When Violet had finally adjusted to her new routine, a simple life of fulfilling commissions and eating her fill, existence decided to throw her a curveball.
At first, Violet wasn’t suspicious. Hadrian had called them all to gather in the central auditorium of their nearest barracks. The scepticism didn’t start to arise until after she saw who else had cared to join them — and it wouldn’t be an understatement to say fifty other squadrons.
Immediately, within a second of entering, her attention was drawn to the three figures standing proudly at the helm of the procession. The Pillars of Descent’s army: the Archery, Martial Arts, and Swordsman God-Graced.
The Sword and Martial sect leaders were clearly twins. Boisterous expressions, and the same general looks and airs enveloped the pair. It looked to Violet as if they were doing their best not to burst out into laughter, like they were part of a hilarious inside joke only the pair of them were in on. Long messy fringes nearly covered their eyes, light brown in colour. Regardless, it did little to disguise how young the brothers appeared, like they had simply ceased to age upon reaching their twenties.
For that to have been possible, both men must have reached a high Rank extraordinarily fast. The ageing process progressively slackened with each new Rank attained, and seemed to cease all together at the advent of God-Graced. This resulted in one key enquiry among every scientist scattered across Descent: what would occur if a child was to ascend to the upper reaches of the Divine Ranks? Would they simply stop growing all-together, forever embodying their youthful form? Whatever the case, no matter how many elixirs or magic pills you could afford, or stuff into yourself, there was one key ingredient needed to ascend the heights of power. One you couldn’t ignore, or work around, or find loopholes to exploit.
Time. The body needed time to stabilise between each new summit reached. Remus was pushing things as it was, but even he would need to slow down once it came to the higher Ranks. It simply wasn’t feasible for the body to handle so many jumps in power, without at least a short time interval in between. Rest and recovery was sometimes more important than the training itself.
At least in a fully human being. As an Unbounded, Violet may have been able to leap from Rank to Rank, as long as there was enough Infinity. But even her human side couldn’t ignore basic safety. It could suffer from some dangerous consequences, if she didn't take it easy. Organs, cells, flesh and blood couldn’t handle frequent, vast leaps in power. In the same way a plant would wilt if over-watered. There could be too much of a good thing.
The Archery God-Graced was a limber woman. Her hair was dyed half silver, the rest left to what Violet presumed was her natural hue of blonde. Not unlike the twins, she herself appeared quite young, as far as God-Graced went. Early thirties perhaps, but Violet suspected her actual age far proceeded the youthful front. Most God-Graced or Godlings reached the monumental Rank between the ages of fifty and one-hundred. If people did bother to keep track of the youngest clansmen to have ever ascended to God-Graced, Violet didn’t suppose she would want to know the title-bearer.
The woman uttered something to one of the twins, who couldn’t quite seem to compose himself. Violet hoped this was some trivial matter, and the man wasn’t a nervous laugher. Otherwise, they really were in way over their heads. What could elicit nerves from a God-Graced?
Everyone quietened down, as he sauntered slowly to a lectern. Violet never had heard an introduction so blunt. “My brother Gilmat, and Eshika, alongside myself, have called this committee for a dire reason.”
Violet half-suspected Griffin, who she overheard the name of, to be building up to some dramatic punchline. Only the terse lines comprising his grimace told her otherwise.
Seeing them right here before her, the three great Pillars that supported and upheld the military, preventing Unbounded from pillaging the main cities of the Mortal Realms, Violet found herself . . . underwhelmed. More impressive than anything they had to show, was the simple fact both brothers had grown to be leaders of different clans. Of course, inter-clan marriages were more common in the Three Pillars than arguably any other clan. Most of their children came into this world with three inactive Marks, getting to choose whichever of the paths they most desired. With hardly any pressure to conform to one god’s power or the other, they had more freedom from the offset than most people could fathom.
It took Violet perhaps thirty seconds to realise that in the absence of any spoken word, her mind had sunk neck-deep into that reverie. It was like an executioner was being forced to announce his own sentence. So in order to delay that swishing axe, Griffin hesitated with each uttered syllable.
“Get on with it,” Violet read Eshika’s whispering lips.
