* Final Fantasy XIV – From the Ashes
* Wolf's Rain – Heaven's Not Enough
Chapter CXV: Erring Embers
* Final Fantasy XIV – From the Ashes
With a thunderous clamor, the soil of the black plain was split open while Galahad was blown away dozens of metres into the air.
This earth-shattering result had been caused by nothing more than Nimrod's unrestrained fury.
Whereas he had once been fighting the entire party that had ascended to face him, the dusk king had now singled out the knight as a prime target for annihilation. He practically ignored the existence of the other Masters and Servants; his red eyes did not leave his prey for even an instant. One thing that hadn't changed was the overwhelming violence with which he fought: he had once acted as a wall gradually pressing down on them, but now the wall and everything else were breaking apart in an earthquake.
Even though they were on solid land, the King of Tyrants' rampage made this battlefield feel like a tumultuous sea. In other words, each of his attacks and dashes carried power of such magnitude that they rippled in every direction. For example, when he leaned forward and broke into a frenzied charge, the earth all around him heaved and flew up, tracing a destructive line across his domain. When he actually reached his target and vented his anger, the impact blew everything in the viscinity away. Being witness to this havoc was as ridiculous as watching a storm blast its most violent winds on a single straw.
But the victim of the hunter's ire was not a defenseless straw – like a lone rock in the midst of the waves, Galahad remained despite being drowned in a world of turmoil.
That wasn't to say his feet managed to stay planted on the ground. As soon as he and the hunter were within striking range of each other, Nimrod swung his bow-blade with the strength to move mountains, which was about just enough to trump Galahad's stalwart guard. Not enough to break him however; when the impact hurled him away like a rocket, his composure was undisturbed and he kept a sense of the world around him.
He too didn't take his eyes off his enemy.
If he knew it what direction the ground was, there he would also find Nimrod rushing to knock him away once more. Hence, when the time came to plummet like a stone, Galahad held his blade firmly with the tip aimed that way. In an instant, he had to turn from a sturdy cliff into the prow of a ship fending the waves.
The moment came – a second later and he would either crash on the floor, or suffer another of Nimrod's hammer-like blow. But since the hunter's restlessness was causing such destruction around him, Galahad found flying rubbles to kick off and suddenly spun around. His sword drew a luminescent arc, past the ashen giant's weapon and through his flesh. Like sunlight cutting through night, the hunter's back was slashed open.
If Nimrod felt it however, he showed no sign of it.
With a frantic twist of his body, he inverted the momentum and his fist came crashing into Galahad's chest before the knight even touched down. This sent him barrelling away again, leaving a trail of dirt and dust behind him; though it was overshadowed by the mayhem wreaked by the dust king when he dashed after him.
This time around, Galahad stood stoutly as soon as he recovered.
He returned to being an immovable fortress, if that would allow him to withstand the assault.
"Your strength only masks your weakness, fake saviour." In the middle of his charge, the dusk king let loose a curtain of arrows. "Preoccupied by the deeds you must accomplish, you cannot imagine your own demise."
Galahad raised his shield and stood his ground. The soaring fangs of Nimrod fell onto him like heavy rain, blanketing him completely for a second. But while he managed to keep their bite away with his shield, before he could see the end of it Nimrod crashed through his own fire. Galahad's senses had picked up on his approach despite the killing intent permeating this realm. But though his aegis welcomed the blow from the hunter's blade, the momentum behind the latter threatened to throw him down.
"You know not the fears and flaws of Men. You know not what it means to dream. Without the wishes of others to fulfill, you would be as a puppet without strings."
The dusk king followed up with a kick. His leg, which was almost as tall as Galahad himself, slammed into the shield with a feral passion. The knight's guard had already been dented and was now on the verge of breaking. Even so he held on, resisting the crashing wave of extreme force by a hair's breadth. The fact that he had to pour all of his strength into defense meant that he could not strike back, and it only invited Nimrod to attack again.
The next time the dark blade swooped down on him, the Saber of Red was finally dislodged from his position.
"Desires by proxy. A meaningless waste of life – you will keep marching until you break down, unaware of how wretched a creation you are. You cannot fight for your own dreams, such is the source of your weakness!"
But even when hurled away, Galahad put up a greater resistance than before.
Though his feet left the ground, he stabbed the latter with his sword. The impact of Nimrod's fury should have sent him rolling over hundreds of metres, but he grinded that tumble to a halt and stood up. He knew that his enemy was already charging this way with the intent of even greater harm. If a natural disaster had been granted the ability to bear grudges, it still wouldn't be as vicious a tormenter as the King of Tyrants.
"...I understand."
Nonetheless, Galahad calmly closed his eyes and relaxed the weight on his legs.
