What are Seers? Psions?

Beyond their capabilities, I don’t know. Records say they existed since the dawn of even humanity, the eldest space-farers. But where do they come from? In who do they awaken?

Is it fate? Chance? A stroke of impossibility? Who knows.

All we know is that Seers are too wise to risk, and Psions are too clever for their own good. A wonderous thing I am the latter.

* The scribbled notes upon Praetor Pathos’s office wall.

Daylight streamed through the window, forcing Dante’s eyes open and pulling him from his slumber. The cold, metallic air lingered on Dante’s tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sunlight piercing through the room. Groaning, he awoke, momentarily stunned by the dawn, but then he noticed the lack of noise.

No birds. No cars. No starships. Just silence. Just an empty world. The silence of the dead city pressed in on him, amplifying the sound of his own breath, his own heartbeat. It was almost unbearable.

Worse yet, he had to work with the being that caused it all. While gnashing his teeth, Dante pushed himself up from the extravagant bed, the fine linens clinging to his skin, thereafter spreading out his arms to stretch. As he did so, Dante noticed he felt terrific. Excellent, in fact. If he were to guess, he was in the best shape of his life.

How? He had almost perished the last time he was awake.

Dante clenched his fist. The memory of the Hydro burst was still fresh, the power still there. He just had to find it once more. It was the very same attack that managed to actually damage Thanaris. It was slight. Nevertheless, it existed.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his hand trembled as he flexed it into a fist, for he knew he was not without hope. That moment, seeing his power affect the Caesar, a Caesar, changed everything. He had proof—he could hurt them. The odds were still terrible, but for the first time, he knew there was a way forward.

Dante was never afraid of poor odds. He enjoyed changing the game to flip them.

I can do this. I... I don’t need to freak out. That... episode was something else. But... Thanaris was right. What she did, that Trial, pushed me beyond my limits. I am still terrified of her, but I can go through it now. I think.

The human strode forward, exiting the room he found himself in and heading straight for the Caesar. Somehow, he could sense her.

She was like a blinding light within the depths of the governmental building, tearing into Dante’s eyes that existed supernaturally. While squinting in near-pain, he opened the double doors to the room where Thanaris lay.

Her gaze sliced through him, but he steadied himself after a moment, shoulders straightening as he regained his composure, long resigned to death. The Caesar noticed his improvement, “Wonderful. We can have a proper talk now. I am already glad I didn’t cut you in half when we met,” Thanaris waved a hand out before her, welcoming Dante to the long table. “Sit and refuel.”

On the said table were heaps of food, none of it cooked, simply removed from whichever freezer or fridge it was in. Fortunately, none of the nutrients had been out for long, and Dante swiftly dived into the ice cream and frozen beef, knowing he would need the calories.

It was an odd choice, yes, but Dante didn’t care. He was starving, so much so that he’d listen to Thanaris without complaint.

“When you’re ready, you’ll head out. I can’t move without drawing attention, something that cannot happen for now. So, you and Astraeus will go on my behalf past Sauron’s Quarry. That also means no starships, as we don’t want you to be attacked by my kin,” Thanaris leaned forward, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret while the man ate his well-earned meal.

Despite her plans, Dante held a pressing issue. He understood she wanted him to do or get some object or piece of information out in the stars somewhere, but he needed to know the what. He also needed the how of his travel.

Dante swallowed a bite of frozen meat, his throat tight as he asked, “You’re sending me into the Lost Reaches with no backup? Just me and Astraeus? And... with no jumps, how is that possible?”

The Caesar nodded before leaning over the table and opening her palm. The Unnatural Tide flowed crimson across her hands before blooming into a pained flower. Somehow, to Dante’s eyes, it seemed to possess roiling flames across its petals.

“Yes. About that... It will take a little while. At least a month, but I can wrap you both up in my Tide and shove you into the Lightsea to travel manually. More dangerous typically, but you’re... not heading into a safe region of space in the first place.” The bloody rose continued to grow, gradually reaching the size of a sapling in Thanaris’ hand as if soaking in the words for strength.

Dante bit his lip at her information, immediately imagining where he would be sent. It was the outer segments of the Wings, where law and order ceased to exist, or a fallen Sector. Neither of which would be pleasant to visit. The former he had experienced, though, so he had hoped it was not the latter.

Unfortunately for the human, Thanaris bore a damning sentence, “The Lost Reaches are ancient, covered with remnants from bygone eras. I am after a... treasure that is growing there,” she stood from the table, placing sanguine roots onto the wooden frame. “You see, Dante, the Lightsea is not the only source of power out there.”

