft.
“…Yeah.”
They followed the others into the room, the white walls instantly feeling suffocating despite the presence of large windows overlooking the city. Ignoring the feeling, Meteos’ gaze was instantly drawn to the lone figure slumbering at the center. Despite now possessing the physical features of a human and a natural silver hair, Astarte’s incarnate still held an ethereal beauty. Long, white hair like spun moonlight spilled across the stark pillows that framed a face with the paleness of winter snow. Despite the sterile tubes snaking along her arm and the rhythmic beep of the monitor beside her bed, the serenity on her face seemed almost peaceful.
A worried Ace looked immensely relieved to be able to see her again, as this would be the first time since this Third Timeline was created.
‘Now that you can exist in this world you loved… you would want to wake up and see all of it for yourself, don’t you, Goddess Astarte?’ Meteos muttered inwardly seeing her in such a state.
Can’t a miracle happen to her just this once? What should anyone do?
At that moment, the infuriating offer from Legiel of a fight as the key to any wish he might have resurfaced within his mind.
…Should he give it a try?
But why?
Eventually, with the thought of Astarte’s suffering kept haunting his mind throughout the day, that night he decides to quietly seek Legiel after finishing whatever work that’s available.
…………
22:00
San Redentore District, Runepolis
The outcome of the match that night was as predictable as a meteor shower on a moonless night. With the rule that both sides use their Desire Drivers to transform, Legiel effortlessly trounced his younger brother in one minute and thirty-eight seconds. As a result, Meteos Roguerider’s first-ever transformation in Ars Goetia’s mortal plane of existence ended up with a humiliating defeat.
“I’m stupid…” Meteos muttered, still in his lying down position several minutes after his transformation was forcibly canceled by his older brother’s roundhouse kick to the face. The Desire Driver and the Zombie Buckle were lying scattered helplessly on his either side.
Legiel, also now in his civilian form, pulled a large whiteboard-like card that he had Meteos wrote his wish before the match had begun from his jacket and nonchalantly burned it with a fire magic, then blew the ashes to the sky.
“Guinevere Pendragon wakes up from her coma.”
As per the rule, Meteos’ wish will be rejected due to his failure in accomplishing the objective: Survive for 3:00.
Legiel watched the embers swirl lazily toward the inky expanse above from the clearing in the forest near their home where they had their match, a flicker of something akin to pity dancing in his blue eyes. “Survive for three minutes, Little Brother,” he said softly. “That’s all it took. Yet you tried too hard to fight to win.”
Meteos flinched as Legiel walked closer and lowered himself onto the grassy forest floor, settling beside him. Picking up Meteos’ discarded Desire Driver and the Zombie Buckle, Legiel gently set them closer to his younger brother.
“The thing is… we are the Four Horsemen. Gods fear us, so when we fight, we win. That’s the only outcome for we are the ultimate constants of all worlds. So, if you think that we will be lenient next time you come again with a wish, I can assure you we will not. We will make sure that you will fail. Every. Single. Time.”
Meteos couldn’t help but flinch again, the words “ultimate constants” echoing in his mind. If this is how it feels like fighting against Pestilence, the youngest, he couldn’t imagine what would be the problem if he decided to fight Death.
“So, Little Brother, I noticed that you are so prone to lost in thought after returning from the hospital visit. Why is Astarte’s happiness your burden, anyway?” Legiel questioned with an eerie curiosity.
Finally, Meteos sat up and shot Legiel a bitter look.
““Why do you care?””
As Meteos blurted out a retort, their mouth moved simultaneously to utter the exact same line.
“Ahaha, so predictable, Little Brother,” Legiel smiled. “You and Amatsu-Mikaboshi really still have much to learn…”
When he saw Meteos’ shoulders slumped, Legiel continued. “You don’t even know the real reason, don’t you? The fact that Astarte’s love is the one who gave you a second chance in this world makes it enough for you to feel obligated to save her to return the favor now that you feel that you can. That’s what really happened.”
“Fine… so, what would that make me, then? A fo—”
“Hope,” Legiel interrupted. “You are a man with Hope, simply as that. What you will need in the future… is that you ‘master thyself.’”
He watched Meteos stew silently and let the silence simmer for a moment, enjoying the chilling wind rustling the leaves around them. Finally, Legiel rose to his feet, brushing fallen leaves off his white jacket, and extended a hand towards Meteos.
“Anyway, home’s a better place for brooding than this place,” he said with a light shrug. “Come on, Little Brother. It’s getting late.”
Meteos stared at the offered hand with a feeling torn by the sting of defeat. Legiel made no effort to make himself less hateful in his eyes, with his mocking words and the effortless way he’d crushed everything he touched. But after storing his equipment, Meteos eventually decided to take his older brother’s hand and stood up with his help. It felt surprisingly warm.
“Grrr… hmph! You really know how to twist the knife, don’t you?” he scoffed as they began walking back to their home, a large manor sitting in the middle of the sparsely populated San Redentore District.
An amused chuckle erupted from Legiel in response.
“I hate you so much, Pestilence…”
“And you are my brother in this world, Meteos Roguerider. I love you.”
It was a very weird situation.
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The Available Information from Beyond
ZOMBIE BUCKLE
[https://img.wattpad.com/a7a081d5245f07b305ae24da03677fe52b5329d5/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f706b4e3846336e7446532d754f513d3d2d313431343130323330362e313761613335303466633936316532663735343932373530363134342e706e67]
The Zombie Buckle is one of the Raise Buckles, devices that can be used with the Desire Driver technology and can be used to grant the user with abilities and weapons unique to each device. A user equipped with a Desire Driver can insert one or two Raise Buckles into either slot of the driver, and activates the Buckle’s activation functionality, initiating the transformation and equipping the user with the specific Raise Buckle’s upper/lower armor. The Zombie Buckle is most compatible with Rogue.
The Zombie Buckle consists of the following parts:
- Waking Key – The Zombie Buckle’s input device. Commands are inputted by turning the key with a twist.
- Boned Gate – The Zombie Buckle’s control device. After being set in the Desire Driver, it releases the Invade Hand by receiving input from the Waking Key.
- Invade Hand – The Zombie Buckle’s startup device. By being released from the Boned Gate, it interferes with the Desire Driver’s Torus Reactor and increases its output.
- Zombie Reactor – Displays the output of the Desire Driver’s Torus Reactor when using the Zombie Buckle.