Act 1: Scene 4
So I trained.
The focal point of my entire life over the next few years was to fight, and become stronger than Garland. Only the silver dragon prevented me from killing myself with ill-fated battles against opponents far too strong for me. There were other things I needed to do before going down to Gaia, but they would wait. My blood-thirst would not.
Since Garland was still out of my league, I focused my anger somewhat unfairly on the Second. I blamed him for everything. But no matter what I said or did to him, he never retaliated. Perhaps he thought he was at fault, when it was really only Garland's lack of morality that had brought us both into this world. Anger and bitterness made me blind to that facet of truth.
The fact that the Second never fought back when I scorned him made me feel even angrier. I didn't need a partner who was too cowardly to stand up for himself! But how to get rid of him without causing too much fuss . . . it was a matter I mulled over many times. I could, perhaps, leave him here at the critical moment. No, I would never slip that one past Garland.
That was it. I had to dispose of the Second when we were no longer under Garland's restrictive influence. When we reached Gaia, I would deal with the little runt myself.
I became so obsessed with these plans that I did not notice time flashing by with each victory in battle. The silver dragon did, however. I remember quite vividly the day it brought my progress to my attention after a particularly violent fight.
"Do you realise how far you have come now?" it asked quietly.
"Still not far enough," I replied automatically.
"A year ago that monster would have killed you. Is your desire to kill Garland that strong that you would grow so much in power?"
My desire was certainly powerful enough to do that. It had become my only purpose for living, and had consumed me completely. "Yes, it is."
"You could now beat me quite easily."
That came as a shock. I regarded the silver dragon speculatively, thinking back to the battle that had brought us together for the first time. My eyes widened as I realised it was right.
"I . . . could, couldn't I?"
"Yes. You have surpassed me."
I was filled with an excitement so powerful that I trembled. "Then I'm one step closer to defeating that pompous old fool!"
The dragon sighed. Its breath whispered across my skin, cold and real.
"Kuja . . . do you really think Garland would create a being capable of beating him?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. You have progressed far . . . but how much further can you go? Garland is powerful, and he is also intelligent. He would not have made it possible for you to overpower him."
"That can't be true!" I said with a derisive sneer. But when I tried to think of an argument against it, none would come. What the dragon said made sense . . . and if it did, then the entire possibility of my revenge became non-existent.
Or did it?
"Perhaps," I agreed. "But what if . . . what if I could obtain a source of power capable of destroying Garland?"
"I'm not sure . . . but there must be a way! I won't let him beat me! I will kill him, no matter what it takes." Sighing, I climbed onto the dragon's back and signalled for it to launch into the air. "The issue requires some thought . . ."
***
Thinking was something I could do well. I have the innate ability to focus on a problem so intensely that everything else becomes obsolete. But time passed, and I had things to do, and they required my full attention. My ambitions were momentarily put on hold.
Terra's Guardians of Chaos were known for their . . . unique sense of humour. There's Maliris, the six-armed serpentine guardian of Fire - basically a masochist with a payload of flames and half a dozen scimitars up her sleeves. Tiamat, guardian of Air, is apparently the most benevolent of the four creatures - he leaves out the pre-murder torture and simply kills as quickly as possible. Kraken doesn't say much, either, but those tentacles are more than decorations, and my, oh my, do they sting. But I suppose I detest Lich the most. I have never seen so much hatred towards everything other than oneself before . . . yes, I suppose he even beat me in that matter.
I had been dreading the day when I would have to visit them ever since I had learned of my purpose, mainly because, for a planet's guardians, they had little respect for its inhabitants.
Including me.
And four against one is rarely fair.
"Look," I groaned, staggering to my feet. "I didn't even want to come here!" For some reason, Garland had forbidden the Second from joining me on this trip, not that I particularly wanted him around anyway.
"And yet you scorn us with your petty presence anyway," Maliris sneered, juggling her scimitars between all of her hands. I watched them warily.
"As Terra's guardians, you have a sacred duty to -" I broke off, as the first of the weapons came down beside me. Clenching my jaw, I refused to flinch. "Garland commands it. You have a job to do."
