Chapter 24
From the many numerous stone tiles stretched out almost endlessly before them in a sea of white grey, one of the slabs groaned, heaved, then was mercilessly thrown aside. About two hundred men with grim and hardened faces methodically swarmed up and in moments had circled the small group around the Dais. In silent synchronization, they leveled their guns at the same time, nozzles aimed at the half crouched and half sitting figure of Rudy.
"Fools!" Illumi spat harshly noticing that each men had on their belts a small black machine emitting something akin to his Void. "You think this alone will be enough to defeat me? Then fall, back into the ravines and foul dungeons that spawned you."
In a split second, there were eight of him, each dressed in their glorious, rich black robes, with their hair tied up and a strange weapon in their hands. It was about eight foot long, dark, ebony black, slender but blunt, carved and etched with numerous runes. The weapon, though very unthreatening, sent chills of fear for its very darkness absorbed the very light given off by the illuminators around it. Laughing with exhilaration and armed, each double fanned out in all directions at unbelievable speed towards the rebels like a black tornado of death rushing out to meet its victims, a taste and savouring of delight on the tip of its tongue, an endless and almost indescribable joy in its eyes.
Zeno felt his stomach churn and knot in fear and sickness as the nen that usually flowed calmly about their feet was seized into a frenzied dance of bloodlust and killing following the strange, harsh sound which escaped Illumi's lips. The nen's usually smooth and placid texture became painful, randomly exploding in some places or violently crashing into each other before being sucked into a whirlpool of rage, reflecting the discord in Illumi's song. His voice was like that of a fallen Siren – destroying the fabric of illusion and twisting it into a hideous nightmare around them. And the unseeable chaos all around the rebels translated into fear, a type of fear so overwhelming that their minds had never registered before. Gravity was no longer a law of the universe – their sense of balance became as fickle as the constancy of the nen around them and the weaker ones had already been swept away by the tide, plucked from the ground like the golden maple leaves in autumn high, high into the air as they were caught in the vortex of nen, then flung with such vicious force back onto the ground without warning. Their bodies instantly broke and crumpled in the way one would imagine a child discarding a doll they no longer cared for. The song was steadily reaching its climax, in terms of volume and intensity. Even his voice had become a sound that was unearthly. The eight voices sang their own unique and awful tune, some high, some low, some screaming a sound that was unidentifiable and grated harshly against their eardrums. In response, the nen built itself into a violent and frenzied tidal wave behind Illumi, mounting higher and higher and like the tension in a bow string, it was only waiting to be released. If Rudy concentrated hard enough, she thought she could see people riding abreast the waves, clamouring their swords against their shields, and some shouting warcries in tongues she had never heard before. More and more they gathered, their anger collected and concentrated by the ungodly dreadful song that shaped their will and honed their rage into one massive assault. Suddenly, there was the ear splitting sound of a horse's neigh which rang like a thousand trumpets across the courtyard, and the tidal wave of nen noislessly broke through its invisible restraints and barriers. The sheer might and force of all the nen accumulated through the centuries smashed against the rebels, but they clung to each other and held their positions steady. Their small, translucent sphere of Void draped around them rapidly dimmed against the mighty onslaught, the small black machines strapped to their waist draining the batteries like crazy to deal with something of that monumental scale, and in moments, the contraptions cackled and sparked electricity before dying out.
And like an unnatural, loathsome black plague, Illumi continued to weave and dance his way almost bewitchingly elegantly through the men in ghostly silence, his weapon falling up and down. Anyone touched by the black rod emitted the most agonizing scream. Alive they fell, twitching on the marble granite ground in what seemed to be a pain so terrible the mortal mind could not fathom. Some men were reduced to sobs with their hands digging in so hard into their scalps that blood poured down their hands and arms in streams. Others beat their heads against the ground, again and again, the thudding becoming an almost eerily hypnotic sound. Echlan felt its touch for the slightest moment and clamped his hand over his mouth to produce a scream that would throw his sanity away. The look in those mens eyes – they were all of those with no hope left in them, the type of men who looked upon the world with nothing to support them against the crushingly brutal reality, and one without hope lived in utter despair.
"Illumi is the Dark Executioner." Renard murmured sickly for his words contained neither delight nor praise. They were not the bright words of victory nor were there elements of triumph or joy in his voice. The horrible weapon in Illumi's hand was the agglomeration and gathering of despair that the boy had suffered all his life.
