The Constellation: An independent group that consists of all races. Members of this group are called Asters, Novas and Supernovas, depending on their rank, and are some of the world’s most powerful people, including groups such as the Big Dipper. Despite having no legal power, many states and authorities acknowledge them as the global peacekeeping force, giving their members a large degree of freedom in their actions. Until recently, admission into this group was extremely difficult, with only 0.01% or around 10 applicants succeeding in their applications each year. With rising demand for Asters, the Constellation has implemented a school to train Aster-hopefuls, known as City of Hope’s Institute of Power (CHIP) in Hope City. However, sparks of controversy surrounds the effectiveness of this programme, but these were quelled when the Generation of Supers made their public debut. However, despite having an almost guaranteed entrance rate into the Constellation, it is said that CHIP’s regimen is so rigorous that death is a major concern.
Chapter 3: Farewell party
“Zestia.”
Said girl freezes in the middle of her stride.
She knows that voice. Anyone that resides in the Vatican Haven does. The smooth melodious voice that brings comfort and reassurance to anyone that hears it is unmistakable. Yet it is laced with unbridled power.
“Lord Raphael.”
She immediately turns to face the Archangel and gets to one knee, bowing in respect.
“You are leaving today, am I correct?”
She looks up to see Heaven’s emissary to Sol extending a hand towards her.
Beautiful.
She’s seen him numerous times in her time in the Vatican. Yet the same word keeps ringing in her head every time she her eyes land on him. There is no other way to describe that face that smiles at her from behind the hand.
“Yes.”
She takes his hand, basking in the holy feeling it radiates, and gets to her feet, letting her take a closer look at the one of God’s eldest children.
A mighty Archangel.
Said to be the most perfect of beings, and she cannot disagree.
Even though he is dressed in standard white robes with golden linings, there is no other word to describe him than beautiful.
The curly locks of hazel brown hair hang off his head and onto his shoulders, swaying ever so slightly from the wind in the garden. The brown eyes shine brightly, bringing a sense of warmth into his otherwise stern features.
His skin is a perfect pink, unmarred with any scars, contrary to the number of battles the man has taken part in. The beauty that the entity before her possesses is natural and eternal. No amount of magic or makeup can bring another being to this level of perfection in terms of appearance.
She can see how the Archangel in front of her is the subject of many of her not-so-pious Sisters’ fantasies.
She sighs internally. Meanwhile, she has to spend 30 minutes every day washing her face, applying creams, and a whole basket load of other ointments to her face and body to maintain her fair complexion.
Why can’t being born Nephilim give these kinds of perks as well?
He smiles. And she swoons underneath.
“I see. I wish you all the best, Nephilim. God be with you.”
With that, the Archangel leaves, along with his entourage of Cardinals and Paladins.
Looking at the retreating figure, she can’t help but shudder.
What power.
She could feel it rolling off from him the moment he called her name. Even now, she can still feel traces of it lingering in the air. The title of Heaven’s strongest is not just for show.
Despite meeting him a few times already, Zestia still cannot get used to the presence of the Archangel. Just being near him makes her hair stand, yet she never feels fear. In a way, his presence calms her, rejuvenates her, even. Raphael rarely appears in public, and even then, never leaves the walls of the Vatican City. Yet, the tales of his exploits ring far throughout the world.
There are stories of how the presence of an Archangel could change the tide of a battle; their 12 wings stretched out in the air, illuminating the battleground; their halos, shining as bright as the Sun itself, bringing warmth and hope to allies while blinding their enemies; their unparalleled might in the battlefield, dancing on the ground and weaving through the sky, all while cutting down their foes with spears made of holy light.
It is said that an Archangel has enough power to destroy a city with a single wave of light spears.
After meeting one herself, Zestia finds that the claim might not be too far off.
But enough of thinking about Heaven’s equivalent of nuclear bombs.
She has much more important tasks at hand.
Like leaving the Vatican Haven for the first time in more than 10 years.
Somewhat still exhilarated from the previous encounter, she picks up her pace and makes her way to St. Peter’s Square, where Archibald and the rest will be sending her off to Hope City. She glances around, soaking in the beautiful sights of the Vatican Gardens. They say that Hope City is lacking in greenery. She sighs; strolling through the gardens has always helped her relax after a tiring day. She reaches out, smelling one of the many flowers that bloomed during spring. She is going to miss this.
“Hey, Zes! Hurry up! The giant metal dragonfly from Hope City is going to take off without you!”