From the darkened corner of the fractured Element Shrine, a low, chilling hiss made me grit my teeth.
"Garland? And what has he ever done for us?"
Lich. I shuddered with disgust, suddenly wishing that I had brought the Second along on this little expedition.
Tiamat was regarding me thoughtfully, still and silent. I couldn't even see him breathe. Kraken had already had his fun with me, and was sitting back to let Maliris have a turn, his swollen, bloated body heaving with the difficulty of breathing oxygen. The Water guardian did not do so well outside of his element.
Still no move from Lich, and even Maliris had halted her attacks, one hand still curled around the hilt of the scimitar embedded in the stone floor to my right. The entire shrine was deathly silent, a contest of wills and of power. If all four ganged up on me again, they'd kill me for sure.
"Can't you just make my life easier and do this for me?" I asked, my irritation bordering on pure anger.
"Why should we make your life easier?" Maliris scowled, her tail rattling. "Ever since those stupid humans destroyed this world, our eternal lives have been worse than you can ever imagine."
"I bet I can," I hissed between my teeth, wishing I hadn't when a burst of flame sent me diving for the floor. Lying flat on my stomach, I closed my eyes and waited for Maliris to stop cackling. "Are you quite done?"
Maliris grinned. "Quite."
"Then maybe I should bring this to your attention: you don't have a choice."
Something moved in the shadows where Lich's voice came from. The guardian's rage made the flagstones ripple outwards in wide, violent circles. Even Maliris protested, but she wasn't thrown against a ragged and weathered wall like I was.
"And what makes you think that?" Lich's voice was little more than a tremor in the air, but his outrage was very tangible.
Damn. This angel of death thing was going to kill me if I didn't take control of the situation.
Why does pain have to hurt so much?
Still, I could take some small pleasure out of the inevitable reaction to my next words.
"You retain your powers only because you serve the elements, and because Terra exists. If it is never re-established, then the four of you will slowly diminish."
Tiamat moved. Finally. "Not true. We are immortal."
I ached all over. The wall I had been crushed against was not particularly flat. But, nevertheless, I smiled. "For how long?"
Then Lich grew angry. His skeletal figure flew out of the shadows, giving me no time to dodge his large hand. It encircled my arms and torso and rammed me back against the wall. Again.
Oh, the joys of being a lackey.
"Impertinent creature!" Lich said. Once again, I felt his hiss of a voice run through me like a rusty saw. "This will not happen!"
"Killing me won't make it change," I said defiantly, but it is extremely difficult to look defiant when you're being dwarfed by a hand as big as your torso. Even harder when that same hand is pressing you against a slab of stone so hard that cracks are beginning to form on the solid surface. The first tendrils of cold fear whispered in the depths of my soul. "Your powers were granted to serve Terra alone. If you neglect your duty you will lose them!"
"But if we go down to Gaia, we will lose our immortality," Kraken burbled.
"Lich, stop it," Tiamat said softly. Or, at least, as softly as gravel can sound.
"Why?"
They backed down. Even the other guardians feared Lich. I suppose I did, too. I feared anything with the power to crush me in one palm.
Everyone had a superiority complex when they were around me. It occurred to me, as bright lights began to burst in my vision, that everyone looked down on me. Garland, the silver dragon at first, even the thoughtless Genomes, who knew nothing. I was sick and tired of being treated like a worthless puppet. Any creature with a will of its own would fight oppression, and I was no different. All that training, all that fighting . . . what good was it if I died right here?
"I'd rather stay here and rot," Lich spat, his eye sockets glowing with a pure and magnificent rage, "than make things easier for these pitiful specimens."
"You have to . . ." My ribcage was beginning to creak under the pressure.
"We don't." The earth guardian's tone portrayed his disgust. "Do you have to? You have a choice too, don't you realise? Pawns may have limited resources but they are still there, insolent mammal! Have you already made your choice? Have you submitted? Weak! That's all that you are! All you ever will be!"
By the Gods did that hurt, more than anything physical he could have done. Would it . . . always be this way? Kuja, the powerless pawn, the easily manipulated puppet?