Oh the Despair! The Dark Executioner shall deal despair and they will fall.
The last of the prophecy was unraveling before his very eyes – he watched an assassin, born to the word of isolation and solitude, knowing nothing of love or laughter, life or its warmth, living only to take life away – it was the painful life of despair. And it was his greatest weapon for it was the emotion most well known to Illumi. He had lived with it for twenty years, and what didn't kill him would only hurt him and make him stronger. He materialized his concentration of despair from his heart into what they saw to be the elegantly crafted eight foot staff. With its merest touch, the rebels were robbed of their hope, mercilessly ripped out of them regardless of how they struggled to hold onto the pillar of will for existence. With this pillar shattered, they saw no future for themselves – their minds deceived them with images of failure and consequences so dreadful that they banged their heads on the ground in a vain attempt to rid their minds of these images. Even as their skulls fractured and blood poured into their eyes and blinded them, they continued to mutilate themselves, seized by the urge to rid themselves of their hopeless visions. Not long, the rebels turned their guns on themselves, dejectedly biting the barrel then pulling the trigger. Others clawing at their heads and rolling around kicking and screaming were put out of their misery by the stronger rebels still standing, just barely.
About twenty men were left, huddled together around Liam, shaking and shivering, wondering why on earth of all places they were standing they had to be in front of the most powerful natural nen use of all eons.
"Hmm…" Illumi hummed slightly to himself as the eight other apparitions of himself vanished, no longer needed in the sea of dead and crumpled men. "Roughly twenty still standing. I'll congratulate you on that, but no, that still doesn't mean you live. Instead, I'll grant you a quick, painless death instead. That is the least I could do for an enemy well fought." This phrase was said with the casualty of a man who was about to finish his day's work and pack up. There was a resigned look in his eyes, of one bored and carrying out some routine instruction. To the men about to die, they were nothing but mere a inconvenience to him.
The runes on his weapon shimmered with amazing colours and his grip on the staff shifted. His right hand trailed towards one end of the staff and gripped it tight. Then with a twist, he gradually pulled the staff apart, unsheathing a brilliant blade of pure energy about seven feet long, slightly curved at the tip. Just how many men could you impale on such a long blade at one go?
Renard sucked in his breath at the sheer beauty of the weapon in Illumi's hands. He had no doubts that the edge could cut through anything – and that meant anything. The blade pulsed with its own soft light, like a beating heart, a living thing that dealt out quick and devastating destruction. With this sword, Jordan had conquered the Wardien dynasty. And with the same sword, Illumi was defeat the rebels and preserve the Kalinnan dynasty.
With a slight hiss, the blade sprang free from its sheath and Illumi allowed a brief moment for everyone to observe it with awe and wonder. A small, gentle smile bloomed on his lips and he gifted it to his enemies.
"I will send you back into the cycles of death and rebirth. Repent now so that you may be reborn as a human in your next lifetime, or spend the rest of eternity suffering in the infernos of hell." He uttered, then calmly, step by step, he advanced.
Liam was petrified when he saw Illumi. He had spent enough of his younger years in the Forbidden Palace to be familiar with old fashions and customs. The man he saw in front of him looked like he had just stepped out of the textbooks, dressed from head to toe in a style that had not been fashionable for at least six hundred years already. Yet he was an somberly handsome character, his long hair partly tied up, his dark robes gracefully titling with his movements, the gold embroidery against the very black material starkly sparkling and his pale face, so familiar, so, so painfully familiar.
Even as death on two legs approached him a step at a time, he was unafraid. He felt only a warmth of recognition and welcome. To the outrage and objection of his men, he surged forward, broke free of the crowd and ran forward, only to stop just three meters away from the person who would take his life away.
"Kim?" his voice was thick with emotion.
Illumi shook his head. "You speak of my aunt. I hear she passed away some fourteen years ago."
"Your…your aunt?"
"They say I look quite alike her – at least Karen-chan thinks so."
"You are not Kim then?"
"I'm her nephew. Only a recent discovery really. Should I address you as my uncle in-law?"
"Nephew?"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but Aunt Kim also thought it would be amusing when you finally found out. In truth, I was hired by General Kamus Kalinnan Kastro to lure you out. Did a pretty good job huh?"
