October 11, 4021 12:44 [Lahab Mutajamid Desert]

“They're really going at it,” Akula remarked in awe at Temujin and Baldwin’s ferocious clash.

“Do not let your eyes wander!” a voice boomed.

Instinctively, Akula leapt back, narrowly avoiding a meteoric collision as a figure crashed into the ground. Plumes of sand billowed in Akula’s eyes as the winds picked up, a harsh gale brewing around them.

“You lack focus. I would think the Homunculi would be more disciplined, yet you strike me as nothing more than fledglings. How do you hope to defeat me with such a paltry display?” Orpheus the Wanderer mocked.

The wind changed course, causing his chiton to press against his chest as his red chlamys fluttered behind him. “If you plan on boring me to death then I’d say your plan is working quite well,” he stated with the same solemn expression, tinkering with the cuffs fastened to his wrists.

Despite Orpheus’ attempt at derogation, it was clear that fighting Akula was the least of his concerns; he was merely fulfilling an obligation to his allies. Still, Akula gnashed his teeth apprehensively. The first attack was simply a courtesy; the next would not be telegraphed so easily. The space between Orpheus and Akula was tense; one false move and Akula’s head would roll.

Around them, chaos reigned, ignited by the flames of war. The other Homunculi had spread out, taking on waves of enemies as Stormcloaks descended upon them. Ice and sand, fire and blood, and the countless Trait abilities that flew across the battlefield left the skies and earth in ruin.

The aerial squad soared overhead, executing evasive maneuvers as they were picked off by anti-aircraft guns from below. Enemy aircraft emerged from the underbellies of Cataclysms, ambushing the fleet using fog screens as cover. The forces of Yuèliàng were whittled down as the skies devolved into a hellish series of dogfights peppering the desert below with chunks of fiery debris.

A flash of green and pink flitted in the corners of Akula’s eyes, taking to the skies to assist the aerial unit, though he didn’t dare take his eyes off of Orpheus again. He maintained a fixed gaze on his enemy, the low thud of his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums.

Skadi’s Garuda armor came into view. She kept the Stormcloaks at bay as Dot’s Lancer, Safe//Hack, tore through squadrons of enemy aircraft. They made headway, beelining towards the Cataclysms. On the shoulder of the pink Lancer stood Slump, snapping his fingers wildly. A slew of explosions rocked the ships as they wreaked havoc against the flying fortresses.

“Your people are dangerous,” Orpheus muttered, scowling. “I should be up there helping.” He flexed his hand, staring at Akula impatiently. “I’ll end this quickly, for your sake and my own.”

The hairs on Akula’s neck stood on end; a violent aura suddenly enveloped the area. His breath turned shallow as his heart began to pound even harder against his chest. He attempted to swallow but his mouth was parched, and his throat dry. Akula grinned nervously, clenching his fist as he stood tall against the Herald of Judgement.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Then let us put an end to this,” Orpheus replied.

“Yes, let’s. Less yapping, more—”

Akula was blown back by what felt like a cinder block to the sternum. Orpheus slammed his palms together, parting the sands. The force had sent a devastating ripple of wind in Akula’s direction, knocking him over.

He recovered quickly, spinning around and shooting shards of blood, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Orpheus brushed the attack aside, unamused. Gritting his teeth, Akula rose to his feet, coating himself in Shakti. More shards of blood rose from the ground, trembling behind him as he took aim.

“That isn’t going to work,” Orpheus remarked.

“Maybe, but if I can slow you down even a little bit it’ll be worth it,” Akula huffed.

“I seriously doubt that,” the Herald said, shaking his head.

“Just try me!” Akula yelled, throwing his arms forward.

A vortex of blood shards rained down upon Orpheus, kicking up a dust storm. The Herald effortlessly pushed the shards back with a flick of his wrist once again.

“I wouldn’t put so much stock in such a—” He paused, swiveling his head. Akula had disappeared. “Where—”

A fist of red emerged from the storm, connecting with the side of Orpheus’ face. The Herald staggered momentarily, surprised. He tenderly touched the gash that had formed on his cheek.

“There’s a lot more where that came from,” Akula grimaced, clutching his chest.

The corners of Orpheus’ mouth twitched. “Quick thinking, but the execution was lacking.”

“Everybody’s a critic,” Akula scoffed.

Orpheus paid no heed to his words, lunging at him. Akula braced himself for the impact, wincing as one of his radii snapped under the force of Orpheus’ strike. The attack broke through his blood guard, sending him soaring above the battlefield, past the clouds.

The world spun around him as he tried to orient himself, catching a glimpse of his comrades below. Kafka, Gauss, and Anari formed a circle around Ghost and Aisha, acting as a barrier from the horde of incoming Machina as Aisha worked feverishly to repair Anari’s Lancer.