After following for so long the dynamic of immovable object and unstoppable force, he had a different trick for the oncoming hunter. When Nimrod closed in on him with the power of a falling star, Galahad bent over slightly and raised his shield. But not to weather the collision – with a swift step and a swing of his arm, he pushed the shield against Nimrod's arm. In doing so he accompanied the ashen giant's movement instead, deflecting his maddened charge in a different direction.
"...I was not made to blend in with humans, to share their grievings and joys. Although I can echo their emotions, they will not be born within myself. I already know: my heart is a mimicry of what they can feel and pass onto each others."
No sooner had Nimrod passed by his target that Galahad switched to offense and chased him. It was a dire enterprise considering the hunter still overflowed with a furor that would be put into actions. Yet, with celerity and steadfastness the knight moved faster and approached from the back. Nimrod only had the time to turn around before the glint of a holy sword lurched at him.
"However, I will not bemoan my existence."
Galahad performed a slash and then another, tracing two gashes that met each other on Nimrod's chest. He knew it would have little effect on its own, and so he didn't let down. He pressed the opening he had found and delivered swing after swing, with an ardour that only went increasing.
If one hoped that Nimrod would be quelled by the onslaught however, they would be disappointed: the ashen giant payed no heed to the blood draining from his carved flesh and let his unbridled rage at the knight. That being said, it was hard to show off as much power when receiving damage himself, and so Galahad managed to contain his retaliation.
"...My life may have contained more closed gates than opened doors, but I will not denigrate it. Nor will I question the worth of my actions. There are many people in this world with hopes and aspirations of their own, yet who haven't found the strength or the resolve. Dreams of a better tomorrow, longings of peace with yesterday – whatever they may be, I will cradle those wishes and I will watch over them. I shall not allow anyone to call them worthless, for they are the heartfelt plea of those who live."
In this contest of endurance, the one gaining more and more terrain was Galahad.
His attacks slowly began to outnumber that of the hunter, until he was pushing him back completely. His sword tore through the arms that held the bow and brought low the legs that wanted to spring forth. But no matter how many time the edge of the holy blade marked him, the fiery glare in Nimrod's eyes was undying, unblinking.
As though undiminished, he still endavored to strike back and his massive body lunged despite it many fatal injuries.
Rather than with his blade, he attacked Galahad with the blood he had spilled: a dark liquid erupted from the open gaps in his body like a fountain of plague. More than lifeblood, that substance was a poison and the knight learned that firsthand when it washed over him.
"...This is my answer, not only as a Grail fashioned by divine hands, but as a knight – as the human Galahad." He brought his sword and shield close to his chest and braced himself. He had faith in what he could accomplish. But more than that, he had the faith of others. "I once journeyed by the side of those who would uphold such ideals. After getting to see the people of this era, those who will use all their strength to find a way... I understand."
His was not the role of an omnipotent wish-granting machine.
He couldn't materialize people's every desires, nor could he gather their dreams to build a world tailored for them. But he could lend them his sword. To fight when ruthless violence threatened the weak. To believe when hope had forsaken the lost. To shine in lieu of stars or moon even in the darkest of nights – he was a beacon of light. He was a knight who gave his strength to those who had none, that they might climb the steps.
This was something both the human and the Divine Construct believed, that his was a radiance that would not be diminished.
And so, as Nimrod's poison crashed over him, Galahad's body emitted an immaculate glow. Not a single drop of the corrosive liquid scorched him; more than being repelled, it looked like the blood was gliding over his body harmlessly. Then, with the same conviction, the holy knight raised his sword and drew an arc of light. His blade split a path through the torrent of death and beyond, cleaving through his enemy.
However–
"...!"
When Galahad saw what was on the other side, he didn't find the King of Tyrants. Despite the outpour of blood, his opponent had already vanished. And since the rest of the plain was too calm, Galahad looked to the only place Nimrod could have ran to – against the grey canvas of this ghostly sky, he saw the ashen giant who had leaped out of reach of his sword.
But as Galahad gauged the distance separating them, someone shouted:
"That is a distraction! Keep your eyes low!" Odysseus warned him from a distance. "He has not gone anywhere!"
"...Eh–"
When the knight looked back down, he saw his enemy's burning eyes mere centimetres away from his face.
Instead of taking to the air, the hunter had concealed himself within a pool of his own blood, even receiving the brunt of Galahad's light without flinching. He had completely fooled him – because Nimrod had shown himself able of jumping to such heights, Galahad had not questioned for a second that the shadow in the sky had to be him.
The bait had worked to perfection; by the time Galahad reacted it was too late.
The hunter lunged his arm towards him. In truth however, said limb had been cut lengthwise by Galahad, and so it looked closer to two antennas sticking out of his shoulder. Even so the two halves willed themselves into motion and put their iron grip around Galahad's leg. The Saber was yanked into the air but not released – less than a second later, his back made contact with the ground again, when Nimrod slammed him down ruthelessly.
