Mhaieiyu

Arc 2, Chapter 1

Those Borne of Tainted Blood

That bastard angel had no wings. He wouldn't know how to use them. That bastard angel had no halo. He hadn't the intellect to harness it. And what a waste it would've been.

The ‘Guardian’; also known as the ‘Celestial Guardian’. His or her existence was inevitable no matter what anyone did. When the current holder fell, another would soon sprout from the love of two unfortunate Celestials. At least through birth, the inheritance of power would seem somewhat natural. Nothing pleases a parent more than knowing their child was cursed with a chopped up lifespan as punishment for being born. But that's what it meant to be the Guardian. To be a saviour. To be the supposed good side of the world's defender. If they didn't expire sooner, their tainted blood would deceive them and lay waste to anything and everything that ever has and ever will matter, like a delicate reset button lingering in the ever-repairing flesh of these God-forsaken individuals. It was this that made sacrifice necessary.

What a weight on one's shoulders. You'd have to have quite the fortitude to tolerate it. Especially considering the risk of their being alive and out in the open, and the expectations of those around you. Not just friends and familiars. There were thousands, if not millions, that would depend on and believe in the Guardian. Oh, what a show. What a lovely heroic life for one to live. To be cursed knowing you will perish sooner than your peers, yet at the same time losing the right to die when you're in agony. How humbling. How appealing. Of course, those around you wouldn't understand. The concept of pain applied to mortals; it kept them alive. But not Guardians. They were 'immortal'. So why the hesitation? After all, you can't die, so why are you complaining?

Not all was bad, though. Guardians did outlive most of the wingless, so they can rest assured knowing they'd get to watch a couple happy and satisfied generations come and go. People loved the Guardian. They always did. A little Celestial gifted with the strength to bear the whole world on their shoulders. Just magical.

But Emris wasn't born. He was made. Crafted, put together. Stitched up and given form. An artificial soul whose body had to be imitated from another just to gain form. Emris, the Fifty-Seventh Guardian, was an excuse of one. His very birth mimicked the First, who was sent down by Victus herself. To copy the acts of a Goddess was disrespectful enough, and by the Saintess, did they mess it up.

"Get up! Victus, you're a fuckin' wimp, kid. You aren't helping jack shit if that's all you can pull."

What a disappointment.

"By the Goddess, Emris! You were meant to defeat your tutor, not disfigure him!"

Has he ever truly been sorry?

"Do you have any idea… what I've sacrificed just so you could lounge around with the earth-trodders?!"

Such Sloth. Such Pride.

"You know, it's hard to take your word seriously when you're a Sin yourself."

And just where did it lead to?

"Emris, I don't know how to tell you this…"

Of course, it was easiest for him.

"I really, truly am sorry for you."

And so, he chose what was most convenient for himself. It would've been better had he simply never come to be.

"Daddy…?"

But how could you blame him? He was just doing that which we all do. He was living. The problem was, he was living a lie. A lie, because he was too selfish not to exist.

The howls and whistles of the wind had been going on uninterrupted for a while now on their trek home. Corvus looked down, understanding that speaking now wasn't right. Emris' skin shook, and the canteen in his hand wobbled as he clutched it.

Emris wheezed, covering his mouth as he gave a violent cough. Corvus handed him a handkerchief, and the brig wiped his lips.

"Ah, right. Did I kill the bloke?" Emris asked, giving the Celestial a look as they walked.

"No. Was it your intention?" Corvus said.

"Nay, nay." The veteran waved a wrist, looking off to the north. "I lost control back there. Glad ye stopped me."

"In all fairness, I'd have failed to hold you back if Eclipse hadn't intervened. You were right. The army has lost their spine. Nobody else tried."

"They didn't try 'cause they've no incentive to. Bet they were pissed too, oy…"

Corvus looked forward, choosing not to butt his opinion in.

