Edmon took the long journey across the miles of city streets with his team, traveling as fast as able; Melia’Ia, the Quen’Talrat shieldbearing Elite Hunter, was the slowest of the group, seeing as her four legs were primarily meant for taking the front and holding her ground—not providing speed so much as stability and endurance.
He couldn’t miss the massive cocoon Violet carried on their path, continuing to gather and pack more around the ball that was now three times her size; Azalea was helping her younger sister to collect the pre-woven silk, bypassing the energy cost of creating more.
Ice whipped around his armored body as he took the lead; the storm was his environment, and he was unhampered by the frost—in fact, the only ones that had trouble were the additions to their force he was most cautious of.
Lexi was utterly useless on her own, which didn’t build his confidence in her survival chances; the gelatinous, three-foot tall creature rode on the large bat that had brought them, but Edmon wasn’t sure how helpful the flying beast would be in the upcoming conflict. It had a sonic screech attack, yet it would be useless against the silver apes they were facing.
Serris appeared more capable in raw combat capacity; although, how she would fare against the metallic guardians was to be seen, and even if she was hiding it well, the blizzard was not kind to her movements.
To speed things up, he’d tasked Kumi’Rela and Yelro’Kuma to move ahead, radiating their natural fire coat in order to swiftly melt a path for Azalea, Violet, and Serris to follow without much resistance.
Since Noa was tied to Amra’Cora’s back, projected human-like form resting on the giant gray-furred Quen’Talrat’s left shoulder, and Jumi’calro sat in the box on Melia’Ia’s back, wrapped in a blanket, neither could use their flames. It wasn’t as if they needed the support of their comrades to clear the path of snow, but they weren’t going to take any chances.
A stream of fog passed through Edmon’s face-guard while turning his head to penetrate the arctic environment; having Blizzard Sense III gave him a level of perceptive range he couldn’t hope for when outside of his specialty.
The colossal Black Tower at the center of the city was clear to his sapphire, wisp-like eyes—never had he been so empowered than in this whiteout. Empress… he whispered upon reaching the passageway that would lead them to the underground train; the others rushed in to prepare the transport.
Elinor’s solemn voice returned. “Esmeralda is with me, and she’s nearly finished with the ritual format Tiffany gave her—I’m as safe as I can be—focus on the task before you.”
Jaw tightening, he shifted his head to the imposing range of mountains—the enormous span of the typically hidden peaks told Edmon if Noa hadn’t been with them, considering the breadth of the labyrinth and the powerful traps inside, the network within would have made it impossible to find their target.
We will return victorious.
He entered the opening of the passage that would lead him to the train; Kumi’Rela was preparing the vehicle to leave.
“I have no doubt,” Elinor returned, cutting off their communication.
Edmon boarded beside Amra’Cora, and not soon after, they were on the move. He could feel Sari’aél’s strength draining by the second, but something else came with the loss of her blazing light in the Nexus—cracks that she’d been filling or repairing.
Violet’s calm voice probed for a connection, and he was sure Tiffany would want to discuss the matter had they been close enough to communicate through the Nexus. “High Lord Edmon, these fissures would allow others to listen in on private conversations, even the Empress’.”
He wanted to bring the topic up to the Seraph, but considering the concentration and pressure Edmon could sense she was under, figured it was something he’d have to bring up later, yet he had his suspicions.
There is nothing we can do about it at this time; focus on the task at hand.
“Yes, High Lord,” Violet replied, removing herself from the conversation.
Edmon wanted to remind the girl that with her mother absent, she was her acting stand-in, yet knew none of Iris’s daughters could bring themselves to put themselves on the same level as the Thélméthra Queen.
Glancing to his left as the train neared its final destination, his fingers tightened around the handle on his shield; Violet’s concern wasn’t just eavesdropping within their ranks, which wasn’t that big of a deal.
