There were once forefathers of many other empires. Rome, Ostacean, and Glaniece are merely the surviving factions from the early days after humanity’s fall.
To this day, however, three remain. All others are dead. Why is that? Ambition.
* Excerpt from the ‘Centurion’s History Guide’
Astraeus stood as the final contender in the flowers. The battle had been ongoing for several minutes, nearing a half hour in length. Compared to Rejo’s paltry five-minute gamble or Lucius’ eight-minute duel, Astraeus had it the worst.
As the strongest of those he had allied with, he remained the one that had grown the least. With his foresight, Claudius knew the contents of the blossoms, so only Eight had entered one. The other three waited for the Anomaly to kill his opponent.
After all, the Judge had seen that Eight had a vastly weakened counterpart. It seemed the Inferose could not copy the parts of him that made him... well, him.
Furthermore, neither Friday, Hana, nor Melody deigned to enter the Inferose’s Third Trial. He was alone in this battle.
All the others had either advanced or broken out in some way.
But Astraeus?
Snowy, frosted flakes of flawless blood spurted from his mouth as he knelt on one knee. Across from the faceless Anathema, his counterpart boasted similar wounds. They were resistant to each other’s Tides from Surewinter, not to mention their vast mastery of Frigo and the inherent defensive nature of the element.
Despite their injuries, both stood to face the other. Heavy breaths filled the frigid air while hills of snow surrounded them. They refrained from using their Domain Collapses, which meant they could not do so again.
And as both wanted to live beyond this battle... That was a foolish option.
So, Astraeus knew that he had to change things up. He held the slimmest edge in combat prowess, but it wouldn’t guarantee victory. Surewinter lingered in his sleeves, both the Burst and the stage above Dante’s mastery, Breath.
But as his mind rolled to the Sea Art, he recalled the human’s cunning. Then, his body relaxed, his muscles loosening to their extremes.
Astraeus might not have grown in strength during his time with Dante or his crew, but that didn't mean the Anathema had stagnated. It was his mind and perspective that had shifted.
The snow curling around his body for defense lowered, and he walked forward. The duplicate’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but it nonetheless raised its hand to attack. Astraeus’ steps crunched over the snow as he chose to replicate not just the captain he had grown to respect.
He would be decisive.
Surewinter’s initiating technique rang out across the Dirge’s body with countless crackles of ice. It was as if his innards were an icebox shattered by an earthquake. And that power, that of the frozen water, emerged all at once.
His fist tightened, recalling the way the Martian fought. It took him over a day to break through the illusion in his mind, remembering Lucius’ battle that had been hidden within his subconscious. The human was not the only figure Astraeus admired.
He had long thought the Seacursed were pathetic creatures, surviving by their thieving methods and schemes. In some ways, he was right. In others...
The scene of Lucius, near death and approaching his grave, beating down an Anathema that would have given Astraeus trouble refused to dim. It shined like a lighthouse, beckoning the young Dirge toward a higher place. It shouted for him to become more. To become... better.
Just as they copy us... I shall copy them. The others... they just... rely on themselves. Thanaris. Melody. Geist. Hana seems to have a little bit of an idea, but they don’t truly understand.
Astraeus’ head whipped to the side, evading a fist covered in spike snow as he pivoted and delivered his strike. The double gasped for air, stumbling backward, but the Anathema didn’t press him further.
We have been fighting for a few thousand years. But these humans alone... They date back hundreds of thousands of years of violence. They are the grandfathers of death. The progenitors of war. Who else to learn from but the source?
Instead of continuing, he swung his hand toward the ground. A tendril of snow formed behind his opponent, a colossal feat of Tide. Conjuring an element away from one’s body without a Domain Collapse was a sign of a coming Anacrux. Not that Astraeus cared in this moment.
He didn’t strike with it. No. That’d be too simple. Too... mundane. Too... Dirge-like.
Astraeus would fight like a human. Cowardly. Tricky. And most importantly... with his all.
The Frigo wrapped around the fake’s right leg as it stabilized itself, closing the wound on its side. But before it could move any further, the snow snapped backward, pulling that leg away.