I wasn't even aware of releasing the spell until I found myself sat on the floor, hunched over with my head dropped between my shoulders, panting with the exertion.
It was the first time I ever used Ultima.
Garland had given me the rare and precious Terran stone soon after my awareness of my purpose. I had drawn the runes from within the object, committing the mysteriously complex patterns of magic to memory and spirit. But I had knocked myself unconscious every single time I had tried to manifest the spell. I had presumed I was still not powerful enough for it.
Looking around a devastated room of debris and rubble, and four startled guardians, I tried to figure out what other spell could have done so much damage. Ultima was the only one that came to mind.
Very slowly, I climbed to my feet. Power pulsed through me. I didn't know what source of energy I was drawing from, but it rippled through me and radiated around me, an almost visible aura of chaos and vigour.
"You will go down to Gaia," I said, very calmly and very quietly. "You will do as I say. Is that understood?"
"Your day of reckoning will come, mortal," Tiamat whispered, but began to make his way outside. The others followed. Only Lich hesitated - and even then only briefly - staring at me with those dead and empty sockets.
So this was what superiority felt like. This was how it felt to govern by fear. To have people look up to you in frightful admiration . . . Garland experienced this all the time. The manipulative bastard. Well, now I had the upper hand. Ultima . . . it would be my salvation. When the time came . . .
The guardians slunk out of the shrine. When I finally exited myself, they were gone, presumably to Gaia, and the silver dragon was waiting for me. Its eyes whirled when it saw me - I couldn't tell whether it was through admiration, pride or concern, and I didn't ask. I simply mounted.
"That spell . . . it would surely beat Garland," the creature said tentatively.
"I'm certain it would . . . but I can't remember where I found the energy to cast it."
"Kuja . . ."
"What is it?"
" . . . Nothing."
Slightly puzzled by that display of uncertainty, I decided it was best to say nothing. The silver dragon seemed to look at me differently than before. Concern was rampant in its mental tones. But why? What did it have to be concerned about?
I landed some distance away from Bran Baal - no one yet knew about my partnership with a silver dragon and I intended to keep it that way. The Genomes kept their distance, too. I could still feel the power lapping against my skin, a resource that begged to be used. But I currently had no purpose for it, and tried my best to ignore it.
I headed towards the room I now shared with the Second. The other Genomes did not need to rest, but we did, and so in my room was the only bed in Bran Baal, and I was expected to share? I didn't think so. The little runt had stolen my purpose - he wouldn't steal my scant few possessions as well.
The Second was sitting on a stool, flipping through one of the books from the shelf. I was about to reprimand him for even daring to touch my things, but as quickly as the power had come to me, I felt it leave. It left a great void around me that was quickly filled with something else, and it made me stagger against the doorframe.
"Kuja!" The Second was on his feet instantly. "Are you all right?"
"What do you care?"
But the pain distorted my hearing and vision. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. Before I had cast Ultima . . . what had Lich done to me? How hard had he . . .
The answer came with my next breath. Serrated agony lashed through my ribcage. I would not cry out in front of the Second, I would not -
I coughed instead, a rattling cough that shook my senses and made me dizzy. When I lowered my hand from my mouth, I narrowed my eyes weakly at the Second. His own were wide with fear - for me! The fool . . .
"What?" I snapped hoarsely.
Wordlessly, he took my hand and flashed the palm in front of my face. Little red droplets spattered it.
Blood.
No wonder the silver dragon had been concerned! I cast a dispassionate glance at the rest of me - the power had disguised the fact that I was badly hurt. How could I not have noticed? And without the energy for a restorative spell . . . the Second was not prone to magic, as I was, and even if he had been, I would not have accepted an offer of help.
Not from him.
A second cough shook my slender frame violently. More blood. I somehow made my way over to the bed, wheezing with pain and despair. The Second was panicking.
"Kuja! Wait here, I'll be right back!"
"Don't bother returning!" I tried to yell, but my chest throbbed where my ribs were undoubtedly broken. Where was the blood coming from? If I had pierced a lung . . .