Sari’aél has been holding things together, but it was probably her Divinity Release that caused the cracks, to begin with. By being a part of the Nexus, she radiates that intense force across its entire length … It even affected the Religious side, meaning without both, it could break the Nexus, spilling everyone’s thoughts to one another in a torrent.
A rumble shook in Edmon’s armored throat as he left their transport to rise to the surface. Sari’aél’s concern about her skill is clear, but there’s likely more to it—the issue is how this will affect everyone—the Nexus isn’t just connected to Elinor but everyone … Even outside of her range, a personal network is transmitted to each of us … It’s all in jeopardy.
Entering the blizzard again, Edmon traveled with the group to the point Noa instructed; he could see the stress on the dark-skinned A.I.’s face and tight muscles while sitting atop Amra’Cora’s shoulder.
“Be ready,” Edmon stated, turning in the white veil to see the brightening glint in the distance. “Sari’aél said ten minutes after we arrived, and she’s accurate.”
Hot steam puffed out of the giant apes' noses as they prepared their weapons and muscles.
Noa gripped her wrist against her exposed belly, looking at the large black scar the Seraph had created as the point of impact on their scout of the area the previous hour. “It won’t be all the way, though … What if they discovered a way to move the Matrix Core? Eh—not that I believe it is possible, yet … I did not know we could craft our own runic grids,” she mumbled.
Edmon sensed the inadequacy in her voice; naturally, when she was designed to lead the A.I., and returned after being stripped of your power, she discovered her usurpers had developed Noa’s charge in such a grander manner than she believed she ever could replicate, it would have an effect on her mental state.
“You can read the network, even if you are not connected. Correct?”
“I can,” Noa whispered, “but what if she changes it to trick me into leading us into a trap … I can only see so much of an area’s rune matrix without being connected to the Core System.”
Edmon was silent for a few seconds, eyes narrowing as he felt the power radiating from Milthren multiplying by the second, and with the angel’s failing strength, unwanted chatter of his soldiers’ thoughts were slipping through the cracks.
Given the bastion of raw solar force the ax was putting into a single attack, he had to act now. His tongue slid across his lips just thinking about what might happen the moment when he gripped that weapon—he couldn’t be lured in by it, yet exactly how that would happen, the Seraph couldn’t tell him.
Cloak billowing in the gale that carried the snow around them, Edmon closed his eyes and channeled one of his stronger arctic abilities, muttering, “We plan for what we can, and adapt to what we can’t, Noa—if you can tell us the Matrix Core is near or not, then that will determine our next move.”
A cyclone of glowing blue energy encircled them, causing Lexi and Serris to shift uncomfortably as Edmon saw every person he needed to support in the coming solar flare. “No one move—if you touch this barrier, it will shatter, thinking you intend to leave—when you see me tame the heat, join the charge.”
Amra’Cora puffed out a long breath through her large nostrils; the Quen’Talrat could likely survive the heat, given their natural resilience to the element, yet they knew Noa and Jumi’calro were another story.
Edmon concentrated in the ensuing silence as his team examined the icy shells forming around them—layers of translucent sheets that increased by the minute. The frost sank into the ground, acting as an absorbent to the inevitable shockwave that he knew was coming, and an outer shell would take the brunt of the initial heat Milthren would generate.
Six minutes after arriving, the blizzard and snow within a fifty-foot radius now showed the rocky black granite of the mountain base as Edmon stole the chilled elements around them to further support his charging defensive shield, leaving five layers of repellant casing.
Edmon opened his eyes to see the radiant blue illumination of the sapphire gemstones in his armor and shield, releasing wisps of blue fog that contrasted his night-black armor. Hood and cloak ablaze with the azure light cast a dark shadow against his covered helmet—he was ready to meet the weakened Seraph’s assault.
Not a noise met them as rays of gold broke past the storm, and the diminished angel’s lustrous ax emitted a rapturous, incandescent shine that would have blinded most, yet Edmon watched on as Sari’aél’s fatigued arm delivered the momentum.