Zes has to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. Giant metal dragonfly? Is that how Sister Agatha sees the Flutterbug? There are some similarities, the wings and the bulbous cockpit, but that is about it. Then again, Sister Agatha spent her whole life within the walls of Vatican City; God knows she isn’t very up to date with the outside world and technology. She is one of the elder nuns, around 50 years old that keep complaining about how Zes and her friends spend the whole day stuck in the recreational rooms watching the Holovids and RuneVision.
It isn’t her fault that Vatican City was boring as heck.
“It’s not going to take off without me when I’m its only passenger, Sister Agatha.” She sighs exasperatedly; she always overreacts and nags at them. But inside, she smiles; it is endearing, in a motherly way.
A little blur suddenly tackles her in a hug, and she finds herself falling onto the floor, staring into the wet eyes of a 5 year old Cynthia.
“Sister Zes, we’ll miss you,” she sniffles, “write often would you? Pope Archie says that you’ll be very busy there in Hope City, and it’s dangerous!” She looks so adorable, even when she is crying, her puffy cheeks red and wet from the tears rolling down.
“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry, li’l munchkin” She wipes the tears of Cynthia’s cheeks.
Zes wants to squeeze them so hard. The girl is unbearably cute. But ‘Pope Archie’ is watching at the side, the gleam in his eyes showing just how amused he is at the display of affection.
She’d rather not let him see her perform such immature acts, lest he use it against her in the future.
Gah, she’d never should have let him known that she’d had a crush on her friend Julius 3 years ago. Just last week she found herself stuck with him for 3 weeks on the cleanup roster.
Alone.
The cleanup roster which Pope Archibald no doubt arranged himself.
She lifts the crying girl off her stomach, and then gets up, dusting and straightening her clothes.
She is surprised at the turnout.
There are over 40 people here, many of them teens around her age that she’s attended classes with.
All of them here to say goodbye to her.
She is honestly quite touched as she goes around, saying goodbye and thanking each person individually for coming. They in turn return it with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, giving her their well wishes and farewells.
Amethyst, Beatrice, Charlie, Donald, Evan, Fleur… each goodbye becomes harder and harder as the emotions continued to pile and the weight on her heart keeps getting heavier.
For the past few weeks after she realized she’d be attending CHIP, excited was a mild way to describe how she felt.
She’d be leaving the walls! Not only around Vatican City, but even the gigantic ones that protected the Haven itself.
She could see the world!
Now, the joy is slowly getting replaced with sadness and guilt. She will be leaving her friends, people she called Sisters and Fathers. She will be leaving her family, not by blood, but by faith and bond.
As she says goodbye to the last of them, she realizes that this might be the last time she will see some of them.
It is no secret that CHIP’s curriculum isn’t exactly safe, some calling it downright hazardous. Fieldtrips to the Void and the Lost Continent are part and parcel of their learning process, and deaths are to be expected in such places. Students are tasked to patrol the streets of Hope City which, rumor has it, are strife with illegal and underground activities.
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At the same time, many of her friends here are training to be Exorcists, and some of them will be going out into the field under their apprenticeships soon.
They could die.
She could die.
She thinks back to the many memories she has of Vatican City, the place that saved her from a much crueler fate.
She remembers running around the gardens, playing catch with her friends and juniors, when they were younger.
She remembers the baths, and how she and her fellow Sisters-in-training would head there to wind down and cleanse themselves after a tiring day. They would spend an hour there just gossiping and teasing one another.
She remembers how she and her friends would sneak out in the middle of the night to eat real food instead of ‘shredded bible paste’ as Marcus had called it.
She smiles at the memory. The food is one thing she is certain she will not miss.
As her recollections grow, the pain in her heart only gets worse. She wants to get this over and done with, before she loses her composure. She can already feel her eyes watering, and she turns to wipe the tears away.
She will not let them see her cry.
Taking a deep breath, she turns to give her final goodbye. The bald man dressed simply for the leader of the Vatican Haven. Simple robes, a pair of metal-rim glasses and a simple necklace where a wooden cross hangs from his neck.
Pope Archibald Fritz – the Nephilim Miracle Maker – the one the media calls the Hierophant: The person that took her in and saved her.
He is the closest thing to a father figure she has, and it pains her when she realises she knows next to nothing about him. Their interactions are short, rushed, and usually only consist of lectures on morality and the like.
The Pope is a busy man. She can see the weariness in his eyes; he is running a nation half the size of Europe. The world is once again on the brink of war, and the next one will make World War Three look like a petty squabble. This man is literally trying to stop a war, and the stress shows. He may not have aged physically, but his mannerisms have. In the 11 years she’s known him, he’s changed. The frequent smiles have become rare. The speeches of optimism, peace and hope every Sunday has degraded to messages of preparation and perseverance.