Kafka and Gauss released their strikes in tandem, purple orbs of convergence drawing in their enemies in order for spiraling drills of black to lay waste to the machines and the anti-aircraft turrets of the mobile fortresses.

Akula grimaced. This can’t go on any longer. I can’t just slow him down. I need to end this! He steeled his nerves, closing his eyes and placing his palms together. He was in free fall with only seconds to spare before he plummeted to his death. At this height, even he would perish. And if he managed to survive somehow, he had no doubt Orpheus would be waiting for him below to finish the job.

He furrowed his brow, concentrating on the intricacies of his desired outcome. He had an image in mind—a weapon to fashion—one which he believed would turn the tables in his favor. Piece by piece, particle by particle, his vision became reality, and all the while he continued to descend.

As the final piece fell into place, Akula’s eyes fluttered open. He pulled his hands apart, giving form to a tempered blade, its crimson hue burning malevolently. “Come get some, you bastard!” he exclaimed.

Orpheus obliged, leaping into the sky and leaving behind a crater-sized divet in the sand. Akula brought down his blade with his full might, connecting with the blanket of pressurized air shielding Orpheus.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

They battled across sky and earth, narrowly avoiding ballistae as it rained down from the Cataclysms onto the desert. Screams of agony and fear echoed in their ears. Burning flesh and bloodied earth were all Akula could smell as he fought for his life against a man who seemed as if he could move the very heavens themselves.

Orpheus molded the air around them, his attacks sending ripples throughout the atmosphere. Air and sand collided, forming towering waves of coarse matter that swept up soldiers in an endlessly shifting plane.

“Submit! You only prolong your suffering by resisting! Trust that I shall make your death swift!” Orpheus proclaimed. “Better yet, if you and your friends surrender, I shall spare your lives!”

“Like I would believe you! Fuck you, if you think I’m going to give up that easily! I’ll fight through the depths of Hell before I let you touch a hair on their heads! I made a promise!” Akula yelled, driving his blade deep into the Herald’s shoulder.

Orpheus shouted in pain, clenching his jaws as he seethed with rage. Without turning his head, he outstretched his good arm behind him. His hand trembled, grasping at something Akula could not quite see.

The Herald clenched his fist suddenly, wrenching asunder the glacial peak of the mountain in the distance. A guttural shriek escaped his throat as he leaned forward, hurling the enormous chunk of ice at his opponent.

Frost returned to the dunes as Akula pulled back, cleaving the glacier into pieces with vicious slashes from his blade. “That fucking ability of yours is a pain in the ass!” he grimaced, panting as he landed back on the ground.

Orpheus descended to his level, adjusting the cuffs on his wrist. “I have Levante to thank for the technology,” he stated. “The power to manipulate waves as I see fit. I can change the pressure of the atmosphere and the frequency at which sound travels. The amplification and nullification of these waves extends beyond just air, however, as you’ve seen.” He frowned, balling his fists. “All of this was avoidable. This bloodshed was completely unnecessary. Yet you insisted on attacking regardless!”

Akula sighed, stabbing his blade into the sand and resting his arms on the hilt. “I get what you’re saying. Frankly, I agree with you. I didn’t exactly volunteer for this—many of us didn’t. But what we believe should happen is far different than what will happen. This conflict was inevitable. No matter how long we try to avoid it, the end result is the same. Sooner or later the Virya of the Triumvirate or Yuèliàng would have run out and we would both still be standing here. Only one side is coming out on top. There’s no two ways about it. There simply isn’t enough energy or perishable resources for everyone. Something’s gotta give.”

Orpheus shook his head, frustrated. “You’re right, but I don’t want to believe that’s the only option.”

“You could always try your luck out west,” Akula suggested.

“That would require convincing Baldwin,” Orpheus chuckled. “The man is stubborn, but he has the best interest of his people at heart. He wouldn’t risk their lives on a rumor. Those lands are untamed as far as we know.”

“He’s risking their lives here. What difference does it make?”

“They are willing to die for this land and their beliefs. To flee now would be to spit in the face of their resolve. If the worst comes to transpire…my people will follow me. They are proud, but they are not foolhardy. Resilient and resourceful, we will brave the dangers ahead wherever we go—even the wilds of the Western Continent,” Orpheus replied confidently.

“So why stay? Why not leave right now?” Akula tried reasoning.

Orpheus shook his head once more. “It is a matter of loyalty and honor. We are not snakes to abandon our allies in their time of need. Our oath shall be upheld till they perish. After that, I shall tend to the needs of my people.”