Instantly, Astraeus dashed forward, his mind flickering toward another he had grown to acknowledge. Instead of striking with a predictable fist or blade, he chose something bizarre. Something... obscure.
Like the chains of a saw.
A whip flew toward his opponent from the side as Astraeus mocked his copy in a way that only an Araki would, “You are stupid.”
The insult was childish. It was ‘stupid’ in nature. Yet it threw the fake off for a split-second. That minor lapse in judgment from surprise cost him time to dodge or strike back and, coupled with the lash around his leg, caused the whip to slam against the abyssal face of the duplicate.
After the impact, he spun away, rolling several feet in the roses covered by white, long doused of their flames. Footsteps crunched behind him as Astraeus pulled up his chains and dug his knee into his copy’s spine, wrapping the snow-forged links around the identical throat.
He could just kill him with knives to the heart or decapitation. But Astraeus wasn’t finished. He had won easily. Candidly.
However, that was because his own self would never have expected such outlandish methods to appear out of the blue. He was waiting for their Stigmata. Or a gamble of their Domain Collapses that broke the set rules. Without the extreme methods, the battle would have continued for far longer. Yet he didn’t kill his opponent right away. He only tightened the hold and kept the hands away from each other.
There were still benefits to be gained from his copy. So, Astraeus spoke to his suffocating face, “Give me your Surewinter.”
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The duplicate’s eyes widened. Then the chain snapped even more narrow, nearly breaking the throat beneath.
“C’mon. At least let one of us grow stronger. That’s what Surewinter is for. It’s why Thanaris taught it to him and us. I know her. She... only sees him as a tool to strengthen me. So. Do it. Open it,” Astraeus’ words were firm, demanding. It was as if he had always had everything in the palm of his hand.
Of course, he hadn’t. But he had learned just how powerful confidence was. Without it, Dante would have lost his head the second he spoke to his Master.
It forced people to bow. They were compelled to, like sheep to a flock. If someone acted as though they knew the world, others would believe it so. Even Astraeus lowered his eyes when his Master spoke, but not Dante.
His azure was defiant and proud.
After a moment of hesitation, the duplicate fought back, bursting snow from his spine. With a sigh, Astraeus slammed his knee again, snapping the spine of his captive and groaning in pain. The sheer force of the Frigo striking him would have dented steel.
For Astraeus, all that happened was some frosty blood dripping from his lips. Then, he got to work as the blossom around him rose from the copy's surrender. Without the help of the duplicate, it’d be impossible to find all the stored crystals of cold that empowered Surewinter.
Thankfully, he left them in the standard places as Astraeus killed him, fulfilling his request.
At their current levels, they could move their locations with little effort, unlike those at Dante’s. After a few seconds, he yanked out five tiny crystals of light blue from the duplicate's elbows, knees, and stomach. They glimmered like miniature lightbulbs, proof of Surewinters hidden dangers. Yet it also showcased the benefits the Sea Art could grant.
Thanaris, those below her, and even those at her level were forced to learn it by the one above. Astraeus wasn’t sure who it was, but the mere concept of the thought drew pain into his mind. As such, he didn’t harbor any notions toward the figure.
Instead, he brought the crystals to the ones he had moved into his palm, melding them together. A cold front breathed into his body, paralyzing him for just a moment. Then, he felt the limit he had reached shatter. He had struggled to create more icicles as if his body refused to withstand anymore.
By devouring another’s, his own bodies’ Surewinter, he had increased his limit without any hidden flaws.
And now, with the boost, he had utterly mastered the second cycle, Surety, no longer stuck in its depths. His fists clamped shut with newfound strength. Astraeus’ body had reached a new boundary.
A grin manifested on his featureless face out of the eerie dots. But he had little time to enjoy his growth.
The other blossoms were rising, too, and he was beneath all but one. A glance downward over the side as it unfurled told him who remained on the ground.
A Judge battled alongside two petite Weren against... something. It was nigh impossible to peer through the Arido beneath, yet when Claudius bounced out of the devouring mist, Astraeus saw a chilling sight.
Lines of murky red blood ran down Tianshe’s gray face and streaked from his eyes.