The roots nimbly bulged out, spreading further and stabbing into the splinters split outward as if to paint a picture for Dante. Alongside the damage, the Caesar explained herself, “Our Lightsea is the largest, not the only. The Inferose is another, detected to be in the depths of the Lost Reaches. While limited to a Caesar’s strength in overall power, it’s still a dimensional entity. We don’t know its exact location, and the main goal here was to have a stable ground to search more in-depth.“

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The Lightsea, the lifeblood of this universe, was thought to be the only dependable source of power for the human. Now, that belief was crumbling. He was, of course, aware of other dimensional abnormalities, but he thought the Lightsea was the only one that was important. It was beyond his imagination that such a place would garner Thanaris’ intrigue.

Again, he opened his mouth to speak but shut it, seeing that Thanaris was not yet done. Her grin widened further as if already having the image of Dante acquiring what she wanted him to.

“You’ll find it for me,” Thanaris said, her voice low and dangerous to match those bloody lips. “And when you do, this side of the galaxy will shift. A figure will stand just below a Celestial.”

Despite the strength in his limbs, a chill ran down his spine at the thought of what was waiting in the Lost Reaches. Finally seeing a chance, he asked a question while Thanaris wandered to the doorway, “Okay. How am I not obliterated by someone like you?”

The grand Caesar chuckled softly, covering her mouth with a slender hand, “I’ll handle the Caesars and anyone else who is feeling lucky. You just worry about the Anathemas. You and Astraeus should make quite the team.”

She turned to leave, but Dante called after her, his voice sharp, remembering her promise not to threaten his life anymore, “And what do I get?”

She said he was her ally. That must mean something.

Her voice echoed back to him through the empty halls, dripping with promise, “Anything you claim that is not the core of the dimensions is all yours.”

The words sank into Dante’s mind as he sat in front of his food, silent and lost in thought.

This was an opportunity. A massive one. While forced into it, the man could recognize the possibilities of entering such a realm. It must be erroneously rare to be chosen for something of this caliber. One might have even said Dante was lucky.

It would be the most dangerous mission of his life. The reward? So worth it. If the dimension itself holds the power of a Caesar... how much can I claim? What can I earn? I do not know. Yet...

Dante’s heart beat with excitement, something he wasn’t aware he could feel for such an event. The risk was massive. Even so, the human already saw himself as dead.

This was an afterlife of sorts, a chance to claw his way back into the world of the living. Dante was not a person to shirk from risk, let alone when the alternative was certain death. Though he wasn’t a gambler, mindlessly betting on luck. He would find his own strength and develop what he already had to increase his chances.

The attack he released against Thanaris was something he couldn’t freely replicate. However, it was now a game changer. If he had possessed that against Astraeus, the Anathema would have died before unlocking his Domain Collapse. Of that, Dante was assured.

His heart raced further with hopes of the morrow. He was already dead—what did he have to lose? In his rush to find Astraeus, he slammed his feet to the ground and pushed the chair back in careless haste.

A few minutes later, Dante knocked on a well-furnished door.

Surprisingly, it opened with minor delay, the Anathema standing on the other side. Even more to Dante’s awe, however, Astraeus looked different as he got a long, up-close look at him.

Astraeus’ form was almost human—broad shoulders, a perfectly tailored suit clinging to his tall frame. But the longer Dante looked, the more the illusion frayed. Beneath the surface, thousands of tiny, shifting dots rippled and swirled, never settling in one place. It was as if his body were constantly unmaking and remaking itself, a creature struggling to hold shape.

Like his body, Astraeus’ face yawed, never staying still. His amorphous eyes flickered with light, struggling to hold form, while his jawline reshaped itself with the glance downward at Dante. The tiny dots rippled, mimicking human expressions—a brow furrowed one moment, a faint smirk the next—but they never lingered, like a mask in constant flux.

The external emotions of the Dirge were always in flux, like a painting undone by the sea’s tide. It seemed Astraeus wished to maintain the illusion of humanity but never truly succeeded.

Dante’s silence only deepened Astraeus’ irritation. He stepped closer, his dotted face hovering inches from Dante’s face, “What do you want? I’m busy training. Her Majesty is sending us on a vital mission to compete with the other Caesars. I will not let her down.”

The human raised an eyebrow but didn’t fall back. Still, his trembling fingers fell into the crossed figure he held against Thanaris. Dante had learned to embrace his fears, but they still lingered like specters.

“Is that so? Why don’t we train together? We are going to be a duet, after all,” Dante offered a smile, the man reaching with his open hand while holding clenched fingers behind his back. Those hidden fingers trembled slightly, a quiet reminder of the fear that clung to him, even now. He had broken past it, yet it remained a barrier he would be often reminded of.

Astraeus’ face warped into a crown of confusion for a split second before it sighed, losing much of its momentum. The Anathema agreed passively as he retreated into his room, “Sure. I suppose you were the instrument for my loss. But I don’t see how you could—”

All of a sudden, a strand of water emerged from Dante’s forefinger and middle talon as he motioned his hand toward the distant wall. He pointed toward the far wall, pouring every ounce of concentration into the Lightsea’s pull. They offered only a silent prayer, sharing no of chant or rhythm to follow.