Liam started to feel reality hit him like a ton of bricks. His poor mind was wheezing to catch up with the thought process.
"Hold on a minute here. You are a man and YOU won the beauty contest?"
"Well," Illumi lowered his weapon and looked slightly apologetic "I have done quite a lot of questionable things apart from assassinations for money. Winning the contest wasn't hard, especially since I've apparently got the perfect Arcadian Princess features."
"I missed out on your final Court Dance that night," Liam said softly. "I don't suppose there's a chance I'll ever see it performed ever again?"
The blade's bright light almost blinded him, despite Liam wearing his shades. Illumi sighed a bit and hefted the weapon his hands, brining the sword up to Liam's neck, the blade biting delicately into the broken man's neck. Beads of blood blossomed. The truth had dealt him as much despair as he ever could with is weapon. "Unfortunately so – it was nice to have this conversation with you uncle Liam, but you have to die now. For Rudy of course."
Illumi only needed to give a slight nudge to the handle and he would have decapitated the world weary and fatigued blonde haired main in front of him. However, fingers akin to steel clamps locked around his right wrist, and a harsh and distinctive "no" penetrated his thoughts. Vaguely tilting his head to his right, he found the Emperor, with her ghostly grey and pale face straining with effort beside him, her trembling fingers latched onto his writs like steel claws. Blood was smeared down the front of her goldern robes, now dried and a dirty, dark brown. Traces of blood was still smudged on her face and her eyes were so sunken that she looked like a living nightmare.
"I will handle this." She tried to say as firmly as possible but what came out was naught but a steady whisper, almost caught and carried away by the stiff breeze. The only life in her were possibly her slightly fever hazed eyes, tingling with hints of madness or just naked determination.
Illumi never knew how crucial this moment was. In that time, he could have defied her will, eliminated the traitors and established himself as King of Arcadia. By rights – he was a man, and he was more powerful than Rudy could ever hope to be. In that instant, he could have changed and altered the entire course of Arcadia's future, all in the struggle of will between him and the Emperor that he did not even notice.
Perhaps there had been a highly strung moment in which he looked like he hesitated. But after that moment, he sheathed his sword and bowed exceedingly low.
"Yes sire." He affirmed. He extended one fragile looking slim hand to the Emperor, but she waved it away and tried to stand on her own. Her gaze was steadfastly fixed on the dirty and tattered blonde man.
"Liam Ustrad Melinkov – are you displeased with me?"
The leader of the rebels coldly regarded the teenager before him and hateful memories burned anew in his mind.
"Yes – yes, I am. You beheaded an entire nation's people, and you butchered the last royal family to secure your seat. I have seen enough corrupt and decrepit Emperors in my life time to know that Arcadia cannot live to see another day with you at its head. If you do not kill me now, you will regret that for life."
Rudy faltered slightly before she spoke. "You wouldn't by any chance have participated in the festivities all around you?"
"I can't say that I have. We were busy plotting your demise." Liam's voice grew steadily harsher. Illumi carefully watched his hands and his hand hovered very near his sword handle.
Rudy slowly cleared her throat and looked back in authoritative defiance back at Liam – a look befitting her station.
"People are in the streets celebrating. Can't you see the banners flying in the air, the vivid colours around you, sounds of children laughing and kissing the puppies in the dog pens or the spectacular gathering in the Arena or the Auditorium for the finals of the beauty pageant? The people are celebrating – they are happy to lead their own lives. Tomorrow, we were to mourn for the last time for all the dead who paid their blood and lives just so we could see today's sun. Just so we could continue to wave our banners, sell our goods, have lunch with friends Where were you in the country's greatest hour of need?" she looked over at the rest of the men, still huddled in the small group some distance off. Her face settled into a scowl. "Where were you all when towns burned and women and children were forced into institutionalized prostitution? What were you doing when the Capital was under siege and the enemy was only two miles from the Palace? What was going through your mind when your city was blasted to smithereens and all that you ever knew was lost, turned into rubble and dust? What would you have done if you were pitted against an enemy that gave no quarter or mercy?"
"A bloody murderer cannot find words to justify or excuse himself." Liam responded coldly.
