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Wyatt Graves

Aniwye's rumbling footsteps guide me throughout the city. Any non-human she so much as sees drops dead almost instantly, hardly even a scream from those at my identical Sigil. Some have time to grab their skulls in pain, but most simply die. No struggle. No movement. No nothing. Just death.

The gap between a Virtue and those who are not even an Angel is shown so clearly to me. Like flies, they try to swat at her only to die. I try to ignore my imagination of what would happen should she turn to me with that might. I would hold only barely any longer than them.

She's proven herself an ally. Even if she was unwilling to kill all those demons, Pygmies, and Nahullo, which she wasn't in the slightest, I'd still trust her. I hate what she did to me to my very core, but I... I can lie that some part of me feels attached to her.

Whenever I see her single bulging eye and oversized form, I can't help but hear Ma's voice. It's nigh omnipresent in my mind and dulls my raging thoughts about her. I can't hate her. I can only hate what she did. She did save my life after all that, too. It's hard. Sighing, I follow her through the path of bodies. Still, she won't go help the others fight, no matter how much I ask.

"Those boys should be adequate. I brought fodder, hoping I'd stumble upon you here. I felt your mind signature back in Pridestead, and I figured you'd be here. Karn is a bit of a different case as he does what pleases him, but... I already sense his mind as unconscious. Come now, let's see this thing Vincent made."

Huh? Aniwye's voice streaks across the bricks as we turn a corner, entering the vast square that holds Marshall's statue. All the stores, buildings, and tents around it that used to exist for a market are gone.

Only rubble, torn cloth, and a plethora of red liquid flowing through the bricks remain. In the center of it all is Marshall's towering and powerful monument of stone. Even throughout the miniature war within the confines of Blackstone, the stone is untouched, almost pristine.

My curiosity only rises as Aniwye steps up to the replica of Marshall, forced to gaze upward even at her extreme height. She reaches a hand upward slightly before pausing.

"I sense a hidden might within this work of art. Someone... left a failsafe."

Huh? I follow after her, climbing over rocks and bodies that I try to ignore but am hardly able to. My eyes linger on the dead for far too long before I arrive next to her.

"What do you mean? A failsafe?"

The demon nods, her great head shifting its weight around as the echoes of war gradually die down. She only glances into the streets momentarily before returning her focus to Marshall's stone body.

"Seems as though the battle is pausing for a moment. The Alliance is likely waiting for more reinforcements. They've also probably found me to be a traitor by now. Not my issue, though I'm sure my 'Queen' is furious. Her fault for raising a subordinate with Mentalists. She knew I'd break free eventually. A bigger concern is what this statue can do. I sense... a deep, concentrated power within the rock. It's..."

I gaze intently at the statue, investigating it just as she is, and with Insight, colors bloom. A deep magenta echoes across the surface of the monument, wavering intensely. Magenta? Does that mean...? It can't, right?

As Aniwye falls silent, I propose my thoughts with nothing else that comes to mind.

"There is a 7th Sigil within the monument."

My false mother nods again, but this time, she shakes her head afterward. The female demon doesn't think the same as me.

"That is true, but I care not for that. A more hidden vessel lies within it. A mere Power is not the question. I think... I think this may be a Remnant."

I respond without even thinking. The word is entirely foreign in this context.

"A Remnant? Is that like an artifact?"

Aniwye doesn't physically respond, but she steps back, putting a great hand in front of me. Her single palm is more extensive than my whole torso. She warns me before turning away.

"Remnants are a world away from artifacts. They are legendary things, spoken of only in hints and legends. When a being touches upon the pinnacle and breaks past it, a Sirza, and dies during its use, they leave behind a Remnant. Single-use, extraordinary things that shake reality."

I follow her words and her motions, creating distance. But she still hasn't honestly answered what I desired to know. She skirted around the edges of the truth.

"But what about its purpose? What does it actually do?"

Aniwye pauses, her single eye lingering on the statue for far too long. Then, she slowly answers before pulling me with her gently.

"I do not know."

My mouth hangs open slightly as we traverse the rocks, heading back toward the gathering of soldiers where Dawn, Elizabeth, Virgil, and all the others are. She doesn't know? How does she not know? Indeed, Aniwye must have some idea about what it does. Aniwye has known everything so far. She's like a walking encyclopedia of knowledge about Ether and the world.

"No idea? You have no clue about this thing?"

Aniwye shrugs softly with a firm answer, leading me through the ruined paths of Blackstone or what's left of it. I can count the number of structures taller than me that are intact on my fingers without doubling up on any digit.

"Other than it holds immense might? No. Legends are simply that, little one. Legends. Very little exists of the truth. The eldest of my kind undoubtedly knows, but I am only a few centuries old. It is not common for a Sirza to be born. It is even less common for its wielder to die of anything other than old age or to another wielder of the same might. One at such as I or you would not be privy to the information."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I fall quiet as we continue through the street. As we tread, I finally find myself exhausted to the bone. My Ether saturation is dying down after this period of restful walking, but the weariness in my muscles and bones is omnipresent. Blodwyn is still asleep, and Lily has fallen silent.