As if a bullet, waiting for the initial spark, Milthren left an effulgent blaze that chased away the air, and he witnessed four bowing breaks in pressure, the weapon generating four shock waves.
A pulse of superheated energy fanned out from the item, thunderous impact felt even beyond Edmon’s dampening field that sent tremors up their legs, and the eruption ripped four of his barriers away in an instant as molten rocks jetted into the air, pushed out by the force digging into the mountain.
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Leaping forward, tower shield generating a sphere around him, Edmon dove into the black smoke and liquid stone dripping down the blistered surface and poisonous vaporized metals; a current of fiery air was forced in and out, making the liquid fill in any passageway the divine ax had revealed.
Edmon pressed on, unclasping his circular attachment behind his tower shield to send the charged, gelid aegis down the fifteen by fifteen meter melted hole—the passageway froze, sharp crystals following its path while he fed the arctic environment, gray fog exploding past him as the smoke and hot air chilled.
Standing at the mouth of the cave only fifteen seconds after the Seraph’s gate breaking assault, Edmon looked beyond the gale of mist at the iced walls; not a single passageway was open since the liquid rock had been instantly frozen after filling the hallways, and at the end of the deep hole was Milthren, unaffected by his energy and still slowly burning a line down the frozen wall it had ended its momentum on.
He smirked, impressed as the weapon continued to melt his ice and the stone, even after losing its spin. You did your part flawlessly, Sari’aél. Have a good rest.
Violet was the first to join him, immediately throwing her bundled cocoon of silk into the hole before it bulged, internals manipulated to intake a large amount of outside air to cause an explosion—web encased his ice, pillars of hardened thread forming in critical locations to provide support against any attempts to block their escape route.
Azalea soon arrived, sweat on her brow as she tried to keep up with her sister’s rapid tulle spin, restructuring it to give the strength they required.
Edmon was impressed by their teamwork; Violet used an advanced technique of her mother’s, Silk Territory II. The assassin had been practicing diligently to surpass even Iris’s silk weaves, and he wasn’t an expert in that field of the Empire, but he suspected the Thélméthra Queen was proud.
Pushing forward, Edmon ran on ahead as the sisters worked their skill, and he felt the others joining, Serris being the closest because of her speed, yet he sensed her unease at the funnel of silk that he could relate to—it was practically a nightmare when considering the predators that formed it, and they were running into the entrapping territory.
He had to chuckle as the strings molded around their trajectory, filling into gaps and weaving together; the sisters applied a light grip to the inner layer to help with the steep descent.
Even with the Thélméthra creating a seamless journey with their spanning threads, his frozen environment empowering him, and the advantage of running downhill, it took two minutes of running at full speed for Edmon to arrive at the end of the deep crater.
True to his word, Edmon moved as swift as possible to reach the Seraph’s treasured weapon; Milthren’s shine had faded, yet the melted black granite pooled around the floor where it had fallen.
Serris joined him, everyone else still minutes away; he figured it would be like this since the sisters had to move slowly while checking their thread craft, and the mantis was the most agile of the two Covenant slaves—it was only by his empowering territory and Violet’s help that he got to the ax first.
Ignoring the fiery stone surrounding Milthren, Edmon’s gauntlet gripped the wood—all color vanished as the world faded with his senses.
Darkness expanded around him, emptiness in an endless space—he was alone. Taking a deep breath, he found air, not that he needed it, and his illuminated eyes settled on his empty left hand, still held in a tight grip, yet he was naked.
Edmon turned, noticing something solid beneath his feet, and by the rumble in his throat, there was still sound. Every newly discovered sense in the black scene told him he’d been transported to a world without light. Scanning the world of shadow, Edmon tried to find anything as a point of reference, yet there was nothing.
“Hello, Dad.”
The voice was like a punch against his heart—unlike anything he’d felt since rising to serve his Empress—and when he turned, Elinor stood in front of him—not his Empress.
