HTG - Chapter 165

Dargo

Chapter One-Hundred-Sixty-Five: Echoes of Destiny - Part Two

Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

Solar System: D-447

Location: Orarak City

The city shakes like the thunder of the world Draka Six, a tumultuous place with eternal storms. Perfect for training, horrible for anything else. Victoria and Arkon are not holding their punches. I can feel the vibrations of their fight even from here. He managed to drag her to the upper levels. That should be far enough away… hopefully.

Whether this endeavor will work… I am unsure. My knowledge is vast, but this situation is near hopeless.

Adara runes shimmer as I combine them with Farka and Darna’s third set of equilibrium runes. In their lifetimes these gods were enemies, yet when you combine their knowledge and runic patterns, it shapes some of the most stable rune circuits I know of. Were they alive to see this blasphemy, I am sure they would smite me. Alas, like the grassy valleys of this now barren world, they are gone.

These should serve as the stabilizer for the next sets that I must draw, so many more need be made… so much work in so little time. It would be so easy to take the boy while they’re distracted, the vibrations of Arkon and Victoria’s fight is shaking the lower levels of this city. If they defy the Theocratic Imperium’s mandate and draw their Edicts in earnest, this city will be beyond my ability to save. Victoria is not known for her restraint, nor is Arkon.

Thankfully they have barely moved beyond the shaping of elements, were their will able to manifest as mine can, this city would fall much faster. I wonder what a terrible creature like Victoria would manifest as her will. Doesn’t matter, they won’t figure that out for another few hundred years.

Pieces of the ceiling crumble down and support beams nearly crush my new runes. I warp the air to hold it in place. I really need help for this. Maybe if I subdue Victoria quickly then… no there’s no time. Or… What if I used that to slow the decay, that would buy me another ten maybe twenty minutes. Then there would be time to subdue Victoria and have Arkon help me.

Needing the young leaves a bad taste in my mouth beyond the soot in the air.  

Zekara’s ninth formation of energy transference would do well as the bridge between the stabilizers. Perhaps even her tenth… no, that would overload some of the broken shards. Can this even be done? If I had more time…

“Shit…” I breathe, I look at the boy again, his body is sweating profusely, he’s mumbling something barely audible over the loud crashes from their fight.

“Belief becomes power… believe that you can be more…”

Damn him. Is he talking to me? No, his body is dreaming, I feel the pressure waves in his mind, there is no doubt, yet his words are so… damnit.

The tilt of the city increases, I can feel us starting to spin slowly off the axis it was designed for. There are mere minutes before we start to descend to the surface and crash upon it.

“Fine, you little shit. No promises, but I’ll try.”

My hands extend more, runes that I have not called in more than a thousand years etch rapidly across my skin, runes that my master helped me carve into my flesh. Forbidden runes of gods long past. What is the point of knowledge if you don’t use it… damn this boy.

The old gods made many runes which are lost, but for as many as time has ravaged my master taught me more. Seventy-one inscriptions fold in the shape of the archrunes of Raka the mad god, a dangerous set that could kill me if I lose focus, but will also force the Etherium shards to recombine… or explode… it’s been a few thousand years since I did this.

I’ve grown complacent in this millennia of sulking.

Vibration becomes my existence as I search through the echoes and tie the cords of mana into form. Pulses of my power ebb into it… it’s working… I can feel it working.

Sweat beads from my brow, a sensation I have not felt in nearly a hundred years. Wait… two of the runes… Haken’s fifth… yes, there it is, stabilize it…

The city begins to slowly crawl back into proper tilt, the spin slowing. It will be enough, I can do this. I was not too late this time…

Now to reinforce the structure around the chamber… Darna’s eighth? No, too flimsy with the Netheric mana now seeping into the exposed city. Darna’s seventeenth, yes, that one will do.