“Multiple Right-bearers have appeared concerningly close to our bases,” he spoke so quickly, it was like the words had become lodged in his throat, now finally pouring out at the resolution of the blockage. “Belindo, the Supreme Fiend, and the third entity. Whom, to this day, we remain ignorant of the exact detail of. The Pet-Keeper has also been scarily active, as of late.”
Violet’s head flickered to Remus, and the rest of their squadron. They shared the same reaction as everyone else in the room. Take any painting depicting some horrific tragedy, and examine the fine details of their expressions. That is what they bore; replicated a hundredfold across the room.
Before every riotous outcry, there is a split second of silence. A fleeting moment when the breath catches in your throat, and the world seems to freeze over. In an ice age lasting little more than that second. The rush of adrenaline when a vase tilts over a desk, or you witness some ignorant fool about to make the worst decision of their life.
Before the resulting implosion of noise could break out, Gilmat spoke. His voice resonated across every inch of the chamber, as crystal-clear as the drawing of a sword.
“To put simply,” all prior hints of humour ceased to be, “we are calling for an emergency operation. Together, we'll push back the Right-bearers and their minions. Then, we’ll eradicate them. So terrifically that Enos will see no purpose in conjuring another generation for us to beatdown.”
Finally, the pressure in the room reached a breaking point. Like a volcano erupting, the pandemonium of noise that proceeded was enough to deafen a newborn.
People objected. Entire squadrons stormed out of the auditorium. Others cried out in boisterous agreement, ready and willing to sacrifice anything to defend their clans and put an end to the Right-bearing cycle.
Hadrian’s squad — Violet’s squad — practically froze rigid. Her eyes wandered to Remus, and in his own gaze, she found nothing but grim resolution.
Whatever it took, he was going to get revenge for Andreas. He was going to kill any Right-bearers that got in his way. He was going to kill the Supreme Fiend. And, at that moment, Violet believed it.
Eshika stomped her foot so aggressively, the wooden panels below snapped. “Did we excuse you to leave?”
Those words could have given anybody in the departing crowd a heart attack. With great shame, and bowed heads, they shambled back into the room.
“There’s going to be a council larger than this. Very, very soon. Nearly every God-Graced concerned with the war effort will be there. I expect they'll begin their arrival within the hour.”
Heads flickered around the room, as hundreds of people searched their inner sense for any oncoming waves of energy. There was none, as far as Violet’s own instincts told her.
“As for what this will mean for you,” Griffin regained his confidence. “It isn’t lightly that I say this: the vast majority of you, standing before me here, are going to be away from your clans, and even the modest comfort of the barracks here. As you can infer from the stakes we’re facing, this won’t be a short operation, but one lasting Passings or more. We simply cannot let the front lines fall.”
His next words made Violet’s heart dip. “As we speak, they’re getting closer.”
As so there was silence.
Until a wave of energy hit them in the face. That of Warlords, God-Graced and Godlings. They had begun to arrive.
Violet felt her mind fester in its own thoughts, dissociating from reality. In the meantime, her husk of a body followed the crowds to an even larger gathering spot. An open amphitheatre, not too dissimilar to the arena Remus fought in. Only on a much larger scale.
She had known first hand, perhaps better than anyone, that the Unbounded were making drastic moves. Yet now everything felt so real; so comparatively visceral to the accepted fact that things were getting pretty bad. Gone was the separation of reality from the troubling foreknowledge kept in the depths of her stomach.
Now a foreboding era had fallen upon them: a tumultuous time where Unbounded triggered quakes so fierce, they trembled even the deepest roots of humanity.
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“Well,” Hadrian exhaled a sigh they had all been carrying. “I wasn’t expecting this when I woke up this morning.”
“I think you’d have to be pretty damn cynical to expect something like this.”
“Or observant.” Violet countered Remus. “The Unbounded have given us enough warning that something this severe was bound to happen. I just wasn’t expecting it so soon.”
“Nothing bad waits for your approval to happen.” Hadrian lamented, as they located a free row of seats. He stood standing as everyone sat down. They all stared at him, waiting for whatever it was on his mind.
“I don’t mean to be patronising, but a good chunk of you are merely Emblazed. I’ll understand if you don’t feel comfortable with partaking in something that will easily kill swaths of Foot-Soldiers. If you would like to leave, please make yourself heard now.”