Work! Damnit!

As if to prove his resolve, the water erupted, slicing clean through the wall with a deafening crack, splitting it in two. The jagged opening revealed the other side, dust settling in the aftermath.

Dante smirked, his confidence swelling. “I passed the Rite Of Fear.” Astraeus’ stunned expression told Dante everything he needed. The shock in his companion’s eyes fueled him even further.

The Anathema’s eyes widened. For a moment, his expression faltered—surprise, maybe even respect—but it was quickly replaced with his usual aloofness.”You have grown. Demonstrably. I like it. We might just stand a real chance at this." Turning around, he waved for the human to follow him—past the shredded wall and scattered paintings.

As soon as Astraeus was out of sight, Dante exhaled sharply, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. He doubled over, hands on his thighs, cursing under his breath. He cursed himself as he finally understood just how difficult Tides were to master.

Fuck.

It felt like he’d run a marathon. Still, his mind raced with potential solutions.

Do I use my Stigma? No. I... I need to push through this. It’ll hone my skills by using it again. And... Judas has been quiet. Don’t want to wake him.

With all the resilience in his body, Dante arched his back in reverse and stood straight. Then he followed wearily after Astraeus. A moment later, he stood in a stark white room with bare concrete walls that echoed every sound. The emptiness of the space seemed to heighten the tension between them as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Astraeus sat in the middle, legs crossed and his hands placed closely against each other. Within the center, a bubble of energy from the Lightsea itself seemed to squirm. Dante recognized what this was without a word from his ‘companion’ to detail it.

A Domain. It was incomplete, barely extending beyond Astraeus’ claws. But that made sense—the Anathema had only just unraveled this power.

Still, through his focus, Astraeus seemed to respect Dante in some way after his showcase of potential without lifting his head. “I hope one day to see your Domain Collapse. After all, I still don’t know what your Stigma is. But that doesn’t matter. What does is that you can be consequential to my battles ahead. We have one month. Let’s get to work.”

Dante took the words as acknowledgment and sat across from the Anathema. While looking at the shifting blobs on Astraeus’ face, however, he couldn’t help but open his mouth, “Why are you so reverent of her? You treat her like a queen.”

The Domain flickered in the hands of the Vector-4, struggling to contain such power. He didn’t want to settle for releasing it as it was; he wanted to condense it, to imbue it with his meaning, and that required a colossal level of focus and dedication.

His loyalty shone through the haze. The rotating eyes held a brilliant light despite its darkness, a feat that Dante found unorthodox, “That is because she is one. More than that, though, she is the reason I’m alive. Our shared... benefactor of sorts brought her to save me, or so she said. Most other Caesars would have killed me without a thought, useless as I was. But...”

The Domain tightened to a pinnacle, concentrating beyond the limit of reality, and an event horizon formed, inundating reality with the truth of Astraeus’ soul.

“Domain Collapse: Inverted Palace.”

Space contorted, it distorted, and it shelved away everything Dante knew. The closer one was to Astraeus, the worse the distortion became. However, that wasn’t the genuine effect of this Domain.

Dante lost connection to the Lightsea, only possessing the remnants that he had within him before the event horizon formed before him. Dante’s breath caught in his throat as space bent around them, reality warping under Astraeus’ control. He hated to admit it, but the power was more than awe-inspiring. It was terrifying and blood-pumping all at once.

Astraeus’ voice softened when he mentioned his past, the swirling dots of his face briefly settling into something almost human. “She taught me many things, including how to do this. As such... when she asked me on a suicidal mission, for all the other Anathemas already possessed stronger DCs, I could only accept. While I failed in many ways... I suspect she is happy we found you.”

The two were pushed forward by something behind them, and they could not refuse, much like Dante. Yet even still... they were not like him. They enjoyed the slaughter, the murder, and the destruction.

He couldn’t help but admire Astraeus’ skill, but that didn’t change what he was. A killer. A monster. And yet… Dante wasn’t so sure he was all that different anymore. The man still could hardly look at himself in the mirror.

Yet he refused to accept he was anywhere near as awful as these creatures.

Nonetheless, he, too, couldn’t wait to see what his Domain Collapse might entail. Unfortunately, the man knew he was a long way from such a thing. As far as he knew, a Domain Collapse was the requirement for a Praetor, two whole levels above the strongest sentient he knew.

Concentration befell Dante, and he set himself upon his training. Before he left, he aspired to use his piercing water twice before exhaustion.

Impossible? Maybe. But Dante had beaten impossible odds before. In fact, he had done it just days prior.