Webs of mana trace lines that become runes with intentions imbued in them. They hold the creaking metal that wishes to fall around me. It is not pretty, but it will do, for now. My eyes tilt upwards; there are more souls that are fighting above. Victoria, then we fix the city.

I make a point to use what’s left of the door as I leave, pressing my soul outward and enhancing my body. Within seven breaths, I am upon the surface of the city to join the fray. More have joined Victoria to battle Arkon.

They fight in one of the residential districts with no regard for the souls that are being extinguished. There are three in the sixth bound and nine in the fifth. Arkon has been fighting all of them alone. He is more formidable than I thought for a youngling.

Arkon is the first to notice me, he kicks one of Victoria’s men through a building then leaps to me, “The city, is it saved?”

“I delayed its fall.”

“We agreed…”

“I…” my face twitches, the shame of these words, “I can’t do it alone, it’s too complex, too many circuits.”

“Kotina, the boy?”

“I placed warding runes around them, I can be there in a moment if needed.”

Victoria yells across the bloody battlefield, “Aww, little baby Arkon had to call daddy for help?”

Arkon’s jaw flexes as he says quietly to me, “I am having trouble fighting her with all of these… pests.”

“Well, same deal as before,” I offer. I’ve never liked Victoria, even if Leora told me not to kill her after I found out that she was… doesn’t matter. I don’t see what she sees in her. She is vile, her spirit is like a miasma of greed and avarice. There is some kind of scorn she feels for Arkon, I can feel it in the way that she stalks toward him and ignores me. I can feel the connection to my Goddess returning, yet she does not show herself.

Arkon nods, “You deal with the pests, Victoria is mine, and be careful, I feel drop ships coming. They carry Netheric Imperium Knights no doubt.”

I look skyward, he is not wrong, though I am surprised he noticed them before me. What is his secret to his rapid rise in power I wonder. Victoria roars and she breaks concrete with her shoulder as she plows through the building’s rubble. Perhaps they are both using a similar method. Whatever it is, I feel their foundations are somewhat unstable. They will never breach the eighth let alone the ninth unless they address it.

“As you wish,” I say, rolling up my sleeves. I can’t let a junior outshine me. I will end this in three breaths. Besides, Leora said that my master has taken an interest in the boy. Perhaps that means he is here, watching to see if I have improved as well. I’ve made little progress in the last thousand years. If I do not handle Victoria’s lackies in three breaths or less, he will surely make fun of me again.

“We move.”

The rubble beneath Arkon’s thick metal boots shatters as he bounds forward. The pests as he called them leap into action as he moves. If I drew my Edict, I could cut them to pieces with a whisper. However, explaining to the Imperium why I drew it earlier to stop Thorn’s bombardment will already be a pain.

So many rules to bind us. Rules they never follow themselves. A sigh falls as my body breaks the sound barrier. Three strikes in one breath send the first into a coma, one strike to a woman who thought overextension an ally brings her leg to bend around her back. The next two fall with barely a whimper. They don’t make bounders like they used to, this generation is weak. Bones brittle like wheat, muscles barely toned. They take the strength from the bounds and call it at that. Raven’s are one of the few that produce real warriors of late, them and Draconis. Perhaps that is why they have a feud. I barely take note of the next that fall, how did Arkon have trouble with them?

Are they truly at the Seventh? The standards of power have fallen in my seclusion. I was wrong to be wary of them before.

A sudden knot writhes in my stomach as my focus turns to something else, twelve souls come directly for the reactor room where I left Kotina and the boy, all of them are in the fourth bound, save one who is barely below it. They’re so weak that I barely felt them. Victoria’s confidence makes more sense, she brought an army of bounders to act as distractions and vermin. They are not enough to give me even a moment of pause on a normal day, but with my mind strewn across so many runes that hold the structure together, this may be somewhat challenging, especially if they start breaking things.

“Arkon, are you sure you don’t want help?”

