Seven strata define the weave of the Lightsea.
From water comes adaptation, steam forms swiftness, and ice contains unending violence. Between the crosses lay the snowy bastion, a rejuvenating humidity, and even the devouring haze. Each may deliver one to power. To providence.
In the center, however, lies a profound mystery. That which is unnatural bears both the highest price and the lowest road.
* Yarnen, Anomaly 0, Year 3031, in her Codex Of War.
Careful to remain hidden from the surrounding cameras and watchful eyes, Dante crawled bit by bit to the edge of the rooftop. From the precipice, he peered down at the bustling streets below, multi-lane roads bathed in neon light. The glow was overwhelming; he squinted to see properly. Seconds ticked away in Dante’s mind as he counted time down to the millisecond.
Soon.
Nullify allowed him to focus beyond human limits, heightening his senses and abilities. He embraced its clarity, relishing in the tranquil. The prison transport would be on its way any moment now.
Joan’s Biotic should allow him to land atop the vehicle undetected and crawl in—no casualties. After that, the rest of the plan was his to execute.
More time passed. Yet something gnawed at him. Anxiety? No, this was deeper. Paranoia slipped through the haze of Nullify, seeping into his bones. He shifted his gaze eastward, toward the bank down the block.
It was then he truly felt it. The sensation wasn’t anxiety. It wasn’t his paranoia. It was... existential dread, the kind that seeped into one’s very core, the kind that came when one crossed into the Lightsea.
A wave of goosebumps washed over his skin. His breath caught just before the planet seemed to lose its brilliance. The stars above, dimmed by the recently set sun, vanished into nothingness. The night grew darker than black. All around him, technology—the ever-resilient backbone of the city—faltered. Neon signs and streetlights blinked out, plunging the metropolis of Eratan into a pitch-black void, save for the pale moon hanging above.
But the moon was wrong.
A moment passed, then two. Dante waited. He knew something was coming. His gut was rarely off the mark.
Then it happened: a crack. His eyes darted upward, widening as he saw the moon itself split open. From its center, an enormous eye, bloodshot and abyssal, blinked into view, blood-red rings swirling within its inky sclera. The pupil, enormous and malevolent, seemed to peer directly into his soul.
He knew immediately that this was because of him.
Fuck. Rejo. I knew something was wrong with him. Why didn’t I do something sooner? The realization hit hard. My plans. My fucking ego. I ignored the signs. How could I be so stupid?
Even through the muted emotions of Nullify, Dante’s self-loathing punched through like a fist to the gut. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. The screams erupting from the surrounding city reminded him of the bigger problem at hand.
His crew. They were in trouble. The spreading aura, the wrongness he felt, centered on the bank—the very target they for the robbery.
His eyes flitted to the road. Hesitation crept in. This was the perfect opportunity to hit the transport. The blackout would make it easy. No one would expect him to switch out the prisoner in the middle of a city-wide disaster.
The logical side of his mind argued with ferocity. It made sense—to the strategist in Dante. He could continue with the plan, minimize his risk, and leave the bank to handle itself. There were Seafarers and Psionics in the city, after all. They could deal with this, whatever it was.
And Rejo? He was... likely dead. Sonna and Joan wouldn’t last long. They’d served their purpose. Archimedes—he was the only one Dante needed. The others were expendable.
He needs one-of-a-kind talents. Like API. Like Bachae, the Clangbird. Like Miyamoto, the Keyblade. Like Ouran, the Gunsmoke. Even Haile, the Dull Puppet. There were people out there, legends in the Wings and Clouds like him from the outskirts, whom he wanted to recruit now that he could stand on the same field as them.
These few people were not renowned for their current strengths but for their boundless potential, such that even he had heard of them.
But...
He raised his leg to head toward the transport... then froze, his boot hovering above the ground.
Judas is quiet. Too quiet. It could be the Nullify. Maybe it’s the Lightsea itself, but... I don’t think so. He wants me to abandon them. They... they aren’t dead yet. If they were… he wouldn’t have said that.
The human took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on his emotions despite the Nullify, a rare occurrence. The daemon’s silence was more disconcerting than its usual whispers. His choices, already limited and fraught with danger, narrowed to a razor’s edge. With his gut twisting, he knew what he had to do.
It was a risk. A major one. Dante knew that.
As bizarre colors tainted his vision, his eyes gravitated toward the lightless road. The two separate dimensions were becoming one. He didn’t know how, but it was happening. There was no reason to deny it. He had heard hints of such a thing from powerful Dirge, but typically, they covered whole planets.