The hunter did not stop at one time either: he lifted up his prey to once again test his resistance against the earth, over and over relentlessly. And the brute force he displayed only went crescendo, each crash leaving a larger dent in the soil. When he made his last and most fierce swing, the flatland looked as though it had been struck by a meteor. Only then did the ashen giant finally let go, tossing his catch upward like a child would a branch he had picked up.
By that point, Galahad's ears were filled with a echoing buzz, while he could barely feel the back of his head. In spite of that his mind was still keen; even when thrown like a pebble, he saw Nimrod below.
The Avenger's injuries were healing and he bent his legs before taking a leap, for real this time.
There was no need to guess his destination – Galahad made sure his fighting ability had remained unscathed after the rough treatment he had received, and he readied his blade.
"Lick your own wounds all you will, I shall not acknowledge you."
The ashen giant was approaching with sheer momentum. When at last he rammed into the falling knight, it was a mutual blow for the two of them. Nimrod gathered his might into a single point like a spearhead; the edge of his blade struck home, piercing through Galahad's armour and into his side. In exchange for the monumental blow taken, Galahad had stabbed the entire length of his blade into the hunter's abdomen.
But though their injuries looked similar, one suffered more than the other. When they began to fall together, the knight gritted his teeth and squeezed the handle of his sword as to not let go. Before they could land, Nimrod grabbed his whole head inside his palm and flung him wildly into the earth.
"Your proclaim yourself one who guides wishes, but you have abandoned that right. You need not exist." Nimrod absorbed the fall without wincing, towering above the Saber who had been made to sprawl. "I am the keeper of oath – the hand guiding Mankind, to ensure that humans will reap the reward of their own actions. By turning their back on us and Migdal Bavel, they have made their choice. And so I shall ensure that my oath is fulfilled."
Galahad got up on his feet, but his posture was shaky.
The hunter raised his weapon to give the lie to his tenacity. Since guarding would be terribly less efficient in his current situation, at the last moment Galahad resorted to striking back. The two blades clashed with full force, leaving another mark among many on the ground. Galahad was met with the full realization that he would not be able to simply endure for much longer. The blame was on the wound he had just sustained – normally he would ignore it as if it weren't there, but against Nimrod's overwhelming power the difference was clear as day.
Nonetheless, he held on and repelled the dark bow.
But what of the next exchange?
Nimrod lost no time before returning with the same virulence. When their blades crossed paths again, the previous balance was inexistent and Galahad was immediately pushed back. It would only take the slightest push to break his guard entirely; his resistance had turned into a struggle.
But...
'This is my life – I plan on living it fully, whether they like it or not!'
But there was one part of him that could never yield.
"...I never had to guide anything." His grip around his sword tightened. Even in this hour of crisis, somehow, the corners of his mouth curled up faintly. "I took a vow... no... I made a promise... to a friend."
Despite being almost thrown off balance, the Saber of Red gradually managed to shift into a posture where he could make the best of his defenses. And that included pushing Nimrod's blade away, bit by bit. Even as the ashen giant was pressing on him with all his weight and fearsome aura, Galahad did not give in.
Eventually, the two blades separated – but not because Nimrod had been pushed back.
On the contrary, the latter had willfully retrieved his weapon only to brandish it again for a third blow that would trump all the others in violence. Galahad watched knowing that it would be another ordeal, yet still he offered the same indomitable look.
With his sword and shield raised, he waited for it regardless of the outcome.
When the hunter brought his weapon down on the knight, the air around him shook before the clash. The knight moved to meet his challenge, knowing full well that his chances were unlikely.
Holy sword and scornwrought bow let out a clangorous cry upon facing each other again... but theirs was not the only one.
"This is not only his battle!"
"...!"
Against the ashen giant's weapon stood not only Galahad's blade, but also a spear wielded by the Valkyria who had jumped in. Brynhildr stood by Galahad's side, bearing the burden of Nimrod's attack with him. From how she screwed up her face and bit her lip, she was evidently in no better state than him, yet still she held back nothing to fend off the dusk king. And she had not come alone – arrows whistled through the air and came crashing into the hunter's arm with the force of miniature tornadoes; a chain wrapped around Nimrod's arm and shoulder to pull him back.
"We have all chosen to fight." Odysseus said. "It would hard calling ourselves Heroic Spirit if Saber were to stand for all of us. Although, even together I would not call our chances heartening."
"It is hopeless, yes." Next to him Ashurbanipal clicked her tongue. "If you have no wisdom more insightful to share with us, I bid you keep the obvious for yourself."
With all four Servants joining their forces again, Nimrod was not able to crush Galahad, his blade hindered in every way possible. It wasn't enough to inspire a feeling of victory in them yet: Galahad stepped forward and slipped past the dusk king's weapon, to deliver a blow before they could lose the tiny advantage they had gained. Odysseus as well readied more wind-enhanced arrows, with the hunter's head as a target.
Unfortunately, even in their haste they did not manage to act before his fury.
