CHAPTER 446
ORIGIN WAR (III)
The wind whizzed by strongly, causing Amadeel to falter sideways, only recovering a few seconds later and finding himself back in the ranks of the stray Dragons. They were on the losing end – a harsh one. His clothes lay tightly pressed against his body, partly due to sweat and partly due to blood, one of his eyes cut closed, lips trembling involuntarily. There was no hope of victory – he had concluded that already – yet they couldn't simply give up. Too much was at stake.
Still, pointless fighting wasn't a plan; truthfully, they didn't expect to be intercepted with such a large force and had hardly expected the declaration of the Origin War by Two. Few can predict the musings of the maddened mind, and even fewer respond to it in the heat of the moment accordingly. However entwined with madness Lino may be, it was the purposeful kind, the methodic lot – Two had simply gone insane, Amadeel was certain.
His shining eyes rapidly scouted the battlefield, quickly spotting the dashing figure of shadows and light burrowing through the spacetime of reality, orbiting the battlefield as though everything was in the palm of his hands. Lino fought beyond his means, Amadeel knew; he was burning both through Qi and Vitality vigorously, using the finite fuel as though there was a well that never ran out. He cut thousands, yet thousands swarmed further from behind the ranks, closing the gaps.
In a perpetual chase with the Descent, he not only had to deflect the attacks that would cripple even him but also protect as many Dragons as possible. He did not free them to watch them die right after. Even still, he was running out of time. The circle was closing in, and the furthest ranks of their makeshift army were repeatedly pushed further back.
The terrible sounds never ceased, the screams, the sparks of fire, the tides of the water, the shakes of the earth and the wails of the canopy of shadows; it was a symphony of war, one Amadeel had heard many times in his long life. And every time the drums signaled the beginning, only wretched outcomes followed. There would be no victors today even if they managed to flee and reunite with the fortress. There would only be losses that will never be rectified. It was the reality of all wars, be the just or unjust ones.
He slipped slightly backward, avoiding a spearlight that fluttered by him, shearing the spacetime and opening up yet another wound in its make. The spearlight whizzed further, spiking through a young Dragon who immediately drew its last breath and fell to the ocean that could no longer even be called an ocean – for there was no water. Just corpses tacked on top of each other, part of the ever-rising graveyard that would scar even the most hardened men and women of the world.
He was half a mind away from requesting Ella’s help, yet withheld in the end; Lino must have had his reasons as to why he told her not to come out, no matter what. He doubted it was easy for her too – after all, watching so many fall and die whilst being unable to help can't be easy. He would know.
The dashing figure suddenly appeared next to him, startling him slightly; however, the startlement lasted for but a moment before Amadeel lay his eyes on the figure. There was no glory to behold there, no ravaged son of war that was withstanding the world in vain hopes to protect those behind him. There was a man scarred and wounded, bleeding from every end, life in his eyes simmering. He drew quick and short breaths, his right arm, holding onto the Slayer, trembling under the weight of pain. His fingers seemed glued to the handle, as though he feared relaxing them would mean never being able to clasp them tightly again. It was a sorry sight, a complete contrast to what he saw from the distance.
“—L-lino… a-are you alright?” Amadeel stuttered, attempting to reach out with his arm, yet holding himself back in the end as Lino shifted his shadowed frame and faced his eyes.
“I’m fine,” he replied in a choral voice, though one lacking depth and texture Amadeel had come to expect. “But, we are not. Start gathering the Dragons, reunite with Vy, and flee.”
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“H-huh?”
“We are enduring the losses we don’t need to,” he elaborated, shifting forward once more. “At this rate, we’ll have no army to bark with. I’ll draw them onto me. Use that time to gain as much ground as possible. Try to circle them and head toward the shore. Once you reunite with the Fortress, tell Dragons to fuse into the Orbit and phase out.”
“W-what about you?!” Amadeel quickly questioned, afraid Lino would simply disappear.
“… what about me?” Lino glanced at him; though the form of shadows lacked any features besides the pair of eyes, Amadeel could swear he saw a bitter smile entombed in there. “I’ve caused all this, Amadeel. Look around. Look below. Look above. Once more, I fancied myself cleverer than I actually am. And once more others are paying the price for my stupidity. What about me? I’ll fight till I can fight no more and try and escape. Hide. Wait with an abated breath for the day I finally learn my lesson.”
