Disclaimer: If it were mine, Yuri would have stuck around for at least a cameo in FTNW…
Warnings: Weirdness. Tengaiou with personality. Spoilers, if you really consider them that, for the end of the China section of SH1.
Note:
Just a simple little "missing scene" piece. Not the first thing I've
written for this wonderful fandom, but the least fucked-up of the
bunch. I've had this sitting around now for… how long, four months?
So, about the pronouns here… I assume higher spiritual beings to be without physical sex, adopting
whichever gender and characteristics they choose (or are forced into)
when manifesting on the physical planes. For that reason I originally intended
to use the genderqueer pronouns "sie" and "hir" for Tengaiou
while
writing this fic; however, though the games usually depict Tengaiou
as female, I personally tend to view it as male, as it appears when
Yuri taps into its power. In the end, particularly because angelic
and demonic figures traditionally are almost all masculine in nature
(I know, kill me for perpetuating gender stereotypes), I decided to go with male
pronouns.
Thanks to Aegis for the correction about the last section. It's been
too long since I played that part of the game, eheh. (is embarrassed)
--
Uriel was not pleased.
Humans had had, since the very beginning, a horrible tendency to meddle in things they did not understand, toying with powerful magics like small children playing with guns. They took a sick pleasure in meddling with the natural order of things, bringing otherworldly creatures to their own plane and screwing everything up.
This was how the Radiant Dark Seraph had ended up in the city of Shanghai, dragged quite rudely out of a deep sleep, his physical anchor bizarrely deformed — though switching casters in the middle of the spell had a tendency to do that.
The physical world was not pleased either, and it showed — all around him the stones of collapsing buildings shrieked and groaned under the stress of his power. Uriel sighed inwardly. Nothing short of a miracle — and the One was decidedly strict with letting people get away with those in the past few millennia, ever since that one fellow had used them as party tricks — could save this city. If no one took steps, and soon, the devastation would be a lot worse than that.
Something at the edge of the tower caught his eye.
The Dark-classed human who'd finished the incantation had departed; what drew Uriel's attention were a Fire class and a Water class, or at least the one they restrained — a tearfully protesting Light class whose aura of power was blinding on this low-energy plane. The seraph looked at her almost pityingly — those with such strength (and hers, though largely untapped, was more than double that of most humans) rarely lived long. They tended to draw overwhelming (and often fatal) magical influence as dead flesh attracts decay. In fact, Uriel was certain that it was this girl's power that had been used to summon him to this place; the fact that she had survived being used as the energy source for the ritual was impressive indeed.
The seraph's dispassionate gaze followed Light class's arm, stretched back even as she fled with her companions — and his strange eyes widened a little at what he saw.
Running towards him, his face determined, was a young Dark class — a mere fledgling in his powers, but strong, almost as strong as the girl. What piqued the seraph's interest wasn't so much the boy's strength, however; it was the familiarity of his aura.
He hit the failing energy barrier that surrounded Uriel, passed through it — and stopped as his breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the seraph's power. He regained his composure with admirable quickness, however, and settled easily into a fighting stance.
Uriel regarded him with cool amusement. —What are you doing, boy?—
The human winced, staggering a little.
The seraph had forgotten how his physical voice affected mortals, with its echoes ranging far past human hearing in both pitch extremes, the mental voice with its barrage of images as overwhelming as the aural one. He repeated the question, taking care not to speak aloud this time. —What are you doing?—
The human shook his head a little, stared at Uriel challengingly. "I'm going to stop you. I'll kill you, fuse with you—"
Fuse? —Ahh, a Harmonixer!— he remarked, interest growing.
No disgust, no fear — guess it is a demon art after all, the human's mind noted, though the boy didn't say anything out loud.
Uriel tried not to smile. —Demon art it is not, my child,— he chided, —but a divine gift that has been passed down for countless aeons since the time we spirits walked among mortal men.—
The seraph could sense the Harmonixer's annoyance at this pronouncement, at the shift in topic. "I don't have time for this bull," he declared firmly. "Let's go. You and me, right here, right now. I'll do whatever it takes so this—" he gestured to the stones of the city around them, which were beginning to crumble by now "—is all you will destroy."
Uriel drew himself to his full height, wings flaring. —You wish to confront me at your level? Know, then, that you face death, or a fate far worse in madness.— The seraph's face grew sombre. —I have no wish for you to suffer either, but only in the latter can this destruction cease.—
Before the young Harmonixer could say anything more, Uriel gently touched his cheek with one clawed hand. —I would have liked to know you better, my child. Perhaps someday, when your suffering is ended, I may. Until then…— The seraph inclined his head, and then directed the flow of his power into the boy.
The human's head snapped back, and a scream started in his throat, but died with a gurgling whimper. His body twitched and shuddered, and his wide red eyes stared blankly at nothing as the seraph continued to pour his strength into this, the only available vessel. He almost pitied the youngling, but knew this was the only way to prevent the devastation of all China, perhaps the world.
A ghostly hand suddenly grasped Uriel's wrist, and crimson eyes stared boldly into his own as the boy fell limply to the stones of the collapsing tower, his body still convulsing in agony only half-imagined.
The seraph raised an eyebrow. His voice was even, but his strange eyes betrayed his interest. —Ahh, another one… dead, but so strong. You wish to take his place?— He indicated the unconscious Harmonixer with a tilt of his head. —He is by no means close, but someday, when he fully masters his powers, he may be strong enough to channel me.—
"Someday," the spirit agreed, the physical echo of his strong voice a mere whisper, "but not yet. Until that time comes when I can let you have him, I'll protect him with all my ability, even if I have to be the one to go mad in his place."
The alien smile that had flickered around Uriel's dark lips finally showed its true colours. —Such devotion, even after so long…—
"He's all I have left of my family. Without him, what else is there?" The ghost of the Harmonixer settled into that same easy fighting stance his son had used. "Shall we?"
The seraph's smile broadened. —Of course.—
--
Amid the rubble of Kuihai Tower came a scrabbling noise, and the sound of shifting rock.
The rat's ears perked up, and it looked around warily for the source of the disturbance; seeing and hearing nothing further, it returned to its examination of the peculiar weapon glittering among the stones.
Grimy, bleeding fingers suddenly closed around the claws, and the rat, squeaking in terror, fled in fear for its life.
Struggling with some of the heavier boulders, a battered young man rose from the rubble, chest heaving, eyes a little wild. He staggered to unsteady feet and looked at what he held in his hand. "Heh," he said, chuckling a little.
His chuckling turned into full, deep laughter, the shrill, slightly hysterical edge to it enough to scare away far bigger scavengers than the rats. When he finally quieted, he carefully strapped the claws on as best he could with the ruined straps. "Much better," he cooed, flexing stiff hands still clad in the tattered remains of black gloves.
When he became bored with this activity, he looked up… and the cocky grin he wore faded to a look of uncertainty. The boy had no idea where he was, or what he was doing. His brow furrowed as the shrieking voices began supplying him with all manner of conflicting information. "Stop it!" he snarled, clutching his head…
…and then the quieter voice came in, the one that had been there the longest; it was still annoying, but he listened to it more than the others because it gave him less of a headache.
He cocked his head. "Eu…rope?" he asked, drawing out the word, tasting it. "Where?"
After a long moment he nodded and began picking his way westward through the rubble-filled streets, never once looking back.
--
Fin.