A low rumble filled the plain up to the heavens, akin to the unrest of deep earth in times of cataclysm. But it suddenly occured to Galahad and the others that this was in truth a growl coming from none other than Nimrod. They barely had the time to worry about it that the Avenger's counterattack exploded. Quite literally, a tremendous shockwave suddenly erupted with Nimrod at the epicentre
The flatland around him heaved up and debris flew every which way. The Servants who had him surrounded were pushed away, swallowed in a cloud of dirt and dust.
If his vision was obscured however, Galahad's instinct warned him – he hid behind his shield.
The very next moment, he was struck with full force by the dusk king's charge. He couldn't tell if he had been hit with a weapon or his bare hands; the collision was such that Galahad's shield was shoved into his face and he was propelled out of the agitated dust. When finally he returned to the ground hundreds of metres away, he landed on his feet but had to support himself with his sword.
Wincing, he gazed in the direction he had come from: a figure emerged from the havoc.
It was still the King of Tyrants in all his grimness, except that his presence had become even more staggering.
Were those lumps of black dirt flying about him, or had his aura become tangible? Regardless, it now seemed to coat him; Galahad could swear he saw horns like an ox's emerging from the dusk king's silhouette.
"Enough. I will correct your wretched existence for good." His piercing gaze had not let go of the knight. "There are others in this Tower I must relieve of their miserable lives."
"We shall not allow you anywhere near them." As Nimrod meant to step towards Galahad, Ashurbanipal appeared and fired a volley of golden threads. "The stars will fall and the earth rot with before you lay a hand on him!"
"Do you remember the stars, human?"
The ashen giant swung his fist; the air twisted and a gust of destruction ran through the plain, swallowing the many projectiles. Seeing the failure of her intervention the king nonetheless pulled out her sword and resolved to face him. She had barely made that plan that it was ruined however: before she could stand in the hunter's path, Nimrod breathed in and let out a chilling roar.
Though she had been touched by nothing, Ashurbanipal's body shook and lost its strength.
Her legs failed her, and she just about managed to keep herself from collapsing. Stabbing her blade in the ground, she looked at her arm where black lines were spreading along her veins. The poison of Nimrod, infused into her by the many wounds she had sustained, was making a feast of her insides.
"Curse you..." The strength to stand up didn't come to her; on the contrary, she sunk closer to the ground. "If your design comes to fruition, Avenger... I curse you...!"
But he paid her no heed.
The King of Tyrant didn't waste his time finishing her off. Instead, he got down on all four and, like a beast, he shot forward with all his might. But there was another who would rather end his charge of devastation before it reached Galahad: when he saw Ashurbanipal collapse, Odysseus felt the scales were tipping dangerously, to a point of no return. Keeping track of the hunter who raised a storm with mere propulsion, he materialized two arrows; long and of the colour of cinder, with the heads carved like drills.
"Normal arrows will not even faze him. We must play all our cards." He nocked one of them and aimed high. "Telemachus: Arrow of the Twelve Axe-Heads!"
As an arrow of destiny that struck his opponents from the inside, his Noble Phantasm ought to hurt Nimrod like any other Servant. In prevision of the hunter's persistence however, he knew one would not suffice. And so another Telemachus was fired in quick succession to the first, and the two arrows danced in the dim shroud of the firmament. Soon they had each taken eleven turns and Odysseus aimed his bow at the stampeding giant.
"Telemachus: Reward At Journey's End!"
Both Noble Phantasms disappeared in unisson.
And upon revealing their true nature...
"...What in the...?" Odysseus' eyes opened wide.
Nothing happened.
Telemachus did not activate despite following every steps.
"I see, your fate... nay, the fate of this Tower... is something I could never compare with..." The bowman gritted his teeth as he looked down.
In his chest, two new thorns had grown alongside the one left by Hatsuyo. This was dreadful sight, and the bowman couldn't curse himself enough for his oversight. If he had been more shy and suffered only one failure, he could have worked with that. Unfortunately, there was a steep price to pay once his trump card was defeated thrice. After all, activating Telemachus meant comparing his ability to defy fate with that of his target – if his destiny was denied too many times, it would disappear.
The proof was those thorns.
With three of those, he could no longer rely on Odússeia: Ten Years-Long Struggle for Respite. Which meant he would no longer be able to trick death.
"I have dug our grave deeper instead." He couldn't even laugh at his own misfortune. "Whereas Avenger– ...!"
Even though Telemachus had not worked out, the bowman had still attracted the attention of Nimrod. Or so he had to believe, for although the latter didn't spare him a look, he took the time to reach inside his shadow and hurl a bolt of dark energy. It exploded in the air and turned into a torrent of darts homing in on the weakened Odysseus.
In the end, nothing could halt the King of Tyrants.