When nobody moved a muscle, Violet was startled to see anger heat up the Mercenary’s face. “You have to understand. You must know the real extent of the danger you’re getting yourself into. You’re going to be up against the likes of Right-bearers. There’s an undeniable chance that you'll die minutes, if not seconds, into the battle. My gods, there could not be a worse time to be an Emblazed in the military.”
Violet panned her eyes across the group. She waited patiently for one to finally relent, and accept this operation was bigger than them. Despite their ashen expressions, they remained resolute. Every single one of them.
“I want you all to promise me that you won’t regret this choice, no matter what happens. Even if you perish as collateral within seconds. Promise me.”
Everyone assented, with Tanguy never looking scarier as he did.
“You’re all very foolish,” Hadrian smirked wistfully. “And very brave.”
Aziel beamed rakishly. “Hey, to join this squadron in the first place, we must have been.”
Merry laughter, painfully bittersweet, broke out all around. Their attentions were snagged as everyone recognised one arriving figure instantly: Cyrus.
He entered from the highest tier of the amphitheatre, obviously reserved for sect leaders. Thorns enveloped his fist as he sat down, crawling around the ancient stone of the reserved seating, as if it had a mind of its own. He waved over to them, features strained from burn-out. They all gestured a greeting back, but it was hard to focus, as more powerful beings poured in.
Violet had never seen so many sect leaders gathered in one space, and for good reason. Under any other circumstances, they’ll likely jolt for each other’s throats.
She recognised a scattering of people instantly. Eliane from the Reptilian Clan; the geriatric leader of the Vitality sect, Elosie. Both were chatting politely with one another like old friends. Elsewhere, doing their best not to look each other in the eye, Maris and Juniper adorned equally regal fronts. Javil was seated in between the pair, and if it wasn’t for the fact he was a whirling sandstorm, he probably would have looked awkward beyond compare.
Even Brison had made the effort to arrive, detached from the rest of society as the Ambition Clan normally was.
Violet’s mind had never had so much fun, picking out leader after leader. A man made entirely of cloud signalled the leader of the titular sect. If Maris was avoiding Juniper’s gaze to save herself a string of dirty looks, Tushar was repaying her tenfold. If not for his Rank, Violet probably would have mistaken the man as being deathly ill. His skin was paler than ivory.
There was Damosh, of course, appearing as cordial as ever. His eyes were distant, however, as if he had already written this off as a worthless gathering — the mind departing before the body.
She didn’t pay him any extra attention. Instead, Violet found herself engrossed, examining the countless other leaders she had been yet to meet. A full plethora, dozens upon dozens. There was someone clad fully in metal skin and heavy armour; a rakish young man with an earnest smile and lightning yellow hair that sparked every so often; a blind-folded woman with about sixty or more blue eyes, clearly overcompensating; and . . .
And . . . her heart stopped. Nova. There he was, perfectly blending in, between a manic gang of Anarchy leaders, those ready to throttle each other like unopened bottles at any tentative second. She recognised the crazed duo of the Fury and Greed leaders — Hilda and Gulliver — though was too overwhelmed at the sight of her father to notice.
“Now that’s some gall.” Remus rasped under his breath.
“How could he?” Violet’s breath came out like hot magma. “Masquerading even here . . .”
He hadn’t noticed them. Violet very much hoped that would remain the case.
Remus laughed cynically. “Looks like they’re all gathered here: the people who hate us most.”
Violet spotted a shroud of darkness, like a strip of twilight moulded into the shape of man.
“Nova, Damosh, Tushar and the Old One . . .” Remus leaned back a little in his seat, and Violet felt compelled to join him.
If any in that list cared to notice the pair of them, things could have gotten messy. Thankfully, Violet was assured by the fact a council meeting was probably reason enough to leave the two alone, for now at least. Some things in life came above settling petty squabbles with Emblazed.
She wondered how this was all going to play out. A hundred sect leaders yelling over each other didn’t sound productive. Would the representatives of each alliance speak on behalf of the group? What was stopping some giant fight from breaking out? Perhaps a temporary Divine Ground had been established, but that alone didn’t settle Violet’s nerves.
Her questions were answered when the Three Pillars entered the centre of the field below. Either she had been too absorbed in thought to notice their arrival, or they had come startlingly quick. Surprisingly, the place went silent.
