5 : 268 : 03 : 51 : 08

I hang strapped to a big can of metal shooting through the night at 234 miles per hour. The harness binding me to the shuttle wall was made for bigger people and is a bit loose on me. In the event of a sudden stop, I’m pretty sure I’d slip right through and end up pasted on the cockpit door.

I grip the bands tighter as turbulence rocks the vessel, and try not to imagine the worst.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one in the death tube. There are twelve of us in all in the cramped passenger cabin. The others are stout emiri warriors. Special forces. Eleven hard-boiled Dominion paratroopers that eat blackened coal for breakfast and shit diamonds. That might not be a hyperbole. Me being here with them looks only like a hardcore porn scenario, but we’re actually supposed to go to war together.

Nobody says anything.

Maybe they’re shy? Well, let’s break some ice.

“Hi there, fellas,” I greet the gang. “I don’t think we’ve met before. The name’s Zero, age four. Glad to be part of the team. I can see I’m in the company of hard-line professionals. That’s very encouraging. For once, there’s no shortage of muscle on this trip. Let’s go give those beasts a taste of Nam!”

The troopers give me weird looks.

Looks saying, “what the hell’s going on, the squirrel can talk?”, “I thought that was our lunch!”, and “That’s got to be the tiniest uniform set I’ve ever seen.” But I’m not bothered. Or, I am, but I don’t let it show.

“Hey there, brother, what’s your name?” I ask the stone-faced guy on my left.

“Taludim,” he answers.

“Alright, that’s cool. That’s a very—very dependable name. It gives a strong impression. ‘Taludim,’ am I pronouncing it right? By the way, Tally, how long have you been doing this? I mean, butchering unsuspecting, antropomorphic creatures, asserting superiority over clueless savages, and making eternal enemies of fur-friends?”

“I have been a soldier for four hundred years, if that's what you mean,” Taludim says.

“Four hundred…?” I repeat in awe. I can’t see myself doing anything that long, except popping bubble wrap. “Well, well, what do you know. It sounds like bullshit—but I believe it. I can see it in your eyes. If you do something for four hundred years, you must really love it! Isn’t that right? If I wasted four centuries of my time stomping bugs, I’d probably just kill myself, but hey, to each their own!”

Taludim refrains from further comment.

“Oh, not into chit-chat? I get it. Keeping it professional, even after four centuries. I can respect that. Hardcore, man! What about you there? What’s your name?”

I look at the guy facing me across the aisle.

“Edhuan,” he says.

Is that the first name, or the last name, or any of the other names in between?

“Alright, Eddie. Am I hearing a bit of an accent? You’re not from these parts, are you?”

“No, I used to live in Baartia.”

“Wow, that’s on the other side of the map! You are a long way from home! And how long have you been troopering, Eddie?”

He shrugs. “Three years?”

“Three years? My god, you’re almost as new at this as I am! At least, compared to Tally here. Incidentally, I’ve been doing this for two hours! Isn’t that funny? But we all have to start somewhere, don’t we? Even Tally had a day one, four hundred years ago, give or take. I know. Sounds crazy, looking at the guy now—but that’s the way shit works. Truth be told, I can’t tell which one of you I should pity more. What about you there, what’s your name? You look pretty young!”

“Yanon,” the emiri next to Edhuan tells me. “I’ve served in the air force for a hundred and ninety-two years.”

“Oh, you got the pattern down fast, Yano!” I commend him. “Clearly, you’re the brains of the team! Probably too smart to be a paratrooper. And I take right back what I said, about you looking young. A hundred and ninety-two years? Never judge a book by the cover, eh? I should’ve known better. By the way, during that century and change, did you ever consider doing something else?”

“I was a farmer for four thousand years,” Yanon says. “I wished to do more for my people, so I became a soldier. I have very little skill for anything else.”

“Really? It took a lot of courage to change careers at your age, didn’t it? It was very brave of you, taking the leap into the unknown. What did your family have to say about that?”