Quite the opposite, his charge picked up more and more momentum, the surrounding destruction amplifying in consequence. The power he displayed was such that the plain seemed to bend around him rather than breaking.
Galahad had not moved from his spot; there was nowhere to run to. From the very start, the only option was to fight. Although, watching ashen giant's cataclysmic advance, it was clear that it far surpassed anything he had shown so far.
"..."
"Can he truly be called a Servant or a human anymore...?" Brynhildr had joined him and gazed upon the oncoming ruin with apprehension.
The Valkyria knew she did not have the strength to succeed where her two companions had failed. And so, she chose to weather all the furor this world had to offer alongside the knight. That was a resolve that Galahad would have honoured, in normal circumstances. However, before the storm hit them, an instinct deep within forewarned him. More than a hunch, it was a glimpse of the future – he could see the devastation that awaited them, and the Valkyria by his side reduced to nothing by it.
And so, he took action.
"Saber...?!"
Brynhildr was thrown into confusion but there was no time to explain. Galahad had turned to her and shoved her away with all he could muster. As far away as possible. She had expected none of that and thus the task was easy. In the middle of being pushed out of Nimrod's path realization struck her, but it was too late – the knight could neither seize her hand nor hear what she screamed.
"Do you remember what we looked up to?"
"...To stand against the most cruel blade..." Galahad put away his sword and held his shield with both arms. "Shine! Lord Arimathea: Unbreacheable Wall of Duty!"
The light burst out of him and extended through his aegis, projecting a barrier of pure white.
It arose just in time to be tested: the tempest known as Nimrod was upon him.
An unstoppable charge willed by all the scorn and outrage that dwelled in the kingdom of ashes.
Against a stalwart shield cemented by the hope and determination of the one holding it.
Lord Arimathea was infallible as long as the heart behind it remained strong. And Galahad's resolve would never be more roused than in this moment, without a blemish of a doubt in him. And so the wall between him and the dust king was infrangible – or so it should have been.
But in this land where light had been robbed, it was not such an absolute truth.
In the stomach of a hope-devouring beast, it was not meant to be.
The light that made up Galahad's line of defense could not even properly cluster, proscribed from making a sturdy fortification. And so it went according to the scenario of this world – the shield of light broke apart and the King of Tyrant made it through.
Upon impact, Galahad's mind went blank for a moment.
All he felt for sure was the sensation of being struck everywhere at once, as well as being hurled away like a canonball. Everything else was a vague and obtuse wave of feelings that did not make it to his brain.
"Do you remember the stars? The territory forbidden to Mankind, the goal we sought and tried to seize for ourselves?"
His arms and legs were numbed too, reeling from all the fights he had waged.
Whether it was an appeal to rest or to abandon, the knight didn't understand this feeling.
"I will show you."
That was why, when the first shred of consciousness returned to him, Galahad felt the urge to open his eyes and see. And he discovered a silver field on the firmament – a breathtaking river of stars glowing on the backdrop of a black canvas. The dimmed sky above the black plain had been chased off, revealing the closely guarded treasure beyond.
However, it seemed to Galahad that the light cast by those stars was cold. As such, he couldn't understand their beauty nor why they had been hidden here to begin with. But he also realized how close that sky was; and since he wasn't the one soaring up, it meant the heavenly fields of night were collapsing.
Yes... it was bending under the weight of something...
And when it reached its limit, a single drop of heavens detached itself.
"...!"
When it fell down on him, Galahad received the greatest blow he had ever felt. This was not just a display of Nimrod's power – a part of Migdal Bavel itself had a hand in this attack, and it seemed to carry the weight of an entire world as it crushed the knight.
It was a magnitude comparable, no, even higher than the full might of Caligula.
And so, the result was very much the same.
Ckr!
Ckr!
Galahad's body had already been turned into a strange spectacle by the mad emperor. And now, under the weight of the dusk king's hand, the cracks spread over his skin became longer and more numerous. So many there were, and so deep they ran that it looked as though he would fall into pieces at any given moment.
He felt it deep within his soul; as a result, his mind was jolted out of the numbness that afflicted it.
The knight opened his eyes again and moved. He was lying down on the devastated flatland and, though the sky above was still starlit, it was not falling on their heads. But what of himself then? When he tried to stand up, the effort made his whole body quiver. The damage was more extensive than he could fathom. Even when he successfully staggered back to his feet, his figure was a pitiful one. His hands were still clamped around his armaments, but it looked like a frail grip that would not bear strife.
All of his companions across the plain saw and understood how close to the line he was.
And that went for the Lord of Babel as well.
"Begone now." Nimrod stood not far from Galahad. "Be rent and scattered for your blindness! Migdal Bavel: Stairway to Heavens!"
A rumble echoed.
Galahad raised his arms feebly.
Was it to fight, or was it his last paltry defense?
He could not prevent what was about to happen.
"...Leo..."
At Nimrod's call, a black pike emerged from the earth at the knights feet and shot towards him.