Emris chuckled, raising his shoulders and palming the air. "But aye, their balls are off. Godawful fightin', the lot. What happened to all the trainin'?" he said, shaking his head. "I owe that lad an apology, mind. Looked miserable before I bust his chest."

The angel sighed, his lips curling up.

"Yes, that's a minimum. Your wages'll be docked for that."

The two shared a hearty laugh; Emris was especially amused. They'd just passed the wall dividing the Hub from No Man's Land. Few personnel guarded the gates after the retreat.

"Ye know I don't give a shite for dirt paper," Emris said.

"Mm, but it would keep you from robbing places. You're not entitled to stuff, you know," the Celestial reprimanded, smacking the back of the veteran's head.

"Agh! Shush. If ye don't wanna get nicked, get tougher!" Emris grumbled, seeing the behemoth structures of society far into the horizon. "Folk are lucky these days. Back a few it was survival of the fittest. Now we've got pigs runnin' us like workhorses."

Corvus sniggered quietly to himself. "You aren't that old. Vicks…"

Soon enough, the road turned from sand to dirt, and then grass. Trees started to blot out the sun, giving the weary soldiers respite.

Looking up with his hands behind his head, Emris noted how far up the sun had travelled.

"Oi," the brig said, "How long was I out?"

Corvus shook his wings of sand. "Two or three hours."

"Vicks, and ye sat through that?"

"The military cleared off in half that time, so I had company for a while. Somebody had to make sure you didn't get lost or die — whatever that would mean."

Emris' eyes dimmed a bit. "And the uh… When ye saw him, what'd ye do?"

Corvus looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "Cut him down. Sorry, but seeing it unnerves me…"

"No need to apologise. I think ye did right. I hope."

"Mm, I do too. Eclipse says 'you're welcome'."

Stomping his boot suddenly, the veteran growled and spat, "For slashin' me lungs open?!"

In so little time, the Facility had filled back up with the good lot of troops still disposed of and was back in normal order. Almost. While standard functionality had been restored, and work continued, there was a tense air lingering in the entirety of the establishment's workforce.

Whether you loved him, hated him or stood somewhere in between, losing Alpha—and thereby their Head of Men—as well as their General could spell disaster for their soon future. Managing a good portion of the country's assets and demands while simultaneously maintaining the respect years fought to earn from their civilians, the Syndicate was hard-pressed with one—potentially two—of its highest authorities gone. But civilians weren't the biggest issue right now. It was a roll of a dice when the Crimsoneers would knock the gates.

Sixteen doctors littered a large white room as they worked unflinchingly to preserve a single life. If Alpha, or Barbatos, were to pass away now, so many would surely bear the pains of it. Even the doctors themselves, assuming the Reds did tear the place apart. The event was tragic, really. It was sad seeing such a noble and kind figure pale and suffer. Of all the Heads to ever be remembered, he might not have been the most efficient, but he surely loved his people the most.

Doors swung open left and right as the doctors exchanged equipment and monitored his condition. Of all the people working, one never caught a break. He never left Alpha's side, instead asking for the tools he needed from his coworkers. And of course he would; he was the most prestigious doctor this Facility had to offer. It just so happened that Alpha was a friend of his.

Fely, the Head of Medicine. An excellence of his work and master coordinator of his field. And even he looked exhausted. Fely literally hadn't stopped since the man arrived in a wheeled bed. So many times his coworkers offered to take his place, but that smile of his kept them calm. The bags under his eyes seemed to disappear when he smiled like that.

With nothing more to do, and every inch of Alpha's wounds thoroughly cleaned, treated and bandaged, Fely sat up, ignoring his aching back and taking the pseudo-royal's hand.

His expression was miserable whenever the others looked away. He had seen Alpha in many a deplorable state, but he had always opened his eyes at some point. The king would always reassure him, even during treatment, that everything was well and good. It didn’t keep him from working at his best, but it motivated him with something other than panic and pressure. Fely hated panicking.

Three soldiers walked in, all bodyguards. One of them wore standard armour in place of his Nynx suit, his facial features hidden under an old helm.