“Nothing. All my close relatives were killed when the ptoleans launched the Midnight Orchid and wiped out Ghemul, where we had our ancestral homestead.”

I cringe reflexively. “Big oof. I’m—I’m terribly sorry for your loss, man. And I’m sorry for prying open old wounds like that. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“It’s all right,” Yanon assures me. “I got over it. Now, I live only to eliminate enemies of the Dominion. I never knew such clarity in my life before.”

“That’s, uh, nice. Real nice. Now, don’t take this as the wrong kind of understanding, but I feel for you, Yano. We’ve all been there. We’ve all lost someone. Even the Avengers lost someone. Then we picked ourselves back up, made up contrived time travel plans, and came to know the ecstasy of righteous murder.”

“No, I said I got over it. I grieve it no more…”

“No, no, there’s no need to hide it. Losing a loved one—it always sucks, no matter how many times it happens. Time flies by and it sucks no less. You never get used to it. In fact, you shouldn’t get used to it. Even in the middle of all this senseless slaughter, we should never forget the weight of life. So, the next time you’re about to blast somebody’s face off, you should take a moment to remind yourself that this target board has feelings too. Even raccoons can have feelings. Okay, that was my two cents on the topic. Now what about the butchy miss over there? I waited this long to ask your name, so I wouldn’t look like a creep. I’m okay with your phone number and home address too.”

“Be quiet,” the female trooper answers me.

“Ooh, attitude. As the only two females on this squad, I was really hoping we could get along. Who else can I tell about my menstruation cramps? I need a shoulder to cry against, when the walls start closing in. I can only pretend to be a strong independent woman for so long. Frowning too much makes my head hurt.”

“Your fear disgusts me,” she says. “It fills the air like a foul smell. Be silent, foolish animal. You spoil my focus.”

“Relax!” I tell her. “It ain’t Omaha beach we’re off to. No need to try too hard. Plus, if you’re a named character, your odds of survival are basically triple what they’d be if you remain a nameless extra—plus, you might come back as a cyborg in the sequel. These things matter! Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

And a moment later, red hot fire floods the passenger cabin.

5 : 269 : 14 : 58 : 03

The moment of truth has come. I wasn’t too nervous last night and slept pretty well, all in all, but when Master Endol woke me up in the morning and reality slapped me in the face, I came down with an acute case of good old stage fright. Panic. And it’s not getting better.

We stride through a long hallway made of black marble, lit by colorless lamps. A platoon of beefy knights in sparkling orichalcum armors escorts us, gripping titanium spears, their footsteps perfectly synced and heavy as drum beats.

It’s my death sentence being drummed up, no doubt.

Suddenly even the walls look absolutely horrifying to me. Strips of gold run along the mirror-clear stone faces, engraved with small pictographs all the way through. No picture is identical and there are hundreds of them, thousands of them, full of microscopic detail. A machine didn’t print those engravings. A real person carved them by hand. It must’ve taken centuries. But these people did it. They fucking did all this and never once stopped to question the sanity of it. They burned away untold years of their lives just to make this one corridor look cool. Because they could. Because they knew it’d be worth it. And it is. It’s fucking marvelous.

And I’m supposed to make an impression? I barely know how to spell my own name without the numeral!

“I can’t do this,” I confess in a whisper to Master Endol, who walks next to me.

“You will do fine,” he quietly assures me. “I will be with you all the way and support you as well as I am able, if necessary. There is no reason to worry.”

“Well, I sure hope you’ve got some nifty Mass Effect tricks up your sleeve, because there’s no snowball’s chance in Sahara I can pull this off without direct control.”

“Nonsense. You’ve memorized the speech. All that remains is the straightforward formality of its delivery. You know our purpose and what is at stake. The Commander is strict, but also wise and understanding. It is only lies, weakness, and cowardice that she detests. Be sincere and genuine, and all shall be fine.”