“… no one could have predicted Two would do that, Lino,” Amadeel tried to comfort what he still saw as a very young boy, smiling faintly. After all, it wasn’t a lie. Amadeel himself was most-likely twice as shocked as Lino was when Two declared the Origin War, and twice as that when others embraced it that rapidly. “You can’t put this on your shoulders. This is on her.”
"—we can't blame the madmen for their actions," Lino said, taking a deep breath. "But we can blame ourselves for participating in the madness. Spread around and wait. You'll know when it is time."
He vanished once more, leaving Amadeel tongue-tied; the old man pondered, inwardly, if that was the case, then why is he the only one staying behind? They all enacted the madness. Not just him and the Dragons. The Holy Grounds. The Devils. The other High Lords. Madness is not a circus of one. The world is too large for that to be the case. Yet, why was it that the one always became its figurehead?
Perhaps, Amadeel realized soon after, because of that – Empyreans’ innate understanding of the world itself. Of what draws the eyes of hatred. Of willingness to embody the image of chaos so rapidly and freely.
Lino cleaved over a beam of fire, slicing at the reality with the Slayer, suddenly vanishing into the void; by the time people realized what happened, he was back in tow with over a thousand souls – all youngsters, some not even fifteen – shaking in terror and fear, locked inside a glassed box. The battle, right there, ceased. Amadeel knew it was time.
Yet, even as they began fleeing, no one gave chase. No one even cared they were leaving. After all, in the narrative of the tale that was the Empyrean’s life, the stragglers were irrelevant. Even if they were irreverent.
Lino let go of a heavy breath in his chest as he saw the thinned-out army fading into the horizon without anyone giving chase. Even Two ceased her attacks temporarily, her brows furrowed. Lino himself couldn’t look to his left, couldn’t look to the ugly reflection of himself in the mirror. This was who he has become – someone willing to do the same things he condemned the world for doing. Or, perhaps, he had been such a person all along – but was just unwilling to accept it.
“—Origin War,” he glanced at Two, shadows around his body slowly fading as his human appearance returned. “Your stupidity really amazes me, Elana. For a mind that had seen the ebb and flow of the time, today’s decision has forever condemned your name.”
"You are hardly rhetoric of righteousness, kid." Two smirked faintly. "Aren't you?"
“Why would I try and be?” Lino replied casually. “They’ve sided with you. They’ve fought for you. Should they be exempt from the toils of war just because they weren’t the main perpetrators? You can have the kids,” Lino threw the glassed cage down, with hundreds hurrying over to catch it, rapidly running away from fear he would change his mind. “Killing them wouldn’t change a thing. But, showing you that I can might.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha—" Two broke out into a peal of maniacal laughter as thousands began surrounding her, all eyes shimmering with a peculiar sheen. "You call me stupid, yet you willingly abandon the sole shield you have? After we’re done with you, do you think we’ll let those idiots go? Ha ha ha ha… aah, perhaps we are lucky – that the generational Empyrean is a moron.”
“… all this blood is on us, Two,” Lino crackled lightly, shaking his head. “But when I die, I’ll die in peace. Content. Will you?”
An array of light encompassed him as he vanished, appearing right in front of her; stacks of shields cast out of all-encompassing elements quickly formed in front of Two, blocking his attack. Rather than going through with it, however, a chain-sickle unfurled from Lino's sleeve, lashing to the edge of the stacked shield as he used the momentum to swing and round it, propelling himself in a wide circle around Two and those near her, winding up in front of the main force of Aeonians.
Shadows quickly formed by the folds of his body, consuming his frame once more, as he staggered through the variety of attacks that landed on him, cutting through the shieldbearers upfront and entering the center of the formation. A lotus of death formed once more, blooming rapidly like a flower, showering the world in a cascade of soot, ash, and fire. Cries and screams once more adjoined in the painful symphony that would leave the world scarred for many eons to come. There were no victors on that day. Just tattered and broken branches of a bleeding tree of life.