CHAPTER 479
THE FIRST EMPYREAN (IV)
Qi raged like a storm, pulled in the rapid and wide swirls, forming concentric spirals that rose up and down conically, creating an hourglass-like shape. Colors beyond description danced, blasted off the edges in a smoky manner. The surging winds were both blazing and frigid, rapid and slow, as they traveled for miles onward, consuming the hard rock in their wake.
Lino had no clue as to how Ashtar was controlling the storm. How can a single man command a world-ending amount of energy? Certainly, if let loose, this hourglass-like culmination would be more than enough to swallow both the heavens and the earth. Yet, Lino never once thought the energy was slipping; it was well within his control.
The bright eyes, almost pure white in hue, stared concentrated at the swirl bound with his two hands. The skin on his palms was repeatedly ripped off, healing right after, courtesy of being an Empyrean. Time and again the blood flew outward like rain, binding into the energy as Ashtar made his own. How to usurp the natural energy of the world? Hold it, Ashtar said, and make it your own. Isn’t it already his own, though? Lino pondered but to no avail.
Ashtar cried out all of a sudden, ripping his arms apart as the hourglass-like shape condensed into a spherical shape temporarily. He channeled Qi to flow through every inch of his body, binding the sphere and condensing it further. In Lino's eyes, he was creating a singularity -- something he himself was keen on trying. Warp immense amount of Qi within one's hands and push it further and further down until it collapses unto itself.
The Devil weaved his hands over and under the sphere, like a side-street witch reading future from a crystal ball, though his reasons were hardly theatrical; he weaved Qi with each movement, knitting it in a way, around the sphere, binding it.
“BREAK!!” Ashtar cried out madly as something, deep within his soul, broke. His eyes dulled, the luster vanishing, as wings blew out of his back and circled around him. Smoke trailed from the corners of his lips before his entire body grew encased with it.
Right then, the shadows broke off, forming a mirror image of himself on the other end of the sphere. Ashtar looked up, alarmed, his eyes full of uncertainty.
“--I’ve left a trail of myself in you, Child,” Ataxia’s voice bellowed lowly from within the shadowed figure. “You shall always be an Empyrean, but I cannot devote myself to you no longer. Now, you are bigger than an Archangel, greater than an Empyrean -- you are your own kin, a Devil.”
“--F-father...” Ashtar mumbled lowly, uncertain. Was this the right thing to do? Become someone else entirely?
“Hush,” Ataxia said. “Brave it. Form an army for me, Child. No, you are a child no more. It is high-time I gave you a name.”
“... a name?”
“Ashtar,” Ataxia said. “Henceforth, you shall be known as Ashtar, the Origin Father of Devilkin. Will you serve me proper, Ashtar?”
“... I will, Father.” Ashtar’s expression grew resolute as he knelt all of a sudden, storm of Qi still raging around them, though now lacking the previous color and luster. Gray and black mostly mingled, a few traces of crimson finding their way in there. “Until the day Death takes me.”
“Very well,” Ataxia said as the shadowed figure slowly began vanishing. “Wait patiently until life sprouts, then endow them with your Seed. Give them Power and Strength beyond their understanding. Make me an Army, Ashtar -- one I can proudly display to the world.”
“I will, Father! Good luck!”
**
It must have been days since then, Lino noted as the scene flashed once more. Ashtar stood on the same spot as before, the Qi Storm having disappearing long ago. However, the scars it left were still clearly visible and would be so for a long, long time. Chasms ran one over another, craters spun about, spiderweb-like cracks running across free valleys and hill-rises.
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The world was still quite dark, but less so than before. At the very least, it was possible to distinguish faint edges of pillar-like spires digging their way out of the earth.
“... and thus, I as you know me was born, Lyonel,” Ashtar said. “In your heart, you think a fool was born, no?”
“--I do.” Lino’s voice suddenly bellowed out as he found himself shellshocked, sitting opposite of Ashtar. He was there, yet not; transparent from head to toe, yet himself, not stuck inside the Devil’s head. Ashtar smiled at him faintly, causing Lino to grin back. “Don’t fret; it is rather impressive you stayed a fool for such a long time.”
“... perhaps,” Ashtar nodded. “What does it feel like?”
“What?”
“This is the first time you’ve been Soulcast, I imagine.” Ashtar said. “From the looks of it, though, it is not unpleasant.”
“... strange,” Lino admitted. “But not unpleasant.”