Galahad saw it coming, helpless. As he gazed into its glintless surface, he knew.
The pike claimed a victim, gouging his chest and impaling him.
As it kept rising from the ground, it lifted him higher, higher until he could be seen by all.
Then, more pikes emerged from it, and from those branches more barbs grew. They split up in such a way that the resulting sculpture was that of a dry, ashen tree. And the one caught in its merciless grasp was torn into pieces. His armour was fractured, and his body butchered into shreds of flesh and splinters of bones. His whole upper body was undone in such a fashion that one could hardly recognize a human being anymore.
All presents watched with more shock than horror.
Odysseus, Brynhildr and Ashurbanipal who stood powerless.
Ewald and Hatsuyo who had struggled to survive the turmoil of this battlefield, and who now discovered what had happened behind their back.
Sitting dumbfounded on the floor, Galahad too was looking up at the man who had shoved him away to take his place.
And last but not least, there was Nimrod – the master of this realm, who looked upon his own doing with stupefaction painted all over his face. If only for a moment, the flames of his eyes died down and returned to cold embers.
"What... is the meaning of this...?" His mouth trembled, not knowing what shape to take on. In the end though, it turned into a baleful grimace. "Why would you do such a thing?!"
In the tree's branches, the scattered flesh and bones wriggled.
Gradually, they returned to each other and began restoring the shape they once had.
Even the fragments of golden armour picked themselves off the ground and were pieced back together.
* Wolf's Rain – Heaven's Not Enough
From the skeleton tree where his body had reformed, Joktan jumped down and landed lightly. He threw a fleeting glance at Galahad whose eyes didn't leave his unexpected saviour. It was hard to call a half-shattered human 'fine'. Still, there were many faces here whom the vampire had not expected to see ever again.
But he could not satisfy their bewildered curiosity.
Despite his remarkable entrance, he had not come here for them.
"..." He took a few steps away from the tree which faded into thousands of pieces. At long last, his eyes faced his sworn brother.
"Why...?"
Nimrod's expression was twisted into something frightening. But beyond that mask, it was only confusion. A genuine, helpless attempt at understanding what had taken place before his very eyes. Scrutinizing the vampire's face brought no answer, or at least none that he could fathom: the same question repeated itself over and over. Even without words Joktan could hear it.
He shared his pain, if only for a moment.
Eventually though, he clenched his fist and heaved a frail sigh:
"Let us stop all of this, Nimrod." He told his dumbfounded friend. "Quell your wrath, I beseech you! Let us extinguish burning hearts and not cause more harm than we already have."
"..."
The ashen giant was speechless. Yet the emotion overwhelming him couldn't be more obvious: absolute rejection. His head moved slowly from side to side, motioning the denial that hadn't quite manifested on his face. Yes, denial, for he seemed as though he were watching a feverish dream.
With little respect for his consternation or for Joktan's solemnity, a newcomer made a ruckus.
"Why did you go so much faster than me, Jok?!" Like a fresh bud, Phenech's head popped out of the soil followed by the rest of his body. He shook the dirt off his body of dirt and waved off Galahad who was still sitting there. "Hey there, I've never seen you in my entire life but you might wanna move a little. We're having a reunion here."
Galahad closed his mouth at long last and obliged. He didn't stop staring at the newly arrived pair all the while, but he stood up and stepped back laboriously. The dust king nodded to himself and turned his attention to the situation in front of him.
"Ah, you're there Nim! I wish it were a surprise but..." His voice trailed off, only to resurface the next moment. "How chilling. I can't see your face but the rest of you has become quite ghastly. But it really is you, isn't it?"
"The two of you... why..."
"Since Joktan got here first, I'm sure he already informed you." The dust king crossed his arms. "It's sad that we've got so little time for rejoicing. But there you have it, Nim: how about we bury the sword and pretend all of this never happened? Doesn't that sound less tiring than revenge?"
But the King of Tyrant was entirely unamused by his jesting tone. Having both of his friends show up unannounced was already enough of a surprise, so accepting that these words came from their mouths was an additional hurdle.
But no longer – his distraught dissipated, leaving naught but a reverved, undecipherable look.
"I understand your pain, my friend." Joktan said. "But I beg of you, stay your hand! Do not give in to resentment, lest you commit that which can never be taken back!"
"... ... ... ...After so many years, we are finally granted the chance to make things right... and you believe me afraid of so little?" A deep growl. "Look at me. Do you see anything that can be taken back? Look at yourselves. For so long, we have bled from an irreparable mistaken. Why then would I fear to inflict the same on them?"
"That is wrong!" The storm king shouted, with such vigor that even Nimrod was taken aback. But regardless the intensity of his words, Joktan's eyes expressed only sorrow. "Greatly have we suffered, I cannot deny it. An agony such that none should ever experience. Somehow it was not the end of us, yet we are not more wise or insightful for it. These five thousand years have made us stray, forget and hate blindly. But to let those feelings hammer the last nail would be an even greater tragedy!"
