Remus had never had so much fun as flying through the air, eliminating enraged bat after bat with fierce swerves of blue.
The swarm they were clearing out infested a stretch of the battlefield not too far away from their camps. Ugly, brutish Unbounded with taloned wings eager to be painted the gold of Ichor. This was a pretty standard commission, taking down a relatively weak cluster of Unbounded, though one in irritating numbers.
Smoke filtered through the air, swathes of sandy grey blasted open by fireball after fireball. The screeching Unbounded, a little larger than the size of a palm each, either dropped to the corpse-littered floor below, or were already dissipating.
Remus identified a large group fleeing upwards, relying on the universal instinct to flee. He would not let them.
Up and up he rose, an orb of azure blasting out of him like a contained bomb. A score of fiends were sizzled to a crisp instantly. Taking a moment to breathe, he peered down at the rest of the battlefield.
Violet was a purple blur, causing destruction wherever she appeared. Clumps of earth would disfigure, like a screen glitching, before reappearing as mounds of disintegrating Unbounded.
A seabed of fire coated everything, and Remus knew people would recognise their squadron’s work here, by the charred stretch of ground left behind. Within that red ocean, Flame Clansmen pardaded about the place, sizzling any of the fiends that dared stray too close, or sending off flaming projectiles to pierce the air above.
Hadrian was a walking titan overseeing their operation, and Remus meant that literally. Violet had before described to him the towering mass of fire he had become, when the Tarlords attacked the pair of them so long ago. Now Remus could confirm — it was an awe-inspiring sight. Lava streamed like decorative strips through the building-sized creation, and the man seemed to be having all the fun in the world.
When dealing with so many Godlings and God-Graced, Remus sometimes forgot how powerful a Splintered Rank alone could be. Hadrian likely could have taken this job solo and still produced similar results.
He wondered if he too one day would be able to employ a similar ability. Yet even that was a far cry from the horrors of war he had witnessed Maris and Juniper create. Everything was relative.
Remus spotted Tanguy in the heat of the battle, moving faster than he knew the man capable. He was back-to-back with Aziel, and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the thought they were competing for who could deliver more Unbounded to the grave.
The fight ended when the manufacturer of this swarm — Unbounded terminology would never not be weird — finally reared their face. They were the size of a comet, each great flutter of their bat-wings possessing destructive force. Remus didn’t have time to estimate their Rank-equivalence, when Hadrian crushed them between two oversized hands.
They concentrated to an ultrastellar white, and the Unbounded was burned down to their Infinity in the most efficient takedown Remus had ever witnessed.
All Unbounded cleared, Remus flew down to the others, gathering in the middle of the black wasteland they had left behind. Clansmen were either sprawled out on the floor, recovering as fast as possible, or stretching idly. He used the momentum of his descent to stumble over to Tanguy, Aziel, and Violet. Hadrian was at their back, composing himself after that monstrous display of power.
He grinned affably at them all. “Pay day.”
After this was all wrapped up, Remus would be able to send his second check straight to the Carpentry Clan. The Scholar Sect handled all of that technical jargon, making the process surprisingly easy. It had only been two Durations so far of diligent work, and he had already amassed them a small fortune.
He wasn’t sure how they would react with Remus of all people sinking all the Inklings he could into their bank accounts. Then, when he wasn’t busy either training or fulfilling commissions for extra cash, Remus spread the good word for anybody looking for something to be repaired or built.
As for actually visiting his family, Remus couldn’t locate them for the life of him. He was starting to fear Violet had been wrong with her account of spotting Damion. The front lines encompassed the entire world in one vigorous stretch, and for all Remus knew, they were on the complete opposite side.
Remus tried to not let it get to him however, content with simply supporting his family from afar for now. He would have to see Andreas soon, however. You could never take your chances with an ailment as severe as his.
Dinner wasn’t for a few more hours. With nothing better to do, and everybody preeoccupied with their own tasks, Remus set himself to his favourite, and only hobby: training like an absolute lunatic.