“Thank you all for attending.” Energy made Eshika’s voice resonate across the entire space. “It is not lightly that the three of us arranged this mass meeting, but I do believe there is good reason. When I say this, know I speak with complete and utter conviction: if we do not intervene soon, the front lines could fall. Or, perhaps more accurately, they will.”
There was a general muttering all about. Violet realised there must have been some sort of audible suppression. Otherwise, the monstrous response would have blown the eardrums out of some of the weaker clansmen. Several God-Graced shook their heads, appearing though Perpetual Sight, if not in the flesh.
“The reaction to this won’t be good.” Hadrian’s face was grim. “They’ll say it’s fearmongering.”
Eshika spoke a little louder. “While this may be startling news, I urge you to listen to me.”
The aggressive muttering rose like a turbulent tide, threatening to cast the Archery leader aside.
“There must be some temporary Divine Ground set up, right.” Violet reiterated. “Otherwise, this place would fall into havoc faster than a sinking ship.”
Remus grimaced. “I hope there is.”
Things were getting pretty ugly, pretty fast.
“Please, I implore you all to direct your Perpetual Sight, if at your disposal, to a small stretch past the front lines stationed here.”
The leaders frowned, but obeyed the woman. For a tense second, Violet awaited their reactions. It was a mixed bag.
“You will notice some peculiar fluctuations in Infinity. Hone in on them.”
Faces scrunched in concentration. Then eyes widened. The image of so many powerful beings staring at each, dumbfounded, may have been comical, if it didn’t spell their demise.
“See the plains devastated by Rot, less than miles away from our barracks. Hear the pattering feet of Unbounded in the droves, advancing as we speak. Observe the splintering ravines cast down by Belindo, the summoned tempests even now obliterating both your supplies and clansmen.”
The muttering ended abruptly, but the unreal silence in its wake was no more appealing.
“We are facing a time of unprecedented danger. For the safety of your people, and Descent at large, you must internalise that.”
God-Graced and Godlings alike could be hard to convince at the best of times, but after rattling on for so long, each word dripping with passion, Eshika was finally getting through to them. Violet at least was shaken to her very core, and she wasn’t even privy to what the others were observing. She could hardly imagine.
“So what is it, exactly, that I’m asking for?” Eshika asked rhetorically. At her side still, the remaining twin Pillars stood, their lips stiff. “As of late, the front lines have opened their arms wide, allowing entire clans to stay here. Again, we make that invitation clear. But what needs to be made even more overt is the need for a long, extensive push-back operation. We need the helping hand of every available sect to make that happen. Their ever powerful leaders included.”
Violet felt a speech coming along, and was not disappointed.
“Enos and the Unbounded at large have toyed with humanity too long. What will our gods say at the next, upcoming Day of Descension? Will they shake their heads at humanity’s weakness, needing to be mothered over like a cradled child? Or will they return at the end of a victorious conflict, proud to have forged such capable tools in the furnace of reality?”
Violet wasn’t a fan of that wording. If even humanity itself saw them themselves as mere tools, what hope was there?
Alas, nobody, not even the sect leaders, seemed to share Violet’s inhibitions. There was a clamorous uproar, only quietening down as Eshika made to continue.
“Do you know how many generations of Right-bearers we have successfully killed?”
It was a question that genuinely intrigued Violet. It hadn’t been clarified in any of Veida’s designated works for her to read.
“Fifteen generations. Fifteen times we have prevailed over Enos’ favoured fiends. What is stopping a sixteenth? A sixteenth, and what, together, we’ll make the final. If our forefathers were capable, we are. Anything to the contrary would put shame on their memory.”
As good a motivational speaker as Eshika was, she was conveniently omitting one crucial fact. The Right-bearers, they grew progressively stronger with each new iteration. That would probably spoil the riotous, indefatigable energy pervading through the stands, so Violet kept her mouth shut.
“That isn’t to say it will be easy. There will be costs, and sacrifices, and everything that comes with doing the impossibly challenging. But we will defy the odds. We will send a message to the Unbounded that they’ll never forget!”
Whatever noise suppression had been implemented before ceased. Violet fought the urge to cover her ears, as endless cheering deafened out the outside world.