"And I have no time to argue with a coward and a traitor." Rudy said severely. "War spares no one niceties. When you charge onto the battlefield, you can't negotiate or plead for peace, let alone your life. It was inescapable and unavoidable – and a real man would get the job done. That's the reality – it's the wall we must scale if we are ever to see our lives continue in its winding path before us. One of us had to do it," her voice trembled "one of us had to kill the enemy so that all that we know can be preserved." A tear trickled down her sunken, bloody cheeks and she visibly struggled to keep the waver from her voice. "One of us had to give the orders to men to die for their country; one of us had to sign the death warrants of ten million men for something called freedom; and one of us had to make sure we would never be invaded again to suffer the bitter consequences. Where were you, so strong and brave, to make these decisions for me? Where were you all to lend me your sword so that I didn't have to do the killing? Where were you to stop me when I sent the children of our enemy to clear the minefields? Where were you to make sure that a girl didn't remain to inherit the throne?
I'll tell you where you were – you deserted your posts and went underground – you didn't rise to the challenge when whole cities were engulfed in flames and it never disturbed you that your countrymen were dying by the hundreds of thousands in concentration camps. You were hiding safe in your secret cabins, plotting away, breathing life into your puny and insignificant ideals. Even before the war ended, you contrived to rob me of my rightful throne and worse still – some of you collaborated with the enemy. If I'm a butcher for protecting my kingdom, what does that make you?"
Liam's eyes suddenly widened and he abruptly turned to his men, some of whom were now attentively listening to the words of their Emperor.
"Cover your ears! This is a trick! She's using her Voice to bewitch you!" he shouted frantically. One of the men who resisted Rudy's words gave Liam a firm nod, and without a moment's delay had his gun trained on Rudy, his finger already applying pressure to the trigger.
And then the rebel's head blew up and his decapitated body collapsed like a felled tree, splurting blood onto the ground. On the rooftop three hundred meters away, Edmond Striker reloaded and took aim of the next rebel who seemed most likely to move. It was time for him to inherit his father's shoes and live and die in the name of the Emperor.
"Striker?!" Liam exclaimed incredulously, seeing the tinkle of the periscopic lens catching the harsh illuminator light. By the time he turned back, Rudy was already directly in front of him, her right hand flickering with a pale nen, her face set in fierce determination.
"Show me your soul." She commanded, and without further warning or a chance for him to put up his hands in defence, she pressed the palm of her hand to where his heart would be.
Liam's inner sanctum was a place of despair, lost hope and utter confusion. He hadn't wanted to surrender such a pathetic soul for a full and naked examination to nobody, not the Emperor, or himself. Rudy quietly gazed at the clashing colours fighting for dominance about her, ugly shades of red, foul yellow and brown. It showed the soul of a man who harboured intentions of suicide, a man who did not really care about his lofty principles or revolutionary ideals.
He was just looking for a way to die, the finally be free from this miserable world, a world without light or hope, an existence without meaning or endurance.
And the source of such depravation? Fourteen years ago, a Princess by the name of Kimone Kalinnan Kastro self immolated, just about here near the Dias, and to Liam, it represented the signal of the end of everything that he had come to believe in. The charismatic and idealistic Kim succumbed to the pressures and practicalities of reality – or so everyone thought so – and in one brave act, defied the world and fate and ended her life before others could do it for her.
Liam didn't have that kind of courage. He felt a need for vengeance against the very institution that killed his love. He felt burning rage in his heart for the blood of the Kalinnan Emperor to flow. But as time wearily trudged along, his feet feeling heavier by the passing day as if iron shackles were clamped around his ankles, his dream of vengeance seemed so, so far away. The newly crowned Emperor Rodimostev II was like a burning sun, and he, only a weak candle flame. It was then he realized that vengeance was not possible.
And deep down, he knew Rudy was right. They left the dirty job of mass executions and routing the enemy to a fourteen year old girl who grew up under the harsh realities of war, lonely and limping in pain, only that they were all too selfish to see it, caught up in their own pitiable tragedies to help. He left children to defend for themselves, and the final product was in part, his fault.
"No – I am who I am, not because of you, but because of necessity." Rudy finally saw Liam in the raging inferno, ringed by roaring geysers of lava and a constantly trembling earth. She tried not to let the his pure rage daunt her. She tried to meet his red blood-shot eyes calmly.