He settled down in a discreet spot away from the camps, underneath a protrusion of rock. No Unbounded were likely to come this close, and Remus would be relatively undisturbed well past dinner time.
He closed his eyes, channeled Infinity for a few minutes, before the sound of someone approaching snapped his eyes open.
“So the prodigal son returns.”
Remus blinked. Then blinked again. When he was certain this was reality, he trembled to a stand.
“Daimon.” He croaked. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I could say the same.”
Remus advanced closer, opening his hands for a hug. He dropped them at one cold look from his brother.
“Where were you?”
For the most part, Damion looked the same from their last meeting. He still shared the same shade of dark ginger in his locks, still shot a foot or so taller than Remus, though the distance was shrinking. Everything was exactly as he remembered, save for, say, five percent. Yet that five percent changed everything.
He stood up straighter. Damion had always had good posture, yet he held himself with a new level of self-respect. Like he had been met with the crushing weight of responsibility, and had risen to the challenge. There wasn’t a smile. A stoic line of the lips that barely counted as a scowl, but couldn’t have been anything else. His arms were crossed, representing a barrier between the two.
Remus took a step closer, only to be stopped by a hand raised by Damion.
“You forced Edmar’s anger on our clan. Acquired a Droplet through illicit means. You broke out of prison and fled with a wanted fugitive, then became one yourself, getting involved with affairs beyond you.”
“I had to Damion. Look, I can expl-”
“No.” That one word felt to Remus like a punch to the gut. “Andreas — your great grandfather — has been dying, and you’ve been busy with gods’ know what.” He didn’t raise his voice, maintaining that analytical tone that was so infuriatingly reasonable. He almost wished Daimon would shout at him instead. Even used violence; anything would have been better than this.
“You’re not even Foot-Soldier. You snuck in here?”
“It was for the clan.”
“Was it?”
Remus’ hopes may have become true, for aggression leaked into Damion’s tone. “Was any of this for the clan, Remus?”
“Yes, of course. Why el-”
He felt a finger point into his chest, “you really have to ask yourself that Remus: did you leave to get power, to please some frustration within you, or did you really do this all for us? For your family. I can’t tell.”
“I needed power to help. Yes, obviously getting so strong has been nice . . .” Remus trailed off. Everything sounded so flimsy, even on his own lips, even to his own ears.
Damion sighed. “You have helped us, Remus. Telling the Ambition Clan to get construction done by us was the biggest job we’ve landed in years. I assume you’re also sending the clan most of your profits as a soldier now. You’ve done good, a lot more that I don’t know about, I'm sure, but does it level out the bad?”
The fact Remus had no answer to that told them both everything they needed to know.
Damion sighed. “C’mon. The others will be eager to see you.”
It turned out the Carpentry Clan weren’t positioned too far away from where his squadron was based. It was at most a twenty minute walk, five if Remus flew. Though, he wasn't sure how his brother would react to that, so for now went ahead on foot.
The site was a lot more advanced than any Remus had seen, which made sense, considering this was the Carpentry Sect they were talking about. Instead of tents, that Remus really was tired of the sight of, the image of wooden huts was a breath of fresh air. He recognised the clansmen mulling about, carrying crates, building supplies, or various tools piling up. They hadn’t noticed him yet, though Remus strongly suspected their reactions wouldn’t be as relaxed, relatively speaking, as Damion’s had been.
Remus had left as a scrawny, brooding young man with a short temper and even shorter stature. Now he here he was, a Rebirth or so later, after both a power and growth spurt. Then there were the blue eyes, free of whites. He liked the simple alteration, and wondered what his family would make of it.
At the forefront of his mind was Andreas. He almost feared to see the man. It wasn’t that he was lacking in excitement — far from it — but how would he cope with seeing his body immersed by Rot? To know his lifeline was shrinking like a fuse set to flame. Or would he be grey and battered, like how Remus and their squadron left their battlefield charred? It was a losing battle, Remus’ mind knew full well. It was his soul that had trouble digesting it.
“Hey, what Rank are you?” Remus asked carefully.