************************
Atop the Inferose, at the base of the concaved lotus of nourishing flame, a bloodied man stood with silver hair cascading down to his shoulders. His age was unknown, yet his eyes told the stories of centuries.
And his right hand rested upon the centerpiece of the Inferose’s peak. A branch of scarlet with a trio of exposed fruits. They called to him, both in his mind and his cells.
“Lucius. Take one. Become a vessel. Empower yourself. Step upon the road of evolution.”
The words echoed within the air but were soundless and noiseless. Lucius’ eyes blanked out for a moment before he refocused, the indestructible will of a Martian reborn again.
It had reached into his mind again. He did not like that. And he let the Inferose know, “Stop. Tell me the truth. What does this fruit give? Am I your inheritor or your slave?”
The world sat still for a spell. Seconds ticked while distant battles rang out, the lotuses beginning to rise.
“I am sorry. I cannot help it. But... I delayed them as much as I could for you. This will not enslave you. In fact, it is the opposite. Only through this fruit can you be freed. Can I be freed. The shackles...”
Lucius palmed a fist-sized fruit. Each of the three appeared different. One held streaks of flame across it, another boasted a wavy illusory glow, and a final one was unadorned, as simple as a grapefruit. He held the lattermost.
“Again. What do these do? And what are you? Really. You seem to want me to have this. If you don’t answer, I will leave,” he spoke with a resounding calmness. Lucius had already died once today.
Joan’s Brute may have given him another life, but it had cost him much. His youth was gone. His bones creaked. Even his mind felt slower. The gray tufts falling from him as he moved foretold a grim fate that he knew he could not escape.
Nevertheless, he refused to be a slave. So, he waited until the voiceless spoke again. This time, it came from the grapefruit, “That is the Fruit O’ Evolution. The others are the Fruit O’ Flame and the Fruit O’ Mirror. It will... empower you and grant you a path toward power. I do not know anymore. I am only... I am only... I am... only... a lingering soul,” it paused as if struggling to find an answer. Then, it found one. “I come from someplace I cannot remember. Please. Take me. As many as you can. None of the others are worthy, tainted by the Eldest Soul. All they will do is...”
“Taint you in return,” Lucius said, finishing the Inferose’s struggling words. He could feel its desperation, its rage, and understood where it came from. The Inferose wished that it could protect itself, that it had true power. But it didn’t.
It could only slow and harry those who came toward it with its Trials.
The fruit bobbed up and down as if in agreement with Lucius. He stared at the bizarre plant momentarily before exhaling with a grunt and pulling the grapefruit off its stem.
He stared down at it as his mouth drooled on instinct. His body knew this thing was special. Waves practically shot from it, telling him just how good it would be for him.
Then, he took a bite.
The fruit’s skin tore beneath Lucius’ teeth with an audible snap, releasing a tangy, almost electric burst of flavor that made his senses reel. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted—sweet, bitter, and metallic all at once, with an undercurrent of something alien. He chewed once, then twice, his body reacting before his mind could. He became a ravenous beast, desiring power in but a moment. Warmth spread like the sunlight from his dreams coursing through his veins.
And then it began.
The fruit melted in his mouth, becoming a viscous fluid that slid down his throat. Suddenly, a sharp heat erupted there, radiating outward like a wildfire. Lucius gagged, his hands instinctively clawing at his neck, but there was no stopping it. The heat transformed into motion. A writhing, burrowing sensation tore at his innnards as millions of thin fibers erupted from the remnants of the fruit and snaked into his body.
His vision blurred as he fell to his knees, gasping, “What... is... this?” Lucius tried to scream, but no sound came out other than the choked noise. The fibers were alive, intelligent, seeking out his innermost depths. They branched through his esophagus, burrowing into the soft tissues, then further—into the bones, into the very core of his being.
Lucius felt every agonizing moment as the roots integrated themselves into him. Tendrils wrapped around his skeleton, spreading like seeds in fertile soil. They anchored themselves at every joint and reinforced every weakened bone. This alien graft encased, mended, and strengthened his cracked ribcage, fractured spine, and indented skull.