Lips pulling in, Edmon’s sharp eyes drifted between every article he remembered from the memories in his mind. “Milthren, I assume … Is there a reason you appeared to me as my master before her death?”
Milthren had a pleasant voice and smile; of course, it was the impression of his Empress. “I am that which you desire the most. Hmm, of course, Tiffany is not far behind.”
Edmon took in a long breath before releasing it in a slow stream, hands clasping behind his back; he calmly watched a second figure appear beside Elinor, Tiffany’s kind face showing compassion he’d lost memory of.
The pain in his chest was unfamiliar, but he had a task to complete, and this was only a test. “My sole goal for being here is to prove that I can temporarily wield you, on Sari’aél’s request.”
Tiffany’s expression didn’t change at his statement. “You needn’t fear for loss of time, Edmon,” she whispered, “time is not of importance where your fractured spirit rests.”
“Fractured spirit?” Edmon questioned, remembering what the Seraph said about never taking from Milthren. “Do you require my spirit, and it is not enough because of my resurrection?”
Tiffany hummed, fading into the blackness as Elinor looked up; Edmon’s eyes widened when an effulgence of white light sparked to life, expanding in a slow radiance, yet there was refraction in the exact location as if he were looking into an infinite mirror—dozens of others took shape around him.
“Are you waking up afraid?” Elinor asked, and Edmon watched the expansion become colorful hues of dazzling light such as he’d never seen, echoed across their eternity. “When the currents carry on, lifeless waves, we float along in this sunken apparition of an Existence … What is it that you want, Edmon?”
He didn’t understand the unusual pull her words had on his spirit, but each one carried a significance just beyond his grasping mind. “Hmm…”
Vision wandering between the forming holes in space, stars taking shape, and nebula spiraling toward each other, Edmon frowned. “That depends on the specifics of the question—ultimately, I wish to serve my Empress—to protect her.”
Milthren shook her head, hands closing around her back to stare at him in Elinor’s form. “I’m not asking you—I’m talking to the original Edmon.”
Edmon’s heart stopped as she turned her head to a figure that appeared out of the dark—him—yet, this man looked scared and confused.
“I just—where are my wife and daughter … I can’t—I can’t remember … I want my family! Y-You’re not my daughter, though … What is happening?!” he cried, dropping to his knees to grasp his head. “I—I can’t remember…”
“No,” Edmon hissed, bright blue eyes darting to Milthren in concern. “Yes, I am the amalgamation of things the Empress required, but…”
Milthren’s solemn voice returned to him, brushing back her thick black locks behind an ear. “Was Edmon not the base for your spiritual fusion?”
No … How can I do the test if I’m not the one taking it, Sari’aél?! Wait…
Uneasy eyes rising to meet Milthren as she moved over to comfort the distressed silver of Elinor’s father that remained, Edmon held firm. “I am Edmon now—yes, I am not the same spirit that—that this man used to be, but I am what he has become…”
His words died in his throat as he was suddenly on the ground, tears in his eyes as Elinor stood over him, wiping them away with a handkerchief; her voice and touch were sweet and warm to his throbbing chest. “There’s a solemn depth below the surface—a deeper truth you cannot know … You are one and the same, yet to know one is to forget the other.”
“What?” Edmon asked, hoarse throat cracking as he glanced down at his trembling hand; emotion returned to his cold heart, now beating like a rabbit seeking to escape danger. “No—what are you saying?”
Milthren’s comforting hands closed around his cheeks, pulling them up to show him Elinor’s melancholy, original hazel irises. “In this death, your mind is young—let go of your eyes to see life beyond the veil—take my hand as a humble sacrifice to pull you below the surface.”
The soft pull of her voice was water on parched earth; solemn love seeping into his chest. “I can make you whole for your Empress … Her mother and father returned … A dream realized that could change the currents of her life forever. A deeper truth you cannot know … this sorrowing child will nevermore feel that loss of heart.”