"Sir, we need a situation report."

"That's Head of Medicine to you," Fely said as a mediocre joke. His lack of sleep definitely hadn't prepared him for this. "He's burning up, but he's stopped bleeding. He's not showing any signs of getting up but he's breathing…" Fely's voice trailed off as he spoke, almost whispering by the end of his sentence. Two of the guards looked at each other. "Ah, his brain is showing little activity, but it's there. I think he might be dreaming. Hah, how nice…!"

"Mister Fely, sir. You need rest."

"I'll…!" the doctor raised his voice a bit much. He cleared his throat, calming down. "I'll decide when I've had enough, thank you. It's okay, I'll survive."

"Understood, but… we need to tell the people something."

"Hmhm, tell them he's alive. It's all they need to hear."

The guards bowed, leaving the room. The one without a Nynx suit lingered behind, and when he reached the door, he turned back.

"Will he be okay, doctor?"

Fely lifted his head and gave one of those heartwarming, sickly grins. "I'll do everything I can, soldier. I promise."

With a nod, the last of the three left the room. Fely sighed, looking down at the sleeping king.

The doctor felt the minutes pass by as the clock ticked. With Alpha's health stabilised, the fifteen other doctors around him gradually cleared off to other dire patients, with the occasional pair walking for a few seconds. Fely grew weary, almost slipping into sleep when a commotion outside stirred him. Peering his eyes at the door Fely found a giant squeezing his way through while pushing two medical staff off him.

"Saintess above, piss off! It's like they don't know I'm top brass anymore!" It was Hephaestus. Seeing him soothed Fely, who could immediately adopt a more relaxed tone.

"I see you're still this place's communal pain in the neck," Fely joked, but not without a sniffle.

"Urgh, tell me about it," the blacksmith said, taking a seat on the opposite side of Alpha's bed. "How's fatso doing?"

"Well, he's seen better days, hasn't he?" Fely said, tracing a palm over the old man's face.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Where'd he get pinched?" Hephaestus asked.

"Around his leg. A good portion of his hip was blown. It was an honest shot, at least."

Hephaestus raised a brow. "Ducasse?"

Fely nodded. "Mm, so I'm told.”

“Prick.”

“Is that for me?" The physician had noticed a basket Hephaestus failed to hide.

"It was meant to be a surprise, dick. But eh, figured you'd need it. Blood sugar and all that."

The doctor lightened up at his generosity, exchanging the basket for a packet of pills. “There. For being such a sweetheart,” Fely teased.

The giant groaned, looking at the pack with skepticism. The head physician must’ve noticed.

“Don’t fret. They’re not hard drugs. Your throat sounds awful,” Fely said.

“Comes with being a Gygantes,” Hephaestus said in a huff, downing the pills but not before taking a look at his leader’s sleeping self. “Man isn’t getting up, huh.”

Fely’s eyes widened. It only took him a glance. “Don’t… Don’t be so fatalistic, Head of Arms. We need higher spirits than——”

“If he dies, I quit.”

“Hephaestus!”

The Gygant stared at the ceiling as the pills fell down his throat. “What? Want me to sit in a garage until I wither forever? It’s tough enough as it is; if Alpha’s gone, I’m through.”

The sound of grinding teeth alerted Hephaestus.

“Do you have to say that at a time like this? People need you and they need you now more than ever. What you should do is hold a little more optimism for the man and shush those thoughts for crying out loud!” Fely said.

The giant’s brows furrowed. “I’m being realistic. Come on, I get what you’re saying, but there’s no point in assuming everything will be alright. Situation’s fucked. It’s fine and dandy to pretend things’ll be a-okay, but if you’re not prepared for the worst of it, you’re shooting yourself in the foot.”

The Gygantes said this all with a casual air as if he had had this conversation a dozen times before. He didn’t seem too disturbed at Alpha’s condition; doing little more than cringe at the damage with the sentimental value of a stranger seeing the state of another after being run over.