The man was clueless about the city-wide phenomena. Almost despite that, it also made him even more careful. He did not approach the unknown lightly. Nevertheless, his feet pointed toward the distant bank.
Dante hardly knew his current crewmates. Rejo had been with him for a while, but they frequently misunderstood each other when they spoke, even after months. Beyond that...
Sonna was an enigma. She lied about something. Dante wasn’t sure what, and he was prone to believe that she was ready to betray him if the Federation asked. The man believed Sonna was likely still in touch with her superiors.
How much of his thoughts were his paranoia or the recent incident? Such an answer was anyone’s guess.
Joan... Joan was his father’s contact. She had done innumerable experiments on Dante when he was but a child, most of them harmful, yet some yielded fruit. Her expertise, which led to his plentiful augments, had to thank the human’s impossible endurance, allowing her to test countless ideas without the boy croaking.
Dante was no Martian from a petri dish, but for womb-born humans, he was the peak of the barrel. Such an assessment also did not consider the augments that exceeded the rim.
The three were technically disposable. He didn’t need them. But...
He saw his little brother’s expectant eyes as he looked out into the lightlessness. The cheerful runt who always believed him to be better, to be kinder than those who were around them. Even closing his eyes with effort, Dante struggled to overcome the drug in his system. Such a war broiled that his skin creased into dozens of tense lines.
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“No one likes an asshole, Dante.”
His brother’s favorite phrase to murmur beneath shivering skies echoed in Dante’s mind. It did so once, and once alone, but that was enough. The man calculated the risks. Then, he declared, “Fuck them. Fuck them all.”
He’d miss out on an ideal crew member for...
For what? What he supposed to feel better about himself? Would it make himself believe he wasn’t the same monster his father was? Was it to prove that he wasn’t some cold, calculating machine?
Dante didn’t know. Truly. He didn’t. Though, he was certain about one thing.
He didn’t want to let down his runt of a brother when he had the option not to, no matter how many years passed. This one time, this first time, it seemed to Dante as his goals and Nullify did not square up. That left a knot in his stomach that he could not remove. Regardless, he would not wait a second longer.
Without glancing back toward the transport, Dante sprinted toward the bank. The augments in his legs screamed with energy, fueled by his internals, as he leaped from one rooftop to another. He was careful with his route while optimizing the time, moving as fast as he could without falling into the chaos below while staying in the inky darkness to keep himself hidden.
Even while running, however, his mind flew back to the plan. The blackout would compromise the transport’s security, making it an easy target. It would be so easy. So so easy.
Nullify was a beautiful mate for Dante. It let him work at maximum efficiency, but that was under one condition. That he didn’t need his emotions. But Nullify couldn’t drown out the nagging sense that if he abandoned them now, he’d never forgive himself.
His crew’s lives were at stake, and the unnatural darkness emanating from the bank showed the origin of the Lightsea interlacing with reality. As Dante made it to his third rooftop, Judas finally reappeared.
The copy of Dante’s brother stood at the fourth ledge, staring him down with a mocking smile, “Aww... little Dante didn’t want to betray his friends? Come on. You’ll die if you go that way. Such a fucking waste. Just go get that genius you were drooling over.”
With the daemon glaring at him, Dante kicked his legs into the rooftop, slamming into the forward ledge roughly before pulling himself over. The distraction cost him some power, but he made it.
Still, as he looked down at the alley beneath him, the pitch-black streets felt like a void, swallowing all light and leaving only his muted thoughts and the pounding of his heart. He could hear the rushing footsteps and panic from below by the thousands at large. The city was falling apart.
A palm fell toward him, offering its paradoxical strength while saying, “There is an Anathema nearby. If you do not run, you will die.”
Dante grabbed the offered hand. It wasn’t just a vision—it had actual physical strength. As he hauled himself up, he met Judas’s gaze with a flicker of suspicion.
“What the hell is an Anathema?” Dante demanded, his tone tense. Inside his mind, a storm swirled, but now was not the time to worry about Judas. He had been observant so far, nothing else.
The question hung in the air, and screams resounded through the city and echoed downward from the skies above. Judas laughed shortly, shaking his head before turning to face the lightless stars.
“It is an adolescent of the Dirge. This one from what I can tell... quite gifted, possibly not alone. Most can collapse a Domain, though incomplete. It gives them... tremendous powers while cradling more Dirge. Though... they don't typically use it for such wide-spread massacre. Leaves them open to assassination,” Judas explained, the words just short enough to answer the immediate questions and long enough to coax a dozen more into Dante’s mind.