"I will be the dragon the rises above the clouds and the heavens will tremble when I roar. I chose this path the moment I decided to pick up a sword and fight. It became my burden when I urged others around me to fight. The dead will never cease to remind me of my debt to them – that they are dead so that I could live."
"Even Talien, the most rightful prince to the throne?" Liam whispered coldly.
At this moment, the rebel leader caught a glimpse of the age in Rudy's eyes. Her bright and youthful face showed him a girl who should have been in junior high, gossiping with her friends about boys, makeup and clothes. But her eyes had seen enough blood to last ten lifetimes already, and she had opened up herself to hundreds and thousands of souls, wandering into the hearts and minds of dying men, able to study their lives in the space of seconds. And here, she allowed him to penetrate her thoughts and memories, and Liam suddenly felt ashamed. She was willing to show him everything, every memory and thought, without hesitation or guarded suspicion whilst he had been trying to hide his own dark thoughts from everyone, even himself.
"You must sign these, sire." Echlan's steady voice drifted almost ephemerally to Rudy's ears. She had dreaded this ever since they stormed the enemy's capital and planted the Arcadian flag in their soil. She had hoped that with all the matters concerning reconstruction of infrastructure and moving the refugees around the country, that this issue would be buried for another three years at least.
"What are those?" she tried to ask innocently.
"Prince Talien's death warrants, sire." Echlan said without a hint of waver or grief in his voice.
"No Echlan – I will not touch those."
"Sire, Prince Talien requested this himself. Please sign the death warrants."
"He has done nothing wrong during the war. He is a brave and loyal man, to his country and to the Throne. I find no reason to execute him."
Echlan stared severely at her. "You'll find plenty of reason to accept his death. You may shake the earth and heavens, but politics and succession can and will undo you. Can you imagine Arcadia embroiled in a civil war? More people will die – countrymen will fight against their own countrymen. Country sides will burn once again, and the people to suffer will once again be the defenceless civilians. Have you not seen enough of those ghastly images from the Decade long war?"
Rudy cringed at Echlan's words like they were hot burning brands being thrust in her face.
"I don't want to see anymore blood. I thought that after the war, we were supposed to live happily ever after in peaceful harmony. Give me my happy ending god damnit!"
The Master Eunuch slowly knelt down beside his seated Emperor and tightly held her hands in his. "No sire, this is only the real beginning. You won the war, but now you're left with a country – one that must never fall to corruption and decay again. You will spend the rest of your life building all that has been destroyed; you will spend the rest of your life conquering the hearts of your people; you will spend the rest of your life watching Arcadia rise from the ashes like the immortal phoenix, reborn again and soaring to even greater heights. You will spend the rest of your life maintaining peace and harmony – and that is why Prince Talien has asked for his death. So let him fulfil his last act of bravery and loyalty to this country and throne sire, please grant his wish."
"And when he dies, I will be truly alone with no family or relatives – then all questions of inheritance and succession will never be raised, nor will my right be challenged, nor will people go marching off to war on my behalf to maintain it." Rudy uttered mechanically, staring desolately at the parchment, its words making no sense to her.
"This is Prince Talien Kalinnan's wish. Let him die a patriot sire." Echlan urged.
Rudy's arm seemed to move without connection to the protests in her mind, savagely quelled and killed by brutal reality. She picked up the pen on the table and ordered Prince Talien Kalinnan's entire household of 126 people to be executed the following morning. By the following morning, Rodimostev Alanis Kalinnan, once an unknown girl of little nobility named Idelia from Shandrakor, officially became Emperor Rodimostev Alanis Kalinnan II – with no surviving members of royalty to challenge her title. She had just turned fourteen.
Rudy gave a sad chuckle. " I was going to give my Pledge to the nation tomorrow. I finally sought out my questions and troubles. I have finally found a way to live with my burden. My people marched off to the battlefields of hell and faced death without fear because they wanted us to live. I will spend the rest of my life constructing and fashioning their last wishes. I will create a paradise for their children and their children's children to come. I will sacrifice the rest of my life towards the service of this country in repayment. This is my job – this is my unspoken promise when I asked my people to die on my behalf." She held onto Liam's hands just like Echlan had held onto hers, tightly and firmly.