Can I indeed be of any help with Aniwye's plans? Where do I actually fall into all this? Am I simply fodder to be killed? Bait to lure him out? None of that really makes sense. Why would he care about me? Vincent is leagues above me in power, reputation, and standing. Plus, he will be so concentrated on his rise that what could I possibly be to him for him to care?

I know she wants us to weaken those helping him as the main priority, but how would we even do that? How can I even help? I just don't see my place in all this.

I question her as we walk. The plan exists, but it doesn't truly have an outline. If we want to succeed in the slightest, what do I need to do? Where is my place? These are the questions I need answered. Otherwise... after being given more time to think, it might be best that I run with the others for Gravecross.

"What is the actual plan to impede Vincent? What do I do? How can I even be of help with my meager strength? I'm already exhausted as it is."

Aniwye shifts on a dime as if a physical lie to her massive stature and weight. She holds out a hand to me, a single finger outstretched.

"The plan... first, let's do this. I can remove your exhaustion. More specifically, your perception of it. Would you like me to do so? It helps push your limits. You are not yet at yours, little one. I am of the thought that Graves simply have none as I never saw your father's limit, even when against the wall. Nor yours. Ether can reach a wall, but your bodies... they are not the same as the rest of your kind."

I raise an eyebrow at her wording. That's... nope. Don't even want to know whether she is referring to fighting or... yeah, I'm good.

Regardless of the implications of her words, I nod. I could use that. The constant strain and pressure from simply walking is irritating. It's like having all my body sore at once from training dialed up to an eleven. The healing from Blodwyn isn't without cost, and neither is constant warfare.

Recuperation is needed for it to wholly recover, but I wait for Aniwye's plan as I place my hand against her finger. The size difference is inherently bizarre and uncomfortable, but I ignore it even as my thoughts flicker to her other meaning. How could they? No!

A stream of Ether enters me through my hand, and immediately, I feel something release, like a latch or lever within my mind. A sigh of relief flows from my lungs as I appreciate the feeling of having a painless existence for just a moment.

It's all still there, that much I can tell, but the agony is simply turned off like that of a candle being snuffed out. Aniwye nods at me happily, a grin opening to her razor-sharp teeth in her mouth.

"Okay, now that you're better, I'll fill you in on the actual plan. It's guaranteed that the Underground Tree has a thousand plans ready for nearly anything that will affect the Wastelander's rise. But we just need to overpower those plans. Of course, we can't do that alone, and we'll simply be aiding the other Dominions that are against the Wastelander. So, our place in this is to attack Eli Weiss before he completes his plans."

I nod to her, but I find an immediate flaw. There is a part she must be oblivious to, even with all her knowledge of Ether. Because... who could know other than us, the ones who have met him?

"Eli Wiess has multiple bodies, Aniwye. It won't be easy to kill or stop him. In fact, it might just be impossible."

The demon sputters, her face a plate of disbelief as she interrogates me, crouching closely. She seems incredulous at the fact that Eli could have many forms.

"Multiple bodies? How? Are they like my Personas? Speaking of... I should have one wandering in Gravecross. We can meet up with it for some intelligence when we get there."

I try to explain the concepts of Vessels to her, but I'm not that good at it. It takes me several attempts before she understands, and the demon stands still, placing a hand upon her head. I stand beside her, waiting for her directions as she knows best what to do at the moment. I don't want to wander off and run into an Angel or something after all.

But... she doesn't move after several moments. I stare at her, confused, until I recognize the heaving of her chest. Her torso shifts up and down in outstanding motions as a subtle sound comes from her throat. I catch a single drop of liquid falling to the ground through her hands before I reach upward toward her arms.

"Is something wrong, Aniwye?"

Carefully, as she's still a full-blooded demon and notorious for liking human flesh, I position a hand against her with a gentle touch. A resounding cry comes as Aniwye falls backward, crashing into a mound of rubble that buckles under her weight.

Sobbing, she speaks through her hands.

"It's impossible! We can't stop him! What's even the point? So many will die..."

Aniwye, however, quickly shifts from fits of crying to bouts of laughter as her whole body shakes. My mind can't keep up with her emotions rapidly pivoting like this, and I worry it is a sign of something worse. Though, she's always been a bit wrong in the head. Maybe that's just a demonic thing.

"But is that such a bad thing? Perhaps we should let them all fight and kill as many as possible, leaving us as much opportunity as possible. Let's change the plan. Let Vincent rise. Two Gods of humanity won't be such a bad thing. Cleansing the world of waste will be good in the end. Not all the life that lives deserves their heartbeat."

Her change of heart confuses me and concerns me, so I immediately press her on it.