Fely’s head lowered. “I just… never wanted this cycle to fall apart, is all…”

Hephaestus hummed. “Kev is dead, Fely. It’s already broken to an extent.”

The Head of Medicine looked away from the oversized ‘man’, still detached from the reality of their predicament. He knew things would become dire but he wasn’t prepared for it.

With nothing more to say, the seat creaked as Hepheastus stood, his back arched from its many years of slouching, before walking out of the room.

Fely looked at the basket brought to him. For once, muffins didn’t look too appetising. Instead, he took the x-ray under the mattress into his shaking hands. Fely’s eyes scanned over the miniscule pieces of shrapnel embedded in the patient’s head.

"Please," he whispered. "Get up soon, sir."

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

The body of the sleeping teenager slumped in the arms of the strange, cloaked man; his hair drooped past his head and his bruised yet tender eyes closed softly. The footsteps the man echoed in the silent neighbourhood weren’t alone, as he was followed by a boy and a dog. Chloe remained shocked, her eyes wide as she stared at the dust she trod upon. The boy looked no less disturbed but maintained his composure if anything due to a life lived with similar terrors. This man was merely an emphasis on that terror.

“Why take the kid back?” Mumble asked lowly, rightfully dubious.

The man with the fake smile sighed amusedly. “Sanctimonious is he who pretends to save only to leave the weak to waste in filth. Samaritan is they who take the saved and nurse them to health.”

“You killed so many people,” Chloe said, tremoring.

“Indeed, but it saddens me to be reminded. So stop that,” Noire said. “Why are you two following me?”

“He saved my life. And I don’t trust you with his.”

“That’s reasonable. And you, child?”

“I ain’t a kid no more. I wanna know who this asshole thinks he is,” Mumble grumbled.

Noire raised a brow at him. “ 'Not a kid anymore'? Interesting you say that. Regardless, he stood for you when your fate was sealed. He undid that fate for you; how merciful of him.”

“Yeah. It’s exactly that kinda bullshit I ain’t buyin’. Bubs that do that don’t do it for free, ya know.”

“So you want to repay him?”

“Th’ fuck?! No! I need to teach ‘em some manners. Hero complexes get ya nowhere. Ever. Why the fuck would he wanna be some saviour? I’ll teach ‘em. I’ll teach the snivelling little shit to stop wastin’ his life on shit like that,” Mumble ranted, taking a handful of dirt and crushing it between his fingers.

“Ah, I see...”

“See fuckin’ what?”

“Even filth breeds humanity. You just have to scrub off the muck.”

Chloe’s brows furrowed. “Did you just call… He’s a pup, and you called him fifth? There in front of him?”

“It’s aight, I know where I stand. Pompous shitheads… We didn’t all get god powers like you,” Mumble said, turning away from the man out of fear. Even in his cowardice, he couldn’t resist his speech. Such gave his title of ‘Pride’.

“That may be so, but I don’t understand where he stands. What is your purpose in doing this? Why go to these lengths? Why won’t you just leave us be?” Chloe said.

“I am leaving you be. My only business is with him. It’s your choice to accompany me,” Noire said.

“You aren’t giving me a choice! The odds I’ll survive the trek without him are——”

“There’s no need to lie; you would survive just as well on your own. Mankind without tools, wit, nor knowledge is useless to protect you. They don’t stand a chance against you. Against your kind, equals, similars, and much less superiors.”

Chloe was silenced as quick as a vice on her throat.

The look on her face pleased Noire, who gave her a sadistic grin. “Deceit is no true Sin, but it leads down a much worse path than those of the Manifestations. Let that strike deep within you and never forget it.”

“Th’ shit’s that supposed to mean? An’ that’s not the only thing she asked, jackass. Say somethin’——!” Mumble shouted, his breath hitching as a sharpened stone hovered in front of his eyes.

“Getting awfully comfortable, aren’t you?”