“Foot-Soldier.” Damion replied, without a break.
Remus stopped moving in the centre of the base. His brother kept walking for a few seconds, before turning to face him.
“But barely anyone in our clan has been able to get past Emblazed since . . . since Andreas.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
It was the curse of being a sect that didn’t lend itself to combat. To get the resources and training needed to advance further past Emblazed, you had to expose yourself to danger. The only feasible way to acquire Infinity was common sense: going to an Infinity rich area and basking the essence there. But there were a thousand caveats to that. Where there was Infinity, there was danger. Danger like Unbounded or enemy clansmen competing for the resource. It was the kind of danger you had no right to be facing unless you could defend yourself.
Being able to build a pretty house wouldn’t really help you much when face-to-face with the most hideous servant Infinity had to offer. Yet Damion had somehow done the impossible.
“What?” He smiled. “You thought you were the only one defying reality?”
A memory tugged at Remus from the outer bounds of his memory. The words Violet had told him, when describing who she had thought to be Damion. Remus had since discarded that sighting as her being mistaken, but more importantly, he always glossed over the most important facet of that account. It was how Damion had been fighting.
“Andreas taught me a few tricks while you were gone.” His smile vanished, leaving a ghost of it behind. “Back when his condition wasn’t so . . .”
He shook his head. “Let’s carry on. Mom and dad will want to see you.”
By now, more than one person had spotted Remus. Their expressions were near unreadable. A bizarre admixture of surprise, disguised rage, joy, a pinch of intrigue, and too many emotions to count.
He waved to them, smiling gawkily, before following Damion into the largest hut of all. This one didn’t appear as ramshackle as the others, though even with those, that term could only be used loosely. For a temporary set-up, the clan had outdone themselves. The building was more of a cabin, he now realised, and he admired the fine work of polished poles as he entered into the antechamber.
Aiden and Briella saw him first. They rushed over to him, and Remus froze at the sight of their faces. Memories flooded back. Aiden’s stiff stoicism. Briella’s unconditional, motherly love. Recalling both, to see them here now, mere feet away, in the flesh . . . what would they think? How would they react to their own son running away, for what appeared to be selfish desires? They may try to discipline him, complain how he was selfish; how he hadn’t been thinking straight. That they were ashamed of him.
Instead, they did something very different.
In tandem, they cried out his name, tugging him into a tight hug. Remus’ eyes widened, feeling the warmth of their shoulders pressing against his. A warmth he hadn’t felt for so long.
“You had us so worried for you.” He heard Briella choke up, and the sound of it made his own throat restrict.
“Next time you want to do something stupid, talk to us about it first, alright?”
“Y-yeah.” Remus muffled, the trio pulling away only a few moments later.
Briella opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by a booming voice, one emerging from an adjacent chamber.
“Is that my joint favourite great grandson I hear?”
Remus virtually scrambled into the chamber, his eyes stunned once he set them on Saige. The bespectacled woman looked just as startled as he was, if not more. “Remus!”
“Hey Saige-!” Remus cut himself off, and he felt like crying at the sight of Andreas, cosy in his hospital bed. He couldn’t tell whether it was out of delight or sorrow.
He was covered from head to toe in bandages. Save for his neck and above. His face that had never before been so wrinkled bore into his, the embodiment of wistful happiness.
“You’ve been on quite the journey, haven’t you?” Andreas chucked. Saige urged him to not get so excited, but the words were lost on the elderly man.
“It's been the busiest year of my life.”
So busy in fact, Remus almost couldn’t believe it had only been a year. It put into perspective all the progress he had made, each trial and tribulation. He looked back on it all with a mix of early nostalgia and pride, and yet another minority in his mind almost laughed at how insane it all was. His birthday was coming up too. Seventeen earlier than he cared to fathom.
It occurred to him then that he didn't know the birthdays of Koa or Violet. Strange, but it had never surfaced in conversation. It was something to reflect on later, at least.
“The blue eyes suit you.” Andreas whisked him out of the short reverie. “Why don’t you tell us how you got them?”