"What do you mean? You just want to leave all those people to die? What about the demons? Don't you care about any of them?"

Aniwye nods, providing me a short answer that I can't think of a proper solution to. Her emotions are shifting so rapidly that I worry for her, but I don't truly know how volatile demons are. She's the only one I've ever had an extended time with. Are they all like this? No... Probably not. I think my father just breaks something inside her that keeps her stable.

"Of course not. I only wanted to save them because I figured it was both possible and would bring a better world for myself to exist in. A world where the Prime is dead? Sorry, little one, but that is a perfect world for us demons. I am a demon. I am not one of you heartthrob humans. Consequences and logic matter more to me, barring some exceptions. With you by my side, even if he finds us, Vincent is unlikely to kill me due to his respect for your father. Then, we can go search for Killian."

I pause in my footsteps, gazing at her with indecision to her irony. Should I still go help free my father if Vincent ascends? Is one God enough? Probably not. In the end, Aniwye's idea of helping my father rise is more likely than not the correct answer to how we all survive the awakening of the old Gods.

As I ponder, Aniwye stops, turning toward me. When she does so, a rumbling enters our ears. I perk up, looking around, but I can't find anything. That is, until I breathe in. A deep stench of tangy metallic blood is in the air, one that is far stronger than the previous smell of blood, sweat, and gunpowder. I scrunch my nose as I view the cityscape, still smoldering from the echoes of combat.

As I focus, there's the distinct crackle of firearms, each shot a sharp punctuation in the ongoing story of relentless warfare. Above it all, a mysterious roar pierces the air—an inhuman bellow reverberating in my mind's depths. The force of the noise pierces the air, and I stumble backward from only the sound.

Amidst this cacophonous backdrop, another unexpected sound unfurls—a crescendo of thunderous, flowing water. Yet, there's an unsettling twist to this noise. The stench of blood swiftly heightens to an almost unbearable level, as if I'm breathing in a sea of blood.

A crimson tide surges forth from a nearby sidestreet in a heartbeat, crashing toward us with an unrelenting force that defies comprehension. The sheer suddenness of it all leaves me momentarily stunned, but I attempt to evade it, only I maneuver far slower due to my exhausted body. I might not feel the weakness, but it is there.

The blood quickly approaches me, like that of a tsunami, but it never reaches me. Aniwye stands before me, her palm opened as the blood splits around us, leaving us unperturbed.

Atop this vicious sea of blood stands a solitary figure—a man bearing a longsword that appears to be forged from nothing but the very life essence that now inundates the surroundings. I smile as I watch Edward control the blood, shifting tendrils of the liquid downward.

Within the thick, viscous currents, two hapless souls are ensnared—a demon and a Pygmy, both struggling against the relentless tide. The shorter one is engulfed in thick steel, while the larger one is a kind of demon with thick hide and rippling muscles but no weapon. Their limbs flail, their cries of desperation barely audible amidst the deafening cacophony of the blood's inexorable advance. The Alliance that holds them together provokes them to work together, but before either can manage a move to save them, a crackle of a gun splits the air.

A bullet slams into the Pygmy's head, shattering its armor in an instant before a second follow through, opening the skull like a watermelon. Then, Edward dives forward, the blood launching him at the demon as he cuts at it.

The demon barely manages to extricate himself slightly, defending against Edward for a moment as the crimson tide engulfs the remnants of this once-thriving street, submerging shattered buildings and broken structures beneath its embrace.

As the blood spreads out, Aniwye stands still, allowing Edward and Johnny to finish off this last demon. I let them, as well as it seems that they have it under control, and frankly, I could go for a nap at any time.

I watch as Edward trades a hundred blows in a few seconds as Johnny fires bullet after bullet, most landing against the demon's rough hide. Slowly, gradually, they wear him down, even as he curses them.

"I hope you trip, fall, and die down a flight of stairs, you fucking bastard! Come down here and fight me! Put away your stupid gun!"

Neither replies to him, and not even Aniwye does as he pleads for help after noticing her.

"Ms. Soul Eater! Help me! Please! What are you doing there? Why aren't you helping! Hey! Hey! I'm talking to—fuck!"

The demon dies without a single arm lifted to help him after Edward removes his head from his body. Thereafter, the swordsman of blood falls to a knee, holding himself up by his blade. His eyes flicker over to me, nodding at the demon beside me.

"Nice to meet you, Aniwye. I heard some of the situation from Johnny, but it's best if we get on our way. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aniwye nods, reaching forward as she lifts the bodies of the two Angels without even touching them. The dead float toward her as Ether ripples between them. Sighing, she places the dead in the large pack on her back.

"Of course. To Gravecross. Though, you all need to be less wasteful. If you kill an Angel, take its body. Otherwise, you're wasting valuable food."

Edward's focus shifts to me from her words, and I can only shrug.

"She likes to eat people."

Johnny scoffs as he reloads his gun, pointing eastward.

"Enough. Let's go."