"..."
"I understand your agony. I have lived through it, albeit differently. And yet I must beg you again: do not betray yourself, Nimrod. Please... do not punish those who haven't wronged us..."
"'Haven't wronged us'...?" The dusk king spat out.
"Aye. It is infuriating, I know. A cruel, unfair tale. But it was our decision." Joktan's expression hardened. "We three decided to create a miracle against all odds. We showed Mankind a different future, one of hope and boundless possibilities. We endeavored, we kept the faith and truly set a path to that future. It was for naught, in the end... but those are the consequences of the choices we made. It was our dream to guide them, to obtain everything we could imagine and more. Our foolish, precious dream... that it did not come true is none of their fault. This burden is ours to carry!"
"..."
"Too many times, I have wondered about the meaning of it all. Deprived of the past and of a place to be, I asked myself what purpose there could be to this unending life. Since arriving here, that question only became more inscrutable. Why was I alone made to walk and see every sunrise for five thousand years, whereas you were made to spend that time in darkness? I had nothing, not even an answer to what tormented me so..."
Joktan turned to look at Phenech, who stood by quietly with what could only have been a somber expression. He most likely already knew what the storm king had to say, or else he might not have followed him. But Joktan could not seek resolve in someone else; this was the answer he had found for himself.
And so...
"I have seen many things. Every stretch of land, every sight of this star. Animals that walk, swim or fly. An everchanging world where I cannot trace my steps and find the same scenery twice, for I do not measure time like others do. But most of all, I saw people." He gazed up, at the starlit sky missing from his memories. "Sometimes, I tried to dwell among them. When the reality of our differences became too much, I watched them from a distance. I saw them live, I heard them sing, I witnessed what they built and what they taught. There was conflict too of course... I saw them fight, bicker over earthly and immaterial possessions..."
Once, he had served as an advisor in a king's court.
Once, he had lived near a cold region tribe and served as an invisible guardian.
Once, he had watched in dismay as two countries destroyed each other.
Once, he had given up on his humanity and lived as a feral creature.
Once... once...
He had experienced many lifetimes. Always his monstrous nature had caught up to him, as if to tell him he was no meant to be among humans. And little by little, his memory had frayed at the edges, before crumbling at the seams. He had lost bits and pieces of Joktan, gradually distancing himself from humans entirely.
Even so, he could not deny these memories anymore.
On Phenech's invitation, he had visited them again. He had remembered, not as mere facts and traces – he remembered being there, the faces he had met, voices and names that existed no more. He had returned to those bygone moments, to the days where he would watch these peoples and their lives. Knowing full well that they would be swept away in the tide of time, while he would remain.
He had seen the best and the worst within the same life.
"Now I know." Joktan looked into the eyes of the ashen giant. "I finally understand the meaning of my eternity. If it was written that we would one day return to Migdal Bavel, that you would become an executor for our brethren, then my role is clear – I am Humanity's judge."
His declaration attracted an array of reaction from all present, not least of all Nimrod who wavered between bitterness and incomprehension.
"Since the fall of our Tower, I have watched humans. I watched how they lived and where their path led them, to see if they were worthy of what they have left behind. I was kept in the night so as to not steer their future myself. The world has turned, nothing is quite as we remember; but I saw all of it. I endured against all reason, so that one day I could meet you here again. To be their witness."
Joktan raised his arm towards Nimrod.
"And so, I declare – Humanity has never abandoned us."
"...!"
"They are imperfect, that is true. They are not united as we were, nor have they been able to combine their strength. Yet through curiosity and ambition, they have achieved marvel upon marvel. Not by the generosity of a higher force, but with their own ability. Humans never stopped marching on. They still turn their eyes heavensward with dreams of what they can accomplish. The determination we shared long ago still beats in their heart, strong and plentiful!"
"Can't say I disagree." Phenech chuckled. "I got to meet the people of this era. I know for a fact that humans haven't really changed; they're still the wily, hopeful bunch we stood side by side with. So in the end, we're the ones who can't take a hint! We built Migdal Bavel but it wasn't enough. Humanity saw that and moved on. Can't tell for sure what sort of future our methods would have created. But instead of sticking to what didn't work, humans went their own way and found a different path. And we three, I guess we're has-been! Heheheheh... ... ...looks like they didn't need our help. They can carry on without us – our dream never died, Nimrod."
"Hence, we come to seek you." Joktan's expression softened. "And we ask you not to hurt them, for they are our brothers and sisters."
"..."
The two Lords of Babel said no more. After making ample explanation of their point of view, they left the field open for an answer. Joktan would beg as many times as he had to, if it could settle this matter in peace. And so, without losing hope he fell silent. Nimrod also kept quiet. He stared back at them with just as much intensity as they were.