Yet, they didn’t have the time for a long session of questions. The human knew that. Instead, he settled for one last question, asking, “If it is an adolescent, then what are you?”
Again, Judas shook his head, turning his head toward the lightless night while stating, “Is that something you truly wish to know? Knowledge can spell doom here. How about one better? Those creatures down there?” pointing one finger toward the open street, the being spoke without derision. “Those are Anaphage. Anarchies will soon appear, which are stronger, larger, and more dangerous. A few Anachronisms might even show, and they can wield the Lightsea’s might. You must run before this planet falls to ruin.”
Dante’s eyebrow rose. He knew what Judas said was likely the truth and that it might be better for him not to know. However, he couldn’t simply abandon this place. He couldn’t.
The human had seen plenty of Seafarers and their ilk throughout his life, but all were small-timers like he was now. They possessed only the Stigmata. He once met one that had reached something equal to an Anachronism, as they could conjure blades of chilling ice, but nothing greater.
Bullets didn’t hurt that woman. Maybe a large enough caliber where her ice wasn’t would, but nothing seemed to even hurt her. And the way she... killed those on board…
Dante pushed those thoughts aside and resumed his run. Judas’s voice followed, angry and desperate, “Are you insane!? I told you, you’ll die if you face it, and I doubt it’s alone! I sense the aura of something else! Hidden, hibernating, but it’s still there!”
The panic in the city sharply shifted to agonizing screams of terror as Judas’ words proved true. In the corners of Dante’s eyes, the human saw creatures in the streets. They glowed like radiant gems to his sight, augmented thanks to the creature within him.
At last, he reached the building beside the bank. The streets below were empty, filled only with the remnants of a fierce battle. Bloodstains, bullet holes, and burnt-out police vehicles littered the area.
While twisting his head, his voice dulled abruptly by the ringing of gunshots, “I already told myself I’d save them. Running will do little with you inside me, no? Might as well fight.”
A grumbling came from Judas as the copy of Dante’s brother crouched beside him. The two met eyes for a second before the Anaphage vanished from existence, as if he was never there to begin with. Scoffing, the man clambered down from the roof, using the window inlets as footholds on his way to the ground.
On his descent, he paused slightly as he saw a family of three through the glass. It was a mother and two small children cramped beside their fridge in their meager apartment. Dante’s gaze softened for only the briefest of moments until the drug overtook his emotions.
He continued, hearing the families’ door battered by some Dirge. This was a memory he would relive the next time he slept.
Still, once his feet hit the concrete beneath, his senses howled with danger. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Dante double-checked his energy shield, knowing full well it would mean little to the monsters from the Lightsea as it refused to boot up. Yet, he didn't have time to fiddle with it.
Shields worked only against guns and other high-speed projectiles. These creatures... were not likely to shoot him.
He hadn’t heard of an outbreak like this... ever. Dante wasn’t even sure something like this was possible, but he saw a sun and its planet devoured a few days ago. The galaxy was more extensive than he had ever imagined. The man had been stuck in the outermost regions for his whole life.
Near the Great Cavity, people regarded such monsters as children. No different from such things, the man might as well have been a child at this stage. Regardless, Dante cared little about how others saw him, whether as food, prey, or entertainment.
While striding toward the entrance of the bank, Dante’s eyes sank to the bloodstains on the road. There were no bodies. Just the remnants of their struggles. Bullet holes and the burnt evidence of plasmic rounds littered every police car, and a few sutured into the bank’s facade.
For a reason that Dante could not identify, there were not that many bullet holes as if something had disabled the weapons. At just a glance, he could see several such weapons still full of ammo. The sight sent a chill down his spine, but the drug ignored the alarms in his system.
Dante’s foot took another step until he realized there was no more sound in the city. It was quiet. Utterly quiet. As far as one might go, there was not an ounce of noise.
After looking up, he found that moon-eye bearing down on him, the abyssal sclera pulling him. He stepped back, yet his legs wouldn’t move against the concentric crimson as it devoured whatever he let draw toward it.
Suddenly, a panicked scream came from down the street, and he shifted out of instinct to face it. To his dismay, all he saw was a woman grasp toward him and shout, “Help! PLEASE! PLEASE!”
However, before she could take even another step, the young lady evaporated, not even leaving her clothes, as teeth took her upper half. Behind her, the humanoid shape of a slithering shadow lingered with an arched back and a maw dripping with nothingness.