I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow and trying desperately to smother the coughing fits I was racked with. Several minutes passed before the Second reappeared, juggling a number of brightly coloured flasks of glowing liquids. He dropped most of them on a desk and dug through the pile, grabbing several bottles and approaching the bed.
"Here, Kuja, drink -"
"Get away! I neither want your help nor need it!"
He looked hurt, but his expression was firm. "You may not want my help, but you certainly need it."
"Just leave me alone, you insolent thief!"
The Second blinked. "Thief? What do you -"
"You've stolen everything from me! My birthright is to accomplish this mission! I never wanted you, I never needed you!" I broke off with a groan, curling up on the bed and hugging my chest tightly. "I hate you and I hate Garland and I hate this forsaken wilderness! Just let me die in peace!"
I was quite ready to do so, I realised afterwards. It wasn't just the heat of the moment, or my stubbornness. The power I had glimpsed was enough to defeat Garland, but I couldn't even use it properly! That insane despair was enough to make me feel like giving up.
The Second did back off. But he sat at the end of the bed, patient and vigilant.
"Why?" I whispered softly. "What will you gain from aiding me?"
The Second regarded me sadly. "You don't need a reason to help someone, Kuja."
At some point in the midst of my harsh breathing, I must have passed out, because the next time I was aware . . .
Voices. Two of them.
The Second and . . . him.
"But . . . Garland . . . can't you just -"
"No."
Why had the Second called him? My head swam in a sea of agony, vistas of harsh black and vibrant vermilion floating in the darkness of my vision. I tried my hardest to remain still.
"Just one little Cure spell . . . would it hurt you that much?"
"I don't owe this little runt a thing. Besides . . . I don't think he would appreciate being healed by the person he despises most."
"He won't know!" There was desperation in the Second's voice. "I'll tell him . . . I'll tell him I used potions."
"You would take the fall?" Garland laughed. The noise was painful.
"Why? He treats you like dirt and yet you still respect him? No, don't answer. I don't want to know, for the reason is surely perverse."
Silence reigned. My heavy breathing was getting steadily worse. Then the Second whispered: "Why won't you help him?"
"I can't believe it hasn't occurred to you or him that I could quite easily have 'persuaded' the guardians to go down to Gaia on my own."
"What do you mean?"
"If I had gone myself, they would not have attacked, because I could have beaten them. But I sent Kuja, because I knew they outnumbered and overpowered him."
"You . . . were testing him?"
"No, you idiot! I wanted him dead!"
Ice rushed through my veins. It shouldn't have come as any sort of surprise, now that I think about it. Garland hated me. I hated him. But . . . was I really that dispensable? Wasn't I worth even one Cure spell? Was the Second so superior to me?
"But . . ." the Second stammered. "You created him! This is his task -"
"I don't need him. You will do the trick, I think. Though your appearance isn't as startling, you will be better than he ever would have been."
"He tried so hard . . ."
"Kuja deserves only death. He would betray his purpose because of his hatred towards me, and that is unforgivable. Inform me when he finally dies. Good day to you, the Second."
Garland's presence faded, and I instantly tried to sit up.
"Kuja!" The Second ran around to the side of the bed, his eyes wide with concern. "Did you . . . hear it all?"
"It's no big surprise," I croaked, the sentence a half-lie, and rolled over onto my back when my arms wouldn't seem to function properly. "I never really expected much else. Not from Mr. Self-Proclaimed God and his little thieving angel of death."
The Second winced visibly.
"Hurry," I snapped, clicking my fingers at the same time. "Pass me a potion!"
He did so, staring at me, zombie-like, while I yanked the cork out of the flask and proceeded to swallow its contents.
"But . . . I thought you had given up."
I snatched an ether from his hands, gulping it down and half-choking on it when my injuries protested. That Ultima spell had drained my spiritual resources far beyond a safe limit.
" . . . Damned if I'm going to let Garland have his way," I hissed, and drank restorative potion after potion, until any more would have had no effect. Finally, I slept again, and dreamt of sweet, sweet revenge.
End of Act 1: Scene 4