He shoots me a glare through his broken visor, there is fire in his cold eyes. Potential in his movements, yet Victoria is something strange, her power is increasing still. Is there a god giving her strength directly? That would explain the jumps in power. What god though? Her patron goddess Balencia is weaker than Leora after her fall from grace. So who then?

“You rely on borrowed power,” Arkon says, pushing her back.

“You think you’re so strong, fight me like you mean it, or are you afraid people will find out your secret?”

His secret? The secret to his strength perhaps. I sigh, the twelve bounders are nearly there, “Apologies, Arkon, but I’m in a rush.”

The air whirls into a tornado obstructing the air and pelting them both with debris. I leave a mana body behind, a fabricated aura as I suppress my own and move toward Victoria. She will not see me coming, a dirty tactic, but I have little time. Her bones are stronger than Veranthian steel, and her muscles are toned to the physical limit of her bound, mine are toned further.

I focus all of my strength and runic power into the singular spot that will hit her. All offense, no defense, a risky gambit for someone as young as them, but I was beyond the seventh before their parents were even born.

My strike hits her so hard that her armor shatters, carving her enhanced flesh. She should have worked more on strengthening her skin as well. Children these days. The building she collides with is empty of souls, it explodes with heat as she moves through it, the next and the next turn to rubble as well, until she has fallen from the side of the city into the skies. At the seventh she will be able to fly, but I think she’ll think twice before challenging both of us. She should be smart enough to know that if I summon the manifestation of my will, she will lose soundly.

“I said she was mine,” Arkon growls.

“You were taking too long.”

His jaw tenses but he nods and we turn to move toward the reactor again, but something heavy is in the air, a Netherium array pulses from above as thousands of shards rain down upon us. Arkon’s armor raises above him. Foolish, it will not stop Netherium, surely he… the Netherium shatters against his armor.

He’s wearing Ulatar metal armor? I blink, but… that thick, it would weigh a ridiculous amount. Beyond ridiculous. Even someone in the eighth would struggle to move it. Yet the ground around him is barely disturbed by his weight… don’t tell me…

His eyes glance over at me, “We should move.”

My blades deflect the Netherium with ease, relative to my ability they are moving slowly, these types of arrays are not effective against high bounders. Only other high bounders are.

“Shit,” I breathe, “The reactor.”

The air screams as we move. His feet thunder, but not as much as they ought with how heavy his armor must be. If he took it off, how strong would he actually be?

I have been too complacent. A youngster is outdoing me.  

It is worse than before when I arrive well before Arkon. Half of the runes are a mess of mixed mana. These vultures are breaking them. I was so distracted. They really do mean to kill the city.

A waste of talented souls, but they have angered me, and my goddess said nothing of Victoria’s minions, “Barely above the fourth and she sends you poor creatures to find death.”

Their eyes turn and the first three try to run, air explodes in their lungs rupturing their internal organs. Those in the fourth are powerless against those far above them. Especially when they face one like me. The rest bleed from the eyes. Their souls aren’t strong enough to stop me from manipulating the air in their bloodstream.

Lambs to the slaughter. Still… looking around, they have destroyed any hope I had to save this city. All of this is so wasteful.

There are still choices here. Take the boy and leave this city to its fate. Try and save it and probably fail, but surely lose the boy. He is dangerous. Whatever power he drew upon is not normal. It is old, perhaps older than the old gods themselves. I felt the end of our realm when I felt his power. Like a wild fire that would burn until nothing remained.

Time is slowed as my thoughts flow quickly. Arkon should be able to deal with Victoria now that the pests are gone. Victoria will return soon, I could break Victoria… but my goddess is already very upset. She could send me to my knees by force, many of my runes are still bound to her after all. Though in this room, I am shielded from her.

Choices, choices.

Arkon arrives as I ponder. Which is the worse evil? The boy has bonded with the Edict in a strange way, he will fall to its power eventually, they all do. How many will he kill when he turns?

I was not there to stop Amon… that has haunted me for a thousand years.