"..." Eventually, he looked around him at those gathered in his realm – no, at this world itself. "... ...I am truly alone then. I see now that I have no brothers."
"...!"
"...!"
A sinister aura swelled up and wrapped around the King of Tyrants. Baring his fangs he twisted his face into a deep grimace; two red flames burned anew in his glare.
"How can you hold this era on the same level as what we cherished? How is this worth the future we envisioned?! In five thousand years, they have barely achieved what we could have in so little time!" His large arms spread out, his hands held high in yearning of the stars above. "A burden only for the three of us? What then of the mighty tree we raised?! What of our Migdal Bavel, torn apart and killed in the womb?! What of the endless stream of wishes, the many voices screaming for a tomorrow...? The voices unheard, betrayed and left to rot for ages...?!"
His eyes returned to the ground, to the ones who shared his title and his past. But those things meant nothing anymore; Joktan understood when their gazes met.
"Nothing we can say will change your mind..." The storm king lowered his hand with grief.
"That's more or less what we expected, since this is you we're talking about." Phenech hanged his head, only to lift it up a second later. "That means we didn't come here only to talk. Ain't that right, Jok?"
"...Aye." He took a deep breath. "Let there be no turning back then."
Both of them moved at once: together, they raised an arm towards their old friend. But it was not a sign of invitation anymore. It was a gesture of defiance, an act of assertion against those who could no longer be welcomed proudly.
"We stand against your judgdment." Joktan declared. "If your song be one disaster, we shall rise with sorrow but resolve. We will protect our dream, as we should have done long ago."
"Even from you." A spear materialized out of thin air in Phenech's hand, while Joktan brandished his sword. "Let not the echoes of words fade and the dust settle. A tomb is pointless for us who must disappear – let there be no silence."
"Let not the length of the journey fool your senses. Wandering along a neverending path is of no use if we will not turn back to learn – let there be no eons."
"Hm?"
Nimrod was taken off-guard. While he had surely been expecting this outcome, instead of fighting him his fellow Lords of Babel began chanting an incantation. The purpose of which only became clear once the the entire flatland shook violently. This was not the hunter's doing, even though he should be the sole master of the place. But his authority was what allowed him to identify the threat:
"You... would desecrate this place?" He growled. "You're invading my kingdom with yours!"
"Nothing less will prove our resolve to you. Henceforth, we are not afraid to discard our titles and essence." Joktan replied firmly. "We are not your only enemies, after all."
"They're also out there, fighting for their future. As they should!" Phenech added. "If it were just we three duking it out, that would be quite unfair to them, don't you think? Not to mention... they don't need to be here anymore."
"You backhanded traitors...!" Nimrod gnawed his teeth, but it was too late to stop them.
In term of influence over the Tower, Nimrod had rights to roughly 50% of it. As such, challenging his territory would be a losing battle for either Joktan or Phenech. But if it was together, then their power became equal; this was a joint effort to erase the limits, a reunion of all realms within Migdal Bavel.
What this entailed was quite literal: the land of ashes was split apart.
Something burst through the surface of the plain. It was a flying mass of stone, carrying a mix of greenery and ruins. It wasn't the only one either: in many places around them, floating islands from Joktan's domain tresspassed into this dim world, bringing colours to it. The earth collapsed across the flatland, creating a gaping wound through which light seeped in.
In less time than one would have imagined, Nimrod's own kindom had turned into a bunch of flying patches.
If one peered over the edge, they would see a great expanse of empty space, filled only with the occasional piece of rising land. But much further down, they would see a different type of scenery coming up. It was not only dusty corridors that hadn't seen light in forever; at the very bottom, a dash of green stood out noticeably. Shortening the immensity of the kingdom of eternity, the Garden was ascending towards the stars.
But for Nimrod, the matter at hand was still up there, on the fragment of land where they stood.
"Our vow is what led us down this path." Joktan said. "So let us fulfill it, one last time."
Next to him, the Phenech nodded and brandished his spear.
"Never fear – we shall not allow harm to come unto them."
He was imitated by Joktan.
"Never forget – we shall not let the mistakes of the past lead us to ruin."
Nimrod clenched his teeth with the looks of a wild demon.
"Never stray... but all have strayed.
My soul alone has never forsaken our cause.
For those who broke their oath, let them be expunged from the surface of this star!"
Thank you for reading.
Welp, it's time we step into the final beat of the Babel arc. I can't afford to look back with each chapter on how far we've come. But there's still a distance to go, so I hope you will cross it with me.
In slightly unrelated news, Rongodamiant has become so stupidly long that, starting from this chapter, we've overtaken even Fragments of Chaldea in length. That's right, this is the longest Fate fanfiction on this website! And unless someone out there has lost their mind more than me, Rongodamiant might be the longest Fate fanfic on the whole internet.
What a time to be alive.
~Legends Storyteller