“Right, right. My bad… Put that away, aight?” the Urchin pleaded, his hands raised. Noire nodded, allowing the weapon to fall to the ground.

“Good. I don’t much care for displays of dominance, but I’m not above it either. As for the canine’s inquiry, my fate and desires mystify even me.” The man in Syndie robes gave a sudden, manic giggle, his voice shuddering. “Truth be told, I don’t feel like myself these days. Do you ever get that feeling? A roach beneath the skin, skittering about inside you where it can’t be seen or impeded, eating away at your flesh and sense of self until everything you are is reduced to rot——”

Chloe looked at the madman ramble on, too terrified to act. When she turned to Mumble she saw that he too was awestruck by the severe state of his mind. It would take them a good hour or two to get back to the Syndicate. A long walk it would surely be.

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

The hands dragging over the veteran’s face made the sound of touching leather. A crowd of soldiers, strategists, office workers and even maintainers brimmed the lounge as the notice was put out after hours of anticipation. Several people moaned in dissatisfaction from its vagueness.

‘The Lord and guide of our Syndicate, Head of Men Alpha, has reportedly succeeded in surviving his wounds. He will be indisposed and inaccessible until further notice. Please stand by.’

Tension was high and the silence grew. The novices and inexperienced had witnessed true battle after years of becoming the majority since the previous battle’s losses, and after a decade since the last Crimson onslaught. Morale started to degrade and fear had begun to consume the fragile minds of the lessers and the uncalloused. The Head of Men stood for the whole of the Facility’s innerworkings; to the extent even the highest elders amidst the strategic teams could do nothing to calm the workforce’s uneasiness. The other Heads could only barely soothe their breaths. He or she who led all men stood so far atop those below — seldom in arrogance. A figurehead of brotherhood. Such was how the Syndicate was conducted from its most humble beginnings in an infested alley.

The Sixth Brigadier looked especially tense; his old age helped no-one. Willow had spent a good few years unfit for outside combat, and so he was forced to reduce his service to mentorship indoors. When battle stirred, he would be forced to sit and pray. And pray he did.

“Good Goddess, find it in your will… If he dies now——” Willow stammered on, burying his head in his intertwined fingers and cradling it.

“Hey, put some faith in the Head doctor, sir,” a Colonel, Willow’s subordinate, said. “I’ve known that man to pull people right out the grave. Alpha’ll live.”

“He’s in his last years, man. Spare me the roses,” Willow said, shaking his head.

“Sir, it’s best we take you back to your room.”

The Brigadier breathed deeply. His hands were shaking. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. Let us depart. I think I need a rest.”

“You didn’t get enough sleep sir.

“It seems I didn’t.”

The glass door was pushed open suddenly, and in came two men. One had wings and wore the most fashionably strange material, the other wore a decrepit, grey leather coat.

Willow whipped his arm away from the Colonel’s grasp. “Never mind. A bollocking’s in order.”

“Sir——”

“You!” Willow shouted, garnering the attention of some as he stomped over to Emris’ space. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you, man?! Had another drink then?!”

The Third Brigadier didn’t stop until Willow grabbed him. He had wanted to ignore him. He knew he was among the angriest workers this place had to offer.

“Ye’re proddin’ a bull, ‘mate’,” Emris snarled, already losing patience.

“You’re the Guardian you tit!” A harsh slap seared Emris’ face. “Where the blazes were you when Alpha was shot?!”

Emris convulsed, holding back the urge to lunge. Corvus wished to intervene, but was stopped by a Mynotaur curious of the outcome.

The Guardian raised a twitching brow. Willow was having none of it.

“Lyperd caught your tongue? Explain!” Most were watching the two now.

“He was shot by Ducasse. There’s a no-interference law.”

Emris was grinding his teeth on each word he spoke, and yet the older veteran pushed on. “Old rules for fools, Emris! Alpha’s life comes first. What do you think would happen if we lost him?!”