My head turns, more drop ships come, I can feel the thick pressure of Netheric weapons, as if they will be enough to subdue me. Arkon though, how will he fare? He is not as old or experienced as me. Though he is strong. Very strong.

“What are you waiting for?” Arkon barks, looking around at the sparking room.

“It’s for naught, we can’t save it now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Arkon grabs Kotina and then the boy.

“I don’t have quarrel with you,” he says.

“If you’re taking him, you do.”

Kalon grabs a piece of metal and tries to pull himself to the ground, Arkon stares at him as he mumbles. I can tell the boy is still dreaming, yet his will beckons him to stay here.

“Try to save them… you must try…”

Arkon looks at the lines of darkness that ebb up the boy’s throat, but they don’t move as they normally should before someone becomes a Krothaspawn. Something is off, something is strange.

“Believe…”

My teeth grit.

“You are more than destruction…”

He’s dreaming, but about what? About who? Is he able to watch me somehow? Is he telling me to try? He doesn’t understand some things simply can’t be done.

“It’s impossible, we can’t do it all.”

“Become more…”

Arkon looks up at me, “Can we save the city?”

“No, we can’t, he is dream walking, do not let his fever dreams confuse you.”

Suddenly the metal rips asunder as Victoria crashes into the room, within a half a breath she places a hand on the closest Etherium core. A large circular one double her size.

“Get fucked, pricks.”

Her mana ricochets into it as she grins. She means to make it release all of its power all at once as an explosion… She’s insane, a blast like that will kill us all. Pure insanity. The city rattles a deep rumble and begins to plummet as she diverts the power from its barely functioning drives.

“Gods damn you,” I growl.

“Better run,” she laughs manically.

The boy whispers something, “Zarae… please… help them…”

“Fuck,” Arkon groans, moving toward the exit, but something happens before he makes it.

Light begins to burn brightly upon the boy’s body, his eyes are dipped in silver and gold, the sclera darker than night. Runes that I don’t understand move from his hands as though his thoughts alone shape the will of mana itself. Thousands of them etch in a mere breath, encompassing the room, all of the Etherium in the reactor hums as it turns to dust and wraps him pushing Arkon away. Netherium from above the city comes in waves like it’s drawn by a powerful magnet.

None of us move, no… none of us can move. Time is slowed to barely a crawl, yet the boy moves as though possessed by the spirit of a god. He bleeds from the eyes and the ears heavy drops that roll so slowly they are nearly still.

Words come from his mouth that hurt my ears, I know of the tongue, any who pass through their gates know it, it is the precursor’s… the ancient tongue. The tongue of their gods. A tongue we mortals cannot comprehend.

Light spills into the sky like it comes from the heavens, mana in the atmosphere trembles and pulls towards the center of the city, near the Etherium drives that held it in the sky.

Power pulses and I feel eternity in each pulse of power, millions of runes that I have never seen sprawl endlessly outward covering everything in sight. The boy’s hand raises and the city slows its descent, I can feel the gravity shifting, even as time moves forward, none of us can move.

When the city hits the ground it shakes like an earthquake, but it holds… it actually holds.

Has this boy awakened the Goddess of Destiny… Zarae… then the legends, the prophecy… all of it… is it real?

The boy collapses to the ground and all the light ruptures and fades in an instant. Blood seeps from him profusely. He’s barely breathing. Still, none of us move, not because we can’t anymore but because we are left… speechless.

Like a ghost, my master strides into the remnants of the room slowly, looking down from his wide brimmed hat. His blue skin shines in the low light from the remnants of Etherium. I haven’t seen him take this form in many years, it’s always ever changing like his legacy allows. The last few hundred years he wore the face of an old Kuwathi man. This face is nostalgic though, it is the form that I knew him by when he found me as a boy all those years ago.  

He approaches Kalon and kneels next to him and gently places his hand on the boy’s back, “Sleep well, you have earned your rest, child of the dawn.”