FALL SEVEN TIMES

by Ulquiorra9000

Chapter 25

"The... partisans?" Mizuki repeated.

A man with short, coppery hair (and matching copper plates on his skin) nodded. "The united resistance to the Phyrexian infection that welled up from our world's core. We were stronger... once. Before the fall."

Azrael's brown eyes softened. "I am not unfamiliar with such a fate."

One of the women in the rescue group glanced at him. "You seem... odd. Where are you from?"

"Another world," Azrael told her. "An island nation that also fell to the Phyrexians. It nearly drove me to madness. I... used my artifice expertise in an attempt to reverse the loss of life, and nearly ruined the Multiverse in the process."

Many of the rescuers looked at him in awe and bewilderment.

"We can talk later," the man with the high-tech helmet said. "Guests, we will provider you with shelter here, but you'll have to answer a few questions for us, too. You must understand."

"Fair's fair," Mizuki said with a shrug.

Once in the cave town's perimeter, Mizuki saw that it was hardly a charming frontier settlement. She felt a chill as she caught the hollow, haunted looks in the people's eyes, or how many houses were dedicated to holding the injured and ill. On one side of town, several dead bodies were piled into a stone ring, and set ablaze. Everywhere, people coughed, moaned, or sharpened battle-worn weapons.

This was all that remained of Mirrodin's people?

"Are there other settlements like this one?" Azrael asked as the partisans led him and Mizuki to the largest structure.

"Yeah," the copper-skinned man said, "but if you're clear to visit the others, you can use our teleports to reach them. They only connect each settlement to the others, though, so don't expect to escape the Phyrexian on the surface with them."

Once inside the main building, Mizuki saw the promised teleport pad: a disk of polished steel six feet wide, ringed with glowing blue and white mana crystals, all supported in an elaborate latticework of chrome. It seemed to be shut off for the moment, while Mirran partisans went about their business planning raids or repairing weapons and armor.

"This is the settlement's headquarters," the helmeted man explained. "Our leader often visits each base's HQ to coordinate raids and other missions. In fact, we're expecting him later today. You might meet him."

Mizuki didn't get a chance to comment on that before she and Azrael were whisked into a meeting room and seated at a rectangular iron table. A tall, thin man with wispy white hair and gold pauldrons fused onto his shoulders stepped in, and he sat at the head of the table.

"I am Drenn, a lieutenant of the Mirran partisans," he explained in a strong, but smooth voice. He clenched his fists on the table's surface. "I was once of the Auriok tribe, and I haven't seen the grass of the Razor Fields in months. And now I'm told that two powerful visitors have arrived, who may restore hope to us."

Mizuki blinked. "Uh... what?"

Azrael leaned forward in his seat. "What were you told about us, Drenn?"

Drenn gave Azrael a hard look. "That you can, and will, aid us, should you intend to remain in our sanctuary. Those who cannot help us are left for the Phyrexians on the surface."

Whoa. He doesn't mess around! Mizuki forced a smile. "Sure, I can fight. And Azrael here. My name's Mizuki, buy the way."

Drenn locked that hard look onto Mizuki. "You both are clearly other-worlders. Explain yourselves."

There was no hiding it. So, Mizuki and Azrael took turns explaining it all: Azrael's island nation of Ezig Natum falling to the Phyrexians, the quest for the Sphaera Vitae, Nihil's mission, the Phyrexian invasion of Kamigawa, and the struggling Kamigawa coalition under Daimyo Kirinji's leadership. And, of course, the fall of Minamo Academy, and the lingering mystery of why the Phyrexians craved that school so much.

Drenn sighed through his nose and sat back. "I am familiar with planar-walkers -"

"Planeswalkers," Mizuki blurted. She went red when Drenn glared at her.

"I have met planeswalkers before," Drenn said doggedly. "And witnessed their astonishing powers and arcane knowledge. That woman with the staff, that Koth fellow of the Hammer Tribe... and others. The Neruok and Moriok scouts tell us that another planeswalker, a man with a metal arm and cold aura, consorts with the Phyrexians to some degree. His mission is unknown."

Mizuki shared a glance with Azrael. "I didn't realize that there were other planeswalkers here," she admitted.

Azrael pursed his lips. "Me, neither. This warrants further thought."

"Let Jor Kadeen and his lieutenants, such as myself, consider the implications," Drenn said sharply. "Should you both be of service to the coalition, we will lend you our resources. But our leadership is well-established. It must be respected."

Mizuki sat up straighter. "Y-yes, sir. So, this Jor Kadeen is your boss?"

"He keeps us alive, in spirit and body," Drenn said with awe. "He wields red and white magic, and his knowledge of artifice is transcendant. Without him, we all would have become compleat before now."

Azrael bowed his head. "I, too, am well-versed with artifice. I graduated with honors from my university, and I have studied metalcrafting on several worlds. Perhaps I can help you in that capacity, and learn in the process."

"Really." Drenn evaluated Azrael carefully. "The armor workshop could use you, if that's all true." He glanced at Mizuki. "And you, young Mizuki?"