“And everything else you’ve been so preoccupied with.” Damion snickered.
Remus took a heavy breath. It was a long story. He told them such, but they insisted he told them every last detail of his exploits.
“There are some parts I can’t tell you right now, nothing bad, don’t worry. Well, relatively.” Eyebrows were raised, but Remus continued nevertheless. “It went a little something like this . . .”
----------------------------------------
Remus spent the night at the Carpentry Clan base, a quick message to Hadrian informing the man of his short absence. There was a spare bed in one of the nearby huts, a stone’s throw away from where his blood relatives stayed.
Yet, as Remus twisted and turned in his covers, he was restless. After perhaps two hours of this, he decided to take a late night stroll instead. It was dark out, with the stars above glistening like jewels embedded into an endless bedrock.
Everything had gone as well as it could have. Damion had quickly come around at his story, which, while he had to censor some parts to protect Violet’s identity, Remus tried to explain things in vague terminology. They got the gist at least.
His parents were just happy to have him back, and multiple carpenters had come up to him, asking about his various adventures. Word had spread like wildfire about the unbelievable things Remus’ last year had consisted of. Some of the youngest of the sect looked at him like some kind of fairy tale hero put to life.
But he felt off. It was this feeling, this strangeness that refused him sleep. As he walked under the dark blue abyss of night, he tried to come to terms with the foreign emotion. No words of reassurance would make the dark cloud budge.
Only when he noticed that there was light coming from his family’s chambers, did Remus muster up the courage to enter.
Most people were asleep, it appeared. It took him by surprise to see that Andreas’ chamber was lit. He took a deep breath, compelled by his peculiar state of mind, and entered.
It was one surprise after another, for Remus feared Saige may have accidentally left a few candles burning before leaving. Saige was gone at this time of course, nearby, but likely asleep in her own chambers. Andreas, much to Remus’ relief, sat up straight in his bed. Very much so awake.
He wasn’t sure what the man had been doing. Reading a book by candlelight? No, there was no reading material anywhere in sight.
His great Grandfather’s head was perched up, like he had been deep in thought. It became clear the man had simply been thinking away the night hours, perhaps kept awake by his own demons. That was a strange thought, thinking of what issues a man as powerful as Andreas may have. There was one very big, very clear one of course. As for what else . . . Remus was left wondering.
“Can’t sleep either?” He asked, eventually noticing his grandson.
“No.” Remus smirked. What had been plaguing his mind suddenly became crystal clear to Remus. It was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m sorry, grandad.”
Andreas looked aghast. As if he had just witnessed Remus punch an elderly woman before roundhouse kicking a puppy. “Whatever could you be sorry for?”
“For not being here when you needed me most. For leaving to gain power from another sect. I feel like . . .” It was difficult to articulate his emotions. They made perfect sense in his mind, like the logic system of an alien world, but fitted imperfectly when put under the lens of this one.
“Remus, my boy . . . you have done nothing but make me proud.” He grasped Remus’ wrist, and he could feel the power within his grandfather. The strength had been weakened, but the wisdom; the legacy of so many years . . . it could never be lost. “Do you understand what a help you and your brother have been? Hmm, do you?”
“Damion is the one who-”
“You’re not giving yourself the credit you deserve!” Andreas looked angry — no, furious. “Your brother may have been the one to prove our sect still has the power to make good soldiers. But you Remus, don’t you see how the youngest of us look at you? How we all look at you?”
Remus wanted to scoff. “They still see me as Death-Marked. No, actually, it's worse now. They think I’m a deserter-”
“They look at you like you’re a god walking amongst us! You inspire them, Remus. Hell, you inspire me! The length you went to acquire power, to try and support your clan any way possible, even when the universe pinned everything against you . . . I couldn’t have done it myself. It's the stuff of legends. I’m so, so proud of you.”
Remus swallowed. The praise made him feel warm, and attacked those dark emotions. Though they didn’t quite kill them.
“I haven’t done enough. I don’t want to lose all of you. I don’t want our sect to be crushed in this damn war.”