Just be yourself, huh? Alright. Easy-peasy. I’ve got this—

“—Like hell it’s fine!” I snap. “Did you already forget, or are you that deep in denial? Being a weak, cowardly cheater is my whole character! And all I can think about is how dumb and fake that speech is! If I don’t buy it, they're not going to buy it! Face it, we’re fucked! We have to get out of here while we still have our heads!”

“Zero.” Master Endol lowers his voice. “We cannot leave now! This is only your exaggerated pessimism talking. Things seem worse in your imagination than they really are! Have courage, and faith in yourself. If not for the world, do it for Lady Irifan.”

“...”

Shit, he sure knows which strings to pull.

No way around it then. I’ve got to make this work. I failed Irifan in Nikéa, I can’t mess up a second time. That's what I said. I never want to walk into her office again, to tell her I dun goof’d. No chance. I need to somehow turn this into smiles, whatever the cost. Bring her the good news.

Alright. Alright, alright.

I can do this. I believe in me. I believe in the me, who believes in me.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Then we come to a tall door.

It’s sculpted of a singular block of mountain crystal eight meters tall. There’s no way to open it by conventional means. On both sides of the way stand two sentries in monstrous armors. At our approach, they touch the door and it turns from solid to Bose-Einstein condensate, allowing guests to pass through.

Our knight escort stops there. Only Master Endol and I may pass.

Through the doorway lies the central goddamn command of Osgonnoth’s armed forces. The heart of the Dominion's military might.

The governor wouldn’t receive us in any old reception hall with tea and biscuits. We’re not important enough for that. A few minutes of her attention on the side of work is the best we get. Mortal kings couldn’t dream of such a favor. Those few minutes are all thanks to Mr Sage here.

Master Endol passes through the door without worries. I follow a step behind. There’s no obvious resistance. It’s just a bit cold. Not wet, despite how liquid it looks, and doesn't stain your clothes.

We enter what looks like the bridge of a spaceship. A long hall the size of the Olympic pool, slightly oval in shape, with a narrow, raised walkway of dark glass passing through in the middle. Magitechnical display terminals line the walls, at which officials dressed in white do—whatever it is they do. I reckon they’re not hosting a LAN party, playing Space Invaders.

In the far back stands projected an overview image of the colossal district, looking like it’s made up of tiny pearls. The image updates in real time, showing different types of data by need.

And then there’s her.

At the end of the walkway, silently overseeing the district map, her back turned to us, is an elven woman.

She’s dressed in a plain, white silk shirt with half-length sleeves. Black breeches. Roman-style sandals on her feet. That’s all. No jewelry, medals, trinkets, or sparkles. No uniforms, badges, capes, or steel bikinis. Her hair’s loose and long enough to reach down to the calves, perfectly straight, clean, and untangled, and it's the rich color of cream. What shampoo does she use? I want some.

Going by the stories, I imagined something like an immortal, pointy-eared version of granny; a cranky, scarred, withered, embittered old crane with a deep-seated hatred for new things. But the real deal looks more like a tall college student. She's got all her body parts still left too. Surprisingly normal.

But there can be no question about it.

No doubt whatsoever.

How do I know?

How do you know where the sun is when you’re outside? You use your goddamn eyes.

It’s her. The legend.

She, who ended the War of the Sky by kicking dragon hordes out of Amarno before clocks and calendars were invented.

She, who mastered the eight forms of combat and became one of the three people in history to hold the title of Eihler-Au—‘Universal Master of Arms’.

She, who killed the twelve Celestial Beasts, and forged weapons out of their bones.

The same gal, who wiped the floor with the Ptolean army and wrapped up the Thousand Year War in the Dominion’s resounding victory.

My heart rate is going out of control again.

A sentry by the door announces our arrival, striking the floor with a heavy staff.

“Your eminence! Sage Endol and an emissary of humankind, Lady Zero, have arrived.”

No need to be so loud.

The big chief turns around to us.

At once, my pulse settles. In fact, my heart stops beating altogether.

My breath—taken away.

Who am I, where am I, and why, none of that matters any longer. My brain throws that pointless junk out through the ears, and my mind is swept spotlessly clean.

