Chapter 1: Wounded Deva
In the dark cave that was Riful's lair, Lord Dante kneeled before his mistress. "I have returned," he declared politely.
"Welcome back, Dante," chirped Riful, who had been fiddling with her brown hair while sitting on a small, unassuming chair. "Now that you're here, tell me everything," she said.
"As per your orders, I attempted to Awaken the former Number Forty-Seven, as part of her debt to you, but I was unable to catch her as you had requested. When she managed to escape, I tried to Awaken the two warriors who stayed behind to hold me back."
"So, how did it go?" she asked. "You let them survive, didn't you? It's not like I like killing talented warriors."
"Indeed they are talented. I would even go so far as to suggest that you underestimated them, my Lady," said Dante. "I could barely sense any weakness at all. Even when I threatened them with actual death, as per your orders, they were… unmoved."
"That's amazing," said Riful, her eyes wide in genuine astonishment. "They've progressed this far? And how did they hold up against you?"
"Ineffectually. I'm not surprised. But what is surprising is that neither broke, not even the younger one. In fact, after I had defeated the older one and struck her to the ground, my eyes momentarily met that of the junior's. The fury behind those silver eyes…" he paused. "They share a bond of such great closeness that I faintly remember having experienced it myself. I suspect that intimacy is what enabled them to defeat their desire to Awaken. Therefore, I had no alternative but to leave."
"You're right," sighed Riful, pouting. "Really, neither you or Dauf have ever been able to get any high-level warriors to Awaken since that incident with… Jean, that's the one. The Number Nine of Alicia and Beth's generation. And to make things worse, Isley has Priscilla," she grimaced, her pleasant countenance, for just one moment, darkening. "So far, they are unbeatable. They're the ones I'm worried about."
"Yet I sense an unknown force making its way to the city of Darene, now. It seems someone has decided to deal with those stubborn women who refuse to stay dead."
"It's too soon," grumbled Riful. "The Organization is up to something big this time." For one moment, her teeth clenched. "I don't like how things are turning out."
Dante noticed. "Shall I pursue? Should anyone kill the warriors you seek to Awaken, it will be yet another setback for our plans. Even worse, nothing will change on this accursed continent; neither our situation nor the position of the Organization's."
"Well, let them be." Riful smiled again. "Weaklings don't deserved to be tortured about the knowledge of the War. It is the powerful who can truly make a difference. So leave them be. I'll be sending you out again very soon."
"Yes, milady."
Riful smiled as Dante rose and turned to leave the dank chamber.
It was an interesting time to be an Awakened One.
"At the very least, this could lead to something interesting," she murmured to herself. "Who knows; we may finally be able to settle the balance of power in this land, once and for all."
*
Hastily garbed in her new black dress, Galatea had taken Cynthia by the hand and hurried back to where their comrades had waited. "Why is this Yoki blurred; garbled? As if they are synchronized, yet separately individual?" muttered Galatea, as they pushed their way past the crowds and finally made it to Miria and the others. They also looked concerned, and the sudden disturbance seemed to have interrupted a tight-knit conversation they had been sharing. "This doesn't even feel like true Yoki anymore."
"That is because…" Tabitha closed her eyes. "This is not Yoki; merely a powerful aura. And there is not one, but several."
"Impossible," said Galatea. "I was sure it was a diffused saturation of Yoki."
"Either we have never encountered this kind of Yoki before, or whoever is emanating this true aura was able to throw us off-guard with mistaking them to be something else."
"Beings who can manipulate their aura? Whether voluntarily or not, that sounds outrageous. Who can have such a mighty aura and exist free from Yoma blood?" whispered Deneve.
One glance between the ten women and the understanding was mutual: prepare for battle.
The city gates boomed open, as if in response to an external command. Yuma and Clarice stared in astonishment as six tall figures walked into the city; their metal greaves tapping heavily on the ground. They were quite obviously soldiers, and they were grand in their entrance; awe-inspiring in their splendour. They were resplendent from head to toe in perfect shining platinum and tall Burgonets that allowed only slits for their eyes. All six of them carried a great glaive, a massive halberd that was longer than their bodies, and jeweled longswords fixed at their hilts. Covering their platinum armour was a dark cloak and cape that were sewn with the insignia of Rabona's deity.
"They are here," one of them boomed.
"Over there," declared another of the towering Knights.
Although they completely ignored the townspeople, the bustling surroundings suddenly became a lot quieter. Fear gripped the air as the new arrivals made their way towards the former warriors, striding purposefully towards the women as if they had known them all their lives.
Tabitha no longer needed to close her eyes. "Formidable opponents…"
"You saved us the trouble of scouring this city for you, women," declared the largest of the soldiers, stopping several feet apart from them. His voice was audible, but harsh and deep. "Have you any inkling of how dire your situation is; that we must face you in broad daylight?"