“He ain’t dead.”

“He could be. And then what? We all scurry home and hope the wolves don’t blow our house down? We’re done for!”

Silence drowned the room as all present turned to face them. Emris’ eyes, lips, nose, brows, cheeks spasmed. He came so close to snapping when a soldier, the Colonel from earlier, stepped between them. Willow had started coughing from his dried throat and leaned on the young man’s outstretched arm. Emris exhaled a frustrated breath and turned away, but before he could walk, the brig spoke up again.

“How many fingers of his did you break?”

“C’mon, sir. Now’s no time to argue,” the soldier said.

“None,” Emris said. “I’d have crushed him under my boot. But he stopped me.”

Willow looked at the Guardian. “Who?”

The veteran closed his eyes and breathed, his head swaying. “Alpha him-fuckin’-self.”

“Saintess Victus…”

“Aye. Cuts deep, ah? Imagine what I felt like. So cut the shite. Ye’re me lesser.”

The Colonel raised his gaze to meet the ferocious eyes of the bastardised soul before him. “With all respect, why speak if that’s your best answer, sir?”

Willow took a breath through his nose. "You made a habit of standing up to your superiors and ignoring their authority every single day. And yet… No. That’s alright, Jeremiah,” the old man said. “You can expect little more from the likes of he.”

Emris’ eyes widened, turning to face him. “Shite’s that supposed to mean?”

Flashing Emris the accursed smile of an ape, Willow hissed, “Rotten, tainted fucking blood.”

With a single swipe, the Colonel was thrown to the floor as Emris ripped Willow off his feet, producing a rough and stuttered groan as he was lifted up so quickly.

“Say that again, ye son of a bitch! Say it!”

The ambience erupted into a shower of shouts as the workers struggled to loosen Emris’ grip. His fingers were unbendable, even to the strongest of the lot. A Mynotaur, Bruttus, stumbled through to him from the other side of the room.

“Emris, unhand him now!” Corvus said, hand on his scabbard.

The Guardian shot him a quick look, but he was too focused on Willow. Both of their mouths bared teeth; Emris was almost foaming, his fist raised and ready to pummel. The two veterans would stare at each other for what felt like hours before the lumbering bull pulled the two apart, letting Willow land on his heels and fumble.

With nothing more to say, Emris huffed, turning in the opposite direction of where he’d been going and walked right out the glass door. It took him a few minutes to get out of the Facility and onto the driveway. Corvus tailed behind him, exasperated at his display.

“Victus, what was that, Emris?” the angel said, dragging his palms over his face.

Reaching close to a jeep, the veteran turned around and stuck a finger Corvus’ way. “Ye heard the shitter. Ye heard what he said.”

“We’re all on edge. You didn’t have to react like that! He went too far, yes, but there’s no need to take things to such extremes each time, man!”

“Sod it. I’m out.”

“Out where?!”

“I’m headin’ into town. Somebody has to warn the girl.” Emris pushed a key into the car door.

“Emris, she won’t want to see you. Not if you’re like this,” Corvus warned.

“I know, aight? I’ll… I’ll give it a spin until I cool off.”

The Celestial sighed, gripping his face. “Let me join you.”

“Nay. Rest up. This is personal.”

“You’ll cock it up…”

“I won’t! Now get in there and sleep.”

“Brigadier, sir,” a new voice called. Emris recognised it, stopping himself right as he opened the door. It was him. He whose Nynx suit had been ruined.

Emris put his head against the steel. “Oi, so ye are alive. Congrats.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nay, just don’t like seein’ a half-done job. Glad I didn’t kill another one of my own.”

The bodyguard sighed. “So you would’ve liked me a goner?”

Emris popped his head up to look at him. “Why’d ye call me, shrimp?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Emris waved a hand, shaking his head. “Aye, aye. Look, I’ll apologise when I get back. I need somethin’ done now and time ain’t on our side——”

“It’s not that. Do you mind if we go somewhere quiet?”