Master Endol said he didn’t have the words, and now I know what he meant.

How am I supposed to describe what I see for you? The task is as doomed as it's ungrateful. Only the Old Tongue, the true words uttered by the Gods themselves, can come close to describing the wonders of Lebennaum. English just doesn’t cut it. It’s useless. Completely useless. But I have no choice but to try anyway. It’s my thankless job as the protagonist.

Where do I begin this uphill battle?

I could start with “perfection”—and fail right there.

The word makes it sound like there exists a fixed set of criteria, a limited scope of definitions, and when you’ve checked all the boxes, you get “perfect”. But that doesn’t work at all. Lebennaum’s beauty transcends any spectrum. You can’t put it in a box. It’s a bewildering marvel, a mesmerizing spiral that grows endlessly deeper the longer you look at it.

Captured in her big eyes is the vibrant green of virginal jungles and the deep blue of ocean depths; they’re a pair of flawless jewels in which wisdom and cosmic magic do their dance. Her face is First Love and Final Judgment. Her hair makes silk look coarse and each strand of it holds the vitality of a hundred springs. Her skin is like sand dunes smoothened finer than velvet by the passage of lifetimes; not like the feeble, diseased mush that veils human bodies and rips so easily, but immaculate and incredibly resilient. Her immortal body won't allow her youth to escape, but there’s unspeakable strength cultivated in every fiber of it. The bones that bear her glorious figure stand firmer than the foundations of the earth. Her stellar bosom embodies the hopes and dreams of all living, and the dead would come back to fight the war of Troy again, if the touch of her lips was promised as reward.

Fierce as a dragon. Elegant as a swan.

A typhoon to those she hates and a safe haven to those who put their faith in her.

I could keep printing out awkward similes all day and never get anywhere past scraping the surface.

What am I, next to such a being? My human value and existence are eroded by only standing in the same room with her. Not that I’m actively conscious of my own ruin. The interior of my cerebral cavity only has space left for two emotions that vie for control: absolute bliss, for being allowed to bask in the presence of that gorgeous being—and jealous desire, the fierce will to have that sublime treasure all for myself, and get rid of anyone who could get in the way. I even envy the floor for being allowed to carry her graceful feet.

Lebennaum comes to stand in front of us and greets the nobody next to me.

“Endol. It’s been a while.”

Her words ring gentle and dignified, but they have an underlying shadow to them. Everything Lebennaum says seems to have a hidden double meaning. Even as she expresses gladness over a long-awaited reunion, it comes across half as an accusation. Where have you been, you scoundrel?

Master Endol doesn’t seem to notice it. He bows courteously and returns the greeting like nothing.

“Your eminence. I thank you for receiving us, despite your busy schedule.”

What a lame fucking reply. Is that the best you've got, old guy? You should throw yourself on your knees and be thankful for being spoken to, and in no less words than you put in that crappy speech.

“Is your task among the humans now finished?” Lebennaum continues to ask him. “Are you ready to come back to us?”

It sounds like casual small talk, but bears a compulsion no different from a direct command.

“My apologies,” Master Endol replies, keeping his head down. “I have learned much in my time in Noertia—including how much I still have left to learn. I am grateful for each day I may spend among humankind, coming to terms with the humble limits of my character.”

How he won’t take the hint and dares to decline, it’s borderline treason.

“I see,” Lebennaum comments with slight disappointment, her enamouring visage like the midday sun briefly shadowed by a passing cloud. “I confess, I hoped your endeavor would fail and you would be with us again. Defeated, perhaps, but no less welcome. Our people have great need of their Sage in these days. And by his absence is the need made more pronounced.”

She continues to guilt-trip Endol between the lines, suggesting he’s practically a deserter. But he makes no note of it and brazenly deflects,

“And I do confess, in turn, that I have at times wished for my own failure also, and the release that comes with it. Yet, of little aid would I be to my esteemed people, if I could not bring peace even to those beneath us. I take solace in knowing your eminence has the company of minds superior to my own, even as I toil in my self-imposed exile.”