"Who the hell – " started Helen.
"Shut up," snapped the man. "Keep your filthy mouth silent, you traitorous witch. I am addressing the leader of these demons – " he pointed at Miria, who remained calm. "The self-appointed inquisitor of the Organization, former Number Six."
"Listen, you s – "
"Helen," said Miria quietly. "Get the humans out of here." She subtly positioned herself in a fighting stance – her left foot ever so slightly in front of her, and her hand just in position to draw her sword in an instant. "Who are you?"
"We are soldiers of the Western Gate. People like you shouldn't know, but given that we were commissioned to execute you, I should at least do the honour of enlightening you on who we are."
"Since you've accused me and declared me execution-worthy so readily, I'm not going to play ignorant," said Miria, suppressing a smile at the shocked silence from the soldiers. "I also know about you from my investigations. You're nothing truly secretive; you're merely part of a vast beast."
"Miria," whispered Clarice, "who are they?"
"They are the weathered, seasoned soldiers of the continuing War against the Dragon Tribes; the warriors who require the ultimate weapon of controllable Awakened Beings. In other words, they are the reason why the Organization exists. They are the reason why…" she closed her eyes. "Why we are half-human, half-Yoma."
Yuma and Clarice gasped. Clare's eyes widened, and Helen's expression turned into one of fury. "Why you – "
"I told you to get the humans to safety," repeated Miria, without looking. "Clarice, go with her."
Helen and Clarice momentarily hesitated, before running to disperse the bewildered and frightened crowds.
Completely unaffected, the apparent leader of the soldiers responded to Miria. "You will not listen to reason, will you? You have not stopped your subversive, destructive movements for quite some time. As a result, your existence endangers the safety of this nation. For this reason, we were recalled from the Continent to personally execute you."
"You have no idea what you are doing," hissed another of the soldiers. "Your meddling and probing into how this nation functions is completely detrimental to its well-being. To be recalled from the field of battle at a time like this is unthinkable; but this is simply telling of our Deputy Gate Marshal's concern." Within his helm, his eyes narrowed. "You are a traitor who will destroy the future of this nation."
"Indeed I'm a traitor," replied Miria, almost lazily. "The Organization does seem to suffer from a significant number of freethinkers these days."
"Were you sent on order of Rimuto?" asked Galatea.
"Do not be a fool. Backwater peons have no authority on us. Only the Grand General holds jurisdiction over us; over the army that needs controllable Awakened Beings to protect this nation from the Descendants. But you – " his voice, already overbearingly hostile, became twisted and hateful. "You just have to undermine all that we've worked towards – "
"How were you able to pass of your aura as that of a powerful Yoma's?" interrupted Clare, her voice quiet. "It's something that is quite incredible for a human to be able to do."
"You seem to be rather oblivious of the situation you have put yourself into," growled the leader. His grip on his weapon visibly tightened. "Even if I answered, would such an explanation suffice for your useless little minds?" Suddenly he lunged and sliced at Miria, but she had leaped away, anticipating effortlessly the muscle movement of the human male. She eyed him cautiously, even as he shouted for his comrades to move into a raiding formation.
We will not kill you. Our lives will not be stained by your despicable blood.
Galatea's eyes narrowed, and she moved forward to help. But Cynthia stepped forward. "Do what you do best, Your Holiness," murmured the younger warrior. She moved in front of Galatea protectively. "Defend the people."
Galatea smiled in understanding, and stepped back as Cynthia charged the soldiers alongside Tabitha and Yuma. "Helen!" she called. Helen, who had been yelling at the remaining stragglers to leave, turned her head. "I'll take your place. They need you," said Galatea, nodding. Helen licked her lips in understanding and drew her sword, hurtling towards the soldiers of the Right Gate. One of them, who had remained silent all this time, swung at her –
"Oh, piss off." Helen's right arm suddenly elongated and shot at the man with unbelievable speed. The soldier, shocked, struggled to avoid it. Helen's impact crashed into the ground, leaving a miniature crater. The soldier's eyes narrowed. He aimed his glaive at her and sprinted. But Helen attacked again and this time, her aim struck true, her Claymore tearing through the glaive, splitting it through the middle, and doing the same to his arms. He shrieked in pain at the Claymore drove through his hands and arms. Helen retracted her arm as he collapsed from the pain. "So the armour's all for show? Pah!" shouted Helen in scorn. She smirked at Cynthia. "Don't lag behind, senior!" she crowed, as the former Number Fourteen narrowly dodged the blades of two hunters. She somersaulted away as Tabitha and Yuma stepped forward parried the glaives.