And yet, despite all that, he’s taken time off his busy schedule to come down and send her off. She wonders if it was because he cares for her, or because she is acting as an ambassador for Vatican Haven to Hope City as a Nephilim-in-training.
It is probably a mixture of both, but she wishes it was more of the former.
“Come Zestia, walk with me.” That isn’t an order from the Pope, it is a request from a… Friend? Father? She isn’t sure, but she walks with him towards the awaiting Flutterbug on the other side of the plaza.
They walk a little in silence, Zestia taking every moment to appreciate the ancient yet grand Vatican architecture for what might be the last time.
“Do you remember,” he says as they walk past the obelisk that stands erect in the centre of the plaza, “when you and Amethyst got caught trying to climb the Obelisk?”
Zes winces as she recalls that particular memory. That is something she does remember. Vividly. And painfully.
That happened 3 years ago on a winter night. She and her then roommate Amethyst had snuck out to the Plaza to climb the Obelisk. Thinking back, there wasn’t much point to it other than the fact that they were clearly told not to do such a thing.
“Sort of, “she shrugs, “can’t remember why though.”
She does remember, of course. The rebellious streak ran strong amongst the prepubescent teens of Vatican City. Unfortunately, they were caught by Paladin Benedict who had been doing his rounds and then brought to Pope Archie to “receive divine judgement for desecrating a Holy Object.”
She still remembers the look of defeat the Hierophant had worn as the Paladin explained to him their crimes.
God, she had been so embarrassed then.
But it was nothing compared to what she had felt the next day.
For they had been punished to sit on the very top of the Obelisk, wearing a sign that covered their whole body reading “DO NOT FEED – POPE ARCHIBALD” for the whole day.
Wearing nothing but their nightgowns.
In the middle of winter.
That is something she does not want to remember.
“Well, as long as you remember what happened next, it doesn’t matter.” The Pope chuckles.
“I do.” She bites back, and then asks, “But what does that got to do with anything?”
“The Obelisk sitting in St. Peter’s Square is 41 metres tall,” He continues, “The Spire in Hope City is 101 stories tall. Do you understand what I am trying to get at?”
She freezes at the implication Archie is trying to drop on her. Does he really think that lowly of her?
“Don’t worry, I won’t try to climb it” she assures him. Probably.
He nods, “Good, don’t do anything stupid and you probably won’t die.”
She can’t help but roll her eyes. The amount of confidence the man has in her is astounding. She knows he means it in jest, and she can hear the concern hidden beneath the words.
She wants to say more, but can’t find the words. This is the first time she’s talked to him in awhile, and it breaks her to know that their final conversation is going to be so short.
So they walk in silence, until they reach their destination, where the Flutterbug and its pilot stand at attention. The pilot, a mask and helmet covering his features, opens the door for her.
Apprehension and nervousness is taking over her body.
This is it. This man, she reads the name tag: Lieutenant Jenkins and the Flutterbug behind him are going to take her out of the Vatican Haven and into Hope City.
Her adventure is just beginning.
“Zestia Fritz?”
She nods blankly.
The situation is kind of surreal, and in her dazed state, she enters the cabin, following the pilot in.
“Let’s go then.” He walks into the cockpit, and just before the door closes, she hears a few yells.
“Bye, Sister Zes!”
“Write home please! Tell us what the outside is like!”
“Give the Magician my regards! And God be with you!” She hears Pope Archie yelling at her.
What? Then the doors close and she can only peer out through the glass at the crowd that is waving goodbye to her.
She feels the cabin shake; only just realizing that they are already starting liftoff.
Realization dawns onto her too late, and she can only stare blankly as the Pope and the crowd behind wave to her, growing smaller as she ascends.
No!
She isn’t ready!
She slams her hand on the window, pressing her forehead against the window, and a choked sob comes out.
She isn’t ready to say goodbye.
She watches in horror as their figures grow smaller, and the buildings of the Vatican City begin to look like a model village she has seen once in a museum. Outside, she can see the Angels flying above the City protecting it watching her, one or two even waving. She doesn’t wave back.
It is when the Obelisk looks about the size of a matchstick, that the first tears begin to fall.
She is leaving the Vatican City, the Vatican Haven, her home for 11 years.
She is going to Hope City.
Alone.
And she does not feel one bit hopeful.
In the cockpit, Lieutenant Jenkins sighs, turning the frequency of his headset to the nearest radio station.
He’d rather not hear a little girl cry for home the entire journey back to the Serpent-tail.