“Hm.” Lebennaum makes a small, helpless smile, the last attempt to breach his guard through sheer charm. “When a Sage declares his calling, who am I to argue? I do feel the humans have been given a gift they know not the worth of. But it is yours to give.”

“I shall endeavor to return as soon as I may, made better for the experience,” the Master replies and the topic is done.

It may sound like she’s given up, but the look in her eyes makes it clear the matter is only postponed, not settled, and she’ll still be the winner by the end.

“Now then,” Lebennaum moves on. “I am told you are here for a reason of special importance. You have my attention, Endol, so tell me—what can the Master of the Golden Cradle do for you?”

“Very well.” Master Endol straightens his posture. “Without further ado, I shall let my travel companion present her message, on behalf of the mortals of Noertia.”

——“Huh?”

Suddenly, I’ve become the center of attention.

In fact, everyone in the room has stopped whatever they were doing just to stare at me.

They don't get a lot of human guests, do they? I might be the first. But I barely notice the others. Those worthless husks mean nothing to me. The only thing that matters is the recognition of that spectacular person, its hefty mass now entirely on me. There's no noble in the world who could feel as privileged as I do. Every second spent in the soul-tickling embrace of her eyes is paradise to me. I drink in her gaze, lost in its intoxicating, molten brilliance.

“Ahaha...Uhumm...Wow. I…”

Right. I was supposed to say something.

I have a feeling I came here for a very good reason. But what was that again?

Something about towers and metal balls, alliances against some evil dude, the end of the world, or whatever. Really, who gives a shit? I’d rather cut off my own tongue, than bother the delicious-looking ears of that divine being with such cringey drivel. There must be something a lot better I could say, given this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Like, Put a leash on me and call me a pig!

Oh god. I can’t concentrate at all. I’m having trouble breathing. Is it just me, or is it getting real hot in here? Who’s messing with the thermostat?

“Aa...err…The—uhh…”

I squirm and drill the floor with my shoetip, feeling feverish, and try to think. It's not coming to me at all.

Lebennaum tilts her head, her stare boring deeper into me. Oh. My. Lord. She’s so cute and majestic at the same time. I want to scream. I want to be smothered between her thighs. I'm gonna explode. My knees are about to buckle. It takes all I’ve got just to keep standing and I hope and pray she won't notice the waterfall in my pants.

“Zero…!” Master Endol whispers my name, unusual distress in his tone. “The speech! Get a hold of yourself!”

I won’t hear it.

Shut up. Don’t bother me now.

Can’t you tell I’m experiencing something amazing?

Lebennaum stares at me in silence for a time, her expression mostly only bored. I can tell helping humans, for whatever reason, concerns her as much as watching grass grow.

Yeah, I get the feeling. I totally understand.

I don’t really care about any of that either. My life is so short and soon over. Why waste any more of it fighting and suffering for the good of others? Here I’ve come face to face with the summit of my worldly journey. It simply can’t get any better. So I’ll rather savor the bliss I feel now, for what it lasts—until they throw me out and tell me not to come back.

But, to my surprise—and probably Master Endol’s too—they don’t throw us out.

The goddess's lips suddenly twist into a mischievous smile that flips my guts upside down. She steps forward and comes to stand right in front of me, so close I could easily reach out and touch her—what a sinful, blasphemous thought! Towering over me, reveling in the absolute dominance she has over me, she binds me with her eyes and leans even closer. With a finger, she nudges my chin upward and softly speaks,

“Say, you small thing, would you like to be of service to me?”

Huh? Who? Me?

Did I really hear that right?

I spend the total of 0.002 seconds thinking it over, or more like, struggling to accept that any mortal human could get so stupidly lucky. Who would've thought? Dreams can come true.

Of course, there’s only one answer I can give to such a miraculous offer, and I hurry to present it with an ecstatic sigh,

“Oh yes.”