“... your Soul is really powerful,” Ashtar said, looking deeply into Lino’s eyes for a moment before sighing. “Regardless, you surprised us, Lyonel. Truth be told, I’ve given up on you well back in the Umbra Kingdom; you seemed too hotheaded, too rash, too emotionally charged. In a way, I suppose, you still are. And I still think, from the bottom of my heart, you don’t deserve to be here.”
“...” Lino listened, his expression remaining empty for a long while before his lips curled up into a bitter smile. “What’s the alternative then?”
“I know you feel that by caring, you are somehow being different than the cruel, cold world,” Ashtar said. “If anything, though, you are an ignorant kid. Everyone cares.”
“Hardly seems so.” Lino replied quickly.
“... why? Because the ways others care are different than yours?” Ashtar asked, tilting his head slightly. “Because they care for different people? A different future? Because their caring comes between you and your dream?”
“Because their care heralds one war after another,” Lino answered quickly again, his resolve steeled. “Hardly seems worth it.”
“... you have a really hateful view of the war, Lyonel. I never quite understood it; how can an Empyrean hold peace closer to his heart than the raging chaos of war? You would thrive in it, you know.”
“... I don’t care,” Lino shrugged. “All my life I’ve watched what thriving in war and conflict gets us. Whatever fabricated nonsense you old farts believe, I couldn’t care less for it.”
"--this is why you are yet to win, Lyonel," Ashtar chuckled. "Because you despise the very thing that will strengthen you enough to realize your dreams. You chide and berate the war while others embrace it; if you'd do it, too, you'd have long since won by now. Instead, you tip-toe and dance around it, fearing to lose too much, never realizing that you will lose far more in the long run."
“... perhaps,” Lino said after a short consideration. “Perhaps not. It’s easy to chime from the side, indifferent and apathetic. I could do the same, you know? Say you should not have been sweetened into madness, say you should not have been cheated into darkness. But, what’s the point? We are who we are. I’ve changed my fair share, and I suffered the consequences of what you see as my weaknesses. Isn’t that enough?”
"..." Ashtar didn't say anything for a long while, merely staring at Lino's eyes, the latter staring squarely back. "It's never enough, Lyonel. It's never enough. But, alas, our time together has run out." he added with a faint chuckle. "Though I berated you, I still have faith in you; those eyes of yours gleam differently, your mind a spinning gear I bet. My only wish as I forever go is that you won't betray my trust, Lyonel. Complete it. The story."
“...”
Lino said nothing as the world around him began to fade, colors dulling, retreating into far reaches of the void. Soon enough, it had all vanished. He was once again back in the void, surrounded by the perpetual darkness, some few stars alight in the horizon, yet not nearly enough to provide any sort of a worthwhile shine. The sun was distant, hidden behind several round-shaped planets, though managing to pierce some light by their edges.
It was still as cold as he remembered it being. Glancing down, at his hand, he saw that the singularity was no more. Was it worth it? Trading potentially monumental increase in strength for a few answers? He couldn’t say. It was true that he now knew far more than before, but did that knowledge hold any worth? So what if he knew Ashtar was the first Empyrean, and the first Prime? What if he knew it was him who landed on Noterra first, and not the Writs? What if he knew that the barrier Gaia and others were lurking to break was the last remnant of the Silver City?
All that knowledge, now, seemed rather contrived after he had calmed down from the initial shock. Knowledge is indeed priceless, but so was strength, something he’d desperately need soon enough.
He sighed, though no sound came out. It was strange; the whole while that the two fought, he was certain no sound came out -- just a slight whizz at the point of impact, and then nothing. It was strange, fighting in the void. Surrounded by terrible, ever-reaching cold and darkness. Unpleasant.
He glanced back, over his shoulders, and saw the massive Noterra floating freely. Though distant, in his eye it was three times as large as the sun in the void's horizon. It spun unto itself slowly, moving about at the same time. His entire story, his entire world, all that he cared about, was there. On that singular, isolated place in the midst of the infinite void.
Looking at it, his eyes gleamed; he’d sworn he’d forge it anew, and had no plan to waver anymore. Whatever other titles he may be given, he didn’t care. In his heart, he was a smith -- always was. The longer he lived, however, the less time he had to become one with the hammer and one with the flame. How contradictory, he thought as he ripped the space in front of him, ready to return. I love creating, yet trailed down the Path of Destruction... how contradictory indeed...