It smiled at Dante before patting its belly and crawling away on all fours, backward, and with a supernatural, wobbly gait. The cracking of its bones lingered in the human’s mind while crimson pooled at his feet and reflected the moon.
Unbeknownst to Dante, in the mirror of blood, the man’s shadow appeared elongated, with a grin forming upon his frowning countenance.
Dante grasped his revolver, well aware it would do little for him as he strode into the bank. He was already neck-deep in this shit. He figured he might as well see what happens when he dove in all the way.
Inside the bank, the world shifted. The lights were back on, revealing the bank’s untouched interior. Dante spotted Rejo, Sonna, and Joan creeping carefully toward the back, behind the counter. In the center of the room, two figures confronted each other.
Dante’s heart sank. He recognized one of them—a Judge. Furthermore, it was a Tianshe, the model, gray-skinned race of the Romans, standing with a pistol in hand. Tianshe were the complete opposite of humans, possessing endless rights and privileges. The Judge placed far less worry into the man’s mind, however, compared to the other being.
The second was... wrong. It giggled with a featureless, mannequin-like face as white dots shimmered across its body.
At first, Dante thought the Judge would turn on him moments after killing this creature. They were, after all, the most elite soldiers of the Roman Empire who didn’t own territory. Then, he recalled that his face was hidden by the mask.
Soon, however, that worry exchanged for another newer, graver fear.
The Judge backpedaled a few steps, his voice apprehensive as the weapon in his hand crumpled into nothingness, devoured by lightlessness into a tiny point. The man had used it to defend himself against his opponent’s Stigmata, nearly succumbing to the surprise attack moments prior.
“You’re not an Anachronism. How is an Anathema way out here? In the fucking boonies? With a Stigmata like that... What are you after?” the red-haired man drew a long knife made of gnarled bone with feathers upon its handle out of his belt to face the monster before him.
The Anathema itself cackled with ecstasy, running its hands down its face as it hustled from side to side. The dots seemed to both descend inwardly and expand outwardly at once. It was like moving eyes all across the figure.
Dante glanced between the two of them, recognizing the Judge as the reason the Lightsea did not affect the bank. He was skilled enough to at least contest the Qualae here. Based on the Anathema’s madness, however... perhaps not skilled enough.
The three in the back met Dante’s gaze just as the Anathema moved. Its elongated fingers scraped the ground with its nails while its feet propelled it toward the Judge, who just then noticed the human. Distrust riddled the Tianshe’s face with his long coat fluttering, and Dante’s heart sank as he knew something for sure.
Humans are always the ones blamed. He’s gonna kill me.
Without waiting to see the clash of titans, Dante dashed along the edge of the forum’s walls, his augments tearing apart flesh and bone as he pushed them beyond any typical limit. Nullify allowed him to ignore such agony while the two argued.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, guard-dog?” the Anathema sneered, dashing for the Judge, and space warped underneath the former while the latter also tapped into the Lightsea. Snow bristled upon the Dirge’s flesh, but he preferred his spatial Stigmata over the flakes.
In contrast, shimmering waves sparkled in the forum before racing currents circled the Judge. The waters stabilized the Anathema’s next strike, deflecting it. Less than a beat later, they met each other in a furious melee, each swing of the Judge’s bone blade or slash of virulent water met by the Anathema’s shattered space.
The combat was a masterclass of speed and precision between man and monster, but even to Dante’s untrained eyes, it was clear: the Judge was being pushed back, little by little. The Anathema was just too fast. Too strong. The difference of biology was showing itself.
Still, with pure ingenuity, the Judge embedded the Lightsea itself in his movement, enabling him to evade the Anathema’s oblivion-like Stigmata. Dante’s pupils scintillated at seeing such movements of the Lightsea. He couldn’t understand how the two did it, but someone did.
Judas sat at the teller’s counter, eating a chip from an employee’s lunch, whose owner lay unconscious beneath him like all the others. The man watched it as thought it were show and spoke with a mocking laughter, “See? Gonna die. Way out of your or my league. That Judge? He’s good with the ‘Sea. For a fleshy, at least. Especially one that young. Though, he’ll die, too. And now, so will you.”
Dante ignored him, leaping over the counter and shattering the glass with a quick shot from his pistol. With the falling debris, he landed behind the short wall where his crew huddled. Rejo, Sonna, and Joan stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.
Without giving them a chance to ask questions, Dante flipped the bomb hidden in his sleeve into his palm, ready to make his move. However, before he could act, a wave of deafening energy slammed into the room by of the collision of two unstoppable forces.