"I fight, mainly," Mizuki said simply. "I'm a survivor, too. My hometown was slaughtered when a demoness attacked, and I've been through all kinds of fights with monsters and armies. And I have a pretty great sword, too."

"I see. There's a place in our raid parties for you, if that's true," Drenn said with a nod. "Very well! Azrael, let us test your capabilities."

"If you wish." Azrael stood and tossed his red hair. "But I request that Mizuki join us."

"Why?" Drenn demanded.

"So I may outfit her with any equipment that I forge," Azrael said. "I will aid the partisans, to be sure, but Mizuki and I are sworn travel companions. Our quest against the Phyrexians goes beyond even your struggles here on New Phyrexia. And we may soon have the aid of other planeswalkers as well."

"Very well, very well," Drenn said impatiently. "Let us go, then!"

*o*o*o*o*

Azrael wasn't kidding; Mizuki watched in awe, later in the workshop, as Azrael combed his way through the many half-built prototypes and damaged constructs in the large armory. Other partisans cleared the way as Azrael ran his hands over the machines, his nose close to the metal, muttering to himself the whole time. Blue and black mana hummed on his fingertips as he went.

"Your friend is remarkable," an Auriok woman said fondly to Mizuki, standing nearby as Azrael worked.

"Yeah, he's pretty smart," Mizuki commented as Azrael obsessively ran his fingers on a battlesuit's horned helmet.

"We don't have enough men like him in our ranks," the woman sighed.

Mizuki gave her a funny look. "Hands off, lady."

The woman shyly glanced away.

At any rate, Azrael soon scoped out the entire workshop's worth of supplies, then turned to face Drenn. "I sense anti-Phyrexian enchantments hammered into the metal," he said, "and concentrated mana in reserve tanks in the higher-quality suits. A full-body vein-administered defense matrix?"

Mizuki didn't know what the hell that meant, but Drenn nodded. "Exactly," he said. "You have seen such technology before?"

"The people of Ezig Natum, my home, had developed it," Azrael explained. "And an aether-based analogue exists on Kaladesh."

Mizuki couldn't help it. "What kinda armor is that?"

With Drenn's permission, Azrael opened up the chest plating on a polished battlesuit. He pointed at the innards. "See this, Mizuki? A tank of anti-Phyrexian mana, sealed with hypo-ether valves and pumps attached to the tank's outer surface."

"Sorry, I don't talk tech."

"It's like a person's cardiovascular system," Azrael explained rapidly. "The tank is the heart. When worn, the suit will spread its mana through thin tubes from head to toe, infusing the whole suit with that anti-Phyrexian power. It greatly strengthens the wearer, and protects them from phyresis and most physical and arcane attacks."

Mizuki stared. "Whoa. We could use that on Kamigawa!"

"You are not taking that suit off-world!" Drenn roared. "Do you realize how precious few we have?"

Mizuki winced. "Sorry. I just meant -"

"Be calm, everyone," Azrael said. "I can replicate this."

Drenn stared. "You what? Not even our best team of artificers -"

"Went to my university," Azrael cut in. "I can improvise the parts for another battlesuit like this, or perhaps two copies. I will need resources. Drenn, this workshop seems a bit low on parts... perhaps you could send a team to obtain more?"

Mizuki stepped forward. "If it means makin' an anti-Phyrexian armor suit, I'll go. Let me help."

Drenn collected himself. "Y-yes, of course. I will prepare a raid party, and we will raid the Progress Engine's outposts as soon as we can. Azrael... thank you."

Azrael fondly ran his hands down the high-tech battlesuit's surface. "No, thank you."

*o*o*o*o*

Zoira coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth once she made landfall on Kamigawa.

Well, this was once Kamigawa, but the twisted hellscape around her was not the land of samurai, nature monks, and venerated spirits. The reddish sun glowed bloodily through gaps in the twisting, purple-gray clouds overhead, and jagged bolts of purple lightning kept flashing on the horizon. The very air was thick with phyresis, denser than normal.

Zoira's eyes watered. I shudder to think what the locals have to endure. She stood up straight, her survival belt clanking on her waist. She stepped forward, and her leather survival boots squished in the oil-soaked dirt. She winced.

Just to be sure, Zoira raised her arm and, in a wreath of red mana, conjured her phoenix. The bird perched itself on Zoira's hand, blinking. It cooed a hello.

"Can you believe it?" the elf said sadly. "Look at this place. It was once so beautiful."

The phoenix cooed again.

"Now I've gotta find Azrael and Mizuki," Zoira told the phoenix. "Think you can help me?"

The phoenix's talons dug into Zoira's skin as it took flight, its brilliant flaming wings a welcome sight in the oppressive gloom of Kamigawa's landscape. It glided on ahead, its powerful eyesight scoping out the ruined hellscape for its master's friends.

Zoira trekked across the oil-soaked hills, noting the withered trees and flowers, and the oil-generating machines that had been implanted at regular intervals. Not another living thing stirred, but Zoira was sure that when she did get company, it would be the Phyrexian kind.

I just left a ruined world, Zoira thought, recalling Zendikar's warped and dusty remains. I'm too late to save this one, either. But I can be here for the Planeswalker's Code. Mizuki... Azrael... I hope you both have a good plan to share with me!