Suddenly, one of the hunters drew their longsword, and Yuma stumbled back, a trail of blood trickling from her thigh. Tabitha growled and stabbed at the man who had cut Yuma. He parried with success. "I'm going to kill you," he roared in triumph, bringing down his sword. But Cynthia had predicted his move and shifted forward and deflected his attack. He rolled back, expecting her to follow through, but she stayed her hand. "You don't want to kill us? How touching," he sneered, charging forward again as his comrade did the same. Cynthia shifted forward, but paused as Miata suddenly dashed in between her and the soldiers. One strike from her blade, and the hunters were forced back. She leaped forward and thrust her blade into her opponent's open stomach. He screamed and collapsed. Cynthia glanced behind her to see the other hunter recovering from Miata's sudden attack. She calmly raised the hilt of her sword and slashed across his body in a calculatedly non-lethal move, only ensuring it was painful enough for him to fall down in defeat.
One of the shorter soldiers raised his giant glaive and swung at Clare. To the uneducated eye, it looked clumsy, unwieldy. But from years of using Claymores, Clare knew that the moment their blades connected, the opponent she faced had trained, fought, and bled through many decisive moments in his life to be worthy of his weapon. She was forced back slightly. Encouraged, the soldier followed up with a diagonal strike –
Strong. But in the end, they are still human. In one movement of utter finesse and strategic superiority, Clare shifted her Yoki into Irene's arm. It moved – far too quickly for her attacker to block, and one unexpected slash was all it took to slice his arms off, and his armoured body stumbled, falling to the ground. She calmly stood up even as the man roared in pain and rage.
We will not kill you. Our consciences will not be burdened by your heartless souls.
"Clare! Look out," cried Cynthia, as the fifth hunter raised his glaive behind her. Clare turned, calmly lifting her sword to meet his strike, when a Claymore suddenly pierced through his armoured thigh, splitting his leg in half. A sickening crunch of metal blade against human bone could be heard. Gore trickled out of the man's plates even as Helen casually retracted her arm back to its normal length. "That was close," breathed Cynthia, watching the man fold, yelling in agony.
"Don't misjudge our abilities, senior," shrugged Helen. "We haven't survived this long through sheer luck."
Miria dodged slash after slash from the burly leader's glaive, unaffected by his battlecries. Although she had an advantage, she still felt surprise. For a human, he is unbelievably fast. She suddenly shifted, and her New Mirage shot past the soldier. But of course. He doesn't fight mere Yoma, nor even Awakened Beings. For years he has struggled to survive against the superior race of Dragon Tribes. Of greater strength, the determined slash of her sword sent her opponent's glaive spinning upwards. The other growled and drew his longsword and thrust at Miria. She dodged and counterattacked. Their swords met, and to her surprise, his strength was formidable; comparable to hers. "You're pretty good," she commented. "Still, your commander was a fool to have sent six human men to execute ten half-Yoma."
"Our bodies and spirits have been forged in the fires of a Hell you can never understand," hissed the man. "We are of an Army that has fought against beings far more powerful than some useless Yoma or Awakened Being. All we hoped for was for someone to help set right the imbalance of power. Yet you – "
"Yes. I refuse to cooperate with some higher purpose that throws human value to the wolves." Miria forced him back, and she tapped into her Yoki again, rushing towards him. He tried to block her sword, but his eyes widened in shock as it passed straight through – he had been deceived by her Mirage. She struck from his side, and neatly severed his right arm. Ducking under a wild swing from his remaining gauntleted fist, she slashed upwards and carved a deep wound across his plated chest. He fell back and collapsed, unable to fight back.
"Your harvesting of innocent lives ends here, nameless soldier," said Miria, pointing her sword at him. "We've put an end to six fighting careers today; we'll put an end to the Organization itself as well. It's only a matter of time."
"This land exists for us to bring down the Descendants. You must understand that you serve this great purpose! You will pay sorely for your stubborn resistance," said the leader bitterly. Only just managing to get up, he gestured with his left arm, bidding the others to retreat. "This isn't over," he spat, as the defeated soldiers stumbled in the direction of the city gates. "We will return your insolence with wrath a hundredfold."
Clare tried her best to hide her smirk as the soldiers fled from their presence.
The Organization and its allies have always underestimated the people it thinks it controls… sending riffraff to fight against vastly superior warriors.
I learnt that when I saw Teresa's 'execution' for the first time…
And her… final battle as well…
Humans… really do never learn… one way or another.
*
It was nighttime. Helen always felt good relaxing at an inn when it was late into the evening, especially when she and her friends were hosted by a grateful woman. The elderly lady was one of those who had been guided out of danger by Galatea and Clarice. Although the battle in the city square hadn't been as destructive as their skirmish with Agatha, there were still concern that innocents could be harmed.
Tonight's hearty meal was testament to the people's safety.
They sat around a rectangular table, the ten of them, conversing of the day's events. While they all seemed reasonably unhurt and unruffled, the revelations were indeed shocking. And furthermore, Miata was clutching at Clarice, who looked thoroughly uncomfortable.