“Remus.” Andreas softened his tone, like selecting a new mode of attack. “One person can’t save an entire sect. You’re not responsible for the entire sect. You’ve done more than you know already.”
“What?” Remus did scoff this time. “Bring down Edmar’s wrath? Bring shame to the family name through crime after crime? Could do nothing as people died for my sake?”
His great grandfather said nothing, as if a wound somehow greater than the Rot had been inflicted upon his heart. “Remus. I know I don’t know every detail, but you’re a good lad. I don’t know who you’ve lost along the way, but I’m sure they'd be proud of you.”
“And if they're not?”
Andreas placed a bandaged arm on Remus' shoulder. “Take every step forward with their desires and dreams in your heart. Make them proud with how you spend the rest of your days, and the legacy you leave behind. But, I’m terribly sorry my boy, I must say you’re the most moronic young man I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.”
Remus agreed with the words, but had never expected Andreas to be so blunt. It was almost like he was going back on everything he’d said. “What?”
“How can you so stubbornly refuse to see the impact you’ve made? On the people you’ve met, but even more indirectly, your clan.”
“If you mean two paychecks and one well-paying job-”
“Mark my words Remus.” Andreas smirked. “You and your brother’s efforts have led this clan into a new age of prosperity. All day, I’ve been seeing the kids playing soldier, the jaded teens who fancy a try at Damion’s training style. Even the mothers and fathers, implanted with a desire for their children to follow in your two’s footsteps. You’ve started a trend, Remus. A hope to walk through a path I long since thought forgotten, left to the dark after I trekked down it myself. Imagine in the coming years, where each Rebirth will result in dozens of our kind heading to the front lines.”
He stopped, and Remus didn’t utter another word. Part of him wanted to deny his every reassurance, each word of praise too good to be true. But what if it was?
“I get what you’re saying, but it's Damion who deserves all the acclaim. He started the spark that’ll kickstart the revolution you’re talking about.”
“I won’t deny Damion’s contribution, and he worked very hard to reach Foot-Soldier. Maybe harder than I ever did. But I won’t sit here and let you undersell yourself. Your brother may have set the groundwork, but you, Remus, planted the seeds of ambition into us all. If a Death-Marked of a non-combat oriented sect can rise to Foot-Soldier — oh, don’t give me that look, you’re bound to hit it within a few Passings — what excuse do they have?”
All of Remus' uneasy feelings dissolved. Like demonic claws, slowly lightning their grip off him. He took in a breath, let his shoulders drop, and a body he hadn’t realised to be so tense finally relaxed.
“Thank you, grandad. I’m only just beginning, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But I’ll make you proud. If I’m to become an example for everybody, I’ll become the best mentor possible. I’ll put my all into everything.”
Andreas simply smiled, only for the bittersweet moment to be undercut by an abrupt yawn. Like a bear awakening from hibernation a little too early.
“Well,” he stretched. “I suppose it's best if we rest and recover. You’ll need a lot of energy to answer all the questions of your new fanclub tomorrow.”
Remus laughed. “Yeah, yeah.”
The Warlord blinked. “I’m being serious Remus. They’ll probably be after autographs.”
He stared at Andreas. He was waiting for the punchline, and felt like quite the fool when he inevitably did burst out in cackles. “I’m joking of course. But I wouldn’t be surprised . . .”
“I hope not. Goodnight, grandad.”
“Goodnight, son.”
With that, Remus left. His mind was too overwhelmed with thoughts to rest just yet, so he sat in the grass outside his chambers. It was wet, though Remus didn’t mind — he could have been five thousand miles away.
The stars above were so distant. So unimaginably far. It was with that same awe that Remus regarded how far he had left to go. Yet, paradoxically, so much had transpired since he was a humble, angsty Death-Marked with anger management issues.
A warm feeling, one he didn’t quite understand, persisted behind his chest. Remus basked in that feeling, as rain began to fall from clouds he couldn’t see. Up in the sky, he stared, and for hours, it stared back at him.