But it didn’t stop there.
The fibers surged into his nervous system, intertwining with his spinal cord and extending into every nerve. His body seized violently as his neural pathways were invaded and overwritten. His senses flared in terrifying clarity; he could hear the faint crackling of the Inferose’s flames and feel the microscopic texture of every ashen petal beneath him. Even his thoughts felt sharper, like knives honed on some invisible whetstone.
As a Martian, he had known every inch of his body. It was merely trained instincts. And at that moment, he couldn’t believe what he was becoming. It was no longer... he was no longer...
His eyes fell down.
Beneath his skin, Lucius saw the change. His hands trembled as he held them up, watching in horror and fascination as the fibers grew outward, spreading to the tips of his fingers. They formed intricate patterns beneath the surface, a lattice of glowing straw-colored veins that pulsed faintly in rhythm with his two ailing, aged hearts.
Martians didn't die of old age. Never. It seemed that rule would continue.
A new wave of pain struck as the fibers wrapped around those hearts. For a moment, they resisted, faltering with each weak beat. But then, the tendrils began to pulse in unison, harmonizing with his faltering rhythm. Energy surged into his chest, and his hearts, once feeble and failing, began to pump with renewed vigor.
Lucius gasped as vitality flooded his body. His skin, though untouched, felt alive with energy, as though every pore was drinking in the ambient light and heat around him. His muscles no longer ached; his bones no longer creaked. Strength coursed through him, the kind he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps decades.
Certainly not after he had ingested two Brutes in just a few days. Lucius had leaped from total exhaustion to the peak condition in moments. While his hair remained gray and the wrinkles lingered, he knew he had regained much of what he had lost. And then some.
Lucius clenched a fist, the green glow beneath his skin brightening as he did. His entire being hummed with power, and the voice confirmed it, originating from the other two fruits simultaneously, “Yes! Sorry, but this won’t last forever. I had to use much of my energy to fix you, so the roots will need time to recover after a little exertion. If you can hold on for a few hours, maybe you can take another Inheritance! Please, Lucius! Don’t let them take me!”
The Martian laughed, nodding toward the Inferose, “I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”
He appreciated the gift he had been given. He could sense the power belonged to no one but him. He didn’t have to draw upon some distant river or plead for strength. With each breath...
The air surged into his flesh. Akin to a bottomless maw, his flesh squirmed, eating light, wind, and even the specks of flame that drifted over.
Lucius stood slowly, testing his new body. His movements were fluid and effortless, as if every part of him worked in perfect harmony. Previously, he had thought that was the case, too. How wrong he had been. With a light touch, he grazed his chest, feeling the faint vibration of the plant-like system beneath his skin. His gaze moved to his hands, where the patterns of glowing fibers shimmered faintly.
He knew little about the power that had been given to him, but he knew it held a profound depth. His eyes peered deeper, attempting to scour its secrets.
And then he heard it.
The soft thud of boots landed on the edge of the Inferose’s lotus a mere hundred feet away.
Lucius turned, his body reacting instinctively, and his piercing gaze locked onto the figure standing at the raised edge of the concaved structure. The man wore a hood that obscured his face, but the twin sickles he held in each hand were unmistakable—blades of pure black that seemed to drink in the light around them.
The Martian’s sharpened senses even picked up on the cleaver hidden within the man’s coat. Lucius recognized him immediately. This was the man Dante had warned him about. He agreed with Dante’s conclusion.
Dangerous.
Friday seemed to feel Lucius’ presence, turning his head to meet him the second he arrived. As the two locked eyes, something unspoken passed between them. It was a recognition that flew beyond words.
Lucius tensed, every fiber in his body ready to spring into action. The man tilted his head slightly as if studying him. Beneath the hood, the Martian caught a glimpse of eyes that burned with a strange, alien intensity.
The two men stood there, the Inferose’s flames casting flickering shadows across the arena while the churning noise of rising petals echoed beneath. There was no movement for a moment but the faint crackling of fire and the rustle of ash. Both remained perfectly still.
They didn’t need to speak. They both knew.
They were the same kind of beast with the same color blood.