"You are still alive Liam. You remember Princess Kim's dream – help me build it as she would have done. And should I prove unfit or unworthy of my position…" Rudy's grip around Liam's hands tightened even more. Her voice dipped low, fierce and harsh. "Then you may kill me, because I cannot fulfil my promise to the millions of dead. I give you that very right. I swear by the Device around my neck!"
Liam regained 'consciousness' with a violent shock and somewhat short for air. The young Emperor before him still had his hand in hers, along with the shimmering crystal – the Device which allows the Emperor to manipulate the nen around them – and he felt strange tinglings shoot up from his fingers, along his arm and through his body. The Device then dimmed, reverting back into its inconspicuous flat, circular piece of crystal, dangling limply around the Emperor's neck. With a sudden bond and understanding between them, they both collapsed, exhausted by the soul searching.
"Your leader has realized the error of his ways!" Illumi, still standing beside the fallen pair declared loudly in a voice which rang throughout the entire Forbidden Palace, carried by the nen and broadcasted through the streets of Arcadia Central. "You will throw down your weapons and raise your arms in surrender and by Emperor's decree, you will be spared. All those who reject the Emperor's offer of reconciliation can meet their own bloody demise!"
All throughout the city, people clung to each other, tearstreaked and near hysterical, shouted with joy, and clapped and danced, rejoicing that the bloody attempted coup d'etat was finally over. Above their heads, the sky was filled with a formidable purr – the sound of the engines in the Sky Cruisers. Great searchlights stabbed through the darkness of the night and the civilians all swung their gaze upwards at the arrival of General Deathstalker's massive aerial fleet of Sky Cruisers – great leviathans of the sky, slow and majestic, powerful and potent, dominating the sky to set the Emperor's authority in stone.
"Would you look at the size of those machines Gon! They'll replace the blimps in the future for sure!" Killua didn't bother to hide his amazement as the monstrously huge warships floated above him – a grand arrival indeed.
Gon emphatically nodded at his side. They were both cut, bloody and bruised – but the struggle was over, and they took the first opportunity to jump onto one of the rooftops to get a better view. He waved his arms and madly shouted to see if any of the pilots would notice them.
Edmond Striker let out a gasp of relief, releasing his tensions and nerves upon hearing the declaration of the conclusion of battle. He gazed wearily into the sky filled with the Sky Cruisers and smiled, a weary yet satisfied smile.
Back at the Dais, Zeno and Echlan both smiled warmly at each other.
"Am I allowed to collapse now? Because I've been forcing my legs to hold my weight for the last fifteen minutes, and frankly, I don't think they can last much longer." Zeno commented with a snicker. And truth was, he did collapse onto the ground, but a smile still on his face as he lived and witnessed something truly marvelous and spectacular that evening.
Illumi slowly turned from Rudy and walked towards the first Kalinnan Emperor – Renard. Cat regarded the young man with as much pride and self mocking.
"It's always got to be you Jordan – you defeated the last Wardien king, and you come in at the last minute to save the Kalinnan dynasty. Will you now take my place after I diminish as the Guardian of the Kalinnan dynasty?" there was a touch of bitterness in Cat's voice as he held the handsome and formidable man before him in his weary gaze.
Illumi gave an arrogant laugh, full of contempt and mockery.
"Of course not brother. That would mean work – work, when I could be having fun, especially sweet talking the gorgeous Princess Kimone Kalinnan Kastro. And besides, you misunderstood the reason for my continued existence. I'm also here to repay my debts and make my apologies – I've already explained it all to Illumi, but you – " he turned abruptly to Echlan with cruel and dominating eyes. "I want you to take Hisoka to the Palace Library and dig out Imrahldis' Legacy for him to read the first moment you are free. And that is an order."
Echlan bowed low and Jordan Romanov Kastro, self named Imrahldis (because it was so much more extravagant and exotic than boring old "Jordan") was never seen again, along with Cat.
Illumi breathed in deeply. "Karen-chan – lets attend to Rudy and uncle Liam."
The doctor gave a bright nod, even though she was running on the last stores of her energy, and together, they carried the unconscious man and child back to sick bay.
From the North, East and West Gates, the Generals and Palace Guardian lowered their weapons and grinned so hard that it hurt. Renard Romanov Kalinnan's prophecy had been averted. The night was over – time to clean up the mess.