Edmon’s gut churned at the divine weapon’s proposal—indeed, it would be within her power to grant that wish—he experienced the reality in the birthing universes around him. Milthren could reset everything—remove the Seed from his master and restore her to the life she’d been stripped of—restore Tiffany and him to the parents she needed.
A shiver ran down his spine as he saw the divine figure inside Elinor’s eyes—a dream outside his mind that he couldn’t see with natural sight. He could feel the draw on his mind, fraying the will to break away—Elinor could have everything she desired.
Tears gathered in Edmon’s eyes, chest and throat constricting as he wept, vision falling to the black. “Why—why would you tempt me with such—”
He coughed, unable to finish the words as Milthren’s soothing embrace pulled him in to sob against her chest. “Glancing behind the curtain—in the deep you’ve seen something real—something so tempting, it drew upon the grieving father sleeping within an undead heart, yet you resisted using me to fulfill your soul’s sole desire—deeper truth, I cannot know.”
Her soft lips pressed against his forehead, warmth filling his breast. “When the currents carry on, lifeless waves, we float along … a solemn acumen comes when wielding me, Edmon, and you have shown to be worthy.”
Despite the knowledge, Edmon couldn’t find the strength to leave Milthren’s arms; he couldn’t be sure for how long she consoled him, yet after a time, she looked into his eyes with a somber smile. “Our hastened time has come; the final test is upon you … Do not fear my pull, for I am by your side.”
Edmon’s vision cleared, shaking eyes resting on a dragon’s face, crafted from ice that branched out from a black shaft; out of the creature’s mouth released a curved, jagged breath that extended into the long ax’s edge. Its horns acted as the biting point with a rigid neck for a reverse strike.
He gripped the black leather grip of Milthren’s base, focusing on the frosted spike at the end; he watched an invisible tail curled up to coil around his hand and the shaft. Her reassuring embrace was ever-present around his chest.
Rising to his feet, he saw not a second had passed since touching the weapon, and as he adjusted his hold, Milthren’s shaft shrunk to act as a one-handed variant, edge scaling. She was weightless, yet he knew the power delivered bypassed physics—it was in response to the force he gave her, which included his strength of will.
A tear rolled down his cheek as the lingering feelings burned in his chest, and he looked forward at the wall ahead of him. The final test; will I take or give … I will not fail you, Empress.
Pulling back his right arm, Edmon felt Milthren taking in some kind of power within his spirit as he freely opened it for her to draw from—he wasn’t to determine what was needed, she knew what was required for the task at hand.
The dragon’s eyes on either side of the weapon lit with turquoise light as mist frothed off its length, and the creature’s breath illuminated. Serris darted back in fright as a torrent of frigid aura froze the air around them, generating snow.
Edge coming down on the wall, the stone turned to black ice before everything shattered to ashen snow, superdense compressed elements dropping to sink into the ground; a cut the size of the hallway had been eaten away, leaving condensed balls of incredible weight—they’d broken through to the first hallway.
Serris stayed where she was, unsure what to do as he stepped through the five-meter deep opening to watch the lingering black frost inch over the sides of the walls for a time as if infectious—Milthren tapping into his Creeping Black II skill, which was supposed to only be defensive.
Thank you, Milthren … So long as we’re quick, they won’t be able to seal the entrance before the affix fades.
Securing the hallway, Edmon waited for the rest of them to join, tentatively stepping on the black ice as it continued to counter the runes seeking to repair the damage. “Noa?” he prompted as Amra’Cora neared.
The nervous woman’s head lingered on the spreading ice. “That’s—insane, umm … One second—there’s damage to the defenses in this area—Mila is sending soldiers from our left, and…”
She paused, a hopeful smile growing on her face as her glowing runes brightened. “The Matrix Core is close—to our left!”
Speaking to the Quen’Tarlat and Thélméthra, he darted in that direction, following the A.I.’s apprehensive guidance. The more time we waste, our chance of failure increases. We end this now!