“Honor isn’t everything,” Akula remarked, pivoting off of the hilt of his blade. He shook the sand from its tip, brushing stray granules from cracks in the flat of the blade and chips on the edges. “I admire the cowards. They’re tenacious; solely focused on self-preservation. You know what they all have in common?”

“What, pray tell?” Orpheus raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“They tend to live. It’s the idiots who throw themselves into battle under the guise of honor and fealty that expire the quickest,” Akula answered, pointing his blade at Orpheus.

“Someone has to uphold those ideals,” Orpheus stated as the air around him began to warp.

“Doesn’t mean it has to be you. Ideals mean nothing in the face of survival. Only when our existence isn’t threatened do these values hold weight. It’s a house of cards built on complacency. It all comes crashing down once you throw peace out the window. Besides, we’re all just a bunch of fucking animals anyway,” Akula said grimly.

“Then bare your fangs, because only one of us is leaving here alive,” Orpheus stated calmly.

No further words were exchanged as the two bolted towards each other, colliding with earth-shaking force. They fought like ravenous beasts, their violent clash blowing sand and frost outward. Akula conjured shard after shard of blood, throwing everything in his arsenal at the Herald. He could feel the excessive use of Shakti starting to catch up with him, draining him of his strength. His organs burned as his body began to consume itself from the inside.

Orpheus swatted away the shards with ease once again. He pivoted forward, shattering Akula’s blade with a single punch. Sand, ice, earth, and sky—the landscape suddenly became a blur for Akula’s widening eyes as the Herald proceeded to throw him across the battlefield.

Akula could hear an audible snap come from his left shoulder as Orpheus sent him crashing into the mountain. Fragments of stone pierced his flesh, tearing apart his muscles. He had only a moment to process the injury before Orpheus descended upon him, grabbing him by the throat and tossing him towards the Agrius.

As Akula landed on top of the enormous ship, Orpheus landed beside him, kicking him swiftly in the ribs. The force sent him through one of the masts and into the opposing rail guards, bending the metal and causing him to lie precariously over the edge.

The Agrius was larger than the average Cataclysm, easily dwarfing the standard fleet, and comfortably outclassing the other two Triumvirate Cataclysms. It had ample room to move about, though Akula did not feel like moving much more. His body ached. The extent of his wounds hadn’t fully set in yet, staved off by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But his mind knew. He would crumple into a broken pile of flesh any minute now. He would have to make his final moments count.

“Out of every Herald you chose to face, you certainly picked the worst, Homunculus,” Orpheus pointed out. “You would have fared better against the other kings.”

“The results would have been the same,” Akula grunted, rising to his feet shakily. “I’m not strong enough to protect anyone, let alone myself.”

Orpheus shook his head. “You fought well, warrior, but the difference between us is too great. I am like a sword sharpened by whetstone, and you are like a dull knife.”

“That’s hardly a compliment,” Akula chuckled, weakly. The simple act of standing was putting more strain on his body than he could handle.

Orpheus scratched his head looking remorseful. “My apologies, I was never the most tactful. I’ve been told I’m too blunt.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Orpheus shook his head again, sighing. “I’ll miss our conversation. I’ve only just met you, but I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime.” He dragged his hand down his face, revealing a sickened expression as if he had taken ill. “I think we both know how this ends.”

“Perhaps,” —Akula grimaced— “But I’ll be the one to choose how I go out,” he growled.

He mustered up the remnants of his waning energy. Pooling together Orpheus’ dripping blood and his own, he coated his hand in fiery crimson. Orpheus nodded, accepting Akula’s challenge and they lunged at each other one last time.

The impact of their fists devastated the upper deck of the Agrius, ripping apart pieces of the Cataclysm’s hull in the process. The supports of the ship began to crack as neither fighter yielded.

“You never stood a chance. I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Orpheus spoke softly. Even amongst all the chaos, somehow his words reached Akula’s ears. “Rest easy knowing you did all that you could to protect your people. Should we win, I will see to it that no harm will befall those who surrender.”

“I still don’t believe you. Just because we had a chat doesn’t mean we’re buddies all of a sudden. You’re still my enemy,” Akula croaked.

“I’m a man of my word.”

The Herald’s power finally overwhelmed Akula. He could no longer hold him back. Flesh was torn from bone.

Akula’s vision slipped in and out of focus as he pieced together what had happened, a guttural shriek escaping his lips. He clutched his wound tightly, attempting in vain to stem the blood flow as he watched his severed arm fall to the earth.

Orpheus raised his hand solemnly. “Your suffering will not be prolonged any further. May you find peace in the afterlife,” he finished, bringing his hand down upon Akula’s neck.