It couldn't be helped. Poor kid. "Those humans; they were still pretty strong," remarked Helen, taking a swig of ale. "We've trained and fought for so long, and these human men still managed to resist us, if only for a short while."
"Yes," said Deneve quietly, chewing slowly at a piece of bread. "They had talent, that is for certain. I had never known that one could not just suppress a natural aura, but even disguise it as that of a Yoki's. It would prevent traitors to the Organization ever knowing who these soldiers were; and the dead can't talk of any Army.
"But that strategy would've worked only if they had won against us. Since they underestimated us, now they're in some pretty deep trouble," shrugged Deneve, closing her eyes and taking another bite from her loaf.
"It was almost a good thing they came. Soldiers assigned to something called the Western Gate, huh? And they're commanded by some Deputy Gate Marshal, huh? They babbled a lot more than they thought." Helen smirked. "Well, too bad. That's what you get when you get too cocky in your role as executioner. Hey, Miria? You got a lot more information than you expected, didn't you?"
"Hmm," acknowledged Miria, deep in thought.
"He mentioned in passing a so-called Grand General," said Deneve. "Could this man be the one behind…"
"Everything?" completed Yuma, her eyes wide in disbelief. "It's almost…"
"It seems outrageous," agreed Miria. "My guess is that the soldiers we fought were assigned to certain posts somewhere in the Continent during their battles against the Descendants. One of them must be the Western Gate; and these soldier's commander must be the Western Gate Marshal. And more importantly, I suspect either the Grand General, or someone with the power and influence equivalent to the Grand General, is the man who commissioned the production and experimentation of Awakened Beings to the Organization."
"But… the existence of half-human, half-Yoma warriors and Awakened Beings has been known for many, many decades… how could the Grand General have lived through so many generations to oversee this project?" asked Yuma nervously.
"Use your head," said Deneve. "It may simply be a hereditary title, or more likely, the highest rank of this Army that Miria was talking about. The Army that is now still fighting the Dragon Tribes despite the War having raged for centuries."
"Either way, this is serious information that will be of immense importance to us in the future," said Miria, standing up. "But there are still things that remain a complete mystery to us."
"Such as, how did they manage to track us here, in Darene?" muttered Clare.
"I would suggest," said Miria, and her voice was not jesting, "that perhaps the Army's expanding its influence; tightening its control over the land ever since it discovered so many of the Organization's warriors went renegade."
Galatea's face was grim. "It seems that the foes we will face in future will be quite the challenge. I'm sure they've learnt from this fiasco. They will not underestimate us again."
"You're right," said Miria, barely able to suppress a tired sigh. She left the table and began to walk towards the door.
"I'm going to rest. You all shouldn't push yourselves too hard, either." And with that, she left the room.
*
Miria felt slightly guilty for not telling the complete truth. What she really wanted was some fresh air, some coolness to balance the warmth of the inn. As she stood outside, observing the sleeping streets of the city, she sensed that Helen had joined her. She did not even turn her head as her longtime comrade stood beside her. "Hey."
"Helen," she acknowledged, crossing her arms.
"A fine group we got going here, haven't we? From four, to seven. From seven, to ten. I almost miss the old days when it was just you leading me, Deneve and Clare."
"I wish this group consisted of everyone from the Northern Campaign," murmured Miria, to which Helen could not muster a reply. "I'd much rather have everyone with us, although… ten's not too bad, either."
"Alrighty," said Helen, slightly humbled. "Say… I wanted to tell you this for a while." Her eyes shone with a mischievous glint. "It's about Cynthia and Galatea."
"Ah." Miria smiled. "What could those two be up to? To my knowledge, they only recently got acquainted."
"But when you sent me to tell them about your plans for coming to Darene, I saw something quite fun," said Helen, grinning. "Those two are pretty comfortable with each other."
Miria raised an eyebrow. "Really. I suspected something strange ever since that night Cynthia brought Galatea back from their battle with Dante." She let out a sigh. "Not that it's my business, despite being their leader. I haven't been comfortable with anyone since Hilda was taken from me." Miria raised her face to look at the moonlit, star-studded sky. "I'm not totally sure about everything that's happened between them, but if it's what you and I suspect… then really, good for them. It's… a rare gift for us half-humans, half-Yoma. I can't guarantee what's going to happen to us in the future, even with my new plan and all the new revelations we've received today. Our war is against the Organization. So, as long as it doesn't endanger the group, I'll let them embarrass themselves all they like."
Helen snorted in reply. "You're not much fun these days, are you?"
Miria smiled ever so slightly. "I wasn't ever much fun, Helen. Come on," she continued, making her way back inside the inn. "I'm going to sleep. We've a lot of work ahead of us in the following weeks."
Helen smirked again. We love you too, Miria.
"Yes, captain."
